#this would need time i don’t have so enough this aesthetic and this narration

[homestuckreplay]

hauntingly relaxing basslines to grow/disappearify pumpkins to

(page 818-825)

Jade irradiates a tasty dinner for Bec, leaving it full of ‘nice depleted steak isotopes’ (p.819). I was wondering about the science behind this, and learned that while radioactive decay naturally gives off heat, it’s probably not enough to cook a steak. Radioisotope thermal generators convert the heat of radiation into electricity, and there’s a lot of theory about radioisotopic batteries that could operate similarly to solar cells, but their efficiency is below 2% in laboratory tests.

This got me thinking about Skaia as a perfect conserver of energy – on page 193, Rose expends six units of build grist to construct three Perfectly Generic Objects. On p.261, she deletes them and regains six build grist. Next page, she uses the recovered grist to build a platform extending from John’s house, and finally on p.485 turns that platform back into six grist to build more stairs. In the real world, there is always a loss of energy and raw materials when changing something’s form, and many games model this (for example, an in game item costing 100 gold but only sold back for 50) to discourage players changing their minds. But Sburb explicitly allows for this experimentation, and a similar principle could explain why Jade’s uranium powered devices are so efficient.

Speaking of Jade’s technology, we see her ECLECTIC BASS, which is a kind of triple keytar. It definitely does not need to exist but it is so cool that it does. Jade (via the narrator) is frustratingly vague again with ‘obviously it's too complicated to play it in person like this’, refusing to clarify what ‘in person’ means, but I’d guess it’s a remote controlled hand or several that can play bass remotely without the limitations of human fingers. Possibly controlled through her other invention: the computer.

Instead of a regular desktop, Jade’s LUNCHTOP works through beams of light emitting from small floating polyhedrons, positioning her literally within the digital space. Amidst floating clouds, extra pixels and jpeg debris, and spinning chromosomes of light is a cool dragon as a wallpaper, icons for Pesterchum, Echidna (probably a browser) and Fresh Jamz!, which has an icon of a musical note over a jar of fruit jam. Is Jade a composer too? Did she write her own hauntingly relaxing bassline that caused the plants to grow? Is this a hobby she and Dave have in common?

Jade’s hauntingly relaxing bassline (p.822) is a great companion piece to WV: Ascend, showing Jade’s island in its current state as opposed to in extended timelapse. The house, with its orbs atop spires, is clearly modeled on a now broken part of the frog statue, and was designed to fit in with the existing architecture and shape of the island (it forms a peak to the small second mountain). The house was built for aesthetics, not function, and is primarily vertical especially towards the top. No wonder Jade ‘almost never use[s] the stairs’.

Putting the timeline together, we know that Jade is about to message John at 16:34 his time (p.110), but they don’t actually talk until 17:25 (p.169), almost an hour later, at which point there’s an explosion outside Jade’s house. In page 822’s animation, an aeroplane flies low over Jade’s island and drops off a delivery (a blue package – something from John, perhaps?). This must be an uncommonly loud sound in a remote area. Depending on how this flash syncs with the timeline, this may or may not be the ‘explosion’. Either way, Jade will be on the computer during the explosion, and as her likely homemade computer involves complete immersion in the digital surroundings, I can believe that she would interpret a noise from her computer as something that’s happening outside her house.

We’ve explored Jade’s room, interests, musical talents, fetch modus, and now computer. In all of these she’s been set up differently to her friends. We have yet to explore the rest of her house and its surroundings (featuring, presumably, strange themed decor, a large humanoid doll and a piece of visual art Jade has created) and to meet Jade’s grandfather, witnessing her attempts to evade and eventually strife with him.

> Jade: Open Echidna and watch your favorite Squiddles episode.

[baudelairebizarre]

why the "A Series Of Unfortunate Events" movie didn't work

If you are a fan of the movie pease don’t take offence. In fact, I have a selection of compliments for it. on the other hand, if you don't like the movie, I hope you understand my few praises. in the end, I hope that fans or haters will take my points as they are, opinions.

spoilers ahead

Cast

Some of the biggest highlights is Meryl Streep and Billy Connolly. Connolly’s Monty was warm, filling me with hope for the short amount of time we saw him. Streep does amazing as usual, delivering each line with the perfect amount of fear and justification, even sounding as if she often gave kids too villains on the daily.

Jude law is fine, narrating the movie in the role of Lemony Snicket, just as he does in the books, he often appears to add suspense with his jammed typewriter. Never seeing his face, the mysterious atmosphere of unsolved questions is added to by a foggy figure. Mr. Poe, played by Timothy Spell, does a fine job. Only appearing at the beginning and end of each time they spend with their guardian, he does the best he can with the time he’s given.

As for the children, Emily browning is by far the best. However, Sunny steals the show. Her quick quips and funny jokes can bring a small light to the miserable tale. Klaus is good, no complaints or major compliments.

One of my major issues with the movie is Jim Carrey’s performance. Yes, count Olaf is extravagant, Carey takes it to a whole other level. The flamboyant performance adds a comical Layer to the character which isn’t needed. He makes an idiot out of a rather smart individual, not many people could get away with such a plot, and Carreys Olaf definitely couldn’t. In no way is he believable and would not be able to get away with such plot.

Olaf as a character is funny, his silly costumes, the accents, the ideas, even the people he surrounds himself with. He is meant to be played by someone who is enjoying themselves. For me, Jim Carey is not having fun, he just wants to seem like he is.

Costumes/sets

One thing about this movie I can praise is the sets. Each distinctive location is given a distinctive colour palette, letting certain colours pop against the overall gloom of the story. The buildings are all marvellously done, the warm yellow hues surrounding montgomerys home and outfits contrasts the cold tones of Josephines house. Count Olafs house is dark, dirty and I believe they could’ve gone further with it. It looks messy, but clean and organised messy. As if he meticulously placed each item to look chaotic.

The 40s/50s Americana sketches from the book are turned upside down for this gothic, victorian aesthetic they decided on. Not that I’m against this change, I just find it interesting. As the books never specified when they are set, they are up for interpretation. The dark glow of the costumes add to a miserable feeling of dread. One costume change I did not like was them not giving Klaus glasses. His whole schtick was the fact that he read so much he needed glasses. Not to mention that the fourth book revolves around him wearing glasses, further proving that they never intended to adapt any more of the story. Also violets hair was a whole choice.

Why it was never going to work

Shoving three movies into one would never give the satisfaction that the books or show does. Around half an hour per guardian, the bond is never formed deep enough to make the falling apart have such impact. Moving the wedding to the end caused a dragging pace with having to add a whole other scene where they almost get hit by a train. Making Olaf get punished pushes even further that a sequel was never in consideration, also showing absolute cluelessness to what makes the books so good. The fact that he never gets punished adds to it individuality and its charm. The movie makers clearly didn’t understand it and that’s what makes it so disappointing.

[bytewire]

Let's speculate about Architect Society!

I think there are some misinterpretations about how Precursor society works. It makes sense considering how vague a lot of the canon information is, but let me provide some of my perspective and interpretations on what we get in canon.

Architect society definitely deserves more speculation beyond just characterizing them as a race only focused on progress. The current information we have about how Architects operate is underrated in terms of how interesting it is. They definitely aren't a stereotypical hive mind. How Precursors perceive themselves is different from how they actually appear to function. AL-AN's answers don't lack bias. He is an unreliable narrator and often withholds information, so it's crucial to look deeper into the information given and to read between the lines. Especially as not everything is explicitly stated.

Architects exist as a collective—data points in a network—but people often forget that they do not only strive for efficiency. What they do is try to optimize themselves to perform tasks in the most efficient way possible. They strive to achieve and progress their society. This doesn’t mean that they lack culture. They are certainly more streamlined and orderly than humans, but they do have cultural aspects that impact the way they view things.

Some examples of Architect culture:

Architects produce art as seen by the statue in the Koppa mining site and the statue in the Deep Lilypad Caves Body Cache. Even the alien carving from the first game is an example of Precursors producing art with subjectivity.

Architects cultivate plants in greenhouses even though they do not need to eat. Also, of course, they have the Ancient Ornamental Plants that they cultivate for aesthetic purposes.

They hold pride in maintaining and improving a vessel for a long time. If a storage medium gets damaged, they wouldn’t opt to immediately make another vessel—even if it would be the most efficient.

They don’t all use the most popular format for their bodies; there are certain Architects that opt for different styles of storage medium.

Architects consider it rude to duplicate themselves.

All of their technology has similar aesthetic characteristics and design.

Precursors are cybernetic and composed of biotechnological components, yet they start out life as organic beings. They choose to incorporate biological tissues in their vessels suggesting they hold some sort of social ties to being organics. They actively make the choice to incorporate organic components.

Precursors potentially carry some nostalgia for their pre-civilized bodies, considering they model their vessels after them.

Architects have a concept of prestige. AL-AN is noted as the lead scientist for the Kharaa research project.

They have special training for certain young Architects and a Temple of Research that they are inducted into if they are distinct enough from other broodlings.

So, Precursors do not necessarily always do what is the most practical. They can and do practice certain things for subjective reasons. They have emotions that influence their actions. These emotions may not equate to human emotional behavior, but they certainly have them. AL-AN himself expresses shame many times.

While Precursors are a hive mind, they aren’t entirely unfamiliar with the concept of an individual. AL-AN merely says that they don’t see themselves as distinct. However, it is acknowledged at many points that a mind within the collective can have its own traits. Perspectives that either come with a body or ideas and needs that a mind has. They are able to act autonomously. The biggest example is AL-AN himself ignoring the network.

Though a mind having its own ideas doesn’t negate Architects being a collective. Especially when those minds work in conjunction with thousands of other minds to support the needs of the whole. AL-AN is just a very rare case where an Architect gets the opportunity to act as an individual. Even then, AL-AN expresses that being disconnected from the network is lonely and uncomfortable. Aiming to regain connection despite what he did in the past. AL-AN only uses the singular because he's present with Robin.

Precursors being so advanced makes things a little more complicated when trying to discern aspects of their species. We can't push human ideals onto a race so separate from us. Architects—being connected by the mind—do not have the same social structures as humans, so it's unfair to anthropomorphize them with our standards. We can only speculate on how they might work. Just because one mind can have differing traits doesn’t seem to make them distinct enough to classify as singular (within their species’ definition anyway). I'd love for there to eventually be more information given to us about their society.

Besides, all of this isn’t even considering the many unused voice lines that remain in the files that I’d love to go over…

[solace-sylphieee]

{Rambles} My Thoughts On The Latest For All Time Mainstory (CN)

I… actually never thought I would write a long ass essay once again and it’s for Lovebrush Chronicles/For All Time (HLR) yet again...

Especially so, since I quit months back, and in all honesty I really didn’t log in at all and got to know it from one of my friends who’s still active and is liveblogging to me.

Yes, I wanna rant about it.

It’s so bad that coming from a somewhat workaholic, I literally throw aside my work while in office and have a discussion with another friend on the spot just to make sure my memories of the game’s story were not mere delusion.

Intro’s done so now is the spoiler alert.

As far as I know, Global is around Spirit World (World 3) but not fully released, so do expect Spoilers on that (and it mainly concerns from Godheim/Yemsaiel to there)

And you’re free to comment or debate with me with sound logic if your opinion is otherwise.

What’s my issue with it. To summarise, there’s:

The system functionality, design, and relevance; 

And then there’s the Mainstory

UI, Visuals, Designs

I would not say I’m a legit designer with a solid design background but I do have basic knowledge of it due to my job - just as basic as creating visuals and company book layout printing. But.

But, I say

JUST WHAT IS THIS COPY PASTA, UNCREATIVE, RUN OFF THE MILL DESIGN???

AND PEOPLE ARE PRAISING IT LOOKS GOOD??? LIKE HOW??

IT’S LIKE ANY TYPICAL GACHA UI, HECK WHAT REMINDS ME WAS PGR EVEN AT FIRST.

In case you wonder yes, this is directly taken from my own account, but anyway-

I JUST FIND HLR’S STILL LOOKS HIDEOUS COMPARATIVELY

LIKE, WHAT is there to praise about? Aesthetic? User comprehensiveness? Convenience? Simplicity?

I know that it’s exchangeable but still, it’s just very lazy work and felt like “Oh, we have a change in management and they’re trying to show they’re creating new impacts and is performing”

No shit

Personally, what made HLR special to me in the first place, was its homepage made and designed to meld perfectly into the game's world. It’s special to itself and reflects very well in immersiveness cuz that’s where MC is staying in. It’s very relevant.

I fail to fathom how that “new” UI is even impressive enough to get a pass to be published. 

Not to mention, luckily it’s a soft revamp and not a forced one cuz it’s just making old players lose touch with their own habit. But all in all, I guess it serves the purpose of prolonging play time in the beginning as people entranced by it has the time to explore the utility and readjust their habit.

Also, just my own two cents. If they really wanted to revamp the homepage UI, THERE’S SO MANY THINGS THEY COULD’VE DONE INSTEAD. Examples:

Refurbishing for MC’s final year

DID THEY FORGET ABOUT THE EXISTENCE OF THE BIRTHDAY HOUSE RENOVATION FOR YEAR 4??? WHAT’S THE POINT OF EVEN INTRODUCING WHEN IN SOME OF THE STORIES THEY MOVED IN TOGETHER (I didn't read beyond Emerald so don't quote all of it from me)

Like look! The design may vary for each guy, but the layout is just the exact same :)

It would still be a place we call “home” and the relevance to “Homepage” resonates a lot but they decide it’s better off taking that it doesn’t exist.

Give me some personal space too please, I don’t need some man as decoration in my “home” staring into my soul the moment I enter the game when they used to not do that. Thank you.

Story Narration and Continuity

In all honesty, the UI part made me have the urge to write this essay, but it wasn’t that bad, so the winner will still be this in the end. The dessert.

As far as my memories carried me, and this is replaying Godheim Clarence route *4 with like around 2 or 3 times with Emerald Special Story - Emerald only knows of MC’s existence and what her mom did, when he has a mission going on for Yemsaiel. So, he’s already in it for Yemsaiel before knowing MC to where the canon route carried us.

And some back stories before I proceed, in W3 Emerald route, there is a foreshadowing where he will gradually lost his memories due to him reclaiming his weapon - a scythe (sorry but I forgot the name of the scythe), that was transferred to few owners during the time he’s frozen in place for 500 years. He lost his memories prior to him waking up as he “slept” for too long, and his scythe is overloaded with emotions and memories of owners after his slumber.

So it’s just collecting energy and it’s now overwhelming and has great repercussions for the owner. It’s enough to nuke a world’s existence out, but the side effect is equally potent to the wielders as well.

And now moving forward to W5 (which I don’t know the name of) he now lost his memories and what remains in his mind is when MC is enrolled into St Shelter Academy.

Simply put, he’s at the Welcome to the Door of Emotion state.

At first I was confused cuz of the screenshot I got with MC monologuing to herself like

“This must be the Emerald before the story to Yemsaiel ends! I silently recall my grudges.”

So my thoughts be like:

????? So it’s him before his Yemsaiel mission???? How tf did he know about her existence at all at this point?????

EXCUSE ME, so now you’re holding a grudge again. AFTER YOU TALKED THINGS OUT WITH HIM BEFORE PARADISE (W2) AND IN HIS SPECIAL STORY. WHAT CRAP IS THIS

So Emerald and MC got a factory reset in person and in mindset. Wow.

Then I received a TLDR:

Emerald has his memories of 4 years stolen to fulfill a gamble where he’s despatched to W5

Clarification that it’s still the Emerald along the journey, but memories nada, only up till St Shelter Admission

But he also lost his memories? Of the mission? Before MC was admitted into St Shelter? I’m assuming Yemsaiel?

Yeah, I don’t get this bs.

Memories of 4 years stolen, yet also lost the memories of more than that including the missions before MC is enrolled, and yet he still knows and cares for MC as her caregiver…????????

 So how many years and how much of it is it lost??????

How selective of the person huh, very convenient indeed. As for the reason? I shall yeet it aside thinking it shall be explained later on on such selective memories. But as of now those don't really make sense to me.

Makes me really wonder if Qing You is still the producer of this game or indeed a whole ass management got swapped out and it’s consisting of fan canon writers forcing their own bs through into the official content - cuz the more I’m getting glimpses of the game, the more it gets further away from what I know and understand of in the past.

It’s a whole new concept.

Characters getting more and more one dimensional - oh Alkaid is the wowza secret agent, and him and MC are committed in a relationship of canary in the birdcage and the owner overlooking what it emotionally needs apart from the lavish cage. Nothing gets resolved at all and there’s no development in the story and relationship. 3 years of such a relationship and it's still stable as ever.

Power of love sure is strong that MC is willing to forgo her self to be with the love of her life. And she seems to grow evermore dependent on him, gradually all braindead with questionable preferences as of what I’m hearing about the latest story now.

The relationship development remains stagnant - no conflicts, no growth, no development. Their relationship is as good as their first date and it stops there. Some address conflicts and non-popular opinions, but some just get brushed off so badly it’s like a Mobius Strip of Toxicity. Especially the Feeler spectrum of boys.

It may be that I’ve lost touch, but really is this still the HLR that I loved and know of? I don’t know anymore if it’s my biased thoughts or just simply cuz I’m “out of touch”.

So much so I’m really losing my heart for this game as the content comes by.

Maybe I’m too tired, Maybe it’s just not for me anymore. Maybe… that’s how things will gradually become.

But well that’s all for me, and hopefully my good time with it remains where I stopped, and I believe that W3 is indeed the best one I’ve experienced in the game and I shall remember it as of then.

That’s all for me and now I peace out

[sparrowandbee]

Chapter 5, Part 2 | Chapter 7

The Sparrow: Chapter 6: Playing to the Crowd

Synopsis: Marian reveals her story to the Capitol during her interview in a last-minute attempt to attract sponsors.

Warnings: Mention of alcoholism and substance abuse, objectification of narrator, some cursing.

Author’s Note: Happy new year, everybody!! I’ve loved seeing more and more Haymitch appreciation, so here’s some more of his POV, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1780

Somehow all the plucking and the waxing didn’t hurt as much the second time around. Granted there was less hair, but I think the anxious adrenaline of having to look sympathetic on screen minimised the sting. I barely felt the hairdresser tugging my thick strands into some ridiculous braided updo because my mind was completely elsewhere.

“What should I say?” I tried to turn my head towards Haymitch, who sat nonchalantly on the stool next to the huge red vanity of the dressing room but the stylist quickly snapped me back.

“Don’t worry about it too much. Just answer the questions genuinely.” He replied matter-of-factly, looking up quizzically at the hairstylist's hands working to pin another fake braid atop my head.

From the corner of my eye we shared a knowing glance of how ridiculous this all was.

I didn’t explicitly thank him for the gift… I had a feeling that that was better left unsaid, but everything felt more comfortable between us now. I knew he was truly on my side, no strings attached and the gift was the last piece of proof I needed.

We had been all smiles and jokes that morning, I felt a bit bad for Alder at the breakfast table. I had tried to include him in the conversation but he wasn’t very receptive. Haymitch even offered to be with him before the interview but he refused. Not that Alder needed any help- he got an 8 in training and was good looking enough to charm a crowd.

A little part of me was happy at his indifference towards the mentorship- I selfishly wanted to spend as much time as I could with Haymitch before the Games.

His presence had become a warm, familiar thing that I was absolutely dependent on.

Plus I needed his help now more than ever if I was going to make a successful last-minute plea for sponsors.

“Yeah, but-“ I began replying to Haymitch but the hairstylist cut me off with a monotone “Up.”

I swiftly obeyed until he reached for the tie of my robe, nearly undoing it.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, holding the thick towel material shut.

“Vanilla wants you dressed now,” he said unflinchingly, judging me from behind his pink-rimmed glasses.

“But… with him in the room?” I pointed towards Haymitch who was looking at the ceiling. I was shocked at the stylist’s neutrality as he shrugged. He quite literally couldn't care less about Haymitch’s presence.

“It’s alright, I’ll just…” Haymitch turned the stool around and faced the wall.

As if on queue, five more stylists came into the cramped dressing room and descended on me with another revealing black dress and plenty of glittery oil for my body. Vanilla trailed not far behind. I just hoped this one would be slightly more modest than my parade ensemble.

“You look absolutely gorgeous!” Vanilla exclaimed. That was not a good sign.

She turned me around to the nauseatingly bright full-length mirror and I could barely believe my eyes. Sure, this dress had more fabric, but I felt just as naked.

The dress was mostly just black lace with a low-cut strapless neckline that barely covered my breasts with just a layer of thinly padded lace. My torso was covered by a slightly more opaque mesh but my legs were pretty much exposed despite the gown’s length.

The lace was beautiful, I’ll give her that. It featured the most delicate bouquets of flowers throughout its entire length, but the fabric’s aesthetic value was the least of my concerns as I was strapped into toe-squeezing pointed glossy black high heels.

I felt utterly humiliated, and I was expected to smile and make conversation despite it.

Vanilla held my highlighted shoulders and admired her work in excitement. I didn’t want to look at myself so I turned my eyes up to the smooth white ceiling and crossed my arms to try to conceal what Vanilla’s dress accentuated so well.

After a few seconds she got bored of me and my lack of enthusiasm and wordlessly ushered her hoard of stylists out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind them I turned around to find Haymitch still looking at the wall.

I smiled. That was considerate of him.

“You can turn around now,” I told him, tightly squeezing my arms over my chest but not having a solution to my exposed legs, “thanks.”

He grinned, looking only at my face.

“I think that gold eye makeup looks really nice. It makes your eyes pop.”

And in that utterly humiliating situation, Haymitch got a genuine, full-toothed smile out of me.

He looked good too. The button-up shirt hugged his subtle musculature just right, and despite the harsh light there was such a warmth on his face.

I loved the way his smile made his cheeks a little round in contrast to his masculine, harsh nose. But by far the best part was that unwavering blue-eyed glaze, so steadfast I could almost pinpoint some love behind it… almost.

I took a step forward, ignoring the pain of my feet. I knew I shouldn’t but-

“Come, come! It’s time to line up!” Vanilla’s high-pitched voice called from outside along with her repeated knocking on the door. It was probably for the best, but I felt slightly disappointed regardless.

I gave Haymitch a stern nod as I walked towards the door- a reassurance that despite it all, I was a woman of my word and tonight I’d stick to my promise. For both of us.

He nodded back just as Vanilla pulled me away.

—

I took my spot next to the other mentors just as Marian was taking the stage. I stood right in front of the mounted flat-screen as she walked across the stage, her teeth looking paper-white through red-coloured lips. Somehow the same M who was basically folding in on herself just a few minutes ago now stood tall and walked gracefully as she greeted Caesar Flickerman.

She was good at this.

Good.

The audience roared in whistles and claps as M waved some more before taking a seat on the chair across from the interviewer. It was an absolutely unprecedented reaction for a District 12 tribute.

They obviously viewed her as their pretty plaything, the unfortunate styling said as much. But the stubborn, petulant Marian was playing along now, wrapping Caesar and the audience around her freshly manicured finger with a big, fake smile.

“Wow, Marian! It’s hard to believe that such a pretty face hails from the mining district. Tell us, have you ever worked the mines?” Caesar asked through his own toothy smile. It may have been a cheesy question but one that could tug the right heartstrings (and wallets) if M played into it.

“Um, yes, yes.” I could tell she was thrown off by the question but she never dropped her smile. “I was younger than most but-”

“Oh! And how come?” Caesar acted as though every word out of her mouth was the most interesting thing he’d ever heard. It was so fake but damn was the audience eating it up. Even the mentors had gone quiet now.

“Well, I was eight years old when my mother died, which left me officially orphaned,” she shifted uncomfortably, letting the facade slip slightly. I hated that she had to do all of this. I hated that I had to encourage it. “But she was never really present, so I’ve been surviving on my own for a long time.”

“Tell us more about that,” Caesar’s voice was full of fabricated pity. I knew she would hate that but it was necessary. Her story would help humanise her and appeal to the performative charity of the sponsors.

I knew her story, most regulars at the Hobb did- everyone at least knew of Edalia Kuns and the child she left when her addiction caught up with her. Her dad was going to be hanged for having orchestrated some sort of rebellion at the mines, but he escaped instead, leaving his girlfriend and newborn daughter. Marian’s mom wasted her last penny on any alcohol, powder, or pill she could get her hands on. She caused such a mess around town, I remember overhearing merchants sharing their relief when they found out she had overdosed. It was despicable.

Marian started working the mines at 16, tragically young to be in such a dangerous, dirty place. Having gotten to know her, I don’t know how she didn’t let it harden her. Despite all of it she still inhabited this world with flowers on her collar and energy to tell stories to the huddled orphans on the street.

“And tell us, what was your first impression of the Capitol after leaving dreary District 12?” Caesar continued probing.

I took a deep breath, not believing that it wasn’t over.

“Oh, well, I’ve been taking some pretty life changing showers.”

The crowd erupted with laughter. They liked her. I knew that that was our goal but I couldn’t help the rising jealousy as I watched the crowd scan her up and down. With just a little more courage I wanted to match on that stage, swoop her away, and give her real clothes. Screw the Games. Screw the sponsors. I just wanted her to be safe.

“Ha! Well that certainly is a charming answer,” Caesar looked out at the crowd who applauded on queue, like well trained baboons, “now the question that is on everyone’s mind: is there a lucky boy back home, Marian?”

Ugh. This question.

Judging by her face, she thought the same thing.

“Oh, no,” her giggle was an intoxicating sound as it escaped from her red lips, “I was too busy trying to survive, unfortunately.”

More laughter. I rolled my eyes on her behalf.

“Well, Marian, it seems like the entire Capitol is in love with you right now!” Caesar exclaimed out to the audience while she gave one last big smile to the camera. She was really good. “And if you win you’ll certainly have your pick of Capitol men!”

She stood up and the crowd followed suit, whistling and cheering as she waved. She looked down and the gold on her eyelids highlighted the warm chestnut colour of her eyes.

The whole ensemble was painfully Capitol, except for that eyeshadow. That color was all Marian- warm, luminous, beautiful.

I didn’t even realise how much I missed her. How much I needed her by my side, the few hours of separation tugged at my heart.

What will happen when she’s gone into the arena?

Whatever the outcome I knew in that moment that I would never recover from Marian Cartwright.

—

Next Chapter

Masterlist

[gplewis]

if uneasy, try merging with text

which is a swimming down

like a dart-serpent bolting from the harsh sunlight of the surface appearance into the cold circulation beneath, quelled by the welcoming goddess of nonsense i can invent out of nowhere, or tune back into, never separated from the land below the land ~ no concern whether this seems profound or even real, i wrote it because i could not live in my life as it were, having moved to a new city without a plan and finding no motivation to make a life, meet the right people, get involved (this isn’t true; i do go out, i try; no one would ever say i’m not doing enough. fear of running out of money is the main fear — imagine if money were no object: how would i choose love? what does rapacious living look like? eager and ardent? furious, curious, passionate, leaning and lunging like i did in days of yore: the urgency to rip up these railroad tracks ~ maybe i’m a more gentle painter now. But being a writer is humiliating, to reveal all this output, these thoughts ~ what could being seen do for me? Maybe my life resets all the time and never sets, never congeals into a narrative: maybe there are no more chapters, no more discrete beginnings and ends … the love of form is a love of endings. now i see that origins and destinations are one: listening to music, no idea whether what’s coming is going to be safe, driving home by lamplight, no end in sight, the mystery and drama renewing every moment, no rest from awareness and unstable trembling.

maybe this is necessary nonsense to try and adjust my thinking so i can move my body toward certain ends - is writing my work, or is living? i can’t just Do Things to do them, to fill the emptiness and cure (allay) the dread ~ it’s been a while since i’ve made myself onscreen: in a sense these photos i just took are perfectly my aesthetic: lost, wandering, looking, finding myself in familiar objects ~ to write the story of how i arrived here would be to tell a story of privilege, luck, fine parents, more grace and forgiveness than i deserve, alienation and exile from the workplace-driven model of a modern existence — but now, out at a bar, standing on the concrete floor listening to conversation warmed by the glistening television screens in my periphery, i can’t leave work since my insanity is my work. this simply doesn’t make sense and doesn’t look like anything else being posted, though i’ve taken a break from reading and being online all day, an odd move considering i went to Austin because internet people are here, but as soon as i have a way to save myself through belonging, i instinctively transform into something that could never fit in, ensuring my apartness … maybe purity and detachment are so strong in me, my compass leads me only here, into bleeding on the cross of inability to have or make a life and instead giving my life up to the addiction and obsession, calling and fate of narrating silence and articulating my pathless, endless walk ~ nonfiction encounter with the author’s own stuckness and inability to make a life that works seems more genuine and necessary than fiction right now, though i’d never launch my missile of claiming such a thesis into the cauldron of ravenous attention where such claims are registered, the internet

so i’m on the street doing the wrong things, the things that won’t save me, and taking pictures and making notes, wondering if i have one more lucky save in me, if the archangel is watching his prized little knight go to the familiar brink again, like last year: now i know all the years are the same, people don’t change

is it my fate to dissociate from my own name? i tried to live a life apart from writing and i couldn’t, i won’t, i don’t want to; the blistering terror of homelessness and being forsaken raises its head: maybe it’s what i need, to shock me into a direction i can commit to. is surfing my dread in my own words enough? i’m chill in this emergency

[galadhremmin]

We have derived Caranthir liking the Dwarves (and vice versa) because apparently, Finrod succeeds in every field Caranthir fails, and at this point it's clear this derives from the in-universe writer of the Silm and his own biases. Think about it: "Dark Finwë" , a grumpy, prejudiced lordling, and "Hair Champion", most handsome, noble king, have met with the same people!! Yet the king of the first secret kingdom is everyone's friend, but the prince that trades with them regularly is not... seems sus.

Hence, Caranthir is friends with the Dwarves. (But that is just an interpretation, so you're free to think what you wish, I just have several opinions on in-universe prejudice and the almighty narrative.)

I think that 'we' might actually have been Dawn Felagund years ago. Maybe this reading existed even before that, but I doubt that-- she's been very influential in silm fandom and was long before tumblr was much of a thing. https://dawnfelagund.com/caranthir-the-slandered

I wouldn't say it's 'clear' that what amounts to Caranthir's entire documented personality derives from the bias of the in-universe narrator, though as you can see from Dawn's writing it's a reading you can argue for. There are a number of different approaches you can take to the Silm and its biases anyway. One of the few times when it's absolutely clear the text isn't telling the entire story is when it talks about the Easterlings. I've posted about this before but the recorded names are, uhh.... the ones to betray the elves are unlikely to actually have been named things like 'ugly lord' and 'ugly beard.' 'Dark Finwe' on the other hand is a documented reference to his haircolour being dark like Finwe's own; hardly a negative judgement!

I personally think Caranthir can be exactly as ill-tempered and prejudiced as the Silm paints him without becoming an unsympathetic character. If a writer cannot make a moody, deeply prejudiced man an interesting character that is a failure as a writer; there are after all enough books who manage exactly that. That is not to say choosing not to write him that way is a failure (obviously not), but it's not necessary in order to make a reader feel for him at all.

Just going by the text, I think it actually might make for a more interesting narrative to explore in fic to me. Because he does change his mind about something, and at a very specific moment; when he meets the Haladin. That is much less dramatic if he secretly been as nice and popular as Finrod, and got along with everyone all the time already. He's been raised by Fëanor, who said things like 'No other race shall oust us!' and rallied the Noldor not motivated enough by vengeance for Finwë alone by playing on their deep-seated fear of being replaced by the Secondborn. Very unlikely that had no impact. At best it has made him uninterested in humans in his area (while they're not much of a threat to ruling instead of the elves anyway). The text says they paid them no heed.

And yet! Caranthir sees how brave Haleth and her people are. He 'does her great honour.' He changes his mind and offers them lands. His tragedy to me is not that of a slandered figure, but of this deeply, deeply prejudiced person raised to distrust the motivations of human beings -- who overcomes those beliefs, offers friendship, is rejected! then extends that same trust to the Easterlings anyway... and it's those specific Easterlings, not the ones who ally with his brothers-- who betray them all. And cause the disastrous ending of the Nirnaeth. It's the 'to evil end shall all things turn that they begin well' part of the curse hitting him in the least fair way possible. Someone finally changes for the better, and the outcome is treason and destruction.

That is a very good character arc to me, actually. His aesthetics-based scorn for the Dwarves is reprehensible but strikes me as deeply Elvish, and part of his prejudices. Naugrim is too unflattering a name for them for it not to be common. His temper-- well why can't he have one? Sure there's only one recorded instance -- but that's imo because there are hardly any conversations in the Silm! Anyway I like some people with tempers well enough. Personally I think people are missing out on opiniated grouches.

Obviously the biased anti-Feanorian Pengolodh reading is a nice one, and I have enjoyed a lot of stories written based it. But it's not at all a reading that is necessary for me to read Caranthir as a flawed but sympathetic character. He can have serious faults and still, ultimately, be someone I feel for.

What I was asking though was if I overlooked any canon evidence of Caranthir being particularly, personally fond of the Dwarves; and it seems I did not. Also; there is room for Caranthir growing to like the Dwarves over centuries without an anti-Feanorian bias reading this strong, there is simply no evidence for friendship in the rather barebones narrative (I'm not interested atm because it's wildly overdone to me & I like variety).

That said, in my opinion making Caranthir the hidden, slandered Feanorian Finrod equivalent with a dash of Curufin's Dwarf affection is not as enjoyable as simply working with what little canon character is actually there. Because there is one (and it's not the greedy tax collector of some fanon depictions either imo)

1. To start with, wrt Caranthir as the anti-Finrod, I don't think it works that well. Sure sure dark/light, open/prejudiced, repressed/shouty, but different motivations, different locations, plus they meet very different peoples even if both are Edain-- besides, Caranthir's own older brothers do successfully ally with the Easterlings without betrayal, while Curufin (much more so than Finrod! no Khuzdul for Finrod!) is the Dwarves' Friend(tm). Also, a flawed Finrod already exists. That's just the regular edition. He has his own faults and (very different) tragic arc.

If Finrod never seems to have strong prejudices to overcome, and if he's not confrontational (which... look he's a diplomat. Make of that what you will. Pretty awkward there in Doriath, buddy!) he does have trouble facing his own complicity (he wanted to sail those ships despite the murders) until Sauron beats him to death with it. He leaves Valinor with the idea of ruling but he has to give up the crown. He's ambitious, he seems emotionally repressed, he's.. possibly paying the greater Dwarves to drive the Petty Dwarves out of their ancestral home to build a city? Oops. Depending on the version you go with in that case, of course; there's also ones where he's free of the blame of that one. Not of wanting to sail those ships and being uneasy with the guilt wrt wanting to do so despite their being stolen and murdered for though. No he doesn't kill; but he wants to use the result of it anyway, and to make it worse he is actually half Telerin.

There's also (to be fair, only for sure after the disaster of the Sudden Flame because that's the recorded instance) his guards killing random innocent trespassers to keep his kingdom hidden -- yes, that's right there in Silm, yes he's still King at the time. Beren has to wave that ring. People just seem to miss that he'd be killed without it somehow.

I think it's just too easy to reduce him to the golden perfect opposite of Caranthir. Yes he's described more positively; he's also just mentioned more because unlike Caranthir he rules an actual kingdom, the greatest and richest in Beleriand in fact; and does things that have a lot of very longterm effects, like helping B&L steal a Silmaril. They don't 'meet the same people' anyway -- the Haladin have a different culture from the Beorians which contributes to their reaction to Caranthir (and iirc their later fate).

Sidenote: Dawn's essay attributes the Green Elves helping the Feanorians at Amon Ereb to Caranthir's diplomatic skills; but why not to those of Amras or Amrod? This is the quote; 'Caranthir fled and joined the remnant of his people to the scattered folk of the hunters, Amrod and Amras, and they retreated and passed Ramdal in the south. Upon Amon Ereb they maintained a watch and some strength of war, and they had aid of the Green-elves' -- nothing here indicates it was Caranthir who got them that aid. In fact A&A are the hunters, i.e. more likely to have roamed in various forests where they would have encountered Green Elves, imo.

There's also the very desperate times to consider in which this aid takes place. This is just post Sudden Flame, and even if the Green Elves didn't like Caranthir they probably liked him better than Morgoth. Also, speaking of cosmopolitans, Maedhros allies with, yes, Dwarves (Azaghal), Grey elves, Easterlings (and you might say: Fingolfinians); even part of the remaining people of Dorthonion rally to Himring post sudden flame (that means Edain and Arafinwean followers in Himring, at least for a time), and he manages to be friendly with Felagund despite calling him a badger. ;)

Finrod is not the only other leader to forge diverse alliances, and though B&L ends happily his people mostly do not. Caranthir's not much like Finrod in any way. Not in motivations, temperament, tragic arc. That's fine. No hidden kingdom for a dragon to eat either. Finrod could probably do with being a little less like Finrod sometimes, though he's well-intentioned and likable. Caranthir loves to shout and isn't sneaky. Good for him.

2. Curufin also already exists. His love for Dwarves is one of his defining and redeeming characteristics and boy does he need them. He's daddy's favourite, a sneaky overambitious bitchy bastard who is also a talented smith and linguist, and truly considered a Dwarf friend, which is apparently exceptional. He's quite flawed; tries to help Celegorm force a political marriage, laughs with a bruised mouth, seeming to lose his mind while attempting and failing murder after first losing his own stronghold and then the city he tried to take from his cousin. He's just... a personality. Mostly a bad one! You can feel for him though, because he seems like an utter mess. Many 'i would love to study you' feelings on my part. Would hate for him to be real but also I'd pay to be his therapist.

3. And then finally there's Canon Caranthir. A difficult, prejudiced person who despite that (which doesn't at all have to mean there is no despite, the despite is what makes it juicy)

- seems to be responsible for re-establishing (large scale?) trade with the Dwarves, whatever he might think of them (and they of him) to their mutual benefit. I don't think he's greedy either. It seems like a mutually profitable situation. Access to Dwarvish goods seems pretty vital to Beleriand, and facilitating trade is a real service.

As someone pointed out in the replies, the Silm does mention Dwarvish companies travelling east to Nan Elmoth and menegroth various times, but quote wrt Caranthir says 'Caranthir’s people came upon the Dwarves, who after the onslaught of Morgoth and the coming of the Noldor had ceased their traffic into Beleriand' and 'when the Dwarves began again to journey into Beleriand.'

They stopped at some point and Caranthir's people made it happen again.

- which means he's practical. He seems like he's good at organising, and setting his own feelings aside if necessary despite his prejudice and temper (which is an achievement it wouldn't be without his, hm, everything). Also he and his people as well as the Dwarves work together well because ''either people loved skill and were eager to learn,' despite their (initial?) mutual dislike. Those aren't bad characteristics; seems like it was an exchange of skill as well as goods and possibly providing safe travel opportunities.

I don't like the 'greedy Caranthir' fanon and don't think it is even that easy support entirely with canon. 'They had of it great profit,' the text says-- both Caranthir and the Dwarves. They exchanged skills and knowledge and Caranthir seems to have helped them start trading in Beleriand again. That's hardly Scrooge Mcduck.

- Another thing we can say about canonthir (lol) is that he apparently attaches a lot of value to aesthetics (was he a visual artist? is a he a sculptor like Nerdanel? WORSE: AN ART CRITIC?! Feanorian art critic is truly nightmare fuel) and that's why he dislikes Dwarves (of all things...). Either way points to 'aesthetics' as something apparently important to Caranthir. Which makes sense given who his parents are. What is interesting to me is that this apparently DOESN'T matter to Curufin, who is a lot like Feanor in most things. That's interesting!

I've never, never seen this but I think it would be very funny to attribute his aesthetic prejudices to Nerdanel. I love her; but why should her opinions be perfect? I know she wasn't considered beautiful herself, but she's an artist. She's got to have had some strong opinions on aesthetics anyway. I doubt it's the beards; Mahtan had one as well. And 'stunted'...at least some of this comes down to the Elvish obsession with height yet again. Hm.

- eventually Caranthir overcomes what have to be some very deeply held beliefs about human beings and their place in the world, and offers what for all intents and purposes looks like real friendship, not the ruling over Men Feanor seems to have had in mind at best. He's capable of real change!

Anyway his character works just fine to me from canon, and what he achieves and the ways in which he fails are more interesting that way rather-- neither slandered Feanorian Finrod 2.0 nor Curufin 'Dwarf Fan' Feanorion without the sneakiness and murder attempts pack the same punch as a stupidly prejudiced grouchy man doing his best anyway for centuries in this stupid ugly cursed land, eventually changing for the better, opening up-- and being brutally punished for it by the Doom.

Dammit. I hope there's therapy in the Everlasting Darkness.

hm a bit long but that's what I get for trying to gather my thoughts wrt why after considering it a bit transferring Curufin's love for Dwarves to Caranthir is a bit boring to me personally. Though there are still stories that still do it very well.

[errantryraptor]

analog horror (and adjacent) series ratings

local58: has oldest sibling syndrome. it was the “first” so it seems to be the standard by which all other analog horror series are judged but honestly it’s not my favorite. You Are On The Fastest Available Route is legitimately one of the best horror shorts i’ve seen in a while though. great atmosphere, points for originality, though imo the episodes are hit or miss. haven’t got much to say about the story, it’s cool but not really that compelling

rating: moderately spooky but nothing to lose sleep over. 5/8

gemini home entertainment: lowkey the best one out there. it’s the most believable-- i would buy that the videos were actually created on tape, or at least transferred to tape and then re-digitized. (a lot of analog horror wannabes use the same VHS Effect Overlay and digital glitch effects, which are more aesthetically pleasing but don’t feel authentic. the pacing is wonderful as well-- each video gives you just enough information so that you can start to piece together the story without having it handed to you.

rating: didn’t want to turn the lights off after watching this one. however many legs the hungry eye has/10

monument mythos / ALEXKANSAS: i wouldn’t necessarily class these as “horror”, more like “alternate timeline history/scifi”. really neat concept, though text/narration heavy. could benefit more from “show, don’t tell”, even if the videos are formatted as if they’re amateur youtube documentaries. you can read it as a critique of the global effects of capitalism and american civil religion. sadly the comments section does not seem to get the point. the pacing suffers near the end of season 2, though, i feel like it connects the dots too quickly

rating: not scary, i could watch it full screen without a problem. lost my shit at the suez canal episode, crab/10

the walten files: okay. okay. listen. i came into this series pretty skeptically because at this point the horror market is saturated with FNAF clones and wannabe-spinoffs. however. i honestly think this stands on its own as a good horror series. i also can’t explain why i love the visuals as much as i do, but there’s something about the clumsy “just-discovered-the-airbrush-tool” artstyle and the stilted, awkward way the script is written that makes it so charming-- which in turn makes it really effective as a work of horror.

rating: lots of jumpscares, but sadly i am not immune to jumpscares and even without them the atmosphere is enough to make it pretty scary. please can we stop making fnaf clones/10

the mandela catalogue: this one is Okay. i feel like it has potential to be good, but it also has potential to be very bad. there aren’t a lot of episodes yet, so i really don’t have a lot to say about it. the editing is pretty good though, even though i can’t take the scary faces seriously because my brain just goes “WHEN THE IMPOSTER IS SUS”

rating: scary, but the scares are kinda cheap at times. i’m definitely keeping an eye on the series. sus/10

eventide media center: was so unmemorable that i literally forgot it existed immediately after watching, and only remembered it when scrolling through my youtube watch history looking for other series on this list, so make of that what you will. the effects are good, it’s definitely unsettling, but i feel like it just needs more of an identity y’know.

rating: what if they were growing brains in a greenhouse would that be fucked up or what. anyway i’m rod serling/10

anyway these r just my opinions, i’m very picky with my horror. the moral is that you should all go watch gemini home entertainment immediately. and if i missed any, feel free to recommend them to me, i’m running low on my backlog of horror to watch this october :V

[ladyloveandjustice]

Reading the Winry novel Part 1

-This really gets into the details of Winry’s work and how stuff is split up at the automail shop! Garfiel’s shop is very well liked and he was getting way more work than he could handle because is shop is popular, that’s why he needed Winry. They offer both pricier stuff and more affordable options for people in need.

Starting out, Garfiel handles the regulars and people who need stuff build from scratch,  Winry handles the walk-ins and does some blueprints for the regulars. She confirms it was extremely hard to get good material in Resembool, and they way more availability here.

-Winry is very reluctant to do the detaching/reattaching thing, since she knows it’s painful, which jives, so even if it’s harder for her to see what’s wrong, she comes up with creative ways to avoid it, especially with younger patients.

(like, I once saw a paper that said Winry was emblematic of prejudice against prosthetics-wearers by being occasionally dismissive Ed’s pain and it’s like...uh...that’s because they’re friends and communicate largely in snark and bickering? She wouldn’t talk that way to another patient, she just actually knows him well enough to know he won’t care? So this light novel confirms that, THANK YOU.)

-She actually uses heavy machinery to manufacture some parts and practices in her spare time!

-The first case Garfiel has her manage is a bratty little boy, but she’s got EXPERIENCE in that department, baby. Except no, this kid won’t actually tell her why he’s angry, and she’s like “WHAT I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO ED AT THAT AGE WOULD HAVE TOLD ME WHATEVER WAS PISSING HIM OFF RIGHT AWAy!!!”. She calls Ed “very expressive with his emotions” YEAH BOTH OF YOU ARE, SWEETIE.

-this kid’s regular prosthetic doesn’t fit him correctly, so he needs a replacement right away

-Winry keeps her tools she used since she was small and because she takes such good care of them (even when not using them that often!) and still polishes them every day, they still work, which gives extra context to her frustration about Ed not doing his maintenance. She’s really conscientious about the stuff she has to take care of so why can’t he be, huh!!!

-She has mechanic friends! Both boys, unfortunately. I still only have that one game for mechanic girlfriends content, sigh. They all have tea time at Garfiels and Winry notes the teacups fit “the Garfiel aesthetic” apparently he has an official one.

-The kid actually had a really bad experience with the previous prosthetics place he was at, and they were careless with him and caused him a lot of pain, which is why he doesn’t trust Winry or any mechanics now.

-Winry gets super angry that this happened, naturally, and is surprised to see Garfiel get really angry too, since she’s never seen him like that before! Okay, i really do love that we’re getting to see him be a rounded person in this novel and seeing why Winry would be close to him and work with him. Anyway, Garfiel explains to Winry that it’s not uncommon to have people who get into automail solely for the money and run it like a corrupt business, overpricing automail and even forcing people into bad deals, because it’s easy to abuse and fleece people who are disadvantaged and desperate. THIS NOVEL IS GETTING REAL.

-Though it does get a little extreme when it’s revealed when a mechanic stood up to one of these people, his shop got BURNED TO THE GROUND Is this book about how Winry going to have to fight the automail mafia please let Winry fight the automail mafia.

-The police are useless, that tracks.

“Winry was the embodiment of an automail nerd” IT’S A GOOD THING SHE CAN’T HEAR THE NARRATION OR SHE’D BE HITTING IT IN THE FACE.

[ladybirdwithoutdots]

I was just thinking about the fact Emma 2020 is clearly told from Emma's protagonist-perspective but Mr Knightley is the one character whose pov you see indipendently from her (or when she can see him) since his first scene, so he essentially is treated as co-protagonist by the narrative. Even his yellow riding coat seems to be a nod to Emma's own yellow ensemble but at the same time, it does place him in a co-lead role and there is even a parallel between Emma's scene with Harriet and his own scene with Robert Martin. One is meddling in Harriet’s personal life manipulating her, the other is accidentally finding himself on the side of a Harriet/Robert supporter, lol.

Notice for example that the only scene Harriet gets that is just about her (meaning not something functional to Emma's story or that Emma can see too) is the one in the end between her and Robert because it's the moment she gets rid of Emma's bad influence and makes her own choices following her own feelings, which signals her own character growth.  

For Mr Knightley it's a bit on reverse because he has a different character arc: he starts as an independent character from Emma but as the story progresses, while he's still independent, he also realizes how much he needs her and the thought of losing her brings him despair, and from that moment (the aftermath of the ball), everytime you see him again it's about Emma. His character arc is about realizing how much being alone and independent isn't enough for him anymore..everything he was sure of before is challenged, and he understands and admits he actually needs Emma more than he could have ever imagined when he met her. In fact, in the end it's part of his independence he is willing to give up to be with the woman he loves. There is something foundamental Mr Knightley learns, and it's also part of understanding Emma's loneliness better than he ever did before.

A lot of things about Mr Knightley kind of represent an epiphany of sorts. There are phrases from the beginning that are foreshadowing of his own journey and his character arc. You could say he has to eat his own words too sometimes, lol. For instance, in his first scene with Emma he teases her about people crying at Miss Taylor's wedding: in the end you see him moved to tears at his own wedding^. And of course there is the infamous "I want to see Emma in love and with some doubt of a return" that backfires so much 😂.

I think it's a clever way to highlight his own character arc from the book too. In the novel, you think he's very independent mostly at the beginning (*) but with time, you realize in retrospect how much he needed Emma and why he spent so much time with her and her father. He's ok alone, he's a dynamic, independent and kinda energic person, but Donwell is empty (love the movie shows how much it's preserved but only his room is *home*. Cue the dust sheets covering the furniture in other rooms) and deep down a part of him longs for a companion, someone whom he can share his life with. He doesn’t realize that or admit it at first, in a way he thinks he’s independent and unaffected by some things but he realizes that he isn’t. Deep down he wanted to marry and have kids like his brother, and he could've easily found himself a wife but he was already in love with Emma without realizing it, somehow ‘waiting’ for her without knowing he was essentially doing that (it’s the same for her, they both subconsciously put their feelings away because they think the one person they really want isn’t interested about them that way). It's the discovery of his own loneliness, and how much he loves and needs Emma, that helps him understand her and her own loneliness (that she compensated with the match making and trying to find a friend in Harriet after the loss of Miss Taylor) even better.  (*) (the beginning of the novel also coincides, for me, with the only time in the story where I do remember he’s older than her. By the time I get to the end, the more I realize he needs Emma and loves her, the more I forget about this aspect and he seems to be..younger. Funny enough, that’s also a moment in the story where Austen tells you that he comes across as young to Emma herself. The way she subtly hints that HE is the love interest is delightful btw.) 

I must say, Emma has a similar journey about romance and marriage.  At first, she thinks it isn't for her and she tells herself that she doesn't want to marry, when really the thing preventing her is mostly duty towards her father. I think a lot of people misunderstand her character to ostensibly try to make her a modern feminist heroine, which isn’t a bad thing per se but often it ends up erasing a good part of her own character arc and what still is a very important point. The thing is, Emma does have a romantic heart that she tries to express through match-making by finding a companion for her friends, because in that moment it's the only way she feels she's allowed to experience romance too. Emma thinks she’s free but she really isn’t, psychologically at least she is trapped in a cage where her father’s needs are the priority no matter what her heart wants or may want. This aspect is important because at the beginning of the story, she's naive and an unreliable narrator of herself and her feelings. In the end, when her delusions shatter she realizes she isn’t as immune to some things as she thought she was, and she had always been in love with Mr Knightley. You could argue that it’s not so true Emma isn't interested about romance or marriage... she is, with the man she loves. She simply isn’t ready at the beginning, nor she thinks she is allowed to have what she wants.  In fact, she does a 180° about the whole "I don't want to get married" thing when he asks her to marry him, and she is pained by the idea that they wouldn't be able to marry asap because of her father. You'd think it wouldn't make a big difference for her either way given Mr Knightley would still be with them every day like be always was, and she could still preserve their routine that was so dear to her; but it's not enough for her anymore. Acting as friends only isn't enough anymore. That's why she's pained by the idea she may not be allowed to marry him asap: she longs to have a companion, to have an intimacy she wouldn't be allowed to have with him without being married. And when he does find a perfect solution so they can be together, she's conflicted about his sacrifice but also incandescently happy that they can marry sooner than she thought they'd be allowed to. The point is, part of Emma's coming of age arc is discovering her own sexual agency too, and the fact she finds herself wanting things she didn't think she even wanted before. Austen is subtle like you'd expect her to be in context but that’s what she implies in the end, in the most dignified way sure but she does that in the way Emma's feelings about marriage completely change when she knows she's in love and he loves her back.

It's also interesting to notice that, in a way, just like Mr Knightley understands some things about Emma better in the end when he discovers his own vulnerabilities, Emma also does start to fully understand and respect Harriet's feelings for Robert and his for her only when she herself realizes her own love for Mr Knightley, and thus she understands that marriage isn't necessarily just a matter of convenience like she thought it was. 

(ps: I headcanon Emma as demisexual/demiromantic, btw. I feel like a lot of things about her make even more sense when you think that beside the lack of experience, she is someone who needs to be in love and share a strong bond with a person to fully understand and want some things. The moment at the ball when she’s dancing with Frank but she’s completely distracted by how attractive she finds Mr Knightley is one of my favorites. She’s generically able to appreciate people’s beauty from an aesthetic perspective such as noticing someone has pretty eyes or hair etc, but when it comes to real attraction Austen is all about Emma finding Mr Knightley hot because it’s him, not really because he has this or that physical feature she finds pretty.)

[shirophantomvox]

Hold My Hand- Illumi x Reader

OMG thank you! My first international fan! Thank you for this wonderful prompt! This was requested by @illucilfer .

Summary: Today’s story takes place in a 1950s diner by a frequently used Interstate; Interstate 95. We know this dinner for its delicious hamburgers, hot dogs, milkshakes, and jukebox records, but every night one Patreon never returns home. A few men who were angry about your recent arrest have shot you both. As you both stare at each other exchanging mental signals, everyone around you tries to help you to the hospital. Y/N is narrating the story. I seem to have fewer grammar errors that way. FYI, Bold and italicized font will reference a thought or flashback.

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The leaves have turned bright yellow and orange, fluttering every second to the ground. I could hear little children a while away laughing and playing in the community park; throwing up the leaves, jumping into piles, and throwing them at each other. The smell of freshly baked donuts brightened everyone’s mood. All you had to do was take one bite and your face would brighten and crack a smile. Dining at Cupid’s Kitchen will always have your heart and interest.

Interstate 95 was always heavy with traffic during this time of year. The folks of Dallas celebrated mulch annually. The “Mulch Fest” was a street fair that stretched 1.5 miles to the east that contained music, drinks, farmer panels, homemaker Q&A, and other activities that southerners enjoy. Illumi and I are only here because of an unfinished assignment. We have worked night and day for countless days trying to catch Jack “Da Hamor” Gilberton, but he was nowhere to be found. Eventually, I allowed my anger to get the best of me and made the executive decision to take a day off. I barred Illumi from searching, tracking, or any form of hunting for our target. The life of a bounty hunter and an assassin can thrill, but it can drive you insane if you allow it.

Ironically, Illumi and I both enjoy fall. It is perfect for cuddling (although he acts as if he’s too good to cuddle), wearing creative hoodies, going to pumpkin patches, and attending apple orchids. I tend to “lose my cool” when we have dates there. When I was a child, my family did not go on trips like these because they were over an hour away from our home and I had 5 siblings. But once I made money for myself, I made it my mission to go to one at least 5 times out of the year. Illumi enjoys the different fudge, hot cider, and candy apples. He almost broke a tooth on one!

“Say cheese snag-a’-tooth!”

“Stop it. It’s not funny!”

“It is! Could you imagine if you lost your two front teeth? You’d look almost adorable as you did in the 1st grade!”

“How did you know about that?”

“Duh! It happens to everyone, but your mother showed me the pictures, of course.”

“Curses!”

Illumi’s sweet tooth is just like Killua’s; both have a weakness for chocolate. Except, Killua will admit defeat while his older brother keeps denying it.

Cupid’s Dinner has been in Dallas for over 55 years. A black woman established it in 1945 by the name of Mary-Lou Benson. Since then, Mary’s family has been running the shop, making sure all of her customers are happy with the service. During the turn of each season, Cupid’s Dinner gives its customer's food options based on the season. The fall options include donuts, candy apples, different flavored cider, fudge, and hot coffee specials. As much as everything looked appetizing, I could not order it all. Our server, Little Ben, placed our drinks in front of us and handed us the menu. I could tell he was happy with his line of work, just as I was to be with Illumi.

“You all take your time. I’ll be back in five.”

Ilumi glanced on both sides of the room, scanning for Jack Gilberton, already forgetting the agreement we established.

“Illumi, what are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking around like you’ve seen Da Hamor. Eat your donut and relax, sweetheart.”

“I cannot relax. I must stay on alert.”

“If I can relax, so can you. It’s not that hard.”

“Fine. If I die, it’s on your head… literally.”

The jingling bell rang almost every second when a customer walked in. It was a joy to everyone's ears; the spirit of Mary Lou-Benson was alive and well. An overwhelming feeling of love seemed to have overtaken the diner. After examining the bistro for quite some time now, each customer had been using their cellphones at the table instead of chatting with their families. Many traditional families hated that about this generation but they should be open to new traditions forming. Illumi dislikes using cell phones or tablets at the table unless we use them for missions. He has emphasized how rude it is to be surfing the web about utter nonsense while someone is speaking. This is a pet peeve of his, something I’ll never step on his toe about. Although I think that is overdoing it, I respect it.

Little Ben served our table quickly, leaving us with two dishes of a classic chicken sandwich, kettle chips, one chocolate, and vanilla milkshake. Milkshakes were my weakness; I nearly foam at the mouth when I see one. When I found out that Illumi had NEVER had a milkshake, I almost fainted.

“No. I’ve never had a milkshake.”

“Huh? You’re missing out, pal.”

“What’s the big deal? Isn’t it frozen milk?”

“Not just frozen milk. You can add many flavors, toppings, and whip cream!”

“Well, then. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

We thanked Little Ben for his service as he clocked out for the day.

“I have to admit these sandwiches look very appetizing.”

“You can say that again!”

Before I nibbled on my sandwich, I wanted to take a moment and adore the man before me; Illumi Zoldyck. A man full of mysteries, professionalism, skill, and talent. His enormous eyes were immersed in the large pieces of chicken in between the sourdough bread. He licked his index finger vigorously; allowing the homemade honey mustard to drip enough from the bread to the plate in between licks. Just the sight of him actually relaxing for once has blown me away. For once, Illumi Zoldyck could be himself and I had the privilege to witness it.

“Um… why are you staring at me? Do I have food on my face,” he asked; violently wiping his mouth off with a provided cloth napkin.

“Oh! Ha, ha; no reason. I wanted to see your reaction after drinking your milkshake. That’s all.”

“Why? It’s just a drink.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Babe? What happened to LuLu or Illumi-Lu?”

I gasped and pretended to be surprised… although I was a little.

“I did not know that you liked those pet names. I assumed it mortified you.”

“Who told you that? That never rolled off my tongue. “What I said was” — He bent closer to the table and to me; glancing both to the right and left to ensure no wandering ears were around — “I prefer Illumi-Lu to be said in the bedroom and LuLu when we’re alone, like how we are right now.”

“Aww…. ok,” I yelled in excitement.

“Don’t blow it out of proportion, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

As we ate, Illumi hummed along to the tune that played a few times on the restaurant's jukebox. Illumi and I were born in the mid-90s, but listening to 50s music was a part of his aesthetic. I was told that he had an “old soul” which sounds romantic at first until you realize how men were during that era. His raging temper was a noticeable toxic trait, but it has drastically improved. Nonchalantly sipping on his milkshake and then eating more of his chips, he grazed the soft part of his left hand over mine as he continued to hum.

“What’s the name of this song? You seem to know it rather well.”

“Put your head on my shoulder, a famous song from the 60s. I heard my parents sing it once and since then, they have addicted me to it. Do you like it?”

“Yes, in fact, I love it. All of this is—”

“A surprise to you? Well, enjoy it while it lasts because once I find Jack Gilberton, this side of me will hide for a while.”

“Understood.”

Damn! I was just feeling connected to him again!

The music swelled; everyone seemed to be happy. Not an evil spirit insight to disrupt this beautiful moment. For once in my life, my raven-haired beauty actually held my hand tight, stole a few of my barbecue kettle chips, and gazed into my eyes harmlessly. His lips brushed against both of my hands, ever so lightly placing kisses on both sides of them. Illumi’s gentle smile warmed my heart as my lingering thoughts of hope stayed intact.

The welcoming bell jingled again. Two men in black leather jackets, stone-washed blue jeans, and tattooed all over their arms came into the diner. The men seemed to be bikers who had just left their own “spot” but one thing struck me as they continued to walk towards the staff. They both wore sunglasses when the sunset for the day. Not to mention that the lights were not dim in the diner and the moon was as bright as ever. The second man had his eyes glued in my direction. My heart beat faster as I wondered if Jack Gilberton had found us. Could you imagine?

Put your head on my shoulder

Hold me in your arms, baby

Squeeze me oh-so-tight

Show me you love me too

I am used to coming in contact with enemies on my hit list, but given Jack’s criminal history; I felt like I may not survive his attacks. Illumi will survive, but just barely. Both men approached the checkout, crowing over Little Ben’s sister. She was a short woman but full of might, and I could tell by the shakiness in her voice she was frightened. I wanted to step in so badly, but I didn't want to blow my cover just in case it was, in fact, Jack Gilberton. After I assume, ordering food, both men stood by the entrance, blocking it from others from entering and leaving. The sound of their old, beat up-lighters crackled as one lit a joint and the other lit a cigarette. This horrid smell ruined the atmosphere because they were not in a designated area and it drowned out the lovely aroma of the food being served.

“If you gentlemen would like to smoke, you need to go outside. There is no smoking in here.”

“What? You think you’re better than me because you don’t smoke?”

“Huh? I never said that, sir. I asked for you to go outside. Not all of our customers can deal with it.”

They did not move a muscle. The sound of their mucous laughter made everyone’s stomach turn. They laughed at the young girl and called her many slurs. Little Ben’s sister didn’t flinch, nor did she cry; she remained still, staring at the men. I had just enough of their obnoxious behavior.

“If you do not leave, I will call the police.”

“The hell you won’t.”

Put your lips next to mine, dear

Won't you kiss me once, baby?

He drew a gun from his left side. He aimed it at Little Ben’s sister and demanded that she emptied the drawer. She refused. Her stone, iron will reminded me of Illumi; no matter the circumstance, they remained intact, determined to fight until the end. Bravery is always encouraged, but too much will cause your life to be taken away. Little Ben’s sister grabbed a fake till that they kept under the real one and threw it at both men. Fake money fluttered everywhere in the small diner, mimicking confetti. Gunshots rang in all directions as the imbeciles recklessly shot, aiming for Little Ben’s sister. Everyone threw themselves on the ground to avoid being shot, but luck cannot spread itself throughout an entire room of people. A young child, an older man, and another worker were shot in their lower leg. Blood reflected from the ground as it continued to seep. Ignoring injured civilians is a jackass move and continuing to deny the fact would prove that the oath I pledge to meant nothing. Sure, bounty hunters must remain hidden, but if someone is injured, I must help them.

The child was lying lifeless on the polished marble floor. He would not respond to my shaking or my silent whispers. When I rolled him over, my heart broke into a million pieces. This child had no chance of survival; a few bullets struck his chest, one just inches away from his heart. A tear rolled down my cheek.

“Why must the good die young,” I whispered to myself.

“... Because snitches get stitches.”

Before I could gain sight of who stated this utterly corny response, I felt an overwhelming amount of pain in my lower back. It felt like a million tiny needles were jabbed so far through my skin that they entered my intestine. I could still hear, but my body would not move. I tried and tried, but my brain would not signal my legs.

Move! Move, damn it!

It’s odd; I could hear myself talk, but my body would not move at all. The sound of another thudding body made my mind jump. My heart had already been pounding enough to try to resuscitate my organs to move, but a familiar semi-blurring sight of none other than Mr. Illumi Zoldyck cleared my sight. My brain went wild. I didn’t know if Illumi died or if he became paralyzed, but one thing is for sure. We finally made eye contact that felt special; something I hadn’t felt since the day I met him. Our contact felt like magnets; an unbreakable bond. Suddenly, my icy hand felt warmth around my palm and fingers. Illumi simultaneously fell in a way that connected our hands. Our unbreakable bond, the warmth of his fingers laying on top of mine, and the gaze we shared somehow made me feel like it was just the two of us alone. I could hear his thoughts loud and clear; thoughts that came from the heart.

“Please help me. Before it’s too late, LuLu,” I cried, thinking I was going insane. “I don’t want to leave if it means leaving you behind.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

“Please! I want to live a life. Life as a bounty hunter, build a support system to our children, and a good lover is all I want to be.”

“You are a warrior and so am I. We have been through worse. This is nothing.”

Mere eye contact is all we need to exchange wandering conversations. The bond that we’ve created is something so strong that I haven’t realized it until now. The warmth emitted from his loose grasp seems to lose its effectiveness. It blurred my vision beyond recognition, leaving Illumi as a near figment of my imagination.

“Oh no. I guess this is it.”

My vision darkened. Illumi was slipping away as my lingering thoughts almost made my heart give out from exhaustion. I was ready to accept my fate, but it seemed like fate had other plans. My vision was still darkening by the second, but my sense of touch remained there. Smooth fingers outline my arms, torso, and chest. I heard muffled voices yelling and screaming about calling for assistance, but I didn’t care if they came or not. I made peace with my life’s end. Bit by bit, my breathing slowed down, but my sense of touch remained heightened. I felt a rubber glove touch my face and neck, examining it for any damage.

The jukebox continued to play Illumi’s favorite song, Put Your Head on my Shoulder. I remembered the day I laid my head on his shoulder; boy, what an endearing moment that was. It was something I took for granted, something I should have savored, for I never knew that this moment would have happened. The song grew muffled by the second verse. That verse repeated every time I tried to force myself to take what felt like my last gaze at my raven-haired beauty.

Just a kiss goodnight, maybe

You and I will fall in love (you and I will fall in love)

-FIN.

A/N: Since you’ve made it to the end, I’ll say something. The reader did not die in the end. They were later revived at the hospital.

[rataltouille]

GEOMETRY OF THE HOLY MOON (1 AM): A SHORT STORY

GENRE: surrealism, literary fiction.

POV & TENSE: this little space is not enough for how wild the form is so i talk about this later!!

SETTING: a small desi village, 1924-25.

TONE: dreamy, unsettling, melancholic.

THEMES: faith vs reality, how people perceive others and how they perceive themselves, grief dealt the wrong way.

AESTHETICS: the splash of water on a quiet night, thick clouds obscuring the sky, rippling the moon’s reflection on the water. the intensity of a garden in spring, the emptiness of a dying town, the suffocation from being singled out. hands grazing lightly but never fully held. a lingering sadness behind your laugh. believing in things you shouldn't believe in. putting faith on a starless sky.

STAGE: completed first draft, 4085 words.

LOGLINE: a young boy, surrounded by loss, claims to talk to god. the story follows him and his conversations with this god, all while his village spies on him as he weaves his way around the two most crucial and lonely years of his life.

LITERAL LOGLINE: on today’s news let’s talk about a small backward town that hates sad little boys who worship god, even though the place is lowkey a cult!!

CHARACTERS:

THE SUMMER BOY: he’s around thirteen, and he’s very emotionally attached to his past. he lost his family at a young age to an unstable force, so he spends his time talking to himself. he’s a quiet, demure and sweet person, always willing to help others. he’s outwardly oblivious and sees only the good in people to a point where he doesn't understand when they’re trying to do him wrong. but! considering how the story [like a lot of my others] has themes of perception vs reality, it needs to be said that he isn't all that innocent. he’s rather impulsive and rash, never afraid of hurting himself [and thus accidentally harming others].

A GOD: is he real? do we even know if he’s an actual god? a very elusive figure despite having a lot of screentime. he’s a surprisingly humanised character and arguably the one with the most empathy. he has a soft spot for the boy and the two have a deep bond which is not common for a human and a god to have. you don’t get insight to what the other gods are like, but they’re implied to exist. this story has a very messy and hazy view towards religion and godhood and their nature towards humanity, and this vague figure, a dreamlike character, is proof enough of that.

THE VILLAGE: okay so in general these people suck. the village consists of, well, the village, but they’re very fluid in the way they appear in the story? as in for the most part they appear as a collective, a unit. one character, the summer boy’s “friend”, is somewhat separate considering he’s a pretty important character. it’s very hard describing this unit of a character but essentially they’re the main antagonistic force and they hate the protagonist for seemingly no reason.

WHAT GOES DOWN:

sometime around this time, the boy chances upon meeting his “god”, this being who lives up in the clouds and whom he talks with often, except you don't know if this god is real or not. that’s one of the recurring themes of this story: what’s real and what isn’t. it’s :) a fun time :) for sure :)

essentially Things Happen And It Only Gets Weirder. i cannot even try describing what happens because it’s all very spoilery but let’s just say that this is a very sad story but not even in a “this makes me cry” manner, but rather in a “this is so fucked up wtf why”. the prose of this is very, very hazy and thick, in a manner that’s both smooth and suffocating. there’s also a lot of moon and water imagery which we love. i love the atmosphere + the setting—colonial india— as it’s a subtle but key element to the plot.

FORM:

OKAY YES be prepared for the true colours of how unhinged i am. i apologize for the form brainrot.

POV: so in this story i really said “what if it had all three of the main povs... jk jk... unless 😳😳” and then proceeded to use all three povs. you’re probably wondering, how did i do that? WHY did i do that? and my answer to that is: 🙂

the first-person pov: the summer boy narrates in first person. his pov takes up about 40% of the story, and this is where we unlock family backstory + how he feels about the various forces playing into his life. he’s an extremely unreliable narrator and he knows it; his narration oscillates between very naive and very self-aware, and this effect is pretty disconcerting. the summer boy is kind of a walking contradiction and we love that conflict.

the second-person pov: a god narrates in second person. his pov takes around 20% of the story, and his scenes all involve his conversations with the boy. his pov is extremely detached, and suspends belief because he seems awfully made up. there’s an edge to the prose in his narration, where you know that something's off, but you can’t exactly pinpoint what.

the third-person pov: the villagers narrate, either as a collective, or as an individual figure, in third person. they take up the other 40% of the story, and there are so many different people and differing opinions with this, and every time we read a third person excerpt it’s a different person, and this is mostly used to add onto the different ways in which the boy is perceived. this is also where the structural part of the form gets really wacky.

STRUCTURE: if my story isn't told in vignettes is it my story though /j. gothm is told in vignettes, each one between 50 to 500 words. the first and second person bits are normal-ish vignettes, with straightforward narration. the third person vignettes, on the other hand, are super assorted. we have a lot of epistolaric sections— there’s a letter, a folk song [which was found around the summer boy], and most of the conversation is told as just plain dialogue without tags. there’s also a phone call transcript, and finally some normal chunks of prose. what am i doing wtf.

also to add onto this the story is told non-linearly. 😀 the only thing that keeps me from going insane is the fact that there are chronological tags before most vignettes [also the manner in which they're tagged differs from pov to pov. for example a few of the third person conversations are marked just as “sunday” or “thursday”, while the summer boy’s narration is marked with the full date and year]

in all this clownery i completely forgot to mention what the tense was [the way everything else was so complicated that i forgot tense was a thing lmao] and good news!! it’s the only sane thing about this story!! it’s told fully in present tense. thank everything.

AN EXCERPT:

okay i’m once again not sharing much because this will be submitted to litmags 🧞

[The boy is scrawny as always. He carries an air of diswant— even death had rejected him when the plague killed only his grandmother— but walks like he doesn’t notice. He smiles at them, jitters, and wipes his hand across his knees. Blood comes away in thin, translucent lines. He saves it on the kerchief he keeps tucked in his shirt, careful to dirty the cloth even more. The villagers scrunch their noses in disgust; who knew how old and rotten the kerchief was, or how long it had carried blood like the unwashed sword of a warrior?]

also by the way this excerpt is in square brackets because it is a third-person interjection in a vignette that is otherwise first-person [at this point...]

SPARE THOUGHTS:

this was inspired by a conversation i had with my grandfather, where he was telling me about how people used to sing songs to the skies, as a way of devotion to a specific god. he used the [loose translation of] the english word “yearning” to refer to the emotion the singers would invoke, and that sparked the concept of a disillusioned young boy who talks to the moon as a way to please the god he’s in love with. it’s a very softly disconcerting story and once again deals with the theme of “perception vs reality” which if you know me and my work, is the theme i’m forever obsessed with.

i really like how this turned out? the atmosphere is exactly how i wanted it to be, and there’s so much i have to add on as i edit and i’m really looking forward to that. this is also the only short story i’ve written where i knew which litmag i’d love for it to be published in? like i never write things with publishing in mind, but for some reason while writing this story it occurred to me that it would be a perfect fit for this specific magazine and i love that. anyway if you’ve made it through the post till here,,,, bless you and your braincells. and that’s all for today!!

[hillbillyoracle]

How Magic Works and Why It’s Important

I realized recently that some people may not understand the main underpinnings of how magic works across different paradigms. The psychological model is so widespread that much of Witchblr seems to think that it is the basis of all magic which brings them into conflict with folks who are working in fundamentally different systems. When the psychological model is taken as the only model, it leads to folks being disrespectful and then reactive when they're told as much. I really hate to keep seeing it happen like this so in an effort smooth out the dialog a little, I thought I'd let people know the lay of the land a little so people know what they're walking into.

Psychological Model

The psychological model posits that magic works by changing our inner world. Some people go so far as to call it a placebo effect. To be clear, this isn't to say that people who hold to a psychological model of magic believe it isn't real necessarily. It's more that that they tend to see the reality of magic is primarily cognitive.

This is quite a bit of mainstream Witchblr. It's also one of the most recent and modern and isn't rooted in many long standing traditions as far as I can tell. Spells for confidence or for self care. Astrology that's primarily focused on explaining your personality. The emphasis on intent alone as what manifests change. All of this is psychological and self oriented in nature.

Spirit Model

The spirit model is one of the oldest models I know of. There are a couple variations and I can't claim to know the finer points of them all. A lot of ceremonial and traditional witchcraft folks fall into this category. It mainly posits that magic works by getting spirits to carry out work for you.

Sometimes this is through offerings, pacts, or worship. Sometimes it's through binding. With many practices in between. Different systems often work with different spirits. Local dead, planetary spirits, angels, saints, spirits of the land - the spirit model posits that they are real and can act on the material and spiritual world.

Belief Model

The belief model posits that our belief in something makes it so. That's an oversimplification but at it's core, that's what it is.

It is distinct from the intent model. The intent model is built more on individual will that doesn't necessarily have a distinct belief accompanying it. This model also isn't psychological. People who use this model aren't saying well I believe it and it changes how I perceive things and that's how I make things work. No, this model says belief warps the fabric of the universe.

As you might have caught on, this is the basis that a lot of chaos magicians work from. Belief isn't simply a conviction in this model, gnosis is key. Gnosis is a type of single pointed concentration  or altered consciousness harnessed through various methods to essentially hack the source code of the universe. The belief model cannot be separated from the concept of gnosis in my book. It's foundational.

Why It Matters

While yes, it's definitely possible for these models to overlap and they aren't inherently incompatible, where I see so many people going sideways is when they assume everyone is working from a psychological model. This is especially bad because many folks are taking the aesthetics of magic born of the spirit or belief models and passing it off as if it is all psychological and then frustrated when those groups both point that out and say it won't work.

Sigil magic is a really good example of this. One thing I was completely stunned by when I came back to Tumblr was how many people believed that just inscribing a sigil on something would be sufficient for change. Sigils are found in both belief oriented systems and spirit oriented systems and how they work is so far beyond what is presented so often. So many writers here argue essentially "it works because I think this is how it should work" - which isn't how any other part of life works as far as I can tell and I don't know why magic would be different. This is where the idea that magic is in the mind conflicts so heavily with these other models.

This is related to the other issue I have with how wide spread the psychological model is it's aversion to proof and reproducibility which are highly valued in spirit and belief systems. I have not talked to any of people who've used sigils with the intent model successfully in a reproducible and externally verifiable way. I'm not saying they're not out there, like maybe it's possible.

But usually when I talk to folks about this, the conversation quickly devolves into validity. "But this is valid" people will say. The problem is each of these models have differing ideas of what valid is. A lot can be valid under the psychological model. But much less is valid in the other models. A wide scope of validity is great at making people feel better about themselves which makes sense for a model so focused on the self as the beginning and end of magic. But a narrow scope is much more effective for folks looking to reliably enact change in the physical world.

And this is such a difficult line to tread because so many people hear that and get defensive. This is where shadow work needs to come into play. People need to really be honest about what they're doing and where they fall in these groups. What are you willing to sacrifice to get what you want? How do you know your spells are working? What role does your ego/narrating self play into your perception of what's possible with magic?

Since I talk a lot about shadow work on this blog, let me leave you with this question in particular. Are you lowering your expectations of what's possible in magic to support your narrative that you are doing magic? I'm not shaming anyone with this. I absolutely was at one point in my life. And that was even after having direct experiences with possession and remote viewing. I lowered my expectation because I wanted to feel like I was good enough. I was good enough as a person, but that didn't make my magic effective. And I could hold both those truths at the same time. I really encourage folks to see what happens in their practice when they explore the same.

Know your model. Know the others. Focus on your craft and your aims.

That's what I try to do anyways.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 4: Love and Forgiveness

Narrated by Lilith.

~Content Warning: suicide, manipulation and abuse

Nightbane: Humans are indeed wonderful beings.

Nightbane: We didn’t need a single soldier to crush your opponents. How beautiful the faces of justice are.

Lilith: Beautiful? I’m worried about your taste in aesthetics.

Narrator: Bits of moonlight leaked through the thick clouds, bringing only a hint of coldness.

Narrator: Outside the palace, the royal capital was enveloped in the faint light of a fire. Various noises and cries broke out one after another.

Narrator: The sight made the devil excited. His eyes were overflowing with greed.

Nightbane: My Lady, can we start hunting their souls now?

Lilith: I’m not as mean as you are.

Narrator: He paused and gave me an evil and obsequious smile.

Nightbane: So, what do you want? My Lady.

Lilith: I want...

Narrator: I looked at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t see my face under this dark cloak, making me no different from the obnoxious guy beside me.

Lilith: I just want everyone’s love.

Choose either “What is love?” or “You probably get enough love as it is...”

If “what,” ...

You: What do you think love is?

Narrator: Candy and hugs... They fill those huge holes in my soul.

If “enough,” ...

You: But you already have a lot of love, don’t you?

Narrator: It’s not enough... I want it all...

--

Narrator: I babbled, reaching out to the mirror like a child expecting candy and affection from loved ones. However, I felt nothing but coldness.

Lilith: Let’s go.

Narrator: The tower’s bell rang. From the speakers, the hymn of the choir and my voice telling bedtime stories to millions of children echoed over the royal city.

Lilith: ...Angels give love to the world, beautiful love.

Narrator: The sound flowed through the dark, dirty alleys. Ragged men were huddling to keep warm. They were black and blue and desperate.

Narrator: A man leaned against the mottled wall, giving off a foul stench.

Narrator: He opened his eyes reluctantly. A tall man dressed as a deacon bent down to look at him carefully.

Man: Who are you? Are you banished here? I haven’t seen you before. You are not a member of our organization.

Deacon: What organization?

Man: Protest... organization.

Deacon: Why are you here?

Narrator: The man looked in pain. He hunched over, buried his head between his knees, and pulled his hair with his fingers.

Man: Because I’m guilty...

Man: I’m blamed for everything. Everyone leaves me! Mother committed suicide and said it was all because of me.

Man: The way they look at me... It’s no different than looking at a beast that has fallen.

Narrator: The man ranted as if no one ever listened to him. The chatter became a cry of anguish deep from within.

Man: Is it my fault? I don’t deserve to stay in Ninir. How can I dislike Queen Lilith?

Man: What kind of evil would denigrate a good angel? I’m indeed a devil, right?

Man: I’m a freaking devil...

Man: They’re right! I’m guilty. My original sin can never be washed away!

Narrator: He looked up and growled, struggling forward, desperately trying to catch something.

Narrator: Then he grabbed my hand.

Narrator: Moonlight stopped hiding behind the dark clouds. The bright glow illuminated my face. The man couldn’t believe his eyes.

Narrator: I wiped the dirt off his face with my hands and soothed him with the gentle voice of someone telling a story to a child.

Lilith: I forgive you.

Lilith: So, please find your happiness.

Man: Ah... oh, my goddess...

Narrator: Warm tears fell onto my fingers. He couldn’t speak. With a shaking grip, he held onto my hands like he was in pious repentance.

Narrator: I smiled.

Lilith: So, will you only like Lilith, forever and ever?

Narrator: The next day, I held a live TV broadcast. Facing the camera, I smiled with obvious sadness for the first time.

Lilith: I hope to bring happiness to Ninir, not fights.

Lilith: The pain suffered by the people who hurt me was more painful than the pain I’ve endured.

Lilith: Forgive them. I’m trying to as well.

Narrator: The speech spread all over Ninir. Everyone remembered the light brought by the angel and fell in love with Lilith.

Narrator: The demon deacon closed the camera. With a smile on his face, he brought me morning tea and cake.

Narrator: I wiped away the tears from my eyes, cut a bit of cake with a delicate spoon, and put it in my mouth.

Lilith: Hmm, how sweet.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

[irenadel]

So I recently read the short story “An Unwilling Apprentice” and found it all sorts of unsatisfying and intriguing, mostly because in canon we are given completely contradictory hints in regards to how old exactly Maul was when Sidious took him and in what circumstances he was taken.

1) Maul seems to remember nothing of Dathomir. True this can happen both if he was taken as a baby too young to remember or by sheer, ornery self-defense against remembering something less shitty that current circumstances.

1) a) Maul’s name: Maul says in Rebels that he used to have a name long ago, that was forgotten, which is just... I’m... it kills me okay? That just outright destroys the fuck out of me. Because it means he’s acknowldging a Dathomir he doesn’t remember, but now knows existed (thanks to Savage and that bitch Talzin, whom I stan), a Time Before Sidious. And also because... I don’t think “Maul” is actually a sithly soubriquet. “Maul” sounds too much like other nightbrother names, which sure, all sound sithly but that’s because Dathomir is neck deep in Dark Side Aesthetics. It’s entirely possible that “Maul” is his actual birth name. Talzin and Savage never call him anything else, though Talzin would have a vested interest in restoring to him any sort of lost name, maybe not in the immadiate aftermath of dragging Maul out of the pit of raving insanity, but at any point afterwards... maybe? a little? Mother Talzin if you named him something less metal please speak up...

2) There is that one depiction of Maul in Son of Dathomir, presumably at the time Sidious just got hold of him.

And like that’s absolutely adorable but he IS too old to not remember anything because of age (then again comic book artists are notorious for drawing weirdly adulty kids), so that means he did not remember because he blocked most of his memories? Well.... my problem with this is that you create a sort of phantom (ha!) preMaul where you have to imagine Maul sans Sidious’s influence and that’s.... strange if you’re not thinking about a baby or a toddler who have just the beginning of a personality. It’s unsatisfactory for me at least, because you strip Maul of all we know of Maul and chase after the shadow of a kid who no longer exists.

3) We have two accounts of how Maul ends up with Sidious, one of them Talzin insisting he was stolen (what does that mean? furtively? or by coercion like Asajj) and the other being Sidious’s account from the comic Son of Dathomir “a not so appreciated gift” or some old sithly nonsense like that. One must consider that both parties are liars, who is the worst liar of the two? who the fuck knows? So it’s entirely possible that both accounts are wrong or one is right or both are bogus.

3) a) Then there’s also that thing where apparently Talzin wanted to be Sidious’s apprentice and like... for what? and how? and why? and how did you think this was gonna come out okay!? You’re already either clan mother or poised to be clan mother, what do you need this shmuck for!? (Wait! did she become clan mother because of what he taught her? Intriguing new possibility) Like with all competent, older dark siders (I see you Dooku) I am always left baffled by how anyone who is both powerful and saavy ever gets roped into siding with Sidious. The dude is like Chronic Backstabbing Disorder: The Movie. There is nothing about him that says Trustworthy... unless he actually has the chance to groom you since childhood. Like I get Maul, Anakin and Ben Solo.... but WTF Dooku and Talzin?! You guys knew better!!!!

3) b) This is happening when Sidious’s own master is still alive right? Whether you take that to be Plagueis or else... So, so, so.... is Sidious hanging around Dathomir to find out a way to kill his own master? Doesn’t he say something along the lines of “I was learning from her when she thought she was learning from me”? I dunno, sounds like a shitty Sidious thing to do.

So all this to say “An Unwilling Apprentice” presents us a scenario where Maul is in Dathomir long enough to be a boy taught by his mother, who is sometimes bullied by other, bigger boys, and old enough to understand fishy things are happening between his mom and the creepy dude (Sidious). And the manipulation is spot on, don’t get me wrong, Sidious does that thing he does with Anakin where he tells Talzin to do horrible things to herself to gain more power and all these things do is drive a wedge between her and her son, all the while he is stoking anger and resentment in Maul, so that when the time comes Maul goes with him willingly even though that was not the deal he and Talzin had struck. So it is true both that this boy is being “stolen” but also given as a sort of gift to Sidious...

It’s just that this author does the thing authors in Star Wars always do, where they ignore previously established canon, because we can’t actually have one coherent galaxy can we? Because... one, Maul is old enough to remember everything... and like okay I can go with him just blocking those memories.... but this also means Maul was taken old enough for Savage to remember and Savage doesn’t seem to in TCW. Let’s grant that Maul is an unreliable narrator who may be supressing memories or lying about how much he remembers.... but SAVAGE doesn’t remember him. How much Savage actually remembers of his brothers and life is also up for debate, given the Dark Side Steroids and brainwashing he underwent, but still.... STILL it seems the only one who fully remembers Maul is Talzin.

But then we have this in “An Unwilling Apprentice”:

“Matters, however, were only to get worse, for later that night, having been hauled from the pit, the boy found himself introduced to those his keeper claimed would become his kin: a tall, wiry boy of a similar age and a stocky, broad shouldered boy at least a year older.

‘These two boys had for too long been starved of the love and attention all children crave, for the keeper was a stern and self-righteous man, and their mother had long before been taken from them to join a mysterious order from which she had never returned. It seemed fitting, then, that the two of them resented the new boy as much as he resented them, for he represented another mouth to feed and another who would vie for the keeper’s scant attention.“

Are the boys bullying Maul, Savage and Feral??? What the hell kind of jump in characterization is this? Because Savage and Feral seem to be adorable bros who just bro around being bros and not harming anyone until Asajj shows up to fuck their whole shit up... And like I get people can change a lot growing up but...... come on, you don’t have time to take me through such a radical change in personality, this is a short story! Or maybe these bullies have nothing to do with his brothers. (There’s another brother mentioned as a “weakling”? Is THAT Savage? But then Savage is definitely Force sensitive and not a weakling.... is it Feral? Why mention weakling brother if we don’t get enough information on him to place him or have him do enough to affect the story? AUGH!)  And there’s the line, “their mother had been taken from them”.... So nightsisters grow up with nightbrothers? What? Is this keeper brother Viscus? What is going on? What insanity is this?

This is what I mean by ignoring canon. Dathomir is presented as a society violently segregated by gender. You never see any young boys with the nightsisters or any young girls with the nightbrother. For all intents and purposes they all live apart until Violent Breeding Ritual of Rapey Undertones ensues. Any story where you want Maul to be raised at least partially by Talzin must account for this segregation and in that sense you don’t actually... need.... the bullies.... they are kind of superfluous.... You have a whole caste system beating down on babyMaul and his mother wanting to keep him besides her. But then once more you have to account for olderMaul remembering nothing of this. Which okay, fair enough, Savage seems not to remember either. Neither of them seem to be scared or even wary of women... though by all means Savage should definitely be....

I just think it was a good plot with a weak setup that ignored a super useful canon setting and does not account for Maul remembering nothing of all of this! 

When considering all of this I wonder if the most interesting explanation is that Maul did spend enough time in Dathomir to remember but he does not from sheer trauma. I think adult Maul seems to depend on Sidious a lot but... he also seems a lot more... I’m not going to say rebellious, but I’ll say “aware” than Anakin. He goes behind Sidious’s back much more than Vader and is way more resentful of his position as a subordinate (and ready to lord his masterdom over Savage as soon as he gets it... but.... harmlessly.....like siths but for babies, babysiths).

Maybe the more interesting view is to think that Maul remembers nothing and it is only upon encountering Savage and Talzin that, little by little, he begins to remember pieces of it. It would explain his sudden loyalty to Talzin. It would explain his desire for a long forgotten name that Sidious never gave him... it would explain... a lot...

[bettsfic]

hi betts! first, thank you for offering so much advice and guidance - you've helped me think about writing in a completely new way. second, a question: i'm pretty good at writing 'interior' action, emotional arcs, internal journeys, etc, but i have very little experience or confidence in 'external' plots. i think a lot of that is growing up writing fanfic, which is usually much more emotion-centric. but as i transition to original fiction i'm really struggling. do you have any advice?

one time i was at brunch with my thesis chair, and conversation lulled a little while we were waiting for our food, and she said, apropos nothing, “you know what sucks? plot. i hate stories with a plot.”

so there are really only two options here: practice plotting until you get comfortable with it, or get so good at interiority that no one even notices there’s no plot.

for example, a major weakness i see in my writing is artful physical description. i’m just not a very textured writer. i spent a lot of time trying to get better at crafting images (and i’m still working on it!), but then i decided for one project to lean the other direction. what would a narrator be like who doesn’t describe jack shit? she wouldn’t be very observant, for one. she’d probably be obsessive and only ever describe the object of her obsession. she’d be very much in her own imagination and inner monologue. and that logic opened a lot of doors for the story, and also freed me of the drive to lovingly describe the way sunlight dapples through eaves or whatever, because this narrator doesn’t care enough to notice. 

i think it’s also an issue of interest. do you want to write plot, or do you feel like you have to? is it fun for you? is practicing plot moving toward your personal aesthetic ideals? if the answer is no, then fuck plot. lean into your strengths and the things that bring you joy. 

what might help is, instead of working on external plots, work with structure instead. play with time and linearity. play with the length of scenes and how they connect together. use the way the story is put together to generate tension. try playing with secrets, too, and their subsequent reveals. focus on character growth and change, and what kinds of things have to happen to incite that growth. work toward epiphanies rather than climaxes. 

and lastly, on a more practical level, try out short form ofic if you haven’t already. how can you get a character from (internal) point A to point B in 5k words or fewer? what has to happen? i think the pressure of word limits can unlock a lot of possibilities in terms of plot, because not a lot can “happen” in that space, and if it does, it needs to go about it in creative ways. i also think it’s a good form for internality, because the stakes don’t have to be high. 

i’ve compiled a folder of my favorite short stories if you’re looking for some inspo! almost none of them have what we would conventionally see as an external plot. my specific recommendations are “florence” by charles yu, “good country people” by flannery o’connor, and “bullet in the brain” by tobias wolff.