#tired of the like 15 track releases

[not-that-kind-of-score]

Other tv show soundtrack albums, take note: The Last of Us has 66 songs on it

[diocletianscabbagefarm]

They released the Arcane S2 act 1 original soundtrack already, and it’s 37 tracks long (for just 3 episodes!!), finally someone who understands all the things a good soundtrack release needs

[breachverse]

Breach: Chicago War Zone - WIP Update 18 - 26th of August 2023

... This one's actually been brewing for 6 months, so... 1 Million Words folks!

Update 21 has been released! Last public upload was pretty much a year ago so, I'm very sorry for the long silence, a lot of the updates have been mostly in the private testing phase on Patreon, but I am here with a bunch of fixes and hangout updates.

But most importantly... We've passed the 1 Million Words mark... My fingers are tired. ❤

You may play it on the link below.

Breach: Chicago War Zone (Updated)

DEVELOPMENT LOG#21 (15-April-2024)

(B2.1.1.24.4.15)

Alpha - 21

Fixed something here, fixed something there, fixed something everywhere

SideModule: Fixed Justin's hangout background

SideModule: Fixed Hayne's hangout background

SideModule: Added Anna's 1st hangout

SideModule: Added Charlie's 1st hangout

SideModule: Added Kaz's 1st hangout

SideModule: Added Carly's 1st hangout

Stats_Page: Added Archangel crew background notes

UniModule: Added 7 new weapons to the shop

MISC: Added AA-12

MISC: Added FAMAS G2

MISC: Added HK G36C

MISC: Added SIG MPX

MISC: Added PP-19 Vityaz

MISC: Added Ultimax 100

MISC: Added SR-25

COMPLETED: Chapter 3 Part 1 of The ARC branch (100%) (PT only) W.I.P.: AA Hangout Part 1 (86%) W.I.P.: AA Store system (85%) W.I.P.: FBI Hangout Part 1 (46%) W.I.P.: FBI Store system (65%) W.I.P.: Stat screen upgrade (40%) Word Count: 1,007,622 words including codes (Last update was 971,142)

I'll be completely honest, when I started Breach 2 I knew it was going to surpass 1 million words. I just didn't think it would take this long. Through numerous challenges, both in writing and in real life. Through numerous ups and downs, I'm absolutely surprised and grateful to know that there are people out there who still support me. I've had many thoughts, numerous times, to give up and move on to other things in life, but I didn't want to disappoint, so I kept writing.

I bring to you, the 1 million milestone update. It's really not much, but it is one step closer to completion. This update has been in the works for the past 6 months mostly due to the weapons rework and also story changes for the crew members that I apparently couldn't keep track of without a giant excel spreadsheet. This update finalizes the Archangel's Gamma Crew hangouts, which is Kaz and Carly's hangout as well as Anna and Charlie's hangout.

As before, they share the same storyline so they will both share the same hangout. If you choose to go out with one, you cannot go out with the other. Kaz shares it with Carly, and Anna shares it with Charlie. Keep that in mind. Oh, and there's 7 new guns to play with. Have fun, Ian.

This update does not include the new Chapters. Chapter 3 will still be Patreon exclusive until Breach 2 finishes and I can send the demo to the public testing, and to CoG for the full release.

I really cannot reiterate how grateful I am to have an amazing array of readers and supporters who are still here after numerous hiccups and fuck ups. Thank you all, so very much.

Much, much love. - Max ❤

Link to the CoG Forums

I also have a Discord server!

As always feel free to drop however many screenshot feedbacks you'd like, either in the forums or in our Discord channel!

[luimagines]

Since requests are open... may we perhaps have the Chain with an SO who's really into astronomy and space? Just the biggest star and planet nerd to ever walk Hyrule.

(Totally not inspired by my own geeking out over how gorgeous the night sky is in TOTK, nope, not at all).

I'm going to have to do some research for this one. ^.^* But I'll do it for you, Nordic!!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

The ship rocked softly back and forth on the seas, cradling the sleeping heroes as the moon gently draped the bedazzled sky with it's softer toned light.

Wind was still awake, as were you. Both of you were trying to keep the course of the ship on the right track.

Your lantern light was the closest thing you had for a light source to look at your maps and charts. You consider yourself lucky to have this on hand. Only Wind seemed as well versed in the stars as you were, hence the agreed upon decision to leave you both to your devices while everyone else went to sleep in the hammocks the small ship provided.

Wind was silent as he stood by the wheel.

You mapped out the course for the next island you were to make land, following your previous notes and comparing them to a map you had purchased before you had set sail.

A short sigh escaped your lips as you started to pack up. You couldn't keep doing this. Your eyes were strained and the moon made it difficult to see the needed stars for you figure out if you were going the right direction. You'll give it an hour or two- let the moon move further across the night sky and then start recharting what you needed.

"Going to bed?" Wind asked quietly.

You shook your head. "I'm tired, but I'm not going to leave you alone just yet."

An bitter chuckle tumbled from your lips as you stretched. Your spine and ribs popped and cracked from the needed release of strain. You saw Wind flinch but ignored it.

"If only it wasn't the full moon tonight. It would make this a lot easier."

"I can't even see the Farore Constellation." Wind sighed in despondent agreement. "I know these stars... but we're technically sailing over an island right now, so I doubt I'd actually be of much use as a navigator."

You snort. "That's why I'm up with you and not sleeping in the hull of the ship with the other guys."

There's no other sounds afterwards. There's a moment of stillness, save for the callings of the wind and the waves in their frequent call and response symphony.

"I've actually never been on a ship before." You admit, breaking the moment.

Wind jolts, almost as if he was startled awake. He tilts his head with a cheeky smile growing on his face. "Really? You're a natural at navigating. I never would have guessed."

That sets your frustrations at ease for a bit. You sit down against the railing, turning your body to talk to more experience sailor. "I just like looking at the stars for fun."

"Fun?" Wind gets a credulous look as he giggles. "I just knew the stories I was told as a kid. But I wouldn't say that comparing them to maps was fun."

"I know the stories too, sir and it's fun for me." You rolls your eyes playfully. "It just means we make a good team. I wouldn't be able to steer the ship for the life of me."

"You literally just turn the wheel left or right."

"I'd steer us right into a cliff face."

Wind giggles again.

"You actually know what you're doing but I actually know where we're going." You grin. "It works out."

"I guess so." Wind shrugs. "Better us than any of the others guys."

"They'd capsize the ship."

"Don't joke like that. Bad luck."

You smile. You don't necessarily believe in luck, but you've heard sailors to be the suspicious sort. You'll let him have this. "I retract my statement then. How far along are we following The Star of Demise?"

"About 15 knots, why?"

"Change coarse to sail towards Nayru's Trident." You grin. "We'll hit land fall by morning."

"Perfect."

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 15 “I’m fine.” | No. 17 “Leave me alone.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (platonic, pre-relationship)

Setting: Post Prison/Pre Alexandria

Warnings: Animal bite, Injury, Illness, TWD Violence

“Thanks,” you muttered while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You extended the bottle out to Glenn but he shook his head. 

“Try to get Daryl to drink when he gets back.” You cast him a curious look but he only smiled and shuffled forward to catch up with Maggie. 

The sun was beating down violently on your little group, no reprieve from the clutches of its heat. Just like yesterday. Just like the day before. The bushes rustled to your left, but you were too weary to be afraid. You simply rolled your head toward the sound and watched Daryl emerge from the foliage. You gave him a quick once over as he fell in stride beside you but saw no injuries and also no kill to call dinner. 

“You okay?” You offered the water bottle, but he pushed it back to you. 

“M’fine.”

“I haven’t seen you take a single sip in two days, Daryl.” You were trying to scold but your voice only sounded dry and tired. 

“You need it. Lil Asskicker needs it.” Right on cue, the baby on Carl’s back began to fuss. You glanced behind you where Sasha and Michonne were bringing up the rear. The group of walkers were still a ways back but if you stopped, it wouldn’t take them long to catch up. 

Your attention was brought back to Daryl when he stumbled, hissing through his teeth before getting his balance. You said nothing but watched him carefully. He was slightly favoring his right leg. While you could see no blood, you did notice that the red rag that usually hung from his back pocket was wrapped around his shin, just above his boot. 

“Daryl.” You called to him carefully when he looked up from his feet and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. He grunted in reply, and his gaze dropped again. “Are you hurt?” He grunted again. “That’s not an answer.”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it.” The archer looked over at you, one eye closed and the other squinted. “Ain’t a big deal.” 

Before you could press him on it, Rick called out for everyone to stop at a bridge. It was time to handle the walkers. 

It didn’t take long. Not a single person was injured and you were back on the road. Daryl was in front of you now, and you were watching him like a hawk. Other than a slight limp, he seemed okay. No better or worse than anyone else right now. 

The group had stopped to rest once the scorching sun had lowered, and Daryl had disappeared to hunt. With a nod to Carol, you ducked away past the bushes to join him. You weren’t great at tracking but he hadn’t been gone long and you had learned a thing or two from him. 

It didn’t take you long to spot him. There was a small cabin that looked like it had been abandoned since before the dead rose. Daryl was standing next to a tree close to the structure, leaning his shoulder against it. You smiled, and quickened your pace until you noticed his crossbow was on the ground at his feet. His right boot wasn’t touching the ground, and he was bent at the waist with his eyes screwed shut and teeth clenched. 

“Daryl?” You called out but he didn’t respond. He was sweating and pale, and as you neared, the smell of sick lingered in the air. “Hey, are you okay?” You placed your hand on his bicep once you were close enough. The archer reacted violently, catching your wrist and slamming your back against the tree with his hunting knife at your throat. Had he really not heard you approaching? His breaths came hard and fast. Those pretty blue eyes of his were filled with pain and anger. “It’s me, Daryl.” 

You watched recognition set in, and he released you with a huff. “The hell ya followin’ me fer?” You let your gaze follow him as he replaced his knife and reached for the crossbow. On the ground, near the weapon, was a puddle of vomit. Your eyes narrowed. 

“Daryl, what’s wrong with you?” You pushed away from the tree and jogged to cut him off. “Really.”

“Leave me ‘lone!” He made to go around you, but you moved to stay in his path. 

“You sick?” He tried the other way with the same results. “Hurt?” He growled deep in his throat, closing his eyes in what appeared to be restraint. You weren’t sure that was really the case. 

“Jus’ lay off, would ya?” He snapped harshly. You reeled, face contorting in anger, but just as you opened your mouth, Daryl’s eyes widened. He listed to the side, crashing hard onto his left knee and began to retch violently. With nothing in his stomach, he only managed to bring up a small amount of bile throughout the ordeal. 

“Daryl!” You grabbed hold of his shoulders just in time to stop him from keeling over into the mess. Falling back onto your ass, you managed to pull the man up against your stomach. He was panting with his eyes screwed shut. “Daryl, what’s going on? The truth.”

It took a moment but the archer finally managed to open one eye and seemed to study you before you felt him simply deflate in your hold. “Snake bit.” You quickly glanced at that old rag around his lower leg. 

“You moron, that’s serious! You could die!” Your hand connected roughly with the front of his shoulder but then held him fast where he was when he tried to struggle away. 

“Ain’t gon’ die. S’jus’ a copperhead.” He tried to sit up again and this time you let him. He nodded gratefully once he was shoulder to shoulder with you. “Got bit ‘fore, when I’s ‘bout 10. It won’ kill me but it’ll suck fer a day or two.”

You stared at him, not sure what you were feeling. You were angry that he had hidden this from the group, from you. You were worried that he was or would become dehydrated or the wound would be infected, both were very likely and equally as dangerous. You were sad that he would rather suffer alone than worry anyone even when he was in such a state. 

“Quit starin’ at me like tha’. Told ya, I’ll be fine.”

You nodded, looking down at your boots. You had to think of something. Daryl simply couldn’t keep going like this, disappearing ‘in search of water and food’ when he really just needed a break. You glanced at him again, leaning back on his hands with his head tilted toward the sky. His expression was riddled with pain, even though he was trying not to show it. You knew better. 

Over his shoulder, you saw the little cabin. It wasn’t the ideal solution but maybe one you could make work. “You cleared that yet?”

Daryl followed your gaze and shook his head. “Nah. Didn’ have a chance ‘fore my stomach crawled outta my throat.”

“Wait here.” 

“The hell ya doin’, Y/N?”

You pulled your knife from the sheath on your thigh and marched toward the structure. “Solving a couple of problems.”

The cabin had been blessedly void of walkers. It was small but large enough to shelter your family from the sun for at least a day or two. It was easy enough to talk Rick into stopping the fruitless march toward nothing. At least the group could stay put while you took care of Daryl, under the guise of being out for the night to hunt. 

He had been surprisingly pliant when you dragged him away. Finding a spot to camp for the night was simple. Far enough away for members not to venture in search of you, yet close enough to run for help if things got worse. You had taken all of the water that could be spared, leaving enough for the proper care of Judith and Carl. You hated leaving so little for the adults, but Daryl would surely die without it, closer than anyone to dehydration with the excess sweating and vomiting. 

You sat next to his outstretched leg, carefully pouring the smallest amount of water over the two punctures he had finally let you take a look at. Just to the right of his shin, the wound was swollen and angry, more in thanks to the venom than to infection. If you could manage to keep it clean, you could probably avoid that. 

You taped a square of gauze over the bite, thankful that you had at least that in your own bag. Keeping it covered was best for the time being. It could get air when the venom wasn’t doing a number on the archer. 

You worried about tissue damage, but that was a bridge you’d have to cross when you came to it. For now, keeping him alive was the most important thing. 

“Drink.” You titled the canteen against his lips, holding fast to his chin with the other hand when he tried to turn away. 

“The kid—”

“Has enough. I promise. I wouldn’t have taken it if it meant she or Carl had to do without.” He seemed to accept that, parting his lips for the smallest of swallows. You wished you had more and didn’t have to be so greedy with each offering. He had taken the ibuprofen you had managed to nab out of Michonne’s bag. That should provide a bit of relief from the pain while aiding in the reduction of the inflammation. It wasn’t much but it would have to do. 

“You should get some rest.” You placed your back against the tree, shoulder to shoulder with him. He didn’t look very comfortable but it wasn’t unlike Daryl to sleep sitting up. Sometimes, you think he preferred it. Regardless, he was sick and in pain, so you tried to make him as comfortable as possible. “Why don’t you lay on my lap?”

Daryl opened one eye and rolled his head toward you, blinking away the sweat that burned and obstructed his vision. You thought he might argue or turn you down flat, but he instead shifted with a groan and pillowed his head on your thighs. A true testament to how horrible he was feeling. 

“Better?” You questioned quietly, running your fingers through his damp hair. He hummed, his eyes once again closed. You could see the way they pinched at the outer corners and wished you could do something more for the pain. He’d been bitten while trying to find food and water for your group; trying to take care of everyone else. Always putting himself last. 

There was a content sigh that brought you from your thoughts. You hadn’t realized that you had begun to scratch and knead his scalp, but the way he seemed to melt against you ensured that you continued. His shallow breaths evened out and deepened after a few more moments, an indicator that he was finally giving his body the rest it so desperately needed. 

He would be okay. You knew that now. But if you could offer him some comfort and peace for just one night, you’d massage his scalp until your fingers bled. Daryl, rough around the edges and tough as nails, would bend over backwards to ensure the safety of each one of you. Anyone in the group would do the same for him if he’d allow it. But he didn’t. He chose to suffer in silence until you stumbled across him and forced his hand. 

But he’d allowed you into his space and trusted you enough to fall into a deep, healing sleep while you watched over him. He would be safe and cared for, and you’d make sure he knew that he could depend on this— on you — and drop his walls. He could let you in and be vulnerable. 

You’d be damned if you’d take that for granted. 

[nieded]

what are Ezira and AJ like on a long road trip? Which car from their garage would they take? What snacks do they bring? Which one gets pulled over for going eighty in a thirty?

aj and ezira did go on a road trip across california when they were first starting out as a couple! though of course, it would have taken a lot of work to import a car to the states, and so they had a rental. if they could have taken one of their cars, they would have settled on the la ferrari, which could handle the switchbacks of the serria nevada.

maybe someday they will take the road trip that newt and ligur talked about from montpellier to cologne.

the actual reality is that they would take the gti, if they had a choice from their own garage. hypercars are notoriously unreliable. they are not meant for road trips. they aren't really meant to be driven, honestly. replacing brakes on a la ferrari (which is a common maintenance item!!!) costs 40k. the SO works next door to an italian repair shop that exclusively does ferraris, lambos, alfas, and fiats. they have had a lamborghini aventador sitting in the shop for months because it requires a new set of special tires, which they only release every couple of years. so it's just waiting for a random shipment that may or may not come in the next year. the lifespan on hypercars for maintenance items like oil changes and brakes are much much shorter than the average car.

also, where would their luggage go? they will definitely need boot space. crowley's a pain to fly with because he always has extra luggage for stuff: skincare, haircare, nail polish, nail polish remover, extra hats that he will not wear, extra shoes that he will also not wear, but he has them just in case they do the beach or a hike. (and still, he wears his boots.) chargers for his electronics and back up batteries just in case. and weed. road trips are excellent when transporting the goods.

but crowley has no opinion on snacks. thankfully, ezira has all the opinions on snacks. healthy choices such as snacking peppers and carrots and seaweed chips to just cake. lots of biscuits. he has a kettle in the back so they can make periodic petrol stops to boil hot water. and should they stop and pick up more ice for the cooler? just in case? and in the end, they only eat half of it because every four hours, he's on google maps researching local restaurants and cafes for nibbles.

and realistically, neither of them will get pulled over for speeding, but if one of them had to, it'd be crowley. ezira hates driving around civilians. it's much safer to be going 190 on a race track. but average joes are unpredictable. get off your phone! use the indicator (to the beemer, i'm looking at you). oops you missed your exit and are now crossing six lanes of interstate... everybody's out here being lance stroll. ezira absolutely hates it, and if you spend 15 minutes on r/idiotsincars, you will too. there's very little ezira sticks his nose up at, but civilians. *shudders*

but they wouldn't drive over the speed limit, not too much. that's for work. crowley will take it slow through the alps so ezira can take pictures of the clear blue lakes and snow-capped mountains. they'll take turns with the bluetooth, donna summer and pink floyd for crowley, abba and death cab for ezira, and they'll talk about the race season and the spots they want to revisit in america and italy and japan. they'll wonder what ceres has destroyed at marnie and lili's and what the nibling is up to. if she's crawling yet because that means she's almost walking and if she's running they can stick her in a go kart.

but the silence would be good too at night, windows down, one of crowley's feet out the window when it's ezira's turn to drive (less people, more deer, but he will take his chances). and they'll stop on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere between two cities and look up and up and up at the sky, stars twinkling above. and crowley will think about how he's crossed finish lines filled with fireworks, stood on the platform in monza once upon a time when the tifosi flooded the track, sat in the cockpits of wheeled rocketships, unbelievable feats of engineering from mankind, and think nothing could compare to the darkest night in the quiet with his beloved.

it's not about going fast. it's about drawing it out, sitting in the cabin with each other and no one else, as if they could sneak one more minute, one more hour together before they're pulled across the globe in opposite directions. they love it. they love the racing and the adrenaline and the fireworks (but not the jet lag and missed calls and wondering if the other is sleeping ok). they love that feeling of peeling their racing gloves off after hours of sweating and swearing, the long drink of water after a long drive. but. but they love each other more.

[suspiciouslyglowingmoss]

Journal No. 7

October 15, 1884

The sky was placid this morning, clouds obscuring the heavens in every direction the eye could see. Days like this never fail to raise my pulse, so there was no doubt in my mind that I would head to my destination with haste. Quickly, I retrieved my coat and headed out into the brisk fall air.

The morning was rare and a regret to ignore, rays of sunlight emerging from the choking clouds in the manner of a renowned painting, a breathtaking poem. The chilly atmosphere inflicted bumps on the skin, bringing an eerie suspicion to the tips of the fingers, easily accessible and conveniently overlooked. The trees seemed to understand the meaning in the obscured sun, shaking slightly, as if in fear. The sky tasted of unpleasant secrets. It was a pity I had no time to spare- the evil nature of the morning was grievously unsavoury.

With a vigorous pace, I went about my day as usual, wasting my time on aimless lessons that have little influence on my future. The lectures in English are redundant, much too tedious for a class that already speaks the language. However, I appreciate the intimacy this class has with the morning- it’s too good of an opportunity for rest to pass up. I’m not one with a steady sleep schedule, as merely blinking while I work underneath the moonlight takes up my desirable performance hours.

Prof. Smith doesn’t seem to enjoy my presence, much to the dismay of my marks. I couldn’t imagine why. The school couldn’t afford to lose me and the funding my father provides. It’s no matter. My essay scores play no part in determining the grandeur of my research.

Nor do my chemistry marks, it seems.

Advancing towards the chemistry lab, a peculiar feeling bore into my back, similar to that of a burning gaze. I turned swiftly on my heel, taking a moment out of my already employed day to survey the fiend behind me.

To the eyes, the weaker sense, it would seem as though there was nothing but empty air. The rustling of a bush, however, told my ears quite a different story. I ran the rest of the way to the lab, feeling as though my heart would fall out of my chest after the mere first few steps. Imbeciles and deniers alike giggled as I went, but they know not the failures of the pupil, the lies concealed by an autumn breeze.

Stepping into the lab, I barricaded the door behind me out of fear that the daemon had traced my steps. I then continued my day as usual, determined to stay on track with my research. After a rude interruption from my irate peers a few breaths later, then from my professor who had quickly grown tired of me only two days into the school year, and then multiple lectures on the appropriate times to lock doors, I had realized that my schedule had been thrown much too far off course and I would have to pine tediously over my lost hours for the rest of the day.

These are the sort of people I am trapped with every hour of every day. I have learned to blind myself to their ignorance, but their intrusions cannot be forgiven. It is not my fault that my peers are as uneducated as they are, yet I still have to put up with their idiocy day after day without reprieve. I can look back on my first day in my chemistry class clearly. I was overqualified for the lesson while everyone else’s intelligence lacked sorely- a bruise on the ego of the class. I had already taught myself the lesson time and time again, using the material as a basis for my own personal experiments. I brought it up to the teacher, asking if there was any way I could engage myself in a different way, imploring for new tasks. I would hate to bore myself in a class with such invigorating potential, I told him.

His anger was unexpected and entirely unwelcome. Prof. Taylor swelled, face turning a shade darker than that of the skin of a tomato. His eyes gleamed, as if he’d been expectant, waiting for this moment, coiled like a spring in anticipation of his indignation’s release.

“Do you think you’re above the rest of the class, boy?” I detest the way he refers to me as if I’m beneath him, using that idiotic tone and asinine sobriquet to push me into a smaller box than I will fit. His voice was ugly, sharp, but I paid it no mind. This question was familiar, and it no longer carried the humiliation that was intended. I looked him in the eye evenly, taking pride in my composure, amused by the lack of his.

“Of course not, sir. I only implore you for different material, as I have been comfortable with this for some time now. I wish to learn, not to disinterest myself.”

He did not take to this statement kindly, and I shall suffer from the results of his anger until I graduate from this hostile environment. My papers bleed red ink, weeping tears of annoyance for my curiosity. But I could not care less about how my teacher and peers view me- my image is nothing, means nothing. Reputations shouldn’t be so highly regarded- I get along fine on my own.

As long as I know that what I’m doing is right, I shouldn’t concern myself with the views of others. They will figure it out eventually. One day, regret will be abundant, and I will have forgotten their names.

OK HERE IT IS WHEEEEEEE

Hey bestie, guess what

I never deleted this, it's been sitting in my box for...

A long-ass time

(Nearly two years!)

[traineecryptid]

NPSS Weibo Q&A (20240831) Part 3

This is a Q&A session held on Weibo. People will tag their questions with the hashtag #南派三叔藏海花在线答疑# (#NPSS Zang Hai Hua Online Q&A#) and NPSS will look through the tag to pick some to answer. The event started at 1500 hours on 2024 August 31st.

Folder with screenshots and big compilation google doc is here. Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here.

1554

Q: Shu, you and Xu Lei and Nanpai Sanshu living well together is more important than anything. This is the real Iron Triangle. 

A: I can act in three roles from Identity V by myself, right?

1555

Q: When will Flowery Night be released? Actually movies aren’t a bad choice. What do you think, Sanshu? (but please choose Ji2 please)

A: I will work hard to do movies!

1555

Q: It’s really too hard to say goodbye. I want to ask what do you think about saying goodbye? A: I never say goodbye, only ever die suddenly.

1556

Q: Shu, have you thought about going on variety shows? I feel like your recent mental state is very suitable to say something [at variety shows].

A: Heh heh heh heh, no one will invite me.

1557

Q: Have you seen the Yucun play? A: I’ll go see it in a few days.

1559

Q: I want to know what the others [in the tomb raiding circle] think about “because of Wu Xie, the worth of Zhangs rose”.

A: Just like in the entertainment industry. They think guzhuang idol dramas could make people famous, so they all went to act in guzhuang idol dramas. 

1559

Q: I feel like Sanshu is replying rather quickly. You're answering questions everyday. Last time it was Douyin, now it’s Weibo. I’d say that all the sets in ZHH are all pretty good! I’m awed. I could tell that there’s heart in them. But that transition from young Wu Xie into Wu Xie a few years later shocked me. I was just telling my sister that this young Wu Xie is so handsome and just as I finished talking, the person changed. How did you come up with the idea to make Wu Laogou play Wu Xie? A: Maybe this represents a sort of heart demon. (T/N: heart demon is like an obsession, something that bothers a person a lot and they would always circle back on it and it would affect everything they do etc.)

1559

Q: Is the beginning of Flowery Night them going to Iceland together? Will there be clues about the brass box there?

A: There will be.

1601

Q: (T/N: original question was deleted but according to the comments…) Will you act as Wu Xie in a drama?

A: For you, I will surely do it.

1601

Q: Shu, did you know that Qin Hao laoshi’s profile pic is still Sha Hai Wu Xie!!!! If you don’t answer me, I will A: I know. I’m teary eyed.

1602

Q: Shu, ZHH is really not bad! Are you happy with the current data and reviews?

A: I’m really quite happy. So this is how it feels to have a good response. I’ve grown numb after being scolded for the past ten years. I’ve forgotten this feeling.

1603

Q: Shu, which scene in ZHH left the deepest impression on you?

A: Three days of silence.

1604

Q: Sanshu, are you still writing the 2nd ZHH novel? Which novel are you updating now?

A: I haven’t turned around yet. (T/N: this probably means that he hasn’t managed to switch tracks from working on other things back to working on writing yet)

1606

Q: Shu, what do you do when you hit a plateau? Would you lose sleep? Or would you imagine what Wu Xie and the others are doing?

A: I don’t hit plateaus. I’m just lazy, lacking self control and cowardly, and I like to procrastinate and run away from reality. Although I have a lot of weaknesses, I’m greedy at the same time. Sigh.

1608

Q: Shu, I want to know what else left a deep impression on Wu Laoban when he was in Tibet. A: The dry toilet on the cliff. (T/N: reference below)

Another 15! Some shorter questions this time. And part 1 to part 3 covers the first hour of Q&A and some change. Good news is that NPSS's pace is still slow for now and I'm slowly catching up. I do have a few more posts worth, but I figured that I should space them out so we don't get tired of them.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Rachel Connolly:

Earlier this year, I had a bout of what my friends and I term “mental health”. I was always tired. I couldn’t concentrate. I felt burnt out by the volume of communication that social media facilitates. I am 31 and, like many people my age, I’m in multiple group chats on WhatsApp and often find myself added to new ones. I use Instagram to post work and selfies, and to chat with people via the DM function. I use X similarly. (I’m too old for TikTok.) I enjoy some of this. I like talking nonsense with my friends. But I’d started to question how deliberate much of it was. I’d find myself posting a picture of a book I was reading and think, why do I need an audience to read? I began to wonder if, in the cycle of curating, recording and publicising our lives on social media, the things we do that are not seen and affirmed by people online feel somehow less “real”. My work as a writer means I probably get more online communication than the average person. Last year I published my first novel, and I have since noticed the slightly strange way that novels are discussed online. I get tagged in Instagram posts saying that my book is about a messy girl, a sad girl, a distant girl or a cold girl. There is an algorithmic basis to this. The easiest way to attract attention on social media is to talk about a trend everyone else is talking about, or to slot whatever you’re talking about into one of these trends.

So everywhere you look it is Brat summers or trad wives, cottage-core or bloke-core, high-functioning anxiety, parentified children or whatever happens to be the latest term for pathologising your life experience. Everything is flattened, simplified. I worried that being immersed in it was making me think this way too. A friend recently got a “dumb” phone, a Nokia 3210, to use when she’s out of the house. She leaves her smartphone at home like a landline. It has made her happier, she says. I needed a break too, but I was drawn to the idea of spending some time cut off from all communication. A reset, of sorts. I found a weekend-long silent retreat, no phones allowed, and booked myself in. My craving for a break is not uncommon. Social media is such a constant background presence in our lives that it’s easy to forget how recent it is. Facebook, which feels impossibly passé, is only 20. Instagram is not yet 15. Researchers first used the term “digital detox”, to refer to a period of abstention from phones and laptops, in 2012, around the same time that social media was really taking off (chat rooms had been around since the turn of the 1990s without the concept surfacing).

Digital detoxes remained unusual for a time. In 2015, Essena O’Neill, an Australian influencer with 612,000 Instagram followers, made news around the world when she released a statement about quitting the platform. Today, similar moves by celebrities are so common they barely make headlines. Billie Eilish deleted all social media apps from her phone. Actress Tavi Gevinson wrote about using an assistant to manage her Instagram. It has been hard to keep track of the number of times Stephen Fry has quit and rejoined Twitter over the years. These dramatic exits can seem amusing, especially when they’re followed by sheepish returns, but mostly they underscore how addictive and overwhelming social media can be. My silent retreat took place in a large house in rural Devon. I arrived on Friday, one of a group of about 50. We were allowed to speak during registration and, because I had gone there determined not to use reductive labels, I could already sense myself reaching for them. A young man told me he had done several silent retreats before. Ah, I thought, so you’re the type of person who does these often. Then I caught myself. What type would that be?

During the first meditation session, our instructors explained that we would sit and try to embody, rather than think about, the question “What is this?” This distinction struck me as confusing to the point of meaninglessness. But they explained that one way of attempting “not to think” about the question was to resist the urge to answer it. They encouraged us to focus instead on how we felt, on the physical sensations in our bodies. If you have never tried this, I will say that it is extremely difficult. We sat cross-legged for 30 minutes. I stared at a wall. Then we walked in a circle for 10 minutes. Then we sat down again, and so on, for about two hours. Then it was bedtime. I enjoyed the communality of me and the other girls silently working through our evening routines together. I realised that I had never decided to bring my phone everywhere, like an appendage to my body

The next two days were structured around meditation and chores. At 6.30am we were woken by a bell. We did two hours of meditation, after which we had breakfast. Then a break, followed by another two hours of meditation and lunch. My chore was washing up after we ate. Then more meditation, dinner, another break, meditation, bed. If sitting in an uncomfortable position and staring at a wall while trying not to think sounds impossibly boring, I would say it is not so different from the way my days would unfold when I worked in offices, traipsing from my desk to the tea station and back. More earnestly, I would say I could not have imagined how much I would enjoy the retreat, or how much I’d get out of it. Over the weekend, one of the instructors spoke about trying to be more conscious of the labels we put on our experiences and interactions. It struck me that a similar fatigue with the overload of digital communication is probably what draws a lot of people to try a silent retreat. We were all the type of person who is fed up with “types of people”.

On my first morning after breakfast, I went outside. The countryside seemed fantastically vivid. The blackbirds looked as beautiful as anything I had seen before. I watched one, like a dash of ink, flickering against the mottled grey sky, then two sailing as a pair, in tune with each other. I watched a cloud of them, pulsing. It reminded me of a jellyfish. Back inside, from my seat in the meditation room, I could see a tree that the birds would visit. When I was frustrated with the way my thoughts rattled around my head, reviewing unsaid rebuttals to months-old arguments, I watched the birds and imagined the paths they were taking in the world. One of my issues with the task “embody but try not to think” is that the semantic distinction between thinking and feeling is hard to grasp. If you notice that you feel happy or sad, is that a thought? Or a feeling? I found animals a useful framework to try to understand the distinction, as they negotiate the world using senses. A bird might fly north because of an environmental cue, but it does not say to itself in words, “I want to fly north.” I came to understand the task not as emptying your head of thoughts, but rather resisting the tendency to narrate things to yourself in words. I noticed that this interior monologuing would lead me along familiar, superficial trains of thought, to recent memories associated with certain feelings, say, and soon enough back to mundane anxieties.

At night, I would sit outside and look at the stars. The clouds, invisible in the darkness, shifted to expose one patch of stars, then another, making it look like the sky itself was swelling and shrinking. Memories and ideas still came to me, but deeper, more interesting ones than before. It was as if I had cleared the way for them. I remembered that I used to look at the stars when I was a teenager. I used to read about how they’re born, how they sustain themselves, why we see only some of them, how they die. On Monday morning at breakfast, we were allowed to speak again. Some participants had found the weekend hard, they said. One person had cried repeatedly. Others said that eating in silence had made them feel as though everyone was being cold towards them. As they talked, I remembered old corporate jobs where I was always the office loser. People could sense the aura of failure emanating from me, so I would eat lunch by myself, in silence. I got used to it. I didn’t feel I was learning anything valuable at the time, but life can surprise you. Sticking out is not so bad, I realised. This is the message of most children’s books, but one it’s easy to lose sight of as an adult. Other people’s perceptions of you, real or imagined, don’t have to influence how you see yourself. Social media is designed to erase this perspective. Much of the anxiety it fosters comes from forcing you to see yourself, constantly, as relative to others.

[onboardsorasora]

Tennis AU! I haven't edited this, so I hope it makes sense lol.

Part 1 | Part 15 | Part 17

Part 16

Daniel’s eyes fluttered open at the feeling of lips on his forehead, he couldn’t stop the soft smile that breached his lips even if he wanted to. Max was smiling down from above him, sun bleached blonde hair mussed from sleep, a few errant locks falling forward. He looked so soft and sweet and Daniel couldn’t help but lean forward for a proper kiss.

It was early, he knew. But Max had warned him that he would have had an earlier start today– it being his home race in Holland. Since he landed literally last night, Daniel was going to sleep in some more and come to the track closer to the afternoon race time.

“Go back to sleep.” Max whispered, his lisp a little more pronounced in the morning.

“Mmm love you.” Daniel mumbled into the sheets, missing but knowing that Max’s eyes crinkled in his smile.

“I love you too.” Then Max was clambering off the bed, Daniel peaked a honey brown eye to watch his boyfriend’s perfect ass and broad back walk across the room and into the adjoining bathroom.

It’s been a whirlwind 24 hours. This time yesterday, he was pacing around his hotel room, stomach in knots at the final. Max was on facetime rolling his baby blues and reminding him that he was going to win– in no uncertain terms. 

Well, after that, he just had to prove him right. And Daniel won. A second Wimbledon trophy for his cabinet and another slam for his stats. 

Stretching a little under the covers; which didn’t at all let in any cold outside air in his fluffy cocoon– Max was literally so perfect. Daniel looked around for his actual trophy. They one he clutched the whole plane ride and only let go once Max was pulling him in closer. 

He hadn’t wanted anything to come between him and the perfect plains of Max’s chest. Did he mention that Max was perfect? All broad shoulders and freckles. Strong strong muscles covered in a softness that meant he gave the most perfect hugs and could hold Daniel down.

Finding his quarry, he reached out of his blanket burrito and grabbed the cool metal. He shivered but still brought it under the sheets. Thankfully it didn’t take too long for the silver to warm up and he happily spooned and snuggled it in the middle of the bed. This was something he did when he had won in ‘18, in his emotional and physical exhaustion he had snuggled with the cup and promptly fell asleep. Blake had taken a picture– because of course he did– and he’d woken up to all sorts of teasing and memes the next day.

Last night he had something quite nicer to snuggle with, but this felt like a tradition at this point.

When Max left the bathroom with a towel around his waist and water dripping from his hair, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Padding to his side table, he grabbed up his phone and took as many photos as he dared. Daniel looked adorable– his mouth open and drooling on his pillow, clutching his trophy.

Max couldn’t blame him. Not when he slept with his first WDC trophy in his bed for three nights because he simply couldn’t believe it.

Sending the cutest picture to Blake, he went about dressing for the day ahead. If all goes to plan, he’ll have his own trophy tonight and then they would probably lay them in the center of the bed like babies. 

Shaking his head to release that thought, Max leaned over and kissed Daniel’s forehead once more, smiling when the tired man snuggled deeper in sleep.

When Daniel woke up at a more reasonable time (to him); his phone was blowing up. Curious, he blearily looked at all of his notifications. There were a few from his family, individually and from their family group chat. There was a tonne from his friends, but the majority were from social media. 

Warily opening instagram, he scrolled through his DMs seeing various reactions to a picture he posted. 

“Kinda delayed I guess?” He muttered. He’d posted a picture from the plane last night, a different version of the (pg) selfie he sent Max. Opening the message from Scotty, he couldn’t say he recognised the photo the other Aussie was reacting to. 

Waking up to a tonne of notifications wasn’t wildly out of the ordinary; Blake posted from Daniel’s verified accounts all the time. From sponsored posts to any sort of teasers from brand deals. He didn’t recall anything on the schedule but clicked the picture anyway.

His own sleepy face clutching his trophy like a baby stared back at him. The familiar hotel room was what told him that this was a recent picture and not a throwback to 2018.

“What the fuck?” Going back to his messages the two at the top of the pile offered some form of explanation.

Maxy Baby 🥵 ‘I had no clue he would post it. Sorry I thought you were so cute.’

Blakearooni ‘Revenge accomplished’

Chuckling in spite of himself, Daniel typed back a reply to both–ensuring to call Blake an asshole and to placate Max’s guilt– and threw his phone on the bed. He had to think of the perfect retaliation.

[fareehaandspaniards]

15 for Gremia, 6, 17 for Ymir, 2 for Damian

Unhinged prompts

15. This character is sent a scam email by the fae requesting they type in their name for a free prize. Do they fall for it?

for Gremia

Yeah, I'm sure he'll fall for it….

I can't say he's very gullible or too naive. At least the adult Gremia we know in the game has been tested enough by life not to trust anyone. But… He's still capable of believing in miracles and his own luck. And it will hurt him deeply to find out otherwise. I think his self-esteem will drop below zero, and he'll even cry. It's almost like a kid finding out that Santa Claus doesn't exist. I mean, he LET himself to believe it, and it turned out to be scam. Oh no... I already feel sorry for him.

Probably Damian can save him <3

6. How would this character answer the trolley problem? Then how would they actually act if faced with it?

for Ymir

Hm… I think nobody is able to tie Yuri or Jolan to the tracks, so probably Ymir won't be too concerned about this problem… (He would drive this trolley even maybe)

Tho he may come up with the solution - if Jolan restrains the trolley with herself, Ymir will release all the captives and thank the stars for that outcome xd

But if he is faced with the problem of “one or many”? No doubt he will choose one more important to himself, hardly anything will make him hesitate

17. What gives this character the most comfort?

for Ymir

Ymir is probably a man of luxury and comfort. Also a carian, a speaker, a teacher - and generally someone who is Very much in touch with people. (I'm not sure, though, that Manus Metyr has many visitors now, but still)

His comfort is probably solitude, silence, and a spacious robe instead of clothes. I have a headcanon that Ymir has varicosis and often has sore legs. Therefore, he needs pillows, massage, warm water, and foot care. Probably the most comfortable thing for him is to take a hot bath and then spend time completely alone lying in bed and reading or drawing (Although Yuri can't interfere with his comfort. On the contrary, Ymir feels very at ease with children, and thus seeks their company)

2. Favorite hc for this character?

for Damian

I think I've posted most of my Damian headcanons here at least once, and the other part you've read in my works yourself, and me and you also discussed some headcanons xD So I'll chose this one:

Damian is a good liar. And even though he tried to be honest with everyone and straightforward, there are a lot of lies in his life. He lied to his parents a lot. Not just when he was a kid! His poor religious kin found out too late that he was working for the Church, and never found out that Damian had become criminal element and a killer right hand of another criminal Micolash.

Micolash preferred to consult him if he was to have conversations with Laurence or Willem. Because Damian didn't usually put his true point of view at the center of the conversation, he put the goal to be achieved at the center. And he's very persuasive when he says something. His lies are hard to recognize, though Micolash got used to it and has learned to sense it.

Damian is able to accuse you of something and make a hundred arguments, even though you both know it's all untrue. And you know, everyone will believe him xd His reputation works for him

He lied to Gremia, and it was hard on both of them. Because Gremia trusted him unconditionally and believed that they have same view of life. And Damian thought he could always be honest with Gremia, but life and ambitions didn't allow it.

When they met again, both tired of life, I think Damian was too broken to try to lie or withhold anything. And Gremia understood him well enough to keep silent when necessary, or to tell the truth in his place <3

He started lying to Micolash as well, when Damian stopped being sure of what the School of Mensis was doing, and when he put his own faith in Kos above Micolash's ambitions.

By the way, it's worth adding that Micolash lied to him quite often. But for some reason Damian was not offended, and in most cases he knew in advance that he was being deceived. Most of the time it was harmless lie that would not hurt anyone. So they could just exchange understanding glances and continue the dialog.

He's trying to save with lies, keep someone safe and help someone close to him. And sometimes he just feels tempted to lie for his own gain and may do so.

He lied a lot to himself in the first place. And has always had difficulty in life trying to get along with himself. And that's perfectly normal

<3

[cloveswifey]

Wedlock

Rafe x Fem!Reader

Type: fluff

Words: 765

At the tender age of twenty, I was wedded to Rafe, a fellow scion of the wealthiest family in Outer Banks. Our marriage was meant to consolidate our families' power, or so our families thought. Rafe always had a thing for me, but I didn't need him to pamper me. Besides, he was a total psycho with anger problems, which made our already tense relationship even more complicated. Our families resorted to having weekly dinners to keep track of our relationship progress. On one such evening, I wore a stunning black dress and gold jewelry my mom had bought me for the dinner. With my hands not long enough to tie the dress up, I struggled, grunting in frustration when Rafe helped me by tying the straps like a bow. Though I wasn't too happy that he substituted the necklace my mom got me for a different one, he insisted, demanding that I wear his purchased necklace to acknowledge his existence. His grip on my hair was gentle, but I couldn't help but feel shivers from his breath gently touching my neck. He fixed the necklace and then slid his hands from my neck to my arms before letting go

Rafe pov

Leaning against the door frame, I watched her struggle with the dress straps, her grunts, sending a thrill down my spine. Why couldn't she reciprocate my feelings? I would give her the whole world if she would only look at me the way I do at her. After a couple of minutes, I walked towards her, fixing the straps without saying a word. She was so damn attractive; it wasn't fair. I reached for the necklace I bought, ignoring her comment about her mother's gift.

"Put this on so that you can acknowledge my existence," I gritted through my teeth while pulling her hair. The heat from her body sent shivers down my spine, and I felt her breath on the nape of my neck. However, she winced at my touch, remarking that I was hurting her. Embarrassed and ashamed for my outburst, I released her hair, adjusting the necklace gently against her skin.

"We're getting late. Wear your shoes," I barked coldly, leaving the room.

Y/ns pov

I slip on my black velvet heels and sling my purse over my shoulder.

"Ready to go, Rafe?" I call out, my voice ringing through the house. I see him checking me out from the corner of my eye.

We leave the house as he locks up. As I sit in the car, Rafe takes the wheel and we head to the Camerons' house.

"You look great," he says, his gaze fixed on my chest.

I reply with a sigh and a compliment. "Thanks, you look good too." And he really does. He's wearing a black long-sleeved button-up paired with black dress pants, which is not what I'm used to seeing Rafe in. His veiny hands grip the wheel as he drives with focus. We arrive 15 minutes later and enter the house.

"Oh, Y/N, you look stunning," my mother greets me with open arms.

"Thanks, Mom."

"She's right, you do look stunning," the Camerons chime in. We take our seats and our parents discuss their work as small talk. I feel Rafe staring at me from the corner of my eye. After two minutes, I excuse myself to the bathroom. Walking into the empty hallway, I head to the bathroom but don't need to use it. I'm just tired of hearing them talk about business. I scroll through my phone for a bit and lose track of time. I put my phone away and step out of the bathroom, only to be stopped by Rafe. He grabs my arm and pulls me back into the bathroom.

"Rafe, what the heck?" I question with a smile.

He pins me to the wall and gets close to my face, his smirk evident before he leans in for a kiss...

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

Somewhere Only We Know

Written By: Tim Rice-Oxley, Tom Chaplin & Richard Hughes

Artist: Keane

Released: 2004

“Somewhere Only We Know” is a song by English alternative rock band Keane, officially released as the lead single from their debut album Hopes and Fears. Keane lead vocalist Tim Rice-Oxley revealed in 2004 of the meaning of the song: “It’s about being able to draw strength from a place or experience you’ve shared with someone. I think it’s an idea a lot of people can relate to.”

[Verse 1] I walked across an empty land I knew the pathway like the back of my hand I felt the earth beneath my feet Sat by the river, and it made me complete [Pre-Chorus] Oh, simple thing, where have you gone? I'm getting old and I need something to rely on So tell me when you're gonna let me in I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin [Verse 2] I came across a fallen tree I felt the branches of it looking at me Is this the place we used to love? Is this the place that I've been dreaming of? [Pre-Chorus] Oh, simple thing, where have you gone? I'm getting old and I need something to rely on So tell me when you're gonna let me in I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin [Chorus] And if you have a minute, why don't we go Talk about it somewhere only we know? This could be the end of everything So why don't we go Somewhere only we know? Somewhere only we know? [Pre-Chorus] Oh, simple thing, where have you gone? I'm getting old and I need something to rely on So tell me when you're gonna let me in I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin [Chorus] And if you have a minute, why don't we go Talk about it somewhere only we know? This could be the end of everything So why don't we go? So why don't we go? Ooh-aah, oh [Outro] This could be the end of everything So why don't we go Somewhere only we know? Somewhere only we know Somewhere only we know

Cosmic Love

Written By: Isabella Summers & Florence Welch

Artist: Florence + the Machine

Released: 2009

“Cosmic Love” has an ethereal yet somber sound, connoting a seemingly light-hearted approach to a melancholy subject. Welch told The Sunday Times that the song illustrates how being in love means “you give yourself up to the dark, to being blind.” Florence also described about its creation on the band’s webpage: “ “Cosmic Love” was a joke title, but it stuck. The most hungover I’ve ever been when writing a song. I went to [Isabella Summers’s] studio after having been to a party, and I was lying on the floor wanting to vomit. We were working really hard on a song and just trying to make this sh*t piano part work, and all of a sudden I hit on one note, and I’d got it. We wrote the whole song in ten minutes.”

[Verse 1] A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes I screamed aloud, as it tore through them And now it's left me blind [Chorus] The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out You left me in the dark No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart [Verse 2] And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat I tried to find the sound But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness So darkness I became [Chorus] The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out You left me in the dark No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart [Bridge] I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map And knew that somehow I could find my way back Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too So I stayed in the darkness with you [Chorus] The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out You left me in the dark No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart [Chorus] The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out You left me in the dark No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart

[fujowebdev]

🎁Spotlight #4: Rewards🎁

With only 5 days to go and trifling matters (like the spotlight on the zine we're selling) out of the way, it’s time to dive into what you’re all really here for: backer rewards.

Follow along to learn about our stickers, charms, memo pads and more! But first, the basics:

All $15+ pledges get the digital zine, then more and more extra items the higher you pledge!

Everyone who pledges $1+ gets access to the add-on store, where you can buy individual items!

Check out our reward levels (and back us) on Kickstarter!

Let's get the basics out of the way: the first and most important reward of them all is our zine, available as a digital release or a beautifully printed book! If you haven't looked at our deep dive on the demo yet, save this thread for later.

Next, our mysterious "digital goodies pack". What's in there? To start: exclusive wallpapers of our characters, a Boba-tan "under construction" banner for your website, and… some emoji?? 👀👀

(We plan to add more to this pack as we—and you 😘—come up with fun ideas!)

Coming up, one of the most basic and useful programming tools–cheat sheets! You can find many like this (☝️) online, but as far as we can tell, none have hot men on them.

"GIT" the clearly superior version (catboys included) with a $55+ pledge or as an add-on!

Getting even more physical, time for the Browserland shimeji pad! Born from @essential-randomness's love of dot grids and ererifan915's incredible talent for chibis, this notepad is a great way to keep track of TODOs or brainstorm layouts for your site and beyond!

Sample pages ☝️

It’s finally sticker time!! We have not just ONE, but TWO sets of stickers for our $55+ backers, or those who select them as an add-on.

First, a sticker sheet with ALL our shimeji (including the previously-unreleased, soon-to-be-colored Localhost team) by ererifan915. So cute!

And second, this incredible Boba-tan "We Can Ship It" sticker by @kiwipon! Featuring a rubber duck pattern in one of 5 different colors, it's sure to be the envy of everyone's laptops!

Want a specific color? Buy a set of all 5 as an add-on!

You know what's even better than stickers? Yes, indeed: charms! The Boba-tan "We Can Ship It" sticker is also available in charm form.

Whether on your keychain, your bag, or wherever else your heart desires, it's the ultimate accessory for the fujin/coder on the move!

But wait, there's more! Thanks to your heartwarming support, we unlocked a few more stretch goals that give our backers even more rewards: first, a set of 5 postcards, featuring art from our zine!

While we haven’t finalized the design yet, here's a sample of what you'll find ☝️

The next unlocked stretch goal is… 🥁🥁🥁 a digital coloring book featuring some of our amazing illustrations’ line art!

Tired of spending time staring at a screen? Print a sheet out, get those pastels out of storage, and color things up! 🖍 Or do it digitally, if you prefer!

And last, but certainly not least, one of the first extra items we unlocked thanks to your generous contributions during our “Git’s Birthday Bash” event: cat boy bath water!

Yes, we're very proud of it. See the original picture we parodied for a sample of what it'll look like. ☝️

And now… the big ones! If the above is not enough for you, we have special tiers with EXCLUSIVE rewards available. Did you fall in love with the magnificent work of one of our artists? Want one of our writers to insert you or your OC into our fictional world? Back GIT Art/Fic!

Or maybe, just maybe, you're raring to go explore the world of programming, but are feeling overwhelmed by it all?

If configuring your development environment and other technical questions get you down, back GIT Help & set yourself up for success with the help of our volunteers!

Last but 100% not least: if you truly, deeply believe in this project and have the 💰 to match, back our "producer" tiers to get credited in our zine! Don't want your name? We'll figure something out!

Tiers are GIT Credited ($1k), Kilo Credited ($5k) or Mega Credited($10k)!

…and that’s all for today! Remember, if anything catches your eye, even a $1 pledge gets you access to the add-ons tab. You can check what’s in each tier on the Kickstarter sidebar. Want to upgrade your pledge? You only have 5 days left! Get add-ons too!

[bvannn]

Weekly Update June 7, 2024

I’m in a sour mood right now because I got differed from plasma over paperwork. I’ll try a different chain next week, since the one I’ve been going to is super crowded now anyway. We also got a cat this week, that was the correct answer to the post on Saturday. It’s my mom’s cat, but mom has been out most of this week so I’ve been left alone with her. I’ve been really tired. Like insanely tired. But I still got a good amount of stuff done.

Artfight stuff: I’m planning on revamping the thumbnails and redoing Romeo’s refsheet, plus adding Josh. Luckily at work this week I was put on a job that’s pretty relaxed as far as timing goes, and I have lots of little gaps of time to draw while I wait for the balance to stabilize. As a result I got Romeo and Josh’s refsheets sketched, as well as all the thumbnails planned + several sketched. Tomorrow I’ll try to get some of those rendered.

Comic stuff: Comic is going to be on the back burner this month and next most likely, but I did finish off page 7 and started sketching page 8, which I plan to continue slowly. Every once in a while I’ll get stunlocked with indecisiveness and what I’ve been doing to combat it is 15 sit-ups and then roll a wheel of small tasks and do whatever it says, then repeat until free time is over. So it’s still getting done in those little bursts where I don’t have enough time for something bigger.

Music: another quickie is generally done, but I’m going to hold off on it until I decide to do lyrics for it, because it would probably be perfect for an animation meme if I add some quick generic poppy lyrics. Like I can just channel my rage into a couple stanzas and call it good. I really want to release songs specifically for animation memes because I like newgrounds and respect newgrounds’ copyright policy so I want to make some nice music for animation memes that’s copyright safe for whoever to use with credit. Also still making progress on re-mixing my older tracks, OEB needed a complete redo, some VSTs needed to be swapped out entirely, plug I’m learning a bunch of fancy new tricks, so good chance I’ll post another sample of that once I get it figured out. Unsure if I need to actually redo the vocaloid track or just to redo the effects, but I can figure that out after the instrumentals are done.

Also got a good amount of lyric writing done, RR is 88% done, BATB is still a cool 71%. I’m getting into the groove of doing that at work too, so hopefully those should be done quick, plus the quickie I have on hold. Once I have energy I’ll also finish up that other quickie and the Zelda medley I’ve had in the pipe, hopefully that’ll be this weekend, but good chance it’ll be Monday night.

Other things: OEB is at 32% on storyboards, and like 17% on the Kyo rig. A whole bunch of assets are done but need to be imported/exported, plus I’m taking a couple shortcuts too to make things a bit easier, and I can flesh out the rig more as I use it more. Also, my strategy for the sketchy lines is a success! I may also be able to apply it to other areas and fix the issue of flash being shit for drawing, but that’s a bit ambitious. I’ll try chipping away at having the rest of the clip assets *drawn* by the end of the month so I can import/export them at work next month. But again that’s currently in the ‘if I have a little free time’ bracket of priority.

Miscellaneous: I’m getting a couple TTRPG things done too, little bit of writing, little bit of drawing, again not too high a priority but it’s getting done.

Tonight I’m tired and in a bad mood so I’m going to just chip away at re-mixing OEB tonight and maybe sketch a comic panel or two. Maybe. I have one more regular general drawing I want to get done before the end of the month but I don’t know when that’s coming, this weekend I’ll try to focus on Artfight stuff, with breaks in between to spin the wheel of small tasks I need to accomplish. Lots of housekeeping, hopefully next week is kind to me with plasma so I get more time.

[usogao]

"To Pimp A Butterfly" Album Review (20240515)

DESCRIPTION AND MUSIC VIDEO

"To Pimp A Butterfly" is the third studio album by American rapper Kendrick Lamar. It was released on March 15, 2015, by Top Dawg Entertainment, Aftermath Entertainment, and Interscope Records. The album was accompanied by videos for the tracks "For Free? (Interlude)", "King Kunta", and "Alright".

Genres: Hip Hop, Neo-Soul, Jazz, Experimental

Original Release Date: March 15, 2015

TRACKLIST

Wesley's Theory - George Clinton, Thundercat (4:47)

For Free? - Interlude (2:10)

King Kunta (3:54)

Institutionalized - Bilal, Anna Wise, Snoop Dogg (4:31)

These Walls - Bilal, Anna Wise, Thundercat (5:00)

u (4:28)

Alright (3:39)

For Sale? - Interlude (4:51)

Momma (4:43)

Hood Politics (4:52)

How Much A Dollar Cost - James Fauntleroy, Ronald Isley (4:21)

Complexion (A Zulu Love) - Rhapsody (4:23)

The Blacker The Berry (5:28)

You Ain't Gotta Lie (Momma Said) (4:01)

i (5:36)

Mortal Man (12:07)

PERSONAL REVIEW

I first listened to this album in full on a road trip back from a family visit to Las Vegas. To tell the truth, I was incredibly tired while listening to it - both physically and mentally. Every trip to Las Vegas seemed more draining than the previous so I felt like I needed something fresh. A while back, a classmate of mine recommended this album to me, so I figured 'why not?'

The first five tracks of this album were able to place me in a deceptively calm trance and a false sense of security. By using jazz melodies in the backgrounds of tracks like "For Free?" and "Wesley's Theory", I was in familiar territory. However, once I heard the screams at the beginning of "u", I was wide awake.

"u" marks the complete tonal shift in the album. As a whole, Kendrick creates a spectacle of mourning, political controversy, and personal battles with mental health within 'To Pimp A Butterfly'. I vaguely knew this but when "u" started playing, I was awake and I started paying attention. The lyrics of "u" are haunting, talking about someone yelling at themselves while dealing with the darkest aspects of depression while chaotic yet harmonic jazz plays in the background. Once that track ended I kept my eyes on the road and my mind was glued to every word and note that came from my headphones.

Throughout the album, Kendrick reads lines off of a poem, one by one, that he fully recites in the final track "Mortal Man", which is a metaphorical interview between him and the late 2Pac. The poem reads as follows:

"I remember you was conflicted Misusing your influence Sometimes I did the same Abusing my power, full of resentment Resentment that turned into a deep depression Found myself screaming in the hotel room I didn't wanna self destruct The evils of Lucy was all around me So I went running for answers Until I came home But that didn't stop survivor's guilt Going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes I earned Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was But while my loved ones was fighting the Continuous war back in the city, I was entering a new one A war that was based on apartheid and discrimination Made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what I learned The word was respect Just because you wore a different gang color than mine's Doesn't mean I can't respect you as a black man Forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets If I respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us But I don't know, I'm no mortal man, maybe I'm just another [CENSORED]"

I'm in no position to interpret what anything off this album means, as it's not for me. The lyrics of each song speak for themselves, as well as speak about Kendrick's life experiences. All I can really say is listen to this album yourself and see what you get from it.

I originally wrote this review back in March of 2021, a junior in high school. I decided to revisit it seeing as how we’re right in the middle of some of the most investing rap beef of our time. Listening to this album again, now as a college student majoring in Literature, I can appreciate the level of poetry that was put into this. This was the album that won Kendrick a god damn Pulitzer prize. That’s got to count for something.

Like I said before, this album isn’t for someone like me — a non-binary Asian-American kid going to UC Santa Cruz. I grew up all over the place, the two most crucial places of my development being Long Beach, CA and Las Vegas, NV. I can’t begin to understand what’s being described in this album. The fact of the matter is that this album can be listened to by everybody. Kendrick’s writing reaches every and all audiences and encourages them to think, not just about their lives but about their mortality. This album is a challenge to the government and the institutions that keep us imprisoned in our own cages. I encourage people to listen to this and challenge themselves to think beyond what they’re used to.

I can also say that my thoughts are haunted by the simple phrase, “I remember you was conflicted.”