#which like. i too would have blocked the existence of these books from my memory.

[hearts4court]

What it’s like dating The Marauders + Regulus Black!!

18++ Minors DNI!! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!

characters: James F. Potter, Sirius O. Black, Remus J. Lupin and, Regulus A. Black.

warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of the black family, kissing. lemme know if i missed anything, Fem! reader^^

Authors note: Hey hey my lovelies!! So this idea came to me when i was scrolling on pinterest and i saw a picture of a couple and it made me sad because i’m single as a dollar. BUT, i decided to share my idea with the class. Voldemort does not exist in this AU, but magic does!

James F. Potter:

Y’all are known as the “Goofy” couple. Y’all are always doing stupid things together, and overall y’all are just the cutest and funniest couple. Sometimes you too will skip your classes to make out in his dorm or to have sex. He’s AMAZING at giving head. You’ll take his glasses off his face and wear them, and it probably turns him on, ngl. Or he takes polaroids of you to save for his little scrapbook he made of y’all, for all of y’all’s memories. yes i said it. fight me. He’s such a praiser, whether it’s giving it or receiving it. he doesn’t care. “Does that feel good, baby? does my pretty girl like that?” he praises you as he thrusts into you. “always such a good girl for me.” he groans. “J-Jamie! fuck.. feels so good!” you moan, digging your nails into his shoulder, that causes him to chuckle

<3

Sirius O. Black:

omfg. Y’all are literally the hottest couple at Hogwarts. Nobody can decide if they wanna be you, or Sirius, or if they wanna be with both of y’all. You two sit together in every single class y’all have together, and his hand is always on your thigh no matter where y’all are. he really couldn’t give a flying fuck. You’re always on his lap, and his arms are always wrapped around you pulling you closer to him. He’s always kissing your neck and leaving hickeys to show you off, which sometimes he gets detention for, for inappropriate behavior. he’s such a rough! dom, when it comes to sex but he’s also a soft!dom at the same time? He will degrade the hell out of you but also praise you at the same time. “Look at you.. drooling and screaming my name.. ya look s’pretty like this.” Sirius coos as he rams into you from behind. “My dumb little slut.” he breathes against your neck. “F-fucking hell.. Siri please go faster- i’ll be good.. p-promise!” you whimper causing him to smirk and speed up. “i know baby.. such a good girl for me.”

:)

Remus J. Lupin:

Oh he’s such a sweetheart. Y’all are Hogwarts’s Cutest couple. If they’re was a Cutest couple of the year contest, y’all would win every time. He loves to read to you, and you take care of him after full moons when he comes back into the castle, like taking care of his wounds, helping him clean himself up, etc. “Are you alright, Remmy?” you coo in worry, running a warm cloth against his forehead and his cheeks.”M’alright, dove.” he mumbled, taking a sip of his water weakly. Y’all love to do study dates, then you two go back to his dorm and do skincare together. :( His kisses are so soft no matter what y’all are doing, and he loves praising you. “Good job on your exam, baby.” he smiles, kissing your head gently. He’s SUCH a soft! Dom. “look at ya.. taking me s’well..c’mon princess… you can a little more.” he says into your ear in a soft tone. “Mm! f-feels so good Remmy!” you whimper, biting your lip slightly. He 100% whispers book lines into your ear. My man is literally William Shakespeare.

Rizzmus Lupin<3

Regulus A. Black:

Reggie:( Oh poor Reg, he never thought anyone would ever love him because of his family, but your just an angel from above, aren’t you? Tbh, people are scared of Regulus so they don’t really give talk about you two. While he studies your always either laying or sitting on his lap. More sitting then laying. All you ever does is complain, and he hates it. “Why are you so harsh on people, Reggie?” you ask in a sweet voice, running your fingers through his curly hair. “I don’t do it on purpose y’know.” he grumbled looking up from his book, before looking back at it, as he leans into you. You shake your head before continuing to play with his hair. Just like his brother, he’s a rough! Dom, and loves to degrade you. Now, All you ever do is complain. Whether it’s about students, teachers, work, yourself, all you ever do upset reggie with your complaining. And every time he shuts you up. “You just don’t know how to shut up, do you?” He says, grabbing onto your hair hard, pulling your head back.”M’sorry!” you cry, which is more like a moan then a cry, continuing to bounce on him, and move your hips in a circular motion.”Yeah, yeah. But since you wanna be a little bitch and complain so bloody much.. i’m not letting you cum.” he whispers in your ear, pulling you off him, as a punishment for pissing him off.

UGH. i want him to ruin me.

[foxglovepng]

Random Headcannons 3 🌼🥀

Requested: naw

Characters: Scarabia + Pomefiore

A/N: I'm getting back into the writing mood yay I'll probably take requests in the future because I am slowly getting over writer's block. I looked up a word in Arabic and if the word is incorrectly translated incorrectly feel free to correct me.

If you liked reblogs and likes are appreciative <3

Kalim

Knock knock who's there? Autism br br br where the hoes at? not here

I love my Autistic headcanon for Kalim. I also saw a headcanon he has ADHD too. (I forgot the word for ADHD and Autism combined help)

When he's unmedicated Jamil is that one meme of Shinji his stress levels are high. He's practically lived with Kalim so he knows he can get hyper although he pushes through it being used to it.

I headcanon Kalim has sensory issues that mainly have to do with touch. (Mine are sound and taste :skull:)

Since he likes parties and is extremely sociable I feel like sometimes he can get overwhelmed he chills in his sensory swing. I also feel like since he plays the drums he does have backup headphones on hand in case it's too loud.

Jamil tends to calm him down with essential oils (Don't ask me what kind he likes I only know Rosemary, and Cherry blossom)

Jamil

Jamil drop the hair routine or I'll break your ankles Sangwoo style so you can't dance anymore. I will even report your music-listening account so you are no longer allowed to play hip hop DROP THE ROUTINE RN JAMIL

This is my no 2 pookie bear I love him sm ANYWAYS

I feel like in his alone time Jamil has his own hobbies he hides from Kalim and will go above and beyond just to have them to himself. One of those I feel like is reading romance books (Not the feral ones booktok gooners read) romance is one of the genres he reads I feel like he also reads fantasy. (He has read Pride and Prejudice)

He'd probably also go to art conventions on his spare time. He has a sketchbook and draws on occasion (I think he draws similar to Hyunjin's style)

Him and Kalim speak Arabic and English although I feel like when Jamil wants to cuss someone out or insult someone he will bring the Arabic out.

*Ace messes up a play*

Ace: so um great play

Jamil: اهبل (Google says this means stupid/idiot)

Ace: HUH?

Vil

*Throws my genderqueer headcannon at you Eminem style*

Gender queer Icon Vil.

If I am correct he is referred to as Queen by Rook?? so I believe Vil doesn't really care for pronouns and just simply exists. So Vil would use any pronouns interchangeably.

Also random headcannon but Vil's father is like..famous right? So I feel like he gets insulted and called a Nepo baby.

Peep Epel and Vil get into a fight and Epel calls him a Nepo baby. Oh all hell is breaking loose.

(I also headcannon he'd make an appearance in Eurovision)

Rook

I need Frenchie to become a slur so I can shout FRENCHIE at Rook 24/7

This man either has a really good memory or a diary in which he keeps info of students. (Their height, weight, UM, etc) its freaky ngl. AND NOT A GOOD FREAKY WAY.

I saw some art of him and Floyd in the bathroom and he was peeking over the urinal. BRO KEEP YA EYES ON YA JUNK.

I can imagine certain NRC students have a group chat dedicated to slandering Rook.

He probably knows about it :Skull:

Epel

Guys this my son <3

I am a firm believer he is an Amish hater.

"I hate the way you talk the way you walk" ahh beat.

From a farmer's perspective I don't think he's 100% vegan, but if you bribe him with bbq he will start foaming at the mouth.

Bro probably listens to Dixon Dallas good looking-

He's also a Dolly Parton and Carrie Underwood fan.

I feel like with people he's close with especially the first years he lets his country accent loose and it will get even looser if someone (or Yuu) has a country accent as well. The rest of the first years will be like "They are speaking in tongues"

[sorchaivy]

I wrote this on the day of his death, and it still holds true 10 years later.

TL;DR - Sir Terry Pratchett continues to be an amazing presence in so many lives, and will do so for as long as his books (over 70 of them!) are read and loved. So pretty much as long as literate humanity continues to exist, I reckon.

Because I never can just say something simply [I had written a much shorter and pithier post earlier in the same morning], I have to go back and try again.

Which seems fitting. Since it was Sir Pterry (note spelling) who first introduced me to the concept of the "Draft 0". Draft 0 is pretty simple, he said. You just write. You write everything you could possibly need, and an awful lot you possibly won't, and then some more that you certainly won't. You write and write until it's all there on the page, your verbal block of marble.

And THEN you start carving out the piece, the story, the masterwork. Storycraft as sculpture. It's a metaphor that appeals.

He said that in a talk he gave at Melbourne University, which Mum took me to see back in, oh, would have been 2004, I think. That was the same talk where I heard the Best Cosplaying Story ever. Where he talked about going into the Outback, looking up at the stars, and realising that Orion was upside down, and what a giddy, marvellous, humbling moment that was. And where I discovered that he thought Sam Vimes was a better man than he himself (I would respectfully disagree, but in fairness I only ever really met Sam).

Terry Pratchett has been a part of my life since Mum first handed me "Mort" at age 15 and said, "I think you might like this." (She was right.) He had a gift for saying a thing in a way that made it seem like it had always been obvious, and yet was completely revelatory at the same time.

His books helped me walk away from organised religion (and, ultimately, theism full stop). Helped me forge my own moral and ethical codes. Helped me enter the heady world of critical thinking. Helped me find humour and gentle amusement in the foibles and oddities of this weird species we belong to (don't get me wrong, I still get ragemakey at teh stoopid - but far less than I would have, had I not had Sir Terry in my life). Helped me when Mum died. Helped me when things seemed to fall apart, and when things seemed to be going so impossibly right that I was waiting for the other shoe (not Reg).

Sir Terry once wrote (and I've already seen this quote pop up in a few of my friends' posts this morning) that a person's life isn't truly ended until the last ripples of their life dies away. Until the clock they wound up winds down. Until the words they spoke no longer echo. Until the worlds they wrote no longer spin. Until the Turtle no longer moves.

My sister saw my first post this morning, and called to see if I was okay. She said, "He never meant as much to me, but for you, it's like you've lost 1,000 friends all at once."

And I smiled. I honestly did. Right there on the tram. Because you know what? I haven't. They're all still there, in the books on my shelves, in the places in my head, in my bones. And a little piece of him is in every single one. I haven't lost anything, not truly.

His family. His friends. The people who had the privilege (and, possibly, frustration) of knowing him, the man behind the words, the humanest human, who talked and laughed and swore and wept and breathed and ate and shat and slept and snored and sneezed and all the things that will suddenly mean so much. Because now he will not do any of those things again.

Those are the people my heart breaks for now. Not myself. Not those of us who were touched by the works but not the man. We still get to hold him and his memory, and we haven't lost anything at all, not truly. But they have. So spare a moment for the ripple that is a tidal wave passing through their lives right now.

And I hope that, in time, they too can draw comfort from the knowledge that the ripples are still going. That they may never stop.

The Turtle Still Moves.

Vale Sir Pterry. You aten't dead. Not to me.

[star-seeking-stray]

Hi there! :3

🎼Take my hand, let's set this world on fire Light it up-up for the show🎶

Welcome to my main blog! Here you'll find occasional thoughts, sketches, reblogs and other stuff. If I remember that this blog exists, that is.

🎵Picture your planet in disharmony🎶

Random Infos:

Call me Seeker!

Not ashamed to admit that I run rp blogs (currently: Bsd & Link Click, but I'm always open to crossovers!)

Just a random silly person who can recite facts about various httyd dragons from memory

I read too much (I'm building a mini library at home at this rate)

My music taste is about as random as it can get

I enjoy writing as well (but get writer's block easily so updates can take anywhere from a few days to even weeks or months, even if I update other stuff)

My main language is German, so I mess up sometimes-

You can also find me here and here!

Hobbies?

Running my rp blogs

Reading, anything from regular books and manga to fanfics

Editing! I'm not very good at it yet but I sometimes make silly little edits (even more sporadic than my writing, honestly)

Writing (as stated above)

Sketching, but not very regularly

Cosplaying is kinda a hobby of mine, but I don't post them

🎶Nothing's gonna make our fate back down But we gotta turn the time around🎵

Fandoms!

Bungou Stray Dogs, probably the fandom I'm most active in currently

Link Click! (Please check it out)

How To Train Your Dragon, my oldest fandom. Still love it to bits despite sadly engaging less actively

The Dragon Prince, which is honestly awesome, go check it out!

FNAF, kinda, tho I suck at the lore and will probably never remember all of it (my brain can't handle all the infos lmao)

To Be Hero X! (It's just starting out please go check it out it's so worth it-)

Random other fandoms that come and go! Honestly there's so many things I enjoy but don't engage with much- name a fandom, it's a 50/50 on whether I know it and also enjoy it or not!

🎶Our memories come back to life (back to life) Take you on a journey through time🎵

Favorite Characters?

Sigma (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Chuuya Nakahara (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Paul Verlaine (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Cheng Xiaoshi (Link Click)

Lu Guang (Link Click)

Vein (Link Click)

Xia Fei (Link Click)

Liu Xiao (Link Click)

Aaravos (The Dragon Prince)

Hiccup (How To Train Your Dragon)

Nice (To Be Hero X)

Lin Ling (To Be Hero X)

Botw/Totk!Link(Legend of Zelda)

More TBA

Tagging system might get explained. At some point-

Rp Blog Masterlist!

🎶Why would you even bother? Time is like music, now you know I've got to kill it🎵

Anyway, have a nice day/night!

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Name: Memphis Malik Species: Medium Occupation: Paramedic Age: 27 Years Old Played By: Cody Face Claim: Anirudh Pisharody

"I’m running on about two hours of sleep and last night my little sister told me that I failed her gaming friend’s ‘vibe check’. So as you can imagine, I’m emotionally devastated."

TW: Parental death

Sanjeev and Priya Malik were avid birdwatchers. Star crossed lovers turned lawyers, anytime they could escape the courtroom or paperwork they were traveling - cameras and books in hand, competing to try to capture the best picture of the rarest birds. Once they had their first and only child, the hobby began to slowly die down until they stopped doing it entirely. Memphis Malik never met his grandparents, both had passed long before he had any memories of them. Yet he knew this fact, and so many more about both of them. Mostly because they never shut the hell about it.

Memphis had no clue two people could be so bitter about not being able to birdwatch. Or that their only child had chosen to become a teacher instead of lawyers like they had been. Or really, everything under the sun. But since Memphis was a little kid, he could see both of his grandparents clear as day as if the two of them had never passed. And unfortunately for him, he could hear them too; and all the opinions that came with them.

Unfortunately for Memphis, they weren’t the only ones. His powers had activated earlier than most, or so his mother had told him. The ability to see and speak to the dead, an ability that was apparently not exclusive to their family. What seemed to be exclusive though was the rate at which they became ghosts. For as long as anybody could remember, every single Malik that passed away returned as a ghost. Forced to exist on this Earth until they lost any sense of themselves and were forced to be exorcized. That was apparently a unique Malik family trait. They all wanted something from the remaining Malik’s. Their exact ask changed from ghost to ghost but it all boiled down to one common desire: peace. Everyone wanted to move on, and that wasn’t something Memphis could help them do.

Despite this, growing up wasn’t terrible. Both of his parents supported Memphis and tried to keep the ghosts from bothering him too much. Sure, school was a nightmare when one of his ancestors would show up and scream at him to deliver a letter to a former loved one or to find a box hidden under a mattress and throw it away without looking at what was in it- gross - but overall, he had developed coping mechanisms and had his parents and his younger sister that helped him not only get through school - but medical school and residency too. 

Memphis couldn’t provide his family peace, so he wasn’t sure why he thought he could keep his forever. When his parents were taken from him, everything started falling apart. The worst part? His parents were right there as ghosts, watching him fall to pieces without being able to do anything about it. 

Now it was just Memphis and his little sister Clarissa, who so far hadn’t shown any signs of being a medium herself. Not yet, at least. But whatever his parents had been doing to distract the ghosts didn’t exist anymore, and for now the only person left to bear the brunt of this curse was Memphis. He may already be cursed, but he would be damned if he was going to become some lonely, trapped spirit like the rest of his family did. Most importantly, he refused to make Clary have to deal with it. So now it was on him to find a way to finally put an end to it.

Character Facts:

Personality: Friendly, exhausted, clueless, cautious, scatter-brained, distracted, paranoid

Memphis almost always wears large, noise-canceling headphones. They have become the most reliable way to tune out whatever member of his family had shown up to wreak havoc on his life. Unfortunately this also comes at the cost of him tending to block out the rest of the world as well

Memphis has spent his entire life trying to avoid his family’s spirits. So much so that he’s never really explored the other sides of the supernatural world in White Crest. 

Memphis has taken over sole custody of his twelve year old sister, Clary. She has basically become his entire world now, and he is entirely too dependent on her. She could use some space.

Between the ghosts constantly trying to grab his attention, the hospital, and caring for a twelve year old - Memphis is very tired. 

Something seems to keep his family members from expressing exactly how they died. Memphis is no expert on curses, but he’d say that was definitely suspicious.

While Memphis did finish med school, the death of his parents made things too difficult to continue his residency. He dropped out shortly after to focus on taking care of his sister.

[fuckmeyer]

random! but I absolutely love your interpretation of Bella and Edward and was wondering what you think Bella would gift Edward for his birthday — i know she gifts him her visions as a vampire and compiles them in a lil montage, but I'm more interested in what you think she'd opt for left to her mere human talents

aw, thank you, anon! glad you like my interpretation of Bella & Edward. love your question. tricky! what do you get the rich century-old vampire for a celebration he typically ignores? the perfect gift requires a fundamental understanding of who this man is, what he wants, & what he needs.

i think (& believe this applies to canon too)...

Edward has a contradiction within him that leads to his suffering. he reads others' minds; no one can do the same, yet he hears everyone's judgments about him. most are projections, but what they all instinctively know is also what he fears: he's a monster. this skews his perception of himself because it "confirms" what he "knows." being a monster makes him inherently bad. selfish. cruel. violent. unworthy. soulless. his opinion isn't all negative: he knows he's curious, intelligent, musical, etc., but these traits all stem from or are influenced by his vampirism...meaning all his positive traits are shadowed by his "evilness"

by virtue of trying to be a better person, some part of him knows this is not who he truly is. deep down, he wants to be seen— the parts of him he's forgotten, denied, or ignored but exist nonetheless. he wants to be seen as good. worthy. deserving. human. lovable. soulful. he wants someone to see the suffering, the contradiction. he wants someone to see he's lonely. that his needs aren't met. that he's misunderstood.

part of why he's drawn to Bella is her "goodness" &, more importantly, her silent mind. not only does she draw the best out of him, but he can't see the worst of himself through her eyes. as annoying as he says it is, being blocked from her mind is a relief.

which leads us to another thing Edward wants: Edward wants to see Bella's mind. canon Bella kinda understands this by the end with the lil vampire montage, but as a human, she lacks self confidence & self awareness to understand Edward truly is interested in knowing her.

ok, so say she has more self-confidence & enough self-awareness & knows Edward well enough to understand what he wants and needs... here's how the birthday goes:

she would take him someplace where he can't hear anyone's thoughts (e.g. the meadow, but tbh it'd be fun if she took him someplace he's never been. he can enjoy the surprise & mystery.)

she would plan activities he's typically excluded from. e.g., a game of chess/cards, maybe a picnic (even if he can't eat, he can enjoy a human experience)

she would wear an outfit he loves on her (NO green sweater. sorry folks)

she might make a mixtape of songs she loved as a child & details the memories behind them, OR a mixtape of songs from their relationship showcasing her favorite memories together. i.e., giving him a peek into her mind through something they have in common

fucking CUTE ASS HOMEMADE CARD drawn/painted by her. if she was brave, all her mushy feelings she would never say out loud would go into this (or in an accompanying letter). i could also see her making a collage: she would cut out quotes about love from his favorite books, put in some pressed flowers he's given her, maybe mementos from their time together (ticket stubs, fave lyrics, scraps from their Bio homework with their flirty notes written in the margins, photos, etc). if she journals, maybe she cuts out some sections where she's writing about him. something that shows him that, just as he's grateful for every second of their time together, she values that time just as much

straight up she might ask him if there's anything he wants to do with her. if he wants to take her to a bookstore or record store & drop a cool thousand on her, she will grin & bear it. if he wants to slowdance with her for hours, great. if he wants her to go to Mike Newton's & kick him in the balls...well, maybe they can compromise & egg his house or sth

ok this idea won't leave my brain so here ya go: taking a favorite date of theirs but making it totally solo. thinking particularly of going to the drive-in theater. except instead of going to the drive-in, she would roll that Chevy out to the woods, there's a projector & screen all set up, the truckbed is filled with blankets & pillows & snacks, & they watch his favorite movie together

she would touch him. not sexually because that would put him on edge. but she would play with his hair & rub his back & touch his skin & cuddle & hold his hand etc., because LORD KNOWS this man is touch-starved after decades of being alone & this lack of contact has contributed to his low self esteem

ultimately, she would give him what he wants (her) while showing him that she understands what he needs (to be seen). THAT, to me, would be the ultimate gift for the man who seemingly has everything.

[localcryptidsteg]

Tracing, Style Theft, and the need to be Unique

A comment chain on Instagram got me thinking about these things earlier. Someone asked what common art advice is actually bad advice, and I left a short list that Ive heard, among which is "dont trace."

Naturally, this ruffled some feathers, but heres the deal: so long as you arent line-for-line copying the majority of someone elses work and passing it off as yours? Theres absolutely nothing wrong with tracing. Copying and tracing are two different things; think back to the old "how to draw" books. How they blocked out anatomy and taught you the relative distance of things with lines and joints. Tracing... is essentially doing the same thing. As a learning tool for personal use, being able to take a picture and draw the skeletal frame over it helps you with perpesctive and anatomy immensely! It even helps in stylization. Tracing develops the skills you need in order to replicate something, replication develops the skills you need in order to stylize.

Which brings us to our next issue.... style theft isnt a thing. It doesnt exist. Unless youre forging paintings and passing them off as the real deal, there is absolutely zero reason not to look at the techniques and stylization your favorite artists use and replicate that. Again, it helps you develop skills like shading and coloring and lineart. And having your own "style"? One that has to be completely different from anyone elses? Thats bullshit! Most artists dont just have ONE style. The best artists have several and go out of their way to continue learning more!

Think of it this way: we wouldnt have 2d animation if actual artists gave a flying fuck about their "style" being copied. The Renaissance artists would never have risen to prominence if their teachers hadnt sat them down and told to paint how they did. Bob Ross would never have had a tv show if mimicking how someone else creates mattered in any way at all.

The way you develop your own style is simply this: you look at your favorite artists, you analyze what elements of their work make your brain happy and what are enjoyable for you to do, you mash them all together and voila. Your very own (not really at all) "unique" style.

I think this frankly terrible and counterintuitive art advice trend is killing artists. When you go online as an artist and preach to a bunch of younger aspiring artists that invaluable tools for growth are inherently bad and wrong and theyre evil for using them, you do three things at once:

First, you make them fear creation. "I want to draw or sculpt or knit or what have you, but what if I accidentally copy someone? Then Id be a bad person!"

Second: you kill the joy of creation. They become too focused on the end result and never really learn how to make for the sake of making.

Third: you block their avenues of progress. In order to get better at your craft, you really do have to try everything. Trying to make certain techniques into something "off limits" only serves to hinder that progression. It causes stagnation which in turn causes frustration, which leads us back to issue 2.

When I was a kid, my grandma would drive two hours to my city every year for my birthday, and every year she would take me to the art museum. My grandma loved art with every fiber of her being. She was thrilled when my mom went to art school. She was estatic when my sibling and I took up drawing. But she never, EVER tried to make anything herself. See, when she was in school, her art teacher had told her she wasnt very good. And she, being a kid, believed it. And she stopped trying. She would never color with me and my sibling, would never try drawing with us when we begged her to join in. Shed chuckle and say "oh, I couldnt draw a straight line with a ruler!" And sit and watch us work and rave over how good we were at it instead.

When she hit about 80 or so, her memory started going. But she still loved the museum and she still loved art. One of my aunts talked her into taking one of those "how to paint" classes at a little studio near her house. She painted a cake. And you know what? It was a really friggin good painting! Itd be hanging in my room right now if my aunt hadnt called dibs!

My point is this: anyone of any skill level can learn to draw or paint or whatever. Im a major proponent of this; I always have been. But shaming creatives for how they do it, for how they learn it, for what they make? That destroys the drive to create, and it can last a lifetime. Who knows what my grandma could have made if not for that teacher? Who knows how many young artists felt nothing but shame and guilt over their work and quit because of bad-faith art advice?

[re-readingcomics]

Comics Read 10/14-11/02/2023

I recently read the first two volumes of The Nice House on the Lake written by James Tyrion IV, with art by Álvaro Martínez Bueno and colors by Jordie Bellaire. I have been reading Tyrion for a while, and Bellaire’s colors are familiar, the work of Martínez Bueno is new to me. I decided to read it based on liking Tyrion’s other work, which was good decision!

The Nice House on the Lake is about a bunch of people who all share a friend in a guy named Walter. Only it turns out that Walter is an alien from a species that has decided to wipe out most of humanity, except for some segregated groups of ten, who will prove that they can live in harmony unlike the rest. Here it is important to note that we do not see any of the other groups of ten that other members of Walter’s species selected in this volume, and also there are more than ten in this group. Walter invited his hand selected favorite people to survive the destruction of the world in a cabin near Milwaukee. These friends are from various phases in life, high school, college, and just hanging around New York City. They don’t know each other well and between that and the shock of that’s happened they are doomed from the start. Helpfully, both volumes come with a not quite complete character guide in their back matter.

Each issue is introduced by one of the characters narrating directly to reader, some time after the main narrative, when the idyllic isolation of the house has ended and the apocalypse has become a regular part of their lives. The two volumes presented here do not bring us to that point yet, but I am interested in getting there. What I have read reminds me a  bit of Tyrion’s earlier comic book, The Woods, which I liked, and I am willing to say that this is better. Early on, it also reminded me of the Vertigo series Unfollowed, but considering what a misanthropic mess that turned into, it is probably for the best that I stoped being reminded of it. 

The speaker at the beginning of the issue also shares flashbacks illuminating their one-on-one personal relationships with Walter. These always involve multi-panel two page spreads. I bring this up because the multi-panel two page spreads in comics are pretty unusual. Having them become a regular part of this comic’s formula is destabilizing, like the characters existence.

Near the end of the first volume it’s revealed that Walter is capable of altering his friends’ memories, and has been doing so for a while. It turns out, some of them have had more to do with building this cabin and it’s rules than they are comfortable with consciously knowing. This leads to the second volume having something of a reset. The format is slightly tweaked and things rush toward a scenario where maybe the characters will have more control over their lives.

As I said earlier, I was unfamiliar with Martínez Bueno’s work coming into this, but now I can say that I am a fan. His work is sharp, but with a sense of wash giving an easy to read sense of movement. It could be water color, but in an almost impossibly controlled way. He designed  Walter to wears glasses that block the view of his eyes, even in his shifty alien form. However, there are other characters who also wear glasses where their eyes are clearly visible behind them. A great way to constantly remind the readers that he’s not quite who he says he is. My only complaint about the character design is that two of the female characters, Norah and Sarah, are a little too similar in appearance, a fact not helped by both characters being chain smokers.  But most importantly the house of the title really does look like it would be an awesome place. That is, If it weren’t for the circumstances surrounding everything. 

[purplesurveys]

1755

Millennial survey In which a Gen Z-er takes over a survey meant for millennials 😜

What year were you born in? 1998.

Do you remember a time before smartphones and social media? Yeah, of course. I'd talk to friends mostly through landline or text; memorizing the program schedules per channel was the norm because streaming and on-demand stuff were pretty much nonexistent then; and playing outside was the best way to have fun with friends. There was also still the element of surprise when watching...well, pretty much anything, because there was no concept of spoilers unless you had access to the (early days of the) internet, which had been damn near impossible to use anyway because of how expensive it used to be.

I remember when Friendster, Multiply, YouTube, and Facebook all started getting popular and it being very exciting because the concept of social media didn't exist til then and it was like discovering a new world that I thought I'd never get tired of, lol.

Were you part of the generation that experienced the transition from dial-up internet to broadband? Yes. We had dial-up up til the early 2000s and didn't get a taste of broadband until around 2008 - 15 years ago. That noisy dial-up sound is permanently etched in my brain.

Did you grow up watching Saturday morning cartoons? I absolutely did. For some reason they kept the actual entertaining shows in the early morning, so that's how I learned to want to wake up early even on the weekends to catch them. I hated the Nick Jr block they had on in the morning and always skipped over it unless Hi-5, my only favorite, was airing.

Do you have any memories of using floppy disks or cassette tapes? Not floppy disks, but I am very familiar with cassettes since our first family car had a cassette player. My first Beyoncé album is a cassette and I wasn't able to get the CD version til, like, well into the 2010s because it was the first time I saw the CD in the wild haha.

How did you communicate with your friends before the advent of text messaging? Landline.

Were you a fan of any particular boy band or girl group during your teenage years? Ok this is 100% where my Gen Z card would show because my answer to this would be One Direction hahaha.

Did you ever own a portable CD player or a Walkman? I had a CD player and my own radio.

What was your favorite video game console when you were growing up? PlayStation 1 and 2. I had always wanted to try playing on the GameCube but we never had one.

Did you ever use AOL Instant Messenger (AIM) or MSN Messenger to chat with friends? Not those, but I did have Yahoo! Messenger for a time.

Were you aware of the Y2K bug and the associated concerns leading up to the year 2000? No, I had been too young for that whole thing.

Did you ever rent movies from a physical video rental store like Blockbuster or Hollywood Video? I didn't.

Were you into MySpace or LiveJournal during the early days of social networking? I made a Myspace because I had heard of its popularity, but quickly realized that it was only popular in the west because what was big here instead were Friendster and Multiply. LiveJournal yes, I did do a few attempts to start blogs and stuff but I always ended up abandoning them after 1 or 2 posts.

What was your first experience with online shopping? I only started online shopping in like 2017 - the Philippines caught on pretty late. Before that I would either have to go to an actual store to get something, or ask my dad to buy something for me whenever he was in the US.

Did you ever participate in a flash mob or witness one in person? I've done neither.

How did you discover new music before the rise of streaming platforms like Spotify? It was mostly through either recommendations of my favorite celebrities or word of mouth in school.

Were you a fan of the "Harry Potter" book series or the "Twilight" saga? I was never into Harry Potter but I was obsessed with Twilight (still am, lol). I caught on to the hype in 2008 when the first movie came out – quickly breezed through all the books and got to watch New Moon up to Breaking Dawn Part 2 in the cinema.

Did you ever have a MySpace profile and customize it with HTML and CSS? I didn't do HTML on Myspace but I definitely did on Tumblr. This is where I learned all my website customization knowledge tbh.

What was your favorite TV show or cartoon during your childhood? In early childhood, my favorite was without a doubt Hi-5. I was hooked and I remember feeling so distraught when I graduated preschool and realized I was never gonna get to watch Hi-5 again once I'd start grade school and have full-day classes.

Growing up more I started to gravitate towards shows like Drake and Josh, The Suite Life, and That's So Raven. Apart from those, Spongebob also remains a favorite no matter what age I get.

How did you feel about the transition from traditional television to streaming services? It was hard to grasp at first. I remember in 2020 when my dad was asking us if we can get rid of cable and I felt genuinely scandalized lol like why would we ever get rid of cable when it's been part of our everyday lives since even before I was born??? Anyway, my siblings and I eventually gave in when we too realized that we never even went through the cable channels anymore.

Streaming services are definitely the 'new' way of consumption now and my family has fully eased into it - we're subscribed to Netflix, Disney+, and Prime Video. I don't have too many strong feelings about this topic, but if anything it does feel extremely bittersweet whenever we'd hear a channel permanently sign off for good – recently it had been NatGeo.

[happygolinds]

back again for the first time in many years. I find myself so locked in my head at times that I figured I might as well blog it out so I can go back and reflect. I’d start a journal but the idea of my partner finding it in our library one day terrifies me. Which also makes me rather sad that I feel the need to hide these things from him but I just fear he wouldn’t understand. Not truly at least. So I’ve blocked everyone on here that I knew irl and left some old mutuals in hopes that you all are still doing well if you ever end up back on these accs. I’m not sure how long I’ll keep at it but may it be a sanctuary for as long as I need it to be.

It’s been almost two years since I finally started to come out of the brain fog that was being weaned out of a medically induced coma. Almost two years since i found out the worst news of my life. The thing about comas is it really isn’t how it is in the movies, memories arent quite so black and white. The more recent years came back in a snap when I found out of my friends passings, I could remember that night, the weeks prior, pretty much every major project I had worked in the few years before almost immediately. Their smiles, their laughs. Their frustrations and joy. Their passion and pride. I hadn’t ever known heart break the way I felt it that day, but it’s something I’ve carried with me every day since.

In the following days I saw old friends who brought thousands of photos from all different lifetimes of mine. And man are there many. Slowly but surely things pieced together, but even still there were fuzzy spots left and right for a long while. I only remembered my Xbox password just a few months ago because my phone number was changed during my hospital stay to avoid calls from the media. Oh was that one annoying. I remember the first time I’d popped onto Facebook after getting home, suddenly rushed with hundreds of faces I knew but couldn’t place without further snooping. Ex’s I had genuinely forgotten even existed, really only left with a general feeling from seeing their faces without individual memories attached. Photos help place things but it’s really a rather funny feeling. To hear stories and reminiscence without fully believing what you’re hearing because it’s just blank in your mind. It doesn’t stop me from being open to old friends, I think it’s so fun to hear where people have been, to hear them talk about their passions. It’s been weird too though, I still hold so much love and passion for my work as a contractor to the parks but it’s obviously so overshadowed by the accident. It’s hard to pull out my portfolio knowing how the pyro side of the company was such a shit show, but it still doesn’t change how hard I worked and how I had finally started being recognized for it. Sometimes I allow myself to wonder where I’d be today had that night not happened, would I still have pushed to get that position at epic universe? Or gone to Disney under AD? Or would I have stayed where I was comfortable, traveling left and right for a job that was killing me one way or another. My life today looks so different, and not even in the ways I was told in the hospital. I have my body back, my hands and legs, my strength and flexibility back. Even my hair is past my shoulders again. The life back in my cheeks. Instead I find myself in my new fkn car, my new home. Space to have my loved ones come stay comfortably. Space to have my own room outside of my bedroom, filled with all of my favorite hobbies, books and trinkets. Space to find the things I love and want once again.

And somehow, some days, it feels even more empty than before. Not in my home but inside of me myself. Like parts of my heart and soul were ripped away that day. Like I had finally found the people I had searched my whole life for, just for them to be suddenly ripped from my grasp. It’s a gift to walk this earth, to be alive enough to make mistakes, earn regrets and still, somehow keep going. It’s a rare gift to learn how to properly bare your soul to other people, and it’s even more rare to have those same people be able to do it back to you. I have shown every color I’ve ever been to these friends, and still been loved all the same. I’ve found friends who’ve come from ‘families’ just as fucked up as my own, who’ve managed to pull themselves out of it and find lives worth living. Who showed me I was allowed to keep on living even after detangling myself out from the grasp my adopted family had on me. I found people who saw me for me, and never allowed me to waver on seeing it for myself. Who fought me long and hard to remind me every day that I was deserving of so much more than that ‘family.’ And losing them will always be the worst thing I’ve ever had to go through. But it will also always be the day my love and respect for myself was solidified. Unshakable and unbreakable. The very day I recognized my own voice, louder than anyone else’s for the first time in my life. The day I recognized these people for who they were, my soulmates, destined to intertwine with mine one way or another. Destined to find mine once again one day. In this life or the next. But that day, the same day I also call arguably the worst day of my life, was also the day something changed within me so deeply and profoundly. When I had finally woken up and taken back my life again. My love. My heart. And my soul. Something no one, especially family, can ever take from me. The best parts of me.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Welcome to Too Much Information Tuesday. (Although this could have been Too Much Misinformation Tuesday!)

In New York, adultery is illegal.

A fart travels about eight inches per minute.

In Texas, you can’t own more than six dildos.

One species of African crocodile moos like a cow.

In Haddon Township, New Jersey, flirting is illegal.

Tequila heated to 800ºC can be made into diamonds.

In Iowa, kisses may last for no more than five minutes.

In Utah, you cannot marry your first cousin until the age of 65.

The first high-speed train project in Indonesia is called WHOOSH.

Sleep deprivation will kill you more quickly than food deprivation.

60% of the requests to ban books in US schools come from just 11 people.

In Michigan, you get five years in prison for seducing an unmarried woman.

41% of the French public is in favour of a limit of four flights per lifetime.

Having books or plants in your Zoom background makes you seem more trustworthy.

Older people who eat cheese have higher cognitive functioning than those who do not.

Donald Duck comics were banned from Finland because he isn’t wearing any pants.

The English word ‘set’ holds the Guinness World Records for having the most definitions.

Murphy's law: What can go wrong will go wrong. Cole's law: finely shredded raw cabbage with a salad dressing.

Married couples whose first child is a girl are more likely to get divorced than those whose first child is a boy.

Unlike most Western homes, the value of houses in Japan depreciates by an average of half every ten years.

Nearly 70% of Americans have less than $1,000 in their savings accounts, 34% of those people have no savings at all.

A 2019 study found that tree-planting is 40-times less effective at carbon-removal as letting existing forests regenerate.

There are so many different types of apples, if you were to eat a new one every day, it would take almost 20 years to try them all.

Beaver College, Pennsylvania, changed its name to Arcadia in 2001 because anti-porn filters blocked access to the school's website.

Studies show that walking through a doorway causes memory lapses, which is why we often walk into another room, only to forget why.

In 2009, a South African family won the right to stay in British Columbia because it was the cloudiest place they could find and they were allergic to bright sunlight.

In 1999, a man bought a shipping container for $400 to use as a bridge. Ten years later, he opened it and found a $2,000,000 Canadian warship engine inside.

In the Middle Ages, Oxford students were so violent that they made the city England’s ‘murder capital’. The murder rate was about 50 times higher than in English cities today.

The start of the theme tune from ‘Mission: Impossible’ starts with two beats followed by two half-beats. If translated into Morse Code — two dashes, two dots — it spells out the letters M and I.

After sex, the male rat emits a series of low-frequency calls that is thought to signal to the female rat that he is not yet ready to have sex again. It is called a ‘postejaculatory song’. (I know that tune!)

Stalin's guards were so afraid of him that no one called a doctor for over ten hours after he had the stroke that killed him. They feared that he might recover and execute anyone who acted outside of his orders.

Thomas Coke (1754-1842) spent six years travelling Europe and sent treasures back to his estate using acorns as packing material. The resulting oak trees produce leaves that are now fed to London Zoo's giraffes.

The Japanese water scavenger beetle can survive being eaten alive by a frog. Once the beetle is in the digestive system, it stimulates the anus so it can be excreted and escape unharmed. This can take as little as six minutes.

The Marshall Islands is the only country on Earth without a national football team. The Marshall Islands are a sprawling chain of volcanic islands and coral atolls in the central Pacific Ocean, between Hawaii and the Philippines.

In a 2016 survey Americans were asked which famous non-presidential figure they would like to see added as the fifth face on Mount Rushmore. Donald Trump was ranked fifth, below Jesus Christ but above Mickey Mouse.

In 2016 the remote Japanese train station of Kami-Shirataki was scheduled to close, until the authorities realised that a single student was still using it for their commute to school. They rescheduled the closure until after she graduated.

Okay, that’s enough information for one day. Have a tremendous and tumultuous Tuesday! I love you all.

[pcttrailsidereader]

Seven Summers

In his forthcoming book about completing the PCT in the course of seven summers with his brother-in-law, Glenn, author Bob Welch recounts the ups and downs of their quest. It was not without serious challenges . . . from injury to fire to snow and family needs . . . but they did finish the trail.

I selected this excerpt not because it touched on one of those challenges but because it reflects on a very real part of life on the trail. When walking the trail becomes tedious, how do you spend those long hours of walking?

And the trail angel story is nice too.

I will review the book in a subsequent post.

THE MORNING broke damp and dreary. Though I’d fixed my broken trekking pole, my feet were blistered and hurting. And it felt as if we were trapped in a rain forest over which the sky no longer existed. The woods were dark, wet, and cold.

With nineteen miles to hike on this next-to-last day, one challenge was physical, the other mental; how could I find a “happy place” for my mind on a day that looked anything but that? Over the years, I’d prided myself in being able to do this—use my imagination to take me away from a pursuit that sometimes could be monotonous.

I credit that to two jobs I had as a teenager involving mindless work—raking beans onto a conveyor belt at a cannery and mowing lawns. They forced me to mentally detach. I would put together lists, add numbers, do anything to not think about bean-raking or mowing: Top 10 Crosby, Stills & Nash songs. Quarter-mile splits needed to run a sub-five-minute mile. Number of swaths my mower took to do the Sigma Alpha Epsilon lawn. Now, however, my cupboard of mental detachment was bare. Then, I found a morsel in the far corner of the top shelf.

“Glenny,” I said, “I’m going to interview you today about your entire life.”

“That’ll be good for five minutes. What then?”

“Hey, I’m a journalist. I got paid very average sums of money to draw out people’s innermost stories. I think I can get at least ten. So, what’s your earliest memory?”

He paused, then began. “A few: Reading comic books and playing football, our neighborhood guys against a bunch of kids down the street. My Uncle George lived next door and taught at South Eugene High and would come home with these castoff football helmets and pads, way too big, but we wore them anyway. We thought we were pretty cool.”

Hey, this was working.

“So, what was it like growing up with all your Lutheran cousins, aunts, and uncles on Royal Avenue?”

“Wonderful. I’d walk a block down to my grandmother’s house to have her read stories to me. I was probably five or six. Relatives all around the neighborhood.

We’d gather often, especially for Christmas. My uncles were always giving one another useless gifts. One year one of them put a couple of chickens in a box, wrapped them up and put them under the tree.”

“Like live chickens?”

“Of course! What kind of weirdo gives someone dead chickens for Christmas?”

I rocked the forest with laughter. Alas, all good things must come to an end and after a few hours of this exchange, Glenn’s life had pretty much been reviewed. We both returned to our regularly scheduled mindless hiking.

Click. Click. Click. My trekking poles tapped their way down the trail. Drip. Drip. Drip. The rain continued, my blister pain made worse by wet feet, which increased friction. Don’t think about them, I told myself, which, of course, made me think about them.

Every mile felt like five, every minute like an hour. We’d been on the trail for nearly 200 miles and nines day. As we crossed a Forest Service road at Tacoma Pass, a voice startled me to my left.

“Hey, mates, how about a hot dog?”

What? The words came from an Australian thru-hiker with a bushy red beard, a guy who seemed to pop out of nowhere like a bridge troll. He nodded to a royal blue canopy about 100 feet down the road, where half a dozen hikers were sitting on—oh, my gosh!—lawn chairs. Steam rose from a Coleman stove where a guy our vintage was joyfully grilling dogs and heating water for cocoa. Beyond him: tables of hot coffee, Oreos, chips, breakfast pastries, oranges, apples, pop, orange juice, a virtual PCT smorgasbord of fantasy foods.

“Are you kidding me?” I said, glancing back at Glenn.

“Trail Magic, Bobby!”

We’d encountered a few other people offering similar gestures, among them the Mount Adams Buddhists and a former PCT hiker trail-named Coppertone. But this was the most lavish Trail Magic spread I’d seen.

“Greetings,” said the man at the grill, white-haired and white-bearded.

“The name’s ‘Not Phil’s Dad.’ And you are?”

“The Oregon Boys, Bob and Glenn,” I said. “Thanks so much. This is awesome.”

“Happy to do it.”

Glenn stayed back, apparently not wanting to appear discourteous in accepting this random act of kindness. Me? Before his pack was off I had downed my first hot dog and was reaching for a second.

“So, what’s behind your trail name—‘Not Phil’s Dad?’” I asked.

“My son Brian completed the PCT in 2009. Because other hikers said he looked like Phil Collins and he had to keep telling them he wasn’t the musician, they dubbed him ‘Not Phil.’ So I decided to be ‘Not Phil’s Dad.’ I do this every year to honor him—to pay forward all the Trail Magic he got along the way.”

“That’s awesome. And where’s home?”

“Bellevue,” he said, referring to a city just east, across Lake Washington, from Seattle,.

“No kidding. I lived there the ’80s; I was a columnist at The Journal-American.”

“Small world. I’m retired now, but I was an administrator at Highland Middle School then.”

“On Bel-Red Road, right? My wife worked at Highland Christian Preschool across the street!”

“Sure! Saw it five days a week!”

Glenn soon joined the feast and the fun. Nothing enlivened PCT hikers more than Trail Magic, not only because of its spontaneity but because, deep down, it offered us “undeserved favor.” Grace. Goodness. The best of humanity, in this case wrapped in a hot dog bun and served by a heart-of-gold father in honor of his PCT son. What a cool gesture.

In the next half hour, I supplemented the dogs with a Pepsi, four Double-Stuffed Oreos, an orange, and a cup of hot chocolate. The stop energized me for the rest of the day.

[felicjana050896]

Whether they have chemistry or not is a matter of perspective, in my opinion they have great chemistry, from what I've heard in the basic version of the story Hely/Helen was not supposed to exist at all, it only existed because the creators wanted to complicate and diversify the story more, because in their opinion it was too simple, and the romance between Mark and Helly/Helen was implemented even later, when during filming it turned out that Adam and Britt have natural chemistry, so forgive me, but in my opinion this chemistry just pours out of the screen and is literally a trope of romantic stories from books, like she absolutely hates him at the beginning, throws a cup at him, tries to escape, tries various methods that he destroys, it is literally like a romance story from books like hate to lovers or enemy to lovers, and the fact that as you wrote ,,Helly has a week" is total nonsense…, as I have already explained in my posts, these are the SAME PEOPLE, only without memories, but they are still the same people and they have the same basic knowledge, skills, character, feelings, they even know what seal it is…, they only have blocked memories of their private lives or work, depending on where they are at the moment, so no Helly doesn't have a week…, these are not some scientific projects that are brought to life for the purposes of an experiment (or at least we can't think like that), these are LIVE PEOPLE and they are still the same people as on the outside, Helly is the same age as Helen, she has the same feelings, things that she has naturally learned, character, observations, this is her deep and true version, unlike Helen, who is tainted by the world, by her father, we could rather say that Helen does not have real feelings for Mark, considering that she interacts with him through the knowledge she has about Mark's relationship with Helly, but Helly has completely pure and natural feelings towards Mark.

Yes, Helen interacts with Mark through the knowledge of his relationship with Helly, but that doesn't mean that Helen and Mark can't love each other… Helly, as I've said before and I'll say it again, is the TRUEST AND DEEPEST VERSION OF HELEN, she's untainted by the world and her father, so the feelings that Helly has for Mark are the most natural, honest and true that can be, Helen, considering that she's Helly, because they're the same people, can also fall in love with Mark, in fact, she already loves Mark, she just doesn't know it, because that part of her experiences is blocked from her in Helly, but Helly and Helen are ONE AND THE SAME PERSON.

And again the same…, Mark is NOT TWO YEARS OLD!!! iMark is Mark, only without memories of his private life, they are the same age as their external versions, both biologically and mentally, they do not only have the baggage of experiences, but psychologically their personality, feelings etc., is at the same level as their outside versions, because they ARE THE SAME PEOPLE!!! However, as for being empathetic, what does that have to do with it…, if two people in everyday life are in the same team of employees, are they more empathetic towards each other, because they play with ,,one card" and fall in love, does the fact that they work in the same team and their initial empathy towards each other mean that this love is not real…, come on…, whether their love is real depends on common connections, on a similar sense of humor, similar observations etc., and not on what their interaction started with, that has nothing to do with it.

And no, it's not an unnecessary plot point, because Mark and Gemma's love, whatever it is, drives the main plot point, which is saving Gemma…, without it there literally would be no show, and then the relationship between Mark and Helly/Helen literally sustains the show, introducing the plot thread of Helly/Helen, which is supposed to show even more clearly that Helly and Helen are the same person, not two different ones, further outlining for us what severance is.

I literally wonder if you didn't read my posts in their entirety or if you didn't understand them, because the main clue I'm bringing up, leaving aside the Mark/Gemma/Helly(Helen) relationship, is that THERE IS NO IMARK, NOR OMARK, JUST LIKE THERE IS NO HELLY, there is Mark and Helena, the one and the only ones, only with separated memories.

Mark and Helly/Helena: Part 1

I haven't been here for a long time, I've had too little time in my life and too much work lately, and besides, apart from From, I haven't had any new obsessions lately, plus I haven't finished rewatching From yet and I haven't posted my theories about it, I'll probably do it before season 4 :D

But I went crazy about Severance this week, I have the last three episodes to watch, although I already know more or less what's going to happen and I know the ending, because I've spoiled myself, but I have some thoughts about the series and I just can't help myself and I have to write it down

First I want to start with the Mark/Helly(Helena)/Gemma triangle, well many opinions and comments about the series that I have read were posts by people who support the relationship of Mark and Gemma and want them to be together, completely forgetting about Helly/Helena, or mentioning Helena as evil, cruel etc., and the biggest argument in favor of this couple is episode 7 of the second season, which I have just finished watching, that is why I withheld my opinion until I watched it, because I thought that maybe there really is something in it that makes the relationship of Mark and Gemma above all else, but… no, no…, there is nothing there, of course there is their love story, but this love is terribly empty in my opinion…, the total opposite of the relationship of Mark and Helly/Helen, in which you can feel this fire and connection. In addition, there were comments where people claimed that the love of Mark and Gemma is the true, mature love, and the love of Mark and Helly/Helen is like a teenage crush, a crush that passes with time, and I wonder, after this 7th episode of season 2, whether people really cannot read true love…, whether they even understand what love is…, because it seems to me that they do not, because Mark and Helly/Helen have much more in common and their love is much more pure and sincere than the love of Mark and Gemma.

Besides, it seems to me that many people want Mark and Gemma to be together, just because they are still married, I have already seen such comments in other TV series or books, where two characters are in a relationship, but one character establishes a connection with another and it is more real, deeper, and people still root for the already formal relationship, even if it is on the verge of collapse, instead of the love that happened, of course I mean real love, connection, not someone getting crushed on the other person's appearance.

But let's go in order, first I would like to focus on Mark and Gemma's relationship, Mark and Gemma meet when they donate blood together, it's nothing special, of course it's a good thing, but what I mean is that it's not some mutual interest or anything, it's just an act of altruism on their part and Mark starts talking to Gemma because let's be honest he liked her…, there's no big beginning of love or anything, it's just a normal beginning that could happen in real life, Mark fell for Gemma because of their looks.

We know that Mark was a professor of history and Gemma was a professor of Russian literature, so they were teachers together, but they taught two different subjects and although Russian literature may be related to history, it's something completely different, not to mention that Mark specialized in the history of World War I, so completely different topics.

Throughout this entire episode 7 we don't see any of their common interests, we don't see any deeper connection between them, no common sense of humor, no reason why it could be called true love, of course it is and was love, but more ordinary, normal, everyday, the kind that starts with a fire, which quickly fades and over time turns into habit, such loves are normal in our everyday lives, but this is a TV series, not normal life, so it has to show something extraordinary, something we dream about, desire, fear, etc., and not normal, everyday things, because sure, such relationships can be and often are sweet and cozy, because they are a reflection of our normal lives, but they are boring… and they won't work in the plot, unless as a pious relationship, but not the relationship of the main character.

Mark and Gemma try to have a child and can't have one, then we see the cracks in their relationship, which are getting deeper and deeper, we see their disappointment, Mark really wants to be a father and Gemma wants to give him a child (or maybe she wants one herself, I don't really get into that, it's just that after she apologized to Mark when she had a miscarriage, I got the impression that she wanted the child for him more than for them, but I could be wrong). Now when it comes to a child, for many couples a child cements the relationship in a way, many couples, when they can't have children, sooner or later break up, first there is disappointment, then arguments, and then the breakdown of the marriage, that's what I saw in Mark and Gemma's relationship, we see how Mark literally dismantles the playpen for the child with anger and aggression, we see that their relationship slowly stops being what it was, that this love is no longer what it was at the beginning, because they lack one of two things: a child or a real connection. The series literally shows us the breakdown of their marriage and the fading of their love, how some can look at them after episode 7 and say "yes, it's true love, they have to come together"…, their relationship was literally on the verge of falling apart before Gemma disappeared, the fact that Mark was grieving over her does not prove great love, despite everything they probably spent a few years together, love, although not true and deep, was there, there was attachment, so it is normal that Mark was in despair, but it does not prove true love. Apart from that, Mark also in my opinion feels guilty for her death, because Gemma asked him if he wanted to go with her, she also asked if Mark wanted her to stay, but to both questions he said no, that he had a job and it was better for her to go alone, then this accident happens, in my opinion at least half of the despair that Mark feels after losing Gemma is a sense of guilt, he probably thought ,,I should have gone with her" or ,,I should have told her to stay in home". Examples of their breakups (

Mark and Gemma try to have a child and can't have one, then we see the cracks in their relationship, which are getting deeper and deeper, we see their disappointment, Mark really wants to be a father and Gemma wants to give him a child (or maybe she wants one herself, I don't really get into that, it's just that after she apologized to Mark when she had a miscarriage, I got the impression that she wanted the child for him more than for them, but I could be wrong). Now when it comes to a child, for many couples a child cements the relationship in a way, many couples, when they can't have children, sooner or later break up, first there is disappointment, then arguments, and then the breakdown of the marriage, that's what I saw in Mark and Gemma's relationship, we see how Mark literally dismantles the playpen for the child with anger and aggression, we see that their relationship slowly stops being what it was, that this love is no longer what it was at the beginning, because they lack one of two things: a child or a real connection. The series literally shows us the breakdown of their marriage and the fading of their love, how some can look at them after episode 7 and say "yes, it's true love, they have to come together"…, their relationship was literally on the verge of falling apart before Gemma disappeared, the fact that Mark was grieving over her does not prove great love, despite everything they probably spent a few years together, love, although not true and deep, was there, there was attachment, so it is normal that Mark was in despair, but it does not prove true love. Apart from that, Mark also in my opinion feels guilty for her death, because Gemma asked him if he wanted to go with her, she also asked if Mark wanted her to stay, but to both questions he said no, that he had a job and it was better for her to go alone, then this accident happens, in my opinion at least half of the despair that Mark feels after losing Gemma is a sense of guilt, he probably thought ,,I should have gone with her" or ,,I should have told her to stay in home", we even have a dog theme to emphasize Mark's guilt:

Examples of their breakups (attention, there will be an analysis of screenshots, a lot):

The first thing we have is this lack of a sense of humor, Gemma says she'll write him a yhank-you note, and Mark simply replies that she hates doing it and that's it…, no sharp tongue from Mark, no witty response.

The next thing we have is the moment of the fertility shot (I don't know much about these things, so I won't go into more detail), Gemma says she's nervous, Mark doesn't listen to her, he's focused on preparing the shot, we see here how much he wants a baby, so much that he's more focused on preparing the shot than on what his wife is saying. Gemma has to call him back, when she's doing it, she repeats what she said earlier, that she's nervous, and Mark instead of comforting her somehow, telling her that he's nervous too (like in the case of Helly/Helen:

and telling her that it's ok that she's nervous), in Gemma's case he replies that this is the last step and that there's a baby somewhere waiting for them…, he's literally focused on the baby…, not on Gemma, but on the baby…, we see again that the baby was more important to Mark than Gemma.

Next we see what I wrote about above, the first quarrels…, at the end Mark doesn't even ask how Gemma is feeling, he just says he doesn't know and it looks like he's not interested in it at all (because otherwise he would ask, be interested in her, and he doesn't do that).

The rest in part two, because I reached the limit of images:

[grantairezee]

why is every single tutorial a video now I'm going to scream

[transmasc-wizard]

Would you like to talk about mack?? :D

i WOULD

unfortunately, this will not be :D . this will be D:

tw : familial abandonment, drug use & dealing (doesnt go into huge detail but its mentioned), manipulation/shitty friends, depression, self-worth issues, self-destructive behaviour

so mack (it/any btw) is a character who is very convinced he has already gone through his Character Arc(TM) and doesn't need any more help with his issues. and like, he absolutely got over a lot of issues he used to have, but a lot of other ones were just... pushed down to a place where it can pretend those problems don't exist anymore.

mack was shunned by its whole family when they were turned into a vampire at 15 by their manipulative and shitty vampire "friends", and ran away shortly after. they almost immediately fell into a group of shady people, since that was what it was used to. mostly, these people broke a lot of laws to have a lot of quite-dangerous-in-retrospect parties. illegal fireworks, irresponsible drug use, dares like "play chicken but with cars instead of swings", that sorta thing. mack knew at least 2 people who died at these things and it was not uncommon for them to wake up six blocks away with a memory gap of several hours

this went on for 2-3 years, im not quite sure, until one day mack watched One More person die at a party and was like . hey . maybe this isn't a good use of my life. and he just... ran away again? not in the same way, but he just ghosted everyone she knew and had to start over. it had a lot of shady/sneaky skills from times it used to help w drug dealing, so it put those skills into working on not-super-legal issues but in a significantly safer context (essentially scamming billionaires).

at this time, around age 18 or so, Mack was also loitering a lot at a cafe frequented by university students. at this spot was where Mack met the then-20 and extremely optimistic (lmao) James, a first-year theoretical physics major. when James (Sufferinf w/ rent) realized mack was homeless, he offered to let it stay with him, and mack then officially had a living space ! hurrah. this was the point where mack went "okay so clearly i am now okay. i have a house, food, a less-illegal-than-before job, and am not actively and dangerously using drugs or doing horrifically reckless things. im normal!" and shoved all their issues under the rug

those issues included the fact that by this point mack was just. incapable of showing negative emotions, bc they thought no one would love them if they did bc they'd be too much of a burden. (this is heightened by the fact their chronic pain started at 17.) then there's also the insistence that their constant exhaustion, apathetic feelings, and deep fear of getting close to people is Normal And Fine, their fear of any person who presents themself as a parental or otherwise familial figure, their feelings that it's not worth anything if it can't make others constantly happy, and her inability to cope with anything that she doesn't know how to bullshit through.

by the time the story starts, Mack and James have collected 2 more roommates (Leah and Spacey) (and they will get Val next ofc). James is... significantly more tired and significantly less optimistic, which also makes Mack feel more like she's in control (like, see, even JAMES is doing bad! so surely it's just the average stress of life. i'm ok. never once does he consider James is just also crumbling till like halfway through the book, and that is actually a tense side of their friendship). mack is very very convinced that since it's not actively putting itself in danger twice a week, it's FINE, and no one has to WORRY, and--

then val comes along and kinda. forcibly makes him realize he is not ok. and funky story things ensue :3

[liriostigre]

hey! I wanted to ask what your favorite poetry books are? I have a few but I want to read new and interesting stuff, and I trust your taste :D

hiii ♡

tbh i only started reading poetry collections like,, last year. i'm subscribed to poetryfoundation's newsletter (poem of the day) so i usually just read random poems

anyway, i'm not sure my recs could be considered new (cause i'm gonna start with Mary Oliver ♡) but feel free to message me if you want to know the themes, style, feeling (vibes, if you will) or anything you want to know about these collections. for now, i'm linking my favorite poems in each collection, i hope this helps you choose! ♡

here you go:

Dream Work —Mary Oliver (“Wild Geese.” “Dogfish.”)

Red Bird —Mary Oliver (“Summer Morning.” “Love Sorrow.”)

Blue Horses —Mary Oliver (“To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song.” “Loneliness.” “Little Crazy Love Song.”)

The Wild Iris —Louise Glück (“Sunset.” “Retreating Light.”)

Haruko/Love Poems —June Jordan (“On a New Year’s Eve.” “Mendocino Memory.” “Toward a City That Sings.” *under the cut)

Extracting the Stone of Madness —Alejandra Pizarnik (“Primitive Eyes.” “Summer Goodbyes.” *under the cut)

Ariel —Sylvia Plath (“Tulips.” “The Rival.”)

Prelude to Bruise —Saeed Jones (“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat.” *under the cut)

Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth —Alice Walker (“Coming Back from Seeing Your People.” *under the cut)

I Must Be Living Twice —Eileen Myles (“Edward the Confessor.” *under the cut)

Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth —Warsan Shire (“Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre.”)

The Black Unicorn —Audre Lorde (“Hanging Fire.” “Sister Outsider.”)

Bright Dead Things —Ada Limón (“The Riveter.” “Glow.”)

Night Sky With Exit Wounds —Ocean Vuong (“Thanksgiving 2006.” “Logophobia.”)

Postcolonial Love Poem —Natalie Diaz (“Manhattan Is a Lenape Word.”)

Crush —Richard Siken (“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out.”)

Once —Alice Walker (“So We've Come at Last to Freud.”)

“Toward a City That Sings” by June Jordan

Into the topaz the crystalline signals of Manhattan the nightplane lowers my body scintillate with longing to lie positive beside the electric waters of your flesh and I will never tell you the meaning of this poem: Just say, ‘She wrote it and I recognize the reference.’ Please let it go at that. Although it is all the willingness you lend the world as when you picked it up the garbage scattering the cool formalities of Madison Avenue after midnight (where we walked for miles as though we knew the woods well enough to ignore the darkness) although it is all the willingness you lend the world that makes me want to clean up everything in sight (myself included)

for your possible discovery

“Primitive Eyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

Where fear neither speaks in stories or poems, nor gives shape to terrors or triumphs.

My name, my pronoun — a grey void.

I’m familiar with the full range of fear. I know what it’s like to start singing and to set off slowly through the narrow mountain pass that leads back to the stranger in me, to my own emigrant.

I write to ward off fear and the clawing wind that lodges in my throat.

And in the morning, when you are afraid of finding yourself dead (of there being no more images): the silence of compression, the silence of existence itself. This is how the years fly by. This is how we lost that beautiful animal happiness.

“Summer Goodbyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

The soft rumor of spreading weeds. The sound of things ruined by the wind. They come to me as if I were the heart of all that exists. I would like to be dead, and also to go inside another heart.

“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat” by Saeed Jones

I. Drugged, I dreamed you a plume of ash, great rush of wrecked air through the towns of my stupor. And when the ocean in your blood went toxic, I thought fire was what we needed: serrated light through the skin, grenade in the chest—pulled linchpin. I saw us breathing on the other side of after. But a blackout is not night; orange-bottled dreams are not sleep. II. I was a cross-legged boy in the third lifetime, empire of blocks in my lap while you walked through the door of your silence, hunting knife in one hand, flask in the other. I waited for you until I forgot to breathe, my want turning me colors only tongues of amaryllis could answer for. It owned me, that hunger, tendriled its way into my name for you. III. In a city made of rain each door, a silence; each lock, a mouth, I walked daily through the spit-slick streets, harbingers on my hands in henna: there will be no after Black-and-blue-garbed strangers, they called me Cassandra. (I had such a body then.) Umbrellas in hand, they listened while they unlistened. there will be no no. after

the world will end no.

you are the reason it no. ends

you no. IV. I didn’t exactly mean to survive myself. Half this life I’ve spent falling out of fourth-story windows. Pigeons for hair, wind for feet. Sometimes I sing “Stormy Weather” on the way down. Today, “Strange Fruit.” Each time, strangers find me drawing my own chalk outline on the sidewalk, cursing with a mouth full of iron, furious at my pulse. V. After ruin, after shards of glass like misplaced stars, after dredge, after the black bite of frost:        you are the after, you are the first hour in a life without clocks; the name of whatever falls from the clouds now is you (it is not rain), a song in a dead language, an unlit earth, a coast broken— how was I to know every word was your name?

“Coming Back from Seeing Your People” by Alice Walker

Coming back From seeing your people You were So wonderfully Full Of yourself.

But now You have supped With vampires They have fed Feasted On you.

They arise Bright-eyed Fit.

You alone have lost Not only Your sleep But also Your glow The luster of Affection Heart welcome Your people Sent home With you.

Beloved You must learn To walk alone To hold The precious Silence To bring home And keep the precious Little That is left Of yourself.

“Edward the Confessor” by Eileen Myles

I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It’s really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don’t do it well. She didn’t leave her wallet or us in a store. I’m just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It’s the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can’t quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. And there was— this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can’t do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don’t get out of here I’ll call the cops. Don’t call the cops we’ll go, we’ll leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn’t have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was scared too.