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[amyvanhym]

A Very Empty Place

(Fic for Game of Thrones S7E3; ~3000wds; Jon&Tyrion) Jon didn't like his new chambers at Dragonstone. A moment ago, in exasperated pursuit of a crunching noise that chased every one of his tosses and turns, he had stuffed his hand down into the corner where the bed met the wall and pulled out a flattened corn husk doll. Half its face was smeared black, and a folded bit of parchment had been sewn to one of its hands as a book. The Baratheon girl had made the sad little thing herself. He got out of bed and set the toy gently upon the hearth's vermillion embers, where an ugly white instant transformed it into nothing and weightless ash. It could be worse, he thought, as he shoved himself back under the covers. He could be stuck in Arya's old bed instead, stuck with the pointy end of a dead girl's hidden needle. A soft knocking fell upon the lower part of one of the chamber's double doors. "So you are awake," it said. "So I am." "I've come in the hope that I might catch you without your armor, not that I would fault a man in your position for wearing it to bed." Jon rolled over, slammed his eyes shut and pulled the furs up over his ear — but he didn't really mean it. "Yes, I thought you would be difficult to woo." Tyrion must have been standing at the perfect height to speak directly through the keyhole. "I brought you a present. That is, I brought your belly a present. But it has to share." [Continued]

[amyvanhym]

Finished a Book: 'Dangerous' by Milo Yiannopoulos

An easy read. Pleasurable infotainment where it confirms my preexisting positions, but unconvincing where it tries to change my mind. Educational in a shallow way: I acquired some new facts but no new arguments. Milo is often right, sometimes funny and sometimes trite. He is the most right about the most important thing: freedom of expression. He is also a character, though his exact degree of fictitiousness seems to be a closely kept secret. It's important not to take him more seriously than he takes himself, maybe even less so. While Milo is not an authority, this book contains solid recent political histories, a few good stories and some giggle-worthy jokes. He gets GamerGate right (ch10), having been so close to the centre of it. The story of his US college tour is also a good read. Unfortunately he doesn't always cite sources clearly enough to make it easy for readers to double-check his claims, which readers should do whenever skeptical. [Continued @ Dreamwidth] [Continued @ Goodreads]

[amyvanhym]

That time a lobotomized Jerry wrote an episode of Rick and Morty

"Pickle Rick" was a groundbreaker: it was the first episode of Rick and Morty written for fans of Rick and Morty who hate Rick and Morty. Or at least, it was the first episode written for fans who hate Rick and aren't interested in anyone else. Beth flipped wildly back and forth between being a deranged jerk and being absolutely right, the kids were mentally retarded, Rick was plain, and Jerry was absent. All to make way for...

~*~ The Therapist ~*~

[amyvanhym]

Julian Assange, 8x7in, pencil

[amyvanhym]

Cream pitcher from life | 5x5in | 1hr | pencil

[amyvanhym]

Natalia Dyer | 7x10in | 5.5hrs | graphite

> My tin cup <

[amyvanhym]

Charlie Heaton | 8x10in | 5hrs | pencil HB 5B 8B

Tried to finish in 2h, managed it in 5. The art wants what the art wants.

[amyvanhym]

Finn Wolfhard | 2hrs | 7x7in | pencil HB 5B 8B

I am 95% satisfied with this.

[amyvanhym]

The Childlike Empress | 2hours | pencil

[amyvanhym]

Joe Keery | 4.5h | 7x6in | graphite

[amyvanhym]

Chapter 6 is up at AO3!

CH6: Morning ends the day

or

Start at the beginning

[amyvanhym]

I’m now publishing Beyond the Silver Rainbow in three places. Beyond the Silver Rainbow on AO3 Beyond the Silver Rainbow on FF.net Beyond the Silver Rainbow on Wattpad All three updated at least once a week.

[amyvanhym]

Treated myself to some basic art supplies a couple days ago and voila: my first portrait sketch in 4 years. Why did I ever stop? I love drawing! My DeviantArt

[amyvanhym]

Chapter 4 is now up. :)

[amyvanhym]

Beyond the Silver Rainbow

Mike heard Nancy sniffing as he walked to his room after brushing his teeth, so he approached the glow at the crack of her bedroom door. She sobbed dryly to herself, crying more quietly than he thought normal girls ever did.

"Nancy?" Mike put his eye to the light. His sister lay on her bed, facing the window and curled up in a ball so all he could see was her bony back and stringy hair. "...Nance?"

"Go away."

He wanted to. He was only trying to be nice and she was acting like a jerk. So Steve dumped you already? He could have said it. You didn't make out with him as much as he wanted you to so he found a new girlfriend, right?  "Nancy, come on." "Michael, screw off!" No wait, I bet it's the dragon breath, that's why he dumped you. I should tell Mom and Dad so they can ground you again for never brushing your teeth. Grounding her hadn't worked so they gave her special flavored toothpaste that smelled like bubblegum and Mike had never been allowed to have any. Sure it was a million years ago but it still sucked. He took a deep breath. They couldn't fight anymore. Nothing was the same anymore. He held tight to the doorknob and kept his fingers clear of the edge in case Nancy might launch up from the bed and try to slam it in his face, like that time she'd almost busted his nose over a missing (firecrackered) Barbie head. "We're supposed to tell each other everything now, remember?" "No we're not. We were supposed to when we were still trying to find Will and Barb, but now Will's back and Barb's gone forever so if you would just leave me alone please." "You don't know Barb's gone forever. She might be―" Nancy roared in frustration and bounced her bedsprings. Afraid she was coming at him, Mike kicked the door open and held out his hands to defend himself, but through his cringing squint he found she wasn't there. She wasn't even on the bed. She was gone. What if that scream had been― Oh no. "Uh... Where..." "I'm down here, stupid. Close the door." On the floor, Nancy's wiggling feet stuck out from behind the far side of the bed. Her pale pink socks were splattered with dried mud and the soles were brown. Mike closed the door until it clicked. "You can come in but don't look at me," Nancy said. Mike leaned on the curly white frame at the end of the bed with an elbow over it. "Why, did you grow a third eye or something?" "I've always had a third eye. It's how I know when you come in here and take my stuff." "I don't take your stuff!" "You took my dress for your girlfriend." Mike decided not to let the word bother him. His heart was still thumping a little too hard from that dumb scare a minute ago and he didn't want to give it anything else to wig out over. "Lucas found your dress in the basement. And you didn't know we took it until you saw her wearing it so I know you don't have a third eye." In her hiding place beside the bed, Nancy took a big, shuddering breath. "Jonathan has a third eye, in a way." "Huh?" "But now I have it." "You... What? You're being weird." "I found it on the side of the road." "You found Jonathan's third eye on the side of the road?" "Basically." "Nancy, are you on drugs?" Mike leaned over to see her laying on her stomach with her head in her arms. "Did Steve give you drugs? Is that what's wrong?" Mike thought Nancy had started crying again from the way she shook, but then she sat up, wiping her face with fisted sweater sleeves, and despite her red blotches and puffy lizard eyes she was smiling. Maybe almost laughing. "No you booger, Steve didn't give me any drugs." She leaned across her bed and reached under her pillow, then stopped to aim a harsh look at Mike. "Keep a secret? I'm dead serious." "Of course. I promise." "Dead fucking serious." "I promise!" "He gave me this." Carefully, and with suddenly shivering hands, Nancy pulled a black and silver object from underneath her pillow. A dangling strap, a tubular lens. Nancy's expression began to crumple, so Mike thrust his hands out and took the camera from her. She immediately folded her arms on the edge of the bed and hid her face in their nest. "Steve bought it for me to give to Jonathan for Christmas because his last one broke." Her voice grated. "Anyway, I gave it to him, but..." The camera, heavy in Mike's hands, was streaked with dirt like Nancy's socks. It felt expensive. Will's family was poor. He turned it over, inspecting it. The lens was broken, rattling around inside its casing, and the flash was bent to the side. "You found this on the ground?"

Read on @ AO3

[amyvanhym]

Spoiler alert for The Others. If you haven’t seen it, go see it right now. It is a beautiful, subtle masterpiece. I saw it for the first time last night and could watch it again right now, but first I think I’ll stock up on everything Alejandro Amenábar has ever done. This long still shot of Kidman and Eccleston clued me in to the twist a bit early, not that I’m complaining. The lower photograph to which I’m convinced it alludes is “The Kiss,” by Joel Peter Witkin. It depicts the head of a preserved cadaver, sliced in half down the middle and positioned so as to be kissing itself. The revelation I celebrated while watching is not just based in the position of Kidman’s nose and the stillness of the shot, but also the film’s earlier inclusion of post-mortem photography, as well as the way in which the eeriness of Eccleston’s open eye passes our suspicions about him on to his wife through the mirrorlike positioning.

[amyvanhym]

Did Zdzislaw Beksinski influence Final Fantasy 8?

I ran into Beksinski’s Wife Portrait today. Its striking similarity to that spooky flash-frame from FFVIII’s final cinematic got me thinking: Beksinski’s desolate landscapes are also similar to Squall’s purgatory. And something about Edea’s asymmetrical headgear evokes Beksinski’s more colorful work: foreboding magic imbues (and defiles?) semi-aquatic life forms as they grow into vines and lattices across ancient structures.

Time compression is the concept of condensing all of time and space into a single moment, or "singularity." [Ultimecia explains that] the party's very existences will be absorbed by the time compression causing them agony as their thoughts would be ripped apart with their memories fading away leaving them unable to do, think or feel anything. [Final Fantasy wiki: Time Compression]

Don’t Beksinski’s layered bodies look like they could actually depict a single living being’s timeline, compressed hellishly upon itself? The colorful pieces depicting multiple large environments within and surrounding relatively small structures also suggest a compression of space.

“Zdzislaw Beksinski is the only modern European artist to have had an exhibition in the Osaka Museum of Art in Japan. [...] In the 1980s [...] he gained significant popularity in Western Europe, the USA and Japan.” [source]

If these elements of FFVIII’s design (and even story!) were deliberately inspired by Beksinski’s themes of desolation, horror and disorientation, that might lend a little bit of extra credibility to the Squall’s Dead theory. But then, maybe it’s just that time compression is at least as scary as death itself.