canon-typical-violence - Tumblr blog

[canon-typical-violence]

By FDASuarez

[canon-typical-violence]

Martin: So it’s a Lonely statement

Me: It’s what

Imagine the ocean.

Imagine being far enough out to sea that all you can see around you is blue and almost entirely flat. Your body bobs gently up and down with the moving peaks in the water that, in a hundred miles, will crash into empty space and be waves. One will be the first of a tsunami, and those after it will follow, but that is far away.

The bright treble of waves on the beach has subsided into a dull roar. But this sound is all around you; it fills your ears and, once given the opportunity, your mouth and nose.

You cannot see the shore, and you are drowning.

And yet your arms don’t move, your legs manage only lazy circling kicks to keep your eyes above water. It seems unforgivable to do anything more, to disturb the peace in this piece of a calm cycle so much larger than you or anyone else.

The sky is bright and cloudless, and there is no one who you could hope would see you.

In a little while, it will rain.

-

My next commonplace book’s nickname is ma-no umi. This is the progress on the back cover: a monologue I’m somehow still proud of (it’s circa Q2 2013, for perspective; I have always been like this) in tiny Rotunda and sparkling ink, the better to make calligraphy server denizens groan in horror. I feed on the horror, you see.

Behind-the-scenes perspectives: Between the prep, the text, cleanup, and ink washes, this is at least 20 hours of work plus drying time, spread over several months.

I wanted a book I could be proud of for a year.

-

Materials breakdown as follows:

Text: 1.5mm Parallel, Diamine Lightning Blue.

Embellishments: Herbin Ocean Blue, Robert Oster Heart of Gold.

Ink wash: Diamine Lightning Blue, Monteverde Carribean Blue, Noodler’s Lexington Grey, Herbin Stormy Grey, Herbin Ocean Blue.

Requests: up to 13 words // Commissions: starting back up // Donations: always deeply appreciated <3

[canon-typical-violence]

ayo I got tired of being anon because even if it would make my life less painful at what cost not being seen so look at my—

(There is an essay inside me on the subject of my fondness for character studies in negative space. I will get it out in my own time.)

anyway there’s more where this came from it’s just harder to balance when it’s not the one (1) scene that hit me like a freight train the first time

exercise the knack which you attempted to abandon

by Anonymous

Don’t say no because you can. It’s the opposite of both anything and everything you could want.

Words: 726, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of hail solitude, friend of the friendless

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Evan Lukas, Naomi Herne, The Lonely (The Magnus Archives)

Relationships: Evan Lukas/Naomi Herne, Evan Lukas & the Lonely (Magnus Archives)

Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Character Study, Marriage Proposal

source http://archiveofourown.org/works/17176070

[canon-typical-violence]

Modified Ronde, which is now my Designated Vast Hand:

He knows what the sky is.

With incalculable inchoate thanks to @flo-nelja, because I can’t link things in posts without tumblr shadowbanning the post so you’ll have to do your own followup here but that fscking fic—

Requests: up to 13 words // Commissions: starting back up // Donations: deeply appreciated <3

[canon-typical-violence]

stigma (aka “abuse of religious imagery”, part 2)

[canon-typical-violence]

It’s so damn true, though. My gut feeling is that enforced reverse-chronological display is right up there with link rot as a source of memory holes and failure to transmit (sub)cultural history. And it makes link rot worse, in the sense of making it harder to identify and archive what’s important. I can’t remember ever being unable to find major pages on someone’s kooky Geocities fan shrine, no matter how extensive some of them got–the very idea seems ludicrous. And yet “where was that post again?” and /page/12 are the default state of existence on the modern internet. It’s an active pain in the ass to build a site (in the loose sense that includes “account with pile of content posted to a larger platform”) that lists its contents in the order that makes the most sense to you organizationally.

None of this is to say we shouldn’t have activity feeds of recent updates–they serve their own purpose. But why must that be the main way to organize the permanent archive? Since we’re in a time of flux again and we’re wishlisting features for a Next Platform: let’s give people freeform collections back, dammit, and let them easily pick where in a collection something should go when they create it or add it. People who genuinely don’t care can fall back on reverse-chronological, popularity, or recent activity. But you’d be surprised what people care enough to organize, and how many of them will meticulously curate collections with whatever tools you give them.

[canon-typical-violence]

Have I told y’all about my husband’s Fork Theory?  If I did already, pretend I didn’t, I’m an old.

So the Spoon Theory is a fundamental metaphor used often in the chronic pain/chronic illness communities to explain to non-spoonies why life is harder for them. It’s super useful and we use that all the time. But it has a corollary.  You know the phrase, “Stick a fork in me, I’m done,” right? Well, Fork Theory is that one has a Fork Limit, that is, you can probably cope okay with one fork stuck in you, maybe two or three, but at some point you will lose your shit if one more fork happens.  A fork could range from being hungry or having to pee to getting a new bill or a new diagnosis of illness. There are lots of different sizes of forks, and volume vs. quantity means that the fork limit is not absolute. I might be able to deal with 20 tiny little escargot fork annoyances, such as a hangnail or slightly suboptimal pants, but not even one “you poked my trigger on purpose because you think it’s fun to see me melt down” pitchfork.

This is super relevant for neurodivergent folk. Like, you might be able to deal with your feet being cold or a tag, but not both. Hubby describes the situation as “It may seem weird that I just get up and leave the conversation to go to the bathroom, but you just dumped a new financial burden on me and I already had to pee, and going to the bathroom is the fork I can get rid of the fastest.”

[canon-typical-violence]

DO YOU HAVE COMPANY COMING OVER, BUT YOUR HOUSE SMELLS LIKE SMOKE OR YOUR MOLD EXPERIMENTS OR CAT PISS OR SOME BULLSHIT LIKE THAT?

WELL SLAP MY ASS AND CALL ME BRILLIANT, BECAUSE THIS SHIT ISN’T EDIBLE, BUT IT’LL MAKE YOUR HOUSE SMELL LIKE A GODDAMN CHURCH CHOIR SINGING HALLE-FUCKING-LUJAH IN YOUR NASAL PASSAGE! (YOU SHOULD GET RID OF WHATEVER’S STINKING UP YOUR HOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE AS WELL, MORON) RUN YOUR CLASSY ASS OVER TO THE STORE AND MAKE SURE YOU’RE PREPARED FOR THE MIND-FUCK OF THIS SHIT. YOU’LL WANT  1 ORANGE, A SMALL BAG OF CRANBERRIES, 3 CINNAMON STICKS, GROUND CLOVES, NUTMEG, 2 LEMONS, ROSEMARY AND VANILLA. THERE ARE TWO VERSIONS OF THIS THAT YOU CAN COOK, BECAUSE CLASSY-ASS MOTHERFUCKERS NEED VARIETIES IN THEIR LIFE! THE FIRST IS ‘CHRISTMAS’ AND THE SECOND DOESN’T HAVE A DAMN NAME, BUT IT’S FUCKING WONDERFUL.

ONLY HAVE ONE POT OF THIS SHIT GOING, IT’S CRAZY POWERFUL.

“CHRISTMAS” CHOP UP THE ORANGE, SKIN AND ALL, BECAUSE YOU DON’T JOKE AROUND WITH THIS SORT OF SHIT. USE YOUR WARRIOR STRENGTH TO BREAK THE CINNAMON STICKS IN HALF, LIKE YOUR CHILDHOOD MEMORIES OF SNAPPING THE FEMURS OF DRAGONS BEFORE YOU SUCKED THE MARROW OUT. THROW THE ORANGE AND CINNAMON STICK PIECES INTO THE POT, OR IF YOU’RE NOT CONFIDENT WITH YOUR AIM, YOU CAN SET THEM GENTLY INSIDE. SHOVE A SMALL SPOONFUL OF NUTMEG AND A SMALL SPOONFUL OF CLOVES INTO THE POT. THEN FILL THAT FUCKER UP WITH WATER UNTIL THERE’S ONLY AN INCH OF LEEWAY BETWEEN THE WATER AND EDGE, BECAUSE YOU’RE A DAREDEVIL MOTHERFUCKER.

NOW SET YOUR STOVE TO A LOW-MEDIUM SETTING, AND LEAVE IT SITTING THERE TO MARINATE IN IT’S OWN QUIET ACCEPTANCE OF DEATH. DON’T COVER THIS FUCKER, BECAUSE THE SMELL OF IT IS GOING TO INVADE YOUR ENTIRE GODDAMN HOUSE. THAT WHICH WILL NOT BE NAMED THE OTHER VERSION OF BOILING POTPOURRI  ONLY HAS LEMONS, ROSEMARY SPRIGS AND VANILLA.

RIP THE LEMON INTO CHUNKS WHILE SOLVING THREE UNSOLVED MYSTERIES IN YOUR HEAD AND YELLING AT YOUR FLATMATE TO LEAVE YOUR OTHER EXPERIMENTS ALONE, THEN BE A CHAMPION BY NOT USING A MEASURING TOOL WHEN SPLASHING 1 TABLESPOON OF VANILLA INTO THE POT.

TOSS IN THE ROSEMARY SPRIGS AFTER YOU’VE STARED THEM INTO SUBMISSION. FILL THAT SUCKER WITH WATER AND PUT IT ON THE HEAT.  

YOU LEAVE IT ON FOR 2 HOURS AT THE START OF THE DAY, THEN TURN IT ON AGAIN AN HOUR BEFORE GUESTS GET TO YOUR HOME AND LEAVE IT ON ALL EVENING. TAKE A WHIFF UP CLOSE EVERY FEW HOURS, BECAUSE THE FRUIT WILL START TO SMELL WEIRD AT THE END OF THE DAY AND THAT’S WHEN YOU TURN IT OFF.

WHEN YOUR GUESTS ARRIVE THEY’LL HAVE TO STEP BACK AND EXCLAIM “HOLY MOTHERFUCKING TITS, THIS IS ONE CLASSY HOME”

[canon-typical-violence]

the limit is 13 words I’m sure you can make me have regrets in 13 words or fewer

I cleared my requests backlog yesterday (and am finishing commissions today), and you know what that means:

Send me m o r e

(they’ll post individually over the next week or so, I just need to photograph and do image descriptions for each)

speaking of, desc.: this is a bunch of (mostly joke) requests on index cards spread out across my kitchen counter in a variety of colors and styles

if you live somewhere I can slap a stamp on them as postcards I’ll lacquer one and send it to you for $5

in the meantime askbox me requests, DM me for commission negotiations now that I’m back on my feet, or send tips with the info in my bio (under my blog title)

[canon-typical-violence]

Attempting to explain your organizational system to someone who doesn’t have adhd

[canon-typical-violence]

Redditor’s wife knitted a beautiful star chart shawl.

[canon-typical-violence]

this isn’t a “bad eyesight isn’t a disability corrected by glasses” post it’s a “wow my ADHD is disabling in ways that have nothing textually to do with itself” post:

I have a commission to do, I can’t find my fucking glasses, and I’m out of requests to distract myself with

Just staring at my own knees (roughly speaking) like “well it’s been fun knowing you”

(I have the equivalent of 20/800 vision in the eye I actually see with and my eyes don’t work in concert. Unaided I can see about eight inches in front of my face. Maybe a foot? Maybe.)

Update: I found my glasses, btw

[canon-typical-violence]

you’ll take my questionable religious imagery from my cold dead hands

[canon-typical-violence]

“if there is a light then i am going to swallow it. if there is a god then i’m going to make him cry.”

— s. osborn, from “blasphemies at the 5th street station,” published in The Rising Phoenix Review (via lifeinpoetry)

[canon-typical-violence]

I know this, and I love you

Source

For more posts like this, CLICK HERE to follow Ultrafacts

[canon-typical-violence]

[canon-typical-violence]

inflammatory essay no. 10, jenny holzer