#But then I accidentally made it part of the line-art; so consider it part of the practice lol

[chill-vibes-but-rainbow-panic]

More Pony Practice!

(Click for better quality, this turned out quite big)

Thank you so much to @alridpath, @thrivinghigh, and @cherubinym for letting me draw your OCs! It was a lot of fun, they all have lots of swag

[kiisaes]

tell us about vld 👁️

(only if u want to)

i'll spare you a truly unhinged ranting for perhaps another time (even though this is gonna be long anyway) but tldr: vld is a show that could have been really good if it just stuck to its direction from the first two seasons!!! and also if its crew didn't accidentally breed the worst possible fandom ever!!!

it had a really good identity at the start— its characters were entertaining, its art and animation were charming if anything, the VAs were genuinely excellent picks and in terms of story it was simple (considering it's a kids show) but effective. the first two seasons focused on one-off, character-driven episodes that gave room for a lot of character writing, team bonding, and tone establishment. i believe that the reason why vld shipping was already so aggressive since s1 — without crew interference — was because the character writing was like, actually good. good enough where people could take their starting characterizations + team dynamic and run wild with it

vld was never going to be an enlightening, mature, groundbreaking show about anything super deep; it's a Y7 show about robot lions in space. but i'm sure most ppl going into vld didn't expect a piece of art, they just wanted to have fun with an atla-adjacent show, or they watched previous voltron iterations. and for what it was, it was very successful at the start! and one of the more popular netflix originals at its time!

but then vld tried taking itself more seriously in s3, and changed its primary storytelling method. now the episodes weren't usually problem-of-the-week, but each episode's plot had to feed into the next episode in line. which would've been fine, if the crew planned ahead and kept track of its characters and plot

but since the lion switch was also conveniently during this season (which inevitably implied switches in character arcs), keeping track of everything suddenly got way harder. also, the lion switch was ass. breaking my silence: that shit made no sense. why didn't they make allura the black paladin??? why do all those mental gymnastics with moving keith from red to black and lance from blue to red just to give allura blue, which was a lion that didn't even really fit her??? (i know the reason was cuz dotf did this lion placement, but is vld dotf? are the characters archetypes the same? no? i didn't think so!!!)

anyway because of the new serialized storytelling format, vld had to follow this really serious, high-stakes, even occasionally dark narrative to keep viewers engaged, and it just .. wasn't the same? like not only are characters' arcs dropping like flies, we're introducing new characters with barely any development or even personality, and it's not even that fun to watch anymore. what happened to my silly guys. what happened to goofin off in the castle. what happened to episode-long missions. this is not avatar. if i wanted to watch avatar i would just watch avatar.

and! in later seasons i think the crew caught on to how fans loveddd the episodic narratives in s1 and 2, so they tried bringing back one-off lighthearted episodes (dnd episode, game show episode, clear day episode, etc.) in an attempt to relive the old glory— and they were fun to watch on their own, sure, but were completely detached from the rest of the story atp. literally the only reason why i even remember these episodes is because they weren't a part of the narrative's incomprehensible sludge

don't even get me started on how the crew hated its audience. don't get me started on the ship bait, the weird canon queerbait situation(s), the irresponsible encouragement of parasocial fan relationships with VAs, artists, creators, you name it. it's how we got one of The worst fandoms in recent history. it's how vld was one of the newer fandoms that started an whole new era of fandom etiquette — namely, disregarding all previous fandom norms in favor of the most childish, pearl-clutching, moral-panicky discourse you'd find daily, and consequently you wouldn't EVER dare bring up to a normal person who exists in the real world.

the crew hated its audience so much, it essentially punished its fans by shutting down all fan theories, purposefully writing AROUND plot twists THEY SET UP, leaving a really messy and plot-hole-filled final script. they especially hated the shippers so much that they shut down BOTH main camps — klance and sheith — for canon allurance, a truly horrible way to end both their character arcs since neither character gets all that satisfying of a conclusion (lance becomes a farmer, allura fucking dies)

this is already long enough but i hope this gives you a general idea :') i have so many emotions about vld. someday i'll make the retrospective video essay of my dreams. this was my nonstop fixation for two straight years. i wasted two years on this shit.

also this show's 8 seasons were released all in a span of 2 and a half years.

[tropes-and-tales]

Nothing is Certain

CW:  Heavy angst (character death); unrequited love; idiots in love; drunken confessions

Word Count:  3664

Other Pieces:  The final installment.  The first part is here, the second part is here.

A year passes.  Marcus doesn’t see you, doesn’t hear from you, and he tries to be okay with that.  He tries to accept that he was never a real friend to you and that you’ve made your choice to move forward in your life without him.

He tries to be okay with it.  He often fails, and he is tempted all the time to reach out, to find where you live, to accidentally run into you.  He knows that’s stalking territory, creepy behavior territory, so he doesn’t.  When the FBI needs an art expert and when they reach out to you, he always passes the communication off to another agent.  He refuses to cross that boundary.

He goes to therapy.  He gets a rescue dog he names Rothko.  He dates casually, but he finds the desperate drive to not be alone has died down a little.  He can be alone and be okay.  He doesn’t need to fall into one bad relationship after another.

He hopes you’re not alone.  He hopes you’ve found someone who recognized your worth the minute they saw you, and he hopes they cherish you every single day.

He considers that growth:  to pray fervently every night for your happiness instead of his own.  For the first time in his life, he’s considering someone other than himself.

-----

A year passes, and Marcus calls home every Sunday night to talk to his parents, but mostly his mother.

When his mother calls in the middle of the day on a random Tuesday, he knows it can’t be good news.  He answers, hears his mother say your name.

“Her dad died,” she says, and Marcus can hear the tears in her voice over the line.  “Just this morning.”

He sits down at his desk, hard.  He listens to the rest of it—how it was sudden, unexpected, a likely heart attack.  How there’s no arrangements yet, obviously, but how you’re already on your way home to Texas to be with your family.

“Mom, what should I do?” he asks, bereft.  He has no idea what to do.  Should he go home to Texas too?  Or should he leave you alone as he has been?

“Oh, honey,” she says.  “You know her best, but I can tell you:  moments like these make all the petty stuff fall away.”

Breaking your heart and mistreating your love for him hardly seems petty, but Marcus books the ticket home the moment he hangs up with his mother.  

-----

He knows he’s made the right decision the minute he finally sees you.

He goes with his mom over to your childhood home, his mom bearing a tray of tamales and him carrying a small flower arrangement.  Despite being friends as kids, Marcus rarely ever went to your house—you always went to his.  Your family was a step lower on the socio-economic ladder, and you had seemed embarrassed as a kid by how much smaller your home was, how much shabbier.  How your mom worked while his was able to stay home and keep their house clean and make homemade meals each night.

Your older sister answers the door, hugs his mom.  Takes the tray and the flowers with a murmured thanks, then calls your name.

He knows he’s made the right decision to come to Texas to be with you:  the moment you catch sight of him, you run straight to him.  Straight to his arms.

And for the first time in his life, he’s there to catch you.

-----

Marcus doesn’t have much experience with funerals.  Two of his grandparents are still alive; the other two died before he was born.  His parents are still alive.  He’s never lost a coworker in the field.

The closest he has is the death of his childhood dog, and that hardly qualifies.

When he sees you that moment at your house, he only holds you.  He murmurs against you that it’s okay, but then he stops because of course it’s not okay.

He says he’s there, that he’s got you, that whatever you need he’s there for you, and that seems better.

He leads you through the house and takes you outside into the backyard, and he urges you to sit on the steps of the back porch beside him.  He puts a tentative arm around your shoulders and you sag against him, grateful.

“No one saw this coming,” you tell him, your voice hoarse with tears.  “He just had a checkup.  Clean bill of health.”  You pause.  “They think it was a heart attack.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You start to cry again, quiet, as though you are exhausted.  You must be, Marcus figures.  Your world’s been upended, you probably threw together hasty travel plans, and now you’re in your childhood home, surrounded by your siblings and their young, noisy children.  Now you have to say goodbye and bury your father.

He sits with you like that for a long while.  He keeps his arm around you, takes your hand in his.  He keeps you tucked against him, safe, and he lets you cry until you can’t anymore.

-----

If Marcus has learned anything in therapy, it’s this:  he’s not always the main character of a moment.  Sometimes he has to step back, content himself with the role of a supporting character.

Which is what he does now.

Old Marcus would have forced himself into your family’s inner circle, pushed his well-intentioned kindness onto you and everyone else.  Which is why it was a tough thing to learn in therapy—because his intentions are always so well-meaning.  

New and Improved Marcus thinks of himself as being on standby.  Of waiting in the wings for his cue.

At the wake, for example:  he stays off to the side with his parents, but he keeps an eye on you.  When you seem to reach a point of…something, he pulls you out of the receiving line, takes you to the private room for family, and presses a glass of water onto you.

“You doing okay?” he asks, and you nod.  You drink your water and hand him the empty cup, then fix him with a grateful look.

“Thank you, Marcus.”

At the luncheon, for example:  he doesn’t get in the middle of it when you and your sister start to bicker.  There’s old resentments there; she stayed in your hometown while you went away for college.  There’s accusations of snobbery, of thinking you’re better than your family from her.  From you, there’s accusations of martyrdom, of thinking your sister is the heir to the family matriarchy.

Old Marcus would have stepped in.  New Marcus only goes to you when you and your sister part, exasperated with each other.  He only waits for you to make the first move, and when you turn to him with a look of despair on your face, he hugs you, tells you that everyone is just spread thin and grieving, emotions roiling near the surface.

And at the graveside service:  Marcus notices that your family is paired off.  Your mother sits with your older brother, your sister is with her husband.  Your other sister is paired off with her fiancée.  Only you sit alone, your hands clasped in your lap, your head bowed.

Marcus doesn’t sit beside you.  He hasn’t earned that right, but his heart breaks to see you alone, sealed off from any comfort.  

He sits behind you, his chair right behind yours.  He leans forward, puts his hand on your shoulder, and you startle, turn and see him.

“I’m here,” he says, his voice low, and you nod.  

Then you unclasp your hands and reach one out to him.  You reach back and he reaches forward, and he holds your hand tight while your father is laid to rest.

-----

Afterwards, the two of you go for a walk.  You’re restless—relieved for the ceremony of burying someone to be over, but exhausted from the grieving…and dreading the grief to come.

“What can I do to help?” Marcus asks, and you shake your head.

“Just being here…it means more than you know.”

“It was the least I could do.”

You start to say something, then shake your head.  You walk another few blocks in silence before you finally offer, “I’m sorry about how I left it with you.  At the coffee shop.  After the Jerzy painting.”

“Hey, no, don’t even—”

“I was mean about it,” you interrupt.  “You were trying to tell me about Theresa—”

“And you didn’t need to hear it,” he cuts in.  “You weren’t mean at all.  You were standing up for yourself.”

“No, I—”

“Stop.”  Marcus stills, and when you do too, he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you to face him.  “You gave me the kick in the ass that I needed.  I stopped feeling sorry for myself.  I started therapy.”  He pauses, then adds, “I finally realized how badly I’ve treated you.”

“Marcus—”

“No.”  He shakes his head, squeezes your upper arms.  “You did a good thing that day.”

You look skeptical.  “It doesn’t feel like it was good.”

He smooths his hands down your arms, then takes your hands in his.  It makes his stomach flip:  all the times he touched you in the past—the hugs and incidental touches—and it was never like this.

“I needed to hear it.  I took you for granted for so long.  You are…were my best friend, and I treated you terribly.”  He pauses, sighs.  “I’m sorry for never being there for you.  For all the things you’ve done, amazing things, and I wasn’t there to celebrate you.”

You squeeze his hands and offer him a soft smile.  “You’re here now.  That counts for something.”

-----

Your father’s death and its aftermath…it’s the beginning of your reconciliation.  

You return to your friendship, each of you different than you were before.  You’re sadder, still grieving—but more willing to speak up, to not blindly follow him.  He’s more self-aware, more deferential to your needs.

Back in D.C., you rekindle your friendship.  You text each other; you get lunch together.  You ease into it, but before long, the two of you are going to galleries together.  Going for walks with his dog.  Exploring the touristy stuff in D.C. that you both had missed before.

It’s the most miserable Marcus has ever been.

You loved him as a teenager and carried that love well into adulthood.  It had been a precious gift he squandered as he chose women like Chloe, like Theresa.  You had loved him, then mourned him, then moved onto a true friendship with him.

It’s a tragedy, then, to Marcus—how he falls in love with you far too late.  How he only falls for you long after that bright light you carried for him has been extinguished and replaced by a chaste camaraderie.

And worse than being miserable, he’s trapped—because now that you’re friends again, he can’t go anywhere.  He can’t ghost you, he can’t fade away.  Every lunch, every text is the same:  the same fluttery feeling in his stomach, his chest…then the sinking feeling, the sick-to-his-stomach feeling.

Now he finally knows what you had gone through, all those years before.  Karma can be cruel in her neat simplicity, Marcus finds.

-----

Six months pass.  A year.  You return to Texas for the one year anniversary of your father’s death, and Marcus stays in D.C.  He stops by your townhouse every day to feed your cat, bring in your mail.

Alone in your space, he allows himself to wallow a bit.  Your home is so perfectly you:  warm and cozy, neat.  You have, unsurprisingly, an excellent eye for color, for lines, for the art you hang on your wall.

Marcus goes from room to room, checks the place out.  The bedroom smells like you, the light coconut scent of the lotion you wear.  The giant, ragged sweatshirt you wear around the house hangs over a chair, and he scoops it up, takes in the cozy scent of you.

It’s easy to pretend that this is his home too, that you’re only at work and will walk through the door at any moment.  That you’ll make dinner together, eat together, swap stories about work.  That maybe you’ll crash on the couch, put the T.V. on and he will rub your feet or you’ll pull his head into your lap, finger-comb through his curls.

He doesn’t even allow the fantasy to extend to the bedroom.  He never lets it get that far.  It’s difficult enough to even imagine the mundane, day-to-day intimacies.  To imagine loving you like that, taking you to bed and being joined to you…then surfacing to his sad reality…it’d be too much.  It’d break his heart entirely.

-----

Marcus knows you go on dates.  You mention them obliquely sometimes; you pass on plans with him because you have “a thing” or are “meeting up” with someone.  You never say the word “date,” and he wonders if you can guess his feelings for you and are trying to spare him the pain of knowing you’re going out with other men.

He goes a single date.  It’s a friend of a coworker, and she’s lovely and funny…but the date goes miserably.  Marcus can’t summon up his usual charm.  He can’t stop thinking of you, in your townhouse with your cat, curled up on your couch.  Probably reading, in your pajamas and your ragged, oversized sweatshirt, bare feet tucked underneath you—

Marcus is as miserable as he’s ever been.

-----

He’s trapped.  He has no idea what to do other than suffer as he has been.

It’s a sweetly torturous suffering, because he has you back in his life.  His oldest, dearest, best friend.  The girl who sat beside him in art class, who grew up to be a woman who makes him laugh, who bolsters his flagging spirits.  Who gives him a soft place to rest when he’s tired or heart-sore.  Who cooks her signature buffalo chicken mac and cheese when he needs a comfort meal.  Who sketches ridiculous little caricatures of him and tucks them into his coat pockets, the glove compartment of his car to find days or weeks later.

-----

He resigns himself to a lifetime of this:  of being your friend, of never having you completely.

Isn’t friendship better than nothing?  Isn’t a half-life better than none?  Aren’t washed-out watercolors better than no color at all?

He settles into the sweet pain of this life, and he succeeds for months.  The pain becomes familiar and loses its sting.  He learns to live with it.

But ultimately, he fails.  Of course he does.  The heart wants what it wants, and Marcus wants nothing so much as he wants you.

-----

It happens that you both spend the holidays in D.C.  It is unplanned, but his unit is shorthanded and he can’t spare the time to go home to Texas.  You have a project you’re working on and can’t leave either and besides—the coolness between your sister and you remains, and you don’t feel especially welcome in her home for the holidays.

“We should do our own thing,” you suggest, and of course he agrees.  There’s no plausible reason why you shouldn’t—hell, even his dog and your cat get along, curling up together after chasing each other when he brings Rothko over.

You plan a sleepover on Christmas Eve.  Marcus packs an overnight bag, brings Rothko.  It’s so similar to those nights when he was getting over his divorce and you were working through your thesis.  He slept over a lot back then, slept on your couch and woke up to you making him breakfast.

For Christmas Eve, the two of you keep it simple, homey.  You make a big pot of spaghetti, split a bottle of red wine for dinner.  After dinner, Marcus does the dishes and you mix a pitcher of tequila sunrises.  Then the two of you retire to the living room to watch old movies together by the light of your Christmas tree.

Marcus can blame any number of things.  There’s the atmosphere—dark except for the colorful lights of your tree and the light of the television.  The room is warm, and he’s in comfortable clothes.  You’re in your pajamas (and old sweatshirt), curled up on the opposite end of the couch from him.

There’s the movies themselves.  You both love old movies, the old black and white screwball comedies and romances and thrillers.  Hitchcock mysteries.  Cary Grant, Katherine Hepburn, Bette Davis, Jimmy Stewart.

There’s also your pitcher of drinks.  You always pour with a heavy hand, and when added to the wine from dinner, Marcus finds himself well on his way to being drunk without even meaning to.

But the evening is a perfect representation of his deal with you now:  close, but so far.  You’re within arm’s reach, and yet you may as well be miles away.

He gets through most of “Sabrina.”  He watches Audrey Hepburn fall for William Holden, then Humphrey Bogart, watches Bogart fall for Hepburn and think himself too old, unworthy.  Getting more and more drunk, Marcus makes it all the way to near the end, when Bogart tells Hepburn to suppose he was younger, suppose he was his brother, suppose he had the courage to ask her to join him in Paris—

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until you look over at him in alarm.

“Marcus, what—”  You untuck your legs from under you and shift to kneel by him, your hand on his shoulder.  “What’s wrong?”

He can’t look at you.  He’s ashamed and depressed, and a year’s worth of misery and desire come spilling out in equal measure.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, and he tries to keep his voice level but he knows he sounds hysterical, a man standing at the edge.  He knows he sounds drunk too, slurring his words just enough to be noticeable.

“Can’t do what?”

“This.  Us.  I l-love you, and I fucked it all up, and I thought…thought I could just go back to being friends again, but I f-fucked it up so bad and if I hadn’t been so fucking s-stupid, we’d already be m-married.  I would have married you, not Chloe, not wasted time with Theresa, and now I’m miserable all the fucking time—”

“Jesus,” you breathe out, but you put your hands on his face, cup his cheeks and steer his face to look at you.

“Marcus, you’ve been miserable?” you ask, and your voice sounds so sorrowful, your eyes look so sad that his own eyes fill with tears again.

“You’re my dearest friend,” he tells you.  He hooks his hands on your wrists, and he can just feel your pulse under his thumb, fast and solid.  “You…you mean more to me than anyone.  I’m just…I’m just sad.  That I messed it up and can’t f-fix it.”

“Oh.”  You gaze at him; you brush your thumbs softly against his cheekbones.  “Marcus, I never went anywhere.”

“Huh?”

“I’m right here.”  You sigh, then shift one hand to stroke through his hair, finger combing through his curls just as he imagined.  “You’re pretty drunk, aren’t you?”

He grumbles, “you use too much tequila.”

He’s too drunk to understand the look on your face.  He’s too deep in his feelings, too far gone in his fear of losing you.  You sigh again, then take your hands from him.

“How about I get you a glass of water, and then we can start a new movie, okay?  And maybe we can pick up this conversation once you’re feeling more like yourself.”

-----

You switch off “Sabrina” and put on “Blazing Saddles,” and as Marcus rapidly sobers up, he works out how he’s going to escape this horrifying, mortifying evening.

He’s FBI.  He could, say, throw himself out of your living room window to escape.  Do a neat roll on your front lawn, then spring to his feet, take off running for shelter.  He’d have to leave Rothko behind but after his humiliating admission, it’s every man and dog for themselves.  

The reality is more mundane.  He sits forward on the couch, his hands on his knees, and he mutters that he should get going.

“You aren’t staying?”  You sound surprised, and a little hurt too.

He can’t even look you in the eye.  He stares forward, off to the side, at your tree.  “I don’t think I can stay.”

“If you…if you only said those things because you were drunk, we can just forget it, okay?  Nothing has to change.”  Your voice wobbles on the last word, and he glances back at you to see your eyes wide, shiny with tears.

Well, shit.  Now he’s made you cry.  Again.  Who knows how many times you’ve cried over him in the course of your life, and here he is again…making you cry on Christmas Eve.

“I meant those things,” he say solemnly.  “Of course I meant them.”

“And you think I don’t feel the same way?”

He raises his hand, drops it in a gesture of helplessness.  “Why would you?”

“Oh, Marcus.”  You reach out, take his hand in yours.  “Do you really think I just stopped loving you after that day in the coffee shop?  Really?”

He snorts, shakes his head.  Bitter.  “I would have.”  

“Well, I’m not you, then.”  A long pause, and he chances to look at you—you’re gazing back at him with the same big doe eyes, shiny with tears.

“I never stopped, Marcus Pike.  I don’t think I could if I wanted to.  Even when I hated you, even when I very much disliked you, I still loved you.  Still love you.”

What other choice does he have?  He leans forward and kisses you:  the girl who sat beside him in art class who became his dearest, oldest friend who became the love of his life.

[kulapti]

Cover construction for The silent isle imbowers, July-Aug 2023.

Finished binding here.

Materials shown: metallic gold and matte black heat transfer vinyl with cricut-cut designs, cricut-cut paper stencil, acrylic paint, bookcloth made of cotton + drawing paper backing + Lineco PVA glue. Calligraphy by quillingwords, flower art and cover construction by me.

————-General tips on how to make smth like this:

Steps in order were (1) have bookcloth, (2) cut and paint stencil, (3) cut and weed both HTV layers, (4) apply black HTV, (5) apply gold HTV, (6) add paint detail with paintbrush over the vinyl, (7) apply bookcloth to cover board.

This is not a beginner-friendly design LOL. Be like me and try most of the steps by themselves on other projects first.

I drew this design knowing how the sections would be layered, and which materials (and therefore colors) would go with each layer. Achieving a similar result with a premade design will likely require editing in a digital art program.

Test how your materials will layer before committing to a complex design. In this case I discovered that the type of bookcloth I made actually helps conceal the adhesive spread under the black HTV.

Layering HTV over small sections of acrylic paint works! Cannot confirm the result if you were to use large painted sections.

PSA This black layer with many very small pointy bits is at the extreme limit of what I think is possible to weed from machine-cut HTV. A different material might work better, and I got a lot faster at weeding the second copy than the first one, but some of this is just a technical limit. The gold section worked great but I would not recommend this for the black.

Layering HTV is much easier to do uniformly with a heat press! Check if your local library or maybe an art class studio has one you can use before doing smth like this with your iron.

Paper stencils are easy to make with the cricut but don’t try to use them for anything with small details. The above example is pushing it despite being very simple shapes. Stick-on stencils are better.

Tiny HTV design tip: designs with jagged sections and very thin lines are hardest to weed successfully. Smooth curves are much easier.

Scale all pieces of a stacked design on the same drawing program and within the same canvas in cricut so they layer precisely.

Cut tiny HTV designs with the washi paper setting on a cricut. I did not find this out myself but I can confirm the results! Using the HTV setting will cause the blade to catch on and pull up small sections of the design while cutting, ruining parts of the design.

—————-Tiny HTV design weeding tips:

For the love of cheese do not try anything this complicated the first time you use a cricut. or the second. you will cry

Seriously consider trying both HTV and cricut stencils before doing anything complicated like this. I wish I had at least attempted the black layer as a stick-on stencil.

This isn't a weeding tip but again you better cut this with a washi setting.

Use a very sharp weeding tool, good lighting, and consider a magnifying glass

Be prepared for this to take several hours, especially if you have never done a tiny piece before.

Important! The cricut does not perfectly cut out designs, leaving very small connected sections around the design at various locations. This is almost unnoticeable on large designs but can ruin tiny designs very easily. Be prepared to hold down the “keep” sections of the design with tweezers or a fingertip while pulling or trimming off some of the “remove” negative space.

Do NOT attempt to pull off all the negative space in a single piece. Either add dividing lines to your design for the machine to cut, or use a sharp tool to scrape them yourself. You are much less likely to accidentally remove part of your design if you weed the design in distinct sections.

[mcytblr-archive]

Early MCYTblr Interviews: umbie

today's interviewee is umbie, who was a member of ebblr from march 2021 onwards. i would like to once again ask everyone to remain impartial and respectful-- this blog is a place for all MCYTblr history, which includes parts of the fandom that were more controversial. that said, let's begin!

Q: Since I realize not everyone knows-- would you mind explaining what exactly ebblr was, to the best of your ability?

A: Ebblr is an abbreviation for Enderbees Tumblr. It existed as a network of undiscoverable blogs where folks shipped and truthed beeduo romantically. It ebs truthing started at the beginning of 2021, late 2020 on plate's blog gayminecraftmen, who you did an interview with, then moved to jason's blog on mcytruth, and later decentralized into a collection of blogs rather than being headed by any one person. It also became a place to discuss mcyt shipping and truthing in general- we didn't ship minors with adults, but things like techza, techbur, benchtrio shipping. character or irl, we didn't discriminate. The core of it was ebs, though.

There was also stuff like neurodiversity and gender truthing. really anything thats gauche to talk about on main.

Q: What was your general experience in MCYTblr? What was your general experience in ebblr specifically?

A: Mcytblr was very... enveloping, is how i'd put it. Easily the strongest hyperfixation i've ever had. It was also pretty frustrating at times. 2021 ebs was the height of the /p era, when the characters were off getting minecraft-married and the outside fandom insisted on them being platonic. We felt crazy. Ebblr started from blogs like mcytruth and gayminecraftmen, but I think the reason it blossomed into its own independent community was because ebblr addressed a need that mainblr, at the time, did not. I think it's facinating how in hindsight the fandom has ever so slowly turned around on the romantic c!beeduo, and now it's just kinda normal.

Being in ebblr was rewarding and enriching, but also very anxiety-inducing. We had pretty strict rules around interaction- keep your blog invisible, no cishets (lol), no nsfw, no outside reblogs. It started about after the first blocklist as a way of avoiding harassment, but developed into a moral thing later on. We existed in a kind of grey area where we understood that what we were doing was weird, but we wanted to be as inobtrusive as possible. In the early days, i made an effort to follow everybody. The community was that close-knit. Whenever a member of Ebblr accidentally reblogged an ebblr post to their mainblog, i would hop onto an alt and message whoever I needed to clean up the leak so none of our posts escaped.

Q: In critblr and dreamlying, there was a culture of "doxxing", or otherwise finding personal information about creators. Was that also true for ebblr?

A: Nope! That's one of the primary differences between critblr, dreamlying, and Ebblr. One of our rules was to keep our posting limited to things the creators released on purpose. That didn't stop us from being invasive, though. We diligently kept records of our "proof." We would obsess over details, and considered anything said on social media, stream, or twitter space fair game, even if better judgment was that they're not things the content creators would want talked about. It wasn't a monolith. A lot of folks didn't truth at all, and only wanted a space to post art or fics of pairings that were unacceptable on main. I also tracked planes during the meetup times, but jury's still out on whether that constitutes doxxing. I also had enough sense not to post about it directly. While most of us were uncomfortable with outright doxxing and distanced ourselves from those who did, we sure could walk the line.

Q: You said in your initial messages that you coined the term "critblr". Could you elaborate on that?

A: Dlying existed before ebblr, but Critblr did not! Critblr started out as a subsect of ebblr.

Critblr was conceived of in a discord server i shared with a couple friends that joined at the same time as me! It was meant to exist as a solution to formalize a growing rift within ebblr. There were blogs that were more involved in things like discussing doxxes and criticizing content creators and mainblr/maintwt opinions, and there were folks who were exclusively interested in shipping and/or truthing. Ebblr was upset with negativity and complaining, and the blogs who would become critblr didn't care for the shipping. It started as a place where you could discuss things you couldn't discuss on main, but people's needs became different. I remember the poll to name it. I suggested and vouched for critblr. Since the server's been since deleted, you're unfortunately just gonna have to take my word for it, but i'm part of the reason it's not called truthblr and I'm proud of that.

Q: This has actually been really clarifying for me; I knew ebblr and critblr were similar and intertwined, but I didn't know the specifics! I suppose, knowing that, what are some things that you remember about critblr in specific?

A: i understood critblr as a sort of anti-mcytblr. whatever opinion was widespread and popular on main, critblr was the place where you could find someone with the opposite opinion. it was a haven of haters, trolls and gossips, and it was really fucking funny. they loved having rivals- back in the summer of 2021, they/we had a "war" with fltwt. (at least in terms of what jason was up to. i have no idea how its developed now.)

honestly a lot more of the ire of critblr was directed at mcyttwt than it was on the ground at mcytblr. (although in 2021 the boundary between critblr and ebblr was still pretty loose and even as an ebblr main i was aware of all this, i'll say critblr for ease of communication)

another note about eb-critblr. it was extremely white. some of the rhetoric bouncing around on critblr at the time was kind of in the vein of "arent these twitter kids so sensitive for being upset with schlatt"

i think i also want to make point about how a lot of the truthing was kinda unserious. sometimes people dont have clips or evidence or info sometimes truthing was just projecting onto a content creator and feeling it in your heart. The instinct to truth, i think, came from a place of wanting to relate to the streamers. See yourself in them, their relationships, and their mental struggles. still, It was soaked in irony- there was this sort of untouchable jester attitude, and the less seriously you took yourself, the better. I think people cared a lot, though, and that ended up being the problem. There was a lot of pressure to be certain, which is fascinating coming from a space built on speculating on incomplete info. im sure other people in ebblr had very different experiences than I.

Q: Would you mind explaining what fltwt was?

A: fltwt came into being in summer 2021, when ranboo got doxxed. jason mcytruth had already stopped caring about ebs by now, so most of his and his associate's energy went into researching, exposing, and clowning them.

you need to understand that they were like. an abberation to us. we had been doing good honest truthing and shipping in our private corner since the new years, and here these twitter chucklefucks were throwing doxxes around and using them to truth with. they were like our evil twin. we hated them so much.

[all names have been redacted for privacy]

the reason my url is glowfr0g in this is because i changed my url after this interaction, but i have screenshots with my url as umbie aswell. we were SERIOUS.

since beeduo stopped hanging out like a week into the summer because of the doxx, the truthing in the community diversified a lot. one of such truthings was Clemtruthing- or transfeminine tommy truthing. fltwt straight up stole this from us, screenshotting and circulating our posts, and now theyre more known for it than we were. the blog mentioned here, [REDACTED], deactivated over this.

i think at one point fltwt was doing a popularity tournament and mcytruth was entered in as a contestant? but what i did here was hardly the only example of eb-critblr butting heads with fltwt. the demographic was largely bored twitter ranboo fans. yknow the "im literally neurodivergent and a minor" meme? that was popularized because of THEM. also that text interaction is dated july 30 2021

fltwt was, partially private i think? but overall not well organized at all and a lot of people on there were attention seeking. i have no idea how much these subtwts were actually invested in ebblr or critblr, for all i know it was extremely one-sided

Q: Was it an interesting experience to be in a niche community that regularly experienced "containment breaches" and blocklists? How did that affect the community's growth?

A: I kinda appointed myself the manager of the containment breaches! I had a whole process. If a mainblr blog reblogged a post, i would contact them on my umbie blog. Since they reblogged it, they were probably a lurker and i could ask them directly to take it down. However, if any of the mainblr blog's mutuals reblogged a post, i would contact them on an alt instead from the perspective of a concerned bystander that just wanted you to know that you had accidentally reblogged one of those posts from those weird shippers. Worked every time. I took pride in it.

There were really only a few blocklists? The first blocklist, what most people would know ebblr from back in the early days, got ebblr so much attention that's how most of the folks within it found out about it (including myself.) There were one or two scares after that, but nothing serious. I only ever got on one, and that one wasn't shared publicly. We still made a big show about having everyone temporarily change urls though. We didn't really want to be well known. Anybody who knew about ebblr understood that it was for the best of both communities if people kept quiet.

Q: How did the "boundaries" discourse affect your community?

A: we danced around with boundaries. Back when we were making fun of main for platonic marriage, a lot of us were loud about the fact that neither of them had called it a platonic marriage until the fans started doing it. We weren't technically breaking any stated boundaries, but i think part of why we were so loud about it is because we knew on some level that it was a cope. When the boundaries were finally stated and the truth that we were being weird all along was unavoidable, it was fucking DEFCON 1. A lot of people left ebblr over it, and a lot of people were like "wait, you didn't know we were breaking boundaries?" The community had boundaries, but they were not the same boundaries as the content creators.

Q: Were you ever involved in any main MCYTblr events?

A: nope. we wanted nothing to do with main mcytblr. We stayed aware, though, and made fun of them whenever things went sour.

Q: Do you think being in ebblr was an overall positive or negative experience?

A: mixed. so mixed. so incredibly mixed. The anxiety of me or my friends getting exposed or discovered kept me up at night. I was constantly conflicted about whether or not i was doing the right thing while also reassuring people that we definitely were. Our proximity to the darkest parts of minecraft fandom means i've seen and learned things that I wish I hadn't. When Beeduo went no contact it was uh. It Was Bad. It Felt Bad. We Felt bad, and I felt partially responsible. it's hard to know if that's true.

At the same time, I've met some of my best friends on there, ones that I keep in contact with to this day! Being on ebblr taught me a lot of critical thinking- I now understand that twitter isnt right about everything always. Being known and liked as Umbie helped me safely built up a sense of identity there that has brought me into the best chapter of my life so far, and experimenting with pronouns was also really really nice. For all the late nights and callout posts and blocklists and moralism and bullshit, i think i will be chasing the high of the vindication that i got when ranboo came out on twitter for the rest of my life.

You can call us a lot of things, but you can't call us incorrect on that front, and as truthers go, that's kinda rare.

[umbie was kind enough to also send me the following image-- this is the "enderbees" flag, seen in the yellow/purple rainbow, as it appeared on Karl Jacobs's stream of 2022 r/place! You can also spot the L'manburg flag, the Snowchester flag, and one more I can't identify.]

[edennill]

Comparative Studies, or Twice on the Verge of Falling  

The Rimôn fresco of Elwing is considered to be one of the greatest artworks of the Late Classical Era. Found in the courtyard of the old Helcaril Villa (itself a marvellous example of architectural trends during the reign of Tar-Elendil), it occupies a relatively modestly-sized, but excellently exposed niche across from the entrance. Aside from the considerable fame the artist had later gathered, it remains remarkable both for its vividness of emotional expression, contrasting to the usual art style of the era, and for the number and fame of its copies.  

The best known of these is the one gracing the lesser courtyard of the villa Surë-or-Falmar. Indeed, the glory of the two is so closely interwined that it seems impossible to ascertain which had contributed to the fame of the other more. And yet the effect of the copy wildly differs from that of the original artwork.

The Rimôn Fresco depicts the figure of the young Elwing standing on the cliff with her back to the churning waters below. She is poised halfway toward the drop, as if on the verge of throwing herself in, one hand clasping the Silmaril at her neck. Wind whips at her torn dress and loose hair. A rarity among artworks confronting the subject, it depicts neither the enemy she is facing, nor the the transformation into bird itself. The figure stands alone - and seems strikingly young. Beholders oft remark that it is hard to believe she is meant to depict a wife and a mother.  

The wild and violent atmosphere of the fresco, even though, as with most Classical works, it depicts no blood, and despite the aforementioned lack of actual fighting shown, made its artistic quality fall under scrutiny in its day. From diaries, journals and letters of the period we can, however, see that it proved intriguing enough that people would come visit the Helcaril Villa only to see it in person - and that it won over many of those who were originally critical. Thus it is difficult to ascertain whether the changed nature of the Surë-or-Falmar villa Fresco was intentional on the part of the copyist, or the sign of an inexperienced hand.  

The name of the copy's painter has unfortunately escaped history. The style is typical to the reign of Tar-Meneldur, though an exemplary of its genre rather than a dull attempt at imitating fashion. The colour combinations are soft, slightly more so than in the Rimôn Fresco, the lines clean, and the light hazy. The figure depicted is in the exact same position as that in the original artwork.  

Viewers of both frescoes predominantly agree, however, that despite the technical skill the painter has exhibited, the Surë-or-Falmar Fresco lacks something of Rimôn's Elwing. The posture is just a little less dynamic; the cliff's edge (perhaps unconsciously or accidentally) removed slightly father from Elwing's feet, making her situation seem something less desparate. The wind's effects hardly seem those of a real gale, and more an aesthetic choice. One of the most interesting judgements has been pronounced by Herunimon of Eldalondë in a letter to his cousin, Rilendur, son of Verahil, dated 24th Nárië, 901: "The S.o.F. figure seems less the Lady Elwing fenced in by foes and making a tragic choice, but more the heroine of one of those new romances, unsure whether to flee the scene after a man has confessed his love to her, or to accept his proposal - or, I hardly know, perhaps such heroines lead more exciting lives than I would guess (...) - but anyhow, the fresco seems more like a coloured plate in a rich novel, than a mural depcting a tale of the Elder Days. All in all, there is not one element which does not fit. But taken together, the effect is incongruous." (Collected Letters, volume II, as accessed from the Royal Library in Romenna)  

(from the Romenna Journal of Artistic and Literary Studies)  

***

Editor's note: Remembering the considerable public outcry after the publication of Songs of the Elder Days: Lyrics, History and Analysis, the University of Romenna along with its subsidiary organisations seek to make it understood that the views of authors, as regards the addition or not of Lord and Lady before the names of Lord Eärendil and Lady Elwing, do not necessarily represent its own. Were the University to be flippant, it might also seek to ask why proper respect being accorded to the Lord and Lady seems to be held in greater importance than that it be accorded to the Valar, but the University understands that this would bring on public outcry against it from people on both sides of the moro-political divide, so it shall keep its silence.

[takaraphoenix]

PJO Episode 1 Thoughts

Spoilers ahead, huh.

Positive things first:

I love that Percy draws, and draws pretty well (for a 12 year old). I don't remember him being an artist in the book series? But the idea of him coping with his strange monster visions by drawing them is a nice addition.

Sally is a treasure, the actress brings such a motherly warmth to the role.

I loved Sally sitting in the rain with that expression on her face, you could feel the yearning for Poseidon. Never really got the "still hung up on Poseidon"-vibes in the books, but I still loved that moment for how well it was conveyed.

I do think that Grover is perfectly cast. That kid embodies the anxious and nervous energy I want from my Grover.

For very obvious personal reasons, I will be cherishing and including the fact that Percy plays Mythomagic from hereon out.

And, on that same note, I wonder what's up with the di Angelo name-drop. Maria is dead, her kids are in a magic casino, so is this just completely unrelated to our di Angelos and a bit of a wink wink nudge nudge, or is this actually going to pay off once we get to the di Angelos...?

I did love the "Why is there half a goat in your pants?" line and enjoyed the whole "getting to camp/expositioning" scene. It had the needed dramatic gravity. And Sally making Grover swear an oath. I liked how it was all played, enacted and written, it bodes well for the dramatic moments in the future.

Also the credits are stunning. The art, the designs. Honestly made me feel a lot of disappointment that we didn't get a cartoon adaptation of PJO, because I do still think that would have been a more fitting medium for this.

Now here's the things that bothered me:

Considering that this was episode one, titled "I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher", the vaporizing was... not very central to be quite frank? She jumps him in broad daylight, one stab later she's gone. A little bit of a chase, more of a confrontation, to make this seem a bit more significant, would have been nice.

Also damn, the gaslighting of a 12 year old hits way harder when it's live action and with actual kids, than when it's written in a book.

My biggest problem so far: I hate, hate, hate what they've done with Gabe. I hate it. They neutered him so hard.

It's been a couple years since I read the first book, but I remember how utterly uncomfortable Gabe made me. I know this man abused Sally, and it was always implied also Percy.

But this man? Is... just a pathetic loser. He lets Percy completely walk all over him, he gets pushed around by Sally. I remember the "I'm borrowing your car"-scene from the book, because it was a tense scene, because it didn't feel like a given, but this...? This was just... pathetic. That's the only word I have for it.

The character of Gabe Ugliano is so formative to Percy pre-series, and the way they changed him to make him look silly and non-threatening is... frustrating.

I honestly had no idea who got cast for Chiron, that one somehow went fully past me. I think the actor is... a little old. He has the warmth that Chiron needs, but with his 76 years he brings it more in a grandpa way than in a mentor way. Chiron should have been in his 50s, if pushing it in his 60s.

And while I did like the dramatic weight of the parting scene, I also do think that... Sally's sacrifice is... less heavy than in the books? Like, they stand there and yap for minutes, while they could have just gone ahead and been safe at camp in that time, and then Sally dies and Percy and Grover still just stand there and watch instead of going to the safety of camp. It felt very avoidable...

[thebreadvansstuff]

Omg! Something with Louis bending harry over a table and spanking him? For the snippet! If you’re comfy with it ofc 🫶🏽

Warning NSFW!

There is nothing Harry enjoys more than a good spanking. On one condition; that he deserves it.

It's exhilarating, being punished in the most painful yet pleasurable way.

Sometimes he'll mess up on purpose, just for the sake of being spanked, but the most thrilling sessions start with Louis setting him up for failure.

Much like today.

Harry had felt neglected for the better part of the day since Louis was hidden away in his home office, grading his students' papers. Naturally, he could only take so many hours of being ignored, before he barged in and demanded attention.

Louis had given in with the sigh, pushing his chair back and giving Harry some space to kneel in front of him. Harry had gratefully pulled Louis' pants down and taken him into his mouth.

"No funny business," Louis warned, "and don't make me hard." And then he was back down to work.

It was satisfying for the both of them; a comforting weight on Harry's tongue and a warmth wrapped around Louis.

Considering Harry's practice over the years, there was no doubt he had perfected the art of it, managing to stay still enough for Louis to go on about his tasks seemingly without being distracted.

So, Harry couldn't have guessed today would be the day Louis got hard in his mouth.

He tried to relax his muscles and soften his tongue, but to no avail.

Before he could pinpoint what was wrong with his technique, Louis was pulling him up by the hair, spitting out his reprimands.

"What did I say?" he growled, his face mere inches from Harry's.

Harry stuttered for a good minute, trying to come up with an explanation for accidentally disobeying Louis.

The next thing he knew, he was bent over Louis' desk, pants pooled around his ankles as Louis laid slap after hard slap on his ass.

"You don't get to do what you want," Louis spat as he spanked Harry hard enough to push him forwards into the desk.

He now had no leverage to support his upper body, cheek pressed against the hard surface, and ass stinging with each punishing slap.

"But, daddy -" he whined, his protest interrupted when another smack made him cry out.

"But what?" Louis asked as he pinched the skin he had just slapped, earning him a shriek from a trembling Harry.

"I just -- oh, daddy, yes," Harry moaned, feeling himself starting to drip on Louis' desk.

When the spanks stopped coming, and Harry's ass felt satisfyingly tingly, Louis bent down and pulled Harry's pants up his legs.

Harry quickly stood up, whining as he looked over his shoulder. "Daddy, I'm hard," he complained with a pout.

Louis gave him a shrug, smirking as he snapped the elastic band of Harry's pants across his hips and over his leaking cock.

"Fuck," Harry gasped at the pain, closing in on himself.

"Oh baby," Louis cooed mockingly, "You're not coming at all today."

Send me a line, and I'll write a snippet!

[blueshykitsune-blog]

Huh seems I'm not the only one to have the thought to use the app i mentioned before so... here's Randall I guess.

Okay well let me ramble a little first.

So I do have artwork I made of Randall myself but I forgot to put a signature on them and it's only the lined art I think and well I dunno where the one book with Randall in it fully colored is right now (If it was Randall I dunno right now.) And I think I may have accidentally deleted my pixelart one.

However I really wanted to Show people Randall or the best design I got right now as I haven't gotten to drawing him again quite yet and I might do that tomorrow. Maybe.

Okay so the second image has blood like splatter in it. Or it's what it looks like and was made in vision of a maybe scrapped part of his story. Dunno if I'll add it in or not as I redoing some of the later chapters and making what I had read be pushed further down in the number of chapters.

Anyways Randall ❤ below ⬇️

Ahem so this is Randall and I used to make the design placement for now was this app called Monster Girl Maker 2, made by Ghoulkiss.

It might not be on all devices and well it's good app for when you are having artblock, need references for your own characters, a place to put down a multiple character designs that are test designs, or plenty of other things. Although mostly make feminine or female based characters as it has very limited male potential but makes sense if you look at the name of the app.

Sadly there's limits and there's a few things you'd have to pay to use but it's fine even without those just limits what you can do. And like I've mentioned before I myself usually use it for references or when I wanna have a character design for a character when artblocked or unable to draw for reasons.

Anyways onto Randall he uses He/Him pronouns and is cisgendered, he just occasionally wears dresses, skirts, and clothes many considered for females or feminine. Of course normally not in public at least not at first. Maybe later he will even if forced.

He's very Bunny and I mean I quite literally made him a full bunny version before because he was just so adorable. If you can't tell I love him.

He does have scars too which can be hard to add in that app because there limited stuff I can do with scars as of now so when I actually draw him I'll likely have a better display of his scars if I don't forget them again like I have in the past accidentally.

He's honestly quite poor, like he literally looses his job within the literal first sentence He's introduced and it just explains how he's beyond broke for the first while before... well that's spoilers.

He loves alcohol and is quite addicted to it. He's bisexual with a huge lean towards males. He's not religious and quite honestly might be Atheist I haven't thought about it much.

No I'm not using AI for him. If you see one of him ignore it, actually report it if you must. I hate it, the AI. But if I ever do say I asked him I'm literally just consulting the Randall who is like permanently in my brain now because yeah... he ain't leaving. No AI. (I'mallowing myself one... okay two swear word useage here, okay? <This is to myself everyone>) Fuck AI especially chatbots and art bots! FUCK THEM! <Only "AI" I accept is the ones that control you enemies in games. And I don't fully count them as what we call AI now adays.>

Back to Randall he is my comfort bunny and I pretend he's real as he really does help comfort me. If I can imagine him well enough or occasionally when I get too sad, he helps a lot. Like imagine hugging a 4'9 to 5'0 guy in a dress that has a bunny tail sewn to it and he got some bunny ears on just to make you call him you bunny boy because he loves it.

His name came from a random name generator <I think ciuld be wrong it was like 2 years ago> and well he became a very complex layered with a story, personality, and more. He's basically a complete person if not for me not adding a few things to him... and the very conflicting kink he has which can be explained by @hiddeninsideaninsanemind if you must know what his kinks are I guess... <why would you?>

Anyways Randall. One of my favorite characters! Yes he's my character and I might go force someone to take down stuff relating to him because I never gave them permission and still don't. They even stole my account name... or a similar one so yeah I have a two year beef with someone because of stuff and they dared mess with my comfort characters!

Yeah anyways ignore ghat last paragraph. You all got to see a simple design of Randall. Of course gotta say not my art and I only saw Ghoulkiss on Instagram so if you wanna go find the artist that's them and they are the one who made Monster girl maker and Monster girl maker two. So yeah... go check them out as they pretty cool artist honestly.

[netherworldpost]

I hired a business consultant with a report delivery of Friday end of day.

Because they are an Actual Professional it came on time and was very thorough and complete.

Because I am a Cartoon Professional I changed my email password immediately after signing the contract so I wouldn't obsess.

Then watched Scooby-Doo for several days, obsessing anyway, until I could no longer take not knowing the results (Sunday morning at 4:17AM)

This covers a 10 year period

RED = MYTHOLOGY (Evil Supply Co. public shop before closing + private practice for mythology clients, which did not close)

BLUE = OTHER STUFF with red removed so I can see what percentage of income is mythology vs. not.

Got a bit of red on me.

In this chart you can see where I had my 2020 traffic accident and the subsequent rebuilding of my life and business practices.

Now let's talk about why I'm making this post. You can tell where I added artwork to this "hide private information" chart because it's bright pink.

I feel like following me on social media is a combination of mythology and benefiting from my investments in business + therapy. Consider this part of the value proposition in following oh stones I can't with the business talk.

atty (me, hi) = cartoon business person doing fun spooky things + occasional thing that is accidentally actually useful = public posting (desire for attention + lightly marketing)

Which is a quick commercial break for our sponsor (hi, it's me, I'm the sponsor on my own post)

netherworldpost.com has the mailing list when the public side of Netherworld Post opens later this year.

Greeting cards, postcards, stickers, zines, stories, rambles. All original art and writing about queer monsters, witches, ghosts, mermaids living in paradise.

Mental and physical therapy... are... continuing... and as they improve I can make stuff faster and get closer to launching

Thanks, back to rambling.

One of the things that has sat heavily in my brain since said traffic accident is a variety of soul haunting "what if?"s

This chart is to showcase the utter irrelevance of this line of thinking -- you cannot change the past -- in hopes of helping me and subsequently you to move on.

One of the biggest things I am trying to unbuckle from my brain is this idea that life is a linear experience with a finite number of resources and opportunities.

My brain has been ground into the position of "I must constantly hustle because every opportunity not maximized is lost forever and is thus one more step closer to irreversible failure. Going slow or stopping to rest = bad."

This is a coldly logical statement that sounds great when you're being punitive to yourself for choices made by you or others.

There is some small truth to it (your daily existence is comprised of 24 hours) but the fundamental and utterly overwhelmingly larger truth underlying is life is not comprised of a straight forward math formula.

Here is a zoom in + direct message summary

Bad thing happens.

Work harder for awhile.

Things resume on the previous path.

Worry over choosing the wrong path is extremely probably corrected over the long term.

Your "what if?" -- my "what if?" -- is irrelevant.

Not just because you cannot change the past. But because continued hard work averages out losses and "non-selected opportunities"

(don't you love that? "non-selected opportunities". This is a new phrase to me. Such a nice way of passing up "I didn't take the objectively better path for reasons.")

I hope you find it helpful!

I hope you sign up on netherworldpost.com which has an auto-merging feature if you've already signed, meaning if you're unsure, sign up again, you won't get duplicate emails in a few months when we launch!

Thank you, it's time for coffee, I have spent 5+ hours reading this damn thing and making this post

[oliverreedmasterass]

Part 3!

Credits to @starcatcherkiszka​ for the fic idea! 

In case you want something to listen to while you read: ✨Summer of 69 Playlist✨

Words: 4k

Warnings: drug use, language, mentions of drinking and nudity

Synopsis: Greta Van Fleet somehow manages to travel back in time to the Summer of 69, during the Woodstock Art and Music festival. You can only imagine what hijinks they’re going to get up to. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Considering Jake and Danny were acting like a set of toddlers, the rest of their trek to the festival could have gone a lot worse. Things only got bad for a little bit when Jake veered off the road and started stumbling through someone’s backyard, only to be chased back to the street by a man wielding a shovel. By the time the venue was within sight, Jake and Danny were coming down from their highs and finally starting to make more sense. 

“I could go for a drink of something,” Jake spoke the first coherent sentence Sam or Josh had heard from him in over an hour. 

“Me too,” Danny agreed. At some point in their walk he had acquired a beaded headband, which he was using to push his long hair out of his face. He had no recollection of where it had come from. 

“We’ll find something when we get inside,” Josh promised them. “We’re so close.” 

“Where did my shoe go?” Jake asked. 

“You lost it when that guy was chasing you,” Sam caught him up to speed. 

“That wasn’t very Hare Krishna of him,” Jake frowned. 

At long last they finally reached the fenced entrance, which was jam-packed with all kinds of different people, all eager to get inside. Josh noted that, if they really wanted to, they could have all collectively pushed on the fence and made it topple over to gain access to the festival. But, instead, they had to wait for another painful half hour as everyone slowly filed through the small opening in the fence. 

They stepped inside and were immediately spellbound. Word had definitely gotten around that something exciting was happening, because the farm field in front of them was filled to the brim. Greta Van Fleet had played some pretty large shows in their time, but it really didn’t compare to what was in front of them. The sea of people extended as far as the eye could see. 

“Something tells me we aren’t gonna get barricade, guys,” Sam joked. Jake genuinely looked upset. Danny scanned around the area and his eyes brightened when he saw a group of people with flowers in their hair, handing out paper cups of water. All that walking and tripping balls had really made him dehydrated. Since he knew Jake was in the same boat, he grabbed his arm and pulled him away from Sam and Josh to the people. 

“Oof,” Jake grunted, though he perked up when he realized where they were headed. 

“Welcome to Woodstock!” a girl in a pair of flare jeans and a striped yellow shirt greeted them, handing out two cups of water. Jake and Danny both smiled at her to be polite, and then proceeded to slam the water down, emptying their cups in under 2 seconds. With wide eyes, the girl reached behind her and grabbed two more cups for them. “You been walking for a while?” 

she asked. 

“You wouldn’t believe the journey we’ve been on,” Jake started to reply, but Danny stepped on his foot to get him to stop. With the drugs fully worn off, his tolerance for stupidity was a lot lower, especially when it came to openly admitting they had time traveled. Jake scowled at Danny since he had accidentally stomped down on his bare foot, and then went out of his way to clear his throat and turn to the girl. 

“Yeah, the traffic out there is bad, we had to walk about five miles to get here.” 

“Did you lose your shoe along the way or do you just prefer to keep that foot out?” 

“It’s a personal style choice,” Jake joked with her. “But in all seriousness, is there a place where I can find some shoes around here?” 

As the girl started to point towards a line of vans on the opposite side of the field, Josh handed Jake his sneakers. 

“I want to go barefoot,” Josh explained. “Give me your shoe.” 

Looking mildly confused by how Josh had managed to kick off his shoes so quickly, Jake tucked the sneakers under his arm and held onto Josh’s shoulder to keep himself balanced while he slipped out of his single white van. He silently handed it to Josh, and Josh grabbed it, wound up his arm, and chucked the shoe into oblivion. A car alarm sounded in the distance. 

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Josh explained himself. 

Jake stared at him. “You’ve been wanting to throw my shoe?” 

“You guys are outta sight,” the girl laughed as she continued handing other people water. 

“Thank you,” Jake started to tell her as Danny dragged him and Josh away. 

“Let’s keep the interactions to a minimum,” he whispered between them. 

“Nice to have you back, Danny,” Jake sighed. It had been fun screaming about the mushroom people and hitting Josh with a stick because he looked like a pinata with Danny on their trek to Woodstock. They didn’t have a worry in the world between the two of them, which was something Danny needed to experience more often. 

“Someone needs to be responsible,” Danny protested. 

“Oh, so I’m off the hook now?” Sam joined them, wrapping an arm around Josh’s shoulder. “If that’s the case,” he trailed off, heading for the vans that the girl had directed them towards. “I’m gonna look at the vintage clothes,” he called over his shoulder. It seemed like they were between sets because no music was playing, so they decided to trail behind Sam. 

The vans were a sight to see: they were parked one behind another, forming a seemingly never-ending chain that ran parallel to the stream that cut through the far end of the property. While some of the vans were entirely locked up with their blinds drawn, most of them had their side doors wide open, plumes of smoke pouring out. 

Sam approached an especially large van that had a collection of shirtless men sitting in front of it, passing around a bong and chugging down some beers. It was basically Sam’s scene. The greatest part of the allure for him, though, was the collection of clothes they had laid out in front of them in the grass. Fur vests, paisley pants, anti-war shirts, and white tunics were sitting there, as if waiting for them. Sam, Josh, Jake, and Danny all spotted something that they were itching to wear. 

“How’s it going?” Sam greeted the group, making Danny grit his teeth in concern from behind him. 

“Hey man,” one of the guys, sporting an impressive, dark mustache, raised his beer to Sam. “Having a gas over here.” 

“Nice clothes,” Sam motioned down to the pieces. 

“If you like anything, we can make a trade,” the guy manning the bong piped in. 

“Like cash?” Sam raised an eyebrow. 

“Nah, we accept other currency,” the guy nodded down at his bong. 

“Oh,” Sam breathed out in understanding. “Shit, I don’t have any on me.” 

He turned back around to Jake, Danny, and Josh for support. Eyeing a Sgt. Pepper-looking purple jacket, Jake leaned over and snagged the LSD from Danny’s pocket. 

“This work?” he asked, holding the packet up and shaking it. 

“I heard that shit is the good kind,” a guy with hair curlier than Josh’s spoke up. He hopped down from the van, which he had been sitting inside, and approached Jake to take a closer look. “Have you had any?” he asked Jake. 

“Best high of my life.” Jake wasn’t entirely lying. 

The guy tugged the packet out from Jake’s fingers and brought it back to his buddies to observe. Finally, one of them turned around for a brief moment to motion to the clothes. 

“Have at it.” 

Immediately the four rushed to claim what they had been eyeballing. Without a care in the world, Jake tossed his black button up off and slipped on the jacket. Danny snatched a white tunic with flowers stitched on the collar before Sam could grab it, causing Sam to give a massive pout. To the surprise of no one, Josh slipped into an oversized parka-type outfit made out of a stunning, hypnotizing orange, yellow, and red fabric so he looked like he was wearing a parachute. Sam, disgruntled that Danny had stolen his first pick, opted for a long sleeve jean top with a matching pair of pants that had been painted over with peace signs, flowers, and other psychedelic etchings. He put the top on, ignoring the buttons to reveal his bare chest, and noted with a smile that it fit perfectly. He was about to ask where he could change into the pants, but stopped when he saw that Jake was nonchalantly pulling down his jeans in the middle of the field to trade them for a pair of velvet flare pants. After a quick scan around, Sam noted that no one was batting an eye at Jake’s public nudity. So, with a shrug, he put on his new pants out in the open and was about to offer his clothes to the guys at the van when Danny took them from him. 

“We’re gonna have to burn these,” Danny laid down the law. “What would these people do if they saw a tag from Uniqlo?” 

“I don’t know, but we would somehow cease to exist because of it,” Jake rolled his eyes from behind Danny. 

“Butterfly effect,” Danny turned on his heel to coach Jake. “You can’t underestimate the butterfly effect.” 

“Obviously not,” Jake murmured. Danny plucked Jake’s jeans and shirt from his hands and did the same to Josh, who looked surprised. He scanned around and then his face brightened when he spotted a pack of matches sitting unattended on a folding chair by the van. Jake, Josh, and Sam watched as he retrieved the matches and then hustled into the wooded area without another word. Sam was about to follow him, since it’s hard to turn down the opportunity to watch a bonfire, when he stopped in his tracks. 

“Holy shit,” his voice shook. 

“What?” Jake turned in a full circle to try and figure out what was going on. 

“Please don’t tell me you left your wallet in your old pants,” Josh’s tone was tired. 

“No, look,” Sam’s hand wobbled as he pointed two vans down. Jake and Josh tried to follow what was setting Sam off but they were coming up short. “That’s Joan fucking Baez,” Sam gasped. “Like, standing right there.” 

“Danny’s not here,” Josh noted. “You should talk to her before he runs back to stop you.” 

Sam’s face started to redden. “I don’t know what I would say.” 

“Just be cool,” Josh pushed Sam along. “You’re good at that.” 

“No I’m not,” Sam’s voice cracked, but he found that he was moving towards the legendary Joan Baez anyways. 

The next thing he knew, he was standing in front of her, babbling like an idiot. 

“I love your work with Bob Dylan, your lyrics are unlike anything I’ve ever heard, it’s just so profound and thoughtful and nuanced and your voice is exceptional, you’re such an incredible artist, I can’t believe I’m standing in front of you right now, I mean I’m so starstruck right now I can feel my heart pounding against my rib cage sorry that’s totally oversharing but wow it’s just such an honor to even be in your presence, I feel like the luckiest person alive.” 

“You’re too kind,” Joan Baez gave Sam a smile, though it seemed clear that she was a bit unsettled by him. 

“Wildwood Flower really shaped who I am as a person,” Sam continued to talk her ear off. “Everytime I hear it, it’s like a visceral feeling. I can escape from reality for as long as that song is playing.” 

“Thank you,” Joan Baez nodded again. “That’s an older one, I’m impressed.” Sam opened his mouth to continue talking, but she cut in. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but I need to get back to the stage. I just wanted to walk the perimeter to clear my head a bit before I go on.” 

“You haven’t performed yet?” Sam looked so excited, he could lay an egg. 

“Later tonight,” Joan Baez promised him. “I have a feeling you won’t miss it.” 

She moved away, back towards the large stage, leaving Sam dumbfounded. 

“Joan Baez just talked to me,” he whispered. “Joan Baez knows I exist.” 

Josh and Jake approached him and Josh slapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“You were so calm and composed, Sammy.” 

“Do you think?” Sam sounded hopeful.

“No,” Jake snorted. 

Suddenly the stunning sound of a sitar started to thunder across the fields, which was met by cheers and applause from the crowd. 

“Ravi Shankar,” Josh’s eyes darted around in excitement. “I need to get closer to the stage to see this.” 

Jake and Sam watched as Josh tried to run as fast as he could in his oversized outfit, the fabric fluttering behind him like a butterfly’s wings. Jake let out a small chuckle at his twin and then focused his attention on Sam. 

“Having a good time?” 

“I’m still not entirely sure any of this is real,” Sam admitted. “But I just met Joan Baez, so I’m gonna try to convince myself that it is.” 

“I hope it is,” Jake agreed. 

The two brothers stood side by side, watching Josh as he quickly made his way closer to the stage, brushing past the other concert goers and even going out of his way to jump over those on the ground like they were hurdles. By Ravi Shankar’s second song, Josh was directly next to the stage, front and center, screaming and cheering at the top of his lungs. By that point, Jake and Sam had meandered into the crowd to find a good spot to rest, and they could see clearer that Josh was attempting to dance to the music, though it proved to be hard in his outfit. It didn't matter though since other people around him started to follow suit, twisting back and forth and waving their arms around like the inflatable men in front of car dealerships. 

Jake had to do a double take when he noticed that someone was talking to Josh at the front of the stage, and then leading him to the backstage area. He elbowed Sam in the ribs and motioned towards Josh. 

“They’re taking him backstage.” 

“What did he do?” Sam frowned. “Bribe them with drugs?” 

Jake shrugged. 

“Danny’s been gone for a while,” Sam took a moment to think. “Do you think he’s okay? I don’t smell any smoke. Or, not any wildfire smoke. He should be okay, right?” 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Jake said, sounding entirely unconcerned. 

Danny was in fact not okay. He had succeeded in retrieving a decent collection of logs that looked especially flammable by the stream and dug a hole to stack the wood in. With a strike of the stolen matchbox, he had a hearty light aflame and was quick to grab his University of Michigan shirt from his pocket and send it into the crackling flames. While that burned, he started to sort through his friends’ clothes, dropping them one by one into the fire, which was growing higher. 

“Almost there,” Danny whispered to himself. 

“Oy!” a gruff voice called behind him. Danny contemplated running for a split second, but wasn’t confident he’d be able to get away, so he instead slowly turned around to face the voice. Behind him, a stout, farmer-looking man stood with his hands on his hips, staring Danny down. “Who told you you could start a fire?” 

“Uh,” Danny started to panic. What would someone from the sixties say? What makes sense? 

“Deborah?” he guessed, wincing at his decision. The man studied Danny closer. 

“Deborah?” he asked back. 

“Yeah,” Danny attempted to regain his composure. “Deborah told me I could.” 

“Where is Deborah now?”

Danny wanted to tell the guy to stop asking so many questions because it was making his head hurt. Instead, he pointed in a random direction back where the crowd was gathered. 

“Over there,” he gave a bullshit answer. “With the blonde hair and blue top.” 

There were about thirty people in the direction Danny had pointed who matched that description. 

“That’s not gonna do it for me, pal,” the man shook his head. “Now I’m all for fire, but it’s gotta be controlled. You let that thing grow anymore and you’re gonna catch the trees on fire.” 

Danny hung his head and nodded. He had been in a rush to get rid of their clothes, so he really didn’t take the time to follow the steps he had learned in cub scouts to build the safest fire possible. He deserved a slap on the wrist for being so reckless, even if he was only doing it to save the future of humanity. What he didn’t expect, though, was for the guy to place his meaty hand on his shoulder and start steering him away from the creek. 

“Where are we going?” Danny squeaked out. 

“I gotta take you back to my boss to see what we’re gonna do with you.” 

Danny’s face fell. 

“What happened to peace and love?” 

“No peace or love when you’re setting shit on fire, man. We gotta draw the line somewhere.” 

A few other guys who looked similar to the farmer guy approached Danny’s fire and started to stir it and douse it with water so the flames retreated back down to a glowing ember. Danny wanted to protest and argue his case, but he knew it was no use in the grand scheme of things. He had to keep his interactions to a minimum and, if that meant he was going to get kicked out of the festival, he’d have to suck it up and roll with the punches.

Back in the crowd, Jake and Sam tried to find where Josh had gone. It was hard to miss him since you could spot him from a mile away with the fabric he was wearing, but after he had ducked around the perimeter of the stage, he was nowhere to be seen. 

“Should we try to go after him?” Sam asked. 

“I mean,” Jake thought aloud, “Yeah. If he’s going backstage, I want to go back there too.” 

Sam couldn’t argue with that, so they commenced on a stressful voyage, squeezing through the lines and lines of people who had settled in the field. 

“Sorry!” Sam called out as he accidentally took a step in someone’s potato salad. 

“Not groovy, man,” the couple shook their heads at him. 

“This is stressful,” Sam complained as they made their way closer to the stage. “I think I’m starting to get claustrophobic or something, my head is spinning.” 

“Deep breaths, Sammy,” Jake reminded him. “You need to look where you’re going.” 

As soon as he said that, he accidentally walked into a young guy who was wearing a Red Wings tee. They both grunted and hopped away from each other. 

“My bad!” Jake called out. The guy flashed him a smile and shook his head. 

“All good, all good.” 

Jake was about to turn and keep walking when he made a choking noise. 

“What?” Sam rejoined his side. 

“I think that’s Dad’s cousin,” Jake whispered, pointing at the guy who was now looking at Jake strangely. That was warranted, considering they basically had the same face. 

“Do I know you?” he asked Jake. 

“Not yet,” Jake couldn’t help but say, even though he knew Danny would murder him for his time travel joke. He also couldn’t hold back from giving a small wave and saying, “I’ll see you in about 30 years!” 

“You’re an idiot,” Sam had to state the obvious as they kept walking. 

“He’ll just assume we’re on drugs, it’s all good,” Jake nonchalantly replied. “I can have my fun without the butterfly effect happening.” 

“I know for a fact that Danny would disagree with you on that one.” 

They finally made it to the side of the stage, and Sam and Jake stood on their toes to try and catch a glimpse of their brother. Ravi Shankar’s music made it hard to hear one another and, on top of that, focus, since it was so spellbinding. Jake’s hopes rose when he spotted a guy with a walkie talkie standing a few feet away from them, crossing his arms like he had some level of authority. 

“Hey!” Jake raised his voice and waved his arms around to try and catch his attention. The guy lifted an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side, so Jake motioned for him to come to them. It was frankly a surprise that the guy did just that, since it seemed like his job was to keep an eye on the spot he had just left. “Can we get to the back?” Jake asked. He had grown so accustomed to being granted backstage access in the present, it didn’t occur to him how delusional his request sounded. 

“Musicians only,” the guy shook his head. “Sorry folks.” 

“We are musicians,” Jake stated with a blank expression. 

“We have a friend who got back there,” Sam cut in. “We just want to find him, that's all.” 

“What does he look like?” 

“Curly hair, stupid face, big old cloak of fabric,” Jake listed off on his fingers. 

“Oh, that guy!” the guy nodded his head with a smile. “He’s a cool head. I can grab him for you.” 

Jake and Sam both nodded, and were left to stand and focus on Ravi Shankar’s set. Jake looked back out over the crowd and whistled in disbelief. Everything was unbelievable. He tried his hardest to take in the view and sounds so they would remain with him forever. It really did feel like some higher power had handed them the opportunity of a lifetime. 

“Howdy,” Josh’s voice caused Jake to snap around. He was still wearing his goofy outfit but had managed to acquire more beads and a pair of rounded sunglasses that were too big for his face. “I got us a spot in the lineup.” 

Jake suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe and Sam’s eyes bugged. 

“Josh,” Jake’s voice quivered. “Why would you do that?” 

“I was talking with this guy, I mentioned on the fly that we were in a band, and he said that we could play a couple of songs if we wanted. How could I pass up on that?” 

“Danny’s not gonna go out there.” 

“Where is Danny, by the way?” 

It was convenient that, in that moment, the Hog Farm hippie dragged Danny past them. 

“Danny!” They all called out. He gave them a frown and a sad wave. Before he could be taken away, Josh managed to step in front of the hippie and hold a hand up. 

“What’s going on?” he demanded. 

“Kid was starting a fire by the creek,” the hippie replied. “No fires allowed.” 

“Are you booking him?” Sam asked. 

“Just checking in with the big man about what we should do,” the hippie answered. 

“Say you won’t do it again, Danny,” Josh said. 

“I mean, yeah, I definitely won’t,” Danny said, sounding sincere. 

“We’re all about forgiveness and love here, right?” Josh turned to the hippie. “How about letting him off with a warning. The fire didn’t get out of control, so now we can move on and forget about it. Dig it?” 

The hippie seemed to contemplate Josh’s words, and then he finally gave a shrug. 

“I do need to do another round to check in on people,” he admitted. 

“We’ll keep an eye on the kid, don’t worry,” Josh promised. 

That was enough for the hippie, since he dropped Danny’s arm and gave it a quick pat. 

“No more fires,” he shook his finger at Danny. Danny couldn’t help but give him a salute. With that, the hippie took off, bobbing his head to Ravi Shankar’s music. Danny rubbed at his arm since the guy had been holding onto him pretty tightly, and gave an embarrassed smile at his bandmates. 

“What did I miss?” he softly asked. Jake and Sam exchanged a nervous glance. 

“Get warmed up, Danny,” Josh beamed. “We’re going on after Melanie.”

[magicalgirlsirin]

hi you got me interested in tokusatsu and i was wondering what would be a good one to start with?

[insert sickos yes!!!! meme]

right okay so starting off with the big three series

Ultraman R/B: i admittedly have not watched this, but i consulted with my friend henri who has and this was the top recc for ultras. so yknow! reports say theres lesbians in this. in general seasons of ultraman tend to be shorter so its an easier watch

Kamen Rider Fourze: this is genuinely such a good rider which is why my url is based on it. the setting is just, japanese high school based on american high school but specificially the kind you see in movies about being in high school, starring gentaro who is determined to befriend everyone in the universe, and a very cute space theme + the power of friendship. when i was watching it i kept being like "wow gentaro is literally a magical girl protag" bc he has such infectious cheerful energy :)

Gokaiger: I feel like this is THE quintissential anniversary season. funky space pirate polycule accidentally stumbles into the role of protecting earth. There's a lot of features of past sentais as well as tons of actors reprising their roles for this one, so if you spot a different sentai you think you might like this is imo the best showcase of it. ahim is also #mygirlboss

now this next recc is an independently made toku but its really really good and i'd be remiss to not mention it

Dogengers: Local heroes in the Fukuoka prefecture are left scattered to the wind after the villainous Yabai Kamen manages to take over! It's up to a newly recruited hero, "Rookie", to bring them back together. Dogengers also has a second and third season, being Nice Buddy and High School, respectively.

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Okay now this section is like "ones I really enjoyed but I wouldn't really consider them incredibly optimal starting points but i like the them"

Shinkenger: Shinken is a bit more of a serious romp, but its done soooo well it makes me go silly mode every time. Featuring a crew of samurai descended from a long line of warriors, they're all just doing their best to finally defeat the evil spirits that enter the human world. Takeru is such a team lead ever and i like how everyone on the team has a different opinion about their duty. yknow.

Gekiranger: GECK GECK!!!! tldr there are two schools of arts in a power struggle, beast arts and evil beast arts. you will never be able to guess who the antagonists belong to based on these naming conventions. starring the most feral man i have ever seen in my life [bc he was taken from the jungle], jan, who is a naturally talented fighter chosen to help defeat the evil beast arts users for the sake of humanity or something. my personal favorite character is mele who is in fact evil but she was really hot while doing it so she gets a pass. her transformation is a chameleon and her suit is designed so that the eyes of the chameleon are positioned directly where her tits are, which is a detail i cannot ignore

Donbrothers: this one is currently ongoing and frankly i dont know how to explain it. its definitely a departure from traditional sentais, featuring the main team in more of an ensemble arrangement since for the majority of the show they dont all know each others identities. theres a lot of major moving parts and its honestly a really wild ride, but i enjoy seeing how the different story pieces unfold. the main character is haruka kito, the most 17 year old high school girl ever who is a disgraced mangaka. she is stubborn and honestly a spitfire, and there is something wrong with her. at one point she gets kidnapped and goes "wow! this will be a great experience to put into my next manga!" even though there is not a single publishing agency that would touch her stuff with a 10 foot pole. she is an inspiration to me to become less normal. donbrothers is technically a sequel to the series right before it, but i dont think you need to watch it because there is exactly one character carried over and he is nothing like how he was in the previous season.

Den-o: oughhh the . with the scrumbly... den-o is genuinely one of my favorite riders as well. the main character Ryoutarou is one of the most sopping wet pathetic 18 year old guys ever and he is being so brave about it. hes a bit of an airhead and definitely a pushover, but its honestly one of the reasons i love him so much. den-o is about ryoutarou becoming a rider with the help of possession from 4 other imagin, which are beings sprung up from the sands of time which seek out people with strong desires to grant their wishes. once those wishes are fufilled, the imagin can enter the past of a person and wreak havoc. the goal of most normal imagin[read: not the ones that hang out with ryou] is to destroy the future, but Ryoutarou and his gaggle of weirdos ride the Denliner to help protect it. It's soooo good okay. den o was super popular so it has a billion spinoff mini series and cameos in other riders but i think it stands best on its own

Exaid: now i want to be clear here and tell you. exaid is not good. exaid is okay and is good in my mind. but it was my first rider so i am attached. It's a part medical drama part video game full time wild fuckin ride where our main character Emu Hojo becomes an intern at a special hospital unit where the staff is able to transform into riders to help fight against the Bugster virus, a special strain of disease that if left untreated allows bugsters [video game entities] to manifest in the real world, killing the patient in the process. The medical drama part is really just a catalyst to the video game stuff, but seeing Emu have his patience tested by the most insane men in the world is worf. Also the nurse Asuna/Poppy is literally sooooo virusgender and I want to steal her gender so bad. i would talk abt dan kuroto since youve probably seen me post abt him before but i feel hes best experienced than explained. just know hes got autism and issues.

Changerion: prolly the oldest toku ive picked up, this one isnt really comparable to anything. its definitely slower paced than the other series ive reccomended so far, and it can definitely feel unfocused. it also suffers from having a reduced episode count [which was cut due to lack of popularity]. in spite of this, i think it was one of my favorite watches ever. The main character, Akira, is a wildly out of control bisexual man. on adderall. He's a detective without work and the first case he manages to land in a while ends up with him in a car crash that grants him the ability to transform. However, instead of being excited with his new purpose in life, he pretty much just tries to slack off and dodge responsibility as much as possible, much to the chagrin of Hayami [the man originally meant to be the one transforming]. Akira very reluctantly fights against the darkzeid, who feast on humanity for power and can open gateways to whats pretty much just a hell dimension. Kuroiwa is a standout character as well, being an antagonist but just so bizzarely charming he ended up as a favorite. He's a darkzeid who wants to integrate with humanity but instead of finding normal ways to do it, he just tries taking over japan. yknow how it is.

EDIT: chewing on glass how could I forget

The High School Heroes: this is only 8 episodes very short but also the episodes are long so it's longshort. Featuring a tokuota (toku otaku) who's obsessed with gorengers(first ever sentai) bringing together his classmates to form a defense club since students keep mysteriously turning into monsters! Also featuring a transfem character who's arc made me cry and she's also my best friend btw. There's a lot of references to gorengers overall but you don't have to know it to go oh it looks cool

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sorry this is such a long post i wanted to give you a lot of options and also just like. theres a lot of good points to different series and each one offers something different in theme and tone. also i probably couldve recommended more but this is already such a big list. okay glhf

[justhereforqsmp]

just wanted to try drawing in the nimona style (BECAUSE IT’S SOOO CUTE) but the more I thought about it the more I realized nimona and qsmp guapoduo’s story line up. Kinda Well Actually. Almost Too Well. This is what happens when I watch other media while watching QSMP things get wacky LMAOOOO

I was debating between making nimona au of a wider struggle with the Federation/Institute like we have in QSMP to include more characters or to just stick closely to the movie with limited characters… I think both Nimona aus could be interesting but for now I’ll just work with the movie bc I had such a clear idea in mind LOL

BELOW the read more is SPOILERS FOR ALL OF NIMONA. if you have Netflix, i recommend giving it a watch I enjoyed it quite a bit, good art, cute story! Basically the au is just the movie plot if you replaced some characters with qsmp + the art I made to go along with it

Cellbit - Ballister, perfect because he goes through a similar thing with trying to earn the Federation’s trust, and trying to earn the islander’s trust in his traitor situation going on. And also Cucurucho would totally frame him for crimes LOLLLL. And also the situation with him being framed to kill King Abueloier is just a perfectly fitting situation and also getting his arm cut off. By a chainsaw. So he matches Richas now. I think instead of roier it would be abueloier who cuts his arm off I think, in a last ditch effort to stay alive, or maybe Roier deserves to cut off some arms idk. I think Ballister’s noble ideals really align with Cellbit’s, but also Cellbit would probably be a little more aggressive than Ballister is in the movie when stressed, I.e Fugo Impossivel Cellbit. ALSO HE ALREADY HAS THE DARK KNIGHT AESTHETIC IN QSMP

Roier - Ambrosius, perfect because Roier used to be really buddy buddy with the Federation and with Cucurucho but because of Bobby and Cellbit started to view them as more sinister. I think that both his arcs of trusting cellbit even through his traitor arc and distrusting cellbit because he murdered his grandpa are well-reflected in Ambrosius’ arc in the film. In this version of the movie Nimona (Bobby and Richas) and Ambrosius interact more because even though they’re little monsters the Bobby-Richas bond with Roier is too good. The only reason I was at first considering Roier for Ballister is because of the Ballister-Nimona bond but like Cellbit fits the role so much better.

Richas and Bobby - Both Nimona, somehow. Little dragon shapeshifters that cause trouble, constantly bicker, and just want to be loved. Bobby, of course, fits Nimona a little bit better with their temperaments but I feel the fatherly-son bond between Richas and Cellbit is too good to pass up. Also Richas is definitely capable of anarchy.

Idk, Tilin?? - Gloreth. Honestly any of the egg kids reskinned to just be regular children would work for this (Pomme? Tallulah?? Leo because Roier-Leo family relation?) , but I don’t think any of them would betray Bobby and Richas lol.

Jaiden - The squire. Because I feel she would accidentally witness a planned assassination and try to warn about it but fail and just be burdened with knowledge LOL. And, another change from the movie, during the kidnapping of Jaiden she bonds with Bobby and becomes part of the found family too.

Cucurucho - The Director. Because it hates Cellbit, likes to keep order, and wants to kill the eggs. Self explanatory!

The Institute - The Federation. Similar color schemes, similar control over the populace!

Abueloier - King/Queen + that jerk Todd guy. It’s perfect, he gets killed in the opening scene of the movie and you know Roier is like “how could you do this”. I feel that Abueloier and Cellbit had an ok dynamic at first that just worsened until Cellbit um. Killed him. So maybe that happens here too except this time Cellbit didn’t actually kill him and the royal sword was rigged by Cucurucho.

And Bobby actually dies at the end so there’s only Richas left. To keep it in canon. : ). Pain. He’s a hero though so. I Guess It’s Okay.

[gortius-viii]

In philosophy I recently had to write some thoughts about art, history, knowledge and stuff. And I think I worked way harder than I should've, and I don't want my reflexions to go to waste, so here they are:

1. How and why did art originate?

Art originated as a way to represent the world around them, maybe for didactical purposes, but also for marking territory and as warnings.

2. How has art evolved from the Paleolithic to the present day?

Art obviously has become complexer as time has gone on, because the tools we humans use to make have become complexer over time, and the concepts represented in art have also become complexer and more varied to what humans in the Paleolithic may have made art out of. Not because ancient humans couldn’t think of them, but because they didn't have the tools to do it.

3. Can art transmit knowledge? If so, what does the art of the Chauvet cave convey to us?

Yes, I think that art can transmit knowledge in two main ways: expressing that knowledge directly, for example if you knowingly draw how an atomic bomb functions, in a way that someone can understand it, and with the aim to explain it, that I think would be considered knowledge. But also, you could draw an atomic bomb for whatever other purpose, and when humans go extinct because of the bombs, and an alien civilization sees your drawing of an atomic bomb, that might give them the knowledge that we had atomic bombs. The Chauvet cave is the second case, accidental knowledge brought to the future.

4. Is art an intrinsic part of human life?

Yes, I think that art and creativity in general are an inseparable part of the human experience. Because art comes in so many ways, there is an “art” for everyone, and it is literally impossible that you have not made art in your lifetime if you reach a certain age. Everyone has drawn, on a piece of paper, the wall, your hand, and I think that that classifies as art. Even the most nihilistic and destructive person has made a drawing, written some lines of fiction, or hummed an imaginary melody, even Meursault from The Extranger has had to make art sometime. 

5. What is the relation between art, ritual, religion, knowledge and survival?

Rituals and religions are almost one in the same, religion can be expressed or invoked through rituals, but through art as well. Religion may come out of personal experiences that are a kind of knowledge, and knowledge is crucial to survival. Also, one may or may not (depending on the tools at one’s disposal) require knowledge to do art or a ritual. Neither religion, art or ritual are key to survival. 

6. Can we know the past? Are history and paleontology/paleoanthropology reliable areas of knowledge?

I have described before that history, and knowledge of the past in general as an asymptote, you may get close and close and close and close to the definite, undeniable, provable truth about everything that happened to who where, but you cannot ever achieve truth. You may get 0.99999999999… close to “solving” history, but you’ll never reach all the truth about what happened in the past. And yes, history, paleontology and paleoanthropology are reliable areas of knowledge, because however unreliable they may be, if we subjected them to the scrutiny and standards of the scientific world (we hold them to a relaxed standard in any case nowadays), we’d end up with no knowledge of history at all!

7. After watching "The Cave of forgotten dreams", has anything changed in your way of seeing the world and our place in the Universe?

No, honestly. It briefly reminded me of the fearsome scale of the universe, and my miniscule place in it; but it didn’t get me to change anything in my behavior of world view, as I always had that sense of scale, and that my mark was important, and I always wanted to leave something palpable; which I imagine is what someone may now try to do after seeing the documentary.

8. Do you think that our Paleolithic ancestors' way of looking at reality is very different from ours? If so, how and why?

The easy answer to this question would be to say that simply they were more spiritual, but as in our modern society there are more spiritual people and less spiritual people, I think that was the case in the ancient time as well; there were more spiritual people and less spiritual people. I think that our world view differs from that of our ancestors in the sense that the things they saw and the things we see are completely different, the “content” of their reality was different, we could say. But I think they had the same insecurities, questions and doubts about their universe as we do.

[bsaka7]

hi! a while back I wrote my first smutty pierresteban fic on ao3 and you wrote the nicest, most thorough review I’ve ever read in my life and it honestly made my entire month 💕 so thank you!!

not sure if you’ve spoken about this before but I wanted to ask - what goes through your mind when you write reviews / read fic? how are you able to just capture the essence of what spoke to you and at the same time convey such appreciation to the writer? it’s truly an art. as a writer yourself, what kind of reviews make you the happiest / most satisfied?

omg!!! I'm so honored that my comment made such an impact - I'm sure what you wrote was absolutely lovely!! It's really nice to know that my comments have an impact for you as well as for me bc I do rlly enjoy writing them. This is also such a nice question - I don't think I've been asked it before - and I definitely have thoughts hahaha!! Many thoughts. Many more than are even below the cut perhaps...

What goes through my mind when I write a comment?

I guess it's a couple of different things. For me, the fic I like best catches on something - a theme, a twist on a relationship - that I don't find elsewhere. I really like fic that makes me think about something differently. I think part of this is how I like to engage with texts generally - I read a lot but like, you can't tell the author of a novel what you thought so easily. So those thoughts I have generally get harnessed into comments bc I know someone will read them.

Within that, I'm like... I guess I try to be a critical thinker and consider things deeper than surface level and that of course applies to fic. So I try to pull out a couple of ways I think the author did things differently than maybe I would expect - a plot twist, or a characterization choice, or a thematic engagement. Idk i want people to know that I take their writing just as seriously as anything else I read. A big worry when I'm commenting is being accidentally mean - I've been called condescending a lot in my life hahaha - so that is also always on my mind as well.

I don't really think about my comment til I get to the end of a fic where I usually ask myself what was the most memorable and then I give it a little bit of time to percolate and then write the comment... Idk. Some of this is probably also affected by both like... how being a history major trained me to think about reading and also bc - I'm fairly picky about what I read (I don't read that much fic and I honestly am not a great commenter overall - I do have to really like it/want more of it/find something of interest in it), I read a lot, and I'm very confident in what I like.

How do I capture what spoke to me and convey my appreciation to the writer?

Okay to be honest I worry about this a lot... Like is it too much of what I thought?? Am I getting away from the meaning of the text? I feel like also I am kind of a hater generally but I 1) never want to make anyone feel bad about their writing and 2) especially don't want to do so accidentally.

So for me, when I'm writing a comment, I try to chunk it out into the different ideas that I liked (for example: main ship dynamic, external friendships, and fate), and jot my thoughts down for them. I try to focus on those ideas over like idk writing technique. Once I get down all my vague thoughts, I'll go back and flesh them out into sentences and include something specific about each of those points. For at least one point, I try to include a line I particularly liked. Then I go back through again and try make sure I didn't say anything accidentally insulting (I generally do also have critiques when I read but I try and lean as heavily into the positive as I can and make sure I only ever tell someone that if they ask me). For shorter fics, I'll do maybe only one or two ideas, but for longer ones my comments can get... Long. I'm not sure if that totally answers your question but that's the like... balance I try to strike?

As to what kind of reviews make me the happiest/most satisfied...

I was actually talking to one of my very good friends about this the other day. Unsurprisingly, the comments I like to get are similar to those I try to write. My favorite comments are the ones that go deeper - what themes did you like and did you see, how do you see the characters thinking about their lives. I really enjoy when people make external connections whether that to be of other books/articles or music (but this can be hit or miss based on if we have similar taste lol) or pieces of art, especially bc its often stuff that idk about!! For me, I try with most of my fic to weigh in on some larger theme or question and I really like when ppl engage with that because they're always going to bring in new thoughts and ideas that I can't come up with on my own!!! My friend says that I like debate (I love debate) hahaha so I do like stuff that pushes me about the text can be understood.

That being said like. I also really appreciate when people tell me lines they like, or even just a single line that they enjoyed the fic. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining about engagement bc I'm not!!! I just love when people are willing to go deeper. I do also think like I'm a person whose very willing to have a conversation in the comments which like... Idk not congrous with current ao3 culture hahaha.

I also really appreciate when people say my fic is like.... very understandable but still has a lot to say because that makes me very proud (especially because I don't consider myself a very strong writer... I consider myself middling in both quality and popularity). I also really appreciate stuff from my friends bc like... They know me, yknow? But anyway, I really do appreciate all comments but that's a bit of what makes a comment special!!

Anyway... That's the gist!!! Thank you for the questions and I'm sorry if I accidentally said something cruel in all my rambling. I would say this is fairly accurate to how I read and comment and I hope it's interesting at the very least!!! Please feel free to weigh in with your thoughts/comment strategy etc as well!!!!

[2-lines-and-a-circle]

Hi! I was hoping for a letter matchup for the flavor of love event?

I go by Howl and my pronouns are they/them. I’m in the English server and I’ve finished all available chapters. I have no preference as to romantic or platonic relationships because I’m Demisexual/romantic so as long as it’s quality™️ I’d be happy. I also have no preference to situation of the letter so anything goes. I was also sorted into Heartslabyul by the magic online sorter. I have never played an otome game before but I’ve played monster prom which is pretty close. My favorite character from that was Zoe or Damian 😔

In terms of personality it really depends because I’m fairly…intense. And contradictory. I can notice small stuff about people, but I usually miss major signs (I have accidentally woo’d many people in my obliviousness), I alternate between being clever and good at strategizing and walking headfirst into a brick wall. I tend to break up or dissipate fights but the minute I’m in one myself I won’t back down until I’ve won. I have an extremely strong sense of justice but I’m also really vengeful and can be shady when I need to be. I have often intimidated others in presence alone (despite being 5’7”?) and also had a lot of people think I’m innocent and sweet. I love making people laugh and often give people gifts just cause I was thinking about them, and I love spending quality time with people and acting like an idiot for their amusement alone. I also used to give a lot of advice therapy to people and was often called by my friends in emergencies. Not sure if that was a good idea on their part but nonetheless I can keep my calm under that kind pressure. Also I hate pranks because I was ~bullied~ *jazz hands*

I have also been told that I don’t smile a lot. I do not know if this is true because I often think I’m smiling and people say I look pissed off so. There’s that

I definitely walk the line between villain and princess because on one hand I was once considered my old choir’s ‘mom’ (someone made me a little medal that said that once, it was so sweet) but on the other hand I made my pre-law teacher cry so like.

In terms of who I’d hang out with at NRC I think I’d probably float a bit but I’d spend some time with Floyd. I feel like he’d get a kick out of trying to watch me dance (I have zero coordination) and possibly Lilia because I’m a music lover and will talk about music theory for hours given the chance. Possibly also Ortho or Idia because I enjoy doing art and animation in my spare time and spending quiet time in dark spaces

I think I’m probably on team white chocolate because I’m very devoted to the people I care about and often in weird situations but I could also be team strawberry due to having a bit of bite

I’m definitely pro team white but team mint do be lookin like fun sometimes. And team strawberry is always reliable...

I hope this is okay I think I answered all the questions. It’s my first time doing one of these so I hope I didn’t do something wrong or do anything to offend 😅💕

Here is the link to the letter: 2 Lines & A Circle : Flavor of love matchup! Letter edition! (tumblr.com)

Also I'm very sorry about taking forever on this!