#Streaming Classics

[royalarchivist]

Quackity: There's something that I've seen on Twitter–

Technoblade: Oh god, Twitter... 😑

Quackity: And I'm gonna– and I'm gonna pull it up on– No no no, it's nothing bad! I'm gonna pull it on my screen–

Technoblade: Oh, there's nothing good on Twitter...

Quackity: It's your bio, it's your bio. And I've always overthought this, I always overthink this, right? And it says "The second thing- the second worst thing to ever happen to these orphans." What does that mean, Technoblade?

Technoblade: It means that... I was the second worst thing to ever happen to those orphans.

Quackity: And what– [Laughs] What's the first worst thing to- to happen to those orph- orphans?

[Techno stares at him in silence]

Technoblade: Quackity, they– They weren't always orphans.

Quackity: [Smile falls as he realizes what that means] 😀 → 😦

[saint-hymn]

a minor inconvenience, really

[preraphaelitepaintings]

Narcissus

Artist: John William Waterhouse (English, 1849–1917)

Date: 1912

Material: Oil on canvas

Collection: Private collection

Description

John William Waterhouse is very famous for his use of the Pre-Raphaelite style. Most of his pieces express classical mythology, historical subjects, and British poetry. He is known for his great proficiency in oils and watercolors. Narcissus was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1912.

The exquisite oil painting on canvas displays a woman picking flowers in a field. According to the Greek mythology by Ovid, Narcissus was the son of the river god Cephissus and the nymph Liriope. Narcissus had been promised to live to an old age if only he would not look at his reflection, and so he rejected all women who fell in love with him and would not look at himself. Eventually, he was subdued by Echo, a woman who was deeply hurt by his rejection that she caused the Goddess Nemesis to strike Narcissus that he may look at his reflection in a pool and fall in love with himself. Narcissus then looked at his reflection in the pool till he died.

This story gives origin to the narcissus flower, which grew where Narcissus died. The flower grows almost anywhere but prefers well-drained soil with a sunny or light shade environment. The masterpiece of oil on canvas is set in a beautiful wooded landscape, seemingly with a stream and rocky edges. Wildflowers grow there too, and a young lady is bent picking them. Her countenance is downcast in the flowers. In her other hand, she holds a bunch of already picked flowers. She is dressed in a red dress, perhaps to symbolize love or a burning passion. The flowers she is picking are the narcissus flowers. Waterhouse was always keen to use colours, patterns, and simple objects for symbols of the old mythologies. The Narcissus would be no different. This wonderful work of art brings out his genius with the oils on canvas as he seemingly brings every aspect to life as rich in meaning.

Waterhouse was much influenced and inspired by Greek Mythology and works by Homer, Ovid, Shakespeare, and Keats, among other famous writers and poets from the time. His most common theme from these sources was femme fatale, the woman who ensnares a man. Most of Waterhouse's subjects were women from Greek Mythology, historical or literary texts. Often, he used live models, family, and friends to be his subjects, creating a great mix of the old and new as he used symbolism from the mythologies around current

[from-a-spiders-web]

Sir Samuel Luke Fildes: Hours of Idleness, 19th cen.

[jimmysgoggles]

Ayrton Senna (Tokyo, 1987)

They have, of course, in Alain Prost one of the best if not the best driver in Formula 1.

[carefulzombie]

Doctor Who - The Tenth Planet (1966)

[thelvadams]

americans about to experience peak sci-fi

[sprinklesharkie]

martyn and doc in the ring NOW!

[xxplastic-cubexx]

feeling like sid with all this parts swapping

[ththghts]

03.12.25 // a peaceful morning study session at an old library of arts and music…

i happened to stumble upon a small, privately-owned library while looking for parking on my way to picking up a pre-lecture coffee. i felt inexplicably drawn to the place from its exterior alone, and when i noticed they were selling books out front, i was completely convinced to go and browse.

i was soon exploring the place, eventually finding a corner where i could tuck myself away and begin studying. it’s such a gorgeous library, with such an unparalleled sense of peace brought about just by soaking in the environment there; i’ll definitely be returning.

🎧 | some classical music i listened to that morning

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

I'm kind of obsessed with Blackwall's idealized ideas about the Wardens. He was once picked up by a Warden and lulled by the promise of atoning for his crimes and turning his life around, only for that opportunity to slip away when the Warden not only saved him, but sacrificed his own life to do it. This whole experience makes our Blackwall become a Warden in heart, if not in blood, but with his own ideas of what a Grey Warden should be - noble, brave, inspiring, heroic, self-sacrificial. Everything he now wants to embody. He knows well that he's not there, but he wants nothing more than to start from scratch and be that.

In his beliefs, he reminds me a bit of Wynne in Origins who tells the Warden at some point that the Grey Wardens are supposed to be more than killing machines and weapons against the blight.

“There’s more to being a Grey Warden than killing darkspawn and saving the world from the Blight. Ultimately, being a Grey Warden is about serving others, about serving all people, whether elves or dwarves or men. As a Grey Warden, you are a guardian of men. And you guard them because their continued existence is more important than you are.”

However, we know that's not exactly how it works. That's what they want the Wardens to be. The light against darkness. The shield against monsters.

Although it's not entirely wrong, either, I suppose, all things considered. The more darkspawn they obliterate and push back, the more people are protected from them. Of course, sacrificing their lives to fight literal monsters, which means those same monsters don't eat everybody's kids, ultimately is heroic, and it's something that must have been born out of the need to protect the world and its inhabitants (from the Blight). But to have idealized opinions of the Wardens to this degree, you have to ignore all the other shady stuff and the mentality we, as players, also know the Wardens for. The fact that the Wardens are primarily weapons to slay darkspawn, prevent and end Blights, by any means necessary. The last part is important. After all, they are the Grey Wardens, not the White Wardens. They recruit from all walks of life and are famous for taking in criminals. Not to redeem themselves and get a second chance at life, but because they usually have nowhere to go and nothing left to lose. It's not a coincidence that each of the Origins gets chosen by Duncan, not only because he sees them as capable, but also because they are in a situation they can't escape from. Either they join the Wardens, or they're done for.

We know the Wardens from a few games now, but does the public in the setting even know? Does the average person have any idea how far the Wardens are willing to go? Besides grand stories of slaying monsters in the dark and preventing the end of the world? Probably not. The order is very secretive. And it explains a lot. The Wardens end up sounding almost romantic, when being a Warden is anything but. Is it ignorance talking out of these characters? Perhaps.

It once again shows us this aspect of Dragon Age where you can't take everything a character says as a fact, because the setting is full of people who have no idea what they're talking about, but who are absolutely convinced that they do.

And yet, I can't help but also like Wynne's and Blackwall's romantic ideas about what the Wardens are or should be, almost knights in shining armour and all that. They're fairy tales, but they're beautiful fairy tales. And I can't fault the characters for wanting to believe it or even live it. Especially in case of Blackwall, who sees it as a way to make up for the crimes he committed, somewhat. In the end, this might actually be a bigger draw to join the Wardens than, "Got nowhere to go? Come suffer horribly and probably die gruesomely with us!" It all sounds great on paper, though. I can't fault Davrin for trying to find purpose in life by becoming a monster hunter, either.

And maybe a little bit of idealism doesn't hurt. Not only it's good motivation, but in the end, doing things by "any means necessary" doesn't always pay off, either. It led the Wardens into all kinds of trouble, like getting tricked into employing dangerous forms of blood magic and demon summoning, basically into doing their enemy's work for them. In their determination to win at any cost, they helped trigger a cataclysmic event. Maybe having some principles isn't so bad after all.

In the end, I can appreciate that we get to see the clash of the old and new blood in Veilguard, where there's hope for the order to transform into an organization that's less secretive, less exclusive, and hopefully less prone to letting corruption spread through its ranks and make other devastating mistakes. Duncan once said that letting people join the Wardens isn't an "act of charity", and I like how Evka and Antoine go, "Yeah, you know what? Fuck that." And that likely inspires more loyalty. I imagine Blackwall would like that.

[pondhue]

oh pondue where art thou have gone

[sttmh]

porfavor mesmo que seja só um rascunho 🙏 a cena angst do classic e o reaper conversando pela primeira vez sobre os resets, seria ouro puro!!!

Here is a lightly edited preview! Future revisions may change details, but this idea of how stats change over resets has been something I've been thinking about for nearly the whole extent of STTMH.

Sans liked to take his naps, Reaper decided. Or maybe it was regular sleep? Reaper wasn't that familiar with mortals' day-to-day, but even he could see that Sans spent an unusual amount of time horizontal on the ground. Or maybe it was something specific to whatever world Sans was from?

Reaper's frown deepened. There were too many unknowns surrounding his alternate that Reaper did not like. He especially despised that Life was so willing to open her grove to him, even offering to give herself and Reaper (without asking him, Reaper might add) nicknames for the duration of his stay.

And Reaper despised liars.

Sans shifted, his sockets opening slowly. His eyelights flickered to life a moment later, and he jerked back, slamming his skull into the tree he leaned against. Reaper snorted, drifting back slightly to give him space. Sans rubbed the back of his skull and blinked.

"uh, hi," Sans greeted, slyly smiling.

Reaper raised a browbone and cocked his skull, amused. Sans seemed to have trouble talking with him sometimes. Maybe it was because Reaper was technically also Sans, but Reaper liked to attribute it to the fact that, according to Sans, gods didn't even exist in his world. Reaper couldn't understand how that was even possible, but neither could he understand how another him could exist as a mortal. Reaper was fairly certain he would go mad.

"why don't we have a chat?" Reaper hummed, crossing his legs underneath him as he hovered.

"we kinda already are, but sure," Sans snickered, his smile fading as Reaper leaned forward, his invisible eyelights sweeping over Sans's form.

"i've been wondering this for a while," Reaper continued, his voice mockingly critical. "but why is your lv one?"

He could see the moment the question processed, and Sans's sockets widened with a hint of shock and fear. Reaper leaned back, smirking in satisfaction with Sans's reaction.

"what makes you ask?" Sans asked, and Reaper swallowed the urge to mention that Sans's mask was slipping.

"i've judged countless mortals," Reaper hummed lightheartedly, and he snorted at the strange look that came across Classic's face at the wording. "and i've never seen a soul like yours."

Sans glanced sideways, his gaze distant for a moment as he doubtless checked himself. "i... don't understand," Sans struggled. "i have a lv of one because i haven't killed anyone."

"you're lying," Reaper sighed in disappointment. "on both of those."

Sans raised his face, staring at him.

"do you honestly not know? shouldn't you mortals at least know the breadth of the sins you've commited?" A sort of dawning realization crossed Classic's face, and Reaper leaned back as he rolled his sockets. "i guess all mortals are the same. how ignorant," he mocked.

It seemed Reaper had hit a chord, and Sans bristled. Reaper shrugged with indifference. Sans rapidly mellowed and glanced at the grass under him, his sockets narrowing. Reaper waited, leaning his chin on his hand as he counted the seconds.

"let me give you a hypothetical," Sans whispered, shifting uncomfortably.

"go on," Reaper hummed after Sans went quiet, his interest piqued.

"let's say there was a kind of time loop," Sans began, resolutely refusing to meet Reaper's gaze as he blinked. "if you gain a lv and then time resets, what would happen?"

[artfilmaesthetics]

Gena Rowlands in Love Streams (1984) dir. John Cassavetes ⋆˚࿔

[videogamesskies]

If you're into gaming like me, and if you're looking for retro assets for streaming, please consider shopping at my Etsy and Gumroad stores. Many of my creations are love letters to retro games and I made them with love and passion. I had fun streaming some Gameboy and NES games with these overlays, I hope you'll like them.

Best, -- T.

[namedvesta]

Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being (𝟣𝟫𝟪𝟦)