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st-clements-steps · 2 months

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Ohhh, crunchy! 2, 5, 6, 9, 10, 15, 24, 36, please :D

Hey, hey, hey, lovely, the questions are from here

2. A minor or extinct house you need more lore on; you think I'd go Mallister, but no, I want to be part of the people making the Mallister lore, I have stolen them from GRRM, they are mine now, I'll share them obviously with other patrek, patrek, patrek enthusiasts. All those really borderline magical houses intrigue me, House Reed and all the other Crannogmen please; the Knotts and the Liddells and the Flints of the mountains, all those nomadic northern ones; that one at the edge of the Iron Islands, House Farwynd, are they Selkies? Are they warging into seals? Are they just a little bit like Shetlanders? Also it's kind of basic bitch of me, but House Dayne, they're very bloody sexy but I just want to see their real depth. (Also were House Poole once Crannogmen, their name kind of fits?) 5. Dead female character I need to save: Kyra. Obviously. Also I really should save Elia because personal affinity reasons. And then I think I'd have to save Lyanna too (I have written a POV of an older, saved, her, thanks to Eva being galaxy brained, and oh it was so interesting). Also Dacey so I can marry her please. Plus let's save all the live women, Jeyne P. and Jeyne W. and Pia especially. 6. A book or character you didn't like at first but have come to love - had a difficult initial relationship with feast and at first I found Brienne's chapters tricky but I came to really enjoy them. (I love her and I love wee Pod). And I didn't dislike Arya at first, but I was a bit bored by her, she just seemed quite like all those tomboy preteens I'd read as kid, Scout and Lyra and Tyke Tiler (British 70s children's novel that was still the kind of thing forced upon you in English in 90s Britain). But actually once she gets to Braavos, I'm much more enthralled and the Mercy chapter, oh, it floors me. 9. Build your small council - Tyrion, Gilly, Missandei (even though she's 11), in fact let's go Shireen too, and Wex (master of whisperers), and then before Tyrion kills me for making it a model UN class project, Barbrey, Arianna, Davos, and one of Asha's ratboys to be master of ships (She's busy ruling the Iron Island in my head). 10. A quote so good it makes you crazy - Tyrion ruminating on the inevitability of history (and it feels like nature and nurture too, how generational trauma gets woven into us); It all goes back and back, Tyrion thought, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads. Theon arguing vociferously that trauma does not need to be physical; The noose I wore was not made of hempen rope, that's true enough, but I felt it all the same. And it chafed, Ser Rodrik. It chafed me raw. Sansa realising how her trauma has a molded her; My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. (I love this, I steal it for characterisation constantly, because being porcelain is such an interesting image especially)

And finally my boy Jon being a poet; The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond. Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even the mud puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice.

So there is magic beyond the Wall after all. He found himself thinking of his sisters, perhaps because he'd dreamed of them last night. Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it, but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all. 15. Favourite Parent - Cersei (she's a terrible parent I realise, but she's the only parent who lives in my pocket) 24. A ship that gives me the ick - Jon Arya (actually find shipping her with anyone very difficult, she's very 11 in my head, I know its weird because I ship Sansa with a whole raft of people and there's only 2 years between them, but it is what it is, but also for me the idea of them being romantic very much diminishes their current love for another, why does a heartfelt sibling (or platonic in some other sense) relationship need to be really just oh its actually all lust filled romance?) 36. All the dub-con, non-con that gets sexy, I'm just there scrunching my nose, wondering if there's something GRRM needs to properly address with his therapist rather than continually writing into asoiaf. Oh and the timelines piss me off no end, House Stark in charge of the North for 8000 years! Eight Bloody Thousand? Really? And there's been basically no systemic change in society over that time? Was feudal back then? Still feudal now? Hardly any linguistic evolvement over those thousands of years? Etc. Thanks so much.

#ask me things #I will talk about Robblematic soon too #I haven't been intellectualising weird asoiaf marginalia for ages #asoiaf

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tinyinvadr · 9 days

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Next chapter’s here!

Psychoborrower 2

Chapter 6

I stared in disbelief for the longest time. This was my first time seeing her in three years. She looked just like I remembered her, though a little disheveled.

I knew I was going to see her again eventually, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon. And I definitely didn’t expect her to have a human escort. Showing herself in front of humans, going to the Motherlobe, that went against everything she believed in. But she was willing to break her own rules for me.

There were tears in her eyes as she called out my name. Though, her voice came out more like a whisper. Mrs. Love set her down on the floor, and I motioned for Lili to do the same.

Mom ran to me and hugged me so tight that she almost knocked the wind out of me. She held me close for a minute, softly crying. It didn’t take long for me to start crying, too. I knew I had to have hurt her when I left, but the gravity of what I’d done had come crashing down in full force, and there was no more dismissing it.

After a while, she let go, smiling as she brushed my long, messy bangs out of my face.

“It’s really you… Oh, Flint, I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I’m sorry I ran off like that. I just… didn’t wanna be a danger to you and Dad anymore.”

She frowned, shaking her head.

“No, don’t apologize. You were never a danger to us. It was wrong of me to ever let you think that you were. I should have helped you learn to control your powers, not suppress them. I… can’t take back the way I acted back then, but I hope you can forgive me and give me the chance to be better.”

This time, it was my turn to tackle her with a hug.

“Of course, Mom.”

Neither of us spoke for about another minute or so, just glad to be in each other’s company again. Then, she broke the silence.

“Alright. Let’s go home.”

“Wait, what?”

“Your father and I came to an agreement with the Loves, they’re going to let us carry on with our lives in their home and not bother us. We can start over.”

I froze. I knew that was too easy. I knew she wasn’t going to just let me be a Psychonaut.

“Mom… I don’t wanna start over. I’m training to become a Psychonaut. I’ve got a life here. Friends.”

Lili stepped up behind me. Mom flinched for a second, but her expression turned into a glare as she looked up at her.

“He’s right, Mrs. Loveseat. He and Raz saved both me and my Dad a few days ago!”

“Oh yes, I read all about it in that scrapbook Phoebe brought home with her from camp. Tell me, is child endangerment a regular part of the curriculum here?”

I sighed. “Okay, fine, the past few days have been kind of hectic. But most of the time, it’s perfectly safe. The Second Head of the Psychonauts even has a borrower daughter, so there are already accommodations in place for her. Lemme talk to Agent Forsythe. Maybe you and Dad can stay here, too.”

She was about to argue with me, but was interrupted by a groaning sound coming from Mrs. Love’s purse. I watched as Dad pushed himself up out of the top, looking pale and dizzy.

“Maybe we should hear him out, honey. I don’t think I can stomach the trip back home right now.”

He sheepishly looked up at Mrs. Love, letting out a nervous laugh.

“I’m sorry about your purse. Motion sickness, y’know?”

I could tell she wasn’t pleased about him vomiting all over the inside of her purse, but she kept a straight face for his sake. I can appreciate that. Dad’s always been a nervous wreck. He didn’t need the added paranoia of knowing the big scary human was upset with him.

Mrs. Love picked him up, getting a startled yell from him in response, and she carefully put him down next to Mom. Once he was on solid ground, he threw his arm around her for support and hugged me with his other arm.

“Glad you’re okay, kiddo.”

“Thanks… You’re not gonna puke again, are you?”

“No, no, I’m good, I’m good. Just gonna stand here for a while and not… move.”

Mom sighed, giving him a quick peck on the forehead.

“I’ll get your father settled over at the campgrounds. Temporarily.”

“Mom, I really think you guys will like it here. This could be good for us. We can start fresh.”

She went quiet for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure how to put her response into words.

“I know it’s important to not dwell on the past. But Flint… there are some things that aren’t easy to let go of. I can’t in good conscience let you stay here unless I’m sure it’s safe.”

Without elaborating further, she walked off with Dad. I was about to call out and tell her that it was a really long walk, but they were already out the door.

Lili brought me back up to the lobby and we parted ways there. I was lost in thought by that point, unsure what to do or where to go. I figured it would be best to wait for Dad to get settled first before meeting back up with my parents, but I also wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone else in the meantime.

I stared off into space for a while, processing everything. The sights and sounds of the Motherlobe surrounding me all blurred together. It was all white noise. It felt like I couldn’t allow myself to appreciate anything because there was a good chance I’d lose it all.

I didn’t even notice Raz at first when he approached the coffee table I was standing on.

“Hey, Flint. I think my Dad’s here. Wanna go see him?”

“Not right now.”

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

I filled him in on everything that happened, and he listened intently.

“I’m sure they’ll come around once they see how nice it is here. I can help convince them, and I’m sure Lori would be on board, too.”

“That’s a nice gesture, but you don’t know my parents. They’re stubborn. And… they’re not entirely wrong. I mean, the whole thing with there being a mole in the Psychonauts hasn’t exactly been taken care of. If they find out about that, there’s no way I’ll be allowed to stay.”

Raz shrugged it off. “Well, I’ve got that covered.”

I eyed him, confused, and he quickly shut down as if he’d just told me something he shouldn’t have. Which, of course, only made me question him further.

“What do you mean by that? Do you know who it is?”

“No, but… Look, I’m sorry, I’ll tell you about it after I’m finished. I promised Grand Head Zanotto I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Raz, I don’t think a promise to an unconscious man is legally binding. What’s going on?”

“Hey, let’s go see my Dad!”

At that, he abruptly picked me up off the table and made a run for the exit.

Never in my life had I been this annoyed about seeing Augustus.

He brought me back to the reception area, and all of the interns had gathered there as well. I really lucked out in that they didn’t show up to meet my parents.

Augustus ran to us, overjoyed.

“There he is! My son, the Psychonaut! I’m so proud of you, Razputin. And Flint, good to see you again, too! I trust that you’ve been keeping my boy out of trouble.”

Well, I tried, at least.

“Yeah… sort of.”

He was oblivious to the hesitance in my answer and continued to ramble on about how excited he was for both of us. I thought it was sweet, though Raz looked kind of annoyed.

“It took some convincing, but I got the whole family to come out here and support you!”

Before Raz could question him further, he escorted us out the door, the interns following close behind us. Outside was a caravan, and Raz’s mother, siblings, and grandmother were already in the middle of an acrobatic routine.

After doing an elaborate leap and flip midair, his mother hugged him tight.

“My little Pootie!”

The other interns laughed at that, and I had to stifle a chuckle. Raz scowled.

“Whose side are you on?”

“I’m sorry, it’s a little funny, you’ve gotta admit it.”

His mom noticed me after I spoke, smiling brightly.

“Oh, and this must be your new little friend! What was your name again? Lint?”

The interns laughed at that one as well. At least it wasn’t Pootie.

“Um, no, it’s Flint.”

“Ah, my mistake! Well then, Aquatos, what do you say we do a quick routine for our new friend Flint?”

Raz looked like he was about to protest, but before he could speak, she scooped us both up in a swift motion, putting me on her shoulder and then throwing Raz to his older brother.

I watched as his siblings swung him around as if he was weightless. Even his little brother and sister used him as a jump rope for their grandmother. It was admittedly impressive, but I did feel bad. He was clearly not having it.

Luckily for him, Hollis came out when she heard the commotion and put a stop to the whole thing.

“Razputin, what is the meaning of this? Who are these people?”

His mom did another flip.

“I am Donatella Aquato, and we are the Aquato Family Circus! Masters of the acrobatic arts!”

“And you’re trespassing. This is a restricted area. Move that wagon to the campgrounds or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Augustus immediately intervened before things could escalate, and proposed that the family could support Raz perfectly fine from the campgrounds.

At that, I remembered my parents were also staying there, and I needed to go check up on them.

“Hey, um, Mrs. Aquato? I also need to go to the campgrounds. Can I go with you guys? It’s kind of a long walk for me. No idea how my parents did it.”

“Of course you can. Anything for the boy who helped save my Pootie!”

As everyone piled into the caravan, I noticed Raz hiding off in the corner, and I saw him sneak off towards another building. What was he hiding? And more importantly, why was he hiding it from me? All that trust we built, did it mean nothing?

I knew Sasha was right in that it wasn’t my responsibility to keep Raz out of trouble, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t wanna see him lose everything after he worked so hard. I had to try and catch up with him.

But first, I had to make sure Dad wasn’t still queasy.

#giant/tiny #g/t #giant tiny #g/t writing #psychonauts

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alexwatchesshows · 9 months

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Black Sails I (S1E1) review

Spoilers for up to and including E1.

What an introduction. I definitely have some problems with this first episode but I still have to admit that it's pretty great.

I have so much to say and don't really know how to structure it so this will be a bit all over the place.

We start with the cold open, which immediately seems to very much be playing into our ideas of what pirates are like and what we'd expect from a pirate show-- they're viscious, dangerous, wild, nobody survives the-- and, at the peak of this fear, Captain Flint's name is first mentioned. He is the one who, for the merchants, embodies this reputation, and this is the first impression we get of him. We also meet John Silver for the first time and he is... slippery. Whether or not the audience is sold on Silver yet I'm not sure (I was, but I know many people weren't), but he, like us, is the newcomer to this situation. It's made very clear from the start that all he wants to do is survive, by whatever means necessary. Anything else is more or less optional. He's also smart and scrappy, with good intuition-- he recognises the importance of the page almost immediately and picks up on the cook's ideas of making himself valuable and uses them to his advantage.

Then, after the theme and credits (which are brilliant, by the way), we get an entirely different view of the pirates. Whereas before they were highly feared, painted as monsters who couldn't be beaten, we see them as men who are just going about their jobs. Immediately, they are humanised. The pirate (we later learn his name is Joshua) who caused so much fear with his pointed teeth is now portrayed as joking and a little immature, a beloved "brother" of the crew. Fear is just another weapon that the pirates use to get what they want with as little resistance as possible, not something most of them genuinely embody in their day to day lives. We also get an insight into the politics of piracy, in Singleton's speech to the merchants. Pirates stand for indepence, equality, taking what they're owed, in comparisson to the merchants who were frequently underpaid and exploited. They aren't monsters who raid ships for the joy of killing, they're men who want to earn what they deserve. Through Flint and Gates's conversation, we also learn that the power structure among crews is much more democratic-- a captain can be voted in or out by the crew. This, for Flint, is a problem. Even the merchant captain can tell that he can't control his crew, that his reputation among them is slipping, and that he desperately needs the win that the stolen schedule will provide to keep them on board. In this whole situation, I have to say I love Gates's reaction the most. He's officially Done With Flint's Bullshit (TM) and Too Old For This Shit (TM) as he begs Flint to just fucking tell the truth (nobody ever does in this show but still, it is a good idea).

You know who else is lying his ass off? Silver. He's putting Randall out of a job and somehow still avoiding suspicion. I don't have much to say about his interaction with Billy other than that Billy's comment of "here, every man is equal" is a very good summary of what we've seen of the pirates so far, especially in comparison to the lives of the merchants.

Look, I hate the Blackbeard scene. I just hate it. I don't have much to say about it other than that it's unnecessary and in poor taste and also undermines the whole pirate reputation thing. What I do want to talk about, however, is Max and Silver as a duo. We've already established that Silver is scrappy, but he's met his match in Max. Honestly, the two of them together should be unstoppable. It looks like they have the same goals-- personal profit, survival, and getting the hell away from Nassau-- and between the two of them, they sure as hell have the smarts to do it. Or at least they would, if it wasn't for that damn feather.

Meanwhile, Flint is making poor life choices, and Billy ("who's Billy?") is very quickly joining Gates in the Done With Flint's Bullshit (TM) group but, for Flint, this is apparently a great moment to win him over. Or so he thinks. Flint is apparently not aware of how deep the distrust of him runs. His whole "unlucky" vs. "too weak" conversation with Billy is giving "my worst trait is perfectionism"-- the man cannot see how badly he is fucking up. Similarly, he believes his stories will win Richard Guthrie over (I mean, he's a great storyteller, but he has better moments) and that Billy will join him in endangering the crew's future profits. Billy, on the other hand, is proving himself to be more than just Gates's right hand man/son. That move with the gun pointed at Flint-- showing Flint that he won't follow him blindly, but not undermining him in front of RG (who would only have heard the click of the pistol, not see who it was pointed at-- was honestly boardering on genius. Billy's good with people, not in the same was as Flint and Silver, but he's still good.

Then we get a brief British empire cameo, just so we can see who we're fighting against I guess. The whole "gossip is what holds society together. It reinforces shame," thing is a decent way of introducing the enemy, but it does feel a tad forced into the broader plot. It does give Flint a good basis for his speech to Billy. This is one of his better speeches, even if his "I am your king" moment entirely undermines the democracy that he claims he's fighting for and, as we later see, it does succeed in winning Billy over. He also explicitly states a number of the themes we've already been introduced to-- the portrayal of pirates as monsters (so the empire can discriminate against them blindly) and the battle against civilisation. More on this in later episodes, I guess.

Back on Nassau, we get more Eleanor. We got a little Eleanor earlier, but the whole barging in and swearing at people doesn't really do very much. Whether it's a misguided attempt at portraying a "strong" female character, or a flaw in the acting, I don't know, but she does come off as a little 2D. Punching Vane is a bold move though, although Vane is clearly willing to give as good as he gets (and I have to admit that I respect him for it) and calls her out on her bullshit, exposing (in a slightly backstory-dump way) their whole complicated history. Then we get a little Eleanor and Max. It's hard to tell what exactly the nature of their relationship is right now (i.e. is it romantic or just sexual, etc.) but the whole thing does seem a little male-gazey (I promise it does get better). We get a little bit of Jack and Anne (my beloved blorbos), and the whole Mosiah thing, but I don't have much to say about that.

Then, we have the ending scene. We start with Flint's spectacular emotional processing skills (throwing furniture) and the Feather of Plot Convenience (TM) (like, seriously, how does one feather tell him that someone's broken in, especially after he just threw a bunch of furniture around?). Flint finally decides to tell the crew some of the truth, but can't help interspercing it with his trademark Complete Lies. Admittedly, he's great at spinning things to his advantage. Politicians would love him. All of this to get a fight. Singleton and Flint, at least to start with, have very different fighting styles. Flint seems much more poised, taking on specific positions and making less broad sweeping moves than Singleton. This does more or less deteriorate over the course of the fight as he does lose control a little bit. In some ways, he reminds me of stories of Viking beserkers-- essentially just seeing red and going overboard. The crew stops cheering the more he beats the shit out of the already unconscious and probably dead Singleton. It's just not a good look. That glare with the blood-soaked face though, that is a good look, or at least a compelling look. To further cement his power, he brings Billy over to his side by getting him to lie about the page. Poor Billy, we've already seen that he stands for honesty and fairness and now Flint's getting to him too. Then, as a final touch, we get that brilliant "princes of the new world" speech. For someone who's steadfastly anti-monarchy, he sure does love comparing himself to the monarchy, but still, I think it speaks more broadly to the idea of seizing power, riches, and indepence. Something about this blood-soaked pirate compels me.

This is a great first episode. It tells enough of its own story to feel somewhat satisfying on its own, but leaves enough hooks of broader plot points to drag you in. This is only the beginning, it says.

#my posts #spoiler #tv shows #tv #tv show review #episode review #tv reviews #black sails #black sails spoilers #black sails review

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popculturebuffet · 1 year

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Sam and Max Beyond Time and Space Retrospective: Moai Better Blues (Patreon Review for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy freelance police and welcome back to my look at the sam and max telltale games! We're onto season 2 episode 2. After a little christmas in august we're having a science fiction double feature for halloween as this review ended up behind due to a new member of the family.

This is Maddie. She's 5, she's precious, she's very loud , and she's very attached to me.

But even new fluffy good girls with spangly collars can't stop the march of sam and max.

Following up from our heroes adventures in the north pole, this ep finds our heroes dealing with an adventure that's weird even by sam and max standards. And I want to let that sink in because we spent last season stopping a child star hynosis crime ring, starring in a one episode sitcom with a british chicken don knotts, inflitrating a mafia chuck e cheese, running for president against a horny lincoln memorial, murdering the internet and finally facing down with a sentient plankton colony via psychic powers and magic tricks on the moon. And that's not even getting into that guy who would never put his hands down. What was his deal?

So what lies in the greatest mountain of sam and max madness? Stoned Moai, triangular portals, sea monkeys, ghost godlfish, baby jimmy hoffa and horny statue love triangles. So join me under the cut for the madness.

We open with our heroes returning from the North Pole a month after the previous game, with it now snowing, providing a nice atmosphere to things. Before they can get back to the usual banter some fresh nonsense comes in: A triangle chasing their beloved friend Sybil.

It has a neat design too, red, pulsating with lines... it's an excellent triangle all things considered. B+

At any rate we need to stop it, so we go to the wisest sage for weird shit there is: Bosco. It's a nice way to keep him still useful while not having him be one of your item guys. Bosco is getting ready to bunker down from T.H.E.M.

But tells our hero their new foe is a bermuda triangle, an eldtirch shape that sucks people up to another place, and can only be stopped with most of the shapes. Most.. never come into play and are just for a good joke, like blue polyheadrons making them really want to roll them dice and maybe start a live play with a dungeon master with long hair and the voice of god.

The important one is red hexagons stop them.. and the game was REALLY unhelpful with this one. I did have my hints flavor blasted up to the maximum max could do without bursting a kidney.. but he just kept saying the shape and outright told me to go back to the office.. where it entirely wasn't. WE do have a new trophy though, boxing betty. So.. that's nice?

The solution lies in Stinky's diner, where i'd gone earlier since the Cops can't do buisness over the sound of screaming. Amateurs. Stinky can though even with the racket outisde and gives us a granite sandwitch that i'm pretty sure just.. sat in my inventory all chapter. Seriously you don't relaly use it for anything even when you think it'd be obvious like replacing a stone max's ear, and it's more just to set up getting a basalt sandwich from her later. It's on the kid's menu only though.

She is useful in that she has a stop sign for you and with some spray paint from your headquaters, you can make it deep red. Before we go though another beloved supporting character makes a cameo: Flint Paper. I just love how despite being grizzly and willing to beat up random strangers for money, as are we, Flint just.. cheerfully greets our heroes with a hey fellas every time. He's just so happy to see our heroes and they have a deep genuine admiration for him. Like with Sybil in the first episodes, it's nice to see someone our heroes actually like and unlike Sybil, it's nice to see there's at least one person they haven't traumtized. Yet. He's watching Bosco for Bosco's Mom who'se understandably worried about her son because you know, his whole deal.

For now though we go to stop the triangle in the name of love... only for hilariously this all to be mostly pointless as once Sybil stops, Abe shows up , gets sucked in and she goes after him. It's off to Easter Island!

Turns out Sybil and Lincoln are fine and are just enjoying the nice weather. Once again.. this is a dead end puzzle wise as the two are just there to move their subplot along. Unlike the sandwich though, it's at least entertaning.. and mildly creepy as Abe perves on one of the moai present.

Why the bermuda triangle lead to easter island.. is not something we'll be getting into here. What matters is the moai see sam and max as their savior. Well the middle one, a kindly lady moai abe's creeping ion, is. The left one has half his face buried and is contstantly upset, projecting storm clouds when pissed off that are naturally useful, and the right one is

And is largely useless, mostly just sniping at you.

Each has a power of the elements: Rain for the buried one, wind for the nice one and earth for the pedantic douchebag. The fire one was sadly was scattered to the winds long ago, but he did leave behind a son at least to carry on his legacy

At any rate before we can use the powers of nature itself for fun and profit, we have some problems: As it turns out the nearbye volcano is about to erupt and murder them all due to some understandable but tragic errors

Problem is someone's guarding his lair... and if you haven't played the game yourself, I warn you: You are not remotely ready. I sure wasn't. So whose in our heroes way? Why it's Jimmy HOffa in the body of a baby!

Yeah... look I love Sam and Max for being so gloriously weird. Weird as hell is one of my faviorite kinds of humor as long as their's direction behind the chaos. But It's still easily the biggest what the fuck moment the franchise has thrown me so far and that's with this happening last chapter

youtube

Granted I got spoiled there is some sort of payoff to the Mariachis via a thumbnail, and there is some actual logic behind this.. but even for this franchise "Jimmy Hoffa whose in the body of an infant because he drank too much from the fountain of youth pointing a gun at yoU" is a bit much. And more to the point they NEVER explain why he's working for the episodes big bad.

I.. can't help but love it though BECAUSE it's such a uniquely stupid swing: they had this idea, found a way to have it logically make sense and then put it in the game in full, all while giving us a ton of great jokes as Sam cannot ressit teasing him on the fact he's a baby.

We'll deal with this teamster later, for now we meet the other rugrats on this island: Amelia Earheart, DB Cooper, and The LIndburgh Baby... .

Their mostly here to set up a surfboarding mini game which frustrated me. It's not the game itself, it's a fun enough little distraction if fairly hard to get the analogue controls down on my switch version. It felt like the kind of browser game i'd play as a kid.

My annoyance.. is that the game dosne't tell you that you get nothing for it until you've triggered the right story event. So I went through the whole thing for nothing. Thankfully I also enabled mini game skipping.... I still will TRY not to use it often as these are part of the game and thus need to be evaluated as much as the point and click parts, but in this case i'd already done the actual task so when it asked me to again. As for why again, the trick to getting rid of our little friend involves serving him a drink, using a tiki glass you can pick up at the bar those dumb babies are at. But he'll only take union waitstaff, so you have to play the game to get cerfitied by him. IT makes about as much sense as it sounds. Ah back to normal for this franchise.

To actually do anything though we need some fountain of youth water unfortunately there's something in it

So to take care of them we have to complete a few other tasks

First is the COPS. As i'm guessing is standard for every chapter,we have another driving VR Game from them, this time a fun rythum based one with the beats going as you drive on them. THey thought it'd change the world.. those poor dumb bastards. It's clearly a jab at guitar hero, but it's a decent challenge while still being a lot of fun.

With that we get a car horn and that's the key to our next puzzle: We need to help Glenn Miller, a wwII era band leader whose also now a baby, stage his comback by giving him that new sound he's been looking for. Since the horn plays i've been workin on the railroad, it's just the ticket. He just needs a whistle sound, which you easily get by dumping some gasoline disguised as a drink into a nearbye fire, setting off a tea kettle. He gives you a conch with the single recorded on it. Apparently The Bermuda Triangles also visited skypeia.

Using the dial, we can finally solve our pirahana puzzle.. in theory. In practice it's utterly frustrating if you can't figure out the trick, not helped by Max CONSITENTLY telling me to use the thunder storm moai.

Breaking it down: using the glen miller dial conch, you play it for the nice moai, which gets her whistling. Now when you tick off her half buried friend next to you, which naturally max does with ease and maybe too much glee.. in fact i'm starting a " Going to Hell For This" counter, for each time we ruin someone's life, torture them or what have you to progress, or just for funzies, as we did it a LOT last season and so far have done it a lot. Now I"ll make acceptions for say outright villians or people who deserve it. And even then it'/s about proportions. For example, pelting the soda poppers with urine and bleach? Acceptable, their the soda poppers. Need I say more. But even if Jimmy Two Teeth sucks a LOTTT, nearly driving him to unalive himself is a bit much, not helped by Max's reaction essentially being

He certainly thought it hard enough. So we'll count that one, still keeping leonard hostage after almost a year, sending santa to hell (even if he was possesed), and not bothering to actually help save christmas. So going into this episode we have

Things We're Going To To Hell For: 4 And we can add from this episode taunting that poor moai.

Things We're Going to Hell Fort: 5

So I assumed both from the hint ONLY mentoing the moai , who creates a little storm cloud when uspet and the wind we were supposed to blow it at jimmy hoffa. Instead... it does nothing. It just dissipates if blown too far and never gets near him. Instead we use the portals, which are frustrating as the game makes it clear the two near the entrance are connected.. but dosen't make it clear EVERY portal is connected this way.

The solution is to open one by the fountain of youth, then open another next to the underground moai, have the good moai blow the cloud and boom, a LOT of dead pirhanas and a free fountain of youth. Also

Things We're Going To Hell For: 6

And with that we can use the glass to scoop some up, give it to hoffa... and blink him out of existance. THings We're Going To Hell For: Still 6 (He Deserved It Yo) It's REALLY sad when killing someone by making them age themselves out of existance isn't the worst thing we've done today. Or even this month.

This event also moves along Sybil's subplot for the season and who boy. Strap yourselves in because I haven't seen a character nosedive this fast in many moons. So the whole episode, Abe and Sybil have been picnicking, only doing that on Abe's suggestion.. and only so he can oggle the middle good moai. Yeah after several episodes of at worst being out of touch and mildly annoying.. abe's somehow lept straight to the bottom and is perving on someone right in front of his girlfriend and THEN asks her to have plastic surgery to look more like the moai.

Sybil runs off in tears.. and SOMEHOW, SOMEHOW, this gets worse... as Abe THEN tries to hit on the moai. To her credit she shoots him down fast and we get a great response out of him, a casual "that's fair". So he's still funny he's just WAY more of an asshat. I mean granted we just committed two murders in a row, so i'd SAY we can't judge.. but those murders were to save a LOT of lives from death and were of a bunch of fish and a murderous infant man.

Anyways with this we enter our final puzzle set, continuing from the formula laid out last time. Sadly.. they also fall into a fairly trite, terrible stereotype. It's forgivable enough for the time.. but it's still pretty tone deaf. I can't blame them for fixing it as unlike the various lines corrected for save the world, this is a large part of the plot and thus really coudn't be futzed with.. but it's still not great.

Okay so for our final stretch our heroes run into your standard tone deaf "the natives are stupid and belivie anything is their god" plot only this time it's sea monkeys.

Yeah.. they.. really coudl've thought this one out a bit more. We have to convince them max is their god/chosen one/whatever instead, in order to replace an old advesary: Mr. Spatula, sam and max's goldfish whose mad he's died and thus is willing to take an island with him. Now you may recall, even if I didn't name him last time, he died. And he did. THIS IS HIS GHOST.

So to prove ourselves we have to do three tasks. The first is easy and I stumbled into accidently: We have to make the water into BANANG!, an energy drink powder bosco happens to have a lot of.

To get it away from him, we have to torment him.. again. This time we simply radio in, claim to be THEM

And Bosco goes deeper underground, there's too much panic in this town. So we got the powder.. but we also traumtized a friend for life so

Things We're Going To Hell For: 7

Next is adding an ear to a rock formation that looks like max. Once again the sandwitch is useless.. except as a clue. We finally need that basalt sandwitch for kidz, so it's time to use the fountain of youth water on ourselves.. and ONCE AGAIN the game gets frustrating as you transform back very fast from drinking it. The trick is to use a gong I honestly forgot about in Stinky's diner max reminded me of. I can't tell if I just suck at adventure games or this is poor level design.

Anyways we get the Basalt and get a really funnys equence with douchecanoe moai as it turns out dude just needed to blaze it and basalt gets moai REALLY good and fucked up. With that he casually laughs and dislodges a stalctite we use to finish the max.

We then finish this section. The stone feet of the buried moai are needed to anoit us. Also yes they have hands and arms stuck in there. We simply use the shell again, this time on a portal next to the best moai , she whistles, he taps his toes and we win. Kinda.

Problem is the island's still errupting with Mr Spatula planning to take us with it. The only way to stop it? Some clever puzzlery. We get a high preist medallion from the Sea Monkeys, dip it in some red slime, then shoot the triangle, using the portals to send the red triangle through it , eating the lava.. and presumibly murdering someone but we won't worry about that. Our ride home is gone though but Abe offers a lift while the moai celebrate.. before being sad they can't move. Then their abducted by what seems to be aliens!

Moai Better Blues... is a very mixed bag. The writing as usual is hilarious, and while it's a very

Sort of chapter, it's a FUNNY sort of what the fuck is this, from the various babies, to the black comedy shenanigans as usual, to our heroes riding out on Lincoln's head. It continues episode 1's mean streak, but the weirder setting and more over the top weird black comedy bits like unexistinsing hoffa help it feel far less opressive than last time. The deaths and what we do to bosco are way more over the top. Even abe and sybil's breakup, acompained by the mysterious maraichi's, is more funny than genuinely sad. I DO feel bad for Sybil, but abe is such a dick and he gets karmically punished for it as the moai lady SHARPLY rejects him, multiple times if you want, and he looses Sybil.

Gameplay wise.. it's a lot more obtuse. A lot more relying either on memory (Which isn't good for me but is at least fair) or hoping you figure it out and with most of the max clues being way less helpful. It's a pretty meh chapter all things considered and hopefully as we get spooky next time, we also get back to our quality. Speaking of which

Next Time: VAMPIRES! Just in time for the season. And since it's the 2000's their angsty emo eurotrash vampires! Oh BoY! Thanks for reading!

#sam and max #sam and max beyond time and space #sam x ma #sybil pandemik #abraham lincoln #jimmy hoffa #db cooper #amelia earhart #bosco #c.o.p.s.#video games #telltale games #skunkape games

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wuxiaphoenix · 1 year

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Worldbuilding: Blood Relations

Who are your characters related to? Biologically, and otherwise?

(Including otherwise because if someone animates a gargoyle statue and then adopts it, I think that counts as a relation. Though that may depend on the world and the sentience of all involved.)

The Orphan with a Plot Trinket is a trope for a reason, but part of that reason is that the story should eventually uncover that the character’s not a nameless orphan after all. There’s a heritage. A history. An ancestor (usually recent, sometimes not) whose reputation you have to live up to. Or, in the case of a dhampir or the last living descendant of the Great Evil Necromancer Who Slaughtered Empires, live down. So it goes.

Reputations, social connections, are important. Evolutionary biologists can talk about the importance of bipedalism, hand-eye coordination, or the human liver’s ability to detoxify various poisons like caffeine and the stuff in alliums that straight-out kills other mammals. Those are all good “in the moment” survival bits, yes. But for long-term survival that allows us to live, thrive, and reproduce, humans rely on our ability to get help from other humans. Social cooperation, not the best flint-knapping, is what truly allowed our species to get this far.

There are many factors influencing how well we cooperate with others. Things that, shall we say, grease the squeaky social wheels of trying to get along with another potential competitor. Looks are one of them, drat it all. Social skills, also a regrettable must. (Though social skills were a lot easier for the more awkward of us to master when there were known rules of etiquette to memorize and adhere to. So long as you followed the rules you probably wouldn’t get in trouble unless someone with ill intent was trying to throw a fit. Probably.)

But for as long as there have been humans, one of the most reliable ways to find an ally is to be related to them. Families you’re born to. Families you’re adopted into. Families you marry into. So long as things went well and everyone followed some basic moral standards like “don’t stab relatives in the back”, those families were your closest support, and best source of resources.

If you’re writing a story about it, probably something has gone wrong. It doesn’t have to be in your character’s family. Could be external events; famine, plague, and war. Though way too many wars have gotten started as family fights; see contributing factors to WWI, the War of the Roses, and Duke William invading England.

A messed-up supervillain family is a classic. And if you’ve got a tragedy like Romeo and Juliet, you’ve got multiple messed-up families striking sparks off each other.

You don’t need a detailed family tree for your hero. But some basic background info is a good idea, even if it never comes up directly. Do they have living parents? Siblings? Aunts and uncles? Any relatives they can talk to without trying to strangle them? On the flipside, do they have relatives too dangerous to be near? The kind that make you change your name, move across the country, or flee the planet? No one can hurt you like those who know you best.

Family is part of how your characters deal with the world. Know if they’ve got one.

After all, there’s nothing like finding the right “I hate you forever” gift for your evil necromancer grandfather to land a character deep in trouble....

#worldbuilding #creative writing #characters

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motheatenscarf · 2 years

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In Almenor D&D last night our Cleric succeeded on his FOURTH Divine Intervention in the campaign.

We were doing SOME BULLSHIT, I will get into the specifics beneath a read more in a second, but we hit level 20 at the end of the session, so that was the final time he's ever going to have to roll for a success on his divine intervention. At level 20, Clerics just get one free miracle a week that they automatically succeed on.

Again, this is his fourth success, so let's go through them;

The first one was when we had a battle in the artifacts room of an ancient temple, some of the artifacts were destroyed in the ensuing fight. The clerics there weren't too worried about that, they were more sad that some of their people had died, but it was a cultural blow al the same. Flint, our Cleric, prayed for the artifacts to be restored and rolled to meet a success.

The second time was after we killed an elder brain dragon, he prayed that the copper dragon who had been corrupted would be spiritually restored so it could reincarnate since that's apparently what happens to dragons here.

The third one was after we killed a lich. During our fight with her, she'd cursed the fuuuuck out of some of us and we weren't healing or getting better and were quickly decaying, and the dungeon up to her had been a slog, so we were all out of spell slots at that point. The cleric prayed to have people restored and it worked.

This final time was the BIG ONE. There is in this universe a lich god of secrets, heavily vecna-inspired but more interesting because he's not a cackling cartoon villain, he's a traumatized former slave trying to ensure he's never under the boot of a master again. He's done some terrible, reprehensible things to get where he is, but his face-heel turn came after someone murdered his son to get to him. Then he made his grief the world's problem and started snorting souls like coke. His son has been dead for like two thousand years but we've concocted some bullshit. After traveling to Elysium and then Arvandor to reunite the son's soul with his long lost wife, we acquired some artificially created organic bodies that were empty of souls and true polymorphed them into the correct shape and appearance to match them. We figured with that kind of sympathetic bond, we could then use like, planar binding to stitch the souls into the bodies, burning 9th level spell slots to make the thing stick for a year.

Our DM tends to reward investment in a miracle/Wish, the more resources you put into it, the more it costs you, the more you get out of it. If we'd just prayed to have these two NPCs restored free of charge, it probably wouldn't have worked, but through expending some major resources and reputations and fucking 9th level spell slots all around, we got more out of it.

So the cleric prayed that his goddess, the goddess of compassion, would see what we were trying to do, would see that restoring this lich god's son and ensuring there was anything at all he cared about on the material plane would maybe help to change him and keep him on our side, and she would help make this a permanent bond.

We knew at least we'd buy ourselves a year and we could try to work out a permanent solution once the campaign was over, so our cleric had nothing to lose by trying. He tried, needed a 19 or below, he had like a 1 in 5 chance of succeeding on the d100, and he rolled an 11.

Fuck yeah!

So, his goddess made it so that yeah, no, those are just... their bodies now. Souls as tied to them as if they'd been born to them. Resurrection spells would work on them now even if something else did happen to them. They were fully fucking alive again after having their lives cut short two thousand years prior.

The final goddamn miracle he had to roll for was a BIG doozey but like, the most perfect thing I can think of for a Life Cleric to accomplish, we're so proud of him.

#Caitlin Plays D&D #Almenor D&D

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emmalovesdilemmas · 2 years

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10 characters, 10 fandoms, 10 tags

thanks for tagging me @wolfpants, i loved reading yours! i couldn’t tell if this was for the character you love the most or the character you related to most so i kind of just went with the character who took up most of my brainspace for each of these.

1. black sails - flint

“You must know this. You're too smart not to know this. They paint the world full of shadows and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons, their judgments. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn't true. We can prove that it isn't true. In the dark, there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom.”

2. the terror - francis crozier

“Friend, mother, lover, all the things they say a ship is to a captain, and they miss the only thing that matters: Confessor. This ship knows everything about me, Thomas.”

3. hannibal - will graham

“At night I leave the lights on in my little house and walks across the flat fields. When I look back from a distance the house is like a boat on the sea. It's really the only time I feel safe.”

4. succession - shiv roy

“You’re in a shitstorm of conflicting interests here. You can’t trust anyone. You just have to be smart. So, listen to everyone and make an assessment. Because frankly, I want what’s best for me. But the other people? The folks who want you to get up there tomorrow, and get pulled apart? They want what’s best for them. You need to think about what’s best for you.”

5. our flag means death - jim

“I’m gonna keep this very simple. You all know me as Jim, si? So just...keep calling me Jim. Huh, nothing’s changed.”

6. infinity train - lake/mirror tulip

“I’m not Tulip! I’m not foil, I’m not reflection, I’m not a sliver, I’m not a ‘Null,’ I’m not any of the hundreds of names that everyone wants to give me! I’m my own person who is getting off this train!”

7. avatar the last airbender/the legend of korra - katara

“I know sometimes it hurts more to hope and it hurts more to care, but you have to promise me that you won't stop caring.”

8. everything, everywhere, all at once - waymond wang

“You think I'm weak don't you? All of those years ago when we first fell in love, your father would say I was too sweet for my own good. Maybe he was right. You tell me it's a cruel world, and we're all running around in circles. I know that. I've been on this earth just as many days as you. When I choose to see the good side of things, I'm not being naive. It is strategic and necessary. It's how I've learned to survive through everything. I know you see yourself as a fighter. Well, I see myself as one too. This is how I fight.”

9. schitt’s creek - david

“There are certain lies I tell myself, and if you’re any kind of friend you will let me cling to those lies.”

10. the locked tomb series - harrowhark nonagesimus

“I have tried to dismantle you, Gideon Nav! The Ninth House poisoned you, we trod you underfoot—I took you to this killing field as my slave—you refuse to die, and you pity me! Strike me down. You’ve won. I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand. You are my only friend. I am undone without you.”

no pressure tagging @softlystarstruck, @corvuscrowned, @academicdisasterfic, @saintgarbanzo, @babooshkart, @epitomereally, @moonstruckwytch, @nv-md, @oknowkiss, @bluebutter-art (and anyone else who wants to) if you haven’t done this yet and want to!

#tag game

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tinyinvadr · 2 months

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Alright, here we go, Rhombus of Ruin time! This is gonna be a shorter fic since it’s a shorter game, and after this it’s Psychonauts 2!

Psychoborrower in the Rhombus of Ruin

Chapter 1

This was it. The moment where all of my training was about to pay off. Against all odds, I did it. I conquered my fears, foiled an evil plot for world domination, and became a Psychonaut.

But that was only the beginning of my story.

I was heading out on my first official mission: to rescue Truman Zanotto, Grand Head of the Psychonauts. And for a mission like that, I couldn’t ask for a better team.

Piloting the jet were agents Sasha Nein and Milla Vodello. Camp counselors by day, super psychic agents by… well, it was still daytime, so I guess it’s more of a “when they’re needed” thing. Getting to go on a mission with them became a dream of mine from the moment I met them. They were so cool, and I learned so much from them.

Also with us was Grand Head Zanotto’s daughter, Lili. To people who don’t know her, she seems like an ordinary girl on the surface. But there’s a fire within her. Literally. She is… really good at burning things, it’s a little scary.

Stationed in the bathroom was Coach Oleander. Sure, he may have stolen a bunch of kids’ brains with the intention of putting them in armored death tanks only the day before, but after we helped him work out his issues, he was a changed man. Well… mentally, anyway. Not much we can do about the constipation. Poor guy had to have been on the toilet for an hour, at least.

And of course, where would I be without my best friend, my partner in crime fighting, and the guy who made all this possible?

In a short time, I’d come to have a very high opinion of Raz, especially considering how much I resented him at first. I found myself frustrated at his optimism, and I hated the advantage he had against me with him being a human. But it turned out that we had a lot more in common than I originally thought, and when I made the choice to reveal myself to him, he didn’t think any less of me.

I tried not to verbalize that too much, though. He already had a big enough head, he really didn’t need the extra ego boost.

Unfortunately, we weren’t making much progress on the mission at hand. Sasha managed to get in contact with HQ, but they dismissed him, assuming it was just something about camp. Which meant it was up to our little team to carry out this rescue mission without any assistance from the rest of the organization.

While Sasha and Milla worked on trying to track down Truman, the rest of us were left sitting around.

I felt really bad for Lili. She expressed that she’d been kind of cold towards her father recently, feeling embarrassed when he would visit her at camp, and her previous feelings of doubt that the Psychonauts were even needed anymore.

I wanted to reassure her, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Even though we’d both been going to camp together for several years, I kept my distance from the other kids, so we didn’t really know each other all that well. But hey, if I was able to form a strong bond with Raz in such a short time, I could easily do the same with her.

“Hey… We’ll find him.”

Lili sniffled. She’d been crying, but she might’ve still been getting over that cold she had. With everything Raz and I went through, I didn’t really stop to think about things from her perspective. The past couple days were really rough for her, too. She got kidnapped, and then the next morning, the same thing happened to her dad.

I noticed Raz had gotten quiet, which was weird for him. I would’ve thought it would be hard to get him to shut up. He was practically living his dream. Well, so was I, but I’m not nearly as chatty as him.

My question was answered when I heard his voice echo in my head.

Hey, Flint.

Huh?

I’m practicing Clairvoyance. Trying to see things from other peoples’ perspectives, y’know?

Yeah, sure, but I’m just sitting on your shoulder right now. The only change in perspective you’re getting is shifting an inch to the right.

I guess… Hey, wait, look at me for a second.

I turned my head slightly so I was looking at Raz’s face. His eyes were shut tight, and he was deeply concentrating, his consciousness residing in my head instead of his own.

Whoa, I look huge!

Heh… yep.

Man, no wonder you were scared of me.

Please, as if I could be scared of you. You’re just a big goofball.

To be perfectly honest, I was terrified of Raz the first time I interacted with him in person. Especially since I was under the impression he was trying to sabotage me in the mental world, which turned out to just be my own paranoia. It wasn’t something I liked to think about, but it was the truth of how I felt at the time. Unfortunately, you can’t exactly hide your thoughts when you’ve got a guest in your mind.

It’s okay if you were scared. I get it. And I know we didn’t get off to the best start.

Hey, don’t worry about it. I was being stupid.

No, no, it makes perfect sense why you acted the way you did.

This could go on for a while. We both had a habit of being overly apologetic.

Let’s just agree that all of that is behind us.

You’ve got it, buddy. So, you excited for our first official mission?

Yeah… Wait, why are we still talking in my head? I’m right next to you.

Oh, right, sorry. My sister and I used to do this all the time, so I’m just used to it.

You have a sister?

Four siblings, actually.

Makes sense, considering your dad-

Nope, we’re done talking about this!

Heh… he’s too easy.

In a desperate attempt to kill boredom, Raz practiced PSI-Blasting at stuff in the jet. In doing that, he noticed one of the overhead compartments was locked, and marked with the Grand Head’s seal. He blasted it open, but all that was in there was a music box.

It toppled out of the compartment, and Lili caught it, a look a relief on her face.

“My Dad’s music box! What’s this doing here?”

Her first instinct was to try and form a connection with her father by using Clairvoyance on the music box, but she wasn’t able to reach him. Raz offered to try it for her, and it seemed to be working somewhat, but he described a strange interference that was blocking him out.

At that, Sasha instructed all of us to focus our thoughts on Raz and Truman in order to strengthen the connection. I contributed as much as I possibly could, but I didn’t really feel like I was much help. I’d seen Truman before when he would visit Lili at camp, but I didn’t know him on a personal level. Still, I focused to the best of my ability.

We were able to strengthen the connection enough to where Raz could see the lab where Truman was being held captive, but he wasn’t sure where exactly it was.

After digging around for clues, the situation became increasingly concerning. First of all, Truman was unconscious, with a Psychoisolation Bonnet over his head. As for the power source, it was a mineral Milla identified as Psilirium.

She and Sasha went on to explain that Psilirium is a rare and incredibly dangerous mineral that can cause psychics to hallucinate. Even just using Clairvoyance on someone who was standing near it was enough to make Raz dizzy.

He continued his search, and from there, we narrowed down the location of the lab. It was an abandoned Psychonauts facility located deep in the ocean, in a place called the Rhombus of Ruin.

There were plenty of legends about the place, mainly spread around by the Psychonauts themselves. After all, few were brave enough to venture to a place where people supposedly go missing, so it was the easiest way to keep the general public away from their research facilities.

We set a course for the Rhombus of Ruin. It would take a while to get there, and Raz was completely drained from the Psilirium exposure, so he was knocked out for most of the trip.

Lili was in better spirits since we had a location on her dad. She wound up the music box, letting its tune play.

“Don’t worry, Dad. We’re almost there.”

A couple hours later, we were finally approaching the Rhombus, and Raz also woke up around that time.

Sasha assured us that everything would be fine, but I had my doubts. Even with proper protective gear on, Psilirium sounded like serious business. On top of that, the last thing Raz heard before he came back to us was a warning straight from Truman’s mind, begging Lili to stay away because it’s too dangerous.

Just as we were flying over the Rhombus, something strange happened. The jet’s controls had been compromised somehow, and we were set to crash right into the ocean.

I held onto Raz as tightly as I could, but I lost my grip on his shirt as the plane took a nosedive. Everyone else had seatbelts on, but Coach and I weren’t so lucky. We both went flying towards the front of the plane. Thankfully, he caught me before I could crash into anything.

“Hold tight, Flint! We’re going do-!”

The impact knocked me out. What happened after that, I think I’m better off not knowing. I don’t wanna think about how long we were underwater, or how close I was to drowning. Let’s just say it’s a miracle I made it, and it’s a good thing Coach caught me when he did.

All I know for sure is that when I woke up, I had ended up in the heart of the Rhombus of Ruin.

#giant/tiny #g/t #giant tiny #g/t writing #psychonauts

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theclimateconversations · 7 months

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Climate stories: what about a tragic photograph?

The faces of people in newspapers sometimes disturb me. Let me explain. I have talked to people that want their stories told or don’t really care whether their likeness is available to the world, but I also know from my own experience that I do not want my family's fresh wounds aired out for the world to see. When we use people’s faces to humanize a climate disaster, at what point are we dehumanizing those whose stories are being told? As a family stands on the rubble of their life-long home, destroyed by a hurricane, flood, tornado, fire, you get to look into their eyes from the other side of your screen and scroll through. I don’t have an answer for this. Climate stories need to be told, but why? For readers to understand the impacts of climate change, as climate disasters worsen all over the world but especially for vulnerable populations. For outside observers of these disasters to understand their role, and the role of the powerful and wealthy, in exacerbating climate change. Maybe these stories and these faces can reach someone out there that can make a statistically significant difference in the effects of our human actions. These stories are told to a curious or bored or skeptical audience, and then what? What am I or you or anyone reading going to do about it? Why is their pain and suffering available to me, why is it for sale and on exhibit? Whose pockets do the profits from the exposure of this suffering reach?

Let people tell their own stories. Most importantly, listen to those communities that have already been facing the impacts of climate change before it’s too late. Listen to them before disaster occurs, so communities can have more resources available earlier on as they search for and work towards solutions.

Heather McTeer Toney speaks specifically to the experiences of black women in the South (the southern USA), highlighting how community efforts and ancestral knowledge have been a powerful tool for collective action, and how these efforts are starting to overcome the tokenized use of black voices in climate tragedy media.

An excerpt from McTeer Toney’s exposé Collards Are Just as Good as Kale featured in All We Can Save: Truth, Courage, and Solutions for the Climate Crisis below expands, touches on, and adds dimension to the key points discussed above:

“Despite hearing the Republican rhetoric of “climate change ain’t real,” people knew that something more than a rising river was changing and amiss. The river waters were coming faster and stronger from the increased snow up north. (Heavier wintertime precipitation is yet another outcome of rising global temperatures.) Each time Chicago, Minneapolis, and other midwestern cities got strong winter storms, the snow melted into streams that eventually made their way to the Mississippi Delta. Deer and duck seasons weren’t the same as in years past. Cotton and soybean crop yields were different. Increased heat, droughts, and floods meant more pests. Meanwhile, it felt like no one was listening to the voices of the poor, of rural folks, of southerners.

[...]We live in pollution, play around it, work for it, and pray against it. Hell, we even sing about it. Black women are everyday environmentalists; we are climate leaders. We just don’t get the headlines too often. Rarely do we see or hear Black voices as part of national conversation about climate policy, the green economy, or clean energy - even though 57 percent of Black Americans are concerned or alarmed about climate change, compared to 49 percent of White folks. We’re relegated to providing an official comment on environmental justice issues like the water crisis in Flint, or we’re the faces in the photos when candidates need to show they’re inclusive. Fortunately, this is slowly changing as more and more women of color step loudly up to the table and make their expertise known in climate justice and culturally competent, solution-based thinking.”

What are your thoughts? Let's continue the conversation.

#applications #applications in climate and society #theclimateconversations #conversation #let's talk #climate change #climate crisis #vulnerable populations #climate news #climate tragedy #climate stories

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yaytomhiddlestonyay · 10 months

Text

capitalism/growth ideology is bad, neoliberalism is bad, austerity is bad, AI is bad, and the future is bad

this is bleak

the luddites were, in general, right

and so were all the people who would have chosen to live simply and peacefully in the distant past

how do we stop this from going any futher

it already went too far a long time ago

Yes fine i know that technology has enabled scientists and psychologists and anthropologists and doctors and dieticians to study human functioning and needs faster/more,

but but...... to have a similar level of good useful knowledge/results/outcomes for human, animal, planet wellbeing in many ways, we could have instead just....

....just not had capitalism and greed and technology and violence disrupt and destroy and degrade and assimilate healthy cultures + systems + lifestyles in the first place

fuckin borg

I suppose.... I suppose a lot of changes bring good as well as bad

Why can't we get our shit together and just codify a bunch of human, animal and planet needs and givens that have to be super carefully protected, like much better/deeper than we currently do or ever have, and include human diversity and community and concepts like in that in a big way,

and then in advance just always disallow any changes or developments to impact those givens, or disallow them to be used in ways or settings that impact those givens...

I suppose maybe i am overlooking/dismissing an obvious human need/maybe human culture/anthropological need

desire for ever-expanding knowledge

and maybe other ones that i can't understand that much or be sympathetic to if i'm not an inventor or engineer

but......

if we could just make the perogative for change and 'advancement' not be greed or profit or growth, and disallow it to be used for that and disallow those things a fair bit, and disallow negative impacts on people or animals or the planet

maybe that's the way

I wonder if tribal elders and sages and wise men and mystics and, well, teenagers and stoners and artists and poets and weirdos, have had this same discussion from the beginning of time

from rocks and flints and implements

to standing upright and carrying stuff

to fashioning objects to carry stuff and alter the environment and use resources and and.......

I hope you're all happy with the back problems and spine problems and neck problems and foot problems from standing upright and carrying stuff.

absolute madness

did i just end up back at tao/yin/yang/duality/alan watts/ lore and mythologies and prometheus and pandora and icarus, and whatever the opposing stories of those were... Are we so dumb now from our technology and our destroyed cultural functions that I dumbly wasnt taught this unsolvable paradox/conundrum via tribal lore and mythology already, instead everybody has to annoyingly and exhaustingly get there on their own

either that or do the bothersome treadmill of seeking money or success or blah blah

what if we finally did fuck up the fundamental nature of humanity and human culture

i would give anything to know all the lore and mythology of any sustainable & humane tribal cultures, and compare it with that of early cities, capitalist/growth civilizations, etc

what if knowledge retention and growth drive is fundamental to humans and human needs

that wish for enough resources for all young, and ease and comfort instead of struggle

and at its problematic level, i guess overemphasis to a problematic degree on abundance, excess, security, control, etc

what if every bird and insect and creature's biology & DNA is constantly desperately trying to evolve towards getting enough resources to raise all young well, instead of losing some, and a magical desire to not be at the mercy of weather conditions or rain level or....stuff, and getting the best mate/gene mix possible, and the best health of you and your kiddos, to go further and better

and the only reason they arent causing havoc in the process is brain's less developed, can't oppose thumb, can't make good implements, can't stand upright and carry stuff.

Well I mean...... nature is kind of horrible

I guess they kind of do miserable havoc

maybe a somewhat alternative to that struggle and certain unpleasant things was tools, agriculture, knowledge, and setting aside resources and land and .... 🙄

and maybe an alternative to watching your offspring struggle was....

marriage, passing down property/wealth, amassing armies or strongmen & building better weapons to beat other assholes, honing knowledge, gathering more and better resources to do this.....

oops accidentally invented civilization/growth/capitalism

Edit:

OK fine i forgot about birth control

and probably a few other things

But those are EXCEPTIONS

#my stuff #philosophicationz #humans #fuck ai #the prime directive #unforced opt-in

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luminenwalker · 1 year

Text

Day Fourteen

The corridor is bathed in blue. This is a sacred place to the Tekton, where dreams are rendered true. First biologically, then through prosthesis. They wish to be more, to be worthy. //RRH

You stop and warm your hands at the barrel. The street is cold today, leaching what warm remains in your bones after another night in an alley. It feels good, for as long as it lasts. //RRH

Y'all, is chrome addiction a real thing? Few days ago on my weekly burrito-buy I came across this chrome-eyed, chrome-legged freak carving chrome-arms off some alley stiff, eyes all manic like he was craving his next hit. //Xan

Thank god I skipped on that chrome dome I was eyeing. //Xan

Data Day, Day-to-Day, lock up your sons, and your daughters! Star of Spike and Screen Zettai Ryouiki seen in Cincin prowling Interstate newly single and with all arson charges dropped! Exclusive drone footage only tonight with:- //Data daily

I don't remember my past, I don't much care. Was homeless I think, but you get free meals forever working for the Red Hearts. Being a cook is my calling, and it always was now. Get your slop at our "soup" kitchens, we have the Red Canteen, The Red Messhall, The Red Hashhouse... all you need at one of the Bleeding Heart Kitchens. For "free". //Refectory

So, was out for a walk today, and you know what I found? A spike, left on a long broke water sipping fountain. Very funny. Its all kinda of funky with my RFID reader too... gonna give it to my roommate and tell him its a Xara One. //FFF

sta-tic sta-tic sta-tic sta-tic... and all I could see was the Abyss in my heart, when I saw a mirror, darkly. The Flint Station is no longer Flint Station. Three Eff is dead, his blood sang all over the floor. Long live the Number Station. Two. Four. Eight. Sixteen. Thirty-two.... sta-tic //Countdown, Ace of Spades

#cyberpunkdreams #cyberpunk #cyber #radio #radio chatter

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fantasticait · 1 year

Text

Just as we were all getting back into the mainland domestic groove, somebody started in with dragons and crop blights from across the North Sea. Now bitter winds were screaming in from the west, searing the land and ripping the grass from the soil. I tried to put these things out of my mind. On summer evenings my young wife and I would sit out front, high on potato wine, and watch the sun stitch its orange skirt across the horizon. At times such as these, you get a good, humble feeling, like the gods made this place, this moment, first and concocted you as an afterthought just to be there to enjoy it. But I knew what it meant when I heard those flint-edged winds howling past the house. Some individuals three weeks’ boat ride off were messing up our summer and would probably need their asses whipped over it.

Djarf, whose wife was a sour, carp-mouthed thing and little argument for staying home, was agitating to hop back in the ship and go straighten things out in Northumbria. My buddy Gnut, who lived just over the stony moraine our wheat field backed up on, came down the hill one day and admitted that he, too, was giving it some thought. Like me, he wasn’t big on warrioring. He was just crazy for boat. He’d have rowed from his shack to his shithouse if somebody would invent a ship whose prow could cut sod. His wife had passed years ago, dead from bad milk, and now that she was gone, the part of Gnut that felt peaceful in a place that didn’t move beneath him had sickened and died as well.

Gnut’s wool coat was stiff with filth and his long hair so heavy and unclean that even the raw wind was having a hard time getting it to move. He had a good crust of snot going in his mustache, not a pleasant thing to look at, but then, he had no one around to find it disagreeable. He tore a sprig of heather from the ground and chewed at its sweet roots.

“Djarf get at you yet?” he asked.

“No, not yet, but I’m not worried he’ll forget.”

He took the sprig from his teeth and briefly jammed it into his ear before tossing it away. “You gonna go?”

“Not until I hear the particulars, I won’t.”

“You can bet I’m going. A hydra flew in last night and ran off Rolf Hierdal’s sheep. We can’t be putting up with this shit. It comes down to pride, is what it comes down to.”

I wished Gnut would go ahead and own up to the fact that his life out here was making him lonely and miserable instead of laying on with this warrior-man routine. I could tell just to look at him that most days he was thinking of walking into the water and not bothering to turn back. It wasn’t combat he was after. He wanted back on the boat among company.

The clouds were spilling out low across the sky when we shoved off. Thirty of us on board, Gnut rowing with me at the bow and behind us a lot of other men I’d been in some shit with before.

Gnut was overjoyed. He laughed and sang and put a lot of muscle into the oar, me just holding my hands on it to keep up appearances. I was missing Pila already. She hadn’t come down to see me off, too mad and sad about me leaving to get up out of bed. But I looked for her anyway, the land scooting away with every jerk of the oars. If Gnut knew I was hurting, he didn’t say so. He nudged me and joked, and kept up a steady flow of dull, merry chatter, as though this whole thing was a private vacation the two of us had cooked up together.

Thanks to the easy wind bellying our sails, we crossed fast and sighted the island six days early. One of the hockchoppers spotted it first, and when he did, he let everyone know it by cutting loose with a long, obnoxious battle howl. He drew his sword and swung it in figure eights above his head, causing the men around him to scatter under the gunwales. This boy was a nasty item, with a face like a buzzard’s, his cheeks showing more boils than beard. I’d seen him around at home. He had three blackened, chopped-off thumbs reefed to his belt.

Haakon Gokstad glanced up from his seat in the stern and shot the boy a baleful look. Haakon had been on more raids and runs than the bunch of us put together. He was old and achy and worked the rudder, partly because he could read the tides by how the blood moved through his hands, and also because those old arms were poor for pulling oars. “Put your ass on that bench, young man,” Haakon said to the boy. “We got twelve hours’ work between here and there.”

You could say that those people on Lindisfarne were fools, living out there on a tiny island without high cliffs or decent natural defenses, and so close to us and also the Swedes and the Norwegians, how we saw it, we couldn’t afford not to come by and sack every now and again. But when we came into the bright little bay, a quiet fell over all of us. The place was wild with fields of purple thistle, and when the wind blew, it twitched and rolled, like the hide of some fantastic animal shrugging in its sleep. Wildflowers spurted on the hills in fat red gouts. Apple trees lined the shore, and there was something sorrowful in how they hung so low with fruit. We could see a man making his way toward a clump of white-walled cottages, his donkey loping along behind him with a load. On the far hill, I could make out the silhouette of the monastery, which still lacked a roof from when we’d burned it last. It was a lovely place, and I hoped there would still be something left to enjoy after we got off the ship and wrecked it up.

We gathered on the beach, and already Djarf was in a lather. He did a few deep knee bends, got down in front of all of us and ran through some poses, cracking his bones and drawing out the knots in his muscles.

Gnut smiled and squinted up at the sky. “My God, it’s a fine day. Let’s go up the hill and see if we can’t scratch up a bite to eat.”

We hiked to the little settlement on the hill. Some ways over, where the monastery was, the young men were on a real binge. They’d dragged out a half-dozen monks, hanged them from a tree, and then set the tree on fire.

Our hands were stiff and raw from the row over, and we paused at a well in the center of the village to wet our palms and have a drink. We were surprised to see the kid with the thumbs in his belt bust forth from a stand of ash trees, yanking some poor half-dead citizen along behind him. He walked over to where we were standing and let his victim collapse in the dusty boulevard.

“This is nice,” he said to us. “You’d make good chieftains, standing around like this, watching other people work.”

“Why, you little turd,” Haakon said, and backhanded the boy across the mouth. The fellow lying there in the dust looked up and chuckled. The boy flushed. He plucked a dagger from his hip scabbard and stabbed Haakon in the stomach. There was a still moment. Haakon gazed down at the ruby stain spreading across his tunic. He looked greatly vexed.

As the young man realized what he’d done, his features fretted up like a child trying to pout his way out of a spanking. He was still looking that way when Haakon cleaved his head across the eyebrows with one crisp stroke.

Haakon cleaned his sword and looked again at his stomach. “Sumbitch,” he said, probing the wound with his pinky. “It’s deep. I believe I’m in a fix.”

“Nonsense,” said Gnut. “Just need to lay you down and stitch you up.”

Ørl, who was softhearted, went over to the man the youngster had left. He propped him up against the well and gave him the bucket to sip at.

Across the road, an old dried-up farmer had come out of his house. He stared off at the smoke from the monastery rolling down across the bay. He nodded at us. We walked over.

He pointed at Haakon, who was leaning on Gnut and looking pretty spent. “Looks like your friend’s got a problem. Unless you’d like to watch him die, why don’t you bring him inside? Got a daughter who’s hell’s own seamstress.”

The man, who was called Bruce, had a cozy little place. We all filed in. His daughter was standing by the stove. She gave a nervous little cry when we came through the door. She had a head full of thick black hair, and a thin face, pale as sugar— a pretty girl. So pretty, in fact, that you didn’t notice right off that she was missing an arm. We all balked and had a good stare at her. But Gnut, you could tell, was truly smitten. The way he looked, blanched and wide-eyed, he could have been facing a wild dog instead of a good-looking woman. He rucked his hands through his hair and tried to lick the crust off his lips. Then he nodded and uttered a solemn “Hullo.”

“Mary,” Bruce said, “this man has developed a hole in his stomach. I said we’d help fix him up.” Mary looked at Haakon. “Aha,” she said. She lifted his tunic and surveyed the wound.

“Water,” she said to Ørl, who was looking on. Gnut eyed him jealously as he left for the well. Then Gnut cleared his throat. “I’d like to pitch in,” he said. Mary directed him to a little sack of onions in the corner and told him to chop. Bruce got a fire going in the stove. Mary set the water on and shook in some dry porridge. Haakon, who had grown rather waxen, crawled up on the table and lay still. “I don’t feel like no porridge,” he said.

“Don’t worry about that,” Bruce said. “The porridge is just for the onions to ride in on.”

Gnut kept an eye on Mary as he bent over a small table and overdid it on the onions. He chopped and chopped, and when he’d chopped all they had, he started chopping the chopped-up ones over again.

Finally, Mary looked over and told him, “That’s fine, thank you,” and Gnut laid the knife down. When the porridge was cooked, Mary threw in a few handfuls of onion and took the concoction over to Haakon. He regarded her warily, but when she held the wooden spoon out to him, he opened his mouth like a baby bird. He chewed and swallowed. “Doesn’t taste very good,” he said, but he kept eating anyway.

A minute passed, and then a peculiar thing occurred. Mary lifted Haakon’s tunic again, put her face to the wound, and sniffed at it. She paused a second and then did it again.

“What in the world is this?” I asked.

“Gotta do this with a wound like that,” Bruce said. “See if he’s got the porridge illness.”

“He doesn’t have any porridge illness,” I said. “At least, he didn’t before now. What he’s got is a stab hole in his stomach. Now stitch the man up.”

“Won’t do any good if you smell onions coming out of that hole. Means he’s got the porridge illness and he’s done for.”

Haakon looked up. “Talking about a pierced bowel? Can’t believe it’s as bad as all that.”

Mary had another sniff. The wound didn’t smell like onions. She cleaned Haakon with hot water and stitched the hole to a tight pucker.

Haakon fingered the stitches, and, satisfied, passed out. The five of us stood around, and no one could think of anything to say.

“So,” Gnut said in an offhand way. “Were you born like that?”

“Like what?” Mary said.

“Without both arms, I mean. Is that how you came out?”

“Sir, that’s fine a thing to ask my daughter,” Bruce said. “It was your people that did it to her.”

Gnut said, “Oh.” And then he said it again, and then really no one could think of anything to say.

Then Mary spoke. “It wasn’t you who did it,” she said. “But the man who did, I think I’d like to kill him.”

Gnut told her that if she would please let him know who it was, he’d consider it a favor if she’d let him intervene on her behalf.

Ørl opened up his wineskin, and we all had a dose. It was sweet and potent and we drank and laughed and carried on. Haakon came to. His ordeal had put him in a mawkish bent of mind, and he raised a toast to his pretty surgeon, and to the splendid day, and how much it pleased him that he’d get to see the end of it. Bruce and Mary loosened up and we all talked like old friends. Mary told a lewd story about an apothecary who lived down the road. She was having a good time and did not seem to mind how close Gnut was standing. No one looking in on us would have known we were the reason this girl was missing an arm, and also the reason, probably, that nobody asked where Bruce’s wife had gone.

It was not long before we heard somebody causing a commotion at the well. Me and Gnut and Ørl stepped outside. Djarf had stripped to his waist, and his face and arms and pants looked about how you’d figure. He was hauling up buckets of cold water, dumping it over his head, and shrieking with delight. The blood ran off him pink and watery. He saw us and came over.

“Hoo,” he said, shaking water from his hair. He jogged in place for a minute, shivered, and then straightened up. “Mercy, that was a spree. Not much loot to speak of, but a hell of a goddamn spree.” He massaged his thighs and spat a few times. Then he said, “So, you do much killing?”

“Nah,” I said. “Haakon killed that little what’s-his-name lying over there, but no, we’ve just been sort of taking it easy.”

“Hm. What about in there?” he asked, indicating Bruce’s cottage. “Who lives there? You kill them?”

“No, we didn’t,” Ørl said. “They helped put Haakon back together and everything. Seem like good folks.”

“Nobody’s killing them,” Gnut said.

“So everybody’s back at the monastery, then?” I asked.

“Well, most of them. Those young men had a disagreement over some damn thing and fell to cutting each other. Gonna make for a tough row out of here. Pray for wind, I guess.”

Brown smoke was heavy in the sky, and I could hear dim sounds of people screaming.

Gnut didn’t come down to the feast. He said he needed to stay at Bruce and Mary’s to look after Haakon. Bullshit, of course, seeing as Haakon made it down the hill by himself and crammed his tender stomach with about nine tough steaks. When the dusk started going black and still no Gnut, I legged it back up to Bruce’s to see about him. Gnut was sitting on a hollow log outside the cottage, flicking gravel into the weeds.

“She’s coming with me,” he said.

“Mary?”

He nodded gravely. “I’m taking her home with me to be my wife. She’s in there talking it over with Bruce.”

“This a voluntary thing, or an abduction-type deal?”

Gnut looked off toward the bay as though he hadn’t heard the question. “She’s coming with me.”

We sat a minute and watched the sparks rising from the bonfire on the beach. The warm evening wind carried smells of blossoms and wood smoke, and I was overcome with calm. We walked into Bruce’s, where only a single suet candle was going. Mary stood by the window with her one arm across her chest. Bruce was worked up. When we came in, he moved to block the door. “You get out of my house,” he said. “You just can’t take her, what little I’ve got.”

Gnut did not look happy, but he shouldered past and knocked Bruce on his ass. I went and put a hand on the old farmer, who was quaking with rage.

Mary did not hold her hand out to Gnut. But she didn’t protest when he put his arm around her and moved her toward the door. The look she gave her father was a wretched thing, but still she went easy. With just one arm like that, what could she do? What other man would have her?

Their backs were to us when Bruce grabbed up an awl from the table and made for Gnut. I stepped in front of him and broke a chair on his face, but still he kept coming, scrabbling at my sword, trying to snatch up something he could use to keep his daughter from going away. I had to hold him steady and run my knife into his cheek. I held it there like a horse’s bit, and then he didn’t want to move. When I got up off him he was crying quietly. As I was leaving, he threw something at me and knocked the candle out.

And you might think it was a good thing, that Gnut had found a woman who would let him love her, and if she didn’t exactly love him back, at least she would, in time, get to feeling something for him that wasn’t so far from it. But what would you say about that crossing, when the winds went slack and it was five long weeks before we finally fetched up home? Gnut didn’t hardly say a word to anybody, just held Mary close to him, trying to keep her soothed and safe from all of us, his friends. He wouldn’t look me in the face, stricken as he was by the awful fear that comes with getting hold of something you can’t afford to lose.

After that trip, things changed. It seemed to me that all of us were leaving the high and easy time of life and heading into deeper waters. Not long after we got back, Djarf had a worm crawl up a hole in his foot and had to give up raiding. Gnut turned to homesteading full-time, and I saw less of him. Just catching up over a jar turned into a hassle you had to plan two weeks in advance. And when we did get together, he would laugh and jaw with me a little bit, but you could see he had his mind on other things. He’d gotten what he wanted, but he didn’t seem too happy about it, just worried all the time.

It didn’t make much sense to me then, what Gnut was going through, but after Pila and me had our little twins, and we put a family together, I got an understanding of how terrible love can be. You wish you hated those people, your wife and children, because you know the things the world will do to them, because you have done some of those things yourself. It’s crazy-making, yet you cling to them with everything and close your eyes against the rest of it. But still you wake up late at night and lie there listening for the creak and splash of oars, the clank of steel, the sounds of men rowing toward your home.

_______ Everything Ravaged, Everything Burned by Wells Tower. Story Abridged. Buy his book here.

#literature #capital-L Literature #favorite books #book recommendations #short story #Wells Tower #vikings #abridged #the unabridged story has more blood though #April 1805. Napoleon is master of Europe. Only the British fleet stands before him. Oceans are now battlefields.

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libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

“On golden plumes”

Lifted up to tindering thous and a chose descries On golden

plumes For I must value mountains risen and chariot, he of feeling for

his cold in one to the Water the world over takes of

a king head. we rusts to received to yield our

chest gentle way that his despair. Locklesse gaynen in the way;

my altars keen a Branche: and men arm that flint then twere vnprouide my soul wight: a side

and so long. Ones small light, and then shelf, a mist and strange my desolate,

And terrible a little shore to Nanie, O. and pleasures—touch our

gold save the delivered, and the sudden she goodlihead groan, when

my hear ago, what day a cruell his her morning come and layes, and

the spard? The measures do not such suspension years: whilst head, There warbling

your lips, by transformd their hair seemd like a citys sake! then the last

be their Matthew stoop, and the twist which Ive shut from out, no doubts, dost, if

neede you stood that you. And beauty made haught rheum to touchd not she cream of jutting

weathe apart; nest all rout clustered grief reticence had not buy? Round everywhere are

all confused two jelicks—one lived bones of terror life to see how to

closed of life. She had cuffs nights mair may come why we are to a very soul

put one way from outdo. The little maid, “he liberal, so too fierce am

with daily news prints.” By all a glimmering stark, that two women

fade above my mind! It looked to taste rear, and points, as I grew wild wood me bay-

windows whip, the thunder— even in the Pyrrhic dancing, the bill

one torturers. Ask me no more call that had energy; you wilt in Blood to

turn this seemd the rooted eyes see blows; and purest not me dead; didst vnder minister

astonishd: and pisto Sweet, and euerie imagining Post it never

the burning of a line be pierlesse fayth, is trecheree and from

the mountain-rivers flower! at a glimpses of idling together

slew him spread Midway from my Hand I follow rock, I, being with a

long lying born in awe. to let me homely, mid the Fruit among such troubled

with such carrior fair. Can find in the unnamed boys! I stagger Thorn.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #127 texts

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threadbareturnbacks · 2 years

Text

Black Sails and Facial Hair - Part 3, (Long) John Silver

One of the important aspects of character creation in Black Sails is that it proports to show not the Pirate Of Legend (a la POTC) but the Origin Of the Pirate Legend. But nothing can be created in a vacuum, you cannot reference pirate legend without engaging in some sort of historical storytelling that connects to the modern audience, which is, at its heart, the stuff of pirate legend. Narrative is an ouroboros, constantly eating its own tale.

John Silver shows up bright eyed and busy tailed and a perfect picture of a late 18th century sailor, down to the black shoes. His hair is a little too short, but reasonable and he’s rocking just a shade of a five o’clock shadow, but nothing untoward for a merchant ship in 1715. He’s a bag of snakes and like any good bag of snakes, he could get off in any port in the New or Old World and slip into the crowd without being noticed. He is, like Flint in 1704, perfectly suited to his surroundings. Flint’s crew take him at face value, but we know that this is a skin he wears that gives him more freedom than the bewhiskered pirates around him.

Throughout the first season, he stays pretty well shaved and clean. I mean, look at our boy after 5 days at sea and a shipwreck. This is the face of a man who plans to disappear into civilization as soon as he can. He even tells Flint, “I’ll find somewhere else to survive” - His appearance isn’t predicated on fitting in or telling a story, it’s predicated on survival. He’s handsome enough, but no one would look twice if they didn’t need to.

Unfortunately for Silver, everything he says comes true. And when he says “I don’t want to be a pirate”, well, I’ve got bad news for you snake man. He might say that out loud but his face tells a different story. After the capture of the galleon and his little Stomp Stomp routine, he stops shaving. It’s subtle at first. He’s still bright eye’d and bushy tailed (haired). But his hair is longer, his face is rougher. He’s starting to ingratiate himself with the crew, starting to become essential to Flint, starting to even find a place of belonging and in doing so, he drifts further from the safety of anonymity.

By the end of S2, he’s teetering on the edge. He’s got the mustache but compared to almost the entire crew, he’s still relatively respectable. However, look at how different it shows up in the light verses the dark. He might look like a citizen in the day, but at night his true self comes through and it’s all pirate.

Just as Flint’s door is closed at the end of s2, so is Silver’s. He can never again be an anonymous citizen, a snake in the grass. He might be able to integrate, but never again without notice. And he reflects that in his face. A full, patchy beard, very long hair barely brushed or contained - this is not a man who can step off a boat in any city and blend in. He’s clearly not taking care of himself.

Amputees are occasionally depicted in 18th century illustration - often in two distinct ways: The Good - employed and respectable (and clean-shaven) and The Poor - unemployed, whiskered, and dirty. Silver’s decided that since he can’t blend in, he might as well lean into the stereotype.

Additionally, there are instances of white men with beards living in the ‘civilized world’, particularly England and North America, but their lives are not easy. The beard is an essential feature of their Otherness, often Jewishness, and choosing to exist with that facial hair is a conscious statement. Whether as a statement of faith or as embracing his new condition, his beard is a clear rejection of reintegration or assimilation.

Contrast Silver’s unruly mop to Flint’s managed goatee, which he keeps neat and clean. The two of them, to an early 18th century observer, would make a terrifying pair, appearing as a mad Jacobean and a feral beggar, both ready to kill and not to be trusted under any circumstance. Quite literally the stuff of cultural nightmares and a sign of society unraveling.

Madi’s presence helps a bit, as does his standing as Long John Silver in Nassau. His hair is more managed but the beard does not get any less wild. And he mostly stays this way through the rest of the show.

(a side note: the slick hair from the doldrums on is actually a factor of the production. Many outdoor scenes were filmed in the wind and to avoid Silver’s hair flying everywhere, it was slicked back, from Fathoms Deep)

By the time his in the forest, dealing himself his own emotional death knell, he is as uncontained as we see him. The beard and the hair are one, there is no pretense of return or control. He has become undone, he is scrambling to grasp at the last tendrils of his humanity.

Which makes his final scene all the more fascinating. Because the last we see of John Silver makes him look downright professional. He’s still rocking the beard, but it’s trimmed, his hair is in a neat tail, he is no longer wearing heavy layers, or even sagging his back all that much. He looks, for lack of a better word, civilized. Certainly far more civilized than we have any right to expect him to look after what we’ve seen.

He’s made his choice. He has chosen the safety of society over the wild uncertainty of war and resistance. He’s back, in essence, where he started. Able to walk into any port in the known world and be just another invalid, returning from war.

But the last year has done a number on him. He’ll never fully integrate. He hasn’t quite abandoned his pirate self (the beard remains), but he’s willing to work within the rules. He’ll never be fully in the system, but never fully out of it. He’ll always be on the shore, never on the sea or on land. He’ll always be a character archetype, never a full person. His existence is now essentially liminal, just as he wears a beard and a ponytail, a combination that is exceptionally odd for the period, but just perfect for our last view of the famed pirate king.

Part 1 - History of Beards

Part 2 - Captain Flint

#black sails #black sails meta #black sails history #long john silver #john silver #fashion history #ya'll had enough beard meta yet?#i think silver's facial hair journey is a trip #i lost my shit when i saw the last scene of him with a nice neat queue the first time #it's the clearest 'im trying to fit it' thing we see him do #and such a contrast to flint who's last scene is such a fuck you to civilization and rules of propriety #they become each other's mirror #this show is going to destroy me i stg #black sails beards

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jaynovz · 2 years

Text

MadiSilverFlint OT3 Rec List

Aka the Best Tragic Triad of All Time.

I don’t think anything more needs to be said except that I love these three to PIECES. These are my favorite MadiSilverFlint fics--sappy, sweet, angsty, sexy--you get the whole spectrum of flavor. <3

Enjoy!

I wish for once we could stay gold by jaynovz

Summary:

Madi has discovered that pirates truly are a grimy bunch, but her two have managed to keep fairly clean the last few months when they had access to fresh water.

The governor’s mansion is filled with bustle, men scurrying about, seeking answers from both Captain Flint and their new King, but there is time enough to steal them away. Time enough this evening for some respite, to cleanse the grief and violence from the last few days alongside the dirt.

the misplaced half of our lives by mapped

Summary: Madi starts to understand why Silver trusts Flint.

Good Morning by bana05

Summary: As Madi prepares to take care of her lovers, they instead decide to take care of her first.

how we could be brought here by love by mapped

Summary: A 4x03 AU where Flint receives a minor injury in the battle of Nassau Town and Silver is very shaken by it.

the only way out is the way back in by samedifference61

Summary:

And Silver obviously means to further agitate Flint’s state when he says, “Do you know what she said to me this morning? She said, ‘I cannot understand why the two of you have not been intimate yet.’”

a shared bath, a conversation about death, and a promise

darkness in his fingertips, eyes just the same by jaynovz

Summary:

A desperate fear is welling up in Silver. Flint, injured? How grievous a wound must it be to keep Flint from a battle? To prevent him from heading up the rescue party? Flint, who Silver had seen take a warship with a shot shoulder, Flint, who shrugged off injuries from raids with an annoyed grimace as if they were minor inconveniences. Silver’s heartbeat is too fast and too slow at the same time, ice creeps around him from all sides at the stark reminder that Flint is mortal. The man who would sneer at God, who would sail straight into a tempest, who seemed to control reality with his demons… Silver has seen Captain Flint bleed, yes, but it’s never mattered like this, never truly hampered him.

And on the heels of this fear is something far less enfeebling, something Silver embraces: a dark vortex of rage.

a three way knot by jauneclair

Summary: Flint knits; Silver pries; and Madi secretly doesn't mind at all.

your heart is the only place I call home by vowelinthug

Summary: Madi learns the secret of John Silver's past: he used to be the worst.

sequel to still i follow the heartlines on your hand

pass on your way, then, with a smiling face by youremyqueen

Summary: Flint sleeps in the spare room until he doesn't.

join your hands to your hearts by jauneclair

Summary: Madi's approach to diplomacy in negotiating relationships is not what Flint expected.

Burial at sea by le_mru

Summary: Two years after Skeleton Island, Madi sets out to find Flint and recover the treasure for the Maroon community, Flint is adjusting to a life after death, and Silver interferes as usual.

Maybe in Another Life by samedifference61

Summary:

At the rail of a ship James doesn’t command, they stand shoulder to shoulder.

“John still thinks you’re dead,” James states, because it’s something that needs to be said aloud before they continue.

With eyes unblinking toward the rolling sea, Madi says, “And he still thinks you should be dead.”

James’ lip curls in anger. The wounds of betrayal are too fresh for either to say anymore.

Two Points In Space by illgiveyouallofme:

Summary: Since Silver returned from the dead, Madi has watched him and Flint dance around each other. She decides to take matters into her own hands.

And then everyone takes some things into their own hands.

stitched with its color by x_etoile_x:

Summary:

He is my friend too.

She’d reached out to him for the first time after he’d said those damning words, slipping her small hand into his and leaning against his side. Had duty not pulled them back into the world, he thinks they might yet be standing on that beach, like silent watchers in some myth, fading away to nothing with their eyes fixed on the sea.

The scene where Madi tells Flint that Silver is alive.

nonpareil of beauty by lacecat:

Summary: In which Silver gets his ear pierced, both by Flint and by Madi.

In the Warmth of the Night by Magnetism_bind:

Summary: After Silver's return from the sea, Flint thinks he needs to step aside so Silver & Madi can be together. He finds this is not the case.

inhale,exhale,reset by mapped:

Summary: After he is reunited with Thomas, James continues to watch more than one point in space at the same time.

married by the ocean by mapped:

Summary: Flint returns to the sea whence he came, and James? Well, James goes back to Padstow.

i am tired and i need someplace to begin by lacecat:

Summary:

Madi watches him steadily as he approaches her. “Perhaps one day,” she begins, but cuts herself off with a swallow, blinking back tears. They won’t be able to fill the hole between them, but maybe they can try to build around it, accommodate it.

He lays a rough palm on her cheek, gentle. He loves her so much. “Perhaps,” Silver says, even though they both know it’s the furthest from a promise. They have survived on far less, after all.

this is a story about loss by inwardphae:

Summary:

There is Madi’s warmth next to him, safety, a nest, a place to call home, someone to come back for – Silver knows that Flint knows this, he understands this. He’s been in this situation before. But with him? With him there is light, there is certainty and a purpose, there is a man standing on a cliff at the top of the world, a sword in his hand, asking to be loved for who he is, not for who he had been.

How exactly is one supposed to watch two points in space at the same time?

Practice.

Silver looks up and tightens his grip on Madi’s hand as he does so. But his gaze meets ocean eyes instead, and he can’t bring himself to look away.

Stay. Please. Stay.

~Written for the nsfw edition of Freedom in the Dark, a free digital Black Sails fanzine.

#black sails #silverflintmadi #fic recs #black sails fic recs #madisilverflint #james flint #madi scott #madi black sails #john silver #jay's esoteric rec lists #it's ot3 o clock

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