#i am kind of proud of myself

[too-much-imagination]

I did it. I told her. Literally one minute ago. I told her I miss her and I’m going insane because of it.

I fucking did it.

I can’t believe it.

[lyamathecatvoid]

My art class stuff

[sitzendetaube]

Season 3, Episode 4, min. 56

Anthony describes Francis' dream as he's sleeping in his hideout under Kelsey's bed:

So my dad comes in asking for soda and I go to get him some ice cream, but instead I am holding the trophy and I'm seeing my reflection in it an I'm seeing BB like disentegrate in the reflection like I couldn't safe her somehow because we gave the wrong trophy and I knew this was the wrong thing to do and then I hand my dad the trophy full of ice cream and when I try to hand it to him, he's my mom and my mom is holding the severed head of the cop that she killed in one hand the shot gun in the other as she goes "you should have done this, YOU should have done this" and she hands me the shot gun and I start to point it towards my head and she goes "No, that's not what I meant, I meant you should be killing people" and I go oh okay cool and I kick open the door of the soda jerk shop and there are just like commies everywhere and I go IM GONNA MAKE YOU PROUD DAD and I start mowing commies down and I'm so fucking good looking and I [so cool bla bla] and I realize I am not wearing any clothes

(I, a non-native speaker, had to do this transcript myself, because there is no official one yet)

...

Soooooo I made a comic (?) out if that:

this was one big document, but I can't post it like that or the quality goes to shit :(

[hachiibun]

Patreon requests from last month's stream!

Tigh/na/ri for @collectivelyallergic 💚

@zensations35's lovely OC Leo

@kittensnz7's OC Calyx

If you like my drawings, and are willing and able to do so, please consider commissioning me, pledging to my Patreon, or donating through ko-fi ☕! You're not obliged to, but every bit helps to keep me living decently and I really do appreciate it!

❗ PLEASE NO REBLOGGING TO NON-KINK BLOGS ❗

[invinciblerodent]

writing is a wild hobby because sometimes you put down the most poetic bullshit, the most beautiful, evocative imagery that feels like you tore it from your very soul

and sometimes you write "she opened her un-jizzed eye"

[ofthecaravel]

Try, try, try to understand he's a magic man 🔮🎸

[fatuismooches]

EVEN MORE CUTE DOTTORE MOMENTS TO MAKE YOU SMILE 🙏 (because I am too tired to post anything of quality)

[iraprince]

Hiii, i love your stuff and kinda from a distance really look up at you for, in my perception, being able to express yourself without giving a fuck. Thats sick dude, Im so so afraid, of absolutely everything, its nice to think like i might grow into someone less apologetic of my existence. Nice to see people just being yknow

hey, thank you, this is really really nice. the secret that is probably not a secret is that i am also deeply afraid a lot of the time lmao -- but less than i used to be, and in ways that feel less stifling and self-suffocating, if that makes sense.

like, it used to be "i'm scared that if i express myself the way i want to, everyone will find me obnoxious, so let's just sand those edges down to be safe" -- now my fears are more like "now that i'm expressing myself in a way that feels natural and real, i'm afraid that it's all stupid/vapid/not worthwhile or meaningful" (<- specifically abt my art) or "i'm happy that i talk and act the way i want to now, but what if it makes me impossible to befriend," etc etc etc. which still feels bad and puts me in a funk a lot of the time but at least it's a fear that comes After/in reaction to doing stuff, rather than a fear that STOPS me from doing stuff, you know? like, it's evolved into a kind of fear that's less in my way.

anyway. i believe you'll experience something like this, because wanting to grow is the first step of growing. the fact that u hope or wish for something different means you're already on your way. to fewer fucks!! or at least distributing the fucks u give in a way that serves u better

[shalom-iamcominghome]

New blog rule (inspired by recent events): antisemites get one (1) snarky reply from me before they are reported if I choose to respond.

After that, the only response will be thus:

עם ישראל חי

[fun-with-colors]

If you ever feel like your past self screwed you over, let me tell you the story of the best prank I’ve ever pulled and the worst prank I’ve ever had pulled on me.

When I started high school, they had us write letters to our future selves as part of the orientation activities.

Smash cut to me reading the letter from my past self as I’m finishing my senior year of high school. The main gist of the letter is “don’t forget about me - and don’t think that I’m any less real than you are. I may not be you anymore, but I existed. I am not just your memory - I am real.” At the very end of the letter, though, is the note: “don’t forget about your gold medal.”

As I was reading that, I thought “what gold medal? I’ve never won a gold medal! What was I going on about??” I wracked my brain for any gold medal, but couldn’t remember anything. After a week or so of nothing turning up, I dismissed it as a cheap dig from my past self about how I’d never won a medal. Whatever.

A year later, I’m moving out of that house, and sorting through a dresser to decide what I want to keep. As I’m digging through the miscellanea, I find a plastic gold medal. “No. Fricking. Way,” I think. I flip the medal over, and what do I see?

“This.”

I am *still* pissed at how precisely I played into my own hands. I knew I’d forget, apparently, knew I’d be frustrated, and then went so far as to confirm for my future self that this was what I meant. And sure enough: I forgot, I was frustrated, I found the medal, and I was uncertain about it. And I don’t even remember plotting the prank!! Nobody wins here! I was played like a perfectly-tuned fiddle, and nobody wins! I mean, I guess I win - but the me who wins isn’t here to see it! I was replaced by the me who lost! Four years went by, and I still reacted exactly how I would have at the start of it!

Time, and I, am a flat circle.

[moe-broey]

Fellas can you take this somewhere else. Maybe. Just not in the fucking halls. Thanks 🫡

I couldn't resist drawing out these tags I wrote on a dif post LMFAO

Moe just has...... SO many problems.......

Close-ups of my fave shots!

The elusive Líf...

[bookofmac]

okay okay okay, thinking thoughts

So I find the concept of Names really interesting in Camlann, reading into the extracanonical stuff put on the tumblr is giving me food for theory crafting. The Catacylsm seems to be some kind of return of magic to the world (possibly heralded by the return of The King of the Britons in their hour of need?) and thus people with significant Names have access to something because of it. they fall into the stories of their namesakes; Perry, Gwaine, and Kay are Knights, Morgan is Morgana Le Fay, and we now have a Gwen in Shújūn.

Based on Kay's dicussion with Perry if more people can fill in the roles of their stories to more 'to plan' the stories will go, Of course this is not good news if you know the general end point of Arthurian legend (Betrayal, muderer, war, most everyone dead, the 'Glory' of camelot gone). It's inherently kind of a doomsday cult if you stay in those stories, you know where parts of this are going (i'll get back to this)

it also seems like there may be some, for lack of a better term, kin drama going on. There are 900 members of the court and Kay mentions that Peredur is a really uncommon name outside of Wales, meaning there are certain knights who are more common, i assume Lancelot's, Kay's, maybe a few Talisin's, a bunch of Gareth's, and like 50 Elaines like in the legends lol

We also dont have the context for how Names work full yet and neither do our characters. I think theres a lot of answers to be had with Shújūn/Gwen with how it works, how you know other than the buzzing in you're head and desire go through the motions and Follow the Story

Now, where does Dai fit in all this?

Dai doesn't have a Name, and I think theres going to be a point where he changes his name in a major way, but not to a Name, but a Bardic name. In welsh poetic and story telling tradtions Welsh poets, THE OG Bards, will take on pseudonyms tell their stories. This practice stems from the medievil era, but goes forth to today, and many modern Welsh and welsh heritage poets have connections to this tradition (Dylan Thomas' middle name was his great uncles bardic name, Sarah Williams published her work under the name Sadie), I believe it's also a requirement to have one if you intend to perform in the major Eisteddfod, (I am Australian so my experiance of Eisteddfods here is very different so if i'm wrong on that let me know)

Why would he do this? I think Dai is going to, at least try, to write him and his friends a way out.

Much ink is spilt over how Arthurian legend doesnt have an 'orginal text', and as such there are lots of stories that are inherently contradictory; Bedwyr is the best knight, but so are Gwaine, Lancelot, and Galahad. Mordred is some random king until his Arthur's son. Arthur has a sister, no he has two, actually he has three and one of them is an Elaine. This could be used to explain any doubles (are you my Gwaine), as well as why we see a few different spelling varients which are, the very welsh Peredur as opposed to Percival or Parzifal, the anglisised and more boarish Kay as opposed to Cei or Caius (this last one might just to keep Dai and Kay distinct tho). These variations are no more or less 'canon' than any other telling of the story, and so often the writer of a given telling of Arthurian legend is going to have their own bias. But things dont HAVE to end the way they always do, and sometime you need to have someone outside the story you're caught in to tell you a new one.

You are not locked into that ever looming cloud of Thomas Mallory and Le Morte d'Arthur.

Other evidence I have for this is that Dai sings at the begining of each episode, and sings in welsh at that. He also is, to a point our narrator, existing both in and out of the current narative. Also his name is an a lyric of Sosban Fach (a song i would be surprised if it wasn't in the show at some point) 'Dai bach y sowldiwr' which is also not from the text the song was based on. Tangential yes, but i think it's worth thinking about.

I think there is also something to be said about choice in what your name is and how it feeds into the overall theme of identiy, and how that plays into other themes at play in the story, like Transness, Imperialism, and Predestination

TL:DR; While he doesnt have a Name, Dai's gonna give himself an epic bard name and save them all by writing a killer hook to get them out of the story

[anitalianfrie]

This picture is actually depicting bez getting his suit up after I gave him the nastiest wettest deepest known to mankind blowj- [I get repeatedly shot in the chest by a sniper]

[trillgendermetaphor]

Educational

(980 words) by angiospermophyta

Fandom: The Locked Tomb Series | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir

Relationship: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus

Rating: General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Gideon Nav, Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Teacher | Priest of Canaan House, Palamedes Sextus, Camilla Hect

Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teachers

Language: English

Summary:

Gideon Nav’s enthusiasm was not contagious, exactly, but it did strange things to her stomach. More importantly, Nav’s muscles seemed more suited to a gym than a classroom, and Harrow almost blurted out something stupid. Instead what came out was, “Are you sure you can teach math?"

It's Harrow's first day as a science teacher at Canaan Middle School, and already she's managed to alienate the (excpetionally attractive) math teacher.

Harrow stood with her back to the door, surveying her work appraisingly. It would do for now.

The bulletin board was mostly empty, but had been plastered over with dark-red-magenta paper. A bold black heading at the top read “Student Work.” Harrow had been advised early on that her classroom could not be decorated solely in black, grey, and bones, and she was attempting to give it a muted-rainbow aesthetic to compensate for her own style. Perhaps some middle schoolers would appreciate darkness, but she had learned that the majority of them did not. They felt safe and comfortable with soft fabrics and bright colors. Wimps.

In the back of her head was the voice of Harrow’s therapist: Have you considered that you look down on those who prefer softness because you wish you had been allowed to be soft growing up? As if Harrow had ever wanted to be soft! As if she wished she could have been vulnerable growing up! As if she had become a science teacher – as opposed to the orthopedic surgeon that had been expected of her – because she had wanted to protect children the way she had never been protected herself. As if!

A throat cleared before her, and she turned to find the soft gaze of Teacher, the principal of Canaan Middle School. He had another name, which she tried to remember out of some sort of decorum, and began to form on her lips – “Mr.–” but he seemed to catch her gaze and she broke off. “Ms. Nonagesimus, please, call me Teacher.”

Harrow nodded stiffly. “Teacher.”

The older man’s eyes turned to survey her classroom. “A fine job you’ve done with the room.” He turned and seemed to notice the small display of bones she’d created against the radiators, and an eyebrow upturned minutely. “Very educational, my dear. I anticipate our students will have many questions for you.” Harrow held back a slight upturn of her lips.

“Well done, well done,” he concluded, just as a voice called from behind him, “Teach!”

A large shadow loomed in the doorway behind teacher, and a large (impossibly large and toned) arm draped across the man’s thin frame. Following the arm came a ginger head, dark sunglasses, and an easy smile. Harrow’s breath caught in her throat, and she remembered the breathing exercises she’d practiced: four counts in, hold, four counts out, hold…

The tanned figure was saying something, and Harrow caught the end of it as she steadied her breathing: “… new science teacher? All right!” Teacher smiled, waved, and gracefully exited – traitor.

Suddenly a hand was thrust in her direction.

Harrow wanted desperately, more than anything in the world, to hold that hand. She was on count two of her exhale – three, four. Hold, two, three, four… She stared at the outstretched hand, willing herself to grab onto it. Her hand didn’t move. Breathe in, two, three, four…

It was too late. Gideon’s hand dropped back down to her side, and her face fell minutely. She put on a large, robust smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and ploughed on. “I’m Gideon – Ms. Nav, for the students, though gosh that seems so formal! – and I teach math. I’ll be your co-teacher, so we’ll share the same kids!”

Harrow blinked. Gideon Nav’s enthusiasm was not contagious, exactly, but it did strange things to her stomach. More importantly, Nav’s muscles seemed more suited to a gym than a classroom, and Harrow almost blurted out something stupid. Instead what came out was, “Are you sure you can teach math?”

Keep reading on ao3!

[dawnthefluffyduck]

hey that's not supposed to be out there (uploaded wrong version at first haha whoops)

[wolveria]

Writing Update

There will be no updates for The Raven's Hymn for the month of November. I haven't decided if I'll do Nano this year (I've been doing it since 2015 and honestly I've been pulling Nano-speed writing for most of this year and I Am Tired), but I may use this month as a breather and maybe do some slower-paced writing for TRH.

So no worries, we will be back on track in December 👍