#i have this problem with any kind of project actually

[artbyblastweave]

Whatever else I may say about the writing of Fallout 3, Oasis is excellent on every level. Genuinely totally siloed from the main quest and the rest of the game world's communities, isolated from any area of the game world that you'd be likely to pass through on your way to another quest objective (maybe Fort Constantine, but you'd still have to detour pretty heavily.) Despite that, allusions to the place are seeded throughout the game- Three Dog talking about it on the radio as an urban legend, a single insane wastelander ranting about it before dropping dead in front of you. One of your rewards for completing the Arefu quest is that you'll have a cluster of locations in Arefu's general area marked on your map if you hadn't found them already; one of those locations contains an exiled, berserk Treeminder with coordinates to Oasis on his person, albeit without any explanation of what Oasis actually is. Actually finding the place is a very self-directed activity even if they hand you everything you'd need to get there. I feel as though there's a level of restraint on display from Bethesda here that you wouldn't get for settlement with a named quest these days- an asset as visually unique as Harold would absolutely end up with top billing in the main quest, you wouldn't be allowed to miss him. And anyway, once you get there, I dunno, there are interesting parallels. Inasmuch as Fallout 3 has any kind of actual deliberate theme, I'd argue that the theme is that you can't run from your problems, and you can't stick your head in the sand. A lot of the settlements you visit over the course of the game have the vibe of a whole bunch of people who are just sort of holed up and waiting to die, even the outwardly successful ones like Megaton and RIvet City. The entire main plot is triggered by James deciding to try and do something about the state of the world instead of just waiting to die of inbreeding along with everyone else under the Overseer's thumb. Everywhere you visit is experiencing some kind of watershed moment- something's gotta give. And then you get to this place that's outwardly a pretty sweet setup, but only because they're obscure- and that's not sustainable. You found this place, other people are going to, the only actual choice on the table is on what terms they're going to come into contact with the outside world and on what timetable. The possibility of reforestation is complementary to Project Purity; they make a big point of the fact that Harold can't do jack about the irradiated water even if the restoration of greenery would still be a major net positive. And it's not hard to draw a connection between the ending where you convince Harold to keep living because the Treeminders are dependent on him, and the whole "abandonment issues" beat that the Lone Wanderer is given room to have with their own father- you don't get to duck out on the world that easy, James Number 2. Lots of interesting little parallels swirling around in there, if you're an overly charitable apophenic such as myself

[good-beanswrites]

Hello again, I'm here to request once more. Feel free to take all the time you need btw! I would always be patient for your wonderful works ^^

This time I'd like to request from the Drabble List#2 - 47 with the 020607 Trio (mainly Mahiru though). And yes, this is hugely inspired by that one minigram with Mahiru. And as usual, feel free to change the scenario and/or the characters.

Thank you again, good luck with your future studies and take all the time you need!!

Woo thank you so much!! :'D This one was a ton of fun (and once again led me to get smacked in the face with unlikely character parallels I wasn't aware of before). It's from Kazui's pov but it's still mainly about Mahiru. I ended up going canon-compliant, but I did consider sticking super close to the minigram and do a little normal-au where Mahiru drags them across Japan to make a perfectly homemade cake 😅

Everyone knew Mahiru had a tough time distinguishing genuine from joke, but Kazui hadn’t expected it to come back to bite him. Mahiru wasn’t stupid by any means; sometimes she just forgot that others weren’t as unabashedly honest as herself. When she said something, she meant it. Kazui… not so much.

Which is why, following a conversation about her skills in the kitchen, in response to being pressed about his own household, he thought it would be inconsequential to utter the following words to her.

“Bake me a cake, and we’ll talk.” 

Kazui had laughed his booming laugh, Mahiru had giggled in her sweet little way. Neither realized what had just transpired.

That is, until Yuno dragged Kazui across the prison the following day to make him aware of the monster he had released upon the kitchens. The two hurried over to find a massive operation underway: Mahiru had several layers in the works, she was stirring multiple fruit fillings, decoration choices scattered across the countertop, and anyone who dared venture too close was shooed away with a slap from her wooden spoon. 

It took a few minutes to get the situation all worked out.

“So… you didn’t really want a cake…?” She asked, pausing mid-stir. Her eyes were so big and round.

Yuno came to the rescue. “Of course he does!” She interrupted. “Everyone here would die for a taste of your baking~” 

Kazui nodded. “I just didn’t mean for you to work so hard for my sake. I’m really not worth all this effort…”

Mahiru’s jaw fell, offended on his behalf. “Yes you are!” Her attention was momentarily caught by a timer chiming. Kazui took the bowl from her so she could take a pan from the oven. He picked up where she left off stirring. 

“Either way, why don’t I help you out?” Yuno had grabbed some ingredients from the counter as well. “While we bake, I’ll tell you a little bit about myself. A little,” he repeated. 

And he did. Her questions were easier than he’d expected. While the others knew how to poke and prod about each other’s murders, Mahiru really did just want to know about his home life. While she buzzed around the kitchen switching pans and creating intricate icing patterns, she asked him about his childhood, his hobbies, his job. As soon as she saw his wife was a touchy subject, she let it drop (though with a bit of disappointment, to be sure). He scrambled a bit as Yuno the human lie detector would shoot him a look now and then. Overall, though, his measured answers managed to satisfy both women without giving much of himself away.

When they carried the spectacular cake into the common room to everyone’s amazement, Mahiru prodded him with her elbow.

“We should talk more! I mean, come on. How difficult was that?”

If only she knew the half of it.

———

“Hey, Mahiru.” Kazui traded weak smiles with Yuno as he joined her by the bed.

“Oh. Hi Kazui,” came her weak voice. She tried her best to smile under the tangle of bandages that surrounded her. Then, silence. 

Aside from a few coughs and small requests, that silence stretched on for hours. He and Yuno usually had a lot to talk about, but neither could muster anything up today.

He thought Mahiru had dozed off, but she surprised him by taking his hand. “Kazui?”

“Yes?”

“Do you really think I’m unforgivable?” 

He blinked. “I can’t really say.” 

The moment the words left his lips, he knew they were the wrong ones. Well, the glare that Yuno was trying to murder him with also helped. “Er, I forgive you, of course. But… I don’t know anything about you, Mahiru. Not really. I can’t say why others would think you’re unforgivable or not.” 

“...I see.”

Yuno looked like she wanted to add something, but couldn’t find the words. Traces of emotions flickered over her face before she could cover them up. Kazui guessed she wanted to defend Mahiru. But maybe she also agreed with him. And that was when the realization struck him.

“I guess, I always thought you were so much better than me and Yuno when it came to talking about yourself. You do it all the time, and very easily. But now that I think about it, I probably know just as much about your situation as you know about mine. For such an honest person, you hide everything just like we do. Or maybe, you hide from everything, like we do.”

More silence.

A teary smile appeared on her face. “You know… you could bake me a cake… and maybe we’ll talk.”

Kazui didn’t laugh, and she didn’t giggle. He nodded, solemnly. “I think that’s a good idea.”

[icewindandboringhorror]

I’m always paranoid of my tumblr being deleted or malfunctioning or something like that someday, so here’s other places to find me/follow me, just in case lol

~ instagram - https://www.instagram.com/lucalicatte/

~ main youtube - https://www.youtube.com/c/LucaLiCatte

~ games/sims youtube - https://www.youtube.com/@cloudycatte

~ facebook page (I rarely use this because I hate facebook but.. it at least allows text posts better than instagram does, so idk maybe I’d use it more if tumblr went away? lol) - https://www.facebook.com/cloudycatteart/

~ Other Links (stuff I don’t use often/isn’t Main enough to list here, like twitter, neopets, other tumblr sideblogs, youtube channels, etc.) are here - http://icewindandboringhorror.tumblr.com/otherlinks )

[miabrown007]

a minute of silence to my skills to estimate how long a project is ever going to take

[tachiisms]

.

[wrecking]

edit: i ended up just ranting abt like the current vibe™ in the tags... sorry abt that but like also whatever i don't care anymore

[convoloutedinjoke]

I think the thing that doesn't jive for me with J/H most of the time is that theres a lot of stuff where its made out like jean is ooooghghg Suffering because harry doesn't Care for him as much as he Cares for Harry and it rings really false to me. Harry would... care a lot? He would care very very much and in his own broken way try his best to express it? Maybe it wouldn't always come out right (see: the video game disco Elysium) but he wouldn't Not Care As Much. He would care. He would care so much it would be a major source of tension in whatever they'd call that whole situation, because (points at jean) unable to reciprocate even if he wanted to, which most of the time I doubt he does.

[doushiteworld]

Trying to figure out how I feel about the Nightcord at 25:00 ver of Non-Breathe Oblige

[psychoticallytrans]

A surprisingly helpful bit of social maneuvering I've figured out from trial and error: Throughout your life, you are going to need things from people. Often, it's going to be on a deadline. And when that deadline passes, you generally want to know what's going on. So, you need to ask them.

There are two kinds of people, broadly, in this situation. The Shameless will tell you what the holdup is, with absolutely no regard for if the reason is "good enough". This is actually very helpful, because you get the real reason immediately, and can start working on a solution.

The Ashamed is trickier. People who are Ashamed are people who were often told they were giving excuses when they were trying to explain, and they'll often avoid you until they solve the problem on their own. This causes them and you a lot of stress, and often takes a lot longer to solve.

Long term, the strategy for dealing with people who are Ashamed is to provide a supportive environment where they're comfortable sharing any problems they're having with getting things done. But, there's a way to at least partially short-circuit that:

Provide an explanation for them.

One example might be "Hey Susan, I noticed that I don't have your report yet. Are you busy with other projects?" The readymade explanation signals that you're willing to accept an explanation, which is the big anxiety point.

Sometimes, you still won't get an honest answer- especially if the honest answer isn't "good enough" by the standards of the person who traumatized them. But, I've found that it often at least gets you a lie that lets you give them some slack or work around the problem.

Let's say that Susan has actually completely forgotten that she needed to do the report. She's horrified at herself, and completely unwilling to admit the real problem. But, she can now safely reply with "Sorry Jennifer, I've been swamped, and it got lost in the mix. I can have it to you in two days. Does that work?"

From there, so long as Susan gave an estimate for when she can actually do it, she and Jennifer can hash out a solution.

It's not a perfect solution, but it works astonishingly well for how small of a change it is.

[girlscience]

the adrenaline rush after talking to someone who gives you severe anxiety but the conversation went super well and was super helpful: unparalleled

[cryptovexillologist]

Disconnected Thoughts on Art Reproduction:

Hokusai's Great Wave fascinates me because, unlike almost every other artwork in that bracket of fame, it was never a bespoke piece that was only later reproduced. It was a commercial print right from the start, and while versions of it can be identified as belonging to different print runs, there is no meaningful 'original' aside from the long-since-discarded printing plates.

Even better, this state has been imposed on artworks that were once unique. In 2021, the art collective MSCHF bought an Andy Warhol sketch at auction for $20,000, made 999 meticulous forgeries of it, shuffled them to destroy any record of which was the original, and sold each piece for $250 as Possibly Real Copy of 'Fairies' by Andy Warhol, by MSCHF.

As with many smartass art collectives, MSCHF's projects range from eye-rolling to kinda clever to brilliant, but I think this is their magnum opus. It has exactly the kind of unwieldy literal title I adore. The original work has been arguably destroyed, but in a way that Warhol would applaud. It's the most pointed way to ask art buyers, do you care about the actual artistry of the work or just the bragging rights of owning the original?

---

Artistic domains where reproduction is trivial are often prone to the Superstar Problem: Why would I listen to the world's 50th-best cellist when I can stream all the Yo-Yo Ma I want just as easily? NFTs were pitched as a solution to this, marking the original or master copy of a natively-digital work to let it retain value. But even if the crypto market didn't have its own 2008 every few weeks, I don't want fine-art auction houses to be the future of digital art, especially when there are already plenty of existing ways to mitigate the problem. A fursona, a tabletop-game character, a niche Blorbo, etc. are all bespoke value-adds that enable a much greater range of artists to get commissions. But these require a culture of art fans who don't care about flipping it at Christie's, often overlapping with fannish cultures where plenty of artists operate at all experience levels.

I don't have any tidy conclusions for this, but I just want to say that an earlier version of this process - "paint me a biblical scene, and put me in it to flex my wealth and piety" - culminated in one of the funniest artworks I've ever seen, Francisco de Zurbarán's Christ Crucified (With Donor):

[magicalmanhattanproject]

man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

[icewindandboringhorror]

feeling sick constantly in the background all the time is like.. usually negligible-ish.. until multiple various chronic background issues all happen to overlap at once and then it’s like 

[cybernaght]

The fandom echo chamber: fanon, microanalysis and conspiracy brain 

As someone who has been in fandom spaces, on and off, for 20 years, I find some fascinating trends popping up in the last decade that I thought to be fandom-specific but clearly aren’t. So, I would like to do a little examination of where those things come from, how they are engaged with, and what it says about the way we consume media. This is a think piece, of sorts, with my brain being the main source. As such, we will spend some time down the memory lane of a fandom-focused millennial.

This is largely brought about by Good Omens. But it’s also not really about Good Omens at all.

Part one. Fanon.

The way we see characters in any story is always skewed by our very selves. This is a neutral statement, and it does not have a value judgement. It’s simply unavoidable. We recognise aspects of them, love aspects of them, and choose aspects of them to highlight based entirely on our own vision of the universe. 

Recognition comes into this. There is a reason so many protagonists of romance novels have a “blank slate” problem. Even when they do not, we love characters who are like us or versions of us that we would like to be. And when we say “we”, I also mean, “me”. 

(I remember very clearly this realisation hit me after a whole season of Doctor Who with writing which I hated utterly when I questioned why I still clung so incredibly hard to Clara Oswald as my favourite companion. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. Oh. Well. That would do it, wouldn’t it?)

Then, there is projection, and, again, this is a neutral statement. Projection exists, and it is completely normal and, dare I say it, valid way of engaging with — well, anything. Is the character queer? Trans? Neurodivergent? Are they in love? Do they like chocolate? Are they a cat person? Well, yes, if this is what the text says, but if the text does not say anything… You tell me. Please, do tell me. Because, in that moment of projection, they are yours. 

And then, there is fandom osmosis, and that is the most fascinating one of them all, the one that is not very easy to note while you are inside the echo chamber. It’s the way we collectively, consciously or not, make decisions on who or what the characters are, what their relationships are, and what happens to them.  

(Back when I was writing egregiously long Guardian recaps on this blog I actually asked if Shen Wei’s power being learning actually was stated anywhere in the canon of the show. Because I had no idea. I have read and reread dozen of fanfics where that is the case, and at some point through enough repetition, it became reality.)

We are all kind of making our own reality here, aren’t we? 

Back when things were happening in a much less centralised manner - in closed livejournal groups, and forums of all shapes and sizes - I don’t remember there being quite as much universally agreed upon fanon. Frankly, I don’t remember much of universally agreed upon anything. But now, everything is in one place: we have this, and we have AO3, and it’s wonderful, it really is so much easier to navigate, but it’s also one gigantic reality-shifting echo chamber, with blogs, reblogs, trends, and rituals. 

Accessibility plays its part, too. If you were, say, in Life on Mars (UK) fandom between seasons, and you wanted to post your speculation fic, you had to have had an account, and then find and gain access to one of the bigger groups (lifein1973 was my poison, but ymmv), and then, if you feel brave you may post it, but also, you may want to do so from your alt account if you wanted to keep yours separate, and then you would have to go through the whole process again. And I’m not saying that fan creations then were somehow inherently better for it than fan creations now (although Life on Mars Hiatus Era is perhaps a bad example - because some of the Speculation Fic there was breathtaking), but there is something to say about the ease of access that made the fandoms go through a big bang of sorts.

(I mean, come on, I can just come here and post this - and I am certain people will read it, and this blog is a pandemic cope baby about Chinese television for goodness sake.)

The canon transformations that happen in the fandom echo chamber truly are fascinating to witness as someone who is more or less a fandom butterfly. I get into something, float around for a bit, then get into something else and move on. I might come back eventually when the need arises, but I don’t sustain a hiatus mind-state. This means that when I float away and return, I find some very intriguing stuff.

Let’s actually look at Good Omens here. Season two aired, and I found it spectacular in its cosy and anguished way; deliberately and intelligently fanfic-y in its plot building; simple but subversive, and so very tender. (I will have to circle back to this eventually, because, truly, I love how deliberately it takes the tropes and shatters them - it’s glorious). And, to me - a person who read the book, watched the first season, hung around AO3 for a few weeks and moved on - absolutely on-point in terms of characterisation. 

So imagine my surprise when the fandom disagreed so vehemently that there are actual multi-tiered theories on how characters were not in possession of their senses. Nothing there, in my mind, ever contradicted any of the stated text, as it stood. This remained a strange little mystery until I did what I always do when I flutter close to an ongoing fandom.

I loaded AO3 and sorted the existing fic by popularity. And there it was, all there: the actual earth-shattering mutual devotion of the angel and the demon; willingness to Fall; openness and long heart-aching confession speeches. There was all of the fanon surrounding Aziraphale and Crowley, which, to me, read as out of character, and to one for whom they became the reality over the last four years, read as truth. 

Again, only neutral statements here. This is not a bad thing, and neither this is a good thing, this is just something that happens, after a while, especially when there are years for the fandom-born ideas to bounce around and stew. I can’t help but think that so much of what we see as real in spaces such as this one is a chimaera of the actual source and all the collective fan additions which had time and space to grow, change, develop, and inspire, reverberating over and over again, until the echoes fill the entirety of the space. 

Eventually, this chimaera becomes a reality. 

Part two. Microanalysis 

Here are my two suppositions on the matter:

1. Some writers really love breadcrumb storytelling. 

Russel T Davies, for instance, on his run of Doctor Who (and, if you are reading it much later - I do mean the original one), loved that technique for his seasonal arcs. What is a Bad Wolf? Who is Harold Saxon? Well, you can watch very very carefully, make a theory, and see it proven right or wrong by the end of the season. 

Naturally, mystery box writers are all about breadcrumb storytelling: your Losts and your Westworlds are all about giving you snippets to get your brain firing, almost challenging you to figure things out just ahead of the reveal. 

2. We, as humans, love breadcrumbs.

And why wouldn’t we? Breadcrumbs are delicious. They are, however, a seasoning, or a coating. They are not the meal. 

Too much metaphor?

Let’s unpack it and start from the beginning.

Pattern recognition colours every aspect of our lives, and it colours the way we view art to a great extent. I think we truly underestimate how much it’s influenced by our lived experiences.

If you are, broadly speaking, living somewhere in Western/North-Western Europe in the 14th century, and you see a painting in which there is a very very large figure surrounded by some smaller figures and holding really tiny figures, you may know absolutely nothing about who those figures are, but you know that the big figure is the Important One, and the small ones are Less Important Ones, and the tiny ones are In Their Care. You know where your reverence would lie, looking at this picture. And, I imagine, as someone living in the 14th century, you may be inspired to a sense of awe looking at this composition, because in the world you live in, this is how art works. 

If you, on the other hand, watch a piece of recorded media and see the eyes of two characters meet as the violins swell, you know what you are being told at that moment. You don’t have to have a film degree to feel a sort of way when you see a green-tinged pallet used, when cross-cuts use juxtaposing images, or notice where your focus is pulled in any given shot. This stuff - this recognition of patterns - has been trained into us by the simple fact that we live in this time, on this planet, and we have been doing so long enough to have engaged recorded media for a period of time. 

As humans, we notice things. Our brains flare up when they see something they recognise, and then we seek to find other similar details and form a bigger picture. This often happens unconsciously, but sometimes it does not. Sometimes we do it on purpose: finding breadcrumbs in stories is a little bit like solving a mystery. It allows us to stretch that brain muscle that puts two and two together. It makes us feel clever. 

So yes, we love breadcrumbs, and, frankly, quite a lot of storytelling takes advantage of this. It’s very useful for foreshadowing, creating thematic coherence, or introducing narrative parallels and complexity. It’s useful for nudging the viewer into one or the other emotional direction, or to cue them into what will happen in the next moment, or what exactly is the one important detail they should pay attention to.

Because this is something media does intentionally, and something we pick up both consciously and not, it is very hard to know when to stop. We don't really ever know when all of the breadcrumbs have been collected. It becomes very easy to get carried away. There is a very specific kind of pleasure in digging into content frame by frame, soundbite by soundbite, chasing that pleasure of finding. 

But it is almost never breadcrumbs all the way down. They are techniques to help us focus on the main event: the story. I truly believe those who make media want it to reach the widest possible audience, and that includes all of us who like to watch every single thing ever created with our Media Analysis Goggles on and those who are just here to enjoy the twists and turns of the story at the pace offered to them. And I think, sometimes in our chase to collect and understand every little clue we forget that media is not made to just cater for us.

One can call it missing a forest for the trees. But I would hate to mix my metaphors, so let’s call it missing a schnitzel for the breadcrumbs. 

Part three. The Conspiracy Brain. 

If you are there with me, in the midst of the excited frenzy, chasing after all those delicious breadcrumbs, then patterns can grow, merge together, and become all-encompassing theories. Let’s call them conspiracy theories, even though this is not what they truly are.

So, why do we believe in conspiracy theories?

One, Because We Have Been Lied To. 

All conspiracies start with distrust.

If you are in fandom spaces - especially if you are in fandom spaces which revolve around a queer fictional couple - especially-especially if you have been in such spaces for a period of time, you have most certainly been lied to at one point or another. 

We don’t even have to talk about Sherlock - and let’s not do that - but do you remember Merlin? Because I remember Merlin. Specifically, I remember the publicity surrounding the first season, with its weaponised usage of “bromance” and assertions that this whole thing is a love story of sorts, and then the daunting realisation that this was all a stunt, deliberately orchestrated to gather viewership. 

And, because we were lied to in such a deliberate manner for such an extensive period of time, I genuinely believe that it forever altered our pattern recognition habits, because what was this if not encouragement to read into things? Now we are trained to read between the lines or see little cries for help where they might not be. Because we were told, over and over again, that we should.

(Yes, I think we are all existing in these spaces coloured by the trauma of queer-bating. I am, however, looking forward to a world where I can unlearn all of that.)

Two, Cognitive Dissonance.

The chain reaction works a bit like this: the world is wrong - it can’t possibly be wrong by coincidence - this must be on purpose - someone is responsible for it.

Being Lied To is a preamble, but cognitive dissonance is where it all originates. In so many cross-fandom theories I have noticed a four-step process:

A) this is not good

B) this author could not have made a mistake 

C) this must be done on purpose

D) here is why 

(Funny thing is, I have been on the receiving end of the small conspiracy spiral, and it is a very interesting experience. Not relevant to this conversation is the fact that a lot of my job revolves around storytelling. What is relevant is that my hobbies also revolve around storytelling. And one of them is DnD. Now, imagine my genuine shock when one of the players I am currently writing a campaign for noticed a small detail that did not make a logical sense within the complexity of the world, and latched on to it as something clearly indicating some kind of a secret subplot. Their thinking process also went a bit like this: this detail is not a good piece of writing — this DM knows how to tell stories well — this is obviously there on purpose. It was not there on purpose. I created a clumsy shorthand. I erred, in that pesky manner humans tend to. And, seeing this entire thought process recited to me directly in the moment, I felt somewhere between flattered and mortified.)

This whole line of thinking, I think, exists on a knife’s edge between veneration and brutal criticism, relentlessly dissecting everything “wrong”, with a reverent “but this is deliberate” attached to it like a vice, because it is preferable to a simple conclusion that the author let you down, in one way or another. 

Three, Intentionality 

I believe that there is no right or wrong way of engaging with stories, regardless of their medium, and assuming no one gets hurt in the process. While in a strictly academic way, there is a “correct” way of reading (and reading into) media, we here are largely not academics but consumers; consumption is subjective.

However, this all changes when intentionality is ascribed. 

The one I find particularly fascinating is the intentionality of “making it bad on purpose” because, as open-minded as I intend to always be, this just does not happen.

It certainly does not happen in long-form media. Even in the bread-crumb mystery box-type long-form media. 

When television programs underdeliver, they also underperform, and then they get cancelled.

If all the elements of Westworld Season 4 that did not sit together in a completely satisfactory way were written deliberately as some sort of deconstruction for the final season to explore, then it failed because that final season will now never come.

(There will likely never be a Secret Fourth Episode.)

And look, I am not here to refute your theories. Creativity is fun, and theorising is fantastic. 

But, perhaps, when the line of thought ventures into the “bad on purpose” territory, it could be recognised for what it is: disappointment and optimism, attempting to coexist in a single space. And I relate to that, I do, and I am sorry that there is even a need for this line of thinking. It’s always so incredibly disappointing that a creator you believed to be devoid of flaws makes something that does not hit in the way you hoped it would. It’s pretty heartbreaking. 

Unfortunately, people make mistakes. We are all fallible that way. 

Four, Wildfire.

Then, when the crumbs are found, a theory is crafted, and intentionality is ascribed, all that needs to happen is for it to catch on. And hey, what better place for it than this massive hollow funnel that we exist in, where thoughts, ideas and interpretations reverberate so much they become inextricable from the source material in collective consciousness. 

Conspiracy theories create alternate realities, very much like we all do here. 

So where are we now?

I am not here to tell you what is right and what is wrong; what is true, and what is not. We are all entitled to engage with anything we wish, in whichever way we wish to do it. This is not it, at all. 

All I am saying is… listen.

Do you hear that echo? 

I do. 

[pizzaapeteer]

Don't be so underestimating

Mattheo x f reader. Based off this kind-of request, a little subby mattheo. a/n: also ty to @mattyriddlesbitch for helping first discuss the idea with me.

Warnings: nsfw 18+, male receiving oral, cursing, praise, ravenclaw house mentioned.

Mattheo was happy to play along with your little suggestion, finding it admirable that you even had the courage to propose such a bold idea. There was a clear understanding of who was more dominant between you, and so he found no harm indulging in your notion. Finding hilarity in your sweet determination in convincing yourself that you could tie him down, and he’d just sit back and let you take control. 

He had only raised a brow when you straddled him, pushing him back with a gentle shove, his body falling back against the headboards. An amused smirk rested on his face as he watched your intense level of focus at slipping the soft fabric gently around his wrists. “You know sweetheart, I don’t know if these will really be able to hold me,” his voice is edged with a teasing tone as he complies with your actions.

His eyes meet yours, loving the playful raise of your brows you give him while you continue bounding his wrist, the knot feeling hardly durable but he mentions nothing, just a small chuckle amused by your clear delusion at this actually working. When you're done, you move, running your hand under the underside of his chin, cupping it, you lift his jaw, pausing for a moment as you drown in the swirls of his brown orbs. 

“Not underestimating me, are you now, baby?” your brow stays arched, as you gently caress the side of his cheek. It was hard to contain your excitement at what was about to happen, already feeling your body grow hot in anticipation of the unveiling. A project that had taken a few weeks to put together, but one that would be worth the work of knowing your boyfriend would be vulnerable and at your mercy. 

He watches you with dark, curious eyes, his tongue flicking over his lips as you nestle back in between his legs. It’s just a matter of time before he interrupts, having no intention of letting you actually go through with whatever you're planning. A sarcastic smile appears, his eyes gleaming with hubris, not buying into your endeavor. “Of course not, sweetheart.” 

At the feeling of your hands palming his member, he releases a breathy moan, his muscles tensing slightly. You glide your hand, rubbing along his length, feeling him harden more under your touch. Biting your lip, you struggle to hold back the devilish smile reaching to pull his boxers down, your eyes unable to look away. 

Leaning your head down brushing your lips against the tip of his cock, slowly giving him gentle kitten licks. Another shaky moan is breathed out, his eyes gazing downwards, watching you taking your time to tease him. Your tongue swipes around his tip, swirling around the head as you lap at the leaking precum. 

He watches, allowing you to have your moment of dominance, though that doesn’t last long as his hands are itching to grip your hair, his urge for control growing stronger. Feeling done with your teasing already and not wanting to endure this ‘submission’ any longer, he moves his hands to slip out of the restraints. 

“What the -” his head flicks up to the pink coil as it tightens around his hand, binding him more firmly. His playful attitude drops instantly, feeling frustrated as he struggles to get out of the harsh grasp. His head snaps back to you, his eyes narrowing, lowering down onto your sadistic smirk, his jaw clenching at the situation he’s now trapped himself in. 

With your head raised peering up at him, you chuckle, watching him struggle, your own eyes gleaming with satisfaction at having beguiled him to your will. “Aw, looks like you got a little problem there, baby." You mock teasingly, your lips still continuing to lap at the head of his cock, prepping kisses and small sucks. 

His eyes flicker with a sense of irritation, inhaling sharply as you continue your torturous teasing, growling lowly, “sweetheart, whatever you're planning, it's not a good fucking idea.” 

You ignore his warning, not taking your eyes off his heated glare, eyes penetrating into you so hard it sends ripples of heat down to your core. You lick a stripe up the length of his cock, relishing in the small grunts he’s trying hard to contain. You can’t believe you could even get him into this situation, your ego growing with every shaky breath he heaves. 

Lapping at him for a bit more, you decide to stop the teasing slightly, sliding him into your mouth, only partly enjoying being in control. His hips lift instinctively, thrusting a little, attempting to push his cock further in your mouth, the urge to grab your hair and hold you becoming stronger the more you taunt. His eyes never drop his glare on you, though the small moans that tumble out of his mouth make it clear how much he’s enjoying this. 

“Come on, don’t be a brat, baby. You're really pushing the line now.” His voice was husky and low, on the verge of cracking as he attempted to maintain his dominant tone. Your soft lips continue their slow, tortuous pace, inching further down his length. Sliding your hands up his toned thighs, rubbing your fingers down the inner skin, grazing them slowly against his balls. 

A deep groan vibrates through his chest, his hands twitching in their tight grasp, feeling the ribbon squeeze his hands more, not enough to cut off any circulation. Still fuming at himself for letting himself even end up in this situation, unsure how this had even happened. 

“Fuck, what did you do to these binds?” he chokes out, his hips lifting more, trying to gain any sort of friction from your plush lips. Oh, he fucking craved you in unimaginable ways, wanting to snap those binds, and stuff his cock deep down your sweet mouth, wiping that smug grin off your face. 

You laugh at his attempt to take back control, sliding your lips down, taking him fully in your mouth. Still at a slow, merciless pace, you take him till he hits the back of your throat before sliding back up. You repeat the action, pausing at the bottom to let him rest in the warm embrace of your mouth. 

Mattheo was fucking restless at your taunting attitude, wanting, needing you now. “Fuck baby, don’t do this to me. Just be a good girl for me and take me a little faster,” he pleaded, desperately trying to persuade you. The rope burned as it pierced at his skin the more he tugged on them. His breath hitches more, as he bites down on his lower lip, suppressing a whimper not wanting to fully submit and give into your control. 

You smiled smugly, replacing your lips with your hand listening to the sharp exhale that leaves him, his brows scrunching together, frowning at you. You move to grip his base, pumping him antagonizing slowly, his hips jut, thrusting up into your hand, a low groan tumbling from his lips. You tilt your head, peering up at him with your lust blown eyes. “Your squirming won’t do anything baby, there’s only one solution for your little, or should I say, big, problem.” 

You giggle at his earlier question, your hot breath hitting his sensitive skin as you lean forward, before answering his question you marvel at his hard cock, the tip red covered with your saliva, twitches as he groans frustratedly. “I had a little fun experimenting with devil snare. You pay attention in herbology, don’t you, Matty?” 

His brows shoot up, eyes widening momentarily as he listens to your herbology enthused project, a bit surprised by how you had pulled this off. He was impressed, to say the least, but also itching for more finding the way you had deceived him so incredibly hot. 

He loved whenever you outwitted him, though often his pride didn’t let him admit that. But caught tangled up in the tightness of the binds, a small whimper escapes him unwillingly, wanting to praise you for your impressive effort, “God, pretty girl, I fucking love your mind. Please, I need you.” 

You release a satisfied moan as you retake his now painfully hard cock back in your mouth, enticing his own deep groan, no longer teasing him. Your pace increased, spurred on by his praise and plead. “Oh, that’s it baby, fuck yeah…taking my cock so well. Such a smart girl, love my fuckin smart raven.” 

You whine at his words, your head bopping more, cheeks hollowing out as your nose repeatedly presses against his pelvis. Mattheo is unable to stop the fall of whimpers leaving his lips, feeling you deep throat him, his hips twitch, hands gripping the binds. Watching you take the lead, teasing and edging him on, had turned him on more than he thought possible. 

As his climax rises, his hands move again and he whispers as the restrains tighten once more, his cock fucking hard and achy for some release. His head is thrown back, brows scrunched as he struggles to focus his eyes on your movements. “Baby, fuck…gods I’m going to fill your pretty mouth.”

He loved watching the way his cock disappeared behind the plump fullness of your lips, the sweet warm embrace of your mouth, tongue lapping and swirling around him. It was too much. It was driving him mad, his muscles convulses as he bucks his hips spilling a gag from you. 

It’s not long before he’s coming with a loud groan, his hips lifting, shaking as he releases, spurting his seed down the back of your throat. His eyes rolling back, head leaning back against the headboard. Your mouth stays wrapped around him, your eyes burning with tears as you swallow his load. Your tongue swirls, licking him clean before you release him with a pop.

Your eyes gleam up at him, taking in the masterpiece of a mess you had made before you. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, the few front curls sticking to it. His face is flushed a pretty scarlet, not a colour you often saw adorn on those sweet cheeks. You can’t help but admire how pretty he looks, laying there hung so helpless, the sounds of his whimpers still ringing in your ear, etched in your brain forever.  

You grabbed your wand and cast the spell, “Lumos Sumon," watching the binds unravel and roll back up into a small, neat ball. He rubbed his wrists a little glad at the feeling of his release, his chest still heaving as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. You move nestling further between his legs, your voice now laced with concern, “Didn’t hurt you, did I, baby?” 

He shakes his head instantly, his hands reaching out to grab your chin, bringing it in for a sweet kiss. “Of course not, you never could,” he grins, placing another kiss under your jawline, relishing in your soft moan. “But you, on the other hand, you're in for some fucking punishment, raven."

masterlist

[yeokii]

⌗ ADORE YOU ﹕이희승 (TEASER)

꒰ synopsis ꒱ all hopes were crushed when you realized there was no way to get close to your crush, choi beomgyu. your advances to get close to him never seemed to work. so, you decided to get closer to his best friend, heeseung, by joining the broadcasting club. but as scripts change, so do crushes, and you end up falling for his best friend instead.

▸ auditions are open . . . !

ㅤ❕MATCHMAKER ── crush bsf ! heeseung x reader

fast forward  ⃕ [ genre ] : written, fluff, angst, 90s au, unrequited love

meet the members ! beomgyu, gaeul, jungwon, taehyun, juyeon [more tba.]

warnings 𖧷 [only in this scene] unrequited love, yn kinda uses hee, thats all I think

ㅤhe's a real catch ▹ est. 2OK

⌕ [ archives ] one result found . . . hi (still on hiatus kinda) js came here to post the fic teaser :D (im prolly gna post this after mocks or after my igcses) also ty @yenqa sewlmate for writing the synopsis (ly dookie) send an ask or comment to be added in the taglist !

THE FALL OF NINETEEN-NINETY SIX MARKED A PIVOTAL MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE. Ever since you came into the world, you never really could grasp the concept of love.

You wrapped your head around the myths and tales your mother would read to you every night. You thought that every princess would have her own shining knight in armor. So, after thirteen years of living, where was yours?

Your knight in shining armor, or knights in shining armor, existed within the pages of the comic books you read. You often wondered if they would magically pop out of your books and transport you into their world. Similarly, you wondered whether any of the characters from your adored TV shows would step out and bring you into their lives.

So, it wasn't a surprise when your jaw dropped to the ground as you saw the most beautiful man in your life (well, technically, boy). If the epitome of beauty was a fourteen-year-old boy, it would be Beomgyu.

But it wasn’t just his face that made your thirteen-year-old self swoon over him, it was also the way he acted. You loved the way he conversed, his smooth way of talking at a young age and the way he smiled at you every time he made jokes with his friends. You loved how his eyes lightened every time he’d pull a silly prank.

But the problem was, he never talked to you. You admired him from afar. You never actually had the guts to talk to him, as if. You were content with watching his funny actions from a distance.

There were some moments when you pushed aside your nervousness and talked to him. You remember having butterflies in your stomach the moment you first talked to him. There were times when you both were paired up as project partners for a biology assessment and at that moment, you swore you could’ve worshiped the floor that your biology teacher walked on due to her giving you an opportunity like this.

You knew this was an opportunity to make your move. And you did. You brought him small snacks with little notes on them. Gave him gifts regularly. Maybe even took lessons from your best friend on how to subtly flirt with him. You really thought you had him. Because whenever you used to play out these little acts, you saw the subtle smile on his face. You were so close. It’s like the universe laid it out for you. Gosh, how lucky you were!

Luck. The luck that you thought you had. If luck was a person, you would’ve tackled it to the ground already. Because the day you were about to confess to him was the day he announced his new girlfriend. 

His first girlfriend. You doubt you called it ‘love’ since the only thing she cared about was that he was popular and pretty. That’s it! All that girl could get from Beomgyu was his looks and his reputation. You could’ve scoffed at the sight.

Beomgyu was so much more than that. He was loyal, kind, and trustworthy. And she went for his looks. Even though she had him, you felt as if she was missing out on so much. You were partly sad due to them getting together and also due to Beomgyu getting used to his looks.

So, you were practically prancing when you heard the news of their breakup a month later. Did you care that Beomgyu was absolutely heartbroken? Well, yes, but you felt relieved that Beomgyu was finally unleashed from that mean troll's wrath.

And as he got older, he grew more handsome. And God did you love it. When you entered high school he was a completely different person. He had gotten more flirty and way more pretty. He was way out of your league. 

Out of the years you were in this crappy high school, you made absolutely no improvement in your and Beomgyu’s relationship. Beomgyu, who kept getting new flings every summer and tons of situationships seemed to discard your existence. One could only say ‘What the fuck?’

Your thoughts swirled, and you had a collection of emotions roaming around your head until your best friend jolted you back into reality with a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

“Are you even listening?” Seori’s voice cut through your thoughts, annoyed, since she had to explain what she was talking about in the first place.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You blinked, focusing your attention on your best friend.

She sighs, “I was saying that I think Doyoung is going to ask me out.” Seori pouts “Why does he not get that I don’t like him that way, jeez.”

Her ramble about her current boy toy washed out in the background. You were once back in your thoughts until you saw him heading into the cafeteria. Beomgyu entered the cafeteria, his smile widening at something his best friend said. 

Lee Heeseung, Beomgyu’s best friend. His ride or die. As long as you can remember, they were attached to the hip. They were basically the package deal. If Beomgyu was the life of the party, Heeseung would hold up his hair while he threw up in the host’s toilet. While Beomgyu was the exact depiction of a social butterfly, Heeseung remained aloof, keeping people at arm’s length. You could only wonder how he dealt with Beomgyu’s outbursting personality.

“Earth to Yn!” Seori snapped her fingers in front of your face which once again, brought you back to reality.

“Sorry.” You sheepishly smiled looking at your best friend's annoyed face. Your friend followed the gaze you had fixed before looking over to her. And her eyes followed the trail of your alleged ‘man’–– Beomgyu.

“Him again.”A sigh erupted from Soeri, having enough of your rambling over your four-year-old crush.

“I’m sorry, alright!” You pouted, your back hunching over the disappointing development between you two which was nowhere to be found. “He’s just so cute, God!”

Your sigh was followed by your best friend. Not long after, your best friend’s fed-up expression converted into a rather eager one.

“I got it!” She exclaimed, her hand hitting your back while she practically screamed. You winced in pain as a few fellow students gave you judgemental stares.

“All you have to do is be close with his best friend, Lee Heeseung.” She slowly said, almost like a mastermind coming up with a villainous plan–well, you would consider your best friend to be some sort of evil criminal.

But this, this opened new angles in your head. It felt like the universe–or more like your best friend–laid it out for you again. Your once unsolvable puzzle showed a new direction, and the missing piece was all in front of you. 

Okay, maybe you felt bad that you were going to use Heeseung like that, even looking forward to it. But, you were really desperate. To the point where you would actually be eager to attend Sunday mass just to ask God for Beomgyu to like you back or even spare one glance at you. Well, what could you do? 

Out of excitement, you pulled Seori in for a hug with a squeal while giving her a kiss on the cheek which she in return, yelped. “Seori, you’re a genius!”

“Yes, I know.” She laughed a bit, escaping your tight grip on her before wiping the spot you kissed her hastily with her hands.

“I mean, how hard could it be?” 

You smiled and your gaze wet up to the boy you loved for most of your life, then slowly to the equally handsome boy.

Jackpot.

adore you tags . @wonsbaer @isoobie @armydrcamers @heegyuwrld @nxzz-skz @txtlyn @enhastolemyheart @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @sumzysworld @eleanorheartschishiya @petalsofink @bluujeans @jvjsssnaa @iamliacamila @m3chigo @oldjws @kyrjnie @heartswonn @aeminju @en-dream @yeahsspider @imstupidcheesecat

tags . @flwoie @zuyairus @bubblytaetae @yenqa @haknom @redm4ri @hanniluvi @haechansbbg @taejaysreads @shinunoga-iie-wa @teddywonss