#like a large child with a magnifying glass

[whoreforsexymen]

Guess who just finished acrane and is writing this with actual tears on my face!!! I need some Vander fluff- i think i will emplode- it doesnt even have to be anything specific i just need comfort after that shit storm 😭

Yes my child. Mommy will make good on your request.

And don’t even get me started on S2. I can’t bring myself to watch it yet. I’m still not even over S1 and I KNOW for a fact it’s not even as sad as I’ve learned S2 is.

But shhhhh, Mommy’s got you. Here’s the fluff you asked for.

Piltover’s Got Nothin’ On You | Vander Fluff Flash 🍺🤎

(GIF cred: me <3)

Pairings: Vander x GN!Reader

Pronouns: No pronouns used.

Rating: Slight NSFW because Reader and Vander are presumably half naked in bed, so 18+!! MDNI !! You WILL be blocked

Word Count: 524

Summary: Vander is enjoying a nice cozy morning with you, and reminds you exactly how he feels.

Tags: A little spicy, just because it’s a little maturely themed if you whip out a magnifying glass, Fluff, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Domesticity W/ Vander, OoeyGooeyRomance

Notes: None, just enjoy. Take a breather. 🤍

“Would I lie to you?” The question hung in the air, light yet loaded with meaning. It was enough to send a familiar flutter through your stomach, a soft, nervous twinge that made your heart skip. The sensation was strangely uncomfortable, yet in the most endearing way—like a gentle reminder of how much he could still make you feel, even in the simplest of moments.

You lay atop the man you were speaking to, both of you bare-chested, the warmth of your skin pressing together in an effortlessly comforting way. The coolness of the morning air was a distant contrast to the heat between you, a calm presence that made the moment feel serene to say the least. His steady breathing beneath you gave the moment a gentle rhythm, and for a while, there was nothing but the simple unspoken connection between you both before you responded.

“Maybe. Depends.” You tease, your words playful but laced with a hint of mischief.

His response is immediate—his large hand slipping into yours with a quiet sense of contentment, the warmth of his grip grounding you. There’s a comfort in the way he holds you, as if, in this moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. His touch speaks volumes, the unspoken understanding between you both more powerful than anything words could convey.

“Someone clearly thinks highly of me,” he teases back, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Before you can answer, he leans down and places a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, his touch tender and full of quiet affection. The sweetness of the gesture catches you off guard, a simple act that somehow feels like the most genuine expression of his feelings—a quiet reminder of how deeply he cares.

You smile, a soft laugh slipping from your lips.

“All I was saying is that, as much as Piltover has its minor flaws—“ you begin, your voice light with amusement as you’re stopped short.

“Appalling flaws, really. Humongous, towering flaws,” he interrupts playfully, his tone teasing as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, still held firmly in his.

You can’t help but laugh at his wit.

“Yes, huge, appalling flaws. But despite all that, Topside is stunning at night. The lights here are beautiful, too, but nothing compares to the glow of Piltover.” You add, trying to make your point clear: a city’s beauty can stand on its own, no matter what darkness might lurk behind the scenes.

He regards you for a long while, his gaze lingering on your face with an amusement that never quite fades. The seconds stretch on, almost too long—what might seem like a few moments in the world’s rhythm becomes an eternity in his eyes. Each shift in your expression, each subtle change in your posture, draws him in, holding his attention as if time itself has slowed. And yet, even as eternity unfolds, it’s still not enough. To him, no amount of time could ever truly capture all he wants to see.

“That may be true,” he says, his voice steady, the smirk never quite leaving his face.

“But Piltover’s got nothin’ on you.”

[cor-lapis]

I decided to have a go at doing my own redesigns because these three are my favourites and I love them very much. further notes + sources under the readmore (warning: lots of text). I did my best with the research, but if there's anything I overlooked, I'd really appreciate people letting me know :)

Tighnari:

My main source for Tighnari was this excellent thread, from which I looked up each item of clothing individually. Since djellabas tend to be quite long, and Tighnari needs mobility for forest ranger activities, I figured he would cut and re-hem the lower half. He also has a lot of clothing pieces that are traditionally multicoloured, but to keep his design cohesive I decided to use the same colours across different items, but using a larger palette of colours than I would usually. I like the bright colours on him a lot though!

There are also some minor details I just changed because I wanted to. The flower on his chest is now a nilotpala lotus, because I thought it was nice to include his acension material/the material he asks you to help gather. The dirt stains/scuff marks are because rainforests are muddy and I wanted the design to emphasise Tighnari being very practical and hands-on with his work (see also, the specimen belt).

Finally, I shrunk the magnifying glass on his back (because I'm pretty sure it's meant to be his first magnifying glass toy and that thing is very large for a child to handle) and gave him an undercut because it seemed right. Also, I merged his front and back trailing cloths into a scarf type of thing that he could wrap around his nose and mouth to prevent inhaling spores from mushrooms.

Collei:

COLLEI my beloved. I had a mild nightmare trying to figure out a specific source culture for her design, but nobody seemed to know specifics and her outfit wasn't matching with any traditional dress I looked up, so in the end decided to keep the overall look the same. Just in case I assigned her something else, but then it turned out I missed her actual inspiration.

Anyway, I made her shoes simpler (no fur, heels, and open toes in the rainforest seemed reasonable to me), and gave her shorts. I liked the green colour because it's pretty unique under a dark dress, and pairs nicely with Nahida's white dress + green undersides. Amber's tie stays, but I made most of her jewellery smaller since it felt a little clunky for a trainee ranger.

Her earring and necklace(?) are allusions to the Evil Eye and the Khmissa/Hamsa, both symbols of protection. Especially considering the fact they're meant to ward off evil, and very common across multiple MENA cultures, it seemed fitting for Collei to have them. Also, she has Eleazar scars, and I used the design for her stockings as inspiration for the combination knee braces (similar to those used for arthritis, since Eleazar also causes stiff limbs and I HC that people affected would probably still need some recovery support)/knee pads (in the case of a fall). I like the idea that Kaveh would have helped make them for her (tangent but the fic Here is the House explores similar ideas; it's really really good, I heavily recommend it). Finally, she has curly hair because I thought it would be cute.

Cyno:

Here's the thread I found for Cyno. The main critique was to do with the eras from which each aspect of his clothing drew inspiration, but I admittedly wouldn't be able to do much about this without a lot of research. One thing I did try and verify was the small strip of cloth on the left of his chest, and I found a few wall murals where the people seem to be wearing similar strips of cloth? (example here; rightmost figure) Therefore, I didn't remove it, but if someone wants to explain Ancient Egyptian clothing history to me I'd be really interested to hear it 6.6

I might iterate on the design in the future, but for now the changes are mostly HC territory. Cyno wearing his hair in locs (a protective hairstyle) makes sense for someone who does a lot of hiking after rogue scholars, and I also gave him quite old and faded top surgery scars because healthcare is canonically free in Sumeru (thanks for that information, al-Haitham)(though tbf Cyno makes bank anyway). I also adjusted the colours a bit, since Genshin tends to use desaturated shades for metallic elements.

I also considered giving Cyno more scars, but figured that it could indicate Hermanubis' presence that someone you'd expect to get injured a lot is relatively scar-free (i.e. some sort of godly healing factor/resistance to damage). However, we know next to nothing about Hermanubis, so Cyno having a lot of scars also makes sense. This paragraph is mostly just a cry for help cyno story quest 2 literally any more elaboration about the nature of Hermanubis' pact and the Temple of Silence.

Conclusion

I wasn't intending to write one when I started the explanations but this got REALLY long so if you made it this far, thank you so so much ToT please check out the links; the threads especially were a great resource, and I'm grateful that people take the time to make them <3 genshin's character design department are cowards but I'm glad I learned some new things through the redesign process

[letsgetrowdy43]

Meet the Littlest Hughes—

I don’t know why I made this… but I got the urge to make a little intro for the babies

Au Masterlist!!

Warren Hayes Hughes ೃ⁀➷

Born August 31st, 2022 in Michigan

The oldest of the three

The mature and always composed child, very much like Quinn with his competitive nature and drive, but is empathetic and kind like his mother

Follows in his father’s footsteps and plays professional hockey after playing for two years at Umich

Is like the Crosby/Bedard of his generation, his talent plus his family’s legacy put a large magnifying glass on him

He is drafted first overall in the year 2040 to the Vancouver Canucks

Becomes their Captain after three seasons with the club

Hayden James Hughes ೃ⁀➷

Born April 14th, 2024 in Vancouver

Middle child, who much like Jack did not suffer with middle child syndrome

She is their wild child, think Jack but with an obsession for princess crowns

Resident daddy’s girl, she adores Quinn

She played hockey for a whole month before begging her parents to let her become a figure skater because the dresses were sparkly.

She also attends Umich, in hopes of graduating with a degree in Women and Genders studies, and then furthering her education and getting a doctorate and Masters degree so she can become a professor

Her focal of study is Women in sports, and later on in her career she becomes a spokesperson for the PWHL

Maeve Wren Hughes ೃ⁀➷

Born May 20th, 2030 in Vancouver

She and her siblings have a bigger age gap, but they adore their baby sister.

Maeve is Quinn and Honey's most unusual baby, she is their theatre baby.

They tried dance, but she because obsessed with acting and singing so they put her in some classes and watched her sing her little heart out on stage

She ends up taking a different path from her siblings and going to art school.

She ends up in New York at Columbia University School of the Arts studying for a theatre degree.

Maeve pursues her dream and ends up working on Broadway as a costume designer, and ends up marrying a New York Ranger (Jack feels very betrayed by this, but also loves her niece's husband, so he looks past it)

[archive-pl]

Israel kills children.

IDF guys after Cast Lead: "’Everyone there is considered a terrorist’…’We were allowed to do anything we wanted. Who's to tell us not to?’; ‘You are allowed to do anything you want ... for no reason other than it's cool;’ even firing white phosphorus ‘because it's fun. Cool.’”

“…Cast Lead was largely conducted by remote control. ‘It feels like hunting season has begun,’ [an IDF soldier] mused. ‘Sometimes it reminds me of a PlayStation game.’ ‘You feel like a child playing around with a magnifying glass,’ another soldier remembered, ‘burning up ants’”

“IDF testimonies recalled ‘the hatred and the joy,’ and ‘fun’ and ‘delight’ of killing Gazans, the wreaking of destruction ‘for kicks’ and to ‘make [oneself] happy.’ … ‘Fortunately the hospitals are full to capacity already, so people are dying more quickly’“

[berrypass-de-murdler]

S-0 First, a Story

PEOPLE?!?!?!

HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MURDLE (aka School of Mystery cartoon) BEGINS!!!

sorry I'm REALLY excited about this. The lore is going to get so crazy from here on out. This is Episode 0 or as most people would call it, a prologue. I hope you like it <3

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT REA- again this isn't really a spoiler one

Two little dust bunnies sit on the barren ground. Midnight II stares at them motionlessly, and his father looms overhead.

MIDNIGHT I: The fuck you need two of ‘em for. MIDNIGHT II: I dunno mate. Just came out like that.

The baby clouds are identical. Until one of them opens its big red eye!

MIDNIGHT II: SHIT-

Immediately, lightning is drawn from the clouds above and shoots right into the infant. It vibrates madly, making squeaking noises. Midnight II forces its eye shut.

MIDNIGHT II: So one of ‘em’s Midnight III, and the other one’s Midnight III 2.  MIDNIGHT I: Good. Now remember. If you don’t need two, you don’t need to keep two. That one’s already got issues.

The smoky humanoid gets to training his new sons for the film industry. Midnight III is an obedient fellow, following commands without hesitation. III 2 however, is a bit hyper. More than a bit hyper.

MIDNIGHT II: No. If you open your eye, you attract lightning. You only do that when you need to.  M. III 2: ???

He does it again. 

MIDNIGHT II: STOP. MIDNIGHT III: stop

The little guy blows a fuse! From that day on, every time they try to film, that darn cloud keeps charging his power needlessly. Until one day, it doesn’t even work anymore. He’s all burnt out. That does mean he can keep his eye open all the time. But that’s not what his father wants. 

MIDNIGHT II: I wish I didn’t have two damn kids. I only need the one. 

And so after filming a shot near the biggest school in the world, the Midnight and his single son left to return home, leaving the problem child behind. 

Now Midnight III 2 didn’t bother to go looking for his family. He found something much more interesting - the TV in the lobby. It’s playing a detective show - Deductive Rezoni, an Italian magnifying glass who solves homicides. At his small age the little cloud doesn’t know the concept of gore or what’s ‘too violent’. He is intrigued! 

For the next week, he just sits back and watches through the window. What if Rezoni had a sidekick? He knows he’d make the best sidekick. But how to become a detective? To do that, he’ll have to become… a magnifying glass! 

So he infiltrates the theater. They must have a detective outfit somewhere! And they do. It’s perfect! He puts the magnifying glass on his face just like Rezoni, and after a bit of struggling, manages to waddle upright. And he rushes outside to find his favorite window!

Dean Glaucous, the kindly old lion that manages the school, steps outside on break. He has a heart attack seeing a tiny cyclops, and freezes.

The little man is intrigued! He shows no fear, approaching the large cat. Glaucous backs up slowly, picking up a stick in self-defense, but then dropping it. He accidentally falls backward.

M. III 2: Y… YES!!

The tiny boi climbs up his leg and stares at him with a big inquisitive eye. Glaucous softens at how nonthreatening the creature really is.

GLAUCOUS: He… Hello…  M. III 2: HELLO?! GLAUCOUS: Um… what’s… your name. M. III 2: …LOGICO!!!

Glaucous has a chat with Logico. And he learns that the little guy has nowhere to go. So that night, he brings him home.

TUSCANY: GLAUCOUS?!

The smilodon glares at the man carrying the little beast.

TUSCANY: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU HOLDING?? LOGICO: MURDLE- GLAUCOUS: Shh… He’s just a lost child, I want to give him refuge for one night. TUSCANY: Not in my house. Put him in the school or something.

But if he’s going to put him in the school, he’s going to be there with him. 

One night turns to two, two nights turn into a week, and Tuscany can’t bear sleeping alone anymore. She has to let the child in. 

LOGICO: YESSS THANK YOU MUMMY!

Tuscany turns her ears back at the word. 

One night, Glaucous falls asleep on the couch, leaving Logico to watch true crime. He of course, is not bothered at all, and won’t look away.

LOGICO: POPPY I KNOW WHO DID THE FUCKING DID IT!!!!!!

Glaucous almost roars as he shoots upright. 

GLAUCOUS: Logico… what are you…  LOGICO: I KNOW, WHO DID THE MURDLE!

The lion quickly shuts the TV off. Tuscany comes downstairs.

LOGICO: BUT I WANT TO SEE- I WANT TO SEE THE REST OF THE MURDLE!!

Tuscany sees how exhausted Glaucous is, and comes and sits down next to him. Logico immediately latches onto her.

LOGICO: MUMMY!! <3

Her cold heart melts, and she purrs… there is no going back now.

Logico is undoubtedly enrolled into the Deduction College when he is old enough, and he consistently makes his parents proud - much to the dismay of the other students. He wants to become an actor - he wants to be the successor of Deductive Rezoni! 

But one day, when he is 12 years old, something happens. A human is killed on campus. And no one is fessing up to it. Obviously.

LOGICO: Don’t worry, everyone! I am going to solve this murder!

The suspects are none other than his own parents, along with the infamous Mayor Honey, who had come to the school to give a lecture on the government or whatever.

Logico thinks of the perfect grid shape to use - one that will help him solve this murder easily. 3 squares, each with 9 squares inside… 

And he examines everything thoroughly, sniffing for the tiniest clues, applying his knowledge from his courses. 

HONEY: Who do you think you are, kid? LOGICO: More than you’ll ever be.

Jesus Christ. With every clue, the grid becomes more complete.

LOGICO: So s a t i s f y i n g!

And in the end, he reaches a solid conclusion. It’s not his beloved parents. It’s that traitorous Mayor Honey!

HONEY: DAMN YOU DING-DANG KIDS! 

Tuscany is more than impressed. She has never seen someone solve a crime so accurately, and so FLAWLESSLY… 

LOGICO: He will never be re-elected. TUSCANY: My dear, yes he will. The government is corrupt and is more than willing to hire murderers. But you… 

She lifts up her son.

LOGICO: Aw, Mum! >0( TUSCANY: I made a good choice. 

She takes Glaucous’ hand.

TUSCANY: We made a good choice.

The pride Logico feels is impeccable. If he can solve a REAL murder, he’ll be the best detective in television history. Deductive Rezoni, meet your match -

Deductive Logico!

The end! 

IT'S BABY LOGICO! The smolgico storyline begins!

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[tl-os]

I was in the living room reading “Bellefleur” (again), and when I looked up the light had changed. The room was now dark and spot-lit in curious places where lamps had never stood.

Something, someone, somewhere. Was it me?

I got up and walked into the hallway, and instead of my bedroom, I entered the large office where the landlord (he measured everything) kept all of his paperwork strewn around the room in messy piles. And then I walked into the hallway that communicates with the apartment next door. (I like them well enough, but living without a locked door—or any door at all— between us is unnerving. So far, there has never been an issue. Nobody has wandered into our apartment. I would never dare intrude on their privacy.) Any other night I might wind up in what I like to call The Yard Sale Room - full of tables displaying costume jewelry, trinkets, textiles, china and flatware, long rambling letters full of apologies for heinous acts committed lifetimes ago, funereal urns, musical instruments long silent, coffee cans full of buttons, two verdigris deer, champagne flutes, three perfect gold spheres, empty journals, tarnished swords, One Enamel Eye, tin ice cube trays, heaps of dried flowers, lots of small jars filled with a viscous dark liquid, a collection of ceramic redwoods and sycamores, wooden spoons, a diploma, empty decorative boxes, one large stone horse, a disintegrating shopping bag full of sponges, dishwashing liquid, a can of powder cleanser, laundry detergent, fabric softener, dryer sheets, window cleaner, steel wool pads, and scrub brushes (c. 1978?), two pallets of 5 & ½ inch white candles, an entire collection of hagiographies in fine-tooled leather binding, magnifying glasses and mirrors (all broken), one pair child’s (size 3) ballet shoes, never worn, four distinctly different samovars, a pair of arms, envelopes full of receipts, hotel keys, lazy susans holding little jars of bleached herbs and spices long inert, brown paper grocery bags overflowing with prescription pill bottles (not empty), maps, a tiny little spinning wheel constructed from unpainted wood, and shards of glass crusted with some dark, rusty substance.

But no clocks. Not a single clock to tick. Just silence. Alone in the room with the weight of it all.

[raointean]

RoP Celebration - Week 2: Places

I did a short little one-shot about Ost-in-Edhil! (I couldn't help myself from including some worldbuilding about the peredhil from my broken souls series, but you don't need to know anything about that to read this story)

-light, hard, impervious to the elements... it was perfect. Celebrimbor wondered at the sample of metal before him, newly separated from the raw ore. For years, he'd spent his free time attempting to find a way to make unenchanted weapons as long-lasting as enchanted ones, largely as part of his ongoing attempt to befriend the dwarves of Khazad-Dûm, but also to sate his own curiosity to see if it could be done.

Just as he turned to examine the final product under his magnifier, he heard something clatter to the ground. On the other side of the room was a small boy, hastily righting the small wooden figurine that had fallen over. The boy froze, a terrified look on his face, as he met Celebrimbor's gaze.

Where had he come from? Where were his parents? The boy couldn't have been more than 25 years old!

Silence stretched between them only for a moment before the child started to cry and apologize in heavily accented Sindarin. "I am so- sorry, sir! I didn't mean to! I just got lost and-"

"Peace, peace, winë." Celebrimbor interrupted. "I am not angry."

The child's tears seemed to slow with his reassurance, so Celebrimbor continued. "You have done no harm. Now, come. Where are your parents?"

The boy teared up again and wailed, "I don't know! I was separated from them in the streets and I saw this big tower and came to see if I could find them from the top of it! I was trying to find a window but I accidentally knocked over your doll instead..."

Celebrimbor bit back a laugh; that would help nobody. The child was clearly foreign and, given that he had become lost in such a clearly laid out city, had likely not been in Ost-in-Edhil for long. The child's atire held little in the way of clues, being simple traveling clothes- but there! His hair shifted just so to reveal one crooked ear.

The boy was peredhel!

Just that morning, a caravan of mostly peredhel nomads had entered the city and were set up in the marketplace. If the boy's parents were in the city, that would be the place to find them.

Gently, he reached out to the boy and picked him up. He was sturdier than an elfling at relatively the same age, but certainly not too heavy for Celebrimbor to carry. "I think I know where we can find your parents, winë. What is your name?"

The boy clung to Celebrimbor's tunic. "I am Raunroval, sir."

"Raunroval," Celebrimbor repeated. All was quiet as they made their way down the winding tower stairs, smooth-worn stone hardly making a sound under his feet. Raunroval's eyes took in the stones of the wall as they decended, each one carefully chosen and cut specifically for its place and role.

At last, they reached the ground level and Celebrimbor stepped out into the sunlight. Raunroval blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness and noise around them. Everywhere Celebrimbor looked were people. Elves and men flooded the streets, dwarves pushed their way through alleyways and open-air forges as they went about their business, children (both foreign and local) watched the craftsmen in fascination as windchimes, flowerpots, glass baubles, baskets, and so much more took shape before their very eyes.

As they walked towards the marketplace, Raunroval asked questions about just about everything he could set his eyes on, and Celebrimbor did his best to answer them all, but walking about his city at this time of day made him look about his city with fresh eyes.

Ost-in-Edhil meant "Fortress of the Eldar" because that is what it had been made to be (that, and dear cousin Galadriel had never been very good at coming up with creative names). Over time, however, the city had become more and more open to outsiders, first allowing them to set up shop outside the gates, then allowing them in, and finally, eventually, allowing them to attain citizenship in Eregion.

Lindon may have been the highest political power in Middle Earth, but Ost-in-Edhil had become its beating heart, the center of all trade West of the Misty Mountains.

Finally, they came to the marketplace. It had always been Celebrimbor's favorite place in the city: no matter the time of year, there was always something going on. During the cold months, when the roads were clogged with snow, making it inconvenient even for elves to stray far, local craftsmen held classes for prospective apprentices. During the warmer months however, the marketplace would be flooded with merchants from Khazad-Dûm and Lindon, as well as people who had sailed up the river Glanduin from Gondor, the Southlands, and even as far away as Harad!

In addition to all of these were the nomads who came every spring and fall like clockwork. In the spring, they brought bioluminescent yarn from their flocks of sheep, and in the fall, they traded wares from all across Middle Earth in exchange for food and provisions for the winter.

The most peculiar thing about them, though, was the fact that nearly all of these nomads were half elven (or some other mixture of the three kindreds, though half elven/half mannish hybrids seemed to be most common among them). Their kind had sprung up during the War of Wrath when Men and Elves were working closely together and, instead of joining with one kindred or another, they had struck out on their own.

Some, content to linger in the world and live their lives, had been familiar faces in Ost-in-Edhil from the day they had first been let into the city. Others, called by the mystery that lay beyond the bounds of the world, only came from a century or so before blowing away like mist on the wind.

Celebrimbor looked around the marketplace, searching for a panicked mother or a frantic father until, soon enough, he spotted a man hunting through the crowd, occasionally calling out, "Raunroval!"

Celebrimbor pointed him out to Raunroval. "Is that your father, winë?

Raunroval shaded his eyes and looked where Celebrimbor directed him. "Yes!" His face split into a blinding grin and he began squirming to get to the ground.

Celebrimbor tightened his grip, lest Raunroval became lost against amidst the sea of legs. "Careful now. I will bring you to your father quickly enough."

Shouldering his way through the crowd was not difficult. Most residents of Ost-in-Edhil recognized him as their lord and the others followed their lead and moved out of his way. The man spotted them while they were still a long way off, running to close the distance.

He skidded to a stop several feet away and gave a hasty bow, realizing who was holding his son. "Forgive me, my lord. I apologize for any trouble my son has caused you; he is very young."

For all his stiff manner and cold words, Celebrimbor could see the way his fingers twitched, wanting to grab his son right out of Celebrimbor's arms.

Celebrimbor didn't hold him in suspense for long. He set Raunroval down and offered his hand in friendship. "There is no need for forgiveness, good sir. Your son has done no harm, and Ost-in-Edhil is an open city to all, including the young.

@the-southlands

[preheville]

wow tried to send an ask and accidentally unfollowed whoops. anyways where did your love of hole-theory and house-theory come from? im always enraptured by ur reblogs w those tags

💔💔💔💔💔 sorry i can’t answer your ask right now because portal unfollowed me…

good question actually! i’m writing a video essay about some aspects of “house theory” right now and i try to briefly interrogate that interest … i think that my interest developing to the level it’s at right now was a natural conclusion to my media diet developing as i grew older. i used to be really scared of scary movies as a child, but as i grew i started shedding those apprehensions and started pursuing more horror books and movies and podcasts like the magnus archives and the conjuring and other genre staples at first, before developing a taste for the genre. running parallel to that, i also just plain got smarter and developed an interest in literary analysis et voilà!

so i guess that answers the how question and as for why, well, i just think it is so interesting to interrogate the nature of the buildings we spend so much time in and have so many emotions tangled up with - for many of us, housing is something we take for granted and they pose as such intimate reflections of our inner selves. theoretically they should be nothing but virtuous, but as is natural they morph and contort according to the nature or absence of the inhabitants.

the modern haunted house as we know it actually arises from a very interesting place that mirrors this literary understanding - when americans first began building homes, they were desperate to emulate european society and constructed large and elaborate houses of the style you might see in the richer streets of england, but after the first world war, many rich families turned towards more modern architecture, and, therefore, modern lifestyles; and those older houses were left abandoned. their former inhabitants viewed them as testaments to a time bygone, monuments to the dated and crushed dreams of their forefathers, and to everyone else, they simply became dilapidated, rotting, scary eyesores. after all, there is something distinctly anxiety-inducing about seeing a place that ought be full of life left empty and dead. and as that relation grew stronger, our understanding of houses as being haunted grew - and now we are able to use the haunted house as a vehicle for struggles as broad as class, or gender, or family structures. isn’t that so interesting? that’s a very bare-bones history and very basic examples of what the haunted house serves to represent in fiction, but i love seeing where we can take this idea of representative houses!

hole theory is less of a passion of mine because it’s, to me at least, less specific, but i love to employ it as a sort of magnifying glass. absence and lack, too, serve as very unique indicators of different things in fiction - some of my favourite examples include the chalk outlines of the fallen duelists in revolutionary girl utena’s black rose arc and the ‘abyss’ theory applied to the bong joon-ho’s filmography - for example, the tunnel in memories of murder and what it uniquely represents in that narrative.

this kind of got away from me but i love when common things are explore to such an extent in fiction, i love picking at it! and i am glad you are having fun picking at it with me!

[machine-herald-archive]

Ensemble - Rayla Heide

The plump belly of the Rising Howl looms before me, churning with its endless gears and elaborate ironwork. Some say the Howl is named for the wrought iron wolf that cries atop the apex of the hexdraulic descender; others swear the ghost of a black-veiled gentle-servant haunts the cabin, and when the Howl lifts him away from his lost love in Zaun, the sounds of his moans reverberate and shake its metal core. Many Piltovans, convinced as they are in their own sound judgment, are sure the name refers to nothing more than the cold wind whistling between the crevasses below their city.

But to me the Howl is not a single lone cry. It is an orchestra of noise, a melodic blend of a thousand unique sounds. It is why I am drawn to the machine.

The multi-tiered elevator, supported by three vertical structural beams which span the height of the city, descends to the Promenade level and slows to a lurching halt.

“Disembark for the Promenade!” the conductor announces, her voice magnified by a bell-shaped sonophone. She adjusts her thick goggles as she speaks. “Boundary Markets, College of Techmaturgy, Horticultural Center.”

Passengers pour from the descender. Dozens of others board and spread throughout its floors: merchants traveling to Zaun to trade in the night bazaars, workers returning home to sleep, wealthy Zaunites visiting night blooms in glass-domed cultivairs. Then there are the unseen riders who have made the Howl their home. I spy them scurrying in the shadows: plague rats, shadowhares, and viridian beetles.

Sometimes I climb down the crevasses to descend to the Sump, but tonight I long for the harmony of noise I know the descender will create.

Instead of entering through the doorway, I swing around the outside and lock my grip on the bottommost bar where ridged steel brackets frame the glass windows. My metal plates clank as I clamber onto the Howl, drawing stares from the passengers and what looks like a grimace from the conductor. My knowledge of facial expressions grows each day.

Most passengers ride within the compartment, away from the cold and soot, but outside, in the open air, I can hear the satisfying click-clack of mechanical parts snapping into place and the soft hiss of steam releasing as we sink into Zaun. And besides, I don’t easily fit through most doors.

A small boy clings to his sump-scrapper father’s hand and gapes at me through the window. I wink at him and his mouth opens in what I estimate is surprise. He ducks behind his father.

“Going down!” says the conductor. She rings a large bell and adjusts the dials on a bright red box. I can almost feel the commands buzz as they surge through wires into the descender’s engine.

Below us, the iron pinnacles of Zaun’s towers and green glass cultivairs glitter like candles in the dimming light. The Howl whirs and creaks as its cranks spiral down against the three towering beams, weighted down with iron, steel, and glass. A blast of steam whistles from the topmost pipe.

Inside the cabin, the sump-scrapper and his child look on as a musician tunes his four-stringed chittarone and begins a sonorous melody. His tune synchronizes with the clacking gears and whirring machinery of the Howl. The father taps his foot to the rhythm. A beetle snaps her pincers as she scrambles away from the man’s heavy boot. A gang of chem-punks lean against the wall in soft repose, a pause so unlike their usual frenzied jaunts through the city.

The Howl whirs in its perfect fusion of sounds during our descent. I marvel at the symphony around me and find myself humming along to the deep buzzing tones. The rhythm thrums through me and I wonder if those around me feel it.

“Entresol!” the conductor calls out as the descender slows. A pair of couriers carrying parcels wrapped in twine disembark, along with a crew of chemtech researchers and a crowd of chem-merchants. A merry crowd of Zaunites from the theater district steps aboard.

“Down we go!” she says, ringing her bell, and the Howl responds with a whir. The descender sinks and the windows mist as vapor pours from pipes above. Beads of water spread across my metallic chest as the harmony of clanking machinery and whooshing steam begins anew.

A discordant murmur interrupts the pattern of sounds. The vibration is subtle, but I can tell something is off. The descender continues as if all was normal, until a jarring clunk breaks its perfect rhythm.

Though I have never dreamed, I know a break in the pattern this abrupt is a machine’s most frightening nightmare.

The spiralling gearway is jammed, and the cabin’s iron brackets grate against it with a horrible screech. Many lives are at stake and I feel the machine’s pain as it braces desperately against the support beams. The entire weight of the Howl heaves against its bending columns and the cabin tilts at a lurching angle. Rivets burst from their seams as metal is pulled away from itself.

We wobble for a moment, then drop.

Inside the cabin, passengers scream and grasp at the nearest railing as they plunge. This is a different kind of howl.

I tighten my hold on the cabin’s bottommost platform. I extend my other arm, launching it toward one of the three vertical structural beams. The iron column is slippery in the mist and my grip misses it by inches. I retract my arm and steam blasts from my back as I try again, whizzing it toward a second beam. Another miss.

Time slows. Inside the cabin, the chem-punks cling to a ledge while the viridian beetle flies out an open window. The sump-scrapper and his child brace themselves against the glass, which fractures under their weight. The boy tumbles out, scrabbling at the frame with his fingers before he slips and falls.

I reach up and catch the boy in mid-flight, then retract my arm.

“Hold on,” I say.

The child clings to the plates on my back.

I fire my arm up toward the support beam once more, and this time my hand meets solid metal with a resounding clang as I secure my hold. My other arm is forced to extend as it’s wrenched down by the plunging cabin, so much that I feel my joints might fracture. Suspended in midair, I try to steady my grip.

With a great jolt, my arm jerks as the descender halts its freefall. It shakes from the sudden stop, now supported only by my arm. The boy shudders as he tightens his grip on my back.

The Howl is still fifty feet above the ground, hovering over the Sump-level buildings. My overlapping metal plates groan as they strain against the weight and I concentrate all my efforts on holding myself together. If I fall, the Howl falls with me, along with all its passengers.

While locking my arm onto the support beam, I slide my arm down the pillar. We drop ten feet and the cabin sways precariously before stabilizing again.

“Sorry about that!” I shout. Statements of empathy can be reassuring to humans in moments of crisis.

I must try again. I must be strong.

I release my grip on the support column ever so slightly, and with a piercing screech we gently slide down the remaining forty feet to the ground. My valves sigh as they contract.

Passengers echo my sighs as they stumble through the doors and broken windows into the Sump level, leaning on each other for support.

The boy on my back breathes rapidly as he holds my neck. My arms whir as I retract them and lower myself to the floor, crouching down so the child can touch the ground. He scrambles back to his father, who embraces him.

The conductor emerges from the descender and looks at me.

“You saved us. All of us,” she says, her voice shaking from what I think is shock. “Thank you.”

“I am simply fulfilling my purpose,” I say. “I am glad you are not hurt. Have a good day.”

She smiles, then turns to direct the crowd of Zaunites who have gathered to offer their assistance to the passengers and begin repairs. One of the chem-punk girls carries the musician’s chittarone for him as he crawls from the descender. Several of the theater-folk comfort an elderly man.

Two Hex-mechanics stumble toward me and I direct them to a medical officer who is setting up a tented repair station. The murmurs of the passengers and the hissing groans of the wounded descender blend with the whirrs and churning of the Sump. The steam-engine within my chest murmurs along, and I am moved to whistle a tune.

The boy turns and waves shyly at me.

I wave back.

He runs to catch up with his father, his heavy boots tapping a rhythm on the cobblestones. Shifting wheels sing and gears click-clack within the belly of the Rising Howl. The viridian beetle snaps her pincers in time with the beat as she zooms away into the Sump.

[comparativetarot]

Nine of Swords. Art by Nara Lesser, from Neurotic Owl’s Faerytale Tarot.

Someone is going to have to beg me to stop doing Snow Queen cards – it won’t work, though.

I was a little stumped on this till a friend suggested the Snow Queen and it was just PERFECT. I know I’ve been a little dismissive of Kay previously, and in general he is pretty awful. BUT if you read the the demon glass getting caught in his eye and heart as a metaphor for depression, suddenly Kay is infinitely more understandable and everything makes a sad sense. And then if you go one step further and wonder why a nearly pubescent child might be suddenly depressed and also acting out this very exaggerated stereotypical masculinity it becomes very easy to read Kay as a trans child in a time and place when that would barely have been imaginable for them.

“I think it is gone,” he said. But it was not gone; it was one of those bits of the looking-glass—that magic mirror, of which we have spoken—the ugly glass which made everything great and good appear small and ugly, while all that was wicked and bad became more visible, and every little fault could be plainly seen. Poor little Kay had also received a small grain in his heart, which very quickly turned to a lump of ice. He felt no more pain, but the glass was there still. “Why do you cry?” said he at last; “it makes you look ugly. There is nothing the matter with me now. Oh, see!” he cried suddenly, “that rose is worm-eaten, and this one is quite crooked. After all they are ugly roses, just like the box in which they stand,” and then he kicked the boxes with his foot, and pulled off the two roses.

“Kay, what are you doing?” cried the little girl; and then, when he saw how frightened she was, he tore off another rose, and jumped through his own window away from little Gerda.

When she afterwards brought out the picture book, he said, “It was only fit for babies in long clothes,” and when grandmother told any stories, he would interrupt her with “but;” or, when he could manage it, he would get behind her chair, put on a pair of spectacles, and imitate her very cleverly, to make people laugh. By-and-by he began to mimic the speech and gait of persons in the street. All that was peculiar or disagreeable in a person he would imitate directly, and people said, “That boy will be very clever; he has a remarkable genius.” But it was the piece of glass in his eye, and the coldness in his heart, that made him act like this. He would even tease little Gerda, who loved him with all her heart. His games, too, were quite different; they were not so childish. One winter’s day, when it snowed, he brought out a burning-glass, then he held out the tail of his blue coat, and let the snow-flakes fall upon it. “Look in this glass, Gerda,” said he; and she saw how every flake of snow was magnified, and looked like a beautiful flower or a glittering star. “Is it not clever?” said Kay, “and much more interesting than looking at real flowers. There is not a single fault in it, and the snow-flakes are quite perfect till they begin to melt.”

Soon after Kay made his appearance in large thick gloves, and with his sledge at his back. He called up stairs to Gerda, “I’ve got to leave to go into the great square, where the other boys play and ride.” And away he went.”

Sorry, that’s a long excerpt, but it just builds Kay’s sudden coldness and disdain for girlish things really nicely. And it just happens that I had already drawn the Snow Queen as non-binary way back in the major arcana – in this reading you could see them as taking Kay because they see a reflection of themselves and intend to take away Kay’s pain in the only way they can.

Anyhow, nine of swords! Depression and maybe dysphoria! Fun times!

[vamp-orwave]

Her Favourite Worst Nightmare

III - Fugato

In Anne’s experience, Reverend Ward never made a secret of his displeasure. Perhaps it was the key to controlling his Beast; to let his Wrath trickle out slowly rather than damming it until it swells into a drowning flood. I’ll never learn to be so bold, she lamented. The Reverend took another long look at the newcomer over his thick-rimmed glasses before she disappeared down the stairs.

“Astounding, the kind of trash that washes up on our shores,” he muttered, to nods of general agreement from his fellow Sanctified.

Anne found his assessment somewhat harsh – after all, he hadn’t seen what she had – but it made sense to her that a Ventrue of his years would have to be a good judge of character. Besides, deciding who among the Damned to trust was about survival, and survival was more important than tolerance. No doubt she feels the same way about us.

“So then,” murmured Abigail – the paper-thin blonde in arsenic green to Anne’s left. “What did Beaufort have to say?”

Without so much as excusing himself, Reverend Ward took Abigail’s arm, leading his childe away to have that conversation privately. The rest of their small group splintered off to mingle.

Anne watched them go, reminding herself of her place to alleviate the sting of being ditched. You should be used to this by now, silly girl. It was Kindred nature to keep everything close to one’s chest. She felt the urge to don the Cloak of Night and eavesdrop unseen, but there were Mekhet in the room; she couldn’t risk her misbehaviour being witnessed by someone who might hold it over her head.

Alice Redman, in particular, seemed to see too much lately. Anne peered over at the lingering cluster of Carthians in the corner to note that indeed, she was already being watched. She felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. How unfair that both our clans are gifted with Obfuscate, but only hers with Auspex. There were times that Anne had prayed to know what was going through someone’s mind. But then, there were many more times when her own imagination was more than enough.

Abandoning her place by the grandfather clock, Anne found a seat on a lonely couch that conveniently put a large floral vase between her and her observer, and scooped Johann out from the pocket of her argyle cardigan. The plump, white rat chirped lovingly in her hand. She rubbed his tiny chin with her thumb as she searched for his brother. At her insistent call, Sebastian poked his black, furry nose out of her patchwork leather handbag and sniffed. With a warm smile, she stuck out her palm, and he began to climb her sleeve.

At least with these two, she was never without company. Perhaps Animalism was a better gift than Auspex after all.

Sebastian, clinging to her shoulder with tiny claws, began to lick greedily at a spot of dried blood on her bandages. Anne swiftly redirected him, plopping him down onto the lap of her long grey skirt to play with Johann. More soon, I promise, she chittered, adjusting the gauze of her bandages against her cheek. They itched terribly, but without them, her best white blouse would be stained red and yellow by the purulent Vitae leaking from the many huge, open sores that warped her face. It was a cruel twist of the Nosferatu curse that magnified tenfold the insecurities she still carried from chronic acne in life. Laundry aside (which was already a losing battle for anyone who spent as much time underground), Anne wasn’t ready to face the disgust that her naked visage could elicit in the other Clans. Most of the time, it was better not to be noticed at all.

Isn’t that right, babies? She tickled Johann and Sebastian’s monochrome bellies to a chorus of approving squeaks. True, true! They told her. Hidden is safe!

It appeared, however, as though the wisdom of rodents was wasted on some. Desmond Kale, for example, burst through the door of Elysium and begun tracking wet footprints along the fine rugs and hardwood floor. Shedding blades of grass, he hastened over to Kostya and Carsten, who were quietly chatting by the cedar chiffonier.

Anne was wary of the Circle at the best of times. To the Lancea Sanctum, they were heathens; unrepentant sinners who corrupt and tempt mortal souls away from their salvation, subverting their God-given role instead of just denying it. There had been centuries of war between the two Covenants, and yet Desmond had never been anything but nice to her. Kostya Maksivinivich bore his monstrous cruelty as plainly as the skull that adorned his face, but as her Sire and Priscus, he’d always treated her fairly. For that, he had her respect.

Desmond began to speak excitedly to his fellow Acolyte. Carsten Sobels watched and listened, silent as always. The Ordo Dracul were heretics of a different sort, she'd been told – turning their blasphemy inward in an attempt to improve upon God's design – but Anne felt godliness in Carsten. Clanmate and confidant both, it was his unwavering kindness and generosity that gave her the strength to rise every sunset.

Perhaps this was one conversation where she wouldn't be unwelcome – but the time to find out had already passed.

Duke Penthièvre reappeared from the underground sitting room with Mr. Donovan's guest in tow. Once again, he clapped to draw the room's attention.

"Kindred of the Court," he called out with a glib smile. "As His Excellency’s Harpy, it is my great pleasure to announce that Prince Matthew Beaufort, Viscount of the White Shore, has declared Miss Judith Doulton Acknowledged within the City of Adelaide."

She's staying?

A throng of disquieted murmurs went up. What could someone like her possibly want in the City of Churches, Anne wondered. Over her shoulder, she saw Reverend Ward slip away through the door to the conservatory, fuming, with little mystery as to why. The Lancea Sanctum had done its utmost to maintain order in Adelaide since its founding, and Judith had troublemaker written all over her.

The duke returned to his business as Judith's Firebrand co-conspirators surrounded her to offer their congratulations. She seemed weary, but visibly relieved, punctuating her indistinct speech here and there with a flash of nervous smile. Anne recalled the sight of those stark white fangs – those plush red lips – assaulting the neck of the poor woman in The Rack who endured Judith's 'affections.' She must be a Daeva, she thought bitterly. Temptation is in their blood, and they only Embrace the beautiful.

As though he could smell her deviance, Desmond was drawn to Judith like a bee to honey, and Anne's Clanmates followed. Idly stroking her rats, she watched from afar as the group exchanged introductions and made small talk, occasionally interrupted by short rounds of laughter at the presumably witty repartee. She dreamed of how it would feel to have such a natural charisma; to make a room full of people laugh with her rather than at her.

Suddenly, Kostya gestured across the room at Anne. All seven Kindred turned to stare directly at her. She froze like a deer in headlights. Hidden is safe. She willed her vampiric blood to shroud her in the Cloak of Night, scrunching her eyes shut. When she opened them, they were still looking. Damn it, she cursed herself – how do I keep forgetting to break line of sight? – but her frustration was quickly overcome when, having spent her Vitae in vain, she felt the Hunger rise.

It started as a sickening wave in her chest that crawled up to the back of her throat, demanding more blood. Now. As she wrestled with her Beast, each pair of eyes dropped away, save one. Judith was still staring at her. Not the way one would stare at a cockroach, or a curiosity, but the way that boys at school used to stare when they thought their friends weren't paying attention. It had been a long time since she’d seen that look, but she couldn’t forget it if she tried.

Anne shied away from the Serpent's gaze. She tugged her cardigan closer to cover her ample bust, grateful that she couldn't blush. Her thirst gnawed urgently, demanding action, and distracting her from further unwanted thoughts.

With a resigned sigh, Anne herded Johann and Sebastian into her bag, brushed off her skirt, and rose from the couch to slip from the room. She had to leave Elysium to feed, and to ignore one’s Hunger was to invite disaster. On the off chance she was needed on urgent business, Carsten had her number.

It wasn’t bad timing, all told. She'd had more than her fill of Court for now.

[start] [prev] [next]

[diamondsemeraldsandpearlsohmy]

Vogue.com

London Calling: The Cheapside Hoard On View for the First Time

The Cheapside Hoard, as it’s known, hasn’t been seen in public since 1914, is now in an exhibition at The Museum of London.

BY SARAH MOWER

October 15, 2013

Image may contain Accessories Accessory Jewelry Earring and Gemstone

Photo: Courtesy of the Museum of London

As a child growing up enamored of history, my earliest fantasy was what it would be like to find undiscovered treasure. When I was thirteen, living in the Roman city of Bath, my dream came true. My mother had passed a construction site in town and got me a Saturday job helping out on a dig run by the local museum. Every time anything is torn down in the city center of my hometown, archaeologists are given a grace period to investigate what lies beneath the foundations before the next building is thrown up. After six blissful weeks scraping away with a trowel—in what the chief archaeologist told us was a cesspit, an unglamorous rubbish dump, in other words—I turned up an oval object no bigger than half my little fingernail. My teenage scream sent everyone running. It was an amber Romano-British jewel engraved with a figure of a goddess, thrown in there, or lost, by someone who passed the spot sometime between 60 and 70 AD, perhaps on the way to the thermal spa just down the road. Hardly the most important discovery ever unearthed in my part of the world, but my own.

Well, that’s nothing compared with the mesmerizing discovery made one day in 1912 when a gang of construction workers was demolishing a building in Cheapside, in the City of London. Digging in the cellar, they came upon the biggest cache of Elizabethan and Jacobean jewelery ever found: nearly five hundred magnificent pieces made of diamond, pearl, and rubies; rings, drop earrings in the shape of bunches of grapes, multiple strings of filigree flowers, ornaments fashioned as huge bows, an exquisite gold and enamel perfume bottle, and a tiny fob-watch set in a solid geometric casing of bevelled emeralds. The men celebrated by setting off to sell their finds to a pawnbroker. Luckily, an aristocrat, Lord Harcourt, heard of it, intervened, and ordered the treasure to be bought for the nation.

The Cheapside Hoard, as it’s known, hasn’t been seen in public since 1914, is now in an exhibition at The Museum of London. No one knows who owned the treasure—but historians believe the stash is so large it must have belonged to one of the jewelers in the area, who buried it some time after the Great Fire of London, and was perhaps left to fight and die in the English Civil War, or fled the country never to return. Visitors are asked to leave bags and coats at the door before picking up magnifying glasses to marvel in close-up at wonders magically arrayed amongst portraits illustrating how Elizabethan ladies and Jacobean grandees liked to bedeck themselves. For connoisseurs and history geeks, it’s a visual feast—and one I’d bet will be serving as inspiration for many a designer. As for me? All the teenage thrill of my buried memory from Bath came flooding back, for a minute.

Source: Sarah Mower

Vogue.com 2013

[mythologyandancienthistory]

Ancient Aliens, the Gate of the Sun, and Egypt's Blue Skinned Kings

 In May 1958, when the train stopped in Bolivia at one of the stations.

 It was not expected that the train would stop, and for a reason that is not yet clear and incomprehensible, a French journalist jumped.  He got off the train, and this was not the required station.

 The train departed, carrying the journalist’s bag with him. After the train passed, the journalist stood at the station in amazement. What made him do that? He did not understand. He tried to call the next station to report his forgotten bags. It wasn't easy. Some children came to him selling old statues. He hesitated at first, then bought two statues.

 The journalist asked the child who was selling it from where? The child said to him: From the city of Tiwanaku...the oldest city here. When the French journalist looked into the child's eyes, and in them were simplicity, poverty, and something strange that had no name, the journalist sat on one of the seats laughing at what had happened. He had gotten off the train for no reason. Perhaps something was waiting for this French journalist?

Indeed, something was waiting for him. Tiwanaku was the oldest city in Bolivia, on the border of Peru and on a high plateau. In the south of one of the strange-shaped lakes, the lake has this strange name: Titicaca. In this destroyed city, only one thing remained: the Sun Gate. The gate is ordinary, but larger than all the models in some European museums.

 But it is not like that if you get close to it, and if you get closer with a magnifying glass or take pictures of it and then magnify it dozens of times. This is what the French journalist did. When he returned to Paris, he found strange drawings. He found a naked white lady. More than one lady. He found very complex mechanical machines.  If you get close to it and stick your eyes to it, you can see motors, flying saucers, and find a number of astronauts.

Uncovering the Sun Gate's Secrets and Inscriptions

Who are these people? Who built this gate? And for whom? And why? Where did the city go? and how was it? Since when? Another man was guided to translate these inscriptions...but no one cared about this portal before the newspapers of the world published its clear pictures.

The literal translation of it, and the author of this translation is one of the Spanish researchers, says: This was in the era of enormous animals and advanced human beings.

She is of another blood. They came from distant planets and found the best place on Earth in this lake. These beings, after their distant space journeys, came and dumped their waste into this lake, without landing there in the first place.

The inscriptions on the Sun Gate say: These beings did not forget to bring a mother, who is the origin of awareness, intelligence, and all of humanity. They found in this high location a suitable atmosphere for both their land and sea lives.

These inscriptions talk about the first mother. The first woman on Earth. And talking about this lake. The name of the lake is: Titicaca, which means sacred thing, and “Kaka” means in most languages: human waste. The inscriptions describe this first woman by saying: She is a woman who resembles our women. 

It has a round head, two large ears, and four fingers on each hand. Its name is Orkhona, meaning the one with the big ears. It came from the planet Venus, where the atmosphere is similar to the atmosphere on this Earth. It has a tight fit. Do not bow down and were related to an animal that resembles a pig or is a pig. She bore him many children. There are still tribes in this region that worship pigs.

The Lost Civilization of Tiwanaku and Its Connection to Ancient Myths

 The Vatican is a repository of many rare documents. In a document dating back to the year 1625, the annihilated city of Tiwanaku is described as having disappeared from the face of the earth. All that remained of it were some stones and the remains of columns. And villages used to belong to workers and peasants. This city is the remaining trace of an ancient civilization that lived here more than 15 thousand years ago. 

The city had multiple entrances, and when the city was struck by an earthquake and engulfed by fires, they buried their dead in Lake Titicaca. They were white people with golden beards - we must not forget that the people of these areas are American Indians. The inscriptions are all of white people with blue eyes and golden hair. It is something worth thinking and contemplating.

The Mystery of Blue Skin and the Pharaohs of Ancient Egypt

We now come to a question related to what we are talking about, and this important question is: Did the kings of Egypt have blue skin?

Did they dye it blue? Why were the inscriptions of kings blue or green in color?

In 1960, the Soviet scientist Kuznetsev published research on a high level of scientific and archaeological risk. The Soviet scientist resumed interpreting the phrases of the Pharaonic historian Manetho and the Greek historian Herodotus, and then he began re-reading the famous Turin Papyrus and the Palermo Stones. He wondered again: Was there a continent called Atlantis located between Africa and America, and then it all sank? 

The Pharaohs talk about people who came from the West. These people have strange shapes, sizes, and colors. It is noted that there is intense interest in the color blue, blue skin, and blue blood on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, that is, on the shores facing the continent that sank. 

And in all the folklore in these regions, we find that blue blood and the color blue are specific to kings and nobles, and even when they use the olive color, they make it for nobles as well because it is blue and green. 

There is another explanation that says that the continent of Atlantis had high plateaus and mountains... and perhaps its people were suffering from a lack of oxygen... Perhaps... It has been observed that this deficiency leads to blue skin. It has been observed that the blue color appears on the faces of some monkeys that live in high mountains.

The Symbolism of Blue in Ancient Cultures and Kingship

It is also said that the people of Atlantis migrated to the East following the catastrophe that befell them, and it is said that some of them were powerful and that they were kings over the eastern peoples. This is the meaning of the blue color that we found in the drawings of kings and nobles in Pharaonic history.

Some African tribes still see the color blue as having a special meaning.

Some of them dye animal skins blue for holidays and parties

The sacred major, and the kings of the tribes on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean preferred the color blue or violet. The Soviet scientist says that the phrase “noble blue blood” must have come from ancient times... and from the continent of Atlantis in particular!

The Tiwanaku Connection: Did People of Atlantis Come from Bolivia?

 If we add to that that those who came from the sky came from Venus - which is blue according to the ancients, then we can say that those with blue colors also came from the planet Venus. They came to Earth with a more advanced civilization.

 It is not far-fetched to say that the people of Atlantis came from the civilization of Bolivia and from the city of Tiwanaku, of which only the Sun Gate remains!

The Venus Connection: A Clue to Ancient Calendars and Civilizations

The Soviet scientist Kuznetsev was astonished when he found on the Sun Gate the oldest calendar in the whole world. This calendar says that the number of days in a year is 225 days. It is strange that this is the number of days in a year on the planet Venus, so how did the inhabitants of this region know that?! Who knows, maybe this lady with the big ears was the first woman in all of history. 

This means that this portal has transmitted to us an important historical document and that it is a publication sent by people who lived thousands of years ago because they wanted to say something important to future generations. This means that this woman is the first female, meaning that she lived millions of years ago as well. Or perhaps the inhabitants of Venus

They lived in this area for some time and tried to adapt to the climate, but they could not bear life here, so they left this trace.

The Secrets Beneath the Pyramids: Ancient Civilizations and Advanced Knowledge

If this civilization of Bolivia was the first high civilization - that is, thousands of feet above the surface of the sea, and if what remains of it is only this gate, then there is a civilization

Another most astonishing and strangest thing is that it is the Pharaonic civilization that possesses secrets that have baffled scientists, and all evidence says that beneath these pyramids is the secret of the entire universe, and that whoever knows these secrets knows the secret of the advanced ancient civilizations that came from above, and their secret is buried beneath the pyramids.

In conclusion, the mysteries surrounding the Gate of the Sun and the ancient Tiwanaku civilization remain open to various interpretations and theories. Was this gate evidence of extraterrestrial contact? Or is it simply a relic of an ancient civilization with enigmatic remnants? 

Through the study of ancient inscriptions and historical accounts, we uncover how ancient civilizations may have hidden secrets more complex than we can imagine. The question remains: Was Earth a point of contact for extraterrestrial civilizations? And were the blue-skinned kings, both in ancient Egypt and elsewhere, part of these stories that reveal our mysterious past?

Read the full article here: [the Gate of the Sun]

[petty-crush]

Notes on the New Bev Horror a thon 2024

-/—

Before the night started, I meet a woman who had been to every iteration of this annual Halloween marathon. Her joy was still that of someone first entering a new world. I second that emotion.

////-//-

This was an especially strong and highly competitive collection

1-Out of the Dark (Michael Schroeder 1988)

2-The Four Skulls of Johnathon Drake (Edward L Cahn 1959)

3-The Rift (Juan Piquer Simon 1990)

4-Rituals (Peter Carter 1977)

5-The Breed (Nicholas Mastandrea 2006)

6-Eyes of a Stranger (Ken Wiederhorn 1981)

-//-/—-

All of these films were first time watches. All of them had an audience giddy with anticipation.

-/-//—-

“Out of the Dark” left a furious impact, a rip roaring opening film.

The cast for this film is pretty incredible: Divine, Karen Black, Paul Bartel, Tab Hunter, Geoffrey Lewis, Bud Cort, Tracey Walker and so forth.

Each of the names got big cheers.

The late 80s horror era can be ether highly saccharine or wonderfully sleazy. Definitely the latter here.

A masked killer in a clown mask stalks girls from a phone sex (oh, pardon me, phone fantasy) company.

Murder at 4 dollars a minute.

The kills are quite good, but the film largely wins with moments of character interactions.

Karen Black has a nice scene with her on screen child daughter, sympathetically but honestly telling her that “daddy isn’t here because sometimes people need to go away”. It’s rather charming.

She has a more reserved, no nonsense but still caring attitude towards her work daughters.

Paul Bartel has great fun fussing with a wig as he tries to scope out why someone is trying to stay all night in a sex motel.

Divine’s moment (and sly fake mustache) is short but cutting, noting that his rival cop “couldn’t find his pecker in his pocket”.

I think this is the largest role, certainly the most action packed, I’ve seen for actor Tracey Walker. His moments of snooping while trying to avoid bullshit are delightful.

I really can’t think of anything I didn’t like about this film. It is a middleweight class, but does everything with verve. A fun party.

-///—/—/-

Equally lovely was “The Rift”, and while “Dark” was cult actors enlivening potentially stock characters with their outward charm, this film has R Lee Ermey fleshing out his acting range, clinically dissecting his character and his chain of command relation with his other actors.

This film is not above noting his ultra famous role in “Full Metal Jacket”: someone does indeed repeat the notion of a golf ball going through a garden house.

[an aside; reels 2 and 3 were originally switched. The film was restarted with a correct running order, but not before a few minutes into the third reel. Thus, the unusual sight of seeing that line murder the audience the first time, and then smirking appreciation the second time]

Helping smooth the reference is the deft timing by actor John Toles Bey as officer Skeets. This is the rare (intentionally meant) comedy character that is truly funny, as opposed to fucking annoying.

Bey somehow manages to make lines like “you’re my kind of white boy” and moments such as using magnifying glasses to stare at an ample female ass charming in their ornery way.

I like a good underwater film, especially in a submarine, and even more so when shooting a squad of penis shaped monsters. Win win win.

What exactly they are researching under the sea is a mystery, but actor Ray Wise has good moments of misdirecting weasel ness.

-///-/—////—-

This is first time in several years where the film did not end on a mid 90s and beyond (later 2000s these last few years) film. Instead it was the second to last.

“The Breed” has the amusing goal of making teens scared of and battling genetically altered dogs.

Now, I can see why a casual cinema goer may have recoiled at this idea and its execution. People generally don’t like thinking dogs will harm humans and they really don’t like seeing dogs get killed.

However, this is a horror film, and this is a screening for mega hyped cinema enthusiasts, so of course all the canine deaths and attacks were met with wild applause.

Another case of an audience at the right place ramping it up.

Speaking of, that arrow in the leg scene..ouch!

Michelle Rodriguez is the most accomplished actor here, although the most dramatic meat is between two in character brothers and how they learn to trust each other despite seeing the sibling as a fuck up.

Rodriguez is the current lover of one and the former of another, to really drive home the awkwardness.

I gleefully admit, seeing two rabid dogs chilling on the airplane wing then diving in the water to murder the male lead is pretty funny. Has a “oh, are we on camera now?!?” vibe.

-/-/——///——

The black and white classic horror spot was “Four Skulls” this year, and it hit that spot firmly if not vividly.

The finger prints that are shaped like tiny skulls result had the audience giggling.

What a strange notion to have a white head sewn onto an Indian body. Brown…chest? (As opposed to brown face).

-/-/——

I’m really torn on “Rituals”. On one hand it clearly had the best acting of the night(by Hal Holbrook & Lawrence Dane), at other times it greatly meandered, not helped by the outdoor night photography being too dark to see at times.

I had a pretty good chuckle at a character thinking his life is over because he’s “38, drunk and my last boyfriend who wasn’t in an asylum was five years ago”.

Who considers 38 old, the middle schoolers who will never watch this film?

-/———///——-/—

“Eyes of a Stranger” is also an example of a good film at maybe not the best place.

It’s a slow burn that really explodes at the end, but putting it last doesn’t do it any favors. The first five films felt of a unity, but this has an ever so soft aroma of stapled to the rest.

It’s my only real critique of the night, albeit in hindsight.

“Breed” wasn’t a better film but it was snappier paced, and a worthier stinger to end the night on.

-///-///—-

An interlude

It occurs to me now how each half of the marathon had two similar bookends separated by a palette change.

“Skulls” was a leisure 50s ride sandwiched between two goofy and highly entertaining late 80s/early 90s schlock fests.

Meanwhile, “Breed” was a teen romp n stomp between two very deep dive atmospheric moody tales from the late 70s/early 80s.

Amusing.

-/-////——-/

Anywho, back to “Eyes”.

It actually really surprised me that it’s from the beginning of the decade of greed. I would have guessed 1973 at most before knowing the true answer.

It certainly doesn’t feel like a film that was post John Carpenter’s “Halloween” and its codification of the slasher genre. Very “let’s heat up the ‘Psycho’ leftovers one more time with salt” vibe.

There is a child character that is dealing with lack of seeing and hearing after a traumatic rape. She’s not an object of pity (clearly her big sister character is more shamed than her) and this is a fine line confidently walked by a young Jennifer Jason Leigh.

She really had the stuff even at an early age. What a casting coup.

The fact that the main killer looks like Peter griffin from “family guy” doesn’t even matter. It’s all expertly and grisly directed.

The aforementioned big sister character feels like she really let her younger sibling down by her being abducted by a stranger in a car. This is a good dramatic angle for her to relentlessly pursue this murderer far beyond the normal. It’s personal and aided by guilt.

The scenes of her clinging to the balcony of an apartment, hoping dually she won’t get caught or fall to her death, are excellent.

But the real fireworks come at the end. The killer taunts the blind n deaf girl in her apartment (rented with her sis but she’s out) by moving knives, plates, and other objects she knows she just put there.

There is no sound during this sequence, only eerily silence.

The kid catches on, runs around the apartment, is chased into master bedroom, and hit repeatedly. The shock is almost overwhelming.

And then she starts to see.

Fuzzy at first, shapes and colors come into play (we see from her POV) then she hits her 2nd attacker and wanders to the dresser where the gun is.

She shoots him.

Her clothes torn, her breath short, she wanders into the bathroom and starts to see more.

For the first time, she sees her teenage self

The camera lingers on her. It is a generally moving scene.

The killer lunges from off camera.

Finally the big sister returns. Grabs the gun. Shoots in the head. Crying. Stops at the young girl talking for the first time in years. A tender embrace.

Emotionally devastating, and richly rewarding after wandering with the film at a post midnight hour.

It all comes together.

-///——//—-

On the way out of the theatre I received my “I survived the whole night” gift; a sweet patch to sew on.

With or without it, the memories from tonight will remain. The sharp sense of triumphant joy and oooing outlines of shock.

Like any festival, of any art, it varies from year to year. But the accumulated effect, the greatest highs, remain.

I actually, overall, liked this one better than last year. And that was also a good one.

Like the woman who has seen all these nights of horror mystery, I add it to the deep treasures of my experiences. I am open to new things, and I am rewarded for that.

Can’t ask for anything more satisfying.

[barnshenntoys]

Unlocking the World of Learning: Educational Toys for 2-Year-Olds

Every parent desires to give their child the best start in life. In the whirlwind of toddlerhood, where curiosity knows no bounds and exploration is the order of the day, educational toys stand as invaluable tools for fostering growth and development. At the age of two, children are undergoing rapid cognitive, physical, and emotional development. Thus, selecting the right toys can play a crucial role in shaping their budding intellect and preparing them for the journey ahead.

In this comprehensive guide, we delve into the world of educational toys tailored specifically for two-year-olds. From sensory experiences to fine motor skill development, language acquisition to social interaction, we explore a myriad of options designed to captivate young minds and ignite the flame of curiosity.

The Importance of Educational Toys

Before we embark on our exploration of educational toys, it's essential to understand why they are so vital for the development of toddlers.

Stimulating Curiosity: Two-year-olds are naturally curious beings, eager to explore the world around them. Educational toys engage their senses and spark curiosity, encouraging them to actively discover and learn.

Promoting Development: At this tender age, children are rapidly developing essential skills such as language, fine and gross motor skills, and social interaction. Educational toys provide a platform for honing these skills in a fun and interactive manner.

Building Confidence: Mastering new tasks and skills boosts a child's self-esteem and confidence. Educational toys offer opportunities for achievement and success, fostering a positive self-image in young learners.

Encouraging Creativity: Creativity is the cornerstone of innovation and problem-solving. Educational toys that encourage imaginative play and experimentation lay the foundation for creative thinking in later years.

Top Educational Toys for 2-Year-Olds

Now, let's dive into the exciting realm of educational toys specifically curated to cater to the developmental needs of two-year-olds:

1. Shape Sorters and Stackers:

These classic toys help develop hand-eye coordination, fine motor skills, and shape recognition.

Colorful shapes and engaging designs capture the child's attention while they learn to sort and stack.

2. Puzzle Playsets:

Chunky wooden or foam puzzles with large pieces are perfect for little hands.

Puzzles promote problem-solving skills, spatial awareness, and shape recognition.

3. Building Blocks:

Soft, oversized blocks are ideal for budding architects.

Building and stacking blocks encourage creativity, spatial reasoning, and hand-eye coordination.

4. Musical Instruments:

From drums and xylophones to shakers and tambourines, musical instruments provide a multisensory experience.

Music enhances auditory perception, rhythm recognition, and fine motor skills.

5. Interactive Books:

Books with flaps, textures, and sound effects offer an immersive reading experience.

Interactive books promote language development, vocabulary expansion, and cognitive skills.

6. Role-Play Sets:

Pretend play sets such as kitchen sets, doctor kits, and tool benches encourage imaginative play.

Role-playing fosters social skills, empathy, and creativity.

7. Sensory Play Toys:

Playdough, kinetic sand, water tables, and sensory bins provide tactile experiences.

Sensory play enhances sensory processing skills, language development, and creativity.

8. Fine Motor Skill Toys:

Toys such as bead mazes, pegboards, and threading toys refine fine motor skills.

These toys strengthen hand muscles and hand-eye coordination, essential for activities like writing and drawing.

9. Outdoor Exploration Kits:

Gardening sets, bug catchers, and magnifying glasses inspire outdoor exploration.

Outdoor play promotes physical development, sensory experiences, and an appreciation for nature.

10. Shape and Color Recognition Toys:

Sorting cups, nesting toys, and color matching games reinforce early math and literacy concepts.

These toys facilitate cognitive development, pattern recognition, and critical thinking skills.

Conclusion

Educational toys are not merely playthings; they are powerful tools for shaping young minds and fostering holistic development. For two-year-olds embarking on their journey of discovery, the right toys can make all the difference. From enhancing cognitive skills to promoting social interaction and creativity, the educational toys mentioned above offer a rich tapestry of learning experiences.

As parents, caregivers, and educators, it is our privilege and responsibility to nurture the innate curiosity and potential of every child. By providing them with the right toys and opportunities for exploration, we lay the foundation for a lifetime of learning and growth. So, let's embark on this journey together, unlocking the world of learning one toy at a time.

[xylophone888]

ill go first

1) rincewind peels potatoes angling the peeler away from himself with lots of short slices instead of several long ones bc as he puts it "im not risking it i know how sharp these things are and vegetables are slippery in general"

2) twoflower is quite severely lactose intolerant but is nonetheless the kind of man to still insist on putting strawberry icecream into his system and then suffer immensely

3) rincewinds favorite colors are red and pink and he was severely surprised as a young lad to learn pink is considered feminine

4) twoflower can both knit and crochet and is constantly producing sweaters and socks for rincewind in some of the most outrageous colors possible which rincewind actually loves but would never admit it to anyone including himself

5) twoflower has uhh knitted? is that even a word??? an impressively large scarf for hex over the course of a few months and ponder only puts it on hex for new years (it only fits a part of it nowadays but still is huge and ponders whole team has to coordinate to tie it up) because while the productivity does increase by about 1000% every single component of hex including the ants also starts overheating immediately

6) twoflower has an endless number of relatives all over the agatean empire and at least three of them are making pottery for a living

7) twoflower is an only child and his parents have actually been expecting a girl so his mother taught him all the traditional agatean woman stuff like proper back massages (which he exercises on rincewind who doesn't particularly mind despite feeling like hes been ran over by an asphalt flattener afterwards (despite? more like because)) and how to poison an annoying government official and how to properly tie up a funeral robe incase the annoying government official is your spouse etc

8) rincewinds favorite gemstones are rhodochrosite and spessartine garnet, twoflowers is citrine, ponders is amber because of the fossils

9) ponder has several amber encased ancient insects sitting on his desk as a gift from rincewind and regularly stares at them for hours trying to decipher what current animal they evolved into

10) twoflower loves the morporkian culture of deep frying everything edible and solid enough to be put in oil and considers it one of the biggest culinary wonders ever

11) ponder hates boiled carrots

12) rincewind is good at making egg fried rice

13) ponder actually wears pants because he has to work with a ton of various chemicals and spells when altering hex and cloth is at least some protection from a stray polka dot coloring spell or a vial of liquid bleach

14) rincewind is extremely good with potions and is probably the only wizard whose office has bubbling green liquid in glass labware for a reason other than showing off

15) ponder likes those little toys of dogs shaking their head on a spring and has one perched somewhere on hex to correctly identify how much hex is shaking while processing its tasks

16) twoflowers living room still has that pole he bought on his vacation standing in a corner

17) twoflower takes at least half an hour from each day of his to dust all the knickknacks he has because he wants to see them in full glory

18) rincewind had to convince twoflower to either cover up or move into a shady place a ball of clear quartz he bought as a souvenir because flower wouldn't believe it could burn his house down so rince had to pull out the magnifying glass and take him outside for a little optics lesson

19) twoflower loves corny romance books of the kind that they sell at train stations to occupy you for an hour or so

20) rincewind eats apples fully including the stem

21) when rincewind took twoflower to ankh-morpork for a second vacation attempt flower immediately was fascinated with trains so rincewind had to endure at least four rides somewhere and back from somewhere to keep him company until eventually twoflowers attention went elsewhere

22) rincewind has a very specific hill which he digs for everything he can find on every week whenever hes in ankh-morpork during the warmer months despite usually only ever finding shards of granite and recently broken underbed pots

23) rincewind loves weighted blankets while twoflower can't stand them so in winter they have to sleep under two different covers on the same bed to not bother eachother

24) ponder adores journaling and has a full on diary in the form of an incredibly thick notebook

25) rincewind writes down recipes and forgets about them

26) twoflower likes it when merengues (is that a word? like the egg sugar beat thingies yknow) are slightly chewy

27) up until he was twenty or so rincewind used to have his hair completely cover his eyes because of how much there was of it, then he finally got a haircut

28) sometimes ponder almost writes out "+++" at the start of his sentences

29) rincewind feels quite perplexed about the fact that orange haired people are called "redheads" and not "orangeheads"

30) rincewind is deeply terrified of thunderstorms

31) twoflower wears silk shirts and can even afford to have them be purple now that he's a government worker almost next to the emperor (that being one of cohens (hope i spelled that right) sons who was mature enough to take up that position) but doesn't actually own any purple ones because he just likes green and yellow more

friendly invitation:

reblog this post with whatever little tiny headcanons silly thoughts goofy ideas you have for your fav characters that you want to share but they don't seem large enough to deserve a whole separate post so you never talk about them despite wanting to