#ought to know

[weepingdalliance]

Words aren't everything I swear- I'll die screaming this!!

"Sorry if I hurt you" the only thing that can make this insincere is the intention behind it. I promise you there are people who've learnt the art of saying the right thing without meaning any of it. It's not a manipulative tactic because let's face it sometimes we do things and we don't anticipate the outcome. I'm acknowledging that I hurt you even though that wasn't my intention. You've gotta see that.

What's manipulative is craftly wording apologies, or requests to throw people for a loop. What's manipulative is saying, "sorry that I hurt you" when you don't mean shit, you're not apologetic, you're just saying that to get back in someone's good graces.

I'll scream that till my face is blue. It doesn't mean you shouldn't be intentional with your words, I just need you to understand that even intentionally worded apologies will do you no good and this is where I agree with Nina if they don't take accountability and understand the impact of their actions.

When I say, "sorry if I hurt you, but-" what I mean is when I did said action hurting you wasn't my intention but now I know doing that hurt you and for that I am sorry. This is where I'm coming from. I didn't just set out to hurt you. And this shouldn't excuse repeat offenders, because they knew and still went ahead and did it. This is only for those out of the blue, once in a while times.

Sorry if I hurt you, but- I was triggered//I was having a bad day//you touched a sore spot//I didn't know this was a sore spot for you// I think it's important to also see where someone is coming from. What's important for me is intention. What's important is honesty. What's important is that you see that what you did hurt me and you avoid a repeat of it if we have a conversation about it. If you don't hold space for each other to be honest, true and vulnerable what's the use? What's the use of surface level apologies and communication because this is what you should say or this is how you should say what needs to be said?

In essence words will never be able to capture all that we're trying to convey.

"You can come if you want to," that offers me grace and space. It doesn't put pressure on me like, "I want you to come" because then there's not a lot of wiggle room for me when I want to back out. For some of y'all that spells doom, that they didn't want you there and if they wanted you there they would've said something along the lines of -

That's your interpretation. That's you reading between the lines. That's your comprehension of what they said. You can either ask for clarity or jump to your own conclusions.

I'll add more common phrases I've come across as I remember them.

I've been told I lack social skills 😂😂

[tahopo]

we truly regressed when people started buying into the genderbending is inherently transphobic thing. yeah that twelve year old being inquisitive and having fun on deviantart was your enemy all along.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Lackadaisy Enrichment

[thatsbelievable]

[cynthia39100]

Merlin rewatch -- S1E4: The Poisoned Chalice

Merlin & Arthur end scene

This scene is the reason I love this episode so much.

It started with Arthur casually dropping by the infirmary. I liked that small smile when he spotted Merlin not dying on the bed but sitting upright and eating. He then noticed Gaius and gave him a little nod. Good kid. (Also that short brown jacket suited him so well!)

Another gorgeous shot with them looking into each other's eyes ~ A hint of teasing was still in Arthur's voice when he said " Still alive then." but his expression and his movement were very gentle. Then he just turned all honest and soft. When he reminded Merlin to work the next day there was none of the usual demanding tone even though he bulged his eyes and try to look threatening.

I also liked that he played down his attribution in this save-Merlin mission, just like he didn't brag about his heroic deed to Morgana earlier. " A half-decent servant is hard to come by," he said. Just a roundabout way to praise Merlin's courage. He probably didn't think his achievement was nearly as brave as Merlin's. Merlin was an incompetent servant yet was willing to drink poison for him. Whereas Arthur had all the skills he needed for the quest and only survived because of an unknown sorcerer's help.

Merlin didn't think that, of course, so he called Arthur back and they had this gorgeous exchange.

The lines were so simple yet conveyed so much. It might be the first time they truly stood on equal ground. They were always casual with each other of course, but it felt like a new level. Before, it was "a brave, funny peasant" or " a prat but good-hearted prince". Now, they were two persons who were willing to risk their lives for one another, despite the restriction of their respective rank, and they recognised this shift in their relationship in this short exchange! Beautiful, beautiful scene.

<- Prev [other episodes]

[bergoop]

He meant this positively, by the way.

(x)

[sollucets]

ployphach phatchatorn as taemrak | wandee goodday, episode one

[gingermintpepper]

One of my biggest pet peeves is the assumption that something has to be sad for it to be tragic.

I've always been a big believer of the 'Apollo has an awful love life'/'Apollo is plain unlucky with love' line of thinking but it does bother me that the general reasoning for that statement is given to the concept of 'Apollo is somehow undesireable and thus rejected' (Cassandra/Daphne/Marpessa) or 'his lovers die young and thus their love is unfulfilled' (Cyparissus/Hyacinthus/Coronis). I personally think that's a very unfortunate way of looking at things - not only because it neglects the many perfectly cordial entanglements and affairs Apollo has had, both mortal and divine - but because it presents a very shallow interpretation of the concepts of love and loss and how loss affects people.

Apollo can still grieve lovers that have a long, healthy life. The inherent tragedy of an immortal who knows his lovers and children will die and cannot stop it does not stop being tragic simply because those lovers and children live long, fulfilled lives. The inherent tragedy of loss does not stop being tragic simply because someone knows better than to mourn something that was always going to end.

What is tragic is not that Apollo loves and loses but that loss itself follows him. Apollo does not love with the distance of an immortal, he does not have affairs and then leaves never to listen to their prayers again. He does not have offspring and then abandon them to their trials only to appear when it is time to lead them to their destinies. He raises his young, he protects the mothers of his children, he blesses the households that have his favour and multiplies their flocks that they may never go hungry. He educates his sons, he adorns his daughters and even in wrath he is quick to come to his senses and regret the punishments he doles out.

Apollo loves. And like mortals, there will always be some part of him that wishes to protect the objects of his affections. Apollo, however, is also an emissary of Fate. He knows that the fate of all mortal things is death. He knows that to love a mortal is to accept that eventually he will have to bury them. There is no illusion of forever, there is no fantasy where he fights against the nature of living things and shields his beloveds from death. Apollo loves and because of that love, he also accepts.

And that, while beautiful, is also tragic.

[draconic-absurdism]

DESPERATE MEASURES

Story below the cut

An image of a doorway flutters in hir mind as ze shimmies upward ever further, nearing the flattening of the smooth linoleum pane, nearly teetering off the edge. And as hir vision blurs again, surely ze will fall. The wall, crisp and cold, audibly clacks, a desperate grasping with useless hooven fingers, tinged with a pulling at hir fuzzy chest as ze slides hirself up. There's no railing, nothing to grip.

Falling wouldn't be so bad, really. It never is, here in this place. Clouds roll on and on. It's comforting, almost, breaking barriers that, in a sense, are physically impossible, over and over again. To rely on something that contradicts nature. Or is it that nature itself is contradictory?

But ze's never made it quite this far before. As hir fingers crest the corner, ze pulls hirself up, slipping a final time before maneuvering one hoof onto flat land. But as ze huffs in relief, the image flickers again, and hir heart recoils into itself in horror as it realizes the door ze pictures has no stairway leading up, no clouds, no bluish tinge left to the sky. This is all wrong. How hadn't I realized?

Maybe this isn't the end of the path. But ze manages to arch hir head back far enough to get a glimpse up at the endless vertical stretch of the architecture, absurd in its scale, vanishing up into a single point in space beyond a layer of clouds so far up that they may as well have been pixels on a screen, and ze sees that this is indeed the wrong place and the wrong time.

I'm going to give up again. I'm going to stop trying again. It wasn't so bad in the water, floating around on the surface but never really breaking through. But even as ze mutters to hirself, the truth of the matter has already been decided, and bile rises in hir throat as ze realizes that an attempt at something so futile as this may not be worthwhile. Or maybe it is. Either way, in the end, you find that despite how gratingly alone you may feel, you aren't in solitude nearly as often as you think you are.

"Come up with me." The voice isn't startling. It's always a new one, but it says the same thing. It's the tone that really gets to hir. Sometimes sincere and sometimes otherwise, not like ze can ever tell the difference regardless.

"No," ze retorts, letting one hoof slip back down the slope.

The creature's slit eyes open up in what appears to be genuine surprise. "Oh."

"You can't help me. I'm in the wrong place."

"I don't think so."

'You don't get to tell me if I am or not."

"That's true...."

It's a nonsense conversation, the dragon lacking the entirety of context surrounding the boar's circumstances. Even if the discussion persisted for quite a while, it wouldn't understand beyond what is mostly universal, would it? But to say anything actually true to hirself would be to risk a level of vulnerability that ze's never quite known how to reign in. If it was called small talk, why did it always feel like hir lungs were set ablaze? A surface tension that can't be broken.

"...I can take you back down, then. So you don't have to fall, at least."

The offer almost makes hir laugh. Almost. "Frankly, I'd rather you just eat me at this point."

"Sure." It opens its maw.

The boar is genuinely surprised to have met someone who picks up on jokes even less often than hirself. Ze goes to scratch hir chin before realizing with a start that ze's still in a rather precarious situation, straightening up hir spine and smooshing her chest back up against the wall.

At some point in the moment of silence that follows, the dragon realizes its mistake and snaps its jaws shut with an audible clack. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

This time, the boar really does laugh. "You're fine."

Though the massive reptile's neck quickly disappears into a thick layer of fluffy white cumulus clouds, most of its body completely out of view, the boar gets the sense that its claws are shuffling uncomfortably in the grass so far below. The silence flows through both of their lungs on the next inhale, and the boar scoots up to stand along the edge of the flat plane, where there's a bit more room to shift around.

"I like the sound your hooves make," the dragon huffs.

"Oh, thanks. I liked the click of your teeth."

"Thanks."

There's another ten seconds or so of silence, and the shifting of the beast's claws grows slightly audible. But at least to the boar, it's not an uncomfortable silence, not really. Something about this thing in all its absurdity, its sheer size, the sharpness of its bladed face juxtaposed with its awkward expression, its fangs that jut out and give it a bit of a lisp, is really likable.

"I'm afraid that I like you." Why did I say that? What a stupid thing to say. You don't just tell people you like them. I wish you could.

"You don't have to be afraid of something like that," the dragon replies. This answer, while comforting, isn't convincing.

"I definitely do."

"You don't scare me."

"I'm not scary. I just like people a lot, but I'm not really good at showing it. I haven't had that many friends before, so I don't know how it works. I don't know how to connect with people, I don't know what I'm meant to say most of the time. Every version of myself that I've been before this very moment has been masked by some sort of complacency, some sort of veil of attempted normalcy that plagued me so deeply that I'd lost myself. And now I'm unpacking all these feelings I'd been trained to veil, and I don't know what to do with them. I'm not trying to complain or sound pathetic, it's not a self-pitying thing. I honestly like myself quite a bit, I just don't think I'm equipped for any of the situations I find myself in. I don't feel like the reality I was born into is one I can navigate so easily."

"Despite that, you've survived," says the dragon. "Though, you're kind of holding yourself back, don't you think?"

"Maybe so." I think of it just then, I think of what I have to do. It's the only way, really. Something I'd often been too stuck in my own head to ever really consider, and even on the rare occasion that I had, it didn't work out right. But the only way to find out if this time would be different is to try, and so I do. "Would you like to go sit on a rock with me somewhere?"

"A rock?"

"Yeah. Like, granite or something."

"I would love to. But um." The dragon shifts once more, this time with a bit more purpose as it leans in toward the boar. "I would still have to carry you. To get anywhere that has rocks, I mean."

"Oh." Ze hadn't really considered that, but the possibility of lounging in a dark enclosed space for a while was indeed enticing. "Yeah, that works."

"Anywhere that has rocks?"

"Anywhere that has rocks, yeah. Like a river or a forest or anything is fine, as long as we can both sit comfortably." The boar steps forward, a little cue that ze hopes might prompt the dragon, once again, to open up. Ze supposes its silly to rely on such things at this point. This, clearly, isn't someone who communicates through that muddling series of subtleties, a song and dance for which ze hadn't ever been quite able to get the footwork down, and yet would still attempt at times for the sake of acting as some sort of social chameleon.

It takes a second for the cue to click, or maybe the dragon is just unsure what to do with the near complete freedom of location. Eventually, it realizes it's time to go and opens its maw back up, and for the first time, the boar is able to see what's inside. To really see what's inside. Teal-green flesh and gums, metallic and slightly glittery in texture, accented pale minty green razor sharp teeth. A few are messy and chipped. And with that, the surface tension is broken, and the fluid of the beasts tongue engulfs hir, the wetness seeping into hir fur fully, not simply bouncing off. At first the sensation, alien and new, is unpleasant, and as ze squishes up against the beasts tongue as it closes its jaws around hir, ze shifts along the muscle and adjusts until a pattern settles. The grumbling of the great beast's throat as it lifts off. The relief of no longer teetering on that ledge as ze had so many times before. The fear that this might not last, that any expression of seeking longevity could come off as a bit too much for someone ze'd just met.

Though they hadn't just met, really, as ze recalled all the times before that the dragon had perched along that very ledge. Had it been the same one? Sometimes, probably. Not every time. This didn't really feel new, but it certainly felt more comfortable than times prior. Perhaps to credit this change to the dragon wasn't quite right. Perhaps it was hir own willingness to be vulnerable and ask the risky questions that rewarded hir with an experience that, while not new, didn't feel so scary this time. It feels stupid to admit that to myself in a way. I'd known all along that this would yield better results, so why, pray tell, was I so terrified? Why am I still so terrified?

Hir stomach drops as the beast's wings flap and it picks up speed, soaring through the endless sky, but its head stays mostly steady. And just as hir eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and the ridges along the roof of its mouth gleam a deep emerald jewel tone through the blackness, a beam of light shoots in with a gush of cold wind. The beast's teeth crack open just a bit, just enough to let the clouds enter its mouth and fill the space with dense fog, drenching hir in mist, the heat of the beast's body and the frost of the outside air swirling as one force of nature. The sensation reels through hir, and ze shudders as the beast's taste buds run along hir forearms. After it begins to run a bit cold, the teeth clack shut once again and dark warmth falls in again, that clicking sound of the sets of bones interlocking tingling in hir ears.

Something profound occurs to hir almost every day, it seems, and yet such things make progress only towards goals intangible to others. Something that lives in hir head and slams on a pane of glass and begs to be heard, but out loud it just sits there staring and waiting for an opportunity, waiting to be served something on a platter that isn't coming.

"I've known you for a long time, I think. I love you," says the boar. "I just want to tell you that, in case things go wrong somewhere down the line. I want you to know that, at least now, in this moment, I love you."

The dragon tries to respond, but finds that moving its tongue jostles the boar far too much, so it resorts simply to hugging the tiny creature with its tongue, curling each side up around hir body as a warm, wet blanket.

The silence is welcome this time.

[cantdealwiththisnow]

Part 1 - Appreciation post for all the TFP universe Autobot mugshot cameos (known and unknown) in RID2015 3x25 (even if the context is that they've been OUSTED against their will)

[autisticaradiamegido]

day 24

it is time once again for my accidental streak of Redrawing Aradiabot On Day 24. i swear i literally don't even set an alert for this or anything, it just works out like this every year. i hit january 24th and smth in my brain goes "huh what were we doing this time last year, anything good to revisit?" and i check the day 24 tag and im like OH YEAH. THE SAME DAMN ARADIABOT DRAWING I'VE DONE THE PAST HOWEVER MANY YEARS!!!

[wildfirefruitjars]

"Yet when he tried to picture her, he only saw the wife he’d killed. He had sobbed each time he struck her, and afterward carried her down to the rocks to give her to the crabs." ~A Feast For Crows, The Iron Captain.

Don't you just hate when your sex slave salt wife cheats with, and is knocked up by, your mean brother, forcing you to beat her to death? So rude!

Bonus version with shittily drawn Euron and Balon in the background:

Balon is so done with this shit

[nights-at-crystarium]

The gnc king has spoken.

[starleska]

so those of us who've been writing for and discussing the Toymaker have found it a little tricky at times to discern the Toymaker's characteristics, given how often he changes up his accent, appearance, and temperament!! so, we developed a very silly solution 🙈💖 what's more fun that arbitrary categorisation? these are the different 'facets' of the Toymaker we've noticed - or rather, the characters he plays - and the shorthand names we use for him!! each name corresponds to a particular presentation of the Toymaker, largely tied to changes in voice, appearance and personality. there are moments where these distinct characters bleed into one another! we have:

1920s German Toymaker: the playful, teasing, pseudo-German speaking Toymaker who sells Charles Bannerjee Stooky Bill, and who menacingly juggles at the Doctor and Donna. this is the Toymaker at his personal best: fully invested in his character and thriving in a toy-themed performance. 🧸

French Cabaret Toymaker: the charming, lipsticked, French-accented dancer who accosts the Doctor on the street and sways amid the mayhem of The Giggle. this is a Toymaker who revels in chaos and destruction, and who is equal parts stunning and disquieting 🕺

Marionettist Toymaker: the frightening and severe puppeteer who grows to an impossible size, pulls marionette-Charles' strings and speaks in rhyme. this Toymaker feels the most similar to the original Celestial Toymaker played by Michael Gough! although superficially similar to other Toymakers, his hair is noticeably different and his demeanour is far more sinister 🧵

Showman Toymaker: the volatile ringmaster whose emotions shift on a dime, and who seems equally torn between performance, play, and injustice. this Toymaker is marked in contrast to Marionettist and 1920s German due to the occasional appearance of his American accent, and the apparent sincerity with which he delivers his show for Donna. 🎪

British Card Dealer Toymaker: the cool, calculating cardician whose respect for the game overshadows any desire for drama. much like with Showman, little glimpses of the Toymaker's other characters peek out here, but this Toymaker has a marked seriousness about him that's only knocked by his excitement upon gaining an advantage or winning. 👑

Band Leader Toymaker: the impossible menace with a distinctly feral energy. this Toymaker is a sadist: causing wanton pain, destruction and murder and loving every moment of it. Spice Up Your Life indeed 🌹

WWI Pilot Toymaker: the furious child who refuses to lose. this Toymaker is one who has grown frustrated with those around him who won't play his games, and these frustrations make him unable to maintain his previous playful persona: instead, we see lashings of anger coupled with violence, and the notable sadism of Band Leader 👨‍✈️

(Bonus) Flat Toymaker: the loser, and the lost little boy. i will admit, this was originally because i wanted an even set 😂💖 however, there's an intriguing moment of vulnerability from the Toymaker here, when he begs the Doctor for mercy. for a moment, we get a look into that 'vastness that will never cease' beneath all of the Toymaker's pomp and frills, and we see how truly frightened he is 🎁

[bloobydabloob]

When you answered the ask asking about your art style (which is a post I keep looking back on bc what you have to say is very interesting) in one of your screenshots of you talking you mention something about how most if not all of your symbolism is self referent and I was wondering what you meant by that!

Hellloooo. I’m glad you found my ranting interesting. Here is some Dirk art I’m probably never going to finish for your troubles.

What I meant by that when talking about any symbolism in my art is that it doesn’t reference outside sources - e.g. where some art might use something like religious concepts, animals, real life events to represent ideas, I tend to use things more like colors, contrasting objects, composition. That sort of thing. So things that are inherently a part of the work itself rather than connections to the real world. If I ever do use symbolism otherwise, it’s usually comic related even still. Although I have done pieces with religious symbolism before too, haha.

I don’t know how to describe it other than “self referential” because I’m not really sure what else to classify that sort of symbolism as. Just… artistic maybe? Non literal? I couldn’t say. I think it all basically just goes along with the majority of my art nowadays being more figurative than literal. Sorry if this doesn’t explain it very well. It’s also funny to think that anyone is “Looking back” on any of my texts posts though, haha. To me I feel like I am just dumping my words on my poor followers. Surprising. Thank you for reading.

[breelandwalker]

Me: -checking my inbox after being sick all week-

Rando In My Inbox: OMG LAY OFF THE POLITICS AND STICK TO WITCHCRAFT, YOU'RE A WITCH BLOG NOT A POLITICO, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THE COMPLEXITIES OF-.....

Me, already blocking and reporting: Welp. Found the fascist trollbot. Or a straight up eejit. Either way. Byeeee.