#This got philosophical

[misscrawfords]

Your top 5 fictional characters :)

This is from ages ago and I've been sitting on it because it is SO HARD. Only five??! How?!

So I'm going to try with massive apologies to all the many that I'm missing out and with the caveat that I'm not allowed more than one per author/show/book/film series/whatever. In no particular order:

Henry Tilney - the perfect romantic hero, proving that ice-cold and brooding is not, in fact, the way to a woman's heart

Mary Crawley - my home girl and muse, whose voice lived within me for most of my 20s

Viola Fitzgerald - my OC, who is part of my soul and I miss desperately and yes she looks like Hayley Atwell in MP. I have a mug which says "What would Viola do?" and sometimes I imagine her sitting by my side - and judging the hell out of everything I do. I need to find a way to carry her spirit forward creatively.

Odysseus - the ultimate trickster and my guy in the Classics. I'm a Classics teacher. I have to have a Classical character on here somewhere and I guess it's this bastard.

Jane Marple - providing me with gentle hope that I can stay single and be useful and appreciated and a valued member of a community surrounded by friends and family who care about me, even if I end up with no immediate family of my own. I'm so scared of that and Miss Marple gives me real inspiration and comfort.

#this got philosophical #but there are so so many others #how to choose!?

[enneamage]

Speaking as another 3w4, I’d say love and achievement are never fully separate since achievement is the means by which this type feel they become deserving of others’ love, so “presidency” (guidance, competence, control, responsibility, protection, authority, role model, moral compass) could be how Wilbur perceives he earns his place in Tommy’s life, in and out of character. Sure is curious that the finale has him leave because others DO expect him to fulfil that role and vilify him for not reaching its high standard, even for “not being there to protect them” aka killing himself. You’d expect a story like his to end with a realization that others don’t actually value him for shallow conditional reasons and see him for the human beneath, but he really *is* living in a world that detests him for suffering and only cares about him to the extent it can expect the impossible of him, so he has to leave that reality and get far away from all its inhabitants to stop beating himself up for not reaching their expectations and for all the times he crumbled under them. Is Wilbur is crumbling under the pressure of being Quirky White Boy or does he really think people view their friends like this

The DSMP really was a callous place, I won’t deny that. Lot of gamers trampling over each other, it was the fandom who rose-tinted those glasses and made a CN show out of a Rick and Morty episode /pos. If you had to learn that love exists, I wouldn’t have chosen there as the destination spot to do so.

I do generally get the sense that C!Wilbur felt the need to do something in order to earn a place in his environment. He seemed anxious about being underwhelming or irrelevant, that did turn out to be the seed of a lot of grief down the road. The question of how rational or irrational the concern was is up in the air, but it was definitely magnified by his nature; soon only positions of power seemed tolerable to him to overcome his shame and anxiety. He wouldn’t (couldn’t?) experience what was in front of him as good enough because everything was already wrapped up in the pretense of his impulses, so he felt he had to keep them up in order to hold onto what he had. He never really gave himself the chance to explore another option, and maybe that was the feeling of needing to be ‘worthy’ before he could be satisfied with what was around him.

If you put Wilbur (and his neurosis) at the center of the narrative of the world, he can be sympathetic, he even makes sense. The issue is that putting one single person at the center of the world can never be the source of a sustainable, or just, plan. Everyone is part of a natural exchange, the world is give-and-take on the micro and the macro level, and in a big network of people that matters. Most of the characters wound up afraid of the destructive road that C!Wilbur went down with his mental spiral, because he turned to mass public violence and then suicide. The latter could have been a delicate and private matter, but the former made it real personal to everyone involved, and they reserved the right to feel that the TNT was at least unnecessary.  

In this scenario, is the high standard being Tommy’s or everyone’s ‘President’? And are the characters in-universe holding him to that standard, or the audience? If I remember correctly the thing that made C!Wilbur afraid was that people didn’t give him the defference of a leader and things weren’t happening on his terms, not that the people around him were calling him to be something greater than he could be. Maybe those two things blended into being one and the same, but that connection would have been made in his head. I’m trying to figure out what the impossible standard that he can’t meet is, why he wouldn’t be able to meet it on more modest terms, and if it comes from inside or outside. It’s probably both (Input ->interpretation->narrative->output->input again) which is why it feels so inescapable.

I feel like you've discovered a thread here that I hadn't thought of before—Few people are consciously holding him to a standard of greatness, but if that's what it takes to get attention and results, they may as well be, because he finds the apathy intolerable.

There’s probably a depression reading here (the fear of sadness making one unwanted) and that’s something that Main is more willing to go into with their metas. Feeling like you have a larger need for attention and respect and love than there seems to be in the world is probably terrifying, especially if you feel like who you really are is the thing that’s keeping you from getting any.

You know that question that gets passed around by internet dwelling couples, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” For the most part it’s a meme to throw at someone to see their reaction, but it’s known to create some strangely intense conversations. The premise is goofy, because nobody is at serious risk of being hit with the wormification ray, but it has something strangely vulnerable underneath it; If I suddenly lacked all human output and was basically helpless, would you still love me? It’s a hard situation to size up, both in yourself and other people—would you still love me if I was a worm? Would I still love you if you were a worm? The caretaker instinct says ‘yes’ but how long would that last? Much to think about.

I feel like the seed of neurosis, deep down, is that he feels he is that worm. He wants to be everything except that worm, but the vulnerability is always close behind, and his instincts are wrapped around protecting it. We’ve had the Age Regressor talk here a couple of times, so sometimes he even acts like that worm, or at least tests people to see if they could handle it. In the end you’ve got to zoom out again and look at the bigger picture, harsh as it can be to the one perspective.

#I feel like this got pseudo-personal so whatever you’ve got going on I hope you get a good resolution anon #This got philosophical #loreposting #gen wlbr tag #other people seemed to tolerate c!Wilbur as a peer but c!wilbur couldn't tolerate himself as a peer #get this man some DBT

[ijustthinkhesneat]

I genuinely like to believe that Bruce’s natural state is Brucie. His resting persona. I think Bruce is smart don’t get me wrong, but you can be smart and ditzy. My citation is Legally Blonde.

I think the Batman persona for him is ultimately a flexing of the mental muscles. Like he read one article on how to be a serious adult and was like I’m gonna do that at 9000%.

I believe that after Jason died is when Batman stopped being the mask, at least for a while. And yeah trauma, dead kid. But it’s also because Bruce was in the reverse position to when his parents were murdered. He was the parent who outlived his child. So he couldn’t afford to not be on edge, the vulnerability it takes to be silly and mess wasn’t going to keep his other son safe. It wouldn’t keep Dick or Tim or Damian safe.

I think if they steered back to Bruce learning to be vulnerable around his friends and especially around his family the comics could be so much better and set the base for many more stories that weren’t a repeat of the same cycle of abuse. It feels like the comics have been hell bent on breaking these characters for so long. Chipping them down to the worst, darkest parts of themselves. And that’s fine. But the writers don’t know when to stop. They can’t see that there is nothing left to break anymore.

#DC Comics #batsalt #batman #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #dc batman #tim drake #nightwing #red hood #Woo that got way more philosophical than I wanted it to #I feel like this isn’t just a DC comics thing #So many businesses seem to not know when their stories have reached a narrative dead end #and instead of rewinding to find where they went wrong they just keep digging the hole #like when will corporate story tellers realize that fighting their fans is only gonna scream them in the end?

[deliciousmicroplastics]

izutsumi has the right attitude when faced with saving her entire party herself

#(she then proceeds to make the infamous succubus milk) #izutsumi #dungeon meshi #ngl i got emotional during this part #waxing philosophical #food m

[strqyr]

...oh. yang has a literal hair trigger.

years of trying to think of reasons why yang feels so strongly about her hair, and it's a fucking pun for her short temper. goddammit.

#rwby #yang xiao long #sitting like a philosopher here #like damn #they got me there

[fearforthestorm]

okay so. plates.

there's a post floating around on here somewhere about a ceramics class where half the students were instructed to make as many pots as possible no matter the quality, and the other half were instructed to make only one high-quality pot. by the end of the class, the students who had made lots of pots were making better pots than the ones who were supposed to make one perfect pot, and the lesson there was that you get better at things by making more things and letting yourself be bad at it, rather than trying to make one perfect thing.

you have to make shitty things because you have to make things, because making things at all is more important than making good things, because making shitty things is how you make better things.

a friend made the joke that "maybe not THAT shitty though, like that's not even a shitty pot anymore that's just a plate," and while i kind of agree (that's a whole different post), i also immediately went another layer deep with the metaphor: even if it's not a pot, a plate will still teach you things. a plate has its own purpose, independent of a pot - it's job isn't to be a pot, it's not going to teach you the same things that a pot would, but it has a purpose too. just because it's not what you wanted to make or meant to make doesn't mean it's not useful! nothing made is ever wasted.

#.lyr #exactly two people have the full context of the conversation that got me thinking about this #sorry our jokey conversations on late night vc got me thinking about what it means to create. yeah its all philosophical now. sorry :/ #(/j) #idk i just have a lot of thoughts ab what it means to make things. to be someone who makes things. #no creation is ever wasted actually. yeah even the really shitty ones that are actually plates. #and if youre still making stuff? youre doing really really good. doesnt matter if its plates or pots or anything else. #youre making things. thats the important part.

[rotisseries]

I'm bursting at the seams to talk about mike to anyone who will listen, but I feel exhausted just at the thought of explaining will

#mike wheeler #will byers #byler #stranger things #st4 #stranger things 4 #it's like at this point if you need detailed analysis on will you've got more problems than I can fix y'know? #explaing mike's queercoding to someone feels like you're socrates gifting the youth of athens with philosophical enlightenment #whereas being asked to explain why will is gay feels like you've spent the past 10 minutes #explaining something that someone should ALREADY understand #AND THEN you realize they weren't paying any attention and you've got to repeat literally everything #anyway this is a little bit related to my post from a few days ago about me rambling to my friend about mike #bc I know if she'd said ''explain will'' i'd've been like ''in the nicest way possible are you fucking blind?''

[spikezonebby]

hi !! saw requests for song fics are open, may I request something angsty with fem!human!reader x megatron (idw) to ‘young and beautiful’ by lana del rey ? 🥹 <3 thank you in advancee

Young and Beautiful (IDW Megatron x Fem!Human!reader)

Word count: 1,070

Eighty years. Humans lived for a measly eighty years.

You change right before Megatron’s optics. Your hair grays, your skin sags, your bones grow thinner. Like the very universe was sapping you away from him. Vector Prime alone could grant him all the time he needed to write a poem about all of the moments he lived with you.

But how could he begin to write when every time he picked up his stylus, you were that much further from him? He longed to capture the feeling of you and immortalize it in a data pad, but then you’d touch your tiny, soft servo along his gray bottom lip plate and take him away. Remind him that you were his moment. Here for a second, gone in a blink.

You flare, you flicker, you fade.

You asked him once, if he’d love you even after you weren’t so soft. You weren’t so pretty. And your mind wasn’t as intact as it once was.

Megatron’s answer was immediate.

“Even once the spark of your life extinguishes, and I won’t stop even for a klik after.”

You may have lamented the way time and age changed you, but Megatron learns to see unique beauty in it. There was something beautiful in a life lived so long that you COULD age, it was a promise of peace and resilience. You lived, you fought, you came back again and again. A force so strong that it took time itself to put you down.

Megatron thought that was romantic. Not in the way of kisses in summer or dancing in the moonlight, but the cosmic way. In the way that atoms and space dust collect together and become new stars, or how he realizes, in the grand scheme of things, so, so many tiny and nearly impossible things had to happen for you to be his.

As you grew older, you grew more rapt by his poetry. You blamed it on growing old and sentimental, he argued you were always sentimental. You had always found it fascinating, but Megatron believed that perhaps you took some comfort in it.

“Do you think, because I love you… I’ll be there in the Afterspark waiting for you?”

You were resting against his neck cables, curled up between his shoulder armor and helm vents like a tiny glitch mouse. The ardent heat of energon pulsing up the lines of his throat felt good and helped soothe some of the arthritis in your hands. He had to rest his chin on his servo, propping his helm up at an angle to keep from squishing you, but he hadn’t the spark to stop you.

It’s a question that he’d pondered many times. For he who often pondered the nature of all things grand, the question of life after death was a philosophist’s energon and mineral tablets. 

“You do not have a spark,” He points out, shifting his helm minutely to a position slightly more comfortable for you to tuck yourself under, “So I would not expect you to be held to the same rules and expectations of Primus.”

“But, your God is real.” You raise as a counterpoint, “Any proof that various human gods are real could be considered dubious at best.”

“That is a point for the high queries of gods, but what of your lack-there-of spark?”

“What is a spark but life?” You offer, gesturing with your hands and making the round shape of a spark before your breast. Megatron loathed to move you from your warm perch, so instead he tips the data pad in his servo so he can see your tiny reflection. You look comfortable, hidden securely in his collar fairings. “Perhaps I DO have a spark, but it’s simply just a different form. After all, energy cannot be destroyed. It merely changes form.”

You chuckle, knocking your knuckles against his neck cables. “Julius Robert Mayer.”

“A human philosopher?” Megatron asks, setting his datapad aside to instead settle for reaching up and touching his digit to your lap. You take the hint immediately, and hold his huge digit between your two itty bitty hands. 

“Founder of the laws of energy conservation. Suppose most of us are philosophers in some way, though.”

You have to be, with lives so short and bright. Megatron keeps that thought private to himself, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. You were feeling thinner and thinner these days. He hoped you ate well enough.

“So, what have we come to the conclusion of in this conversation?” You prompt, bringing back your point, “That there is no true way to say I do not have a spark, and that it’s ultimately far more likely that Primus and his Afterspark wait for me than say… The Christian or Hebrew concept of God.”

“For there are too many to count.”

“For there are too many to count.” You agree, “But it is the most commonly applicable and the most similar to Primus.”

“But,” Megatron clicks his glossa, a smile coming to his face. He loved it so  when he could have these in-depth conversations with you. “That is also dismissing that humanity is a much younger culture than Cybertron was. Perhaps you will find proof that these things are indeed true, or perhaps something you had not even considered. Perhaps in the afterlife, you will have a veritable plethora of ‘heavens’ to choose from.”

“Then I’d choose to wait for you.” You say, “Or I’d choose some religion where I’d be reborn and I could fall in love with you again.”

“You could live again, redo all of the things you had missed. Unmake all of your mistakes.”

“You talk as if I considered you a mistake.”

He feels your tiny, cool lips press to the pulsing line of energon that is connected directly to his spark chamber. You laugh, giddy and sounding just as young as you were when he first met you. There’s a well of emotion there in his chest and, if not for millions of years of carefully cultivated control, he might have sobbed.

Instead, he settles for curling the whole of his huge, warm servo against your body, and recording this moment for all of time. The moment he writes on his spark that you wanted to be his in any life.

“I suppose it is not a mistake then, if you do not regret it.”

#transformers #mtmte transformers #idw transformers #idw megatron #reader insert #megatron x reader #request fill #song fic #Thank you for requesting!! #this got a lot more philosophical than i expected tbh

[cavarage]

10 FILMS FOR AUTUMN 🎃🍂

Coraline (2009), dir. Henry Selick

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (2001), dir. Chris Columbus

Julie & Julia (2009), dir. Nora Ephron

Corpse Bride (2005), dir. Tim Burton, Mike Johnson

Little Women (2019), dir. Greta Gerwig

Ghostbusters (1984), dir. Ivan Reitman

El Laberinto Del Fauno (2006), dir. Guillermo Del Toro

You've Got Mail (1998), dir. Nora Ephron

Knives Out (2019), dir. Rian Johnson

Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain (2001), dir. Jean-Pierre Jeunet

#autumn #filmedit #moviegifs #filmgifs #coraline #harry potter and the philosopher's stone #julie & julia #corpse bride #little women #ghostbusters #pan's labyrinth #el laberinto del fauno #knives out #amélie #le fabuleux destin d'amélie poulain #you've got mail #halloween #mine #* #my gifs

[hylaversicolor]

peace of mind was not meant for me

#scribble #mgs #the boss #the sorrow #sigint #big boss #anyway hm #thinking about joy being absolutely batshit in her 20s getting her entire family taken away by the philosophers and declaring her revenge #IGNORE THE FACT THAT I GOT THE NOTHING LEFT INSIDE ME QUOTE WRONG. #my favorite quote in the entire series. and i misremembered it #: D #in my defense usually by the time i get to that quote i am sobbing too uncontrollably to pay ATTENTION to waht is going on #ok i'm going to stop retroactively adding tags to this lol

[the-anime-man]

Hey just a trigger warning for the latest episode of game changer that there's existential horror, analog horror, unreality and multiple auditory and visual glitches for those it affects, especially towards the latter half of the episode

#game changer #i got into the show last week and i was like i really dont wanna spend 6 dollars to continue watching this shit #and then i spent 6 dollars to continue watching this shit #and now im gonna be thinking about deja vu for the rest of all time #really though big warning on those in particular #also hi game changer fans watch the quarentine episode if you havent already cuz those are very fucking good #so far ive only seen jeopardy and tell us about yourself and the twists for those?? 👌 chefs kiss perfect #wtf do they got cookin up at dropout dot tv i really gotta know #i'm philosophical #(thats my text post tag dont worry about it)

[siriusblack-the-third]

Hey I absolutely adore your Indian James headcanons can you do some for Harry too please <33

Okay this got too long so it's only Harry's first year at Hogwarts. At some point I might do the rest of his years but yeah. Here you go, i hope you like it :)

The first time Harry noticed his skin was darker than the people on Privet Drive was when he was four. The first time he noticed people sneered at him for it was when he was five and a half. He didn't understand it; why did they think the colour of his skin meant that he was inferior to them? He heard the words chee-chee and brownie thrown around like Dudley threw his food, and quietly pulled his shirt tighter around himself.

When Harry is eight, Dudley and his gang throw him in a ditch and throw dirt and soil on him till he's coughing and tears are running down his face. "You blend right into the mud," Piers laughs at him. The next day, the boy turns up to school with black skin. Harry sits in the corner and turns his face away, a secret grin playing on his lips.

He comes to Hogwarts, and there are so many colours. He is approached by Parvati on the second night, and she asks him if he's excited for Ganpati Chaturthi. He stares at her, and then says, "I'm sorry, but I don't know what that is." She gets offended, but they haltingly talk it out, awkward and stilted like most eleven year olds. When she realises that he's been kept from his heritage and his magic, she flies off the rails with anger. "That's it," she says, "we're friends now. No arguments."

Harry loves talking to Parvati. She's the one that tells him his father was from India. She's the one that tells him the names of his grandparents, that tells him of the importance of heritage in the magical world. They talk about religion and food and all sorts of things, and within two weeks Harry is asking her to teach him Marathi. It's hard at first; the grammar structure is more like French than English, the alphabet sequence is weird and complicated and has too many letters, but he keeps practising his svar and vyanjana and kana and matra. He will do this, he tells himself. (He doesn't tell Ron. He wants this for himself, he thinks. His family, his heritage. He wants to learn before he shares, and so he doesn't tell Ron. For now. He will, when he knows enough.)

Slowly, he starts talking to other Indian kids at Hogwarts. Padma, a seventh year Slytherin named Aarzoo who's Muslim and always has the prettiest hijabs, Gryffindor Kalyani from fourth year and Hufflepuff Rushabh from the third. Kalyani is from Maharashtra just like the Patil twins and Harry, Rushabh is from Gujarat and Aarzoo from Punjab. Harry finds it fascinating that India has so many different cultures and religions, and demands knowledge from them. Aarzoo laughs, and tells him he should have been with the 'Claws.

Harry disagrees. He was supposed to be in Slytherin, he knows, but he is in Gryffindor, where his family had been. His family had been Indian. He wants to know everything about it. If he couldn't have his parents, he would have that which had been a major part of his father's life. And so he reads and observes and studies and asks questions— hesitating at first in case they yell at him (Aunt Petunia hated questions and he feared these people would be the same), but slowly he asks more and more. He talks for hours with Kalyani and Rushabh, and they tell him about Garba and Dhol Tasha, Ganpati Chaturthi and Diwali, Eid and Gudi Padwa. They talk about the languages of India, and Harry immediately asks Aarzoo to teach him Urdu and Hindi. She laughs, and says he should focus on Marathi first. He pouts, but nods.

The Mirror of Erised shows him his father, and he can't take his eyes off. James Potter is a tall man, bulky frame covered in muscles and warm brown skin that seems to glow with happiness. His eyes are light brown, and the bold black lines drawn under them make the green specks stand out. He's dressed in what Harry knows is called a kurta, white and gold threads woven to form images of peacocks and elephants and other intricate designs. The next day, Harry asks Padma what she lines her eyes with, and she promptly hands him a little round metal box and a tiny wooden stick. "It's called kajal." She tells him the differences in pronunciation between Hindi and Marathi, and shows him how to apply it. Harry wears it everyday. It makes his eyes look bright, brighter than they already are, and he falls in love with it. Kalyani presses a kajal covered finger behind his ear every morning. "For good luck," she tells him, a grin playing on her pretty lips. Harry flushes, and smiles back shyly.

For Christmas, Aarzoo gives him perfume. It's chandan and mogra with hints of rose, she says, "and your grandfather made it. His name was Fleamont Henry Potter, and he was an exceptionally talented potioneer." Harry wears it religiously. Padma and Parvati band together and get him books on the Potter family and their historical importance, and he almost cries. Rushabh promises to teach him how to play Garba, and Kalyani gives him a cookbook for everyday Indian foods— breakfast and lunch and a few fancy stuff. Harry hugs it to his chest and thanks her with shining eyes. (he may have a bit of a crush on her. He can't help it— she's really smart, and she's pretty.)

Throughout the year, all of them work to introduce him to Indian food. At first, he thinks it will be easy. It is not. There is no such cuisine named Indian, Parvati tells him sternly. There is Punjabi, South Indian, Mughlai, Maharashtrian, North Indian, Bihari, Bengali and so many more. "The food in India changes with every twenty kilometres of travel," Aarzoo says when he mock complains about it. "It's never the same, and that's what makes it so special." He agrees.

The end of the year arrives, and Harry is still weak from his tryst down the trapdoor. When Ron and Hermione aren't present, his friends from home (because that's what India is, isn't it? His home. The home he never got to see, but is no less a part of him.) crowd around his hospital bed and have long talks with him, filled with banter and laughter. His Marathi is so much better now than it was in September, and he blushes when Kalyani compliments him on it. Rushabh winks at him, and Harry throws a pillow at him, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks at being caught out.

On the last day of school, he hugs Aarzoo around the waist and cries into her stomach. It's the first time he calls her "Aarzoo Tai", and she smiles widely, her own eyes dripping tears. "You will write," she says sternly, "okay? This might be the end of my Hogwarts years, but you are my little brother." He cries harder and nods, refuses to let go until the very last minute.

Harry goes back to Privet Drive with a heavy heart and a proud smile. He isn't inferior to the people there, he knows. He's special. He's Indian. He's James Potter's son, and he's going to live up to it.

#harry potter #desi harry potter #indian harry potter #desi james potter #desi potters #a fuck ton of OCs #the golden trio #harry potter headcanon #harry potter and the Philosopher's Stone #kid harry potter #headcanon #this got so long holy fuck

[strangerwinden]

#baby pics

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone Behind the Scenes (October 2000)

#hpedit #hpcastedit #ewatsonedit #mediagifs #userbbelcher #underbetelgeuse #filmgifs #filmedit #hermione granger #emma watson #harry potter #philosopher's stone #my edit #*mygifs #2000s #hp cast #film #gifs #been wanting to remake some gifs from my defunct sideblogs #never got around to it #also had no idea what to tag #haven't been in the fandom for so long now #have no idea which blogs are still around #these are kinda terrible #but oh well #difficult to colour & sharpen cuz the original vid is set on auto white balance

[lambhouse]

i don't usually revisit old drawings but i really wanted to try my hand at a more painterly version of this one and i'm overall happy with how it turned out! the brush i used was kinda finicky -- i think it had tilt enabled by default and my tablet doesn't support tilt mechanics -- but i got it to cooperate, somewhat.

#kinnporsche the series #kpts #vegaspete #guess whos been down in the dumps lately!! THATS RIGHT ITS ME #to quote the great contemporary philosopher noel miller: my 9-to-5 got me tied down like im possessed

[cemeterything]

How do you feel about the fact that whenever you make a silly, low-efford post it gets millions of likes and reblogs, bit whenever you try to post something more seriois and philosophical it flops? I've notices this trend with you posts

i honestly dont think about it i just say stuff and if people like it that's cool and makes me very happy and if they don't it's just words on the internet that nobody is obligated to read or enjoy so i just. get over it and carry on. like this is an insecurity i just don't have so i'm surprised you felt the need to point it out.

#also ive literally made 'serious philosophical posts' that got lots of notes #despite me not expecting them to. so like. what are you talking about. #im not even upset or mad this is just an odd thing to say

[scratching92]

So I mentioned this on the discord, but I was looking up possible inspirations for the name SUMMUM as a name for a decorp group (apparently it was actually a backer suggestion that was also the name of a server for a while? Anyway,) and one of the first results I came across was this wikipedia page for a... religion? Cult? Tax evasion scheme? (admittedly those things have a fair bit of overlap) that was led by a guy who went by the name, and this is not a joke, "Summum Bonum Amon Ra".

I just absolutely lost it imagining some dude who's, like, really into decorp, but it's Okay Actually, Because I'm Actually RA. Like, some guy who either claims to be some manifestation of RA or will eventually join with RA, which is why he needs to - and is perfectly okay to - break the First Contact Accords. I doubt this is what the backer who came up with the name ever possibly intended, but it's pretty funny.

#Lancer RPG #Incidentally the guy was mummified following his death #The mummification is apparently how they got a religious exemption for tax reasons #They also apparently measure their number of members in how many bottles of wine they gave out #I think if I was to ever use SUMMUM in a campaign I'd look more towards philosophical influences for research #but this was a good chuckle