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#I'm just digging on my old stuff

talentforlying · 2 months

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father grimaldi: forgive me, lord, for i have sinned. constantine: — understatement of the bloody century, that is. father grimaldi: the chapel is closed to the public! who are you? how did you get in here . . .? constantine: did you know vatican city has the highest per-capita crime rate of any nation state in the world? i'd have thought a touch of breaking and entering's pretty much par for the course around here.

so #1, an undeniable slay.

#2, how long do we think he was sitting in the confessional booth waiting for the guy to wake up from ellie's fake vision quest. like an hour? checking his light, practicing his Big Reveal Pose TM? he probably brought a book with him and just shoved it underneath the seat cushion when it was time to show off.

#3, knowing how intensely he studied & continues to study in order to teach himself magic at such an absurdly advanced level without any teachers to formally guide him? and how that level of dedication would absolutely carry over into researching a mark / making sure he had every corner of a confidence scheme nailed down pat? i like to imagine that the day before this meeting was spent with his severely under-caffeinated ass parked at a public library computer, squinting at articles for 'most important things to know about vatican city before you travel' or 'top 10 little-known facts about vatican city' and using the back of his boarding pass to take notes on what would be the best throwaway line to blow off all the usual questions with.

also, he probably woke up still in his travel clothes less than two hours before this scene and had to hustle to get suited up in time for his Dramatic Apparition. the demon blood was boiling so bad in that chapel that it was giving him a killer migraine. he didn't get breakfast so his stomach was growling the ENTIRE time. but all that meant was he had plenty of room to eat UP the runway and that's EXACTLY what the fuck he did.i'm

#( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS.#always torn in half between 'john is a freaky little weirdo who just Knows Things and Picks Up Vibes and it usually works for him'#and 'john is the most Normal Dude in the whole london occult scene he just works w/ magic like a grad student prepping for finals week'#and you know what? the answer is always 'Both. Both is good.'#also on the one hand i'm truly obsessed with the idea of john just?? Always having a bunch of weird trivia available w/ his eidetic memory #like he read about the apostolic palace once in a book when he was with the peace convoy and his brain latched onto it forever #and it just Happens to become convenient later on and this happens VERY often and no one ever really knows how he does it #but there is a real real charm in considering that he's still Just A Guy beneath all the layers of false confidence and mysticism #still someone who had to work to get to where he is now and who will always have to work to Maintain as well #i like the mental image of him pacing around his temporary digs with index cards and drilling all the necessary details for the scam #or him and ellie getting blasted the night before and dramatically playing out their Big Final Confrontation to iron out all the beats #you just Know they were laughing til they cried workshopping shit like 'MY OLD ADVERSARY! WE MEET AGAIN!' and 'DO YOUR WORST HELLSPAWN!'#still trying to keep straight faces the day of the fake fight while drastically improvising to try and throw each other off their game #idk!!! i always enjoy the Strange and Off-Putting things about him but all of the Really Really Human stuff is also just. so so precious #we always get to see The Myth The Legend as shaped by the errors of The Man. but especially in later years actually SEEING The Man gets rar #all this to say that for every perfectly executed and properly horrifying loom out of the shadows with a glimmer of his freaky glowing eyes #there is always at LEAST half an hour or more practicing angles + expressions + mood lighting in the mirror going on behind the scenes #and that is very very special to me!!!!#( headcanons. ) I'M JUST LIKE THE BASTARDS I'VE HATED ALL ME LIFE.#( visage. ) AND I'M A BASTARD.#sched.

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wolves-etc · 1 year

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there's something I'm noticing in this read-through of Lord of the Rings that's really intriguing me, and it's how many times the characters (aragorn, so far, while he's leading the party) say things like "we must make do without hope."

I guess because to the reader - especially the rereader, or someone who's familiar with the films - it's so clear it's going to be okay, you know? tolkien drops these bits in the middle of danger, like that merry has a scar on his forehead for the rest of his life, that nod towards the characters' futures. there's this implication of fate or a higher power steering things towards good. and maybe it's partly the genre, the age, the language, but the story feels like a myth that was already finished long ago.

and I really took to heart this years-old post describing the story as hopepunk, even if - looking back - I think I misremembered the why.

thing is, so far, "hope is a skill you can practise" thinking doesn't really work for me. It Gets Better kinds of reassurance, while probably a force for good and maybe objectively necessary, leave me shirty.

but an honest and exhausted portrayal of how sometimes you have to and can keep going with or without hope? that works. that's a thing that feels real to me. that's a thing that's good to see.

and y'know, maybe there's something to the idea of hope as an action rather than a feeling. hope as we must make do without hope for now, as pulling oneself out of the hole which is not the grave.

it's kinda touching to recognise that here.

#that said I'm personally not digging into the frodo and sam arc‚ that stuff's too painful for me.#preferring to think of aragorn needing to reassure himself or his fellow rangers this way in the past #enough times that ''hope isn't necessary‚ we can push on regardless'' becomes a sort of rallying call when needed.#there's something about ranger era aragorn (and it's hopefully not just my distaste for the monarchy)#dogged and tired and already old for a human and I have to wonder if he ever expected to just be a ranger for the rest of his life #or even feared worse.#for all that he had friends in many places I really don't think he was lying with the #''a hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship'' bit.#listen clearly I need to read more than just lotr I'm going off of vibes and extrapolation here (and projection‚ maybe‚ shhh)#lord of the rings #orig #angst tag #feeling a little weird about posting this one but I think it's worse to never talk about this stuff #and it really was good to stop at that line and think and feel a bit Known from it #but still it's a crap topic and I don't broach it lightly

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cyrsed · 1 year

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i’ve been thinking a lot recently about how the internet has affected how people relate to each other... like idk if this is an american thing specifically, but y’know how people will be like “you don’t talk about politics or religion in polite conversation”. i’m Pretty Sure it’s an american thing to not want to talk about politics but anyway i feel like that probably contributed to how incapable people (esp americans obvs, of which there are a lot) are of discussing things in a reasonable way. like it used to be that here a lot of the time people just didn’t talk about politics, and suddenly you have social media that allows people to say things that they might not otherwise have ever said out loud, but you’ve never learned how to take criticism well, or how to not take disagreement personally, or how to avoid identifying yourself with a concept to the point that a criticism of the concept feels like a criticism of your very Being.

like, before internet use grew widespread and older people started using social media, so many people could probably go their whole lives without being significantly challenged on the views they’ve been taught, so they probably never learned how to gracefully respond to their beliefs being challenged, so of course instead they respond defensively (often bc they over-identify with their beliefs, so questioning, say, the ethics of assigning legal sex at birth becomes a question of their worth as a person, bc they’ve literally never had to defend, explain, or think about their political positions), and it’s easier to dig your heels in and protect your sense of identity than it is to ask yourself “what would it mean if this was true?” “what would it mean for my world view/values if this was true?”. like, even if you end up disagreeing with whatever it is that’s challenging, being able to engage with it at all is a skill that so many people are just not taught whatsoever (myself included).

like, you get so many people who never would have interacted with one another, or would never have had an outlet to say the kinds of things that social media allows people to say and talk about (not just negative things/political things either, just in general), and you can be at least partially anonymous, or have, at least, some degree of barrier between your physical self and the people you interact with online, and then you toss in algorithms, and social media platforms like twitter that are genuinely antithetical to nuanced discussion bc of the character limit, general social norms discouraging long threads and especially long thread replies to other people, and an algorithm that has “learned” that the things that generate the most engagement are things that make people angry or upset, and you’ve created the conditions to not just not allow people to learn how to engage with other ideas in good faith, but you’re actively galvanizing them against change.

like, i just keep thinking about it lately, and how it created a whole new mode of social interaction that, in a society that actually cared to teach people about conflict resolution, critical thinking, engaging in good faith discussion, changing your mind (bc we place so much value societally on remaining the same, while changing our mind/going through phases/literally just Changing are viewed as signs of weakness, immorality, immaturity, lack of sincerity, etc.), might have avoided the types of extremism and general shittiness that we see today. like who could have predicted how the internet would shape our culture and psyches the way it has?

idk i have a lot of thoughts about this, but it’s hard to put it all into words... tl;dr: i keep thinking about how the internet has both changed how we relate to one another, And it’s revealed societal issues that already existed, but were swept under the rug, like the abject failure of american(/western?) society to give people the life skills to engage with and resolve conflict, think critically, to let go of beliefs that no longer serve us and integrate new information into our world views/belief systems without letting our ego/pride get in the way, etc.

#like i had to learn that stuff on my own at 16-17 #/learn through trial of fire on tumblr in 2010 lol #like i remember when i first started reading about/hearing about social justice issues more specifically on tumblr #and i had an initial defensive reaction to some of it #and had to realize that that defensiveness was completely due to it challenging my view of myself as a 'good person'#but if i hadn't used social media at the time i would probably not have come across these 'challenging' ideas for many more years #and i'm not perfect #i still have to check myself for those kinds of reactions #so if i had just let myself dig my heels in #i wouldn't have grown as a person at all and i would still be clinging to old beliefs that made me feel more comfortable at the time

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n0maku · 10 months

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Generated some new char designs i liked, SO I've put them up on my Artfight here and here! Come attack me at ~Nomaku :) character descriptions under cut

A human with an robotic head/mask. His 'pupils' glow, changing shape often. Amicable and oft described as eccentric, he prefers to wear clothes on the fancier/more businesslike end… yet, there always seems to be an untucked hem or rumpled collar. When possible, he tends to use an unorthodox tentacled machine to get around. - Head a striking black and white flame, this guy is an otherwise fairly average fella that likes to make music. Polite yet not devoid of humorous quips, he tends to take the unexpected in stride, weaving his way through life's troubles while he weaves his tunes.

#artfight #i'm hoping to draw more for it this year #nomakuart #nomakuposts #still have the chars i put up last artfight there too of course #probably gonna go dig up those old refs in a minute #anyway it's arfight month lads! everyone have fun drawing #anyway i don't really have that much thought put into these two - they literally don't have proper names #anyone's free to suggest some though haha it just usually takes me forever to choose names for stuff #(gently pats heads of all my left-unnamed char designs of the past)

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var-username · 10 months

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Hey so not to be dramatic but has anyone else come back to this site and rediscovered the joys the internet has? Like, I've been active recently but today because of the reddit protests, I couldn't do my mindless scrolling there. Because of that, today I've been really digging in here and there's so much??? stuff??? and it's all beautiful and funny!

Anything I've seen before feels nostalgic instead of bots reposting for internet points, and whenever I finish the stuff on my dash I just find a new blog and suddenly I'm in a whole new world! I've had this blog since August of 2014, and over those 9 years I've forgotten that the internet can be good!

So thank you all for keeping the old internet alive and well in places like this hellsite, and here's to watching it lap other social media platforms by doing absolutely nothing

#and also bless the tag system on this site holy shit #no other social media site allows you to make so many tags on a post and easily filter them #without being like instagram and restricting what types of content are allowed or favored by The Algorithm :tm:#certified var original

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luveline · 9 months

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𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you get upset when eddie's friends think you're clingy. he sets you straight with some unbridled affection. requested here. fem!reader, 2.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The diner is bustling with life and smells alike, people in their summer jackets eager to sit down and dig into a plate of greasy, fatty meats. You're just as excited, your fingers curled into Eddie's sleeve and following his lead as he weaves through a gaggle of kids playing between the bar and the booths.

"Sorry, sir," a young girl says to him, springing out of his path.

"That's okay," he says, leaning back to squint at you curiously, "Do I look like a sir?" he asks you.

Pale faced, dark-haired, the remnants of last night's eyeliner clinging to his bottom lashes, you can't say you'd look at Eddie and think, Sir. Pretty boy extraordinaire with a rather inviting smile, absolutely.

"I think so, sir," you say.

Eddie laughs at you, pressing a hand behind your shoulders to move you along. His friend Gareth waves from a booth tucked in a corner under a white sconce. Jamison sits to his left, and Margaret to his right. You feel a little skip in your pulse at the sight —they intimidate you, and you want desperately for them to like you, only you never know what to say.

"Hey," Eddie says as you approach the booth. He pushes you gently to encourage you into the seat first. "How's it going? Did we order?"

"We were waiting for you. They said we have to go up to the bar when we're ready."

"We're late, I get it. Where's Jeff?"

"He went to the bathroom, like, ten minutes ago," Jamison says with a sigh, climbing to his feet. "I'll go see if he's alright."

"He's fine. Maggie, are you coming to order?" Gareth says, getting up with him.

"Yes, finally!" she says.

The relative chaos of your arrival has you hesitating in your seat. Margaret left her purse and her jacket on the table, and Jamison his keys.

"You okay to stay here while I order?" Eddie asks.

You'd much prefer Eddie order for you, but you don't want to be sitting here by yourself if Jamison and Jeff come back before him. You won't know what to say. It won't be their fault. You'll make things awkward for everyone.

You stand up again, shedding your jacket as you do. No one's gonna steal anyone's stuff, the bar is too close. "I'll come with you."

Eddie slots your fingers together easily, grinning, "Lucky me."

His friends order first and return to the booth soon after. You and Eddie get cut by a cranky looking old lady but neither of you say anything, nowhere to be and no reason to mind. He tells you about the guitar he's been repairing at work and you listen adoringly, in love with the shape of his lips and how he says every word. He's a great storyteller.

A new friend appears once you've ordered.

"Hey, Eddie!" one of the waiters says, appearing from the kitchen with a tray of drinks and fries in hand. "Man, I've been trying to get a hold of you all week. The string on my daughter's guitar flew off, nearly blinded her in the process, would you be able to fix that for me? I'll pay you for your time."

Eddie waves it off. "It'll only take five minutes, you can drop by whenever I'm home. Why do they keep splitting like that, is she messing with the pegs?"

"She definitely is. Can I get your number? Macey washed my pants without emptying the pockets."

There's a mad scramble for a pen. You have one in your jacket because Eddie's always looking for one, but your jacket is back in the booth. You promise to make a hasty return and set off for it, glad to see Jeff's alright, standing at the table likely waiting for you and Eddie to get back rather than move your things. You like Jeff most out of everyone. With the whole group collected you know he won't drag you into conversation.

"She's a bit… much," Gareth's saying.

"How can she be a bit much? She doesn't say a lot," Maggie says.

You frown. You're the only other she.

"Not like that, just– the touching and stuff. She's always grabbing onto him like a toddler. I don't think I could stand it."

"You don't have to stand it," Jeff says. "She's Eddie's girl."

"Clearly."

"Gareth, when was the last time you got laid?" Maggie asks, flicking a hair tie at him, to his annoyance. "You're being bitter. They fucking love each other, man, it's nice."

"It is a little tiny bit too much sometimes," Jamison says.

You wince. You know it's a matter of seconds before one of them turns to see you standing there. Is it worse to turn around or to approach?

You walk up to the table just as Gareth says, "Yes! Thank you man, she's too–"

He cuts off when he sees you with a cough.

"Who?" you ask, full well knowing it's you. Honestly, you're shy but you still get mad, you kind of want him to own up and say it while you're there, and at the same time you're hoping against hope they'll lie.

Thankfully, they pretend it was about someone else.

"Nobody," Maggie says.

"Some girl at the library," Jamison says.

You lean past Jeff with as sunny an apology as you can manage to grab the pen from your jacket. "Eddie," you say by way of explanation, holding the pen up with a shrug.

You walk away quicker than you should. It's obvious you've overheard. There's a thump and a, "Nice fucking job, loser."

Eddie's deep in conversation as you offer the pen. He takes it without stopping, but he makes sure he kisses your cheek.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, okay?" you say.

"I'll be right there, sweetheart."

To get to the bathroom you have to walk past the booth again. With the hurt feeling pounding between your ears and what you suspect might be all eyes on you, you make for one of the two doors. The summer sun and the dry Hawkins heat hits you immediately, a second layering of smothering to wrap around the first. You walk around a rainbow chalk hopscotch and into the shade of the smoking shelter, hands at your collar, breathing hard.

Don't cry, you think firmly. Don't cry. They'll know if you do and that's twice as embarrassing as walking out. Imagine how embarrassed Eddie will feel if you cause a scene.

You sit on the little perch in the shelter and stare at the floor. There's nowhere to look that isn't stingingly bright, the sun in the white-blue sky glaring down on you and the sidewalk bleached a blinding ivory. You close your eyes against it. Your shoulders hunch in protectively. Your hands find their way to your face.

Like a toddler, Gareth said. You press your fingertips into your eyes, fighting against the ache. Is that true? Are you childish in how much you rely on Eddie? You take his hand and his arm, you catch onto his clothes when you're worried, you step behind him when you're overwhelmed.

"Shit," you whisper.

The breeze washing over you does little to cool you down. You must sit there for a handful of minutes, worried and nauseous.

"Hey," Eddie says gently. You flinch despite his best efforts not to startle you.

He looks tall outlined by the sun.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I just wanted some fresh air," you say.

He raises his brows slightly. "That why Gareth just apologised to me?"

You wince as he sits down. All of you wants to sag into his side, but a small voice tells you not to. You stay ramrod straight, hands pressed flat and clammy to your knees.

Eddie gives your elbow a rub. His thumb digs into soft skin and the harder suggestion of cartilage and bone before sliding up. He uses touch often to convey silent reassurement. This seems to say, I don't know what happened, but I'm here.

"I'm fine. We can go back inside," you say, attempting to fool him.

"There's no rush." His voice tips to a low, rough register. He's keyed in to your upset, no doubt about it. "It's a nice day, babe."

He gives you a minute. The small feathering of clouds skirts one edge of the horizon to the other, the shadow of the diner stretching tall as the sun lazes down. You push the worst of your feelings from your mind. It's easy to do with such an unshakeable support at your side, his fingers curling down to your forearm, vying for a hand to hold.

"I heard your friends talking about me. It wasn't all nice," you confess.

"Assholes."

You glance at his face. He has a crease between his brows.

"Well, mostly Gareth. He said that I… act like a kid. A toddler, that I'm too much, at least for him to stand. And don't get me wrong, Eds, I'm not thrilled that they were talking about me, but I guess I…" You take a short breath and look away from him. "I hate that it's true."

"You can be mad when people talk shit. I'm mad," he says. "He said you're like a toddler?" He shuffles closer to you on the bench. "Babe, it's not true, okay? You're not too much. Fuck, we're here to hang out and they can't wait ten minutes to run their mouths–"

"It wasn't like that, it was just Gareth." Gareth's always been the selfish friend.

"He doesn't get a pass for saying something shitty 'cos he's always shitty. I brought you here," —you peek at him, recognising upset in his tone even when it's the barest inkling— "knowing you didn't really want to come because you get so nervous," —he sounds pained for you— "I fucking told him to leave you alone. I said we wouldn't come around if he didn't stop being a mood killer."

You worry at your bottom lip. "Maybe that's kind of his point, Eds. You have to look out for me. You had to ask someone to be nice to me 'cos I can't handle it–"

"You don't have to handle it. The people around you should be nice to you. This isn't high school, you don't have to put up with it, and I told him that." Eddie grabs your arm with the hand that isn't tangled in yours and turns you to face him. "I'm sorry," he says, almost a murmur, "I didn't invite you today to have you humiliated."

You're feeling a little mortified by the passion of his feelings. He's mad at the wrong person, isn't he? "Why are you sorry? I'm the one who clings to you."

"I want you to." Eddie holds your eyes, brown and big and imploring you to listen, the starts of his brows sewing together. "I'm sorry because it's not fair. And because Gareth was a dick to you. And for getting mad." He smiles at you ruefully. "I'm being a dick, too."

"In what world?"

Eddie leans in slowly, giving you enough time to close your eyes as his nose bumps into yours, encouraging your head up to allow for a kiss. He kisses twice, a third time, pulling away to rub your bottom lip.

"Are you really upset?" he asks softly.

You know whatever answer you give him is one he's okay with.

"I feel so embarrassed," you say. "They knew that I overheard them. Now I feel like I'll be constantly worried about how much I'm touching you."

"Well, that's their problem. That doesn't say shit about you," Eddie says, wrinkling his nose.

"I'm really not too much?" you ask. He can likely hear how desperate you are for a kind answer, your throat burning with the effort it takes to stave off tears.

"You've never been too much. I'm the too-much one. You wouldn't even hold my hand when we first started dating, you remember that? We'd go to the movies and you'd get so flustered when I bought your ticket." Eddie's arms wrap around your waist, the breeze ruffling his sweet curls and sending gusts of his smell your way. You're a goner, dropping your face into his shoulder. "Do you remember that?" he asks again, his face slipping down to yours as he hugs you close. "The first time we went to the Hawk together, I went first, and I don't know why you thought you'd have to buy your own ticket but you got all quiet when I got yours, too. I loved that. You know what I loved even more than that?"

You smile, knowing he's going to say something lovely. "What?" you ask.

"I loved how proud you were to sit down with me. You wouldn't hold my hand but you'd put your cheek on my shoulder just like this."

Eddie rubs the tip of his nose against your temple. "I love how much you want to be near me," he says. "It's not childish, is it? If being closer to me makes you feel better, there's nothing wrong with that. Gareth's just jealous 'cos he isn't getting laid."

"That's what Maggie said." You laugh.

"Maggie's a good one. She makes Gareth bearable, kind of."

You feel the stretch of his back under your hands. Your head is pounding from the sudden rush of big emotions, your tongue dry and throat aching, but you don't have a lick of urgency to get up and go back in.

"He's such a dick," you whisper.

Eddie laughs, patting your back. "Such a fucking dick."

"I can't help being a loser and wanting to hug you so much," you say. You're joking now, but it's true all the same.

"I tempt the untemptable," he says agreeably.

You laugh and lift up a bit to hug him harder, your face pressing into his neck.

"You're not a loser," he says more seriously. "You know that, right? What Gareth said, it's not okay, but there's no accounting for idiocy." Eddie sits back on the bench, taking your forearms into his hands for some more soft massaging. "He can think whatever he likes, I'm not the government, but he was wrong, and also it's rude and, again, super shitty of him to do that here. So with your blessing I'm gonna punch him in the face."

"Nooooo," you murmur.

"Very soft no. Taking it for a yes."

"Eddie, you can't hit Gareth."

"He should watch his mouth, then."

You reach up for a second hug. You love that he prioritised how you felt, as well as how eager he is to stick up for you —how mad he is on your behalf.

"He's trying to take this away from me," Eddie says, leaning back under your weight, arms crossing behind your spine. He looks up at you like you've stolen his breath, lips parted and teeth peeking out with his smile.

"Do you really want to punch him?" you ask. You sound very fond.

"I hate that he made you feel bad about yourself. And he irritates me."

"But…"

Eddie hums like he's thinking for a moment. "No, I definitely still want to hit him."

You tuck a curl away from his cheek tenderly. "Thanks for wanting to defend my honour, Eds," you say.

"I'm on your side through everything." He looks ridiculously pretty saying such a ridiculously lovely thing. "That's how we work, right? You're on my side too?"

Your face flushes with heat. "Of course I am, baby."

"Good. Unrelated to our previous conversation, how much money do you have, roughly? In case I need financial aid in the coming days." He drops his voice to a whisper, "How much even is bail lately?"

You cup his cheek. "We can't afford it," you whisper back.

"Typical."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!♡