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zoesblogsposts · 3 months

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o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

#second language #language #learning #rory gilmore #smart #tips

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catindabag · 11 months

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TBOSAS on Crack ✨Character Info✨😌 (part 1)

⭐️❄️⭐️

For those who don’t know about my TBOSAS on Crack Alternative Universe, all you have to do is read [this] first to catch up. AND Part 2 is [here].

As for those who already read all my short takes before, here are some character ✨FACTS✨ about our favorite delinquents Mentors that are considered “Canon” in this joke!AU.

So let’s start with our ✨MAIN PROTAGONISTS✨ (AKA: Our four main idiot Mentors)

Coriolanus “Coryo” Snow ❄️ (AKA: The Poor Malnourish Looking Cabbage Boy From Corso)

Coryo knows 500+ different ways to cook cabbages and lima beans because of his irreversible childhood (war) traumas.

He secretly likes to trade his cabbages and beans at the Capitol Black Market for banned music albums that were produced centuries ago.

His favorite banned song is ✨Snow On The Beach✨😍!

Gardening, singing, sewing (because of Tigris), and surprisingly cooking are his favorite hobbies.

Drunk or not, Dean Casca Highbottom calls him ✨Crassus Xanthos Snow✨ no matter the occasion. However, it became a serious problem when Drunk!Casca literally thinks Coryo is Crassus (AKA: Highbottom’s former lover, drinking buddy, bestie boyfriend, & karaoke pal).

His favorite food is “whatever pie Ma Plinth bakes” for the Mentors that day. But the Plinth Apple Pie is the best pie.

He always likes it when Sejanus brings him extra sandwiches made by Ma Plinth.

Coryo and Sejanus were once the ✨Sandwich Duo✨ of their class. However, when Festus Creed joined and became their ✨Class Rep✨, he decided to rename them as the ✨Sandwich Trio✨.

Snow has a weird tendency to blame his broken bicycle every time he gets injured. Annoyingly, Sejanus has the same problem, but with a few extra steps.

He secretly wants to major in ✨Arts & Theatre✨ along with Felix Ravinstill, Gaius Breen, Juno Phipps, and Arachne Crane.

He once wanted to run for the position of ✨Class President✨. However, he and the rest of his classmates decided to vote for poor sensitive Felix because they just wanted to see another Ravinstill become the ✨President✨ of something.

Coryo can’t pass his physical examination no matter how hard he tries. According to the doctor, he’s just naturally thin and malnourish looking. In other words, he can’t become a Peacekeeper (much to Dean Highbottom’s frustration).🤣

He strongly believes that the Hunger Games could have been better and more popular if they recreated it into a ✨talent show✨ with a “no killing, no gore, no cannibalism” policy.

“HGASC” (The Hunger Games: Annual Singing Contest) was based on his stupid talent show idea in order to finally end the original version of the games. And also because he really wanted to win the Plinth Prize with his new best friend, Lucy Gray.

Coryo was the one who convinced the other Mentors to write and present their crazy paper proposal that will forever change the original concept of the games. And because everyone (even the Tributes) really wanted to shut up Livia Cardew and her stupid ✨Love Island✨ idea.

He is regrettably aware of his dead father’s past “affairs” with Dean Highbottom, especially the #Crasca4Ever ship that died years ago when Crassus married someone else not named Highbottom.

He once avoided getting a demerit and an expulsion letter from a very drunk Dean Highbottom by pretending to be the ghost of Crassus Snow.

He got hoodwinked (& borderline blackmailed) into seriously dating and marrying Sejanus after graduation by a scheming Strabo Plinth.

His crazy Grandma’am and cousin Tigris were quite thrilled to learn that their sweet Cabbage Boy will marry into money. And also because they won’t have to live in poverty anymore.

Coryo may deny it, but he actually came to genuinely love Sejanus & the rest of the SnowPlinth Fan Club. Their crazy ship even became the No. 1 trending news in all of Panem after their shameless stunt inside the Capitol Arena.

He accidentally and unknowingly made Strabo Plinth and Casca Highbottom mortal enemies, just because of their past romantic relationship with Crassus Snow.

His scheming grandmother is closely working with Strabo Plinth to secretly rule all of Panem under the ✨Plinth-Snow Dynasty✨😈.

He literally ✨gaslit✨ and ✨girlbossed✨ himself to become the next ✨First Lady of Panem✨ because of Sejanus.

Coryo only sees and considers Lucy Gray Baird as a good friend who likes music and nothing more. And because he was already apparently dating Sejanus Plinth.

He persuaded Lucy Gray to sing a duet version of ✨We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together✨ on the Lucky Flickerman LIVE TV Interview instead of whatever song she wrote for Billy Taupe. And yes, it was an outstanding performance and everybody loved it, except for Sejanus.

He really hates cannibalism and cannibals because of his war trauma, except for Persephone Price, just because she’s the girlfriend of Festus Creed.

Sejanus “Sej” Plinth 🥪 (AKA: The Very Rich Idiot Heir of Strabo Plinth)

He once bought a truck load of cabbages for Coryo’s family in order to impress him. Tigris was the only Snow who was genuinely happy that day. Meanwhile, Coryo fainted because of the smell.

The only reason why Sejanus learned to use a gun was because of his obsession to protect his beloved Coryo from future potential boyfriend stealing admirers.

Drunk!Casca Highbottom mistakenly calls him “Syllabus Plinth” than “Sejanus” every class roll call. Surprisingly, Sejanus never bothered correcting the Dean’s drunken mistake, because it might as well insult Strabo’s naming skills.

He got the most obvious humongous shameless crush on Coryo Snow since the day they first met. He also claimed that it was ✨love at first sight✨ after offering Coryo some gumdrops.

He is undeniably the richest student in The Academy next to Felix Ravinstill and Livia Cardew.

He almost persuaded his father to buy the penthouse next to the Snows (in order to live closer to Coryo). Luckily, Coryo begged him not to do such a thing because Arachne Crane’s family lives there (and because Arachne begged Coryo to talk Sejanus out of it).

He always brings an extra sandwich bag for his beloved Coryo to share with his friends. However, after meeting and befriending Festus Creed, he needs to at least bring a body bag full of sandwiches.

His favorite banned song is ✨Jenny, I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship✨😘.

Baking, bread throwing, and stalking Coryo are his favorite hobbies.

Not surprisingly, he was the first one who pursued and persuaded (hoodwinked) Coryo to become his official lover and fiancé. Strabo Plinth was even impressed that his idiot son “captured” a Snow.

He and Lysistrata Vickers were the ones who popularized and monetized the ✨Snowjanus✨ ship at The Academy.

Him and Dean Highbottom have an ongoing “shipping” rivalry, because Drunk!Casca genuinely thinks that Sejanus stole his lover (Crassus) from him. But to be fair, the Dean also hates Strabo Plinth for having a past romantic relationship with Coryo’s very dead dad.

He knows that his father, Strabo Plinth is secretly scheming with Coryo’s grandmother to rule all of Panem through the Plinth-Snow Dynasty. However, he doesn’t really care as long as his beloved Coryo is happily married to him.

Sejanus was actually the one who secretly locked Urban Canville in a bathroom stall to help Festus Creed win the ✨Class Representative✨ position.

He and Festus Creed are considered as the two greatest idiots of their class.

He once brought a rabid raccoon to Dr. Gaul’s class in order to scare her off. Unfortunately, it did not. Moreover, he actually impressed the insane woman instead.

In the Lucky Flickerman LIVE TV interview, he taunted and challenged Marcus into a ✨Dance Battle✨ to get sponsors.

He honestly got jealous of Lucy Gray and wanted to push her out of the way when Lysistrata told him that his beloved Coryo will sing a banned song with the weird Covey girl.

He strongly believes that the Hunger Games could have been recreated into a “Bake Off” between the Districts with a “no killing” policy.

He was the one who proposed the ✨Hunger Games: The Great Panem Bake Off✨ idea to the Board Officials and almost won their votes. He only got outvoted by Coryo’s ✨talent show✨ proposal because Marcus kept on complaining that half of the Tributes don’t even know how to bake a cake to save themselves.

His old dream/goal was for him to become a medic or doctor, but after officially dating Coryo, his new dream is to be the future ✨President of Panem✨

Lysistrata “Lizzie” Vickers 💊 (AKA: The Academy’s Secret Drug Smuggling Doctor)

She always uses the “My parents are famous doctors! I can do whatever I want!” card to get away with anything.

She is the Founder and President of the famous ✨SnowPlinth Fan Club✨ at The Academy.

Her classmates (except Palmyra Monty) always take her medical advice seriously. Even Livia Cardew can’t deny The Great Lizzie Vickers when it comes to health issues.

Felix Ravinstill teases her to become his personal physician in the future, since her parents are already working under his family.

Her dream/goal is to become the official physician of future President Sejanus and First Lady Coriolanus.😌💅

She and Sejanus were the ones who spread the ✨SnowPlinth✨ epidemic at The Academy.

Drunk!Casca Highbottom mistakenly calls her “Listerina Listerine Vickers” than “Lysistrata” every class roll call. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t really care.

Her favorite banned song is ✨Bleeding Love✨.

Lizzie and Felix Ravinstill are considered to be the most responsible and well-prepared people out of their class.

Cooking, reading, and “Drug Experimenting” are her favorite hobbies.

She once attended President Ravinstill’s Winter Palace Party and stole all of the dessert spoons without anyone knowing. Afterwards, she sold them at the Capitol Black Market for some extra cash.

She was the one who proposed the idea that the Mentors should just play dumb in Dr. Gaul’s class in order to avoid her creepy grooming tendencies. Her idea eventually worked. However, Dr. Gaul now passionately hates them equally.

She likes to bring illegally manufactured drugs (AKA: ✨Miracle Pills✨) to school in the name of science.😈

At the zoo, she illegally smuggled the infamous “all-cure” ✨Miracle Pills✨ for Felix Ravinstill and Dennis Fling, just because their Tributes were sick and dying from respiratory related illnesses.

In the Lucky Flickerman LIVE TV Interview, She and Jessup performed an 80s aerobics dance routine. And yes, she got Jessup to wear tight spandex, lycra, and flexatards.

She is secretly a crybaby and would easily tear up if she sees an injured stray cat, but only Sejanus, Coryo, and Festus knows about that fact.

Lizzie is part of the Dean’s infamous list of students who would most likely become criminals if they weren’t rich AF. The only other Mentors who outranked her in that list are Sejanus Plinth (for stealing Casca’s boyfriend), Coryo Snow (for emptying the school’s food pantry), Androcles Anderson (for being a professional kleptomaniac), Dennis Fling (for smuggling and trading illegal “goods” at school), Iphigenia Moss (for slowly depleting the class funds to buy expensive makeup), and Palmyra Monty (for almost killing everyone at school with her family’s infamous deadly apple pies).

She supports Festus’ crazy idea to recreate the Hunger Games into a cooking show with a “no killing” policy.

Much to Lizzie’s surprise, Jessup (from District 12) was the only Tribute who rejected Festus Creed’s cooking show proposal, just because he can’t cook to save his pride, especially on LIVE TV.

Festus “Fest” Creed 🍔 (AKA: The Original Dumpster-Diving Idiot Foodie of The Capitol)

He likes to collect free food coupons for fun. And sometimes, he, along with Coryo and Pup would even shamelessly dumpster-dive for them after school.

He was originally the only idiot of the class, until Sejanus and him became good friends thanks to Coryo Snow’s involvement.

Eating, sleeping, and dumpster-diving are his favorite hobbies.

His favorite banned song is ✨We Can’t Stop✨🥳.

The Peacekeepers once warned him not to dumpster-dive (again) for garbage, just because his peculiar activities greatly disturbed his neighbors. However, he threatened them back by using Felix Ravinstill’s ✨nepotism✨ and family connections.😂

Everyone believes that he will eventually fail Dr. Gaul’s class, just because of how naturally stupid he acts around her.

He once told Professor Click that he lost his very important assignment through a double bike accident with Coryo Snow. However, nobody believed his weak and stupid excuse because he doesn’t even know how to ride a freaking bicycle.

He has the most obvious humongous crush on Persephone Price since they entered The Academy together. Moreover, he doesn’t really care about the “Maid Stew” rumors because “food is food” according to the Creed house words.

He will literally support and even fund the presidential campaign of Sejanus and Coryo, just because he wants to eat Ma Plinth’s divine cooking.

Drunk!Casca Highbottom mistakenly calls him “Fetus Creed” than “Festus” every class roll. He tried to correct the Dean, but Highbottom won every argument by blaming the Creeds for giving their son a stupid name.

In the Lucky Flickerman LIVE TV Interview, He begged Coral to do a mixed martial arts routine with him as her partner. Coral eventually agreed after watching a “Cobra Kai” banned video clip from his phone. They even wore the Cobra Kai uniform (made by Tigris) to impress the audience.

He likes to give a ✨Surprise Festus Bear Hug✨ to his fellow unsuspecting Mentors. Everyone (but Livia Cardew🙄💅) is fine with his hugging shenanigans.

He truly believes that a ✨competitive cooking show✨ on LIVE TV is better than Highbottom’s “killer kids game” because it will eventually revolutionize Panem’s food industry.

He confidently proposed and defended his ✨Hunger Games: TOP CHEF✨ idea (with a “no killing” policy) to the Board Officials. In the end, he came in third after Coryo’s and Sejanus’ proposals.

He also proposed another idea called ✨The Hunger Games: Keeping Up With The Ravinstills✨ much to everyone’s amusement.

Basically, his second proposal will follow the crazy luxurious life of the current President’s family members and make them more dramatic for all of Panem to enjoy. Meanwhile, Felix was seen sweating and quaking on his seat when he heard that Creed’s second crazy idea almost won by a small margin.

He tried to learn how to somersault with Coral as his instructor, but failed and almost broke his back. Surprisingly, he doesn’t regret the experience after seeing Coral and Mizzen laughing and choking on their own salivas after the incident.

Festus has collected more damaging secrets from his classmates than Livia Cardew and Arachne Crane could ever imagine. However, he doesn’t know how to use them for blackmail purposes.

He only won the position of ✨Class Representative✨ because Sejanus deliberately locked Urban Canville in a bathroom stall.

He is aware that he answers questions without thinking too much of it. Heck! He once stupidly proposed to make The Academy the new Hunger Games Capitol Arena (as a joke) after the failed bomb explosion incident. Dr. Gaul and Dean Highbottom very much wanted to strangle him that day.

Dean Highbottom regrettably gave up on officially expelling Festus from The Academy, just because no matter how many times the Creed kid received a demerit for breaking the rules, he still has the audacity to show up and attend his classes like nothing happened.

He will eventually challenge Tigris Snow to an epic dance battle in order to secure his position as the official ✨Best Man✨ at Coryo and Seji’s royal wedding.

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violettduchess · 1 year

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A/N: This is a joint effort by myself and @thewitchofbooks who I reached out to after falling for her beautiful art. A gifted creator and a super Gilbert fan? Perfect 💜

The title of this fic comes from the well-known Robert Frost poem

Gilbert x female Reader

Holiday / winter fluff

Word Count: 1068

Obsidian is the opposite of Rhodolite. If your home country is soft, velvet roses and rolling green hills and trees staggering under the weight of the fruit they bear, then Obsidian is bushes with sharp, hungry thorns, dusty, cracked earth and trees that look utilitarian at best and menacing at worst. But Mother Nature has a secret, a way to equalize them both: snow. Snow covers the idyllic hills and small villages and gardens the same way it does stone houses, empty fields and barren trees. Snow brings beauty to even the harshest of places.

When you had stopped at the tall, arched windows and seen the blanket of white laid out before you, gleaming despite a wan sunlight muted by voluminous, gray velvet clouds, there was only one person you wanted to rush outside and experience it with.

He agreed readily, setting aside the day’s papers and letters and worries for something just as important, something vital to giving him the strength to continue with all those papers and letters and worries. Time with you.

Now you walk, arm in arm, over the soft snow, following the path that runs along the meager grain fields behind the palace. To your left looms the forest, black-barked trees with bare, spindly arms reaching for the heavens, bedecked in layers of sparkling white.

Gilbert is quiet, his red eye taking in the landscape, black boots ringed with clingy snow. You tighten your grip on his arm. If you were a snowflake, you would cling to him too, this man born of winter, whose skin is as pale and soft as the world around you. And as cold. However you know that under those layers of heavy black fabric and ornate gold and leather is a winter landscape that has trembled at your touch, melted under the heat of your mouth, and flushed at the movement of skin against skin.

“This way,” he says, breaking the silence. “There’s something I want to show you.” Your arms unlock but his hand finds you, threading his leather-gloved fingers through yours. He leads you onto a small, narrow path that turns left, weaving its way through the trees. At first sight they loomed ominously, a vague sense of foreboding radiating from their bare branches. But now, walking through them, hand in hand, there is something that feels more akin to safety, as if the forest was sheltering you instead of warning you.

He stops walking, raising one arm to point upwards. “There. This is what I wanted to show you.” You follow the long line of his arm up until you spot them. Nestled within the bare branches of the trees are bright green bushels of leaves dotted with tiny white berries. There is something almost whimsical about it, the vivid green amongst the dark, empty branches against the gray sky.

“Do you recognize it?” Gilbert walks around, stopping behind you in order to wrap his arms around your middle, holding you against him. You lean back, tilting your head until it rests against his shoulder, gaze still admiring the view. There is something familiar about those plants. That vibrant green with its small bright white pearls. While you are thinking things over, racking your brain to place them, he lowers his head, his cheek pressed against yours. You can feel the smile on his face. “Really, Häschen? I thought you would know it immediately. After all….” He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “It is one of your favorite holiday traditions.”

Those words suddenly take the vague ideas swimming around in your mind and sharpen them, lock them in place to create something recognizable.

“That’s mistletoe!” Wonder fills you as you look at the beautiful green gifting the gray landscape with vibrant color. “I’ve never seen it in the wild before.”

“Mm hm.” He’s decided your gaze has been up in the trees long enough. He wants those luminous eyes on him. Sliding his hands to your waist, he turns you until you’re facing him, lips curved artfully. “And what did you explain to me one does under mistletoe?”

Something warm blooms inside you, a joy at the sultry, teasing note in his voice, a thrill at the way his hands are holding you tightly against him. You thought the green of the mistletoe leaves was beautiful within the panorama of gray and white surrounding you, but now, the jeweled red of his eye, glinting with the promise of something inciting, is the most exquisite color in sight.

“We are surrounded by an awful lot of mistletoe, my love” you murmur even as his hands leave your side to cup your face, the feel of those soft leather gloves as dear and familiar to you as his skin. The gesture, though gentle, still sings of his possessive nature. You wrap your fingers slowly around his wrists, holding him. You can be possessive too. He leans down slowly, his gaze still on you, your lips only a breath away from his. He smiles and you feel it, the power it has, the way it fills your heart and the space between heart beats. He is as essential to you as air under a bird’s wing or water to the creatures of the deep.

“Then I suppose,” he says softly, “that one kiss will not be enough.” His voice pours molten gold into your ears and sends a ripple of warmth across your skin.

“Probably not,” you whisper in answer. And then your lips touch, a metamagnetic force pulling you together, irresistible and inescapable. His lips are soft and cool against the warmth of your kiss. You feel the way he melts under the movement of your mouth, like snowflakes when they fall on flushed skin. Gilbert is cool starlight over a snow-covered field, the glimmer of frost when it kisses the petal’s edge. The air around you may be chilled, but the point of contact where your mouths meet is a warm spring from which love and lust are reborn, over and over again, with each and every kiss.

Wrapped up in each other, neither of you notices the soft fall of snowflakes as they begin tumbling from the smoky clouds, small, cold, feathery flakes that land on your clothes, your hair, adorning you and all that surrounds you in soft, heavenly white.

A benediction.

A blessing.

Artwork by the incredible @thewitchofbooks 💜 Thank you for working with me, Nadia. I am so grateful you had the time and so in awe of your talent.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @bubblexly @joiedecombat

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #gilbert x reader #fluff fic #christmas fic #christmas fluff #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfic #thewitchofbooks #violettwrites

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notbynary · 1 year

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(basic ID in alt text, full descriptions below the cut)

my favorites of things i’ve drawn this year! (all rqg bc that’s basically all i drew for the entire year). i was a lot more inspired to draw this year, im really happy with my progress! also thank you so much to everyone who’s left nice comments and notes on these, love you all 💛

2: Digital fan art of the scene from Rusty Quill Gaming episode 51 of Hamid and the fire elemental. The fire elemental, a huge humanoid figure made entirely of flames, is crouching inside a large red crystal and looking down at Hamid. Hamid is standing next to the crystal looking up at the elemental, with one hand resting against the surface of the crystal. The elemental has one hand raised to match Hamid’s. Hamid is tiny in comparison, smaller than the elemental’s hand.

3: Digital fan art of Skraak from Rusty Quill Gaming. Skraak is a bright red kobold with slightly darker spots, wearing a metal breastplate and spikes on his tail. They are gripping a syringe spear with both hands and glaring, and a speech bubble by their head says “Move.” The background is a dark cave tunnel with faint greenish light.

4: Digital fan art of the Garden of Yerlik from Rusty Quill Gaming. It is a wood full of bright blue flowering trees, in a bowl-shaped valley between mountains drawn in shades of purple. In the center of the wood is a patch of blighted, brownish dead trees. The sky is early sunset, in yellow and orange.

5: Digital fan art of Skraak from Rusty Quill Gaming. Skraak is a red kobold, wearing a dark gray cloak and two belts. They are in a tree, holding onto a tree branch in one hand and holding a dagger in the other. He is looking around over his shoulder. It is night, and the sky in the background is dark blue.

6: Digital fan art of a blue veins plant skeleton monster from Rusty Quill Gaming. It is a skeleton with blue vines and bright glowing blue flowers growing out of its torso and head and wrapping around its limbs. In one hand it is holding a small rat with tiny blue plants starting to grow out of it. More plants are growing in small patches around its feet. The background is a dark hallway with more patches of blue plants.

7: Digital fan art of Shoin’s underwater base from Rusty Quill Gaming. The base is a glass dome set on the seabed, supported by metal struts. A glass tube with a walkway spirals around it, ending in a door at the base of the dome. Inside the dome is a round table, a small study area, and a large pipe organ, which glows slightly green.

8: Digital fan art of Grizzop and Vesseek from Rusty Quill Gaming. Grizzop is holding a bow ready but not aimed, and Vesseek is holding a longsword. Grizzop is a dark grey skinned goblin with red eyes. He is wearing a breastplate with an Artemis symbol, a dark green tunic, and brown pants. He has a quiver of arrows on his back. Vesseek is a greenish skinned goblin with orange eyes. They are wearing a sleeveless grey shirt and dark pants. Grizzop is smiling slightly, and Vesseek is grinning.

9: Digital fan art of Zolf Smith from Rusty Quill Gaming. His hands are shown in front of a stormy ocean. In his left hand he is holding a driftwood dolphin on a cord. In his right hand, he is holding a knife, which he is using to cut the cord. The knife has a small letter “S” carved into the handle.

10: Digital fan art of Sasha, Grizzop and Hamid from Rusty Quill Gaming, in Newton’s office. In the foreground, they are walking across the floorboards, and are minuscule compared to the scale of the room. The floorboards are a flat, mostly featureless plain, with a sunbeam making a square of light. In the distance is an apparently massive table leg, carved in a spiral pattern. The group is walking towards the table leg, with Sasha and Grizzop talking while Hamid walks ahead of them.

End IDs]

#rusty quill gaming #rqg #rqg kobolds #skraak #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #grizzop drik acht amsterdam #vesseek #zolf smith #sasha racket #i speak #my scribbles

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urthestunk · 1 year

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La Primavera by Sandro Botticelli: The Writers of NBC Hannibal Did Their Fucking Job

*TW: Sexual Violence, Rape, Kidnapping

To preface, I recently did a paper on this painting because I loved it from the show and I have a lot of thoughts I’d like to share. I truly believe the writers of this goddamn show deserve all the praise in the world for the amount of research they put into everything in the show.

This painting was commissioned by the Medici family most likely for a wedding and completed between 1477-1482 in Florence, Italy which classifies the painting as a Renaissance piece. La Primavera is not it’s original name as that’s unknown but was later given to the piece by an Art Historian. La Primavera translated from Italian means “The Springtime”.

Although this entire painting could be dissected character by character as there’s certainly enough to analyze, I’d like to specially point out the three characters I think both Botticelli and the writers of Hannibal wanted us to focus on.

On the far right side of the painting is a depiction of the God of Wind, Zephyr, and a nymph, Chloris. Zephyr is at the furthest end painted in mute grays and blues with his arms wrapped around Chloris with a look of frustration on his face. Chloris is looking at Zephyr with surprise and fear as she is being taken away by Zephyr. Firstly, it’s important to note that while every other character is characteristically neutral (as would be the typical depictions during the Renaissance), both Zephyr and Chloris have dynamic facial expressions which are more typical of the Baroque period. This, along with Zephyrs contrasting color pattern, separates these two characters from the rest of the painting.

We get the story of Zephyr and Chloris from Ovid, a Roman born in the first century who compiled both Greek and Roman mythologies into poems which often relied on themes of romance. As the story goes, Chloris was a lovely nymph who was enjoying the spring fields when the God Zephyr kidnaps and rapes her. After this, Chloris is transformed into the Goddess Flora who is depicted in La Primavera next to Chloris with a pregnant belly and flowers blooming around her. In Fasti Book 5 from Ovid it’s said that Chloris (now Flora) is happy and “enjoy[s] perpetual spring” that she “have a fruitful garden, fanned by the breeze and watered by a spring of running water” (Lines 200-202).

In Season 3, Hannibal and Will when they meet at the Uffizi Gallery have been separated by the violence Hannibal had committed against Will (stabbing him in the Season 2 Finale and killing Abigail). Essentially, I believe that Hannibal thought of himself as Zephyr when he sat in front of the painting and thought of Will as Chloris. We know that Hannibal had an affinity for this painting and especially these two characters because earlier in the season we learn that Il Mostoro (Hannibal’s “killer name” when he was a teen in Italy) killed two lovers that he positioned like Chloris and Zephyr.

I think that after the events of Season 2, and after Hannibal realizes he loves Will he sees this painting in an entirely different light. He accepts the violence he inflicted upon Will although he does not regret it. Zephyr apologized for his violence with the gift of a glorious transformation, Flora enjoys perpetual spring and is happy in marriage. I think what was so heartbreaking about Wills betrayal after they leave the gallery is that Hannibal has not yet transformed Will and given him his perpetual spring. Will continually rejects Hannibal and his own transformation, the violence that Hannibal has inflicted has no reward just yet.

It’s no accident that this painting is in front of them as they have arguably one of their most intimate and overtly romantic conversation of the entire show. The writers have put their fucking back into this and it SHOWS.

#Hannibal #nbc Hannibal #these writers are absolutely fantastic #also this painting is fucking amazing and I love it #sandro botticelli #la primavera #art analysis #show analysis #Hannibal analysis #I might add some more later if I think of it

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johnica-weeks · 1 year

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Roger and Sarina

Roger Taylor (26 July 1949) 💕 Sarina Potgieter (18 December 1971)

Married on 3 October 2010

Children: none together, Roger has 5 children from his previous relationships with Dominique (2) and Debbie (3)

Last but not least, here are some info about Roger and Sarina! Sarina Rose Potgieter was born in South Africa and at the age of 12 moved to Johannesburg in order to attend the National School of the Arts where she was accepted into their ballet program. She moved into the Drama program for the final two years of her schooling. Upon leaving the arts school, Sarina turned her hand to studying Make Up Artistry and Theatre Crafts at The Tshwane University Of Technology in Pretoria. She specialized in Prosthetics and special effects, prop making and set design. She then went on to dance professionally for many years in a number of theatrical productions worldwide.

In 2013 Sarina successfully moved into the realm of film, both as an actress and producer, and she's now active promoter of her and Roger's clothing brand "Taylored of London".

Roger met her in 2004 and they married on October 3rd 2010 at their home in Surrey, after a six year long stable relationship: "The 36-year-old bride wore a purple wedding dress and the celebrations had a black and red theme as the pair staged an unusual ceremony at their home in Surrey last Saturday. Says a friend: 'The whole event was very low-key but incredible fun and light-hearted. All they wanted was a really big knees-up with their pals rather than a formal white wedding. 'The reception was in a huge black and red marquee in their garden and all the waiters wore black. The tables were black and they even had black patent leather sofas outside. The theme was almost bondage.' A guest said: 'The music didn't stop before sunrise.'"

Sarina is a young and smart lady, often sharing her life on social media and actively promoting Roger's brand and Queen's activities, definitely bringing a spark of youth into Roger. While Roger got his first tattoo with Debbie, Sarina is also a huge fan of tattoos and both had their collection of tats growing during the years, thanks to the artist Manuela Gray.

She says, "Roger and I have an amazing relationship. We both understand that in order to be happy together, we need to allow each other the space and environment to constantly grow as human beings and to remain true to our individual paths. "We have a lot of fun together. Roger is extremely supportive of everything I do, as I am of him, and we manage to spend a lot of quality time together in between work schedules." (Sarina at Pretoria News, 2017)

Prompts - Day 5: Roger and Sarina (16th April)

This would be a great tattoo!

It's not a matter of age

Touring with Q+AL

Incredible how you can see right through me

Brian & Roger's ships week 2023 rules and prompts

#BrianRogerShipsWeek2023 #Brian and Roger ships week 2023 #roger taylor #sarina taylor #sarina potgieter #roger x sarina #roger taylor fanfic #queen fandom event #queen fandom #queen ship week #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #roger taylor x sarina potgeier

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shadamyheadcanons · 1 year

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Hi there! I was wondering about the IDW comics-is there a way to read them online? I've been trying to find a way to read them but it seems like you have to buy them one by one. Thanks!

Tbh, I’ve been reading them online here, but I’ll be buying them soon. I’m just not sure which format I want yet. IDW has digital copies on their website - issue #1 is $1.99, and volume 1 (the first 12 issues) is $19.99. Places like Amazon, ebay, and Barnes & Noble have them, too. The art is incredible, and I would much prefer to buy physical copies so I could see it on an actual page, but the prices are pretty steep, especially for those fancy hardcover volumes, and they’re frequently out of stock, so I’ve been hemming and hawing about it.

They did release a FREE issue about Tangle and Whisper, so if you’ve ever been curious about those two, check it out here! I really like them.

I’d highly recommend IDW not just to Sonic fans, but to literally anyone with eyes. It’s great for a million reasons, but I’ll focus on the art here. The covers are beautiful and action-packed, right from cover A for issue 1...

(Artists: Tracy Yardley & Tyson Hesse)

...to the latest, beautiful renaissance-inspired cover B for issue 59:

(Artist: Natalie Haines)

She made an actual painting for this, and she’s damn proud of it. As she should be. Just look at it!

More pretty IDW art and accompanying ranting under the cut.

I adore the introductions they give to the characters. Here’s Amy being a cute badass in issue 2. She’s earned it!!!

(Artist: Adam Bryce Thomas)

Side note: I like how they introduce characters in the order they were created, so Tails was issue 1, and issue 2 featured Amy. Knuckles didn’t show up until issue 3! This series gives Amy her proper place right from the get-go. It’s a nice touch.

Blaze is always cool in IDW--well, figuratively speaking. Look at her awesome introduction in issue 4!

(Artist - Evan Stanley, colorist - Matt Herms)

IDW’s artists do a great job portraying dynamic motion and physical impacts. There’s another really cool use of her powers later on, but I don’t want to spoil it! 👀

It’s not just the characters. The backgrounds and scenery are great, too. This is Angel Island from issue 9. Love the foreshortening in the back:

(Artist - Tracy Yardley, colorist - Matt Herms)

And the art being as good as it is fuels how strong the characters are. When was the last time the games properly showcased Amy and Cream’s friendship? IDW does it right, and issue 22’s art reinforces that:

(Artist: Priscilla Tramontano)

The context makes it significantly more heartwarming, too, but it’s another spoiler.

Apart from Amy, the one character who I think benefits most from this is Silver. This is his cutest, dorkiest, most endearing iteration yet, and I am here for it! Top two images are from issue 8, and the gardening segments below them are from IDW’s 2019 annual. It has some cute Silver/Blaze moments, and it doesn’t have any real spoilers for the main series. You can read it independently. It’s $3.99 on IDW’s website.

(Issue 8 artist - Evan Stanley, colorist - Matt Herms) (Annual 2019 artists - Jonathan Gray, Jack Lawrence, Jennifer Hernandez, and Diana Skelly)

I can’t help but smile whenever I see him. He’s cute in other iterations, too, but I always picture IDW when I write Silver.

Oh, and one last thing: after Amy and Silver’s cute meeting in Sonic 06, I headcanoned that she has a tendency to mother him. It fits well into the Shadamy-Descendent-Silver theory (y’know, that concept that was “sarcastically” suggested by Ian Flynn, Mr. IDW himself?), and I incorporated it into Shellshock. It was only after I’d gotten into the habit of writing them that way that I read further in IDW and ran into instances like these (spoilers removed):

(Issue 14 artist - Tracy Yardley, colorist - Leonardo Ito) (Issue 25 artist - Adam Bryce Thomas, colorist - Matt Herms)

And she is always the one to do this. No one else mothers him like this. Headcanon confirmed! Three points for the descendant theory!

#not a headcanon #ask #fandom1515 #you asked one simple question and i did all of #this #i'm so sorry lol #my hand slipped

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mijikai-tan · 1 year

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Since RedBubble has made a terrible decision regarding small artists, I will be discontinuing the sales of all my fan merch ranging from Samewada, The Gray garden, Fruit’s Basket’s Kyoru and Shaman King’s RenMei and YohAn fan merch.

I will be looking for another platform to sell my art. Thank you to all of those that supported me and bought my fan merch over the past few years, I appreciate it greatly.

#text #redbubble

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jades-typurriter · 10 months

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Take in the View/Taking the Brunt

Two women—a singer and a celestial being—have a heart-to-heart about the impossible standards they hold themselves to.

The art on this piece was a commission from @dapper-lil-arts ! Please check her out she rocks

Eyes–as blue and as vast as the sky, a pair belonging to Polaris–fell upon the Floatzel. This was one of the Gardevoir’s favorites, one of a handful towards which her attention was drawn more strongly than any of the others on the little blue garden world she watched over. She had much potential; the whole world would one day look to her as, now, only a certain admirer and Polaris herself did. Beautiful and confident, a model of grace… at least, most of the time. As Polaris found her now, it seemed she was having a rough night.

She moved part of herself “above” the Floatzel’s apartment. Or “beside”. Neither word was quite correct, but they were both closer than “inside”, at least for the moment. The singer sat at her dresser, looking into a mirror lined with fairy lights. The effect was not unlike the marquee at the lounge where she worked. A bit of motivation, the anodyne intruder supposed. Dressing for the job she wanted, even if it meant taking work home with her. Who could judge her for taking the stage name as her own? Throwing oneself into her work, especially work she was passionate about, work she believed in, was a way of powering through. The mask gets lighter when it becomes a part of you.

Yet, here she was, letting the mask down. She wiped makeup from her face, streaks of black mascara trailing from her eyes, eyeshadow making way for puffy, red circles. Instead of her usual repertoire of sparkling, slitted dresses, she now wore a faded, frayed pink sweatshirt, big enough for the collar to hang off one shoulder, and a baggy pair of pajama pants. Now seemed like as good a time as any for Polaris to step in.

She floated into the room, seemingly from nothing, as though stepping out from behind a lamppost. The three points of her crest, alight with the warm glow of a star, preceded her. Her folded hands, wrapped in matte gray gloves which obscured that same glow from the skin beneath, rested in front of a bell of layered skirts, which fluttered behind her, leaving a glittering cloud of dust in her wake. She now stood across the room, behind the Floatzel, fully visible in the mirror; even if she didn’t announce herself, it would’ve been rude to not make herself known. The Floatzel, for her part, had snatched up an umbrella that was leaning against her dresser, and whirled around to point it at the intrusion.

“Who are you!?” She shouted.

“Eleanor–”

“And how do you know my NAME!!”

“Well–” Polaris hesitated. “You could say I’m quite the fan of yours.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. A stalker? I haven’t been a performer NEARLY long enough for this, I–” the Floatzel stuttered, “I’m calling the boys from the Lounge.”

“You don’t need Derrick and Rodney,” the Gardevoir intoned calmly. “I promise, I’m not here to hurt you. I haven’t been ‘following’ you in the sense that you’re thinking, either.”

“Then just WHAT is this supposed to BE?”

“Don’t I look familiar to you, Eleanor?”

“You look like a crazy cosplayer, is what you look like. Who are you even supposed to be,” she spat, squinting, “Mother Polaris, or something?”

“The very same,” the Gardevoir replied, nodding, doing her best to appear ancient (true) and wise (debatable). Eleanor narrowed her eyes at her for a long moment, utterly still except for an eventual, perplexed blink.

“You’re kidding.”

“You just saw me step out of thin air, then name-drop the exact friends you were thinking of. I’m made of space dust,” she continued, performing a little curtsy that displaced a nebula’s worth of twinkling material from her skirts, “And I’m here because… well, you know why I’m here. That should be a bit of extra proof for you.”

“Why are you here?” Eleanor grilled her, cocking an eyebrow. The Gardevoir shook her head.

“I try not to put words in people’s mouths. I find that it often makes things worse, or reminds them of different problems from the ones I’ve come to help them with.”

“I’m asking you to guess. Maybe I’ll believe you if you get it right.”

“Well,” she began, bowing her featureless face in an approximation of a sigh, “You seemed like you could use someone to talk to. Have you been doubting yourself recently, dear?”

The note of genuine affection in Polaris’ voice seemed to catch Eleanor off guard. While Eleanor was no stranger to Polaris, the same could not be said for the converse. She hesitated, then glanced at the tissues and make-up pads on her dresser.

“Am I really doing so bad,” she asked weakly, shoulders slumping as she turned back toward the celestial woman, “That I’m being visited by… by, by, guardian figures from literal myths?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” The Gardevoir prompted, hovering by the edge of Eleanor’s bed, gently patting a spot next to her. Another moment’s hesitation–another moment’s disbelief–came and went, and the Floatzel acquiesced, joining her on the bed.

“Well, you’re here already, so you must have some idea of it,” she began. Polaris nodded along, encouraging her. “Sometimes… I don’t see a way forward for myself. I know it doesn’t really make sense, I know that. I’m the headliner at a wonderful little club. My boss–”

“Donna? The Lapras.”

“Y…yes, her,” she continued, still unsettled. “She loves having me there. Thinks I’m talented, thinks I liven up the place. My coworkers are all so supportive, too, I just… I don’t know if I’m waiting for some cliché ‘big break’, or if working my way up from the bottom is just going too slowly for me to feel good about it…”

“But?”

“But…” She sighed. She hadn’t admitted this out loud before, or at least, Polaris hadn’t been paying enough attention to hear it. It was rare, but she did have her lapses. They always seemed to be at the most important moments. “I look at the people who have already made it–”

“Like Carlotta. The Altaria, your mentor.”

“Right.”

“And I know that that Purugly is another person you admire.”

“Mhm.”

“You look at them, and you see what?”

“It’s less something I see in them, and more something I don’t see in myself. They’re so, so talented, and… I know my own abilities. I know I’ve worked hard, I practiced, Carlotta took me under her wing to teach her half of what I know herself, and I’ve got her approval for sure. But their work is so inspiring, so moving, and mine is just… well, I’m only me.”

“And you do not hear the same ring in your work, see the same poise in your movement, as you hear and see in theirs?”

“I suppose I don’t. I don’t really know what the difference is. I just don’t feel like I’m enough.”

“Well, I meant what I said earlier. I’m a big fan of yours.” At this, Eleanor barked out a laugh, rubbing one of her eyes with the ball of her palm.

“Aren’t you known for loving everyone on Earth? Caring for all?” She made a wavy little arcing gesture to poke at the grandiosity of it. “That feels almost like a compliment from my mom!” Polaris giggled in return, politely covering the place her mouth would be with a hand.

“I suppose that’s fair. Would it cheer you up at all if I told you a secret about what people call me nowadays?”

“It couldn’t hurt. Normally the best gossip I get is from Donna.”

“You all haven’t always called me Mother Polaris.”

“No?”

“No! In fact, when I first approached you, before I had even chosen the name Polaris for myself, I declared that you all should call me mom.

“PfffHAH! Just mom?”

“Just mom! I listened in on you all for a little while and decided, ‘oh, that’s what I need to be for them, the poor things!’”

“HAAHAHAHA, wow! Just imagining someone who looks as elegant and awe-inspiring as you, who talks as politely as you, just going ‘I’m your mom now’. HA!”

“Thankfully, I developed a better grasp on the nuances and the connotations eventually. I never did want to give up that sort of maternal position, though.”

“Well, you work it,” Eleanor reassured her, her laughter dying down to a faint grin. “It did make me feel a bit better.” There was a long pause. Eleanor looked down at the floor; Polaris suspected she was working up to discussing another difficult subject. Eventually, she spoke again:

“Would it be okay if I talked about something else? I really do appreciate the visit–you’ve already cheered me up, and just the time you took to come see me–but I guess I don’t feel like I’ve gotten it all off my chest.”

“Say as much as you feel you need to, Eleanor. This is what I’m here for,” she comforted the poor thing, though the true depth of the statement was likely lost on her.

“Alright. Thank you.” She paused, finding the words, then discarding them. “So, since we’re talking about names. Um. I don’t get to talk to deities all that often,” she chuckled, feeling awkward. “Can I ask why you settled on Polaris?”

“Dear, I don’t believe that was what you were so worried about saying.” The Floatzel screwed up her lip, glancing away from the Gardevoir. “How about this: I’ll tell you more about my name if you tell me more about how you’re feeling. Are you comfortable with that?” Eleanor slowly dragged her eyes back to meet Polaris’, and hesitantly nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t know if this is the missing… quality that I was talking about earlier, or if it’s something separate, but it’s also part of what’s been bugging me. I look at Carlotta, and honestly, I even look at Donna, and they’re just, so in-their-own-element, so confident, like, like they never miss a beat. And like I said, Carlotta taught me most of what I know–especially, I guess, faking it until I make it.

“But it’s just so hard to keep up with them. I’m exhausted after performing all night, keeping that calm, collected persona up while I chat up the patrons and ‘relax’ with my friends. They don’t even break a sweat. I’ve seen Donna haul a heckler or a creep up by his shirt collar and throw him out into the street, then go right back to laughing with the regulars like it never happened, and I just don’t get it. Carlotta’s smile never wavers for a moment. Donna can keep an eye on us around the clock. It feels like so much more work when I do it than when they do! It takes everything I have just to be at a point where I feel out of my depth, and I know it only gets deeper the further I want to go. I don’t know if I have it in me.”

Polaris nodded thoughtfully, appraising Eleanor before offering a response. She considered what might help her–her, specifically, with her disposition and her problems–to hear in this moment. She couldn’t solve her problem for her, that much she knew; her position relegated her largely to moral support. Even the most basic of contributions, taking an active role like providing reminders of accountability, even just regular encouragement, often felt like an impossible commitment given how she spread her mental resources. Then, ought she reassure the Floatzel? Suggest how she might solve the problem herself?

She decided that a bit of perspective would serve her best, and Polaris was perhaps the best-equipped to provide a step back.

“Eleanor,” she began, smoothing out her skirts, choosing her words deliberately and with consideration, “You already know that I keep track of… well, most things that go on. Yes?”

Eleanor nodded, scooting further onto her bed, having drawn up her knees to her chest.

“Then you’ll trust my insight into your relations.”

She nodded again.

“You are not the only one who struggles to keep up with the demands of her life. Nor are you the only one who keeps up a façade to put their best foot forward at all times. Carlotta would tell you that ‘that’s showbusiness’, but do not mistake me. Neither she nor I tell you this to dismiss your problems, or suggest that you need only get used to it. Rather, it is to instill in you a mutual understanding with your peers: even those of them who appear to succeed effortlessly toil behind closed doors. They have to practice every bit as much as you. They have to take time to decompress as often as you.”

“Right. They’re there to help me and the other girls who work the place feel safe.”

“I… I struggle to see it, even still. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize, dear,” Polaris hushed her as she moved closer. “Perhaps this will make it easier. Donna keeps those two Incineroar boys on staff, yes?”

“Of course. And you mentioned that Donna takes such matters into her own hands as well, yes?”

“She does.”

“Do you think that she would bother continuing to pay two employees if she were utterly, totally confident in her ability to keep you safe herself?” A pause, then a defeated sigh through Eleanor’s nose.

“I don’t suppose she would.”

“She would not! Even someone as self-assured, as decidedly capable as Donna knows her limits. But if she were to draw attention to those limits, it might make you and the other girls feel less safe, right?”

“I guess so.”

“They want to seem professional as badly as you do, Eleanor.” She placed a gloved hand on the performer’s shoulder, looking her directly in the eyes. “Your achievements are earned. You are not falling behind. You work harder than most anybody under my watch.”

Eleanor’s eyes fell again, but this time the movement was accompanied by a smile, tinged with relief.

“That… means a lot to hear. Thank you. So much.”

“Of course, dear. Now,” she said, rising to her full floating height, “Is there anything else you wish to talk about? Anything else I can try to help you with?”

“You promised me another story about your name.”

“Ah. That I did.”

“Go ahead! Make yourself comfortable,” Eleanor said, waving to the other half of her bed and to a sofa in the corner of the room. Hardly.

“What was your question again, dear?” The Gardevoir asked, floating away from Eleanor, her skirts rising and then settling as she rested herself in the cushioned chair. “Why I chose my name?”

“Mhm!” She had grabbed a pillow from by the headboard of her bed and was holding it in her lap. She almost seemed like she was sitting at a slumber party, talking about pettier secrets with girlfriends, like who was crushing on who.

“You see…” Yet again, she chose her words carefully. “Motherhood was not the only concept among your cultures that I saw fit to embody. Guidance, constancy, stalwartness… Many cultures rely on the stars for navigation. Their ever-presence, their reliability, makes them indispensable; they serve a necessary function. As for the name Polaris specifically, I found that it was emblematic of these qualities–though I just as well could have found a way to make the Southern Cross my namesake, had I first contacted you below the equator.”

“I see… Names with personal meanings like that are the best ones, in my opinion.”

“I agree. It wouldn’t do for one to live by a name that rang hollow to them. A good name is one that truly represents you, or that you can at least strive to live up to.”

“Do you feel that way about your name?”

“How do you mean?”

“Do you feel like you actively try to live up to it?” So she had caught on. This was why she had tried to depart early, but there was no sense in being rude–or worse, arousing concern–by attempting to worm out of it now. She had had this conversation many times before.

“I do my best,” was Polaris’ outward response.

“And… I’m sorry if this is overstepping, but–”

“No, by all means. You were promised a story, were you not?”

“Are you trying to look professional, too? Maybe, in trying to reassure me, you don’t want to let on that… Well, I don’t want to put words in your mouth.”

“I appreciate that, dear. To answer your question, yes, I was speaking from experience on the subject of façades.”

“I imagine that you’re very busy trying to help everybody on the planet.”

“Yes.”

“And you try to ‘look professional’ for all of them as well, since you find such deep personal meaning in being their rock.”

“Naturally.”

“So have you ever actually… talked to anyone about how stressful it is for you?”

“Of course.”

“Oh.” She seemed taken aback by that answer. “Um.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“I guess I just thought that a goddess would be able to handle it better than a regular girl could? Or that, at least, you could put up with it for longer. I don’t know why I’m surprised that someone who’s been around as long as you have has… had a heart-to-heart with someone before.” She still seemed curious; Polaris could reasonably figure what her remaining unanswered questions were.

“Well, I try not to. For reasons beyond ‘seeming professional’, I mean.” The Floatzel opened her mouth to ask, and Polaris cut her off. “No, I will not give you the details.”

“Why not? It’s only fair that I should offer you help after you’ve cleared my head.”

“Eleanor, do you remember that joke from that old cartoon about whether mailmen deliver their own mail?” She watched her brow furrow in confusion–it was an odd example, she knew, but one that would almost definitely be familiar. After a moment of gear-turning, the Floatzel nodded at her. “There’s a similar saying about therapists: each of them needs a therapist of their own to handle the things they hear about in the course of their work.”

“So why not be each other’s therapists?”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand the things I hear in my work, dear. How can I illustrate this for you…” Polaris brought a hand to her chin and pondered for a moment. These concepts were often difficult for earthly beings to grasp, but she’d had many opportunities to try, and she was reasonably sure she could convey them properly. “Imagine… imagine a mural on the side of the building.”

“Okay.”

“The mural takes up the whole wall of this building.” A nod. “Now imagine that this building is a skyscraper.” Another nod, concern evident on her face. “Imagine that you are big enough that you can take in the mural in its entirety. Then, simultaneously, imagine that you have enough eyes to focus on every inch of that mural at once. Try to appreciate the mural’s every detail, in your mind; not one-by-one, but every detail, with full clarity, all at once. As though there were two sharp spots in the center of your field of vision, but, well, far more than two.”

“I…” The Floatzel shrunk. “Alright. I take your point, I think.”

“What kind of mural might this be, Eleanor? What situations call for a guardian angel to poke her head into your life?”

“Yes. Okay.”

“You can imagine, if the mere concept is this disquieting, why I shy away from confiding fully in any one person.”

“I can.” Once again, Polaris met Eleanor’s eyes. The silence was long. Uncomfortable. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing for you to apologize for, dear. I promised you an answer, and now you have it.”

“No, I mean… I’m sorry that you have to deal with that. Don’t you ever have time to, to rest?”

“Eleanor, I’m with about a dozen people besides you at this very moment.” Another painfully long silence.

“How can you put up with it? I know I push myself for my music, but… that’s something that fulfills me. It’s a calling, I get something out of it.”

“One could say that this is something of a calling for me, as well. Regardless, it is as I said–”

“‘A necessary function`.”

“Indeed.”

Silence.

“Though,” the Gardevoir spoke again, “I suppose that does not answer the question of why I carry on this way.” The Floatzel lifted her chin from her knees and cocked her head at Polaris. “Outwardly, I know, I am quite akin to things you refer to as ‘heavenly bodies’, but I am not actually divine, as many of you assume. As I said, I simply appeared before some of your people; that was shortly after I first made a chance discovery of your world. I did not create you, and while I am not responsible for you…

“Someone of my abilities–my constitution, one who does not tire and sleep the way you earthly beings do, has no need for food or drink… I can. Therefore I should. It is difficult, I suppose, not to feel responsible for you.”

…

“There has to be… has to be something that makes that easier for you, Polaris. Isn’t there anything I can do–anything anyone can do? If you don’t want to… can’t, talk about it, maybe I can do something that isn’t talking.”

This gave Polaris pause; even with the Floatzel’s words ringing in her ears, that fair is fair, and help for help was only reasonable, she… she would have felt deeply that she was imposing by asking for much of anything. Even one of her songs would’ve felt like putting her out of her way, especially since the Gardevoir could listen in on one of her performances on any night she wished. Or. Any night she could spare the attention.

Something that required even less work than that, then. Something the Floatzel could offer that required barely any effort at all. Something Polaris could enjoy merely by being in her presence. She sucked in a deep breath, willing herself not to shudder as she did so.

“Dear. Pardon. Eleanor,” she wrung the words from her throat. “Would you be willing to… simply allow me to hold you? The touch would be… comforting.” She couldn’t meet the Floatzel’s eyes as she spoke, this time. Had her mask been on, Polaris was sure she would’ve had a cute, flirtatious remark about the opportunity to cuddle a goddess instead of just pick her brain, but shake–and mercifully considerate–as she was, she made no such jest.

“Of course. Yes, Polaris, I can.” She placed the pillow aside and patted the bed beside her, opening her arms to the Gardevoir, who drifted to her side like a dry leaf on the wind.

Polaris pulled the Floatzel up halfway onto the mound of her skirts, allowing her to get comfortable. Eleanor, smaller by a head or two, nestled her head against the watcher just beneath her crest, wrapping her arms around her waist. The Gardevoir’s gentle hands rested on her companion’s back, arms draped gingerly over her shoulders.

With her charge no longer looking her in the face, her visage relaxed, and the etchings of exhaustion revealed themselves. Tired circles hung under her eyes like the distortions of gravity around a black hole. If she had a mouth, frown lines would have deepened at its corners. But it was a welcome change. Down came Polaris’ mask, and down were her eyes cast, taking in the sight of the girl who had offered her this act of compassion, this moment of privacy and of connection, both of which the guardian had desperately needed.

Tears welled in her blue eyes, and though she strangled a sob, hoping neither to lose her composure in a way Eleanor could see, nor to disturb her, they began to run down her face. Gleaming, shimmering streaks lined both of her cheeks, now, broad strokes of deep, near-black blues shot through with simmering, rusty red. She hoped Eleanor wouldn’t fall the teardrops falling onto her orange coat, hoped that they wouldn’t stain her dress and leave any evidence of the emotion slipping through the cracks, but ultimately could do nothing to stop it. She couldn’t bring herself to break away from the embrace–its warmth could have filled the whole of her starry domain.

Despite herself, she squeezed the Floatzel ever-so-slightly tighter, and did not let go until she was sound asleep in her lap. Polaris held her for some time even after that, still unwilling to leave this. When she finally collected herself, she disappeared in much the same way as she had arrived, vanishing through a gateway that did not exist, ceasing to intersect with Eleanor’s bedroom. She took great care to set Eleanor down gently as she went, silently thanking her the whole way, and silently vowing to make it to her next show. Even if Eleanor did not know she was there, Polaris would attend. For herself.

#original writing #writeblr #trans author #pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #floatzel #gardevoir #my writing #short story #lapras lounge #indie author

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asterless · 8 months

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Rigatona having a great time...

#anime #my art #fan art #anime art #funamusea #deep sea prisoner #ivlis #funamuseart #the gray garden #rigatona #macrona

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maidenvault · 1 year

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Favorite gothic horror novels? Just finished rereading Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Finished reading Rebecca about a month ago after not being able to concentrate on books for awhile and it brought me back to the gothic genre

Hey! 😁 So I don’t have a more recent memory of many books in this category and I don’t trust my own taste from 8+ years ago lol, but these are some novels you didn’t already mention (+ some short stories and other stuff) that I’ve loved enough to read more than once and know pretty well.

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

“The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.” This one is so effective in how it very gradually turns into horror, opening with lush descriptions of the beauty of a garden in the first scene and then, as Dorian moves toward becoming so evil over the course of the story, taking you to darker and darker places, to depravity and decay. Basically a scathing criticism of English aristocracy and a defense of problematic art in which Wilde was also deprecating himself a bit, which seems to suggest that total innocence is the greatest sin because Dorian's inability to think for himself makes him so easily corrupted by challenging ideas.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

“Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within.” I'm a bit of a hater of the Netflix Hill House, mostly because even taking it on its own terms it's just not that good, but also because it erases the real horror at the center of the novel, which is the harm the traditional family can do and the reality that one can never completely escape where they came from. The ending feels horrifyingly inevitable because of how incredibly well the protagonist and her weaknesses are fleshed out throughout the book. Few pieces of horror media have truly gotten to me and spoken to some of my own personal fears like this.

Interview With the Vampire / The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice

“Do you know what it means to be loved by Death? Do you know what it means to have Death know your name?” These aren't all-time favorite books of mine or anything, and I wouldn't quite call myself a TVC fan, but so much about these first two books in the series are exactly what I want when I feel like reading something moody and gothic in a historical setting. When I finally got around to reading these after a life of being exposed to stuff like True Blood and TVD, it felt like running my hands through bolts of authentic silk and velvet after only encountering synthetic imitations of those before. Somehow they still hold up as something special in the vampire genre and aren’t just laughable after angsty vampires and other things in them have become cliché. Knowing Anne Rice was, in a way, dealing with the death of her daughter by writing the first one certainly helps to still give it some real power.

Swamp Thing by Alan Moore (Saga of the Swamp Thing #20-61)

“There grows yet in Hell a flower that’s named for her.” In this run, Moore famously retconned aspects of Swampy's origin story and put him in a very Frankenstein-like state of questioning the nature and meaning of his existence as a monster. It's beautifully atmospheric and you can practically hear the insects in the Louisiana bayou in the more still and quiet nighttime moments. You get a mad scientist villain, a beauty-and-the-beast love story, truly terrifying vampires, truly terrifying occult magic stuff, and an unforgettable portrayal of Hell that Neil Gaiman would later build on in The Sandman.

“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” by Washington Irving

“Not far from this village, perhaps about two miles, there is a little valley or rather lap of land among high hills, which is one of the quietest places in the whole world. A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere.” If you're not the kind of reader who can enjoy, in and of itself, being immersed in a setting through lengthy descriptions, this may not be your thing, but I just love the picture it paints of historical New England. It’s the ultimate spooky autumn vibes story, in a sort of wholesome and cozy way. I think of certain passages every year when the leaves start to turn and I start seeing pumpkins everywhere.

"The Masque of the Red Death" / "The Tell-Tale Heart" / "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Edgar Allan Poe

I mean, it's Poe. WYD if you haven't started with some of these.

"Goblin Market" by Christina Rosetti

If you were exposed to this as a kid like I was, it’s worth revisiting! A favorite poem of mine which tells a very moving and dark fairy tale.

“The Rats In the Walls” / “The Call of Cthulhu” / “The Shadow Over Innsmouth” by H.P. Lovecraft

“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.” The problems with Lovecraft are well known and you can absolutely live without reading his work if you don't want to take the gross stuff with the stuff that works, but the stuff that works no one else can really do quite like he did. It's not that his prose was even that great, but....his imagination. 🤯 He was consciously taking a lot from Poe, and I think his work seems to partly fit right in with gothic works of the classic canon because it was dealing with the anxieties of an increasingly secular world, perhaps during the last gasp of a time when that could still feel like a relevant theme in horror, but obviously in a very new way that was uniquely his own and came to define cosmic horror.

#the haunting of hill house #the picture of dorian gray #swamp thing #the vampire chronicles #h. p. lovecraft #asks

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dustedmagazine · 1 year

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Pile — All Fiction (Exploding in Sound)

All Fiction by Pile

Rick Maguire was ready. Pile’s frontman had been punting on the idea that the group’s “traditional rock band” setup of two guitars, bass, drums and a single vocalist needed reexamination since the aftermath of Dripping — whether it was studio time for a record or burnishing their reputation as your favorite band’s favorite band on tour, something was always in the way of a fundamental rethink to their sound. With Green and Gray firmly behind them, the departure of second guitarist Chappy Hull and a pandemic lockdown, there could be no more excuses. It was time to see what was left in the tank.

Speedy Ortiz’s Sadie Dupuis writes in the press bio of All Fiction that Maguire was heavily influenced by Mt. Eerie’s unusual timbres, Kate Bush’s ambition and Aphex Twin’s production. Broadcast, Krzysztof Penderecki, Portishead and Tinariwen are invoked as reference points. He says he was tired of the band’s identity, that he’d switched from a guitar to using synthesizers as his main instrument for composition, that lyrical directness took a backseat to more abstract forms of word association, that he “wanted to use different instruments and recording techniques to highlight the songs rather than creating the visual of a band performing them.” To hear Pile tell it, All Fiction is the band’s Kid A, a decadently grand break from the past.

This is an overstatement. In the same way that some people only know how to be who they are regardless of what they go through, Pile’s reinvention is by a matter of degrees, a slow-burning battle of inches. Perhaps more than anything, what All Fiction makes clear is that every new Pile record is the most like themselves they could possibly sound; it is the most Pile listeners have ever heard the band be.

Don’t read that in a negative light, though. Lessons learned both from the full-on improv jam sessions that comprised In the Corners of a Sphere-Filled Room and Maguire’s pandemic pet project of solo reworkings of old material, Songs Known Together, Alone, have fed directly into two fistfuls of songs that are at once as tight and as expansive as the band has ever been. The trio isn’t unrecognizable in their compositions, but it’s the way they use space that appears to have shifted. The result is formidable for fans and an easy entry point for those just joining the journey.

“Loops” was a logical first single, but its prominent, unusually polished percussion suggested this was going to be a much heavier record sonically than it is. More indicative is the last half-minute’s reverb-heavy solo guitar outro, which I said upon its release hints at a whole other song, a whole other world. That whole other world, as it turns out, is the record writ large: Though longtime acolytes will appreciate there are grimy guitar tones on “Gardening Hours” and a dour downtuning on, say, “Link Arms,” Maguire himself shoulders the weight of topics including the subjectivity of perception (it’s right there in the title, after all), big tech, the nature of making art, and the usual human concerns of anxiety and death while the music follows fleet-footed behind his instantly recognizable, miasmatic delivery punctuated by unshakable epigrams and notes that slide in and out of language.

For years, my biggest complaint about this band was how almost good they were at sequencing to the point that I thought they were doing it intentionally; think of how jarring A Hairshirt of Purpose’s segue from “Hairshirt” to “I Don’t Want to Do This Anymore” is, or the jam tacked onto “Appendicitis” in what otherwise would’ve been a perfect album closer for You’re Better Than This. That kind of maddening internal logic was part of their smirking low-stakes charm and a quirk you could (and I did) come to love. But something happened with Green and Gray in which they fully, finally worked out that the “rock” parts could commingle with the quieter, more introspective moments in a more fluid fashion, often in the same song. What resulted was 2019’s best album.

All Fiction furthers that thinking, another reason this feels less like a leap and more like a carefully considered step toward further Piledom — the band’s flowing, peripatetic nature makes writing about individual songs less important than considering the whole. It’s easy to catch yourself relistening to “Nude With a Suitcase” to see if there’s a bassline leitmotif from “Gardening Hours” (or some other record, not for the first time with this band) or wondering how the nearly five-minute “Blood” passes by percussionless at the same emotional tenor as the rest or considering how smartly the string quartet is deployed as a through-line from “It Comes Closer” right down to the final swell of “Neon Gray.” It wouldn’t be Pile without a transition like the one from “Forgetting” to “Poisons,” but even that still manages to work in context; if such things bother you, too, you’ll find yourself forgetting it’s there on repeat listens.

All of this writes around what All Fiction distilled to, which is what Pile has always distilled to: a guy wrestling with life’s antagonistic forces, trying to make sense of a world that doesn’t easily offer up proof of any. Green and Gray was an apotheosis of that, a resigned sigh backing reluctantly out of youth. All Fiction does the same, mostly with topics larger than relationships, but it’s still those unadorned drippings scattered across an increasingly surreal lyrical landscape that hit home hardest. On “Neon Gray,” Maguire laments, “Digging at nothing without romance / It’s just mist, but not from this distance / It’ll work until it won’t, I guess.” The beauty of this delivery can’t be overstated as the album’s last clearly sung words before the strings surge and his final chorus carries you out. Like any great Pile song (or any art worth a damn, really), it lodges in your throat, chokes you up, gets you thinking — and if what you’re thinking after a listen through All Fiction is that Pile is still your favorite band’s favorite band, it’s past time you found a new favorite band.

Patrick Masterson

#pile #all fiction #exploding in sound #patrick masterson #albumreview #dusted magazine #rock #indie #punk

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