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niconebula · 1 year

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Okay, I really want Watching and Dreaming to include in it's themes a conversation about The Collector's immortality and King's self professed semi-immortality. The big elephant in the room is that King is eventually going to outlive all of his family and friends dozens of times over. He starts implying that they have this kind of connection and understanding to Eda, but we haven't seen it play out yet. This is the reason it's important to set him and the Collector up as the genuine best friends I'm sure they will start (slowly) becoming by the end of the series.

I find TOH to be a death and naturality positive show. Caleb will never actually speak from his grave to Belos, there's no communicating with the dead and any attempt at a reversal of the natural cycle, like Belos re-animating tons of Grimwalkers, is obviously framed as being bad. I could make a whole post just on this topic. It's also why I'm not completely on board with the guy from the in-between being THE titan himself.

It's been said by Dana that The Collectors are all about being unnatural, resisting change, and preserving time. They collect so that things may never fade, and the Titans were in direct opposition to this in their creating of new, different life through death. Therefore, I'd like them to tackle the theme head on with King opening up about his existential dread and uncertainties. One of my fears ever since the big reveal was that they were going to find some magical way to change King into a mortal being so that he could be with his family in a 'normal' way. This would be a bad move for a lot of reasons; primarily that it blows a hole in the legacy he carries as the last Titan and representative of his people. Though it might be comforting to him to live the life he originally expected, it would take away his unique identity. With the Collector, a lot of theories hinge upon his magic being drained in some kind of way, making him into a normal mortal child as a solution to his problems. I'll be really disappointed if this happens. I'm not against them preserving a large part of his magic somehow in an amulet to allow them to access it once they come of age and maturity (incredibly specific because this is my idea right now). But anything further would be taking away their identity as well as making King once again alone by the time the Clawthornes die (again unless they do it to him too.. it would be bad though).

Both being the only one of their species remaining from the war (though there may be more Collectors further out there), their reconciliation is an incredibly strong theme. And for King to know that he's not alone in trying to accept his history and Titan-hood, and everything that entails. I'm also just incredibly curious about the kinds of things they would get up to in the farther future including some inter-dimensional or worldly travel and for King the rebuilding of the Titan species; a lore topic for another day but I tend to think King only having a dad is quite literal in that Titans are a 'male' only species and reproduce in a kind of magical asexual way.

#question for another day; is the demon realm ACTUALLY another dimension or is it just another planet that can be reached #through a portal? and would that imply collectors exist on Earth too and are responsible for alien abduction stories?#tune in for more next week #the owl house #toh spoilers #king clawthorne #the collector #put pictures in to break up the text cause UHH its a lot #come get ur loreposting!!!

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hajihiko · 1 year

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This is unrelated but I just want to share this optional dialogue moment from chapter 5.

WHAT. THATS SO SAD

#AAAA???? the person he considered killing whom his only companion actually killed #Took the one good and accurate picture of them... together....#WAH?????#WAH.#Idc what anyone says Fuyuhiko's redemption arc is (all layers peeled) pretty good.#That's so. Hmmm story-through-line....like it's a good story connector #Idk English for it rn sorry #Not an art #Thank u for this submission!! I had never seen it

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commsroom · 2 years

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i think one of the boldest and best moves wolf 359 makes in its character development is that, in terms of the major defining events that led him to where he is, eiffel doesn't have a tragic backstory so much as he is responsible for the tragic backstory of someone else.

(the archetype of the everyman protagonist who copes with past trauma via humor does in many ways describe eiffel, but like with every character in wolf, it's the complexity of their circumstances that make them feel like real people with believable inner worlds. they don't subvert the archetypes they represent, exactly; they're just people, complex and contradictory, who ultimately can't be constrained by the expectations or defined lines of the narratives imposed on them.)

eiffel believes this is an intrinsic part of who he is, that he was "just those mistakes"; he externalizes his desire for redemption and that manifests as lenience towards people who lack his fundamental desire for growth. and in failing to recognize his own ability for growth, he presents himself as a doomed character archetype more than a person; he sidelines himself as an observer within his own story. his guilt and self-hatred allow him to in some way abdicate responsibility, to see his failings as inevitable, and it's only accepting his own complexity and capacity to be more, the human quality he recognizes so fervently in others, that frees him from those self-imposed conceptions.

(once my friend kit said that eiffel “defines the tone and the moral compass of wolf 359 so strongly that if you put him into any other series he would turn it into wolf 359 too” and i think about that a lot.)

doug eiffel is wolf 359, in all it believes, and despite his perception of himself as the weakest link, he is so interwoven with both the crew of the hephaestus and the themes of the show that he is inseparable from either. he doesn't always embody the show's values or its morals - in fact, he frequently fails to live up to them as much as he'd like - but he is the one who advocates for them. "it's not just about surviving; it's about being able to live with ourselves after we get off this tin can."

it's a show about communication; he is an intermediary, a vessel for communication - sometimes literally, and he's also just a guy who is still trying to learn how to communicate better himself. what eiffel represents is a flawed, contradictory, unpredictable, irrepressible humanity, singular, and so desperately in need of connection. the show's love of humanity is truer for that. he has genuinely done wrong, in ways he may not ever be forgiven for. he has very real flaws, some of which persist through the entire show, even as he's consciously trying to do better. and he is very much human, and very much loved.

#wolf 359 #w359 #doug eiffel #and i want to kiss him. with tongue.#i don't even know how to express this fully it's. these simultaneous facts #that he is so interwoven with the themes and narrative of wolf 359. enough to be inseparable from it.#while also being constrained by his own narrative preconceptions of who he is. and how he views the world through pop culture #stories and archetypes and escapism #while also being The Most Human of them all. in some ways that are so wonderful and some that are so infuriating #and that ALL of that is why wolf 359 characters broadly feel so much more Like People to me than characters from basically anything else do #because it's so essential to. what the show is trying to say. that they have to be. they can't be straightforward #they can't be suggestions or concepts or archetypes. they have to be people #they have to have pieces that don't fit neatly together #or even ones that outright seem to contradict each other #that there are too many factors to even one individual person for any Big Picture #in the corporate or cosmic sense. to ever account for.#and that's what wolf 359 is about!! and that's who eiffel is!!#and that's what he brings out in others!!#makes me crazy.

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seeminglydark · 12 days

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Hey um, so this is actually my first time typing anything on tumblr, partially because I only got it a couple months ago (something something healing my inner child because I only managed to secretly log into Webtoons during my younger years) and I am also a chronic lurker. Alas, it is the night hours and this, combined with listening to the first episode of Mil-Liminal has moved me to emerge, if only for a moment.

Sorry, this is strange. I am typing to someone I do not know who has written so much that is so close to my heart. Something about the first episode just really hit. Maybe it’s cause of how I can relate. Maybe it’s cause listening to it felt a little too real as if maybe you or someone you knew could relate. The thought makes me really sad but also less alone. Is that messed up?

Regardless, thank you so much for everything you make. Every success you have makes me really happy, and seeing you expand over the years to now being able to hear “Caro’s” voice after imagining it for so long- just awesome. Now if I may impose my nagging that I give to my friends upon you, please take care of yourself, make space and recognize the inherent worth you have, know that rest is necessary and you do not need to earn it, and thank you for everything you have done for the community and for all the dark times of my life you have lighted.

Hey, Hi. Even as a person who literally writes for a living, I'm always at a loss for words. Thank you. Thank you for summoning courage and coming out of the shadows for a second to send me this message. I want you to know it moved me to tears (don't worry, crying's healthy.) It's not messed up to feel less alone by listening to my stories, because you're right. Almost everything I write, I have experienced in some kinda way. That includes breaking free from control, running away, and living in my car and suddenly not knowing who the hell I even was (not from my parents though, as in Caro's case.) My writing is and has always been a way to process and express my own grief, healing, yearning, and wishing, identity, and sexuality. The fact that it can hit other people who might be going through or went through similar things actually makes it even more worth while to me. And you don't need to be sad for the things I've gone through, because it brought me here. Almost middle-aged, the bad times feel like an old nightmare I can barely remember, Breathing, Heart beating, ALIVE and with stories to tell, and if I'm lucky, some hope to share. Cuz there is hope, and don't you forget that.

Thank you again, from the very bottom of my heart. This whole message is really so special to me in the deepest most profound way possible. I want to reply to the last paragraph with something great to say, you know what I mean? Words are hard though. So instead I'll thank you again, and I'll ask that you have that same grace for yourself too, and leave you with a little drawing of a kid figuring out their life, even though they feel really lost right now, the wonderful thing about Caro's story is that we already know it's going to be ok one day. -RJ

#asks #or maybe letters #thank you so much #one time i was floundering in my life #and i was walking through the streets of seattle and everything felt bad broken and out of reach #and on a telephone pole on the corner of phinney i saw a yellow post it note #and in red ink it said 'everything's going to be ok'#and thats so corny but i took a picture and i look at it from time to time #i hope my stories and my art can be that for someone else #ok i probably wrote too much in the tags #anyway #much love

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greenerteacups · 5 days

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How do you generate ideas for both plot and characters? I’m one of the hundreds who is swooning and getting her breath caught at the “what’s this, Granger?” moment and I’d love to know how you came up with the idea for this in particular + how you usually come up with other wonderful moments that constitute the glorious Lionheart saga.

Oh, gosh, you're lovely. When writing is good — and this is a big conditional, because sometimes writing is like riding a horse and sometimes it's like wrestling an octopus, and you can rarely predict which — I don't necessarily think about the Process. It's sinking into the world and going, "Okay, action." There's an outline lurking behind it, and latently I'm considering some miscellaneous higher-order ideas about theme and structure, but I'm not writing the book in order to talk about those themes; the themes are in the book because I'm writing it and I'm interested in them. I can't very well help it, they're gonna end up in there no matter what. I don't have to worry about the architecture when I'm doing the upholstery, if that makes sense.

Discovering the more specific character beats and exchanges like the one in Chapter 64 are one of the ineluctable joys of creation. Sometimes, I think of a line while I'm walking down the street, jot it down in my Notes app, and carefully, meticulously develop a context where I can deploy it. Other times, I'm standing there in the scene and a guy does a thing, and I'm as startled as anyone.

#the techier way to think about this is like: before I write a moment I'm running through dozens of ways the moment could go #and trying to choose the best #i.e. if character is a set of parameters in contexts then any charater will have a set of in-character and OOC responses #so I have a box for in-character work and — occasionally! for fun — can complicate the picture with something OOC #which if done sparingly enriches and sharpens the body of the character instead of breaking it #so I'm asking: what are we doing with this scene and how far am I trying to push this character today #what's the core tension in this scene? how are they responding to it?#what is the most efficient way I can get everyone in this scene to hit their marks so the story can continue?#you don't have to ask all of these questions at once; these are just different ways to fight the blank page #lionheart spoilers #greenteacup asks

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9w1ft · 1 year

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welcome to new york // “how'd we end up on the floor, anyway?" you say “your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how" // rosé flowing with your chosen family // girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby // and i chose you // i hope i never lose you // that’s the kind of heartbreak time could never mend // the lights are so bright but they never blind me // the fast times the bright lights // im lost in the lights // we were shaking blind and hazy // american glory faded before me // somewhere in the haze got the sense i’d been betrayed // they whisper in the hallway she’s a bad bad girl // and it took you five whole minutes to pack us up and leave me with it holdin' all this love out here in the hall // i couldn’t turn things around (you never turned things around) // you were standing hollow eyed in the hallway carnations you had thought were roses that’s us // running through rose thorns i saw the scoreboard and ran for my life // i lost you the one i was dancing with in new york, no shoes, looked up at the sky and it was maroon // there’s nothing like this, miss americana and the heartbreak prince // i packed my bags left cornelia street before you even knew i was gone // maybe i stormed out of every single room in this town // my winless fight this has frozen my ground // soldier down on that icy ground looked up at me with honor and truth // it’s like i’m wasting your honor // broken and blue so i called off the troops, that was the night i nearly lost you

i awake with your memory over me that’s a real fucking legacy to leave // i woke up just in time now i wake up by your side // there’s no morning glory in this war it wasn’t fair // then you called showed your hand turned around before i hit the tunnel sat on the roof you and i, i hope i never lose you // hold on to the memories they will hold onto you and i will hold on to you // and now the storm is coming // windows boarded up after the storm // i look through the windows of this love even though we boarded them up // i thought the plane was going down how’d you turn it right around // my baby’s fly like a jet stream // this love is worth the fight // it’s a war it’s the goddamn fight of my life // and i know this is a fight that some day we’re gonna win // we never painted by the numbers // we’re so sad we paint the town blue // you paint dreamscapes // were you standing in the hallway with a big cake happy birthday did i paint your blues skies the darkest grey // grey november // hey december // don’t want no other shade of blue but you // my hearts been borrowed and yours has been blue, alls well that ends well to end up with you // family that i chose // barefoot in the wildest winter // a red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground // im setting off but not without my muse, no not without you // candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor, you and me from the night before, don’t read the last page but i stay when you’re lost and i’m scared and you’re turning away i want your midnights but i’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year’s day

#**new and improved with typo fixes and new things #it paints a picture #it paints a SINGULARLY COMPLEX picture #kaylor #i feel like this is 45% of all the related lyrics 😆#like there are a bunch of songs i didnt think through that i assume have stuff #but i tried to focus on one story arc

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alsojnpie · 2 months

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It had never seemed necessary for Papyrus and I to nail down an exact meeting place. “At the park” was always enough for the two of us to find each other. And today, we found each other at the top of the white columned stairs. Well. I guess technically I found him.

It really seemed like he’d been waiting in that exact spot, knowing I was going to be walking that way. But he was watching in the wrong direction; his back turned to me as he waited, watching the stairs. Or maybe he was watching the fountain? Cool air wafted away from flowing water, which I could feel even from across this small plaza. He seemed like he was watching something. I slowed my pace, in order to get a good look at him before he could know that I was watching him.

He was sitting on the wall, leaning forward, with one foot propped up in front of him and the other flat on the ground. A half-eaten lime creamsicle was in his hand, his arm lazily draped over his raised knee.

I guess he must not have been waiting long at all, since he still had popsicle left. As if he was aware of my thoughts, he took a big bite right as I considered it. The wind blew more cool air our way, and ruffled the collar of his too-large shirt and the tall grass on the other side of the wall. I considered, just for a moment, that maybe I should stop walking altogether--just long enough to snap a photo of the picturesqueness of it all. He looked so thoughtful and serious, gazing out towards the lake. Juxtaposed with a popsicle full of lopsided bite marks, this scene was a perfect encapsulation of the monster that was Papyrus.

But I couldn’t. I didn’t have the guts. I didn’t even have the guts to disturb what looked like a satisfying reverie by calling out or otherwise making my presence known. Instead I awkwardly shuffled up to his side and moved to place my hand on his shoulder, but then second-guessed myself and thought, maybe I should tap it instead? It didn’t matter, since he startled and swiveled his head around before I could even decide.

“H...HEY!!” It was always fun to watch his face, and the clear progression of emotions that often played out. Right then it was shock at being approached by a stranger, which instantly gave way to shock at being approached by someone you love, which quickly melted into glee at having been tricked (with a hint of sheepishness for having been facing the wrong way).

“HEH, I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON YOUR WAY UP! WANT SOME?” The softened popsicle was extended towards me. Of course I wanted some, so I obliged him with a slurp that took care of a good half of what was left on the stick.

“..........” His disappointment was palpable, and my sudden guilt must have shown on my face too.

“WAIT, IT’S FINE. REALLY. I OFFERED IT TO YOU, SO...”

“Where’d you get that from, anyway? Do they sell those here??”

“THESE? THESE?? YOU KNOW THEY DON’T SELL THESE HERE! I HAD TO BRING IT WITH.” He gives a good slap to a bag I hadn’t noticed sitting next to him.

“.....They’ll melt.”

“THEY WON’T!”

“Hm. I didn’t know you had popsicle-cooling magic... Neat!” I reached down to the bag, eager for a popsicle of my own and curious about the cooling mechanism.

But the bag was swept away from my grasp, and Papyrus was shaking a finger at me. “YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO GO DIGGING IN MY MAGIC BAG.” He swung his leg over the wall, landing both feet firmly on the ground and standing up straight with an exaggerated gesture. “BUT I AM!” A bright red creamsicle was soon procured, unwrapped and thrust into my hands. I was suspicious of what sort of “magic” was keeping it cold, since it seemed to be already starting to soften, but couldn’t find the heart to complain about getting a treat.

Once Papyrus had started in on his second popsicle (orange this time), the two of us linked arms and began strolling towards the stairs overlooking the lake. From this vantage point, even more of the lake was visible, as well as the vague outline of paths surrounding it on the opposite side. This lake wasn’t particularly big, but it took almost half an hour to walk around a single lap. The paths were forested, at times so thickly that the lake couldn’t be seen, and that made them seem isolated, and longer than they really were. But all of it seemed so much smaller from up here even though it wasn’t that far away at all.

As we began making our way down the staircase, I bit the popsicle with my lips over my teeth then slurped up the melting ice cream inside. It cooled my face but warmed my heart. “You know, I didn’t even realize they still made these popsicles. I used to eat them a lot as a kid.”

“I, DON’T THINK THEY ACTUALLY DO?? YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT A PAIN I WENT THROUGH, TRYING TO FIND THEM!”

On the lake there wasn’t much visible from here other than a few small paddle boats, but as we got closer I could make out groups of kayakers who seemed to drift effortlessly by.

“IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN THAT LONG AGO THEY WERE DISCONTINUED. I REMEMBER EATING THEM TOO, BACK WHEN THE BARRIER WAS FIRST BROKEN.”

In reality, I knew that the riders were having to work hard to propel their boats forward through the water. I’d never been kayaking, but it had always looked like fun to me. Stealing a glance over at Papyrus, who was still going on about the popsicles, I wondered if it could be a good way to work out together with him, fully expecting that he’d be excellent at it.

Suddenly I realized that my popsicle was gone. “Oh hey...can I have a green one now?” I waved my popsicle stick, licked mostly clean, in front of Papyrus and he grimaced. “It’s been so long since I had these, I forgot how much I liked ‘em.”

“YES, I KNEW YOU HAD EXCELLENT TASTE. OF COURSE I WOULD LOVE TO FETCH YOU A GREEN ONE. BUT I’M NOT YOUR TRASH COLLECTOR! AND IF YOU STICK THAT...THAT STICKY THING IN THE BAG YOU MIGHT-- RUIN THE MAGIC OR SOMETHING!” He made a shooing gesture at my stick, which only made me want to wave it in his face even more. “GO FIND A GARBAGE CAN!”

Seeing as there were no garbage cans nearby, I stuck the stick into my jeans pocket, much to Papyrus’s dismay. But he forgave me enough to serve me a green popsicle after all. This popsicle was suspiciously much softer than the last. “Hey.....you’re not using magic at all, are you?” I squinted at him as almost the entirety of the lime popsicle shell sloughed off in my mouth. “.....*gulp*. You just packed a ton of popsicles and counted on being able to finish them off before they melted.”

Papyrus seemed to be watching the boats on the lake quite intently now but surely he was aware of my accusatory stare out of the corner of his eye. His stern expression twitched with a grin. “I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT."

"..........."

"BUT. I'LL ADMIT THAT IT’S A GOOD THING YOU’RE HERE, SO YOU CAN HELP ME EAT THEM ALL.”

“True. It’ll be a lot of work to finish them all before they melt.”

“WELL, DON’T GET ME WRONG! I COULD MANAGE IT.”

The path down the stairs was lined with shady trees, but the lake itself was surrounded by a sunny, open walkway. I had a feeling that no, he could not manage it. These popsicles were not going to last more than 10 minutes, tops. Even through our combined efforts, there would probably be a couple of melted treats. I slurped up most of the ice cream center as we walked across a platformed break in the stairs, eager to do my part either way.

But as we stepped down onto the stairs again, I saw something that made me jump in alarm: a wedding party! And their cameras were pointed straight up the picturesque stairs, right at us! Without even thinking, I pulled Papyrus by our linked arms, running back up to the platform before turning off onto a small dirt path running diagonal to the stairs.

The air was heavy and quiet as I pondered whether or not I had photobombed that bride and groom’s photoshoot. Probably so. Even though I hadn’t noticed it until we were very near, that was only because I hadn’t been paying attention. The pictures probably had us there in the background, though it wouldn’t have been very close to the subject. It was a public park, so I couldn’t really feel guilty for it, but even still, I didn’t want to be in some stranger’s wedding photos.

“.......” I wasn’t exactly sure why but suddenly things felt clumsy and awkward. I didn’t know what to say, or whether to say anything, and the little bit of popsicle I had left was completely forgotten. Slowly I turned my eyes up towards Papyrus only to find him calmly nibbling on a new popsicle (a red one now) while looking back in the direction of the couple.

“........HM. YOU THINK....YOU MIGHT WANT TO DO THAT SOMETIME? ME AND YOU?”

My heart, pounding, leapt straight to my throat, blocking out any words or sounds from coming through, while my grip on the popsicle stick tightened. Was this a joke?

No...he was genuinely asking me for an answer, I realized, as he looked down, smiling at me expectantly. But he looked so laid back about it. Somehow, we must have been thinking of two different things.

“U..uh....I, I mean....um...ho-honestly, I’m, I-I’ve.......you know...it feels embarrassing somehow to b-be...honest...but....” My words got quieter as my face got hotter. I went to take a giant bite of the popsicle to cool down, but what had been left of it had already melted and ran down into my fist.

“HANG ON....OH MY GOD......ARE YOU SCARED OF BEING OUT ON THE WATER???” His suddenly concerned face only confused me even more.

“WAAAAIT, WAIT WAIT WAIT...” Papyrus took a brief look around himself, which at first I took to mean that he was checking to see if anyone was around. But maybe he was looking for a place to hold his popsicle because the next thing he did was quickly suck the whole thing directly off the stick (swallowing it dutifully rather than savoring it, and tossing the stick to the ground), before placing his thick-gloved hands squarely on my shoulders, and leaning in close.

His worried frown was right in front of my face, much closer than it usually happened to be. I tried to listen to him instead of focusing on his features, but it was hard. I hadn’t had this chance to be so close before. His voice wasn’t...quiet... but, it was softer than I expected.

“IT’S OK TO BE SCARED OF THAT. PERFECTLY OK. DON’T....DON’T BE EMBARRASSED. WE DON’T HAVE TO--”

Suddenly everything clicked in my mind. Our eyes met. “To...go kayaking together....?”

“YES. EXACTLY. WE DON’T HAVE TO GO KAYAKING TOGETHER. I’VE NEVER DONE IT MYSELF, BUT....WELL...WHEN I SAW THOSE LITTLE BOATS ON THE BIG LAKE....” He smiled softly, sheepishly even. “I THOUGHT IT LOOKED LIKE FUN.”

Actually, it did sound fun. Really fun. I returned his smile, shyly, even though he didn’t seem to completely understand that look, and grasped his hand, pulling it to my chest confidingly.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be too scary....if we were together.”

Sorrowfully, Papyrus shook his head. “THE KAYAK IS A BOAT THAT ONLY FITS ONE PERSON, I’M AFRAID.”

“I meant. Together, in our own boats. Side by side on the water.”

“OH. SURE. YES! I’LL STICK RIGHT BY YOU!!” His grin was nothing short of triumphant.

Then he noticed my hand, clasping his.

“ ............YECCCK!! WHY ARE YOU SO STICKY?!?!?!”

#hi hello i felt like writing (it's 2000 words)#unfortunately the only thing i ever feel like writing anymore is hyper specific s.inserrt stuff ehehehehehe #but i......really really miss this perfect park #and walking down the stairs always made me think of him #and one day i almost photo bombed some wedding photos on accident and it made me think of this #i wrote most of this in early summer 2022 but just couldn't fit the pieces together until suddenly they clicked in my mind last night #but even since then i totally forgot what ending i'd thought up hehehehe this one is a bit abrupt but i like the silliness of it #i wanted to take a bunch of pictures of this staircase and this park so i could put it to this story but it totally slipped my mind #if i ever go back one day I'd love to take my own picture (i just found this one through image search)

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oldfashionedmorphine · 9 months

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Chapter 20…

——————

“Mike?”

He shivers, goosebumps erupting all over his skin again, and he keeps his eyes drawn upward as he replies, “Yeah?”

There’s hesitation in Will’s voice, “So back then… did… did you… did you ever… like me? Y’know, as more than… more than a best friend should?”

——————

tagging: @across-thestars @boahey @magentamee @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @greenfiend @rebellius @booksandpaperss @castelobyers @total-serene560 @wheelersboy @sparks-olivarpente @hazmatazz @suzieburself @unrepentant-byler-shipper @mandycantdecide @robin-therobber @foodiewithdahoodie @embarrassing-nerd (if you want to be added or removed, let me know!)

#words cannot describe the amount of suffering i went through to write this #at one point i wanted to vomit from the emotional overload #idk how yall are gonna react to this… but as the writer who spent hours and hours reworking scenes and struggling #it was quite a rollercoaster #i hope you enjoy it because it’s exactly what i pictured it would be in my head #and this isn’t the end… there’s still a bit more story to tell #but we are nearing the end #iawwyh #byler fanfic #byler fanfiction

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ako142 · 1 year

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Enid and Wednesday having a movie night. Because you CAN'T tell me that Enid "Wears pink in every outfit" Sinclair did not try to get Wednesday to watch Legally Blonde with her. Thing is just there for the Vibes.

#wednesday #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #wednesday x enid #legally blonde #and they were roommates #digital art #gay people #my art #this was nice to draw i wanted to tell a lil story wth the picture so i hope it came through

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ofsunhillow · 2 months

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Rick Wakeman (with the English Rock Ensemble) at the Luna Park, Argentina, touring for his album 1984 (1981)

#rick wakeman #guys holy fuckinv shit. i was at a thrift fair at the train station #and my friends looking through casettes at a stand so im looking around and this fucking thing is on the wall #like #theres just #an unlabeled random picture of rick whom i somehow instantly recognize.#and we ask the owner and hes like yeah i took that picture i was front row #and then we talked for a while <3 i didnt get his name #my friend got to show him the vinyl hed gottenliyerally an hour ago at another stand #rhapsodies...... well. rapsodias #but i had to post anyways bevause nobody has seen this picture before.#and you have to now.#and you also have to know the story.

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quaranmine · 3 months

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firewatch au is an interesting story because mumbo is such an omnipresent non-character. it doesn't matter if i characterize him correctly or not, because his character isn't ever present to exert change in the story. the only thing that does matter is grian's rosy, absence-defined ideals about who his best friend was. every single thing we learn about mumbo is filtered through like 12 different layers of love and grief and denial until he's on a pedestal so high nobody can see the truth. his character is almost solely defined by what someone else says about him.

in doing this, grian also inadvertantly strips away all the little mistakes and mishaps that are part of mumbo's agency and part of him being a real person until he's perfect. and all this idolization ends up making it worse for grian in the end, because he actively avoids engaging in any theories that suggest mumbo might have made a mistake or gone astray. there's clear dissonance between reality—grian knows mumbo got lost and is searching for him—and the way grian lashes out at anyone who suggests something that clashes with the perfect ideal of mumbo in his head, including getting lost. mumbo should be a character in his own story, but grian won't let him be.

instead he wraps his desire to find mumbo into a weird sort of side quest where he's just as interested in finding someone else to blame as he is finding mumbo. he spends the same amount of time trying to figure out exactly where it all went wrong during the search as he does actually searching for mumbo—even after he knows the general area mumbo was last in! it's a puzzle and he can't put anything to rest until he solves it. he's trying to force logic into everything so he can cope with it. because if he doesn't find someone or something to blame, then he has to face the reality that sometimes things just don't make sense. if it makes sense, he can solve it and fix it. if it doesn't make sense...then he just has to live with it, and he doesn't think he can.

#fw au drinking game! take a shot every time grian says something abt Knowing mumbo or makes a bold statement of what mumbo would/wouldnt do #his mindset is so contradictory at certain points. a lot of what he says doesnt make total sense or falls apart under scrutiny.#and that's on purpose! grian is not a reliable narrator in this fic. he's a guy who is Going Through It who needs help.#theres several parts of the fic where he's so logical about things that it loops back into being illogical #cause he's got huge blindspots he can't/won't look around. he selectively excludes things he doesnt want to think about.#this story is more of a study on grief than it is a mystery :(#also dont get me wrong! i am not saying grian is Always incorrect in his characterization of mumbo. they Were besties ofc #it's just that you have to read everything he says about mumbo with the acknowledgement that his grief #has smoothed away every flaw or painfully human bit #and only left a certain limited picture of mumbo left #combine that with his intense desire to only see things that fit within his set beliefs? you've got a recipe for an unreliable narrator #hc_firewatch_au

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