People on the side of The People always ended up disappointed, in any case. They found that The People tended not to be grateful or appreciative or forward-thinking or obedient. The People tended to be small-minded and conservative and not very clever and were even distrustful of cleverness. And so, the children of the revolution were faced with the age-old problem: it wasn't that you had the wrong kind of government, which was obvious, but that you had the wrong kind of people.
As soon as you saw people as things to be measured, they didn't measure up.
Terry Pratchett, Night Watch
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I always feel like I want to make a full illustration when I'm as far away from my art supplies as possible and when I'm at home I can't draw
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sometimes i think about narnia and i vibrate out of my skin like...
you walk into a world you cannot understand, frozen and dying, and it is you who thaws it. you who kills the witch, you who breaks the stone table, you who slays the wolf. it is you who is crowned and it is you who wails for two worlds when the wardrobe doors shut behind you.
your skin never sits quite right and your teeth are too dull. there are wars in your bones and decades in your eyes before you can reach the telephone on the wall.
you are king. you are queen. they won't let you read the newspapers at breakfast.
it calls you back from beyond a train and from within paint. begs with bloody palms and salt-crusted cheeks. takes from you all that you can give - and sends you back.
you watch your sister fade.
you are a child twice and an adult once. and when you stand in your home again, with crushed bones and the smell of coal still in your nose, you watch them sneer at your sister.
your sister is the sun above you. she is, beautiful and stone-cast, alive in a world you could never stomach. she smiles, still, and stretches her skin over human bones.
she is no longer a friend of narnia. do you tell them it is her who has to bury you all and the stars that are falling from the skies in shards?
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SO I'm going through hollow knight for the fourth time ha ha
Besides, I've re-read the "Stag Beetles and Broken Legs" fan fiction again, so it's time to humanize Monomon and Quirrell!
(seriously, read "Stag Beetles and Broken Legs", it's damn good)
In my conception, Monomon is the oldest of the Dreamers, but she's actively youthful, wearing such light clothing and acting quite active compared to her scowling counterparts (However, she also looks younger than her years on her face, so no one has any questions about it)
And young Quirrell, haha. So young and inspired, with burning eyes. Cute. Time has not bypassed him (though it's even better for some-). At least now he's age appropriate for Monomon
I can redraw my old concepts in more detail if you like my humanizations. I can also draw humaneizations of other characters if you ask (or more Lurien….. I like to draw his face…… gentle rose…….)
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people can keep coming up with angsty headcanons about why qPac passes out (crashes) so much- like he's got low blood pressure from not eating properly or he's exhausted from not sleeping properly- and I accept that
but to me he's just that one character in a kids movie that keeps getting injured as a gag. like he's just constantly tripping over roots and whacking his head off the ground, birds just constantly seem to drop rocks specifically on his head, people just keep inexplicably slamming doors into his face without realising it. qPac is just such a cartoon character to me I'm sorry
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does anybody want to help me develop my transgender moon witch story. kissie btw
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Margo opened the file and closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before flipping up through the pages as she had earlier that day. The post-it. She had almost convinced herself it had been a dream, a sudden madness, but there it was just as she remembered it and her heart once again skipped a beat. Sergei’s handwritten equation called to her comfortingly like an old friend.
Careful not to bend or curl it too much, she lifted it from the page and held the equation between her fingers, feeling the grooves of the figures made by the pressure of his hand through the pen. She recalled the gentle yet urgent pressure of those same hands on her face, her neck, her body, and a heated flush climbed out of her memory and up over her chest and neck. Shocked by the intensity of the feeling ten years on and after everything that had passed between, she started, her back straightening as she willed herself back into the moment and to the task at hand.
Replacing the post-it on the page, Margo set about solving for Sergei’s message.
It wasn’t long before she had a time and a location… This is a secret place for you?
Frank’s was adjacent to 11:59, she’d had many a hurried meal there before or after a set over her years with the house band. At least until the club closed up well over a decade prior in the years following the Apollo-Soyuz broadcast. Soyuz-Apollo…
Did he truly want to unearth their meager past? Surely he must have moved on by now?
She had forgiven him years ago. Mourned what might have been. God knew he must have done the same, believing along with everyone that she had died with her colleagues. Wildly she wondered if he had shared a memorial borscht with his family in their honor, in hers? She’d eaten a lot of borscht that first fall in Moscow, learning the true meaning of cold before winter had even officially started. Her nightly memorials did little to warm the chill of grief. She shifted in her chair and swallowed down the old guilt that rose like bile in her throat at thoughts of the bombing.
She had to get up, had to move, shift her weight, her perspective.
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I often think about all the people who were forced to go through their periods before reliable painkillers were invented. I just had period cramps so bad, I was frantically googling ‘how to tell the difference between period cramps, ovarian cysts, and a cute appendicitis’ while waiting for the painkillers to kick in and trying not to throw up from the pain. And how period cramps were probably the least of their problems. Absolutely insane. How did we survive as a species.
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Honestly, Eddie and Chrissy are probably the most wholesome, innocent, least problematic ship I've ever shipped in my whole dang shipping history, so the fact that it still gets ridiculous hate for simply existing just cracks me up.
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