#undertoe

[shoechoe]

whenever someone posts long threads of something very specific about a fictional character i'm not interested in my first instinct is always to go "whoa i think you're reading too deep into this haha" but then i remember like... everything about myself

#why is this my first instinct when i literally do this #'why are you writing an 11k post analyzing every tiny aspect of giorno and fugo's relationship for romantic underto- wait.' #rambles #short posts

[delosdestinations]

"We wanted to make a show about consciousness; the kind of boastful ambition that works when you're pitching--and then falls apart when you find yourself trying to figure it out. There were few guides. Philosophers who'd lost their tenure. Computer scientists who'd lost their stock options. Guesses. Expletives. Crackpot theories. Hands wrung or simply thrown in the air. Even now, humans know more about what lies at the bottom of a supermassive black hole than the dark center of our minds.

But there are clues: language, semiotics; the distance between the notions rattling around in our minds and the ways in which we share them, and the ways in which humans share ideas between each other.

There's a language older than language, though. One that predates the written word or even the spoken one. Music. Its effects on people are fascinating--raw, direct, like an older interface that bypasses the newer, clunkier inputs. What music may lack in nuance versus spoken language, it more than gains in emotive power, as if transmitting emotion directly into the brain. If a picture is worth a thousand words, the right chord progression might reach nine figures.

So for our series about consciousness, we knew the music would be vital--and that we had the man for the job. Fittingly, Ramin's journey as a composer had been launched, in part, by Elmer Bernstein's achingly brilliant theme for The Magnificent Seven. Here he got to take a detour into the future in order to find his way back to the West.

He wanted to use guitars. We wanted piano (because the player piano had been the original western robot) and he gamely went along. I remember the themes as they came alive, anointing each character, imbuing them with even more depth and power. The craft and performances that came together for the series were all hard won--Ramin's music hooked everything to an undertoe of menace, melancholy and beauty.

As for Ramin's arrangements of contemporary music, they served two purposes; first, as a gentle reminder that our story was being told in the future tense, not the past. And second, as manipulation. If music is evocative, then music you've heard before takes on another dimension, dipping into circuits of lived experience and harnessing their power. A song you've listened to after a triumph or a breakup--even one rendered in a different timbre or arrangement--still has a grip on you. One that Ramin could pluck at, like the strings on his guitar. We spent four seasons exploring these questions and the closest we came to understanding consciousness--at least the variety that afflicts humans--is that any attempt to explain it without incorporating emotion is pointless.

The show is long since over. But I find myself whistling Ramin's timeless theme. Often. And I smile. That's the power of this music: that the indelible experiences of making Westworld, all of the incredible people who were part of it, all the days spent chasing the sun and capturing it on film, can all be conjured, instantly, in 8 perfectly chosen notes.

Westworld never died. It simply became music."

Jonathan Nolan, Executive Producer Liner Notes from Westworld: Season 4 (Music from the HBO Series) Vinyl

#westworld #jonathan nolan #news #? #figured I'd share this for anyone interested #it was included with the recent s4 vinyl release #and I'm sad again 🥲

[confused-robot-cat]

If you want Pokémon with blood and nuclear fallout, watch My Daemon on Netflix If you want Pokémon with death and humour play Yo-Kai Watch If you want Pokémon with guns, disturbing undertoe, and more traditional JRPG tropes, go for Digimon If you want shit Pokémon done by Americans go for Monster Hunter There's just So much to choose from already Palworld is just ai generated shite and I don't get the hype

#pokemon with guns #palworld

[phantom-feline-teeth]

Pacing around like a tiger in a cage

What am I to do with all this rage?

What am I to do with all this rage?

My friends and family don’t know

What to do with me

In this healing stage

I make a fool of myself

The emotions come up like waves

Taking me into the undertoe

I can’t believe it all happened over 20 years ago

The memories haunt me everyday

“Merry Christmas!”

Says the tv

I snarl my large teeth in agony

I am all but a wounded animal

Pacing around like a tiger in the zoo

I feel like a spectacle, there’s nothing more I can do

I bare my teeth and lash my claws

When all I gotta do is take myself by the paws

Pause

Breathe

Show myself some compassion

I will break free from this zoo in my mind

Beyond just makeup and fashion

I am powerful, I am loved, I am safe 🧡

#psychological therian #tiger therian #ptsd survivor #trauma anniversary #poetry

[sleepychaoticentity]

I'm back! Which is to say that I haven't forgotten I'm doing this (a miracle). Y'know what maybe it hasn't actually been as long as I thought it's been since I last did one of these. Although that one was prewritten. Hmmm.

Anyways *jazz hands*. You still get no context on this au. And if you are one of the people who has context on this au how did you find me? We do not share blorbos.

~~~

Xisuma seemed to be about ready to release the hermits back to their chaos and then he said, "Ah, and I believe before we end our meeting for the week Grian wanted to say something."

You don't have to say anything. Came the thought, before Grian said anything, and before Xisuma was even finished speaking.

As he stood anyone could see his anxiety. He looked squished where he was normally- well if not large he was standing tall. His hands were occupied with a fidget cube that, as Xisuma had called his name, he had started fidgeting with the slightest bit faster. He took a deep breath and he finally looked up at everyone.

“Well I have officially been with you guys, the Hermits that is, for four years and well. I know- I know plenty well that I would never have to disclose anything to everyone so long as, well so long as it didn’t put anyone else in danger and. Well, anyway I uh wanted to be honest, perfectly transparent even, about- well about what I am?" He freezes, understanding G's warning with perfect clarity. "Which, well looking at me you’d say, ‘well Grian obviously you’re a player,’ but that’s so vague and frankly not even entirely true-" and Grian's wings pop out, too glowy and iridescent to be anything natural, "I am actually a Watcher. The- the circumstances aren’t, well, necessary-”

“Aren’t necessary?” From across the room, just out of Zed’s sight line, Tango has apparently gone from ‘bored of the meeting’ to ‘literally hot-headed’. Of the hermits he can see most of them look surprised. He can even see that Etho’s eyebrows are raised. “You’re telling us that you’re a world destroying being and that we’ve allowed you to just roam freely and wreak havoc,” Impulse and Doc give him downright incredulous looks at this, “for four years?!”

“No, Tango I-”

His hair erupts- he slams his hands on the table- Impulse and Doc finally stand up, they start dragging him out and he’s screaming, he’s yelling something but none of the sounds are reaching his temporal lobe. He looks to Grian who is as pale as Zedaph- as anyone has ever probably seen him, Scar and Mumbo are comforting him as he stares at where Tango was, shaking in his seat. The hermits are shifting their focus from the spectacle that Tango made of himself to Grian. 

Xisuma, ever vigilant and ever caring for all of his hermits spoke before anyone else could. “Grian.” His gaze shifts and Xisuma continues, “Do you have anything else to say or would you like everyone to leave now?”

Grian takes his time, clearly thinking, and everyone gives him time. Xisuma’s hand rests next to his arm, as close to touching him for his attention as he gets. Before he can turn to look at him though Grian speaks up. “I just.” His voice is just barely above a whisper. “All I need to know is if anyone else’s opinion on me has changed. Just if anyone else is- is angry or- or hates me.”

No one says anything.

“No Grian. We all still love you just the same.”

He visibly shudders after Xisuma says that, and just breathes for a few moments. Grian's head meets the table, and Scar says, "Ok, G-Man's about peopled out now. Xisuma?"

Xisuma makes his hand known again as he says, "Alright then everyone. That's the end of our meeting this week. I of course can always be contacted to talk about today meetings as well as next weeks, however I will have to ask that we do that elsewhere as I'm sure no one wants to be here any longer. Back to your regular chaos my friends."

Everyone begins to stand and leave, those nearest offering Grian a few words, and before he can move to join them Xisuma turns to him and asks in an undertone, "Are you alright?"

He thinks for a moment and says, "Just peachy, Xisuma! I do rather fancy a nap for this afternoon though." Xisuma smiles and releases him without a fuss.

"Grian," he says when they meet up later, "were you ready to do that?"

"Oh absolutely not." He replies. "I could’ve gone another year at least without Doc looking at me like a lab experiment." He holds up his still shaking hand. "And uh Tango was frankly a tad bit worse to experience than I thought he was going to be."

Zed isn't entirely sure what his face does but it causes Grian to adopt this unbearably soft- perhaps even besotted- look on his face and move his hand from extended between them to touching his cheek and before he can speak and make it worse Zed asks him, Why did you do it then?

"Because you were." Is his immediate and breathtakingly kind answer. He knows this time, that his face turns doubtful, because he is as such. Grian's other hand comes up to his other cheek and he says, "You are."

He says it with such conviction that he almost believes him on the spot and then he continues, "You have been for quite a while Zedaph. The only thing holding you back was not knowing Tango's reaction."

The reminder of his friends explosive reaction had him cringing, almost out of his friends hold until Grian's arms were suddenly around his back and he was saying, "Which-" I will let you know as soon as he pulls his head out of his ass, with a little scribble almost of Tango looking like a doused cat.

The image pulls a giggle out of him and he asks, Do you really think that he will?

He will. Grian says. I know he will, and he adds an impression of a scribble of him holding an empty water bucket over Tango's head. This brings full-on snickers out of him, and he snickers right up until he realizes that Grian just told the whole server he was a Watcher for him.

He put aside his own fears to assuage Zed's singular fear and before he knows it he is no longer snickering but sobbing into Grian's shoulder and sending as many desperate thank you's to him as he coherently can. Grian manages the emotional/thought equivalent of a weighted blanket over his thank you's, and he tightens his hold on him and everything is right with the world for a little while.

They stand there for a while, Zed crying and Grian holding him. Until Grian ruins the moment by whispering, "So I don't suppose you'd pay for the dry cleaning for my sweater?" and they both crack up.

He is unfathomably grateful that Grian is in his life in the manner that he is.

#grian #zedaph #queerplatonic relationship #xisuma #tango #impulsesv #docm77 #mumbo #watcher grian #watcher zed #gtws #aadtd au #sleep writes #Yeah #ok listen #tangos kind of a shithead rn and that part will definitely get rewritten #but i promise #he does remove his head from his ass #he just has some internal biases from growing up cinder that he needs to get over #and he will #ok i think thats all i have to say #pls reblog #I want to drag more people into my brainrot

[bellasauruss]

It would be interesting if Manta( Fathom’s mom) had an animus sister who split away from the Seawing royal family so that she could get revenge against those who wronged her father( Lagoon, Sapphire, Fathom). I came up with the name Petrel. She had dragonets while away from the Sea Kingdom, and she passed on her ideology through her family that animus dragons shouldn’t hide themselves, and that those who thinks they’re dangerous are terrible dragons who think they can tell others who they should be(ironically). Anyways, the current descendant of Petrel is UnderToe, who lives in an underground saltwater cave system under Pyrrhia, who along with his family and clan( called “The Anglers”), have one mission:

To revive the DarkStalker.

That sounds like some cool oc stuff! Go run and have fun with that :0

[leafians]

had two undertoes (4 shots total) at work. my shift is only half over and im gonna shit myeelf

#yes i work at coffee shop #no i dont usually have that much espresso so 4 is a lot for me

[0w0]

The hardest part of post psych BPD\cptsd diagnosis brain, is being hyper aware of how aware you are that you have no naturally occurring personality or interests of your own. I'm also aware I'm being hyperbolic and know that later, when I'm done drowning in a 7 layer dip of my own self-inflicted thought downward spiral, that I'll think back on how irrational I was and how scary it is that I do this to myself. But wait! When you recollect on your previous thought spirals, there's a high likelyhood that you'll just trigger another one by thinking about what a mentally ill piece of shit you are :)

Like, even when I'm happy its undertoed by an incessant white noise that's bad enough to make me chronically suicidal.

And then there are times I'm REALLY FUCKING blissful, even the white noise isn't there. I can exist in the moment most times, but sometimes it just triggers an adverse reaction to the ephemera of it. Because it wont, it will never last.

The only constant in my life has been my own misery, mostly self inflicted. I'm established, FOR REAL, with proper outpatient care. But god, I'm just afraid it's too late.

Ive been lashing out more because I don't have the energy to mask, I've been high more frequently because is dulls the drone, and I'm fighting so many fucking impulses to keep from making things worse.

My skin is crawling and I just want to burn. I feel infested.

And, as I wrote this I came down from a splitting episode. I Do think I'm being over dramatic, I know I am. But when I'm in the moment it doesn't matter.

#smear campaign #actually BPD

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Plow Under

To renew the land, plow the land. To destroy the land, do nothing. —Druids' saying

Artist: Rob Alexander TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

#mtg #magic the gathering #tcg #$0.45 #rob alexander #plow under #world championship decks 2004 #sorcery

[wilysigma]

UNDERTOE

[blacktinnedpeaches]

watching that new netflix lady chatterley's lover (i dont really care for the story honestly, not hugely my bag but i quite like jack o connell) + remembering that weird episode that made me feel sort of... fairly confident my mum had a thing w/ one of her farmer friends? while married to my dad obvs

i was snooping + my mum got a message so i read it + it was from an unsaved number w/ very romantic undertoness, i think there were kisses (not in the normal british way tho) so i just asked her who it was + if she was having an affair + she got cross w/ me + i think she denied it but uh we never spoke about it again after that like 30 second conversation lol, i doubt she even remembers it happened. this was at least 5 years ago, maybe 10. it was an odd little happenstance that i dont exactly know what to make of. my parents are still married + seem perfectly fine

anyway im pretty sure i know who it was bc literally since i was a kid she's had a slight spark in her eyes whenever this specific farmer guy comes up - like since i was a child i've thought "my mum fancies that dude" (his name is david btw). never said anything to her about it - i just knew, and id stake my life on it to this day. she used to take the dog on walks around his land and never hid this or anything.

and anyway the reason i am rememering this now is bc i forgot lady chatterley's titular lover is called "mellors" and that's how my dad always used to refer to david (in a good-natured way). this didn't really occur to me until later bc i've never actually read the book but: what the fuck does THAT mean lol

i have questions that persist to this day + i dont think ill ever get an answer

a) was my mum fucking him w/o my dad's knowledge - hence unsaved number b) was he actually entirely aware of it - hence "mellors"? c) was it emotional only? d) was it (most alarmingly of all) some entirely different dude that i accidentally discovered

#theories please

[kenobussy]

I get that its supposed to be a joke but i fucking hate seeing vids of drag queens reacting in ~ shock and horror ~ when a woman like. Doesn't know how to walk in stilettos or some shit. It's so fucking grating bc its always with the underto e of omg she doesnt know how to Do Woman Things!!!!! as well as this drag queen does

[matthew-pasquarello]

in the ground full of candles. parchment must burn. get rid of the evidence. sink into the undertoe and like it. i am alone now, but later i will not and the poetry will be distracted by the chitter-chatter of cardboard boxes. i sure wish they would learn sign language. i am losing hope. rip up the porno rug and see the fresh floorboards beneath, with a million stories of suffocation. this will be interesting. in the midst of a headache i do my best work. you should see the paintings with only three colors, bound to the back of a sketchbook like prairie dogs when the vultures are circling overhead. pretend you know me and speak fluent Boston Accent. 

#poetry #lit #poem #poems #writing #creative writing #alt lit #words #art #prose

[giuseppebonaccorso]

Ocean

Explore the ocean of emotions concealed in this poem written in Copacabana. Existential questions and answers that resonate with the undertow of the sea.

#art #poetry #literature #poetrycommunity #poetrylovers #psychology #existentialism #ocean #copacabana

[ryanginger85]

Westworld. "We wanted to make a show about consciousness; the kind of boastful ambition that works when you're pitching--and then falls apart when you find yourself trying to figure it out. There were few guides. Philosophers who'd lost their tenure. Computer scientists who'd lost their stock options. Guesses. Expletives. Crackpot theories. Hands wrung or simply thrown in the air. Even now , humans know more about what lies at the bottom of a supermassive black hole than the dark center of our minds.

But there are clues: language, semiotics; the distance between the notions rattling around in our minds and the ways in which we share them, and the ways in which humans share ideas between each other.

There's a language older than language, though. One that predates the written word or even the spoken one. Music. Its effects on people are fascinating--raw, direct, like an older interface that bypasses the newer, clunkier inputs. What music may lack in nuance versus spoken language, it more than gains in emotive power, as if transmitting emotion directly into the brain. If a picture is worth a thousand words, the right chord progression might reach nine figures.

So for our series about consciousness, we knew the music would be vital--and that we had the man for the job. Fittingly, Ramin's journey as a composer had been launched, in part, by Elmer Bernstein's achingly brilliant theme for The Magnificent Seven. Here he got to take a detour into the future in order to find his way back to the West.

He wanted to use guitars. We wanted piano (because the player piano had been the original western robot) and he gamely went along. I remember the themes as they came alive, anointing each character, imbuing them with even more depth and power. The craft and performances that came together for the series were all hard won--Ramin's music hooked everything to an undertoe of menace, melancholy and beauty.

As for Ramin's arrangements of contemporary music, they served two purposes; first, as a gentle reminder that our story was being told in the future tense , not the past. And second, as manipulation. If music is evocative, then music you've heard before takes on another dimension, dipping into circuits of lived experience and harnessing their power. A song you've listened to after a triumph or a breakup--even one rendered in a different timbre or arrangement--still has a grip on you. One that Ramin could pluck at, like the strings on his guitar. We spent four seasons exploring these questions and the closest we came to understanding consciousness--at least the variety that afflicts humans--is that any attempt to explain it without incorporating emotion is pointless.

The show is long since over. But I find myself whistling Ramin's timeless theme. Often. And I smile. That's the power of this music: that the indelible experiences of making Westworld, all of the incredible people who were part of it, all the days spent chasing the sun and capturing it on film, can all be conjured, instantly, in 8 perfectly chosen notes.

Westworld never died. It simply became music."

--Johnathan Nolan, Executive Producer

[hotguynextdoor2]

“I open the office door, which led to a stairwell and was hit with a wall of cigar stink mingled with the smell of crabs from the restaurant next door. There was something else there too: my father’s cologne. Trimper’s West Inidian Extract of Limes. I’d smelled it now and then on my client’s fathers over the years, and it alwaus struck pain into mu heart.“

Pg 58, of Chapter 16, 2 Sisters Detective Agency by J Patterson, C Fox

.

In a tiny office above the crab restaurant, my father’s desk sagged under a three-foot-high pile of papers, books, take out containers, and unopened UPS packages as well as scrunched gambling tickets and reciepts, all sprinkled with cigar butts and ass.”

Page 59, ^ same book

.

Jamie, my boy! Candice, my friend! How are you killing it this hard??? I could honestly drown myself in these descriptions *chiefs kiss* There aren’t a ton that strike a cord with me but these sent my little heart soaring!

How do people do this?

I get practice but for real? HOW!???

Sure, you can write a well-written descriptive text but do you feel it in yue bones. Does it make you smell the crab, kick the trash undertoe or feel the character’s aching heart?

It brings me close to tears sometimes reading this shit, man. It’s too much TvT

#fiction #guy talks #2 sisters