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sophiamcdougall · 4 months

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You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you. I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age." -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.

#ukpol #uk politics #fuck the tories #lost media #data loss #cultural vandalism

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queenimmadolla · 2 years

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CAUGHT PANTS DOWN

(young parents!eddie munson x reader fluff)

more dad!ddie, mom!reader and penny adventures can be found on my masterlist

summary: Eddie catches you pantsing your 7 month old baby.

warnings: fluff! 20y/o reader, 21y/o Eddie, young parents!

a/n: just a little thing based on a tiktok I saw yesterday that I immediately had to write about, it was so adorable and I knew it was something reader would do (because I am also reader and I want to do it). not beta’d, but happy reading! let me know what you think and if you’ve submitted prompts about the pennyverse *rubs hands like a fly* i’m working on them and thank you so much! now I don’t even have to write a separate work about it, I’m just going to wait for someone or something to prompt me to post the moment and make a Pennyverse directory!

You were staring at her; Penny, your 7-month old daughter, had managed to pull herself up, using the dresser mounted into the wall to steady herself. She clutched onto that same open, bottom drawer with a chubby, dimpled hand as the other lazily rooted inside, through its contents.

Bonding with her—or rather the idea of her—while she had been in your tummy proved to be a challenge for you. You’d been fully aware you were growing a human being, but connecting that human being to being your daughter; trying to establish a relational bond, was tasking! You had talked to your bump, felt her kick under your palm where it lay resting over your protruding stomach, but the wow factor never morphed into something of motherly adoration.

Not until you actually met her. Penny had become your little best friend and you loved (as well as despised) to see her grow and advance. Your little baby had gone from needing to be carried everywhere to attempting to crawl! She couldn’t get very far before she’d tire and slump face first into the ground, her little diaper covered booty just slightly in the air, but she was still growing and learning. You had watched as she crawled her way from the living room to the bedroom. She’d taken a breather in the doorway before the slightly open dresser drawer caught her attention, and as expected of a curious baby; Penny had decided invading your privacy was to be her top priority. She looked so dang cute doing it, too. Penny had been laying down on her back before she had decided to make another go of crawling, so the short curls on the back of her head were flattened while the rest of it was doing whatever it wanted. She was wearing a onesie with an adorable pair of baby sweats on. You’d seen baby clothes before you had even been pregnant, obviously, but they were always just baby clothes to you back then. Now, they were baby clothes; cute little miniature versions of what adults wore! And yes, you did make sure her outfits matched yours more often than not. When she wasn’t matching you, she was wearing something with a sickeningly cute punny phrase relating to baby stuff, or she was dressed like Eddie (that was actually your favorite to see). But those damn sweats. She looked so cute in them, you almost couldn’t stand it. There was one, strange thought you had about them, though. An intrusive one, if you will. You’d been at war with it from the moment she stood up, and with a shrug you crawled forward, trying to remain as quiet as possible so as to not draw her attention to you.

Once you were close enough, you gripped the sides of her little sweats and tugged them down, quickly backing up as she slowly became aware of what you’d done. You couldn’t stop grinning as she abandoned messing up Eddie’s socks; dropping a pair, in favor of slowly and clumsily reaching down to grip the hem of her sweatpants. You heard the musical sound of Eddie’s laughter and twisted around to see him watching the two of you, leaning against the doorway of the bedroom with his arms crossed as his shoulder shook. “Did you just pants our daughter?” A hand reached up to hide your smile as you giggled into your palm, feeling giddy at having been caught. You glanced back at Penny and nearly fell forward with the force of your laughter as you realized she was trying to awkwardly pull her sweatpants back up in place, she still didn’t have very good motor skills.

You knew she couldn’t really feel embarrassed yet, but you felt like she should have been.

Once you’d calmed down, you managed to chuckle out, “I totally got her!”

Eddie couldn’t control his laughter at the sight of her, either. Snickering, he made his way over to the two of you and crouched as he pulled her pants up for her but it didn’t look like she cared about that anymore, her drool covered mouth parting in delight at the sight of her daddy; her savior in this case. “Aw, is mommy bullying my little baby girl? That’s not very nice of her, huh?” It didn’t sound very sincere of him, considering he was still giggling about it. He leaned further down to press a kiss to her soft, very chunky cheek with enough force to have her plump little lips almost forming an ‘o’. You leaned forward to kiss her other cheek, effectively smushing her face together and creating the desired expression.

Penny had been momentarily confused, maybe shocked before she decided she liked it, cooing in delight and when you pulled away, she followed, little arms reaching out to you as you let her fall into yours; obviously seeking more affection, “That’s what she gets, that used to be my title and she’s not supposed to be opening drawers in the first place!”

“She does nothing wrong, ever.”

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f0xgl0v3 · 8 days

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How does one Elias Bouchard hold his Pipe/The overall murder scene

Tw this like entire post is about the proper way to hold a pipe if you wanna effectively hit someone with it several times repeatedly :3 also spoilers for MAG 80

Guys I am simply a writer and this is just for writing and thought experiment purposes, none of this shall or should be applied to real life and it’s just for the haha extended sounds of brutal pipe murder-

What has come to my life-? I’m talking about Elias Bouchard and how he holds the Pipe to murder people- I, there will be actual Percy Jackson stuff soon. Maybe talking about Camp Jupiter and armor and gear and stuff or something however,

Everyone draws Elias with really weird hand positions on the pipe-? That’s a weird thing to say and the art is fantastic but if your beating someone with a Pipe then there seems to be a way I always thought in my head-

Let’s, for the sake that I’m halfway through season 4 consider the only Pipe murder I am currently aware of would be Jurgen Leitner’s, we can work with this. Elias is standing over him at the other side of a desk while Jurgen is seated I believe-? There are a couple ways we can go about this,

1) Elias hits him while they both are in the neutral position at the desk

2) Elias walks over to Jurgen’s side during the conversation and hits him then

3) Jurgen stands up from his chair and then Elias hits him.

I have had to listen to the sound clip so many times for this- I- okay. So, the beginning of the murder still is Jurgen talking, I think audibly a bit worried. I’d like to make the assumption that while Elias is like “bird stuff always a risk about death” that is when the pipe is revealed, Jurgen is taking the moment to try and reason with him and I think 2 and 3 are the most viable due to the sound they use. In 1’s scenario Elias wouldn’t get enough strength in that first swing (due to the desk being in the way, and Elias most likely having to lean over the desk to try and get a strong strike.

Then, the sound- I believe Elias initially hits Jurgen from the side of the head, think like the same ‘row’ that your temples are on, that vague side of the head. Jurgen is heard with a grunt by the first hit; we don’t hear him fall or anything (which makes me suspect it could be a situation of Elias walking over to the other side of the table) and it doesn’t really sound like Elias moves where he hits very much- continuing to strike that original spot; otherwise we’d likely hear the crunch of bone. Am I making the assumption that the sound design would include the crunch and that I would know what hitting a skull with a metal pipe is, oh yeah totally.

Now, that settles how I think this entire thing played out, Elias revealing the pipe as he walks over to the side, Jurgen looks up in old sad man still seated and is trying to reason with Elias, maybe he even attempts to get up and that is when Elias strikes in the right side of his head (just what makes sense to me, it could be the left either it wouldn’t matter much) and repeatedly hits there 11 times (yes I counted the strikes we hear, no I don’t have anything better to do with my time because I’m putting off writing a script) before like dipping or whatever.

Now, the pipe posture if you will. I see so many drawings of Elias’s hands like this,

Raised, and for all intents and purposes from an art sense it’s rad. It’s a dynamic pose and stuff, and of course this is not a critique on artists (who are way better than me) and how they want to draw this fictional man hold his pipe. However this is my brainrot talking on the ‘hey I think this is how he’d get the most effective swing’ because I’ve listened to two seasons back to back and I no longer have a brain.

But; Elias Bouchard wants the most bang for his buck so to speak. I think holding the Pipe like the tried and true baseball bat would provide this. Elias holding it like in my very bad diagram is good if he’d want to poke or stab someone with the pipe, but it’s really effective if you can get that swing in. So yeah, baseball style; hands together near the end of the pipe and over a shoulder or even over his head if you want to be silly with his posing.

Uh, haha okay. I’m sorry but the rot is all consuming and I’ve been thinking about him a lot, also like Peter Lukas and a bunch of the other sillies but this kinda- forced itself out while I was looking at art of the scene. I, uh, :3 that’s all. I like thinking about the mapping and layout and planning of scenes like these and how the visuals might’ve looked if there were visuals. I promise I probably won’t make any more posts like this for a solid while (however, talking about Bryce Lawerence and my thing in SoN are-imagining that he was the one to kill Gwen… maybe.)

#hehe :3 #idk how to tag this #the magnus archives #tmagp spoilers #tma podcast #tmagp theory #this is really stupid #ridiculous even #I’m sorry if you just want to see the funny pjo stuff I post-#elias bouchard #love that sick little rat man #sorry #okay bye

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cookiesupplier · 5 months

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Every Rose Has It's Thorns - Part One

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc (Talia)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, betrayal. (potentially more to be added?)

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. Not that it is any easier for the soulmate in question. Thus is the fate for Ricky and Talia. Sooner or later, however, life is bound to collide, but what will happen when it does?

author’s note: Part ONE, as usual unbeta'd and will just throw my jumbled words at you and ask you to love them. I don't know how long this series will be yet, I am playing by ear to having a feel for this story and where it will take me.

tags: If you would like to be added feel free to ask, please let me to know whether to this list specifically or in general.

Talia forever would hate the day she learned about soulmate tattoos. Well, marks, they weren’t really tattoos as far as she was concerned. Just because they were intricate images like tattoos, some of them anyway. Some of them were nothing but simple stick figures that little children could draw, the reason that everyone called them tattoos was because they were artwork that was permanently inked to a person’s skin and could never be taken off. Unlike real tattoos though, no needle needed to be taken to your skin for them, there was no ink, no pain, no healing. Everyone got their mark.

On your eighteenth birthday, at the exact moment you were born, your mark appeared. If you were born at five thirteen in the morning, or exactly a minute before midnight, that was the moment that your mark was going to appear. You couldn’t predict what it was. You couldn’t predict where it would be. There was no rhyme or meaning behind them.

Some people used to think that there was an emotional meaning connecting the pair with the tattoo. However, Talia found that hard to believe when there were people that had literally poop emoji as their soulmate tattoo on their ass, out there in the world, oh yes, they were out there, she was well aware. Her cousin, Gemma’s best friend, was her soulmate tattoo. The poor girl, Talia actually hoped that she didn’t find her soulmate if there was truth that there was something linking them emotionally with that emoji, because no.

Not everyone found their soulmate, not everyone wanted to. Some people actively avoided looking at their soulmates because honestly, it took the surprise out of life, and where was the fun of that? The joy of falling in love, and the hope and thrill of putting your heart on the line and wondering, is this the person? Is this the person that fate had chosen for you, the one you were meant to be with?

Talia would never know that feeling.

She knew who her soulmate was the very moment her mark appeared, and the shock that she felt was something that she couldn’t even put words to. Seeing that tattoo appear, one that she knew. One that she’d seen on fansites of one of her favourite bands more than once, and in the same place.. If it wasn’t in the same place it wouldn’t have been him. If it wasn’t in the same place she wouldn’t have been in the position she was in now. If it was just the same image, and not the same place, it would have just been an uncanny coincidence.

This wasn’t just some uncanny thing.

It was real.

Problem was, it was all over the fansites, and Talia had never kept it any secret how much she loved Motionless In White. Especially Ricky Horror.

So when the day she turned eighteen came and she turned up with the exact tattoo that all the fansites claimed was his soulmate tattoo but he always refused to confirm, what famous person would confirm and have millions come out of the woodwork claiming to be their soulmate? Well, it was safe to say, she was ripped apart by so many people that she at least used to think were her friends.

Her true friends, all these years later, were down to three. Three people that in no way would ever bag on her for the rose tattoo that not so innocently sat on her neck, and none of them dared mention anymore.

Years.

Talia used to try.

Despite the cruelty of those around her treating her like some psychotic obsessed fangirl that had gone and gotten the tattoo on her birthday just to fool the man into being with her. She’d loved going to concerts, not just to try and meet Ricky, despite the assumption, but also for the music, thank you very much, but yes, for Ricky. How could she not want to meet the man whose very soul was marked on her skin for the rest of her life? Whose life had been marked with hers longer than hers had been marked with his…

There had been close calls over the years, when she almost got to meet him. The closest had been the time when she’d actually managed to get a VIP ticket to a concert. Sure it was two states over, and she had to fly there and take some time off work, but the fact that she’d managed to save up, and get the ticket at all.

Ava, Jordan and Kyle had all helped her. The three people in her life that had never, not once, ever questioned that mark on her skin and who the other person on the other end was.

Even her family had made her wonder if she was a little insane for thinking that Ricky Horror was her soulmate. Her mother had been so obvious in her effort to placate her, never once did she feel like her family thought that maybe, just maybe, did they believe her. Her father actually suggested she get medical help more than once. Not surprisingly though, there were therapists that did specialise in the effects of the soulmate bond and sometimes delusions that could come from them. The day her father made her appointment with one of them though, was the day she decided to move out of her parents house.

Thankfully Ava had a spare room and was more than happy to split rent with her.

Oh, and that VIP ticket that she got?

She didn’t make it there in time.

One thing happened after another that night, and you could call it a disaster of fate, and in hindsight, she should have seen it coming. Maybe it was a product of fate. Maybe the whole thing with the soulmate tattoos were always going to be wrong and hers was just sitting on her skin to taunt her.

First, her client appointment ran late, and if she had tried to end it early so she could make it to the airport in time, she would have risked losing her job. Not that it would have mattered considering her flight had been delayed anyway, and then by the time they were finally about to board they cancelled it and had to get her onto a different flight. A different flight which meant she didn’t even get there in time to get into her VIP meet and greet in time.

She got to go to the concert.

She got her VIP merch.

After all that, beaten down with the day behind her, her hotel booked and not needing to be at the airport for the flight home until late the next day, she decided to wait to see if she could catch them after the show.. Until she saw him, finally. The smile lit up her face as she saw Ricky pass them by.. Talia had wanted to say something, but when they were actually talking to the fans she was stuck behind some idiot and blocked out of the way, and by the time she managed to elbow her way through, they’d already been ushered on by security.. Not that it mattered when he saw one of the people he was with. His new girlfriend, hand in hand.

It had been an amazing night.. But one that had ended with her in heartbreak.

That was the night that was the beginning of the end for Talia’s attempts to meet Ricky. After so many trips to see their concerts, and try to see him, this last one, this VIP trip, was when she saw him walking back to his tour bus with his new, pretty girlfriend. He was smiling at her so bright, holding her hand between them.

It wouldn’t have killed her as much, except he looked so happy.

Sure, Talia had no doubt he’d had girlfriends before, she’d dated guys, but Ricky had never been open on social media about any of his relationships. This girl though, he was very vocal about. Talia, she couldn’t destroy that, soulmate or not.

Not everyone wanted their soulmate, not everyone wanted their soulmate. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, he was famous, that had to be hard, after all, nearly every single person that knew who her mark connected her too thought she’d was just some psychotically obsessed fan. Why wouldn’t he?

So life moved on.

Talia moved on.

However, if she had to endure one more pathetic attempt to set her up on a blind day from her mother, her brain might explode. Ever since she’d given up on her soulmate tattoo, not that she’d talked to mother about it in years, her mother’s attempts to interest her in someone else had only increased. Now though, the moment the inevitable subject of soulmates came up, she never knew what to say. More often than not, the date came to a dead stop then and there just from what he said even before she could open her mouth. Too many people went on blind dates in hope of meeting the one. She knew she wasn’t that person, and there was no second date then.

Sitting at her desk and looking up from her sketch patch when her phone started going off repeatedly, she was working on a new piece for one of her long-time clients, he was slowly working on a full tattoo sleeve and this was the next addition she was designing, provided he liked what she worked up. He hadn’t yet, but there was always a first time.

Trying to ignore the alerts on her phone to focus wasn’t going to happen, but she needed to take a lunch break anyway. So she set her pencil down, picked up her phone and set to go make herself a cup of coffee.

When she saw who the messages were from, she glanced up to the front of the tattoo palour to one of the culprits, Ava.. she was right there at the reception desk, flicking through a magazine like she didn’t have a care in the world, typical. Shaking her head with a smirk as she opened the messenger app to her friend groups chat to see what the three of them had been gossiping about back and forth.

Kyle: Hey guys, we’re still on for tonight? Jordan: Party girl, you still in? Ava: Oh, I’ll get her there, she’d got her head in her work, like usual today, you know her. Jordan: Oh come ON, TALIA! BIRTHDAY GIRL! Kyle: T, Darling, I did not agree to double shifts to get the night off for you to BAIL! Ava: Kyle! Cool your jets, she’ll be there!

It had been a few moments since the last message, she knew they’d been planning on taking her out to a bar for her birthday for weeks, she hated going out on her birthday, she hated it. It always reminded her of the fucking tattoo on her neck. It shouldn’t. Everyone talked about soulmate tattoos on their birthday. Counting down the years and remembering how they felt when they first saw theirs, or when they first met their soulmate.. When all she wanted was to forget she ever got her mark at all.

She understood Kyle’s frustration though, he was a nurse, and sometimes getting time off for a night out was difficult for him. Kyle and Jordan were fucking lucky, they were soulmates, two of her best friends, known each other since they were in diapers, had been joined at the hip since middle school. The biggest worry they’d ever had was if they were soulmates at all. When Jordan had gotten his mark two months before Kyle, they’d agreed if Kyle didn’t have the same, they wouldn’t care, and lo and behold, two months later, sure enough, Kyle did.

It was actually scary really thinking about it, the way the marks worked.. How if you got your mark years before your soulmate, they could be out there and have no idea. She was younger than Ricky by years, and she wondered sometimes what he must have been thinking, how he must have felt. Some people never met their soulmate, some people never got the chance, and it wasn’t by choice. You knew when you lost the choice, if your tattoo changed from black to white on your skin, then it meant your soulmate had died.

Talia’s of course was still very much black. Not that it mattered. Ricky was out there, not looking, and neither was she. He was happy with someone else, and who was she to ruin that for him.

After she pushed the button on the coffee maker she looked back down to her phone and tapped out a message on her phone.

Talia: I’ll be there Ky, be prepared to die by shots.

#motionless in white #miw #miw band #motionless in white fanfiction #miw fanfiction #miw fanfic #motionless in white fanfic #ricky olson fanfic #ricky olson fanfction #ricky olson #ricky olson x ofc #original female character #soulmates #tattoos #soulmate au #fic: every rose has its thorns

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jennilah · 28 days

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I think i started to follow you bc of tiny!cas, like eons ago, let me tell you seeing you get into different fandoms over the years has been a delight.

I remember seeing post of you going like 'hey these slasher film kinda go hard' and look at you know.

I mean this in the best way possible, I feel i've been watching a house plant grow, every now and then catching my attention and being amazed by the changes

omg thats such a sweet way of describing my... well happy autism awareness day everyone, its a nice way of describing the way i naturally transition through my Special Interests lmfao

actually, for the holiday, let me infodump about this very aspect of my brain to anyone who isnt aware how this works for me. (also every autistic person is different, so this is just how this symptom manifests in me)

ill say "phases" to simplify, though thats an unfair word because it implies im "over" my past phases. 99% of my past phases are pretty much there for life, but in the back of my mind. (So long as I didnt have a "bad breakup" with it for some reason, which is rare but happens) The ability to become a raving lunatic about it is dormant until someone asks the right question.

There can only be one interest (sometimes 2, with one being the less dominant one) at the forefront of my brain at a time, though. that defines the "phase".

so for example, my recent Halloween phase is "over" and I am 100% fully into Saw now, but I still absolutely love Halloween and Michael and Jason and all those guys. as evident by me still happily sharing gifsets and art and buying merch etc if it tickles my fancy. They're just hanging out in the background of my mental display case.

yea whoever follows my tumblr for a very long time has watched it happen in realtime. the transition between interests. i know for a fact which phase I started this blog on. if you're here from the beginning, youve seen, in order:

-Durarara!! -Deus Ex -Supernatural -Godzilla -Detroit: Become Human -There was like a few weeks where it was HLVRAI -And then it was plants. There was a year-long stretch with no Special Interest and I was latching onto odd things (and I was very inactive here) -Halloween & Friday the 13th -and now, Saw

I have many other things I love, but they don't clamp around my brain in quite the same extreme way.

my phases can last any amount of time, anywhere from a few short intense months to 5+ years, its completely random, completely unpredictable. even the interest itself is impossible to predict. its not something i choose, its something that happens to me.

sometimes i avoid watching things for a long time because im still very emotionally attached to my current phase and im genuinely afraid the shiny new thing will replace it. all art or fic ideas for the previous phase? theyll be abandoned. all I will want to create will be related to the new thing. (though I will sometimes draw it anyway, like digging up old toys to play with once in a while. The likelihood just drops considerably)

which is why right now i pretty much put a pause on the other franchises I plan on watching. I'm genuinely gripping onto Saw like someone is tryin to take it from me.

and then sometimes im like "haha yeah right. ill be fine. ill eat my shoe if my brain latches to this" and then put on the movie and by the credits roll im a new person (yes thats what happened with Saw. I really had no idea.)

this is also why im terrified of even just "checking out" things that have, like, a toxic fanbase or something, because i cant stop a new phase from happening if it does. and its really hard to keep it to myself, fuck

(do u know how mad i was when i realized i was attaching to hoffman the evil dirty cop??? i was so scared of drawing him, dudes. but thankfully everyones been cool abt it and we're all very aware of his awfulness & we have fun w it)

and every time my brain changes and i do get obsessed with some new thing, i get really scared and worried and hope I dont bother everyone who followed me for something else :(((( and yet, every time, im absolutely floored by how many people choose to tolerate my newest nonsense and stick around anyway

anyway ive lost the plot of what point i was making here OH YEAH thank you!

tl;dr: that would be the autism! thank you, it WILL happen again! that is a threat! 🥰

#jennilargh #jenna answers

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carlosoliveiras-wife · 6 months

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ .ೃ࿐ ┈┈┈┈ : . . . . : ─ hola, qué pasa. i’m chloë [she/her], biromantic[?]/ace-spectrum hispanic [white/mex] ladee who enjoys masc titles. here’s my main selfship carrd [still in progress]. here’s my general f/o list. here's my fandom ref drive. please like this post once read!

the guys shown above are My Darlin's, my main F/Os that I have super bad brainrot about and who are just part of my main squad but with a fancier label. rubs eyes. in order, they are...

Carlos Oliveira; Resident Evil 3 [Remake]

Pavia; Reverse: 1999

Miguel O'Hara; Specifically ATSV's Version*

Charles Smith; Red Dead Redemption 2

Lúcio Correia dos Santos; Overwatch

Lee; Arknights

Rei Sakuma; Ensemble Stars!!

the asterisk is that i largely use comic lore in reference to Miguel. in case that needed to be said. i just needed to put that out there i guess??

my terms on sharing are that i'm not comfy, and if you're too lazy(/nm) to read below, the gist is dni if we share, and if you reblog from someone who shares my f/os of any status, i'll just softblock for my mental health because i. am a bitch when it comes to sharing. sorry.

in the same sense: if you share any of my friends' f/os, i either will block or not follow just for their sakes and i have a personal bias when it comes to my friends' stuff. if that makes sense. probably not. here's the link to the list, which can be updated at any time.

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ .ೃ࿐ ┈┈┈┈ : . . . . : ─ i’m specifically writing my new pinned to sound like i lack enthusiasm, because, y’know, i kinda feel that way a lot. don’t be intimidated, i don’t bite unless you give me a permit to do so, otherwise i’ll just stare at you from across the room. i’m not new to selfshipping in the slightest, and i’ve been doing this shit since i was a kid. i heavily love fictional characters and i see them as my bitches who should bow down to me. that’s a joke. i’m bowing down to them. sidenote: i put the question mark by biromantic because i have no idea if i’m aroace or not. sigh.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ .ೃ࿐ ┈┈┈┈ : . . . . : ─ i like a lot of things outside of fictional characters who make me wanna eat grass. i love to draw, i love to write, i love to design, i’d fucking love to not have seasonal allergies. i also really fucking love animals, however, don’t rely on me for knowledge because i obviously don’t know everything about anything. my faves are orcas and foxes! my favorite foods are salmon nigiri, tamales, and conchas. awkward thumbs up emoji.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ .ೃ࿐ ┈┈┈┈ : . . . . : ─ my dni and other stuff can be found on my main/introductory carrd. fandom-wise, you can find my info and trivia and all your need-to-knows on my ascendaries carrd.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ .ೃ࿐ ┈┈┈┈ : . . . . : ─ yes, i’m aware i have a rain theme going on. personal ties and i love the weather. shrug emoji.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ .ೃ࿐ ┈┈┈┈ : . . . . : ─ yes, i'm aware a lot of my selfships have repetitive themes and tropes. those themes and tropes are very comforting and also largely stem from personal things which is why i indulge them. tldr: if you hate childhood friends to lovers, hooh, you're gonna hate me.

little tidbits about me, i suppose. a good chunk of these are taken from my old pinned.

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ i quite literally use myself in all selfships, and prefer each fandom variation to not be called a "self insert". it's legit just me befitted for a fandom (usually a f/o, ie, if a f/o is an eldritch horror then fuck it i am too) 😔 ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ i have a lot of interests and tend to show an interest in a lot of things at once— while i may not know everything about a media, i do immediately go searching for character analyses as well as consume media as much as i can. i do have an attention problem which involves finding it hard to sit down and binge. but i will read the info as much as i can, i do tend to like reading more than watching/playing. ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ again, as previously stated, i am a hispanic selfshipper. however, i look whiter than one would assume, and kinda act it as well. while meals and pronunciations are a big deal to me[minus the joking mispronunciations which earn me 'oh she's white' stares; listen it's kinda funny], i'm not fluent in spanish [i know a few phrases…] nor do i have many experiences many others may have. i admire a lot of the traditions, however i did not grow up with them. i’d love to meet other hispanic selfshippers though, y’all are cool and i’m giving you all a little kiss. ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ yeah, it's actually spelled “Chloë”, in case you had to know. ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ i love to indulge my friends and mutuals as best as i can! my inbox is always open for rambles and such, so don't be afraid to talk to me. i also don't mind infodumps on any of my faves because you'd more than likely help me understand them more anyways, which is always welcome. ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ i do love to portray myself as the more affectionate one in any of my selfships— while everyone loves affectionate male/female f/o stuff, i like giving out more love and flustering my dumbasses. ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ unfortunately, i am a lady who is very not okay with sharing. if that bothers you, just please do not interact. i know non-sharing selfshippers seem silly and childish, but it's just how i am. similarly, i do not care to interact with anyone who selfships with faves on the friend DNI list, meaning that i prefer their selfships above all else. i know that ain’t gonna stop anyone, but oh well. that list doesn’t apply to anyone following before that list was updated, so! yeah. ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ i'm uncomfortable with nsfw and if you are a nsfw account, please do interact on a different account. while i do have nsfw humor, indulging in actual nsfw makes me uncomfy, so please keep that in mind. ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ don't be scared of interacting with me. i'm not gonna leap out of the water and bite your hand off. as long as we don't share f/os, i don't mind interacting. ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ i don't mind being tagged in things. i find it quite fun, actually! and i feel honored! hehehe ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ fandom blogs PLEASE dni. there's nothing wrong with you guys...some of y'all, i mean. i'm just. i'd strongly prefer not to have fandom blogs follow me. likewise: ccxcc shippers for my f/os. sorry i'm still a person who's uncomfy w/sharing ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ edited last: 12/6/2023 — while this blog is by all means "private" (read: i have the settings that doesn't allow this blog to be searched up or something else), i don't think i'm too bothered by reblogs or stuff about my personal selfship content anymore. i had this rule in place initially so that way i did not burn a hole in my brain from too much attention, however, i will do my best in taking things easier so that way i don't hit that mark of burnout again, or at least, as fast. ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

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DNI

you fit basic DNI criteria, this includes being a zionist. i dont wanna see any proshippers or racists or pedos or lgbtphobes or islamophobes or anyone else who fits this bs criteria

if you share my f/os, this is just more of a comfort thing. im less likely to follow if you reblog from someone who does share my f/os just for my own comfort

if you associate with @/tealilii or @/glazelilii or whatever other handles she has. she's caused trauma for me and another friend of mine, and might still be doing harmful shit to my other friend.

you associate with @/lolthia. you can find posts on why you shouldnt associate with them.

javier escuella slanderers. i will throw you like a fucking dodgeball

people who like dark content, including but not limited to: yanderes, DD: DNE, noncon or dubcon, incest including stepcest, the glorification of abuse

see someone wearing certain things in fashion and immediately ask if theyre into nsfw things or why they're wearing "fetish gear". its weird, dont do that, esp not to me.

there's probably more but. hm. i'll update eventually

i don't know what else to add. glances to the side. so uh. yeahh. hi there guys...??

dividers are by @/cafekitsune!!

#⛈️: chloë's thunderstorm of info.#(pinned)

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therealmaquaroonie · 19 days

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more of my dumb ninjago au because i am completely mentally stable

yes Pixie is this universe's version of Pixal, i find her character super flat in canon so i decided to give her a similar orgin story to zane proper in this AU! i'm not spoilies it but i like. her a lot in this au now :)

no the fact that Harumi looks like vanessa from fnaf sb was not intentional in any way. i'm sorry honey i didn't mean it your ponytail is just in the exact right position

Morro is a nonbinary half ghost half human like danny phantom is because i am a huge fucking nerd, he and Lloyd hang out in his apartment sometimes and Morro gossips about the rest of the security guards while Lloyd writes essays for his college thesis, nodding along

i'm well aware zane (top right! lore reasoning makes him unlabeled because The Facility doesn't know he exists yet!) looks like one of the doctors from doctor who. this was intentional because i heavily kin zane and once again i am a huge nerd. some design choices for zane have stayed the same since i started drawing him (more like my... zane kinsona technically but before i even knew kinsona was a thing...) all the way back when i was around 10 years old!! which is crazy because i'm now 21!! ninjago has been around for so long!! but no i will not be changing his design because of personal attachment issues/i see this version of zane as a part of my identity and he makes up a key part of who i am today. so yes this zane is my zane kinsona and yes my zane kinsona is a part of this au. he also has sharp teeth to bite people with

OH AND SKYLOR!!!!!! she's also the head of a biker gang!!!! her design has stayed somewhat the same through my iterations of this au and i still love it to this day :)

#maq rambles #maq content #maq./ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago au #lego ninjago au

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acknowledgetheabsurd · 4 months

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I have just reread your last two letters and I have a curious impression. When I realize that you live somewhere, that you get up, that you change, that you lie down, that you talk, that you get angry, that you laugh somewhere far from me, surrounded by living beings - well, more or less -, when I learn that Robert [Jaussaud], whom I know, Michel, Janine [Gallimard] come and go around you and that you attend a lot of small daily events, I am astonished and there is something in me that refuses to admit it.

The house, the landscape that surrounds you are for me part of a dream that is reduced to a few words and a postcard; it is not very real. The presence of F[rancine] does not seem very plausible to me either; it is part of the mists that always blur a part of a being; it presents itself to me as a ghost of the past that makes you someone I can never know entirely, someone distinct from me that I can never possess completely - but this image remains vague, a little abstract; it is your unknown. Mixed with him, you disappear for me, from this world leaving me only the memory of the one I knew and which has no relation with the other. If you were dead, it would be the same in a way, and it hurts me in a way too.

However, I understand; but when the image of a being existing for me comes to mingle with you in my reveries and when I suddenly realize that this is true, that Robert [Jaussaud] or Michel [Gallimard] can, if they want to, take your hand right now, then I don't even feel pain anymore. I don't understand anymore, and yet for days and days it goes on. How strange and funny! Michel or Janine can put their arms around your neck, look as long as they want at the turned-up corners of your lips and make for an irreplaceable time a whole existence around you that will be taken away from me forever. It's enough to make you laugh, admit it!

And to think that we will not stop here, and that led by life, we will still disdain - for a trip, for a vacation, for a movie - days and days to come. Ah, that's clever! No, my darling, my love; I don't remember the trucks at the aubede Senlis - I only remember thinking... once, I think... being awakened by the storm and quickly falling back to sleep in a warmth that I now miss to the point of pain - I also remember the bottles of Vichy in the evening, the wait for the waiter who didn't come, I remember how little by little, during those days, I became acquainted with you, with an intimate you, trembling and warm, I remember being aware of a frightening danger and I remember the last bursts of my egoism, until then quite firm, and my abandonment, my acceptance, my consent. Ah, yes, I remember. And I dream, I dream. Constantly.

And I build and I arrange, and that collapses and I start again. Over and over again. Tonight, during the intermission, we got serious. We talked about the children we might have. I tried to be biased, to run away, but Jean and Michel kept drawing me a picture of my daughter, because they had decided that I would have a daughter... with a pointed chin and almond-shaped eyes. Smart guys! Something deep inside me capsized and I dreamed, I dreamed, I dreamed. Alas! Too old now to have children and then could I and would I know how to be a mother? Forgive me, darling. Because there is a land that is forbidden to us, we never dream and this evening I am tired of a life that only ends in the night; I want future projects, of I don't know what.

Don't worry; it lasts the time of a letter; then everything fades away and it's only a matter of starting again. Perhaps it would be better not to write these desires or these states of mind; perhaps it would give them a consistency that they don't have - and that's why I hate letters in general - but, you know, and I do too, it does me good. I'm going to sleep, my love - I'm going to cook my cold a little. See you tomorrow, my darling; see you tomorrow, my beautiful face, sleep, sleep well; love me. Love me again. Courage. I kiss you with all my soul.

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, February 6, 1950 [#175]

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oldbutnotyetwise · 5 months

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A Life Worth Living

What is a life worth living? Perhaps more importantly, when is a life not worth living? When you have a terminal illness you can find yourself pondering such things. You have no choice but to sit back and watch as your life slips away. What you were able to do yesterday, you may not be able to do today. Although your brain may be tired it still works as well as it ever did and it has these two lists, one for what you can still do, and one for what you can’t do anymore. As one list continues to grow, the other is dwindling down, dwindling down to almost nothing.

You know that old saying about seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, normally it refers to coming out the other end of the tunnel, and leaving whatever problem behind you. Not in my case, in my case that light is a locomotive speeding down the tracks, through the tunnel and straight towards me. The light I see is the headlight and its getting very bright, and very close. I can hear the sound of the train and it is close enough that I can smell it. I should get off the tracks, jump out of the way but my body isn’t responding, the train is blowing it’s horn and neither can the train stop in time, nor can I avoid what is coming. All that remains is the time needed to cross the space between the speeding train and me standing dead still in the centre of the tracks.

As this disease has progressed I have often pondered the question, when is a life not worth living? What line does one cross and then decide that life is no longer worth living? Probably not something most people would consider if they aren’t aware that their time is running out.

Is life worth living when……your legs stop working….when your arms grow too weak to lift yourself up….when you can’t sit up anymore……when you can’t lift your arms over your head anymore to put on a hat……when you can’t roll over in bed…..when you can’t shower yourself or use the toilet by yourself……when you no longer have the strength to lift a cup of tea……when you lose the ability to speak and be understood……when you lose the ability to do your writing because even that last finger you’ve been typing with is no longer listening to what your brain tells it to do. I would like you to think about that……where would you draw your line?

Now let me share something with you, where you think you would draw your line, and where you would actually draw the line are likely two different places. Where I thought I would draw the line when things were being pondered hypothetically is well…., well I have passed that line and I am still here.

I know many others who are travelling the same road that I am, and who are fighting the same monster. During our online meetings we all look at each other, assessing each others points in our journeys. I look at some and tell myself that what is enough for some, isn’t enough for me. Don’t get me wrong I respect their personal decision to hang on, but I don’t believe I would do the same in the same circumstance. It’s an incredibly personal decision, there is no right or wrong, all I can do is try to get it right, right for myself. My dear sweet wife is wise enough to acknowledge that this is my decision alone and she will respect whatever I decide. I do seek and accept her input, but in the end it is my decision alone, and it should be as no one else should have to carry the burden of that decision.

So today, is my life worth living? The answer is yes it is. Why you ask? My life is worth living because this morning Robin and I spent twenty minutes laying in bed together wrapped in each others arms. It is the only time when my illness isn’t front and centre, the only time I can forget about being sick and am just a very lucky man and for twenty minutes I am in the best place in the world. My day with Robin will have many tender moments, many I Love You’s, and a good deal of laughter. I also get to go out and take our dog for a walk, enjoying the fresh air while sharing the love and companionship of our sweet loyal girl. A dog who likes to remind me that you don’t need much to be happy, you just need to focus on the good things all around you. And finally I will have some family or friends visit, sharing stories, memories, laughter and their good company. Good friends who know that under this mess of a person I have become is still the same person who they have known for years. So yes, there is still goodness amidst the daily struggle to survive.

I have met the person who will in all likelihood be easing me out of this world. She is a pretty young doctor with a kind gentle nature who is good at putting us at ease with everything that is going on. I call her my “Killer Blonde”. Imagine having a Doctor come to your home, spend an hour with you, actually listen to what you say because she doesn’t have to rush out the door in five minutes to get to the next patient. My impression is that instead of being focused on how to fight whatever disease or illness they are faced with, they focus on quality of life for their patient. There is a quote by Steve Leder here that I think fits. He suggests that you ask the doctor this question, “Is what you are thinking of doing going to prolong my life or prolong my death?” I believe this is a very special kind of doctoring that Palliative Care Doctors do, and from what I’ve seen I believe I have a good one.

For now I am hurrying to get done what I need to get done, to make things easier for after. Although presently I am a mess getting messier, I would like for all my affairs to be neat and tidy.

As of next week all the paperwork will be done, after which I can place a phone call when I feel the time is right and within a few days I can make my peaceful exit, my last chapter finally complete. The fight will be done, my body will be turned into dust and spread in several places, some I know well, and some I have never been to. And although my body will be gone I will live on in those who have known and loved me. Robin will cry but she will also laugh because that is how we lived our life together. Elizabeth will put on a brave face, well because she is a Brady. When she runs into a problem and can’t phone me for advice, I hope that she pauses for a minute and figures out the solution she and I would have come up with together. I hope that both Robin and Elizabeth will continue to talk to me after I’m gone, and I hope they hear me answer back because they both know me well enough to know what I would say. I hope they will feel my presence forever in their hearts where I plan to continue living. I will also live on in the hearts and minds of the incredible group of friends and family who were there for me, who walked beside me on this difficult journey.

#als #MAID #End Of Life #A Life Worth Living

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kaialone · 1 year

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hey! i know this is really random but i've been going down a kirby lore rabbit hole lately and stumbled upon your posts about adeline and ado. in one of them, you talked about how a 64 dream article stated how ado was a nickname for adeline but couldn't find it. i found a nintendo japan post for when they added kirby 64 to NSO "5月20日より「NINTENDO 64 Nintendo Switch Online 」に『星のカービィ64』が追加。当時のゲーム誌「64DREAM」の記事情報も公開。" which seems to include these scans. google translate seems to indicate that what people claimed was true (with the first image even straight up saying she's returning from dreamland 3) but i was wondering if you would be able to provide proper translations to help put this to rest lol.

ty in advance!

Hello!

I was already aware of these, but thank you for trying to bring this to my attention nonetheless ^^

I haven't really updated my Ado and Adeleine posts since I first made them back in 2019, but that's mostly cause there's been no new info that completely shakes up the facts I had back then. (I should probably add that I have now seen the Nintendo Dream scans in question, but I even pointed out that I never really doubted their existence in the first place.)

But yes, back when Nintendo added Kirby 64 to the NSO, they also released these old Nintendo Dream (or 64 Dream back then) magazine scans about the game for everyone to see. They indeed seem to confirm what was already pretty clear, which is that Ado and Adeleine were considered the same character around that time near the release of Kirby 64 - which is good to know.

I remember this also causing some mild annoyance for me though, cause with that came another wave of people going "oh, so it's officially confirmed all along!", unaware of the fact that HAL has since walked back from this idea ^^;

Recent works like the Kirby Character Encyclopedia from 2022 still continue to treat the connection between Ado and Adeleine as ambiguous, or don't bring it up at all, so no change there since 2019.

Lastly, since you asked, here's my translation of those old 64 Dream Scans, for what it's worth:

Adeleine Adeleine also appeared in the previous game, "KDL3" She's good at drawing and helps Kirby. You meet her on Popstar.

Here's Li'l Ado Adeleine's been possessed by the enemy Next up is Ado. This time around we actually get to know true name. She's really called Adeleine. Remember this, everybody.

↑ She got possessed by an enemy after she picked up a crystal shard. Looks like she attacked Kirby and the others when they came running to her side.

I am amused by the "remember this, everyone" bit, considering what a confusing mess the whole thing became ^^;

TL;DR for those just scrolling by: Kirby 64 related magazine scans from over 20 years ago confirm that Ado and Adeleine were considered the same character around that time, but more recent statements continue to treat it as a mystery - so it's not currently officially confirmed.

#Kirby #Kirby of the Stars #Kirby's Dream Land 3 #Kirby 64 #adeleine #ado #reply #nickdadroid

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cartoonyappreciation · 3 months

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As an asexual a(gray?)romantic, it’s hard for me to explain to my allosexual friends what life for me is like. I would think it should be easy, “You know how you feel about people you don’t feel attracted to? Take that and apply it to everyone.”

“So you don’t love anyone?”

“Of course not, do you need to be attracted to your best friends or family to love them?”

It’s hard to say, “oh that person is attractive/hot/beautiful,” and not feel the need to defend my sexuality. I define those things in the same way that a child defines a color as blue, a flower as pretty. Growing up surrounded by social media, we are constantly told what is sexy, who is hot, who is attractive. Feeling nothing to indicate otherwise, of course I might adopt those ideals as my own.

It is difficult, still, to explain to them the difference between recognizing a person as attractive, despite not experiencing it myself, how some aces are able to enjoy sex, although some do not. How does one explain the lack of something they have never experienced?

In high school, maybe middle school, we are (or at least I was) taught that men will tell you anything to get in your pants. That it is men who feel this way, and while it could prove tempting for women, it is us who bear the consequences of those irresponsibilities. With that fear mongering, and those words, how was I to suspect anything might be “other”?

A boy asks me out and I say yes because it is exciting to be wanted, to be loved. I break up with him a couple months later because I still feel no different about him to how I felt before. He is still my best friend and I feel guilty for leading him on, a lie of omission. While my other friends are dating, none of them that I know are interested in sex. I’ve heard of other girls in school partaking, but those rumors are bounced around with insults. I feel bad for them, but do not really know them.

In college I live with three other girls I have barely met. It is here where I first begin to suspect that I may not feel everything these girls do. I try dating when it comes up, but still feel no desire to take things up a level. I become well-aware of my roommates sex-lives (living in that close proximity to one another and being away from friends/families for the first time makes you talk). I talk to other girls, I look things up online, I reflect.

Sometimes it’s easy to see how I feel differently than others around me. When people around me fawn over celebrities, or get nervous around people they find attractive, I realize that it isn’t really a bit. Not for these people. It’s fun to go along with sometimes, to be dramatic, but for my friends, after talking to them, I know it’s not a joke for them. They may have a flair for the dramatic, but apparently they also feel something alongside the happiness of entertaining one another, aside from just the general anxiety of being close to other human beings you are unfamiliar with. In elementary school, I had one go to celebrity and one school-mate who were my go-to crushes. Declarations of having no crushes were met with total and utter disbelief and speculation.

How does one show or explain the lack of certain thoughts? Here, let me draw you a comic, write you a book, of just how much I am not thinking of boys, or girls, enbys (bc yall are stylish as hell) or having a relationship, having sex. Oh wait, that’s just a story about a normal person doing literally anything else.

When I tell new friends about my identity, sometimes I get the good old, “Wow, I’m so jealous. You must be able to be so focused and get so much done!” I question how much of that is a joke versus how much allos actually pine or get distracted by their sexualities. (Granted, I have had to stop my brother from getting us into an accident when he was distracted by a particularly caked up booty, but he hasn’t gotten into an accident before, so surely that must be an outlier?)

That is all to say, as many have said before, it is difficult to explain, or even recognize, the lack of a certain feeling. I think it’s kind of funny, if a bit annoying. But online communities have really helped me accept myself for who I am, even if I’m still figuring it out one step at a time.

#asexuality #asexual #musings

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lolz88 · 4 months

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Life advice

Hi, you don’t know me and we’ll probably never meet, but if you’d be so kind as to listen to some words of wisdom please continue reading,

if not have a good day

Trigger warning

Mentions of SA, child abuse, suicidal ideation,

In life, you won’t always be alright, things will be shit, something will go wrong, something will hurt you or you’ll hurt someone and regret it day in and day out

But that being said, life won’t always be bad, things will work out for you, something will go right, you will one day heal, and those you accidentally hurt will heal

And you may not believe that, a couple of years ago I would not have, I would have screamed and swore that nothing good could happen, that I didn’t deserve it and that it was all lies

“But what’s the difference now”? You may ask

“How did you change”?

Allow me to paint that picture

I was born to a First Nations mother and a second generation immigrant father, in a small rundown town, in which my family broke leaving my mother alone with an infant, my life was never meant to be glamorous

Growing up was paycheque to paycheque in a rundown little town, my mom was newly divorced, with my little half brother and a scummy ex who wanted her to suffer, it was rough, then came a little spark of hope, a kind stepfather, 3 new older siblings in a large house in the countryside, it was like something out of a dream, life turned out amazing…

But then it didn’t, at age 5 when I was supposed to be running and playing, I was walking on eggshells, hiding from my adult stepbrother, who had a taste for little kids and used them to take out his anger, I even remember drawing away my stepbrother’s attention from my little brother, doing so without even really knowing why. And the worst part is we thought it was normal, we considered it a daily norm to the point we didn’t even consider telling an adult. I was only 13 when I realized a grown man should have never even considered what my step brother

And we only got away because a teacher who didn’t like my mother called cps, we never even knew why, but when they showed up I was asked to sit down and talk with them, to tell them everything that happened in a day in great detail, I told them every detail with a smile not knowing anything was wrong, and in doing so, my parents found out, or should I say parent, as it came out my stepfather was aware

It was at most a day when we left, moving in with my grandparents, and later moving back to our old home, our home from before. And the worst part is I could go on, that wasn’t my backstory but just the prologue, that’s not counting the 16 years of bullying, the harassment, the 8 suicide attempts, the addiction and so on

So how can I be ok?, how can I wake up and get out of bed?, how am I still here?

It wasn’t therapy, wasn’t medication and sure as hell wasn’t religion, the reasons I’m still here are dozens and yet only 3 are really important, I’m here because I couldn’t miss my mother’s birthday, I couldn’t leave because my dog was sick and needed me, I had to stay because my brother was about to graduate elementary school and he wanted me there, I took all those little moments and the hundreds of others and I held them close, and slowly they began to fill that little void in me

Nowadays I can say I’m ok and mean it, but that’s the thing, I’m ok yes, but sometimes I’m not, sometimes I cry myself sick because I’m convinced I’ll never fall in love with someone, that because of how I look or the way I talk somehow makes me unloveable, sometimes I feel numb, that same feeling I got when I lost hope, sometimes I am reminded of how I struggled and I stumble.

But then, in time, slowly I start to feel lighter, I start singing to my cows in the morning, I’m baking and I can picture a home where someone loves me and I them

And I realize, once again, that I’m ok, and that I will be ok if I fall again

Now one thing to note, I may not have had help, but if you feel anything like I did, you should seek help, I’ve told those story in the hopes that you take away one single concept

That even during those dark painful moments, in the hopeless times, sometimes all you need is one little thing, one insignificant thing that will snowball out till you reach the day you can look back and smile at how far you’ve come

Remember always, no matter what you are loved, valued and important

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sirendeepity · 2 years

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[ Gwynriel one-shot ]

A/N: the cake header didn't win in the end, but I kinda liked it so watch out because I might reuse it in the future. Anywaay Idk how to classify this, because it's many things and nothing at all, so- Enjoy?

P.s.: for all my Nessian lovers at heart, yes, this one-shot was originally meant for them, and only recently I chose violence and made it Gwynriel <3

P.p.s.: keep in mind that I was too lazy to do serious medical research on a fictional creature's anatomy, so if anything I said here makes no sense, just roll with it

P.p.p.s.: it's been more than a year since I first published this and the damn cake header- SO here it is. The infamous cake header. I love it so much, it's not even funny. If you're reading this now and have no idea what all of this is about, just know that the loser is now the winner, make of that what you wish

W/C: 2.7k

T/W: depiction of injury, blood

Gwyn closed her book with a loud thud, the sound echoing through the empty library down to its darkest corners.

“What is it?” She asked, running low on patience. Something was clearly bothering the young priestess, and that “something” had a name, a face, and even a title. Multiple titles, actually. Or nicknames, depending on who you ask.

Namely: Kingslayer (she was fine with it, so long as you addressed the other kingslayer the same way), Goddess of Death (“I am no such thing”), Princess of Decay (not her best, if Gwyn had to be honest, but she could live with it), Lady Death (this one, in particular, she enjoyed more than she let on, and Cassian’s personal favorite), Queen of Queens (so much for her pride and ego, as if Nesta didn’t have enough of them already), Valkyrie, General, Oristian (the one and only cause of many, many heated quarrels between the two of them. Take a bet, you’d be wrong anyway), and on and forward with mighty and frightening titles like Archeron, Sweetheart, Nes.

The latter, specifically, was the cause of the discomfort in the House of Wind. The sentiment, well, it belonged to its owner and creator, but it mattered little since it reflected on the building as a whole, and therefore anyone who currently resided in it.

“Nesta,” the redhead urged, drawing back the attention to the present moment, “what’s wrong? You’ve been uneasy and anxious all afternoon. And that damned knee-”

Nesta Archeron stopped her bouncing knee at once.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Nesta replied, burying her nose back into her book. The priestess knew her friend was not reading a single word since she hasn’t flipped a page once in the past half hour.

Gwyn just stared at her pointedly, waiting for the other to just give up any pretense and confess the cause of her distress, blurting out whatever was worrying both her mind and her heart. Normally, it would’ve taken a lot more than just a look to tear Nesta Archeron’s defenses down, but normally she wouldn’t have been in such a state in the first place.

With a loud huff of defeat, Nesta closed her book as well. “It’s Cassian,” she admitted.

“Yes, that I already knew,” replied Gwyn, not surprised in the least. “The real question is why? I mean, you’ve known each other for quite some time now, it’s not like this is the first mission he took part in.”

“Leading, actually,” Nesta corrected, “but that’s not the point, is it?”

The priestess shook her head, just a little, and gave her friend pause to find the right words to express herself. She was aware of the struggles Nesta still faced whenever she had to open her heart, to laid it bare for the world to wound. But Gwyn also knew that she was trying her best, fighting against her own mind, the old bad habits screaming at her to tear apart any threat with bared teeth because cowering—failing—was not an option. She just needed some time to rummage through her vocabulary, making sure she used the right words, so she wouldn’t end up being misunderstood and then had to find different words to repeat herself. Gods knew how Nesta despised saying the same thing twice.

“I know he’s been a part of many missions already, but this one is different,” Nesta said. “This one is big, and secretive. It’s a serious thing—more than the others, I mean. Azriel is the ‘secretive’ one, not Cassian.” Her index and middle finger curled in the air, stating her point. “Contacts of any kind have been banned between us, and…”

“And?” Gwyn prompted once the silence stretched on. Letting Nesta stay inside her head for too long was not wise, not while she was in these conditions: eaten alive by nerves and anxiety and doubts. You name it.

“And he shut me out. His end of the mating bond… It is not there. I can reach up to the very same point, and then nothing. It’s like walking on a bridge and at some point, it just stops. Or it goes on, but you wouldn’t know because there’s a wall of mist blocking you from reaching the other end. This is what is killing me. I feel nothing from it—from him. He could be injured or dying or already dead and I wouldn’t even know!”

Gwyn met her friend’s troubles with sympathy in her eyes and logic in her mind—there was space for only one kind of sentimentalism here, and it wasn’t hers. She couldn’t say she understood what Nesta was going through, exactly, but maybe one day she would. If it were up to her, there would be two of them worrying over their mates’ wellbeing and safety, but since it wasn’t up to her and her only, she could do nothing but wait and try and hope that he just opened his eyes and— Gwyn shook her head. Focus on Nesta, she thought. She needs you most.

“That’s not true, Nesta,” the priestess started, comforting words pouring out of her like water. “Even if he tries to block his end of the bond to prevent it from reaching out to you, there is just so much he can do. If something, anything, worth of serious notice happened to him, you would still know it. You would feel it. That’s one of the wonders of a mating bond. The same soul in two different bodies.”

Nesta rolled her eyes at the cheesy words, and Gwyn couldn’t help her own giggle.

You can pretend all you want, Archeron. I know you’re a romantic at heart.

The youngest covered her face, groaning into her hands. The sound came out muffled, just like her words. “It doesn’t sound so funny when you’re in my situation. I can’t even fucking function like a normal person. All I can do is walk around the House like an angry gremlin, biting everyone’s head off. I think I accidentally made one of the new acolytes cry a few days ago.”

“You do look like a bundle of nerves and pure evil.”

“Thanks.”

Gwyn laughed again. “Come on, we just need some cuddles and self-care.” Also known as cakes and bubble baths. They’d always worked wonders. She rose from her seat, the book forgotten, and extended a hand in her friend’s direction. Nesta eyed it for a moment longer before pushing the pillows aside and interlacing their fingers.

“We could call Emerie, too. Code Purple. I’m sure she would close down the shop and come her running on her own two feet if we only asked—”

The door of the private library opened, banging against the wall on its way, cutting Gwyn off. Both females turned toward the source of the disturbance, guards raised and brows furrowed.

Gwyn relaxed first. Speaking of the devil…

“We were just talking about you,” the priestess said in way of greetings, but her relief didn’t live long. Something was alarming the Illyrian, who bounced her brown eyes between pairs of teal and silver.

Something’s wrong.

As if on cue, Emerie took a shallow breath and voiced what was unsettling them all, “The guys are back. They’re not okay.”

One moment, Nesta was there. The next, she was gone, fleeing out of the room so fast that even Gwyn’s sharp reflexes needed their sweet time to register what has just happened. Only she and Emerie were left in the library now, their alarmed stares mirroring each other.

“How bad is he?” Asked Gwyn, needing to know what was coming her way if she wanted to help Nesta in any useful way.

Emerie just looked at her for a long moment, her dark eyebrows tipping upward. From concern to sympathy. No, commiseration.

“It’s not Cassian,” she said at last.

Gwyn’s heart dropped, free-falling to the ground. No. No, no, no, no. Her feet moved on their own accord, pushing past Emerie and toward the doors. To go where she didn’t know. She just needed to go. She felt the faint presence of her friend at her heels, saying something to her—of that Gwyn was almost sure—but she couldn’t hear a word over the high-pitched sound filling her head. It reminded her of that one time when Azriel flew them so high above the clouds her teeth started clattering from the frigid air and her ears popped. She threw it right back at him, screaming at the top of her lungs when he stilled his wings and hold her tight to him as they pummeled back toward the green of the mountains. The adrenaline rush left her so dizzy she couldn’t even stand on her own once Azriel got them both back to safety. She remembered throwing up her breakfast and then asking the Shadowsinger for a second round. She would laugh at the memory now if she hadn’t come to a stop in front of an open doorway, her eyes swiftly scanning the room. Not him, not him, not—

She registered the High Lord and his second, keeping themselves out of the way on the side of the room, following everyone’s movements like hawks, and not far from them stood Morrigan. Concern lined her usually soft features, yet she was still too much of a coward to just— Stop. Not now. She stepped further into the room, finding Nesta’s eyes next: she was glued to her mate’s side, trying to reign in her relief. She tipped her head toward the other side of the room, where her sisters stood around—

“Azriel,” Gwyn breathed, her voice no more than a strangled whisper.

He was on his knees, eyes closed, his chest barely rising enough for air to fill his lungs. His armor had already been discarded, left in a puddle of dark metal on the carpet, and the shirt—torn open on the back—was dripping with blood. His blood.

Elain’s hands were cupping his face, mumbling sweet nothings to him as he failed to contain his pained grunts whenever Feyre, on the other end of him, worked her healing magic. Or tried to, if her slightly panicked expression was of any indication.

Normally, seeing the Seer anywhere close to him made her see red. Now she could not see nor hear anything but him. The odd angle of his bent wings, the sweat crowning his brow, the trembles of his closed fists, so tight the knuckles were white as sheets, and the slow hiss escaping through clenched teeth as he tried not to show his friends the full extent of the pain he was in. Gwyn could feel all of it—that blinding pain. Almost like it was her own. The shadows, his loyal companions, were nowhere to be seen. They’re feeling it too, Gwyn thought. But they’re scared. And she knew why.

She set his jaw and steeled her spine, pushing her own concerns aside and locking them in the back of her mind, where they couldn’t distract her anymore, and walked as close to him as she could without stepping on the middle Archeron.

“What happened,” she demanded no one in particular.

It was Cassian who answered, his voice drifting toward her, dripping with guilt, “They were onto us, a stray arrow got stuck in the wrong part of his wings. I had to fly both the hell out of there while one of us still had wings to do so.”

Gwyn willed the High Lady’s attention on her. It always left her startled—the similarity: Feyre and Nesta’s eyes were like two drops of water, yet it was impossible to mistake one for the other. The same, but different.

There was no difference in the concern filling them now. “The wound’s not clean. The tip cut through the tendon, leaving the nerves exposed and on the brink of snapping. It’s hard to proceed now—he’s lost so much blood already, and the arrows must’ve been dipped in poisons of some kind because it’s like his body is fighting against me.” Feyre exhaled, backing her bloodied hands away from the torn skin. She shook her head slowly, “It’s such a mess.”

“Let me try.”

Silence fell. Gwyn’s voice sounded foreign to her own ears, but she repeated herself nonetheless, more security lacing her words this time around. “Let me try.”

The youngest sister exchanged wary looks with the other members of the family, the only people currently crowding the room.

“Gwyn,” Nesta said, probably trying to talk her out of it.

“Let. Me. Try.” Her sharp tone left no room for debate, one Gwyn had no intention of having right then. They could scream at her about her irreverence all they wanted once Azriel didn’t look like the ghost of himself anymore.

With a nod from the High Lady, Elain rose from the floor, stepping back and out of the way. As soon as she had enough room for movement, Gwyn took a deep breath and fell to her knees in front of the Illyrian warrior. He flinched slightly, muscles tensing, but kept his eyes closed and his head bent toward the ground. One hand slipped inside her pocket, gripping the cold stone she kept carrying around without fail and placed it on his chest. Blue stone against blue stone.

“Look at me,” she whispered against Azriel’s arched ear. When she received no response, she pressed her palm against his dark cheek, prompting him to raise his head. “Look at me, Azriel,” she said again.

He did, slowly opening his eyes to meet hers. She could barely make out the colors of his irises, glossed over and covered by black lashes. In the state he was in, even the tiniest action was a struggle. Gwyn didn’t waste any more time as she gradually drifted her fingers to his neck and down his back, ignoring the raging need growing inside her chest at the slick wetness meeting her fingertips, clawing her insides and screaming protect, protect, protect.

Gwyn didn’t blink once as her hand found its way toward the bleeding wound. She was glad she didn’t see the full damage of the injury or may the Gods have mercy on whoever did this to him because she would be out for blood. She knew she reached her target when Azriel’s scarred hand shot up and closed around her arm in a bone-shattering grip, startling her.

After a calming breath and various failed attempts, she managed to let the words past the lump clogging her throat. “Let me try,” she said, hopefully for the last time. “Please,” Gwyn begged, voice breaking. She leaned forward until their brows met, keeping them pressed one against the other as she waited for Azriel to accept her help—or deny it.

He let out a deep breath, the movement causing a bolt of pain to stiffen his crunching form, before unfolding the fingers from around her arm.

“Make it stop.”

It was all Azriel said before she felt him give in and give up to the agony, letting the weight of his body fall on hers as he hid his face in the crook of her neck. Gwyn closed her eyes, allowing herself to bask in the feeling of him as relief poured out of her lungs. And with it, she got back to work. With a grounding breath to calm her wild heart, she opened up to the healing power of the Invoking Stone. It flew through his Siphon, restoring from the inside, and run through her veins, using her body as a conductor, making her skin lit up. That earned her a couple of gasps, making Gwyn acutely aware of the eyes now burning holes in her back. Only Nesta and Emerie had ever seen her like that—shining like one of the many stars in the sky. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Willing the stone’s power—the Mother’s power—to stitch him up for good, Gwyn buried her nose in his hair and inhaled his scent until she choked on it, just as his shadows shyly showed themselves again, wrapping around their embracing bodies like a dark blanket.

Mate. Oh, how she wished she could say those words out loud, screaming them for everyone to hear. The Spymaster of the Night Court is my mate.

She healed Azriel’s bleeding wings, but who would heal her bleeding heart?

#dee writes #How to Heal a Bleeding Heart #gwynriel fic #gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel #gwyn berdara #azriel #gwyneth x azriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #pro gwynriel

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brehaaorgana · 9 months

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Okay originally I was just going to post a needleess whine about bad narrative writing, but now I'm actually thinking about the topic and am curious to know more about it:

I remember hearing about defined stages of skill development in art (particularly drawing and often in relation to childhood development).

I don't know if it's got any problems as a model or anything (probably? Look it was my college roommate who actually majored in art education), but I have heard of the Lowenfeld Stages of Artistic Development.

Generally those stages are:

Scribble

Preschematic

Schematic

Dawning realism

Pseudo-realism

And with adults it's often discussed as drawing the symbol/ideal/representative form as opposed to drawing what you see, or real form. My question is this: is there a similar model for narrative writing skills?

Because I feel like I keep seeing this stage of writing where it's entirely telling me things, but never showing them, and I'm just being talked at.

Like a few key characteristics of this:

Lots of adverbs in conjunction with descriptions that say the same thing: "she cried sadly," would be blatant, but how about "—she said sadly, feeling like she was going to cry from how upset she felt."

Also just compounding descriptions is boring in general: "she gave them a cold look. It was true, her ice queen looks would freeze anyone in their tracks with her frigid gaze. So chilly."

Not just limited to adverbs but repeated explanations for things that don't need explaining, and are ultimately irrelevant to know as details, like it's just Not Part of The Plot: "He frowned at the bag of cookies on the study table. Eating in the library wasn't allowed. The rule was important because food in the library would attract pests, and it was important to keep the library clean. Last year someone had left out a bag of chips and they got an ant infestation in the architecture section. He pursed his lips. 'Did you figure out what kind of magic killed our victim?"

Loads of uncertainty about everything/hedging language, even when it's unnecessary. As in: "he felt uneasy and nervous when the other man loomed over him for some reason. It was very intimidating." A LOT of "she couldn't explain why," or "he wasn't sure what had happened exactly. He thought maybe it was ____." No one knows! No one is sure!

A lack of conflict, or forcing conflict without developing why it's a conflict. "It was too late to say something, so she didn't say anything. She lost the chance to explain, and didn't know how everyone would react so she remained silent. [Paragraphs later of misunderstanding] Yet again, she missed the chance to say something because a butterfly flew past and distracted everyone. She didn't know how to explain and the moment to tell them slipped by."

This one advances by having consequences and stakes, but only when it suits the author to use them, and often they don't have any weight beyond it needing to be a conflict to progress the story. Yes I've seen this in mainstream published fiction!

Idk are there stages of writing development? Is there a resurgence of basic "tell don't show," writing out there? Am I just more aware of it now, or am I getting too old and accidentally reading inexperienced authors too much when reading ARCs? (God save me from a lot of debut novelists). Is this just more common in fiction nowadays? I get fanfic has no bar one must meet to publish, but with professionally produced works it feels weird to read something that just feels like the editor simply didn't bother.

#the elements of style is still extremely good #i feel like when people criticize smeyer's writing style seriously this is one of the better critiques

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girlbloggercrowley · 9 months

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after reflection i am not a believer in The Theory doc

discussion under cut

-"neil gaiman's such a good writer it's impossible for him to do anything wrong ever, i am going to continually reference this fact and base the entire theory premise on this"

wrong. yeah the man is talented. but absolutely yes he has the potential to write something not stunning, AS DO WE ALL, being, you know, humans.

-it is so tjlc that it makes me nervous large swathes of fandom seem to be believing in it. lads. lads please

-not a fan of the tone of it personally, although this is an issue irrelevant to the points inside it

-several "plot holes" or weird things pointed out in the intro are just... not plot holes. like aziraphale drawing. or the gabe statue payoff.

-"maggie does some weird things therefore she isn't real. look at these coffeeshop au lesbians! haha they're such a plot device that i'm going to say one of them is Made Up, just because of how strange and unusual i think they are"

i think "something's up with maggie" is an interesting theory. "she's entirely fictional" is inane. also i have words for people ignoring maggie+nina/discounting them as "tropes" or "lesbians to help the gay men get along" like actually they had their own story... yes they were plot devices but they were self aware plot devices same as some characters from s1

-the avoidance of alcohol is interesting, but could have many explanations.

i think my biggest reason for being suspicious of this is that good omens season 2 is a continuation of good omens 1, and good omens the book, and it is between season 1 and the season 2 that pratchett and gaiman planned out. if the neighbor of the beast was supposed to start with metatron going "aha! i have trapped you all in my secret time manipulation scheme, there is no escape!! muahahahaha" then i think the guy would have showed up in s2 more than just in the last episode, for the most part.

also, this hinges so heavily on what i call "bad on purpose" that it's kind of headache-inducing. one: from what i've seen of gaiman, he doesn't do that kind of thing. what an insane gamble to throw away potential ratings/s3 for a mind game that the doc author seems to think the vast majority of people simply wouldn't be able to comprehend/figure out for themselves, from the way they wrote the doc. two: sometimes things are just mediocre

but i have a specific vendetta towards bad "on purpose" or "the villain is good actually" or "the authors have this massive secret that you plebs don't get kind" of theory (i understand that these are not exactly similar and also, this is showing my inherent bias against the essay, but i feel it's better to acknowledge that bias). theories that go "actually it's completely different" feel, i need, either a load of solid evidence or a vibe where it's like "this is just a theory though, we're having fun!" i'm not super with tone but i don't think the theory has either.

i think theorizing is good and fun and a creative way to engage with fandom. i'm not a fan of this one. and now, after old man porch-ing about how you gotta take time before posting essays in the tags, i will post this essay i wrote in 30 mins with minimal revising. hit post goodbye

#the theory #discussion #disclaimer: i have not scoured the doc for things wrong with it #cause it's not 2021 and i'm not writing a meta response. i'm past that #but additionally: as someone who used to write meta #a 17k meta should not take you three days to write.#i wrote a 20k meta once and it took me about two weeks #and that was with me newly on adhd medication #so #i think for the sake of nuance and carefulness and citing your sources it should take longer #especially if you're going to be like “I'VE SOLVED IT!! I'VE CRACKED THE CODE!!” and then like. call for neil gaiman??#you gotta be Sure.

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