#I can make like thousands more but I need to draw the line somewhere

[wolfnesta]

✨Nesta Archeron ✨

Used this fun pic crew link

#it’s a slow day at work #I had too much fun #I can make like thousands more but I need to draw the line somewhere #nesta archeron #nesta #acotar

[elvensorceress]

In all the excitement about bi!Buck, (which— yay! Amazing! Very exciting! No notes!) I think there’s a part of this story we’re missing. I haven’t seen anyone talk about it, so have some rambling.

 It wasn’t just Buck who looked at this experienced, older, queer man and wanted to know him. It was also Eddie. 

We have never seen Eddie go so hard, so immediately for anyone. To the point his best friend of years felt like he was being ignored by him. Yes, Buck wanted Tommy’s attention for obvious reasons. But he was also slighted by the perceived lack of attention from Eddie. 

Suddenly, Eddie is spending multiple times a week going out with this man. Going to Vegas with this man. Working out with him, working on his car with him, doing karaoke and trivia night with him? Asking his alleged girlfriend to babysit more than once so that he can go out with Tommy? Obviously, it was from jealous!Buck’s point of view, but seriously. If Buck felt ignored, what is Marisol even thinking? Did Eddie bother to make time for his new girlfriend? What spare time would he even have if they work several 24 hour shifts and he’s also gone out with Tommy at least three times in one week? And is probably planning more?

Not that I think Eddie’s feelings for Tommy are necessarily in the same vein as Buck’s feelings for Tommy. But my gosh, Eddie giggly and kicking his feet and twirling his hair while on the phone with Tommy was so very loud. And actually a pretty neat contrast to being distracted and trying to text Marisol “hey mari it me eddie” to ask her out. Eddie’s sudden infatuation with Tommy was a thousand times more than anything we’ve seen from him for anyone. Considering that what he stated he wanted was the magical chemistry he’d found when he and Shannon got together, like… is that not what he just found with Tommy? 

Again, it doesn’t necessarily mean Eddie has any explicit romantic or sexual attraction toward Tommy. I suppose he could? But the point is more that wow, there is some kind of intense draw pulling Eddie to him even if we interpret it as platonic. 

Buck says at the end of the ep that they met this guy and he was so cool and Buck wanted to get to know him. Which makes sense given that Buck is canonically crushing on him and going to be dating him. But Eddie was actually the one who got there first. Eddie also had a reaction somewhere along those lines of “he’s really cool, I need to know him” to the point where he’s all of a sudden spending most if not all of his free time with him. 

And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this person Eddie wants to spend time with is an experienced, out queer man who is comfortable in his own sexuality and his own masculinity. (He has so much in common with Eddie! They have so many similar interests! They have a magical click together that makes Eddie want to be around him all the time! There’s so much they can do together!) 

Eddie might not have even known it, maybe in the same way Buck also didn’t know it, but Eddie definitely latched onto that, too. Which is very interesting, no? Very— queers finding each other and bonding over shared experiences even before they know that’s what they’re doing. 

It can easily be someone who is likely confused about their own feelings but knows they are having certain feelings just not the names to put to those feelings, and consequently seeking guidance and reassurance that there are other people who are just like them who have these feelings as well. It’s realizing how they can be themselves, that they can be queer in a way that fits who they are instead of what they might conceptualize as queer because of stereotypes and preconceived notions. It’s learning you can be you and also be queer. That there are people like you out there. 

Eddie found something with Tommy that he hasn’t been shown to have found anywhere else. It’s a new and different thing for him, too. And if it were just about excitement over a new friend, why is it so much so quickly all at once? Eddie’s a social person. He’s a friendly, charming, charismatic person. He has friends. But it feels like this is a very different sort of friendship for him. 

And the fact that this is the same man who just gave Buck his bisexual awakening is verrrry inch resting. 

Also regardless of what kind of feelings Eddie and Tommy might have been having for each other, they were so going on dates. Flying someone to Vegas because you have tickets that have been sold out for weeks to something they enjoy? Like damn Eddie. You pulled a sugar daddy. 

Anyway. Eddie is queer, too. Double sexuality awakenings, ready go!

That is all! 💕

#911 #Eddie Diaz #911 on abc #911 abc #911 meta #yes I'm an Eddie girlie(gn) through and through

[thydungeongal]

So, train of thoughts.

Somewhere in the middle of 2010s (I forgor) Games Workshop closed Warhammer Fantasy line completely with the destruction of the Old World and started the line of Warhammer Age of Sigmar.

The goal was to draw new players and the change was like massive. Imagine if Forgotten Realms were destroyed by cataclysm and "continued" by Planescape, like that much of a difference. And it's not only about setting but about the game as well, it was not just different rules, it was whole new assumed mode of play.

So as a result, a lot of old players felt completely dissatisfied by it and decided to make their own fan version of Warhammer. There were numerous projects, but the most successful is The Ninth Age. It started as just patched version of 8th edition of Warhammer but slowly developed both somewhat different mechanics and different setting, very reminiscent of Warhammer but different (some things that I can say is that it handles non-European human cultures way better and gives more personhood to orcs and goblins). And what's more importantly, while I can't describe the exact process, all of it was collectively created by forim residents.

My initial (optimistic) thoughts were that we could together create like Collective TTRPG. "Generic Fantasy Adventure Game" is a pretty popular concept, and with the combined power of nerd minds we would be able to make a modular game that can be easily scaled to any degree of complexity you desire (or a family of related games if it's easier), and that, much more importantly, wouldn't be affected by corporate need to sell more products. Like there are already thousands of free indie games for generic fantasy, but we need to make a game like this a default somehow.

Those were my dreams, and after that I thought "lol, imagine if after the release of OneD&D 5E players will just do this"

I think a truly community made and community owned alternative to D&D 5e would be really cool! there have of course been a few 5e-based rulesets like A5E (which is actually really cool imo) that seek to do something new with the core of 5e, but A5E specifically feels like an expansion of ideas from 5e than just a "D&D 5e with fan patches implemented." Still very cool and worthy of checking out definitely.

And yeah incidentally should such a project arise WotC actually made the community's work easier last year by releasing the SRD under Creative Commons. But yeah, I think it would be cool! How likely it is to happen, I don't know.

#thydungeongal answers

[accelldraws]

Now that we now you can code...

And we already established you can draw...

How did you find the motivation to learn to draw and code because I really want to do both and well, I only draw when I'm depressed and in school and I tend to get really frustrated by programming tutorials which both make it quite hard to spend my free time learning.

I'm a creator by heart, so I naturally enjoy the coding and drawing parts and want to spend my free time doing that - I didn't really need to find the motivation to learn because I was already motivated to do those things!

It's easier if you stop thinking about learning as a means to an end. For instance, I've never started drawing a picture thinking "this is practice for my future goals" - instead each picture is an end in and of itself, doing the best I can with what I have at that moment. They only become "practice" in retrospect.

Oh and it's also important to have realistic expectations of progress. Unless you're some prodigy, the timescale to get good is on the order of Years and the number of repetitions is on the order of Thousands. Getting good at a new skill is an Extremely Significant time investment!

I've seen a lot of people quit various things they wanted to learn because they suck when they start (when this is both completely normal and expected - embrace sucking at something you're new at!), or they didn't have a realistic expectation of progress and got frustrated that they hadn't become a Master Of Their Craft after like 3 months. Or conflated time with progress, e.g. getting frustrated they haven't improved in 2 years when they've only practiced like once every 2 months.

(for reference, over the past 5 years I've drawn somewhere around 1,000 finished (lined, colored, shaded) pieces, made countless random sketches/doodles, and written hundreds of thousands of lines of code, and i still have a LOT more I need to learn. progress is a lot of work!)

#misc #sorry for the long ramble! #i hope this is somewhat helpful?? #basically dont be afraid of being bad at first #and dont give up!!! #and expect it to take a LONG time!!!!

[heliads]

I would love Derek Hale with prompt 10 please!

there are so many derek hale requests for this event. i mean i love it but i have to say i was not expecting it

masterlist

Derek Hale has gotten himself into trouble. Again.

He would like to point out that this isn’t entirely his fault, except for the fact that it kind of is. Derek was just trying to mind his own business as a werewolf in a town that strictly hates his type, and of course that was invitation enough for someone to try and kill him. Man, he’s sick of this. 

Derek briefly ponders the possibility of packing his bags and trying to move towns again, of starting a new life and watching it slide back to Beacon Hills again. Everyone tries to leave, everyone comes back. Maybe it’s the thrill of having to fight to survive day in and day out that makes a normal day feel worthless, like Derek is only truly living when he’s a few moments from death.

It’s dramatic, certainly, but not entirely wrong. Derek has plenty of time to consider his own strange fascination with death now that he’s so close to it. He had been heading to his apartment late one night when a pickup truck had pulled up alongside him. Derek had just enough time to see that it was packed with hunters like a clown car before one shot wolfsbane in his face. After that, he was unconscious, so there wasn’t a whole lot of time for free thinking.

Derek woke up about half an hour ago. His head is still reeling from the wolfsbane. That, and the fact that he’s trapped in some hunter’s dingy basement with his hands chained behind his back. It’s sweltering down here, one rusty fan trying to do the job of thousands. It creaks and whirs somewhere to Derek’s left. He’d almost rather embrace the sheer heat of the place rather than listen to it groan through its cycles for another few hours.

Of course, he’s being ridiculous. If he’s been kidnapped by hunters, Derek has a lot more pain about to come his way than just the irritation of an overly obnoxious ceiling fan. He can already see the instruments of his suffering laid out on a table to his right:  tasers, knives, pliers, and whatnot. He swears the hunters get special pleasure in just reminding him what could happen, all the torture he’s about to experience. All that, and then they go about their day jobs like normal men.

How is that fair, he wants to ask? How is it that these people can spend their nights shooting bows and arrows at teenage kids and young men who can’t seem to shake their own death wish? They can torture and maim like Bond villains, but the second Derek’s eyes start glowing, he’s the monster. It makes no sense, but that’s just the way things have always been. Around here, legacy is all you need to convince someone of the lines to draw.

A sound from across the room; someone coming down the stairs. They must have noticed that he’d woken up by now. This is where it begins, then. He lets his eyes flicker briefly shut, trying to remember what it’s like to stand still with no broken bones, no healing magic racing to sew him shut again.

A bucket of ice cold water splashes against his front. Derek blinks the frigid liquid from his eyes and glares balefully up at the hunter before him.

“I was already awake, you asshole.” He spits.

The hunter just chuckles. “I know. I wanted you to be ready for this.”

Derek grimaces inwardly. “That’s how it’s going to be, then?”

The hunter inclines his head. “You’re a monster, and that’s how we treat vermin around here. We stomp them out.”

“If you’re going to stomp me out,” Derek says cynically, “you might as well just shoot me through the chest and get this over with. You won’t believe a word I say, so just save both of us time.”

The hunter pretends to think about this. “I don’t think so. I won’t be robbed of my fun, not for a killer like you.”

Derek narrows his eyes. “I’m the killer? Out of curiosity, how many members of your family have I murdered in cold blood? Compare that with how much family I’ve lost, you don’t seem like so much of a saint anymore.”

“Shut up,” the hunter hisses, and throws a switch on the panel by his side. Instantly, Derek’s entire body spasms as dozens of volts worth of electricity arc throw him. 

Just as he’s sure he can’t take it anymore, the hunter turns off the shocks and Derek is allowed to hang limply once more, a faint sizzling the only sign that he’d been in such grievous pain. Yet another wonderful afternoon is ahead of him. Derek grits his jaw and readies himself to take it.

Despite his fears, however, Derek won’t be suffering for long. The hunter has barely gotten started before the door creaks open again. Both Derek and the hunter turn to stare quizzically at the door in unison. The hunter looks confused; clearly, he’s the only one who’s supposed to be down here right now.

He shouts out to the resounding quiet. “Who’s there?”

No answer. The hunter shrugs and turns back to Derek. The second his back is turned, Derek sees movement in the shadows, someone slipping away from the door and towards him. Derek can only hear their movements through his supernatural hearing. To someone like the human hunter, there would be nothing at all.

That’s why the mysterious assailant is able to sneak up on the hunter without them ever noticing. Derek sees a flicker of an arm raised, and then something heavy connects with the hunter’s head. The hunter groans in pain and rears around to face a young woman standing behind him. She greets him with a punch to the head, and judging by the snap of bone that ripples throughout the room, she’s broken his nose.

A few more hits and the hunter is done for the count. Derek whistles under his breath as the other man falls gracelessly to the ground, taking out a stack of folding chairs while he’s at it. Derek has no idea who this young woman is, but she’s clearly qualified. The hunters are good fighters, and the fact that she was able to take out this one so quickly is pretty impressive.

“Wow,” he whispers, “I don’t think I’ve ever admired someone more than I do right now.”

The young woman snorts. “What, I show up to stop you from getting tortured and it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen? You should really up your standards.”

She grins at him as she undoes his restraints. Derek rotates his wrists, trying to encourage at least a little circulation back into his screaming skin, and takes the advantage of these extra moments to try and get a better glimpse of his savior.

“Who are you?” He asks.

She glances up from where she’s tying up the hunter. “Y/N L/N.”

Derek frowns. “L/N. I’ve heard that name before.”

Y/N nods. “I’m a friend of Allison Argent. She and I go way back. When we found out our families were hunters, we defected together. Allison’s been like a younger sister to me for a while, I was glad to hear that she got out.”

Derek’s brow furrows. “So you’re a hunter?”

“Ex hunter,” she clarifies, “I had a conscience problem when it came down to killing random people all because they received the bite, so the family lifestyle didn’t really suit me anymore. I’m sure you can understand.”

“I definitely can,” Derek says, and is surprised to find himself smiling.

Y/N seems surprised as well. “You know, before I left they warned me that you were a total grouch. Looks like I don’t have that much to be worried about.”

Derek considers defending his right to be grouchy due to the prevalence of hunters in his hometown, but before he can aptly summon up the words, Y/N is gesturing towards the door.

“Come on, most of the hunters have left the house for the afternoon. If we leave now, we should be able to avoid them and get out of here.”

Getting out sounds like a fantastic plan to Derek, so he follows her without another word. They head out of the basement and up into the main floor of the house. From there, it’s a matter of navigating the twisting halls until they reach the door.

Derek and Y/N have a close call in which they almost stumble into a room filled with three hunters, but Derek hears their murmurs just soon enough to pull Y/N back before she walks inside. They wait for a second, pressed up against the wall, hearts pounding, before they judge the coast to be clear and head on.

Y/N’s car is parked around the block, and they drive back to Scott McCall’s house. Apparently there was a whole plan to break Derek out, which he has to admit he appreciates. He makes sure to thank Y/N once they get inside safely, something which surprises almost everyone there.

The rest of the pack is gathered inside, Lydia and Kira researching nearby packs while Scott and Stiles discuss further options for freeing Derek if today’s plot hadn’t worked. They all fall silent when Derek and Y/N walk inside.

Scott looks up with a grateful smile. “Glad to see you both. We were worried there would be more of an altercation, did everything go alright?”

Derek nods. “Y/N was great back there. She took out the hunter interrogating me in about thirty seconds.”

Stiles blinks doubtfully up at Derek. “Was that a compliment? Y/N, are you sure you actually grabbed Derek and not his more friendly identical twin?”

Derek flashes the boy a cold stare. “I am capable of being nice, Stiles. I just don’t want to do it to you.”

Y/N coughs to hide a laugh. “It all went well, don’t worry about that. Plus, we now know how to get in and out of that house if need be. All in all, a pretty successful venture.”

Scott nods. “That’s good to hear. I think we’re all free to go if we don’t have anything else to bring up.”

Derek takes that as his cue to head home. Y/N walks out with him, and they end up talking by her car for a while longer. Derek can’t say that he minds the extra chance to get to know her.

“So,” he says, “you’re Allison’s friend, but I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I would remember someone like you.”

Did he say that out loud? Derek is instantly hit by a very severe bout of regret, but it all washes away when Y/N beams at him.

“No, I’ve been mainly helping out on the sidelines,” she says, “Makes it easier to have a spy on the inside if no one really associates me with the rest of you.”

“You’re always welcome to drop by whenever you want,” Derek mentions as casually as he can, “We could definitely use your help in the future. It’s always good to have some reinforcements, you know? Stiles is definitely more of a talker than a fighter, so I’d be glad to have you on my side.”

Y/N laughs. “Stiles is certainly brains not brawn, although I think his sarcasm could be used as a weapon if he so desired. I’d love to be more active in your pack, though. You guys seem like a really good bunch.”

“So you liked what you saw?” Derek asks teasingly.

Y/N responds in the same form. “You could say that. Maybe I liked one of you more than the rest.”

Derek decides to take a risk. “If that’s true, maybe I could help you out with getting to know that someone. I can give you my number.”

“I think I’d like that quite a bit,” Y/N smiles, and rummages in her bag to grab her phone.

They talk for a while longer before Y/N gets in her car and leaves. Derek is left standing on the sidewalk, watching her drive away and wondering how he could possibly get so lucky.

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

#5k celebration #derek hale #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf derek #teen wolf derek imagines #teen wolf derek x reader #teen wolf derek oneshot

[winterpinetrees]

This is 1500 words. Tumblr is infectious and the symptom is “write about your ocs and post it online”. I don’t think I’m even using consistent tenses, but it exists. @caliburn-the-sword and @lokiwaffles, this is for you and also your fault.

………..

There was no way that the computer on the table was making it to the end of the road trip. Sierra has her (heavily modified, like the car) laptop on open to a google map of West Coast highways. The rich kids have been arguing over it for half an hour. In that time, their acquaintance had (re?) introduced himself. His name was Martin, his family was somewhere in the elaborate network of power that the boys had grown up in, and details weren’t important. The important thing was where they were going next.

“We should go south to Los Angeles, and then west. That way we’ll be in the desert for the solstice and have the most hours of daylight.” That was Clay’s plan. He had a goal to visit as many national parks as possible.

“If we do that, we’ll be in the desert for the hottest part of the summer! We go north on route 101 and follow the ocean all the way to the Canada border”. Brian explains for at least the fifth time.

“You only want to follow the ocean because you’ll die if you go a summer without surfing” Clay replies.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. We can go to Redwoods!”

“We live in San Francisco. We have been to Redwoods a dozen times”.

“And they rock! Those trees are thousands of years old. We can drive the car through a tree.”

Martin speaks for the first time in a while. “The hottest part of the summer isn’t the solstice. It’s a few weeks after that. Anyway, the Mojave desert will be miserable until October. You want to go north”. They’d almost forgotten he was there. It was a little shocking. The boy carried himself with confidence that didn’t feel like it should be ignored.

Clay immediately yields. “Fine. We go north to Redwoods.”

The boys put away their things and walk outside. Martin -Marin, whoever he is- follows behind them. Telling him to leave was unthinkable. Literally, the thought never crossed their minds. They walk down smaller, empty streets. Oddly empty. Well, it isn’t good weather, and that mild earthquake two days must have everyone a bit nervous. That must be the reason. Brian keeps looking over his shoulder though, especially as the fog grows and their visibility drops.

Sierra fidgets with the zipper of her sweatshirt. “Why is the fog so thick? It’s the afternoon?”

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but there was also movement, and lights down a side street. Sierra’s vision flashes electric blue. She knows that humans sometimes see blue light when exposed to high amounts of radiation (It’s called Cherenkov Radiation, but where would it come from?) but she also remembers a rumor that a strange glow might be your only warning if supernatural danger is near. She reaches for Brian. The taller boy has already stepped away to stare down their strange acquaintance, but Martin looks even more afraid than they do. He swings the messenger bag off of his shoulder. “I’m sorry I dragged all of you into this. You need to run”.

Brian takes another step towards him. “Dragged us into what?”

Sierra finally grabs his arm. “I think I know. Run.”

By this point, Clay is already fifteen feet away from them. Brian does not run. Instead, he and his friend watch as -somehow- Martin reaches an entire arm into his small bag. He spins on his heels and draws an entire quarterstaff. His ears grow pointed, his hazel eyes begin to glow, and as if waiting for that signal, four figures step out of the fog.

They are from a different genre. That’s the only explanation. The soldiers around them hold glowing guns and shining blades and wear helmets that completely cover their faces. Lines of colored light run underneath the silver plates of their armor, which seems made for speed instead of true protection. One, tall and thin and wearing the electric blue that Sierra recognized, dashes at Clay fast enough that they are only visible as a blur. They have the human boy in a chokehold within a second. Another, more broad and colored pale yellow, turns to Martin and yells something in a language that is very much not English.

He throws his messenger bag at the remaining humans. “Grab the gun and turn the dial all the way to the left. We win or we die!”

Martin turns back to his attacker and snarls a reply in the same language. He drops into a fighting stance and briefly flickers like a hologram. Brian catches the bag and they finally run, ducking behind a car parked on the street. He passes the bag to Sierra, who puts the entire top half of her body inside, “It’s bigger on the inside! ...wait”. (She refuses to die making a Doctor Who reference).

The bag is at least the size of their car. She hears the sci-fi sounds of guns firing outside and pulls the rest of her body in. Sierra grabs a gun, hopefully the one Martin told him to, and crawls back out. The gun is pretty big, more like a rifle than a phaser, and she needs both hands to aim it. It’s a difficult task. The five elves in the fight are all moving faster than they should, and her acquaintance (ha) keeps blinking in and out of sight. Sierra checks to make sure that the dial is to the left (Is that the stun setting or the kill setting? What is she about to do?) and fires the moment one of the faceless soldiers pauses for breath.

A blast of emerald green energy shoots out of the gun and nearly misses the figure. Instead, it hits the soldier just above the elbow and all but takes off their left arm. They fall to one knee, then disappear with a faint pop and a bit of cobalt blue light. Simultaneously, the kickback sends Sierra to the ground. Brian picks up the gun and fires a useless shot. He manages to stay standing, at least. Three enemies remain. The speedy blue soldier who knocked out (Brian can’t let himself think about the alternative) Clay, the yellow leader, and a short cyan one that has raised its gun at- oh no. Brian ducks back behind the car and reaches back into the bag as light sears the air right above his head.

The boys hiding behind the car look at eachother and reach a silent agreement. Sierra takes back the gun. Their inhuman ally seems to be winning, at least. He’s impossibly fast and is keeping up with all three opponents. With the cyan one distracted, Martin takes the opportunity and does something magical that leaves the soldier on the ground. They vanish with a pop, and unlike Martin, don’t come back. Clay, thank god, starts moving again. He makes eye contact with Sierra just as the blue soldier knocks Martin’s staff from his hands. The prince looks towards the humans behind the car. He seems terrified. The leader charges at him, holding their shortsword in a backward grip. They say something again, quietly, and Martin doesn’t respond. He tries to vanish again, but some magical pulse from the leader reveals his location. A blue blur knocks Martin to the ground and points its gun at his head.

Sierra tosses her own gun at Clay, and Brian vaults over the hood of the car towards the fight. He is still holding the bag in his left hand. The leader notices the 6’3”, adrenaline-fueled teenager running at him and turns away from Martin. Wild humans, even untrained ones, are very dangerous. Brian pulls something heavy from the bag as a sword swings at him. He dodges the weapon on instinct and feels the edge of a blade skim his chest. He lifts whatever it is he’s holding. A club? A crowbar? Brian holds it in both hands like a baseball bat and swings like his father is watching. The bat connects. He brings twenty pounds of pointed steel down with arms that can hit a baseball at 100mph. The armor over the soldier’s chest cracks- and so do the bones. They gasp and their armor begins to glow far more brightly. Brian is close enough to see two blindingly bright eyes behind their dark faceplate. Then a bolt of energy hits the soldier in the back and the light fades. They sway for a moment and fall with their sword still clutched in their hand. Clay glares at the body over the barrel of his gun. He adjusts his glasses without blinking.

The blue soldier is gone as well, also having been shot while Brian charged his enemy. The street is quiet again. The fog begins to lift. All four of them cautiously move towards the fallen leader lying face down on the pavement. Whatever these soldiers are, they bleed red just like humans do.

#by me #the gap years #writing that *is* #my oc stuff #the road trip

[jljavier]

Paprika

Often, when I find myself really moved, it’s by incredible pieces of writing. I think this for the most part comes from my own difficulty expressing myself in words. This ‘essay’ itself (or whatever this is) was supposed to be a no-frills blog thing but has taken me days to write, and I only managed to do so through so much frustration and self-doubt. I’m amazed by how people are able to confidently articulate themselves in a way that reveals precisely how they think or feel, but then also in a way that is so open that it allows others to see themselves, to participate. Every time I speak, I feel like I fall myself short. But I try and try anyway.

Recently I have been mulling over Japanese Breakfast songs and Michelle Zauner’s writing. I’ve been obsessed with “Paprika” specifically, the opener for the album Jubilee and an anthem about art and expression — them as both gifts and burdens. It’s a lovely track. The marching drumline, the horns and strings — it’s like being thrown into a parade. I listen to it and it’s as if I’m being pummeled with light, being cheered on, being carried through.

There is a certain bliss in discovering things within yourself, in drawing them out and turning them into something that can live in others, too. Michelle sings, “How's it feel to stand at the height of your powers / To captivate every heart? / Projecting your visions to strangers who feel it / Who listen, who linger on every word?” If only I could make even a few people feel a fraction of the way my idols’ works have moved me. I think it’s that very delusion that’s pushed me through this far, anyway — that my work means something to me and maybe to someone else.

I’ve begun a personal photo project in which I finally reckon with some difficult things in my past. It’s about my father. I guess that’s why the song has affected me so much lately. In taking on what feels so much bigger than you, where do you even begin? “I awoke from dreams of untying a great knot / It unraveled like a braid / Into what seemed were / Thousands of separate strands of fishing line.” And then there’s the great fear of finding nothing — or I ask, what if after all this suffering, what’s there to find is of no worth? “I want my offering to woo, to calm, to clear, to solve / But the only offering that comes: it calls, it screams ‘There’s nothing here.’”

I was telling a friend that this project I’ve set out to do, I need this so that everything I endured can make sense. Above all I am determined to turn this pain from something I am in into something that is simply inside of me. That way I can draw it out, hold it in my hands, fashion it into something good. Not even for others, but for me.

Four times in “Paprika,” Michelle cries out, “Oh, it’s a rush,” and every time it sounds less like a declaration and more a promise. It feels like — see what happens when you fight the fear and press into the deep and dark? Visions. Magic. There’s joy. Somewhere in there and out, through everything and nothing, there is joy.

#personal #Japanese Breakfast #Paprika

[chickensarentcheap]

I know some of you love the domestic stuff, so here’s some Tyler being a girl dad lol

@tragiclyhip @munstysmind @muchadoaboutcj @themaradaniels @residentdormouse @youflickedtooharddamnit @asirensrage @thesirenrealm @mrsmungus

Tyler gets up with the kids. Helping them with their morning routines, making breakfasts and school lunches, loading up backpacks. Little mundane things that the average person takes for granted, but he finds calm in. The familiarity of the ‘same old, same old’, always knowing what comes next and how to handle it. For years his life had been anything but relaxed and routine; the job always unpredictable, never knowing when something could go wrong and finding yourself fighting for your life, constantly surrounded by the potential for chaos. Now he has complete control over the things taking place around him. He can keep things running smoothly, well organized, predictable. Instead of gunshots and explosions and people screaming in terror and pain, all there is to hear is his children’s voices and their giggles; maybe the occasional argument or a fight that needs broken up or one of Declan’s ear piercing shrieks. But no matter how loud it can get and how much it can try your patience, it’s still a thousand times better than the alternative.

He tends to Millie’s hair as they wait at the end of the driveway for the school bus. Carefully brushing out the tangles in her long, thick tresses, pulling apart separate sections and braiding them, securing them with impossibly small elastics she keeps passing back to him. It’s surreal; that his hands…with all their scars and their callouses and their busted up knuckles…had at one time been able to inflict so much damage on others, yet now can expertly and almost flawlessly, fix a five year old’s hair.

“These too!” Millie says, and fishes two sparkly Hello Kitty barrettes from the pocket of her hoodie.

“Really?” he smirks. “Cut me some slack. I need to draw the line somewhere.”

“I’m saving the Stars Wars ones for tomorrow because it’s Friday. I always wear those on Friday,” she reasons, and holds the small hair clips aloft once more. “Please, daddy?”

With a sigh he relents, snapping both open and holding one between his lips as he tends to the first.

“Maybe this is what you could get a job doing,” she muses. “A hairdresser.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. And I think they’re called stylists now. It’s more PC.”

“What does PC mean?”

“It’s just a more polite way to talk to people and about people. Like how it isn’t polite that you go around calling people dick heads.”

“But what if they are?” she asks. “What if they are dick heads?”

“Then just think it in your head. Don’t say it.”

“Dickheads need to know they’re dickheads,” she argues. “So they stop being dickheads.”

Tyler sighs. “Do you have to remember all the bad words I say around you?”

“You shouldn’t say them if you don’t want me to repeat them, daddy.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Best Part of Me

[empress-leo]

AI art from the perspective of someone who's degree was based around AI

I realise not many people are going to read this, but want to talk about this because I both need somewhere to collect my thoughts an somewhere to comment on things.

Firstly I want to say, if your gut reaction to seeing the phrase "AI Art" is to get angry and blurt out "AI art isn't real art" or something to that effect then you really should read this, and I would ask you read all of it before you make a comment like that.

Now I'm not generally prone to sharing personal details online, but just to mention some things about my background. My paternal Grandparents are retired Art teachers and professional artists. My grandad in particular taught me how to draw. My father is a computer scientist and has done a lot of work in the field of AI. Myself, I studied art and computer science up to the end of High-School, and for my undergraduate degree I did Computer Science and AI. My entire family is either in the field of Art (My cousins run a firm of lawyers for artists and own a gallery) or computer science (My Uncle worked with banking systems mergers before he retired). It is because of these interactions with Art and Computer science all my life that I consider my opinion on AI to hold a slight bit more weight to it than the layman's.

First off, AI's are tools, no more or less than the paintbrush or digital pen, and just as you cannot ask paintbrushes or digital pens to be responsible for the art they create, nor do I think you can blame the AI. Now what I do think is that you can absolutely blame the user creating Art with the AI. If a user puts a prompt into the AI and selects an image to upload to a social media and pretends they drew it themselves, that is unethical at best. It takes no more skill to do that than a toddler scribbling lines on a paper with crayons. However technically, both are still art as the art (AI creation/Crayon Scribble) was made by someone (User/Toddler) with a medium (AI program/Crayons). Calling AI Art 'not real art' will have major implications for the abstractionists or surrealists, fields which are still considered to be art despite the amount of physical effort that goes into them. Of course the debate about what makes something 'art' is centuries old at best, and if you're not careful with your definitions then people who you didn't intend to be caught up in your campaigns will be. I would posit that rather than calling AI art 'not real art' it should be called 'low-effort Art' instead.

Secondly, I would like to address the 'AI art is stealing' complaint (this section will get a bit philosophical). Now whilst it's true that an AI model is built on hundreds of thousands of sample images (some of the modern ones use millions) the more images get sampled, the harder it is to recognise who the artists that were sampled were. My question to you would be where is the line drawn between an AI sampling hundreds of thousands of images to produce a piece of work, and an artist training themselves on previous artists works and references until they can confidently produce their own work? In the 19th Century the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, the most prestigious art school in the world at the time, had a curriculum which involved copying drawings and paintings from other artists. The students were taught to copy the master's methods of producing light and shading and other techniques. Can it not be argued that this is a more streamlined version of what AI art is doing? And remember, many artists are able to be described as being 'influenced' by certain other artists, because the hallmarks and styles of one artist can clearly be seen in the other's works. One of the biggest complaints with AI art is that it doesn't reference the artists it's sourced from, but under plagiarism law, if you cannot identify any particular part of the work the was expressly copied from your art, then you cannot sue someone for plagiarism. Plagiarism law is doubly complicated in the realm of fine art, as copying a work but labelling it as a copy doesn't necessarily count as plagiarism in most cases, whereas copying an artist's style but not any specific piece then labelling it as theirs and selling it does count as stealing/fraud in most cases. (The specifics vary and I don't have time to get into all the nuances of Art Law here, but it should give you some idea of the difficulty in regulating it.) Now obviously there's a difference when you can clearly tell that the AI art was 'inspired' by some human artist's work. I see this most often in programs that are designed to take a 2D image and make a 3D model out of it. In those situations yes, the AI artist (especially if they're trying to pass it off as their own work) should be called out for their scumbaggery, though again, whether or not it really counts as stealing is dubious.

Regarding copyright, I don't think art produced solely through the medium of AI should count for copyright. Now whilst I acknowledge the existence of the Naruto case, I don't think it's the best long-term solution for copyright law. (specifically because classifying all art done as human or non-human with non-humans not being able to hold copyright will have serious implications for transhumanists and any theoretically sentient aliens that might have developed their own cultures) In my opinion a better solution would be to say that unless a piece of art is reproducible by the artist, then copyright should be withheld until an artist can reproduce the image (with about 5% tolerance). Of course the implication this has is for photographers. If you're taking a photograph of something like a thunderstorm then it's nearly impossible to recreate that image exactly. I admit I don't have a perfect solution for this, though one thing I can imagine is if the photographer takes two photos, then the metadata will show that the two photographs are technically different, but still look the same. Of course this wouldn't work for non-digital photographs, which is why I said it's not a perfect solution.

I would also like to propose two hypothetical situations, and whether or not the AI art would be considered unethical in those contexts.

A community of artists get together and produce enough works of art that they are able to create an AI art Generator based solely on their works. No works from outside the community are ever used in the AI training and every artist in the community agrees to let their works be used for the AI training. Any time a piece of art is created with the AI, part of the metadata includes a list of every artist in the community. Is producing art with this specific AI program still unethical?

You have trained an AI program to produce art based purely off your own work. No other artist has influenced the AI program. Now, anytime you get asked for a commission you simply ask the AI program to create the art for you. Is this unethical?

Now these hypotheticals may be unrealistic, but that's the point of hypotheticals. And frankly I don't think they're that unrealistic.

Lastly, I would like to remind people that the creators of these AI systems did not intend to create this problem. The reason these AI systems were created in the first place (not counting Midjourney and programs like that) was either to test theories about computing, to see if we could create AI that could recognise things we couldn't, and frankly just to see if we could. I can 100% promise you that no-one working on these projects wanted to harm you or your livelihood. To show an example of this let me share with you a short story about one of my friends and classmates who now works for a company that produces system to create AI art.

He initially joined the company right out of university. He didn't apply for the job, a member of the recruiting team came around to see his end of year project during a fair and after a short talk, hired him on the spot (unusual but not unheard of). The company he then went to work for was building AIs for medical imaging, hoping to create an AI that could recognise cancers and other abnormalities faster/better than humans could. He was doing this for 5 years and they were getting fairly far with the prototypes. It had been successfully used to detect cancer that a doctor had missed. They were working on creating a streamlined interface and controls so it could be used with minimal training and (hopefully) minimal understanding of the English language. They were hoping that by supplying this product to third-world countries that have less skilled doctors, they could dramatically increase the detection rate of cancers and thus survivability. They were being funded by a few wealthy backers plus some research grants. Then COVID hit. In order to just keep their staff employed the CEO made the descision to make the company go public. Within days, 51% of their stock had been purchased by a 'serial entrepreneur' and started to make changes. He cancelled the medical detection technology, and instead forced the company to start work on generative systems. (AI Art, AI writing, etc.) He was planning on selling it as a service to mega-corps like Disney so they could cut back on writing staff. However it was taking too long to implement and so in order to recoup the costs hey dismantled the company, selling off computers and data and laying off all the staff. My friend is okay with this. He hated working for the tech bro and hated working on generative systems. (He's currently trying to rebuild the medical detection system with the data he has at the moment).

My point of the story is that it's not always easy to change fields, especially with something as specialised as AI development. I would also like to make it clear (if it wasn't) that the skills needed to build a system to make AI art are the same ones needed to build medical imaging systems, so don't go hating and brigading against anyone involved in AI.

I suppose my overall point would be that AI systems are far more complex and multi-faceted than simply "AI art bad", and anyone trying to get you to rally behind actions based one that one statement alone probably either doesn't know what they're talking about, or are trying to get you to do something much more malicious than simply protect artist's rights. Treat every case you see individually. Some use of AI art is entirely harmless. An artist using it to get a bit of inspiration, or someone sharing some funny images with friends is all completely harmless. Don't just look at the people involved with AI art and immediately hate, that's a horrible way to live and only serves to divide us as a species.

#ai art #ai art discourse #ai artwork #ai art discussion #artificial intelligence #copyright #anti ai #ai is theft #ai is not art #ai is a plague #ai issues #long post #ai art community

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Hello 👋 I was wondering if I could get a channeled message from my Guides who are my Ancestors? I'm going through a transformation but I don't know how to get from point A to point B spiritually. Some of my abilities have opened up like clairvoyance, I've battled depression for most of my adult life and I might of broken through some of that which I'm happy about! I know I have huge mission for our family because I'm most perceptive and have the time persay. My whole family's intuitive though. Some days it's really hard on me because I put the pressure of expectations upon myself, so if have any sight or encouragement that would be greatly appreciated! Thank you! N.V.W.

Yeah! I actually just got two new decks I’ve been dying to use. Literally perfect timing. Also, I’ve done a post about ancestors.

The way I understand ancestors is that they are like colleague souls who incarnate into the same bloodline. More advanced souls are sometimes called into certain bloodlines that have been upleveling so that they can clear massive amounts of karma and trauma. You can read more about that here.

All that to say, it’s important you understand that your very existence in this life and body is the answered prayer of generations of your bloodline. It’s very powerful to see yourself this way. When you understand the centuries of spiritual and physical work that allowed you to come in and be a generational change maker, it can bring you to tears. The only thing your ancestors want is for you to live the life they never could. We have so much more freedom to travel, to love, to pursue dreams than they had, and we are working to make that even easier for future generations. People get caught up a lot in ancestor work and what I want to say is you honor them by your life. As a woman, every time I speak up for myself, I’m clearing generations of women in my bloodline who couldn’t speak. It’s a lifetime of clearing work because our collective trauma runs deep. You don’t need to pray or do altars or whatever (unless you feel called), you honor them every time you call your power back to yourself.

Ancestors, what do you want to say?

Part of the clearing work you need to do is tied to the pressure you feel. Basically, we felt pressure like you do, we felt pressure to survive in all the ways that entails (I’m getting a vision of a slave, specifically a black American slave and they’re toiling at night by the fire). Your job is to feel that pressure to be more than you are, to carry our weight and to find your way back to lightness and peace. Every time you find your way back to peace in the face of pressure, you heal us a little more, you help us breathe in our own moments.

What people don’t understand is that everything is happening at once. While in your mind, we lived thousands of years ago, we are still partially in all our own timelines. By changing the present you ripple effects to the past and future. You effect our struggles that to you seemed to happen hundreds of years ago. You breathe peace for me, who is carrying water miles to our village (somewhere green and lush maybe like Costa Rica or South America, I’m seeing a naked brown skinned woman with long dark hair walking through a jungle), you breathe peace for the future ones grappling with the climate crisis.

The illusion of time is used to keep us separated, but we are alive in you and you are alive in us, we breathe collectively. This may seem confusing, but ultimately what you need to do is find ways to feel gratitude for the ease of your life that comes from our struggle, our blood, our tears. At your pressure points, breathe, feel the future of the line, feel the past of the line and push forward. Breathe us in. That’s part of why breath work helps so many, our breath and our blood unites us, draw on that power, oxygenate your blood that is ours too.

You are doing just fine. Your concerns are in your head, and we aren’t diminishing your struggles, but what we mean is that you put pressure on yourself by not seeing how you are always moving from point a to point b. There is no stagnant as long as you are alive. Sometimes movement is lateral or looks different. Flowers don’t always bloom, dear one. Neither will you. It’s a part of understanding the seasons and tides of life. Connect more with nature to ground into the rhythm of change. You do have a big mission but it’s not some thing out there, it’s you living right now. It’s you existing. That is the mission.

You feel the weight of your magnificent existence. That pressure you feel from us, that is you feeling our cries to the universe “all those years ago” which are now too. That’s why you must find your way back to peace, to help us heal in those hard moments. We feel your cries too. Isn’t it beautiful when you begin to understand how deeply we are all connected. You need to release expectations about what spiritual growth and about what blooming looks like. So much of humanity in your era has been warped by progress. Rest is still progress. Progress is an illusion that is framed by expectations of improvement. For something to need to move forward it must not be okay where it’s at and everything is always where it’s meant to be.

Don’t progress merely to keep from stillness, instead feel the energy of the activity you are engaging in (for it has its own desires too). Listen to what it wants and flow with it. Is something asking to be created through you, allow yourself to let energies flow through you. Don’t try to control the energies, let them flow and lead. This is how you surrender to the flow of life. You need to separate being from doing, doing comes from being, being does not come from doing. You are doing amazing. Love yourself more. Feel the true gift you are to us and our bloodline. You can cry to us anytime and we will lend our power, our breath and blood to you, it will surge, only do this in the calmest meditative states. It may feel like anxiety when it comes in, trust it. It’s just your system reacting. We love you. You got this. As long as your alive you’re living.

Chakra exploration cards

Solar Plexus— in what ways are you battling self doubt or a lack of self trust?

Healing mantra: I trust wholeheartedly in the spirit that animates me, the heart that guides me, and the path that calls me, I am confidently me

The opposite of fear is trust, the root of trust is love. To me this is confirming back what your ancestors were saying about how this pressure is all in your mind, created by your own lack of trust in your own divinity and that of all that surrounds you.

Crown Chakra— how can you bring more purpose, presence and intention into your daily life?

Healing mantra: I hold the power to direct the energy of my days and consciously craft my most fulfilling and meaningful reality.

More confirmation of what they are saying about coming to understand your place in your bloodline but also in time and space. When you understand the weight of your power and existence, you will begin to feel more purpose.

Crown chakra— when do you feel most aligned and at peace within yourself?

Healing mantra: I’m at peace in this body, I’m at peace in my heart, I’m at peace in my mind & I am at peace in this moment.

Ultimately I believe you have some healing work to do around your crown and solar plexus. Here’s my post on solar plexus chakra for some advice. For crown chakra work, spend time in silence and in nature. Meditate and try automatic writing. It means there’s a block in you receiving divine energy and to unblock that you have to be still enough and quiet enough to create a clear channel.

Would love to know how or if this resonates! Good luck!

#channeled message #chakra work

[swallowsshit]

Some pokemon thoughts

My friend @dumpsterfiresons sent me these videos in the hopes of eliciting some thoughts from me on them:

I would suggest finishing the Scarlet/Violet before watching them. Similarly, to understand my thoughts on them please watch the videos first. Lets put my thoughts under a cut. I should warn that this is not entirely coherent.

Okay, Points of similarity brought up in the videos:

Crystalline structures

Light

Responsible for region's Gimmicks

Came from somewhere other (Ultra Space, legit actual space, something else maybe)

A few points of timelines lining up and possibly being connected to one another

Points not brought up:

2 of them have confirmed second forms, the third we know too little about but can suspect a second form based on evidence.

Things that also come from space:

Deoxys (Has multiple forms, brain appears to be a crystal structure according to Bulbapedia)

The Elgyem line (No multiple forms but possible gem like structures)

Minior (Multiple forms, mineral form)

The Cosmog line (Acknowledged in videos)

Solroc and Lunatone (Mineral)

I am fascinated, though, by the connecting line between all the space pokemon I could find (Leaving out the creation legends, though from what I can tell they all have their own private pockets of reality, and Dialga literally appears to have a diamond in it's chest. Pearls aren't created the same way crystals are, so Palkia is disqualified despite literally being the legendary of space, likewise Giratina's only points of similarity are coming from somewhere other and causing Alphas.)

I really hope I'm not barking up the wrong tree by finding this thread because it would legit be so cool if they pull in Deoxys to this whole mess. It's story sounds so similar, but on a smaller scale and much more recent, to what was described for Eternatus and Disk pokemon. It's literally a mythical that rode in on an asteroid. I would love some lore for Solroc and Lunatone, but that's more of a stretch as they don't have legendary/mythical status.

The connection to wishes brings us something else though:

"Jirachi: Wish Pokémon" "Jirachi hibernates for extensive periods, forming a protective crystalline shell as it sleeps." "Two yellow streamers flow from Jirachi's back, resembling comet tails" "The anime further reveals that Jirachi's awakening is linked to the Millennium Comet and that its third eye has the ability to absorb the energy Jirachi needs for hibernation." [- Bulbapedia: https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Jirachi_(Pok%C3%A9mon) ]

For Lore reasons it makes sense that we don't see Jirachi much, which is sad. I am fascinated by the implications of a connection though. I want there to be a connection here holy hell. We don't know much of Jirachi's origins, we only know it's established pattern, and since that pattern takes so long to complete we can assume Jirachi has been around for longer then reliable records because how else would we know it's that consistent. Jirachi's head looks like a star. Jirachi looks baby. Jirachi, a creature that only wakes up for 7 days every thousand years looks baby. I wonder if the broken remains of Jirachi Crystal Shells have any effect on the local ecosystem. Perhaps an origin for at least some rock/ground types?

What would happen if you carried Jirachi in it's crystal shell into Area Zero? Putting that much wish power in one place is probably unwise.

I wonder which space pokemon most closely resembles the Millennium Comet and if you could artificially wake Jirachi up that way. Would that be wise? Would that hurt Jirachi? Would that evolve Jirachi as pokemon evolution comes from energy they have either stored or drawn from an outside source and waking Jirachi up early would lead to it having spare reserves? What happens then? Is Jirachi the first extra-terrestrial pokemon? Is it drawing the others closer?

Many questions, not many answers.

#pokemon #Pokemon Scarlet and Violet spoilers #pokemon spoilers #Pokemon theory #Youtube

[vizivoir]

Things are awful in the world today. You already knew that. But you might not know that there’s a silver lining: there has never, and I mean NEVER, been a better time to spend less time on Twitter!

But hey, you might say, I can’t do that! Sure, I use Twitter too much, but only because I'm desperately looking for even a momentary distraction from the hellscape nightmare that is my reality. I hear you! I’ve been there!

But ask yourself this: is Twitter really making you feel better? Is it worth the handful of decent jokes, or memes, or drawings you happen to see, in between people’s reactions to all the horrible, awful News?

And so, I present to you: 4 EASY STEPS to reduce your Twitter usage!

Move your Twitter app! Put it somewhere inconvenient to access on your phone, erasing your muscle memory and breaking your habit. Your monkey brain might even forget it exists!

Change your notification settings! Blocking all of them is best, but you might still want to know when a friend DMs you or something. And remember, there is no reason apart from account security that Twitter should be emailing you!

Block elements with a plugin! If you use Twitter through a browser, install Better Twitter (Firefox) (Chrome) to hide anxiety-inducing features like trending tags, like/retweet count, and follower count.

Just log off! It might not work forever, but seeing a login screen whenever you try to access Twitter is a great reminder that you’re trying to spend less time on Twitter. Extra good if you can make it harder to log in by having your device forget your username & password!

But hey, you might say again, this all seems too tame. I hate Twitter with the fiery burning passion of a thousand suns, and I hope to never give them my time or energy ever again. Nice! I’m with you there! Here’s your best option yet:

That’s right, just uninstall Twitter! It couldn’t be easier.

Of course, the hard part is keeping it uninstalled when you’re bored out of your skull and you get the compulsion to stay updated on The News.

So here are 4 simple ways to resist the urge!

Remember: you are not a bad person! You don’t need to form an opinion on every facet of every piece of News happening all over the world. Literally nobody is capable of devoting that much attention to social issues! That is an absurd expectation, and you will burn yourself out!

Develop relaxing hobbies! Remember how much you wanted to get back into art, or knitting, or baking, or hiking? Instead of checking Twitter, go do just 5 minutes of that! Take the first few steps: gather materials, do a warmup, or plan a time/location. Maybe you’ll even want to do more than just 5 minutes!

Ask for help! If you know someone else who also wants to quit Twitter, keep each other updated on how it’s going. You can also ask a trusted friend to give you levelheaded, non-sensationalist updates on The News!

Start actual conversations! IRL is the gold standard, but texting or DMing people is almost as good! Bring up a shared interest, life update, or fun memory. This can be a little more stressful than just responding to people’s posts, but it’s more personal, and it shows you care!

And there you have it, folks! Reblog this post if it helped you, and go take back your time and your mental health!

#roe v wade #roe vs wade #roe versus wade #supreme court #abortion rights #abortion #womens rights #reproductive rights #reproductive health #social media #twitter #mental health #overturned #social justice #roe vs. wade #united states

[priscilla9993]

@wicked-storybrooke Going off of your thoughts, “One minute it seems we're meant to believe that even the great height of the tower isn't enough distance (otherwise he could have spoken to her from there) and the next he's merely a few feet away from her in the letter scene. It could be that physical obstructions hinder the curse's full effects (e.g. "fewer trees and walls in our way")”, I feel the exact same way on the latter.

@fairytalepsuedonym gonna reach and try to rationalize the passing of the letter

I wonder if Gothel amplified Alice’s screams for help that sounded like deafening echoes for Killian to hear after he got tossed out, another form of torment. Wouldn’t put it past her as I still think what young Alice screamed was a bit ooc. I remember reading an Ouat blueprint on the tower being around 80 ft, a scaled drawing of Alice, the Troll, and the tower somewhere. I know from playing with my brothers in a forest/national park once, that across about 24 ft, we could yell at each other and hear the sound, but not make out a word. I think it’s easier to hear a person from above yelling down than it is from below, although the accuracy with nature is a confounding variable (i.e. wind, animals, bug noises, tree density). 

The radius of the poisoned heart curse is another thing to factor. I agree with your headcanon, having also thought the same myself, that time + distance apart loosens the poisonous barrier temporarily. We can document 7x08, 10, 13, 20, 21, and 22 as clear indicators. I got long food for thought about this so it’s going under the break.

7x08

Killian and Alice reunite for the first time in ages, him magically younger and her all grown up. They get up the closest they’ve been in ages, maybe about two or three arms length away for caution and he’s fine. *cue cute hug that turns into dramatic whump and sadness* Alice couldn’t even stand the same meters away from him, and even while running away, he was still clutching his chest and screaming out in pain, groaning as the poison ravaged through his heart, restarting what he hadn’t felt in ages. 

We see Killian later on a cot of warm furs in a tent, still weak and needing to be watched over. Alice is nowhere near, entirely in another realm and yet we can see how much their short embrace had cost him. He’s unable to move and seemingly strained in his efforts of just putting his thoughts together, barely mustering whispers as he clutched the White Knight chess piece Ella handed to him. In typical Jones fashion, he tries to be a fortitude of strength, stating that he’d “go through that pain a thousand times over, just to see her again.” I’d assume he was in bedrest for a week, even with healing magic used on him, grumbling that he was fine while his heart was permanently closer to the end of its lifespan.

7x10

Alice stands nearby, hiding behind a tree as he draws near, Rumple making light to her presence. The father and daughter are close once more, our timeline being at least over eight years since he had the poison reinvigorated drawing him back. I reckon they are no more than eight feet apart, but it’s the least of their concerns with the notion of a casted dark curse looming over them. They’ve corresponded so much over paper that Alice is empty handed for him. Killian manages to talk to her without immediately screaming out in pain as she exchanges worries and he comforts her. Robin’s special letter from Alice is passed, one where she dropped and made more distance as he picked it up and they went back to a tree in the way, them as parallel lines seesaw. Even in the dark midst, they still manage to bring light to the situation, hoping that with the curse, they’ll be able to meet again as Alice puts it, “With fewer trees and walls in the way.” 

7x13 and 19

Tilly is entranced in a spell, unable to get free of the world changing casting and nor does she want to. Rogers tries to pull her away from the circle, knowing she would never want anything to do with it, being part of the Witch’s schemes. He even uses the word himself, having seen unexplainable things in the slums of the theater. He’s safe, protected by being in a world without magic, that is until he touches Tilly, the magical barrier broken and seeping into him enough magical particles to revitalize the poison in his heart. Rogers is drenched in pain, barely able to walk himself out of there, and that’s how strong the volatile curse is, an example of how it worked in our world.

When Killian and Alice are first cursed, her branded and him marked by the green glow on his chest, he still feels extreme pain after being teleported to the base of the tower, a distance away too. Probably the nicest thing Gothel ever did for him, ironically saving his life bc I don’t think he could, mentally or physically, have scaled the wall well in his crumpled painful state, tirelessly focused on breathing. We see Killian is barely able to stand, propped on his knees, where we can only assume he hobbled away in pain, making promises to himself and Alice that he’d be back. Clearly impossible as he could never find her again until after she had escaped.

7x20

They’re all awake after Henry and Regina’s parental TLK, but Killian took a stand by holding Alice’s hand and being by her side during the magical showdown with Gothel. Much as the man said Alice was “making him stronger”, we can see him resisting the phenomenal pain to give her courage to fight her very real nightmare. The toll leads to him being wheeled onto a gurney to the hospital, dispatched after some time as the doctors surely couldn’t do more than stabilize what probably seemed like a heart attack. Killian goes through a lot... 

7x21 and 22

Survivor he may be, but he can’t deny that Lady Luck was on his side. Killian’s time was ticking and he knew it. The whump in this made my heart soar and cry. Henry knocking him out with a candelabra and Captain Floor returns, nearly freezing to death, ah, where were we? Right, Poison Heart Curse detectives we are here. ;) At the grand table, strategy planning room, there was no doubt that there was enough distance between him and Alice for the finale episodes. Heck, he gets freed from a winter landscape/snow globe conundrum only to get hit with poison from her just stepping a foot closer in the wide library room span. 

So umm, yeah, Killian stands a distance away from the round table. Alice eventually joins a mission of what should have been just a trio team of him, Robin, and Henry, failing to be “good at keeping far away enough for safety”, a grimace on his face. 😐 Oh boy, this cannot be good as he struggles to fight and stand with Robin by his side later, Alice being far away with Henry to save Regina (at a dungeon in the middle of a forest?). Killian is full of sweat and worry, happy to give his blessing at Robin’s proposal to marry Alice, but he fears his life is at its end, believing his heart will give out before walking his little girl down the aisle. The last straw and burst of poison takes hold the moment he risks his life in the dark book, portal sucking scene, grabbing hold of Alice and making sure she never has to suffer a lonely fate of towers again. (It might have been an ice biome/Arendelle from the props but I’m disregarding that as a worst fate). 

Thankfully, our Rumple values them over his own life, seeing it as a win win since he was ready to either be with Belle or have to repent in hell for his crimes. Killian gets revived and hugs his Starfish, rocking her gently. (I will never get over that we were robbed of this being longer than two secs and that change in dress up of them at Granny’s.) The Poisoned Heart Curse can haunt them no more. 

#ouat s7 theory #long analysis post #poisoned heart curse #knightrook #s7 meta #pris rambles #thanks to y'all for joining in

[casspurrjoybell-17]

HEART'S DESIRE - CHAPTER 22

*Warning: Adult Content*  

As the patrol car parks alongside Jake Nash's ranger truck, Alpha Dane Hunter gets to his feet. 

Freya and Montreal Hunter rise as well, while Julian Hart, Kit Montaine, Martin and Sasha Hunter remain at the table and reassures the children.

"What's this about, then?" Monty murmurs to Dane, as two officers emerge from the vehicle and walk towards them, picking their way through the tall grass. 

There's a perfectly good path a few yards to their right but it seems they prefer the direct route.

"Dunno," Dane mutters. 

"But it must be important. That's Sheriff Page herself."

As the officers draw near, Monty sees one is a young man, mid-twenties, probably, with his hair shaved in a military style and a swagger that speaks more of bluster and bravado than genuine experience. 

The other is a woman in her late forties or early fifties, with iron-gray hair and sharp blue eyes in a sun-weathered face. 

Dressed in a red flannel shirt, sheriff's jacket, jeans and ankle-high work boots, she carries herself with a natural authority that makes her seem larger than she is.

"Mr. Hunter, Ms. Hunter," she calls once she's close enough not to have to shout and directs her attention to Freya and Dane. 

She has a low, scratchy, smoker's voice, the masculine tones of which probably come in handy when giving orders to hotheaded assholes like her young deputy. 

"And another Hunter, I presume," she adds, looking towards Monty. 

Dane nods. 

"My brother, Monty."

"Jackie Page," the sheriff says, introducing herself. 

"And this is Deputy Lawson. We apologize for dropping by so late. Looks like we've interrupted your meal."

"What can we do for you, Sheriff?" Dane asks, cutting to the chase. 

He hates unnecessary pleasantries. Sheriff Page stands with her feet slightly apart but keeps her arms uncrossed, thumbs hooked in her belt, authoritative but nonthreatening. 

"Well, I got good news and I got bad news, Mr. Hunter. Some of which needs to be delivered in person."

A cold feeling clutches at Monty’s stomach, like icy fingers gripping my guts and he braces himself for a devastating blow.

"Good news is the chemical analysis you requested came back from the lab already," the sheriff continues. 

"Seems you got friends in high places, Hunter."

"The right places, maybe," Dane says, straightening with interest. 

"What did they find?""Well, that's where the bad news comes in. I don't understand all the technical, chemical mumbo-jumbo, but the bottom line is you were right, and I was wrong. That fire was no accident."

"Accelerants?" Freya asks.

"Yep, hydrocarbons and lots of 'em."

"Hydrocarbons are present in most flammable liquids," Dane points out. 

"Did they pinpoint any specific signatures?"

"I'm not sure I follow," Dane says, shifting his stance and folding his arms. 

The sheriff rubs the back of her neck, her expression somewhere between stubborn and apologetic. 

"Look, Hunter... I respect you as a fellow officer and it's thanks to you and your friend at that chem lab we even know all this but... Well, this case just escalated from tragic accident to felony arson, possibly homicide."

She beckons to the young deputy and he steps forward, pulling some folded papers from his back pocket and handing them to Dane. 

He opens them and scans the contents, then glances back up with raised brows.

"Search warrants? For Sasha and Martin's houses?"

"Money is always a prime motive and family are always prime suspects in a case like this."

Freya frowns. 

"Our parents aren't wealthy, though."

Sheriff Page turns sharp eyes on her. 

"They own over ten-thousand acres of land, Ms. Hunter. That's worth millions."

"But this is our family's terri... our home," Freya argues. 

"Our parents would never sell even a piece of it and neither would any of us."

Sheriff Page shrugs. 

"Never say never. Besides, the house was insured, as were your parents' lives."

"As are their lives," Dane corrects. 

"They'd have to be declared dead for anyone to collect, and there's been no evidence of remains. Unless...?"

She casts him a half-pitying, half-understanding look. 

"No, the lab found no trace of human remains among the ash. However, at this point..."

"That aside, they can't have been insured for much, at their age," Monty says, speaking up for the first time.

"You in the insurance business, or the NBA?" 

Sheriff Page asks, looking Monty up and down and seeming to take him in for the first time.

"No, ma'am. Personal protection, formerly. I had a few older clients, rich dude types, who insured their lives during periods of escalated threat. It wasn't cheap. The older you get, the more likely you are to die, the less a company is willing to bet against those odds, unless you can match that bet upfront."

"Well, your parents did just that," Sheriff Page says. 

"Each insured for half a million dollars, just a month before their house burns down and they vanish."

Dane gives only the slightest sign of surprise, something anyone who doesn't know him well would miss and Freya has a pro-level poker face. 

Monty, on the other hand, can't hide his shock. 

Sheriff Page locks on target and keeps her eyes on him. 

"So now I gotta ask. Is there any reason you can think of, Mr. Hunter, for your parents to be in fear for their lives?"

Several thoughts flick through Monty’s brain... the Outcasts, the Mortaines but none of that is something he can easily explain to a human sheriff with no understanding of Wolves.

"No, ma'am," he says, hoping his voice carries only innocent perplexity. 

"Mom and Dad never mentioned anything like that to me."

Not that they would have. 

They knew how easily Monty worries and how quickly he'd drop everything and come running if he thought someone he loved needed him. 

He hadn't understood, at first, why they'd gradually distanced themselves over the years but eventually Monty got it, they loved him, too and didn't like to see him hurt himself or his career. 

It was a hard lesson to learn, that caring too much could push people away and it still hurt deep inside when he thought about it too much. 

Because he hadn't really learned that lesson until it was too late. 

Sheriff Page nods, bringing Monty back to the present. 

"Well, given their proximity and the possibility of a direct benefit from your parents' deaths, your brother and sister are prime suspects. Judge Peters granted the warrants on the grounds that time is of the essence when searching for this kind of evidence. I'm sorry but I'm just doing my job."

"Like you were before Dane showed up and kicked your butt into gear?" Freya asks, arms crossed and a belligerent sparkle in her eyes. 

Sheriff Page shrugs, seemingly unoffended. 

"I do my job the best I can with the resources I have, Ms. Hunter. Scientists who specialize in chemical forensics aren't usually among those resources. I appreciate you calling in that favor, Dane but that's why this is a surprise visit. As dedicated to justice as you may be, you got a conflict of interest here."

As she speaks, the others approach, drawn by curiosity and the length of time we've been talking.

"What's going on?" Sasha asks, coming to stand by Jake. 

Likewise, Kit comes to Monty, slipping his hand discreetly into his. 

In a few words, Dane explains. 

Sasha takes the warrant papers with a frown, giving them a cursory glance.

"Well, all right. You're welcome to look around. Not that I have a choice, it seems." 

She smiles uncertainly and glances up at Page and the deputy. 

"You won't make a mess of things, though, will you? On TV, the cops always make a mess of things."

"We'll respect your property, Ms. Hunter," Page assures her. 

"But it's gonna take some time and once we're done here, we'll be searching your brother's house as well. Might be more comfortable for your guests to clear off for a few hours, though we'd like you and Martin to stick around in case we have questions."

“Oh, all right," Sasha agrees. 

"I'll get you my keys, too. Been keeping my shop locked, with the little ones here."

Monty recalls the argument she'd had with Freya over the missing supplies and wonder if the kids are really who she's trying to keep out of there. 

They mill about for a bit, cleaning up the remnants of the barbecue while the sheriff and deputy Lawson collect their evidence-gathering supplies from their vehicle.

"What about your place, Jake?" Sasha asks once the cleanup is complete. 

"It'd be a little cramped but I'm sure no one would mind for one night."

"Sweetheart, I'm renovating, remember?" Jake says. 

"The kitchen's a mess and the water's off. It'd be hell."

"Oh, right. Hey, that reminds me, did you pick up that old cast-iron sink I wanted? It'd make a perfect outdoor washstand, once I fix it up."

He slips his arm around her soft waist. 

"Sure did. It's in my truck. I'll get it out for you tomorrow morning, sugar, once this shitstorm blows over. In the meantime, I'll wait with you here until the cops clear off. Damned waste of time, if you ask me. They oughta be looking at them Outcasts, not dickin' around here, where there's nothing to find."

Dane frowns and Monty feels Kit shivers at his side. Monty gives his hand another reassuring squeeze. 

Ophelia and her mate have the least to gain from their parents' disappearance, as far as Monty can tell. 

After what Kit told me about the Mortaines, I've no doubt they've good reason to fear losing the protection of our Pack.

"Elena's going to kill me," Martin groans, eyeing his kids. 

Having lost interest in the sheriff once the flashing lights stopped, they'd returned to their game of tag.

"Why? You can't help it they got a warrant," Freya says. 

"What you gonna do? Eat the sheriff?"

Martin laughs humorlessly. 

"Elena might prefer that, actually. There's nothing to find, of course but she'd hate the idea of strangers, humans, going through her things."

Freya frowns. 

"She remembers her brother-in-law is a former homicide detective, right? I mean, she's not one of those Wolves who thinks we're above human law or something, is she?"

Martin rubs his arm absently and shrugs. 

"I'm not sure I know anymore," he mumbles and Freya drops her jesting tone and rests a hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey, are you two doin' okay? I mean... even wolf-mates hit a rough patch, time to time."

A bleak look crosses Martin's face, the look of a man stranded on an island who sees a ship in the distance but too far away to signal for help. 

Then he smiles and shakes his head. 

"She's just busy. She loves her work but I think the stress gets to her, sometimes. I wish she'd... Anyway, at least she won't be home until late tomorrow. Now I just gotta worry about keeping this lot entertained." 

He nods at his kids.

"Hey, Auntie Frey to the rescue. I'll keep an eye on 'em for the night. We'll have fun."

Martin smiles gratefully, then winces again. 

"Just have 'em back by mid-morning," he says. 

"Elena doesn't like it when their schedule's interrupted."

"Damn, she a hard-ass bitch, huh?" Freya jokes.

"She's my Mate," Martin answers in mild rebuff and goes to join Sasha where she stands with Jake, watching as the sheriff begins her search. 

Freya sighs once he's out of earshot. 

"Damn but sometimes the man seems more like a dog with a mean owner than a Wolf. Just goes to show not all Matings are matches made in heaven, I guess."

Once again, Monty feels Kit's hand tighten on his as he shivers, though this time he’s not sure why.

                                                       ~ ☾ ~

After Martin and Sasha reassure us once again that they don't need us to stay and wait out the search with them, Freya, Julian and Dane take the kids and head into town to get rooms for the night. Monty has other plans.

"There's a place I'd like to show you," he says to Kit, once the others have gone. 

It's full dark and we've wandered some ways from the house, back into the old orchard. 

It looks different at night, mysterious and secluded, with the canopy of thick old boughs low overhead, blocking out most of the stars. 

"It'll be much faster to get there on four feet, though. Are you okay to Shift?"

Kit ducks his head, his golden curls turned silver by the filtered luminance of the moon. 

"Yes. I'm alright."

Detecting a shiver in his voice, Monty tucks his fingers beneath his chin and gently lift his face. 

His black eyes shine with little pinprick stars.

"Hey, remember our promise. Tell me the truth."

"I want to go where you go, Monty," he whispers.

"But you don't wanna Shift to get there, do you?"

Kit turns his head aside, lowering his gaze again. 

"I'm sorry. Sometimes at night... I don't like to lose my human form."

Monty frowns, thinking it probably has to do with the terror of the 'practice hunts' he was subjected to, the memories coming out stronger after dark.

"Well... you're not scared of my Wolf, are you?" Monty asks.

Kit shakes his head. 

"Of course I'm not scared of you, Monty."

Monty goes behind a tree, strip out of his clothes and emerge as a wolf. 

He shakes my long brown fur to settle it, then look at Kit expectantly. 

Hesitantly, Kit steps towards Monty, reaching with thin fingers to touch his face. 

Monty licks his cheek playfully and to his relief Kit laughs with shy delight, pushing him away. 

Then Monty dips his front legs in invitation and after one more slight hesitation, Kit climbs up on his back. 

He’s the size of a small pony, after all. 

Taking a few steps, Monty makes sure Kit's got good balance and a good grip and then gradually increase my pace, trying to keep his gait smooth. Once he’s confident Kit won't fall off, Monty relaxes into an easy lope, with the young man lying forward, legs tucked against the large wolf’s sides and his arms wrapped about his neck. 

Somehow, his warm weight feels like nothing at all and filled with a light, simple joy, Monty could run like this all night. 

He doesn't have to, though and twenty minutes later they arrive at the place he wanted to share with Kit. 

It's tucked away at the base of a low ridge, at the end of a long, open vale. 

Several springs originate here and one of them is hot. 

The natural, shallow pools have been widened and deepened over the years and with no vegetation growing nearby, they stay relatively clean. 

Monty mounts the low granite ledges leading up to the pools in a few quick bounds, Kit clinging tight to his back and then stop and let him slide off to the ground. 

Trotting away behind some large rocks, Monty Shift back to his human form, emerging to find him gazing about in wonder. 

The pools give off little wisps of steam, even on a relatively warm summer night.

"This might be the best kept secret on this land," Monty says, smiling. 

"Like the sheriff said, this place is worth millions and not just for cattle grazing. If my parents had a mind, they could open a resort here. What do you think?"

"It's... wonderful," Kit breathes, gazing up at the Milky Way splashed overhead, lighting the summer sky. Monty checks one of the pools with his hand. The temperature stays roughly the same, year round but it's always wise to check before jumping in. It's perfect as usual and he step in and sits on a low, smooth ledge.

"Aren't you coming in?" Monty calls, when Kit remains where he is. Kit turns and sees Monty and his eyes go wide.

"We are... night swimming?"

Monty laughs, realizing he doesn't understand. 

"Come here." he beckons. 

"You ever had a hot bath outside?"

He finches and Monty remembers what Kit told him, first about how he hadn't been allowed to use hot water and second, how his brothers had tortured him in the stream.

“Hey, come here," Monty says, more gently. 

"It's a treat. I promise."

Trustingly, Kit comes and kneels at the edge of the pool and Monty takes his hand and dips his fingers in the water. He gasps. 

"It's hot!"

"Yeah," Monty laughs. "It's a natural hot spring. Heated by the earth herself. Come on, it's good for you."

Kit hesitates a moment, then he sheds his clothes, placing them in a neatly folded pile and joins Monty, slipping in to sit at his side. 

His obedience is touching but troubling, too and Monty reminds himself not to take it for granted. 

He wants to please but maybe not for the reasons Monty would like. 

After a moment, though, Kit relaxes and Monty can tell he understands, it's not because he want something from him but because he wants to give something to him that he brought him to this place.

"It's beautiful," Kit whispers, his eyes once more on the star-strewn sky overhead. 

"Beautiful, Monty. And so... so much. Like you."

Unsure what he means, Monty frowns but then Kit leans his head on the older man’s shoulder and sighs. 

Kit feels safe, Monty realizes, with him and that's something precious, something worth cherishing. 

They sit for a long time, until Monty knows his fingers and toes will be all gross and wrinkly and my muscles feel all loose and noodlelike. 

Then they get out and let their skin cool and dry in the summer night air. 

Finally, as the moon sets, Monty Shifts again and lies down beneath a low overhang of stone, like his wild cousins in a natural den. 

Kit comes and tucks himself against him, so fragile and lovely in his human form. 

He falls asleep like that, his face half buried in Monty’s fur. 

With his Wolf's mind, Monty’s thoughts are less distinct, more a series of scents and impressions than coherent ideas but a few things make it through. 

Like the feeling that, more than Kit belonging to him, he belong to him, that he'd do anything to make him happy and that he is his one true... 

Kit sighs in his sleep and curls a little closer against Monty and his heart constricts with new pain. 

Monty whines and tuck himself into a crescent around Kit, snout to tail. 

It's okay, he reminds myself. 

It's just like any other job. 

He'd die to keep him safe but isn't that what he'd do for all his clients? 

Isn't that what they'd paid him for. 

Another voice speaks in his mind. 

No, this is different, it says. 

This is... 

                                                     ~ ☾ ~

In the morning, Monty wakes up hungry. 

Kit laughs at the growl emanating from his stomach and pats his wolf head.

"Oh, fearsome beast," he laughs. 

"You won't eat me, will you?"

Monty would like to but not in the way Kit thinks. 

With a whine, he dips his front half in a dog's bow, inviting him to climb on his back again. 

Kit obliges and Monty sets off at a quick lope, keeping to the trees, this time. 

With modern technology, drones and satellites, there's a chance someone might get a picture of a gigantic wolf with a man on its back and that's not the distraction the world needs right now. 

Back in the orchard, Monty Shifts once more and dons his clothes and then notices that his cell-phone has over ten missed calls. 

Opening it, Monty sees they're all from Dane. 

He calls his brother back and Alpha Dane Hunter answers on the first ring.

"Monty, where the fuck have you been?" he snaps, letting a bit of his alpha slip through with his displeasure.

"I...I was showing Kit the hot spring. What... What's happened?"

"Sasha's been arrested, that's what. Now get your ass over here." 

[mushroommanchanterelle]

OC Questionnaire #3

Thank you very much @elizaellwrites for tagging me! Sorry it took me so long ^u^ Here's answers from my favorite character from each project I'm working on. Ruth Pothec and Magnus Experah from Fault Lines, and Kage Coronoctis from Nocturn, and Saffron Bechamel from Funny Chef Game.

Question 1: Have you had your heart broken? Ruth: "Of course I have. That's just part of the mortal experience isn't it? Loving, then getting hurt? Makes us stronger or something." Magnus: "Not by a person, but yes. I've been crushed under the overwhelming weight of illness and personal responsibility. I've never dated before if that's what you're asking. It's of no interest to me. Leave it to Pothec and Theodorre." Kage: "I don't have a heart anymore! It's made of rock now I think? Pretty hard to bust open. I USED to have one, but I think my brother'll get mad at me again if I start talking too much." Saffron: "Yeah, but I was a kid, they were a kid... Teenage stuff. First love is always so...sweet I think is the word. I was in college. First year. I mean, I dated in high school too, but you don't... you don't really have full understanding of your feelings when you're that young...oh to be young and dumb and in love again..." Question 2: What is your biggest regret?

Ruth: "Not staying by my sister's side. When she...when...it was... She was alone. She was alone in a hospital on the other side of the world. I wasn't there for her. I couldn't bring her back. If I could just...turn back time... I'd be by her side, holding her hand so she wouldn't be afraid..." Magnus: "I...there aren't many things I actively regret. I think...pushing Theodorre away when he needed me most. Yes... I regret that. Theodorre is kind, and gentle, and sweet, and yet I shoved him to the side to focus on some...spite driven passion project. I hurt him in my arrogance, and worse yet, he forgave me as soon as I came crawling back without so much as a raised tone. He's too good for me. He deserves better." Kage: "Regret? My older brother...the one that's the doctor, not the one that helps me with monarch stuff...he's always saying I'm not capable of regret. I think if I was... I'd regret not spending more time with my sister and mom. I don't think I'd change anything other than reading and drawing and spending our days together..."

Saffron: "Spending thousands of dollars on fancy chef school to learn things I could learn by watching idiots cook on the internet."

Question 3: What is your greatest ambition? Ruth: "To bring my sister back. For real this time. Not just some magic-stuffed corpse. I want the real Hope Pothec." Magnus: "My greatest ambition is to get my name written and immortalized in scholarly history. I want wings of schools, no, entire schools dedicated to me in my honor. I will stop at nothing to achieve this greatness. It isn't a matter of if, but of when."

Kage: "I think I just want to be happy. I want a family. I want friends who love me. My biggest ambition is just to live." Saffron: "I already achieved my greatest ambition. I won the Warden Games and became the Universes Greatest Chef. Now, I run the games with a few other folks who won it. It's a good life."

Question 4: Do you believe in the afterlife? Ruth: "If I want to believe I can drag my sister's soul back into the living world, I have to. I don't know what it looks like, but it has to exist somewhere." Magnus: "That's...not a question I'm equipped to handle. I try not to think about death or the uncertainties that lie beyond. I'm not sure why, but the thought makes my chest pound and my breathing difficult. I'd like to end this conversation immediately." Kage: "I RUN the afterlife. That's what this place is. It's where you go when you die." Saffron: "I'm...not sure. Probably? But everyone I know who's come back from the dead has had different experiences so who knows what that's all about." Question 5: What is your proudest moment? Ruth: "Fixing Theodorre's arm. When we met, his prosthetic was leaking magic, and he was riddled with tumors and skin lesions from the radiation. Advent helped me work on the prosthetic arm and eye, and I healed his...side effects. I wasn't sure medicine was the route I wanted to really spend my life on until that moment." Magnus: "I haven't had one yet. Nothing in my life is worth pride until I've achieved something that puts my name in the history books. Until then, I'm worthless. Anything I do is unremarkable and deserves no recognition until the Board recognizes my talent." Kage: "I made a painting for my two brothers last week. It made them so happy that they sat with me for dinner. I think that's the proudest I've ever been of myself!"

Saffron: "Winning the Warden Games. That stupid game show was the culmination of a life's work at cooking and baking, and I did it all alone and in a wheelchair. Nobody can take that feeling from me, even if they tried. I've never felt that capable in my entire life." Tagging: @omniblades-and-stars, @korblez, @interstellar0range826, @kashi-chan98, @goodluckclove, and anyone else who wants to play c: Your questions for your OCs are

What is the greatest secret you keep from your loved ones?

If you could rewrite one moment in your life, what would it be?

What is your happiest memory?

What is your strongest, most unshakable belief?

What is the dumbest thing that's ever happened to you?

#this looks fun c: #this looks fun #tag game #oc #original character #fault lines #nocturn #silly chef game #ingredients

[cosmicyeen]

Sudden desire to ramble out of nowhere BUT I've just come across a conversation people are having about AI images, and how some artists are feeling demotivated because they'll never be "as good as the AI," and that was a shock to me. I don't think I've ever looked at AI art with any kind of jealousy, nor with disappointment at not meeting that "level," even though the images are otherwise aesthetically good to look at.

So of course I wondered, why didn't I have that reaction to what is objectively technically proficient imagery? The desire to have my art look a certain way has always been with me, especially when I was learning as a kid, and admittedly I do still look at others' art with envy at times.

But, by default my brain never looked at AI art with anything other than the depth I might look at a billboard ad with. I see more or less pleasing images, and nothing to prop them up.

This isn't to say I think I have some superior viewpoint here; if AI art had been a thing when I started out (or even if i had just not found a different mindset around art as a whole) I likely would have felt that same kind of demotivation.

I'm also not saying art needs to mean something explicit or profound every time, the whole "AI images as "real" art" thing is a fascinating discussion imo, but whether one considers it art is also not really relevant to my point here.

This is more an explanation of a mindset I didn't realize I had been building, and it's kind of nice to look back and realize how my mind's changed over the years I've been drawing. There were probably two main points where this happened.

For one thing, the things I value in art are different, and thus my taste has changed. I used to wish my art could be hyperrealistic, and this is fine as a goal of course, but it wound up being a goal I drifted from over time as I found less and less satisfaction with just repeating images in front of me. I noticed realism suddenly having value to me not for what it perfectly reiterates, but for how much time and raw skill it takes to get to that point. Nonetheless, I wanted to keep going, to make my *own* images, to see what rules I could break and reinvent for myself.

Same goes for the art of others; I value the skill I can see behind each line, and I wonder what each stroke and dot and color choice means and comes from, what they choose to add and bend and leave out instead of just mimic.

The other, and main underpinning of this mindset finally happened when I got into spinning and fiber arts. I used to prefer the look of chunky "homespun" yarn and weavings, not understanding the appeal of the otherwise-visually-boring-threads of uniform thickness I would see. But, after I got into it and saw how much time and raw skill it takes to spin yarn, and I saw others share their skeins of a uniformity and lightweightness that I still havent gotten near skill-wise, the once uninteresting fiber arts began to suddenly become so much more interesting to me.

Chunky and art yarns are still good, don't get me wrong, but they're just the beginning now. Lace, something I never thought twice about, suddenly became a baffling complexity of knots and loops.

Embroidery, defined not just by the final image, but by every stab of the needle and pull of the thread.

A uniform white rag, now known by the patience needed to clean every fiber, spin every thread to such a light weight, and align it all perfectly on a loom.

Every line in a drawing, a shape someone has drawn a thousand times before, honing muscle memory and understandings of balance and color and contrast in both conscious and unconscious ways. As far as I'm concerned, the imperfect circle someone has drawn a thousand times is more interesting than the perfect one, and every perfect circle takes on a life of its own when used as a tool and not an aspirational goal.

Somewhere along the line, I began seeing a kind of awe in artwork that I can only describe as an awareness of the crystallization of time. And I think that's why AI images don't give me any sense of insecurity as an artist

#to be clear i don't personally consider AI art to be art for the same reason i don't consider a google search results page to be art #but i also don't feel the desire to strongly assert that point as i think it's risky business to draw too hard of a line in the sand- #for what makes something “real art” even if i am otherwise pretty sure that line would be drawn well #but again that goes up to the line where i'd be defining something i consider inherently undefinable #ai art discussion #art discussion #idk what this would even be tagged as i'm more just airing out my brain at this point #yeen yelling