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cutebutalsostabby · 2 months

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iirc you said in another post that the time between ALTTP and OOT was either 80 or 400 years. i haven’t played ALTTP yet but love timelines - are those numbers in the game somewhere?

I think I came up with those specific figures myself, BUT I do have some in-game and official text basis for them! The reason for the 80 year vs 400 years (or even longer) options is that there is actually some pretty big inconsistency between a) various parts of the game itself, b) the official game booklet, and c) Nintendo's big ole retcon of the Imprisoning War. Or possibly retCONS if we count TotK.

(Idk if you wanted an info dump, but you're getting one lol. THANKS FOR THE ASK!! 💜)

SO. The intro cutscene.

We start by hearing of legends from long ago, about a Golden Power that resides in a hidden land. Many people tried to find it; none ever returned. One day, evil power began to flow forth (we later learn this was due to Ganondorf finding the Triforce), so the King told the sages (originally translated as "Wise Men") to seal the Golden Land away for good. The narrator then describes those events as occurring so long ago that they became legend. Sounds like a while, right?

But then within about an hour or two of gameplay, you meet Sahrasrahla. Sahasrala? Saharasala? YOU MEET MR SALSA. And he ends up telling you a story about the knights that fought to protect the sages and who were almost all killed at the time, leaving YOU, the protagonist, as the last known member of that bloodline. According to Mr Salsa, those events took place only three or four generations ago.

That's not long at all! I mean, the exact numbers may vary depending on whether it's 3-4 generations from Salsa-san's point of view or Link's, as well as whether we give that person a human lifespan or an elf one (ALTTP has some Western fantasy elements, but the later games suggest that Hylians are basically just humans with pointy ears), but that would be where my ~80 years figure came from.

One of the later bits of dialogue then mentions Ganondorf rediscovering the Golden Land after the knowledge of it was lost - which may explain the discrepancy between the intro cutscene and Sahasralah(?)'s own dialogue. (I'm taking screenshots from Youtube FYI - see cutscene compilation here.)

All good so far?

WELP. THEN WE HAVE THE GAME BOOKLET.

By "game booklet" I mean the little brochure thing that used to come with physical games up until someone decided they weren't necessary. Boo and bah humbug. But I digress.

The original booklet for ALTTP, which you can find online, says that the Imprisoning War took place centuries ago. It also adds a bunch of other new lore details, including Ganondorf's last name, Dragmire - which never actually appears in-game. Both of those things are however missing from the truncated lore dump you get in the Gameboy Advance release's booklet:

And then there's Nintendo's Fallen Hero retcon. Lol.

See, the original "Imprisoning War" from ALTTP went something like this:

Ganondorf found an entrance to the Sacred Realm (formerly "Golden Land") and went in. Much like the others before him, he was then stuck there forever. UNLIKE the others before him however, he then randomly stumbled across the Triforce, which offered him the power to make a wish.

He made some unspecified wish along the lines of "I want to take over the world". As a result, the Sacred Realm became the Dark World and started to leak evil magic and demons into the Light World (aka "Overworld").

The knights fought against the demons, allowing the sages to seal the entrances ro the Sacred Realm. Note it's unclear if they even knew about Ganondorf's existence at this point.

Sometime later, Ganondorf manages to partially break free, and sends his alter ego Agahnim out to break the seal on the Sacred Realm and merge the two worlds into one.

And then we have Nintendo's retcon, which introduces the whole idea of the Fallen Hero - as a means of clumsily tying ALTTP to Ocarina of Time. So instead of the above:

Ganondorf publicly swears allegiance to the King of Hyrule, only to later backstab him and take over the castle. He then follows Link into the Temple of Time and grabs hold of the Triforce while the latter goes to take a nice long nap. He only manages to claim part of the Triforce (Power), so his wish remains incomplete. The other parts go to Link (Courage) and Zelda (Wisdom).

Seven years later, Link challenges Ganondorf to an epic showdown and loses. Ganondorf claims the remaining parts of the Triforce and uses them to transform into the Demon King. The seven sages, Zelda included, then seal both Ganon and the Triforce away in the Sacred Realm.

The names of the seven sages (per OoT) eventually become the names of the towns in Zelda II. Any remaining discrepancies are handwaved away as unreliable narrators.

Interestingly, TotK's Imprisoning War is much closer to ALTTP's version than Hyrule Historia's - which makes me wonder if that whole retcon is doomed to be retconned once again. Of course, the Triforce isn't present at all within TotK, but it's also a pretty compelling reason for why seven sages with secret stones couldn't win against the one guy with a secret stone. So there’s that.

But yeah, going back to that initial question: no, there's no specific figure provided for the time between the Imprisoning War and events of ALttP. Just depends on which piece of conflicting lore you feel like using lol.

#asks #zelda lore #zelda infodumping let's be real #PLEASE ASK ME LORE QUESTIONS I LOVE THEM #legend of zelda #Imprisoning War #zelda timeline

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imjustgoose · 2 months

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Harry Pooter and The Eccentric Dragon Man

Hey gang I just wrote a fanfic for a Redditor I found a month ago. Nevermind the fact I've never posted, give it some love! You can also read it on Ao3 here. It features Miraak the First Dragonborn as a weird Hogwarts teacher absolutely beefing the Wizarding World:

To say that the students of Hogwarts were curious about their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be an understatement, for they had only a few whispers of knowledge surrounding the teacher that spread amongst the students like wizard lice:

Professor Miraak was an ancient man with the soul and blood of a dragon. He harboured unique powers and had spent over 4500 years in a realm governed by a tentacle monster. Both he and the monster had voices like warm honey and unquenchable thirsts for knowledge, two of a kind.

The trouble was that such thirsts came at a cost for the man these days. Ever since he was rescued from Apocrypha by the Last Dragonborn, Miraak was still on the hunt for any new power or knowledge he could get his hands on. Unfortunately, the Dragonborn’s job wasn’t enough to cover the costs he required, so Miraak found himself dusting off a chalkboard ten minutes before his class was to begin. It was strange, but Miraak loved to talk and he loved being the smartest person in the room even more. He still donned his typical robes and armour, but his face was visible to the world upon Dumbledore’s request to ‘maintain a welcoming image’. Miraak scoffed at the idea, but he complied. There wasn’t much that he could do to hide the black ink stains around his eyes, his facial scars, his blackened scleras or his slit pupils, but he at least kept his facial hair neat and ran pomade through his tresses. He heard a student whisper something that sounded like ‘cloth girlfriend’ when he was introduced to the school in the middle of the year, but Miraak paid no mind to it. Gender meant little when you were an Atmoran half-dragon who could shout people through walls, and he figured that the cloth comment was in reference to his robes. Before Miraak could dwell on it any further, his senses told him to turn around, so he did. Eye contact was something for him to improve on, since he was not accustomed to conversing with humans for over 4500 years, so he swept his gaze across the room. The eyes that were on him watched with interest, but most were focused on their books and other students. His class was suddenly full of students, time to begin.

“Is everyone seated?” Miraak more so asked himself rather than the students, spying only two empty seats and immediately combing his mind for why two chairs would be unoccupied. He must have looked confused or annoyed, since a girl with a bushy head of brown hair was quick to speak up.

“The Patil twins are away for family business, sir,” she responded in a uniform manner. Miraak quirked a scarred brow before nodding.

“Very well, I’ll make a note of that later…” Miraak answered, eyeing the other students in their respective friend groups. He knew none of the students, but he was nothing if not charismatic, so he offered a thin smile and began writing his name on the board, “the other teachers prefer to be called by their last name, but I do not refer to myself by a family name. You shall call me Professor Miraak,” he stated, writing his name in English and Dovahzul. The girl from earlier furrowed her brows as she saw the strange symbols, waiting a moment before raising her hand. Miraak gestured for her to speak, his eyes narrowing as he observed her rigid state. In fact, the whole class seemed out of sorts. When he was their age, he’d sneak out of the temple for wine and gratifying escapades, not listening to his mentors even when they threatened to beat him. Atmorans were rough, but kids of any race were rowdy, so why weren’t they?

“I’ve never seen that language before. What is it?” Her inquisitive nature pleased Miraak, being a fellow seeker of knowledge. He looked back at the board and pointed at the markings.

“That is Dovahzul, Dragon language. It is from the dragons of my realm, words that hold power in each syllable. Note how the strokes and points look like claw markings,” he ran his fingers down the strokes of his second language, “as dragons would write for mortals to read. Your headmaster would be wise to teach you this language, but I digress. You are here to learn magic with your….wands, spells to defend yourself against the dangers of this world and any other world you may find yourself in. You must unravel the truth of- yes?” Miraak was cut off by another hand, owned by a blonde boy.

“Where is Professor Umbridge? We were supposed to have her for the whole year,” he asked, visibly annoyed at the teacher change. He seemed to be the only one, since the class subtly reacted with disdain upon hearing the name from his lips. Miraak placed a hand on his hip and looked at the podium where she likely once stood.

“I have been informed that she was unable to teach further, so I am here. I am more than capable of teaching you, rest assured.” Miraak offered another thin smile, which did little to quell the boy’s concern, or annoyance. Miraak was trying to smile more in his days as a free man. Living with his counterpart had helped him attain some semblance of happiness, but he was still healing and still deeply wounded. His past could, at times, scare people off, so he was practising a more friendly look. The Last Dragonborn coached him through it for a week, being thorough and supportive of Miraak’s endeavours. It was a new challenge, so he tried his best to accommodate.

“Now we can finally learn what we need,” Miraak heard a voice mutter. His keen senses immediately zeroed in on a boy in the front, a Draconic stare briefly surfacing before he tried to mask it. The boy looked…stressed. Miraak could practically smell the exhaustion from him, further enunciated by the boy’s pale complexion and dark circles under his glasses. Miraak scoffed, not at the boy, but at the mention of him being the one to teach them after another teacher’s failure.

“Vahzah, you are in the hands of a very capable teacher. I once engaged in a battle so fierce it tore a piece of land off a continent to create an island. I devoured dragons every day to steal their power and have levelled armies with no more than an utter of my breath. I am what the dragons called Dovahkiin, a Dragonborn, and the very first of my kind. If I cannot teach you how to block little zaps from wooden sticks, then nobody can.” Miraak’s tone was arrogant and proud, only boosted by the amazed looks he garnered from his boasting. It made his chest feel hot with fire, a common trait he discovered after the Dragonborn praised him. A dragon’s pride was as precious as the treasures they kept, so looks of awe were logs in his wildfire.

“He's joking, yeah? This bloke’s having a go at wands and talking about dragon-speaking powers,” a redhead spoke to the exhausted boy next to him. Miraak snorted and gave a toothy grin.

“Nothing I do is in jest, unless you find a serpent in your loafers. That would be a prank, done in jest. Magic in my realm comes from hands and mouths, or staves, for those who have a harder time with magicka. No, I was a prodigy, which is why I was chosen to be a Dragon Priest,” Miraak stepped away from the chalkboard and stood on one side of the room after his boast. Without a sweat, he channelled his magicka through his right hand and summoned a skeleton thrall in front of the class. He had to keep himself from inflating too much for the students' praise. Conjuration must have been unfamiliar to them, “tell me now, what spells do you know to dispel an enemy such as this? Anyone can answer, no need for hands,” he asked, looking to see if anyone stands. Surprisingly, nobody stood or answered. Miraak folded his arms in annoyance, “Sahlo kiir! This is an enemy, you’d all be dead by now. Quickly, someone stand and vanquish this thrall before I send it after you!” His words triggered a student to use the Reductor curse. As the skeleton dissipated into blue crackles of magicka, Miraak nodded to him in approval. The student had been the exhausted boy, who looked like someone Miraak should have been familiar with.

“Sir, with all due respect, we already know this stuff. Can’t we, I don’t know, learn stuff that could protect us from real threats?” His voice carried an edge to it that most teachers would have given the student trouble for, but it gave Miraak a streak of satisfaction to see a mind so eager.

“Real threats can come in many different forms. Had I intended to kill you, you’d all be soot, staining the floorboards,” Miraak warned with a cocky smirk, “tell me, what is in this world that you are so eager to fight?” He questioned, moving back to the middle of the room, eyeing the students that seemed almost too frightened to speak.

“Don’t you know about Voldemort? The Dark Lord? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?” The boy seemed to be growing more frustrated with each name, which Miraak met with indifference. “Petty names for a petty opponent,” Miraak tutted, “In my time, names were a bit less….I want to say stupid? Who gave this man these names?”

“I’m…not sure,” The boy admitted. A few whispers flittered between students, not a single syllable unheard by Miraak. His pupils narrowed as he listened, causing the boy to gulp, also heard by Miraak.

“That is interesting. You children fascinate me. You live in a world where villains less than one hundred years old threaten you. Does he use a little stick too?” Miraak offered a creased smile, feeling amusement from the way his whelps shook in their seats at the thought of a man who hides behind names.

“Sorry, but are you going to teach us or continue to be condescending?” The girl with bushy hair spoke up. Yet another outburst to be chastised for, but it reflected Miraak’s ambition.

“You are right, young one. Vosaraan! Show me what your fancy twigs can do!”

Each student eventually gave their names and demonstrated their main three combat charms as the class progressed. Miraak took note of their strengths, weaknesses and which fighting style of his own knowledge would suit them the most. He eventually singled out Harry, the exhausted boy, and crouched on the teacher’s desk. Miraak sat like a content frog with bent knees and straight arms, earning him a few looks, but he paid no mind.

“In this classroom, we progress by acknowledging the best and the worst. Potter will attempt to strike me, given that he has shown incredible feats of attacking,” Miraak announced, looking between Harry and Neville with a gleam in his eye, “Longbuttocks, what is the best course of action if Potter attacked me and I had nowhere to go?”

“Go up! I mean-”

“Wrong!”

Miraak dodged Harry’s spell by propelling himself to the right. Without a second to breathe, he jumped from the wall he landed on and tackled Harry to the floor. Miraak took Harry’s wand and flung it across the room, watching it land in a fish tank. With a snarl, he jumped back onto the desk, feeling particularly pleased at the looks his students gave.

“Sir? That doesn’t seem like-”

“How do I award points to a house?”

“But- for what?”

“How?”

“You just say the number of points you want to give to a house then say which house you wish to-”

“One hundred points to Slytherin for my victory here,” Miraak beamed with pride, “yes, I am in Slytherin. Okay, work on your disarming charms and write something in Dovahzul for extra points. I will test you again next week, but if I don’t see any progress made I will take points away. Class dismissed.” Miraak finished by running a hand through his hair. The students shuffled out the room, whispering about Miraak clearly being nuts and a ‘goth girlfriend’. He figured he misheard the first letter before, but it still made no sense to him. Either way, he had fun on his first day. Harry dusted himself off and took his wand from the tank with a disgusted look, but gave Miraak a nod before he left. Miraak would make fighters out of his students and give this ‘Dark Lord’ a real threat. In truth, he already knew about Voldemort after a few teachers told him over a cup of tea and dainty sweets that he took to his office for his snack stash. He was not frightened. One strange undead man was nothing to sneeze at, but Miraak would not worry, he was a responsible and good teacher.

~~~~~

Voldemort ended up being easy work, after all the fuss. Miraak’s brassy boots crunched against the shattered glass in the Department of Mysteries as he approached where Voldemort once stood. He picked up a wand and eyed it with a fascinated gaze. Bone, not twig. Miraak snorted and looked back at everyone who joined him in the battle. Nobody had words, not even the Death Eaters. How quaint.

“Pruzah! I knew he’d be no threat,” Miraak gloated. He already felt eager to write to the Dragonborn about his feat. When his eyes landed on the students, he put on a stern face, “you all have a paper due next Friday. This excursion will not grant you an extension, unless you grow ill.”

“Professor, you killed Voldemort like he was-”

“Nothing? I know!” Miraak decided to give the bone wand a flick, eyes widening as the curly haired Death Eater exploded into a swarm of butterflies, “What!? Suleyk ahst aan mal qeth!? Now I get it!”

It was safe to say that Miraak quite liked teaching teenagers magic. Who could have guessed!?

END

Miraak’s language key, translated by Thuum.org:

Dovahzul = Dragon voice, the language of Mundus dragons

Vahzah = True/Right

Dovahkiin = Dragon born, a mortal with the blood and soul of a dragon

Sahlo kiir = Weak child

Vosaraan = Haste/be without delay, used to convey ‘quickly!’

Pruzah = Good

Suleyk ahst aan mal qeth = “Such power in a little bone.”

#miraak #harry potter au #skyrim au #miraak fanfiction #please Todd give us more Miraak content I am starving #especially with GOL HAH DOV ending this month #Last Dragonborn is ambiguous for your own headcanons because ily mwah mwah #what a way to start my Tumblr #with silly dragon man

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lumenflowered · 4 months

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Unown Mail: A paper butterfly. A message writ across its wings reads:

"Speak your message, whispered low Finish with name, then let me go I'll send to them your words spoke true Then they may send more back to you This gift I give just once per soul Let words bring closure, make you whole"

It seems you have been gifted an opportunity. You get the sense that your message will be received, even if the recipient may no longer be of this world. Best choose your words carefully.

...Hello, my old friend.

It has been a very long time. Longer, perhaps, for you than it has been for me... though I suppose that would depend on how the years and decades have been counted. I cannot be certain of how long it has been, trapped within the domain of an angered Great One as I was, but I suppose you would not be certain of how long it has been since you made a pact with one yourself.

I distinctly recall a great many discussions regarding that possibility. I also distinctly recall that every single person you voiced that possibility to, myself included, was quite certain that the whims of the Great Ones were too difficult to predict. That the risks would rather drastically outweigh the benefits.

Under different circumstances, I would wonder what could possibly drive you of all people to do such a thing. Given what else I have been informed of, however, I suppose I know.

...I am typically of the opinion that it is better to know than to live in ignorance. With that said, I could have done without the knowledge of what else you have done.

I know, old friend. I know.

I know that you may very well have met with a deadly fate in spite of your deal with that presence. I know that, long prior to that—prior, even, to making that deal—you crafted something in my image.

A doll.

Very nearly life-sized, startlingly true to life, clad in garb that I would never wear yet adorned with my voice and likeness. Alive, in a sense, in that dream of yours.

I see her in my nightmares, old friend. Alongside the curse Kos wrought on me, and perhaps upon others as well. Did you ever dream of the ocean? Of the tension in the air just prior to a thunderstorm? Of the crimes we visited upon that hamlet?

...One simply must wonder. Of everyone there on that terrible, terrible day, it was you who was most likely to attract her ire after me... yet you never mentioned such a thing. Nor did I, not until shortly before the end, and I was... less than mentally present by the time I was willing to admit it.

I suppose how little I wasted words may have been part of why you liked me. I respected you for a great many reasons, but I did always appreciate that about you as well. If you cared to say something at all, others listened, for they knew that you did not speak without due cause.

...I would rather like to think that I came to be thought of in something approaching the same way, before the end. I was not the First Hunter, of course, but I was his apprentice, and you taught me much indeed.

Still, I digress.

To perish in one realm may not be so very enduring, so long as one's soul is tethered to another. I know that it was Kos that tethered me to the Hunter's Nightmare for so long, and a new student of yours who finally freed me from it. She fought well; under better circumstances I would be proud.

I can only truly speculate as to what tethered me to this one, but I do wonder if perhaps death is not so final as we all thought. Perhaps it is less of an end, and more of a beginning, for I have found myself in a strange yet kind new world.

...Or perhaps it is something to do with me in specific, but I would rather not consider that possibility unless needs must.

Perhaps, when you yourself pass on—or if you already have, for I cannot be certain of this—you too will find yourself in a strange new world. It may be selfish of me to hope for such a thing, but hope I nevertheless do that you are in a different world than I. Or, if you find yourself in this one, that you are at least far away from me.

I did respect you greatly—as a mentor, as a fellow Hunter, as a friend and colleague. Some semblance of that respect yet remains, but I will confess that it has... drastically lessened with the knowledge of that doll.

To business, then.

I do not believe that the strange ability allowing me to send you this, to tell you this, will allow me to contact you in this manner again. It will, however, allow you to respond.

So I do have a question.

Regarding that doll: why? What in the name of the Great Ones themselves gave you the impression that such an act would do anything but further your grief and my own? Why would you make such a creation?

...I do have a sneaking suspicion, now, one that I would not have entertained for even an instant prior to my death. I would rather hear it from you, if that truly is the case.

Do not expect to hear from me again, in any manner.

Still. I do hope you are well, wherever you might be.

I merely hope, all the same, that you may be well as far away from me as possible.

There was no opportunity for me to say goodbye before my original death. Say it now I will, for then and for today.

Farewell for the final time... Gehrman.

#ooc: I had a lot of fun writing this :)#pelipper mail #tw death mention #rotomblr #pokeblogging #pokeblog rp #pokemon irl

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timevir · 4 months

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2024 - A New Timevir

This post contains some words about the loss of death.

Writing is a very fun hobby that I've done for as long as I can remember. It probably started as written exercises and fanfiction during childhood. It transformed into intricate worldbuilding as I was introduced to the hobby of tabletop roleplaying. In recent years, I've written interactive fiction, scripts, novels and sourcebooks.

But one constant caveat is that I almost never shared my work. It was an enjoyable process to convert thoughts and feelings into substantative manifestations in the physical realm. Yet despite many coworkers, friends and family members asking about them, I'd always give the same answer of "it's personal and not worth sharing".

I thought about why I was doing this, and noticed I have been living the life of an observer. I enjoy the detail of the world around me, and paying attention to things that others would consider irrelevant. I would even deliberately put myself out of my comfort zone if it meant putting myself in a location that I could see something new. If there was an interesting protest in the city I was living in, if there was a strange, dangerous event occurring in the vicinity or if there was an unusual experience or location to be discovered, I'd happily waltz in and act like that I was meant to be there. During the riskier parts of youth, it even meant a bit of trespassing, but I stopped doing that after a few dangerous close calls.

What I was not doing as an observer was manifesting that in the world. Many of my projects would be built, some even to completion, and then they'd sit in a box, frozen and inaccessible through their obscurity. Nothing I made ever felt like it was deserved observation compared to the rich tapestry of the world around me. Even in the rare moments I found pride in something, it would soon feel obsolete compared to some next logical alternative.

A lot of my life has been spent on "the grind". Work had seemingly crept its way into absorbing the free energy I had in an addictive loop. At first, it was merely a way of ensuring survival and trying to get out of school debt. It took the majority of my late 20s to get out of school debt, a feat I was able to just reach before my 30th birthday. A few more months, and I had a decent emergency fund and a "real" disposable income, assuming I wasn't going to try and buy a house (which to be honest, isn't an exciting proposition at the moment. Real estate trends caused by high demand have made housing costs extortionate, but that's a discussion for another time).

Work is of course necessary for human survival. Indeed, if we took a snapshot of lives lead across history, nearly everyone has had to contribute in some way to their communities for them to function well. The meaning of work has shifted through the various periods of history significantly, but its goals have remained the same. What is implictly understood, even if not necessarily well recorded, is that there was a whole tapestry of living that existed outside of these actions that could mean vastly more to the people that lived around them. While much of these ideas have persisted through the passing of cultural works, very rarely have we got a good snapshot of the life of any specific individual, even if they potentially had amazing tales to tell.

Identity has slipped through my fingers somewhat accidentally. It had felt much easier to sacrifice every bit of effort to accumulate knowledge, resources and a position of comfort than it took to stand for anything. At first I may have resisted the ideas of exaggerating an accomplishment, or cutting on the quality of a product to create it faster, but those values became too easy to discard when reward was on the table. But if anyone were to ask me about the morals of the situation from the outside, I'd remark a half-mealed "it depends" which really meant nothing beyond the acknowledgement strong values had merit and self-interest could get in the way.

It seemed like the intelligent thing to do because the things that were remembered across time were great accomplishments, long standing monuments and the best and worst of events moulding humanity's timeline. It was easy to mistake what was memorialized for what was important in life. It then followed that if memorialization was an ultimate goal, that the best way to do so was to accomplish some great feat was to set yourself up with as much power as could be wielded, a good proxy for which was money, before putting all that strength into ventures in the hope that something would hit and a legend would be born.

It is possible I could have remained trapped in that vicious craving for objectives if it wasn't for a life shattering event at the end of 2023. It was at this time that my younger brother died unexpectedly in his mid twenties. A whole life was potentially ahead of him, but it was cut short at almost no notice. My relatively normal family crumbled into chaos and it was shattered.

In the emotional fallout, I looked again at what I had done. Of course I did not regret unburdening myself from debt, or succeeding at a career. But in all the push for an abstract notion of success and legend, I had lost an invaluable voice that could never be replicated. My brother had lived his life to his fullest in his time on Earth. He had moved country, he had found love and friendship, and he had ideas of a future. Seeing these wither into tears, memories, and finally a grave, made me realise in the end that a memorial would not make up for the moments that would never be had again.

My new year's resolution for 2024 is to try to reestablish a voice. To truly live in the world and not merely plan a story for my death. To make sure that my friendships and bonds remain strong and not let them disappear due to the inconvenience of maintenance. To stand for something and not just exist in the pursuit of convenience.

One way I am going to test myself on this goal is to try to make sure I write something down each week. Something public. It won't necessarily be something profound, but at least it may prevent me from slipping back into forgetting about the things that really matter. Perhaps it is better to exist in the world than merely drift through it.

#new year #new year resolutions #grief

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genderqueeradrien · 1 year

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umm... if i'm gonna be honest... i dropped out of college found myself a whole new realm of knowledge... down the forest foraging for sounds that I can rhyme with orange... btw... if you even care

#text

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ananya-chatterjee · 8 months

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From Novice to Pro: How Adobe Illustrator Took My Artistry to New Heights

As an artist, I have always sought ways to enhance my creativity and push the boundaries of my art. When I first came across Adobe Illustrator, I was drawn to its reputation as a powerful tool for digital artistry. Little did I know at the time just how much this software would transform my artistic journey. In this blog post, I will share my personal growth and skill development using Adobe Illustrator, highlighting the pivotal moments that elevated my artistry to new heights.

The Novice Beginnings

When I first started using Adobe Illustrator, I was a complete novice in the digital art world. The interface appeared daunting, and I felt overwhelmed by the countless features and tools at my disposal. As a beginner, doubts crept into my mind. Would I be able to master this complex software? Could I truly unlock my creative potential through Adobe Illustrator?

Discovering the Power of Adobe Illustrator

Despite my initial uncertainties, it didn't take long for me to realize the immense power and potential of Adobe Illustrator. The software's vector-based design capabilities captured my attention from the start. The precision and scalability offered by vectors were unparalleled, allowing me to create stunningly detailed and dynamic illustrations. Additionally, the ability to manipulate anchor points and paths opened up a whole new realm of creative possibilities.

The Learning Phase

Eager to harness the full potential of Adobe Illustrator, I embarked on a dedicated learning phase. I enrolled in an Adobe Illustrator course offered by ACTE Institute and sought out comprehensive tutorials to deepen my understanding of the software. One of my breakthrough moments during this phase was discovering the Pen Tool and mastering its intricate controls. Learning to effortlessly bring my creative visions to life by manipulating Bézier curves was a defining milestone in my artistic journey.

The First Projects

As I gained confidence in my skills, I began taking on my first projects using Adobe Illustrator. These early endeavors allowed me to put my newfound knowledge into practice and overcome the inevitable hurdles that came my way. From designing logos and icons to crafting intricate digital illustrations, each project presented unique challenges and valuable lessons. Along the way, I learned the importance of patience, attention to detail, and the power of iteration.

The Evolution

As time went on, I witnessed a remarkable evolution in both my skills and confidence. Adobe Illustrator became an integral part of my artistic process, fueling my creativity and enabling me to bring my ideas to life with precision and finesse. Notable projects and milestones marked my progress, including collaborations with respected artists and recognition for my work in renowned galleries. With each triumph, my passion for Adobe Illustrator grew exponentially.

Overcoming Challenges

Of course, no artistic journey is without its fair share of challenges. I faced moments of frustration and self-doubt, but through perseverance and a growth mindset, I overcame these obstacles. One strategy that proved invaluable was seeking inspiration from fellow artists, both within and outside the realm of digital art. Embracing new techniques and approaches helped me break through creative blocks and push the boundaries of my artistry.

Becoming a Pro

There came a defining moment in my artistic journey when I realized I had transitioned from a novice to a proficient user of Adobe Illustrator. I found myself effortlessly navigating the software, utilizing advanced features and techniques with ease. Adobe Illustrator had become an extension of my artistic vision, enhancing my ability to translate ideas into mesmerizing visuals. The software had truly propelled me to the professional level.

Showcasing Your Artistry

Now, it is my pleasure to showcase some of my best work created with Adobe Illustrator. These pieces exemplify my growth and expertise, highlighting the incredible possibilities that emerge when artistic vision merges with the powerful capabilities of this software. From intricate illustrations to mesmerizing typography, each artwork stands as a testament to the transformative impact Adobe Illustrator has had on my artistry.

Advice for Aspiring Artists

To those embarking on their journey with Adobe Illustrator, I offer this advice: embrace challenges and keep pushing your creative boundaries. Don't be discouraged by initial difficulties or doubts; instead, let them fuel your determination to learn and grow. Seek out resources, connect with like-minded artists, and never shy away from experimenting with new techniques. The path to becoming a proficient user of Adobe Illustrator may be challenging, but the rewards are truly extraordinary.

From my humble beginnings as a novice artist to my transformation into a seasoned professional, Adobe Illustrator has been my guiding light. This software has not only elevated my artistry to new heights but has also enabled me to express my creativity with unparalleled precision and finesse. I am forever grateful for the impact Adobe Illustrator has had on my artistic journey, and I encourage each reader to embark on their creative exploration. The potential is endless, and using Adobe Illustrator, going from a beginner to a pro is extremely motivating.

#adobe illustrator #ui ux design #design #education #information #technology

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motheringbird · 8 months

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@the-g-m : Man,

Me: if I’m , gonna be honest, I, dropped out of college found myself a whole new realm of knowledge, down the forest foraging for sounds that I can rhyme with orange…

T-g-m: STOP what is happening

#motheringbird mutterings #life by the sea

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transphilza · 2 years

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no but seriously imagine it. you’re seeing tommyinnit & friends *(and enemies) live at brighton dome. tommy seems a little excited. “we have a surprise for you guys” he says. all of a sudden lovejoy comes out and plays Your New Boyfriend. when they reach the chorus someone else starts singing “man if i’m gonna be honest i dropped out of college found myself a whole new realm of knowledge,” everyone in the crowd is going wild and crying. then if things couldnt get better dream and george walk onto the stage and kiss holding the gay flag

#/c #kill me

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gamesunlimitedgamesbutnogames · 1 year

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dropped out of collage found myself a whole new realm of knowledge down the forest foredging for sounds that i can rhyme with orange look im jsut a simple gatherer among ඞ

#life by the sea #tubbo #mcyt

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brightgnosis · 1 year

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Having a rough time of it this morning after not going to sleep until 11 pm last night because my stomach didn't like my Mother in Law's greasy Meatloaf for dinner (seriously have no idea how hers is always so soggy and greasy). My body just ... Did not want to wake up this morning at all. Trying to still get work done on Day 3 of the Witchy Challenge, though.

Today's is for a "Home Protection Ward". But honestly? I'll be damned if I'm going to do anything like that and put it on the internet; lesson #1, folks: Don't be stupid in general- but especially when it comes to revealing your current protections of all things. That's just asking for trouble from someone eventually; if you're going to reveal them and their methods? Always wait until you're finally done with them, they've been taken down, and you've already got something new (new form, new method, etc) up in their place.

Plus, I don't need to redo my protections or make a new one right now anyways when I just redid them at the New Year. So it's a moot assignment to begin with ... So instead I'm finally taking the opportunity to do a form of the Home Blessing piece I've had an idea for, for the last half year; not the same thing, but it's in a similar enough realm it works enough for the challenge today.

The original idea I had was based on a Mezuzah, and involved Psalms 128 and 129- but did so combining the Mormon Folk Imagery and Folk Meaning of Bees (specifically Bee Hives). Instead of going that route, however, I'm taking inspiration from the piece I did last year of Adam and Chava with the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, that now sits behind my Ancestor Candle on my bookshelf; the general idea is that it'll be a regular Folk Art piece of two bees and some flowers surrounding a Bee Hive ... But instead of the Hive, it'll actually be a modified and rewritten combination of the Psalms. The hive will then be a paper cutout that goes over it similarly to those little paper popups- effectively hiding the blessing and making it look like a complete piece.

So far this morning I've already written the blessing (the final version wound of including Psalms 128 and 129 as originally intended, as well as portions of Proverbs 21); found an extra frame of the right size that wasn't being used, repaired it (it had a cracked corner), and given it a good clean up; cut down the matte board, since it was originally a dual picture frame (and sliced my finger open with the Leatherman in the process trying to close it, because the damned thing's jammed); plus done some research to get some inspiration for the art style ... Now I'm just letting my hands rest, and then I'll do the first draft sketch of everything together.

It'll eventually be full color just like the piece of Adam and Chava. But it'll take me a while to complete it ... I think it took me like a whole month to finish Adam and Chava because of it. So my aim is at least to finish the first draft sketch today for the challenge; getting to the inking stage would be great, but I'm not going to push myself. If I don't get that far with my neuropathy, then I don't get that far.

#Personal #Religion & Magic #2023 #NonTrad Housewife #NonTrad Homemaker #NonTrad Homemaking

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achronicleofblasphemy · 3 months

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Here is the Prologue to the book I'm publishing piecemeal online!

It's titled "A Chronicle of Blasphemy" and is a fantasy based in two worlds, one modern day urban fantasy, the other more medieval fantasy. The world is extremely queer friendly. Discrimination due to sexuality and/or pronouns is non-existent.

Hope you enjoy!

A Chronicle

Of Blasphemy -

Prologue.

Notes on Final Research By Absalom Wren.

Magistrate of The Sacred Circle. Second Hand of Grand Master Theylis Ophram. Beneficed Theologian of the Church of Divine Order.

I am not myself. Not as you've known me. Just as the eternity I entered millennia ago has changed, I am no longer what Transcendency has created me to be. I do not believe I can escape what it is I have become. Not escape, that does not seem right. I should be careful what I say and who I portray myself as in this exposition. I suppose that is what I am trying to relate. In accordance, it would be wise to note my feelings on Ealheim’s blasphemy, before relaying my methods in my research. Since his desecration of The Tabernacle, the violation of stepping foot in the holiest of holies without the permission of The Divine has left its taint in the minds of us all. It had never seemed possible. If anything, because we could not imagine it, it wasn’t. The mar of it has ired the faces of our brethren. Which I now must look upon with a seed of suspicion taking root with every passing glance. I have looked upon the feelings of doubt and violation in their faces and felt mistrust. This veiled paranoia has scarred me with a ruin I cannot come back from. Few of us were righteous before we began our journey in the afterlife. Even if millennia had made us forget that, the memory of it now breathes a new life in the planes of divinity.

What was thought impossible is now possible. I believe this is a good place to begin. The Divine seeing it fit to place Ealheim’s thread of life into The Baptismal Pools, was seen as an act of grace after his annihilation. We could finally witness his movements through the different planes of existence firsthand. After his escape into the Mana Wastes from The Realm of the Profane we had seen mere shadows of his actions. How he was able to survive in the Mana Wastes for so long remains a mystery, but our suspicion that he carried an aura of interference from it was confirmed. Seeing his life first hand allowed us to fill in the gaps and cement the understanding of his influence throughout the centuries. I will not reiterate what we all found. We are all aware. It lives in us now. Feeding the seed of mistrust among us.

After this shift in spirit, I set my sights back on the instigators we had been previously studying in our most recent research. With this newfound knowledge of Ealheim’s influence, it allowed me the opportunity to fill in the gaps of Cyrano and Evie’s present actions. I had offered them my whole attention before Ealheim. It was to be a petition to The Divine to reopen the channels of Transcendence to the Afterworld of Serenity. Therein those who accomplished nothing of any repute in the living world, would again be able to transcend through the hierarchy of the Afterworld. Since Jaimor’s subjugation of it millennia ago, and after his children consumed him and began their chaotic rule, I had repeatedly pleaded with The Divine in my supplication to deal with the treachery. Despite my efforts, The Divine never saw it fit to respond to my supplications. A result, I see now, to be expected. In response to Ealheim’s Blasphemy they have repeated the same castration. All Channels of Transcendence between the Afterworlds of Divine Order are severed. Something I feel needs repeating.

It is the first decree of the Clergy of Divine Order to not concern ourselves with the emotive discourse of the past and present lives we document. These fleeting feelings cannot fathom the eternity that awaits them, and in the end, are tempered away by the steps of transcendence to higher realms of eternity. When I returned to the reflections of Cyrano and Evie's lives, my view of their movements held the knowledge of Ealheim’s intent. The pain of now knowing their naive culpability tore at me. Looking over their lives and the lives of their comrades, their innocence wounded me. Or rather, pressed mercilessly against the wound of Ealheim's blasphemy. For the first time since my bare feet touched the warm earth of this church, I questioned The Divine's intent.

I must tread carefully now. While I do not intend to stay within the safety of The Divine Realm, I am fully aware of the reach of The Divine’s influence. However, I will not go back and remove what I have stated previously. It is important this seed of doubt be known so you may understand why I have cataloged this research in the manner it is presented. It is not chronological. It is also not removed from the emotive transference that exists in living souls. When I returned to Cyrano and Evie, I allowed myself to be enveloped in their mortal understanding. Or maybe, I was swept under? Truthfully, I am uncertain. What I do know is after allowing myself to be immersed in their mortal lives I felt the touch of time again. A memory burned away millennia ago. Their urgency became my own, and their feeling of loss and triumph reconnected the threads I had long allowed to be severed. I felt shame.

After reliving life through their eyes, I removed myself from the church to a quiet and nearly unused section of the Baptismal Pools. In an act of disobedience, I relived my own life. I ate. I slept. I celebrated and mourned with my tribe. I remembered my name, Ishraq. I saw my children and remembered my love for them. All my successes and failings came back to me. Including the knowledge, I did not know where my children were within the planes of eternity. So, I followed them. I do not know how long I spent in the pools, but several lifetimes passed through me, and I ached with longing for them all once I left. In my mind, scattered in thousands of memories, I felt my family as a part of me again. I forgot Ealheim. Strangely, I did not forget Cyrano and Evie. My theory is the familiarity of their love for each other, as chosen siblings, weaved itself into the pattern of my blood.

I fear by publicly admitting to the cardinal sin of reliving my own life in The Baptismal Pools I have forced my intended exile. Even if I may survive existing within the chaotic ether of the Mana Wastes, I fear I may no longer be welcome on the holy grounds of the church. My reasoning in this act was my own I suppose. Removed from the single goal of the church to document Divine Order within the ever-evolving workings of creation. Despite my inescapable suspicions of my brethren, I have become the one to sever my right as a member of this church. I will enact my own punishment in the hopes that my journey through the unshaped ether of provenance may reveal to me what is left after this willful act of disobedience. As a last act I present to you my findings of the events leading to Ealheim’s desecration of our most sacred realm of eternity. Within them the presence of time and the fragility of a living soul remains intact.

It should be mentioned before I end this final entry that there was an anomaly in my research. While someone managing to stay hidden from the oversight of The Divine is well known during the years Ealheim escaped to the Mana Wastes, a being having the ability to exist wholly outside the will of The Divine has never been known before. How this being has managed to do so and whether it is an act of their own accord I cannot say. It appears as they reached a certain level of being they have managed to remove themselves from the curtain of Divine Omnipresence. What they are and how they came to be I do not know for certain. All I can gather is that if they are possible, there are wonders of creation we have not yet known.

#writerscommunity #writing #author #writers on tumblr #writer #fantasy #online writing #chosen family #female lead #male lead #two main characters #multiple timelines #fantasy story #fantasy books #online publishing #writeblr #writers and poets #creative writing #creative work

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ella-ballentine · 10 months

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Ella Ballentine

Psychologist, psychotherapist, and disseminator. I am the founder of PsychoSick, a website that promotes and supports mental health through free access to resources for patients and professionals.

I am

Master in General Health Psychology. Master in Contextual and Third Generation Therapies. Expert in Clinic and Psychotherapy in Adults, and Specialist in Emergency Psychology and Personal Loss. Member of the Association for Contextual Behavioral Science (ACBS) and the Division of Clinical and Health Psychology of the Official College of Psychology of the US.

In a pivotal moment, I felt a profound inner calling to explore beyond the confines of routine, material existence, and the physical realm. This deep yearning led me down many paths, where I pursued studies, embraced diverse experiences, made startling discoveries, faced daunting challenges, and sought guidance from wise masters. To each of them, I am filled with deep gratitude.

My journey encompassed various realms of exploration, including self-knowledge, spirituality, quantum physics, the vast expanse of the universe, yoga, Buddhism, and numerous other doctrines. I delved into practices such as meditation, retreats, silence, and introspection, seeking to unveil the true essence of my being—the interconnectedness of body, mind, and soul. In this quest, I sought to transcend the illusions of Maya, the sufferings of the external world, and awaken to a higher state of consciousness.

As I progressed, I recognized the profound power within me to become a co-creator of reality itself. I embraced the teachings of the Dharma, utilizing the gifts and resources bestowed upon me for the betterment of society as a whole. I learned to prioritize the collective, working diligently, studying ardently, sharing unconditionally, and loving expansively while evolving without the chains of attachment or aversion.

The transformation of knowledge into wisdom became a central focus of my endeavors. This path required immense effort, but I found solace in the realization that many individuals resonated with a similar vibration and were willing to share their insights. In this new era where the collective reigns supreme over the individual, I have honed my professional skills in synergy with my purpose. Through this portal, I strive to bring together all that is good, fostering unity and harmony among like-minded souls.

Forgiveness towards others and oneself emerged as a vital aspect of my journey. I endeavored to free myself from negative emotions, past hurts, guilt, and patterns perpetuating negativity. Though the process demanded diligent work and courageous confrontation, I discovered many transformative tools and pathways to facilitate healing and growth.

I firmly believe that the collective awakening and elevation of consciousness are key to our planet's transformation. As the critical mass of individuals resonating with universal love expands, the pace of this profound metamorphosis quickens. It is my fervent intention to contribute to this positive shift, to rewrite the narrative of our shared reality, and to cultivate a world imbued with compassion, wisdom, and profound interconnectedness. https://psychosick.com/ https://about.me/Ella-ballentine https://www.pinterest.com/Ellaballentine0/

#health and wellness #healthcare #healthy lifestyle #immune system #wellness

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expandyu · 1 year

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Surprise! another special interest

I thought I knew myself and my special interests pretty well. Sure, I spent most of my life unaware of them until after my diagnosis when I realized I have had a life-long (yet evolving) interest in fiction and storytelling. But I had figured that out already. And I was aware of my interest in productivity since that inspired this blog and coaching business. Most other things were mere passing fancies... Or if my therapist is right, hyperfixations.

So I felt pretty confident that "autistic with a special interest in communication" while interesting and very understandable, did not describe me. That is, until I spent the evening of Thanksgiving practically giving a lecture to my uncle about different styles of conversation, and how people can have strong preferences for one or the other, and how that was showing up in our family dynamics. And then on the ride home I broke out laughing at the realization that boy, I was wrong. I definitely have a special interest in communication.

The thing that always trips me up is the stereotypes. Special interests are often represented by all-consuming and encyclopediadic knowledge on a particular subject, or alternatively, an ever growing collection of a particular thing. Or in many cases both. And for many autistics, that is pretty spot on. But my special interests have never looked like that (for a variety of reasons that I will speak with my therapist about).

I definitely do infodump on any unsuspecting person who humors me just a second too long about the current piece of fiction that I'm obsessed with, or my latest theory about why communicating is so damn difficult across neurotypes. Oh, there it is again. It seem so obvious now.

Part of why I never suspected it is because I've never really had much interest in studying it in any "serious" way. But the more I think about it, that probably has more to do with my ambivalence toward higher education and mainstream forms of study. Just like I considered going to graduate school for fiction writing and then decided against it, I've also in many ways rejected any kind of formal education around things that I am passionate about. Probably because it feels unnecessarily restrictive.

But I delight in learning from my peers, from first-hand accounts, especially in the realm of neurodivergence and particularly autism. Because theories cooked up by an autistic person are often incredibly insightful and well-thought out. Because on the topic of existing as an autistic person in a neurotypical world, who better to analyze it than an overly-analytic autistic person who's lived their whole life trying to figure it all out?

So I'm delighted to collect theories and models from other autistic people and slowly put together my own theories and models of how it all fits together. And it's beyond fascinating to apply these models to my everyday life and find that they fit and they shine light on things that made no sense before or that I'd never even thought about.

It makes sense that autism, communication, and productivity are things that I landed on as special interests. These are all things I've struggled to understand but needed to understand so badly. And now I'm just fascinated by what I've found.

It makes sense that I've rejected formal education about them, because the way I like to learn is immersion and application, and models instead of canon.

I was wrong about myself. How fun it is to learn something new about me.

#actually autistic #special interest #communication #autistic communication

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godpilot · 1 year

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Man, if I'm gonna be honest, I

Dropped out of college, found myself a whole new realm of knowledge

Down the forest, foraging for sounds that I can rhyme with orange (woo)

Look, I'm a simple gatherer among a world of hunters

Not about chasing clout

I'd rather gaze at clouds and feel the comfort

Uh-oh, on the trending tab

Hope this won't be ending bad

Checking analytics is like working in a forensic lab

Oh lord, life's getting hard

I'm too young for a credit card

And I crashed the very first time I drove my parents' car

Teardrops, we've made friends between screens

And deep seas, steal hearts while teens scream our ears off

You mightn't believe it, a life full of streaming is real tough

It feels rough sometimes, but that's the real stuff

Day by day, puttin' on a brave face (hey)

Playing games, taking pain straight away (yay)

Maybe made mistakes but it's A-OK (wait)

We all need to take a break

If I'm gonna be honest, I need a little space to breathe

And I'm living and loving my life by the sea

If I'm gonna be honest, I need a little bit of the breeze

And I'm living and loving my life by the sea

I'm just tryna keep my life afloat but never quite coping

I feel the heat beneath my collar whenever I'm joking

Know most people aren't evil though, some really just wanna watch you burn

So you're on edge and sweating, dreading, making wrong turns

Treading on eggshells, laying on a bed of nails

Do-do-don't you take a wrong step or else you'll get impaled (get impaled)

I'm just a happy guy, paddling through the angry tide

Online emotions amplified, I try to let it pass me by (woo)

Can't keep everybody pacified, satisfied appetites

My frazzled and distracted mind is acting like a satellite

So many transmissions, every day I'm twitching

Wishing that things were just an itty bit different

I know I shouldn't complain at the end of the day but it's a British tradition

Day by day, puttin' on a brave face (hey)

Playing games, taking pain straight away (woo)

Maybe made mistakes but it's A-OK (wait)

We all need to take a break (hey)

If I'm gonna be honest, I need a little space to breathe

And I'm living and loving my life by the sea

If I'm gonna be honest, I need a little bit of the breeze

And I'm living and loving my life by the sea

Day by day, puttin' on a brave face

Playing games, taking pain straight away

Maybe made mistakes but it's A-OK

We all need to take a break

So I'll be chilling when the tide is low (woah, oh, oh)

'Cause I wanna take it slow (woah, oh, oh)

And I can't sing the next note

But I brought a bro (oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh-oh)

If I'm gonna be honest, I need a little space to breathe (yeah)

And I'm living and loving my life by the sea

If I'm gonna be honest, I need a little bit of the breeze

And I'm living and loving my life by the sea (woah-ah-ah-ah)

Life by the sea

truly the pete wentz of our generation

#📧

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