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#hope it makes sense?
sosclancy · 3 months
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Allowing Dema to continue its allowing the violence of the status quo to continue. Rebelling and finding your tribe isn't enough anymore, true revolution comes from liberating the whole.
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saurons-pr-department · 3 months
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Hey anon, I have screen-shotted your ask because I am going to try stay out of tag/term searches here, which in an of itself probably answers your question XD
So! Thoughts as they occur to me!
I did give the whole first season a watch. Partly out of giving it a chance, partly out of morbid curiosity, like when you can't look away from something awful happening in front of you even when you really want to close your eyes.
What I think is interesting actually, is that my main issues with the show have somewhat changed since I initially watched it. While watching it my only thoughts were "wrong, wrong, that never happened, wrong, wrong, wrong, look how they massacred my boy (gn), wrong!" And while those thoughts themselves haven't changed my main issues have changed to focus more on how it's such a badly structured story (the timelines feel both stretched and compressed in a way that doesn't add anything to the stories being told) and how I don't think it knows yet what it wants to be (it's Tolkien, but it's its own thing, but it's a 'prequel' in the very modern franchise sense of the word to the PJ films, but it's also not those films).
For the structure, I personally wouldn't have put two major stories into one show. I don't think there's the time for that. Both the Akallabêth and the creation of the rings exist as very sketchy narratives that cover extremely long timeframes. Original content was always going to be needed to fill the gaps. But by putting both tales into the one show, I feel they've doubled the amount of gap filling needed while halving the amount of screentime they have for it because there's now twice the amount of canon to cover (tbf, they don't seem to want canon so maybe that's not an issue for them...). To force them to run simultanously and then add original content that isn't just filling the gaps but appears to be completely original, you end up with a story that is both too empty and too full. Nothing is getting the time it deserves. Big moments feel undeserved or rushed. It takes the wind out of its own sails. (and that's without mentioning that these stories running alongside eachother just throws timelines and motivations out of whack, but I refuse to get us all bogged down in the minutiae of my grumblings!)
It's a pity, the story of the fall of Númenor and the creation of the rings have such good parallels, but that would require them to focus on things like religion and politics etc and they seem to be more interested in mystery boxes, so... oh well?
In regards the show's identity crisis, to be fair to them, that's really not that unusual in first seasons. They're not special XD Let's face it, how often have we all been recommended something that came with the caveat 'you need to get through the first few episodes/first season before it gets good and finds its feet'? Especially fantasy and sci-fi that has to establish facts about the world as well as characters in a way a drama set in the real world doesn't. I wouldn't be shocked to learn that the show hits its stride a bit better in later seasons.
However, my current biggest gripe with the show is what I'm seeing in the writers' attitude to storytelling. I can't stand it. The actor for a certain someone whose name begins with H didn't know who his character really was until after shooting the first few episodes. There's the back and forth of is it H or the guy who fell from the sky who'll turn out to be the villain. Sky man even gets some stalkers whose only purpose was to add confusion to this situation and then be immediately killed, no further context. One of the writers (I don't remember who) when asked about deviations from canon said something to the effect of 'we don't want book fans to be episodes ahead'. It's the modern Marvel school of story-telling. It's mystery boxes and twists and fears of spoilers and people knowing what's coming next. That's not how you tell a story. You need more substance than that. Big moments are only interesting if you've earned them with a well crafted lead up. And what's the point of a big moment if it adds nothing to the story in the first place. They had one of fantasy's most iconic villains, why was there a secret? The Second Age is where he's cracking out his most rediculous long cons. The man's twirling his mustache while kicking up his feet and writing 'evil' into every date in his diary for at least a millenium, what does a secret identity add to this story really?
Don't worry, I will move swiftly on from the topic of my boy who is not really my boy before we get in too deep... No one needs to hear that... But do you get my point? Big reveal. No substance.
To add a note of positivity, I actually really like Sky man's music. It's genuinely a really nice piece of music. I also liked that they wanted to add one of the 'original' orcs, that's a cool concept!
Oh! And whoever okayed those American 'stage-Irish' accents needs to be fired into the sun :D
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mordoriscalling · 2 years
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If I were to describe TAD music in one word
it would be “loving”.
I remember the day ruin came out and I listened to it. I shivered, laughed and cried, often at the same time. After my third listen, something finally clicked.
Maybe some of you can relate to how there’s that dark, dark place so deep inside you. The deepest place of you, which is pitch-black, cold, hopeless, and out of your reach.
After ruin, that was no more. The earth of me was dry and dead but then the rain came, and sunlight after that, and at last I began to bloom.
Ruin made me feel so loved. It was in Madeleine’s power n The Calling, in Joey’s theatre of The Old Witch Sleep and The Good Man Grace, and in every other song, really, in various ways.
It made me think that TAD songs in general are just so loving - no matter what they do, what kind of story they tell, you can sense it in between the lines and notes that their intent is healing.
What a band. Their music knows you like you sometimes fear to be known and yet it’s only understanding about it. Healing, after all, is many things: sometimes it’s raging, sometimes it’s leaving, sometimes it’s patience and kindness. As you go through it in their songs, not once do you feel bad about being broken; you learn to embrace all of it, you learn to love life just as it truly is.
Here’s to TAD and ruin, dear hearts! A year ago, I finally began to fall in love with life. On my hardest days, my reason to hold on is imagining all of us sing Inkpot Gods together at a TAD concert back to Joey, Madeleine, and the rest of the band. It doesn’t matter that it may never happen; what gets me through is that we all want to live it, never as alone or misunderstood as it sometimes seems.
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stil-lindigo · 4 months
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frankly, the people whose kneejerk reaction to bisan asking for a global strike form the 21st-28th is to say that it takes years to organize a general strike are really unhelpful! no one is saying otherwise, but palestine will be a smoking crater if we all wait for years to do anything - bisan is asking us to do something now. Like are we only supposed to do something if we can do it perfectly??? At some point it’s a valid critique about the work that goes into social movement, and at another point I feel like some people are just trying to absolve themselves from not putting any effort into observing a week of economic inaction.
like idk! I get it, okay! People have bills to pay that don’t magically go away for a strike, we don’t have nearly enough social infrastructure in place to support people to fully stop going to work for a week. But fuck, dude! Stop immediately responding in such a defeatist way! Cut out unnecessary purchases! Try to shop local! Put more effort into promoting Palestinian voices online! Attend a protest, call a local rep, do something!
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spibder · 5 months
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made some lil sticker designs of fnaf movie human/animatronic duos :3c they r on my redbubble if u wanna stick em anywhere lols
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its-tortle · 3 months
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— taylor swift albums as months of the year —
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neon-ghost04 · 3 months
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“Husk didn’t fall for Angel Dust he fell for Anthony”
NO YOU DONT UNDERSTAND HUSK FELL FOR ANGEL DUST AND ANTHONY; THE PORNSTAR, THE CRACKHEAD, THE GUY STAYING AT A HOTEL FOR REDEMPTION, THE GUY WHO LOVES HIS PET PIG, THE GUY WHOS GOOD WITH A GUN, THE LOSER, THE GUY WHO CARES ABOUT HIS FRIENDS, THE GUY WHO LET HIS WALLS DOWN
He fell for all that Angel Dust is, and he fucking fell hard
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redstonedust · 2 months
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here's a random thought:
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soybean-official · 8 months
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To me it's like this
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Something I really love about tumblr is that when I say in real life that "yeah I'm writing" or "actually, I wanted to write tonight" or "- in the thing I'm writing, I---", this is somehow a wild piece of information about me as a human being. Which, not to diss on people for showing genuine human interest but I keep forgetting that not everyone has a project. People irl will be like "Oh you are writing? Wow what are you writing about! What are you planning to do with it! Can I read it?"
Now, here on tumblr, it feels like everyone has a "writing" or at least it is normalised enough not to warrant a question. Yes, your writing, I get it. The "wip". The elusive "project" you are working on. Of course you're writing. That's just behaviour. We all do our daily little writing if we are not procrastinating our daily little writing and complain about our procrastinating, Doesn't require elaboration. You can easily never bring up your writing again after first mentioning that you are "writing" because no one is dumb-founded by learning this fact about you - or you can skip the basic "yes, I'm writing, no it's for fun, yes it is a story, yes fiction, yes I enjoy writing' - and delve head-first into the entire psychological depth and tell me all about your symbolism etc.
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skyberia · 1 year
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on the agency of puppets
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teddylou · 2 months
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so. roommate’s cat likes being on top of the fridge. and usually he goes floor>counter>fridge, but sometimes he will attempt the floor>fridge shortcut. but he misses and this happens
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there’s a cork board that somehow supports his weight until one of us scoops him (or he falls)
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somnimagus · 6 months
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My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.
[id in alt text]
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"The Remnant Collector"
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"the remnant what"
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"the"
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poopystain · 21 days
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uhhhhmm
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inkskinned · 1 year
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for a while i lived in an old house; the kind u.s americans don't often get to live in - living in a really old house here is super expensive. i found out right before i moved out that the house was actually so old that it features in a poem by emily dickinson.
i liked that there were footprints in front of the sink, worn into the hardwood. there were handprints on some of the handrails. we'd find secret marks from other tenants, little hints someone else had lived and died there. and yeah, there was a lot wrong with the house. there are a lot of DIY skills you learn when you are a grad student that cannot afford to pay someone else to do-it-for-ya. i shared the house with 8 others. the house always had this noise to it. sometimes that noise was really fucking awful.
in the mornings though, the sun would slant in thick amber skiens through the windows, and i'd be the first one up. i'd shuffle around, get showered in this tub that was trying to exit through the floor, get my clothes on. i would usually creep around in the kitchen until it was time to start waking everyone else up - some of them required multiple rounds of polite hey man we gotta go knocks. and it felt... outside of time. a loud kind of quiet.
the ghosts of the house always felt like they were humming in a melody just out of reach. i know people say that the witching hour happens in the dark, but i always felt like it occurred somewhere around 6:45 in the morning. like - for literal centuries, somebody stood here and did the dishes. for literal centuries, somebody else has been looking out the window to this tree in our garden. for literal centuries, people have been stubbing their toes and cracking their backs and complaining about the weather. something about that was so... strangely lovely.
i have to be honest. i'm not a history aficionado. i know, i know; it's tragic of me. i usually respond to "this thing is super old" by being like, wow! cool! and moving on. but this house was the first time i felt like the past was standing there. like it was breathing. like someone else was drying their hands with me. playing chess on the sofa. adding honey to their tea.
i grew up in an old town. like, literally, a few miles off of walden pond (as in of the walden). (also, relatedly, don't swim in walden, it's so unbelievably dirty). but my family didn't have "old house" kind of money. we had a barely-standing house from the 70's. history existed kind of... parallel to me. you had to go somewhere to be in history. your school would pack you up on a bus and take you to some "ye olden times" place and you'd see how they used to make glass or whatever, and then you'd go home to your LEDs. most museums were small and closed before 5. you knew history was, like, somewhere, but the only thing that was open was the mcdonalds and the mall.
i remember one of my seventh grade history teachers telling us - some day you'll see how long we've been human for and that thing has been puzzling me. i know the scientific number, technically.
the house had these little scars of use. my floors didn't actually touch the walls; i had to fill them with a stopgap to stop the wind. other people had shoved rags and pieces of newspaper. i know i've lost rings and earring backs down some of the floorboards. i think the raccoons that lived in our basement probably have collected a small fortune over the years. i complain out loud to myself about how awful the stairs are (uneven, steep, evil, turning, hard to get down while holding anything) and know - someone else has said this exact same thing.
when i was packing up to leave and doing a final deep cleaning, i found a note carved in the furthest corner in the narrow cave of my closet. a child's scrawled name, a faded paint handprint, the scrangly numbers: 1857.
we've been human for a long time. way back before we can remember.
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