sapphire-reblogs-and-rambles
Sapphire
she/her ~ mostly reposting and ramblings about Greek myth and aspec stuff @sapphireluminescence
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terrible years really make you understand the point of a new year. i know nothing much will have changed between dec 31 and jan 1, but we need to be able to partition off everything that’s happened to us, we need a moment to say, ‘that’s done, we’re done with it, it’s over’ and have a little hope that the future will be different. we need to be able to stop and take a breath and sing, in the middle of winter, and prepare ourselves for spring.
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lorde really wrote an album about being the kid that stayed home when people went out and had to keep a reputation of being nice and modest and polite but secretly wanting to go crazy and dance wildly and go running and bounding and sobbing but feeling as though your whole life hinges on other people giving you the opportunity to do it and so you feel as though you’re wasting your youth
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I just love the idea of Kaz as a sailor's wife. Kaz watching anxiously with his spyglass for Inej's ship on the horizon. Inej comes back to him always, and Kaz is always waiting on the docks. Sometimes he goes with her, but mostly he stays back. I want Kaz's grief at seeing her off to not lessen after, 10, 20, 30 years but I also want his unbridled joy at welcoming her home to be unparalleled. I like the mental image of a time lapse. Of seeing 18 year old Kaz on the docks as Inej runs down the gangway, then a 28 year old Kaz, then Kaz shouldering an infant, then an infant and a little girl, then Kaz holding a little boy's hand as Inej and her older child run down the gangway together. The leaving and returning into his arms as everything else changes around them. I love it. I find it so romantic.
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i know an engineer-type dude who said fiction bored him, because fiction is mostly-formulaic and tropey, and you can generally guess what’s gonna happen next, and yada yada
so his solution for this problem was… to solely read serial web novels in languages that (1) he did not speak, and (2) for which there was no actual translation, fan or otherwise
apparently, the combined forces of “trying to figure out WTF is going on via the power of Google Translate" + “cultural differences in storytelling conventions” + “the inherent randomness of where the hell amateur authors are gonna take their plots”—those all mashed up to make stories that were unpredictable enough to keep him guessing all the time
then he described to me this totally batshit-sounding Hungarian story he’d been obsessively reading once a week for years
and god i think about him all the time. like. that is the most wild way to process fiction that i have ever heard of, but also, i’ve gotta admire the sheer chaos energy of it
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angel trueforms but they look like these chandeliers
inspired by this post
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recommend me an underrated audio drama please please please please please
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Just read about the study that looked into the connection between the sound resonance of human-marked caves and the location of cave paintings. They discovered that the cave paintings were most commonly located in the areas with the clearest resonance, the best acoustics. The ideal places to sing. Scientist are bound by a duty to commit to facts, to stick with what is known and can be known. They aren't allowed to just wildly speculate, jump to conclusions, or romanticise the connections they make. But I am not a man of science and I can say whatever I want.
We called them "cavemen" at first, when we knew even less of them than what we do now. They were hunter-gatherers, nomadic people who wouldn't have stayed in one place for long, not even a place as good as a cave. A cave is a maw full of blackness, cold and dark, unless you bring fire. They brought fire with them, that we know. They painted the walls in light of torches, beasts that appear to move in the flickering light. They painted the walls in places where one could best sing.
A cave is a place of darkness, unless you bring fire. And quiet - perhaps save for the bats - unless you bring your voice. What did they sing about? The same songs every year, that one sings that time of year When We Return To The Cave, or new ones made up on the spot? Were they sacred? They must have been. One does not go into an unfamiliar cave alone, there are too many ways you may die. You go together, someone shows it to you. Brings you to the paintings to sing. To sing in the dark underworld that looks nothing like the world above, and where even the weakest voices carry, amplifying like nowhere else in the world that they knew.
Is that what we still yearn for? To go with your kin to the hollow halls of sacred places, where the echo compels you to reverent silence, until it's time to sing? To hear the familiar tune, amplified by the echos of stone, urged to join the song just as wolves are called to join the howl? Our urge just as natural as theirs, like migrating birds yearn to leave and return?
Why else do we have churches, but for our yearning to sing in the caves?
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A woman came into my work a little while ago loudly complaining about her (perfectly well-behaved) son, saying how he was ten years old and didn't know how to listen, and I nodded along like "yeah I totally remember being that age", and she looks at me and goes, "no, seriously, he's Autistic," and I spread my arms and go, "Hey, same! Twinsies!"
And this woman's eyes. My God, it was beautiful. She goes, "Really? And they let you WORK here?"
And then she turns back to her kid to nag at him and over her shoulder little dude and and I make what I can only describe as the purest form of eye contact I have ever experienced in my life
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Hey have you all heard about the scrolls. Have you heard about the scrolls.
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@illfollowyouintothedark
built different (has chronic pain)
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why do pictures of the insides of string instruments look like a "rustic feel" (infected w/ mold and about to collapse) L.A. studio apartment that costs like 40k a month? like
(acoustic guitar)
(double bass)
(violin)
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I got to hold a 500,000 year old hand axe at the museum today.
It's right-handed
I am right-handed
There are grooves for the thumb and knuckle to grip that fit my hand perfectly
I have calluses there from holding my stylus and pencils and the gardening tools.
There are sharper and blunter parts of the edge, for different types of cutting, as well as a point for piercing.
I know exactly how to use this to butcher a carcass.
A homo erectus made it
Some ancestor of mine, three species ago, made a tool that fits my hand perfectly, and that I still know how to use.
Who were you
A man? A woman? Did you even use those words?
Did you craft alone or were you with friends? Did you sing while you worked?
Did you find this stone yourself, or did you trade for it? Was it a gift?
Did you make it for yourself, or someone else, or does the distinction of personal property not really apply here?
Who were you?
What would you think today, seeing your descendant hold your tool and sob because it fits her hands as well?
What about your other descendant, the docent and caretaker of your tool, holding her hands under it the way you hold your hands under your baby's head when a stranger holds them.
Is it bizarre to you, that your most utilitarian object is now revered as holy?
Or has it always been divine?
Or is the divine in how I am watching videos on how to knap stone made by your other descendants, learning by example the way you did?
Tomorrow morning I am going to the local riverbed in search of the appropriate stones, and I will follow your example.
The first blood spilled on it will almost certainly be my own, as I learn the textures and rhythm of how it's done.
Did you have cuss words back then? Gods to blaspheme when the rock slips and you almost take your thumbnail off instead? Or did you just scream?
I'm not religious.
But if spilling my own blood to connect with a stranger who shared it isn't partaking in the divine
I don't know what is.
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I'm turning 30 this month, and for some reason have become suddenly interested in material possessions. like what if,,,,,,,,my couch was nice. what if my sheets were nice. is this what happens to you??
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”Men think about the Roman Empire” “What’s the female version of the Roman Empire” SHUT UPPPPP. SHUT THE FUCK UPPPPPP. AS A WOMAN I LOVE THE ROMAN EMPIRE. AS A WOMAN I LOVE ANCIENT HISTORY AND BATTLES AND POLITICAL INSTABILITY. THE “GIRL VERSION OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE” IS THE ROMAN EMPIRE. IM GOING TO STAB YOU 23 TIMES
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"I would kill for you. I would die for you" would you take a break for me? Would you sit down and rest? For a day, a week, a year? Would you let others take care of your needs for me? Would you let yourself be held for me? By me?
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Me for the last 15 years: Starting a timer when you have to wait for something or stand in line can be helpful, because no matter how impatient you feel you can check the timer and remind yourself it has not been several eternities and has in fact only been five minutes.
Me setting a timer when I got to bag claim just now: I'm so clever! I will now be reminded that it's only been five minutes and bag claim usually takes about twenty!
Me looking at the timer thoughtfully: ...another Very Neurotypical Moment With Sam, it appears.
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A basic checklist for your one-page or pamphlet-size indie RPG which involves rolling dice:
Does the text at any point indicate how many sides the dice you're rolling should have?
That's literally 100% it. You would not believe how many short-form games I've run into that don't specify that.
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