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foone · 1 year

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Look if there's one thing, just one thing, that I wish everyone understood about archiving, it's this:

We can always decide later that we don't need something we archived.

Like, if we archive a website that's full of THE WORST STUFF, like it turns out it's borderline illegal bot-made spam art, we can delete it. Gone.

We can also chose not to curate. You can make a list of the 100 Best Fanfic and just quietly not link to or mention the 20,000 RPFs of bigoted youtubers eating each other. No problem!

We can also make things not publicly available. This happens surprisingly often: like, sometimes there'll be a YouTube channel of alt-right bigotry that gets taken down by YouTube, but someone gives a copy to the internet archive, and they don't make it publicly available. Because it might be useful for researchers, and eventually historians, it's kept. But putting it online for everyone to see? That's just be propaganda for their bigotry. So it's hidden, for now. You can ask to see it, but you need a reason.

And we can say all these things, we can chose to delete it later, we can not curate it, we can hide it from public view... But we only have these options BECAUSE we archived it.

If we didn't archive it, we have no options. It is gone. I'm focusing on the negative here, but think about the positive side:

What if it turns out something we thought was junk turns out to be amazing new art?

What if something we thought of as pointless and not worth curating turns out to be influential?

What if something turns out to be of vital historical importance, the key that is used to solve a great mystery, the Rosetta stone for an era?

All of those things are great... If we archived it when we could.

Because this is an asymmetric problem:

If we archived it and it turns out it's not useful, we can delete.

If we didn't archive it and it turns out it is useful, OOPS!

You can't unlose something that's been lost. It's gone. This is a one way trip, it's already fallen off the cliff. Your only hope is that you're wrong about it being lost, and there is actually still a copy somewhere. If it's truly lost, your only option is to build a time machine.

And this has happened! There are things lost, so many of them that we know of, and many more we don't know of. There are BOOKS OF THE BIBLE referenced in the canon that simply do not exist anymore. Like, Paul says to go read his letter to the Laodiceans, and what did that letter say? We don't know. It's gone.

The most celebrated playwright in the English tradition has plays that are just gone. You want to perform or watch Love's Labours Won? TOO FUCKING BAD.

Want to watch Lon Cheyney's London After Midnight, a mystery-horror silent film from 1927? TOO BAD. The MGM vault burnt down in 1965 and the last known copy went up in smoke.

If something still exists, if it still is kept somewhere, there is always an opportunity to decide if it's worthy of being remembered. It can still be recognized for its merits, for its impact, for its importance, or just what it says about the time and culture and people who made it, and what they believed and thought and did. It can still be a useful part of history, even if we decide it's a horrible thing, a bigoted mess, a terrible piece of art. We have the opportunity to do all that.

If it's lost... We are out of options. All we can do is research it from how it affected other things. There's a lot of great books and plays and films and shows that we only know of because other contemporary sources talked about them so much. We're trying to figure out what it was and what it did, from tracing the shadow it cast on the rest of culture.

This is why archivists get anxious whenever people say "this thing is bad and should not be preserved". Because, yeah, maybe they're right. Maybe we'll look back and decide "yeah, that is worthless and we shouldn't waste the hard drive or warehouse space on it".

But if they're wrong, and we listen to them, and don't archive... We don't get a second chance at this. And archivists have been bitten too many times by talk of "we don't need copies, the original studio has the masters!" (it burnt down), or "this isn't worth preserving, it's just some damn silly fad" (the fad turned out to be the first steps of a cultural revolution), or "this media is degenerate/illegal/immoral" (it turns out those saying that were bigots and history doesn't agree with their assessment).

So we archive what we can. We can always decide later if it doesn't need preserving. And being a responsible archivist often means preserving things but not making them publicly available, or being selective in what you archive (I back up a lot of old computer hard drives. Often they have personal photos and emails and banking information! That doesn't get saved).

But it's not really a good idea to be making quality or moral judgements of what you archive. Because maybe you're right, maybe a decade or two later you'll decide this didn't need to be saved. And you'll have the freedom to make that choice. But if you didn't archive it, and decide a decade later you were wrong... It's just gone now. You failed.

Because at the end of the day I'd rather look at an archive and see it includes 10,000 things I think are worthless trash, than look at an archive of on the "best things" and know that there are some things that simply cannot be included. Maybe they were better, but can't be considered as one of the best... Because they're just gone. No one has read them, no one has been able to read them.

We have a long history of losing things. The least we can do going forward is to try and avoid losing more. And leave it up to history to decide if what we saved was worth it.

My dream is for a future where critics can look at stuff made in the present and go "all of this was shit. Useless, badly made, bigoted, horrible. Don't waste your time on it!"

Because that's infinitely better than the future where all they can do is go "we don't know of this was any good... It was probably important? We just don't know. It's gone. And it's never coming back"

#Archivist ranting

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astralnymphh · 9 months

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patterned palmistry ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x witch!reader headcanons/scenarios ༻ ☽𖤐☾

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

an: being the witchy little gremlin i am i just had to throw some hcs together for myself but ofc i'd share them here🙄ive been practicing witchcraft since i was 15 so it felt fitting to incorporate it whenever i brace my delusions at the bootycrack of midnight that r all abt ellie 💀 regardless this def isnt gonna be my only witchy hcs post i just didnt wanna spoil all my ideas right away <3 tags: MDNI, slight nsfw (no detailed smut), boob jokes, witchcraft (obv), tarot, palm reading, mostly convos, flirting, not mentioned in the writing but u 2 r alrdy dating, playful bickering, more natural casual writing with some bigger words, no specific religion tied to the practice, generally a fluff piece, lowk cute moments. °________________________⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆__________________________°

I. ☆ ellie definitely had a peak in curiosity the first time you mentioned you immerse yourself in the world of the craft, her ears perked figuratively and were tuned in to learn what that entails. she may not forfeit a nip of skepticism right away but she's more than happy to engross herself in the idea of it. you'd stay up till first light rambling on about the 'rituals', 'divination', the history tied to it and why you practice it. you'd be lying in bed adjacent to her, heavenward to the ceiling, but interwoven in a warm and loving cuddle with her palm residing on your lap whilst you chatted.

"mmmmh-" ellie's hum churns 'round your bedroom, "so that's why you collect rocks."

"crystals."

"same thing," she drones an inwardly giggle, "which crystal will give me superpowers?" a witty remark springs from her tongue.

"babe.." you pout, acting offended yet none is taken.

"didn't mean it like that, y'know I believe you, it's all just new to me." ellie tapes an assuring kiss to your temple, "tell me about your favorite crystals, hmm?"

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

II. ☆ now because of this, anytime you're out on patrol and delight the opportunity of scavenging, she always keeps in mind to find you flowers, rocks, unused candles and other oddities of nature.

"hey babe! I found a black candle for'ya." ellie bolstered a long glass cylinder filled with an opaque charcoal wax, wick still intact, "and- ..some wild lavender." her other arm swings from behind her back, twines of dusty purple lavender upheld in a pinch.

"fuck yeah, needed this stuff.." you graciously tweak the lavender from her, whiffing up its poignant scent.

"always on the lookout.." her voice resembles her proud countenance outwards, essentially, a dorky smirk.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

III. ☆ obviously, the second you mentioned the art of tarot to her, she begged for a reading. whenever a card flew from your shuffling motions, she'd patiently wait for you to place it before her and then she'd swipe it up and admire the art piece detailing the cardstock.

"whew! look at the boobs on this one!"

"oh- my god, of course you'd point that out." you snatch the card from her, shamelessly ogling the nude depiction that had her attention.

"you're looking at them too!"

"cuz' you said something 'bout it!" you flick the card towards her face, noting, "those are some nice boobs though."

"why thank you~"

"wasn't talking about you, idiot!"

"eh, but.. urs' are the best." her hoarse tone binds a nonchalant flirtiness in its rumble.

"oh really? should we compare the.. four?"

that really stole her attention.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

IV. ☆ the first time you entertained her with a palm reading, it had her all dappy and touched to the essence at the paltry contact you made with her hand. your fingerprints drafting her calloused palms with such a gentle focus on every river lining her hand. she just wanted to smother you with kisses.

"and… this is your heart line." your finger hovers the crevice of her palm-pads stretching from index to pinkie, "ah.. it's a broken one.."

"is that.. bad?" her juniper eyes study your expression meticulously.

"it just means u're closed off, stubborn, have some emotional trauma.. stuff like that." you mindlessly fiddle with her fingers, "lines can change though, so.."

she nods, taking in the insight. she licks her slightly chapped lips clean, "am I stubborn?" her voice rises partially an octave, bending playfulness in her question.

"mm.. no."

"why'd you hesitate?"

"well- the only times ur' stubborn is refusing to let go whenever you hug me- ur' a life-size sloth!"

"I like huggin' you though." a puppy pout frowns on her lips, "you're like a pillow!"

and oh, how your heart capers a beat, "is that all I am, williams?"

her swift speech conjuncts, "whaddid' I say about that name?!"

"I don't know, I think you like it."

"nuh-uh I don't!"

you pepper a haste kiss to her knuckles still forcepped in your clasp, totally deterring the crime you've just committed when a half impish half taken aback smile creaks her lips.

"c'mere." vaults from her tongue before she lunges her body forward and tackles you in a saucy position riddled with love bites. guess you'll be reading her palms in a different way tonight.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ V. ☆ an bonus hc, you'd totally mention out of the void about her tattoo n the mystic meanings surrounding moths, like, its for sure one of the topics you'll ramble about one night cause you just feel so wise for knowing. "y'know, moths play a pretty large role in the metaphysical world." "really? i mean, i knew they had some kind of.. 'symbolism' to them-" ellie's hand rolls over the knoll of her forearm, reading the bumps glamoured in that beautiful inking. "yeah, like- luna moths represent transformation, renewal.. oh! and death-head moths are an omen of death.. an- and black witch moths mean either good luck, or bad-" ellie is amused at your prattle shown by her raspy giggles, legitimately having to conceal her scrunched face. "what?" "nothin' you- you're just so cute." "stop.." the embarrassment catches up to you, now having to hide your face to the shadows beneath your hands. her finger cranes out to hook and uncover your nerdy grin, assuring, "never stop tellin' me bout this stuff, ok babe?" a wide delighted beam syncs on her cheeks. goddess above, her dimples and nasal lines are to die for. ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𖤐

in general; she's a curious dork n will ask you oh so many questions, i mean, she loves space and a futuristic sci-fi comic for crying out loud, she's alrdy so imaginative so ofc she'd be open to a realistic amount. she'd also be so respectful and helpful n defend ur practice with so much love. maybe she'd pick up some little traditions and customs like folding letters a specific amount of times, drawing little pentacles, mixing liquid in specific directions, just the simple things that grow on her.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams headcanons #ellie smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x witch #ellie headcanons #tlou headcanons

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max1461 · 1 year

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only tangentially related but sometimes I wonder if survivorship bias makes us view modern art as less than older art, that time and cultural memory acts as a natural bullshit filter, that actually people were just as vapid and pretentious back then, but none of the vapid and pretentious work had enough cultural value stick around to be examined now

I think it's partly this, but it's partly something else.

This is probably gonna piss a lot of people off, but I think in a particular sense, contemporary art is just... straightforwardly more advanced than older art. I know, I know, but hear me out: I don't mean that as a value judgement. What I mean is like...

Ok, take math as an example. Math started out talking about things that everybody's heard of: triangles, circles, whole numbers. But as those concepts were better understood, they got abstracted more and more. Symmetries of shapes where abstracted to symmetry groups, numbers abstracted to rings and fields, eventually it was all abstracted to category theory, and so on. And now if you look at major research topics in modern math, things like e.g. the Langlands program, as a non-expert, it often looks like a bunch of fucking nonsense about bullshit objects that don't have anything to do with the real world! But even though I don't understand the Langlands program itself, I know enough math to understand why all the levels of abstraction that I have understood are meaningful and valuable, and I can see why going even further would be too. And math is useful enough that the results often speak for themselves.

So I think contemporary art is much like this. If you read contemporary art theory, you will immediately see that it is all very meta. Art used to be made about very concrete things—people and nice looking vistas and so on—that anyone could understand. And then theorists came along and built up frameworks for thinking about art, because they wanted to understand why that art worked, why it was powerful and emotive. And then new, avant-garde artist came along and made art about the frameworks, pushing at their edge-cases or exploring their unintuitive implications. And then new frameworks were built up to understand that art, rinse and repeat. This account is, as I understand it, a little bit ahistorical—the building and the pushing of frameworks was often simultaneous and often not clearly articulated. Although, frankly, the same could be said for the history of math. But in retrospect I think a pretty undeniable picture emerges.

So, to put it bluntly, I think one of the reasons so much contemporary art looks vapid is that it isn't for you. It's about things you've never heard of, in the same way that category theory is about spaces and morphisms, and explaining that to someone who's never heard of groups or topological spaces is basically impossible. And I think there are some differences—art is obviously, you know, totally vibes based in a way that math isn't. If a big wire sculpture with styrofoam cups on it or whatever doesn't speak to you then it doesn't speak to you, no one can defend it on "objective" grounds. And art isn't useful in the way that math is, so it doesn't demonstrate its validity to people who don't get it in any way. But what I wish people understood is that there are people, who know a bunch of art theory and art history, who that wire sculpture with styrofoam cups on it does speak to. It makes them go "oh, I love how it plays off of X and contrasts with Y" etc. etc. And that isn't going to happen for you because, like, you don't know what X or Y even are! But that doesn't make it valueless, it just makes it insular. Which, you know, contemporary art really is! I think there are a lot of contemporary artists who claim to not be doing what I just described, who claim to be making art "for everybody", but I think if you read their artist statements and stuff it often becomes pretty clear that this is not the case. And this is a valid criticism of contemporary art! But "vapid" is mostly not.

Pretentious, definitely. It's pretentious as fuck.

#anon #navel gazing

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majorbaby · 4 months

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it takes a conscious effort to break your patterns of consumption and unlearn the notion beauty, interiority, diverse ways of existence aren't exclusive to whiteness or maleness. part of that isn't your fault. certain music is played on the radio, certain shows survive cancellation no matter what, certain people seem to be able to commit the worst possible acts against other human beings and are excused on account of their creative genius. others are selectively punished, with good reason sure, but still, selectively.

now more than ever it's easier to immerse yourself in art made by people outside of the mainstream. reading lists, free resources, playlists... all this stuff is more accessible than ever, but you've got to make an effort to give it a try. it's black history month, the recs are pouring in, go have a look. or take a chance on something absolutely no one has recommended anywhere and if you find something you like, rec it to someone else because the likelihood is they haven't heard of it.

tracy chapman's "fast car" is one of eleven songs that appears on her self-titled debut album. can you name the second hit single from it? if you're american and you fell anywhere left of center as of the 2016 election, it should be on the tip of your tongue if you were engaged in your country's politics at the time, regardless of your level of actual investment in the system. if not, the next time you're doing a task you need both hands with, washing the dishes, having dinner, doing your makeup, put that album on.

there's a post with over 100K notes on here that i see all the time of bruce springsteen and clarence clemons kissing. there's a part of that that is immediately meaningful to many if you're lgbtq, and a part that is harder for non-black lgbtq people to feel the weight of. but it is worth trying to do and was part of the reason why they kissed so often in the first place. clarence clemons was from norfolk, virginia. he released multiple albums outside of his work with the e street band. they may not be for you, but give them a try.

give enough music, or movies, or books that aren't a part of the approved canon a try, and there's no way you won't find something you don't feel as passionate about as you do about springsteen, siken, the beatles, what have you.

james baldwin was a prolific artist. see if you can't find something of his you like more than giovanni's room.

immerse yourself in ringo sheena, who mitski cites as one of her influences.

if you have difficulty paying attention to music you don't recognize, (i get it) make a playlist that alternates tracks you know and love with brand new tracks. start small. 5 faves of all time, 5 you're going to try out. you won't like everything, but you might find yourself looking forward to 6 songs instead of 5 eventually.

for movies, pick an actor whose performance you loved in something and explore their work. last year i picked whoopi goldberg, also a prolific artist, with a vast body of work that's pretty accessible as a result of her constant, intentional effort.

if you're an artist yourself, you can only stand to improve by getting to know your fellow artists better. so expand your notion of what art is. you can do it for free in lots of cases, and you're spending that time listening to music or reading or watching movies or series anyway, what have you got to lose?

anti-racism sometimes means engaging in real-world narratives of pain endured by brown and black people. that pain permeates much of our art, but we're just as three-dimensional as everybody else, and every aspect of our experiences come through in our work. you know that already, because what else is happening when you indulge in various genres. for everything you love or enjoy, there's a brown or black person who's doing something along those lines, in many cases, those genres wouldn't exist in their current form without the influence of our communities, some more than others, depending on where you're from. you can actually keep one foot inside your comfort zone and dip your toe into something else. that choice is both a joy and a luxury.

#im saying this with generosity #the best time to start was ten years ago the next best time is today #hope i don't regret this. lol.

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beauty-and-passion · 5 months

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Lore Olympus: a golden mine of bad writing

As I said, one post wasn’t enough.

There is still a lot to say about this webcomic and in this post I would like to talk about how Zeus, Apollo and Kronos have been treated. Here I will focus on the first two acts only, because the third act is not over, as well as the story. And yes, that means I will write another post when this whole thing is over.

I wanted to focus on these three gods in particular because are treated in a way that baffles me and makes me question what did they ever do to Mrs. Smythe. Tell me, Rachel: was it something personal? Did they do something to your family? What happened?

But maybe you don’t understand my point, especially if you haven’t read the Greek myths at all and you think that these three are just “Unfaithful Guy”, “Rapist” and “Evil Villain Har Har Who Also Wants To Rape”. Seriously, what’s with this weird obsession with raping everyone and with sex? Did Mrs. Smythe ever see anything else in myths, besides sex?

So please, allow me to explain why their characterizations are wrong and boring - and no, not just from a mythological point of view.

_______________________________

Zeus: the walking clichè

Making Zeus an asshole is understandable, even if utterly boring and clichè. Oh wow, he's an unfaithful husband and he's vain. Very original. Groundbreaking, I'd say. I’ve never read about him being unfaithful to his wife, not even once in all the 200 million retellings made during the history of mankind.

It's a shame because Zeus is much more than that. He's a mighty ruler with a strong sense of justice: in several myths, he punished the assholes for their wrongdoings. He's very clever and strong. He's also associated with xenia, the custom of offering protection to strangers, which means Zeus is also a protector of foreigners.

I mean, this information alone offers so many new perspectives about him! Just imagine if, instead of hanging around and doing nothing useful aside from being everyone’s favorite punching bag, Zeus fought against every corrupt system of the mortal realm, in order to protect the foreigners and the innocents. It would’ve been so cool to see a different side of him, instead of the same thing over and over again!

But nope, Zeus = unfaithful husband only. Let’s ignore all the other aspects of him, to focus on the one everyone focuses on. Let’s make him the umpteenth version of the same guy, instead of offering a new vision. This will surely make the story worth everyone’s time!

Rachel, this could’ve worked if I was 12 and had never read a retelling in my entire life. But since I’m more than twice that age, seeing Zeus as an unfaithful husband again doesn’t get my interest. And I’m sure this doesn’t only apply to me, but to everyone who already saw at least two retellings of him. Isn’t this story supposed to be new and original? Then why are we still picking from the same old clichè visions of these gods? Where is the writer’s personality and ability?

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Apollo: king of wasted potentials

I am absolutely, completely, 100% baffled at how Apollo has been treated in this story.

It's insulting to see the most beloved Greek god treated as a bidimensional piece of shit. Not only because he doesn't make any sense in the story (why is he here in the first place? Did Persephone and Apollo even interact in any myth?), but also because there are so many different possibilities for him, that seeing him being this is the biggest waste of potential I’ve ever seen.

A brief recap of who Apollo really is: Apollo is the embodiment of the sun. He is the god of arts and crafts. He's the most beautiful god, he embodies the concept of perfect Greek beauty. And he is associated with a lot of cool stuff, like medicine, truth and oracles. Also, like most of the other Greek gods, Apollo had many male and female lovers.

Now, look me in the eye and tell me that, with all of this, your first idea about him is "yeah, let's make him a stupid rapist, so stupid to not realize that hey, maybe forcing a girl to sleep with you will not make her fall in love with you". Oh and let's not forget he randomly decided he wanted Zeus' throne just after the fertility plot point had been introduced Because Yes. And he’s running for president of Whatever-Land Because Yes. Also, he’s currently involved again in another evil plot Because… yeah, you got it.

It’s just so frustrating to see him being the biggest loser of all time, considering how much cooler he could’ve been. Just think about it: we could've had a bisexual musician, who does concerts with his band (the Muses) and has a shit ton of lovers. We could’ve had a heartbroken doctor, who does his best to save everyone because he has not been able to save his own son from death (Asclepius). We could've had a mysterious advisor who can see the future because of his foresight powers.

What did we get instead? A fucking rapist.

Apollo is nothing but wasted potential. He’s an insult to himself, the story, common sense, and the Greek culture. Of all the incredible things he could've been, he became the most insulting of them all. I really cannot bear to see this fucking idiot and his punching-bag face, pretending to be Apollo. He’s not Apollo.

But if there is a guy I can see less than him, then let me introduce you to…

_______________________________

Kronos: Supreme Master of Wasted Potential

First of all: why is Kronos here? Why does this love story need Persephone to defeat a big bad guy? Just to show how cool and badass she is? Considering that their fight was a joke, it didn't work very well.

But okay, let's say we need a villain Because Yes. Kronos is still a huge waste of potential, probably the biggest waste of potential of the whole series until now. He could’ve been an interesting, multifaceted character, but he became a cartoonish supervillain har-har I want power.

Sigh.

But let’s take a step back and talk about the real, mythological Kronos. His story starts with his parents, Uranus and Gaia. The two had a lot of sons, including Titans (like Kronos) and Hecatonchires (monsters with fifty heads and one hundred arms). Disgusted by their monstrous nature or maybe just out of fear of being overthrown, Uranus chained his sons away into Gaia's womb (aka the Tartarus) so that they could never come out again.

Gaia suffered from this decision, so she devised a plan: she made a stone sickle, gathered her sons and tried to persuade them to castrate Uranus.

All of her sons were afraid of Uranus, Kronos was the only one brave enough to do it. And he was successful: he overthrew his father and became the new ruler of the universe, along with his wife/sister Rhea.

However, after becoming king, he didn't free all of his brothers as his mother wanted, but locked Hecatonchires and Cyclopes away once again. And so, Gaia told him that, one day, he would meet his father’s same fate and be overthrown by one of his own children.

Scared by these words, Kronos devised a plan: every time he had a new child, he took the baby from Rhea and swallowed them. Rhea was desperate and, in order to save her last son Zeus, she sought Gaia's help.

So Rhea gave birth to Zeus in a secret place, then handed Kronos a stone wrapped in clothes: he swallowed it, thinking that it was his son. This way, Zeus managed to escape the same fate as his siblings and was raised in secret, away from his father, until he was old enough to come back and fulfill his destiny.

And now, you may think Zeus overthrew his father with a sword and killed him and nah nah nah, myths are not that stupid and predictable. Zeus didn’t use violence to overthrow his father, but intelligence. He disguised himself to reach Kronos' court and, at the right time, he gave him a drink. That drink was an emetic (given by Gaia), that forced Kronos to throw up everything he swallowed, in reverse order: first the stone he thought was his last son, then Zeus' brothers and sisters.

After freeing his siblings, Zeus did what his father would've never done: he released the Hecatoncheires and the Cyclops to help him in the following battle against Kronos and the other Titans, a battle known as Titanomachy.

The war ended with the victory of the Olympians (i.e. Zeus and his siblings). Many Titans were confined in Tartarus, under the Hecatonchires' control, others were not imprisoned and kept appearing in other myths.

And Kronos? His fate differs depending on the myths. In some versions, he was imprisoned in Tartarus. But according to other, more interesting versions, Zeus forgave him after years, freed him and Kronos became king of the Elysian Fields: the famous earthly paradise reserved for the greatest Greek heroes.

Now. Just look at all of this beautiful, beautiful potential.

We have Gaia, a powerful goddess who overthrew two rulers of the universe, without moving a finger. A goddess strong and clever, but also a mother who wanted all of her children to be free - even the most hideous ones. She could’ve been a tragic figure, a master manipulator, or an evil schemer. Or all these things!

We have the Hecatonchires: fighters so powerful, to turn the tide of any battle. They could’ve been scary and intimidating, but also tragic monsters who just wanted to be accepted. They could’ve taught a beautiful lesson about the importance of accepting the ugly and giving everyone a chance to prove themselves.

Then we have Kronos. And Kronos had everything to be the greatest character.

Think about this concept: Kronos has always been afraid of Uranus, just like his brothers. He was just better at hiding his feelings. And that visceral fear is still inside him, it still haunts him after centuries, just like the memory of how he overthrew his father. And that fear takes the shape of paranoid thoughts about his father coming back to take the throne.

Kronos could’ve seen his father haunting him, but he could’ve also dissociated and seen himself as his father. In his altered state of mind, he could’ve been both the king and the one who overthrows him.

That could’ve made him a truly dangerous, unhinged character. A god who can’t see what’s real anymore, obsessed with the ghosts of his past. A god with nothing to lose and everything to gain. After all, if he kills his children again, the throne would be his once more. And, since he sees himself as himself and as his father at the same time, he would think that he is the "true king" coming back to take his throne.

That could’ve been awesome. Kronos could've been complex, desperate and multifaceted, a villain to pity and to be afraid of. A truly new, interesting version to know and love.

And do you have any idea how incredible Zeus could’ve been in this version? We could see him facing Kronos again, still as strong and determined as when he was young. And while everyone would expect him to kill Kronos, he would use his intelligence once again. He would prove to Kronos (and to everyone else) how intelligence is always superior to violence and how he's a good leader, despite his thousands of flaws.

Also, we could've seen Zeus talking to the defeated Kronos and making him the ruler of the Elysian Fields. We could've had a meaningful ending, in which Zeus understands Kronos' fears and shares his own.

I would’ve adored this, because according to the myth, Zeus was also supposed to be overthrown by a son! Hence why he swallowed Metis (his first wife) while she was pregnant.

The myth never truly clarifies who this supposed "son" is, but according to the different versions, Metis was pregnant not with a son, but with a daughter. A daughter who, one day, would be born, full grown, from Zeus' head. A daughter who would become Zeus' favorite child: Athena.

Honestly? I ADORE the idea that there was never a son to overthrow Zeus, but a daughter. And she would not overthrow his father by violence like her grandfather or by intelligence like her father, but by love. Athena doesn't need to take the throne from her father physically, she doesn't even need to sit on that throne: not when her father loves her more than anything else.

And I love the idea that Zeus is aware of that. He knows his daughter is his weakness. He knows that, if she asks, he will willingly give her that throne, because he loves her too much. And I would've loved to see him sharing these thoughts with the defeated Kronos. It could've been a beautiful moment, to see Zeus talking with the fatherly figure he always missed from his life. It could've led to a beautiful, meaningful ending for a dramatic story.

But can you see the problem here? This concept works for a story about Zeus, not about Hades and Persephone! These two have nothing to do with Kronos! Heck, even Rachel Smythe knows it, considering she had to pull a stupid plot point out of thin air, to explain why Kronos would give a damn about Persephone!

In case you were wondering: yes, the fertility-magical-power-battery-thing is bullshit. Gods don’t need a magical battery to be powerful. And no, fertility goddesses are not rare either: Aphrodite, Demeter, Hera, even Artemis are just a few of the fertility goddesses in Greek mythology. Kronos could’ve picked his favorite from a large pool, instead of becoming an absolute creep with Persephone in the stupidest fight of all time.

And speaking of that, two words on the supposed “fight”. First of all, apologies to all fights for being associated with this thing, because this was anything but a fight: it was a cartoonish conversation accompanied by the umpteenth sexualization of Persephone, who first appeared fully naked, then with a dress so stupid to defy the laws of physics and perspective.

And if you don’t believe me, please see it by yourself: this is how the dress was supposed to be, according to episode 75

This is how it ended up. Apparently, the Fates didn’t predict how huge Persephone’s boobs would be and the neckline didn’t grow accordingly: I feared to see one of them slipping out from it anytime during the “fight”

Also, please appreciate how Persephone is turned to the side, but the dress’ stupidly huge neckline is shown from the front, otherwise we would’ve seen her full naked boobs.

And that stupid neckline kept bothering me throughout the whole “fight”, because it kept changing size. Check the episodes and see it by yourself: sometimes it’s smaller, other times it’s wider and it keeps moving in impossible ways. It drove me insane.

But since we’re talking about drawings, please allow me a very brief parenthesis about them too.

_______________________________

The drawings are a joke

I am not an artist. I can barely draw a straight line by hand. But I studied art history, perspective, proportions and colors, so I’m not completely clueless.

But you don’t need to be clueless, to notice how bad the drawings became. If you have two eyes and saw another human being in your life before, then you can notice by yourself how bad they are.

It’s not a secret that Lore Olympus’ art style changed over time. In the beginning, this comic was characterized by a lot of straight lines and geometric shapes, alternating and mixing with gentle curves. There were blur effects, colored outlines, a lot of details that gave an overall dreamy, ethereal vibe to every chapter (like the soft glow that accompanied the gods).

But as the story progressed, these elements disappeared. The geometric shapes gave way to an overall “softness” and roundness. The dreamy vibes and blur effects were replaced by sharper, clearer drawings. A distinct black outline now marks every character.

And speaking of characters, they were the ones who changed more. Lore Olympus always had funny, silly faces but the characters were also able to be serious and look natural. Now all we have are grotesque faces: the characters are a collection of caricatures and no one has a normal expression anymore. Check by yourself, by confronting a random episode of the third act with the first one: they’re two different worlds.

The disproportions were common too, since episode one. But at least they were somehow plausible, while now they’re completely absurd. It’s as if Mrs Smythe completely forgot what a human being looks like.

And this is pretty evident in how all characters became a rough draft of the two protagonists: all women got Persephone’s face, all men become buff and huge, with wide-ass shoulders and teeny tiny heads. This is particularly obvious at the end of season 2 / start of season 3, when we see some of the funniest images ever, like Hades with a tiny head and shoulders as wide as the entire USA

Or this hilariously bad image of Zeus with clown shoes and a head as big as his deformed hand.

No excuse can justify these drawings: no one is running after Mrs Smythe, nor forcing her to draw, and people are paying her real money to work on this webcomic. The least she can do is draw something that doesn’t look like a bad distortion of a human being.

Unless this isn’t her drawing, but her staff’s work. In that case, they are still paid to do their job, right? Or do they think this story is a joke and decide to show how much of a joke it is, by turning everyone into a grotesque caricature?

_______________________________

In conclusion

Lore Olympus is hilarious because of how bad the writing is. It’s a manual example of how not to write a climax for your story. It’s a perfect demonstration of how you can still fail, even with great characters with endless possibilities. It’s a list of all the mistakes you can make as an artist.

If you’re a writer or an artist in general, please check Lore Olympus and study it. Here you will find everything you should never do and all the mistakes you should never make.

As a writer myself, I appreciate Lore Olympus, because I need works that teach me what I shouldn’t do. Good teachers are useful, but bad ones are even more useful, because it’s thanks to them that I can learn and grow and make better stories. Lore Olympus might be a failure from an artistic and writing point of view, but it might also serve as a foundation, from which other people can develop better ideas.

Actually, it already did it! Do you want to read a better story, rose from the disappointing ashes of Lore Olympus? Then check Lore Rekindled and @genericpuff: you will find their work here on Tumblr. They planned everything ahead and it’s pretty clear by reading it. The characters make more sense, the events have a more logical explanation. And the art style is much, much better than the last Lore Olympus.

We will meet again for the third and (for now) final post about this series, a much-needed post about the protagonists of this story: Hades, Persephone and Demeter.

<- Previous post - Next post ->

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

TAGLIST:

@royalprinceroman @mudpuddlenl @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24 @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue @cynicalandsarcastic @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire

@riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 @chewy-rubies @groaaaaan @arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @queen-of-all-things-snuggly @reesiereads

@dracayd-universe @starlightnyx @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing

@thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @boopypastaissalty @nevenastark @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @coldbookworm @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist

#lore olympus #lore olympus criticism #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo criticism #lo critical #anti lo #greek gods #greek myth #zeus #apollo #kronos #lo zeus #lo apollo #lo kronos

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windvexer · 1 month

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Heyy! If it’s not too much of a hassle what are some divination tips for tarot? Sometimes it feels like I am really good and than other times it’s like ehh

Sure, I could use a break before I start crocheting again 😅

I want to emphasize that tarot is one of those things where people really build up personal beliefs around it, so the following is in no way universal. It's all just what I currently feel and believe, heavily influenced by my beliefs as a spirit-working witch.

Most of the actual tips are at the end. I hope this helps!

Structures and Methodology

Tarot can't "magically" come up with valid answers no matter how it's put into use. It's a hammer and a screw situation; sometimes, using the tool incorrectly is less than useless.

Not all tarot spreads are very useful. The type of spread can have a huge influence on success. Try setting aside 'one question per card' spreads and see if that helps improve consistency in your results.

Not all tarot meanings are very useful. Tarot card meanings evolve and change over time. Modern meanings tend to be much more heavily skewed towards topics of introspection and self-help. Try reading books about the history and interpretations of tarot cards themselves to expand your understanding of each card. I recommend The Mystical Origins of the Tarot by Paul Huson for a strictly historical look.

Not all tarot questions are very useful. Learning how to phrase and frame questions, along with how to select a spread to place them in, are vital skills for the reader. Try focusing on strictly defined, open-ended questions.

Not every tarot deck is useful for every reader. It can come down to art and author meanings, but it can also come down to personal connection: a deck may work great for you for reading some types of questions, but fall flat on other types; or be more hit-or-miss. If you have multiple decks, try rotating between them or doing deck interviews to discover what types of questions they best address.

Memorizing the cards is not necessarily useful. It's not just that there are 78 cards, with 78 potential reversed meanings, each card in and of itself potentially having multiple meanings; it's also that depending on context, the core meaning can entirely change. Professional readers at events will pull out the guidebook and look up card meanings. There is no actual reason to try and memorize the cards unless you really just want to.

It's useful to have a map that helps navigate the cards. By adopting simple structures that paint large parts of the deck with broad meaning, interpretations can be easier to tackle. Another popular 'map' is the Fool's Journey.

You don't have to use the entire deck for every reading. Only using some parts of a deck to read is called reading with a restricted deck, and I really recommend practicing it as a way to develop a relationship with the deck structure. It can also be a very useful way to focus readings on one area of life (e.g., a new business venture reading may be read using only Wands and Pentacles).

That being said,

Check to see if cards are accidentally missing. Reading with a restricted deck is one thing, but I find my readings go weird if a card accidentally fell out and is lost.

You should take notes on your readings. I know it's a hassle, but the information you can glean and analyze from your own work is invaluable to figuring a lot of stuff out, like, what kinds of spreads work best for me? And what kinds of questions do I excel or fail at? Because next comes...

Energy and Individuality

Some questions are more draining or difficult to read than other questions. Here are my illustrated beliefs on the matter, explaining why some questions that seem straightforward can be nigh impossible to grasp. Try taking notes on the scope of the questions you can answer well.

Not all diviners are equally skilled at reading on all things. A diviner may have a special talent for certain types of questions (such as the outcomes of new ventures, or navigating the inner landscape), yet may fall flat when it comes to other questions (relationships or social intent, for example).

Any specific situation may have barriers to being read clearly. This is true even of mundane situations not expected to have magical influence. Sometimes, a certain situation, person, or concept will be shielded from view - and that can have nothing to do with the reader or querent.

Celestial timing may be a factor. Things like moon phase, time of year, or time of day can sometimes influence people's abilities to easily connect or easily interpret cards. Try paying attention to timing as part of note-taking and see if that's a factor.

Caffeine, drugs, alcohol, and rest can be a factor. Once I reach a certain level of fatigue (usually before bedtime) I can't read at all. Caffeine can sometimes also "close the veil" for me and limit me from being able to interpret readings. It might not be a factor for everyone, but it's something to pay attention to!

For practitioners, metaphysical workings can use up all available energy for divination. I find that my "pool" of magical energy feeds both my divination and my spellwork. Exhausting myself in one area (such as doing lots of energy work exercises) means I have exhausted myself in another area (no juice left for readings).

Witchcraft and Magic

Spells and wards can affect your ability to perform divination, sometimes in weird and unexpected ways. Go through spell notes to see if there is a chance prior, ongoing spells may be messing with your ability to read on certain questions. A big giveaway is when divination doesn't seem to work well specifically within a warded area, but this isn't a strict rule.

Prepare a place of reading, or reading cloth, enchanted to assist with finding answers. By consecrating and tending to such a place, such as a divinatory altar or divinatory reading mat, powers of far seeing, truth, and accuracy can be accumulated and much more easily raised. For those that have the space, a full divinatory altar can be an extraordinary tool. For such places, especially consider the power of symbols which open roads and gates.

Prepare a Charm of True Reading. Find, or develop, a small rhyme, charm, or prayer that calls on powers which support you and requests that your upcoming reading be clear and true. Repeat this before each reading, as desired.

Prepare an oil. A skin-safe carrier oil steeped with bay laurel, star anise, and lavender; or just bay leaf if the grocery store fails you, can be enchanted (especially under the full moon) to assist with opening the second sight and securing more accurate readings. Dab some on your forehead, ideally along with the Charm of True Reading.

Prepare a head covering. For some people, covering the head and/or partially blocking vision, can assist with entering divinatory headspace and with the receipt of visions and intuitive connections. As much as I like fancy things, I often end up using sunglasses and a hat. Being in a dark room might help as well, especially if you can get a candle in there.

Prepare incense. Here again bay laurel, star anise, and lavender can serve if you're able to powder and burn your own blends (remember to enchant them); but an enchanted stick of commercial incense will be fine (in any scent). Enchant the incense for the purpose of casting away doubt and influences that cause ill-sight, and to create an energetic haven where answers readily arrive to be interpreted by you, the reader.

Cast a circle. If you like to write your own rituals, especially focus on the concept of the circle being a liminal space between time that connects the worlds, almost like Grand Central Station where many threads of fate (and information) meet.

Consecrate your deck. Use any consecration ritual you like, but especially one that employs powers supportive of divination, true seeing, and psychism. This is almost certainly best done on a full moon. Consecrate your deck to be a tool which can peer into the threads of fate on your behalf, and then only reflect absolute truth back to you.

Enchant a tool to nurture and safeguard your decks. A lovely amethyst stone or clear quartz (or any variety of stone, bought or found), maybe one marked as special by putting it in a handy net, can be enchanted to be a protector of any deck it sits on. The value of this is to keep the deck enthroned in an additional layer of protection against untruth, but also to keep it bathed in energy related to divination and psychism. For those worried about decks getting magically "dirty," this is a good solution.

Also, cleansing decks sometimes is necessary, but it can be an easy operation. I find that spreading the entire deck face-down and mixing up all the cards in a big pile provides an adequate cleansing much of the time.

Spirit Work

Show your deck some love by providing it with offerings and a shrine, just as you would for an honored spirit. If the shrine isn't possible, an offering is excellent - maybe once weekly or monthly (depending on how often you use it), and even a small offering before each reading is useful. In my beliefs, this action goes far beyond making a deck happy with you - it can provide real, tangible effects on energy drain and the 'power' of your readings.

Petition gods, ancestors, or helper spirits. Beyond a Charm of True Reading, simply praying to helpful and benevolent powers to provide an assist can be really helpful. This is also an important way to develop a relationship with a guiding divinatory power. Speaking of which,

Get in good with a god or spirit who is associated with divination, psychism, etc. The Moon itself is a very solid choice. Apollo can see the future, and his buddy Bay Laurel (whom itself can be worked with as a divinatory spirit) can pack quite the punch. The dead are often said to be very good at helping with divination, but necromancy isn't for everyone. A witch who wants to become powerful in the ways of divination is wise to seek out helper spirits who are very good at this task.

Don't forget the gods and spirits of the thing you want to read on. If I wanted to know whether or not selling something online is worth the trouble, I might not just ask a far-seeing spirit to help me. I might also petition Hermes to grant me special insight into his domain. You can even use other spells you've cast (such as a prosperity spell) as a "foothold" into a certain area, but that's a whole topic in and of itself.

From time to time, a spirit may cause trouble. Divination can sometimes be interfered with by spirits who are upset with us. General offerings to appease offended spirits, or to make nice with the spiritual neighborhood around you, are well undertaken. They can be done even if you don't know that you've actually upset anyone.

#answered #divination #tarot #witchcraft #spirit work #tbl

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justporo · 7 months

Text

Bookcases

A comment and a comment reblog inspired a thought (thank you!) - @kruczecycki and @notabot2.

Let me try and paint a picture for you that I feel like might represent Astarion as well as his aesthetic:

Astarion always had had a thing for, well - things. But of course they weren't just things. They were works of art, they were memories, they were opportunities, they were collectibles.

And one of his favourite kinds of things had always been: books. So once he'd had the opportunity, he'd gotten bookcases - up to the ceiling, filling a whole wall. And maybe even a whole room sometime. Because they filled up so quickly.

It wasn't a single genre dominating but rather an eclectic collection of everything that peaked the vanpire's interest. Poetry, history, novels of all kinds (and of course every Drizzt book he could find), journals, collections of letters, even encyclopaedias.

To the untrained eye, it might have been nothing but chaos because it followed no definite order. But it wasn't a mess at all. Astarion always knew where everything was. For every book, he could tell you where and when he'd gotten it and give you at least an outline of what it was about.

Every single volume was always handled with care, no matter if it looked (and probably was) centuries old or was brand new. But still every book was meant to be taken out, to be read and experienced, not only to be looked at in its neat place high up on the shelf.

Between and in front of the books, where the space would allow, there were more things. Little things, pretty things. Things that were aesthetic to look at or things that reminded him of pleasant memories. A small bronze statue, a mechanical clock under a glass cover ticking away, a small portrait painting of no one really, a framed old map of Baldur’s Gate, pressed exotic flowers. In some places you had added little somethings for him as well: a plant maybe and a small painting you had gotten painted of the two of you, a neatly lettered version of his favourite poem in a frame.

Whenever you looked at Astarion's bookcases you were immediately ensnared, very much similar to how it felt with the man himself: you didn't even know where to look first. It felt like you could never posssibly take in all the beauty at once.

There was just so much interesting and beautiful stuff, so many intricate details, so many various titles. You could've easily gotten lost in every single one of them. And that was what added so much to the beauty: on the surface, it was incredible to look at, but it was so much more! There was also so much depth and such a caleidoscope of different aspects, each asking to be explored and admired. Every single one of them worthy of your undivided, loving attention.

You liked watching Astarion add more things to his bookcases, as much as to himself: new treasures, different pages, fresh ideas. And then you also loved to listen to him talk about his latest additions and why they were so interesting to him.

Another thing you enjoyed to do was to just look at the huge collection. Tilting your head to read all the titles and softly letting your fingertips wander over the spines: old and new, cracked and broken, smooth and flat. Then sometimes you would slide one of the huge tomes or several smaller books out of their designated places - you knew you were always welcome to go explore. You liked to snuggle up with them on a nearby seat, getting lost in them for a while with your legs swung over the side of the chair. Maybe find your way into a new world or looking at a new perspective of your own.

But it was even better when you did that together with Astarion. Let him suggest several different possible books to possibly pick. Watch his face light up when he started to talk about them.

And then snuggling up together on the couch, getting cosy and letting Astarion read something to you. Maybe learning something new, find about something you hadn't known before or just enjoying an absolutely made up story - and always learning about and starting to love a new aspect of your vampire.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x reader #drabble #yes this is also a metaphor for how I think your bookshelf reflects personality #its very on the nose I know #poro drabbles

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taralen · 4 months

Text

Why I draw Spamton the way I do and in defense of the "Tumblr sexyman" Spamton G. Spamton. An ESSAY.

EDIT 2/3/24 - Fixed some grammatical errors, changed font colors to make them easier to read against a white background, and reframed some of my arguments, especially regarding the "Yaoi style" portion, as it came across as ignorant and spiteful.

I follow the #spamton tag here, and I hate to say it, but it's full of artists jabbing at other artists who so happen to draw Spamton handsome. I see comments like, "No, he's a middle-aged sleazeball who is grungy and dirty." Often, these depictions show him with graying hair, ratty clothes, and covered in filth and grime. While there is nothing inherently wrong about drawing him this way, I find it disingenuous that the same people who draw him this way criticize people who draw him more handsome and or clean-cut because this depiction is even less based on his canon appearance than someone simply drawing him more realistically proportioned and with a pleasing visage (the definition of what this is varies by artist, but they're all often reduced to just "tumblr sexyman.") I see similar comments by people who draw him in what they may describe as "disgusting" or a "dirty scammer."

If Toby intended for Spamton to look dirty and gross, he would have simply gone with a similar design route to this character as an NPC in Undertale.

Toby or other official arts never depict him with the following, even though I see it in fan art all the time:

Ball-jointed hands. Some artists draw them properly and make them look super cool. Simple lines aren't how they look in reality, but I get why people do that. Either way, it's not canon.

Dirty with tattered clothes. Spamton is only ever shown with a black blazer. It's debatable if he wears pants, but Toby has also drawn him with a collared shirt and tie.

Graying hair. Should be obvious. He's only ever seen with jet-black hair.

Overweight/Fat. While some fan depictions of this are cute, it's not canon. Spamton is always drawn thin but not necessarily in shape.

Buff. Same as the above. It looks really good in some fanart but is also not canon.

Tail. It can look really, really cute, but not canon for him or any of the Addisons.

Feathers. Only Swatch and the Swatchlings are depicted with feathers in Cyber World.

"40+ years old" - There is zero evidence of this in-game or in official merchandise or media. This assumption apparently comes from people assuming that his birthday would be the same as the first "spam email," which (at the time of this writing) was 46 years ago. This is a false equivalency since there is no indication that Spamton has any associations with our real-world history of spam emails. It should also be noted that this was not a true spam email. The only thing closest to Spamton in association with real spam email history may be his favorite year, 1997, in which spam marketing emails became frequent nuisances. However, actions to stop spam mail started in 1996, and it was by the 2000s that they became a serious concern because technology had since advanced. If he were truly born in 1978, he would only be 19 by 1997. While not impossible, it's not how most people see him in his Big Shot years of barely just entering adulthood. Also, as someone who has lived through most of the 90s, I can attest to a lot of this. Spam stuff existed, but news reports only heavily got into it by the 2000s.

100% Inorganic or Robot. While a cool idea, there is more evidence against this, like his ability to eat, sleep, and genuinely feel pain.

Boobs. I get most people who do this are doing it for fun, but it's not canon to his design, lol.

Tall. The most obvious one. Spamton is below average height, as made evident by his nearly 1:1 scale with Kris, a teenager.

Toddler-sized. Same as above. I won't lie that it can be drawn super cute, though. Haha!

With all that being said, why is it such a contention among his fans to depict him as handsome?

There is evidence to support that Spamton is at least, to some degree, good-looking but unconventionally attractive based on several sources. It should be noted that people often use his shop sprite as the best representation of his head, but this isn't accurate, either. In Undertale and Deltarune, because of its cartoonish sprites, it shouldn't surprise anyone that Spamton's are the most inaccurate and change frequently. Another user posted an entire comparison of all his sprites and how drastically inconsistent they are. I tried searching through my likes for this, but I can't find it. If anyone finds this, please link or reblog it to this post. Anyway, the intent of the post was to show artists that there are numerous different ways you can interpret Spamton's design with what's provided in the game, alone.

Stuff people often miss that is canon:

Lips. Believe it or not, this bastard's got kissable lips. Toby's recent art and his Neo attack are proof of this.

Eyes under the glasses. Seen in his sprite of going "BIG SHOT" the first time with Kris. It also hints at heterochromia because they contrast in color with yellow pupils under the pink and pink under the yellow.

NEO has no visible jaw hinge line. Only puppet Spamton does. Big Shot Spamton doesn't have one, either.

NEO's glasses' colors are reversed, and they are pince-nez style.

Androgynous sense of fashion. This is the least missed one, but it's worth mentioning. Spamton has no issues wearing pink, a color nowadays associated with women, and the NEO body has fabulous heels in addition to mostly being a magenta pink. The dress on the mannequin that greatly resembles him (and may hint at him being a white Addison before) shows a pretty dress that mirrors the one Mettaton wore in Undertale.

So then, WHY is he being depicted as handsome or unconventionally good-looking a BAD thing?

There really shouldn't be an issue with it at all. It's less offensive and technically more canon than many of the supposed depictions of him being a sleazebag who looks like he hasn't showered in a century and is hooked up on drugs or booze. You don't become a media darling without a charming personality. Mettaton only got successful in Undertale before he got his EX body because there was literally nothing else the people could watch. Spamton, on the other hand, was competing against many, so he had to stand out and look good even with the help of Mike (and possibly Tenna).

I often see people make this very reductive argument that it's a "yaoi style." This is by far one of the stupidest arguments I've ever seen. Drawing good-looking men is NOT equivalent to liking Yaoi. There are plenty of other genres of Asian-origin or Anime-styled media that feature pretty boys that have nothing to do with Boy's Love. Even Shounen anime has some bishies. Drawing bishounen-style male characters is a design choice and does not indicate someone's interest in Yaoi media. I swear, I have never seen this problem with Eastern fans. It's rude to lump people with similar art styles under something most people who make this claim don't even understand. I've seen people make upset comments about other people calling their style stuff like "Cal-Arts" even if they never went to Cal-Arts or like the media produced by them. It's the same principle. Stop lumping entire artists under one umbrella.

I draw him handsome because it's simply the way I see him. I love many other depictions of him, undoubtedly, and I even have a sticker set that depicts him with the graying hair, but it looks really good anyway. My point is, the fact that people who draw him dark and handsome shouldn't be scrutinized any more than people who draw him way more off base.

My personal contentions with the assumption he is a "dirty sleazebag old man."

I find this absolutely hilarious because this is a genuine stereotype and stock character of people similar to him. The douchebag salesman is a trope that's been around for a long time, but people don't seem to realize that this is a caricature and not representative of real salespeople.

Go to any @$%^ing department store or even an electronics one. Do you ever see anyone selling you stuff looking like they crawled out of the trash? Most are lower-class people who can't find any other job, meaning they are stuck with sales. It takes skill to be a good salesman, and I hate to brag, but I can probably sell you a #@$%ing soap bar and convince you that the extra $10 you're spending on it over a drugstore brand is better for your hands by deeply moisturizing them through herbal extracts and only "naturally" derived cleansing agents. Your hands are dry from the cold, drawing moisture out of them, so the investment would be worth it for the health of your skin during this harsh winter season. Why risk a drugstore brand that will only make your hands feel even rougher, flakier, and cracked? Stuff like this requires you to look someone in the eyes and observe who they are—their body language, way of carrying themselves, and the cadence of how they respond to your words. Does it always work? No. However, do you think anyone would $%^&ing buy ANY LEGAL PRODUCT if a salesperson looked like they were a shady crack dealer who was suspicious as %^&( to deal with? NO. It's a stereotype caricature for a REASON. It's meant to demean the reality of the salesperson who is forced to peddle a stupid product for a living. It's hard, and if anything, GET MAD at the people who are the ones making the crappy product! Yeah, some salesmen are bad at their jobs, but do you really believe that Cyber City's #1 RATED SALESMAN got there from being mediocre?! He may have gotten outside help for something that Toby never made clear, but he definitely does NOT lack the personality to make a great salesman. And believe it or not, there is plenty of evidence to prove he WASN'T bad at it! The other NPCs sell stuff that was once his goods but with his labels removed, and based on his statement of wanting to "make his own deals," this heavily implies he was NOT selling products he wanted to sell before he became a Big Shot. He has a strong sense of pride in the way he sees and presents himself, and I think this may be overlooked by people who make him look as ratty as possible.

I will also CLEARLY state this but this depiction overall does several of the following, which I KNOW many people will say is bad:

Ageism. Why do so many people, mostly Zoomers, assume that a man in his 40s is washed-up, gross, or even considered old? I've seen hotter men in their 40s than some young men in their early 20s.

Downplays his mental health struggles. One of the best things about Spamton is how he DOESN'T play into just the "sleazebag" stereotype. Once we go into his shop, we see that he is truly just a very broken man. His theme song is a FARCE to try and convince you that he's tougher than he really is.

Classist/Poor-Shaming. The assumption that a homeless person has to have no sense of cleanliness. Please, for the love of all that is good, meet actual homeless people. Not all of them are like this. Spamton clearly keeps himself rather clean for someone who dumpster dives. He is trying to stay true to himself, and his sense of self is one of pride. There is no dialogue or description to imply he smells or lacks proper hygiene.

Again, while there is nothing inherently wrong with drawing him this way, I just want people to be more aware of why they draw him this way. Think of it like a thought experiment to reflect on why you see him the way you do. How I draw Spamton comes from a place of deep empathy, love, and life experiences I've had in sales in addition to ALWAYS being customer-facing, meaning I know what works and what doesn't for over a DECADE. It's rather bizarre to me that people who claim to be big fans of him draw him in such a demeaning way that goes beyond the canon depiction and lowers him to absolute dirt, almost like beating this character with the ugly stick just because it's "funny." Is he a tragic character to you? Or is he simply a clown to laugh at for his failures and hardships? How we depict and see people is utterly fascinating because it reflects in real life, too.

You can take the exact same person and show them to different groups of people, and they will all see the same person differently. They don't have to be artists, but they tend to vary if you ask their opinions. For example, I think the actor Mads Mikkelsen is very attractive, but I know many who wouldn't understand why. A guy I've had a crush on for years is one of the hottest men ever to me, but a friend of mine called him "just a guy."

I fully understand that some people find the way I draw him stupid. It is what it is. I can't force you to like it.

I'm simply trying to point out my reasonings for why I draw him this way, and I would like others to think about their methods, too, and NOT to bash other people outright or go "ewww Yaoi tumblr sexyman" just because someone doesn't depict him with stereotypical traits or as "100% canon style" (which is mostly just copying the game's sprite style.)

#musings #character analysis #character design analysis #spamton #essay #spamton g spamton #deltarune #big shot spamton #spamton neo #sneo #cw long post #long post #art style study #art style

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24hrsoda · 3 months

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BAT AU FAQ (?)

i get a bit of the same questions so i’m gonna try to post some kind of list of answers and hopefully this clears stuff up

is jason a vulture or a turkey?

jason is a vulture. often times in media vultures are depicted as grumpy guys with bright red heads and it reminded me of red hood.

what kind of bird is Dick?

dick is a raven! most people seemed to guess correctly which is nice

what kind of bats are bruce, cass, and damian?

i actually don’t know lol. i just drew a few cute shapes and stuck some ears on them! if you know more about bats than i do (i know next to nothing) feel free to imagine whatever you’d like! there’s no right or wrong answer :)

what is alfred?

alfred is a human! i see him as some kind of caretaker to bruce and his babies! like the old lady from the aristocats

where is duke/steph/babs/other character?

i’m not sure if i should include everyone or what they’d be…

i’d still say i’m fairly new to comics (longer under the cut)

i’ve only been in to dc for about 2 years and have only read the current batman run as far back as the joker war! most of my reading is from anecdotal mini runs, or just seeking out my favorite characters and hopping around from different runs to skim a book or two, and reading what i can find in spanish in physical form.

my knowledge of some of these characters and their personality is limited to none (still learning.) they may not be included in some aus art or writings i make because i don’t know enough about them to know their personalities or what i think “fits” yet

mostly because DC fans have been pretty unforgiving when it comes to batman’s extended universe 😅 asking about their relations to bruce have given answers like “go read a comic” (which is fair) to more harsher things, being called stupid, racist, misogynistic, the r-slur, etc and accused “erasing” character history/family by asking if they are bruce’s family or kids . if i explain i don’t have that knowledge, i’ve even been told i just shouldn’t talk about them if i don’t know anything about them.

i’m sorry if your favorite character doenst get drawn, or is drawn as an animal you don’t like. you are welcome to say what you think they’d be or make your own drawings, i’d be happy to see it! i just don’t have the energy for people to fight with me or each other about what they think is right or wrong. i do this all for fun in what little free time i have 😭

#bat au #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #cassandra cain #jason todd #dick grayson

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fuckyeahmhawkefenris · 22 days

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MAJOR update

So I don't know if anyone else even cares about this stuff, but I made some huge progress with tagging/retagging things here. For some time I haven't been tagging any posts at all lacking motivation because, seriously, does anyone even look at tags these days?

Still, my love for this ship keeps me going. Maker, I'd forgotten how therapeutic the process is. For a few days I almost stopped dwelling on my own personal issues.

Anyway

Allow me to remind y'all that this blog has a list of TAGS, a rather extensive one. I shudder to think how much time I spent compiling it all, but it does make me happier somehow

We have an impressive collection of fanart, so many comic bits they had to be separated into their own category to make it possible to navigate through all the artwork, writings that I don't think can be found anywhere else. In the beginning this fandom also used to produce a lot of memes and jokes, not so much of it now, but we don't forget our history! There is so much to uncover and rediscover.

I guess that canoodling/hugging/cuddling/snuggling tags are still a mess (always have been) despite my best efforts, but I genuinely tried to make it make sense somewhat. Having 8000+ pieces of art for your ship gets you there. Hard to believe it used to be almost nonexisistent in the beginning. It was so easy to navigate in 2012...

I didn't even try to sort out the comics, and fiction is not tagged either, except for the most basic basics.

Well, if anyone has any better ideas/suggestions don't be shy about @ ing me. Hell, if you can think of any new tags worth adding, let me know. And if you could reply to the relevant posts with it, it'd be fantastic.

If you're bored and don't mind spending some time with Fenris and Hawke, observing them love each other, please take a look at the list. There are also separate pages for the people who make fanart and write stuff for us, so you can always find more of their works by looking up the artists name in the tags. Though this page is forever in progress.

There's always room for improvement, so if you have anything to say, PLEASE SAY IT.

Also, the pornstash is up again, and now there is some semblance of a system.

It is a members-only blog, since almost all of its content is flagged and can only be viewed by members. So you need to become one. Everyone is welcome to join, but please don't follow it. All you need to do is like this post. I'll see your username and send you an invite. After that you'll need to check your e-mail (NOT tumblr inbox!) and follow the link you'll find there. And please read the post i linked carefully, there's vital information in it.

I'm just really tired

I'd really like to sort this place out completely so that when I retire, and someone is willing to take it off my hands, I could be at peace.

#fenhawke #hawris #male hawke x fenris #male hawke #garrett hawke #custom hawke #dragon age 2 #announcements #theBlog

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fallout-fucker · 2 months

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Random Sole x Hancock Headcanon - Emails.

Sole figures out how to get some sort of online connection up and running again purely so they can send emails to Hancock's terminal from their Pip-Boy whenever they're apart. Love sick idiots.

Cue Hancock blushing and kicking his feet whilst reading the emails. He invents the ;) emote. Sole, in turn, makes the ^-^ and :3 emotes.

They both invent selfies. Hancock's the first to send one when he realises he can send pictures. It's a fucking process but he barters for old parts here and there and gets help from Kent. Eventually he has a working camera for his terminal. The first selfie was him stood on his couch, high af and surrounded by an assortment of baked goods (Edibles) he made. The email said 'Look what I can do ;D'.

He regularly sends pictures of what he's baking or random selfies when he's high.

Sole then made a similar upgrade to their Pip-Boy the minute they could. They send him random pictures of cats and other creatures they see in their travels. Cool views or old, historic buildings and art they think he'd enjoy. A collection of Dogmeat being cute. They sent one of Danse falling over. They send him pictures of books they'll think he like. Usually literature, history, or STEM stuff. Sole also takes pictures with their shared friends and lets them email him too from their arm for a quick update.

They also show off their new builds and inventions. Gun mods, armour, ect.

They also share a 'Spotting Deacon In The Wild' collection. They have a running joke that every new disguise they spot is a 'Deacon Variant' or new Deacon 'Synth'. They add names for each 'character' and the email will say '[Insert Character Name] Deacon Unlocked!' Like, Butcher Deacon, or Diamond City Guard Deacon, etc.

On that note, they invent memes. Usually from pictures of other companions or each other.

Like when Nick was 'sleeping' one time (Wide eyed stare Synth style) and Sole sent a picture of him, captioned 'Me after the horrors'.

Or when Preston was stood looking out at the Sanctuary River after a long night. Coffee in his hand. His hat and one shoe missing. Expressionless as he stared at the sunrise.

Hancock replied 'Me fucking too, brother'.

Sole will update him on their whereabouts regularly so he stays sane.

Hancock will tell them about how Goodneighbour is doing. From Mayoral plans to general gossip. How Daisy is doing, how the local kids are, etc.

Sometimes Hancock sends the most cryptic chain spam looking things when he is stoned.

Sole can email him whenever they're nearby and plan on visiting.

Hancock sometimes requests items if he knows they’re on their way, but only if they happen to come across it or already have whatever it is.

Will email them questions that he doesn't actually mean for them to answer. Just questions to the void, really. He just uses them as an outlet for his thoughts a lot.

Or for help on a crossword puzzle.

Sole will email him when they can't sleep just in case he's also awake. Nights feel really lonely when everyone you knew died 200 years ago.

Sometimes they ask him for knowledge. Like 'Do you know if this plant is poisonous?' or things that most Commonwealthers know for survival, but Sole is still figuring out.

They ask him for leadership advise. Especially during big decisions.

They both tell each other things they've seen/heard through the grapevine that they think the other should know. 'I heard that guy you were looking for was seen in Bunker Hill' 'Some Gens 2s were spotted patrolling Medford Hospital' 'Hi :) Sorry for the late response, I was running for my life :( Tell your traders to stay away from the East Bridge- Gunners'

#Taking advantage of the fact they both canonly have devices on hand #They bring back wifi just to fucking send each other notes what idiots (I love them)#Do you think Sole ever goes to call him and realises phones don't exist anymore.#John Hancock you would've LOVED facetime #Hancock invents facetime in the Fallout Canon just to talk to his husband/wife #If Sole can have a radio tower for the Castle #Who's to decide what they can't do #They're both so smart but so dumb. They share one braincell and Dogmeat has it.#Fallout #Fallout 4 #Hancock #Sole Survivor #John Hancock #SoSu #Hancock x sole #Crack headcanon

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delfiore · 2 years

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the principles of pleasure

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!martell!reader

synopsis: the princess learns to give in to her desires with an envoy from dorne.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: some spicy stuff but no actual smut

a/n: ik i said no incest but there wILL BE A SLIGHT MENTION of the deed that rhaenyra and daemon did in that brothel because it’s essential to the plot 🧍‍♀️

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You stood out like a sore thumb.

They say a star would sooner fall upon the earth before a Dornishman set foot into the capital. Yet, here you were.

Despite whispers and chatters of the surrounding lords and ladies—clearly aimed at you—you never bat an eye. Instead, your eyes found Rhaenyra’s across the courtyard, as she tried her best to mingle with her family.

As if you read her mind, with a calculated steadiness, you made your way over to where she was.

“Princess Y/N,” Daemon said, his eyes hard and defensive, “welcome to the capital.”

She didn’t miss the animosity. Her uncle had just returned from Stepstones after all, and from what she gathered listening in at the Small Council, the Martells sided with the Triarchy, against him.

“Your Graces,” you bowed, “It is exciting to see the city again. My brother Qoren sends his regards.”

“Now that the war is over, I trust that our two houses will find common ground. You are most welcome to stay for as long as you like, Princess.” Viserys said.

“Yes, you must,” Daemon inferred.

“I thank you for your hospitality, your Grace.”

“May I introduce the Queen, Lady Alicent of House Hightower, and my daughter, the Crown Princess, Rhaenyra,” The King gestured towards the girls.

“Your Grace, Princess,” you smiled, “all the tales of your beauty truly do you no justice.”

At this, Rhaenyra let out a small laugh, heat creeping up her neck at your blatant compliment. She didn’t notice the way Daemon flit his eyes between you and her menacingly, nor the way Alicent looked to the ground at her hands.

“May I show Y/N the new tapestries?” Rhaenyra inquired, swallowing thickly.

Her father laughed. “Darling, Princess Y/N must be no stranger to tapestries, don’t you think she might find them a bit dull?”

“It’s alright, your Grace. I’d love to see them,” you then turned to Rhaenyra, and gestured for her to lead the way. “After you, my Princess.”

The words rolled off your tongue like silk. Rhaenyra found herself in a pit. There was something charming about you, and soon she found herself entranced, though you’ve only just spoken to her.

You had walked in silence beside you in the thick of the West garden when she suddenly spoke. “Do you like poetry, Y/N?”

“Poetry, songs, I enjoy them all.” You glided your hand over a big leaf. “We were raised to love art, my brother and I. My mother, in particular, told us that without it, there is no pleasure in life.”

“Pleasure can be found in many things.” Rhaenyra countered.

“Yes, it can be,” you raised your hand to show her. “This ring was gifted to me by my mother. It was given to her by her mother, and to her by her mother before.”

A clunky, golden ring adorned your middle finger, but no less beautiful. Engraved on it was the sigil of your house, a sun pierced by a spear.

She only noticed that she was holding your hand to admire it, when you flexed your fingers and the friction of it startled her. She pulled away quickly, averting your amused eyes.

“Is your mother in Sunspear?”

“My mother has passed on,” you smiled sadly.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Which is why I was saddened to hear of the news of Queen Aemma’s passing, for she was a mother as much as she was a queen.”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra said, brushing over her fingers where they had touched you. “The realm seems to have moved on rather quickly from her ever since my half-brother was born.”

“History has a tendency to discard women the moment they don’t benefit the succession line, doesn’t it?”

“When I am Queen, I will make a new order.” The princess stated, “and they will have no choice but to obey.”

“I have no doubt that you will,” your voice softened, like a prayer, before you tenderly brought her fingers to your lips to kiss them. “It’s about time this country sees some changes.

“You must excuse me, then. I have some business I must attend to. The tapestries were lovely,” you bowed, and then you were gone.

You didn’t look at the tapestries at all.

Daemon was apprehensive when she returned, but the princess was too dazed to care. An arrow had struck her heart, and no remedy could cure her of Meleys’ grasp.

The prospect of her marriage was looming over her like a dark cloud. Daemon told her all the things that people do when they’re not stuck in a loveless marriage, and she thought about you. She had never been to Dorne, but she’s heard stories. She wondered if the Dornish were any happier than people like her.

“Y/N Martell,” Daemon asked her in Valyrian, “what do you think of her?”

“I think she’s very charming.” It took weight of her to say. “I’m sure that she would find many suitors of her liking. Men would flock to see her.”

“Men and women alike,” her uncle corrected her. “The Martells have been known to act upon their carnal desires, whether it be with men or women.”

“You think Y/N—No, it can’t be.”

“Can it?” Daemon raised a knowing eyebrow.

That night he smuggled her out of the Red Keep, into the city of the smallfolk, where she saw for the first time how the people lived. She saw mothers breastfeeding their babes on the streets, vendors selling foods and goods that would barely keep them alive past dawn, fools and jesters and actors guising as royalty, mocking her to entertain others.

He took her to a pleasure house, where she saw people fuck for the pleasure of it, no marriage nor the intention of procreation attached. She saw pleasure and desire in Daemon’s eyes when he circled her like a hawk, and kissed her against a wall. Yet, Daemon refused to go further and left her there.

When she opened her eyes again, she thought she saw you, in the back behind a veil, naked between a man and a woman. She knew she wasn’t imagining it when you opened your own eyes, and held her gaze as the man descended between your legs.

Fucking is a pleasure, her uncle told her.

Rhaenyra saw what she saw at the brothel again in her dreams, yet instead of her and Daemon, she saw you, she felt you embracing her, staring into her eyes with that fiery gaze of yours.

The princess had never known bodily pleasure, but she thought she might have felt it with you. She remembered the tenderness of your touch, the weight of your body on hers, the taste of you. She awoke the next morning frustrated as her bed was empty and her mind clouded with impure thoughts of you.

She had been in the gardens the next morning when she saw you. Her heart dropped as she quickly hid behind a tall column. The visions of you still fresh in her mind, and yet you were only sitting on a bench reading. She could hardly believe that you were there at the brothel too, and now here you were.

“Princess? Is that you?”

“Seven Hells,” she muttered, and came out of hiding.

You gave her a warm smile, and beckoned her to sit next to you.

“What are you reading?”

“Poetry from Dorne, dating back to the Age of Nymeria.” You pointed to the page you were reading, “this one in particular is a love letter from a noble woman to her lover, who was also her handmaiden.”

Rhaenyra knew you were watching her for any type of hostility, but in truth, there wasn’t. Instead, she leaned closer to you to read the words.

“Someone, I tell you, will remember us, even in another time.”

“I can’t imagine how lonely they must have felt,” she said, “not being able to show their love.”

“Yes,” you smiled sadly. “I imagine Your Grace also feels certain impediments to do so yourself, as a princess with certain duties to your realm?”

“What about you, Princess Y/N? Do you feel these impediments? Or do you act upon your desires as you please?”

You smiled, but there was an edge to it, almost like a smirk, like you were daring her to ask about last night. Rhaenyra held your gaze, despite how much she wanted to look away because of how nervous you made her.

“I find it easier to separate duty from pleasure than most people in the realm,” you said, “some people don’t have that luxury. But like a keg of wine, the more you fill it up, the more it spills.”

You grasped her hand softly, just tight enough so that if she wanted to pull away, she could have. She let her thumb brush over the back of your hand, feeling the smoothness of the skin that had been rough with somebody else the night before. Rhaenyra wished it was her.

The clanking of armor pulled her out of it, and made her retract her hand.

“The Small Council meeting is about to begin, Princess,” Ser Criston announced.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, duty awaited. But you never took your eyes of her. She excused herself anyway, and left without another word nor another glance, afraid she wouldn’t be able to leave if she did.

The hour of the owl came, yet Rhaenyra was still wide awake. A breeze crept through her chambers, caressing her skin and raised goosebumps. She sighed, wishing it was you. No matter how hard she tried, all she could see was you.

She sprung out of bed, hastily throwing on her nightrobe. Ser Criston had left an hour before, leaving her door empty, and she quietly made her way across the castle. Long gone were the days of hopeless longing, she was grown now. If she were to be Queen, she would take what she wanted.

You opened the door without hesitation, a soft smile on your face illuminated by candlelight.

“You’re still awake.”

“I was waiting for you,” you spoke softly.

Feeling bold, she pushed forwards, through the door, and you took a step back. She did it again, and you let her.

Her hand then crept along the hem of your gown, feeling the fabric before pulling it loose.

She was too nervous to meet your eyes. You, on the other hand, watched her tentatively, but made no sudden move lest you startled the princess.

Wordlessly, Rhaenyra leaned up to kiss you deeply, her eyes shut tight. She was no longer a princess, she was just a girl, infatuated with you.

“What do you want, Princess?” You asked softly, holding her waist endearingly.

“Show me what pleasure feels like.” Her breath warmed your neck as she spoke. “I want you.”

You undressed her, slowly; you wanted to savor it. But you had desired her the moment you laid eyes on her, and when her left breast peaked through her gown, you let out a low groan, and picked her up around your waist.

The Targaryen princess was all you tasted. Her mind was hazy, her chest warm, and her cheek pressed against your own bare chest.

The morning sun peaked through the window, daybreak. She had duties, she was a Princess.

Rhaenyra slipped away from your embrace, carefully so as notnto wake you, and took a piece of parchment paper on your desk and a quill to write with.

“I’ll see you again tonight,” she wrote.

The princess then slipped out the door and back to her room before Ser Criston could figure out that she was ever gone.

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x you #house of the dragon #hotd imagine

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cowgurrrl · 5 months

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Lavender Girl

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: A field trip [4.7k]

Warnings: financial stress, school fight, June once again introduces an ex, having a muse is creepy and weird, flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, June putting her art history knowledge to work

Most days, you're a good teacher. A teacher that students want to eat lunch with or inadvertently include in their silly TikToks. Most days, you're patient and kind and only have to raise your voice a handful of times, if only to be heard over the blanket volume level of teenage conversation. Today is not one of those days. "Guys!" You yell, pausing the music on your computer and turning to look at your class, obviously annoyed. "We're supposed to be talking about Picasso. I don't know why I'm hearing so much conversation about lunch." It's a lie. There was a fight between two students at lunch. It'd also been the topic of conversation in the teacher's lounge, but still.

"Miss, we already talked about Picasso!" One of your kids bemoans, and you raise your eyebrows at them.

"So, if I asked you right now, you could tell me what historical event his painting Guernica is supposed to depict?" You ask. The entire class goes silent as you wait for a response that never comes, and you sigh. "Please, do your work."

The day started with getting yet another email from another gallery, this time from down south, telling you they loved your work but not enough to showcase or buy it. Then, a text from your manager letting you know that paychecks will be late because of technical issues with the system, even though you're already beyond broke. Then, a sad text from Andie about how she's feeling homesick and misses you and wishes you could get on a plane to come see her. Then, to top it all off, an email from your ex, Henry, popped up the second you pulled into the school.

Hey, long time, no talk! I hope you're doing well. I wanted to reach out and let you know I've got an exhibition going up later next week and wanted to invite you to the opening. It's about-

You didn't read any further, anger and a wave of past emotions drowning you before you could. You and Henry were together all throughout college. You met during a freshman art class and were inseparable after that. He was tall, sensitive, and had a penchant for listening to country music when he worked, leading to many delirious nights spent crooning to Emmy-Lou Harris together. He surprised you with new paint and spontaneous trips to scenic parts of Texas to fuel your inspiration. You were happy for a long time. You even thought you'd marry him at one point. He wanted to be the next young, groundbreaking artist, making you his muse, no matter how many times you tried to assure him you were also an artist. Your work would go up in galleries and exhibitions, and everyone in your small program would gossip about the two of you. "He's so talented. It's insane," you heard one of your classmates say once. "And she's so beautiful."

The compliment dug under your skin and stayed there as your relationship failed. You didn't want to be a muse anymore. You stopped letting him paint you in various states of undress and started asking for more alone time to work on your own stuff. You went from being the perfect, polished doll he could position however he wanted and started living in your paint-stained jeans and old, ratty shirt. You started arguing more and more, first about little things like why he left his paint water cups everywhere, and then about big things like your decision to pursue teaching and the "inspiration" he found in an impressionable freshman. He suddenly moved out after graduation without a word, leaving you to nurse your wounds in a half-empty apartment for the rest of your lease, and you hadn't heard from him until this morning.

There's something more than the sting of hearing from him all these years later that bothers you. You're a high school art teacher struggling to make ends meet, and he's doing exactly what he set out to do. He's getting his work in front of his eyes and receiving praise for it. "Why do you wanna be a teacher when you can just be an artist?" He asked you one morning as you studied for your certification exams. "Or, at least, an artist's wife."

"And what if I'm not good at that?" You asked. "Then what? I'm just supposed to be your muse for the rest of my life? Have kids to fuel someone else's inspiration and have no time for my own work? Wither away while you go on to make art and give talks and become a cynic? Fuck that."

You stand by what you said, even all these years later, but there is an irony in that, even as a teacher, you don't have time to do your own work. Still, fuck that. The bell rings and signals the end of another class, and you quickly stand as students start packing up their stuff. "Okay, guys. Remember, your art history essay is due in two weeks! I'm excited to read all about everything you've learned since we started this unit. I love you, and please make good choices." You announce, hoping that at least some of them are listening to you, as they spill out of the classroom and the next students stream in. Ellie's sweet face is a welcome reprieve when she walks in.

"Hey Bellie! How's your day going, kiddo?" You ask, and she smiles. You'll swear up and down all day that you don't have favorite students, but if you did, Ellie would be one of them.

"Good. I have my signed permission slip for the art club field trip." She says. After your experience with Joel outside the bar, you couldn't sleep and knocked out all the field trip paperwork before falling asleep on your couch. But you weren't safe from his lips and broad shoulders, even in your subconscious.

"Oh, my hero! I've been meaning to remind everyone about those. Thanks for getting that in so quickly." You say as she hands the paper to you, Joel's scribbly signature at the bottom. Somehow, you're not surprised that the box indicating he wants to be a chaperone is ticked. "Perfect. Your dad knows when the field trip is?"

"Yeah. He wrote it down on his calendar and everything." She says, rolling her eyes fondly, and you laugh.

"Well, good, because I'm gonna need all the help I can get when I'm dealing with you guys."

"Hey!" She feigns offense as the bell rings, signaling the end of the passing period, and the last of your students comes running in. Ellie takes her seat near the front, and you grab your silly, colorful pointer to talk about Guernica, which is still proudly displayed on the board. After a quick art history lesson, you release them to work on the projects they've been working on for a week now. They still have a few more days before it's due, so more than half of them are slacking off quietly, which you're fine with. As long as you get a finished assignment at the end, they can do whatever they want.

You play quiet music as they work to help them focus and answer some emails. One email that catches your attention is from the parent of one of your students, Dalton, who's an amazing football player but is less than passionate about art, to say the least. You emailed his dad to let him know he was missing some assignments and could still turn them in late for only a slight penalty, but if he turns in nothing at all, you'll have no choice but to fail him. You also CC'd the football coach so he'd know the academic standing of one of his star players. Needless to say, you've been subject to a few not-so-nice emails from all parties involved.

Once you're done firing off another round of emails, you decide to step away from your computer so you don't have to see the next reply until absolutely necessary. Walking around the room to answer questions, give opinions, or just hear what's happening in students' lives always makes you feel better. In one period, you helped a handful of students put the finishing touches on their projects, heard the latest gossip, and talked one of your girls out of sending a nasty text to the boy who just broke her heart. And they say teachers aren't important.

The second you get a little bit of peace during your planning period, your phone buzzes with a notification. Given all the notifications and messages you've received today, you're hesitant to even pull it out of your pocket. But curiosity wins, and you open your phone to find a text from an unsaved number.

Is there anything I should bring to the field trip? Snacks, gum, alcohol?

You laugh to yourself and start typing a message back.

Alcohol won't be necessary, but it might be good to bring some lunch and a few snacks. I think we're gonna try to have a picnic or something at the museum.

Yes, ma'am.

You still feeling up to chaperone? Teenagers are no joke.

Do I need to remind you that I've raised two? I think I can handle a few more.

Oh, I can't wait to see this.

It can't be that hard, right?

On the day of the field trip, it turns out to be that hard. The only adults accompanying twenty teenagers to the museum are you and Joel. They're excited to be out of school and doing something new, but you can feel your migraine starting before you even get on the bus. Thankfully, the ride to the museum (and the traffic) calms them down, and they're more manageable by the time you arrive. A curator meets you outside the front doors and begins by walking your group through the outdoor sculptures, giving a little bit of history of the museum and the pieces themselves. The kids ask insightful questions and take turns snapping photos or even sketching a rough outline of the piece before moving on to the next. You stay at the front of the group while Joel manages the middle and back, silencing kids with a stern look. You fight a smile when you catch him and Ellie lingering at a sculpture, whispering to each other before he urges her forward and takes a sweet picture of her smiling in front of it.

After the initial walk of the grounds, you stop to have lunch in a sunny garden and listen to the kids gush about their favorite part so far and what paintings they're most excited to see inside.

"Miss, what's your favorite thing here?" Kayla asks.

"I like Dream Village by Chagall. If you find it before me, you'll have to let me know." You say. "Do you have a favorite?"

"Not yet. Maybe I'll find it today." Kayla says.

"I like that attitude!"

"Kissass." Jacob coughs, and you both give him a look. You can feel Joel's eyes burning a hole in the back of your head as you stare at Jacob.

"What's my policy?"

"Are you really gonna make me say it?"

"Yep." You say, and he sighs.

"You can be anything you want to be, but you're not allowed to be a dick." He mumbles.

"Exactly. So, please, be nice," you say as you fish around in your lunch box for something. "Here, have a cookie. It might help make you feel a little better." He mutters a little thanks and unwraps it, already in a better mood after one bite, and you smile.

"You just carry around cookies, waiting for a kid to be in a bad mood?" Joel asks, and you turn to look at him. He's wearing a plain blue t-shirt and jeans with sunglasses sitting atop his head, but you think it might be your favorite thing he's worn in your presence. You like it when he wears color.

"It was my cookie, but he needs it more than I do," you shrug. "Besides, things like that are a great morale booster. It's hard to be grumpy when you've got something sweet."

"I'm inclined to agree with you." He quips a little too smoothly, his eyes flicking across your face and down to your lips, and you feel your cheeks getting hot. Thankfully, all the kids have returned to their own conversations and couldn't care less about what the Adults are talking about.

"You're relentless." You whisper.

"Do you want me to stop?" He whispers back, and you sigh. If you were a stronger or better person, you might be able to think fast enough to come up with a response, but you're not. So, you just look at him and rack your brain for something to say but come up empty. "That's what I thought." He smiles and offers you his sweating Dr. Pepper can as a peace offering. You roll your eyes at his smug look but take a sip anyway.

Once everyone is done eating, you all stand and make your way into the museum lobby, the kids already chattering about what they want to see.

"Okay, you guys are free to roam but please, please, please remember that you're representing not only the school but also me. Be respectful and kind, and please don't act like you've never been in public before, okay? Go, be free." You say before the kids split off into their little groups with their obligatory activity in hand. Ellie stays near Joel, only a little shy, until Kayla turns around suddenly and waves her on.

"Ellie, c'mon!" She says. Ellie takes a few steps in her direction before turning to look back at Joel.

"Go. I'll be okay." He says.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now go. Have fun." She doesn't need any more encouragement after that and skitters off with the rest of the kids, leaving you and Joel alone in the atrium.

"She's doing really well." You tell him even though he can clearly see for himself.

"Thanks to you."

"All I did was give her a push."

"Take the credit. You deserve it." He says, his lips pulling into that award-winning smile.

You fall into silence as you walk through the different galleries, Joel never too far behind you. Sometimes, he'll start at the opposite end of the room and work his way down until you meet in the middle, making a deliberate effort to bump your shoulder or hand as he passes. Other times, he'll stay right next to you, and, for some reason, it doesn't bother you. You like being so close to him and feeling his eyes work over the piece like it's a puzzle he doesn't quite know how to work. When he can't stand the quiet anymore, he'll whisper a question to you about the artist or the history, his breathing fanning out across your neck and making the hair there stand on end.

After moving through a big part of the museum together, you and Joel end up at the same painting as the dull hum of voices fills the space between you. You smile to yourself, practically hearing him trying to find something to say as he stands there and observes how the lines of bright colors follow each other. Some are stark and almost resemble lightning in how they move around the canvas, but others are muted, blended together with careful precision and patience. It's hard to imagine what West Texas could've been like in 1953, but this makes it a little easier.

"What's this one supposed to mean?" Joel mumbles, leaning ever so conspicuously into you.

"I can't tell you." You mumble back, and he finally turns to look at you head-on. You meet his eyes with an amused smile, and he shakes his head at you.

"You're really not gonna tell me?"

"I can't tell you what art is supposed to mean to you. I can't tell anyone that."

"But, you're a teacher."

"If you're asking me for an art history lesson, I'd be happy to help, but that's about all I can do for you."

"'S cruel and unusual punishment."

"If art and culture are cruel and unusual punishment, why'd you sign up to chaperone?"

"Maybe I wanted to see my friend," he says, bumping you with his shoulder, and you laugh a little too hard. "What? We can't be friends? Is there a school policy against that, too?"

"Nope, no school policy. I just," You pause and revel in how enraptured he looks at every movement, pause, and breath you take. "I already have friends, so..."

"Oh, and you're 'fraid of bein' too popular?"

"Famously." You say, and he chuckles next to you. You go back to staring at the painting quietly with him so close you can feel his body heat. You're the one to break this time, knocking him with your shoulder to get his attention again. You didn't need to. When you glance at him, you see his focus is on you, not the painting. "It's Texas. Canyon, to be more precise. Up by Amarillo where there's nothing but cattle and desert. O'Keeffe taught out there for a few years and wanted to paint something that showed how big the West is. It's supposed to make you feel like you're two feet tall and seeing the sky for the first time. For her, it might've been the first time in a long time she'd gotten to see a sunset that big. So, she painted it so other people could enjoy sunsets like that. It's like a love letter."

"How d'you do that?" He asks once you're finished explaining, and you furrow your eyebrows.

"Do what?"

"Make little things seem so beautiful." He answers easily, like you asked him what color the sky is. You don't know what to say. What are you supposed to say to something like that?

"'S just what art does." You shrug and break away from his gaze to look at the painting, if only to not feel him staring into your soul.

"No, it's what you do to it. 'S why those kids love you so damn much. You make everythin' feel like a masterpiece, even the little things." He's not flirting. He's not trying to persuade you to do one thing over another. He's genuine and heartfelt. You swear you would start crying if you had a little less sleep. You take a deep breath and lean into him for half a second, just enough to feel his body against yours, before standing upright again.

"Thank you."

"It's what friends are for," he says, leaning into you in return. "I should make sure they haven't seized the museum or anythin'."

"Oh, I can do it. You're a guest."

"And you work too hard," he stops you. "Take a break and enjoy what you love. The world won't end if you take some time for yourself." If ever there were awards to be given out for sweet talking, you think Joel Miller would win all of them.

"Okay," you say, and he walks behind you to move on to the next section. "You really wanna be my friend?" You ask before he can fully pass behind you, looking at him over your shoulder. He smiles devastatingly, light sparkling in his eyes, and nods.

"I really wanna be your friend." He says softly, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. He lingers for a second or two before finally making his way to the group of students, leaving you to scrutinize the painting you've been staring at for God knows how long.

The day crawls to an uneventful close, with you forcing all the students to take a picture in front of the museum for the yearbook. Joel takes your phone out of your hand and all but pushes you in the photo, and your students lovingly welcome you into their little group. In exchange, you grab Joel's phone and take cute pictures of him and Ellie for their own memories. They smile almost identically, and Ellie makes a fake annoyed face when Joel kisses her temple. Your fingers brush against each other when you hand it back, and for a second, you can feel the callouses from his job. It feels like unlocking a new piece of him or a new quirk.

Too bad this isn't a date. Too bad nothing can ever come of this. Too bad you had to meet this way. Too bad. Too bad.

The ride home is quiet and full of the clinking of backpacks and new souvenirs. When you get to the school, parents are waiting in the parking lot with fast food dinners and excited ears to hear all about their days. Almost everyone immediately slinks home, tired and happy, before you can even get close to the school doors. Almost everyone. Joel and Ellie help you carry your backpack and some things you bought for teaching purposes at the museum into your classroom. The school is virtually deserted, and you return to your room to find all the lamps flipped off and mostly positive notes from the sub.

"Dad, what are we gonna do for dinner?" Ellie groans as you sit in your chair and open your email quickly before you can pack up the rest of your stuff. Their dinner debate becomes background noise as you find your inbox full of annoyed messages from Dalton's parents, coaches, and even Principal Martinez regarding his grades. Under all that vitriol sits Henry's half-read message about his gallery opening, and you feel the perfect bubble of your day burst around you. Joel and Ellie seem to realize it because they're both quiet when you tune back into their conversation, and you turn in your chair to look at them.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks, and you snap out of it, putting on your best teacher everything-is-fine face.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just some emails. It's not important." You wave her off, but Joel isn't so easily convinced. He thinks for a second before pulling his keys out of his pocket and handing them to Ellie.

"Go get some practice driving." He says, jerking his head toward the door, and Ellie's eyes light up.

"Really?!"

"Just bring the car to the front, and don't hit anything!" He says, but she's already taken off with the keys and her stuff in an excited whirlwind. You laugh at her enthusiasm, and Joel leans against one of the desks near you, crossing his arms in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Your whole face fell when you opened that computer."

"It's nothing."

"If we're gonna be friends, you're gonna have to tell me if somethin's wrong otherwise I can't help you." He says, and you fight a smile.

"I don't know how you're gonna help me with this one." You say. He bumps your foot with his and gives you a pleading look. Big brown eyes on men like him should be illegal, you think.

"Talk to me." He begs quietly, and you take a deep breath.

"When I was in college, I dated this guy. He was an artist, too, and we were like the little power couple of our program. Things ended kinda badly and abruptly, and I hadn't heard from him since graduation until last week when he invited me to his gallery opening. I really don't want to go alone because, honestly, I haven't been able to get anything showcased in years, and I'm embarrassed. Plus, he broke my heart and made me feel like shit for a few years." You can't stop the words from falling from you once the dam is broken, but Joel doesn't flinch.

"Well, you've got friends to go with, right?"

"I do," you say. "But I want to invite you."

"Oh." He says, seemingly unintentionally.

"Oh." You repeat. "You can say no. I just thought... since we're friends and all now."

"I just... I don't..." he struggles before finally giving in to what he wants to say, what you think he's wanted to say all day. "I don't think I'm smart enough to go to somethin' like that. I don't know anythin' about art. I don't even know how to dress for those kinda things."

"Nobody knows anything about art. Not really, at least. Especially not Henry."

"You do."

"Then I'll stick with you all night and feed you lines about composition or some shit," you say. "And you just wear a nice shirt and some slacks. Maybe a suit jacket if you're feeling snazzy. It's really not as big a deal as people make it seem. We'll go, drink wine, say something about the colors, play nice, and then we'll leave. I'll have you home by 9:30. Earlier if you really hate it that much." He rolls his neck like he's rattling something around in his head or thinking about your offer, and all you can do is watch him and the way his Adam's apple pressing against the delicate skin of his throat. You're convinced he's gonna say no.

"Are you asking me on a date?" He finally asks, and you laugh.

"Not a date."

"Sounds like a date. You even promised to have me home to my girl at a reasonable time."

"Fine, it's a friend date."

"A friend date?" He raises his eyebrows at you, and you nod.

"It's perfectly normal to go on friend dates, Miller. You're just behind on the times."

"Seems like I am. Maybe you can bring me up to speed during the gallery opening?" He says, and your shoulders drop in relief. "I'll pick you up if you agree to help me not look like an idiot."

"You won't look like an idiot."

"Not with you there, I won't." He says, and you want to laugh, but you also want to tear up a little at his kindness. It's been a long week.

"Thank you, Joel. Really. I owe you." You say, and he nods.

"'S my pleasure," he says. For a minute, you two just stare at each other in your empty classroom like teenagers with an obvious crush. You think that's what you feel like. You think that's all you'll ever be able to feel for him. "I should go. I've got an impatient teenager waitin' for me."

"Yeah. Go get her some dinner, and I'll text you the details." You say as you stand to walk him out. He stands to his full height, opens his arms, and approaches you. You didn't think you were hugging territory, but as his arms wrapped around you, you couldn't help but hug him back.

"Goodnight." He says into your hair, lingering for another moment before disappearing as fast as he appeared.

"Goodnight," you say. With that, he starts walking to the open door with a smile stuck to his face. "Hey, Joel," you call before he can step over the threshold, and he turns around to look at you. "Art is for everyone, and even if it wasn't, you're more than smart enough to enjoy it."

"Yes, ma'am." He says with a half-salute and a wink before stepping out of your classroom. You let yourself rest against your desk and take a deep breath. Finally, you let yourself pull out your phone and read the rest of Henry's email detailing the time and place of the gallery.

I hope you can come. It would really mean a lot to me. I miss talking to you and even though things ended the way they did, I still love you.

See you soon,

Henry Hall

"Fuck that."

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