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#for profound and sophisticated reasons.
intricate-ritualz · 1 year
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marciabrady · 1 year
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here are some sleeping beauty plot points/general details that i love and i would love to see more discussion around
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the story team did such an incredible job with fleshing out aurora while still making her feel true to the mythos from which she was derived. in every novelization i've ever read that predates the disney film, she's only ever given one line of dialogue (something like: "what is that thing that spins so merrily?") before falling asleep. disney took that same princess and successfully expanded her into a living, breathing dynamic human who is filled with everything- ethos, pathos, everything, but is also authentic to her origins. they also did a genius job at creating a basis for why love is so revered in this tale. true love conquers all, we're told, and it's indeed what keeps aurora safe from maleficent for all these years, as it's the one thing the evil fairy can't understand. yet, the fact that the princess grew up surrounded by the love from the three fairies, which instills that care in her heart, along with the fact that she grows up in isolation, so connected to the universe around her and allowing her to be introspective enough to observe the animals about her and draw a connection to the human condition and that of the consistencies of nature is so...deep and profound and develops her and makes her an evergreen character that will always represent people, for as long as we're around, because aurora's struggle is one that speaks to everyone. she isn't just some "lovesick princess" but a character that's growing up and longs to be able to find her soul's mate and to express the love in her heart in a universe where she was socially excluded and deprived of others outside of her three guardians. as humans are tribal creatures, social inclusion is one of the main pillars of wellbeing. so to take aurora, who is already an innately romantic person, and to deprive her of that just gives all the more reason why the kiss of true love really would revive her. she isn't just some princess who grows to be fifteen or sixteen, pricks her finger, and then is awakened by a prince she never meets. she is someone who was raised in love, grows up and wants to become a woman and share that love and express it with someone else. when she finds it, it's suddenly stripped from her and she's induced into a magic slumber that's meant to symbolize her transformation from girl to woman. then, she's awakened by the same love she'd thought she lost and it's just...the structure of it is genius and incredible and they retain all of the qualities about her in the fairytale and storytelling devices but they develop it so much further and round her out so well but still maintain a reverence to her source material instead of condemning it or outright changing it and i just LOVE
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i don't think enough people realized that, it wasn't until maleficent visited prince phillip in the dungeon and showed him the vision of aurora in slumber repose that he knew that aurora and briar rose were one in the same!!! like this is the moment it all clicked for him and it gave him the drive and determination to slay the dragon in her honor. he realized the woman he loved and the princess he had been betrothed to were both one and that's so important and it's just such a plot twist that, again, was so genius of the writers. it proves to us that he loves her enough to leave the kingdom for her and risk damning the princess he had been betrothed to to the curse she was under and he'd take her as she is, even if it were a peasant, but also that his love is so steadfast and true that he'd defeat a dragon for her. 10/10 and it sooo runs along the vein of the lyric "visions are seldom all they seem." this is a plot twist done RIGHT but with so much sophistication that it tends to fly under most everyone's radar because it isn't like loud
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something i love about the original princess movies is how the female characters are forever in the forefront, and the fact that this film opens with the celebration of the birth of a female child is something that's so special! instead of having to think about how female children weren't celebrated in that time, or it was a disappointment she hadn't been a son, or something of the like, the fact that the spotlight is on their daughter and the opening of the film continues this matriarchy, where all in the land praise this female birth, before the fairies are introduced as their most "honored and exalted excellencies." we need to see more worlds like this instead of pixar films where there's like not a single main female character lol
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THE FACT THAT PHILLIP WAS WILLING TO GIVE UP THE THRONE AND THE KINGDOM "for some nobody" and told his dad flat out to his face without hesitating makes me love him soooo much?? he loves aurora for who she is, not just because she was a princess to whom he had been betrothed to his entire life, and this proves how genuine his love is. it also paints how progressive and open-minded phillip was, seeming to be the first that would ever break the tradition of princes marrying princesses and opening up his country for a new type of culture and reign. love me a freak like that
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one of the biggest facets to aurora's character, and something that further develops her relationship to phillip, is how differently she reacts to her guardians when told of the betrothal. where phillip already knows, and is aware of the king and queen and how his duty is to marry their princess daughter, aurora is just finding out that she has living parents for the first time and the future of a nation rests on her shoulders. she discovers she's to be married to a prince and must give up her true love forever. again, before i hear anything about "she just met this man for two minutes in the woods, why is she crying," this is a fairytale with magic that's meant to be archetypical. in the narrative of the film, and in the universe of this world, phillip is her true love- and this is confirmed when it is his kiss that awakens her from the curse. so to leave the one true love who was meant for you, when that's all you ever wanted in the isolation you were raised in, to accept your duty and responsibility over parents you didn't even know you had and to assume the obligations of a nation you aren't even prepared for...it's astounding. aurora does everything right, she even leaves love behind for the good of her people and puts everyone above her own personal desires, and yet people still criticize her and say she's dependent on a man and all she cares about is love. meanwhile, phillip never receives any hate, and he's literally willing to give up the throne and the kingdom and start a war between two countries for the girl "he just met in the woods for two minutes" but he's one of the most beloved princes...it really just makes me think about how misogynistic our society still is, without even realizing it. aurora literally couldn't have done anything better, by our modern standards, but people still condemn her just because? this is definitely a discussion piece i want to hear more about and, in general, i think it would behoof us all to understand why aurora has been so demeaned culturally as a character when her actions, in and of themselves, are exactly what we say we want and would appeal to modern sensibilities
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this is a slight sidenote but i always was tickled by merryweather proclaiming, if she had it her way, maleficent would be turned into a "fat old hop-toad." i always felt like this was a nod to the original tale from which this movie was based on, where a magical frog tells the queen that her wish to be with child shall soon be granted and that it, just generally, was a very clever easter egg/allusion
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in this film, they have enough action and movement to appease the more restless demographic/traditionally "masculine" crowd, but i love how the basis of maleficent's defeat lies still in the femininity of the three good fairies. it's these elderly women that save phillip from the dungeon and arm him, not just with weapons that will kill another being and are predicated upon violence, but with symbolic weapons that are laced with truth and virtue. i think it really reminds us all how transformative these values are and how, in arming ourselves with them, we'll alone be able to navigate the road to true love (whether that be familial, platonic, or romantic love) which will be "barred by many more dangers" and how it enables us to have a sense of autonomy where we'll be able to overcome anything that's thrown our way while still retaining the core of who we are
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i wrote about this moment previously, but to piggyback off of what i wrote about phillip just above...i love how aurora is the most competent human in this world? much has been said about how the plot of sleeping beauty is essentially the fairy worlds dueling with one another and, in that, many of the mortals are somewhat...inept, to put it for lack of a better term. king stefan is unable to protect his daughter with the burning of the spinning wheels, even with all the power he harnesses within his kingdom, and the fairies are quick to see his folly. prince phillip would still be rotting in the prison had the fairies not interjected, and he would be burned to a crisp had they not sprung a final chant of magic upon his, already, enchanted sword. yet, maleficent has to hypnotize aurora for the princess to even succumb to her plan and, even then, aurora is temporarily able to snap out of the magic hypnosis she's put under. i don't think people realize how powerful that is? yes, i understand it's a minor moment, but the hesitation and the ability to counter magic while remaining totally unarmed is something that reminds me why aurora is our main character, despite what anyone else might say.
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going along with what i said above, while many are quick to point out aurora's lack of screentime, the film begins with her birth, the plot is sprung forth with every character wondering what they could do to protect her, then when she pricks her finger upon the spinning wheel, she and the entire kingdom are put to sleep. it isn't until she wakes up, that the entire kingdom does, too. she holds the key to this entire universe in a persephone like way and i just love how important it is in the narrative of the film to wake her up. she isn't just this beautiful creature who's valuable because she's pretty, because if that was the case, her being a lovely figure posed to perfection in her slumbering mode would be enough...but the people of her universe value her so much more when she's alive and active and being her own person, that it ensues a fairy war, practically. she's also involved in every single plot, even if she isn't physically present. this is her movie and no one can take that away from her. but, just to restate, the fact that there's so much emphasis in aurora being alive and well is something that's so important
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so, it's kind of a given at this point that every princess can sing, but i think the role that music plays in sleeping beauty is the most meaningful and well done? sleeping beauty makes much to do about its classical score and it skillfully combines realistic characters and storylines (like the fairies not knowing how to cook and clean, phillip being captured with no way out, the kings toasting to the impending nuptials of their offspring before getting into a quarrel centered around a misunderstanding) with the fantastical world of fantasy and opera. by giving aurora the gift of song, the narrative is creating a framework that explains her relationship to her singing voice in a way that's even more profound than that of ariel's connection with her singing. it explains why aurora sings more than she speaks and ties in perfectly with the thematic style of the operatic presence in sleeping beauty, which is that in the opera, instead of speaking about it, you sing.
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OK but this scene of hubert's/his general plotline and character motivation that results from this is genuinely perhaps the best comedy disney's ever done? hubert is coming off of declaring war upon his best friend stefan, because he misunderstood stefan's caring for his own daughter as a snub against hubert's son. after challenging aurora's father to a duel, they quickly make up, before hubert hears phillip has arrived and rushes off to greet his son. there, the news is broken that phillip is actually in love with a peasant and that he plans to renounce the throne- which will actually cause a war- so that he can be with his beloved. hubert is convinced phillip is joking, especially as he happens to meet this mystery maiden on the date that aurora is set to come home- the most anticipated date for these past sixteen years in the kingdom- and his son is set to be a central figure in the celebration for the princess's homecoming! before he can reason with phillip, his son escapes, leaving hubert to be the one to break the news to stefan. heavy-hearted, as hubert tries to tell stefan, he keeps being interrupted by trumpets and the musical notes that are meant to accompany the princess in her debut to her country. then the fairies literally put hubert to sleep when he finally gets a chance to explain it to stefan and, when they're awoken from this fog like slumber, the first vision that greets hubert is that of his son and the princess??? the same son who said he had no interest in aurora, but was set to marry the peasant maiden. the whole thing concludes in a very charming "all's well that ends well" but i still think the whole "how am i ever going to tell stefan" dilemma, while continually being interrupted, and this king who declared war in 2 seconds flat and minced no words in being so short-tempered was suddenly at a loss for words and so hesitant and fumbling and nervous about this news his son sprung on him lol
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one of the most haunting sequences in film is the one above. the three good fairies have endeared themselves to their mortal charge, even giving up their magic for her for sixteen years. their bond is so much deeper and meaningful than it would've been otherwise, as they probably would've blessed her at the christening and then only appeared in her life intermittently, at a distance. they clearly aren't close enough to humans to know too much about their customs, and their magic always gives them away as outsiders, which indicates they were always content to live in their own fairy-world. but then they give it all up for this baby, this child, and they change their entire world for her. she is their world, to the point where their sole purpose is protecting her, until that's all they can think about for close to two decades. they would do anything they could to make her happy, to give her a fighting chance at life. they're so protective over her- and the fact that they got this close to the finish line...only to leave her alone because they want to be respectful of giving her privacy as she's still reeling and processing from all the news they sprung about her at once. they were even discussing going to king stefan and attempting to convince him to let aurora out of the arranged marriage so that she could be with the boy in the woods. and this all leads to maleficent enchanting aurora to her demise. as the fairies place her in a bed for the last time, looking upon her in her princess form, all of the time they've spent with her runs through their mind. how this isn't their little briar rose anymore, but a princess who inhabits, not the woodcutter's cottage, but king stefan's castle. someone who will never be with them the way she once was ever again and who, presently, is dead for all they know. as they look upon their lost daughter, the faint chimes and musical notes of the celebration of her homecoming is heard in the distance. i could talk about this forever but it's just such a heartbreaking and sad but also eerie mood
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in 2023, it's time king stefan gets his flowers. while, in the time period in which this film is set, it'd be totally realistic for a father to set his daughter up in an arranged marriage to further the prospects of his land, stefan displays an understanding that seems more contemporary than his counterpart, hubert. hubert doesn't think about prince phillip's feelings for a beat and concedes that the "children" are bound to fall in love with one another. meanwhile, stefan seems to display a much more well-rounded paternal instinct, even exemplifying a degree of care and concern for both aurora's emotional wellbeing and her consent. he urges hubert to calm down and remember that this might come as "quite a shock" to aurora and to not push all of these political arrangements upon his daughter before she's had a chance to react to them and digest them.
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the duality of briar rose and princess aurora is so fascinating, but also the moments in which they overlap is more enchanting still. this is a fairytale that is meant to be archetypical, and aurora's enchanted slumber is meant to be symbolic for her transition from girlhood to womanhood. briar rose, the girl, is anxious about her future, the prospect of meeting her love and settling down and getting to the next stage of her life. she loves her guardians, but is frustrated at their inability to see and treat her as anything other than a child. she goes to sleep a scared, shy, unsure teenager and wakes up as a self-assured, mature, gracious woman- the princess aurora. she's a vision, descending the staircase on the arm of her beloved, and she paints quite the picture as she gracefully curtsies to her parents, the king and queen. yet, true to the girl from the cottage, briar rose takes over. unable to contain the love she feels, she bolts forward and rushes to embraced her lost parents. i love this because, for as calm as a character as aurora is, i've always been so mesmerized by the breathless excitement with which she speaks when she returns to the cottage. this is a girl that has more love inside her than she can contain and it renders her a beacon of light. her running into the arms of her parents, instead of resenting them for giving her up, putting her in an arranged marriage, or even pausing to question whether or not she should be so warm with these figureheads of state, is such a tender moment that i don't think i've ever heard anyone speak of.
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i will never get tired of singing the praises of the three good fairies. this film placed three older, conventionally unattractive women at the forefront- without pushing forced hetero ships on any of them- and allowed them to be bad ass (ie saving phillip from the dungeon, providing him with the tools and guidance with which to defeat maleficent, coming up with all the plots and actions that propelled the plot forward), while reminding us that love and kindness is truly the most powerful force on earth and placing an emphasis on the strength and power of femininity. the entire transition, from them being business women in the kingdom essentially (this is more in modern jargon; them being the fairies who are invited to political organizations for their contributions and not knowing anything about things like cooking or cleaning or rearing a child) to learning how to raise a baby and the film ending with them beaming over the shining achievement of their assigned charge finally being safe and happy is...it's everything. how beautifully the film focuses on them and the relationship with their adopted daughter and how that's the driving goal in all of this is something that's been unable to ever be surpassed
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thesoapgirl · 8 months
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teddy
I named him “Teddy” because it felt right and I think I was 7 or so and I wasn’t very original. If I could go back, I would give him a cute name like Honeydew or Maple, but no, I went with Teddy because he felt like the quintessential “teddy bear.” Just, brown. Brown bead eyes, and a brown bow at his neck. I liked him because he was simple and he felt right. He didn’t feel like all of the other cheap stuffed animals I had gotten so far in life. I loved the satin feel of his paws, through which, I could feel the small beads that gave his hands and feet more weight than other stuffed toys. He was balanced, evenly stuffed, proportioned just right, and perfect in my eyes. I can’t tell you what else I got that Christmas morning or who even gifted him to me, but I can perfectly remember unwrapping him and holding him up, my living room light a backdrop for what I believed to be the most perfect stuffed bear. 
Later, I would tell people that I named him after the 26th president of the United States, Theodore Roosevelt, to make the naming seem more profound, like I had taken the time to actually think about the name. I wanted to show off my genius, how I knew the trivial fact of the origin of the name of “Teddy’s Bear.” When I was younger, I felt the need to prove myself, to show everyone how smart I was. But, really, I named him “Teddy” because that is what he looked like. He looked like the perfect teddy bear. 
Later, I would come to terms with the fact that not everything has to be perfect or profound or extraordinarily significant, and naming a stuffed brown bear with brown eyes and a brown bow, “Teddy” is perfectly okay and fine. Not everything has to have meaning. Not everything has to be special and unique. He is just a stuffed brown bear that I named Teddy because I was young and I had object recognition.
He has followed me my entire life. He has lived in many different places; in my bed when I was young and found comfort in safe and warm things that I could hug and talk to. He’s lived in closets when I was old enough to be embarrassed of the things I loved, and in boxes when it was time to move. He spent a whole year in a classroom, near my teaching desk, and now he spends time on my bookshelf or my couch or my desk because sometimes I like to pick him up for a second and put him down somewhere else.  
I have picked him up once again, just now, and I am looking at him more closely, 22 years later. He is still the perfect brown, although a little faded, with brown bead eyes, and a brown bow at his neck, the ends of which I have tucked into the main loop to hide the fact that I chewed on them when I was younger. It gives him a more sophisticated look; he has a bowtie now instead of a bow. We’ve both grown up. He seems lighter now, though, more fragile. 
For some reason, the texture of his fur is different, it has spread in some places, and faded in others, and for some reason the fur around his face now covers most of his brown eyes, making them seem closed. He looks tired, and I empathize with that. Me too, Teddy. I sniff him, and he smells like all things that live in closets and corners and boxes in the dark do. The satin on his paws has started to wear away, the fabric is thinning out, and for the first time, I look at the tag on his bottom, half of which seems to have fallen off as time has passed.
 Here is what I can tell you: the manufacturer is a company called KELLYTOY, located in Los Angeles. His stuffing is polyester and the little beads in his hands and feet are actually plastic pellets, and he was made in China. I can’t tell you what year he was made. I tried googling different combinations of “KELLYTOY” and “brown bear” and “2002,” but I didn’t find him, my Teddy, and that makes him feel more special somehow.
And, now, as I am holding him again, my chest tightens. We’ve both survived this long. He’s a little matted and faded, and well, so am I. I am looking at him again, and I am reminded of the magic I have always believed in. The magic that lives in between the letters of words. The magic that lives in the spaces between pages and kissing lips and deep breaths. The same magic that allows me to convince myself that this stuffed brown bear with brown eyes and a brown bowtie is proud of me. That he’s watched me this entire time, from the boxes and the shelves and couches and desks and he is glad that I am still here.
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fipindustries · 3 months
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At some point we started thinking that ambiguity was the cat's pajamas - or is it pyjamas? That's the type of rich, narrative gravy we're given. Is good even, like, possible man?!?!?!?! Is Maleficent, the Mistress of All Evil whose crow is essentially named Satan, just misunderstood? Does the lady who wants to kill all those dogs in 101 Dalmatians have some deeper, trauma-related reason for wanting to kill and wear all those dogs? Nuance can act as a proxy for sophistication, but it's not automatic. Explicit moral themes aren't automatically facile and nuance in presentation isn't necessarily profound.
Anyway, it's fiction. It's okay to pretend in fiction.  I think that's a big part of it.
tycho brahe - penny arcade
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metvmorqhoses · 5 months
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Nononono waitttt what do you mean about Good Omens season 2?? Why didn't you like it?
I personally thought it was better than season 1 - better paced. There wasn't a single boring moment. And sure, the plot maybe had fewer stakes, but seeing as this was a bridge season between season 1 (the of Good Omens book) and hopefully season 3 (the book that never came out, “668” or something like that), I thought it was good. Warm & fuzzy.
I need to know your opinion now
As abashed as I am to have to respond to such enthusiasm with, well... the very opposite of enthusiasm, please at least know that I consider the truth the best thing I have to offer in general and in regard to that unfortunate (yet somehow still-untouchable?) mess the second season of Good Omens has proven itself to be in particular, so accept it as some sort of well-intended even if perhaps unwanted gift.
This is probably the most unpopular opinion one can have on Tumblr right now, so I'll go straight to the point: Gaiman managed to ruin Good Omens (perhaps he isn't able to write it by himself, perhaps he got carried away with fan service, who knows), once one of the most delightful, witty, engaging, profound books/shows existent, changing its register and raison d'être in order to turn it into, per great popular request, the same lame simple plotless cheesy cookie-cutter gay romance without rime and reason apparently every single piece of media is deforming itself into lately.
The dramatic loss of... artistic quality this show suffered is appalling and even more appalling is the fact I seem to be one of the very few on this green earth to have even noticed? Did I perhaps read too much in the show before? I don't think so, it was indeed a masterpiece. I saw many die-hard fans of the series beyond puzzled at this last season too, straining themselves to try and make sense of it with wild theories, justifying them with the simple fact that Neil Gaiman is a genius and surely this hot mess must mean something, right? I wasn't aware the world was mostly populated by hysterically besotted people hailing Neil Gaiman's alleged greatness from dawn til dusk without contextualized merit, and the discovery didn't particularly excite me, to be quite honest. I think a healthy amount of fairness in the critique of any artist should always be the norm, but I digress.
I'll try to keep it as brief and matter-of-factly as possible, especially since some time has passed and the fumes of my rage aren't as scorching or as precise as they used to be lol
In a word, this season was subpar. Not only did it lack that original witty, ineffable meaningfulness, that intrinsic and very human sense of wonder and protectiveness towards life and its profound sense the original show brimmed with, but even from the most basic literary point of view, it literally lacked a plot worthy of this name, a story, characters that felt complex and real instead of caricatures who tried and reenact themselves, and in general what should have been, quite simply, good writing.
More than Good Omens' long-awaited season 2, this felt more like a high-budget filler fanfiction created by someone who didn't know what they were doing with story and characters most of the time, but who sure as hell wanted to please the audience to disastrous lengths.
The very first thing that irked me beyond belief, and it literally started from minute one, was the immediate, more or less subtle, change in acting from both Michael and David. Michael stressed it way more, with, in my opinion, quite tragic results, thing that from the start immediately allowed me to guess where they were going with their (already established as extremely complex) relationship, entirely turning the vibe from sophisticated allegory of Divine Comedy kind of love (love for your enemy, love for your friend, love in all its form and in its entirety) to banal romantic comedy-level gay drama, downgrading what Crowley and Aziraphale shared (the subtle abysses of it!) into the most boring and obvious of soap operas, obviously forcing them to act out of character in order to compensate (was any flash-back meaningful to their character or the story? Was there a writing reason behind any of them beyond writing for the sake of filling screen-time?).
Some relationships deserve to be left alone, alone in their subtlety and ambiguousness or you'll inevitably ruin them. Not everyone must kiss on screen, no matter how much the audience screams and throws up for it. This little woke drama completely ruined and eclipsed everything else those two characters were for each other, turning them from cosmic and devastatingly loyal best friends to petty and dumb lovers that need two plot devices (the messy pointless and quite frankly offensive representation-wise lesbians from across the street they literally met five minutes prior) to tell them they actually have feeling for each other and should share them. After literal millennia of this relationship, relationship that has its own inner workings and reasons, we needed the plot-lesbians to subvert the order of things and spur Crowley into action, obviously obtaining disastrous and lame results? Are we witnessing the interaction of immortal beings or five-year-olds? The only way I can genuinely make sense of this dumbness is considering those two female "characters" (that feel anything but real people) no more than that, characters, golems, put there by Metatron via the power of the Book of Life (again, so many Chekhov's guns with no use whatsoever in this season) in order to separate Az and Crowley using the only thing that could succeed in doing it - an ill placed declaration of love.
But even this doesn't match the true être of what Good Omens originally was nor comes full circle with the ineffable mystery season 1 ended with. It genuinely feels like Gaiman changed the whole rhyme and reason of the story, vibes, meaning, register, just to meet the modern needs of a category that is sadly phagocytizes everything else in both life and fiction. And I find it a true pity - and a bore.
And even leaving aside this personal boredom of mine at a non-existent plot that consisted in 1) a big mystery that promised cosmic repercussions (season 1 ended with the after-nonapocalyptic world that was slightly changed just because two enemies had loved each other and life too much not to oppose god's plan - fact that was probably god's plan all along), mystery that was actually no mystery at all (two random, from the original story's perspective, previous minor characters in literally ten supernatural minutes fell in love and run away together) and that meant virtually nothing in the grand scheme of things, but serving as a plot device so that the other two minor new characters could intrude into the protagonists' relationship so they could finally have the excuse to jump literary genre and kiss & queer tragedy the story away 2) an endless series of symbols, facts, episodes and characters that constantly seemed to hint at something but that in reality resulted in nothing story-wise (also, the change of heart in God's personality, first the witty and almighty trickster for the greater good, now the divine bully??), even leaving all this aside, I'm mostly disappointed the quality of the writing plummeted so inesorabily one of my comfort show turned into the symbol of an artistic era I'm utterly distraught to have to witness - the era of crowd-pleasers and un-imagination.
As for this being a filler season, writing in such an unresolved way (basic and predictable plot, colourless characters, cliché romance, hours of happenings that don't mean a thing in the current story) is unacceptable and a failure, even if you are a famous writer. You cannot waste hours of the audience's time going nowhere shielded by the sole future promise of sense. Writing doesn't work that way, and I'm sincerely appalled to see people noticing it and deciding to excuse it with a "surely next season everything will look genius!". It doesn't work this way. The faults were too many, they can't possibly be all resolved next season. This product wasn't great, even if your faves kissed and your little fanfictions came true.
The sad thing is, Good Omens used to be a work of art, not the next consumeristic piece of fiction to satisfy woke needs.
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bambamramfan · 3 months
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At some point we started thinking that ambiguity was the cat's pajamas - or is it pyjamas? That's the type of rich, narrative gravy we're given. Is good even, like, possible man?!?!?!?! Is Maleficent, the Mistress of All Evil whose crow is essentially named Satan, just misunderstood? Does the lady who wants to kill all those dogs in 101 Dalmatians have some deeper, trauma-related reason for wanting to kill and wear all those dogs? Nuance can act as a proxy for sophistication, but it's not automatic. Explicit moral themes aren't automatically facile and nuance in presentation isn't necessarily profound.
Tycho from PA
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candycandycandysworld · 7 months
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Serendipity Part 1
A Diluc Ragnivindr x Reader Modern High School Au Oneshot
At Female of Birth Reader
Trigger warnings: None
In the vibrant hallways of Teyvat High School, where laughter and conversations intertwined, you found yourself in a situation that you couldn’t quite decipher. You’d been spending time with Diluc, the enigmatic and sophisticated senior who had caught your attention from day one. Your interactions were filled with shared smiles, deep conversations, and moments that seemed to linger in the air.
One afternoon, as the sun cast a warm glow over the courtyard, you found yourself sitting on a bench with Diluc. The two of you were engrossed in a conversation that meandered from trivial topics to profound musings. The ease with which you connected was undeniable, but something nagged at the back of your mind.
"So, are we like... a thing?" you asked hesitantly, your voice revealing the uncertainty that had been bothering you.
Diluc's gaze turned thoughtful, his deep crimson eyes meeting yours. "A 'thing'?" he repeated, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Yeah," you continued, feeling a touch of awkwardness. "I mean, we hang out a lot, and it's fun, but I don't know if we're, you know, official."
Diluc's smile grew warmer, and he reached out to gently take your hand. "I believe our connection goes beyond being a mere 'thing'," he said softly, his words carrying an intensity that made your heart flutter. "Destiny has a way of weaving its threads, and I believe ours have intertwined for a reason."
You blinked in surprise, your heart racing at his words. Destiny? It was a concept that felt both beautiful and intimidating, especially when spoken by someone as enigmatic as Diluc.
"I've always felt a deep connection with you," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "It's as if we were meant to cross paths, meant to share moments that go beyond the ordinary."
As he spoke, a mixture of emotions swirled within you—awe, disbelief, and a dawning realization. Could it be that what you thought was a casual fling held a deeper significance for Diluc?
Diluc's fingers tightened gently around yours, his touch comforting and reassuring. "I'm not asking for a label, if that's what worries you," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "But I want you to know that what we have is special. It's a connection that transcends the confines of a high school relationship."
Your heart swelled at his words, the uncertainty that had been plaguing you dissipating like mist in the morning sun. With a shy smile, you leaned closer to him, your fingers entwining with his.
"Maybe destiny brought us together," you admitted, feeling a newfound sense of clarity. "And I'm more than okay with that."
Diluc's smile was radiant, his crimson gaze filled with an intensity that seemed to reflect the stars themselves. "I believe in destiny," he said, his voice a gentle affirmation. "And I believe in us."
As the sun continued to cast its golden embrace, you sat side by side with Diluc, your hands intertwined and your hearts aligned. In the realm of high school, where emotions ran deep and connections blossomed like the most delicate of flowers, your journey had taken a turn, guided by the threads of destiny that bound you to one another.
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shvdowspirit · 8 months
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Introducing Peter Baek . . . Pitch Black from Rise of the Guardians
GENERAL
full name: peter baek. true name redacted.
aliases: pitch black, the boogeyman, the nightmare king.
nicknames: just don't call him 'pete'.
age: immortal / appears forty-three.
gender: cis male.
species: spirit.
orientation: pansexual, demiromantic.
date of birth: ??? he tells people it's november first.
place of birth: ??? the void.
occupation:  behavioral therapist.
PHYSIQUE
faceclaim:  gong yoo.
eye color:  dark brown, gold when performing stronger magic.
hair color:  black.
height:  6'4"
ABILITIES
fear manipulation: click to learn more.
nightmare manipulation: click to learn more.
shadow + darkness manipulation: click to learn more.
FAMILY
significant other(s): auralia pitchiner † (wife).
children: emily jane pitchiner (daughter).
MUSE INSPIRATION
aleksander morozova / the darkling — shadow and bone.
morpheus / dream of the endless — the sandman.
sebastian michaelis — kuroshitsuji.
yunsu park — olgami.
silco — arcane.
dracula — castlevania.
CHARACTERIZATION
This isn't someone you hope to run into, and certainly not someone you should get to know. Peter loves nothing more than drawing out and manipulating the parts of a person they're most desperate to keep hidden away. He's a creep first and foremost, but has mastered the art of masking his sinister tendencies. Still, there's something distinctly off about him that most subconsciously pick up on. They never quite seem to figure out what it is, however. He's one of Evermore's lucky few (or unlucky, if ignorance truly is bliss) who retained his memories from before arriving in the town, though unlike most others he's not chomping at the bit to leave. Evermore is an intriguing change of pace and chock-full of people on edge. All they need is a little push to begin spiralling.
HEADCANONS
In his previous home (before Evermore) you'll find a vast collection of artifacts that span back centuries. From Medieval brooches to Renaissance boxwood carvings to Victorian hair shrines. Any museum would leap at the chance to get their hands on any number of the artifacts he's amassed.
Dresses sharp and dark. His entire wardrobe is made up almost entirely of black and various shades of gray, occasionally accented with white or gold. Everything is perfectly tailored and has an air of sophistication to it (think dark academia, but a little less cozy).
For all his faults, Peter doesn't often go back on his word or outright lie. He might twist the truth a bit, but he keeps to his promises and has better methods of manipulating someone than lying.
Peter is not a fan of modern technology/not very tech-savvy. As with all immortal beings, he changes with the times, but that doesn't mean he likes said changes. He prefers physical copies of files, has no interest in social media, enjoys the sound of a record over a digital speaker, etc. Think of him as a grumpy old man in this regard.
Greatly enjoys coffee, despite the caffeine not doing much of anything for him. He likes things that taste a little bitter, like dark chocolate or red wine. Anything too sweet feels like his mouth is being coated in sugar.
There are two things that have bothered Peter for quite some time. The first of which is that he has no idea of where he came from. He has no real reason to believe he had a life before the day he opened his eyes to darkness and crawled out of the shadows, but there are traces of something that leave him wondering. Whispers too faint to understand that linger in the back of his mind. The second — a profound loneliness that he cannot rid himself of. A feeling that something is missing.
Hates most holidays (or any type of celebration really), but loves Halloween. The influx of horror films, everyone going around trying to scare each other, all the monstrous decorations, what's not to enjoy? Though he's not a fan of how it's become more treat than trick in the 21st century.
Peter has an interesting voice. For one, he has a British accent he picked a very long time ago and decided to keep. Secondly, when he speaks it doesn't always sound like it's coming out of his mouth. His lips will be moving, but if you closed your eyes you might be tricked into thinking he'd moved behind you. As if there are speakers all around your head or you're listening to him bounce between earbuds. It's something he sometimes does to freak people out a bit, though it can also happen without him quite realizing it.
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1016anon · 1 year
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Title: Four Tulips Author: 1016anon Fandom: Bridgerton Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sharma, Thomas Dorset/Kate Sharma Summary: Anthony is a strategic mastermind.
A/N - Not proofread. Yes, this will have a Home Evacuation Alert, don't worry. It's fluffy. Anthony's just being an idiot, as usual.
-2-
It was the plan to end all plans.
Anthony congratulated himself on his tactical genius. He even devised a clever name: Operation Doorstop.
Let the record show that Anthony had, over the years, made a sincere effort to befriend Kate. It was not his fault that she had rejected each and every olive branch.
He had realized sophomore year of high school that it was juvenile for him and Kate to be sworn rivals. They were no longer freshmen, wide-eyed and innocent of the ways of the larger world. They were sophisticated, jaded citizens in possession of driver's permits which allowed them to operate two ton machinery capable of going 120 miles per hour carrying four to seven life forms. Surely they were mature enough to let bygones be bygones and agree that Anthony was the better debater.
Alas, it was not to be. For whatever reason, Kate took exception to this and a rivalry which had been confined to debate team (and any class they shared where debate was possible) soon spread like mushroom spores to every part of their lives. And unlike a ring of toadstools, it was not a magical experience.
Now nearing the end of his junior year, it was imperative (for reasons of university applications, but mostly pride) that he become captain of the debate team. Why they could not be co-captains was obvious: in any contest between Kate and Anthony, there had to be a winner. There was none of the wishy-washy "everyone is a winner" bullshit. Besides, high school was preparing them to be Adults In The Real World, where one did not become co-president, or share gold medals at the podium.
Someone always had to be at the top.
In other words, Anthony had to beat Kate.  But they were deadlocked in an arms race, too evenly matched.  Anthony somehow had to gain an edge; and what better way to gain such an edge by using psychological warfare and spy games to divert Kate's attention?
This was the lesson Anthony took away from the Cold War. (Proving he had missed the entire point of that particular history lesson, but moving on.)
Anthony had no choice. He had to use the nuclear option. The circumstances were dire enough to justify the decision.
Adults knew that teenagers were soggy croutons in the French onion soup of gonads and prefrontal cortex development.
But teenagers--
Teenagers thought they were noodles in the broth of love.
Anthony, as a wise, worldly junior in high school who used aftershave and owned more than two suits, understood the finer points of teenage psychology.  The best distraction-- the way to victory and becoming captain of the debate team and putting it officially on his college applications-- was to get Kate a boyfriend.
She wasn't going to suddenly change extracurricular activities.  They had practically all the same classes; she wouldn't have a sudden influx of homework.  No-- the way to reduce the amount of time Kate had to prepare for the debate which would determine the course of Anthony's future by demonstrating to college admissions officers that he was a well rounded student with proven leadership skills (and hopefully led their team to victory next year) was to distract her with a boyfriend.
And as it happened, Anthony had, over the profound eternity of five teenage years, gathered all kinds of useless trivia about Kate that could only be gotten between sworn rivals.
Did anyone else care about which three questions Kate got wrong on the biology final their freshman year? No. But Anthony cared knew and remembered.
Did anyone else know by how many seconds Kate beat the school record at 100 meter hurdles? Yes, and his name was Simon, but he didn't count.
Did anyone else understand why Kate had a My Little Pony keychain? Fine, a few people, but did they know why it was Fluttershy? (It was an inside joke with her stepmom, Mary.)
All of this useless trivia, however, turned out to have a very good use. It was all valuable intelligence; these key details allowed Anthony to create an astoundingly good profile of the unsub named Kate Sharma. (No, he did not consider himself to be Hotch-- just because they had dark hair and Anthony had delusions of being in charge of everything didn't mean they were similar, Ben. Anthony fancied himself more of a Reid, i.e. a genius.)
Over the years, the unsub had demonstrated a preference for dark haired individuals-- male, female, trans, and non-binary-- who had a "sense of humor." (Anthony scoffed; everyone thought they had a "sense of humor," and everyone thought they wanted to date a person with a "sense of humor." Colin had an excellent sense of humor. Colin also had less sense than natural selection gave to a guppy.)
Back to the matter at hand, the unsub Kate Sharma's relationships did not last for more than a month, fizzling out for reasons unknown. (Siena refrained from pointing out to Kate that it was because she spent every single day after school with Anthony. At debate club.) She remained on friendly terms with all her exes and did not like getting coffee for a first date.
How did Anthony know this? Because they'd been working late and needed coffee. They went to the local coffee shop full of chintzy fat sofas and plaid wingback chairs (what garage sale from hell they came from, Anthony did not want to know); Kate complained that her dates always brought her here. She grumbled that the shop served mediocre masala chai and was covered in grad school students wearing noise cancelling headphones working studiously on their laptops watching Maru stuffing his adorable head into yet another box.
Anthony took exception to this. There was nothing wrong with watching Maru stuff his head into yet another box. Kate conceded that cats in boxes were cute, but there was nothing better than watching a row of guinea pigs waiting patiently in line for dinner and bouncing off with a carrot three times the size of their body.
The unsub Kate did not like to watch videos of corgis, despite having a corgi named Newton at home. So named because an apple had fallen on his head as a puppy; that day, Newton took a solemn vow to destroy all apples and its derivatives. He'd gone crazy when Edwina brought home apple blossom lotion, barking at Edwina with a look of determination on his face, as though was going to rescue her from the body-snatching apples.
Consequently, the unsub Kate loved apple pie a la mode simply because she could not have it at home. She admitted that she probably wouldn't care much for it otherwise, but if she ordered apple pie for dessert, Appa had to also let her drink a whole cup of coffee to cover the smell. Given that the first time she had apple pie was when she was eight, Anthony felt this explained a lot about her.
No, she did not drink coffee at eight years of age. At eight years of age, she got a second dessert if she ordered apple pie.
"So what you're saying is that you don't actually like apple pie, you like all the benefits that come with it."
"Mm hmm," she agreed, crumbs of pie crust on her lips. "So, what are you going to buy me?"
"What? Nothing! Get something for yourself!"
"You were the one who offered by buy dessert. Now you have to face the consequences."
"Newton can herd sheep for all I care, I'm not getting you anything else."
"Worth a try," she shrugged. "Are you going to have the rest of that?"
"Stay away from my cheesecake, Sharma. I'm warning you."
Right, so the point was that Anthony weaponized all this knowledge for Operation Doorstop.
First, he chose a suitable target.
Siena: "You want me to date my best friend. So that you can be captain of the debate team."
"No," (yes), "I just think you'd be good together."
Anthony made the mistake of opening his spiral bound three-subject notebook.
"Let me see that--"
"Wait, Siena, don't--"
"Oh my god-- is this a list?"
"It's not what it looks like--"
"Candidates must be: tolerable, dutiful, suitable enough lips for French kissing, and at least half a brain, preferably with a sense of humor. You have a suggested list of first dates?!"
"Give that back to me," he snatched it out of her hands.
"Ant, what the hell?"
"She has a type," he grumbled.
"You are insane. Why can't you be co-captains?"
"Because!"
"Oh my god, that's exactly what Kate said too."
"Wait, you've talked about debate team with Kate?"
"Nope, no, I'm not getting in the middle of this. This is between the two of you."
"So... is that a no?"
Siena just stared at him like he was an imbecile and walked away.
"Right," Anthony crossed her name off the list.
--
Operation Doorstop had come to something of a standstill.
He arranged interview with all the potential candidates and they fell short.
One didn't know about the Peloponnesian War; another didn't understand the sociological and economic importance of shifting fiscal responsibility of the household to women. Another couldn't name the composer of a classical harp piece; still another didn't know that the Rite of Spring was a dance, not the soundtrack to the animated dinosaur battle in Disney's Fantasia.
Anthony almost considered giving up on Operation Doorstop-- he was devoting too much time and energy to it and not enough time to arguing with Kate.
Then: a miracle.
Thomas Dorset.
Dorset was the answer to all of Anthony's problems. Once Kate and Dorset started dating, she wouldn't have time to prepare for the all important debate which would determine who became team captain. Anthony's plan wasn't malicious-- she would have a consolation prize, after all. Dorset was a good guy. He checked all the boxes. Anthony wondered why he hadn't thought of Dorset in the first place.
Now all he had to do was set them up on a date and he'd be captain of the debate team.
Win, win, win, for all parties involved.
--
"What do you think of Tom?"
"Tom?" she frowned. "Tom who?"
"Dorset."
"We're friends. I had world history with him last year, why?"
"Nothing, no reason."
Kate narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him.
"Did he say something?"
"Who?" Anthony asked.
"Tom."
"No. I just wondered if you knew him."
"You asked me what I think of him, not whether I knew him," she replied. "I don't think he'll do well on the debate team."
"Why do you say that?"
"I mean, he's smart and knows what he's talking about, but he doesn't really enjoy confrontation. He rarely participated in debates last year in history."
"But you think he's smart."
"Yes? What is this really about, Anthony."
"Nothing. I just wondered," he paused. "Would you date him?"
Kate looked like she had no idea how to answer that question.
Anthony shrugged.
"You think he's smart, I mean. He sounds like your type."
"Why are we talking about my dating life? Wait-- do you keep track of my dating life?"
"Of course I don't. It's just been a while since you told me about one of your conquests--"
"They're not conquests, I've told you a million times--"
"And the dance is coming up--"
"That's in two months."
"Hazards of growing up with Daph."
"Oh, I meant to ask," Kate grinned sweetly, never a good sign. "Has Simon asked her out yet?"
"WHAT?!"
"Daphne and Simon. It's obvious to everyone they like each other."
"She's a freshman! He's a junior!"
"He's a good guy."
"She's my little sister!"
"So? He's your best friend."
"Exactly!"
"I can't believe you," Kate rolled her eyes. "You'd better not warn him off her."
"He's known her since she was nine!"
"They're sweet. Anthony, there's no harm in it--"
"Oh, and I suppose you'd be fine with Eddie dating me."
Kate made a face.
"That's different-- you and I aren't friends."
Something in Anthony's heart fell when she said that. It must have shown on his face because she hurriedly said,
"I meant-- we're rivals. Frenemies."
Anthony smiled wryly.
"And frenemies don't let younger siblings date frenemies."
"Yes," she nodded emphatically. "See? You get me."
"I don't think I do."
Then, Anthony had a brilliant idea.
"I won't say a word about Simon and Daph--"
"Good"
"If you go on a date with Tom."
"What? Why would I-- I don't even like him like that!"
"You're asking me to do something uncomfortable, I only think it's fair I ask the same."
"Did he put you up to this?"
"No."
"Are you and Ben betting on me again?"
"I have never bet on you in anything. It's your friends-- Siena, Gen, and Marina."
"As though George and Desmond aren't the same. And your brothers."
"This is not a bet. I promise you."
"Then what is, Anthony?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "He's looks at you sometimes."
"You look at me. You stare at me."
"Frenemies," he smiled.
"Ugh. So if I say yes, you promise you won't make a big deal about Simon and Daph."
"I give you my word."
"Ugh."
"And you won't have to listen to Eddie complain about Daph interrupting her time with El."
"Don't remind me," Kate shuddered. "I'm scarred for life."
"You're scarred? How do you think I feel?"
"I'm fairly certain El didn't subject you to a play by play description of--"
"I can't hear you," Anthony said, covering his ears.
She flipped him off.
"So?" he asked.
"So what?"
"You know."
"Fine. One date. But he's never going to ask me."
--
"Whatever you do, don't take her to the corner coffee shop, she hates it there."
"Okay," Dorset looked at him, amused.
"And if she asks for a second dessert after apple pie, always get it for her. And she will order apple pie, I guarantee you."
"Ant, are you sure you don't want to date her?"
"What? Me? Of course not," Anthony said, as though the very notion was ridiculous. "She hates me. We're rivals. Frenemies."
"I don't think spending every afternoon in each other's company is considered hatred."
"It's because we're arguing," he said, dismissive. "She like tulips, but I guess they're out of season."
"Look, Ant, Kate and I are good friends and I like her, but I don't think she returns the feeling."
"She hasn't had a chance to get to you know you."
"Because... she spends all her time with you."
"Look, just ask her. She might say yes."
"I'd rather not have my ego crushed."
"Jack was stupid. And he's not her type."
Dorset's eyebrows, which were already quite high, seemed to be making a bid for an Olympic record.
"You and Kate have a lot in common, I promise you. She goes to India very other summer to visit her family."
"What do you get out of all this?"
"Pardon?"
"You're trying to set me up with your frenemy, Ant, so I wondered what you get out of all this."
"Oh. Well, I can't be nice once in a while?"
Tom laughed.
"Does it matter what I get out of it? You'll be happy, she'll be happy, I'll be happy. We'll all be happy, the reason doesn't really matter."
"I think the reason you'll be happy will matter a lot," Tom shook his head, smiling. "But this is clearly about Kate and she's more than capable of handling you."
"Your vote of confidence is much appreciated."
"If things go wrong, I'm placing the blame firmly on you."
"Absolutely."
"And you're certain you don't want to date her?"
"One hundred percent."
"All right. What have I got to lose?"
"See? You get me."
--
"So."
"So what?"
"You're smiling. I see my plan is working."
"He told me you coached him on everything."
"I wanted to give him a fighting chance. So? It went well?"
Kate blushed.
"He's very sweet."
"I don't want to know details."
"I was going to give you any," she rolled her eyes. "We're going on a second date next weekend."
"I told you, he's your type."
"You're going to hold this over my head for the rest of time, aren't you."
"When I'm right, I'm right."
"Yes, and when you're wrong, you're so terribly wrong."
"See, Kate, I know you."
She looked at him a little strangely.
"I suppose you do."
"And, I know I'm going to crush your arguments at practice tomorrow."
"You wish."
"Then what're waiting for? Give me your best shot."
--
"Hey, Kate."
"Oh--" Kate turned to see Anthony leaning against the locker. "Hi, Anthony."
"You're the only person who says my full name."
"Am I?"
"You've never called me Ant."
"I never noticed," she shrugged, putting her books in her bag.
"Practice?"
"Not today. Tom and I are, um, going to see a movie."
Anthony didn't understand why his heart felt like it was slowly, slowly rolling down a hill.
"Told you I was right."
Kate made a face.
"You were, so go away and bug someone else."
"Kate," Tom came up to them. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah. I was just telling this one to stop being so smug."
Tom laughed.
"I don't think that's possible. It's part of his charm."
"I'm standing right here, thanks."
"Oh, is that you, Ant? Didn't see you there," Tom joked.
"Ant!" Simon called.
"Looks like I've gotta run. Have fun on your date!"
Tom opted for the genial, "Thanks, we will," while Kate just told him, "Have fun at practice."
Anthony saluted and walked to Simon.
"They look surprisingly good together," Simon remarked.
Kate chose that moment to give Tom a peck on the cheek, which made the other boy turn red. Anthony watched her tease him, her smile wide and clear.
"Yeah," Anthony replied. "Yeah they do."
--
Operation Doorstop: Successful.
Anthony: Strategic Mastermind.
Onward to victory.
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twistedintern · 1 year
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In the wake of ABEMA...
There emerged two sides:
The masquerade outfit fans,
And the Rollo admirers.
Still, even as the hands of the clock turned and event was realized,
They, the players, watched rapt as they came to learn--to understand--the premise and its cast.
Yet, there was one,
Alone; woe!
Try as they might, they could not derive the same satisfaction from student vestments or the machinations of a student council head. Appealing, but lacking the especial substance they craved from the depths of their spirit---
Oh, who am I kidding? This event is incredible! The stuff of dreams most pleasant, of wishes granted, of appetites appeased!
Rollo is a very intriguing fellow; this is undoubtedly true. And the masquerade aesthetic is a robust, dapper, and downright savory style; a savvy blend of sophistication and mystique!
And yet, dear visitors, neither is cause for my mirth and good cheer upon this hour--oh, no!
Rather, it has come to pass that a certain history professor should figure prominently into the narrative!
Although I would leap at the chance to prattle on and gush over his person, I shall instead highlight my favorite details about the event thus far:
Headmaster Crowley entrusting the selected students’ care to Trein (for a number of reasons... albeit to the majority’s chagrin)
Trein enlisting Crewel’s(!) services in watching over Lucius in his absence, a gesture which speaks volumes about their relationship (it also serves to confirm Crewel’s love for canines)
Trein enjoying himself immensely in a space brimming with history; he seizes this rare opportunity to educate his charges on-location
The precious bell of NBC holds profound, nostalgic meaning for him, its tolling hearkening back to his honeymoon and dearly departed wife who was moved by those same sounds
He... gave the prefect his phone number! (I assure you, I am not jealous...!) and expresses his trust in them as he worries after Night Raven’s pupils
He demonstrates admirable devotion to his task as a chaperone and (regrettably) declines the offer to don the masquerade attire Rollo had prepared for him in advance
I cannot wait to see how things unfold!
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 years
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Love On The Brain: Part 13
Frank had raised his glass and parted his lips at the rim to sip on the strong whiskey within the transparent glass, and the action itself was almost delicate, ornate and sophisticated…until he had slammed the glass back down.
As it had landed against the table and he hissed, his tongue lapping at the beads of brown liquor that fell over the curve of his bottom lip, the tension in the room grew. It had felt tainted and disturbing; the estate that was meant to be your home, your pup’s home, was no longer rich with your scent.
It was stale; the scent that brought each of them comfort had started to fade. And they were at a loss; they were feeling the total weight of your emotional turmoil, your physical exhaustion. They had felt everything through the bond, and Ari, poor Ari, had received the brunt of it all.
Ari, who was trying to keep you eased and happy, keep you out of your headspace, was alone.
You weren’t taking it well; even with time to adjust, you were feeling the emptiness, and the lack of alphas with you, was starting to cause a more profound effect. It was beginning to wear on you more than they anticipated.
“There’s no discussion.” Frank grit his teeth. “We’ve hardly gotten anywhere, and she’s going to drive herself to a point where it becomes dangerous for herself and our pups. There’s no discussion. You’re leaving.”
“Frank-“ Steve started, arguing the point that they couldn’t up and leave. They were being watched, and they knew it.
“No, he’s right. We’re caught between a rock and a hard place. We all stay, we get this done sooner, and she could be too far gone. If you go, we’re still here working on tracking these bastards down-“ Andy was the voice of reason while Frank was grappling with the urgency coming through the bond.
“I can work remotely.” Jake cut Andy off, his arms crossed over his chest. “Andy and Frank are right. She’s pregnant, she’s under stress, and Ari can’t be everything she needs.”
“So that’s it? You two go…?” Steve glanced from Bucky to Jake and then finally to Frank. The debate was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Should they go and help Ari, or should they stay and catch the threat and the pack of traffickers together?
“You need to take her things,” Frank stood and slowly pushed the chair back, leaving his glass of whiskey in favour of moving toward the living room, “it’ll help her.”
“We’re taking a portable sonogram machine.” Bucky had finally broken the silence as he studied Frank grabbing a thick sherpa blanket, one that would smell like them. “Can’t risk her going into town.”
“Are you sure you can work remotely?” Steve questioned Jake, not necessarily being condescending but taking the severe approach he had usually rooted himself in when he was working.
“I can work from anywhere in the world.” Jake had shrugged off the comment and leaned back against the cupboard with his arms crossed over his chest. “Andy’s busy in the court system navigating all the shit they had left for him to deal with; Frank is working his way through the local systems. You and Bucky-“
“We’re doing what we need to do.” Steve had cut Jake off with a soft nod of his head, attempting to be blasé about the surge of anxiety that was coursing through the bond.
It was hard on all of them, being so far from you. It was made even more harrowing by how you felt and the devastation that caused you to turn inward. The feeling of loss and guilt, the bitter forlorn sting of feeling like you were missing such a big piece of you, knowing that they were here and you were there.
They were missing the development of their pups, they were missing the experiences of their pregnant mate, and that had resonated with all of them. They were feeling helpless as one of their pack brothers had to bear the weight that was meant to be shared by all of them.
“She left her favourite hoodie. You should take it.” Steve mumbled and drew out a sigh; that exact and undeniable wanting made it hard to breathe also stirred the need to obliterate the threat against their omega.
“Take something from all of us. I know it won’t be the same, but it should help.” Andy had spoken over his shoulder as he walked toward his office, off to find his ‘something’ that would bring you as much comfort as possible.”
“Just…” Frank glanced away, his chest getting tight and his throat feeling as if it was going to close off entirely as he choked out his verbal plea, “take care of her.”
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The sound of crunching leaves under your feet had been one of the many sounds that had flit around you, though it was the sound that transported you most readily to a place of innocence and childhood wonder. It was the crunch of the leaves that seemed to draw you further from the safe house that had been your hideout toward the shed in the back of the property. The threat of snow had been hanging around for days, maybe even a week, yet there was nothing but frigid cold and the bitter end of fall that was hanging on for dear life.
It was the bridge between fall and winter, the bridge between safety and imminent danger that hung around you, that had hovered as a dense fog. It obscured every notion you had about how your life would have or should have been now that you were in a pack and had reduced you to a sort of purgatory. You were neither here nor there; you were neither okay nor devastated.
“You left the cabin.” Ari had chimed as he set the axe down against the chopping block, the wooden handle sticking out from behind the thick stump still stuck in the ground. “Are you okay?”
You glanced at him, studying him in the thick flannel that was wrapped illicitly around his biceps and accentuated his broad shoulders and wide back. The patterned flannel was enhanced with something soft to stave off the winter chill and had made the imposing and massive alpha looks as if he was born and bred in the woods.
“I needed to get out,” you mumbled and approached slowly, glancing between the pile of wood he had already chopped and the wood that needed to be cut, “do you need any help?”
“Sweetheart,” Ari exhaled and drew his fingers through his thick hair, his blue eyes cast upon you, “are you feeling okay this morning?”
He was gone when you had woken up, his side of the bed still warm but not warm enough. You didn’t have to focus on much of anything to know he was chopping wood; the subtle and almost muffled sound of the wood cracking under the weight of the axe could be heard even through the floors and the walls. Ari was taking his frustration out on the wood he was chopping for the fire, and after you had left the bed and yanked on one of his flannels and a pair of thick sweats, you descended the stairs and yanked a pair of boots on. You left the cabin and walked around the back of the safehouse, bringing you to the point you were at now.
“I’m okay.” The simple word was loaded with different meanings of the simple word that was so convoluted, that was so ragged and rigid. Okay, was the word you had used more often than not, instead of vocalizing how tired you were. You wanted to go home; you missed your alphas, and the further you had gone without them, had been more opportunity for guilt to settle into you.
“You wanna go for a walk?” Ari had stepped away from the pile of split logs and turned to you, scooping up a pair of rawhide gloves he had been using and tucking them under his arm. Your eyes followed the movement of him tucking the gloves under his arm before you had drawn your attention to his face. There was another puff of air that fell from his lips, the almost indistinguishable cloud of warm air contrasting with the chill of the atmosphere. You had slipped your hands into your flannel and touched your fingertips together in a small pattern hidden from Ari by the thick coat you wore. You had dug in your heels and chewed the inside of your cheek while you processed the sensations hitting you at once.
You were tired from not sleeping well but not tired enough to go back to bed.
You were hungry after a choppy sleep, but the thought of food was stomach-churning. The idea of you eating anything right now was enough to make the strike of morning sickness that came with pregnancy iron hot.
You were tired, you were sick, and you missed your alphas.
“A walk would be nice.” There wasn’t much else you wanted to do that you hadn’t already done.
You’d spent your days occupying yourself as much as possible to distract from the guilt you had so inherently undergone when you thought about them giving up everything to help you.
You had attempted to distract yourself from the deeply rooted and toxic cloud of anguish and longing for alphas that couldn’t be here.
Ari was the only alpha you could be around, and while he was terrific, patient to no end with you and your hormone-driven state, he was not able to do everything.
He could not stave the neediness, to stave the devastation that riddled you from being separated from them.
“A walk would be nice,” the older alpha crooned, and you smiled small, your hands still shoved in your pockets and your fingertips still tapping, “it’s beautiful out here.”
“How are you feeling?” The question came with a double meaning, and the double meaning was not lost on you.
Not when Ari had made his point by approaching you and reaching out his hand to brush against your baby bump. He had rested his hand upon your bump that was covered by your flannel jacket and brushed his thumb back and forth.
“The babies are fine, I imagine. Since they’re causing me so much trouble.” Your smile was short and soft, and it was temporary.
“A little bird named Frank once told me about an omega who was trouble,” Ari spoke with heartwarming kindness and affection that surpasses all logic.
“I know you’re not talking about me.” You grinned, feeling a burst of ease that surged through the bond from a few of your alphas. “I mean, I was never trouble.”
“No,” Ari shook his head and pursed his lips, “you were a perfect Angel.”
“Don’t you forget it,” you laughed under your breath and stepped closer to him, angling yourself into his chest as he drew his arm around your waist.
“I could never,” Ari placed his hand against your cheek and then curled his fingers and traced a path down to your jaw, then around to your scent glands, brushing his knuckles against your marker neck, “I’m sorry you’re going through this sweetheart.”
“I am too.” Your sad moment had broken the tenderness, and yet, it was only a moment before you were turned on your head again by the sound of tires coming up the driveway, and you had hesitated a moment before Ari had gently nudged you toward the driveway, his smile more telling than you had anticipated.
You had turned on your heel and stalked toward the driveway, the vehicle that had approached finally stopping, and through the windshield, you could see two of your alphas sitting in the front.
Bucky was on the right, his face contorted in annoyance that faded when his eyes had been set upon you. You could see his hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck, and his blue eyes seemed to be narrowed at the corners.
Jake was on the left in the driver’s seat, his blue eyes tucked behind glasses were far brighter and more vibrant than Bucky’s, and he seemed to be more awake than your other alpha.
“Bucky…Jake…” you spoke their name in disbelief and slowly walked toward them, in a daze until you could reach out and touch them until you could place your fingers against their cheeks. “You’re here. You’re real, and you’re here.”
Jake was the first to touch you in response after you’d touched his cheek. He was the first to pull you into a breathtaking, heart-stopping kiss that transcended all reason, but it wasn’t long before Bucky had stolen your attention.
He had swept you into his embrace and kissed you just as intensely as Jake had. You snaked your hands up his chest and gripped the front of his shirt; every passing emotion, every driving hormone that made you agitated, had been passed through the kiss.
And while it wasn’t what you had wanted in its entirety, you were happy to have them here.
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roydeezed · 1 year
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Everything Everywhere All at Once is good actually…
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I’ve been wanting to write something on Everything, Everywhere, All at Once for a while now. And I’ve been waffling(or should I say bageling? Believe me, not my worst pun, but I do think I deserve to be executed for this one) on how I actually wanted to talk about it. Do I get into the toxicity surrounding the debates? Do I try to address each and every concern? It was getting overwhelming because there was just so much. Well, none of that matters. And all of it does. So I decided to keep it simple and sweet and just pick and choose what I care about in an effort to show you that yeah, Everything Everywhere All at Once is good actually. 
Because it is absurd and ultimately tied up in a happy ending, there has been a compulsion among those that did not end up enjoying it, to say that it is not high art, or something deserving of a prestigious award such as an Oscar. And to pre-empt the arguments of ‘Oscar’s don’t mean anything’, I’m glad you think so, but it is a highly televised event that is representative of the respect and admiration of one’s peers, so I’m going to say it does. For the sake of the argument. Moving on, the reason that made me want to write something about EEAAO is the sentiment that it’s not profound enough or in some way good enough because the main theme it trades on is something as ‘pedestrian’ as kindness. If you’ve followed the discourse, you know what I’m talking about. I want to discuss how the conclusion the film landed on, of being kind to one another, is extremely profound. 
But before that, let’s just briefly touch on the other parts of the film that qualify it for such accolades. The filmmaking. The filmmaking in this context, I think, is about how effortlessly everything was weaved together. Lesser films would have trouble blending the absurdism and juvenile humor with the dramatic throughline of a family in trouble of tearing itself apart. The Daniel’s walked that tightrope fabulously and every other aspect, from the acting to the special effects, puts in the work needed. Even the plot itself, a jumble of sci-fi cliches mixed in with kung-fu tussles, untangles itself and lays itself out for everything else to build on. It’s a masterwork of balance amongst excess. 
Now back to what I think really sets it apart. Other than everything else amazing about it of course. And that’s the central idea and theme that movie lands on, with Ke Huy Quan delivering it as Waymond with heartbreaking sincerity, “The only thing I do know is that we have to be kind. Please, be kind. Especially when we don't know what's going on.” And it’s that idea, of being kind above all else that makes it so profound. Because Evelyn and her daughter do know what is going on. They know everything. And they know that nothing matters. So, ending on that, choosing that, choosing kindness, is the most profound thing one can do. 
Because it’s asking the extremely profound and time weary question of “What does it all mean? Why does it matter?” only to get the equally profound but world weary views of Nihilism and Absurdism thrown back in its face before realizing them to be life affirming in a way that lets you choose what matters. And what matters is kindness. 
I want to bring up a quote that has stayed with me for a long time, it’s from the short story The Ones who walk away from Omelas by Ursula K LeGuin, where the world’s greatest city exists only because a child suffers horrifically, “The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain.” Some may take this to say that Good is Good, actually! But I see it as saying that Pain and Evil is bland without the presence of Good and Happiness. And Vice Versa. I take it to say that we need conflict to make interesting stories, flat-out suffering or flat-out happiness is not interesting, despite what the various sides of the EEAAO discourse may have you think. This movie looks at the pain and the unhappiness and the meaningless of it all and still chooses kindness, that’s what makes it profound. 
And if we want to take it one last direction, I want to talk about another quote that’s stayed with me, one that’s kept me going for a while if I’m being honest. It’s from Bob Ross on his show The Joy of Painting where he points out that, “Gotta have opposites, light and dark and dark and light, in painting. It’s like in life. Gotta have a little sadness once in awhile so you know when the good times come.” And that’s what EEAAO does, it shows us the lowest we can go, when we’ve discovered that nothing really matters, before asking us to choose what does. It has darkness, absolutely, It’s the meaninglessness that Jobu Tupaki lands on. And that’s why the answer chosen, the light of kindness shines so bright that it seems almost juvenile and childish. Because it was given so much depth by the darkness of sadness and meaninglessness. 
In conclusion, I could wrap up what I’ve talked about so far, but you’ve already read it. So, all I want to say is these last few things. Thank you for reading if you got this far. Everything Everywhere All at Once is pretty good isn’t it? And choose kindness. It's profound.
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James Cameron’s personal thinking and the decisions he made about Avatar 2 are one completely inexplicable mystery to me.
On one hand, here is a capable director who is clearly passionate and reflective about what he’s doing. He can talk intelligently and articulate about the movie’s technology, the actors, the shooting, and he is even sensible and sophisticated enough to take into account The Numinous which he has accidentally captured within the first movie’s experience. The man patiently waited 13 years to again present audiences with the absolute best he had to give. He gained our trust, we waited with him and for him and took him for his word, and the guy had time, money, a star cast, mocap, the reviews from the first movie, fresh creative details about the world of Pandora like e.g. the eclipse or the songcord, everything.
And then somehow, with all that amazing material on hand, he actively dismissed everything else beside the visuals that would have made this second movie a masterpiece like the first: Great storytelling, strong and believable character arcs, the refinement of the previous movie’s flaws, compelling music. Do not get me wrong on this: Cameron chose this. Yes he had enough time to develop this film, in fact no one had more time than him. Yes his composer died, but he died in 2015, and Cameron probably had Simon Franglen lined up from pretty early on since he was a close co-worker of Horner. Yes he knew that most of his tropes were stereotypically bad, boring and even possibly harmful. He heard the audience responses!!! His writer’s room wanted to create new stuff, and he literally forcibly shut them down. I don’t get it. He limited the sequel in almost every way except for his beloved visual technology, and he doesn’t even seem to care much. How someone who is supposedly a sensible person, very in love with filmmaking, plus has every means to achieve what he wants..., who on top of that got to enjoy his audience’s decade-long patience, ...manages to neglect the very basics of sound film creation, like the importance of script, is beyond me. Cameron opened up another world, one that we waited 13 years for, and then gave no message. I mean, I know I didn’t expect profound, but there quite literally was no message. It was a beautiful documentary of Pandoran wildlife at best. It didn’t change a thing for me irl, except for the realization that Cameron won’t be able to pull off another movie like that or I’ll rapidly lose interest. I won’t be the only one.
And that’s how Avatar The Way Of Water is both a very good and a very very bad movie, and the reason we can’t even decide what to say in reviews. Should we recommend, or not? Should we rewatch, or criticize the heck out of it?
No one knows. Lol.
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bloodybells1 · 10 months
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Farewell?
Hi Carlos!
What a pleasure Private Earth! Really. I am not a professional in the music industry, so my opinion is just the result of my emotions.
The whole album is gentle and at times joyful! Desert Flora is addictive (okay, pass me the term please, but it's almost a shamanic trance, I love getting carried away by the rhythmic component!). I love then, how Rising Mountain is such a sunny, positive, and fresh release.
But there is one moment in the entire album that has continued to speak to me, for hours, like an echo.
And I can even tell you exactly when it is. Everything begins with a dialogue between the different instruments; a dialogue made up of "words," silences, pauses, exchanges. Then, minute 7:27… it's like a hug, a moment that I would call indulgent and poetic. It's on Ancient Lake.
One last thing: I . . . read your new personal essay "A Farewell to Armbands".
It's really touching.
I don’t deny that I felt a certain contrast between the sweetness of Private Earth, which I had just listened to, and the (at times) raw words of what I had read. The healing power of music.
Yours,
Someone Sweet
———- ———- ———- ———-
Dear Someone Sweet,
I am so happy to hear that Moment 727—shall we call it that?—has found its way to your heart. 
When I was composing “Ancient Lake” at the piano I went very slowly during that section. I was very inspired by Deuter, specifically his Atmospheres, an enchanting and resonant album of delicate piano and synth string arrangements. What I love about this album is its ability to conjure rich landscapes very minimally, with almost no movement. Much of the melodic material is childlike in its innocence, sometimes seeming like the simplistic lines of a lullaby. I half expect to hear the chimes of an infant’s mobile. It’s one of the album’s charms. 
And Atmospheres was in the forefront of my consciousness as I labored over the chord progression beginning at Moment 727 in “Ancient Lake.” I wanted to emulate that sense of stillness, plainness, delicacy and innocence that Deuter is so good at, something so frail and delicate as to conjure the sound of the exhalation of seraphim. That this moment, Moment 727, came to you as an embrace makes me very happy: I wanted this section to be like the most ethereal caress imaginable. 
Let’s face it: New Age music is limited. I say this not to criticize the genre, nor to make any special case, as I believe every music is limited, one way or another. But not every music is limited in the same way. Heavy metal, for example, is limited by its volume, intensity and cultural values: its affective disposition as an extreme engagement makes it unsuitable for a great many other avenues in life and forms of expression. 
New Age has similar degrees of limitation, though manifested completely differently. It is a deeply stigmatized genre, for good and bad reasons, but one of the bad ones is for its purported simplistic musical value. It is true that musical innovation or even, I’ll grant you, sophistication, is inherently at odds with the core composition of this genre’s musical structure in general. But this is a disingenuous critique: a Hallmark card is not any less beautiful of an object for its lack of aesthetic sophistication when it is opened by the person to whom it is addressed: at that moment, fulfilling its use-value, which is to make the receiver happy, the card is one of the most beautiful things in the world. At such moments, we would not necessarily want to be greeted with the ingenious paintings of, say, a Matisse. 
So, yes, its limitations are profound, though, crucially, far from disqualifying. I regard as unfortunate that its disgrace as a genre of music persists to this day, so much so that a great many contemporary New Age artists must perform ridiculous contortions in order to avoid the label. That is very sad to me. 
Not all music need stand on its own. “Mere" practicality is not inherently disqualifying. So what if a music’s raison d’être is solely, as in the case of dance music, to move the feet? Then, what if it’s “merely” to calm the soul, as it is in New Age? These practical uses for music have monumental amounts of cultural value and should never contribute to a lowering of status in our eyes. 
During our most vulnerable moments, or during moments when we are so overwhelmed we can barely tolerate the sound of a car passing by us, only a certain tenor of frequency may arrive at our ears in such a way as to support this delicate state, and not disrupt it. It is not a particularly interesting tenor, nor a particularly sophisticated one. But that precise tenor is nonetheless one of the only ones that will do for those moments. 
Sometimes we can only hear bells, and nothing else. 
Sometimes we can only hear a lone flute, and nothing else. 
Sometimes our insides feel so riven with anguish and uncertainty, sometimes we are so frail, that only the simplistic sounds of this genre are tolerable. 
Sometimes we are like a chick in a nest: a mere gust of wind and it’s over for us. Sometimes those rather sophisticated and interesting phrasings of a luminary of music, like Jimi Hendrix or Frank Sinatra, have too much sophistication, too much interest and too much personality for us to be able to tolerate, and those artists’ exertions become so many threatening gusts of wind tossing us out of our frail nests.
I’d venture to say that we still need a naive and jejune music such as New Age for those moments. And, as I can tell you from the relatively limited experience I have with this genre of music, it is a deceptively difficult task for music to accomplish. It is incredibly difficult to restrain oneself from being “too interesting.” Creating music that recedes to the background, but nonetheless engages with the soul, is very complicated and I am still learning more about it every day. May New Age continue to offer the solace it is designed for and which it accomplishes so well.
Perhaps by now, Someone Sweet, having read my eulogy for New Age music, you understand a little bit better this contrast which you pointed out happening between my recently published essay and my recently published album. Sometimes I wonder if I am not fashioning some sort of safe space for my soul in dedicating myself as much as I have to New Age music, given that, in my writing, I am focussed on a type of engagement that is far from the merely practical. 
The writing that I am most interested in reading, and the kind I am most interested in pursuing as a craft, seeks to lock horns with a rather aggressive steed, the parts of the unconscious, both within oneself and within the larger sphere of human relations, which are hellbent on remaining unseen and unheard and will put up the bloodiest, most hostile resistance to having their truth announced to the world. 
“A Farewell to Armbands” was the Somme, a titanic confrontation with the enemy in this ongoing war between the light of the self and the darkness of the unconscious. Not every one of my essays is, nor will be, so cataclysmic as this one was, but each one still has an element of that wrestling match with the dark. And there may yet be more Sommes in my future. That is what writing is for for me.
My favorite kind of writing is the kind that acts exactly as I ascribed to camp as a form of expression in the piece itself, as a kind of “hot lamp” that “cauterizes” wounds. Make no mistake, this is a dramatic and violent undertaking. And so, when we come back from this fight—a fight I would like to help as many people fight as I possibly can—we will also need to be soothed, to put the final gauze and the final unguent on the gaping wound. For me, that is not writing, where the battle takes place, but music, which should perform the necessary function of field medic. If you’ve been wounded in battle, maybe even lost a limb, you need morphine. 
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unknowncruiser · 10 months
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In a quaint little town nestled amidst rolling hills, there stood a new barbershop that had recently captured the attention of the locals. It seemed to materialize overnight, its presence both intriguing and enigmatic. Curiosity beckoned passersby to venture inside and explore its secrets.
One sunny afternoon, a man named Ethan found himself strolling along the town's cobblestone streets. As fate would have it, his path led him to the enigmatic barbershop's entrance. Pushing open the door, he was immediately captivated by what he saw.
The interior exuded an air of sophistication, a fusion of old-world charm and modern aesthetics. Sunlight streamed through large, ornate windows, casting warm hues across the room. The rich aroma of sandalwood and freshly brewed coffee filled the air, creating a comforting ambiance.
Behind the elegantly designed counter stood the lone barber—a figure that instantly caught Ethan's eye. Tall and muscular, he possessed a physique that seemed sculpted with precision. His broad shoulders hinted at strength and resilience, while his toned arms suggested a life dedicated to physical activity.
But it was his face that truly mesmerized Ethan. Chiseled features, perfectly symmetrical, with deep, soulful eyes that sparkled with an ancient wisdom. Every movement was graceful, and his warm smile radiated a genuine kindness that enveloped the room. Ethan couldn't help but feel a magnetic pull, drawn to the enigmatic barber like a moth to a flame.
As Ethan approached the chair, the barber gestured for him to take a seat. His voice was as soothing as a gentle breeze on a summer's day, each word a melodic cadence that resonated within Ethan's very being. The barber draped a pristine white cloth around Ethan's shoulders, its soft touch bringing a sense of tranquility.
"Welcome, my friend," the barber said, his voice like honeyed silk. "What brings you to my humble abode today?"
Ethan hesitated for a moment, captivated by the barber's presence. "I was merely passing by and felt compelled to step inside," he replied, his voice betraying a mix of curiosity and intrigue.
The barber chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mystery. "Ah, the pull of fate can be a powerful force indeed. Allow me to attend to your grooming needs, and perhaps, we can uncover the true reason for your arrival."
As Ethan settled into the plush barber chair, the gentle hum of conversation permeated the air. The barber stood behind him, his presence exuding an undeniable aura of tranquility. As he prepared his tools, his voice, like velvet, washed over Ethan's senses.
With practiced precision, the barber set to work, his skilled hands gliding effortlessly through Ethan's hair. Each stroke was deliberate, gentle yet purposeful, as if imbuing a touch of magic into every strand. Time seemed to stand still as the barber worked, his expertise apparent in every movement.
"Relax, my friend," the barber whispered in a voice so soothing it seemed to caress Ethan's very soul. "Feel the weight of the world lift from your shoulders. Let the worries of the day dissipate."
The words echoed in Ethan's mind, resonating with an intensity that he couldn't quite comprehend. He found himself fixated on the swirling barber pole, its vibrant colors creating a mesmerizing dance before his eyes. The hypnotic allure grew stronger with every passing second, captivating him in a trance-like state.
Ethan's gaze remained locked on the hypnotic barber pole, its swirling motion luring him deeper into a world of relaxation. His muscles loosened, tension melting away like snowflakes under the sun. The weight of the day's burdens faded, replaced by a profound sense of calmness.
"Now, my friend," the barber's voice caressed Ethan's ears, "allow yourself to surrender to the soothing rhythm of the moment. Feel the gentle touch of the scissors as they trim away the unnecessary, leaving only that which truly matters."The barber, standing tall and confident behind him, emanated an aura of commanding presence.
With every precise snip of the scissors, Ethan's connection to the outside world waned. His consciousness danced on the edge of reality and dreams, guided by the mesmerizing voice of the barber. It was as if the entire universe had been distilled into this singular moment.
As Ethan settled deeper into the plush barber chair, his mind became enveloped in a haze, his thoughts giving way to the commanding presence of the barber. The room seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of anticipation.
"Relax," the barber's voice echoed with authority, its power echoing through Ethan's very being. "Let go of inhibitions. Trust in capable hands to guide...to guide..."
Ethan's voice trailed off, his mind slipping into a state of echoing reflection. Like a mirror, he began to mimic the barber's enticing words, his own voice carrying fragments of the barber's commands.
"...of inhibitions. Trust...trust...hands to guide...to guide."
His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, eyes glazed with a mix of desire and surrender. Each snip of the scissors, each stroke of the comb, seemed to echo through his consciousness, deepening the spell that bound him to the barber's authoritative presence.
"Open up," the barber's voice rumbled like distant thunder, his words falling like drops of honey into Ethan's mesmerized mind. "Embrace true desires. Release...release...that hold you captive."
Ethan's voice, a mere echo of the barber's, repeated the words with a half-conscious obedience.
"Embrace...true desires. Release...hold you captive."
The connection between them intensified, the lines blurring as the barber's touch reached beyond the physical realm. Ethan's vulnerability was laid bare, his own desires exposed, and he surrendered willingly to the power that held him captive.
In that moment, Ethan realized the depth of his attraction to the handsome barber. Like a marionette, he danced to the tune of the barber's words, his own voice mimicking the enticing commands.
"You have shown...shown great strength," the barber's voice continued, its authority seeping into Ethan's very essence. "Embrace...the flame...flame that burns within you."
Ethan's voice, a mere vessel for the barber's words, echoed back in fragmented whispers.
"Great...great strength. Embrace...flame...burns within you."
Ethan's guard began to crumble, his vulnerability laid bare under the firm guidance of the barber's touch. He found himself sharing secrets, dreams, and fears that he had never before spoken aloud. With each confession, the connection between them grew stronger, binding them in a realm beyond the physical.
In that moment, Ethan recognized the undeniable attraction that had drawn him to this mysterious barbershop. The barber's physical prowess only heightened the magnetic pull, but it was the strength and confidence that emanated from him that truly captivated Ethan's heart.
As the grooming continued, Ethan's reflection in the mirror took on a new radiance—a fusion of desire and self-discovery. The barber's commanding presence had awakened something within him, a hunger for life and the courage to embrace his true desires.
With the final touch, the barber stepped back, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and understanding. "You have shown great strength, my friend," he said, his voice a soothing balm that seeped into Ethan's very core. "Embrace the flame that burns within you and let it guide you towards your own truth."
As Ethan bid farewell to the captivating barber, he carried the memory of their encounter deep within him. The allure of the handsome barber's physical presence had ignited a flame of desire, but it was the authoritative strength and warmth in his voice that had awakened Ethan's truest self. And as he ventured back into the world, Ethan embraced his newfound authenticity, guided by the echoes of the barber's commanding voice and the beating of his own passionate heart.
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phynali · 2 years
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i just found the best research article and i want to share with you all:
"The Complex Relation Between Receptivity to Pseudo-Profound Bullshit and Political Ideology"
that title in simple terms: are liberals or conservatives more susceptible to fake-deep bullshit?
the critical result is that people whose morality is based more heavily on loyalty to one's groups, deference to authorities, and moral purity are waaaay more susceptible to this kind of fake-deep bullshit.
that effect was so strong it wiped out a lot of other results in their data. for example, endorsing tradition/resisting change and being socially conservative were strongly associated with being more susceptible to bullshit, but those factors stopped predicting susceptibility once these moral foundations were accounted for.
arguably, the reason this happens is because "social conservatism" is almost shorthand for holding strong loyalty/authority/purity morals. like, a long series of research papers have found that political (especially social) conservatism is predicted by endorsing loyalty/authority/purity morals.
Not to make everything about fandom, but I've been confident for a long-ass time that fanpol antis largely base their morality on these moral foundations (loyalty/authority/purity). antis are loyal to the group consensus and get harshly rejected and excluded by other antis when they have a dissenting opinion (loyalty); they tend to be obsessed with canon validation and harass creators on social media, not to mention their deference to cult leader-like big name fans (deference to authority); and of course it's in the name: fandom purity culture.
(if you want a detailed write-up on that feel free to ask, i have thoughts)
Meaning, ultimately, i spent like 2.5 hours reading this paper and writing this post just so could write the research-supported assertion that:
Antis are particularly susceptible to bullshit
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additional description of the paper's other results under the cut, unrelated to fandom, for anyone who wants to know more of the political results but can't access the paper
a) social conservatives, people who endorse holding to tradition / who are resistant to change, and people who base their morality more heavily on loyalty to groups, deference to authority, and moral purity are definitely more susceptible to bullshit.
b) people who take the middle of the road it comes to fighting for greater societal equality (measured e.g. by asking about creating greater economic equality) are maybe slightly more susceptible to bullshit. this is apparently related to 'centrism theory' which they discuss as saying, and i quote, "less intellectually sophisticated individuals tend to avoid deviating from the mainstream" uhh ????. rather than interpret this as related to intellect, i'd sooner argue (especially with the other factors they've already taken into account like cognitive reflection), this result is mostly indicating that conforming to the middle/centre means more susceptibility to bullshit (because you don't challenge the status quo, you don't challenge the bullshit).
c) economic leftists are sometimes more susceptible to bullshit. this effect only appears when controlling for other things like social conservatism, resistance to change, and morality based in loyalty/authority/purity though.
this is possibly (they don't report enough detail for me to say for sure) because being economically right is correlated with being more socially conservative, meaning that this relationship being economically right and bullshit susceptibility only occurs when you compare people at the same level of political orientation (leftists to leftists, right-wing to right-wing).
d) swedish voting patterns are associated with susceptibility to bullshit in particular ways, related to their social and economic orientations, as you might imagine. socially left but economically right voters were among the least susceptible to bullshit. interestingly, voters for a particularly socially and economically left party were among the most susceptible to bullshit.
e) at the most basic correlations level (without getting into more complex analysis, so taking with a grain of salt), susceptibility to pseudo-profound bullshit is correlated with: being receptive to profoundness in general, worse numericity skills, engaging in less cognitive reflection, more tendency toward confirmation bias, being socially conservative, being resistant to change, basing your morality on loyalty/authority/purity, basing your morality on justice and harm (this one surprises me, but is also why we go deeper than just looking at correlations), endorsing more traditional religiosity, being spiritual, being younger, and being less educated.
Notes:
As an important caveat, this study was done in Sweden, and what looks socially and economically left vs. right in Sweden may not map on to your own country that well, especially when it comes to voting patterns. Having frequent conversations with a Danish friend who moved to Australia, her perspective on what politically 'conservative' means changed a lot after seeing what that means here vs. in Denmark.
The general results for left/right should largely hold across the board because those were personality-based results, not specific to country-specific voting patterns and thus should apply broadly (although there may be some more idiosyncratic culture-specific effects).
The results for values should hold pretty much globally, because a ton of the research on moral foundations has been done cross-culturally and specifically came from a cross-cultural lens arguing that psychology focuses way too much on western liberal morality and is missing most of the globe's different moral reasoning and values.
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