Spectra is one of my fav characters of all time, she is so evil, and I love her so much for it, so this is how I'd draw her! I think when she doesn't wanna work to feed on misery she trespasses on funerals ♡

T A R Y N |

in a land full of lambs, I am, and I'll be damned if I don't show my teeth.

*shoves him in your face* LOOK AT MY SON [preesh to @yoteako for the sona/oc template]

You’re looking for something— no, someone, too, aren’t you?

(I can’t comprehend how you understand what’s going on, with your lifeless shell. Craft as you are.)

🌸 I wanna see Misty

she is lording over her domain

you had quite a compelling thought going in your tags of that bridglar gifset about loving something that cannot love you back... it would be a pleasure to hear the rest of what you had to say about it

I don't know that my thoughts on this are fully formed quite yet, but I'll tell you what I'm thinking so far and I'll start on a personal note.

-

I've always been fascinated with mythology and folklore - that fascination informed my artistic practice back when I was properly practising and is a huge part of the reason that I then progressed into the field of history and heritage.

As fascinated as I was, though, I found that I didn't actually believe in any of it which got me thinking - what does inspire that kind of feeling in me? That belief? That sort of religious-level ecstasy?

The simple answer was the great outdoors, the landscape itself.

I ascribed my own personal mythology to the landscape around me and ended up pursuing a literal artistic pilgrimage through key locations in the Highlands near my home back in Scotland which culminated in climbing my own personal 'Holy Mountain'.

(That was literally a decade ago and, let me tell you, my toes still haven't fully recovered from all that hiking!)

-

Which is all to say that when it comes to the idea of loving an entity that cannot love you back, I wonder, now that I've thought more on it, if perhaps it's a matter of perspective and expectation?

Yes, it's sad to think of how much those men would've loved the sea itself and how the sea did not, could not love them back. How it was the sea itself that doomed them, at least in part.

I think a lot about how they possibly could have reconciled that but then I remember my own experiences in the landscape, the love I feel for it and the joy it continues to bring me. And I think perhaps that you just don't and shouldn't love something of that magnitude in the first place for anything else but what it is or with any expectation that it'll love you back.

As I touched on in the tags of that earlier post, most of those men would have been at sea since their childhood/youth and built their entire lives around it, would've known it intimately.

So yes, while the sea is a cruel mistress who could not love them back, I think that there's perhaps a more positive spin to be found here.

That there's perhaps something quite beautiful and profound and, dare I say, holy, in the notion that they would've known full well the unloving, cruel, and capricious nature of the sea and that they would've carried on loving her regardless.

-

I've waffled on long enough now so I'll end on a more historical/Terror-specific note and say that I think there's also a really interesting conversation to be had about colonialism/empire vs the sea/landscape.

Though the men don't love the empire itself per se, their lives have been defined by it and everything they've done within their careers has served it in some way. Yet at the end of the day, it is just another entity that, for lack of a better phrase, doesn't love them back, doesn't care for them at all.

The key distinction to be made here, I think, is one of 'can't' vs 'won't'.

It's sad that the sea doesn't love or care for you, yes, but that's only because the sea is a natural entity that cannot love or care for anything. Think of how, despite it all, the love still endures for Peglar and there is at least something approaching closure for him as result. Even as he's dying he still loves Bridgens and he still loves the sea, even after all it's put him through.

To live your life, however willingly, in service of an entity like colonialism/empire is another thing entirely though. That's a man-made entity that doesn't care for you not because it can't but because, quite frankly, it doesn't fucking want to. An entity that had the choice and the power to care for you and chose not to. Think of James Clark Ross, for example, and the way his face drops when he realises that, despite everything that's happened and everything they've given in service of it, the Admiralty and the Empire still care more about finding the Passage than finding the men lost to it.

Now that's a tragedy!

family outing :)

me: yeah i didn't project too badly onto taob haha *sees a quote from taob randomly on a tiktok webweave about girlhood*

I found pictures of fluffy when she was but a wee baby and am sharing them with people like a proud parent

Back when I was thirteen or fifteen, I named my darling meowmer after whatever Google said was a girl's name meaning “Killer”. It was the strategy of an uncreative edgster who did not make the connection between the chosen first name and the other, inherited names I was giving him.

Behold my son, Killer Hunter Descent-From-Fire.

would you believe me if i told you this is the one thing that domino-effect’d my entire personality

Now, that was a problem.

"The long-forgotten roof balcony somewhere at the quietest part of the castle was the perfect place to spend some time without prying eyes. The perfect place for, say, covered rebellion meet up. But there's the nuance. It would be the perfect place, if the Titan-damned emperor's nephew didn't came to exactly the same idea about it miraculosly at the same date as them. As if he's actually suspecting something and is trying to oversee treason. But that's probably too much credit for him. He's hardly the improvising type, that obedient little prince. Still, the balcony was occupied, and maybe there were spying bugs (and possibly the snarkiest of the castle's vivarium) being planted right now, so Head Witch Darius decided to work proactively and outspy the emperor's spy first by sending through the closed doors the tiniest abomination he could manage without losing direct control over it's sight and motions. ...the Golden Guard was standing by the balcony rim and staring in the evening sky. Otherwhise than that he was doing absolutely nothing. Not that was enough for dropping vigilanse, though, even if it seemed that no spying bugs ot spells were planted yet. And indeed, a few minutes later he finally turned away from the rim. Only to sit down cross-legged on the cobbled floor, the artificial staff being placed at hand nearby. The cobbled floor in question was very dusty. Gross. Meanwhile the Guard took of his helmet, and that was slightly more gross, because the face underneath was unmistakebly beaten up. The right cheek was swollen, with black eye as the icing of the cake. Alright, it's not like he was concerned or anything, but Darius still thought that the injury was intriguing, due to it location and size. One could guess that it came somewhere from endless scout training (and any witch or demon knows that scout training sessions in the Emperor's coven are not mild at all), but even while punching your opponent in the face is not something new, it's considered weird - kind of unprofessional - to strike straight in the eye. Even then, how do you exactly punch a scout in the eye when they are masked? The mask issue remains with conjecture that the bruise was gifted from some criminal on the mission, too. So, the funny conclusion - had the Golden Guard, while unhelmeted, no less, irked someone in the castle to the state of fist-shaking rage and finally faced the consequences of his own arrogance? The beaten up in question wasn't giving any hints about personality of the one who did it, though. He just gingerly touched his cheek, and then suddenly pulled off one of his gloves and turned it inside out while reaching with the other hand for his staff. "I wonder if this counts as excessive use of magic." And here was the irony: "Well, no one will see that anyways, so..."

The Guard tightened the hand on the staff in concentration while it glowed in red, and soon it conjured small cubes of ice in the glove. As always with artificial magic, without a spell circle, or any circling motion at all.

It was honestly weird to watch. Were there any restrictions on the amount of spent spells in this thing? Probably, if there was an implication of "excessive use of magic".

…Actually this information could be quite in handy if the rebels would clash with the Emperor's right hand someday. Hopefully not. But still. Maybe this whole spying thing had a point after all, because before this moment all what Darius had got was some skygasing and then a weird black eye on weared-out teenage face, which wasn't a lot. Although he must admit, he was intrigued. This was very much not his mentor, the predecessor certainly outgamed the descendant, but it was interesting to watch the youngster in his normal behavior without the bratty antics and formal etiquet - a rare sight indeed. Besides, it wasn't difficult to keep control on one small abomination while attending the paperwork in his private quarters, so it's not like he's wasting a lot of energy.

The iced glove was pressed on the bruise for a few minutes, and, when it was probably too cold to keep, was put into crook of the shoulder inside the white cape. The Guard layed his cheekbone on top of it with an almost blissfull expression. Huh. The swelling must be pretty painfull, if such reaction. The probably dirty glove on the face was still a disgusting sight, but at least it was turned inside out, so Darius must give him at least that, if not the credit for creativity about the whole makeshifted compress thing."

i finished narrenturm, and strangely enough, it felt like i and the story were in sync. just when i was beginning to feel bored, it picked up. just when i was feeling overwhelmed with action, it slowed down. just as i felt i wished something magical would happen, it did, and just as when i felt a need to return to the mundane, it did. a “wish and you will receive” reading experience!

POV: Driver's Ed was boring but you have fun pens and you're a TMA enjoyer

(taken at home with my faux blacklight because it reacts in fun ways)

why do you talk about hating ihiap so much 😭😭 its not even bad

if my fics are my kids ihiap is the problematic oldest child.

There are so many plot holes and things that were written impulsively and i dont like the chapter lengths and just stupid details and I hate how i wrote azula and its a mess.

So am I actually going to sit down and fucking play dao or am I just going to rotate my blorbos and ocs around in my head and put them into situations and not get out of bed bc I’m too busy thinking about playing dao.