please stop posting web weaving without citing the quotes and pictures you're including!!
If you originally came across the quote or picture unattributed, it's typically very easy to find the source. For quotes, if you type in the text into Google bracketed by a quotation mark on both sides (for example, if you were trying to find the infamous Richard Siken quote you would type in: "Someone has to leave first this is a very old story") you can typically find the source!
Finding the source is great, because you should also read the quote in context! Not only is this an awesome way to discover new poetry/music/etc, but it's also a way to filter out quotes that aren't appropriate for your theme.
Maybe the quote you found seems PERFECT for your favorite ship. But when you read it in context of the rest of the source material, it's actually about the author's relationship with race in America or his relationship with his abusive parents. You want to be working in conversation with the quote when you include it with a collection of other quotes/pictures/etc, but to do that you need to know what the quote is actually saying and respect the author's intended meaning. And do to that, you need to read it in context.
Now as far as pictures - photos, illustrations, shots from film, you name it - you also need to find the source. You shouldn't be reposting art from independent artists unless the artist has explicitly said that it is okay to do so. But even pictures that have wide distribution should still be credited.
I think web weaving posts can be a fun way to explore themes and topics while incorporating different types of media you find interesting and enjoy. In the same vein, it's also a great way to find new suggestions for songs, poems, books, and other pieces of art that are relevant to themes you're drawn towards. But to truly engage with these pieces of art in conversation with each other, you need to give them the bare minimum amount of respect by giving citations.
Over 6 years ago, Technoblade and Etoiles played together on United UHC. Although they never got to meet each other on the QSMP, it's nice to see that they already had some nice banter and a fun dynamic developing during the brief time they knew each other. Here are some highlights from the video where they played together!
Subscribe to Technoblade! Technoblade's United UHC video
[ Part 1 || Part 2 || Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]
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Technoblade: Bonjour, mis amis! (Hello, my friends!) Oh god, we already have a zombie on us. No! It's targeting me 'cuz I have subs!
Etoiles: Excellent teammates.
Technoblade: Do trees spawn in these worlds?
Etoiles: [Laughing at a screenshot of Technoblade saying "deforestation has gotten pretty bad"]
Technoblade: It's gotten pretty bad, man. What is this?
Etoiles: B-bonjour.
Technoblade: Stop speakin' Chinese.
Etoiles: You're the best Skywars player, dude. That's why.
Technoblade: That doesn't mean much.
Technoblade: Oh my god, I found diamonds!
Etoiles: Oh, whoa.
Technoblade: Subscribe to Technoblade! I'm suddenly a UHC god.
Etoiles: Oh, I got diamonds too! :D
Technoblade: ...Wow, way to ruin my moment. Wow. Can I just have this one moment?
Etoiles: Yeah.
Technoblade: Does everything- does everything need to be a competition? First diamonds I've ever mined in Minecraft.
Etoiles: Let's redo it, Techno. Let's say I don't have diamonds. I don't have diamonds, you have-
Teammate: I found diamonds!
Technoblade: Oh my god.
Technoblade: I have seven diamonds! And I'm not saying that to one-up you, but- I mean I am, but I mean I'm- I'm also tellin' the truth.
Teammate: Nobody knows which one of you guys is the mole.
Technoblade: Yeah, that's gonna be very awkward.
Etoiles: Maybe Technoblade is already-
Technoblade: I'm right behind you.
Etoiles: Technoblade is already saying to his friend-
Technoblade: I'm already in the Mole chat, plannin' your death.
Etoiles: Like, I'm kind of scared of Technoblade, actually.
Technoblade: I'm not even good, why would you be scared of me?
Etoiles: Because you're the King of Bedwars.
Technoblade: Alright, ok, ok, so here's how it works- I get paid per episode, right? So I'm not gonna betray you on Episode 2.
Etoiles: [Laughs]
Technoblade: Now let me enchant.
Etoiles: I'm so bad at hearing sound because when I'm hearing lava-
Technoblade: Nah, it's 'cuz the sounds are in French, isn't it?
One September day, B. Wooster found out about Jeeves' disappearance from Aunt Dahlia's telegram.
Early summer of 1940. Bertram Wooster was completing his studies at an aviation school. At the same time his faithful valet, Jeeves, temporarily went to the service of the already mentioned relative at Brinkley Court and became the second jewel in the staff of servants besides the highly talented cook Anatole.
Due to the straitened financial situation of Uncle Tom, who complained more and more about the increasing taxes, the dearest aunt had to take forced measures and fire a few servants. She wanted to make a small sacrifice, and it might have been enough if one day her stingy husband had not cut the already small wages of the remaining servants. Many of them had applied for dismissal after that, and they were quite understandable.
This radical decision, although to a lesser extent, also affected Jeeves. Nevertheless, he continued to be a professional. He fulfilled his basic duties and often helped her, and her old friends get out of troubles.
Within a few months of Jeeves' work, they had become friends. Bertram almost felt like a third wheel in this idyll when he came to visit and boast of his achievements. Aunt Dahlia treasured her new valet and his unrivalled intelligence, and often jokingly promised in letters to her nephew that Jeeves would be returned safe and sound.
That was why she was seriously worried when Jeeves went missing. One clear day in early September, an elderly relative had let him go to London on his own business. In addition to this, it was Jeeves' duty to check on their good old Berkeley Mansions flat from time to time and keep it clean, so he planned to finish his business by evening and stay in the city overnight. He was supposed to return early the next morning. But that never happened. Not in two days. Not in three.
That night London was bombarded.
Something seemed to snap and collapse inside Bertie when he learnt that the search for Jeeves had been fruitless. Neither his relatives nor his club could shed any light on his mysterious disappearance.
The dark thoughts from which Bertram had fled during the day caught up with him at night. He would toss and turn on the hard bed, thinking of Jeeves's fate and replaying happy memories of their past, and in the daytime, tired and broken, he would give his duty to his country.
The whole situation seemed strange and unreal to him. The only thing that was found out for sure was that no one appeared in the apartment that miraculously survived the monstrous raids that day. It was dusty.
A couple of months had passed since the tragedy that divided Bertie's life into before and after. The war continued. He was learning to adjust to his new reality.
Sometimes he managed to carve out some free time and pop into London for a bit. The city where he had lived more than a third of his life was in ruins. The familiar places where he used to meet his friends and have a good time were empty.
Your humble servant avoided going into that very flat. There were too many vivid memories of that place, which painfully and mercilessly squeezed Bertram Wooster's poor skull. Indeed, the most precious person in his life had been living at his side all that time.
But still, as the sole and responsible owner of his property, he had to overpower himself. He had to go in and make sure that everything was all right. And one such day Bertie found himself there, in their former cozy home.
He walked in and looked around the living room: a layer of dust covering almost everything, furniture wrapped in covers, and only a few of his own things that he had left or forgotten here. The piano was covered with a cloth. Unbearably quiet and lifeless. There was nobody else to keep order here, nobody else's hand to create the home comfort. Sorrowful feelings pressed upon his chest.
He looked all over the flat. Almost all of it. There was only one room left to check.
After a moment's hesitation, Bertram pulled himself together and went into Jeeves's room. He had only glimpsed it from inside before. It was modest and not as spacious as his bedroom. Wooster sat down on the perfectly made bed, looking at what little was left of his dear friend, guide, and philosopher. His eyes rested on the various books dusting the shelves and cupboards.
He recognized one of them. It was the volume of Spinoza's writings he had given Jeeves for his birthday. No doubt Jeeves had read it all. As the rest of the books in the room. Bertie remembered his politely grateful smile and how he had clearly decided that this fellow deserved a whole library of those Spinozas.
He got out of bed. The code of the Woosters did not allow him to touch other people's things (even if those things belonged to a man who might never come back into his life), but something outweighed the young master's unwavering principles that day.
He didn't even notice how he left the flat with the book in his hands.
Of course, this sort of talisman invariably occupied a place in his suitcase. Though he had endeavored to handle the book with care, it had become tattered with the passage of time. Bertram often held it in his hands, flicked through the pages, ran his eyes over the neat pencil notes of its former owner. It calmed him a little in the most difficult moments of his pilot practice. He didn't understand anything about philosophy, but he treasured this book too damn much.
When they reunited, they were about a year away from the end of the war. The house with their previous flat was in a state of emergency damaged by the recent bombing raids, so Jeeves looked for a new flat for them while his employer was still undergoing treatment.
It happened some time later after their move-in. Jeeves was doing his household chores while the young master followed him around and chattered about anything that came into his head. It would have annoyed anyone, but not Jeeves.
You see, he had been abroad for a long time. However, he was not on holiday. Against his will, he was assigned important tasks and missions which he had to fulfil if he did not want to lose his freedom, his successful career, his reputation, his family, and friends. The special promise of making one particular person's life unbearable also left him no choice.
Every day, Jeeves felt like he was sitting on a powder keg: at any moment, a surprise inspection could come through the doors of his headquarters. A highly undesirable event for a man who kept fake documents, weapons, and encrypted data transmission devices in his flat. But all possible escape routes had been carefully worked out and memorized: Jeeves was always prudent. Otherwise, he had to have time to take a special pill before he found himself tied to a chair in a small interrogation room.
Keeping his charm and politeness, he was effective in getting the right information from the right people. His knowledge of psychology and accumulated experience of working with people helped him in this.
Jeeves' missions were rarely close to failure. His life depended on it.
The slightest mistake could have been fatal to him. Of course, he had learned much about the country during his training to pass for a typical Frenchman. His French had been practically flawless even before, which only made his life easier. But still somewhere in the back of his mind was the fear that he would be exposed for the smallest inaccuracy.
Jeeves lived under a false identity with a fake life story. He changed outwardly and inwardly. His gait, the way he spoke, his body language, his facial expressions. He had complete control over his body. Especially his gaze, which could tell a lot about his thoughts. It was exhausting.
After a long time of living in this way, he began to have trouble sleeping: he slept very little and sensitively or could not fall asleep at all.
He rarely had any dreams during the restless hours when he was able to fall asleep. Sometimes he had nightmares. But they were not about him. They were about Mr Wooster. Same scenario: church, flowers, closed coffin. Then it would slowly open from the inside. And Jeeves would wake up in a cold sweat.
On sleepless nights, he was also tormented by thoughts of his former employer. Where was he now? Was he all right? Was he even alive? How did he feel about his disappearance? Would he want to see him again...?
Jeeves felt his mind, which he relied on in the most critical situations, begin to fail.
Meeting his employer again and doing the household chores for him, he felt himself slowly getting his head in order. He was enjoying the much-anticipated company of Mr Wooster. It soothed him and made him feel at home.
Jeeves opened the closet to put the ironed clothes in it. The young master standing next to him had been lost in the chatter and missed the moment when he should have pulled him back. In the next moment Jeeves had pulled the ruined book out of the wardrobe the same way as he pulled out foreign clothes. By the title of the book, he thought at first that his master was interested in serious literature. But on closer look and leafing through the book, he realized that it was his own.
Bertie watched it silently with his eye wide open. He couldn't just get rid of it, but at the same time he was ashamed to return a book in such a terrible condition to its owner. He planned to buy the exact same one soon, but until then, this volume of essays would be safely hidden away. But here his innocent secret was revealed. Jeeves looked at him with a silent question in his eyes.
He tried to justify himself, but this particular Wooster was a bad liar. Especially when the pent-up feelings were starting to overwhelm him. Jeeves often let his employer fool him about little things, but they both knew very well that it was actually impossible to do this. A couple of precise laconic remarks and B. Wooster found himself disarmed. He took a breath of air and began to speak.
Jeeves listened patiently to his poor master with a mask of calmness pulled over his face and dared not interrupt.
He was sorry. He was deeply sorry for the pain he had caused Mr Wooster and his dear people by his forced departure. However, Jeeves spoke little and reluctantly about what he had been doing in recent years and did not tell anyone about the very reasons for his disappearance. This information could have caused a lot of trouble.
And Bertram realized it. His Jeeves could not just disappear for no reason, he was sure of it. But sometimes, in the deep sleepless night, a wild guess would cross his weary mind. What if Jeeves had run away, had simply abandoned him? Of course, Bertie had scolded himself for such thoughts in the mornings then. And today when Jeeves prepares breakfast for him, reminds him to take his medicine, and helps him to dress, that idea seems to him on the verge of sanity. But then he was quite capable of finding irrefutable evidence in all sorts of little things. At that time, he did not know what to think: the search for the injured had ended, Jeeves remained on the list of missing persons.
Bertram stood before him and could find no more words. But words were no longer needed. Jeeves looked at him with bright, penetrating eyes and the silence that settled in the room was filled with peace. Jeeves was truly touched. He felt a huge boulder fall from his soul.
It seemed now, as his employer lowered his head dejectedly and hid his wet eyes from him, they had the perfect moment to dot the «i».
It's been a long day.
Of course, this book stayed in their new flat and became a symbol of something important for them. Bertram, Jeeves' poor love, had indeed taken desperate measures then.
However, Jeeves pointed out that such measures would no longer be necessary.
My fav thing about TAZ is that any aspect out of context sounds fucking bonkers.
Like, in the balance finale there's a scene in which Garfield (who is very specifically never described visually bc most people imagine him as like. The Lasagna Cat. Who in this universe is the most powerful warlock in the realm and also has a hobby of cloning people, which is great for the one character that got forced into haunting a mannequin) is summoned by an alien spaceship that runs on the power of friendship so he could beat up some flashing balls. In D&D.
And that was just. Such a normal scene in the narrative. No one blinked an eye. I would like to bow down to Griffins clear unmatched talent for making me feel such big emotions over ridiculous shit like a goddamned umbrella or a regular ass pair of jeans or the idea of a taco recipe.
I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!
Okay so honestly I have been very very inconsistent over the years with just disappearing for periods of time due to various things 😂 So it probably seemed pretty normal to most people.
But it felt different on my side, so I'm excited to be back in business.
I took a month long hiatus! 31 days of not drawing digital art.
Its not something I talk about on here? But I've been suffering from some serious long term Art Burnout for.... a really really long time. Long enough that I should've taken a break probably years ago. It finally got so bad that I could barely draw. I was scared to do it (cause it always looked "bad" in my eyes [i'll come back to that]) and doing it was exhausting and disheartening.
I talked it over with somebody and realized that the fear and anger and frustration I felt towards my own artwork was uh. Not Normal or Healthy. And I finally committed to taking a real break for once.
I still drew a little bit by hand? Traditional art has always felt like it has lower stakes for me (i don't often share it online, and sometimes I don't even share it with friends) so I did some of that when I felt like it. But Digital art was completely off the table.
I had put such an immense pressure on myself to make my digital art perfect, to make as much of it as quickly as possible to satisfy something. It wasn't fun anymore. I'm proud of what i've made over the years! But for a long time now the stuff I've been making was made while hating every second of making it. With some rare exceptions.
I hated my art! It was a combination of Perfectionism, taking in too many external expectations, and the burnout. If you hate doing something its kinda hard to love it even when you want too lol. It wasn't "Bad" in the sense that the quality was low and it was ugly! It was "Bad" in the sense that it was unhealthy for me to keep doing it at that point in time.
I'm glad to report though, that with my hiatus officially over as of Wednesday last week: I am once again. In Love. With doing art, and being an artist :)
I put off taking a break for years cause I was scared that taking a break would mean that I would never achieve all the things I wanted to do with art. I was scared it was a stupid and lazy thing to do that would mean I'd never achieve my dreams. And Also even though I kinda hated drawing, I also loved making art. Its a weird duality that I can't even really explain??? I hated it but I also loved it. I wanted it but I also wanted to run from it. It wasn't until I was more mature and had more clarity and insight (and unfortunately also until the problems got worse) that I was finally able to let go of those fears and just do it.
And I'm really really glad I did. It was everything I needed. And I hope to strike a better balance in the future with art. Taking more breaks when I need them, or just when other things have my attention like reading or Video games (Some star rail got played during this time xD)
From the outside things probably aren't going to be that different?? At this point I don't really have any sure plans to post anything I've been drawing since my Hiatus ended. I might or I might not xD I'm still a hobbyist artist taking things at her own pace, but I hope that it shows how much happier I am :)
Whumptober 2023 is being officially put to rest by this post btw! I was in major burnout when that event started, and I'm ready to just, move on from all the past expectations I'd shoved on my shoulders. If I feel like filling any of the prompts or going back to any of the ideas I'd come up for it I will! But I'm not going to worry about doing it unless the desire sets in.
Thanks to everybody who's been so kind to me throughout my time on here as an artist! Ya'lls tags and screaming and kind words, the fanfic, the asks and the responses? Its been fantastic :) You guys have made me laugh, smile, and cry tears of joy. I hope from here that things only get better and sweeter! And if I have bad days again, that's okay too.
Here's to 2024 and whatever it may bring ya'll :D 🎉🎉✨✨🧡💜
Man why is writing so hard today? I literally sat down at my computer and typed for a solid hour and a half and it was utter garbage. But the more I looked at it the less I could figure out how to fix it! So I pulled up PS and decided to draw instead but every image just flew out of my head I couldn't do it and really I should be writing and man my eyes hurt. My whole face hurts kinda, actually, but my eyes really hurt and it's so hard to focus and it shouldn't be this hard and-- Jesus Christ it's 1am and I only got 3 hours of sleep last night.
les mis fic writers who write really really great stories about the amis where political organizing is one of/the main plot (especially stories that feature such realistic organizing experiences) i want to give you all a kiss!!!!! many kisses!!!!!!
Would Frank's fiestiness be a factor on what REALLY sealed the attractiveness with him for Eddie?? I imagine the big goon would just have the biggest lovestruck smile on his face after being called a "clueless loon" by Frank. Can't even focus on the words being said because he's just admiring how shiny Frank's hair looks that morning.
Oh absoLUTELY. Eddie’s hardly even fazed half the time by Franks weird unnecessary hatred for him 😂 I mean if anything Eddie seeing Frank in a good fist fight with a criminal trying to run definitely god him all red in the face, and seeing that on a smaller scale in the workplace has definitely given him some butterflies
ruthlessly deleting old 2021/2022 posts (not by me) from my dean studies tag like *click* un-incorporating that from my beliefs system! also the way SO many posts have me like ok uh-huh good aaand then say one completely wrong thing that loses me. it's so many posts.
just a quick ask to tell u it makes me super happy seeing the detail u go into when pointing out stuff u like about other people's art of ur ocs :3 it's so rare to see but it's so so motivating!! <3
Thank you! I don't take any interest for my art for granted, and if someone goes through the trouble of drawing my characters for me, I feel like trying to write a proper response is the least I can do. For a visually oriented person, receiving gift/fan art is a huge deal, it means someone considered my goobers worth their time and effort, they've probably been thinking about them more than a little and found them inspiring in a way or another, and I find that terribly flattering. It's extremely fun and interesting to see other people's takes on them. And I've drawn stuff for people as well, I know how nice and rewarding it feels to receive a response that is longer than a word or two. Positive comments like that can linger in people's minds for a long time, at least for me they do.
you ever wonder if the Glamrocks's face tracking acts up when they look at Glamrock-Freddy,
like they'll look at his face, and the recognition will register as Freddy, but their systems for whatever reason or another think that there is a face overlapped on Freddy's
do you think they see two small squares next to him, at his side, roughly child sized, but no one is physically there....
right...?