the silmarillion is wild because you read it and you're like huh okay, and then you read lotr and it turns out everyone's just going around doing their own thing while the surviving elves are living through the final chapters of a post-apocalyptic horror story
rivendell's a pretty chill place, right? everyone gets along splendidly. dream retirement home et cetera. solid chance the guy you're having afternoon tea with has either survived or personally committed war crimes. also the reason it's so chill is elrond has this magic ring that makes it so the whole place exists slightly outside normal time
galadriel's been around since the beginning, like, for pretty much all of middle-earth's history you understand, she has Seen it all and despite what you may have been led to believe is at all times this close to snapping. also the reason lothlorien is so chill is she has this magic ring that makes it so the whole place exists slightly outside normal time
i can't emphasize enough how much of a post-apocalyptic horror story thranduil lives in. homeland destroyed and half his people massacred. has fucken sauron in his backyard and the spawn of the primordial beast that eats light puttering about on his lawn. a dragon lives next door. does NOT have a magic ring and is therefore obliged to rule over his murderforest in normal time
just so we're all on the same page here, legolas' day job before joining the fellowship was to hunt the spawn of the primordial beast that eats light and it's not like, a big deal or anything. he just has to do it. he's used to it.
'elves are leaving middle-earth and it's so sad :(' they have ptsd samwise.
What would a Yankee Candle go for in ancient Greece?
tbh the most confusing thing about it to them would probably be the glass that the candle is contained in. They might try to buy information about glass from you.
Yeah I should’ve clarified (pun intended). They had glass in the ancient world especially in Rome and Egypt but it was basically super heated sand and color additives put in a mold and often looked opaque and kinda lumpy. Even if it was blown like it was in some regions it wouldn’t have looked like modern glass.
Clear blown glass like you’d see a modern scented candle contained in wasn’t invented until the late Middle Ages and certainly wasn’t mass produced until the 1500s and even then places like Venice that had knowledge of these techniques literally forbid their glassmakers from leaving their city or region so other people couldn’t make it, forcing artificial scarcity and making it a very expensive material.
So if you showed a yankee candle to an Ancient Greek, especially one from a city or something, they’d be like burning scented wax okay not something I’d do but it makes sense. Also how the fuck is that glass transparent.
Like imagine if someone brought you something weird but understandable contained in a material that they said was made out of wood and you could tell that it’s clearly made out of wood they’re not lying about that but it was also completely transparent and see through with no visible flaws. That’s about the level of weird we’re talking about here.
Sokka is captured aboard Zuko's ship. At some point during Tea & Interrogation with Iroh and Zuko, he lets slip that he's the son of Chief Hakoda.
“Chief Hakoda?” the Prince of the Kill It With Fire Nation repeats, like his brain is as stupid as his face. Or like he just realized he’s taken a high-value hostage, redeemable for one (1) ransom against an enemy leader.
“Did I say Chief Hakoda?” Sokka laughs, nervously. “I meant, ah—”
“Shut up, peasant,” the prince shouts. And then sort of… chokes on his own words, getting redder and redder.
---
“Perhaps a break, Prince Zuko?” says Uncle, like this is… like this is the tea-time social he’s set the table for.
Zuko is in the hallway with the door slammed behind him before he can think. Thinking. Thinking is a thing he needs to do, and Uncle’s proverbs only ever leave his thoughts feeling twisted around, and—
And that is not a peasant that sacrificed himself, to give the Avatar a chance to flee. That’s a fellow prince, or whatever the Water Tribe would call him.
---
“So,” Sokka says, spinning the teacup between his cuffed hands contemplatively. “How much poison would you say is in here? And what kind?”
The old man is sputtering indignantly, but Sokka is very seriously considering taking his first sip. If it’s laced with something to loosen his tongue, well, can’t get much worse there. It’s not like he knows where his dad is. Or anything useful. Certainly not more useful than handing the Fire Nation the son of their fleet’s leader. And if it’s something deadly, well...
He doesn’t know what his dad would do or give to get him back. But it wouldn’t be good, for the war or the world or their tribe.
He figured he’d die, when he’d shouted at Katara to go, take him and go. He hadn’t realized how much worse this could get. Was getting. Because the son and heir of Fire Lord Burn Them All was out in the hallway, thinking.
---
Zuko thinks. About what his own father would do, if he were to receive a ransom letter. The disappointment. The… repercussions.
---
“You’re what?” Sokka asks.
“I am releasing you,” His Shoutiness repeats, through clenched and grinding teeth.
“Huh,” Sokka says, and takes another sip from his cup, because oh, this is hallucinogenic tea. Good stuff. “Care to explain that?”
---
No, Zuko wants to shout. But this is the fellow son of a world leader. Zuko hasn’t had many friends, and he’s not looking to add the Water Prince to that atrophied number, but.
But he could understand.
“You stood and fought when you could not win, for a cause you believed in,” Zuko said, and he didn’t know why Uncle suddenly looked so pained. “I will not demand trinkets from your father for your return. If he hears of this, it will not be from me. You will be released at the nearest neutral port.”
---
Like an undersized fish, Sokka did not say.
“That is… very honorable of you,” Sokka says, and doesn’t know why the prince looks like he’s been gutted.
#the nearest neutral port just so happens to be kyoshi island #why say aang and katara what are YOU doing here??
Zuko is grinding his teeth SO HARD he did not come here to start an international incident and he WON'T start one stop looking at him like that Uncle he is doing something Honorable the Southern Prince said so and so help him he is going to KEEP BEING HONORABLE while the other boy is watching even as the Avatar creeps closer and closer one little side step at a time looking all curious and hopeful
like an actual child
THE BENDING PRODIGY SISTER IS THANKING HIM REPEAT ZUKO IS IN THE SIGHTS OF THE BENDING PRODIGY SISTER
she is smiling at him and sounds incredibly sincere
(and also confused)
and he KNOWS what "sincere" smiles from sisters mean
abort abort abort
maybe he can get his ship away from here before she "accidentally" sinks it
(clearly her bending fumbling at his ship was a clever disguise, if she'd REALLY been that bad she'd have been CAPTURED, had she been MOCKING his crew? clearly that was the only--WHY IS THE AVATAR STANDING AT HIS ELBOW)
No really WHY is the unfathomably powerful (literal child) right next to his elbow and GRINNING up at him
And talking about how Zuko is a prince. And Sokka is a prince.
(the sister is laughing behind her hand REPEAT the sister is laughing abort abort abort--)
And since there's two princes and an Avatar here on this neutral island why don't they have
why don't they have
peace talks
"I will make tea!" Uncle beams and instead of using that as cover to retreat back to their ship goes to do so IN THE VILLAGE and Zuko
Zuko can't leave him alone with these people
So there he is. On Kyoshi Island. Incapable of admitting in front of Prince Sokka and Princess Katara and Avatar, The that he might
maybe
not have the ability to create legally binding agreements like a real prince should
which is about when Zhao shows up. And you know who doesn't have the legal right to INTERRUPT peace talks?
Motherturtleducking Zhao
which is to say
he is sincerely sorry, Father, for the overstep of his position
and rest assured no formal promises were made
but please see the enclosed First Draft treaty between the Fire Nation and the United Southern Water Tribes
(as well as a small request for reparations to Kyoshi Island, for peace talk hosting and minor fire damage)
And rest further assured that he has taken the joint advice of Avatar Aang and General Iroh
And will be traveling with the Avatar to facilitate communication with the Dragon Throne
Until such time as the Fire Lord commands him not to
#anyway that's how Zuko spends all of season one on Team Avatar #The Fire Nation they encounter: are. are you a traitor #Zuko: The Father Lord has been fully appraised of the situation and I am under his direct command let us pass or YOU are the traitors #Ozai. meanwhile. #takes until season two to start regretting his habit of burning his son's correspondence on sight (via muffinlance)
theres too many pokemon games where you play as a kid whos full of life and full of potential. there needs to be a pokemon game where you play as a college dropout who lives in a shitty apartment
your starter pokemon are trubbish, rattata and glameow. which symbolise the trash you keep forgetting to take out, the rats living in your walls and the stray cat you keep trying to befriend but it keeps hissing at you.
you guys dont get it its not supposed to be dark and edgy its supposed to be living in a mundane setting and slowly rediscovering the wonder in the world by going on a journey with a magical trash bag that is your friend, its about love and recovery and coping with the stress of your adult life with your friend who is made of sentient garbage
You get home from work. Finally. The sun's already set outside your apartment window. At least your apartment has a window.
You discard most of your work uniform in the corner with the other laundry and click on the TV before landing in your couch with a heavy sigh. The blue light of the TV floods the otherwise dark room.
"Joining us today for an exclusive interview is Red, four time Pokemon League Champion, who also famously disbanded criminal organization Team Rocket at least twice! Thank you so much for tuning in."
Pokemon league champion, huh? You think to yourself. You used to want that. A child's dream - it was silly, really....
You'd heard of Red - of course you have, you don't live under a rock - but this was the first time seeing them up close, no filter. They looked tired. They actually looked about your age.
"Now Red," the reporter continued, "You've already told us about your travels through the world, your experiences as Champion, and your fight against Team Rocket and similar criminal organizations. I know we're almost out of time but there's one last thing we'd like to hear from you - do you have any words for the future generation of Pokemon trainers? Any advice for those just at the start of their journey?"
The Champion waited a moment before answering: "Yes. I meet a lot of people. A lot of people who used to want to be trainers. And I understand, it's not for everyone. But, people say 'Oh, you're still going at your age?' or 'Oh, I wanted to when I was younger,' or 'Oh, I couldn't now, I'm too old.'" Red shook their head sadly. "These people are my age, maybe even younger. They're wrong. It doesn't matter how old you are and it never did. It doesn't matter if you never got a Pokemon from the local professor at ten years old. It's not just for children. It's for everyone. The bond between people and Pokemon is not something you miss out on just because you had to grow up."
Red pauses again, and you realize you're paying more attention to the program than you thought you were.
"Pokemon are everywhere. The world is filled with magic. It's never too late."
"It's never too late..." you repeat under your breath. Something about the Champion's words clicked inside your brain. The world is full of magic....
As if on cue, sounds from within your apartment catch your attention: Rustling in your garbage can, scrabbling inside the wall, clawing at your window.
Cautiously you approach your trash can. It smells terrible, but then again it always does. You slowly lift the lid, and the rubbish inside shifts to reveal a green bag with white eyes. You knew that Trubbish were born from waste and preferred unsanitary environments, but you didn't think it'd been that long since you took the trash out.
The Pokemon shuffles to try and hide and knocks the bin over in doing so, spilling itself out onto the floor. You chuckle a bit.
"I guess now the trash can take itself out," you joke. The Trubbish seems upset by the quip. "Oh no, no, it's ok," you correct yourself, trying to spare its feelings. You find this creature, born of rubbish against its will, to be relatable. After all, you didn't ask to be in this trash heap either.
"It's ok," you repeat, more softly this time. "I'm. I'm trash too."
The stench from the trash can starts to dissipate as the Trubbish's... bag ties? ears? perk up at the attempted sympathy.
[A bond has been formed.]
~~~
[INVESTIGATE WALL]
You'd always blamed the noises coming through the walls on the neighbors, but this is too close to deny: it simply isn't a human-made noise. You locate a crack in the wall that you hadn't noticed before. The sound is getting louder. The sound is getting closer.
A piece of drywall crumbles away. You have just long enough to think Damn, I'm not getting my deposit back, before a very startled Rattata leaps through the newly made hole and bowls you over. You land badly on your ankle and let out a cry of pain, crashing to the floor.
That's definitely sprained... you think, holding your injured foot as you lie there in temporary shock. The Rattata seems apologetic. It vanishes back into the wall for a moment.
You swear. At least you have a compression bandage in your first aid kit. While you contemplate how best to stand without putting yourself in further pain, the Pokemon reappears, carrying a small blue fruit in its mouth. It drops the fruit beside you and rolls it towards you with a paw.
An Oran Berry, you recognize. Of course - Pokemon eat berries when they're hurt. Touched by the gesture, or perhaps not wanting to hurt the little creature's feelings, you take a bite.
It tastes terrible, but you power through it; you've eaten worse. Either by the berry's healing properties or the Pokemon's kindness, your pain eases a little.
[A bond has been formed.]
~~~
[INVESTIGATE WINDOW]
You go to your window and struggle for a moment to pull up the tattered blinds. You see two glowing eyes in the darkness. A Pokemon? They certainly don't look human, anyways. As a matter of fact, they seem familiar. The impatient scratching continues.
You open the window. A small, cat-like Pokemon hops inside, as if indignant at being kept waiting. You recognize this pokemon by the notch in its ear as the stray Glameow you've been trying to befriend.
It hisses at you. Which, for this particular Pokemon, is typical. As you go to shut the window you notice that it's favoring one of its legs while it walks.
Is it injured? Did it come to you for help? You were pretty certain this pokemon hated you. But, sure enough, you notice a cut on the Glameow's leg as it hops up onto your couch, as if it already lived here.
The Glameow seems to be avoiding eye contact. It occurs to you that it may have had no where else to go. You rummage through your cupboards to try and find a remedy. You remember seeing on the news that lemonade can be used in place of medicine for Pokemon who are injured. Moo Moo Milk is better, but you don't have any. You stopped buying it because it always spoils before you remember to drink it.
You had exactly one can of lemonade left. You crack it open and pour it into a bowl. The Glameow hisses again when you offer it, but soon gives the liquid a sniff before drinking it slowly.
You never realized how quickly Pokemon could heal. After it finishes its drink, it allows you to pat it on the head...
... for about two seconds before it hisses again. Still, the little Pokemon doesn't try to escape. It simply curls up on your couch and falls asleep.
(Please note that this piece is also called Night and Day in several sources, and I cannot find which one is correct. The artist’s own website doesn’t list a title. If anyone sees a definitive source for the title, please share!)
Okay but Mark Watney who survives for a year and a half on Mars completely alone and gets to come home because the entire world chose to put everything aside to save him watching the Hail Mary video logs when they come back to Earth and watching the world do nothing?
Mark Watney watching Ryland Grace have to grapple with the fact that he will die and there is no amount of quick thinking or human help that can save him?
Mark Watney finding out Grace didn't volunteer to go to space and was instead sent as a sacrifice so the rest of them could live and getting fucking pissed on his behalf?
Mark Watney who knows what it is to starve on a foreign planet doing the math about Grace's remaining food supply when he decides to go back to save Rocky?
Mark Watney who realistically knows that there is nothing that can be done but who keeps watching the information come out about a middle school teacher who was probably going to die alone in space and not being able to stop thinking about it?
Mark Watney who had to be asked to stop proposing rescue missions because even if they could get funded, there was very little hope that Grace would still be alive even if they got to him?
Mark Watney with survivors guilt for a mission that he wasn't even on?
Mark Watney asking why me but not him?
I know they're not in the same universe and I know the timelines don't line up but just go with me here.
What i extra love about this silly little two-panel is that canonically this man gets randomly and abruptly shipped to multiple different locations with no warning or explanation by increasingly distressing means. So, such a legitimate response for Ryland in multiple regards.
Not all who wander are lost. However if you see a dark haired dwarven King walk past you for the fourth time in a row, he likely is lost. Very lost. Please show him the way to Bag-end
hilarious how grace is wandering around that aircraft carrier thinking i'm just a guy. meanwhile his security clearance is technically on the same level as the actual eva stratt herself
#phm#in the book he's like#'my office is technically a storage closet. they're gonna kick me out of here when we resupply. i'm about as important as toilet paper.'#man you live on a boat. how many other people on the boat have an office at all.#you're the guy who looks at the paperwork and signs shit that's not worth bothering stratt over#which you can choose to interpret as either not very important or VERY IMPORTANT INDEED.#you're the guy who says 'yeah i think this plan is scientifically feasible'#to which stratt says 'okay my pet scientist says it'll work‚ let's go ahead and pave the sahara.'
eva stratt loved earth so much she killed the closest thing she had to a friend. did ryland grace die? no. not really. but she killed him. do you understand?
i like when eridians describe grace in other-worldly, incorporeal, eldritch ways. that he's beautiful and terrifying at the same time. a horror you can't look away from because you don't want to miss a thing.
you can never get a clear listen to him. his primary sense node is covered in "hair" and the part that isn't is hidden by two crystals that refract sound waves in a pleasing but disorienting way. he covers his body in billowy cloth at all times. not snug and sensible and unobstructive like eridian coverings, but loose and layered, draped and flowing.
the most clear part of him are his internal organs. because yes, the alien's carapace isn't sound-proof. his single heart beats insistingly in his core, his lungs exchanging gas constantly, his long digestive tract always bubbling and contracting. his thorax is packed impossibly tight and it's all moving and singing.
and it shouldn't be possible, with how fragile he is, for that internal pressure to maintain. how does the thin membrane of his external organ (another horror that sends eridians reeling) keep it all contained? his "skin" is so easily pierced, cut, bruised, burnt, how does he not split open under his own mass?
when savior rocky first arrived home and described the environmental needs of his alien, the scientists thought he'd made a mistake in his frantic panic to get everything out. it isn't possible this being lives at such low atmospheric pressure, at half the gravity, and in a gas that's nearly double the weight of ammonia. in a gas so dangerous, so caustic. and if it does then how is it obligately terrestrial like rocky claims? shouldn't it fly or float instead? (and then to see it in the water, learning that it can float or sink at will.)
and this alien has come bearing gifts that will not only save your species but launch it into impossible heights of technological and intellectual advancement. he has discovered the solution to astrophage and bred it to thrive on threeworld and translated his instructions into eridian. he has given your people the complete sum of his people's knowledge, advanced in ways the eridians can't believe and behind in ways that seem ludicrous. and he has given his life for your people to have these things.
he knows how your solar system was formed. he knows how the universe started.
his name means beautiful and generous and relieving.
Was thinking about my other post and how in the book Stratt has to hunt down a scientist and imagine you're Eva Stratt, right, and you are going to some of the best scientists in the best labs in the world and they keep recommending you to this Dr. Ryland Grace and you're trying to figure out which lab or university he must be with and nobody in the field actually knows where he wound up 'after what happenned' they allude, and so you have your guys do their background investigation and track this alleged top molecular biologist down all to find out.....
He's a middle school teacher.
And you're just like....are they all fucking with me?
The relief she must have felt to find out he was shut out of academia and wasn't, like, a bizarre hoax.
titsay
germansingergirl
romaincrisis
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
theartofmadeline
prguitarman
