#ouroborista

[ephemerational]

I wanted to make a handy reference for my friends, so here's that

A lot of work went into this document, and I even went through the trouble of compiling a full 144 character example-chart. Hope you like it!

[verdant-lobotany]

Hi! I just wanted to let you know that your treatise on classpecting, after my first listen to your youtube recording, quickly became my favorite reference for the aspects in particular, and majorly helped with the discovery of my and my boyfriend’s true classpects (we’re sylph of heart (prospit) and knight of blood (derse), respectively). I also wanted to say that said video is also my favorite way to introduce the concept of classpecting to people who have 0 exposure to it. I have a friend watching it right now, and here’s her review so far:

“Actually really liking this so far. It’s presented in a formal and academic manner. I feel like this is a way better intro to the concepts than some fan could give me just infodumping. Like i feel like i’m firmly understanding what they’re saying.”

Thank you so much! That's what I made it for! To structure my own understanding, to stop having to repeat myself by creating a reference work instead, and to give everyone else an anchor that is both reasonably formal and does not require a super in depth thematic understanding of Homestuck's cast. "Formal" doesn't mean "correct" here, everyone's obviously free to disagree with me and many do so quite insightfully, but I think the treatise is a decently rigorous, decently complete and decently clear work of the sort that I'd like to see more of. Really glad it's doing these things and I'm happy to hear that it's helped you in particular. Tell your friend I said hi!

[ephemerational]

A Treatise On Classpecting

Text version: https://ouroborista.neocities.org/articles/Treatise_on_Classpecting.pdfVriska did nothing wrong: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q1Xl1-zStqQMy ...

An audio version of my excessively thorough classpecting guide for those less inclined toward staring at text.

[verdant-lobotany]

A short story involving some deeply unprofessional reporting on recovered data, detailing events plausibly peripheral to an apocalypse, as well as the strange and stressful days of a neurotic staffer employed at a secret lab.

To Remember The Sun

A less than scientific report on the contents of a satellite and the fate of earth

[verdant-lobotany]

Baptism

It has been two years since Collin walked into that lake never to be seen again. We'd heard voices from it for months at that point. Muffled. Luring. Filling the night with a siren's song that does not leave room for true quiet. The cliché thing to say would be that it drove us insane, but it really didn't. At least not often. Some people in the neighbourhood may have lost their minds, but any honest accounting would point to the fact that some people always inevitably lose their minds, unexplainable Lovecraftian bullshit or no. Then there was the lockdown, so all in all I doubt the rate of lunacy in our village was significantly above baseline for the time. No. The consequences of that whisper were far more mundane. It drove you obsessive or it drove you to ignore reality. The second camp could be split in twain again: Into those who were good at it, and those who were not. The former could stay home and pretend like everything was normal, look us dead in the eyes and claim that they didn't hear anything, face twitching only very slightly as they did so. The latter just didn't have it in them. Couldn't commit to the bit. Not for long. They'd get jumpy, lose sleep, lose weight, lose the plot and then, one day, they'd either move away or go on indefinite vacations. The people who did acknowledge what their senses were feeding them were a different story...

Ouroboros Café

Articles, stories and other free and good art by Ouroborista. Rejoice: The fallen sky is clearing.

[verdant-lobotany]

Ouroboros Café

Articles, stories and other free and good art by Ouroborista. The fallen sky is clearing.

"If you’re at all like me, project ideas stack their way to the ceiling all around you. In part figuratively, in part literally, they hold up the firmament of your cognitive environs in load bearing pillars of notes for things that you know you will never get around to. Not due to laziness. Not even because you need to sleep, work and eat occasionally. Even if you never did any of these things, the time would not suffice. Even if you lived eternally as a crumbling ruin of perpetual creative output, chronology would fail to accommodate your humble ambition due to the simple fact that more new ideas are generated in any given length of time than you could finish within that selfsame interval. The piles only ever grow. They have been growing since you learned how to think, shaping your path towards the person you are now and continuing onwards into a nearing sunset where your tomb must inevitably lie at the end of an infuriatingly unfinished life. Actualizing some of the ideas has only made you better at thinking and so the problem compounds. You will never be done, unless a part of you which you value greatly dies. You have to pick your battles, pick your notes, if you don’t want to be an ineffectual purveyor of mental phantasms devoid of substance. That most loathsome of creatures which we call an ideas-guy. You have got to get action and make shit take place." I think this model is a useful step towards that end

[verdant-lobotany]

Dawn Above Dystopia

We ran ashore where the sun tried to vanish Ran though hallways of flickering lights Too old to be fools and too drunk to be cowards Face molded by kisses and fights

Day broke with night and we broke with the idols Strung up by a gossamer thread Strum me a chorus for songs of their histories Notes heavy with bombs and with lead

With billboards, with bills due Remembrances paid to the children left drowning at sea Dark fore the morning and darkness for ages 'Till we set it alight to run free

A mound of detritus, a ruinous rubble The embers of empires sear May busy hands build us a beautiful sunrise For history cannot end here

Dawn Above Dystopia

A poem

[ephemerational]

Getting back into fanfic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43967280/chapters/110551047

The curtains open on Earth C five years after the return of its gods. Behind them, to the audience’s dismay, lies the dead body of someone who was supposed to be immortal, and you have no idea what that means. Jane Crocker is gone, and all the smiles suddenly look a whole lot faker.

Gears stuck in place for far too long begin to turn again as politics, love and unresolved trauma swirl together in the dark puddles through which Inspector Pyrope trudges. A lot has changed since she left, and even more has stayed disconcertingly the same.

Feel free to guess along, but don’t lose sight of the fact that – like all murder mysteries – DaiCon is a character drama first and foremost and should be treated as such. You know what they say:

It takes a village to kill a god.