#rambleposting

[fishofthesius]

Sorry to do hazbin hotel posting on main but there's just something I've noticed about Alastor in this season that interests me--his astoundingly high levels of tolerance for people doing things he doesn't like. And not just when he has something to gain like him being Vox's prisoner! Anyone can overlook a lot when they have a goal in mind, but even outside of his schemes, he's displayed this behavior.

In the flashback scene, when Vox touches his shoulders, he clearly doesn't like it.(as evidenced by the static shriek and him later outright saying he hates when Vox does that) But he allowed it.

I have to wonder why, considering how hard he rejects the very idea of genuine companionship. There are several explanations I can think of but none of them quite fit right with what I know of his character.

(My current best guess is maybe he just had a habit of outwardly tolerating things in life because he was a POC in 30's america, he probably took it on the chin only to get revenge in other ways when opportunity arose.)

He's not been too violent until the finale because he's been on a leash this whole time, so I'm curious to see if this behavior occurs with anyone other than past Vox. Maybe he actually did like being around him until Vox "ruined it," and so he was just willing to not complain about being touched without consent there, or maybe he's just sorta like that.

[fujo-fukuoka]

Who is your favorite troll? :3

Definitely Eridan, seeing his design as an edgy 13 year old is what got me into Homestuck. I fuckin love magic and Eridan is literally a wizard.

Also I love asshole characters who if given the chance could better themselves and Eridan fits that to a T, he’s just a traumatized teenager with no support group who doesnt know how to break free of the many cycles hes stuck in, if he was given that chance I know he would have been able to grow as a person.

The reason I’m saying I’d know is because I used to be in a very similar situation to him, while it wasnt murder i was struggling with I was stuck in a number of cycles i didnt know how to break out of, i was only able to get out with the help of others, which Eridan didnt have.

Because of that his story is very impactful to me, it’s like looking in a funhouse mirror and seeing the worst path my life could have gone down.

Sorry if this was a bit much, i really like rambling about this kinda thing.

[brine-patchfelt]

ive recently been getting got by PostPressure where i cannot post because i have to post good but am in no state to do so. so im making myself post stuff like this that is more,,, unnecessary! repetitive! not made for entertainment or anything of the sort! all the lil things ive been avoiding that has been keeping me away from this blog for some time. so that is to say just like. lil thoughts and updates that i very well could have made before.

anyways i need to give brine more lore. theyve been floating in the void for a while and i need to Connect them to stuff! i think thatd help me with like,, generally having more to write about for them

[recordingsurface]

maybe we ought also to consider that memories are a memetic system. this is something i should have thought of a long time ago. memories that compel recall in some way reinforce themselves and keep themselves intact. they mutate over time through misremembrance. when the memory is shared by multiple people, it may work in a very small scale selective way, allowing people who forget to be reminded by people who remember, and thus allowing mutations that aid recollection to exist for longer. but regardless, as part of a larger memetic body, memories form the basis and backing for frameworks. so really successful organisms trying to gain a foothold will probably sink their teeth into you through memory formation and recontextualization. the memetic system of memory is somewhat subjugated by these forces. diminished. run by them. unable to really assert itself as its own system. this is all idle musing. i will give it more thought on the road

[omegadragons321]

if anyone plays dragonvale and would like to friend me, please message me so we can exchange island ids or something (idk how friending works on dragonvale but im a bit lonely lol)

[squibll]

my workplace got robbed while I was in it. at gunpoint. I still work there.

another longish ramble post I think. I've had a lot of thoughts about this job. negative ones, mostly.

it's 9pm. or almost. there's a single customer ; our last one tonight. there's an odd, uncomfortable feeling in the back of my mind. it had been there since before I left home. I always felt a special kind of dread going into work. I still do.

a man shuffles in front of our lobby door. I feel cold. it's 8:58. a couple more minutes. I wish I had had the idea to lock the door early but the customer already in the store dissuaded me. I felt okay. it wasn't a rough work day at all that day. and yet when that man shuffled in front of the door, trying to pull what I thought was something over his face to prevent others from getting sick, I felt cold.

he comes in yelling. I'm at the register. he yells at me. and in my stress, my fear, I make the worst decision possible. I had never dealt with a robbery before this. gunpoint. gunpoint. he has a gun.

my coworker does most of the opening of the register and opening of the safe (that was a dumb decision. the safe). giving him the money. and I'm on the floor. shaking. afraid. disassociating. I have to call my boss. I have to call the cops. I have to call my roommates.

when the cops get there they don't take us seriously. they treat us like we're fucking stupid. they look at us like we're fucking stupid. they ask us if we gave the robber the money, like we're fucking stupid and like we had any other choice. the cops linger even after I have my roommate pick me up because I don't feel safe walking home.

my boss says it was some bum. my coworker said it was an addict looking for money for his next fix. I remember what he looks like. the robber, not the coworker. he was pretty clearly an addict. I feel bad. and I feel frustrated.

a man let down by the systems that be hooked on drugs with prices designed to keep him in that exact place. violent withdrawal. threatening with a gun. part of me knows why but part of me can't seem to comprehend how. how does one get to that point? it's upsetting that he got to that point. I have to be cautious not to demonize him, in my mind, because he's just an addict. but nobody should get to the point where they rob a store at gunpoint. nobody should scare and traumatize people that horrifically but they do.

my mind always goes back to how I could have died. I fumble with the safe, over and over again, so blind by disassociation that I can't see the numbers. I have to shout it to my coworker. I'm made to feel embarrassed by this when recounting the event to my friends. I feel stupid.

months later and I still work there. I actually left. went home for two months. but I come back begging for any source of income. and they take me back. I watch the door nervously now. I disassociate my whole shift. I pang with fear whenever the door opens and I don't see who came in. I hate it when people linger here. I hate coming into work just to feel so empty and blank and behind all of that, afraid. I have no option but to fight through it while simultaneously stewing in it. I hate it. I hate all of it.

[zenosanalytic]

So I listen to postrock/ambient music while I write(and do pretty much everything ELSE on the computer: I have the Anxieties, ok, don’t judge me u_u) and lately, purely by the Will of our manmade unholy demiurge The Algorithm, I’ve been listening to allot of Skyrim music, and it’s making the Irrational side of my brain actl nostalgic TO PLAY Skyrim(which is AWFUL), even tho the Rational side knows it’s an awful(see?), repetitive, job of a game that ACTIVELY MAKES YOU WANT TO STOP PLAYING IT by constantly pelting you with quests(quests, themselves, are fine BUT THE PLAYER SHOULD FIND AND CHOOSE THEM! HADES DOES THIS SO WELL OMG WHY DOES EVERY OTHER GAMEHOUSE SUCK?!?)

ANYWAY

this is your regular reminder that Skyrim is a Bad Game, practically unplayable without Mods and yet somehow Bethesda never just did the smart thing and plagiarized all that FREE WORK making it not face-rendingly odious even though they’re STILL RELEASING VERSIONS OF IT, and that 90% of what you ACTL remember fondly about it is really just the sound design, which 1)is Legit World-Historical and 2)youtube will actively shove in your face FOR FREE and without eating a quarter of your harddrive u_u

(ok: the emergent gameplay like hunting was legitimately fun, but allot of that you had to actively make things harder for yourself to actl do[like, for instance, playing bow or magic when you can easily faceroll every combat encounter in the game with melee weapons, because Skyrim thinks you’re a wee bairn it must handhold constantly] Also rng game mechanics totally suck. Just make a minigame for pickpocketing already, jeeze)

[hellomelancholic]

It cannot be said you are made with love. You are a made on a scale too grand, brought forth with motivations too corrupt, designed by forces of greed beyond blind praise. But yet there is such a sense of love that pervades every inch of you, that flows out in dull warm light, such care in every word and action and image and sound. What is the genesis of such warmth? Does it come from the individual, under the banner of the brutal whole, not pure, nobody is, but still warm, still soft, still ready to give what they can back? Does it come from inception, from a lonely man and the light he saw in distant stars, the warmth he left behind, the warmth he sought to reclaim? Or does it come from warmth of our own? The warmth from a conversation between the viewer and the universe? The warmth of the sunlight that falls on a single flower in a pot atop a windowsill, a single seed brought from afar and buried there, watered daily and left to bloom not by the forces that created it but by our own caring hands? Or are you a weed, a dandelion, perhaps? Made life by creation, made whole by some will of your own, given purpose, given warmth, given continuation beyond completion by us? Must I ask these things of you, of myself? It is not enough to lie here, where the clouds break and the sky shines down to warm the grass, and just, for once in my life, be still, be still, be still, for just a moment? Is it not enough to feel the love that seeps out from your soil and fills my heart? Is it not enough to not know? To be scared, and confused, and angry, and lost, and okay, just okay, just okay? Is it not enough to rest? Is it not enough to stay here, for just one more moment? Is it not enough to know that the night will come soon, but it will not be cold? Is it not enough to know there will be sunrises beyond this one, and they will be beautiful, they will be radiant, despite the thunder and the rain and the stormclouds on the horizons? Is not enough to just lie here, to be still, be still, be still? Is it not enough to simply love? It is not enough to simply let yourself be loved?