“Maybe magic, maybe mundane” is one of my favourite tropes, especially when it’s featured in something where magic could plausibly exist.
One book idea that I had that is currently only a pile of haphazard notes features a character only known as The Queen’s Mute - or simply “the mute” for short - who is exactly what it says on the tin: the queen’s personal jester, who does not speak. He is also ambiguously human. An eerie, elfin creature who seems to find it funny when people are puzzled by him.
Besides being completely silent, he has an uncanny skill in copying how people hold themselves and move. Gait, posture, the expressions they make, he could just be standing completely still doing nothing, and it’s still obvious whether he’s standing like the king or the head cook. If you’ve seen the subject once, you’ll know who he’s impersonating. He’s quick to spot every opportunity to insult someone by doing so - like spotting a nobleman who isn’t faithful to his wife and following after him across the room in the exact same gait that his mistress walks in. The king once remarks that he can’t understand how the hell someone who can’t speak can have so many rude things to say.
The protagonist was sent to spy on the queen, and the mute is almost always with her - making no sound, not even footsteps, but making himself seen, and seeing and hearing everything. One never hears him come or go, he is just suddenly there, sitting on the floor, waiting to see who’s the first person to glance down and get startled out of their mind because people don’t just pop out of nowhere like that. Being fond of climbing furniture as well, he might also be sitting on top of a shelf.
Though the protagonist first assumes that he is somewhere close to her own age - somewhere in his late teens - and the narration refers to him as “boy” more often than “man”, the queen corrects her. He is just as grown now as he was when she first brought him with her, and though she doesn’t know his exact age, she knows he is older than she is herself.
The king - despite of being the mute’s favourite subject of vicious mockery - tolerates him for some reason. Despite of being aware that the relationship between the queen and the jester is romantic as well as sexual in nature. Their marriage is as loveless as political arranged marriages get, so he finds it preferable to let the queen keep her mute if his taunting antics and his unsettling way of just appearing into places at least keep other men away.
The queen occasionally mentions things that she wasn’t supposed to know - and couldn’t have known - just to let the protagonist know that she knows more about what’s going on than what she lets on. When the protagonist fails to hide her shock and asks the queen how she knew, the queen explains that the mute told it to her. The protagonist assumes this to be a joke, her way of saying “none of your business”, since obviously the mute doesn’t talk.
But he does talk. Only to the queen, only when absolutely no other soul is there to hear it.And as a plot twist on the last third of the book, it turns out that besides knowing how to move like other people, the mute is a frighteningly good vocal mimic. He can copy the queen’s voice perfectly, which they have often used for her advantage. Looking back to every scene where the queen was heard but not seen - behind a curtain or a dressing screen, talking through a door, or just overheard singing to herself in the garden - there is no telling whether the protagonist was actually talking with the queen, or if she had that whole conversation with the mute. This would explain at least one incident where the queen was supposed to be in one place but somehow shows up somewhere else.
The protagonist never figures out what the mute’s whole deal is. She never finds a satisfying answer despite of the queen clearly telling her that he is just as much a human of flesh and blood as either of them.The queen often sounds like she’s lying when she’s telling the truth, as she is now. The mute is completely, entirely human, just somewhat autistic and trans.
The black areas represent the remaining natural dark skies in the United States
I’ve been in the middle of the ocean at night and now live in texas and it is so hard to explain to people that no, they have not ever seen the night sky. It is so hard to explain to people that what they think is a proper night sky is fucking pathetic. A disgrace.
People talk about how you can’t see stars in the city and yeah, that’s true, but their concept of “seeing stars” is being able to make out orion’s belt.
So, so few people have see the sky in all its glory and it’s not sad. It’s a fucking crime. Seeing a perfectly dark night, no clouds, not a hint of light pollution? That’s a fucking religious experience.
The sky the vast vast majority of us grew up with is not the sky that inspired us to look up. It is not the sky that inspired constellations. You can’t even see most constellations.
Your ancestors looked at the night sky and said “surely, that is where the gods must live.” And you might be lucky if you can see hardly more than a handful of stars.
The sky is full, fucking FULL, of stars, and you’ve never seen them.
light pollution is also actively harmful to many species of birds, mammals, and insects
I took these photos on the Isle of Skye, in a place with no light pollution. Skies can look like this.
tbh this is proof that social media has completely ruined my sense of humor like i could go see a stand up comedian live and not laugh as hard as i did from reading this one fucking tweet
Slavs: Have free healthcare Also slavs: I’m not seeing the doctor unless dying, there are sick people there
I em Slavic, and this is 90% true
however, you got one thing wrong
Only snobs, hipsters, and fratboys drink foreign brands
Nonono this is a good cola. It’s the party cola. This is the cola you drink and enjoy. Coca cola is the cola you have stored in your home for months in case someone gets sick, that’s its only use. The scientific explanation (the scientist is my mother) is that american Coca Cola has more evil chemicals, therefore it vibe checks the evil out of your stomach.
I will topple your empires and your kings. I will drain the wealth from your coffers, and elevate your serfs and servants until they stand on the same ground as the mightiest of emperors. Women shall freely speak their minds, unbound by the fetters you have set, and the lines between man and woman shall be hopelessly blurred and shattered into a thousand facets. Your children shall fall into one another regardless of sex or class or wealth and none shall raise a hand or a word against them. The age of crowns and boundaries and divine right shall end, and it shall fall to each human to choose their - wait - why - why are you cheering
This dog I’m sitting grabbed an American flag out of someone’s front yard, shook it in his mouth like it was a prey animal, then carried it 10 feet before shitting on it
To be clear I have never been more proud of anyone or anything
just learned about a building in london that is so poorly designed it becomes a death ray that melts cars and creates a downdraft effect with wind so powerful that it knocks full grown adults to the ground
imagine being knocked over by a gust of wind from this ugly ass building and then being cooked TO DEATH by the sun reflection like what a way to go
i learned about this like last year or somethign and this building is literally th satan come alive. building that tries to fucking kill you and fry you like an egg
top ten buildings that Want To Harm You
this building is like I Will Flip You Over Like A Hamburger And Fucking Cook You
The use of the present tense isn’t quite accurate because they did fix the issue immediatly after this so its no longer a death ray but yes it did partially melt a very expensive Jaguar. Its nickname ‘the walkie talkie’ got beautifully bastardised to ‘the walkie scorchie’ following this. Its also widely accepted to be the ugliest of London’s skyscrapers.
And I just wanna bring up the fact that this is not the only monstrosity built by Rafael Vinoly - he’s also responsible for the eyesore of Manhattan that is 432 Park Avenue.
Residents here have repeatedly complained about the realities of living in this haunted pool noodle, including ‘catastrophic’ floods, loud bangs and creaks, and an elevator that refuses to work when its windy.
I would say we should stop letting this guy make buildings, but he only seems to fuck over millionaires so I’m not in a hurry to end his career just yet.
@branovices it’s my pleasure to inform you that the Vdara ‘death ray’ Hotel is also the work of Rafael Vinoly
World Heritage Post
Rafael Vinoly waking up and choosing violence like
5 months ago
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