Arsonism-the-eighth - North

Why rant when I can just meme?

[NOTE: THIS JUST IS MY OPINION!]

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I watched this video essay yesterday and it reminded me why I love this story so much. Please check Ladyknightthebrave’s overview, analysis and critique of the Guardians of Childhood! As well as her other work : )

no one understands, no one knows my plan!

Parosphromenus “Sentang” / Parosphromenus aff. bintan (I finally managed to take pics of a colorful male)

A type of very small licorice gourami which are endangered in the wild and need to be breed in captivity otherwise they will go extinct very soon. Their habitats are in great danger of being destroyed and lost forever. These fish are endemic, meaning they are only found in one small lake or group of ponds in asia. These fish need the tiniest of live food like baby brine shrimp and moina. I don’t know why I wrote all this but I think they are neat and these colors arent even their final form.

The Sadist (Slenderman) smells like the Forest he created. His suit is pine, and earth, rotting leaves, tree bark, wet grass after the rain. Beneath that is blood, old copper, dirty under your fingernails. Breathe too deep and you'll smell the darkness of Memoria, his home, and you won't wake for a long, long time. But your dreams will be sweet, haunted by glistening palaces, faceless friends, and the laughter of a child who doesn't know his fate.

The Hedonist (Offenderman) smells like roses, because of course he does. Not just one kind of rose, though. He breeds dozens of types, all sweet smelling, all beautiful, all mundane. His favorite is the moon-pale roses named after his best friend's dead mother. Sometimes you can smell the water, too, of the aquarium that fills his home and helps feed the Deep he controls.

The Revisionist (Trenderman) smells like a mall, which makes sense because that's basically what the Bizarre he lives in is, a mall that no one has visited in many years. He smells like brand new fabric, metal from sharpening his scissors and fixing up his sewing machines, freshly made bread and sun warmed fruit, from the fields beyond the walls of the mall he lives in. Under his fingernails though, is bone and wood and human leather. His mannequin proxies are made from the corpses of those his friends needed to disappear.

The Enthusiast (Splendorman) smells like popcorn and cotton candy, funnel cake, massive chocolate chip cookies. Close your eyes and you will smell something you can only think of as an angel's wings, clean like pure air, soft as cotton, warm as summer. His mask smiles and shifts as he hugs the human children in Paradise, giving them the joy they didn't get when they were alive. When the big friendly Black Shuck wolves come, they get their fur and their canine smell all over his polka dot costume, and he amuses his charges with his complaints. He is the guardian of death, and life, and he decides where you are reborn. Sometimes when he thinks, he smells like a hospital, a newborn baby slimy and screaming. Sometimes when his smile is still, you can smell the fire and ash of the righteous rage he hides within.

The King (Cabadath) smells like the palace he calls home. Crystal and golden metal, polished wood. Gentle rain on old stone walls. A fur coat, passed down through generations, well cared for. A fallen tree begun to rot. Smokey incense, from the ones who worship him in Memoria where he rules, and Earth where he watches. His blades are sharpened to a guillotine's edge. When the fog rolls in, you can smell it on his clothes and skin, the rotten flesh of death, and the endless, suppressed tears.

The Queen (Amara) smelled like perfume. A dozen kinds, a different scent each week. Ocean water, milk and honey, a field of clover and lavender. She stopped bothering eventually. She could not earn her husband's love. So she lived for herself. Abandoned the silky dresses that smelled like sweet soap. She embraced books, and her white hands stained with bitter scented ink. She painted the walls with impossible images until her plain clothes were stained with paint, and she looked like a servant. What could her husband do? She was pregnant. He could not harm her. He barely noticed her. The people wondered if she was mad. Maybe she was. But if madness brought joy, she would reach for it with her desperate hands. She would do anything to be happy... Even die.