snetsky

Latest Posts by snetsky

« Ralph pleurait la fin de l’innocence, les ténèbres du cœur de l’homme et la chute dans les airs d’un véritable et sage ami appelé Piggy. »

-William Golding, Le Seigneur des mouches.

I will never finish this 🫒

I would like to mention to Lord of the flies readers (or readers of any books tbh) that there is no such thing as being 'evil' without a reason. I'm mainly talking about Jack and the kids who were on his side during the whole book's timeline. Yes, I know, their actions shouldn't be forgiven, but the book literally talks about how every human acts when they have power, no matter how 'civilised' they are. Everybody wants power, and hell, even Ralph isn't a saint either (Simon is though, since he fits in the Christ Archetype of characters, but that's not the point of this post). Everybody is morally grey, even in other stories, as there isn't such thing as a 'good' and 'bad'. Even in fairytales the 'good' characters do bad things. It depends on which point of view you're viewing. Even your worst enemy is the main character in their own story, and that's the beauty in people in general.

Anyways, back on the topic of LOTF, I hate when people just view Jack as just 'pure evil' because he wants power, since Ralph wasn't any better either (well...technically he was tbh cuz he didn't kill anybody, unlike Jack, but still), we just viewed from the point of Ralph, since he's the protagonist of the story. Jack might've been mean at the start, but he was that way since he had even a tiny bit of power as the head choir boy. Power, no mater how much, makes people stop viewing others as equals, or even humans. Just as people at power in society, since LOTF does symbolise society in general.

Idk I just woke up and had to write this on Tumblr cuz I'm tired of people always writing about Jack and Ralph from an objective POV (which isn't wrong, don't worry), rather than a subjective POV lol.

TL;DR: LOTF would be completely different if we viewed it from another character's POV

Piggy and Snowball interacting as requested by Zizzy

Favorite element?

Oof. Asking the big questions. Probably Caesium? Because it just sits there in oil all like "hey dude, I'm chill, lick me." But you should not lick the Caesium for it is deceitful and tastes of bang. Honourable mentions: Magnesium is fun. Helium is pretty great but we've wasted so much of it. Tungsten is obviously up there for all the boring reasons.

Rasputin

I remember a tale, Far to the east, In the cold empire, A plan was produced,

Five years

Five Years.

Five years, and I still trace the shape of your presence— the way your fingers dance along the rim of a glass, the quiet rhythm of your breath when the world is still. You hum when you think, a sound softer than silence, and I have memorized every note.

Salt air clinging to our skin, laughter slipping between waves as we walked. You pointed to the stars as if they belonged to us, as if the sky had always known our names.

Italy woke beneath golden light, our footsteps weaving through streets older than memory. You reached for my hand without thinking, as if it had always belonged in yours.

Now, the kitchen glows in the hush of evening, the warmth of oil and spice rising between us. You stir the pot, I set the table— a quiet harmony, a life built in gestures. I watch you, I listen, I learn you. And after all this time, I love you still.

@nyben0001 Thank you for the poem request! :-)

“The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.”

― George Orwell, Animal Farm

George Orwell's Animal Farm Cover Art

All animals are equal but some animals are more equal than others.

𝘼𝙣𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡 𝙁𝙖𝙧𝙢 1954

owch

You know, having a lunar eclipse (also commonly called a blood moon) the day before the Ides of March feels a bit like a… omen. Wouldn’t you say?

Happy pi day! Enjoy a delicious slice and you're welcome to take the knife with you when you're finished! 🔪

Preciptous arrival of the ides

The ides of March approached rapidly with great anticipation. 

Bestowed upon time’s constant perpetual dance, patience has no place amid the need to demolish the gnawing incapacitate that held ambition to a pause.

A revolution against cowardice, for the valiant never taste of death but once.

For what is known as a vibrant culture

There amongst resided two revolutionaries that contrasted this phenomenon.

One of them, with bold might, plot alongside the other.

Though their differing ages were apparent physically, their minds were all too similar.

The younger of the two swayed the elder, yet the elder not refused the sway of such delicious deliverance.

For, many centuries ago, there lived two. They staged their own revolt against cowardice.

The men of the past held their daggers high—

their shame nonexistent upon the knowledge of the enormity that the downwards thrust would bring

that they repeated again and again.

Modern times tell a messy tale—an interconnected, violent shout  pleading for the reassurance of  existence.

The people stand by; as they watch in bewilderment, unbeknownst to the sheer intensity that the two  reborn schemers promised to bring long ago.

The people squirm amidst the pressure of a shortened run.

All while the conspirators celebrate their shortened run with their own splatter to tell of the impatient rage that brewed so immensely within them.

The nurture of a larger state proved futile in the eyes of the already developed stubbornness that man hold so dearly

For the deepest betrayal never comes from an enemy.

It is not he who deals the first blow whose cut runs deepest.

It is he that picks his dagger of choice and lunges towards with great determination to leave nothing but a carcass of  what used to be

For every modern conspirator, a day earlier from the irreversible gash in time—one that will never heal to perfection.

Mankind witnesses the turbulence of the everlasting wound, yet seeks no form of darn.

Humility is forgotten amidst the heavy need to instigate and inflame even after such sullen juncture

Of the timeless dilemma of the fickle nature that mankind possesses, there lies contingency giving its deserved guffaw towards the mass of negligent existence who are so unconcerned by the unceasing consequences of the wound that remains far too stubborn to heal

Amusingly, the one entity who knows of the everlasting wound amalgamated alongside the conspirators.

Tedium mass tear apart the conspirator.

For his involvement, for his pride, for his audacity, and for his wretched bad verses.

Pluck his name out of his heart for he is far too mad.

Pluck, pluck—for the stinging reasoning of such acts is far too immeasurable, in its rawest form, to bear being recognized.

Mankind—all alike.

The siren calls of bliss lead to the depths of ignorance.

No greater than the other

Including the deviants that showcased their rage raw.

Each proposition has its counter.

No matter how far one attempts to shy away from their own liability.

Albatross gives its serenade of admonish for mankind to abhor.

But as the terrain of negligence festers,

The susurrations of the conspirators’ ring callous toward amenable assemblage

For the timeless wound remains—adamant, unyielding in its pandemonium.

Dedicated to someone very special.

In your wake, you will realize all of your efforts have been futile.

Why not instead go back to your deserving hedonistic dance?

I need to know how and when you will realize your own actions have been in vain.

For I am the voyeurist that you so abhore.

mathblr what are some silly sounding maths terms i can scare my family with

“Live your life as though your every act were to become a universal law.”

— Immanuel Kant

“How long have you been holding those words in your head, hoping to use them?”

— John Locke

Stab a Caesar today!

SEE YOU IN HELL, PUNK

”Love looks

not with the

eyes, but with

the mind, and

therefore is

winged cupid

painted blind.”

-Shakespeare

i dont think we talk enough about the fact that at the end of lotf EVERYONE was hunting. its a perfect way to tie in jacks representation of tyranny and authoritarian ruling: how at some point, everyone becomes indoctrinated into violence under an authority figure which encourages it. not only does the violence from the hunters affect the island, it also spurs more from ralph, and it demonstrates in the end that everyone was even just slightly culpable for the events on the island.

A poem from my ao3.

Lovely voices of everyday life extend beyond their recognition.

May our voices reach their fullest potential, for only ourselves know the truth behind every word we speak.

With every glare, comes a price.

Brewing madness sets apart from the rest.

Tearing apart the fragile seams of civility.

Nihilistic juxtapositions between man’s souls and demeanor speak deeply to those with whom they claim they have seen enough.

Apathy runs rampant among individuals of all backgrounds, including those whose sense of self has rooted deep within themselves until it has become nothing more than a tarnished, bitter reality.

March’s spring weather proves unkind this year when the defiled floors have been swept with the wrath of the no longer existing civility of one individual.

An individual who stands in unison with another has made their decision to stand tall and riot against those that they consider less than they are.

To most, this individual is nothing more than an entity of hatred.

But often not, most overlook the journey of such hatred.

Behind those oak colored eyes that bore with hatred, there once was happiness behind them.

Once filled with laughter’s light now darkened by shadows of betrayal.

A child of joy, forged by a world of indifference.

In the ruins of swept civility, hatred blooms where hope once grew.

Now what remains is the faint metallic fiddle of his gun and the occasional swaying of his dark clothes, a shadow moving through silence.

His name will become synonymous with tragedy once the deed is done.

The consequences will be quick enough to make him suffer. 

Hatred knows no patience, and the pact binds tighter than doubt.

Bound by a silent oath, forged in the ashes of what they once believed in, with a steady breath, he lifts the trembling gun, yet the tremor in his arm makes it almost impossible to properly hold the cold gun.

So, he aims at his accomplice first, as they both had planned, letting his fingers take away.

The sound of the harsh collapse disperses throughout the scene, the silence deepens, only his shadow remains.

The cold barrel touches his temple, closing his eyes, the final blow reveals itself whole, a promise of oblivion.

As both blood puddles mix together, penetrating itself into the floor accumulating with a grand, singular red stain, it is as if their lives and their fates were never truly separate, only slowly being woven into a singular tapestry of ruin.

“I agree with Ralph! We've got to have rules and obey them. After all, we're not savages. We're English! And the English are best at everything!”