#OH SHIT ALMOST FORGOT

[theboxfort]

Um yeah

[mars-ipan]

happy early discount chocolate day

[roses-luckride-art]

So I may or may not be getting back into Obey Me (if you need clarification on what the smaller notes say lemme know and I'll reblog with the small notes next to the characters written out!)

[First block of text]

Humans that stay in the Devildom for long enough gain none human traits (i.e. pointy ears, sharp teeth, think Centaurworld but less permanent, humans stay human)

[Second block of text]

Humans who constantly come and go from Devildom to Earth have less effect to appearance

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Do you think in-universe that there's actual pokemon levels? If so, how do they measure it? And if not, how do they keep things like the battle facilities level-capped? I remember you mentioning before that you think battles are largely for show, and that in gym battles the leaders/trainers will basically "fight down" to whatever predetermined strength level they've trained their pokemon to fight at depending on how many badges a person has. And that basically they're not actually "fainting" from some kid's baby pokemon, they just have a set amount of damage they can take before they concede the win. Assuming I'm remembering correctly anyway.

But like... are those standards just arbitrary? I assume the various Leagues have rules about that kinda thing, so their gym leaders and Elite Four/Champions are trained rigorously (gym leaders more so, I think, because they'd have to learn eight different levels of difficulty by heart, whereas the Four and Champion only need to abide by one difficulty level). But in a battle facility or tournament, you're not just limiting what your pokemon are allowed to do, you're also somehow making sure that your opponents are doing the same, at the exact same difficulty level. If there were actual levels I think that'd be easier (although I'm still not sure of the actual mechanics of how it'd force them down to level 50 or whatever), but if there's no levels and it's all arbitrary, then literally how would they even tell or enforce it?

Or is this the kinda thing that's just me entirely overthinking video game mechanics that have no logical or reasonable in-universe explanation. Because maybe it's just because it's really late here, but I'm drawing a blank. Although, I guess the pokemon universe does have some mind-bogglingly advanced tech that would in no way work in ours, like Bill's machine that turned him into a clefairy or a functional doomsday device 4,000 years before the modern era or even just the PC system as a whole, so I guess if there are levels it'd make sense that there was some kind of tech that could measure and suppress them?

oooh, really tough question.

so your first paragraph summary is basically right lol—what makes most sense to me is if pokemon battles are like, for show, or honor duel type things, where they're—generally speaking—stopped long before the point where either party would do lasting harm to the other. (there are exceptions, like in the case of frenzied alphas or other certain wild battles, but usually if it's not a scenario that is legitimately life or death, they're not gonna fight like it is.) it's just a matter of demonstrating that one is stronger, and their opponent conceding. & yeah, the corollary that goes along with that is that gym leaders and other high level fighters really are, as they rightly should be, much more powerful at a baseline than you are when you fight them—but to make the fight fairer, they'll try to match strengths with you.

levels though. yeah, it's kind of a toughie. even if you don't assume the above, levels are kind of tough to make coherent in-universe. this might just be one of those situations where game mechanics sort of run up against inworld depiction, yeah, like when an npc tells you to press the B button to run? or the apparent metaphysical law of reality preventing anyone from having more than 6 pokemon on their team at once. it might be that in reality, "strength levels" (inc. not just xp levels but also EVs/IVs and that kind of thing, since some trainers (ingo again) have also shown that they can modulate those) are just sort of a thing a high-level trainer and their team gets a general feel for as they advance, and then maybe they have to do some extra training to actually do the moderation, but the general sense for different strength levels is already there. like, maybe it's not as granular as "okay, now be level 37," it's just "yeah put in like... 40% of your normal effort. great."

but then yeah, the idea that there's no hard and fast rule for it makes stuff like the battle subway kind of hard to explain. since like, there's no way to actually stop someone from cheating and going over 50, and if they do there's no actual Numbers for them to point to and say "no, you've gotta take it back a bit." they can only rely on vibes to determine whether someone isn't strength scaling appropriately? that seems like they wouldn't be a fan of that.

on the other hand i do love the idea that modern day pokemon people have invented some kind of machine that can just scan your pokemon and output a bunch of numerical summaries of their general stats. ooh, maybe that's one of the things a pokemon center machine is doing when you heal, it's giving them a lil blip and updating their info chip in the pokeball-or-however-it-works with their latest info. if it was anything that was actually enforcing a level standard i think it would have to be based around that, since modern pokemon are at least partially data based and i think it would make some kind of sense to be able to sort of. put checks on that data.

alternately, there's no actual physical limitations, it's just that if you try that you will be kicked out of whatever you're participating in. and there would probably be like, sports news drama about it, depending on whether you were participating in some kind of tournament. so people generally don't bc the payoffs of winning once aren't worth it when it's so immediately obvious to everyone that they're breaking the rules. (there could even be some kind of like, known scammer's/cheater's art of trying to just barely toe the line of "rule-breakingly strong" without anyone being able to strictly prove it and punish them for it. but for the most part that's more investment than people want to do for not a lot of gain, it's easier to just fight normally)

...but then the thing you always circle back around to when talking abt this is like. from the battle subway forwards, you're not just going down to 50, they can make you go up to 50 too. which is like, how the fuck, even. how are they juicing the fuck out of my level 20 starter to make them match with everyone else. which is why i feel like there might not be any physical in-world numbers about it, and it's just a matter of it being accepted that both opponents should play down to whatever the weakest party member is, and 50 happens to be the standard level the games represent that as for ease of calculation.

-ok wait a second i just went to check and according to bulba in post-bw games, like in the battle maison and further, they stop doing that scale-up-to-50 thing. it's just the fucking battle subway that does that?? hi?? hello?? out of universe i guess this makes sense from a gameplay perspective, since they're a much earlier-game and generally more accessible facility than other regions, so it's actually unlikely that a player would have a level 50 team when first boarding. in-universe, though?? what the hell are you guys doing over there???

[fearcicada]

Jonathan Sims and Aromanticism as being disconnected from and unrelatable to other children, As never being romantically interested in someone during your school years because you don’t have time for that nonsense, you’re focused on your studies, you don’t like spending time around others. As no one being romantically interested in you until college – at that point, do you even know what romance is? What it feels like? As dating someone because they like you – You might as well date Georgie, she’s interested in you, and you like her well enough as a friend. Is this what love is? As not being interested in sex either. What is there to define the difference between romantic and platonic feelings that doesn’t involve physicality? As going into asexual spaces and always seeing the “we may not like sex but we still love people and want relationships like anyone else!!!” takes. As already being closed off, rude, an acquired taste for most. When it’s already hard for most people to want to be your friend - romantic relationships seem even more unrealistic. Already having a lack of personal relationships in your life - not exactly helped by not being interested in most people’s idea of “romantic relationships.” As being less aware of things like flirting and romance than most (because of said lack of personal relationships your entire life). As being completely unaware of someone else liking you for months/years even when it seemed like, really really obvious to everyone else. As having less and less people around you who don't hate your guts or are dead and having the one person who doesn't hate you, wanting to date you? Like romantically? As feeling inhuman. As questioning your humanity. As trying to define your humanity through romance. As being green themed and covered in eyes and becoming the lynchpin of the apocalypse<333

[gert-the-disaster]

meanwhile on may 2nd 1974..

stupid idiot cartoon ass thing i slammed together yesterday in about four hours, i originally coded and shared it on scratch but whatever ill put it here too lol.

UNHAPPY 50TH “CAR WRECK THAT CAUSED EVERYTHING TO GO TO GARBAGE” ANNIVERSARY.

the “og” link btw (it’s turbowarp) https://turbowarp.org/1011983760

[diddlesnap]

this line always shocked me like i always forget peeta's popular because the only friend of his who's ever so much as named is delly. and they were really just friends when they were little kids.

[chirpsythismorning]

This being the first time Will talked to or even looked directly at Mike since the airport is hilarious. Like I just know Mike was having heart palpitations as he flip-flopped away afterwards, still processing what just happened, only for him to jump back in with that vomit green sock joke, all confident like now we're cooking! as if it he wasn't about to tell the worst joke ever known to man i'm crying

[heartorbit]

a mob of emus for an artstyle game on twt! ^_^

[kryptickrow]

"Due to its canonical assumption of determinism, Laplace's demon is incompatible with the Copenhagen interpretation, which stipulates indeterminacy. The interpretation of quantum mechanics is still very much open for debate and there are many who take opposing views (such as the many worlds interpretation and the de Broglie–Bohm interpretation).[8]" - Wikipedia

(textless version + link to pt1(?) under the cut)

(previous post in this... set? duo? dunno if ill make more)

[randomshiptime]

credit to randomlifelog24 on X/Twitter, account deleted

[genshin-impact-updates]

Happy Birthday, Paimon!

[willthespy]

The Big Three (Torture Devices):

Electric Chair, Water Torture and AAAAHH!! EMO KID!!

[dagrapesody]

I like the beetlejuice musical so this spawned on my canvas Idk

[purplecladmerchant]

I don't need you to be different... I don't need you at all.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (III)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here and this is Part Three 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Boy had a break down, stole a medical cot, took a nap. Bone Appetite. Oh yeah and maybe he made a friend. Maybe

Trigger warnings for: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚 

Sleeping in a puddle of your own fluids gets really gross after a while.

Danny grumbles quietly. Ew. It’s all…blood and plasma and goo and ectoplasm and various other nasty body liquids he doesn’t actually want to identify.

Gross. He’s soaked the mattress some too.

And he wants food. He can feel the empty cavern where his stomach ought to be rumble with wantwantwantwant. It makes his core whine—when his body is too damaged to be human, sometimes it treats itself as if being human is his obsession. He wants, because having human food and water and safety will make him more human again.

…Maybe he can snatch another one of those NastyRibs today. They’ve got meat. Protein.

Danny’s tail lashes as he considers going to the cafeteria again. But what if he gets lost? And loses his cot? It’s a nice cot. Much better than dirt and far superior to the container.

Maybe it is just smarter to go to sleep again? The more he explores, the more likely it is for someone to see him. To find him. To put him back in the container.

Danny presses closer to the cot mattress, his fluids squelching up around him. And what if the one thing finds him?! The thing he couldn’t bite?? That’s not safe! He can’t get picked up by it again! He can’t fight back! What if it crushes his core??

His curtain pulls back with a sharp skkkhsk of metal rings on metal bars. Danny bares his teeth and hisses, and—

—Oh. It’s the buzzing human again. Danny slowly lets his damaged muscles relax. It purrs in a language Danny can’t hear (did he lose his tiny ear bones??) very quickly and very pleased as it chats about something. Whatever. It’s not a threat and it’s a good distraction. Danny rolls onto his side so he can watch.

It makes a sad noise. Danny perks up. Why is it sad? Why would it—? BAGEL! Actually it doesn’t matter why the human is sad because it gives him a bagel. With cream cheese. Untoasted!!

Carbs go down sooooo smoothly. He doesn’t even get any crumbs stuck between his mostly-present teeth. It’s good. So good.

The buzzing human buzzes away, leaving Danny in a cloud of agitated air and a vague sense of concern. Concern? Did something happen?

The immature human voices come back. Danny perks up. They sound familiar, but they lack the vibrational quality of the buzzy human. It will be harder to tell what they want and where they are.

A face pokes past the curtain. Danny’s sight is too poor. He can’t recognize it. He hisses.

The buzzing child slides back in with a hvmmmmvm to put itself between Danny and the new face. Good. Bad, if the human gets hurt, but good that it doesn’t want Danny to get hurt either.

The new face doesn’t attack them either. It makes a long, drawn-out noise that Danny is mostly sure is a complaint or three, but the buzzing kid hops around, free and light, and zips off and zips back.

Danny peeks from under his arm.

Oooh. The new human has clean blankets. He does want those. Maybe they’ll sop up the fluids he’s sitting in. Now…will they offer them? Will Danny have to fight them for it?

His tail flickers. If they’re more like ghosts, he’ll have to fight. Danny doesn’t want to. They’re young humans. He might injure them without realizing. But he really wants those sheets. Maybe he could steal them very quickly…?

Danny doesn’t have much time to wonder though because he is snatched off the mattress??

He almost bites the buzzing human before he recognizes the buzzingbuzzingbuzzing under the skin of the human holding him in its grip. Why is he being held?! Is this a threat??

Is he going back to the container??

There are more young humans here suddenly, taking his bed and—hey! Taking his cot! They pull off the mattress, drag it off somewhere, and Danny won’t bite but he will phase through the arms of the small human and leave.

So he does.

It’s not comfortable to find another empty conference room and to hide there. But young humans are impatient.

They’ll leave Danny alone.

…eventually.

For now, though he’ll just hide his core under the table. It’s scratchy carpeting and hard wood on his sensitive core and he’s cranky and tired and he misses his cot.

If that red and blue thing tries to pick him up again, he’s going to bite him.

*

The hand that wakes him up is not the blue and red human this time.

Danny thinks it is, at first, and bites it as soon as he reforms. But this human yells and drops him, so it is not! Fantastic. Danny slides through the wall—

—And the human tugs him back into the conference room by his tail. Hello?! What?? Ow??????

Danny barely has time to bare his teeth before the whole world is spinning and moving fastfastfast and—

He plops onto his cot. Or. Danny is plopped onto his cot. He’s. On his cot?

The hell?

It’s. Danny sniffs. Pokes the mattress. There are new sheets on it. One layer underneath feels bouncy and tense, like it’s rubberized. But it’s his cot. Undoubtedly. It still sort of smells like all his juices rotting.

The buzzing human zips into the curtain that hides Danny’s cot. It and the new adult human start arguing. And then the adult starts buzzing.

Danny’s back is all tense and he doesn’t understand. Weird. Weird. Weird. Weeeird.

The adult goes away. Then Danny’s left with the younger buzzing human, and three strangers.

They’re so blurry. At least the humans that vibrate endlessly are red. The rest are a random mystery to him—splotches of warm reds and yellows on black, which is just dark enough to screw with his recently lacking depth perception. Fantastic.

Danny presses his face into the pillow.

His more-familiar-human buzzes off and is back in a flash—this time with a half-dozen different fancy breads.

They smell nice.

They look nice. Probably. Danny inches closer. There’s some spots of red, of blue. There’s probably fruits in them. Sugars, carbs—if there’s a lot of oils in them, that’s good for fats as well. Danny really needs the extra calories at the moment.

He almost goes for them. He does. But he doesn’t want to encourage that stupid picking-him-up behavior, so he leaves them be and pretends they’re not there, in the hopes that the young humans go away before he starts showing off his teeth about it.

The red human inches closer, and makes cunning little Don’t You Want It? noises. Danny’s neither a baby nor an idiot. He keeps a narrowed, half-formed eye out.

The buzzy human buzzes closer.

Danny stretches out his claws. A little twitch of pain and they solidify nice and sharp in the yellow light.

The buzzing human wisely takes a step back. And leaves the breads on the end of the cot.

Smart.

Danny doesn’t touch them until all four humans are long gone, their voices lost to the base. After that, though? Each pastry is gone in one bite.

Danny makes himself invisible, wishes for darkness, and he rests.

*

There’s more food on the end of his cot when Danny wakes up the next morning.

Granola bars. Dried fruits.

…Oatmeal.

It takes forever and makes his back and tail ache like crazy, but Danny swaps his cot with one of the other little cots in this large, medical wing. His aura flares in the hopes that he’ll cut out cameras, but who knows if it will actually works.

Of course, it would work on another ghost, hopefully, and warn them to Stay Away! I’m mean! if they wandered into his territory. But otherwise, who knows? Maybe Danny’s too sick to actually be scary.

Danny sleeps behind a new curtain that night.

He doesn’t like that things that remind him of the container are chasing him.

*

The red human buzzzzes back into his old cot space the next day. When it sees that Danny is gone, it cries.

Danny carefully makes himself invisible. Just in case.

The human buzzzzzes away and doesn’t come back for a moment, until it does, bringing back one of the darker human-shaped blobs. One talks, and then the other, their voices as chattery and annoying as when birds get upset with other birds.

More whining. More noise.

Danny rolls over, puts the pillow over his head, and pretends he doesn’t exist.

He doesn’t hear any footsteps. He doesn’t see the curtain jiggle. Danny thinks he sees feet poking out from behind his curtain, just the once, but he doesn’t—

Something touches his invisible form. Danny flinches back into visibility, and—shit. Shit. Shit. They’re touching him. They’re touching him on purpose.

He tries to go intangible. The hands slip through him, but it’s not enough; they know he’s hiding here now, and now something is going to come get him.

A hand brushes his core. Danny whines.

The hand. Stops. Pulls back. Something— it’s flesh-colored and soft and is held out for Danny to investigate.

Brown-black tears plop out of Danny’s sockets without warning.

…Oh. It’s a band-aid.

It’s. It’s so simple in its familiarity. It’s soft. It’s rubbery between his fingers. The little paper peel. The—its—

…It’s probably fine. If. If they’re bringing him a band-aid.

  Everything still hurts, but the background ache is easiest to bear when he sleeps it off, hour after hour of praying his body knits itself back together. He tries not to think about the things he’s lost. The physical, tangible flesh he’s lost. The brain matter. The organs. The…hopefully he hasn’t lost a limb, but he has a feeling chancing a transformation to look isn’t going to go well for his overall health and wellbeing.

Danny’s core keens. He wants Frostbite. He wants Mom and Dad. He wants Jazz. He wants someone to put him into a safe bed with ice packs and to bring him soft foods and to lay beside his core and purr and he wants someone to take care of him.

He wants someone to take care of him.

Danny needs someone to take care of him so badly.

…Danny drops his intangibility. Some of his body becomes borderline corporeal, even. He has no idea what he looks like or how bad the damage is exactly, but he hears a muffled gasp and an acute intensification in the buzzing, sharp and high and scared.

That’s not a proud, smug response. That’s not a mean, gleeful response.

Okay.

Maybe…Maybe Danny is actually safe here. Maybe this won’t hurt too.

Danny doesn’t remember everything, but he does end his session slathered in clear cream, wrapped in cloth bandages as well as two young humans can manage, and with a band-aid stuck against some cavernous hole in his forehead.

He’s even awarded a blueberry muffin for his bravery.

(Good for him.)