#Serial.

[paper-mario-wiki]

in case you're wondering what the greatest AMV of all time is, it's this one from 2008.

[kakusboyfriend]

Robot characters who are given names like SL-308-62 but instead of their human friend going Well let's call you Sally for short, they instead ask the other if they Like their current name.

"Do you like your serial number?" they ask. "Yes, quite. It reminds me of who I am" the robot replies. "I have heard others like me go by different names after some time, and maybe one day I'll choose one for myself, too. But right now that is my full name, yes" they continue.

Because it's not your decision to make whether or not the robot will receive a new name. It should be theirs only. What's the difference? One is more complex and the other is simplified. They were both given by strangers instead of themselves.

"62 will do," they conclude. "It's my model number - there will be no other 62 after me."

[teaboot]

A while ago I was talking to my therapist and I told her I was worried that I was creepy and invasive with relationships. She asked me what I meant.

I told her, "Well, when I'm interested in someone, I try and find out what they like, and if it's something I don't like, then I do a bunch of research and write notes and stuff and explore the topic until I find something I *do* like. And I'm worried that that's weird or stalker-y. But like... I've found a bunch of stuff I still enjoy after the interest in them has faded. So is that okay, or is it creepy?"

And she stared at me for a minute before saying, "That sounds very sweet of you, actually"

And so yeah

Self-perception and shit

[corrodedbisexual]

Once more for those in the back.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Working at the mattress store generally means a lot of long shifts. Ten hour days are not uncommon. You come in, sit alone in a box for a long time, maybe sell a bed, it’s fine. It’s not usually an issue of safety, though, because who’s coming in to shakedown a mattress store? We have no cash and nothing really portable.

But there was one night where I was whiling away my time and a guy came in. He was a big guy, muscular and very punk, tattoos, piercings, the works. We got along fabulously and while helping him a middle aged white couple came in. I was pleased to have a livelier night than I’d anticipated. I bounced back and forth between the disparate parties, eventually finding beds for both.

I finished sooner with the couple but they lingered uneasily by the front of the store instead of leaving and eventually beckoned me over. I trotted along to ask if everything was okay and the woman whispered to me that they were scared to leave me alone with the guy. It was getting late and he appeared quite menacing to them. I wanted to laugh, he was an absolute sweetheart, but instead I assured them that all was well and they could go.

They departed and I immediately told the guy what they’d said. We both had a hearty laugh over it. He finished his purchase and went on his way.

In the last hour, I had my final customer. A young white man in immaculate clothes, button down shirt with freshly shined shoes. Reader, I wanted to bolt. The man had the discordant energy of a cracked bell. Something was deeply wrong with his vibes despite his polished exterior. I desperately wished the nice couple would come hover in the doorway and stare.

I gritted my teeth and greeted him, projecting a friendly and unconcerned air. It seemed clear pretty quickly that he wasn’t actually that interested in getting a bed, which alarmed me even more. I tried to go through the process of fitting him for a mattress but instead he would segue off into telling me about his life while making unblinking eye contact. He asked probing questions about me. I longed for the nice punk man to come back in with a question.

I soldiered onward, visualizing my panic button and refusing to show the slightest hint of unease to him. Eventually he told me that he played piano. He asked if I would like to see a video of him playing piano. I said okay. He then turned his phone over and showed me his screen. In it, he sat staring directly into the camera while playing piano. Above the screen he stared with the same intensely unhinged energy in the video, two sets of serial killer eyes fixed on my tiniest reaction.

I smiled politely, pinned in place by social niceties. After an eon the video finally ended. It was clear he was not going to buy a bed. I insisted that I needed to lock up. He asked if he could stay for that. I firmly informed him he needed to leave for that. With reluctance he drifted out the door as I radiated calm assurance of my own safety and power, locking the door behind him. I turned out the lights and crouched behind the desk in the darkened store, peeking out to watch.

He sat in his car for a long time. But eventually he drove away. I darted out to my car and got home as quick as I could.

The encounter remains one of the most unsettling I’ve ever had in retail. In my decade of serving the public I helped a parade of characters from the harmlessly eccentric to the genuine creeps but this man truly frightened me unlike anyone I’d ever dealt with.

[poley-world-draw]

Mob in the style of Serial Experiments Lain, or so I tried heh

[notherpuppet]

Been thinking a lot about a radioapple human AU today

[seraphont]

they’re married

[sunlit-mess]

:3

[inukmi2]

Testing Nuzi content 💛💜

[blythe-dollz]

baby I’m a sociopath

sweet serial killer

[nyarata]

N IS HIGH

Audio from GlitchX

[colfy-wolfy]

something holy possessed me last night and I drew the most banger piece of ship art I've ever made. rlly proud of this !

[em-bandaid-boy]

How tf do you draw nori why is she a heart creature Mr. Vickers honestly you kinda cooked but also what tf is she

[poxivix]

"HI IM UZI, BITE ME 😍😍😍💔"

I fucking hate that song but its funny.