#but the most I think of is when people are all synthesizing what they know and coming up with plans which is a group effort

[kakerutori]

I think one thing that makes Byler so distinct is the way that they complete each other’s thoughts without even trying.

“You know on a- a view-master when it gets, like…” “…caught between two slides?”

“We can’t take any chances. We need to assume the worst. The Mind Flayer is back.” “Yeah. And if he is, he’d want to attach himself to someone again.”

“Well, no, it’s not just a video game, it’s a video game console.” “It’s basically America’s answer to Nintendo.”

“Some sort of facility.” “A fence, a building.”

“Are you really questioning Suzie, right now?” “She’s a genius, Jonathan.”

Seriously, you could read these quotes one after the other and assume that they came from the same person. They’re like couplet statements then clarifications. And they do it all the time in season 4. I wonder if this is a subtle reason why Byler had a rise in popularity after s4 - they’re so in sync without even trying (couple behavior)!

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

141 as your drug dealer boyfriend

Ghost- Let's be real with ourselves, Ghost is not a good man. He doesn't care who he hurts, as long as he gets his. He will do anything to get what he wants and there is no stopping him. It's what made him a great soldier, and it's what makes him a great kingpin. He moves weight to put it lightly. There isn't a moment where an uncut key is unmoving; from a warehouse, to a plane (or car, or train), to a distributor, to a pusher, to up someone's nose. He'll try to do some damage control, make sure things aren't cut with fent, but that's only to make sure customers keep coming back. He likes to keep his hands clean, in the sense that he'll never be the one to pull the trigger on anyone that's out of line. Living up to his name, no one knows what he looks like. Hell, a lot of people don't even think he's real.

But when it comes to you, Simon's a different man. No talk about work, just you and him. Other than the multiple hidden guns around the house and Glock he sleeps with, life is normal with you. Holiday homes in the French countryside and Bahamas. Designer everything. Sports cars in all your favorite colors. You want for nothing. It's the life he wanted for you. After all those years of crying and hurt when he was away for weeks or months, you deserved the world. Want the new Hermès bag? You got it. Can't choose between the black or white louboutins? Get both. Stop eating you out because you can't feel your toes anymore? Sorry love, only thing he can't do for you.

Soap- Johnny is a small business owner. Weighs everything out by his own hand. Presses his own pills. Let's you help baggie everything up. A social butterfly, this man is at every concert, rave, or music festival. Sometimes he has a friend help push his stuff when he just wants to stay home with you, but for the most part he's his own salesman. And a damn good one. Never has overstock. No matter how much he brings with him, he'll always sellout.

Has a supernatural sense of being shorted. Can tell if a bag is even a few grams off just by holding it.

"Ye'r an idiot if ye think ye kin short me."

And when the other party denies, he always keeps a pocket scale on him, setting the parcel on it. And sure enough, he's always right.

He'll come home with a few grand, the only job you have is to sit there and look pretty. And roll his spliffs. Sitting in his lap, tucking the rolling paper into itself and licking it closed while he counts out a fat wad of cash. He hands you a fat stack,

"A've never bin good wi' money. Ye know how to spend it better than me."

He never touches the stuff he sells, no need to when all the dopamine he needs is right between your legs.

"Ten times better than any o tha' shite, anyways."

He pants in your ear while folding you in half, firm grip on your throat.

Gaz- When it comes to psychedelics, Kyle is your go-to man. He's a fucking genius, synthesizes his own DMT and LSD in a lab. It's a state of the art facility, clean with the latest and greatest equipment available. He supplies the whole Northeast. If it's a hallucinogen, it's most likely Gaz's product. And if it's good, it's definitely his. He has a cozy set up with some "organization" that he cooks for. Steers clear of actually selling to people, no need to when his clients line his pockets so well. Never brings work home, he even wears different clothes when he's in the lab.

He has a set schedule he has to adhere to but sometimes he's able to take vacations with you. And that's how you ended up bent over a balcony watching the sunset in Punta Cana,

"I work so hard to make you happy, now it's my turn yeah?"

A breeze sends a shiver up your spine while he kisses your shoulder,

"I know a private beach where you can even out those tan lines,"

Of course he doesn't give a shit about that, he just wants to fuck you silly on the seaside (and show off to anyone who might be watching.)

Price- Caring and nurturing, the man naturally has a green thumb. And alongside his prized heirloom tomatoes, he grows really, really good weed. Has a whole growroom in his basement, decked out with proper ventilation, ACs, UV lights, the works. The man grows medical grade weed that private clinics buy from him. He's legit. And of course he serves the public as well under the table, sells only to people he knows and established clients can refer others to him. He treats his plants like his babies, even going as far as to play music for them (according to him classical music helps them grow better???). You don't know where he finds the time, but he also made you rose garden for your anniversary. He brings up the idea of a family every so often. He'll finish as deep inside of you as possible,

"Let's replace that plant nursery for a real one, yeah love?"

Gonna write actual stories for each one if y'all like this ( . * 3 * . )/`

[mollysunder]

The Medarda Family and the True Goal of Shimmer

Nature has made us intolerant to change, but fortunately, we have the capacity to change our nature. -Singed

For most of s1 the only versions of magic the audience really gets familiar with are visualized through hextech blue and shimmer pink, but we can't trust it to represent what actual magic is like on Runeterra. People from PnZ are incredibly unfamiliar with magic, it was banned for centuries, and they're mostly retracing steps and doing guess work. The best metric to understand how magic works is to look at characters and regions that are actually inclined to magic, and the Medardas may be the best example yet.

When Ambessa accepts the Wolf totem from Lamb one half of dual aspects of death, her body is enveloped in a bright purple transformation before being reforged into a red that resembles the kind her ancestors and the Lamb wear.

It's the same bright purple that consumes Sky in Viktor's last experiment with the hexcore in s1.

I think this purple represents magic at its most malleable state, where it can be refined or change others into final products with a proper catalysts. By s1's final scene, we know that Mel possesses magic and likely uses it through her golden armor. We also know it's possible for magic to be a hereditary trait that can be passed down (not perfectly) through family lines, which is prized in Noxus (and Ixtal?).

So if Mel has magic that likely means the Medardas family in general has latent magic that flows through them naturally., but qhat does this have to do with shimmer or PnZ in general?

The Medardas are relevant to PnZ because Zaun leading minds, Silco and Singed, have spent their capital trying to replicate what the Medardas can do!Shimmer doesn't exist purely as a bioweapon, that's frankly secondary to it's point. Shimmer exists as a means to artificially make the users capable of performing magic, or at least shift the user's biology into something that can tolerate magic. Hextech as a solution to the mystery of maguc completely sidesteps the relationship between magic and the user by using machinery as middleman, while shimmer takes a more direct route.

Singed can't literally biohack nonmagical people into mages all by himself. Singed instead developed what's essentially a hormone therapy to give users temporary magic abilities by synthesizing shimmer from these mysterious plants that resembles the color of the magic within Ambessa before her deal with the Lamb.

Why didn't Singed and Silco just give people the magic purple plants directly if it's capable turning them into mages? Sky and Rio might be the best examples for why you don't do that. When young Viktor feeds Rio the purple plants we see Rio immediately lose vigor, as an audience most of us assumed that was simply Rio's pre-existing condition acting up, but the relationship is more simple. When Singed said Rio was dying, he said it with surety because Singed KNEW the exposure to magic was killing Rio. And Sky was DISINTEGRATED upon being exposed to the hexcore's magic.

In that vein, Singed used Rio as a work around. From what we see non-mage humans absolutely cannot tolerate exposure to even base magic, but Rio was able to last longer. Instead Singed and Silco exposed Zaun to a version of those magic flowers that was broken down by Rio's metabolism into a more version that non-magical humans can tolerate.

The wild thing is that all this effort is to get non-mage users to Ambessa's UNREALISED state, the purple is just the base magic that exists in mages. Even still, Singed seems to have developed the kind of strain of shimmer that's the closest he's ever come to real magic, and Viktor and Jinx used it.

Viktor's own magical transformation has been facilitated by the hexcore in the same way the Lamb facilitated Ambessa's transformation. Do i think Viktor has essentially created his own Aspect through the hexcore? NO.

But in the same way shimmer is facsimilie of magical ability, so too is the hexcore a subsitute for living magic. And by living magic I don't mean unicorns or mermaids, I mean magic that is given consciousness and shape by being tethered to human concepts. And the hexcore's basic purpose is supposed to be magic that thinks and Viktor has tethered it to the human plane with his blood.

This all begs the question about what could exposure to the hexcore do to long term shimmer users? What WILL it do to Jinx? We all know that's inevitable next season.

You see, power, real power doesn't come to those who were born strongest or fastest or smartest. No. It comes to those who will do anything to achieve it. -Silco

Tldr: Shimmer is a large-scale project to turn the population of Zaun into mages, or magically tolerant, by essentially microdosing the population with magic through shimmer.

[icedbeverageenjoyer]

(📺🖤📺🖤📺🖤📺🖤📺🖤📺🖤📺🖤📺🖤)

Mr. Puzzles has manufactured everything about himself, including his voice: (A long post!! 📺)

A thing I've noticed is just how often his voice changes, most notably when he's switching from his deeper narrator voice to his more energetic showman voice in the promo trailer. ^^^

Here's another example from the song. Both lines are said in two distinct voices, none of them being the usual one we hear from him. One has a more pronounced Transatlantic accent and the other has an American one. We can assume someone else is talking and he just overlays himself on top, but he is explicitly the one shown to speak in that moment. ^^^

This next one might be a stretch, but I think the supporting female vocals could be him as well. It is heavily implied he works alone and doesn't trust others with his vision so it kinda makes sense that he would also sing the song on his own. (If that's true damn does he have a good voice) ^^^

Even the critical podcast host could be him. The first voice is deeper and rougher while the second is more sly and has a distinct influxion that is unique to Puzzles, so they could be just his inner thoughts and insecurities audibly manifesting through some complicated technical means.

He is alone in his office, staring at all the monitors that display his hard work. And he is not satisfied. His mind begins to wander and his self doubt begins to manifest out loud in the form of others criticizing him, further fueling his crippling perfectionism. ^^^

Also here, when his lifelong dream is finally met he can't contain his (ever so slightly malicious) glee, and his voice deepens and begins to glitch out. ^^^

Also a bit unrelated but did y'all notice that when he says 'crying' he is shown with his crazy big smile? You know, his main expression on all the promotional material.

Conclusion?

I think his upbeat showman voice isn't how he usually sounds, but what he thinks others would like him to sound like. He has to keep up the energy that the audience has come to expect of him so he manufactured the perfect tv host voice to keep as many tuned in as possible.

I headcanon his real voice to be deeper, raspier and very monotone. I think that while he was smoking he had to turn off his voice synthesizer so the smoke won't damage it, which is why he doesn't talk in the scene. He has lost every bit of himself by molding into what he thinks people would like, and any reminder that he was once someone else makes him uncomfortable.

I'm going insane chat.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Mad Love Chapter 21

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

To decide my future as his lover, Roger gave me one final trial.

—However, I was still unaware of one unshakeable truth hidden from me.

--

Alfons: I wonder if that man’s revealed something important to Kate.

Elbert: Something important?

Alfons: The cost that comes with that man’s egoistic way of life.

Elbert: …

There was a hint of sorrow in Elbert’s downcast eyes.

Elbert: Is that…something that will make Kate sad if she knew?

Alfons: Yes, if you were to liken it to a fairytale… It is the worst kind of ending.

--

Roger and I started working making an antidote for the condemned.

…But making it was more difficult than we imagined.

Roger: …The hell…

We had repeated the experiment many times, but it always failed whenever we got close.

Roger: Ahhh, can’t even find a clue.

(Roger looks so troubled…)

Roger: …The Privy Council and the Royal Hospital’s doctors used my research materials to synthesize a drug and then were poisoned by it. Meaning, if we reverse engineer it, then we can make an antidote.

Roger sighed as he thought over his past experiments.

Roger: But we haven’t been able to. What are your thoughts, Kate?

(Thinking about it in simple terms…)

Kate: We made a mistake along the way. Or…Oh, perhaps our process has been wrong since the beginning? What if they used a method other than what’s in your research…!?

Roger: Yeah, well…that could be why we can’t make an antidote. It’s highly likely those guys combined my research with “someone else’s”.

Kate: What do you mean “someone else”?

Roger: If I knew, then it wouldn’t have been this difficult.

Meanwhile, the criminals’ symptoms were getting worse. Worst case scenario, they die before they can even be condemned.

(Like Roger said, we “ can’t let them run away by dying”)

(We need an antidote immediately…)

Time was limited.

I frowned as I started getting impatient…

Kate: Wooooah…

Roger’s pressed against the crease between my brows with a finger.

Kate: What was that for?

Roger: It was messing up my cute puppy’s face. Your earnest nature’s a good trait, but don’t overthink.

We’re already short on time

But I’m feeling frustrated

I don’t want regrets… +4 +4

Kate: I don’t want regrets…

Roger: Time’s running out so how ‘bout we don’t think for now. That’s how most would feel, right? Though surprisingly, taking a step back can be a shortcut.

Roger grinned.

Roger: So how ‘bout you take a break and run an errand for me?

Kate: An errand?

Roger: Yeah, it’s a kind of errand only you can do. I’m gonna keep researching, but I got someone to go with you—

Before he could even finish his sentence, the lab’s door opened.

Alfons: What is it. Why are you calling people over all of a sudden?

Roger: …See?

(—Alfons of all people?!)

--

The errand Roger wanted me to run was—

To buy flowers to lay on Lance’s grave at the public cemetery.

It was something I didn’t manage to do the other day because I got kidnapped.

(The fact that I wasn’t able to visit Lance’s grave was something that’s always lingered in the back of my mind)

(Roger must have noticed and decided to send me on this “errand”)

Despite how straightforward he was, Roger looked after others.

Kate: …

I placed the flowers in front of his grave and closed my eyes.

In my mind I saw Lance’s faint smile. He had left this world without knowing that he was cursed.

(...Rest in peace)

(May you meet your sweetheart in heaven)

I then opened my eyes and twilight winds swept my hair.

I followed where the wind blew as I looked over the graves.

(So many people are resting here…)

It would be nice if all deaths could end with a “happily ever after” as beautiful as the and the ones in fairytales. 

However, life wasn’t that simple.

(I wonder how many people lost their live while holding despair in their hearts)

Kate: …

When an inescapable sadness gripped at my heart—

Kate: Woah! Hey! What do you think you’re doing Alfons?

I quickly covered my ear and the person who had just breathed on it frowned in disapproval.

Alfons: Oh my, what an accusatory reaction. Had you been feeling sentimental for any longer, you may have been taken to the underworld. I was only bringing you back to reality.

Kate: …Um, thank you?

I was baffled, but thanked him and Alfons gave a shady smile.

Alfons: Yes, of course. You’re welcome. —By the way, Kate. Your month as Fairytale Keeper will be over soon. You will be out of the darkness and free! Please forget everything you’ve witnessed here and have a fresh start. Work hard once you’ve returned to your old life.

(Huh…)

I blinked like an idiot at his wide smile.

Kate: Um, I don’t have any plans on leaving Crown or my position as Fairytale Keeper.

(I haven’t told anyone about this, not even Roger)

(Why did Alfons bring this up…?)

Alfons: Meaning?

Kate: I still haven’t received Victor’s approval yet, so this is just my personal wish, but… I would like to continue being Fairytale Keeper after the month has passed. And I want to help Roger with his ongoing research on the Cursed.

I had planned to tell Roger that after we finished with the antidote.

Alfons: Though this decision is typical of an earnest woman such as yourself, it’s difficult for me to understand. Our curses are of no relevance to your life.

Kate: No relevance?

Alfons continued, no warmth in his voice at all.

Alfons: Yes, in the end, it’s someone else’s business. Did you know that you cannot work for the sake of others forever?

Kate: …It’s true that I’m not cursed. And I may never fully understand them. But…this isn’t someone else’s business. We met and you became someone important to me.

Alfons: …

Kate: Also, I’m not just saying this out of altruism.

(There isn’t a single part of me thinking about sacrificing myself…)

My desire is—

Kate: I’m…definitely the one that wants to see Roger overcome despair the most. 

Alfons: That muscle-glasses egoist is leaving your valuable life with. I find it difficult to believe. You haven’t forgotten about our fated “tragic ends” have you?

Kate: Well—

I was about to tell him that it wasn’t something I’ve ever forgotten about, but a sense of discomfort held me back.

Alfons: Roger is doomed to be “ruined by his own guilt”... I do wonder what sort of destruction awaits him. Ah, it’s horrifying to even imagine it.

(...There’s something strange)

(Alfons has had nothing but harsh words today)

(It’s like he’s trying to make me mad…)

Normally, I’d feel offended if someone doubted what I said in confidence and tried to discourage me.

(Yet, I don’t feel angry or annoyed)

Instead, it was like he—

(It was like he was trying to free me from getting my feelings hurt. At least, that’s what it felt like to me)

Kate: …Alfons. Is there a reason why you’re trying to stop me from continuing on as Fairytale Keeper?

Alfons: …Aha! Do you think I’m some sort of saint?

Kate: Please don’t avoid the subject.

There were still many more truths I didn’t know about them and Crown.

(Even so…)

Kate: I’m a Fairytale Keeper. …I may be inexperienced, but I do know that you’re the type to hurt people.

Alfons: You insist on believing that there is good in me. I like your views. Then, I shall live up to your troublesome expectations. —Kate.

His voice when he said my name carried a different feeling from before.

Alfons: If that man did not have very long to live, would you still choose to stay by his side?

Kate: ——Huh?

--

When we returned from visiting the cemetery, I stood in front of Crown Castle.

(I need to go back to researching, quickly…)

But what Alfons said continued replaying in my head and I couldn’t move.

(...I can’t go back inside yet. Not when I’m not sure if I can act normal in front of Roger)

At that moment—

Ale: Woof.

As if to rescue me, a cute, fluffy mass came running toward me.

I picked Ale up and headed to the palace library.

(There’s not a lot of people around, it’s quiet, and I’m less likely to run into someone)

(Let’s calm down for the time being…)

I walked around and browsed the shelves to distract myself.

However—Alfons’ words still continued to replay in my head.

His POV | Next

[rathayibacter]

been thinking about the parallels between ttrpgs and poetry lately, synthesizing some stuff i've been sitting on with both. i don't remember where i heard this from, but i really like the idea of defining poetry as writing that can't be edited down any more; if you made even one cut, one word replacement, you'd lose something. even the repetitions and redundancies are there to communicate something, because if they weren't they'd be removed. 

its not true, of course, but i don't think it has to be. as a lens to examine poetry i think it's fun, and as a goal when writing poetry it's helped me on more than one occasion. any claim to Fundamental Truth beyond that line doesn't matter much in my opinion. what i like about this isn't that it makes for poetry where you have to read a certain meaning out of every single line to "get it", its actually kinda the opposite! by assuming there's meaning baked into every detail, you can get meaning out of any detail you decide to focus on, and can narrow your focus as much or as little as you like. my favorite poetry is messy, colorful, and dense; you're not gonna get a single clean reading out of it because doing that requires ignoring all the fun little twists and turns, all the intersecting ideas that led it to this point.

and so that brings us to ttrpgs! role-playing games are a fascinating thing because they can really only get us halfway; even the most strict and detailed game has an innate fuzziness that comes from the peculiarities of how we play tabletop games. your mechanics are only airtight if everyone knows, understands, and remembers them, and those are three tall orders for any game, no matter how simple or intuitive it may present as. and that's not even a bad thing! interpretation isn't just "what percentage of the rules are the players getting wrong", its an adaptation of the rules as written to the game as played. even forgotten rules are part of this, cuz anything that's able to be forgotten (and again, that's potentially anything) probably was forgotten cuz it wasn't terribly relevant to the table forgetting it. 

so, as we write games and cast them into the world, fully aware that the thing that'll arrive at people's tables will never match what we had in our heads, what should we do? obviously some of this is just practical; don't bog players down with unnecessary busywork or minute exceptions to memorize, don't build a house of cards that stops working if any one part is missing or changed, you can use stuff like cheat sheets, examples of play, indexes, and asides to make it easier to learn, reference, and remember how to play.

but i promised you poetry, and poetry we shall have! so here's my big guiding principle for writing ttrpgs: only include it if it sings. every part of the game should be special, so that no matter what part or parts of the game a particular table winds up using, the game still shines through. by tangling the spirit of the game up in every line, every rule, every tiny little piece, everyone who engages with it can get tangled up in it too, and can fill in the spaces between in whatever way resonates most with them.

in more practical terms, this is "don't write anything that's less interesting than what the players will make up at the table", ie assume players will fill any missing spaces to the table's preferences, so only close those gaps if you've got something fun to say. don't fill space out of obligation, don't bog yourself down in the stuff that doesn't matter. this doesn't mean never add a polearms list because there's a million polearms lists out there already, but it does mean don't add a polearms list unless you're burning with passion to add it, and excited for people to share in that passion. if you don't, don't worry about it. they can figure it out. the table can always replace your good ideas with ones they like more, and they can always fill in the gaps when they come up, but it's not always easy to recover from a wall of bland filler or an ocean of lifeless cliches.

i wont tell you that if you follow this One Weird Trick then your game will be good. i don't know what a good game is. or rather, i know exactly what i think a good game is, and have no idea what you think it is, and have less than no faith that anyone could ever determine what a Truly Good Game is. but just like the quippy little definition of poetry at the top, universal truth isn't really what i'm after when i employ this. i'm trying to make something that satisfies the little itch in my brain, that sings to me as i make it and keeps singing even after i let it go. moreover, i'm trying to make something that doesn't waste my time as a writer, and doesn't waste yours as a reader or player or fellow designer. 

will this make sure players remember all the rules when they're playing? no, absolutely not. i wouldn't want them to, even if i could force it! but maybe, hopefully, what this does do is lodge one of those little razor-sharp slivers of text in their brains, and it'll sing to them just like it sang to me. not the same song, not the same tune, but just as beautifully.

[voxofthevoid]

I feel like I'm still digesting both 265 and 266, but if I could grind this shit into paste and inject it into my veins, I would.

There are half a dozen interesting and overlapping angles, but predictably, it's Yuuji's character development that's making me feral.

His attempt in 265 to find a peaceful resolution with Sukuna, plus the rationale he lays out, is both a beautiful farewell to his cog mentality and an organic development of the running theme of how Yuuji views and values life as well as death. He's fifteen years old and has already undergone horrors both mundane and supernatural, to a degree that would break most people. He has broken down. And now he's essentially synthesized all that pain and altered his worldview to accommodate both his own values and the reality he's facing. He still gives immense value to life, only expanded to better acknowledge that there's no objective measure of a life worth living. If anything, all the death he's witnessed (many in the last hour or so alone) has only reaffirmed his respect for life and living.

And I love how 266 further enhances what 265 presented. For one, it reframes why he tried to pursue a non-violent resolution with Sukuna. We know from 265 alone that Yuuji didn't really think it'd work, but he tried his best anyway. That was compelling enough on its own, but now, it seems that, more than offering Sukuna a chance to accept Yuuji's humanity (and people's worth in general) and thus show his own, it's about Megumi—that was Yuuji's last-ditch attempt to save Megumi because he's already resolved to not force Megumi to live.

I've seen discussions and wondered myself about how Yuuji will tackle the apparent selfishness of trying to save Megumi when he really doesn't want to be saved...and the answer is that he won't. Losing Megumi will hurt him; that panel of Yuuji and kid!Megumi is heartbreaking. But he's still choosing to respect Megumi's pain and his desire for it to end over his own desperate need for companionship. And it's fascinating how this doesn't contradict Yuuji's reiterated respect for life; it's just also incorporating a respect for how others would like to deal with their own suffering. It's not a development I was expecting, but I love how it's presented and tacitly supported by everything Yuuji's experienced and witnessed both before and during the canon storyline.

I've been worried, with how JJK's narrative quality is hit or miss lately, about Yuuji's characterization getting fucked over. And I won't really lose that fear until the manga is over, especially after the recent announcement that it'll end in 5 more chapters, but at least these two chapters display some brilliant character work and narrative quality.

[chrysoula]

Albedo spent sixty years rescuing Nahida from her cage, because he was looking for a challenge to test himself against. He didn't spend much time thinking about how, after the rush of satisfaction had faded, he would be in possession of a newborn god of wisdom who was so lost she tried to go back into her cage.

"Why are you here?" she asked, puzzled, as soon as the door to her cage opened. "There's so much-- You did so much, so why are you here?"

He stared at her as all of his sense of accomplishment washed away.

She began to gabble. "I knew something was happening, I could see your echoes, the ripples like a fish underwater, and I didn't know what you could want but I helped you when I could, because I wanted to see them beaten so why are you here?"

Because this is the finish line. But he knew better than to say that. Instead, he ran a rapid post-mortem on his plans over the last sixty years. When had the flaw been introduced, and how could he compensate for it?

"Okay," she said into the silence. "Now what?" Her eyes reminded him of glass marbles.

"I don't know what you want me to do," she said bitterly after a moment. "There's nothing I can do."

It was a worldview alien to Albedo. Ever since his mother abandoned him, he'd practiced turning his knowledge into power over the world around him. Before they called him a mastermind, they called him a meddler, and usually he didn't bother tidying up when he was done. 

"Oh. I see," she said, drawing her own conclusion and dropping her gaze. "You didn't come for me after all. How stupid I am." 

And even then, he struggled. He could see the potential shapes of the consequence he'd created and he didn't like them. He'd done something terrible and he had to repair it, but how--??

Tears began to spill from those green eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just not good enough yet. I shouldn't... I shouldn't get involved." And, wiping her eyes, she'd turned to step back into the cage.

That, at least, he could respond to. "No, don't do that. It would only make things worse."

"What?" She half-turned, her mouth open in surprise.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?" That was probably a safe thing to ask in the situation. The government imprisoning her had been thoroughly disabled that morning. And newborns were often hungry.

"What?" she repeated, and then ran over to him. "Did you change your mind?"

Pleasantly, he said, "I think you did, but that's not an important detail at the moment. Why don't we sit down and talk about a few things?"

She promptly sat down, looking up at him with clear curiosity. He sat down on the ground too, refining his evaluation of her. "First of all, do you have a name of your own? One that doesn't belong to the Archon?"

"Nahida," she said, possibly for the first time. She looked a little surprised, in any case.

"I'm happy to meet you, Nahida. My name is Albedo." He gave her a friendly smile, and she stared at him like she was decoding his face. "Let's try to figure out what you'd like to do now."

"May I ask a question first?" She spoke with a respectfulness he didn't deserve. Not from her, anyhow. He'd have to earn it first.

"Please do. I'll do my best to answer it." While she formulated her thoughts, he began to synthesize some fish snacks he hoped she'd find palatable.

"Beyond your name, who are you?" It was a question carefully considered, and not the one he expected. But her earnest gaze remained fixed on him.

He considered his own response. It wasn't a question he was in the habit of answering. "Mostly, I plan things for other people. I'm quite clever and I've lived a long time compared to most, so I have certain advantages I enjoy sharing. In quite a few places, I'm considered a criminal, because what I help people do is often illegal. " He offered her the fish snacks. "I also engage in projects of my own, like this one."

She accepted one and nibbled on it. He observed as her eyes widened and she nibbled a bit more before finally making a face and putting it down. "I don't know how to taste it right. I'll work on it later."

"Is that what you want to do?" He saw this as a natural way of leading back to the core topic, but when she flinched, admitted to himself that such directness might have been a little cruel after already thrusting so much change on her unannounced.

"Do you think it tastes good?" she asked him uncertainly.

"Yes, I do."

She thought for a moment. "I'd like to learn to like it too, then. And I want to stay with you, please."

Did gods imprint? He'd never looked into the question. But the truth remained: she might be the god of wisdom, but she was also a powerful and traumatized child. If he walked away now, one way or another, she'd show up in his life again, the worse for it.

Calmly, he said, "Yes, I thought you might say that. Do you also want to rule Sumeru?"

She shrugged, curled up in a ball, rocked back and forth. "Sumeru is a dream to me, a world on the other side of pages and glass." Then she sat up again. "But you are somebody I never imagined existed. That seems more interesting than governing a country that doesn't want me to exist, all by myself."

"I agree," he said. "Still, having Sumeru on a stable footing may be useful in the future, so we should probably sort out the knot I made before we go on our way."

[sturionic]

hey, you said your inbox is open and I was curious if you have any ideas for someone who can't get involved irl in things like protests and local antifa groups (physically disabled and incapacitatingly severe anxiety), and who can't get involved in online activism beyond reblogging stuff (personal reasons, difficult to explain)?

I've been considering trying to put together care packages for local unhoused people, but I'm poor and I'd have to convince someone to help me put everything together so idk how well that will go.

I don't want to sit around doing nothing.

Hey anon! I am very glad you reached out, and this is a question I get asked a lot by people IRL, so you are very much not alone here.

I think the first order of business is expanding your definition of activism. We have been done a great disservice by having activism framed for us as protests, charity, & singular heroes making speeches and changing hearts through celebrity. In reality, the smaller actions in your community have a much greater impact; and most of all, the things you personally have to offer make the greatest impact.

This diagram is specifically geared towards climate action, but really applies to all activism:

For you to be an effective activist/volunteer/community member, it's crucial to find the centre of that diagram, or else you're on a one-way ticket to burnout. Don't get caught up in trying to judge which is the most "important" activism, because that answer will be different for everyone. The most important thing you can do for the world is the thing you can do.

I've done lots of volunteering and volunteer management in multiple fields, and there really is lots of choice out there for things that suit you; anything from sorting files quietly in a back room to using computer knowledge (often VERY absent in community groups lol) to help with maintaining websites & promoting community events. One of my personal favourite volunteer shifts was acting as a helper to the organizers of a queer electronic music festival, running a "build your own synthesizer" workshop. Literally I was just ticking off names on a registration sheet and doing setup and fetching things, but it was one of the coolest things I've had the joy to be involved in.

The other plus here is that activists in a given city all usually have some social overlap. If you email, say, your local community centre, explain your interests & circumstances & skills, and ask what you could do - they might not have anything right that moment, but likely someone there will know a different group that needs something similar, or they'll have ideas for who you could try next. Even if you're not finding a lot online right away, have faith in the (slightly haphazard) offline community org social scene. Same deal if you get involved with something and realize it's not your thing after all - just be honest, and ask for help in finding something more suited to you. It's so, so common, and no one's going to get angry with you for wanting to help in ways you're better suited for.

Don't mistake me when I nudge you towards volunteering - there's a certain way that well-meaning (usually) liberals treat volunteering, like they're 'donating' their time as charity, and I am not advocating for that. I'm just saying that you really don't have to reinvent the wheel. There are structures in place run by people who know well how to do it. Part of the importance is the work itself; the file-sorting, the computer help, whatever. But another part is building connections with the people around you, and also letting those people benefit from the privilege of knowing you. And that will happen naturally over time. The muscle will grow as you use it more, even if you need to start with something that feels to you like it might not be enormously significant in the grand scheme of things. Maybe you move on to 'bigger' things, or maybe you gain new perspective and realize just how significant your contributions are after all.

[homestuckreplay]

Homestuck Is For Cat People

(page 928-941)

KITTEN UPDATE: Rose has picked up the kitten and is cradling it so gently.

The big development here is another APPEARIFIER, this one green (on theme with the lab) and perhaps a different model as it has this arcade cabinet setup instead of the big flat Playstation Portable that WV had (p.738). A coin-operated appearifier is a fun thought and I’m glad the idea was planted in the story, even if it didn’t come to pass.

This appearifier can be adjusted in time, but has been specifically locked onto Rose’s childhood cat Jaspers, who is apparently a Very Important Cat – there’s a special catlock symbol on the bottom of page 929. The funniest reveal is that Jaspers was always wearing a suit, and was fitted with a new one for the funeral, but not his first one.

And then we zoom out and see BABY ROSE. So small. Giant wet anime eyes way too big for her face. This is from Thursday September 7, 2000, and Rose was born in the winter of 95/96, so she’s 4 close to turning 5, and she is already a therapist and (according to unreliable present Rose) may have written the phrase ‘characteristically recalcitrant’ in a notepad.

Rose’s immediate instinct upon seeing this is to cause a time paradox. As though she doesn’t have enough problems already.

KITTEN UPDATE: The kitten is clinging to the trailing end of Rose’s scarf.

Rose creates a slime-cat just as WV creates a slime-pumpkin (p.752), and then we get a MASSIVE lore bombshell. This appearifier is connected to a slime chamber/DNA sequencer, automatically sucking up the paradox slime which contains the DNA of whatever was/wasn’t appearified. (I can confirm from Real Life that molecular biology sometimes involves slime).  

If it’s working, the machine then creates a PARADOX CLONE; an actual, living, non-slime embryo of the creature which can most likely grow like any other creature of its species. This one isn’t quite working; the kitten nibbling the scarf is actually a very close copy but the two-headed version in a jar is a step backwards. These are, apparently, ‘unsuccessful attempts to perfect the science of ECTOBIOLOGY.’

‘Ectobiology’ is written in green in the narrative so we know it’s important. And it is a very green and slimy word. Maybe a word that could describe a kid wearing a green slime ghost shirt. John is (or wants to be) someone who clones creatures through appearification, sequencing, and synthesis. It’s… weirdly analogous to how alchemy works in Sburb. Appearifying the slime = dispensing the cruxite, a raw material to work on. Sequencing the DNA = carving the totem, encoding the specific data. And synthesizing a clone = alchemizing an object, creating something physical out of digital data. It actually seems really easy, and like it doesn’t require any actual biology knowledge. But how does John know about this science when we’ve never seen it mentioned outside this ominous underground lab? And does John have plans with this? Specific clones he’d like to create??

Jaspers ‘tells Rose a secret’ and again I am wondering if we are supposed to take this literally, if cat speech is possible via Skaia’s will or if this is a weird false memory of Rose’s. And then he’s appearified away, by someone who isn’t Rose at some point in the past/future. For exactly two weeks his location is hidden by static; then he returns battered, and then we get the Jaspers-centric animated page, something I wasn’t expecting for today but am thrilled to have.

KITTEN UPDATE: The kitten is blinking all four eyes in sequence, like a crowd doing the wave.

A funeral dirge filled with purrs and meows plays as we see Jaspers’ extravagant funeral (complete with Mom’s martini glass and what looks like a funeral lab coat?), time in the mausoleum, and journey to the lab and transportalization today to somewhere with a gray square-patterned carpet. I don’t think we’ve seen this specific carpet before, but we have seen some geometric gray carpets in Jade’s house (for example, p.914). This is intercut with moments of the new mutant kitten chewing on Rose’s scarf, rolling around, and being generally adorable. Surely Rose is falling in love with this kitten as much as I am.

Rose appearifies Jaspers back and with ‘all this sorted out’ (p.940) grabs both cats and transportalizes away to who knows where. I do not feel like anything is sorted out. I actually have nothing but questions. But I’m glad Rose is feeling good.

Thinking through all this. Someone – presumably Rose’s mom – has been trying and failing to specifically recreate Jaspers. We know that resurrecting Jaspers via Sburb is a big goal of Rose’s, even if she’s reluctant to admit it, so that’s a big parallel between these two characters who have a lot of distance and hostility. Rose was so young when Jaspers disappeared that losing him must have been a formative memory. Jaspers was likely Mom’s cat from before Rose was born; her cat plushies suggest she’s a cat lover in general. She might have been working on getting Jaspers back ever since the moment he disappeared. The question is, does she want him back for herself or for Rose?

It's also possible that this setup has been here even longer, and that Mom herself appearified Jaspers from Rose’s therapist couch that day. Maybe accidentally, and it had bad effects, and she’s been trying to create a new Jaspers ever since as an apology (a real Dr Frankenstein way to approach interpersonal relationships but GREAT characterization) or maybe on purpose for some more nefarious/experimental reasons, considering the ‘no accessible feed’ during the time between his disappearing from Rose’s side and reappearing at the river.

KITTEN UPDATE: The kitten has been PRETTY DECENTLY ESCAPALIZED along with Rose!

> Rose: Check for additional cats in your new surroundings.

[shigayokagayama]

The Beach Omake And Authorial Intent

initially i was going to save this for a big teru analysis i had cooking however i eventually ended up deciding that it would feel like a really long tangent in its original context and probably deserves a separate post.

when it comes to the whole "teru's parents" thing i generally see two competing ideas on it

a. terus absent parents are the real villains of mob psycho and are the direct cause of everything wrong with his life and any and all teru analysis must center around this fact

b. terus parents being absent in the first place is only revealed in an omake and only exists for plot convenience and is not something that should be focused on at all when writing him

and whenever i see either of these my mind always drifts to the question of authorial intent. i know how people are reading this information, but how are we supposed to? i know death of the author is becoming more of a common thing in fandom spaces (albeit usually misused) but i feel like a better understanding of why this omake exists and how we're supposed to read it might help to better synthesize two takes that seems to be completely at odds with each other.

okay first i want to go over the actual placement of the beach omake in the update schedule of the manga because, unlike most other omakes, i feel like this ones placement in the schedule of page releases is actually super relevant

the vast majority of omakes come at the end of weekly updates. you finish reading the usually 15-20 pages ONE put out and then you get a little bonus comic at the end, usually something funny or a slice of life but but occasionally more serious. multi part omakes are usually spread out over multiple updates, making you wait a couple weeks for a punchline.

beach omake is not that. between chapters 99 (mob gets hit by a car) and 100 (the whole rest of the omake) there was a 6 week hiatus from normal pages and in this hiatus is where we get beach omake. reading it all together immediately cuts away the sort of "slice of life sunday paper comic" tone other multi part omakes have and make you read it as a part of the actual main story, since that's how you're used to reading these weekly updates.

now the actual tone. generally the multi part omakes exist to be long punchlines and the rare emotional ones are a single page for maximum impact. beach omake has a very different structure compared to, say, the haunted doll omake or the pot of happiness.

off the bat from the first two pages there's not really a joke. the tone mostly seems kind of melancholic. mobs expression for the middle section of the second page (maybe purposely) is obscured by the panel breaking off, it's hard to tell his reaction, all our attention is directed at teru. with all of the panels taken up by dialogue (primarily his own), we're being asked to focus on what he's saying:

-teru lives alone

-he lives alone because his parents live overseas

-he hasnt seen them in a while

-he doesnt like having nothing to do

-he doesnt like being alone

all of this information is delivered with an extremely casual expression from him, implying that it's not something that seems ll the out of the ordinary for him. mob, on the other hand...

the hesitation before he says anything and the way his expression is obscured seems to imply something is... off... about this information to him. this isn't a handwaved "oh mob is walking home from school after passing out because he needs to for plot reasons", we're reacting to this information like it's weird.

the next two pages are, mostly, a lot more of what we expect out of a mob psycho omake. the first one works as a standalone joke page, teru is bad at identifying animals which leads to him showing reigen a roach, something reigen is terrified of, instead of a beetle.

the second page starts similarly, we get a dumbass joke about reigen trying to pick up women at the beach (note: i think this is the singular time we get an indication reigen is even into women) but then the next two panels take on a more melancholic tone again. we get a small panel of mob and ritsu playing on the beach and a much, much larger panel of teru sitting on the beach, watching them. the dialogue bubble forces us to pay attention to the fact that he is silent.

the ending of this omake is where we bring it home. generally the last panel centers the punchline of the page, or of the whole omake, but the final panel of this isn't really what was being built to in this case.

we start our second page on teru. his expression is obscured, reigens speech bubble is shoved to the side so we can see that teru's hat is being held in his hands.

when we see his face in full view he looks... confused. he looks like he doesn't know how to react to someone going through all this trouble for him. teru is a character who, up to this moment, we have seen as extremely independent. he always rushes into things alone, he always has to be the hero, he always has to be the one to save the day. hell, this omake is immediately followed by the confession arc. where... you know.

so what are we supposed to get out of this omake?

teru's been doing everything on his own up to this point

but he doesn't have to anymore

[perpetual-fandom-brainrot]

Temporary Relocation Prologue/Ch. 1

This fic is based on this drabble Basic premise: Reader got an experimental surgery and is being relocated to a military base with more specialized medical supplies to help recovery while on medical leave, and will temporarily help with missions to ensure success after.

It was some kind of new experimental technology. You were one of only a few hundred who had the privilege of getting the opportunity. When they'd called, you'd needed to request for the information to be mailed because there was so much of it. "Instinctual Prosthetics" was what they had decided to name the project. It was supposed to help military combatants, granting an animalistic advantage of some kind on the battlefield. They would synthesize physical attributes of the target animal, you couldn't wrap your head around how, and intertwine the prosthetics and artificial nerves with your body's existing nervous system. Most info beyond that was disclosed to you as "need-to-know," which told you literally nothing you felt you needed to know.

Nonetheless, you were too intrigued- and too attached to the payout you'd get for using yourself as an experiment vessel- to say no. That was how you ended up on a helicopter with a man who'd introduced himself to you as Captain John Price, with your newfound cat ears and tail still extremely sensitive to everything around them. Every time the aircraft jostled, you found yourself flinching, and every time the noise changed you wished you could press your ears to your head to make it stop. If only it wasn't too dangerous to take off those headphones, which had been specially made for you. You didn't even want to think about what the violent whirs of the overhead blades would sound like without the protection they gave.

"Touchdown in five," the pilot called back to the two of you. You barely registered it until you heard Captain Price giving a comment saying the pilot's communication went over. "This team won't be anything like what you're used to, soldier. Much more specialized, much better materials to handle your... unique recovery circumstances." The captain's explanation didn't do much to ease your nerves, but you found yourself nodding as though it did. As though it held any clues of what you'd see on Task Force 141's base. "The rest of the force should be meeting us when we land," he continued. "I expect you'll get acquainted with them over your time here." The words gained another absent nod from you. Until the heli touched down, you found your brain wandering to how this all happened in the first place.

"It's an experimental procedure," the woman over the phone explained. You could hear pages flipping in the background of her mic, "we're only offering it to a few hundred soldiers to see how it takes. There's a wide range of people who chose to go in already." Her explanation only served as further confusion.

"I... I still don't understand," you mumbled before taking a sip of your coffee, "why was I selected?" The line was tense with silence for what you wish was a small beat, before the woman sighed.

"I only know what I'm telling you, and I'm only allowed to tell you what I know." Her gentle tone was meant to be reassuring, but right then it was just pissing you off. You were going to potentially lose critical brain functions if this went wrong, and it was still on a need-to-know? Fucking government. "There is one upside, though," she spoke tentatively now, "since this is a voluntary experiment, they're offering you compensation."

"Compensation?" The word echoed off of your tongue almost as if it was alien. "I'm sorry, I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around all of this."

"I have permission to make exactly one hard copy of this information and mail it to you. Would you like me to file the request for it?"

"Yes, please."

It hadn't felt like too long since that phone call. It probably hadn't been, if you were willing to compare hours to seconds. It had only been a few weeks since you were wheeled out of the surgery room, informed of the expected enhancements with your balance and hearing, and then immediately told about the orders for your relocation. You'd be temporarily occupying the base of a specialized and extremely classified task force, one you were sure your own generals themselves had never heard of. A few weeks since that tail was surgically implanted at the back of your spine and connected to your main nerve pathways, a few weeks since the nurses and doctors taking care of you started looking at you funny when you covered your ears from things they couldn't hear.

The harsh jostle of the helicopter landing, and the ensuing pins and needles from your still sore tail, broke you out of your trance. You took a deep breath as you stood up and removed the headphones, flinching at the more detailed sounds you knew no one else could hear, and looked up to see Captain Price awaiting your company to exit the aircraft.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

Not at all, you think, but give a verbal, "affirmative, Captain." Price doesn't walk off of the helicopter until he sees you next to him, where a small group of men wait, presumably for the two of you, in a semicircle. "So... this is the team?" You ask quietly, awkwardly, before they've noticed you. Price chuckles to himself before calling out to the group.

"Soldiers," his voice carries over the now fading whirs of the helicopter, "meet our new temporary recruit. After the medical recovery period ends, you'll all be working together out on the field. I expect you all to make good use of the remaining leave time." Nobody had to ask to know what Price meant. You'd all be stopping bullets and bombs for each other soon enough, probably too soon. He wanted a team that knew how to work together.

"What's with the cat ears?" A rough British accent calls. Your eyes flick to the source, a tall and muscular man wearing a skull mask. Your peripherals catch everyone else's eyes immediately flying to the top of your head while you make brief eye contact with the man. Your breath catches in your throat when you open your mouth to respond.

"This is the experimental procedure you were briefed about," Price stated. "I expect you all to treat this like any other new recruit. If I hear of any issues, you will be dealing with Shepherd." A collective groan came from the group as Price walked towards a gathering of buildings. Who?

"Aye Ghost, don't want them to make you a kitty cat, eh? Ya might end up too cute to fight that way," another man, a Scotsman with striking blue eyes and a mohawk, commented.

"A word, sergeant MacTavish," the Brit barked before walking into a nearby building. The Scot followed him without asking questions. You just watched the two in a daze, not sure what to make of the scene.

"What was that?" The question came from your mouth carefully.

"Don't mind them," another man, the only one left now, spoke up. He had umber skin that looked smooth, not as big of a build as the Brit but you had no doubt just as strong. "The sergeant's probably getting his fair share for talking to the lieutenant like that." As he talked, you noted he's probably better for agility. He took a step towards you and held out his hand, "I'm Kyle Garrick, Gaz on the field."

"Y/n L/n," you took a step to close the gap and firmly shook his hand. "Nice to meet you Gaz! Who are the other two? The sergeant and you said the lieutenant?"

Gaz laughed a little, the smile staying as he spoke, "the angry one in the mask, the lieutenant, is Ghost, and the Scot you saw messing with him is my fellow sergeant. His name's Soap. Those two are always at each other's throats. Bet you'll get used to it as you stay here," he took a step back after letting go of your hand. Gaz was still smiling, "and I'm assuming you know Price. There's others, but they're out on assignments if they're not stuck in the medical quarters recovering."

"Well, in that case, mind showing me the medical quarters? I'm due for an initial check-up after my briefing on the team. Pretty sure you just gave that to me."

Gaz turned and waved you on from behind, "follow me!" He called. You jogged to catch up, looking around and taking every detail in while gazing at the structures around you. Brief explanations of barracks, small hangars, different quarters and offices, the main canteen building as you passed it, everything you needed to know about getting around the base and what you need. Eventually, a building just as plain as the rest of them save for a red cross came into view. The medical quarters, you regarded it with internal relief. Your ears and spine were starting to ache again.

You even forgot to thank Gaz as you hurried in, leaving him to laugh to himself. You were definitely something. The base- the force- was going to enjoy having you.

Read the next chapter here

[medra-gonbites]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion Head Canon Music Edition

Ok soooo ! Recently my bestfriend and I wrote and composed a song about BG3 (which we might release one day) and it got me thinking about the Tadfools (as if I don’t already think of them 15 times a day) and imagined what their band would look like and which instruments they would play and thus voilà my rendition:

Karlach | Drums

Look at her and tell me she does not play the drums. She would sometimes have to be asked to stop because she would not notice everyone has stopped playing but her. She just has the proper energy, rhythm, not to mention arms, to rock that drum set and start a solo Whiplash style.

Lae'zel | Harmonica

“What is this shiny rectangle? “whistle metallically” Oh. This sounds… beautiful. Like the screeching of a blade on a sharpening stone, but… Better!” And that’s how Lae’zel picked up on the harmonica, true story, I was the harmonica!

Wyll | Main Vocal and Violin

Yes, Wyll would absolutely sing and dance and become an icon on the Sword Coast. He also plays the violin. I don’t know, maybe it’s the horns, but I could also see Duke Ravengard enrolling him at conservatoire at age 6 to play the violin. He writes most of the lyrics

Shadowheart | Bass and Back-up Vocals

Shadowheart is a bass player. Look at her smoky eyes and her pout: she obviously plays the bass! She matches her nail polish to the colour of her bass (black, purple, white). She is always down to jam and she also provides Wyll with beautiful back up vocals when he needs it. Her timber is quite ethereal as well.

Astarion | Electric Guitar

Astarion has massive rockstar energy. He did try to play with his teeth on more than one occasion but that breaks the strings. He has several guitars, guitar straps, dedicated stage outfits and hundreds of guitar picks (which he does not even use but hoards like a dragon).

Gale | Synthesizer

Gale is a piano player but why constrain himself to a regular piano when he can make it sound like space music. Or any other instrument really. Fender Rhodes with a distortion and reverb to the max? Yes, please. He tried the keytar and while he does like the funkiness of it, he prefers the horizontality of regular synthesizers. I also believe he’d compose a lot of the songs.

Now for the one who are not part of the band but do play an instrument:

Minthara | Band Manager

Sorry I do not see Minthara as a musician. She’d be an amazing band manager or music producer though. If I must attribute her an instrument I would say the harp as she canonically has a lute but I imagine the discipline it takes to learn the harp is quite in character and would be a funny contrast; the angelic sound it makes, opposed to… Well, Minthara.

Halsin | Bansuri

And he made it himself from bamboo or wood. He plays it during his session of guided meditation or when he is alone in the forest. Usually attracts dozens of critters and little animals and it makes him look like a Disney princess (Although he has never seen a Disney film himself.)

Jaheira | Steel Drum

She learned during her hippie phase in college back when she would travel to Puerto Rico and/or Jamaica twice a year. She still has her old steel drum and will take it out if you nag her long enough or if she is in a celebratory mood. She might play it at your LuAu themed birthday party if requested.

Minsc | Triangle

It is the only instrument that he can play. It looks relatively simplistic but it is actually quite tricky to play as it requires great timing and a little bit of technique. Minsc is a natural at both. He likes being part of an orchestra and finds the agitated man with a stick the funniest of all people.

Boo | Church Organ

I have no argument to justify this but the hilarious image of a miniature giant space hamster playing the phantom of the opera on a huge cathedral organ. 

Gortash | Acoustic Guitar (but not really)

Gortash will claim he plays guitar. He will claim it even faster if he is flirting (approximately 2 minutes into the conversation and/or maybe before even asking your name). He, however, does not. What he can do is play one song (wonderwall or alleluia take your pick) that he learned by heart back in highschool specifically to brag at parties and bag dates. In adulthood it works way less.

[doublelp]

ayo why do you like dropdead so much?

A few reasons.

I think they really pushed powerviolence in a great new direction. A lot of stuff at the time was mostly guys doing thrashcore stuff while experimenting with sludgy parts, which is great, don't get me wrong. I like Eric Wood's stuff like Crossed Out and Neanderthal, but with Man is the Bastard i kinda got the vibe he was mostly fucking around trying different things to see what would stick. Plus when you have a genre that's primarily a single scene (stuff out of the Bay Area like 625 Thrashcore and Slap-a-Ham), you tend to get a lot of bands that sounds similar. Meanwhile, Dropdead was on the east coast doing their own thing and making powerviolence with a crusty edge. Bob Otis was into bands like Crass and Swans too so he ended up picking up the best parts of his influences and incorporating them into Dropdead's incredible, unyielding aggression. It's so raw but honed at the same time, and I'm a sucker for good thrashcore anyway so it really resonated with me.

There's also the production on the 1993 and 1998 LPs. Those albums sound so fucking crisp, literally the ideal tone for every instrument. Bass is just muddy enough, drums pack an incredible punch, and the guitar cuts through nicely while synthesizing with the rest of the band. Meanwhile Bob Otis, in my genuine opinion, has the best vocals out of any hardcore band I've heard. It's a shame he can't quite shout like he used to because otherwise I would totally fuck with their 2020 album. If you listen to his vocals on Chosen Path, he's really giving it 110% and it makes all the difference imo. His passion comes through and it resonates with me, even though I'm not vegan lol.

On a different note, I try to get push Dropdead at every chance I can in the punk sharing community because there's an unfortunate trend where a lot of people are eager to claim punk subculture without substantially engaging with it. I think the issue is two-pronged, though I'd reckon they're connected: 1. Most of the people in the community like the aesthetics and political values of punk subculture (which are flimsy imo but that's another issue) without liking a lot of the noise, so they end up either listening to more "pleasant" punk music (pop punk, folk punk, riot grrrl) or simply don't listen to the music at all. This creates a weird trend where a lot of people who post their crust pants don't have any band patches on them (let alone crust punk bands). So, you know, listen to Dropdead. At least say someone put you on to them and that you tried it. 2. These people are not engaging with their local scenes, which is likely because they don't like the music to begin with. Some people have an excuse because they live in buttfuck nowhere and there is no scene in their town, but I would encourage people to expand their search to the nearest city and do some research about what punk or hardcore bands are playing shows there. If you're really About this shit then you'll put in the legwork to seek out local punk bands. Y'know, that's the thing that the subculture revolves around. The scene is so important man you get to meet cool people and be a part of something fun, but it's not on your computer screen or in the way you dress, it's at dive bars and church basements or wherever they could book an all-ages show.

So listen to Dropdead, figure out what's going on near you, and go to a show for once.

[kairiscorner]

i saw your miguel requests are open!! Yay!

Could you write a Miguel x f!reader where reader is a stubborn, confident daughter of a crime lord and Miguel is required to be her bodyguard even though she doesn't want anything to do with her father's work?

HI DEARRRRR OFC OFC !! sorry if the climax seemed so sudden, i just wanted to do something related to the third image on the header bc it looked so cute rgh ... anyway, hoping you like this !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

bodyguard!miguel o'hara x fem!reader

the guy your father hired to protect you was... a real piece of work.

first of all, he was worse than your dad; he refused to let you do anything by yourself or go anywhere all alone, even in the most private of places. he sits close by you, or across you, while eating–he stands outside of the comfort room, standing all menacingly by your stall door and glaring down at anybody who walked by, and he'd decline invitations to anywhere fun and exciting for you in fear that you'd 'get all rebellious' on your father. "do you not know how to have fun? i'm starting to think you were, what, synthesized in a lab, never experienced wanting to have some excitement in your life?" you asked him sarcastically as he drove you home, with you at the front seat–your arms folded over your chest as you narrowed your eyes at your stoic-faced bodyguard.

miguel didn't budge and kept his eyes on the road; expertly driving without flinching or looking away one bit from the road ahead of you two. you raised an eyebrow and sighed, slumping further into your seat. "you're like the terminator, like, i don't even know if you kill people, but you're like him–a mindless robot that can only follow orders." you said with a huff. he finally spoke soon enough as you two hit a red light. "your father's paying me to follow orders, not to do anything else, let alone have idle chit-chat with his daughter." he said pretty bluntly and monotonously, making you groan exaggeratedly. "of course he would never pay for me to have a friend. he did when i was seven years old, though, that went to shit after a while, however." you blabbed as miguel looked at you from the corner of his eye.

"wait, of course, you don't wanna hear it." "no, no, keep talking, ma'am." miguel then blurted out himself. "that is... if you wish to keep talking." he added, distancing himself from you while still getting a little closer than ever before. you were surprised at how miguel was taking the initiative to talk to you, and you figured that since you had nothing better to do, why not tell this man your whole life story, thoughts, problems, and... just everything you've been keeping to yourself all this time. "fuck, i wanna leave home." you confessed to him as miguel slowed the car down, coming to a turn. "...and why's that?" he asked you, making you immediately shrug in response. "well, my dad wants to protect me and all, which, i'm grateful for, but... i don't wanna have a part in everything he does, i don't want... i don't want to do what he does, and i'm scared that, one day... i will end up like him." you confessed, tears streaming down your cheeks without you realizing. this has happened multiple times while you were alone, but never with anyone else–you'd sometimes cry without you realizing and mask it up, switch your emotions like flicking a switch on and off.

miguel, for the first time in a long while, turned his head to look at you and away from the road for a bit. he slowed down his driving and just... looked onto your scared, worried eyes that reflected just how fearful you were of becoming like your father. you were always so daring, rebellious, and confident to boot–you never showed fear unless it was a real, tangible fear you felt like it might come true one day if you weren't careful. he cleared his throat and looked up ahead, back on the road. "it's not my place to say anything regarding this matter, i'm not the most well-equipped person to have anything remotely helpful to say about any of this, but, um... you don't know that." he whispered those last few words in a small, creaking voice, not even sure why he's saying what he's saying; gulping back the already spoken words and shirking back in the driver's seat silently.

you sniffled back the tears you didn't realize you were holding in and looked at him quizzically. "...don't know what?" you asked him with a gentle voice, prompting him to finish his thought. miguel sighed and pulled up to the driveway, cutting through the dark evening with the bright lights illuminating from the luxurious car miguel drove you in and shut off the ignition, shifting in his seat as anxiety and nervousness filled his mind. "you... you don't know if you'll really be like him. you're not your father, you might not even become your father; you're... you. and, i like you for who you are, for all your snarkiness, cheekiness, you giving me a hard time all the time, i... i appreciate you as you are now." he finished, feeling his face get all flustered as he saw the way your eyes shone in the dark, how your tears from earlier glistened as the moon shone above and let light pour down upon your twinkling face. he got out of the car and went over to your door as usual to escort you out, but when he got close to your door, you left the window open and—as he got nearer towards you—you grabbed him gently by his tie, pulled him in close, and pressed your plush lips against his. you didn't know what you just did or why you even did what you did—but something about his words stuck to you and compelled you to... do some things you'd keep to yourself.

"i, um... thank you. you're... not as emotionless as i thought you'd be, i-i suppose..." you murmured silently as you pulled away from him and let his tie slip from your hands as you scooched out of the passenger and driver's seat, exiting out the door miguel left through; watching him stare at you with widened eyes and a bashful, surprised look on his face that made him think and ask himself, 'was that... real?' he merely nodded and kept clearing his throat as he stumbled away from the car, but fumbling the keys in his hands to lock the doors once he realized he forgot to do so. you swore you heard him mutter how 'soft your lips felt, how 'if your dad learned about that... there was no telling what'd happen to him', but most of all—you swore that he seemed softer, kinder, and a lot more vulnerable than before you kissed him.

he seemed so much warmer now, somehow...

this wasn't stopping you totally from overthinking all the time, though, it was good to know that he respected you as a person as opposed to some girl he was going to protect at all costs. but the reason why you kissed him... it sent your face to a furious fluster and made your brain short-circuit even remembering it all, made you weak in the knees and stutter a whole lot while thinking about it, looking forward to the next time you'd see him, for once.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[andrew-thy-accursed]

You like Vocaloid right? (I hope so cause you drew miku stuff and I’m gonna feel so dumb if you don’t…) For some reason I’m a little embarrassed to ask this and expose myself (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ What producers and music do you like? And who’s your favorite Vocaloid?

I like some of the ‘darker’ stuff like Nashimoto-P, Neru, and Masa (especially his old metal), but also stuff on the full metal side like Utsu-P, Soooo, and Eve-P! Of course I also like Deco*27, KZ, Mitchi-M and so many other things that it’s hard to list everything with doing an info dump and getting excited so pardon me.

Yes! I've loved vocaloid almost as long as I have metal, if not longer. (For a few years in middle school all I would draw was Rin lmao)

As for producers, I'm extremely picky because I tend to like half of a P's work and then not the rest. But as of right now it's gonna be Mothy, Utsu-P, PowaPowa, and MARETU. Just some that come to mind first! I will mention that even though I'm a fan of Utsu-P I'm very picky because a lot of the songs they produce are a metal style I'm not really a fan of. (Not that it's bad at all! It's just not my fav kind of metal)

As for my fav vocaloids? Obviously Miku will always be my #1 but besides her it would either be Kaito, Ruko (yes an UTAU I know), Galaco, VY2, or YOHIO. I'm hesitant to say Kaito because I have some absolute GRIPES with how people tune him to sing the most high pitched songs when that is NOT what he is meant for (not to mention I think some versions of Kaito sound fucking awful on those songs) BUT he was my favorite next to Miku ever since middle school so I have a long time of loving him 💙

It's funny you ask this because I just closed my laptop for bed as I was drawing EuroDead as Vocal Synthesizers 😆