#completely unintended effect

[anonymiso]

every time i get a new very extremely big mindwashing interest (i think it’s a hyper fix but i’m not sure!) i go to tumblr immediately and then disappear off of the face of tumblr a week after or so at MOST

-…..harry p0tter

- sherlock bbc

- good omens

- project sekai

- good omens (again)

and i think i’m staying for good this time because good omens tumblr is simply unmatched

[coquelicoq]

well i've caught up on the double. which means i am depressed!!!! at least [redacted]'s death scene was homoerotic. (me fully weeping: at least this is being directly paralleled with a het lovers death scene. at least [other stuff i am redacting for spoilers but just trust me bro].) anyway to pass the time until 29 drops does anyone want to help me with a reference post i'm writing about the names of jiang li's family members? let's play a game called Name That Hanzi! wherein i give you an image of some hanzi and you give me text versions that i can copy and paste. i did my best but i hit a wall on this one. here's the image:

[ID: Screencap of Jiang Li from The Double showing her title card with her two names, Jiang Ruoyu and Jiang Li. The names are also displayed in hanzi. /end ID]

so far i've got 姜若雨 for jiang ruoyu on the left, but i'm not confident about those second and third characters (like those strokes are not even all in the right direction. but maybe it's the script?). and on the right we have 字 (zi, courtesy name), SOME CHARACTER THAT HAS STYMIED ME (help me studio audience), and 梨 (li).

(also sidenote is it just me who totally missed that she has a courtesy name? and that apparently it's li that is her courtesy name, and it's the other name, ruoyo, that no one ever uses? also sidenote of the sidenote the ruo character is the same one in her sister ruoyao's name. so maybe they have a generational name? their dad and his brothers all share a character as well (yuan, 元). their little brother bingji doesn't have ruo in his name though. so maybe not.)

[mikumixtwix]

hc that While the Divine Beasts were left dormant until shortly before Link awakened, the SOS signals that the champions sent out continued to broadcast over the course of those 100 years. There's no tech left in Hyrule that's able to receive the signals in their entirety, even Purah and Robbie are only able to pick up snippets on rare occasions. The SOS's are left to only bounce back and forth between the 4 Beasts, an endless echo chamber for the champions of their calls for help.

As he journeys to each Beast, occasionally the SOS's will break through and be picked up by the Sheikah Slate. He can't recall what the pattern of beeping means exactly, but it fills him with dread every time he hears it. It's only once he stops the Beasts and frees the champions that the signals finally stop broadcasting.

[arolesbianism]

Developing the random card au sekai mini stories a bit more and I'm loving the comedy Im building with Kanade and Honami. Honami vc this girl lives out in the middle of nowhere near an area where ghost sightings have been reported, and she's so deathly pale and almost dead looking, that nearby ghost must have rly gotten to her :(

[suppermariobroth]

In Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga, barrels are extremely glitched objects. Normally, they are rarely encountered and are only used by having Luigi tunnel under them and pop up so he is wearing the barrel, which allows Mario to stand on it to solve some puzzles.

However, by performing very specific inputs while wearing a barrel, the game becomes immensely unstable, with the screen sometimes filling up completely with glitched graphics, and large amounts of other unintended effects. One particularly notable effect is that if the barrel is manipulated as part of the glitch to be on Mario instead of Luigi, then performing a High Jump on it will quit out of the game entirely, and open up the Mario Bros. game that is present on the cartridge as a bonus in addition to Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga.

This results in a glitch that has the power to warp the user to a completely different game.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source: youtube.com user "altabiscuit"

[doumadono]

think if reader had muzan's child and they're breastfeeding their baby & he see the child getting milk, would he be like 'hey. gimme some of that.' i imagine reader would be flustered but down for it aha

SINFUL SUNDAY

Muzan found himself in an unexpected situation. Clad in his usual elegant attire, Muzan stood beside you, the mother of his child, as you cradled your newborn in your arms. The soft glow of the moonlight falling through a large window bathed the chamber.

Your infant, a delicate mix of human and demon heritage, nestled against your chest, eagerly latching onto your breast for sustenance.

Muzan observed with a calculating gaze, his crimson eyes narrowing as he fixated on the scene before him. "I want some of that too," Muzan's voice, smooth and tinged with arrogance, sliced through the silence. His eyes bore into yours, a twisted curiosity playing in their depths. There was a certain arrogance in his demeanor, as if he believed that even the act of breastfeeding held a power dynamic that he could exploit.

You arched an eyebrow, unimpressed by his audacity. "You're a demon king, Muzan-sama. I hardly think breast milk is on the menu for someone of your stature."

Muzan's lips curled into a sly smile, revealing sharp fangs. "Stature has nothing to do with cravings, my dear mortal. A feeble concoction of life's essence, bestowed upon the weak and vulnerable is making me curious." The demon king circled around you, his gaze never leaving the child at your breast.

With a sense of reluctant compliance, you nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate dance required to navigate the temperamental whims of the father of your child. Gently cradling the infant in your arms, you approached a meticulously crafted wooden crib, adorned with the most opulent silk blanket money could buy. You carefully nestled the child within the confines of its plush sanctuary.

Upon your return to Muzan's presence, you once again nodded, a gesture that carried the weight of unspoken acquiescence. The Demon Lord, perched regally, regarded you with an air of entitlement as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him on an elegantly crafted couch. Complying, you lowered yourself gracefully onto the plush cushions, the atmosphere tinged with a subtle tension.

Without delay, Muzan's hands moved with a possessive confidence, cupping yours breast in a gesture that bespoke both control and desire. Muzan deftly slid the strap of your nightgown from your shoulder, revealing a portion of your chest. His gaze fixated on the rounded swell of your breast, brimming with nourishing milk. The baby's suckling had left the aureola of your breast darkened.

The demon bent down, taking the bud into his mouth. He began to suckle gently, ensuring the sharp edges of his fangs didn't cause any discomfort to you. As the milk flowed into his mouth, he hummed with satisfaction, savoring the runny sweetness that gradually evolved with each sip.

You found yourself in a bewildering situation, unsure of how to react as he drank your milk. Eventually, you tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder, seeking a semblance of stability.

He continued to suckle, delicately pressing against the breast with his chilly hand. His long, pointed nails lightly brushed against the tender flesh, making you yelp a little.

"Shhh," he whispered, taking the bud out of his mouth to look directly at you. "We don't want the baby to wake up."

Muzan swiftly removed your remaining sleeve of the nightgown, revealing your chest completely to his hungry, crimson eyes. He then shifted his focus to the other breast, wrapping his lips around the hardened nipple. He took his time, gently sucking while flicking his tongue against the hardened bud. The milk spilled into his mouth again, prompting a satisfied hum. The entire experience, he realized, had an unintended consequence — his pants felt uncomfortably tight in the crotch.

The experience had a profound effect on you as well. You moaned quietly in relief as he eased the tension in your breasts by gently drinking the accumulated milk. "Oh, my lord," you whispered, gently caressing his shoulder.

Muzan took your hand and directed it toward his groin, where a noticeable bulge had formed.

Without a second thought, you sensed the texture of his hardened penis through the fabric of his pants and began to delicately massage it whilst his tongue massaged the erected nipple.

As things intensified, Muzan pulled away, fixing a stern gaze on your flushed face. "Take off your clothes," he commanded, his tone firm and demanding. "I want to take you, right here and now. And who knows, perhaps you'll birth me another heir soon."

[prokopetz]

Unsure if you are aware of this update, but apparently someone got into the Twit api and believes that the "rate limiting" is actually a cover up by Elon bc they accidenlty pushed an update DDOSing their own site, which is why he says its "temporary" in his tweet. Not sure if Elon is actually trying to cover-up, or if the DDOS is an unintended side effect of the change

(With reference to this post here.)

As far as I can tell, the folks advancing that theory have it perfectly backwards. The rate limit isn't an effort to address the self-DDoS situation: the rate limit is causing the self-DDoS situation.

In a nutshell, when you load up Twitter in your browser, two things are happening:

In response to your initial request, Twitter's server sends your browser the information it needs to construct the website's user interface (UI).

Once the UI has been constructed within your browser, it instructs your browser to dispatch a separate request, via the Twitter API, requesting content (i.e., tweets and ads) to fill itself with.

(It's actually a little more complex than that, because the response to the initial request may come pre-filled with a portion of the required content in order to speed things up the first time you visit your dashboard, but that's the gist of it, anyway.)

So, what happens now that the rate limit is in place?

Well, the rate limit doesn't affect the first request – it's not using the API, so your browser is able to construct the Twitter UI just fine. The moment you try to scroll your Twitter dashboard, however, that triggers the Twitter UI that's been constructed within your browser to ask the Twitter API for more content so you can keep scrolling – and that request is subject to the rate limit.

If you happen already to have exceeded your rate limit, that request is going to receive a response along the lines of "Error 429 – Rate Limit Exceeded". Here's the trick: while Twitter did update the UI to reflect the addition of a rate limit (i.e., they're not complete idiots), it turns out they did an incomplete job, and certain dashboard widgets don't know what to do with an error 429.

Now, the fun part: apparently, what the affected Twitter dashboard widgets are coded to do when they receive a response they don't recognise is simply to ignore it and try again. Further, nobody thought to impose a delay between attempts, so they retry immediately upon receiving the unrecognised error 429. For users with snappy Internet service, this can result in their browser making multiple attempts per second to retrieve content for the affected Twitter dashboard widgets, receiving (and ignoring) the same error code each time.

And that's how Twitter ended up accidentally ordering its own users to DDoS its API.

[theerurishipper]

Superbat Week Day 3: Alien Biology

For @superbatweek2024

“I’ve been meaning to ask, how exactly is it that you fly?”

Clark looks at Bruce, eyebrow raised quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Bruce starts, gesturing at Clark’s form as the man in question happily eats Chocos out of the box, “how exactly does it work? J’onn, for instance, levitates with the help of his telekinetic abilities. It would be useful to understand how it works for you.”

Clark then gives him a huge grin, eyes twinkling with either amusement or the option Bruce hates most: mischief. “It’s because I actually have invisible wings!”

“Clark.”

“No, it’s true,” Clark insists, eyes wide. “Kryptonian biology is very different from most species, you know.”

“Clark.”

“Fine, fine,” Clark huffs. “It’s no fun trying to pull the wool over your eyes, you know? You could throw me a bone every now and then.”

“Of course,” Bruce admits. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Clark throws his Chocos at him, grinning.

--

“Hey, Spooky!”

Bruce turns begrudgingly at the grating sound of Hal Jordan’s voice. He supresses the part of him that is curious. After all, Hal usually— and thankfully— avoids him for the most part. It gives Bruce a lot more peace in his day, but also has the unintended and unwelcome side effect of making him interested whenever the man swallows his pride to approach him.

“Did you know about this? Did you know and just decide to keep this from everyone?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Hal rolls his eyes. “I’m talking about Supes, man.” He looks around the empty corridor, and leans in closer to Bruce, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Did you know that he has invisible wings?”

It must be an effect of all the idiocy in the air around him, but it’s almost like Bruce can feel his thoughts coming to a screeching halt in his head.

“I… he what?”

The first thing that occurs to him when his brain begins to function again is that Clark is probably way prouder of this idea than he has any right to be. And apparently, for good reason, because Hal seems completely taken in.

Bruce hates being wrong. Especially about this.

“Yeah! He sorta mentioned it in passing… but damn, you think you know a guy, huh?”

Bruce says nothing. He simply watches Hal stand before him, rubbing his head in consternation. And in his fugue state, Bruce makes one of the most questionable decisions of his life.

“I knew.”

“What?” Hal shrieks. “You knew? And didn’t mention this to anyone?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Hal frowns. “I guess…” Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair, frustration visible on his face. “I guess you’d know that, huh? And I can safely say that it’s the truth, cause you’re allergic to pranks and fun.”

“Goodbye, Jordan.”

--

By the end of the day, the whole Watchtower knows of Superman’s magical invisible wings. Bruce can hear the poorly hushed conversations flooding through the entire satellite.

“Batman said he had them, so it must be true!”

“Yeah, he hates fun, he’d never go along with it if it was a prank!”

If only they knew.

--

“—And now people keep asking if they can feel them!” Clark huffs, head resting on Bruce’s lap.

“Mm.”

“It was funny at first, and it still is… but now, I think it’s falling apart.”

Bruce pats his forehead. “All pranks come to an end. It’s an immutable fact of life.”

“It’s just too good to be over so soon!”

Bruce wisely keeps his thoughts about the quality of Clark’s pranks to himself. Instead, he looks up from his laptop to observe the silent pout on his face, and makes a few calculated decisions. Then he picks up one of Alfred’s cookies and tosses it at Clark’s face.

“What’s this for?” asks Clark, confusedly.

“I’m throwing this at you, in lieu of a bone.”

--

Bruce has faced many dangers throughout his career as a superhero. Dangerous criminals, the best martial artists in the world, magic users, and even literal demons. But this might be the hardest thing he’s ever done.

“You want me to make Clark a pair of…” Zatanna trails off, and looks back down at the piece of paper he’d handed her. “…invisible attachable magic wings?”

“Yes.”

Zatanna looks up at him, looking absolutely miserable.

“What did you do this time?”

Bruce bristles and glares. “Nothing.”

“If you’re in the doghouse, it’s best you fix whatever you’ve done on your own—”

“It’s not an apology present. I’m helping him with a project.” Zatanna looks mildly curious for a split second, and realization dawns on her face.

“So his invisible wings aren’t real?” she whispers, looking stricken.

Self-control. Bruce is a master of self-control. He will not raise his palm to slap it against his forehead. He will not give into that ever-present urge.

“Of course not.”

“Damn,” she murmurs, looking away as though revaluating her entire existence. Luckily for her, so is Bruce.

But she bounces back fairly quickly, which is only a credit to her character. “All right, I’m down.”

“Thank you.”

--

“You know,” Zatanna insists as she rolls up her sleeves theatrically, wand already held in her hand, “I’ve never seen you go the extra mile for a prank before. You really love him, don’t you?”

“…Just do the spell.”

--

Clark’s wings are a big hit. The Hawks are especially thrilled. Bruce loses just a little more faith in everyone’s competency per second.

But seeing Clark’s excited face as he beats his invisible wings and bamboozles everybody within arm’s reach makes it all worth it. Not that he would ever admit as much to the man himself.

But unfortunately (or fortunately, if Alfred is to be believed), Clark knows him too well for all that.

“How hard was it to ask Zatanna to make these for me?” When Bruce doesn’t reply, Clark just grins, his arms coming to wrap around Bruce from the back. “I bet it was hard. I know how much you hate asking for favours.”

“They aren’t permanent, so enjoy them while they last.”

“Sure, sure.” Clark stops speaking, and the Batcave is left in its natural state of silence.

“Thank you, Bruce.”

Bruce doesn’t turn to look at him. “It’s just a pair of wings. Zatanna made them in five seconds.”

“That’s not what I mean. I just—” Clark leans in closer, pressing himself against Bruce’s back, and Bruce can feel his warmth flooding through him.

“This was the silliest thing ever, but you went along with it anyway.”

“Clark.” Bruce turns himself around in Clark’s arms, and lays a hand on his face. “It’s not silly. If you found it amusing, who am I to get in your way?”

“I was so sure you found it… what’s the word you used? Juvenile?”

Bruce gives him one of his lesser, weaker glares. “And now you’ve decided that I’m an expert in comedy? After all the time I’ve spent projecting the opposite?” Clark just laughs, quietly, subdued in a way that leaves Bruce feeling profoundly uneasy.

“I guess…”

Bruce pats his head, ruffling through his hair. “Since when have you cared so much about what I think?”

Clark just looks at him, and then sighs, dropping his head down onto Bruce’s shoulder. “I always care about what you think,” he mutters. “Your opinion means the world to me.”

Bruce’s first thought is to tell Clark that his faith is misplaced. That Bruce isn’t as worthy of admiration or respect as Clark seems to think. That Clark is giving him far too much credit.

But there’s something in the way Clark says those words, quiet and heavy, that renders him speechless, unable to say anything; something that leaves him wishing that it could be true. And so, he just stands there, in Clark’s embrace, trying to convey all the things he can’t say.

It’s Clark who breaks the silence, obviously. “You know… if I told you I had invisible wings right now, that wouldn’t be a lie…”

“I suppose so.”

“I guess I am different from you today. Biologically. Even on the outside.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

 “So…” Clark lifts his head up to look at him, expression positively sultry. “There’s a lot of fun we could have with these. Don’t you think so?”

Bruce just looks into his eyes, and raises a hand to run his finger along the soft surface of Zatanna’s magical wings. He drags his hand back, and rests both his arms around Clark’s neck.

“Let it never be said that I don’t know how to have a good time.”

Clark laughs, and kisses him.

--

“You know,” Clark says, conversationally, idly messing with Bruce’s hair. “I might not have actually had magic wings, but you know what I do have?”

“A penchant for silly pranks?”

Bruce looks up to find Clark waggling his eyebrows, mayhem already gathering in his eyes. “Well, yes,” Clark says, “but I was thinking more along the lines of horns that can detect lies. What do you think?”

Bruce just sighs, and buries his face in Clark’s shoulder. “I can’t lie to your horns. That’s a terrible idea.”

“So…”

“Fine. Let’s do it.”

---

Read on AO3

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I think Hobie brown is the one character I've seen written completely out of character the most

Like, he would NOT say that

He definitely is. I see people write Miles and Gwen as spot on (pun unintended). Miguel and Pavitr are usually butchered for linguistics reasons

But with Hobie, him being a punk - one from a very specific time - adds a whole new layer of difficultly and honestly. At this point, I can't even blame people.

I think Hobie's mischaracterization is caused by two primary things, one purposeful, and one not. Please allow me to rant.

Hobie Brown, Mischaracterization, and the Sanitization of Punk Culture

I think Hobie's characterization is the perfect example of the way media purposely deminished and trivialized the punk identity in order to erase it's political connotations.

In other words, people misunderstanding Hobie shows how the media warped and censored the definition of 'punk' in the last 50 years.

And that's on purpose.

Let's take the hippies for an example. When you think of them, what beliefs comes to mind?

Peacefulness, usually. Pot smoking. Music loving. And Anti-war. They love peace. The phrase 'Make Love, Not War' make come to mind.

But it's easier for the media to historically display hippies as people who were opposed to war - rather than people who were openly oppossed to the Vietnamese War.

As in, they weren't just opposed to war - which they were. They were also specifically opposed to the United States government crossing borders in order to push a capitalist agenda in Vietnam.

It's easy to say hippes loved communes - then to say 'Hippies were Communist'. With a couple words switched around - sanitization.

Punk is just like that.

It's easier to focus on the response rather than the source. It's easier to look at Hobie singing than to consider what he'd be singing about in those songs.

I feel like in the past 50 years the media has purposely centered the outrage of punk around music - as a targeted distraction, and a method of silencing. This goes from the outward hatred of Sex Pistols - to a President's wife literally taking a metal band to court in order to get the 'Explicit Content label' instated for the first time.(crazyyyy long story- crazy interesting. Google 'Mary Gore vs Twister Sister' - the videos of the band in court is hilarious)

But anyway the outrage of punk music in specific and the silencing of the message behind it kinda changed the way people viewed punks.

Media very much wanted to make punk something about senseless rebellion towards everything, the same way they tried to turn anarchy into 'unending chaos that never stops', when neither of those things are true.

Basically saying 'Oh, those people over there? They aren't angry oppressed people screaming and forming a community based around resilience, those are teeennagerrs. theyre just screaming cause theyre mad at their dads or something PLEASE dont look at them PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT CHECK IF WE'RE TELLING THE TRUTH'

And so people are presented with someone like Hobie, they see the loud music, but not picking up what he's saying if you get my drift.

And the other thing I'll try to keep short.

It's not purposeful, but I think it matters.

The Internet - Subculture vs Aesthetic

I don't think this is something that's been talked about yet.

But I feel like a lot of people misunderstand what a subculture is. So when they see Hobie, they see fashion, and music taste, and attitude. They instead perceive him as an aesthetic. Not someone who participates in subculture.

Subculture is a way of life. It encompasses not only your fashion and music tastes, but it can and usually extends to things like your morals, your behaviors, the spaces you exist in, etc.

Goth, Punk, Vegans, hell - even Nudists - are all subcultures. Because they effects the persons lifestyle. Subcultures are lifestyles.

Aesthetics are not.

An aesthetic is a (usually) visual ambience that is meant to evoke a specific emotion.

Aesthetics can extend to fashion, decor, and music taste - but not your morality or behavior.

E-girls, Emos, Hipsters, what have you - all aesthetics as they do not encompass morals, or behaviors.

And because of that - there are things that do or don't make you a punk. But there aren't really things that do or don't 'make you emo'.

Aesthetics don't have conditions, but subcultures do.

You have to be anti-government to be punk. You don't have to hate your life to be emo.

(Which is why when people bring this up, people are quick to call 'gatekeeping!' Because in the context of aethetics gatekeeping is seen as unneccesary, whereas in subcultures 'gatekeping' is more so protecting the underlying beliefs and motivations of the movement. People who see Hobie as an aesthetic will find these conditions odd because they're not seeing his punkness as a subculture.)

Today on the internet, it's a lot more common and easy to engage in an aesthetic. It's not uncommon for someone to purposefully pick an aesthetic - and go all out - simply because they like it. It's great. I engage with an aesthetic all the time.

But because of that, when people see Hobie it's easy to immediately be like 'oh okay hes doing it out of fashion hes doing it because he vibes with it cool.'

They look at Hobie the way they would look at an eboy (do those still exist).

______________________________________________

Sooo mixing the censored image of a punk along with the modern-day instinct to perceive something as an aesthetic rather than a way of life kinda causes.....this.

A Hobie tag were a lot of people completely misunderstand who he is as a person and his motivations as a superhero outside of 'I hate the establishment'.

Plus add in a dash of people just being totally blank on 70's politics. The Vietnam War, Margaret Thatcher coming to power, the IRA, etc. - all of those things I think tells us a lot about Hobie. I'm currently on a piece about that and an explainer of most of those events. Or if you want a brief rundown please feel free to ask, I'll do my best.

If you wanna know Hobie more - don't listen to punk music. Go read the lyrics, if you get what I mean. They truly do have something to say.

Hope this made some sense, thanks for reading if you made it this far :) also no proofread we die like kings but ill most likely do it later and delete this note.

[jp-nichts]

The Takahe

Curious about the mech on the cover of Reactors & Romance?

The frame is called the Takahe. It's named after a flightless bird from New Zealand of the same name. Even though the mech's "tail feathers" are massive jump jets meant to get this thing soaring!

Lore wise, its a frame designed for mobility and exploration of both terrestrial and space environments. The cockpit is located in the chest, and has an expanded compartment to provide barebones living quarters for extended away missions. Since the pilot isn't located in the head, it's head packed with various sensors and long ranged coms. Perfect for surveying and keeping in contact with distant teammates. It might not have the versatility of arms to pick-up different weapons on the fly, but it's head mounted weapons have exceptional accuracy due to the dampeners in it's neck. These dampeners do have the unintended side effect of making the head bob like a pigeon or chicken when the frame is running pigeon

Like most of my mech designs this one originally started off as a Lego build of mine for the game Mobile Frame Zero. A table top wargame that uses Lego mechs as minis. It's a lot of fun by the way. You should check it out HERE (I think I still have some of my bird mechs featured on their website)

My Lego Takahe build is actually a larger version of my Kiwi mech. Which is very similar in design to the Takahe, just smaller and cuter. I love these little guys and have made so many of them over the years.

Like... sooooo many! I have a whole Pride collection of them with each one colored as a different pride flag.

Here is the first painting I did of the Takahe, which also inspired the color pallet for Reactors & Romance.

I also did some pixel art of the mech too. I was hoping to use for a Lancer game, but that didn't happened. I did get to include it as part of my NPC roster for a game of Celestial Bodies that I ran! The players did a great job completely obliterating my children 😂

[sepublic]

I like how Luz and King, whose arcs involve their relationship with fantasy because they're kids (in contrast to Eda, who is much older and has different baggage), have different relationships with those fantasies; Esp due to what those fantasies were.

King drops his wholesale; His fantasy was about being a tyrant who destroyed his enemies, which is inherently destructive in practice. And with him realizing how much power he DOES wield now, and must be responsible over -both in his friendship with the Collector and status as a Titan- it makes sense he just abandons that completely, especially in foil to a certain witch hunter. And he abandons that fantasy because it wasn't actually what King wanted, and he's figured that out now. His fantasy admittedly started off as a delusion fed by Eda, too.

Luz still keeps hers; She's just learned to maintain a healthy balance, deciding when and when not to embrace and pursue it. This can be attributed to Azura being far less about destroying enemies; Aside from the Gildersnake, it seems most of her stories are on the friendlier, mundane side, with things like sports and growing plants. But we do see how even the former can get distorted and hurt others, hence Wing it like Witches. Likewise, Luz holding onto her fantasy is her way of keeping her father Manny alive, and embracing her weirdness, who she is as a person, etc.

There's a dichotomy with these siblings' fantasies, and even the origin of them; King's came about as Eda humoring him, but not knowing when to make a distinction for her kid. Meanwhile Manny gave Luz's fantasy to her, and it was about keeping her spirit alive, and not just the fun... But the fun matters too of course. So Luz's relationship with her fantasy is her relationship with Manny, because of its inspiration in Dana receiving Pokemon Red from her father before his death. So she can't just drop it, Luz needs to learn to live with it healthily like Eda learns to live with the curse, etc.

And it's a way for Luz to continue her living relationship with her other parent Camila, who understands now, and wants to cultivate fantasy in her daughter and even herself again to bond over; Something Luz initially refuses out of self-loathing, and a misguided attempt to reconnect with Camila when she thought the opposite -pursuing fantasy- was what pulled them apart. But it was because of the death of their wonder and the enforcement of that by the system, and mother and daughter finally rekindle their light in For the Future together.

You can also see Titanlights' relationship with fantasy through the Titan, another parental figure whom is mutual for these sibs. The Titan is the setting and thus embodies a lot of the show's themes; The Titan is Just Some Dude after all of the insincere, destructive hype of being a God. And this is how King wants to follow. Likewise, the Titan explains to Luz that she needs to forgive herself for her dream's unintended side effects, and by passing his power onto her briefly, allows Luz to live out her dream as much as she can, and remember that afterwards. Luz internalizes both the Titan's mundanity and encouragement for her healthy relationship with fiction, and King gets his new dream by seeing his dad's spirit in action, as well as a personal message; I loaf you.

[bardicbird]

Working on my own Disco Elysium skills! Individual art pieces and descriptions (in the style of the game) below the cut :]

DIALECTICS

Examine verbal landscapes. Get to the truth of the matter.

Cool for: Logicians, Philosophers, Asshole Devil’s Advocates

Dialetics urges you to look beyond the basics of conversation. It encourages you to discuss theories, truths and falsehoods, until you exhaust everyone around you with your sheer affinity for taking the most convoluted routes to your deductions—but, hey, it works! Those people are only *really* annoyed because you very accurately psychoanalyzed them.

At high levels, Dialectics will help you reason with even the most convoluted of situations. You will be an unstoppable detective, who may occasionally suffer from some unintended side effects such as: your brain and mouth moving too fast, overcomplicating little things, becoming an insufferable jerk, and joining your local debate team. With low levels of Dialectics, you’re going to have a difficult time seeing through both worldly and interpersonal deceptions. You may find yourself being taken advantage of. 

EVOCATION

Recall emotions and imagery. Paint complete pictures of the past. 

Cool for: Visualizers, Chronic Observers, Witnesses Of Crimes

Evocation allows you to call forth memories that may otherwise be lost in the recesses of your mind. Previous instances of sound, touch, taste, feeling, sight—all of these are at your beck and call: able to be summoned within and around you in a great miasma of experience. You will be able to relive important events, even those that were only mere seconds, and examine them closer to reveal what you couldn’t comprehend in the moment. 

At high levels, Evocation will help you reimagine scenes that may have happened years ago, lasted the length of a blink—or, perhaps, even allow you to picture memories that you were not present for. You will find yourself constantly transported to the past: a single whiff of a familiar perfume enough to completely derail your senses. With low levels of Evocation, you’re going to have a hard time remembering simple conversations and potentially important visual details. You will have to rely on others in such scenarios. 

BODY OF LAWS

Know your rights. Remember fun courtroom trivia. 

Cool for: Lawyers, Law-Evaders, Stick-In-The-Muds

Body Of Laws is responsible for your ability to follow the law at any given time—or don’t! Just because you know the rules doesn’t mean you have to play by them. Regardless, it certainly allows you to recall a, frankly, embarrassing amount of your government’s regulations, and may encourage you to ‘stay in your lane’, so to speak, regarding them. Governments aren’t the only entities that enact rules, though: you will also find yourself privy to understanding unspoken boundaries set by people, nature, and even your subconscious self.

At high levels, Body Of Laws will either make you an *extremely* insufferable goody-two-shoes, or a *wildly* effective cheat-of-the-system. You may end up feeling suffocated by all these restrictions you can so clearly see, causing you to become complicit with the movings of the machine—or potentially apathetic to why we need some of these restrictions in the first place. With low levels of Body Of Laws, you may find yourself accidentally violating boundaries you didn’t know existed—whether they be legal, personal, or cultural. 

[directdogman]

hi dog!! i saw you answer someone's question about the dentistry business in dialtown. and ive had a similar question floating in my brain for a while so i figured i'd just ask lol

was there any sort of job crisis for certain positions after the dialup?? i feel like hairdressers would've probably been hit hard. or while something like. an optometrist wouldn't seem like it would completely go away (optical sensors), there had to be a bit of an adjustment from working with organic eyeballs to technology.

okay thats it, thanks! :p

Hmm, there is a kind of nuance to explain with the dentristry thing:

Otorhinolaryngology (ear doctors), ophthalmology (eye doctors) and dentistry got merged into a single, more competitive profession, so they really all got the short end of the stick in a sense. They all had to relearn their trade a signal unified thing, and while there's specialists for all 3 of the sub field (not every dentist specializes in optical sensors, for instance), cleaning locked air in closed systems is quite a bit simpler, meaning there's a lot less money to be made in specializing in that versus, say, repairing optical sensors.

Part of Crown's reasoning with the object heads was to cut down on the organic complexity of the human body. This wasn't an unintended side effect as much as a very intentional change.

A lot of occupations still worked over in some way. Object heads can still get facial piercings, be dyed to have tattoos (though stickers are now more viable as decorations bc phone heads lack skin and contain more flat surfaces), etc etc. Barbers is one example I'd have given as an obsolete profession, though there's a very small industry of toupee manufacturers, still. (Phonald Ringin has one in his ending of Randy's route!)

[lastnightstoryart]

Not only do I love making art, I love looking at art. As obvious as that is, it has the unintended effect of constantly wanting to completely change my entire personality. One second I see Yoshitaka Amano's art, and want to switch to watercolors and soft pencil lines. The other second, I see something from Akira Toriyama and want to go for beautiful inked line art with exaggerated worlds and characters. I see something hyperrealistic and am in awe of it, but a moment later see something super simplistic and/or abstract and want to learn exactly that.

There is nothing wrong with any of this, and finding your own art style is all about trying out different things and constantly evolving. But when you have 100 different artists that you want to learn from at the same time, you end up not learning from any of them. Aargh!

[rakurairagnarok]

You mentioned something about side effects with your products?

Well I'm always interested in seeing what happens with side effects and unintended interactions, so I'd love to get two pieces of clothing from you and try them both on to see what happens.

Maybe one of them can give me balls that can blow huge loads 10 times a day, and the other can be something to turn me into a bulky stud full of protein farts.

Can't wait to see what to see what the side effects do to me ;)

Due to a lack of sustainability, we won't be able to grant 100% of your request, and we hope you'll forgive us.

Arriving home from work you are slightly surprised to find a package in your lawn.

You open it up to find a pair of jeans that look slightly worn.

Inspecting the denim , you find a small logo reading Rakurai Inc.

You smile in excitement, you had heard amazing stories about this company and couldn't wait to try it on. You almost ripped of your pants and quickly stepped into the jeans.

Once you zipped up your fly, you feel your dick stirring. You wait for the transformation to happen.

As nothing happens you sigh. Seems the rumors were not true after all.

Such a shame, you had gotten super horny wearing these, and now it seems there is no pay off.

You smile at your bulge, before frowning. Your bulge looks way bigger than usual. You poke it softly with your finger, looking if its just a feature of the jeans, and intense pleasure sends through your whole body. Your bulge continues to grow, feeling your knees buckle as the blood continues to pump into your rod.

You manage to pull up your jeans somewhat , seeing that your underwear has disintegrated, and giving you a chance to look at your massive behemoth of a dick.

It continues snaking down your leg, continuing growing, pulsing and leaking.

Your brain starts to feel fuzzy, as you feel your intelect drain into your growing balls.

You put your hand down your pants, groping your still growing manhood. You throw your head back as you pump its enormous length, pleasure seething through your whole being.

It doesn't take long before you shoot down your leg, your brain completely emptying out of your nuts.

A dumb smirk spreads across your face, no more worries in your life. Only thinking with your dick.

[another-lost-mc]

I have an idea what about Raphael eats one of Solomons dishes but Solomon did something to the food causing Raphael acting very strange like he blurts out stuff he normally wouldn't say like

Mc: *does something stupid and ends up falling down*

Raphael: *chuckles* you're such a cute idiot *immediately slaps his hand over his mouth*

everyone else in the room (including mc): *stares at him with concerns*

BUT it gets better or worse if mc alone with him like gets all touchy even if it leads to sex he doesn't act like himself this happens multiple times over the course of weeks making everyone confused while Raphael tries to understand why he's acting like until once he ate solomom food again he goes back to normal but solomom now has bandages and black eye

Oooh I like this! The implications this would have with Raphael already being in an established relationship are interesting to think about too. Going off in a slightly different direction with this one, but bear with me.

[RAPHAEL x gn!Reader, 1.5k words, nsfw. Content warnings: suggestive and sexual content.]

I could see Solomon’s cooking having unintended consequences. He’s too amused to care about trying to pinpoint what went wrong or how to fix it (so long as the side effects aren’t too severe).

Raphael eats the stew that Solomon made, and it tastes like all the other things the sorcerer has fed him (delicious), but it isn’t until later at RAD that the others start to suspect something might be wrong.

“You’re all invited to have lunch with Lord Diavolo tomorrow,” Barbatos said in the cafeteria. You were eating lunch with the angels today since the others were busy with student council business.

Luke nearly bounced in his chair with excitement. “Can we try that new brownie recipe too?”

Barbatos smiled at the young angel. “I’ve already secured the ingredients, and Simeon has agreed to bring you ahead of the others so we have time to make them.” He turned to you and added, “Of course, I’ll also brew that special blend of tea you enjoy so much.”

You loved his tea, but you missed Raphael’s frown when you beamed happily at the butler. “I’m looking forward to it, thank you.”

Raphael stabbed at something on his plate with his fork. “I don’t understand why,” he said between bites of his lunch, “his tea’s not that good.”

Everyone turned to him, startled and confused by the unexpected comment. Even Barbatos looked stunned for a moment, and a flicker of anger passed over his expression before he offered Raphael a tight-lipped smile that looked completely fake. “I shall do my best to meet your exceptionally high standards,” he said with a stiff bow before he walked away.

“Raph? Are you okay?” You scrutinized his expression, but he looked confused by your concern.

“Of course I am,” he said, because why wouldn’t he be okay? He continued eating like nothing happened, but he shuffled his chair just a bit closer to yours so your thighs touched under the table.

What everyone pieces together is that something is causing him to be a more honest, unfiltered version of himself. He’s more candid with his opinions and feelings and thoughts, especially when it comes to you.

Mammon plopped down into the seat next to yours, but you glanced at the doorway and back to him again. “Raphael should be here any moment,” you warned him, because the angel normally sat beside you at these group events and Mammon knew that.

But he scoffed and leaned back in the chair with a grin. “Yeah, well maybe he should’ve been here sooner then—“ Mammon started to say, but he yelped when his chair was suddenly pulled away from the table.

Raphael tipped the chair forward so Mammon slid off the seat onto the dining room floor with an oof. The angel tucked the chair next to yours and sat down himself, staring at the demon like he dared him to say about it.

You patted Raphael’s hand gently, and you weren’t sure whether to feel bad for Mammon or be shocked by Raphael’s behaviour. “Was that really necessary?” you asked him with an amused smile.

Raphael turned to you and the icy annoyance he showed Mammon moments ago thawed into warm affection. “He was in my seat,” he said as he took your hand in his and brought it to his mouth, tickling the backs of your fingers slightly when he hummed against your skin.

Without the censor tempering his thoughts and softening his tongue, Raphael’s language is more abrasive—crude, even. It feels almost like dirty talk, the way he weaves curses into his speech so easily now. You know it’s not a ruse or exaggeration, but simply a side of himself he normally hides from the world. You can pretend it doesn’t turn you on, but it’s difficult to keep that up for long when it affects him just as much.

It was half-time during Beel's Fangol game, and most of your friends dispersed from the stands to get more drinks and snacks. You noticed Raphael was fidgeting a lot during the game, playing with his arm sleeves and grumbling under his breath. You were here to support Beel moreso than your personal enjoyment of the game, and you assumed it was the same for him too.

You figured some fresh air away from the crowd would help his spirits, so you didn't protest when he grabbed your hand and led you down the steps to ground level. Confusion set in when he kept walking past the concession stands towards RAD, which was deserted this time of night.

"What's wrong?" you asked when you tried to keep up with his long strides. "The game's not over yet."

He glanced at you over his shoulder. "I know," he said, gaze flicking down somewhere around your chest level before he looked ahead again. "But I don't think I can wait anymore."

He led you around the corner of the courtyard and you bumped into him when he stopped walking suddenly. "Can't wait for what?" you asked, but instead of answering, he backed you up against the stone building and slid his arms around your waist.

"You're so lovely in this shirt," he said thickly as his hands slid up under the shirt hem and tickled your sides. "And I don't want to wait until the after-party to fuck you in it." He leaned forward and his nose grazed your jaw, and he tilted your head back gently before he placed biting kisses up along the delicate column of your throat

You grasped his shirt and tried to to think through the heat shooting through your belly every time his lips sucked another little mark into your skin. What he said didn't make sense; how could a shirt have this effect on him?

But then you remembered an off-handed comment he made shortly after you bought it a few months ago. He stared at you for a moment before turning away, mumbling something about, "that's a good colour on you." Since his compliments were sometimes rare and subdued, it still made you feel giddy with praise. Was this what he really feels every time he sees you wearing something he likes?

One of his hands groped the curve of your ass as he arched your body against his, and the other slipped down the front of your pants. He quickly derailed your thoughts about why this was happening. Instead, you succumbed to his tantalizing kisses against your skin, the filthy promises he whispered in your ear, and his deft fingers stroking the arousal between your legs.

Eventually the effects of Solomon's food fade away, and Raphael's temperament slowly returns to something like before, but not quite the same either. He's not as blunt with his criticisms and displeasure about things, and he's not as forthcoming in conversations he really wants no part of.

However, he's still more open than he used to be, more honest about things that matter to him. Mostly, he's more honest with you than anyone else, no matter the circumstances.

He braced himself on the carpet beside your head, and his other hand was curled around your hip. You rested your forehead on your arm to keep the carpet from rubbing unpleasantly against your skin every time a rough snap of his hips jerked you forward.

You're still not sure how you ended up on all fours on Raphael's bedroom floor, but it hardly mattered now. All you could think of was the coil deep inside that burned with need, the one that tightened with each greedy pump of his cock inside you, and the way he seemed to fill you so perfectly like no one else could.

Words escaped you as you moaned and whimpered and keened against your arm. You could hear his uttered curses behind you over the soft, wet sounds your bodies made.

"Fuck, you feel so good around my cock," he panted erratically, a sign he was close to coming undone.

The hand pulling your hip to meet his thrusts fell away. He fisted the hem of your shirt instead, and you felt his nails scratch lightly against your back. "You wore this shirt on purpose, didn't you?"

Your face burned at how easily he saw through your ploy. Perhaps you had new motivations to wear things in that particular colour he liked so much.

"M-maybe," you admitted breathlessly. You liked wearing clothes that reminded you of the evening he fucked you against the rough stone wall of RAD, while the cheers from the Fangol pitch drowned out the sinful noises you both made.

He smacked your ass—not hard, but enough to make you yelp in surprise. You moaned when he leaned forward and pressed against your back so he could reach your arousal between your legs, and he stroked you quickly in time with the sloppy rhythm of his hips.

The tingling sensation and his hand spreading your wetness to drive you over the edge was too much. You buried your cry in your arm, and he grew still behind you as hot warmth seeped inside you and trickled down your thighs.

He maneuvered you both onto the floor, his arm wrapped around you with his cock still buried deep inside. He panted against your temple and kissed you. "I love you," he murmured into your ear.

There were still things he didn't say often, feelings he had trouble expressing without some sorcerer's concoction loosening his tongue, but you basked in his quiet honesty and loving touches, because no matter what he did or didn't say, you still knew him better than anyone else.

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