#for the most part though it's just the Horrors

[syoddeye]

you scurry into the bookshop from the cold, the door slamming shut behind you with the breeze.

the warmth inside feels like a slap after the bitter chill, and your glasses immediately fog over, clouding your vision in a steamy blur. you pause, fumbling with your mittens, distracted by your own breath bouncing back at you behind your scarf, making it worse. you step forward without thinking.

and immediately regret it. your shoulder slams into something hard and solid, like a wall. except the wall shifts, and a deep voice hisses down at you.

“fuckin’—we in a rush? watch where you���re—”

“sorry!” you blurt out, flinching back.

the voice halts. just stops, snipped mid-sentence. you’re scrabbling to pull your mittens off now, fingers clumsy and frantic. the fog persists, blinding, smothering, your breath quickening and making the condensation worse.

“shit, shit, sorry—”

then a hand settles on your shoulder.

a low, rasping hehehe rattles from above. “can’t see a thing, can ya? ‘old still.”

you freeze, mittens half-off, mouth hanging open in protest as something dark moves toward your face.

“uh, what are you—oh, you don’t have to…”

a thumb drags black fabric gently over one of the lenses. the fog clears in a small oval, revealing part of the stranger’s face, his deep brown eyes. you try to crane your neck for a better look, but the hand on your shoulder shifts to your chin, steadying it.

“keep still.”

your mouth shuts and your pulse stutters. his thumb and forefinger pinch just firmly enough to hold your head in place. he clears the second lens, and when he withdraws the fabric, you finally see him.

he wears a thick, cloth mask, the loops disappearing beneath the edges of a matching hat. though most of his face is hidden, you notice the faint scar cutting across the end of one blond eyebrow, a few faded freckles dusting his forehead. the scarf around his neck hangs loose, one end caught in his hand, which he drops once he seems satisfied with his work.

“there,” he says, leaning back a fraction to examine you. his eyes crinkle at the edges, amused. he must be smiling. “look at those eyes.”

you blink up at him, and you’re hyper-aware of your own breathing. careful not to exhale too hard, in case you fog everything up again.

“thanks.”

his thumb, still resting lightly on your chin, moves in a small, absent circle. he hums, low in his throat, and then lets go.

“of course, sweet’eart.”

for a second, you just stand there. five seconds, maybe. you’re the one who breaks the silence by awkwardly stepping away.

“okay, yep, thanks again.” you say, words knocking into each other like you knocked into him.

you retreat further into the shop, yanking at your mittens until they’re off and stuffed into your pockets. your scarf is next, practically ripped from your neck, the heat of your own embarrassment prickling at your skin all over.

what just happened? should you have said something? made a point of how weird that was? because it was weird. right?

you circle the horror section three times before your heart rate evens out, but even then, you’re not really seeing the shelves. the titles run together, and your mind drifts back to him—his hand on your chin, the soft way he said sweetheart.

your glasses are clear, but you’re stuck in a haze.

simon was just supposed to kill time, having arrived arrived early to meet price. except now he’s going to be late, for the first time in ages, to a meeting with his captain.

it’s difficult to hide in a shop where he’s taller than most of the shelves, but he’s careful. doesn’t take much of an effort anyway, she’s preoccupied by the shelves of the horror section. not his preference, but he likes the twist. likes the view, too. the profile of her face, her hair, the way her jeans fit snugly over her arse.

smitten. that’s the word, he thinks. charmed, maybe. pretty, sweet four-eyes all dressed up in knitwear. she probably made them herself. seems the type. he wonders, absurdly, if she’d make him something. a sweater, maybe. something that actually fits his shoulders.

then she suddenly moved, pulling out her phone, and he buries his face in the cookbook he’s been pretending to read. thai recipes, apparently. he flips a page, wondering if she likes thai food. he could try making it.

his phone buzzes and for a second, one irrational second, he thinks it’s her. like she’s sent a message telepathically from across the shop. but no. it’s price, blunt as ever, asking where the fuck he is.

he looks up again, and she’s gone. just like that. his stomach drops, and he straightens instinctively, scanning the aisles. he can’t help it, he turns—

“so…you like thai food?”

he looks down and finds her at the next shelf over, smiling shyly. something about it. it slips through his ribs and gets comfortable.

[sailorsol]

So most of this is true. We are very good at making things boil to create steam to make the spinny thing give us power. But. We are also very good at making things EXPLODE to make the spinny thing give us power.

This was touched on briefly in regards to internal combustion engines, but this is true for any gas turbine engine. If you cram a bunch of oxygen into a small space and add some fuel and then EXPLODE it, you get a lot of hot air pushing out of that area really quickly, which will make your turbine spin as well. This is a gas turbine, most commonly seen in jet engines, but there are also industrial gas engines (as seen at natural gas power plants, for example) that are basically GIANT jet engines that don't fly.

Part of the reason natural gas is more efficient for energy generation is because you don't have to heat the water to make the steam to turn the turbine to get the power, you just explode the gas. You also get a lot fewer problems with the turbine when steam isn't involved, because steam has a habit of causing pitting on the turbine blades if it isn't dry enough. (Yeah, dry steam is a thing. Try not to think about it too hard else you'll break your brain.) This means having to replace the turbine a lot more often--which is fine if your cooling loop is separate from your primary heating loop, like in most types of nuclear reactors, but if you've got a boiling water reactor, your turbine is exposed to irradiated steam so maintenance becomes a lot harder.

All that being said--we have been using water and wind to generate power for thousands of years. Not electricity, but power, which is really what we're talking about when we talk about making the spinny thing go. Because the spinny thing is creating mechanical power, which is then used to make an electric engine go WEEEEEEEE to give us electric power. But mechanical power can be used directly for things like pumping water or grinding grain or operating bellows to fuel really huge blast furnaces for smelting iron.

Humans have been really good at finding ways to make mechanical power and reduce the amount of energy we are personally required to put into getting that mechanical power. Because humans are relatively weak and generally lazy in the sense that we're always looking for an easier way to do something difficult.

Steam power, in the grand scheme of things, is relatively new, and frankly it took a lot of trial and error (and explosions) before it could be used reliably and efficiently, which is also partly why we don't see things like steam powered cars or nuclear powered jet engines (though they tried, for both). It just isn't efficient or practical. And inherently one of the ways to make steam power more efficient is to pressurize all that lovely boiling water (whatever the heat source), which is where the explosions come in. Think about a bottle of soda exploding, but now imagine that with a giant metal tank and boiling water, and you have the horror of late 19th century steam power. The number of trains and ships that exploded was not inconsequential. There was an entire insurance company created just to deal with steam boilers because no one else wanted to touch them. The American Society of Mechanical Engineers was basically created because a bunch of engineers got together and said "right, there has to be some way to do this without blowing people up" and the pressure vessel regulations came into existence. But that was in 1880, and if you look at the development of steam powered energy, not much has changed except the source of the heat.

(Yes, Vitruvius created a bladeless radial steam engine in ~30 BCE, but you'll note that it never really took off, mostly because it lacked a good way to do anything with all the spinning, like turning a gear shaft.)

So yes. Nuclear power is really no different from coal power, they just use different sources to make sources hot. And steam power is great, but at the end of the day, we have come up with lots of better ways to create power. Steam is just the best way we've found so far to create a lot of power all at once. And with nuclear power in particular, we can get a lot of electrical power out of the system with very little energy being put into it. One uranium fuel pellet that can fit in your hand is equivalent to 40 tons of coal, the size of a large dump truck.

So if you need lots of electrical power, steam is one of your best options. But if you're just looking for mechanical power, there are lots of better options.

nuclear power is impressive until you get up to why. "we use the most precisely engineered machinery ever created to split atoms to release energy" oh yeah how come? "boil water to turn a fan" get the fuck out

[myladysapphire]

A doe a Deer - A name i call myself

being the youngest archeron sister often meant that you were the forgotten one, no one ever saw you, until he did.

Azriel x Archeron!OC

Word count: 2,180

CW: mdi 18+, selective mutism, ableims?, death? self-hate, self-doubt, sad boy Azriel, angst, Daphne goes on a jounrey of self discovery in this one. not beta read!

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

Shock resounded across the field as they took in the state of the once war-torn field. The hight lords had all left the tent where the cauldron had been broken and then re-made, where a high lord had died and been reborn. They had thought that would be the most shocking thing that would have happened. That nothing could beat the very destruction of the very object that created the universe.

And yet as they left the tent, expecting the battle to be in full swing still, they ere left with the sight of Daphne Archeron. On her knees her hands outstretched and holding what seemed to be that of a thousand suns in the palm of her hand.

They heard the screams, the begs and the cries of Hyberns men. How the army that outmatched the combined power of seven courts, was eviscerated into nothing but dust.

And then the light changed from a golden blinding ray to a soft sliver glow. The power expanding to where their soldiers stood or flew, having stooped in shocked as their weapons pointed at nothing but piles of dust. As they all turned their eyes to her.

Fear claimed there faces, only to be meet with nothing but a soothing feeling. As their wounds were healed, and their dead reborn.

Their fear morphed into more shock, then into cries of joy, of celebration and victory.

Her name became a cheer, and the name “the saviour of Prythian” quickly found purchase in Daphne Archeron.

The sky had kept a golden hue to it, as if the sun refused to leave and the moon had simply made space in the sky for it. with the sheer strength of her power lingering even hours after, with no focus or thought, as made apparent by Daphne’s blank face.

The question of how she did it still lingered in the air, though she was cauldron made it seemed she had embodied the very might of the cauldron. Even when it had been broken, her power so strong inside her that even as the universe began to shatter, she could still harness the remnants of it.

And because of it, some had even called her a god.

Though if Daphne hadn’t dissociated completely, she would have scoffed at the word. She wasn’t a god, she was just a girl given powers beyond imaginable thought and magic she didn’t need and never wanted.

Hours later, after being coaxed from the battlefield and taken to her tent, she was still sat staring at her hands shocked and confused.

She only remembered parts of what happened, but not why. She had felt the hopelessness of her new family, the defeat she felt from falling soldiers and rage had built with in her, the grief from loosing her father. And as a result, she had become a unbreakable force, wiping out a large army by herself.

She remembered the looks on everyone’s faces. The shock. The horror.

Nesta and Elain had looked at her in disbelief, almost as if they had started fearing her, despite Nesta holding the decapitated head of the king of Hybern in her hand.

It scared her. Scared her that she was capable of doing something like that and what she even could do that and what else she could possibly do.

What if she hurt someone she loved?

But what scared he the most was the fact that’s she could still feel it bubbling inside her. Surely its should all be gone. Surely, she had used every last drop of her magic and she needed to rebuild it.

But as sun danced on her fingers I her pitch-black tent she feared she would be seen as a weapon, as something to fear. And she hated it.

Feyre had told her how proud she was of her, a smile on her lips as her the inner circle all gathered, following the meetings to discuss the war and a possible new treaty.

She had said nothing. And though that was nothing new.

She made no effort to communicate, not with her eyes or facial expression. Not with her hands. Nothing.

Azriel shadows hugged themselves around her skin, oddly drawn to her light.

They traced over her skin as if to offer comfort. But she didn’t even react to them, causing a frown to tug at Azriel’s lips.

She usually lit up when his shadows surrounded her. A smile always tugging at her lips, a happy glint in her eye.

But now there was nothing.

Nothing as the inner circle cheered and celebrated.

But Daphne simply sat and watched.

Nesta had vanished. Though no one seemed to be notice, expect Cassian of course. whose eyes darted around the tent searching for her.

Later that night, she still sat in the same spot as before, her eyes focused on her hands.

Everyone had left for bed, and only daphne and azriel remained.

“daphne” he spoke, moving to sit beside her.

She didn’t look up, her gaze fixated on her hands, drops of sunlight dancing around her fingers.

“daphne” he spoke again, his voice soft but concerned. “What is it?” he asked, the bond between them thrumming in his chest.

She had cut him off, the little connection they had from their bond, a bond neither of them had yet to acknowledge to the other but both knew they over knew of it.

His hand reached for hers, his eyes drawn to the drops of sunlight that his shadows seemed to play with.

A hot seeing pain pierced his skin as his already scarred and brunt flesh was met with the heat of the sun.

She startled back as he hissed in pain.

Her eyes widening in horror.

Standing up quickly, she ran from the rent. Her eyes swelling with sorrow and the bond filling with pleas of forgiveness.

Days passed and no one had seen Daphne. Not even Azriel’s shadows had found her.

And though she wasn’t the only Archeron sister to leave after the war, at least the inner circle knew where she was, where she lived and could find her when needed.

But Daphne? She was simply gone.

Her room in the townhouse was locked, a barrier in place that know one could breach. And yet Azriel knew she wasn’t in there.

He had tugged and tugged on the bond, but found no purchase, but at least it was there, and she was alive, that was enough, right?

It wasn’t for Daphne, not as she had returned to the sight of the war. The place she became a monster.

At least that was the name she had given herself.

She had ignored the praise, the songs that were sung in her honour. And named herself a monster. It was how she saw herself, because she was. She had heart Azriel without even thinking, had reduced thousands to nothing.

She ignored the good she had done, the healing and allowing solders to return home to their families.

Ignored the long feeling she felt every second of every day, the urge to respond to Azriel’s incessant tugs.

And had simple sat and started to think.

In the dust filled field, the remnants of swords, and arrows. Shields and helmets all left and abandoned; she had reflected on herself.

The burden she had been her how life, the illness that had nearly taken her. And how she was gifted with immortality and an ability to irradicate armies.

She had become everything she ever wanted, in truth.

Her whole life she had wished to be okay, to not be plagued with a constant illness. To not hear the tolls of death every winter season. To be able to speak with out fear or her body rebelling. To not be a burden, to be useful. And she had been. She had ended a war and saved the lives of the entire world. And yet, though she no longer felt as if she was a disappointment, she felt as if she was a monster.

She had abandoned her family, the people who had been nothing but proud, to wallow in self-pity, when she had gotten everything, she had ever wanted, or almost.

She had wanted to be loved and seen, and the whole of Prythian had seen her that day. Had started to worship her even.

Love though? She had received bounds of it from her sisters, even if it was veiled behind their poverty, and their struggles. They had showered her in it as she had them, even if not openly she had always felt it.

And now she felt it more so than ever, it was thrumming in her chest, pulling her to where the mountains meet the stars.

But she feared what she would do, she couldn’t control it, she had hurt him. She had hurt him.

The words played on repeat in her mind.

After everything he had told her, of his story, his youth. She had done the very thing; his half-brothers had done to him.

Though she had done it without malice, without thought. It was an accident, and Azriel didn’t hate her for it.

But she hated herself.

And hated that she couldn’t rely on his, on her family’s love, in order to love herself.

If there was one thing Daphen remembered about herself before her family was poor, was the desire to travel the world.

Her mother had long told her of her tales of traveling the continent, of even visiting fae courts. How she had danced with a fae prince who had won her hurt but had forced her to leave shortly after.

It was all she thought of when she was younger. Of what the world looked like, what it would show her, and the love she might find within it.

Of course, for a small child of four or five, this was very little. The world to her was an unimaginable thing. She had never seen the see or what the world outside their family’s estate looked like. And even when she grew up, she rarely saw outside of their small village.

She had still never seen the see, felt the brush of waves against her ankles, or the annoying caw of seagulls circling her as she feasted on her food.

She had never seen the courts her mother spoke of the cities of the mortal realm.

But now she decided she would. Even if she would spend a day doing each, she wanted to travel, to something for herself.

She felt as if her whole life, she had only ever acted to please. To do things that made her sister happy, whether it was find seeds for elain, sewing her sisters clothes, helping Feyre make her traps, or skin her kills. She had always helped, doing whatever they asked when she could, just to hear them say thank you. Just to feel less of a burden.

She had done it so much that she had started to burden them even more. Working herself to the core, getting sicker every year until it killed you, literally.

And though a part of her still whished to return, a part of her nagged at her that her family must be worried, and she so desperately didn’t wish for them to be, that she had to force herself to think of only herself.

And so, she found herself traveling to Gallia. The mortal kingdom her mother hailed from.

It was strange to her that she knew so much about her mother, when her sisters did not. That she only had happy memories of her and they only negative.

And yet she found herself not caring as she walked to the beaches along the shores of the continent.

She had travelled across the entirety of the mortal realms, seen cities and libraries and experienced human life for the first time, even though she was now fae.

But she had savoured the beach till last. Until she felt ready to go back to Velaris and to make it her home.

Peace settled upon her, as the see kissed at her ankles, and sand covered her feet.

She felt peace here, with the sun on her back. Her magic flared within her, and though she still feared it, the calm of the beach and soft sounds of waves crashing into rocks soothed the magic that bubbled with in her.

The sun had never stopped dancing around her fingers or lingering in the dark. The sun always seemed brighter wherever she went, and a warm always filled her chest.

It was comforting, though she dared not admit it. as the fear of what she could still do lingered with in her.

But for once she allowed herself not to think about the future, simply focused on the want to leave and find home.

So for the first time in a year, she found herself responding to the bond.

she just hoped to much hadn’t changed since she left.

to be added to taglist

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[sissybabycucksophia]

The Adult Baby Adoption Part 4

(This story is complete fiction and although i may desperately wish it isn’t, there is no fact or real world experience behind this story, and themes reflected in the story may be triggering, these themes are not my actual beliefs and are only part of a fantasy kink scenario. Also non of the images belong to me)

As the event ended and Daddy forced me out the church doors towards the car I watched as other ABDL’s were lead to their vehicles, though I looked around desperately looking to catch a glimpse of the poor girl in the same position as me. However to no avail, reaching the car door daddy removed my restraints only for me to then be hoisted up into the car and tightly secured in the seat restraints. “Please daddy is this really necessary….” I whimpered as he slammed the door shut.

“Of course they’re necessary! They’re there for your protection, a feeble little fragile girl like you~ now i understand that today has been exciting and overwhelming for you Jade! So I think you should have a nap on the drive home!” Daddy said to me much to my disgust and humiliation, before i could retort he had covered by eyes with a girly pink satin sleep mask and stuffed a large pacifier in my mouth. Sitting totally unable to make, in a beyond pathetic dress I could feel the ruffles up and down the front of the bodess sway with each turn and corner the car took. To afraid to spit out the paci I sat in silent contemplation of what had just happened to me. My chances of escaping to normality were disappearing faster than my diaper was filling with nervous peepees, but even knowing that I had now watched as my name was Legally changed and as I was condemned to a life of girly dress… to my self disgusted, my small penis was fighting against the even smaller chastity cage to get hard! Did I actually want this deep down? Was I gay? Or Trans? Or just a depraved freak turned on by humiliation and utter absolute domination?.

Eventually Daddy pulled up outside the huge building he… now we… lived in. Stopping the engine he climbed out and walked round, opening my door he begun to free me from the car restraints. Helping me out of the car he fixed the skirt of my dress while strangers walked by looking at the grown adult dressed in a child inspired communion dress. Glowing red with embarrassment daddy stood up handing the keys too the vallet and took my hand walking me inside. Despite my prayers to this god i didn’t believe in we were stopped by several of the staff to which daddy further humiliated and embarrassed me as he told them with pride how I was officially now Jade Ulysses Carmichael his daughter. Mortified and ashamed at how aroused it all made me i remained silent until we reached the elevator. Once in the elevator and moving I felt so tired I couldn’t stop myself from leaning by head against Daddy to which he said, “its ok Jade, dinner time then beddie byes for you little girl~” Daddy said gently stroking my wig. Shame washed over me knowing it couldn’t be much later than 5pm, I dreaded to think or even ask how early bedtime was going to be.

Reaching the penthouse Daddy unlocked the door and in we went. However instead of going straight to my pathetic pink bedroom he would reach into his satchel and pull out a certificate, telling me to hold it he insisted I smile for a picture, “there we go, day one in your scrap book!” Daddy said before then leading me to my bedroom and beginning to completely undress me. Once stood totally naked all except for my chastity cage, diapers and necklace, daddy would go to the drawers of my cabinet and pull out possibly the most pathetically juvenile looking night dress. Having seen this exact item on shelfs for actual children I looked on in horror as instead this looked to have been custom made to fit an adult, before I could think to protest Daddy had it over my head and begun guiding my arms into the sleeves of the thick fleecy nightdress. The gown had been altered to my exact high and was so long it skimped the floor at the bottom, around my wrists the elastic cinched tight and all down the front of my pathetically covered form were the images of disney princesses. Then taking me by the hand Daddy sat me at the makeup table where he proceeded to use two big pink scrunchies too split the wig on my head into 2 low pigtails on either side of my head. “Now Jade, give me your hands baby~” daddy said as from the drawers next to the makeup table he would produce a pink pair of satin mittens.

“Don’t you think this is a bit much Daddy!??” I whimpered simply to be met by daddy grabbing one wrist at a time and sliding my hands into the mittens each of which was then tied tightly in place by pink ribbon. Inside each mitten was a wealth of thick fleecy material making it almost impossible to grab anything with the mittens on, “Nonsense little girl! I don’t believe what that politician Nick said about all women is right…. But it weirdly applies well to you and me’s dynamic as Father too Rebellious Sissy Daughter. Remember Jade…. Your Body… MY Choice” Daddy said with an evil and manipulative grin as he then turned to the base of the bed picking up girly pink fluffy slipper boots which he crouched down, raising my nightdress and pushed onto my feet. “But daddy this nighty is humiliating and so are the mittens. Can I please just be a tomboy girl? I don’t wa…..” I was then rudely interrupted in my moans by a very large pacy being shoved in my mouth. “Baby girl~ you are most definitely not old enough or mature enough to know what you want~” Daddy replied leading me into the open plan living room dining area.

There sat the end of the table was a bright pink adult sized high chair, however on the arms of the chair appeared to be restraints. Despite my resistance I was hoisted up into the chair, a strap fastened around my waist to the back of the chair and pinned my wrists down too the arms. “Now you sit here little girl~ I’m going to grab your din dins” Daddy said pinching my cheek. Then leaving me helplessly sat there in my pathetically juvenile clothing and bound to the high chair, Daddy disappeared to the kitchen.

Returning 10 minutes later he would set down in front of me on the table of the highchair a plate of fish chips and mushy pees… 3 things i simply despised especially all at once. Removing the paci from my mouth I begun to protest, “stop this madness! You’ve read my file you know I hate these foods! Stop this insanity its not funny! This is hostage taking and torture you horrible man!!” I growled, ignoring me Daddy would place a princess covered bib around my neck. Then picking up a pink plastic princess adorned spoon he began to try to shovel it into my mouth. Keeping my lips tight shut I was disgusted as he then simply smooshed the contents of the spoon all over the lower half of my face!. The more I resisted the more he made me look like a messy child who kept missing their mouth. However as i finally decided to allow a spoonful of the disgusting mushy pees to violate my mouth, my heart would feel like it stopped as suddenly there was a loud knock at the front door. Nervously swallowing the disgusting mouthful I looked round at the front door from my highchair as Daddy got up and walked towards it. Who was it? It couldn’t possibly be that girl from the church that I’d told to ask for a playdate? Who was it.

“Ah Cynthia my sweet! Come in, I’m just finishing feeding time for little Jade then I’ll be good to commence with our usual affairs~” daddy said as he invited a beautiful 6ft french woman with long perfectly straight shiny black hair and thin rimmed big round black spectacles on into the house. She was stunning, plump perfectly shaped lips covered by matte blood red lipstick which matched her formfitting ankle length blood red rouched figure hugging dress, over that she wore a shiny black crop puffer jacket and wore black doc martin boots. Each finger nail tipped with long pointed blood red fake nails, the woman grabbed daddy’s face gently and planted a kiss on his lips before walking into the room and seductively walking toward my chair. Beneath my diapers i could feel my cage get tight as the sight of such a beautiful woman began to make me horny, well that and the embarrassment of being seen in my current state by such a beautiful woman. “Little Jade? Wait is that him? The one you told me about? I mean I knew you said he was slender and petite enough to be made into a girl but I was skeptical~” the woman said with a mix of seduction and shock as she pointed at me. Mortified I remained quiet as daddy walked over replying “She! She is just adorable no? I told you she has beautiful blue eyes did i not?” Daddy said as he used the bib to wipe away the food around my mouth.

Looking directly at me the woman spoke to me, “hello little Jade~ Im Cynthia Serdano, I’m your daddy’s frequent fuck buddy… then again judging by the look of you princess, you’ve never had one of those hmm? Consider me your Mommy then~” the woman teased as she pinched my cheek. The sheer degradation and humiliation made the tightness in my cage almost unbearable. “Thats enough now C, Jade is very close to her bedtime and its been a long busy day for her~” daddy replied as he loosened the wrist restraints and removed the table. Looking at her phone which she pulled from her jacket pocket the womans face appeared aroused, “bedtime? Its only 6:50pm? You mean your forcing this grown ass man you’ve caged, diapered and dressed as a girl to go to bed at 7pm? God the control and dominance your exerting over him is getting me…. Excited~” Cynthia cooed as she begun caressing his bicep.

“Then maybe you should come watch me put MY property to bed~” Daddy said as he scooped his arms under mine and lifted me out of the chair. Setting my feet on the floor he then took my hand dragging me to the bedroom. “Daddy please stop this is too embarrassing, please just let me stay up. Im a grown up!” I begged, however as i said that I felt Cynthia grope my thickly diapered ass. “That’s interesting Jade, I don’t know many grownups who need diapers… now be quiet its bed time!” Cynthia teased as daddy dragged me into the pink monstrosity of a bedroom.

Sitting me at the makeup table looking towards the bed, Daddy would remove the fluffy slipper boots and replace them with a pair of strange booties which had a strap along the sole of the foot. When tightening my feet were forced into a curled position pulling my toes towards my heels. “Daddy what are these for? I don’t think I can walk in these!” I pleaded as I watched him walk to the wardrobe full of all my future devices of embarrassment and begin searching for something as he retorted smugly “Thats the point Jade, those are Forced crawl booties. That way I know your not going anywhere fast while my back is turned!”

As I tried not to look at Cynthia who stood looking turned on and as though she could ravage Daddy at any minute, Daddy would pull out a monstrosity that made my heart sink, my penis strain in its cage and even made Cynthia giggle. Walking toward me daddy held on a hanger a Full body enveloping pink fleece sleepsack, closed mittened hands attached to the sleeves, a fleece bag with no opening along the bottom and a high cuff neck line with the zipper running down the front. I began to whimper “Please don’t daddy, please it’s embarrassing in front of Miss Cynthia. Please im not a baby I don’t need this please!!!”. At that daddy unzipped the sleepsack and handed it to Cynthia. “Nonsense Mommy Cynthia will think you look adorable in this” Daddy smiled to me as he then looked to Cynthia, “When I pick up my humiliated little sissy boy, your going to get his legs into the sleep sack and guide his arms into it. Make sure his pathetic little nightie sits right too will C!” Daddy said as he appeared to break character and refer to me as a sissy. Cynthia giggled as she followed his instructions, “as you say… Sir~ god your so hot right now you sissy humiliating, beta male controlling king!” Cynthia cooed as she moved closer.

Stunned I remained silent until hoisted into the air by daddy’s hands under my armpits I tried to wriggle and struggle as the sleepsack was humiliatingly wrapped around my body. As my already mittened hands were forced into mittened sleeves I quickly began to realise my hope of being able to grab the zipper too remove the monstrosity after they left was pretty slim. Once both arms were in the sleepsack I was sat back down on the stool. Crouching down before me Daddy would then grab the zip, dragging it up the sleepsack I could feel the degradation and humiliation climb with every inch the zip climbed until eventually it was fully zipped up. From a drawer beside me Daddy pulled a pink heart shaped timer lock which he slipped through 2 locking rings and the zipper, clicking it in place under my chin I unfortunately couldn’t see the time he put in the lock but given how this bedtime routine had been going I wasn’t expecting it to be quick. As I sat there with my masculinity disappearing quicker than my hopes of freedom I looked down at my now pink fleece sleepsack encased body and fell into an almost trance like state as I contemplated my patheticness. So entranced and overwhelmed as too my predicament I simply didn’t bat and eyelid as over my head was placed a pathetic looking pink bonnet which Cynthia took great pride in securing and giggled as she tied its long white ribbons into a bow under my chin.

However I quickly snapped back to reality as I saw and felt Daddy begin to attach and tightly secure a thick fluffy padded belt around my waist which had 2 smaller cuffs attached by short links at either side of my waist. “Hey! Wait a minute! Whats this for! Haven’t you debased and degraded me enough!??” I growled forgetting that no matter how masculine I might think I am I’m in no position to fight or argue. “C help me out here will you babe! Grab that arm and secure the cuff around this pathetic faggots wrist will you!” Daddy grunted as despite my resistance and lashing out the 2 overpowered me and before i knew it my arms were restrained by my sides unable to move my wrists more than 6 inches from my waist. Growling and shaking in anger while violently trying to get my arms free I roared “get this shit off of my to perverted freak!! Fuck your contract from the agency!! There isn’t a court in the land that would force me to keep enduring this bullshit!!”

At that Ulysses crouched down clamping one hand onto my crotch and grabbing my cheeks squeezing my face together he looked me dead in the eyes with an anger that equalled or even surpassed my own. “Look faggot! Listen to me…. See this caged cock down here under all those layers!? It’s irrelevant! Your never going to be a man again!! Look at you!! You never were!! A real man would be in a position to stand up and punch me out right now for grabbing their groin!! Can you do that JADE!! NO because not only are you not a man but your MY play thing! I paid to get an abdl, Im your legal decision making guardian and if you don’t want me to book the procedure to chop off your caged clitty and sissy stones for tomorrow then you’ll realise I can be a good daddy to you like i have been and not hurting you or I can treat you like a piece of shit!!” Daddy growled as my eyes filled with tears. Hearing him say how a real man would stand up right now and punch him out made me feel weak as despite trying I could barely make a fist under my 2 layers of mittens let alone swing a punch thanks to the restraints. Letting go of my face he stood up and looked down on me, “god your so hot right now Ulysses~” Cynthia cooed as she begun to hang off his arm and stroke his cheek.

“NO please you can’t take them from me please dont do that im sorry ok, just please don’t book that appointment” I howled as tears poured down my cheeks and snot began to run out of my nose. There I was, the perfect vision of a baby girl, crying and struggling under all the layers. All that made worse by Cynthia laughing hysterically at me, the more she laughed the more I whaled like a helpless baby. “C can you go pull back to covers while I get Jade here finished and ready for bed, thanks to her little tantrum shes 10 minutes late too bed!” Daddy said to Cynthia as she appeared to compose her, nod and go to the large 4 posted bed and fold back the frilly pink heavy covers. Approaching me again, Daddy would bend down and kiss my forehead before gently placing a pacifier in my mouth, then strapping if in place with a locked strap. “Ssshhh I know Jade, your outburst was because your tired~ daddy knows, lets get you to go beddy byes~” he said softly as he scooped me up in his arms in a princess carry. Feeling myself carried like a princess and knowing I was powerless too break free or stand up to Ulysses made my caged so tight the pain and desperation to orgasm were nigh unbearable.

Approaching the bed, daddy lay me down in the middle of the double bed which was a mass of pink frilly heavy satin. With an evil grin Cynthia looked me dead in the eyes as she flung the thick and heavy quilt over my already fleece sleepsack encased body, then walk over and pulled it right up to just beneath my chin. Looking at the bedside table Cynthia picked up the baby monitor, which only humiliated me to know that they’d hear my every move, and held it in front of my face. With daddy behind her he couldn’t see what she was doing with the monitor but as she spoke to me she pointed too a switch on the side of the monitor, “here you see princess~ daddy and I will hear every little peep, movement and impassion moan you make~” she teased as she flipped the switch from the position that said “one way coms” too “two way coms” before placing it on the pillow right next to my ear. “Awww isn’t that sweet of Cynthia to reassure you like that Jade.~ are you gonna say night night~” daddy hummed as he begun to walk out of the room.

Reluctantly from behind the paci gag I sniffled “Nin night” as Cynthia laughed and followed daddy out, switching out the lights I realised there were no windows in my room so despite there still being daylight outside at 7:10pm my room was in darkness accept for the plug in baby nightlight by the door, a door which seconds after daddys exit I heard quite clearly being locked. For a moment I simply lay completely still letting the tears dry into my cheeks in a state of shock, no wonder Cynthia found me funny to look at like this… any normal human would. Acutely aware of my almost inescapable predicament I lay there staring at the ceiling which Daddy had gone to the effort of plastering with self affirming diaper girl mantras like “I am Daddy’s girl” and “Daddy knows best” or “I Need Daddy’s Protection”. Reading each one made me sick to my stomach. However it wouldn’t be long before my attention was ripped from the ceiling mantras as loudly and with unbelievable clarity through the baby monitor came the audio from Daddy’s bedroom. Eyes widening in shock I realised Cynthia had more humiliation planned for me… as if that were possible!

For the next, what seemed like 12 hours but was in fact 2 I was forced to lie there and listen as Daddy and Cynthia had very loud, very passionate and very erotic sex. Over the 2 hours I heard cynthia embolden Daddy’s ego with seductively toned comments like “God the kind of man with the dominance and power to control and humiliate a sissy like that gets me so… fired up~” and “oh god yes!! Thats what a real mans cock feels like!!”. Every comment or thing Cynthia said was obviously designed to turn on Daddy and degrade me… and unfortunately she was succeeding. The passionate sex noises were bad enough but with each comment I would be smashed back into my reality of a caged cock leaking precum into my pink diapers while demoralisingly being forced to be abandon any masculinity.

[jamroses]

anderperry and their daughter pt 2! the uncles... (1/??)

since u fags loved part one, heres a part 2 🍓🍓

charlie dalton: would love teaching their daughter swear words, and to todd and neils horror she loves repeating them:

charlie: 'hey little girl, say fuck. c'mon, you can do it'

todd: *covering their daughters ears* 'STOP IT CHARLIE SHES ONLY 18 MONTHS OLD!'

daughter: "uck! uck!"

he also sneaks her chocolates past her bedtime:

charlie: "dont tell your daddies i gave you this okay?"

but then the next morning todd finds her with chocolate around the corners of his mouth and knows EXACTLY what happened

gerard pitts: loves picking her up and throwing her around, the daughter has the time of her life, though her parents are extremely worried about what could happen to her..

pitts: *swinging their daughter around in the air*

daughter: "WHEEEEEEEE HIGHER HIGHER!"

neil: "Lower! Lower! how about you put her down on the ground!!!!!!!!!!"

she also loves sitting on pittsies shoulders bc 'he's so high and i can see the whole world from up here' (her words not mine)

richard cameron: everyone thought he wouldnt be good with kids but anderperry trust cameron with their daughter most. she really loves him too! they have a lot of movie nights and cameron remembers EVERY. SINGLE. THING. she ever told him.

what she named the bug she found last month? duhh its ellie green

her favourite character from beauty and the beast? cogsworth ofc (idc if timelines dont match atp)

even though her favourite song changes every week, cameron still remembers what it is. he just adores this little girl and loves listening to her little stories (all the poets do btw)

a/n AAA HOPE U GUYS LIKED THIS <3

tags: @fromhusk , @scrunchybugzzz (lmk if u wanna be added)

PT 3 COMING SOON I HOPE <3

[chaifootsteps]

i should've mentioned it when we were talking about tuca and bertie and them doing things right, but the arc bertie goes through with her SA and reclaiming it thru taboo fantasies is very similar to what ive been through, right down to a therapist opening me up to this new side of sexuality, and while it all happened to me years prior to the arc happening in the show, it broke me out of my anti shipper mentality that gave me this sense of justice and rigid rightness in what i was doing.

just thought now would be a good time to bring it up too because of the allegations against you and how what happened to max is basically the same thing that's happened to me. it's such an uncomfortable feeling to know someone who brought you into this world sees you like that, and having a fictional character similar to that person to self insert with in writing has helped far more then feeling disgusted with myself ever did or has, because i can stop anytime i want, or just get to a point where i move on completely from being able to gain anything from this personally. (which im leaning towards for now,) it's like bertie's therapist said, "because this time, you're in control."

i just wish antis could at least be more open to the idea that maybe, just maybe, shaming victims for coping this way isn't helpful, and that the lack of nuance implies shaming these uncontrollable fantasies (because you can't control your thoughts and like bertie's therapist said, "brains are weird!", although ive also heard the fear and arousal part of your brain is closely related which explains so many kinks to me tbh,) is the only form of healing and getting better, which it never will be. this kind of thing, of re-exploring your trauma thru fiction like this, definitely doesn't help certain people and that needs to be respected, but for anyone it does, they shouldn't just be written off as "normalizing their abuse", because im aware enough to keep this to myself, and to other people like me.

come talk to me about me "romanticizing" horrible things in fiction when you remember vivs shows have millions of views, and THATS why her writing like a fanfic author is bad - not because she inherently is one at heart. a large audience of adults should engage with these heavy topics, (and deserve to have them be written well, even if the stans swear they don't because nuh uh it's Da Best cuz mama viv made it,) not literal children. regardless of this unfortunate demographic that's naturally been formed and then unnaturally encouraged by the creator to line her pockets with their parents money, i think people have a moral obligation to tell a well written story about dark taboo subjects when they have such a large scale of production and connections like this, with some gray area in between, because theres some pieces of media that aren't as big as vivs creations or as small as fanfic writers (compared to other indie creations like video games or shows,) either, like mouthwash, or that one horror game with a sibling incest ending. that's what i mean when i said you aren't gonna make anyone want to fuck a lizard, but that vivs story's spread sentiment that would give 1970s victim blaming, "well, what was she wearing?" arguments a run for their money in how gross they are. i don't think max is gonna make anyone want to fuck their own dad either.

i hope this all makes sense! i think this is the most vulnerable ive ever been in your ask box. thank you for being someone who makes me feel strong enough to talk about this.

No, no, it makes perfect sense! Thanks for sharing your story, Anon...that was an incredibly vulnerable thing to talk about, and it couldn't have been easy.

I don't know if it's due to social media or what, but people have gotten really, really terrible at the concept of "I do my thing that works for me over here, you do your thing that works for you over there, and even though we don't understand each other, we mind our business about it." Like you said, it becomes a different conversation the more widespread and professional your piece of media is -- the same way that feeding 1,000 people a day is different than cooking for yourself -- but when we're talking about you and me and Max and all the randos on AO3? An appropriately tagged piece of work that makes a sharp distinction between fiction and reality is harmless.

What isn't harmless is telling someone that their intensely personal coping method is wrong and shameful and that they're a dangerous, evil person because it makes you uncomfortable, and that they're either a bad survivor or lying about being one.

Here's the scene from Tuca & Bertie, because it's so well done and always relevant.

[fangdokja]

Woahhh. Your page is very pretty! Very aesthetically pleasing. That must have taken a lot of energy and effort.

Your writing is also soo mind stimulating. I'm flabbergasted 💕.

Your blog deserves to look as good as your writing—here's how to do it.

❤︎ Synopsis. Discover quick and easy tips to elevate your Tumblr blog and fic aesthetics with cohesive designs, color coding, and formatting tricks—consider this your warm-up for the ultimate design guide!

♡ Book. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Word Count. 2,237

♡ Series. The Aesthetic Tumblr Blog Starter Pack - Part 1

♡ Banner's Story. Trust no one. Not even yourself.

♡ A/N. Actually, it's "casual"; but it's full of tutorials on how to achieve stuff like the picture below (and more), especially when designing your blog and fics. I only called it casual because it's not really formally organized like my usual. I literally typed all of this while I'm in a meeting, haha. Anyways, I'll show you how I design my blog and content.

designs + gradient texts + banner images like this: I love my Daddy Dom husband.

OK! START!

Aw, thank you, Anon. That’s the first time someone has commented about the aesthetics on the page. Thank you :)) And, yeahhh. Bro. You have no idea. Of course, the page didn’t always look like that.

I’m also glad you love the writing. I’m curious about which one’s your favorite so far, or what stories you like haha. It’s always interesting to see what content attracts people in general, just plain curious. But no pressure in answering though, just have fun and relax here. That’s all I want for you, Readers. Yes, even if it’s the erotic horror books and stories haha.

Glad to have flabbergasted you. Haha. Now! Story time! Since, I always like to reply as comprehensive as possible to each of your efforts in commenting, reblogging, or even just reading. I’m extremely thankful for the support :))

Actually, even the older stories in “A Heart Devoured” looked different aesthetically before. I experimented with a lot of things in this blog, even aesthetically.

Force of habit, but when I really enjoy something, I get into it full force. I’m usually lazy and such haha. But I can write like 7+ hours without breaks at all. Yes, even food and sleep. Would not recommend though.

My husband takes care of me usually. When I get “hyper focused”, I really have this mental space to just keep writing (or working in general). As long as I have fun, I can really commit to it whatever time of day. Though… of course, when adrenaline runs out, I get really tired after. But nothing that can’t be fixed.

Anyways. Back to the topic at hand.

Tumblr blog recommendations. If you want to start your own blog in general.

Based on general research and experience (e.g. searching top fanfics or posts), it solidifies that Tumblr really is heavy on visual content. It’s why art and short form, easily consumed, content does better here.

Usually, fanfics not as much. Again. My mindset (and the truth) is that Tumblr is a very VISUAL platform.

So, I made the effort to create pictures, and see in both in the phone and laptop on how it looks. Phone especially, since most users scroll on mobile. Convenient and easily accessible.

Anyways. I guess “business mindset”? I don’t know. Weird.

But, I always look at statistics, especially before. It’s something measurable and to see if there's more I can improve on in general. Aside from the fact people LOVE smut, and anything sex in Tumblr.

Until now, unfortunately, I don't know what post will blow up or not. To be completely honest. It's like sometimes I think this work is shiz (e.g. the recent Yandere! Nerd story), and that's doing extremely well. I'm shocked. Other times, stories that I think would do well didn't do as well in terms of stats.

So, honestly, I don't know how the system works. I'm still learning the ropes as well. Technically I know how it goes about, but on what content actually does well?

Well, even word count sometimes doesn't come into play. The Yandere! Ex-boyfriend story (could also low key because Gojo-like personality? idk)? That had a higher word count than average posts, at 9k words! But that story also did extremely well. That wasn't even a smut fanfic! I've posted drabbles and even 1k-2k (or even average 4k-5k) words stories and works that performed less than that.

In Tumblr, it's recommended to post shorter fics. The average for smut fics for instance is around 5k words, for example.

BUT. For some ODD reason. When it comes to my audience, you supportive Readers, it's like longer fics work better for you all jsfklfsdk. So, that's that...

At first, it would be good to experiment with anything from aesthetics to word count, beyond just your writing style and story content. That's what I did. Anything under the sun that I enjoyed, and by looking at top posts and seeing what they did.

I got a lot of aesthetic ideas from JJK smut fics. I don't read those haha. But my current formatting for fics? Those ideas were adapted from JJK smut fics, like this:

Do you want to know what's ironic? I don't read smut fics at all, like even back then. I tried it before, but the brain dead stuff wasn't working for me. If I were to read sex, it can't be the main point. Like my current writing style, there has to be plot, usually yandere non-con in general helped. Of course, never encountered a yandere author (or can't find any yet) that actually willingly kills the Reader or MC. It's due to circumstances or stresses at most, but never voluntary. No actual danger. Oh well. Rambled.

See the similarities in aesthetics for my work? It's pretty obvious, yeah? haha

These are the following similarities:

ALWAYS have a Banner image. Think of this like the cover page of your book, it has to be eye-catching and tell Readers a vibe of what's in the story. The rest of the design and text has to be color-coded with the banner image to create synergy and cohesiveness in design. Symmetry or concepts related to it makes your work appear neat. Yes, you have to consider this to add to your professionalism when presenting to your Readers.

ALWAYS have a Hook Statement. This isn't necessarily your fic's title, it's a single statement usually, concise and meant to incite interest among readers. Think of it like the first 3-5 seconds of a TikTok video or short-form videos. These hooks are meant to capture your interest straight away or you'll just scroll past.

ALWAYS have a Synopsis or summary of your content. This is especially needed for longer works or prose that are in traditional narrative forms. Gives a taste to the readers, so they know what they're getting into or before they commit.

ALWAYS have a Word Count. So your readers know what they're getting into. People are busy and have their own lives, some want to have a quick read of serotonin. Others are in a relaxed state and can afford to read long works. So, don't worry, your works will attract its readers naturally. Just be consistent in writing and posting. That's key. Show up even if you don't want to, if you really are committed to your blog and work.

ALWAYS have Trigger Warnings. As a Dead Dove author, it's a requirement for me to do so, especially for explicit works. It's not a weakness, it's respect to your readers. Also, it will help drive away people who get turned off or triggered by certain works. Don't make your life harder later, just be transparent now, so people don't annoy or send hate mail to you.

ALWAYS have a Divider. This was made by me, like majority of my graphic design works for my fics. This divider is simply to make your work more neat as well, and to VISUALLY show what people are getting into. It can both advertise your name, and also warn Readers if they don't read trigger warnings. Yes, some people don't bother with the details.

ALWAYS have "Ads". Yes, I technically advertise my other works. How? Through connecting the Masterlist link, the book where the work they're reading is located in. If they want to read more, they can read more "here". It's the equivalent of how social media recommends content that you may like. Look at the examples below, it's like that.

In these ASKS, I also link my works when casually chatting. And it works. Why do I ramble and do these Asks? It's not just to create a sense of community, but also to "advertise" my works. Look at this example ask.

The person talked about Paternal Privilege and commented on it, saying how the yandere is like this character from Love and Deepspace. So people who are interested in the game or have not heard about my work yet (like if you're a new reader and haven't read my old works), they can check out my work. See? I linked my work at the end. Yes, in each masterlist, I even "advertise". Can be annoying to others, but it does help spread awareness about my works in general. Every piece of interaction is cherished and crucial in building your audience.

This is an example of how what usual formatting looks like:

I also put author notes just for fun. This one isn't really a recommendation, but just for personal preferences. To communicate with readers about my writing processes and other matters or updates. But, again, it's just a personal thing.

Now, how do I make this? CANVA. This is how part of my workspace in Canva looks like:

Actually, for me, it's still kind of messy. I haven't fixed a lot of things yet for my work since I'm also busy. But this is a general idea.

I've been using Canva for years, even before it blew up. When it first came out, I've been using it already, so I've gotten a lot of practice with it. Though, I do use Canvas Teams; because I also use Canva for work, so a lot of features are available already to help me.

While working on my blog, I never considered myself a graphic designer even before my blog. But, to be honest, I ate my words again. My husband already said before I am also a graphic designer, not just an artist, so.... yeah.... I generally improved a lot more as well because I'm constantly churning out new content. Basically even if I think it's shiz, I still continue, post, work. Same concept with fics. Just keep working, even if you don't see it, with each work (even if it's unfinished), you're improving.

If you notice, I have 3 different covers for "World Ablaze." I had to repeat the finished product 3 times, because the cover was shiz compared to the others. And these weren't drafts. But, hey, got to use the other covers for my posts.

For Tumblr posts in general, I just pick two sizes and upscale it for higher image quality:

Tumblr Banner

Wattpad Book Cover

For the divider, it's 1350 x 80 px.

For my usual formatting in Tumblr banners, I usually go for this formatting. I just use grids on a new project:

And then choose the 4 picture grids, before looking at Pinterest and getting pictures.

I ALWAYS add filters, and upscale the image:

And, for texts, I just pick, usually gothic texts since it's my personal fav. I just substitute already preset design texts usually, just changing the actual text.

Like if you see "Recently Used", I just press the given text and place my title. Then, I do edit the "text effects" usually; mostly Neon so it pops out the title, since people usually use phones with smaller texts.

Just with those steps, I'm able to make covers like this:

♡ Ink & Insight. The writer's essential to fictional writing, no matter what genre you may be in. Though, if you're a dark content writer, then you're in for a treat.

And, for color coding texts. I use these two sites:

The uiGradients is for getting easy color codes to paste the code in the Fiddle. Then just paste the generated HTML code in your Tumblr post.

For the Fiddle, paste the color codes in the corresponding HTML line 3 and 4, where it says "first" and "last".

I picked a red color from uiGradients:

Then I paste it here:

Then, place your text or whatever title you want here:

Press run, and copy the text generated.

Then go to your Tumblr Post:

Change the "Text Editor" into HTML:

Switch to the HTML tab, then copy your text from the Fiddle:

It's supposed to be long, and that's fine. It's because of the gradient code required in the text:

Final Output looks like this:

I love my Daddy Dom husband.

Hope that was an easy tutorial to follow, haha.

Anyways.

Hope this post helps people! Whether you're a writing blog or another kind of blog, I hope these tips will help you! :))

P.S. As I'm writing this, I just realized something. I'm actually in a lecture for Brand Positioning. And, it actually fits well with this topic, haha. Is it obvious I come from business? hahahahah. Also I just realized, I have a lot to say on this topic.... huh.

[whereserpentswalk]

There are creatures that work on keeping the code of the universe stable, making sure the laws of physics are in order and everything.

Sometimes you'll see their work if you get to a place that mortals weren't supposed to get to. It might be something simple, just a blank texture, maybe a few unfinished assets, or objects they didn't want to place somewhere accessible, and usually a sign saying something like "you weren't supposed to be here." And if you're lucky, you might see one of the reality coders at work.

The reality coders have true forms that aren't really anything comprehensible to mortals, but when they're doing work inside of the universe, they take on bodies that apply well to their work. Usually something the reality coders find easy to work exist inside of, which tends to mean a combination of amphibian anatomy and mechanical parts, though a few go with something else for more specific goals.

Reality coders tend to be rather relaxed around humanoids. They don't see us as a threat. A few are annoyed by humanoids and will shew us away, and a few others like us and tend to give us little gifts when someone finds them. Most of the time they're just apathetic to humanity, and how you treat them will be determined by how you treat them. The gods that created the universe made them to maintain the laws of physics and their underlaying nature, they didn't plan any beings within the universe to have interaction with them. It's unlikely a reality coder is going to give you superpowers or anything, but if they're in the right mood when you meet them, they'll be quite interesting to talk to.

Some people call the reality coders angels. They don't like being called angels. Most of them have seen the entities that humans know as angels, so they really don't want to be compared to creatures like that.

Reality coders might also show up when there's a serious glitch in reality. Glitches in the laws of physics are rare, but when they do occur, they're a serious problem. And rare is pretty common when it comes to something as large as the universe. If you're the victim of a glitch and reality coders show up, they'll likely be the only thing that can save you, but it's not common for them to be nice about it. Listen to their instructions if you fall victim to a glitch or get caught in a glitched area, because they give out the type of warnings where they won't be the ones to create the consequences.

As for those who actively try to utilize game breaking glitches in reality, they tend to take those people out. Though people who create exploits, or who use smaller scale or helpful glitches are a subject they're more mixed on. Some of the reality coders have a hatred for anyone breaking the rules, some have a strange sort of respect for them, and others have an appreciation or fascination with them. Still, there's a reason why they haven't let anyone get their hands on time travel or ftl yet, though someday they may change their mind on that.

Reality coders are very powerful, perhaps the most powerful type of non-deity entity there is. The main reason people don't know their power is that they don't have much of a reason to utilize it. But if a demon or eldritch horror tries to fuck with reality coders, reality coders can take them out as easily as they would a human. Whatever powers other entities might have, reality coders have admin privileges.

[houseof1000gods]

southern gothic, as a literary genre, portrays the darker sides of the south such as poverty, racism, religious tension, and alienation. how would you describe australian gothic in your own words? is there any media with that vibe? (sorry if this is a weird ask I’m just curious)

i only woke up like 30 mins ago so this wont be very insightful or anything but i consider aus gothic to be mainly the fear of the unknown in relation to the bush, like the thick bush u could easily get lost in or the outback where its just nothing for miles but dirt.

i grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other, there was one shop, one pub and one primary school, and my town was rivals with the neighbouring town because "they got more" than us (shops, customers, etc). as well as that, my primary schools and other schools in the neighbouring towns were a part of some interconnected community where we'd do events with each other like walkathons, school sports, etc, but one of the other town's school decided not to join and every year they have like 5 students (genuinely, even still to this day) so they now have resentment towards the other towns. so i also see a sense of community and rivalry when i think of aus gothic.

as well as that, i live where the gold rush took place so gold detecting, random mines in the bush that you have to avoid cause u could fall right through, remnants of settlements that were abandoned after the people there went home because they couldn't make a fortune looking for gold like they thought they could also comes into play.

mainly for me though, its all about the bush. i grew up on a road where one side was about 5 houses and the other side of the road was all bush. when i was growing up i honestly didn't give a fuck about the bush cause to me it was just where i lived, but in recent years i've really come to appreciate the beauty of it, especially since my nana still lives there on the same street i grew up on so i can still spend some time there.

as for aus gothic media/literature, i'm a massive fan of horror so i'd 100% have to say wolf creek. i loooove wolf creek. my other (obvious) choice is picnic at hanging rock, that story really plays into the fear of the unknown. i studied that in year 12 so i know too much about it lol. AND OF COURSE LAKE MUNGO. i almost forgot about lake mungo, i absolutely fucking love lake mungo.

if anyone has any other recs for good aus gothic media send them thru, i do read a bit but unfortunately nothing to do with aus gothic lol

edit: dogs are also a part of aus gothic for me! sounds completely unrelated but most people i know who live out bush have dogs, i grew up with multiple dogs, from kelpies to bulldogs to staffies so i've always loved dogs and associated them with my time spent growing up out bush.

[ossified-hypothesis]

Well if pathetic guys with scars are your thing, you should consider listening to WOE.BEGONE! Featuring our unfortunate protagonist Mike Walters who starts off investigating a mysterious and violent ARG and ends up embroiled in mysterious and violent time travel shenanigans. Parts of it are kinda horrifying, parts of it are kinda ridiculous, parts of it are about exploring personhood and the nature of power, parts of it are about cowboys. Idk how to explain that last one but if you listen to enough episodes you’ll get what I mean. Anyway Mike Walters gets hurt a lot and is kind of the Worst and I love him and you should listen to the show. Also the soundtrack is very good

Other podcasts with varying degrees of pathetic guys and/or scarred individuals:

Last Dance - I can’t actually remember if Jericho Raeke is canonically described as having scars but he absolutely does in my heart. Last Dance is a dark fantasy horror about and indentured battlefield scavenger called Jericho who stumbles his way into a mysterious power and a bunch of secrets in the midst of an apocalyptic war.

Spire - this is one of my all time favourite podcasts and I love it a normal amount. I also don’t even know how to begin explaining it without spoilers (the twists in the plot are so good but unfortunately they make it hard to describe lol). Uhhh basically there’s this weird tower city with different levels and weird rules people need to follow to “maintain the timeline” and one day Malachi (worlds most pathetic wet cat guy) and Cosima (disaster bisexual) end up swapping bodies and have to work together to uncover the mysterious stuff going on

The Silt Verses - I never know how to adequately describe this podcast except that it is extremely very very good and has the Characters of All Time™️. Carpenter tsv permanently lives in my brain rent free I love her a normal amount. Just to warn you the show is a dark fantasy horror and has a bunch of body horror and religious horror and the horrors of capitalism and there are some truly toe curling noises. It is mostly delivered to you in these hauntingly beautiful monologues though so

The Grotto - the grotto is a horror podcast about caving and grief and disaster bisexuals and weird cave necromancy. Matt is a mess and kind of the Worst but I still love him (even after what he did to my boy David 😠)

Jar of rebuke - this is a podcast following the recordings of Dr Jared Hel, a crytozoologist with no memory of his past beyond 2 years ago and a mysterious ability to come back from the dead (albeit with a few extra scars), as he works for a shady government organisation. It explores identity, neurodivergence, and making community. Also I just really want to give Jared a hug :(

Other podcasts that I love that I hope you might like but that I don’t have the energy to describe rn:

Hi Nay

Camlann

Eeler’s Choice

Hymns for the Road

Mabel

Partial Veil

Woodbine

ars Paradoxica

Wolf 359

Soul Operator

The Dead Letter Office of Somewhere, Ohio

Camp Here & There

Story podcast recommendations?? Podcast recommendations for me??? Please

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

Dionysos Loves His Mom(s), a very long essay

Going to just preface this by saying that I may/may not have gone a bit overboard, but I hope everyone enjoys reading my rambles on how amazing it is that we still have this message even through to day, how important this is for our understanding of Dionysos, and also just a little bit of (what I hope will come across as) Semele appreciation :) Also, I did write this during finals week, so if it seems rambly, please bear with me ;-;

And for clarification, I'll be referring to Semele with capitalized pronouns because even though She was human, mythologically, while carrying Dionysos, She was also deified by Him after He brought Her up from the Underworld.

The first interesting thing is that we get our description of Dionysos, as well as the love he shows for His Mother, in Greek mythology. While myths are usually pretty good resources for understanding the Gods, they are also usually written by the people who are in power at the time - which would be specifically older men who were not slaves. Because of this, a lot of myths tend to trend towards the "male" perspective of the Athenians. Also because of this, women are frequently represented in a very negative light, or at least as being relatively unimportant.

There are no Gods who have quite a relationship with Their Mothers like Dionysos has of His. Some of the Gods technically have no mother, like Aphrodite and Athena, and others just... don't seem to have much of a relationship at all. And this isn't necessarily to say that the Gods that we worship don't love Their Mothers, but more that the popular attitude of Greek society was simply to push women off to the side, and let the men take the glory.

And then, strangely, we have Dionysos, He Who Takes No Shit When It Comes to Women, as well as Him Who Has Two Moms. He's already something of an anti-Athena in Greek mythology, for while She was born of Zeus's head, and Metis was a sort of mother-base, Dionysos was born of two mothers, and from Zeus, in a way that echoes an intimate, "maternal" sort of birth, instead of the detached birth of Athena. And we know full well that Dionysos did not forget about either of His first two mothers. Persephone and Him famously get along well enough that they shared a rite in the form of the Eleusinian Mysteries, and it is to Persephone that initiates go, telling Her that the Bakkhic One Himself has freed us!

And we haven't even touched on Semele! It's one thing to have a divine Mother to welcome us to the afterlife. It's another thing to have a once-human-become-Goddess Mother in the form of Semele-Thyone. And Dionysos loves Her as well, very much so as well! Even though He never met Her as a child, He still very clearly has a lot of love for Her. At the start of the Bacchae, when Dionysos first arrives in Thebes, you will notice that one of the very first things He mentions in His monologue is that His mother is being disrespected by King Pentheus, and that this disrespect is part of the reason why He has driven the women of the city mad, as well as the sisters of Semele, who also were disrespecting Her.

This loyalty is only further emphasized by the fact that even though Semele is dead at the time of the Bacchae (and obviously after it as well, as the myth of Dionysos traveling to the underworld is an entirely separate story). And yet we must once again emphasize that this was written in a time where mothers were so often thrown under the bus (or horse-drawn chariot), and all of these myths were notably written by men, as far as we know. It seems that there is an inherent thread which ties Dionysos to the world of women, or at least has Him incredibly sympathetic to it, and one which could not be broken with all of the hyper-patriarchal nonsense that was woven deep into the cultural fabric of ancient Greece, especially Athens.

And to finish this fun little rant off, I want to offer two significantly longer ideas than the initial thing that I wrote! One for reflection on how we relate to Dionysos (and how He relates to us), and another as a reflection on Semele-Thyone and how She relates to us, and how we should relate to Her.

To start, this sympathy that Dionysos shows with women does, in some ways, hits culturally closer to a sisterhood than to the way that a man would have been encouraged to act towards women in ancient Greece. Dionysos as God understands His band of madwomen's own self-worth, and does not question their autonomy. Instead, he seems to encourage it, especially with all of the sassing he gives Pentheus while being grilled by him. This is such a good thing for all of us. Not only is Dionysos a friend of humanity, but He is specifically a friend for the marginalized. Whoever finds themselves marginalized in society will be His "favorites", so to speak, because that is where He truly finds His followers. It's almost as if He naturally finds where there is a power imbalance, and jumps on the other side to even things out, even if it is a little bit. I also think that this same "purposeful marginalization" is something which adds further theological credence to Dionysos being also validly a trans woman and nonbinary, as He does not sit within a patriarchal "Him"-ness, but rather within a "Him"-ness that refers to a more equal world.

Moving on to Semele-Thyone, we have a wonderful ally in a divine woman, sympathetic to humans, who knows full well not only the sufferings of humanity, and the pain in disrespect, but also the importance of kindness and respect towards others. In Greek mythological and religious canon, Semele-Thyone became the Goddess of the Bacchic revel, which, if you really think about it, isn't just about the Bacchic revel (it's never "just about the Bacchic revels"). This also tells us that Thyone, like Her Son, is also a God of the marginalized. Like Dionysos, She oversees the safety and wellbeing of the community which Her Son has founded. In some way, Thyone has become a Mom to all of us, through Her assistance with the divine inspiration that strikes frenzied devotees. It's a caring thing, too!

Anyways, the long and short of this is - Dionysos loves His Mom, Semele-Thyone is an incredibly underrated Goddess, and Mother's Day was yesterday. So hug your mom if you've got a good relationship with her, and if not, we can all borrow Dionysos' Mom :)

[todayisafridaynight]

what makes minedai even sadder is that we never rlly see daigo try to build a bond with anyone else like he did with mine it rlly shows how badly it effected him like yeah he reached out to shinada in y5 but that’s rlly it and he probably would wanna leave him alone after that and not involve him in any yakuza stuff so i don’t think they would’ve hung out or anything like that afterwards. All he rlly had were saejima and majima but they were more like babysitters than anything, wish we saw more of their dynamic tho like we did with majima and daigo in dead souls since that was fun and we were lowkey robbed but in canon he’s just as lonely as he was before majimas promise to kiryu. And mine is the only person he really had a meaningful relationship with romantic or not they were still really close and we don’t see that again with daigo ever (from what i recall after y3) ok sorry for rambling LMFAO

even with shinada, he reached out to him more so out of 'duty' and trying to make up for the misfortune that befell him because of yakuza than wanting to rekindle any kind of friendship they might have had in high school (though it sounds more like they were just acquaintances if shinada needing a second to remember who daigo was is anything), so yah i doubt they really had any kind of bond afterwards

dead souls really was the only time after Y3 where we got to see daigo be more sociable with someone, but its as you say majima and saejima are more like retainers than close friends

[definitelynotshouting]

Can I ask, since you mentioned agreeing 'even if under duress' - how did the Watchers convince Player Grian to join them in hunger au?

So take this with the specific grain of salt that ive never watched Evo directly (but have friends who have ((thank you wren)), so i know tidbits via osmosis from them), but my thought has always been that the riddles the Watchers gave the Evo Players were all tests used to measure cleverness and intelligence-- the whole point of them attempting to copy the mind of a Player into a Watcher larva in the first place was to try and avoid the insanely high infant mortality rate their typical juveniles go through, bc they dont understand their own limits enough to even know they have them yet. So they needed a Player they knew they could instruct and who would listen to them, and, well. Grian, for all he was rebellious and outright defiant of the Watchers, still solved their puzzles and only had to be punished once before he stopped trying to mess with them

What ive always pictured is after the dragon fight the two main elders of the Watcher colony finally revealed themselves to Grian properly-- i have this crystal clear image of the two of them hovering above and next to the central end island, looming over Grian, and like, these guys are big. HUGE. A good 5x bigger than the ender dragon itself, at LEAST. It would be hard not to feel insanely intimidated by that, honestly, especially when there are two of them side by side, blocking your entire view of the End from that direction.

Anyway picture that with the context of these two giant floating winged worms youve never seen before, who have demonstrated their powerful ability to manipulate code in a way you cant.... telling you that they have chosen you to become one of them. Thats an immense amount of pressure, both from flattery and fear, especially considering theyve punished you before for defying them. I like to think even then, Grian balked a bit, and while i dont have exact dialogue beats here, i know the Watchers continued putting that pressure on him (likely while leveraging his friendships too-- like ive always said, if Grian hadnt been chosen, BigB wouldve been, and i can absolutely see the Watchers offering to take him in Grian's stead) until he finally caved and accepted their "offer" of joining them.

Unfortunately, he didnt find out exactly what that entailed until it was far too late.

[pyomatic]

*twirls hair around fingers* so there's this demon bear on the show about doomed 19th century sailors

[littleshopofhorrors-confessions]

Too afraid to admit this in public but dentorin is overrated and tbh, Arthur doesn’t really add much in general.

He’s just a joke. Literally. Why is there so much fuss over him? The only reason people like him is because he’s associated with Orin.

---

[calico-kiwi]

sometimes dreams are insightful. like the time i had a dream where i fell asleep on the shoulder of my former best friend and realized it was because i missed hugging her.

sometimes they’re stupid though and mean absolutely nothing. like the one i just had about a weird marionette doll and her frankenstein like husband having to flee their adams family style house to some random italian countryside to escape the police while trying to figure out how to be parents to their newborn child