#in which I craft more stupidity

[pinyatapix]

how i imagine Minecraft Alex's personality to be like vs how i imagine Minecraft Steve's personality. duality of minecraft

[bacchuschucklefuck]

caps from comic Im doing

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

Feel like shit so I'm going to sit in the park in the sun and finally learn to crochet if it fucking kills me

[oh-meow-swirls]

it's kind of weird to me that they didn't bother releasing sushi and tempura internationally at all but at the same time i'm kinda glad they didn't cuz like. yo-kai watch was financially failing in the west by the time 3 released. i feel like if they had released sushi and tempura the franchise would've completely tanked before we got sukiyaki which would've sucked. honestly if anything i feel like it's more surprising that we got all three versions of 2 instead of them just releasing psychic specters but tbf i think yo-kai watch was doing well in the west when 2 released. 2 is just inexplicably what killed the franchise despite being a masterpiece-

[bidoofenergy]

nah coz why are you insulting visible mending for the part that's the whole point. it's going to be colorful and obnoxious because that's the whole point. traditional rules about mending demand color matching and tiny stitches and as little visibility as possible and im glad you weren't taught mending by your latina grandma who learned how to mend in catholic school but you can't turn around and make fun of visible mending for the part of it that's fun. if you want your mending to be unobtrusive thaTS JUST NORMAL ASS MENDING

[uncuteartist]

I am being very good by staying home and cleaning today. I want to go buy shit so bad.

[bluemoonrabbit]

Man, I just watched a bunch of retrospectives on the Titan submersible and OceanGate, and now all I wish is that the CEO had not been on the sub that day. That man would have had one hell of a criminal negligence suit to deal with if he hadn't gotten turned into a paste.

It's so much worse than that he was just overconfident and miscalculated. The man decided he had to be an innovator, and he was fixated on the idea of using carbon fiber for his hull. No one else was using it! He'd be hailed as a maverick and a genius for bringing this material to the forefront of submersible technology! Never mind that carbon fiber had been very definitively shown to degrade after repeated exposure to high pressure. He had decided that it was his ticket to history and he wouldn't hear otherwise.

The entire industry told him that a carbon fiber hull wasn't safe. He himself knew it wasn't, because he'd had to replace the hull on his original prototype when it started breaking down, like everyone told him it would. Individuals and regulatory bodies reached out again and again laying out the danger and begging him not to do what he was doing, and he dismissed them all as old-fashioned and insular, trying to keep the submersible industry exclusive.

He didn't even do the industry-standard upkeep required for the materials he insisted on using, materials that, once again, had been definitively shown to degrade in deep environments. It is standard, when using carbon fiber in long-term applications, to autoclave it after a few uses to reseal some of the degradation. This fucker, born into wealth and charging $250K per passenger, couldn't stand to spend $20K to autoclave his carbon fiber death trap.

Beyond that, his marketing materials were deliberately misleading: he repeatedly pointed out that the submersible industry has an incredible safety record, pretty much zero deaths in the last 50 years. However, he was knowingly skipping all of the safety tests and best practices that had contributed to that record, meaning he benefited from that reputation without putting in any of the work required to uphold it.

Yeah, I really wish we could have seen him try to argue in court that he wasn't culpable.

[supercantaloupe]

beginning to not have fun with these opera bracket posts tbh

[oflgtfol]

watching art videos and recognizing michaels products counts as a mental illness i think

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than Battle

Been playing Monster Hunter recently and checked to see what my least-played weapon is and found out that I've played shockingly little hammer, so I spent the afternoon beating dragons to death with an exploding healing hammer :D

[medicinemane]

Few things piss me off more than when I'm researching something, and I find someone asking the question I want answered, and the response is just "you shouldn't want that, just do this instead"

Today, it's me trying to look up a build for this witch farm concept that uses raid captains to manipulate the witches ai instead of using redstone

"Just use the shifting floors farms, they're just about as good" people respond... you stupid prick, that's not an answer to the question actually asked. I don't know about these guys, but me, I want it cause it's novel and there's no redstone, and I like putting bespoke prestige projects on my server... you might have noticed I tend to do form over function on a lot of my farms... so this is about form, the function is just a bonus

Second example, I wanted to see if there was any way to make Terra Invicta load faster, "just don't save scum"... you idiot, one that's just stupid advice, people can play games however they want, but two this once again doesn't answer the question

Like yeah, how dare people want to know if there's a way to make a game load saves faster when loading takes like 1 minute

If they at least phrased stuff like "sorry, I don't know how to do that, he's an alternative you might try", it's not helpful but it's at least polite

But man... I just get tired of people not answering the question being asked and instead answering the one they've decided was asked

(Actually, a legit real problem in the real world such as... with doctors who don't listen to their patient and decide they know what's really being asked. Don't do it, answer the asked question, or at least ask questions to confirm what's being asked before going off pig headed)

[strangebiology]

Success is Dependent on Secret Information

A lot of career success depends on you and the work you put into it, as well as luck beyond your control, but sadly, it also depends on secret information, magic words, and stupid little tricks.

That's not fair. I don't like it, but we can help by sharing that secret information--which is the antidote to gate-keeping. That's why I recently wrote this in my Authors of Nonfiction Books in Progress substack:

It can be really disheartening to realize that, when you thought you failed at something because you didn't do well enough, other people had the magic words. For instance, some injustices I've witnessed (that may or may not always be the case, or maybe not anymore!) include:

A good athletic score doesn't get you into a college sport--having a coach or parent talk to the college coach is mandatory

Many school-sponsored scholarships are often not tightly linked to grades, test scores, or financial need, but whether the student said the right words ("I can't afford that") to the right person (presumably some financial office person.)

Apparently, some aspects of some degrees are cheated on by most students (if that's the case, we should tell all students that it's ok to cheat on that so they don't waste their time on something that apparently wasn't important anyway, or worse, fail out just for being ethical.)

Especially related to books: Few people will mention that you can get grants! Not my agent, not my publisher, not the 1 zillion "pros and cons of trad publishing" articles out there mentioned grants (Grant eligibility is a HUGE benefit of trad publishing.) I got more money from grants than my entire book advance!

Let me know what magic words/secret knowledge you've learned, that you wish you knew sooner. Or: the widespread understanding of what information would make a field more fair?

And please share ANBIP with anyone writing, publishing, or seriously about to start writing, a nonfiction non-memoir book, especially if they're interested in the more practical side (I share more about resources and strategy than craft.)

[2tarbell]

US — KOOK!READER

rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

if anyone asked you, you’d say you never got jealous. what was the point? a seemingly endless waste of energy and your valuable attention — people would get on their knees in seconds for a chance to talk to you. a kook princess never got jealous.

which is why the stinging question of ‘why?’ bounced around your head as you watched rafe walk back over to the bar, a pretty head of dark hair awaiting him with an infuriatingly easy going smile.

sofia.

you only learned her name after she introduced herself with a little grin. something about the pogue was effortless and it was currently eating away at any confidence you might’ve had when you walked in.

your makeup felt heavy and your miniskirt too short, too tight — did you look trashy? like you were trying too hard? she was sweet; that girl next door energy you know you’d never have. no matter how much you cried and pleaded.

a bump to your shoulder interrupted your brooding, pretty glossed lips stuck together in a pout, mimicking the furrow of your brow. topper gave you a knowing look and a scowl met him. he chuckled dryly.

“earth to princess, hellooo?”

you rolled your eyes, directing your attention to your empty cocktail glass. the ice looked back at you mockingly — you’re the one who asked rafe to go get you another drink. stupid, stupid, stupid.

“go to hell, top.” the quip made your other best friend laugh, kelce reaching across the table to steal a fry from your untouched plate. how could you eat in a moment like this?

“what’s the problem? you’re literally pouting.” the boy mumbled.

the way kelce spoke through a mouthful of fried potato made you wince. a napkin is thrown in his direction, landing on the table lamely. boys are so messy, and nosey.

you huff dramatically, “ugh, it’s nothing. god, i miss when men went off to war and, like, died or something—“

your annoyed spiel is cut off by a drink being placed in front of you, the lime already squeezed in and floating amongst the cubes of ice. just how you like it. a warm hand rests on the nape of your neck as the chair beside you squeaks against the floor. that voice you know so well rumbling close to you.

“who’s dying?” rafe mumbles as he gets comfortable in the plush chair again, arm stretching behind your shoulders. the gesture is so casual and it makes your stomach twist.

his eyes are piercing when you look over at him — a smirk raises his lips and you fight the urge to slap him then kiss it off his stupid face.

“you — if you were gonna take any longer.”

the eye roll you receive is nothing out of the ordinary — rafe was used to your bitchy tendencies. but watching him chat with the bartender made a seed of doubt burrow into your mind. sofia probably wasn’t such a cunt. maybe that’s why he likes her.

“yeah, well, someone wanted a lime and they were out. sorta hadta wait for your shit, dollface…” rafe explained like it was second nature.

your passive aggressiveness never seemed to phased him, he always put up with it, with you. the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. it was masked with a glare.

you flipped your hair over your shoulder and crossed a leg over the other, stomach churning while you poked at the cocktail with the thin black straw. the conversation between the boys picked back up — blah blah, golf, topper whining about sarah, blah blah.

it was like the cameron boy sensed your disinterest. his arm on the back of your chair shifted, blunt nails now tracing up and down your spine. the contact made your back straighten before leaning into his touch.

it was pacifying for a while. his side profile caught your attention, nose sharp and sexy, cheekbones crafted expertly. he was so handsome it was unfair... she probably thought so, too.

god, why couldn’t you stop thinking about that pogue girl? was he charming and funny to her? maybe he played hard to get and dismissive. maybe her number was sitting in his pocket, scribbled on a napkin in perfect curls — fucking ew.

suddenly you became irritated. the thought of your best friend, your rafe thinking he could flirt with someone like her then slink back over to you. yeah, right. you weren’t that easy. you rolled your shoulders, shrugging off his touch. he shot you a look but didn’t say anything, just adjusted in his chair.

you were listening to the conversation even less now, anger and something you didn’t want to name boiling in your chest. stiff as a board, you picked at your food. only humming in acknowledgment when something concerned you. it was obvious something was the matter and your friends shared curious looks with each other but never asked you outright.

a warm palm tried to squeeze your thigh but you pushed his hand off. rafe clenched his jaw at your dismissal, feeling that familiar need for dominance over you and whatever fuckin’ attitude you decided to have today. with topper and kelce in a heated debate over something probably stupid, rafe leaned in — his breath was hot against your ear as he spoke in a low warning tone.

“don’t know what your fuckin’ deal is — but it ends now, yeah? eat.”

the glare you sent up through your lashes only stoked the fires of his annoyance. there’s a momentary stare off, eyes communicating thousands of thoughts and unspeakable feelings.

with a scoff you look away, feeling a lump form in your throat. no, this isn’t happening. you stand abruptly and rifle through your purse for a hundred before you throw it on the table, storming off with heels clicking.

the sound echoes in rafe’s head as he snatches the bill up, placing his card down on the table. he quickly follows after you, ignoring the way sofia’s eyes light up when he heads her direction.

“hi, rafe, i was just…” her words fizzle out in her tongue as she watches him pass her, marching after the pretty girl in a yellow top.

the small family bathroom offered a reprieve from the stifling nature of rafe’s presence and your own mind. looking in the mirror — you hardly recognized yourself. you shoved your purse onto the counter, feeling like your composure was completely lost.

eyes wide and teary, lips still glittery but trembling. this was only a version of you he could bring out. now, you found yourself wishing for the comforting weight of his words and gaze and — no, be strong. get it together.

the silence was broken by the door being pushed open with immense force. your head dropped, not trusting yourself to form a witty stab of words. within seconds he was turning you, body hard and pressing your back into the counter, reaching behind you and shoving the hundred dollar bill back into your purse. a wince left you when he gripped your jaw tightly with a hold unforgiving and questioning.

“fuck was that, huh? you— you were doin’ so well, dollface, and now—”

the words halted when he saw a shiny tear streak down your face. the way his eyes softened only pushed you further into despair. his hand moved, now cupping your face and running a thumb along your cheekbone. the wet pearl caught on his skin but once they started, they just kept coming.

soon you were in his arms, hiccuping and holding on for dear life. rafe rocked you with a tight hold — voice soothing despite the look of confusion on his face. he’d never seen you this upset before, this broken.

“hey, hey, woah — what’s’a matter? what happened?” he cooed.

his large palm smoothed over your hair as you pressed your makeup running cheeks to his chest. hugging rafe always made everything better, but now you can’t stop thinking about him holding her like this.

he spoke your name firmly, pulling your head back to look deep into your wet eyes. his stare was intense, worried and seeking answers.

“use your words f’me,” he pushed your hair back off your forehead as he mumbled. and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shrieked about him ruining your hair.

“jus’— d’you like her?” you blubbered.

rafe was more than confused, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. he crouched down a little, trying to hear your meek voice better.

frustrated and distraught, you pushed him back weakly. a few more inches were put between you two — only a few seconds until he crowded you again, trying to soothe you.

“sofia, rafe! do you like her?”

your yelling had him stepping even closer. shaking his head quickly, confused and slightly irritated, rafe cupped your cheeks in his palms.

“okay, okay— i heard you. don’t scream. i don’t— i don’t even fuckin’ know her. stop, stay still—“

you were squirming, trying to get far from him. far from this and the horrible ache in your chest at just the thought him maybe, possibly—

“stop, i’m talking now. ‘m not— i don’t like sofia, okay? i don’t, y���hear me?” his voice was authoritative, freezing you in place. those blue eyes pleaded with yours for understanding, for trust.

despite the tension between you, his heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his. he sees the sparkle in your eyes, that fire mixed with a hint of softness that he’s so fond of. it gives him a glimmer of hope that maybe he can bridge this gap between you.

“c’mon. you know you’re my girl.”

you melt into him unconsciously, seeking that warmth his embrace always seemed to bring. you’re hugging each other tightly in the small bathroom. rafe stares at your figures in the mirror, watching as you nuzzle further into his arms. like you belong there.

with a sniffle, you tip your head back. feeling so small as you look up at his face. rafe leans down and presses a tender kiss to your mouth — moving slowly in a moment of raw vulnerability.

his voice is low, you feel the vibrations against your lips as he speaks softly, “i wouldn’t do that t’you… to us.”

he feels your body tense at his words, his hands squeeze your hips. with wide eyes you pull back from the kiss and gape at him. his touch is begging you to listen, to not freak out. the tears well anew as you let his words wash over you. us. he thinks there’s an us.

suddenly, it’s like you can breathe again. like all the nights feeling scared and confused without him seem worth it. all of it’s worth it to be in his arms like this, hearing him justify the feelings you’ve done everything to bury.

rafe cups your cheek in one hand, the other arm wrapping fully around your body. there’s something so tender and charged about the way he’s looking at you and wiping your crocodile tears away.

he’s begging you now, eyes flicking between yours, “you’re my girl, you know that. always gonna be us, a’ight?”

a light burns in your heart and you realize that you do know that. when has it ever been anything else? when has he not been by your side, dealing with your bullshit? rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

with a shaky exhale you nod, leaning into his palm. the sight of you so fragile tears at his heart and rafe draws you in closer. his nose finds home in your hairline and he peppers kisses along your forehead. us.

the revelation didn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, insecurity still pecking at your mind.

“she’s probably easier to deal with.”

“nah, i don’t wan’ easy.”

he pulls back, holding the back of your neck to angle your face towards him. there’s a hardness to his gaze — like the very idea of easy is repulsing him. then he’s smirking and leaning in.

rafe presses a firm kiss to your mouth, tongue parting your lips and swallowing the hiccup of pleasure that slipped out. his leg wedges its way between yours, knee pressed snugly underneath your miniskirt. he’s devouring you completely unforgivingly. without thought, you roll your hips against his knee. the tension in your body melts away as the friction of his jeans meets your covered clit.

“mmf, rafe—”

“i don’t want easy,” his words accented by harsher presses of his leg upward, causing you to choke on air, “i want you. whiny and bratty and beautiful you. got it?”

nodding your head fervently, he smushes his lips against yours. lifting you onto the small counter and shoving a hand up your skirt, his hardness pressing thick and pulsing against your thigh. the kiss so messy and clothes haphazardly being pulled to the side. the spark of finally being seen, finally being acknowledged as his, fuels the moment.

the sex is slow and steady, a promise of commitment and dedication to this messy relationship. to each other. tears of pleasure and happiness collect on your lash line, pretty face scrunched in ecstasy only rafe could provide.

(and topper and kelce took his card and ordered five beers each.)

[fragmentedblade]

The fact his son's way of making Mr. Xiao pay attention to us is having us work for him so that we'd get on his nerves... hilarious, and so real

[snailstrailz]

I hate how Mojang says they won't add sharks bc "we won't make hostile mobs based on real animals" BITCH MAKE IT NEUTRAL OR BETTER YET, PASSIVE!

Make people want to breed/keep them around for underwater builds because they scare away drowned! Make them drop their teeth every few minutes like how chickens lay eggs as an alternative way to craft arrows or a new item! Add sharks to Minecraft in a positive way!!

Achievement called "friend, not food" for breeding sharks using fish!

Have variants based on which ocean they spawn in!

Upon killing a shark, it drops JACK SHIT!!

Edit:

Reblogs were turned off due to the fact that this post's popularity completely overwhelmed me and it was way too much for my stupid nurodivergent brain, so I did what I had to to not fuck myself up more. You're welcome to repost.

Edit 2: reblogs are back on

[lohotine]

``A More Vulnerable Side of the Elusive Moon``

Shadow Milk Cookie x GN Reader

CW: Slight Angst, not heavily proof read

The moon only shines because of the sun; yet it claims that light as its own. It is as greedy as it is illustrious. It appears bigger than it actually is due to an illusion. If placed in a room alongside a certain jester, and you were told to point to the liar, which would you choose?

Despite all of this, you can't help but admire it all the same. Even with all of its flaws, how can one not acknowledge its beauty?

"Thinking about something?"

You turn your head away from the moon only to be met by another. This one has a blueish hue and a signature, masked smile to go with it.

"Nothing you'd find entertaining," you say to Shadow Milk.

He continues to stare at you, unblinking. Despite him only having two eyes, you feel the gaze of hundreds more still on you.

Shadow Milk takes a seat next to you, taking your hand in his nearly instantly. It's cold to the touch.

"Hmmm, you think too much," He takes a strand of your hair and begins to twirl it. "There's no need for all of these silly thoughts to be running around in your mind."

Ever the touchy cookie.

"It's nice to think sometimes," You'd respond.

Shadow Milk Cookie only rolls his eyes before releasing your hand. "But that's so BORING. The only thoughts you should be thinking about anyway should be about me!"

You feel him place his head on your shoulder, and though his face is not visible to you, you're sure he's pouting.

"In a way, I was sort of thinking about you."

He lifts his head and turns to face you, his signaturing smile returning just as quickly as it faded. "Really?" He sounds akin to that of a small child receiving a gift on their birthday. In response, you nod your head.

"Mhm..." You shift slightly so you are behind him before wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head in the crook of his neck.

His expression is almost unreadable, yet there seems to be some sort of... annoyance.

"I'm always the big-spoon," Shadow Milk grumbles.

He hates to admit it, but he just loves to always be in control. Sure, this is a small example of it, but not having the upper hand in situations like this causes him to feel stuck.

Shadow Milk absolutely despises feeling stuck.

Even if you read through the dictionary one hundred times, you'd never find quite the right words to describe the disdain Shadow Milk experiences when it comes to feeling stuck.

"Just this one time please... I wanna hold you," you'd mutter.

Shadow Milk thinks it is absolutely pathetic how quickly he folds when you ask like that; yet it doesn't change the fact that he still does.

He may not have said it out loud, but him not moving out of your grasp was his own way of voicing that he would allow it.

Actually, it really was quite odd how quiet Shadow Milk was being. Normally he doesn't shut up.

But as you look up at his face, you can tell that something is different. He's thinking about something.

It's not like he never thinks, though. He thinks quite a lot, actually. He's just never so... obvious about it. So still... silent.

Perhaps he hates it. Perhaps he loves it.

Or... maybe a bit of both?

When it comes to Shadow Milk, it really is hard to tell.

"Thinking about something?" You parrot his way of speech from earlier.

His gaze locks onto yours. It's sharp and filled with something... Hatred? Confusion? Maybe it's something more innocent, like surprise. Whatever it is, it only lasts a moment.

One small, fleeting moment.

Then he's back to grinning, back to hiding behind that mask he's so carefully crafted.

You admit, you're not sure if you love him or the mask.

He, too, is unsure.

"You don't need to worry your little head about it!" He flicks your forehead.

"But I like to worry about you," You'd say.

And once again, Shadow Milk finds it absolutely disgusting how quickly he folds when it comes to your words.

Think about it; a beast such as him, falling for a mere weak, stupid, and frankly, rather gross mortal?

Just what would the other beasts think about him if they were to ever find out?

What would YOU think about him?

No, he simply cannot let you find out. Or anyone! But mainly you.

In fact, there isn't even anything to find out! Since he doesn't like you...

And as you observe him, you realize he's fallen silent once more. There's no grin or anything hidden on his face. He simply gazes at you. Admiring you, maybe? Staring? You're still not sure.

But you do know that this version of him is something different. A more fragile... more real version.

It's something you haven't seen before.

Perhaps it's even a more vulnerable side of the elusive moon.

AN:

This writing is actually pretty messy tbh, but this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week and I didn't know what to do with it.

I might write more using ideas from this, and hopefully that'll give me time to let all of this marinate.

I'm not sure how well the ideas in this work together, since there's a lot of them, but I still think they're pretty interesting to explore.

IE; Shadow Milk's fears, reader's doubt when it comes to loving a liar, and the comparison of SMC to the moon.

Idk what I'm even doing anymore tbh, but um yeah. Here's something to chew on IG