#like when i say its impossible i fucking mean it

[bigification]

A Large Pair of Swim Shorts

The weather is beautiful today. It's a hot summer day, only slightly overcast, but that won't stop you and your boys from having a beach day.

"It's so nice to finally get out." John said with a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, boss has been workin us to the bone this week to get that house built. I can't wait to lay down and do jack shit all day." Pete chimed in.

You finally reach the sandy beach and walk over to a nearby picnic table. You slam the beer filled cooler onto the table and start opening up your beach chair for a well deserved rest.

"Hey boys! Look at this shit." John laughs while pointing at something obscured by the table.

You bend over to see around the table, but you don't see anything interesting. Just a blue beach towel someone must have left behind.

"What?" You scoff at him.

John runs over to the towel and holds it up for you like a dog would with a big stick.

"It's a pair of swim shorts you dumbasses!" John exclaims as he turns the shorts to reveal the drawstring.

"How much of a fat ass do you have to be for that thing to fit you?" You laugh at the comically large pair of shorts.

"Does that mean there's some whale swimmin out there naked." Pete erupts into laughter.

"Wait wait, watch this!" You say as an idea pops into your head.

You run over to John and snatch the shorts out of his hands. They look even larger up close, it's hard to imagine anyone actually fitting into this. You slip one leg into each hole of the shorts and pull them up to pretend you're wearing them.

"I bet we could easily fit all three of us in here." You struggle to say through your laughter.

"That's gross man! Who knows what kinda slob wore those before." John joked.

But the happy expression on your face quickly fades when a weird sensation shoots through your body. Your suspicions are confirmed as you look down and realize that your feet are rapidly growing. Within moments your average sized feet grow to size 20, then size 30, growing far past the size of any shoes in existence. They finally settle at about four times their size, making you look like a clown.

"What the fuck is happening to you man!?" John yells out.

"I-I don't know.." you respond.

But before you can get another word out, it continues. First your calves grow, forcing you to spread your legs and nearly doubling your height. Now standing at 11 feet tall, you have to look down at your friends to see them. Next your thighs expand, growing thick muscle and fat as they instantly shred through your old swim shorts and perfectly fill out the new ones. You once again have to spread your legs so they don't rub together. Also it takes a moment for you to catch your balance because the wind is much stronger up at 16 feet.

As if your massive shorts weren't tight enough around your thighs, your flat ass swells into two juicy cheeks that bounce every time you take a step. By this point, the shorts 'that would only fit a fatass' are skin tight, making it all the more obvious when your dick starts to grow. An obvious bulge forms over your crotch, snaking its way up toward your waist. Each surge of growth adds inches in both length and girth, as well as sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your dick finally stops growing at over 2 feet long and 6 inches thick, basically impossible to hide in any normal clothing but it's not like you'll ever fit into normal clothing anyway.

"Holy shit dude! Your dick is massive." Pete comments.

"I know right? It feels... so.... goooood." You moan as a large stain forms in your shorts.

And as if to trigger it, your upper body starts to grow. You can hear your spine reshape as it grows exponentially, leaving you at a staggering 22 feet tall. Your slightly chubby belly is completely replaced by a six pack with a sharp V line on your waist. Your chest and shoulders broaden to over 8 feet wide as your flabby chest is replaced by two perfectly muscular pecs with nipples larger than CDs.

The bones in your arms reshape as they grow nearly 12 feet long. Your biceps swell larger than a tree trunk and your forearms aren't much smaller. Your hands grow and thicken until they're larger than your camping chair. Large enough to pick up one of your friends in one hand. Each finger is larger than a water bottle.

That's not the end, however. Right now you're left with a comically small head compared to your hulking body. That all changes when you start to feel the bones in your head growing and reshaping. Your jaw becomes sharp and square, your nose becomes thicker, and your brow bone creates a shelf over your eyes. Finally leaving you over 24 feet tall and over 8 feet wide.

Once the transformation finally slows down, your new perspective lets you see something interesting buried in the sand. You bend down and lift the picnic table up as if it weighed nothing. You pull out some suspiciously large jewellery from the sand. A chain, a watch, and a pair of sunglasses that all seem to fit you perfectly.

"What the hell just happened. Pete did you spike my drink?" John asks.

"Nope, that just happened for real." Pete stutters.

"God this feels amazing." Your voice booms.

"You look so jacked, too." John points out.

"I know man! Watch this." You say excitedly as you pounce your pecs.

That's when you notice something interesting. Where you found the jewellery, there are what looks like two beach towels buried in the sand. Pulling them out, you realize they're two more giant swim trunks. Though they look significantly larger than yours.

A devious smile takes over your face as you reach to grab both of your friends. You toss them each into one of the massive swim shorts and watch in delight as they grow. A few cracking bones, swelling muscles, and moans later, you are left with two horny giants just like you. Although it seems unlike you, their transformations accentuated their more mature and rounded features.

[worlds-worst-ships]

Do you seriously, actually ship it?

Okay. Lets talk. Because apparently some of you are defending... well... "that" (under the cut)

"He's autistic! It was a stim!"

If you genuinely think that this has ANYTHING to do with autism, you are an objectively stupid person. Like, your brain is so fucking smooth, it puts the surface of freshly tempered glass to shame. You're a barely functional reprobate with subhuman intelligence who has no idea how to form thoughts so you let a 50 year old billionaire who spends too much time on his phone decide your thought process for you.

"He was throwing his heart out to the crowd!"

Now, I don't really play baseball, basketball, netball, or any sport where you throw anything other than sometimes darts, but... is that how you throw? You perfectly extend your arm at that angle? Twice? After spending years posting tweets that very much align with Nazi viewpoints? Do you throw a pitch in baseball and scream SIEG HEIL as the ball hurtles towards your opponent? No. Stop being a fucking idiot. This was deliberate. He did it twice.

"He's autistic! He doesn't know better!"

Please comment if you actually think this so I can personally call you a stupid cunt and block you. We absolutely do know better. Autism and Nazism aren't mutually exclusive.

"You're inhibiting his free speech!"

1st amendment only applies to censorship from government positions of power, which I am not, as should be obvious from the fact that I have no power to censor him. Though I shouldn't have to explain that.

"Well, he's gonna get away with it so stop being so sensitive!"

Yes. He is. But that's not a flex, that's A FUCKING MASSIVE PROBLEM. Call me sensitive if you want, but absolutely every single one of you should be offended by this. Did you pay attention in history class, or were you too tired after a long night of being fucking railed raw and bone dry by propaganda on Twitter? Moron.

"Well, he's rich and you're not, so there!"

Yep. Got me there. He's rich, and I'm not. Yknow, Hitler and a lot of Nazi officers were pretty minted too. So was Epstein, King Leopold, Stalin, Jimmy Saville, every MP currently serving in parliament... but sure, they're great people because they're rich, right?

"You're just a stupid offended libtard!"

Google "The Holocaust".

"Well, you're still using his app!"

His app? You mean the one he bought, then fucking ruined because he has no idea how to run it, right? And you because its basically impossible to find mutuals as a vtuber without it, you knew that, right? "His" app, please, you probably think Ronald McDonald makes your burger when you order McDonalds, you moron.

"If we punish Elon for this, then that's a violation of the first amendment!"

You mean like banning tiktok, removing any and all talk of election rigging, then putting it back up the next day? Or maybe like deleting any criticisms of you and your nazi salutes under your recent tweets despite it blowing up everywhere else? Or does that not count because its something you agree with? Yeah. You've been cucked harder than Sneako and you don't even realize it. Elon and his government buddies are leaving your free speech rights looking like this

Aaaaanyway

I find it well and truly laughable that so many people like Elon will say all this insane shit and do all these fucking heinous things and people will defend them. Like how that gun woman who shit herself says stuff like "I'm not homophobic, I just think gay people are disgusting and that they should die" or that comedian nobody finds funny anymore spends hours whining about trans people but says he's not transphobic.

Lets all be on the same page for once and have the balls to say what we actually think. Elon got so close, but being a spineless edgelord who doesn't have the balls to just say what he thinks out loud is quite the weakness.

[xxelliewxx]

Fire and Frost {Ellie x Reader} Ch. 2

Pairings: loser!(AFAB)Reader x hockey player!Ellie

Synopsis: When y/n is requested to tutor Ellie Williams in organic chemistry, she expects arrogance and attitude from the hockey player. However, she discovers a different aspect of Ellie’s tough exterior, revealed through humor and fleeting glances. This raises the question: why does Ellie go to great lengths to embarrass and harass y/n whenever they are in the presence of others?

Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, sexual/physical assault, alcohol, violence, trauma (if I miss any let me know!)

w/c: 2.4k

an: this is my first time ever posting fanfic on Tumblr, so feedback is completely welcome! this is not proofread and is a work in progress.

Ch 1: Iron Bonds

Carbon Memory

The Chemistry Club frequently served as your refuge where you could momentarily escape your past and current traumas. Serving as the President of the club was something you took pride in, using your position to inspire a deeper love and understanding of such a complex topic. You excelled in event planning, frequently jotting down ideas on your iPad for potential projects to showcase throughout the campus, aimed at attracting new members to the club. With only 15 members to represent, the chemistry club lacked funding to continue its meetings.

Dr. M was confident that you would discover a means to secure additional funding to maintain operations, and her trust in your capabilities rendered failure an impossibility. This is why you found yourself scribbling idea after idea, hoping to promote them at tonight's meeting. Dina, your friend since Freshman year, hovered over your shoulder, providing unwanted commentary, and scoffing at some of your ideas.

"Wow, Y/N, I always knew you were a bit of a nerd, but I didn't realize it was to this level! A scavenger hunt based on the periodic table? Seriously?"

You let out an exasperated sigh at your friend, quickly grabbing your iPad from her grasp and shielding your work, desperate to put an end to the relentless chatter. "Just leave me alone, D. If you're not going to offer the support and ideas you promised, you might as well spend time with Jesse, which is clearly what you prefer."

Dina swatted your arm playfully before taking the seat next to you, glancing at the iPad once more. "Fine, Y/N, I'm just messing with you. Sheesh, what has your panties in a wad?"

You shot her a fierce look, placing the apple pencil aside with a thud. "Dina, I am really not up for this right now. Especially now that I will be losing my mornings to that insufferable Ellie. I can't believe Dr. M would do me dirty like that." You threw your hands up in frustration.

Dina's eyebrows arched high, nearly disappearing into her hair as she exclaimed, "She what?! Seriously, Ellie didn't say a word about this during morning skate yesterday. She always jumps at the opportunity to shit-talk you."

Your jaw dropped at her remark, "Fuck you, Dina." You smacked her shoulder, defensively, fully aware she was just trying to get a rise out of you. Yet, deep down, you knew there was a grain of truth in her jabs. It was no secret that the captain had a strong dislike for you, a mystery you had long since stopped trying to unravel.

Dina giggled, munching on some Twizzlers she produced from her backpack, using it to point at your face. "You know, sometimes I wonder if she just actually want's to fuck you. I mean, seriously, she brings you up far too often. Anytime she brings you up, Coach makes her do suicides in full gear."

You felt a warm flush creep up your cheeks at your friend's teasing remarks, a whirlwind of images flashing through your mind that you desperately tried to banish. "Oh, come on, D, I just want this semester to end. I seriously doubt she'll be in any of my classes again, she's barely passing this one."

The thought of never seeing the auburn haired girl again stirred a whirlwind of feelings within, with relief rising to the forefront. You could daydream. Huffing, you glanced at your watch seeing it was quarter to 8, your nose wrinkled. "Speaking of, I have to go meet Williams in the library in a few. Please text me some of your ideas, I really need your help."

Shoving your iPad into your backpack, you quickly grabbed the Twizzler from Dina's grasp, savoring the sweet, chewy treat. Dina shot you a fierce look, saying, "You're lucky you're my best friend. Have fun on your date." Her eyebrows danced playfully, hinting suggestively.

"Fuck you," You muttered under your breath, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as you left the dining hall. Each step toward the library felt heavy, a sense of dread creeping in with every footfall. This was far from the semester you had envisioned; you were determined to steer clear of the girl as best as you could.

As you checked the time on your watch, a wave of panic washed over you; you were already late for your first tutoring session, and you could already imagine the endless teasing that awaited you. With a swift motion, you pushed open the heavy oak doors and swept your gaze across the study hall. There she was, lounging in the far corner, her feet casually resting on the table as if she owned the place. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you approached her, noticing her engrossed in scribbling doodles in her notebook.

"You sure know how to keep a girl waiting, don't you, geek?" Ellie kept her gaze fixed on her notebook, playfully teasing without even glancing your way. The nickname that was supposed to be sweet ignited a fire of anger within you, as it was evident that it was being wielded as a tool for mockery rather than affection.

Shoving her feet off the table, you brushed aside her piercing gaze, which was locked onto you with an intimidating animosity, as you began to arrange your study materials. "Not everyone can lounge around looking cool all day while Mommy and Daddy pay for everything, many of us are tied down with responsibilities and jobs."

As you dug into the depths of your backpack to retrieve your textbook, a heavily tattooed hand suddenly crashed down onto its cover, making you flinch in surprise. "Do not speak about me as if you fucking know me. Mention my parents one more time and I will fucking end you."

Your heart raced, and your eyes widened as you struggled to keep your gaze locked with the hockey player. After enduring months of torment, you had resolved long ago to hold your ground with her, and today was no exception. "You need me just as much as I need you so I suggest you get used to the idea of me."

Her hand rested on your textbook, veins pulsing with fury as it shook before she clenched it into a tight fist. "I have no desire to see you as anything other than the loser geek who assisted me in keeping my grades up. To me, that's all you will ever be—nothing beyond that."

You fumed, "I don't know what world you're living in where I have any intention of getting to know you, don't flatter yourself. You see, Ellie, this is your problem is that you have such an inflated ego, thinking that everyone and everything exists just to cater to you."

She leaned back in her chair, arms folded tightly, her fingers twitching as if battling the urge to punch you. With her teeth clenched, Ellie shot back, "Like you said, you need me just as much as I need you. So let's get this over with."

You flipped open your textbook, deliberately avoiding her piercing gaze, silently wishing for this session to pass in a blur. "What are you having trouble with in this class? It's been pretty straightforward until now."

Ellie exhaled loudly, reaching for your wrist that was currently flipping through the pages. "Seriously, dork, if you want this to be as painless as possible you'll cease to insult my intelligence. I get the fundamental ideas; I'm not a fucking moron. I bombed the last test because I struggle with equations, and those organic reactions totally tanked my score."

Throwing your hand out of her grasp, Ellie pulled out her notebook you had been admiring the other day, finding the doodles to be adorable. Adorning the tattered cover were whimsical illustrations inspired by the cosmos and clever wordplay. One particular pun caught your eye: an otter, fishing pole in hand, pulling in a fish with the playful phrase, "I'm Otterly Hooked." You couldn't help but giggle, stifling the sound with your hand.

Ellie quirked an eyebrow, the one with the slit in it that you found oddly appealing, her expression a mix of curiosity and confusion over the cause of your sudden outburst. "Is there something I am missing? What's so funny about me completely wrecking my GPA?"

You could feel her irritation rising as you hurriedly clarified your reasoning to diffuse the escalating tension. "Sorry, but I can't help it—your notebook is adorable! I really enjoy a twist on words."

The hockey player's shoulders visibly eased, the weight of her tension lifting with your confession. She massaged the back of her neck and said, "Yeah, me too," before clearing her throat. Turning her attention back to her test, she focused intently on the red marks scattered across her paper.

An unexpected ease settled in, almost like you guys finding a shared interest on such a mundane subject broke the ice just a little bit.  A grin spread across your face when you noticed the same spark of amusement in the girl with forest-green eyes. Inspiration struck as you hastily pulled out your iPad. The other girl raised an eyebrow at your actions, clearly curious about your next move.

Sticking your tongue out you scribbled out your own version of word-play, exhilaration surging through you. A soft giggle escaped your lips as you added the final details to your artwork, then, with a mix of excitement and nervousness, you placed the device down, eager for Ellie to admire your masterpiece. Leaning herself forward, Ellie chuckled. On your iPad was a shark giving a thumbs-up, bubbles spelling out "Fintastic".

"As much as I love punny jokes, I really need to get some studying done before morning practice," she sighed. "Coach is already breathing down my neck about how I'm 'not demonstrating leadership qualities with my poor grades,'" she said, deepening her voice to mimic her coach, complete with exaggerated air quotes.

You found yourself instinctively extending your arm across the table, taking her hand in yours, a wave of sympathy washing over you. "Even if you stumble on a few tests, it doesn't define your ability to lead. I can see, despite our differences, that you genuinely care for the people around you."

Ellie stopped breathing as she looked down at your hand, as fragrant tendrils of lavender rose to her nose in powerful bursts. You purchased a vial of lavender oil the very night following your encounter, discovering a deep sense of comfort in its soothing aroma. Ellie shook her head vigorously, pulling her hand away from yours with a huff. "Stop pretending you know me, you dork," she muttered, irritation lacing her words.

You couldn't help the hurt that flooded your chest at her actions, making it feel like for every stride you made, you were being pulled two steps back into the shadows. "Whatever, Ellie. Just give me your test packet, I can draw up some practice equations."

Taking the paper from her grasp, you found yourself pleasantly surprised by her handwriting, which you had anticipated to be a jumbled mess. Instead, it was surprisingly tidy and even quite lovely. As you scanned through her incorrect answers, the source of her errors started to become clear. She was neglecting the solvent reactions, a detail that could be easily adjusted.

You looked up at Ellie, noticing her fingers gently gliding over the tattoo on her forearm, which peeked out from under her hockey sweatshirt. The name "Ellie Williams" was elegantly inscribed in flowing cursive across her right chest, accompanied by the school mascot nestled beneath it, her muscles subtly flexing beneath the fabric. Ellie sensed the weight of gazes upon her and locked eyes with you, her expression devoid of any feeling, as if she possessed the power to erase all traces of emotion, making you shiver.

Clearing your throat, embarrassed at being caught staring you asked, "Ellie, do you remember SN1 vs. SN2 or E1 vs. E2?"

Ellie's brows knitted together in confusion as she shook her head. "No, I don't. Was that part of the test?" As she reached for her paper, her finger brushed against yours while she held onto the packet. She appeared completely unfazed by the contact, but you felt a rush of emotions from that fleeting touch, struggling to suppress the stir of feelings it ignited within you.

Ellie's confusion morphed into frustration as she flung the paper onto the table between you two, her arms crossing defiantly, a familiar gesture of hers. "When the fuck did we learn this? I feel like I would have remembered that shit."

Reflecting on the time when the hockey player was missing from the lecture hall, you pinpointed the date when this chapter was covered. "We went over this two weeks ago, right at the end of September. But you weren't around," you said softly, the last part slipping out almost shyly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with how closely you had noticed her attendance. She had been absent for a whole week, and even her friends were left in the dark about the reasons for her disappearance.

You had failed to be discreet as she instantly caught on to your observation. "How do you remember when I was or wasn't in class," Ellie asked, her tone surprisingly warm rather than angry, as if she appreciated your attention. The flicker of warmth quickly vanished as she shook her head. "Whatever, it's not a big deal, I will just talk with Dr. M and this whole arrangement can be finished."

Ellie didn't pause for your response; she sprang to her feet, shoving her books and notes into her backpack with a sense of urgency. In a whirlwind of emotion, she dashed out of the library, leaving you in a state of turmoil. The air around you felt heavy with silence as you sat there, rooted to your chair, struggling to muster the strength to move. Confusion swirled in your mind, and it wasn't until you finally resolved to gather your belongings that you began to erase any trace of your encounter, clearing the table as if to wipe away the memory of her presence.

As you reached for your iPad to lock the screen, your gaze was caught by a whimsical illustration beside your shark. There, next to the fierce creature, was a cheerful seal donning a festive party hat, joyfully proclaiming "Sealebration." The image stirred a wave of melancholy within you, a reminder of the frustration you felt over her unwillingness to engage with you civilly, despite the undeniable connection that seemed to linger between you.

A message pinged, shattering your focus on the scene before you. You grabbed your phone, heart racing with the hope that it was from a particular athlete. Your enthusiasm fizzled out the moment you saw Dina's name flashing on your notifications.

Dina: How about a Periodic Table Fashion Show! We could call it "Atomic Fashion" or "Noble Gas Glam"

For once, you didn't find amusement in a pun.

[sanstropfremir]

I'm really enjoying reading through your blog, and of course it has to do a lot with the fact that I also love to bits everything Taemin puts out. Unfortunately tumblr makes it really annoying to try and get to older posts, so sorry if you've already spoken about any of this T-T

A big part of why I love Taemin's solo work so much is his unique style, which shines through both technique and performance.

Taemin has many times spoke about how he's heavily involved in everything concerning his work: styling, picking out the samples, lyrics, themes, choreo, you name it he took care of it at some point. "The taemin genre" couldn't have emerged simply out of him being an above average dancer, his signature is on everything.

But surely, very often he can't do much more than express his opinion on something, and a lot of the end product is still created by other people? It would be silly to expect him to dance, sing, produce, write lyrics, style all at once, right? Or would it?

I very, very often hear people take pride in the fact that their fav is an "all-rounder", that presumably does most of the "creating" purely by themselves, or at least can shine all alone, even without the support of a group. But does that imply that artists that only do the performing part are somehow less "authentic", or worthy of praise? Or that idols comfortable in their position as a team player aren't talented or into what they do? To call yourself a master you probably have to spend a decade on just one skill, so why expect teens and young adults to be Da Vincis?

Now, of course it's still amazing when an idol puts in the work and branches out. Taemin's vocal improvement undoubtedly gave him more creative opportunities and made his stages that much more impactful.

But even just being an idol and maintaining an attractive appearance (for criteria as harsh as it is in k-pop) would easily count as a full-time job, so I would go as far as to say that this expectation of total creative control is a little delusional.

haha it was really funny watching you go through everything! yea tumblr is really bad about that, but if you go to my blog on desktop/not the mobile version you should be able to page back through ALL my asks, which are all tagged by 'answers'. there are like probably around a thousand of those now tho.

i have kind of talked about this before, but i'm very happy to talk about it again, because i always think it's worthwhile to clarify what the actual process is like for creating a collaborative work.

you are right, taemin and every other idol who says they're 'involved' in the process in some way is most likely just picking options and expression opinions about things that designers and stylists have already curated for them. it is physically impossible for a single person to do EVERYTHING involved in something like creating a kpop cb, because there are just too many tasks. and if one person DID try to do it all on their own, it would take probably 100x as long to finish. let me use styling as an example: lots of idols have professed to have input on styling choices, but this can range anywhere from bringing in moodboards and having discussions about what styling they're interested in at design meetings, to just picking which thing they like best from a selection of clothes already provided by the designer. in NO fucking world is an idol:

taking measurements

shopping for fabric

shopping for clothing

sewing and altering clothing

doing the budgeting

labelling and collating all the pieces together

taking fitting notes

these are all extremely specialized skills that 1) take TIME to learn how to do and how to do well, and 2) just take TIME to DO. you want to know what i spend probably 40% of the total production time of a show doing when i costume design? fucking SHOPPING. an idol may contribute ideas to a design and make executive choices, but in NO way are they solely responsible for everything about styling. the only idol that i would believe to have a heavier hand than most in this regard is kibum, who does actually have a good knowledge of fashion and fabric and i could see him going shopping with a designer. but if you think that man is sewing anything? cmon.

and this is just for ONE aspect of a cb. you think an idol is also painting the set? shopping for props? setting up the lighting? most idols that are known for dancing aren't even choreographing their own work, INCLUDING taemin. it is absolutely and unquestionably delusional to say that an idol has total creative control over something. this whole idea doesn't originate in kpop (it's auteur theory's fault), but kpop does suffer from an acute version of it, because there's a general collective concensus that devalues the creative work of the labourer. basically, people will only classify you as a "true artist" if you're the one who comes up with the ideas, because ideas and concepts are given more importance and weight. it's a type of because 'being in charge'/'at the top of the food chain that's been perpetuated by capitalism and western postmordern art theory that intentionally places value of conceptual skills higher than those of craftspeople. no type of person is a ''true artist'' and most art takes many people with many different skills in order to create. i find it unintentionally very funny that you use da vinci as an example of an 'allrounder' (or 'renaissance man' as they used to be called) because he, like every other famous painter from the era, used apprentices to help paint his paintings!!!!! he was even an apprentice himself for verrocchio!! da vinci's legacy would not have been possible without all the other people who helped him create the work that he did!

what is the real kicker about this whole mess is that downplays the beauty of the fact that art is made collaboratively. an 'ideas' person cannot realize those ideas without a craftsperson there to help them. everyone who takes part in creating something is important, and it's fucked to only acknowledge specific people in that process.

[nemotakeit]

i think that if we dig all the way down to the roots of tøp's musical theme, it all comes down to that constant internal conflict between desperately wanting to be seen and desperately wanting to stay hidden. we can see how they've been making gradual progress in "managing the tension" but it's still there on Clancy. dare i say it's the central theme of the lore as well.. the reason the character & the era Clancy feels so rebellious is because he's actively fighting to Be Seen. the oscillation continues, but a subversive variable has emerged.

[emotinalsupportturtle]

idk this is probably a very personal experience but I find it so annoying that every therapist, counsellor I talk to just seems to go ‘oh looks like you can deal with it’. Like I know enough tricks to be productive, I fucking understand why I’m failing and I intellectually know if I don’t procrastinate I’ll get so much more done. I get it’s probably meant as empowerment but it feels dismissive I don’t keep going to appointments for fun.

like this is not even blaming them idk if there is anything they can do other that encourage me but with study related stuff specifically they give the impression of not caring if you’re doing okay academically. Like I know my grades indicate I’m doing decently but I’m not even doing as half as well as I could and it’s killing me

[paging-possum]

on some level I understand that welcome to hell is probably a little harder to sell than hazbin given the *gestures vaguely* entire main plotline of w2h THAT SAID im going to be mad about it forever. because one of them is actually funny and has good character design and compelling dynamics and a good plot and its not the one about the freaking hotel.

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[acerikus]

Someone being extremely annoying in the replies of my flowey and clover gif and I'm running out of patience 😭

[maeamian]

tbqh it's weird as hell to me that there's this given understanding about fictional aliens that they'd be surprised or confused by adaptability, but like, as far as we know and understand that is a fundamental quality of life itself not life on earth. In order to become a spacefaring species any spacefaring alien would've had to survive whatever space threw at them for billions of years as well as whatever their planet in specific threw at them, even the 'good' planet we know about is pretty fucking hostile to life. It's just implausible to me that like, among all the possible sapient species we'd be unique or interesting for the level to which we have the ability to adapt to situations, something that any biological creature of any origin would also need to survive long enough as a species to figure out how space works.

[shadystranger]

When sam dies dean's frantic with his tunnel vision his mind and body practically shut down on all levels that matter and the only thing he knows is world-ending irrational desperation and his one-track minded sam-grieving tends to explode in his own face for the most part. He keeps it contained to himself or only a selective of people he's willing to sacrifice meanwhile when dean dies sam becomes just as frantic and desperate but with it he becomes way more orthodox, he's crazy smart and scarier than a lunatic is a lunatic who is calculative who is creative who can do evil in ways not even predictable. He'll come up with things and loopholes no human even dared think about like the immortal zombie organ trafficking or massacring every angel in heaven or unleashing a force even more powerful and dooming as god on earth. All to get his brother back. In his grief sam is a danger to himself and the entire world rather than have it explode in his face like dean he lets it absorb him and everyone in close vicinity (or not). If dean is a knife edge that cuts anything it falls on then sam is a fucking war nuclear in his brother-grieving

[skullzy20]

I am not exaggerating when I say I live with one of the worst cishet men I've ever met in my life and its horrible

Pretty big vent incoming in tags, just a warning. Feel free to scroll past /gen

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

OH THEYRE GONNA GIVE HIM THERAPY

[hazeism]

hi!! wanted to ask if you have any favorite books, either that you've read recently or of all time. Your prose is insane and I need to broaden my own vocabulary so if you have any book recs, fiction or nonfiction, I'd love to know :')

Hii :D ! ahaha, what a well-timed question; lately I've become the kind of guy who just really wants to talk about what people are reading, or are planning to read, and responding in kind, so thanks for giving me an opportunity to indulge that, haha. What a wicked invention the printing press was!!! (Also--thank you!! I'm glad my prose is to your taste. I'm happy !💕)

If you don't mind, I'll put a cut on this right away, because I know I'm very talkative, but let me put a TLDR above for all the novels/authors I mention here. Disclaimer also that I am kind of a dunce (I think you know this) so I like silly shit a lot of times . please be nice to me adfhbjkdg. :D

(No nonfiction also because I'm a frivolous and unworldly little sprite or something but if you want straight philosophy [which counts] come back and I'll do my Top Ten Epic Platonic Dialogues Compilation for you .)

TLDR: Read any UKLG you get your hands on, Cain by Jose Saramago, or any Saramago (though maybe not Skylight, which is not a good introduction to Saramago), very much enjoyed Sartre's The Age of Reason recently, Shadow & Claw or The Fifth Head of Cerberus by Gene Wolfe. If you feel like it, come off anon and tell me what you like, so I can give more tailored recommendations!!

Now if you're asking for favorites, like just the particular and arbitrary objects of my partiality, that stir my stupid little heart, the true answer is probably UKLG's The Farthest Shore, just because it is very special to me. I can't, of course, in good conscience, recommend the third novel of a six-novel fantasy series to someone (but of course read Le Guin, everyone should be reading Le Guin, it's dire for universal soteriology that we all read Le Guin; You'll probably get told to start with Left Hand of Darkness, and that's pretty solid. I liked The Lathe of Heaven as well. And if you read any Le Guin it doesn't hurt to pick up a copy of the Tao. I love the Tao man.)

Some friendlier recommendations, though:

José Saramago is someone I really consider peerless; There's no way to pick up a Saramago and not know who's written it. Cain is a bit drier, a bit more abrasive (almost accusatory, in that particular way you'll find in a Buddhist parable) and bleak than some other Saramagos, but it's one I like (perhaps for the trite reason that I like bucolic atmospheres and Classical antiquity as a setting) so it's the one I'll put forward.

Uhh, I've also been enjoying Sartre's Roads to Freedom lately, starting with The Age Of Reason. I'm partway through the second novel and umm... despite all the other things you could say about Sartre, lmfao, let it not be said that he is not a serious literary force. Serious is maybe the only word for it. Dire, too. I keep a commonplace book, so usually I take excerpts, but this was the first time in memory that I felt compelled to commit entire pages, ahah (I just took pictures though, fuck copying all that).

If you're itching for esoteric language, Shadow of the Torturer (as usually collected with Claw of the Conciliator in a single omnibus edition titled Shadow & Claw; the first of the give-or-take five volume Urth series) by Gene Wolfe will scratch you BLOODY. If you're particularly fussy, you might be irritated by your compulsion to Google, but I find it really makes the experience when you type in a word and the only results are "what the fuck did Gene Wolfe mean by this?" hahaha; Honestly, though, those kinds of complaints are borne from a lack of immersion, but you'll notice pretty quickly that the verbiage is a pretty crucial vehicle OF the immersion.

It may or may not become a commitment, though, if you like Urth enough to want to read through, so if you want Wolfe without the strings--though less of the exciting vocabulary, which is pretty necessarily constrained to Urth--I'd really highly recommend The Fifth Head of Cerberus (the novella OR the novel, I mean the former is volumized in the latter so just start it and if you feel like stopping then stop, haha). Mr. Terminal E is incredible but I scrape enough time out of my daily life to gush about his crazy literary density so I won't do it again here (you should ask my coworker, lmfao, who one time went "stop, hold on, hold on." because my face started getting really red while I was explaining to him some Wolfean gesture). If you read any Wolfe, and I mean ANY Wolfe, because his permatypes and his manipulations of them are endlessly interesting, feel free to come back and chat with me over it!!!

I guess I have to disclaim that my habit is mostly to pick through an author's corpus over a course of, usually, a couple years, and then sometimes I'll read things that will inform my understanding of the genre conventions or currents that the author is writing in (been enjoying Golden Age sci-fi recently)--it's not really as deliberate of a process as it sounds, but I think if you were to map my habits, that's the landscape of it. This means, though, that my reading is actually pretty narrow in scope, and I am not very well read or very knowledgeable in general (who is, in this economy) but it does mean that of the authors I do like, I can probably find the novel that'll work best for your taste.

If you want to come off anon, or I guess just leave another message, haha, (or if someone else wants to, idgaf, we're all friends here at tumblr user hazeism) describing the things you like or look for in a novel I can probably give you a more relevant recommendation. I've been dosing people up a lot lately tbh, it's like a parlor trick I've been doing; I have a conversation with someone and afterwards they'll have a PDF with a relevant Asimov story in their messages, hahaha. I can't help myself sometimes.

Come back anyway, though, if you read anything I talked about, okay? I want to hear about it 🥺

And alsooo (turning to face the audience) if anyone ever wants to put recs in my inbox (or my dms : ) slow replies though sorry I'm a hermit) I'd be happy to take 'em down. Can't guarantee I'll read them in a timely manner, or that you'll ever find out if/when I do, but it's good for me to leave my comfort zone.

[transgender-catboy]

I love my friends

[lovingk9z]

So many people don't understand how severe mental illnesses and disorders can be; instead of asking questions, people just sit with the assumptions that lead them to treat us poorly.

I get the same with OCD, I have to think way too hard about how I talk about my disorder because hardly anyone understands how awful it actually is.

This is undoubtedly the case for anyone else suffering from an illness or disorder, but it shouldn't have to be.

anxiety is so insane bc ppl will treat it like it's no big deal, like it's "one of the "easy" mental illnesses" or something, and then you have it and it's insanely debilitating and you lose most of your life and your time and energy to it. yesterday i spent 2 hours sitting in my bed trying to convince myself to go to a water fountain to get some water. one time i got so scared to take a bus i passed out. like sure it's a spectrum and i'm definitely at the more severe end of it but the fact that milder cases exist doesn't mean it's not still a problem? and it doesn't mean that those people aren't struggling too