#probably more ruminations to have but i wanted to be general about it

[peterrrei]

I saw you said you were watching g gundam and liking it!! what do you think abt it so far, what is resonating abt it with u? it’s one of my fav shows and means a lot to me so im always excited to see someone else enjoying g fighter. I always feel like despite its silliness there’s a lot more There than ppl give credit for but that’s just my experience

hi!! thank you for this question!!

first of all, i only watched 19 episodes so im almost halfway through it. im really enjoying it! and i love seeing a similar art style to victory gundam ❤️ it gives me major afternoon cartoons on tv vibes… (idk if thats the case for other countries, but italy’s tv has so. much. anime. typical early afternoon of my childhood would consist of dragon ball z - early one piece - sailor moon - and some other 90s anime)

as im getting older i’ve realized more and more just how much seeing media created with passion moves me. id say that ive put my“critical” eye on the background. although of course i can be critical depending on whqt i have in front of me 🤷🏼 but g gundam just hypes me so much! some aspects feel very stupid sometimes (my bf always question “where did the shining gundam pop out from? it was just there waiting to be activated?” WHO CARES LETS GO WITH THE VIBES!!!!) but it has so much goodness. first of all, it’s pretty! not even just the art style, but the direction in general is very well done and interesting and it’s clear that the people who made it are cinema lovers. that i just admire so much!

it’s a good and interesting story that keeps you engaged. im amazed that it is sold as “the au gundam that has a fighting competition with all countries being represented by a gundam made of stereotypes” like… okay. but then it’s just not. that. well i can imagine there might be more focus on the competition later in the story but it went to kinda monster (country?) of the week to a manhunt to a martial arts movie to etc. theres so much variety and it flows SO WELL.

so yeah… i like the characters. cant wait to see more of kyoji (well i have suspicions that he is SXXXXXX… and i love that. i love chibodee and his girlies. i love RAIN and i was so 👀👀👀 during the episode with her ex. i thought master asia was a completely different character before watching the show. i like being surprised and this show makes me feel like a kid :3

[sleepy-steve]

pt 2 of steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.9k // pt 1 ♡

—

november 1984

Eddie checks. Of course he checks. Asks around, eventually to his superiors to make sure he wasn’t going to get in trouble for not collecting Steve. It’s uncommon, they tell him, rare, even. But not unheard of. People die briefly and come back to life. Usually only the one time. The answer should be good enough. Should be. Isn’t though. It frustrates Eddie to no end. Months of wondering and ruminating with the firm belief that he won’t get to see Harrington again anytime soon to ask.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

This time Eddie is on the boat. Leaning over the edge, a hand dangling low to the black water, staring at the same patch of grass he first saw Steve sitting. In fairness, all souls appeared in that general area. But Eddie is fixated on the exact spot Steve had shown off his deep chest wounds. It’s for this reason that Eddie jumps three feet into the air when Steve materialises in the same spot again less than a year later.

Sitting up with a rattling gasp and a look of fury on his bashed-in face—again?! Eddie briefly thinks—Steve yells, “Fucking Hargrove!”

“Christ, Harrington!” Eddie shouts, hand over his chest despite the distinct lack of heartbeat. “Could give a guy a bit of warning.”

Steve looks around, eyes surrounded by more dark bruising taking a second to focus on Eddie, chest heaving as he calms down. “Shit, sorry, man.”

They just look at each other for a few long moments, Eddie standing like a frightened cat on his still wobbling boat. He clears his throat to break the silence. “Who, uh. Who’s Hargrove?”

Scoffing, Steve drags a hand down the side of his face, then winces as it passes over bruising. “Douchebag new guy.” He sighs, settling his forearms on his knees. “His sister is friends with some kids I know. Was coming after them, so I…” Trailing off, Steve gestures to his face.

“What? Offered yourself up as a human punching bag and got yourself killed? Again?” Eddie says, trying not to sound too judgemental.

“Yeah, well,” Steve sighs. “I wasn’t just gonna let him beat up a kid. They’ve been through enough without some dickhead coming in and kicking the shit out of them.”

Eddie feels his brows pull together slightly as he sits back down on the bench of the boat, arms crossed over the edge. It’s not like Harrington was the big bully of Hawkins High, but defender of local kids is… new. “Sounds like a grade-A asshole.”

Steve snorts. “He is.”

“Kids were lucky to have you around as their… babysitter?” Eddie offers, cracking a grin.

Steve rolls his eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Something like that. Probably didn’t need me at all. Stuck around long enough to see her drug him, so they should be fine.”

Humming appreciatively, a thought moves across Eddie’s mind, and he can’t help himself. “…No monsters this time?”

“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but the monsters did actually come back, which is why I was with those little shits in the first place.” He sounds annoyed, but there’s a fond look behind those bruised eyes. One that gives Eddie a little spark in his chest. “But no, this death was just a regular guy.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to snort. “This death. So casual.”

A full grin breaks out on Steve’s face, contrasting heavily with the bruises and the blood under his nose. “Well, when it’s happened this many times, kinda hard not to view it as like. Just this thing that happens, y’know?”

Eddie doesn’t really know. Of everything he’s learnt about death—through his own and through everyone he’s met since—this thing Steve goes through is beyond him. Incomprehensible. He nods anyway.

“How many times have you died, Harrington?”

“Hmm…” Steve looks up as he thinks for a moment. “This would be… five? Or six?” He shrugs. “I’m not sure if it happened when I was a baby.”

He says it so casually, so matter-of-fact, Eddie almost wants to double-take. It sounds so truthful, he struggles to not believe him. Even though Eddie knows he’s not losing much by believing him, a small part of him still has doubts. And worries for his job. “You gonna get in the boat this time?”

Steve snorts. “Not this time, buddy.” Something jolts in Eddie’s chest at the familiarity. “Maybe next time though.”

“Next time,” Eddie mutters under his breath, shaking his head. “You anticipate dying again?”

“Well, no,” Steve chuckles. “But based on how things have been… and apparently I’m not too careful.” He gestures at his bruised up face, eyes bright with humour between the blues and purples and reds.

“The monsters?” Eddie supplies, just teetering on the edge of sarcasm.

“Monsters, douchebag guys, car wrecks… you just never know.”

The casual tone in which Steve talks about his deaths still has Eddie reeling. It’s been well over a year and Eddie is surrounded by death constantly, and he still struggles to think about his own. Tells himself he’d rather not dwell, which is true, but it also hurts. He shakes it off, shifting his focus to the bruised and beaten boy in front of him.

“Or… you could save yourself the trouble, and get in the boat now?” Eddie gestures down at his boat with a little hand flair. He’s joking. Mostly. If Steve did have the chance to go back to the land of the living, Eddie didn’t want to take that away from him. Not that he thought Steve was getting that chance. Not completely, anyway.

“Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” Steve grins at him, like they’re sharing a secret. And they kind of were. Eddie wasn’t sure how many people knew about Steve’s semi-regular dances with death.

“And since when have you ever been one to stick to the rules?” Eddie asks, propping his arm up and resting his chin on his palm. Looking at the boy on the grass. His hair is longer this time.

Steve laughs, head tilted back. “Fair point. But if you want me on that boat, you’re gonna have to come over here and drag me onto it.” He raises a brow at Eddie in challenge.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Wish I could, but I don’t make the rules.” He repeats Steve’s words back at him, mocking him.

“Well, well, well,” Steve says, tone playful. ��Look who’s being a stickler for rules now.”

“I know,” Eddie drags it out, struggling to hold back his smile. “Crazy, huh? Divine punishment for being born the son of a criminal, I guess.” Eddie’s gaze drops down to the black water beneath him.

Steve scoffs at him. “Like you never smoked pot or broke speeding laws in that van of yours.” 

Eyes widening before he can stop them, Eddie’s shocked Steve even knows about the van. Shocked that Steve knows anything about him at all. What world is he in where the king of Hawkins High knows about Eddie and his beat up old van? Even being in the grade below him, Steve had a popularity pull that was noticed by those in Eddie’s grade. Confusion and surprise subsiding, Eddie finds himself leaning forward even further.

“Coming from you?” Eddie challenges back. “We all know about the famous Harrington ragers, Mister Keg King.”

The title makes Steve roll his eyes. “Never saw you at one.”

It was true. Eddie hadn’t attended any of the parties, for fear of his reputation making him a target. He drops his gaze again. “Didn’t think I’d be welcome there.”

Steve doesn’t respond, and the silence grows between them. They haven’t moved, but Eddie feels further away from him. Like the weird little familiarity they’d developed was being forcefully shoved apart. Eddie doesn’t look up to see Steve’s reaction. Doesn’t want the pity.

“So, you really can’t get out of the boat?” Steve breaks the silence with a complete topic change.

“Nope,” Eddie responds, popping the P. “She’s my new baby, now that I don’t have my van.” He pats the side of the boat with his free hand.

Steve shifts forward until he’s sitting as close as he can to the water’s edge without getting wet. Close enough for Eddie to see the broken capillaries under his skin and the little green flecks in his eyes. He takes in the cuts on Steve’s jaw and forehead, the two black eyes, the blood under his nose. The way his knuckles are bruised and bloodied to match. Something in Eddie feels oddly… protective. Like he wants to jump in front of anything that might hurt this guy he doesn’t even really know that well.

“Change your mind about getting in the boat?” Eddie asks, voice low, now that Steve is so close.

“No,” Steve huffs a laugh. “But you can’t move, so I figured I should.”

“Just that desperate to be close to me, are you?” It slips out of Eddie’s mouth before he can think about it. And Eddie wants to punch himself in the face over it.

But to his surprise, Steve doesn’t recoil away or yell at him. Instead, he laughs softly, cheeks faintly pink beneath the bruising. “What can I say? The allure of your… baby…” He says it with a smirk. “Very tempting.”

Taken aback by Steve’s… flirting is the only word to describe it, but that can’t be right, Eddie immediately switches to joke mode. He won’t entertain the idea that Steve Harrington was honest-to-god flirting with him. He won’t.

“I’ll get you into this boat one day, Harrington. Mark my words.” 

He knocks on the edge of the boat twice before smoothing his hand over the wood. Watches as Steve’s eyes follow his hand, seemingly fixated on it. Eddie briefly wonders what would happen if he touched Steve. Would that commit Steve to being stuck here? Commit him to moving on? Would Eddie even be able to feel him?

Gaze shifting back to Eddie’s face, a smile grows on Steve’s face. “Maybe. One day.” He shrugs, like his eventual death is a fun, whimsical topic.

Eddie is about to comment on Steve’s tone, but before he can, Steve’s head whips to the side, hearing something Eddie can’t. Just like last time.

Unlike last time, Steve doesn’t get up right away. “Looks like my time’s up.”

“How do you know?” Eddie is so curious, he can’t help but ask.

“I can hear—” Steve waves vaguely around his ear. “—stuff. From where I am. The kids are yelling. Hope they’re not too freaked out.”

“Guess you better get back then,” Eddie says, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Yep.” Steve pulls himself up into a standing position, now suddenly looking down at Eddie, who leans back on instinct, shifting back on the boat bench. “But I’ll see you next time.”

“I’ll be here.” Eddie gestures at the boat, palm up. Like he has anywhere else to go. “See ya, Harrington. Stay away from monsters.”

“I’ll try,” Steve laughs, walking backwards on the grass. Keeping his eyes on Eddie as he retreats.

“Try not to get that pretty face bashed in again,” Eddie calls after Steve’s already fading form, grinning wide.

Steve just laughs, the sound of it echoing even after his body disappears from Eddie’s sight.

[redeemingvillains]

the black lake - mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo is hogwarts' triwizard tournament champion, and he's proven that he can crush the competition. but when the stakes are raised, and you're involved, nothing will get in his way.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this was was so fun to think about! lots of references to goblet of fire! lots of swearing, matty is not a happy camper in this one. enjoy ♡

Obviously this boy would put his name in the Goblet of Fire (all of the boys did) and there would be a lot of feelings about him being chosen as the Hogwarts champion, lots of accusations about him rigging the selection (he probably did). But he'd definitely crush the competition, especially when he had the right motivation...

ˋ°•*⁀➷

It's the morning of the second task, the day crisp and frosty, creating puffs of air as Mattheo huffed in exertion, marching down to the Black Lake surrounded by his friends. Suffice to say, he was pissed. It was fucking frigid outside and he hadn't seen you all morning, the combination enough to set him dangerously on edge.

You'd told him you'd come spend the night with him, and if nothing else you always ate breakfast together, so when you didn't show up last night and you were nowhere to be found this morning he was furious that you'd blown him off. Now he was spending his entire walk from the castle to the lake ruminating over it, piling on every perceived slight over the last few days, including the way he saw you talking to a group of guys from Durmstrang in the Great Hall yesterday, causing him to involuntarily curl his hands into fists at his side.

His friends walked beside him, surrounding him in a sort of semicircle, but moving in complete silence; they knew better than to try to say anything to him when he was in a mood like this. Before long, Pansy came running to meet them, nearly out of breath as she said, exasperated, "I couldn't fucking find her. She's not anywhere in our dormitory, in the library, I don't know where she's gone." Concern and frustration laced her voice as she looked at the group and then up at Mattheo.

This wasn't like you.

You had been Mattheo's #1 supporter throughout the whole tournament, helping him prepare, cheering him on, jumping into his arms the moment he'd defeated his dragon, and generally always glued to his side. In fact, you were always glued to all of their sides, the group of you being nearly inseparable, so having you missing made all of the boys feel shifty and on edge as they looked at one another.

Fear bloomed in Mattheo's chest. And the feeling of fear when it came to you did not sit well with him. He didn't want to feel afraid, to feel vulnerable when it came to you, so he opted to shove the feeling down, keeping instead with anger which was much easier and more natural to him.

"I don't have time for this" he muttered, quickening his pace as they all scrambled to keep up with him.

The biting wind whipped through his dark curls and stung his cheeks as he stood on the platform above the lake, staring into the middle-distance of the dark and choppy waves. Students and staff alike were cheering and shouting their encouragement for their champions, but he was completely zoned out, his mind bouncing back and forth between your lingering absence and the task ahead of him. He only perked up when Dumbledore's loud voice rang out over the crowd.

"Welcome to the second task!" it radiated.

"Last night something was stolen from each of our champions, a treasure of sorts—"

Mattheo's heart plummeted so fast into his stomach that he subconsciously grasped at his chest. A treasure? There wasn't a thing he owned that he valued enough to call a treasure, not a single thing in his life that held that much weight... except you. You were undeniably his treasure. He looked back into the murky water of the Black Lake... it couldn't be... he thought ... surely they wouldn't... as Dumbledore's voice continued.

"—These four treasures, one for each champion, now lie on the bottom of the Black Lake—" Mattheo's stomach lurched with what little breakfast he'd been able to eat as his eyes shot to Pansy's in the crowd in enough time to see her clasp her hand to her mouth as she pieced the situation together.

"—In order to win, each champion need only find their treasure and return to the surface. Simple enough. Except for this. They will have but one hour to do so and one hour only. After that, they'll be on their own. No magic will save them."

Mattheo's feet were moving before Dumbledore said another word, sprinting towards the water because fuck this stupid tournament, and fuck the geezer for thinking he could take you away from him, that he could put you in danger.

"You may begin at the sound of the cannon."

BOOM!

Mattheo heard the blast as his body hit the water, diving headfirst into the waves without bothering to cast a spell, without a care to what he'd find within the foreboding depths.

The cold shocked his system, but his heart was hammering for plenty of other reasons as he pulled his body through the fierce current, his strong arms and legs working against the waves.

For a minute he was surrounded in dark nothingness. He could feel rather than see that he wasn't alone in the water, occasionally sensing something moving on either side of him, but he didn't have time, you didn't have time for him to care. His lungs started to burn and he pressed his wand to his neck, casting a spell frantically so as not to waste another second.

After swimming at an impossible pace for so long he wondered if there even was a bottom to the lake, he heard an ethereal sound, like singing and changed course to swim towards it, which brought him to a large clearing where he could see merpeople swimming around. The few nearest him whipped their heads toward him, surprised at his presence as they turned to face him fully. He dared them, dared any fucking one of them to come near him, welcomed it actually, a chance to take out his rage, but they steered clear, perhaps sensing it would be a losing battle despite the tritons they carried and their razor-sharp teeth.

He swam on, his muscles straining, aching with the exertion of pulling his weight through the thick water at such an unwavering and desperate pace, but the feeling faded, drained from him, as four distinct figures came into view, four bodies, tethered and floating in the water, their hair moving eerily around their faces, their bodies stiff and still, like corpses.

He identified you immediately and he swam harder and harder until he was close enough to touch you. He brushed a hand against your cheek; your skin held a blueish tint and your face was expressionless, void of the smile that you always had for him, that reached your eyes, that lit up your face, the absence of it was enough to make his eyes sting in a way that had nothing to do with the brackish water.

He grasped your stiff form, the resistance of your body against his continuing to mess with his mind as he sent a spell to sever the rope that secured you and tried not to think about how rigid you felt in his arms.

His ability to breath underwater didn't matter for shit, because he was certain he didn't breath the entire way back, climbing harder and harder as he carried your weight with him, desperate to reach the surface, desperate to save you, thinking the entire time how fucking foolish he'd been to spend even one second mad at you today.

Finally, he could see the light of the surface, the grey clouds in the sky reflecting in the waves, and after a final series of strong kicks he broke through the current.

Immediately, he felt you come alive again in his arms, spluttering and coughing as you grasped for him.

"M-Matty!?" you said hysterically, the cold and fear in your voice setting his heart in a vice as your eyes fluttered open and you looked around in confusion at your surroundings. "What happened?! Where—?!"

"—It's okay, you're okay, you're safe" he said, pulling you against him, keeping you both afloat even as you rocked in the waves and he gasped deeply for air.

"C'mere, c'mon" he said, swimming with you in his embrace towards the platform, anxious to get you out of the freezing water.

The crowd had erupted into cheers when you'd breached the surface, and they were announcing that Mattheo was the champion by a long shot, not having been in the water for more than 20 minutes, the other champions still completely unaccounted for. But hearing talk of the competition and seeing everyone's ignorance about the whole situation as they clapped and smiled was pushing him to his limit as he hoisted you up to Pansy who greeted you with a thick towel.

Mattheo pulled himself out of the water, barely taking time to wrap a towel around his shoulders before grabbing three more and pulling them around you. You laughed under the heavy bundle, even as your shivering continued uncontrollably. "I-I'm okay, I-I'm okay" you said, trying to reassure him, even as you noticed that he wouldn't meet your eyes.

"Buncha fucking idiots" you heard him muttering as he rubbed your arms before he stooped down and swept you off your feet bridal style, one hand around your waist, the other holding on to your legs. The crowd cheered again, erupting in a sigh of "awws" at the gesture until he began barreling towards them.

"Matty?" you asked, concerned, "Where are we—?"

"—Anywhere but here" he growled as people began pushing each other to get out of his way.

"Mr. Riddle!" McGonagall chided, chasing after you both as you watched her from over his shoulder, urging him to stop as a couple of other professors followed in pursuit.

He veered towards the raised platform where the headmasters were seated, coming to a brief stop in from of Dumbledore who had stood to his feet.

"You are out of your fucking mind!" Mattheo spat at him.

Several people around you gasped, even Igor Karkaroff had the wherewithal to look surprised, impressed even, before Mattheo walked away, marching right off the platform and back towards the school as the entire crowd watched you go.

You could tell Mattheo was tired, beyond tired, physically, emotionally; you could feel his arms shaking against your weight.

"Matty, I can walk, it's okay" you said quietly, but he wouldn't let you go, wouldn't set you down, wouldn't even respond to you or meet your eyes. So you resigned yourself to resting your head on his shoulder, nuzzling against his neck which seemed to relax him a bit.

He carried you all the way to his room, making his way to the bathroom where he finally set you down and immediately began running you a hot bath. Wordlessly, he found a towel and a set of his clothes for you to wear, placing them at the edge of the tub before leaving without a word, closing the door gently behind him.

You looked anxiously at the closed door, aware that something was very very wrong, but also acknowledging that he might need a minute, and that you still couldn't feel the tips of your fingers or toes, so you resigned yourself to the hot water.

It felt heavenly, as did washing the muck of the lake off your skin and out of your hair. You reveled in the smell of his soap, like cedar and evergreen, but you were too anxious to sit there any longer than necessary, quickly pulling on his sweatpants and sweatshirt that engulfed your frame as you toweled your hair dry and pushed the door open.

Mattheo was seated at the edge of his bed, still dripping wet, his body shaking noticeably as he stared at the ground. He glanced up when he heard you, visibly relaxing a bit as he took in your warm, rosy cheeks and your soft smile, his mind flashing for only a moment to your unsmiling rigid form floating in the water, trying to reconcile that version of you with the one in front of him.

You approached him slowly, moving to stand between his legs as you took his face in your warm hands, tilting it to look at you. He had a strained, puzzled expression on his face as his eyes drank you in before his hands came to rest on your waist.

"Babe—" you started.

"—I love you" he said.

Your heart somersaulted over the words you'd never heard him say before as you let out a small breath, your hand moving to cover your mouth in shock as your eyes widened.

"I'm-I'm a fucking wreck for you" he continued, laughing humorlessly as he shook his head. "Today... really fucked me up. I thought I'd lost you, I thought..." he paused, getting quiet "...The way you looked down there, alone, miles under the water, surrounded by all sorts of shit" he shook his head harder like he could unlive the memory of it all.

"I should have told you sooner, because I've known for awhile, for a long fucking time, but I've been too scared to say it, too scared that you don't remotely feel the same way, but that doesn't matter anymore, nothing fucking matters other than you hearing me say it, today, every day, I love you, YN." His eyes met yours finally, wide and sincere. "With everything I've got, I love you."

"I love you too!—" you whispered, and the words were barely out of your mouth before he pressed his cold lips to yours, pulling you into him so tightly you let out an involuntary squeak as your arms moved to wrap around his neck and he fell backwards onto his bed, continuing to mumble against your lips "Iloveyou, loveyou, I loveyou", smushing your kisses with his affectionate words until you were laughing with joy, the sound finally reassuring him that you were his, and that you were okay.

♡

@kenjikishimotoswifey, @mattiesgf, @sleepiibunniiii, @darlingshecried, @girlblogging777, @foivetimesacharm, @clar2aa, @broadwaybaby123, @slytherinscreamqueen

[pallastrology]

observations on pisces

artwork by georg janny

saturn in pisces ('tis the season...) suffers greatly with feelings of guilt. something else they can struggle with is fear. the fear is often existential, and the natives experience it from a young age. they will often 'ritualise' their fears, creating structures that help them feel safe and protected, but in doing so, these structures can actually intermingle with their sense of guilt and lead to them feeling responsible for things no person is. they really do have the weight of the world on their shoulders sometimes.

pisces suns are often labeled as easily influenced, and while this isn't entirely untrue, i think it's a bit oversimplified. pisces is receptive and sensitive, taking in a lot from their environment and reading between the lines easily. they are a mutable sign, and so aren't naturally stubborn people. but when well-developed, sun in pisces is a very self-aware placement and that reflective, open nature helps them to actually become quite sure about their beliefs and values. so i suppose, an undeveloped pisces sun will be easily influenced, but maybe not a pisces sun in general.

with pisces in the seventh house, the stereotype is that the native is the type to dream about a prince charming figure who'll sweep them off their feet. in reality, this placement is more likely to not really know what they want from a relationship, to struggle with healthy boundaries, and to feel they have to save - or be saved by - their partner. it takes time and steady reflection to understand where these difficulties come from and how to heal their relationship with love.

mars in pisces tends to really struggle with conflict. they turn it over and over, ruminating endlessly. should i have said this? done that? did i go too far? pisces almost always struggles with boundaries and emotional conflict, but with mars here there's so much energy directed to working on these issues, it can feel like an impassable bridge to the native. as much as they struggle however, they are also fiercely caring, sensitive and surprisingly brave individuals, who can push themselves hard when they are connected to something important.

pisces moons will often disappear when things overwhelm them. they can get a reputation for being a bad friend because of this, despite their caring nature. while they can easily fall into despair over the issue, it doesn't need to be permanent; a big learning curve for these natives is learning to both not induce this crushing overwhelm and urge to vanish, and to better manage their emotions and health when things pop up unexpectedly. embracing their sister sign, virgo, can be a way forward here.

mercury in pisces, when writing or otherwise creating, is very sensitive to the feeling of their medium. so with words, for example, the word has to evoke the right feeling before it's considered to be the right word for the native to use. they are actually pretty perfectionistic in this sense, though their creations can seem to lack a strong, distinctive style; they are mutable after all, and this quality shines through in their work, as they flit through various influences and inspirations.

pisces ascendants get a reputation for being sweet and shy. while they are on the shy side, they are highly receptive and read deeply into what's going on around them, absorbing the atmosphere like a sponge does water. it's a placement that's often infantilised, probably because neptunian placements in general are easily misunderstood. but pisces risings are not so much innocent little faery children; they're a little reclusive, highly attuned to those around them, and easily confused by their own emotions and reactions.

venus in pisces is selfless to a fault, but there's an interesting process going on beneath the native's awareness. they often have a romanticised view of selflessness as a concept, and idealise being nice and giving. so while they are genuinely kind, caring and self-sacrificing people, they do gain something, unconsciously, from giving themselves to others; it bolsters their sense of self and lifts their often low view of themselves. which is part of why it can be so hard for them to set healthy boundaries and stop giving everything to everyone.

[turretistrying]

I watched a playthrough of mouthwashing and wanted to write something, sorry if it's trash

warnings; Mentions of blood, death, etc. Canon events through the lens of the reader. jimmy. Mentions of Anya's situation, Unwanted touching

Summary; You are the effectively the homebrewed therapist of the Tulpar, you are the safe space of the ship. You experience the events of the game

On the Tulpar crew, you were considered a jack-of-all trades. You helped in any area the ship needed help in, but if your being totally honest thats not what your job entails to you.

Your job is being a safe space. Almost everyone on the ship has some type of issues during the night or problems they can only ruminate on when everyone else is asleep, and so you have decide to help on that front. Your room is the best on the ship, while it's walls and floors are the same as everyone elses room, your bed in the real star of the show. You've long since replaced the standard-issued Pony Express mattress with something softer from Earth, while some of the inspectors of the ship tried to make a stink about it you generally ignored them about it. Anothing thing about your bed is the blankets and pillows, so many of them on one twin sized bed. Originally you only had 3 blankets and 2 pillows when you started to make the bed more comfortable, but as some of the crew came in to sleep you started bringing more each time. Same thing with the pillows.

A year or two ago you started to comfort and therapize members of the crew the best you could but eventually that turned into them coming to your bed. Nothing ever happened mind you, just lying on the same bed, sometimes cuddling if the mental situation is bad enough. Anya, Daisuke, and Curly were the main crew members you helped, Swansea didn't feel comfortable being in your room so you mainly talked to him at 'night'.

The only person you were wary about was Jimmy.

Ever since you met him, he's become increasing strange to you. Something has felt off. But.. because you pride yourself on not judging anyone on the ship, you allowed him in your room for comfort. Even though it made you feel like your skin was going to be peeled off, like static was injected into your veins. It made your comforting and safe space feel decidedly not safe anymore for you. Any time he spent time within your room it made every single alarm in your head go off, making you wish you could lock the door only to keep HIM out. Especially when he decides he 'needs' cuddles, him touching you and nuzzling into your body makes you sick, it makes you feel like he's violating you. Sometimes he tries to get in when you're already helping someone else out and you revel in the fact you're able to reject him and KEEP HIM OUT. On the times he tries to get in and you're with Anya, you notice how she tenses up at his voice. She almost starts shivering (from fear? from terror? what did he do to her?) no matter how many blankets are piled onto her pale body.

She's the person who comes to you the most often and you have a feeling you know why. Even though she doesn't say anything, you're fairly sure Jimmy has hurt her in some fashiom, just from how her demeanor changes as soon as he enters a room and talks to her. She shrinks in on herself. (what did he dO TO HER?!)

Curly is almost as frequent as Anya but you can tell he probably shouldn't visit you. He's The Captain after all, he shouldn't need help and should feel the way he does. You feel bad for him most times, and while he may be friends with the monsterJimmy, him being in your room doesn't make you uncomfortable. He confides in you about his troubles and how he doesn't know what to do next, he doesn't want to be what he is forever. You understand him, maybe not at the level he feels it but you get it. You don't want to be stuck as a space therapist the rest of your life, you want to be a notable creative, or something. You're still working that dream out.

~~

It's a few months into the shipment, and Curly just dropped the news that Pony Express was going under and while all 5 of your were going to be let go from the company with no additional help, Curly would be able to get opportunities. You don't resent him honestly, knowing what he's thinking about after most days, you're just. contemplative. While yes job hunting is going to be a bit of bitch, you have savings and a good fall back if all else fails. You also understand the feelings of everyone else, their sadness, anger, confusion.

While you're cleaning a hallway waiting for someone to need you for something else you see Jimmy rush past you. He seems... startled and angry, from what you tell of a brief glance at his side profile. You shrug and go back to cleaning, you don't care about Jimmy anymore frankly. Curly comes up behind you and asks about him and you point him towards the cockpit. He leaves and you once again get back to work... Until the ship starts shaking and you hear yelling from down the hall. Before you can really process anything the whole ship jerks and you're thrown to the floor.

~~

The ship crashed. Foam covers all areas of the ship, your room was one of the lucky few that was spared from the crash. Other's weren't so lucky.

Curly is covered head to.. knee in bandages, only one eye still intact. You don't quite like going into the medical room anymore. It smells of burning and rotting flesh, mixed with the chalky smell of painkillers. But you visit at night and simply sit there with Curly, offering him a blanket. He never wants it, you assume it's because of how his 'skin' is still exposed even with the bandages and it could cause worse pain if it got stuck to it. Some nights he tries to talk, others he doesn't.

Daisuke and Anya are now the most frequent visitors of your room. They both cry, Anya more so. You don't know what to do now, you're almost.. numb to it all. Jimmy still comes by but you're grateful for Daisuke and Anya needing you, it keeps him away. But on nights no one comes by, HE does. Somehow it's gotten worse, he cuddles far too close for your liking and mumbles things into your collarbones you can't make them out but his mouth on your skin makes you want to cry. It makes everything so. much. worse.

~~

It's been months since the ship crashed and you don't leave your room anymore. You just. Can't. Everything is too much and not enough. You hope you die in your sleep.

~~

You hear commotion outside, it sounds like Daisuke and Jimmy. You slowly peel yourself off the bed, and take off the 6 blankets. Uncovered feet touch the metal flooring, you don't flinch. You stand up on shaky legs and make your way to the hallway. They're running towards Utility so you make your way over to the living room, to see whats happened since you stashed yourself away. The tv is shattered and it seems like everyone made their beds out here, mouthwash litters the floor. You turn to medical and hope to see Anya.

....

The door is locked. You give a soft knock.

"Anya..? are you-" you quickly cough, not used to talking anymore "are you okay?"

You receive silence.

"... Yeah, I'm sorry that was a stupid question. You're not okay, you haven't been for months, especially with... him here and yelling at you nearly every day." You rest your forehead on the door,

Silence.

"I'm sorry Anya."

~~

Daisuke is dead. Jimmy tried getting him into the damaged vent and it impalied the poor kid. You almost cry, you know so much about him, his hopes and dreams. But you decide to stay quiet and observe, Jimmy isn't aware you've finally left your room. Swansea looks downright murderous, after mercy killing Daisuke by cutting right into his head with the fire axe, he stares at Jimmy in a way you once wished you could. If looks could kill.

Swansea gets up and chases after him.

You hope he gets the monster.

~~

Swansea is dead too. Jimmy somehow got a gun and killed him. You watch from the shadows as he sets up the dead bodies of people you knew so, so well. A mockery of a party you were so excited for so long ago.

He brings out Curly and sets him on the table, he grabs the knife and cuts into Curly's thigh as if it's cake. You want to vomit. You want to cry. You want to do so many things but. You simple stand there.

You want to kill Jimmy. He's killed your friends, so you want to avenge them. None of them deserved this, none of them.

You go look for that axe.

~~

You found it in utility, it has weight but you can carry it well enough to take the swing at the man that's made this into hell itself. You hear footsteps coming towards the room so you make your way behind some foam. You wait.

And wait.

and wait.

You take action and run right towards Jimmy as he's about to kill himself.

He deserves pain, he doesn't deserve the easy way out.

You swing right into his arm holding the gun and it comes clean off.

Blood comes out from it in waves.

He needs to take responsibility.

You swing once more at his other arm, another clean cut.

needs to take responsibility.

Another swing.

tAKE RESPONSIBILITY.

One last swing.

RESPONSIBILITY.

he's not dead, but he looks just. like. curly.

you pick him up, his blood gushing onto you and place him in another cyropod.

he was have to face his actions, whenever that may be.

whenever someone finds him and curly.

~~

you walk to your room, one last time.

blood trailing behind you as you slowly walk.

your time is up and you'll get to end it the way you wanted to.

in bed.

you pull all your blankets onto yourself and close your eyes,

one.

last.

time.

[girlcowboy1]

I think gen z ultimately lost the war against mental illness when they decided to adapt the older generations rhetoric of "mentally ill ppl who have noticeable symptoms are bad and evil and must be avoided at all costs, they deserve to be alone and die alone" which... most people are not saying that outright, but that IS what they're saying, whether they realize it or not, when they choose to discuss these issues based on personal concepts of morality and punishment instead of approaching it with a mix of empathy and an understanding of science, and how the brain operates.

"Having a mental illness isn't an excuse" is true to a certain extent, but I think a lot of people don't understand that to an extent, it also IS an excuse. The only reason people like to believe that it isn't in any capacity is because mental illness is an invisible disability, and if there's one thing that people love to dismiss the impact of, it's invisible disabilities. Because we can't see what's going on beneath the surface, we struggle to understand the issue, we struggle to empathize with the affected person, whom we may prefer to instead write off as being lazy or malicious, when in reality they are in pain and/or are missing an important tool that helps them function the way they'd like to.

Before getting on medication, I felt and (still sometimes feel) as though I existed behind an invisible glass that separated me from everyone else. I could not understand the point of a lot of mundane things, I couldn't relate to those around me, I felt like my existence was a mistake that should have never happened and the universe was attempting to expunge me by making my life so hard I would kill myself.

And then I got on medication, and suddenly I was able to see things that I had never seen before but had existed in front of me the whole time. I was able to be kinder to people, to be more patient, to talk myself out of bad thoughts I would previously ruminate about for days and weeks. I was able to communicate more coherently, to express my feelings in a way I couldn't before. I wanted to do things again. I wanted to dress up, look nice. I wanted to BE nice.

Of course, these are all still things I struggle with. Like with most tools for disability, medication is helpful in giving me the ability to function in a way that makes life more enjoyable— but it doesn't completely cure the issue. The point is. I tried so hard, time and time again, to change on my own. I tried taking supplements, I tried mindfulness, I tried changing the way I eat, I tried self-help videos/books. But I was a deeply depressed, deeply agitated person whose brain was not wired the way it should have been. So none of what I tried would stick. I would act out in ways I KNEW was wrong, but when you get into a certain state of mind, it's difficult to speak to yourself, to talk yourself down from doing or saying things you know you probably shouldn't. Especially when you feel so isolated from others, and struggle to see the point in anything.

It was only after medication that I made long-term improvements. It was only after my brain chemistry was physically altered in a positive way that my brain could begin to function better, and that my outward behavior improved.

How the anatomy of the brain effects a person is a crucial part of mental health that gets left out of relating discussions too often, I think, and its where I believe gen z unfortunately tends to overlap with gen x and boomers. The brain is an organ like any other, and if it is damaged, or sick, or lacking somewhere in its anatomy.... it will not function properly. The person whose body it inhabits will not function properly.

[hoofpeet]

Hello!! Kind of random LMAO but im a zooarchaeologist (archaeologist who studies animals in the archaeological record) who wants to study sheep and goats!! Also cows and deer, but I know you're big on the former; do you have any resources (books, articles, blogs, websites, etc) youd recommend reading to get more informed? Sorry this is such a bizzare ask, but figure id ask you! Also as an artist, i adore your art sm <3.

Ouuhhh I mean honestly. Despite being autistic about bovines I am definitely still kinda dumb about them (-also adding that my specific area of interest is closer to like. Animal husbandry/history) So ngl doing ANY reading at an academic level means you probably already know more than I do but uhm. If it's an interesting read anyway here's misc stuff I've had bookmarked in the ruminant folder for a while in no particular order:

"Microstructure and mechanical properties of different keratinous horns"

Judas goats

Good list of different types of sheep

Different good list

List of goat breeds from the same site

Video about the history of sheep domestication (from a podcast series on sheep!)

"Churro Wool: How the Spanish Brought Sheep to the Americas"

Livestockconservancy.org - Good resource for endangered + heritage breeds

"Sheep and wheat domestication in Southwest Asia"

On ruminant evolution in general

"Evolution of ruminant headgear"

Hoof anatomy/maintenance

[pix-writes]

So, I'm going to answer these two requests in the same post, because I feel if I did them seperately I'd probably end up repeating myself. Hope that's okay! (NSFW will be at the end of the post under a banner, so 18+ below!)

I think both the stan twins have a complicated relationship to the idea of being parents, whilst they are fond of their memories together as kids, they otherwise had an awful upbringing, whilst stan got kicked out as a teen, I don't think Ford would have had the greatest time either in still being in contact with his family, in fact I have a lot of theories that he more or less cut off contact with them by a certain point in his early adult life when conducting his research in the Falls.

I think their expeirences with how their parents got together and how Filbrick treated his sons as either means to an end or dead weight in his life, meant that they were never keen to start a family early on in their lives and 'settle down', stan more out of circumstances/ wanting to travel the world, and Ford out of wanting to focus on his career/ acheiving greatly in the fields he wished to pursue. However, they were raised around the 60's and would have faced at least some societal pressures and influence (even from their parents) that at some point they had to find a girl to marry and have children with. Whilst neither of the twins really exhibit a desire to fit into the norms of society, I think they definitely considered and probably even fantasised about their future as a parent, regardless if they truly wanted that future or not.

Ford I think would have the narrative of "Of course, once I've done x and researched x, then hopefully I'll find a woman that actually wants to talk to me and then maybe we'll get married and settle down once I'm x age..." and then, satisfied with his internal answer to those societal pressures get's on with his studies. I'm sure Ford has thought about it a lot and ruminated anxiously over the fact that he can't seem to connect with anyone on a deeper level, I mean its practically part of what drives him to study the abnormal in the first place! He's fantasised about meeting someone, who like him is strange and unusual in some way and as driven to seek out intellectual, academic pursuits. He thinks maybe they could focus on their careers together and settle down once you both get to a certain age. You may be 'older' parents by his parent's/generation's standards, but he's never really cared for that and it makes sense for him to focus on his career first and foremost, anyway. He's not putting anything off, not at all!

They both love their family still and love the twins deeply with all of that said, though! Ford in seeing them realises all that he has missed from his time in the portal, even though he feels its silly after all this time to regret the past, it does make him wonder the 'what ifs?' - if he had been more in the twins' lives up to this point, or if things had gone differently, would he have even learnt the lessons he needed to; or would he have been as absorbed into his career as he had been and not had them in his life?

Ford loves being around the twins, they're the most loveable pair of kids AND they're his family <3 Once he's starting to get over all that has happened he starts to really enjoy their precocious natures - it gives him a glimpse of what may have been, however small, into what it would be like to have children. I think he does think it over and considers if it would've made him happy. After all, he isn't his father, maybe he would've been better at raising them than his father had been with them...

So for the sake of one of these requests, let's say that he does want to be a father! HCs for dad!Ford and pregnant S/O:

Ford is going to put his all into reasearching potentially EVERYTHING there is to know about pregnancy, concieving (if you're purposefully putting effort into having kids, that is) and child rearing as he can before you do get pregnant/concieve. It's what he does best and he'll even be trying to research what the best parenting methods are and calculate the possibilities of what can go wrong for the baby, you, etc etc. I mean you can't go into anything unless you're 100% certain you're willing & ready to undergo any of the potential outcomes, right?

He has the best intentions, but if you really don't want to know all the freaky/dangerous outcomes that could happen to you and the future baby/babies, then you might need to have a firm conversation with him. Might have to also remind him that you need to be a team in this, parenting is one of the things with endless amounts of advice and not all of them are going to work or be ones you want to make, part of being a parent is finding out/knowing your style and not overthinking it (or at least trying to).

Will certainly do his own 'check-ups' on you in addition to you going for your regular doctors/hospital ones. Enrolls you both in a class for new parents, but ends up criticising it and is convinced that you can learn everything you need to know at home anyway (finally he sees the value of the internet!)

The fact that he is a lighter sleeper is both a blessing and a curse, he won't mind waking up for the baby any time day or night but when you're in the last trimester and you're uncomfortable he's likely not getting much sleep either! Will be incredibly attentive in trying to solve it though, and that goes for the rest of your pregnancy too! He's there to put oil over stretch marks, set out your vitamins, help you get the most comfortable positions, fetch whatever food you're craving and so on.

Never got to be at the twins' birth and so is absoluely not going to miss the birth of his children for anything! He does fear about things going wrong, though, doesn't think so at first but does have a few nightmares about it. Is anxious about your pregnancy being high risk, since multiples clarly run in his family and being an older parent. Wonders if the baby will have any 'abnormalities' like his polydactly and whilst he will accept his child 1 million percent, he is already worrying over how they will be recieved by others.

In labour, he's definitely in tune with you, he's not one of those lazy, unconcerned husbands that you see annoying/ignoring their pregnant wives in hospital. Is incredibly good at rolling with the punches in an emergency situation. Absolutely sobs when he gets to hold them for the first time. Eventually manages to relieve hold of them when Stan comes over after the birth by convincing him that you need him for something so he can get to hold is nibling, haha.

Loves to smooth his hands over your belly, is excited to feel the baby move and talks to them <3 Definitely the dad who plays them classical music as well!

I think that his S/O being pregnant he just gains a different, deeper appreciation for you! The fact that you're bringing life into the world is incredible and he's there when its wonderful and when its difficult, he knows it's not all rainbows and sunshine and will often tell you that if he could find a way to alleivate your pains or carry the baby himself he would!

Is very protective of you when you're pregnant, more so than he normally is in public. Hates when people cross boundaries and make you uncomfortable, gets especially mad at strangers wanting to touch you and will not let that happen if he's with you.

Ford as a dad would be amazing, he's not perfect by any means, but whatever his children are curious about he has a ready answer! Is actually good at getting to the root of the loop of 'why' questions into what they really want to know/do. You can often see him with his kids, looking up at him like he hung the stars because he has an answer for almost anything they can think of.

Whilst he has to very carefully shut away his lab and make sure it's under tighter security for the kids when they're younger, he now gets to do all sorts of nerdy things with them. Even runs his own smaller, simpler version of D&D&MD for them, ends up becoming a family tradition to have a 'games night' because of this.

Schooling is something he takes very seriously, and he can be a firm parent when he needs to, though debates on whether they should be homeschooled or not and for how long - whatever you settle on, he's going to make sure his kids have all the help they need with homework and will encourage them to take any extra curricular activities/hobbies they may want to do. Your kid shows an interest in music? He'd be showing them all the different instruments that they could maybe play! They want to join a sport, he'll be at every game!

Ford will be there to celebrate their acheivements in life, whatever they may do, I think he'd be a very supportive dad after the events of the show especially. And he'll be incredibly protective of them of course, no one is going to hurt them and get away with it lightly!

Not to mention these kids will have the most fun-loving chaotic uncle in the world! Ready to regale them with tales of all the adventures he and their dad have gone on ("please make it more G-rated, Stanley"), and when they're older cover for them when they want to do more rebellious things - Stan is going to make sure they get back home safe!

Now for the NSFW:

I think like I said, Ford generally isn't much into the idea of having kids --> but that doesn't mean you can't have a breeding kink!

The element of this kink that is so appealing to him is the 'claiming', the need to mark you in some way. He finds it hot to think about you being filled with his cum.

In the back of his mind he has a little voice that says he should feel some sort of shame for the dark, possessive nature of his thoughts around this kink, for wanting you to be 'mine' (his). Its almost like a ritual to him, to combine his cum with yours, to fill you; you are his and he is yours. He's not really religious, but I think in an intimate relationship he feels like he wants to be as close to you as possible, your his to worship and his to protect and keep safe and to pleasure. If he could find a way to meld souls and minds with you he'd be tempted to do it (but on the other side of things, especially ford post-bill betrayal, I think he's too independent to really do that haha).

It's practically filthy the amount of times he's imagined you pressed into the 'mating press' position, legs hiked up onto his shoulders.

When he finishes, wants you to hold his cum in, presses it back in with his fingers or gets you to raise your hips, legs crossed.

Surely thinks about the possibility of you getting pregnant from it. It sometimes creeps into his mind when he sees you interacting with the twins or other kids/babies. It makes him feel feral. Likes to think about what it would be like to see you pregnant, even if he doesn't actually want kids.

[evillemons]

hiii who do you think is most likely to enjoy / engage / initiate make up sex after an argument? in my head i see some members getting in such a bad mood that they wouldn’t even want to touch their partner, but not so much for others. would love to know what u think✨

Oooo what a sexy prompt! I had a pretty immediate idea of which members would be on the top and bottom of the list. I'm curious if you have opposing thoughts though, I'd love to hear them! (also these pictures are SO big I'm sorry)

Which BTS members would be most likely to initiate makeup sex

*NSFW content*

1. V

KING of makeup sex. In fact, arguments turn him on so much that he would purposefully push his girlfriend's buttons so that he could "make it up to her" immediately afterwards. It would be passionate, aggressive, angry, hot and heavy, but Tae is a little bit of a masochist in bed so that's exactly how he likes it. He would probably get hard in the middle of her yelling at him and then push her against the wall to kiss her mid-sentence.

2. Jin

Surprisingly high on the list, I imagine Jin wanting to initiate makeup sex after arguing with his girlfriend as a form of an apology. Unlike Tae though, he hates relationship conflict and seeing her get upset or angry, so sex would be a way of showing her that he loves and cares for her, despite whatever they were arguing about. It would probably happen a few hours later or the next day rather than immediately proceeding the argument, and it would be gentle, giving, and affectionate.

3. Jungkook

Kind of a hybrid of Tae and Jin - he loves the passion and aggression of makeup sex, but he would also feel so bad for hurting her feelings that he would feel the need to earn her forgiveness. He would be SO good at, too, desperately trying to please her and give her what she wants. However, if it's a really bad argument over a major issue, he would rather distance himself for a few days to mull over his thoughts instead.

4. Jimin

Makeup sex with Jimin would be more romantic and emotional rather than hot and sexy. It would have to be completely mutual though, if one person initiates while the other is even a tiny bit hesitant, it would feel awkward and ingenuine. And it's not that Jimin isn't capable of more aggressive sex, but I think he would prefer the feeling of being emotionally close to his girlfriend again after an argument.

5. j-hope

It's not that Hobi wouldn't enjoy engaging in makeup sex, but he probably wouldn't be the one to initiate it. He's extremely mature in relationships, and I think he would rather talk everything through thoroughly and make sure he is in a healthy headspace first. I don't think he would turn it down if it's what his girlfriend need to feel better and closer to him again, though.

6. RM

Despite being the horny boy Joon is, sex is a mental and emotional act for him, so it's unlikely that he would be interested in being intimate after an argument. In fact, he would probably need to spend a week ruminating alone before he's ready to make up with his girlfriend. If it's a silly argument and he's already in the mood, there might be a rare occasion where he engages in it for the experience.

7. SUGA

Absolutely not. Although Yoongi is generally nonchalant when it comes to sex (as in he'll give it to his partner whenever they want), he would find it inappropriate if his girlfriend tried to jump on him following an argument, much less initiate it. Like Joon, there is a mental component to sex for him, and he would rather reflect alone and solve the issue before he's able to get close with her again.

[drdemonprince]

I was talking to some relatives about our comparative sensitivities to substances. As a young person, I had the classic Autistic hyper-sensitivity to drugs. Two beers could knock me out. Anything past that was disgusting to me; at Ohio State I was constantly hiding half-drunk solo cups of Natty Light on bookshelves and in basements because I couldn't keep up with anyone else. I had no taste for weed or anything harder because I hated how tired it made me feel. At the same time, I always remained lucid on substances. I was always the person who could snap into practical, problem-solving thinking and put on a sober face if a member of my party got in trouble for pissing in the street or started fighting or ran afoul of the cops.

growing up, my friends were always trying to get fucked up so they could escape their brains and their realities, and then falling into huge problems because they'd done so. they'd get drunk and piss themselves. drive drunk home. fall in love with some dude on cocaine ten years older than them and then have to bust open a garage window with their fist when he was freaking out threatening himself. they'd blow out their caffeine receptors on weird drug store cold medicine and not be able to drink coffee for years. they'd drag themselves hung over to work or have to run a 5k still stoned. i didnt understand why they'd be so irrational. i was always the person sitting on the floor, a little tired but fine, watching them wrestle eachother drunkenly or cry when they'd started taking whatever drug it was to make themselves feel good. i didn't understand why someone would choose to weaken themselves and make themselves feel even worse. but nothing ever really felt good to me. i was just a flat line.

My sensitivity has changed thanks to testosterone, specifically because of muscle growth. I can throw back a number of drinks that startles me now, and feel almost nothing. A few months back a friend was being very generous with the boozy slushies at Sidetrack and the shots. I don't know how many I had. But more than I'd had to drink in many, many years at least. Which is probably still a small-seeming number to the real professionals, maybe something like 6 or 7 drinks total. But I felt completely fine, nothing past a little silly. I ate a taco on the curb, sipped some water, and then I was fine.

My sister is barely feels substances at all. She can't tell when pain medications work. In college, during a spat with a sorority "little" of hers who began to stalk her, she spent every afternoon at the bar downing shots from a shot-club list in exchange for a t-shirt, and it didn't affect her. She hates food and eats very little because of probably ARFID, but she will drink just about anything, and can do so in abundance if she wants to. But she rarely wants to, because it doesn't make her feel any more fucked up than a couple of cocktails. She smoked weed and took edibles sporadically for years without them ever kicking in or doing anything to her.

I am reminded of that story I read about the guy with really high social anxiety whom the CIA gave like ten tabs of acid, as part of some fucked up experiment, and he remained completely lucid, polite, present, and normal-seeming the entire time. Because he was just such a fucking tight-assed neurotic person that he couldn't let go of his iron-tight grip on reality. After his 12th acid tab, he got a little bit sleepy and went off to bed, or something like that. (If someone remembers this story and can find a link, send it to me!).

I don't know that I'd be the same, I've never tried, acid, but I imagine that it would play out something like that. I'd clench my firsts tight onto reality and keep masking as normal until I reached the absolute fucking brink of my ability to cope, and then I wouldn't enjoy the high, i'd just be so fucked up that I needed to go lie down. Mushrooms didn't affect me much, either.

I can't seem to escape my constant neurotic rumination and compulsive need to attend to the reactions of others and modulate myself. I wish I could let loose, but then again, when a person says they want one thing and they behave in a completely different way, trust the behavior. Clearly I don't want to lose control. I'm obsessed with maintaining my perspective. The one time I got properly zooted high at Nowadays in New York I nearly lost my phone, and I don't want to risk anything like that again. Anxiety is such a protective thing. we evolved to survive not to be happy. and all told i'm pretty good at keeping shit together, looking after myself, looking after others, and not fucking things up. my anxiety and rigidity has spared my ass a whole lot of problems, saved me a lot of money, helped my career, helped me escape arrest. i wish i could relax once in a fucking while but also i dont. im in love with what a tight ass sharp edged tense little bitch i can be. i dont know who the alternative version of me even would be. if i were to let properly loose and get sloppy it would feel like some abdication of duty, because I know that I *can* keep it together no matter what, and it seems so many people can't.

[hauntingcryptids]

Tell Me That I Belong To You

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary - The Reader is having a bad day. So, with the convincing of The TARDIS, The Reader seeks comfort in The Master.

Based On This Request - *This was originally based on a request but the more I continued to write and edit it, the more the fic drifted away from the prompt. So, I am just going to let this be its own fic and write another fic more closely aligned to the prompt.

Warnings - Reader not feeling well, insecurity on the part of the reader, canon typical telepathy. (let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count - 1864

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. I have a smut version of this fic if anyone would like to read it, but I don’t want to post it if people would just prefer the fluff version. I also don’t know how good this is, but I just wanted to get something out there after feeling awful mentally for a while. So, I hope that you enjoy this :)!

--------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up with a headache. The type of headache that no matter how much water you drank, food you ate, or sun(TARDIS created sun) you layed in would cure your malady. Headaches, in general, but especially ones as bad as the one you were experiencing, always made your whole day awful. Oftentimes, the pain in your head would cause you to spiral internally until your mental health was utterly destroyed. That’s where you were now, arguing to yourself in your head about you and your “Humanness” and how you weren’t good enough for The Master. How could you possibly be good enough for The Master? Even if you weren’t Human, why would he want to be with someone like you?

The TARDIS beeped determinedly. You were becoming better at understanding The TARDIS given how much time you had spent within the ship but still you could only understand part of what she was telling you. The bits you could discern were: “The Master loves you”, “you are good enough”, “you have always been enough”, and “The Master would never think such horrible things about you. Ever!”

Eventually, you stopped The TARDIS’s rant about how great you were and that she wished that she could help improve your self-image. You thanked her for everything she said. Even though didn’t understand everything, you could feel her distress over your thoughts and her want to help you.

“The Master could help you where I fail.” The TARDIS finally said telepathically.

“He’s probably busy, though.” You mumbled, worried about upsetting him if you interrupted him while he was doing something.

“Go to him. He wouldn’t want to know that you allowed yourself to suffer when he was there ready and available to help you.” The TARDIS had to say this statement a couple of times in order for you to fully understand, and you sighed in response. She was right. The Master would be furious if he found out that you hid your distress from him, you knew that, he said as much many times before. It’s just that your brain would lie to you when you were upset.

“The Master will understand.” The sentient time and spaceship whispered into your brain. The TARDIS, given her time being The Master’s ship, knew better than anyone how the state of a person’s physical health could affect their mental health. She knew how greatly The Master suffered, therefore The Master would never judge you. The TARDIS just hoped that you knew what she knew.

“Can you lead me to The Master, please?” You asked after ruminating over everything the incredibly kind ship communicated to you. The TARDIS cheerfully directed you to the main library where The Master often lounged. 

Like many times before, The Master was sitting horizontally on the sofa reading. He seemed engrossed in the thick tome resting up against his bent thigh. The alien’s engrossed demeanour made you want to turn back and talk to The Master later, but The TARDIS reassured you with a comforting presence. Both you and the ship knew that the only person who could make you happy when you were feeling off was the rogue Time Lord.

You walked up as quietly as you could and poked the Master’s cheek with your finger. The Master looked up at you with a smile, completely unbothered. Even while agonisingly planning an upcoming plan to toy with The Doctor, you would always bring him joy just with your presence. You were never a bother to him,

“Hello, my little Human. How are you today?” The Master seemed so calm even though you expected him to be upset. You wrapped your arms around your torso anxiously and subconsciously began rocking back and forth on your feet.

“Can I sit on your lap please, Master?” You sounded tired, which worried The Master, though he chose not to react for your benefit. 

“Of course, love.” The Master placed the book he was researching and moved slightly to allow you to sit on his lap. 

As soon as you rested your body against his, The Master scooted his body down the sofa until the two of you were practically lying down. The Master then wrapped his arms firmly around your back, trapping you against his chest with the beating of his hearts rattling throughout your body. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, causing The Master to chuckle lovingly. You then nuzzled against his clothes-covered collarbones and the base of his neck and then breathed in his scent. His presence was comforting, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Your mind still hurt and your thoughts still moved far too quickly for you to properly calm down. You assumed that your thoughts were loud, loud enough for The Master to hear, but you didn’t put any effort into hiding your thoughts. You just wanted to dissolve into The Master’s chest and to let all of your anxieties disappear.

“I’m sorry that you aren’t feeling well, Y/n.” The Master said softly against your ear. One of his hands absentmindedly caressed up and down your back.

“Make me feel good, Master, please. You’re the only one who can.” Your headache seemed to peak right before you committed yourself to asking The Master for some help. The warmth of The Master’s body against yours and the severe pain spiking through your head was too contrasting and too overwhelming to put on a brave face any longer.

“What kind of Master would I be if I didn’t take care of my beloved Human.” The feel of The Master’s smirk against your skin sparked a warmth to spread through you. The Master always made you feel better and more secure, but on bad days you just needed a bit more reassurance.

“Please tell me that you mean that?” 

“Of course I mean it, my love. You are the only person I could ever care about.” The Master adjusted slightly in order to look you in the eye. You shied away, avoiding eye contact, and The Master didn’t push you to look at him. Though he did brush a hand down the side of your face a couple of times before kissing your forehead delicately.

“Let’s go somewhere more comfortable, love.” The Master said this to inform you that he would move the two of you. He would carry you places in The TARDIS without telling you where you were going when you were feeling like your everyday self, but not when you were feeling off. The Master never wanted to add to your anxiety, so he would always tell you when he would carry you off somewhere.

The Master moved the two of you so he was sitting up with you on his lap. He wrapped your legs around his waist and held you tightly against his chest before finally standing up with you securely in his arms. Then he carried you off to your shared bedroom. 

Once in the dark-themed and dimly lit bedroom, The Master gently placed you on the bed and wrapped you up in as many blankets as you wanted and needed. He stepped back from the bed momentarily to remove his clothes that were far inferior to yours when it came to the act of cuddling and resting. Eventually, he crawled under the covers to join you on the bed. He cuddled closer to you, holding you tighter than he did in the library, and then rubbed his hands up and down your back as you returned to your place cuddling into The Master’s side.

“What do you need, my love?”

“You.” You’re speech was muffled by The Master’s neck, but he still understood you.

“Yes, but what do you need me to do? I know that you are hiding something in that beautiful mind of yours.” You felt The Master softly tap a finger against your temple, a little jolt of calmness and relief coursing through you with each tap.

“You won’t laugh at me, will you?”

“Never.” The Master answered with sincerity heavy in his tone. You nervously mumbled your response under your breath and into his neck, making this comment more difficult for The Master to decipher.

“I couldn’t hear you, love.”

“Can you tell me I belong to you?” You asked a bit louder, but you were still quiet and nervousness permeated your question. The Master’s breath caught in his throat. He tried his best to hold in his excitement brought on by your request because this moment was about you. The idea of you belonging to him was exactly what The Master wanted, more than anything in the Universe, probably even the Multiverse. What added to his growing excitement and adoration of you was the fact that The Master didn’t even have to make you feel this way. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. Somehow, the stars aligned and they delivered the perfect person to The Master. What else could he do but give you whatever you wanted in an act of gratification?

“You belong to me, love. You always will belong to your Master. You’ll be mine forever.” The Master cuddled you impossibly closer, intertwining your bodies in a knot, and whispered into your ear with all the devotion and fervour he felt for you heavy on his tongue.

“And you really mean that -” You tried to ask again, but The Master cut you off before you could finish your insecurity-filled question. 

“Of course I mean that. I would never lie to you, especially about this.” This time when The Master moved to look you in the eye you didn’t turn away. His warm chocolate eyes held all of the sentiments that were laced within his words and even more. If it were possible, you would stare into his eyes forever. 

“Thank you, Master.”

“There is no need to thank me. You just need some rest and then you will feel better.” You huffed into The Master’s neck, just wishing that he would accept your gratitude without dismissing it.

“Come on, rest your head on my chest and close your eyes. I will deal with that headache and those pesky thoughts that were troubling you.” You did as The Master asked, already planning how you would repay The Master for everything he did for you today.��

As soon as you placed your head on The Master’s chest, the sound of his heartbeats immediately calmed you down and the pressure on your mind began to subside. The Master massaged his hands along your back, starting slowly along your neck and then moving further down toward the base of your spine. He smoothed every ache and worked out every knot and kink, all the while placing delicate kisses across your head and face. You heard him whispering praises in your ear, some in your native language and some in his. Even though you couldn’t understand everything he spoke to you, you knew that what he said was entirely comprised of his love. Because of The Master’s actions, you soon fell asleep. You were completely consumed by the rogue Time Lord’s presence, just like you wanted to be when the day began.

[calciumdeficientt]

what do you think context was behind justin's dialogue "derby told me last night i was his best friend"

Ohhhhhhh I’ve been ruminating on this ever since i listened to all the quote videos (please dont ask me why i did that i really really dont know) i pride myself on being somewhat of a stickler for the most inane and pointless background stuff.

Today i plan to answer the question:

WHY THE HELL DID DERBY SAY THAT?!?!?!?!?!?!

The easy answer here would be to say that Derby was drunk, and simply feeling very loving(that sentence feels so insane to me for some reason).

Harrington house feels very much to me the hotspot for “gatherings” of the bullworth’s brightest, best and most sickeningly rich. The little guest list on the desk as you enter, as well as Bif on the door in the weed killer mission, and obviously the general worldview of the preps points towards a general pickiness to guests, likely not accepting anyone by on their own social circle. Another key background factor to consider is the little bar that derby cowers behind in Glass Jaw during his bossfight and also the bar in the beach house, leading me to believe that the events hosted at Harrington house are usually organised with the intention of drinking copious amounts of excessively strong and exceedingly expensive alcohol.

There’s bound to be a few contentious objectors to drinking, at least excessively, on school grounds and on school nights and i think the ever-pining proto-jock Justin probably doesn’t partake as much as Derby “I’m too rich to bother attending class” Harrington. All this to say, Justin was 110% more sober and therefore 110% more receptive to derby’s drunk babblings than any other partygoer, prep or otherwise.

In my mind, Derby Harrington, despite having everything he could ever conceivably want at the snap of his fingers, is one of the loneliest students at bullworth academy. He mentions being beaten by his father for fraternising with a nanny, and shows a general disdain for his betrothed, pinky, by not even bothering to show up for their dates. He cannot truly get close to anyone because of his position as an heir to a pretty substantial oil empire. Great care is needed to avoid being sliced right out of the will and being condemned to hush money by his father. Bif is great, but he’s not all that much emotionally, at least not in derby’s mind anyway. He’s far far beneath Derby, that’s made abundantly clear when Bif loses his boxing match to Jimmy; he’s sneered at with the kind of vitriole that can only come from someone who views himself as king of his own private universe. Justin is in the same boat just presumably with a lot less petty cash at his disposal. He’s a weird ass bitch who’s so incredibly desperate to expand his social circle into the Jocks’ because he feels somewhat inadequate in his own. To use his verbage, he’s a peon in the prep hierarchy. He’s weak and scrawny and of little use in the stature department, at least not when compared to Bif anyway.

This night, Derby is drunk out of his mind, as usual, and Justin is beside him, a little buzzed but not enough to put him off his studies for the next day. They are sat on opposite ends of a chaise longue in the drawing room. Well… Justin is sat, Derby is more slumped, folded over the armrest in a way that does not look comfortable in the slightest. He’s telling a story from a recent trip to Europe, about a girl he met in a city that his drunk brain just can’t seem to decide on the pronunciation of, gulping scotch out of a crystal glass like its going out of fashion. Justin is listening actively, trying to piece the story together amongst the many asides derby seems to be wandering off into. That’s when the bomb drops “know, i like to think you’re my best friend here Justin” “what?” “You heard me….. anyway this damn woman”

Safe to say it was the best night of Justin Vandervelde’s life.

[phoenixyfriend]

Guide to Writing OCD Characters

DISCLAIMER: I started writing this post nine years ago, which is also when I started working on it. I do not remember everything I planned to add, nor have I actually reread it because the awkward horror of Reading My Own Stuff From Almost Ten Years Ago is real... but my mental state has not changed that much since, in regards to the hyperawareness of contaminated surfaces and distrust of others, so it’s probably still fine.

Everything under the cut is from back then, and has not been edited. I have not reread it.

Or rather, a guide to writing one type of OCD at moderate severity. But more on that in a minute.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) is a mental illness that is defined by the repetition of actions or mental patterns in an attempt to stifle anxiety. These actions and mental patterns are generally sorted into obsessions and compulsions, as the name suggests. Obsessions can take the form of a reliance on a certain number or color, e.g. the computer’s sound/volume must be set to a multiple of ten, I’ll feel more comfortable on a street that is a multiple of twelve, I want these random numbers I have to add up or multiply into a square. Compulsions take the form of a need to perform certain actions, often a certain number of times, e.g. repetitive hand washing, itemized destruction of small objects, etc.

OCD is not the same thing as OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder). OCPD is what most people assume OCD is. OCPD is a mental illness that is defined by a need to control one’s surroundings to a degree beyond what is reasonably expected and feasible; this is the perfectionism disorder, to put it bluntly, and it’s not something I’m at all qualified to talk about beyond explaining the difference between OCD and OCPD.

OCD can generally be separated into the following categories:

Checking

Contamination / Mental Contamination

Hoarding

Ruminations / Intrusive Thoughts

There are also others, but these are the most common. The DSM-V also describes OCD as the point at which obsessions and compulsions:

Consume excessive amounts of time (approximately an hour or more).

Cause significant distress and anguish.

Interfere with daily functioning at home, school, or work; or interfere with social activities/ family life/relationships.

I, personally, have a moderate variant of OCD that is primarily centered around contamination/mental contamination. I’m going to list off a number of my symptoms, mental patterns, and coping methods that can be used as a general guide for writing a character with OCD. If you have OCD, I would not suggest reading this list, because it may cause something to trip in your brain and cause new symptoms (it’s happened to me before).

There is always a logical pattern. It may not make sense to you at first glance, but it makes sense to the person with OCD.

The phone. I mainly use my phone on the subway, so my brain immediately tracks the germs’ journey from subway pole to hand to phone to bag, and unless I clean my phone and bag up at some point with a Clorox wipe or hand sanitizer, I will refuse to touch it unless I have some way to clean myself immediately afterwards or it’s an emergency.

When I come home with groceries, I will wipe down the boxes and bottles with a Clorox wipe as soon as possible (with the exception of feminine hygiene products). I generally get groceries as soon as I get off the subway, so my brain tracks germs from the subway to my hands to my groceries, as well as assuming that there must already be germs on them from other people touching them.

Prior to starting to use the Clorox wipes on my groceries, heating up bread (because I put bread in the freezer because it lasts longer that way, a quirk that actually has nothing to do with my OCD) required me to wash my hands at least twice because my brain focused on how the germs were still on the outside of the package. Once I opened the bag, I had to go wash my hands in order to take the bread out, put it on the plate, and start heating it up. Then I had to close the bag and wash my hands again. If I didn’t finish the entire can of pašteta or tuna or whatever, I had to repeat the process to get more. You can see how this could be irritating, but the brain literally will not shut up about the germs and contamination.

Any part of your pants is considered dirty after the first five minutes. Any part of it. The undersides have touched your shoes and the bus/subway seat and the upper sides have touched the undersides when you crossed your legs. The belt has been dirty since the first time you wore it and the belt loops on your pants have picked that up, but the pockets and zipper and everything in that area is also dirty because that’s the part of your pants that you touched when you pulled them up in the bathroom before washing your hands.

The same goes for the hem of your shirt. You touched it with dirty bathroom hands before you washed them. The hem of your shirt is off limits unless you plan on washing your hands or using copious amounts of hand sanitizer in the near future.

That line about your pants getting dirty because they touched other parts of your clothing that were already dirty? That applies to everything. Especially coats and shoes.

You do not trust anyone that says they just washed their hands. You smile, shake their hand, and then use hand sanitizer as soon as they turn away. Chances are they tripped one of your own contamination lines without realizing it.

Like touching a door handle. Most people consider that an everyday thing. I will do whatever it takes to avoid touching a door handle unless I have immediate access to a sink and soap, especially if it’s a bathroom door handle, because those are nasty and a lot of people don’t wash their hands.

Hand sanitizer is a godsend. It’s a massive coping method that makes it ten times easier to get things done because you aren’t running off to teh bathroom all the time.

Certain parts of your environment are designated as ‘safe’ zones that you don’t touch unless completely clean. The upper half of the bed and the pillow are big ones. Everything else, not so much.

Neatness is helpful but it’s not an immediate necessity. So long as things stay in their own area, even if the garbage needs to be taken out or there’s blood stains on the floor, the brain compartmentalizes that into “not touching my hands or face and as such is okay to ignore for the time being.”

[fitsofdespair]

i have hesitated to say anything before now. in part because i removed myself from fandom discourse and really from actively discussing iwtv a year ago. i consider it all a lose-lose situation.

but also because i’m generally of the opinion that black fans don’t need people to be their white saviors, least of all me. black people have never been saved by white people. they were never just given anything when it comes to strides in equality, they fought for it and still fight for it, against constant violent pushback every step of the way. only instead of the good ole’ days when racists just called those fighting for equality uppity, they’re now “bullies” for daring to call you out on your shit after the repeated condescension and the resulting harassment you’ve exhibited towards them.

in this day and age the word bully has zero meaning anymore. i mean come on, melania trump calls people mean about her husband bullies. elon musk thinks he’s being bullied by twitter users, though he clearly holds all the power and is absolutely the problem. its become a meaningless word that goliaths use to call davids because they won’t use the real word they actually want to say. some of these popular blogs are not being bullied, they’re being held accountable for their own actions.

it’s pretty disgusting the number of you who decided to identify strongly with these users that not only fail to question their own racial biases but have gone so far as to suggest black people don’t face racism anymore. this is so fucked. tbh it can be argued in many ways white people, especially in the deep south where i’m from, are inherently raised steeped in racism, even if its not direct. just because your family aren’t ostensibly racist doesn’t mean they didn’t bake their own little prejudices into your upbringing and being raised in your environment didn’t encourage them. even if you don’t see yourself as racist, you have to unlearn all this shit, even if it never once occurred to you that you are part of it. just cause you believe in equality and don’t hate people for their color or cultural background does not make you free of perpetuating microaggressions against them. this applies to fans across the world of course. (like for you white euro iwtv fans, you may say you have no problem with black people but i’ve heard some wild things some of yall have to say about the turks.)

i understand that probably half or more of you are not usamericans. but no matter what environment you live in, no matter where you were raised, there is no excuse for your behavior. just because YOU don’t see racism in your day to day life or are in the more likely situation, too blindly comfortable in your place in society to notice it right in front of your face, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist as a constant presence in other parts of the world or isn’t deeply ensconced in online rhetoric.

so for you white iwtv fans who can’t be fucked to mention let alone defend people you, in many cases once called friend, against the absolute horseshit your current comrades are spewing wrapped up in their nice safe cocoons of victimhood, i hope you do some serious soul searching to figure out if this is who you are, a person too cowardly to call out a friend because it might cost you their friendship. a person quick to condemn others on hearsay because you couldn’t be fucked to wonder am i on the right side of this? and if you do manage to get wise and change your mind, remember its not unforgivable to say, you know what? i was wrong. i wrote in an old post that the hallmark of being a functional adult is changing your views accordingly when you learn new information or even just ruminate on what you know (i myself was a little bitch about ep 5 when it first dropped until i had to sit down and ask myself why i was actually feeling some kind of way about it). dying on a hill is not all its cracked up to be. being told you’re wrong is not always a personal attack and its often an opportunity for improvement if you can be bothered to genuinely hear other people out. an alarming number from all walks of life never figure that out. for my part, i am still learning and hope i never stop learning.

while that sentiments all nice and gooey (i mean them, but i understand its still sacharine to put out there), i am still guilty for not having directly written anything about this until now. and thats on me and i earned any flack i get for that. again, i am more of the mindset that black people don’t need white spokespeople, but that doesn’t mean they'll mind allies. and as a sidebar, going out of your way to say you are rising “above the noise” or “ignoring the drama” is absolutely your right, but it does not make you superior. it just makes you complacent with the status quo. i mean as long as you get to squee!! about anything and everything who cares about other people, right?

[vicsy]

something something something about how max’s hair is completely brown now…when daniel closes his eyes all he sees is blonde

ohhh. ohh anon. you should not have gone there.... but I am glad you did. this is also something very up @mysticalbreadcollective 's alley since blonde Max is on her daily agenda BUT

anon. idk what floats your boat but let me take you somewhere rancid under the cut (let the record show that I am a maxiel truther but my god do I enjoy making them suffer with other people)

it's current season and maxiel aren't together due to Reasons with capital R of course. Daniel's "i can't fuck my teammate i am not into guys or am I but maybe that's just Max oh no you can't be with Max" and Max's general understanding of his own worth and needs. they can't escape the tension, the lingering touches, the double entendre running through their relationship like a river in flood. one step forward, two steps back etc etc

so things aren't going exactly as planned for Daniel and, naturally, he's fighting the pull towards Max and the best next thing his brain chooses to do is find someone to hook up with, get it out of his system. since his dick is very much attuned to Max after years of imagining that's its gonna find itself parked in Max's ass (which never happened), Daniel's looking for someone particular to scratch the itch and, apparently, to spite the fate, his choice falls to YOU GUESSED IT – Liam.

very convenient, since they're both gunning for the same thing. exploring some healthy alternatives to their impromptu rivalry or whatever the media says. Daniel's pretty charming and Liam's easy. done and done.

and it's bad. capital "b" Bad. the sex comes pretty fast and Daniel's checking all of his boxes - rookie, blonde, tiny waist, looks at him with wide eyes etc etc and Liam is surprisingly down to fuck cause maybe that is also convenient for him, too. but he's mean about it. He's heard legends about Big Dick Ric and the dick is very big but the prowess? lacking. he says that to Daniel's face after, like, the third time it happens. which should be incredibly insulting but–

Daniel's pining and trying to trick himself which works exactly for three seconds but Liam isn't what he wants. wrong kind of blonde hair that Daniel's gripping tight while he fucks Liam from the back, never face to face, because that would prompt Daniel to THINK and RUMINATE and he doesn't want that. he wants Max the way he sees him when he closes his eyes but it's gone when he opens them and finishes another underwhelming sexcapade. it's never the right color, it's never the right person' it's always a bad time.

"do you think I'm not getting what you're doing here?" Liam says to him one day, grinning meanly, and Daniel truly doesn't know the answer to that question. he's hella confused himself. Liam seems to get off on the situation more than when he's riding Daniel's dick, so he calls Daniel Danny in the garage and he suddenly glues himself to Daniel's side, which is. weird. manipulative? Daniel's plan to get over himself backfires when he sees Liam talking to Max one day and Max's easy smile slowly dissipates as Liam's yapping but Daniel can't hear a word.

he doesn't really need to. he knows Liam cashed in on Daniel's sorry excuse of a reason to hook up. all Daniel can do is add to the history of horrendous decisions he's made in his life and live with the knowledge that he's probably never going to wake up next to Max's mostly-not-blonde hair getting in his face where they're tangled in bed, that Daniel's dabbled in something he should not have touched with a ten foot pole, that he'd tarnished all of his chanced, basically set them on fire when max had been there and never turning him down all the way.

Daniel got some, Liam got some. after all, it's Max who, unfairly, walks out it hurt the most, because of Daniel's choice, because of him thinking he was chasing something else while in reality he was running. and Daniel never fucking stopped.

[devsgames]

On AI-Driven Conversations In Games

The AI gang really shot themselves in the foot by leaning so hard into capitalist exploitation angle, because now whenever they present a use of the tech that is actually moderately interesting the baseline reaction people have to it is just going to be hate because it's associated to AI in any way shape or form.

I mean, obviously I understand why people react this way, because most of the practical applications of AI are just a veil for replacing of labour and increasing profit margins for the executive levels. But I feel like nowadays you'll also just see a lot of people hating an idea because it's implicitly tied to AI in any way, despite the core conceit of the idea actually being fairly interesting. (Remember when Spiderverse used Machine Learning to generate some of it's incredibly labour-intensive frame-by-frame effects and then a bunch of people got mad because it used Machine Learning for that?)

People have been pointing to the use case of "what if you could talk to an NPC in a game and have their reponses generated via AI", and laughing at it like it's the dumbest suggestion ever, but honestly in my opinion I think that's the exact kind of system AI was practically designed for! To me that feels like an excellent application of the tech that is now just marred by the mention of AI in the first place.

Anyway, to ruminate on the concept a bit: I see that use of AI enabling a dev to fill out a world with more NPCs who help it feel more populated, as well as potentially give them incredibly varied responses that are more relevant to the NPCs immediate context of the game. I imagine instead of replacing full-on player choice dialog it would instead replace the throwaway barks of awkward and out of place open-world NPCs who look at you and say "I have nothing to say to you" and giving them something to directly say about your adventure or the context around them instead.

Instead of having the intern narrative designers be forced to write little barks and blurbs like "I have nothing to say" (which I understand narrative folks usually view as grunt work and hate writing in he first place), they'd be writing little prompts for that system instead. End result is when you talk to random farmer NPC #344 outside of town they say "Crop's doing well this year, here's hoping a dragon doesn't attack us" instead of "I've got nothing to say". I think on paper that's a genuinely good and interesting way to improve an antiquated open-world problem like that. Should it be helpful? Probably not. Would it be interesting? No. Would it be a little more flavourful than what we currently have going on? I think so!

It's not an AI shill fever dream, I can see exactly how it would work and I'd bet money that there's a studio doing something like it in R&D right now. I imagine it'd also probably be pretty adaptable between projects too, so the similar system could be applied to different areas of the world.

Should it be trusted to give the player directions or do any sort of leading that a narrative designer should do? Almost certainly not because it would be inconsistent and have too big a possibility window, and AI is nothing if not horrible at performing essential tasks that might block progress.

Should it be done with the tech as it is now? Hell no, unless you want to wait five seconds for every reply to be generated and for it to be tied to some server bank that's guzzling all of Arizona's water. Also it would probably need an internet conncetion to work, which is asking a lot for an open world game.

Should it be done by these studios who are more interested in using it to replace labour and make the end result cheaper to make so they can keep more profits off he top? No, and that's the real reason why the applications of this tech sucks - because spoiler alert they'd all love to save money.

Obviously this concept isn't doable right now, but I wouldn't be surprised if it ships in a game in some form within 5-10 years tops.

Again I get why at this point in capitalism there's almost no applications of machine learning that are easy to trust, nor should we ever believe studios are doing it for any reason outside of trying to make development cheaper. I just think when it comes to tech it's worthwhile to keep execution in mind separate from intent; Tech isn't implicitly evil, it's the system it's built under that is. :)