#sentence structure? trash

[peachesofteal]

Who else looks at everything they’ve written and feels the urge to destroy it because it’s all terrible-

[centrally-unplanned]

Annals of US city governance, we are finally embracing the radical notion of trash bins:

The new rule is part of the city’s broader plan to move trash into containers, a simple yet revolutionary change in New Yorkers’ trash habits. To do so could easily cost the city hundreds of millions of dollars over the next decade. City officials must buy new specialized trash trucks and stationary containers, while also increasing the frequency of residential trash collection in large swaths of the city.

"Specialized trash trucks and stationary containers" how will we develop this frontier technology??

Other cities like Barcelona, Buenos Aires and Singapore have already embraced trash containerization.

Genius sentence, the way its structured to imply only the best of the best in modern cities have piloted this crazy idea. Soon NYC will be on the elite list of cities not dumping bags of trash openly on the streets! If you find yourself asking "wait why has this not happened yet", well:

City officials found that it was possible to use trash containers on 89 percent of the city’s residential streets, but it would require removing 150,000 parking spots 

So, yup.

[bitethedevil]

What do you like about the character of Raphael ?

A Feral Love Letter to the Devil We Know

Oh boy. Here’s my list of why Raphael is like catnip to me (it’s not short and it is possibly a bit extra deranged because I am currently sick).

Purely physical things that convince me that this man was made for me in a lab:

Brown eyes and dark hair has always been my type

The slight stubble and those cheekbones (generally just his whole facial structure is beautiful)

The fucking n o s e <3 <3

Those thick thighs (perfectly sittable and bitable). He is just perfectly shaped.

Those hands he waves in your face all the time and those long fingers (does things to me)

His clothes. Yes, even in cambion form and even the silly clown boots, I love them. It is just all too extra, and I live for it

Everything about his cambion form

I have this crazy theory. There has been made these studies that depending on hormone levels, women are attracted to different kinds of men. At one end of their cycle, they prefer more ‘feminine’ looking men, and on the other end they prefer more traditionally ‘masculine’ looking men. If I get tired of his human form, I get more attracted to his cambion form and the cycle repeats. I think that is why I just do not get tired of staring at this stupid man every day. I know I’m not crazy. It’s science (and we all know I’m a trusted scientist).

Non-physical things that intrigue me:

How expressive he is. I love how his face changes constantly and dramatically with each sentence he speaks. It’s mostly an act but he is so charismatic. He has ‘rizz’ like the kids would say.

I can’t fix him. I don’t want to. His mind games intrigue me. I want to study him like a bug and play mind games with him too (I’m not delusional enough to think I’d win). Let it be toxic as fuck on both parts.

This man is just chucking stones from his glass house like there is no tomorrow. He plays such a big bad devil, but he is really just a little wet cat with a god complex and daddy issues. Not to mention his little hissy fits if any of his perceived weaknesses are pointed out. I find it endearing (unfortunately).

His voice and his eloquence. I love it. Even his shitty poetry. I could listen to it for eternity.

He is so smart. I have been shouting it from the roof tops: he is not stupid. He is always ten steps ahead.

He’s honest. He doesn’t lie and you know where you’ve got him (if you know how to keep up with him).

Genuinely everyone thinks he sucks, both devils and mortals, and yet he thinks he is the shit, either genuinely or as a coping mechanism.

He just such a nuances character if you really dig into it.

Things I relate to:

The scheming and overthinking. Everything is meticulously thought out to the point of obsession. He is playing 4D chess but doesn’t even consider that the other players might just eat the pieces to win. He strikes me as someone who completely overcomplicates things for no reason, and I felt that.

His idea of order is very different from what’s actually orderly. It just has to make sense to him, like ‘what do you mean it’s not orderly to have dead people lying around, trash everywhere, and debtors running around aimlessly in my house? Completely intentional. What’s not clicking?”. I felt that too. There is order to my chaos, and you don’t have to understand it. I get it.

He’s a cringy theater kid with a love for poetry too.

I too find it annoying when other people don’t follow the script I had in mind for the conversation.

Just human enough to understand how human interactions works, but either doesn’t give a shit or genuinely thinks that just spouting vaguely threatening poetry to strangers is a completely normal thing to do.

The obsession and ambition that just completely makes him lose the plot of everything else.

He is just so obsessed with everything being perfect to a point where it almost seems silly.

Acts like he doesn’t care, but actually cares A LOT about how other people perceive him.

I could honestly keep going but you get the picture.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[i-write-but-only-sometimes]

Girlfriend | Stardew Valley Sebastian/F!Reader

Synopsis – Sebastian finds out that Sam is dating the farmer. Nice guys finish last.

Content Warnings – masturbation, creepy incel stalker behavior, excessive swearing, jealousy/pining

Author's Note – This is my first time posting a fic online and not just leaving it to rot in my Drive. I'm working on varying my sentence structure and hope the next one will be better!

**MINORS DNI**

The slamming of the basement door echoed through the dim, musty basement. Seb raked his fingers through his hair, grunting “Fuck!” through gritted teeth. The large case that had been slung around his shoulder clattered to the ground, with no regard to whether the keyboard inside would be damaged. Seb rolled his chair back and practically threw himself into it, pulling forward to boot up his PC. Frantic mouse-clicking and key-tapping eventually led him to his best friend’s Instagram profile. This fucking asshole.

Under the username, sam.i.am.01—how lame is that?—in his bio, was the final nail in Seb’s coffin. ‘Taken :)’. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Seb selected the first post, accidentally missing the image a few times before it blew up on the screen. Just a generic beach picture? He clicked the arrow taking him through the slides, ignoring the “cool" shells and sunset views until he got to one photo in particular. Sam and the farmer on the beach. She smiled as he kissed her cheek, both of them glistening, covered in beads of salty water as the ocean behind them reflected a perfect day. The caption: ‘Got to spend the day with my favorite girl in the whole world. <3 Just kidding, mom!’ Pens and pencils clattered to the floor as Seb pitched their container at the wall across the room. He gripped the arm rests on his chair and rolled away from the computer. “What the fuck?!”

Dingy floorboards creaked as Seb huffily paced around the room, biting away at the skin around his fingernails. The ones the farmer painted. ‘That post was days old and no one told me anything! He fucking knows I’m not on social media and he took advantage of that so he wouldn’t have to tell me to my face! He could say he thought everyone knew!’ Sam, that piece of shit, knew how he felt about her. Even when she was still the new girl in town, Seb liked her way before Sam did. He knew that. No wonder Sam had been so “busy” the past few days. Dark eyes focused on the map still sprawled out on the table from last week’s D&D session. It was supposed to be a one shot of an experimental system Seb found on Reddit, but Sam kept cracking jokes and it took longer to get through than expected. ‘I should have known then, every time Sam said something, he’d look to her for approval. And she ate it up!’ Come to think of it, more jokes had been at Seb’s expense than usual. He snatched the map and crumpled it up, colorful dice and intricately painted miniatures flying off and scattering on the floor. The map landed in a ball near an overflowing trash bin. Heart pounding through his ears, he returned to the computer. “Fuck this.”

As he sat, Seb tugged at the button on his dark jeans, undoing and and lowering his fly. He hated Sam, he fucking hated him, but he couldn’t change how good the farmer looked in her tight little swimsuit. Seb drank her up with his eyes, memorizing how nylon spandex indented her smooth skin. How sweat and saltwater intermingled and rolled down her curves. It was like he could taste her, and when he palmed his growing hard-on through the denim of his pants, he could feel her too. Running thumbs around the hem of his pants and boxer briefs, he hurriedly pulled them down mid-thigh, freeing his erection. He was warm, but it felt nice in the cool air. Under the desk was a bottle of lotion, and Seb reached down to pump some into his palm. This is it. This is what Sam fucking deserves.

One hand blocked the face of a traitor on his monitor while the other began massaging lotion onto his stiff cock. ‘Sam’s such a pussy, she’s got to pity him, going for a guy like that. But he doesn’t get the connection we have. He’ll see.’ He could treat her so much better. He knew he’d treat her so much better. Seb’s fist pumped at increasing speeds as he imagined the things he’d do to her.

If she chose him, he’d bring her out to the beach late at night. Elliot and Willy would be asleep at home and they’d have the shore to themselves, letting them talk and relax to the sound of waves crashing uninterrupted. She’d kiss him under the moonlight, and he’d snake a hand under the stretchy fabric of her bathing suit to fondle her breast, kneading her hard nipple under his thumb and making her hum in satisfaction. Her moans would be the invitation he needed to take things further, straddling her and humping her wet cunt through her swimsuit. She removes her arms and pulls the fabric down past her tits, and Sebastian is mezmerised by the way they bounce beneath him. He lunges forward, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, before pulling it upward and releasing it with a satisfying pop. Her moans reverberate into the night but are drowned out by the ambient sound of the ocean. But Seb wanted more; he wanted everyone to hear what he was doing to her. Shimmying his swim trunks down to his knees, his eyes bore into hers, begging for permission to enter. “Fuck me.” And so he does, yanking her swim bottoms to the side and plowing her into the sand. His hands and knees sink into the ground beneath them, but he still manages to pull her hips towards his and ram into her with unexpected force, grunting with each rut.

Sand sticks to her sweat-slicked skin as she pleads to him. “Shit, Sebastian…!” She reaches to lick a stripe up his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin just under his jaw and making him shiver. He pulls back, keeping his eyes on hers as he licks his thumb and grazes her clit. She squirms under him, rolling her hips to gain more friction.

“What, you like that?” He smirks, but her frustrated groans as a result of his teasing convince him to relent. He traces swift circles around her clit and is rewarded with a tightening around his cock.

“Yes…yes!” Seb lulls his head forward, overwhelmed by the pleasure, and watches as her pussy contorts around his shaft as he penetrates her. Fuck, she’s so hot.

He wanted her so fucking bad, it wasn’t fair. The glow of the computer screen illuminated his flushed, sweaty face in the dark room. She was so tempting, he found himself rutting desperately into his fist, increasing the strength of his grip as though it was her squeezing around him. Glazed eyes darted from the image of her breasts, to her midriff, to her ass and back up again; he wanted to visualize them all at once. He wanted all of her. She was his.

Seb brought the free hand against the screen up to his slack mouth, stifling a moan. Seeing the full image again, of Sam kissing his goddess, made him grunt in frustration, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Still, the tension building in his core was at its climax, and he came hot white into his palm and onto the floor beneath his desk. Head rolling back, a cloud of euphoria washed over him, followed by a wave of clarity and regret. Tears rolled down his warm cheeks as he drooped his head into his hand, liked the post, and closed the tab.

[arkus-rhapsode]

When you see yourself in trash (Gachiakuta Discussion)

So with the positive reception of my recent thinkpiece, I wanted to make good on my promise that I’d post more. And this has kinda been one I’ve been wanting to do for a while. But due to the deeply personal nature of it, I wanted to really give it the time it deserved to come together.

This is going to be a post about Gachiakuta, which if my multiple posts on it haven’t been an indicator, I'm kinda a big fan. But what’s more, I really wanted to talk about why Gachiakuta speaks to me more in depth.

Background 

So for those who don’t know, Gachiakuta is a weekly manga series by mangaka Kei Urana. Urana is a former assistant of the student of the Soul Eater and Fire Force creator, Atsushi Okubo. This series premiered shortly after Okubo’s Fire Force finished up, and stars a young boy named Rudo who lives in the slum area of a place called “The Sphere” (Or Heaven depending on the translation). Rudo has a habit of stealing from waste deposit sites and repairing broken items he finds. He lives with his adopted father Regeto after his biological father was sentenced to “The Abyss” for murder. The Abyss is a gaping chasm where all of the Sphere’s trash and prisoners are dumped. 

Rudo is a somewhat surly child, and noticeably struggles with properly expressing his emotions despite the fact he is a highly emotional person. Smiling in particular is a struggle for him. Rudo one day comes to find Regto killed by a mysterious masked man, and blamed for this crime. Rudo is sentenced to the Abyss where he cries in anger he will return and kill everyone here. In the Abyss, Rudo is met by monsters made of trash and people devoted to fighting them, the Cleaners (Or Janitors depending on the translation). This fighting force of magic garbage men use the power of a “Giver” to empower items dear to them known as Jinki. With Rudo discovering that he can do the same with his gloves given to him by Regeto. Now he’ll work with the Cleaners killing trash monsters as he unravels the mystery of who killed his adoptive father and how he’ll escape the Abyss.

And it has been the newest manga series in the last four years that has not only made me feel hyped but await every chapter since its release.

Now if everything I said previously sounded like “well that sounds like a fairly straight forward if somewhat interestingly flavored revenge action manga. What makes it special?” Well then we’re going have to talk about Rudo. 

Rudo

So Gachiakuta is a series with a lot of weirdos in it and some unconventional story structures to it (and we’ll touch on that later) but I think the character who embodies the core of this series is its MC, Rudo. 

On the surface Rudo is a character that could feel at home with any number of shonen manga protags. Really expressive, yells a lot, spiky hair, and a power that’s kinda special amongst its power system. Basically, If Deku from MHA was a bit more angry and sleep deprived, you probably think he and Rudo were the same person on the surface. And for the most part, Rudo seemed to be that way, an angry kid out for revenge who treasured the last remaining gift he received from his foster father. Yet then we get to chapter 15 of Gachiakuta. A truly special chapter. 

When Griss, Rudo’s teammate for this mission, was run through with claws by the villain, Jabber Wongar, Rudo seems to suffer some for of PTSD as the world goes hazy and he sees Griss as Regeto, stabbed and bleeding. We cut to Rudo as a child in Regto’s care and there, Rudo is banging his head against a wall to the point blood is coming out. 

When Regto asks why Rudo would do this, the only thing Rudo can describe is how he has nothing. He has these feelings he doesn’t know how to describe yet he believes he’s nothing from the abuse he suffered at the hands of parents. All he has to really express it it this sort of frustration. While Rudo’s parents being murders may have been a lot for any child, Rudo carries literal scars given to him by his father. His hands peeled and scared and burnt black. The pain in his hands stops when he wears the gloves Regto gave him. 

And when Regto wants Rudo to find something to focus his passion into, the thing that catches Rudo’s attention the most is a broken mannequin. Rudo cries letting out those feelings he said he couldn’t describe. Wanting to fix something and can’t believe it was tossed away because it was “a little broken.” At that moment, Regto realizes something about Rudo. He sees himself in those same objects that weren’t valued and tossed away.

So this is where I get to one of the things about Gachiakuta and Rudo in particular that speaks to me. Rudo, to me, is an example of a neurodivergent child and the text actually bothers to focus on how this affects his life. Now I know the moment I’ve said that there will be a lot of people who want me to explain, and the first thing is, no the manga doesn’t come out and say that Rudo is on the spectrum. But rather it lays a pretty explicit analogy to someone who may not be typical in some regard mentally or emotionally. I know in the space of neurodivergent individuals representation is… difficult. Not just to find in the media, but also represented in a way that isn’t just “they’re a super genius.” Because there are many many forms of neurodivergence and how the manifest can be different for many individuals. Someone with ADHD may have their life affected in ways different than someone diagnosed with Autism. This is where I think it's very important for me to say, I’m just one guy on the spectrum. I’m speaking from my personal experience but you shouldn’t take my opinion as gospel. This is just me and my experiences. And my personal reading of this  

So when I say, a “mentally different character” in the media can be a tricky tightrope to walk, I mean it. Wanting there to be a positive representation for a community that may not get representation, but also not wanting to be like some monolithic depiction of what living with one of these conditions may be like. And there are plenty of ways where this could go very wrong (Anyone remember the time Aquaman cured Autism?). So when the text can’t just say “I am X” it's not uncommon for the readers to begin to see or relate to how a character may act. Speaking of how they act, in the case of anime and manga another “complication” can occur in the fact that many of these characters can act… well whacky and that’s treated as most acceptable in the universe. Whereas in real life, its likely anywhere from Gon to Goku would get side eye with their behavior. And thus you have the basis for plenty of head canons, one prominently being a character’s place on the spectrum. 

Let's take any character, say Rill Boismortier from the series Black Clover. He’s a relatively second character in the series with an aptitude for art magic, who had locked himself in his room isolating himself from others till his butler reached him and now he’s a very eccentric, excitable, outgoing character. From the fact that he has a fixation on art to things like making sounds that could be read as vocal stimming, Rill could be read as an autistic character.

Or how about we look at one of the more memetic takes of the internet and all the jokes that Fern and Frieren from Frieren: Beyond the Journey’s End are autistic. This joke mainly comes from how in this world everything has a cool, somewhat mellow vibe with many people acting very muted. With Frieren herself struggling with making a distinction in the passage of time thanks to her elven aging and trying to understand the human condition. And Fern also a relatively reserved and subdued individual only really expresses her feeling a sensation of frustration or annoyance through “Kawaii pouting” puffing out her cheeks.

There are plenty more examples, but I wanted to illustrate that there are characters in manga and anime that I believe-yes, someone with neurodivergence could identify with, however, would I go as far as to say that this was the writer's original intention? Well choosing to err on the side of caution, I'm going to guess not likely. Someone could easily say, “you’re reading too much into it. There is nothing in the canon that outright says that. Rill is just a joke character, Frieren is a completely different species so it can’t really be neuro-atypical from a human standpoint, Fern’s pouting is just a gap moe trope.” And to be honest, I don’t necessarily think people holding these beliefs would be wrong. Nor do I wish to imply that if someone sees themselves in one of these characters that means they’re on the spectrum.

I'm saying there’s nothing wrong with either option. If you are someone neurodivergent and you see yourself in someone like Rill, that’s great. If you are someone who isn’t neurodivergent but still sees themselves in someone like Rill, that’s also great. The point I’m trying to make is that it may be unintentional, but a neurodivergent person seeing a neurodivergent story inside a specific character can happen and in many ways offer insights into the character.

And for someone like me who has spent a long time coming to grips with how my atypicality has affected my identity, Rudo’s story hit me. Hit me in a way I don’t think many series have. Rudo is a character who shows a fixation on trash, particularly broken pieces of trash. His old wounds he covers and just the feelings on this specific piece of clothing is able to make the feelings of his wounds go away. And just the way he described having emotion inside, but not being able to properly express it to the point he was doing self harm, it tore me up inside. 

Made even more dramatic by the fact that Rudo is having this flashback being triggered by Griss being stabbed. Griss is a guy Rudo has known for a day who is shown to be a cool guy, but most importantly, when Rudo spent his welcome party sulking in a corner all tied up in his shell, only for Griss to ask him about his future. Rudo truly was feeling like he was losing a fatherly figure again in front of him

This was one of the moments that in my mind showed me the sort of direction this series wanted to go in with Rudo. Edgy, dark, cool, and stylistic revenge series in manga have existed for years. In fact, they’ll exist long after Gachiakuta and myself have expired. Many of these series can vary on the portrayal of their MC, conflicted, ready to embrace destruction, righteous in their pursuit, yet Gachiakuta has been unique for me, seeing Rudo have all the hallmarks for a vengeful story yet people always come to speak with him on his behavior. 

Not in a sort of guidance counselor way, but more in a natural way of trying to make this kid who has had a life where he hasn’t had to properly think about/experience certain things life can throw at you and they want him to improve. From telling him it's okay to not know what he wants to do in the future, to letting him know it's okay to make mistakes, to learning how to properly have a conversation and connect with others. I think a lot of these moments can feel like sweet nothings, but for me I saw it as a part of growing up. Or rather something I wanted growing up. I’ve experienced many moments of my life where I felt lost not in small part to the fact it felt like no one could meet me on my ground. And something about Gachiakuta is the attempt that almost every character has made trying to reach Rudo and show him a form of empathy. And as the series has gone on that empathy has really changed. He went from a kid not understanding what was wrong about saying “I'm only working with you till fulfill my goal!,” demanding cooperation from others, to actively trying to ask for help when hears of an opportunity to come closer to his goal. 

This sort of vulnerability I think was present in his moment screaming his revenge. He’s visibly crying. Despite all the bluster and crassness, there’s clearly a frustrated and overwhelmed boy who has been condemned by a society that brands him “unclean.” This is also where I should mention Urana is an absolute master with art and expressions. Making everyone feel so alive. Rudo’s faces are an absolute highlight. Despite a person who seems set up to have a chip on his shoulder, he may be one of the wackiest in just how big he can let his emotions go. Which ties into our next part.

Zodyl and the Watchman Series

Now I'm sure you’re wondering, “Arkus, you said that this manga hasn’t hard confirmed Rudo is actually neurodivergent, yet you say the text makes the analogy so does someone finally say it?” Well to answer that, I’m gonna need to talk about the main villain of this series and the tools he’s after, The Watchman series.

Our seemingly main antagonist of the series is a man named Zodyl Typhon, leader of the organization The Raiders (Or the Vandals depending on the translation) a group of evil givers who seem to be devoted to the destruction of The Sphere. As they living in a world where the natural order is simply that they are a people who have garbage raining down upon them. Polluting them, crushing them, and people of the Abyss have gradually become accustomed to it all. Zodyl wants to shock the system and he wishes to get his hands on all the various powerful Jink known as the “Watchman series.” So far it's known that only Rudo’s gloves, Amo’s boots, and Zodyl’s coat are part of this set. 

Zodyl is depicted as an amoral, somewhat sociopathic person, with intense eyes, viewing people as experiments to test his theories, and showing practically no emotion. He describes each piece of the Watchman series as containing extremely powerful emotions in them. A normal person couldn’t use these items with going mad due to these emotions. Yet people like Rudo and Zodyl haven't gone mad. Well that’s being they’re not like others.

In one of the most painful visual analogies, Zodyl describes that in this world there are people born missing pieces that every other human is born with. This leaves them as something sort of empty. WIth Rudo knowing exactly what he’s talking about. This was already hinted at by Amo who says wearing her Watchman boots feels as though she’s a toy that had a new battery inside. Zodyl doesn’t think that missing something fundamental is a bad thing though, in his opinion not being born with it has made him a vessel for this power. 

I once again cannot say with a hundred percent certainty that Kei Urana was intentionally channeling the experiences of those who may be told “they’re not like others because they were born atypical” but it's so hard for me to not read it that way. Especially the part where Zodyl rejects the idea that there’s anything wrong with this. He’s not wrong for how he’s born, look at all the cool stuff he can do now. While Rudo stands there and thinks about how isolated he felt from everyone else. It's easy to see these as two very valid responses to someone with a mental health diagnosis, lamenting how this puts you at odds with others and how being different in this way makes it harder for you to connect. While the other rejects needing the validation of others, there isn’t a problem. 

Once again, no one just flat out says it, but so much of the subtext is basically there in your face in regards to Watchman and Zodyl’s speech. But the fact this power is only wielded by something that is described as a missing piece. With the image of a heart in pieces. To me, the emphasis placed on the value of one’s emotional and mental capacity as something that can be filled, like its just so out there how can I not see something there? 

Well maybe its because I want to?

Artistic Interpretation 

Look, I'm not gonna to give you a dry lecture on the value of artistic interpretation. I think we’re all mature enough that multiple people can have multiple different interpretations of a single world. With art being something that lends itself to being read in a variety of ways. I'm not making this post to delegitimize any interpretation.

Rather I wanted to come all the way back to the pin I put in when mentioning the unconventional story structures. Now it should come to no one’s surprise that the woman who was an assistant and student of the guy who made Soul Eater makes some bizarre choices. Not the least of which being the characters and tone.

No, rather I wanna touch on something that I find Urana and Okubo do better than a lot of people which is visual interpretation. Both utilize the visual aspect of this visual medium to make some points. But rather, both of them allow these visuals to hang out there and allow you the reader to come to your own interpretation of this. 

This type of storytelling in my opinion can force the audience to actually engage with the work in a deeper meaningful way. While some would argue that it leaves things open in a way that may never truly be satisfying. I think in the case of Gachiakuta it has less of that tha an Okubo work, but there are plenty of things I do believe Urana leaves out there for you to read as you will. 

When I see her going out of her way to make a doll with their heart missing and a man describing a feeling of them missing, Uruana is not expressly saying anything, but allowing us the audience to decide how we read it. I'm certain she has her own way of viewing this story, but I do appreciate that she’s allowed Gachiakuta to be a series where we are allowed some creative liberties. Especially in the fact this is a weekly shonen manga. A demographic I feel often can suffer from needing to make everything somewhat obvious in its meaning or intent. 

But Urana really knows how to capture this sort of vibe. Allow the art to speak for itself and I find myself having to put some of myself in the series when I read and interact with it. So while I’m sure there will be people who think I have basically convinced them of nothing and that this might all be reading to deep, I do at least want to point out that Urana herself has at least allowed for me to make these connections on my own and I think that is worth something at least on her part as a creative.

Conclusion

So yeah what was that all about? Welp like I said this was to be a more personal thinkpiece. One where I wanted to work through my own feelings on why this series had me captivated. Also it's possibly my attempt to broaden the discussion of Gachiakuta. 

Despite the fact many have made the prediction its gonna be a “big deal” it really isn’t. At least by pure sales wise. Nothing bad, but nothing remarkable at the time of writing this. Honestly its doing much better than a series that’s not on the extremely accessible SJ app. It’s a good series but it may just always be underground. 

Every influencer wants to be on the ground floor, whether it's this, Red Hood, Kagurabachi, Nue’s Exorcist, Astro Royale, Mama Yuyu, Centuria, etc. I get that hype and memes are a powerful thing in this internet consumer world. But I do want a series that may be big or important one day to touch on things that make it good beyond hype and anticipation. 

And for me that is what I got with Gachiakuta. There’s an element to it that I haven’t really felt in manga in other media. And the fact it could make me feel that… that’s special to me. I know I’ve talked about some heavy topics and I do hope I was as respectful as I possibly could be. Opening up like this was hard for me. 

As I do truly love this series and hoped I could illustrate why it resonated with me, perhaps it resonated with a lot of people who can see themselves in this one trashy boy.

I hope everyone reading can have that sort of character they see themselves in, and if you enjoyed please like or reblog as it tells me you'd be interested in reading more

[fangdokja]

"I learned to love writing the hard way: by fixing everyone else’s mess."

❤︎ Synopsis. Every writer starts somewhere—usually with a mess. This series reveals how embracing the chaos of bad drafts is the first step to creating something brilliant. Get ready to dig through the dirt and strike gold.

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

♡ Series. From Crap to Craft: The Writer's Journey - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 1,038

♡ Banner's Story. He’s the savior of many—but your destruction is his true mission.

♡ Storytime: From Loathing to Loving Writing.

Do you want to know a fun fact about me? I hated writing. Yes, the person who spends hours crafting intense, darkly seductive stories with complex yanderes? That same person used to despise writing.

Why? Group projects.

Picture this: I was a straight-A student surrounded by group mates who thought "collaboration" meant dumping their half-baked work on me. I’d end up doing the research, writing, editing, and basically carrying the whole project on my back. The cherry on top? Their contributions were often so horrendous I had to rewrite everything. Imagine editing sentences that felt like they’d been written in a foreign language and translated back into English by a broken AI. Editing, in those days, was far more grueling than writing. It was like polishing rocks and calling them diamonds.

This relentless cycle of frustration turned me against writing. What was once a childhood joy—scribbling poems and whimsical tales—became something I dreaded. But as ironic as it sounds, that experience became a cornerstone of who I am today. It forced me to hone my skills, learn to write under pressure, and develop an editor’s razor-sharp eye. It was tough love from God, but it worked. Writing research papers taught me rigor, structure, and discipline, which now underpin everything I create—whether it’s a yandere villain’s confession or a psychological deep dive into their madness.

So why tell you all this? Because sometimes, you have to churn out the garbage before you strike gold. It’s not just a personal truth—it’s a universal one. Let’s dig into why this mindset is essential and how you can embrace it.

♡ The Gold Starts with Crap.

Here’s the brutal truth: your favorite creators, the ones you place on pedestals, didn’t start with polished brilliance. They started with messy drafts, scrapped ideas, and work that made them cringe. And you know what? That’s okay. Because even the work you think is trash—the stuff you want to bury under ten layers of “never show anyone”—has value.

I’ve written pieces I was certain would get nothing but side-eyes, only for readers to hail them as incredible. Why? Because as creators, we’re cursed with the hyper-critical lens that magnifies flaws and downplays strengths. This isn’t just a quirk—it’s a survival tool for growth. But left unchecked, it’ll stifle you.

The antidote? Accept that writing crap is not just inevitable—it’s necessary.

♡ Why Writing Crap Matters.

It Breaks the Perfectionism Cycle

Perfectionism is like a envious lover, whispering that if you’re not flawless, you’re worthless. Don’t listen. Waiting for perfection paralyzes creativity. Writing crap is your way out. It’s messy, yes, but it’s progress. Let go of the need to be perfect on the first try.

It’s a Foundation, Not a Finish Line

Think of your first draft as raw ore. Nobody expects glittering gold straight out of the ground. Crap drafts are the bedrock of greatness—something to chisel, shape, and refine until the masterpiece emerges.

It Builds Momentum

Writing is a habit, and habits thrive on momentum. Even if your words feel like they belong in the trash, the act of writing keeps you moving. And movement is the enemy of stagnation.

♡ Practical Tips to Embrace Writing Crap.

Set Low-Stakes Goals

Aim for something manageable: 500 words a day, a single scene, or even 15 minutes of freewriting. The goal isn’t brilliance; it’s consistency. Quantity leads to quality, but only if you’re willing to show up.

Separate Writing and Editing

Editing while drafting is like trying to sculpt a masterpiece out of wet clay while the wheel is still spinning. Stop it. Write first. Get it all down—ugly, clunky, imperfect. Save the sculpting for later.

Use Timed Writing Sprints

Set a timer for 15-30 minutes and write without pausing. Don’t overthink. Don’t backtrack. Just write. This strategy forces you to bypass your inner critic and let the ideas flow.

Acknowledge the Ugly Process

Nobody’s first draft is perfect. Not yours, not mine, not your favorite author’s. The magic happens in the revision stage, but you can’t revise a blank page. Embrace the suck and move forward.

Focus on Progress, Not Perfection

Celebrate the small wins: finishing a chapter, hitting a word count, or completing a scene. Progress is progress, and it deserves to be acknowledged.

♡ Building Habits for Long-Term Success.

Write Every Day (or Close to It)

Even if it’s just a sentence. Consistency matters more than volume. Writing regularly trains your brain to show up, even when inspiration doesn’t.

Create a Ritual

Light a candle, make a cup of tea, or play a specific playlist. Establishing a ritual signals your brain that it’s time to write. Over time, this becomes a powerful trigger for creativity.

Learn to Love Rewriting

Editing is where the magic happens. Once you’ve laid down the bones, you can add flesh, polish the details, and bring your vision to life. But first, you need something to work with.

Find Your “Why”

Why do you write? To tell stories? To escape? To connect? Keep your purpose front and center. It’ll help you push through the messy drafts and stay motivated.

Surround Yourself with Support

Join writing communities, find critique partners, or follow creators who inspire you. Seeing others struggle and succeed reminds you that you’re not alone.

Sometimes, the journey to brilliance starts with a mess. Every masterpiece begins as a draft that might feel unbearable to the creator. But that’s the process—the secret sauce. You write crap. Then you refine it. And then? You strike gold.

So, stop waiting for the perfect sentence. Write the messy one. Dig through the dirt. The gold is there, waiting for you to unearth it.

────────────

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[fandxmslxt69]

I'm Proud of You

Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

Warnings: Suggestions at problematic friends/family/people. Loki's over-protectiveness, maybe? Swearing, um. Probably a lot of bad sentence structure and grammar and horrible flow if that bothers anyone

A/N: This is shitty and really absolutely horrible and trash, it's 2:20am, I'm tired and I feel so fucking drained and I'm so done with everyone, and I guess Loki's who I always turn to in shitty times. I might take this down later, given how I wrote it in like an hour and it's probably sooo OOC, but I needed some comfort, so here's this I guess? If you're having a hard day, or have been having a hard time, please know that you're amazing and if no one's told you, I'm proud of you for being here <3 -Clem

Synopsis: Loki's there, through the good and the bad.

Word count: 1.5k

Fucking stupid. 

You slammed the door to your room, feeling tears sting your eyes. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this hurt, but you genuinely couldn’t ease the ache in your chest, and as hard as you wiped at your eyes, the tears just fell down your face. You felt a sob build up your throat as you collapsed on your bed, the exhaustion of the day finally washing over you. Today was supposed to be a good day. It wasn’t meant to end with you crying. You crawled up to your pillow, burying your face in it as you cried your heart out.  Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

You couldn’t stop the sobs ripping out of you no matter how hard you tried. It’s stupid, you shouldn’t be crying over something so small, but sometimes it just hits and you just can’t stop it. You had no idea how long you sat there crying, but your loud sobs slowly turned into quiet hiccups and gasps, and your flowing tears became sniffles and painful breathing. It was like everything hurt, and somehow even after all those tears shed, your eyes still watered whenever you thought about it. 

You sniffled, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling of your room. This is fucking stupid. 

Doesn’t mean it hurt any less. You wiped your cheeks, taking a deep breath. 

Okay. It’s fine. This is fine. 

You stared at your room, your breathing slowly down as you worked through the last bit of emotional troubles. You blinked once, twice, and suddenly you were hyper aware of how alone you were, of how it reminded you of all those times you cried quietly in the bathroom so no one could hear you. 

Huh. 

You let out a sort of half laugh that dissolved into another sob as fresh tears sprung in your eyes. 

Alone. 

Just like always. 

You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes, trying to stop yourself from another breakdown, but you could feel your cheeks getting wet as you curled up on yourself, knees pulled tightly to your chest as a new wave of sobs wracked through your body. You didn’t realise someone had entered your room until you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, moving down to rub your back softly. You gasped quietly, surprised by the touch until you looked up and saw Loki smiling softly. “I-” You started, your voice raw from crying, but Loki only shook his head.  “Sh, it’s alright,” He scooted closer onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. You sobbed harder as he flooded your senses- his lingering scent of leather and earth, his touch making your skin buzz with joy. The tears came faster now as you buried your face in his chest, fisting his shirt tightly. 

Loki. 

Loki, here. Right now. 

You felt a sense of relief crash through your system as you melted completely into him, your body moulding against his as he stroked your hair and whispered soft things to you, his hold on you tight and secure. 

Loki. Loki. Loki.

Loki. 

His name rang through your head a dozen times, as if your brain was trying to process the fact that he was here. 

Loki didn’t let go of his tight hold on you until your sobs faded into ragged breathing and sniffles. He pulled away just a little to look at you properly, his hand coming up to wipe your cheeks. 

“My beautiful girl,” He pressed a kiss to your head. “Who’s making you cry, darling, hm?” His voice was soft, loving and easy like it always was, but you could swear up and down that there was something angry hiding behind it, and when you looked up at him properly, you were absolutely certain his eyes were storming with a growing anger.  Is he angry at me? You thought, but then his gaze softened as if he heard you, and he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “You can take your time, yes? I’ll wait until you want to talk,” You shake your head, “Don’t wanna talk about it,” “Alright, that’s perfectly fine. You know I’d never ask you to tell me something you don’t want to share,” He smiled then, but there was something twisted about it. “But, if someone is making my precious goddess hurt like this, and cause her such distress, I’ll need a story eventually,” “Why?” You hiccuped, resting your head on his chest as you fiddled with the hem of his shirt. You could feel the last of your breakdown work its way through your systems, and being in Loki’s arms helped. “So you could go beat them up?”

He stayed quiet, and your head snapped up to look at him. “Loki.”  “Yes, darling?” He tried to feign an innocent look.  “You can’t go beating up people,” “But I won’t. Beating up is a truly ugly way of saying it. I’d never “beat up” someone. It’s disgraceful to my title as a god,”  You shake your head again, wiping the last of your tears from your eyes. “Still can’t hurt people,” “Why not? They hurt you,” “Yeah but-” “But?” “It’s unethical?” You tried to reason.  He raised an eyebrow. “Right,” He absolutely did not sound convinced. 

In all honesty, at the back of your mind, you really didn’t have much against him going out after them. Well, maybe not to kill them, but maybe a little chat. It was kind of…romantic? Hot? That he was ready to shed blood just at the sight of you in tears. You sighed, the simple act of thinking thoughts making you feel heavy. You wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. “I’m so tired,” You mumbled.  “Did you sleep last night?” “Not that kind of tired,”

You felt exhausted just having this conversation.

“Ah, I see. How about….we cuddle and sleep, and then,” He kissed your forehead again. “When you wake up, I’ll run you a bath, and get you some food, and if you feel ready to talk, we’ll talk. If not, we can do…anything else you wish to do,” He smiled. “What do you think?”

Your heart squeezed. We. We. We. We. 

He was a part of you, even on the bad days.

“Okay,” You nodded slowly. “Sounds good,” With a snap of his fingers, he had you changed out of your regular clothes and into the comfiest PJs you had. He didn’t even bother detaching himself, simply lifting you up with him as he moved into the bed properly and laying down, his body pressed as close to yours as possible. You didn’t really talk much after that, just laying together in bed as you felt the day catch up to you as your mind drifted in and out of sleep. Loki held you tight, peppering kisses anywhere he could. 

“I know you think the world’s out for you,” He said softly. You hummed, his words slowly processing through your sleepy brain. “I thought so too. But then, I met you,” He rubbed your sides. “And things were still hard, and it was still painful, but I was given someone to share that pain with. Someone who could ease the ache a little and make it easier to breathe,” His voice dropped to a gentle whisper as you pressed closer to him, his words wrapping around your heart as you yawned lightly. “I know you’re hurting, and I know sometimes it’s too much to share, but I hope you know that whatever it is that bothers you, you can tell me. And,” He tightened his hold on you, smiling a little when he realised you were half way asleep. “I hope you know that I’m incredibly proud of you, my little mortal, for being so strong despite it all. You helped me learn so much, and you gave me a new reason to live. You’re beautiful, kind and so talented. I’m proud of you for everything you do- even something as little as drinking water.  I love you more than you could possibly know,” You reached up and covered his face with your hand in a bad attempt to stop him from talking. You still felt shitty, and something in you still hurt, but his words seemed to almost…crack through that, and plant a little piece of happiness in there.  He laughed, taking your hand and kissing it. “What was that one quote? The one people use all the time?” You hummed sleepily. “Dunno,” He paused, thinking, before his eyes sparked with realisation. “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” He kissed your hand again.  You chuckled softly, before yawning again. “Oh, that one,” That was cute. “So cheesy,”  “Right, I’ll stop talking then,” He pulled you closer. At this rate, he might just be trying to absorb your soul into him.  “I like hearing you talk though,” You squeezed his hand lightly. “Then we’ll talk plenty more later,” He kissed your head again, and you smiled softly as sleep started to wash over you.

Breakdowns really were draining. 

“I absolutely adore you, my perfect girl,” He said, and as you fell asleep, you couldn’t help but think, you’re not alone anymore. 

Loki was here. 

Loki was always here.

[2w1ld3st-2dr3ams]

𝔻𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝟙: ℍ𝕪𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕤

K!nkt0ber Day 1: Hybrids

➸ Muse 1: Tomioka Giyuu (Demon Slayer)

➸ WC: 3.3k

➸ CW: Cow Hybrid!Giyuu, mentions of pornography (or a raunchy scene in a movie), inexperienced Giyuu, mentions of past abuse, fluffy shit all things considered, a lot of boob stuff, TLDR: Just milking Cow Giyuu's tits and there's feelings in there.

➸ Mumbles: Recycling baby (this was meant for last year, help me) Also, an excuse to write for Giyuu tits tbh.

It wasn't often that you heard rustling in your backyard, given that you didn't have any pets and wild animals weren't anywhere near your house. Perhaps it was your neighbor's dog or that one raccoon you saw stuffing it's face with garbage nearby that one time. Either way, you didn't particularly like the idea of something rummaging through your backyard, especially if that thing decided your backyard would make an adequate toilet. God knows you had one to many debates with your neighbors about their animal's bathroom habits and, in your personal opinion, too little time had passed between the last one and this up and coming one.

Whatever the reason, you decided it was better if you shooed the little critter out yourself. If you caught it early enough, maybe you could persuade it to leave it's business elsewhere, preferably not in your recently remodeled backyard. You grabbed a nearby broom to shoo the animal away and begrudgingly made your way to the origin of the sound. When you got there, however, all that greeted you was the stillness of nature and a prominent hole near one of your recently planted bushes. This, in turn, damaged the structure your bushes were resting on and managed to make one fall over. As you could imagine, there was an even more sizable hole in your backyard now, not to mention the de-rooted bush that lay so pathetically on its side.

Irritated by the revelation of such sabotage against your hard work, you made your way back to your house to look for your tools—the faster you took care of the now ruined section, the faster you could set up some proper fencing to stop any further incidents. You quickly zoned out as you got to work, trying not to think of the culprit of this crime most likely laughing at your agony or the fact that you were feeling very strongly over a simple hole. Just as you were finishing the maintenance and re-planting the bush, you noticed some rapid movement out of the corner of your eye. A flash of hair was escaping the corners of your vision when you turned your head towards the movement. All you could figure out from all the rapid head turning was a scurrying tuff of dark hair that seemingly swayed with hurry.

You, of course, deducted that whatever that was had to be connected to your backyard. It was a rather large animal too, considering the size and quantity of the hair. You couldn't think of many animals near your area that would match the description, so you settled on incriminating the little trash eater that still made such a ruckus at night. Deciding to leave the thought of sentencing animals like a judge aside, you made your way back inside once you had finished packing your tools away. You would go visit the town center and find some fences tomorrow, today you had promised one of your neighbors that you would dog-sit while they went on a weekend getaway with their boyfriend.

A few hours later, you found yourself hiking to your house as exhaustion was dragging you down by your hairs. Any chiropractor or orthopedic would be cringing at your posture right now, your back almost made a perfect arc forward and your head was inching closer to the ground. Your neighbors dog was adorable and you didn't mind doing them a favor every now and then, but if you heard that damm dog bark at the wind outside one more time you would've lost your sanity. Apparently, all the other dogs of the neighborhood had been feeling some sort of way about the outside of their comfortable homes at exactly the same time. You would hear a cacophony of barks during the late evening and sit there rethinking your choice of living situation.

Through the snippets of conversation your tired ears caught, your neighborhood was being haunted by…something. You weren't sure if haunted was the right word, more like invaded. There had been multiple reports of something terrorizing people's backyards and an increase in black-haired-animal sightings nearby. Considering a possible raccoon infestation, you made a beeline to your backyard, getting anxious by the second that your little thief-cosplaying friend had decided to pay you another visit. The noise you made clearly scared whatever was inhabiting your garden, as you heard a very pronounced "Ah!" coming from the darkness.

Instead of being greeted with a chubby, short, and dual-colored cretin, you were greeted with a very naked man sporting peculiar cow ears and horns and a matching tail. He was in a horrible state, if being publicly naked wasn't bad enough, sporting a variety of bruises in an array of tones. His chest area was especially bruised, sporting what appeared to be suction marks around his nipples. He was, rightfully, terrified, his face contorting into a mixture of fear and regret. The one thing you noticed about him the most, however, was that peculiar head of very prominent black hair that almost camouflaged into the darkness of the night.

Your first thought was relief, since you finally had a face to the culprit of the crime scene that you had just cleaned up hours prior. Your second thought was checking what you last ate and drank in the last 24 hours. After making sure you didn't consume any hallucinogenic substances, you turned your attention back to the man—half man was probably a better way to put it. You couldn't get a proper word out before the being in front of you began rapid-firing apologies and explanations. You couldn't make out very much from his…eloquent speech, apart from the words "farm", "mistreatment", "hybrid", and "escaped".

Though not much information was supplied, it was enough for you to put two and two together. Plus, if the continuously frequent visits from men in uniforms asking about "a missing product" told you anything, this farm had located him and was currently hunting him down. Now, you weren't educated in the laws about half human-half animal people, but you were fair to assume that whatever was happening at his farm was against a bunch of workplace regulations. You did your best to bring the now hyperventilating man to your house without causing too much suspicion, which was noticeable hard to do considering how sketchy it would look to see your neighbor's silhouette dragging something prominently non-human back to their house. Nevertheless, you both made it inside without anybody calling out to you, which you would take as a victory.

First order of business now, get some clothes on the poor man. It was decently into the nighttime now, the poor thing must've been freezing. You told him to sit down near the heating device while you went and got some clothes and blankets for him. You got him one of your old shirts as well as some sweatpants and underwear. While making sure he was comfortable and warm, you started making light conversation just to fill in the air. You weren't sure what to do in a situation like this, so maybe eradicating the silence would make you think better. Your efforts were wasted on him though, as he looked down at his lap with a perfectly sculpted neutral expression.

Deciding to let him be, you got up and cooked the both of you some food. You made sure to avoid steak or dairy products, half out of respect and half out of dumbfoundedness. You sat down next to him and handed him his food, which he immediately dropped. Startled and a bit offended, you asked him why he did that. He responded with that neutral face, perhaps sporting hints of embarrassment, that his muscle function was heavily underused thanks to the abuse he endured back at the farm and that it would take a while before he got full control over his actions. It made you question how he could've made such a sizable hole in your backyard, but you were too tired to question him about it. Your half-asleep mind came up with a brilliant solution to his dilemma, fortunately.

Picking up your fork, you pricked a bit of food and brought it to his lips. Surprised adorned his face for seconds before he hesitantly opened his mouth, allowing you to feed him. You went slow, matching his pace and letting him tell you when he wanted another bite. It was serene, an act of kindness that the hybrid in front of you probably hadn't felt in a long time.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

Giyuu didn't register when his adoration for you intensified to what it was today. He remembered the night when you first met very clearly, as it managed to break down every single prejudice he had about himself in mere hours. You were so gentle with him, so patient and loving, even when he had dropped your food and messed up your backyard. You didn't send him back to that place, you never even pressured him to tell you about it.

By this point, he had been living with you for about a year and a half now; it melted his heart that you wanted him to stay and hadn't kicked him out yet, but it also made his ever-growing feelings for you fester for longer. It scared him, being so close to you. Closeness back at the farm meant he had broken a rule and was about to be punished, it meant torture and nights spent crying until he had no more left to give. Closeness with you, however, felt like home. Home, what a funny word indeed.

He felt close to you when you both sat down by the heating device that night you met, knees almost touching due to the proximity; he felt at home with you when you softly brought food to his lips, letting him know you were willing to cooperate with him in the moment. He felt close to you when he was cowering into your chest because of a nightmare, reduced to a sobbing mess of tears; he felt at home with you when you gently cradled his head in your hands, wiping his tears away and promising that he was safe with you. He felt close to you when he let you touch his horns, bowing his head to you in an act of submission; he felt at home with you when you traced over his horns like they were made out of porcelain, like if the man in front of you deserved nothing but the softest of touches.

You were his home, the place he could run to without judgement, the place where he knew he wouldn't be shunned or thrown away. Naturally, Giyuu wanted to repay you; old habits die hard and this one just happened to be learned back at the farm. He knew that relying on his instinct for this wouldn't get across his point though, so he had to formulate something else.

He thought for days about a variety of presents he could give you, but none of them seemed perfect enough. You had enough home decorations, he couldn't cook all that well to make you something, you had made it clear to him that you didn't want a maid much less try and use him for food, he didn't know how much he wanted to risk going outside with you; there were so many discarded options he was beginning to get overwhelmed. He could always offer you his body, but he wasn't quite sure how to approach that subject. Sex and intimacy back at the farm where basically two different worlds; where there was one, the other couldn't be. He couldn't give you something as bland as a sexual experience, you could get those for less than he was offering you and with much more experienced people.

Why was this so hard? All he had to do was thank you for everything you'd done for him and then give you something in return, why was he fretting so much over this? He looked at you in search for something that might help him figure out what he could give you—and accidently stumbled upon the perfect gift. You were staring at the TV screen, soft eyed and sporting a stupidly lovesick grin, as some movie played on the screen. Said movie just happened to include a couple's first time, and they couldn't have been more awkward about it. Still, the way each touch they made radiated love and adoration was making you giddy. Giyuu saw how much fun the couple seemed to be having, even though they had failed to advance below the waist for the past 45 minutes or so, and could instantly feel his cheeks heating up. Did you want something like this?

It was a little overwhelming, you see. Giving you his all, his most vulnerable, and recieving the same from you? Being treated so gently, so softly, so…human. The image on the screen flashed to a shot of a pair of hands slowly carresing and fondling with the chest of the other, taking time to squeeze them and tease their partner. Giyuu looked back at you and saw you with a slightly darker hue adorning your cheeks. Huh, he might've just found his gift for you…and all thanks to some random Saturday night movie.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

You came home from a night out to a completely silent house. Yeah, Giyuu wasn't known for being loud, but he would at least have something playing in the background while he went about his day. Sometimes you would catch him humming some tune you've never heard before, but it never failed to make your day. You put your bag down, took of your shoes, and traveled deeper into the empty house. Once you reached your bedroom door, you began getting suspicious. Did he run away? Was he unhappy here? Was he playing a prank on you? Did the people looking for him miraculously find him? You hadn't seen him since you set foot in your house and you couldn't distinguish even one sign of life anywhere.

Still, your concern was overpowered by your tiredness, so you promptly entered your bedroom and passed out almost immediately. You swore you would never underestimate how soft your bed could be again; it felt like you were sleeping on a very fluffy cloud. As you dozed off, you failed to notice the door of your bathroom door opening and closing, a figure now ocuppying the space in front of it. Your lost roommate was blinking down at you in confusion; you weren't supposed to fall asleep this early, were you seriously that tired? His plan of recreating the movie scene failed, and that stung a bit, but you looked so comfortable drooling on your pillow that he let you be.

Though, he couldn't help but sit down next to your pillow, pushing his thighs together until they sort or replicated it. He had done his own research, no matter how long it took him to figure out how to work your computer, and found that humans liked resting their head on soft things. And if you asked him, his thighs were pretty soft. Slowly, almost as if he wasn't even moving at all, he managed to position your head on his thighs, moving the pillow away from you. It was a different touch than what he was used to, the blades of the machines never felt quite as soft as your hair on his skin. He looked down at your sleeping face, scrunched up yet so peaceful, and he couldn't stop the strange warmth that invaded his chest. He never understood you fully, but having you here with him was enough for now. Even if he had planned for something completely different, this wasn't so bad either.

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

You don't remember your pillow being so warm, and so soft. Slowly shifting to lay on your stomach, you wrapped your arms around your comfortable pillow and snuggled into its warmth.

Oh how you couldn't be more wrong.

Giyuu was both flabbergasted and appreciative. You looked like you were having the best sleep of your life, but the way you hugged onto his hips and how your lips would occationally graze his thighs had him more worked up than he wanted to admit. There was a faint ache in his chest, different from the mushy feeling he felt. This one was a bit more painful, as if something was messing with his chest. He knew that feeling all too well. It was the same feeling he got right before those suctioning cups were placed on his chest.

Maybe, releaving himself a bit wouldn't hurt—at least, not more than the pain he was in right now. Holding in his milk wasn't healthy and, no matter how badly we wanted to keep this from you, he also didn't want to wake you up. So, he relied on his instincts to guide his hand down towards his nipples, a wet stain on the shirt he was wearing. He flicked one of his nipples over the shirt, stain becoming just a tad bit bigger as he could feel the liquid drip down his chest and abdomen. He bit his lips hard, attempting to muffle any noises that fell out of his lips. He swore he didn't sound so sinful back on the farm.

"Ngh~"

You turned back around, laying on your back once more before yawning. You felt something wet fall on your tongue.

Was that…milk?

Your face scrunched, confused as to why your saliva tasted like milk. There was also something dripping on your face. Did you sleepwalk outside again or was there a leak in your roof? You slowly opened your eyes, bothered by the constant droplets on your face which broke the very nice dream you were having. Instead of being greeted by another hole—you were starting to notice a pattern—you were greeted by the sight of Giyuu's chest slightly covering your vision as his hands teased and played with his chest. Your ears, which were apparently not working before, suddenly decided to bless you with the sound of soft moans and wanton whimpers, a few keens here and there when his fingers did a particularly rough motion.

What a wonderful sight to wake up to.

"A-ah! P-please~"

He didn't even know what he was begging for, but it only made his motions become rougher. He was in too deep to notice that you had opened your eyes and had shifted your head off his lap. That is, until he felt your hand on his shoulder. He turned his head towards you, eyes dazed yet holding a twinge of panic. Still, he couldn't stop his fingers from moving across his chest, moaning shamelessly. He was panting like he ran a marathon, chest swollen and a bit heavy.

"Y-you're awake! I have a—mphm!—g-gift for you!"

He managed to get out through his moans. With a not-quite-all-there smile, he pushed his tits together. You could see why they were so heavy now, as milk seemed to endlessly pour down his chest. He leaned forward slightly, allowing a perfect view of his cleavage. He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes, a dumb smile on his face.

"I-I saw how much you seemed to like that—ngh!—s-scene in that m-movie the other day, so…"

Well, he didn't need to tell you twice. He let out a loud keen once you attached your mouth to his nipple, tongue running over the sensitive bud while you teased more milk out of his chest. The sounds he was making were glorious, and you were quite thirsty after that long nap…

Oh well, he'd have to sit still and pretty for a few hours while you got your fill.

[owlchimedes]

Any study/homework tips? Especially when it come to writing a essay?

I can definitely share what works for me! I generally feel that there are 3 types of essay assignment, so I'll break this answer into parts. I'm assuming your essays are untimed and can be written in advance.

General Persuasive Essay:

Could be a unit assignment, midterm paper, or a chiller final. Generally 2-6 pages with moderate sourcing (3-5 new sources per page).

Personally, I like to assemble all my arguments first. Think of it like a pearl necklace -- imagine what you want your essay to prove ("X is Y") and then gather thoughts and evidence supporting that: quotes, articles, journals, statistics, etc. These are your pearls. Once you have enough of them to meet the page count -zip- all you need to do is thread them together with explanations and transitions.

For me, this looks like a very messy trash document filled with nonsensical shorthand and meticulous citations exactly how I'm supposed to use them in-text for the paper and for the final bib. If your teacher wants Chicago, or MLA, or APA, be sure to use that from the get go. The best parts are that 1) you know exactly where to go to double check something, 2) you don't need to look anything up again, 3) you've already written your bibliography.

For me, a doc might look like:

"72% of people can detect fake statistics" (Example, et al. 2025 404-405) ... "what, you egg?" (Macbeth 4.2.94)... [NEED MORE SUPPORT HERE] "cat's toe beans can absorb 5.44 lbs/cm of force" (Akename, F. in Purrrfect: A Science Tail 2013 p. 102) [TIE BACK TO 3RD PARAGRAPH]

You get the idea. Messy, but helpful. I like to copy-paste each 'pearl' into a clean document that holds the actual essay as I write it. You probably won't use every piece of evidence you have, but it's better to have a lot to choose from than to be staring at a blank page trying to write. Collecting evidence this way is particularly helpful if you know ahead of time that you need to do a paper, because then you can add tabs or highlight materials as you read them, cutting your workload in half. Generally, unless I'm totally unfamiliar with the field, I try to roughly know my final essay topic on the 2nd day of class and then start putting things in the messy doc when I find them. If it's not in the syllabus, ask your teachers about the final prompts. The worst they can say is no.

One of the great things about the process is that it skips the paralysis of a 'draft'. There is no draft here because there is no writing. Ideally, you should have 0 of your own words on the page -- only pulls and quotes. You'll paraphrase and rearrange things later. Don't copy paste directly into your essay; even with citations, that's plagiarism. Don't use first-person unless your teacher explicitly says it's okay.

Once you have all your content, structuring it may seem difficult.

I taught the TISAS model (also sometimes known as TISAC). This stands for topic sentence, introduction, supporting evidence, analysis, & summary (or conclusion). For clarity here, I'll use TISAC.

The TISAC is a simple paragraph structure model for beginner writers, but can also apply to longer and more complex writings. The standard 5-paragraph paper form taught in most middle- and high-schools is a simple nested form: TI TISAC TISAC TISAC C. The pattern of topic sentence and introduction, three evidence paragraphs, and a final summary is clear. More complex writings may add more evidence to the same point: TISAISAISAC. Thus, the amount of evidence and analysis can be endless, but must always be bracketed by clear topic sentences and conclusions. You can also vary the amount of information on any one topic; all paragraphs do not need to be the same length. More supporting evidence often leads to stronger persuasion or proof, though if there is enough of it, a reader may require mini-summaries to keep track of what it going on: TI TI(SAISAC TISAC)C TISAC C. It's clear that these elements can be combined endlessly to whatever length and complexity is required. Overall, TISAC is a straightforward set of building blocks that serve both beginner and advanced persuasive writers.

The format of the above is TISAISAISAC.

Introductions and topic sentences benefit greatly from the use of transition words, which flag to the reader (and to you) exactly what you're trying to do with the information you've presented. All evidence should be cited correctly. Obviously, TISAC is a little cramped on style and not perfectly suitable for heavily data-based work or more lyric, narrative, or artistic writing. Keep in mind though, 'evidence' can be a graph, an image glossary, an appendix, or many other formats.

Reflective Essay:

Unlike the persuasive essay, this type is entirely first-person, focused on YOU and your own thoughts, experiences, and takeaways. These tend to be the first and/or last assignment in a class, and are usually 1-5 pages with minimal to moderate sourcing (1-3 sources per page).

For course/project reviews, make sure to cover all the topics in ASSASSIN: Anticipations, Surprises, Strengths, Awkward points, Struggles, Show an example, "In conclusion", and Next time.

You can organize your thoughts chronologically or by theme. Longer papers work better as chronological.

Get a sense of what your teacher likes. If a prof. is proud of a certain thing, don't bash it. If they expressed disappointment in an outcome, agree with them. Don't come off as smarmy, but this is the easiest way to an A.

Do not use AI. In general, don't, but especially for reflective papers. AI is trained on models of the external world --it has no clue about your private internal world or what the class was like. It's guesses will be wrong and it only takes one or two incorrect details for your professor to realize you didn't write the paper. Even with careful proofreading, it's not worth the risk.

Research Essay:

These tend to be longer papers, possibly a course final or graduation checkpoint (qualification exams/thesis), meant to show how well you know the literature and materials as well as your ability to argue. Usually 5-100+ pages with moderate to max sourcing (4-10 sources per page). I use the same general process as for any persuasive essay, but make sure to use a reference management software instead of a single document. Mendeley, Zotero, RefWorks, and EndNote are the ones I've noticed most among my peers. Zotero was a godsend for my thesis.

Lab reports are a whole different beast, so I didn't discuss them here. Good luck!

[chil-aglia]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 |ROTTMNT| (Leo X Male OC)

𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐡𝐨𝐩

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

Adriaen briefly yawns, he didn’t get much sleep when all he could dream about was that strange door, at this point he’s gotten used to seeing the structure, even so, it still had him lying awake or stirring in his sleep. 

Then he was called out of bed to help with the mission that they’ve been working on for the past week. Honestly, Adriaen found this mission that the brothers came up with a little strange and bluntly, stupid.

Shouldn’t they prep for their other mission of getting more webs from Big Mama?

Oh well, didn’t matter now as they were already outside the Grand Nexus Hotel, waiting for their suspect.

Each turtle was assigned to a space, Donnie stuck to the west side of the roofs, Raph at the south, Leo in the east, Mikey to the north.

Adriaen was assigned to watch the front. He was bored out of his mind, and tired overall.

“Purple Rain, do you see the target? Purple Rain?" Raph’s voice echoed into the earpiece they all had for communication that Donatello designed. But Donnie wasn’t responding, at least not in the way that Raphael was appreciative of.

“As we pan across the asphalt savanna, we find the noble Bullhop. Survival in these cruel streets will require harnessing all of his fine-tuned natural instincts."

Adriaen sighs and shakes his head. Donnie of course had to be monologuing as if he was a narrator of a wildlife documentary.

He couldn’t tell what exactly happened but close by he heard multiple car alarms and lights go off, as well people in buildings nearby getting woken up.

What the…?

“And the king of all vertical veldt will go hungry again—“

Adriaen spoke up, interrupting Donatello. “Don, focus. You’re not David Attenborough. Just tell us where you see the target.”

Donnie huffs and responds back, “Why must you always put science on the back burner!?”

With a hefty sigh he added into his sentence, “Bullhop is in the alleyway by Big Mama’s hotel! Happy?" He hissed to which Adriaen smirked lightly and nods, even though the soft-shell mutant couldn’t see it.

”I am, actually.”

”All right guys, let’s meet up with Donnie.” Raph informs to which Adriaen turns off the earpiece and quickly jumps off onto the roofs and headed towards Donnie’s direction.

When they all arrive, Donnie gestured to the trash bin in the alley way, making the five stroll their way through and stand in front of the trash. 

Mikey gave a thump on the lid as Adriaen heard Bullhop let out as brief surprise “what?” and poked his head through. He didn’t have time to register who it was as Leo quickly puts a sack over the mutant's head. Which wasn’t the best idea as Bullhop freaked out and tries to run away.

"Ah! You’ll never take me!"

Tripping over his hooves he bumps into some trash cans and falls on his face, blacking out. Adriaen placed a hand on his hip and stared down at the unconscious mutated bull.

”Well that was easy.”

"Ugh. Now I’m not going to get to test my tranquilizer." Donnie groaned out, complaining. But of course, his intrusive thoughts won as he aims his tranq gun and shot at Raphael who flinched before falls down.

”Donnie!” Leo scolds his brother who quickly hid the weapon into his battle shell. “What? I wanted to test it out.” He explains, Adriaen standing next to the red slider with a deadpan look.

”Okay, fine. You, can carry Raph then.”

Donnie slightly pales as he knew he was going to struggle with lifting his larger, heavier brother. “Fine…” He grumbles as Leo grins and nudged Adriaen. “You’re cruel.” He teases playfully, “Well you know what they say, you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.” 

He walks away to help Mikey take Bullhop, Leo blushed with a dreamy gaze. “Man I love you.” He mumbles to himself as he refocuses and helps his brother and Adriaen.

-----

They arrived back at the lair; Raph was the first to wake up. Confused but Adriaen explained what happened, before Raph could even scold his younger brother for tranquillising him. Bullhop stirs away, opening his eyes and looking around in utter puzzlement.

“Where am I?"

His eyes lands onto Leo who offered a small but welcoming smile.

"Hey, bud. You may not remember us..."

Bullhop quickly shot up, glaring at the five turtles. "Oh, I do! You’re those bug hunting buffoons who turned me into a klutzy bull!" He recalls to which Mikey innocently raised his hands up happily.

"He remembers us!”

Leo awkwardly chuckled, “Look, we were trying to stop the oozequitoes." He assures, his other brother Donnie butting in with his own mini explanation. "In fact, we, strike that, I, built this technological astounding bug slapper so we can catch them all."

Mikey nodded before holding up an empty canister, "But it's out of Big Mama’s web goo. So, fail." He sighs out with a slump to his shoulders, tossing aside the empty canister.

“Anywizzle, we feel pretty bad about what happened."

"So, we Mad Dogs, are gonna make it up to you."

Adriaen had his arms crossed and kept silent the whole time. He wasn’t all that thrilled with the brother's idea but when they voted, he was outnumbered.

“You mean, you’re just gonna be nice to me without expecting anything in return?” Bullhop inquired in amazement. The four brothers nodding in confirmation. “Wow. That’s how we do it in my native Etobicoke, Canada."

“Happy Bullhop appreciation day!"

Eugh boy…

And so, the turtles did their best to make Bullhop happy, giving him some grass, gave him a spa treatment and helped him play a dancing game. He tried to skate the ramp but fell due to his size, making a hole in the ramp and the skateboard flying and hitting Leo in the face.

The days went by, and his visit was worsening. He ate the pizza that Leo had baked, messed around in Donnie’s lab, ripped the shower curtain while taking a shower. 

Adriaen was also taking a bath one day, relaxing into the bubbles, until he jumped in shock when Bullhop slams open the door and was brushing his fur in the mirror. Adriaen felt his eye twitch as he groans and sunk fully down into the tub to avoid the mutant disaster.

Finally, everyone started to get very irritated while Bullhop broke the dance machine since he started to be an expert.

After days passed, Raph laid out the plan to enter Big Mama’s hotel in the kitchen.

"Okay, Big Mama's party's tonight. This is our chance to get some web goo. Here's the plan. We're going to dress as waiters, sneak past her. And nap the keys to the vault. Which she stores our goo. It’ll be like taking candy from—“

They got interrupted by a thumping noise, Adriaen blinking as he led the way and peeked into the living room, widening his eyes when he saw Bullhop doing jumping jacks, the place an absolute mess. He then sat down on the room chair and picked up a jug of milk before drinking and throwing it over him. The empty jug hits Donnie in the face with a thud.

“That’s it. He has to go."

Adriaen quickly nods in agreement.

”Definitely. I can’t stand him around.”

Raph hums but was also in agreement, “Yeah! We've gotta sneak into the party tonight. We can't leave him here and we sure can’t take him with us."

“But I feel terrible. We’re the ones who made him into this." Leo pouted, but fortunately Mikey was brave enough to step in. “Guys, I'm Dr. Delicate Touch. Let me handle this."

He walks away as Leo tilts his head at him, “Uh…should we stop him? You know how he is when he brings out Dr. Delicate Touch.” He questions, turning to look at everyone for their thoughts. Adriaen placed a comforting hand on Leo’s shoulder, surprising the mutant who blushed at the sudden contact.

”Leo…that’s exactly why Mikey needs to do this.”

With that, he, Donnie and Raph leave and head back into the kitchen. Leo decides to stay with Mikey to watch over him and Bullhop. 

Raph brought out a pizza box from yesterday and started eating, the three waiting for Mikey and Leo to return. "I don’t hear any sobbing, so it must be going okay. Unless he’s just crying silently on the inside." Raph hums in thought, chewing on a pizza slice as Adriaen and Donnie both share a look.

Mikey and Leo soon enter the kitchen, looking pleased with themselves. “Good, news guys! I totally punted. We’ll do our mission and deal with the unpleasantness later." Leo assured making his older brother smirk in eagerness to get the mission going.

"Okay. Let's get to Big Mama's Gala."

But when they head to their clothing rack that had the waiter outfits, they all stop and stare in bewilderment to see them shredded. Donnie being the only exception for not looking as he had his back turned.

Raph couldn’t help but give out a startled noise.

"I don’t even have to turn around to see how this turns out.”

Donnie calmly turns around, an unimpressed and not so surprised expression on his face. “Well, I’ve turned around and I see."

“Looks like Goldilocks tried on all your waiter outfits before he got to mine." Raph points out the obvious, "Would he really be insane enough to try to make up for everything by doing our dangerous mission on his own? Of course he would. Let's go." Leo scowls as he storms off to rescue the mutated bull.

Adriaen sighs, rubbing his temple before glaring lightly at the torn clothes. “I knew we shouldn’t have done this dumb Bullhop appreciation thing.” 

-----

Later, the five arrive at the Nexus Hotel. All on the roof looking through the glass skylight to observe the fancy party below. Bullhop was in the crowd holding a tray of food. He tripped when he took a step, dropping the drinks. He got back up and sighed in relief before quickly snatching another tray from another waiter who hadn’t noticed.

“Oh, man. I never should've told him our plan.” Leo groans, earning a sharp look from Adriaen who lightly whacked Leo upside the head. “You did what?!” He hisses at the turtle in blue who gave an awkward smile.

”Ugh…Donnie, what are the odds that this guy can succeed?” Adriaen turns his attention to the soft shell who raised his drawn-on eyebrows at him. 

“The guy once broke a pillow so…1%? He said overconfident?"

He’s doomed.

They look back at Bullhop who seemed to be talking to someone when he held a hand up to his ear. “Who’s he talking to?" Raph murmured in confusion, "I told him earlier that if he touched his ear, he could talk to anybody and the world.” He briefly and bluntly explains, earning a judging look from Raphael.

”I was trying to get some work done."

Mikey amusingly held a finger up to his head. "Roger that, Mr President."

Adriaen crossed his arms and kept his focus back on Bullhop, anxiously watching him walk around. He saw how Bullhop noticed a familiar large owl bellhop storing some webbings in a vault and locking it with a key.

Bullhop spoke to himself once more before making his way over. “Oh, I read his lips. He’s engaging. Perfect..." Donnie informs with a sarcastic and less enthusiastic tone. “So, who’s going to take responsibility for when he ends up captured?” Adriaen looks over to the brothers who whistle and avoid saying anything.

When he looked back down, he saw Big Mama in her human form appear in front Bullhop who looked utterly stunned as he turns away quickly. He trips over, sending the biscuits up in the air. Big Mama caught it with her mouth and dabbed it clean with a hanky.

The two conversed and whatever was being said, Mikey couldn’t help but shout out, as though Bullhop was able to hear him.

"Bullhop, don't blow your cover!”

It seems to have worked, whatever it was as Big Mama then drags Bullhop off to the dance floor.

"That is not good" Raph states but Adriaen hums in curiosity. “I mean…he was good at that dance game. Maybe he’ll be fine.”

Lights began to dim inside as the music started. They watch them dance on the dance floor as the crowd circle around them. Bullhop started off badly at first, but then he became confident with her, taking the lead. The mutant then threw Big Mama up in the air and dabbed.

"That boy can move, baby!" Mikey squeaks in amazement, and well, Adriaen admits that he was somewhat impressed too.

While dancing, Bullhop got closer to the bellhop owl and when he did so, he fell over with Big Mama still in his arms, face first. He managed to get back up with the keys with his right horn.

"He actually did it! He's got the keys. We've gotta get down there." Raph exclaims, leaning forward onto Leo and Adriaen who both got pressed up against the glass, their weight making the skylight window open and they give fall inside, crashing onto a buffet table.

“Well, that's the fast way down." Leo comments, a salad bowl on his head but he shook it off as they all froze when everyone was eyeing them in bewilderment.

"Guys, I've got the keys!” Bullhop shouts, dropping Big Mama and running over to them. "The Turtle boos. Get them!" Big Mama orders when she got back up, her little henchmen closing in on the five.

“Bullhop, the keys!” Mikey waved his arms out, running towards the vault. Bullhop tosses the key, having Mikey easily catch them. 

“Yes!"

Unfortunately for him, Big Mama slides in front of the vault with a narrow stare. 

"Hold them off! I'll get the goo!"

Mikey suddenly gets caught by the webbing from Big Mama and crashes into the wall, stuck in the goo. The brothers and Adriaen lightly gasp and watch Big Mama started to transform into her spider form.

“We’ve gotta get out of here!"

“What about the web goo?"

“We’ll get them some other way!"

Big Mama towers over the turtles, annoyance clear on her face. "Well, you little meddle doos. It’s time for you to find out why you don’t crash Big Mama’s box socials!" She hissed, ready to attack. Adriaen self-consciously held up his weapons towards her, ready to defend himself and the others.

“Hey, Big Mama!”

The sudden yell of Bullhop had everyone turn to stare sf him, watching how his bull form seemed to grow just a little larger as his costume rips off.

”You dance like you have eight feet!"

"So your feather feet mask a stanktonious traitor?!"

She lets out an ear-splitting shriek, spitting webs from her mouth, but Bullhop grabbed eight empty pitchers and caught them before he starts running away.

"Guys, I've got the eight pitches of goo!”

His clumsy form had him tripping over, breaking seven pitchers, managing to save just one. He quickly gets back up, “Guys, I've got one pitcher of goo! Let’s go!”

Leo had cut Mikey from the web cocoon as the five wasted no time on following Bullhop and escaping.

"Wait!” Big Mama shouts for them but she didn’t chase after.

When the brothers, Bullhop and Adriaen made it outside and away from the hotel safely, they started cheering. Leo giving a appreciative pat on the shoulder to Bullhop.

Raphael clears his throat, “Listen, uh…we’ve been thinking, and uh…” Raph tenses his body, gritting his teeth as Leo teasingly nudged his brother.

“Come on, Raph. You can do it."

"You’re welcome to stay with us anytime you want."

Adriaen was silently begging for Bullhop to decline the offer. “Hey, thanks guys! But you know, I was thinking I got to get myself together. I get to learn how to deal with…this whole situation.” 

Adriaen let out a breath of relief, “And I think I found the way. Through the dance! Mutant Canadian ballet!" Bullhop informs, giving a little ballet pose which honestly surprised the five before he waved bye and leaves the brothers and Adriaen who clap and wish him luck.

“That sounds great. Good for you." Leo praised lastly before they all let out a collective exhale. Mikey however quickly hollered out.

"You sure you don't want to join the Mad Dogs? Cause I was all set to kick Donnie out."

A tranq dart hits him and he passes out as Donnie looks away, holding the gun in hand.

”Seriously? That’s twice you’ve done that to your brother!”

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

A/N: I APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE REALLY FAST AND OFTEN DON'T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER.

Sorry if this was a lil short or not that great. But regardless I still hope you enjoyed it!

First Chapter here

Previous Chapter here

[senespera4]

I can't believe I have to post about this but the. The fucking-- Honkai Star Rail's writers are fucking insane and I have to write an analysis on the Literal Meme Update With The Funny Monkey Mascot

so uh spoilers for HSR version 2.6 Trailblaze Continuance, I swear I have an interesting angle with this (I'm only like halfway through the story too god fucking dammit)

This game has Opinions about educators and influencers and it is not afraid to be Extremely Blunt about how much they hate specific types of these "idea spreaders." I'm going to sort of work backwards from the point that I'm at (the reveal that Dr. Primitive is behind this) because I'm really just rambling right now and there's not much structure to this but I Need To Get My Thoughts Out

Dr. Primitive being involved in this isn't just an attempt to connect some tidbits from the Simulated Universe into the main story, I think they purposely chose him and this absurd and stupid banana theme because they wanted to comment on how when you have a bad "idea spreader" it's Bad bad. Dr. Primitive is positioned as an ultimate authority on knowledge by virtue of an Emanator, and yet his actions cause a reduction in knowledge because he is Actively causing people to regress back into monkeys.

This makes sense when you consider the two BananAdvisors you've fought up to this point in the story.

The first is a stubborn and close-minded art teacher, one that is clearly just attempting to spread their own propaganda about what art is truly worth something. They assign you a subject when the intent of the class is to paint something you want, they actively punish you for painting what you want, and instead of giving pointers on how to improve your art they will simply bash it and bash YOU until you have no motivation to continue. This fucking bitch did that shit to Chaletka Live and it was so infuriating to watch because you could just tell that he didn't care about her at all, all he wanted was Results. And if you can't produce results, you're a worthless piece of trash that shouldn't even exist in the first place.

The second is a fucking capitalist grifter-ass business professor who promotes extremely toxic "customer-first" paradigms that erode the worker and continuously consume them until there's nothing left. What's worse, his direct student is actively dragged into a similar mindset. Richie is Struggling, he is actively sacrificing his personal life for his business pursuits, believing that if he simply plays the capitalism game (and yes I am going to analyze this as anti-capitalist because I have an angle that HSR is an inherently anti-capitalist text I can't believe I'm fucking saying that that's such a stupid sentence) he will eventually reach success and happiness. As long as he pleases the customer, he will be successful. But the moment he outlives his usefulness, the moment he stops showing any sort of future promise to his employer, this is what happens

He is reduced to a mere resource sink, a mere datapoint on a spreadsheet which the accountant has decided is no longer producing enough profit to justify the costs. His humanity is stripped away, he is silenced, and worst of all he is coerced into doing so WILLINGLY because his employer and advisor and mentor manages to convince him that this is the right path for him, that he would be of more use to society as a speechless monkey than as a human with dreams and desires that are inconvenient for the business model.

This shit was the most infuriating thing to me. It reveals how the BananAdvisor knew EXACTLY what he was doing. He reduces Richie to something lesser, and acts surprised when you protest that he no longer has a voice because "things that are lesser naturally cannot speak." Because he made him that way. Because he purposely removed his ability to speak for himself.

I think the fact that the music continues to be the same goofy track throughout this entire scene of Abject Horrors contributes even further to that feeling of hostility that's made it so hard for me to get through this story quest without textually yelling at the characters. It feels like everything in the world is telling you that you're wrong for feeling this way, that your horror is laughable, mockable, even. Because this is the way the world works, and if you're horrified by it then you're simply too stupid to claw your way to the top, and you'd be better off as Literal Merchandise.

But also this is a lot of really serious analysis and I can't possibly ignore how this entire thing is themed in the most goofy, shitpost-y way imaginable. The monkeys are a deliberate choice, obviously, as a metaphor for regression of intelligence (and I think there's maybe something to be argued that it's a little bit too close to the "sheeple" trope but put a pin in that cuz I do think it's better executed than how that trope usually is), but they're also just like. Funny lmao. And really stupid. And it is also just multiple consecutive hours of banana jokes and I am going to clobber Dr. Primitive for making me endure this.

But I do think the shitpost factor is intentional. Because one of the main comments I've made about the banana visuals and shit is that I feel like HSR is doing some cocomelon shit to me.

And it's just like. The more I think about it the more the truth of that statement just smacks me in the face, cuz Cocomelon has been described as like visuoauditory crack for toddlers, and it's like. It's the numbing effect of how baldfacedly Stupid it is, you know. It's like the equivalent of jangling keys in front of a toddler, it is an overstimulating mess of colors and visuals that make no sense that's designed to just turn your brain off, and I think this is where HSRs criticism of "idea spreaders" extends from just educators in the case of the BananAdvisors to social media influencers in general. Like, I'm sure you've seen some of those tiktok livestreams that are just completely inexplicable reactions to viewer donations where the streamer is basically just entirely at the viewers' command, or the way AI generated Slop is all flashy bullshit and no substance. HSR, I feel, heavily dislikes this kind of stuff because they consider it to be "brainrot ideas" in that they actively turn your brain off because they actively prevent you from thinking about it.

HSR in general clearly has no respect for shitty educators or substanceless influencers because they show them as a Vile and Evil Force manipulating people into becoming speechless monkeys who have no thoughts of their own and simply indulge in meaningless """happiness"""

Back to the pin, this obviously has some connections to the "sheeple" trope, but I think HSR is being a little bit better about this because it does not place like. Any of the blame on the people actually being manipulated. Rappa and the rest of the Astral Express have a clear understanding that it is the fault of the people who benefit from the general public having their brains shut off at all times, and they're very sympathetic towards people who still end up in this kind of situation. It's not because they're stupid, it's because exploitative people and systems have tricked them there, and they have to be broken out of The Ooze

And that's why Rappa has so many indicators of rebellion and non-conformity. She's a graffiti-spraying rapper precisely because she is fighting against a homogenizing force of evil that wants to take away people's motivation and individuality to feed into the machine. Her song's major theme is about waking people up, getting them to see that the rules are purpose-built to suck them dry, and for them to rebel in their own personal way through personal expression. So it's really no surprise that they made her a cyberpunk aesthetic graffiti-spraying rapper ninja lmao

Tl;Dr this latest story is a commentary on how authority figures can purposely spread bad ideas in order to control the people they have authority over, and how this is a result of a system that actively sucks the people within it dry of all they're worth before tossing them aside. It's about capitalism, it's about toxic grifter culture, it's about social media brainrot, it's about breaking the rules when they're designed to hurt you, and hopefully once I finish it it ends up being about the importance of critical thinking and understanding what you want your place in the world to be, and to then defiantly carve out that little place no matter what stands in your way instead of just shutting your brain off and just going with what the people who are "qualified" say, no matter how insane and manipulative the things they say can be.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

Ruby !!! Hi ! How are you ? If you know about Harry Potter, which house do you think Ateez and Stray kids members would be in, according to astrology?

I’m sorry if you don’t really know or don’t like Harry Potter, I will just accept being grown in the trash. 😎

Anyway love your content and sending you a lot of love 💕 and hope you have an amazing day/night 💕

The way I ran to this ask kicking and screaming because I am such a HUGE POTTERHEAD and I have extensively thought about this!!

I'm a Slytherin btw with Hufflepuff being my secondary house and my Patronus is a fox and I'm gushing right now!

Stray Kids:

Bang Chan and Changbin: GRYFFINDOR of course, they have all the textbook traits of a Gryffindor and just fits into the Gryffindor house perfectly with their values of fairness, natural leadership and humility.

Lee Know and Hyunjin: RAVENCLAW because they are both introverted and homebodies, with a love of intelligence and the arts. Lee Know and Hyunjin are both people who enjoy a structure and routine which is very Ravenclaw coded.

Felix and Han: True HUFFLEPUFF energy, you cannot get anymore textbook Hufflepuff than Felix and Han with their preferred mediator position and the way they use humour as an 'icebreaker' for everything.

Seungmin and Jeongin: SLYTHERIN because they both have strong dualistic energies, in that Seungmin seems like the 'quiet' type until you see how much of a sass and tease he is. A lot of Stays still view Jeongin as 'boyish' or 'cute' and there's an underlying 'dominance' he has that hasn't been fully 'tapped into' yet which adds that other layer.

Plus, Jeongin's animal is a fox and when you post a cute selfie on Instagram and then later post a bedroom photo with the message 'don't talk to other idols, this photo is for you' followed by another message with the sentence 'you are so obedient/you listen so well'.

That's sneaky fox energy indeed, very Slytherin influenced.

I loved this question so thank you so much!!! *heart eyes*

[olderthannetfic]

I've just read an article (in Gazeta Wyborcza) about a very popular series of books among young teens in my country, Poland, called "Rodzina Monet" (Family Monet). The author gained popularity while publishing on Wattpad lol. The article basically said that it's problematic because these books are read by young girls, even 10 years old, and it glorifies violence. Plus it just isn't well written - there were some fragments in the article and yeah it's not well written lmao. A woman in the comments said that her daughter is reading this book and asked if she should forbid it. Since no one answered her, I replied that I don't think forbidding the book is a good solution and suggested talking to her daughter about it, showing her the article and asking what she thinks about it. But I don't know anything more about that situation, for example how old the daughter is. I don't think I'd worry if my child were to read this book, I read trashy stuff too. But I started wondering if maybe there should be some control in such a case? The thing with the books from what I gathered (I haven't read them) is that they are about a 14yo girl, who suddenly lost her mother and grandmother, is sent away to US from Britain where she starts living with her 28yo (handsome) stepbrother and his 3 (also handsome) brothers. She lives in a beautiful villa since the stepbrother is super rich. He's also cold and distant and doesn't understand that she has issues with food (she has some kind of eating disorder). Some of the things he and his 3 brothers do can be described as domestic violence but they apologize, buy her expensive stuff and are all adult handsome men. Yeah it's a young adult fiction. The thing is that it's just not well written so none of the bad behaviours is commented upon.

--

Sounds like typical godawful id trash that people eat up. Making a rule against it will just make it more tantalizing.

It would be far more valuable to kick any worthless partners out of one's life and demonstrate not putting up with shit to a tween girl than to ban her from reading trashy books.

One could always try buying her something better, but IME, people who try that always do it wrong: they buy books that are better written, yes, but the vocabulary and sentence structure are a thousand times harder, there's zero iddy wish fulfillment, and the plot is something fucking depressing and supposedly edifying.

Readers can smell a tryhard "your taste is bad" gift a mile away.

I think it's also important when trying to find replacement trash to understand what the kink actually is. Why is it age gap? Well, have you seen 14-year-olds? They're awkward and covered in zits. Of course the protagonist is young like the readers and the hotties are older.

More importantly, why is it abusive? Absolute idiots will be like "Because society taught girls wah wah wah wah wah", but the actual reason is obvious if you've read trash romance for adults:

It's so the love interest(s) can be in the wrong.

The self inserty protagonist of this type of story has very little power. Not only is she usually younger, but she's poorer, a fish out of water in a new situation, etc. The way she gets power is by the love interest doing something absolutely horrible, realizing they have erred, and then groveling forever. Their guilt is an effective way to manipulate them. And yes, retail therapy is usually the next step from this particular trash classic all the way back to The Flame and the Flower.

You can try giving a teen girl a book about a teen girl action hero who is awesome and whose love interest likes her because of that... But if the reader doesn't feel awesome, she's still going to prefer a book about a loser with a destined, fated love or a misunderstood woobie whom other characters have to grovel to after not initially realizing she was special.

You can't fix self esteem by handing someone a book they don't identify with and telling them their id is wrong. And if self esteem does improve, that doesn't mean the lizard brain is going to switch trash fiction tastes anyway.

One can try leaving other fun books around, but that's about the most that could be helpful.

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

hello mara, i hope you are having a good day today :]

what are your opinions on classic literature? or anything equated to classical stuff

GOOD MORNING LORD AND MASTER ANONYMOUS: HELLO!

it:s my first day waking up in december after a prolonged november due to me being so darn late with my subscriber post; and, you know: partially there is related to classic literature, because on December 1st, instead of finishing my letters i had been doing a graveyard shift from 3~12 cleaning dog cages and getting nauseous and feverish around the 10 o'clock, and this is relevant because i use this time to listen to audiobooks, and over the month i had finished Drood by Dan Simmons (which is about Dickens, classic literature) and which had led me to want to listen to Dickens's Bleak House (which is mentioned in Drood with a lot of sentimentality, and which i heard heard is 'like The Wire')--and though Dickens really should not be representative of all of classic literature: i can not stand Bleak House, but i do not dislike it; Bleak House is a story i want to enjoy but i need to read chapter synopses after each listening session because i can not mentally follow all of the characters, and at some point the story just breaks down into total noise (though this is less bad during the Esther chapters). so, as it relates to work: Bleak House has directly made me not want to listen to classic literature while cleaning dog cages from 3~12 because Dickens is too densely characterized and too slow, and listening to five newly introduced characters stand around the dead body of an opium-addicted law-writer blab about legal procedure for forty minutes was not helping my fever or my nausea or the tedium of cleaning floors--i dropped it for some Tiktok favorite book Liz Moore's God of the Woods and finished it on my shift, December 1st, and actually really enjoyed it as a brain-off thriller with some plot elements that made me think of the warmer parts of Twin Peaks.

But I like classic literature over-all, sort-of; it's a very broad "category" and I wouldn't say it's my favorite except on an author-to-author basis, ex: I'm currently really enamored by Henry James and think he writes almost like this strangely perfect alien who just makes these clunky inhuman sentences that are structured like total magic--and if my times are right, by the time his writing career was beginning to close, Gertrude Stein was making a name for herself; and then I have an interest in reading Woolf and Dorothy Richardson (I don't know if they'd be considered classic)--and the Russians (I'm reading Brothers Karamazov at the moment and while I am getting something out of each chapter, Brothers has me wanting for something shorter, because there are just so many books I'd like to read and my life is sort-of breezing through my fingertips). Moby Dick! I want to read that at some point. Master and Margarita(?) too, at some point, because I heard it's about a large satanic cat that materialized in a girls room and speaks with her.

But I like classic literature; my first exposure to it was Frankenstein in HS and I think that remains one of my all-time favorites--really maybe what set me off on loving reading, and to collect a bunch of 'classic' stories while a highschooler and constantly read through them (I got stuck on mythology for awhile) because I had this silly idea that I was like an RPG character and by reading this stuff I would 'improve' and become more erudite (reality is I mostly just became exhausted with stodgy slow books I largely wasn't enjoying);

so: more-so than classic, I just really hinge upon having an interest in the author; Henry James isn't a person I'd have thought myself really interested in, but he is fascinating. It's just passion and interest that drives me to read; if enough bad Tiktok videos hype up some trash book I'll want to read it or listen to it (I'm listening to All Fours by Miranda July, who narrates it and has a lovely voice, but this is total trash, I'm fine with it though); that's it lord and master anonymous, take care.

[beloved-brynn]

*pokes you*

Brynryn, hi hello, how are youuu?

Anyway, since you asked me abt who i ship my mutuals with, i wanna ask you something as well! >:D

What (two or more) characteristics do you personally like about yourself and your mutuals? You can either just say it, explain it, or anything really lol

About myself: I have a love-hate relationship with my grit. Mostly because I know I was born talentless in all aspects (no exaggeration), so every creative endeavor I have is 99% hardwork. And no, my parents don't have writing or drawing skills. I don't need to explain how my mom only knows how to draw "v" birds or how my dad isn't great at English. Absolute shame on them. (jk I love my family, I wish I could just pass my lifespan to hem HAHAHA). So when all hardwork fails, I feel like absolute shit. Second thing probably is my faith. I think I wouldn't be here if I didn't have some level of trust with the universe overall. The rest of me is garbage tho lmao. If I'm an otome game character, I'm 100% the beloved and beloathed trash husbando /srs.

About @leftdestiny-posts: I'm not sure I'd ever encounter an internet mutual like them ever again, and I think their appreciation for life and bluntness/straightforwardness is something to be admired. They're traits I don't have. Shiro and I are very very different people, and I'm not sure why there was a miracle that made us meet lol.

About @a-dose-of-phitre and @estellxli: longest friends I have. I really admire their creativity and skill, and if you want me to be honest, I know full well I'm left behind in those departments. If you know me irl, I'm not exactly the most affectionate person so I'd rather keep this part brief haha. Though, a small addition, I admire estella's communication skills and assertiveness a ton and I wish I had a bit more of Phitre's endearing charm and mannerisms (and height-). I'm super stiff lol.

About @navxry: Probably communication skills as well? When we met, they talked continuously. As much as I know I'm an extrovert and thrive off social energy, I think something in me is holding me back to being as vocal as they are. They also seem to have an abundance of energy. Ahh. Youth. /j

About @mixed-kester: i wish i am surviving engineering as much as she has i wanna quit can i quit also how does she pick colors sht is unfair i always have to open up google chrome to— //hjjjj

About @jessamine-rose: she already knows about my fashion sense or lack thereof, so let's talk about something else. I greatly enjoy her writing style because I know it's not something I'd pull off. Her sentence structures doesn't become verbose, they're incredibly succinct— enough to lead you along. Other than that, probably the way she bounces ideas spontaneously. I wish she sleeps right tho HAHAHA /silly

About @vennnnn-diagram: I probably pestered them too much about how normal people work honestly. I lack social skills so learning about stuff from them makes me feel a bit more knowledgeable without any visible judgement from them. So yeah, add that as one out of two. The second one? Their music skills. I hate learning instruments. I don't know why. I tried plenty. I suck plenty. Everyone in my family are great at playing except me. They're the Bruno Mars to my gambling addiction. WAIT WHY DOES SOUND LIKE THE WORST PICKUP LINE KN EXISTENCE HAHAHAHAHA

About @stardust-for-your-soul: i wish i can write fluff i wish i can write romantic things why can't i think of romantic genshin men headcanons why'd it always have to end in murder— oh and also, I love her prose. Chryseis can turn the mundane to something that oozes with beauty, and I think that romanticism is wonderful.

About @lucienbarkbark: i absolutely do not agree with your love for dazai /silly but I do admire estorea's unapologetic nature. Hell yeah bestie fricking read thag 300000+ chaptered story 😭😭😭 /gen. I find it a challenge to sit down and read nowadays huhu. Also, I like how warm she is to talk to, we haven't DMed much but it feels so hospitable (?) whenever she send fic links. Wish I was more like that. Also, thank you for the oda fics, soldier.

About @meimeimeirin: when mei put the kamisato siblings in a kin tier once (unless memory fails me), i remember silently agreeing so much. She has that "I got most my life together" vibe and I do wish I have that. She's also very open to talking about what she loves, she doesn't hide her affections and it's something I very much look up to if you've seen the things I've written so far lol. I love how vocal she is with appreciating what she has, including some new drinks she tasted, her parents' loving relationship, it's just sweet. The teashop aesthetic definitely suites her vibe. She just seems so... Elegant? Can't be me, I need to cause a mess /silly

About y o u: well first off if I get to have your hands for a day, you'd find weird ass drawings of blonde men on your drawing software. Second, I like your vibes a ton. It hits different. It fluctuates from absolutely chill to saying lowkey out of pocket things and I might be getting gaslit to thinking you're not at all the latter /j

[tinyreviews]

Writing Tips: Rhetoric. The Secret to Great Speeches.

The five canons of rhetoric, originally defined by ancient Greek and Roman scholars, are principles that guide communication and persuasive speech.

Inventio/Invention:

Ethos/authority. Preface who is making the speech and reasons they are suited to do so. 

Logos/Logic: Present the situation with facts and evidence. 

Pathos/ Emotion: Use both emotion and logic to invite goodwill from the audience.

Dispositio/Arrangement:

Structure your points for clarity and impact.

Typical arrangements include: 3 part(Introduction, body, conclusion), and Chronological/Topical Order.

Elocutio/Style:

Ornamentation/Wordplay: Vocabulary, rhythms, and register.

Similes: Draw imaginative comparisons. “Little did she know a snake was in her house.”

Prosopoeia/Personification: Embodying ideas as persons. “Time had killed them.”

Hypophora: Asking a rhetorical question and answering it immediately. “Did he act when it was time to? I think not.”

Anaphora: Repeating a word or phrase at the beginning of each sentence. for dramatic effect. “He hesitated when things were still calm. He hesitated when things become serious. He hesitated and lives were lost.”

Epistrophe: The opposite of anaphora. Repeating a word or phrase at the end of each sentence. “For your thoughts, I thank you. For your words, I thank you. For your deeds, I thank you.”

Epizeucxis: Immediate repetition of the same word. “Against good judgement. Against good logic. Against good morals.”

Conduplicatio: Repeating a word as the theme of a speech. “The knife had her blood on it. His fingerprints were on that knife. The police found that knife in his trash.”

Metanoia: Breaking the flow of speech by correcting yourself. This makes the speech feel casual, like it’s not preconstructed, but spoken from the heart, mistakes and all. “It was a mistake. No, it was a deadly mistake.”

Memoria/Memory:

Rehearse and practice, use visual aids and mnemonics, to ensure a confident presentation.

Not quite relevant to our purpose of writing good speeches here.

Pronuntiatio/Delivery:

The voice of the speech. Loud and boisterous, or soft and deliberate, fast or slow, playful or grave.

Non-verbal: Use hand gestures, facial expressions, body movements, eye contact, positioning, going from person to person, to connect with the audience.

I find elocutio the most compelling of the 5 rhetorical cannons. Wordplay is what writing is all about, afterall. Though too prosey a speech can be offputting, clever wordplay seldom disappoints any reader.

Inventio and dispositio remind us what to include in a speech: what to establish, what are the facts, how to structure the speech.

Pronuntiatio tells us how to describe the speech, characters and scenes. And their interplay. Non-verbal subtext.

Memoria isn't that relevant here. But maybe the character giving the speech isn't that quite skilled or prepared, and we can show their hesitancy and ineptness.