#serotonin corporation

[toastabi]

lighting practice with comic (up) and skates (down) i think

[winter-hoof]

Writing a resume is the most painful thing on the entire earth

[avida-heidia-5]

“Gotta go, but thanks! On with the show!”

Me: *cries happy tears* 😭😭😭

Here's to you, Walt!

[zurajanaizurakoda]

I don't think anyone cares, but the Gintama Discord has had several arguments about AI generated art. I put the posts I did on private post. It was a lot of fun, but I don't want to hurt anyone.

[noicevibes]

It’s Sunday evening :)) and my one boss was supposed to message me by now if the main admin couldn’t come in for work tm morning :)) to let me know that I could come in like she asked me to do so I could cover her :)) and :)) she hasn’t messaged me :)) so now I get to stay home tomorrow :)) all day long :)) yaaaaaay :))

[firebuug]

BENJAMIN WOOOO!!! MY FAVORITE WAR CRIMINAL!!! love how dupid he looks here yayy

BUGS!!!! these r both me on two ends of a spectrum thank you. i like them a Lot. bugzach

@roboyomo yom i was so obsessed with this one that I drew one too

i havent plugged my strawpage in a while....come leave me a random doodle :33

[my-mild-ginger]

Sketch practice ✨✍️

Hiiii, I'm not dead. Just enduring* The Horrors™️ of corporate culture in the hell-swamp that is Marketing & Communications.

*barely enduring

Anyways, here's an attempt at summoning some serotonin/motivation.

[magic-shop-stories]

HEY WORK BESTIE!! ✨ Saw your blog during my break and screamed (silently) you’re amazing, and our boss is a b*tch. Proud of you for doing this!! Now, as your #1 work hype-person, I demand Jungkook fluff to cure my stress

Imagine: Reader works at a tiny bakery Jungkook visits every Sunday. One rainy day, they slip on a flour spill, he catches them and notices their stress. Jungkook secretly learns to bake their favorite pastry to surprise them. Maybe he is adorably clumsy and hides flour in his hair.

See you tomorrow 💜

💌 Reply:

HI WORK BESTIE!! THANK YOU for saving my nerves every week and for the most adorable request?!!! Jungkook with flour in his hair? Clumsy baking attempts? Secretly learning to make your favourite pastry? I’m already soft 🥺

Here’s your fluffy dose of serotonin – hope it cures your stress. Let me know if you want a part 2 (because let’s be real, Jungkook would absolutely burn down the kitchen trying to make macarons next).

P.S. You’re the real MVP for surviving corporate life.

REQUEST NAME:

Whisked Hearts & Sugar Sparks

↳ Jungkook x Baker!Reader; Fluff Imagine

Rating: G (Tooth-achingly Sweet)

Warnings: None! Just oven mitts, giggles, and a guaranteed craving for croissants.

The bell above the bakery door jingles every Sunday at 3:07 PM. Not 3:00, not 3:15—3:07, like clockwork.

You’d recognize him anywhere, even with his black bucket hat pulled low and his mask hiding that boyish smile. Jeon Jungkook. He’s been a mystery since he first wandered into your tiny shop six months ago, drawn by the cinnamon-sugar scent wafting onto Seoul’s bustling streets. He always orders the same thing: a black coffee, no sugar, and a pain au chocolat. Always sits at the corner table by the window, scribbling in a worn sketchbook. Always leaves a tip tucked beneath his saucer, folded into a tiny origami star.

But today, the sky is weeping. Rain pelts the cobblestones outside, and Jungkook arrives earlier—2:43 PM, hair damp, shoulders dusted with droplets. He hesitates in the doorway, eyes scanning the empty shop before landing on you.

“Hi,” he says, voice softer than the dough you’d kneaded that morning. His mask slips down just enough to reveal a shy grin. “Can I, uh… wait here? Until it lets up?”

You nod, heart stuttering. Casual. Be casual. “Of course. Coffee?”

“Please.”

---

The universe hates you.

One moment, you’re refilling the sugar jars, mind racing about rent, supplier fees, and Mom’s doctor’s appointment—the next, your foot slides through a patch of flour spilt near the counter.

“Oh shi—!”

Time blurs. The floor rushes up—but then arms catch you, strong and sure, pulling you against a chest that smells like rain and vanilla extract.

“Got you,” Jungkook murmurs, voice trembling with adrenaline.

Your face burns. His hands grip your waist, steadying you, and you’re close enough to see the flour speckled in his hair, the nervous bob of his throat as he swallows. “Th-thank you,” you stammer, scrambling back.

But he doesn’t let go. Not yet. His gaze flicks to the dark circles under your eyes, the way your hands shake as you smooth your apron. “You’re… really tired,” he says quietly. Not a question.

You laugh weakly. “Is it that obvious?”

His brows furrow. “I notice things.”

---

Jungkook stops coming on Sundays.

Instead, he starts appearing on Thursdays—early mornings, when the shop is still closed. At first, you think he’s confused.

“Can I… help?” he asks one day, peering through the door you’d cracked open to accept a flour delivery. His sleeves are rolled up, tattoos curling over his forearm, and there’s a smudge of what looks like charcoal on his cheek. “I’m a fast learner.”

You blink. “With… baking?”

He nods, earnest. “I want to make something. For… a friend.”

And so it begins.

Jungkook in your kitchen is a disaster. A beautiful, endearing disaster. He cracks eggs with the intensity of a soldier disarming a bomb, yet somehow gets shell fragments in the batter. He forgets the oven mitts and yelps when a tray singes his fingertips. Once, he accidentally dumps a cup of salt instead of sugar into the mixing bowl and stares at the dough like it’s betrayed him.

“Hyung would laugh at me,” he mutters, pouting at his lumpy croissant attempt. You don’t ask which hyung. You’re too busy memorizing the way his nose scrunches when he’s frustrated.

But he doesn’t quit. He arrives every Thursday, determined, flour dusting his hair like snow. Slowly, he learns—how to temper chocolate, how to braid pastry dough, how to pipe rosettes on cupcakes without them looking like… well, blobs.

---

One Sunday, he returns.

It’s raining again, but this time, he carries a small box tied with a lavender ribbon. His hair is a mess, his hoodie splattered with dried batter, but his smile is brighter than the oven light.

“For you,” he says, shoving the box into your hands. Inside rests a single almond croissant—your favourite, the one you’d once mentioned craving during a lunch break. It’s lopsided, slightly over-browned, but…

“You… made this?” you whisper.

He rubs his neck, sheepish. “I wanted to give you something that… that makes you as happy as your pastries make me.”

Tears prickle your eyes. “Jungkook, I…”

“Wait—” He flips the box over. Scrawled on the bottom in his messy handwriting:

“P.S. I didn’t burn down the kitchen. Mostly.”

You laugh, wet and wobbly, and he beams like he’s won a Grammy.

Later, when you bite into the croissant surprisingly perfect, flaky and buttery, you find a folded origami star hidden inside. Unfolding it reveals a sketch of you—flour on your cheeks, laughing mid-slip, with a speech bubble: “Still the best catch.”

[eugenedebs1920]

How did we get here? How did we get to a place where everything is a conspiracy theory? A place where experts are discredited. A place where the press is seen by many as the enemy of the people. A place where science is disputed. A place where women aren’t trusted with their own bodily autonomy. A place where the labor force is every day having safety protocols removed. A place where it isn’t safe to love who you love without fear of reprimand. Is this our country? Does the Constitution still stand? Are we the United States of America?

The results of the 2020 election gave rise to the fact that almost 8 million more

People voted for Biden over Trump. The 2016 election showed that 3.5 million more people voted for Hilary over Trump. In 2012 Obama got 5 million more votes than Romney, and 10 million more than McCain in 2008!

What does this tell us? It tells us, by and large the population is more liberal, more open minded, more inclusive, more willing to listen to ideas and opinions different from their own. Thats damn near the definition! Liberal: inclined to be open to ideas and ways of behaving that are not conventional or traditional : BROAD-MINDED, TOLERANT That’s Webster definition.

So why then are we at a place where women’s rights are taken from them? Why are we eliminating the scientists and experts who’ve worked at their agencies for years? Why are we stripping regulations away and allowing industries to pollute as much as they want? Why are labor rights being gutted? Why are lgbtq rights being denied? Why are banks allowed to prey on consumers? Why do corporations not have to pay their share in taxes into our nation?

It’s complicated. Yet it comes down to a few things. Greed, slavery, and Republicans.

Greed is an addiction. Studies have shown the same reward centers in your brain release dopamine and serotonin in the same fashion when you use cocaine as when you receive money. So these oligarchs, these CEO’s, these Wall Street billionaires, they’re all looking for the same fix as the guy on the corner asking you for change. They’re junkies. The big difference between the guy in the corner and Elon Musk is, that the guy on the corner doesn’t have government contracts, the guy on the corner isn’t in constant contact with Putin, the guy on the corner isn’t trying to buy an election. He just wants a hit.

When our nation was founded it was a time of upheaval and uncertainty for the 13 colonies. We were embattled with the most powerful military in the world of that time, England. The Spanish were in Florida, the French in Louisiana, and we had the natives whose land we were actively taking. Thats a whole lot of conflict for an emerging nation to endure. The survival of our country depended upon our ability to be a unified front against the aggression coming at us. If it was thirteen different countries fighting their own little wars, there was no way we could have defended against such perilous forces.

There was one little problem though. Although the north did have slaves the numbers paled in comparison to that of the south. The whole labor force of the south was a slave labor force. There were many who saw the unethical concept of slavery and wanted it abolished in the new world. Alas this was not the time for battles of morality.

Due to the smaller population sizes of the south, due in large part to the slave labor force vs the plantation owners, a compromise was made. An electoral process that would eventually be known as the electoral college.

What does this have to do with Republicans? Weren’t they the party of Lincoln? Yes. I’m getting to that. Fast forward a couple hundred years ish to the early 1960’s. All those people who were brought here as slaves, freed but never given freedom. It was time to end the segregation and oppression. The Civil Rights Act was signed into law in 1964 by Lindon Johnson. There was a mass exodus of the Democratic Party from those in the southern states. The CRA was an affront on their entire belief structure. Now, black Americans, whose loyalty had lied with the Republican Party, due to Lincoln’s affiliation, now sided with the Democrats. All the white southern Democrats (Dixiecrats) jumped ship and went Republican.

As this country progresses the diversity goes along with it. The ideas of old, the highly religious, dogmatic principles have had their margins slimmed. Instead of adapting with the culture, instead of representing that in which their constituency evolved to, they devised a plan. A plan of obstruction and cheating, of making it so that the minority could rule over the majority.

There have been more calls to abolish the electoral college (article II of the U.S. Constitution) than any other ratifications to the constitution, 700 times it has been proposed. In the later part of the twentieth century (1969-1970 congress) was the closest it’s gotten to abolishment. Those who oppose its removal claim the “one person one vote” concept leaves smaller state populations less represented. Yea. Your point?! Why are we lessening the voice of millions to appease a couple hundred thousand?! Because Republicans would lose their power to control even without the numbers.

I could go on and on, showing statistics and giving examples but the election is near and I can’t write a novel right now. I can post a link to my Substack where I dive deeper into the subject. Let’s move on.

The representation in the senate, population wise, is a joke! There’s senators from states whose population isn’t a third of others who stand in the way of progress. Who obstruct the changing of the times. The House of Representatives has had their districts so gerrymandered that they can disenfranchise tens of thousands to retain their seats (this is not only Republicans who do this, just for transparency, but it’s a much higher percentage than Democrats). Think about Kentucky. Kentucky’s 4.5 million residents stole two Supreme Court appointments through Mitch (the turtle) McConnell. California has over 39.5 million residents, New York has almost 21 million, Illinois nearly 12 million all Democratic senators. Yet the Republican state of f*ckin Kentucky, with its 4.5 million residents was able to dictate laws in the whole of our country for the next 30 years!!! That’s not how democracy works!!

Now it’s gotten to the point where there are 7-9 states that dictate the future for the nation at large. This minoritarian rule is not democracy. This is reaching a tipping points towards authoritarianism.

I thought Obama did some great things, got us out of the Republican made Great Recession, and the housing crisis Bush’ deregulation caused. The thing that he did that irritates me, is he left roughly 200 open federal judge appointments unfilled. I don’t know if it was arrogance, thinking Hillary would win or why he didn’t fill them.

Trumps not a smart man. He’s an actor. Not a good one at that, but let’s call him a showman. The religious right, in the Heritage Foundation and the Federalist Society had, for decades been waiting for the proper stooge to do their bidding. Harlan Crow and others got the most ideologically backward, extreme right wing judges on the courts. Mind you these are lifetime appointments. Now the high courts will take up absurd cases to throw them up to the Supreme Court and it’s 6-3 MAGA super majority (thanks Kentucky!) and have those partisan hacks work it out to be the least favorable decision for a majority of the population.

It is 70% of representation is controlled by 30% of the population. This is absurd. That means that every Republican vote is worth nearly 2 Democratic votes. Republicans are well aware of this (maybe not the voters but the leadership). This is a beginning step towards autocratic rule. When a minority dictates law for the majority. Unacceptable.

What can we do? Nothing right now. Yet we put pressure on our senators and representatives, the governors of our state and contact the White House. I write my senators to bitch about one thing or the other monthly and about quarterly I contact the White House. Hey! They work for us! Tell your employees what you want from them. Vote! Vote early, vote often. Vote in your local elections, they mean more than you may think. Get your friends and family, neighbors and acquaintances out to vote, offer riders to the polls. Stay informed and educate yourself. The future is yours. Who do you want making the decisions?

[toastabi]

i promise i still draw lol. here are things

[apollo-likes-writing]

June of Doom Day Two - Double-crossed/Forced to Watch

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Characters: Veritas Ratio, Aventurine, Sunday

Ship: Golden Ratio (Aventurine/Dr. Ratio)

Summary: An AU where Sunday knows about the three Cornerstones during the confrontation between himself, Aventurine, and Dr. Ratio. Chaos, whump, and angst ensue.

Word count: 3,364

Tags: Whump, angst, graphic depictions of violence, torture, mind control, mind manipulation, illusions of pain but it isn't technically real, manipulation.

Author's Note: I don't know how I vomited up over 3000 words for this, but here I am. I hope you enjoy! As always, please comment and reblog as it helps me out a bunch (and gives me a much needed serotonin boost). This is not beta-read so please let me know if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes/goofy pacing.

@juneofdoom

Masterlist | Day One | Day Three

Two men stand side by side in front of huge oak double-doors, both in elaborate clothing; one in green, black, and white, and the other in blue, white, and gold. They are presumed to hate each other. They do not. Far from it, actually. They have found a special kind of companionship during their short period of knowing each other. Who would’ve thought a Stoneheart of the Interastral Peace Corporation and a professor of the Intelligentsia Guild could get along? Especially with temperaments as different as theirs. Aventurine: a “crazed gambler” as the other likes to put it. A man of extraordinary levels of luck and the tendency to value petty bets over his own life. Veritas Ratio: a “stuffy doctor” as the other likes to playfully tease, much to his dismay. A professor of profound intelligence, continually disappointed by the divine entity that refuses to cast THEIR gaze in his direction standing next to the man cursed to withstand the favour of another. Both are pitied. Both are revered. Both are about to stab the head of the Oak Family in the back.  

“Sunday is just beyond this door. Are you ready?” the doctor asks, his head turned towards the shorter man beside him. 

Aventurine’s eyes remain trained on the door in front of him. “Yep. You?” 

“Tell me your plan.” 

“I’ll play it by ear.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“When am I not?” 

“Is that a serious question?” 

“It was a rhetorical question, Doctor.” 

“Mine was nothing of the sort, Gambler. Are you telling me you do not have a plan for facing Sunday?” 

“Three chips will do.” 

After that short bicker, Aventurine winks at the man and steps forward to push open the door. It takes everything in Ratio to not sigh and roll his eyes. Doing so would only encourage the man in front of him further, so he instead schools his expression to one of his usual neutrality and calmly strolls into the room behind his companion. Inside sits Sunday, who raises from his seat on the opposite side of the huge circular table and welcomes the two men with a gesture of his hand. 

“It seems my puzzles are too effortless for you, IPC ambassador,” he begins. 

“I see you put a lot of effort into welcoming me, Mr. Sunday. However, this is no way to greet a guest,” Aventurine replies coolly, crossing his arms. 

Sunday smiles, teeth glinting in the light above him. “Well, this isn’t an invitation, but a summoning. Before we speak, I need to test your character. You understand, yes?” He gestures to Ratio, whose expression remains unmoving. “I imagine this knowledgeable doctor friend of yours has been of great help, hm?” 

Aventurine’s faux smile matches the man in front of him. “Certainly. You ought to know this better than I do – he has already faithfully fulfilled his duties, hasn’t he?” 

“Yes. The doctor has assured me of your noble character. He considers you, like himself, a virtuous person who can be trusted by The Family.” Ratio is getting a little sick of being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room. He doesn’t let that show on his face, of course, but he can’t help but feel a little irked. 

“You don’t look too well,” the ambassador suddenly states bluntly. “Am I making you anxious? If not, then it means I’m on your side.” 

“You’re a wise man, Aventurine.” The Halovian places his hands behind his back – the image of grace. “My only concern is that you’ve used your wisdom at the wrong time to meet the wrong person and put yourself in a situation where you shouldn’t be.” His sister’s death. “If I wasn’t mistaken, you have just made a serious accusation against The Family.” 

“You are not mistaken. Depravity is creeping in around you, Mr. Sunday.” This is certainly not how Ratio would go about this. This is creeping into increasingly dangerous territory. “There’s no need to be evasive. Let’s talk about your sister, shall we? Many suspect her death to be the work of outsiders, but I know you are of a different opinion.” 

Ratio can’t tell for sure at this distance, but he could have sworn that Sunday’s posture tenses. 

“Now, your noble status has become a shackle, preventing you from apprehending the murderer and avenging your sister’s death. You’re feeling anxious because you’re out on a limb. But don’t worry. I am on your side.” 

Despite the tightness of his shoulders, Sunday’s voice betrays no such tenseness. “I’m immensely honoured by your concern for me, Mr. Aventurine – since you’re so selfless and generous, I believe you wouldn’t ask for anything in return, would you?” 

“Naturally, you wouldn’t incur any loss from this. I simply want to reclaim what is mine: my liberty, and my personal items under the Family’s custody – the bag of gift money, and-” 

“The Cornerstone and the box that it inhabits.” 

“That’s right.” 

“A treasured asset of the Strategic Investment Department, a sacred stone that seals the Emanator of Preservation, granting significant power to each of the Ten Stoneheart's, yes?” 

“You would be correct.” Where is this going? This is like an elaborate chess game, two players taking the other’s pieces for their own gain. For all his intelligence, Ratio can’t figure out who has the most pawns at their disposal. He knows he is one of them, but his move has already been made. 

“For an object so precious, it probably comes at an even higher price than other forms of recompense.” 

Aventurine frowns – a performed frown – but a frown nonetheless. “I’m sure you’re aware of the high level of risk I’ll be undertaking to bring the truth to light-” 

“Mr. Aventurine,” Sunday starts, raising a hand to silence him. “When you’re out and about, do you always make adjustments to your appearance? Your tie should be on the centre line, your shirt must not protrude from your vest, your trouser creases should be perfectly straight, and always aligned with the tips of your shoes.” 

The blonde nods. “Of course.” 

“I don’t, because it is not appropriate to do so in the company of others – you should make sure you are presentable and in order before leaving the house. Unlike you, I’m not the kind that takes risks. The Cornerstone must remain in the custody of The Family.”  

Looks like the first piece has been taken. Aventurine sighs. “...No room for negotiation?” At this, Ratio moves from where he stands next to the IPC ambassador to the bookshelf closer to Sunday. Ratio must admit that he is a pawn to both players. He doesn’t like it, but it’s a necessary evil. This room is a giant chess board, and he just took his turn. 

Sunday shakes his head. “Please don’t let me turn you down twice.”  

“...Fine. The gift money is fine. I suppose you wouldn’t mind that, yes? After all, a businessman can’t function without a bargaining chip.” To that, Sunday lets himself raise an eyebrow. 

“You compromised quicker than I thought you would,” he notes. “Unfortunately for you, it is a gambler that needs a bargaining chip, not a businessman. I have no qualms in giving you your gift money, but before that, I need you to tell me-” 

Suddenly, Aventurine gasps and takes a step back. His eyes glaze over, and he looks at the Halovian in confusion. It’s a look that appears real. Sunday’s halo glows a myriad of psychedelic pinks and blues and yellows and greens. Ratio must turn away to prevent his distaste from becoming apparent. Sunday is using the power of the Harmony.  

“What exactly is in the box that you have decidedly forsaken?”  

Sunday raises his arms reverently and looks to the ceiling. “Oh Triple-Faced Soul, please sear his tongue and palms with a hot iron, so that he will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.” 

“...What is this?” Aventurine shoots a glance towards Ratio, but sees his head turned. 

“Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed. I implore THEM to shed THEIR light, and I’ll ask you questions on THEIR behalf. You have two minutes to prove your innocence and gain my trust.” 

“...And if I refuse to answer?” 

“You can certainly try – at your own risk, of course.” Sunday grins. “We’ll see if the Harmony rejects you.” At Aventurine’s decided silence, the sky-haired man begins his interrogation. Ratio turns his head back to the two men. Despite his disgust, he cannot help but be a curious man, so he watches. 

“Question: Do you own a Cornerstone?” he asks. 

“Yes.” The answer is immediate, almost as if it escaped Aventurine’s mouth before he had the chance to think about it. Not good. 

“What a simple answer,” Sunday states, nodding in faux approval. “You, too, understand that nonsense leads only to your expense. Let us continue.” 

“Did you hand over the Cornerstone to The Family when you entered Penacony?” 

“Yes.” 

“Does the Cornerstone you handed over to The Family belong to you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Is your Cornerstone in this room right now?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you an Avgin from Sigonia?” 

What has that got to do with the current circumstances? 

Aventurine falters slightly at the question, clearly taken off guard. “Yes. Why do you know that?” 

Sunday ignores his question. “Do the Avgins have any ability to read, tamper with, or manipulate one’s own or another’s mind?”  

“What?” he barks out a laugh at the apparently ludicrous question. The action makes Sunday’s halo brighten and Aventurine winces before answering properly. “No. Does it matter?” 

“Do you love your family more than yourself?” Sunday asks, tilting his head to the side. These questions are getting weirdly personal. Ratio crosses his arms. 

“Yes.” An immediate answer. 

“All of the Avgins were killed in a massacre. Am I correct?” 

“No.” 

“Are you your clan’s sole survivor?” 

Aventurine hesitates. “...Probably.” 

“Do you hate and wish to destroy this world with your own hands?” 

A second hesitation. “No.” 

“Alright. Final question: Can you swear at this very moment, the Aventurine Cornerstone is safe and sound in this box?” 

A third. “Obviously.” 

Sunday nods. “Very well. I have no further questions.” 

Ratio gives out a silent sigh of relief. Sunday moves around the table and strolls towards Aventurine, his halo is so bright that even Ratio can feel it. The atmosphere of the room is suffocating in the will of the Harmony. The high-inducing rainbow of colours escaping from behind the head of Sunday is becoming overbearing for the doctor, let alone for Aventurine. He can’t help but feel pity for the Sigonian.  

Sunday halts a few steps away from the Stoneheart. He taps his finger against his chin as if pondering something. “You know, if there could only be one thing I detest in this vast Universe: it would be dishonesty, Mr. Aventurine.” 

Wait, what? That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. Ratio can’t stop himself from shooting a glance towards Sunday from where he stands behind him. 

“I- I beg your pardon?” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You have been lying through your teeth ever since you stepped onto this planet.” 

“Well- yeah. I haven’t exactly tried to hide that. Isn’t that what your mind-fuckery is all about? To get me to tell the truth? Or are you just trying to show off?” he asks, subtly glancing at Ratio. “Or does your ‘power of the Harmony’ not work?” 

“I can assure you, the Harmony influences all. However, I will admit that I have hidden something from you, Mr. Aventurine,” Sunday replies, his wings pitching downwards a little. 

“Well, isn’t that a surprise,” the gambler retorts, evidently filling his words with as much sarcasm as he can muster. His knees buckle slightly, clearly struggling under the weight of the Emanator’s gaze. Ratio can’t look away. 

“While my powers of persuasion have every capability of forcing the truth out of your lips, I decided to do a little experiment to see if you’re capable of honesty of your own volition,” the angelic man says. “You apparently are not. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

Aventurine stays silent. 

“I’m saying that I know that you’re lying to me.” 

Throughout this entire negotiation, this is the first time Veritas has felt fearful. The room becomes even more suffocating, if that’s even possible. He forces his own face to remain neutral. He plays the role of traitor in this grand play, after all. He must see it through for his companion’s sake. 

From where he stands, he can see Sunday’s shoulders shake. He’s laughing. He’s enjoying this. 

“I know about the Topaz Cornerstone. I know about the Aventurine Cornerstone. And, as similar as it is to your own, I know about Jade Cornerstone.” 

Oh. Shit. 

“How you managed to sway not one- but two individuals from a group as discordant as the Ten Stoneheart's to go along with your terrible plan is beyond me.” Sunday barks a loud laugh. “Truly, you are too much of a risk-taker, Mr. Aventurine. Now-” the man lifts an arm out in front of him, as if reaching for Aventurine from a distance. Ratio can’t stop himself from taking a step forward. He can’t let the man he cares for break in front of him. 

“Kneel.” 

His knees hit the floor, the full force of the Harmony crashing down on him. The scolding feeling of something forcing itself into his brain causes him to squeeze his eyes shut. He opens his mouth to scream, but it’s as if his throat has closed. Useless and silent. 

“What on earth are you doing?” The other man looks on, frozen. 

“You are not the only liar in this room, Aventurine.” He turns. “Come here.” 

He leans forward from where he kneels and falls onto his hands and knees. He crawls over to the Halovian, stopping only when his head almost hits Sunday’s thigh. He falls back onto his calves, looking up at him in pure disgust. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” His face is forced into neutrality against his will. “Let’s play a game, Aventurine. Tell me what your plan is and what Ratio has to do with it, and I’ll let him live.” 

From where he kneels, Ratio turns his head to gaze at Aventurine, unable to look at him in any way except for indifference. He’s fucking terrified, but he can’t make that obvious no matter how much he wants to. 

“Can’t you just force the truth out of me? Why not do that instead?” he asks, looking at his companion on the floor with an expression Ratio wishes he could mirror – fear. 

“That’s boring,” Sunday replies simply. His calm demeanour is steadfast but with a smile that is growing wider with every passing second. “I find this maintains much more efficiency.” 

Aventurine scoffs, still attempting to keep his act. “What does killing an Intelligentsia Guild member do for you that maintains efficiency? You’re mad.” 

“It maintains efficiency because you care about him, Mr. Aventurine. I see all in the Dreamscape. I see the looks shared between the two of you. The companionship you fostered in the short time of knowing each other. You may think you’re able to disguise your relationship with insults and petty arguments, but you cannot. It is frightfully obvious. Besides, you’re more likely to answer truthfully if the life of someone you care about is at stake.” 

“This is pathetic! He has done nothing to you.” It’s obvious that Aventurine is grasping at straws here. 

“You’re right. He has done nothing to me. He has lied and told falsehoods but only because you told him to. I have no reason to do this,” Sunday shrugs, his grin becoming a little too wide. 

There is an oppressive silence that follows. One that draws the line between predator and prey; master and slave; the controller and the controlled.  

“I’m doing this because I hate you, Mr. Aventurine. And you love him.” 

With that, an excruciating pain sets Ratio’s nerves alight. It rips through his mind and tears into his heart and lungs and stomach and extremities. His back hits the floor and he spasms where he lies, agony devouring his senses. 

Veritas Ratio screams. 

He is not a man that screams. Not usually. At pain he normally gives a small grunt and gives a debilitating glare to whomever or whatever caused him harm. Anything more would infer a weakness he doesn’t have. Not here. Here, his voice is guttural and raw and pitched and agonising. It echoes around the room and rises above the Choir of the Harmony that deafens everything else. His eyes snap shut so tightly that he sees stars dotting around in the darkness of the underside of his eyelids. 

“Open your eyes,” several cacophonous voices demand. 

He does, his eyelids shooting open through a compulsion that makes him sick. The psychedelic neon colours of the Harmony streak across his vision and blind him. He continues to convulse on the floor. The pain causes him to double over as stinging tears rip themselves from his eyes and smudge the red under his eyes. 

“Look at him.” 

His head snaps up and his eyes meet Aventurine’s. He’s frozen in place and looking at him in pure horror. Undoubtedly, he has been compelled to stay where he is, made obvious by how much his legs shake and his fingers twitch in futile attempts to reach Ratio. The doctor’s breaths come out in short wheezes, his chest rising and falling in quick succession as panic sets in his bones. While he is not a man to scream, he is also not a man to panic – it is a brief episode of intense anxiety that the brain concocts and transforms into a physical response. Ratio is a man of knowledge and has ways of stopping panic in its tracks before it takes root. In this case, however, knowledge is stripped of him and thrown out of the window. In a small corner of his mind, Ratio knows that this onset of fear and panic is caused by the effects of the Harmony. It is superficial. It is not real.  

But Aeons above – it fucking feels real. 

It carries on for what feels like hours. For all Ratio knows it could have been. If he was more cognizant, he would wonder what Sunday’s goal in this endeavour is. Is it to drive Aventurine into telling the truth? To prove a point? The answer to that is between Sunday and his Aeon. 

He’s sure he blacks out every now and again, the pain writhing across his spine easily becoming too much for his body. He faintly hears the calm voice of the Halovian above him standing resolute as he speaks to Aventurine. He can’t make out coherent words, but by what he can tell from the Stoneheart’s expressions it’s nothing good. He should have been sent to the waking world by now, right? That’s what everyone in The Family says happens. If you want to leave the Dreamscape, you can. You can wake up in your designated Dreampool whenever you want without hindrance. Or is Sunday stopping that as well? He doesn’t know if that’s even possible.  

It’s only when he is once again on the edge of falling out of consciousness that the power of the Harmony lifts from his trembling and fragile body. It isn’t slow like he expected it to be – but rapid. It is immediate and the loss of such a suffocating presence is almost as painful as it was before. He quickly feels arms wrap around him from where he lies limp on the floor, the familiar fluff of the collar of Aventurine’s coat warming his cheek.  

“I’m sorry, Veritas,” he whispers in his ear. “I should never have let this happen to you.” 

Faintly, the doctor hears the wooden door of Sunday’s office click shut. It’s then when he realises, he has been picked up and brought out of his room. Through pained eyes, he gazes at Aventurine. He then lifts a heavy arm to cup the man’s cheek, before slipping into unconsciousness for the final time. 

[allaboardthevespa]

Senses-Focused Ellabby HCs!

Your ambassador of Ellabby has returned. Headcanons of the gals based on the five senses! Three for each sense

💖Sight💗

Whenever the girls are cuddling, they sometimes start complmenting every little thing about their partners, from their face to their earlobes to their fingers. So on and so forth. “All of me loves all of you!”

Ellie is a total sucker for bunnies. Even seeing a picture of a cartoonish bunny rabbit is liable to send her into a gushing frenzy. Gabby is well aware of this and regularly gives her bunny-themed gifts.

Being a skilled artist with an excellent eye for fashion, Ellie often finds herself drawing pictures of her girlfriend wearing her fashion designs.

🎵Hearing🔊

Ellie loves when Gabby goes into one of her silly rambles about what she loves, finding it adorable how excited she gets over everything, and loving the sound of her voice.

Gabby is a little self-conscious about her singing voice, but Ellie loves hearing her sing, no matter how loud she gets.

The girls have gotten into each other’s favorite music genres a lot, with Gabby generally liking more low-key and emotional female vocal music like your Billie Eilish and your Girl in Red (as well as Enej, which Word of God has confirmed her to love), while Ellie is very into pop punk. They’ve sung one another’s favorite songs together a lot. (Ellie’s favorite song is Only One by Yellowcard while Gabby’s favorite song is Everything I Wanted by Billie Eilish.)

💐Smell🌹

Ellie’s pretty vulnerable to smells in general. Having worked at an awful bartending job, she can’t handle the smell of alcoholic beverages without feeling sick due to the painful memories. Nonetheless, this makes Ellie love the scent of flowers even more. Flowers make her feel safe. Meanwhile, Gabby just loves flowers because she’s a nature-loving sweetheart and admires all its charms, smell very much included.

Gabby is something of a rose enthusiast. She knows which ones are the easiest or hardest to grow, and which ones have the smells she and Ellie like best. She can sometimes be seen online talking with fellow rose enthusiasts. She’s also surprised Ellie with many bouquets of her favorite roses!

The girls like stopping at perfume stores and sampling the perfumes they have on offer, and buying their favorites.

🍧Taste🧁

I’ve probably mentioned this before (apologies if I haven’t) but the girls dislike fast food outlets (especially given Gabby’s veganism and dislike of big fat corporations) and much prefer smaller businesses. Most of their dates are at tiny vegan cafes in towns and parks.

Gabby absolutely adores dark chocolate (girl same). The girls often grab any dark chocolate they find in corner stores!

The girls also love fruit sorbet, and regularly have dates in cozy ice cream and sorbet shops and sharing them.

🤝Touch👏

Ellie understands how touch-starved Gabby is and thus won’t hesitate to give her cuddles and kisses when she needs them. Regardless of whether they’re in public or in private, they cuddle and kiss a lot, and they feel safe in each other’s arms.

The girls adore warm fuzzy blankets. (you could’ve guessed by yesterday’s fic lol) They love cuddling beneath them, and whenever one of them is sick (usually Gabby because Ellie has a strong immune system), the other one will wrap them up in a freshly-washed fuzzy blanket to warm them up.

Gabby’s most tickle-sensitive spots are her tummy and neck while Ellie’s most tickle-sensitive spots are her sides and underarms. Both girls get jumpy if you even poke them there, but they’re always willing to let each other go crazy on those spots. Getting tickled by their lover brings them a lot of serotonin.

[sigynpenniman]

There’s a long conversation to be had about the ethics of Disney and mega business and whether the Disney World complex should even exist (as a proud annual passholder I genuinely believe it probably shouldn’t) but I do have to say absolutely everyone should be completely obsessed with something giant, silly and practically totally unimportant with basically no real world impact, preferably something that gives you ample space to theorize, a large enough community to theorize with, and a constant drip of things to look forward to. Yes I know fandoms breed a crazy amount of toxicity and so does Disney and I really would not call myself a Disney adult so much as a Disney Parks and Logistics Adult as I am FAR more invested in shit like groundwater permits and construction walls than any emotional investment in the corporate IP but there is some real genuine delight in being so completely invested in this nonsense that news articles like this are in fact my daily hit of serotonin. Everybody on earth should care this much about at least one thing it feels utterly marvelous to wake up in the morning and open Twitter and see someone tweet “OH MY GOD EVERYBODY EPCOT CANADA HAS NEW. TRASH CANS!” and im like omfggggg Canada has new trash cans!! Anyway this is gonna be a villains hotel and im placing my bet now. If they’re really smart that road move is gonna align with a road move to pack villains in behind big thunder and they’ll do a walkway from the villains hotel to villains land. Maybe a new entrance. That’s almost entirely impossible but they did test it with the (failed) Star Wars hotel so who knows

[owlbelly]

man i can't stop thinking about that antidepressant post going around (this is really long & not happy)

the one that started out as someone comparing taking their SSRI to taking insulin or thyroid medication, & turned into other people linking all the studies showing that the serotonin deficiency / "chemical imbalance" theory of depression has been pretty well debunked & that doctors/scientists don't really understand how a lot of psych medication works, particularly SSRIs, so you can't really compare taking a medication for something your body actually physically lacks or that's correcting a chemically measurable problem to taking a psych med that isn't doing either of those things (no one is measuring your brain chemicals & there's no agreed upon baseline for something like seratonin - a re-uptake inhibitor isn't making you make any more of it either it's just prolonging its effects in your system)

like. idk. i understand that the science is demonstrably faulty & that advertising campaigns for medications are the reason the popular conception of innate "chemical imbalance" persists even among doctors! this is not new information to me & it's obviously critical to talk about it & continue to do research.

but i also feel like there has got to be a way to talk about it that doesn't implicitly shame or, idk, outright deny the experience of people for whom taking SSRIs has been life-improving or even life-saving? "this stuff doesn't work the way they tell you it does" is one thing, but it so quickly seems to turn into "this stuff doesn't do anything at all (except hurt you)" which is...literally just not true. we can question whether or not medication is the best choice for someone, we can criticize the intersection of capitalism & medicine that's resulted in poorly understood medication with serious side effects being pushed through to sales, we can talk about how structural/societal change would help most of us MUCH more, etc. etc.

but for some people nothing else works, or nothing else works without an additional boost, or nothing else is accessible (which is fucked). these are shit circumstances. idk i think the wording on that post was like "it's fine if you feel like they help you but don't spread this misinformation about depression as a chemical imbalance" & i guess "it's fine if you feel like they help you" always reads to me as "okay sweetie, you have the right to enjoy your poison placebo." clearly they fucking do help sometimes. we don't know how exactly & we should be concerned about lying corporations & shitty institutions, but like...some people are clearly getting results from them. not all of them good results! but good enough that we can function & live, otherwise we wouldn't take them.

lmao maybe i just don't know how to not feel like shit about any discussion of SSRIs, since i have taken them longer than almost anyone i know (almost 25 years) & from a young enough age that they've possibly shaped the development of my brain in ways that no one really understands & the side effects have definitely shaped my life & i have never been able to function without them! maybe i never will be able to now. was it wrong for them to be prescribed to me in the first place? idk i was pretty set on being dead at that point. maybe i would have been okay, maybe not. i've tried to taper off them multiple times, both with doctor supervision & without. it fucking sucks & i stop feeling like living. should i do it again & stick it out to the point of wanting to die because "depression isn't actually a chemical imbalance" & i am just a duped pawn of big pharma?

or am i SSRIs Georg now, who has been taking Prozac for a quarter of a century & does have a resulting "chemical imbalance" & is an outlier, should not have been counted

sorry i hate this i hate being both critical of & also dependent on psych meds, i hate the way everyone talks about it. people who are pro-meds always act like no one is ever forced to take them or stigmatized for not taking them & that the science around them is clear-cut, people who are anti-meds always talk like there's no stigma around taking psych medication (lmao! even antidepressants!) & also like they're just shit placebos for idiots.

i super hate not knowing what 25 years of SSRIs has done to my body & also being pants-shittingly terrified of trying to remove them from my life. it all fucking blows i just want to see a little more compassion for all of us trying to survive here in whatever way we can

[roxyzwritez]

REWATCHING SU:F

this will be a chain of self reblogs as i go through each episode of the.. unfortunate part of steven universe.

------EP 1------

the way peridot goes

steven universe futureee~

gives me serotonin.

2. the connie lofigirl reference made me go OH MY GOD ITS YHE REFRENCE and im here for it

3.s l u u u u u u h r p "i think YOU, should stop trying to fix everybody." hits hard

4. "AND IF I DIDN'T CARE, YOU'D STILL BE A MONSTER TOO." goes SO hard like you fucking GO king

5.okay every line from frustrated steven in that scene gives me adrenaline rushes like now i wanna beat someone up and just gurugjfigig YEAH

6."you are NOT my diamond" funny you say that, jasper. funny you say that, jasper. fragments you say that, jasper. funny you

7.the fight scene fucks so hard

-----EP 2-----

8. steven stop narrating or else fhfgbfbbt this isnt a documentary you god damn goofball i cant be that mad (not yet you gotta talk trash about rose for me to throw hands)

9. tv froze when biggs jasper flung the ferris wheel and that's the highlight of my day

10."comfortable can be good, too." based amy for the win

11. the start of stevens downward spiral: hey lets push everyone out of their comfort zone OH JEEPERS WHY IS EVERYTHING FALLING APART

11.5: DELIVERY. DELIVERY. D E L I V E R Y.

12.you should be sorry steven beach city is now on fire like california.

13. smoky quartz representation 💗💗💗

14. pink smoky quartz could beat every single villain and hero instantly. thanos? avengers? god himself? addicted

15. choose their own future, yk? choose their own future, yk? CHOOSE THEIR OWN FUTURE, YK? CH-

------EP 3------

16. oh god rose buds. ep hasnt even started and the trauma is flooding back AWAAAAYGH my poor boy steven-

17. "after everything that's happened..." I WILL FIGHT YOU AND WIN YOU WILL RESPECT YOUR GOD DAMN MOTHER YOU MOTHERFUC- *ahem* sorry. idc if future was rushed due to unfortunate uncontrollable circumstances but this still makes me furious how fucking dare y

18. greg why couldn't you just stand up for yourself. bruh got his lack of spine from smashing the diamond im sorry that's the only criticism of pink/rose i can make and not uncontrollably punch myself

19. i wanna hang out with the famethysts. forever. i wanna laze like delinquents!! holly blue get ur ass LAZING. get with the times.

20. "i cannot wait to see the look upon your face when you see their faces" the amount of trolling is a lot more than a little

21. "yes, this is the look i wished to see!" im sorry but you will die for the mistreatment of steven cutiepie forgot the rest of your long name universe he did not deserve this

22. quiet rose gave me false hope and i died. still die when i see that one

23. WHY DON'T YOU COME TO DINNER AND FIND OUT :)))))

24. "yo steve- (bass boosted vine boom)"

25. "i haven't had that many exes show up since- (bass boosted vine boom)"

26. pearl somehow having her composure is a mystery to me. i need lessons on how to not explode in that kind of situation

27. "...but thank yOU, RO- (crowdstrike update)"

28. pearl freaking out about this is making me freak out about this and i don't know what that says about me.

29. mmmMmmmMmMMMN SLUMBER PARTTy:)))))

30. "i am dead rose quartz!" thats a crit right there right to my feels

31. the squal of terror when they turn on the tape is so hilarious but also makes me scream in terror

32. yeah bro lion would get maaad.

33. motherfucking bitch ass fuck hiding the painting in the pink realm i hope you turn into a lizard and feel bad about it OH WAIT YOU DO. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR DISRESPECTING THE LORD AND SAVIOR, ROSE QUARTZ UNIVERSE. sorry just another RRRRRAAAUGH THIS IS WHY IM MAKING THE AU I HATE STEVEN UNIVERSE FUTURE FUCKING GDOD DAMN CORPORATES RUSHING WRITERS LEADING TO BAD CONTENT AAAAA

34. funny number not putting anything here

35. oh that's why ppl ship volleypearl. i forgot the SORRY TO INTERRUPT BUT "looks like someone has still got it bad..." I DONT WANNA HEAR IT FROM YOU YOU STILL GRIEVE JUST LIKE THE REST OF anyway i forgot that blushy she had at pink pearl. i understand now

36. "im older than you:3" *restrained death stare*

37. welcome pink dia- (sudden explosion)

38. pearl stop talking down to volleyball why are you so mean GGRGRR RAAAAAAAAAA its so grating. be nice to eachother. outburst imminent

39. what.did.you.say.?

40. the pink outburst. the rage. the release. its so SATISFYING. until the pearls almost get rejuvenated of course. also megapearl is 🥰🥰🥰😳😳😳😳💗💗💗💗😚😚😚😚🥰🥰

41. megapearl in that pose just. im going to turn into rose quartz. right now. iaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAQQ?&;&5525640$@)@)"78;73(2$;);96&$0)&(72)5@3495$?,'gj

42. oksy. fine. maybe volleypwarl is a valid ship (sniffles)

ok im not making this post any longr ill continue later

[the-gateway-to-madness]

I kinda wish (no pun intended) that people would stop getting on disney's case for being "safe"

I don't care if a movie is "safe". My bed is safe. Drawing is "safe" because it's something I know I'm good at. Singing alone in the shower but not wanting to be a performer is "safe". There's nothing intrinsically wrong with "safe" as long as you're trying to genuinely make something good.

Society has gotten so obsessed with the idea that everything has to be groundbreaking that we forget humans and technology both have limits, that every story has been told before in other ways and other patterns, and that excellence and groundbreaking-ness only exist when surrounded by "average" content. I'd prefer that average be "watchably good" over "completely awful".

I don't care if something is considered "average" or "safe" because society has the attention span of a squirrel now and needs something new every other second to get any serotonin out of something. I'll take a little formulaic, a little predictable, if characters or a world or a story have enough care and new-ness in them, by virtue of the fact that every story is just clichés arranged in new orders. I don't think a story should have to be groundbreaking to be good.

Also, Spider-Man: ITSV was dripping with cliché, what made it "groundbreaking" was the artistry and presentation. Take any excellent movie off its pedestal and you have a flawed work of art made by flawed people who run flawed companies. Stop holding art and corporations to standards the individuals they're made of can't meet.