#sorry I write a lot in my tags

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[evansboyfrend]

from the shallows to the deepest end - a bucktommy fic

aka the fake dating au from all the snippets and the "buck and tommy's grind profiles" edit words: 10k rating: M

summary:

Evan Buckley (an ally) signs up on Grindr looking for a fake boyfriend to take as his plus-one to his parents' wedding anniversary.

Tommy Kinard (guy who should know better) agrees to be his date.

special shout out to @tommysboyfriend and @erodingsinner for beta reading and listening to me whine while writing and being overall sweeties!!! ♥

tagging people who asked to be tagged or expressed interest in reading the fic under the cut (sorry it took me literally months to finish and ily all btw)

@not-so-witchy-witch @the-aqueerium @nieve-en-invierno-blog @lbltpsmspenguin @setmeatopthepyre

@iphyslitterator @evanntommy @jewishbuckley @dandelioncasey @cliophilyra

@stardustbuck @tommykinardkink @aringofsalt @wikiangela @tiltingheartand

@badbobshipsit @thatmexisaurusrex @half-oz-eddie @weewoo911 @ody3truther

@derangedsynthpop @louorcastiel @foxtrot91 @damagedfletching @rdng1230

@nicsastros @maliathewerecutie @feistygina @dirundmir @dreamingreality91

@thegingerparty @dustofdalek @marvelousbuckley @leashybebes @neotradpsyche

@bookwormagain @retromodgirl @dinolawyer @nonuniqueindie @aurorianne

@wolvesofinnistrad @trustme-imnormal @tedious-waffle @dudawhenmaybeart @lavenderleahy

@sailbowtie @unfuckablebogtroll @bibuckleykinard @apartmentsmoke @theweewooshow

@waywaychuck @a-mel0n @kinardevans @kinkleydiaz @piratefalls

@mountedeverest @imsogayandidontevenlikeboys @shakespearerants @buckevantommy @tommykinardbuckley

@rylivers @necromox @al-the-remix @the-little-red-queen @bucksboobs @visioninacone

@xofemeraldstars @buckscurls @harmonic-intervention @spacetimeconundrum @k4nd1-c0rn-c0rn

@tommyscurls @goodnightevan @hearteyestommykinard @agenttommykinard @theotherbuckley

@swagmaster9k @beefcakekinard @wikiangela @tommykinrd @breathe-2am

please don't feel obligated to read the fic or reblog the post, i'm just tagging everyone out of courtesy more than anything else! <3

[secrescaryat]

// pentiment spoilers (implied ig but still there)

more of these because i was inspired

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Chat have we discussed drunk chess with cherik cause i just think. That would be the darnedest silliest thing they could do

[martybaker]

Over the rainbow

So I know we love torturing or at least inconveniencing retired Dream with new human ailments and realities, I love doing that as well, but the thesis of this was - what if Dream retired and he finally got to be at peace and all was well, actually 🥹

(started this for prompt First time for dreamling week but here we are over a week late)

————

“I’ve never been kissed,” Dream announces.

He’s settled on the far end of Hob’s sofa with his knees up, chin settled on top of them and arms loosely hugging his legs, somehow looking both comfortable and relaxed as well as like a model in the middle of a photoshoot.

Hob’s had a hard time not staring but when Dream says that line his eyes immediately snap to the vision on his couch, clothed in hues of beige, wrapped in Hob’s own softest cardigan, and he nearly spills the tea that he was bringing for a sip.

“Huh? What?” He asks dumbly, voice unnaturally high pitched.

Dream merely blinks at him and waits him out.

When the wheels in Hob’s brain start turning again he does try to parse that statement, but all he can come up with is: “But…you’ve had relationships? You had a wife and all, did you not kiss? Was it all like, metaphysical or-“

Dream rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Of course I’ve kissed my partners. Let me rephrase the statement. Murphy has never been kissed.”

Oh.

Dream’s talking about his new human body. His new self, that he named Murphy, a name to be used for dull but necessary identity paperwork that Hob obtained for Dream through rather illegal means.

It’s only been a little over a month since Dream turned human, but he’s been very…calm while settling into his new reality. The retirement was his own choice and he seemed to be perfectly content with his decision, despite the fact that he was forced to live with Hob in his messy little apartment while they figure something of his own for him.

Well, if.

Dream also seemed perfectly content in Hob’s space and showed no interest whatsoever in looking at flat listings.

Not that Hob minded. He would happily spend every minute every day with his friend, if it wouldn’t make him feel guilty about slacking on his job and his students. After all, Hob’s chosen career wasn’t just to keep himself busy, he really enjoyed teaching young impressionable minds about days past, keeping the history alive. Remembering.

But his joy in teaching was currently found lacking compared to the newfound joy of Dream in his home. Not just visiting, robed in dark colors, taking time off of his duties to spend a moment with Hob, but human, dressed in earthly colors, there in the mornings for shared breakfasts and still there in the evenings when Hob returned. Reading a book, slowly going through Hob’s vast vinyl collection, playing the piano, painting, knitting, molding clay. Pale blue eyes focused and clever hands at work, creating, always creating. He’s always been an artist and that part of him stayed true, despite the big change.

All things considered, Hob’s really been having a hard time keeping his foolish heart in check. And with Dream saying things like this, things like-

“This mouth has never been kissed.”

Hob’s eyes drop to Dream’s lips as soon as Dream says that, just to see them twitch in a pleased smile.

Hob stares at him, at a loss for words, while Dream looks back at him expectantly. Expecting…an answer? A reassurance?

Hob clears his throat. “Well…I’m sure it will be? It’s a very lovely mouth,” he says, unable to stop the blush coloring his cheeks.

Dream sighs a long suffering sigh and pets the couch next to himself. “Come here,” he commands.

There’s no ancient power of a monarch of the Dreaming behind it anymore, but Dream still keeps his regality, his head held high, a quiet gravitas to him. Not quite the same as when he was an Endless, but still there.

Confident, elegant, graceful.

And calm, like the still water of an indigo lake high in the mountains.

Hob blinks. What was the question? Oh, right, he was being summoned. He moves to sit next to Dream.

Dream turns towards him, leans in and closes his eyes.

Is he…?

Hob is frozen in shock once again. “Ahh, you, you want me to…?”

Dream opens his sky blue eyes again, staring into Hob’s soul. “Yes,” he says decisively.

There’s a beat when they just stare into each other’s eyes and then Dream closes his again. Waiting, alluring lips just a few inches from Hob’s.

But Hob’s having a crisis. They’ve never done this before! Dream’s never said anything about being…attracted to Hob, he’s never suggested, he never seemed interested that way.

One time, Hob got drunk and Dream had to drag his ass upstairs to bed, and Hob was just enough at his senses to remember that he slurred: “D’ya know what I like best about being immortal?”

“What,” Dream asked as he pulled Hob upwards, making sure he wouldn’t stumble on the stairs.

And Hob smiled goofily and said: “You.”

Dream just blinked at him. He didn’t say anything, not then, not when Hob got propositioned by the shopkeep when they were out together, browsing for new (old) records, not when Death was visiting and she teased if they changed their dates to weekly instead of centennialy.

Not when they were walking in a park, and Dream seemed to be watching a couple on another path on a stroll as well, holding hands.

Hob’s good mood made him act foolish, he reached out a hand in offering, but Dream… he just stared at it. Hob quickly withdrew it, running it through his hair, chuckling nervously. “I was just teasing,” he said weakly, but by that point he was sure his feelings were transparent and Dream’s lack of reaction was a clear signal.

Then again, maybe this was just harmless experimentation? Wanting to know what it feels like, being kissed as a human?

But Hob still hesitates. He feels too strongly about Dream to casually mess around without being wary of the consequences.

“Uhh, wait. I, are you sure? I don’t-“

Dream sighs and his patience with Hob apparently runs out because he pulls Hob towards him by his shirt, kissing him square on the lips.

Hob makes a surprised sound, but then he closes his eyes and falls into the kiss.

It’s unhurried and rather chaste, yet Hob’s heart seems to be doing its best trying to jump out of his chest.

Dream pulls away, slowly opening his eyes.

“How….how did that feel?” Hob asks, reminding himself that this was just an experiment. A one time deal.

Dream contemplates his answer. “Different,” he says.

“Different than when you were..Endless?

“Yes.”

“Good different or bad different?”

Dream frowns. “No such dichotomy applies,” he says, and then he leans back in again and Hob leans away.

He chuckles nervously. “Ahh, haha, hold on. You’re gonna make me think you like kissing me.” He tries to turn it into a joke, holding Dream lightly by his shoulders, trying to prevent him from darting forward again.

Dream glares at him. “And what, pray tell, is making you think I don’t.”

“Oh…really?” Hob lets go of one bony shoulder to pinch his own arm. Surely, he’s still asleep and this is just a …dream.

Dream’s glare turns even more unimpressed. “You’re awake,” he says, sharp, and as if to prove his point he kisses Hob again, more hungrily and passionately, biting at his lower lip, Hob’s hold too slack to hold him back.

They kiss and kiss and it’s far from chaste this time, Dream seems to have made it his mission to explore Hob’s mouth thoroughly, while his hands explore his chest.

Hob’s hand burrows into Dream’s hair, he isn’t able to hold back now, kissing back with vigor, treasuring Dream’s every gasp.

They’re both breathing hard by the time they part - by the time Hob has to pull Dream back by his hair to stop him from diving back in.

He can’t help but laugh. “You do actually need to breathe now, you know.”

Dream doesn’t seem too pleased with this reminder. He huffs, sitting back onto his heels.

Hob already misses the feeling of him in his arms.

He clears his throat. There’s a very important question to be asked first.

“Is it…just the kissing that you like?”

Dream tilts his head at Hob like a cat, measuring him. “You cannot tell?”

Hob shakes his head.

“You’re not very bright, Hob Gadling,” Dream says, and Hob would protest, he would tease back, but the words get stuck in his throat when Dream takes Hob’s hand into his own, putting it on his chest and making Hob feel his racing heartbeat.

Hob inhales, blushing.

“You…I…,” he sighs, searching for words. “I still have a lot to learn,” he offers, smiling at Dream.

“As do I,” says Dream.

It is marvelous seeing Dream like this. His words are confident but his heart beats wildly under Hob’s hand, pink colors his cheeks, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

He’s trusting Hob with this, with his very human body whose reactions he cannot temper, cannot regulate.

Hob chuckles, feeling warm.

He loves this, the marvelous feeling of finding out your crush likes you back, the feeling that’s always incredible, no matter the time and place, no matter how many times he’s experienced it. One of his favorite feelings, the ones that make life an amazing journey.

“I really thought you weren’t interested in me like that,” he says.

Dream sighs. “I…could not be.”

Hob’s heart aches.

He has to touch, now that he’s allowed, now that he’s invited to. He kisses Dream’s forehead, his cheeks, delighting in the sighs he earns.

He kisses Dream's neck and Dream tilts his head for better access, making Hob feel lightheaded and so full of happiness he can hardly contain it. “I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you now,” he warns. “I’ll kiss you a hundred times every day.”

“A thousand times” Dream says, and Hob laughs, scraping his teeth against alabaster skin, making Dream moan.

He smirks, gaining back his confidence now that he knows Dream means this. He holds him around the waist, pulling him closer.

“I did learn a certain thing or two over the years,” he says slyly, dipping Dream backwards, laying him on the couch. Dream sighs indulgently, wrapping his hands around Hob’s shoulders, holding him close.

“Want me to show you?” Hob asks, and Dream hums in confirmation, pulling him for another kiss.

Soft notes play from the old record player, outside warm spring sun rays melt the last reminders of winter, birds chirp their welcoming songs.

Hope is in the air.

Dream’s here, in Hob’s home, in his arms. The cold weeks when he was distant and quietly hurting and Hob could sense something was very, very wrong but didn’t know how to fix it now seem like a distant memory too.

Hob pulls back for a second, holding Dream’s head in his hands, savoring the moment.

“Will you stay?” he whispers.

Dream inhales, his hand shaking a little when he places it on Hob’s cheek, caressing Hob’s lips with his thumb.

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” he says, smiling.

————

[myokk]

🥺

[callisteios]

I have a new uquiz for you, go on a pilgrimage with me. discover who you are.

[rawbin-hsr]

OMGGG Your latest smut fic is so amazing!!! The smut is absolutely delicious! but....the angst is breaking my heart so...could you please write a continuation or part two where the reader confronts Aventurine's dark internal thoughts and comforts them? A fic where they actually get him to believe that they love him for real, where they tell him that he's not a monster and that he wasn't ruining them.

You've got it ! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Aventurine x Reader

You treat Aventurine with more respect than he deserves. (Part 2)

Read part 1 here !

CW: dehumanisation (internal, thoughts Aventurine has of himself, referring to himself as a “monster”), lots of mentions of death, passively suicidal Aventurine, violent imagery (through metaphors, nobody is actually physically harmed), intrusive thoughts, Aventurine thinks kind of vicious things about you (refers to you as "stupid", "brainless", "naive" etc), cursing.

Lmk if there’s anything else I should warn about !!

Small note: Spoiler alert sorry, but you will not completely fix Aventurine in this fic. Making any real progress would take YEARS. The trauma he's gone through and his beliefs about his own humanity are EXTREMELY deep-seated, just one conversation would not be enough to make him truly believe he was loved. Super sorry since I'm sure that's not what you wanted (you specifically requested they "truly get him to believe that they love him for real", but this does still end on a hopeful note so I hope you won't be too disappointed (•ᴗ•,, ) )

Sometimes Aventurine gains enough clarity to remember where he stands. More importantly, he gains enough clarity to remember where you should stand. That is to say, as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, you are never keen on doing that. 

In these moments of clarity, he distances himself. If you won’t do it, he has to. He needs to. He needs to even when he can feel the little pieces of him that you’ve managed to haphazardly glue together splinter into tiny shards again, even when it feels like every step away is a step walked on shattered glass. He can hardly be called a ‘person’ anyways, what does his suffering matter? He has already lost so many good things, why not add another loss to the tally?

He reads your texts, but he doesn’t respond. He hangs up on you the moment you call. By doing this, he makes sure you know he is alive. Both because he knows it would devastate you if you thought he died, but even more so to make sure you know he is intentionally ignoring you. He hopes at least some part of you hates him. He thinks part of him hates you.

But he can never stay away for long. Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. Thoughts of you always cloud his mind too much to do what is right. He reminds himself he will destroy you. He comes back anyways. He is too selfish not to. 

And you welcome him with open arms every time. Sure, sometimes you yell. Sometimes you berate him. Sometimes you cry. But he never does something beyond the bounds of what you’ll forgive, even though he tries to. You’re patient to a fault. Though he feels bad, he never takes it fully seriously, because you always hold him with so much sweetness, even when your words are filled with righteous anger and justified hurt. You always end it by reminding him that you love him. Something clenches in his chest; something that is not his heart, because he has none. He claims he is sorry, but you both know he will do this again. He always does. You know he will hurt you over and over, even if you don’t know the extent. You know he will test you, that he will ignore you, that he will cling to you and that he will taunt you. You don’t know he will drag his claws through you and tear you to ribbons; you don’t know he will sink his teeth into your neck and drink all your blood; you don’t know he will lure you to sea and drown you. You are never aware of the true danger you are in. 

Maybe that’s why you one day feel comfortable enough to corner the creature that has taken on the appearance of a lover. You sit down next to him in bed one evening after one of his many attempts to push you away, your expression grim. You look straight ahead, right into his dead eyes, unaware that a monster is towering over you. 

“We can’t go on like this,” you say. For one moment, the crushing relief and devastation threatens to consume him, and he’s not sure which of the feelings is stronger. For one moment he can’t breathe. 

He hacks our a laugh, his skin straining. Something is shifting beneath his flesh, something ugly and dangerous. He needs to leave and he needs to do it quickly. 

“You’re right, we can’t,” he agrees, his voice a lot more steady than he feels. He feels the urge to grab you and shake you until you pass out. He feels the urge to suck out your life force until your body is an empty husk. He feels the urge to slam your head into the bathroom sink in the next room over. He feels the urge to shoot himself in the head, because he does not want to do any of that. 

“I love you,” you say, unexpectedly. Or maybe it’s not unexpected. You always say such stupid, brainless things. (You say it with sweetness. The only sweetness he can offer in return is the sweetness of bacteria digesting rotting meat. Is the flesh his, or will it be yours?) He laughs again. 

“I thought we were breaking up,” he says. Smirking, as if it’s funny. (It isn’t.)

“No, we’re really not,” you say firmly. He snorts. 

“Maybe we should.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you come closer. 

Get away, he thinks. Run, you fucking idiot. 

You don’t have many flaws, but the ones you do have are insurmountably big. You are too forgiving, you are too kind, you are too selfless, you are too naive. You will kill yourself doing this one day. You will let him kill you.

Your arms wrap around him. He can’t help but relax. The thing lurking under his human disguise grows more restless. 

“I don’t hate you,” you say, unexpectedly. And this one really is unexpected, because what made you say that? Your arms squeeze around him tighter. “I thought I was being obvious enough about that, but you’re so bad at understanding it.”

The feeling he has is the same as the feeling he gets when he realises a deal is going awry. You are the highest risk stakes he has ever made a bet on: will he ruin you, or will you ruin him? What you could do to him is so much more serious than death. He knows that he is holding a losing hand. He doesn’t even know what he stands to win.

You kiss his neck. He shudders. 

“Why are you so scared of me?” you ask. 

Scared? He is not scared. What an outright laughable concept. Neither of you are scared, but if one of you was, it should be you, but you aren’t, for some reason.

“What gives you that idea?” he chuckles, but his voice is not as steady this time, and he can feel his smile slipping. (What is wrong with him? He doesn’t want to think about it. The answer is always ‘everything’.)

“Your hand is shaking.”

It is, but that is not because he is afraid. Fear is a human response, borne from the desire to live. It is instinctual. It means kicking and screaming, it means clawing your way out of hell for the chance to see another day, it means fighting for the life you don’t want to end. He cannot die, you see. Death cannot occur twice. Just because his body reacts, that does not necessarily mean he can truly fear any longer.

(Then again, maybe his reaction does not come from the thought of his death.)

“I’m not scared,” he says, and his voice sounds a lot weaker than he had expected. You pull him closer, cradling his head against the crook of your neck. His blood is pulsing too quickly.

“It would be okay if you were,” you murmur. “I know you don’t know how to be loved. That’s okay. I’ll teach you. You just have to let me.”

Squash. Slice. Tear.

Maybe you are the monster. He can feel your claws prying his chest open; he can feel your teeth dig into his flesh; he can feel something that is not air fill his lungs. The biggest difference between you and him is that he devours, while you give. You painfully shove something back into the cavity meant to contain his soul, you pump blood back into his system, and you fill whatever gaps are left in him with something that is first cold but quickly warms. 

(He realises, belatedly, that something is pumping inside his chest again. But it can’t be a heart, can it? He lost that so long ago.)

“I’ll kill you,” he manages through gritted teeth, claws digging into your shirt. It is not a threat. It is not a warning. It is just the truth.

“You think too much,” you admonish him. Your tone is as gentle as your words are cutting. “I wish you would trust me more. You’re so determined to ruin your own life, and I don’t like it.”

“That’s just how I am. Deal with it or leave.”

“I’ll deal with it, then.”

Like a werewolf called by the full moon; like a vampire to blood; like a siren to a sailor. He will destroy you. But you accept it. 

He has tried time and time again to push you away, but he is weak. So incorrigibly weak, and though your flaws are insurmountable, his are all-consuming. He is a monster in all the ways that matter. But you stubbornly will not leave despite that. 

(Maybe that makes him a little more willing to try to change his nature. Just a little. Just for you. If you will not leave anyways, maybe he could try to make his presence a little less torturous.)

“Just… please stop ignoring me,” you sigh, nuzzling into his hair. Tenderly, tenderly, tenderly, so tenderly it makes his skin crawl. Your claws are softly piercing into him and he is helpless, unable (unwilling) to fight back. “I can deal with everything else. I just hate it when you do that. I can’t keep going weeks without speaking to you. I know you have some kind of… weird ideas that I’d be better off without you, but that’s not true. I love you, and I love being around you. I can’t help you when you cut me off at every corner.”

Cut, slice, slash.

Something in him breaks. Something he knows cannot be salvaged. Something he knows you would not want to salvage. Something he is not sure if he wants to salvage either, now that it is broken anyways.

He breathes a shaky breath, his fingers — his fingers, not claws, not this time — digging into your back. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, and he does not feel the urge to bite down. Though his eyes feel wet, it would not be enough water to drown you. 

He knows your line of logic is wrong. He knows the fact remains unchanged: he is a monster of a man. He will ruin you. But maybe your presence sparks enough electricity to keep his heart pumping, just for a little while, and maybe he can wait until things actually start going downhill before he lets you go. Maybe he can remember how to be a human for a bit, maybe he can pretend he is. 

“I just… don’t want to do something I can’t take back,” he whispers. “Not with you. You’re the… the only good thing I have left. I don’t know what I’d do if I…”

“That’s sweet, but I’m not as weak as you think I am,” you reply. “I’ve held out this long, haven’t I? Put more faith in me.”

He smiles.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

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

My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3 Also reblogs are EXTREMELY appreciated the final push I needed to finish this was from a very kind individual who reposted and analysed my writing I've been riding that high ever since they did that ily bro

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: dismemberment / ]

I think a lot about how Leo’s rescue could have easily ended in him losing a leg as the portal snaps shut on the Krang still clutching the limb, or, alternatively, only having Leo’s right arm make it out, still held dearly in his brother’s hand as the rest of Leo is left behind. (The latter hits even harder, as it directly parallels his future self in the worst of ways.)

I think a lot about how so many things could have gone wrong during the course of the movie with even a little bit of a change, but it really is harrowing how much of a coin-flip the entirety of the Prison Dimension rescue was.

[tragicvampireromanceisland]

thinking so long and hard about joyness once more…like yesss they are very cute and sweet and all but i think them getting together even after their History is sooo interesting. like, does joy first start hanging out around sadness and talking with her more often out of guilt? is it performative? when does it stop being performative?? and at what point does joy realize it’s stopped being performative? how does joy feel when every single interaction she has with sadness after the events of the first movie are just like…constant reminders of how she screwed up with her prior? liking someone who makes her feel that bad when she normally never lingers on what she's done wrong just seems so counterintuitive (fun fact: joy has literally never genuinely apologized for anything she's done, across both movies. she's acknowledged and fixed her mistakes before, sure, but she has never expressed guilt so straightforwardly like that. is she simply incapable of it? or has she just...never given importance to feeling guilty before so long as she can just Fix her mistake? just something very interesting i've noticed...)!!

like, joy’s canonically admitted that she’s literally tried to kick sadness out of headquarters before. that’s truly how little joy thought of her before she got to know her better…she totally would have been fine with just. never seeing her again. imagine disliking your coworker THAT much since the very first day you met her and now you have feelings for her…?! not a possibility joy ever would have considered, and i think joy would struggle a Lot with coming to terms with that initially. she is the Queen of cognitive dissonance. of being Delusional. it’s HARD to shake off old habits just like that!! joy is someone who very much doesn’t fully acknowledge how she feels until it gets so intense it bubbles up to the surface and breaks through her usual demeanor (we’ve seen that both with how she’s gotten sad and angry before…who’s to say romance would not be the same. i think she’d just keep denying it until she just. has an Ah Shit moment with sadness one day. probably over something completely mundane).

and it certainly doesn’t help that sadness is, well. Sadness! she clearly admires joy from the very beginning even when joy treated her so poorly (knowing her she probably thought she deserved it…sigh). she’d literally just assume absolutely nothing would come out of her feelings. and you know she probably might even romanticize and Enjoy it in a weird way…i mean think about it. she canonically likes sad romance novels…this is her own "tragic romance" (apparently. SUPPOSEDLY) so i think she’d kind of insistently cling to that. define their entire relationship as unrequited and reallyyy lean into it and warp anything that happens otherwise to fit her little Doomed Yuri vision. she's observant as hell for pretty much everything, normally, but she just has goddamn Horse Blinders on for just this one thing specifically.

she’s just completely unaware of how fundamentally she’s changed joy and shattered her entire worldview (meanwhile joy is just busy having a whole crisis about exactly that). and NOW she has to deal with actually being treated like she matters, both by joy and the other emotions?? helloooo? she’s definitely got a lot to process by this point because Her entire way of living has changed too now in an entirely different direction.

AND then you add to that how it's pretty clear that sadness knows joy pretty well, but joy still has a Lot to learn about sadness because she never gave her a chance before...very much a recipe for guilt and confusion and miscommunication and other such weird occurrences to arise.

BASICALLY tldr theyre both kind of idiots and i think their dynamic is a little more complicated than people give it credit for. joyness is a veryyy. She fell first (sadness) she fell harder (joy) type of dynamic. To Me.

[finns-kardemumma]

feeling so incredibly normal about stedes earring. feeling soooo normal about ed finding that piercing under tufts of blond hair and whispering "fuck off" under his breath

[astriiformes]

Hi, i just learned about the scientific revolution in europe at school. Can you tell me why you dont think scientific revolutions exist? im curious!

So I feel like I have to lead with the fact that I'm kind of arguing two different points when I say scientific revolutions aren't really a thing

One is that I'm objecting to a specific, extremely foundational theory of scientific revolutions that was put forth by the philosopher Thomas Kuhn, which I think really misrepresents how science is actually practiced in the name of fitting things to a nice model. The other is that I think the fundamental problem with the idea is that it's too vague to effectively describe an actual process that happens.

It's certainly true that there are important advances in science that get referred to as "revolutions" that fundamentally changed their fields -- the shift from the Ptolemaic model of the Solar System to the Copernican one, Darwin's theory of evolution, etc. But there are historians of science (who I tend to agree with) that feel that terming these advances "revolutions" ignores the fact that science is an continuous, accretional process, and somewhat sensationalizes the process of scientific change in the name of celebrating particular scientists or theories over others.

Kuhn's model that he put forth in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (which is one of those books that itself stirred a great deal of activity in a number of fields) suggests science evolves via what he called "paradigm shifts," where new ideas become fundamentally incompatible with the old model or way of doing things, causing a total overturn in the way scientists see the world, and establishing a new paradigm -- which will eventually cave to another when it, too, ceases to function effectively as a model. This theory became extraordinarily popular when it was published, but it's somewhat telling who it's remained popular with. Economists, political scientists, and literary theorists still use Kuhn, but historians of science, in my experience at least, see his work as historically significant but incompatible with how history is actually studied.

Kuhn posits that between paradigm shifts there are periods of "normal science" where paradigms are unquestioned and anomalies in the current model are largely ignored, until they reach a critical mass and cause a scientific revolution. In reality though, there is often real discussion of those anomalies, and I think the scientific process is not nearly so content to ignore them as Kuhn thinks. Throughout history, we see people expressing a real discontent with unsolved mysteries the current scientific model fails to explain, and glossing over those simply because the individuals in question didn't manage to formulate breakthrough theories to "solve" those problems props up the somewhat infamous "great men" model of history of science, where we focus only on the most famous people in the field as significant instead of acknowledging that science is a social enterprise and no research happens in a vacuum!

Beyond disagreeing with Kuhn specifically though, I think the idea of scientific revolutions vastly simplifies how science evolves and changes, and is ultimately a really ahistorical way of thinking about shifts in thinking. Take the example of the shift from Ptolemaic, geocentric thought to the heliocentric Copernican model of the solar system. When does this supposed "revolution" in thought actually start, and when does it "end" by becoming firmly established? You could argue that the publication of Copernicus' De revolutionibus orbium coelestium in 1543 was the beginning of the shift in thinking -- but of course, then you have the problem of asking where Copernicus' ideas came from in the first place.

The "great men" model of history would suggest Copernicus was a uniquely talented individual who managed to suggest something no one else had ever put forth, but realistically, he was influenced by the scientists who came before him, just like anyone else. There were real objections to the Ptolemaic model during the medieval era! One of the most famous problems in medieval astronomy was the fact that assuming a geocentric model makes the behavior of the planets seem really weird to an observer on Earth, referred to as retrograde motion, which had to be solved with a complicated system of epicycles that people knew wasn't quite working, even if they weren't able to put together exactly why. There were even ancient Greek astronomers who suggested that the sun was at the center of the solar system, going all the way back to Aristarchus of Samos who lived from around 310-230 BCE!

Putting an end point to the Copernican revolution poses similar challenges. Some people opt to suggest that what Copernicus started, either Galileo or Newton finished (which in and of itself means the "revolution" lasted around 100-150 years), but are we defining the shift in terms of new theories, or the consensus of the scientific community? The latter is much harder to pinpoint, and in my opinion as an aspiring historian of science, also much more important. Again, science doesn't happen in a vacuum. Copernicus, Galileo, and Newton may be more famous than their peers, but that doesn't mean the rest of the Renaissance scientific community didn't matter.

Ultimately it's a matter of simple models like Kuhn's (or other definitions of scientific revolutions) being insufficient to explain the complexity of history. Both because science is a complex endeavor, and because it isn't independent from the rest of history. Sure, it's genuinely amazing to consider that Copernicus' De revolutionibus orbium coelestium and the anatomist Andreas Vesalius' similarly influential De humani corporis fabrica were published the same year, and it says something about the intellectual climate of the time. But does it say something about science only, or is it also worth remembering that the introduction of typographic printing a century prior drastically changed how scientists communicated and whose ideas stuck and were remembered? On a similar note, we credit Darwin with suggesting the theory of evolution (and I could write a similarly long response just on the many, many influences in geology and biology both that went into his formulation of said theory), but what does it say that Alfred Russel Wallace independently came up with the theory of natural selection around the same time? Is it sheer coincidence, or does it have more to do with conversations that were already happening in the scientific community both men belonged to that predated the publication of the Origin?

I think that the concept of scientific revolutions is an important part of the history of the history of science, and has its place when talking about how we conceive of certain periods of history. But I'm a skeptic of it being a particularly accurate model, largely on the grounds of objecting to the "great men" model of history and the idea that shifts in thinking can be boiled down to a few important names and dates.

There's a famous Isaac Newton quote (which, fittingly, did not originate with Newton himself, but can be traced back even further to several medieval thinkers) in which he states "If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants." I would argue that science, as an endeavor, is far more like standing on the shoulder of several hundred thousand other people in a trenchcoat. This social element of research is exactly why it's so hard to pull apart any one particular revolution, even when fairly revolutionary theories change the direction of the research that's happening. Ideas belong to a long evolutionary chain, and even if it occasionally goes through periods of punctuated equilibrium, dividing that history into periods of revolution and stagnancy ignores the rich scientific tradition of the "in-between" periods, and the contributions of scientists who never became famous for their work.

[labyrinthofpassion]

I made a 4 hour 9-1-1 deep dive because this show cured my depression (sort of.) anyone in this thread seen Step Up: All In?

[slowlysoluminary]

after that wack-tastic piece of media i figured we could all!! use a break!!!!!!! so!!!!!!

(more) doodles below the cut. and some commentary! Hurray!

^^ Post game is interesting. Most of the timeloop is about figuring the deal with the memories, some of it is about sif comng to terms with the king, and the very very end of it is about everyone regaining their memories.

so i say it again post game is REALLY interesting!!! because everyone, collectively, is trying to balance their old memories and their new memories. everyone except siffrin. who is not 1:1 old siffrin but is the closest to it, considering how much loop's been through.

loop??? becomes corporeal at some point in the end.

it's very bittersweet! i think! the whole of the party does an "i want to remember!!!" sequence, fighting with their own minds to fill the gaping holes they'd always ignored.

-- loop, after realizing the extent to which they're familiar with the party, had tried desperately to get the party to remember them throughout the loops. in hopes that something would change. they never remembered.

at the same time, siffrin is talking to the king - they're fighting with eachother physically and verbally, desperately trying to get the other understand. resetfrin is not the siffrin the king hated so earnestly, not the siffrin he tried to snuff out.

over the course of many conversations with the king, siffrin caught on. the king is the major lore dump here and is who causes most of the narrative development because i say so !!!!!!!!!!!!

actually. about post game. do you know why their designs are like that

resetfrin hated the lack of autonomy he had over their own body so they decided to. cut their hair. it's a bit curlier now that there's not a lot weighing it down

they decided not to keep the star stuff the king gave them. yada yada character development or whatever.

they gave their cloak to loop!! who is. siffrin again. physically at least. both siffrins are siffrin but with clear differences! like hair length and hair texture! and ohhhhhhhh no what do you mean the universe gave them the wrong body?? what?????? how cruel!!! how blasphemous!!!!!!!

loop hated the idea of keeping her hair darkless (mirror pronouns for loop btw!!! remember that!!!). it reminded them of what it was like to be ghostloop. which they hated!!! but they couldn't have their hair be lightless because that was resetfrin's new thing, so... they just. kept dying the bottom parts of it lightless. it's a compromise

how does the party distinguish the two siffrins, name-wise? uhhhhhh. ask me that question later. idk.

if.... if i have pre-game planned out. and post-game planned out.

then the inly thing I don't have planned out is the ACTUAL time loop bit

it's quite daunting because? that's like the entire point of the original game? it feels like i hve to live up to so much and like fhe loops have to have such a packed, coherent story

though, to be fair, most of what I'm writing will just be. the time loop bit. so i guess I'm figuring it out as i go

anyway, actually talking about the two sketches above, ghostloop is for SIFFRIN'S EYES ONLY!!! she can hit things but things can't hit her and all that.

after figuring out, through past loops, that the King can't see them, they realized siffrin was their only connection to the physical world. The Last Piece Left of them, physically and metaphorically. the whole time they longed for something else to acknowledge their existence. acknowledge theyre real

they also realize they can do Fuckery

the king has a Sixth Sense for loop's Fuckery,,, flipping him The Bird resulted in a rather quick death for Siffrin. whoops!!!!!

this au is. more closely revolved around gloop than i thought. don't worry!! i have a lot of gloop content planned! but. but you need to understand the pain of resetfrin and the king. the misery snd desperation fhe king felt about his country. siffrin pleading with the king, countlessly, hoping to see some SEMBLANCE of the man he once knew. you need to know the missing pieces the party finds, a hollow feeling settling itself around their hearts. you need to know so bad.

so you'll get gloop content! i am a big fan of the little guy myself, really. but !!! this au is not ONLY about them, believe it or not! hehe. haha. giggles. ok ill stop

[lost-in-fandoms]

seven words: max w stubble burn on inner thighs

Hello friend, I'm sorry this took so long, the weekend was....that.

cw: explicit sexual content. obviously.

It had come up, once.

Daniel had been in the bathroom, carefully shaving, trying to see on the fogged up mirror, Max just coming out of the shower, wet and flushed, carelessly wrapping a towel around his hips.

"Why do you do that?" Max had asked, coming closer to press his warm chest against Daniel's naked back, hooking his chin on top of Daniel's shoulder, dangerously close to Daniel's still foamed up cheek.

"Do what?" Daniel had nudged him back a little, not wanting to accidentally cut him but not wanting him to let go either, trying to meet Max's eyes in the mirror and only getting a blurred version of them back.

"Shave," Max had said, kissing Daniel's shoulder, hips grinding slightly against him even though he wasn't hard, from what Daniel could tell through the towel.

"You shave too," Daniel had pointed out, nudging him again to be able to tilt his head back to get his jaw better.

Max had just waved a hand, as if Daniel was being stupid on purpose, and had then touched his wrist, stopping his movement and taking the razor from him. He had turned him around, pushing him against the sink, and cupped his neck with a hand, holding him still.

"You can't see in the mirror and are making a mess," he had said, steady and casual, a complete opposite from Daniel's heartbeat, racing in his chest.

"What do you mean, about my shaving?" he had asked after a moment, trying to distract himself from the feeling of Max's fingertips on his skin, his hips keeping Daniel in place.

For a long moment, Max had kept quiet, focusing on Daniel's face.

"I cannot grow a good one, that's why I shave it. And I would not look good in it, I think," he had finally said, glaring at Daniel when he had tried to speak to refute that last point, making him stay still. "But you take care of it, so I do not understand why you keep shaving it."

Daniel had frown, receiving one more look for it, and then had asked: "do you not like it?", which had gained him another. Honestly, how did Max want him to answer questions if he couldn't move?

"You are of course always very handsome, Daniel," Max had rolled his eyes, carefully going over an area Daniel was pretty sure he had already shaved. It had been unclear if it was to prolong the process or because Daniel had missed a spot.

The full answer, obviously, had been too complicated to be put into the right amount of words that wouldn't have ended up with a razor cut on his cheek, so he had deflected instead.

"I do it for you, baby," he had said, using a pause in the shaving in which Max had been rinsing off the razor to throw him a grin, "wouldn't want to give you beard burn."

He had been expecting Max to joke back, or to roll his eyes at him, but Max had averted his eyes instead, a blush creeping suspiciously onto his cheeks.

It had made Daniel raise an eyebrow, suddenly delighted with this new information.

"Unless you like it?" he had prodded, unable to stop his smile from growing.

Max had just blushed more, slapping his shoulder and grabbing his jaw a touch harder than necessary.

"Shut up," he had grumbled, more of a yes than if he had actually said it, "or I'll leave you like this."

Daniel had wanted to tease him more, but he hadn't known how real the threat was, and he had decided to be safe, not wanting to have to walk around with just half a shaved face.

--

No matter what happens in the rest of his life, both on and off track, Daniel is sure he'll never stop feeling lucky knowing he's the only one who gets to have Max like this.

Max, sweating and writhing under him, chest flushed and warm, cheeks a mess of spit and tears, mouth open and drooling. Max, spilling moans, whimpers and pleas on the pillow like a rosary, pearls stringing Daniel's arousal along.

Max, trying to push closer and twist away at the same time, oversensitive and overwhelmed, while Daniel holds him still, both hands clutching the meat of his ass, red imprints on pale skin, as he licks a long, wet stripe from his hole to his balls.

From his position between Max's legs, most of the skin Daniel can see is flushed red. His dick, red and heavy despite Max having come once already, his back, red and shiny with sweat, his ass and thighs, red and raw from Daniel's beard.

He nips at the top of Max's thigh, right over a mark he had left earlier, and Max's whole body shakes as he yelps, hands slipping uselessly on the sheets looking for something to hold onto, even Daniel's name reduced to nothing more than a slurred mess on his tongue.

Daniel licks another stripe back up, purposefully dragging his beard on Max's ass. He would almost feel bad about it if he didn't know how much Max likes it, despite complaining about it the day after, when Daniel has to rub lotion into the irritated skin. If he didn't feel the way Max's thighs shake, didn't hear the way Max's moans go high and breathy.

He doesn't give him a break before shifting his grip on Max's cheeks, putting two fingers back in his hole, tongue tucked between them. Max screams, pushing back and then immediately away, forcing Daniel to wrap his arm around his waist to hold his hips up.

He feels so lucky.

His whole face feels sticky with spit and lube when he pulls back again, watching Max's hole fluttering around the newfound emptiness, leaving Max whimpering. His dick has been so hard for so long Daniel is half worried it will fall off if he doesn't do something about it soon.

He slips a condom on as Max begs for him, impatiently shifting on the bed, so far gone he's moaning even now that Daniel is barely touching him.

He knows it won't take long for either of them to come, but it doesn't matter, not when Max feels so good around him, not when they're both so worked up.

"Bath?" Daniel asks afterwards, drawing circles on Max's back as their breathing slows down.

Max is still pink, heartbeat fast under Daniel's hands, slumped boneless and sated against his chest. He hums, not even opening his eyes, and there's something like pride swirling in Daniel's stomach at the knowledge that he was the one who made him like this.

He trails one hand down further, gently touching Max's ass where his skin is red and raw, making him shudder.

"I'll shave tomorrow," he says, ignoring Max's displeased grumble, "and I'll make sure to use plenty of that lotion you like."

Max grumbles again, rubbing his cheek against Daniel's skin like a cat, sleepy and satisfied.

"You better," he says, sounding more than half asleep already, as if all of this hadn't been his idea anyway.

[thetechnicolorphase]

silly doggy save me