#the weirdest/most fucked up thing was like

[randum-famdoms]

As someone with a much larger vocabulary than the average American (due to various factors, but personally I attribute this to the terrible American education system more than anything else), I’ve genuinely considered starting to screen record while I’m writing essays for college as proof that I’m not using ai to cheat, unless you count spell check as ai. Which I don’t, and any sane person wouldn’t either.

AI checkers are faulty at best and genuinely broken beyond comprehension at worst. I lean towards the worst side of the scale. There have been countless cases of these things just flat out not working, whether that’s through false positives or not catching actual ai use.

I think the worst or maybe just weirdest case I’ve seen was a situation where one of my friend’s classmates got flagged for ai use because they included a block quote that the checker decided was suspicious. A fucking quote. Ya know, the one thing in an essay that you don’t write yourself.

Insanity.

I hadn’t heard about this trend of ai checkers forcing people to dumb down their words leading to actual published works being dumbed down before. I mean, I knew about the results, but I’d assumed that it was caused by the general trend of the American populous getting “dumber”. By which I mean that each year there are statically more people graduating with lower reading levels/worse understanding of how things like science and math work. It’s not their fault, the American education system is deeply flawed and underfunded more and more every year and far too many parents let iPads raise children instead of actually parenting. And the iPad baby bit is making things even worse year by year as more and more content for kids (and adults) is ai generated. It’s much more complicated than that, but I’m not about to go into minutia over this in a tumblr post.

The general trend toward content (including published books) being dumbed down is caused by a lot of factors. Pressure from publishers and higher ups, ai, the general lower standards of pre-college education (and college too, but less so for now), being raised by the internet, the fact that the internet is so consumed by ai and it worsens every day, the list goes on.

Ai isn’t the only source for these problems, but the fact remains that it is simultaneously the method being used to enforce the trend and most of the other sources can trace back their roots to AI in some way or another.

And frankly we can’t do Jack shit about it. At least, we can’t do anything to stop ai. It’s far too late for that.

What we can do is try for now to make sure our own writing isn’t mislabeled as AI, not by dumbing it down but rather by providing proof that you were the one to write it. We can make sure that when we have kids they don’t get access to ai and that they are raised by a human, not by a computer. We can try to help schools get more funding. We can rate books that haven’t been dumbed down higher than ones than have, and maybe even message publishers to tell them that they are idiots if they think their readers want something written so boringly.

We can’t stop generative ai, but we can learn how to coexist with it.

[dragongirlbunny]

im still not over the fucked up dream i had last night

[daxite]

you could not even pay me to give a single shit about "fat representation" but why does almost everyone on tumblr draw falin fat yet barely anyone draws laios fat lol

[philtatosbuck]

no matter how strange marcel and rebekah is they could have easily fixed it with having rebekah be daggered while marcel was being raised sure it'd still be weird but it wouldn't be As weird.

[princeofhags]

i just finished reading about iraestra so wand of twilight for her as well!

Wand of Twilight. Iraestra conjures a spirit from the land of the dead to speak to them.

FANTASY PROMPTS | @foxboyclit

Smoke floods the altar in fragrant plumes, the familiar taste of myrrh coating the back of Iraestra's throat uncomfortably. Her steps, purposefully measured and slow, sound monstrous in the cavernous wings of the ceremonial chamber. The peace is further broken by the occasional murmur of an invocation or rustling cloth. There has been no order given for silence, but the trepidation hanging heavy in the air as the incense enforces the command. They all wait in the lurch of a breathless hush, an animal instinct to a known threat. Still, so that the hunter is not enthralled by your fleeing. Anticipation before the blow.

Does their visitor scent the fear he instills in the air, like a hound? Does the chorus of thrumming hearts beckon to him like the call of war drums? Bodies, so many bodies for him to open and bleed.

Itaestra does not doubt that he often relishes it. Bhaalspawn are such curious, depraved half-beasts.

Prince of the Blood. A self-given title, perhaps, but she has heard the reverence Bhaal's faithful pour at his feet like wine libations. Their honored guest is heir to a butcher's legacy. She thinks him little more than a glorified killer draped in the dressings of grandeur.

Iraestra does not cower or draw back from him, but there is still an instinctual unease at the thought of a Bhaalspawn being familiar with her. The Dread Lord’s wicked heirs do not know friends, only warm bodies to bite with steel. The world to them is already dead, merely waiting to be torn asunder to show its truest color: the crimson of fresh spilt blood.

A hedonistic dogma. She holds her tongue due to the respect granted to Bhaal by her own unholy master.

She observes the preparations for the ritual with only half an eye, attention commanded by the ophidian silhouette haunting the edge of the room. What a disquieting picture he paints. His height causes him to loom terribly, heads and shoulders above the flock of mortal meat. He need not even draw his weapon to kill half the room should he wish it. Each finger is tipped with a talon that catches the candlelight with each of his clenching hand. When he had spoken, his teeth had stood out vividly against the stone-black gleam of his scales. The dried gore on his scales embrace him as intimately as any lover.

The wicked length of a barbed tail flickers in what may be a sign of agitation in his people, or merely a quirk of the extra limb. His attention is riveted on the altar. She half expects it to catch aflame.

She attempts not to concern herself with his growing impatience. Any fool can cast a spell to converse with the departed; a Myrkulite only does so at the behest of another and the blessings of the Bone Lord. She will not disregard the tenants of her faith even for this Prince.

"You're eager," she observes. The dragonborn has not left the corpse's side since it was brought to her. Curious. He must be thoroughly invested in the secrets it would spill. "It was good that you preserved the jaw. A wasted trip had you not," she stops by the head, only the breadth of a few steps between her and the Prince.

At that, he finally regards her. Even in his initial instructions he had been short with her. "What of a tongue?

"Is this a theoretical or practical query?" Short of the patience to wait for an answer, Iraestra snaps at one of the attendants. "Bone Talker, check the mouth."

Questing fingers find only half of the appendage still intact. If removed before death, exsanguination is as likely a cause as any.

"It will do," she decides. "I am ready to begin." Her attendants step back as one.

The body has been prepared as best they can given its mangled state. This man, who can be no older than twenty, bares the marks of a slow death. The skull, partially caved, rests unevenly on the cloth. He does not even look peaceful now, as the victims of violence rarely do.

She steps forward, hands rising from her sides. Iraestra readies herself to speak the ancient words.

"Alone," the Prince's clipped voice rings out clearly. Not a request. Demand.

Iraestra hisses her frustration. Better vexation, than dread. She knows the vestments of anger well, slips into them like a second skin. Her mouth twists, her shoulders draw tight. Her hands are half-formed claws in the air. She hears the pound of her own heart in her ears.

What is so important that it cannot be witnessed by the others? What is to be done with her, who will attend to the questioning herself?

"Mistress?" Every cowled head in the room turns to look at her. They hear the call for her death as vividly as she. One of the fools is brave enough to step towards her, as if they could truly do anything to intervene. She admires them for their stupidity.

The Prince watches her, well aware of what he asks for. Trust or faith or maybe both. Clearly, he is looking for a reaction. Will she falter, will she balk? Could he make a bouquet of the stench of her unease? He regards her with a snake's stare, eyes cold licks of fire. He does not blink.

If he thinks he can subdue her so easily, then he is sorely mistaken. She is drow. She is Oblodra. Her own mother's hands were the first to ever try to take her life. He will find no easy marks here today. Let him slake his thirsts elsewhere. There are other, weaker creatures for him to gorge himself on.

"Leave us," Iraestra does not take her eyes from the Prince. She does not speak or move again until the door clicks shut behind the last attendant. How awfully similar it sounds to the closing stone of a tomb.

She rounds on him, irritation clear. "Why did you ask for me?"

The Prince is the first to look away, back to her hands and then the body. Iraestra does not feel like she has won anything of merit. It is impossible to tell if he is pleased. "The Banite confides in you. I thought to do the same."

He does not give a name, nor does she ask for it. She wonders at what the Prince knows of her talks with the other Chosen.

"And what if his confidence is misplaced?" A theoretical. Her loyalty is not often brought into question. It is rare that she pledges it at all.

"Then I will kill you," the Prince simply states.

She laughs. That intention is only the natural conclusion of the dance. There is no greater aim for those of his depraved bent. "So you say. Did you not plan to do so already?"

His head tilts in a particularly reptilian gesture. His glittering eyes have found the pulse in her throat, her bare wrists. She cares not for his study. It feels too much like a physical caress, high beneath dress and robe. One hunger is not too different from another, and she supposes they may be frighteningly the same for him. Both indulgences of the flesh, in the end. "Do not tempt me. Your blood would spill sweetly on this floor."

Iraestra sneers. "Cast your fetid gaze elsewhere, brute. You will not find easy prey in me."

He chuckles darkly. "Of that I am sure. I would savor the challenge as much as anything else."

"I was under the impression that there were more pressing matters at hand, given your early insistence on haste."

"Time can always be afforded for pleasure, sorceress. Consider the feel of silk on the skin. The burst of fruit between teeth and the rush of the juice down your chin, the clench of a lover tight around you as they sob your name. That final, shuddering breath that flutters out of the throat at death. Do you not feel the drum of the heart in your own chest? Do you not wish to dance to it? If you are so indifferent to it, I could show you how to listen to it once more. To feel it." How reverently he speaks, as if he is at the shrine of his own father-god. His lids have nearly closed in rapture.

There's smoke in the dragonborn's mouth and anticipation in his words, thick enough to choke on. He whispers with the tongue of a snake, words dripping from the depravities he utters.

As mad as his sister, the shape-changer, Iraestra decides with disdain. The seed of Bhaal is truly cursed with madness, complete and true. It was preferable when he was barely acknowledging her presence despite demanding it in the first place.

"You have nothing that I desire." Were she younger, still a fool turned by a pretty face, she may have once allowed herself to be seduced by the offer. She ignores the answering hook of arousal low in her gut, focusing once more on the misshapen head on the pillow. Reminds herself of whose hands exactly have crushed it. There is much to do before she is ready for the grave. "Now, if you will allow me to get on with this, we may be each rid of the other before long."

“A pity that you deny yourself,” but he nods. “Perform your rites. Regretfully, I cannot linger for long.” 

Iraestra does not regret that. She is exhausted and enthralled by him in equal measure. Let this be the first and last time she suffers his company. 

She begins her prayer to the dead. 

[troiings]

Myanna Buring as Melody Munro (Hot Property, 2016)

[ditttiii]

it's every single time i give myself a minute to breathe. a minute away from people, places, distractions, running away from my reality--when the heartbreak catches up and hits me. knocks my fucking breath out.

[maximusboltaqon]

ok yes we've seen bb let out of his room and seeing his family for the first time/getting hugged for the first time but what about his reaction to *life* following that. what about seeing the sunset, or hearing thunder and feeling the rain, or seeing the stars and staring at them for hours because he's never seen the sky before.

what about being able to feel the breeze and hear children laughing and watching the streets and seeing people everywhere, who take all of that for granted, because none of *them* spent 19 years, their entire lives, trapped and contained in one room. he didn't smell cooking food until he was 19. he didnt see the seasons change or hear birds chirping or have bugs land on his arm for just a moment before flying off again.

he never had the chance to play in the mud or jump in puddles or try to get all the sand off after being at the beach. he never had the opportunity at all until he was 19.

how do you even begin to acclimate after that level of isolation?

[liyazaki]

.

[waywardsalt]

unorganized ganonbeck brainworms going strong so now im thinking about ssbu ganonbeck cuz thats where it all began and its also just a really good ganonbeck premise

i mean, off the bat, ganondorf is a main playable character (i think y’all call em ‘smashers’? idk) and linebeck in ssbu is a master spirit so theyre both likely going to be known across the board by other spirits and smashers, so… they’re known. they can’t exactly fly under the radar and are generally visually noticeable, too.

i think ssbu ganonbeck is at its funniest when they’re trying to keep it a secret.

i mean, there’s probably hints in the beginning, linebeck going out of his way to watch ganondorf fight, ganondorf being seen talking with linebeck more often, other legend of zelda smashers and spirits having their own complicated feelings about these specific people seemingly getting to know each other better.

(im specifically interested in reactions from… idk specifically villains associated with ganondorf or… ANYONE canonically associated with ganondorf lol. linebeck just has toon link on his side)

the beginning stuff probably ramps up to slightly surprising stuff, linebeck seeking out ganondorf more often despite what people might assume of him, going as far as asking him to get drinks or something, and ganondorf just being oddly interested in what linebeck has to say over some others that make more sense and occasionally brining up things that linebeck has told him, this going all the way up to the two of them being noticeably flustered around each other, clearly signifying something-

and then to onlookers things appear to taper off back to just being friendly.

before things taper off, other spirits and smashers begin to take more notice, keeping an eye on ganondorf and linebeck out of curiosity, but once things appear to settle on just simply being friendly that attention goes elsewhere.

(of course, behind closed doors both literally and metaphorically, at that point ganondorf and linebeck start dating, but due to the prior attention decided it would be best just to keep it under wraps, out of irritation towards that attention and out of some sense that the knowledge of them dating wouldn’t go over well for some of the spirits or smashers, plus [mostly on linebecks end] worry over others making a stir over how odd the pairing is)

so time passes but people also start to notice that ganondorf is… less of an asshole? he seems to be in a better mood more often and while no one is really upset about that, it is curious and worth looking into.

it takes about a week for a group of smashers and spirits to (correctly) deduce that ganondorf is dating someone, and keeping it a secret. they can’t just ask ganondorf, so now there’s this little investigation group trying to figure out who’s caught ganondorf’s eye, and linebeck is removed from the suspect list because of course not, he’s more likely to be afraid of ganondorf and why would ganondorf be romantically interested in some random guy like that, they clearly dont have anything in common- (the group does not know about linebeck’s history of possession [he prefers to keep it secret], he still uses his old facade around the majority of people, and it is not common knowledge that he’s kind of a freak)

ganondorf and linebeck catch wind of the investigation and figure out their own set of excuses and hiding spots and every possible method of keeping things secret, so its practically a game to them as the investigating smashers and spirits go off on a wild goose chase the moment they eliminated linebeck as a suspect.

not every smasher or spirit cares about this investigation (they’ve seen enough relationships pop up and don’t really care about this new one) so in the midst of this mess, ganondorf and linebeck plan their next meetup based on what the investigation group are doing (without accounting for an uninterested party) and wind up getting walked in on by a group of smashers not involved with the investigation

linebeck and ganondorf end up being massively relived that the group that found them wont say anything (i always figure like. lucina (shes seen enough relationship shit to not care rn) cloud (its Not His Business) and sheik (really just wasnt interested) are the ones who find out), and the discovery group leave with exactly one rule: do not let toon link find out.

cue more ganondorf and linebeck figuring out ways to keep things secret, this time with a small group who do know, but they inevitably slip up a few more times so more and more people are in on it until the fact that they are actually dating gets out.

eventually, things flip; ganondorf and linebeck are no longer trying to keep their relationship a secret from everyone, everyone is trying to keep it a secret from toon link.

[box-dwelling]

Yeah because those cases were actually fun.

You don't get to mock turn about goodbyes and reclaimed if the case your giving me is dull as shit and drawn out to hell.

I literally stopped this case half way through to replay goodbyes because I needed to remember that this series isn't actually bad and boring and it's just this case. Keep her name out of your dirty fucking mouth

[mooshkat]

lmao

[bitd]

dear magnus (SUPER old oc project) is on my mind again and its like. magnus + washington are so funny. [shows up at your house because its the apocalypse and i dont know where else to go] Um hi

[fallenfawnn]

The one thing I want to know about you? Hm... You post a lot of dark fantasies, but what's the most fucked up thing that you think you might actually want to experience? Context: I will absolutely *not* judge you for wanting something to remain in the world of fantasy, I'm just curious because you seem interesting.

um this type of question is super hard for me to answer for multiple reasons.. idk how to quantify what “most fucked up” is. lots of things r fucked up n idk how to compare. i also think “wud actually want to experience” is like a wishy washy grey area for me n idk how to draw a line on it.. i just.. i can’t answer open ended things like this at all and ive never been able to bc there is toooo much to consider n too many options and my brain gets too overwhelmed

[g0reoz]

i am NOT beating the sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g allegations 😖

[sayaratyriea]

sometimes i really wish that the people in court were fictional characters, so i could laugh at their unhinged goofy nonsense instead of just feeling depressed for the innocent people putting up with them