#there's basically zero physical traces of it

[blaiddraws]

dragon based on the theoretical Lockheed CL-1201. giant cryptid in the sky

[megumifuckmeguro]

A-Z [almost] SEX WITH CHOSO KAMO

As most of my sexy supporters know [171] as well as my poor infographics, long-form writing is not for me but I tried guys!!!!! 🎀

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

 Cuddling, cuddles, being cuddled. No cleaning, he doesn’t wanna. I no no wanna :(

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Yours: Everything about you, if your in a relationship with him he expects that you will accept him for who he is, despite his interesting background, as he does the same for you. He cannot even fathom favouritism for any part of your body but he does unconsciously touch your hands a lot, during sex, cuddling, tracing them with his own. He’s very expressive with his hands in the show too (breaking Mahito’s game piece when he’s angry, crushing Mechumaru…when he’s angry)

His: He’s proud of his big arms and built back, it makes him feel masculine and worthy enough to protect you..and his tongue…so he can taste you everywhere

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

 Patient zero for hyperspermia (producing too much cum to a medical level)

Piercing cum

His cum is so projectile, it moves his dick side to side as it spurts out.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

If you just allowed him, he would be more than willing to do dirtier things to you. The curse part of him gives zero fucks and would eat you out during your period or drink your squirt, just to make you feel good. Since he hasn’t been in his human form for too long, the preconceived associations of body fluids being disgusting just isn’t conditioned into him, especially when it comes to you. He rlly dgaf

 E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?):

 0 pussy in 150+ years…yet a quick learner

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

 Missionary, to see your face and learn your reactions. Mating press when it gets very passionate.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.):

N/A

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He doesn’t pay attention to it but if you point it out he’s more than willing to groom himself for your approval.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect):

 Very romantic, he only wants sex for romance, just another means to show his passionate love to you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He lowkey feels guilty for jacking off as he’s wasting cum that he could’ve spent making you feel good and one day impregnating you, you’ll probably have to reassure him that it’s okay for him release himself because you won’t always be there to take care of it.

He rubs off to pictures of you, not even a nude, just like..you and him smiling next to the Eiffel tower or something.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

 Bed, coach somewhere safe, and away from people and curses. you could convince him to do it in the woods but he should feel like it’s safe enough.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

 He doesn’t need motivation. He’s needy 24/7 but just doesn’t wanna overwhelm you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs):

 Just doesn’t want to harm you, physically or emotionally. If you ask him to be rougher with his words or to choke you or something…he’ll try…but it will come off half-hearted or hesitant “you’re such a…slut..” he frowns “y/n” he says softly “why do you wanna be called this again?” LOOL

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

Definitely prefers giving, because he just wants to please you, and honestly blowjobs can be too stimulating for him, he would rather cherish your pussy by eating it slow, eyes droopy, dark eyebrows slightly upturned, kitten licks on your clit like it would produce milk. Much more enjoyable to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

 Can be both, it depends on the mood if your egging him on with dirty words he might clench his teeth and push you into a mating press fucking you deep and fast like an animal.

He could also be loving and breathless and whiny, fucking you slow and deep, holding your head down with both hands staring into your eyes intensely. He’s breathing harshly through his nose, trying not to succumb to overwhelming passion.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

 He doesn’t really like them, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need them, he definitely yearns for you in public or when your busy, he would fuck hard and fast in the moment but gets post-nut clarity, he wishes he savoured you longer. He pushes his dick slower and slower, trying to prolong the moment even after cumming giving you pleading but knowing eyes, that the moment was just a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.):

 No way, your safety is his top priority, as an older brother he has confidence in his ability to protect and make the right choices for their safety, that will also include yours. So he wouldn’t risk hurting you or having sex in a comprising environment.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?):

However long you let him, he can stay hard as many times as he likes since he can control the blood flow in his body.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

He’s okay with them as long as his dick or his hands or mouth is inside you too. He doesn’t wanna miss out, otherwise he’ll probably get jealous of the dildo lol.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

 N/A

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

 At first, he tries not to make too much noise, as he is a man who’s only ever known to fight, vulnerability like slipping the control of his voice, subconsciously he tries to make sure it doesn’t. He’s not very good at it though, just reassure him once and he’ll be truthfully loud and whiny from then on just because you accept him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He really really enjoys it when after sex, you place your head on his lap and innocently seek comfort in the warmth of his flaccid cock and balls while you’re both watching tv or cuddling or something.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Red tip dick due to increase blood flow, very stiff and very girthy. Many many stiff textured veins. Big heavy balls.

Z=Zzz(How fast do they fall asleep after?):

Regularly he doesn’t fall asleep very easily , he’s a light sleeper, but his cock being warm in his pants after cumming for you helps him fall asleep better and faster.

[transmutationisms]

You’ve introduced me to so many topics in theory but there are days when I have no idea what you’re talking about and i twirl my hair and kick my feet while I’m lying on my bed and giggle like omg tell me more

hi megan <3 this is fair also sometimes i am truly talking out my ass and making zero effort to make a thought comprehensible to anyone else lol but i remember you've read some of the 'speculative materialists' so you would probably get a kick out of this:

basically i was mostly just drafting a paragraph explaining how the french 'idéologues' in the 1790s-1810s conceived of sense perception and access to external phenomena, and i used kant as a compare/contrast because he's an easy reference point on this topic/time period:

Idéologie itself was never a singular scientific method, but described a loose methodological family (often referred to by ‘Idéologues,’ such as Cabanis, as analysis) that aimed to uncover the deeper truths and universal laws that structured phenomenal observations. It was this quality that led the historian of medicine George Rosen to describe idéologie as a meeting point of empiricism and the “passive psychology” of Étienne Bonnot de Condillac (1714–1780). For Condillac and his followers, including Cabanis, all ideas of the human mind had their origin in sensations—that is, in the impressions made by external objects upon the sensory organs. Thus, an idea could always be broken down to its component sensations, which could be traced back to their external sources. There were no human ideas or mental faculties that did not ultimately take their source from sensory impressions; human understanding could be studied, corrected, and eventually refashioned by careful application of the ‘analytical’ method. Whereas Kant, whose first Critique was published in 1781, defended a distinction between a priori and a posteriori judgments, the Idéologues considered even an inherited tendency or instinct to be ultimately and strictly a product of sensation. If Kantian transcendental idealism dictated that human observation could never directly access the external phenomena in-themselves, idéologie instead embraced the naïve realist position that the external objects could truly be known and described—but only by precise analysis of their noumenal representations.

and then i was like well condillac died in 1780 and cabanis's most famous treatise was published in 1802 so basically the timing lines up really well for this comparison to kant, and what you would need to do is derive these different attitudes toward things-in-themselves from the political-economic contexts that they're embedded in & patterned on. which would be extremely easy to do on the french side because cabanis was 1) a politician and 2) explicitly openly concerned about the health of the workforce as a means of ensuring the continued production of french national wealth, such that my argument about him is essentially that we should be reading him as espousing proto eugenic positions and as verbalising much of the biopolitical remit of the revolutionary and postrevolutionary french state. like essentially, analogous to the way that c. darwin 'found' capitalist competition in nature, you would say something like, cabanis 'found' (naturalised) the need for management and alteration of the labourer's body & physiology in his medico-philosophical treatises.

anyway i would need to brush up on kant biography stuff but given his interest in physical anthropology and specifically his racial essentialism, it would be easy also to argue that his 'correlationist' thinking derived from how he patterned psychology on a teleological racial-hierarchical view of human biology. which is in turn ofc an economic and political argument. so what i would want to prove here is that both these positions, while seemingly disparate, are ultimately just different bourgeois ideologies & follow superstructurally from the material alienation of capitalist labour relations etc etc. i would do this more elegantly and thoroughly in an actual article but this is tumblr.dashboard :-)

[imaginatorcreates]

All Aboard The Stagways, Little Ghost!

21 July 2024 — 21 July 2024

Summary: Ghost meets some new faces in the stagways, then proceeds to fight them. In the name of excitement.

Word Count: ~2.5k words

Author’s Note: Inspired by The Stagways Masters by @chipper-smol Important!: Please keep in mind that my knowledge on Pokemon is close to zero. I'm mostly here because of the Submas Twins. Most knowledge comes from Detective Pikachu (which I should rewatch), absorption of basic terms via mild osmosis (TY to my close friend of over a decade), Discord friends, and infodumps to my Tumblr inbox. Feel free to expand my knowledge though!

Also on AO3

If there was something that was true in the kingdom of Hallownest, it was that there were bugs who loved to fight. Sometimes they lived to fight and died carrying that purpose until something decided to finally dismantle them forever. Sometimes the bugs themselves didn’t wish to fight, but instead are influenced towards physical force through the infection within their minds. Their flimsy limbs reached out towards any and all moving things with wild, swinging motions, trying to protect themselves while a dream-like nightmare soothingly whispered in their mind. Sometimes, such bugs don’t so much enjoy fighting, but were born and raised to fight, so their dismissal quickly turns into joy when fast-paced nails are thrust.

Then there are others who are clearly still alive, in whatever sense that means, and who lived for the thrill of the battle. Those who lived to hear the crunch of exoskeleton and the metallic clash of nails against each other. Who let out glorious cries when a parry successfully saved them from injury. The examples that came to mind first for the Knight, the little Ghost of Hallownest, were the Mantis Tribes and the bugs in the Colosseum of Fools. It knew all too well how much those bugs valued physical prowess over one’s nail and body, may that be out of respect and protection or for geo. It had lost a good amount of geo, time, and sanity trying to battle the bugs. Its voidlike body was littered with small scars from nails puncturing its softer exoskeleton, alongside burns from acid and the bright orange infection.

It didn’t mind those scars too much though. It was proof that it was still out here, kicking and fighting. Ghost found these scars to not be a point of pride nor shame, but instead as something that just happened. It traced a faint, almost indiscernible crack down the middle of its skull-like head. That too, was a reminder that it was still fighting. How many times has it died? It didn’t know; all it knew is that it’s been enough times that the crack was certainly there under close inspection.

Ghost was a strong fighter, it knew that. It was also a very small bug in Hallownest, so one can imagine how long it took for it to fully traverse the fallen kingdom. As a result, it also valued the transportation system in Hallownest, despite the time and geo it took for them to fully restore it. There was nothing more relieving than finding a safe bench near a tram or stagway station and sitting on it. It was only there that Ghost could let itself fully relax, adjusting charms that they have equipped and moving its void around itself to heal up. Occasionally, there would be another bug sitting with it. Quirrel was one of them, and his quiet knowledge and wisdom soothed Ghost like no other. Quirrel wasn’t at this stagway station bench, so Ghost could only guess that he was out observing the ruins of the Hallownest. 

Ghost hopped off the bench and was about to raise its nail to ring the bell to call the Old Stag to the station when it spotted something else. Attached to the metal pole where the golden bell hung was a pair of smaller silver bells. They looked newer than the older, sturdier bell that Ghost had always rung. More fragile too, its luster similar to a particular flower that gave the Knight more trouble than it was even worth. Ghost, being itself, decided to try and ring them to see what these bells might bring about.

Ghost unsheathed its nail, a strong weapon reforged multiple times by the Nailsmith, and lightly agitated the bells. The pair of silver bells rang at a higher pitch than the golden bell, but they rang for twice as long. Soon, from deep within the stagways, a rumbling sound started to echo. Ghost turned towards the opening, nail at the ready as the familiar rumbling of one stag multiplied into the rumbling of two stags.

From the dark tunnel, two stags burst forth and rumbled to a stop in front of the elevated station. They were distinctly stag-shaped, though one stag carried purple-blue flames atop holders on its body while the other had bits of yellow on its body that seemed to crackle in the air. They snorted and shook their heads out as two bugs gracefully hopped down from their back onto the platform in front of Ghost.

The bugs looked nearly identical in shape: four spindly limbs with defined digits and joints, a fluffy collar around each bug’s neck with a diamond-shaped broach nestled safely within, a hat atop each of the bugs’ head, and a long coat-like set of wings (at least, that was what what Ghost assumed). Where the bugs differed was in their coloration and small details. One bug was mostly white while the other mostly black. The white bug’s mask had its eyes carved up upwards to make it seem like it was perpetually smiling, while the black bug’s mask had its eyes carved downwards, giving it a frowny appearance. The two simultaneously leaned over Ghost, their light eyes glancing between the small vessel and each other.

“Greetings, little one!” the one in black said. His voice echoed through the station and caused a few smaller bugs to disperse from their hiding place. If Ghost could flinch from surprise, it would. “You’ve summoned us by ringing the silver bells. I am stagway master Ingo.”

“I am Emmet!” the one in white jumped in. His voice was a lot more static than Ingo’s, but what he lacked in intonation he made up for in circling around Ghost, his upper limbs moving about to accentuate his stiff words. “I’m also a stagway master. I’m with my older brother.” He swiftly crouched down into a squat and peered closely at Ghost. “You seem verrry strong! Like a good fighter!”

Ghost brandished its nail, holding a similar pose to when it challenged the Mantis Lords. Yes, it was very strong. Nothing that skill, learning, some SOUL, and some charms couldn’t help it with. What about it?

Emmet looked towards his brother, bouncing around in place as his eyes narrowed behind his mask. “You’re challenging us! Verrry gusty!”

“That is admirable of you, little Ghost,” Ingo said as Emmet started muttering something that sounded like, “Battle battle battle!”

Ghost shrugged. Its name got around quicker now that it had gotten around to earning the respect of the Mantis Lords, fighting in the Colosseum of Fools, fighting its half-sister Hornet…the list went on. The long story short was that it’s a bit well known among those who weren’t infected yet. It was given quite a few names, but its favorites were ‘Ghost’ and ‘Knight’. Therefore, it wasn’t surprising when Ingo and Emmet knew of its name and reputation.

The vessel brandished its nail once more.

“I am Emmet! Prepare for battle, little Ghost!” Emmet flourished his white and brown striped wings as he pointed to himself.

Ingo’s black and brown striped wings fluttered as he pointed outwards with one limb and downwards with the other, Emmet joining along with perfect symmetry. Ingo’s voice boomed, echoing through the entrance of the underground tunnels. “Please keep all weapons and limbs inside the moving stag at all times!”

“Filling out paperwork for that will be verrry tedious!”

“Battle will not proceed until the stags have reached a minimum cruising speed. After such, we only ask that you give it your all!”

“You’re not going to fall off. We’ll save you!”

The pair of identical bugs, one white and one black, simultaneously leapt onto their stags with a flap of their wings. They pointed towards the entrance to the stagways as their stags let out a deep grunt of preparation. “ALL ABOARD!”

Ghost leapt onto the closest stag and situated itself before the stags started to race down the dark tunnels. The purple-blue flames on Ingo’s stag held steady as the stags built up speed, while lighting crackled across Emmet’s stag.

“We have reached cruising speed!” Ingo announced. He unsheathed a large nail from a pouch on his stag. It was solid in shape with two small prongs on the end that quickly became engulfed in the same purple-blue flame emitted from his stag.

“Let’s battle, little Ghost!” Emmet exclaimed as he brought out two nails. They were identical, shaped more like large prongs (or Hornet’s head, if Ghost squinted). Yellow electricity sparked up and down the twin nails, causing Ghost to already feel like it was in over its head. What was that, three nails it had to defend itself from? And let it not mention that it was fighting two possibly very skilled masters of the nail on top of a moving stag.

Ghost, however, didn’t give up easily. It only prepared itself before rushing towards Ingo. It channeled its knowledge of the Nail Arts and performed a great slash towards the flaming darker bug.

Ingo fluttered away from the vessel and blocked the attack with his nail. “Bravo, little Ghost!” he exclaimed. Despite his mask making him look displeased with everything, his voice betrayed how excited he was with this. “But remember — !”

“I am Emmet! There are two of us!”

Ghost barely registered the movement of the other stagway master before it felt two nails pierce through its exoskeleton. Then, sharp shocks ran through its body before the nails were removed, damaging its body even more.

Ghost quickly charged up a cyclone slash and used its luminescent monarch wings to travel to the other stag. It had no time to heal as the two bugs were already hot on its trail. This time, it prepared a dash slash to Emmet before using some stored SOUL from its previous battles to send a shade soul towards Ingo.

Clearly, at least one of its attempts to damage the twins was successful as it heard a cry of pain. It felt itself gathering more SOUL and concluded that it hit Emmet. However, in retaliation for that, it felt fire pierce through its exoskeleton and burn away at some of its void.

Not good. What was that, at least four hits? It could only take around nine total before its exoskeleton broke and freed its shade. It was already a hassle to have to find its shade again, but in the depths of the stagways too? Ghost would consider that shade lost by then, along with the geo it collected.

It leapt and gained enough altitude before using its nail to bounce on the heads of the stagway masters, gaining more SOUL in the process and risking a few precious seconds to focus and heal some damage away. It barely managed to heal one stab that Emmet gave it before said bug rushed towards it with his nails brandished.

The two performed a series of hits and parries, the sound of metal ringing through the stagway tunnels enunciated by the crackle of lightning dancing on Emmet’s weapons. Emmet laughed and started to pressure Ghost to the ground, the combination of strength and weaponry starting to win over. “I am Emmet, and you look like you’re struggling!”

Ghost powered up another spell before letting out an abyss shriek.

The lights in the tunnels flickered as the dark spell wracked the younger stagway master. The electricity on his nails disappeared for a moment as he knelt there, stunned.

Ghost managed to get one hit in before a fiery nail plunged itself into its exoskeleton and started to burn away at its insides. “Rules of the stagway battles,” Ingo exclaimed, “mention that we don’t fight to the death.” His voice was tinged with anger at the vessel, but also slightly with breathlessness, as if he was curious as to where this might lead. He removed his nail as he added, “Hold your ideals steady, little Ghost! Would you kill or provide mercy?”

“That’s a killing machine, big brother,” Emmet said as he regained his senses. He laughed and stumbled up, hitting his nails against each other to reignite the lightning. “It’s verrry good at killing other bugs. That’s the truth.”

Ghost didn’t deny either brother. Fighting to the death was usually how it fought if nothing else was clear. Fighting to the death meant freedom from the infection. However, it knew when to stop. This would be like fighting the Mantis Lords or Hornet. Fighting for honor.

Ghost brandished its nail once again.

The fight from then on became less of frantic clashing of the nails and more of a very intense spar. It reminded Ghost of a mixture between the Nailmasters and Grimm. The stagway masters were treating this fight like a spar, encouraging towards not killing or dangerously harming Ghost (as demonstrated when they both knocked the vessel back towards the stags when it leapt a bit too close to the edge of the larger moving insects). But they still loved to show off akin to Troupe Master Grimm. Both demonstrated years of battle prowess both as separate units and as a pair. Both were skilled with a nail (or two), with or without the extra flourishes of fire and electricity. Still, there were a few surprises, such as when Ghost dodged Ingo’s fiery nail only to get hit with fire from behind.

“Oops!” Emmet laughed. “Not sorry, little Ghost!”

So, the brothers were well-versed in each other’s form of spells too. Good to know.

Eventually, the lights of the stagway tunnels cleared to the lights of the station up ahead. Ghost was battered and a bit tired, and the twin brothers appeared the same, though they both tried to hide it. Emmet’s fluffy collar was made extra fluffy with all the lighting he had surrounded himself with, while Ingo’s hat was slightly singed at the edges. There were also hints of lightning and fire burns on the twin’s upper limbs from casting the other’s spells.

The moment the stags came to a stop next to the elevated platform, Ghost hopped off and rested on a bench. It started the slow process of healing its numerous injuries when it felt itself being sandwiched between two bugs.

“Super bravo, little Ghost!” Ingo congratulated the vessel. His voice was still as loud as ever despite carrying a tired tone to it. “You were a formidable opponent, and I wouldn’t object to battling against you again.”

“Good job!” Emmet added. “I am Emmet, and I am very tired and sore. But I will soon battle you again!” He poked at Ghost’s skull-like head before he let himself relax into the bench.

Ghost was sure that it would find the two stagway masters again. After all, it was very small and Hallownest was very big. It needed public transportation, so finding the twin bugs wasn’t a matter of ‘if’.

It was a matter of ‘when’.

[yougetsu]

The Fool Card

I wanted to write about this a few days ago but just had free time recently and as Hisashi confirmed it, it's better to do it now.

We already know that The Fool represents new beginning, infinite possibilities, and freedom from being bound by any boundaries. But I'd like to delve deeper into the meaning.

I'd like to clarify, I'm not an expert... I just enjoy reading about the Fool's journey from a psychological perspective and how useful tarot could be as a tool for personal growth.

Number 0 represents infinite potentiality, from which realities, life, actions, ideas emerge. This means that all things are possible because no defined form has been assumed yet. Zero also means emptiness of fears and hopes, The Fool does not wait or plan anything because he reacts instantly according to the situation he faces. This card is also connected to cards of difficult passage, like the Moon and Death, which in tough paths urges The Fool on despite his fears.

The Fool is linked to true innocence (openness to life) by trying to remain in a state of freedom and joy, which also involves being spontaneous, honest and loving naturally without judgment. This card tries to remind us that life is an uncontrollable force, a constant dance of experiences, nothing can be calculated.

We don't know further details about Imai's perspective in this area, but I do see that he embodies some characteristics of The Fool in his artistry and in his words when it comes to facing challenges.

You can read more about it in the book Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom by Rachel Pollack.

...

I'd like to talk about The Fool (愚者/gusha) in "Mudai". Again, we'll never know what the lyrics are about with certainty. However, the surrealism and metaphors in the song catch my attention and I like to look at it from a somewhat metaphysical perspective, specially in the last lines where "gusha" is mentioned.

The Fool represents someone who is about to start a journey, visually we can see that he's looking into the abyss below and is moving towards it. So, The Fool is also perceived as the seed of life, the creature that is about to take a physical form to come to the world. The figure of this card is also read as a being that it's not in the physical realms yet, that might be suspended in the universe (nothingness). Basically, something invisible is happening, before having a body and before birth, which I connect with the lyrics:

"I'm a fool

In the depths of darkness, the fool goes

I'm a fool

Touched in the head, the fool goes

I'm a fool

Covered in blood, the fool goes

I'm a fool

To the end of darkness, the fool goes"

Additionally, The Fool relates to the 'immortal' self that later becomes trapped in the confusions and struggles of the ordinary world. The self in this card has no gender defined since it is expressing their complete humanity at all time naturally. The Fool dialogues with The World card in that sense, since both complement each other to reach unity through growth and to complete the journey.

It's very interesting to see how much Atsushi's word selection can convey because most of the time he left the lyrics open to personal interpretation and at the same time, those lyrics are full of visuals and symbolism (sometimes untranslatable), which gives much more weight and depth to his work. Love his writing so much.

More info:

Tarot Tracings: Essays on Literature and Divination by Camelia Elias

[mvmnbnv]

Vi x Reader fluffy hcs

Because fuck it vi deserves to be cared for. Who will take care of my babydoll

____________________________________________

Summary: Vi is ur gf and you love her a lot basically

-Everytime you step out to eat you ask her if she wants something too or if she wants the rest of your food

-Being neglected for years and hardly experiencing physical affection calls for a bunch of cuddles and kisses ofc. You let her lay in your lap, on your shoulder, give her blankets, stroke her hair, massage the shaved side of her head, etc

-you're obsessed with her beauty, like madly obsessed. You're always gushing over her big eyes, pretty lashes, plump lips, pretty voice, gorgeous body, literally everything. You love to count her freckles and trace them, trying to make them connect with the invisible line you make with your finger. You're constantly telling her how beautiful she is

- she's a girl with a lot of baggage and that can come with some mental struggles. You hold her through her nightmares and let her know you'll always be there, praise her when she's made an effort to care for herself after falling into depressive episodes, and encourage her on days she can't. Sometimes you'll do it for her, running her a bath and letting her sit there while you rake your hands and the water through her hair and clean her up brushing it out and making sure it doesn't get matted, gettubg her started on brushing her teeth, letting her know you love her the whole time, and thanking her for letting you help her .

- ofc she gets into a lot of stuff so you have to patch her up. She hates the sting of alcohol but you keep her still, probably with zero energy to scold her at this point

- you insist on her getting therapy fr. While you want to unpack all of her trauma and help her sort through it all, you're not a professional. She needs one

- you let her know you'll always be there to validate her feelings

[goodfully]

oh god i cant believe ive finished reading the neapolitan novels already, its over??? ahh okay thoughts on the last book "the story of the lost child"..

honestly i was dreading the last maybe twenty pages bc i didnt want it to end hahaha. its crazy that everything we've read is essentially all for lila. "i who have written for months and months and months to give her a form whose boundaries wont dissolve." ahh!!!!! what!!!!!! to spend so much of the book saying how much lila suffered and feared from dissolving boundaries, how she had been so overwhelmed during the earthquake when the entire world felt like its boundaries were dissolving, and then say that everything shes written is to keep her from dissolving herself... my goodness. "i loved lila. i wanted her to last. but i wanted it to be i who made her last. i thought it was my task. i was convinced that she herself, as a girl, had assigned it to me." wow... you ever loved someone so much... also.. the way lenu was saying how connected they are, that even tho she has written a lot about her own life in these pages, "the very nature of our relationship dictates that i can reach her only by passing through myself"??? god.

i think my favorite parts of the book were all when lenu and lila were so close to each other during and after their pregnancies. i just thought it was so sweet, the way they were basically a family together, two mothers and their children. going to their doctors appointment tmr, taking walks together, taking care of each others daughters like their own.

i have to admit that i was confused by the meaning of the dolls at the very end, but i love that the openendness of the ending was referring back to something unanswered (where were the dolls) from one of the very first scenes from the first book (altho very interesting!, considering how not too long before the end of the book, lenu was telling imma not to believe in the cyclical nature of society). to me i thought, perhaps also it could mean that (assuming its lila) lila chooses existing (with lenu) over disappearing? actually, when tina disappeared and dede had accused lila of losing tina on purpose, i immediately thought it made sense. the first thing we literally know about lila is how she has felt the need to erase herself completely, and tina parallels/is an extension of lila the way imma parallels/is an extension of lenu. lila wanted to erase herself without a trace, and there was literally zero proof of tinas death/kidnapping/existence.

in the same way lila wouldnt be able to erase herself completely without also erasing tina, i think about the idea of how the ppl we love will never truly be erased if we love them? thats why even if tina disappeared, lila cant be erased bc lenu loves her. like how, whether its on purpose or not to keep her mother alive, lenu finds her mothers existence with her in her limp. i think the same could be said about the solaras, who altho arent exactly loved by the neighborhood, are important enough to most ppl in the neighborhood and their power is still felt in the neighborhood after their death. also, i think its a little different, but im reminded of when lenu said something like the many fragments of ourselves are scattered like splinters or something (altho i think the context here was about their children). but no one is ever never really gone, i think.. oh.. i go crazy every time she talks about her relationship/similarities with her mother (the ancestors in her body when she was physically violent back against her mother, and the.. "must i watch you become worse than me?"), and her relationship/similarities with her daughters (her daughters reaching the same age as the ghosts of her girlhood), and every time the imma/tina relationship parallels the lenu/lila relationship.

i was thinking that this book was more of accepting yourself and your origins, whereas the other books showed lenu and lila trying to escape them? perhaps acceptance of the past and the agency you have despite the past that defined you? like when lenu realizes that ninos actions are not attributed to his father, nino is his own person and he himself is the reason he is a piece of shit man, not just bc of the man who raised him. and that part when lenu said that antonios tone resembles the neighborhood, but it is entirely his own. more so when lenu had published her third book and said that only words and stories from the neighborhood were the only ones with meaning, and that she no longer felt she was a victim of her origins but was capable of dominating them and using them to climb higher. stuff about the past and present colliding. it reminds me of when mariarosa said something like, a woman without love for her origins is lost, or something.. i kinda forgot what the context was tho.

oh another thing, the closeness between the childhood neighborhood friends meant so much to me.. like there was a moment when carmen said that lenu and lila are her sisters during that little gathering with the neighborhood group of kids now all grown up just talking to each other... i think theyre like family, they grew up together. when lenu goes in the neighborhood after moving back to naples and is talking to carmen, lila, and enzo again... they care so much about each other. and talking about how much they love pasquale too no matter what hes doing. sobs.

this just reminded me of nino.. (he was there the first time, but whatever! he kinda wasnt.) when lenu makes nino come over, i was so pissed... and i had a feeling something bad would happen while he was there, but tinas disappearance was not what i was expecting.. oh but enzo.. my beloved, he was so caring and attentive, not only to tina but also imma. ahh.. while im on the topic of men, the part when gennaro and stefano find rino, and gennaro had to listen to stefano yell insults at rinos dead body and then beats up stefano while crying that he is disgusted with himself for being his son. it just made me really sad.. these are the two adult men he has and is related to..

tbh francos death sticks out to me mainly bc he said something that i honestly believe and live by, i repeat it to myself to not relapse into whatever mental illness, "it [is] a good rule not to expect the ideal but to enjoy what is possible", but then he kills himself immediately after and it... makes me so fucking sad.

lenu said this only in the beginning about feeling the hostility from her mother/lila and felt estranged from them, but i often think about freedom vs loneliness. i suppose its also something throughout the whole series, with how much she wanted freedom and to escape from her origins, she /was/ lonely. and the time spent trying to be on her own without lila was also lonely. the end of the entire series when she felt her friendship with lila must have ended... that was lonely. i think in this fourth book, lenu expressed a lot more of her love for lila.

anyway... overall i loved the entire series so much... i am so glad i read it finally, its some of the best books ive ever read. im on a trip with family rn and every time someone asks me what im reading, i really dont know how to summarize all four novels all together in a way that explains how good and thoughtful it all is. also i know its adapted into a show, which i really want to watch eventually! i still cant believe im done reading tho.. like what do i do now! ahhhhhh

[gumnut-logic]

The sun touched the horizon and lit up everything in gold.

Virgil closed his eyes and let its waning warmth soak into his skin.

The breeze was gentle, little more than a tease. It caressed his cheeks, lingered in his hair and tantalised the tracings of his mark across his bare back.

He shivered.

He was wearing only an old pair of cut-off jeans between himself and the warm rock. His feet were bare and dangling in the cool water, his toes teased by the ebb and flow.

His soundscape was filled with that water. The ripples of the lagoon splashing against the rock he was sitting on, the distant surf outside the safety of the caldera.

The squabbles of the petrels on Mateo as they argued about roosts for the night.

It was home.

The day had been a good one. No rescues. A moment to relax and sit back. Each of them had disappeared to their own corners, dabbling in their own pastimes in order to wind down.

Alan had taken to the air in the morning. He hadn’t managed to escape a cautionary word from Scott about staying close to the Island, but that was nothing unusual.

Scott said that to all of them.

Their youngest hadn’t been gone long, choosing only to stretch his golden wings with a few loops of their tiny volcanic rock in the middle of nowhere. Virgil had taken the moment to look up and watch his little brother swoop and dive, golden wings quite a sight in the early morning sun.

Scott and John, of course, were all about catching up on work. Virgil had to intervene at about midday and demand they eat. John was yanked down from orbit with a little extra threat from Grandma.

Virgil had been so happy to see his space brother. A little math and he realised he hadn’t seen him in the flesh for over two weeks.

John indulged him a hug as he knew Virgil craved a physical connection to ground him. Virgil was gentle, knowing that those two weeks in zero gravity would make his brother sensitive to touch.

But he had to.

The spark of connection as their minds reacted was like a tension release. Virgil sighed into his shoulder with relief.

John held him.

But after that, it was all Grandma and eat something, kid. Fortunately, lunch hadn’t relied on her cooking. Virgil had done a supply run on the way back from a minor situation just the day before and the larder was stacked with lazy day goodies.

It was a good meal. For once, everyone was there.

They had spent a good part of the afternoon just lazing about the comms room talking. While they lived most of their lives together, it had become rare being together all at once with no dire emergency needing attention.

There had been sun, conversation and rest.

John. John, of all people, had fallen asleep on the couch.

That had prompted a number of things. Lots of quiet. An interrogation of Eos from the kitchen regarding their brother’s sleep schedule.

This was promptly followed by grounding him for a week to play catch up.

Grandma was not happy.

And no doubt, John would be even less when he woke up.

But hey, the man needed to take better care of himself.

A blanket had appeared.

Virgil may have snuck in a medical monitor and gently clipped it to his shirt to boost the basic vitals his gravity wear provided.

John slept on.

So, they left him there and returned to doing their own things in other parts of the house.

As always, Gordon gravitated towards the sea as late afternoon rolled in. This time Virgil followed him to the water’s edge.

His fish brother’s forays out into the ocean always made Virgil just that touch nervous. There had been times where the aquanaut had gotten himself into trouble…alone, out in that vast wilderness under the surface.

It wasn’t that Gordon didn’t know what he was doing. It was just…Virgil couldn’t reach him.

And he worried.

But Gordy was as much a part of the sea as it was part of him and while the brat respected his concerns, he was still a brat. When he leapt up, morphed into his favourite eagle ray form, and made a splash large enough to soak his engineer brother, it was not unexpected.

There was a reason why sting rays always looked like they were smiling. At least this one thought he was funny.

The smart ass.

A flicker of shadow beneath the surface and Gordon was gone.

Virgil felt him grow distant, only to have a sun shower of mental energy thrown in his direction.

Clearly a ‘cheer up, Virg, I’ll be fine’.

Virgil grunted as he stared out at the water that had swallowed his brother. Gordon would be gone a couple of hours at least. Virgil would occupy himself for the rest of the afternoon, but he knew that come sunset, he would be down by the shore, waiting for him.

And here he was.

Staring out at the sea and the sunset, waiting for that little spark to return.

It wasn’t a chore. It was just something he felt he had to do.

Part of him wished he had brought his sketchbook or his tablet, but the risk was too high. Gordon wouldn’t intentionally soak his stuff, but accidents did happen.

And besides, he didn’t mind taking a moment to just...be.

The sun’s warmth was a caress on his skin and he revelled in it. He let his eyes close and just felt and listened.

Sun.

Water.

Wind.

Birds.

A wet touch on his shoulder.

He couldn’t help it, he flinched. Instinctively he knew what was happening, he knew his brother was being a little shit, but evolution tagged human receptors with flight response for a reason.

Suckers grabbed at his skin.

He stumbled on the rocks as he flung himself to his feet.

The tentacle did not go away.

It had friends.

Virgil suddenly found himself wrapped in several long, wet, suckered appendages.

“Gordon, what the hell are you doing?”

But then cephalopods weren’t the greatest of listeners since they didn’t really have ears.

Gordon, fortunately or unfortunately, did have the ability to transmit emotion to his brother, despite the muffle of transmutation, and the laughter sparkled across Virgil’s mindscape like a rain of sunny stars.

The evening was still golden and warm, but just a touch less relaxing. Virgil stood amongst the rocks with a giant Pacific octopus wrapped around his torso.

He idly stared at the flickering colours of laughter strobing across the chromatophores he could see.

“Gordon, you’re a shit.”

That, of course, only increased the mirth.

Virgil settled his mind and came to terms with the fact he was currently wearing a cephalopod and instead turned to problem solving.

The giant molluscs were quite fascinating. If there was one thing Virgil shared with his fish brother, it was a fascination with life in general, and because his brother spent so much time underwater, Virgil had done his fair share of reading on the topic. Unbeknownst to Gordon, Virgil found cephalopods quite fascinating, both in their communication methods and for painting subjects.

But then, this kraken was a whole different kettle of shellfish.

Virgil stood still for a few moments, waiting to see what his brother would do and, if he was honest, see if his brother would simply let him go.

The mental snickering pretty soon negated that response, so Virgil had to look for a more proactive retaliation.

He prodded a tentacle wrapped around his belly. It wriggled back at him.

Virgil was ticklish. He stifled the thought that his brother might take advantage of that while possessing eight arms.

He could lift. That would bring eight metres of black feathers into the equation, but Gordon was physically in contact with his mark, the feathers would likely phase through him like a piece of clothing.

A tentacle caressed his ribcage and he shivered.

He felt Gordon’s outburst of glee and before he knew it, all of those tentacles were moving, suckers puckering along his ribs and belly, a riot of tickle and tease. There was even one in his hair, its tip dangling in front of his eyes.

His brother’s maniacal mental laughter was all consuming.

Swearing, Virgil spun and leapt into the lagoon, the drop-off immediate enough to take the dive.

His world became a rush of bubbles.

Several tentacles came loose in the chaos and Virgil twisted in the water, hoping to dislodge the rest.

But the water was Gordon’s native environment, and the engineer didn’t have a hope.

The mental giggling was obnoxious.

Breath soon became an urgency and Virgil pushed towards the flickering light above. He surfaced with an octopus head bopping his nose. Somehow Gordon had slithered around to hang off his front instead of his back.

Virgil glared at his brother through the hair dripping in his eyes.

The head tilted and squirted water into his face.

“Gordon!”

Damnit, Kayo needed to show him some self-defence skills against cephalopods.

The thing was octopuses were strong, but their bodies were somewhat fragile and part of Virgil was worried he might hurt his brother.

Knowing Gordon, he knew that and was playing it to his advantage.

“Why are you doing this?”

Because I can.

Virgil didn’t need telepathy to answer that.

But there was a spark of something beyond the humour. Beyond the rain of sunshine sparkles there was a deep red, a welling of emotion his brother was reluctant to share.

A frown and Virgil reached out mentally to his little brother just that little bit more.

The octopus scrambled up his torso, over his face – to Virgil’s muffled protest – and perched on his head like a turban.

Virgil spat into the water and rubbed his face with both hands. “God, Gordon! Why?!”

But the answer wasn’t built with words, it was built with emotion and it suddenly washed over him.

An overwhelming need to touch, to hug and to feel.

But…?

Virgil reached for his cephalopod hat, but Gordon slipped off into the water with a splash and darted away.

Virgil dove to follow.

He didn’t have a hope in catching up, no matter his brother’s form, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

But Gordon had disappeared.

Damnit!

Oxygen became a necessity far too quickly and, yet again, Virgil cursed his inability to follow his fish brother.

Surfacing dragged his hair into his eyes.

How had he missed it? Gordon could be as in need of touch as Virgil was at times. How had Virgil not seen that his brother just needed a hug?

He mentally kicked himself.

“Virg, it’s not a thing. Don’t tie yourself in knots.”

He spun to find his little brother in human form treading water quietly behind him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a hug? Hell, why didn’t you just give me one?”

Gordon snorted. “Is that a prescription, bro? You dispensing brotherly hugs?”

“I’m dispensing whatever works, Gords.” His head tilted just a little as he stared at his brother. “C’mere?” He held out his arms, his legs doing the best to keep him stable in the water.

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Don’t drown yourself.”

“Gordon…”

When his brother didn’t respond, Virgil took matters into his own hands and dove at him. The fact he was successful in grabbing a flailing leg proved that Gordon didn’t really want to escape.

A little manhandling and Virgil had his brother in the biggest hug he could manage. It was complicated by the fact that hugging was not conducive to swimming and if Virgil didn’t surface soon, he was going to start losing brain cells, but it was the best he could do with a wriggling fish brother.

Ultimately, it was Gordon who threw them to the surface with a spark of exasperation.

“Virg, I’m fine! What the hell?”

But the emotion bouncing across their connection told the truth. There was little but fondness and love for his silly brother.

“I’m not silly.” Virgil wrinkled his nose.

“Never said you were. However, you did nearly drown yourself trying to give me a hug.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Not.”

“Too.”

“Gordon!”

“What?”

Virgil glared at him.

Predictably, Gordon just smirked at him.

It was Virgil’s turn to be overwhelmed with fondness and love.

Gordon groaned. “Oh god, you are so soppy.”

“What? You’re my brother. I’m allowed to care.”

Gordon fell silent, and for a moment, those brown eyes just stared at Virgil.

Then he found his arms full of brother again. “Love you, bro.”

Surprised, but touched, Virgil’s arms tightened around Gordon and again they dipped below the surface.

Hugs were really conducive to drowning.

And disturbing to sleeping brothers as John startled awake with a rain of confused midnight stars.

Oops.

Virgil made to kick back up to the surface, but suddenly found his arms full of cephalopod again.

Damnit, Gordon.

The sparkling sunshine giggles were back and it was with resignation that Virgil made his way to the surface.

Perhaps Gordon had a reason for the change and for the cling because when Virgil walked back to the villa and into the comms room wearing his rather heavy cephalopod brother wrapped around him, it brought Scott’s tirade of lecturing John to a sudden halt.

Both brothers stopped and just stared.

Virgil stared back. “What?”

“Is that Gordon?” Scott pointed with both hope and a little fear at the octopus back-pack headwear combination.

A tentacle poked at Virgil’s nose from his forehead. He ignored it and shrugged. “Gords wanted a hug.” He turned away. “I’m going to go have a shower.” An absent wave of a hand.

If his brothers stared as he walked out, he could only smile to himself.

The rain of sunshine laughter from his hat just turned his smile into a grin.

-o-o-o-

[mostspecialgirl]

terrible little first ashenworks doodle

rambling no one will read below

thought id nail down the first run designs of the ashenworks staff since they’re only five characters and i needed to scratch the itch of having them formed. i tried to make a little chart explaining their place in the relicverse for twitter but it ended up like this

so like yeah no thats not helpful at all really

so instead im just gonna talk about them here on tumblr where i can write infinitely.

across the sea of stars, almost every weapon you can find, regardless of if you’re in association or hundred nights space, is branded somewhere with the label of “ASHENWORKS”. regardless of any perceived cultural design, make and model, style of weapon, level of wear, perceived level of technology available to make it, somehow, almost as if it has transcended time, the weapons used by most all in sea of stars is branded with their name. storefronts, ruins, pawn shops, high end stores, black markets, stripped from the cold hands of an enemy or inherited tearfully from those of a fallen ally, they all seem to mysteriously trace back to this “ASHENWORKS”.

the origin traces back to one of the earliest planeswalker myths. from back before the prevalence of the association had its powerhouses, and not long before the creation of the hundred nights guild, the death of Yima Thekhrós Berezaiti at the hands of Enstorm Savant, the King Of Rifts, which resulted in the scattering of his million ashen remains across the sea of stars.

privy to none but his own minds, a single ash caught fire within the scattering. an insignificant piece of his being, one who by all accounts was at fault for his death, the failure of his ashen pieces. the materia of his “Cunning”. the shard gaining life not through borrowed power, but through the will of Natura itself, Shen Diao Berezaiti was born as Straychild, upon what is now OBSCURANT EARTH. bearing with him not only the ability to planeswalk as the other shards, but with a mind that sought to truly capture the places his past self had only looked to travel. and he would be willing to play any role necessary to once again stoke the fires of his renewed youth.

but who cares about that???? basically, ashenworks is the sea of stars’s most prevalent weapons manufacturer, with their true identity buried under puppet companies, complicated trade routes, local merchants signed to benefactors of benefactors, and all manner of unnecessary obfuscation. created by Shén Diāo Berezaiti for the simple purpose of making a fuck ton of money at almost zero cost.

how has the “King Of Grifts”, the “Cunning of Yima” managed to pull of such a feat?! By exploiting the working class, of course!!!!

now with names

Shén Diāo Berezaiti - little weasel of a man, incredibly immature and juvenile despite his wit and cunning. could easily become an active threat to both hundred nights and the association if he were born stupid enough to want to be involved.

Rosewater Costeau - second son of the Costeau Noble Family and Shén’s infinitely capable partner in crime. has a knack for psychology and managing people. head obscured by a Rift bound to him by his family due to his “unsightly appearance”. hit it off with shén during one of the annual Savant Ball’s.

Zhofskyv Fanyne - a relic automaton indifferent to his own existence, born from the relic “mattercurrent”, capable of replicating countless machine processes, formerly uncontrollably. serves as ashenwork’s one-man manufacturing plant through the use of several other relics. formerly employed as a butler for the costeau family’s winter manor, after being gifted to them by Enstorm Savant.

Miron - the lindwurm queen and straychild born of the relic “Golden River”, seemingly bottomless physical strength, she’s naturally attuned to relics, being able to “communicate” with them. absolute brainless meathead. has a good heart. she’s always making that face.

Cassius Oganglyph - dwarven artist and designer who helps bridge shén’s ideas into reality. a student of kailash discipline who hopes ashenworks is the vital stepping stone for his art to reach someone who understands it.

i’m tired and i’m going to nap now maybe i will finish writing this post with more info later. nobody reads these anyway

[relaxjaxart]

(WIP)

I have a lot of ocs I made and never get back to them and Yasuke is one of them. The first time I drew him was back in 2019 (right). Yasuke was a fan character I made for someone's comic series. Somewhere down the line I decided to use him for my own project, which I have now abandoned but I can still have fun with him haha. Yasuke's first redesign (left) is what he was going to look like in my little project. Hey I was ambitious at 18. I probably thought that this was the coolest shit ive made. I don't even think I finished it because there's still some parts not colored in and barely any shading???

Now we're at 2024 and I have FINALLY gotten to this boy. I won't lie, I almost never draw full body pieces. They always look weird once I get to the legs but with this piece, I ate~. It looks really good hahah! Granted I did use a reference and I may have copied the pose 1-1, but at least I didn't trace though. As you can see, it looks very different from the other Yasukes. The Gi and sweater have been changed to a long coat. The stupid head band is gone. The katana as been replaced with a dagger. I envision my Yasuke to be a very aggressive fighter so I figured a dagger was a good fit. He's a physical powerhouse but because of that he basically has zero magic capabilities.

FOLLOW ME: linktr.ee/relaxjax

[honestlyvan]

Hey, Van, could you explain permet to me because I don't think I ever fully understood how it works or what happened at the end and how was it different from quiter zero? Please?

Oh dear. Gundam technobabble. Keep in mind that I'm writing this without having read any of the official additional material, this is just what I can glean from the show itself.

Alright so Permet's whole thing is that it can form a networks with itself under specific conditions. Presumably it means that anything with a sufficient concentration of Permet in it -- including human beings -- can act as components of that network, kind of like a big integrated circuit. For Gundams specifically, this means that the pilot becomes a part of the operating system of the mobile suit -- it looks like other Permet technology includes an additional layer of interfacing, which means they don't offload any processing onto the Permet networks of the user, Gund technology makes the connection go both way.

The upside is that controlling technology the way you "control" your body has immense benefits for stuff like reaction time, situational awareness and fine motor control -- the downside is that insides of humans are not nice and ordered like an integrated circuit, and so Permet trying to force itself into a structure like that clearly has some deleterious health effects. If I had to guess, it fucks with the subtle electric signals inside the brainmeats somehow, but why it causes high fever, I don't know. It also looks like constant exposure to things that activate the Permet inside a body is cumulative, like radiation poisoning.

"Data storms" are just what the larger expressions of a Permet networks are called. If I had to guess, I think the name comes from how these large networks inherit noise resulting from Permet reactions in the absence of a control system, becoming more chaotic the further their influence extends. In limited amounts, like the small-scale storms inside Gundam systems, a human consciousness can still exert control over them, organise them, but as the scale goes up, the amount of agitation the Permet inside a person is under exceeds some physical limit. The influence goes both ways, though, human biometric activity can become imprinted into a Permet network, like how Eri did with Lfrith.

Quiet Zero is basically an amplifier capable of forcibly organising ambient Permet. This includes Permet that is bound in extant systems, which is why it gives remote control over Permet-powered technology that gets within the zone of influence the large antenna structure provides for them. But, critically, I think both Eri and Suletta are amplifiers on their own, also, as a result of their physiology containing far more Permet than the average person.

Like, all Permet is connected to itself, somehow -- but most of it is too chaotic, and the trace from one end of the network to another is too long for any particular piece of information retained in the network through imprinting is too difficult usually. What Suletta and Eri did to convince Elnora was basically to use their extended reach to pull on the imprints stored in the various Gundams, stored with Eri, and stored within Quiet Zero's systems while they still had access to the large data storm.

But why that overloaded the circuit, causing it to break down... I'm not really sure. I think they may have just hit the upper limit of what is possible within the confines of the laws of physics of this universe. They extended the theory of what Elnora was trying to accomplish to, for a moment, remanifest everyone's imprints, instead of just Eri's. I also don't know why the entire structure and all materials containing Permet also disintegrated, although that could just be some kind of a cascade effect from whatever molecular or quantum links keep Permet connected with itself dissolving from being overloaded.

[luvtonique]

Wait, I'm a little out of the loop, why are you losing followers?

The most likely reason is because I support generative AI and people just immediately decide based on that alone that I'm in support of art theft, despite the last 12 years of me very consistently saying I'm against art theft.

I don't mind if people steal my art personally, go for it, take it, trace over it, edit it, I don't care, have fun. Even remove my signature from it, it literally does zero damage to me, I don't even sign most of my art anyway.

The point I'm making though is that I do in fact utilize AI myself because I am disabled and unbelievably impoverished. I use it to help me make backgrounds because I have 25 years of experience drawing characters and maybe 15 hours of experience drawing backgrounds so it helps to just generate something.

I use AI to turn the lyrics I have 26 years of experience writing into music via Suno.com because I make music of hundreds of different genres and for hundreds of different reasons and I nor anyone on earth wants to spend my entire fucking life looking for 60 different bands and commissioning them to turn my lyrics I write into a song when I could instead just use AI and make fun catchy songs I can listen to during my streams, and I take commissions to write songs for people too because I believe Lyricists like myself should be able to get paid without having to rely on instrument talent (I have arthritis and can't keep a beat due to mental disabilities) or hiring other band members. Independent Lyricists are artists too and deserve to be paid for their work just like any other artist and I think "You used AI so you don't deserve to be paid" is far more harmful to artists trying to make a living than AI "taking away jobs" is.

And, I am strongly of the opinion that "If you use AI you're supporting art theft" is as retarded a statement as "If you own a gun you support school shootings."

I am in support of generative AI. It exists, there's nothing you can do about it, and you can either learn to adapt this new absolutely extraordinary tool that can help artists and their commission clients into your art routine, or you can continue bitching about it and boycotting the artists you claim you're trying to protect.

Because for all the times you say "AI is taking jobs away from artists," the only jobs I've seen taken away from artists is anti-AI activists getting artists fired or getting their PayPals frozen or making "Please unfollow this artist" callout posts to destroy that artist's career.

YOU are taking jobs away from artists, not AI. AI has opened the door for a MASSIVE amount of artists of lower skill levels to be able to make money off of their art much more easily and YOU are trying to get their careers destroyed by being anti-AI.

Not you specifically.

I mean "you" in a generalized manner.

Since adopting AI into my art to help with backgrounds, my art has improved dramatically and my workflow has improved in rapidity. I am making commissions much more frequently with much higher quality. I have been able to generate music, making an entire album for a singer character of mine (Yumi Pop) which will be a full physical album release that will make me, the lyricist and writer who wrote all the lyrics into a massive psychological horror story told between all the tracks, a fair bit of money when the album is released. I am living proof that AI can help artists improve and form their careers while everyone is just so fucking convinced AI is "harmful to artists."

Bitch it's literally pulled me out of debt already. I literally erased my PayPal debt by utilizing AI, how the fuck is it taking jobs from artists? It like basically gave me super powers you dumbshits.

AI is not harmful to artists, AI helps artists.

Y'all are so hung up on hating it that you don't realize how much of a golden ticket it is to creating a new era of art.

Of COURSE it's shitty if you just type in a prompt and generate a full picture and say you made it, same goes for literally fucking anything.

Photographers literally just go outside and take a picture of a goddamn tree in nature and they make $300,000 selling that picture to a magazine. Drake is the biggest singer in the world and he uses samples for his background music and Autotune for his voice.

MODERN ARTISTS TAPE A BANANA TO A WALL AND MAKE 100,000,000 DOLLARS OFF OF IT, AND ARREST THE GUY WHO EATS THE BANANA BECAUSE HE DEFACED THEIR ART.

AND Y'ALL STILL HUNG UP ON AI WHILE IGNORING ALL THAT.

[valletta-alleyways]

oh yeah i never explained the universe of the jjk warrior cats au........ ok so basically (oc ranting included!!)

starclan has abandoned the cats, leaving leaders and med cats with zero connection and breaking up the big clans into smaller colonies under same beliefs. dark forest cats started leaking back into the living world, the more forgotten the stupider and weaker the cursed one (curse). The only left trace of starclan, who doesnt give away 9 lives to its leaders anymore (with very little exceptions like silverstar(gojo) or slashstar(sukuna) or cats that are born with the technique of 9 lives (leopardstalk(makoto)), is the birth of clan cats with special abilities (cursed techniques) to fight off the cursed ones. there is still cursed energy, able to harm and heal - regular cursed energy being enegry of dark forest, tamed by the starwalkers (sorcerers) and reverse c.e being the energy of starclan, which only the lucky or talented starwalkers can tame there are still reincarnations, possessions and shikigami, but the shikigami, instead of being physical, is something like "ancestors coming back to help boost u" (for goldenbreeze, when summoning his cougar shikigami he gains more speed and stealth, and when summoning the burm, he can use rce more easily to heal himself) but theyre not ancestors but straight up animals / cursed ones the colonies can travel to eachothers territories to share knowledge and just even hang out, theres rarely any major war between them due to the whole "common enemy" stuff (thus cross-colony mixing and so is legal, and also theres not really any. "starclan decided rules" like in canon - the leaders decide for their "clans"

i think thats all i came up with...................

[callsign-owl]

Testing Limits - Meeting Ghost

Hereford, United Kingdom - January 2019

The early morning fog hung thick over the training grounds of the SAS base as Owl approached the designated meeting point for his first day of training. Despite the chill, a bead of sweat traced down his temple, not from exertion but the gnawing uncertainty of what lay ahead. Task Force 141 was legendary, and his entry into their ranks under such atypical circumstances left him feeling like an outsider on trial.

Standing there, waiting, Owl's attention was drawn to a figure emerging from the mist. The man's stride was purposeful, his build athletic, and his presence unmistakable even in the subdued light. It was Lieutenant Simon Riley, known to most only as "Ghost," distinguished by the iconic skull-patterned balaclava that obscured his face. Everything about him, from his posture to his measured pace, exuded a calm authority that was almost unnerving.

Ghost stopped a few feet away, his gaze clearly appraising Owl from head to toe. "You must be *redacted*," Ghost's voice was deep, with a distinct Northern English accent that matched his no-nonsense demeanor.

"Yeah, that's me," Owl replied, his tone laced with a defensive sarcasm that did little to mask his underlying tension.

Ghost’s posture stiffened slightly, the silence stretching a beat too long. "I know who you are," he finally said, his tone cool. "Your reputation precedes you, though not necessarily in the way one might hope."

Owl's jaw tightened. This was exactly the kind of reception he had feared but expected. "I guess I'm here to change that," he retorted, trying to salvage some semblance of control over the conversation.

Ghost folded his arms across his chest. "Captain Price has vouched for you, and that carries weight here. But understand this," he paused, ensuring each word hit its mark, "in Task Force 141, we rely on more than just trust. We rely on proof. Proof of skill, proof of commitment, proof of loyalty. You're starting from less than zero here."

Owl nodded. He felt the sting of the words, knowing full well the truth in them. He was a wildcard, a gamble that many in Ghost's position wouldn't have taken.

"Be ready to learn fast and hard. This isn’t a game, and it isn’t the world you’re used to. Here, mistakes have higher stakes than you can imagine." With that, Ghost turned and started walking towards the training area, signaling Owl to follow. As they walked, Owl's mind raced. The skepticism in Ghost’s voice had been clear and in Owl's opinion most likely rightly so.

Ghost led Owl to a relatively isolated section of the field, where a series of physical fitness tests were set up. Owl eyed everything with a sinking feeling, his previous lifestyle choices never having prepared him for anything like this.

"We'll start with a basic fitness assessment. Let’s see what you're capable of," Ghost said, his tone flat but expectant. Despite his stoic appearance, a flicker of skepticism was evident in his posture. He had seen many recruits in his time, and Owl's physical demeanor did not inspire confidence.

The first test was a run. Owl's heart was already pounding from the increasing anxiety. At Ghost's signal, he surged forward with as much energy as he could muster. However, it quickly became apparent that his body wasn't used to this level of exertion. His breath became ragged, his legs started feeling like lead, and long before the finish line, he was gasping for air, hands on his knees, defeated.

Ghost, who had been observing, walked up to Owl and looked down at him, his disappointment evident. "This is a basic requirement, *redacted*. You need to be able to run. Let’s move on."

The next assessment was all about strength. First up were push-ups and Owl barely managed a few before his arms gave out, and he fell flat on the ground. Each subsequent exercise only highlighted his poor physical condition more glaringly. Pull-ups, sit-ups, lifting weights – each task left him more drained than the last, his performances ranging from subpar to dismal.

Ghost watched with a growing frown. "Coordination," he finally said, pointing towards the balance beams. Ghost didn't expect much after what he had witnessed so far. However, there was a faint glimmer of hope, as Owl managed to cross the beams with only minimal unsteadiness, showing some semblance of bodily control.

Before the assessement was even complete, Owl was on the ground, chest heaving, covered in sweat and dirt. He hadn’t been able to complete the final set of drills; his body had simply given out.

Ghost approached him, his expression stern. "You’ve got a long way to go, *redacted*. A long way," he remarked, his voice low but fierce. "This isn't just about being physically fit. It's about being combat-ready. You’re not even close."

Owl looked up from the ground, his face flushed with a mix of exhaustion and embarrassment. "I... I know..."

"If you’re serious about being here, about making it in Task Force 141, you need to do more than just show up. You need to push yourself. Harder than you’ve ever thought necessary.", Ghost said sharply.

Exhausted, lying on the cold, hard ground, Owl could only nod weakly in response to Ghost’s stern words. His body ached, each breath was a labored effort, and his spirit was nearly as battered as his physique. The physical exertion pushing Owl far beyond anything he had experienced before. Ghost's silhouette towered over him, an unyielding figure framed against the gray skies of Hereford, observing Owl with an inscrutable gaze.

"You thinking of quitting?" Ghost's voice cut through the silence, not unkindly but with a directness that forced Owl to look up.

Owl sat up and grimaced. "I'm thinking this might not have been the best idea," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "Maybe prison is the better option after all. Maybe thats where I belong."

Ghost crouched down beside him, bringing himself eye-level with Owl, his voice softened slightly, a surprising change from the hard, commanding tone he’d maintained so far. "It’s meant to be hard, *redacted*. If this was easy, it wouldn’t be worth anything. This life isn’t for everyone. It demands everything from you—more than you might be willing to give. But think about why you’re here, why you chose this path over a cell.”

Owl laughed bitterly, the sound more like a cough. "It wasn't much of a choice, really. It was this or rot away behind bars. But this—this might be beyond me. I’m not cut out for this. I expected it to be hard but not impossible."

"Nobody here was born ready for this life. They made themselves ready. Made themselves what they needed to be.", Ghost replied.

"But what if I can’t make myself into what I need to be?" Owl sighed, his body aching in places he hadn’t known could feel pain. His doubt was palpable, his tone defeated.

"Then you’ll go to prison," Ghost said flatly. "And you’ll never know if you could have done this. But let me tell you something about making hard choices," his voice took on a harder edge, "every man here has made them. Including me. We've all had our moments of doubt, moments when we thought about walking away. The difference is, we didn't."

Owl looked up, meeting Ghost’s gaze. "And if I decide to stay and still fail?"

"At least you’ll know you tried. At least you’ll know you gave it everything," Ghost stood up, extending a hand to help Owl to his feet. "But if you walk away now, you’ll always wonder. And let me tell you, living with 'what if' is far worse than any failure."

Owl took the offered hand, pulling himself up with a groan. He knew Ghost was right. However meeting the set expectations seemed impossible.

"So, what do you say, *redacted*?" Ghost’s voice was now challenging. "You going to give this everything, or are you going to walk away?"

Owl straightened up, feeling a a little resolve building within him. "I’ll - I'll try," he said, his voice firmer. Nevertheless Owl couldn't quite hide the lingering doubt in his tone.

Ghost nodded. "Good. We’re a team. We fail or succeed as one. But make no mistake, you have to be the one to decide to stand up and fight. Every day.”

[safetycar-restart]

💌 let’s treat ourselves to a groping sub!charles headcanon:

mister 16 is a certified big tiddy man! so, of course his pecs come first and catch his lady’s eye constantly. fuck, they are gigantic. that’s an f cup… f like ferrari ;) the 8th wonder of the world. your favorite spot to sleep on: it’s free real estate. because his nips are so sensitive, you pinch and rub them to make him giggle. or tease them with ice cubes until he whines, oh, là, là.

the waist. enough said. it’s so fucking small. perfect to hold and tickle.

those massive thighs. given how he’s always spreading them: easy access to the goods✌️ you grope his legs a lot while he’s driving, feeling the twitch of the muscles when he’s using the breaks. this little mouse turns redder than his fucking car when you fondle the soft insides of his thighs.

biting his arms, they’re so juicy. baby charles loves to walk while holding hands 24/7, so his biceps brushes against you rather sexually by accident all the time. he’s so sorry and flustered, it’s cute.

since he’s a walking dorito? duh, his crazy back & shoulders. the prince of monaco carries his queen piggyback almost everywhere whenever she wishes. you can lean on him like a portable fucking chair while traveling lmao!

his pretty cheeks (and chin, or jaw). as pda, you always stroke them lovingly with the back of your hand, his face is so impeccably gorgeous. we as a society need to award him the sexiest man alive title asap!! that you sometimes slap those blushy cheeks a little bit when you play remains a well kept secret.

the glorious thick warm neck. seriously, his body parts are so inviting wherever you look. the nape is soft and ideal to palm during sex (or pegging, you can grab it while blowing his back out doggy style 😜), the sides are susceptible to hickeys and licks, it’s heaven.

being obsessed with touching his wavy curls. you shampoo them, condition them, play with his hair while he lays on your lap.

and for soft hours? you trace his eyebrows, dimples, and lashes, it’s so calming for the two of you ♡

// george’s long legs anon 👕sending well wishes… and dishing on the physical touch love language 💕

👕 anon, I hope you know that I would die for you. Because I would, I honest to god would. This is fucking incredible.

The underlying theme throughout all of those is that Charles loves to be played with. He just loves when you mess with him. It's ironic because Charles is actually very particular about his personal space, and he doesn't like anyone and everyone touching him.

But you? His dom? You can touch him however and whenever you want to. He has zero concept of personal space when it comes to you, his space is your space. He's yours to touch and to play with, and he thrives on all the attention you give him.

Groping his tits is always a good way to go, especially because it makes him feel so good? It means you like his pecs, means you find him attractive enough to touch and that makes him so so happy. Often he'll come back from a workout session, his shirt clinging to him and then you just walk right up to him and grope him, not even saying hello and he is overjoyed.

But the number one way to make him giggle is his waist. The shrieks of delight he lets out whenever you grab him by the waist and pull him is music to your ears.

And his thighs? Fucking hell his thighs. Firstly, biting them. No blow job is complete without adding a new bite mark to his thighs. And when he's driving? If he's driving an automatic, then he'll literally make sure to keep the legs wide open so that you can grope him whenever you want and have very easy access. You can even take his cock out if you'd like, he's yours to play with.

Then of course there's all the soft ways you can touch him, stroking his cheeks, rubbing his back and shoulders, playing with his hair, kissing his neck, etc. You can make him cry with a few basic touches, because they always make him feel so much??

He feels so safe and loved when you kiss his ears and trace his lips and run your hands through his hair. He's yours to play with, you could touch him however you wanted, and you chose to be soft with him like that? Tears. He is in tears. Your sub is a pile of tears.

[a-rebellious-waffle]

Welcome to a short rant I am titling:

The Vanguard Does Not Know How To Fight A War

Written by someone who writes entirely too many fictional wars and knows entirely too much about fighting them.

The catalyst for my rage was the opening to Lightfall.

So. We begin with a large-scale fleet action between a Shadow Legion-Pyramid Ship fleet and the Traveller.

There is zero trace of any Vanguard-aligned ship in the sector, save for Jumpships. These Jumpships are fighting essentially unsupported against a very large Cabal fleet.

Ladies, gentlemen, and comrades, we are looking at a society with the capability to transmute Glimmer into anything and the ability to have Single-Stage-To-Orbit ships, and yet they cannot figure out what a missile is.

Given that we have had the technology for unmanned objects in space since we first put something into space, and the fact that we currently have the capability to guide things in space around with our only limiting factors being fuel capacity (something that does not seem to limit our ships in Destiny), we should be capable of putting together a very effective ground-to-space missile system.

BUILD ANTI-SHIP MISSILES! FIRE THEM AT THE SHADOW LEGION SHIPS! I mean, fuck, you should've learned this lesson from the god damn Red War. Cabal point defense sucks; the only instance I can think of where it actually worked worth a damn might not have even been Cabal. (Remember when we stole a ship, sabotaged the Almighty and then were shot down as we were heading to fight Ghaul? That incident. And it might not have even been a Cabal anti-aircraft system that shot us down.)

Second: A multitude of these Jumpships were shot down, and yet there doesn't seem to be ANYONE performing Search And Rescue operations until days later.

WE HAVE A BASIC UNDERSTANDING OF RE-ENTRY PHYSICS! Fuck that, we have Ghost scanners! We can easily track a downed Jumpship, figure out their projected crash site, and have a Jumpship to pick up the pilot within hours, unless we somehow forgot what IFF is in the Destiny universe. For proof, I offer the fact that we were repeatedly able to predict the landing site of low-orbit WARSATs within metres of their actual landing site.

Third: We have seen how effective Guardian boarding parties can be. We have single-handedly crippled at least two ships, by my count, and boarded at least five, four of which were in the air. Now, sure, the Guardian is a special case—but send in a Fireteam to cause chaos on some smaller ships! They don't even actually have to successfully cripple the ship; just the attempt would make the Cabal far more hesitant about risking their ships in LEO or atmosphere.

Fourth: You have all of these massive artillery pieces on the Walls. Did you ever consider putting in some anti-aircraft batteries?! I mean, come on! All that open space is just begging for a few missile silos. If it doesn't fit there, station MLRS systems on top of the walls! Come on, guys!

Fifth: If you have the ability to transmat a Guardian, you have the ability to transmat a very large pile of explosives—or a tactical nuclear weapon. I'm not sure even a Pyramid Ship could stand up to a nuke. This could work in conjunction with our Guardian boarding parties, too. Get a team of Guardians onboard a ship, a la Halo: Reach. Give them a transmat beacon. Slip a nuclear device onto the ship, let the Guardians transmat away, and boom. New orbital debris.

"But what about orbital debris destroying the City?" If that was an issue the Vanguard wouldn't be engaging Shadow Legion ships at all, next question.

Sixth: Why are your anti-fighter Jumpships, which are designed for air-to-air combat, not equipped with missiles? If you can pull those maneuvers in a Jumpship you can make a missile do it, so the void isn't the issue. What is?