#they're from the same stupid little molecule

[strnza]

ben learning little phrases in italian and then always saying them from that point on. when she cooks something his first compliment is always in italian, when she's driving and someone cuts them off it's immediately in italian, when she's up late and he's asking her to come back to bed it's in italian, at some point it'll be 50/50 between him saying 'i love you' and 'ti amo'

U  sent  this  6  months  ago  and  i’m  still  stuck  on  it  btw.  <3

[a-ramblinrose]

📕&🧾? <3

📕 Who is your all-time favorite author, and what makes their writing so special to you? 

Terry Pratchett! His writing takes me through practically every emotion you can feel and carries such a belief that humankind can be/and is good. It's fantasy, yes, but fantasy that's so incredibly real.

“All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need… fantasies to make life bearable." REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE. "Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—" YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES. "So we can believe the big ones?" YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING. "They're not the same at all!" YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME…SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED. "Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—" MY POINT EXACTLY.” ― Terry Pratchett, Hogfather

🧾What is the most memorable book ending you’ve ever read? Did it leave you satisfied or wanting more? 

The ending of The Golden Compass is such a lovely scene that absolutely has you wanting to read on.

"So Lyra and her dæmon turned away from the world they were born in, and looked towards the sun, and walked into the sky."

@thequeerlibrarian I realized after you asked that some of the symbols repeat as far as my screen can see so if you wanted a different Q? answered just let me know!

[humanoid--human]

At the heart of it, humans are liars. It's the thing that makes us humans.

There's the obvious lies, of course. Broken promises, innocent deflections. Fraud. Propaganda.

There are some lies so vast, so all-pervasive, we can barely think of them as lies: things like money, or government, or property. Things which do not exist, but for our lies which make them real.

But there's subtler lies too. Metaphors. Paintings. Pictures and videos. All of fiction, the single most important form of human expression, is a lie. In fact human expression is little more than creating ever more beautiful lies.

But all of these are just practice for the really big lies. Compassion. Beauty. Justice. To quote from possibly the single best passage in all of fiction:

“All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable." REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE. "Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—" YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES. "So we can believe the big ones?" YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING. "They're not the same at all!" YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET— Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED. "Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—" MY POINT EXACTLY.

Terry Pratchett, Hogfather

[beevean]

Let's run the gauntlet! Rate each IDW storyline and Netflixvania season against each other! Like who gets first place in shittiness, who gets second third etc

Not really fair since IDW has more arcs, but I'll try :P

The "best" parts of the two works are S1 and... uh... well this is hard, but I'll go with the very beginning of IDW too. There are already some problems (excessive swearing, lack of Grant/Mr. Tinker and everything related to it), but overall, they're solid, short arcs with not many of the problems that would plague later arcs. I like the fight between Trevor and Alucard, and I like Metal Sonic raining fire and brimstone in his quest to revive his master. Nothing much to say.

I would compare the Surge arc with S2, because, well, #girlboss. Those arcs are all about this new shiny villain strutting their stuff around, declaring themselves the hottest shit ever, shittalking the main villain, and being very, very, very annoying (at least Surge isn't a fake radfem, and tbf, the story never wants us to love her because she's a girl). The heroes take a stepback in favor of the OCs, and a few interesting scenes (the fight against Dracula, the potential of Surge's brainwashing and Kit's cutting speech against the "heroes") don't salvage what's ultimately a very boring, drawn out arc. I can also draw a parallel between Sonic being an utter smug asshole, and Alucard being so mean to poor Trevor.

Not sure what I'd compare to S4 because IDW isn't over yet. Mmmh, I hate S4 because of shipteases that lead to infuriating scenes, so... the current arc? The Whispangle apology drama vs. the "cute" Lenector scenes, both examples of jarring morality? Carmilla and Lanoline being both ineffectual unlikeable #girlbosses? An unlikely villain (whatever passes off as Death/a growing city) that diminishes the importance of the original villain? Yeah, let's go with this.

First place in utter shittiness goes, of course, to the MV arc of IDW and S3 of NFCV! Three words to describe them both: pointless misery porn.

Characters suffer in graphic detail for the sake of suffering, the morals (if we want to call them that) are cynical - the world is unfair, you can't trust anyone, if you're kind you will pay for it - some scenes are simply unfit for the series - many The Walking Dead vibes in what's supposed to be a Sonic adaptation, the two random sex scenes in episode 9 - and characters are at their most stupid and most OOC, and dare I say unlikeable - this is where Sonic officially turns into a preaching asshole who thinks begging Eggman to turn good and throwing Espio's trauma in his face are good things (plus, you know, the whole Metal mess), and whatever salvageable things about Hector as an anti-villain get thrown down the drain as he falls for the same "pretty vampire manipulates him" strategy again. The ending has some bullshit choices too: Super Silver manages to somehow rip the metal virus away from the molecules of the infected people, Isaac conveniently is redirected to a giant mirror that would bring him and his army straight to Syria.

And at the end, all that pain? No longer matters! Cream is happy-go-lucky after watching her mother "die" and being infected herself. Alucard gets over his trauma after one episode. Hector is willing to exchange stupid dick jokes with the woman who turned him into a pet.

But fans appreciate their "depth", although in different ways: for the MV arc, it's the whole dark and edgy vibe and the "moral conflict" of "should Sonic have killed Mr. Tinker?" (no the whole problem is that Sonic let Metal go and no one cares); for S3, it's everything about Isaac and his "character development" that is supposedly peak writing (yeah I sure like the poor little thing who stole Hector's arc and also killed a bunch of innocents without that ever being addressed again).

[basic204]

Writing Prompt

Please write up your normal day but make it cyberpunk example:

The first size chirping of my digital alarm brings me out of the hazy sleep I barely got last night into a tactile world of sunlight and stuffy air that seeps in through my windows and past my air filter. I can already hear the sounds of the city outside of my window the film of grime on it giving everything a hazy look. I look away from the window to the universe and the palm of my hand. A 19 by 9 window Of 8 million pixels flares to life with a simple button push infinite configurability and it's the closest thing we have to the morning post Only a lot less friendly. The online forums are already active and justice like the city that never sleeps they continue to share, message and post reminding me that even after I die and my body is cremated the net will buzz on barely noticing my existence.

I leave the cubicle in my room and walk into my kitchen oh this tiny apt. I grabbed my cup and fill it with dihydrogen monoxide. I put it into a machine that blasts it with microwaves to make the molecules jiggle to simulate heat we don't even have real fire anymore just directed energy. As that's happening I spend the next 30 minutes playing catch up on all the things I missed in the twilight loneliness of my room while I slept. The only real connection now come what I see on my screen. The directed energy box beeps and lets me know that my dihydrogen oxide is Finally hot I steep my black tea I'm pouring some ultra filtered milk.

My com chirps once more encrypted message from my boss he needs me come in. He needs me to set up new cloud servers. I'm a Sysadmin. While the code Jockeys are tapping away all night to build you your quick serve applications. I'm the one who keeps it all running who keeps the firewalls hot so the keyboard cowboys don't tear it all down for the LOL's.

I spin up my encrypted Messenger making sure to set it to its maximum settings. I can already hear the transistors in my phone worrying as I type out my message and it prepares to send a 256bit encrypted message to the other side of the country.

We don't even work in the same cities anymore everything's remote. I even work from home. I've never even really touched a physical server in my entire life no I'd log in through command line interfaces plugged right into my eye sockets to the screen in my hand pair it it takes me a few moments to configure the servers spinning them up and then setting them out to their tasks like good little soldiers .

Cloud computing is all the rage but at the end of the day it's all just someone elses computer and I don't trust anything important anymore to be on someone elses system. If I don't own the network then I don't put anything sensitive on it anymore.

As I watched the code scroll as my configuration sets up I check the news and see a new cyberattack takes down AT&T the largest network in the country taking most phone services offline. For me I set up my own years ago piggybacking on the network this city set up. Yeah I said I'm a system administrator but it doesn't mean I wasn't a hacker in a past life you all got to start somewhere.

I see that pharmaceutical networks are being Disrupted by the digital chaos. I checked the configuration on the rest of the servers to make sure they're hardened just in case this stupidity continues. I drink down my tea and I decided it's time for me to head outside and meet up with a few friends I have left in this city

I put on my air filtration mask filtering 99.999% of all the air I breathe to keep out The noxious and polluted air but to also protect me from the return of the flu and covid19. Add over to my elevator and take it down and as I pass the various floors in here the voices of my neighbors talking once I'm on the ground floor I hear my neighbor Gloria arguing with the security guard about who they should vote for president doesn't matter they're both digital sock puppets nothing's going to change. I hear Gloria ask her phone her facts about one of the candidates the AI on her phone reaches out into the net and scoops up the most convenient pieces of information and presented to her just how she wants it curated to exactly the way she wants to see the world. I drawn out the political nonsense by putting in headphones and tuning into a consensual hallucination does it make my way to the Enter way to the trains.

[starvette]

T 25/90 || K2 || GF = K + 8

Am I struggling on my Kitavan diet? A bit yes, already. Planning meals meticulously far ahead helps. Just gotta have funding and stay mindful and present, and focused, and plan. I got discount soybean fettuccine. A hundred grams of that has forty five grams of protein. I won't have to have anything else for the day. Well, I should shred some of that cabbage into new kaleslaw. I think I'll just write a lot about food now. I exported the most aesthetic quotes from Marya's book to my email. During difficult moments I shall reread those.

There's a sun crisis. It's not coming out of the damn clouds! I looked at the forecast and they're saying it won't come back for the entirety of July?! This is actually catastrophic.

I think I'll need to stop buying berries. They're just too delicious. I can't stop eating right now. Just woke up at four in the morning. I dreamt about guiltily buying cake (it was a cherry chocolate type of situation). Bingewatched pictures of cake and Claire Saffitz baking cookies. Then more Titan. Pictures of sundaes and banana splits. Just very very very very very very lazy today. Sat for like five hours straight.

At noon or so I was presented with A Cat. I was meant to take care of him for a day. He snores with every inhale. We slept together. It was all nice. Until late at night when he started begging to go outside. Looks like cats do understand what's behind that entrance door! It's a relief. I heard booms of thunder as I was making my soybean fettuccine. I finished it and opened the window to watch the lightning show with cat but alas he immediately jumped down outside. I had to finish my fettuccine that I worked for so hard before going after him. It was just five minutes. You already know how fast I can wolf down a bowl of pasta. And by then he was nowhere to be found. Clearly, no desire to return home. Then, a terrible shower started.

For a couple days now I've lost my fin fear and have been applying it to my arms and, ahem, nipple. I put the microscope out of my mind until the 30th. I'll see if I can get those photographs taken by some pro at a clinic. Besides, I've got my control nipple (which I'm not afraid to show) and control arm. I'm going through Derek's amazing lectures and wishing I could just download them all to my brain. He said he can get all the molecules he wants pretty easily. I felt like a stupid little baby hearing that. Mairi said I wouldn't get scarring. Maybe I can bypass this whole drug route. But then again I don't trust anyone.

Fucking hate this diet. There's even no more cheapy legume pasta at LIDL. Things I can eat: Legume pasta (the only thing I actually *like*), chia pudding (the best vehicle for collagen), frozen veggie mix, veggie soup with soy croutons, seasoned lentil cakes with olive oil, nutritional yeast on everything, nuts and seeds by themselves, olives with health crackers (expensive), cherry tomatoes, avocado just by itself?! (I won't be seeing fish roe again until my next lifetime so forget about that avoroe delicacy), kaleslaw or some other nasty salad, TOFU (god bless her), salmon, I don't know if tuna ever again...I can't think of anything else. Beans and friends. Although I did read that people started cultivating those around the same time as grains so really why are legumes so much better?! I am technically allowed berries too but I'm so miserable that I can't help gobbling the entire 400 gram pack down right away which is not how they're meant to be consumed at this time. Those frozen bitches are at peak ripeness and *very* sweet. Well, and then there is coffee and teas, and my fake and gay almond milk. I was also looking at three ingredient vegan keto cookies but I don't know if I should be using xylitol right now. Not to mention the pricetag. Time has slowed down. Maybe that's exactly what I needed. After all it had sped up so much I had to start writing this blog.

If I can manage this for any meaningful length of time, then I would later be adding in potatoes and corn, berries, and maybe grapefruits. Oh, and oatmeal? After I'm done with three months of no gluten? Ha. I think I'll always be afraid of whole wheat unless I test it with a CGM. Which costs money.

Yesterday I was looking at deep sea fish and I read that at least one of them could go five years without eating. It helps to imagine myself as a deep sea fish that eats disgusting slimy organic matter - anything at all with nutrients, the raw building blocks of life. I read of another fish that can live for up to two hundred years in complete darkness. I wonder what the hell do you do with such a life. I think these fish must be very enlightened.

[thunderheadfred]

🤚The Second Worst (Pt. 1/?)🤚

Part 2 of my Shigaraki Thesis Headcanons. HC's // The Second Worst: 1 - 2

The half-mad ghost of Shimura Tenko is in love with you, and your life is about to become a tragic wreck. -- AKA here's when I gave up on bullet points and went off the fuckin rails

I'm self-conscious about writing so much, so uhhhh, please be kind, hahaaa. This is rather long and involved. Are these still even HCs or just a self-indulgent AU outline? There are some mysteries we may never solve.

This is on AO3 now, if you prefer reading there. Anyway. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

You met Tenko before the League existed.

Believe it or not, there are a million ways it might have happened, but in the end: you were both bargain-binning in Akihabara.

You reached for a copy of a collectible bullet-hell cute-'em-up (near-mint! CIB!!!) and accidentally bonked hands with a complete stranger. He flinched about five million feet away from you. Ouch. You're just a nobody, quirkless and average, but you didn't think you were THAT repulsive.

(You're not. Hell, even if you were, this guy couldn't care less. He barely registers that you have a face.)

(Shigaraki is accustomed to getting in and out of this shop in seconds. He always comes in before anyone else and goes straight home. -- Is that really home? Is 'home' a real place? -- ANYWAY he's already pirated this shit, god, why does he even care? He doesn't need to be here. Father doesn't like it. Is that why he's here? Just to do something Father doesn't like? That's pathetic.)

He's had at least ten complete internal arguments with himself before he so much as looks at you.

You know in the tenth of a second he actually meets your eyes... this fucker is going to fight you to the death over this game.

- - - The death match ends in a draw. He was not expecting you to know the first fucking thing about this game. Nobody knows about it, even in Japan. Who the fuck do you even think you are? Oh, no, he's still taking it. But... maybe he can show you how to play it it. He'll give you a little taste, just to make you jealous. He's got his hoodie pulled down like he's going to commit an act of terrorism. What little you can see of his face looks twitchy and messed up. If you have any survival instincts at all, they're kicking in right about now. But... why not. You're not going anywhere with this dude unsupervised, so you suggest a crowded web cafe down the street. The cafe has the necessary console... but the retro gaming booth is laughably small. The TV is about four inches across and you end up having to practically sit in his lap. You were sure this guy was a nasty fucking creep, but he's................ only mostly terrible. Way too angry, for sure. Has no idea how to have a normal, friendly conversation. Inadvertently insults you every other sentence and seems to have a deep-seated persecution complex.

You'd prefer to be mad about the awful company, but... he's obviously deprived of human contact. When it's established that you two share a lot of media fixations, he calms down and starts treating you a little more like a human being. Or at least like a fellow elite.

Wherever he came from, he doesn't seem to want to go back. He keeps pushing you to play one more level, pretending he wants to beat your score. You feel kinda bad for him. You get the distinct feeling that his life is a disaster. He looks like he's never had a full night of sleep in his life. He trips your trigger hairs in that 'is he gonna follow me home?' kind of way, but... up close, he's a lot more depressing than scary. At the very least, you want to buy him a stupidly cute dessert. Just... as thanks. For letting you try out the game and stuff. It's not a big deal, so just pick a flavor, okay? The world isn't actually that awful, y'know.

It's not even that impressive... Definitely not a great cafe. But he takes practically a full hour to eat a single slice of strawberry cake.

When the hoodie comes down. He's all shriveled and dried out, like someone left him him in the desert to die. He chews on his peeling bottom lip and nervously scratches his neck. He doesn't thank you for the cake. Which is fine. It's not a big deal. Actually, you wish he would eat faster; you feel weirdly responsible for him now.

Under all that mess he's... gorgeous? His hair is stunning: a bright, gleaming silver that catches the light. His bone structure is flawless. If it weren't for all the scars and the misanthropic slouch, he'd look like a fairy fucking prince.

You were not prepared for that. In another life he could have been a model, the type of guy who would never even look at you. But something bad happened to him. Something... very bad. Do you even want to know? You have no idea how to ask. Has anyone ever been nice to him? It doesn't seem like it. Should YOU be nice to him? You sort of want to try. - - - This becomes a regular thing. This weird little secret. You should probably tell someone when you see him, just in case you don't come back one day, but you say nothing; how the hell would you explain why you want to see him so bad? You don't know his full name. Maybe he's on a watch list. When he gives you a long string of random numbers so you can schedule meet-ups (is THAT his e-mail, really?) he tells you to just... call him Tenko. Or whatever. It doesn't matter. (He sneaks out when Father is deep in his plots. As long as he comes home on time, it doesn't really matter where he goes, right?) He brings a different game every time. He has an insane collection. Where does he get the money for all this? You know he doesn't work. God, is it drugs? It's probably drugs. Wherever these hidden gems came from, he proudly shows them off to you, like he's never had an audience before. It's sort of cringe-inducing, the way he one-ups and rubs every little victory in your face, desperate for attention.

But at the same time, you are becoming too... something...to mind. Do you... like him? He's not funny, but he thinks you are. His mouth is huge when he laughs. He seems to hate everyone but you, and you've had to earn the distinction of being merely tolerable. Still, he gets really excited about random shit like the garage kit black market and haunted dolls and the price of weed on the dark web.

And... strawberry cake. The realization hits you both at the same time when the waitress brings one piece with two forks. God, what the fuck, are you... are you dating? Quick, think. You look forward to seeing him, and don't even mind sitting close to him anymore. Sometimes you push your leg up against him just to see if he'll still flinch away... and he doesn't.

You jealously notice the way he touches everything but you: with delicate precision, one finger at a time. His large, elegant hands always have a pinky up like he's aspiring for a fiefdom, and you wonder what his skin feels like. You go home and dwell on the way he plucks flowering weeds out of the pavement in front of the cafe. The way he stands rooted to the spot as you leave, just... looking at nothing, unsmiling.

You watch his lips too much, and not just because you want to buy him chapstick. You catch him gaping at you all the time. You thought he was just creepy like that, but maybe... Yeah. I guess you are dating him. Shit. - - - Okay, so, yeah. Bringing him back to your place was definitely a bad idea. You know you shouldn't trust him, even if he is... apparently... your boyfriend? Sort of? You still don't have his phone number. So. Um. What now? You order overpriced pizza and queue up a campy horror movie. What the fuck are you even doing. You don't really think he's going to murder you anymore, but... still. Is the suburban massacre scene gonna give him ideas? Turns out, no. He doesn't like gore, even when the blood is neon pink. He gets upset. Like, really upset. Shaky and green, like he might puke on you. He can't stop scratching that scaly spot on his neck.

Tenko, are you crying? Fucking hell, did you just trigger him? Of course he has a traumatic past, it's carved all over his face. You're so fucking stupid. You don't know how to make it right. You want to hug him, kiss him... anything. But he's never really touched you, and you're too afraid to push now. It ruins the whole night. He leaves without explaining anything. Doesn't even say goodbye. He just. Leaves. Maybe you'll never see him again. Maybe that's for the best. Your chest hurts. - - - He shows up at your door a few weeks later. You haven't heard from him since that disastrous movie night. You had pretty much accepted that you'd broken up with a boyfriend you never actually had. But no. Apparently not.

This time, he’s brought his own entertainment. He's holding a boxed set of some show you're not familiar with. You're distracted by these weird little half-gloves he's wearing, like a cyberpunk hacker. That's a new look, and even if it's a bit edgelord adjacent, he makes it look cool. You tell him as much. It's the first time you've let on how attractive you find him. He's wearing a tight black shirt with a deep, deep V-neck. That's distracting too.

He clears his slender throat and doesn't look at you.

You try to apologize for before, but he's acting like it never happened. What are you even talking about? Have you seen this OVA or not? Get out of the way and let him in already. You've watched three episodes now, but you still have no idea what this stupid anime is about. You can't pay attention to a single frame. All you can think about is how his arm has crept up behind your shoulders. A few inches more and he'll be holding you. Does he... want to hold you? You lean toward him so slowly your spine creaks. One molecule at a time. After a thousand years, your head slides nervously under his chin. His arm comes down, locking you in, fingers clutching your sleeve in a death grip. Even that snobby little pinky. His head tucks down into you hair. A sharp collarbone bites into your cheek. His heartbeat is hard, fast, and irregular. There's not a scrap of fat on him, and as you wrap your arm around his stomach, you think you see a twitch in his pants. Is that just you being desperate? Or... hopeful? This is really happening. --- Soon, you learn that Tenko is a clumsy kisser. It doesn't matter; the fact that he's kissing you at all is good enough for now. His lips are dry, but not half as dry as you expected. There's a slick of menthol helping things along; he's been using something medicated on his lips. Plus, his mouth tastes like he drank a gallon of mouthwash.

All this thrills you more than a little, because it means he came here wanting to impress you. Wanting you. Full stop. Underneath that minty sting is a strange, worrisome aftertaste, like something rotten. Your brain fires off an alarm. Stop kissing him. Right now. This thing will make you sick. But his hands nervously slide over your body... and you decide not to worry about it. Instead, you kiss him deeper. He makes a sweet, startled little noise. Your brain is a fucking liar. It occurs to you he's probably never done this before.

When you lace your fingers in his and try to pull one of his gloves off, he rips his hand away.

Don't. That’s the only explanation he gives.

No need to ask if it's a quirk thing or a trauma thing. Judging by how jittery he gets, it's probably both. You remember the way his hands almost float over objects without ever holding them. Maybe his touch is dangerous. Maybe that's why his face looks like that.

Maybe you should learn more about him before things go way too far...

No. It can't be that bad. Now that he's in your arms, everything frightening about him evaporates. He's vulnerable. He's alone. He's shaking a little. Has anyone else ever seen this side of him? You want to keep him all to yourself, just like this.

So what if he has to touch you with gloves on? You've heard of worse quirk-related inconveniences.

It's okay, Tenko. Do you want to keep going?

You put his hands back on you and wait for him to kiss you again. It doesn't take long.

---

You open his pants. He's long and thin, calloused even here. Every part of him feels untouched, unloved. You hold him tight and squeeze.

It doesn't seem to occur to him to please you in return. He looks afraid. Confused. You're sure you scared him earlier with the glove thing. Is this too much? No. He gasps and leans into you. The tiniest, broken please.

He cums in your hand right away, face buried in your shoulder, his eyes wet and hidden.

I have to go, he says. Over and over and over.

It's okay, Tenko.

You know he doesn't want to.

- - - - - (oops I wrote more)

[luxlightly]

I can't begin to explain why "strive to teach children to be in pain instead of teaching them to strive to create joy" is an extremely unhealthy and counterproductive mindset so I'll let a far better writer than myself do it for me:

All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

"They're not the same at all!"

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

MY POINT EXACTLY."

- The Hogfather by Terry Pratchett

There's no periodic element of kindness. You can't find it under a microscope. There's no test to quantify hope or compassion. We made them up. But we also made up cruelty. And hatred. We made up everything. Humanity isn't a chemical reaction. It's people who choose and feel and choose to feel.

You say the world is hopeless in the same breath you ask why we should teach children to hope and you don't see the irony in it.

Bad things happen. We fail. We get hurt. We die.

But we also live. We succeed. We love.

Telling children there's nothing to hope for doesn't stop them from being hurt by the realities of the world and the extent of its cruelty, it just teaches them they shouldn't believe it can improve, shouldn't strive to improve it. You can't hurt someone to "prepare" them for pain. You just add to it.

All that does is ensure there's even less hope. Tell them there is no kindness and you create a world that is even less kind. We create stories not just to reflect the world, but to shape it. And if we're not going to try to shape the world for the better sometimes then, dear god, what's the point?

Tragedy is important in media, as much as joy, but when we believe that the only response to tragedy is acceptance of its inevitably, we stop striving to create a world with more joy. We stop believing we can. Or that we even should.

Another quote from Terry Pratchett, to sum things up since he's far better spoken than me and I'm half asleep so this is probably been mostly incoherent

Why does the third of the three brothers, who shares his food with the old woman in the wood, go on to become king of the country? Why does James Bond manage to disarm the nuclear bomb a few seconds before it goes off rather than, as it were, a few seconds afterwards? Because a universe where that did not happen would be a dark and hostile place. Let there be goblin hordes, let there be terrible environmental threats, let there be giant mutated slugs if you really must, but let there be hope. It may be a grim, thin hope, an Arthurian sword at sunset, but let us know that we do not live in vain.

-Terry Pratchett, Let There Be Dragons

Let us know we do not live in vain.

It's legit been so strange watching older movies with my roommate who hasn't seen many classics. Strange how it blindsides him when, in 80s and 90s movies, things...work out. The heroes survive. The impossible to escape bomb is disarmed at the last second instead of the main character dying to get rid of it. The person dangling off a cliff is caught just as they fall. The hero who dreamed of something their whole life gives everything and they get what they wanted in return. It ends with every person fulfilling their big goal. Or, if their goal changes, they don't just accept it as a necessary sadness, they find some other goal that makes them even happier.

That's not to say that tragedy and sacrifice doesn't exist in those movies. But it feels different. It feels like tragedy. The narrative doesn't feel so much like it's telling us it's the ideal outcome.

And it struck me just how much media right now has the moral of "you have to accept you can't get what you want. You have to accept some level of suffering. You must learn to give up what you want most in order to find peace and acceptance".

Especially kids media. I can't remember the last kids movie or show I've seen where the hero just...wins. It feels "unrealistic" to people.

I'm so sick of "acceptance" being the goal. Why should kids have to believe that the healthiest thing they can do is let go? Why is hoping and dreaming framed as almost unhealthy? What does it say about the generation that's now making media that the happiest ending we can imagine is being at peace with never getting what we dreamed of?

[themousefromfantasyland]

Santa Claus and the Nature of Belief

I doubt anyone will read this thing, but here's my not-so-little essay: God is as real as Santa, and Santa is as real as God, and I don't say this in a negative way.

Every holiday season I end up reflecting about Santa and the nature of belief as a whole.

We tell our kids to believe in Santa, and generally we try to protect that belief for as long as we can. A frequent theme in Christmas movies is the kid or adult that don't believe in Santa Claus, but by the end of the movie their faith is restored and magic can be sensed everywhere.

And I wonder, what was all that truly about.

Yes, Virginia. There's a Santa Claus

This is the most reprinted newspaper editorial in the English language, and one of the most important pieces of Holiday lore in North America.

Virginia O'Hanlon was the daughter of a coroner's assistant, Dr. Philip O'Hanlon. In 1897, at eight years old, she asked her father if Santa Claus existed. Her father recommended that she send her question to "The Sun", a very important newspaper from New York City, which ran from 1833 until 1950. This was her original letter.

For the surprise of everyone involved The Sun responded the question of the little girl. As far as I can see there was no utterior motive. The paper ran the editorial in the seventh place on the page, below even one on the "chainless bicycle". But it was noticed by the readers. It became almost a legend.

What is important about the story is that the author of the editorial was Francis Pharcellus Church. This man was a war correspondent during the American Civil War. He saw pain, death, misery and despair.

"The Rest of the Story", a radio program that presented little-known or forgotten facts of History, described Church as a hardened cynic and an atheist who had little patience for superstitious beliefs. Initially, he didn't wanted to write the editorial. He even refused to allow his name to be attached to it.

His other writings typically espoused hardened cynicism, skepticism toward religion and superstition. Yet, his most memorable work celebrates faith.

Was he forced to write this thing? Why someone so contrary to blind faith and superstitious beliefs would try so hard to protect and legitimate the beliefs of a young girl? We will never know the answer.

Santa as a metaphor for God.

Mr. Kringle is not concerned for himself, if he was he wouldn't be here. He is in this regrettable position because he is willing to sacrifice himself for children. To create in their minds a world far better than the one we've made for them. If this is, as Mr. Collins suggests, a masquerade then Mr. Kringle is eager to forfeit his freedom to preserve that masquerade. To subject himself to prosecution to protect the children's right to believe. If this court finds that Mr. Kringle is not who he says he is, that there is no Santa, I ask the court to judge which is worse: A lie that draws a smile or a truth that draws a tear.

Miracle on 34th Street

To believe in something even when it doesn't make sense or when you don't have proof. This is a frequent theme in Santa movies. Many use Santa as a commentary on the nature of faith and use him as metaphor to the Christian god. No one took it so far as the 1998 remake of Miracle on 34th street.

The final proof on court that Kris Kringle may not be crazy is that since the US Department of Treasury can put "In God We Trust" on US currency with no hard evidence, then the people of New York can believe in Santa Claus in the same way.

The "Hogfather" and Terry Pratchett

I wrote this essay because I recently read the "Hogfather" by Terry Pratchett, and he basically wrote the best argument for faith and belief that I've ever seen.

First, there's this dialogue exchange:

"There are many who say this... person does not exist," he said.

He must exist. How else could you so readily recognize his picture. And many are in correspondence with him.

Well, yes, of course, in a sense he exists..."

In a sense everything exists

But this one takes the cake. This dialogue is between Susan Sto Helit and her grandfather Death, the best character in the book mind you. This is after they save the Hogfather, the Discworld version of Santa.

Susan: Thank you. Now...tell me...

Death: WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF YOU HADN'T SAVE HIM?

Susan: Yes! The sun would have risen just the same, yes?

Death: NO

Susan: Oh, come on. You can't expect me to believe that. It's an astronomical fact."

Death: THE SUN WOULD NOT HAVE RISEN

Susan: It's been a long night, Grandfather. I'm tired and I need a bath! I don't need silliness!

Death: THE SUN WOULD NOT HAVE RISEN

Susan: Really? Then what would have happened, pray?

Death: A MERE BALL OF FLAMING GAS WOULD HAVE ILLUMINATED THE WORLD.

Susan: All right, I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need...fantasies to make life bearable.

Death: REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

Susan: Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—

Death: YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

Susan: So we can believe the big ones?

Death: YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

Susan: They're not the same at all!

Death: YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

Susan: Yes. But people have got to believe that, or what's the point—

Death: MY POINT EXACTLY.

And it continues...

Death: THERE IS A PLACE WHERE TWO GALAXIES HAVE BEEN COLLIDING FOR A MILLION YEARS. DON'T TRY TO TELL ME THAT'S RIGHT.

Susan: Yes, but people don't think about that. Somewhere there was a bad...

Death: CORRECT. STARS EXPLODE, WORLDS COLLIDE, THERE'S HARDLY ANYWHERE IN THE UNIVERSE WHERE HUMANS CAN LIVE WITHOUT BEING FROZEN OR FRIED, AND YET YOU BELIEVE A BED. IT IS THE MOST TALENT."

Susan: Talent?

Death: OH, YES. A VERY SPECIAL KIND OF STUPIDITY. YOU THINK THE UNIVERSE IS INSIDE YOUR HEADS.

Susan: You make us sound mad. A nice warm bed...

Death: NO. YOU NEED TO BELIEVE IN THINGS THAT AREN'T TRUE. HOW ELSE CAN THEY BECOME?

Belief makes us human

It doesn't matter which religion is the true one because no one is. At the same time, all of them are.

Religion is about humans in the past finding patterns in the chaotic world, and trying to survive through it. By believing there's a order in the world, they were able to bring order to their communities and to their personal lives.

Belief is part of our nature. It's our way of understanding the world, of making sense of it all.

These characters and stories in a sense are very much real. They are metaphors for the forces we struggle with in our daily lives, the eternal hardship that is to be human

They don't have to be absolutely real to mean something. Think about your favorite character. They aren't real, but what they represent, best, what they represent to you, this is very real.

Listen, I not advocating for complete abandonment of logic and reality. Today we have a very serious problem with people who completely disregard facts and cults. They consume fake news, they believe in stupid pseudo-science and by refusing critical thinking they put others into danger.

And then there are the Christian fundamentalists, that by all talk about "Religious Freedoms", they really meat forcing their belief system in others and control what people can or cannot believe.

Facts and logic are very important. Always believe in the Science. And, I can stress this enough, Critical Thinking is ESSENTIAL to escape con artists and charismatic cult leaders.

But you can force people to live by only what it can be proved. We aren't robots. There will always be a hole that rationality alone won't be able fill. A deep existential hole that If left unchecked will destroy you bit by bit.

I'm not saying "You need to convert" or "You need religion". But there's clearly something way deep and transcendental in these rituals and stories.

I don't really believe in God and the supernatural. I say that as a gay men who had a lot issues with my overly religious parents. But the gods and these rituals and stories clearly mean something, and I think we shouldn't dismiss the living experiences of these people as just mere superstitions, be then christians, muslins, jews, Wiccans, neopagans, hindus, etc.

Belief certainly brought something to their lives, and certainly they know something we don't.

If your faith makes you happy, if it helps you bring order to your life, if helps you appreciate the world better, if it doesn't force you to discriminate, your faith is completely and integrally valid, and you don't have to prove it to anyone

[andiais1]

Quote of the day from the inimitable, incredible, dearly loved and greatly missed Terry Pratchett. One of the best students of humanity’s foibles, wonders and faults.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

"They're not the same at all!"

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

MY POINT EXACTLY.

[cipher-of-the-round-table]

...there must be a related Sir Terry Pratchett quote I can give you as advice....

In the meantime, all I've got on me is:

‘“All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

"They're not the same at all!"

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

MY POINT EXACTLY.’

From Hogfather. Will this do for the time being?

what if. i loved my life. to spite my mother.

[cipher-of-the-round-table]

This is going to seem creepy and somewhat parasocial, and I apologise.

But if it makes you feel better.

There’s this one passage from a book that… changed me.

It goes:

‘ “All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

"They're not the same at all!"

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

MY POINT EXACTLY. ‘

- Sir Terry Pratchett, on why even believing things can be better, can help just a little bit to make sense of the world - from his fantasy comedy Christmas novel masterpiece: Hogfather.

I do hope this helps.

God this sounds condescending. I never intended it to be.

I wish I felt better right now

[sayrefoxx]

If i may add some of Discworlds finest from Sir Terry Pratchett

All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

"They're not the same at all!"

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

MY POINT EXACTLY

And

"The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.

Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles.

But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that'd still be keeping his feet dry in ten years' time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet."

This was the Captain Samuel Vimes 'Boots' theory of socioeconomic unfairness.

“i am a monument to all your sins” is such a fucking raw line for a villain it’s amazing that it came from halo, a modernish video game, and not some classical text or mythos

[curieously]

I like this sentiment a lot about the purpose of stories / fiction, and it kinda reminds me of this bit from Terry Prachett’s Hogfather:

“All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable." REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE. "Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—" YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES. "So we can believe the big ones?" YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING. "They're not the same at all!" YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED. "Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—" MY POINT EXACTLY.”  

thought on why humans invest so much in fictional things that don't exist?

bestie idk if you meant it in a way that is like [haha funny ask dont expect a serious answer] but i have thots on this. literally the weight of storytelling brings me to my knees (daily). no im Not okay (-> promise)

literally i keep thinking abt. fiction as a means of escaping the world And also as a way of connecting with it. and how these happen simutaneously. stories - say, passing down and being a self portrait of the teller but simutaneously All stories are a collaboration even when written by one person in solitude because nothing ever is an island,, people indulge in fiction as a way of escaping reality but truly that will never be a way of divorcing ourselves from the world because fiction, no matter how outlandish, is a product of this world. we call them “fictional things that don’t exist” but they very much exist, not in the sense that they are about real people or events, but because they exist in this world at the same time as us, as stories. there are so many different reasons why people invest so much in fiction and it doesn’t have to be That deep (sometimes you just want a fun movie to get your mind off of things yknow) but like. the very idea that we keep telling each other stories,, that we keep indulging in them,, i think its a very ‘of the world’ quality to feel like escaping from the world every once in a while,, ouroboros etc! <3

[perfectlycriminal]

From The Hogfather, by Terry Pratchett;

“All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

"They're not the same at all!"

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

MY POINT EXACTLY.”

Be where the falling angel meets the rising ape. Believe. There is magic, there is a point. We must make it so.

I wish magic was real and life wasn’t pointless