#while living in deep space

[lost-technology]

My brain's been chewing on a weird, small worldbuilding-tidbit that I was thinking of having a passing mention of in a '98 based fanfic. The idea applies to all, though. So, I've been seeing some youtube videos and arguments regarding religion and the usual rhetoric that "as societies modernize, religion goes away" and the old idea that "one day, religion will be nothing more than a curious relic." I disagree with this. I'm a little freak who retains spirituality even though I reject most of the dogma I used to adhere to. I think there are more people like this than advertised. It also annoys me because, historically, how many CENTURIES have people been saying this? Philosophers in the 1800s, I think even some in the 1700's were so utterly SURE that in the future nobody would be religious anymore - yet, here we are. Like it or not, it's still...a thing. Anyway, people have been waiting for and assuming the Pure Secularist Future for frickin' ever and making assumptions about sci-fi universes. "What does God need with a starship?" and all that. Meanwhile, in TRIGUN, which does things differently, one of the main-catalyst characters, the protagonist's beloved mommy openly talks about believing that her dead boyfriend is in Heaven and refers to her birthed-from-a-human-created species children as "angels" or being "like angels." Plant-engineers in the manga refer to Plants as "having the appearance of the messengers of God." Anyway, the main thing is, here is Rem, a scientist who lives on a spaceship occasionally throws out Christianese in everyday speech. (I don't remember her doing such in the manga), but in '98 and Stampede, it's there when I'm pretty sure that some of the youtubers I've watched recently would think she probably shouldn't be on a space-science team because "300 years from now, people like her won't exist." Or if they do, they should be barred from science due to "being crazy." It got me thinking, what if there's a social turn-around in the Trigun universe? What if the creation of the Plants and the discovery that they pull things from "a higher dimension" actually revives spiritual impulse in human society? Maybe there's not any particular controlling dogma that anyone adheres to anymore during the spacefaring age, but maybe it is not uncommon at all for people to believe in "God," or in "Heaven" or the concept of angelic beings because, well, here are creatures that contact a mysterious, unknowable dimension and essentially do supernatural feats. I mean, it's RIGHT THERE, so maybe it's not considered "unscientific" to have a spiritual lean anymore. Just food for thought... because Rem likes talking about angels and ISN'T looked at strangely for it or told to "be more rational." Maybe at that point in time, viewpoints like hers are considered the most rational thing in the universe.

[mccoyquialisms]

even though the time quangle live show stuff is technically not canon, my Adaine and Fabian as inseparable besties agenda lives on ❤️

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been trying to figure out a dynamic between neve and rye that I find more compelling, because right now there's not much of anything there for me to sink my little teeth into. but I think I've landed on something delicious with the idea that especially after minrathous gets fucked, rye looks at neve and sees myrna -- someone he feels he keeps letting down horribly no matter how hard he tries not to and can't quite achieve the approval of/connection with that he wishes so it's better to just pull away completely and disengage rather than stay in that unshifting shame. neve is (very understandably) measured and distant with him after what happened, and he's flashing back to his student days of myrna gazing at the perpetually hungover heartbroken heap of a person of him on the other side of her desk every time he missed the deadline of a paper or project like '...can we at least both agree that this is. a bit disappointing. especially considering your potential.' (and him all smudged black eyeshadow and numb ruefulness being like 'sure that's a very kind way to put it myrna thank you'.)

aside from the 'if I let him get too deeply into this he'll go the way of brom and it'll be all my fault (again)' element, neve thinks rye is dismissing her and her city/being a bit callous in the same way he was after varric's death (listen. how fucking wild must rook's reaction to losing a beloved mentor seem to the rest of the crew who aren't seeing the blood magic paper doll ghost varric the whole time, especially those who got to see them interact. you WOULD think 'there's something wrong with this guy. putting the job first is one thing just not seeming to react at all is another this is fucking freaky', wouldn't you, especially after seeing the warmth in that dynamic in action beforehand.) perfect storm of two people who grit their teeth and turn inwards in pain deciding that not talking about it is their best bet (NEWSFLASH: IT ISN'T) lmao

(rye spent his last year of watcher training on a mostly joyless bender and then got it together enough to finish the eternal orb project last moment in a fevered near-sleepless week instead of the half a year that was intended. emmrich is both astounded and distressed to hear this. "a week? but -- but that is an astounding accomplishment rook!! and also why in the maker's good light would you ever do that to yourself?" ("well you see there was no one to stop me from doing it like that but me. and under those conditions these things tend to happen".) rye was working through/looking up stuff around transitioning and doing every kind of OTHER high level watcher research through that whole time, but ultimately he's an excellent watcher and a terrible student, at least under traditional methods. adhd from here to the fucking moon. touched by something akin to divine inspiration in moments of high tension that pulls all the threads into one coherent unbreakable cord, a bit of a frayed mess in most other settings. in our world he'd be dropping out of a masters program at the very last hurdle in this moment maker bless and protect him)

[yellowlaboratory]

It’s been a while, you good?

I love y'all for checking up on me LOL 🫶🫶🫶

I'm okay, just MIA from Tumblr for a work trip. and obviously still upset and angry and pissed tf off about a lot right now. I have a few asks in my inbox I'll use to rant in more detail but this is just a smoke signal to let y'all know I haven't disappeared LMAO

[bugganox]

I see people drawing or writing of sea gods deitys (specifically goddesses) more often than not being dainty, feminine, majestic, and very conventionally pretty. And yes, the ocean itself is quite pretty and majestic. But I would also like to counterpoint that with, way more of the ocean is FUCKING TERRIFYING. And I think that is the most beautiful part of it as a whole. Now, you can draw your characters however you want- don’t let some random guy on the internet tell you what to do. There isn’t anything wrong with drawing them prettily at all! I. I just. I LOVE the goddesses that look like sea monsters. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. I like drawing characters that are meant to be deity’s in a way that represents what they rein over, and the ocean is an incredibly vast and fascinating concept. I just feel like there is so much design potential in characters like that, why stick to such a conventional look when The ocean is basically the opposite of conventional? The ocean is weird, creepy, and vast- but still beautiful despite everything. Get weird! Don’t be afraid to be creative in your art, especially when the world we live in is anything but.

[chainofclovers]

Being a human is literally like this weird combo of being okay and not okay that goes on forever except there is also death

[scarefox]

James about dealing with anxiety

[moe-broey]

Hmmmm.....

[puddingcatbeans]

家後 wife - 江蕙 jody jiang

有一日咱若老 找無人甲咱有孝 one day when we are old / and our children have flown the nest 我會陪你 坐惦椅寮 聽你講少年��時袸你有外賢 i will sit with you / and listen to you tell stories of your glory days 吃好吃醜無計較 怨天怨地嘛袂曉 i don't mind whether we eat good or bad / i won't demand anything more 你的手 我會甲你牽條條 因為我是你的家後 your hand, i will hold it tight / because i am your wife

阮將青春嫁置恁兜　阮對少年隨你隨甲老 i gave my youth to you / i followed you from then to now 人情世事已經看透透　有啥人比你卡重要 i've seen all life has to offer / who, other than you, can be more important? 阮的一生獻乎恁兜　才知幸福是吵吵鬧鬧 i gave my life to this house / and learned that happiness is bickering with you 等待返去的時袸若到　我會讓你先走 when it is finally time to go / i will let you go first 因為我會不甘　放你　為我目屎流 because i can't bear to let you shed tears for me

有一日咱若老　有媳婦子兒有孝 one day when we are old / with sons and daughters-in-law that come to visit 你若無聊　拿咱的相片　看卡早結婚的時袸你外緣投 if you are bored, look at our photographs / see how handsome you looked at our wedding 穿好穿歹無計較　怪東怪西嘛袂曉 i don't mind if we wear good clothes or bad / i won't blame a thing 你的心　我著永遠記條條　因為我是你的家後 your heart, i will always know / because i am your wife

阮將青春嫁置恁兜　阮對少年隨你隨甲老 i gave my youth to you / i followed you from then to now 人情世事已經看透透　有啥人比你卡重要 i've seen all life has to offer / who, other than you, can be more important? 阮的一生獻乎恁兜　才知幸福是吵吵鬧鬧 i gave my life to this house / and learned that happiness is bickering with you 等待返去的時袸若到　你著讓我先走 when it is finally time to go / you must let me go first 因為我會不甘　看你　為我目屎流 because i can't bear to watch you shed a tear

. .

*translation @puddingcatbeans, february 2023.

[theemomarshmallow]

THANK YOU NANA VISITOR!

DID YOU KNOW the deep space nine writers tried to make a kira/dukat romance arc and the only reason we did not have to endure that is because nana visitor heroically put a stop to it by yelling at the producers. everyone say thank you nana visitor

[mcmansionhell]

we've found it folks: mcmansion heaven

Hello everyone. It is my pleasure to bring you the greatest house I have ever seen. The house of a true visionary. A real ad-hocist. A genuine pioneer of fenestration. This house is in Alabama. It was built in 1980 and costs around $5 million. It is worth every penny. Perhaps more.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Come on, Kate, that's a little kooky, but certainly it's not McMansion Heaven. This is very much a house in the earthly realm. Purgatory. McMansion Purgatory." Well, let me now play Beatrice to your Dante, young Pilgrim. Welcome. Welcome, welcome, welcome.

It is rare to find a house that has everything. A house that wills itself into Postmodernism yet remains unable to let go of the kookiest moments of the prior zeitgeist, the Bruce Goffs and Earthships, the commune houses built from car windshields, the seventies moments of psychedelic hippie fracture. It is everything. It has everything. It is theme park, it is High Tech. It is Renaissance (in the San Antonio Riverwalk sense of the word.) It is medieval. It is maybe the greatest pastiche to sucker itself to the side of a mountain, perilously overlooking a large body of water. Look at it. Just look.

The inside is white. This makes it dreamlike, almost benevolent. It is bright because this is McMansion Heaven and Gray is for McMansion Hell. There is an overbearing sheen of 80s optimism. In this house, the credit default swap has not yet been invented, but could be.

It takes a lot for me to drop the cocaine word because I think it's a cheap joke. But there's something about this example that makes it plausible, not in a derogatory way, but in a liberatory one, a sensuous one. Someone created this house to have a particular experience, a particular feeling. It possesses an element of true fantasy, the thematic. Its rooms are not meant to be one cohesive composition, but rather a series of scenes, of vastly different spatial moments, compressed, expanded, bright, close.

And then there's this kitchen for some reason. Or so you think. Everything the interior design tries to hide, namely how unceasingly peculiar the house is, it is not entirely able to because the choices made here remain decadent, indulgent, albeit in a more familiar way.

Rare is it to discover an interior wherein one truly must wear sunglasses. The environment created in service to transparency has to somewhat prevent the elements from penetrating too deep while retaining their desirable qualities. I don't think an architect designed this house. An architect would have had access to specifically engineered products for this purpose. Whoever built this house had certain access to architectural catalogues but not those used in the highest end or most structurally complex projects. The customization here lies in the assemblage of materials and in doing so stretches them to the height of their imaginative capacity. To borrow from Charles Jencks, ad-hoc is a perfect description. It is an architecture of availability and of adventure.

A small interlude. We are outside. There is no rear exterior view of this house because it would be impossible to get one from the scrawny lawn that lies at its depths. This space is intended to serve the same purpose, which is to look upon the house itself as much as gaze from the house to the world beyond.

Living in a city, I often think about exhibitionism. Living in a city is inherently exhibitionist. A house is a permeable visible surface; it is entirely possible that someone will catch a glimpse of me they're not supposed to when I rush to the living room in only a t-shirt to turn out the light before bed. But this is a space that is only exhibitionist in the sense that it is an architecture of exposure, and yet this exposure would not be possible without the protection of the site, of the distance from every other pair of eyes. In this respect, a double freedom is secured. The window intimates the potential of seeing. But no one sees.

At the heart of this house lies a strange mix of concepts. Postmodern classicist columns of the Disney World set. The unpolished edge of the vernacular. There is also an organicist bent to the whole thing, something more Goff than Gaudí, and here we see some of the house's most organic forms, the monolith- or shell-like vanity mixed with the luminous artifice of mirrors and white. A backlit cave, primitive and performative at the same time, which is, in essence, the dialectic of the luxury bathroom.

And yet our McMansion Heaven is still a McMansion. It is still an accumulation of deliberate signifiers of wealth, very much a construction with the secondary purpose of invoking envy, a palatial residence designed without much cohesion. The presence of golf, of wood, of masculine and patriarchal symbolism with an undercurrent of luxury drives that point home. The McMansion can aspire to an art form, but there are still many levels to ascend before one gets to where God's sitting.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[weisscreamcake]

my lesbian aunt (who married into the family) apparently got into it with grandpa because he wouldn’t stop the constant criticisms and he hasn’t spoken to her in days. and i’m just glad that somebody told him to cut that shit out

[dilfdicks]

★ thinking about how moving in with sex addict satoru is simultaneously the best and worst decision you've ever made in your life.

because on one hand you get to spend the quiet parts of life with the man you love. you get to share space with him in a domestic setting, fall asleep with him at night only to wake up to him in the morning. you get good sex as often as you want it, take-out nights and tv marathons that aren't on the table when you don't live together.

but on the other hand, even the simplest of things has satoru bending you over the nearest surface and sinking deep into you. of course when you moved in, he made you cum in every room of the house as a way of christening it—but you didn't expect him to then insist on making you cum on every surface the house has to offer.

you can't buy new furniture without satoru laying you back on top of it and eating you out for an hour minimum.

you can't make dinner without ending up with your face pressed against the countertop as you're split open by his cock.

you have to give up on keeping the bed made, as you never make it more than a few hours before he's throwing you on top of it to fuck you stupid and ruin the fold of the sheets.

you can't shower without his fingers plunging into you under the scalding water.

you can't sit down without satoru insisting his lap is much more comfortable—why not cockwarm him while you're at it?

oh and you think you get a moment of reprieve when he goes away for missions? nope—because after so long of 24/7 access to the best dick you've ever had, you find when he's gone that your fingers just aren't long and learned like his are. your toys don't bite at your neck with each thrust. you can't cuff yourself to the bed. you can't cum without him.

and suddenly you have to come to terms with the fact that you too, are addicted to satoru gojos cock.

[what-strange--options]

A place i’d like to dream about // Full Moon + Halloween alt version

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw, mdni.

simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.

cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).

simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.

you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.

you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.

“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.

he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.

you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.

he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.

he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.

you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.

“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.

he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.

“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.

“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.

he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.

your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.

simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”

[vagueiish]

kind of unfortunate that the only trans support group in my area that isn't geared towards minors seems to be inactive :/