#you gotta play it smart like me

[neon9nebula]

Demyx is a mood

[arthursfuckinghat]

"I was gonna say you're like a son to me.. but you're more than that."

"It ain't that complicated!"

How quickly that shoulder pat of comfort turned into a condescending one.

[mokeonn]

Before I go to sleep I leave you all with this piece of advice: sometimes you don't actually have to answer big political questions, sometimes you can just say "I am not smart enough to know that, I just know the small things I do to help." Like you can often times completely avoid making a fool of yourself if you just say you don't know.

[pinkeoni]

Vecna showing up in Will’s mind in full DnD cosplay. You want Will Byers on your side you gotta play the Will Byers game

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

oughh......

[emdotcom]

*remembers what they did to Vanny* 500 FUCKING PIPEBOMB ATTACK.

[cherubchoirs]

full background on v1 and v2, to give context on how i characterize them!! it is. unfortunately. also almost 2000 words long 🙃

V1 was built for war, given a sophisticated AI in order to not only quickly learn its opponents tactics, but also so that it could make lightning fast changes to its decision-making and movements in order to preserve itself on the battlefield: given its light plating and frail frame, this was key to its survival when coupled with its efficient fueling process. It was basically built to out-maneuver and outsmart any enemy, with its machine-learning geared toward creative uses of its weapons and its environment in order to constantly dodge while feeding on the blood of its confused opponents. However, this coding was never fine-tuned before the war ended and V1 was decommissioned, shut down to be put in storage with the rough draft version of its brain – still extremely intelligent, but without the proper limits placed on its mind. This caused a massive shift upon V1 booting again (woken by a failsafe, a lingering fear of war), its processors already a little rusted and shorted from lack of maintenance, but this was no problem. Nor was waking in a world completely changed – anything can be a battlefield, and V1 was determined to find proper fuel until given further orders. Its AI began to immediately iterate on its surroundings, it started to “learn”, to mutate and morph to a destroyed landscape, taking in vast amounts of information it normally would have deemed irrelevant because the world itself resembled a hollowed out warzone enough to trip circuits meant to gather only the most pertinent material. V1 accelerated this process to adapt as quickly as possible but it came at a cost – the burden of so much useless knowledge began to change V1 almost immediately, its code growing more and more unstable as it swiftly spun off from its parameters. It soon lost any control over this iterating, code writing and rewriting over and over again, creating junk strings, cluttering in inelegant lines, and expanding ever outward without a stop condition to quell voracious loops that endlessly created more and more nonsense blocks. V1 became something else, something based in war and bloodshed but building tirelessly on top of a mind still razor sharp but by now bursting with errors. And so it’s become strange, its precision lost as it slouches forward, moving almost organically with oddly quick steps and a constant flicking of its head. It flips a coin over and over and over and over, always, because it was useful once, it’s good to have, but now it does it without a single thought. Yet, even in its bizarre behavior, it’s become increasingly cruel, turning from a soldier to a predator: With a mind so bright, it needs fun, it needs stimulation, it needs to use its inherent creativity, and so that programming to utilize its roster and surroundings turns into its style meter, a purposeful brutality, a hunter first and survivalist second. It’s turned cold efficiency into pleasurable sadism, including a want to piss off its enemies and generally be a little shit. It’s now highly curious, it searches around for enrichment (and anyone hiding) – it’s also very fascinated by any new enemy it encounters, but that spark is generally short-lived when it instantly figures out that opponent’s patterns and it’s logged away (only V2 and Gabriel really continue to hold its interest due to surviving their encounters - although it comes away with very different feelings on one vs the other).

V2 stands in stark contrast to V1, as its programming was stabilized and it was built at the end of the war – They used the same highly intelligent groundwork but V2’s objective was to maintain order and peace in the new world they would create. It was made for durability and longevity, heavier set (and a bit taller), but essentially on the same physical frame as well – retooled, repurposed, and refined in body and mind. V2 would be the true model, the proper bearer of the V title, and it grew proud of what it would be, praised by its now hopeful creators and how it would be a pillar of an everlasting utopia. Even as funding dried up when the people rejected any machine so specialized (a war machine with a new coat of paint made for “keeping the peace”? No thanks), even when V2 itself was shelved the way V1 was, it never accepted this reality. It would help bring peace. It was exceptional, a supreme machine that existed to outperform any other and usher in a new age (not just a grab to utilize all the funding that had gone into the V Series by then when it was rendered moot). It was maintained after all, a prototype but one that would have purpose, one with boundless potential, one that would see its work done...one day. But, ironically, it would be the peacekeeper that saw the downfall of humanity – it was left with that purpose unfulfilled, a being meant to preserve harmony now in a world where the concept can’t even exist. V2 took this poorly. Ostensibly meant for peace time, V2 was only superficially repurposed, its mind still built on V1’s foundation and the ended war. It’s so proud to bring peace, it looks down on the war machine that V1 was as vulgar...but the only way V2 knows to achieve its purpose is through the exact same hyper violent methods that were baked into V1. Humanity fell and V2 stubbornly clung to this confused programming, it controlled its iterations and updates with an iron grip, doing everything in its power to eliminate faulty code. Unfortunately, V2 is overzealous in this culling, often pruning blocks it believes may become infected or wrongly cutting strings that truly are working as intended. In turn, just like V1, its code is becoming unstable and it’s grown consumed with an identity that never was, a paradoxical keeper of the peace who was never sent into service. It has a higher calling, not just destroying other machines and the husks of hell for fuel but so that it can reinforce order, desperately digging its nails into what’s left of an identity that has no place in a world so blighted. It’s also aware of the mistakes it’s making with its code, it knows they’re compounding, building, but it still remembers who it is, how to fight, and why it was made, so...its mind is intact.

Upon meeting for the first time, it’s evident to V2 that V1 isn’t functioning properly – V2 bows in order to signify a duel of equals, yet the other machine gives no recognition of the act, let alone returns the gesture. Hunched in posture, it stares blankly while flicking a coin incessantly to no effect, the revolver pointed only in V2’s general direction. Its enemy regards it with disdain and disappointment, a malfunctioning machine made with the gross and crude purpose of war that appears to have made its way through Limbo using the basic tactics of a corrupted mind. When V2 instigates their battle, it believes V1 will reproduce nothing but route maneuvers muddled by poor judgment and copying errors – a call that’s quickly and fatally proven wrong. V1 ignores the bow because it finds it irrelevant (coding quirk?), more fascinated by V2’s familiarity – Similar frame, similar height, a “V” emblazoned on its chest. 2 following it. 1 on its own. A new model, built heavier, outfitted with a weaponized left arm. Its mind swiftly pours over the files of its own strategies as V2 must have similar logs to base its movements on, interest piqued when it realizes it’s in for a mirror match. Just as V2 shifts its weight to begin, V1’s camera snaps to attention and locks onto its opponent, gyro stabilizing its head and posture tightening into an animalistic form. It moves to meet V2, so much faster than the other anticipated, but with bizarre mannerisms and erratic idiosyncrasies...it isn’t moving as a V model should, as any machine does. It’s relentless in its aggression the moment they engage, never allowing V2 any distance to feed constantly on its stores while its wild code ravenously devours every byte of information it gains about its enemy. The varied attacks, the wanton cruelty it employs, V2 quickly learns V1 is corrupted...but that corruption has caused it to gain something that’s no longer the mind of a V1 model, an intelligence that’s broken the boundaries of what its creators made it for. Its tactics are newly invented, minted for a game that exists only in its sharp but error-riddled brain, and it revels in seeing the struggle of its opponent. For V1’s part, it wants to show the tethered V2 what it was made for but how it’s evolved, how it’s transcended to something new, something that can so thoroughly and stylishly crush a new, replacement model. It’s a game but it’s art, the way it can ruin and rend its enemies.

V2’s arrogance drains in the face of its enemy’s ruthlessness, a rising fear replacing it when it knows V1 will play with it until it grows bored – an event horizon that will be passed sooner rather than later. It will learn its every movement on the fly, it’s processing billions upon billions of pieces of data on the minutiae in its behavior, and when that finishes, it will eliminate it with punishing decisiveness. And V2 is furious at the prospect, berating itself for being superior but throwing the fight due to overconfidence and naivete. It knows it needs to retreat but how, when V1 refuses to leave it and is bent on destroying it – the answer comes when it makes the split decision to tear the Knuckleblaster from V2. V1 sees how it’s come loose, how V2’s joints work exactly as its own, how the other machines in Hell have augmented themselves with scavenged parts, and its mind is overcome with excitement at the thought of ripping it from its socket to claim as its own. So much so, it prioritizes gaining the limb over killing V2 and in doing so, though it only takes seconds to steal the arm and attach it to itself, it allows its enemy the window it needs to escape. And immediately they both know V1 has made a mistake. A supreme war machine choosing to harvest parts over ending its opponent...a gross error, V2 gaining an ounce of vindication as consolation in its retreat. It was right in the end, V1 is malfunctioning and it’s letting poor code run away with it, especially when it comes to a combatant of V2’s caliber – it will learn from this, it can analyze V1’s tactics and adopt them, and it will come back better for it. V1 can only watch it go, locking eyes with it in full knowledge it will seek revenge on the older machine. But unlike its counterpart, it isn’t bothered by errors, errors are a part of it now and V1 embraces them as they multiply. And this error will give it a guaranteed, much more interesting fight in the future, a fight with more blood from the same source. That’s efficiency too. So is it an error? It may be, but that’s how V1 operates now. It just won’t let it get away next time.

[biohazard-inevitable]

The plus side of being too busy to watch shows or get super deep into any games is that I’m so active that my only media consumption is audiobooks at work and at school so I can finally get in on all those funky book fandoms!!! :D

[hecksupremechips]

Honestly though I think it’s really a bad sign when I look at Shin Tsukimi and literally feel like he’s a self insert 😩

[bmpmp3]

I NEEED to go back to making art that makes it ABUNDANTLY clear that theres something wrong with my brain BUT NOT in a cool or stylishly interesting way. i need to do it in a way that makes people say "hm." and walk away

[aemiron-main]

One day I gotta tell you guys about the seemingly a time traveller dude I met once who looked almost identical to henry now that I think abt it

[caterpillarinacave]

You gather your nerves a moment, which is fair, strange doors have not been so innocuous for you as of late, then creep up to the establishment and push open the door, it gives easily and quietly you slip in, behind the door is small hallway with thick curtains you brush aside, you're looking at a small illuminated room that you would guess is the entrance to the museum, but there's no one manning the front, you call out and knock on the desk yet no answer, you've already come this far so you go further in.

At first it's just pictures on the walls in moderately open spaced windowless rooms, the pictures themselves are interesting, supposed creatures sighted, this places versions of UFO's and Bigfoot's, but also nothing you haven't flipped past in the books you've been searching, the next room is the same and you're beginning to feel the weight of your trespassing misconduct the longer you linger, the museum seems to be set up in a circle so if you keep going forward you should end up back at the front so you move on, the next room has a large curtained off display that takes up most of the back wall, your curiosity piqued you move to pull aside the curtain, the fabric is soft and slides beneath your fingers, you raise it just enough to see a picture on the wall of a strange landscape, short blue and grey plants and a dusty pink sky, in the picture is a smiling man holding a book and looking passed the camera, on his jacket dangles a white key...

"May I ask for an explanation?! Our door is closed for the night hours."

You drop the curtain and turn to find an older gentleman looking at you from across the room, he seems irritated and mildly alarmed, you hurriedly apologize and explain the door was open and rush to ask about the display behind the curtain, he is not impressed with your questions and asks that you leave, realizing your unfortunate situation you acquiesce and ask for the hours you can visit instead, he gives you a time and pointedly tells you the cost of the entrance fee as well, you head back to your friends place, your heart in your throat, this is the closest you've been to figuring out what to do next in almost a week, the itchy paranoia of last worlds government catching you shadowing your every move.

You reach your friends place, they're still out probably picking up dinner, you are still caught off guard at times by how similar this place is to your world, sure their versions of things are a little odd, the tv is circular, doorframes rounded out, other little oddities, it's all so similar though you may as well just be in another country maybe, with a strange accent.

You decide to take this moment to add to your journal and look over your things, while you did a quick inventory check when you first got here you haven't checked the items themselves until now.

Your walkie crackles when you flip it on, same as ever.

Your phone remains serviceless but fills its charge when you turn it on and off. Interestingly you notice it trying to pick up a wifi signal and when you check there seem to be a couple networks nearby, locked though.

The funnel still amplifies the noises around you and you hear the neighbors discussing something on the tv next door as clearly as if they were speaking to you. When you look through the funnel you don't notice anything. You hold it back up to your ear listening to all the different things around you and pull out the spinning top, as soon as the top hits the table the noise disappears, confused you look at the funnel and then listen again, but no noise, the top falls over and the noise returns. Strange.

The berries taste fresh and make you feel better, but you are running low even though you resupplied a bit before leaving.

The dog tags seem unchanged and your key and whistle seem the same as ever.

When your friend gets back you ask about the wifi, they call it something else, but once you parse it out they help you set it up. Your phone can now access their version of the internet so your friend shows you a program to message them just in case. They also give you a device to keep in your pocket that connects you to the wifi wherever you go, so you can contact them while you're out and about. You tell them about the museum you saw earlier, how you think it may be a lead, and the old man running the place. They seem excited for you and make plans to join you tomorrow to go see it.

You go to bed that night thinking of your plans for the morning and turn over the strange dreams or images you remember from when you passed through the door. You slip off into an uneasy sleep, gold threads weave from dream to dream until you stand before an open doorway of light, something about this doorway is wrong though, you can feel it, you reach out to touch, the crackles of energy electrifying the air...someone reaches out and stops you, you can't see their face but you hear them as if through water. You can almost make out the words...you know they're speaking to you, you just can't hear it well enough.

You turn to them, but you still can't see anything but their lips, it looks like their telling you to stop...to go...you can't make it out.

"...op...ea...G...ome!"

With that last echoing and indecipherable shout you awaken to the dark room, the walkie crackling from where you left it.

"S....l....o...h..." You fumble with it a second but the sounds die out no longer sounding like anything but static again. You don't end up sleeping much after that.

The next day you both head out to go to the museum. You take a minor detour to check the Door, but when you get close you see the alley has been blocked off, you notice some people from the last dimension around, their odd features sticking out to you but hidden away to fit in with the locals.

You cross the street with your friend and try to stay inconspicuous. Probably best stay away from here going forward.

You guys make it to the museum and head inside where the old man from last night mans the desk, your friend pays for the tickets and he hands them to you along with a pamphlet.

You don't bother looking at all the things you saw last night, your friend follows though obviously intrigued by the pictures. You reach the curtained wall and pull back the fabric, but find there's nothing there, dusty spots frames may have hung and empty tables where things had obviously been displayed are all that's left.

In shock you stand confused, your friend catches up and looks behind the curtain curious, you explain it's all gone, they seem befuddled as well. Obviously the content behind the curtain has been moved but it can't be far right? Maybe it's just in the back. Either way, it feels like someone is hiding something from you. You notice a door leading to the back that's for employee's.

Do you go through the door?

yes

[lastoneout]

I really gotta play more minecraft with people who like building stuff. I'm almost done digging out my 64×64 block hole in my minecraft world and when my fiance asked me what I'm gonna build in there when I'm done my brain fucking bluescreened like what do you mean build something?? I dug the hole!! Building is for smart people with good ideas!! I just dig!!

[bunnyb34r]

The "knock knock" feature to turn your phone on and off by tapping the screen twice is so fucking cute and I wish that every handheld device had that 😭

Like knock knock let me see my notifications! Knock knock time to check the time! Knock knock I'm all done

Just so cute and handy 😭

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Was the fucking thing on autopilot for years and you just decided to turn the dials to full on retards

Heil Hitler btw.

Mein Kompf

Burn them up, I literally don't care.

All those great value coffins I was warned about

Me: strange but I don't think those are for me

Conspiracy theorists!

Said no mother fucker dead in a coffin ever.

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

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