#and seems like a good way to see if i can handle writing something larger and more intensive

[dead-lights]

spooky bakers

so i've been stress-watching a bunch of baking shows and this happened. i also built a competition kitchen. and wrote an episode. and rigged the competition. also i baked a fuckton of cupcakes irl because i'm a good person. lmao what am i doing.

#inna cents #morgyn ember #elle devampiro #jacob volkov #wolfgang wilder #emilia ernest #darrel charm #brandy wood #i'm working on something more narrative but am struggling #something silly and formulaic like a baking competition is way easier #and seems like a good way to see if i can handle writing something larger and more intensive #and to cope with writers block tbh #so i'm doing an occult baking competition instead #GOBC

[irregulardongyoung]

Price’s Hot Spouse

Alex truly do look similar to Price.

Warning : dubcon, afab, unprotected sex, & implied cuckold.

Note : Part 2? +I EDITED IT! Sorry, i forgot what the nb word for Mr/Mrs while writing this😭

If anyone say that Alex is his son, i would’ve believe them. No question whatsoever.

But imagine this: reader is Price’s spouse who’s close with his colleagues and team. The TF members likes to come over, along with his trusted allies for a peaceful dinner at his house.

One night while the rest of the team were drinking away and sharing story, his spouse goes upstairs to rest for the night.

Since it’s already night time, you didn’t bother using the big light, only using the one on the nightstand. You were just finished showering and was about to slip on your night garment but felt a pair of hands hugging you from behind.

Based on the size of the hands and the similar body shape, you just assume it’s your husband and let him cope a feel.

“Don’t be too rough, love.” You warned him while holding back a moan from his hands that are massaging your breast.

Impatiently, he put on a blindfold over your eyes and you were a bit confused. John always says that he wants you to always look at him while making love. He said it turn him on when he see how hard you’re trying to keep your eyes on him with every thrust.

But at the same time, John is always the adventurous one, always suggesting new ways to spice up their love making. So, you figure it’s one of those nights.

You let him take the lead as he man handle you as he pleases. His move is a bit sloppy and clumsy, like he’s testing the water, but he is still gentle, something that your husband pride himself when it comes to you.

“Don’t tease me, John...” you groan impatiently. You felt him kissing you and stripping your towel in one harsh movement before putting your back on the mattress.

When your head meets the pillow, you hear rustling of clothes, meaning he is stripping down. Then his hand immediately latch onto your skin, as if he’ll die without skin contact.

You felt his cock twitching on your thigh with every noise that you let out. His fingers comfortably playing with your clit. Trying to open you up and prep you, but mostly because of his own needs.

After making you cum once with his fingers, he need to taste you. NEED IT. So he held your legs apart as he eat your pussy like a starve man. The sensitivity of just cumming and the warm feeling of his mouth just made you shudder in pleasure as you cum one more time, now on his mouth.

“Good girl.” He praised you as he lick your juice from his lips. His voice is different from your husband but you were too far gone to notice. You’re enjoying it, he can tell.

“‘M gonna take care of ya.” He murmur as he line his dick. Slowly he push his dick in and kissing your collarbone while waiting for your signal to move.

In your dazed mind, you do felt the difference of penis. For one, your husband’s dick is larger, fat, and veiny. Like an angry bull when it’s fully erect. But this man’s dick is leaning into large in length instead of width, although it’s still veiny.

“‘m wanna move...” he whined on your shoulder. Your thought doesn’t go very far since his dick keep twitching inside your walls. He can’t help it! It’s too warm, too comfortable, but also tight. He wanna feel more!

On instinct, you tap his shoulder twice, a code that only your husband knows, that means you’re ready.

It seems the man also knew this code and he start moving in and out of you cunt. Is he your husband then? You can’t think properly like this!

“Mmfh! S-slow down!” You moaned out. Instead of slowing down, he just goes even more feral. “Feels so good...! I’m sorry, i can’t slow down! I’ll make it up to you. I promise!” He stutter out his sentences as his move began going rapid but still on rhythm.

“Jo-“ His mouth catch yours, just as you were about to moan your husband’s name. His kiss is filled with needy lust and happiness. As if he’s been waiting for this for a long time.

You grab his arm and direct him to touch your clit since you want to cum too. And he immediately picks up on it as he begin teasing your clit while still moving his hips and kissing your lips.

His movement began going sloppy when he felt you clamping down on him. “F-fuck!” He moan into your mouth. “Wanna cum...” you whined.

He kiss your cheeks and lick the tears that escape the blindfold from your cheeks. “‘m gonna fill ya, yeah?” He mumbled.

You nods, waiting for the permission to release while your hands are on his shoulders, trying to find stability. Although he quickly reposition the two of you in a mating press, your hand are now on either side of your head as you held onto the sheets and legs are thrown onto his shoulders.

His movement goes bold but still sloppy before he squeezed your waist twice, a code that only your husband knows, that means to cum now.

He pour his seeds deep inside you at the same time as you cum all over his dick.

Both of you are sweating and out of breath but still keeping the position because he still want to feel you close. But he knows he need to lay you down, so he did with gentleness.

He pull out his dick and lay your legs on the mattress, giving it a squeeze of ‘well done’ before his hand went up to caress your still blindfolded face.

“I love you. God, i’ve been in love with you since the day Captain Price introduce his spouse.” His words made your heart skip a beat, and it’s not out of flattery but out of panic.

HE’S NOT YOUR HUSBAND???!!!

He took off the blindfold and kiss you lips quickly while you are still adjusting to the light. A few seconds passed by and you now can see the man in front of you.

You pushed him off of you as strong as you could, which is not a lot in the first place but even more after cumming three times. Regardless, he relented and moves away from your embrace, although not without a pout.

“ALEX?!” You could not believe that you just fucked your husband’s coworker!

“That’s a good show, love.” A familiar voice praise you. You glance to the side to find your husband smiling on the chair with his dick out and cum all over his hand.

“John?” You called for him. But your vision is immediately being violated by harsh light, as somone turn on the bedroom light.

After a few seconds, you regain your sight and saw John’s team and their allies in your marital bedroom. Their eyes are filled with lust and want. The buldge on their pants are noticeable but they seems to be more interested in you.

“John? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, love. Should’ve told you beforehand, but the boys agreed on telling you themselves.” He apologized.

“Told me what?” You began asking nervously as the guys start smiling, even Simon from behind his mask.

“On sharing you, Mx. Price. We love you so much, we can’t handle not being yours anymore.” Alex kissed your open palm.

Your eyes widen and heart beating uncontrollably. You loves John, that’s for sure. But the others? You never even look at them more than just your husband’s coworkers.

“Don’t hurt your pretty head. We’re gonna make you love us, yeah?” Johnny approach the bed and start kissing your shoulder while caressing your arm.

John smile at you. “They’re good boys, love. Give ‘em a chance, will you? If you still doesn’t feel anything, we can just make it into strictly sexual or even stop it all together.” He assure you. “I just want my spouse to be worship like what they’re suppose to.”

“Can i be your second husband?” Phillip cheekily asked.

“That position is mine.” Alex retort.

“I’m fine with third.” Kyle interjected.

“Let’s start with boyfriends first.” Simon cut their chatters.

Alex, Johnny, Simon, Kyle, Phillip, Nikolai, Gary, Alejandro, Rudy, Sandman, and Frost. Knowing your husband, you might have to assume there’s more than them.

With a sigh, you smile at John and the boys.

“Anything for you, John.”

#darlingssaturn ‘s writing #alex keller smut #alex keller x reader #alex keller x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price x you #call of duty x reader #price x reader #john price smut #cod mw x reader #cod x reader #cod smut #call of duty smut #afab reader

[i-loved-silly]

Can you write a yandere piece on a yandere guardian angel?

Been looking for some good non fandom specific x reader blogs, happy to see a new one kicking around with a cool example written already :)

AUUUU I LOVE NONFANDOM ANGELS!! Thanks anon, for being my first request

Yan! Guardian angel who was supposed to be specifically made for you, to keep you from harm, gently warn you but absolutely NOT reveal themselves to you.

You were at the lowest point of your life, so the universe did its thing and assigned you a guardian angel to guide you! You werent their first human, they were experienced and always got the job done successfully.

But…strangely enough upon being assigned to you they just..felt different. Guardian angels weren’t supposed to connect with their humans, they weren’t supposed to feel anything at all.

While not a connection, it was still something that morphed into sinister obsession. How is a guardian angel supposed to know how to love like a human?

At first they wanted the best for you. Guiding you without making themselves obvious, breaking the rules just a tiny bit for you and hover next to you while you slept. You seemed so delicate, no one understood you the way they did. They knew everything about you afterall. They were always watching, wasn’t that heartwarming?

Occasionally you’d feel warm gusts of air either pass by you or barely caress your skin. They thought it was cute how you would look all around you trying to figure out the source.

Imagine having such a possessive but caring guardian angel that they even ‘kept you safe’ spiritually. They didn’t let any evil energy get to you, hell, not even the good energy. With them you had enough, you didn’t need any other spirits around you!

You didn’t even need humans around you. Over time they got more bold, appearing to you out of the corner of your eye as a bright light. Things started looking up, their job was almost complete. But oh no, they couldn’t lose you. They plotted out little…inconveniences so you could keep coming back to them.

You started to doubt that you even have a guardian angel, why is everything going so wrong? They’re so distraught at this, why can’t you tell that they’re doing this for you? But they can’t handle this, in their eyes, this is rejection. Despite going against all their rules and probably one of the more serious offenses, they must appear to you. If they don’t, you might stop believing in them and they can’t have that. Or worse, you might hate them.

While they prefer to send discreet messages to their humans in their sleep, you were the exception. You were having a particularly bad day and crying in your bed, hugging your covers and sniffling. Appearing took a lot of energy, but anything for you. They didn’t like seeing you sad.

Slowly, you began to feel warmth emitting next to you. You didn’t bother turning around at first, but then this sensation slowly began to prick at your skin. This light was burning hot. You rubbed the back of your neck before turning around, you flinched when a larger but dainty hand held you still by your shoulders, stopping you from turning around. It was glowing a bright yellow, slightly stinging your eyes if you looked too long. You froze, eyes wide and your tears dry at this point.

“Whu-who are you?” Your voice trembled as your eyes tried to peak at the perpetrator. All you saw was a radiant light behind you and that scorching heat traveling from your neck to your shoulder.

“Your savior, darling. You have no idea how much I’ve held back from being here with you. But I’m willing to break my rules for you.” They mused, their voice coming from straight behind you but booming all around the room like an orchestra in a theater.

You felt tears prick your eyes, you struggled against their grip. “What are you talking about? Y-you’re hurting me.”

The guardian angel wasn’t aware of their strength.

But they were aware of the lengths they’d go to spend longer time with you. Their hand rubbed your shoulder reassuringly as they let out a “sh sh sh” that sounded more like a hiss rather than a hush.

“You’re safe, my angel. Do not fret. Do you believe your savior is here with you now? Or shall I visit you more often?” At this point they were talking to themselves as some seemed to twirl your hair distracted.

You winced as a hot hand brushed against your cheek. “I’ll need to see you more often, you need me to care for you afterall. Sleep well, my adoration.”

#oc x reader #yandere blog #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x darling #yanblr #yancore #yandere #yandere scenarios #angel x reader #yandere angel #gender neutral yandere #gender neutral reader #gn reader #obsessive love

[cerastes]

I've seen people before saying that, in terms of presentation, NIKKE delivers it better than Arknights in telling what they want to tell. And I still see this occasionally whenever people start comparing stories in gacha games. Looking at your post, seems like that wasn't a lie at all.

Right, this is an interesting topic for me, so let me give my two cents on this.

I would say that statement is generally true. Nikke's main strengths are its presentation and knowing how to leverage its strengths in general, but let's focus on presentation: It's story is nothing to write home to (note that I am up to Chapter 18), neither are its events (on this regard, take me lightly, I've only read three), but what Nikke wants to say, you will very clearly understand. It's good at telling its story. Sometimes the localization will have Localization Moments (Chatterbox is described as female in the first cutscene he is mentioned, male every time afterwards; there's a lot of clearly literally translated little expressions that make no sense in the flow of the conversations), but overall, even though you're looking at a story that in a lot of ways you've seen a lot of times, its particularities stand out because Nikke tells them properly, concisely, and clearly. Characterization is consistent, and there's a good amount of care clearly put into both consistency and overarching important parts of the narrative; a favorite example of mine is how, in the tutorial, if you pay close attention, you can actually see Marian's eyes glow red during her reload animation, foreshadowing something pretty important that happens with her later.

So even if the story beats are not particularly good or intriguing -- and sometimes, outright terrible, like in Chapter 18 oh god I hate Chapter 18 -- you at least can tell with clarity what's going on and why it's going on.

Arknights has the yang to the yin here, somewhat: The stories on Arknights tend to range from okay to great, and AK events have a habit of going pretty damn hard, either as a whole or at least parts of them. Sometimes, however, they have a weakness, and this weakness is that the actual story telling can be dense. Density is often attributed to good writing, but the truth is, sometimes, the text isn't advanced, it's simply clumsy, and the prose in Arknights is decidedly clumsy. But when you actually untangle the spaghetti of clumsy prose, you find some strong story telling, strong characterization, and topics you don't often find discussed in video games, less so in gacha. You kinda have to work for it, basically.

Something Nikke does good is also that it keeps its relevant cast at any given story beat low, giving it more cohesion, or rather, making it easy to stay cohesive, because Arknights can handle larger casts pretty well sometimes, but I'll be frank, the current main story has so many literal whos to keep track of that I'm supposed to be invested in that I don't really bother. I'm sorry, but I can't really feel a damn thing about Outcast when she showed up for a few scenes and then got nuked off by a contrivance while fighting some faceless nobodies we are told we should fear.

But on the other hand, Nikke narrative, again, despite its strong delivery, is still built on a feeble base for the most part. I only think of a few characters I care about in Nikke, because a lot of the cast is just fluff and Obligatory Archetypes (bunny girls, school girls, maids, etc), whereas in Arknights, I care about a whole damn lot of them, even those without events, because their files and modules paint a very integral and intriguing picture of them. Even smaller scenes in Arknights sometimes can have a big emotional impact, due to its extensive and well crafted worldbuilding and its clever use of its elements in every event, something Nikke cannot claim, because worldbuilding in Nikke is almost non existent.

They both have their strengths, basically, and it's fascinating to me, a writer, to take a deeper look at them.

#arknights #nikke

[randomly--accessed--memories]

I wrote something!

Of course it's gender swap stuff that gets me to actually write– that's what happened in my last fandom, here it is, happening again. I do have an idea for a mainverse scene that I'd like to write too though, and now I'm over the hump with this, hopefully that'll be easier to start!

Word count: 733. God, writing fiction is slower than writing normally.

-

“Alice!”

“Yes, Vox?” Alice replied airily, turning her attention away from her microphone, which she had been polishing oh so diligently, and turning it toward the sound of hurried, oncoming footsteps.

She turned in her seat and was met with a flash of blue and red as Vox practically skidded to a halt before her.

“How do you like it? I think it’s pretty. Niffty made it for me— I’ve never met a man who’s such a dab hand with a needle and thread, I swear! He’s so- but I wanted to see how you liked it. I think it’s pretty, but we can change it if you think-” Goodness, she talked a lot now.

Tuning out Vox’s inane babble, Alice flicked her eyes across the new outfit that seemed to be the cause of all this excitement. A red, sleeveless button-down blouse and one of those silly, wide skirts that were in style during Vox’s time on Earth, patterned with cyan lightning bolts on top of plain, navy blue.

Far simpler than Vox’s old style. She’d always had a taste for glamor, for ostentation. Even when she’d been a young sinner without the money necessary for the silken gloves and wide-brimmed hats she favored as an overlord, Alice recalled her trying her best to at least give the facade of wealth and glamor. What a vain creature she was— or rather, had been.

The new outfit was almost girlish in its simplicity. Not practical for the handyman (handywoman?) job Alice had assigned her, but Alice highly doubted that all the brainwashing conditioning in the world could convince Vox to wear dungarees.

Alice was vaguely considering telling Vox to return to Niffty and request the outfit in black and white— the colors she had favored back when she had been safely under Alice’s wing— when her eyes fell upon the large, white rectangle that rested over Vox’s left breast.

It was a name tag. Similar to Charlie’s, in a way, but much larger, with the name “VOX” emblazoned upon it in what Alice could only assume was Vox’s own handwriting.

Oh.

The poor thing couldn’t remember her own name, so she needed a label across her chest to keep her from forgetting.

“It’s lovely, dear.” Alice said abruptly, cutting across Vox’s endless chatter— goodness, what was she going on about now? Tap-dancing?

Vox’s face lit up— literally, as her screen’s brightness appeared to jump several settings— her eyes shining with that adorable, slavish, mindlessadoration that Alice had grown so fond of these past few days. She began babbling again, even faster than before, and gave a little twirl— presumably to show off the skirt— that sent sparks flying. If one of those sparks triggered yet another electrical fire, Alice would not be taking responsibility.

“It’s only missing one last thing.” Vox froze, eyes wide; she never could handle “rejection” well. Alice smiled indulgently and extended a finger, beckoning Vox forward, then pointing down to the space beside her chair. Without hesitation, Vox hurried to the foot of Alice’s seat— the foot! Oh, this was rich— sinking down into a kneeling position at her side.

Smiling fondly, Alice delicately undid the red-and-black striped ribbon that hung at her collar. For a moment, she considered tying it around Vox’s neck (the neck whose wires she’d oh so tenderly severed one at a time all those years ago), but instead chose one of her antennas (the one she had bent in a dozen different places during the process of creating the New Vox).Vox let out a small, sharp gasp as Alice tightened the ribbon around the metal rod— those things were somewhat akin to exposed nerves, to Alice’s understanding; what a silly weakness— her facial display flickering out for a moment before reappearing with a wide-eyed, anticipatory expression.

“There. Now you look perfect.”

Once again, Vox’s face split into that same, worshipful grin from the last time Alice had complimented her. Two gifts— the new, old head and now something to wear on it— in as many days; Alice truly was in a generous mood this week.

“Thank you, Allie, thank you so, so much.”

What a sweet creature she had become.

For a moment, Alice’s eyes flicked away from Vox’s adoring face and towards the hotel bar. She met Husk’s stoney gaze, who immediately looked away, pretending not to have been watching this interaction. Alice’s eyes returned to Vox, and she smiled indulgently down at her lovely little creation.

“You’re welcome, doll.”

#vox (ram) #alastor (ram) #randomly accessed memories #art and writing #neutral #light #long posts

[adizzyninja]

I think the larger point being overlooked in all the Fallout Prime VS New Vegas Canon controversy is less who's in charge of canon and the future of the franchise and more just the general potential for stories being kinda squandered with some of these decisions.

(As a disclaimer I really liked the Fallout show!! Really solid mysteries and reveals and just overall presentation. Just criticizing a bit how it handled the wider lore)

So like, Bethesda's lore is completely separate from the 1,2 and NV stories, in my head. They can reference the past stuff as much as they want but it doesn't change the fact that the writing teams are comprised of different people working from fundamentally different mindsets. That's totally cool! They can create their own spin on the canon and go whatever direction they want with it. The Interplay/ Obsidian stories will always be there and there's nothing that can change that.

All that being said though, I feel like there's another perspective to look at some of the wider lore choices the show makes through: wasteful. The show writers had an incredible springboard of interacting factions and pre-established lore to work with. And it seems like all they really did with it is blow it up. Maybe season 2 will turn things around and it turns out New Vegas is actually fine, but it doesn't change the fact the NCR has been effectively wiped out.

I've always felt that getting too liberal with death and destruction in a story is a good way to quickly make a world feel a lot smaller. It can be done well, and to its credit the show does seem to have made the nuking of Shady Sands a fairly integral part of its plot/ themes. But I don't feel like the narrative mileage they'll get out of that could compare to just... having a massive faction like the NCR present! Not to mention how much fun could be had with a functioning New Vegas, or an even vaguely acknowledged Legion for that matter!

Idk, riding NV's coattails too hard would easily come off as cheap, but at the same time I can't help but wonder why they even bothered setting it in California if they were just going to wipe away pretty much all the established stuff that made it interesting! There's a *massive* middle chunk of America that's untouched in the lore! I just don't really see the point of basically arguing with what exists instead of just focusing on whats missing and making something new with it.

#good fucking lord this show is good at squeezing thoughts out of me #I didn't even know Fallout still had a vice grip like this on my mind lmao #hopefully this came across as coherent cuz I haven't written essays like this since uni lol #fallout #fallout 3 #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #fnv #dizzying

[snakebites-and-ink]

Working Normally

I’m feeling ready to try my hand at posting whump series made of several chapters! I’m starting with one of the probably less-ambitious of my planned multi-part WIPs so I can smoothly ease myself into writing longer series.

Meet Asher, a pet who (with his master’s permission) holds a job as an IT guy. Set in the box boy universe.

The current plan is for me to post a new chapter about every two weeks, but whether I’m able to maintain this will be dependent on how much of a writing stockpile I can create during winter break ^^'

Chapter 2

CW: BBU, pet whump, dehumanization

“Did you try powering it off and turning it back on?

That was a question Asher always had to ask. At least half the time that was all it took to fix something, yet surprisingly few people tried it before calling for him.

“Do I look stupid to you?” The man asked.

Asher swallowed back a sigh. “Of course not. I just have to ask so I know what you’ve already tried.”

The answer seemed to mollify the man. “Yeah, I turned it off and back on. It’s still broken.”

Asher nodded and sat in front of the computer. “I’ll see what I can do.”

It was often a delicate balance, fixing people’s issues without offending them. Most people didn’t like the idea of a pet knowing better than them—at least when it came to anything beyond trained positions and how to beg nicely. Even when they had a totally different area of expertise than him.

Asher, at least, was good enough at staying polite and respectful that he could usually keep them appeased. Sometimes people were completely happy with him the whole time. More often, there was a subtle tension as they decided whether they thought he was being too presumptuous or not, which he was usually able to defuse with deference.

There was occasionally also a case where someone decided to escalate things, which could become quite unpleasant for Asher. As a pet, he simply wasn’t entitled to the same rights or the same basic decency as a human being. And if he fought back, he would face much larger consequences than they would. At least they couldn’t physically hurt him, though, without having to face his master’s wrath for damaging his property. Asher’s punishments were his master’s alone to dish out.

After spending a while troubleshooting, Asher was able to get the computer working normally again. The guy said “thank you,” which was more than some people did when Asher solved their problem. Asher responded with the obligatory “You’re welcome,” in the friendly voice that said he was always happy to help, and bade the man have a nice afternoon.

Only when he was in the hallway, out of earshot, did Asher let out a sigh. Being a pet who had a place in the world of people had its perks, but ease certainly wasn’t one of them. His collar marked him out as different, lesser even, and once someone saw that, he was treated as such. And being a pet did make him different in some ways, but it didn’t make him as far beneath everyone as most people seemed to think. Others cared less about what he was actually capable of than about the role they thought he ought to fill.

At least his owner was more open-minded. Asher didn’t know how he would have handled it if he’d ended up with someone who wasn’t willing to give him any amount of power over his own life. Asher was glad he belonged to someone who allowed him a fair level of independence, even if that did come with its difficulties.

#pet whump #box boy universe #BBU #whump #whump writing #original fic #writing #fiction #oc #my writing #my posts #Asher #Asher series

[skylermadness]

Clouded Judgement (Vander TF/MC)

(Original Date of Upload: July 27, 2023)

Original Description:

I watched Arcane for the first time last week. Probably one of my favorite experiences in regards to media watching! So much happens in that show and it's just so satisfying to watch from so many angles, it's just hard to articulate perfectly how good it is. Inevitably this also meant Vander would become a mood for me. Big hairy dad with an Australian accent, that's basically the best bait one could have for me. Also meant that during my high of Arcane fixation I had to write a TF as soon as possible. Also helps that Furii threw in some interesting ideas I wanted to try and write out! Admittedly this is a TF that involves a first time for a lot of things in regards to my writing. Lots of moving parts in the TF segment and I believe this is my first time in full having some kind of gaseous trigger. Unfortunately I think I ran out of ideas as to how to really handle the concept towards the end, since I realize I actually wasn't fully sure how I wanted to do the MC and what I wanted to do for the actual post-TF segment. So in the end I do feel like the mental aspects fall a bit short and things definitely fizzle out towards the end. I feel like I could've done better with the final scenes but in the end this story was written with no outline and very little direction. Plus I can always revisit it later and fix it. But for the time being I'm at least 90% satisfied with the end result enough to share it out. Plus I am relatively proud of the TF segment itself. Anyway, watch Arcane.

   Flames. Smoke. Oranges and grays… light was shrouded behind the thickening smoke.

   That's all his hazy, blurry vision can see. He can't even tell if he's looking up, down, or to the sides. Is something overhead? And… wasn't he supposed to be doing something… 

   There is a certain level of pain coursing through him as well. Multiple sharp pierces in his back like shards of glass had embedded into his skin. His spine felt bent, and his nervous system felt like it was in a numb overdrive. An even sharper, stronger pain was in his abdomen; stabbing into his gut and radiating the pain throughout the region. All the while he could feel more spots of suffering around his face than he could count. Then there was the setting in of fatigue, a feeling akin to getting off some kind of adrenaline rush.

   The smell of smoke mixed with the smell of his own blood. He could taste his blood too, and he could swear some more of it was crawling its way both up and down his throat.

   Where was he? Who was he? What was he doing?

   A sense of urgency panged in his chest. Like he had to do something. He had to move faster, he had to…

   A finger twitched, he moved his arm closer to something. He could detect something cylindrical near his hand. He had to grab it, it was his only chance.

   A low grunt emanated from his throat as he swallowed a lump of fluid. Pain, urgency, danger. Pain, urgency, danger. The same three feelings circling through his mind, his body, his everything. 

   His finger grazed metal and glass. Something seems to enter him from there. Some kind of final rush that starts his heart back up again. The hand grasped onto the cylinder and the man almost instantly pulled it towards his mouth. He wasn't sure when or how he had opened it, but all the movements were so fast that it felt like he had instantly started consuming whatever fluid was in the object.

   He wanted to regurgitate it. The taste was atrocious, the feeling of it oozing down his throat was repulsive.

   But it all passed as in an instant everything in his body ran into overdrive.

   His heart beat faster, faster, faster, the rate was getting inhuman. He could feel his muscles cramping, bulging outwards, a chorus of rips piercing from his shirt as his body was forced larger and larger. Breathing deepened, low and dying becoming rampant and growling. Monstrous.

   A purple glow rushed through his veins, running higher and higher up his body before it reached his face. The last sound he heard is metal and glass crunching in his hand as his eyes were forced open.

   His eyes were forced open…

   His eyes were…

   …forced open.

   Ashton groaned, body leaning forward in his bus seat while he rubbed his head. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to dispel the grogginess in them while taking in just where he was. Window beside him, sparse amounts of people in seats in front and behind him. Bus, evening, getting home from work…

   He sighed. "Shit, I missed my stop didn't I…"

   Eyes trailed upwards to look at the street display board, an act which only reaffirmed that statement. He was roughly seven or eight stops behind where he was supposed to get off to get home. Disappointed, he pulls the cord on the wall beside him which causes a soft ding to play out before an automated voice says, "Stop requested!"

   He then hauled up the satchel that sat beside him and stood up, walking his way towards the front of the bus so he could get off. All the while he had two thoughts in his mind. The first thought was that of plans to try to get home in a timely manner. Bus lines were rotating around his mind as he tried to come to some kind of conclusion as to what to take and where. 

   The other thought was of that dream he just awoke from. Of the visceral, realistic feelings it spurred. Of the strangeness of it. Of the meaning behind it. Why did he get it? What did it signify? Why did it feel so real? He could still smell the smoke. Taste the blood.

   "It's not real…" he muttered to himself as he turned to walk off the now stopped bus.

   The sky was a mix of a calming blue and burning orange, Ashton flinching slightly as it entered his peripherals. He chose to ignore it though, preferring to get a good look at the surroundings of this bus stop. The street was noticeably divided. One set of towering buildings and streets was on the side Ashton was on; meanwhile the opposing side had a different set, only reachable if you tried to hop into the rounded drainage ditch that cleaved the area in half. Or you could just walk over the bridge that was off to the side.

   He hummed to himself. He'd have to cross the bridge in order to reach the bus stop that would allow him to ride in the opposing direction back home, but that would be annoying since the stops in that direction are different from the stops going forward. He could also try to just walk home since he was only six or seven stops off, but the city's above ground infrastructure was annoying to traverse to say the least.

   He eyed the ends of the street for a few seconds, then crossed it to reach the sidewalk on the other side. It was evidently railed off thanks to the existence of the drainage ditch, but that didn't stop him from casually leaning over the railing to look into it. With the exception of a pitifully miniscule stream of water in the middle of it, the ditch was effectively void of liquid. His eyes trailed towards the two massive holes that were beneath the bridge nearby, the man casually thinking about how the sewer system the ditch drained into was barren as well.

   Come to think of it, there was a similar ditch near his apartment.

   Ashton's eyes widened as an idea formed in his head that instance. The city's sewer system likely wasn't the most convoluted network. It would probably be a simple walk in, take a right turn, walk out. The biggest problem would probably be the lighting, but…

   He fished his phone out of his back pocket. Twenty five percent. It was probably not enough for a sewer trek, but he assured himself he'd only be in there for ten minutes. It'd be fine… 

   …

   His reassurances didn't really work and he could tell this was a risky idea. But sometimes your city's infrastructure makes roaming around the sewer sound more appealing than actually walking around the surface.

   He idly thought to himself 'What's the worst that'd happen?' as he jumped the railing and slid into the drainage ditch. Even then he was only mildly confident in this idea as a whole…

                                        ----------------------------------------------------------

   Ten percent.

   If Ashton's presumptions were correct he might've been down here for thirty minutes. He could've sworn he wasn't lost, especially since he only took a single right turn towards what he would presume to be the drainage system closest to his apartment. And yet he felt like he was walking down the exact same tunnel for ages.

   The tunnel also looked nothing like he would have presumed one to look. It was just a concrete cylinder with a few pipes lining the sides and ceilings. Every so often he'd find himself walking past a large grated opening, although he wasn't sure if it was the same pipe every time or just a different one on the exact same side. At the very least this place wasn't completely flooded…

   His steps continued to echo through the tunnel as he walked. His shoes have garnered a substantial amount of grime as they stepped in the extremely small stream that endlessly trailed down the pipe. And evidently the only source of light he had was from his phone. At the very least nothing could come up from in front of him, especially with the intense luminescence of his flashlight.

   Nine percent.

   "Perhaps it's not too late to walk back," he grumbled to himself. Now he was realizing just how stupid an idea this was. He probably would be home by now had he not taken this 'shortcut'. "Stupid, stupid, stupid-"

   His annoyed sighs echo through the tunnel as well. At least the smell wasn't as repugnant as he would have expected, but it was still pretty terrible. And he was still alone. Just him, the dark, and his thoughts. He then stopped for a moment to lean onto the rounded concrete wall of the tunnel. Walking for so long non-stop was doing a number on his legs. 

   He considered just calling an emergency service before his phone could have the chance to conk out. It would be embarrassing to have to explain that he got himself lost in the city's drainage tunnels, but it also beats being stuck here for days on end. And… "Urgh, is the smell getting worse…?"

   Just the faint smell of sewage fluid and… smoke?

   "Wha…?" he raised his phone up and looked around both ends of the tunnel. Lo and behold in the direction he was heading towards was a small plume of smoke billowing from another tunnel that seemed to connect to the one he was in. It was faint, almost blending in with the darkness, yet it still stood out against the shine of his phone's flashlight.

   There was also no light emanating from the smoking tunnel.

   Against his better judgment Ashton quickly rushed towards the tunnel opening. Shining the light into the tunnel all he found was the same concrete walls, except with a small stream of smoke at the ceiling. The tunnel's end still had the void of darkness as well …

   …it couldn't be like that dream, can it?

   He took a step forward, and another.

   It couldn't have. There was evidently a fire in it.

   Another step, and another.

   Glass. Pain. He didn't even feel like himself in it. It felt like visions or the memories of someone else.

   His steps continued to echo again as he followed the small stream of smoke. Although it wasn't long until the slightness of it was changing and the stream steadily got thicker the more he pressed forward.

   The smoke of a flame was different. Pungent, disgusting, awful. In truth, this smoke smelled vile as well. But it wasn't the same as fires. It was reminiscent of something else.

   And yet his fear couldn't easily be quashed by such a notion. So much unfamiliarity, so much strangeness. It was evident nothing was right. And yet, Ashton remained curious.

   But was it true curiosity, or was it a compulsion…?

   It didn't seem to matter. The stream grew thicker, and the light began to reach a wall that only scattered and obscured it. The source of the smoke, he had presumed. And he still continued to step forward.

   He wants to investigate further.

   In an instant the smoke consumed him. He's surrounded in it, the dense grays and blacks layering around and onto him. His eyelids flicker as he tries to blink it out his eyes, and he can't stop himself from inhaling it. Strangely though, he doesn't cough. The smoke entering his body seems to get absorbed into it once it reaches his lungs. Almost as if it was becoming a part of him. This only caused his brain to grow foggy.

   The haze entering his mind caused him to steadily lower his hand, the light from the phone slowly moving further and further down. After a few seconds the light would be snuffed out, darkness falling into the entirety of the tunnel. The last tangible sound he hears is the echo that emanated from his phone hitting the concrete floor of the tunnel. Everything enters a pitch black haze after that, and Ashton was left unaware of just what the smoke was doing to him.

   In the dark there was a subtle slight swirling of smoke that seemed to spiral around his hands and arms. Dense dark vapors circled around both limbs, the constant whirling forcing changes in the areas that he had been left unaware of. The first was that in his hands, the smoke seeming to practically massage them both and force their size larger. Stretching them out more both horizontally, vertically, steadily growing with each passing second. At the same time there was a thickness settling into them, a sizable bulk being compounded as the muscle and bone within them was getting beefier.

   There was a concurrent set of alterations that was settling into each finger of his hands as well. At first they were thin and narrow, but with the increase in volume that was settling into Ashton’s hands it was causing them to get thicker as well. Meatiness being forced into each finger; density getting more pronounced and replacing their original thinness. Lengthening and thickening, getting all chunky. Almost powerful in a way. The tips of each finger seemed to blunt too, nails garnering a duller end as the man's hands garnered a more brutish appearance.

   That supposed brutish appearance was only enhanced as the constant flow of smoke added another layer to all the changes. A slight darkness was etched into his skin, the softness of both the front and back of his hands getting altered as a layering of aging was accumulating across them. Backs of each hand getting more weathered, dirty, scarred. A slight hardness formed across sections of his palms at the same time, the beginnings of calluses forming in the area above the dorsal transverse.

   The aging had also already quickly reached his arms, easily being accompanied by a slight layering of hair steadily sprouting down the back of each of them. Beneath it all came the bulking that had transitioned beyond his wrists and onto his forearms. A certain level of thickness etched into his lower arms, flexors and extensors both growing in tandem as the muscularity of the regions was getting further emphasized well beyond what they used to be. All a hard layer of strength, a heavy sturdiness constantly getting compounded as the muscles continued growing in size.

   His upper arms weren’t left behind as they too gained a drastic increase in musculature. By now the transformation had already reached beneath the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, but that didn’t allow them to be beyond the reach of the swirling fog that continued to fill his body with rapidly manifesting strength. Biceps getting bulkier, triceps ever increasing alongside them concurrently. It wouldn’t take very long for the creases that divided his muscles to begin to etch into the fabric of his sleeves. This happened more and more as time went on and more muscles bloated; deltoids swelling outwards while his shoulders broadened and increased in size. 

   At this point the small wisps of smoke had been getting more plentiful in their constant swirling around Ashton,small drags seemingly now starting to circle the man’s torso. Although by now everything had just gone numb for the man. He couldn’t tell if he was walking or standing still, he couldn’t hear and he definitely couldn’t see beneath the dense haze of eigengrau that had now consumed his vision. The ability to think was being greatly hindered at this point as well. It was almost like the smoke had clogged up his brain, dense and dazing him out.

   All he could really feel was… warmth. A warmth entering his arms, a warm in his chest. It was starting to make him sweat a bit. He let out a grunt, the sound falling onto deaf ears as he raised one of his massive hands up to his chest. His very core was heating up, and there was an odd feeling of squeezing in his upper torso. Everything was starting to just feel… tight. Evidently that may be in part because of the swelling his chest was beginning to undergo. The influence of the smoke evidently had moved to that area now, prompting the muscles in the region to steadily push forward.

   A crease had started to form in the middle of his shirt, subtle at first but slowly growing as his chest only continued to grow out more. Both pectorals were swelling, thickening in size more with each second that passed. The collar of his shirt got tighter as well as his body was forced wider, the size of it stretching larger and wider. As heat continued to bombard the internals of his pecs, meat amassing more and more, a small layer of fat was accrued in the area at the same time. This was accompanied by a dusting of chest hair forming, coarse in texture and brown in coloration. It also wouldn't be long until that light dusting got increasingly thicker in density as well.

   The hairs then started to trail down the man's midline, creeping downwards towards his navel at a steady pace. As it dusted across the skin of his abdomen, a churning emerged from within it as well. The region rippled, muscles bubbling and hardening as that area followed in the sudden garnering of muscularity. Abs slowly rising up from the once flat area, slotting outwards row by row until he was graced with a six pack. This new musculature would almost instantly begin to indent itself into his shirt, the tightness of it perfectly outlining his new form. 

   However this would be followed by a softness entering the area, the newly formed muscles quickly getting consumed by fat that accumulated rapidly. It wasn't an enormous amount of fat though, only garnering enough to smooth out the abdominal region by a small margin and give his muscles a softer appearance, but still would keep them visible.

   By now Ashton's breathing was quickening, causing the smoke to get inhaled into his lungs at a more rapid pace. Was it getting… familiar? Ugh, it was hard to tell. Hard to think. He just wanted to…

   While one hand was grabbing onto his chest, his other hand had started to grab at the neck of his shirt. He idly tugged on it in an attempt to relieve the tightness to any degree. His shirt had already seemed to be undersized, with his chest squeezing against the fabric of it to a point that his now deep cleavage was indented into the material. The bulky, meaty shelf that consisted of his two pecs constantly pushing at the front of the shirt, and his wider frame tugging at the sides. There was an almost primal urge amassing in his mind to just rip it apart. An urge that was getting more persistent with time, more annoying.

   He continued to tug at the neck of his shirt, and by now he had gone to grab at the portion that laid on his chest. The big, meaty fingers were gripping into the fabric more and more. The urge to rip it apart growing stronger and strong until-

   Shrrp!

   His shirt was partially torn down the middle. His massive pecs were finally allowed to breathe, and the smoke grazed his skin properly. Aging it more, causing more hairs to sprout upon it with bits of gray beginning to speckle it. He was breathing heavily with both his mouth and his nose, the smell and taste of the vapor assaulting his sense of taste and smell at the exact same time. But he didn't seem to care much about that.

   A hand loosened its grip on the fragment of torn clothing before ultimately disregarding it, letting the tattered remains just loosely hang off his torso. The hand just drifted back onto his chest instead. Drifted and… squeezed. Hard. For a moment his face tensed, teeth grinding together as the hand embraced the pectoral. But everything softened as he felt just how… squishy it was. How pleasurable it was just groping his own chest like this. Rubbing the hand around the pec, grazing a nipple, feeling the hairs beneath the palm of his hand. The warmth, the softness, the almost arousing feeling it gave him to commit such an act.

   The only way he could describe his mind now would be… melting? Thoughts vanished beneath the haze that perpetuated around his brain. All he could feel was emotions from his own acts. And yet everything still felt dulled. It didn't really feel like he existed in this space despite the smoke seeming to interact with him. Spiral around him, bombard him. All he could really determine was his own sense of self, which in and of itself felt shrouded. 

   He failed to stifle a moan from exiting his mouth as he continued to grope his chest. He could at least feel himself. The sweat slowly moving down his face and body, the low heat constantly erupting in his form. The constant pressing of his hand against his skin, the feeling of the smoke rolling across his form. 

   His throat itched. It might've been from the smoke, it could've easily been from something else. If Ashton still had enough consciousness to hear what's around him, he'd probably hear his breathing begin to deepen. The pitch and tone lowering more and more as he was feeling himself up. A husky gravelliness etching into it as the constant breathing of smoke seemed to slowly age his own voice. All the while his neck was thickening, head steadily growing alongside it.

   At the same time the changes were already transitioned downwards as well. The button of his jeans starting to strain against his now wider waist, the effect of the smoke having now reached his lower body. A tightness in his pants burgeoned, and it only increased further with each passing second as growth was formulating beneath his waist.

   This was first evident behind him with the seat of his jeans filling out. His rear was bloating, fat filling up the cheeks while his gluteus muscles expanded. A sizable amount of padding was what got added, overall rounding out his ass into a plump thickness.

   At the same time a bulkiness was being added to his legs. The upper portion of his legs was first, thighs growing thicker with the constant addition of muscle being added to them. The seams of his legwear already began to rip against his maturing hamstrings and quadriceps, the opposing swellings pulling his jeans apart at the sides. A few hairs also poked out the holes, a noticeable hairiness sprouting across his legs and cascading downwards.

   The crus of his legs practically burned, his calves swelling and bulging outwards in an instantaneous workout. The ends of his jeans started to run upwards as the bones of the limbs extended longer, some more inches being added to the man's height rapidly. More and more tears formed across the legwear, the continuously growing hairs progressing more and more downwards as the changes became shrouded beyond and beneath his footwear.

   The toecaps of his shoes started to slightly bulge, toes already beginning to push up against the ends of it as both his feet were forced to grow in size. These changes were practically the same as those on his hands; skin garnering the weathered look to it while an extremely light coat of hair was pressing further down the feet and towards his toes. His footwear progressively got smaller and smaller as portions of his feet constantly dug into the material. Heels pushed against the backs while the sides of his feet were doing the same with the sides of his shoes. By now as the bridge of his feet raised thanks to the thickening of both appendages his shoes began to pull apart, toes moving further and further to the point where they might as well break through the material. Rips and cracks pierced the air more and more as the shifts in size continued more and more until it all came to a crescendo. Blunt toes busting out the toe caps, moving forward more as they progressed an inch or two beyond the edge of the sole. Laces were torn apart, cloth splitting more as more portions of his feet were finally given the space to breathe. 

   Speaking of breathing, his own was seeming to be getting labored in a way. All these physical changes, all this haze in his head, it felt so tiring. Although that could easily be a factor from all the smoke he's inhaling. It was practically enough to replace any oxygen he would have preserved. And yet he continued, the taste and smell of the vapor constantly growing in familiarity even more as the changes progressed.

   You'll get used to it…

   Well, he already was wasn't he?

   "Nmgh, fuck…" he groaned out. The first sound he's properly hearing. His voice got so deep, so… accented. Mature, masculine, gruff, and powerful.

   "How'd it get this… dense…"

   He raised his head and looked forward. At least the smoke seemed to be slowly dissipating. He could see faint lights through the fog. Not the light of a flame, seemed way too… colored for that.

   He pulled the hand that was on his chest away from it and raised it up to his face, pressing the massive thing hard onto the side of it. He had to get out of this practically intoxicated haze he was in… And then he began to idly scratch at his face. An itch was setting into it, said itch followed by the feeling of hairs pricking against the tips of his fingers.

   Deep gray hairs were steadily growing down his face, seeming to have started at the tips of his sideburns and moving down the sides of his jaw. They were delegated to the furthest sides of his jaw for a bit, however as they grew closer to the chin the thickness of the newly sprouting beard got more prominent. Dense fuzz rolling across the lower halves of his jaw, maintaining that as they got closer towards the lowest point of his face. At the same time segments of graying hairs were stretching around and above his mouth, a thick and stubbly mustache being formulated by the new growth.

   The feeling of all this fuzz on his seemed to activate another weird urge within the changing man's mind. Scratching steadily shifted to rubbing, letting all the hairs brush against his palm as his mind was overwhelmed with the urge to feel up his beard. Feel up his… face?

   His originally unoccupied other hand soon followed, the man squishing the sides of his face. All of this seemed to cause another swatch of changes, the sensual rubbing appearing to practically sculpt his face beneath his hands. His jawline steadily chiseled out, chin growing flatter as the roundness faded into something more masculine and hard. The overall shape of his head was altered beneath his palms, growing out to be wider and more rectangular.

   His facial features were evidently altering as well. Skin getting older and more weathered as age was settling upon them. Nose broadened out more as the tip got flatter, and the bridge wider. The front ends of his eyebrows bushed while the back ends tapered out. Even more signs of age etched around his eyes as noticable bags formed beneath them, wrinkles around them. All the while the ends of his hairline receded until he had a slight M-shape indented into it.

   His hair itself wasn't left unchanged either as it slowly grew out a bit, darkening to a deep brown coloration as they did. The style was shifting into a more swept back appearance as the follicles lengthened out behind him, although they only got long enough to graze his upper neck. Either way, they had gotten longer than they were before with many bits of them sticking together and causing a look of thickness to form within his hair. There were also portions that stuck up slightly above other portions, bits that curled towards the end, all of which gave a slight messiness towards the ends of his hair. Last came the sprinkling of grays that formed in the portions of hair at his temples.

   A shock of bright blue entered his irises, a headache growing more and more prominent in his head. The smoke was getting less and less dense, although his mind and vision both remained hazy. Thoughts and memories were hard to formulate, his sense of self feeling like it was muddled and shifted beneath the fog that perpetuated in his brain. He would panic, but the smoke deadens it. The smoke deadens everything, the chemicals within it altering his own brain chemistry to a capacity. How much had he inhaled? He usually tried not to inhale enough to get this high. That felt like such a foreign thought, and yet it felt right.

   His breathing continued, each inhale forcing more smoke into him. Of course with it all spiraling around him and constantly pushing into his skin with age, forcing itself into his very form whenever it can, the density of the vapor was progressively getting less and less prevalent. The lights on the other end were becoming more visible, familiarity yet again creeping into the man's mind as they did so. Of course his body wasn't the only thing the smoke seemed to pelt with itself as the ashes finally started settling on his clothing.

   The density of his shirt steadily increased as the smoke got into the threads, the material shifting from soft to hard as it evidently shifted into leather. At the same time it was also changing color, deepening into a dark brown. The size of his shirt increased as well, and the rip that he had made seemed to extend further downwards in the middle until it hit the shirt's hem. The torn segment rippled as it appeared to smooth out and fix itself, shifting more into a proper split of something like a jacket. This was further exemplified by a small, flat collar blooming from the former shirt's neck. All the while a mostly white undershirt manifested beneath the jacket, his chest hidden again from the world as the newly formed and noticeably baggy attire covered it.

   His jeans were the next part to extend, sliding back down his legs while the tears at the sides sewed back up as if nothing happened. There still seemed to be a slight tightness within the jeans, but it wasn't uncomfortably so. Furthermore was the addition of a larger, darker blue patch that stitched itself to the legwear's right side. Meanwhile, manifesting out of nowhere was a metallic looking pauldron that strapped itself above his right knee. Similar 'accessories' seemed to appear around his body shortly after; such as a leather cuff forming around his left wrist and tightly holding onto it, and a thick and snug leather waist belt manifesting on the lower end of his abdomen.

   The last bit of clothing that had alterations was his shoes. His toes were consumed by the toecaps once again as the footwear started to increase in size. The damage done by his massive feet was easily getting reversed, the cloth fixing itself before shifting into hard leather. The soles of the shoes thickened, the now larger toecap got covered with metal, and the topline was increasing rapidly until it was nestled halfway up the crus of his legs. Any form of lacing was consumed by the leather, the newly changed boots seeming to mostly be smooth with only a few interruptions found within the material.

   All of those changes had caused the smoke to thin out even more, and it was only getting thinner with each passing second. With each breath that the man took. The world around him steadily grew more and more visible, the deep haze fading away into what seemed to be a dingy alley in the Lanes.

   Urgh, how did he know where this was?

   Such a question felt inane after just a few seconds. Of course he'd know where this was, he… lives here? There's a hint of doubt in that notion. There's doubt in a lot of notions really, but the fog within his brain wouldn't let it go. His mind was getting filled with conflicts. Conflicts between his interests, his personality, his age, his identity-

   "Need to cut back on the smoking…" he groaned before idly leaning on a wall of a random building that sandwiched this alleyway. A part of him was surprised it didn't curve inward, but the thought vanished just as quickly as it appeared.

   Still, more thoughts cropped up. That wasn't his voice, was it? And he never smoked, did he…? The more he questioned it the more the inquiries didn't feel right anymore. Constant thoughts of wondering what's right and what's wrong with him slowly but surely getting buried under a single notion.

   That notion was he must've been high as fuck.

   He used the wall as a crutch of sorts as he steadily inched forwards a bit more. The blurriness of the lights ahead had mostly been put into clarity, the man immediately calling forth the name 'The Last Drop'. Although a nagging feeling in the back of his mind was already being tipped off that something was off about it, but with the persistent fog in his mind it was hard to concisely trust that feeling in full right now.

   He turns away, fully leaning on the wall with his back now. Slowly but surely the feeling that this body was his was finally setting in. Any unfamiliarity or weirdness that came with it subsided as it practically felt like the connection between his body, mind, and soul was finally being forced properly. It made the density of the haze in his mind a little less prevalent, even if it still remained.

   Vander. At least he could still remember his name. A low, gruff chuckle escaped his throat. "Ain't that high yet…"

   Although he knew he never smoked this much. All he had to do was dredge up whatever memory existed that explained just how he got here.

   For that second the haze lifted as if to appeal to his demand. A small door that opened within his mind, although it was enough to inadvertently release a flood. Something in his face drained as the high stupor faded in an instant.

   Flames…

#character tf #human tf #transformation #age progression #muscle growth tf #tf

[charmwasjess]

10, 14 and 20 for ask game!

For 10: Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

All of them?!?! I write mainly in Dooku's Jedi era (pre-prequels? are we still calling it that?) and that was a super tiny part of the fandom back when the movies were actively coming out. It didn't seem possible anyone would care about it now, so having any readers is like... fucking AMAZING! I love each and every one of you DEARLY.

I'll also say, responses to my fics where I'm writing Dooku and Sifo-Dyas together has been interesting. I definitely lost a reader or two, which makes me sad, but I was really surprised and incredibly touched by the much larger positive response to it. Having been a queer person in the closet for a lot of my younger life, writing queer experiences openly is really cool to me.

For 14: If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

Answered a little bit of this here and here. :D

For 20: What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

I admit, I really like Milk Run. For those of you who haven't read it, in the fic, a "Milk Run" is a Jedi slang term for an easy lowstakes mission where nothing exciting happens. Dooku is recovering from an injury and so desperate to get out of the Temple that he'll take any mission - so he and Qui-Gon are assigned a classic good ol' Milk Run. Of course, this is wonderful because Dooku knows how to handle the most dangerous missions the galaxy can throw at him, but not how to sit still, and it's fun to write him doing things he's bad at.

It also gave me a thematic chance to explore a topic I love: Jedi working nontraditional Jedi jobs. Jocasta and Sifo-Dyas lives as Jedi who both serve the Order in less traditional "run in with your lightsaber out" roles. Jocasta obviously in the Archives, and Sifo-Dyas currently supervising a group of graduate students at a Jedi archeological dig site.

There's actually a snippet I love where Sifo-Dyas is trying to explain to Dooku that there are other ways to deal with a space pirate queen that kind of hits at the heart of the fic's Milk Run theme:

“She threatens you?” Dooku tried unsuccessfully to keep the outrage out of his voice. He couldn’t possibly follow Sifo-Dyas around for their whole lives finishing his fights for him. Even if he might still want to try.

“Not in a real way. It seemed like almost pageantry to her, or posturing. You know, her crew gets to see her face off with a Jedi, and I get to pull out my lightsaber and wave it around in front of the graduate students, all just good fun…I never thought she’d actually try something.” He scowled. “Especially not with the connivance of the asshole Arnet!

“Sifo…” The words "wave it around" were echoing surreally through Dooku’s head.

“I know, I know. I’m releasing my anger into the Force.”

“No, it wasn’t that…" In his own career as a Jedi, Dooku was occasionally called out to deal with especially troublesome pirates on missions that were more his typical, life-threatening dangerous style, decidedly not milk runs, or research on cultural sites. There was nothing of good fun or lightsaber-waving in the desperate violence of those encounters. “I was just going to say… your life… it is sometimes strange to me.”

“What, just because of the Queen Theo thing?”

“This situation where you and a space pirate recreationally antagonize each other for the entertainment of your subordinates is a fine example of what I mean.” Dooku scoffed. “Come to think of it, perhaps you ought to have slept with her after all. She might have been less inclined to eventually steal from you.”

“Oh, wow, so you know all about pleasing women now.”

Dooku shot him a venomous look. “I get by.”

Sifo-Dyas began to laugh. “I honestly don’t understand why people think you have no sense of humor. You’re completely hilarious.”

#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASK!!! :D #I know I was super late answering but it was because I was having too much fun obviously lol #fic stuff #answer #answered asks

[brownsplodge]

An over the top and in depth analysis on the rottmnt Family medic candidates, and in what order I’d place them to be in as the most suitable medics(real: Splodge sucks at writing short titles)

I’m not usually one for making hcs outside of the known canon, but there are lots of hcs in rottmnt that i love/absolutely agree with. I’m not sure about this one, i don’t feel there is a fixed medic in the family, but it does make sense ngl.

I’m gonna analyse each family member to tell which ones would be the best to fit the role of medic(or replacement Medic).

Raph: Raph would be very likely to become stressed even if someone skinned a knee slightly, or go over the top if one of his family members were injured(not really a bad thing, but it could make them uncomfortable). He wouldn’t be a great medic, not only because of his obviously larger and therefore more clumsy hands, but also because you have to stay calm, or at least be able to keep a cool head when you treat wounds, especially if they’re bad. Raph is in my opinion probably the worst candidate for a medic in most situations, though he could be good if he stays calm and is careful, as he is very motherly and he would probably be good at looking after someone while helping them.

Leo: Leo is as far as I’m aware the most popular candidate for medic in the fandom, and I do see why. He is smart enough to learn something if he wanted to or felt the need to, and he is the best at manipulating others into thinking he’s calm or laid back even in the worst situations. He’s pretty neat in his own way and would probably be able to make whoever he’s treating be so annoyed they don’t even care about being wounded(/pos/j). He’s likely to do it correctly, unlike his other family members, all more likely to go over the top or not know what to do.

Donnie: Donnie was at first my most logical option, but I realised the flaw in this quite fast. Though he’s very smart and no doubt has excellent knowledge in lots of Things, his interests are mostly in technology(that can be useful in certain medical situations, to be fair), and even though it’s likely he knows in theory how to treat wounds, he easily gets nauseous(as seen, especially in the film, a couple times when he feels sick at seeing certain slimy gooey stuff(unspecified to avoid spoilers). Also, agin like with Raph, he might go over the top, and not just because he cares about his brothers but also because he seems like exactly the kind of guy to be a bit of a hypochondriac.

Mikey: Mikey might be a good medic ngl. At first I thought obviously not, but I realised he might not be that bad. He could probably learn medical knowledge(with a bit of difficulty probably), even if his attention span seems a bit short, and other than knowledge, he might be quite a nice caretaker to have. He’s cheerful so you are likely to feel less stressed, and I bet he has a ton of colourful plasters. If the injuries aren’t very bad, Mikey would be a great medic, and the main reason I’m saying if they’re not bad is because he’s pretty young(to be fair not a lot younger than his brothers, but still young), and learning medical knowledge takes time and a good concentration is definitely a plus(which Mikey doesn’t really have). He’d probably be a pretty bangin’ therapist though.

Splinter: Oof. I’m not sure actually. I know that splinter at least at the beginning is pretty neglectful, but he would definitely try to help his family if they needed it, we all know that. The problems I see are that firstly, similar to Raph, he doesn’t seem to handle stress all that well. And secondly, the boys are likely to injure themselves doing something they weren’t supposed to, so they wouldn’t go to ask him for help.

April: I’m a little surprised that April doesn’t really appear as a medic in any fics/hcs. She would, in my opinion, be a pretty good one. She’s a little impulsive, but that’s mainly when it comes to battle, and she would probably be the smartest if it weren’t for Donnie. As far as I’m aware she doesn’t get nauseous as easily, and she can definitely act fast and smart even in dangerous/stressful situations. She probably won’t go over the top or … under the top I guess, and she’s a great improviser, probably would be able to patch someone up on the spot if needed.

In conclusion, I think that even though Medic Leo isn’t a bad hc, I think medic April makes more sense. The order I would put them in would be:

April

Leo

Donnie

Mikey

And Raph and splinter tied.

I hope you had fun watching me rambling without proof or rewatches and I bid you farewell and good luck on your turtly adventures

#I spent way too much time on this #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #analysis #rottmnt analysis #medic leo #medic #medic everyone #teenage mutant ninja turtle headcanons #rise donnie #rise leo #rise splinter #rise mikey #rise raph

[starl0ver4]

“Drop it…” pt 1

Boxer/Street figher ! Seonghwa X Named! Reader (Jo-mi)

(CW: Seonghwa smokes, slight fluff, !! 얼룩(unprotected 냄새, stay safe!!!), reader n seonghwa are enemies to lovers, seonghwa has a 멍청이 kink lmao, SLOW BURN I KNOW BUT Idk I tried )

My first time trying to write a proper smut scene I hope it’s okay omg. I wanted to write a more intense, concept-heavy smut scene but I just tried my best since I'm not familar with smut writing💔💔. if you love it follow and like for more maybe if I keep up with this account also MATZ M/V was good and GO STREAM IT OR WE FIGHTING 🤗

————————————————————————

Joo-mi pov

Me and my friend Yeon was walking around under ground at an illegal Street fight. We walked around the place for a minute before going over to the bar to get a drink “Two Mojito with lime please” Yeon said we both sat down on the seats and talked “I don’t really like how this place vibes is.” I said speaking again other we stoped for a minute “oh come on Joo-mi, you never like the place I pick when it’s my turn!” Yeon said with a pout and sip on her drink, I rolled my eyes and replied with a disbelief tone “that’s not true at all” I wrap my arms over my chest before she can said something the room go dark and some lights turn on in the big ring that was in the middle of the room

“What the hell is going on?” I asked

“It’s starting! He’s about to fight someone!” Yeon replied excitedly

I look at her with a confused expression and look at the ring to see two men standing there getting ready to fight each other, one had black hair pushed back with hair tied he had grillz in his mouth his opponent was a larger men he had blonde and way more muscles then he does.

“do he think he can take him on?” I said still looking at the two men “the other guy is fucked, TOOTHLESS can take anyone down!” Yeon screamed, Toothless? What kind of name was that “what’s up with his name?” I asked “He made that his name cause he makes his opponents lose their teeth! It’s so cool” Yeon replied.

As soon as the bell rings Toothless takes the first punch and knock the man on the ground, he take his jaw in his hand and looks up at Toothless then get up to throw a punch to his face toothless dodge it and hit him right in the jaw again making some teeth fall out his mouth, everyone start screaming and going wild over it.

I looked at the scene with a shocked expression not actually expecting him to knock his teeth out “I told you!” Yeon screamed into my ear. The reef grab Toothless wrist and rise it into the air making him the winner for tonight. “I can’t believe he actually made his teeth came out” I said in surprise Yeon looked at me with smile “did you like the show?” She said grabbing my arm and making us walk around the place.

I nodded my head yes and looked around the area to see people drinking,talking, making out and more.

“I actually like one of the places you tak-“ before I can finish my words I bumped into someone “oh I’m so-“ I tried to say “you better be sorry” I heard a deep male voice I look at him to see a old men . “Excuse me?” I said with a stern voice “Hey, Joo-mi let’s just go we don’t want no trouble sir”

Yeon said with a scared expression I look at her then back at him “You should take your friend advice “ He said moving closer to me “how about you take it, cause I’m about to get re-“ I got cut-off again from Yeon “Joo-mi! Come on don’t let him ruin our night” she said “Do we have a problem here Mr.Lee?” I look over my shoulder see another men with a furry coat “u-uhh no Mr.Park no trouble at all”

the old man said then walked away “omg Joo-mi!, that’s Toothless!” Yeon whispering in my ear, I turn to face Toothless “We didn’t need your help, I was perfectly fine when you showed up” I said with a nasty tone.

Toothless chuckled and face me as well “is that right? Cause that didn’t seem like it at all babydoll” he replied with a smirk rising onto his cherry lips “Actually yes I was handling it very well, I don’t need a men to help me” Yeon was standing behind me watching everything go down as me and Toothless share a heated glare at each other.

“Also my name isn’t babydoll it’s Joo-mi” I told him “Well Joo-mi, I don’t care what your name is” He said with a cheeky laugh “Hey Seonghwa!, we got a customer that need that drug ASAP!” We turn to look at the voice to see a shorty man (he’s not that short) with an orange furry coat on like Toothless.

“I’m coming Hongjoong, I have some business to finish lady’s I will see you both later” he said handing us both a card “why do we need this?” I said looking at the card “it’s our business card, if you want some drugs, MATZ always got the good shit” “Toothless said then walked away while winking

“Holy shit, did we just meet TOOTHLESS?!” Yeon scream while I continue to look at the card he gave me “MATZ Drugs, call us at 180-***-*** Toothless and Captain Bluey M-A-Tz like allergy “ I read.

———————

SOOOOOO??? DO WE LIKE OR HATE IT? PLEASE GIVE ME FEEDBACK SO I CAN MAKE SECOND PART BETTER IM NOT GOOD AT MAKING STORIES INTERESTING AT ALL ALSO IT’S NOT THAT LONG LMFAO 😭

LIKE,REPOST AND COMMENT PLEASE AND THANK YOU 🎸🤞🏽

#starl0ver4 #ateez #seonghwa #seonghwa smut #ateez atiny #atiny #ateez matz

[littlesoka7567]

Quiet

Bad Batch s2 spoilers!!

Summary: Hunter has to deal with his guilt.

Hey guys! This is my first ever attempt at writing Star Wars fic, I hope you like it!

~

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

Hunter loosely holds Tech’s goggles in his hand, his thumb rubbing along the band on the back slowly.

The Marauder is unusually quiet. Wrecker’s snores are absent as the largest squad member only pretends to sleep. Echo is unusually still in the copilot seat, staring out as they rush through hyperspace.

It’s quiet.

There are no sounds of Omega restlessly turning in her room.

There are no sounds of Tech typing away on his datapad.

There are two less heartbeats than Hunter is used to. Two less sets of quiet breathing. Two less people he had never thought he would have to learn to live without.

It’s quiet. The only thing Hunter consistently wanted in his life since decanting was a little quiet, just enough to make his migraine go away.

Hunter would rather take the migraine, now that he knows the cost.

He’s not used to being a failure. Before the war ended, Hunter led his team to countless victories. He never lost, his team never failed a mission.

Echo has lost countless brothers. Countless missions. Loss is not something new to Echo. Hunter turns his head just slightly, eyes straying from the goggles to said squad member.

How does he do it? How does he just…move on? How does Echo cope with all his fallen brothers weighing on his mind? Does he think about them?

“It gets easier,” Echo says, low and soft. It still startles Hunter just a bit, is still loud in the previous near-silence.

“What?” Hunter asks, voice hoarse. Did he say any of that out loud?

“Losing a brother.” Echo doesn’t look away from the stars, still as a statue.

Wrecker’s breathing hitches in the back, and Hunter is sure he’s listening.

“What do you mean?” Hunter asks, shaking his head.

Echo sighs, but still doesn’t move. “It dulls. The pain, I mean. Right now it’s sharp, like it’s trying to stab it’s way out of your rib cage with a vibroblade.” It’s quiet for a heartbeat. Two. “It dulls into an ache eventually. And if you’re lucky, when you’re really distracted, you can forget for a while.”

Hunter looks back down at the goggles, and hears Wrecker stifle a sob, probably on his arm.

“It’s not your fault,” Echo says after what feels like hours. His head is finally turned to look at Hunter, a grim frown set in stone.

Hunter winces, feeling like Echo was looking at his very core. “I’m the-“

“It’s not on you,” Echo cuts him off. “It’s not on me, and it’s not on Wrecker either.” Wrecker’s almost silent sobs get slightly louder, making it clear the larger clone is listening. “Tech made his decision. And it was a good one; I would have done the same thing. So would any of us.”

Hunter looks down at the goggles, digesting the words. If it had been Hunter, and the choice was between falling and putting his team in danger…the answer is obvious. Hunter wouldn’t hesitate.

“I keep thinking about what I could have done differently,” Hunter admits softly. He looks back up, allowing Echo to read his eyes. “But I can’t think of anything I could have done. Maybe try to convince Gerrera more to give up on the idea. Maybe talk us out of the mission all together…”

“Nothing could have talked us out of going after Crosshair. Not after his message.” Echo looks back out the window, and Hunter feels a flutter of guilt for a different reason.

Everyone else seems so stuck on Crosshair, so unwilling to let him go. Why was Hunter the only one who could see? Crosshair didn’t want their help. He didn’t want to be rescued, or be a part of their squad, or anything. He didn’t ask for help; no, he asked for them to hide. To get away, get Omega safe.

And Hunter failed there, too. So full of failures. Crosshair, Tech, Omega.

All his fault.

Hunter abruptly stood, unable to handle the crushing guilt threatening to swallow him whole.

“Hunter…” Echo didn’t bother to follow him, only sighing in frustration.

Wrecker stands from his bunk as Hunter approaches, looking down at Hunter with sad, wet eyes. It’s quiet for a moment as they look at each other sadly, both burdened by their own sense of guilt.

“He’s right, Hunter,” Wrecker finally says, his low voice slow. As if he wants to make sure the words come out right. “Its not your fault. It’s my fault. You told me to get him on board, and I failed.”

More guilt washes through him, icy pain through his whole body. His chest physically hurts, as if there’s something trying to cave his rib cage in.

While Hunter was stuck in his own head wallowing in his own failures, Wrecker had been blaming himself the whole time.

He wonders if Hunter’s orders had been echoing around in Wrecker’s brain since the moment they left the Sargent’s lips.

Wrecker, get him on board! Impatient sounding, as if he shouldn’t have had to even give the order. Even in his own memory, Hunter thinks he sounded harsh.

He hadn’t meant to. He was only stressed, scared about what would happen if they couldn’t get the rails turning again. He hadn’t been thinking about Tech falling; it was such an impossibility to him. Of course Wrecker would get to Tech, of course Tech would be fine. The car detaching was the real worry. Them all falling was his only concern.

Until it wasn’t.

Hunter sighs heavily, forcing himself into the moment. He’s already failed his squad enough; he can’t keep letting Wrecker think like this.

“It wasn’t your fault, Wrecker. I couldn’t see how far away Tech was from you until it was too late.” He looks back up at his batchmate, a hand resting soothingly on his upper arm, just above his elbow. “There wasn’t anything you could have done. The weight of the other car would have taken us all down with it.”

Wrecker doesn’t look convinced quite yet, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I couldn’t have held it?” He asks, and it’s more of a plea than a genuine question.

Hunter shakes his head, forcing a sad smile. “No, Wrecker. Even if you had held on, it wouldn’t have saved Tech.” Hunter looks at his other hand still holding the goggles, sighing sadly. He offers them to Wrecker, who stares at them with wide eyes. “Do you want a turn?”

Wrecker gingerly takes them, and Hunter is sure he’s never seen Wrecker handle anything with such care before. Not even explosives. “Tech,” Wrecker cries, as if it was ripped from his throat. As if he hadn’t meant to say it, it wasn’t a conscious decision.

Hunter lets out his own shaky breath, fighting back his own tears. “You were so brave, Wrecker,” Hunter whispers. Wrecker looks up at Hunter again, his eyes full of tears and new tracks shining down his face. “You almost fell too. And you didn’t care; you were there for Tech anyway. Hanging out the side to try and catch him. I saw that. I saw how brave you were.” Hunter’s voice slowly gets louder, until it’s almost conversational volume. “Tech would have been so proud of you.”

Wrecker’s face screws up, and Hunter knows that guilt won’t go away in its entirety. There’s nothing anyone could say to make that guilt go away.

He knows, because there’s nothing anyone could say to Hunter to make the guilt go away.

“Get some sleep,” Hunter says, voice hoarse. “I’ll wake you up if we find anything.”

Wrecker hesitates, but Hunter squeezes his arm in reassurance once and lets his hand fall. Wrecker finally nods, laying back down in his bunk and holding the goggles close to his chest.

Hunter continues his original path to the cargo bay, closing the door behind him with a shaky sigh.

It’s quiet, in here. But that’s normal. The doors are supposed to dampen noise.

Even if all five of Hunter’s family were in the ship on the other side, laughing and talking or eating and planning…Hunter wouldn’t be able to hear it.

It’s quiet, but Hunter can pretend it’s the good quiet. At least while the doors are closed. At least until he’s forced back into his role as leader.

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper echo #clone trooper wrecker #clone trooper tech #my writing

[zephiris]

All fancy smancy generative ai models know how to do is parrot what they’ve been exposed to.

A parrot can shout words that kind of make sense given context but a parrot doesn’t really understand the gravity of what it’s saying. All the parrot knows is that when it says something in response to certain phrases it usually gets rewarded with attention/food.

What a parrot says is sometimes kinda sorta correct/sometimes fits the conversation of humans around it eerily well but the parrot doesn’t always perfectly read the room and might curse around a child for instance if it usually curses around its adult owners without facing any punishment. Since the parrot doesn’t understand the complexities of how we don’t curse around young people due to societal norms, the parrot might mess that up/handle the situation of being around a child incorrectly.

Similarly AI lacks understanding of what it’s saying/creating. All it knows is that when it arranged pixels or words in a certain way after being given some input it usually gets rewarded/gets to survive and so continues to get the sequence of words/pixels following a prompt correct enough to imitate people convincingly (or that poorly performing version of itself gets replaced with another version of itself which is more convincing).

I argue that a key aspect of consciousness is understanding the gravity and context of what you are saying — having a reason that you’re saying or doing what you are doing more than “I get rewarded when I say/do this.” Yes AI can parrot an explanation of its thought process (eli5 prompting etc) but it’s just mimicking how people explain their thought process. It’s surface level remixing of human expression without understanding the deeper context of what it’s doing.

I do have some untested ideas as to why its understanding is only surface level but this is pure hypothesis on my part. In essence I believe humans are really good at extrapolating across scales of knowledge. We can understand some topics in great depth while understanding others similarly on a surface level and go anywhere in between those extremes. I hypothesize we are good at that because our brains have fractal structure to them that allows us to have different levels of understanding and look at some stuff at a very microscopic level while still considering the bigger picture and while fitting that microscopic knowledge into our larger zoomed out understanding.

I know that neural networks aren’t fractal (self-similar across various scales) and can’t be by design of how they learn/how data is passed through them. I hypothesize that makes them only understand the scale at which they were trained. For LLM’s/GAN’s of today that usually means a high level overview of a lot of various fields without really knowing the finer grain intricacies all that well (see how LLM’s make up believable sounding but completely fabricated quotes for long writing or how GAN’s mess up hands and text once you zoom in a little bit.

There is definitely more research I want to do into understanding AI and more generally how networks which approximate fractals relate to intellegence/other stuff like quantum physics, sociology, astrophysics, psychology, neuroscience, how math breaks sometimes etc.

That fractal stuff aside, this mental model of generative AI being glorified parrots has helped me understand how AI can seem correct on first glance/zoomed out yet completely fumble on the details. My hope is that this can help others understand AI’s limits better and therefore avoid putting too much trust into to where AI starts to have the opportunity to mess up serious stuff.

Think of the parrot cursing around children without understanding what it’s doing or why it’s wrong to say those words around that particular audience.

In conclusion, I want us to awkwardly and endearingly laugh at the AIs which mimic the squaks of humans rather than take what it says as gospel or as truth.

#generative ai #ai #consciousness #looooonnnggggg #programming #codeblr #philosophy #fractal #fractal theory of everything

[stuckinaf4nfiction]

Took some time to write something personal for the most important person in my life.

“I’d sell my soul if it meant for yours to live.”

Now I have no idea about who said it, in which context it was meant or when it was said. But I just wished to write about it.

There’s something about seeing your loved ones sorrowful, perplexed and dismal when they’re usually so full of love and life and light and all they resemble, reminds you of things that have purpose, have joy, they remind you of the light at the end of the dark tunnel which everyone loathes, they remind you of the butterfly of the—“when all the wars are over, a butterfly will still be a butterfly.”(Ruskin Bond). They remind you of spring. They remind you of a warm beverage of your choice on winter morning served to you in bed. They smell like freshly bloomed summer roses. And all they feel like is love. A love larger than life.

That’s not all the time though. We fight, have differences, yell at each other for the most basic things. Cannot grasp concepts that one likes and the other one doesn’t . Take each other’s stuff all the time and may(or may not) return them back.

But in the end we end up loving one another. Still loving when we change, and even when we don’t. Because we accept each other for who we are. And we love one another just for that.

To my little sister,

I know life has thrown curveballs among the way to what seemed the perfect picture to live amongst, to be found and to be having the time of teenage life and to be in love with just being. I know how harsh life can be and how just overnight it can change. And you know it better than most of us.

And I’m stunned how strong you’ve stood against the tides that life has risen right now. How you’ve emerged as a phoenix from the ashes. How you’ve climbed all the way and are still on the road up. And most importantly how kind and beautiful and caring you’ve been the entire way to others around you and how gracefully you’ve handled it all. How you’ve held it all together. And how you still give me your million bucks smile whenever I see your face.

To @shawty-writes-a-little (the person who taught me tumblr)

For always telling me to look forward no matter what. For seizing me there when I wished to jump off. For holding me up. For holding me down, and for walking side by side with me when I couldn’t do that alone. For holding my hand and holding me when I couldn’t do it myself. For always being there when I needed to close the chapter in the book. For being there when I moved to the next one. For being there when I needed to soak in. For being there when I needed to burn it. And for being there when I needed a new one. For telling me that time is the most powerful thing and once it passes you’re immune to it. Immune to the worst that has happened and then on prepared for the next thing after it. For standing strong in my bad times and for giving your stunning smiles during the good times.

I wish for you to know that I’d always do the same for you too. Be by your side when tides are low and when they’re high. “For you a thousand times over.” (No idea who said that either.)

How many people are lucky to have someone like that? So when I said that, “I’d sell my soul if it meant for yours to live.” I felt that truly. And it made me realise that I’d sell it, in a blink. Even if it meant for you to just do something like drawing or whatever shit that’d make you happy. For you to just smile and breathe. Why?

Because? Just because your hug fixes everything. Because talking to you makes me feel better. Because when no one talks to me you do. Because No one would love me either, but you do. Because No one would tell me how gross I look, you do. And because no one would willingly wanna be with me, sit with me or walk with me, but you do.

Because I love you.

Because not in any lifetime,

would I wanna be, without you.

And that’s how I know,

I’m gods favourite child.

And you’re too,

Because you’ll always have me,

And I you.

I love you for all that you are. And all that you’ll ever be.

🎀So hug your sisters today. Hug them tomorrow. Hug them everyday. On Sunny days, on rainy days. On Mondays and on Wednesdays. On days you love them and definitely on days you hate them. 🎀

#sisterhood #fleabag #sister sister #siblings #you make me go crazy but I love you

[seamstressthepainteater]

I don’t think I really like how The Mandalorian has been MCUified if that makes sense

Like the first season was it’s own thing, Mando went to different places across the galaxy trying to hide some kid he found from remnants of the fallen empire, it was largely its own thing and helped make the Star Wars galaxy seem bigger for me. It also had its own characters that managed to be memorable and interesting. It was a unique take on Star Wars I wanted to see more of.

Then season 2 comes out, and it’s a bit larger scale wise. Mando’s gotta find another Jedi to fulfill his kid’s destiny, which brings him back to going around the galaxy finding leads on one of these Jedi folks. There are a lot of returning characters in this season; most of the surviving season one character show up for at least an episode, Mayfeld gets some damn good characterization as a former imperial after being a one-note asshole in season 1, Ashoka gets an episode to learn more about Grogu and set up her own show, Boba Fett is a looming presence until he actually shows up and fucks shit up, Bo Katan returns with her besties, and even Luke Skywalker is in this bitch. Now I don’t like cameos just for the sake of having them, but the legacy characters at least either have good reason or are done well. Ashoka needs setup for a show, Fett is finally given the chance to be cool as shit, and Bo Katan going from ruler of Mandalore in Rebels to just another pirate gives context to why Gus Fring has the Darksaber (Luke’s just kinda there to be there though). I wouldn’t like to need to watch Clone Wars and Rebels to know what the hell Ashoka, Bo Katan, or the Darksaber are if I didn’t already, but I feel they’re given just enough explanation to make sense without it. And all of it was tied up in an emotional ending with Mando and Grogu that payed off everything set up throughout the season and made the entire thing feel grounded. It was probably the best ending the show could’ve had. This was the last time I would feel this way.

When Book Of Boba Fett was announced at the end of Mando season 2, I was exited. I loved how Boba Fett was handled in Mando and hoped that the show would flesh him out better. It was then that the rug was pulled from under my feet. Like Fredrick Fitzgerald Fazbear coming down upon a poor night guard in the dead of night, I was jumped with the truth of this show. This wasn’t a show about Boba Fett. This was just a season of Mando they shoved Boba Fett on for more runtime.

Theatrics aside, BOBF was just really disappointing to me. The Boba Fett stuff was kinda garbage, they perfected his character in Mando as a brutal goddamn terminator man, then they went back and went “he doesn’t want to be a bounty hunter, he just wants to live peacefully as a crime boss or something” which felt really weird to me. The Flashbacks were also so fucking boring, they could’ve been shorted down to one episode and given more time to Boba. I praised Mando season 2 for both giving legacy characters purpose and explanation so you didn’t need to know what their deal was. But you see, I’m pretty sure Cathleen Kennedy read my complement on that, realized she fucked up by making a story that can stand on its own, used her fucking Disney witch magic to go back in time, and had the guy who worked on the writing for those episodes shot at point blank range because holy shit they fucking shattered the ball with Cad Bane.

The show makes a point of saying that Cad Bane and Boba had a history, and this confused me. They never specified what exactly this history was, so I looked through everything I could get my grubby mits on. I looked through every one of both Bane and Boba’s appearances in Clone Wars, checked comics with Bane, looked through all of the officially released media I thought could be a lead. Then I noticed something about Bane in BOBF, he had a metal plate on his head. This wasn’t much, but I thought it was something, so I went through his animated appearances one more time and noticed he had the same plate in The Bad Batch. This just made me more confused, so I checked around and found it. The “history” the show was referring too. See when they brought back Clone Wars for season 7 they took unfinished arcs and gave them new life, but some were left on the cutting room floor. I said “couldn’t find any officially released material” because what they were alluding too was an unfinished episode, you can even see the part where Bane gets shot in the head. The crux of Bane and Boba’s unfinished business was an unfinished episode that wasn’t even considered canon at that point.

This was my Joker arc.

This show was so lazy, so uncaring about making the story seem complete without supplementary material, that the only thing they did to give the main villain a connection with the hero was a vague allusion to an event that wasn’t even officially released. Could they not have cut some of the boring-ass shit in the desert to flesh out this relationship? Was it too much to ask for this show to get even close to how Mando used it’s legacy characters? Was it too much to ask for competence?

Besides that, I thought that it kinda fucked up the great ending I thought Mando season 2 had. I knew they weren’t gonna be separated for that long, but I would’ve liked them to be apart a bit longer, or have them reunite in their own show. Feel the same way about Mando’s new starfighter, I think it would’ve been less alienating to have him get that in the beginning of season 3

Speaking of season 3, it’s also kinda disappointing. I think the shift from Mando to Bo Katan was disappointing, it’s like what happened to Boba Fett with Mando ironically enough, but it’s still disappointing that in a world where it seems like almost every character is slated for their own show, Bo was shoved into Mando. I also think Gus Fring seems less intimidating, I feel him being a part of this “Shadow Empire” is less threatening than a warlord trying to bring about his own empire. It also has the same problem as BOBF where you need to know stuff beforehand. I don’t think they ever explicitly state Gideon carpet bombed Mandalore, they just kinda said it was cursed. I know it was mentioned in BOBF, but again I shouldn’t need to watch another show to understand what’s going on in this one. I’m not gonna go too long with this one since it’s not over yet, but I’m not sure it’ll fix my problems with this season.

Anyway my biggest takeaway from this is that I hate Book of Boba Fett way more than I first thought.

#star wars #the mandolarian #book of boba fett #first thing tomorrow I’m gonna punch Cad Bane in the back of the head

[thesynthesist]

Fred Jones has to be white?

or: Some show runners for Velma said some dumb stuff and now I wanna talk about it.

So FIRST OFF: I haven’t watched Velma, I have no intention of doing so and I’m writing this because I saw the show runners say something in an interview clip during a critique video that I thought was very silly and perhaps a little rude. 

The statement was essentially that they’d race swapped the cast of the Scooby gang with the exception of Fred because his character was in in some ways just so white. So Fred is in the show as a rich white guy.

And quite frankly I don’t get that at all. I don’t see it. So let’s talk about Fred!

In the Scooby-doo franchise, Fred Jones is the leader of the gang, and while I’m not a Scooby-Doo expert I’d say it’s fair to say the following are often core components of Fred’s characterization: General Optimism and Good Intentions: It’s not only visually that Fred’s the brightest member of the group, he’s generally of a sunny disposition and looking to help those around him. He seems the most motivated to solve the mysteries out of sense of wanting to do good and to help the people being afflicted by these seemingly supernatural occurrences. His general optimism and faith in his group’s ability to handle whatever they encounter in one way or another helps hold the group together and is part of what makes him a natural fit for the leader position in the group.

A Bit of an Oaf: Fred isn’t portrayed as dim-witted to the point of being incapable but he can often be painfully oblivious and more size and good looks than brain-power. This isn’t an uncommon trope, especially with male characters with larger builds and helps make up part of the comedic element of Fred’s character as well as allow for continued optimism in the majority of situations.

Compassionate and Somewhat Deferential:  While these things don’t necessarily have to go together in a person, with Fred I feel like they do. He’s not unaware as his position of leader of the gang, nor is he unaware that he’s not the smartest person in the group. So he not only values but encourages the contribution of others in the gang and takes a keen interest in their well-being not just because they make it possible for him to continue solving mysteries but because he genuinely cares about them.

There is, of course, more to Fred’s character than that, but I feel like these are the things about Fred that make the strongest impression and one could likely play a bit looser with some of the other things. I don’t think any of these traits are inherently racial portrayal of masculinity.

I don’t believe the visual representation of Fred in terms of clothing or styling is intrinsically white either. First off, especially in a more modern take, hair dye exists and is easy for basically anyone to get and use if they’re near a pharmacy. Even if someone wanted to keep Fred’s blonde hair, there’s no reason he needs to be white for it.To be quite frank though, I think simply a lighter shade of hair than most of the rest of the cast would do if you wanted to keep him visually brightest all the way up.

The clean white shirt, ascot and bell-bottoms is a dated look for sure, but again, I don’t know why that has to be worn by a white person even if you wanted to keep the ascot. I can think of several reasons why someone might wear an ascot in this day an age. Such as being from a very conservative or religious household that wants their children to look well done up, or perhaps being from from a less privileged group (ex: an impoverished person) in an environment run by and largely catered to a more privileged group (ex: a private school) where to avoid discrimination looking well-dressed is important. Perhaps both.

Alternatively, people can just enjoy wearing ascots regularly. People like that do exist.

[Edit] was talking with a friend and they mentioned Fred always struck them as blue collar. AND WOULDN’T YOU KNOW IT HIS COLLAR IS BLUE. So definitely not rich, jot that down.

#I just... I don't know what they were trying to say with that #I mean they could have just wanted to keep him white to make him the butt of a bunch of jokes #but what are the implications of saying he's an intrinsically white character #not that there seems to be anything but missed opportunities in that show but it could have been neat to see a nuanced take on Fred #as a person of colour #scooby doo #velma #fred jones