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99thpercentile · 1 month

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places where the audio distorts

image ids under the cut

tmagp 4:

tmagp 5:

tmagp 7:

tmagp 8:

the audio distorts when people lie.

I imagine this knowledge will come in handy later.

[id: ALICE: This is not something you go poking around in. Not if you want to keep your job… or your neck. SAM: (a little amused) Okay, okay! I get it. Consider me scared straight. "Consider me scared straight" is highlighted. end id]

[id: LENA: Now, while I understand your concerns, you need to understand that Colin has held the IT Manager position for some time without incident, and although he is somewhat… frustrated with his current assignment, he can request help from the central IT team at any time. I am certain that should he find his responsibilities unmanageable, he will request assistance. Or resign, of course. Either way, the problem will resolve itself. "Or resign, of course" is highlighted. end id]

[id: CELIA: Is there any way to look up specific files? ALICE: Like what? CELIA: Oh, I don’t know. Every case about… being buried alive, or meat, or… whatever. ALICE: Well, there’s a search bar, but it doesn’t actually do anything. You’d have to dig through them all manually. (suspicious) – Why do you ask? CELIA: Just figuring it all out. Ah well, I guess I’ll need to find Bigfoot on my own time. "Just figuring it all out" is highlighted. end id]

[id: GERTRUDE: I see. Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t think Gerry can help you – GERRY: (casually) Yeah, I barely remember any of it. "I don’t think Gerry can help you" is highlighted. end id]

[id: GERRY: Oh yeah, but I was pretty young. I remember filling in a bunch of forms and questionnaires, then some old men asking me questions about what books I liked to read, who did I look up to, that kind of thing. And then I left. SAM: (disappointed) That’s all? GERRY: Yeah, afraid so. Other than just sitting around with a bunch of other kids in a room that smelled like old books. "Yeah, afraid so" is highlighted. end id]

[id: CELIA: I’m trying to look into… Weird physics stuff: time travel, other dimensions, teleportation, all that good stuff. Freddy doesn’t really do searches, so you could keep an eye out and let me know if any come up in your cases? SAM: Uh, sounds a bit sci-fi compared to our usuals. What’s this for? (amused breath) You’re not doing research for that podcast you were on, are you? CELIA: (surprised) You know about that? SAM: I might have given you a quick Google. CELIA: Then… yeah. I’m doing a favor for Georgie. "yeah. I’m doing a favor for Georgie" is highlighted. end id]

#tmagp #The Magnus Protocol #tmagp theories #tmagp spoilers #original #most of these are relatively easy to clock as lies regardless #which makes sense. they need to be for us to notice the pattern and apply it later #but it does tell us for sure that Colin can't quit #or maybe he can but he won't be able to work anywhere else like Teddy?#in any case he (and possibly the rest?) can't quit in a meaningful way #if you find any I missed please let me know!!#why is this happening? who knows! Beholding thing maybe?

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mumblesplash · 4 months

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part 2!!!! [read part one here]

transcript below the cut arranged into stanzas to help show where the rhymes are:

“that’s why they brought gem in? as a failsafe?” as a pawn. we were told to point her at whoever we need gone

“gem won’t hurt her allies. …yet.” the curse she carries will it’s had its eye on her since she lost the other eye she was specially selected for her hunting skill it’s quite the high honor. “wow. how generous.” we try

think about it: why does almost no one fight the curse? “given how fast scott killed skizz last season, i can guess.” [“any pain you spare your friends, you’ll have to suffer worse”?] it’s designed to shut down higher reasoning with stress

#if you still can't see the rhyme scheme try reading it out loud #if that doesn't work uh. idk. can't help you #my art #grian #geminitay #smajor1995 #bdoubleo100 #inthelittlewood #secret life #grian and his terrible horrible no good very bad eldritch coworkers: the sequel #cant wait to post the next part so i can be like 'my three secret life comics. and yes they all rhyme'#this one narratively doesn't work nearly as well as a standalone compared to part 1 #however i accidentally went way too hard and could probably upload the middle page + second to last panel as their own separate art pieces #tbh i'm considering putting an explanation of everything below the readmore buuut i don't feel like it atm. :3 later maybe #me and my 20+ life series headcanons i only allude to without explicitly stating don't need to explain ourselves #still experimenting with this webtoon-esque vertical comic style #still not sure i like it #it gets long too quickly #among other things #but it's very easy to read on a phone so

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thebiscuitlabryinth · 2 months

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something something pure vanilla learning more about shadow milk, digging up his past and finding the remnants left behind, connecting the legends around the academy back to this Beast and slowly unearthing more and more fragments until he can put together a haphazard image

something something shadow milk acting less erratic around him in their mind encounters, engaging him in intelletual debate and philosophical questions, almost seeming to settle every once in while with the enrichment of conversation. pure vanilla slowly starting to gather hope that, maybe, the Beasts can be saved, even if he doesn't tell anyone

something something pure vanilla falling in love with a version of someone that is long dead, a heartache he knows too well but can't seem to prevent, and paying for it

(something something shadow milk loving pure vanilla, but not in a way that would ever be compatible with pure vanilla, the way he is now)

#this is sort of what inspired my previous fic (and i might elaborate on it later too)#but i was just thinking on how you can possibly write sv as explicitly romantic #while still keeping the characterisation canon adjacent. canon parallel if you will #more specifically with pv's pov because. it's pretty easy to shadowvanilla from sm's pov because he is. a freak (affectionate)#but this is the only way i can see it working from pv's pov (that doesn't also involve watering sm down too much)#and i have to clarify that THIS WOULD NOT BE HEALTHY. THIS WOULD BE A TRAGIC TRAIN WRECK #but it would be SO fascinating to watch #hm. i may have to make this an au actually. i'll get back to you guys on that #anyway pv has a type and it is doomed scholar driven to madness by the pursuit and power of knowledge :)#shadowvanilla

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snuggleboots · 4 months

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♡ in which i'm still having big feelings about kisame. naturally, i'm cramming the reader into said big feelings. have some genin and newly-graduated chunin kisame and reader, his one and only friend (´。＿。｀) it's dark, lots of death, so huge dni to minors. ♡

♡ might make this a dumb little series of drabbles, maybe? i'm sure as hell not dropping a whole thing in one post when it turned entirely into a chunin selection thing. it's choppy, probs has mistakes, but that's because i wrote it here and i am dogshit tired and slightly scared to post smth i just roughed out here :' ) ♡

Tags: kid kisame (6-10), kid reader (6-10), reader-insert, canon/reader friendship, dark themes, such as kiri's chunin selection, mentioned child deaths (the chunin selection), angst, shock/trauma.

It's a death of spirit, slow to manifest, to make your home in another person. The innocence of youth was never something fostered in the Land of Water, reclusive and cutthroat was the village that stands bastion in the heart of the island nation. Those of the Mist learn young that survival is a series of little deaths, each one an intangible shepherd to the next that awaits them.

Kirigakure, where connection is granted to budding shinobi for the sake of becoming one of life's many harsh lessons. It's when you're small, and your childish sense of hope is somehow still naïve and alive, that something so treasured as a comrade is allowed to be anything more than a means to an end. Sharing meals, and clinging to life by the skin of your teeth through missions too gruesome for children so young, one's genin team is often one's first true taste of friendship.

He was so young when you met, six years old at best; a competitive thing- oblivious of his own strength and rough at times, but fierce in his loyalty. It started then, a boy with a gruff heart too big for his body, and a sawtooth grin that looked more frightening than he ever bothered to actually be. He was your friend, with cute ears that stuck out and gills that sometimes flared in a way that made you helpless but to laugh, and an unyielding sense of self-assurance that made missions less frightening, so long as it was him that fought at your side.

Hoshigaki Kisame was not a monster. Not as you knew him.

Companions in a shared misery back then, you were each other's determined and desperate support through the trials of your paths; assurances shared with conviction carried you through the horrors that no heart so soft as yours should ever have been forced to witness. You wanted to heal, he strove to conquer the art of blades.

Children are, unfortunately, as precious as they are blind, and their pride is earned hard through enduring that which would cull their lessers. Together though, there was nothing that could stop the unbeatable two that made him and you. It was a connection found only by the miracle of chance, a friendship forged through the four years shared as junior shinobi. Your sensei, your third man - they existed beyond the bubble of two.

You were children together, once.

But in the Bloody Mist, you fight or you die. It was a death of heart to swallow the fear in your throat when it came time for selection. Ten years old by then; it was cold that day, and the pit in your stomach was nearly all-consuming when Kisame bid you the first of many goodbyes. 'Just in case', he'd said - his voice quiet, and heavier than you'd ever heard it then - just in case one of you failed to survive. It was better to say goodbye now than risk losing his chance if it had come down to facing you.

Through the chūnin selection your three-man squad became a bitterly victorious two-man cell. It was only a small mercy given to you by chance that you weren't forced to face Kisame, and not yet was he forced to turn his strength on his team. He survived by the ferocity of his blade whereas you weathered the terrified betrayal of your third man, a soft-spoken boy no older than you. A tracker - or, at least he would have been.

Surviving that was the first time you saw Kisame's eyes feral and searching, his developing muscles drawn taut and teeth bared like a wild animal as he tore through the small ceremony of fellow children-turned-soldiers that had proved their mettle in the slaughter, each newly minted journeymen shinobi drenched in the blood of their friends.

Some were too stunned from the shock of their own actions, most too numb to react to the Hoshigaki boy who sought you out like one drowning sought the ocean's surface. There was no pretence of honour or achievement to be found in the way his hands, still slick and stinking of iron, had gripped your shoulders when he finally found you, as if you were the only tether he had left to anything good.

Neither of you smiled that day. There was no crooked grin that greeted you there, and no stifled tittering that followed the frenzied flaring of his gills to welcome him in turn, not that time. Finding each other through the bloodshed as official chūnin, you both learned that no amount of conditioning could have prepared either of you for the reality of taking the lives of your compatriots. It felt different, somehow more visceral, compared to cutting down someone marked an enemy.

Kill or be killed, neither of you had any other choice. That day would not be the one that marked his end, nor your own. Not yet - he was manic and peaked, you were despondent and spiralling - not yet. You weren't ready. He wasn't ready. Not yet. It was a shame that you weren't built for killing, and an even greater one that Kisame's concept of a comrade, that day, began chipping down to you. You became the exception.

Fear is something any child is bound to experience in life; a crawling dread felt in their bones when something goes bump in the night. It wasn't fear he had felt, and he was a child no longer when he emerged as one of the several victorious. No, the young swordsman-to-be was a selfish boy, he knew, because what he felt when he'd shoved his face into your hair and squished his nose into the crown of your head was the shameful sensation of relief. So many had died horrible, gruesome deaths - but not you. You lived, you breathed, you were shaking like a leaf and staring through him, but at least you were alive.

He was surely broken, and at that point so were you, but at least you had survived.

Your body moved through the motions of a person after the fact, while each champion was recognised, your stare one thousand yards detached from the moment when the weight of your certificate soaked up the death from your killing hands. You hadn't had it a moment, hadn't had the chance to exchange it for your hitai-ate, and already it was marked with blood. You were meant to feel proud, strong for having outwitted and overpowered the others, too weak to serve the village - yet, you'd felt sick. Bile burned the back of your throat, swallowed down hard while your brain marked you a hypocrite that day, despite the ceremony of congratulations thrown in the faces of you and your peers.

It was a blur, what little remained of that day. You have no memory now, nor did you then, of dragging yourself to the baths, but you know that every time you closed your eyes you saw the faces of those you'd defeated. Their faces stricken with panic or wet with desperate tears, voices squeaky or hoarse in their last moments - your kunai buried deep in the throat of your squadmate, his tantō skewered through the fleshy part of your waist. Pain, in every manner of which it existed.

No matter how desperately you'd scrubbed, your skin left raw and burning, your breathing haggard and unbearably tight, the blood never seemed to wash clean from your hands. Kisame was a persistent one, perceptive for his age and unwilling to part while his brain somehow struggled to rationalise that you lived, even if you'd left his sight. He'd scrubbed your back and bid the little comfort of his company - a silent sentinel that never once mentioned the strangled sobs that wracked your body when finally, you'd worn through what little energy you had left.

You couldn't understand why you cried.

And he had no answer as to why you didn't feel clean - he didn't either, though it bothered him somewhat less than it did you. Then, he'd never had as optimistic an ambition as yourself. His path was always of the sword.

You'd managed to patch your own wounds, and then Kisame's - because that was meant to be your path. The medic, the healer, a preserver of life. The death of hope was dealt through the cold realisation that you would never truly be that. At least, not in this lifetime. Not like this.

You were naïve to have ever thought that the path of a medic was above the demand of bloodshed.

It was he who helped you fix your clothes when your fingers refused to, no words exchanged when he pulled you under his arm and guided you from the baths - it was good, at least, that you'd washed up before heading for home. The silence shared between you, then, remained unbroken out of respect for those unfortunate dead. Loyal to a fault, and in search of an excuse to be near, he'd helped you back to the tiny apartment you called your own.

You felt many things that he didn't, then - but it didn't make you weak. You survived selection, you'd survive this too, he knew.

Your home was empty, polluted with noise from the market district beyond your windows, inhabited at that point only by yourself - still a child, yet so alone. Long had the Land of Water suffered civil wars - and your parents' lives were claimed somewhere along the line, but at the very least he was there. This world had no shortage of children orphaned, and like you, there was no one left alive to have awaited his return.

His home was with you. At least, it was then.

You were children together, once.

That day, through a series of deaths both tangible and in spirit, began the first of many goodbyes. To childhood, to juvenile altruism, and to the hope of most things good.

But not Kisame.

Kisame was not a monster, not then, at least. Not ever when you knew him.

#kisame #kisame x reader #akatsuki #naruto #naruto x reader #writing tag #kisame hoshigaki #reader insert #the night we met by lord huron carried me thru this one #really want to work on making my writing more narrative rather than w/e it usually ends up being ugh #also want to write some comfort as an addition to this but that'll come later maybe #this is dark - but i cannot see anyone having a good time in the bloody mist era #i rly dont think they went easy on their genin given the whole - y'know - chunin selection being what it is

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pollenallergie · 7 months

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“do the hardest task first”

no. just… no.

hot take: this doesn’t work for people with adhd (in my experience/from what i’ve heard from other people with adhd in my life). i recommend doing the easy/moderately difficult stuff first, that way you can convince yourself that it’s all going to be this easy and undemanding. then hyper-focus will kick in because your brain is like, “yeah, we can do this, we’ve got this.” then, before you know it, you’ve completed both the easy tasks and the hard tasks while hyperfocusing.

like, on a serious note, it’s always been easier for me to convince myself to get the most difficult tasks done when i’m already working/in the working frame of mind, not when i’m laying in bed or sitting on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through stuff on my phone, and struggling to start at all.

if the choice comes down to you not starting at all or starting with the easiest task first (which, for me, it often does), always, always pick starting with the easiest task first. sometimes you need a small victory, a little bit of an accomplishment, to give you the courage to take on bigger challenges.

#adhd #audhd #in my experience… ‘study tips’ or ‘time management tips’ from neurotypical people will almost never work for us #they don’t conceptualize time the same way we do #they don’t look at challenges the same way we do #it’s okay to take bits and pieces of their advice #ya know… whatever parts of it work for you #but don’t think that you have to use all the strategies and programs that they do to be successful #because you don’t #all that fake business soft skills/mental health guru/grind mindset stuff is total bullshit #pick strategies that speak to/work for you #it’s okay to fail at things and to have to try again #it’s okay to make mistakes and not get shit done sometimes #sometimes you need a fucking break #it’s okay to start with the easy stuff first and just ease your way into being productive #it’s okay to hyperfocus and work for hours on end sometimes #if it’s hard for you to take breaks when you’re studying and you feel like you learn better if you stay in that hyperfocused zone #than just go until the hyperfocus wears off #then take a break… eat… nourish your body… take care of yourself… and come back later #maybe later is later on that day #maybe later is tomorrow #either way is completely fine #do what works best for you #work with your neurodivergent brain… no against it #pol’s diary <3

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batbirdies · 6 months

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You know I use Pinterest to browse recipes and find crochet patterns and keep track of crafty ideas and occasionally for hair styling videos or gift ideas.

But dear god it’s become almost unusable because of ads. And I don’t just mean the amount of them. I am SO TIRED of the beauty ads they’re insane. It’s no wonder women have low self esteem and much worse when I come across ads that are for (and these are just off the top of my head):

A machine that gets rid of cellulite, red light therapy for your under eye bags, makeup that matches your skin tone, hair extensions, eye lash extensions, lip plumper, electric muscle contractors for your face to make your cheek bones stand out more, teeth whiteners, volumizing hair products, Invisalign braces, similar retainer like things that make your teeth look straight, products to make your hair thicker, products to make your hair grow longer, laser hair removal, diet programs, work out programs, exercises that supposedly target the fat in one specific part of your body (do not get me started), custom vitamins to target problems like hair loss and acne, collagen threads (????), so MANY goddamn leggings that make your ass look bigger, body suits that make your waist smaller, goddamn pheromone perfume??

And this is just what I can think of off the top of my head I feel like I’m being purposely driven mad.

#does anyone have good alternatives to Pinterest #I’m frustrated because I like how easy it is to use #to create boards and keep stuff organized #and find things later #and the search function works decently #but my god #if there’s something by like this without the insane ads please tell me

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nana2009 · 1 month

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yandere Dave first realization he liked karkat drawing?

probably here? with so much evidence he couldn't lie to himself anymore even if he tried!