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soundbulb · 6 months

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it makes sense to me that maggie is the one capable of saying something cutting to rust, if only by being the only woman in his life who isn't dead. the whole crux of the conflict, in terms of the state of the soul of true detective, is rust and marty's denial that all men's weakness, sadism, beliefs, mistakes disproportionately destroys the lives of women and children, and the men who do it get to just keep truckin, sometimes with guilt heaped on. they just get away with it over and over and it kills women and girls. I think of rust's, "she sounds sad, marty, like a person on their last legs" about dora after visiting the bunny ranch. how dora was predated on by her father ("why wouldn't a father bathe his child?"), ended up with charlie lang, and was then marked as a target because charlie showed her naked pictures to his cellmate who he hated.

marty's whole hang up is just a classic cop one. he's the good guy and he hunts the bad guys. rust doesn't think he's the good guy, he's just another bad guy hunting bad guys, but that's still denial. when he passes a tide of hallow rationalizations to maggie, they suddenly sound like exactly what they are. normally rust has been monologuing to male audiences -- papania, marty -- who balk and seem defensive or quietly suspicious, but when maggie is the audience you realize rust actually sounds exactly like marty giving his stupid "you gotta decompress" schtick. she's not hung up on any of his actual ideas, doesn't take a single one seriously, because it turns out they're a baby blanket. in rust's phrasing, they're just the encouragement of illusion so he can get through his reality. that scene coming so soon after rust saying, "when I think of my daughter, what she was spared." he just can't do it yet. despite all his efforts, he just can't look at anything head on, not until the end, when he's in that syrupy blackness experiencing his loved ones. he only edges up to the truth, keeping himself mostly at arms length. he gets right on top of it in that same monologue, "she spared me the sin of being a father." the death of women in girls in this season are redemptive; the childress' seem to use them as some kind of baptism. when they're not around to destroy, the men who destroy them are spared of being the men who destroy them.

marty is always under the impression his intentions are good. "was that a down payment?" and marty chews him out for "joking" about his moment of decency, but it was absolutely a down payment. rust clocked it correctly, most of the reason marty was mad was because he was attracted to beth, and he started blustering some rhetoric and then gives beth a twenty, hissing out a white hot, "do something else," like an accusation. but marty goes through all the motions of a hero, so to beth he looks like one. he slaps his daughter and calls her a slut for doing the kinds of things he does with women. he beats on the men she was with so he can feel like a Father and a Hero then vomits in front of his car because it was all just clumsy violence and cowardice. rust knows he isn't doing any good, but he still wants some of that redemption; he tells maggie his little screed about man-woman drama because he wants her to accept it. he knows the women and girls pay more to live in the same world, they don't get away with just existing while men get away with it all, but knowing that doesn't bring him any closer to looking at it head on. he's still asking maggie for something: accept it, get on the same page, spare me, and maggie says no, at least right then. eventually she does, then ultimately she doesn't.

anyway, I think it's interesting how different it feels to hear rust say what he says in that scene. you suddenly realize exactly how his words fall on the ears of reality. "at the end of the day you duck behind rationalizations just like the rest of them."

#true detective #rust cohle #htl #ht

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shituationist · 4 months

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assuaging my anxieties about machine learning over the last week, I learn that despite there being about ten years of doom-saying about the full automation of radiomics, there's actually a shortage of radiologists now (and, also, the machine learning algorithms that are supposed to be able to detect cancers better than human doctors are very often giving overconfident predictions). truck driving was supposed to be completely automated by now, but my grampa is still truckin' and will probably get to retire as a trucker. companies like GM are now throwing decreasing amounts of money at autonomous vehicle research after throwing billions at cars that can just barely ferry people around san francisco (and sometimes still fails), the most mapped and trained upon set of roads in the world. (imagine the cost to train these things for a city with dilapidated infrastructure, where the lines in the road have faded away, like, say, Shreveport, LA).

we now have transformer-based models that are able to provide contextually relevant responses, but the responses are often wrong, and often in subtle ways that require expertise to needle out. the possibility of giving a wrong response is always there - it's a stochastic next-word prediction algorithm based on statistical inferences gleaned from the training data, with no innate understanding of the symbols its producing. image generators are questionably legal (at least the way they were trained and how that effects the output of essentially copyrighted material). graphic designers, rather than being replaced by them, are already using them as a tool, and I've already seen local designers do this (which I find cheap and ugly - one taco place hired a local designer to make a graphic for them - the tacos looked like taco bell's, not the actual restaurant's, and you could see artefacts from the generation process everywhere). for the most part, what they produce is visually ugly and requires extensive touchups - if the model even gives you an output you can edit. the role of the designer as designer is still there - they are still the arbiter of good taste, and the value of a graphic designer is still based on whether or not they have a well developed aesthetic taste themself.

for the most part, everything is in tech demo phase, and this is after getting trained on nearly the sum total of available human produced data, which is already a problem for generalized performance. while a lot of these systems perform well on older, flawed, benchmarks, newer benchmarks show that these systems (including GPT-4 with plugins) consistently fail to compete with humans equipped with everyday knowledge.

there is also a huge problem with the benchmarks typically used to measure progress in machine learning that impact their real world use (and tell us we should probably be more cautious because the human use of these tools is bound to be reckless given the hype they've received). back to radiomics, some machine learning models barely generalize at all, and only perform slightly better than chance at identifying pneumonia in pediatric cases when it's exposed to external datasets (external to the hospital where the data it was trained on came from). other issues, like data leakage, make popular benchmarks often an overoptimistic measure of success.

very few researchers in machine learning are recognizing these limits. that probably has to do with the academic and commercial incentives towards publishing overconfident results. many papers are not even in principle reproducible, because the code, training data, etc., is simply not provided. "publish or perish", the bias journals have towards positive results, and the desire of tech companies to get continued funding while "AI" is the hot buzzword, all combined this year for the perfect storm of techno-hype.

which is not to say that machine learning is useless. their use as glorified statistical methods has been a boon for scientists, when those scientists understand what's going on under the hood. in a medical context, tempered use of machine learning has definitely saved lives already. some programmers swear that copilot has made them marginally more productive, by autocompleting sometimes tedious boilerplate code (although, hey, we've had code generators doing this for several decades). it's probably marginally faster to ask a service "how do I reverse a string" than to look through the docs (although, if you had read the docs to begin with would you even need to take the risk of the service getting it wrong?) people have a lot of fun with the image generators, because one-off memes don't require high quality aesthetics to get a chuckle before the user scrolls away (only psychopaths like me look at these images for artefacts). doctors will continue to use statistical tools in the wider machine learning tool set to augment their provision of care, if these were designed and implemented carefully, with a mind to their limitations.

anyway, i hope posting this will assuage my anxieties for another quarter at least.

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sistervirtue · 1 year

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YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS

welcome to sistervirtue dot tumblr dot com. those of you who have read my url...seen my icon...may be wondering: who is this woman? who is Sister Virtue?

as the @original-character-championship bracket begins, I would like to take the time to introduce you to her. go on. take a seat.

[art credit: @/omusubigender, @/citrus-sours, @/kkbardd, @/pcktknife, @/celebiis, @/citrus-sours]

Sister Virtue is a not-quite woman not-quite of the cloth with a bit of a scowl and an unholy attitude problem. Formerly a cherub known as Theophania serving in the appellate choirs of heaven, she judged human souls and debated the dogma of heaven day in and day out.

Although a perfect machine of heaven, Theophania was not heartless. Through her friendship with the Archangel Gabriel, whom represents human souls and their interests in the courts of heaven, she learned about those she judged.

And I am going to let you in on a secret. Angels and demons are both creatures of passion, just their passion turns in different ways. Demons experience passion for the self. Angels turn their passion towards God. And for Theophania, her passion turned in a different way-- towards those silly little animals whom she watched day in and day out. (Even you!)

So when Gabriel came lamenting of the Seraphim's decision to bring forth the end of humanity, she may have done something a bit drastic. Drastic like stealing the Eye of God, an important artifact containing the summation of all knowledge, and then slamming it into her own skull in order to hold it hostage and kick up enough of a fuss that the angels acquiesced and agreed to come to some sort of truce. The ultimate blasphemy.

She would be felled. If she cared so much about those silly, stupid animals, she could spend the rest of eternity proving they were worth it. Shoved into a body made of flesh and her powers largely sealed behind seven penances, Sister Virtue is tasked with protecting humanity from all threats divine or diabolic. She cannot die; [officially banned to prevent any loopholes or complicated litigation later] but she can give up... but doing so would mean damning all of humanity in the entire process.

After crash-landing into a convent and taking the administrative lead of the attached school (now known as Eschaton Academy) Sister Virtue is establishing a network of those both blessed and possessed to aid her in the arduous process of keeping people safe, all while trying to figure out what it means to be human herself.

So Why should you vote for her?

Let's face it, we're not in high school any more.

Coming of age stories for teens are fun, but sometimes... you don't really start coming of age until your 20's, 30's, 40's... Virtue, 37 human years old, is here to show the journey of growing into your skin even if that comes after high school.

2. She's hot as hell.

A nun in her work uniform, Sister Virtue at heart is a truckin', smokin', wrestlin' uncle of a woman, and her casual attitude and casual attire reflect this. And let's face it. A woman who hates wearing shirts and has a happy trail is a god-sent gift for all of us.

[art credit @ koiiluvz]

3. She's just a bit weird.

She named her car (a self-"upgraded" hearse) the Popemobile. She smokes cigarettes because she likes the taste. She doesn't mind nudity, but gets shy eating in public because digestion is just a little too intimate for an angel. She loves paperwork. Sometimes she regurgitates the angel equivalent of a hairball.

4. Don't know about all this original universe lore? She's got a D&D Iteration.

You can find her character sheet here-- She;s a tanky fallen aasimar paladin with 3 different ways to intimidate. Because you don't even need a gun with an attitude like hers.

5. She'd vote for you

At the end of the day, Sister Virtue is someone who runs on love. Love for all of humanity. Including you. Even if you don't believe in Virtue, virtue believes in you, and you should believe in you too.

Questions? Concerns? Comments? Check out my eschaton academy tag. Or pop into my inbox or dms.

(she even has emotes. art credit @/pcktknife, @/citrus-sours, and @/GR4FF1T1 [on toyhouse] )

#eschaton academy #sister virtue #VIRTUESWEEP2023

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savage-kult-of-gorthaur · 1 month

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SPACE TRUCKIN' IN THE SUPER-SEVENTIES -- "LOVE MACHINE" EDITION.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on the Love Machine: a George Barris custom van of the late 1970s (with model). It was reportedly also made into a Hot Wheels toy, but quickly pulled from shelves when parents complained.

MINI-OVERVIEW: "It could surprise no one that George Barris, Hollywood’s King of the Kustomizers, was a leading player on on the themed show-rod scene. His Love Machine, built on a 1966 Dodge Tradesman chassis, cashed in on the ’70s custom van craze with a revolving bed and red velvet everywhere, and the plastic model kit version horrified mothers across America. In 1977, Barris repackaged his creation in red, blue, and silver as the Super Van, and it still exists in that form today."

-- MOTOR CITY GARAGE, "Five Fabulous Hot Rod Show Cars that Defied Taste and Logic," posted on November 26, 2016

Sources: www.pinterest.com/pin/182325484905847424 & Flickr.

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the-hottest-band-tournament · 2 days

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Round one

TISM

Formed in: 1982

Genres: Alternative rock

Lineup: Ron Hitler-Barassi- vocals

Humphrey B Flaubert- drums, vocals

Jock Cheese- bass, vocals

Eugene de la Hot Croix Bun- keyboard, vocals

Leak Van Vlalen- guitars

Genre B. Good- Vocals

Jon St. Peenis- Saxophone, Vocals

Les Miserables- dancer

Albums from the 80s:

This Is Serious Mum (Demo tape, 1984)

Form And Meaning Reach Ultimate Communion (1986)

Punt Road (Demo tape, 1987)

Great Truckin' Songs of the Renaissance (1988)

Propaganda: You can say TISM are a joke or a gimmick, except their music's good. They combine catchy tunes with dark sarcastic lyrics. Their true identities are hidden, as they always wear disguises such as balaclavas, goon-bag outfits, giant foam paintings, and signs with the names of Beatles. They've been suspected of being high school teachers, The Wiggles, or football players. It's also suggested it's a statement about the dehumanising nature of modern society, or about fame and the cult of personality in rock, or a Brechtian alienation technique. But really it's just because they're kind of boring guys. Their first public performance in 1983 was called the Get Fucked Concert and was both their debut and farewell performance, so every single time they've performed since then they call it a "reunion show". In 1986 they released the single Defecate on My Face in a sleeve with all four sided glued shut so you can't get to the record, and their next single 40 Years - The Death was released on transparent vinyl in a clear plastic sleeve with no art or labels. They like to be a bit silly.

Crack the Sky

Formed in: "early 1970s" according to wikipedia, first album in 1975

Genres: Prog rock

Lineup: John Palumbo — Lead vocal, guitars, bass guitar, piano

Rick Witkowski — Guitars, drums, IBM Selectric II, back-up vocals

Vince DePaul – Synthesizer, electronic keyboards

Albums from the 80s:

Classic Crack (1980)

White Music (1980)

Photoflamingo (1981)

World in Motion 1 (1983)

The End (1984)

Raw (1986)

From the Greenhouse (1989)

Propaganda:

#round 1 #tism #crack the sky #Ron hitler-barassi #Humphrey b flaubert #Jock cheese #Eugene de la Hot Croix Bun #Leak Van Vlalen #Genre B. Good #Jon St. Peenis #les mierables #john palumbo #Rick witkowski #Vince de paul #the hottest 80s tournament #the hottest 80s band tourney #tumblr polls #poll

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girlfromthecrypt · 10 months

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My dog and I just had the shittiest road trip.

I’m in a long distance relationship with my partner of four years. They live a seven hour drive from me, and every weekend, I pack up my things, load up the truck and go on the long-ass trip it takes me to see them. By now, I’m used to the potholes, the traffic jams, the impromptu bladder stops and horrendous gas station bathrooms. Now, I love my partner so it’s all worth it to me, but goddamn, the roads are crappy. It doesn’t help that they live off-the-grid, in a hard to find spot. The drive can actually be sort of dangerous sometimes.

Due to personal reasons, my partner can’t join me at my place in the city and even though I want to eventually move in with them, moving out into the sticks would just murder my career right now. It’s a frustrating situation and our only option is basically to hang on and wait for our circumstances to change. Until then, every Friday afternoon and every Sunday night, it’s “truckin’ time” for my dog and me. That’s what I’ve come to call these long car rides, and last Friday was about the worst one so far.

It started innocently enough. I hurled my bag into the back of my vehicle and whistled for my Borzoi. “Pasha! Truckin’ time!”

This has become a specific command for Pasha, and each time he hears it, he comes barreling towards me at high speed and leaps onto the passenger seat. Over the years, it’s turned into this practiced performance of ours. I open the door at exactly the right time for him to land the perfect jump, all in one elegant, fluid motion. Not to brag, but we’re a great team; it’s almost like a circus act. And Pasha is wonderful company. He’s sweet and doesn’t mind curling up next to me while I drive, as long as I occasionally give him a treat and stop for walks, pees and cuddles.

Okay, there was that one time when we got stuck in traffic. It was a hot day and stressful as hell, and he decided out of the blue that the best thing to get my mind off the jam was to loudly sing me the song of his people; but other than that, he’s the best.

So this Friday, we did our little circus act, I strapped him into his restraint and we got on our way. Everything was going smoothly. The first two hours, we drove freely and unhindered. I was in a fairly good mood when I pulled over at a rest stop for Pasha to stretch those long, spindly legs of his. We walked a couple paces, he took a good long piss against a trash can while no one was looking, then I took a good long piss against that same trash can because the bastards were charging for restroom usage, and we climbed back into our car for the next stretch.

The following eighty minutes went well enough, but around the one and a half-hour mark, Pasha was getting a bit fidgety. Naturally, I stopped and got him out, but he didn’t do anything. He just stood frozen on the ground beside the truck, staring straight ahead with his tubular nose pointing at something in the distance up ahead. Following his gaze, I couldn’t spot anything out of the ordinary. After several minutes of me trying to figure out what had him so uneasy, I decided I didn’t have time for this. I got him to hop back in and we drove on. There was a tunnel coming up in about two hundred-something meters, and by the time I reached it, mine was the only car on the road. What few others had been in front of me had taken the exit off to the right shortly before.

So we headed into the tunnel. Totally normal. We always took this route, I basically knew it by heart at that point. It’s not like I had some kind of phobia or fear of tunnels, but for some reason, I felt extremely apprehensive all of a sudden. I purposefully slowed down, rolling up to the entrance at a tempered pace. The concrete arch looked very much like a dark maw to me at that moment. I was a tad ashamed of myself, really; I had no idea why I was so skittish when I had passed this same stretch of road hundreds of times before. It was nothing new to me, and yet, my skin erupted into gooseflesh as I got closer and closer to the tunnel.

And that’s when I saw it.

It was only there for a split second, but my weary eyes caught a glimpse of something that looked like an enormous hand. Six long, thin, coal-black fingers had gripped onto the outer edge of the concrete arch, and I spotted them just in time as they peeled off and withdrew, vanishing into the darkness inside. For a moment, my brain got “hung up”, just… temporarily stopped working as it tried to process the image my sense of vision had sent up to it. I gaped at the now still, unmoving, unsuspecting opening ahead of me, and before I could bring my car to a stop, I had already rolled on into the tunnel.

Pasha lost it. The second the concrete had swallowed us, he started howling and barking, frantically tossing his head and pounding the faded leather seat with his paws. He’d risen to his full height, or rather the extent of it the limited space of the truck and his restraint allowed, and he was raising hell. I couldn’t blame him. I was at a complete loss, and a part of me desperately wanted to hold onto the hope that what I had seen had merely been an illusion created by an overactive imagination and eyestrain. I didn’t stay in denial for long. Pasha kept pointing his snout up like he was trying to get my attention, and when I finally put two and two together, I remembered that I had a sunroof.

I tipped my head back, looking through the glass at the ceiling of the tunnel outside, only for my heart to jump into my throat. There was something staring in at me, two wide eyes meeting mine. It was about five or six times the size of a person and of humanoid shape, but absolutely emaciated. Its skin was dark, not the normal kind of dark but literal jet black, and it didn’t appear to have a single hair on its head. The thing was clinging to the round top of the concrete corridor, its giant body curled up and flattened against the curve of the tunnel. I only managed to catch a quick peek at it before I instinctively whipped my head back down and stepped on the gas.

My truck lurched forward. The engine howled, Pasha howled. I howled. I was gripped by raw, naked terror; the hands with which I was clutching the steering wheel were laced with cold sweat and my chest felt as though it was going to burst. The light at the end of the tunnel was becoming brighter, bigger, closer, my unblinking gaze trained on it as I sped towards it for dear life. Glancing up through the sunroof, I could spot the creature scuttling across the length of the ceiling, its movements almost resembling those of a large spider. Squeezing the last possible bit of effort from my wailing truck, I tightened my grip on the wheel, knuckles turning white as a quiet prayer passed my lips.

The thing arrived at the end of the tunnel at about the same time I did. Its two long arms swooped down like a bird of prey as it reached for me. My stomach turned, I pressed my eyes shut and, with a feral yank of the wheel, I sent my car swerving, dodging its long, greedy fingers by a hair’s breadth. Bright daylight enveloped me as I emerged from the tunnel. I did not even think of slowing down. I didn’t allow myself to look over my shoulder, but I knew I was safe again when I saw several other cars in the distance ahead. These things only come for me when I’m alone.

Pasha’s yowls had turned into whines and heavy, huffing snorts. I reached over to run a trembling hand through his silky fur. “You okay?”

My dog leaned into the touch, nosing my lower arm.

“I had a feeling you were trying to warn me. Sorry I didn’t listen.” I reached into the middle console to grab a small treat for him. He gently closed his teeth around it, careful as he took it from my shaking fingers. God, I love that animal.

We got in line with all the other vehicles. Seeing the other cars and the people behind the windows instilled within me a feeling of intense relief, like the weight of a boulder having been taken off my chest. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, painting the sky pink and ruby red. I watched, my soaring heart rate slowing at the pacifying sight. I didn’t want to have to get out of the car after dark, so I pulled over at the next possible stop. It was a bare, dreary little patch of asphalt where two trucks had parked, their owners most likely asleep inside. I rounded my truck to open the door for Pasha, who seemed all too happy to get his noodle nose out into the fresh air. He took a big dump on the side of the road, drank some water and then experienced a brief episode of the zoomies, likely brought on by the earlier tension.

I was stretching my legs and back as I watched him jump around, but my smile fell when he suddenly went still and ramrod straight. He was staring at something again, something I couldn’t make out. Whatever had caught his attention seemed to be located on the opposite side of the road, but between the cars rushing past and the gentle gleam of the evening redness, I couldn’t make out anything out of the ordinary. Still, I was not about to ignore my dog’s sixth sense again, so I hastily strapped him back into his seat and returned to my spot behind the wheel.

The next twenty minutes passed by uneventfully, but I was admittedly on edge. Pasha was alert, too; sitting upright and staring out the window with an alarming degree of focus. The road dragged on and on, and to my dismay, we were pretty much by ourselves again before long. We had reached the more rural stretch of the route, trees standing tall and dense to either side, seemingly scooting closer and closer as though they wanted to push their way forth to block my path. The moon was climbing higher in the sky by then, its silvery glow keeping my headlights company in the nightly darkness. A weak comfort.

I never liked this part of the trip. One the one hand, it always means I’m nearing my destination, but I’m just so alone out in the wilderness. Unprotected. No other people, no one to help. No witnesses. Most of my worst experiences have happened while I was driving down this section.

That day would turn out to be no different.

About an hour into the journey through the woodland was when I first spotted her. A glimpse of white by the side of the road, standing just behind the treeline, only partially visible. Gone in a flash. I shuddered, and my suspicions were confirmed when Pasha uttered a drawn-out, low growl. Here we go again.

Once you’ve seen something that’s caught your attention, you will most likely keep looking for it, even though you should really be focusing on something else. That’s how it was with me. I tried to keep my eyes and mind on the road ahead, looking only at what my headlights illuminated before me. In the back of my head, however, that little glimpse of white was fighting for dominance over my thoughts. I shoved it down, gnawing on my lower lip in hopes that the sting of my teeth would help me stay concentrated. Whenever a being doesn’t outwardly show itself, you can count on it waiting for the right moment. The fuckers are smart. They know how to make you nervous, how to drive you damn near crazy. It’s best not to look at whatever’s happening on the sides of the road. Eyes wide open and ahead, safe and strong and steely. That’s the only way.

I somehow managed to ignore the white spot that drew closer to my car from the left. Two minutes later, I could see her again out of the corner of my eye, approaching from my right this time. Cold dread seeped into my bones, fear pooling in the pit of my stomach like icy water. Pasha started barking again and my teeth drew blood from my lip. I could make out almost her entire form by then. She was small, scrawny, pale and blond. Her white dress fluttered around the bony shovels of her hips like it was spun from cobwebs, and I could see each bone shifting beneath as she moved. She was trying to distract me, I knew she was—too bad it was working.

It took all my willpower not to slow down, not to abruptly pump the brakes everytime she appeared. My stomach jolted with each sudden appearance of the being, and I could practically feel her patience waning as she drew closer and closer each time in an attempt to startle me. I knew what she wanted. She would only stop when I was dead in a roadside ditch, crushed to jelly by my truck; perhaps wrapped around a tree or lying on its roof. I was not about to give her that satisfaction.

Once more, I sped up my truck, the engine’s roar like a war cry as Pasha and I shot through the night. I lowered my head, my jaw set and my gaze pointing perfectly straight ahead. And then, seemingly appearing out of thin air, she simply stood in front of my truck, right there in the middle of the road. For a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of her face. It felt like there was an invisible rope tightening around my neck. Two wide, bulbous eyes met mine from within her frame of blond hair. They were sitting in the very middle of her head, taking up far too much space. She had no mouth, no nose, no nothing; just these gigantic, piercing eyes. Pasha let out a howl, panicking as he tugged against his restraint, and while I felt exactly the same, this brief moment of terror was over before it truly began.

A loud thump rang out as the ghostly woman was snatched up by my speeding vehicle, rolling up the hood of the truck before sailing over the roof. I didn’t swerve, didn’t brake, didn’t dare to look in the mirror. I kept on driving, leaving her laying there, wherever it was the momentum of my mighty car had propelled her to. About twenty minutes later, I finally allowed myself to relax, practically melting into my seat. Pasha had drawn himself up beside me, radiating victory, and I smiled and scratched his ear. “We did it, boy.”

I, too, felt weirdly proud of myself. Normally, only one of these things makes a pass at me, but I’d managed to evade two in a row. I was exhausted, my heart was still pounding like a sledgehammer, but damn, I felt good. Pasha and I enjoyed an uneventful remainder of the trip, and when I finally pulled up outside my partner’s remote little cabin, I was ready to drop for the night. The door, adorned by a rabbit’s paw, swung open with an ear-straining creak, and I stepped into the pitch-black interior. This was a comfortable, homely kind of darkness though, and I felt immediately at ease. Taking a deep breath, I sucked in the sweet smell of herbs, oils and incense. Pasha trotted in after me, and a smile came to my face when I heard him starting to munch and slobber away at something beside the entrance. He loves the food my partner makes, and I think it’s adorable of them to put out bowls for him in anticipation of our arrival. They always do that. They’re just so thoughtful.

“Hey, honey,” I called into the room.

“How was your journey, my soul?”

“Ugh.” I plopped down on the sofa beside them, sighing deeply upon feeling one of their four arms wrap around my shoulders. “They’re getting worse. There were two of them this time. I mean, I survived, so I don’t wanna mope around or anything.”

“They’re afraid of the offspring we might create. They want to keep us apart.”

“They won’t.”

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puppy-steve · 4 months

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🎄wip wednesday 🎄

long time no see! it's not wednesday anymore, but we're truckin' on bc i need to quit lollygagging and get to writing.

tagged by @hitlikehammers and also @wormdebut for six sentence sunday 💙

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

*wips under the cut*

✧ pre-emma steddie 2 (pwp) ✧

Steve can feel Eddie chubbing up underneath him and it makes his own dick twitch in response. “Just thought about you kissing me and touching me.” Eddie smirks against the hollow of Steve’s throat and licks a hot, wet, stripe all the way up to his ear that makes Steve shudder in his lap. “Where’d I do all that, sweet thing, hm?” Steve tips his head back as Eddie bites and nips at the skin between his shoulder and ear. He’ll have a hell of a time hiding them from Wayne in the morning. Maybe there’s a scarf under the tree with his name on it. “Everywhere,” he sighs into their room. His whole body feels like it’s vibrating and on fire.

✧ lex's winter challenge fic ✧

Dustin quickly raps three knocks on the wooden door in front of them. Mike scrunches his nose and gives him an incredulous look. “Why are you knocking? We never knock.”

—wip 3 is for the stuad server exchange, therefore a secret—

✧ it's the spirit of the season ✧

Now, though. Now he feels all that magic rush inside him at once, filling him with warmth and joy. He takes a deep breath and exhales through his mouth, like he’s taking in a gulp of fresh air for the first time in years.

if you see this, feel free to join in, but i'm tagging: @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @patchworkgargoyle @starrystevie @scarcrossdlvrs @steves-strapcollection @sidekick-hero @steddieas-shegoes

#cj talks #cj's wips

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best-of-basslines · 2 months

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Song Masterpost

[I was planning on linking all the songs to versions on Youtube, but apparently it goes over the number of links allowed on a post. Instead, the songs will be linked on each poll.]

Talk Talk - "It's My Life"

Kajagoogoo - “Too Shy”

The Beach Boys - “Good Vibrations”

Rush - “New World Man”

Cream - “Spoonful”

The Police - “Message in a Bottle”

Jackson 5 - “I Want You Back”

Diana Ross - “I’m Coming Out”

Diana Ross and the Supremes - “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted”

The Supremes - “You Can’t Hurry Love”

The Jam - “Town Called Malice”

David Essex - “Rock On”

Radiohead - “15 Step” | “Paranoid Android”

Michael Jackson - “Thriller” | “Billie Jean”

Elton John - “Dirty Little Girl”

Angra - “Nothing to Say”

Serú Girán - “La Grase de las Capitales”

Os Mutantes - “Ando Meio Desligado”

Bill Withers - “Lovely Day”

Blur - “Girls and Boys”

Sly and the Family Stone - “Thank You (Falettinme be Mice Elf Again)”

Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band - “Express Yourself”

Jr. Walker and the All Stars - “(I’m a) Road Runner”

Marvin Gaye - “I Heard it through the Grapevine” | “Midnight Lady”

Marvin Gaye and Tammi Tarrell - “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”

Red Hot Chili Peppers - “Higher Ground” | “Snow (Hey Oh)” | “Give It Away”

Primus - “My Name is Mud” | “Is it Luck?” | “Lacquer Head”

Beck - “Go It Alone”

The Fabs - “That’s the Bag I’m In”

The Shapes - “College Girls”

Herbie Hancock - “Chameleon”

Pink Floyd - “Money”

Rasputina - “Secret Message”

Madonna - “Material Girl”

Was (Not Was) - “Walk the Dinosaur”

Lemon Demon - “Jaws”

Creedence Clearwater Revival - “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?”

Steve Miller Band - “The Joker”

Violent Femmes - “Blister in the Sun”

War - “Low Rider”

Poppy - “Motorbike”

Tokyo Jihen (Tokyo Incidents) - “Noudouteki”

Graham Central Station- “Hair”

Oingo Boingo - “Dead Man’s Party”

Vulf Peck - “Deantown”

Iroha (feat. Rin Kagamine) - “Meltdown”

Labi Siffre - “I Got The…”

Deep Purple - “Space Truckin’”

The Breeders - “Cannonball”

Earth Wind and Fire - “Let’s Groove”

Parliament - “Give Up the Funk”

Liquid Liquid - “Cavern”

Melle Mel - “White Lines (Don’t Do It)”

Tiger Army - “Cupid’s Victim”

Limp Bizkit - “Nookie”

White Zombie - “Black Sunshine”

Alice in Chains - “Rooster”

Pearl Jam - “Daughter”

Norah Jones - “Cold Cold Heart”

Joy Division - “Transmissions” | “Disorder”

Metallica - “Orion”

Anthrax - “Caught in a Mosh”

Muse - “Hysteria” | “Plug in Baby” | “Futurism”

Arctic Monkeys - “Fake Tales of San Francisco” | “A Certain Romance” | “Dancing Shoes”

Bauhaus - “Double Dare” | “Kick in the Eye”

Chic - “Good Times” | “Everybody Dance”

Royal Blood - “Better Strangers”

Fleetwood Mac - “The Chain”

Iron Maiden - “Aces High”

The Damned - “Neat Neat Neat”

The Smiths - “Barbarism Begins at Home”

New Order - “Age of Consent”

Talking Heads - “Psycho Killer”

Romeo Void - “Never Say Never”

Cocteau Twins - “The Hollow Men”

Rage Against the Machine - “Killing in the Name” | “Bulls on Parade”

Dance Gavin Dance - “Don’t Tell Dave”

Queen - “Another One Bites the Dust” | “Dragon Attack”

Gorillaz - “Feel Good Inc.”

Megadeth - “Peace Sells”

Korn - “Got the Life”

Pantera - “Cowboys from Hell”

Queen + David Bowie - “Under Pressure”

Stevie Wonder - “Superstition”

Shiina Ringi - “Koufukuron (Etsuraku-hen)”

The Temptations - “My Girl”

Paramore - “Ain’t it Fun”

Måneskin - “For Your Love”

The Seatbelts - “Tank!”

Cake - “The Distance”

Gloria Gaynor - “I Will Survive”

Miles Davis - “Bitches Brew”

The Fall - “I Feel Voxish”

Public Image Ltd - “Swan Lake (Death Disco)”

Thelma Houston - “Don’t Leave Me This Way”

Killdozer - “King of Sex”

The Beatles - “Hey Bulldog” | “I Want You (She’s so Heavy)” | “Lady Madonna” | “Dear Prudence” | “I Will”

Wings - “Silly Love Songs”

Lou Reed - “Walk on the Wild Side”

White Stripes - “Seven Nation Army”

Gang of Youths - “Achilles Come Down”

AJR - “Sober Up”

Duran Duran - “Rio”

The Who - “Baba O’Riley” | “Getting in Tune”

Yes - “Roundabout”

Led Zeppelin - “Ramble On” | “Dazed and Confused”

The Cure - “Lovesong” | “The Lovecats”

#not a bassline poll #blog update #song masterpost

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itsmythang · 5 months

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People, we’re grateful for!!🙏🏽

Entrepreneur Paulette Johnson, owner of Trucker’s Café, loves cooking and helping. Known for the ‘biggest mother truckin’ burger,’ the café closes every Monday to serve the homeless.

Paulette Johnson closes her restaurant every Monday, typically a bustling day, to serve the homeless without charge.

Truckers Café, located in South Dallas, Texas closes weekly to serve the homeless and provides not just hot meals but also clean clothes, shoes, and toiletries.

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restlessthio · 7 months

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Link's and their personalities, in my opinion~

OoT Link is the serious big bro of the bunch (even as a kid). Pretty unaffected by things at this point haha;;;

WW Link is exhausted but keeps on truckin' lol he's also the sassy sarcastic one that always has a little quip ready

SkSw is also eternally exhausted, but he is trucking less.... gung ho. Feisty and hot headed- notably so for a Link.

TP Link is pretty chill actually! He's flexible and accommodating, and can figure out how to work around just about anything.

BoTW Link is responsible, the kind you can call at 3am when you need a ride and he'll be like yeah sure ofc! LOVES a good joke (after the amnesia anyway- he's just 100% work focused pre-amnesia)

#zelda #legend of zelda #loz link #botw link #tp link #ww link #sksw link #OoT link

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cyberphuck · 1 year

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ASSASSIN’S APPRENTICE ABRIDGED: CAST OF CHARACTERS

THE EXPLAINING REALM OF THE ELDERLINGS TO RAZZ PROJECT SO THEY DON’T HAVE TO READ THE BOOKS BUT THEY CAN STILL ENJOY MY SHITPOSTING ABOUT IT

PART ONE: ASSASSIN’S APPRENTICE PART ONE-A: CAST OF CHARACTERS THE FARSEERS (The royal family of the Six Duchies, every member of this clan is a hot mess. I will also be including Farseers-by-marriage in this category). Nameless/Fitz/Fitzchivalry: The POV character, King-in-Waiting Chivalry’s bastard whose name is literally “Chivarly’s Bastard.” Prince Chivalry: Fitz’s father who never has an on-screen appearance. He was first in line to the throne but abdicates when Fitz shows up. Prince Verity: Chiv’s younger brother, the Nice Uncle who becomes the new King-in-Waiting. Honest as his name and good at sports. Prince Regal: Chivalry and Verity’s younger half-brother, the Mean Uncle. Vain and power hungry and has like negative three redeeming qualities. King Shrewd: Current king, kind of getting on in years but not yet totally decrepit. He’s an ends-justify-the-means guy but not in an evil way. Chade: King Shrewd’s older half-brother on the wrong side of the sheets. An assassin. Lives in the walls. Has a weasel. August: Fourth? In line for the throne, he’s someone’s cousin, I forget whose, but he can do the Skill, so he’s here. Queen Constance: Chivalry and Verity’s mom. Shrewd’s arranged-marriage wife. Dead. Queen Desire: Regal’s mom. Shrewd’s midlife crisis trophy wife. Suffers from what we will discreetly call “substance abuse disorder.” Is a Mythic Bitch. Patience: Chivalry’s wife. Has ADHD. Can’t have children. Weird, but nice. (Kettricken is grouped with Rurisk so he doesn’t get lonely). CASTLE AND STABLE FOLK (and Molly) Burrich: Fitz’s pseudo-father and keeper. Stablemaster of Buckkeep, former right hand man to Chivalry. Was an adventurer like you until he took a pig to the knee. Cobb: Burrich’s apprentice. That’s kind of it, but he’s worth mentioning. Hands: A stablehand and Fitz’s friend. Likes redheads. Claims to have fucked a million women. Hasn’t. Lacy: Patience’s serving woman and bestie. Makes lace, nods indulgently and will stab you. The Fool: Albino freak-child who serves as King Shrewd’s jester. People are kind of afraid of him. Sometimes appears to yell word-salad at Fitz or walk his dog for him. Galen: Potions, er, Skill-master. Walks around the keep sneering at people. Supposed to teach people how to Skill, but isn’t good at it. Skill Students: Will not become important until next book. Molly Nosebleed: A pugnacious street girl who lives in Buckkeep Town. Fitz hangs out with her when he can. MOUNTAIN FOLK Rurisk: Prince of the Mountain Kingdom. Took an arrow to the chest and kept on truckin’. Used to be friends with Chivalry, is a pretty stand up guy. Hope nothing happens to him. Kettricken: Rurisk’s younger sister, betrothed to Verity (and later married) late in the book. Picture Gwendolyn Christie. Now give her a sword and a sense of duty that’ll blow you into next Tuesday. Jonqui: Kettricken’s aunt. No nonsense. Thinks Fitz is cute. PETS Nosy: Hound dog puppy. Bonded to Fitz. Smithy: I think Smithy’s like a French Bulldog or something? Fitz calls him a “terrier” but he’s not a ratting breed, he’s kind of muscly... anyway, bonded to Fitz. Sooty: Fitz’s horse. Best mare, perfect cinnamon roll and can do no wrong. Vixen: Burrich’s dog and Nosy’s mother. Good dog. Slink: A weasel belonging to Chade. MAGICS (I know magic is not a character, but they do have to be explained somewhere) The Wit: The ability to “bond” with certain animals and speak with them, as well as sense life force and to do a kind of mental shove at people. You tend to act a little like the animal you’ve bonded to. Witted people are considered gross and animalistic and are run out of town or put to death. The Skill: Telepathy. Considered the “birthright” of the Farseers. Most people can sense it at least a little, but it takes inborn talent and a lot of careful training to do anything useful with it. Skilling apparently feels awesome but if you give in to the temptation to fully open yourself to it you can get sucked out of your own brain.

#rote #assassin's apprentice #spoilers #aa abridged #farseer trilogy abridged

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