#well i guess this qualifies vaguely as

[evilminji]

Okay, as I have mentioned, I'm Ace AF. And you know that plot line in kids cartoons where the alien or foreign Warrior Royalty just sort of *violently kicks down door in full armor* "We Will Marry."? I?? Always said:

"Sure!" (#OhThankFUCK!)

Like what do you mean "No"? The powerful, attractive, monarch that is very into you has travel a great distance JUST to marry you! Now you don't have to date! They seem nice! You can skip the whole "trying to find a life partner" awkwardness.

So, Sudden New Fiancee(tm) how we doing this? Blended customs? Two weddings? One in your peoples traditions, one in mine? Should we invite your family? Tell me more about yourself.

God, this solves just... SO MUCH for me? No having to make small talk. No "do they like me?" Or "am I reading the signs here right?" No failed dates! It's positively ideal! AND they announced why they were qualified, in a VERY impressive show of power and prestige, when they arrived! Good lineage AND accomplished!! Very nice.

Don't get why everyone's so upset.

Sure the "we leave at once" thing that usually follows would have to be discussed, but that's what you DO as spouses. Really guys, it's like you think I'm incapable of common sense here.

And you know who probably agrees with me? Damian Wayne.

Hell is other people, INDEED. You expect him to just... randomly go up to people and try Courting them? What do you MEAN it's "creepy" to compile portfolios on eligible individuals of worthy bloodlines? How ELSE is he supposed to know if they are worth attempting to talk too?!

There are BILLIONS of humans on this gods forsaken rock, Richard! Is he supposed to just GUESS? Gamble and hope for LUCK? This is a MARRIAGE not a "best friends club"!

Then? Danny showes up.

Gotham heard her baby talking. Heard her KING being harassed by clearly plotting Observants and power hungry ghosts MANY times his age. Connected some dots. Formed themselves a new OTP.

Danny says "Fuck It". Worst he can say is No. According to Gotham, he is neither Shy not the meek obedient sort. Is in fact, VERY stabby. So if he's not interested he'll no doubt be BRUTALLY clear about that.

So? Danny gets Fright Knight. Go get him a horse. Someone fetch Cujo some armor. He's been told the guy like weapons and animals.

TIME TO BE IMPRESSIVE.

He goes FULL Regalia. Armor of solid night sky. Cape of frost and stardust. Crown like crack in reality itself, through which the cosmos gleam and shift. He gets a horse from the far frozen. They're wooly and carnivorous. Gets THE most impressive sword he can find to wear.

It's gonna be a gift, since he doesn't need it.

He does the whole "rend the skies open" thing. Fan fair and knights. Every title he's ever been given, no matter how embarrassing he find them in reality. And announces his intentions. Declares that ONLY Damian Wayne, aka. Robin, is WORTHY to Marry Him. And (in the traditional Ghost proposal of "either accept or tell me to fuck off" /w violence) Demands Damian accept his offer of Marriage.

Right there.

IN THE WATCHTOWER.

In front of EVERYBODY. And yes, ESPECIALLY the Bats. Who are making glitching, vaguely threatening DEMONIC NOISES. Because? You... you THREATEN the BABY? Death. Ten thousand years DEATH.

People are :O ing and backing away from the visible heatwave of unadulterated FURY being put off by Batman. Danny is nano-second from every bone his ANCESTORS had being reduced to a fine paste.

Then? Damian consider him... considers the sword being thrust in his direction, still held aloft in a steady and armored hand... contemplates those titles for a second...

And goes: "Acceptable. Very well, but I have demands."

N..... Nani the FUCK? Says local Bat-Dad. No??? You are NOT GETTING MARRIED.

Try to stop him. He very obviously IS, according to Damian, the man brought him a kick ass sword and has a giant green dog. Is the king of an ENTIRE REALITY. Yes, he realizes he probably COULD do better... but frankly? This one's cute. But if it upset you so... extended engagement. There. Happy?

NO! Because the JLA Dark are LOSING THEIR SHIT. Damian is still UNDERAGE. We don't even know how OLD this being is! NO MARRIAGE.

Damian is unimpressed. A whole six months? That he's likely already LIVED thanks to various timeloops, temporal shenanigans, and reality warping bits of fuckery? You're reaching.

Just? Marriage Meet Cute.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #marriage meet cute au #danny phantom #damian wayne #bruce may break his no killing rule #dick DEFINITELY about to break the no killing rule #tim is making out with Kon in a closet and misses most of this #good for him honestly

[indieyuugure]

Your comic series is the first Rottmnt comic Iv ever read! It was an amazing first impression to the Rottmnt fandom! Could you teach me how to draw the turtle boys ( rise turtles)?

Also love the new update!

Aw! I’m so glad my comic made on good impression on you! ^v^

Of course! I’d love to help you!

So first thing’s first, here’s the boys the best I can draw them. The most important thing when learning to draw new characters is identifying what makes them look like them. We’ll start with the faces since that’s, in most cases, the point of focus.

Leo’s face is a pretty tall and vaguely pentagonal. His face is also very angular, the corners of his cheeks and top of his head are very sharp. Leo has the traditional style mask with tails that drop down to about his waist.

Donnie has that smart boi forehead and majestic eyebrows. His forehead often has a soft curve to it while, similarly to Leo, his cheeks and jaw use sharp angles. Remember too that the top of his head is flat, there’s no curve. His mask is that newer pirate style that wraps over the top of his head, with the tails looking like curvy squares.

Mikey’s face is a combination of a rounded square and a circle. The top of his head, while much rounder than Donnie’s, is somewhat square. The bottom of his face is a curve. Sometimes I draw the curve in line segments, but it’s not a requirement and won’t impact the way he looks. In general though, Mikey has a very circular face. His mask is the traditional TMNT style with the rounded bouncing tails on the back.

Raph is arguably the hardest to get right for some odd reason. Really though Raph’s face is just a shorter version of Leo’s face with slightly more exaggerated angles. His face is like a fat pentagon. Also tip: Raph’s eyes are always just a little smaller then you think they’re going to be. Trace some scenes from the ROTTMNT movie, you’ll see what I mean. Raph’s mask is the same style as Donnie’s where it covers the whole top of his head. There’s a small nick on the edge above his right cheek and the tails are tattered.

Okay, next are their markings! They play a lot in how easily identifiable they are.

I figured these diagrams should help as a little map as to what spots go where.

Alright, now we’ll look at their shells. There are many amazing diagrams and explanations for drawing their shells on Pinterest I’ve found, but I’ll sum it up here as best I can.

Leo’s shell is very sleek in design making his is profile look the thinnest of his brothers. Many people describe his general body shape as being an inverted triangle.

Donnie’s shell is very straight with hardly any curves. I didn’t include his battle shell in this since that qualifies as “gear” in my opinion, so you get to see what Donnie’s shell looks like! You’ll notice that the sides of his shell are very wide, which I’m guessing is because the curve of his carapace is so shallow.

Mikey’s shell is very similar to Leo’s but is a lot thicker and boxier(haha get it? Cause he’s like, a Box Turtle? :D I’m so lame…). He’s also much rounder and the distance between his plastron and carapace is pretty big.

Raph’s shell is probably the most complex of the boys because of all the spikes. Good things to keep in mind are that the spikes on the top of his plastron angle out, and spikes on his carapace flow up. In general think of Raph as a pentagon, he’s got big broad shoulders and arms and almost comically short legs. (And yes, I’m aware that I didn’t include the side of his shell here, it was too big to fit on the diagram. But just to give you an idea of where it should be, around the “w” in “flow” is where it should connect to his carapace.

Okay! So now that we’ve covered what the boys look like, let’s apply it to their bodies!

Here’s a quick sketch of Leo. “Oh, but Indie” I hear people say, “I can only draw basic shapes and stick figures!” Well to that I say good because that’s what I’m doing too!

For drawing action, it’s crucial to capture the energy of the character. And in a style like Rise’s energy is an iconic trait. So I’ve re-invented this “shape method” to actually be useful. The number one thing is that these shapes are loose guides as to the positioning of the body. Don’t think of these shapes as “well chests are like cubes and arms are like rectangles.” These shapes are place holders. I could replace those circles with stars and it wouldn’t change anything. I just use circles because they’re faster to scribble and stand out against the hard angles of everything else.

Here’s a picture of the shapes overlayed on the image, as you see, these shapes are guides to help comprehend a complex angle in 3D space. Sadly I don’t have much I can assist with on proportions, since I learned purely by studying total uncreepily real life people and myself (I swear I’m posing in the mirror for purely educational reasons! Okay!?).

But anyway, for this kind of thing, practice is the only remedy. Just draw action pose after action pose. Trace scenes from ROTTMNT and the movie to teach your eye to see what things should look like and to train your brain to recognize patterns of shapes and angles.

I hope you found this at all helpful. I’m not really sure how great of a teacher I am but people keep asking questions like these so I guess I’m okay. Glad you liked ROTP so much and I’m glad it made such a good impression on you! ^v^

Good question! :]

And of course if you have more questions, feel free to ask. Here are some previous asks about drawing I’ve gotten that you might also find interesting:

Tricks for Drawing Extra Expressive Faces

More Tricks for Drawing Expressions

Tips and Tricks to Drawing Non-Graphic Wounds

Basic Guide and Tips for Drawing the 2012 and Rise Turtles

How to Draw 2012 Raph’s Fire Ninpo

Nailing The 2012 TMNT Style in 2D

Important Concepts in Drawing Female Characters

#q&a #tmnt #ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #art #art tips #drawing #drawing tips #drawing stuff #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

[nomazee]

hihi!! i love ur writing sm and was wondering if u could do a chuuya x also mafia executive reader (similar to the dazai friends to lovers u did a bit ago) with the unestablished relationship but so obviously in love trope

thank u sm!!

i went so overboard omfg FORGIVE ME... i hope this is cohesive i kept working at it at like deep into the night so it's a little hazy omg but i loved this so much im such a sucker for this trope and chuuya and dazai are like the best characters for this kind of genre i feel

pairing: chuuya x gn reader word count: 2.8k content: fluff, hurt/comfort (an abundance of it), friends-to-lovers, mentions of sickness (vomiting, fever, etc), domestic fluff, sweet stuff, also hand-wavey teenage timeline because i didn't read all of stormbringer forgive me...

°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.

“They said they might promote me, did you hear?” 

Chuuya glances to the side at the sudden sound of your voice. You’re leaning over his shoulder from behind him, face mere inches from his as you grin widely. He has to fight the twitches of his own lips to stop himself from smiling back. “And who’s they, exactly?” 

“Oh, you know. The grapevine. Just some whispers in the organization. And Kouyou.” You lean back, the radiating warmth of your body suddenly escaping Chuuya. He walks behind you as you make your way down the hallway, a little jump in your step as you recount the news to him. 

“It’s what you get for working so hard. Guess it paid off.” 

“You think I’m hardworking! You’re a flatterer, Chuuya Nakahara.” 

“Sure am,” he quips back with amusement. Banter with you is different than with Dazai. With you, it’s lighthearted, and silly, and makes him feel like he’s fourteen and messing around with the Sheep again. With Dazai, it’s… charged, and fast-paced, and builds up a kind of aggravated energy within him that works well in fights but not in a room of Kouyou’s antiques. 

“But guess what,” you start again, looking over your shoulder where Chuuya follows close behind. Your pace slows down to let him catch up to you and walk side-by-side, now. “I think you’ve got a good chance, too. You’ve got some executive qualities, you know?” 

It makes Chuuya pause for a moment, because he hasn’t really thought about it before. After the mess that was the Sheep, he hadn’t considered taking up any kind of leadership or executive position in the Port Mafia. It wasn’t really his thing—too much work, too much responsibility. And as much as he loathed to admit it, it would probably mean even less time to spend with you and Dazai. Being mentored by different people already limited your time with each other. 

He tries not to think too hard about the implications of it—of you and Dazai working under Mori’s hands while Chuuya gets Kouyou’s firm, but gentler palms. A vague kind of sickness washes over him that he tries to shake off. 

“I don’t know about that. I think I do better in a quieter position, don't you think?” 

“Nothing is quiet about you. Especially not with that partner of yours,” you joke back. “I could put in a good word for you! Once I get promoted, I’ll have, like, a bunch of power and influence, and I’ll be all high and mighty, and you and me and Dazai can all take care of the Port Mafia and be all cool, and everything.” 

It’s a pipe dream. Both of you know that. Chuuya knows best about your hidden resentment of this organization and all that it stands for, all that it does. He’s heard whispers about your plans to take over—plans that would never come to fruition. Plans that were more like dreams and wishes and hopes. Something to get you through the day. The budding smile on his face falters when he turns and sees that distant look in your eyes. A sigh bubbles in his chest, but he holds it down. 

“Hey, slow down. You don’t even know if you’re getting the position or not.” His comment is met with a roll of your eyes and a chest-deep groan. You launch into a big speech about how qualified you are for the job, and all the different things you’d institute as a mafia executive (nap time, stress room with cats, petting zoo, iced tea dispensers), and Chuuya nods along and laughs for as long as he can.

===

You do, in fact, get promoted to an executive, but at the cost of a lot of things. Dazai leaves the mafia with no warning to you or Chuuya. You don't see him at all for two weeks leading up to his defection, and it all happens in a blur that leaves your head swimming with vertigo and your body much too frail to handle everything. 

Chuuya finds you sobbing in your en suite bathroom, kneeling on the floor and crying so hard that you’re dry heaving. He hasn’t seen you like this before. Even in your rare moments of vulnerability, it was never something so visceral and uncensored. He stands in the doorway, looking down at you, and freezes. His palms itch with the desire to do something, something that he hasn’t learned.

“You… Hey, hey,” Chuuya drops to the floor once he snaps out of his daze, crouching next to your curled up form as you shake with the force of your tears. He tentatively reaches out a hand, easing onto your shoulder. When you don’t give any sort of negative reaction, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you in for an embrace. 

It’s odd. This isn’t something that the three of you did. For all that you and him and Dazai kicked and pushed and shoved each other jokingly, this kind of touch is unfamiliar. It’s scalding in the way that sitting in front of a space heater in the dead of winter burns you.

He shushes you like a child because he’s not sure what else to say. He’s just as shaken by Dazai’s defection, but he knew that you and Dazai had become so close over the last few years. Being trained under Mori together does that. His chest squeezes at the sight of you like this, broken down and shivering and sick at the loss of your friend. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. Shhh, it’s— it’s okay.”

Chuuya smooths a hand over the top of your head, sliding down to rest between your shoulderblades. His mouth presses against your temple in a gentle kiss, feeling how cold and clammy your skin has gotten. He doesn’t know how to heal you. His hands are made to weigh people down and hurt and subdue, and he’s not sure if he can handle the gentler things like holding you and swathing you in blankets and cooking you soup. 

But, he thinks with a renewed determination. There’s no harm in trying. 

Three months later, you take Dazai’s executive position at the age of nineteen. Chuuya follows suit after another year and a half and becomes executive at twenty. You only think of Dazai when your head swims in gin and when you can’t feel the heat of Chuuya’s hands near you.

===

The both of you find yourselves in Chuuya’s apartment drinking the night away. At this point, you’re both twenty-one, and being in the mafia has offered you countless resources for alcohol and the like. A warm haze has blanketed you as you take another sip of whatever sweet fruity drink Chuuya has concocted for you. He drinks a glass of wine, because he’s weird and bougie, which you tell him straightforwardly. 

“Wine’s just an acquired taste,” he tells you.

“It’s glorified grape juice. It tastes like yeast.” 

“That’s… kind of what it is.” 

You laugh so hard that tears bead in your eyes and you hit him on the shoulder hard enough to bruise. It’s not even that funny, really, and he wasn’t even trying to make you laugh, but it’s so late into the night that you don’t even know what time it is and everything is funny when you’re this drunk.

“I’m hungry, Chuuya. I miss your soup,” you say, a whine in your voice as you throw your head back against the armrest of the couch. You’re stretched out on his velvet upholstered couch with your feet in his lap, and he’s been tracing circles against your bare shins while some documentary plays in the background on the TV. “You haven’t cooked for me in forever. I thought it was your duty as a househusband to cook every night, or something.” 

“Hey! I’m not anyone’s househusband,” he shouts in protest. When you push your head up from the armrest to glance at him, his tanned face is flushed a warm red and his brow is furrowed in playful indignation and you’re struck with the urge to bite him like a chew toy. Instead, you let out a soft kind of laugh and roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, you are. You’re my husband. Have been since the day I met you.” In a burst of newfound energy, you propel yourself up and off the couch, swinging your legs off his lap and standing up. “Let’s go make some soup. Your pantry’s probably stocked, right? Since you’re on top of all your housekeeping.” 

“Geez. You’re never letting that go, are you?” 

“Of course not! Come on. You have to teach me how to cook now.” 

Chuuya has reserved bone broth in his freezer, because of course he does. You submerge a container of it in hot water and wait for it to defrost while he helps you dice and saute vegetables in a pressure cooker. 

(“Don't pressure cookers, like, explode, or something?” 

“...who taught you that.”)

It’s a miracle you can even use a knife safely, because your head is still swimming a little bit and the line of empty bottles on the coffee table taunts you and your bad decisions. You also blame it for the way you stick close to Chuuya, bumping your hips together and leaning your head on his shoulder for a few fleeting moments until the pressure cooker starts hissing. 

He serves you a heaping bowl and when you tell him you’ll puke if you eat the whole thing, he pushes the bowl at you from across the counter and says, “I’ll guess I’ll just clean your puke for you too, then.” 

“Gross. You’re really a househusband if you’re brave enough to do that.” 

“Househusband this, househusband that. All I do is cook.” 

“And clean up the vomit of your lovely lovely spouse.” 

“Sure,” he says, and he turns back to you and puts his own bowl next to yours. Then, in a swift, undeterred motion, he reaches across the kitchen island, over both steaming bowls of soup and kisses you straight on the mouth. It shocks you right into lucidity, eyes blown wide and lips nearly parting at the sudden contact. Before you can really think about it, Chuuya pulls back, circling around the kitchen island to sit next to you with two spoons so you can both eat. “As long as that lovely lovely spouse is you.” 

You feel—light. Airy, sick, nauseous, more at peace than you have been in the last three years. A stupid smile starts forming on your face and you hide your giddy laughs into your soup. 

Chuuya would never act like this sober, you think, still cherishing the little moment you have. Thankfully, you’re proven wrong when he keeps doing it—walking you back to your apartment the next day, going out to a mafia-affiliated diner the next week, in an empty meeting room after everyone has left.

===

Another year passes. You find yourself in the throes of the cannibalism incident—not as a bystander, but as a victim. Because that’s just your luck, really. 

You don’t know how you were caught in the crossfire between Fyodor and Mori, but somehow you were infected with the cannibalism virus and bedridden for nearly three days, in-and-out of consciousness while you hoped and prayed that somebody would save you. For the entirety of the conflict, you were left alone in the PM infirmary, sweating off your perpetual fever and coughing up stomach bile into a metal garbage can. 

It was awful. There’s no blame to put on anyone, though. Everyone who was able to stand was on the front lines, so to speak, and from what you understood you weren’t as big of a target as Mori. Three days alone in a sterile bed was worth it for the survival of the organization.

At the end of it all, in the calm after the storm, sitting in your dorm, Chuuya visits you. 

You don’t look too great, still recovering physically and emotionally, but you can’t find it in you to care. The second you hear the familiar cadence of his knock and the shuffling of his stupid heeled boots, you rip the door open and are met with his wide-eyed expression. 

“Hey,” he says, and you burst into tears because god. It hasn’t hit you until now, seeing him in front of you, his warmth radiating from his hands as they reach out to hold you, but you could’ve died or he could’ve died and then what would’ve happened? Years and years of knowing each other, seeing each other at your worst, taking care of each other. Cooking in your kitchen and sleeping on his couch and kissing him like it meant nothing. It could’ve all been gone. 

The mafia isn’t a safe occupation to begin with, but this entire thing has made you realize how fleeting everything is. So you sob, and you let him hold you and bring you to the couch, and you let yourself be weak.

“Hey,” he says again, tone now placating, gloved hands resting on the back of your head and between your shoulder blades as he sits next to you on the couch. You have no regard for where your body is right now, legs sprawled out somewhere beneath you and arms reaching up to grab at Chuuya’s clothes in any way you can. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” 

You cough wetly into his shoulder, a whine forming from between your violent sobs. Your body shakes with the remnants of your sickness and the exhaustion of the week and a small voice in the back of your head tells you that it’s embarrassing, that it’s unbecoming of a mafia executive to be so affected. 

Death threats and poisonings and shootings—you deal with it every week. You choke out another whine of distress as you press the heels of your palms against your closed eyelids in an attempt to quell the tears. It doesn’t work. You’re still weak, no matter how hard you hurt. 

“Shit, Chuuya,” you cough out a weak sob, shivers wracking your body as the weight of everything crashes onto you. “I was so sick. I was alone. I thought I would die. God.” You pull back from his hold to rub at your eyes with your raw palms.

“Stop that,” Chuuya says, with a gentleness you swear you haven’t heard in so long but in truth it’s been with you for the last two years. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Cold fingers wrap around your wrists and pull them away from your face. 

The white-hot heat of embarrassment scalds the back of your neck. You feel like a scolded child with the pitying look he gives you, and with your hands locked between his there’s no way to hide. 

“Stop,” you tell him, “quit it, Chuuya,” and you don’t know what you’re begging for, but it’s the lowest you’ve ever felt—a feared member of the mafia on their knees crying and asking for some kind of mercy. 

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he mumbles, and he pulls you just a bit closer with the grip he has on your hands. His chin rests on top of your head and you shove your face into the crook of his neck.

For once, he doesn’t smell like his gross luxury perfume. He smells like your laundry detergent and grass and the city and even more tears spill over your cheeks. Your fingers curl into his and you clench his knuckles until you feel them creak through the gloves. 

“I wouldn't let you die,” Chuuya’s voice is no more than a whisper, but it’s the most determined you’ve heard him sound. “I wouldn’t let it happen.” 

“I don’t need your protection,” and it’s a weak protest, and you’re grasping at straws to argue with him and push him away and make him stop before you make yourself sick with how hard you’re sobbing. You feel one hand slip from yours and slide up between your shoulderblades and start trailing along the nape of your neck, tracing circles in a lulling gesture. 

“I know you don't,” he says, “but I would really like it if you let me. Just once in a while. Let me cook you soup alone and wash your face and clean your hair. All that stupid stuff.”

You cough out a weak laugh. Your househusband shtick from a year ago comes back to you, and so do all the warm evenings spent together in the kitchen and the kisses left on his cheek and the ones left on yours. You feel the warm press of his mouth against your temple and let out your last weak sob before you hold him tight again, squeeze him hard against you to make sure he’s still there. And that’s where he’ll stay.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara x you #bsd oneshot #chuuya oneshot #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #nakahara chuuya x you

[livwritesstuff]

vaguely inspired by something my boss said the other day (and also by that tiktok audio that went viral)

Eddie walks into the kitchen just in time to see Steve setting his phone down and looking utterly perplexed.

"What?" he asks, not sure what to expect.

“Uh, so we’re going into Boston tomorrow because Moe is running in the goddamn Boston Marathon, apparently.”

Eddie feels his jaw drop.

"What the fuck?"

"Don't even get me started, Ed. I guess some idiot she works with was making comments about it and she took it as a challenge."

"Jesus Christ. We really lucked out that she's not evil or something because we'd all be in trouble."

"I know, right?" Steve replies, shaking his head.

“What’s the big deal about the Boston Marathon?” Hazel asks from the kitchen counter, “Is it, like, longer than other marathons?”

Steve's eyebrows fly up as he looks at their youngest daughter.

“What, Hazel — all marathons are the same length.”

Hazel blinks.

“Right.”

“It’s harder than a lot of other marathons though,” Steve continues, “There’s a lot of hills and it’s not easy to qualify for, which — I didn't even know Moe ran, never mind ran marathons."

“She never tells us stuff," Hazel comments, "Why does she never tell us stuff?"

“Your sister’s kind of a machine, Haze,” Eddie tells her, “Does your computer give you a month’s notice when it needs an update?”

"No."

"Well, there you go."

#steve is like mr bennet perpetually in dismay over how ridiculous his children are #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie dads #happy boston marathon day to those who celebrate #wherever you live - if you have the opportunity to go watch people run a marathon you should do it #there's such a special energy in the air

[adobe-outdesign]

have you been asked to review the Tapu pokemon yet?

As a whole, I really like the Tapus. It's neat to have one guardian per Alolan island, and the designs themselves are well thought out. I really like how each one has a set of white triangular markings with a darker border, which allows each one of them to be very distinctive with unique designs and palettes while also making sure all three look like they belong together in a group. This is also enhanced by them carrying tiki-inspired masks, with each one being based on a different animal that also influences the creature itself to some degree. Good stuff.

Thematically, the Tapus are also based off of the four main Hawaiian gods (Koko, Lele, Bulu, and Fini seem to be based off of Kūkaʻilimoku, Kāne, Lono, and Kanaloa respectively). I'm obviously not Hawaiian so I don't feel qualified to judge these guys on accuracy, though it seems like Tapu Koko is the most on-point with the feathered look while Tapu Fini is the least, having little to do with the deity it's based off of aside from a vague connection to the ocean.

Regardless, all of these designs are distinct and do a good job standing out from other legendaries, as well as tying back into their region. There was clearly a lot of thought that went into them in terms of both functionality and visual aesthetics.

Tapu Koko is my personal favorite of the bunch. Vaguely based off a rooster (side note: I'm amazed we don't have a rooster 'mon yet. I guess Blaziken counts but it's only a rooster in the vaguest sense of the word), it sports feathers, a beak-like structure on its face, and a mask that it forms a beak with using its pincer-like hands. Really neat! I also like the mohawk becomes the rooster's comb when the mask is closed.

The orange and yellow palette is also nice, as it's very high-contrast and pops well against the black body. My only nitpicks would be that the two pairs of chest markings feel a bit too busy, as do the lines in the yellow part of the eye (though granted, they all have those). Otherwise, this is a very neat design.

I like Tapu Lele because it looks all cute and pretty and then it turns out it's an incredibly cruel nature deity that does not care about the suffering it causes. It and Beautifly should be friends.

Anyway, Tapu Lele is meant to resemble a butterfly head, with the hair curls becoming antennae and a tentacle emerging from the bottom that resembles a proboscis, along with two wing-like structures on the back. I don't think it reads quite as clearly as some of the others, and I do wish the body took after its animal more (the creature itself having no insect-like traits, compared to the other Tapus where you can see the animal influence outside of the masks), but it's still neat.

Tapu Bulu probably resembles its animal the most in terms of body shape, having a bull's signature nose piercing and hooves, as well as horns. Most interesting is the long tail, which not only matches the hooves but becomes the bull's nose ring when the mask closes.

The colors are nice and high-contrast, but I do wish it had been green instead of red. Koko is yellow and orange, Lele is pink and red, and Fini is purple and blue. Having Bulu be red and gold feels too similar to Lele, even if it fits the angry bull idea. It also would've made sense from a typing perspective, as Tapu Bulu is the grass-type of the group (even the horns kind of look like pencils/wood).

Otherwise I don't have any real complaints, outside of the face markings feeling a bit busy, as you have the nose, ring, and three different eye markings. I feel like they could've easily dropped the white eye markings and not lost anything.

And finally, Tapu Fini is probably my least favorite of the group, though it's still a good design. I like the body shape (kind of siren-like, though I don't know if that was intentional) with fin-shaped accents in the hair, on the hands, and on the body.

When it closes its mask it resembles a swordfish of sorts, with the hair strands becoming the side fins and the hair fin slotting into the mask's purple ridge to form a dorsal fin. Something about the fish itself feels a little off though; maybe it's just that it lacks a tail fin, or maybe it just looks a bit too plain compared to the others because it's meant to be viewed more from the side. Still a pretty solid design all around though.

Anyway, overall, I think these guys are great. They're cohesive but distinct, have unique visuals and themes that set them apart from other legendaries, and designs that work from both a visual and mechanical standpoint. Good stuff.

#tapu koko #tapu lele #tapu bulu #tapu fini #pokemon #pokemon reviews

[cbk1000]

Anyway, here is another preview of the infamous Train Fic. (There are three or so others I've posted previous to this; if you search the tag 'preview' on my blog, you can find all of them as well as some other bits and bobs.)

“So. Speaking of. Last night. And this morning. Are you--is this…some kind of experimentation? Because it’s fine. If it is,” Merlin said. “Obviously I wouldn’t say anything to anyone. If you just need to. I dunno. Burn off some frustrations.”

The shirt was open; and came down with Arthur's back still turned, with the voice coming to him from the room which simultaneously was too small and vast a thing between them. He imagined turning round, and saying openly into the open, that Merlin as usual was a gibbering cunt; was so obtuse, so worryingly, so curiously a devotee of that ancient art of mouth breathing that his brain, when last its feeble struggle was ended, ought to be given to science. It was not doing much good for him; but somewhere in a jar it might do good for human learning. But he would have to put himself, naked and trembling, into the world where Merlin would feel obligated to tenderness; and though he could have qualified the, ‘No, I love you’ with a blistering ‘you tit’ still he would have had to offer it hopelessly in the first place. And so he said, whilst he was folding up the shirt to go beside the tie and jacket, “Yeah, sure.”

“Yeah. Ok. That’s Fine.” There was a little rustling, and then: “I guess you’re not as much of a prude about your sexuality as I thought. I mean, I don’t know if you remember, it was like a decade ago, but you did snog me just to convince my ex we were together at that Halloween party. Remember, the one where you went as like a zombie footballer or something and I was a vampire and I had to take my teeth out?”

“Vaguely,” said Arthur, who would have gone home with him after those ten transcendent seconds of tongue, and given up heterosexuality and virginity at once. 

“Yeah, I was trying to make him jealous, remember, so you went as my fake boyfriend, and he was like, ‘That’s your hetero footie mate you hang out with all the time, you pathetic arsehole’ and you walked up and put your arm round my shoulders and tried to kiss me but the teeth were in the way so I took them out and we made out a bit and it was kind of awful but he was really pissed off, so I won.”

“It was kind of awful?” Arthur demanded, throwing the shirt down. “Nobody has ever complained before.”

“Yeah, look, it was pretty obvious you’d never kissed a guy before. Plus you drank that really manky thing Morgana made out of, what was it, red wine and Coke? Your mouth was the scene of a crime.”

“What crime, the drink, or my kissing?” Arthur snapped.

“Don’t get your knickers in a knot, you were a 20-year-old straight guy; none of those kiss very well. And if it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t the worst I ever had. Do you remember Anna? She was that girl I started dating shortly after we moved in together? The blonde? Doing Asian and Middle Eastern Studies?”

Arthur, who remembered everyone who had slept with Merlin, whilst he put a pillow over his ear, to crush out the sound of others’ enjoyment, said, “Sounds a bit familiar, I suppose.”

“Yeah, well she used to, I dunno, almost unhinge her jaw or something, every time we snogged I felt like she was going to swallow my whole head, and it was like, ok, the sex is actually pretty good, what the hell is going on with her kissing, it was so bad I had to start avoiding it, because I tried to, you know, direct her a bit, like, look, you don’t have to actually put your whole mouth over my whole mouth and shove your tongue down my throat as hard as you can, and she never seemed to get that, so good luck to whoever the next bloke was, I guess. Anyway, all you did was use a little too much tongue.”

He was running to babble the way he always did when he was nervous, or trying to sell one of those absurd lies which he always pulled out of orifices even more indiscriminate than his arse, which never would have told a copper he was in the library after hours because he had been chasing after a stray cat: undoubtedly the criminal who had not only smashed the window, but made off with the librarian’s Jaffa Cakes. He was still standing in the doorway to the bathroom with one shoulder casually leant on the frame, as if he did not see much excitement in this new line which they were about to cross in their friendship; but the mouth was going on, quite independent of his brain, which must have been observing the tragedy in defenceless horror. It had gone to Oxford; not only gone, but winnowed out one of those firsts which were achieved by so small a percentage of students. Somehow the brain had done that, and was also doing this.

“You know what the proper amount of tongue is, then,” Arthur said, to preclude hearing anything else which might turn his stomach, or penis; and turning now to raise an eyebrow at the figure in the doorway, which finally had done the nigh on miraculous, and shut up.

“You want me to demonstrate or something?” Merlin asked, and shifted in the doorway. One of his hands in his pockets noticeably flinched; and he crossed one foot over the other, then crossed the other foot over the one foot. He took out one of his hands, to itch under his chin and at the nape of his neck. 

#preview #fic #train fic #merthur

[kyngsnake]

Snippet *Sunday

Or, well. Technically snippet Monday now. Tagged by @bleumanouche, thank you Bleu!

No pressure tags: @druidgroves @hotwifeluigi @bigfan-fanfic

Grabbed this snippet from a scene in which Wes and Avery are 19 & 18 and in the aftermath of a falling out with each other. Both of them cope with their emotions poorly at this age. Avery does it more violently. Wes is the patron saint of repression. I have a lot of fun writing scenes while these two are younger because it really shows how much they've grown by the time they're 30.

And as always Wes belongs to @hotwifeluigi

And so Avery gets himself a shot. And another, and another, and another. 

The more Avery drinks the louder he gets, the louder he gets the more other bar patrons want to drink with him. It’s all jovial celebration but it’s a thinly veiled vicious cycle, smiles and laughter encourage poisoning the well. A cheap excuse to justify the means of self-medication, still, to everyone but Avery he’s having a lovely night. And who could blame them? It’s New Years, ain’t no threat in having a good time.

The momentum carries up to a finite point; Avery exists in a state of perpetually teetering over a ledge. All it takes is one nudge and he’ll tumble, push finds its shove when a man built like a bull decides faggot is a good way to describe the way Avery talks. 

One black eye, a busted lip and two sets of bloodied knuckles later, Avery finds himself on the curb outside. His saving grace was the firm belief that fighting dirty is fair game if an opponent really deserves it, dropping slurs in a bar meets that qualifier. They both got kicked out of the bar when it really came down to it, but Avery’s content with knowing that motherfucker took a boot heel to the balls. 

Avery spits to his side, saliva marbled with blood colors a small spot in the dirt. He grunts, sighs from behind his teeth and lifts a cigarette to his lips. The orange glow briefly fills the dark night air, Avery perks up when he hears the door open behind him. 

“What the hell were you thinkin’ pullin’ a stunt like that?” Even while drunker than a cow on a diet of fermented corn he’d recognize Wes’s voice. Oh, so now he can tolerate being near Avery. 

“Dude had it comin’,” Avery says with all the nonchalance in the world.

Wes stands over him with his hands on his hips. Avery tilts his head up and back to stare at him, he can’t help but smirk a little when he gets a good look at that pursed-lip, low-browed expression. He carries a similar cadence to a horse with his ears all pinned back. Careful, he might kick.

“How d’you figure he had it comin’? I watched the whole damn thing from the other side’a the bar, far as I know he mighta just looked atcha wrong and you took a swing,” Wes uses one hand to make frustrated, vague gestures as he talks, “Which, if I’m bein’ quite honest, Mr. Moreno, I wouldn’t put such a thing past you.”

Avery takes another slow inhale off his cigarette. Flicks the ashes into the dirt, mixing with his spit like gold flakes in resin. “Call me a faggot, get your teeth busted out. It’s as simple as that.”

“Oh,” Wes breathes as his expression cools to something a grade calmer. He stands there statuesque for a short spell, evidently unsure just what to say. He clears his throat and adds, “I guess it’s for the best then that you uh, you stood up for yourself.”

Standing over Avery while he’s sat there on the curb, Avery decides he should invite Wes to do anything other than loom. “Want a smoke?” He says as he pulls one from the pack he has in his coat pocket.

“No, that’s a’right,” Wes declines and Avery isn’t sure if the feeling cropping up in his chest immolates or if it’s so cold that it burns, somewhere in the back of his head he’d hoped Wes would sit with him out here. “I had somebody waitin’ for me back inside. Just wanted to see what’d happened with you.”

 Avery finds that he has nothing to say, silence lingers between them until Wes opens his mouth again.

“You plan on comin’ back in anytime?” Wes asks.

“Nope,” Avery responds simply, cigarette held up to his mouth.

“A’right. You make it back to the room safe then, okay?” Wes’s voice sounds so strained that Avery could almost mistake his tone for guilt. He makes it a few feet closer to the door before he pauses— again— hesitating seems to be a skill he’s gotten good at. “Want me to walk back with you?”

“Nope,” he lies through his teeth. 

#ive been going through editing and came across this scene again yesterday #ah... 19 year olds and their poor emotional regulation skills... #avery #wesley

[huffle-dork]

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 2: Switch

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix

Read Swapboys | Read Switch | Read SwitchSwap | AO3 Link

Prologue | Chapter 1 Taglist: @brokentimewatch

It's not too long before two cars pull up to the train station. Out of the first one steps a tall dark-skinned person with chin-length hair. They talk with Anti briefly, demanding an explanation but accepting that this isn't the time and leaving with Will, who Anti gives a short hug before he heads out. And out of the second one--

"Why the FACK can we not have five minutes of peace in our goddamn lives?!" Schneep looks pissed and annoyed, but he softens when he sees Bro. "Ah... good to see you again, of course, but it seems there is bad news, too."

Bro shrinks a bit at Schneep's anger but he also can't help but laugh because, same. "haha- I feel that bro..." He then looks scared and bites his lip. "Yeah... I need to find Alt... who knows what Mag is doing to him... or to one of your guys- i think... he really wanted Jameson last time, didn't he?"

Jackie sighs. "Are you okay? Anti said something about you healing really fast, but I can take a look, if you want. I've patched up this guy often enough." He vaguely gestures at Schneep.

Bro then looks back at Jackie and tries to smile, lifting up his singed shirt. "Uh- you can try, if you like. I dunno if it's like... good or not. I don't really... get checked often. Gotta keep go go going, you know? Hero work is never done..."

Dr. Parker can see the edges of the burn are a bit darker, tinged green. But the main part seems pretty much filled with healing skin, raised and pink. A bit hot to the touch but also cracking and Bro squirms uncomfortably. "Fucking shit- god i hate how it itches, jesuss!"

"Sorry," Jackie mumbles. "I didn't really bring anything to treat ichiness." He crouches to get a closer look. "...well, it's definitely healing, but there's some green... tinge here. It might be because of magic. In which case, I'm not qualified to do anything.”

Bro nods and pushes himself to sit up straighter, "S'probably the magic- green fire sucks ass, it lingers a bit longer than I would like. But thanks for checking, Doc."

"No problem," Jackie smiles. "Happy to help. If you feel up to move, we should go meet up with JJ and Marvin. I think—"

Before he can continue, Anti's phone starts to ring. Well, not ring, it's on silent, but the vibration is loud and noticeable. "Shit, sorry," he says, pulling it out. He looks at the Caller ID and frowns in confusion. Then picks it up. "What is it? Whoa!" He holds the phone away from his ear. On the other side a man is yelling. "Fucking shit, calm down! You scared the bejeezus out of me. I—what? Sam? I..." He glances at the others. "Hang on, you all keep talking." He turns to the side and listens to the call.

Bro readjusts himself after being checked on and then jumps slightly at Anti’s exclamation.

"That is probably not good," Schneep mutters. "Neither is it good that Magnificent may be in our world." He laughs. "Though I do wonder now... He has other magic, but those tricks... I wonder if..."

Jackie gives him an odd look. "I don't think we should go testing stuff like that out. We need to come up with some way to get Chase and Alt home--and Magnificent, too."

Bro looks back and studies Schneep with curiously, "Wait testing what out? You got something you think could help against Mag, Volt??"

"Heh." Schneep gives him a wan smile. "Well... a lot has changed since we got sucked into your universe. I do not... wish to discuss it too much, but I will simply say that our villain's illusions and manipulation no longer works on me." If Bro looks close, he'll notice that Schneep is playing with his hands in an odd way. Running a finger down the side of his left hand.

Bro looks excited by this and he grins, "Hey! Maybe that will work- but... I dunno- Mag's magic is... weird. I guess- I dunno much about magic though."

“How'd you get here, by the way?” Jackie asks, “Anti didn't fill in those details in the group chat. Only something about Magnificent doing shit. Do you remember anything specific? If we want to get you back home, it'd be easiest to do it the same way... probably."

Chase looks back at Jackie and nods, "Ah right- so he... he took Alt from our house, puppeted him in a super horrible way that isn't.... like him- not unless he's desperate. and he was... cuz he found this like... doorway thingy- But he needed Alt to glitch to work it. He used his magic and alt's glitches and then there was like- an explosion and i... woke up on the train tracks." He then frowns and tries to remember, "mmm... i dunno if something like that would be here... it was in some shady basement of this fucked up agency we have in our world- calls themselves Sclera."

"That's a werid name for an evil organization," Jackie says absentmindedly. "What is a shlcerla? I mean--sclera?" He sounds the word out carefully.

Schneep sighs. "Jackie, I thought you were a doctor."

"I am! That doesn't mean I know everything! Why, do you know about a sclera?"

"I do." Schneep grins smugly. "I wondered if there was a word for it in English, turns out, yes. It is the white part of your eye."

Jackie is silent for a moment. "Part of an eye... Like an iris?"

Schneep's grin fades.

Jackie turns to look at Bro. "We might have something like that here. There's this group called IRIS, they study weird shit. Anomalies. They call them ALTRs. And they... do a lot of fucked up stuff besides that." He glances at Schneep, then quickly looks away. "Maybe they'll have something to help. I think... I think I heard about them talking about other worlds..."

Bro also seems to pale, gripping slightly over his heart. "... Sclera does that too- but... with magic." He narrows his eyes and thinks, "If Iris is like Sclera then.... then yeah- that might be our best bet..." He shudders though but tries to hide it. "God- I hate places like that though- fucking freaky scientific-messed-up bullshit..."

Schneep looks at him sympathetically. He opens his mouth to say something, but--

"Fuck!" Anti shouts, drawing everyone's attention. "Okay, take Sam home and make sure they're okay, okay?! The rest of us will check on them. Yes, I'm sure! Yeah! No, stay there. Don't--don't let anything happen to you." His voice softens. "Be careful. Okay. Bye." He hangs up and spins around to look back at everyone else. "Okay. So. Chase was right. Magnificent is fighting Jameson."

Chase zips up to his feet, eyes wide, "Oh no! I hate when I'm right!" He curses and then adjusts his utility belt, pulling out his phone and looks about ready to burst into the air. "Okay where is he?? We can't- we can't let Mag get him again!"

"He's by the bus stop by his house," Anti says.

"Fuck! That's far!" Schneep curses.

"Not if I run red lights!" Jackie's head snaps towards his car, then back to Bro. "Hey, can you fly or do you need a lift?"

Bro nods and shoots into the air to hover, "I'll fly ahead! I know the look of Mag's magic by now, just point me in the right direction!"

"It's that way!" Anti points. "West and a bit south. We'll head there on our own. Remember to text us if you need to, calls might not work!"

Meanwhile, Schneep grabs Jackie and starts pulling him towards the car.

Bro nods, storing away his phone. "Right! Be careful!" He then blasts into the air and follows Anti's instructions, trying to push himself to fly as fast as he- scanning the area below for any signs of magic.

"Good luck!" Jackie calls. Then the three of them run to the car.

-----------

That was risky, JJ says.

Marvin smiles at him. "But it paid off, didn' it?" He pushes his cards back into a single deck on the dining room counter.

I suppose. JJ pauses. He somehow...drained some of my magic. I still feel...weak.

"Really? Fuckin' bastard..." Marvin mutters, then frowns. "T'at shouldn' be possible, t'ough. It should've brough' you back to the state you were in before. Did I do somet'ing wrong...?"

JJ shakes his head. You didn't do anything wrong, he reassures him. This is just... tricky.

Before Marvin can respond, there's a knock at the door. "They're here already?" Marvin says, surprised. "Okay, I'll get it." He heads into the entrance hall and opens the door.

But instead of any of his friends, Alt Brody falls into their house.

Alt was resting against the door as soon as he knocked on it- and as soon as it opens he stumbles forward, his head heavy. But, it's momentarily cleared of fog as he raises his red stained face to meet Marvin's eyes. He's still gripping his arm, magic pulsing weakly. "...m'rvin... moore...?" He slurs, confusion clear on his face. Then, he feels a wave of dizziness crash onto him that has him falling towards the ground.

"What the--?!" Marvin shoots forward and barely manages to catch Alt. He almost falls himself in the process but stays up. For now. "Jems! It's--it's t'at Anti from the other world!"

JJ rushes into the the front hall. He gasps at what he sees. What's wrong with him?!

"I don' know! Ah--a little help?" His legs are starting to go out.

JJ nods and hurries over, transfering support of Alt from Marvin to him. Living room, he signs awkwardly. Marvin nods, and the two of them move into the other room, where they set Alt down on the sofa.

There's a voice in Alt's mind. So familiar. {This is good,} it says. {Do as you would for now. But that man with the mustache...you should try to get rid of him when you have the chance. Knock him out...or worse. That'd be good, too. That would make me happy~}

Alt's eyes seem distant as something whispers in his ears, letting the others take him and move him into the living room. Even when hes out on the couch, He's still for a second, staring out ahead. Then, he shakes out this head and looks in between Marvin and Jameson. He feels really sick, his body is shaking in a way he can't really control. But... he knows these guys... right? He weakly shakes his head again and tries to stop the trembling in his corrupted arm.

"Are you alrigh', lad?" Marvin asks.

"..hngh... n-no- not... r-really..." Alt pants, feeling faint and leans back against the back of the sofa. "M-Mag... Mag did somethin' to... to m'magic... s'hurts... and I... i dunno... what's...." His eyelids flutter like he's ready to pass out again but he shakes his head to try to stay awake. "m'broth'r... i... i needa find Chase...I... I gotta s-stop Mag..."

JJ frowns. Who?

"Oh! Yes, Chase!" Marvin nods. "He was the one who isn' here, remember?"

Understanding dawns on JJ's face and he nods. Yes, he's the one Anti mentioned. Don't worry, Alt, our Anti saw him, he's fine and on his way. He uses the same name sign for Alt as the Henrik in Alt's universe: A-lightning.

"As for Magnificent, the bastard..." Marvin grumbles. "I'm sure he'll be comin' to us sooner or later. We have time to prepare."

Yes, get some rest and recover, Alt, JJ adds.

Alt seems comforted by seeing a familar sign, his chest suddenly aching for his friend. But, Hen would be in danger here... its good he's still back home. He almost wants to nod to them- he wants to relax- when he stiffens, blood starting to try to leak out of his eye again.

{Just wait here? Wait for him to come for you? No, that seems like a bad idea, doesn't it? They're trying to stop us from going after him.}

"... w-we can't j'ust wait here... w-we'll be just s-sitting ducks! We... we gotta... gotta stop him... s'mehow..." Alt's brain was fuzzy on the details- god he'd give anything to use his magic right now. He needs... he needs to get rid of this corruption.

He looks up at Jameson, head fuzzy as its assaulted with suggestions. Knock him out. Or worse. Make me happy. get rid of him. "y... you... do you know how... how to get rid'f dark magic...?" He shakily holds out his arm to Jameson, showing off the claws marks that match the ones on his own. Though, Alt's seem much more severe, pulsing with purple magic with every tremor of his muscles. JJ's are dark like stains- more just a sign of what was used to steal his magic.

JJ tries to hide his alarm at the marks on Alt's arm--and the ones on his own. We don't have to deal with black magic on a regular basis like you do, JJ says, but I'm sure I have a purification spell upstairs somewhere. I can check my book of shadows.

"T'at's a great idea," Marvin says. "We can take care of t'at, and t'en we'll talk about how to stop Magnificent."

JJ nods. He turns and starts leaving the room, heading towards the stairs.

{Go with him.} The voice comes with a bit more of a push than the last times. Some fog rolls in with the command.

Alt doesn't hesitate to push himself off the couch, the command to follow JJ filling his head with nothing else. He doesn't even look at Marvin as he stumbles after the magician.

This was good... he can get this black magic fixed... and then get rid of the magician.

"Alt...?" Marvin stares, confused, as Alt follows JJ upstairs. It's not too weird, maybe he just wants to get the magic taken care of right away, but... Was it just him, or was there something... on Alt's face? Just in case, he hurries back to the kitchen where he left the cards.

JJ glances back at Alt. Oh, you want to come? Alright, I'd be happy to show you my workroom. He smiles and continues up the stairs.

The workroom is halfway through being reorganized, with some of the books on the shelves and desks where they're supposed to be and some on stacked on the floor around the central table. And on the table itself is a black crystal sphere, nestled on a purple cushion.

Alt nods to Jameson, and looks dazedly around the house and the workroom as he's lead through.

When Alt looks at the crystal, he sees flickers of other people's faces in the reflection. They all look familiar, and yet... different. Some are wearing masks. Some are children. And there's one with a slit neck, green strings holding it closed.

Alt pauses and stares at the crystal, eyes widening slightly as he saw the visions within them. What... what was-

But none of this is important.

Oh. It didn't matter. Any concern that was trying to surface was quickly stuffed under heavy fog.

JJ goes right for the desk, sorting through the books there until he finds what he's looking for. He then skims that book, and after a few seconds, smiles triumphantly. Hand me your arm, he says, putting the open book on the desk.

It takes a second for Alt to react to Jameson, more blood slithering down his face. But, he turns and wordlessly offers his corrupted arm to him, staring intensely at his face.

JJ gently takes Alt's arm. He hesitates for a moment, glancing back at the instructions in the book. His eyes start glowing a bright blue, and that same blue light encases his hands. He carefully presses his palm against the claw marks. A cooling magic washes over the marks. It takes a couple waves, but soon the corruption of the dark magic disappears.

There we are, JJ says, letting go of Alt's arm and smiling at him.

...Wait.

Something... Something is wrong...

Jameson blinks. He squints at Alt's face. What is...

It's blood.

Jameson gasps and takes a step back. How did he not notice it before?!

{Now.}

The second the black magic is cleared, electric magic builds up around Alt and he starts to glitch again. Then, he throws out a hand and sends a wave of blue green electricity at Jameson.

Jameson lets out a little squeak--the closest to a shout he can manage right now-- and throws up a clumsy shield. Luckily, it blocks most of the electricity. What gets through isn't enough to shock him. Alt, snap out of it! he signs, backing up. He doesn't have the magic for another fight after Magnificent drained him. And he doesn't want to fight Alt! Glancing around, he rushes for the open doorway.

That familiar sign has Alt hesitating, something trying to spark in his foggy mind. But, that hesitation quickly leaves as Jameson starts to run. Alt tries to glitch in front of him, throwing out more barrages of charged magic.

Jameson skids to a halt, surprised by Alt's sudden appearance. Before he can recover or try that new teleportation spell again, Alt is throwing electric magic at him. Again he tries to conjure a shield but the magic breaks through this time. This time he manages a scream as the magic shocks across his skin.

Downstairs, Marvin's head snaps up at the sound of JJ's cry. "Jems?!" he gasps. He runs for the stairs, tightening his grip on his cane and the cards, already thinking of what combination could help. Was it Alt? Had he really seen what he thought?!

Alt doesn't hesitate again to glitch towards Jamie- and this time he attempts to grab Jameson's neck and then throw him into the wall, pressing hard against his throat. There's no recognition in his eyes as blood pools out of them. He thinks he might hear another voice- but its faint and it doesn't matter. He needs to get rid of the magician.

Jameson gasps in surprise when Alt grabs him. He pulls at his hands, trying to pry them away before something could happen--!

And he manages to push Alt away just in time. He scrambles backwards across the floor until he hits the central table. The black crystal ball is almost jostled from it's spot.

A voice comes from down the hall. "H-hang on, Jems!" Marvin shouts. He's struggling with the stairs, pushing himself faster.

Jameson nods. He ducks his head and crosses his arms. A blue dome appears around him, wavering for a second before solidifying.

Alt tsks quietly under his breath and then lashes out and throws lightning magic over and over at the shield. Trying to get it to crack-

The shield shudders with every hit, but it doesn't break. And yet JJ knows it will only be a matter of time. He feels his strength failing.

"Jems! Alt!" And then Marvin rushes forward, almost collapsing in the doorway of the room. He takes in the situation quickly--yes, he thought it was something like that.

Alt pauses in his attack to turn towards Marvin, regarding him with a slight head tilt. He's panting slightly, sweat dripping down his face and his hands trembling. His magic is being depleted really quickly so soon after getting drained by that curse. Yet, he needs to keep going. He has to.

Quickly, Marvin bends over and places three cards on the ground in a triangle formation: Five of Diamond - Six of Heart - Queen of Spade

Jameson's shield is reinforced, curving golden lines running over itse surface in a geometric pattern. He breathes easier.

Marvin hears a voice in his head. {That's not really fair, is it? Have you forgotten whose side your on? Or are you too afraid to remember?} He flinches, pushing away the accompanying fog.

At the same time, Alt hears it say something different. {A friend of ours has lost his way...so sad. He shouldn't be here. Make him leave.}

.... he lost his way? Well... Alt hated using these spells but- if they needed to convince Marvin then... Alt flares out a hand to his side, and a collection of glitches forms beside him- and then forms a wobbly electric field of magic that swirls in hues of green blue and white. Though the edges are harsher than Mag's, the colors are soothing and easy to look at. Maybe they could just lull you to sleep... make you forget all your pain, just for a second.

Marvin isn't expecting it. He looks down for a moment, fumbling with the cards--he'll need to use five or more, he's not leaving this to chance--and when he looks up again... there it is. An electric spiral hovering next to Alt. What? How... strange. But... nice. Marvin's eyes trace the spiral's motion, the ever-inward movement. His eyelids feel heavy all of a sudden.

JJ sees what's happening. "Marv--!" he tries to shout, but it breaks off into a wheezing exhale. The reinforcement around his shield stays--it will stay until the card formation is disrupted--but Marvin's other cards flutter to the floor, followed shortly by him collapsing to his knees, eyes blinking slowly...

"Sleep." Alt drones out to Marvin, watching him coldly and emotionlessly, pushing magic into his words.

He thinks he hears something slamming open from downstairs- but he's focused on his task. Nothing else matters. He doesn't even consider anything else is wrong until suddenly he's being tackled to the ground, his head hitting it hard enough for him to see spots.

"O-Oh my god, Alt!" A man in a pink mask is gasping desperately over him, looking worried. ...why...? No no wait- he's... he's important- he's so so important. Alt makes a choked noise of pain, the fog in his head hurting all of sudden. No no no its hurts- why does it hurt?

"C- Ch...!" Alt tries to choke out, shaky hand trying to grab onto his jacket.

For the others- as soon as Jameson shouted out, Bro flew past a house with bright lights flickering in different hues in the windows. He recognized the color of some of them- and it wasn't Mag... it was Alt!

He hurried down to the door of the apartment then tried to doorknob- not wanting to cause too much damage to the house. By some miracle it was open and Bro skids in and looks around, shouting out, "Alt?! ALT!!"

He sees the hues of blue and greens and doesn't hesitate to fly up the stairs- and hovers just a bit above them to see his brother trying to entrance Marvin. He yells out and tackles Alt back farther into the room- the magic bursting into pixels as the two boys crash into the bookshelves in the corner. Marvin can feel the influence leave him like he's waking up from being underwater.

Marvin gasps, starting backwards. JJ stares with wide eyes at Chase and Alt. His shield finally disappears as he stands up and scrambles over to Marvin's side. He reaches down to help him up.

"I-I... what?" Marvin shakes the image of that spiral out of his mind. "Th-t'at was—he can do t'at...?" he whispers. Then he looks up at JJ. "A-are you... alrigh'...?"

JJ smiles weakly. I should be asking you that.

"'M... fine. Physic'lly." Marvin takes JJ's hand and lets him pull him to his feet. In unison, the two of them turn and stare at Alt and Bro. "Y-you're the—the hero from the other world. Chase. Chase!" Marvin shakes his head again. "Chase, Alt's bein'—Distorter's in his head, I—oh!" And then Marvin gets back down on the ground and starts gathering up the cards. "T-try to get t'rough to him, if you can', I-I can try somet'ing!"

Bro looks back at the others and seems to relax at seeing they're both okay. "H-Hey- glad you two aren't hurt-" He then makes a face and his eyes glow with hatred as he looks down at the power that's taken over his brother. "Right... that bitch. Okay- lemme see what I can do!"

{Shhh. Shhhh.} The voice hisses in Alt's mind, like the comforting sound of rain falling. {Don't worry. You don't have to worry about anything. Shhh. Let me take care of this.}

Alt's eyes glaze over more as the voice of his friend comforts him. His hand falls back down and he lays limply on the ground, head lolling to look out past Bro. Nothing but the sound of rain blanking his mind, like what he would listen to in his headphones when sound was too much. His mind is calm and still- Even though his body is panting and shaking and trembling- he can't feel it at all.

"No No! fuck- Anti! C'mon lil bro, stay with me!" Chase whispers desperately, trying to shake Alt's shoulders.

Then, Chase hears something in his mind, too. {Oh? So where were you when your brother appeared right outside my house? Where? Why weren't you there with him? You don't care, I see. You're right not to. He doesn't care about you. He barely knows you, really, he wouldn't give two shits if you just died.}

Bro winces as the voice slithers into his head. He closes his eyes and then growls out, "No shut up! I do care- we know each other better than anyone! You're the one who doesn't care- or you wouldn't be running him ragged!"

He shakes Alt more, pleading, "Alt c'mon! Wake up!"

"Shit," Marvin curses, watching Chase and Alt. He has all his cards gathered, now he just needs to find the right ones! "H-hang on, you two! Jems, can you--I-I dunnae, help t'em?"

Distorter doesn't respond to Chase, instead continuing to speak to Alt. {Look, Anti... it's Magnificent. He's right in front of you. It's time to show him how you really feel. You're so much stronger than him, right? I believe you are.}

Alt's eyes narrow and flood with green and blue magic as Distorter makes him see Magnificent in front of him. His shoulders start to glitch, electricity building up around him. He starts to latch back onto Chase- then his arm is grabbed and-

JJ looks Alt. He doesn't have much magic left right now, but he can try. Maybe... He steps forward, up next to Chase, and grabs Alt's arm. His eyes flare blue, and frost suddenly flares from the point of contact, flashing sudden cold through Alt's system. It won't work if he's too deep in, but maybe...

It's like the gray is blown away by an icy chill, startling Alt back into his own mind with a painful jolt. He gasps, back arching as the connection breaks. He slumps back towards the floor and dazedly looks back and forth between Bro and Jameson. "..h..how did I...?" He then winces and curls his face into the ground, groaning softly. "F-Fuck..! My head...!"

Bro slumps with relief and then lifts Alt up and crushes him in a hug. "Oh thank fucking christ! God... god.... you fucking scared me Alt..." He buries his face in his brother's shoulders for a bit before letting go and helping to sit against the floor. Alt just dazedly lets him, trying to take everything in.

JJ lets go of Alt, slumping in relief. He was so glad that worked. He was so worried... But it was fine. It was all fine. It was Distorter, he explains to Alt. You remember him, right? Do you... know where you are right now, Alt? And is there... anything you need?

"I...I'm..." Alt swallows shakily and goes to hold his arms and curls up on himself. It was really hard to piece things together- but... he knows these guys. JJ and Marvin... this must be... their world. Once he thinks this though, he remembers how they got here and he gasps, looking around at the others in panic. "M-Mag-! Magnificent! He's here- he's...! He's trying to get to other universes- and-!" He then takes in the slight claw marks on Jameson's arm and he looks back at him with a pale face. "... shit- did he already...?"

"Wait what?? He already got you??" Bro asks, looking at JJ with worry. "Fuck! I flew so fast to try to stop that! Damn that slippery cat goddd im gonna skin him one of these days!"

JJ looks down at his own arm. Right... the marks. He could feel the effects, but he forgot they were visible. I'm fine, he reassured them. He did... somehow drain some of my magic, but... I'll recover with enough time and rest.

"They're righ', t'ough," Marvin says from the doorway. "We need t'stop him before that bastard does anyt'ing too big to recover from. If you're goin' to skin him, tell me so I can join." He chuckled.

Well... Jameson pauses thoughtfully. If he was trying to get to other universes, he succeeded. I don't know what we're going to stop him from now.

"Uh, how 'bout we stop him from murderin' us? Or from whatever he did to you! Or from doin' all t'at..." Marvin waves his hands around his head. "All t'at shit."

JJ chuckled, then turned serious again. You're right. I suppose I'm just a bit tired. This was a lot. He turns to Alt and Chase. Our house is warded against all sorts of nonhuman intruders. Distorter can't get in, but Magnificent might be able to. We'll be safe... briefly. Do you know of anyone else from your universe who could be here? Or is it just you two and him?

"It's just us this time," Bro sighs, "He got the jump on Alt and made him use this- weird doorway thingy! He almost got away with just Alt- god that would have been bad..."

Alt shudders and holds himself tightly, "If i was drained doing the spell... then Mag probably was too... which is why he tried to find the nearest source of magic. Then he'd... god... I... I don't know... h-he made puppets of you all once but- not even as himself... That was Distorter too... I dunno if he'd stick around for that though... and i... i dont think he'd kill you all... not yet at least. He... He likes making people useful to him. Or keeping trophies..." He grips tighter on his arms, digging his nails in. "h-he might just be trying to get to the next universe somehow... since he's experienced this one... in a way." The glitch hates that he's been around Mag long enough to know his thought pattern but... he did work with him for a long time.

Bro makes a face as he thinks and then perks up, "Oh! Yeah! I need to message the others! They were gonna be driving here! Then they uh- they mentioned someplace we can try to see might have something to help- somewhere callleedd ah fuck what was it- its like Sclera!" He scrunches his face and looks up to think. "...what do you call the colored part of your eye?"

"Iris-" Alt mutters.

"Iris! Yeah that was it!" Bro whips out his phone and sends a text to Anti. I found JJ and Alt! Mag got to JJ but hes okay- and Alt was affected by Distorter... anyways! JJ and Marvin were here so i guess we're in their house :)

Marvin and JJ stiffen. JJ looks back at him. Do you think IRIS could help?

"I... s'ppose," Marvin mutters, shuffling his card deck. "Probably. Yes. They... like t'is sort of stuff. Time and space and all t'at. So the question is jus'... which one of their places we go to t'find somet'ing helpful."

I don't think either of us are... the most qualified to answer that question, JJ says.

Meanwhile, Chase gets an answering text: Great we're reall close then. Just a few minutes and well be there.

Soon after, JJ and Marvin's phones both ding. They take them out and read the text that Anti just sent THEM.

"They're on th'way," Marvin reports.

JJ nods. Let's all head downstairs and wait for them. He turns and looks at the bookshelves Chase and Alt ran into. He frowns. You've ruined my shelves.

Marvin bursts into laughter. "Is--is t'at really your priority?"

I've spent a couple days organizing them. That one's all...ker-fobbled now.

"Did ye really jus' spell out t'at nonsense word?"

Chase looks back up and then blushes, getting to his feet, "Ah fuck! I'm sorry! I just- acted on instinct! I'm not that tired i could reorganize them if you want!"

Alt glitches to his feet and then shoves Bro towards the door. "Let's focus on the important stuff, Chase- like getting back home and stopping the evil maniac thats skulking through town?"

"...oh yeah-"

Alt shoves him more out the door, "My god you're impossible... did you take your meds today?!"

"'course I did but a lot is happening, Alt!"

Alt rolls his eyes then glitches downstairs.

Marvin giggles. Then he stops. The others couldn't hear the voice he just did. {You know fixing this won't get rid of me. We're stuck together. Embrace it now.} After a second, he shakes off the uneasy feeling and finally stands up, using his cane as support. "Yea, let's all go downstairs. We can settle the IRIS t'ing t'ere when the others arrive."

Alt finds the same space the others put him on earlier and slowly goes to curl up, holding his headphones and hiding his face behind his knees. He never thought he'd be so far away from home without his mask...

Bro watches Alt vaguely then sticks by the others, ready to help if they needed it. He wants to make sure they get down okay first- especially with JJ looking so spent.

JJ notices Chase sticking by. He smiles at him tiredly. Don't worry, I'm not actually mad. It was an emergency. And I understand the, ah, mile-a-minute effect, if you know what I mean.

"We shoul' lock you and Jems and Jackie in an empty room, see how insane you all become," Marvin mutters. "C'mon, Mr. Fantastic." He starts walking down the hallway. A bit slower than usual, but he did run up the stairs. The energy had to come from somewhere.

That's a different superhero, JJ says, following him. A fictional one.

"As far as we know! If other universes are real, perhaps all stories are, too!"

JJ smiles. He glances back at Chase to make sure he's following.

Chase laughs and then hovers over the others as they go down the stairs. “Oh yeah! Jackieboy- the one from our universe- he’s a hugeee comic nerd- gave me an earful once about my name being so close to that guy’s but I didn’t know! I didn’t read comics?? I had like… rugby to play and shit- pints to drink…”

Ah, you were one of those uni people, huh? I don't know why I'm surprised. JJ smiles again. I was a theatre major, which, I'm told, says everything about me and how I acted in uni.

"Imagine goin' to a second'ry school," Marvin says.

You mean a university?

Marvin pauses. "Well, I finished primary school, at least." JJ raises an eyebrow. "Don' give me t'at look, do you know how hard t'at was to do under my circumstances?!"

I'm very proud of you, Marvin. Sincerely.

Bro touches down to the steps once he’s sure the others are fine and then glances back at the living room. He sees his brother all curled up and his heart aches. He slowly makes his way over and sits down next to him. He waits a beat- then opens one arm to Alt’s backside but doesn’t move, waiting to see how Alt would respond.

Alt blinks up at Bro and seems to hesitate. But then he slowly adjusts so he can lay his head on Bro’s shoulder. Chase wraps a light around Alt’s back and the glitch seems to relax some.

“….I hate this.” Alt whispers weakly to Chase, trying to hide the frustrated tears wanting to leak out of his eyes. He scrubs hard at the drying blood on his face.

Chase closes his eyes and leans against Alt’s head. “I know…”

“I mean… im… im glad to see these guys again… just…” Alt shudders and curls up more. “…I know it’s good they’re not here but… I miss the others…”

“Yeah…” Bro sighs. He then presses light lips to his brother’s head, “We’ll figure it out though…”

Alt nods and hides his face against his brother’s shoulder.

Jameson and Marvin join Chase and Alt in the living room, noticing the way the two of them are acting with each other. They exchange looks, then decide not to say or do anything to interrupt the moment. "Won' be long now," Marvin says, going over to sit in his usual chair. "Jus' a few more minutes."

————

Frustratingly for Magnificent, he seems to have appeared in an area with few magicians or otherwise magic people. Sure, the city at large is very magical, but the west and south neighborhoods are odd dry spots. There are occasional empty houses full of spellbooks and the occasional talisman, but great amounts of magic are few... except for Jameson Jackson, of course, lessened as his magical signature is now that he's drained.

The dark magician curses as he comes up short on any other magic sources. Guess it was time to go back to what he knew- that Jameson could still prove useful to him, if he could find where he escaped to. And well- remembering the bonds between his puppet and his friends- where jj was- so would his failure crippled counterpart would be. It would be good to get rid of such weakness.

Flaring his eyes- he tries to locate that faint spark of Jameson’s magic.

It’s hard to find, but it’s there, glowing faintly… in the opposite direction he’s been walking all this time. How ironic.

Magnificent curses to himself- he'd been walking in the complete wrong way! Cheeky little magician... what a rookie mistake.

But as he stands there trying to locate it… he hears a voice. A voice that sounds like it’s coming from right next to him. “I knew I’d see you eventually.”

Mag freezes hearing that voice and whirls around, hurtling magic towards the voice. "You-!"

The attack misses, because Distorter is not at all where his voice was coming from. Now there’s laughter on Magnificent’s other side. Distorter is sitting on a house’s doorstep, watching casually. “Last time we met because of an accident, but not this time. You came here on purpose, right?” He stands up, head tilting to the side. “Couldn’t make it back home so you decided to try somewhere new? Hoping you wouldn’t fail as much here?”

Magnificent bares his teeth for a second but then stands up taller and tries to stay composed. He smirks, “A being like you couldn’t possibly understand my ambitions. You’re stuck as this- dead thing. But, I’m pushing past my limits. You’re just a speck in the grand scheme of things, cadaver.”

"It's funny how you think you're more than that. Cute, even." Distorter puts a hand on his cheek, a silent gesture of "awww." "You'll die too one day. There's no magic to stave that off forever. And even if you somehow find something that does, do you think it will change your core? Strip away my powers, I'm just a dead guy. Strip away yours and you're just a man with abandonment issues and a mean dad. There's a million of those."

Magnificent tries to keep his expression schooled, even as the demon claws at his inner most fears, his deepest feelings he's long tried to supress. He'd never admit it but yes- He's afraid to die. But, this was to that end. However, the last comments ignite rage in the mad magician as he lashes out with a wild yell and tries to grab where he sees Distorter.

Distorter doesn't move as Mag lunges at him, not even as his claws dig into his flesh. "Looks like I struck a nerve there~!" he sings. Still smiling. Always smiling.

Magnificent yells more and slams the cadaver into the ground, trying to choke him as his eyes light up with power. "Shut up! Don't you dare- dare compare me to any other lowly human! I am more- I am MAGNIFICENT!" He digs his claws in tighter and snarls, "I will not be judged by a being so consumed by sadness for a life that was obviously as meaningless as your very existence."

Distorter's grin widens. He doesn't breathe so the choking isn't bothering him, but he does need air to talk and so can't respond. Instead he reaches up, blackened nails scraping the edge of Magnificent's mask... and all of a sudden he doesn't look like himself anymore. He looks like Jackie--the one Magnificent remembers.

Magnificent's eyes widen in shock. It's instinctual- he lets go of Distorter and backs up, looking at him in confusion. But, then he snarls and teleports back, lighting his hands on fire to try to seem threatening. "No-! No I- I won't fall for your tricks, demon!"

Laughing, Distorter sits up, then stands. The movement is just a bit too fast to be natural. “It’s not a trick,” he says. “It’s a distraction.” And then he attacks—not physically. Mentally, psychic claws digging for a grip in Mag’s mind.

Magnificent looks caught off guard again then yells out as a powerful force is slammed onto his mind. He cries out and falls to his knees, gripping at his skull. Green light tries to ignite in his good eye, trying to push back the force. "N-No! You- You can't...!"

“I can’t? Then how am I doing it?” Distorter steps up to him, leaning down so their eyes are level. “Our goals aren’t really that different you know. And this is my home. It’d be so much easier if you let me show you the way.”

Mag meets distorter's eyes with hatred, snarling. "You- You overpowered when I was weak before- I-! I won't be bested by you ag-" He then pauses, the mental load slamming more against his mind as Distorter's logic tries to worm itself in. To Magnificent though, it feels like he's letting the wheels turn himself, figuring out a plan. Would it be so bad... to team up? They almost brought down their enemies together last time, but Magnificent hardly remembered himself. "... you... don't want to help me-" The dark magician breathes, though he seems unsure of that statement, narrowing his eyes at the other villain.

"Why wouldn't I want to? I don't hate you." Distorter's smile hides the half-lie. He does mildly dislike the dark magician, but he was so useful that he was willing to put up with it. "And helping you would help me, too. We could do so much together."

Magnificent's eyes are starting to slip- the pressure on his head becoming too much. Why- fight it though?

Because he didn't need anyone else! He was powerful enough on his own- he didn't need help!

Are you really going to look a gift horse in the mouth, sorcerer? You're in a foreign world- already weakened. Take what you can get.

Mag's furious expression starts to fall, face slacking. His claws loosen from his skull as he better looks Distorter in the eyes. "...we could... could do so much...together."

"Exactly." Distorter offers a hand to help pull Magnificent up. "I know where they are now, but I don't think they'll stay there for long. Your cub and that hero want to get back to their world soon, and the others have an idea to help them. We need to hurry."

For a fraction of a second, Mag hesitates. But then he lets himself get helped up and nods, blood welling up in one of his eyes. "Alright. Show me."

Distorter's grin widens. "I think I know where they're going. We can intercept them, take them off guard. Follow me."

#swap into the crystalverse #swapboys #switch au #alt anti #bro fantastic #swap magnificent #programmer anti #1920's marvin #the jaunty jackson #distorter #von voltage #dr. jackie parker #this is one of my fav parts from the switch section :) #you'll see why GHVJB #SITCV switch

[joeyvotto]

its just fucking dumb how every vague support of palestinians needs to be qualified with well HAMAS is BAD idk. its hard for me to take that shit in good faith i guess

[aspd-culture]

I asked this before but you said Tumblr ate up the response so whenever you have the spoons or if you ever want to answer this again, what is the “switch” in ASPD? No pressure to answer of course!

So the “switch” described by many pwASPD is an (as far as I know) undocumented/unresearched phenomenon where as a child, we feel the symptoms go from a soft and vague worldview that could easily be re-evaluated and changed if given reason to do so, to a hardened “filter” over how we see the world. For me, it happened when the one person who had all the time in the world to teach me about anything I was confused about in the world and to do it while respecting my intelligence for what it was, rather than what they *thought* it should be based on my age, passed away. All at once, the second I accepted he was gone forever, so too was the part of me who trusted and cared for people.

In that moment, it felt for me as though a physical switch was flipped inside my head. The idea that there are people who will help you and give you reason to believe people can be good and gentle and be relied on to be that way at all times fell apart in an instant. Maybe it’s because of the way the people around me handled his passing, maybe it’s because I felt not just abandoned but personally wronged by him and by g*d, maybe it’s because some part of me knew the grief would kill me if I were to feel it and try and stay the person I was trying to be. Whatever it was, I remember the last sentence I thought as a “prosocial” person before I went cold.

It truly feels like some part of me died that day, as though the child I was shed its skin like a snake and gave way to who I am now. I am a system, and it didn’t feel like an alter going dormant, or integrating, or a hard switch out. It felt like I was definitely still me, but me with a more robotic and detached interest in the world.

Of course, there still are things that could have changed things for me after that age - my “switch” flipped very very young - but as far as I can tell it is probably the point where the brain gives up on an attempt at normal development and shifts into a version of the well-known “survival mode” that it never quite comes out of. I am in no way qualified to say whether that is actually what it is, but that would be what makes the most sense to me.

What we know is that for the people who say they have experienced the “switch flip”, it is almost always after some sort of event or series of events that loses them their faith in humanity and/or the people around them, which is why it so often happens either during a traumatic event or while attempting to recover from one.

As far as we currently are aware because of the lack of research on this, the switch is probably not a point in which you develop ASPD, nor is it likely an event that actually changes your neurology. I would assume that many children who grew up to be prosocial but had the risk factors for ASPD likely have felt this as well, but were supported into coming back from it. However, I would say just from what I remember of myself before and after the switch flipped, it is probably significantly more difficult to do so after that time as it tends to come with a shift to being distrustful and believing anyone attempting to help must have ulterior motives.

In a way, I guess it’s where a child gave up on clinging to the idea of having a normal life and started adapting to and surviving their reality.

#aspd-culture-is #aspd culture is #aspd culture #actually aspd #aspd #aspd awareness #actually antisocial #antisocial personality disorder #aspd traits #anons welcome #tw death mention

[captain-nicnac]

My doctor asked how much "junk food" I eat and I was like yeah I guess I consume a lot of "junk food" especially lately because our fridge is broken so it's hard to keep fresh food. Also I have depression and sometimes I self medicate with pastries.

And she was like you need to eat less junk food.

Hey doc 1) I don't think "junk food" is an actual medical term so how am I supposed to know what qualifies 2) I only gave you a vague answer to your vague question how could you possibly know my eating habits well enough to suggest a diet change

[versegm]

OH FUCK I meant to send you a Director's Commentary thing when you reblogged it BUT I FORGOT anyway how about the deets on "And the Audience Clapped"? (If you're still in the mood)

For you? Always <3

The actual fic has a trigger warning for uh. Everything? The base premise of the fic is "Guda has incredibly disturbing intrusive thoughts and does not react well to them" so even if I don't think I'll get into details in my play by play, tw for thoughts of sexual violence, onscreen self-harm and suicide attempts, and overall blorbo from my show spiralling bad.

My primarily goal when writing this was "I want to see how fucking worse I can make Guda." But I'm a weenie I actually like bad endings so my secondary goal was "but I want it to end well."

I have absolutely no idea if I succeeded. I feel like I chickened out too much tbh (<- squicked out by sexual violence) and as for the ending I'm often told that what I qualify as a "good/okay ending" is often "fucking horrifying" to other people. Still I like the final result so that's everyone else's problem. This was however a nightmare to tag which is why I just went the "choose not to use archive warnings/fuck around and find out" route, because if I tagged everything it would be WAY too long.

Anyways. "What if the player was an outer god." I post about it a lot in a comedic tone over here. I wrote it as self indulgent porn somewhere else. But I really wanted to take it in a more... realistic? Direction I guess? What if things weren't automatically fine and ok because the story demanded it. What if it was in fact an incredibly distressing situation to be in. I don't like writing monsters are villains (not my vibe) but that does not mean the monster loving you & having good intentions should always be an instant smooth sailing. Which really means that Guda will be stuck in intrusive thoughts central for nearly 6k.

Now for a more specific play by play of the fic:

The problem with writing the POV character being possessed is that it is incredibly hard to showcase when "this is something normal from the character" vs "this is someone else speaking through the character" (doubly so when the character themself does not realize the possession is happening) So I was at times less than subtle about it. In case it wasn't clear, this is the player being worried about Guda, and Guda misinterpreting the feeling because "this is someone else's thought" is not typically the first conclusion people would draw. Anytime in the fic where you see Guda having conflicting emotions, or being confused about their own feelings, that was a case of player feelings interfering with their owns.

Outer gods are basically eldritch gods in Fate lore. As such I don't think they really have like. A body the way humans consider it. That's why the fics have various instances of weird fascination towards flesh and how it functions. From the perspective of a god, it'd be like suddenly figuring out how an ancient watch works.

When you're being possessed by someone who is 1) incredibly not fucking normal about your bestie and 2) does not know the difference between intimacy love and violence. Bottom text.

Also a lot of people initially assumed that I picked Castoria in this specific scenario because I, too, am not normal about her. And I mean. That is partially true (tho not to that extent lmao) but also Castoria IS canonically one of the closest people to Guda (& the most likely to realize that something is wrong.) It's not just "I'm having horrible thoughts about some random aquaintances" it's "I love this person with all my heart and I want to give them the world, but I can't even give myself to them because my existence is poison." So double the agony.

This was inspired by one specific scene from Mairimashita!Iruma-Kun, available on mangadex and probably crunchyroll please for the love of god read that manga it fucks SO hard.

When you're an Outer God with only a very vague knowledge of humans and what they look like so instead of focusing on eye color or haircuts you're just fascinated by the fact that this lil one has thirty-two teeth. Bottom text.

This whole section is meant to be "all the times Guda died before the player rebooted the games," so I picked all the hardest boss fights I could think of. There's someone in the comments who asked me months ago if they should pick up a guide for the Cernunnos fight because I brought it up like five times in that paragraph alone. My guy if you are following my blog, yes, you should. You really fucking should.

Also I use second person a lot when writing Guda fic because it's easier (they/them can be confusing when you're writing multiple characters in one setting) but ofc for this fic this also gave me the opportunity to write some moments where the player is directly talking to Guda (or at Guda, rather.)

I wanted to show that while the player was at their most Not Normal about Castoria, they do love everyone in Chaldea, which is why Guda is being more affectionate than usual here.

I'm just really proud of "You imagine lapping at her open wounds, lapping at her wet cunt." Intimacy and violence but also holes and fluids you know how it is.

My bitch Guda who wouldn't wish to bother others & show any weakness if they had a gun to their head.

Christ I can't summarize MHXX's lore concisely, but she is repeatedly compared to a character from a sitcom, hence why her first comparison is to tv shows.

This is meant to be a call-back to that bit earlier where they wonder how hard they'd have to bite to make Castoria bleed.

To lb6 players out there: I was thinking of Gareth writing this line.

I don't remember if I told you, but Castoria has Fairy Eyes, ie is capable of perceiving lies (tho the exact mechanics are unclear.) That's why Guda is being extra stubborn. They can't deny that they're fine because she'll know it's false, so they're trying to dodge the entire conversation.

My bitch Guda who is taking the entire situation soooo well (casually deshumanize themself & considers being dead in the same sentence)

[Castoria voice] why don't you get into bdsm and then maybe you'll feel better.

Anyways, that was blorbo from my game having the worst life of their life! I think I could have done worse, and will endeavor to do so soon. Still damn proud of it tho!

#characteroulette #ask

[seagulley]

Kaija is 18 months old!

Very long and sappy post under the cut. 

I think the short version of this post is just this: the more I get to know this dog the more I grow to love her. There are things we have struggled with of course, but as she slowly matures and her personality develops, those are becoming fewer and fewer, meanwhile the great, amazing things become more and more.

Overall I think Kaija is on the chill side as far as Aussies go, tho I should say that my sample size is basically... one. For a dog who *loves* to do stuff, at this point she's pretty willing to accept off days, although if there's too many in a row then she might get whiny about it. She's still very funny and very soft (her winter coat is coming in and it's nearly as soft now as when she was a puppy, apparently the undercoat is where the softness comes from), and she still struggles to remain connected to the ground (well I guess it's not much of a struggle in that she just... doesn't). She isn't a barky dog at all - on occasion she might bark if I get her extra amped up in play + I think there's been maybe three times when she's barked at the neighbours' dogs going crazy, but that's pretty much it. Instead she expresses her opinions through whining and through other vocalisations that I don't even have a word for.

Kaija is incredibly easy to work with. She forgives my handling mistakes and powers through even if I'm being annoyingly unclear in what I want from her. I'm a very green handler so it helps immensely that she is so resilient and optimistic. Plus, Kaija is easy to motivate, she loves food and will work for kibble if the environment isn't too difficult, and she's had pretty decent toy skills almost from the start. But the best thing is seeing how much she enjoys our training itself. Yes, the rewards are important to her and I'm more than happy to use them liberally, but you can't miss how she lights up when I bring out our training equipment. I think she loves the puzzle of it and getting it right, as well as simply the chance to work together with me.

We'll be ending this year with one last rally trial on the 18th. I'm really hoping for two more >90% scores - we already have two from our previous trial and four is the max before you have to move on to the next class. I think it would be nice to have all four qualifying scores and start getting ready for RO-2 in the spring. That being said, our biggest struggle is still sustaining focus and engagement through the whole course and this will be a brand new indoor venue for us... So we'll see how it goes.

For the first year-ish that I had Kaija, I wasn't sure whether this breed was right for me or whether we were the best fit. I had the puppy blues for a few months and then for a long time I just had this vague feeling that we weren't completely clicking, like something just wasn't fitting quite right. I remember how in the beginning I was so impressed with her spark and willingness to work with me, but I also felt a bit bad because I knew that someone more experienced could do so much more with her. But we're figuring it out together and I'm slowly learning how to be a better teacher to her. Besides, although I do believe she enjoys the work, she isn't obsessive about and it's only one part of what makes a happy Kaija. So maybe a filthy casual owner such as myself is just the sweet spot for her. I'm still not convinced that I'll have more Aussies in the future (I have to say tho, it's getting dangerously difficult to remember exactly why I was so sure I shouldn't), but holy shit is this dog everything to me. 

Ok that's enough gushing about my puppy for now.

#18 months #1 year #dogblr #update #cried multiple times while writing this #*clenches fist* i just love her so damn much #(not to say that everything is perfect now! #i know i only touched on the good stuff in this post but that's only because of how i was feeling when i wrote it #celebratory #i mean this time last year i would still cry at night bc i felt like i had made a huge mistake #and i would constantly want reassurance from my parents that if i couldn't keep her then they would #because i didn't want to return her but i didn't think i could keep her if i lived alone (still not sure how we'll make that work tbh) #so although everything isn't perfect now it is so so so much better than before #that for all intents and purposes it may as well be perfect)

[deeper-x-deeper]

Hey, guess what? This is Tumblr. There is no algorithm to appease. There is no real monetization. You are free to doll out posts at whatever pace they come out. You make good shit.

Take all the time you need to handle the adhd burnout.

thank you, but I think I may have been a bit too vague in that post lmao

I appreciate the kind words, but it seems the root of my stress got misinterpreted and that's likely my bad, so I'll explain slightly more under the break

the issue isn't that I feel guilty for lack of content, it's that I quite literally need to continue being active both here and on more monetizable sites due to circumstances in my real life that have made it difficult to pursue the kind of work I'm currently qualified for (which isn't much)

I'm handling the burnout, and I've been doing really well on the mental health front for a change. but I actually do need to be doing something soon if I want to support myself in any kind of career regardless of it relating to hypnosis.

a lot of my stress and burnout has been from losing my job and suddenly lacking structure and income but gaining a small amount of energy for creative projects, and there's a lot more to it that I don't care to get into

regardless, this is NOT me dismissing the positivity, as I do still appreciate your kind words. but knowing tumblr isn't monetizable isn't exactly comforting to me at this moment, and you had no way of knowing that before sending your message, hence. small explanation

#personal thoughts

[socialorganism]

When you refer to AI art as slop, you're using an antisemitic dogwhistle. Look up "goyslop", if you need further context.

The truth is, that the nazis on 4chan agree with all your criticisms of AI. They believe that it's a tool invented and wielded by lazy thieves who are trying to make our country's youth lazy, stupid, and immoral. Guess who they think the lazy thieves are.

They believe it represents a moral backslide, a degeneration of values and an erosion of the definition of art. Guess how they define real art.

When you say AI art lacks something "human", that it lacks some fundamental quality of the "human spirit", know that you are echoing the sentiments of these fascists, who believe that AI art lacks the qualities of and subverts the artistic legacy produced by the aryan racial spirit. Your argument is the same as theirs. You just sub in a vague term to replace the original overt racism.

I mean, last time I checked, it's a technology that humans made, right? Not space aliens. When you're asked to dehumanize AI art, you're being asked to dehumanize all the people involved in making it.

When you criticize AI art on the basis of its failure to reproduce reality as-is, on the basis of its production of malformed or disabled bodies, you are again echoing the eugenicists. The race scientists and nazis who believed that impressionism, cubism, and surrealism were forms that reflected the degenerate and innately criminal bodies and minds that were alleged to have produced such art. To say now, that AI artists are stealing something from "true" "real" artists who have cultivated some sacred skill and exist as exemplars of human expression and culture, is to align yourself with the rhetoric of fascists.

In truth, there is no theft. If AI image generators were plainly "collage machines" we'd be able to then confirm that collage-making is a recognized art form that doesn't qualify as theft. But they're not "cutting up and mashing" art together. That's a lie. Invented by the people who fed you all those other garbage, fascist arguments. I wonder why they would lie to you like that? 🤔

When you fall back on the most tired, most self-damning argument of all- it takes no effort, they're being lazy, just pushing a button!! Just learn how to paint!!!

It all kind of falls apart, doesn't it? Even if AI had magically appeared from space and had required no programmers to design, and had not required countless people to label images, build datasets, or train the AIs, required no artistic process of investigation, iteration, refinement, or labor hours from the most dedicated AI artists, what would be wrong with wanting to see novel art at a low effort? What exactly would be wrong with that?

Please, try to find an answer that doesn't make you sound like the most conservative boomer stereotype ever.

Please, try to find an answer that doesn't appeal to some of the most draconian, anti-art and anti-artist strictures to ever exist, Intellectual Property laws.

~~~

After all, how do you feel about cameras? How do you feel about other machines that produce art? That are, on the face of it, "only pushing a button"?

How do you feel about readymades, about Fountain by Duchamp?

How do you feel about fascism? About reactionary fears and anxieties about losing your precarious place in the economic hierarchy? About banding together as a community to push these invaders and thieves out? About not being able to provide for yourself in this tide of oncoming degeneracy?

Are you scared? Are you afraid they'll take our jobs? Are you afraid they'll corrupt our children?

Aren't you angry about the injustice of it?

Don't you just want the people in charge to be willing to make laws to protect you? To protect you from this sick, vile, not-art? These gutter paintings?

Don't these criminals just deserve the worst?

Well?

#fuck ai voice acting #fuck ai music #fuck ai writing #fuck ai art #anti ai