#I love numbers and graphs and shit

[shamebats]

My smart watch might actually be giving me some genuinely fascinating insights into my migraines

My stress levels today. I marked with green when I took my medication (eletriptan) and started using the TENS device.

According to my watch's measurements (based on heart rate variability), my body has been in rest mode for most of the evening after taking the medication. Something that's very rarely the case for me. I've always wondered about it because I don't feel that stressed but if it's because I'm more or less always actively having a headache, that would explain some things.

(My partner also joked that my stress levels dropped after he came home at 4pm lol)

For comparison, here's the data for yesterday when I didn't take any medication:

And this is a day that I'd marked as a low pain day on my headache calendar

It has a significantly more restful moments.

I'm not fully convinced it's that accurate yet, but I'll definitely keep paying attention to it. I'm not always that good at telling when I'm in pain so if this could help me with that, it could be a game changer.

My watch is a Garmin vivoactive 5.

[natgoodmans]

“In light of everything that’s happened in the past three months alone, here’s some incredibly valid reasons to be pissed off at Taylor Swift, or simply not like her — as someone who loved her, and loved her music. First and foremost, Taylor Swift is personally burning a hole through the ozone with the amount of CO2 she uses. That’s not even the main point of this video; but this is a graph from 2022 of how much CO2 she produced of her 170 private jet flights, versus the average person. She has spent 70 grand on jet fuel alone. Taylor Swift, alone has used 170 tons of CO2 in the past 3 months. The average person only burns like, 16 tons. That’s not even the main part of this video. The main point of the video is the fact that she has not spoken up about Palestine. And the reason that is so fundamentally frustrating is that Taylor Swift has influence. Quote Brittany Broski, when she also didn’t speak up about Palestine — “if you have a platform, and you have people listening, you have to use it.” It’s criminal to not use it, and Taylor Swift uses it. This is from September 2023. Record-breaking registration numbers from one Instagram post. Literally stating, saying “I’ve been so lucky to see so many of you guys at my US shows recently. I’ve heard you raise your voices, and I know how powerful they are. Make sure you’re ready to use them in our elections this year!” They had a 72(%) increase in 18-year-old registrations. When it comes to Palestine, she’s completely silent. And now that it’s somewhat more socially acceptable to attend Pro-Palestine events, she’s been quietly going with Selena Gomez, but I for one, think that your Instagram is perhaps the best asset you have. If not, money. And I’m sure in a couple months, we’ll learn about how Taylor Swift was quietly setting up foundations for pro-Palestine, and that she was always for the cause and she’s always supported them, but all it takes is one fucking Instagram post. Especially when Israel Palestine is fundamentally a war of narratives. It’s whose story do you believe, despite the mounting evidence that proves that Israel has continuously been doing ethnic cleansing and genocide. They are still maintaining this narrative that they are not doing that. And all Taylor Swift has to do is say “hey, 22 thousand deaths in 3 months? The most in any modern war? This doesn’t seem right.” I don’t even want her to be that leftist or radical, but literally just to ask the question to her largely American audience, when US has bypassed Congress twice to sell millions in arms aid to Israel.  Just for her to be like “Should that many kids be dying, perhaps?” The bar is on the floor, but she still refuses to do it. And the reason why Taylor Swift in particular, not because of the influence that she has and not because of the platform that she has, but why her in particular, is because the IDF continues to use her songs. I know it was a public trend, but the fact that so many occupation forces felt comfortable and confident  to make like, dance edits to Taylor Swift’s music. I think it’s so important how an artist’s music is used because when the republicans wanted to use Eminem’s 8 mile track, he was like “absolutely fucking not, I do not give you consent to do that, and I do not associate with your politics. Don’t do that.” I feel like she should know that her music is being used as the anthem of the occupation forces as they go and bomb civilians. Her, and other artists like her, like Beyonce, who showed her film in Israel, and they’re all like dancing and singing, and saying “you’re not going to break my soul”, whilst they continue to bomb the shit out of civilians have said nothing. And I hope, as I’ve demonstrated in the video, for the people who are going to be like “What’s Taylor swift going to do? She’s not a politician.” Be serious. Be serious. She has a fucking chokehold on at least a billion people. She could’ve said and done way more than what she’s done, and also the CO2 levels." (from: this tiktok*)

* i tried to transcribe the tiktok since tiktok wasn't showing the captions for me but if i misheard anything please let me know!

[roanofarcc]

A TRIP TO THE MIDWEST

pairing: kate carter x platonic reader ( requested)

summary: you take a trip to visit your best friend Kate. 

warnings: written to be platonic but could also be romatic if you squit. tornados & shit! 

word count. 1.1k | masterlist

The Midwest was much different than New York, but you took those differences in stride. A breath of fresh air was exactly what you needed. Kate had been hounding you to come visit her during tornado season and meet her group of storm chasers she had told you endlessly about over the phone. Your schedules had never aligned until now. 

Kate’s team was friendly and a little rowdy, but you saw how fond Kate was of them; it made you fond of them too. 

It seemed a little crazy, picking up to chase tornadoes instead of doing normal weekend getaway activities, but you were excited. You had met Kate at work and shared a similar love for the weather. But you hadn’t grown up or lived around tornadoes, only studied them. They weren’t your area of expertise. You were excited to see one up close, though a bit nervous too. 

“Don’t worry,” Kate said, tossing you a look from the passenger seat. “I made Tyler promise no funny business.” 

Tyler Owens grinned in the rear-view mirror. “Just your average chase today, ladies and gentlemen. Buckle up now.” 

You obliged, your heart drumming with anticipation. Down the lone roads, you observed the plains, growing crops, and darkening clouds. Tyler drove you and his team right into the bruised sky, heavy with eerie cloud cover. Through the rolled down windows, you could smell the oncoming rain. 

Kate checked on you every so often, her own excitement glowing on her face. “You know, there’s an open spot on the team if you ever feel like leaving New York,” she said. 

You bit your lip, eyes set on the changing color of the sky from a dark gray/blue to a slight green tint. “Let me actually see a tornado with my own eyes first.” 

In the backseat next to you sat Boone, who was fiddling with his camera until you spoke. “Wait, you’ve never seen one of these bad boys before?” You shook your head, and he let out a low whistle. “You’re in for a treat, city girl.” 

And that you were. You had studied nearly every weather phenomenon. But there was a difference in living it. Radars, computer models, and even textbooks only showed you so much. 

As the tornado touched down across the expanse of a field, you were awe-struck. There was something deeply beautiful about such destructive forces of nature. No numbers or graphs could properly showcase a feat of Mother Nature.

The tornado was a skinny one, kicking up dust as it plowed through the field. Tyler parked the car on the side of the road, and everyone clamored out with cameras in hand to capture it. You simply stared in awe as it swept across the road a good distance away before it fizzled out, retracting back into the sky. 

It was a quick one, not causing too much damage in its wake, but it was enough to show you just why Kate had left New York. 

Later that night, the Wranglers sat in the parking lot of a motel. Tyler and Kate were fixing up the truck for more intense storms that were set to roll in the following day, while you chatted with the other team members, listening to them recall storms of past and how they all found their passion for storm chasing. You talked until yawns started to spread through the group, and you all decided to turn in for the night. 

Kate tiredly flopped onto her bed in your shared motel room, a soft smile on her face. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?” 

You laughed at her dreamy tone, getting comfy in your bed. “I can see why you like it so much.” 

Rolling onto her side, Kate faced you. “It’s not always easy, but I couldn’t imagine doing anything else now.” 

You were happy for your friend; you had never seen her so at peace and in her element. When you met Kate, she was closed off and kept to herself. She was a head-down, work-focused kind of woman, which wasn’t unusual in New York City, but you had lived in the city long enough to know when someone was running from something. As you worked your way into a workplace friendship with Kate, you noticed it more and more, a heaviness she tried to carry. You eventually wore her down with water cooler conversations that turned into weekend coffee dates. Coffee dates became shopping and deeper conversations shared over takeout in one of your apartments. You two had gradually become friends, shoulders for the other to lean on. 

Kate eventually opened up to you about what she was running from, a tragic accident in college resulting in the loss of three friends and her boyfriend. She fell out with another friend, who had survived and ran away from tornado chasing, abandoning what she had once dreamed about. 

You encouraged her to follow that friend back home, just to see if that dream was still there under the rubble of loss of grief, and it was. Of course, you were bummed your best friend no longer lived just blocks away from you in the city, but you were happy to see her so happy. Storm chasing was in her blood. 

“It probably helps that your teammate is totally smitten with you, huh?” you teased. Kate rolled her eyes, but there was an undeniable blush that spread across her cheeks, which caused you to laugh. 

“Shut up,” she muttered before her gaze turned more sincere. “I wasn’t kidding about you joining us. We could use another brain on the operation.” 

“I don’t know, Kate,” you said. It would be a new adventure, that was for sure, but you weren’t sure if you fit in with the Wranglers. You didn’t want to shake up their group too much, and you weren’t sure if you were cut out for that kind of work. You were the kind of person who worked in the office, watching the weather from behind a screen, not witnessing it firsthand. 

She sighed. “It’s a lot, I know that. It’s not exactly fair of me to ask you to uproot your whole life. I just miss havin’ you around. I love my team. I love that I’ve reconnected with Javi. But you made me believe in myself again and I feel like I owe you something for that.” 

You frowned. “You don’t owe me anything. That’s what friends are for.” 

“Just…think about, okay? Because I know you’d be great here. You’re great in New York too. I just don’t want us to stop being close, even if we’re halfway across the country from each other.” 

You reached out across the space between the two motel beds and held out your pinky finger. “I promise, you’re stuck with me no matter what.” Kate hooked her pinky with yours, promising that too, before turning out the lights for the night. You fell asleep to the sound of distant thunder, trying to imagine yourself taking that leap, embarking on a new adventure.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: The reblogs and my comments await your wrath.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your turn to present comes and you stand up at the board, your budget projected as the bulb nearly blinds you. You point to the numbers and the accompanying graphs, going over each as best as you can. Your life might be an utter and complete mess but you know numbers. Your job is simple as simple gets and you can go over this ad nauseam.

Still, your focus is splintered as you find yourself stalling here and there. Each time you meet Mr Hansen's sparkling blue eyes, you nearly swallow your own tongue. You can't help but think of what you did in his office. Of what Pete would say when found out. And he will because you've never been a good liar and this isn't a secret you can keep. You just don't know how to say it.

He won't care that you were in a bind, that you were disgusted by yourself, that you didn't want to do it. You still did it. You betrayed your marriage. Even if it is a bit rocky, you made a vow. Despite the friction, you love Pete. You wouldn't have stuck around this long otherwise. It's just a rocky patch. Or it was, until this.

Your eyes linger on Hansen as he leans back in his chair and lets his gaze drift towards his lap. You gulp and look to the board, pointing out the projection as you finish up. You wallow in a momentary silence before you retreat and reclaim your seat at the conference table. You were absolutely certain to be as far from him as possible, though that was easy as all the executives cluster together.

You keep your attention at the front of the room. These things are always dull. You're not high up enough to care about more than your own piece in the puzzle. You don't make the big decisions, you just show what's there. 

You sip from your cold coffee. You feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket. Not now. You ignore it and tap your fingers on the table.

You glance around and once more find Hansen’s attention on you. He should be more concerned with the marketing presentation going on. You hide any tinge of emotion; irritation, confusion, humiliation, a peer up at the front.

The meeting ends just as you catch yourself nodding off. You shuffle out with the rest of the bodies and find your desk, nearly keeling over as you sit. You got what, an hour's sleep. You don't know if you can make it through.

Your phone goes off again. Great, what is it now? You really can't handle anything else today. Your morning has already drained you of everything you have left.

Shit, it's the school. You get up and answer your phone, marching between desks to find a quiet place. You dip down towards an empty meeting room and shut yourself in. The secretary tells you Malik got sick in gym class. Today? You sigh and promise you'll be there as soon as you can.

You put your hand to your forehead and yawn as you hang up. If you have any more caffeine, you're going to explode. You just need to get through it. You always do. Not for you, for the kids. That's what it's about.

You turn and find the door open, a figure against the frame. You could like and say you're surprised but you know Mr. Hansen isn't the type to let you sink in shame. He wants to rub it in.

"You know, I didn't think witches were real but you got magic hands, toots--"

"Sir," you fight to keep your voice even, "I just got a call from my kids' school--"

"Ew, let's not with the kids," he flicks his fingers dismissively, "I'm talking about us."

"Us?" You frown, "sir, please, I have to--"

"That husband of yours, he's lucky. Is that from practice or are you just that desperate to get your hands on some prime meat?"

You give him a look, the kind you give when you're trying not to yell. As a point, you don't raise your voice. He gives a shiver as if shaking off a chill.

"I'm teasing. I'm just... let's turn this thing around, honey. You got your budget, I got... off. And now we can get along. So, let me be a nice guy and say, go, get your kid, be a good mommy, and be back bright and early tomorrow."

You stutter. You don't quite believe him. It feels like a test. A trap. He smirks and lets his hand wander down his stomach. He grips himself through his pants.

"Unless, you want more--"

"I really have to go," you squeeze your phone, "my son--"

"Alright, alright, ugh, boring," he sneers, "I don't wanna hear about the kids."

"Um, okay," you near him, "thank you, Mr. Hansen."

"Yeah yeah," he backs out of the doorway, "don't stress it." He steps aside as you go into the hallway, "unclench a little."

As you turn, you stumble, a sudden clap against your ass throwing you off balance. You steady yourself but don't look back as he retracts his hand. Your eyes are wide, your steps stiff and stunted as you tell yourself to just keep going.

Shit, this is a problem.

Your job is stressful enough. The last thing you ever wanted was to be Hansen’s next target. It’s not something you ever worried about. You’re too old, too flabby, and too worn out. When he realises that, he’ll be back to the likes of Kendra. You don’t know who you should pity more; yourself or her.

You don't have capacity right now. One thing at a time. Get Malik home, then you can figure out how exactly your life is going to implode.

🗄️

You get Malik on the couch, bundled up watching his favourite cartoons, as you sit and stare at your phone. You know that even if you called, Pete wouldn't pick up. He's too busy for you. Still, your anxiety eats away at you and makes you impatient. You can't even enjoy the time away from the office.

You make some soup once your son's stomach settles but yours is in worse shape. You don't have an appetite, you're restless and exhausted. You're in pieces.

You know you can't go back and change things. Hell, you couldn't have done anything different. You have a mortgage, insurance, and children to look after. You can't throw it all away on one man's ego.

Still, you did something wrong. Something unforgivable. If you think Pete hates you now, he's going to despise you. And you might just lose everything anyway.

You sit and bend over, holding your head. God, you're stupid and weak and awful. You chose this, a family, a man who doesn't care, and a job that gives you nothing but stress. You could've had a better life and never inflicted your mistake on anyone else.

"Mommy," Malik taps your shoulder, startling so you sit up too fast, nearly falling out of the chair, "mommy, the stove."

You look over at the pot boils over, hissing and bubbling. Great, now you've burnt the chicken noodle. You get up and quickly flip off the burner and move the pot to the next one.

"How about some vegetable soup, huh?" You offer, "sorry, Mal."

"Are you okay, mommy?" He pouts as he stands in his dinosaur pajamas.

"Yeah, yeah, mom's just tired," you answer, "go sit down. I'll clean this up. Then it should be time to go pick up Simone."

He mumbles and leaves you. You look at the burnt soup, curdled and filmy and black around the edges. Usually, you just want Pete home but tonight, you don't know what you're going to do when he gets in. You can be sure it'll be a sleepless night.

🗄️

You spend the evening avoiding your phone. It's easy. You sit and help Simone with her homework as Malik colours at the other side of the table. After dinner you get them washed up and in their pajamas in time for bed.

You can’t help but try to suck up every second. You don’t want to lose this. It can be hard, Pete’s long hours, your sore hips, the children’s antics. It can be utterly defeating but you don’t want to lose it all. Maybe you should’ve tried sooner to fix things, maybe if you did, Pete might believe you didn’t want to do what you did.

Once the kids are asleep, you're left to yourself but not really. You clean the kitchen and get lunches packed for the next day. You switch the laundry before you head up to bed but leave the light on as you lay down. 

It’s a mirror of the night before, except you’re not the one with your tail between your legs. Pete gets home as late as ever. You want to be mad that he's only there on weekends to see the kids. Yet, you don't see much of him then either.

He comes upstairs, pushing back his hair as he enters, blanching as he sees you awake. His face falls and he runs his fingers around his stubbly lips. You don't say anything as he loosens his tie and sighs.

"Please, I don't wanna argue tonight," he says as he sheds his blazer, "it's been a long day."

"Alright," you agree, fighting not to squirm as your stomach flips. "But… I wanna talk about something."

"Look, we're almost there. The hard part's almost over," he explains as he unbuttons his shirt, "we're about to hit oil with this thing."

"I know, but… there's something we need to talk about–"

He closes his eyes and hangs his head back as he peels off his shirt. He's in good shape still. You suppose making your own hours gives you a lot of time for the gym.

"Can I take a shower first?" He huffs.

"Sure," you murmur. He's trying to wait you out, hoping you fall asleep before he's done. "Take a shower."

His brows rise and fall and he turns away as he digs in his pocket. He pulls out his phone and plugs it in, leaving it face down on the dresser. He unclasps the gold chain around his wrist and puts it in the jewelry tray with his watch. You watch his hands.

"Where's your ring?" You ask as you focus on his fingers.

"Oh, uh, fuck," he sniffs, "must've left it in my gym bag again."

"Mmm," you him and don't comment further. 

You look down at your own band, twisting it on your finger as your inside rot with guilt. You have to face this. You have to be honest. As much as it hurts you. As much as it'll hurt you.

He moves around the room. He misses the hamper again, this time his underwear fall on the floor. You want to cry as more than just the weight of your confession crushes you. It’s all of it. The years of distance between you, the memory of good days far behind, what you’ll never have again.

The bathroom door shuts and you look up again. You get up, needing to walk off the excess energy. You pace in circles and wring your hands. You want to rehearse what you should say but you got nothing. 

You hear the subtle buzz and pause. You go back to the bed and take your phone off the night table. Nothing. Not even a notification for that dumb matching game you played once while waiting at the doctor's office.

You set it back down and go back to your aimless circling. You hear it again and again. It's annoying. Tweaking your already addled nerves. 

You look around and see Pete's phone, the edges limned in the glow of the overturned screen. You cross the room and flip it over to turn the volume down. You stop as the newest message pops across the top.

'Hey babe, can't wait for Saturday. Bikini or no suit at all?' 

You read it once, twice, several times before your shock fully sets in. What? Your heart drops as you put his phone back as you found it and back away. 

You sit on the bed and stare at the bathroom door. Things can always get worse, that's your bitter mantra. You swallow as your eyes brim with tears and your throat locks up. You listen to the showerhead buzz.

You were prepared to be the bad guy. To lay yourself bare and plead mercy. You psyched yourself up to face the music but you're unprepared for this. 

You get up and turn off the lamp. You get into bed and face away from the bathroom, just like most nights. You pull the blanket to your shoulders and close your eyes. You measure your breaths to keep from crying. Once you start, you won't be able to stop.

When Pete finishes, you're still awake. Sleep? That's a joke. You just lay there and listen to him move around. When he comes to bed, he doesn't try to talk to you or wake you up.

You open your eyes and see the glow of his phone outlining your silhouette against the wall. You gulp, careful not to give yourself away. He groans and he types away on his phone. Right beside you… like you don't exist. You're just an afterthought for him. Just like your vows. Just like the kids.

As low as you thought you were that morning, you’ve sunk even further. Would he even care if he knew? You’re so unlovable, he probably wouldn’t even believe another man would let you touch them.

[zmediaoutlet]

Survey results time.

At time of downloading the data we got just over 300 responses, which is not bad for a survey that was long and complicated to take! I'm sure my shamelessness helped. Being a survey for a specific crowd, we also didn't get anyone (as far as I could tell) taking the survey in bad faith, which is a legit surprise. Special shout-out to the several people who, when asked to write literally anything to say they understood what was going on, wrote "literally anything"; additional shout-out to the person who wrote "penus and hole" (sic). You get it, anonymous person.

I'm going to share the top results for the questions here, but I'll also include the raw data as a sheet at the end in case anyone wants to actually go through it with a fine-tooth comb. This is not a survey where cute pie charts or graphs would be useful or readable, so get ready for some sweet-ass numbers:

Story Genre

Unsurprisingly, our leaderboard for most favorite story genre in the 'Anytime!' category is as follows:

Hurt/comfort (153 votes)

Angst (142 votes)

PWP (139 votes)

We just like the guys to get the shit beaten out of them, angstily, and then they can feel better by jerking off about it. The ideal evening.

The big loser in genre, with 34 buds flat out saying "not for me", was Dark!fic. That said, Dark!fic also got 112 votes (third highest) for "has to be JUST right," so we can probably take from there that while as a group we don't hate dark content, we have pretty strict definitions for a) what counts as dark, and b) what kind of dark we're willing to take.

Gencest/gen was arguably the most 'eh, idk?' of the genres, with respectable showings in every category from Anytime to No; most people don't hate it, but people aren't really seeking it out either. It's definitely There.

Story Setting

The winner of most 'Anytime!' votes for story setting is close to my heart; the podium is:

Bunker era (142 votes)

Canon-close, codas, etc (129 votes)

Pre-series/weechesters (126 votes)

It feels good to know that canon is on our side. This may help explain why various alternate universe settings didn't do so hot with the respondents -- the least fave according to this survey is an age!swap AU, followed by a raised apart!AU. Writers who are making Sam the big brother who lives in Cleveland while baby Dean lives in Seattle, you keep living your truth, but readers are rearing back.

That being said, while Canon Divergence isn't an overall winner, it has a full 149 votes in the 'Dig it' category; so, while we may generally prefer canon, we're willing to be led on a garden path away from it. We just want canon to be within shouting distance, at least.

Canonical Character Variants

Here's where the survey gets more complex. I've always been interested in how and why people are fandoming about things, and simple 'yes/no' surveys rarely dig into that meat. The point of the superego/ego/id separation is to really interrogate -- hey, do you like to read about (for example) soulless!Sam because you find it interesting on a high-minded level, or because your heart-strings are getting tugged even if you think it's kinda dumb, or just because it makes you so hornt-up you can't think straight? All are valid, and all are possible simultaneously, but it's interesting to prod at to see how the interest is working. You might also just be like, eh, it's fine, or GOD, STOP, and that's fine too. So, with all that said:

Superego winners:

demon powers!Sam (202 votes)

soulless!Sam (177 votes)

blood addict!Sam (160 votes)

Y'all like to really brain about how Sam is fucked up. I get it.

Ego winners:

Trials of Hell!Sam (186 votes)

blood addict!Sam (180 votes)

demon powers!Sam (161 votes)

Still all Sam, and no surprise that his saintly pale sleeplessness is winning the heartstrings battle.

Id winners:

demon!Dean (205 votes)

demon powers!Sam (175 votes)

blood addict!Sam (165 votes)

Again, no surprise: fandom girlies (gn) love their bad boys, lol. Soulless snuck in at #4 here with 163, presumably because working out still wearing a belt was juuuust dorky enough to kick him off the podium; #5 was Smith & Wesson at 162, probably because if they'd been left in that AU for ten more minutes they would have been fucking over the top of Dean Smith's desk. Glad we're all on the same page, there.

The nopes here were an interesting mix. In the full-on No Thank You category we had Michael!Dean and Gadreel!Sam (with 52 and 53 votes respectively) -- it would be interesting to know if that was due to dread of the storyline specifically, or just how No Bad Wrong it felt to have it happening. These two also led the 'meh' category, although they were joined on the podium of bad by Endverse!Dean (128 Meh votes), which frankly shocked me. Y'all aren't into his thigh holster? C'mon now. Sure, he murders his friends without compunction, but -- thigh holster!

Story Tropes

These ones were fascinatingly all over the place, which is exactly why I wanted to do this. Going to just run down the S/E/I podiums real quick, then 'Hard sell', then No --

Superego winners:

Outsider!POV (211)

Someone Finds Out (191)

Mental health issues (190)

Ego winners:

Mutual pining (252)

First time (242) AND Sick/injured (242)

First time in a long time (235)

Id winners:

Jealousy/possessiveness (224)

First time (218)

First time in a long time (180)

Now, part of what's interesting about these is how they fall off in other categories. Outsider POV wins handily at Superego with 211, but then drops all the way down to 92 votes at Id -- which isn't nothing, but clearly it's preferred to have a heckin' think about how other people view the incest relationship, rather than thinking it's just So Hot that people might. Similarly, while people do think it's so so hot for one brother or the other (or both!) to be possessive at 224 votes, when it comes to the superego that drops right down to 134 votes, presumably as the brain wakes up and goes RED FLAG!

Entering the land of no thank you, we shall have two anti-podiums:

Real hard sell:

Infidelity (127)

magic/powers!Dean (125)

Unrequited/no relationship upgrade (110) AND "Carver Edlund" fandom

This is a much more mixed bag. Infidelity and Unrequited are no surprise here, because it Feels Bad, Man; magic!Dean also not really a surprise, given that most of our respondents prefer being closer to canon, and Dean is very much our mundane buddy in the show as presented. (A delightful buddy, but a distinctly nonmagical one.) Carver Edlund fandom makes me laugh mostly because it's such a bananas thing to exist in the show. Sam and Dean reading big bang fics about each other? Collectively we just... don't know what to do with that. Weird.

Squick/No/Maybe one exception:

Permanent character death (140)

Infidelity (108)

Eating disorders (102)

Again, no surprise in the anti-winners of 1 or 2 here, but number 3 surprised me, personally. ED fic used to be a pretty big wedge of common tropes that people would seek out. Perhaps it's gotten less popular over the years? Or perhaps just that the people who like it REALLY like it and so chat about it out loud, while those who don't quietly bury it in sand, lo as a cat does with their leavings.

Most extreme delta in 'general interest' (whether that be S,E, or I) to 'ehh' (whether that be Hard Sell or Squick) is first time. Y'all loooove your first time.

Sexy Tropes, Vol. 1

This is where I really wanted to know if people could pull apart their interests between brain and heart and guts. Hopefully people were honest, as requested. Some of them we know are slight liar answers, because the hits on AO3 tell a story that can't be refuted -- nevertheless, here's what people were willing to admit to.

Bulletproof kink/will read any version:

Bedsharing (158)

Incest kink (139)

Size kink (133)

your friendly neighborhood survey creator is jumping up and down going 'wooo' that size kink made the podium. also I hope everyone understood that incest kink meant, like, indulging in the incest of it all via 'oh you're so totes my brother and i want to suck your dingle for that reason specifically', but I realize that could've been clearer.

Easy sell/you don't have to work hard for me to enjoy:

shameless bottom!Dean stuff (151)

switching (147)

voyeurism (138)

the first one here genuinely surprises me considering what I see getting written most often; is this a case of just not being in the right venn diagrams, or the 'easy sell' just not matching up with what people are being sold? Curiouser and curiouser.

Medium sell/not my fave, but I can see how it appeals:

bad/awkward sex (120)

phone sex (114)

in [drug/alcohol] veritas (110)

edging into awkward town in a few ways here: we don't love these, but we can see how it'd be fun. or not fun, in the case of bad sex.

Hard sell/this is unbelievable or uninteresting so you have to work hard to get me to enjoy it:

always-another-gender!AU (84)

multiple Sams or Deans (73)

genderswap (magic) (72)

so, in general, we prefer to keep the penises around and intact, but just one Sam penis and one Dean penis, please. Here, I'm interested that the volume is much lower than in the top category: maxing out at 84 hard sells compared to 158 bulletproof options means that we're willing to give more of these tropes a chance, even if they're not our faves. How accepting we are!

Squick/no/maybe one exception:

always-another-gender!AU (83)

A/B/O elements (65)

multiple Sams or Deans (51)

strong overlap with the hard sell; and, keeping in mind that people were able to choose multiple options, it's possible that some of those were identical votes. Again, please keep the penises straightforward and only two at a time. A/B/O is interesting here, especially given what we know of how well it does on AO3; while it's a big squick for a lot of people, it also has decently high votes in bulletproof/easy, averaging 82 votes. Mixed bag!

Sexy Tropes Vol. 2, Electric Boogaloo

Bulletproof kink/will read any version:

Possessive/claiming sex (129)

Marking (hickeys/bruising) (116)

Hair pulling (103)

Let's glance back up at the Id winners in the story tropes above, hmm quietly to ourselves, and move on.

Easy sell/you don't have to work hard for me to enjoy:

Marking (hickeys/bruising) (135)

Hair pulling (130)

Possessive/claiming sex (121)

Well, that's boring. So let's expand so as not to be repetitive:

4. Dub-con (116) 5. Dom/sub (113) AND Underage (113) 6. Knifeplay (107)

There we go. Pretty easy to put all of those into one fic, too.

Medium sell/not my fave, but I can see how it appeals:

Blindfolds (128)

Painplay (116)

Shibari/rope play (112)

We're starting to lose interest as accessories come into play. Interesting to compare D/s and its relative success against painplay -- so, tell him what to do, but don't hit him while you're doing it. Fair enough.

Hard sell/this is unbelievable or uninteresting so you have to work hard to get me to enjoy it:

Fucking machines (94)

Vore (80)

Mommy!kink (77)

Entertaining mix here, haha. General feasibility may be rearing its head here. (Also, for my own entertainment: daddy!kink got 67 Hard Sell votes. People generally prefer to keep it as horizontal incest, not vertical incest.)

Squick/no/maybe one exception:

Feederism (164)

Vore (161)

Extreme underage (157)

No surprises here, although some fans of the nibbly variety of wincest may be disappointed by vore's poor placement. Note also that 'extreme' is in the eye of the beholder; we'll leave aside value judgments, as we have for the whole survey, and note that people are not indulging in a version of underage they find to be personally past the line, or at least are not admitting to that.

At a glance, the closest matchup between bulletproof for some and a squick to others is bloodplay, with just 1 vote separating the two categories: 44 bulletproof, 43 squick. Next time someone tries to tell you that 'everyone' likes or doesn't like something, please take it with an entire shaker full of salt.

Dynamic & Position Preferences

I tried to encourage people not to think too hard about this one and just answer on instinct. Who knows if that worked. But here are some overview takes:

Toppy/dominant: Sam takes the lead here, with 69% of respondents being in the 'Love it!' category. Nice. (217 votes)

Dom Dean earned a respectable 52% of 'Love it!' votes (163).

However, I was also interested to check out the inverse --

subby!Sam: 44 'Very no thank' votes (13%) subby!Dean: 27 'Very no thank' votes (8%)

It's interesting to leap way back up and compare that against 'shameless bottom!Dean stuff' doing so well in the rated E categories. Makes you ponder.

Actual sex position: Frequently switching takes the win here, with 61% of the vote (194 votes). Sam always topping edges out if people must choose, with 144 votes; Dean always topping is our lowest choice, with 112.

Service!topping: this is a fairly niche fic type, but it does still exist -- I guess in a world of bottoms someone's got to actually get up and do something, and it is hilariously an almost perfectly even split:

service!top Sam: 50.17% (151 votes) service!top Dean: 51.50% (155 votes)

A healthy percentage of people said they didn't care about these questions either way, and more power to them. However, they were wildly outvoted by those who did.

Multishipping Time

Our final categories are when other people get their grubby hands on Sam or Dean, either canonically(ish) or in our fandom activities.

Canonical relationships for Sam

Jess wins, quelle surprise. :) 161 people Dug It and who can blame them.

Amelia LOSES, shocking no one: 112 people said Fuck That.

Eileen was definitely a mixed bag; her results, in order, were: Meh: 92; Fuck that: 76; Worse than meh: 66; Dug it: 44.

Canonical(ish) relationships for Dean

Note here: it was too unbalanced if we only went with people Dean officially dated. However, the show leaned hard into a few unrequited male relationships for him, which we included here, and no one sent me hate about it so I guess that was fine.

Benny wins the Love It! category with 129 votes, barely edging out Cassie at 122. Benny is best boy, so that fits.

Cas loses with a full 99 Fuck That votes, which is probably what we'd expect from a wincest survey. That said, he also got 93 Dug It votes, so it's a pretty balanced showing.

Poor Lisa sits firmly at Meh with 148 votes. It's not that we hate you, Lisa; we just don't really know what to do with you. Which is pretty much how the relationship went in the show.

Shipping Sam like FedEx

We returned to the S/E/I model for shipping as we did for tropes, because it means something very different to go 'oh sure, I can see how that would be interesting' vs saying 'I want them to fuck rawnasty and I don't care why they're doing it.' Apologies if I left out your favorite side-ship but, shit, there's only so much time in the day.

So, we return to the podiums:

Superego:

Ruby (132)

Rowena (121)

Cas (102)

Ego:

Rowena (121)

Cas (106)

Ruby (90)

Id:

Ruby (125)

John (121)

Rowena (118)

So that was going on sedately until Dad came in like a hammer. Fascinating. On the other hand:

No:

Lisa (234)

Donna (222)

Claire (219)

Interesting to me that these three are ladies that Sam theoretically could have got up in but people are not into it, regardless. This is slightly different to Dean's 'no' category -- spoilers for three inches of screen space!

Dean, Shipped by UPS

Superego:

John (129)

Benny (115)

Lisa (99)

Ego:

Benny (134)

John (116)

Lisa (102)

Id:

John (147)

Benny (128)

Crowley (114)

Well. That tells a slightly different story, ahem. Enjoy the various tropes that will be applied, Dean! And then we get:

No:

Amelia (245)

Kevin (223)

Gabriel (217)

Comparing to the Sam 'no' above -- these three are slightly more 'traditional' Sam ships, though the wincest shippers are nevertheless not into them for Sam, either. Dean literally never spoke to or saw Amelia on screen, so it'd be a determined shipper who'd make that happen. Not undoable, though!

Conclusion

Syke: there isn't one to be made. This really shows how diverse the taste is in the wincest community, or at least in the wincest community that a) happened to see this survey over the last five days and b) bothered to take it. This particular group leans slightly toward e.g. toppy Sam, or slightly toward switching, but when you look at raw numbers what you see is that at least one person LOVES every single one of these things, and at least one person fucking HATES every single one of these things, and so -- so what? Write what you want. If you see a niche of something that you love where you feel like not enough people are writing or reading, try to fill it. If you're worried "no one" will like it, well -- you're wrong. Someone will. It just needs to get seen by the right people.

That's where fandom comes in, to spread the love even if something isn't bulletproof for us -- reblogging a post to say, 'hey, my mutual made this thing, look at it!' What a joy it'd be if someone saw it and loved it to absolute shattering bits, and then found their little bulletproof community, and happiness was made. What's the point, if we're not making each other happy.

Thanks for participating if you did, and reading all this if you did. Here's a link to a google sheet (read only) with all the tables of raw data if you're interested. I'll post some of the more entertaining fill-in answers later.

s&d shipping survey results: November 1, 2023 - Google Sheets

[bowtiepastabitch]

Good Omens Fandom Data 2024

Raw data, calculations, and graphs. Fancy graphics Here!

This post is less organized than usual because I just spent two hours turning it into fancy infographics, but here's the raw data for those who are interested:)

All data was pulled December 17th between 10pm and 3am while logged into ao3. Due to the archival function of ao3, it is not uncommon for numbers to fluctuate as readers can choose to remove their works (or parts of them) as they please, which can affect total numbers as well as date categories and tag organization.

The dates pulled are for 2024-01-01 to 2024-12-16 for the year total and 2024-x-01 to 2024-x-30/31 for monthly pulls. Fics are filed by their most recent update, rather than date of first publishing, on ao3 meaning any fic updated this year will be included in the data even if it has been a running WIP for multiple years.

Word and comment counts were calculated using the natural "pages" layout of 20 works per page to assemble a calculation of the average or total when sorted numerically in the archive. The top 20 entries are entered independently, and from there intervals are used to get an estimate of the larger body of work. For example:

(SUM of top 20 wordcounts) + (wordcount of item 21 + WC41 + WC61 + WC81 + WC101)(20) = total wordcount items 1-121

As the tail end of the data creates larger swaths of entries with essentially the same average accross smaller intervals, the intervals used become longer as seen here:

From this estimated total wordcount, I'm able to get an estimated total for the set. For wordcount specifically, I excluded the wordcounts of two large H*rry P*tt*r fics with crossover elements in the top 20 out of both spite and a desire to maintain some level of numerical purity. This more than balances out the effect of pulling representative samples on the high end of each interval.

All content data is dependent on tagging, which is not standardized. Thus, the numbers represented are only as accurate as the authors' tagging abilities. For example, while you'll see genitalia identifiers as a common tag for smut fics, they're still only present on the fraction of fics that choose to list them. The lack of a tag does not automatically imply the opposite. Likewise, some fics containing some explicit content that are not pornographic in nature/focus will choose to list as Mature instead of Explicit. The two categories are both "adult" content, so it's an author's choice which rating best suits the material.

My ask box is always open if you have questions!! I love talking about this shit it's one of my favorite little hyperfixations. :)

Tagging @queer-reader-07 because xe consistently enjoys these types of posts:)

[olderthannetfic]

I don't know if you're aware of this but the end of year AO3 stats posts are going around and one of the largest and longest running studies is extremely flawed (for example, reporting Dean/Cas had 2348 new works when they actually had 6456). Here's a post about it: https://www.tumblr.com/5ummit/738707388904898560/

--

Huh! I thought she was better at stats than this. We were on a panel together at one point, and she seems cool, but unfortunately, fandom stats are often not done all that well.

I know we all love graphs, but I want everyone to be critical of this stuff, including mine. I love Toast's work too, in addition to centreoftheselights, but I remember some old Wattpad stats where the methodology was to mark any work too incoherent to classify as gen... (LOL. Dude, have you seen Wattpad? Default gen, my ass!) There are tons of things wrong with every major fandom stats project or regular poster's work.

I haven't gotten on this soapbox lately, mostly because I've been too busy to run any of my own stats stuff heavily this year, but yeah... "Fandom stats" tend to consist of the same like... maaaaaaybe 4-5 fans, most of whom aren't statisticians.

I got invited to a con panel a few times based on... like... existing in public. And don't get me wrong: I do try to make sure shit I post is accurate and labeled as what it actually is, but I know I'm nothing hot when it comes to stats. I think I ask slightly smarter questions than usual and am willing to hand-count more things, but my actual "stats" are just "Here's the % of X. Here's the % of Y." and not a higher level analysis.

It's simply that the field is wide open with no competition. Aside from a tiny handful of repeat posters, it's just millions of randos grabbing the same few numbers from AO3 works search or filters and going "Gasp! Fandom has X% m/m!" (Ignoring that it's an AO3-only % and that everyone has access to this number and that it's a boring-ass thing to repost for the thousandth time.)

A new wrinkle is, of course, that if one uses one's personal account, one may have people muted. I suppose I'll have to get a new account if I want to be really accurate about stuff, though I think I currently only have 2 people muted and they're not prolific.

--

I don't want to put my own work down or that of the other people who post stats, but as audience members, we have got to get in the habit of reading the methodology section more carefully.

[tobeabatman]

Pre-diabetes is a bs term, pre-obesity is a bs term.

There isn’t any ”pre” for conditions. You aren’t ”a pre-cancer patient” if you are a heavy smoker with no cancer, and you aren’t ”pre” any condition, even though you know there’s a good possibility that you’ll inherit a certain condition later in life because you are genetically predisposed to it.

There is no pre-obesity because not every fat person will get “obese”, aka very fat (not that there’s anything wrong with being ”obese”/very fat either. My BMI is considered ”obese” for my age). Unlike what thin people often seem to think, a lot of fat people have a certain weight after which our weight gain will naturally stop or slow down. You can observe this happening when you look at your fat relatives: e.g your fat aunt most likely isn’t adding on a lot of weight anymore after a certain age.

The term ”pre-obesity” works as a way to justify why we fat people deserve to be shamed or why we deserve to get sh*t care by healthcare professionals. It gives an excuse for treating smaller fat people like shit, even though there’s a lot of contradicting research on the health effects of being a small fat (”overweight”), some even stating that ”overweight” individuals live longer than their thin counterparts. And regardless, the line between ”overweight” and thin was drawn on water and changed over time: there is no reason why we define BMI over 25 as overweight, besides the fact that the number 25 was easy to remember (and BMI itself isn’t even accurate).

There isn’t pre-diabetes, because that’s a stupid fear-mongering term used by health gurus on the internet. I would be considered ”pre-diabetic” by internet graphs that state certain blood glucose levels, and HDL and LDL cholesterol levels to be pre-diabetic.

Despite this, my blood results were considered to be in the normal range, and later (after I expressed concern for my blood tests results due to those stupid ”signs of pre-diabetes” graphs on the internet) a nurse told me that if my blood results had been a sign of me getting diabetes soon, the doctor(s) who analysed my blood tests would have told me that.

Anyway, have a lovely day all!

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 16)

tw: literally Yves watching ur every move, super suffocating stuff, Yandere shenanigans

Yeah ok u guys decided to lust for the creep, then the creep u shall receive

after this chapter i mean

Part 17

You told him your opinion on Montgomery.

"I see." He replied. Yves deadpanned at you before pulling you in for another kiss on the lips. Your face and the tips of your ears heat up, you're still not used to this yet.

He pulled away and chuckled at your bashfulness. Trying to cover your burning face with your hands is futile, as it only makes him tease you more.

__

"Call me if you need to go somewhere. I'm available for you any time." He slung the straps of his handbag around his shoulder, and Yves prepared his car keys in his hand.

You told him 'okay' as you're rubbing the last of his lipstick marks off using a piece of wet wipe.

He stroked your head, traced his fingertips down your jaw and finally held your chin. He tilted your head upwards and gave you a forehead kiss.

You whinged as you now have to wipe off one last print. He bid you goodbye before closing and locking the front door behind him.

Soon after, you dashed back into your room trying to escape your housemates hollering.

Days would go on like this: Yves breaks into your house using the spare key, scare the shit out of you when you open the door to see him standing there, receive adequate kisses, eat (br)lunch, talk for hours, landlord comes over to fix more stuff, eat dinner and finally, at around midnight- sometimes later, Yves would leave.

You would go to sleep almost immediately, but definitely looking forward to the next day.

He started coming in earlier and earlier, working on his things during times where you had nothing to say. You asked him about his work, he tried explaining it to you but you zoned out. It's so boring and complicated. Full of numbers, charts and graphs, you couldn't care less.

Needless to say, he cooked all your meals and did all your chores for you. You always protested, because it isn't his job and you should be responsible for taking out the trash or keeping yourself alive.

Yves would simply ignore you and do them anyway. If you're particularly worried, he assures you that it's some sort of a hobby of his to take good care of you. If you insist that he stops, he will guilt you; making you think that you're unnecessarily taking away part of his joy in this relationship when it isn't even harming you. So you just let him do what he wants, and you benefit from it greatly.

You really like him. He lets you take a nap on his lap while he types away at your desk, Yves listens to you ramble about your interests and occasionally adds his own fascinating commentary to it. You were astonished to know he has a whole database of random fandom trivia in his head. He washed your sheets and made your bed for you every morning.

He lets you hog his portable fan to yourself. But eventually, his bargaining powers lead to your landlord installing a ceiling air conditioner in your room. The best part? No rise in rent.

Yves gradually introduced you to a solid skincare routine. It started off with a simple face cleanser and moisturizer. Then he added toner to the regime. Then a weekly exfoliation and bi-weekly usage of sheet masks. It was hard for you to remember to do it or have the motivation, but Yves didn't mind maintaining your skin.

You just love the tingles you felt when he reclined you on your chair and he massages your face with the moisturizer. His fingers skillfully work to unravel you.

He made your house actually enjoyable to live in. You haven't gone out in three weeks and that didn't alarm you. You are glowing, physically fitter than ever, clean and most importantly, happy.

You have the drive to do so many things. Like learning a new language, learning to code, learning to knit or crochet, learning to draw... anything you wanted to do, Yves is always the expert to consult. He would buy the materials you need and teach you step by step. It made sense for him to be an extraordinary mentor, because you found out that he was also an exemplary lecturer at your university at one point.

You confirmed that he's currently a researcher, specifically, a research mathematician who works together with other branches of academia including but not limited to human Psychology, biology and sociology. The gist of his project has to do with predictive algorithms and probabilities. It's impressive and complicated, too bad you're not interested beyond what was described in a nutshell.

It's no secret that you look up to him, seeing that you're also a student looking to advance their education.

But it begs the question of his age. He has done so much in a short span of time. You wonder what his true age is.

But it's almost impossible to know because he would be offended whenever his age is brought up. It seems like he despised being perceived as ancient, which you understand. He probably comes from a time where youth is overly worshipped. You let it go, it isn't like his age affects you in any way.

It doesn't mean you didn't try searching him up. At first you suspected that he was lying because you couldn't find anything about him working at your university on the internet. But you sent an email to the administration asking about him. They came back with the confirmation that Yves is currently a hired researcher there. Strange that they knew who he is without knowing his last name. You guess there's only one Yves in the entirety of his faculty.

Speaking of names, you were shocked to find out that Yves didn't have a last name. After tons of relentless teasing from Yves for wanting to know his surname and a platitude of shame-induced face coverings later, you finally discovered he doesn't have one. This was bizarre to you, but Yves only told you off for being insensitive towards him, as not everyone has the privilege of a last name. It seems like a touchy subject, better not bring it up again.

Although it has been around a month since you think you first met Yves, you can safely say that you're madly in love with him. He is way more attentive and caring of you than anyone you ever met. Not even your parents or guardians can compare. Absolutely no one in your life has treated you this well.

There is that nagging feeling that something is very wrong. It wasn't a "He is going to leave you for someone better" feeling, it was more of a "what if Yves is secretly an organ harvester and he's healing you up to make a good price on the black market?"

But due to blind love, you forced yourself to brush it off as some implausible, impossible, silly thought.

...is it though? Yves does give off uncanny vibes sometimes no matter how suave and sexy he is. He has a lot of things to hide and the knowledge that you have of him is not enough to save you if he ever decides to steal a kidney or two.

Maybe this relationship isn't good for you. It keeps giving you inner turmoil to lose sleep over. This is definitely too good to be true, no one likes being a full time babysitter for their partner; this has to be a trap! You think you should quickly break it off with Yves before it gets too--

You were interrupted from your thoughts when you felt the chilly air from the air conditioner nip at your skin. The bliss of not being boiled alive by your own fluid trickles down your forehead.

You close your eyes and grin, letting the wind blow on your sweaty hair. This is lovely, you're so grateful to have Yves in your life. If you didn't have him here, you wouldn't be able to enjoy this temperate luxury.

Yves lets his focused gaze linger on your form for a few more seconds before replacing the remote back onto the holder. Yves pressed the button on his stopwatch, the beep was soft enough to go unnoticed.

He checked the temperature, the time and the humidity of your bedroom before logging them all into his computer. Yves turned his head to look at your position on the floor, you're splayed out like a rag as gusts of cold air strike your body.

He opened another file, which is the floorplan of this house. His eyes scanned the screen, noting down the exact coordinates of your precise location.

It would always be like this. You would start formulating thoughts and suspicions on Yves, spiral so much that you contemplated ending everything to protect yourself, then something interrupts your mind and eradicating the unwanted ideas entirely. Be it a change in temperature, texture, hunger or thirst. Sometimes, it's because you feel you hit your Yves-interaction/social quota for the day. So he would excuse himself and leave your house until you recovered.

He always comes back at the perfect time. Just right when you're starting to yearn for him. Yves ensures he never leaves for too long to make you think he's neglecting you. But he wouldn't come back too soon to make you go "yuck, this bitch's face again?"

Your signs could be as minuscule as a lower lip twitch, a brief, split-second movement of the eye, flaring of nostrils, positioning of your arms or even a change in the depth or rhythm of your breathing.

Or it could be an increase in heart rate, body temperature or sweat beading from your pores. Hell, it could even be the sound of you swallowing your spit or the smell of irritation.

They are all telltale signs that you're about to do or think about something undesirable due to overwhelm or underwhelm.

It's scary. He could just detect it with his superhuman senses. But ignorance is bliss, you still didn't know that he's puppeteering your environment accordingly. He would very much like to keep it that way.

Yves must admit, he has been careless. For the past three weeks, he failed to consider that his daily presence is wearing you down. It was his own fault for disregarding his calculations, Yves was originally only supposed to see you four times a week; that was the most optimal arrangement.

But he was enamoured, as desperate and feverish as you to be together. He just hides it impeccably well. Could you blame him, though? This was the first time you acknowledged him, the first time Yves got to kiss, touch, and hug you as freely as he wanted. The first time he gets to observe past the use of cameras- he does not need to hide. He gets to put his elaborate meal plans to use, you're eating his cooking, he's washing your clothes and you're accepting his backrubs. This is the closest so far to the ideal he wanted in his life with you. Anyone would be greedy in his situation.

But he flew too close to the sun like Icarus did. The wax melted off his wings and now he has to face the consequences that would have been avoided if only he had controlled himself better.

He's starting to notice you're not as positively receptive to his kisses as before. Sometimes even outright grimacing and shuddering in disgust when you think he's not looking. You spent a couple minutes longer in the bathroom, sometimes up to an hour, claiming you had stomach issues. But you didn't have problems with your digestion, your boyfriend made sure of that. He meticulously checks everything that goes into your mouth and he knows you didn't even pull your pants down. All you did was sit in the corner and scroll on your phone.

You did it just to escape from Yves and he's fully aware of that.

It devastated him when he went through your internet history:

Yves removed his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He checked the timestamps, and you accessed the web since three in the morning.

"Why are my boyfriend's kisses and hugs gross to me now"

"Clingy boyfriend"

"How to tell my boyfriend to stop being clingy without hurting his feelings"

"How to say no to hugs"

"How to say no to hugs and kisses"

"How to say no"

"How to stop people pleasing"

"How to tell people that i dont want to see them but not forever just for a few days"

"Social battery"

"Therapists near me"

"Therapy price"

"is University counseling free"

"university counseling wait times"

"How to break up with my boyfriend"

"Is it rude to break up over text"

"Script for breaking up"

"Nice script for breaking up"

"Kind script for breaking up"

"Breaking up without hurting his feelings script"

"ChatGPT"

"Do retired lecturers have a habit of checking for plagiarism in their day to day life"

"Is AI generated content plagiarism"

"Jobs near me"

He knows he has no one but himself to blame. He had a plan all laid out, if he followed it to a Tee, it would have conditioned you to ultimately accept his intense love without complaints. He was supposed to give you a maximum of one kiss on the lips and four others somewhere else on your face. But gave you a whopping average of 76 kisses a day, 20 of which are on the lips; 1520% of the actual daily cap on kisses.

Likewise, he hugged you too much. Yves was only supposed to give you 12 hugs, lasting 8 seconds each at most, spaced throughout the day. However, you're in his arms for a total of 6 hours a day; 2250% of the maximum.

He is the first thing you see in the morning and the last face you perceive before sleeping, From before sunrise to past beyond sundown, you would be exposed to him; from 6am to 12am the next day; he would already be in your room before you're even awake. Subconsciously, you know he's there because the brain never stops working.

Of course, you would be sick of him! It doesn't matter if you came from an affectionate family or you turned out severely touch-starved, with extreme figures like these, anyone would be nauseated with his presence by the third week!

Yves fought back the urge to run the numbers back the fifth time. The cold hard facts are there, he made a grave mistake. Painstakingly recalculating everything is just a pathetic attempt to appease his denial that he lost control over himself.

He sighed and propped his head up by an elbow, absentmindedly fiddling on his calculator. Yves's eyes flitted up to the monitor. You're curled up into a ball on your bed, scrolling on your phone. Most likely to try and catch up with your own me-time. Yves could see pixels of bags forming under your eyes.

He shook his head and decided he must rectify this. Yves got up from his seat and sauntered out of his office, switching the lights off but leaving his surveillance equipment on.

Meanwhile, you yawned, closing your eyes and letting your phone slip next to you. Finally but reluctantly drifting off to sleep.

[livesincerely]

i was just reading back through your writer’s desks and remembered how much i loved the slideshow au! no pressure but do you have anymore thoughts on it? it’s just one of my faves <3

The outline/notes for that one are still in the very early stages but I’m happy to share what I’ve got so far!

00000

He’s waiting for Tony to come back from the bathroom, the next episode of Crime Scene Kitchen queued up on the tv, when his phone vibrates with a text from Jack.

this prod meeting is running long, probs won’t be back until late. Go ahead and watch w/o me

Everything ok?

ya but part of the set got busted during a scene change so I gotta figure when/how to fix it before tomorrow night

I’ll put your takeout in the fridge and save you some egg rolls

and that’s why you’re my favorite

Say hi to Medda for me

of course

“Jack’s not going to be home until late,” Davey announces as Tony wanders back into the living room. “He says we should start without him.”

….

“Dave,” Tony says, sighing deeply. “Why am I looking at a PowerPoint titled, “Jack Kelly + David Jacobs: A Comprehensive Argument for Maintaining Equilibrium.”

Davey pins him with a scathing look. “It’s a Google Slides presentation, you godless heathen.”

“What the fuck?” Tony asks, ignoring him, clicking rapidly through the screens. “When did you even make this?”

Davey shifts in his seat. “I mean, it’s more of a living document, so it’s never really finished—“

“Davey.”

“A couple years ago, I guess,” Davey says. “Give or take.”

Tony squints at the computer screen. “It’s saved on your old university account.”

“Okay, or maybe it was three months into junior year!” Davey admits, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was a stressful semester and I was super nervous about failing my animal science midterm and Jack was out on a date with that PoliSci major that lived upstairs and— And the when isn’t the point! The point is, according to my research, telling Jack isn’t worth the risk of ruining our friendship.”

“What are these graphs even measuring?” Tony asks, staring at one of the slides. “‘Overall Happiness, Jacobs v Others’?”

….

“Well, your math is absolute shit, for one thing,” Tony says, frowning at a graph entitled ‘Art Pieces per Subject’. Davey’s name is sitting in dead last. “There’s no way these numbers are right. Jack draws you literally all of the time.”

Davey frowns right back at him. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Uh, yeah he fucking does,” Tony disagrees. “You’re, like, one of his favorite things to make art of, period. He spends about half his time bitching about how copic doesn’t make a marker that matches your eyes—at this point I’m pretty sure he’s got more drawings of you than actual pictures.”

“I think I would’ve noticed if Jack suddenly started drawing me,” Davey scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s not like he’s subtle when something’s caught his eye. Plus, he lets me flip through his sketchbooks whenever he finishes filling one and I’m almost never in them.”

“Which one?” Tony asks.

Davey blinks. “Which one, what?”

“Which one,” Tony repeats, oddly intent. “Which sketchbook does he show you?”

“What do you mean, which one?” Davey asks, irritated. “The only one! The one he always— it’s not like it’s some big secret!”

Tony stares. Then Tony sighs.

Very quietly, Davey hears him mutter, “…pair of fucking morons.”

…..

“Okay, but, riddle me this,” Tony says. “Why don’t you just tell him? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“What’s the worst that could— I literally just went over all the reasons why that’s a horrible idea!” Davey exclaims. “It would ruin everything!”

“I really don’t think it would, Dave,” Tony says. “You and Jack… will ya at least think about it?”

“I’ve done nothing but think about it,” Davey says, and to his horror, he can feel his eyes starting to sting. “I can’t.”

“Want me to do it?” Tony offers, and he says it like a joke but Davey knows him too well to think that he’s anything but absolutely serious.

He jolts forward, arms outstretched as if to preemptively cram the words back down his throat. “Don’t you fucking dare, Tones, I am so fucking serious—“

“Okay, okay!” Tony says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I won’t snitch on your neurotic ass, even if it’d make you happier in the long run. My word as my bond or whatever.”

Davey huffs out a laugh, and it’s only a little teary. “Fuck you, my neurotic ass is the reason you made it to graduation, shithead.”

…..

“Hey, can I borrow your laptop?” Jack asks. “Mine’s dead and I left my charger at the theater.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Davey absently responds.

…..

“Davey,” Jack says, voice straining. “What the hell is this?”

“What is what?” Davey asks.

“This.” He turns the laptop around and— oh shit. It’s The Argument.

He feels his blood run cold. “Oh,” he says. “That.”

“Dave,” Jack says, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. “Did you make a fucking PowerPoint about me? About us?”

Davey swallows. “…It’s actually a Google Slides presentation,” he says weakly.

…..

“You’re telling me this is nothing?” Jack demands, incredulous. He tilts the screen back to show Davey the current slide, which is just an enlarged photo of Jack’s handsome, smiling face, surrounded by a halo of red arrows and the caption, ‘JUST LOOK AT HIM,’ written in boldfaced text. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Maybe we can stop looking at it now,” Davey says, loudly. He leans over the back of the couch, making another panicked grab for his laptop, but Jack dodges out of the way, clicking to the next slide.

[olenvasynyt]

I come to you for reprieve bc I’m drowning in work and wish to live vicariously through your acoeas Vanserra brothers.

What would each of the brothers do for work if they lived today?

Actually even better- what would they do for work versus what would they actually LIKE to do for work if they weren’t worried about Beron’s opinion (if that changes the answer at all).

Okay I apologize for taking so long to answer this 😂😭 I am not sure if you mean an AU modern day but I shall answer that! This is really hard and I'm a bit stumped because work gives me anxiety and I don't know shit about certain corporate jobs 😂😭

All of the brothers probably work as nepo-babies in Beron's big monopoly business (generic business idk what it could be, maybe like imports and exports or a corrupt business like Amazon🤷‍♀️)

Eris and Galeti would be in investor relations where they're talking to investors and showing them the business and making alliances, essentially. I feel like Eris enjoys that job and thrives in that sort of space but he wants to go higher, but Galeti is a stereotypical party boy who enjoys the talking and the investor parties instead of the business. He's pretty free spirited. I feel like it is so cliche but I feel like he would love to be a bar tender at a club or something.

Elmar and Aatos would work in the online security side of the business. Elmar is basically bullshitting it and fucking around in his office and enjoying his time bossing people around, and Aatos actually does the work. Aatos is very good at what he does but he HATES being behind the computer. If he could choose his own career he would probably do something with environmental science like researching and doing animal conservation! Would probably want to go to college and have an internship at a national park!

Raivis…I would say something on the finance side. Him being an accountant sounds so boring but he is very stingy on the details. And I’m going to self-insert and say that he would love numbers and charts and graphs and the analysis behind that. He would absolutely want to grow out of his position and do something “more important” but he doesn’t understand how good he has it!

I feel like Lucien would not be in this Vanserra business at all and probably do something super indie like run a bike repair shop 😂 (I dated a guy who repaired bikes at this little bike shop and he was super punk and fun and sweet and it just seems like something Lucien would do) he is still rich because he’s a Vanserra but he still works to stay busy. Spends most of his Beron’s money traveling and partying and adding fancy exclusive edition books to his book collection.

[piratesexmachine420]

I've been peeking at TI-83 Plus documentation in preparation for potentially porting i68soyuz (i80soyuz?) to it, and wowwwwwwww is it foreign. Like I knew there were gonna be differences--they're based on completely different processors,* for god's sake--but man they are different different.

The OSes have nothing in common. The SDKs have nothing in common (I'm having a hard time even finding a C compiler for the TI-83 Plus). The execution models have nothing in common. The privilege controls have nothing in common. The documentations have nothing in common. I'm only barely exaggerating.

This won't be like porting from, say, Windows x64 to Windows ARM, or Windows to Mac. It's more like porting from MS-DOS to N64, except that both MS-DOS and the N64 have easily available C compilers. It's gonna be a lot of work to port even this meager of a codebase.

*The TI-92s, TI-89s and Voyage 200 use Motorola 68000 family CPUs. Every other graphing calculator with a model number starting with TI-8x or TI-7x† use Zilog Z80 family CPUs‡. (Oh, and besides a few twenty year old engineering samples, the TI-Nspires all use ARM9s.) †Not the TI-74 and TI-78, they aren't graphing calculators. They're ...different. TI loves to assign model numbers in weird orders. Oh, and they're based on the TMS7000 microcomputer, which is some in-house shit neither you nor I have ever heard of. Also not the TI-88, which also wasn't a graphing calculator. And was canceled. And used some really in-house shit. ‡The TI-83 Premium CE Edition Python and TI-84 Plus CE Python also include an ARM coprocessor. Long story involving France.

[ask-the-meteor-crew]

I think setting the character unlocks only 100 followers apart was maybe not the best idea. Y’all ain’t getting the next one until 1000, because holy shit I’m not ready to add another and did not expect to gain followers this fast. Thanks so much! But holy wow! Edit: I'm so serious, I love numbers and I gotta say as someone whos been running ask blogs on tumblr since 2016 this graph is ABSURD

[raccoonfallsharder]

i like to imagine that if one were to give Rocket a sudoku or crosswords puzzle, he can fill them all out at an unbelievable rate. like, you'd introduce him to the concept of sudoku, how each row and each column and each 3×3 grid should have nine distinct and non-repeating numerical digits–

but you haven't finished explaining the rules and Rocket's already filling out the empty boxes with his pencil like ticking off items on a laundry list. not a minute later, it's solved. he then gets confused at your jaw dropping while showing you the filled-out paper puzzle.

"what? you're- you just, fill out the thing with numbers, right? what's so surprising?"

i love this! im sorry i didn’t see this ask sooner but YES. thank you so much for this PERFECT mental image lol. i am actually working on a oneshot that’s not about this EXACTLY but is about rocket’s brain in relation to some of these things lol. the way he sees shit.

sudoku, i think, is easy for him. you explain the rules once and he just looks at the grid and he knows where everything goes. it’s like looking at a bomb or a gun. all the pieces have a home — it only takes one glance with soft eyes to see where each thing fits.

word searches, too. once he knows what a word is supposed to look like, he can take in a box of letters with that same glance and be like — oh, there’s fifteen words. sometimes he finds words that aren’t even intentionally included.

the trick with both these puzzles is that rocket does not get caught up in the sequence of things. he doesn’t go line-by-line or letter-by-letter. he has a more holistic way of understanding things — a big-picture kind of guy. looks at them and says “this is where the thing fits.”

now, crossword puzzles? those i’m less sure of. i think rocket would be the type to be annoyed by “bad clues.” his vocabulistics ain’t always standard, so to speak, and i bet he sometimes makes up words. plus, having to remember how they’re supposed to be spelled? that’s a problem. sometimes the clue will be like “more yellow than blue; a French liqueur” and instead of writing in “chartreuse” rocket is like “greeeeeeen” because why the fuck not, this game is stupid. he finishes in record time but when you look at it, most of the answers are like… only sorta-conceptually-correct? and usually with creative spellings? occasionally he’ll throw in a cluster of letters in kree?

“so i can see you answered this column with crow but you used a character i don’t recognize for the w and it’s overlapping with the g in lasagna. and uhm neither of those are technically right.”

“yeah in shi’ar that letter makes a sound like wuh or guh. little further back in the throat though.”

“uh huh. but this is, uhm, a US-english crossword.”

“so?”

“…good talk.”

now maybe when he’s a little older, and the Star Kids have grown up and have Star Kids of their own, and Old Man Rocket is sitting outside a cantina on Knowhere making origami versions of cosmo for them — maybe in between he pulls out the giant book of puzzles pete sent him for christmas last year. adjusts his reading glasses and strokes a claw over his grizzled whiskers. the kids come up and ask him what he’s working on today and he shows them and teaches them how to do each one.

“this one you can’t repeat any numbers.”

“that seems hard.”

“nah, it’ll be easy for you. you’re almost as much of a genius as me. now, this one you gotta find these words in this graph.”

“okay. i think i like this better. what about that one?”

“ah, i used to hate those ones but now they’re my favorite.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. for these ones, you just make shit up, and you bend all the rules till your answer works.”

[topazs-stuff]

living planets < I >

"Don’t worry, dear... yeah, yeah, I ate—promise. Really, don’t worry about me. I’ve got it covered. Yes, I’ll take my medication, and I’ll take care of myself. It’s just... I need to compile these findings—try to make sense of it all, maybe form a theory, a hypothesis. I’ll send it to you once it’s ready so you can read it, okay? Yeah... yeah, I promise. Alright. Take care, love. Bye."

As he hangs up the call, he lets out a weary sigh, his hand instinctively brushing across the cluttered desk. Data sheets, charts, and geological samples—spanning from 6000 BCE to the present day—are scattered in a chaotic mess. He picks up a report, scanning it with furrowed brows, then tosses it aside with a frustrated grunt. “This shit doesn’t make any sense... How can a volcano erupt with no buildup? No seismic activity, no pressure changes—nothing.” He mutters to himself, flipping through more pages. “And four times? Four times, across millennia? If it were just one, I could’ve ignored it. Coincidence. Statistical anomaly.”

His hands shake slightly as he fishes a pill bottle from the edge of the desk, popping the cap open with practiced ease. “This is truly a headache,” he sighs, swallowing the pill dry. His eyes drift back to the data, unwilling to let it go. Something about it gnaws at the edges of his mind, refusing to let him rest. Massaging his temples, he slumps into the creaking chair, his mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions. With trembling fingers, he boots up the simulation software. "One more," he mutters under his breath. "Just one more. I just need at least one case where everything goes... normally. If there’s a god—oh mighty—make sense of this data." His voice cracks slightly, betraying the mounting unease.

He hits the start button and leans in, his gaze fixed intently on the screen as the simulation begins to run. His other hand fidgets with a pen, spinning it between his fingers with increasing agitation. Every flick of his wrist, every tap of the keyboard, carries the weight of his desperation. His lips move silently as numbers and graphs play out before him. "Please," he whispers, barely audible. "Please no... not again." His eyes dart across the results, scanning for anomalies, for patterns, for anything. The pen slips from his fingers, clattering onto the desk. He freezes. The simulation’s outcome becomes unmistakable. The same eerie conclusion as before.

"It fucking happened again," he hisses, his voice sharp and trembling. His fists clench, gripping the edge of the desk as if trying to steady himself. "I can’t even blame my software. I’ve run this on two other systems—double-checked every variable." He exhales sharply, his breaths shallow and rapid. "It has to be the data. The data must be wrong."

He grabs his phone with shaky hands, dialing a number with practiced urgency. As soon as the line connects, he doesn’t wait for pleasantries. “The geological record we’ve been using is wrong. There’s no doubt about it,” he snaps.

A muffled voice on the other end responds, but whatever they’re saying only fuels his irritation. “What do you mean I’m crazy?” he cuts in, his tone sharp and incredulous. “Oh, so you’re telling me the data—showing that a volcano exploded and wiped out an entire region—when that volcano had no geological possibility of erupting for another thousand years, is accurate? Do you even hear yourself right now?”

The voice tries to counter, but he’s too far gone. Sarcasm drips from his words. “Oh, of course, I’m the fucking idiot here. Yeah. Sure. Great talk.” Without another word, he hangs up, slamming the phone onto the desk. “Fucking hell,” Alex mutters, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Everyone thinks I’m crazy. And this data—this damn data—is driving me insane. Why me?” He groans, slumping back in his chair.

With a frustrated sigh, he picks up the phone he’d thrown moments ago, brushing off the dust as if that would also wipe away his exasperation. His eyes dart to a business card lying amidst the chaos of his desk. "Why don’t I call him?" he mumbles to himself. "He might have an idea—or at least know something."

He grabs the card, carefully dialing the number etched into its surface. The phone rings twice before a calm, unfamiliar voice answers.

“Uh, hello? Mister Ishu? This is Alex—Alex Martin. We met during the G20 Summit back in 2034? You gave me your card.” His voice wavers slightly, unsure if the man even remembers him. “I know, I know—it’s been three years. But, um... I’ve been studying Earth’s geological data, and, uh, the explosion of Mount Vesuvius? It’s—it’s very peculiar, to say the least.”

The voice on the other end pauses, then responds. Alex’s eyes widen slightly at the words. “Wait—you’re also looking into it?” His breath catches. “So, it’s not just me. You find it weird too. That’s... that’s a relief, I guess.”

He leans forward, pen tapping anxiously against his desk. “Do you have any idea what might’ve caused it?” A longer pause. When the reply comes, Alex stiffens, repeating the words aloud as if they’re incomprehensible. “You... you’ve started to consider Earth as a living thing?”

He lets out a nervous laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “I mean—it’s a planet. A rock. How could it possibly be alive? I didn’t study much biology, but a creature like this shouldn’t even be... possible. Should it?”

The voice on the other end says something else—calm, measured, almost cryptic. Alex nods absently, even though they can’t see him. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll, uh—I’ll call you later. Thank you, Mister Ishu, for your time.”

He ends the call and stares at the phone in his hand, his mind racing. The idea lingers, impossible yet... it was explaining everything.

[scientia-rex]

Hello!

Would you be willing to take a look at this paper and share your thoughts?

https://www.nature.com/articles/s41591-022-02012-w

Specifically Fig. 2a - Obesity - Relation between daily steps over time and incident chronic disease. The graph has the most fascinating increase in obesity rates at around 8000 steps per day but the researchers do not mention it at all in their results or discussion.

My hypothesis would be that overweight individuals are more likely to be aware that 8-10k steps is the recommended amount, given that the participants are Fitbit wearers? But presumably fitbit wearers are semi-uniformly aware of the recommended # of steps per day?

Thank you for any insights.

Honestly, I wouldn't put a lot of stock in that association until or unless it's confirm by repeated studies. Looking at their data analysis, they ran a SHIT TON of analyses, and when you do that, you need to divvy up the level of Type I error risk across ALL the analyses--which gets hellaciously complicated when you're looking at the kind of analyses they're doing, and I'm not shocked they're mostly like "look, the P-value here is less than 0.001, it's significant, OK?" but I'm not even kidding--that might not be significant enough when you consider how many tests they ran. Researchers running multiple tests to try and find something significant is a notorious problem in science because they rarely disclose how many nonsignificant findings they got before they found a significant one, and what you are supposed to do if you run the numbers multiple times (pulling out one variable, adding another in) is again raise the P-value bar proportionate to how many times you crunched the data. So if I'm willing to accept a 5% risk of a false positive result (the typical p < 0.05 we know and love) and I run 100 different analyses, which is not at all difficult to do with modern software, I am supposed to now raise my threshold for a significant result to p < 0.0005. No one does that. Which means that a lot of "significant" findings in research aren't, by the strict mathematical criteria we're supposed to use in order to make statistical analysis valid.

Which isn't to say that couldn't be genuinely meaningful at the population level, just that I doubt it is. And if I'm not convinced by the data and I don't see a reason why that has face validity, it goes in my "huh" file and I move on. Sometimes you need to revisit the "huh" file but most of those results drop into nothingness because they were nothing to begin with.