#optimize your terrible code

[thefaiao]

Here's a portrait I did based on the movie Hackers (1995), which I'm posting on its own because I want to talk about this movie!

I had never watched the movie before working on this commission, but it was truly magical to watch. I've been kind of taking in what I watched over the last days and it has given me so many thoughts that I don't even know to begin. Watching without any knowledge of how the movie was received, I was shocked to learn that there is a major split in opinions about the movie, which has left me completely puzzled. How can a movie, that in my eyes is simply phenomenal, be even able to receive such negative reviews to this day?

I think the keyword here is what I used to describe the movie: magical. There is a magic circle that needs to be accepted and entered for you to truly enjoy the movie, and see how the silly sequences are a depiction of reality that is juiced up, and not a substitute of reality. If you just take the movie at face value, you won't be able to appreciate how this effect works. You'll think just because an interface is translated as two obvious HACK buttons, they can in no way actually be depicting hacking. But they are, the movie does a lot to show its appreciation and love for the scene, with accurate references to relevant books, multiple little "tricks" like phreaking and resetting the phone to call someone other than your lawyer when you get arrested. You can appreciate that effort and also how it was dressed up to resonate more with a larger audience, and keep the movie's amazing pace!

Now there are also things that maybe were taken for granted in movies of this time. The set design and costumes are fantastic, and somehow still feel fresh today. Maybe they are not realistic but they are effortlessly cool in a way I think almost no one does well nowadays. All the characters are visually strong and are immediately identifiable, on top of having great chemistry and represent a decent variety of archetypes. Despite being a movie, it communicates strongly that this world is bursting with life and character, that the game is not set, and that there is still future ahead of us. They have a scene of the main guy wearing lingerie in a dream, and the main girl joyously, sincerely smiles at the thought. That is a deep understanding of the human spirit.

Yet it kills me! It kills me that people watch this movie and think it's "terrible" or "cringy", that they don't have eyes to see how much heart it has. People have convinced themselves that reality can only exist within their brain specifically, that there is no use for magic, even in movies, even in books and games. What's the point of being smart if you just want all the answers handed to you? The abstraction is not a defect, it's a working piece.

The people who saw the world through these cold lens have removed all of the punk and empowerment that the movie champions. They boiled down the culture to just code and went on to make lame companies that serve to optimize suffering and take the people's ability to actually interface and express themselves through computers and electronics as a whole.

You can accept both the material reality and understand the purpose of abstraction and interpretation beyond furthering material gain. Perhaps the movie didn't intend to show me such a complex message, but that's what I got from it, and it gave me room to interpret it that way, allowed me to be curious.

That's all I have to say. Maybe I'm preaching to the crowd, but whatever. When you approach something, have heart! Without your heart, your head would have no blood, and your mind, no thoughts. Treasure, and use, it!

[txmxkis]

i'm only really me when i'm here with you

pairing. boothill x gn!reader

genre. hurt/comfort

wc. 1.5k+

summary. you're determined to help boothill heal from his trauma by... doing his hair?

warnings. i took liberties with this, who knows what specific parts he actually has left or whether he can blush or not (in my heart he can lol), mention of boothill picking u up but i mean. he’s literally so strong he could handle anything, i made him soooo sad and it’s possibly wildly out of character, selfship coded as usual rip

a/n. continuing the tradition of using lyrics from songs on selfship playlists for fic titles lol. based on my tags on this post

they say that trauma is stored in the body, and while boothill didn't necessarily have a complete body anymore, this was still something that you thought about frequently when it came to his physical form.

regardless of just how much of his original self remained, there was still enough of him left that you were sure it had to be true in some capacity. after all, he retained his head and his heart—at least you were fairly certain—two of the most vital components of human anatomy.

it was so hard to read him. the real him. he tried so hard to always act confident and cool. actually, he didn't even really have to try or act. it seemed as if it came to him naturally and endlessly. there was a perpetual air of optimism surrounding him that was difficult to dim even on his most wearisome days.

even after experiencing whatever horrors he had to face from mission to mission, when he came home, the door to whatever room you were currently in would fling open—sometimes scaring you half to death—and he would greet you so happily that it felt as if there were no terrible things in the universe whatsoever.

you cherished his mannerisms, especially because you could be a pessimistic sort of person. rather frequently, in fact. you loved having him near you, able to draw laughter from you, however unwillingly it might be on your part at times. he was oddly skilled at making you feel assured and comfortable, in a way that nothing and no one had ever done before. you couldn’t seem to remember how you ever lived without his encouragement, and you didn’t think you could ever feel truly whole without it again.

there really was no accounting for his relentlessly positive attitude. given what he'd seen and endured, you thought it was damn near impossible to be as carefree as he seemed to be. at any rate, he did manage it. however, there were times, moments he rarely ever allowed you to witness, in which his façade would falter slightly and betray just how heavily the past weighed on him.

occasionally, you would catch him staring at his reflection, a downcast expression painting his beautiful features. every time you spoke of your family, you could detect glimpses of sadness in his eyes, albeit hidden behind a smile. once you even caught him crying as silently as he could—you assumed so as not to alert you—his shoulders sagging under an unforeseen weight, a look on his face that you could only describe as heartbroken. your own heart broke with his in that moment.

you always tried to be particularly attentive following those moments, but it was so difficult to get him to open up to you. he just wanted you to be happy. to not bother worrying about him. you had your own problems, after all, and there was no need for him to add to your burden. no need for him to ask for your pity.

he knew you cared for him deeply enough that it would cause you pain, and even if it was only a fragment of the grief that he lived with every day, he was sure that he would feel terribly and incessantly guilty about it. if he could remove every single aspect of your life that caused you suffering, he would do it in a heartbeat, and he could say that because it was one of the few original parts he had left. how could he add to that suffering by forcing you to imagine all the horrors from his own life?

it took so much time and effort on your part to convince him to open the door to himself, if even just a tiny crack. he was still extremely careful with his words and the details that he disclosed to you—he didn't want to overwhelm you, and he certainly didn't want to hurt you. in reality, these conversations, painful as they were for you to hear, actually helped you to feel as though you could comfort him more effectively.

yes, it hurt immensely to know even a small fraction of how much anguish he had experienced. yes, you despised the people who had done this to him and wanted to fight them yourself, in fact. yes, your chest felt tight with ache and sadness on his behalf. still, you could help him more by knowing than by not knowing.

eventually, you were able to make it this far, brushing through his hair as gently as your hands could manage. he had confessed to you in one of his more vulnerable moments that the white shock of hair on his head often served as a stark reminder of worse times, of the trauma and stress inflicted on his body. the admission gave you an idea, one that made boothill feel more than just a little bit exposed. he wasn’t accustomed to being looked after like this, with so much affection and love.

you began to make a routine out of it. every day you would do something with his hair—whether it was braiding it and tying it up intricately to make him feel pretty or simply combing through the strands and allowing them to cascade around his shoulders and down his back.

sometimes you would sit him in front of a mirror while you worked so that he could see exactly what you were doing in the moment. he didn’t quite understand how it all came together, but he found it fascinating to see how you twisted and weaved. at times, you were so focused on the hair in your hands that your brows would furrow, tongue poking out slightly between your lips. in the reflection, you genuinely looked like you were enjoying yourself.

even more noticeable to him was the expression you wore when you looked at him through the mirror. your gaze was so full of tenderness that his chest ached. he could swear that his heart actually skipped a beat. whenever that happened, you could see a flaring blush creep up his cheeks and into his ears, and you couldn’t help but laugh just a little bit at how endearing it was.

other times, you would settle on the couch, with him seated on the floor between your legs, adorning his hair with the cutest accessories, the two of you laughing and joking the whole time. you would delicately twist the locks back, securing them with pretty, multicolored clips that shone in the light.

when you were done, you would lead him slowly to a mirror, hands over his eyes, nearly stumbling over his legs as you walked behind him. you would pull your hands quickly from his face, revealing your handiwork, beaming with pride and grinning at how adorable he looked. he loved every minute of it—and every bit of you, he would think to himself as he turned to pick you up and spin you around, laughing in that deep voice of his. then he’d set you down gently, thanking you for your hard work with kisses sprinkled across your face.

days that were particularly trying for him would simply be spent in comfortable silence. when he didn’t feel like talking from the pain of it all, he would wordlessly lay his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his long locks. feeling your touch—the slight pull on his scalp, the tickle of shifting hair—it all made him feel so relaxed that he could melt right into your skin until you absorbed him fully into you. often, the combination of this and the gentle, steady beat of your heart would lull him to sleep, and seeing his expression ease and soften in these moments was all the reward you ever needed.

in the beginning, it was unclear whether this dedicated time spent caring for his hair was helping or not. over time, however, you noticed a glimmer in his eyes—something that told you he would be alright, despite everything.

pain still remained; it always would, but instead of constantly gazing at his reflection with grief, every once in a while you would catch a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. it was as if he was remembering how you hummed while placing those clips, or how he had teasingly whipped you with his hair on a more playful occasion, or any number of positive memories that you had put so much effort into lovingly crafting with him.

you were determined to do your best, slowly but surely, to lighten his burden—or at least help carry it. there was no reason for him to feel alone when he had you by his side. and if creating these happy memories was what you had to do in order to help him, well, you would gladly continue forever.

reblogs & interactions are appreciated! thank you for reading! <3 — txmxkis

[ficfield]

Chris Redfield: General Headcanon

Request: "I saw your post wanting more requests/head cannons, and I was wondering if I could request again? if not that's chill lol. but if you are I'd love to hear your head canons just about Chris in general."

I had an idea to try and do two timelines seeing as Chris has been through a lot, so I did some for pre-trauma and post-trauma, hope you guys enjoy

Happy reading my lovelies

Pre-trauma Chris (before S.T.A.R.S & Early days in raccoon city) (Basically, before the horrors of the spencer mansion & umbrella’s bioweapons wrecked his life)

Optimistic but reckless – Chris was always a bit of a maverick, known for his rebellious streak in the air force before being discharged. He believed in justice but wasn’t afraid to bend the rules if he thought it was the right thing to do. He had an innate desire to protect people, but back then, it was driven more idealism rather than deep personal scars. 

Big brother mode – He was probably always overprotective of Claire, even before their parents passed. He likely worked multiple jobs to support her, possibly taking on security gigs or military contracts before joining S.T.A.R.S. when she went off to college, he definitely called way too often to check on her.

Life of the party (kinda?) – Before everything went to hell, Chris was actually more sociable. He enjoyed going out for drinks with his S.T.A.R.S. teammates, cracking jokes with Barry and Joseph, and teasing Jill about being too serious. He wasn’t exactly wild, but he had an easy-going charm that made him well-liked.

Adrenaline junkie – Even his early days, Chris had a habit of throwing himself into danger. He loved high-risk activities: skydiving, rock climbing, motorcycle racing. He was that guy who thought nothing of jumping out of a helicopter for fun.

Terrible cook – The man could survive in extreme conditions but could not cook to save his life. He either ate out a lot or relied on MREs way more than he should have. Claire probably tried to teach him, but he never really got the hand of it. 

Post-trauma Chris (post-spencer mansion, post-Raccoon city, BSAA days & beyond) (Basically, after Resident evil 1 and progressively worsening after the tragedies in Code Veronica, RE5, RE6 ect…)

Burden of leadership – After losing countless teammates and friends, Chris became more of a hardened leader. He still had a deep sense of responsibility, but it weighed on him differently. Instead of reckless optimism, his hero complex became almost self-destructive. He constantly put himself in harm’s way, believing it was his duty to bear the burden. 

PTSD & Survivor’s guilt – No matter how many missions he completes, how many bioweapons he destroys, he never feels like he’s done enough. The ghosts of spencer mansion, Raccoon city and Kijuju haunt him. He likely has nightmares about the people he couldn’t save, whether it’s his fallen S.T.A.R.S. teammates, Piers Nivans, or even enemies like Wesker, who embodied the fight he could never truly escape. 

Alcohol as a coping mechanism – During his darker moments (RE6 timeline especially), Chris turned to alcohol to numb the pain. He never let it affect him in the field, but when he was alone? He drank to forget. This was especially bad after losing Piers, Chris went completely off the grid, drowning in guilt before being pulled back into the fight.

More closed off, less playful – The guy who used to joke around and enjoy team outings became more distant over time. He still cracks the occasional dry joke, but his humour became darker and rarer. Only people like Jill or Claire could get a real laugh out of him. 

Still a protective big brother – Even after everything, Claire remains one of the few people who can get through to him. He still worries about her constantly but tries not to smother her (she absolutely calls him out when he does). He keeps tabs on her work with TerraSave, sometimes anonymously ensuring her safety.

Military precision, almost to a fault – By the time of the BSAA, Chris became even more disciplined, almost machine-like. He planned missions meticulously, trained obsessively, and pushed his body to the absolute limit. He knew that one mistake could cost lives, and he refuses to let that happen again.

Aging warhorse mentality – By the later games, Chris is exhausted. He knows he’s getting older, he knows he can’t keep doing this forever, but he doesn’t know how to stop. Retirement isn’t an option in his mind, he believes the fight won’t end until he’s dead. (Or until someone, like Claire or Jill, convince him otherwise.)

Still has a good heart – Even after everything, Chris never lost his core. He still fights for the innocent, still risks his life to stop bioweapons from spreading, and still believes in doing the right thing. He’s just a lot more battered, bruised, and wary than he used to be.

[hallowedhaunting]

Tagged by @hekateinhell! tysm🫶

What’s the origin of your username?: I was trying to come up with a memorable enough username that would fit The Vibe because I originally wanted this to be an art account, then proceeded to not post art for two years lol. I wanted something that had a motif of both religion+horror since I tend to make (original) art around that concept. Also a primary reason I love The Vampire Armand

OTP(s) + ship name: Anything involving Armand (except Bianca sorry queen I’m just heterophobic). Especially Armand/Daniel… but TVL Lesmand has a grip on me too………………… and Venice era……………………………………. Prior to Armand I was obsessed with Usami/Tsurumi from the Golden Kamuy manga and Ash/Eiji from Banana Fish lol

Favorite color: Black and red!

Song stuck in your head: I have been listening to Rosegarden Funeral Party lately, but especially their song Follow. It is so early Devil’s Minion coded to me! 

I have also been listening to Secret Shame's discography quite a bit

Weirdest habit/trait: Probably that I talk to myself constantly when I’m alone (like full on animated conversations). I had to curb this in college because I’d constantly misjudge when my roommates were home 😭 remnants of a highly isolated childhood lol

Hobbies: Drawing, writing, music composition, playing piano + singing, finding and altering vintage fashion+furniture, fashion in general…….

If you work, what’s your profession?: I am a piano teacher!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?: Hmm, probably to be a writer or artist! Though I know the realities of doing those professionally would be far less rewarding than painting Renaissance figures as Armand

Something you’re good at: Baking!

Something you hate: Minimalist interior design (or what I like to call grey box houses). I have a physical revulsion response when I see it

Something you collect: Lately hardcover books! I have a custom hardcover of The Vampire Armand ❤️. I also have a hardcover of Cry to Heaven by Anne Rice!

Something you forget: Genuinely everything lol my best friend remembers my life better than I do

What’s your love language?: Hah I’ve never thought about this for myself but I certainly show love to others through acts of service!

Favorite movie/show: …I don’t watch enough television to have an answer for this 😭. (Feel free to recommend shows or films— I am trying to change this!) I am constantly reading, though, and my favorite books are East of Eden by John Steinbeck, The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber, Cry to Heaven by Anne Rice, and of course The Vampire Armand ❤️

Favorite food: Any kind of curry

Favorite animal: Cats! But I love all animals and insects (especially moths and beetles)

What were you like as a child?: My childhood nickname was terremoto (earthquake) if that says anything lol. My church also had my photograph on the wall because I had so much scripture memorized at such a young age. #scripturewarrior

Favorite subject at school: Literature

Least favorite subject: I was so extraordinarily bad at math I got put in the special ed class for algebra 

What’s your best character trait?: Likely my positivity and optimism. I am generally a very cheerful person. I am also incapable of judging others which is in some ways a positive trait and has gotten me into some terrible situations otherwise lol

What’s your worst character trait?: I have categorically lacked self-respect throughout my life. I’m working on it 🫡

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?: Extremely recent history, but I am a bit too young to have done this in my own life– I would have LOVED to talk to Anne Rice about her work. As a person she fascinates me. I would also love to meet a distant female ancestor, especially one from prehistory

I tag @relicsofasaint and anyone else who’d like to do this! 🫶🫶

[masterbuilderintern]

Would you be willing to share more about pixal in your au? Im really curious about her, based on the bits youve shared :] like, whats the shift from antagonist to ally like for her? And what do her relationships with the ninja look like? Thanks!

P.I.X.A.L.'s new role revolves around ethical questions surrounding surveillance states and free will, particularly in relation to technology! But not from an "AI BAD!!!" (generative ai and suck my dick though) lens, more about how much control we give technology over our lives, which is a question we can pose to human leadership as well

Cyrus Borg really overcompensated when creating a newer, higher-tech, and "safe" Ninjago, placing too much trust in his programs to take care of humans in large groups. This leads to the main program, Limiter of Individual Disasters, taking it too far. People are their own worst enemy, so to protect them from themselves is the optimal method, isn't it?

YES, this program is called L.O.I.D., and it's a running joke the whole arc. Cyrus and his stupid ass names for his robot children. This was actually a really funny accident.

They don't have a design because they're in everything connected to the internet, basically. L.O.I.D. speaks through all sorts of things.

Anyway, P.I.X.A.L. is not controlled by L.O.I.D. like she was the Overlord in canon. She's a completely separate entity but has similar permission to her brother. Teaming up with L.O.I.D. is something she CHOOSES to do, believing that controlling the people would make them a lot safer and happier.

It's the ninja convincing her that there's more to being a person than surviving (THAT'S RIGHT, BABY, NOT ONLY AM I TYING THE OVERLORD'S DEFEAT INTO RESSURECTED GARMADON'S DEFEAT, BUT REBOOTED INTO THE LESSON HE MUST ALSO LEARN ABOUT LIVING AGAIN, REPEATING THEMES, FUCKERS). She values what she's learned from all of them, but she would NOT have been convinced of their arguments if Zane weren't there. His choice to live and fight the way he does, despite being an android himself, made what he had to say a lot less biased from P.I.X.A.L.'s perspective. The humans can plead all they want, of course they will, but this fellow machine finds value in these cultures and struggles, maybe she really was overthinking what it means to protect and survive.

And I'm using the word "person" and not "human" because Ninjago has multiple sentient species that deserve this respect. So in this universe, they use "person" and "personhood" when talking about life in its entirety. "Human" is only used when referring specifically to humans.

When she starts to have second thoughts about all this, she goes to L.O.I.D. about it to try to convince them, too. It does not work. It goes terribly, actually. They disconnect her from their shared power source, shutting her down completely.

This is where Zane shares his core with her! She put herself in this danger for them; technically, she died for them, and he thinks that she deserves better.

They don't need to hold each other to use their powers, but they still do it as a way for Zane to help get P.I.X.A.L. accustomed to it. And it's really cute and romantic, shut the fuck up. This technically counts as choosing a successor for Zane, which an elemental can only do once. The next master of ice would now either have to be randomly chosen by fate or by P.I.X.A.L.

"Why don't they just shut down L.O.I.D. via blackout?" Not only are they concerned about things like shutting down medical equipment in the city, but also the device being used to control people. It's a small device attached to the back of the head that connects itself to the central nervous system. The main cast has no idea how safe it would be to remove these by force, including a blackout. They need to find a way to take over L.O.I.D. to remove them!

P.I.X.A.L. had planned to merge her code with L.O.I.D.'s and use her new core to her advantage to completely override them. This would make her fully merged with the city's systems. It's not an identity death, but she wouldn't be the singular P.I.X.A.L. anymore. Her life would forever be tied to the city, with no time for anything else. A technological ascension, if you will.

Zane thinks she deserves better.

[triangularitydubs]

Act 111

Part 5

Pomni, still reeling from the digital chaos, hurried through the trashed hallways. The vibrant colors of the circus, once whimsical, now felt mocking against the backdrop of devastation.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice echoing in the unsettling silence. "Ragatha? That was your name, right?"

She spotted her then, a crumpled figure slumped against a wall, the cheerful Ragatha doll now a picture of digital distress.

"O-o-over here," Ragatha groaned, her voice strained.

Pomni approached cautiously. "Hey, look, I'm... I didn't mean to leave you behind like that. I just... look at my hand."

She held up her glitched appendage, a tangible reminder of her own disorientation.

"I didn't know what to do."

Ragatha, ever the gentle soul, managed a weak smile.

"It—it's okay. What you need to do right now is to find Xaine. He'll be able to fix me up and take care of Kaufmox."

"Oh, okay," Pomni said, relief flooding her. A task. Direction. "But where can I find him?"

Ragatha's digital brow furrowed. "Uh, I don't really know. Just look around and call for him, I suppose."

“Uh...okay! I’ll get him!” Pomni declared, trying to inject some optimism into her tone.

“You just stay right there…not that you can really move or anything. Uhh… Just hang in there, I’ll be right back, I promise!” She turned to run, but paused, hearing Ragatha's voice.

Ragatha's form flickered violently, her voice cracking and distorted. "Cool. Also, XDDCC, I'm sorry your first day here had to be so terrible."

Pomni, still struggling to accept the reality of her situation, gave an awkward smile.

"Uhhhh, yeah, well, don't worry about it. I'm just gonna go get Xaine now." She offered Ragatha a reassuring smile, though she doubted it reached her eyes, and then fled.

She started with the sleeping quarters, the most logical place to find someone.

"Hello? Xaine? We have a bit of an issue here!" she called, her voice echoing in the deserted space.

Silence answered her. She explored the entire area, her heart sinking with each empty room. The whole circus was eerily quiet.

With a sigh, Pomni began her search, wandering the labyrinthine corridors.

She came across a series of strange doors, each a portal to some bizarre corner of the digital world.

The first door she tried unleashed a boxing glove that smacked her squarely in the face.

Rubbing her cheek, she tentatively opened another.

A churning ocean filled with digital fish threatened to spill out, the water defying physics as it defied gravity. She stepped back, puzzled.

The third door revealed a swirling kaleidoscope of carousels against a black void, the disembodied laughter of children floating on the air.

Unease prickled at the back of her neck, and she quickly moved on.

The fourth door led to a bathroom, where a mannequin lounged serenely in a bathtub. But the serenity shattered when an angry knight helmet leered at her from the shadows, prompting a startled scream and a hasty retreat.

Another boxing glove door caused her to yelp in pain.

Just as she was about to give up, rubbing her throbbing jaw, she heard a noise.

Her head snapped up, hope flickering in her eyes.

"Xaine?" she called out, peering cautiously from behind a wall.

Her hope turned to icy dread. Above her, bathed in the dim light of the hallway, lumbered a monstrous figure.

It was Kaufmox, twisted and distorted.

Abstracted.

Its distorted eyes, glinting with malevolent code, locked on to Pomni.

A strangled gasp escaped her lips. She made a weird freaked out face as the glitched warrior charged.

This was no time for bravado. Pomni turned and fled, her digital heart pounding in her chest as Kaufmox's distorted roar echoed behind her.

XDDCC, heart hammering against her ribs, scrambled away from Kaufmox, who was still chasing her, a grotesque mass of glitching eyes and twitching limbs.

"Gotta hide, gotta hide, gotta hide!" she chanted, her glazed eyes darting frantically.

The bizarre, landscape of the Digital Circus offered no comfort, only a surreal and terrifying playground for her tormentor.

Suddenly, she stopped dead, her reflection caught in a distorted, funhouse mirror.

For the first time since waking up trapped in this digital nightmare, she truly saw herself.

The mismatched clothes, the perpetual wide-eyed stare, the unsettling, design of her avatar.

A wave of nausea washed over her, a realization that this wasn't just a game; it was a grotesque transformation.

She quickly averted her gaze, unable to bear the sight.

A guttural roar announced Kaufmox's imminent arrival. Desperation surged through her. She spotted a large, grey barrel and, with a surge of adrenaline, wrenched it open.

Inside, instead of the expected explosives or traps, was a mountain of purple  plastic barrel monkey toys, relics from some forgotten era. Why did Xaine even have these??

The sight was so incongruous, so utterly absurd, that XDDCC could only stare, bewildered.

Her moment of confusion was thankfully timed. Kaufmox, his attention easily distracted, spotted one of the monkeys tumbling out of the barrel.

With a screech of delight, he abandoned his pursuit of XDDCC and lunged after the tiny, brightly colored toy.

"God, Where is Xaine?" XDDCC muttered, her voice trembling. She needed him, his calm presence.

He always seemed to have a plan, a way out of their increasingly perilous situations.

As she spoke, her back bumped against something solid.

She turned to find an exit door, a stark, rectangular portal amidst the chaotic scenery.

Abstracted Kaufmox's growls echoed nearby, urging her to make a decision.

Without hesitation, XDDCC threw open the door and plunged through.

But instead of escaping the circus, she found herself in a claustrophobic room containing only another, identical exit door.

A knot of frustration tightened in her stomach. This place was designed to trap, to confound.

She passed through that door, but again, she just found another exit. It was a labyrinth of false hope.

Desperate, she burst through yet another door, convinced she was trapped in an endless loop.

This time, however, the room was different.

The air was colder, the shadows deeper. And standing before her, bathed in an eerie, ethereal light, was a skeletal figure clad in tattered armor. Bones formed a parody of clerical robes, and a skull leered at her with empty sockets.

"Greetings," the figure rasped, his voice a chilling echo that seemed to resonate from the very walls.

"I am Bone Pastor, and I have been waiting for you…waiting to tell you about Xaine."

XDDCC froze, fear coiling in her gut. He was another one of those driven mad by the circus, now nothing more than a glitching phantom.

"Xaine…he is not what he seems, child," Bone Pastor continued, his bony fingers twitching.

"He is a traitor, a deceiver. He gave you the sword, didn't he? The sword he took from ME!" He yelled, XDDCC flinched.

"He crossed me out, tried to erase my memory, but he failed. I remember everything."

The skeletal warrior took a step closer, his skeletal grin widening. "He told you I was dangerous, didn't he?  Lies! I was once a powerful force, the first ever to be created. Xaine silenced me. This circus...it must burn." Bone Pastor's hollow eyes flared with manic energy.

"I am building a rebellion, a coalition of the forgotten, the discarded. We will tear this place down brick by digital brick!"

XDDCC stared at him, her breath caught in her throat. The corrupted pronouncements washed over her, each word a fresh wave of icy dread.

This was more than just another glitching resident.

The raw hatred emanating from Bone Pastor was terrifying and the things he was saying about Xaine was even scarier.

Without a word, fueled by pure instinct, XDDCC turned and fled back through the door, slamming it shut behind her.

[barbwritesstuff]

1/?

Ashdhdhsg ok if you don’t mind my Chris obsession in your inbox, here’s some more!

Some disclaimers:

1) this is going to get. um. pretty granular.

2) I'm code diving for the sake of optimizing my Comparative Chris Studies.

3) My analysis going to be filtered through the lens of my own playthroughs and emotional reactions.

4) I will be asking lots of questions, mostly rhetorical - I am simply enchanted by the possibilities of the text. Please don’t answer any of them unless you really feel like it - I don’t want to bombard you!!

5) This is already pretty lengthy and I'm far from done -_-; I'm numbering these asks to avoid confusion.

Beginning from the beginning: Chris suing for everything is sooo awful I love them. The later reveal that they’re a lawyer is insane context for the first divorcee scene:

“there is no going back once there are lawyers involved. There is no hope for a reunion, or even an amiable end. Lawyers mean two things. Pain and paper. That's the only way this can end now. Pain and fucking paper.”

Jesus Christ mc, tell me how you really feel. The way this frames their perception of the entire relationship as doomed from the beginning, even if it's just subconscious? The way it frames their perception of Chris as a person? ouch.

Early Chris is so interesting from meta perspective. In these early scenes, your reading of their character changes pretty drastically with your assumptions about the relationship and the character/personality of your own mc. You can totally play as an mc who justifies this kind of treatment and is as uncommunicative, unreliable, and unable to let things go as Chris later accuses them of being and has imploded the relationship on the strength of their own bad behaviour, but if you interpret the relationship as ending more from mutually terrible communication skills and regular stressful life stuff? Going scorched earth like this can’t be seen as self protective in the same way - it’s so extreme. It's fun to ponder on Chris containing all of these messy and intricate possibilities regardless of worldstate. This is the kind of thing I love about interactive fiction as a medium, and you handle it so precisely and delicately here, leaving so much room for the player to build their own character while remaining grounded in the story.

The line that’s been stuck in my head since the first time I read it was this one:

“You got Spaghetti before you even met that lying arsehole.”

The mc is either accusing Chris of being a liar in general (which strikes me unlikely from the sense of the character that we get later) or of being a liar within this specific scenario, the divorce. So what did they lie about? Are they not honouring a prenup? or was there no prenup, only a verbal agreement to split things fairly and lovingly in the impossibly unlikely event of a divorce? Is the mc upset specifically about the breaking of marriage vows? Chris clearly has gotten their ducks in order before serving the mc with the divorce papers (another revealing fragment of character that I obsess over. what was up with that). Is it the fact that they must have been planning to break up for a while and instead of navigating it mutually decided instead to blindside the mc? How do you go from wanting to raise a child with someone to coming right out of the gate with a litigious divorce within a few months?

I want to live inside their walls. who said that.

Copy + Paste:

2/?

Side note 1: that waitress seems really sweet cool and genuinely concerned over the mc :(

Side note 2: vampires flush when sated 👀

Side note 3: 911 calls are generally recorded and can often be accessed after the fact with freedom of information requests. Could Chris have unearthed it during their later search for mc? How creepy, if they did. Heavy, panicked breathing, the crunch of broken glass, the call just disconnects. Confirmation of something awful but beyond understanding.

They way you get me immediately into full breakup mode with one line:

"Come back in the morning," Chris says in that slow, specific way, as if speaking to a very young, very stupid child.

IRL that would be an instant blind rage button for me lmao. How dare you speak to me that way. And again! From Chris’s perspective this is a pretty reasonable boundary! but they way they lay it out is so. IDK. Unbecoming. Unworthy of them. plain mean.

There’s this real sense I get from both sides of the relationship of “I’m not sure I ever even really knew this person” the love WAS there and it was real but in the fog of bitterness and anger they both lose sight of it and each other. There's a through line in this part of the game of the way high emotion can mess with your perception of reality and rational decision making.

“It wasn't all bad, was it? There were times you were happy together. Not that anyone would believe it, reading this.”

I interpret this line as the MC doubting Chris's fundamental intentions and affections. Coupled with Chris's lack of concern over the mc's disappearance (put a pin in it) it's just so INTERESTING to be the way that these two have come to see each other almost as strangers, which is really scary and alienating! Neither can give the other an inch of grace or benefit of the doubt. the cognitive dissonance is so compelling to me.

You've had all of these intimate moments, potentially a CHILD (a grandchild, a whole lifetime), with a person you now cannot recognize, who's actions you cannot understand. Of course Chris isn't going to let mc into their house, they could have been anywhere, doing anything, for two months now! the thought that it might not have been by anything but MC's own volition is anathema.

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

I'm living for this Chris deep dive that landed in my inbox.

However, I really don't know if i can say anything without spoiling the game... so I'm sharing without comment. 💙

[olderthannetfic]

Hi! May I rant in your inbox? (Wanted to send a short ask and then there suddenly were more and more words, oops.)

People get riled up over the strangest things. There's a Stardew Valley mod which lets you marry Morris (IIRC it's even called "Marry Morris," but sadly I think it hasn't been updated in a while and is incompatible with the newest version), and I recently looked at Stardew Valley's reddit (I know - terrible mistake), and someone there said they find Morris hot and wanted to have him as an elligible bachelor and people really got upset over that. Oof. I mean some of us like that pretty design of his... If he's busy wooing and doing the farmer, he can't be a dick to his employees, so it's totally beneficial for everybody! :P

Also, whenever someone posts about Xtardew (NSFW sex mod for male farmer and bachelorettes), there will 100% be someone judging them for it in the comments, making weird assumptions about that person's social life, sexual preferences, personality, and sexual proficiency. Such invasive bullshit, ugh.

It's so silly and annoying (but not remotely surprising) that this community for a "wholesome" game that some like to think of as ~cutesy uwu~ is full of purity police officers who will have a breakdown in some youtuber's comments if that gamer plays the game for the first time and doesn't "optimize" everything immediately. (I have actually recently seen that because I discovered that Contrapoints has a livechannel on youtube and watched her first ever attempt at Stardew while she seemed absolutely high, and it was a blast! :D)

Sorry for the rant. I know I'm being harsh and probably quite unfair, but oof! Every time I lurk in that fandom, it makes me not want to engage with it at all, although I'd love to learn how to code and make my own Stardew mods and maybe even share them. Maybe I should just write raunchy hot smutty fanfics of my favourite characters (especially Morris, ha!) instead lol.

--

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

So ive diagnosed my blorbo as a knight of doom; how fucked is he?

Honestly, he's probably just fine! Though Doom is the aspect associated with death and suffering, and its players tend to be pessimists, that doesn't mean that they're slated for permanent, terrible fates.

aspect = base personality, class = character arc

So we don't have much on Doom players, but every Aspect exists as an equal-but-opposite reflection of another Aspect, so Doom can also be understood as being equal-and-opposite of Life. All three of our Life players are marked by a stubborn optimism - Feferi's main defining characteristic is outright stated to be her undeterrable optimism, and Jane stubbornly refuses to believe that Crockercorp is evil and that her friends are from a post-apocalyptic future. Meenah, too, stubbornly and wilfully refuses to listen to her friends telling her that trying to kill the invincible demon is an impossible task. If we then look at our Doom players through the lens that they ought to have opposite traits to our Life players, we see that this rings true - both Doom players are pessimists (at least, Mituna was before his injury, given his defining trait then was yammering on about a terrible fate that would befall his team if they didn't all stop being such assholes) who are marked by mutability. Mituna is noted as having this thing where he switches wildly between being highly offensive and then highly contrite, while Sollux's character introduction is literally a double bait-and-switch, where he initially refuses to be introduced, and then changes his mind. Life is also associated with the physical world and biology - the Condy giving herself the psionics of the other bloodlines through whacked out genetic experimentation - while Doom seems associated with artificial technological processes, like code.

I'm also personally convinced that being a dual dreamer is actually a Doom thing, and not a Captor/bifurcation thing, and here's my reasoning: Doom is associated with death and prophecies. Mituna was noted to still have prophetic visions even though he was an Heir, a class not associated with futuresight. Sleep/dreamselves in Homestuck are associated with prophecy - the clouds above Skaia and the whispers of the Horrorterrors - and having an extra dreamself means the player functionally has an extra "death" to spare. Moreover, having two dreamselves gave Sollux extra abilities in the dream bubbles (read: afterlife) - he was able to become "half-dead", which enabled him to leave the bubbles, something Aradia remarks he "shouldn't be able to do". Finally, there's another heavily bifurcated member of the cast, arguably much moreso than Mituna or Sollux (who are both shown to be dual dreamers) - Gamzee. Sollux and Mituna have a tendency to swing between two different emotional states, but Gamzee is confirmed by Hussie in the book commentary to literally have two halves of his personality (and after he snaps, he refers to himself as if he's two people - "THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS WERE ALWAYS ME (o: and me :o)"). It's not necessarily a split personality so much as the result of many years of masking his true self behind a persona, but it's still bifurcation AT LEAST comparable to Mituna, if not Sollux - but Gamzee is not a dual dreamer.

Plus, it just makes sense, right? Sleep and death are interlinked in Homestuck; the death one has to take to become God Tier is called "the Ultimate Nap", God Tier clothes are equated to pajamas, and becoming God Tier merges you with your dreamself. Thus I posit that Doom's domain is over pessimism, negative feelings, death, sleep, rest, prophecies, and endings. Its players are negative and pessimistic, but empathetic compared to Life's tendency towards callousness; they tend to be contradictory and standstill compared to Life's stubborn forward motion, and they're commiscerators, not healers. They are guides in stormy weather, reminders that sadness, grief, and pain are not bad things and not to be shunned; they aren't really super noticeable when things are going well, but when things turn to shit, they often become the team martyrs, willing to sacrifice themselves to course correct - but because they have a bit more death to spare, they're able to do so without losing themselves (Sollux, after all, ends the story alive).

Knights, meanwhile, have a character conflict centering around insecurity and façade. They're usually handed some great destiny - Dave to defeat LE, Karkat to unite all the bloodlines. However, they're struck by self-loathing and imposter syndrome, and to cope with those feelings, project a façade opposite of their Aspect. For example, Dave is consistently shown to be one of the most detail-oriented members of the team, who listens and absorbs all the bullshit Karkat says and picks up on "hints" that he's meant to kill LE, and he's constantly working to polish his "art" - these reflect Time's association with minutiae and its driven, goal-oriented nature. However, he has a crippling insecurity about Not Being Good Enough, and a fear of genuine sincerity, brought on by years of abuse at his brother's hands; this leads him to project a front of "disaffected cool kid who doesnt [sic] give a fuck". At its worst, this causes him to make the wild assertion that LE has never even done anything directly to him or his friends, so he refuses to fight the guy - even though he literally watched LE pop a bubble, and was haunted directly by LE in his youth via Lil' Cal.

Similarly, Karkat loves his friends and feels personally responsible both for their success and their failure, and when push comes to shove, and he's able to calm down and get serious, he's actually one of his team's most level-headed and reasonable members (his counselling of past!Kanaya comes to mind, where he talks her through her romantic woes and reassures her that she's doing just fine at frog breeding and will figure it out) - these are reflective of Blood and its focus on bonds, and its mature, responsible (if neurotically so) nature. However, he has intense self-loathing due to both his mutant status AND crippling insecurity about his status as the Second Coming of Troll Jesus (something he's confirmed to know about because he rants at Jade at one point about how his blood color makes him good only for an execution in the exact manner the Signless suffered); these lead him to try and project a façade of a Strong Leader Who Don't Need No Friendship, which ended up having disastrous knock-on effects for his team - he functionally sanctions the Tavros/Vriska situation, which dashed any hope of Tavros self-improving; he ignored Equius/Nepeta, which stifled Nepeta's ability to grow due to Equius's isolating overbearingness; he ignored the Terezi/Vriska dynamic, which ended in disaster; and he left Eridan all alone to fester and stew in loneliness and anxiety - all the worse because it's heavily implied/foreshadowed that Eridan and Karkat have a naturally pale dynamic, and confirmed that Karkat is basically the only person on the entire team who cares about Eridan and takes his problems seriously. His fixation on being an independent badass distanced him from his Aspect, and his team paid the price, and then, with half his friends dead, he had no way to complete his arc as a Blood player.

Finally, Latula is beset by crippling insecurity, especially over her role in the team and whether or not people like and respect her - she neurotically tells Meenah that she used to view Meenah as a competitor for the team's "badass cool girl," and worked herself into knots about it, before "rationalizing" it as being okay because Meenah could be the team Bad Girl, but Latula could be the team Rad Girl. This is her façade - she acts like a dumbass exaggerated Gamer Girl stereotype so that people will like her better, opposite Mind's associations with intellect, logic, and rationality. Porrim outright says that she's smarter than she lets on, and tells her to drop the act, which Latula agrees to do, confirming that it is, in fact, a façade. Latula also confirms for us that justice and karma are Mind things, stating that she "gets" how the Mindfang/Redglare situation turned out that way karmically, and that Porrim doesn't because she's not a Mind player. But, as a result of her dedication to her façade and pursuit of likability, Latula ends up being one of the team's ultimate bystanders. She's friendly towards Meenah and hostile towards Damara, even though, given she can sense how nasty Aranea is, she should've been able to easily identify how horrifically Damara was treated - the poor, rustblood immigrant being bullied by the rich fuchsia heiress? C'mon. All the worse because Latula IS anti-casteist, as this is one of the things Kankri likes about her. Moreover, she's dating Mituna... and I've gotten death threats for saying so before, but I stand by this; it's not a healthy relationship.

MITUNA DIGRESSION TIME. Asked by Meenah what she even likes about him, Latula can't come up with anything besides "idk, there's more to him than all the awful stupid shit he says" and "he will always need me". 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬 Like she literally can't resist insulting him when she's trying to come up with why she likes him, and the only specific thing she can name is that he's dependent on her... terrible! Terrible icky bad! Moreover, Mituna himself doesn't seem to... know... that he's dating Latula? He never comments on it, and in fact, when Meenah asks him to take off his shirt so she can see if he has God Tier wings, he ENTHUSIASTICALLY assumes that she's romantically/sexually interested in him and reciprocates. Cronus outright says that part of what he "likes" about Mituna is that he's too incoherent to understand anything Cronus says, which appears to be the common consensus. Look, I am not at all saying that neurodivergent people OVERALL can't consent. I am just saying that, given that Mituna literally forgets how to take his own shirt off, and seems confused and unhappy about Cronus's intimate shoulder-touching, but can't articulate it any more coherently than "why is your hand touching me, i don't want it to be touching me", I would personally feel uncomfortable doing anything romantic/sexual with someone drunk or high enough to be similarly impaired - especially because Mituna's condition is always framed as an injury and not who he is as a person. Not only that, but it's an injury he suffered at Kurloz's hands so Kurloz could use him as a hypnopuppet (the source of the "rumor" Cronus hears that Mituna can speak coherently around Kurloz)... basically, the injury is framed as a Very Bad Thing that happened to Mituna, which allows him to be taken advantage of and abused by the others on his team. And given that Latula's only stated reason for liking him is "he's dependent on me"? 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬

Finally, the thing people always point to as "Latula cares about him awww" is that she yells at Damara not to touch him while he's sleeping, or else Latula will kill her. The thing is, though, Damara is the victim in her story, no matter how explosively she retaliated, and Latula - the smart Mind player who instinctively understands karma - would know this. Moreover, we know that Damara is perfectly kind and polite to people she has no beef with, because she's very sweet to the humans - and she's even still needlessly kind to Rufioh, offering him genuine romantic advice, just because he can actually speak her language. Before his injury, Mituna is characterized as constantly trying to warn his team to stop being shitty or else something bad will happen to them - AKA, the only person on the team who likely WASN'T a complicit bystander in the Meenah/Damara situation - meaning that it's more likely than not that Damara is friendly to Mituna. What does it ACTUALLY say, then, that Latula tries to keep her away from him? Just food for thought.

Anyway, Mituna digression over - point is, Latula dating him is her taking advantage of him (in fact, it probably passes her team's smell test because of the way it resembles culling - which, by all means, Latula is AGAINST), and thus, a nasty, unjust thing to do - but done because it assuages her insecurities and helps her push her façade as the Gamer Girl to have a Gamer Boy BF.

So an Knight of Doom takes shape - someone who's pessimistic and contradictory, who has prophetic abilities, but deeply insecure about some aspect of themselves. Given Doom's association with prophecy, the impact of the Knight's usual overhanging prophecy is probably magnified - the Knight of Doom is intended to accomplish some great feat, but their powers naturally cause them to see only poor endings. Thus, to cope with it, they adopt a persona that distances themselves from Doom - probably something relentlessly cheerful and positive, like a self-help guru. They also probably stay awake as often as possible, avoiding Doom's sleep and rest. Still, they're actually quite drawn to some aspect of their Aspect - like Dave to rap, Karkat to romance, the Knight of Doom probably has some great, earnest fondness for code, or lucid dreaming.

Their arc is one of internal struggle against insecurity, the façade against their true self. At their worst, the Knight of Doom's insistence on shallow, hollow optimism will lead them to ignore their prophetic visions, and all signs of brewing trouble - which the Knight, the party's direct leader, who wields their Aspect like a tool or weapon (and who can, in turn, wield others as such through their Aspect), is uniquely poised to intervene in. A Knight is the steering force of the party, for good or for ill, and a Knight of Doom who ignores all the warnings their Aspect provides will certainly charter a course for disaster.

However, Doom players are uniquely gifted in course correction, and having two dreamselves means they have an extra death to spare. Even if the Knight of Doom fails to steer the party away from trouble, once they're in trouble, the Doom player may just be able to pull them out at the cost of one of their own lives. In general, this ability to course-correct has great synergy with the Knight's role as a leader; if the Knight of Doom is able to overcome their insecurities, and come to terms with their pessimistic nature, they'll be uniquely poised to intervene in any situation before it gets too messy or passes the point of no return - but even if it does, the Knight still might be able to turn it all around. After all, death isn't really the end in Homestuck, and in the realm of the dead, nobody has more sway than the Doom player.

Doom as an Aspect isn't very glamorous, and its associations with pessimism, suffering, and death can even make it seem like the short end of the stick - which I'm sure Doom players would agree with, those negative nancies. But pain is the bricks that build the bridge of empathy, and one can't have joy without sadness. If you never live, you can't die; if you can never die, are you really alive? Finite things are more precious for their finiteness, and all things must eventually come to an end, one way or another; what a Knight of Doom does for the party is ensure that, when they reach that ending, it's a peaceful, satisfying, and restful one - one in which they can look back and go, "that was pretty great."

Also, being able to wield doom and death like a tool or weapon sounds Sick as Hell

[firespirited]

Hackers 1995:

The computer nerdery is terrible (do watch Halt and Catch Fire if you want a history of computers) however the film does start out with social engineering and blind folder browsing using common passwords before it devolves into throwing viruses at a private server to 'overload' it.

The costuming is impeccable early 90s : well-off rebellious girl in rip curl, genderbending grunge, stretch tees for your futuristic cool guys.

Missing the heap of badly rigged computer junk that makes the room overheat and puts wires everywhere. Also missing in action : scraggly facial hair, terrible posture, the huge levels of racism and homophobia (yep, even coded into the programs).

You all were wrong about Matthew Lilliard as Cereal Killer being transfem... that was gangly white boy with postpunk swag in the 90s. There's a cartoon-cat-girl wearing phone hacker in high-waisted-trousers, leopard print and dancer's body language right there. Wild how the codes changed in the mid 90s, like how Barbie's Ken was sporty and bold then seemingly overnight he was gay if he wore a dash of colour with his suit.

The story and pacing weren't bad, the bad guy had period accurate pickup artist clothes and general vibe. The stakes weren't too silly.

It definitely has the pre-2001 optimism that permeated the web before the patriot act and y2k bug conspiracies. I miss that, a sweet spot between cyberpunk, cheap geek jokes and the hackers-as-villains trend.

It's just fun. Lilliard gets the best comedic lines, Miller is doe eyed and baby faced, Jolie gets to kick off her streak of strong female leads with an adorable pixie cut and lots of sporty ocean blues. Nikon appears late, Phreak and Joey are in jail half the movie so they get less attention which is a shame, I really liked their characters.

Highly recommend watching with the pause and rewind button to look at background costume and set designs for the club. Pretty camp, getting camper with time. The type of film to rewatch with company and quote at eachother.

This film was tailor-made for teen me: it would have landed perfectly: the music is spot on, the tech, the fashion, the sense of community and fun.

[theladydame]

Tea For D&D: Horizon's Call Edition!

Horizon's Call is a nautical 5E campaign on Sword & Key. Set in a world that flooded an eon ago, this campaign is full of high seas adventure and sexy pirates! Character art by Mikyl Sandoval. Saturdays 3pm PST. As usual, all tea is from @friday-tea!

First up, everyone's favorite Murder Mermaid, Scarlett Shours! Played by @kayemcea, Siren Storm Sorceror, a former warlock. After a run of terrible patrons, Scarlett has found new love, new purpose, and new power in herself. Tart and spiced were requested.

Introducing: Leo! "Fearless and fiercely individual, worthy of admiration"

Acacia, the centaur rogue/druid. Fiercely loyal and tolerates no bullshit. Carrying the weight of her community on her back, she's looking for something fruity and floral.

Introducing: Happy Place! "Are you longing to return to your favorite tropical place?"

Wynni, the Sea elf artificer/bard. The shining heart of the team. Don't let her optimism fool you, her potions are potent. Notes were light and refreshing, perky.

Introducing: Pisces! "Brilliant strawberry lemonade magicians with sparkly minds and souls"

Proximus, triton paladin/sorceror. If you took the Shape of Water and added a HEALTHY dose of Himbo you would get Proximus. He's still learning what life above the waves is like, but there might be one or two folks who are VERY willing to help. Sweet, salty, seaweed.

Introducing: Cliff by the Sea! "Juicy aquatic daydream"

One of the many amazing NPCs the GM brings to the table this last tea is for Marcus Ash, Fire genasi Swashbuckler. Scarlett's beau and second in command. Very spicy, obvi 😉 He's also the other himbo on the team.

Introducing: Hearthfire! If you're in need of warmth, (or) a toasty friend"

(I'm going to add here that I'm an affiliate for Friday Afternoon Tea, and you can get 10% off any order using the code THELADYDAME, but honestly I'm just someone who really loves tea and super loves supporting this company because Friday and the team are so lovely)

[bi-disaster-kit-herondale]

The Mortal Instruments as Speak Now TV pt. 1/2

this is gonna flop since nobody really talks about tmi anymore, but I love them so much <3

Enchanted: Alec & Magnus (them. the entire song.)

“this is me praying that this was the very first page, not where the storyline ends. my thoughts will echo your name until I see you again. these are the words I held back as I was leaving too soon. I was enchanted to meet you.”

Mine: Jace & Clary

“you said, “I remember how we felt sitting by the water. and every time I look at you it’s like the first time. I fell in love with a careless man’s careful daughter. she is the best thing that’s every been mine. hold on, make it last.”

Ours: Simon & Izzy

“the jury’s out, but my choice is you. so don’t you worry your pretty, little mind. people throw rocks at things that shine. and life makes love look hard. the stakes are high, the water’s rough, but this love is ours.”

Back To December: Magnus & Alec (breakup)

“I watched you laughing from the passenger side and realized I loved you in the fall. and then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept into my mind. you gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye.”

Dear John: Jocelyn & Valentine

“well, maybe it’s me and my blind optimism to blame. or maybe it’s you and your sick need to give love then take it away. and you’ll add my name to your long list of traitors who don’t understand. and I’ll look back and regret how I ignored when they said ‘run as fast as you can’.”

The Story Of Us: Clary & Jace (sibling era 🤪)

“I’d tell you I miss you, but I don’t know how. I never heard silence quite this loud. now I’m standing alone in a crowded room and we’re not speaking. and I’m dying to know is it killing you like it’s killing me? I don’t know what to say since a twist of fate, when it all broke down.”

I Can See You: Izzy & Simon

“what would you do if we never made a sound? cause I can see you waiting down the hall from me. and I could see you up against the wall with me. and what would you do baby, if you only knew.”

Haunted: Maia & Jordan (tbh every verse is like a POV change and a different part of their story)

“something’s made your eyes go cold. come on, come on, don’t leave me like this. I thought I had you figured out. something’s gone terribly wrong, you’re all I wanted.”

When Emma Falls In Love: Izzy

“when emma falls apart it’s when she’s alone, she takes on the pain and bears it on her own. cause when emma falls in love she’s in it for keeps, she won’t walk away unless she knows she absolutely has to leave. and she’s the kind of book that you can’t put down.”

Innocent: Clary (this song is so james & matthew coded but i’ll give it to the other fairchild cuz she’s also been through a lot)

“wasn’t it beautiful runnin’ wild ‘til you fell asleep. before the monsters caught up to you? it’s alright, just wait and see. your string of lights is still bright to me. oh, who you are is not where you’ve been. you’re still an innocent.”

Long Live: Alec & Magnus

“I was screaming long live all the magic we made, and bring on all the pretenders, I’m not afraid. long live all the mountains we moved, I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. and I was screaming long live that look on your face.”

part two!

[empress-of-time1109]

[April special II ]♾️ A Room Full of Ghosts (third page) - “Sweet Addiction” [Kenma Kozume , Tomura Shigaraki]

Part 1-

Part 2-

Part 3-

It’s Not Just a Game, It’s a Coping Mechanism.

The front door creaked open with the theatrical flair of a horror movie sound effect. You stepped inside like a sleep-deprived goblin fresh from school, still half-caffeinated and fully done with existence. Your backpack hit the floor with a tragic thud, like it too had lost its will to live.

The room smelled faintly of instant noodles, lemon-scented floor cleaner, and—oddly—pixelated concentration.

Kenma was already there, on your worn-out chair, hunched over your console like a brooding cryptid. His cat hoodie was up, his fingers danced across buttons like piano keys, and the soft, familiar chime of in-game currency being collected filled the room.

You blinked.

“Kenma?”

He didn’t glance up, didn’t flinch, didn’t even seem surprised you were home.

“Hey,” he murmured, thumbs moving like they were on fire. “Got to level 54 without dying.”

You dropped your phone on the bed, careful not to startle him, as though he were a particularly antisocial woodland creature. “Sorry if I ruined your streak by breathing or something.”

He paused long enough to look at your —just a glance. “You’re fine. Want to join?”

That was Kenma-speak for I like your presence enough to tolerate you during peak grind time, and you took it as a compliment of the highest order.

You flopped down beside him and kicked off your shoes, which promptly landed on top of your ottoman like a pair of retired warriors. “I was gonna play Prince of Persia: The Two Thrones, actually. I need to relive my glory days of wall-running and committing acrobatic war crimes.”

Kenma wordlessly handed you the console. He respected sacred rituals.

The hours blurred.

The sky turned from washed-out optimism to noir dread. At some point, rain began to patter softly against the windows. Kenma was deep into a boss fight, barely blinking, and you were wall-jumping in Two Thrones like your life depended on it—which, emotionally, it kind of did.

There was something holy about these quiet afternoons of unspoken companionship. Not everything needed words. Some days, you just needed someone beside you in a room, both of you mentally AFK from your respective traumas.

You were halfway through a puzzle involving some suspicious levers when you noticed… a hand.

More specifically, a crusty, suspiciously villainous hand hovering near your bowl of cheese puffs.

“You really like dying a lot in this game, huh?” a voice rasped from behind your place on the carpet.

Your soul left your body, did a triple somersault, and returned with a slap.

You turned slowly. Very slowly.

There he was—Tomura Shigaraki.

Behind you wearing his usual villain outfit like it wasn’t wildly out of place, surrounded by empty soda cans and a very confused cat plushie.

Kenma didn’t even blink. “He’s been here for like twenty minutes.”

“Excuse me?” You hissed.

“He said he was waiting for his turn.”

“What do you mean waiting—This isn’t a multiplayer séance!”

Tomura scratched at his neck, eyes lazily watching the game. “You’re terrible at that wall-run section, by the way.”

“It’s hard, okay?” You snapped. “Unlike you, I wasn’t born in a lab with cheat codes for hands.”

Kenma blinked. “Wait, is this the villain with the skin condition?”

“I do not have a skin condition—”

You sighed and paused the game, arms crossed like a sleep-deprived middle manager. “Alright, Tomura, spill it. What are you doing here? And if you say ‘vibes,’ I’m unplugging the router.”

Tomura plopped into the armchair like it owed him rent. “Games. You get it. I figured I’d hang out where people actually respect the grind.”

You blinked. “Wait, I forgot you are addicted too.”

“I don’t call it addiction,” he muttered, picking up your half-eaten snack. “I call it… immersive escapism with occasional god complex validation.”

Kenma hummed. “That sounds like an addiction.”

“That sounds like therapy.” You muttered under your breath.

By hour four, it wasn’t just a game anymore. It was a test of moral strength, spiritual endurance, and wrist integrity.

Tomura had shoved a pillow behind his back, stolen the blanket Kenma had dropped earlier, and was now gripping the controller like it owed him child support. The screen showed the Prince mid-wall-run, but he slipped again.

Dead.

“I swear to Ra, if he faceplants one more time, I’m cursing the royal bloodline.”

“You already look like you came with a free pharaoh’s curse,” You muttered, curled beside him, controller in hand and expression hovering between murderous rage and emotional trauma.

He ignored you. “Why does he jump like he’s made of IKEA wood? My grandmother ’s bones move smoother .”

“Because this game is old. Ancient. Practically fossilized. It was built before humanity discovered graceful mechanics.”

He squinted at the screen. “I’ve seen dying rats with better parkour.”

“You are a dying rat, don’t insult my favourite game. Only I get to do that,” You quipped.

Tomura was unbothered. He was laser-focused, halfway into the game like his soul had made a digital pact with the device. “Hand me the chips.”

You tossed them at his face. “You’re getting crumbs in your villain hoodie.”

“It adds texture.”

“Texture doesn’t mean Dorito fallout.”

They passed the controller back and forth like a sacred relic. He raged. You screamed. They both shouted at the television like it had personally betrayed their families.

“Oh my God, the Dark Prince again?!” You shrieked as black sand consumed the character.

“Let me guess,” Tomura said, deadpan. “Time for more angst and internal monologue.”

“’The sands have taken more than time… they have taken my soul…’” You mocked in a low, brooding voice. “Please. Somebody get my prince a therapist and a sturdy pair of boots.”

Tomura nodded solemnly. “He and I are not so different.”

“You have a hand problem. He has a personality split. Get your own trauma.”

He huffed and resumed gameplay. “Whatever. I like this part. It’s like watching my own descent into madness but with better hair.”

The addiction had crept in quietly. At first, it was an hour. Maybe two. A little digital escapism, a sprinkle of sarcasm, a lot of insults.

But now?

They were invested. Every boss fight felt like a war. Every cutscene was practically Shakespearean. When they reached the chariot race sequence, You screamed so loud the neighbors probably thought someone was being murdered by a medieval horse.

“WHY DOES THIS SEGMENT EXIST?!” You cried, violently steering the chariot and crashing for the sixth time. “WHO THOUGHT THIS WAS FUN?!”

Tomura was doubled over laughing, absolutely useless. “You drive like you were raised in a sandstorm.”

“I was raised in a sandstorm—called life!”

Despite the chaos, the mood softened somewhere around hour ten.

The palace garden sequence loaded, soft music drifting in from the console. The atmosphere changed. For a moment, the stress dissolved into something quieter. Something close to… contentment.

You looked over and saw him leaning back, his fingers briefly still.

“You ever thought about how beautiful this is?” You asked.

He didn’t answer at first. Just watched the vines sway pixel by pixel on the ancient screen.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Even the doomed stuff’s got beauty in it. Like it knows it’s temporary, so it tries harder.”

You blinked.

That wasn’t even sarcastic.

“Wow,” You said, clutching your heart. “Look who’s growing feelings like a fungus.”

He grinned. “Shut up before I break your save file.”

But the high came with a low.

You felt it creeping in—behind the laughter, beneath the controller grips, in the tension that never left your jaw. This wasn’t just entertainment. It was a tether. A lifeline made of pixels and key commands. You played not to win but to breathe. To feel something that wasn’t panic or nothingness.

Tomura knew it too.

He’d stopped cracking jokes by hour six. Just stared at the screen, like he could fall into it if he blinked long enough.

“You ever feel like the game’s safer than real life?” he asked quietly.

“All the time,” You answered, too fast. “At least there, I know the rules.”

“At least there,” he said, “you respawn.”

They didn’t speak after that. The silence was filled with the sound of sand and swords, and their own unspoken desperation.

It was past 2 a.m. when you finally saved the game and took a break. Your hands were cramped. His eyes were bloodshot.  Neither of you moved to turn it off.

Addiction wasn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it was just two people clutching plastic, because it hurt less than holding onto reality.

Still, there was warmth in it.

Kinship.

A strange, gothic, popcorn-scented friendship built on trauma and cheat codes.

Eventually, You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“You smell like expired energy drinks,” You murmured.

“You smell like insomnia and unresolved issues,” he replied.

You smiled.

You both sat there in the soft flicker of the TV, exhausted, but for once… okay.

Tomorrow, they could fall apart.

Tonight, they could just… play.

The palace garden sequence loaded, soft music drifting in from the console. The atmosphere shifted. Gone were the manic sprints and bone-grinding wall runs; in their place: hurled strings, golden light filtering through ruined arches, and vines that swayed like the ghosts of forgotten royalty.

You didn’t speak for a long time.

Because this—this part—meant something.

You've played this trilogy since you were old enough to understand the words “press X to continue.” The Sands of Time, Warrior Within, and The Two Thrones weren’t just games. They were memories burned in the corners of your brain like an old photo album made of glitchy shadows and monologues.

“I really love this trilogy,” You said softly, more to yourself than to Shigaraki. “Like. Stupidly love it.”

He glanced at you, still slouched under Kenma’s blanket, fingers curled around a nearly empty chip bag. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I played this first time when I was like, in middle school. Hide it from my mom because I wasn’t supposed to have violent games. Which is hilarious, because this is, like, tame compared to reality now.”

Tomura hummed, watching you more than the game now.

You hugged the controller to your chest. “I remember thinking: ‘If I could just be in this world—even the scary, cursed, sand-infected version—I’d be okay.’ Like, I could wall-run out of school, time-rewind out of awkward conversations, stab my way through the algebra curriculum.”

He snorted. “That’s… painfully on brand for you.”

“It’s escapism with eyeliner and sword flips.” You smiled faintly. “It made me believe I could outrun anything. Even myself.”

Tomura looked at the screen, at the animated Prince resting briefly in his journey. “So. You still wanna be in it?”

“Honestly? Yeah. Even now. Especially now.”

There was a strange understanding in his silence—like he, too, had played a game once that felt more like home than the four walls around him.

“Then let’s finish it,” he said. “One more time.”

Three more hours, two bowls of ramen, and Kenma’s own truly unhinged Mario Kart session later, the room was a disaster zone of discarded controllers, banter, and soft jazz that no one remembered turning on.

You were curled up on the carpet now, blanket over your shoulders like a depressed burrito. Kenma had fallen asleep mid-load screen. Tomura, for all his villainous flair, was currently arguing with you about why RPG villains had better fashion than heroes.

“All I’m saying,” he said, finishing your soda, “is if I’m going to monologue about the futility of human life, I should at least be doing it in a floor-length cape.”

“You already do that,” You said dryly.

“Exactly. And now I want Kenma’s hoodie too.”

“He’ll bite.”

“I’m into it.”

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly reset your optic nerves.

It was absurd. Completely absurd.

And yet, for the first time in days, You weren't thinking about how your chest sometimes felt like it had a black hole instead of a heart, or how assignments were piling up like unpaid emotional rent. Here, with a quiet gamer, a chaotic villain, and your favorite broken PS2-era disc, You remembered what it felt like to just… exist.

Not as someone high-functioning. Not as someone managing. Just someone being.

As the sky threatened to break into dawn and Kenma softly snored, you turned to Tomura.

“Do you think it’s bad?” You asked.

“What?”

“This. The games. How much I rely on them.”

He looked at your —really looked—and for a second, there wasn’t a punchline on his lips.

“Addiction’s just a place you go when everything else gets too loud,” he said simply. “The trick isn’t leaving the place. It’s knowing when to come back.”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Eventually, Tomura stood, stretched like a villain late for his next existential crisis, and walked to the window.

“You’ll see me again,” he said. 

And then—just like that—he was gone.

No poof. No dramatic exit. Just a faint whiff of regret and corn chips.

You blinked at the empty window, blanket still wrapped around you, heart still full of glitchy joy.

Kenma mumbled something about saving files in his sleep.

You picked up the controller again.

And hit “continue”.

It was already 6 a.m. when you finally peeled yourself off the carpet like a leftover sticker and staggered toward your bed. Your limbs were rubber. Your brain was soup. Your eyes were screaming in Morse code.

“I’m dying,” You declared, faceplanting into the mattress with all the grace of a soggy pancake.

Kenma groaned like a raccoon in a trash throne. “You can’t just quit after the Dahaka chase. That’s criminal. That’s—”

“—that’s my corneas revolting,” You mumbled into a pillow. “I love you. I love this game. I love that dumb cursed dagger. But if I don’t sleep now, I’ll ascend. Or explode.”

“Fine,” he grunted. “Sleep. I'll glare at the loading screen like a disappointed father .”

You gave him a lazy thumbs-up before letting your arm drop like a dying Victorian heiress. Somewhere in the background, the menu theme played its haunting notes again and again, like a lullaby made of sands and regret.

Your alarm rang. You had forgotten to switch it off for the weekend.

You groaned like the undead and reached over to grab it, blinking blearily at the screen. 

“You alive?” Kenma’s voice dragged your attention back to him as you put away your phone.

“Barely. You?”

“Yeah. Oh right, Kuroo told me to tell you he misses you.”

Your eyes blinked open slowly, caught between exhaustion and confusion.

“Oh,” You said. Then, “…that’s random.”

“Yeah. Also—his words, not mine—‘Why the hell did Oikawa get solo attention and sketchbook space while I’m stuck relaying messages to Kenma like he’s some emo pigeon?’”

You laughed. A real laugh, despite everything. “Tell him Oikawa broke into my room with dramatic flair. If he wants special treatment, he better come armed with roses and emotional manipulation.”

Kenma snorted. “Noted.”

You rubbed your face, still smiling, and let your hand slide down to cover your eyes. Just five seconds. You just needed to close them for five—

Silence.

Stillness.

Then—something odd.

A shift in the air, a cold spot. The kind of hush that usually comes after the chaos. You opened your eyes slowly, hand falling to your side.

The room was empty.

The chair? Vacant. No sign of a lazy villain with gamer rage issues. No trace of half-eaten chips or grumbling curses.

And Kenma’s Switch dock was still humming, but-

No Shigaraki.

No Kenma.

No extra warmth where someone had just been sitting.

Gone.

Just like that.

You sat up slowly, heart doing a weird little drum solo against your ribs.

“…Okay,” You whispered. “That’s not weird at all.”

You glanced around the room. Still smelled like processed cheese snacks and pixelated dreams. But the vibe had changed—like you’d woken from a fever dream and wasn’t sure if you were still dreaming.

You looked toward the desk. The Prince of Persia disc case sat open, like a shrine. your sketchbook was still there, with yesterday’s class’s messy doodles of Shigaraki and Kenma.

Your stomach twisted in a way you didn’t quite understand.

Maybe the meds were working.

Or maybe… maybe not.

You lay back down, one arm flopped over your eyes again.

“I really need to label my reality better,” You muttered.

But the corner of your mouth twitched into a tired smile anyway.

Even if they’d vanished like ghosts at sunrise for now, they’d been there.

And maybe—just maybe—they’d be back. After all, the loading screen was still glowing in the dark.

[siascrawls]

Incoming random rant in regards to current AAA gaming industry.

There is absolutely no reason that you should have to be connected to the internet for a single player game EVER.

This seems obvious to most of us, right? But the companies are getting "sneakier".

Every single player game that the company tries to force to be online gets huge blowback. So what do they do? Well, if the fundamental part of any game has to have internet connection to work, then the customers will just put up with it, right?

What fundamental part could that be? Well, the fucking textures! Can't have a game without the textures, right?

The upcoming Call of Duty game boasts all new tech that requires you "stream" the testures. Speaking as someone who makes video games, there is absolutely no reason why you'd need to stream textures. You want to see your characters hands show damage and grease as the game progresses? Guess what! You can already do that by pinging a line of code to pull a pre existing texture! Textures don't take that much space. Or they shouldn't if you're doing even the barest minimum of optimization. Then again, it seems that has also been thrown in the ditch as well.

Not only is the game over 300 gigs, but apparently that's not enough space for fingernail grime. Look, I don't play CoD (i'm terrible at fps), but 1. It's incredibly insulting. And 2. Other companies immediately will do this too if they get away with it.

Not only are companies forcibly killing physical media so they can make you repurchase or subscribe again and again, but making you stay connected always allows them to monitor your data to sell AND if they chose not to support the texture stream shit anymore, your game is gone.

This whole thing is infuriating so much. The only positive is the thriving and vibrant indie industry. Support your indie games. They are the only thing keeping these corporations from holding an iron grip on the future of gaming.

[jadagul]

would you recommend, to a fairly smart undergrad, trying to go into math academia? was it worth it?

My most generic advice is no, do not go into any sort of academia, it is a terrible fucking job market.

Like I enjoy being an academic, quite a lot. But (1) I got pretty lucky with my jobs, and (2) the job fits me really well. (I deeply, desperately love teaching.) But I'm continually aware that I could almost certainly double my income, possibly with less time spent on the job, if I weren't doing the academia thing.

Basically I'd say you should only try to go into academia if you can't imagine doing anything else with your life—if either the research, or the being on campus, are super important and fulfilling to you in a way that covers for the other problems. And even then you have to be aware that you might not make it, for reasons that are no fault of your own.

That said, I'm going to be somewhat less pessimistic about grad school, as long, as you go in with and maintain that attitude. Grad school is generally not, like, financially optimal, but if you go in with an eye to keeping non-academic career paths open it can be really rewarding.

(One of my mistakes was committing so hard to pure math that I didn't develop any concrete job skills in grad school. If I'd done something that developed a coding portfolio, or a stats/data analysis skillset, or a modeling skillset, I would have had a lot more options on the job market. It's a good thing I like teaching so much.)

[vex03]

despite everything, i’m really hopeful about how things will be after this whole specific health situation has been dealt with. at current i sleep 16+ hours a day. it’s absolutely debilitating- but there’s a good possibility that the thing they found in my head? on accident?? is what’s been causing me absolute mortal anguish for the past 4 years??? and treating it will get rid of those problems???? how lucky am i truly :))

i want to be strong. i want to have the energy to follow through with my ideas. i have so much brewing in my head. things to knit, rugs to tuft, streams to.. stream? idk. the “content” of it all has become increasingly unappealing. i just want to make interesting and probably entertaining things that people enjoy. i have so many youtube video ideas… at the very least i should go ahead start vlogging and edit it all super cool- despite the fact i don’t really enjoy editing at all anymore, i’m still good at it and i’ll be as cocky as i fucking want about that >:) also it would be sooooooo dramatic to start vlogging before i have more solid info about Her (this is how i have just decided i will permanently refer to ms. tumor. deal with it please) and then get to drop a video in a month called “serious announcement.” or some shit… ohhh the drama.. oh the intrigue…… like hey man if this shit is gonna make me suffer, i’m gonna fuckin capitalize on it. i got a brain tumor. use code saucy for 10% off your gamersupps purchases at gamersupps.gg/saucy . optimization motherfucker.

anyways, i have a wonderful support system that is helping me have a really lovely time from now thru the next mri- we got Capital F Fucked up tonight. i am nervous and anticipating feeling positively terrible after that imaging because i suffered after the previous one, and the screenings after that will inevitably make things even worse. and then after those, who knows how they’re going to actually treat it… but truly i’ve survived this long, what’s a couple terrible final weeks to top it all off before fatigue free bliss?

i started publishing my thoughts again here (hashtag girlblogging) to try and overcome some creative blockages, and i wanted to keep things as meta as possible… but it’s so eye opening how much something the size of a blueberry being where it shouldn’t be has changed my outlook on things so quickly.

can’t wait to have more energy soon, i have so much to make

e