#and useless science facts everyone already knows

[of-many-aus]

Why Jake calls you ‘Angel’

Summary: there’s always an origin story to a nickname, this one is yours

Warnings: none

A/N: let me know what you think of this series so far :)

Take Me Out to the Ball Game Masterlist

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

This was stupid. You had no idea why you had even let Natasha talk you into this, she knew this wasn’t your thing.

The noise was deafening with everyone screaming at the top of their lungs. Cheers and boos for this team or that.

Bodies rammed into one another as they jumped up and down, supporting their respective teams that were made up of either a sky blue, or a crimson red.

“You have to get to know him,” Nat chatted your ear off above all the yells, keeping your arms linked tightly as you wove back and forth in the crowd, “He’s your roommate, and you hardly know a thing about him.”

“Yeah,” You snapped back, shooting her a small glare, “Maybe he’s a serial killer. How does that feel, Nat? You could very well be the person who pressured me into accepting a living situation with a murderer.”

She rolled her eyes, long since used to your dramatic antics, “A cute murderer.” Your best friend flashed you a grin.

You rolled your eyes sarcastically, “Well, what he lacks in personality, I suppose he makes up for in looks.”

“Exactly!” She cheered, finally pushing through a clearing and towards seemingly the only two empty seats in the whole stadium, not giving you the chance to open your mouth and snap back about being sarcastic. She knew very well that you were.

It had been about two weeks since you and the star of your college's baseball team, Jake Seresin, had made a temporary arrangement of moving into an apartment together. And the two of you had been walking on eggshells around each other, which Natasha Trace never failed to throw in your face.

Honestly, you were more than fine keeping it that way. The less you were forced to talk to the cocky, ego driven athlete, the better.

Your best friend, on the other hand, seemed to think that it was fate that the two of you were thrown into the same living establishment. And apparently, it was an opportunity not to be passed up. Now, you had been dragged to his team's second game of the season. Evidently, missing his first one was some sort of crime in Natasha’s eyes and you now had to make up for it.

What did it matter anyway? He didn’t even know that you were here, and honestly, you hoped that it stayed that way. You didn’t need him thinking something other than the simple fact that you were dragged here, fighting tooth and nail to get away. But it was useless, Nat was impossible to stop when she put her mind to something.

Of course, the only seats available had to be in the very front row, just to the right of home plate.

The game had already started by the time you two sat down, and Jake's team was getting absolutely demolished.

No wonder all the other spectators were getting rowdy so quickly. Your school was trying to urge the team into coming back, and the other school was trying to keep their team up. The score was 1-6 and it was only the second inning.

Jakes team was up at bat, more specifically, a man you recognized to be Reuben Fitch, who was in your science class, at the plate, bat up and at the ready. According to the scoreboard, there was already one out, two pitches thrown, and nobody on the bases.

The pitcher from the other team glared against the sun as he wound his arm back, ready to release the ball. And when he so, it hooked in such a way that poor Reuben didn’t stand a chance of hitting it.

You felt a pang of pity in your heart for him, he had always been friendly to you, and watching his lips move in the shape of a curse and shaking his head in disappointment at himself made you sad to see. He made his way back to the dug out with a head hung low, not even reacting when Pete Mitchell, the coach, clapped him on the back in reassurance when he shuffled past him.

A frown pulled at your lips, “This is just sad,” You commented, “You picked the absolute worst day to force me to come and see a game.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to rebuttal, only to snap it shut when her eyes locked onto something behind you. A smirk slowly made its way onto her face, “Or maybe not.”

With furrowed eyebrows, you turned in your seat to see what she was looking at, only to lock eyes on a jersey you had grown accustomed to seeing thrown lazily around your apartment- along with other pieces of gear he never bothered to pick up- making it’s way towards you.

Jake was up at bat.

There was a determined aura about him, you could tell from the way his eyes stayed trained on the pitchers mound and from the way his jaw was set and shoulders were in a ridged square.

High pitched squeals erupted from behind you in a way that made you cringe at the sudden noise.

“It’s Jake!”

“He looks so hot.”

“He was totally checking me out earlier.”

You rolled your eyes at the group of girls behind you, babbling like a bunch of teenagers at the mall, and crossed your arms over your chest.

Natasha was looking over at you with a smirk that had morphed into a knowing one.

“What?” You snapped.

Her grin only widened, “Nothing, nothing.” She murmured, turning her attention back to the game.

After allowing your eyes to linger suspiciously on her for another moment, you tore them away from her and too looked to where Jake was now winding up to bat.

The pitcher threw the next one faster than he had moments ago, and it headed straight for the blond man.

Your heart jumped to your throat and your arms unconsciously loosened, falling to your sides as you leaned forward.

Jake jumped backwards out of the way just in time, the ball narrowly missing his stomach in the process.

Shouts of protest came from all over the stadium, cursing out the pitcher for trying to take out the star player.

A breath slipped through your lips and you felt the muscles in your shoulders loosen. Why they were even tense in the first place, you didn’t know.

Seresin let out a huff, taking a step back from the plate to give himself a moment to collect himself, and his gaze unconsciously swept over the crowd.

Bright green eyes locked onto yours before you could even think about looking away and trying to hide yourself.

Jake stilled.

All of the sounds seemed to drown out around you. Neither of you let up your stares, no matter how much as you knew you should.

Then, the corner of his lips quirked up the tiniest bit, and he threw a wink in your direction before turning back to the plate and stepping up once more.

One of the girls squealed from behind you, “Did you see that? Did you? Did you? He winked at me!”

You barely even heard her, eyes still yet to leave Jakes tall form.

“What was that all about?” You could hear the grin in her voice as Natasha whispered to you.

Not an answer came out of you though. You were too transfixed in the game.

When the ball came at him again, he was ready, and he hit it out of the park. Literally.

Again, it seemed like almost every person in the stadium began screaming at the top of their lungs. Whether it was from anger or pure joy at the home run the man had just hit.

Somehow, you had joined in with them, clapping as loudly as you could and cheering.

Jake threw one glance to you over his shoulder before taking a jog around the bases, a grin of victory playing on his lips.

It only went uphill from there.

Somehow, when put in the outfield, every single ball went Jake's way, and he caught each and every one of them. Then each time he came up to bat, he would get at least one other person home.

There was a reason he was the star player.

By the end, the score was 12-6, and your throat was raw from all the screaming you had done, as well as most likely every other person in the audience.

“Well?” You finally tore your eyes away from the field at your best friend's voice, “Worth coming?”

You hid a grin and tried to shrug nonchalantly, “I suppose.”

She laughed loudly, linking your arms together and beginning to lead you into the slowly dispersing crowd.

The two of you chatted all the way back to the row of cars, when a voice calling out your name made you both stop and turn.

Jake jogged after the two of you, baseball gear bag slung over one shoulder.

The group of girls that had been obnoxious behind you for the entire game now stood a few yards away with dropped jaws that soon turned into sneers.

Your roommate paid them no mind though, as he came to a stop in front of you, slightly breathless as if he had run all the way from the dugout to catch up with you.

“Hi,” You breathed out in surprise, eyebrows raised.

He grinned that blinding, award winning smile of his, “You came to my game.”

“Oh yeah,” Natasha piped up, nodding excitedly from beside you, “She practically dragged me here.”

Your head snapped into her direction and your eyes widened for a brief second before you began glaring daggers at her, “I did not-“

“I’m glad you came.”

The gentleness of his tone made your mouth snap shut and your attention turn to him once more.

“We were losing, bad, but then you showed up, and we suddenly won again.” He was yet to drop his grin.

You shook your head, “That wasn’t me-“

“Sure it was,” He laughed lightly, “You’re like my own guardian angel.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t call me that.”

If it was even possible, his grin seemed to widen, “Why not? I think it’s fitting.”

A scoff left your lips, and whatever weird haze you had been in during the game finally shook off, “Don’t you dare.” You warned.

“Hangman!” Bradley Bradshaw called from a couple paces away, waving the man down, “Come on! The boys are going out to celebrate!”

“Be right there!” The blond called back before winking at you once more, “See you at home, Angel.”

With that, he jogged off, leaving you in a speechless state that was so unlike you.

Nat moved to stand in front of you, wiggling her eyebrows.

You hesitated before softly shoving her, “Shut up.” You mumbled, turning to make your way to the car.

Taglist: none yet

[julianalvarez9]

thunderstorms / martin ødegaard

author's note: OMG THIS GIF????? dead. i'm in love. anyways, here it is. the tittle's pretty self explanatory, but had this idea once i realised i'm not the biggest fan of thunderstorms. not the best i've ever written buuuut it's fluff and 2 idiots in love who think it's unrequited when it's not so it's good for my heart. anywayssssss too much talking.

summary: you never quite liked thunderstorms -not as a child and, surprisingly, not now either. it hadn't been a problem until you moved out of your parent's house, living with martin now, who didn't really know about your secret.

wc: 1.5 k. words.

you knew that, being a twenty-something woman, you should have grown out of your fear of thunderstorms: everyone had it, at some point in their life, but it quickly had faded away: long forgotten or just outgrown it. except, unfortunately, you hadn't.

having recently moved in with martin, your best friend, you hadn't found a reason to tell him. you knew it was stupid anyways, and with how often he was away, if any storms was to break out suddenly you could just turn the music up, like you did when you lived with your parents, and hope it ends sooner than later. basically, it hadn't appeared to be a problem. at least, not until now.

when you woke up today, and checked the weather app -like you always did before going to work-, you saw the little icon signaling a thunderstorm coming later today. but being as stubborn as you were, you didn't want to believe it. your mother always used to say that the weather wasn't an exact science, and a gush of wind could turn the whole calculations on their feet. but, even if you wanted to believe your mother, you knew that sooner or later you luck would run out.

you had arrived a couple of hours ago, having made dinner and quietly gone back up to your room, expecting the inevitable to happen. you had heard martin come in too, not too long after you. but you knew he might be tired from training, and you didn't want to bother him too much.

it had been pouring down for almost 30 minutes now, the noise cancelling earphones turning to be useless while the vibrations from the thunder seemed to creep under your bones. you knew annoying martin with such childish concerns wouldn't make anything better -hell, he couldn't call down the thunderstorm, no matter what he did-, but anyways, you found yourself right at his door, knuckle hitting slowly the wood to draw his attention. maybe, if you were lucky, he would already be asleep.

"martin, hi," was the first thing you said when the door opened and you saw his broad frame. he was in sweatpants and no shirt, and you had to focus really hard not to look at him too long. his disheveled hair made you aware that he was, in fact, sleeping, and you only felt dumber about it. "sorry to wake you up".

"hey, no. wasn't asleep yet", he lied, voice still hoarse while smiling tiredly. "everything okay?".

almost on cue, a thunder struck, making you jump involuntarily and prompting martin to extend his arms towards you. "y/n, are you okay?", he asked, palms softly going up and down your arm, trying to calm you down. "it might sound kinda silly but i-i'm afraid of thunderstorms," you confessed, cheeks heating up under his attentive piercing blue stare. stumbling onto his words, probably due to the sleep that still clouded his brain. not that he would ever admit to you that yeah, he was awoken by your presence. "you can sleep here if that'll make you feel better". he quietly added, overthinking whether he had sounded too forward. "i mean, if you want?".

the little laugh that emanated from you not only eased his worries, but it warmed up his heart, like it always did. you shyly got into the room, with martin closing the door softly behind your frame. the room, even dark as it was, still could be recognised as his: his fragrance intoxicating in the best way.

"you know you can get closer, right?”. martin is the first one to speak once you’ve settled under the covers. you didn’t want to annoy him, again, so you had resolved to sleep as far away from his body as possible. “you’ll fall and hurt yourself, y/n.”

"you're already doing too much. i don't want to bother you any further".

he chuckled at your reasoning. "nonsense. come on, come closer".

martin extended his arms, fingertips just barely touching the skin of your shoulders. he did it softly, force just enough to turn you from your side to your back, facing the ceiling now. he smiled involuntarily at the sight, your features softly illuminated by the light coming from the outside, before swiftly turning to face him. you never liked to sleep on your back.

the storm was still going as strong as before, but now, you had something else to focus on. or someone. being this close was already dangerous enough, you thought. his body heat radiating, reminding you that he was very much there didn’t help, either, and the effects were worse than you could have anticipated. you doubted what was worse: facing the night scared for the thunderstorm, or for fucking it all up now, with martin so close to you.

what you didn't know was that martin was struggling just as much.

even if he didn't know, he was slowly but surely falling in love with you. it had started as a silly crush, really, even before asking you to live with him. he hadn't done it with any ulterior motives: he knew you needed a place to stay, and being good friends for quite some time it wouldn’t be such a crazy idea to propose you to live with him. i’m not even there half of the time, he assured: and he was right. what he couldn’t forewarn was how he would react when the two of you were under the same roof. the domesticity of it all is what lulled him in in the end: how easy you seemed to fit into his life, -not that he asked it from you-, how cute you looked when you were making coffee for the both of you, how your hair rested softly on your shoulder, messy bed hair adorning your beautiful face.

the daydreaming, more like nightdreaming? had gone so far in martin's head that he hadn't noticed the little "i love you" that fell from his lips, breathy and almost inaudible. if it was muttered five seconds after, you would have been deeply asleep, lulled by the way martin was playing with your hair, fingers treading on the streaks. the confession would have slipped past you if you weren’t on the verge of consciousness, the norwegian’s voice being the silver string that brought you back. "what?".

"god, you scared me”, he said, bringing a hand to rest on his beating heart. “thought you were asleep". you asked, again, now eyes wide open, trying to get even the smallest glimpse of his face. "what did you say?".

"i don't really know. maybe i talk in my sleep and i didn’t know until now,” he jokes, and although you're quite disappointed about it, you give the benefit of the doubt. "oh. okay."

you know it’s dumb, really. you hadn't even heard him clearly to begin with, but the possibility of hearing your roommate say “i love you” had made your stomach turn slightly, and now, instead, you couldn’t help but feel kinda disappointed, even if you reprimanded yourself for even thinking about it. he was giving you so much already, what more could you possibly want?

but if martin ødegaard prided himself for something, was being perceptive. he knew how to recognise patterns, sense if something had changed in the behavior of one of his teammates that could hint at any problems that needed fixing inside the squad: that’s why he was captain, both at arsenal and his national team. and due to this, he could sense how your tone dropped, seemingly disappointed at his vague answer. yeah, he was in too deep, but he realized what he had said.

"hypothetically speaking, if i had said something, what would you think about it?".

"depending on what you said”.

he had continued playing with your hair all throughout the interaction, but getting closer to the strands that adorned your face now. "tell me what you've heard," martin insisted with a mischievous tone. "that you loved me,” you whispered, questioning tone at the end of the sentence and quickly shifting your gaze into his eyes away, involuntarily falling at his lips. you saw the smirk that played on his face before he said "yeah, wasn't such a surprise, wasn’t it?" and slipped his calloused hand towards your neck, slowly caressing your jaw with his thumb.

“stop,” you giggled, flustered at his latest actions. turning to hide your face in the pillow, he still could hear your accusation, although rather muffled. “you’re lying to make me forget about the stupid storm outside”. he tipped your head back, slowly, making you face him again. his bright blue eyes had shifted to your lips now. “could tell you exactly the same thing tomorrow, over breakfast, when the sun's out", he reassures, nose touching your own lovingly. "you like your eggs scrambled, don’t you?” martin asked, not that he needed your confirmation to know: he had watched you enough to know what you liked to have in the mornings.

“and you like your coffee way too strong”.

[thestobingirlie]

Instead of all these fics where everyone else moves on and is incredibly good and successful in what they do and they're all at the top of their fields of work. But Steve is just Steve.

I want everyone moving on to college or trying to make it, and realizing that they're a dime a dozen. That there are so many other students who want to be a journalist. So many other wannabe rockstars that play in shitty bars. So many other language nerds. So many other photographers. So many other science and AV nerds. They may get a job in their field, but they don't instantly become massive success. They're the everyday workers in the field. They have to come to terms with the fact that what made them special or different in Hawkins isn't a big deal in the wider world.

And Steve is the only one who actually gets his dream, he settles down and married someone and they have a bunch of kids and he is basically dad of the year all the time.

i think this whole ‘everyone but steve is famous’ thing is actually really sad. and not just because he’s my favourite character, but because it really just exemplifies the way people in the fandom look down on others.

steve’s going nowhere because he works a minimum wage job. he’s already failed at life because he didn’t get into college. his dreams are disregarded because all he wants is a family. he doesn’t have a dream career, so obviously his life is just… useless.

it’s gross imo.

but anyway!! yeah. they always have the jobs they dreamed about as a child, they’re always world renown even if that doesn’t make sense (most people don’t know the name of a random photographer).

also, not directly relevant, but most of these kids aren’t getting all the way through college lmao. nancy is having a first year freak out for sure.

anyway again. steve dad of the year ❤️❤️😭😭🥺🥺🥰🥰 i know he loves his kiddos so much, and they love him back. he dedicates his life to making them happy. he’s finally getting all the love he missed out on.

[spidereggs888]

MIGUEL IMPREGNATES EVERYONE IN A 69 FT RADIUS!

🤰🫄🫃🕷

/j 💀

Miguel and You

Miguel O’Hara & y/n, any gender or non gender. Very casual writing style. TW Dark humor, dangerous situations, 18+. Y/n are sorta attracted to Miguel (why else would you be here?) but he doesn’t know you lol

ACT 2 | BLACK MARKET DEMONS

This has a drawing

If you haven’t read ACT 1, click this

•°《🕷》°•

You can’t remember how much time has passed or what you were doing. Those freaky eyes fade from your vision, and now you can barely see your own legs and shoes. It’s dark. Horror movie dark. You hear a scuffling sound from nearby. This so feels like a b-horror where the main character keeps surviving somehow. You hope this is the case.

“Dis shit’s useless!”

As your vision returns, you squint to the side and see someone’s back to you, crouching on the ground with a laptop. You assume it’s the guy who led you down here, but who the hell is he? And how does he know you?

You check your surroundings without moving your head too much in the hopes you’ll find a clue. You appear to be under the maintenance level of Nueva York, since there’s pipes all around the walls, all filled with the deafening roar of ocean water. This is far below your home level, down in the bottom where Nueva York was called New York. The place stinks of rot that would have made you gag if you weren’t already used to the dumpster near your apartment cube.

Through all the steam hissing you hear the familiar clinking sound of your data sticks.

“Fiddy grand here…. Four dere… not enough…”

This fucker is probing through your savings! It’s not much to him but you need it for your bills!

“Oh shock it!” He grumbles. You see his head turn, so you immediately return to your hypnotized pose. You can hear him clamber over and lean in close. His breath stinks of rationed mineral chips, food people buy when they are facing starvation. Alchemax wanted to save face in the public eye years ago, so they made those nasty mineral bars to fight starvation. You made it a point to never eat them since Speshall told you what’s in them. You feel bad for this black market demon. He’s probably also down on his luck despite his skill set.

You don’t feel sorry for him for long. He briefly presses something metal against your ear, and with a click sound he administers a sharp jab. You flinch but try to remain in a fake stupor. He rubs something against the wound, and you feel warm blood trickle down your lobe. He Sméagol-crawls away to his laptop light and you carefully squint his way again. You can’t see what he’s doing but you hear the clinking of glass.

You finally recall his voice again. He was following you after you parked your car before going in for the O’Hara interview. He must have been trying to snatch you up in broad daylight, because that’s how fast the black market demons are.

“No illnesses… a lil’ iron deficiency but dat can be overlooked…”

Oh fuckin hell, he intends to sell your organs.

You move your hands and see they are taped together. Your pants are stapled together (who the hell even does that?!) and you are stuck on your bum. You raise your gaze ahead of you and see a man in the same pose as you, except he doesn’t look well at all. In fact, there’s a dark pool at his stomach and his pants are drenched.

Holy shit!

You nope the fuck out of there and the demon hears you. He slams down his little science project and chases after you. Your pants are ripped from resisting the staples. You dash down the dark alley of tubes and pipes. He almost grabs you but he is hit with steam.

“Augh my fuckin eyes!”

You keep running. You can feel a cool breeze coming from somewhere. You have to get to the street. You have to get away. You left your data sticks behind but so what?! He’s AFTER you!

“DON’T LET ‘EM GET AWAY!” he screams.

Multiple freaky masks and eyes appear in the darkness! More demons! They are clambering out of their dwellings. You run past one of them flaying a body under a red light. You don’t stop to investigate, you keep running. The air smells even more rotten this way, a blend of ocean water and dead bodies. You keep running, your legs burning. Damn the sedimentary lifestyle of your office job. You are out of shape and trying to run for your life.

More creepypasta masks appear from the dark. You stare straight ahead. You can’t look at them. They mean to stop you. They mean to tear you apart. One grabs your scarf and you spin out of it. One grabs your jacket and you slip from the silk sleeves. Your lungs are on fire. You escape between stacks of broken monitors, shoving them behind you to slow down your assailants, but you are getting slower, too. Your path is getting wider, but also darker. There’s very little light here.

You stop at a completely dead and dark end. You can’t see anything in front of your face. You try to quiet your ragged breaths. You can hear the demons getting closer, but if you run more, you risk crashing into something you can't see.

“Turn around!” the demon demands.

You do nothing except stare bug-eyed into the darkness.

“Turn AROUND! Are ya deaf?!”

The vast darkness is barely illuminated by all the masks that strobe behind you. You can see a ledge before you, with nothing visible down below. What a drop off!

“LOOK AT ME!”

He grabs your shoulder and turns you to face him. He’s even closer now, his weird eyes pulsating black and white.

“Das right… look into my eyes…”

You feel your senses numb again. Your mind goes foggy. Maybe it was better to jump than face the horrors of the demons who will tear you apart. Then you hear someone else moving in the dark.

“Found you.”

Your demon is grabbed by the neck. Near him a whole illuminated bodysuit of a man materializes from the darkness. Bright red designs light up his massive chest and shoulders, and his mask has abstract eye marks that emote into a scowl as he tightens his grip on the demon’s neck. You feel as if you are trapped in the deep ocean where no light reaches the floor and you are witnessing one of its denizens about to be devoured by an even bigger one.

A giant red palm pushes you away onto the ground. You crumple down and watch the demon being raised off his feet like a rag. He is gasping for air and thrashing his pathetic legs around.

“You guys wanna see something?”

The mask of the larger man vanishes, but you can’t see many features with the strobe light of the demon’s copypasta mask. What you can make out are a set of terrifying fangs, a gaping maw opening unnaturally wide at the demon who makes a strangled shriek. You hear a nasty chomp sound, like someone taking a bite into a roll of hamburger meat! The demon kicks his legs helplessly, which looks even more horrible in the strobe light. The other demons bolt, and you instinctively lay down as they dash around you for their own escape. You try to ignore the icky gasping sounds. You hear a low, deep chested hum of satisfaction from the bigger predator. You try not to look, but you hear no more sputtering and kicking.

It’s over. The attack is over and the demon is not moving. Even his mask’s light dims in defeat. You close your eyes, unsure of what to expect next. All you know is that you do not want to be the center of attention. Your eyes snap open when you hear the demon's body fall to the ground.

“Lyla, scan the body.”

“He’s alive. The venom is doing its work.”

“And the other one?”

“Also alive. Probably still under the effects of the hypnosis.”

“That should wear off soon. We need to get back to the surface.”

“Affirmative! I’ll map out the quickest route!”

No fucking way. Accent and everything, even down to having an AI helper named LYLA. If WTF was a sensation, you would be feeling it now.

The black market demon is dragged away. You raise your head and see the large fellow wrapping the demon up in a bright red web. No fucking way is this happening! He’s rolling this guy around and around like a dead fly. There is no other person this could also be!

This man, Miguel O’Hara, has been moonlighting as the illusive vigilante Spider-Man!

You should really be more discreet with your spying but you can’t help it! Spider-Man stands upright, his whole suit fully illuminated with tech not yet known to the public. Dark blue and bright red, the patterns akin to the original Spider-Man who lived a hundred decades or so ago, except more minimalist to match the 22nd century aesthetic with a touch of ancient Mexican design. His mask re-materializes but you didn’t need to see his face to know who he was, there’s too much personal evidence to be mistaken. He stands proudly at 6’9” feet, like a beacon in the darkness. Then you hear a weird gurgle coming from him and he doubles over.

“Eugh!”

“I told you they added cream again. Why did you drink it anyway?”

“I was in a hurry.”

“Haste makes waste! You ended up spending an hour in the bathroom, which canceled your SM society meeting.”

“Not everyone was there anyway- Dios Mio I think I’m dehydrated…”

He groans then comes over to you and grabs your bound hands. With surgical precision he scratches off the tape with claw-like protrusions from his fingertips. You don’t move. The last thing you need is for him to know that you know him. You don’t know what to do with this information right now, it’s too much!

You are lifted off the floor with ease. You keep your eyes closed but wish you could see what’s going on. He cradles you in his giant arms and you assume he must be checking you over. It’s like being hugged by a couch.

“A scratch on the ear… no severe damage.”

You hear a small sound of indifference in his throat before you are rolled around in webbing, round and round like a burrito.

He slings you and the demon onto his shoulder like a couple of grocery bags, and you come cheek to cheek with your attacker. You scowl at his stupid face. His creepy eyes are all crossed and his jaw is slacked with his tongue poking out, so you turn your head away discreetly. Your savior walks a bit, jostling his luggage around to get comfortable before lunging straight up.

You can hear screaming from below. The demons didn’t run away out of fear; they fell back for reinforcements. You peek down and see their hypnotic faces flashing up like angry ghosts from outer space. As you and your company ascend higher, projectiles fly up, nearly hitting you in the head.

“Over twenty black market demons are on your tail,” Lyla announces.

“Got it.”

Spider-Man throws you and the demon straight up and you let out a yelp. The world is spinning out of control and you try not to feel sick. This must be what it’s like to be a shirt shot out of a t-shirt cannon. You are at the mercy of the bright red web pinning your arms to your sides as you fall back down to earth like a corn. You catch a glimpse of what’s going on below and see red streaks of lights. Demons are being flung all over the place, their projectiles not fast or strong enough to stop this even bigger monster from tearing through them.

Gravity is merciless, but before you can land anywhere more red webs fly at you from the dark, snagging you and your company on a light pole. You look down and see some of the demons below trying to reach you, scaling the light pole with crackhead energy. There is a loud ringing sound and the pole vibrates for a split second, making your teeth rattle.

The light pole shifts, cut in half like paper by something red moving lighting fast. The demons screech to each other (something about getting the hell out of there), and you are too stunned to scream for help as the whole metal pole is now falling. [Do you know how freakin big metal light poles are? Just walk up to one, they are actually ginormous. Blew my goddamn mind.]

The pole crashes down and gets stuck across two large machines, the top end jammed into the massive machinery. The webbing took all the shock of the fall, so you and the demon are dangling like a pair of converses on a telephone wire. You jerk your head around as the demons come crawling like ants, their pursuit hindered by the violent shaking of the metal pole. One flings herself close and grabs you by the head, and you lock eyes with her freaky face. She got mouths where her eyes should be!

The she-demon is knocked away with a nasty slap sound, ragdolling away into the vast darkness.

“-- Yiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii—------”

Your hero is slapping the demons around, just pimp-slapping them all over the place.

“¡ESTUPIDO!”

*THWACK*

“¡PENDEJO!”

*SLAP*

“¡VETA A CASA CON MAMA!”

*POW*

“BYE BITCH!”

*SLAP*

(that last one had their whole mask slapped off. Contacts went flying, too.)

The demons get the hint and refuse to be humiliated further. They scatter off in the dark, and you can hear cursing and swearing as they go back to their deep dark dwellings.

“THAT’S RIGHT! ¡LARGATE, FUCKERS!”

He crouches on the metal light pole with great balance and listens as the demon squalling grows distant. He huffs with satisfaction.

“Shocking idiots…”

Spider-Man crawls his way across the shaky pole and retrieves his spider sacks with people in them. He leaps off as the machine finally rips through the pole, sending it falling all the way down into the darkness. Spider-Man listens to it hit the bottom.

“Okay, we leavin’ this ass-crack of the city for real this time.”

“A few of those people are critically injured,” Lyla reports, “I saw someone’s eye pop out.”

“Well I guess someone’s gotta keep an eye out, right?”

You always heard OG Spider-Man was a notorious wise-cracker, but this guy goes a little darker with his brand of humor. He was right about one thing.

Fuck those guys.

•��《🕷》°•

You and the demon are plopped down on the ledge of a building.

"Alright, time to put you back where you came from. And I'll just leave ugly here-," he says, hanging the black market demon upright on some wrought iron decor, "Even if he wakes up and frees himself, he'll still be stuck on this roof... unless he decides to jump off... then Godspeed, heh heh."

He takes you into a one arm embrace and scales down the side of your apartment using his web as a cord. Your face is being mushed into one of those monster pecs of his, and you try not to protest the fact that you can't breathe well. You hear a crash of glass.

“Yeah, your foot just went through a window,” Lyla announces.

"Ah shock... I'll pay for that sometime. This must be the bedroom."

He kicks in the rest of the window and deftly slides indoors, holding you against his waist. You barely open your eyes and see, by the arrangement of LED lights, you are home in your one-room studio apartment. He plops you down on your bed and rips off the red webbing.

“Yeah, you are in for a throbbing headache tomorrow,” Spider-Man says, keeping his voice low.

You are still pretending to be asleep as you hear him poke around at your stuff. You can hear your apartment hub terminal activate. You wonder what he’s doing messing with that.

“I’ve ordered nausea and pain relief to be delivered to this address,” Lyla confirms.

“Good. Those visual-hypnotic masks do some nasty damage. They need to get booted from the black market somehow. You got any ID on cara de moco?”

“Jeff Landers. Lost his apartment in Queens. Pretty much plinko’ed all the way down.”

“Ah, uh huh.”

“His last known location was in the Thor Memorial Housing,” Lyla continues, “his caseworker was the last person to see him.”

“Little did they know he’d go from praising Thor to harvesting organs,” he says, a little amusedly.

“He had a bad history of abuse from his father and lived in poverty. Can you really blame him?”

You hear Spider-Man walk near the foot of your bed. There’s a pause.

“I do blame him,” he finally concludes, “you can have the worst upbringing but still try to be a decent person. His shitty life doesn’t warrant torturing other people. He coulda been more like this one here, doing everything within reason to get by while still being a good person…”

He means you.

“Whelp, time to go torture that dummy. Gotta find out where he got that stupid mask.”

You can hear him stepping over your things and slipping out of the broken window. As soon as he leaves, you spring up and run to the window. You watch this giant man scale up from below. You didn’t mean to or expect it but get a direct buckshot of his backside for a moment [Why the heck is his suit so TIGHT? WHY?! You never seen a crotch so sculpted like that, what the fuck. Do he know this?! Is he aware he looks practically naked?! It’s like his suit is painted on- ]

He jumps from your apartment to the adjacent building where he left the black market demon. There’s no mistake of who he is, especially with that body, but now he’s gone and you are left to pick up the pieces both literally and figuratively. Now what the hell are you gonna do?! Your phone and your lanyard of data sticks (basically your wallet) are still down in hell with the other demons!

There’s no time to lose. You must cancel all your credit cards and change the passwords on every account you own, because it’s not like those demons are gonna pay your bills for you!

Turning on your computer interface in the wall, you video-call your landlord. The only thing you can really explain to him is that you busted the window when you were moving furniture around. He’d never believe Spider-Man kicked it in. You find that Spider-Man is cool in more ways than just looks, your landlord thanks you for a forwarded payment with the attached note sorry about the window.

After allowing him 10 minutes to lecture you with no interruptions other than a nod or sound of agreement, you close the video with him, then begin the long hunt down of all your credit and banking connections. You use your email to recall every important account. You even find some that are out of service and close them down. It’s a humbling experience, but not in the same way as being kidnapped by that black market demon. You feel like you are dissecting your life choices, reviewing things you hadn’t thought of in a long time. You unsubscribe from the health newsletters you don’t even read anymore. You delete the emails you swore you were gonna read later. All of it, fuck it, throw it in the trash. Guilt chain letters be damned, they will have to get their money from someone else, because you won’t ever be rich enough to become a philanthropist.

You are satisfied to some degree. You look out the window Spider-Man left through. Even though he met you as Miguel O’Hara, how did he find you? How did he know you were in trouble? You’ll have plenty of time to think of that in the shower, since you smell like sea water and dead skin particles.

.°˖✧🖫✧˖°.

The next morning, you reactivate your old phone after your mother sent you some money. She’s always offered, and every time you refused, but this time you didn’t need to be spending all of what you have left. You send her a text thanking her and promising to pay her back. Afterwards, you open a video chat with Speshall.

“Hey!”

“Sup, poser?!” She sings back. You were always caught off guard by her humor, but you needed that shit today.

“I had the most fucked up day, yesterday!”

You spend the next thirty minutes telling her what happened. She laughs, she screeches, she squawks, and she groans. Then you get to the horrible parts with the black market demon, then the larger-than-life rescue from Spider-Man.

“He musta been spying on their asses or something”, she says, “how else could he know you were in danger?!”

That is a pretty good question. It must have everything to do with his identity as O’Hara. You both exchanged information, after all. Maybe he was tracing your phone? But no, you decide not to tell her about this, about the possible correlation between Spider-Man and O’Hara.

“No idea but I’m glad he showed up.”

“Yeah, maybe you were in the right place at the right time or whatever. Hey, what do you have planned for dinner? My boyfriend flaked, maybe you can come over later. Hang on, I gotta make sure he’s really not coming tonight-“

Her voice drowns out as your mind shifts to thoughts of O’Hara. Did he remember who you were? He must have, right? Maybe he will also take pity and hire you, now that he’s seen your pitiful house. And what’s more, what if you become some kind of keeper for him?! Maybe knowing who he really is might be a kind of bargaining chip for getting hired? No, that’s something Brody would do, the goon. No, Miguel O’Hara’s secret identity is good as safe. Besides, he thinks you are a good person! You need to keep being that. You feel glad to have covered for him.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“I sent you some money! Check your email!”

“Oh!”

You open your inbox and see a few new notifications. Money from Speshall, a newsletter from Maglev Motors that you kept the subscription to, and an email from Alchemax Business Bureau. You click on that first, it might be important.

Employee 2232

By request of the CEO of our parent company, you are no longer scheduled for the meeting in the major temp office of Alchemax Business Bureau. We apologize for any inconveniences this may cause and wish for the best in your future endeavors in your department. This is by no means a termination to your current occupation. Thank you for your time.

— Management

“Oh no no NO!”

“What is it? Did the money not go through?!”

You sit back and put your hands on your head.

“O’Hara just canceled the meeting!”

__________________________________________

Next: ACT 3 | INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE

[angelpuns]

SPINOFF KID LEO AU (fan story)

Part 3

Dad had come to Mikey's "rescue." It appeared to be that the kids were in the room of a certain blue turtle, why were they there? "Papá, when is Leo coming back?" Donnie just looked away, so it was his idea to ask. Apparently he won't admit it, and neither wanted to be the one to ask. They had Leo, but this wasn't the Leo they ever knew, this was different… and not because time travel. 

"What are you talking about? Leo's in the kitchen." Splinter knows what they actually mean. 

"NO! Not that Leo. Our Leo." He cleared. It was confusing to know which one they were talking about. Honest mistake, Mikey thought.

Splinter didn't know what to say. He didn't have any answers for them. He was also worried and confused, much more worried than confused. Where is his baby blue? Is he fine? Was he hurt? Was he...? Splinter didn't want to think the worst. He didn't want to have those thoughts but he can't help to wonder, When will he have him back? As a parent it is painful to lose a child. That you want to do something about it, but feel completely powerless, useless because no matter what, you can't do anything but wait. But at the same time, Splinter had some hope.. he thinks that if this Leo is his baby blue but from the future then that means his child is okay and that eventually he'll be back safe and sound... Even so, he had other three to look after. He needed to continue with his head up, he had to. For his children. 

Mikey was getting mad, he had no answers and nobody wanted to tell him what's going on. He's no dumb, it's just that everything is new to him, he is still learning. Would this ever happen to him when he gets older? Hope not. 

Mikey saw big Leo at the door or curtain, indicating not to snitch his hiding spot. The toddler mimicked said action. Why is he so cute? Leo thought. "C'mon kids, let's get out of your brother's room." Splinter said, picking up Mikey and grabbing Raphie's hand. Mikey didn't take his eyes off Leo any moment.

"NO!" Donnie yelled "He is not my brother. He's just impersonating him. I want my twin, I want my real brother." Donnie had snapped. He hardly showed emotions, and when he did, he tried to be the best possible to keep it bottled. And twins? Donnie never would've admitted, he might be glued at Leo's side at all times, but never admit that they have a special bond like twin relation. 

Leo didn't know how to feel. On one hand he could feel touched because his favorite twin wants and will fight to get him back, but on the other, he could feel hurt because the kids don't want him, but his other version of him. The past version of him. For some reason that kinda felt like someone threw a rock at him. 

Donnie cried. Mikey cries when he sees someone sad. He was the most empathetic of all of them. On Raph's side, he cries when he is incapable. The least Leo could do is to make the kids like him by the time he's being held there. For a moment he thought they liked him, but that's not near the true feelings. What can he do for them? Beside bringing back his short version... toys mayhaps? 

Leo as hardly he could, went out without being noticed. A couple of minutes had passed, Donnie had already calmed down and the other two turtles just pretended like nothing happened. Donnie gets too embarrassed after, and everyone asking his feelings made it worse. It was better to let him be. Raph and Mikey were playing with their cars, although they only had one. And Donnie was reading, not a book, but a magazine. It might not have anything interesting, nor some science facts, but it helps him practice his reading. 

While Splinter looked around the lair, the older turtle was nowhere to be seen. This worried him so much. Did he return to his time? Did something happen to him? Where is he? 

Side note: I did this in honor of Angel and his amazing blog/Au. If you liked it, I could continue with the small side, side, non-official, fan story. If not, is also fine, (it's my first time writing a story) I would love to hear some feedback and your opinion. 

Another side note: I had to re-do this part because the original went lost in a different blog. I apologize 😔

Thank you for reading 💙

-🌸

OMG I READ THIS THIS MORNING AND FORGOT TO RESPOND BUT AAAAAA YIPPEEE OMGGGG!!!! WHERE DID HE GO OH NOOO

[push-tet]

that post about Pucks

When i was researching the image of Puck in folklore. i noticed that the historians of the image of the Puck blurred and everyone is free to interpret Puck image. i really liked it and i have a desire to somehow realize it in my and Verona and at the same time to work out the lore of the fairies why not?

Clumsy (play), Oberon's Servant (play), real name Robbin Goodfellow (folklore), mischievous (play) prefers to live in the forest (folklore), prankster (folklore), suspicions of misanthropy (folklore), the fairy (play), cooperation with Obeoron (play), cunning (folklore\play)

next should be the suktchs so you can see what they look like but I'm too lazy to draw, so I'll just make some moodbords

moodboards

Puck Or Púca (don't call them that for your safety) Midasammerers Genderfluid i think? Knowledge Taurus 4\6\5\10\0 Hobbies: Science - Nature - Music. Obsession with substitutes (especially toads and frogs)

50% play, 50% folklore

Unlike the weirdos below. Puck is their real name, not a nickname

Remnant of the Midsummer Era. Puck is supposed to carry the knowledge and history of the ancient fairy people, but she's forgotten all about it

Puck used to have a passion for collecting and buying wet specimens. But because of her nomadic lifestyle, preserving them was impossible

In her spare time from scamming mortals for money and intimidating travellers in the forest. She likes to listen to classical or metal. Metal? Puck finds it fascinating that mortals were able to turn chaotic into harmony

The real body was destroyed for some unknown reason. So he exists as an intangible entity. Until he finds a new body huh. Priority is people over +185 and on the brink of death

Puck likes to wear makeup. But she doesn't know about waterproof makeup, so her makeup comes off right after her first swim at the bottom of the swamp

For friends and family, Shen; for students, Prof. Liang; for coworkers and subordinates, Puck III Gossamer He\Him Knowledge Gemini 5\6\7\3\4 Hobbies: Science - Nature Botanist

10% Play, 10% Falklore, 60% Chinese Legend

Smoking is not bad for fairies. So Shen can smoke two packs of cigarettes in a day. Surprisingly, he doesn't even stink…

Was a fashion icon in his department «Beauty doesn't interfere with intelligence. So your job as a scientist shouldn't stop you from dressing well»

He has a wife and a daughter. But because of the heavy workload, he constantly forgets about them.

A close BUSINESS relationship with Oberon

When Shen was on probation at Gossamer Corp. He and his students created the Money Tree that nearly brought the country's economy to a crashing halt

Missing in obscurity in 1966

Puck (Robin) Summerdream He/them Knowledge Pisces - 7\2\2\6\2\8 Hobbies: Science

Fascinated by astronomy, astrology

40% Play, 10% Folklore.

Although Robbin has already discovered his wizarding abilities, he is still firmly convinced that he is a fairy, it's just that their transformation has been delayed (spoiler: he's not a fairy)

Robin is talented at potions. HA! Now try saying Chemistry is a useless subject

Robbin doesn't even correct people when they are called Peck. Which is why half of Verona has forgotten their real name is Robbin

He can't say - No. Because he's afraid of offending someone. Because of this, he may have a lot of work to do

He wants peace in Verona and often thinks of putting a love potion in the drinks of the Monty and the Capps to stop this idiotic feud. But he fears the consequences of the potion's effects

In fact, he is not such a good astrologer and often says predictions at random. But by an incredible coincidence, their predictions come true

i tried to combine the traits of ONE person and at the same time, make them different. idk i did it or not anyway, choose your fighter

edit 19.01.24:

if these mfs meets

[blueikeproductions]

Hello! Very interesting points, allow you to look at the situation from a slightly different angle! But I'm just going to try to clarify a couple of points from my original question.

Maybe the caste system on Cybertron was not invented in comics, it's hard for me to understand which media influenced which at that time, I joined the fandom very recently. But in the cartoons, in fact, the background of the struggle against the caste system had almost no effect on the main plot and ending.

But this does not negate my claims towards comics that focus on this story. I do not understand why, under such a terrible regime of functionalists, all the "useless" ones were not destroyed or forcibly reformed into more useful mechanisms.

And how can such a regime, where presumably all the mechanisms are some kind of transformer, be rebuilt into a fair society? Build a replacement for everyone? That's why no media about transformers delves into everyday post-war life, because the authors either do not want to think about the functionality of society, or do not know how to build it, or do not know how to work with plots that are not cheap personal dramas. I can't understand how a plot that can be destroyed with a single sneeze can be considered in the fandom as a brilliant world-building and even a good one, it's very bad.

If we talk globally about this plot within the media about transformers and other franchises, then this plot is very popular and it is shown literally everywhere. And I understand that all this was filmed for people, especially for children, but I want an alternative. For people, such stories are understandable and fair, because with few exceptions, you can take a person and raise for any profession or retrain if necessary.

For fantastic races that, like ants, have individuals that are initially very different and exist for different functions, having the same aspirations and psychology as humans looks strange, and looking at it is already boring. I can understand that this cartoon is still made for children, well, but I doubt that the comics were created with the same age rating and for the same age audience.

That is, I want to say that it would be interesting to look at least once in the modern media at an alien or fantastic race for which such a way of life, different from ours, would be a normal and good solution compared to the rest. For some reason, it was possible to find this in the old science fiction, but not now.

I can still recall some such hint as a very casually mentioned moment in Galaxy Force, where, as a difference between Cybertronians and humans, it was shown that Cybertronians are unable to create comfortable and ergonomic rooms without mini-cons. Yes, it's not much, but it was interesting.

In fact, for the reasons you've described, I love the early view of Cybertronians as an artificially created "pseudo-race" who don't have a naturally developed culture, and all they have is borrowing from the creators or other aliens. (Yes, I'm that weird person who likes the idea that transformers were created by quintessons).

This would explain the different attitudes towards the Earth culture from Autobots and Decepticons. Autobots are created as smart household appliances, it is logical for them to adjust and adapt to the lifestyle of quintessons or buyers from other alien races. Decepticons, like military equipment, lack such a function and adaptability, which determines the relationship of the two factions to other cultures. Maybe it sounds stupid and crazy, but why not, I love crazy ideas.

In this scenario, the presence of cultures of Earth and other races on Cybertron looks logical and could even be some kind of side story about the crisis of a borrowed and at some points useless culture, about an attempt to create their own culture and the crisis of its artificiality. Well, or to show how Cybertronians have changed some customs and habits in a funny way for themselves, and not just as shown in the media, that it exists and that's it.

P.S. I'm sorry if something sounds rude, it's not a claim against you, but against the situation as a whole. Well, sometimes it is difficult to get a translator to translate politely and at the same time understandably.

Hi!

Yeah as far as most of the cartoons are concerned, the underlying backstory was the Decepticons wanted power and conquest with the Autobots and their friends there to stop them, with it being Earth’s resources, Mini-Cons, Energon, whatever was trendy that day for toys.

The G1 cartoon was really the only one that kinda explained the history of the Transformers’ origins and their primary functions, with them being Consumer Goods & Military Hardware. Presumably the Aligned Continuity and IDW used this concept as the basis of the caste system/Functionalism, but still couldn’t really flesh it out any better for what they wanted. This concept that the Autobots and Decepticons are less factions but genetically distinct has factored somewhat into Transformers Animated and ReGeneration One, where the later sees Scorponok discover this genetic quirk and sought to use a device to brainwash all Autobots into becoming Decepticons. This was also referenced in Netflix War For Cybertron, where Shockwave wanted to use the Allspark in conjunction with a computer virus that would forcibly reprogram the Autobots into Decepticons.

But as for a peaceful society without functionism, heck if we know what that’s like. No material, as you said, not even IDW, really bothers explaining what that involves. IDW just ends with Transformers and related aliens all crammed alongside humanity on Earth.

IDW2 does the inverse with Cybertron being a cultural potluck of other races before the Great War, but this isn’t really explored as well as it could’ve been.

Truthfully I think the only reason a lot of IDW’s ideas were praised are surface level “it’s deep and mature and adult”, but a lot of the ideas stop working when you think about it for two seconds. Functionism and the Caste System are bad only because they are.. That’s it. And for all the talk of being deep and real, the Functionist Council are hyper cartoonishly evil, right down to being basically the bitter high school nerds shunned by society who became the people in charge out of revenge. They kill other Transformers on a whim when they think they’re obsolete, which seems to be a reference to a Twilight Zone episode, but it lacks the finesse Rod Sterling’s team had to pull it off. The Functionists are stated to Transform into The Key to Vector Sigma, but they never once display the ability to do so, and due to writing contrivances, they can access Vector Sigma anyway without needing to Transform. (It’s all treated as a bit of dark humor btw). And then the Functionists turn their Cybertron into Primus and he is just Unicron for MTMTELL’s finale to Subvert Expectations TM. Meanwhile Unicron is being Unicron in IDW’s grand finale anyway…

The Quintesson origin story I think has become a little more attractive in recent years, both for its meta gag in the TFs being products in-universe, but also the overuse of the Primus origin that reached its peak in the Unicron Trilogy, with most series trying to avoid the Primus origin as best they could. I personally prefer the Quint origin story more and more lately, and with Hasbro doubling down more on Quints and heavier G1 ‘toon ideas, we could see a return to it full scale.

[bytchysylvy]

BODY THOUGHTS ESSAY PART 3/3

SOU CAST

(they werent meant to be spoilers but i forgot to mention it before so now its going to feel like a punch i guess, brace or dodge bitch)

rydara has a lot of mixed emotions because on one hand, he is soft and buff just as the vazuvyn ideals predicted, but on the other he is highly influenced by mortal media which looks at his build and the general largeness of vazuvyr with disgust. Dont even get him started about being a trans man while being the last child of udysna in a matriarchal society we dont have time for it. He is deeply insecure about his body and the binge eating problem isn't helping.

dathevar likes to think himself as the worlds fattest fuck and hopes to get fatter actually. his weight grounds his telekinesis and makes him literally, measurably more powerful than you could ever know. Hopes you bully him for it too because thats his kink. We are dealing with a sick fuck pervert here and we are all trapped on this planet with him.

vokutlvek has what theyre calling "post occupation syndrome" which is a self explanatory catch all diagnosis. For him it looks like his heart randomly giving out and fainting, chronic fatigue, the inability to get the strength he once had back, and erectile dysfunction. Only the other syrodsik and a few doctors know about it, he's too insecure about what's going on with him to be open about it. The fact he isn't as lean as he used to be gets to him despite the fact that most vazuvyr who lived through the occupation are now chubbier than they were before it, and its seen as a good thing, because to him its a reminder of whats going on. His body takes up more space now and he has nothing to show for it. Fears one day all his strength will be gone and he will be a useless drain on his kin.

azrem is a typical anorexic. Granted it comes less from a place of appearance and more that he is hypersensitive and gaining five pounds will feel like carrying a small child on him. And he already feels weak tired and exhausted for reasons no one could possible know so he cant afford to carry around more weight. While his appearance is very much not the vazuvyn ideal for a man he knows there is a subset of those who like his body type (such as his husband) and he tries his best to stay all dolled up to maintain that boytoy look.

qamkii is a perfectly plump little juicy pear of a man. he knows what he has. no notes.

medinyolv suffers from the dysphoria of wanting to turn themself into a dragon or perhaps a griffin. Outside this, they do not think much of their body except for how annoying it is to be so, so tiny among these giants. Its hard to let beauty standards get to you when you literally do not have a body like everyone around you.

udysna much enjoys being big and soft. its not that deep, she likes to roll down hills and likes having all the cushion she can have. she doesn't think, let alone about what mortal's think of her body.

norket knows he is a creature of great beauty and should never hide

the feelings silence has toward his body are beyond words, neither in a positive or negative way just. weird to exist like this but completely natural to do so

debatable if unknown has a body but if they do then its perfect

raqa is the most insecure specimen known to science. she could blow away in the breeze at any moment and is constantly aware of this. thinness being favored by mortals doesn't make her feel any better, vazuvyn women don't look like that, they arent skinny, who wants skinny bitches. she doesn't. she was spotted in seattle in need of a fat bitch.

panatyl loves her body because she will use it to tear you apart. doesnt know who attractiveness is or what it is.

glydenoras is ok. She's at an age where she has her clique of people who are attracted and available to her. Doesn't need much else other than that. Gets a little annoyed that people will think she's pregnant and ask considering how much trauma she has around it with all but one of her children being dead.

kudelsa has the benefit of being an age-old beauty ideal. Full hourglass figure complete with a thick waist. Of course she has a good relationship with her body. Though she keeps her attire reserved because its something sacred for only a few worthy of it. Her body is a temple, she takes care of it like one.

buvikiro is in the same boat but also is a beauty ideal for mortals since he has that stupid tiny waist. Knows she's a sex symbol to both mortals and vazuvyr dresses to appeal to both groups. Her body is an amusement park, open to anyone who can pay the fee.

[oddballwriter]

Dude, She’s Just not into You

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: It’s not a secret that Vinny has a crush on you, not even to you yourself. But what seems to not be obvious to Vinny is that you unfortunately don’t feel the same.

Warnings: Vinny can’t take a hint, feminine terms and pronouns used

Author’s Snip: Okay, so I’ve had this idea in my head for a long time. Like it’s just been sitting in my brain and I kinda put it off but I thought fuck it I’m bored, it’s raining like hell were I am, I’m kinda stressed about something, and I just wanna write and it’s my blog so I can kinda write whatever I want so here you go.  

Notes: The reader is fem and is referred to as a girl and has she/her pronouns used when talked about by the characters. (Y/N) also gets used, I believe, twice and only twice. Other than those few times the writing uses “you” when referring to the reader. Also the ending is awkward as fuck. 

This was not proof-read.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

  The fact that Vinny had a crush on you wasn’t much of a secret in the group. They could tell that when Vin thought no one was paying attention to him he’d make goo-goo eyes at you. Or when no one was talking to him at a get together he would talk to you till someone pried his attention away. Make an effort to sit next to you. Glance at you for a split second when he made a joke to check if it managed to at least get an amused huff out of you. It was painfully obvious that Vinny was trying to woo you. And it was painfully obvious that you were, unfortunately, not wooed. 

  You were not blind to Vinny’s attempts, similar to everyone else. However, you didn’t feel the same towards him. You genuinely only saw Vinny as another one of the people in your nice little friend group. But you hated the idea of shooting Vin’s hopes down so you just ignored his advances thinking that he’d lose interest and find someone else to aim them at or simply let them shed off. But of course that had to be your undoing, because Vinny’s sight was rose tinted. And so he thought that he was doing his going about charming you wrong. Which annoyed you and now the group.

  Now, Vinny was talking to Stephenie and Jess asking them dumb questions like “What do girls like?”, “What does (y/n) like?”, and “What does (y/n) like in a guy?” like they were supposed to inherently know. Or when he starts bugging Evan and Jeff about how they managed to win over Steph and Jess, as if it was a science he didn’t understand yet. It was a disaster and felt like a pebble in their shoes that they can’t get out. Sometimes, they just wanted to grab Vin by the shoulders and shake the signs into him. 

~~ ~~ ~~

  It was the end of another hang out. Which was another hang out where Vinny had tried to make a gestures to you that obviously fell useless in what it was meant to do. You left quickly since you were going to give Steph a ride home and she had already given Evan his little goodbye kiss and was tired, and Jeff and Jess had left a while ago. As if that were some cue Evan heard Vinny pipe up. “Evan,” he said, “Can I ask you something?”. Evan turned his head away from his friend and let out a sigh while rolling his eyes upon hearing the ladder half of that sentence before turning back. “Yeah, man. What’s up?” Evan asked, acting like he didn’t know that he was about to hear something he’s heard over and over again. 

  “What am I doing wrong?” Vin wonder, “What am I not doing right?”. Evan put his hands in his pockets as a mean to hide them balling for a brief moment. “What do you mean?” he responded his oblivious friend. “With (y/n),” Vinny sighed. “I’ve tried everything with them.”.

  “I like them. I give them attention. I try to crack jokes that I think they’ll like. I try and find out what they would like in a guy. But no matter what I do, I feel like it’s not working.” Vinny rambled. “What am I not doing right, Ev?” he cried. 

  “Dude,” Evan spat, “She’s not into.”. 

  “What?” Vin muttered.

  “She doesn’t like you like that, Vin.” Evan admitted. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to burst your bubble, bud. But it’s kind of obvious that she knows that you like her and that she’s been brushing them off and you learn to stop.” Evan explained. “Well, why not tell me to stop?” Vinny questioned. “Cause she’s being nice,” Evan blurted, “I guess.” he added. 

  Vin stood there for a moment. Both out of slight embarrassment of being rejected second hand, but also because it all made sense now. He felt like the biggest clown in the world and he did it to himself. 

  “Sorry, Vin.” Evan spoke. “But hey. It’s okay. Sometimes we don’t pick up on signs.” Evan said trying to lessen the blow. “I know,” Vinny remarked, “I just feel a bit stupid, right now.” he laughed.

[chemicalarospec]

hi im a terf misandrist following you . just letting you know i will be spreading your posts to radblr and everyone will know youre one of us :)

On the off chance you take a look at this response (let's be honest, who's really gonna follow-up on a hate anon, but you did say you're my follower), let's start with the important thoughts I have for you: what is it that makes the men evil? The testostrone? Why, then all women are evil too, because that's a universal hormone! The Y chromosome? I'm not famaliar with TERF ideology but what about intersex women, who were raised as women and live as women and might not even know? Do TERFs reject these poor, innocent women, victim to biological diversity? Is it the fact that men occupy the privileged position in society? Well, then if you enact your dream society and subjugate men and institute a matriarchy, wouldn't all women become evil?

And spend a moment thinking about how much it hurts to be known as someone you're not -- something I assume you understand since you appear to be attempting to threaten me with it. Think about hating your body, and how horrible that would be if you felt that way about the place in society you take. Why do you inflict such pain upon people, for such little benefit? You try to protect the norms of society or the division of men and women, yet both of those things have been very different across cultures and times.

From your attitude, I may be talking to the King TERF themself here, but, hey, it's worth a shot. Consider these things.

Okay now on to the normal response (if you want to get in a catfight and not debate, start here) because, despite how much I try, I am a person of very little patience and sometimes I just want to let it out.

I love how you started out so frightening and then just gave the least impactful threat of all time. I guess that would be scary to people who TERFwatch all the time and are terrified as being percieved as bigoted idiots? But, believe it or not, I actually have more than one active brain area and didn't even think to feel fear at that. And I instantly took "everyone" to mean "all FARTs" (usually I don't deal in useless insults but now really seems like the time) because most of this website already has yall blocked and nobody likes TERFs but TERFs. Hey, maybe that's a hint that your ideology doesn't make any sense in the real world when you take a step back!

If "everyone knowing [I'm] a [person completely lacking empathy and intelligence]" is your goal I don't see how you will succeed because I have both those traits and share none of your views. But if you're offering to give me some free notes, I do have some other unpopular opinions, and I'd love to strike a deal, whip up a few posts, and convert all TERFs to being anti- magic crystals, witchcraft, astrology belief, and pseudoscience/anti-science attitudes in general! Just like your beliefs, these ones are not popular with feminism at large, which is a sign you should adopt them! (However, unlike your beliefs, mine do not involve making the world unsafe for for people who believe differently (not that I respect them, but I can let them live freely), so maybe they're not cruel enough for you.)

In any case, as I love blocking people and investigating things, you've made me look forward to carefully examining my followers to root you out :)

A threat for a threat is only a fair trade, so here's my threat to you: One day, you're going to mature. You'll realize that if your beliefs are shared by people who don't "believe" in evolution and climate change and tell people to "go back to where you came from" -- and believed for the same reasons --, they aren't the most measured and sensible convictions. You're going to realize that hating any one group of people and calling them evil, especially for something they cannot change, is worse than offensive and bigoted: it's illogical.

(And make friends IRL. I think that would help you get a sense of reality.)

[weekend-whip]

I wanna ask you something... how do you do your research? It's so informative and also really natural in your universe, like the whole art forms thing, or technology and how it works in some chapters. Also props to you for making me zone out in that one Way of the 21st century ninja chapter about earthquakes and stuff. I had to reread them a few more times.

But um yeah? Sorry for asking so many process questions I don't mean to bother 😭

(Also Jesse in the latest chapter is me fr)

I don't mind the questions at all! They're fun to answer! ^^

Truth is, most of it is otherwise useless info I've already had rattling around in my brain (the art movements, the earthquake stuff, literally anything relating to discussion of weather—why'd you think I made a whole oc based off the concept asdfghj) as I don't usually like to talk about things I'm not fully familiar with. Staying within my lane saves some time, I suppose haha.

But at times when I can't get around it, I'm usually frantically googling stuff on the spot to make it at least sound plausible, like the logistics for the transport tubes, Jay's venom affliction, anytime tech comes up like you've mentioned, the hoverboard (rip hoverboard you are missed), etc. I don't know what I don't know until I need to know it, I guess X)

I think one of the only things I really deeply researched for ahead of time was how Zane's 2:1 body would theoretically work. That was a giant rabbit hole, but it was fun!

And I guess the way I try to make it sound natural is by having the character that would be most knowledgeable about the subject explain it. Jay gets most of the science-related stuff along with off-handed fun facts (as I refuse to believe he is anything less than a genius), while Nya usually gets history-related things, or is used to expand/extrapolate on Jay's claims (which Zane also does). Cole's more of a man of culture and pop references, while Zane is split between observational philosophy and general facts that the average person could know but probably doesn't.

Lloyd and Kai's knowledge is more based on things that could be associated with personal experiences, with Lloyd being a bit more book smart in unexpected ways (such as knowing geography amongst other things) and Kai's natural intuition and vigilance allowing him to see between the cracks when everyone else can't (which happens more often than you'd think).

Anyway, I jump through these hoops because all this extra seemingly needless information can double as subtle character building, and be some potential exposition without being bland or overly direct about it!

......I at least try to make it fun to read, anyway XD

[sadfruittheatre]

Name: Aneas

Age: Over 5000 (equivalent to a 15-year-old)

Gender: Nonbinary (he/they)

Species: Shinjin/Core Person (I lovingly call them fruitboys)

Height: 4’

Likes: gardening, sewing, cooking, romance novels, and corny jokes

Dislikes: himself, silence, people who are rude to/about his wife, aphids, and high shelves

Fears: fucking up his job and also that one day his plants will suddenly become sentient and start revealing everything he’s ever told them, or alternately start judging him or telling him they hate him

Personality: Aneas is generally very shy, reserved, and nervous. He doesn’t like to stand out, and he doesn’t even think he should. That said, he always tries to be amicable and kind, and if you get to know him, he’ll talk your ear off about the things he’s interested in. He’s a hopeless romantic and catches feelings easily— so easily, in fact, that he is already married (to someone his own age, don’t worry), and takes his duties as a husband very seriously.

However, he also struggles with a lot of internal darkness. He’s severely depressed, which can often manifest as anger, bitterness, and thoughts of violence. Said violent thoughts are especially likely to become violent actions if you upset his wife in any way, shape, or form. His self-esteem is incredibly low and he’s often prone to jealousy and projecting his own insecurities onto others. He hates this part of himself and trying to be a good person in spite of his darker impulses only adds to the imposter syndrome he already feels.

Background: Aneas is from Universe 5, one of the four universes (out of twelve) that isn’t some degree of a dumpster fire, and for the most part, has lived a pretty average life. He was an average kid, with average skills and an average amount of friends. And that was perfectly fine by him, until his friend Bragi suddenly had a lot less time to hang out thanks to all the special classes he was in. He was worried that this development would potentially spell out the end of their friend group, so he decided that he would try to study and train hard so he could bridge that gap between them.

However, not everyone is born with natural talent. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t catch up. He couldn’t even come close to catching up. The repeated failed efforts had done a number on his self-esteem, and in an unfortunate case of projection, he was sure his friend thought he was as stupid and useless as he did, so eventually, he just sort of gave up. Not just on this, but everything. He sort of just coasted by until one day, it was announced that there would be a lottery held to find the next West Kai.

Aneas entered his name into the drawing on a dare and lo and behold, it was the first time he’d won a drawing for anything. He was entirely too young and entirely too unqualified, but the lottery had spoken. And so, armed with some basic training from the other Kais, he made his new home on a tiny planet somewhere in the Other World where he would watch over his quadrant of the universe and try to figure out what in the hell he was doing.

His mental health was already bad enough, and none of this was helping much, but in a desperate attempt to keep himself from spiraling any further, he took up gardening. It took a lot of trial and error, but it proved to be something he was really good at. It wasn’t long before most of his little planet was filled with plants, all with their own names and personalities and meticulously interconnected lore. Was he going a little crazy? Probably. But talking to an audience that could never possibly judge him for his darkest thoughts wound up being incredibly therapeutic.

However, his life would change dramatically once again when he was more or less voluntold to be a parole officer for a high profile prisoner of the Time Patrol because no one else wanted to do it. Coulie, the apprentice of the Demon King’s sister, Towa, was someone with a lot of blood on her hands thanks to her incredibly dubious science experiments, and now she was at his front door. The initial encounter was tense and awkward, but they quickly found some common ground in their loneliness and talking about these more difficult feelings with the plants they worked with all day, and both of them sort of ended up forgetting why they had to meet like this to begin with.

After awhile, Coulie expressed the desire to stay with him once her parole was up, and so, being that they were already raising a beautiful plant named Eugene together, Aneas, sufferer of terminal Shoujo Bitch Disease, saw only one course of action: marriage. It was some wishful thinking that got entirely out of hand, but after a lot of miscommunication and one of Eugene’s leaves blowing in the air, Coulie reciprocated and the two were wed.

However, their peaceful wedded bliss can’t last forever, as their pasts tend to keep coming back to haunt them in various ways, from Aneas’s childhood friends, to Coulie’s former cohort and prince of the Demon Realm, Fu. Not to mention all the gods and demons alike who are more than a little baffled by U5’s baby West Kai marrying U7’s baby demon war criminal.

Will they ever know peace? Will it all come crashing down in divorce? Find out on the next episode of SAD FRUIT THEATRE!

[cleverthylacine]

6. What’s one fact about the universe of Voice of Stanix that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

Well, the series is still updating, so this is something that has not come out yet. It is likely to come out sometime this year though. Gonna put a cut here because it is a spoiler although I'm not giving away too many plot details.

If you've read VOS as far as Every Day Is A Winding Road you know that Nickel--a medic--was actually gobsmacked to learn that sparklings can be produced by spark-merging. (Winding Road is still updating--it isn't done until all the major Events of MTMTE have either happened or been averted!)

Ratchet has mentioned elsewhere that Cybertronian medical science doesn't have any idea what the gestation tank is actually for. They know it's only found in forged mechs or mechs who came up out of the ground all by themselves, except for the Cougaraiders. Ratchet got interested in Cougaraider biology because he mentored Glit and put Ravage back together on numerous occasions, and one of the things that intrigued him is why a cold constructed model would have a gestation tank. In his mind, that is perverse and cruel, because the gestation tank is a useless organ whose main function is to become malignant, so why would you put that in a construct design?

However, on the Warworlds, everyone knows that if you're Kaiju (the polite word for "Predacon", which is considered a slur in their culture) and you spark-merge with your lover, you can get sparked up and have a sparkling. Lyzack is astonished that Nickel doesn't know.

When Nickel tells Glit, he is so freaked out that he forgets Howlback and Ravage have already had theirs removed and harangues them both about not getting knocked up--especially Howlback, because her partner is also a beastformer, unlike Soundwave. (I guess he can blame information creep. Howlback and Ravage were significantly less than a vorn old when they had theirs removed, and he wasn't involved in the decision; Ravage's got broken when she was beaten, so Ratchet took it out, and Howlback had Hook remove hers so she could have really amazing valve mods put in.*)

The Warworlders were originally colonies of mecha from Uraya (like the Eukarians), where there were always a lot of beastformers. They joined the Decepticon movement but they weren't down with it when Megatron got colonialist and expansionist. Maitriona (Megaempress) quietly volunteered her Warworld to guard a distant border and then just quietly stopped responding to comms. A few million years later. Deathsaurus got completely pissed off by the same issues and publicly fucked off to join her.

Anti-beastformer prejudice is the legacy of the Quints. The Quints could not subdue or find a good use for the Predacons and tried to wipe them out; the Iaconian nobility finished the job, or tried to.

So, after the Quints left and were scrubbed from the archives, rampant Iaconian colonialism drove the Urayajin off Cybertron, and they and the Vosni were the only people who still knew what sparklings even were.

You see, the Quints realised that one way to keep their slaves in line was to make normal reproduction impossible for them and they wrote a virus that disabled internal reproductive protocols, and then relied on the reproductive system of Cybertron itself to create the 'hot spots'. But the virus didn't work on Predacons. And since the Quints were written out of history, and the Primalist, functionist Iaconian colonial government wrote the history after every other culture was essentially destroyed or fucked off to live somewhere else, everyone just thinks this is how they are supposed to reproduce.

What's blue and bigger on the inside than the outside?*

A TARDIS?

Well, that too, but I was thinking of Howlback's valve.

[josiebelladonna]

of all the social networks, i think facebook is the one i have the most dysfunctional relationship with. it’s the one i’ve taken the most breaks from, and the one that i wish i could just delete already, and yet i can’t seem to bring myself to pull the plug. i came really close a couple of times, like really close: i was there at the deletion page, but there was something that stopped me from doing it.

i want to rid of it. i want to wake up tomorrow and see it gone forever and instagram its own independent thing, just like how i want to wake up tomorrow and see tiktok gone forever as well.

what’s stopping me, you ask? my dad is on there. so is alex. and my aunt chris. and teababe. and xana.

i don’t give a single fuck about the rest of it, though. the people i’ve on my friends list are either: complete depressive pathetic trash, right-wing nutjobs who don’t listen, people in their 40s/50s/60s who are your typical run-of-the-mill boomers/gen xers or they have empty nest syndrome, people my age who are already entering their quarter-life/”oh fuck i’m turning 30 soon” crisis (been there, done that, can’t help ya) and i look at them and think “it’s 2023. what are you guys even still doing here?”, ai apologists, or just really, really, really boring people, and what’s weird is i didn’t really start taking notice of these traits until about a couple of years ago when the pandemic first hit. there’s only like a few people visible to me who actually strike me as happy or genuinely content with life. i see a lot of people on there who give off this vibe of missing something from their lives the memes are trash or glurge-y or the most cringe bullshit i’ve ever seen or just the same shit i’ve seen and heard a thousand times before on tumblr... what, 10 years ago? jesus. there are so many people on there i just punk the shit out of because they need to be challenged and offended because they have a terrible attitude (like, kristin: “ugh, pop music sucks” | me: “some of it does, but some of it’s actually kind of decent, i don’t make the rules #kristinisthenewkaren #apologiestoanyonenamedkristinwhoisntlikethatatall” - fun fact, i have never seen that woman laugh. not a giggle, not a teehee, never went “HA!”. she’s very pretentious, too: besides being a massive loser stuck in the past and an absolute fucking piece of shit i, i mean, a ~pro-life feminist~ who’s way too much of that for her own good to the point of believing in the theory of evolution but heaven forbid science proves 100 times over that it’s okay to have an abortion, she’s one of those people you look at and you think, “do you even have any hobbies or pets or books or... a sense of childlike wonder? because when you’re not at work, or bragging, you’re navel-gazing pretty much. at least I have hobbies and a dog and a cat, and i’m always wanting to read stuff, too.” yeah. you need to be punk’d, and by a woman no less). i’ve called that place a toilet before, and i’ll really call it that now. also, the groups suck, and it almost doesn’t matter what the subject of said group is now.

i should’ve left 7 years ago when it all started going downhill with the orange running for el presidente.

but i didn’t, though. because i have people i care about on there. otherwise, yeah, i would’ve deleted in 2016. all i can say is that site just needs to die. we need to let it die on its own. it’s old and stodgy and useless and clinical and censors everything and everyone often for no reason (i know it has with me).

the other thing that kills me about it? it’s the one account i have with my real name on it. i’m mostly faceless on instagram (mostly; i’ve shown my face and my name on there before but i’m known as simply badmotorartist and hannah-bal lecter on there), but it’s the one place i’m most myself on - next to tumblr of course - because i can’t do it anymore on facebook.

it’s this really weird conundrum of having people i care about on there but i feel so restricted and it also brings out the hellraiser in me, and yet i’m more “myself” in places where they’re nowhere to be found and my rebellious streak is put to good use. or in alex’s case, lurking and 99% of the time, i forget he’s there. he’s a very quiet one - you know, typical triple scorpio man, he moves very silently until he’s ready to pounce. but this also happened to me with chris all the time; and i get that with joey and eric, too, i forget they’re looking at me all the time. i think that sets me apart, aside from the art, is that i just don’t even think about it, like, “oh my god, chris cornell is following me” or “oh my god, alex skolnick is watching me”, i don’t think about that sort of thing. it surprises me when it’s brought to my attention, like “holy shit, really?” or when it happens initially, but i don’t ruminate on it, mainly because this is the internet. unless you’re sitting behind a paywall or you jimmy with your settings to where you’re left out of a simple search, you’re out in the open and you can be found. there’s something very comforting about that, too.

[justasmallbloginabigklainefandom]

@sohereswhatyoumissedlastweek replied to your post “Anyway I spent four hours straight up crying while...”:

Oh no!! Why? :( the course too hard?

​AAAAAAAAAAAARH

Yeah, basically. Today was the same. My main problem is that the way I express frustration is crying, wanting to scream, biting myself, pinching myself, pulling my hear, ripping stuff apart, hitting things and throwing with stuff. (Rip to this textbook, I have thrown it a lot and at one point started slamming it against a chair.) (Also, no worries, I never bite or pinch to hurt and I don't actually tear out my hair. I hate pain too much for all that.) (It's more that I have all this pent-up anger and I need to hit shit.) And when I am in this mood, literally everything around me pisses me off and I lose my marbles over the littlest things. My entire body is tense and my neck hurts and feels hot.

Yeah, I know. Not Good.

Basically I am constantly on the brink of tears when thinking about it. Even now I am digging my nails into my hands and biting my fingers because I am already getting so ticked off. (Although, writing this down does feel good and is probably healthier than, you know, throwing my book against a wall in rage.) (That did feel good, though.)

So this course is absolutely kicking my ass because I don't understand shit and every time I think I do, I make an assignment, only to have, like, 90% of the questions wrong. Aka cue screaming and tears. And the worst part is that I don't see the point, which is apparently a huge deal for me as well. Idk what it is called in English, but nutsprincipe is a big thing that I am working on, because if I deem it useless, I have a hard time doing shit. This is what my post about bullshit is about. I genuinely do not see the point of this except for Frege to sound smart. I see no use for it at all. Why do we need a fucking formula language for pure thought, so that we can use these formulas to mathmatically calculate thought? Isn't the whole point of philosophy that reality, however you want to define is, cannot be boiled down to a simple formula? If this was exact science, I would at least partially understand it, but come on, you want to create a clear cut formula for language that discusses existence? Leibniz and Frege, turn on your locations, I just want to fucking talk.

AND on top of that, I have been feeling unwell with stress from the last 2.5 weeks because my entire degree is so much I honest to God cannot handle it. So on top of all the frustration and stress of this one course, I am also in a constant state of stress because I have so much to do and I can't find a way to relax, because the only way I can relax is to not do it, but then I don't get it done on time and if I miss one thing I am behind A Lot. One course has a week off, since my teacher is somewhere else, and it is such an immense relief because it saves me reading 3 other papers of idk 100 pages in total. If I also had to do that on top of all the reading and assignments for this week, I don't think I would've handled it. Like, we're not even a month in and I am already on the verge of some sort of mental breakdown. I am constantly tired. I am so tired.

This further isn't helped by the fact that I also have a lot of problems with another course and I feel kinda bad about it. Everyone keeps telling me not to, since this degree is specifically made for people without philosphy knowlegde, which is why the first year is basically a speedrun of philosophy, but every damn time I am in class I realise that others did get it, and that also frustrates me. Like, everyone starts talking about the "obvious conclusion that they read at the end of X" and meanwhile I have read X three times and I had no clue that that was written down there.

Again, I am not even a month in!!! Jesus Christ, but this crappy feeling is unbearable so I am already wondering if this is good for me. It unfortunately reminds me of 2019 which I have dubber The Worst Year, where I was also on the brink of a burn out and couldn't do anything else but cry and only the thought of my thesis made me burst into tears and made me feel like crap.

AND I like my degree, despite everything. I want to do it. I want to understand it (expect for the formula logic, because fuck that for reasons mentioned above.) I look up my future courses and I am excited, so I am sort of holding on to that thought as some sort of fucking lifeline, because in my frustration fuelled thought spiral I did start to fear that I had made a mistake by doing this. YET I don't love it. Others do. Some people were talking about how much joy this brings them and how privileged they feel to be able to do this and how they bike to university, thinking life is beautiful because of this degree. I don't think that, so like Eleanor Shellstrop, it feels like I am literally surrounded by people who are better than me and who belong more. AND I AM AWARE that I shouldn't compare myself. I usually am very good at that, but well, frustration-fuelled-thought-spiral be upon ye!

Not good. I know.

I did find a stress ball but I am at my parents' home and I didn't have that so unfortunately my parents had to endure me at my worst for 2 days. I had a full breakdown yesterday at dinner, mostly because this was just 2.5 weeks of utter shit. Oops.

Am I dealing with this? No, not at all. I need to figure out how to, because this is bleeding into everything. After logics I needed to read a chapter for philosophy of cognition and I still had all that anger in me that I still kept acting out, which obviously didn't bode well BUT I did find a new way to blow off steam. Cause I was slamming books and hitting tables when I realised my mum has one of those Ring Fit Adventure rings, which is made to be pushed in!!! And that's how I did fucking excercise and I fucking hate this but it works because I just smashed through some monsters in Ring Fit Adventure and everything was fine after that. (I hate exercise and sports btw. Fucking dispise it. I am actually not familiar with these positive effects of excercise, because it usually makes me feel worse because I hate doing it.)

I don't have this game on my Switch though and unfortunately we live in the world of digital games, so it's downloaded on my mum's Switch AKA I cannot pop a cartridge into mine. This is why I always say that, if possible, you should still buy your games in physical form! It has resell value AND you can share it. Fuck digital only!!!! (And yeah, great, this works, but I am not paying another €80 for this game.)

I did add my mum's account to my Switch so that the game *is* downloaded on mine, but Nintendo has build a "fail safe" or whatever it's called into the Switch. Other accounts can only play titles from other accounts if it's on a Main Console of the account that bought it. So I can play it with my account on my mum's, but not with my account on mine, because the video game industry fucking sucks nowadays. Anyway, what I am trying to say is that I am gonna attempt booting up the game on my Switch from my mum's account but then see if it's possible in-game to pick mine again, since that is possible in this game BUT I am afraid my progress will not move over to my Switch because again shared saves is paywalled BECAUSE OF COURSE IT IS IN THIS DAY AND AGE.

(Also, lol, Hard Times from Paramore just started playing.)

ANYWAY, this did end on a rant about the video game industry, but yeah, thanks for letting me indulge in writing this whole ass essay.

[someheartlesslady]

3. How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

5. Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

6. What's their favorite [insert anything] that they've never recommended to anyone before?

10. What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

12. What's something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

14. How do they put out a candle?

21. What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

24. Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

25. What subject/topic do they know a lot about that's completely useless to the direct plot?

29. How do they respond when someone doesn't believe them?

35. What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they've made?

41. What phrases, pronunciation or mannerisms did they pick up from someone/somewhere else? (Samantha)

3. "My emotions are sleepy and relaxed, so I think I'm doing a pretty good job..."

5. "Mmm, does yawning really good count? I get tears up there sometimes, if I get a REALLY good yawn going..."

6. "Hmmm... Sleeping in the boiler room. In the winter."

10. "Pillows and stuffed animals are the same thing, someone just decided one should be cute." This is a science fact that she rambles sometimes.

12. "Garfield. Silly cat~"

14. "Let it burn out. Fire is pretty."

21. "Naps are based. We should all nap more. Lemme nap in class, I'm already passing, Professor X."

24. "Snickerdoodle."

25. "I surprise people with my sleight-of-sleeve, a lot." She produces a deck of cards from her covered hand... That specific trick is possibly less impressive with her giant sweater.

29. "I make them carry me to the thing they don't believe!"

35. "Sleeping on Penny's computer. It's warm."

41. "People say I talk like my dad? I dunno, we have kinda different accents."