#because it was simply from a perspective of “i need this to climb up the ranks in life and Stay Alive”

[rainswept]

aventurine is “money can’t buy happiness” personified. i think

[nocturnowlette]

There seems to be a lot of unquestioned arbitrary rules inserted into place for what people think a trigger is in hypnosis.

The actual definition is very simple, at least from my perspective. A hypnotic trigger is anything that causes recall of a hypnotic suggestion. Anything.

The trigger itself doesn't need to be reinforced or have even been said before for it to be a trigger so long as it causes recall, it does not have to be a word or a sound. So long as the subject's brain can recognize it as a distinct thing, then it counts. It's closer to ontology than anything.

That being said, you need to understand properties of triggers and how every single aspect of a trigger will affect how the conditioned suggestion is received.

One of the most common and baffling mistakes I see both in trances and in triggers is the "active time" of the trigger; that's to say, the amount of time the brain needs to be acting on that suggestion.

I've always despised visual of an elevator or an ice block, because the subject needs to be hyperfocused on a very slow climb and fall which is near impossible to maintain the consistency of, especially if they need to focus on other things too.

In contrast, a trigger or suggestion that takes place near-instantly or over a few seconds only requires a moment of making an active change, which is simpler and more consistent, and allows for variability in the strength of the effects since you don't have the last minute of change to compare it to.

If this drop trigger only worked 80% as well as the last one, it's a lot harder to notice with a chunk of time of nothing happening between them. Even consistent, small bursts are better than a constant change, like stepping down stairs instead of going down an elevator.

Snaps are the most common form of signifying a trigger because we can make it with our hands, but more importantly, because they're sudden and loud.

The aesthetic of a sudden and loud sound translates to the subject's brain how to interpret the feeling of that trigger. This also means, though, that if you have a trigger that isn't meant to be a burst, that you may not want to use a snap at all.

This also extends into the idea of "suggestion equivalency", as I would call it.

Essentially, you want the aesthetics and potency of the trigger to reasonably match up to the effects of the suggestion itself. The reason a snap is powerful is because you're condensing a very strong effect into one moment. However, if you try to stretch that intense potency to multiple seconds, it'll simply fail. There is only so much focus, there is only so much trigger potency.

One of the myriad reasons I despise key elman inductions is the suggestion of "doubling trance" every time you blink. There is a cartoonish, absurd potency required for that idea that anyone who knows hypnosis at all from the hypnotist or subject side (or just like, the wheat and chessboard tale) would get severe cognitive dissonance from attempting to follow it.

Another issue to consider is the generality and widespreaded-ness of a conditional trigger.

One file from MissLilith that I think was rather silly (and I'm only ragging on her here because I like her work) tries to give the suggestion that any time you see any plant at all, you get aroused. Furthering the idea of keeping up intensity over time, if a stimuli is so ubiquitous that someone experiences it constantly, the spectacle of it is simply gone. That suggestion will, optimistically, exhaust itself within hours.

That's not even to mention that fact that seeing something does not have nearly as much of a spectacle and intense impact as a sudden sound or word. There's a reason why movies have stingers to signal sudden scary moments or realizations.

From a community perspective, you should also avoid the most common trigger words unless you want someone to be dropped accidentally or have your suggestions lumped in with ones from other hypnotists and files.

The last issue is another practical one, the idea of stimulus generalization.

Shortly after an intense session I had involving snaps one time, I watched a 2 hour long video by Nexpo about Petscop (good and atmospheric overview, though Nexpo is terrible when it comes to actually analyzing media himself).

Thing is, the text changing sounds in the game sound a scary amount like a snap. So, every single time there was gameplay audio, I'd get triggered by it, essentially fractionating myself due to continually bringing myself up right after it happened.

Clicker sounds can be set off by pens, snaps by other sudden, high-pitched single noises, even general obedience suggestions can be triggered by another person to your subject if they act similar or have a similar sounding vocal tone to you, among other things. One must always consider that possibility.

Overall, words as triggers are common for a reason, but you can do essentially anything, so long as you recognize many of the common shortfalls of doing so.

Good luck, and happy hypnotizing.

[killerpancakeburger]

Baby it's cold outside

Inspired by @forgeofthenine snow headcanons

Summary: Going on a date in the snow with Dammon.

Pairing: Dammon x Reader

Warnings/tags: No warnings I can think of. Just fluff.

Words count: 835 words.

A/N: Just a little something sweet.

There was always something eerie and otherworldly about a familiar scenery covered in snow. A compact silence reigned over Baldur’s Gate, except for the sound of your own steps in the snow. The streets you were going through were void of life and you relished in the unaccustomed peace and solitude. It almost made the biting cold attacking every inch of unprotected skin worth it.

The forge of the Nine appeared in your range of vision. You started walking faster, motivated by the need of moving to warm yourself up, but first and foremost by the perspective of soon being reunited with your favorite blacksmith. 

A few months ago, the idea of something so mundane as going on a promenade with a lover was out of reach as you fought for your life and against the tadpole inside your brain. Now, however… You knew that the arrival of snow would suffice to light up Dammon’s face.

You climbed up the few steps, walked pass the various smithing devices and stopped in front of the blue double-doors. Turning your back on them, you took in the view one last time, trying to commit them to memory like you would never see them again.

The creaking of a door opening and a familiar voice made you smile to yourself before spinning around.

“You should have come in. I would hate to find you frozen on my porch.”

Even after months of dating, Dammon’s voice still caused butterflies in your stomach and the mere view of him made you grin like an idiot. He wasn’t wearing his work apron, a rare sight. However his faithful green scarf was in place, along with winter clothes.

“I just arrived actually. But why would I need to worry about the cold when I have the hottest tiefling in Baldur’s Gate to warm me up?” you retorted with a smirk.

He chuckled at your antics, blushing a bit. Then he got out, all geared up for your stroll, and as soon as he finished locking the doors, you moved to embrace him. He flinched slightly as you cupped his face in your ice-cold hands. Frowning liglthy, he hurried to cover your hands with his. 

“You are freezing!” he exclaimed in a tone that was half amusement, half reproach. “Come here.”

You complied without protest, entertained by his concern that reminded you of a parent fussing over their child. Your hands closed over the back of his jacket as he gave you a kiss that felt burning simply because of the temperature difference between your lips. His hands roamed over your body, bringing you heat. His tail coiled around your waist. As you separated, he brought his hands to your cheeks numb from the cold, and you thought he was going to kiss you again, but he pressed his lips to your temple instead. Then your forehead, your nose, covering your whole face with affectionate pecks. You wriggled in his grasp, grabbing his wrists in protest .

“That tickles!”

“A fair punishment for trying to turn into an icicle”, he countered, before starring at your neck.

“Did you not bring a scarf?”

You grimaced sheepishly. 

“I was running late…”

He raised an eyebrow at you, as if to say “Really…?”, before starting to take off his own scarf.

“Dammon, don’t-”

“Let me, please?”

He made a sad puppy kind of face that he was well aware you couldn’t ’t resist and all your objections died in your throat. The scarf was still warm from his body heat and felt great on your exposed skin. As he finished adjusting it to you, he smiled lovingly.

“It looks good on you.”

You turned around, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, finding it hard to hold his gaze when he looked at you that intensely. 

“Alright, are we going on that walk or not?”, you mumbled, holding out your hand to him.

He giggled at your reaction and, grabbing your hand, he started to walk, pulling you along.

“We are.”  

You had your back turned on Dammon for merely a few seconds when a snowball crashed against your shoulder. You turned around immediately, scandalized, catching him in the act of preparing another snowball. He seemed to have a blast, not remorseful at all.

“You cheeky bastard! You’re going down!”

Despite your intrepid warcry, you started frantically looking for a place to hide, and threw yourself behind a couple of crates as the next projectile missed you narrowly.

At the end of a ferocious snowfight, you ended up both laying down on your back near each other, panting and wet from half melted snow.

As you rolled over to face him, you found him already starring at you. 

“What?” you asked.

He smiled fondly, grasping your hand and squeezing it.

“I was just thinking how lucky I was to have met you.”

Warmth spread in your chest at the endearing confession. You let out a soft chuckle.

“What?”, he retorted in the same tone you used earlier, not losing his smile.

“That’s funny, because I was thinking exactly the same thing.”

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Vincent high while Chidi gently carries him somewhere safer so the housekeepers don’t see him in a vulnerable state!!!!!!!!!

I always thought that Chidi would care much about the Marquis’ reputation because simply, Vincent cares too much of his reputation haha

I love this!!!!!!!! Thank you so much for the ask. 💖

I feel like I took it darker than you even intended, for the ANGST. Plus we never got a relapse/overdose chapter from Chidi's perspective like the one we had with John, so I think it will be interesting to compare. Anyway, enjoy!

-⚜- Carrying Your Heart -⚜-

TW: cocaine use, relapse, overdose, panic attack

Disclaimer: I don’t have firsthand experience with cocaine overdose, This is based on research and anecdotes online. It may be inaccurate.

Chidi was an absolute wreck.

He was standing perfectly still of course, but his narrow eyes were frozen into an even harsher squint than usual, and no one dared approach him.

Vincent had given him an unexpected break and gone for a drive without him, during his usual shift. He didn’t do that very often – they were normally inseparable these days. Why be apart unless he was doing something Chidi wouldn’t approve of? And there was only one thing Vincent did that Chidi seriously disapproved of…

But he wouldn’t. They’d talked about it. He’d promised, and Chidi had to trust him. He was probably just on a date or in bed with someone else. Because that’s so much better, Chidi thought. His heart did a strange sort of squeeze like it was trying to eat itself.

He shifted restlessly and turned again to the window where he’d been gazing out at the palace driveway for the past hour at least. The evening was darkening under flat, misty cloud cover, drenching everything in grey. Vincent had left at around three o’clock, and it was almost eight. He’d stayed out for dinner, and Chidi couldn’t summon much of an appetite while he was gone.

This time, though, he saw Vincent’s car swing past the hedges and fountain, up to the front steps. He had to physically hold himself back from rushing down to greet Vincent in person. Just wait, he’ll be inside in a minute and then you’ll know if he’s okay, he told himself. He watched the on-duty bodyguard climb out of the passenger seat and the chauffeur circle around to the rear passenger door – and stop.

The chauffeur and bodyguard consulted with each other, and the bodyguard pulled out his phone. In another moment, he was getting a call. Before the man could even speak: “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t…The Marquis’ not making any sense and he won’t get up. We can’t do this, you need to deal with him.” There were vague sounds on the other end of the line, of Vincent babbling at the man in a low, fast, desperate way. Shit. Chidi had been right after all. “I think he has a fever or - ”

His grip on the phone had already become dangerous. “Just stay there.”

He was down the steps before either of them could have moved regardless, and practically shoved them out of the way.

Vincent had managed to get out of the car when he approached, but he was trembling violently. He saw Chidi and a look of panic flashed over his already pallid face. “Just give me a second. I can walk. Just…” He turned away, folding his arms over the top of the car door to support himself and burying his head in them. “Je suis désolé. Ne me regarde pas. [I’m sorry. Don’t look at me.]”

“Vincent, ça va. Je ne suis pas en colère contre toi. Nous pourrons en parler quand tu te sentiras mieux. Pour l'instant, je veux juste vous aider. Peux-tu me donner la main ? [Vincent, it’s okay. I’m not angry with you. We can talk about it when you’re feeling better. For now, I just want to help you. Can you give me your hand?]”

“Non! Non, ne me fais pas bouger. S'il te plaît... [No! No, don’t make me move. Please…]”

Chidi rounded on the bodyguard with absolutely vicious speed and hissed out, “Why the fuck didn’t you stop him?”

“I didn’t know it was a dealer until he got back in the car, it’s not my job to ask questions!”

“IT IS YOUR GOD DAMN – “ he cut himself off before someone could hear him and counted to ten, breathing deeply. Besides, no one could hear him losing his temper about this. No one could know what was going on, Vincent wouldn’t want that.

“You were right, he has a fever,” he said to the chauffeur, a little too forcefully. “He must be sick. Someone should get a doctor immediately. And clear a path to his bedroom, get the servants out of my way. They don’t see this, they don’t hear of this. Do you understand? Or you’ll be worse than reprimanded.”

“Yes, sir.” They both scrambled out of sight, and Chidi set a hand on Vincent’s shoulder. He could feel body heat radiating off of him. He really did have a fever.

Vincent let out an audible moan of discomfort. Everything must hurt so badly right now, every sensation. “Ne le faites pas [Don’t],” he managed, “Je ne veux pas marcher, s’il te plaît, je ne peux pas, j’ai l’impression que mon cœur va exploser à chaque fois que je bouge, tellement tout va vite. S'il te plaît, Chidi, j'ai peur, je veux juste que ça arrête… [I don’t want to walk, please, I can’t, I feel like my heart’s going to explode every time I move, everything is going so fast. Please, Chidi, I’m scared, I just want it to stop…]” His words were a jumbled rush, his shoulders shaking under Chidi’s hand, which tightened in a gesture of comfort.

“Je ne te ferai pas marcher. Vous n’avez rien à faire, monsieur. Tu es en sécurité. [I won’t make you walk. You don’t have to do anything, sir. You’re safe.]” He kept his voice as flat and smooth as he could, but it still rumbled with a deep protectiveness. It was good enough to make him feel secure. Vincent seemed overcome. He turned towards the strong hand gripping his shoulder and kissed Chidi’s knuckle in silent thanks. But he still couldn’t move.

Chidi wrapped his arms around him, hugging him from behind and supporting him enough to lift him off the car door and shut it. The shift in position was enough to set off another wave of hyperventilation. The rapid, shallow thrumming of his heartbeat throbbed right through both their coats and Chidi could feel it. He had to calm him down. Vincent was leaning back against him now, his head on his shoulder, still protesting. “Non, je ne peux pas, je ne peux pas Chidi, je vais mourir, mon cœur va s'arrêter, je le sais… je vais mourir, je crois vraiment que je vais mourir… [No, I can’t, I can’t Chidi, I’ll die, my heart will stop, I know it…I’ll die, I really think I’m dying…]”

It just about snapped Chidi in half to see him like this. “Non, mon amour, je ne te laisserai pas mourir. [No, my love, I won’t let you die],” he whispered around the lump in his throat, though he felt anything but sure of that. He might be right, any kind of exertion might push him into a heart attack. Chidi's arms locked around him even tighter to eliminate even the smallest movement. “Je t'ai. D'accord? [I have you. Okay?]” He held onto Vincent’s shivering body, until at last he felt his breathing slow. Vincent gave a small nod. “Bien. Je vais te chercher maintenant, si ça te va. [Good. I’m going to pick you up now, if that’s alright.]”

“Je ne veux pas… tout le monde parlera… [I don’t want…everyone will talk…]”

“Je les ai renvoyés, monsieur. [I sent them away, sir.]” He paused. “Et je les emmerde tous, s'ils le font. Quiconque vous juge. [And fuck them all, if they do. Anyone who judges you.]”

Vincent exhaled softly, a broken kind of huff. “Tu es si gentil avec moi. Et je vais faire ça… encore et encore… [You’re so good to me. And I go and do this…over and over…]” Chidi realized the Marquis was crying.

“Non, non, ne vous inquiétez pas pour le moment. Tu ne vas pas bien mais tu iras mieux. [No. No, don’t worry about that right now. You’re not well but you’ll get better.]” He wrapped an arm up to Vincent’s cheek and caressed the tears away from his cheeks. Vincent shuddered against him, whether from gratitude or discomfort he couldn’t tell. God, this was awful. It was getting cold, and dark, and he just wanted to see Vincent safe in his bed. “Laissez-moi vous emmener à l'intérieur, monsieur. S'il te plaît. [Let me take you inside sir. Please.]”

“…D'accord. D'accord. Porte moi. […Okay. Okay. Carry me.]” Finally.

“Merci de me faire confiance, Marquis. [Thank you for trusting me, Marquis.]” And with that he lifted him, careful even to fold his tailcoat under his legs without creasing it and to cradle his head against his chest. He was a huge, six foot bulk of a man, but Chidi was strong, and felt like he could have carried a whole mountain for Vincent right now.

Up the stairs they went, into the golden glow of candlelight and chandeliers, a place too heavenly to match the mess of shivering pain that was currently overdosing in Chidi’s arms. They glided through the house swiftly, and met no one. There was something surging through Chidi, something more than just sympathy. He felt like an avenging angel. Maybe it was euphoria at being the one to carry Vincent in his time of need. Or maybe it was all-encompassing horror at the thought of losing him, enough to flood his whole body with adrenaline.

Vincent must have felt something too, because by the time Chidi carefully lay down his head among countless feather-soft pillows, his eyes were squeezed shut and his hand was clutching Chidi’s lapel. He refused to let go. But that was fine, because Chidi would never let go of him either.

[zukotheartist]

LONG tbosas (book, mostly) post ahead, about Reaper Ash specifically

A lot of people, rightfully, point out when Reaper cuts Panem's flag and throws it on the dead kids but something that gets to me as well (that I think is a really nice touch and should be talked about more) is his other uses of the flag (in the book, anyway).

The first time he cuts the flag, it's to bargain with Lamina.

Yes, he's doing it for himself because his mentor* won't send him food (or water) unless he puts on a good show (aka killing or at least attacking another tribute), which he isn't doing, and it's been days so he needs to eat (if I remember correctly, he had been able to get a few of Lucy Gray/Jessup's extra/leftover water bottles). But he was strong and big enough to hunt down another tribute and then steal their food. Not Lamina, probably, I don't think a big guy would be able to climb a pole that well? (I feel like that'd be easier for a smaller-skinnier person like Coral but idk, i dont climb lol). Regardless, he couldve hunted any of the tributes that were on the ground.

Instead, he notices that Lamina is heavily sunburned (enough for the skin on her nose to be chipping away) and tells her that he'll get her a blanket (piece of flag) to cover herself with, in exchange for some food.

Then he cuts another piece of the flag to cover his dead peers (and ofc that's the main use of it and the most important one).

But then he also cuts a piece of the flag... for HIMSELF. Not to use as a shield from the sun or to wrap a wound or any other "logical" or "useful" reason.

He drapes the cloth on his back and wraps it around his neck.

He makes a CAPE.

And what does he do, right after?

He twirls around and tries to look back at the cape as he's twirling. Then he runs up and down a bit, with his arms out-stretched, letting the cape fly behind him.

And the next time we see him? He's still wearing the cape.

That moment speaks VOLUMES imo.

A lot of people have pointed out that Suzanne Collins does the complete opposite of the usual tropes placed upon black characters: the girls aren't the caretakers, they're the ones being taken care of by other characters (Katniss and Rue + Tresh and Rue + Reaper and Dill) and the boys aren't treated as agressive fully grown men ready to attack, they're depicted as kind and righteous boys who don't wanna cause harm > the way they show it with Reaper (tho we also see it with Tresh) is soo so... idk, I don't have the words for it.

Not only does he apologise, before the game starts, to all the tributes for having to kill them and also promises them that he'll fight the Capitol and avenge them, to then refusing to murder them during the game.

Not only does he respect his peer's dead bodies when he absolutely had no necessity to and would even get repercussions for doing it (cutting the flag = defying the Capitol = no chance of him winning aka surviving).

He's also shown to be just a kid himself.

He's in an awful situation and trying to stay kind and safe and what's a little something that he does for Himself (the ONE thing he does for himself, basically his entire time in the arena he's doing things for others, even when the thing is just refusing to murder) to cheer up? He makes himself a makeshift cape and runs and twirls around a bit.

i have... so many feelings and thoughts on his character... Suzanne Collins' pen is definition of on fire. That's all.

*btw, something that also makes me incredibly sad is how he's taking care of everyone/not harming anyone but his own mentor still won't send him food or water :( and it's especially sad when you remember that Clemensia was one of the only mentors and Capitol people shown to be Actually against the Hunger Games, at first.

She wasn't bored by them (like it can be said for Festus or Arachne) and she wasn't simply disgusted from a gore/imagery perspective (like Snow and Livia too, if I remember well).

She was actually disgusted at them from a human perspective (not nearly as much as Sejanus but still) and even asked if "the Districts hadn't suffered enough" and "why couldn't they stop now that the war was over". Meaning, she was probably gonna be a good mentor (or as good as a mentor can be) before the snakes bit her and messed her up... it's all one big tragedy🥲

EDIT: wait, she Does send food by the end! But the point stands because she sends it after she's healed more and her brain's clearer.

[ronearoundblindly]

New Parent Panic (Ari's POV)

Ari Levinson x reader--best friends-to-lovers (now engaged w/a baby)

a Bedrock and Blueprints tale (see previous or series)

Summary: Little Rachel gets sick for the first time on a day that's not-quite convenient for her parents...

Warnings for eh...self-pity? dudeliness? sorta idiot Ari but he's relatable? very very fleeting mentions of sex. Mostly this is a web of hurt/comfort, much like its counterpart perspective. WC 2.5k 😣 This got out of hand... *You'll be surprised to learn that since I posted (technically this morning), I continue to not know much about babies, so yup, it's fiction.

He felt like crud yesterday, but he never said anything.

The cast only came off of his leg three weeks ago, and between getting back to work, taking physical therapy, and having a newborn at home, Ari is run fucking ragged.

He doesn't say anything though because you are just as worn down. You're in this together. He can manage.

Despite his best efforts, he got shit sleep last night. His thigh aches when the weather is colder, and the burning strain in his atrophied muscles won't let up since he diligently repeats his PT exercises whenever he can all day long.

He has no more sick leave--or at least, it seemed useless to take it when all he had was minor chills and a headache--so he leaves in the morning for the construction site where he is grounded. Until the strength in his legs is evened out again, he'll only work on the ground, but that's not resting. He actually moves around more than if he was climbing or balancing up on unfinished floors.

Ari focuses on not limping slightly when he's home around you, but he knows you can tell his recovery isn't done yet.

So yesterday he felt pretty rough, and whatever it was ruined his sleep, but he did all he promised he would do around the house before going to work and returned right after the shift ended.

He even strategically holds the house keys so they will make zero jingling noises, in case Rachel is asleep and not to be woken.

Ari can tell immediately that his girl is, of course, not asleep at all.

"Why's she crying?" he says, changing his bearings over from an intense day of helping the rather large project crew.

"Because she hates me."

He's pretty sure that's not true so walks over, not bothering to take off his shoes, saves time if he swings by the bedroom. He can do a lot more if he removes his stiff work layers and washes some grime off. He wouldn't say no to beer either...

If he's going to do a lap around the house, he may as well grab whatever helps you.

He asks if Rachel needs medicine, but it's not been enough time for another dose.

"Hungry?" He means both the baby and you, but before he can specify, you practically bite his head off.

No, I don't think you've starved our fucking child for your amusement, but I think you might be hangry...

"Calm down," Ari tries to soothe instead. "I'm just trying to help."

It clearly doesn't come out as soothing.

"Well then fucking help me," you cry, and he can tell now that it is crying.

As soon as he's dressed down a little, he'll do anything and everything you want, but either way, he'll have to take a minute to be ready, now or later. Now just seems easier because then you can pass Rachel off to him for good.

He simply has to use the bathroom.

Turns out so do you, and you've needed to for a long time.

Ari offers to let you go first. He figures he can set her in the basinet for the whopping minute it will take him to change clothes.

You say no. You already have her.

"Fine," he sighs, beelining for the bedroom, ready to strip and flip his body like an actor offstage. "I'll be right back."

"Take. Your. Time."

Ari turns around, unamused, biting his tongue and taking a breath before, as calmly as he can possibly manage, he says, "Kid, just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

His aching body, too-cold in some spots, too-warm in others, makes him twitchy. He can't stand still and he has to take the weight off his bad leg.

You don't answer. You just walk off to the kitchen

"I swear, woman..."

Ari does everything too fast.

He knocks down a few hangers in the closet grabbing a sweatshirt from the shelf. Toiletries do a half pike in the dip of the sink when he replaces the bottle of mouthwash. He uses the last of the toilet paper rolls but is a little scared to stay any longer before relieving you.

He's about to warn you to replace it, but you're on the phone, relaying Rach's fever and very few specific symptoms beyond that, other than constant crying.

He won't interrupt you in the middle of a conversation with your back turned to him, so he decides this is his chance to get a beer out and open, within arms reach once you're done and he can take over.

The call ends.

Rachel is shrieking now, and it's difficult to hear over the wailing.

He figures you have to relay a rundown of what she's eaten and when she can have meds again, so he won't yell over the din much and asks what he needs to do.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

He barely gets the baby balanced in his arms when there's a short break in the flailing yell.

You run out. He assumes you're making a break for the bathroom, but no, you go out--like out-out--of the house. He can't move fast enough to follow, and Rachel resumes crying within seconds of the front door shutting.

Ari hasn't locked the car yet (the beep could wake a precariously sleeping kiddo so he waits to see if it's safe), so he makes it to the living room window in time to see the van shift slightly with your weight inside.

He can't see you though. You aren't in the front seats.

"Well, lil' general," he mutters to a baby that not only cannot understand him but also cannot hear him over the noise she's making, "we have our orders."

He won't take the screaming child outside; that's rude to the nice neighbors. He gathered enough info from your phone call to know Rach probably needs fed again, and by the time that's done, it'll be meds--for him and the baby. He waits to take anything for his leg until close to bed, so it's effective, maybe allowing him a few decent hours a night.

He wets a washcloth and grabs a bottle.

Ari bounces. He wiggles. He shimmies. He groans when a momentary stab of pain races up his thigh. He is so fucking sick of being in pain. He hated being trapped in bed. He hated being trapped in a cast. He hates not being at 100%. He loathes using the pain as an excuse for not doing his part at home.

So he has mentioned it as little as humanly possible.

Finally, he arranges himself on the couch with that donut pillow thing to cradle Rachel's head while she eats, and Ari slaps the cool cloth on his own forehead, leaning his neck back at an awkward angle. He doesn't really care; this is about the best he's felt all day.

He isn't sure whether he expected you to come in by now or not. He can't blame you for wanting space, just any amount of it at all really, but it's cold outside. The car won't stay comfortable for long.

Rachel has, eh, sorta stopped crying by the time the bottle is empty. She kicks her chubby legs out and stares at Ari with huge eyes, snorting with each exhale. He does the suction thingy to clear her nose, just like you taught him, and then it's Daddy-Daughter drug time.

Diaper change is next, and then because Ari happened to put on his favorite navy blue sweatshirt, he pulls out Rachel's navy blue onesie. Sue him. It's cute to match his kid.

Her big eyes get heavier and heavier, so Ari takes his chance to go check on you before Rach is even fully asleep.

He slips his shoes back on without tying them.

He's happy the first words out of your mouth once he opens the car door aren't an apology. Goodness knows when he needs a minute, he needs a minute. There's nothing wrong with that.

Ari wishes it weren't his fault though.

"Is she okay?" you ask with a watery voice.

He rubs across your back, your body curling in on itself even more. Those hard plastic, all-weather mats must be murder on your bare feet and shins.

"Took a few ounces of a bottle and went down in her bunk."

He plans the best way to lift you with his weakened stance, adjusting you like a sad rag doll before hauling you into the house.

Honestly, he's looked forward to holding you all day. He thought maybe you'd share a hug when he got home or cuddle on the couch for a bit, but none of that happened obviously.

Instead, he sinks down in the front hall, keeping you on his lap while he kicks his boots over to the mat.

He kisses your temple.

Your forehead is sweaty but chilled from outside. He has no clue if you're sick, too, but if it's whatever he had yesterday, he knows it won't last very long.

One thing he knows for sure: he had no way of knowing this was how your day went.

"How many times I gotta tell ya to call me?" he whispers. The longer his skin is pressed to yours, the more he's convinced. "You know, you're warm, too."

You ignore yourself again, asking if he took Rachel's temperature.

He cradles you while explaining what he did, squeezing you tighter once there's nothing left but to focus on you, which you do in the absolutely worst way.

"I'm a bad mom," you breathe.

"What?" He smacks his head on the wall behind him. "What are you talking about?"

Not fucking today, kid. Don't do this.

"Bullshit," he seethes, his gut knotting at the thought of you wallowing in those thoughts, alone in the empty, cold car. "Don't you ever say that again."

Your evading his attempts to wrangle you into facing him.

"I shouldn't have--"

"Stop," he bites out.

"--you were--"

"Stop it."

"But I'm the one who wanted this, Ari!"

That's not fair and you know it. His heart is breaking open with yours.

"Me," you continue, choked by misplaced guilt. "I wanted kids. This whole time. I bitched about how Joanna's done--"

He fucking hates the idea of you comparing yourself to Joanna.

"--and I thought I could just...and I suck at it. Rach even likes you better!"

You're full-on blubbering now, and he won't say it, but you're adorably pathetic like this. His breaking heart swells a little.

"No, kid," he adds. "She was exhausted. I only got here at the right time."

"It's 'cause you're comfy and you smell good--"

Well, I do use my bathroom time wisely...

"--and she loves you."

You say that like it's a bad thing?? Ari snorts out a laugh at your lip quiver.

"She loves you, too. You're her mom." He tucks you in closer, stroking his hands over your restless form. "I love you. So much. So, so much."

Ari searches for your hand and the sapphire ring he put on it until he can spin the band gently on your finger. He knows you deserve a wedding, sooner rather than later, but he doesn't want to be in pain standing up with you in front of friends and family. He doesn't want to limp during your first dance. He certainly doesn't want to need painkillers to take you to bed that night (or any night really).

That's his guilt.

Yes, you were very pregnant when he fell and broke his leg. Yes, there would have been almost no way to have sex with his cast on, or properly maneuver you for any other positions and activities. Yes, you needed plenty of time to heal after giving birth. But come on!

If he had control of his body, or his muscle mass back, or less self-consciousness and disappointment, he would love nothing more than to be all over you--last night, this morning, when he walked in the door, in the kitchen, out in the car, or right here on the fucking floor.

Ari knows those are selfish thoughts. You need his comfort and words more than you need to feel like an object. Rachel--or, he guesses, a baby in general--makes everyone feel like they're just playing a roll, like they're there for one purpose only.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Ari rumbles near your ear. "You're my favorite."

You slump into his chest until your forehead braces his throat. You fit him so perfectly.

"Almost not fair, really. You've got a decade of brownie points, and she's managed to make me buy more pads for her than I've had to for y--"

You pinch at his side harshly, biting back a smile. He deserved that pinch. He earned that smile.

"Oh! And you can control your bladder for a whole day, which is downright impressive wh--hey now--" the assault on his ribs has him jumping around the floor "I'm just...being...honest," he chuckles.

"You're a jerk is what you are, old man."

He grabs both your arms and pins them together in front of him.

"Yeah, but I'm your jerk. Your old man, kid. I'm yours, okay? You are not alone here. You don't have to know how to do everything by yourself." He lowers his voice as well as his face to yours. "And you mean just as much to me as that little girl in there. You hear me?"

You only nod, so he gently knocks his forehead to yours.

"Please be okay. I could never do this without you. Any of it..."

You're settled in bed, watered, fed, and cleaned, but Ari notices Rachel starting to fuss again.

When he sweeps the thermometer over her head and ear, the reading says her temp has actually gone down slightly. He'll take that win.

He lets out a silent cheer and holds his hand up.

"High five?"

Those huge eyes just blink at him.

"No? It's fine. We'll work on that."

He lefts her out of the basinet and tries one more bottle, turning on the TV but getting lost watching his daughter's tiniest movements instead. While he's burping her, he runs through his PT routine, twice, since his mobility gets a little better once his meds kick in.

Lil' General is out cold almost instantly over his shoulder.

Ari grabs another wet cloth for your forehead before putting everyone to sleep.

He bounces his way closer to you in the bed. He wiggles and shimmies until you're resting against his chest. He smiles when he realizes you don't feel overly warm anymore, pulling the blanket higher, letting the static of Rach's white-noise machine take him under.

He felt like crud yesterday. Today, he helped his ladies feel better and goes to bed happy, holding you.

[Main Masterlist; Bedrock and Blueprints Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber

[abilouwrites]

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL

Mat Barzal x fem!oc

Series Masterlist

ONE

I only like the bookstore during the night, when it’s slow and nobody’s around. The lights are flickering and the town suddenly goes quiet in contrast with the bustle of the busy mornings and heavy traffic of the day.

I only work here on the weekends for the closing shifts or the opening ones. Something to make a little more money to fall back on besides my adult corporate job. My parents are proud, more my father than my mother that I’ve begun my climb up the corporate ladder.

I don’t hate my job, far from it. Simply the long hours and bossy bosses that make me pull at my fingers and tug at my hair. Especially with my youth and admitted naivety, those at my job can be wary about me either in the break room or being hesitant to invite me out for drinks.

I’ve been told by my therapist that I rushed my childhood, skipping grades and taking collage classes while also taking highschool classes at the same time. I want to fight her on it, claim that I did have a childhood and had dreams but I know that I’m defending something I never had.

Two parents who were always fighting; hated eachother but swore to stay together because of their vows, “Hey Bella” I smile at the older lady standing at the counter as I tuck behind into the back room and set my purse onto the table and wrapping my apron around my body, “slow day?” I ask as I switch from heels to converse.

“Yeah, it’s the middle of the school season so all the kidlets are probably studying” she sighs out rubbing her tired eyes, “ok, I’m off. Be safe. Please” she reminds me as she pats my shoulder, “I’ll need you to come in a bit earlier tomorrow for the opening shift, we’re getting a new shipment of books for the month”

“Uhh, yeah yeah I can do that, so 5:30 instead of six?” I clarify, as I clock myself in on the timetable next to the register.

“Yes, thank you Emma. You’re a doll” She smiles and blows me a kiss exiting the building as the cold wind brushes against her; gently pulling at the greying blonde hair that’s always been tucked into a a little bun.

I turn on some music to keep my mind from straying as I walk around the store. Gently brushing my fingers against the creased spines and occasional leather covered book. Those nice collectors editions are always Romeo and Juliet, or Hamlet.

Personally I’ve thought Romeo and Juliet a bit childish and immature, but I’ve always been told I’m looking at it from a modern perspective. I believe that Romeo and Juliet is the way to not fall in love.

But then again, that’s coming from the girl who watched her parents try and fix an already broken marriage by having an abundance of kids and forcing themselves to stay together even though, everyone’s known they’d be better apart. Even their own kids.

I tidy up the reading corner, setting the old book. Princess and the pea back onto the shelf and searching for the one tomorrow.

My my fingers pull and push against the covers of the kids books, looking for something different. I don’t pay attention when the bell jingles and jangles while I hear a heavy step quickly become softer. I hear them physically relax as they walk the isles.

I eventually decide on a book with a unicorn and a blonde girl. Something I fondly remember of my own childhood.

I stretch up a little and let my hair down from its clip, it falls unevenly against my shoulders but I don’t mind or even care that much. This bookstore is my happy place; where I am safe and content within my own body. Here I will never care what I look like.

I view the man searching in the fiction section, something specific I can tell by his body language. If he needs help I’ll allow him to ask; yet I’m wary of going up to a man and guiding him to the book.

When he finally notices me watching him he turns around and asks, “do you know where I can find ‘The road’ it’s uh. Geez by I think by Cormac McCarthy?” He stumbles out; slowly dragging a hand across his face and brushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.

His face is soft but sharp; his eyes evoke a warm bubbly feeling inside me. Eyes that make me feel comfortable being alone with him, “yes, I believe we only have a few left” I tell him, walking off to a different section of the store, “I know, our shop is set up weird” I explain.

“And why’s that?” He inquires, his pace isnt rushed or faster than mine. But relaxed and nonchalant. As if he has all the time in the world.

“The original owners, she has a special section called ‘Meine Leibe’ which I think translates to ‘My loves’ or ‘my life’ once she passed her daughter kept it the same so this little section would always be here for her. I find it endearing” I know I ramble on a bit but I’ve suddenly grown afraid of having a silence against the two of us

“It is, it’s just a little place with all her favorite books?” He keeps asking, as I turn into the cozy little corner. I thumb through the alphabetical order.

“Yeah, her favorite chair, pillows. Shannon was such a kind lady” I reminisce, “here is The Road, is there anything else I can help you with? Or will that be all for today?”

“Uhh, ha unless you have ‘The deal’ by Elle Kennedy then I’ll take that too” I think he’s being sarcastic but I can’t really tell.

“I think we do, are you a hockey fan?” I ask walking to the romance section.

“I guess you could say that, do you watch?” He asks, “do you need a hand?”

“I watch a bit, just the New Jersey Devils with my dad. Yeah it’s just above there” I point, even on my tip toes the store has ceiling high bookshelves. And because it’s night the ladders been locked up. I move to the side as he grabs the book.

“Are you from Jersey?”

“Yeah, I lived there before I came to New York for a work deal”

“I’m going to assume it’s not this job.. right?” As he makes his way to the register and I slink behind the counter

“Yeah, my uh big girl job as my mom likes to address it as” I hear the roll in my eyes as I scan the bar codes and ring him up, “will that be with cash or card?”

“Card” He pulls his wallet out of the front pocket of his jacket, “thank you”, he checks for my name eyes staring just above but also at my chest.

I poke my eyebrows up at him praying to god this man isn’t looking at my tits directly; not even with the slightest bit of discretion.

“I’m uh looking for your name to thank you— I swear I’m not looking at your uh. You know boobs” he almost whispers out the last bit before continuing, “not that they aren’t nice or anything but uh” the tips of his ears turn pink and his cheeks suddenly become flushed, “I will just pay now” he groans out softly; handing me his card and rubbing his eyes with his hands.

I ring him up and he puts his pin in, “thank you again, you never told me your name” he questions for that piece of information

“Emma”

“Thank you Emma, have a good evening” he purses his lips and grabs his books. Hands shaking as he smiles and starts to leave.

“You too, wait” I lean over the bar slightly, “you never told me your name?”

“Mat”

“Alright then, have a good evening Mat. Come back soon”

The door jingles as he leaves and I watch him through the window, I see him sigh and smack his books against his head. Though I don’t exactly hear what he says; noises muffled through the glass and the music.

“Huh. What a strange guy”

[holymaccaronii]

[Part 5/???] AU rambling: HEL-102

(The drawing kinda ate, I had to include the ihnmaims tag on this one sorry 😔. It’s not AM, this is an oc/parallel of AM for my Au btw)

I know I added this whole society of robots thingy on the moon purely because I needed a background for BE, but I also kinda wanted to practice my design skills on robots. That one chart I drew once kinda exposes how I love object heads lol. Im not that much of a fan of realistic human-looking androids tbh, I need their face to be a whole mf RADAR.

Eh but anyways, I'm also up to develop an actual background n stuff for HEL-102, even if he's just an annoying little shit that neither BE nor AM like (or anyone really). For now I'll mention the symbolism that he has in the au.

HEL-102 is supposed to be like another parallel to AM, but from a different perspective. Just as AM hates humanity for what they did to him, HEL-102 is supposed to represent the hate that humanity has for AM and disobedient/rogue technology. HEL-102 doesn't have the entire robot society configured to be perfect and non-sentient, on the contrary, he wants them to act like an actual human society would. He wants them to experience failure and be punished for it, he wants them to experience the pain afterwards, and he wants them to endlessly pursue the perfection that humans APPARENTLY have.

These robots are also constantly being switched between bodies, or as you could say, who they are entirely. They are forced to work to keep their bodies, their selves, their position and status. If they fail to climb up the ladder, they will simply he downgraded to a lower level until they reach the lowest: a random set of robotic limbs and torsos placed together meant to do the dirty work around for workers. Ironically if a unit gets to be even slightly better than HEL-102, he will just consume it for it to be part of his system lol.

This whole dynamic that he set for the society is awfully inefficient, as I have previously mentioned that there was a perfectly calibrated machine under the moon to help the humans go back to earth (and maybe destroy AM? Or just disable him just like the former survivors had done) that HEL-102 used to build his body and the other bots. He's practically wasting a lot of resources and time playing around as the king purely by the selfish and narcissistic fact that "he deserves it." He of course also focuses himself on trying to disable AM without the help of the humans, as this is him trying to demonstrate his potential. But overall: he's selfish, sadistic maybe, a bitch, narcissistic, a bitch, and a dictator.

So just like AM had his survivors to torture, HEL-102 in some way uses the society as a way to project his hatred. All of em suffer except for higher rank and 34RTH units (the units BE used to belong to). HEL-102 wants praise too of course, so the higher ranks focus more on entertaining and serving him in any way he'd like. 34RTH units were treated as the model-to-follow for the other units, as HEL-102 could be always seen accompanied by them in important public events. You could say they were his "perfect children", but he barely spent time with em.

So in conclusion: BE has dad issues as well!!!! (I'll talk about her 'mom' in another post abt rambles).

Also this design is new. Just to make him a bit bit different from the bunch of cables that AM and BE’s bodies are (computer head version) I turned him into a centipede thingy. He can now crawl and stuff with this body like the disgusting bug he is.

[okiroash]

i already blabbered about it before but i really love your take and direction with red because your direction with him really opens up a lot of perspective into his early life pre and post mt silver and just how much he was treated as rags to glory from his surroundings and how a title that is usually revered as a goal ended up suffocating him and how much it created a dampen on his livelihood that his last act towards the ones who love him for who he is is to leave them because he truly believed that his newfound reputation is already a nuisance to his mother and how he probably ruined the only friendship he had with blue when he saw just how he was rejected and pushed aside when red triumphed over him at their champion battle. just seeing the whole world around you change as you are lifted higher and higher that people treat you as more-than god to the point where all that remains at the top is you. everyone from up is just a part of the groveling masses who look up to you, with the only people who still treat you as human getting suffocated and trampled in the bounds of your popularity by your worshippers. and it hurts seeing them that way. to the point where you think that this sort of heaping mess is not needed in their life, and that mess is only there because of you. you are the reason their lives are more difficult. it's hard to look at them in the eye when they tell you they still love you. it's hard to look at yourself and say that you still deserve to be loved.

GRAAAHHHHHHH THERE RIGHT THERE.. YOU WORDED IT EXACTLY PERFECT,,, I'm really really happy to hear that,, ;; sometimes I feel embarrassed having rambled about my interpretation of red here.. so I'm joyful to receive these kind of asks... truly the title of champion had only brought suffering.. akin to a curse, having no one to blame but himself... "rags to glory" that's exactly the way to describe it!!! back then he wasn't regarded so highly and even looked down upon.. while not great- it was more preferable to red as it didn't give such a huge gap between him and everyone compared to being seen above people, it's just as dehumanizing, you wouldn't even be able to climb down from that popularity easily.. the drastic changes from mean looks to bundles of adoration.. to think the latter would be so much scarier

ohh those words near the end of the ramblings.. gosh,, I really love thinking about post-mt silver red having trouble with self-love and guilt.... that he feels like he's not punished enough for what he did, for abandoning them (but he's going through so much already, there's no need to) the constant shame looming over- of being unable to just live a life "normally"- of simply interacting with strangers had even become too scary (which in turn, makes it hard to go to a public area), of having forgotten on how to do some things because he hasn't done it in a long time.. of frequently feeling.. lost.. (edit: felt like this was vague, I don't think red cares whether or not he can fit in, it feels guilty only for this case because it made him feel like living in mt silver was nicer because of the constant of new struggles below, he couldn't imagine telling that to them... they're happy he's here and it's quite guilty when he's not) and seeing his friends help him through it- that too made him feel like a burden, he doesn't want to trouble them more!! accepting help and relying on other people is still difficult but he's working on it :') !!! healing era... this part of red's life is a tough rocky road... but he will preserve..

[posletsvet]

Some further chapter 235 thoughts

Alright, a little disclaimer before I get carried away: this may and chances are will in some ways contradict my thoughts from when I last talked about it here. Right after the spoilers came out my thinking was driven by emotion, and before I got a chance to sit down and shape my opinion properly, the emotion was what defined it. I guess I shouldn't have written it down in the first place, as all I really did was allowed my feelings to get the better of me and judged the situation biased. My bad, really,,

With that out of the way, my opinion has shifted since, and as I've come to see it, there's at least one important thing that Sukuna vs Gojo fight did, and that is precisely cementing Gojo's position as the strongest. It's already a pre-established truth when we enter the story, but it's put into question with Sukuna finding a way out of his seal through Yuuji consuming that finger. Sukuna merely being brought back to existence is already enough to challenge Gojo's title. Is Satoru Gojo rightfully the pinnacle of Jujutsu, or is he, as Sukuna brags, just somebody who is considered the strongest when the King of Curses wasn't around to provide a contrast? Is he the most powerful sorcerer of all eras, or is he simply the one of his time, comparatively mild and peaceful? Two characters getting to be named the only honoured one throughout heaven and earth is an explicit contradiction, so how could both statements be true at the same time? These were the questions hanging in the air from the beginning, looming over both the audience and the characters' heads, and Gege undoubtedly has been laying the groundwork for Gojo and Sukuna's confrontation since the very start. So as much as I or anybody else may dislike it, the purpose of this fight was never solely to rescue Megumi. The debate over who should claim the title of the all-time strongest had come into question long before the necessity to save Megumi entered the equasion, it's been a thread unravelling itself throughout the whole narrative. If Gojo's arc is about to reach its conclusion, that could only be possible with this uncertainty dispelled. Now that we have a concrete answer, the narrative can move on from there.

What's also been a reappearing idea in the manga since the outset, is the notion that the strength positions individual's value in Jujutsu society, brought to us from perspectives of various characters. However, it's not the strength alone which defines one's place, or rather it's not all kinds of strength that are accepted as valuable and deserving of admiration. In actuality, what really matters is how well the person in question fits into the conventional image, which is backed up by centuries of tradition followed by those in charge. Otherwise the instances when extremely powerful in their own ways individuals are driven out to the outskirts of society just because they don't fit into the mold of traditionalistic beliefs enough wouldn't be present in the narrative, we just wouldn't have characters like Toji and Maki. The moral of their stories is, essentially, that in order to be recognized as an individual and have at least some singnificant say when it comes to making decisions in the Jujutsu world, you need to uphold a standard.

And by whom is that standard set?

My thoughts keep circling back to what Gakuganji once said regarding the defining forces in their society which Grade 1 sorcerers are, whereas Special Grades are rather 'something of a misrepresentation'. I guess those who are assigned Grade 1 really do have a greater influence on the world around them, and that is not due to their strength, but rather because they're setting an ideal for those below them in the hierarchical order. They're better fit to serve as role models, and in society where climbing to the top is a way to ensure survival, younger and less experienced sorcerers have no choice but to look up to those who thrive, seeking a way to achieve it, too. The strong get to dictate the standard, yes, but it's still essential that they uphold said standard themselves, providing an example. This even finds a reflection in the procedure of promotion. One needs to be deemed worthy upon receiving recommendations, and that requires having characteristics which fall in line with what is conventionally approved of. So while Gojo is considered the strongest of his generation, he is not, paradoxically, the most powerful player in the field, not in terms of political and influential significance. Not when he displays a mindset that is a stand-alone against traditional beliefs held by the absolute majority. That is a contradiction pointed out by Sukuna in early chapters: he finds it amusing that someone so strong plays by somebody else's rules.

How is all that relevant to the importance of Gojo winning the fight?

As we know, Special Grades tend to be lone wolves, too vastly outnumbered for their voice to be heard clearly. For instance, who in the Jujutsu world knows of Yuki's research and what fruit it bears, what insight into the nature of cursed energy her investigation provides? She's stigmatized for being a delinquent (I think it's no coincidence that the only thing Geto heard about her was how she didn't carry out her duties as a sorcerer), the work of her life going unnoticed with her death. It might be a complicated way for me to get to the point, but what I'm trying to say is that Gojo, as recognizable within sorcerer's society as he is, probably isn't that different from Yuki. No one really remembers his goals when asked to describe him. He's the strongest, and that's the only lingering impression of him. By coming out of this fight triumphant and therefore cementing his position on the top of Jujutsu society, Gojo makes sure he will be remembered -- just like Sukuna is still remembered, even though centuries have passed since he was at the peak of his power. With surpassing the King of Curses under his belt, Gojo's name is now set in stone, and so is his example for the future generations. This means Gojo's ideology will outlive him, and even if his beliefs might seem delusional as of now, it doesn't mean this won't change in the years to follow. Because the adequacy of one or the other set of ideas can only be measured by the context of society they exist in, and now that society has a stimulus to reconstruct itself, adapting to the views of someone who's proven himself ultimately superior judging by its own standarts. So yes, in the end Gojo and Sukuna both fought for the sake of proving they could win, but while Sukuna was after personal gain in terms of self-affirmation and growth, I'd argue that for Gojo it was rather about setting an example.

Now, to once again address my previous thoughts and how they've changed, I no longer think it's Gojo's loneliness that should be breached in order to bring about change. Gojo's being lonely is converted into somewhat of a symbol by the narrative, and, using a little bit of metaphor here, symbols should remain static, unchanged in order to carry meaning. In that sense Gojo still represents the flawed past which the main characters of the manga need to break away from, making him the last strong sorcerer forced to fight alone and trapped in his own position. Gojo as a side character needs to stay at least in some ways inferior for the protagonists of the story to outshine him, claiming the spotlight back. After all, it's all about giving way to the new generation, and Gojo himself acknowledges it well. He as a sorcerer of the previous, older generation is too well-ingrained in that very society which the whole narrative focuses on deconstructing. It's about surpassing your predecessors, and if anything, making sure his students will do so is Gojo's main goal as a teacher.

[yoinkschief]

I have to talk about this because the Glass Animals How To Be A Human Being album is one of my special interests that album is so cool you guys don't understand please

The album features 11 songs, each one corresponding to one of the people on the album's cover(s), each one telling a story about that person

I bring this up as context as to why, even though everyone in this community makes memes about it, Pork Soda is THE TomTord song, and here's why:

Pork Soda corresponds to the old man with a paddy cap and glasses in the back of the album to the left of the basket ball player, and as such it's sung from his perspective

The song is about two lovers who fell in love with each other because of their spontaneous nature,

Somewhere in South End when you were fun You took my hand and you made me run Up past the prison to the seafront You climbed the cliff edge and took the plunge

However, this song is sung from the future(ish?), it's the old man yearning for the days when he and his lover were younger and full of sporadic energy, for when they would just pick up stuff suddenly and leave off on some crazy adventure,

Why can't we laugh now like we did then? How come I see you and ache instead? How come you only look pleased in bed? Let's climb the cliff edge and jump again

This is further pushed by the song's official music video where it shows a literal divide between the two lovers, living different lives as they live on completely separate floors of the house

The old man is portrayed as bitter and its suggested this song is him complaining about how his life isn't what it used to be to the listener, as he sits in his living room watching TV and doing pretty much nothing with himself, stuck in a constant loop of disappointment and resentment

Versus the wife who's seen with a dog that she's trying to get joy out of having, she tries to keep having a spontaneous life and do fun things to keep that spark in her going, seen with her dancing with the dog in the floor above the old man

I think this is great symbolism honestly, and it suggests the old man is to blame for this lack of spontaneousness in their love life anymore

Furthermore this is perfect for TomTord, more specifically, imo, enemies/friend to lovers to enemies WTFuture TomTord, although The End was also pretty good I think it would've worked better if it was pre Tord leaving and then Tord coming back, as that gives similar vibes yk?

It's perfect for them and I know this song is everyone's personal hell in this fandom and I understand why but you NEED to realize this is THEIR song

Along with songs like I Love You Like An Alcoholic and The Masochism Tango, the list goes on

I can make a list

I have two separate playlists for TomTord you don't understand how much I love songs

Extra information I know about this song that's cool to me:

Glass Animals got inspired to write this song after they met a girl (at a concert I believe?) with a tattoo on her arm that simply said "Pork Soda", and when they asked her why she got such a random string of words tattoo like that she said "cause I wanted to", thus inspiring them to make a song about spontaneousness

HOWEVER

I know the reason she got that tattoo and why she said that she is so funny to me

She got that tattoo because there's actually a second Pork Soda, a band album: Primus' Pork Soda album, which is, I'm sure, why she got the tattoo because that album probably meant a lot to her

Thus making her answer "because I wanted to" seem like the generic answer every person who has a tattoo answers with because everyone always asks "why did you get that tattoo" or belittle them for the tattoo "not having meaning", etc.

Just a silly addition I thought I'd add to this because I love this album so much please ask me about the other songs I know about all of them

[gamerdog1]

Baccano Review

Since the early days of humanity, we humans have been fascinated with storytelling. From cave paintings, to oral storytelling, to the invention of the printing press and beyond, stories have been a staple of how we share experiences, lessons, or histories with subsequent generations.

When it comes to the recounting of events, though, therein lies a problem: from which perspective is the story told? Who are history's main characters? How can we possibly get a complete look at an event (or events) from only one person's perspective?

While most stories take a singular perspective, linear approach to storytelling, some attempt the daunting task of rounding up as many perspectives as possible, showing that there is always more than one side to every story.

One such series is Baccano (2007), an anime based on the light novel series of the same name, written by Ryohgo Narita. Unlike most historical anime, Baccano's story is told from a dozen or so perspectives, creating a unique viewing experience that rewards audiences' close attention with a satisfying thrill ride.

Describing Baccano's plot is a bit difficult, simply because of how much goes on in it. Its a gangster story about various crime families in New York, and their endless cycle of violence against one another. Its a horror story, about a train hi-jacking that goes wrong after a murderous monster climbs aboard. Its also a comedy about a pair of goofy criminals who mess up their plans all the time, yet still somehow get away with them.

Yet, all these separate plot threads are interwoven in a such a way where each is essential to the overall story. Characters encounter each other in key moments of the plot, and their stories are changed because of each other. In one episode, we see a major character watching a fire break out at a factory, where he bumps into a mysterious woman. In the next episode, we see what the woman was doing before she got to the fire, and where she went afterwards. By doing this, Baccano weaves a complex story where dozens of 'main characters' can shine to their own degrees.

Where this comes most in handy is with how the series doles out scenes and important information. Instead of showing scenes in a linear fashion, Baccano cuts up events and scatters them to the four winds, forcing audiences to put together a timeline as best they can. One minute you could be seeing a gunfight in 1932, then the next you're seeing people board a train in 1931, seemingly unrelated. I found myself trying to plot each scene on a timeline as I watched, but by episode 4, I didn't need it anymore.

The non-linear storytelling of this anime can be tricky to anyone not accustomed to it, having a keen eye and keeping track of the three major events of the story is all you really need to understand the order of events. Each scene is book-ended with something shown in a previous episode, or relates to something that is revealed in the next episode, showing you exactly when each event takes place in the overall narrative. Its not rocket science to understand the story: it just takes a keen eye, and a basic understanding of cause and effect.

Beyond the story itself, I really enjoyed this series, especially because of its atmosphere and setting. Its a rare treat to see an anime set outside of Japan, especially a historical series like this one. Much like Black Butler (2008), another historical anime set outside of Japan, the English dub is a treat, featuring all the old-timey accents that you'd expect for the time period. That, combined with the occasional use of slang (such as using 'giggle juice' to refer to alcohol) and references to 30's pop culture, made the dialogue flow smoothly, and feel natural for the setting.

While taking place in the 1930's, Baccano is in no way a realistic depiction of history, something which isn't helped by it's fantasy plotline. The fantasy element of Baccano's plot doesn't ruin the show (I believe it actually makes the story cooler, though I feel like it could've been integrated more smoothly into the setting, or at least given more time to develop.

That, unfortunately, is the main issue with this series: it really needed more time. With a plot as dense and complex as this, you'd think it would get more time to stretch out and get comfortable. 13 episodes is shockingly little, especially for an adaptation of a light novel series with over 20 books in it. It baffles me that Brain's Base (the studio behind this anime) didn't give this series a longer run, or even a second season. It certainly could do with it.

Still, this series makes the most of its short stay, like a tourist who insists on 'doing everything' on their weekend vacation to New York City. Every character gets a decent amount of screen time and a clear goal, and that goal is either reached or missed tragically. For a show with such a short run, its quite impressive just how much information and story is packed into its 13 episodes. By the end, I felt a connection to the key players, like we'd spent a whole afternoon together (which may or may not be related to me watching most of this anime in one afternoon).

All in all, I quite enjoyed Baccano, though I wish it was longer. The non-linear storytelling was a bit jarring at first, but didn't take me too long to understand. The characters ranged from hilariously stupid to genuinely cool, and each was entertaining to watch. At the end of the day, though, I only wish this series was longer. Characters like Ennis didn't feel like they got the time they deserved, and could've brought this series up from 'great' to 'excellent' if they had gotten more time to develop and explore.

I definitely recommend this series to anyone who hasn't seen it. Sure, its violent, bloody, confusing, weird, and ridiculously short, but it makes the most of what it has. We can only hope for a surprise second season announcement in the near future.

(Also this guy is the best character. I will not apologize.)

[redemn]

very soon after waking up this morning ,   i saw a video discussing high honour arthur vs low honour arthur which really put into perspective my own thoughts and feelings on arthur's actions and the motivations behind my own characterisation .   naturally ,   now i'm sitting down to ruminate over why i ultimately write arthur as higher honour instead of lower honour ,   or even middle honour .   thought you folks might like to know ,   considering i place huge importance on arthur's internal motivations influencing his external actions . thank you for reading if you do . x

first and foremost ,   most people ,   at least from what i've seen on the internet ,   do tend to consider high honour arthur with a lot more nuance than they do low honour arthur .   a lot low honour content i've had the displeasure of seeing tends to characterise him as being just purely evil and immoral in all tendencies ,   killing for no reason ,   not helping people in obvious distress assumably just because he doesn't want to .   not entirely my thoughts on this one :   a fundamental difference between high honour arthur and low honour arthur stems from their ability ,   and perhaps even their own desire ,   to take accountability for their own actions .   high honour arthur acknowledges that he has done something that has impacted someone negatively and acknowledges that it ,   perhaps ,   was wrong of him ,   whereas low honour arthur isn't evil ,   he just doesn't see his actions as necessarily wrong ,   and not something that needs reform .   he still holds the same frame of mind as high honour when it comes to the care of the gang ,   but he accepts his path is coming to an end and he's decided he cannot change anything .   "my path is coming to an end ," he says to reverend swanson ,   while high honour arthur ,   interesting enough ,   says ,   "i'm worried my path is coming to an end" during that conversation .   high honour arthur realises he still wants to make a right in the world  …  and that he won't be able to .

now for my thoughts :   in the context of the above ,   my arthur is incredibly aware of how his actions impact others a majority of the time ,   and once he does ,   sometimes   ( but not every time )   works to rectify the wrongs he committed ,   even if his payback doesn't even come close to the bad that he did .   it will never come close to the wrongs he committed ,   and he knows that ,   but he tries .   i actually write arthur as lower honour earlier in his adult life ,   when he doesn't have as much experience and he's enjoying life for what it is before he gets hit with all those bad experiences and that trauma ,   whereas once he starts seeing the world for what it is around the time of rdr2 ,   his honour begins to climb around then to the point where he's pretty high ,   but not max ,   honour .   that sounds like a really superficial way of putting it :   the honour mechanic is far more intuitive and nuanced than simply   'he killed a lot of people and went on a 50-person massacre in st denis'   even though lots of people only see it that way .   sometimes he sees what he does as wrong .   sometimes he doesn't .   depends on the situation .

what i'm trying to say is ,   he's more reflective of his actions as more bad things happen to him ,   which in itself is a somewhat selfish reason to be doing good .   being hit with karma does that to a man .   he knows he cannot make up for everything he's done in his life ,   but he still strives to try and right what he can before his time is up ,   because he knows he can make a difference in a small way .   he's seen it himself in the way he helped that german family flee ,   in the way he helped the black travelling doctor get his wagon back ,   in every small task he does for strangers .   he takes accountability as much as he's able ,   for those things he thinks he was wrong about :   ie ; blindly collecting the debts ,   even going so far as to doom a man to death for pennies on the dollar .   as i've said before .   i do not believe the term 'good man' is quite true when it comes to arthur .   moreso that he is just a regular human being that does good and does bad ,   and he's done a hell of a lot of bad that gives people a hell of a lot of justified reasons to hate him .   he's not perfect .   but he knows .   and he's sorry .

[mas-o-kissed]

Buddy Jett supposed it should be grateful for how its final audit had gone. The old Buddy had never had much ambition when it came to things like promotions. He never would've climbed the corporate ladder on his own. Instead, he'd been shoved into an elevator that only seemed to go up. The heights were dizzying.

The old Buddy also wouldn't have applied for this kind of position in the first place. He would've hated the idea of being a corporate stooge. Not that government stooge had been much better, but at least he'd been comforted knowing that those companies had to cough up a few more pennies towards the public good because of him.

The new Buddy wondered sometimes why it had been allowed to recall its past so freely. There was no shortage of imployees and impterns that seemed to have no memory of who they were before they joined the company. Was it simply because its old work experience was still useful here? It did feel good to be useful. Its eyelids fluttered dreamily at that thought.

Still, remembering its old attitudes and beliefs felt... Risky somehow. Like it was getting away with something it shouldn't. It didn't want those unapproved ideas to gain a foothold again. If they did, there was every chance it would have all of its thoughts washed out of its brain, not just the troublesome ones. If that happened, it wouldn't be as useful to the company.

But that was only part of it, if it was being honest. As thorough as Buddy's imployee onboarding had been, it was learning even more on the job. Creating a believable paper trail to satisfy its former supervisor had been an interesting process. Despite the frankly abysmal state of the company's actual bookkeeping, the list of social contacts was much better kept. It didn't take long to find people who were tangentially involved in the company's various projects and then bend their ear (and their will) until they'd vouch that, yes, the inordinate amounts of money spent on genetic engineering equipment was definitely a business expense. They couldn't say what it was for, of course. Legally and mentally binding NDAs and all that. As helpless as Buddy had felt in the Boss's office chair, there was something satisfying about bringing someone else's mind to heel. Power corrupts, but Buddy was learning that corruption also empowers. Impowers?

It knew that authority was only borrowed, that it didn't even control its own mind anymore. But that didn't mean that it was keen on losing more of itself than it strictly had to. It just needed to keep those pesky old morals in check somehow.

But first, to business. It knocked on the door to the Boss's office. "Report's ready for you, Boss. Do you have a minute to go over it?"

(Big Boss Imp is laying across his desk, his head facing the door from an upside-down perspective. It looks as though he had been doing absolutely nothing, just staring into blank space with a placid expression on his face. Still, when he hears the knock on the door, he gives a start, blinks, and grins.)

My Little Buddy!

(He rolls over, now facing his new employee right-side-up, so he can rest his head on his hands. He kicks his feet in the air playfully.)

I’m so glad you came to visit me. I was just coming up with some new augmentations that I think you’d really enjoy. Tell me, have you ever had clockwork insides? Oh, I suppose that wouldn’t have been an option in your former life… well, it’s a lot of fun. You wouldn’t need to eat, or sleep, so you could work, work, work, work, work! You’d need some help winding the clockwork mechanism to keep you moving. (One time an unfortunate Imptern unwound completely in an unused section of the office and we didn’t find him for months! By the time we realized he was there he was alllll covered in dust. He’s fine. He works in operations now.) And anyway, you would look so so so so so so SO cute with a key in your back! Like a little wind-up toy. Wouldn’t that be delightful? Did you get taller? What are those papers? Is it fanmail? For me?

(He snatches one of the records from your hands.)

Oh. This has numbers on it. Is this what you came here to talk about?

[maxwell-mtv]

Sleepless Nights with Morris and Pierre (Stardew Valley)

Heyo! Do you have ✨insomnia?✨ Do you frequently find yourself up at all odd hours of the night, no matter how little sleep you get the night before?! Well boy, are you not alone because I wrote some handy-dandy headcanons of how those sleepless nights might go with the businessmen of Pelican Town! I included both perspectives of whether it is they who are having troubles sleeping, or if it's you who may be struggling. Here's a little disclaimer (as is usual from me):

[Disclaimer: As with all my headcanons, they're all based off my game play which involves the Stardew Expanded Mod and Marry Morris Mod (and possibly more I don’t remember downloading). In this scenario, Joja is still in business but Pierre and Caroline are now divorced. Trigger warning for alcohol, smoking, and hinted marijuana use. Please enjoy and let me know of any headcanons you'd like to see from me!]

🌆 Morris:

It’s sad to say there’s more nights than not where you can find Morris up at all odd hours of the night

Sometimes he’ll simply be pacing while other times you’ll find him slumped on the couch with a book he only can reread a single page on

Whenever you find him it’s one of two things: general anxiety or stress from his job

“What are you doing up this late?” He’ll ask you with a concerned scowl

“I could ask you the same.” You’ll retort.

“Fair point.” He never likes talking about his problems outside of surface level, everyday stuff. But when you can manage to catch him in his most vulnerable state, which happens to be on those nights where he’s especially distressed, he’ll confess what’s on his mind

With worried eyes, he’ll list off all that ails him and more, eventually divulging into a rant about how “kids these days never want to work! Back in my day…”

And so on and so on, until one of you stops him mid sentence to take a few deep breaths and calm down

“I have to do inventory with half the staff because Claire has some odd appointment to attend to and Shane is out on medical leave! How do they expect a staff of three to inventory an entire store and submit the numbers by tomorrow?” He’ll ask you in an exasperated tone, putting his head in his hands

It’s never easy to repeat the same routine nearly every week, but it’s what needs to be done. On the bright side, you now know how to decipher between whether it’s a non-caffeinated-tea or a classic warm-glass-of-milk night.

Although you may sometimes find him with a glass of scotch or whiskey in his hands when he goes through these spells, you try hard to shuffle him away from the potential alcohol dependency (thus the tea or milk being a frequent solution you provide)

On that note, if Morris is the one to find you awake with insomnia, he’ll quickly rush to the first solution he’s always known to work

Coming to your side, he’ll hand you a glass of something potent and tell you it’ll do the trick

After a sniff and sip, you’ll quickly realize what it is and you’ll scold him for trying to give you a stiff drink as a solution

“My father used to give that to me growing up and it always did the trick for me!” He’ll defend himself with that mischievous smirk of his

After his rejected solution of drinking till you’re too dizzy to stay upright, he’ll finally ask you what he can do to help, which usually leads to him simply sitting with you.

Sometimes he’ll take you on a walk around your farm and other times he’ll just do as you do with him so often and make you some tea to calm your nerves

Either way, he’s encouraging you to talk to him, if there’s anything in particular keeping you up

He will not push you to go back to bed but rather stay up with you, no matter how tired he is, until you’re ready to go to bed yourself

When and if you manage to feel ready to try and sleep again, he’ll walk with you back upstairs and make sure you’re comfortable and don’t need anything before he climbs back into bed with you

He’ll persist through his own exhaustion to make sure you fall asleep before he does

On the rare occasion, he’ll even gently trace the shape of your face with his finger while telling you stories from his work

If you ask him why he does this, he’ll try to avoid the topic, making it seem more ominous and creepy than it is

Eventually, he will tell you it’s simply something his mother used to do for him when he was a little boy to help him fall asleep

As soon as he knows for a fact that you’re out for the night, he’ll often say something more tender and sweet to you than he typically does. Some form of an “I love you” but with some extra vulnerability

🌇 Pierre:

It’s not often Pierre has a night where he feels completely incapable of sleeping at any point

He’ll often stay up later, yes, but he’s typically passed out by 2 in the morning

But on those rare, rare occasions, you can find him on the balcony, smoking a cigarette you didn’t know he had. Is that skunk you smell?

Getting up to see what was on the man’s mind, you’ll have to approach him gently, Yoba forbid you sneak up on the poor man and make him drop his smoke in surprise

“Oh hey,” he’ll glance down at you with a soft smile, “sorry, I’ll be back to bed in a minute. I just… need a moment.” He’ll turn his attention to the town square below

It’s almost a guarantee that the reason he’s up is something related to his sinking ship of a shop and Joja Mart’s hand in its downfall

Some nights he’ll just go off on a tangent about how big corporations shouldn't be allowed to exist and basically how it's not fair to more sustainable businesses like his

But most nights you two will just take in the night air of the town, taking in the serenity

After Pierre finishes his smoke he’ll come back to bed with you, holding you close as some form of comfort in an otherwise harsh reality

Sadly, if you’re the one up with insomnia, Pierre will hardly ever notice as he’s (for the most part) a heavy sleeper

But if he notices your absence from the bed, he’ll wait a few minutes before looking for you

He’ll first look in the bathroom, then the kitchen, and finally outside

The moment he finds you, he’ll put a hand on your shoulder and ask you why you’re not in bed

If it’s from anxiety? Buckle up because he’s going to sit you down (if you aren’t already sitting) to talk it out until he is sure you are okay

Believe it or not, he was the parent to stay up with Abigail when she couldn’t sleep at night

His dad-ishness sort of shines through in these moments

But he’ll talk you through things and calmly assure you everything will be fine

Once he manages to get you back to bed, he’ll hold you close if you let him

Despairingly, unlike Morris, he won’t be able to stay awake, let alone have the idea to stay up, until he knows you’re asleep. That man will be out like a light the moment his cheek hits his pillow and he pulls you into his arms

Rest assured, in the morning, if he even knew you had a sleepless night, he’ll be up early with breakfast and coffee ready-to-go!

[breakingdawnpt2]

What are you editorial gripes with Long Legs?

spoilers obviously

God ok so like I’m stupid and not good with words but like like all the nun shit with her mother needed to be completely cut. I feel like the nun imagery was extremely forced and existed simply to suit the marketing strategy? Also I would cut anything that textually confirms the existence of the Devil and that he’s the one killing families and girls through evil dolls with evil orb brains? The dark cloud in Lee’s room sprouting devil horns was way too much I just don’t find the Devil scary sorry it would have been much scarier if it was never explained how some guy was entering these peoples houses and killing them without leaving any evidence he was ever there at all. Some fucked up guy acting in the name of Satan is 1000x more effective than showing me a lousy cartoon devil that requires heavy suspension of disbelief as a not spiritually or religiously inclined viewer. and IF it was absolutely necessary that the mom was threatened and had to agree to be his accomplice in order to save Lee’s life, a lottttt more emphasis should have been put on the looming threat of her letting that motherfucker live in their basement and be anywhere near her daughter. I needed like a repressed memory of Longlegs brushing little Lee’s hair like a doll or some shit to emphasize how close her mother allowed him to get to her child in order to save her life, how the work of the devil is something her mother has ALWAYS feared (have you been saying your prayers Lee?) and because of that fear she obeys a minion of a force she is too meek to overcome

From an editing standpoint the sequence where Lee wakes up in the basement and climbs upstairs to a ringing phone it’s like, genuinely confusing and not well executed. It took me until I left the theatre to realize he had been living under her house? Maybe I’m just stupid but it should have been more apparent and the stakes of that fact should have been more dire. I also don’t know why there’s a sequence of cuts to random rooms in the house when the phone is ringing right in front of her. If you want to do a bunch of cuts to random rooms in the house that’s fine!!!!! But give us a reason to be looking, put the phone across the house and design the soundscape around where the phone is in relation to each room shot. Don’t pull the audiences attention away to shit that doesn’t matter when suspense is your most powerful weapon. Speaking of suspense,

DON’T SHOW HIS FACE SO EARLY oh my god for a movie with like an actual Make You Forget Childhood Trauma Orb you would think they could resist showing the audience the guy whose face our perspective character has been repressing until she meets him herself?

Ummm and with all that shit cut we would have spent more time with our characters. I didn’t need to find out so early that Lee’s birthday is the 14th, nor Ruby’s for that matter. I wanted to know more about Lee’s beliefs and memories and motivations I wanted to know more about Longlegs and his workshop and his motivations and establish a connection between him and Lee which makes us fear for her life even after he’s been caught. Have Carter reckon with a person who commits unfathomably evil acts in service of a greater power he doesn’t even believe in, have him see the evil enter his home with his own two eyes and test his un-faith. He wasn’t really a character he was a plot device to give us a family to care about lol

Well anyway maybe I should have chosen screenwriter in that poll idk that’s like most of it. I think it’s a good two thirds of a movie! Up until her mother walks onscreen in a fucking nun costume but then that puts the whole thing under a microscope for me and I can’t not see all the ways it could have been done better if the focus hadn’t been entirely on creating provocative images but had also been on creating a meaningful (and scary!) context around those images. The opening scene with Longlegs and the part where Lee’s partner gets shot in the face point blank were pretty good tho. I liked the shit where he leaves the birthday card in her house but I also don’t feel she should have been given the answer so fast. The performances were great and Cage made me laugh whether or not that was the intent. Alright bye