#executing an idea with limited time is hard A

[video-game-luvr]

80's themed Honkai Star Rail!

A/N: Let me cook! Let me cook! These prompts will be made into yandere fics, if you guys enjoy it, the smut will come eventually.. If you folks dig it! Just be patient and let me cook! I haven't ever posted actual fics or series so my work isn't the best but I still hope you bunch enjoy it nonetheless! Feel free to correct me or tell me if it's OOC! I am always open to improving! English was not my first language.

My ask box is open for ideas and thirsts! Maybe an 80s slasher theme next? A serial killer is on the loose! Who could be behind the mass disappearances!

Neighbourhood dilfy uncle Gallagher, who is friends with your parents... This prompt would also work so well with Jingyuan! Your parents just trust their friends so much, don't they?

Welt being that hot librarian with a mature charm. You can't help but gaze at his veiny and calloused hands, holding that book, and scrutinizing everything about the contents of the book.

Sneaking out at night to skate around with Caelus and Luka!

Dan Heng who is part of a band, as a bassist. Walking around everywhere with his headphones on. Talking about music with him, and him sharing all his favourite songs with you by giving you a custom made cassette! (Though it was probably pirated)

Going to a cassette store and befriending Dan Heng gives you butterflies. The usually cold and hard-to-approach Dan Heng was now your friend!

Gepard being the local heartthrob, he is such a sweet man, always helping his neighbours with carrying their groceries to their house. Funnily enough, this man is also really clumsy. Your mom asked for his help in changing a light bulb, only for him to fall over from the ladder, luckily he didn't get any major injuries from it.

More about Gepard, he is part of the baseball club! His broad figure and precise aim makes him perfect for it! Just about everyone has a crush on this brawny oaf! He is such a himbo. He can definitely do no harm!

Rock star Blade/Yingxing! It just makes so much sense! Especially if his band is punk, definitely an alternative band for sure, even if it's not punk. Just cheering for him with all your heart, and seeing him throw a wink your way.. Orz "Meet me behind stage." He mouthed to you. The cold arrogant star took a liking to you! Now this is exciting!

Ah yes, Sunday. The epitome of a perfect man. A role model for everyone in school. (Probably a preppy private school) His drive to keep things in order is commendable. All of his perfect execution as a school president isn't limited to the school. He also most definitely goes to church and organizes youth events, leading the choir, you name it!

However, under that flawless persona. Sunday is probably hiding some deep dark secrets. Who knows what that man is thinking.(It's giving... cult leader!)

Playing videogames with Caelus! Who has been your trusty neighbour for years! Your first encounter was him digging into piles of junk, you were really weirded out at first, and probably refused to play with him. But with enough nagging from your mom, you slowly warmed up to the idea of being friends with that weird silly neighbour of yours. From that point on, you guys started to play videogames together! Caelus has started to change over time, he seems to not be able to focus on videogames anymore.. His face oddly becomes red when he catches you gazing at his face. Without your knowledge, someone's love has started to bud and bloom. (He wants you so bad! You might regret befriending this weird kid!)

Himeko is the absolute hot aunt! The resident MILF! Every time she talks with your mom, you can't help but stare at how beautiful she is. She can't help but tease you about how adorable you look with that flushed face of yours. Your mother trusts her with all her heart. I'm sure she wouldn't do anything twisted.

Argenti, an art student. His vision of what beauty is is directly painted onto the canvas. He is incredibly passionate about his vision. A beautiful birth, a beautiful life, a beautiful end to life. He may seem a bit eccentric at times, but he means well... Right? (He is probably a cult member... Not Sunday's though. He is a follower of the path of beauty!)

[isjasz]

[Day 104- Day 9: Betrayal]

For the heart or for the neck

[soft-spooks]

LAYING on the floor staring at the ceiling etc etc

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hi hello! Idk if your request is currently open or not, but I'd like to request a fic where the Reader is a member of the Smiling Critters, they're still alive due to Catnap's fondness of them. They're on his side but hate it, only doing it in exchange that Dogday wouldn't get hurt.

With Catnap's permission, they would visit Dogday and give him whatever food they could find ( let's say Catnap still has some fondness for Dogday inside of him ) but with limitations.

You can change the idea into how you prefer! Thank you in advance :D

Ps. Mind adding a scene where Dogday calls the Reader " Angel " and reminisces about Catnap's fondness for both of them? I hope it makes sense, I just melt seeing Dogday calling us Angel :'D

Here We Stay

Note || KSJSJSJD I loved writing this, everything makes sense :D My apologies I took so long to write this! Kinda short too but UUHHHHH-

WC || 1,176

Sypnosis || being a member of the Smiling Critters meant you would’ve died one way or another, but you didn’t. Now all you can do is hope for the best.

One of the worst possible things could be corporate greed, even just having good intentions yet the worst execution is a plausible answer. Just how could you be forced into this situation? Trying to make things worth Catnap’s while is harsh, the only reason you knew you were alive right now was merely because he was particularly fond of you and DogDay alike. He wasn’t the same after the fact the Prototype’s reign began, you weren’t aware of much yourself, so all of this was just plain scary to you.

All your friends just disappeared and died, some of which you didn’t know was happening. You only got all that information because of DogDay.

You hated the circumstance he was put in, it seemed so painful for one’s legs to be severed and just hung up there the way he is now.

Repeatedly however, DogDay has assured you he didn’t mind being like this so long as you were in good health. He couldn’t bear knowing he wouldn’t be able to do a single thing for one of the only friends he has left. So many of his friends were gone already, DogDay would elect to die for you if it meant you would live.

Truth be told, you had only exchanged the peace you had before so that DogDay would not get hurt anymore then he already has. Catnap had full will and the power to completely end your life otherwise, you just were scared. 

Sometimes when you could, you would take a look at the broken clock that had somehow still worked like normal–and think about what time it would be in the day–Is it nighttime? How about daytime. Oh how you wished you weren’t subject to things the way they are now, all because of the wretched rules of humans and even the abject rulings of the Prototype himself.

Why would Catnap even view that silly toy as a god anyway? Perhaps that was for him to know, and for you to find out. Once, your life isn’t in any danger any longer. Just maybe it will be possibly any hour now, one can only hope. 

Trying to scrounge the Factory for any possible food was getting harder and harder every hour, one could argue it may be the stupid little mice stealing those last precious crumbs away. You would argue it would be the little Wuggies, those small toys were objectively brisk–and limpid too (colors so closely related within the walls of the factory, you forget sometimes they are even there).

You try hard to not forget where you are, in order to get back to DogDay with food for him. That was the only reason you were even anywhere else and away from your sunny friend, you would still be close to him any chance you get on account of Catnap’s permission. 

You wished otherwise.

“Ugh!” Groaning, you step over the possible weak spots that would have you falling through the floor. “There has to be food around here somewhere..” You mention, notioning to the fact you had now stepped into an office. There would be bound to be food here!

With an ounce of hope, you began scrounging the office for any possible heaps of food that you find. Ruffling through any drawers and papers, this office seemed to be a mess. You paid no mind to the messes anyway, there are bound to be messes since the last ten years in Playtime Co. 

“Success! Haha!” You triumphantly hold a bundle of donuts in your hand, “Take that Hour of Joy!” 

Winding down from your self inflated permeated success, you began making your way back to DogDay. You’d have to speak to Catnap to get to him first unfortunately, you always hated this part. Nonetheless, it was necessary.

You picked up the phone, already dialing Catnap to inform him of current conditions. You carefully had curated your words, you always did this when you spoke to him which ever way.

His deep voice rumbled soundly in your ears, “Food, for him?” 

“Yes.” You silently groan, kicking a benign rock stubble as you stand around while awaiting his confirmation. Why the hell was he so scary to you? Though, Catnap’s voice was oddly reassuring when he spoke without malcontent. For a moment, there was a long pause. 

You swore you could hear someone screaming and pleading to the giant purple cat; you felt bad for the unlucky victim that had crossed paths with Catnap.

“...” Then the phone hung up, you sighed a breath of relief that you could visit DogDay. Many things you would do for him just aside visiting, was having to loop in Catnap on whatever the contents of the material you would bring in hand with you. You knew the cat well enough his pause of silence meant yes. 

Well, you can go now at least. You don’t even want to recount the last time you had brought something to DogDay without telling Catnap. 

You stepped over the rubble that had led up to the heretic altar, you recognize he is one of the many dubbed a heretic, you truly wished he wasn’t in so much pain this way. Though immediately another thought crossed your mind.

This hallway needed some serious cleaning up to do.

A strained voice pulled you from your thoughts, “You didn’t have to bring anything my friend.” DogDay was being positive about you as per usual, you sighed as you stepped up to him then sat down as your legs were weary and tired. 

“DogDay we are friends, I’d do anything for you.” You motion, taking out a donut so you could feed it to him. Though in a rare few circumstances you were allowed to free DogDay’s hands so he could eat himself. Unfortunately it was not one of those circumstances. He took a willing bite, chewing it up as he savored it. 

For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to articulate anything, “Do you, remember how he was before… Angel?” DogDay was still mournfully thinking about Catnap’s old self, which he had every right to do. Knowing someone for as long as you would, then that someone changing so drastically–especially not in a good way–can be startling. 

You fed him another bite of the donut you held in your hand, “How could I forget? He was quite silent, sure enough. But he was always considering each and every one of us.” You nod with a tilted head. Oh, if you had the chance to turn back the clock and change things, you would’ve done it all in a heartbeat. 

Sincerely, you were scared. Scared for Catnap, scared for DogDay. All your possibly living friends you know are still alive. 

You grin slightly, wanting to alleviate the conversation and change the subject, “You might need a cleaning.” DogDay couldn’t help but bark–reminiscent of laughter–at your words. He shifted himself noticeably, most likely to bear the weight from one end to another. And remove the discomfort for a little bit before it would dare come back. 

“You may be right, my angel.”

"One can only hope."

[kkvqwrites]

"You're sure about this?"

Trying anal with Simon for the first time. That's it, that's the plot.

***NSFW! 18+, minors DNI***

Word count: 2,121

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, fem!reader

CW: explicit sexual content, anal sex, anal play, fingering, PIV sex, oral sex, unprotected sex, bedroom talk, praise kink, size kink.

a/n: I was lamenting the lack of fics about this specifically, when I remembered that that's what I do. Be the butt stuff fic you wish to see in the world, as they say. Also I'm sorry they keep turning out so long. Anyway, enjoy!

It was frankly silly how nervous you were bringing it up. You knew firsthand how positively filthy Simon was comfortable getting in bed, and had reaped the benefits on countless occasions.

To say he was a thorough and generous lover would be correct, but would also be an understatement. In the best way possible, satisfying you was treated like a mission and therefore executed with flawless precision and unwavering focus. In short, he wasn't done until you were walking like a newborn deer and didn't know your own name.

On top of that, despite being a meat-and-potatoes man in the sense that Simon didn't require any frills in order to enjoy himself, he was always down to try your suggestions and explore new ways to blow your mind.

And yet, despite all this, you couldn't meet his eyes as you mumbled your request, much to his amusement.

"What's got you all flustered, love?" he nudged you good-naturedly in an attempt to make you more comfortable.

"I want to try.... anal." You whispered that last part, but he heard it.

His eyes widened as he considered you carefully. This is it, you thought, he's grossed out. I pushed it too far. You two were silent for a few seconds, your face heating. You were about to take it back and say you were kidding when he chuckled, eyes suddenly alight with interest.

"Well why didn't you say so? S'pose we'd have to work up to it a bit..." he trailed off, eyes roaming your body. Clearly he was down to start practicing immediately if you gave the go-ahead.

He was correct; Simon was big, in every sense of the word, and you loved how he stretched you to your limits and made you see stars. Taking him in your ass wasn't going to be an overnight accomplishment. However, you knew how important it was to him to take care of you in all ways and trusted him implicitly not to rush things.

Pulling him in for a kiss, you gave the go-ahead.

_________________

It had started innocently enough. During a rather vigorous fingering, Simon's hand had slipped because of how wet you were and ended up accidentally breaching your other hole. It startled you, and he immediately checked in and apologized before continuing to make you squeal his name. He loved to overwhelm you with his mouth and his hands before letting you have his cock, loved how responsive and eager it made you for that final conquest.

What you didn't tell him at the time, both because it surprised you and because you were out of your mind with pleasure, was that you had liked it. A lot. So much so that you kept thinking about it for days after, the tantalizing idea weaving its way into your regular fantasies until it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You trusted Simon with your body, and you wanted him to have all of it.

Your play continued in much the same way, incorporating your ass into your other bedroom activities. It started with a finger, then two, while he sucked your clit until you couldn't breathe. You could tell by his low, throaty groan that he noticed how it made your toes curl and made your fingers tangle in his hair and pull hard. You could tell by how mercilessly he fucked you after that he liked it, too.

Toys came next, small ones at first designed to just get you used to the feeling of having something up there. The sensation unlocked a level of neediness you hadn't anticipated. Suddenly you couldn't have enough of him. Usually content to be his rag doll, all of a sudden you were pouncing on him seeking satisfaction. This thrilled Simon, who saw to it that you had a good selection of plugs that fit whatever the mood was when you decided it was that kind of night. His favorite had a little pink jewel on the end; it drove him crazy looking at it while he took you from behind. You slipped it in and wore it around the kitchen while you prepared his tea one morning, teasing him with the sight. Needless to say, you were walking funny the next day.

_________________

"You're sure about this?"

Simon's voice was husky with desire as he stood behind you and kissed down your neck onto your shoulder. You leaned back into his embrace, hips grinding into him of their own accord.

"Please, Simon..." you whined breathlessly as his hands explored your curves, riling you up. "I'm ready."

"Well, who am I to deny my eager girl when she asks so nicely?"

In a haze of kisses and intertwining limbs, you both found your way into the bed.

"Tell me again what you want me to do to you, you filthy little thing," he spoke into your inner thigh as he kissed and nibbled his way to his prize. Hovering, he planted kisses and blew light breaths around your pussy but refused to touch the spot he knew you wanted. He looked up at you, an unspoken directive in his expression. He wasn't going to give you what you were after until you obeyed. Bastard.

"I want you in my ass, Simon. I want you to stretch me and fuck me and - oh..." your words got lost as you felt his mouth close around your clit, sucking the way he knew you liked before pulling away with a wet smacking sound.

"Apologies, pet. You were saying?"

So that's how he was gonna be. No problem, you thought, two can play at that game. Rather than wait for him to continue, and certainly rather than give in and beg, you ran your hand in a slow line down your torso, stopping to tweak your nipple along the way. Simon sat still as a statue, eyes taking in your every movement with a greedy hunger. His lips parted once more as he watched your fingers slowly circle your clit, delicately caress your folds, and finally dip inside. With a luxurious sigh, you brought your fingers back up to rub small circles around your nub, biting your lip when it started to feel really good.

"I was saying," you said, voice becoming tight with pleasure, "how badly I want to feel you in every hole. I was saying how bad I want it, how I can't wait anymore, how-"

A large hand encircled your wrist, interrupting it from its task and pinning it to the bed beside you as Simon climbed on top, planting scorching kisses along your skin the whole way. When the two of you were eye level, he looked at you for a long moment.

"If it's too much, if I hurt you, you have to tell me."

A warm feeling spread in your chest despite the impatience you felt. You knew, in your bones, that he'd stop on a dime no matter the circumstance if you told him to. That he needed to know you would, needed to trust you the same way you trusted him.

"I will, I promise."

Seemingly satisfied, he kissed your forehead before pulling away. Gently and with great care, he positioned you on your stomach, propping up your hips with pillows until you were comfortable. Your breath hitched as you felt the bed dip under his weight behind you and felt his warm, strong hands cup your ass. Rather than linger there, however, his hands roamed lazily up and down your back. You sighed as you felt muscles relax under his touch, sinking further into the pillows and allowing your eyes to drift closed.

The lube was cold as it dripped between your cheeks, interrupting your cozy daydreams and making you jump slightly.

"Shit, sorry love."

"It's okay."

Your voice was small. You didn't know why, but you were suddenly self-conscious. This was it; this was the threshold. His finger slowly started to massage your hole in soft circles, loosening up the clenched ring of muscle and working its way in to the knuckle before pausing to let you relax around him. He waited for you to nod before continuing, adding a finger and grunting his approval at the moan that escaped your lips.

"That's it, open up for me," he coaxed as he worked his fingers in and out. Your hips began to move in time with his hand, a breathy whimper rewarding him each time his knuckles met your flesh. When he was satisfied and you were ready to tear your hair out in anticipation, he withdrew his hand. Just as you were about to whine in protest, you heard the cap to the lube bottle snap open. When you didn't feel it, you looked behind you to see him fisting his impressive cock, spreading a generous amount of lube from the tip to the hilt. You locked eyes with him, certain his dazed and hungry expression matched your own.

"Are you ready?"

You could only nod. As he brought his weight over top of you, you faced forward again, squeezing the pillow to keep still. Those hands, huge and warm and achingly gentle, spread you open.

"Such a pretty little hole. Can't wait to ruin it."

That deep, silky voice combined with his filthy words had you squirming despite your best efforts. You needed it now. As if sensing this, he nudged your hole with his blunt tip, gauging your reaction. You tensed on instinct, gasping. He was so big - this was never going to work. What had you been thinking?

Reading your mind once again, Simon planted a kiss between your shoulder blades, the warmth of his body enveloping you. His proximity calmed your racing thoughts and had you relaxing without even realizing it.

"Easy, love," he cooed into your ear. When he felt you relax, he pushed forward slightly, his tip invading you ever so slightly. Your face hit the pillow to muffle the gasp you couldn't help - your toys were nothing compared to this.

Simon eased into you with shallow thrusts, claiming you slightly deeper each time. The stretch was vaguely painful, yet exquisite. If he tried to stop, you thought, you'd lose your mind. Not that there was any danger of him stopping unless you said so; if you had turned around, you would've seen his lust-drunk expression, eyes locked onto where your most private hole stretched around his girth, his teeth clenched as he utilized all his discipline to keep his pace steady and slow.

Finally, what felt like an eternity later, his hips met yours. The two of you moaned in unison at the feeling of becoming one being, of being locked together in this obscene embrace. Simon stilled inside you, letting you adjust to him and letting himself adjust to the vice grip of your tiny hole. You felt so full, so naked, and yet so complete with him inside you.

"Good girl, taking me so well, good girl, good girl..." he chanted into your shoulder as he started moving again, truly fucking you the way you needed. It was nowhere near as punishing as when he fucked you normally, but it didn't need to be. The sensation of him filling you, again and again, had your thighs trembling in no time as you mumbled incoherently into your pillow.

Without needing direction - really, how did he always know?! - one of his hands reached around and began teasing your clit, causing you to throw your head back, finally letting him hear you.

"Simon, I'm.. I'm-"

"I know," he growled into your ear. "That's my girl, cum for me. Nice and loud."

As if he had cast a spell, your core clenched and throbbed as your vision went white. You could hear yourself, as if in third person, wailing his praises as you came undone.

"Fuckin' hell," he sounded almost pained as he thrust forward one last time, spilling himself deep in your guts with a delicious guttural roar. He collapsed forward, putting his weight on his arms to avoid crushing you as you both came back down to earth. When he finally moved to pull out, he trailed kisses down your spine and you gasped at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

"Was that alright? Are you okay?" He fussed as he cleaned you with a warm wet rag. You smiled and nodded, not willing to leave your pleasure-soaked haze and give a real answer. Vaguely, you were aware of him tucking you into the comforter. You had just about dozed off when he himself climbed into the bed, freshly showered and smelling of sandalwood and spearmint. Wordlessly, you rolled into his side and sighed as you sank into a contented sleep.

[calicough]

backbone – hazel callahan

— you helped rockbridge's divine pillar practice her receives.

volleyball player!hazel. libero!hazel. manager!reader. drabble!

it was around seven in the evening and you were all alone in the gymnasium, checking the inventory of the equipments that the players had helped you put away. coach and josie, the captain, would usually help you with the inventory but surprisingly, they both had to leave early because of their own personal reasons. nevertheless, this was your job as the manager of the rockbridge bottoms. the name was rather unfitting and contradicting as your team would always make it to the finals in tournaments whether it'd be regionals or nationals.

their practice game went well today and they've made a lot of progress in such a short amount of time ever since they lost the match against the huntington tigers a week ago. stella-rebecca had finally mastered a float serve. pj and josie successfully executed the quick attack that they were trying to imitate. sylvie had managed to break all of brittany's blocks much to her dismay, although brittany did multiple setter dumps which left sylvie dumbfounded. everyone was thriving today. well, except for one player.

you were about to leave the equipment room when the door suddenly flew open, revealing hazel on the other side, wearing the team's varsity jacket over her green shirt. you quickly clutched your clipboard to your chest, scared out of your wits. you never got used to the court at night as coach was always there to accompany you.

"sorry," she sheepishly smiled, scratching the back of her neck, towel draped over her shoulders. "i thought you went home already."

compared to the others, you and hazel rarely talked despite being in the same year. your conversations were limited to volleyball talk and her title as the divine pillar or the backbone of rockbridge falls didn't help when trying to converse with her. you just find her extremely intimidating especially on the court with her stoic face and sharp eyes, even though you've seen her fool around with the others countless of times.

"it's fine," you replied, releasing your hard grip on your clipboard. "i thought you went home already."

hazel entered the room and grabbed a ball from the ball cart. you're already finished with inventory so you didn't mind. as she was about to leave the room and into the court, she turned around and gestured the ball in her hand. "wanna help me practice?"

you didn't have anything planned tomorrow and you were not in a hurry so you shrugged and said, "why not?"

you stood on the other side of the net opposite from each other, bouncing the ball off the floor as you got ready to serve. hazel was known for her agility when it comes to receiving the opponent's ball especially in longer rallies, earning her the aforementioned nickname. but ever since that match against huntington, her receives in practice games were sloppy and delayed. you had an idea of what caused this but you didn't want to assume.

hazel was already in position with her jacket tossed to the side and the sleeves of her shirt rolled upwards, exposing her biceps. her knees were bent and her palms faced outwards. you bounced the ball at least five times before throwing it up in the air and hitting it towards her direction. her eyes and her body followed the ball's movement. as the ball descended, she lunged forward with her arms positioned away from her body, properly receiving the ball with her forearms.

"nice!" you exclaimed as you grabbed another ball from the cart that hazel helped you pulled out, doing another serve. this time, she was a second late and the ball bounced off her wrist. she made a sound of annoyance and only shook her head with a smile when she sensed that you were about to ask if she was okay.

"i'm fine. let's do it again!"

you nodded and grabbed another ball. she successfully retrieved this serve and the other two that followed until the fourth serve, in which she completely missed. she did a loud 'tsk!' sound out of frustration, wiggling her fingers and bending her knees as she readied herself for the next ball.

"again!"

your palm was sore from hitting the ball again and again. her usual bright blue eyes were much duller and more exhausted compared to the team's training earlier in the evening. hazel was still not satisfied with her receives, torturing herself mentally and physically. you've lost count how many times she dove or rolled to retrieve the ball. her whole body must've been hurting right now.

"hazel," you called out, concern evident in your voice as she went back to position again. "let's take a water break."

"no, i'm fine," she shook her head but suddenly made her way to you with worry in her eyes. "unless you want to take a break? we can definitely take a break." you just nodded and gave her a reassuring smile when she looked at you apologetically.

as you both sat down by the wall and drank your waters, you turned your head at her. her hair was disheveled, sticking to her sweaty skin. there were bruises all over her arms and legs, and a small cut on her right knee. you took a deep breath and asked, "are you alright?"

hazel was surprised and turned to you with wide eyes, gulping as she did so. "you seem... out of it lately," you continued. "is everything alright?"

hazel shook her head and let out a small chuckle. "no no, i'm fine... it's just..." she trailed off, her eyes looking at the floor as she sighed deeply. she then turned to you with sorrow in her eyes. "i can't help but blame myself for what happened during that game."

you knew what she was referring to. it was the last set and huntington was taking the lead with fifteen points while rockbridge was behind by one point. everyone was tired and their stamina was running out. "focus guys! you can do this!" you remembered cheering while silently praying for another deuce during an intense rally. but sometimes, things don't always go in everyone's favor; in hazel's favor.

"i could've gotten that ball," hazel groaned and sighed deeply, leaning her head against the wall and closing her eyes. "if only i moved fast enough... we could've won that game..."

"hey, it's okay," you reassured, putting your hand on her knee and patting it as an attempt to comfort her. hazel's eyes fluttered open and looked into yours. "look, i was also bummed that we didn't win," you paused, trying to find the right words to say as she waited in anticipation. "but it pains me to see you and the other players blame yourselves for something that you can't control. especially when you've played and dived for, like, every set. pretty sure your bodies felt really heavy to move."

hazel nodded as her unnoticeably tense shoulders relaxed. "yeah... i felt like a boulder."

the both of you giggled as you gave her knee one last pat before retracting it. "the good news is, we have more upcoming tournaments so..." you trailed off and playfully smiled at hazel.

"yeah, i'll give them hell," hazel laughed and mocked you with the line that you'd always say before games. "hey!" you laughed as well and crossed your arms, pretending to be offended.

after your laughter died down, hazel stood up and offered you a hand, pulling you up to your feet. "thank you, by the way." you both made your way to court to gather all of the used balls.

"no worries," you replied as you placed the balls back in the ball cart.

"hey," she called out. "after we're done here... do you wanna get some snacks?"

"i'd like that."

waaaaaaa i hope you guys enjoyed this one! and thank you to the people who voted on my poll abt hazel's vball position hehe,, + i apologize if there are any inconsistencies or if there's anything worng with how i described vball,, i only based it on my high school experience with volleyball and haikyuu T_T

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Title says it all! Pick the picture(s) that you're drawn to the most, then scroll down for their corresponding message.

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Pile One

What Needs Protection?

You need to be more private about the things that you're trying to manifest and any spell-work that you do. If you're in tune with your psychic abilities, then I'm getting that any plans in store for you that your spiritual team sends you messages about, KEEP THEM TO YOURSELF. It seems like anything related to the occult that you practice, needs to be discreet when it comes to family members, friends, and what you post on the internet. Knowledge is meant to be shared, but some things reside in the occult for a reason, your gifts, relationship with spirituality and the divine, is not for everyone's eyes to see or for any and everyone that you believe to be trustworthy. Even though no one can mess up what's for you in the end, protection is still needed to prevent any unnecessary drama from others trying to bring obstacles your way.

What Needs Exposure?

I feel like a lot of you are actually new in your spiritual journey and are receiving intuitive downloads or seeing more signs that remind you of someone that's no longer living, but very close with when they were still alive. Whether you are new or a little bit more seasoned in this journey there's this message to move inward in this path, some of you could still be on the superficial side of spiritualism which could be insulting to some of your guides because it's giving off the impression that you're in it for the aesthetic when there's an actual calling for you to partake in. There's a need to be more trustful with with your guides (god(s), ancestors, angels, etc) and to communicate with them more, as well leaving offerings for them. It's very important to build a connection with them instead of just leaping in with them to ask them for guidance and assistance for rituals.

Pile Two

What Needs Protection?

You need to be more protective over your time and energy! You know that quote "givers need to learn boundaries, because takers don't have any"? That's exactly the message that I'm picking up for this pile. There are attributes that you have that remind me of the sun, you're resourceful, regenerative, you create your own energy and produce your own light effortlessly that makes others gravitate towards you, but you must be careful with burning yourself out sooner with the way you're not limiting yourself on how much you give. People could rely on you for direction, money, emotional support, or even insight that they plan to take all the credit for. I'm sensing mainly that if you guys are creatives, keep your ideas to yourself, do not tell what you plan to create unless it is finished. Another is that some of you need to have more credence, you give away your visions and ideas because you don't believe you're capable of executing them yourself and you need to stop shortchanging yourself like that. I notice you guys keep saying "no" to yourself a lot on the things that could benefit you, try working on exerting that no onto the people that you should set boundaries with, especially if there's someone that you've been having a bad feeling about for awhile.

What Needs Exposure?

People in this pile have a story that needs to be shared. Whether it's autobiographical or fictional, there's something very personal that you've worked hard on in your life that needs to be public. Maybe you've triumphed over situations that would have broken other people, and the experience and wisdom that you've gained from this could inspire others who are going through situations that they feel that they won't make it out of. You may downplay what you've persevered because you it's something that you've adapted to, but what you may view as easy, can show people that when they encounter a big mountain, they don't need to be intimidated by the thought of how they're going to get over it, they just need to go around it.

Pile Three

What Needs Protection?

You're sitting on some tea that needs to be kept to yourself. Someone or a group of people could be trying to involve you in some mess, but you need to know that that drama has nothing to do with and that you need to stay out of it. Don't give in to the peer pressure of joining cliques, because that bond together out of gossiping about others, will not have long until they're turning on each other and you. If there isn't any drama that's going on, then there's a message for people in the pile who are going through a phase of wanting to impress others or do things for a person or a group who are either high in status or something else that you'd like you to be a part of. Your self esteem and individuality needs protection, do not place everybody on a pedestal or put so much of your faith into regular people. You may see yourself as the diamond in the rough thinking that you need someone or something to give yourself meaning, but that's the quickest way to fall into manipulation and a spiral of confusion about who you are.

What Needs Exposure?

Your ability to stand on your own needs more exposure. Maybe you have a parent or someone in your work/school environment that's underestimating you by believing that you're codependent and incapable of having a mind of your own with a backbone to follow it, but you gotta show these people better than you can tell them, that you're not someone to push around or someone to discredit when it comes to your accolades and the things that you've worked hard for. Maybe some of you are hesitant to make a certain move that involves parting ways with someone who's toxic towards you, but you have to acknowledge that you've lived a life before them and that you are safe and strong enough to create a life without them. And once you do, I feel like there's this boost of prosperity, positive attention, or a period of luck that you may experience as a confirmation that these people are not the reason for your success, you're blessed because you are, not because they were in your life, especially if they were creating blockages in your money and opportunities.

[cerastes]

I'm thinking back on my experience with IS2 and IS3 -- both as someone who loves the game mode on his own free time, as well as someone who has streamed hundreds of hours of both -- as, yeah, thing is, the most exciting part of IS3 was definitely the scramble to get the Week 1 Waves 15 clear. It gave an achievement in the horizon, something to strive for, a real endgame challenge that required team building knowhow, execution, and luck.

But after that, it never quite reached the same level of fun as playing or streaming IS2 consistently got. In a lot of ways, IS3 was an improvement, but so many things were half-baked, that you couldn't help but imagine the version where these ideas were legitimately fleshed out: The Light system exists almost exclusively as an extra layer of punishment, and the punishments associated with light ranged from "slap in the wrist" to "you got Metastatic and your 3 damage dealers have it". One particular IS3 exclusive enemy, quite the common enemy at that, requires you to build around it at higher Waves or just fight a constant uphill battle forever: If you don't have at least one source of air Stun, you're constantly at the edge of losing Lives or the run. One end boss, The Last Knight, suffers from Overwatchitis the way the entire gimmick it has is that it inflicts you with hard crowd control (freeze) for basically 80% of the map's length, which, yes, it's an entirely manageable boss, but god it's so mind-numblingly boring. And that's not mentioning that going for that boss can just be a bust at any time if you don't have a Gopnik Solution, further limiting your build options. Another boss, Izumik, while thematically sound, is another slog to deal with, needing around 6 minutes of dealing with a an actual ton of enemies while trying to prevent it from absorbing said horde of enemies before you can even start damaging it (and it's got baseline 150k HP, 2000 DEF, and 70 RES so it's not a fast deal, either) while regularly unleashing map-wide 8 second Stuns after it becomes vulnerable. It's just not fun to constantly have to deal with "oops your entire gang is hard CC'd" as a main mechanic while trying to whittle down what's already an incredibly durable boss. Of course, fun is subjective, but at least everyone I've asked, from my circle or otherwise, has agreed that it's a slog to have to deal with that.

IS2 wasn't without flaws, but I have a lot of fond memories running the most disgustingly crappy meme comps requested by viewers on stream, and never really thinking "this is straight up hopeless", sure, sometimes it'd be difficult because we had a straight up ass team, but that's all it was: Difficult. There's so much that can go wrong in IS3, and that's not necessarily bad at all -- it's a roguelike mode, after all, it comes with the territory and I would not have it any other way -- but at least, in IS2, whenever something goes terribly wrong, you still have things you can do about it, when things go terribly wrong in IS3, and the way they can go wrong without it being any bad decision of yours (such as oops! Metastatic on your key units) makes luck that much more punishing and thus outside of the player's agency in a game mode that otherwise demands a lot of execution and knowhow. Luck is more impartial in IS2, basically, while Luck mostly exists as either punishment or avoidance of punishment but very rarely as a benefit in IS3, and I hope IS4 is better about this because, look, I enjoyed IS3, but it very rarely reached the consistency of IS2 in terms of quality, in my opinion.

[kaeyx]

corrupting pm dazai

when he was in the pm he was already pretty fucked up, but he was way more vulnerable and i love the idea of taking advantage of that

you liked the idea of pegging him, but he definitely wasn’t. but in the end, if you wanted him to do something, he didn’t really have a say in it. he would complain with teary eyes about how it hurts, and it’s too much for him, but you’re dead set on making him cum this way. dazai sobbed the entire time, but ended up cumming pretty quickly. after he came, he looked up at you while you were pulling out and asked for another.

Okay so I got a little carried away uhh

Warnings: Reader is gn, mentioned as having a penis but it could be a strap, "cock" is always strap inclusive on this blog. Manipulation on reader's part, it's assumed that all parties are of age and this is strictly fantasy.

Yessss he's so fucked up but also so lonely. He had Chuuya, he had Oda and Ango, but who else? We know Chuuya had other friends, but Dazai is the demon prodigy, the youngest executive, one half of double black. If you read the light novels he's always described as a demon, a strategist, someone smart, cold, calculating. And then you look at him and he's... 16, 17, 18. That's a child. At his age I was skipping classes and crushing on Sans Undertale, and he's out there living on his own in a dump and killing people. He can't help but latch onto anyone who'll treat him normally. He wants to be a dumb teen, he wants to try new things, he wants to explore the world, and his body too. And if you're there, treating him decently, laughing with him and fussing over his injuries, he's already eating out of the palm of your head. I'm not sure about experience since he's had to have tried to kiss Chuuya at some point. Maybe they got smashed and had sex that one time, but I digress. He doesn't really know what he's doing. He knows he gets off to some weird, fucked up shit but he doesn't know anything about boundaries or safewording or the traffic light system or anything.

Logistics and morals aside this means you can pretty much convince him to do whatever you want. Treat him well, or just decently, kiss him and pet his hair, call him your good boy while you make him cum for the third time and he's crying into your chest, he'll love it. Whatever things he's nervous about trying you can just gently coax him into. He doesn't like to be naked? Okay, just take the coat off then. Just pop a few buttons open, lose the tie. With enough time he'd be scrambling to rip all his clothes off, eager to feel your hands all over his bare skin. Nervous about you sucking him off? Guide his hands to the back of your hair, kissing his hips and thighs and edging him a few times until he's pulling at your hair and rutting mindlessly into your mouth. It's just so cute to watch his hesitation turn to eagerness, all those soft limits becoming turn ons.

Dazai would be so nervous about pegging, poor baby. It's dirty, he's never had anything inside him, he doesn't think it would feel good, he doesn't want to. But you sigh and shush him, promising you know best and you'll make sure he feels really good. Working him up first until he's desperate, clinging to you and pouting, cock slapping against his tummy and leaking, painfully hard. You'd use just one finger first, being nice and letting him cum, praising him for doing so good, behaving so well, taking all your finger up to the knuckle. The next day it's two, and you spread him open a little while you edge him, kissing his chest and cheek. By the third day he's not protesting at all, lying back and obediently spreading his legs so you can work him open. He squirms as you press the blunt head against his entrance but you remind him that it'll feel good, that there's nothing to worry about and he wants to make you happy, doesn't he? Dazai pouts a little but nods, relaxing and letting you in.

You take it very slowly of course, since your cock is far larger than your fingers. Rocking slowly back and forth, sinking in more each time until your hips are flush with his ass and he's trembling, clenching around you. You lean over and kiss him, brushing the hair out of his eye, reassuring him that it's okay, he's doing so well, taking all of you so perfectly. Waiting for him to decide when you can start moving, sliding slowly along his walls until you find that one spot that makes him gasp.

You hadn't gone for his prostate before, just focusing on getting him used to something inside him before moving onto pleasure. Dazai cries out in surprise every time you move, his legs trembling, eyes rolling back, unused to the feeling. You decide to be nice to him and touch his poor cock, jerking him off in time with your thrusts until he's grabbing onto your shoulders and clenching around you desperately, spilling over himself. Once he catches his breath he looks up at you, face still flushed, and finally agrees: you really do know better.

Next time the goal is to not touch him at all, make him cum just from the fucking.

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hi everyone,

As I said earlier, I wanted to post more about ADHD burnout. I found an article that explained it pretty well. This excerpt is going to be long, so I apologize in advance:

ADHD Burnout

What is ADHD Burnout?

It’s possible that you’ve heard of Autistic burnout; however, ADHDers have a unique experience of burnout. Symptoms of ADHD burnout more broadly include:

Lack of motivation

Inability to concentrate

Guilt

Depression

Anxiety

Poor productivity

Irritability

Cynicism

The overlap of symptoms and comorbid conditions can make it difficult to identify when ADHDers are truly struggling with burnout, though.

ADHD burnout is often something a little deeper. It refers to the cycle of overcommitting and overextending that leads to fatigue in people with ADHD. It involves taking on too many tasks and commitments, and then the subsequent exhaustion that happens when we’re unable to fulfill all of our obligations.

Why do people with ADHD struggle with burnout?

1. We’re overcompensating and overcommitting

Growing up, many ADHDers experienced the crushing weight of expectation. Whether it was caregivers or educators, we were often told that we weren’t trying hard enough. It felt like we were always just shy of reaching our full potential.

In actuality, we were being asked to function like neurotypical children, and without adequate support for our ADHD brains and executive dysfunction struggles. This is where many of us internalized the idea that we were lazy, careless, or unintelligent.

These false beliefs can lead to overcompensation, in which we compulsively try to please people and make up for these “shortcomings” we think we have. We’re constantly striving, though the goal posts keep moving on us.

This tendency to people-please can be carried into our adulthood, and is a recipe for overexertion. It also makes it difficult to admit that we’re struggling, because we don’t want to let others down. This relentless effort to appear neurotypical is often referred to as “ADHD masking,” and can be a source of real fatigue for people with ADHD.

2. We feel guilty for resting

When we’re already combating a stereotype of laziness, many of us feel guilty about resting. It can feel easier to be in constant motion (whether we experience hyperactivity or not!) because it feels safer to be doing something than risk the judgment that can come with doing “nothing.”

We might even believe that if we were to allow ourselves to rest, we would never get anything done, because we would struggle to get started again (task initiation is a big struggle for us). The irony is that denying yourself rest is the quickest route to exhaustion, and can exacerbate ADHD symptoms. It can be hard to pump the brakes and practice rest when there are so many negative associations with it.

After a lifetime of being told to “try harder,” it can feel counterintuitive—sometimes impossible—to try less and rest more

3. We struggle to recognize our limits and set boundaries

Part of executive dysfunction means that we have trouble sequencing, initiating, and organizing our tasks — which are all symptoms of ADHD. This also means we struggle to estimate how much time and effort something will take, making it easy to overcommit by accident. We may also struggle with setting boundaries.

As people-pleasers, we were discouraged from having boundaries at a young age. We may struggle to say “no” for fear of disappointing others or being rejected (something we’re already sensitive to anyway; this is known as rejection sensitive dysphoria).

As we accumulate more and more tasks, it can begin to feel unmanageable, leading to the dreaded overwhelm-shutdown. This is a freeze response that can happen when we’re unable to begin or complete a task. This “stuck” feeling can exacerbate our anxiety and make it difficult to move forward.

How to avoid ADHD burnout:

There are some golden rules for preventing burnout that I think are crucial for ADHDers to remember. Here are a few:

1. Affirm your self-worth

Your worth is not dependent upon what you give to people, and your sole purpose in life isn’t to make everyone but yourself happy. As the saying goes, “Don’t set yourself on fire to keep others warm.” You are inherently valuable, regardless of how useful, productive, or helpful you are to others.

2. Practice saying “no” without apologizing

You can’t be everything to everyone, and your capacity is not limitless, no matter what your brain tells you. Give yourself full permission to say “no, I can’t,” “I don’t have time for that,” “I’m not available at that time,” and every other variation on that. You may disappoint someone, sure!

But you aren’t responsible for managing other people’s emotions.

3. Overestimate how much time something will take

This is a general rule that I find quite helpful. Take the amount of time you think something will take—and double it. It may feel absurd at first, but it’s better to overestimate than to underestimate, and this will help you get a stronger sense of your limitations.

4. Commit to rest

Notice I’m saying “commit to rest” and not “practice self-care.”

Some of us (certainly not me…) have turned self-care into another set of expectations we feel the need to fulfill. Let that go.

Instead, practice: laying down, daydreaming, deep breathing, and anything else that helps you reset.

5. Ask for help when you need it

It’s okay to struggle, and it’s okay to ask for support when you do struggle—whether that's therapy, your colleagues, an ADHD coach or a manager at work.

Workplace accommodations and school accommodations can also make a huge difference.

6. Drop the mask

Many neurodiverse individuals try to mask their ADHD and/or autism by not letting others see them sweat—but this doesn’t allow us the opportunity to be helped and supported when we need it most.

You deserve every resource you need to thrive—don’t convince yourself that you have to do this thing alone.

As always, the full article will be below if anyone wants to read it.

[fatuismooches]

greetings!!! this is the first time i've ever shared my idea to anyone, kind of worry but guess that i have to share it with you because your writings are so good and i love how you execute scenarios and ideas (literally awake all night scrolling through your brainrot 😭😭😭😭)

let me tell you that fragile!reader and dottore is what keeps me awake at night i love them so much, i literally read everything in the tags, the fluff and angst is SOO GOOD NGL.

so, angst/ no comfort (because i love tormenting myself (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆), fragile!reader and terminal lucidity - somebody suddenly became lively and conscious before their deaths. i see that you have written about fragile!reader whose memories are slowly deteriorating or slowly losing their eyesight. imagine one day, everything just come back...normal, the sudden recollection of memories, vision returned miraculously, no pain, no suffering, as if they were back to the days at Akademiya. they became gleeful, happy, full of live, no longer the gloomy, sick-ridden individual.

Dottore, of course, was surprised at this phenomenal, run more tests and check-ups just to be sure that we are actually healthy because there is no way we actually turn healthy after being sick in centuries. the segments however, especially Zandy, didn't think much about the whole ordeal. you are fine!! you can finally walking and running freely without being on life-support. your turn in health manage to turned them into a bunch of joyful, blue-haired maniacs with giddy, happy smiles on their lips.

we are fine for a few weeks, which also make Dottore himself believe that maybe, maybe his efforts have paid off, maybe our health have been stable, and maybe from now on, he could spend the rest of eternity with his beloved.

then we die (this is so mean i'm so sorry 😭😭😭😭😭). how they perish is completely up you but i'd preferably that they die in their sleep, a peaceful death. Dottore and the segments are... well, shocked is an understatement, their whole world have...gone, they'd question themself: how can this happen? you were fine in the past few weeks? In which Dottore blame himself the most, he shouldn't have believed that we were fine, he should have run more test, he should have been more cautious about the whole situation but now he completely felt... helpless, for the first time in millions of years. the only person who went thick and thin, the person that can tolerate him in the Akademiya days and the person that he can tolerate now have passed away.

(the ending is kind if short because idk what else to say since my vocabulary and grammar is rather limited. i hope this would be sufficient 😭😭😭😭😭 also looking forward on how you react to this. for now i'll just cry myself to sleep with this scenario while waiting for your work ❤️🥰)

- 🪷

It would come out of nowhere, no one expected it, no one believed it in the beginning. After all, over four hundred years of debilitating illness makes it hard for anyone to believe something good finally happened. But it does, when you first wake up you can feel that something is different - you definitely do some test runs in your room, picking up objects that were once too heavy for you, simple actions that no longer left you tired, no more aches or pains, it was marvelous. So obviously with your newfound energy, you sprint out to find anyone, hell even a random agent would do, because you're finally free. (You can already hear the voices of the segments - no running in the lab because of the very obvious dangers.)

Naturally, Dottore is very skeptical of this, yes, he does not trust how his heart beats at the sight of your glowing self putting on a little performance for him to show how healthy you are now, he can't bring himself to. He's witnessed how low you could become from the worst stages of your sickness, so although he's more than happy to see you well, the possibility of you falling back into such a state is very high. However he cannot find anything, and you don't show any visible signs either. Even so, he still watches you very closely. It's a feeling that always nags, one that may always nag him perhaps, the thought of you becoming worse. But he's not going to damper your mood with his thoughts, you should enjoy this.

Dottore and the segments would still scold you for your recklessness but realize that you are no longer sick and frail and they no longer have to fuss over your health. It's a very strange sensation that's hard to break out of since they've been doing it for so long. But it's good! You're happy! You're strong! You're the [Name] that was buried away, come to rise to the surface once more. Let's just say Zandy very much enjoys the piggyback rides. The checkups still persist as a general measure, but they always go smoothly. It seems there's nothing to worry about.

You would want to assume your role of his assistant once again right away - it's something you've been longing for, to be able to be useful to your lover just like how you once were. To live those days of banter and sharing fascinating knowledge and listening to each other's ideas once more. And so you do, Dottore's more than happy to let you, oh how he's missed you by his side so often. He's excited, he's ready to put the past four hundred years behind and move on, his mind already racing with the countless possibilities that have opened up now. Unfortunately, they don't come to fruition.

Perhaps you felt something wasn't right but it was already far too late - on the day of your death you acted like everything was normal, carrying out your new duties, but also with a lot of added affection, visiting each segment and Dottore and kissing them with all your love. They don't think much of it, you're usually affectionate like that. If only they knew that would be the last time they were embraced by you. Little Zandy too - it would be the last time you ever hugged him and listened to you read him a story. He'd be absolutely inconsolable after your death.

With you gone, the spark in his life would be gone. It would be the same routine of his duties and experiments and research, with nothing to ease his tension. Sure, he no longer has to spend lots of time finding a cure or producing medicine, but this wasn't the way he wanted it to happen. It's the same as when you were sleeping, except this time he no longer has the anticipation of you eventually waking up. Or does he?

Resurrection is a forbidden art, but he is Il Dottore, the one who has no problem sinking his hands into what should not be done, and he is Zandik, the one who loves you. If this world wants you gone so badly, then so be it. He will simply reach for your hand and pull you back to him every time, because even if it is lifeless, he will make sure it's warm once again.

[ghelgheli]

17! but also using the opportunity of the ask game to get to know more about the effortless worldbuilding in sff :)

from the end-of-year book ask

17: Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

I think Three Body Problem is the only one meeting this condition this year so I'll have no trouble staying on topic :> but I'm gonna specifically talk about "hard" SF as I conceive of it—I haven't read any analysis so this may just be a jumble of improvised thoughts.

SF, being "speculative" fiction, of course has to take on the problem of speculating and of presenting things that don't (and perhaps cannot) happen. On average this is accomplished thru a healthy combination of scientific grounding and good-natured handwaving: I drop a few sentences about "quantum entanglement" and you go along with my ansible, or you tell me about "positronic circuits" and I agree that you can make a brain with them. This is the compact that makes SF work because you fundamentally cannot expect speculation without, well, ceding ground on reality.

But at least a subset of SF readers are of the kind to really want to grok how it is that this or that scientific feature of the world works or may come about. Every contraption and novel technology is like a puzzle to be riddled out. This is the place where speculation becomes sincere mechanical prediction, and it's why I love hard SF.

This subset of readers can be matched to a subgenre of writers who commit fully to filling in as many blanks in their technological, biological, etc. speculation as possible. The rows of astronomical data can't be left vague—tell me what frequency of light we're dealing with here—xenobiology isn't taken for granted—what is the neurology of your aliens??—and so on. The dots are connected, the rest of the owl is drawn for real, the image is made crisp. Like fireworks for the reader's brain.

When this kind of worldbuilding is executed well imo it looks effortless. Looks, not is, because behind every explanation of near-c travel is hours of research into at least special relativity and time dilation, along with calculations by-hand. Behind every account of an exoplanet's atmosphere is probably a few papers perused on the subject and several articles on scientific american. Peter Watts, in the note at the end of Blindsight, includes a fucking bibliography of a hundred or so references as well as thank-yous to many an academic he split handles of liquor with. And this is only the visible fragment of what has to be a library of knowledge accumulated both passively and actively to make a speculated world feel as concretely plausible as possible.

None of this is necessary for good SF. The aforementioned compact means any author can opt out of this commitment at any time. But it's what it takes to make tightly-written hard SF, where your conceptual hands are kept diligently at your side, waving an idea through maybe once every five chapters when you have no other choice.

So anyway, Three Body Problem is a tour de force in doing this and doing it cleanly. It uses a storytelling device a lot of hard SF employs to make it work: rather than stuffing dense exposition into narration (at which point, just read the source papers) it deploys a cast of characters who more than anything else, really know their shit. We get exposition trickle-fed through experts who are trying, along with us, to make sense of their novel environments and unfamiliar technologies using their knowledge of the present limits of human understanding. This is what Watts does in Blindsight too, by the way: a claustrophobic ship crewed by technical specialists makes first contact, so everyone has something encyclopedic to say about everything and it's only natural.

What astounded me about Cixin Liu's writing is that he made it work just when I least thought he would be able to. I was sure I was being shown things completely inexplicable and necessarily supernatural until he went and explained them in plain terms; better yet, he explained them in ways that made so much sense in retrospect that I was kicking myself for not seeing the answer. This has exactly the flavour of a good puzzle.

The trade-off hard SF makes is that you are often limited in the metaphorical/thematic work you can do through your speculation. I think the contrast between "calendrical science" in Yoon Ha Lee's Machineries of Empire series and Asimov's "psychohistory" illustrates this well.

Yoon Ha Lee has mathematical training, and calendrical science is a speculative field consisting of theorems, conjectures, proofs, etc. in the language of mathematics that stand in for cultural hegemony and power projection. This makes for a great operationalization of soft power: space is filled and distorted by the quantifiable effects of whatever regime is dominant there (the "calendar" here being synecdoche for culture writ large). But obviously he can't fill in the blanks of how a calendar causes spacetime distortions that specifically make one side's weapons more effective, or provide certain formations with shielding effects. This is, I guess, semi-hard (lol) SF—you can see how it's supposed to work, but it's clear that it just won't. What you get in return is pretty politically interesting storytelling.

Psychohistory is the converse: a deterministic-enough lovechild of economics and sociology explained in the Foundation series as using all the familiar methods of linear algebra and differential equations together with unfamiliar innovations of just how to quantify human behaviour in order to make reliable predictions. There are entire chapters dedicated to explaining the conceptual nuance that went into developing psychohistory ("the hand on thigh principle" from prelude to foundation is just about how the theory resolves divergence by reducing insignificant terms to zero) and an entire book to exploring one of its limitations. It's fascinating to read. But you also get little narrative depth out of it, because hard SF, even when done well, is not guaranteed to make a story thematically interesting or politically compelling. This is the Three Body Problem problem too: its political commitments are threadbare and unserious because that's just not what it's about. I couldn't recommend it on those terms, but that's not what I like so much about it. I will say the conceptualization goes a little off the rails in the final chapters, but I think most SF authors were in some kind of string theory inspired fugue state at the time.

What I would love to see (and I'm sure exists) is hard SF that also has interesting politics. Unfortunately that's an intersection of two already-narrow intersections.

ty for ask✨🐐

[otterskin]

Otterskin Recs: Blue Eye Samurai

Premise: A 'half-breed' samurai with blue eyes, possessed by an evil spirit of vengeance, cuts her way across the land as she seeks her father - one of only four white men in isolated Japan. For the crime of her own miserable existence, she will execute him.

Oh yeah, it's good. This may be sacrilegious to say, but...

American Cartoons < Anime < American Cartoons trying to be anime

Somehow, that last thing can overcome the problems the first two things are usually crippled by. BES is one such incredible show. It's well-paced, designed for the screen first and foremost, builds on its continuity and has occupied my thoughts for a week.

Thanks to that excellent pacing, it was very hard to not binge the whole thing. I only made it till episode 4 by watching one at a time, and then binged the rest with only a sleep to interrupt it. Its influences range from Samurai Champloo (naturally) to Hellsing Ultimate to Shogun by James Clavell to Kill Bill to maaayybe The Last Samurai. I've no idea how accurate to Japanese history it is, but even with all the ultra-violence and impossible physical feats, I did feel very grounded in its version of 17th century Japan.

The storytelling is compelling, the characters complex, the action exhilarating, and the voice-acting impeccable. Particular kudos given here to Maya Erskine as the titular character, who manages a convincing androgenous voice that is meant to come across to others as emotionless, but must convey all kinds of emotional information to the audience - for an entire show. That is no easy feat! The work of Randall Park as Heiji Shindo was also a favourite, managing to juggle menace and comedy. Even in the character's darkest moments, he is first and foremost entertaining.

Believe it or not, I did not at first realize that Abijah Fowler was played by my own beloved Kenneth Branagh! I should've realized it when this despicable character was so instantly charismatic, ha ha. As good as everyone else is, and they are all excellent, Branagh's menacing Irishman is the most interestingly performed, with small inflections and lilting menace that makes this odd duck out a protagonist of his own terrifying story. In a world of propriety and performance, only he and Mizu, the Blue-Eyed Samurai, are honest about who they are and what they want.

However, my favourite character of the show is probably Akemi. To avoid spoilers, I'll simply say that she's a competing protagonist and much-needed counter-balance to Mizu's story. She enriches the story with her perspective and experiences, which is a necessary thing when the protagonist is so laser-focused on a single goal. It is through Akemi's eyes that we actually come to understand the world and how it works, before Mizu ruthlessly slices through it.

The one fly in the ointment is that the CGI animation can't always keep up with the show's ambition. It's nowhere near as good looking as the impossible Arcane was, but once you accept its limitations, you get used to it. The animation also increases in quality as the show goes on, which means it only gets better! There are all kinds of dynamic camera movements and creative cinematography to make it engaging, too. My favourite was the use of a bunraku puppet show intercut with a flashback, which is interesting on several levels, not the least of which is realizing that since this is in 3D, that these animated characters are also puppets, of a modern kind.

I recommend this show for fans of Claymore and Afro Samurai in particular. It's violent, dark and carnal, but unlike so many anime that are so, it has excellent writing for its female cast and the wider story. This is the rare 'adult animation' that is actually for mature viewers, who expect mature writing and sensibilities.

Give it a go. And let me know what you think!

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Manga Review: Schemes and Heroes

Yup, this is the long-delayed review of updates 235 and 236, variously numbered as chapters 190-1 (Cubari) or 188-189 (Viz, Tonarinoyj). I've made several starts but somehow, never got far.

Summary: Slowly, then all at once

That's how bankruptcy is supposed to happen: the trouble sneaks up on you, and then suddenly, it's all falling apart. When it comes to the crisis of confidence that the Hero Association is facing, they've realised that they're in some bother since they're now struggling to get new recruits. However, things are about to get a lot worse.

We have Child Emperor, spurred by disgust and frustration at the Hero Association's faults and unwillingness to address those flaws, all topped with rage about discovering the pun that his hero name is, who has left the organization for the Neo Heroes. He's announced his new hero name, now known as Wild Emperor.

Zombieman has gone to consult Dr. Genus about possibly removing his limiter like Saitama has. He's concerned for Isamu's well-being and Genos's testimony is one he can't afford to ignore. The doctor has agreed to show him something interesting in the basement.

There's no question that the Hero Association is in deep trouble. We'd seen in earlier chapters that they were struggling to recruit new heroes. Now, we're beginning to see how they lose existing heroes. We see Snek given a brief to investigate a monster attack on a donor, only to learn from Isamu that the monster is long caught as it's one of the many monsters sold as exotic pets. Far from being an investigator trusted to handle a delicate cold case, Snek has been given some busy work. To say he's unimpressed is an understatement.

They still seem to imagine heroes grow on trees the way they're treating the most loyal ones.

More seriously, as Amai Mask tells the executives gathered to discuss the problem of heroes defecting, the executives have ignored Isamu's recommendations to address the shortcomings. He's got an idea other than ditching the HA: raise a hero to serve as a standard-bearer to inspire heroes to join and recommit. It's a great idea, but his choice of Saitama is going to be a hard sell from the get-go. Still, he gets the go-ahead.

We know that 'perfect' and 'Saitama' do not go together. Amai is about to find that out the hard way.

The next chapter starts at another meeting of the executives. And another shock defection. This time, it's not a hero, but Sekingar, who returns his HA-provided artificial eye and hand. He says that he's going to the Neo Heroes as their organisational details and plans for hero development are superior. He stands his ground and counters McCoy's accusation of his jumping ship to sell HA secrets to the Neo Heroes with some shade of his own, saying that he's a company man and knows no one trusts a traitor.

All starts to make sense once Sekingar picks up his new equipment and establishes comms with Wild Emperor. This is all part of a plan to infiltrate the Neo Heroes, find out what they're up to, and assess whether it poses a threat to heroes. Sekingar exits the lift to go out to the pick-up helicopter, only to find Metal Bat waiting for him. Metal Bat will be joining him as his body guard, after having been asked to do so by Sicchi as a favour. Since Sekingar is someone who has earned Metal Bat's respect -- not to mention going into danger like a hero -- he's only too happy to do so. The pair make their way to the Neo Hero chopper.

The earned trust and respect between those two is wonderful to see.

Changing topic, there's another not-quite-a-hero guy we've yet to hear about. Garou. We start out with a glimpse of what the Bang dojo dynamics must have been like. Toxic! He's back, and he's starting right where he's left off, terrorising Charanko. Bang quickly puts an end to it with a knock to his head and puts him to wiping the floor. Working his way up from the bottom of the pecking order is the only way to be accepted anew, Bang insists. Soon, it's time for Garou to head out to his court-ordered part-time job. Even as he grumbles about having too much to do, there's an eagerness and lightness to Garou as he heads off to earn money. The dojo sees him off.

Charanko settles down to relax at last, only to be shocked to see King come pay a visit. Inside, King tries to explain his current predicament to Bang, telling the old man about the near-miss he had with Atomic Samurai the day before. Unfortunately, between the old man's hardness of hearing, King's roaring heart beat, and how much King is muttering, Bang can't hear it. Finally, desperately, King shouts, 'Please make me stronger.' And that is where we end the chapter.

Shall we have some meta then?

META

Self-Efficacy

I love it when characters help themselves. There was a time that I nearly quit watching One-Punch Man: it was in episode 9, when despite everyone's efforts, the Deep Sea King had not been checked, and then Saitama dispatched it with one punch. I felt acutely depressed rather than elated or relieved: what was the point of a series where only one character's actions mattered? Thankfully, I gave it one more episode and the other S-Class heroes started getting introduced, with Tatsumaki showing that she was far from chopped liver. Good. The manga has more space, and it has given characters the opportunity to try more ways of understanding and trying to solve their predicaments, and I. LOVE. IT.

Carefully weighing up the threats and any opportunities this new thing poses rather than simply reacting.

I've Got My Eye On You

Sorry, I'm allowed one Dad Joke a day and today's your turn for me to set it upon you. The sight of the two one-eyed men casting sidelong glances at each other, sizing each other up, and each daring the other to come clean was splendid. McCoy has put himself in a great position to do harm to the Hero Association. He's the vice chief of operations and has made himself seem indispensable in these frightening times. He may be up to evil dealings -- and in chapter 188 we've seen that he's actively set up Amai Mask to fail and is colluding with the Neo Heroes, but he's nowhere near as untouchable as he thinks he is. It's good to see Sekingar and Isamu working together to thoroughly understand what McCoy is really up to and what the Neo Heroes' true intentions are, rather than simply jumping on the first evidence of wrongdoing and losing their leads. I'll come back to this in a sec.

However, McCoy knows that Wild Emperor is onto him, and what with having suggested the Neo Heroes to Sekingar in the first place, is sure to be wary about Sekingar's true intentions. This isn't going to be an easy mission for either of them. I have no doubt in the strength of Metal Bat's arm, but man, he's a little too open for a mission, isn't he?

They know each has dirt on the other. Who will crack first?

​

A Hero Is As A Hero Does

What I love about the cover of 189 is that it features people who act heroically whether or not it's in a capacity traditionally known as 'hero'. This pair of chapters has really been bringing that out. Sekingar's frustrated heroism is finding an outlet in looking out for heroes, even at risk to himself. Sicchi may not want to be a hero, but his unwavering concern for the well-being of humanity and willingness to find ways to use his position to help those who can make a difference shine here. He's a good boss. King and Saitama over in the distance need no explaining. And as for Garou, even as he's not willing to admit it yet, he's a hero through and through.

Speaking of Garou...

​

The Years Come Off, What New Experiences Will Grow?

It really disconcerted a lot of fans to see Garou be the slightly immature teenager he actually is rather than the young man he's been posturing as. Despite how he's being knocked around, there's a lightness to Garou which just goes to show how heavy the burden he'd placed on himself as Fixer of the World was. I've ranted before about Bang's style of dojo management -- the idea of being able to punch down definitely came from him.

Apples don't fall far from trees, after all.

It's not just Garou who has gotten a second chance to do better, but Bang as well. Between Garou and the former disciples who have started coming back, there are a lot of people looking to see if he'll do right by them this time. I hope he's up to it.

King? Eh, I'll leave his tale of woe to the next review!

​

Small Note

How did you know that? Why are you telling me this? These are questions that ONE takes the time to scrupulously ask: knowledge doesn't come to one just because one is smart. It has to have a source, and that source has to have a reason for sharing it with you. It's really nice to see that Phoenixman's knowledge of the Hero Association's backroom dealings comes from having been a previous captive.

I spy with my little eye, a little monster not all growed up yet

[mariana-oconnor]

His Last Bow

Hey Tumblr,

I have 0 idea what happens in this story. Kind of hoping it's a bit like Curtain, the last Poirot story, because that's a bop. Well, it's very depressing, but I love the solution. Although I also really hope it isn't, because then Agatha Christie would have copied that and I really don't want that to be the case.

I also really want ACD to have done something insanely over the top and decisive to make it really clear that this time there would be no retconning. Like... idk, the world being invaded by aliens. Sherlock Holmes stealing the crown jewels and being executed for treason. Mycroft turning out to have been a double agent all along and destroying the entire British Empire.

I'm no longer feverish, although my lungs are still trying to propel themselves out of my body in a way that keeps leaving me a little asphyxiated, so that's fun. But no jellyfishifters this time I expect. Or sea turtles... Yeah, Idk either.

It was nine o'clock at night upon the second of August—the most terrible August in the history of the world.

Oh Watson, you sweet summer child. I bet I've seen worse Augusts. Even if Holmes does die in this one.

The sun had long set, but one blood-red gash like an open wound lay low in the distant west.

London... is now... a hellmouth?

Are we not in London? Is that the city from a distance. Where are we? Why is the sky split open? What is going on?

The two famous Germans stood beside the stone parapet of the garden walk...

The only two famous Germans. Ever. You know... those two.

Oh, so we're actually in the 'Sherlock is a spy' period. Weirdly I assumed that that was only going to be referenced. But no, we're actually going there.

So the red line is... the war front?

One of these was his present companion, Baron Von Herling, the chief secretary of the legation, whose huge 100-horse-power Benz car was blocking the country lane as it waited to waft its owner back to London.

Is the Baron compensating for something? Maybe.

But we're not in London and we're not near the war front, so... what is that red slash in the sky. Is it London?

This is probably not the mystery I am meant to be trying to solve. I should pay more attention to the espionage and less to the environs.

“They are not very hard to deceive,” he remarked. “A more docile, simple folk could not be imagined.”

Someone has not been down the pub when the home team is playing. Hoo boy. Docile is not a word I would use...

"One's first impression is that they are entirely soft. Then one comes suddenly upon something very hard, and you know that you have reached the limit and must adapt yourself to the fact."

That is, indeed, what she said.

“Meaning British prejudice in all its queer manifestations."

Oh boy. I don't think you mean what I'd mean by those words, but yet you have still brought upon me a great sense of national shame and wincing.

"I was invited to a week-end gathering at the country house of a cabinet minister. The conversation was amazingly indiscreet.”

Given the general level of OpSec shown by government workers, bankers, and just... everyone within these stories, I cannot say that this surprises me. I'm disappointed, but not surprised. The majority of government people we have met have been entire and total imbeciles in the matter of privacy, data protection and general best practices regarding secrecy.

“No, no, don't call it a pose. A pose is an artificial thing. This is quite natural. I am a born sportsman. I enjoy it.”

Ugh, I hate this guy.

“And all the time this quiet country house of yours is the centre of half the mischief in England, and the sporting squire the most astute secret-service man in Europe. Genius, my dear Von Bork—genius!”

I will say, they're commenting on other people not being discreet, and here they are just laying out everything without even a hint of subtlety. Using people's names. confirming their identities, confirming their true purposes. Unless this, in itself, is a subterfuge... They're not at a party, at least, I suppose.

“You flatter me, Baron. But certainly I may claim my four years in this country have not been unproductive. I've never shown you my little store. Would you mind stepping in for a moment?”

This all feels very Cask of Amontillado, don't you think?

Is Van Bork Sherlock?

He then closed the door behind the bulky form which followed him and carefully adjusted the heavy curtain over the latticed window. Only when all these precautions had been taken and tested did he turn his sunburned aquiline face to his guest.

Oh. My. God. Did someone just use basic security protocols to prevent someone from listening or looking in on them? Be still my beating heart. I might faint.

I am so confused about who is speaking right now. I need more dialogue tags. I have lost track. These two have merged into one very confused spy with multiple personalities. Or maybe just two heads. I don't know.

“Out of date and waste paper. The Admiralty in some way got the alarm and every code has been changed."

If that wasn't Sherlock or Mycroft, then I don't know who it was because every time the Admiralty has been in these stories they have been incompetent to the point of deliberate treason.

Will come without fail to-night and bring new sparking plugs. — —Altamont.

Is Altamont Holmes?

“You see he poses as a motor expert and I keep a full garage. In our code everything likely to come up is named after some spare part. If he talks of a radiator it is a battleship, of an oil pump a cruiser, and so on. Sparking plugs are naval signals.”

I take back that gif from earlier. Don't tell people the code words. Good grief, man! You've just compromised all of those phrases. I get that you're providing exposition for the audience, but still. STILL.

"I assure you that our most pan-Germanic Junker is a sucking dove in his feelings towards England as compared with a real bitter Irish-American.”

Fair.

...at a touch from the Baron's chauffeur the great car shivered and chuckled.

Is the car alive? I don't like this description.

“Those are the lights of Harwich, I suppose,” said the secretary, pulling on his dust coat.

THANK YOU!

It's Harwich... No hellmouth, just Harwich. Mystery solved.

"The heavens, too, may not be quite so peaceful if all that the good Zeppelin promises us comes true."

Oh, you mean the bustle in the hedgerow? No... don't be alarmed about that. It's just a spring clean for the May Queen. Or if you're talking about the piper, he's just leading us to reason. It's really nothing to be worried about.

...beside it, seated at a table, was a dear old ruddy-faced woman in a country cap. She was bending over her knitting and stopping occasionally to stroke a large black cat upon a stool beside her. “That is Martha, the only servant I have left.” The secretary chuckled. “She might almost personify Britannia,” said he, “with her complete self-absorption and general air of comfortable somnolence."

Is Martha Holmes?

Honestly, that makes a lot of sense.

Or Holmes could be the kitty cat.

It was a new experience to him, the silence and darkness of his widespread house, for his family and household had been a large one. It was a relief to him, however, to think that they were all in safety and that, but for that one old woman who had lingered in the kitchen, he had the whole place to himself.

DANCE PARTY TIME

“You can give me the glad hand to-night, mister,” he cried. “I'm bringing home the bacon at last.”“The signals?”“Same as I said in my cable. Every last one of them, semaphore, lamp code, Marconi—a copy, mind you, not the original."

No. No. No.

This is not how you do a treasonous handover of government secrets. I don't care how empty you think the goddamned house is. You don't say the actual thing. YOU USE THE CODEWORDS. THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE CODES. YOU UTTER NUMPTIES!

Fuck you both. You're morons. What even is this? This isn't espionage. This is slapstick.

Good lord.

I... I despair.

I guess if you're this good at it, then it's no wonder that even the bloody Admiralty managed to get a clue.

Mycroft's probably been feeding you information for years, you muppets.

It's the incompetence that gets to me, it really is. If you're going to be moustache twirling evil German spies then at least have the self-respect and decency to be good at it.

This is pathetic.

The Irish-American had entered the study and stretched his long limbs from the armchair. He was a tall, gaunt man of sixty, with clear-cut features and a small goatee beard which gave him a general resemblance to the caricatures of Uncle Sam. A half-smoked, sodden cigar hung from the corner of his mouth, and as he sat down he struck a match and relit it.

Oh yeah, this is Holmes, isn't it?

You couldn't even pretend to be good at being a traitor?

“So it's not quite as simple as you thought. It was four years ago that I had it made, and what do you think I chose for the word and figures?”

O

h

m

y

g

o

d

Tell me you're not about to do what I think you're about to do.

Please.

Tell me you have one braincell in your tiny head. PLEASE. You cannot be this dumb. YOU CANNOT BE!

“Well, I chose August for the word, and 1914 for the figures, and here we are.”

And you're being dumb by trying to show off how smart you are. That's the worst kind.

“How could they have got on to Steiner?” he muttered. “That's the worst blow yet.”

You literally just told a man your safe combination. I don't know what to tell you, my dude. Maybe you're just bad at this.

Then he sat dazing for a moment in silent amazement at a small blue book which lay before him. Across the cover was printed in golden letters Practical Handbook of Bee Culture. Only for one instant did the master spy glare at this strangely irrelevant inscription. The next he was gripped at the back of his neck by a grasp of iron, and a chloroformed sponge was held in front of his writhing face.

“Another glass, Watson!” said Mr. Sherlock Holmes as he extended the bottle of Imperial Tokay. The thickset chauffeur, who had seated himself by the table, pushed forward his glass with some eagerness.

Didn't call the chauffeur being Watson. Discounted him as Holmes for being too thickset. I guess since it's indicated Watson might have written this one I should have thought about Watson as well. Genuinely didn't think he'd be in this one, though.

"There is no one in the house except old Martha, who has played her part to admiration."

So Martha was working for Holmes this whole time. I think she wins the prize for being the best spy in the story.

"I shall no doubt reappear at Claridge's to-morrow as I was before this American stunt—I beg your pardon, Watson, my well of English seems to be permanently defiled—before this American job came my way.”

Oh no! Holmes used the word 'stunt' how scandalously unEnglish of him!

"The fact is, Watson, that this gentleman upon the sofa was a bit too good for our people."

Guess the Admiralty is worse than even I gave them credit for.

The last remark was addressed to Von Bork himself, who after much gasping and blinking had lain quietly listening to Holmes's statement. He broke out now into a furious stream of German invective, his face convulsed with passion.

No... no... Holmes. You're not monologuing in front of the enemy prisoner. Don't do that. I believed in you.

"And yet I live and keep bees upon the South Downs.”

...don't tell him where you live...

I give up.

“And most of that information came through you,” he cried. “What is it worth? What have I done? It is my ruin forever!” “It is certainly a little untrustworthy,” said Holmes. “It will require some checking and you have little time to check it. Your admiral may find the new guns rather larger than he expects, and the cruisers perhaps a trifle faster.”

god fucking dammit

Why are you telling him about the misinformation? The misinformation is meant to misinform. That's why it's called misinformation. You're undoing half of the work you did.

I... guys... guys, I just can't.

“My dear sir, if you did anything so foolish you would probably enlarge the two limited titles of our village inns by giving us ‘The Dangling Prussian’ as a signpost. The Englishman is a patient creature, but at present his temper is a little inflamed, and it would be as well not to try him too far."

Did he just threaten Van Bork with hanging. By referencing a possible pub name? A+ threat, but yikes.

The two friends chatted in intimate converse for a few minutes, recalling once again the days of the past, while their prisoner vainly wriggled to undo the bonds that held him.

They just... they just left him alone.

And went and had a chat.

I don't even know why I thought they'd drive him away immediately. Why would they?

"I have a check for five hundred pounds which should be cashed early, for the drawer is quite capable of stopping it if he can.”

Such a weird line to end this on. OK then Holmes. Go cash your cheque.

And that was the last of the short stories... It didn't quite have the same poignancy as Curtain. But it certainly gave me a lot to talk about.

This has been a really fun year and I've loved writing these up - and spending far too long finding gifs and sometimes making my own memes when I couldn't find the precise thing I needed to say.

If you've read all of these, I have no idea why, but Hi! 2023 was certainly a year, wasn't it? Thanks to all of you. It's been really fun reading comments and learning things when people added to the notes to answer questions I'd asked.

I hear we're doing the novels next year. I have definitely actually read all of those. But I do get them all mixed up, and I will have forgotten a lot of them. I think I also signed up for another substack, but right now I can't even remember which one. That'll be a fun surprise.

Hope you all had a good, or at least not terrible, 2023. And I hope we all have a better 2024.

Happy (almost) New Year!