#my irls say I need an intervention

[dduane]

An anonymized non-anon query

(A note: my ask box isn’t open to anons at the moment, because I started getting inappropriate messages that I didn’t care to see. Maybe I'll eventually go anon-open again. But the present situation isn’t going to stop me from answering asks where the person’s uneasy about having their username revealed. Like this one:)

[text:

Can't go on anon so this is a little mortifying to be Seen™ but;

Do you have any words for fandom girls who are no longer in their 20s and starting to construct people in their heads who shame them for "still being into this stuff"?]

First thing; funny how it's always fandom girls who come up against this, isn't it? If it was some 90-year-old fandom boy in question who'd been painting his face red and white and following Manchester United since he was nine, no one would turn a hair. In fact, everybody in that cohort of interest would be praising him for his commitment and loyalty. It's almost as if some people have bought into the idea that the rules are different for girls somehow! Something to do with the idea that where girls belong is home making everybody a sandwich. I wonder where that might have come from...

Anyway. What you're describing here is something a lot of us have run into: the pressure to (allow me briefly to stand the well-known trope on its head) Be Like All The Other Girls... and to be prepared (and indeed resigned) for that inevitably to happen IRL. This stuff starts sneaking into your head in a very innocuous way: by disguising itself as "being prepared" for what you're afraid might happen. And it's very hard to avoid having that concern slowly but surely turn into a dread of what's going to happen. (For there's a horrible seductiveness about self-fullfilling prophecy... even if you know you've built it yourself. Part of your mind, that frightened advanced-fight-or-flight part that's always trying to keep you safe by predicting all the possible futures, starts feeling satisfied with itself when it finally has the evidence to say, "Well, at least we were prepared for that!")

So it's best to be proactive about managing this, I think, before things start to get bothersome. Develop a quick switchblade-style defense that you can pull out of your brain's back pocket at short notice. And then, when you're used to using it on those rogue ideations, disarm the sneaky "attacker" more thoroughly by taking it apart, gradually, at the more straightforwardly analytical end.

Let's start with the switchblade: a good-old fashioned mantra. How about this:

"Nobody gets to gatekeep my joy."

This can be used as a silent affirmation any time you feel the need. Any time you start feeling that pressure—that annoying whisper from the conjectural voices in your head that want you to think about how maybe you are too old for this kind of thing—pull out the mantra and shiv them in the gut with it, three times. (Threes are always good for this. Think how many spells have to be done, or names spoken, in threes. The rhythm's an archetype all its own.)

What you'll notice, with repetition of this intervention over time, is that the incidence of this kind of thinking gradually gets rarer and rarer. It might take a while to go away completely... but you'll know what to do if it rears its head again.

But also: this response can when necessary be repeated right out loud in front of whatever sorry piece of breathing meat has the unutterable bald-faced gall to actually try to gatekeep you to your (digital or otherwise) face. Pull it out, set your features in an expression of amused calm (because what you do to your face makes differences in your brain), and hit 'em with it. And if they continue to try to argue the point with you, you get to just keep repeating your base-state mantra until they give up and go away.*

...Now, since good mantras normally run deeper than the mere words, it makes sense to inquire into an underlying issue:

Why do people do this to other people? (And I don't mean this as a rhetorical question with optional eyeroll: I mean it as a possible diagnostic.) There has to be a reason people pull this shit... as mandated by the favorite (different) mantra of psychiatric professionals everywhere: "All behavior is motivated."

One aspect of this to consider: the "you're too old to be into this stuff" response is usually a learned behavior. People for whom the perception of "insufficient" age or maturity is an issue have routinely picked it up from others. There are a number of reasons why they parrot it... the likeliest being that simply want to be seen saying the thing that lots of other people they know also say; so that by so doing, they can be seen as Smart. (This is of course just another a manifestation of our old generally-maladaptive friend, the so-called herd instinct.) And nine-tenths of those other people, I can guarantee you, got it in turn from others still. "They're too old for this" is rarely going to be a spontaneous insight. (Except when used pertinent to certain contact sports, and some types of opera.)

Yet why does the trope perpetuate itself so enthusiastically?

Leaving aside personal living-arrangement issues in individual cases, I think it's because in some people, underneath the expressed trope, there's a genuine fear... an insidious variation of the well-known impostor syndrome. And it's this:

They're afraid that whatever it is they've got at the moment, it's may well be the wrong kind of "this stuff"... not a real joy. (Some people will take this to mean, "The kind of stuff, or joy, other people will approve of." Cf. the "seeming Smart" thing.) And, as they get older, they may be becoming afraid they may never have it.

Now, people naturally try to protect themselves from experiencing their own fears whenever possible. This one's no different. So one way such folks find to distract themselves from the fear of having no joy is to devalue such joy in others. That way, whatever they see themselves as having their noses spitefully "rubbed in" can be perceived as no longer a real threat to them. They can start seeing it as a bad joy, a weak or silly or stupid joy. And (in this case specifically) an immature joy.

(With this in mind, the passage in which C.S. Lewis deals with this toxic fetishization of "maturity" is worth quoting in full, since we so frequently see only the last couple/few lines:)

“Critics who treat 'adult' as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence. And in childhood and adolescence they are, in moderation, healthy symptoms. Young things ought to want to grow. But to carry on into middle life or even into early manhood this concern about being adult is a mark of really arrested development. When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”

...And you hear there the voice of a man who'd dealt with a whole lot of critics in his time on this subject—some of them quite famous and elevated types, trying to discredit him for what we'd now think of as "clicks"—and had routinely made them ever so sorry they'd engaged. Also, Lewis was an enthusiastic reader of "the pulps" until his dying day, and you should have seen some of his responses to those who tried to tell him that "at his age, he should be over that science fiction stuff by now." I'd have to go digging for the cites, but... hooboy.

Anyway, and as a closer:

You're not required to—at someone else's mere behest—even think about changing your way of thinking and living in the (probably hopeless) hopes of pleasing or placating other people you've never met. And most specifically:

You are in no wise required by the Universe to curtail your personal experience of joy in order to try to make scared and small-souled people more comfortable.Your soul gets to be its own size, and have its own joy... in its very own shape, volume, and richness.

So if anyone pulls the "You're too old for [x]" crap on you, I encourage you to just let that attitude sail on by you and fuck straight out into the Oort Cloud and beyond. Let passing alien spacecraft on their way in-system gaze at it in wonder and say, "Wow, look at that go! Didn't think they had warp drive here yet."

...Anyway: let me know how you get on.

HTH!

*This is a basic assertiveness-training technique that I feel is much undervalued in daily usage. Every time someone comes up with a new reason you should stop doing what they don't like, and expects you to respond to that... what makes them think you're required to come up with a new and different reason not to? Who made that concept up? And why waste useful originality on someone arguing with you in the kind of bad faith that refuses to accept your answers? Just keep repeating yourself with the main reason until they give up (probably in great exasperation: too bad...) and bugger off elsewhere. :) ...But see the useful 1970s work When I Say No, I Feel Guilty for effective DIY approaches to this problem.

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

stans are actually very funny bc they often time talk themselves into the weirdest corners.

the whole point of criticizing acosf and its handling of nesta's character is to prove the point that sjm...doesn't like nesta as a character. that's is literally THE point - that sjm often abandons her moral themes (abuse, trauma, assault, etc.,) for character's deemed as undesirable or villainous to a capacity - and its through the handling of those 'vilified' (i.e. main character opposed - not even villianous) that we can gauge the extent to which sjm actually believes the ideals of her story. like - it is alarming that the only tolerable, empathetic parts of the a court of silver flames were the moments you could tell where ripped straight from sjm's own life (the hiking, training, mind-stilling etc.,). any actual characteristics about nesta weren't explored...like at all. her relationship with feyre and elain, with her mother, her trauma from her sexual assault, her conflicted relationship with her grandmother, her life before the cabin, her life during the cabin. in 800 pages - i still don't know mama archeron's name. what was life like in the cabin? what did nesta do all day? what was the dynamic? what was going on between elain and nesta?i don't know anything about her and nesta, we don't know anything about nesta's human life, her conversation with clare bedor, her relationship with clare beddor, moments with her dad - not even touching moments with him (and part of this story is her finding love for her dad). mind you we read 800+ pages and we learned absolutely nothing about her.

we essentially read sjm's emotional journey in one part, and a taming of the shrew narrative in another. i think the only way sjm had genuine interest in exploring nesta's story is through essentially self-inserting herself and avoiding the actual plot-points she set up in the first three books. like did nesta have childhood friends? if losing the wealth so drastically affected her life wouldn't she reminisce about it a lot? would she yearn for her mother? who were her childhood friends, how did she function at court?

and the whole point of saying alll of that is to argue the misuse of these topics - serious discussions abuse are only reserved for certain situation, and others its completely undermined in a way that only reinforces the negative ideals to begin with. (i.e. nesta needs to abused bc..." "the intervention was harsh but" - pair that with discussion around what feyre needed in acomaf - and it makes much more sense).

nesta antis often jump between the fact that nesta is so favored that sjm nerfed feysand to 'redeem her' and arguing that sjm secretly does everything in her power to embarrass and secretly laugh at people who like nesta's character. (1) we've gotta pick one or the other (2) in my humble opinion - sjm would have always given feyre a pregnancy plot like this regardless of whether this was nesta's book or elain. its literally so sjm. im shocked people are surprised she pulled the pregnancy as she did.

as with the tamlin discussion we had under this post - i think the story undermines its discussion of abuse with feyre/tam by essentially insinuating that tamlin (when placed in the same victimized position as feyre) should have sucked it up and braved out his abuse with amarantha (and the same with rhysand as well - esp with the deliberate foil of rhysand's 'willingness' v. tamlin's unwillingness). and when we start to have a real conversation ultilizing our own irl analysis and standards we really see how harmful and rather sisyphean the conversation becomes. instead of engaging with these topics earnestly, they only engage in them to prove a point - which is how the issue began in the first place. the whole issue with rhysand isn't the fact that he engages with harmful, potentially villainous positions. no - its that the book wants to prove that tamlin is wrong by justifying rhysand's actions. so even though rhysand and tamlin almost always have the same written and expressed intentions in their abuse of feyre, the book flocks to justify one, and eschews the other. and thats why we get so much reactionary critcism of rhys that is surface: people only admit the problems because they know antis will, not because they actually believe their are issues in the story.

and perhaps im still speaking into a void here but i can tell there's tension between pro stans wanting to have these serious conversations but understanding they can only really introspect so far until the conversation begin to prod at the validity of the topics being brought forth. so stans have to jump between invalidating the romantasy genre ("its just faeries") and treating this book as a serious topic (cue: "sjm put a hotline in the back of the book"). this is also the exact reason why the racism conversations stall (i.e. why inherent superiority is always passively emphasized - despite cc1 + 2 centering human oppresion there is no human in the ensemble cast. despite the fact that illyrian women are the most oppressed - rhys has no illyrian women - or reg illyrians (not his brothers) in his inner circle. aelin 'sacrificing' her human body).

[3liza]

thank you for speaking rational thought AS AN ARTIST into the ai debate. i get so tired of people over simplifying, generalizing, and parroting how they’ve been told ai works lmao. you’re an icon

some of the worst AI art alarmists are professional artists as well but theyre in very specific fields with very specific work cultures and it would take a long and boring post to explain all the nuance there but i went to the same extremely tiny, hypefocused classic atelier school in San Francisco as Karla Ortiz and am actually acquainted with her irl so i have a different perspective on this particular issue and the people involved than the average fan artist on tumblr. the latter person is also perfectly valid and so is their work, all im saying is that we have different life experiences and my particular one has accidentally placed me in a weird and relevant position to observe what the AI art panic is actually about.

first thing i did when the pearl-clutching about AI art started is go on the Midjourney discord, which is completely public and free, and spent a few burner accounts using free credits to play with the toolset. everyone who has any kind of opinion about AI art should do the same because otherwise you just wont know what youre talking about. my BIGGEST takeaway is that it is currently and likely always will be (because of factors that are sort of hard to explain) extremely difficult to make an AI like Midjourney spit out precisely wht you want UNLESS what you want is the exact kind of hyperreal, hyperpretty Artstation Front Page 4k HDR etc etc style pictures that, coincidentally, artists like Karla Ortiz have devoted their careers to. Midjourney could not, when asked, make a decent Problem Glyph. or even anything approaching one. and probably never will, because there isn't any profit incentive for it to do so and probably not enough images to train a dataset anyway.

the labor issues with AI are real, but they are the result of the managerial class using AI's existence as an excuse to reduce compensation for labor. this happens at every single technological sea change and is unstoppable, and the technology itself is always blamed because that is beneficial to the capitalists who are actually causing the labor crisis each time. if you talk to the artists who are ACTUALLY already being affected, they will tell you what's happening is managers are telling them to insert AI into workflows in ways that make no sense, and that management have fully started an industry-wide to "pivot" to AI production in ways that aren't going to work but WILL result in mass loss of jobs and productivty and introduce a lot of problems which people will then be hired to try to fix, but at greatly-reduced salaries. every script written and every picture generated by an AI, without human intervention/editing/cleanup, is mostly unusable for anything except a few very specific use cases that are very tolerant of generality. i'm seeing it being used for shovelware banner ads, for example, as well as for game assets like "i need some spooky paintings for the wall of a house environment" or "i need some nonspecific movie posters for a character's room" that indie game devs are making really good use of, people who can neither afford to hire an artist to make those assets and cant do them themselves, and if the ai art assets weren't available then that person would just not have those assets in the game at all. i've seen AI art in that context that works great for that purpose and isn't committing any labor crimes.

it is also being used for book covers by large publishing houses already, and it looks bad and resulted directly in the loss of a human job. it is both things. you can also pay your contractor for half as many man hours because he has a nailgun instead of just hammers. you can pay a huge pile of money to someone for an oil portrait or you can take a selfie with your phone. there arent that many oil painters around anymore.

but this is being ignored by people like the guy who just replied and yelled at me for the post they imagined that i wrote defending the impending robot war, who is just feeling very hysterical about existential threat and isn't going to read any posts or actually do any research about it. which is understandable but supremely unhelpful, primarily to themselves but also to me and every other fellow artist who has to pay rent.

one aspect of this that is both unequivocally True AND very mean to point out is that the madder an artist is about AI art, the more their work will resemble the pretty, heavily commercialized stuff the AIs are focused on imitating. the aforementioned Artstation frontpage. this is self-feeding loop of popular work is replicated by human artists because it sells and gets clicks, audience is sensitized to those precise aesthetics by constant exposure and demands more, AI trains on those pictures more than any others because there are more of those pictures and more URLs pointing back to those pictures and the AI learns to expect those shapes and colors and forms more often, mathematically, in its prediction models. i feel bad for these people having their style ganked by robots and they will not be the only victims but it is also true, and has always been true, that the ONLY way to avoid increasing competition in a creative field is to make yourself so difficult to imitate that no one can actually do it. you make a deal with the devil when you focus exclusively on market pleasing skills instead of taking the massive pay cut that comes with being more of a weirdo. theres no right answer to this, nor is either kind of artist better, more ideologically pure, or more talented. my parents wanted me to make safe, marketable, hotel lobby art and never go hungry, but im an idiot. no one could have predicted that my distaste for "hyperreal 4k f cup orc warrior waifu concept art depth of field bokeh national geographic award winning hd beautiful colorful" pictures would suddenly put me in a less precarious position than people who actually work for AAA studios filling beautiful concept art books with the same. i just went to a concept art school full of those people and interned at a AAA studio and spent years in AAA game journalism and decided i would rather rip ass so hard i exploded than try to compete in such an industry.

which brings me to what art AIs are actually "doing"--i'm going to be simple in a way that makes computer experts annoyed here, but to be descriptive about it, they are not "remixing" existing art or "copying" it or carrying around databases of your work and collaging it--they are using mathematical formulae to determine what is most likely to show up in pictures described by certain prompts and then manifesting that visually, based on what they have already seen. they work with the exact same very basic actions as a human observing a bunch of drawings and then trying out their own. this is why they have so much trouble with fingers, it's for the same reason children's drawings also often have more than 5 fingers: because once you start drawing fingers its hard to stop. this is because all fingers are mathematically likely to have another finger next to them. in fact most fingers have another finger on each side. Pinkies Georg, who lives on the end of your limb and only has one neighbor, is an outlier and Midjourney thinks he should not have been counted.

in fact a lot of the current failings by AI models in both visual art and writing are comparable to the behavior of human children in ways i find amusing. human children will also make up stories when asked questions, just to please the adult who asked. a robot is not a child and it does not have actual intentions, feelings or "thoughts" and im not saying they do. its just funny that an AI will make up a story to "Get out of trouble" the same way a 4 year old tends to. its funny that their anatomical errors are the same as the ones in a kindergarten classroom gallery wall. they are not people and should not be personified or thought of as sapient or having agency or intent, they do not.

anyway. TLDR when photography was invented it became MUCH cheaper and MUCH faster to get someone to take your portrait, and this resulted in various things happening that would appear foolish to be mad about in this year of our lord 2023 AD. and yet here we are. if it were me and it was about 1830 and i had spent 30 years learning to paint, i would probably start figuring out how to make wet plate process daguerreotypes too. because i live on earth in a technological capitalist society and there's nothing i can do about it and i like eating food indoors and if i im smart enough to learn how to oil paint i can certainly point a camera at someone for 5 minutes and then bathe the resulting exposure in mercury vapor. i know how to do multiple things at once. but thats me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting upset at my best friend for calling me a hoarder in passing?

My (29NB) best friend (also 29NB) have been going through major crises lately at the same time—we will call them Sun. So, yesterday, they sent me a text, when we weee talking about how they haven’t wanted to be over at my house for a while, mostly bc they don’t like my partner…although the subject was in discussion bc my partner and I are splitting up, and I will be living alone again in a couple months. At some point in this discussion, they mentioned the more pressing matter that’s caused them not to be over as much is that they are very allergic to one of my cats—but only the one I just adopted a couple years ago, they’ve had no allergy issues w the other one and they love her very much, she is their niece.

However, at one point, they mentioned that a few years ago, when I was using drugs a lot more irresponsibly than usual—to the point where I got injured from falling down the stairs—they had been speaking to my other close friends. Which is appreciated, and I knew about this already obviously since there was an intervention that happened around that time…the way they mentioned this was upsetting. Specifically, they mentioned that “they approached [other friend of mine] about my drug use bc they thought I was becoming a hoarder” and that MAJORLY triggered me—specifically the hoarder comment. The woman who gave birth to me/raised me is a hoarder, which is a well known fact to just about anyone who is close to me irl, especially anyone who’s known her irl, and ESPECIALLY Sun, who worked as her caregiver for quite a while. Also being compared to/told I am just like my abusive egg donor is the thing that will hurt me the most, bc she is the most cruel, manipulative, abusive people I’ve ever had in my life.

So the thing is, my house is indeed very messy…I have too much junk around, and it’s very difficult for me physically to keep anything clean. It’s actually one of the reasons I’m separating from my partner, and as ashamed as I am about it, I understand. However, it’s not a hoarding disorder at all—I don’t hold onto anything I don’t need out of sentimentality, and if I could wave a magic wand and simply get rid of all the extra shit I don’t need/make everything nice and clean, I would. Unfortunately, I am very disabled with too many chronic pain/fatigue conditions, and actually cleaning the house/sorting through shit to get rid of takes immense physical effort. But whenever someone offers to help me, I jump at those opportunities! I take things to be donated all the time (if I’m able to sort through the stuff that needs to go) and it’s entire worlds different than my egg donor refusing to give up several bins of my baby clothes bc she can’t bear to part with them, despite them never seeing use in her possession ever again.

So, I responded to Sun’s mention of a past conversation thinking I’m a hoarder, with offense and saying it hurt me. We had been discussing just downsizing and how we will be going through my stuff as we pack for the new place, and had mentioned that I should make sure to get rid of certain clothing things if they have holes/are worn out/whatever, which to me, sounded like they think I have a hard time throwing clothes away even if they’re not even wearable anymore. With that and the hoarding accusation in mind, I told them I was very hurt by this. I made sure to be respectful and kind yet assertive, but after explaining how this was an unfair assumption/description of me, they got upset and said I should’ve asked for clarification before coming at them.

Now, do me, I wouldn’t have even considered they meant anything other than how I interpreted it, so it would never have even occurred to me to ask for clarification if I’m not even aware there’s a miscommunication. Apparently, the reason they mentioned getting rid of clothes that have been too worn out is an issue they have themselves, but this isn’t anything I was ever aware of, and once again never would’ve thought was referring to anyone but me. They also say they’re aware that it’s my physical difficulties that make cleaning physically painful for me…but honestly, that’s not anywhere near the same as having a hoarding disorder, which is indeed what they’d accused me of.

Of course, I know the both of us overreacted—me, being offended about being accused of being a hoarder (especially since my immense difficulty cleaning the house is part of why I’m separating from my partner and is therefore something I’m incredibly sensitive about right now) and them, being offended that I took what they said wrong and being upset over some things they didn’t actually intend w what they said…but I’m just not sure if maybe I AM in the wrong here, for expressing being hurt by being called a hoarder here, or if I really am making the entire thing a big deal out of nothing.

So, AITA for voicing my offense at being called a hoarder?

What are these acronyms?

[the-s1lly-corner]

Leshy and Narinder x reader who loves their plants

yoinking this and applying my own attachment to my irl plant because eeeeerrrrm because i said so! hiss! notes: reader is gn, post game, bishops still have some tiny bit of power left simply because admin loves the implications of that and the possible scenarios that can create even if not fully explored in this post, reader is any creature, non specified plant CWS: none

LESHY

given that hes covered in leaves and part of his entire thing is nature- hes at least a little versed when it comes to plant care... or at the very least can tell when a plant is thriving-- so if you happen to get particularly stressed by any odd signs or perceived signs of stress from your plant, he does a quick look over and reassures you that it will live

and if it doesnt? well... he can give it a little bit of encouragement- will still do it if youre insisting you want to do it on your own with no divine intervention, he just does it when youre not looking and in small increments... is it a lie? yes, but he'd hate to see you beat yourself up

if its a plant that grows big, or needs to be moved from pot to ground- like a tree for example- hes willing to give some help in digging the hole for it

helps you with basic care if youre new to taking care of a plant so youre not totally helpless

miiiiiight try to give you some cool rare plant if he ever comes across one- you... may be in over your head...

NARINDER

adopting the headcanon that he rots anything living that he touches that i see every now and then- he keeps his distance from everyone.. including your plant

if it were anyone else's he wouldnt be so careful- but it he rotted yours on accident... he feels he may as well have spit in your face, to destroy your effort just like that

on top of that he doesnt want to even think about asking his brother leshy to help try to save the plant- if thats even possible with narinders powers

its because of this he wont help with any physical work- hes even apprehensive about watering the plant

listens to you ramble about any updates about your plant- he doesnt really say anything in return... but his ears flicking and adjusting every now and then let you know that hes listening... sometimes leaves things on your porch- new tools, special fertilizers and plant foods, pots, and so on

[sanasanakun]

Gortash acting as an enabler for The Dark Urge is so interesting imo. I can easily see redeemed DU feeling extremely betrayed and angry by it given that they now have a chance to contemplate their past self’s situation. They easily could accuse him like “you say you were my ‘nearest and dearest’ but you never saw how much I suffered? Or did you just not care because my misery advanced your (our) goals? You never wanted to help me? You could have stopped me.” At this point in the story, DU’s come to understand friendship in a way his past self never could have and Gortash’s previous inaction is a betrayal of those values. If he never helped them, then Gortash never truly saw the real them nor understood them.

In my personal headcanon (and somewhat supported by canon imo), I think Gortash tried to helped DU in his own “Gort” way. Aka promising that they’d one day rule as “Gods” which is essentially a promise to DU that they’ll rise above Bhaal or be free of his influence (as others have previously pointed out). However, I don’t believe Gortash has the emotional capacity to help DU in the way they needed. He doesn’t understand it or he might even be afraid to hit that particular nerve. He liked the routine they fell into, so why change it? It is also definitely pragmatic. The Dark Urge’s condition advances their plans. Gortash puts progress and the plan above all else even if it hurts loved ones. He rationalizes his inaction with cold logic, weighing the pros and cons of his intervention. Therefore, I don’t believe it’s necessarily malicious enabling. Gortash acts with the idea of pursuing whatever is more “comfortable” for him personally and their joint plan.

From my personal experience, this type of enabling is pretty common (at least in my irl situations). They don’t know how to act and are afraid to confront their loved one, so they do nothing. It’s “easier” to do nothing. Definitely would like to write something for it at some point because I feel like this would be a key tension point in their post-tadpole relationship (or lack of). Maybe even pre-tadpole where the Dark Urge just quietly endured but desperately hoped Enver would say or do something to save them, but he never did.

[resetmypatientviolence]

Well.

Picked up my guy from a bachelor party for a guy in our group. Was supposed to be a quick pick up.

Ended with my guy having to fucking restrain and yell at our friend on the side of the highway because he was too damn drunk and combative and refused to tell us his address and then called me a “dumb bitch”…

To which I pulled over and told him to get the fuck out (but wouldn’t let him out because… HIGHWAY AT MIDNIGHT) and called 911 because we officially, after an hour (and many friends trying to help) we couldn’t contain him. Jesus fucking christ.

ACAB but the cops that came actually came at the situation calm and cool and managed to talk to him to get his address that he refused to give us. Like proper fucking policing vs just tossing him in the drunk tank. They told us that we did the right thing to pull over and call once he past this limit of control and the officer asked me if I felt comfortable driving him home. I was hesitant in my answer but said yes— but my guy heard the officer whisper to his (woman) partner that I was uncomfortable to do so and that they’d need to handle it.

Good god. Just needed to fucking trauma dump here. The said friend has a history of getting like this when he’s drunk but this was… beyond bad. We need to do an intervention or coax him to help. I hated yelling at him and calling the cops but damn. My guy had to restrain him MULTIPLE times that night and even I got fucking involved when said friend refused to let go of my guy and even when he tried to leave my car. I didn’t hesitate to throw my body in the mix, even if I was literally dressed in soccer shorts, a tank, and over shirt with literally no bra.

Granted, I didn’t expect to be hunting down a friend then calling the cops on him, so I was throughly not dressed for this bullshit.

It was scary as hell to see my guy just straight up be so aggressive. I never saw that side (thank god) and him yelling while holding him down for the last time fucking snapped our friend out of combative mode. It’s eerie. The best I can describe is he just went full on Barbarian Rage irl, literally. At least I know even if he’s 5’7, he’ll protect us in danger and isn’t afraid to also protect me. He lost it too when said friend called me a bitch— but also had the sense to say it was time for 911.

I didn’t fall asleep until like 4 as we got back at 1 and had no idea how things ended with our friend and the cops— I hope he stayed chill.

Yeah… like fuck. My guy said it was a great night then our friend got into it with some strangers and it just set everything off in him. I feel the worst for our friend— a great guy that didn’t deserve to have his bachelor party end like this.

At the very least our friends have our back and know we did what we could.

But Jesus. Let’s hope that’s the last physical confrontation that I ever deal with. Don’t wait to get your friends help, all.

[dragonagitator]

Questions for House MD fanfic authors, other House MD lore enthusiasts, and anyone familiar with Princeton, New Jersey geography:

Have you found or created any good references or headcanons for the locations that exist in the show, but not in real life?

If you live(d) in this part of New Jersey, do you have any opinions on where it would make sense to place things?

I ask because the House MD time travel / isekai author self-insert fanfic I'm writing is going to delve pretty deeply into the logistical, legal, and financial challenges of building a new life from literally nothing, 20 years in the past. Unlike @acrownforaking 's protagonist in "Intervention," my OC is not a teenage girl who can be passed off as House's long-lost daughter (which is for the best, given how much my middle-aged self-insert wants to fuck that age-appropriate man), and she is going to get off on the wrong foot with the characters who might have normally been the most able/inclined to help her.

So, getting around the Princeton area in 2004 as a broke semi-homeless person is a problem to be solved as part of the story, and thus I need to nail down the precise location of key settings in the Houseverse so I can figure out what they're within walking distance of, transit options, etc.

The Hospital

Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital doesn't exist IRL, and it's not simply a fictionalization of Princeton Hospital because that IRL hospital also exists in the Houseverse and is referenced a few times in the show.

I used to assume that the fictional PPTH was somewhere on the IRL Princeton Plainsboro Road, located here:

But the wiki reminded me that in "After Hours," it says Prospect Street on Chase's GPS. The nearest Prospect Street is in the town of South Brunswick Township and appears to be a residential neighborhood from "driving" down it in Google Street View, but there's a Prospect Avenue in Princeton that terminates on Princeton's campus:

Meanwhile, the building in the aerial exterior shots of PPTH on the show is actually the Frist Campus Center of Princeton University IRL:

And Frist Campus Center is located near the western end of Prospect Avenue, where it terminates at Washington Rd:

Meanwhile, while the show never explicitly identifies which medical school their teaching hospital is affiliated with, I'm comfortable headcanoning that Princeton University has a medical school in the Houseverse (it doesn't have one IRL). We can deduce from "Three Stories" and the early season 4 episodes that the hospital and medical school must be adjacent or perhaps even share some buildings because the characters seem to go back and forth between the classrooms and the hospital without putting on their coats or getting in their cars.

So I'm thinking of headcanoning that Princeton University has a much larger campus in the Houseverse than in IRL, with the medical school buildings and hospital complex clustered around the corner of Washington Road & Prospect Avenue (which is Prospect Street in the Houseverse). I'll keep the exterior of the buildings pretty close to IRL, but what's inside them will be different.

However, there's a couple of problems with this location:

1) Why would a hospital in that location be named Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital? Where does the "Plainsboro" part come in if it's not in that town or on that road?

The IRL Princeton Hospital is on Plainsboro Road, but again, PPTH isn't just a fictionalized version of the IRL Princeton Hospital because the latter exists in the Houseverse and is occasionally referenced on the show. We can also infer from some of Cuddy's remarks about Princeton Hospital that it is a completely separate organization with different management, specialties, accepted health insurance plans, etc.

And here is the location of the IRL Princeton Hospital in relation to Frist Campus Center (the building depicted at PPTH on the show):

Unless someone has a better explanation or idea, I think I'm just going to headcanon that there is/was a second hospital in the same area as the IRL Princeton Hospital that is/was named Princeton Plainsboro Hospital and that the PPTH from the show was originally a satellite campus of that hospital but is now independent. The "Plainsboro" part of the name is simply a legacy from when it was a satellite campus, and Cuddy is too financially sensible to waste a ton of money on a rebranding campaign.

I live at the bottom of "Pill Hill" in Seattle (First Hill) and can attest that having a bunch of different hospitals all clustered together is definitely a thing that happens IRL despite how counter-intuitive it is to have multiple emergency rooms within a few blocks of each other instead of spread throughout the city.

2) Where should I put all the university departments and functions that are displaced by turning Frist Campus Center and the surrounding buildings into a hospital complex and medical school?

This problem is an easier solve, because what's this I spy in satellite view:

Fuck that golf course.

So unless anyone has a better idea, I'm going to expand Princeton University's campus to the southwest, replacing the golf course that's there IRL. Maybe include a nice arboretum so that we still have some green space, but make it a park that anyone can use instead of a private golf club with a $6,000 (!!!) initiation fee.

House's Apartment:

Per his driver's license, House lives at 221B Baker Street (just like every other Sherlock).

His apartment (technically condo, since he owns it) is "a few miles" from the hospital per the episode "Whatever It Takes" and it's an 8-mile run via an unknown route (likely not a straight line) per the episode "Meaning."

His mother indicates that he specifically lives in the city of Princeton, not a neighboring city or suburb, because she's been following the Princeton police blotter ever since House moved there, per the episode "Love is Blind."

Unfortunately, neither of the local Baker Streets are even in Princeton:

So it seems that I need to just pick an existing street in Princeton and rename it as Baker Street in the Houseverse.

Ideas for some Princeton streets that are an appropriate distance from the hospital where a building that looks like this and the street name "Baker" would fit in?

I can't find anything about there being an IRL location that corresponds to the exterior of House's apartment building, so I suspect it's a fake building on a sound stage. But please correct me if I'm wrong.

Thanks in advance for your thoughts & help!

[measuringbliss]

So one thing I suddenly started thinking about with my insomnia-ridden single braincell was translation in Harry Potter. Not translation of the books (although it IS fascinating), but translation of books, in-universe. And speech-translation, and presumably translation of everything.

Is translation a job in HP's magical world?

You could argue that there's probably a spell, a potion or any type of thing that supposedly provides translations. A very quick search throughout the wikia doesn't provide me with an example, but let's suppose so.

I see two main ways of doing translation, which I will compare with IRL processes:

The Human Way

The Artificial Intelligence (AI) Way

The first method implies some degree of conscience, where the translator understands the languages comprised in the interaction and the cultures they're associated with. The human can interpret, have opinions, deliberate, be influenced, and overall use their judgment. In the magical world, the direct equivalent would be identical: a human translator.

Now, the second method is different. It bases itself a canon of sorts (usually constituted of legal texts), where human translations have been executed, and the process checks what comes back again and again. It remembers that, for example, "Monsieur" is often (but not always! We immediately get a nuance) translated as "Sir" from French. If the machine sees that word, it will translate it that way. It won't take the cultural context into account (Does it take place in France? Is the character French? What's the social status of everyone involved? In which era?), it will just see the word, the sentence as a whole if it's not too terrible, and will repeat what it saw dozens and dozens of time.

An immediate issue with this method is that a lot of languages rarely interact with each other. English and French are common pairs, but Turkish and Afrikaans? Not so much. If the machine doesn't have enough data, it has to rely on intermediary translation, for example by first translating the text from Language A to Language B, then from Language B to Language C, which can be highly inaccurate.

In the magical world, a similar thing would simply be magic.

Magic is an interesting concept if you get in the nitty-gritty. We know that human translators, thanks to their humanness, their conscience, are better translators than AI (and that will never change).

So the question is: how would magic work?

Does it have a conscience? It doesn't seem so. It does help kids by revealing itself, but it seems to stop there. It's not all-powerful; any reader of Harry Potter knows that food can't be conjured from nothing. What stops magic from doing so: technical limitations (laws of nature?) or a simple, thought-out refusal?

There's no evidence to support the second theory, so we must assume that magic not only doesn't have conscience, but also has limits.

Now, we already determined that to translate accurately, you need a conscience. If magic doesn't seem to interpret anything (it seems to simply receive instructions and execute the command; think of how the wand movements and pronunciations need to be precise! How does that go for non-British wizards? Does everybody in the world need to have a British accent to say Latin formulas?), it's very comparable to an AI--at least, it doesn't try to pass off as human. At least, not without human intervention, whereas AI, once created, does have some autonomy.

Ergo, the magical world absolutely needs human translators and is probably aware of that fact to a better degree than the human world of 2024.

[finspal]

hit me with your kill shot, baby

nightweb

Summary:

“Then how do you know about the venom?” Wade asks.

Peter opens his mouth, licks those pretty lips, and closes it. “I um, you know,” he tilts his head, a red flush blooming in his cheeks. “Masturbated before?” he whispers out the word, and then he’s back to hiding on Wade’s shoulder.

“Pete, my love, if we wanna go somewhere with this, you need to mentally graduate middle school first.”

Notes:

Hey... my first spideypool fic and it’s with peter going feral with spidey traits during sex.

a more detailed version of the sex and peter’s spidey traits is there in the end notes, if you would like to know before reading. i promise it’s nothing extreme. most of this is actually kinda cute. kinda.

disclaimer: spiders don’t mate like this irl. i legit made this shit up.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It was three months into their relationship when Peter finally revealed it.

Three months, fourteen days, and a few hours give or take (Wade isn’t that good with time) since they started dating, to be exact. And a good two years of being acquainted with each other. And it is going spectacularly great, they watch Disney marathons together, patrol together, kiss and cuddle and say gay shit from time to time. Everything Wade didn’t even dare hope for. Peter is lovely and angelic on the best of days, blushing at compliments and holding Wade’s hand while he read through his fat nerd textbooks, and downright fucking annoying and bratty on the worst days, forgetting to eat and sleep and burying himself in paperwork and hero-ing, being awfully snappy and rude. Wade, of course, can bear with it all. He himself is one heavy burden in a relationship. So putting the two of them together and doubling the problems to carry was a given, which they are both totally chill with.

The actual problem is that Peter shuffles away the moment their making out gets a bit more intimate, he stiffens and chuckles nervously when Wade’s hands go lower the waist, murmuring an excuse to stop and move on to something else. Which Wade accepts, obviously, and will completely respect. Consent is sexy and all that. But he can’t help but wonder why. Petey kisses very enthusiastically, flushing and whining, face all red and lips all swollen and eyes all glossy. There’s force behind his kisses and his fingers leave bruises which fade in seconds on Wade’s shoulders with the tense grip.

So yeah, Peter is, on some levels, intimate with him. And while Wade does want more, he also wouldn’t mind not having sex at all, because their relationship already makes him the happiest he’s been. He’d never break up with the most gorgeous boy in the world over something as stupid as penetrative sex. But yet—

He just wants a reason.

And above all, he’s scared of the reason.

Because if Peter is very politely refusing sex and willing to go without it because he didn’t want to look at Wade while doing it, Wade would be honestly devastated that he’s resigning Peter to a life of forced celibacy.

The other reason, a darker one that makes his previous murder instincts light up at the speed of light, is one he doesn’t dare entertain for too long. Because he has a good track record which is nearing a full year that he does not want to break.

Thus, he plans an intervention.

Peter is on the couch, clad in only boxers and a thin white t-shirt, reading another textbook with a headache inducing title that Wade has given up on reading because he just could not begin to give a fuck about it. Munching on a chocolate, another in hand for Peter, Wade skips towards the couch and jumps over it, landing on the side next to the hero. Peter makes an annoyed noise, but doesn’t look away from his Chemistry texts.

“You’ll never know the psychopath sitting next to you~” Wade hums, chewing loudly, swaying back and forth. This doesn’t award him as much as a twitch, so he continues, “You’ll never know the murderer sitting next to you~” He wiggles his eyebrows at the word murderer, but Peter isn’t even looking at him. He repeats the song twice, and finally gets a reaction. Peter groans, lifting a hand to weakly slap his shoulder.

“Please stop singing that shitty song, please.”

“Alright, my bad, singing tracks from D.C movies in a marvel fanfic, that’s blasphemy.”

Peter’s back to ignoring him. Is chemistry really that interesting? Wade fucking hates science. He shifts closer and puts an arm around the boy, pulling him closer, caging him in. The way he fits so snug in his arms… Peter is not skinny, but his muscles have an acrobatic build, sinewy and long, flexible. So it’s easy to curl him, mold him into something smaller. Something precious. It makes his heart warmer to feel Peter snuggle in, even if he had been acting bratty moments before.

A hand moves to card through Peter’s soft hair. “We need to talk, Petey.”

“Hm?” Peter’s soft brown eyes peek up at him, frowning. “About what?” A nervous edge in his tone makes Wade laugh, so he trails a hand down to grip Peter at the wrists, which always makes his boyfriend pliant and needy. Particularly because his fingers press on the small slits there, a spot where Wade has discovered to his delight, Peter is deliciously sensitive at.

Peter never lets anyone touch his spinnerets, especially considering how it’s an erogenous zone for him. But Wade has special privilege, which he loves to abuse.

“Nnnggh,” Peter whines the moment he feels pressure at his little web-making slits, but then turns to scowl up at him. “Seriously? I was in a pretty difficult chapter.”

“Oh? Your mind still on chem? Now that just won’t do,” he bends down to bite Pete’s ear, nipping at it, then slowly licking the edge. He feels Peter shudder under him, as he slowly bends Peter over the couch, getting the boy to lay down on his back. Distantly, he hears the thud of a book fall to the ground.

“Urgh, Wade,” Peter complains, voice shaky. “You taste like chocolate!” The weak little pushes he’s doing to resist Wade’s assault are useless, not a speck of Spidey super strength in them. Which can only mean one thing. Peter doesn’t want Wade to stop. Not really. Encouraged, he trails a line of wet kisses from Peter’s crimson, cute ears all the way down to his lithe neck, which is exposed all for Wade, Pete having thrown his head back to sink it into the couch. The hero’s chest heaving as he clutches onto Wade’s shoulders, Peter’s eyes are closed, and his mouth parted.

He’s so sensitive, Wade thinks, so responsive. So beautiful.

Keeping a tight hold on Peter’s right wrist, his fingers playing with the slit, generating small cries of stimulation, Wade chances a touch lower, his other hand moving from Peter’s hips towards his groin.

The change is immediate.

Peter pauses, his breath hitching, his eyes snapping open. The sudden defensive pose makes Wade still, but he doesn’t move away. When he gets no response, he bends down to press another kiss on Peter’s pale neck, which already has a few red spots from his previous assault. Peter shivers under him, but squirms around when he feels a hand on his inner thigh.

“W-Wade…” he whispers, “Wade, wait.”

Wade looks up, their eyes meeting. His hand massages Peter’s inner thigh, reaching under the hem of the boxers to meet soft pulpy flesh underneath.

“Wade, stop!”

Wade immediately let’s go, bouncing backwards in his hurry to get away, and almost topples off the couch. He sits on the back of his heels at the side, frowning, heart thudding with new found concern. Peter’s chest is heaving, a pretty flush on his cheeks and neck, his ears red and his eyes hazy.

“Hey, what’s wrong, baby boy?” he asks, voice gentle, reaching forward.

Peter looks conflicted and guilty, the flush from earlier dissipating to leave a troubled look which Wade instantly dislikes. “’M sorry,” he mumbles, “not in the mood.”

“You’re hard,” Wade comments. “Not that it matters!” he adds hastily, getting increasingly worried at Peter’s distress, at the way a flash of fear passes in those brown eyes when Wade had mentioned the state of his dick. The warning bells that rang before are full blown in Wade’s head, the voices edging them on as well. Something alarming, something ugly festering inside of him.

“Hey, hey,” he grabs Peter by the shoulders, forcing the boy to look at him in the eye. “Look, we don’t have to do anything extreme, now calm down alright? You’re safe.”

Peter’s brows furrow. “‘Of course I’m safe,” he says, and he shakes himself away from Wade’s arms, and crosses his own. “I’m not scared, Wade. Never. I’ll never be scared of you.” He rolls his eyes at the thought, reaching out to punch him lightly. “You big oaf!”

Wade relaxes, shifting closer again and allowing Peter to snuggle back into him, running a hand through Peter’s spine. “Tell me what’s wrong, sweet thing,” he says into the brown hair he buries his face into. “You know I can’t keep ignoring it. I totally get not wanting to bang Freddy Kruger, but you seem so enthusiastic and then the next second—”

“Wait,” Peter states, pulling away—again, Wade is going to super glue this brat to his side or so help him God— “you think I don’t want to have sex with you?”

“Baby boy, I added two and two together. Got five, obviously. You’ve been refusing to go further, and I totes respect it.” Wade scratches the back of Peter’s ear like a cat, making the boy struggle with paying attention to what he’s saying. “I pieced it together. Super glued. Connected the dots. et cetera.”

“Wade!” Peter exclaims. “Oh my God, you’ve got it all wrong!” He sits up, and with lightning reflexes, plops himself down on Wade’s lap, thighs spread between Wade’s waist. He grabs the man’s face with both hands, and plants a big fat kiss on his lips. “I do want to… you know, have sex.” He whispers the last word.

Planting his hands on either side of Pete’s trim waist, Wade edges him on. “But…?”

Face scrunching up, Peter once again looks distressed, his nose doing the little twitching thing it does when his lips turn into a frown. Wade leans forward and kisses his nose. Then his cheeks. Then his lips. “Tell me, baby boy.”

Peter drops his head onto Wade’s shoulder, hiding himself. “You’ll think I’m weird,” he says, voice muffled and miserable. Wade thinks this statement is utterly fucking ridiculous. He voices it out loud.

Peter just squirms around his lap, until he heaves a deep sigh and looks up. “I have this condition.”

Wade freezes, thoughts going haywire, the voices reaching the darkest conclusions. “...an illness, Petey?”

“No. It’s from the, uhhh, bite, I guess,” Peter replies, his tone quiet and dejected. The bite? Wade thinks. And then, Oh. obviously. The spider bite.

“Did the bite do something to your lower region? Do spiders reproduce asexually? Is that a thing? I wonder if this author did actual research on spiders or is just writing whatever the fuck he wants—”

“Wade!” Peter whines into his shoulder. “I’m serious! I don’t want you to think I’m weird.”

“There it is again. Sweetheart, between the two of us, nothing is normal in this relationship.”

Peter mumbles something that’s so muffled Wade doesn’t understand it. “What’s that, Petey? A little louder, love.”

“I said,” Peter says louder, looking up, “I get more spider traits when I’m near orgasm.”

Wade pauses, processing this. “Okay, so. Is that like, suddenly growing eight legs and eyes in bed type trait orrrr…”

“Ew, babe, what the fuck,” Peter laughs, and Wade grins in return, happy to see him relaxed and laughing again.

“Let’s not discriminate there Petey-pie, I’m sure there’s a Peter out there in the multiverse who does exactly that.”

“Well, I’m not him. I just produce venom from my mouth and succumb to spider instincts.”

“You—Sorry, didn’t catch that right. You produce what?”

Peter sighs, his pretty face pushed back into Wade’s collarbone. “I start producing this venom from my fangs, which grow when I’m about to uh, cum. And I get these…” He shudders. “Instincts to do things that spiders do.”

“Spider instincts… fangs… venom…” Wade echoes, and Peter nods miserably into his shoulder. “Aw, babe, why so blue? This is so much better than you saying you find me too ugly to fuck! This is just some cute additional stuff we gotta sort out in bed, no problemo, sweet thing!”

“Wha—Wade, you were never the problem. It’s one of those “it’s not you, it’s me” situations!” Peter punches Wade’s side. “And did you not hear what I just said? I produce venom. I become some freak that could kill you. Those aren’t stuff which we can just sort out, are you out of your mind?”

“Alright take it slow, so you produce venom which I can’t die from, obviously. And what else? Elaborate on the instincts here. What’s next? Radioactive cum?”

Peter stiffens in his hold, making Wade’s eyes grow wide. No fucking way.

“So you have a spider cock that makes poisonous cum? What poor soul made you realize it? Death by radioactive spidey cum and probably dumped in the Hudson… What a way to go...”

“What? Wade, holy shit, I didn’t kill anyone! And I don’t know if my cum is… like that. I hate this conversation.”

“Then how do you know about the venom?” Wade asks.

Peter opens his mouth, licks those pretty lips, and closes it. “I um, you know,” he tilts his head, a red flush blooming in his cheeks. “Masturbated before?” he whispers out the word, and then he’s back to hiding on Wade’s shoulder.

“Pete, my love, if we wanna go somewhere with this, you need to mentally graduate middle school first.”

“Shut up!” Peter groans, looking up. “Everytime I tried masturbating after the bite, I got scared when I started to.. you know, do the thing.”

Wade nods slowly, a realization dawning. “So you’ve never… with someone else..?”

Peter’s face is bright red, and it’s totally fucking adorable. Even his ears are a crimson shade, his fists clutching Wade’s t-shirt. It’s confirmation enough.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus, you’re a virgin!” Wade yells, making Peter flinch.

“Well it’s not like I can have sex when my own orgasm scares me, can I? I don’t want to risk… killing someone for a stupid orgasm!”

“This is cruel. This is inhuman. You’ve doomed yourself to a life of celibacy because you’re too pure to kill someone over a good nut!” Wade moans, and then the sheer ridiculousness of it crashes into him, and he hugs Peter to his chest, laughing into the crook of a pale visible neck. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“Did you not hear anything I just said?”

“Yes and that’s not a problem!”

“How the fuck is that not a problem?”

“Baby boy, I can’t die. You know that. You can bite me all you want—”

“No. Hard no. I’m not risking that. I don’t want to kill you.”

“You won’t. And it’s just a bite, babe, I can handle you when you’re all horny spider on me.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“C’mon, gimme some credit here, sweetheart. You think I can’t handle one horny little spider? Scouts Honor, I’ll keep you under control.”

“And what if I succumb to my instincts?”

Wade shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I’d bite you, inject the venom into you and paralyse you, then cocoon you in my web and keep you there till my instincts go away. I might even get the instinct to… to eat you and that terrifies me to no end.”

Wade takes a few seconds to think of a cohesive response. The last thing he needs is a panicked Peter, so he shouldn’t act too repulsed and terrified, which he honestly is not. If anything, he feels a little aroused, but he didn’t vocalize that either. Def not the time.

“Okay, you don’t want to do that. I understand. So trust me when I say I’ll keep you under control.”

Peter fidgets on Wade’s lap, a conflicted look on his face. It’s obvious he wants to say yes, but, bless him, he’s paranoid he’s going to hurt Wade. It’s so disgustingly sweet.

“Pete, baby, I promise I’ll take care of you.” Wade says, no hint of humor in his voice.

Peter takes a deep breath. “I trust you,” he admits. “I just don’t trust me.”

“Okay, understandable. And you don’t have to do this. Your choice, alright? If you wanna go forever without sex, then fine! If you want me to fuck you senseless and then let you tie me up and keep me in your little web, also fine!”

He didn’t miss the way Peter’s pupils dilated and the way he licked his lips at the mention of fucking. Except the ball is now on Peter’s side of the court. He’s said what he said, and it’s Pete’s turn to give a response.

A few minutes of silence and cuddling later, Peter finally moves around. “Okay,” he whispers. “Give me a few days?”

“Take all the time in the world, baby boy.”

A few days turned out to be almost three weeks, but Wade didn’t comment on that. In fact, he’s kept his mouth shut and all his advances are non-sexual. Kissing and cuddling and hand-holding is about everything he’s kept himself limited to. Patrol stays smooth, filled with petty crime, and Peter’s college workload keeps him occupied for a good chunk of their time. Wade himself is kept busy with different recon jobs and other non-fatal missions he’s taking.

All in all, they’re back to normal. Wade could almost believe his Peter goes feral during sex conversation was made up and he had hallucinated the whole thing.

Until one day he comes home to Peter unpacking a box in the living room, sitting on the couch.

“Oooh, baby boy, whatcha got over there? I haven’t ordered anything in a while!” He strolls over to the other side, watching Peter take out the last of the wrapping and pull out—

“Holy shit! Pete, what the fuck!”

“What?” Peter asks casually, placing the metal handcuffs and gag on the couch, inspecting them, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Wha—Are you seeing what I’m seeing? Am I in some shitty BDSM fanfic for real? Why the hell would you order this? Go back to being a blushing virgin.”

A slight redness forms in Pete’s cheeks. “This isn’t for—for that.”

“Well? Enlighten me, then?” Wade grins cheekily.

Peter scrunches his nose, grimacing. “Please don’t quote Fifty Shades. Ew.”

“No quoting trash movies, no singing songs from different franchises, what’s next? No quoting the comics?”

Peter ignores him, then picks up the handcuffs by the chain. The cuffs hit each other and make a clicking sound. “These are pure Vibranium handcuffs. I won’t be able to break out of these,” he remarks, and proves it by tugging at the ends, with a good amount of super strength. Nothing happens.

“Sweet. Now where the hell did you get those?”

Peter shrugs. “I’m mutuals with Shuri on Twitter.”

“You told the princess of Wakanda you want to be tied up in bed?”

“No, I told my online bestie.”

“Oh, of course Twitter is the perfect place to tell people you wanna be tied up and gagged.”

“She owes me one anyway, after I stole some high level Stark tech for her just to see if outside tech is compatible with these nanobots she’s making.”

“Yeah, okay, nerd. So you’re fine with stealing fucking Stark tech for your “online bestie” but when I blow up a facility it’s suddenly not fine.”

“Those… are not the same thing.”

“Minor differences,” Wade waves his arms, pointing at the gag. “And what about that?”

“Also for me.”

“Oh em gee! I feel like Christmas came early.”

Peter sighs. “If I… try something, I want—no, I need you to restrain me. Cuff me. And if I try to bite you too hard, gag me.”

“Only when that happens? What if I just want to gag you when you get bratty with me?”

Peter flushes a sweet red, rolling his eyes. “We can try that another time.”

“We’ll have another time?! Baby boy, you’re a gift!”

“Only if the first time goes well,” Peter reminds him. He then hands Wade a silver shiny key, and proceeds to cuff himself. He shakes his hands a little, adjusting to the cuffs. Then he pulls them apart, his wrists cutting into the metal at the end, with a significant amount of strength. Nothing happens. He tugs again, till his fists turn a pretty shade of red. Still, nothing happens. He grins up at Wade, albeit shakily. There’s an edge of anxiety in his form that makes Wade frown.

“Something wrong, Petey?”

“Oh, nothing. Just, um, scary I guess. Knowing I can’t break out of them.”

“Pete, I’m not gonna cuff you with these in bed if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“But you have to if I try to kill you!”

“What part of I won’t die permanently do you not get, Petey pie?”

“And what part of I still don’t want to fucking kill you do you not get?” Peter snaps. Wade doesn’t respond to that, instead focusing on the pale hands still cuffed in front of him. He sits down next to Peter on the couch.

He takes the cuffs carefully into his hands, using the key to unlock them. Taking them off, he brings Peter’s hands up to his face, kissing the soft skin. He turns them around to lick at the spinneret, then pressing a wet kiss on it.

“Okay,” he says, pressing kisses on the slit. “I promise I won’t let you hurt me. Fatally.”

“You never break your promises.”

“Never, baby boy.” He licks another strip along the little slit at Peter’s wrist, making Peter release a cute whine. “You have my word.”

He looks up to Peter looking dazed and flushed. He’s gorgeous. “Tonight, then?” Peter asks weakly, obviously aroused.

Wade smiles, leaning forward to press a final kiss on his forehead. “Someone’s excited. That makes two of us.”

Peter’s already dried and laying in bed by the time Wade comes out of the shower. The cuffs and gag are placed neatly at the bedside table, an arms length away, easy to reach and grab. They had tested the gag on Peter as well, which Peter tried to open on his own and couldn’t, but he didn’t look or sound nervous the way he did with the cuffs. In fact, with the way his eyes looked hazy when he wore it, Wade is quite sure he liked it. Wade still can’t believe Peter got them both made from Vibranium all because he didn’t want to risk hurting Wade. He feels touched. Loved.

“Well, if this isn’t the sweetest sight to ever grace my eyes,” he remarks, not taking his eyes off the laid out form. Peter’s beautiful, as usual. His arms are over his bare stomach, lightly touching his defined abs. His skin smooth, patches of scars in a few places where knives have graced a little too deep. His eyes, doe-like and brown and staring up at him with so much fucking trust, Wade could just die (if he could).

Wade gets to a comfortable position, bracketing Pete’s thighs with his, looming over his boyfriend. He then leans down to kiss at the exposed skin at the collarbone. He tastes sweet, like the bodywash they share. He licks and nips, holding Pete close, gentle and loving. He hears a sharp intake of air above him.

“I trust you,” Peter says.

“And I trust you,” Wade reminds him, moving up to pepper Peter’s face with kisses. “This trust? It goes both ways, baby boy. You trust me to take care of you, I trust you to tell me if you don’t want this. At any time. Coolio?”

“Yeah,” Peter breathes.

Wade goes back to pressing kisses, biting soft skin, letting his scarred hands run all over Peter’s naked skin, leaving deep red marks all over. Peter’s skin is so sensitive, so easy to mark, so easy to bruise. He hears soft panting, and smiles to himself. His Petey makes the loveliest noises, so high and desperate. His hands travel down to grab a thin, strong waist, large enough that his thumbs almost touch at Pete’s belly button. Pete, who’s been tracking his movements with his eyes the whole time, seems to notice this too, which makes him let out a small whimper, and let his head drop to the pillow.

“Relax,” Wade murmurs, drawing circles at Peter’s hip. Peter’s arms are grasping the sheets below him, muscles flexing. He’ll most likely tear some good bedsheets tonight, if he keeps this up.

He goes down till he comes face to face with Peter’s dick, half hard, twitching, pretty and red. There’s a fine amount of hair at the top, but Peter shaves his body so it’s easier to wear spandex, so it’s mostly hairless everywhere else. Pressing a sweet kiss at the top, he drags his tongue down till it reaches the tip.

“W-Wade..”

“Relax, sweet thing,” he repeats.

He brings both down his hands to grip Peter from behind, feeling up his ass, the soft flesh so easy to squeeze. He feels a hand grip his head.

“D-don’t suck, please,” Peter begs, his eyes glossy and nose tinged red. Already? Well, Wade thinks, he’s not been orgasming for a while, so he’s bound to be sensitive. Doubled too with the enhanced mutation.

“As you wish,” he says, pressing more kisses on Peter’s pretty dick, but not taking it into his mouth, no matter how much he wants to. “We can try that another time, right, sweet thing?”

“Yeah..” Peter already sounds so wrecked. With just a few touches and bites and squeezes. He’s yet to show any animalistic trait, or grow fangs like some vampire and start draining Wade’s blood or some shit. Wade snickers as he coats his fingers with lube, keeping the packet next to Pete’s hip at the bed. Since Peter doesn’t want too much stimulation on his dick, he moves to snatch a shaking arm with his free hand. Circling Peter’s rim with lubed fingers, he begins to lick and bite at the slit on Peter’s wrist.

Peter cries out, almost arching his back with the force he uses to press his head into the pillow. Breathy pants and little whines bubble out of him so easily, and Wade slowly inserts a finger. It’s relatively easy to slide it in, and Wade did have suspicions Peter probably tried some of his own fingers in the shower because everything related to sex makes him anxious. Right now, he chooses to continue his spinneret play, drawing out the most delicious little noises from the boy underneath. His one finger becomes two, thrusting in and out easily.

Peter’s pants get breathier and higher, and soon he’s panting for more, little please, Wade’s and more, more! tumbling out of his pretty lips, bitten red. His hips thrusting down to meet Wade’s fingers eagerly, his dick now rock hard. Wade inserts the third finger the same time he lets his tongue lick through the slit on Pete’s wrist, making Peter release a small howl and tear up. He closes his eyes and pants. There’s saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth.

Wade continues to finger his boy open, murmuring little praises. Whispering “you’re doing so good, sweetheart,” and “taking my fingers so well, look at you, so gorgeous, all laid out for me.” Peter would keen and whimper and flush all over at every word, squirming beneath him.

When he hits the spot inside Peter with a quick thrust, his three fingers scissoring Peter’s hole, stretching it, the boy’s eyes snap open.

“Holy shit!” Wade yelps. The pupils in Peter’s eyes have dilated to almost nothing. There’s a strange glint shining within them that makes him look both ethereal and lethal, the eye being rimmed red emphasizing it. Wade doesn't stop fingering Pete, but he lowers himself down a little, and presses another kiss on Pete’s spinneret. The reaction is instant.

Peter opens his mouth and hisses. Then he immediately whimpers and looks away. “Wade..”

“Hush, shh,” Wade coos, traveling down to press kisses all over Peter’s face, his finger rubbing and pressing on the slit of Pete’s wrist, his other fingers stretching him open still. “You’re doing so well, baby boy, so fucking well. Don’t hide from me.”

“Wade…” Peter says once again, his face smashed into the pillow, his face no longer visible. Wade doesn’t like that, releasing the wrist to gently grasp Pete’s chin and make him look up. There’s a wet spot on the pillow where Peter had his face smashed in. For one, fear-filled second, Wade thinks Peter started crying. Then he realizes there’s a liquid dripping from Peter’s mouth. His eyes snap up and take in the heaving, blushing face.

The two canines at the side of Pete’s lovely mouth have elongated, sharpened. With his mouth parted as he panted, trails of a liquid slightly whiter than normal saliva drip from the newfound fangs. The fangs, which are only about an inch long, small and cute, but sharp and deadly, just like Peter. The venom it’s secreting slips through the corners of Peter’s mouth, but he sucks it back in and swallows. There are tears beginning to form in his eyes. Some spill over.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Wade says, kissing away the tears before they have a chance to reach the bottom of Pete’s chin. “Holy shit, Petey, you’re gorgeous, your little fangs are adorable, my love.”

Peter lets out a choked sob, saliva and venom mixing to create a steady stream of liquid to drip from his mouth. Wade takes the edge of the pillowcase and wipes away most of it.

“When are you going to fuck me?” Peter asks, voice breaking, when Wade is done.

“Why, can’t handle my fingers any longer?” Wade teases, emphasizing his point by thrusting rougher, stretching wider. The lewd squelching noises make Peter blush, but the continous fucking is making his eyes glaze over again, taking him under. Soon, Peter’s panting again, baring his sharp little fangs at Wade, even going as far as to hiss at him.

“You’re so fucking cute, even with three fingers up your ass and literally spitting out poison,” Wade sighs, “that sounded more romantic in my head.”

“Fuck me,” Peter demands.

“Oooh, baby boy’s got fangs.” Literally.

“Wade,” Peter grits out, slurping up venom and saliva, “Wade, enough!”

“Nuh-uh!” Wade ignores his own dick throbbing to be in Peter. He has loads of self control when it comes to poor Wade Jr.

“WADE!” Peter screams, and his eyes go full black for a second, before he lets out another hiss, and he once again bares his fangs, his nails digging into Wade’s arms.

At the next thrust to Peter’s prostate, Peter lets out a growl which—finally—sounds animalistic, and before Wade can even comprehend what’s happening, Peter springs into action. He leaps up, grabbing Wade’s shoulders and forcefully wrenching his fingers out of his hole and pushing him down onto the bed.

“Holy fucking shit,” Wade breathes, staring up at the growling, salivating Peter. His pupils fully black, his fangs bared wide open, venom dripping down to Wade’s chest.

The next second, Peter’s lowering himself onto Wade’s length, taking him quickly inch by inch. Wade groans at the tightness, Peter feels so fucking good wrapped around him, he reaches up to grab Peter’s hips, and thrusts upwards the moment Peter is seated. Peter howls at the same time Wade moans.

Peter stumbles forward into Wade’s chest, Wade bracketing him with his arms and thrusting his hips up to meet Peter’s ass, and Jesus Christ, is Peter the sweetest and sexiest thing he’s ever had. He can feel venom and saliva wetting his neck and chest, and Peter’s cries are high pitched and laced with arousal.

“Fuck.. fuck, Wade, oh my God,” he gasps, and he clutches Wade’s shoulders hard enough it could crack with just a little more force.

“Yeah, my little spider? You like that? Am I making you feel good?”

“Yeah, fuck yeah, you are, so good to me, God, breeding me so well…”

Wade almost loses the rhythm of his thrusts at Peter’s words, releasing a choked moan. Did Peter just say breeding? Is this the instinct thing he was talking about? Holy shit. Wade is so turned on he can barely fucking think. He’s got enough kinks to put about half the tags in AO3 to shame.

“Yeah? Want me to breed you, baby? Fuck little babies into you?” Should he have said eggs? Fuck.

“Yes, fuck, Wade, please, please!”

He flips them over, caging Peter once again, and begins a rough pace, both his hands reaching down to thumb at Peter’s spinnerets, pressing on them and massaging them. Peter genuinely starts crying then, and there’s so much fluid on his face, tears, venom and saliva, that he glistens. Peter’s a pretty crier. The wetness makes his cheek gleam and his lips pink and glossy, his eyes red and lovely, his lashes damp and long.

Soon enough, Peter snaps up to bite him. Wade’s sharp reflexes make him dodge easily, but an average person would have probably gotten his throat bitten out. Peter makes a high growling sound at the back of his throat, his eyes blazing with an intense fire. He pushes his head for momentum and snaps up again, and Wade finds himself dodging one more time. Peter going feral means one thing: he’s about to orgasm.

“Alright, Petey pie,” he says, grabbing Pete’s sexy long legs and bending them forward, making the knees touch his shoulders. Forcing Peter down by holding the boy’s hands onto his shoulders, he plays with the spinnerets as he begins to fasten his pace. The stimulation temporarily makes Peter forget his instinct to bite, crying and moaning as he drips venom down his neck.

“My feisty sweet thing, my favorite spider in the whole wide world, you’re so lovely like this, my feral baby boy,” Wade murmurs, and he feels his orgasm closing in, so he takes one hand down to grab Peter’s dick. Peter’s too gone to form words anymore, making high pitched cries and whimpers and low hissing noises and growls.

When they orgasm, it’s only a few seconds apart.

Wade doesn’t have much time to recover before he’s flipped again onto his back. Before he even takes a moment to adjust, his hand moves out into the table to snatch the metal gag. He looks up to see Peter on his lap, growling again, like a fucking possessed chihuahua. There’s cum splattered between their stomachs, venom dripping into it. By now Wade’s sure Peter’s produced enough venom to kill an entire elephant pack.

“Baby, I’m putting the gag on you now, because my Petey doesn’t want to bite me, and I gotta respect that, kay?” He waits for Peter to strike, and when the boy moves down with another cute hiss, his sharp little fangs bared, Wade stuffs the metal gag into his mouth, reaching up to quickly clasp it tight. Peter lets out an alarmed whine, already drooling through the gag, but doesn’f fight it as much as Wade expected him to.

But he still couldn’t bear watching the tears reform in Pete’s eyes and spill over. The poor thing is whimpering, staring up at him with weepy eyes.

“You did so good, baby boy,” he whispers, finally raising a hand to cup a damp cheek. Peter hisses and growls from his throat, but still leans into the touch. “So perfect.”

He brings Peter down to rest the boy on his chest, feeling it get wet with tears and venom and saliva.

“But you were right. No normal person could have survived that.” He shifts to pat Peter’s hair. There, there. “But that makes us super duper compatible. A perfect zodiac match. 100% Tinder matched. The INFP to my ENTP.”

He stiffens when he feels a sticky feeling on his naked chest. He looks down to see Peter creating a web with his spinnerets, slowly creating a nest, a cocoon on their bed. He’s still dripping venom.

“Hm, well. This won’t lead to any fatalities,” Wade says, watching his little spider weave web after web from his wrists, making the white cocoon large enough that soon it’s encompassing Wade’s entire 6”2 frame. Peter silently continues to make it bigger and softer, until it covers them both. He makes little chittering noises from the back of his throat, still whimpering and crying, as he does this, and Wade feels so endeared he could cry. Then he curls up on Wade’s chest, still gagged, still dripping, wet eyes still a deep black.

As they drift away into sleep, with Peter secure in Wade’s arms, Wade can’t help but let the warmth spread through his chest. Peter loves him. It’s evident in all his actions.

When Wade opens his eyes, it’s to the sound of ripping webs and his shoulders being shaken. He yawns out loud, and looks up, and it’s to Peter’s panicked face. Peter. His Peter. Normal, brown and doe-eyed Peter with cute non-lethal teeth and no venom. Though from the stickiness he feels on his chest, there’s plenty of venom, and other fluids everywhere on their skin. And also the gag in Peter’s mouth.

“Mmmphn!!!!” Peter whines, and Wade laughs.

“I quite prefer you this,” he says, moving to towards the drawer to fish the key out. He unlocks the gag and it falls out with an wet splat, followed by quite a big amount of venom and saliva. Their bed is wet almost everywhere, and they only now notice that some of the bedsheets have ripped. He taps Peter’s cheek softly. Peter blushes a dark red.

“Wade,” he mumbles, and wow, his voice wrecked from screaming and growling and getting fucked is a sound Wade is already falling in love with. “Did I hurt you?”

Wade can’t stop the snort of amusement from escaping. “With those tiny little things you call fangs? It would tickle me at most, baby. The only reason I didn’t let you bite me is because you didn’t want to. Also because we don’t know what it could do.”

“Hmm,” Peter hums, massaging his jaw. He’s looking around at the mess in the sheet with a sweet flush. “Maybe I should take a sample and test it.”

“Here comes the fucking scientist. I prefer Feral Horny Petey begging to be bred.”

“I did not!” Peter splutters, his face red to the ears. “That was the spider talking!”

“Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

Peter makes another choking noise and brings a hand up to hide his face. Wade scoots forward to press a kiss into his damp hair. Then he traces the dried cum on Peter’s stomach.

“See? No radioactive cum. That’s another universe, baby.”

Peter peeks out from between two fingers. “Yeah.” He looks at Wade, his face splitting into a full toothy grin that makes Wade’s mind and heart feel like unicorns and sunshine. “That was amazing. I… um,” he looks up shyly. “I’d love to do it again.”

“And if those aren’t the magic words,” Wade sings. “I’d be honored.” He watches Peter wince as he gets out of bed, his pale body littered with red patches, which would probably heal in a few hours.

“I can’t believe you’ve been denying yourself this for so long. Do you know what that means?”

“What?” Peter asks, making his way to the washroom.

“A lot of catching up to do, baby boy!”

“Keep trying and maybe one day I’ll let you use the cuffs!” Peter calls out, before shutting the bathroom door, leaving Wade to grin like an idiot in the mess they made on their own bed.

The future is bright and kinky.

Notes:

Peter forms fangs which secrete venom when he’s about to cum, and tries to bite Wade and inject him with it. wade restrains him by gagging him with a metal gag. then peter makes a tiny web for them to sleep in. peter also has spinnerets in this.

peter: i could /kill/ u!!!!

wade: ok

peter, during sex: *hiss* *tiny fangs* 😠

wade: this could kill me. with its cuteness.

i didn’t put much thought into why peter has these traits i just wrote this shit in 24 hours 😭

i guess this is the part in the authors note where i say haha guys i’m actually scared of spiders irl but like. they don’t. they’re chill.

anyway, hope you enjoyed this!! i’d appreciate kudos and comments ^___^!!!!

[daemon-404]

"Crossbreeding" in Hyrule

Alright, so, this has been bothering me for a while. It's not a new topic, I know, but I figured I might as well put my spin on it. A lot of this is based on vibes alone, but I put as much justification in as I could. Hope this makes sense!

Here's a basic chart for the overview:

Ok, now for specifics (under the cut of course). Apologies in advance if this is offensive to any people who actually study biology as my knowledge is... unreliable (even though I'm very interested in it).

The Easy

Hylian/Sheikah

Hylians and Sheikah are pretty much the definition of "cut from the same cloth."

According to Skyward Sword, the Sheikah are "Hylia's chosen guardians;" they were created alongside Hylians as the sort of "favorite races" of the gods, unlike other species that popped up around the time (Goron, Parella, etc). With the inclusion of the other games, it's clear that they're not minor gods (like dragons or Great Fairies) either, since they appear as and are referred to as a race of people, whereas minor gods are more like magical individuals than a species.

Besides that, they look and behave almost exactly like Hylians, with the only biological difference being that Sheikah can live for an incredibly long time. In SS it might be a little bit encouraged by divine intervention, but with BotW we know for sure it's at least over a century, probably around 200-250 years average. Even that gets more nuanced with, for example, Niko showing up in both The Wind Waker and Spirit Tracks (something of a century later) suggesting that Hylians might be able to live up to around 120 years.

Basically, I don't think it's too bold to assume Hylians and Sheikah are completely compatible and probably biologically function more or less exactly the same way.

Gerudo I

Gerudo appeared significantly later in the timeline, with their first chronological appearance being Ocarina of Time. (I think it's been said that they sailed to Hyrule...?)

In any case, with only one male born every century, they rely on reproducing with other races. This is mentioned in OoT ("They say that Gerudo sometimes come to Hyrule Castle Town to look for boyfriends," Gossip Stone) and made canon in BotW, with the marriage of Rhondson and Hudson of Tarrey Town.

Additionally, their children are always 100% Gerudo (source).

This means they're not hybrid species. They just.. for lack of better way to explain, need to be fertilized to have their children. Generally that comes from Hylians, and thus probably Sheikah as well- which would make sense, seeing as all three of them are almost exactly the same in appearance- but maybe not limited to them. I'll get back to this later.

Basically, all of the the human-like species can have kids with each other.

Cool! But that's almost definitely not what anyone was wondering about.

-

The Less Easy

Zora

Here we are, the most "vibes-based" speculations I have for this post.

Zora... fish people, right? Wrong. What the hell are these things.

Scales, eggs, mammary glands (are they just fatty deposits???), both fish and sea mammal type tails and builds, even in the same family (Sidon is a shark but Mipha's a dolphin????)... not to mention that apparently, at one point, on the official zelda.com, it was said that they're not mammals.

Biological nightmares, that's what they are.

After a lot of consideration, they (specifically the Sea Zora, like in BotW, OoT and TP) are scaled, egg-laying mammals (both are technically possible IRL although not at once), due to most Sea Zora having mammal type head-tails. The difference in anatomy, patterns and resemblance to other species is just... something that happens. Maybe it's due to magic. Really, it's just a character design, video game thing. This isn't the 100% science based dragon game after all and I can't exactly hold them to evolutionary logic.

As you can probably tell, I'm leaning heavily on the "not mammals" thing being taken out of their description. After all, it was apparently over 10 years ago and things (namely: BotW coming out) have been changed. The devs change things after the fact a lot, so I don't think it's out of the question.

(I totally agree with this post by the way- I've just adjusted some things so that they're now specifically mammals and my speculations make a little more sense, even though it doesn't exactly make sense for their evolution. Call it a product of divine intervention... again).

Okay. Now that we've gotten that out of the way... Zora (and, consequentially, Rito) technically being mammals (dear Hylia that physically hurt to type) justifies a little bit more crossbreeding.

Due to vibes again, I think Hylians and Zora are male -> female compatible. Something how female Zora just won't give up on wanting to marry certain Hylians...

I think Zora have most if not all the Zora-specific traits in the egg itself, and Hylian sperm just happens to be compatible to kick off the fertilization.

However, male Zora -> female Hylian doesn't strike me as particularly possible, since I think the Zora part might contain Zora-specific features that just won't translate well.

For example (due to vibes of course), I like to think the head-tail is in the male part, making Hylian/Zora hybrid children tailless and Zora/Hylian children a little bit impossible.

insp 1 insp 2

Rito

Unlike the rest of the Hyrulean races, the Rito have an evolution we can track! They first show up- in the middle of their evolution, no less- in The Wind Waker.

They are a race of people that evolved- with the help of severe divine intervention, only a century in by WW's time- from the Zora.

Their evolution looks something like this, by the time of BotW:

During that middle period, I believe they'd be extra compatible with Hylians, fertile offspring and all. Their god-based evolution seems to have done a complete 180, so for the middle of that process where they have Hylian-like builds I think this makes sense. I mean... just look at them. That's a Hylian with a beak.

Now for the bird part. Notably, in Twilight Princess, a mural in Castle Town shows the Rito with an appearance much more similar to BotW:

And in the OoT manga, there's a short depicting a Rito-like race, the Watarara, who migrate through Hyrule sometimes but don't settle there. They have a much more bird-like appearance than WW's Rito.

I believe the "Rito" in TP are actually the Watarara from a different country, who are developing ties to Hyrule at the time, but don't yet majorly live there. Then, since they're probably around even in WW's timeline, once the Rito of that Hyrule evolve to the point of being slightly more bird-like they become compatible and breed resulting in the Watarara-like Rito of BotW and fully breaking off mutual compatibility they had with the Zora.

HOWEVER-!

While I don't believe a Rito can fertilize the offspring of a Zora, (here's another vibes bit), I do think somehow that there's a male -> female compatibility between the Zora and the Rito.

(I think it's much the same as Hylian/Zora, but the head-tail gene is simply discarded and the rest functions).

Gerudo II

Unisexual reproduction is when a species doesn't need its own males to reproduce, in which the species has haploid eggs (only one set of chromosomes), so the male's genome is discarded, but the sperm is still necessary to develop the embryo (source).

This would explain how every Gerudo child is 100% Gerudo, even with different species as parents.

Now, due to fantasy and magic, I'm going to say the Zora, Rito, Hylian and Sheikah races all have compatible sperm.

This is slightly backed up by in-game Gerudo travelers, like Laroba, stating that a man from any race could be suitable to be her partner. Even if she's talking about romance rather than sex, maybe being able to mate with every other race backs it up a little. She does include Gorons too, though, so that might be unreliable. I'm just throwing it in here.

One more thing- there is a type of unisexuality in which parts of the male genome "leak" into those of the children. I assume this is more or less why Gerudo have pointed ears in BotW and not OoT.

inspiration

-

The Easiest

Gorons are (most likely) asexual reproducers.

There are no "female" Gorons in the series. Even the ones in Gerudo Town seem to identify as male ("I thought men weren't allowed in this town... Why did they let me in?" Lyndae; "I made it all the way to Gerudo Town! But I'm not sure why they let me in..." Strade).

And, conclusively in my opinion, OoT presents a young Goron- Link, son of Darunia. Being that Darunia and Link (the Hylian) are friends, and Link (the Goron) is even named after the Hylian Link, you'd think we'd get an introduction to or even a mention of some kind of mother, or find a "wife"/"girlfriend" of Darunia somewhere, but there's nothing of the sort (equally, the same can be said about Yunobo, who's directly descended from Daruk- the former having no mention of a mate and the latter having no mention of a mother).

I believe that Gorons are genderless, and the use of "he/him" and the male identity has to do with working with Hylians (source).

I tend to imagine that Goron offspring somehow originate from the rocks on the Gorons' backs, therefore being directly related to them (it makes more sense for Yunobo to have Daruk's special power that way).

-

Bonus: The Deku Group

"The Deku group" is something completely different I could talk about, but basically boils down to Deku trees, Deku scrubs, Skull Kids and the Koroks/Kokiri; they're (mostly) all plant-based spirits of the Lost Woods.

In short, Deku trees are something of a minor god/species cross and kind of radiate magic, Deku scrubs are an offshoot of this magic and can and do breed as a very specific and unique case of being a race of spirits, Skull Kids are just kids who got lost and died in the Lost Woods and turned into spirits, and Korok/Kokiri are a mix of fairy and Deku, being both "the children of the forest/Deku tree" and referred to as "fairies" multiple times, so with that combination it's honestly likely that they're just made out of magic à la UNDERTALE.

-

And that's a wrap! For now!

As a bonus for sticking with me this far, here's another chart.

Not only is he probably just... magically fertile, but I think if Gerudo are compatible with every major race of Hyrule (save for the Gorons of course), Ganondorf himself would be able to... show that compatibility a lot more easily. So, technically, if we're rolling with this assumption, the Gerudo and the rest are mutually compatible.

[the-fiction-witch]

Cookies

Media IRL

Character Thomas Brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Sweet

Concept Party Prep

I smiled as I stood in the kitchen humming my little tune as I stirred the batter for my cupcakes, I checked my timer seeing that it only had a few more minutes before the first batch of cookies needed to come out to cool. So of course our kitchen and pretty much the whole house now smelt of delicious baked goods, mostly vanilla being the strong scent and the strawberries I cut up earlier. The sweet sounds of the birds enjoying the bird feeder in the garden as I had the door open, I soon enough heard the unmistakable sound of feet rushing down our stairs eagerly and soon enough Thomas stood holding the door frame excitedly in his red socks, blue jeans and his bulky loose grey shirt his sleeves rolled up where he had been doing laundry last I heard from him.

"Cookies?" He asks excitedly

"Not yet" I told him and his excited smile dropped

"But I did all my chores"

"Very good, And you can have a cookie when they're ready" I laughed "They're not baked yet."

"But I like when they have a slight gooey center"

"Yes and you also like eating raw cookie dough but I'm not having you get salmonella again"

"Ah! For your information, I didn't get salmonella from cookie dough." He complained "It was from that badly cooked scrambled egg from that hotel"

"Still I'd really rather you not get it again we have guests coming this weekend" I remind him as I began filling the cupcake cases

"Why do we have people coming again?" He asks

"Really? You don't know why we're having a party?"

"We're fun people?"

"It's the coronation." I remind him

"Oh yeah"

"How could you forget?"

"Because I have had way more important stuff to do. What do you care?"

"Honestly I don't but it's a bank holiday so, party. And I like parties"

"Any excuse for you to bake and decorate"

"Exactly. I decorate for everything"

"I know. Never owned different cushion covers till I met you. Now we have seasonal pillows. Not even just for the holidays we have a set of cushions that are just winter but not yet Christmas"

"It's the November pillows"

"If you've bought specific coronation pillows for the sofa I'm going to stage an intervention y/n"

"They're not coronation themed. Just… British-themed. I got one with a corgi wearing a rain hat"

"And when are we ever going to use that again?"

"... Early spring when it gets rainy?"

".... Damn it. Fine."

"Yay." I giggled giving him a little kiss and put my cupcakes in the oven taking out the cookies

"Ummmm they do smell good" he smiled coming over already trying to steal one but I have his hand a slap with the spatula

"It's too hot. You'll burn your hand"

"Too hot? I change illuminated light bulbs, I work on still-running motorbikes, and I have on-set pyrotechnics. I can handle a little cookie" he says taking one "ahhhhhh! What the fuck do you have that oven on 2000000!" 

"Serves you right I told you not till they where done" I told him "Besides its nice to have people over to watch it. god knows its a fouer hour ceremony, plus we can all drink at ten am and take the piss out of the fancy ladies funny hats"

"Good point" he says running his hand under cold water "is that why there's like four cases of beer and wine in the garage?"

"all our family and friends are coming I wanted to be prepared" 

[why-its-kai]

I only say this with the best intentions but have you considered staying on a mental health facility for a while? It can really help get you back on your feet and have some sense of schedule and organization in your life for a bit. Plus medication and therapy.. Sometimes we need a more aggressive intervention on our lives y'know? And that's also fine..

respectfully my worst fear is to be institutionalized so a mental health facility sounds utterly terrifying. completely disruptive of my life and routine. changes. control imposed over me. lack of privacy. out of my personal space and somewhere unfamiliar. who will take care of my cat. etc. etc. etc. no thank you.

i am on medication, i do see a therapist weekly, i am SUPPOSED to be getting services to help me find employment but having a pisspoor experience with even communicating with them so that's been frustrating bc i WANT TO FUCKING WORK BUT I NEED HELP, but my neighbors at this apartment have become increasingly loud/pot smelling the building its sensory hell and that's chipping away at me on top of the everything else thats stressing me out, and ofc it's december/winter so my mental state is in total disarray regardless lmao. anyways therapist is helping me work on shit it's just i come here to complain and whine bc ive got no one irl around daily to unload this. i can't keep it bottled inside or i spiral more and more like i gottta yell in the void sometimes about how its annoying how my brain works and strugglings annoying and idk. i am getting help even tho it seems like i am not and just falling apart as a total disaster wreck trash fire who needs to be institutionalized i guess idk XD im sure you came here with good intention anon but like. i'm sorry that's literally something i'm terrified of. i already feel like i'm not in control of my life last thing i want is to lose that last bit of it by getting put away regardless of if i willingly went or sent forcibly lol

[3dsmall]

I do disability caregiving and i think trash hoarding is almost literally universally the result of people not having the amount of disability support they need. Someone who lives like that needs more help than theyre getting. People can have very uneven skills. Any mental health condition can cause that kind of functional impairment and come with uneven skills where someone can function in one sphere but not another. Someone with high social awareness but messed up executive function may prioritize seeming normal over their actual physical safety or just be able to meet expectation in some spheres but not others. Fetal alcohol spectrum disorders (many people with fetal alcohol are normal or high iq but have the degree of executive function issues as someone who is dd may have), autism, adhd are other reasons someone might be able to function in some environments but not at home. It's horrible youve had to deal with this and take on so much, it sounds like youve put a lot in and its very understandable to resent the people who have put this on you, but it isn't a moral failing at all when people have this problem. Its the behavior of someone who cannot handle the demands of their life. Doing disability support for people who do this when they dont have care, basically everyone does want to live better, if they can get the amount of help they need to do it . Its sad people dont get the disability support they need and its really horrible it all falls to you to clean up

good things to keep in mind. i don't really quite understand how something gets identified as an executive functioning issue or how executive function is defined.

you sound like a very empathetic person who has done a lot to help people and to understand people and i commend you for that.

i think describing anyone's irl behaviors as moral failure is inherently deficient. in my head i call it 'insufficiently descriptive' bc, as you've pointed out, a multitude of factors can contribute to behavior we see as 'bad'. identifying and understanding these factors can help improve the world in ways that mere moral judgments cannot.

i feel frustrated though, somehow, with how the disability category seems to be expanding along with 'mental illness'. it's hard to say why! i guess i think that under capitalism, doctors and health aides can be paid either to help people with significant functional impairments/needs OR people with behavioral issues that can only be attributed to non-ontological unprovable un-test-for-able psychological conditions. both categories of person deserve safety and respect, both need help, and neither are culpable. However, only one category can be helped via behavioral intervention, addressing skill deficits and developing habits. there is much to learn, but i kind of question how these categories get collapsed.

i might not be making any sense and i get hung up on how things are defined. nothing wrong w/ yr ask, i am just getting some thoughts out.

[the-chickenshit-oddity]

B99 Obsession Chart Season 1 :) PART TWO

SPOILERS FOR ALL OF SEASON ONE OF BROOKLYN 99

so, i'm rewatching B99, and a lot of it makes me want more stories, more details, more more more. so, here are my notes, and what they make me think of.

for efficiency's sake, this will also be where i "store" my B99 s1 prompts. might be some spoilers for later seasons if the inspiration came from watching this one. just look for links in there to see the prompts. also, some prompts might fit with multiple episodes/notes but they'll only be linked in one place, which will be whichever fitting one i've in front of me as i add the links, not necessarily the most fitting one of all of them. did that make sense?

1:13

Holt is shit at social stuff

Jake needs finance lessons very badly

“channel that passion into the dance” >> jake hanging out at gina (and diaz’) s dance lessons

>> charles’ ex wife’s new boyfriend’s hot tub party 27

>> amy learns stick

>> peraltiago meet cute on the manhattan bridge 28

1:14

Jake’s shit at sharing

>> gina takes secret fight lessons, 99 teaches gina self defense and shit 29

1:15

Jake doesnt have a dentist

Holt & terry play IRL sims

Holt’s sneaky dad lessons : be supportive to your partner (jake whos surprised)

1:16

Squad meets kevin

Jake went to dentist >> dragging 30

Finest vinyard in arkansas >> team trip 31

Amy has a mental breakdown

Jake watches jeopardy

DVR : bones, sherlock, how it’s made >> wtff??? 32

1:17

Terry’s sneaky dad lessons : witness is witness even if he looks dumb (amy & rosa)

Holt’s possessive

Jake lets the perfect girl go to help charles

1:18

The dad episode

>> holt & jake play catch

Gina buys jake’s place 34

Gina & jake both no dads, grow up w/ nana

Jake watched movie abt cop protect potus 12x 33

Boyle knows where to get loose hairs??

Jake never seen little mermaid 35

Amy knows music letters thingy

I would totes buy the toilet in the living room flat

Gross cream hair makes me pukey

Gina got flat @20

Jake dug thru amy’s bin during his own crisis because he’s a nosy little shit

Jake saying 33 gives me starkid aladdin flashbacks oh no

1:19

holt plays along to robot jokes, my boy grew up so fast look at him relaaaax

amy & teddy / rosa vs charles ep

cwazy cupcakes >> addicted holt thing, related stabby episode? 36

Jake’s into star wars?

“dressed like an airline pilot” >> holt colleague with douchebag peralta 37

Jake’s a good shot

Holt lactose intolerant

Scully calls jake jakey 38

1:20

Stupid diet for stupid people episode

Jake & boyle wedding prep ep

Holt’s sneaky dad lessons : teach dont freak out (rosa)

Jake’s a “chocolate guy”

>> amy apologises to hitchcock for wishing him to have aneurisms after aneurisms after ya get me 39

1:21

Holt’s hulahoop accident >> jake stalks to prove 40

Amy goes to the dentist

Jake is obsessed by his job

Martin looks wayyy younger than kevin >> + jake is a jealousy prone only child + kid fic 41

>> Holt’s sneaky dad lessons : how to make speeches (jake)

1:22

How’d you go from let’s get married and move to another country to let’s break up ???

Terry has plastic spoons we need an intervention

Holt says all his breakups were nice but there’s wooden duck guy

Scully has at least two kids

Jake stalks eddy fong cause he’s a lunatic

Jake says “i’m blind” which sends me to the mentalist episode

Holt’s sneaky dad lessons : good posture (go on guess...ya it’s jake again)

Just how often does jake say thrift store??

I really want all of jakes fake names to be names of people he arrested cause hes a work obsessed freak 42

Amy cant dance for shit

Jake CAN dance???

If holt told you to jump off a bridge – jake fucking would

Rosa’s face when she says ‘ive never dated anyone good’ REEKS of ‘i let the perfect girl get away because i didnt get out of my closet to ask her out” 43

Gina and boyle shag

[jigensass]

You know I was planning to do like a 5 to 6 part review of 2022 but wrote only two parts as to build up some big narrative about my life and how I changed for the better this year or some shit in some realization that I had finally figured myself out.

In reality, I haven’t changed a damn thing, if anything I’ve went 3 steps back in life.

It’s no surprise I’m mentally disabled. I tell anybody this IRL, all the time this is the reaction I get

‘Yeah it’s called drugs and not socializing because I know I’m a fucking weirdo’

I have to remind people constantly ‘if you don’t tell me that I upset you because of something I said/did, I’ve never going to pick up on it until it gets to a boiling point and then I’ll have a mental breakdown over something that a neurotypical would deem as benign’

Somehow one of my coworkers managed to ignore this statement for a literal year and a half until I subtly noticed them giving me the cold shoulder during one of my fits of paranoia that we all had to sit down and have an intervention about it because they couldn’t be straightforward with me. And all the other coworkers knew about it, and they were afraid to talk to me about it as well.

People just assume that I’m just okay with their bullshit insanity yet I am always the one who has to call out the neurotypicals out on their bullshit. Like they just think because I can make mountains move when I put my mind to it, that I can always do that 24/7 because I’m apparently Jesus to them. This includes being clairvoyant and telepathic. People have played that previous statement off as a joke to me when I don’t get the memo and have to call them out on their bullshit of when the message doesn’t get relayed to me when it should of.

But when I need/want one small thing done it takes literal weeks to get it done and when I needed that thing done, and the person who asked for me to get said thing done now has a metaphorical gun to the back of my head with my hands now being tied, and the person who should have gotten the thing done just IGNORES ME, YEAH I GET STRESSED OUT. I have gotten so cynical lately to subtly call people out on their idiocy by attaching old emails and screenshotting messages to respond to someone as to get the point across of ‘you dense motherfucker learn to fucking read’ when I get to a breaking point that people think it’s funny when I act this way.

It’s not funny, it’s sad and depressing. It sometimes gets to a point when I’ve been having suicidal thoughts.

And it’s caused me to do some pretty stupid shit (like spending hundreds of dollars on a gatcha game without remorse. There I said it)

Wanna know how many mental breakdowns I have had in this year alone? It’s a big number because I lost count.

That’s how stressed I’ve been. That’s how much I’ve been literally fucked in the ass. Now let me be clear. This year, I can say with a clear conscience no one on tumblr has treated me this way. My mental strain is all exerted from one source: my job.

I can see it now in the comments: ‘why don’t you just quit and find a better job?’ My response is, I’m getting paid $25 an hour to deal with idiots. Twenty-five American dollars every sixty minutes.

That’s 3.4 times higher than the national average.

Some days, the idiots are manageable. Other days, not so much.

But recently I have been noticing that the company has been accommodating me. But it’s only after I have hit the boiling point and have gone on a callout email thread. Also this is because I was forced into a position I never wanted to be in and surprise: high stress levels and me having to manage people equals a hell for everyone else. (This was partially my fault because I felt bad because the guy’s mom was on her death bed and he was doing what I was doing and unlike everyone else, I had the balls to call him out on his stupid streak aka constantly checking up in on work AS HIS MOTHER WAS DYING and he actually listened. Funny how no one calls me out on my stupid streaks and here we are)

It’s only after the damage has already been done that people go ‘oh shit, the asset is being serious’ as I lay crying in the corner.

And that what my life has become: I’m a joke of an asset. Because my anger of how people act on The Office is FUNNY.

My stress, paranoia, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts to people IS FUNNY.

And then they get upset when I give them the cold shoulder once.

I live in this hellhole that it’s okay for everyone else to have a ‘fuck it not my problem attitude when it is their problem’ but I have to constantly give a fuck. Even when I’m PTO. Yes my PTO days have become semi-anti stress days. I spent two weeks in August holed in my house because of the hell I went through in May-July. Last week I took two days off to recoup my losses and as soon as my PTO was over on day two, I was back on my laptop playing catch up for the next day.

Everyone else in this world is allowed to fall short except for me. Because I’m the only person who can get results and hit my target.

And then I ask myself why I gravitate to the ‘broken dad who is perfect at their job’ stereotype. Because if I had a penis, they would literally be me.

If you have gotten this far in rant, thanks? I guess?

I forgot to mention the part said how I felt to my family about Thanksgiving and even they have pushed me away because they finally realized how taxing I am to their environment because I spoke up on how I felt.

I know you, the person reading this, want to jump on my DM’s and into my inbox to tell me that what I wrote was wrong and I’m a beautiful person and blah blah blah. I have been down this road before. Words of encouragement are starting to become apathetic to me.

All I want in this hell we call life right now is one other soul who I can be genuinely honest with, as well as be myself without a filter. Someone who can accept me for my faults and not be afraid to call me out on my bullshit. Someone to be able support me after I’m done supporting everyone else. Someone to have around to know that everything’s okay so I can stop worrying for five minutes. Someone who just…gets me.

‘You mean a partner, right?’ Kind of, I guess.

People think I’m so complicated and high maintenance when in reality, I’m not. That I’m difficult to deal with. When in reality, I’m not. I’m just like everyone else when broken down to my main core, it’s just after 30 years of walking this earth, I’ve been everyone else’s punching bag that I’m beat up and worn out.

So when I beat back with words filled with truth or mixed with perceptive lies based on how I feel (usually anger), I just get shoved into a corner and expected to continue to process results like I don’t have feelings.

I don’t understand why my boss got to take a month and a half off this year yet for these last three weeks she had no PTO and told me to my face ‘I feel bad for doing this’. IF YOU FELT BAD THEN WHY DID YOU DO IT?

When I feel bad for doing something, I actually feel bad and guilt trip myself.

You want to know how I’ve back pedaled into any progress of good mental health I wanted to have this year?

Two words on repeat: ‘I’m sorry’ as a response to my existence.

Anyway, let the queen burn in Hell and RIP Kiyoshi Kobayashi

Here is to 2023 possibly being the same level of shit and maybe one person will wake the fuck up and realize how messed up in the head I am. Because lying to my psychiatrist that I’m happy isn’t working.