#tool expendables

[demigod-shenanigans]

Feeling some type of way about Leo deciding Jason is the one who needs saving when Jason’s been the one saving people all his life.

The thing is, once they realize what the prophecy means, Jason decides if it’s him or Leo, it has to be him. He outright states this in his narration twice:

As much as Jason loved his life, he couldn’t let his friend die for his sake. He could never live with the guilt. ~ House of Hades

He knew the risks. But he wanted to take those risks himself, not put them on Leo. ~ Blood of Olympus

And the thing is, Leo knows this. Jason never tells him, but Leo still knows it. He doesn’t tell Jason and Piper his plan because he knows they’d never allow it. Because he knows Jason, stubborn hero leader that he was raised to be, would never let it be him.

Leo knows Jason would die for him and he will not allow it.

Thinking about how one of the first things Leo says when he manages to string words together after learning what happened to Jason in The Burning Maze is “He did what Jason always did. He saved the day.”

[yuechihua]

(spoilers for Harumasa's agent story!)

So, I think that Harumasa ultimately has a slight streak of pragmatism and utilitarianism, mainly in regards to himself. There is a calculation in his actions when it comes to how he wants others to perceive him as someone lazy (so they won't worry over him when his illness is genuinely serious). In his agent story quest, he doesn't hesitate to act in a self-sacrificial manner (despite the fact he wants to live no matter what!) if the overall result is more beneficial to other people than any negative consequence to himself.

He lets his spinal fluid get taken in place of the kids Kirishima is experimenting on because he reasons outwardly that he's used to the strain of the procedure, and it'll have more negative impacts on them and their life expectancy. He doesn't hesitate to inject what he thinks is a deadlier strain of the drug that his mentor made into himself, just so Kirishima couldn't get his hands on it and ruin more people's lives.

I think the way Harumasa uses himself and his own body can be attributed to his upbringing (he suffered similar experiments on his own person and that probably lend to a utilitarian mindset and disconnect with his own personhood), and personal mindset (his pragmatism towards his own perceived expendability, and his desire to protect other people).

At the same time, however, Harumasa never applies this philosophy to anyone else. When he interacts with Seth, he actually appreciates-- even admires-- that Seth has such a pure belief in protecting other people, and not sacrificing anyone to achieve a goal. Harumasa most likely feels similarly to Seth, but his own exception will always be himself.

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

The one-winged raven

Tool x reader. My first fic Expendables fic!

The gif belongs to @melancholyromance, who very kindly allowed me to use it.

(moodboard)

*****

🪽 Tool first meets you in a bar he often frequents in the evening, a quiet little place not far from his tattoo studio. He goes there rigorously alone, having never asked any of his friends, not even Barney, to accompany him; that place is only for him, to think, the memories he reflects over as he drinks whisky sometimes pleasant, sometimes wistful, more often sad or dramatic. 

🪽 That is enough for Tool. He can’t help finding you attractive, but given the way you reacted the two times other male patrons offered to buy you a drink or tried to flirt with you, it’s clear that you want to be left alone, and he doesn’t want to ruin this silent, simple harmony that you have slowly built together. He wonders why an attractive woman like you doesn’t have better places to spend her evenings at, preferably not alone, but in his chaotic, violent life, full of regrets and missed opportunities, you’ve become a sort of anchor, your quiet, reserved presence a rock he knows he can hold on to when the world around him becomes too frantic and incomprehensible. 

🪽 This state of affairs has gone on for a few years when suddenly one night, he doesn’t find you at your usual table. Tool is bothered but not worried, thinking that maybe you had something to do or went somewhere else for a change; he’s convinced he’ll see you soon, but he doesn’t, and in the end, once a few weeks have passed from your last night at the bar, he decides to ask the bartender, who unfortunately can’t help him, since he doesn’t even know your name, let alone why you have suddenly disappeared. Maybe she’s gone drinking somewhere else; this is not exactly the right place for a woman alone, he points out, and Tool has to agree. He is more upset about your absence than he thought he could feel, and now he dearly wishes he had tried to talk to you, at least once, at least to learn your name. But he never had, subconsciously thinking the two of you would go on simply sharing smiles and nods forever, and now he realises how idiotic that prospect has been; another regret, another lost opportunity, another woman he let slip away from his fingers rather than at least try to hold her back. 

🪽 A few days pass, and one night Tool is in his studio, cleaning at the end of the work day; his latest girlfriend, as usual a few decades younger than him, has broken up with him and left, and while saddened and disappointed, recently he has started feeling resignation mounting inside him every time something like this happens. He likes women, and women like him, they enjoy his company and gladly follow him home for the night; but sometimes he can’t help wishing for something different… something stable, or at least that lasts more than a calendar page. He doubts he’s boyfriend material, he’s probably never been - but part of him wishes things were different. 

🪽 He is feeling more melancholic than usual, and he’s about to return to his flat upstairs when he hears the door creak open. “May I come in? I’m sorry, I know it’s late but…” a woman’s voice calls, and then Tool, raising his gaze, meets yours, standing in his studio, finally after weeks, and it’s like he’s finally able to breathe again after so long. “Hello. Come in, we’re open.” he invites you, standing from his chair to meet you in the middle of the room, and you smile shyly, suddenly uncertain “What can I do for you? Are you here for a tattoo?” “I do, actually; I asked around, and people said you were the right person to come to; that you ask no questions, and keep your mouth shut. I… I had no idea we knew each other already...” 

🪽 Tool hurries to reassure you that he has no interest in your business, and that he won’t ask to know anything you don’t want to say freely. “What tattoo are you looking for?” he asks, intrigued, expecting to hear you ask for a butterfly, or a flower design - maybe even a partner’s name, which would be painful for him to create but normal; but you surprise him. “I want a one-winged raven, on my back.” you tell him, your tone almost challenging, as if daring him to protest or to comment. The truth is, Tool is surprised, and more than a little worried. “Do you have any idea what that tattoo means?” he asks, his arms to his chest, and you nod, determination filling your eyes. “I know it’s a tattoo soldiers get before leaving for a mission they know they have little chance of returning from; it’s meant to bring them luck, but also to remind them that, just like a one-winged bird cannot fly, their sinners’ souls will not reach heaven.” you explain “That is exactly what I need tonight; please, I don’t want to talk about it, just… can you help me?”

🪽 Tool bites back the many questions pressing behind his mouth, and respecting your need for privacy simply invites you to get comfortable. He can’t help stealing a glance as you take off your shirt and unclasp your bra, but he forces himself to look away, not wanting to give you the impression he is that sort of man -even though he sometimes is; but he wants not to be, at least when you’re there- and a minute later you’re lying on the tattoo bed, not much different from a gurney, while Toll prepares his instruments, determined to give you the best tattoo of his career, even though he can’t help fearing for you: he can see how determined you are, fear betrayed in the way your eyes dart around, as if expecting danger to appear from any corner, but mitigated by the strength and resoluteness tensing your muscles. Whatever dangerous task you are preparing to face, it must be very important, and Toll can’t help admiring your courage… and also wishing he could do something to help you.

🪽 He asks in a whisper whether you have ever gotten a tattoo before, and at your negative answer he warns you it might sting a little, and to tell him to stop if it hurts too much. You nod, your familiar shy smile appearing for a moment as you get comfortable. Tool sits beside the table and puts on his spectacles as he prepares his tattoo needle; for a moment his gaze falls on your breasts, pressed against the bed but perfectly visible from his position, and then he quickly looks away, as he orders himself to focus even though he feels like he’s thirteen again, prey of impulses he recognises but doesn’t know how to control. God, your skin is so soft under his fingers, warm despite the chill of the night, and he would happily give his own life to just rest his cheek against it, and maybe have you run your fingers through his hair… 

🪽 The whirring of the needle fills the room. Tool doesn’t even know your name, and he’s about to ask -you’re gonna share that at least, aren’t you?- when you anticipate him. “How long have you been a tattoo artist?” you ask quietly, turning your head to meet his eyes; Tool is focused on the tattoo, but he finds himself smiling, unaware of your piercing gaze on him. “Since I was a kid; been doing it more or less regularly since then. But I hadn’t done a half-raven in a long time.” “You are a soldier, right?” “Yeah, what gave me away?” “My brother is… was in the army; you look nothing alike, but there’s something in the way you move that reminds me of him.” Your smile falls; Tool can’t help wondering if your brother knows about the danger you’re going to meet, if he cares, if he has tried to stop you; he won’t, because it’s not his place, and he hopes that your raven, even though lacking a wing, will be able to carry you to safety. 

🪽 There is an unexpressed, striking intimacy in a person working on another’s skin; Tool has had his share of attractive clients -and he has tattooed more private parts of their bodies than a back- but he can feel his heart pounding as he finishes up your tattoo, the more wistful part of him wishing he could spend the rest of the night like this; there is absolutely nothing romantic or sexual about the way he’s touching you, but Tool knows he’s never felt closer to a woman in his life. 

🪽 The experience is unexpectedly intimate for you as well. You knew getting a tattoo would require some form of physical contact with the artist, not to mention you’d have to be naked from the waist up, but you didn’t really focus on that, too preoccupied as you were on the task that awaited you. At most, you hoped the tattoo artist would not take advantage of the proximity to harass you; but you never expected something like this, the gentle, almost shy touch of his fingers on your skin, and the perception he’s almost holding his breath, as if he feared upsetting you if he only rested a hand on the small of your back to help himself. The fact that you were already acquainted with each other should represent a problem, given the importance of keeping the matter secret, but recognising the tattoo artist as the imposing but gentle-looking man you have locked eyes with at your favourite bar so many times actually feels soothing, a sign of fate, maybe, even though you’ve never believed in that sort of thing. 

🪽 The truth is, his presence makes you feel less alone. You haven’t shared what you plan to do with any of your friends, knowing they would try to dissuade you -and, you have to admit, fearing they could succeed- and you’ve felt so lonely since he left, but right now… being close to this man you don’t even know the name of, actually fills your heart with a peaceful sort of warmth you had never experienced before. Given your choice of tattoo he probably imagines what you’re about to do; you could tell him, and you know he would listen, and understand. As a former soldier, he has no doubt seen, and maybe done, much worse, but it’s not just that; you know, you just know, that he would care - and maybe that is what you need the most: someone who empathises with your reasons, and respects them rather than trying to change your mind.

🪽 “Alright, all done.” Tool says in the end, using a rag to meticulously clean your back “Here, have a look.” He offers you a mirror to observe the tattoo, which is beautiful, the bird’s body covering the area above your spine, its left wing spread over your skin with the tip of its feathers caressing your side, and the right side left bare, the signs of the wing’s removal evident on the flesh, as if the appendage had been bitten off or amputated. It’s unsettling, in a way, but absolutely perfect. “It’s amazing; I love it.” you exclaim, the enthusiasm having made you forget the gravity of your situation for a moment, and Tool smiles, pleased and even relieved. “I’m glad you like it.” he comments, before giving you a few tips to take care of your new tattoo -pat it dry rather than scrub it, apply an ointment three times a day, avoid exposing it to the sun for two weeks- that you listen intently. You doubt you’ll get to follow his instructions, since you’ll probably be dead in twenty-four hours, and he should at least consider the possibility, since he knows the meaning behind the tattoo you requested. 

🪽 Nevertheless, neither mentions the possibility that beautiful one-winged raven will soon adorn the body of a dead woman, and when you retrieve your wallet from your bag he stops you, explaining that artists usually consider getting paid for half-ravens, like they are usually known, to be bad luck. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” “It’s alright; it’s not like I had other clients anyway.” he reassures you, his demeanor now openly friendly, as if he now felt more at ease in your presence; it makes you happy, even though you couldn’t explain why. 

🪽 Silence falls on the two of you; Toll is painfully aware that you have nothing else to talk about, that small talk would be ridiculous in a situation like yours, and that even if he wanted to stop you from whatever dangerous task you’re preparing yourself for, it would be useless in the best of cases and completely inappropriate in the worst. Still, he wishes he could do something for you - not to protect you, but at least to comfort the sadness he sees shining in your eyes. “I’m glad it was you who did it.” you murmur in the end. “And I’m happy I got to do it. Take care of yourself, alright?” Tool asks. You promise you’ll try -and you will; whether you can actually manage it’s a different matter altogether- and prepare to leave, suddenly embarrassed you have overstayed your welcome; you turn to look at him one last time when you’re at the door, you share a smile, and a moment later you have disappeared, leaving him alone once again. 

🪽 Tool finds himself thinking about you often over the next day, torn between wistfulness and the pleasure the memory of the brief moment you’ve lived together evokes in him. He is convinced he’ll never see you again, but he hopes the half-raven will protect you from danger, and you’ll be able to find some peace and closure after that; whatever happens, you’ll carry a part of him with and on you forever, and that is, if not enough, of some consolation for him. 

🪽 “You seem in a good mood.” Barney mentions when they meet in the afternoon, having noticed how pensive Tool looks, and the vague smile on his lips “Are you thinking about a girl?” “It’s a woman, not a girl.” Tool reflexively specifies “And… well, it’s not someone I’m seeing or anything. She’s…” He doesn’t know how to explain the truth, the paradoxical situation of having known someone for years and yet, having spoken to her only once and not even knowing her name. He’s tempted to share the truth with his friend, since Barney knows the meaning of the tattoo he gave you and would understand what he feels, but he knows you would want him to keep the truth to himself. “... she’s different.” he concludes, and Barney looks at him, clearly intrigued, but decides not to press the matter.

🪽 Night clients are not unusual for the studio, and Tool finds himself closing even later than usual. He has just locked the door, and he’s about to turn off the lights when he hears knocking. “We’re closed.” he calls, but the knocking comes again, more and more insistently, as if the person outside were determined to enter; Tool sighs, retrieves his gun from under the counter and sticks it in his belt before approaching the door. He opens it… and has to bite back a scream. “Oh, God…” he murmurs, and you, lying on the ground in the way of someone who simply lacked the strength to keep herself upright, manage to lift your face to look at him; Tool can see blood on your clothes, and he’s about to ask what happened when you murmur “Help?” and then lose consciousness, your head hitting the sidewalk.

🪽 When you regain your senses, you find yourself lying on the tattoo bed once more - on your back this time, while Tool is busy cleaning and bandaging the wound on your arm. “I had to take your shirt off, hope you don’t mind.” he points out, and you nod numbly, relieved that you were wearing a tank-top underneath; modesty should be the least of your worries at the moment, but still. “Is it bad? It hurts so much.” you murmur, too weak to even speak properly, and Tool explains that you were actually lucky, since the bullet only grazed your arm, and the wound will heal even though you’ll need to have a doctor see you. He can see the signs of a severe beating on you, bruises blossoming on your skin, and he is filled with anger. “Who did this to you? Tell me, I’m gonna make those bastards rue the day they were born.” he says, momentarily forgetting he has no right to stick his nose in your business, and you smile faintly, more touched than you could express in words.

🪽 “It’s fine. I’m sorry I came here, but I needed help and I knew there was no one else I could ask.” you confess, and now it’s Tool’s turn to feel affected. That you chose to come to him rather than to any of your friends… as if you trusted him, and knew you had nothing to fear in his company. “It’s alright; you’ll be safe here, I promise.” he says, and you smile gratefully, finally letting go of the tension that has kept you going for weeks, and allowing yourself to rest. Neither says it, but you’re both thinking the same thing: that you have done what you had tasked yourself to do, and survived, against all odds, which means that your half-raven did protect you, and despite its impairment it managed to carry you to safety. 

🪽 Tool does his best for your wound and gives you painkillers. “Are you a medic, as well as a soldier and a tattoo artist?” you ask, amused, and he shrugs, explaining that in his line of work one doesn’t always have the luxury of a medical professional ready to intervene, and so he decided to make a virtue of necessity. He invites you to rest, but you’re actually feeling pretty well, beside the pain in your arm; you feel… lighter, as if you had freed yourself from an enormous weight you had carried for a long time. “I don’t even know your name.” you murmur in the end, while Tool returns to the chair by your side; you can feel yourself growing sleepy, probably because of the painkillers, and you want to at least to know the name of the man you owe so much to, and him to know yours. “My name’s Tool; not my real name, but everybody calls me that. What about you?” “I’m (name). Tool… thank you; seriously, I’m sorry for all of this, but I knew I could trust you...”

🪽 And you do; you really do, enough to share what you did, and the reason for the tattoo you wanted to get. You tell Tool about your brother, who you had always been extremely close to, and who died a month ago, killed by a local criminal who had accused him of having an affair with his wife. Your poor brother was ambushed as he returned home late from work; the footage of a nearby bank’s CCTV clearly showed his killer and two associates ambushing him, shooting him and leaving him for dead, but the man, who had powerful friends in the city and even more people who owed him favours, was able to be acquitted. You couldn’t accept that your brother’s murderer had walked free, and decided it was up to you to get revenge for what that bastard had done; you obtained a gun and went to the man’s favourite bar, where he often spent his evenings. You waited for him to exit through the back-door for a smoke, and shot him. Your victim, obviously, didn’t just stand there waiting for you to kill him; he had a gun of his own, that he always carried with him for safety, and it’s him you have to thank for the bullet that grazed your arm. You ended up brawling on the dirty asphalt, the man’s hands tight around your throat, but you were able to retrieve your gun and to shoot him in the chest, thrice for good measure. You ran away before someone could see you, stumbling and soon getting lost among the alleys…

🪽 “... until suddenly I realised I was only a few minutes away from this place; I thought about you, and… well, I knew I’d be safe here.” you admit, sounding apologetic as if you feared hearing him say you had given him enough trouble, and you needed to leave as soon as possible. What Tool feels is the exact opposite; he grins, and assures you he’s happy to see you, and admires your determination to get revenge for your brother. You tell him you just need a moment of rest and then you’ll leave, but the sleepiness soon overcomes you, and before you know it you’re sleeping soundly on the tattoo bed; Tool takes a blanket from his apartment upstairs to cover you with and makes sure the door is locked and all the windows closed. He lingers for a moment by your side, observing how peaceful your sleeping face looks, as if you had finally found some relief from the pain of your brother’s loss. Who knows, he can’t help thinking, if this is what you’d look like when you are sleeping in a bed, your bed, held in your lover’s arms…

🪽 He forces himself to leave, not wanting to look like a creep in case you woke up and found him standing there staring at you, and when he returns downstairs on the next morning, carrying a cup of coffee he has just brewed for you, he finds the room empty, and a slip of paper on the tattoo bed, a trace of the warmth of your body still lingering on the faux leather. Thank you. I’ll see you soon, the message says, and while disappointed, Tool can’t help smiling. 

🪽 He’s back at the bar the next evening, and he finds his usual table occupied - by you. “I thought I owed you at least a drink, or a dozen.” you point out smiling. You seem back to your usual self, your makeup covering the bruises and the bandage on your arm hidden under your shirt’s sleeve, but most of all you seem serene, vaguely melancholic because of the loss you suffered but content, and clearly happy to see him “I hope you don’t mind.” “I never refuse a drink from a beautiful woman.” Tool answers, but before he can regret his boldness he sees you blush furiously. You spend hours talking about your lives and sharing secrets and thoughts you normally would only discuss with your closest friends; both of you can feel your legs touching under the table, and in the end Tool insists on walking you home. 

🪽 It’s there, at the door you have just opened, that you and Tool share your first kiss, your hands clutching the lapels of his jacket as his cradle your hips. It’s soft, slow, gentle but passionate, and makes both of you shiver; you’re smiling when you finally part, resting your forehead against his for a moment before letting him go.  

🪽 You have exchanged numbers, and you begin seeing each other over the next weeks; it’s been a long time since either of you had a meaningful relationship, so at times you feel a little awkward. Tool is terrified of involuntarily hurting you, while you sometimes struggle to focus on the joy your newfound relationship has brought into your life, given the pain of the still recent loss of your brother. In times, despite the occasional misunderstanding and disagreement, you quickly grow close, spending much time together; neither thought it would be possible for you to come to care so much for another person at your age, but you do, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it. You cuddle on the sofa as you watch a movie, and you keep Tool company as he works in his studio; you keep spending your evenings at the bar, now sitting together at the same table.

🪽 Tool tells you about his job with the Expendables, and is relieved when you, while not exactly unfazed, express a desire to meet his friends. You’re a little nervous, since you know how much Barney and the others mean to Toll, but thank God the meeting, on occasion of a cookout you host in your backyard, is a complete success. The guys joke that they can’t see what you find in Tool and some of them might decide to steal you away, but you, while flattered -you have never seen so many attractive men your age together!- make it clear that you deeply care for Tool and are determined to keep your relationship exclusive like you have decided together. You and Barney quickly become friendly. 

🪽 The police are investigating the death of the man you killed, and you are among the suspects, since they consider your brother’s death, and the man’s acquittal, a valid motive. Fortunately, Tool is with you when they arrive at your home to interview you; he quickly, discreetly texts Barney, and in a minute him and the others arrive for a courtesy visit, and they explain to the agents that on the night your victim was killed you were all together in Tool’s studio, since the two of you had recently started a relationship. The agents are a little suspicious, since a simple background check is enough for them to realise Tool and the others all have a pretty questionable background, but having seven witnesses insisting on your innocence convinces them, not to mention that the list of your victim’s enemies, men and women who had reason to hate and want to kill him, is longer than you are tall. Finally, the agents leave to conduct other interviews, and you breathe a sigh of relief. You had already considered the possibility of spending the rest of your life behind bars, and would have accepted it if it meant doing justice to your brother’s memory, but you can’t deny you’d strongly prefer remaining free… especially since you can’t keep dating Tool if you get arrested, can you? You thank Barney and the others profusely, and they easily assure you they were happy to save your ass, both for your and their friend’s sake. 

🪽 One night, as you are sharing a drink in your living room, Tool tells you about the woman he failed to save in Bosnia, of how guilty he still feels, and of how he fears that was his last chance to save his soul, to redeem himself of all the sins he committed in his life. You admit that saving the woman would have probably been the right thing to do, but at the same time, it wasn’t up to him to tell a stranger how to live her life. “I know suicide is rarely the answer and every life is precious, but it’s also ours to live, and we have the right to decide what to do with it. Maybe that woman had lost someone she loved, or she was gravely ill; maybe dying on that day was what she really needed, and you had no right to try and change her mind.” you comment gently. Tool can’t help fearing you are simply trying to comfort him rather than saying what you really think, but your words do make him feel better. He’ll always feel guilty for what he did, but now that he has you in his life, he decides as he holds you against himself, your cheek resting against his shoulder, he’ll make sure nothing bad happens in your life ever again. 

🪽 “I’m very happy I met you, you know? Not just because you patched me up, and your friends helped me avoid being thrown in jail; I’ll always be grateful for that. But you… you gave me something I hadn’t felt in decades. When I’m with you I’m happy… and I never want to let this go.” you murmur, gentle and almost shy months after you first declared your feelings for each other, and Tool smiles, touched beyond words. “We won’t; I promise.” he murmurs; he kisses your temple and holds your warm body in his arms, thinking that he’ll protect you with his life if need be, and make sure you never regret deciding to share your life with him. 

This fic is dedicated to all the kind, generous people who have supported me in my moment of uncertainty; this is the fic I was feeling the most insecure about, and as you expected, I am so happy I got to write it! Your support was invaluable; thank you so much!!!

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork @emmanuellechecchi @ass-deep-in-demons @montyc @urinarythreatinfection @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras

[melancholyromance]

TOOLS TATTOOS • The Expendables

[ndostairlyrium]

ah

I love the smell of fics about the mundanification of mafia in the morning <3

[thatswhatsushesaid]

was having fic planning thoughts and then came to the realization that actually (despite being a minor character) wzl actually shares a parallel with jgy - in that both are more outcasts from the wider cultivation world (though for very different reasons) and both seek safety with powerful sects (no matter what they might have to do to ensure that, though ironically it's that same position that later leaves them in danger); not to mention the name changes - they both changed their last names to that of the sect they ended up joining (until death)!

mdzs really is a story firmly rooted in textual parallels!

tho i would note that jgy never took a wen or nie courtesy name even while in service to nmj and wrh. his goal was always to gain jgs’s recognition and acceptance so that he could be granted what he had been raised by meng shi to understand was his birthright. imo there was never any question in his mind about who he was even while serving the nie and the wen. he was always a jin; he just had to make jgs believe it, too.

[desertdragon]

This shit is so ass I just want it to be over

[kirnet]

Man I feel like I’ve been fighting every drawing I do for the last few months. Like I can’t even doodle anymore. It’s all just… blocked? Restricted in some way? I can get a good end product, sure, but I’ve lost all my fluidity and the ability to just spit something out onto the page. Everything takes multiple iterations now before it’s anything serviceable, and each one of those takes pushing and pulling and prodding to get to that point.

The answer is probably that I need to do some studies, or that I need to work in a new medium for a while, or that I actually need to start using my sketchbook again, which. Yes. I feel like I’m missing whole limbs when I don’t do all that. But drawing/ painting has never been easy for me? It’s always been this laborious process. One I enjoy, one I love, but now I’m just growing increasingly frustrated that something that should take me 20 minutes, that would take a better artist 20 minutes, is taking me 2 hours

[daydreamerdrew]

Bizarre Adventures (1981) #25

[baronvontribble]

are people really using the lying hallucinating machine to: -weigh in on decisions about what is and isn't humanly edible -give coherent and true summaries of literally anything -GIVE YOU ANSWERS TO ANY SERIOUS QUESTIONS?? -FOLLOW BASIC MATHEMATICAL PRINCIPLES OF REALITY EFFECTIVELY???

take it from the person who loves writing about robots: chatGPT is fucking dumb. it works based on repetition, SEO, memetics, and feedback, none of which promote accuracy. it is the worst way to search any info you could possibly want. not only does it lie and just make shit up to make you happy, it bases those lies on aggregate sources that are boosted not by any method of actual verification, but by SEO.

what's SEO? well that's Search Engine Optimization, baby. strap in we're gonna do an example.

think about tumblr bots, alright? now, why do we block a tumblr bot? because they're annoying? no, we block them because they use their like-spamming to add search engine legitimacy to their scammy links in their bios. essentially, because of the way tumblr links to every user that ever likes or reblogs or interacts with a post on every post's individual linked page, every single one of those links is telling google's search engine that THIS scammer's page is totally legit. this boosts its algorithmic potential and makes it so that it appears higher up on search results than its scammy competitors.

but andy, you think, why are you going into a description of tumblr bots? well, reader, it's because this same principle also applies to viral posts. and what goes viral on tumblr? really funny trolling, lies, and people being generally obtuse and digging their own graves. tumblr is the town square and our algorithm is each other's interest; we delight in pointing at the latest pair of squeaky clown shoes being worn, and will drag the wearer out for everyone to see.

this. is bad. when you are an AI 'search' tool based on repetition, memetics, and SEO. because you were never taught to separate 'viral' from 'real'.

a search tool based on virality will tell you to eat a tide pod because they're a secret kind of candy. a search tool based on virality will tell you poinsettias and lilies are great to keep around your cats, and that you should put garlic in their food. a search tool based on virality will tell you that the best way to figure out whether bread is done is to stick your dick in it.

(it should go without saying but i'm going to say it anyway: DO NOT DO THESE THINGS BY THE WAY. YOU WILL DIE AND BE IN HORRIBLE PAIN AND SO WILL YOUR CAT.)

remember this rule, kids, and remember it well: a lie will go around the world twice while the truth is still getting its pants on. while it's fun to dunk and debunk, dunking and debunking doesn't reach the same eyeballs as the original thought, and by the time you're done you have five new ones to dunk on and debunk. and AI 'search' tools will never be able to distinguish the truth from the lie by design.

because here's the nastiest part of all: AI 'search' tools' results are then fed by the way people engage with the results. If the insane result goes viral, it doesn't get corrected, it gets reinforced. engagement, ragebait, corrections, all of these don't bring attention to a problem, they tell the AI it's done a good job making something that people engage with, and it will keep right on lying.

you can't if-then your way out of every lie it spits out because it's like trying to keep a lawnmower from making grass cuttings one blade of grass at a time. it's what it's designed to do. it's baked into the concept because people didn't think that their fun new toy needed to be able to tell the truth, and didn't realize what that would mean when it was asked serious questions. they just wanted it to earn more clicks, more eyes, more engagement, so that they could use that to farm more data that they can sell.

when you can't see what product being sold is, you are the product.

AI 'search' tools are genuinely dangerous, genuinely harmful to discourse, and genuinely something you should be critical of. even beyond their environmental impacts, intellectual property violations, worker's rights violations, this shit is bad, and its cousins in image and longer form text generation are worse.

we cannot allow our critical thinking skills to be eroded by these things. fight them. fight them at every turn. do not allow them into your spaces and do not allow them into your life. complacency is how they get their foot in the door to normalization, and normalization of this kind of shit is another nail in the world's coffin. i'm not kidding. it should be enough for you people that it's a theft-based hallucinatory lie machine but apparently it's not so here we are.

thank you for reading. now if you'll all excuse me, i'm going to go chug something caffeinated and deep-clean the microwave

[holybent]

it's sinday and that means it's time to analyze maggie's relationship with physical intimacy

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than sleepn't

Made the Tales of Berseria break souls into cards

[aficionadoenthusiast]

yes, percy rose through the ranks of new rome disturbingly fast. no, jason did not do the same at camp half blood. yes, percy's rise to leadership at both camps took about two weeks and was completely unplanned. no, the same cannot be said for jason. his rise was carefully planned and took over a decade. they're both children of the big three, but where percy thrums with raw power, jason is a sword honed by zeus and hera. where percy is a survivor, jason is a weapon. where percy is a cycle breaker, jason can't get out. jason's fatal flaw was temptation to deliberate because he never managed to make his own choices. he was every classic definition of a hero rolled into one, and he never questioned it because his happiness came after the responsibility. jason was never going to ascend as fast as percy because jason was raised on hard work and discipline while percy, an abuse survivor and child of poverty, knew when to fight dirty. where jason was a transplant, percy was an invasive species. jason was always going to die because he was never more than a tool for the gods to throw away when he outlived his usefulness, or when he started to question his place. if someone as locked down as jason can question the system, anyone can. now that luke has put thoughts of overthrow in everyone's heads, zeus has to be very careful because while jason was expendable as his weapon, percy was unexpected in every way. zeus has no plan for him. when percy dies, he will become a martyr, so he can't die, except now everyone knows that percy doesn't want to be a god either. jason had to die, and now percy has to live.

[melancholyromance]

[applepixls]

Anyone else thinking about how odd the hermitcraft economy is?

in season 9 they had a minor economic recession after the diamond ore war because there were far too many diamonds in circulation making them (hypothetically) worth less than normal and ren stepped in as the king and did what has been done in the midst of a lot of irl economic depressions; he created a government so they could employ the policy of Keynesian economics (basically more gov't intervention to stabilize the economy, it mostly worked in 1930's japan!), he took control of diamonds and even introduced a new currency, royal emeralds (much like Germany after WW1! they had some hyperinflation because of the war reparations they had to pay and the gov't not understanding that printing more money makes the money worth less resulting in the mark [currency] being so worthless they started burning it because they couldn't afford wood for fires. a new gov't came into power and they replaced the mark with rentenmarks which did a lot of fixificating for the economy). Ren's gov't also introduced a lot of gov't funded projects like the quests (the irl equivalent for this would be Roosevelt's New Deal which introduced policies/projects called the Alphabet Agencies (among other things) such as the AAA, CCC, TVA (do you see why they're called the alphabet agencies?) that would adjust the value of grain so farmers could start earning money for produce again and create work that would support a growing economy, projects like building roads and bridges)

so basically, all the policies ren's government introduced were very logically sound and worked in real life to fix the economy (except that irl the Great Depression only fully ended because WW2 started-), the issue is that hermitcraft is not real life and hermits do not behave like real people, they behave like hermits.

lets start with the hermitcraft economy. unlike the real economy, hermits rarely adjust prices according to how many diamonds are "in circulation". i say this despite the fact grian in a recent-ish episode says that "everything costs more this season because diamonds are more common". that can't be true because the caves and cliffs update literally made diamonds more difficult to acquire. I will circle back to this point made by grian later

hermits not adjusting prices by server-wide abundance of diamonds (because they cant really know how much anyone has, much less the total amount of diamonds in circulation, they just know who has a lot and who is broke) means that more diamonds doesn't make them worth less like it did with German marks, it just means hermits have more expendable currency and can spend more money and less time gathering materials for projects. It is also notable that diamonds are constantly being added and taken out of circulation because they're an actual useful currency rather than real life currencies which are symbolic slips of paper. diamonds can be used for armour and tools and it can be acquired by mining. so because of how hermits spend money, taking diamonds out of the economy in s9 did nothing but make them poor and angry at the government. the hermitcraft economy is actually stronger with more diamonds in circulation and is worsened by gov't intervention.

so already the use of real life strategies is utterly useless in hermitcraft economy but there are a few other reasons as well

the hermits tendency to resist government as well as the flawed and greedy government itself are a couple but also the fact that all the hermits are self employed (in real life but also in universe). they own and stock their own shops meaning all profits are more or less direct; its not passed through hands of big corporations so the person producing the product gets mere cents. the hermits are essentially small business owners (which becomes a bit of a problem come season 10 but we're still talking about season 9). The important part is the self employment. the season 9 gov't introduces the quests which mimic and echo real life government funded projects but because they're all employed and the quests gave small amounts of diamonds back, they did very little for the hermits

I'm sure theres more to say but i think its time to move on to the very interesting season 10 economy

if you've missed it you must be living under a rock but hermits are all using permits this season meaning only one shop in the shopping district is selling any given item/material and as a result of this prices have gone sky high. at one point a single stack of mangrove logs cost 7 diamonds when in previous seasons you could get at least 1 stack of wood for 1 diamond if not more

So what is causing this economic depression and hyperinflation?

well, circling back to the point grian made about resources costing more because of abundance of diamonds, I would think it actually costs more because of the permits.

grian thinks the diamond prices are fair because he has middle of the road permits (and is one of the hermits who designed their shopping district, permit and economic system this season so he's biased), there is enough demand to keep him afloat when he's stocked but its nothing people are clamouring for and buying him out. on the other hand, joel made a lot of shops that no one shops at because his objectively weighted permits have not been selling as well as they anticipated when making the permits (also some people like etho and pearl have additional income from their not as fabulous permits because they've made a pay to play game to go with it) and finally there are hermits like mumbo whose gold, iron and item frame shops were constantly getting bought out so he was frustrated with trying to restock despite getting lots of profit

(another interesting dynamic to think about is permits like cleo's book permit which lost value as the season went on because everyone needed books early on but now that they're all playing late game Minecraft, everyone is pretty stocked up and buying from cleo less often)

Basically, grian is satisfied with the pricing because he's middle class and couldn't afford it if they were more expensive but appreciates not being constantly out of stock, joel is unsatisfied because he is lower class and never has enough expendable currency to fund his projects because materials are too expensive and his permits aren't worth enough to sell them for more, and mumbo is unsatisfied because he is higher class and is constantly out of stock because his materials sell out too often and he wants to sell them for more to stay in stock more (classic supply and demand, he doesn't want to stock them as often making the supply lower and the demand proportionally higher making them worth more and therefore more expensive)

the reason i say the permits are to blame for the high prices is because they cause the responsibility of constantly stocking something to fall on one person (in past seasons, if one persons sandstone shop was out of stock you could go check someone else's sandstone shop). the threat of taking the permit away if they arent stocked along with the difficulty of constantly stocking some of these materials raises the cost.

a great example of this is skizzleman because his mangrove and cherry wood shop was one of the first shops to be built in the shopping district, meaning he somewhat set the prices this season. now, mangrove and cherry are both difficult trees to harvest because of their unconventional shapes and the fact that they are more recent additions (and skizz's stubborn desire to design his own farms...) so because of the time required to gather them the prices already were hitched up. add that to the fact that they are trying to constantly be in stock and therefore low prices that allow hermits to completely buy out the shops are unfavourable, and you get sky rocket-ing prices. (it is also difficult because skizz had no prior experience with hermitcraft pricing)

in conclusion... hermitcraft needs a laissez-faire economy (f. a. hayek) to function and not go into economic depression. Between the nature of the diamond currency, hermits' tendency to rebel against governments, the way they use the concept of supply and demand to price their goods, and the restrictions permits put on supplying products, hermits have proven that extensive structure and government intervention have not improved economic wellbeing the way that it does in real life

thus, hermits do not behave like regular humans, they operate on fae laws of its funny so lets do it and therefore must be governed as such (aka not governed), thank you for coming to my ted talk

[chondrichthyes-x-mantodea]

Sooooo as someone going into fields that contain biology I think it's time we talk about how we see it from a fully male perspective. It's gotten to the point for me that I cannot listen to men talk biology, specifically reproduction. When we talk about male competition, we talk about it as "the right to mate". However this sees reproduction as a sentient, default specimen (male) doing to the secondary, inanimate vessel (female). In reality males fight for the CHANCE to win female attention. Females will forever be more selective sexually in the majority of animals. This is because females expend more energy in reproduction (the simple fact eggs are the larger gamete). Even in most fish, where care is commonly paternal, you will find heavy selection on the female side. Females are not fought over like an object to earn or "inseminate" the pure attention we give is what's fought over. Females almost always control their species. Look at tiger endlers. It may seem like the males harass females, but females actually CHOOSE exactly which sperm they concieve with and retain sperm for up to a year (trust me I have SEEN it myself). There's also this notion that males are all about genetics while female is about love or is about being a vessel. That's laughable. Females want their genetics to succeed just as much as males. They just dont have to fight as much because they have the limited gamete, its not a competition to be chosen when the other sex is unlimited. And the way we talk about paternal vs maternal. Paternal animals are all about "self preservation" but maternal animals are robots to their love. Dont get me started on how people act when I tell them my betta males do the incubating. We like to see it as a male competing to spread his genes and not a female choosing to complete her genes with the perfect individual. Every time someone tries to symbolize sex this shit comes into play. Male is the default that uses female as his tool. Be it describing it as penetration, fertilization, and much more. On the topic of "fertilization" did you know that the egg chooses the sperm? Did you know eggs are more complex than sperm? Did you know that eggs are not infertile without a sperm they just arent a embryo? We see female as defined by male, made valueable by male. A vessel filled by male. I think it's time for females to realize that nature is actually quite female centered. Hopefully as we get more women in this field, that will change. Because right now I'm starting to learn that a lot of science is worded in a way so males can cope with actually being quite lesser than females and at our disposal.

Edit: thanks for all the attention everyone! I've always wanted a space I could talk about this sort of thing. Glad to know I'm not alone on this. Trying to be in this field as a feminist can be insufferable