#vague post @ my ex

[i-am-not-a-who-i-am-a-what]

so about the header that proceeded today's statement:

Viability as agent: Low

Viability as subject: None

Viability as catalyst: Medium

i didn't know what to think of this part of the entry at first, but the longer the statement went on... was the institute in this universe trying to manufacture avatars?

the dice can't do anything without someone to use them, they can't be an "agent" by themselves, but might be capable of manipulation, so in that aspect their viability is "low."

the dice could be a "subject" in the sense that they could use further studying, but the statement itself was a very thorough investigation of their workings, so in that aspect their viability is "none."

the dice seem to influence their holder to roll them, or at least find more victims to roll them, and could therefore be described as a "catalyst" for someone's becoming. but, as seen in the statement, their owner can give the dice to someone else (albeit not without consequences), so in that aspect their viability is only "medium."

so what about the line following all this, what does "Recommend referral to Catalytics for Enrichment applicability assessment" mean? if we go by this interpretation, i'd say it could mean the institute wanted to find a way to make the dice even more potent as an artifact, maybe even remove that pesky ability for their owner to reject them.

imho all of this this brings a whole new level of context to the events of episode seven, of unknown violent agents going after an influx of objects that seemed straight out of artifact storage. was that the nature of the titular "magnus protocol" first mentioned in episode four, the one that involved the starkwall group? containing or destroying potential artifacts before the institute could get their hands on them?

it also makes their "gifted kids program," and sam's link to it as one of the kids being studied, all the more horrifying to think about. was it not just avatars in general they were after, but child avatars specifically? no wonder gertrude got so defensive over the possibility of sam and celia dragging gerry back into the institute's business last episode, we all picked up on her clearly knowing more than she's letting on but now we might know the shape of that information a bit better.

and one final bit of food for thought... this statement had a lot of familiar themes, didn't it? free will or the illusion of it, gambling and not-so-random chance, the statement giver being done in by one final hit from what feels like a bit of an addition... all hallmarks of a certain mother of puppets. doesn't it seem fitting that "chester" would use this kind of statement to warn sam about what harm pursuing the magnus institute could bring to him, considering the one his voice might draw from? and doesn't it seem so painfully ironic that his warning seems to have only driven sam further into that web?

[ineffable-kelpie]

Rating: T

Wordcount: 58,544

Chapters: 12/12

Summary:

Crowley has spent the last two years learning to cope with Aziraphale's absence. So when Aziraphale shows up with no memories, and Crowley is the only one who can help, it's not an easy thing to deal with.

(Crowley’s perspective of the events of Light the Corners of my Mind)

[arrows-and-ace-thetics]

For anyone else who may need to hear this today:

You will find people in your life who exactly what you can give is enough

You are allowed to set boundaries, you are allowed to not give everything

Looking after yourself means you can give more in the long run

You are enough

[radioroxx]

remembers my isat tattoo hcs from one million years ago

[altschmerzes]

prayer circle for everyone whose dash is just full of destiel posts right now. my blacklists and filtering are robust but not robust enough to catch all of it. happy for you or sorry that happened but why am i involved in it 😭

[rookflower]

have some ocs! misc riverclan guys

[coldairballoons]

hot take: your ttrpg worlds should functionally be able to exist without npcs. 

let me explain. 

i’ve had a dm in the past who prioritized the npc storylines over the actual player character storylines. this made every experience i had with him as my dm absolutely miserable, because you could tell that he only wanted to write a story, not tell one with other people. we were all just witnesses to his npc storytelling, very little more. it was less a game and more a one-man show, and this was not okay.

what i’ve learned in my time as a gm for various groups and various friends is this: people care about your npcs. but what they truly care about more is playing a game. they want to be involved. they want to tell their own stories and make their own choices. 

you should be able to run an entire session without the involvement of a single npc, because your party should be the priority. this isn’t to say that you can’t have npcs - in fact, good storytelling does oftentimes include other characters to push the story along. but the npcs should never overshadow the actual player characters.

that’s all 3am rant done

[p0rk-guts]

No one really understands my relationship with my gender or sexuality which I'm honestly fine with because heck I don't even truly understand it as of yet but I really hate when people who don't understand just pretend to and make assumptions about me.

I'm sure there are other people who can empathize with this but I'm really not fond of people who know or think they know your assignment gender at birth who hear about you being trans gnc and/or non-binary and instantly start skewing their perception of you in the "opposite direction".

I get that it's the easiest assumption for some people to make that when someone is trans they are either ftm or mtf and you'd want to validate someones gender expression but nonbinary people are real. Wow❕

I'm afab and multiple times after people I know found out I was nonbinary they just started referring to me and treating me like a guy. Even though I've never identified as a guy or said as such. Calling me a " handsome man" or a "handsome boy" whenever possible and to be perfectly honest with you it just made me gag

I see this same kind of thought process in fandom spaces where people will get upset when a trans nonbinary character (or any trans character in general) is portrayed in styles that are more aligned with their assigned gender at birth because It diminishes their transness? Or something?? Where am I

Anyways masc trans girls and fem trans guys make and nonbinary people who just fuck around with it make the world go round and always have. And I am neither woman nor man I am a furry fag first and foremost

[genderfluidsgetguns]

I wanna talk about Mads Buckley but my Mads Buckley friend isn't my friend anymore so now I have no one

I got over them quick but literally no one else in my life is as normal over Madds Buckley as they were so

[aquaticfreakshow-sys]

Oh no a vent post

[skhardwarevers1]

It’s times like these that remind me why I made pi in the first place

[king-mera]

I hate "whump" as a concept so much. Of course characters can get hurt and need taking care of but when I see it done excessively it just makes me feel awful. I don't want to see my favorite characters get tortured, I want to see them going on fun adventures and saving the day. It's so simple, I thought that's what we all wanted? To escape into a world where things turn out better? Well, no because some people are obsessed with pain.

[valeriianz]

are you still doing yearning prompts? can you please do "every time you smile i memorize it...." from the list?

what you're about to read doesn't go with this prompt... yet! have a snippet of what's going to be a long Photographer!Hob and Model!Dream au. it's completely outlined so hopefully i'll have it out within a week, but for now, have a little backstory on how they met:

Morpheus had tumbled into his life almost literally. He appeared at the bar Hob worked at, collapsing into a stool and ordering a gin and tonic without so much as a “how are you?” and Hob hadn’t paid much attention to him, at first. They certainly didn’t speak, except for the mundane, “can I get you another?” and a heavy nod from the shadow at the end of the bar.

Morpheus was like a shadow, back then. A wallflower clad in midnight black, all the way to his ruffled head of hair. His skin was milk white with a jawline that could cut. Hob found himself sneaking constant glances at him, finding something new every time. The way he sat, stiff and proper, like he didn’t know how to slouch. The way his fingers wrapped around the short glass, skeletal, but also soft, careful, like what he held in his hand was a precious thing. His face, however, contrasted his demeanor. It gave everything away, his eyes puffy and red, like he’d been crying. Maybe he had been, people who came to a bar alone usually shared in some sob story, though it was interesting that Morpheus hadn’t spoken yet, choosing instead to silently numb himself with gin. 

He was pretty, Hob had thought, in the way a knife was pretty. Cold hard steel, sharp, heavy, lethal. But something that could also get dull and worn down with time. Hob had been curious, had wondered what could dull this man’s edge– a man who affected this tone of grace and confidence, when surely he must’ve known how his eyes betrayed him.

Hob spoke to him as he set down his third drink. He doesn’t remember the details of that first conversation, but Hob does recall easing into it, like walking up to a stray cat. It was clear Morpheus wasn’t interested in discussing why he was alone and upset that night. So Hob instead broke the ice to ramble about the latest book he read, what classes he was taking, the weather, allowing each topic to prompt Morpheus to respond, slowly opening him up until that ramrod straight back finally began to loosen, bending forward. Soon enough the man had his elbows on the bar top, giving Hob his full, undivided attention.

Hob supposes he should remember more, given the crater Morpheus left in his life. But it had been a busy night, the bar was dark and loud, and if what had happened an hour later hadn’t come to pass, Hob most likely would have brushed off the interesting man in the corner as just another customer. 

As it happened, Morpheus had gotten drunk, was giving out his smile a little more freely, and was glaring daggers at another drunken fellow a few seats down who had been incessantly flirting with Hob.

Hob had a plan with the drunken lech, he always did with unwanted attention from patrons. He played along with the nicer compliments, bit his tongue at the lewder ones, and finally set the man’s check down once he’d said something vulgar about where Hob’s “pretty lips” could be used for. He’d of course said he wasn’t done and after Hob insisted yes, he was, the man had the gall to grab Hob’s arm and pull.

Now, Hob could defend himself, was no amateur in a brawl, and was about to use his free hand to grab the back of the guy's head and smack his face into the bar, when suddenly it had been done for him.

His stranger at the end of the bar was there in a flash, pulling the man’s head back up by the hair and shoving him hard enough to make him tumble backwards and off the stool. Hob took a baffled moment to simply gawk, watching with wide eyes as the man landed on the floor in a crumpled heap before Morpheus grabbed him by the collar to hoist him up again with a strength that probably surprised everyone who was now watching.

In the time it took to give the guy a right hook, causing everyone to emit a chorus of “ooh!” after the sickening sound of bone connecting with bone, Hob remembered he should break this up. He met his manager on the floor and grabbed Morpheus around the shoulders, turning him violently away at the same time his boss had the other man in a choke-hold. Morpheus had his hands up in surrender as Hob forcibly pulled him through the dining room and out the door.

Normally Hob took a great deal of pleasure kicking rowdy customers out, tossing them onto the sidewalk like a bag of trash, but as he pitched the man in his arms out into the cool night air, he knew he’d been smiling for a whole different reason. He shouldn’t find the drunken fight to be amusing, but rationality wasn’t Hob’s strong suit, back then.

Morpheus had stumbled, nearly getting tangled in his long legs, before swinging his head to regard Hob.

Hob had expected some kind of tantrum, a biting remark about how unfair this was, or an explanation, but instead what Morpheus had said was,

“I haven’t paid my bill.”

Hob snorted, watching him sway on the spot and breathing heavily, the adrenaline of the fight still obviously pulsing through his veins.

“Come back tomorrow.”

[unsound-unbody]

ok so white trans joy is not radical praxis but keeping an open heart is radical praxis and posting on the internet is radical praxis and facebook gift economies are radical praxis and

[lesbian-kyoru]

called me up at two a.m. when I had no other vices / a mix for suo and taichi (side b)

listen on spotify

side a

[fingertipsmp3]

Had THE funniest dream last night