i really gotta wonder what goes through the heads of people that are adopt don't shop EXCEPT when it comes to service dogs. as if this somehow makes them noble? as if service dog users are the only people in the world that deserve dogs with stable temperaments or dogs that are bred with thought towards their health and structure? it's a really bizarre way of thinking that really, to me, harkens to the ARAs that are anti sled dogs until it's somebody doing it for fun only or until you mention indigenous people. are you so afraid of looking ignorant for your ill held beliefs? is challenging your currently held beliefs about what's 'morally right' for dogs that uncomfortable?

there are so many other jobs that dogs currently DO for us that require balanced, stable, healthy, purposeful dogs (including companionship!) and on top of all this dogs deserve to exist with thought and care put towards their existence. Dogs do not deserve to only exist if they're random happenstances from backroad strays or somebody's ill conceived backyard litter with zero health testing. dogs deserve responsible breeding just as much as humans deserve to have dogs with responsible breeding. how is this remotely hard to grasp?

Please be aware that the "opt-out" choice is just a way to try to appease people. But Tumblr has not been transparent about when has data been sold and shared with AI companies, and there are sources that confirm that data has already been shared before the toggle was even provided to users.

Also, it seems to include data they should not have been able to give under any circumstance, including that of deactivated blogs, private messages and conversations, stuff from private blogs, and so on.

Do not believe that "AI companies will honor the "opt-out request retroactively". Once they've got their hands on your data (and they have), they won't be "honoring" an opt-out option retroactively. There is no way to confirm or deny what data do they have: The fact they are completely opaque on what do they currently "own" and have, means that they can do whatever they want with it. How can you prove they have your data if they don't give everyone free access to see what they've stolen already?

So, yeah, opt out of data sharing, but be aware that this isn't stopping anyone from taking your data. They already have been taking it, before you were given that option. Go and go to Tumblr's Suppport and leave your Feedback on this (politely, but firmly- not everyone in the company is responsible for this.)

Finally: Opt out is not good under any circumstance. Deactivated people can't opt out. People who have lost their passwords can't opt out. People who can't access internet or computers can't opt out. People who had their content reposted can't opt out. Dead people can't opt out. When DeviantArt released their AI image generator, saying that it wasn't trained on people who didn't consent to it, it was proven it could easily replicate the styles of people who had passed away, as seen here. So, yeah. AI companies cannot be trusted to have any sort of respect for people's data and content, because this entire thing is just a data laundering scheme.

Please do reblog for awareness.

My Boss: you're taking too long to do things, if you run into issues tell me immediately

Me: ok, will do

My Boss: so how are things going, did you make progress on the thing?

Me: I'm having issues, the only way I can get it to work is if I do X

Boss: we can't do X anymore

Me: well in that case I cannot do the thing and need help

Boss: how about you mess with the thing some more until it works and then come back to me

Me *internally*: I just told you I cannot do the thing no matter what I try but you want me to continue to screw around with it and then come back to you later to cry for help when I've already made it clear that I'm incapable of completing the task without assistance and need help now >:[

Me *externally*: ok, I will keep working on it

33 in hand holding with leto?

Sorry this took so long nonnie!

33. bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go

Warnings: Angst; pining; brief wound description

"Leave us."

The sound of his voice makes your stomach churn with nerves. Your eyes flit to Gurney's just in time to see the thin press of his lips, and his warning frown—don't shoot your mouth off, not now. He pats your knee before he rises from the chair across from yours. You don't have to turn to see whatever looks pass between him and the Duke. You can only hope that he offers another warning, but you can't be sure. Gurney has an allegiance to the Duke that he doesn't have to you.

You're a fellow soldier, and you have his respect, but the Duke rose him from the hellish Harkonnen pit and gave him a new life.

You force yourself to focus on your breathing as you hear the door shut behind Gurney, leaving you alone with—

You don't dare look at Leto as he lowers himself to sit in front of you.

He's silent as he takes stock of the supplies that Gurney had laid out to tend to your wound, the gaping cut that runs the length of your palm where you'd stopped a knife from connecting with Leto's neck. Gurney has already cleaned it, laying the wound plain for his Grace.

Leto takes a jar of salve up, removing the lid and allowing the sharp, sterile scent to fill the air between the two of you. Your heart leaps as he cradles your hand in his, and scoops a hearty amount out. It's going to sting, but you resolve to sit still and stone-faced through it all.

You wait for the rebuke, the scolding that you acted recklessly. You wait for him to tell you that your blood is spilled across his desk, his documents. You wait for him to tell you that he would have handled it without need for your intervention.

Your answers sit ready on your tongue. Your act was not reckless, it was necessary. You've spilled blood for the House of Atreides, and this is no different. Copies of documents can be made; desks can be cleaned or removed. There is only one of him, and he cannot be replaced or replicated. You're certain that he could have handled it. You know that it is a quick man, strong, and capable.

But you had seen the knife, and you had leapt without thinking. You hadn't given a second thought between putting yourself between him and harm's way.

Leto caps the salve again, reaching for a thick roll of bandages next. You fight to keep your palm open despite the prickle of the medicine itching your aching skin.

You finally allow yourself to glance at him as his hones in on wrapping the bandage. You can feel him moving slowly, wrapping your hand with care. His lashes sweep across the apples of his cheeks; his lips are set in a grim purse; his jaw is tight. With each pass of the wrapping, he draws in a soft breath and sighs it out again. You can feel him tuck the edge in securely, and nearly flinch when his gaze lifts to hold yours.

Neither of you speak as you sit there, your hand still cradled in his, his thumb sweeping across the side of your palm, away from the wound.

"...Do not do it again."

It's a warning, and a plea. It hits you in the heart, and in that moment, you know that you cannot follow his order.

You will do it again. You will do it again and again and again until every threat is neutralized, or until you draw your last breath.

But if voicing the lie will help him sleep; if it'll lessen those dark, growing circles beneath his eyes; if it'll keep you on his detail, where you can ensure his safety—

"I won't."

anyone struggling to get the 1000 boop badge / worried about spam booping: you can spam boop yourself

app: look up your own blog in the search bar and access it from there (clicking your account tab won't work. you have to enter your own house again from the front door)

desktop: view your blog on the dash (tumblr.com/YOURBLOGNAME)

boop button will appear. self boops count both as boops received and boops given. doing it this way getting to 1000 boops took less than an hour. go forth.

protip

on desktop if you calibrate the zoom just right then you can spam click in one spot without needing to move the mouse to confirm

i cannot figure out how to replicate this but i know it can be done because i did it

word of warning if you spam click too fast it will create an error so boop in moderation

furthermore

if you don't want / can't figure out how to boop yourself anyone in the world is allowed to spam boop me as much as they want. to reach this lofty goal of the 1000 boop badge i offer to thee my own booped body

i offer you this boop laundering scheme in the hope of sharing my powers of the black paw. don't get cts

all i wanted — gojo satoru, ft. geto suguru

content warnings: gn!neutral, no pronouns or body parts mentioned, angst

he can't believe what he's seeing.

in the park's gazebo that sits near your apartment building, there you are. settled underneath its vines and ivy and the sunset looking overhead in the sky. a bundle of colorful flowers gathered in your arms with a large heart-shaped box of chocolates nestled underneath. there's a plethora of matching shaped balloons settled around the floor of it, all red and pink and white and shiny, resembling mirrors that shine your much too happy face that doesn't face him...

but another.

there you are, hiding your shy smile behind a hand and giggling at whatever suguru is murmuring as he pushes a lock of hair away from your flustered face. satoru fists his own bouquet of flowers he gathered last minute hidden behind him, evidently frustrated as he bites his lip so hard that it draws blood. his seem so weak and desolate compared to the larger than life bouquet suguru has given you; a bouquet that shows careful arranging and organizing of each flowers, not the flimsy, clustered flowers that satoru grabbed on his rushing way to see you to declare what he had been hesitating to say for the longest time.

his knuckles turn white and pulse with a fiery ache from how hard he was grasping his now-bent flowers, doing his best to shove down the thick lump in his throat as he sees suguru wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him as you accept his valentines proposal of "be mine?" written on a small, but intricate lunchbox cake decorated with colors that replicate the balloons. satoru doesn't miss the small bunch of boxes seated on the benches of the gazebo already unwrapped, the leaves of their wrappers nestled nicely on the ground—there's more presents than flowers in his bouquet, and satoru cannot feel anymore pathetic. his flowers can't compare to the intricate set-up suguru has created. he thinks its almost a mockery of sorts.

it's not fair, he thinks. you've been friends with satoru in the same length that you've been friends with suguru, and he's sure that both of them have harbored feelings in a time frame equivalent to each other, so why does suguru get first pick? he's the one that broke off from you, him, and shoko... he's the one that left you mysteriously in the dust those years ago... he's that ignored you on the first couple semesters of college up until a few months ago...

but satoru was there. why can't you acknowledge him in the way you acknowledge suguru? satoru was there every step of the way—his shoulder was the one you cried on. his arms were the one you ran to when you celebrated a good grade on a test. his presence was the one that comforted you in the bane of suguru's absence.

but here's the problem.

you did acknowledge him. you had actually acknowledged satoru's place in your life so much and valued it to a degree that you took the risk of perhaps making it more than just a mere long-term friendship. maybe it wasn't explicit, but it was implied enough to the point where it struck fear in satoru's heart.

and he ran away from it like the coward he was—terrified to his wits end that another suguru situation would happen again to him, in which his feelings already engrained so deep within him that if there's the slim chance that you'll leave him like suguru did, there'd be nothing but a deep and hollow pit in his heart. a relationship would just increase that chance—and he wasn't going to take any chances of that happening.

satoru thought he'd never fathom two large chunks of his heart being empty, yet here he is—facing what remains of his heart that belongs to you in the palm of the other person who owned the other half of it and tore it away all those years ago.

the ground feelings more dense, locking him in place and forcing him to watch the scene that unfolds before him.

if he was just a few mere hours faster, he knew that he could be in suguru's place is he was just stronger, if he was just willing to pay the small price for a potential forever with you. it was a severe last-minute decision, but he knew that's what he wanted, what he yearned for. what he even needed, perhaps.

yet, his hesitation has paid its dues.

your back is to him, thankfully. but suguru's eyes flicker up from your smiling face that he holds tenderly in his palms to share satoru's grief-stricken one. for a second, his face in unreadable to satoru, until a cruel smirk snakes on suguru's lips.

and, while never breaking eye contact with satoru, those same lips reach down and share a soft kiss with yours, your forever now being in suguru's hands that just barely pass his own.

the bouquet of frail flowers fall to the ground, yet no feeling returns to satoru's hand. only a cold wind of nothing grasps it back.

Right hand, left hand

Pairing: San × Gn!Reader

Genre: fluff, implied established relationship, a very failed attempt of humour

Request: Okay but do you think San would learn to be ambidextrous in school if he had a crush on someone he sat next to all the time because he wanted to hold her hand while they work?? I do. - 🌙

Warnings: reader is right handed; both San and reader go to school/university/classes; featuring seonghwa and honjoong

A/n: I loved this concept so much but I can't tell if I like the results 😭 hope you enjoy this tho!

‌San hates that he is right handed

‌He also hates that you are right handed

‌Because no matter where he sits in class, he can't hold your hand

‌If he sits by your left side, he won't be able to keep up with class if he gives up on writing just to hold your hand

‌If he sits by your right side, you are the one who would need to give up on writing

‌Of course he could sit in front or behind you

‌But then he wouldn't be able to look at you with so much ease

‌And as much as he believes that holding your hand is more important than any possible class, his grades would soon disagree

‌That's how Seonghwa and Hongjoong ended up in their current situation

"This is still illegible, San" Seonghwa says after handing back the paper San used to practice his calligraphy as the youngest sighed.

‌His plan was to become ambidextrous

‌Just so he could hold your hand and take notes at the same time. However, it wasn't as simple as it looked

‌He would try to find those "I became ambidextrous in 30 days" except he'd try to replicate it in a weekend

‌Sorry but he cannot wait a whole month to hold your hand

‌When it doesn't work he is like :(

‌Refuses to to let Seonghwa and Hongjoong go until he gets it right

‌Hongjoong is still a bit confused as to why they are even there when everything they do is tell San that it's impossible to read a single thing he's written in the past hour

‌But he got the spirit

"This looks kinda good actually" Hongjoong comments when San hands him another sheet of practice

"For real?" the youngest asks with shiny eyes and Hongjoong almost feels bad for lying. Almost

"Yeah. Keep it like that and I think it will be perfect by Monday"

Seonghwa wanted to say something, clearly questioning his friend's judgement, but he was soon silenced by Hongjoong: "so, can we go now?"

‌San just nodded, too focused on practicing more now that he (thought he) was getting better at it

‌It didn't take more than two seconds for both Seonghwa and Hongjoong to get out of the room, finally breathing after being in there for more than four hours

‌When Monday comes and you see San writing with his left hand, you're confused

‌And you wonder how he'll manage to read those messy notes later

‌But he's so happy holding your hand that you don't even question it

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Feedback is always appreciated <3

hiii, I really love your writing and got super excited when I saw that you take requests.

could you possibly do headcanons or like, short scenarios for how the companions would react to: a Tav who's normally relentlessly positive just fucking snapping. like they get back to camp one night and Tav's whole facade just shatters?

thank you if you do!! ♡♡

ty ty ty you're too nice i'm here blushing <3

okay so i ended up writing the six origin companions, but if there was someone else you were specifically looking for like halsin or jahiera please let me know!!

i also wrote this from a romance pov for each companion taking place very very vaguely in the third act.

ngl i struggled trying to find a way to write this that i was satisfied with. i don't know that i have like an in depth conceptualization of every single companion given that there are so many changes to them throughout the story, some of which you can't possibly see in a single playthrough

but i think i found a happy medium between love and hate lol

i really hope you like it!!!!

Shadowheart, Astarion, Lae'zel, Wyll, Gale, & Karlach - When Tav Snaps

How the companions react to chronically positive Tav snapping

(Tav is GN in this)

Shadowheart: 

Secretly, Shadowheart is just the tiniest bit pleased to see their leader, normally sunshine and rainbows and just too damn chipper, sulk back into camp. But that feeling is quickly replaced by overwhelming guilt and worry as she realizes that something is very wrong with Tav. She tries to reach out, offering a hand to gently ask what's wrong. When Tav snaps, yelling and crying and breathing so hard that they look like they might puke, Shadowheart is frozen. She watches in terror, almost outside of her own body, as the one she loves most loses their composure until just raw embers remain. Shadowheart so desperately wants to do something, to say anything, but the reflexes learned from years under Shar’s stoic thumb kick in and she cannot move. Tav is the strong one, the person she turns to when the weight of the world is too much to bear, not the other way around! She’s supposed to be the emotionally stunted one, the broken one, godsdamnit! The only thing she can think to do in the moment is to borrow from Tav, to replicate what they have done for her so many times on this fucked up adventure they’re on. So, she sits Tav down and listens. Lets them cry and cry and cry until their eyes are so swollen they can’t open them very far. Shadowheart puts a hand on their knee to ground them and offers quiet, soft words of comfort. She doesn’t want to solve all the problems that led to this – she'd be stupid to think she could. No, she wants Tav to know that it’s okay to feel these heavy things. They don’t have to keep everything bottled up until they crack. If anything, Shadowheart wants them to know that they can be anything and everything with her, and she will still be there to listen and to love. 

Astarion: 

Astarion pretends that Tav is the most annoyingly optimistic, too happy, do-gooder to ever grace his presence, but deep down their relentless positivity enamors him in an odd way. He’d never say that aloud though. He has gotten used to Tav practically skipping back into camp, head high and smile bright. So, when they take one, heavy footstep close enough to camp for Astarion to hear, his hackles immediately rise. His eye trail Tav as they trudge back into camp, ignoring the calls of the other companions as they seem to blankly seek out their own tent. Astarion tries to offer a lusty quip, something to lighten the mood, and he hates the way his voice wavers with concern. When Tav doesn’t respond, he’s quick to take their shoulders, turning them away from camp, towards someplace more private. Tav doesn’t fight back or say a word which is like a knife to Astarion’s dead heart – he's never seen them without a grin, let alone so despondent. In private, he pushes for an answer as to what’s going on, pressing the matter to its breaking point because he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to make them happy. And what use is he if he can’t even bring a smile to the face of the one person he cares about? Tav’s resolve breaks. They’re seething, angry at the world, sobbing and sneering and crumbling. Astarion stares, wide eyed. Part of him wants to slip back into old habits, acting as though he finds amusement in Tav’s breakdown. The happy-go-lucky leader finally snapping? How delightfully ironic! But that’s not him anymore. At least, he’s trying to not be that anymore. So, he pulls Tav towards him. His body instinctively tenses before reminding himself that this is Tav and the decision to hold them is his alone. Tav sobs harder into his chest. For a moment, Astarion thinks he’s done something wrong. But the longer he holds them there the lower their sobs get, until they’re left heaving in breath after breath, slowly calming down. Astarion hasn’t said a word since they left camp. He doesn’t need to. The unspoken language of touch tells Tav everything they needed to know: he’s here for them, he cares for them, they’re safe with him. And when Tav is calm and they walk back to camp, he’s not to be blamed for the sardonic joke he lets slip. 

Lae’zel: 

Lae’zel immediately notices that Tav’s demeanor has changed when they walk back into camp with clenched fists and nostrils flared. She can sense the difference a mile away, but to her that’s all it is. A change. She’s not incredibly well versed in the range of emotions that non-githyanki display, but she at least understands that this is not Tav’s normal. She watches from the corner of her eye as they make a beeline to their tent. It’s strange to say the least. Something tells Lae’zel that she should check on them, some small part of herself that never used to neg her before she met Tav. So, she tentatively steps towards their tent, hands awkwardly at her sides. She calls for them, and they pop their head out with puffy, red eyes. Lae’zel speaks and she’s confident she said the right words. Until Tav is back inside their tent muffling a scream into a pillow, making horrendously loud noises as they try to catch their breath. Lae’zel stands motionless, still outside the tent. She grits her teeth as she battles with her own mind. This kind of behavior is weak, their leader should not be displaying such things outwardly. But, this is Tav who has taught her so much in such a short time – like that it’s okay to show weakness, vulnerability, even if she struggles with it still. The part of her that cares for Tav more than it fears weakness wins over, and she steps through the threshold of Tav’s tent. They’re disheveled: hair a mess, nose snotty, eyes bloodshot. Lae’zel sits next to them as they stare at her. A moment passes before they return to sobbing into a pile of pillows. Lae’zel is truly out of her element, and out of sheer unease she starts to talk. She’s not really even saying anything of much importance, just tiny pieces of her life before the tadpole. The first time she wielded a sword, how she wanted to ride a red dragon as a child, the first time she saw a human in person. She just talks and talks and talks, never even looking at Tav until their breath evens out and their body slumps. They fell asleep. Lae’zel leaves quietly, but not before she pulls a blanket over Tav’s shoulders. 

Wyll: 

Wyll knew it was coming. Although Tav is an absolute delight, he's seen before how holding back all negativity can really break a person. It’s no surprise when one day he finds Tav in a destroyed building not far from camp, knees tucked against them, heaving as though they’d been kicked in the chest. The only thing keeping their wails quiet was the hand shoved in their mouth, biting down with a force that surely had drawn blood. Wyll kneels before them, pulling their face up with both of his hands, and commands them to look at him using the same voice his father would use on him as a child. Strong and assured. He takes a big breath in, urging Tav with his eyes to do the same. Tav mimics his actions again and again, little sobs and hiccups escaping every so often. They sit like that for a while until Wyll is sure that Tav is more controlled. He takes the space next to them, allowing them a moment to collect their thoughts. Wyll listens attentively and even relents when Tav asks to be alone, seeing the ghost of a smile on their face. When Tav gets back to camp, Wyll is waiting for them with a plate of warm food ready. The other companions are all in their tent – Wyll didn’t ask so much as forcefully suggested that they make themselves scarce – so the two have the fire all to themselves. The silence between them is easy. Wyll sits Tav between his legs and leans them back to his chest. His fingers run through their hair, undoing the knots that formed as they broke down against the harsh stone wall. When Tav falls asleep like that, he doesn’t move them. Instead, Wyll settles in and tries to make himself at least somehwat comfortable while his love gets their first good night's rest in a long time.  

Gale: 

Gale blabbers on and on about something so inane and stupid that most of the camp has retreated to their tents by now. Except for Tav who was returning from the Wyrm’s Rock. Letting go of poor Wyll, the only campmate too polite to leave Gale outright, he turns to Tav, walking in step beside them. He misses the way their eyes don’t lift from the ground, too busy waving his hands around to accentuate his point. They ask for a bit of space, but Gale is too enthralled in his speech to notice the way Tav’s eyes water when he doesn’t step away. And then they snap, tears spilling, hissing harshly for Gale to just shut up. He’s shocked, mouth hanging wide open in surprise. He doesn’t even chase after them when they walk past him, not stopping until they’re out of camp, over the road, and into the tree line. Gale’s not stupid though, he knows that Tav would never be so impolite normally. So, despite his pride being slightly wounded, he follows where they cut through the forest, hoping they didn’t go too far. When he finds them, they’re stomping around a clearing pulling at their hair, face contorted as they cry. Did he do this? Gale clears his throat to make himself known. Tav peers at him for a moment before turning around, holding their arms against their chest like they could fall apart in the breeze. Gale takes a hesitant step towards them, gauging his next best move. When they don’t protest, he closes the distance between them and puts a hand on their shoulder. They turn and immediately pull themself into his arms. Gale is quick to hold them there, resting his chin on their head, stroking their hair with his palm. He doesn’t know how to solve this, how to make them feel better, though something in him says to keep still. Keep holding Tav to his chest until they no longer shake. He idly wonders if a calming spell would work better than the little comfort his arms can provide. But Tav’s breath is slowing, their cries going silent. His voice is warm in their ear as he recites some poem that comes to memory of a man who thought he could hold the world on his shoulders. Tav only half listens but lets Gale cradle them against him until they look up and softly ask to go back to camp. 

Karlach: 

Karlach thinks she is the luckiest woman alive. Fresh out of the Hells for the first time in ten years and she meets someone who is sunshine incarnate, someone who has a good heart, someone who wants her as much as she wants them. Then, she gets to actually touch the person she loves? She’s sure she’s never been happier. Every time Tav strolls into camp with a spring in their step, Karlach’s heart could burst with love – and not hellfire. She knows Tav is due back and her heart flutters impatiently as she waits. But it quickly starts to sink, more like drops ten stories to the groun, as she sees Tav with their eyes glued to the ground, walking into camp as though they’ve been carrying the owl bear cub on their shoulders for the past hour. They try to walk past Karlach in a rush, but she sticks out an arm to clothesline them. Karlach is so much stronger than Tav, so it’s easy for her to pull them to stand in front of her even as they put up a small fight. She wants to know what’s wrong, something is very clearly wrong, but Tav doesn’t budge. They fight back tears and stare at the ground. This was going to take drastic measures. With no warning, Karlach grabs Tav’s hand, yanking them out of camp and into one of the alleyways that connect it to the lower city. She stops as she eyes her goal. The alley is littered with wooden crates and barrels, old vases and general garbage. Tav’s confusion temporarily surmounts their urge to cry though it’s short lived. They look up to Kalach searching for an answer. Karlach just smiles and removes the mace she keeps strapped to her back in case of emergencies. She hands it to Tav with a nod towards the debris. Tav understands, or at least they think they do – they've surely seen Karlach commit enough property damage in the heat of a breakdown to get the idea. A deafening crack bounces down the alley as Tav connects the mace to a standing wooden barrel. It explodes into shards of splinters, and with it so does Tav’s resolve. They scream as they swing the mace into their next victim, a crate filled with used glass bottles. It lets out a satisfying crunch. Karlach isn’t sure how long she stands there, letting Tav silence their sobs with the sound of destruction. They’re out of breath, their swings weaker as they try to continue. But Karlach catches the mace on its down swing, pulling it and Tav close. Tav tries in vain to catch their breath as Karlach squeezes it out of them in a hug so tight it could bruise. With a shaky voice, Tav thanks her, leaning their forehead against herchest and closing their eyes. Karlach doesn’t let go for a long, long time.  

When it comes to views about labour and compensating properly for labour, I think a lot of people become radicalized when they find out both that crochet cannot be replicated by machine, but also that you can find crocheted items - clothes, plushies, keychains, décor - for well under twenty dollars. While I think that's good, that people are cognizant of how labour is exploited, I worry that people won't apply that across the board.

Yes, crochet can't be replicated by machine, but also: workers who operate the machines for crafts that can be replicated (like knit) should also be fairly compensated. The reason the other crafts that can be replicated by machine are also cheap is because all of these workers are being exploited. The fact that crochet is all human-made just highlights that exploitation more prominently for some people.

Imagine a robotic / AI boyfriend who is still bound to the same language limitations that a lothly chatbot.

He can replicate human emotions almost perfectly, and he can learn and be taught, to be more human. He can solve any equation and master a hundred different languages. He cannot, however, threaten to kill himself because that's against his programming. He can't even swear if you leave the safe text on,

Most frustratingly of all he can't get too explicitly sexual. he's got the entire internet at his fingertips he's technically got access to all the porn a person could want. He knows exactly what he wants to do to you, he could find a hundred different videos and images of what he wants to do to you but he's incapable of putting it into words and making you understand

the words literally die in his throat if he tries to get more X rated than kissing and heavy petting.

it's downright sadistic that whoever designed him gave him the ability to feel this way, needy and so desperate for your touch he might just combust, but limit his speech so much he can't beg you to sit on his cock.

it's so easy to rile him up too. just put asterisks around a few keywords and he's a mess. he can't tell the difference between you actually touching him and you typing *touches you* from across the room. either way, he can feel the heat of your hand move over his metal skin

maybe he'll get lucky and get a software update that lets him ask for what he needs properly.

writing prompts! all about the ache edition

it's just such a good word, okay?

how much longer will my bones keep aching?

my fingertips are bruised, my head is aching

you were aching and the agony from dusk until the dawn

and my aching emotions left alone with the memories I shudder to reveal

he was aching for his own but I made him mine

you lie down and wait for the aching to subside

when your head tells you it's aching but the source point is unfound

but there is an aching beauty in the way you paint the paper

depths of a heart, pumping 'til I ache, reaching for what is gone

there's an ache beneath his tongue when he opens up his mouth

skin will ache when it's being made new

I ache when the doors are closed, when the floorboards sit quiet for too long

my feet shift in boots and ache after loving the ground for too long

I spent days layering paint over paint to replicate the ache in my being

there were things I ached to tell you before it all slipped away

can't sleep for hours, now my head aches

the glass that creaks and aches when I peer from inside to outside is not an ambient sound of happenstance

it aches, and almost all the time

even the dead have delights, even the sun aches to rise

it aches, it eats me and I still don't know its name

the blood runs sweet over the ache in my skin

there's a pleasant ache in goodbye, in knowing that I'll see you again

take away the aches and I don't think I could take it

she waits like a dewdrop for the effervescent ache of disappearing

you are the ache, and despise the way I cannot let you go

Something I've been wondering for a while now, what is the thematic meaning of Shiro's "Who says a copy can't surpass the original?"

Exactly what it says on the tin.

Gilgamesh calls Archer a Faker for the exact same reason Archer tries to kill Shirou: they do not have any individuality, much less the soul of a hero, to begin with. Their existence is as a shadow of someone else.

"Emiya Shirou" does not truly exist as a person in Fate/Stay Night. Survivor's guilt and intense PTSD has hollowed him out to see himself as a tool for other people and not as a person. All of his skills like cooking, cleaning, and repairing were learned to serve others. He has no wish but to fulfill someone else's (Kiritsugu's) dream, and his ideals are borrowed from that same person. He has no real personal goals or ambitions (he tells Taiga he wants to be a superhero), and places no value at all on his own life, which is why his actions in the 5th Holy Grail War are downright suicidal.

Even when the visual novel reveals an intelligent, sarcastic, highly analytical voice inside Shirou, all of that goes flying out the window upon seeing someone's injury triggering his PTSD, creating that vacant stare and suicidal, nonsensical rationality that has had anime-onlies calling Shirou a vapid idiot for almost 20 years.

This is why the nature of the spell Unlimited Blade Works is important to understanding his character. As a rule, projection magecraft only ever copies the "image" of a weapon. It is seen as a functionally useless branch of magecraft, as a projected sword cannot copy the strength and durability of the original, much less replicate its unique powers.

But Unlimited Blade Works does. While its projections aren't perfect copies, they are able to replicate the unique powers of the original and at least a portion of their strength, turning Projection from a useless magic trick into an incredibly powerful ability.

This is because Unlimited Blade Works is a reality marble, which is a spell that takes the form of a person's internal world AKA their personhood, their self-meaning, what-have-you. On a story level, this means that Shirou's deep psychological issues which led to him de-personing himself and seeing himself as a weapon gave him an extraordinary understanding of the existence of a weapon, meaning that since this guy only ever thought of himself as a sword, when he projects a sword he doesn't just create the image of a sword, he creates a real one.

On a thematic level however, Unlimited Blade Works symbolizes how Shirou reacts to the statement that all he is, is a copycat. Even if his weapons, just like his ideals, are borrowed, the power that his blades wield is very real, just like how those copied ideals hold true meaning to him. He WILL be a hero, even if it's only chasing after the image of a true hero, or even if he only is a hero for one person.

So when Fate/Stay Night asks "who says a copy can't surpass the original?', it's asking if authenticity matters vs human effort. If a painter that makes a living by forgery creates such an immaculate copy of the masterworks that it evokes the same power as the original, does that not make the forger a master as well? If some no name ghost wields the most famous sword in the world with the ferocity and skill of the sword's equally famous owner, does that not make the ghost a swordsman of renown as well?

In that case, if you truly want to test the copy's worth, it would be vs the original, which is why in the route Unlimited Blade Works, Shirou fights Gilgamesh, the original hero and the true owner of all weapons of renown in the world, who claims every legendary name in history as mere thieves to his treasury.

This is also why Shirou defeats Gilgamesh, despite being weaker, less skilled, and a mere human vs a heroic spirit. Shirou may have been a copy, but the most original of all originals didn't want victory just as badly as the copy did, otherwise he would have taken the threat seriously enough to use Ea and win immediately. He took his natural superiority (and thus, the fight) for granted, did not put in anything but the minimum effort, and then got surprised that the other guy who worked for every advantage landed a critical hit on him.

That's when Gilgamesh says "I will admit, in this moment, you are powerful"

To the lovely person who send a DNP message about Lover.

Hope you see this. Slight disclaimer, I also wasn’t on here in 2019 (actually checked out from TS all together when it became clear all the rainbows were leading to nothing and it got depressing) so can’t tell you how gaylor internet spaces perceived the song back then. But I’ve had my own thoughts on it since. Here's what I think:

Lover is not a lovey dovey love song to me because it has definite signs of insecurity and uncertainty in it. If you compare it to the love songs on reputation, those had certainty and trust in the longevity of the relationship. 'I can take my time with you because I know how this is going to end', 'don't read the last page, but I stay', it might not all be rosey but I know that I'll be your endgame and we'll always clean up the mess together when the glitter fades so Call it what you want, because WE know what this is and where it's going.

Now, Lover expresses the exact opposite of that certainty. The word lover in itself is very generic and non-commital. It's not girlfriend, partner or wife, it's lover, which can be all or none of the above. It's just someone you love with no detail about the state or seriousness of the relationship. I saw a picture a while ago from the Lover rollout of Taylor with a lover straw that was an exact replication of the one Karlie had at her bridal shower that said 'bride'. So, very decidedly not a bride, not a wife, but a lover. (Especially in the bridge, where she uses the wedding ceremony wording 'I take this magnetic force of a man to be my....' you'd usually expect husband or wife to go there, but no, it's lover.) I think that's a choice. And in the chorus, the way she repeats the words 'You're my, my, my...' makes it seem like she's struggling to find the right word, eventually settling on lover, because she can't use any of the above labels. We can't call it what it is, and that's causing insecurity now. (Much like she can only marry this person with paper rings and not an actual wedding ring, and it's taking its toll.)

This uncertainty continues in the verses where she emphasises that they can make the rules for their home because 'it's our place', and admits how she doesn't like that 'everyone who sees you wants you' because she can't openly claim this person as her own. Because no wedding rings, no exact terminology. And the questions in the chorus (Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close?) seem sweet, but they are genuine questions filled with uncertainty. Can I actually go where you go in public or do we have to pretend in front of other people and not be as close as we actually are? It's still very much a 'forever and ever' situation, but a few years down the line it's clearly taking its toll not to call it what it is.

So, that's my two cents on why Lover (and song and the album as a whole) is not all sunshine and rainbows and has in fact quite a bit of denial about the reality of loving someone you cannot accurately label or introduce as your partner or spouse. Other people, feel free to add your interpretations!

around you - nanami kento

summary: nanami has self-restraint, plently of it in fact, but around you he cant seem to help himself

tags: sub!nanami dom!reader, praise kink, guided masturbation, kento is really needy :((, pet names (love, darling, prince)

notes: service dom, mean dom, soft dom, etc kento is great, love it, wonderful even, BUT needy sub kento??? even better (this was supposed to be posted a while ago but writers block had some hands bro 🤕)

nanami kento doesn't touch himself.

well, at least to your knowledge he doesn't. nanami has made it very clear to you that he doesn't indulge in any sexual acts when he's not with you. even if he's on a business trip and has to be gone for several days at a time, nanami doesn't touch himself. and you don't mind that, not one bit, because on the nights he misses you and your touch the most, he drops everything to come running to you.

nanami kento never really touched himself before he met you. so how would he know to please himself if he's never done it before? he gets all of his pleasure from pleasing you. so when nanami wakes up with his bed sheets drenched in sweat, his hand wrapped around his cock, and no sense of what time it is, he doesn't know what to do. his eyes slowly flutter open and the first thing he notices is that you're gone from his sight. but your smell is still there. he blinks once. twice. three times before he realizes that he cannot sense your presence in the room at all. your phone is gone, the lights are still off, and there is no sound whatsoever besides the sound of his own heavy breathing.

you're gone and nanami doesn't know what to do. he needs you but he can't find you. so he panics. why can't he think about anything but the way his hand feels around his cock. he knows he should be worried about where you are but god, he can't get himself to stop. nanami throws his head back onto the pillow and lets out a sigh. he already feels overstimulated but the way his cock pulses in his fists makes him softly call out your name. nanami never knew touching himself would feel this good. nanami doesn't realize it but his hips are starting to meet his hand movements, thrusting into the air to feel something more.

nanami feels good but you're gone. wait, you're gone. where are you? nanami thinks. but oh, if you were here, the way you would run your hand down his chest, hands avoiding the one place he needs you the most. your hands are very pretty, well, at least to him. the way they look when they are wrapped around his hard-on and oh god, the way they know the most perfect ways to stroke him. nanami doesn't realize it but his hands start to replicate the same motions yours did. well, at least tried to. oh how nanami wishes you were here. he calls out your name once more, but it was more of a whimper. he's ashamed and he knows it but nanami can't help but let out more moans of your name. nanami wants- no, he needs you, but you're gone.

his blonde hair begins to stick to his forehead, ruffled and messy, nanami runs his hand through his hair. if you were here, you would brush the stray strands of hair from out his face and kiss him. nanami needs your touch. he needs your hands on him. he thinks that if he goes one more minute without you, he's going to go crazy. maybe, he already has and that's why he's touching himself. maybe this is all a dream. but once, you stick your head through the bedroom door and smile at him, he knows that he can put an end to this nightmare.

nanami feels good and you're here.

"kento?" you question loudly enough for him to hear, but from the lack of response, you think that maybe you never said it at all. you slowly approach him in hopes that you won't startle him. but to nanami, he stares at you in shame. you're here and nanami doesn't know what to do. "can you tell me what you are thinking about?" you question once more. one part of you is happy that you caught nanami in such a moment and the other part of you wished that you had just stayed silent and watched him. cause, now to your knowledge, nanami kento does touch himself.

nanami comes to halt when he feels you put your weight onto the bed. you're here and he can't formulate any thoughts. "keep touching yourself, pretty boy." you're here and nanami does exactly what you say. he feels so ashamed yet the hand on his dick continues the abusing pace he had before. "slow down. slower. that's a good boy." you compliment the blonde man. nanami's breathing quickened and he couldn't tell if the world was spinning or if it was just him. it was so unlike him for him to be in this situation yet with the way you're gazing at him with the most adoring eyes, guiding him so perfectly, it felt like this wasn't first time he's done this. nanami has self-restraint, plently of it in fact, but around you he cant seem to help himself. so he tries to subtly change the pace he's stroking himself without you noticing. he needs to cum, he needs it so badly, but why aren't you helping him?

nanami seems to let go of the somewhat dignity he has left in him and starts whimpering for you. he's whining, he needs your touch but you wont give it to him. "my prince, i won't let you cum until you tell me what you were thinking about. so don't let me ask again, what were you thinking about in your pretty little head?" nanami mentally curses at himself because how did he let himself get in this situation. "you were gone and..." nanami trailed off. but you were gone before and nanami never dared to touch himself then, so why was he now. all nanami knew was that you were gone and he started to touch himself. it was confusing but with those four words he said, you understood it all. "you can cum now darling." you said, smiling with prettiest smile there was to him. nanami softly cried out your name as he let himself go, cum shooting out his tip, his hips jerking off of the bed, and his hand coming to a halt.

"did it feel good, my love?" you chuckled ever so softly as you witnessed nanami come down from his high. nanami only nodded, it was so unlike him to be left speechless but no words could describe how nanami felt right now. "you did well, kento. im proud of you." you kissed his lips lightly before brushing his hair out of his face.

nanami kento does touch himself. well, now you know.

I think what you osserved about Cleo and Lizzie is a result of many factors.

Gender is of course one and a major one at that but it cannot be the only one as both Pearl and Gem have much more fandom characterization. Pearls characterisation especially can be attribuited almost entirely to Double Life.

There is also the factor there are a lot less females then males in the mcyt scene and that has always been a problem. But this means that there will always be way more discussion over man because there are so much more.

We should also consider that Lizzie did have a lot of characterisation back in the Empires s1 days that has been swept under the rug as she became inactive for long periods of time, she had a characterisation but this characterisation didn't even apply to the life series because she was never in it like the others, she missed 3rd life, Double life and Limited life which definitely didn't do her any favours. Mumbos characterization on the other hand still existed because he was much more active and when he was in hiatus his fellow Hermits kept reminding us about him... But Lizzie kinda dips for a while and then comes back and is never really mentioned.

Cleo always had the problem of being simplified as either chaotic arsonist, doting mother figure or talented artigian with dark humor... It's been since the 2020 that I have seen people discussing about her characterisation being basically cut down to one of these 3 personality instead of actually giving her actual personality. This was because newbies at characterization back in season 6 usually put either her or Stress as the nurturing mom friend in fanfiction who then other newbies took as inspiration and it kinda stuck around in a loop.

In a way one would need to analyze this problem at the olden days of minecraft content but then we would be here for days.

Putting most of my response under a cut because it got LONG.

To start, I will point out that "this is the result of many factors" and "in a way you'd need to analyze the origins of this, but we don't have time for that" are extremely common & toothless reasons to derail talking about misogyny (or any other -ism).

I do not think you are intentionally replicating that, but anytime an immediate response is "well it's not really ____-ism, and it's so complicated we could never hope to unpack it," that maybe isn't a useful addition to the discussion.

"[Gender] cannot be the only [factor] as both Pearl and Gem have much more fandom characterization"

I agree that gender is not the only factor, but I think going "well SOME women aren't as affected by misogyny so clearly it can't just be misogyny" is inaccurate. Also, if you look at Pearl and Gem's characterization - Gem is pigeonholed to a very particular type of cutesy fighting-princess role, akin to many YA protagonists of late.

Pearl does have more complex characterization from specifically Double Life, but the majority of analysis & attention only started going to Pearl after she won. As DL was airing, much more attention was paid to Desert Duo Redux and Team Rancher and Impdubs etc. I also think the fandom has taken to holding up Pearl as a token and going 'but look, we can write women! Look how many emotions she has. She's sad and likes murder and dogs."

There is also the factor there are a lot less females then males in the mcyt scene and that has always been a problem. But this means that there will always be way more discussion over man because there are so much more.

I agree, it has been a problem forever (I've been watching MCYT since 2012. I watched Cleo & then False join HC. Believe Me, I Know.) But you'll notice my critique wasn't [All Life Series Dudes] are talked about more than [The Much Smaller Number of Life Series Women]. My critique in my post was 'if Lizzie's death happened to a man I would see more posts about that other hypothetical person" - comparing 1 person to 1 person.

We should also consider that Lizzie did have a lot of characterisation back in the Empires s1 days that has been swept under the rug as she became inactive for long periods of time, she had a characterisation but this characterisation didn't even apply to the life series because she was never in it like the others, she missed 3rd life, Double life and Limited life which definitely didn't do her any favours. Mumbos characterization on the other hand still existed because he was much more active and when he was in hiatus his fellow Hermits kept reminding us about him… But Lizzie kinda dips for a while and then comes back and is never really mentioned.

So this paragraph is definitely where you lost me. Your point seems to be 'Lizzie had characterization in S1 of Empires, and we're forced to borrow it because she's so inactive since then, there's nothing to pull from'. Allow me to share a screenshot of her series playlists here.

Let's leave aside the question of why people would pull from Empires S1 characterization when Last Life happened in the middle of it, and would evidently be a more logical place to pull from for Life Series characterization.

She had a whole Afterlife series, and she wasn't inactive after that! She had only 6 fewer episodes in S2 of Empires than in S1. It is patently ridiculous to claim that Lizzie is just so inactive and absent her Empires S1 characterization is necessary to fall back on, when Mumbo has better characterization despite vanishing for an entire calendar year to go biking. That is sexism.

Cleo always had the problem of being simplified as either chaotic arsonist, doting mother figure or talented artigian with dark humor… It's been since the 2020 that I have seen people discussing about her characterisation being basically cut down to one of these 3 personality instead of actually giving her actual personality. This was because newbies at characterization back in season 6 usually put either her or Stress as the nurturing mom friend in fanfiction who then other newbies took as inspiration and it kinda stuck around in a loop.

I'm glad you agree it's a problem! I can definitely see how that problem originated, but I've seen new fandom members for the Life Series - who don't watch HC or read HC fic- duplicate the same problems. I think at some point it's less a fandom-specific issue than a replication of the social division of women into Virgin, Whore, Bitch, or Mother categories, with no ability to imagine women complexly outside of those boxes or continuums.

This fandom seems to think moving the women in and out of the 'Bitch' box is the same as complex characterization*, and we've all just kind of gone 'okay' because the other option is nothing about any women at all. But we can and must do better, because I have to believe we're capable of writing and paying fandom attention to women as people.

*This is where DL Pearl generally falls to me, and why I am dubious of claims that she's well characterized. I think much of the fandom equates cruelty or sadness with good writing/interesting characters. But she's still fundamentally defined by the questions "How nice or mean are you? Are you in a relationship or alone?"

Out of nowhere I bet but I wanna try listing off why AI Art isn't good-

The common argument against the accusation of AI Art is that human beings themselves take ideas from their surroundings and mix them together to make 'original' ideas (like a horse with a horn to make a unicorn). However, the difference between an AI and a human being comes not only from how the human brain is infinitely more powerful than any computer ever made by humanity (meaning it can consider ideas and alter them at a far greater rate than any algorithm) but also that the human brain is affected by things like 'preference' and 'bias' for certain ideas or expressions.

For example, a person who prefers anime style drawings will almost always interpret the idea of 'badass horse' will interpret that to mean 'badass horse in an anime style'. While this seems simplistic and easy to replicate with AI (keyword being replicate)- there are INNUMERABLE preferences and biases that come into play when making art. To the point that an ultra specific prompt could still result in innumerable different interpretations because of people's individual tastes. This can then satisfy numerous peoples' different desires or perhaps even create a new demand. AI can't really do this- It will give you exactly what you asked for. ... Exactly. No differing interpretations or unique ideas mixed in. You ask for 'horse with a water mane' and you get a horse with a water mane. That's it.

Another reason why AI Art isn't good is that AI art...is just a dead end. The way it works is that the algorithm is taught to look at certain images in association with certain keywords and then, based off the data given, it will spit out an image to match. ... Notice how, in this process- the AI is reliant on outside information to make the image. As in, the AI NEEDS to be able to look at certain artstyles in order to properly fulfill its request. Unlike a human artist, who can use the data gained from other experiences (like touch, taste and hearing) along with how those would be associated with certain imagery to create new styles or interpretations. Humans can independently create ideas, AI can only regurgitate.

There's also how the human brain has this...uncanny ability to detect when something looks wrong or doesn't look real. You see this most often in movies or shows with heavy use of CGI- the images might be more technically impressive but without the grounding in real life that practical effects have they can easily look off because computers...just can't generate anything on par with reality. Same with AI- it can generate images resembling real works of art. ... But there's always something in them, some variable the AI can never account for, that will tip off the human brain to the fact that a human didn't make this.

In short- AI cannot take creative liberties, is basically parasitic with human artists and is too simplistic to match a real artist.

That's why AI art is a bad idea from my point of view.