learning how much Debt medium rich people are in is so scary to me. like. I'm about 1k in credit card debt (which is very low compared to my total credit limits I know how to keep a good ratio going for a good credit score) and then like 20k in student loan debt and that's terrifying to me. but 99% of medium rich people you see are like. hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt and that's just How they pay for their lifestyle. they get insanely high credit limits and just pay for entire cruises and vacations and bullshit on their credit cards. I cannot fathom this. if I were 300k in credit card debt I'd be having heart palpatations daily. but it's good to keep this in mind when going "how tf do people my age afford things?!" bc typically the answer is: credit cards and loans. they aren't affording things at all.
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did you know: rolling NdM has M^N possible results, which for relatively small N and M is a pretty manageable number and you could have code just looking at every result rather than monte-carloing it, giving you exact answers rather than just very good approximations if you wanted to figure out how common dice results with some particular property are.
did you also know: if you're doing things wrong, you can also do this with a spreadsheet.
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ummm so new update this is NOT my academic weapon year
HOW THE FUCK DO I HAVE A 40 IN SCIENCE 😧
I'M DONEEEEE 😞🤚LIFE IS OVERRRR 😭
ME RN AFTER TELLING PEOPLE THAT IS MY ACADEMIC WEAPON YEAR WHEN I HAVE A 40 IN SCIENCE:
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△ how do you think you will die? (directed at the oc you feel like answering this for!)
Sorry for the delay!! As sometimes happens with things given an option I uhhhh. Wrote four versions of this after getting home from work last night. I'll give you the one with the highest final distress rating!
[prompt]
“How will I die?” Kasander cocks their head, chewing at their lip. Idly, their hands play with the hem of their tabard in their lap. “I mean, I don’t really know! There are a lot of ways to die, and I’ve already gone through a few of them! Like, you’re asking for the last one, right? One I won’t come back from? Ah, I guess it’s kinda hard to picture… Once you’ve bled out a few times it kinda kills the imagination!”
A light laugh, which dies off as they notice that you aren’t laughing. Their picking at the embroidered hem intensifies. The frayed gold threads have already been worried well past their limit, but somehow Kasander finds ways to split them further. The tailor of the heroic garment would surely weep to see its mistreatment.
“I guess like… what are you asking? When I’m gonna be alone? When no one’s gonna want to bring me back? When Shadowheart’s gonna die?” The feverish final note is cut short as the fabric in their lap is twisted so sharply that they jump, staring at their own hands in confusion. They relax slowly, but even when they turn back to you the way they still watch themself, untrusting, is plain to see.
“Um… I guess, like, since that’s the question, I guess maybe I could… get sick? Or maybe one of these cultists is gonna get us, some time. I don’t know. There are a lot of ways, right? I don’t think I’ve got any good ideas.” They sigh loudly, flopping back onto the ground with arms spread wide. The tabard hem is released once more from its torment.
“I’m not any good at this,” they groan, muffled now by the angle. “I don’t have any idea, sorry.”
They lay there, stewing, and the awkward pause drags on long enough that you’re painfully aware of the papery rustle of leaves and thin buzz of late afternoon insects. Somewhere in the distance an argument is happening over the campfire, the words floating across your senses as the quiet between you and Kasander drags on. Finally, they shift on the ground, sighing again: quiet, without theatrics.
“Does it really matter anyway?” Their voice is so soft the words are only half-distinct. “I mean, you wouldn’t know. But none of it sticks. Maybe you’re stuck with me forever.
“Maybe some people don’t get to leave.”
[9/10, deeply uncomfortable. They’ve already been denied death on their own terms.]
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