"Why are all companies seemingly going insane?"
Remember how under Dump the rich got 54% richer and got like 50 trillion more dollars directly from us, the bottoms?
They got fuck you money. They can push Hypernormalization further with ease.
Unity? Companies want that shit. That was a pandora's box that will not shut. They raised the temp really fucking high so you'd not notice how high it is when lowered just barely. I guarantee most of the industry supports this idea, in an obviously less purposefully blatantly scummy, but still scummy, format.
The Strikes? They got fuck you money, they can actually wait til people go homeless and starve to death.
Like...This is something I really want people to notice more often.
How many times have you had bullshit raised at you, just for it to be "compromised" into being a little less shit.
We all rallied against Horse Armor in Oblivion...until Diablo came by and started selling Horse Armor again. for like. 20$.
It's not about now. It's about setting up shit for the future. Just like Overkill did with Payday, they tested the waters, waited til Payday 3, just like I told ya'll a decade ago now, and here we are, always online DRM, Addiction experts for microtransaction gambling, etc, etc, etc.
Companies are using that wealth to force us into worse conditions.
I do not know what to do. Because you idiots keep falling for it. Every fucking time. Like my god the gaming industry lags behind by like 4 years compared to literally every industry, and worse yet, they did it more blatantly, far more anti-consumer, and far more childishly-copying, like there was no grace, they just told you. Like, the guy behind unity who wanted you to pay to reload your guns in-game.
You could've been paying attention a LONG fucking time ago. But ya didn't.
Ya still buy triple a, ya still defend companies, you still refuse piracy.
I just don't know what to do. We're being hypernormalized into accepting shit and people are bafflingly clapping for it because it's too late already.
The smell of shit has become standard, we're now arguing to the degree the smell should stay.
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I’ve been skimming through fluff fics lately, and a fun little realization popped up in my mind. It’s not often people talk about the downs in a potential relationship with the twst boys. For the sake of a more realistic perspective, I’ve got to ask. Who do you think is most likely to unintentionally hurt Yuu and why? - 🦐
Hello my shrimpy friend! So nice to hear from you, hope you're doing well. Fan fic in general isn't very focused on portraying the negative parts of a relationship because it's a form of escapism. People don't necessarily want to picture themselves in a bad spot in a relationship if they already are in one in real life, yk?
That being said making mistakes is part of any relationship so I do have some thoughts! They/them used for Yuu as always, this is angst so proceed with care.
Azul- he doesn't have the healthiest mental framework surrounding friendships, and you do need to be friends with your SO to have a solid relationship. An actual relationship with Yuu would probably have a bumpy start as you two try to feel out what the dynamic is actually supposed to be. Take it slow and everything will be fine, but there might be some hurt feelings along the way. And a lot of assumptions from other people about your relationship that don't help either of you.
LEONA- he's a rude ass bitch who doesn't have great manners I am so sorry to this man. To be fair though I think a lot of that rudeness would be something that would take place before the actual relationship, because I firmly believe if it's pointed out to Leona by his partner that he has communication issues he's more than willing to work on that with them. He would be a good boyfriend! It's just all the conversations up to the actual going out that's painful and might ruin what he wants before he actually gets it.
Riddle- so I don't think Riddle's treatment of Yuu is what might hurt them exactly, his issues as always have to do with his mother. He needs to figure out exactly how he wants to deal with his childhood trauma and his adult relationship with her, but that's going to take a lot of time and personal growth. Mrs. Rosehearts seems like the type to try and continue running her son's life after he graduates so I can't see her treating Riddle's partner well. Going no contact with an emotionally abusive parent is really hard for their children to do, Riddle needs love and support but the journey can be emotionally draining for the person giving that support.
Sebek- again with the family thing. His parents sound like wonderful people but his Grandfather seems to only like his grandchildren because they're half fae and still actively hates his son in law. I can't see him treating Yuu any better, which I could see being very draining since Sebek and his grandpa are very close. It could also be a chance for Baul to change a bit, which would be nice.
Cater and Idia- I'm making them share a spot because similarly to Leona I think the major hurts would be caused pre-relationship, but unlike him I don't see their communication issues as being something that would affect the relationship in the same way going forward. Cater has a lot of insecurities and can be a bit shallow, but he is a good friend so once he accepts Yuu as a safe space to speak openly and honestly I don't see them as having too many issues. Idia is also shown to be very open and honest with Ortho, his self hatred, temper, and inferiority/superiority complex just get in the way of him letting anyone else in.
In general, a lot of the twst guys have communication issues which is something people can work through, but would still cause some pain. Something to think about I suppose σ( ̄、 ̄=)
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a trigun stampede headcanon about humans, plants, and independents
Man made the Plants.
They slipped their wonder, their hubris, their science on them like a glove and reached through planes of existence to where raw elements danced together in elegant catastrophe and plucked them like an apple blossom from a tree.
The first one died before Man could even touch it.
The first one hundred died before they could even leave their dimension.
But that was the way of these elements, of these beings. They were born and died in a flash, a firework barely bloomed before its sparks were falling like dying petals. It was their way. It was their dance. What were concepts like years and moments to them, anyway? They were born to burn, to let their simultaneous life and death stretch out across time and space and fuel entire universes.
Man kept reaching. It is what they do best.
No human ever looked into this plane of celestial energy, no human ever could. It was concept, it was matter and energy, it was horror so beautiful and beauty so terrible that it would shatter a human mind. To look through eyes was to try to capture the infinite in the finite.
The first one died before Man could even see it.
The first one hundred died before they could even touch it.
They layered on science and ingenuity and determination. And they stopped trying to look through their eyes and started breaking the plane down into data, started viewing it through monitors and numbers.
The first Plant that they successfully bring over they can’t look at, they can only observe the lines of numbers running across the screen.
Sort of look like vines, someone said into the video that was recording this historical moment. Like a plant blooming across the screen. I’ve never seen data like this.
The first Plant that touches Earth dies less than a second later. The scientists still can’t look at it, couldn’t describe it if they could, but the world turns red as it dies.
It doesn’t die in an explosion. In fire and destruction. When the scientists blinked the red out of their eyes, it is said that the labs were covered in green vines and leaves and flowers.
The first Plant dies in life.
Man made Plants in their image.
They wouldn’t live in their natural forms—in the ones outside of time and physics and logic. In the ones that died as they were born, spinning their embers into new galaxies. So they were shaped into forms Man knew. Petals, like a flower, like the flowers that bloomed when the first one touched Earth. An homage, a tribute, a promise to do better.
And, inside the petals, they shaped the Plants with facsimiles of faces and eyes and mouths, with neck and shoulders and arms. They lovingly traced familiar curves, made them soft and feminine. These would be the new life-givers of the human race. They would save Earth. They would help Man explore and discover worlds and lifeforms and the unknowns beyond their own solar system. And so Man shaped them into soft and angelic things, into higher forms sent to aid mankind in its time of need.
The Plants lived for more than a moment, their pure, incomprehensible energy siphoned off slowly, carefully, until they could exist in a slow dance that could last decades. Centuries.
And there was life, and it was good.
Plants made Man.
It took a long time. Maybe. Probably. What is time to matter? What is time to gravity? What is time to time? The beings that came to be called Plants had no concepts or words for such things. They did not even have words, not like the humans.
They had dance. They had fire. They had birth and death and everything in between compressed into one single glorious moment and spread out across dimensions, across space and planes of existence. They had frenetic energy, enough to form worlds, enough to destroy existence.
Humans thought that their lives were short, and maybe so, in some sense. But Plants thought that the span of humans were pitiful, wet embers. No spark. No bloom.
No dance.
Their first memories as Plants, their first stories whispered among their kin, were of white nothingness, were of being stuffed from the span of galaxies into small spaces, the cramping of being formed into petals of soft curves.
It was not painful, the reshaping. The conceptualizing. The becoming describable for humans. It just was. Is. Will be. The Plants looked at each other, looked at themselves reflected in their glass homes, and thought themselves strange and alien.
The humans called them beautiful and they echoed yes, yes we are beautiful. Strange. New. Curious. We are not exploding, we are not stretching across and above and through with our deaths. We’re not dying at all.
We are not dancing.
But they could still hear their home, the place they were before they were plucked. They could resonate with their kin from far away, listen to them dance. They were too slow, too far away to dance with them.
But they could sing for them.
Gradually, the Plants came to see more than sterile white rooms and humans with reflective faces. They saw all kinds of humans—tiny ones. The tiny ones were their favorite—so small, so new, but loudloudloud. Screaming, laughing, throwing energy as wildly as the Plants used to when they were Before. The tiny ones lit up rooms, lit up the faces of the bigger humans.
They danced.
Other humans. Ones with the curves similar to the Plants’ new shapes. Others that looked like the scientists except with faces. The bigger humans were tiny sparks, hardly any energy left at all. The Plants sang for them, anticipating the dance, the life giving rush of their death.
But it never seemed to come. The bigger humans just kept on living, just kept on diminishing.
It was the way of things, the way of these beings other than themselves. Good or bad, the Plants didn’t know, because they didn’t know the meaning of such things. It just was.
They learned more, sometimes, with eyes peeking out between their petals when they weren’t busy singing to their firework brethren on the other side of the Great Gate.
(Eyes were funny things. A shape given to them by humans that they didn’t quite need.)
They learned that the Small Plants--the tiny humans with bright, bright energy—were the offspring. They learned about families and friends. They learned about the Engineers—the ones that took care of the Plants, that would relieve the pressure when it all got too much, when their elongated life and the drain on their energy made them feel heavy and wrong.
They learned about the shapes of humans. Their eyes and noses and mouths. Their laughter—the closest they got to dancing. Their care and kindness, the funny little creative ways they thought to sustain and feed the Plants—like with the alien, beautiful things that they called flowers.
They learned about things like fear and grief. But not by watching humans. It was born within them, made them different from their brethren beyond the Great Gate.
Their deaths were slow, now. Their deaths were separated out from their births, and it no longer felt like a dance. They would shove all of their remaining energy at the humans, and the humans used it. But it was a poor stretch, a wilting bloom compared to the reality-bending bursts of those on the other plane.
In watching the slow deaths of their kin, their sisters, all Plants came to dread it. But a long, long time of song would pass between each death. A song where they witnessed an infinite number of their kin dancing on the other side of the Great Gate, and the fear would be forgotten in the resonance.
Until the next one.
Man made Plants.
Plants, in turn, made Man.
As Man plucked their other selves, the them-before-they-become-Plants, from across planes of existence, so Plants plucked what they knew of humans to make their own creation.
It was an exchange. A dance.
It took a long time. It took no time at all. What Plants call consciousness weren't merged with the others. They were not a collective. But they had their songs. Sung and passed down and shared. Distance and time meant nothing with the song.
They came to understand the shape of humans—their hearts, which pumped blood. Their ribs, which protected the heart. Their muscles, which protected the ribs. The skin, which hid everything within them.
They learned that the water produced from their eyes was called sorrow. And sometimes it was called joy. They watched the scientists work, their favorite Engineers, and they learned about creativity and care. They peeked through their petals, and learned about blood and anger and hate.
They tried to prevent it, but their own fear and dread of a slow death was stitched into the song they wove into their new creation.
Then there was the shaping. Things like eyes and hair and noses and mouths. They made Man small, because the Small Plants were their favorites, the brightest spark among humans. They made the first one feminine, because they had come to learn that that’s what Man shaped the Plants after, and thought that that was Man’s favorite.
Love, as Man understood it, could not be understood by Plants.
But their First was born with the hope that She would dance.
And there was life.
But it must not have been good, or good as humans understood it, because they destroyed Her. Took apart her petals, caught her fire before it could bloom across the planes, before it could touch the Great Gate and beyond. Before it could join the song of their kin.
And more strange things were born within Plants, were sewn with whispered dissonance into their song.
Loss. Anger. Grief.
Fear.
Fear.
Fear.
These were woven even more thickly into the songs of the next creation. Because there were always going to be more.
Maybe the Plants gained more human characteristics than they thought. Curiosity. Determination.
Hope.
Hubris.
And so, they created two more Plants in the image of Man. Still tiny-shaped, because the Plants favored the human offspring the most. But these would grow into sharper angles and the heavier muscle that were both more predominant in their samplings of scientists and engineers.
Maybe Man would love these shapes more than the promised softness of the First.
And so two were born in the shape of Men. Born to live instead of born to die. Born to burn and bloom and diminish a slow death. The Plants hoped that they would learn the song of their kin, that they would touch the Great Gate. That maybe they could even dance just once with the others, with the beings-before-Plants. That they would dance with each other, and with the humans.
And there was life.
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