#Ail-Tech

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Thinking the unthinkable

On SEPTEMBER 24th, I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Time and again, I find myself thinking about radium suppositories: specifically, I get to thinking about the day that the consensus shifted from "radium suppositories are great" to "stop putting radioisotopes up your ass."

The thing is, people really liked radium-based quack remedies. They drank radium-infused water, smeared radium cream on their faces and bodies, and yes, rammed radium suppositories up their assholes:

https://maximumfun.org/episodes/sawbones/radium-girls/

The fact that this made whatever ailed you sicker didn't deter the radium true believers: if you're getting sicker, then you must need more radium.

When I think about the debate over radium, I imagine that the people who understood that radium was really bad for you must have run up against critics who told them they were being unreasonable. "You can't tell people to stop using radium. Tell them to use suppositories with less radium. Tell them to use them less frequently. But you can't just tell people, 'stop putting radium up your asshole.' They won't take you seriously."

About 20 years ago, I started pitching various institutions that reviewed consumer tech policy on the idea that they should reject any product that had DRM. After all, DRM didn't just restrict how you used a gadget today, it provided a facility for nonconsensually, irreversibly field-updating that gadget to add new restrictions tomorrow. How could a reviewer in good conscience say, "Go ahead and buy this device if you need this feature," if they knew that at any time in the future, the gadget's maker could take that feature away and leave the buyer with no recourse?

Here's the warning I (half-seriously) suggested magazines run alongside such products:

WARNING: THIS DEVICE’S FEATURES ARE SUBJECT TO REVOCATION WITHOUT NOTICE, ACCORDING TO TERMS SET OUT IN SECRET NEGOTIATIONS. YOUR INVESTMENT IS CONTINGENT ON THE GOODWILL OF THE WORLD’S MOST PARANOID, TECHNOPHOBIC ENTERTAINMENT EXECS. THIS DEVICE AND DEVICES LIKE IT ARE TYPICALLY USED TO CHARGE YOU FOR THINGS YOU USED TO GET FOR FREE — BE SURE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF BUYING ALL YOUR MEDIA OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AT NO TIME IN HISTORY HAS ANY ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY GOTTEN A SWEET DEAL LIKE THIS FROM THE ELECTRONICS PEOPLE, BUT THIS TIME THEY��RE GETTING A TOTAL WALK. HERE, PUT THIS IN YOUR MOUTH, IT’LL MUFFLE YOUR WHIMPERS.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/08/playstationed/#tyler-james-hill

No one took me up on my offer. Over and over again, magazine editors, managers of nonprofit review outlets, and indie gadget reviewers told me that it was unrealistic to publish a roundup of, say, this year's portable music players with the recommendation, "Just don't buy any of these. None of them are fit for purpose."

In other words: No one wanted to publish, "The correct amount of radium to stuff up your asshole is zero."

But the correct amount of rectal radium for you to administer is "none" and the correct car for you to buy today is none of the cars:

https://foundation.mozilla.org/en/privacynotincluded/articles/its-official-cars-are-the-worst-product-category-we-have-ever-reviewed-for-privacy/

This isn't the first time the correct automotive recommendation was "don't buy any of these cars." Back before seatbelts came standard in cars, the correct car was "don't buy a car." Sometimes, the correct answer is "none of the above." Even if that makes you sound unserious, the alternative is that you counsel people to put radium up their asses in a bid to seem "reasonable."

Today, DRM-infected products are routinely downgraded and bricked:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/9/5/24236237/ftc-software-tethering-letter-consumer-reports-ifixit

Even when companies face public uproar over these disastrous decisions and vow to reverse them, they can't, because these downgrades are one way:

https://www.stereocheck.com/news/music/unfortunately-you-cant-revert-to-the-old-sonos-app-anymore/

That's bad enough when it's your smart speakers, but what about when the company bricks your wheelchair:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/06/when-drm-comes-your-wheelchair

Or your $100,000 exoskeleton:

https://paulickreport.com/news/people/paralyzed-jockey-michael-straight-wants-to-keep-walking-but-manufacturer-wont-repair-exoskeleton

The reality is that we're living at the end of a catastrophic experiment in deregulation and its handmaidens, corruption and regulatory capture, and there are lots of "normal" things that we just need to stop doing. Not do less of them – just stop.

Like, the correct amount of collusion between realtors representing sellers and realtors representing buyers is zero:

https://www.latimes.com/business/real-estate/story/2024-03-19/realtor-rules-just-changed-dramatically-heres-what-buyers-and-sellers-can-expect

We got that one right, but there's plenty more that we're still engaged in this pathetic, denialist bargaining over. What's the correct degree to which White House officials should cycle back into working at the industries they oversaw? Zero. How many times should such a person come back to work at the White House? Again: zero:

https://prospect.org/power/2024-09-19-next-administration-can-stop-ethics-scandals/

When the Biden admin dropped its executive order on ethics just hours after the inauguration, they trumpeted that it "went further than any other towards slowing the revolving door and limiting conflicts of interest while in office":

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2021/01/20/executive-order-ethics-commitments-by-executive-branch-personnel/

And it did. But it was also full of loopholes, because banning these conflicts of interest altogether was viewed as politically unserious, so the correct amount of radium up the administration's asshole was set at non-zero. The result? Well, it's about what you'd expect:

https://therevolvingdoorproject.org/what-the-hell-is-anita-dunn-even-allowed-to-work-on/

Congress hasn't updated consumer privacy law since 1988, when it took the bold step of…banning video-store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you took home. Since then, a coalition of commercial surveillance companies and the cops and spies who treat their data-lakes as massive, off-the-books anaerobic lagoons of warrantless surveillance data has prevented the passage of any new privacy protections for Americans.

The result? Stalkers, creeps, spies (both governmental and corporate), identity thieves, spearphishers and other villainous scum are running wild, endangering every American's financial, physical and political wellbeing. The correct amount of commercial data-brokerage for America is zero:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

In other words, we should order every data-broker, every tech giant, every consumer electronics company and app vendor to delete all their surveillance data. All of it. The correct amount of radium in that asshole is – as with every other orifice zero:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/07/revealed-preferences/#extinguish-v-improve

From the perspective of the radium pitchmen, the most shocking thing about the past four years has been antitrust enforcers – like Lina Khan, Rohit Chopra, and Jonathan Kanter – who refused to bargain about how much radium we needed to stick up our butts. Fearless of being branded as "unserious" and "unreasonable," they seriously, reasonably said the right amount is none, actually.

None. Which is why they're so mad at Khan and co. Which is why they're so bent on getting Kamala Harris to fire Khan �� despite the fact that this would burn precious political capital in the senate. Some people just love the feeling they get from a radium suppository – especially the suppository salesmen:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-09-19-lina-khan-doesnt-need-to-be-confirmed-again/

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/19/just-stop-putting-that-up-your-ass/#harm-reduction/a>

Image: Museum of the Health Sciences https://www.uab.edu/amhs/

[yunuen]

the line is covered in jellyfish (NEW CHAPTER) ship: jayce/viktor summary: Jayce and Viktor survive the Arcane, a blizzard, and the silence between them. Slowly, they put themselves back together—piece by stubborn piece. word count: 17k (2/3) teaser: “I don’t know,” Viktor murmurs when Jayce hesitantly asks what the fusion of flesh, tech and magic that makes up his ailing body is. He keeps his gaze downcast, slender, synthetic fingers tightening around his staff. “There’s still no word for what I am.” Jayce says nothing, but beautiful is the word that comes to mind. That has always come to mind. Read it now

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do - Part 9

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts. wc: 2920

Jason hated Danny, a little. The other had really (accidentally) downplayed the effect the ectoshot would have. Flu like symptoms his ass, Jason felt like his insides were trying to crawl their way to the outside. Danny had apologized profusely and frequently, and Jason had forgiven him. Still, he hated Danny a little for doing this to him. Danny earned a lot of points back, though, by acting as Jason’s personal ice pack through the worst of the fever. Jason spent a lot of hours with his head or chest pressed against Danny’s cold back as he lay, miserable, on the couch with Danny sat on the floor in front of it. It was even nicer when Danny would absently run cold fingers through Jason’s hair and scratch lightly at his scalp. Jason tried not to think about how good that felt. How easy it was to let Danny touch him. He was determined to just blame the fever and ignore how his very bones seemed to hum in pleasure at the contact. Or maybe it was Danny humming. Purring? Fuck this fever, seriously.

So Jason sat close to Danny and Danny spent most of the time doing homework on a laptop that looked one step from death. “Summer classes,” he explained when Jason asked. “I’m trying to get all my gen eds done so that I can double major. Maybe even triple? I don’t know if I want to have spend the time on the language classes a Math major needs.” Jason hummed in response, trying to tuck the information away in his sick ailed brain. He couldn’t decided if he hoped Danny and Tim never met (con, they were both too damn smart), or if he desperately wanted them to meet (pro, Tim would replace all of Danny’s failing tech in a pique of disgust). Maybe the scholarship already came with a new laptop? That sounded like it would be a Tim thing to do, but Jason wasn’t sure how involved Tim was in the scholarships. “Math sucks,” he settled on. | “Sure it does, book boy. I bet you were an English major.” Danny had found Jason’s pile of books early on the second day  and made fun of him. But Danny had also found both ‘Pride and Prejudice’ movies to download and had put them on for Jason to watch. They had spend all day trying to make it through the Colin Firth one as Danny kept pausing it whenever Jason dozed off due to the fever. “Nah. Never even finished high school. Too busy being dead,” Jason mumbled and tried to press closer to the cold. Danny must have done something because the chill increased. Jason let out a content sigh. He was almost asleep when Danny spoke. “You’re not just dead any more. You can still have a life.” “Don’t know if I deserve one.” “Of course you do,” Danny said. Danny didn’t know what Jason had done, the Pit groaned in response. Jason let himself slip asleep rather than deal with either of them.

-

The next time Jason drifted towards consciousness, there was a hand on his forehead. It wasn’t right though. It was familiar, but it wasn’t right. “Too warm.” “You sure are Jaybird. You’re burning up.” Jason jolted up and almost fell right back over as the world swam around him. When it solidified, it settled into a very different pair of worried blue eyes than he was expecting. “Big bird?” But if Dick was here, where was Danny? There was no sign of the other now; no laptop or textbooks or scribbled equations. Too many takeout boxes stacked too messily were the only clue, but Jason figured that could be excused by his sick state. Jason knew that Danny hadn’t been with him the whole time he’d been sick. The other clearly came and went at least a few times to pick up food, his school work, and other supplies. What Jason didn’t know if the timing was just lucky or if Danny had managed to disappear before Dick had made it past all the safeguards. He hoped Danny wasn’t stuck hiding in a closet or something. “What?” Jason asked. Dick had been saying something to him, but Jason hasn’t caught a word of it. He rubbed at his eyes to try and focus. “Did you get dosed?” “Does? No. Just the stupid flu or something,” Jason lied. “Why are you here?” “Because you didn’t show up for patrol for a few days in a row, little bird,” Dick said softly. He brushed Jason’s sweat soaked hair off his forehead. Jason swayed into the touch. Not even two days of finally being touched apparently was all it took to lose his self control. At least Dick wasn’t shying away from him right then. Not like he normally did. Right, his brother had said something. “That made you break into my place? You know that was fucking stupid. What if I’d been…” Jason trailed off and motioned to his eyes. What if he’d been in a Pit rage. “You don’t drop off from everything like this when you are. We were worried,” Dick said. He sounded worried, but Jason didn’t feel like he could figure out if it was real right then, not with his head so full of cotton. Maybe it was. This was Dick, he seemed to care. Of course, then Dick had to go and add, “You should have checked in.” Jason snorted at that. “Not for patrol reasons,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. “So that we didn’t worry, little bird. And so that I could have brought some soup from Alfred.” “Mmm… yeah, would have been worth it for the soup,” Jason decided after a moment. “Most things are worth Alfred’s soup,” Dick agreed with a chuckle. “But no, you had to be stubborn and not let us know you were sick so there’s no soup for you.” “Shut up,” Jason grumbled with no real heat. He tried to let himself fall back onto the couch but was stopped by Dick pulling him forward. “Nu-uh. We’re going to get you up and into the shower. You’ll feel better in clean clothes and I can change the blankets on the couch and get these through the wash.” “No.” “Yes,” Dick said in a sing-song voice that made Jason want to punch him. Instead he let Dick help him off the couch. Now that it had been mentioned, a shower really did sound good. He was left propped up against the door frame of the bathroom while Dick got the shower started. The sound of the water was almost soothing, and Jason eyes drifted closed. Normally the Pit would be snarling at him to stay alert— to stay focused and on guard— even (especially) in the presence of his family, but it seemed as drained by the ectoshot as he was and stayed quiet. “Jay?” “Hum?” “Do I need to get you to a hospital?” Jason pried his eyes open to glare at his brother. When had Dick gotten so close? He hovered just in front of Jason like if he wanted to reach out and pull Jason close. Shit, Dick really was worried, wasn’t he? “It’s just the stupid flu or something.” “I don’t know, you’re really out of it, Jay. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you with your guard like this.” “’S fine,” Jason said and let his eyes close again. “You’re here. I’m safe.” “Okay little bird,” Dick said softly and started to help Jason out of his sweat soaked shirt. “Let me take care of you.”

-

Dick helped peel off Jason’s shirt and tossed it on the floor. This wasn’t his first time undressing and shoving one of his family members into the shower. Being a vigilante left no room for modesty between the mortal wounds, medical procedures, and decontamination processes. It was easy to be clinical about it at this point. Besides, his mind was too busy reeling over Jason’s words. Jason felt safe with him. Jason, who even when he was sitting right next to them, still held them at arm’s length. Who Dick wasn’t sure would even show up at the few family meals he did attended if it weren’t for Alfred’s cooking. Who struggled to share any details about a case. Who didn’t ask for help when he was this sick… … felt safe with him. Dick had to bite his lip to keep the tears from welling up. He hadn’t thought Jason would ever trust him again, not really. He hadn’t been sure if he’d ever really have his brother back. He didn’t even need— want— Jason back in a creepy ‘just like he was before’ sort of way. Dick knew that was impossible. Jason dying had changed them all. Him coming back had changed them again. Jason had talked to Dick about it once, just a little. They had both been drunk— Jason more than Dick— and Jason had talked. He had talked like the words were spilling out of him, bleeding out of him; a soft steady flow of horror. There in the dim light of Dick’s apartment Jason had talked, just a little, about what it was like to live with the Pit rage in him. How it was like a rabid dog on a leash that was barking, barking barking. Dick didn’t know how someone even thought over that noise, but he was so damn proud of Jason for managing. He was so damn proud of Jason for clawing his way back to life— out of his grave and out of his madness and out of his rage. He didn’t want the old Jason back. He just wanted a chance to get to be a brother to this Jason. He was so damn proud of the man he’d become. His eyes ran over the horrible autopsy scars that crossed Jason’s chest. The stark reminder of exactly why Dick hadn’t been sure they’d ever really have Jason back. Jason, when he had to change around them, always did it as quickly as possible. But right then the scars were on full display. Because Jason was trusting Dick to see them. Dick tried hard not to think too much about it. Jason needed his help right then. He could deal with the mental fallout later. With some wrangling, Dick got Jason into the shower. After getting fresh clothing, he took a seat on the closed toilet, flicking through his phone from somewhere to order food from. He wanted to be close by in case Jason lost his balance in the shower. “Is Ben’s good for pizza?” “What?” At least Jason was sounding a little more clear headed. “Ben’s. I’m ordering food.” “Yeah. Get a supreme. The chicken bbq one is good too.” “Got it.” Dick selected the pizzas, added maybe too much garlic bread to the order, and submitted it. Then he pulled up the family chat. The one that Jason still refused to be part of. Dick: So Jason’s running a pretty bad fever. He thinks it’s the flu. Oracle: He’s actually staying home and not patrolling when he’s sick? Tim: Shit. It’s that bad? Dick: He’s pretty out of it. Shower seems to be helping and I’m ordering food. I’m going to stay the night here unless you need me on patrol. Bruce: We’ll rearrange patrols. Keep an eye on him. Dick: Will do. He wasn’t going to let Jason down again.

-

When Jason woke on day four, he felt good. He wasn’t perfect, he knew that. Danny had said it would take at least a few infusions— maybe several if his core took to it badly. He might never be without lingering effects. But even with just the one shot of ectoplasm Jason felt better than he had in years. Jason let himself linger in bed for a bit, slowly stretching out his sore muscles, before sounds from his kitchen made him stir. The press of otherness was back, so Jason assume that Danny was back. His arrival still made Jason shudder with a chill of cold. It wasn’t as overwhelming as it used to be, but there was never any doubt when Danny was around. Yesterday Dick had hardly left his He’d convinced Dick that he would be fine for the day and that he should go to work. Dick had still insisted on waking Jason up in the morning before he headed out, but Jason had rolled over and went back to sleep. And now Danny was back. The sound of something clattering, followed by cursing, had Jason finally rolling out of bed and heading to the kitchen. He half debated at least pulling on a shirt over his sleep pants, but the cursing had turned rather fevered. Besides, he didn’t think that Danny would be bothered by his scarring. He had to stop in the doorway to the kitchen and just stare. Smoke hung in the air. Danny was right in the middle of it— holding an ice covered frying pan out at arms length. Jason was pretty sure the tips of Danny’s bangs were singed. Jason was smirking. He knew he was. He really couldn’t help it. “I can see why you always bought food these last few days.” Danny whirled to face him, blue eyes wide. He made a cut off little noise and flushed bright red. Chuckling, Jason stepped into to the space— the kitchen was hardly big enough for two people— and reached around Danny to turn the burner off. Danny’s arm was cold as he brushed against it. When Jason pulled back and Danny was still just staring at him and had grown redder. “You good there, fish?” “Um, what? Oh!” Danny finally blinked. The blush went right to the tips of his ears. “Right, yeah? But, um, I don’t think that the eggs are okay.” “Don’t know if my frying pan is either,” Jason said, eying the frozen hunk of metal. “Sorry,” Danny said with a wince and dumped it in the sink. He waved his hand and let the ice melt. Scorched eggs washed down the sink. “How did you burn them so badly?" Jason asked. He was actually a little impressed. “I never learned to cook, okay? We didn’t really cook at my house so I’m having to pick up all of it now,” Danny said with a little shrug. “It’s, ah, not going so well.” “Neither of your parents chefs?” “Too much ambient ectoplasm,” Danny said as he tried to scrub at the charred pan. Jason didn’t think it would do any good. “When the casserole tries to eat you back one too many times you sort of give up on eating at home.” “What.” “Reanimated food. They’re always bastards. I have scars from the hot dogs still,” Danny said and also gave up on the pan and turned around to lean against the counter. “…I have so many questions and I don’t know if I want answers.” Danny shrugged again. He picked at the ends of the hoodie he was wearing, unraveling the ragged edge further. “You probably don’t. So, um, I was in the right to leave the other night, right?” “Yeah. It was my brother checking up on me. I don’t think I’m ready to explain all of this,” Jason said, giving a little wave of his hand to indicated everything as he leaned against the counter next to Danny. Danny glanced at him, his eyes flickering over the chest scars and back up. “They do know you died, right?” “Sorta hard to miss,” Jason said, crossing his arms. “But they think the Pits brought me back. We all did. Not that…” “It’s different, knowing you’re still dead,” Danny filled in where Jason trailed off. “Yeah. I’ll tell them later, maybe, but I want things to settle more. Shit, wait, am I going to get powers like you have? Then I’ll have to, I guess. It would hard to hide magical ice.” “Oh, you probably wont get ice. There are lots of difference cores. There’s all the elemental ones, fire and electricity and things, but also like, technology and shadow and a the Ancients can have really unique ones like time and hope. We won’t know what yours is until we get rid of the corrupted goop and you have enough ectoplasm.” “Huh,” Jason said with a frown. “So more ectoshots?” “More ectoshots. But we’ll give you a few weeks in between so you can recover. I’ve got to get myself moved to Gotham anyways, and I don’t really think you should take any of it if I’m not around, just in case your powers do develop.” “Yeah, alright,” Jason said, brain already working on how to hide all of this from the Bats. He was just starting to get things back to better with them. He didn’t want to throw ‘hey, turns out I’m still a little dead’ into the mix. He didn’t want to see the looks on their faces at that news. He didn’t want to break anyone’s heart again. He didn’t want to lose them again. Jason cleared his throat. “Well, guess I better give you my number then. Not that I don’t know when you’re around, but would be shit of you to have to come all this way just to check on me. How do you keep  getting back and forth, anyways?” “Oh, sometimes I use a portal but mostly I just fly.” “You what?”

-----

AN: So this chapter was originally a single scene, but it decided it really needed more time. Then Dick decided to show up. I’ve gone back and forth about showing a POV other than Jason or Danny, but Jason is such an unreliable narrator about himself and Danny doesn’t know how Jason used to be, and I wanted to be able to show that. So Dick will show up a few times! He’s mostly here to have feelings.

And yes, Danny was totally bluescrened by shirtless Jason there at the end! I debated the POV for that, but thought it was funner that Jason has no clue why Danny is blushing like a tomato.

This is rough in places, I know, but my focus has been shot by pain. Besides, cleaning it up is what rewrites are for! Speaking of, rewrite of chapter 3 will be up on ao3 Thursday! Thank you all always for your wonderful response to this and stay delightful, darlings!

Tag Cult, as it has lovinly(?) been called: @fisticuffsatapplebees | @thegatorsgoose | @wolfeyedwitch | @lazy-bouqet | @confusedandghostly | @glomsk | @kailithiel | @bahfev | @d4ydr34min9 | @claudiashq | @someonebored0100 | @pastalavistamf | @samgirl98 | @angelheartgamer | @lehana37 | @spiteismymiddlename | @rosecinnamonbun | @demon-cat-goes-woof | @violet-catsarelife | @trickerdi | @avelnfear | @undead-essence | @basilf1res | @amillionandonefandoms | @stealingyourbones | @sarcastic-yami | @bun-fish | @aconitewolfsbane | @dontfightmecauseillcry | @omgnectarina | @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff | @the-blind-one-speaks | @mimilikey | @wolfe-marvin | @learning-to-fly-on-my-own | @multplelifes | @yurijay | @trickerdi | @bae-graphomaniac | @jeffeniney | @fan4rt1st | @weirdestarrow | @wolfjackle | @allulily | @onyxlightdragon | @zotinha456 | @wwwwyamd | @river9noble | @starscreamlover | @michealawithana | @robinmedea | @spideypoolalways | @jesus-camp-the-sequel | @persephoneblackrose | @clorophorm-frog | @f4nd0m-fun | @mady-is-ace-trash | @ascetic-orange | @renwilson | @ace-aro-as-shit | @rangerhorsetug | @thatrandomsarahchick | @holygoldfish | @mlpizza | @chrysanthemum9484 | @justwannaseesomebrozawa | @newgraywolf | @crazylittlemunchkin | @fire-glass​ | @eonic | @autumnrosnor | @the-nerdy-fangirl | @faithblob-says-things | @aisec-phantom | @a-star-with-a-human-name | @winged-scaly-attic-dweller​ | @mistermetalmaker | @apersond | @mustachebatschaos | @goadinggods | @joaniejustwokeup | @that-dumbass-on-a-horse | @plainly-colorful​ | @blackcatsandhaunteddolls | @booklover223 | @alice-hazelwood | @answrs | @enbydemirainbowbigfoot | @felicityroth | @wanderingrutabaga | @seraphinedemort | @write-it-right-2 | @decisively-o-indecisive | @my-mom-calls-me-rat | @01101010-01100001-01111001 | @arc-777 | @crystalice067 | @phoenixdemonqueen | @icedbluesoul  | @itsparadoxlacuna | @wisp-wishes | @spikedlynx | @redhoneysugarorange | @blu-lilac | @russetfur1128 | @mutable-manifestation | @stargirl1331 | @salembloodsong | @chaoticchange | @living-on-borrowed-time | @orshie | @britcision | @littlefeather345 | @sunflowershine03 | @aro-acedumbass | @thefanficcup | @shibanoh | @blackcatsandhaunteddolls | @racoonmcg |@ashoutinthedarkness | @icefirecrystal | @thatonejumbledmess | @cy-ella | @dolfay | @kobol1​ | @skjiasett | @metal-sporks | @tired-yet-awaken | @currant-owo | @firegirl108 | @stupidlovepurplepeace | @drowningroane | @imagineshazamlokimight | @immakittybear | @justalittletotheleftofnormal | @akikoyuii | @chrysanthemum9484 | @kawaiikenna | @imaginationmademanifest | @wisebouquettree | @a-salty-sal  | @mentalcarebear | @mj-arts-n-stuff​ | @thescarletcryptid | @xysidhe​ | @cottonscrambles​ | @manapeer​ | @yjfk​ | @ryisc​ | @666deaddash999​ | @nutcase8691​ | @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit​ | @yumeyoruppr | @latheevening226 | @dr-syko-pharm-4​ | @i-have-opinion​ |

[hopesangelsprite]

Needed Me

Pairing: Intoxicated!Geto x Black!Reader

Summary: Geto's never been fond of you, his non-sorcerer wife; only using you to appease the public and better his image. But when he swallows a particularly nasty curse, he finds you of use very quickly.

Warnings: slight dubcon, language, degradation (it's Sugu guys-), hair pulling, size kink, cunnilingus, dacryphilia, mating press, creampie, marking, choking/breath play, mentions of death

MINORS/AGELESS ACCS DNI, viewer discretion advised.

A sigh escaped you gazed out the window of your bedroom from your bed, luxury bedsheets complimenting your equally lavish living quarters. A breeze drifted in from the window causing the jewelry in your hair to jingle like wind chimes, the sound filling the quiet room. Outside your window, you could hear the hustle and bustle of daily life and your heart twinged a little. How desperately you wanted to be among people again.

From the outside looking in, your life was picture-perfect. You had a huge house, closets filled with every kind of designer brand under the sun, the latest tech, and a gorgeous husband. You scowled at the thought of your husband and turned away from the window. That sick bastard was the cause of all your misery.

Geto Suguru, a priest to some and a powerful sorcerer to others. To you, he was nothing more than an egotistical, overgrown pain in the ass. You'd met him on tour in Japan, easily charmed by his good looks and kind demeanor. When the rest of your friends left the country, you stayed behind to build a relationship with him and within the year you were married. That's when things took a turn for the worse. He wasn't as sweet anymore, you often caught him looking at you with disgust. At first, you'd thought it was a race thing, but you quickly found out it was far more sinister than that.

Suguru had revealed the Jujutsu world to you by unleashing one of his curses upon you after an argument, only letting up when you cried and begged him to take it away. For a long while after that, you were afraid of him. You let him do whatever he pleased with you from showing you off like some glorified pet to locking you away in this room. Slowly, though, the fear he'd instilled in you turned into hate and eventually passive-aggressive rage. His curses no longer frightened you as the exposure slowly built up enough energy within you to see and ward them off.

Apparently, that made him despise you even more, his insults shifting from how much of a disgusting "monkey" you were to how you were a scourge to the Jujutsu world. After a while, those insults stopped affecting you, as well.

You let a sigh pass your lips as you brushed through the locs you'd recently been allowed to get with your fingers. Your hair jewelry jingled more as you thought about what life would be like once you were free from him, how you'd lived once you managed to escape to whatever side Geto hated so much.

Those thoughts were short-lived as the sudden sound of your bedroom door bursting open startled you. You looked up only to find the devil himself crossing the door's threshold, face flushed and eyes dark. Behind him, one of his underlings rattled on about how he should be resting and that the "curse" would wear off after a few hours. Suguru growled almost inhumanly before reaching back to grab their throat, the sound of bones being crushed causing you to wince as their corpse fell to the floor. "Someone come clean him up, please.", Geto spoke into the hallway before stumbling into your room and slamming the door shut behind him.

His robes were disheveled, nearly slipping off him. The closer he drew to you, the more you could see that something was ailing him. His hair was down, a few strands clinging to the perspiration on his forehead. "Who shit in your cereal this mo-", you started to ask before his hand lashed out and closed around the pillar of your neck. Geto leaned in, hatred and lust outshining the black of his eyes, as his hand tightened with the intent to strangle you. "You shut the fuck up and hold still before I break your pretty little neck just like that weakling I killed a second ago.", he warned as his free hand began roaming the expanse of your chest, "Consider yourself blessed that I've found use of you.".

Suguru hissed through his teeth at the feeling of your tits in his hand, eyes darkening with primordial lust. He released your throat to shove you onto your bed, caging you in with his larger body, before working on removing your skirt and panties. In the back of your mind, you remembered overhearing Mimiko and Nanako talking about how awful Suguru's cursed technique was, how terrible the curses he swallowed must taste. Pity filled you as you lifted your hips, allowing him more access to you. "If you needed me to take the taste away, you could've asked.", you moaned as Geto spread your folds with his tongue, "Poor bastard.".

Geto glared at you, purposefully nipping at your bud and drawing a yelp from you. In turn, you grabbed a fistful of his hair, back arching at the feeling of him savoring you. Suguru groaned, the vibrations spreading through your pulsing cunt, and released you with a wet pop. "If you weren't such a pathetic bitch, I'd eat you every day.", he murmured before licking a stripe from your entrance to your puffy mound, "So damn sweet.". You shuddered, the knot in your tummy tightening quickly, and rolled your hips as he devoured you like a man starved. "If you weren't so fucking vile, I'd let you.", you replied with shaking thighs. Sensing your nearing orgasm, Geto pulled away from you fully, wiping your slick from his face with the back of his hand.

You glared at him as he rose to tower above you, ready to give him a piece of your mind; the words died in your throat as you watched him remove his robes, pants and underwear following soon after. Your cunt clenched around nothing at the sight of his heavy cock bobbing as it sprang up past his lowering waistband. His shaft was thick, so thick that you imagined your fingers wouldn't touch if you tried to wrap them around him. A singular bead of precum dribbled from its pale pink head trickling past prominent veins.

Suguru grasped your ankles, pulling you flat onto the mattress and directly under him. He leaned forward as he placed them onto his shoulders before spreading you wide with his hands at the back of your knees. "Don't think begging or crying's gonna make me have any pity on you.", he informed while caging you in with his whole body, "In fact, it'll only make me fuck you harder.". You rolled your eyes, lashes fluttering as Geto's inky hair brushed your forehead, and spread yourself further. "Don't think I can't handle a good-", you started only to be shut up by Suguru filling you up with one quick thrust, "Fuck!". Tears welled in your lash line as you tried to adjust to the unfamiliar sting of being stuffed wall to wall. Geto moaned whorishly as you fluttered around him, the crazed lust from earlier filling his eyes again.

You'd barely had time to catch your breath before he was pulling out and slamming back into you, hips rolling as they set in at a mad pace. As your body acclimated to his, the stinging pain melted into hot pleasure, and you found yourself fighting to keep quiet. Suguru cursed under his breath as his head dropped between your neck and shoulder. You gasped, the sound breathy and broken, as you felt him bite at your sensitive brown skin. He continued marking up your neck as you squirmed beneath him in a sad attempt to gain some distance between the two of you. Suguru chuckled between loud, lewd moans and rested his full weight onto you, deepening the mating press he'd trapped you in. "You're not going any fucking where.", he teased and you clenched around him harder.

He was right. There was no way you'd be gaining any leverage against him, any kind of relief from the overwhelming drag of his hefty cock against your plush walls. He was so much bigger than you, so much stronger. Your back arched, heaving tits pressing against his chest, as you moaned abashedly at the thought. "That's right, stop fighting and take it.", he practically mewled as his hips snapped against yours faster, "Learn your place beneath me, slut.".

Stars clouded your vision along with fat, hot tears as you came around him with a sob. Your body shook violently, your hands clawing at Suguru's back in search for something to ground you. You found nothing and plunged further into pleasure, another orgasm assaulting your core as soon as the last ended. "F-fuck you- don't stop!!", you cried as Geto shifted, the tip of his cock hammering against the spongy spot within you that you never seemed to be able to reach. He pulled you impossibly closer, his own moans choked and strained as he devoted all his energy to stuffing your weeping cunt with his seed.

Suguru came with a whimper, almost gluing his hips to yours as he pumped you full of hot, sticky cum. His hips bucked as he pumped into you a few times more before rolling onto his back with you still attached to him. Your body trembled as you tried to sit up after a while, as you tried to separate from him. Geto growled, arms locking underneath your own to hold you in place. His softening cock began stiffening inside you once more as he pulled his knees upward and braced himself.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?", he questioned while grasping at the fat of your ass, "I didn't say we were done yet.".

[church-of-crayak]

do you. do you think andalites evolved to never get a stuffy nose or are allergies like, twice as lethal sgdjs

there's a theory i've read (i'm not sure if it's a theory or if it's propped up by something i've glossed over in the books, and i'm not sure whose theory it is so i dont know who to tag) that's like... andalites wiped out a large percentage of the wildlife on their planet out of fear, as prey animals, and that's why they're stuck with like 1 bird and 3 other creatures on their planet. so i'd think they've also wiped out a lot of external-influence disease on their homeworld? they're really good at meddling with stuff, and they notoriously HATE when somebody is "weak" or incapacitated in any way on account of the raging ableism.

i think if an andalite were allergic to pollen it would probably be a foreign contaminant from whatever planet they're visiting. it would be really funny if ax were allergic to ragweed pollen, or if aldrea were allergic to the foliage on the hork-bajir homeworld, and i think if they were it would be Very severe/hard to deal with.

also technically with morphing tech (as we see from rachel) you can be allergic to the dna of a creature, so surely this has happened to a few andalites before, esp. since there's an andalite word for "vomiting up the creature that ails you" (or maybe hereth illint just means "to vomit when you've got no mouth" and it's used in context of rachel's situation because that's the only word they have to describe it)

[raccoonfallsharder]

kinktober 2024 masterlist ❤︎‬❤︎

three books. three flavors. ‧₊˚♡༉‧₊ soft & sweet | word count: 37,320. [COMPLETE] ‧₊˚♡༉‧₊ sultry & spicy | word count: 15,595. [COMPLETE] ‧₊˚♡༉‧₊ sensual & shameless | word count: 38,775. [COMPLETE]

details below...

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺☀︎ sunshine ☀︎ ⋆⁺☁︎⋆₊⊹ 18+ only | no use of y/n | f!reader | 4/4 parts | word count: 37,320. [COMPLETE] you take a stranger home for a night of celebration. why not? after all, it’s not like there will be any longterm ramifications. an expansion on day 15 of kinktober 2023.

KINKS: public sex, spanking, light praise/degradation, shower sex, temperature play, sensation play, free-use, soft/pleasure dom vibes, somnophilia, praise kink, body worship, biting/marking. check the sunshine masterlist for a more specific breakdown.  CONTEXT: au based on the mcu but i’m playing loose with the timeline and who’s still alive and stuff. let’s say post-endgame? grumpy/sunshine vibes (obviously), “secret affair” (no cheating), workplace fantasy, angst, comfort, relationship anxiety. sub reader/dom rocket. HEA of course. ☁︎⋆⁺☀︎ part one | dawn | wednesday, october 8.  ☁︎⋆⁺☀︎ part two | merediem | thursday, october 10.  ☁︎⋆⁺☀︎ part three | golden hour | wednesday, october 16. ☁︎⋆⁺☀︎ part four | vespers | saturday, october 19.

᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.⋆｡✶˖ evasive maneuvers ⌖˖✶｡⋆ 18+ only | no use of y/n | f!reader | 2/2 parts | word count: 15,595. [COMPLETE] rocket promises you an abundance of rewards in return for your assistance brushing up on some of his old résumé skills. an expansion on day 9 of kinktober 2023.

KINKS: predator/prey dynamics, breath play, restraints & rope-play, dirty talk, blindfold & gag, gunplay, electricity play, forced orgasms, overstim, dacryphilia, tech/sex toys, aftercare, biting/marking. check the ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.⋆｡✶˖ evasive maneuvers ⌖˖✶｡⋆ masterlist for a more specific breakdown.    CONTEXT: mcu-based, shortly after volume 2. established relationship (you’ve been with the guardians for a while). safeword discussion. sub reader/dom rocket. HEA of course. ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.⋆｡✶ part one | the hunt | tuesday, october 22.  ᠊ᡃ࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊°.⋆｡✶ part two | the bounty | monday, october 28.

you are cordially invited ★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊ to the fifty-second bicentennial masquerade exhibit in exitar: a night of haunting hedonism (hosted by the tivan group).

18+ only | no use of y/n | f!reader | 2/2 parts | word count: 38,775. [COMPLETE] you'd do anything for enough money to care for your ailing mother — including agreeing to a night working for the collector. too bad you weren't more prepared to be part of the entertainment.

KINKS: wolf/bunny references, exhibitionism, voyeurism, sex pollen, noncon/dubcon*, public sex, crawling, edging & overstim, dacryphilia, begging, praise/degradation, light humiliation, come-eating, dacryphilia, biting/marking, aftercare. *neither rocket nor reader are necessarily the "aggressor" in this scenario, but have both been forced to ingest an aphrodisiac by a third party. check the you are cordially invited ★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊masterlist for a more specific breakdown.  CONTEXT: AU based on mcu vibes. resourceful reader is also a bit of a nihilist (expression of apathy toward life/death). caretaker reader/discussion of ill parent/parent death. the collector & his friends are creepy bastards. sub reader / dom rocket. HEA of course. warning for no smut in part one, too-much-lore, + unhinged plant-science. ★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊ part one | tricks | thursday, october 31. ★⋆.࿐࿔˚⋆˙‧₊ part two | treats | tuesday, november 5.

pink, gray, & orange support & mdni banners and kiss divider by @/saradika-graphics | purple support/mdni banners by @/cafekitsune | pink flower, gold rose, & masquerade dividers by @/sweetmelodygraphics | yellow flower dividers by @/thecutestgrotto | silver sparkle divider by @/strangergraphics

[mandos-mind-trick]

Stella

Summary: You never thought it would happen. It wasn't supposed to, but it did. You're on the run from the Empire, pregnant with Crosshair's child. Feelings come to light and you get the chance to live your dream life both with the man you love, and your child's father.

Pairing: Hunter x reader, previous Crosshair x reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, brief discussions of abortion, mentions of a casual relationship, lots of discussion of pregnancy related stuff, lots of feelings, repressed feelings, description of labor but nothing graphic, may cause baby fever, brief mention of PTSD, major AU, kind of a crappy ending.

A/N: This was originally a very early version of how Midnight was gonna play out and I decided to change it and make it it's own story. I was going to post this for Father's Day but I just couldn't get a good feel for it that day and so I'm posting it a few days late. I'd also like to say I've never given birth, I based most of this off of what I learned going through my landlords pregnancy while she still lived with us.

Part 2 here

MASTERLIST

It comes out of nowhere. 

The nausea, the uncontrollable vomiting. The smells. You know they don’t smell good. Getting them to shower is like trying to brush a tooka. You had quickly grown accustomed to the sweaty man stench that permeated the air in the ship, only noticing it when it got exceedingly bad. 

Now it’s almost unbearable. 

You groan, pressing your head back into the wall behind you. Every little movement of the ship is sending your stomach rolling, but there’s nothing left in it to puke back up. You’re exhausted, but the thought of sleep is so far from your mind. 

“Are you...alright?” The gentle hand on your shoulder is almost too much. 

Sweet, sweet Hunter always looking out for you. 

“Don’t feel good.” You murmur, your words almost a slur in an attempt to move as little as possible. The last thing you need is to puke again. 

He moves away from you, speaking quietly with someone. You crack your eyes open as the presence returns, this one a little different. You jerk back as a datapad is thrust in your face, your hand weakly batting at Tech’s arm. 

“Body temperature is normal.” He says, moving the datapad down as he scans your body. “No sign of any respiratory distress either.” He lowers the datapad as you smack his arm again. 

“‘M fine.” You murmur, curling up in a ball. “Nauseous.” 

“Yes, it’s likely just a stomach ailment.” Tech says, moving to stand. “Bacteria related, from either food or contaminated water.” 

“But we eat the same food.” Wrecker says, listening in on the conversation. 

“Yes, but we were designed to be resistant to most common illnesses that nat-borns can be ailed with. They pass through us with hardly any symptoms.” Tech says. 

“Lucky you.” You murmur, leaning your head against the wall. It’s cold and feels nice against your skin. 

“She’ll be fine in a day.” Tech says, unconcerned as always. 

***

You are not fine. 

Your stomach had settled a bit later that day, enough to eat a ration bar and chug some water. You’d gotten some sleep, at least for a few hours. 

Then you’d puked through the landing on Ord Mantell. 

You drag your feet as you follow the guys to Cid’s, exhausted from the constant sickness. You lean against the bar, considering downing a bottle to either knock you out or at least give you an excuse to be puking your guts out. 

“I want you to stay here.” Hunter says, pulling you aside. “No offense, but you’re not exactly in the best shape.” 

You nod. “No complaints. I don’t think I’d want to go anyway.” 

“Omega is staying too.” He says. 

“Oh good. Maybe she can kick some ass at dejarik again.” You jest. 

A smile pulls at Hunter’s mouth. You’re still making jokes which is a good sign. “Keep an eye on her.” 

You wave your hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not going anywhere.” 

You slump over towards one of the booths, stretching out on it. 

Your eyes snap open as something hits the table in front of you. You look up blearily, seeing a cup sitting there. “What is that?” You slur, pushing yourself to sit up. 

“Water.” Cid says. “The kid says you need it.” 

“Thanks.” You murmur, shocked she’s not charging you for it. 

“What’s the matter with you anyway, sassy?” Cid asks. 

“Been sick to my stomach the last couple days.” You say, taking a sip of the water. It’s room temperature, likely from the tap, but it’s still water. “Tech said it's probably some bacteria. Something I ate.” 

“You sure you’re not pregnant?” 

You sit up a little straighter, the fog clearing. You stare at Cid, wide eyed. “What?” 

Cid shrugs. “I just figured, cute thing like you cooped up on a ship with a bunch of men...” She begins walking away. “They’re a bunch of fools if they haven’t even tried.” 

They have.

Successfully.

It started because you hated each other. Crosshair pushed your buttons more than anyone you’d ever met. He enjoyed it, pushing you to the point you were seeing red. He rarely ever saw consequences, Hunter stepping in before you could break his teeth or rearrange his face. 

You hated him. He was rude, crass, and downright mean to you for literally no reason other than things that were out of your control. You hadn’t chosen to be added to their squad. In fact, you would have preferred literally anything else. They weren’t unkind, well, most of them weren’t, you just weren’t happy about being cooped up in a far too small space with four, eventually five, men. 

Something shifted after you quite literally saved their asses. The 100% success rate would have been broken had you not been there to save the day. 

That was the first time you and Crosshair fucked. 

He had been seething, more so at his own failure and you having to be the one that saved the day, than anything else. You had wound up pinned to the fresher wall, his hips slamming into yours as his teeth drew blood on your neck and shoulders and his fingers left bruises on your hips. 

It became something after that. 

Hate fucking turned into just fucking which turned into...something. 

You wouldn’t call it love, at least not to him. You’re not sure he’s capable of that much. Lust, perhaps, was a better word. 

You fucked after every mission. Even between missions. You fucked in the fresher, in the bunks, even once in his bunk on Kamino. 

You felt bad for Hunter, but he never complained. 

He’d been the one to hold you while you cried endlessly about Crosshair’s betrayal. When you’d shut down, going through the basic emotions because a switch had been flipped in Crosshair and he’d turned into someone else. Someone who didn’t care. 

You’re still not over it, but at least you can ignore the pain now. 

Or, you thought you could. 

It couldn’t be possible. You both had implants. It was supposed to be impossible. 

It would have been...right before Kaller. 

That only makes it so much worse. 

****

Your hands are shaking as you make your way down the street. You had left Omega with Cid, not telling her where you were going, but she probably knew. You hadn’t even thought it could be a possibility. The symptoms checked out, though. The nausea, vomiting, sensitivity to stimuli. All the stereotypical signs you knew of. 

You hope to the Maker it’s some sort of bacteria, some foreign parasite slowly eating your insides. 

The clinic isn’t difficult to find. It’s tucked away in a corner, inconspicuous, unless you’re looking for it. You had considered going to the medical center, but you couldn’t trust they wouldn’t report you to the Empire. You had to be on some sort of wanted list now. 

So you had sought out a rather sketchy private clinic, paying upfront. You’re led back into a small room with old medical equipment. You take a seat on the table, anxiously awaiting the doctor’s arrival. 

An older woman steps into the room, giving you a quick once over. You probably look like most of her clientele. Young, desperate, nervous. You tell her why you’re there, the symptoms you’ve been experiencing. She instructs you to lay on the table, doing a quick scan head to toe. You stare at the screen, watching the results pop up. 

“There.” She points at a small dot in your uterus. “There’s a fetus, all right.” 

She zooms in, showing the small, deformed looking thing that could barely be described as human-like. Tears blur your vision for a moment and you hastily blink them back. 

“But...but how? We both have the...the implant.” You ask. 

“Implants are only 99% effective.” She answers. “They work most of the time, but then there’s still that 1%. If the conditions are right, viable pregnancy is still possible.” She studies the scan. “I’d say you’re about 8 weeks in. Still well within the realm of a safe termination, if that’s what you want.” 

You should. You can’t raise a child. Even if circumstances were different, you’re by no means capable of taking care of another human being. But...this is Crosshair’s baby. This may be the only part of him you ever get to see again. Can you really throw him away so easily like this? 

“I...I don’t know.” You whisper, staring at the screen still. 

“Well, I’ll remove your implant while you decide. Keeping it in any longer runs the risk of harm to the fetus. Replacing it will be easy.” You barely feel it, the quick cut and pull and then the cold bacta spray. You’ve gone numb. “Think on it.” She says, patting your shoulder. “Come back if you decide.” 

You walk out of the clinic in a daze. You’re not sure where you’re going, the world around you spinning. You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant with Crosshair’s baby. There’s a baby inside you. You feel like you may be sick. 

***

You’re not sure where you are. You’ve been wandering. You’re not even sure how long. You’re half dazed and lost. Even if you had been in your right mind, you’re not sure you could have found your way back now. You should stop, you should sit down, find a map, anyone that can point you where to go. 

You can’t stop walking. 

If you stop moving, you’ll have to feel. 

You don’t want to feel. 

You nearly walk straight into someone’s chest, a strong hand grips your arm to keep you standing. Your name is being called, drawing you from your dazed state. You look up, meeting a familiar pair of brown eyes. 

“Echo.” You say, blinking in surprise. 

It must be far later than you thought. 

“I’ve located her.” He says into his comm, looking you over. “She appears unhurt.” He holds you at arm length again, staring down at you. “What could you possibly be doing clear across town?” 

“I’m...what?” You look around. You don’t recognize anything. 

He pulls you slightly closer, looking at your eyes, checking your head. “No head injury that I can see. Cid said you left on an errand. You’ve been gone for hours.” 

“Oh.” Is all you can say. 

“Hunter is not pleased.” 

The words bring tears to your eyes. Of course he’s not. You’re in for a brutal reprimanding when you return. You’re not sure you can handle it. You don’t have much of a choice as Tech all but pulls you along behind him in the streets, leading you back towards the spaceport. 

At least Cid wouldn’t have to bear witness to your reprimanding. 

You’re already in tears by the time you’re climbing the steps to the Marauder, the others already back. Hunter turns on you as soon as you enter, his face stern and eyes practically blazing. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” He snaps, stomping towards you. “Running off alone like that, wandering around the city unprotected. You put all of us at risk being that careless!” 

“Hunter,” Echo warns, taking a step closer to the angry clone, but Hunter ignores him. 

“You can’t keep making these stupid mistakes. What if you had been seen? What if something had happened? You left Omega alone, wandered off somewhere doing what? What was so important that you selfishly put all of us at risk?” 

You can’t help it. You deserve the reprimanding for being so careless, but you still can’t help it. The tears come, flooding down your cheeks and dripping onto the floor of the Marauder. A sob tears from your lips, your body folding in on itself as you cry. 

Hunter and the others blink in surprise. You never cry. Not all the times you’d been injured, not when you watched the regs shoot General Billaba, not when Crosshair had betrayed all of you. You wanted to. You desperately wanted to cry over Crosshair, over losing everything, but you hadn’t. 

Now everything comes out at once. 

“I’m pregnant.” You sob, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping it might stop the tears. It doesn’t. They still keep falling. 

The Marauder is still in stunned silence. Your legs threaten to give out, Tech guiding you into one of the seats. You bury your face in your hands, unable to stop the tears from falling. 

Echo puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, kneeling down next to you. “It’s Crosshair’s, isn’t it?” 

You nod, inhaling shakily. “Eight weeks. Right before Kaller.” 

“But you both have implants.” Echo says. “That should be impossible.” 

“Technically the implants are only 99% effective. Though the chance is small, there’s still a chance of pregnancy even with both parties being protected.” Tech says. “We’ll need to remove the implant if you intend on seeing the pregnancy through.” 

“Are you going to keep it?” Echo asks. 

“I don’t know.” You sigh. “I shouldn’t. I can’t raise a baby in this. It’s too dangerous. The Empire and bounty hunters chasing us, the dangerous missions we’re being sent on. We live on a ship that’s too small for us already, I can’t have a baby in here. I shouldn’t.” 

“But...it’s Crosshair’s.” Echo says, voicing the unspoken.

You curl in on yourself again, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure you’re ready to let Crosshair go yet. 

“I think you should take some time. Consider your options.” Echo says. 

“We don’t have time.” You croak. “I can’t go on missions like this.” 

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Hunter finally says. “I think we all need to get some sleep.” 

He at least has the heart to look guilty. 

***

You can’t sleep. 

You had ensured them you were fine on the floor still, at least for now. You knew you weren’t going to sleep, so the thought of taking one of their spots is too much. You’re not sure what you’re going to do. You don’t want to terminate the pregnancy, but you may not have a choice. You can always leave, go off on your own. You don’t want to, though. The boys are like family now. 

You rise from the floor, heading towards the front of the ship. Hunter is in the cockpit, having stayed up to keep watch. You’re still in the dock on Ord Mantell, and the ship is locked and secured, but still he insisted on staying up. 

You sit in the pilot’s seat, not bothering to announce yourself. He knows. He probably knew you weren’t sleeping. 

It’s quiet between you two for a few moments. You’re both staring out the viewport, refusing to look at each other. 

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” He finally says, glancing at you. “I had no idea.” 

“You couldn’t have known.” You say. “Cid was the one that suggested it. When I told her I was sick she immediately asked if I was pregnant. I had to know. I went to some backdoor clinic. Somewhere that wouldn’t ask questions.” 

“Do you want to keep it?” He asks. 

“It’s a baby, Hunter.” You chastise. Over the last few hours, you’d been thinking more and more about the fact there’s an actual human growing inside of you.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” 

You finally look at him, meeting his gaze. It's the serious look you recognize, the look of a Sergeant worried about one of the soldiers under his command. But there's something deeper. Something more under that gaze. 

"The smart thing is to terminate. You know that and I know that." You say. "Before the war, I never thought about having children. I never considered it. I never wanted it. But then Omega came into our lives and...I started to think maybe I do want a family. Maybe I do want children." You look back out the viewport. "I don't want to keep the baby just because of Crosshair. That wouldn't be fair." You shake your head. "The war's over. If the situation had been different, I would have gone back to my life and had to decide what comes next. Maybe...maybe I want to settle down. Maybe I want kids and a house and a boring job. I don’t want to leave, but...Hunter I’m tired.” You turn to look at him again. 

“I know.” He says. The look is still there in his eyes. He knows. He knows better than any of them. “It’s your decision. Whatever you decide to do, you know we’ll support you completely. I think you’ll make a great mother.” 

You smile, leaning your head back against the seat. “Thanks. In my daydreams about my life, I’m not a single mother, but I guess some things don’t happen in the order you expect them to.” 

“Crosshair isn’t the...paternal type.” Hunter says. “Even if he knew...” 

You shake your head. “Crosshair wasn’t ever part of those daydreams.” He looks at you in surprise, but your gaze is out the viewport again. “I know he didn’t love me. I don’t even think he liked me. We fucked because it was easy. Stress relief. I...I don’t think I loved him either. He...He was rough. He hurt me sometimes, but I never said anything. I know he needed it, and it was easy to pretend with him.” You lift one of your legs, resting your heel on the edge of the seat. “I...I liked someone else when I first joined. But they were unattainable, and Crosshair just...jumped right in. I don’t regret it. I knew it would end when the war did. I just never thought I’d be here.” 

“I don’t think any of us did.” Hunter says. “None of us could have guessed what was going to happen two months ago. I never knew how you felt about Crosshair. I thought...maybe he was the one you liked. I could hear your heart rate pick up, the way your breathing quickened, I could smell the sweat, see and hear every little nervous twitch and shift. I thought it was about him. I tried not to let it bother me. I shouldn’t have...I would have been decommissioned if anyone just heard my thoughts.” 

You turn the seat, staring at him wide eyed. Your heart is pounding harder than it was a moment ago. “Hunter...” 

“I was in love with you from the first time we met. You already knew our names, knew all about us. You...cared. Kriff, I wanted to tell you. I wanted to confess, but I knew it was a risk. Then Crosshair...I had to accept that you didn’t feel the same way.” 

Tears pool in your eyes once more as you stare at him. Had he felt the same way? Had he been willing all this time, even after you had fallen in bed with Crosshair to forget? 

Hunter moves from the copilot seat, kneeling in front of you. “I’ll find us a place, somewhere safe to settle down. Someplace you can have your house and your family and Omega can be a kid. Just tell me that I’m the one in that daydream.” 

A tear slides down your cheek as you stare at him. “You can be.” 

He cups your face, brushing the tear from your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” 

You nod, closing your eyes as he leans in. The kiss is soft, hesitant but you can feel the emotion behind it. All those times he’d had to lay there, all those times he’d been forced to listen to you and Crosshair and he never said anything. 

He wraps his arms around you, tugging you onto the edge of the seat. You feel tears prick your eyes once more. He shushes you, pressing small kisses against your lips. 

“Hunter.” You quietly sob, trying to pull away. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He says, pulling you against his chest. “I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but I thought you were happy and that’s all I ever wanted. I could live with it, so long as you were happy.” 

You cling to him tighter, clutching onto the edges of his armor. You hate crying. You hate it, but you can’t stop. “Stupid pregnancy hormones.” You cry. “I hate this.” 

“It’s alright.” He says, rubbing your back. “We’ll get through this.” 

His words don’t help, only making you cry harder. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the whole galaxy, cyare.” He says, kissing the side of your head. “While I can’t give all that to you, I’ll give you what I can.” 

***

You don’t get your chance to find your new home right away. 

Instead you find yourselves back on Kamino. You had avoided all of the action, Hunter refusing to allow you to join them. 

You stand on the landing platform, staring at Crosshair. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him. The last time, he’d been so willing to kill you for the Empire. You also hadn’t known at that time that you were pregnant. 

You walk up to him, staring hard at him. He glares at you, not unusual for him. He was being stubborn, determined not to come with you despite the Empire having just tried to kill all of you. You know they don’t care. However loyal he is, he’ll never be anything but expendable to them, just like to the Republic. 

“Crosshair,” You hate the way your voice wavers. “I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant and it’s yours.” 

His glare hardens, staring hard at you. He knows you’re not lying, at least about being pregnant. You’re beginning to show, hardly more than a small bump but it’s very noticeable that it hadn’t been there before. 

“You deserve to know that what happened between us was nothing more than physical.” You continue. “I never really had true feelings for you. I don’t expect you to be with me. I don’t expect you to even be a parent to this child, but they deserve to have you in their life, and you deserve to be in theirs. So march your ass over there and get on that ship.” You point behind you at the ship. 

He narrows his eyes at you. “Why would I want to do that?” 

“Don’t be a prick, you know damn well that the Empire doesn’t care about you. You’re expendable to them, just like you were to the Republic.” You curse the tears gathering in your eyes. “Your brothers love you, Crosshair. Yes, they left and I can attest to the fact they regret it. Get your ass on that ship now before I have Wrecker come out here and drag you on board.” 

He continues to glare at you for a moment before his shoulders sag a bit. You know you’ve gotten to him, but you don’t back down, even as he walks past you. He climbs the steps to the ship slowly, passing Hunter as he goes. Hunter puts a hand on your back, and you feel a bit of a weight come off your shoulders. Crosshair’s back and safe, and you’re all dead in the Empire’s eyes. 

***

You put a hand on your stomach, breathing for a moment. The pressure is getting worse, something you can no longer ignore. You push yourself to stand, making your way towards the fresher. 

“Again?” Crosshair asks as you pass the couch. 

“Well, if your child would stop kicking me in the bladder, I wouldn’t have to go so much.” You snap, though you’re not so much angry as annoyed. 

It’s been nine months since that fateful day before Kaller, nine months since your lives had changed and fallen apart. You’ve been working hard to piece your lives back together slowly. It will never go back to being the same, and you all know that. 

Finding this planet has been a lifesaver. Far off the beaten track, filled with nothing but farmlands, it hadn’t been hard to decide this was your new home. You had found an abandoned, worn down place and fixed it up, making it your own. Tech had built more than enough rooms, but they had quickly realized sleeping alone was a lot harder when you’d had someone around you your entire life. 

Wrecker had quickly moved into Tech’s room, both of them usually keeping different sleep schedules, and Tech usually passed out hard enough Wrecker’s snoring didn’t bother him. Crosshair had moved into Echo’s room silently, both of them still plagued by nightmares. Omega was the only one thrilled to have her own room, and a real bed. 

Of course, you and Hunter had taken the largest room, which had quickly become stuffed with things for the baby. 

You knew the change had been a bit jarring for Crosshair. Even if he hadn’t felt much of anything for you, you hadn’t missed the jealousy that had crossed his face whenever you and Hunter were close. He never said anything, he never acted on anything, just silently brooding as he usually did. 

Things changed when you’d held him one night, his head in your lap, fingers laced with his as he shivered through another nightmare. Something shifted between you two, an understanding. Even though you weren’t involved physically with each other any more, he was still the father of your child. You still cared for him and wanted him around. 

You were in love with Hunter, but you still cared about Crosshair. 

It had come so easily, the love and affection between you and Hunter. He loved your unborn child like she was his, even if she was technically his brother’s baby. Tech had proudly jumped in, correcting you that since they were clones, technically the baby could genetically be all of theirs. Of course, with Crosshair’s enhancements, it was uncertain how much they would affect the baby, how much of those enhancements would pass on to offspring. 

That only made you worry, and it often kept you up at night. Would something like their accelerated growth pass on? It was hard enough coming to terms that you would likely outlive all of them. You can’t stand the thought of outliving your children too. 

You sink down on the couch next to Crosshair after finishing in the fresher. He passes a sideways glance at you before going back to whatever he was doing on his datapad. You let out a sigh, stretching your legs out. Your feet and ankles are swollen, something you’ve come to terms with. They’re always swollen, always aching. Something’s always hurting. 

Being pregnant certainly had its ups and downs. Did you regret it? No, but you couldn’t wait for it to be over. Of course, once it was over, there was an entirely new battle to face. You’d have a newborn baby, another human entirely reliant on you to care for them. That idea scared you more than actual childbirth. 

You lean your head back, relaxing on the couch in the quiet of the house. Wrecker, Tech, and Echo were in the barn working on some upgrades before the harvest season. Hunter had gone into town to pick up Omega from a friend’s house. It was just you and Crosshair, both of you happy to sit in silence. 

You’re nearly asleep when the door opens, Omega and Hunter coming in. Omega is talking about something animatedly, Hunter only halfway listening.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up then you can help start dinner.” He says, steering her down the hallway. He bends down, kissing the top of your head. “Feeling alright, cyare?” He murmurs, leaning over the back of the couch. 

You open your eyes, smiling up at him. “Yeah. But if I have to visit the ‘fresher one more time because this baby is kicking me in the bladder, I might scream.” 

He chuckles lightly, kissing your forehead. “She’s going to be a fighter.” 

“She already is. She’s been beating me up for six months.” You pout. “I can’t wait until she’s here.” 

“Tech says any day now. If she’s not here in two weeks, we may have to consider inducing.” 

You make a face. “I’d rather not. It’s bad enough Tech is going to be the third member of this squad to see my vagina.” 

Crosshair’s shoulders shake as he laughs silently. 

“We might as well invite Wrecker and Echo in, make it a full set.” You push yourself up from the couch. “Everyone gets to see my vagina.” You start making your way down the hall. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to scream in the ‘fresher.” 

***

You can’t sleep. It’s early, the sky still dark out the window. Hunter is awake too, his arms wrapped around you, cradling your stomach. She’s been moving a lot, every time you’d settled and gotten close enough to rest, she’d move again, pushing on some organ inside you. 

You’d given up on sleeping. Hunter had snoozed for a bit, but he’d been awake most of the night too. He had told you not only could he hear her heartbeat, but he could also hear her moving. It freaked you out, and you can only imagine how he feels. His nose is pressed against your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Are you smelling me?” You ask quietly. It wasn’t unusual, he smelled you more than what most would consider normal, but you knew with his senses he could pick up even the smallest change if he focused. 

“I think it’s going to happen soon.” He says, kissing your shoulder. “She sounds different.” 

You sigh. “I hope so. I can’t stand this waiting.” 

You’d lost your mucus plug a week ago. Tech had said she could come at any time now. AZI’s predicted due date was technically tomorrow, but if you didn’t go into labor by next week, Tech said you’d need to be induced. 

You were hoping that was not going to be needed. You’ve been having some light cramping since yesterday, but nothing substantial. 

You smooth your hands over your stomach, breathing out a sigh. “Come on, baby girl. I know you want out as much as I want you out.” You push yourself up to sit, rubbing your eyes. “Hunter?” He grunts in response. “Will you get me some of the leftover meat from last night?” 

You can practically hear his smile as he pushes himself up. “You want some fruit too?” 

“No, just the meat.” 

He gets up, heading down the hall to the kitchen. He had grown used to your strange cravings quickly, keeping many things on hand just in case. There was never any waste, as Wrecker would eat anything and everything you didn’t want. You move to the rocking chair in the corner, hoping you can get her to settle enough that you can get some sleep. Once you go into labor, you know sleep will be impossible. 

Half the day passes and there’s no sign yet. The cramps have started to increase a bit, getting more uncomfortable than painful. Hunter sticks close, watching and waiting. He’s hovering a bit, but you know it’s just what he’s going to do. 

You spend a lot of the day on the couch, trying to relax and sleep as much as possible. You get up every so often, stretching your legs. You’re in the kitchen when it happens, something wet leaking down your thighs. 

“Well, either this is very embarrassing, or my water just broke.” You say. 

Chaos erupts, both Hunter and Tech trying to see. Omega is jumping excitedly as Echo tries to contain her, poor Wrecker looking around confused. Crosshair is the only calm one, seated at the table. The only movement he makes is moving the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. 

You move into the bedroom as planned, having refused Tech’s offer to give birth in his lab. It was much more sterile, he insisted, but you wanted to be comfortable. This was already going to be awful, the least you could get was some comfort. 

The contractions begin to get stronger into the night, most of what you had to do now was more waiting. At least things were moving. Sometime in the next two days the baby would come. You shift through various positions sitting and standing, just trying to be comfortable through the contractions. Tech and Hunter wait patiently, Hunter helping support you when needed. AZI does regular scans, checking on the baby’s progress, making sure she’s not in distress. 

The only thing that’s missing is Crosshair.

You wanted him to be present for the birth, since this was his daughter. He deserved to see the birth of his child. Even if he wanted nothing to do with her, he deserved to see her be born. 

“Go tell Crosshair to get his toothpick chewing ass in here.” You grit out after another contraction. They’re getting closer and closer together, the time getting closer and closer. 

Hunter steps out, leaving you leaning against the side of the bed. He returns shortly after, Crosshair stepping in. Whatever Hunter had said, it had motivated him without much of an argument. 

You wave him over, leaning against his chest. “I’m gonna kill you after this.” You murmur, wrapping your arms around him. “This sucks.” 

He wisely keeps his mouth shut, wrapping his arms around you. You squeeze him as another contraction tears through you, the night getting later and later. 

It’s not until early in the morning when it happens. Hunter sits behind you, propping you up and supporting you. Crosshair kneels beside the bed, holding your hand as you push. Tech kneels at the end of the bed, AZI keeping a live scan to make sure everything is going fine. 

You’re half delirious, weak and exhausted as you bring your daughter into the world. Tech lays her on your chest, getting the warm rags to clean her off. Tears blur your vision as you listen to her cry, letting go of Hunter and Crosshair to hold her. She’s so small, so delicate. You can hardly believe it’s happened, it’s finally over. 

Tech has to practically pry her from your arms to check her over and clean her up, Hunter helping clean you up. He and Crosshair get you settled in bed, Tech bundling your daughter in a blanket before passing her off to you. 

You hold her, staring down at her in awe. You can hardly believe she’s really here, your baby is finally here with you. She’s so tiny and pink, with a shock of white hair on top of her head. You smile, tears rolling down your cheeks as you stare at her. 

“She’s so beautiful.” You whisper, holding her close. “You made a beautiful baby, Crosshair.”

“I think that’s all you.” He says, moving closer to you as Hunter all but shoves him closer. 

You smile. “Would you like to hold her?” 

He blinks at you for a moment. You shift, offering her over. He takes her hesitantly, like he’s scared of breaking her. You adjust her in his arms, making sure they’re both comfortable. He stares down at her for a long time, like he can’t believe he really made her, like she’s not real. 

You smile, watching him as his eyes soften a bit, his finger lifting to trace her cheek. She opens her eyes, staring up at him. They look like little shining stars, and you hope they’ll be brown like his. 

“Have you thought of a name?” Tech asks, cleaning up the rest of the mess. 

You had discussed it with both Hunter and Crosshair, the latter being less enthusiastic about having to choose. You wanted his input, even if he was positive he wanted nothing to do with raising her. 

“Stella.” Crosshair answers, still staring down at her face. 

You had brought that name forward as an option, adding it to the neverending list of possibilities. You had decided to wait to officially choose, wanting one that would match her perfectly. 

You glance at Hunter and he gives a small nod. “Stella it is.” 

Hunter wraps his arms around you, letting you lean against his chest. “Get some rest, mesh’la.” He says, kissing your head. “You did a lot of work. She’s in good hands.” 

Crosshair glances up at Hunter, Hunter giving him a reassuring smile. Maybe he does want to be part of her life after all. 

Taglist:

@bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @rosechi, @lune-de-miel-au-paradis

[sleepyfan-blog]

Observing

Author’s Note: this is Mer-Sirass’ debut! I hope you enjoy it! Next

Tagged: @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel @egrets-not-regrets

Warnings: none, please ask me to tag if something bothers you

Summary: Sirass and his human study some clownfish

Ancient Terra was filled with all sorts of fascinating things. Despite how primitive the technologies that humanity had created in the third millennium, the natural spaces on Terra were many and vast. Sirass had initially believed that he'd landed on a low-tech pleasure world. Yes, there were scents of pollutants in the air and water, and there was mild habitat destruction... But the natural beauty of Ancient Terra could not be overstated. 

For example, Sirass and his beloved bonded had been studying sea anenome and the fish that lived in harmony with the largely sedentary marine invertebrate. He had initially believed the creature to be some sort of plant, and had been pleasantly surprised to find out that it was an animal of some kind. The symbiotic relationship that it had with the brightly colored fish that lived between it's many tendrils was fascinating to study. The iron warrior could see why his bonded had chosen to devote their life to studying the creatures that lived within the oceans and seas of their homeworld. 

That and his human's chosen field of study was the reason why the two of them had met. He'd gotten caught up in a massive net by an industrial fisher and had been thrashing around, trying to pull himself free of the fucking thing when his bonded human had swam over in the protective equipment that allowed them to breathe. They'd seem to think that he'd been some sort of dolphin - and by his primarily grey tones, he didn't blame her. His thankful rumble in their native tongue when his human had freed him - along with his bold black and yellow striping on his fins had brought them up short. They'd signed at him, asking him to surface with them. He'd agreed and that was the first of many conversations that the two of them had shared.

The small orange and white striped fish didn't seem to care - or even notice - Sirass' watchful gaze as it meandered around its' home. Several dozen much smaller clownfish poked their tiny heads out from the top of the sea anemone as it's tendrils waved along with the gentle ocean currents. He lightly poked his human from their intense perusal of the wider coral reef - some sort of sickness had been plaguing the ecosystem, which his human and their colleagues were desperately trying to figure out the cause of, or at least a way to treat the ailing coral reef. If the coral died, it would likely mean the collapse of the entire ecosysem in the area, and it would take years if not decades to bring back the underwater ecosystem to a fraction of what it was.

Sirass had his suspicions as to what was going on, but had not voiced them, yet. He would patrol this area later, when his human and their friends had left. 

After all, not all astartes were friendly with humans on ancient terra, even if most were neutral. Sirass didn't want to possibly put them in danger. 

His human cooed silently over the baby clownfish before counting and writing down their numbers, gesturing for another human to come over as they began tagging the clownfish babies.

Sirass was happy to help catch any escapees who managed to evade the much clumsier baseline humans.

[dokidokitsuna]

Inventor/Invention

-In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been trying to make most of the characters in this AU look like they’re age 50+...which is something I’ve never done before, and it might explain why the designs have been so hit or miss. ^^;;;  Fortunately, Susie seems to be a hit; I like how this drawing came out. ^^ I think this body type + clothing aesthetic + age demographic is a particularly rare combination; personally I’ve never seen a character who looks like this before. And yet, I managed to make it work~.

-Susie (the current ‘President Haltmann’, btw) is basically Magolor’s right hand, and helps him with all the technological aspects of his conquest-- not only did she create Auto-Nightmare, she also had a large hand in cloning Blade, and studies the progression of her disease throughout the story. In return for playing the tech support role, she’s allowed to have the Haltmann Works Co. drain resources from all the worlds that Magolor conquers-- which he would agree to, of course, since it would be an easy way to keep his new subjects in line (read: oppressed and afraid) while he’s off looking for more heroes to murder.

It makes me wonder, though, what would happen if the “player” chooses to have Magolor become nicer over the course of the story…like, if he really does turn himself around, he and Susie would have to come into conflict over this deal eventually. ^^; Maybe I just won’t let him get to that point; maybe the best he can do for the purposes of the story is learn to love Blade and take care of her…while completely ignoring all the evil he’s done to the rest of the universe, and simply not giving a damn about letting the HWC consume everyone and everything he left behind. XD

-P.S. Susie basically has two main designs: she’d appear in this physical form for certain cutscenes, but fight exclusively with her mecha (which I totally will draw at some point…I promise…⚆u⚆; )

-Auto-Nightmare is the result of me wanting to finally use Nightmare in an AU for once, but wanting to do it in an unorthodox way. ^^ Besides, I can’t really see a more canon-esque Nightmare willingly being subservient to someone like Magolor…and in terms of traitors/fickle allies, Mags already has his hands full with Marx. I don’t need another character in the party who plays the same role…

So Auto-Nightmare was born, combining the Power Orb with some of Nightmare’s accessories to create this cuter, more unassuming design. Which eventually informed his character concept.

-”Auto” is not really Nightmare; not even an amnesiac-reset version of Nightmare. Technically he’s just a machine that was designed to force Nightmare’s Power Orb to awaken…but ultimately failed, and now simply draws from its power to create his own identity and abilities. The result is this walking bundle of anxiety who feels inferior to his “former self”, and tries to make up for it by doing everything his bosses tell him to do. ^^; However, over the course of the story, he befriends Blade, and starts to become more assertive. He may not be able to stand up for himself, but he quickly learns to stand up for his ailing friend, even to the point of openly criticizing Magolor for his treatment of her.

-As you might have guessed, this is where his “death” comes in. ^^ Soon after I decided he should be Blade’s only real friend, I kinda knew he had to die, because he would end up getting in Magolor’s way. Isolation is a large part of what makes an abusive relationship work; a victim with a staunch supporter who genuinely wants what’s best for them will escape your control eventually... …Besides, Magolor is terribly petty, and would probably be offended by this ‘magic tin can’ talking back to him…enough to snap and shatter his face while Blade is unconscious, if the "player" so chooses. =T

Because Auto isn’t really alive, he doesn’t exactly die…the Power Orb itself can even reform on its own. But breaking it in the first place causes his whole system to reset: he reverts to a silent, emotionless shell who just stands around and follows simple commands...and this is a devastating, soul-crushing event for Blade. Especially if you go one step further and choose to have Magolor lie about what happened to Auto, and/or imply that she killed him accidentally during one of her Malady flare-ups.

-On that note, if you don’t choose to have Magolor go down ^that sickeningly cruel path and just leave Auto alone, Blade actually does kill Auto accidentally, leading to a similar outcome. But at least then, it becomes an opportunity for Magolor to help Blade through this traumatic experience, and start to form a genuine bond with her. Again, if the "player" so chooses~.

[knizuu]

DECIDED A REBLOG WOULDN’T BE ENOUGH- // FANG RANT PT 2

Ok ok ok, WE BACK AND CHATTIN’. TIME TO GRAB POPCORN OR WATER IDK TO ENJOY MY RANT <33 +uhh warning ig: get ready for BEEG over analyzation lol 

.

.

.

Soooo

Notice the color used on the arrows? Symbolizing yellow and red? If you see this conversation as a mockin’ful, you can relate the meanings. If used negatively [seems fitting for this scene], you get this: Yellow meaning cowardice, and red meaning warning. 

Honestly, this is VERY fitting, knowing how scared Fang is in Fang’s Big Break. The amount of fear he gets in Superstars as a whole really makes you worry for him. Bean is pretty explanatory, he’s “getting tired of Fang’s antics”. Reason for Bark not having the arrow, I'm not sure, possibly because he’s not verbally arguing, or he’s not as mad as the others. Either way, I think Bark is just more caring about the situation. With this hypothetical situation, I think Fang is just scared that he’ll be alone. So he turns reactive in the face of a jerky persona. For Bean, he’s gaining more independence. I know this rant isn’t about ‘im but I really do realize how much Bean is getting as a character. He’s speaking more, asking the questions, getting sassy more on screen. 

Okay, now let’s get into connecting Fang’s Big Break with Fang the Hunter. I’m claiming that FTH is before FBB, because I’m sure that’s the motion for it. Looking at the images below, don’t they look similar? Somewhat? Now I want you to mash those frames up, with the speech including the thoughts.

“Bean?! Bark?!” [Get your act together! You’re repeating your past mistakes! You’re better than this! You have to be!] Both are in distress, and it shows how much content is missing from the cover [saying that Fang is just what he shows to be]. And even if both situations are VERY DIFFERENT: See how that helps my case even more. In FTH, he’s with his crew and now they’re gone. Of course he’s gonna yell out for them, that’s the first instinct. This is expected, if you lost the people near you, of course you’re gonna call for ‘em. Nothing deep is seen here, but for the right image, I differ. I say it over and over again, but he really is trying to be better. The context is, he’s on a hunt and he angered a bird who now is chasing him along with crushing his cork gun. A big difference between the situations is that he STARTED alone compared to becoming alone. With no one else in his mind, he’s gonna worry for himself. But he isn’t getting mad about being alone [at least, from what’s written], he’s not yelling for help, he has only himself to talk to. And what does he notify himself? “Get your act together”. He’s trying to stop his mistakes, whatever that may be. 

Let’s use that past sentence, and although it ails Hooligan fans [INCLUDING ME AHHHHHH </3], let’s imagine Bean, Bark, and Fang harshly separated. If you put that hypothetical with Fang’s thoughts, you can imagine he’s telling himself to stop being careless.+SINCE I’M STILL MAKING THIS HAPPY, THIS HYPOTHETICAL DEF HAS BEAN AND BARK COMING BACK <33

From sources, people push others away so that they won’t get hurt. Well, you could use that to correlate with Fang’s behavior. 

This is what Sega calls him, a jerk, “our favorite jerky jerboa!”, even in Archie, “And a total jerk”. This actually lines up with pushing others away, making this term more seemingly true. Going to the main point, you can see why Fang would want to stop acting this way. It led him to be alone, without “his boys”, without the zaniness that his gang brings him. It’s not the same anymore. (this is where I insert my shipping blast btw)

 In Superstars, this is correct! We don’t see Bean or Bark, we’re introduced to Trip [a WHOLE NEW gal], Fang is working very close to Eggman, and heck, his tech got upgraded.

*okay rando thing: In FTH, he wishes the Marvelous Queen gets the upgrades she needs to take Sonic down. In Superstars, he gets more than that, he gets his own robot ALONG with tons of upgrades for the MQ…if FTH is before Superstars, would he feel achievement? Somehow? +yknow, until it blows up [yeh, i'm not joking] 

BACK TO LE COMIC, …oh ye I technically went over everything. Or at least, what goes into his mentality,..UHH

Let’s look at Trip rq. Trip the Lizard gets an entire arc in Superstars! Her dynamic between her and Fang is simple, Trip tries to help or Trip tries to do what Fang says and Fang just relents and belittles her. Once Trip gets kicked by Fang, [Trip had to gull to stop Fang] she gains her heroism and sides with Sonic. Fang gets defeated by her anddddd ye that’s the last of Fang in that story. Now, I'm gonna show how sweet she was, even if Fang wouldn’t return the respect. 

I know Sonic Channel isn’t usually taken as canon, but like SHE GIVES HERSELF THE BAD PANCAKE, LIKE AWHH<33 And she doesn’t give up when given commands, tho that can be because she’s verbally forced to. And in the left image, Fang isn’t mad or annoyed about her behavior. Obviously it’s a calm setting, +he’s getting something good. Gosh, he looks surprised, or a little concerned,  because “Why is she still being like this after the stuff I push her through?” It’s not new to him though, it’s like Bean and Bark all over again. They stick together through many things. But the more he doesn’t let others in his life, he’ll just get hurt more and more. This is where I'd say Fang should try to listen to himself, “Get your act together” “You’re better than this”, but in the sense he should open up, that he should be more emotional and let his mind speak. I think that explains why he’s unlikable to some, he’s just reacting madly with no reason. And if I were to find a reason, it’d be because he’s not getting what he deserves, a close bond. And bringing up the sad fact, if he doesn’t let himself be himself, he’s not going to get what he needs. I swear, he’s regretting his choices, but it seems like he’s gone far. Trip could’ve helped but she moved sides. In FTH, Bean and Bark are staying, and I can only hope it STAYS.THAT. WAY. Cause like, Team Hooligan has been together for SO LONG, Bean and Bark are having fun with Fang, and Fang is leveled out with Bean and Bark. 

Ngl, this is supposed to be a “This is why the way he is” more than “He’s justifiable”, but I think my rant could give new insight as to why he’s not a horrible character. Especially when there’s so many others already avoiding an unlikable Fang, Fang Gang being my prime example :] cause we love the silly jerboa! We don’t STOP loving him, and we make sure of that. <33

[rickva186]

Hey I’m VA.

Out of character: VA’s my longest standing Rick and Morty OC. I’m just now putting him back on the tumblr.com.

People who knew VA: Welcome back! Some things have changed, lots of background loring’s happened.

People who don’t:

VA is a big Rick-obsessed narcissist. He loves Ricks! Well, he did. He’s grown and now he’s a well rounded character. Jeez there’s a lot to unpack…

I’ll type out the lore later. Just know that

He used to be a Big Rick Pharma Tech

He’s sweet on Ricks

✨Lore happened✨

His tag is #va186 there’s some old nuggets of who he was in there. Feel free to dig around.

My art is under #my art

I collect rp intro posts under #rp intro post ---- VA'S LORE

VA-186 was a pharmaceutical engineer in the Citadel, he created drugs and miracle cures for what ailed the Rick problem. He ran a shop which employed similar VAs, such as VA-187 and VA-186b (that guy's a weirdo we don't talk about him). He also employed one of his clones which now roams the universe as Janerith (whole sub plot, I'll post about it later). He grew up in the Citadel and in my own timeline of events he was taken from his dimension by the Citadel to become a cog in their machine. VA was known around the Citadel as Rickcestual, and even pioneered this lifestyle in his own way. It was his ahem, gay pride movement. This was around the time where he met Doc Rick (https://doc-rick-a106.com/) and had well, his story rocked. On tumblr.com he was around messing with Ricks, being a nusense while in the background lore happened. Lore - he had a relationship that sent him spiraling and left him with ghosts in his brain. The Citadel blew up in a season (if I remember, I kinda refuse to rewatch RAM) and he was left out of the Rick loop for a while. He retreated to his planet and lived life there peacefully. Until he eventually got married to himself, or Lumberjack Rick, and was happy with him for a bit. He lived with him for a while and VA-186's Earth blew up too with the Smiths and Jessica escaping. VA's on and off relationship with iterations of Doc, known now as Nutty, still persisted even whilst married. VA quickly left Lumberjack after being 'too happy' and started his own adventures at this time with VA-186 Morty (reunited after the earth exploding and them conquering a planet). VA would then go on to submerse himself in VR fantasies until his death where he went to Hell. This brings us to the current time where he's technically still from Hell (subplot: he's 'alive' to torture people, kinda like Crowley from Good Omens) he's on his own, and his Morty is adventuring on his own with Rick's portal gun.

This is the most lore I've ever written for VA so sorry if none of it makes sense or you never saw any of it. He's been a thought experiment for years now.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

#20yrsago Sony bullies Retropod off the net https://web.archive.org/web/20041018040446/http://www.retropod.com/

#15yrsago This Side of Jordan – Violent jazz age novel by Charles M Schulz’s son Monte https://memex.craphound.com/2009/10/16/this-side-of-jordan-violent-jazz-age-novel-by-charles-m-schulzs-son-monte/

#10yrsago FBI chief demands an end to cellphone security https://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/17/us/politics/fbi-director-in-policy-speech-calls-dark-devices-hindrance-to-crime-solving.html

#10yrsago Please, Disney: put back John’s grandad’s Haunted Mansion tombstone https://thedisneyblog.com/2014/10/16/petition-to-return-a-lost-tombstone-to-the-haunted-mansion/

#10yrsago How Microsoft hacked trademark law to let it secretly seize whole businesses https://www.wired.com/2014/10/microsoft-pinkerton/

#10yrsago If you think you’ve anonymized a data set, you’re probably wrong https://web.archive.org/web/20141014172827/http://research.neustar.biz/2014/09/15/riding-with-the-stars-passenger-privacy-in-the-nyc-taxicab-dataset/

#10yrsago The lost cyber-crayolas of the mid-1990s https://memex.craphound.com/2014/10/16/the-lost-cyber-crayolas-of-the-mid-1990s/

#5yrsago “The People’s Money”: A crisp, simple, thorough explanation of how government spending is paid for https://neweconomicperspectives.org/2019/10/the-peoples-money-part-1.html

#5yrsago What it’s like to have Apple rip off your successful Mac app https://memex.craphound.com/2019/10/16/what-its-like-to-have-apple-rip-off-your-successful-mac-app/

#5yrsago Blizzard suspends college gamers from competitive play after they display “Free Hong Kong” poster https://www.vice.com/en/article/three-college-hearthstone-protesters-banned-for-six-months/

#5yrsago Terrified of bad press after its China capitulation, Blizzard cancels NYC Overwatch event https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2019-10-15/blizzard-cancels-overwatch-event-as-it-tries-to-contain-backlash

#5yrsago A San Diego Republican operator ran a massive, multimillion-dollar Facebook scam that targeted boomers https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/craigsilverman/facebook-subscription-trap-free-trial-scam-ads-inc

#5yrsago Britain’s unbelievably stupid, dangerous porn “age verification” scheme is totally dead https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2019/10/uk-government-abandons-planned-porn-age-verification-scheme/

#5yrsago Not only is Google’s auto-delete good for privacy, it’s also good news for competition https://memex.craphound.com/2019/10/16/not-only-is-googles-auto-delete-good-for-privacy-its-also-good-news-for-competition/

#5yrsago Edward Snowden on the global war on encryption: “This is our new battleground” https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/oct/15/encryption-lose-privacy-us-uk-australia-facebook

#5yrsago In Kansas’s poor, sick places, hospitals and debt collectors send the ailing to debtor’s prison https://features.propublica.org/medical-debt/when-medical-debt-collectors-decide-who-gets-arrested-coffeyville-kansas

#5yrsago Want a ride in a Lyft? Just sign away your right to sue if they kill, maim, rape or cheat you https://memex.craphound.com/2019/10/16/want-a-ride-in-a-lyft-just-sign-away-your-right-to-sue-if-they-kill-maim-rape-or-cheat-you/

#5yrsago #RedForEd rebooted: Chicago’s teachers are back on strike https://www.thenation.com/article/archive/union-strike-chicago-teachers/

#1yrago One of America's most corporate-crime-friendly bankruptcy judges forced to recuse himself https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/16/texas-two-step/#david-jones

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

[yunuen]

reader and writer friends, can you help me out choosing a summary for a fic i've posted? i'm thinking of changing the one i picked originally and i'm stressing about it idk even why:

OPTION 1:

Jayce materializes in the middle of a blizzard, because of course he does. His body hits the ground with a sickening thud and a crack. The momentum — impossible, given he had no mass, no velocity just moments ago, floating weightlessly as he was in a sea of raw magic — carries him downhill quite a distance.

His first coherent thought is of pain.

The second, as ever, is of Viktor.

OPTION 2: “I don’t know,” Viktor murmurs when Jayce hesitantly asks what the fusion of flesh, tech and magic that makes up his ailing body is. He keeps his gaze downcast, slender, synthetic fingers tightening around his staff. “There’s still no word for what I am.” Jayce says nothing, but beautiful is the word that comes to mind. That has always come to mind. OPTION 3 (CURRENT):

When Viktor finally asks Jayce why he stayed behind, Jayce stares at him as though he’s supremely disappointed by the question — as if Viktor has betrayed his own brilliance by asking something so irredeemably stupid. “How could I not? We’re partners.”

Partners, Jayce calls them. Not for the first time, Viktor wonders: Partners in what?

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Nancy Gryspeerdt: On my second day earwigging for Michael Gambon, I found myself lying under the bed in which the legend of stage and screen was portraying Winston Churchill. It was 2015, and we were on the set of Churchill’s Secret. Hidden this way, I was out of view for the camera, but not out of earshot, so I could shout out his lines for him to repeat. The idea was we’d cut my bellowing out of the scene afterwards. Earwigging is the process of reading an actor’s lines into a microphone. These are then fed into a tiny earpiece in the actor’s ear. The tech is imperfect and sometimes it fails, as it had that day when I was forced to improvise by hiding under the bed. Certain movie stars are said to opt for an earpiece purely to save the time and effort of learning lines, but I find that hard to believe. Line-by-line feeding is tricky. It can cause random pauses and actors often look distracted as they listen. The frustration Michael felt about the whole process was profound.

Michael had lost the ability to learn lines several years before. He would often recount how he’d been rehearsing Alan Bennett’s play The Habit of Art at the National Theatre in 2010 and suddenly collapsed, in fear. Memory decline was what he was afraid of, a slippery slope he would indeed begin to slide down. He was replaced in The Habit of Art and only returned to theatre once more in a one-man play, Krapp’s Last Tape, that relied upon his recorded voice more than live monologue. Developing a method for memorising and recalling lines is part of every actor’s practice. For all but the most demanding jobs, it’s a basic requirement before the real work begins, not a proof of acting talent. Occasional lapses happen, like an ill-timed cramp might for an athlete. But when an actor loses the ability to learn lines, it’s a career-ending injury. If you don’t have your lines, it is all you can think about.

Becoming an earwig hadn’t been my plan. Before stepping in to cover for Michael’s regular earwig in her absence, I was a director’s assistant and budding script editor. I got the gig because the director saw how much I loved watching actors work. It is a very well-paid role, partly, I think, because everyone involved feels reassured by the extortionate fees, as they might by paying a Harley Street doctor. The plot of Churchill’s Secret centred on the ailing prime minister being brought back from the brink after a stroke by the tough love and care of a young nurse. It’s possible that at the time of my peculiar meet-cute with Michael, the part of the nurse rubbed off on me. It was Michael’s last leading role, and the fact that Churchill’s situation spoke to his own paid off. He was proud of his performance. I continued to work with him until he fully retired in 2018, my work becoming palliative. The jobs ranged from a high-budget period drama (Victoria and Abdul), to indie projects done on a shoestring, to an almost walk-on part in Renée Zellweger’s Judy Garland biopic.

Though it was never properly defined, my job included telling Michael what the script was about and how he fitted into it. Then, we would run his lines over and over, in the back of cars and hotel lobbies, in an attempt to allay his massive anxieties. Despite this exhaustive prep, he was unable to retain much. And when we stepped on the set, we were starting virtually afresh. I would usually take my place in some cupboard within radio range and, watching him on a handheld monitor, I’d cue him, using exaggerated emphasis to suggest where we were in a sentence, while trying to keep my meaning somehow neutral.

Sometimes he’d find my intonation inoffensive; he would have less trouble interpreting the sentence and could make it his own. Sometimes he’d contort my emphasis, resulting in unusable takes for which we’d both feel guilty. He often said he wanted me to read lines “straight, like a machine”, willing me to be less of an encumbrance to his expression. But when we experimented with less signposting, he couldn’t gain sense from my sounds. Ever the precision engineer he had trained to be, he was insistent that if he had the use of his younger brain he could build the contraption he needed to compensate for its gradual decay.

Michael’s desire for autonomy was based on what he’d achieved, an incredible career characterised by versatility and power. Of his TV work, he was best known for The Singing Detective; of his films, for his role as Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts in Harry Potter (a film that “changed everything”, not necessarily for the better). But his humane presence enriched movies as various as The Cook, The Thief, His Wife & Her Lover; Gosford Park; Layer Cake; The Wings of the Dove; The Life Aquatic and Quartet. In the 1960s, his work on TV series The Borderers led to him being sized up as a candidate to play James Bond. But he thought of himself as a stage actor first. Over the decades, he’d interspersed Shakespeare with Brecht, Pinter, Ayckbourn and Caryl Churchill, at the Birmingham Rep, then the Royal Shakespeare Company, then everywhere else that mattered.

[Financial Times]

[ahamasmiyodhah]

Okay since I saw your post which told how you're getting bored, here I'm requesting something ! Can you please give us desi writing prompts like 4-5 different ideas??! I have seen both of your stories and have been a fan so I love the story ideas you create !!! ✨

Here are some Desi love story prompts across different genres:

Period Romance Drama

Set in pre-independence India, a young freedom fighter and a royal princess are forced into an arranged marriage to unite their kingdoms against a common enemy. Torn between their duty and their secret roles in the resistance, they must navigate palace politics, cultural clashes, and their growing feelings for each other while risking everything for the nation’s freedom.

Contemporary/Business AU

A successful tech entrepreneur returns to his hometown in India to care for his ailing father and rebuild the family business. He reconnects with his childhood friend, now a single mother struggling to make ends meet. As they work together to revive the business, old feelings resurface, but their vastly different lives threaten to keep them apart.

Mythological Fantasy

In a world where ancient myths and legends come to life, a young warrior is tasked with protecting a sacred temple from dark forces. He falls in love with a mysterious temple priestess who harbors secrets that could either save or doom their world. Together, they must navigate a web of magic, betrayal, and destiny as they fight to keep the darkness at bay.

Action Thriller Drama

An undercover cop infiltrates a powerful crime syndicate to take down a notorious kingpin. He falls for the kingpin’s fierce and independent daughter, who is unaware of his true identity. As he gets closer to his target, he must choose between his duty and his love, knowing that one wrong move could cost them both their lives.

Enemies to Lovers: College Edition

Two students from rival colleges meet at an inter-college competition and instantly clash. Despite their differences, they’re forced to work together on a project that could change both their futures. Amidst pranks, heated arguments, and stolen glances, they discover that sometimes love can bloom in the most unexpected places.

Let me know if you’d like to explore any of these prompts further!

[myfriendpokey]

meet the beetles

vidcons were new media when the idea of new media was no longer new, was a path with known waypoints, a citizen kane here, a maus there… except as soon as this path was mapped out it no longer applied, the landscape no longer made sense. as if videogames as postmodern form was still cursed with a modernist conception of itself, this shadowy mirror life that seemed to mock and undercut the achievements available in postmodernity (say it with me: "videogames are bigger than the film industry!!"). the idea of some heroic transformative turn being just around the corner became less and less persuasive every year, until we were left with an unsettling sense that the medium as a whole had stopped, that it had died… this came as no news to hobbyists who had always experienced the medium as dead, who lived and worked inside the grisly material husk the format left behind on its movement from tradeshow to tradeshow - always a decade or two behind the cutting edge that the medium wrapped its identity around. but now even the tradeshows seem ailing and the format's own hype-men have either moved on to more exciting variants of stillborn new media (vr! nfts! ai!) or else were shaken by a sense that the tech industry's own master narrative was no longer looking so hot. the consultantification of the medium, trying to shore up a leaky ship with a delayed appeal to incremental reforms… we no longer just say that videogames suck as that hits too close to home, and there's no longer any confidence that these brash provocations can actually be followed up, instead we're left agreeing with each other that the format is actually doing pretty well, all things considered, and maybe just needs a few extra touch ups to look, uh, good as new. there are still frustrations bubbling beneath the new consensus. something i feel i've seen a lot more of lately is a kind of irritated aversion to the "same old thing but with new aesthetics" school of game design, complaints about formal conservatism etc… and as sympathetic as i am to arguments that videogames should just be weirder, i also sort of feel, well, didn't we just do that? does the desire to feel some kind of momentum again really mean we're stuck relitigating Games Formalism II: The Bitch Is Back?

for a sec let's do the opposite and assume the horrible unyieldiness of videogames, their stuck and stubborn refusal to "evolve", is not a failure in art's traditional relation to the cultural unconscious so much as the way that relation manifests. if we take this failure seriously, take it as something which is itself historically new. what would it mean for game-making - to live and work inside a dead format, to be a worm inside the corpse? the decomposing body becomes a visionary landscape, new colours, unnatural tints, sharp contrasts of vividness and paleness - old boundaries melt and run together, yield to gentle pressure of the penetrating beak. there is no longer such a strong boundary between the inside and outside. the bones show through the skin, the hidden things we took for granted renew themselves in their full strangeness. but also: there is no sense of these discoveries doing anything, leading anywhere. as temporary perceptions they might be startling and immediate but the question of what impact the little aesthetic explorers of the fields, worms bugs beetles millipedes etc, are individually having as they gnaw the corpse into something else is probably too fussy to calculate. meaningless bounded riches of experience… that's right, we're back to that thing everybody hates. we're back to aesthetics.

if videogames are haunted by a kind of pop-modernism then modernism itself is haunted by the aesthetic - by an aestheticism it tried to define itself against, the stale drawing-room air of the 19th century. over and over in reading those manifestos we find artistic calls to move past art, into something the authors frequently defined as more "active" than the "passive" role of aestheticism. and part of how videogames and the wider tech industry as a whole present themselves as modern is by repeating these calls, by drawing an implicit line between heroic activity and passive compliance. the aesthetic is imagined as "internal", as individual in the bad sense - a neutralised and murky inner world. whereas what we picture as non-aesthetic is what brings the individual out of herself, into some new socially legible role. the heroic user vs the lotus eating experiencer…! and as a figure out of time the aesthetic subject is lumped in with the other recalcitrant bogeys of tech - luddites, luddism as "a way to call those with whom they disagree both politically reactionary and anti-capitalist at the same time". but it's hard not to feel the luddites got a bad rep these days, and hard to feel like the kinds of participation allowed in a ringfenced public culture are not if anything even more disspiriting than the most "passive" text. one of the most striking features of the new-new-media, forms of new media more fully adapted to the role new media has as a kind of speculation bubble, is their near total lack of aesthetic interest. it almost feels crankish and petty to say these things (nfts, ai art, various metaverses) are boring and ugly - but that's kind of the point, right? the contempt for mere aesthetics is the sign that what these things are selling is the sense of their own inevitability, an inevitability that requires no consent from the people it's enforced upon. aesthetics themselves don't matter… but of course they do, right? how can they not matter?

videogames, as a weak form, have never really been able to jettison the need to appeal to the senses. their most cherished distinction, between "aesthetics" understood as meaning visuals and sound and the "non-aesthetic" of all the other gamey parts that they encompass, falls apart for me the more i think about it: are the pleasures of solving a puzzle, executing a combo, traversing an area really of a different nature to those of reading a text, following a piece of music or investigating a visual plane? to say reading prose is not a tentative, active, problem solving kind of task is just to say you're bad at it. and there's a sense that the odd blockedness, deadness of videogames as a format is itself aesthetic.. i think of the old adorno line that the aesthetic itself is always the extra-aesthetic, that which threatens to overflow the category of the aesthetic and transform life itself. so maybe the aesthetic is always experienced as a kind of provocative failure or stubbornness, a blockage, in contrast to the greased slide to a future no-one really wants or believes in.

so what does it mean to be interested in making games mostly as an aesthetic activity. right now the "game making scene" feels as fragmented and directionless as i've ever seen it - whatever infrastructure is still there now exists to provide networking or marketing opportunities to professionals, themselves ever more protective of their specialised domains and with ever less patience for any merely aesthetic actes gratuits that might gum up the pipes. the people i know still making weird shit seem increasingly cut off, working just for themselves and some friends, and maybe they're happier, i dunno. to me there's something melancholy about this condition of narrowed possibility - the difficulty of bouncing new ideas back and forth to one another, when everyone's constrained to their own holes and all the space in between is filled with advertisements. but as well as that, it can feel like it's hardly worthwhile even trying to rebuild those networks to begin with if it's just going to get us back to where we were. the same spurious claims to importance or social good or "what we need right now", same sleazy power dynamics, maybe a different handful of guys getting a career out if it this time.

and so i keep coming back to the stuckness, the nothingness of aesthetic work, of work that can't be evaluated in terms of historical importance or evolution or journeyman best practice, existing as nothing but sensibility, at a point where sensibility itself is treated as a kind of uncanny and functionless surplus that weighs upon the living. the golden coin that can never be spent, visible only through its absence in the ledger. we test it in the mouth, thought is made in the mouth, we chew, not knowing why, yet. as the guy says in the thing: why don't we just stick around for a while, and see what happens.