#I was only in those circles because I thought the mere concept of it was hilarious. And it is it really is

[cowchickenbeefpork]

if you want to meet people online who feel like god spun a wheel when making them just hang out in trans sexology spaces. You will not dissapointed

[baldval]

Since you made one for Valentine’s Day, how bout celebrating Halloween with the main hazbin cast? Maybe Charlie is throwing a Halloween party or something!

HALLOWEEN W HAZBIN! ₊˚⊹♡

characters: vox, charlie, valentino, lucifer, alastor

warnings: nothing :)

a/n: idk if i like alastor's part, he's just so hard to write imo😭😭 pls tell me what you think guys🤞

VOX:

꩜ it’s obvious to anyone that vox looooves halloween. 

꩜ he’s claimed to you on several occasions that it’s his favorite holiday.

꩜ and that getting the chance to spend it with you only makes it better. 

꩜ and how does vox spend Halloween? two words.

꩜ haunted house. 

꩜ you never really understood the concept of having those on hell.

꩜ hell is already scary as it is.

꩜ however, being an overlord, having the control that vox has, eliminates some of the fear most people normally feel.

꩜ so a haunted house is his favourite place to go when he wants to feel some of that adrenaline.

꩜ he picked you up that night and away you went, ready to get your scare-factor on. 

꩜ darling, if you get scared, just let me know!” he pointed to himself with a grin "i'll stop the whole thing, i swear".

꩜ “afterall, I wouldn’t be much of a man if I can’t protect the person I care about most.” he smiles at you and you can't help blushing.

꩜ you stuck to him like glue, laughing and screaming through every house you went through.

꩜ it was well into the night before you both decided to call it.

꩜ your throats raw and blood pumping from the adrenaline.

꩜ but even in your stupor, vox still managed to take your breath away once he brought you back to your apartment.

꩜ his arms circled around you as he kisses your face.

꩜ you bury your face in his neck as you hug him goodbye.

CHARLIE:

꩜ as far as charlie is concerned, you can’t celebrate Halloween without a good time.

꩜ and to her, the best way to do that is with a party!

꩜ she throws one once every year at the hotel, because, how could she not?

꩜ “you’ll come right? you have to! pleeeease!”

꩜ she’s so adorably persistent, eyes all puppy dog wide and hands folded.

꩜ your answer is obvious.

꩜ and it had her jumping up and down throughout the whole lobby.

꩜ upon arriving at the hotel, you were completely in awe of the change of scenery.

꩜ what once had a reddish vintage look now practically screamed 'halloween'.

꩜ costumes, decorations, snacks, bowls filled with candy, games, music.

꩜ you knew your girlfriend sure took things to the extreme, but nonetheless, it was always fun.

VALENTINO:

꩜ valentino loves halloween.

꩜ you could say he likes it for the aesthetic and you would be right.

꩜ he'd invite you over that night to spend the evening with him.

꩜ you thought maybe you were gonna go to a halloween party, somewhere filled with decorations and people.

꩜ but when you get to his house you only see a mountain of scary and halloween themed movies piled high on the coffee table in his living room.

꩜ along with a bowl of popcorn, soda, and a selection of only your favourite candies of course.

꩜ “are we… gonna watch all of these?”

꩜ "well duh. why? you got something else to do?”

꩜ unexpected, indeed, but who would complain?

꩜ it was hard to pick which movie to watch first since he had such an extensive collection, but you both decided to kick things off with the classic 'the nightmare before christmas'. 

꩜ after that, 'carrie', 'scream', 'anabelle', 'halloween' too of course.

꩜ name it, and valentino had it. 

꩜ you sat on the sofa between his legs the entire time, bowl of popcorn in your lap, and you silently fed him pieces of the salty snack while he unwrapped and fed you bits of candy. 

꩜ it was the perfect way to spend halloween and you wished you could have gone at it all night.

꩜ but after the 7th film, you had promptly knocked out against val’s chest, popcorn bowl empty.

꩜ but instead of waking you up, he merely shut off the tv and covered both your bodies with a blanket, kissing your forehead.

LUCIFER:

꩜ you're getting ready as you anxiously wait for the king of hell.

꩜ the hotel was organising a halloween party, and of course you couldn't miss it.

꩜ and of course you were going with lucifer.

꩜ you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mingled with nerves.

꩜ just as you were beginning to think he might not show, you heard a knock at the door.

꩜ with a mischievous grin, he strutted over to you.

꩜ "sorry for the delay, darling," he said, offering you his hand. "hope you didn't wait too long."

꩜ you accepted his hand, feeling a thrill run down your spine as his fingers intertwined with yours.

꩜ "not at all," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies in your stomach.

꩜ together, you walked in to the lobby, greeted by the lively sounds of the halloween party in full swing.

꩜ you were sitting at the bar, just chatting.

꩜ "i have to go to the bathroom, i'll be right back" he says with a wink as he leaves.

꩜ "hmm so he really is in love with you" you hear husk, the bartender, say.

꩜ "oh so you've doubted that?"

꩜ "not really, it's just that it's the first time i see it in live action".

꩜ "what do you mean?" you question him.

꩜ "i mean, do you see the way he stares at you as you talk." he fills up a glass. "pure adoration."

꩜ you feel heat creeping up your cheeks and turn around before husk realises how flushed you are.

꩜ lucifer gets back and it isn't long before you find yourselves in the ballroom.

꩜ with a twirl, he pulls you into his arms, and the two of you began to dance to the infectious beat of the music.

꩜ as you moved together, laughter bubbled up between you, your clothes swishing in tune with the music.

꩜ "you know," he says, his voice low as he spun you around, "there's nothing i would want more in the world that being with you."

꩜ you couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth spreading through you.

꩜ "well i can assure you it goes both ways." you replied, caught up in the moment as you gazed into his eyes.

ALASTOR:

꩜ it does surprise you that the radio demon has no idea what halloween is.

꩜ he comes up to you and asks you why the whole lobby is filled with pumpkins and little paper ghosts and black and orange streamers.

꩜ you simply smile and say, “it’s halloween!”

꩜ “oh…”

꩜ it’s not that he didn’t know what hallowen was, he explained to you.

꩜ he just wasn’t really aware of what occurred during the holiday itself.

꩜ so you decided it was time to change that. 

꩜ you told him to meet you at your room, not giving him any more details than that.

꩜ when he arrived, you took him by the hand and led him towards one of the best places you could possibly think of to give him a proper introduction to the spookiest night of the year. 

꩜ the pumpkin patch. 

꩜ upon arriving, alastor seemed absolutely awestruck at all the different things there were to do.

꩜ the corn maze, hayride, petting zoo (to which you found out that alastor is a major softie for animals).

꩜ and of course, pumpkin carving.

꩜ it was so cute watching his expressions.

꩜ how his brow would furrow when he tried removing the guts and how his tongue would poke out when he began working on the face.

꩜ you almost forgot you had your own pumpkin to carve. 

꩜ you both left in the later evening, hand in hand as the stars twinkled above you. 

꩜ “so what did you think? did you have fun?”

꩜ you were expecting a nod, or a quick little hum. 

꩜ but he straight whisked you off your feet and into his arms.

꩜ and you knew that right now, the smile on his face was truly genuine.

[owlespresso]

Qifrey is kind and soft-spoken and absolutely beautiful. These are the three things you learn in the time it takes to walk from the market, to Beldaruit’s quiet garden. It’s overwhelming. You’ve never been so stricken by the mere sight of another human being, before. It’s difficult to the point where you can’t even make small-talk, bereft of words in the face of your trembling awe.

Despite how suddenly interested you are in Beldaruit’s mysterious former apprentice, you clam up whenever you look at him.

Which is frustrating. This is one witch you actually care about making a good impression on, and you can’t manage it.

“I’m glad to be working with you,” he says over a teatime ensemble. Delicate floral pastries and porcelain teacups sit on the table between you. Beyond the seating area, the vivid greens and floral rainbows of the garden are in full bloom. The ground is littered with smoky purple petals from the fruiting tree at its center, dense canopy shielding you from the artificial sun. “I was worried when Beldaruit told me I would be collaborating with another witch at the Great Hall. I do my best to get along with everyone, but… there are so many people here I just can’t abide by.” He says sheepishly, idly circling the rim of his cup with a fingertip.

“I read your work on the principles of light,” he says, melodious voice which fills the space between you. Makes you feel shivery beneath your skin. “I never knew it could be utilized in so many different ways–much less that it’s deserving of its own discipline!”

“People associate light with warmth and because of that, fire. They aren’t wrong, really. They just don’t know that light is its own…. thing,” you finish, waving your hand dismissively. “Even I struggle to understand it completely.”

“But you’re much further than anyone else. That in itself is what counts,” Qifrey chimes, chin nestling onto his interlaced fingers. His wrists are so thin. You drink in the visible lines of his body with as much grace as you can, mindful of your staring. “The lenses you made–the ones that make heat visible–could have so many uses going forward. How did you discover it?”

Settling into the cadence of academic discussion is much easier than getting personal, so you’re relieved. It’s much simpler to ignore the erratic thrumming of your heart and the cloying hunger settled in your stomach when you bury your head in the prismatic depths of your life’s work.

You gesticulate rapidly with your hands as you speak, fingers itching to grab a pen. Had you known you would be expositing to him, you would have brought your notes–

And it's strange, really. All it takes to put a wrench in your gears is a look up at his face. His delicate lips have upturned into a fond smile, face softened by the upturning of his eyes.

Beams of false sunlight peeking through combs of wisteria and willow, casting him in an ethereal, cottony-soft glow. Like the dreamy strokes of an oil painting. You swallow. Your stomach churns. Something is changing inside of you–already has changed.

“Beldaruit also tells me that you have no interest in teaching. It’s a shame. I think you would make a fine professor.” Qifrey says, forced to fill the silence once more.

Something is wrong with you, you think with muted horror, only half-paying attention.

“Really?” is all you can choke out, quiet and empty.

“You explained your concepts so clearly,” he elaborates. “If a layman such as myself can understand, you’re doing something right.”

You scoff, unable to help yourself. “You’re no layman. Every witch has a fundamental understanding of the elemental table.”

“You’re not building from those tried and true foundations,” Qifrey begins with a thoughtful hum. He lifts his cup. The pale cream of his lips presses to the gold rim. You inhale, pupils fattening, ravenous gaze roaming from the gentle bow of his lips to the bend of his wrist. You could wrap your fingers around it entirely, you think, almost delirious. Maybe even around part of his forearm. How strong is he? Could you get him on the ground? Plant him face-first into the dirt, spread him beneath you, flushed and pink and ripe for the taking?

You shut your eyes. Something is deeply. Deeply wrong with you.

“Your work could redefine the field entirely,” Qifrey insists, impassioned enough to surprise you. You’re not the type to become bashful in the face of praise, but the consolidated force of his open admiration has your tongue twisted up in your mouth. He has such an effect on you. You very nearly believe him. 

“By the way, is the tea not to your liking?” he inquires, perfect picture of genuine concern, eyebrows threading together beneath his frosty fringe.

Your glance over the tea set. The taste of Earl Grey pricks at the bottom of your throat, a bitter point in your memory.

“I’m more of a coffee person. That’s all,” you reply before the nausea can well up. Qifrey clicks his tongue.

“And I bet Beldaruit didn’t even inquire as to your preferences,” Qifrey sighs, bemoaning. “That man never changes, I swear…” 

You catch onto this moment keenly. It’s his first show of irritation. Over something so minor, too.

“It’s fine. It was my master’s favorite, so he probably assumed…” you trail off.

Qifrey looks at you, then, with an expression you could best describe as searching. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. Something at an instinctual level rears its head up in silent acknowledgement. He’s evaluating you differently than he has this entire time. You feel, in an instant, like you have been irrevocably seen.

Or, perhaps this is just another manifestation of your latent paranoia.

“Well,” he smiles again, just a touch bitter. “They should have asked you first, anyways,” and then, in a lighter tone–”I’ll issue him a due reminder the next time I see him. How about we start on the lecture outline in the meantime?”

[classyblen]

Helloww !

Title: The Ghost Protocol: A classy's Guide to Uncovering True Loyalty

🌹 𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚂𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚜! 🌹

--Today, I want to delve into a concept that might seem a bit unconventional but holds profound meaning in our rapidly changing world: ghosting. Not in the petty or immature way we often hear about, but rather as a thoughtful strategy to discern true friends from mere acquaintances.

Yeah, you heard me right. I ghost everyone even my closest friends. Why? Because truth doesn't come served on a silver platter; it often hides behind the shadows, waiting for the moment to reveal itself.

🚦The Master Plan:

Picture this: I turn off my phone, and the notifications go silent. No texts, no DMs, no Facetime calls just me, myself, and the echo of my own thoughts. I sit in my cozy space, sipping on my favorite drink, and I wait. It’s a test of loyalty, of love, and most importantly, of authenticity. Whose footsteps will I hear approaching my door? Who’s going to care enough to check on me when I turn the lights off?

📍Why This Method?

In a world where everyone is glued to their screens, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by the noise. Social media showcases a facade everyone’s living their best lives, but how many are genuinely there for you when the glam fades? Ghosting gives me clarity. It shrouds my connections in mystery and separates the ride-or-die friends from the mere acquaintances.

When you remove yourself from the chatter, you allow the genuine souls to shine.

Real friends will be the ones who not only notice your absence but actively seek you out.🥀 They’re the ones who won’t hesitate to knock on that door, even if it’s a bit of a trek. And let’s be honest, those who don’t show up? Well, babe, it’s time to reconsider their place in your life.

🪴❤️ But Wait, Why Is This Classy AF?

Listen, this isn’t just about testing friendship; it’s about self-discovery too. In these moments of solitude, I can reflect on what I want, who I am, and what kind of energy I’m bringing into my life. It's empowering to take that step back and evaluate my circle, to cleanse my energy of backstabbers and fair-weather friends. By ghosting, I reclaim my time and my peace. 🌷

The Beautiful Part:✨

When the doorbell finally rings, and I see the faces of those who genuinely care, it’s magic. It’s a reminder of the beauty of human connection, and it reinforces the bonds that matter. Those moments of reconnection are pure gold, reminding me that I am loved, cherished, and seen for who I truly am.I urge you to consider this approach in your own life. Take a break from the constant connectivity and allow yourself to observe with intention. You might just be surprised by who cares enough to seek you out.

💬 Join the Conversation!💋

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.

Have you ever tried ghosting to test your friendships?

What were your experiences like?

💌write below and let’s connect!

And if you enjoy this kind of content, don’t forget to follow me for more insights into navigating friendships and meaningful relationships.

So here’s your challenge, lovely souls: Ghost for a bit and see who comes looking for you. Let the knocks at your door reveal the truth. Because in the end, life’s too short to be surrounded by those who don’t value your energy.

I LOVE YOU ALL!!🎀

[natequarter]

Classic seasons 17-18 and nu season 3?

season 17

destiny of the daleks: boring. another fucking dalek serial, and it's not even a good one. every worst impulse of terry nation in one serial. its only real virtues are an excellent doctor/companion dynamic and douglas adams as script editor. 4/10

city of death: one of the all time greats of doctor who. exactly as funny as it is renowned for being. my only regret about this story is that none of the rest of season 17 is nearly as good. 10/10

the creature from the pit: i really like this story! it's a parody of science fiction tropes - it's called the creature from the pit because it sets up the predictable scifi premise of "oooooo, there's a Scary Alien inside the Evil Pit and the illiterate peasants are going to feed the doctor to it!" then it ruthlessly mocks all that - erato is actually an alien ambassador who got waylaid by adrasta, who is not an idiot but merely a jerk. of course the creature isn't actually from the pit - that's the whole point. it's also a quote a minute, the quippiest story since... city of death. david fisher really likes to ruthlessly mock precious eras, doesn't he? (see: the stones of blood, a parody of the hinchcliffe era.) probably the oddest part about this story is that lalla ward is clearly doing her best mary tamm impression, but then this was her first outing as romana. 7/10

nightmare of eden: a similar concept to carnival of monsters, but somehow even worse. go back to school, bob, since you clearly don't understand anything about drugs. 3/10

the horns of nimon: pure campy fun. some of the silliest acting in doctor who history. did you know the guy who played soldeed turned down the part of the fourth doctor? 6/10

shada: my first classic who story. i don't think it's the lost classic everyone seems to describe it as, and it's certainly the weakest of adams' stories (which is not an insult; the pirate planet and city if death are simply very, very good). but it's definitely enjoyable. suffers mainly from "should've been a four-parter" syndrome; adams has jokes to crack, but he doesn't have that many jokes. 7/10

season 18

the leisure hive: it's not the best story ever, but i actually quite enjoy it. it's good some really WEIRD scifi concepts going on, and it plays around with the doctor's ability to drive in a far more interesting way than, like, literally any serial previously. he gets aged up! ENTROPY! 6/10

meglos: the goddamn scientists vs priests plot is insufferable, and it's basically a silly runaround, but it's so bonkers that i can't help but enjoy it. again, there's more of an engagement with the metatextual elements of the doctor - the doctor has actually Been Here before; the villain traps him in a time loop and masquerades as him to gain people's trust; also, the villain is a cactus. and the last of his species. ENTROPY, and BONKERS. i love it. 6/10

full circle: you know me. i love weird alien companions. i love the fourth doctor. i love entropy. this is the serial where season 18 fully comes into its own, with some really well-thought-out rumination on history, and evolution, and ENTROPY. plus adric almost works here. its only weakness is sidelining the hell out of romana; tom baker is at his best here, with some genuinely rousing performances. this is one of my favourite serials for the fourth doctor specifically for a reason. 8/10

state of decay: the hinchcliffe years did hinchcliffe stories, some of which were by terrance dicks, and those were fairly conventional horror stories. the williams years also did hinchcliffe stories; those varied between conventional executions of the hinchcliffe/holmes format, some of which were by terrance dicks, and david fisher's overtly parodical version of the hinchcliffe/holmes hammer horror (that's a lot of alliteration) in the stones of blood. this, therefore, is the jnt/bidmead answer to what a hinchcliffe/holmes story could look like (bear in mind it was a script that had been held back for a few years). and it works! it's got more of the preoccupation with science, history, and ENTROPY (plus a flash in the pan of time lord history; that crops up in the three serials before state of decay as well, with the time lords as a looming higher power which call upon romana) than previous eras, but it retains the creeping horror of VAMPIRES. also, deeply shippy. you! are! wonderful! 8/10

warriors' gate: ENTROPY. this ought to be considered an all-time great, up there with city of death. it's of the same school of thought as enlightenment or ghost light: no, it doesn't strictly make sense, but it's not a story about logic (stories about logic in doctor who tend to fail). the visuals are gorgeous; the skeletal warriors' hall is maybe one of my favourite sets ever. it's a story preoccupied with its own themes: compassion, commodification, history again, the rise and fall of empires, presents as wretched as the past. the future is the only way on. romana's actual departure is rubbish, but the setup for it is perfect. here, as with in the chase earlier and hell bent later, we see a very rare thing: the protagonist of the show kindly hands it back to the doctor. goodbye, romana who; it's time to get back to the main universe. romana is most definitely the protagonist here, and has graciously handed the reins back to the doctor. the doctor is aging in this series; his death is as inevitable as it was in the tenth planet, not because of the villain, but because he's getting old (see: the leisure hive), and his body's wearing thin. he can't keep up with the youth - with romana. sooner or later, it's going to be someone else's turn. also he got divorced and kept the teenager. RIP. 10/10

the keeper of traken: not as beloved to me as the e-space trilogy, but adric actually does work here, and i really do love his dynamic with four. he's more of the artful dodger character he was conceived of, and in an alternate universe without tegan and five (not a knock on them btw) i can imagine his character working quite well with nyssa and four. fortunately (another season of four would be nightmarish), it was not to be. the story is quite good, but feels a bit dry; it does not compel me. however, we gotta love the ENTROPY. likewise geoffrey beevers is stellar as the master; the character, for the first and last time in a while, works brilliantly. 7/10

logopolis: i love it too much to use words. deeply strange. rarely has a season been so thoroughly drenched in its own themes before; frankly i don't think classic who gets anywhere near rivalling the consistent thematic preoccupations on display here until seasons 25/26. ENTROPY at it again. rip four, you were a strange one. considering where he started (robot) and what he went through (the brain of morbus, city of death, warriors' gate, to do a whistle-stop tour of genre and style that is actually worth watching), logopolis is a damn strange story for tom baker to go out on. but go out he does. thank god. this is the end of one of my favourite doctors and favourite series, but the show has the common sense to look forwards, not backwards. rubbish last line for him, btw, but oh well. 9/10

series 3

the runaway bride: lots of fun. catherine tate kills it out of the gate. ten/donna is a fantastic dynamic; glad we got more of them. not much to say except that it's very good. 8/10

smith and jones: MARTHA! this is a mostly alright episode in terms of actual plot, but it's a tour de force in companion introduction, which rtd is excellent at. the whole thing is carried out very well on a technical level. 8/10

the shakespeare code: written by gareth roberts. this complicates things. it has some fun ideas, but hoo boy has it aged poorly. it's enjoyable, but there's always that but. 6/10

gridlock: i love this one. brings back the macra. lesbians. catboys. this is the stuff i live for. 7/10

daleks in manhattan/evolution of the daleks: another fucking dalek story. i think the individual elements and characters of this story are actually quite good, but... man. daleks again? daleks? again? 6/10

the lazarus experiment: weird and a little bit creepy. sets up some of the finale nicely, which is not actually a strength, because the finale sucks. been a while since i watched it, though. 6?/10

42: so it turns out there are exactly two chibnall-penned stories in all of doctor who that i like. this is one of them. lots of great ideas. the stakes are high. david tennant screams in pain. 7/10

human nature/the family of blood: objectively very well written. uncomfortably racist in its treatment of martha. i don't know how to categorise this one, exactly. but on a purely technical level? 8/10

blink: pure moffat weirdness. technically brilliant from start to finish. a classic for a reason. 10/10

utopia: just brilliant. great dynamics, great payoff to jack's... agonies. the yana plotline is superb. really the only thing letting it down is that it's setup for the finale. an all-time great piece of television, if you just ignore what comes next. 10/10

the sound of drums/the last of the time lords: like so many other rtd finales, a bizarre mix of great ideas, superb emotional moments, and terrible, terrible handling. the master is a good villain, if you ignore that he's supposed to be the same guy roger delgado played. "the doctor becomes jesus" is not a problem from a pure who standpoint; the show does this all the time. it is, however, david tennant, and more than that it frankly detracts from martha's agency and importance, so... nah. do not like it. 5/10

(link)

[arikihalloween]

why do you follow artsy bug back on tiktok I thought you didnt support problematic and disgusting pppl

Did you check my following on tiktok and then came back here to specifically ask me about this ? That's kinda weird /lh

I saw that Bug made a return with new boundaries, and clear indications that they've learned from their mistakes and is trying to to better

So I followed again to see the developpement

But also, it seems you didn't follow what has been going on and the new infos on that specific situation

For one, it has been proven J and Bug merely enabled K's behavior, and most of the instances were situational and due mostly from a lack of boundary from what I've seen

There was no ill intent whatsoever and things were taken too far out of personal bias against all the creators involved (including K)

So as far as I know

J and B didn't groom, they made a mistake which was to enable a 17yo who approached them with nsfw (it was mostly Java btw, Bug was barely in those vocals to begin with)

Mind you, all the parties involved were like, 17, 18 and 19, which is still in the middle zone of teen and adult and as such, they'll make immature mistakes (you don't received the world's wisdom upon reaching 18 yk)

It's hypocritical to hold them to an impossible standard and try to keep the water muddy about what really happened by reducing them to "unredeemable disgusting problematic people"

And what really happened, again, was two immature young adults with a minor in their friend circle, being approached by said minor with nsfw, and failing to keep their boundaries clear

And they got called out. And made the right moves. Which was to apologize, cut contact with the minor, and improve themselves so the mistake won't happen again.

I'll still hold both Bug and Java accountable for their mistakes, I still don't follow Java and only refollowed Bug on tiktok to see their evolution, because Bug took visible actions to change and second chances are a thing, you know ? If Bug does something problematic again, I'll unfollow and probably block.

If musicboxtune has been allowed a second chance from people after being called out for trying to talk nsfw on call while actual children were present, being a shitty person, stealing ideas and forcing people to nsfw rp with them, why can't Bug be given a second chance after a bad joke and accidentally enabling someone they thought would turn 18 a month or two later ?

Bug showed improvements, I want to see if they'll keep those improvements.

Now typing this all out, I realise it's the first time I voice all my thoughts on the matter publicly

From day 1, from the first doc by Exposer, I felt something was off. The screenshots are weirdly cropped and there was only claims about the vocals. And as the situation unfold, it became abundantly clear that what actually happened wasn't important

It all felt like a weird power play, trying to ruin someone's reputation to rise by stepping on the crumbles

As soon as someone would get called out, I'd see 3-4 replies about people saying they'd take the ocs/AUs or advertising their own version of a concept

Right of the top of my head I can think of 5-6 people who stole either Java's or Bug's OCs

Not just AUs, OCs.

Do yall even realise that after all of this, Java and Bug have leverage to sue a whole bunch of people for cyberharassement, defamation and plagiat ? Yall realise ocs fall under original content and thus copyright, don't you ?

The enabling of nsfw, with the proofs that are out now, would mostly rule in their favor imo, because K is shown lying about their age a few times, deflecting blame and even said themselves that they were enabled, not groomed

Speaking of K, don't get me wrong, I'm worried about them. From day 1 it was clear there was someone else influencing them, which wasn't J and B. There had to be someone that brought up the "grooming" idea and K went along with it. There had to be other people K showed the nsfw too, other adults who likely also enabled, possibly intentionally contrary to J and B

Hell, just last week, there was a whole drama on twitter during which it was found out that an ADULT 'friend' of K IMPERSONATED them and made a NSFW ACCOUNT to "GET CLOSER TO K"

Like, fr protect this kiddo ?? After everything that happened how the fuck did people not notice this kinda behavior around K right away ??

And this person wasn't Java, nor Bug.

Now that I'm at it rambling, doesn't it feel so easy to blame Java and Bug ? They were and probably still are popular artists, it's easy to talk about fame and power dynamic (even if on the internet it doesn't actually mean much especially on a scale like this case bfr)

Everyone scrambled to try to claim Java and Bug's ocs right after they got called out. People have been waiting for this. Java had already been in a drama the year before at this point and there was still clear resentment leftover from then.

I'm not saying it was all planned out, it feels absurd to believe this was all a conspiracy to get rid of some popular artists

What I am saying tho, is that it was easy to blame the two popular artists who already had resentment about them, and then muddy the water to hide the involvement of many in the situation

How come we never held accountable the other adults present in that same server who were also on call with Java and K ? They could've also said something to stop the enabling

How come we don't know who K sent nsfw to, aside from J ? How come aren't all of the people who followed that nsfw account held accountable either ?

I disgress sorry

I hope that gave some food for thoughts for you anon tho

As a last note, thank you for asking me about this /gen

Although a dm would've been preferable, I supposed you prefer your anonymity which is fine ig

If I follow someone really problematic, I prefer to be told and shown proof, and I'll unfollow (or block)

I got nothing to hide, hence why I'm not trynna sugarcoat my thoughts on the whole thing

I made my own choice on this matter with the various doc that have been made available

If you want to stop supporting me and my work, that's your choice

Have a good day/morning/afternoon/evening/night

[mahayanapilgrim]

FOLLOWING INSTINCTS

The Vajrayana is very much based on mind, and therefore feelings and inclinations are important. If you have an uncontrollable urge to follow someone, it may be a continuation of a certain guru-student relationship you had in your past lives. In the case of following your intuition, conventional ways of assessing the guru are not necessary.

When Milarepa first laid eyes on Marpa, Marpa was plowing a muddy field of barley in a cold wind. It was all rocks and slush - nothing remotely resembling the brocade, incense, and parasols we so often associate with gurus these days. But upon encountering this man, Milarepa was so moved that he felt a bodily sensation. It's believed that Marpa stopped working, surveyed Milarepa from head to toe, and then asked him to finish plowing the rest of the field. He also offered him a little wine.

And there began the great Kagyu lineage, which went into the ears and minds of some of the greatest kings, queens, and emperors this world has ever hosted, including those of the Qing dynasty.

This relationship could not have arisen merely because of Milarepa's mundane aspiration for a dharmic connection.

There must have been a residue of a long-existing karmic link between those two.

Even some of my own students, who I sometimes refer to as my "victims," have approached me without much sober assessment.

After a long search for a spiritual path, Mr. Watson from Australia ended up with me after having some significant dreams. He woke up instantly trusting me. Ms. Coelln from New York City says she knew she had a connection with me when she first laid eyes on my feet in 1996. She thought I was wearing Japanese tabi socks, and this alone made her decide that I was her guru, so she started attending my teachings.

Mr. Peters reckons I became his Vajrayana master because, after his countless supplications for teachings, I finally gave him instructions in the men's toilet at Denver International Airport, just before I flew away.

Mr. Peters had always been awed by brocades and thrones, but somehow the gentlemen's toilet at the airport did the trick. Another one of my student-victims, Stephanie, claims that upon hearing my theory that Van Gogh could have achieved enlightenment if he had the right view, she knew I was her teacher. She says it was as if she were hearing things for the very tirst time, and that was the beginning of our relationship.

So we are led by our emotions. But if possible, this is where modern Dharma students should be careful. The devil's advocate "head" must be invited to rein in the touchy-feely "heart."

If someone truly inspires you, this is good, but to be a vajra master, he or she must have the skill and method to crack open your cocoon. If someone can do this, no matter how seemingly undistinguished he or she may be, this person is your master.

It could be a khenpo with no rank at all.

Appearances mean very little here. I admire those who follow Alak Zenkar Rinpoche. He looks like a hot-bun vendor on a street in China, but appearance is definitely a deception in his case. When it comes to dedication and contribution to the Buddhadharma, especially within the

within the Tibetan lineages, he surpasses anyone with colorful robes and gigantic names.

Within my own circle of groupies, there are a few old fogies whose first encounter of me was when I was hanging around in the cheap pubs of London, wearing jeans and a T-shirt — hardly looking like a Tibetan lama. Somehow they became Vajrayana students. Today when I see them, it's encouraging because it confirms the Buddhist concept of karmic debt. Their approach to me as a Vajrayana teacher did not begin with all the usual props and sound effects.

So it's absolutely understandable when people are taken when they meet someone like Surya Das, who looks 110 percent Jewish, with his overgrown beard and oversize belly. His presence and his speech, and his very pushy being, inspires them. Not only inspires but unravels their cocoons and prevents them from going astray.

Our normal, rational assessment does not always need to take precedent. This person who can wake you up becomes what we call

"guru with the three unsurpassable kindnesses." Even if the guru doesn't teach with moving lips, he can be your master. It's very individual. In this way, you can even get the nature of the mind transmission from someone like David Noodle.

The Guru Drinks Bourbon?

Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse

[reneilysteria]

Have you ever had a feeling where you wanted to say something, but took you seconds to compose on what to say?

The feeling where you're not sure what to share, thinking it would be inappropriate for the person you're talking to, unless you're well-prepared on what to say, as if it's curated for that person specifically.

It's difficult, especially with strange intrusive thoughts urging you to say this or that for the sake of reaction. And I, as a writer (and a normal human being), become uncomfortable with all those unnecessary thoughts until I make up my mind.

Metaphorically speaking, you could say it's like a bullet train going in circles and you're trying to catch it, merely grazing your fingers in an attempt to stop it. Simply put, your eyes are going around trying to dig through your memories on what concept or topic is best worth talking about.

It takes a lot of effort to find words as well, knowing that your vocabulary tests the limits of your mind on how far you can remember it and what it means as well. But if a miracle has it, maybe you'd create a word on the spot like "grandiose", which for some reason, is one of my favorite words that popped up in my head from one of my poems (that I may post soon, hehe).

Being creative has no limits, true, but it's only oppressed because of the brain's limitations. That's why there's this saying where you "can't make your character smarter than you". You can get creative in how they should go, but not their thought process. Now we know why some horror movie characters are dumb. /j

But there's no shame if you get clogged with your brain in thinking about what's the best subject to share, because sometimes, even a stage speaker has to brainstorm what's appropriate for his/her audience. If you do encounter it, especially in everyday conversations, perhaps a greeting can help! Or if you know that it's the topic you want to share, but are not sure what words to say...

Just go with "You know the..." Let them give you an idea.

[tingglywords]

When they think of love, some people say its a feeling. An attachment to another person. Some say it's commitment. Others, a mere desire. After all, humans are known to be social creatures.

But for me, I think my concept of love is rather… strange. Maybe even delusional.

At the age where I am supposed to be in a romantic sense, where I find another to do what love makes us do.

And yet here I am, pondering what love truly is. I believe that they say love is a complicated yet very important feeling for a person. In a general sense of mine, I think love is vulnerability; allowing yourself to indulge such a feeling that you only show to your partner. That in return they'll love you for who you are. Showing in many ways than the three simple words. The feeling of warmth pressed against your body for comfort and protection.

And yet, why am I so afraid of it?

What's so scary when all I have to do is let them accept me? What keeps me from finding a partner?

Maybe it's because of the fear of losing someone. Or maybe the fear of vulnerability. Or worse, being stabbed at the back.

Maybe it's the little me who watched– who witnessed two people fighting over where the one thought they loved them dearly. But they were wrong. Maybe it's the betrayal she saw one morning that left her scarred. Maybe it's the way she wondered why they stopped loving them or even if they ever loved them at all. Maybe she thought too hard to the point where she didn't believe if there's any love to exist in the first place.

She was too young to understand all of it. At a young age, I kept thinking and thinking; I tried to fit in their shoes and walk a million miles just to know why they picked that choice. When I grew up, the concept of love altered my perspective. I forced myself to think like an adult.

There was one time where I felt it. Turns out I was wrong. The fast heartbeats I thought was love is actually fear. The cold hands where they held me were actually nervous. The kisses placed onto me felt like daggers piercing me. And where the arms that wrapped around me felt like cages that's trapping me.

The phrase “I love you” is much more meaningful than they thought it would be. Using those three words very loosely like a breeze while I can't say it even just a whisper. When that sentence rings in my ear it felt wrong, it felt a jab in the heart that it hurts too much to hear. To actually say it fully from the deep of my heart feels like it is also wrong. I can't say it loosely like others do unless you feel like you mean it. But I find it hard to say it from my mouth because I didn't find any meaning to say it from the start. Where they do it simple but for me feels like a daunting task.

I don't like the feeling of it. I don't truly understand why I feel different from others. It should be the same for everybody and yet I'm here– pondering at the dead of the night just because I have a different take on the feeling that everybody experienced.

Then why do I crave it? Why do I desire the thing that I'm scared of? What's so important to want the things that others have and yet not for me?

People want it and need it. But I want it but don't need it.

All of it circles and contradicts my points and it's frustrating me. Even my friend told me that I was not a romantic person. I kept stumbling between the two to where I actually feel I belong.

Maybe I'm not meant to be loved romantically. Maybe they are wrong that there's a person when you at least expect it. Because when I do, I can feel the fears creeping up on me again.

Will I ever find it? Or do I just give up on it?

[steveskafte]

THE MARGINS CAGE Being a writer has nothing to do with writing. Literacy is merely a tool in aid of communication, a way to get our thoughts down on paper so that they can be read at a distance defined by time or space. Even writing for ourselves (like in a private diary), is merely an extension of memory. Scribbling down a series of otherwise meaningless marks that we've given meaning, so we can save ourselves from forgetting the information that they represent. For most of human history, the people we now call "writers" never physically wrote anything at all. That included teachers, historians, poets, comedians, singers, storytellers, and playwrights. All of their communication was oral, and all of their words were memorized. Later on, in the early years of the printing press, it was often lamented by intellectuals that upcoming generations would falter in their social interactions – because they would come to rely too heavily on reading and writing. Now, we've come full circle to find some looking down on those who prefer to speak and listen over reading from a page. They might claim that those who prefer audio books aren't "really reading", forgetting that the information conveyed contains the only true value that words are capable of having. Once again, it's important to note that whether written or spoken – words are merely representations of thoughts. They are not the thoughts themselves. I always struggled to remain interested in reading as a child, trying to keep my imagination active enough to see past the inherent dullness of black text on white pages. This was a strange experience for someone who felt like their mind was constantly crowded with thoughts and emotions in need of escape. I was too shy for conversation, but too easily distracted for extensive reading and writing. So I felt locked in my own head. The shift started when I fell in love with the work of songwriters. I was amazed at how their lyrics could do everything I craved in expressing emotion, all without the difficulty of having to translate from a page to my mind. Their songs made me want to be a writer, to work with words for the rest of my life – when all previous writers had left me feeling like this was an impossible mountain to climb. This is why I consider everything I compose in terms of thinking and speaking – not writing. Typing or handwriting are only methods of getting it across, just like public speaking or audio recordings, but the final result remains identical. All of my poems are written out loud, and only turned into text later. Even a short essay like this is arranged in my head a line or two at a time before being committed to the page. Perhaps this is all so painfully obvious, but I don't think we talk about it enough. Many folks are turned off from being writers because they've been told that there's only one way to do it. If you're dyslexic, it might be a struggle to read or write long strings of text, and unenjoyable even if you manage. If you've got a short attention span like me, you might never care to bother. That's part of why I love short form work, and why it's most of what I create – it's simply more accessible. I'm not the first to try and separate the concept of words from writing, but maybe I'm the first to say to you. If you've got a burning desire to communicate what's inside, you might feel more at home with a less expected method of working with words. There's a wonderful wealth beyond the world of text on pages. Don't let the margins cage you in. July 16, 2024 Phinney's Cove, Nova Scotia Year 17, Day 6092 of my daily journal.

[iatrophilosophos]

@thesiltverses, have you read against his-tory, against leviathan by Freddy pearlman? Honestly I'd be shocked if you hadn't since it is very literally about the consumption of gods as tools in human hierarchy (among other things).

I've been thinking about the wound tree camp in reference to these passages:

"The once-free human being increasingly becomes what Hobbes will think he is. The armor once worn on the outside wraps itself around the individual’s insides. The mask becomes the individual’s face. Or as we will say, the constraint is internalized. The ecstatic life, the freedom, shrinks to a mere potentiality. And potentiality, Sartre will point out, is nothing."

"We do not learn of the revulsion or of the expectation of human renewal from the dancers themselves because ignorant armies, Cyrus’s foremost among them, break up the circles.

We learn from the children and grandchildren who have not themselves danced, but who have heard.

In China the visions of Zarathustra’s equally shadowy contemporary Lao Tze are gathered up in books and come to be known as The Way.

In India the visions of one called Gautama are collected and come to be considered by masked and armored as techniques for removing the mask and armor.

In Greece, echoes of the hopes stay with the women who continue to dance and who remember having seen a new Dionysus emerge from ashes. Echoes stay with musicians who gather with Pythagoras of Samos in order to renew the hopes.

The main outlines of what Turner will call “the crisis cult,” Christianity, precede it by twenty-five or thirty generations. And the main outlines of the inversion of the crisis cult also precede it, and by at least as many generations. The Persian Cyrus who wears the mantle of Zarathustra and the later Indian Ashoka who wears the mantle of Buddha are both forerunners of Constantine and the Popes."

"Now, in the days of Potifex Maximus Octavian, there is an even greater movement, both abroad and at home. What Turner calls “the crisis cult” is only one among many parts of this movement. Unfortunately for humanity and for nature, the crisis cult that will eventually father the Western Spirit takes root in a dark corner where light is expected to shine forth from Optimus Maximus, from the lightless abstraction of Leviathan itself.

The “crisis cult” does not spring out of the air but out of the attempts of human beings to disencumber themselves of the integument that dehydrates them. And it is not a “cult.” It is a living way that becomes da cult only when it is re-encased in the artifice’s integument."

If you have read it, I applaud the application of the concepts--but if not, then that's even more impressive.

Pearlman presents anti-civilization anarchy as the logical conclusion of criticisms of *gestures* all this shit; and as an explanation of why reformist political movements are so co-optable. In the bookclub we're currently reading AHAL in, we're asking the questions: is anti-civilization legitimately a less co-optable frame of critique? (Could we kill every god? Can we remove the armor, can we refuse to foster new gods?) What lessons can we take from the crisis cults? The silt verses and especially the wound tree camp is a really fantastic thought experiment as to how pearlmans concepts are lived through in the imperial core and splinter movements.

I don't have any answers or a neat question to tie it all together with, and I have to go work on the garden. I just wanted to say that the silt verses was really relatable and lovely to me and a lot of my friends who are trying to walk away from omelas, and that if it offered a spark to anyone else, pearlman is a pretty nice next step to dream and start moving. Here in the US, hurricane helene (very proximate to me) is viscerally introducing yet another wave of people to the fact that the grid is already collapsing under its own weight, and expectably a lot of the response is prioritizing buisness as usual for those at the top of the hill and sacrificing a lot of human beings to the foundations. I think in a time of disasters, art can--at least hopefully, sometimes--help us fight against the knee-jerk urge to reaffirm the system when it is in crisis by helping us to feel the horror of buisness-as-usual moreso than the fear of something else; and take those opportunities when we are forced to function outside of the grid to take more steps further away (community water catchment and filtration, composting toilets, continuing to build medical cohorts that can function as much as possible independently of global infrastructure and all the precarity and violence that entails) instead of clawing back in and throwing more bodies in the mud behind us. Dreaming through art also gives us--albeit imperfect--opportunities to iterate. As the world is rapidly deteriorating and we--as pearlman puts it--are trapped with the armor of internalized civility, the need to rapidly try on idea after idea to retain resilience (at least, i think so). I don't read much utopian fiction but Woman On The Edge of Time, a pulpy mad liberationist utopian sci-fi from the 70s (with some unfortunate 2nd wave feminist baggage :/) was a great exercise in this for me, because it provided a scattershot of ideas from "blindingly improbable considering the climate crisis" to "that seems decent" to "i would hate this immensely and would like to make intentional decisions about how I relate to people for whom this represents utopia." The silt verses also provided this to me (and, if it's not too much to say-- i enjoy and respect your work immensely, but I doubt we'd be great friends in an isolated compound :p)

But, art, philosophy, even just posting, whatever is a tool--it's up to us as an audience to engage with it as such, not only exercising media literacy (e.g. wondering if perhaps, when a work seems very heavy handed about a basic theme such as "capitalism bad", it may actually be taking that as a given to make deeper statements within the canon of works that all agree on "capitalism bad" 🙃) but deriving experimental lenses with which to view the world and bouncing ideas through the people around us to find affinity and tensions. As creators-- we have infuriatingly, beautifully limited control over if that actually happens. Wahooo

Woah that got long, sry lol!

Hello! Writing first to thank you for such an extraordinary creation - as a piece of writing and even more so in performance. Every episode manages to somehow build on and outdo the last; you navigated that transition from a smaller scale story of grisly mysteries and personal crises of faith to a grand scale of war, revolution and political satire with absolute aplomb, and never lost that throughline of exceptional characterisation and sharp writing, always steering to the most interesting conflicts. You are always very humble in your public comments, but I hope you allow yourself a little pride, because this is absolutely top notch stuff.

I was struck by Paige's final words, that she hopes what they left would be found 'flawed, inadequate, yearning'. As the show went on, I was surprised - in a good way - that the show's politics gradually crystalised into a full-on nihilist anarchism, something perhaps even along the lines of Monsieur Dupont. (Muna used the 'a' word in one of the Q&As but it was pretty evident even before that). Taking these gods as a metaphor for ideologies and social systems, the scope of it becomes pretty universal - and unsparing. And, equally, hard to answer.

I wondered when the Many Below/Wound Tree was introduced what answers they would find: what political movement could truly resist cooption or becoming its own horrible self-sustaining egregore. And in the end the answer you express I suppose is a negative one: that even Paige's god of victims is a tool, one that must eventually be discarded to go into some unknown place beyond it all (to walk away from Omelas), towards something that narrative fiction - as a form of the 'endless words' that are derided so much in the third season - can no longer address. Which I respect - to pose the question is vital, even if the tools can't reach any answers if they even exist.

I think this struggle exists in many stories that address themes of making a break from the rapacious society that created them (and take it seriously) - your Baru Cormorants and Mononoke-himes. We can describe the problem vividly, but since we do not have a counterexample to hand, any story we tell about ~what is to be done~ and what it will look like when it is feels like it will be just as hollow as the spins and angles and parasitic fantasies that so many characters advance in the Silt Verses. (How could there possibly be a time where it finally works out, after we have seen all this? But then, what are we living for?)

To try to make this a question and not a ramble, I wanted to ask - what do you see as the role of fiction in addressing the horrible machinery of this world? Is it enough to pose the question particularly sharply, skewer the bad and inadequate answers, and leave the readers/listeners to figure out how to make the killing of gods concrete? How do we punch through the bounds of it all being Content, another product to be bought and sold? What does it mean to sit here and fantasise about people making that revolutionary break when there is no revolution to be had?

I don't know what answer I'm hoping for here, but given the themes of the show, I feel like this must be a kind of thing you've thought about, and probably have a far more developed line of thought than I do. And if this is a bit too much to drop in your inbox on a Saturday morning, I will say again thank you for writing this story and all the actors for making it so strikingly concrete - it truly means a lot, and I will treasure it.

Hi, and thank you for listening and for a beautifully written and thoughtful ask! ('Horrible machinery of the world' stopped me dead in my tracks.) And I am very proud, genuinely.

I don't have a good enough answer to your questions, and for me a lot of TSV is very much about trying to figure those answers out, but let me try and sum up my perspective bit by bit.

Is it enough for fiction to pose the question, without also proposing the answer?

I don't think it's enough for fiction as a collective body of work.

I'd argue there's probably a tendency towards open-endedness and irresolution in these individual narratives simply because it feels like a more honest acknowledgement that in real life, the foe has yet to take a real body blow and will not go down easy; that the foe, in fact, is the marketplace for the work itself and ironically profits from the popularity of stories with easy heroic victories over villains who represent capitalism. That these stories inevitably become a pleasant consumable that serves our complacency within the belly of the beast, a kind of daily tonic to reassure us that good always triumphs and regular people always come out on top.

I also think that the sheer scale and scope of the topic creates its own challenges; you probably can't engage thoroughly enough with both the dystopian question and your ideas for a utopian answer all in a single story, without ultimately turning the latter into that false reassurance, a quick handwave of a happy ending.

You mention Omelas, and I think we could illustrate the problem by looking at how LeGuin handles her two successive masterpieces:

The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas, which gives us the titular resource-rich u(dys)topia built on invisible suffering, and the dissidents who turn their backs on that world and walk out into the inhospitable wilderness in search of something better.

The Dispossessed, which as its premise gives us Anarres, an imperfect but sympathetic anarchist society whose adherents turned their backs on a neighbouring world of capitalist plenty to live out in the inhospitable wilderness in search of something better.

Anarres can very reasonably be viewed as LeGuin's direct answer to the question posed by Omelas, and she would have likely had it in her mind already as she wrote Omelas. But if the short story had ended with 'I hear that against all odds, the ones who walk away have successfully founded an anarchist utopia where hardship is everywhere but it's shared as equitably as possible. THE END', the amount of lazy shorthand and empty comfort involved in that happier ending would inevitably make it a dishonest and unserious offering.

Instead, Anarres is a starting premise to be interrogated at length over the course of a separate story, rather than a happy ending to simply reassure the reader that better things are possible - and even at the end of the novel LeGuin's unresolved questions are still very similar to the ones that we're left with in Omelas (and the same questions that I feel like we were knocking about in The Silt Verses, and which I guess you could argue are all lingering concerns at the end of Mononoke, as well): how and where can we find space to create and sustain a genuine alternative when the narrative environment of capitalism is so powerfully all-subsuming and constantly growing to fill the space? Do we need to disconnect entirely, vanishing as if dead? If we disconnect, how can we possibly survive and what inhumanities or ethical compromises will be required of us? If we do survive, is our isolationism a dereliction of human responsibility to those left behind?

All of which is to say that I think present-day fiction absolutely can make the attempt to meaningfully explore potential alternative-utopian solutions in more depth and with far more tangibility than we attempted with TSV - but that dystopian fiction like ours which concludes with the unexplored promise of a revolutionary utopia and the vague reassurance that the irrepressible human spirit will figure things out from here on out (Chewbacca gets a medal, everyone's in the streets wearing a Guy Fawkes mask) doesn't do much more than dramatically undermine its own goal of disrupting the audience's comfort.

That said, one of my big regrets this season was that we didn't succeed in more engagingly exploring and articulating the Woundtree camp's development into a flawed but functioning society in Dispossessed fashion ahead of the ending. That was my intention, but what quickly became clear was that in a dramatic format, with a limited cast, it was just endless static meeting-room scenes with Paige and Elgin discussing difficult responses to impossible challenges, while everyone else was out having dynamic and exciting adventures with lots of fun and exciting gods. Dystopias remain too entertaining for utopias' own good.

What do you see as the role of fiction in addressing the horrible machinery of this world?

I believe that absurdist horror fiction specifically, founded on the principle of 'people in a world that makes no sense, deluding themselves that it definitely does make sense' can play a very powerful role in that stated purpose.

Many horror traditions carry the baggage of inbuilt or inadvertent conservatism - the concept of a peaceable, passive, safe, middle-class Normality which is then disrupted by a terrifying outside threat (alien, ultra-foreign, ultra-low-class, underworldly, wild, etc). But absurdist horror very directly identifies Normality as the true source of our terror and very directly confronts our human response to it. It creates the right environment for us to ask all of the good questions. Isn't this an unsustainable nightmare we're living in? Why are we expending so much energy pretending it isn't? How do we get out and what do we do if we can't?

Probably the only listener reaction that's genuinely frustrated me about both of our shows is the folks who come away turning their noses up at the bluntness of that approach and acting like they've Solved The Art simply for figuring out where our broad sympathies lie. "Hm, just listened to The Silt Verses and I understood it at once; it's clearly trying to say that capitalism is bad. A little heavy-handed in its messaging for my liking, hm-hm!"

Not to go full Garth Marenghi, but for me the directness of the provocation and the obvious outrageousness of the nightmare is the point; it then allows us to go to places that other genres (or more understated critiques) generally can't.

How do we punch through the bounds of it all being Content, another product to be bought and sold? What does it mean to sit here and fantasise about people making that revolutionary break when there is no revolution to be had?

God, I don't know.

Maybe it means nothing; maybe we can't punch through; maybe there is no story unruly enough to be truly unco-optable, and therefore even the most radical fiction ultimately serves as a distraction, a placebo, a reassurance (that we are not alone, that better things are possible) which will impact the wider world more by keeping us subscribed to the Kindle app than by any action we might feel inspired to take.

Amazon is paying Boots Riley to make TV shows. Disney won much praise for delivering a revolutionary fantasy in a Star Wars shell. Apple is funding excellent, discomfiting and furious corporate satires about how we happily ignore invisible worker abuses for the sake of our own lifestyles, but they also cannot be considered accountable for the deaths of Congolese child-labourers in the global cobalt supply chain. The Dispossessed is in development as a limited series and the LeGuin estate are closely involved.

The master doesn't just own the tools, he's been buying up the guillotines as well.

What if, as with the unknowable nothingness outside of Omelas, the only art that cannot be reduced to product in net service of the status quo is the art that's so invisible and inaccessible and disconnected as to not exist at all? Does being relatively small and ramshackle really lend us any ideological purity, any genuine detachment? You can listen to The Silt Verses on Apple and Spotify and Amazon Music. Brought to you by Acast.

Chapter 36 with Dev and Seb was to a large extent intended as an articulation of that worry. To what extent can we still trust in the integrity of a sincere love story (one that we want to believe in) it if takes place in an insincere and predatory environment? Can any meaningful story be told honestly within such a space?

This stuff really worries me. I think it's probably right to worry. I don't know the answer. I do know that there are some folks for whom the show has made a tangible difference in terms of their life's direction, and that's a huge comfort to me.

There was someone who said it helped them find their faith, strangely and wonderfully. Someone else who said it contributed to their decision not to go down a more lucrative career path within what they view as an exploitative industry. (I hope they don't regret that decision; I hope it makes them happy.)

So there's something there. Maybe.

[jonathankatwhatever]

It’s 22 July 2023, and I’ve been unable to concentrate, which usually means something is coming together that I can’t look at yet because it’s not ready but it’s at the stage where I’m distracted, meaning I focus but not on math, not on work, not on anything much but what is in front of me. There is an alternation in that, which means an SBE, because this form counts states, and we have Start, over to the other side and back is Between, and End, so what happens is each of these basic chains construct so they are alternations. That’s why even permutations, the count of 2 permutations is the count of these 3 states.

Beyond that, I think I need to say that permutation means the solution to whatever generates that permutation, meaning the real action is on the other side of the permutation, which explains the various operations we use. This is getting obscure. I’m trying to say, if my middle fingers would cooperate better on the keyboard, is that we can list a permutation that counts to the Between End of Between. Between can be squeezed or expanded within the Start and End constraints, if that isn’t obvious. And we can list whatever returns to End. But that means the solution which is both of these, which constitute the SBE, are gs constructions, meaning they can include vast gs process. Was that obvious? I now see it that way but it didn’t feel obvious until I said it. We are here connecting this representations, so when the make sense, when they ring, they should feel obvious.

Ring the bell. So many meanings in that. Oh, so that which makes the bell ring, with all those meanings in there, resonates above and that shows them the bell is ringing here.

I am suddenly revisiting a thought from yesterday in which I saw how 2 is 3 and so forth through the construction of a 3rd which is visible from different perspectives, meaning there is a 4th, so this has constructed up to fD and thus into gs. The anti-hero indeed. Okay, to explain that, visible from different perspectives means a 3rd is the 4th relative to the other 3rd, where the other 3rd is merely the pespective of each of the paired 2. I keep hearing and this is orthogonal, but something is preventing me from accepting that without more. This is a version of the idea developed not long ago that reality works with the face-face physical existence of actual bodies, and that acts as the dividing 1-0Segment of an fD whose Ends are the perspective of the one toward the other. This was the I//I of tangible and intangible, meaning we or at least I accepted without thinking about it that I//I is the conception of Irreducible forms in general, another now obvious truth.

Well, maybe we did mention the idea once before. I know that recently it’s been implicit. Another example of a Thing moving along partially obscured, visible only in glimpses, as they move through the alternations, through the cycle phases that become CR. I think I’ll post this and make some food.

———————

It is with some trepidation that I say things like we connect Triangular to the Leech lattice through a D12 lattice over the Eisenstein integers. So that’s the complex Leech lattice and the Eisenstein integers are a triangular lattice in complex numbers.

And we mentioned the connection between a Janko group and the Monster through a Conway group. The idea needs me to get lower before I can say this well. So maybe the form of the Eisensteins. I’ll give it a spin.

The first idea I see is that we have an integer and we add a construction to that to make a third. The construction is a 2nd integer times a component equal to e^i2Pi/3, which is the count from 1 to 2 in gs process over CR divided into SBE. That makes sense; it’s like saying you start with a, go through b and end at c. Why is 3 SBE here? One reason is that if you define the Irreducible to the representation using a pie chart of a circle or the like, then you get Hexagonal. That’s cool because now you can define Hexagonal as breaking into and thus being made of the Irreducibles of D3 translated into CR.One representation would be of triangles making a star so the tips are equidistant.

Try the next definition: -1 + iroot3 / 2. What does that translate into? The imaginary root 3 is going to be End to End over an fD. The divided by 2 is that the fD is made of 2bT. The -1 locates the - - quadrant, which is how the alternating process works. This also translates roots of unity into CR. I think that’s my main insight now, that roots of unity are … oh, what’s this? If I look at an image of how they graph these, I see xK with implicit yK, which is the point of the Irreducibles and the I//I process. This thus maps counting those processes and counting over them.

Sorry, I was eating cheese like a dog when I started thinking and this means we, meaning people in general not us, do use Triangular and gs, which are the Gaussian integers, and thus the entire D-structure is there, and I was happily chewing away until my non-dog-eating-cheese-mind snapped into place and I went, ‘What was that?’ This is D-structure. This is where it connects. I remember thinking several time this had to be true, but now I reached the conclusion from the other direction. Instead of trying to apply these knowns, I’ve reached them as being what fits to what I now know. Connects the knowledge.

I can’t say I’m comfortable enough with this to do a public presentation this minute, but this is really good work. We’re adding an entire layer of comprehension on top of these mathematical structures.

[animeyanderelover]

8/25. I picked this character since he’s one of my favorites.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, manipulation, abduction, isolation, restriction, death

Yandere Ulquiorra Cifer Hc’s

💚Ulquiorra does not believe in emotions and things his eye can't see. He is materialistic. This human there seemingly wants to test him though. Ulquiorra is extremely obsessive and a huge stalker. Even if his rather cold and cool exterior doesn't give it away, he is thinking about his darling every minute he doesn't have any work to do and he gets slightly annoyed by it. The Espade rejects those feelings, wants you out of his mind. His inital strategy is drowning himself in tasks and work only to keep you out of his thoughts. You're expendable and trash, it shouldn't be that hard to rid himself of thoughts about you. It doesn't unfold as he expects it to happen though because instead his mind seems to only circle around you more. Maybe it is because he doesn't tend to his curiosity about you. Something is bothering him in a way he can't explain and only someone who really takes a close examination realizes that there is something on Ulquiorra's mind.

💚With nowhere else to turn, Ulquiorra eventually caves in to this insatiable interest in you. It's in a way humiliating when he searches for you in your world, he might even play with the thought of killing you since you are in his way and don't have any worth for Aizen. Those thoughts vanish as soon as he starts stalking you. He experiences some rather strange effects that come with stalking you, positive outcomes nonetheless. His focus returns to him, you surprise him by being more interesting than he initially thought you to be and watching over you is something he finds himself quickly growing accustomed to. So much that it starts bugging him when he can't stalk you every once in a while and observe you. Stalking you becomes worringly fast something completely daily for the Espada, it feels weirdly good to see you. To be near you.

💚He would never refer to it as jealousy if someone would explain the concept of it to him. He does know that after some time there is something inevitably annoying him whenever someone gets too close to you or is very touchy with you. Ulquiorra has come up with his own solution why something seems to jab him in his chest whenever he has to witness affection and clinginess from others towards you. Because they are nuisances who stop you from evolving and perfecting yourself. You see, after a while Ulquiorra has noted down everything he could find out about you. The man even went as far as to break into your house and go through your room, he just wants to know everything. He knows your flaws, has even come up how to overcome them. Those people are stopping you from wanting to be better.

💚He's not particulary violent, even if he views those he sees as not interesting or important to Aizen as disposable. The more he becomes obsessed, the more their mere presence with you bothers him. He always stares at people you keep close to you with a hint of distaste in his eyes, pinpointing in mere minutes of observation down why they're a hindrance to you. Whilst normally not someone who prefers to dirty his hands, Ulquiorra is capable of committing crimes that involve killing. With more and more time where he grows used to stalking you he finds himself at the most ease if you are just by yourself. In a delusional way he believes those are yours and his moments together which is why he feels like his privacy hasn't been respected when someone constantly interferes. He feels provoked and wouldn't have much qualms about killing those close to you. When he reaches the peak of his obsessed infatuation, he's pretty much ready to slaughter everyone close to you.

💚Kidnapping his darling is an inevitable outcome as soon as he grows rather possessive. By now it is safe to say that he has gone down the rabbit hole of obsession. There is this desire inside of him to have you constantly with him because stalking you isn't enough. He wants to talk to you like every other trash constantly does with you, wants to help you become the more perfect version of you he has drawn in his mind. There is even a part of him that wants you to think only of him and not anyone else. What you humans call the heart, he wants to own. He wants to possess his s/o, their mind, their body, their heart. Ulquiorra thinks before he jumps into action, adjusts a few things in the place he plans to keep you in. The abduction is no big drama since he knocks you efficiently out. When you wake up, shackled, he is already waiting for you. It'll be the first time you'll hear someone talking about the whole kidnapping and owning you from now on in such a matter-of-fact way. Get used to seeing only him because Ulquiorra will isolate you.

💚He can be extremely creepy and unnerving, downright scary even, when he just stares at you or threatens to kill your family and friends whenever you miss them. He's demanding of your love, wants you to only think about him. At the same time he is also so incredibly boring that it's laughable. You can't have a good conversation with him since he hasn't been introduced yet to the concept of humor and fun. You'll just get the stare of very mild confusion. Confusion is another good word to describe him who is completely out of ideas when it comes to love. You sometimes wonder if he even knows why he kidnapped you and truthfully, Ulquiorra can't give you much of a valid answer either. You constantly end up having to explain things to him and worse is that as soon as you say something he doesn't get, you have to explain because if you don't, he'll insist until you cave in. He just seems to like listening to your voice. Ulquiorra expects you to just accept that you are his possession now and handles you being a brat with a punishment in his calm way, he even berates you. He treats you rather good most of the time, simply because he believes your body to be his so he won't tolerate you harming your body since it isn't yours anymore.

[legaciestold]

there's a soft fondness which finds katarzyna's features, an ease of which she has lacked for longer than she cares to admit. her smile is bright, eyes light. oh there was no doubt of the war around them or the task they'd have to venture forth to soon enough but some kind of weight seemed to have eased from her. was it hope? was it faith in her purpose? in having a new direction instead of a status quo that was all battle and little else? she chuckles at his comment. no killing. definitely no killing. just loving. love. it was almost a foreign concept to her after so long and yet it seemed to fill her with a kind of warmth she wasn't sure she'd ever felt like this before.

"it is, what i think is best." katarzyna responds, needing no ability to read his thoughts to have a sense of where his might be wondering. true it was no small thing to allow him to be privy to such a meeting, yet it was perhaps time to make a clear indication that to go forward in this war they did have to truly open themselves to working together. she had spent long enough in her attempts to conform and meld into his camp even if she did a poor job of it and such only furthered the divide of separation.

of course she was not proposing to openly wield magic or have her soldiers invading the grounds of his camp but she was not a mere follower either. she'd woken up this morning and placed her uniform on and she intended to follow such suit going forward regardless to looks and judgements she may get outside of her own. his camp knew forces of some sort had allied with washington, now they would know in some form she was part of such. and her people would see that she was trusting of the major and truly allied with washington's circle and she expected such acceptance from her people of it. bringing benjamin to the meeting was a clear symbol of what she expected going forward. and if she was honest, she felt on some level, in most of her people's cases, they would be more accepting than his for the simple fact they'd lived centuries in the place of those unaccepted. in all, this was her making her stand and the stand she expected of her forces, clear. "oh there's plenty to learn. just perhaps.. not all at once." katarzyna retorts with a little bit of a playful smirk upon her features. then she begins to pull away to lead them downstairs.

once they are there, there is not an exceeding amount of activity for it was still early. there are no new faces, only those who had been there in the night to greet them, the assumption being they had been relieved from the outer post by others and were awaiting this meeting before going about something else or resting. they offer a nod of greeting, in the major's direction and utter a greeting to katarzyna in greek, with one, the asian woman, stating they have a new report from the field. with the room now illuminated, it's clear that what once was a living space for the previous owners had now been converted into a kind of war room. there were maps, reports, and strange drawings and symbols attached to the wall though while their outlines were what one would expect of the colonies, their regions and territories appeared completely foreign as if displaying some secret boundary lines that ignored publicly established ones.

the others in the room watch and wait to see what katarzyna does, if she sends the major away or allows him to stay and it's another soldier in an all black uniform and a shifting of color and darkness in his eyes displayed (perhaps because he did not choose to hide it), slight tension in his tone but also not disrespect which questions, this time in english as if he's trying to show a politeness to the major through it, if they should begin. this is new territory, but at least with those in this room, they will follow their general's lead where ever it so led. katarzyna moves toward the table in the center of the room, a map seeming to have been burned into the table yet when one came close enough to truly look upon it one could see within the black lines a kind of living spark that shifted the images slightly, moving them across the map as if to mirror the real movements. "we are partnered with washington's forces, are we not?" she questions toward the others in the room. "major tallmadge can be trusted." she states before adding in greek. "i also understand him to be fluent in greek."

her eyes dart to tallmadge for a moment, watching him take things in. her stance moves slightly closer to him without touching him, as if wanting to give him some level of comfort with her presence in the midst of the magic around him even if it was minor forms. she knew, even if he accepted her, seeing such things as a living map or understanding that others in the room might not be human was a lot to take in.

"tell me, does this report explain why general kerr is off course to where he should be this morning?" katarzyna questions looking upon the map and then at one of the officers. the answer she receives causes an annoyed expression to crease her features because she's just been told kerr was forced to go around a territory thought to be upon their side after the werewolves who held control of the area had reached some agreement with forces from crown and a battle had commenced.

both sides had taken a hit it appeared and katarzyna requests a fire message to be sent to general kerr that he should stay his new course however should avoid an approach to the target from the west given his new course even if it should delay them for the same reasons as such was avoided during the battle of rolan. still, the territory would need to be dealt with and a soldier should be sent with a message to a territory to the east of the avoided area, for while they may have some loyalty to the crown, their histories show those of that land have a greater dislike of those who engaged in battle with her people. they could be turned if land promised to them. she's sure of it. and if they give issue to the solider sent with the message, they can be reminded of who aided their family in the old world and they should take heed of whom is sending the messenger. there was no more room for them to exist in a middle ground.

there is no talk of congressman or those of state whom one would think would be spoken of in relation to these matters if in washington's camp, for these matters are a world of their own within the human's world but unseen by them. forces hidden in plain sight, a second war within a war. "unless there are more immediate matters, i request the room after which i must go with tallmadge to deal with a cockroach. i can attend to all else when i return." with that, the others exit the house, clearly dismissed and katarzyna sighs heavily for a moment, hands leaning onto the table as she notes the symbol of kerr's forces has somewhat advanced. "things very rarely go to plan in war." she states, turning toward him and attempting to gain a read on him. was this all too much too fast? was he going to take these things in stride? "tell me what you're thinking?"

The dark quality to Katarzyna's voice was unmistakable. It gave Benjamin pause, and as he turned to appraise her, he stiffened at the sight of the dark cloud materializing in between them, a physical extension of the woman's emotions. Without a moment's notice, the apparition disappeared akin to smoke, leaving him gaping and open-mouthed.

She stepped forward and touched his cheek. "if i had known all i needed was a night with you to regain my powers and strength, we'd have already had many nights like last."

Unbidden, Benjamin's shock turned to shy pleasure, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he grinned. Curling his hand around her wrist, he quipped, "Yes, well while you seem to be regaining strength, it would seem that I am rapidly losing mine. If you attempt to love me any more than you already have, I might start assuming that you're trying to kill me."

Katarzyna kept her hand on his face, her light eyes filled with fondness. "i'll have to speak with a few of my people first. there should be a few reports for me downstairs. it will not take long but i do not know how long our interrogation will last. i should do this before we go."

Benjamin nodded, turning his head to kiss her palm. It startled him that she requested that he accompany her. Although a part of him was touched by her gesture of good faith, the other part was also a little unnerved; not by what she could do, but what her people might attempt, were they to be displeased by his presence.

"If that's what you think is best," Benjamin agreed. "I'm not sure what more you wish me to learn, but...I-I believe I'm open to it. For your sake." Expression softening, he lifted both hands to cup her cheeks, his thumbs fondly skimming along the curves of her face. "Lead the way -- where you go, I follow."

[ragingbookdragon]

Even Though We May Be Hopeless Hearts Just Passing Through, I Was Made For Loving You PT. 1

Batsis x Kyle Rayner

Word Count: 2.1K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I realize the other story didn't follow the whole, dating the brother's best friend trope, so I decided to remedy it. And what do you get when you cross a hopeless romantic with someone who's new to love? Perfection. That's what. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

Saturday mornings, in Dick’s opinion, were meant for sleeping in and quite possibly going to IHOP when everyone finally crawled out of bed at ten. They were not meant for being shoved in the side by a little brother.

“Golden-boy,” a voice grouched from beneath the bedside. “Your phone’s been going off for an hour. Either put it on silent or answer the goddamn thing.”

Dick let out a tired ‘pfft’, rolling onto his stomach, face buried in the side of the bed as he looked down to the floor. “Annoyed much, Little-wing?”

“I am going to shove that phone so far up your—”

Reaching over, Dick put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Where are you?

“Still in bed,” he responded, sentence ending in a groan as he stretched. “Why?”

You were supposed to be on the flight back to Gotham two hours ago.

Dick’s eyes went wide, and he sat up, gaping at the bedside clock. “It’s today.”

It is today. I can’t believe you forgot it was today.

“Oh my God, it’s today and we missed our flight.” He stumbled out of the bed, barely registering the shout from Jason as his foot landed in his brother’s stomach. “Jason, get up! It’s today!’

“What’s today?” his little brother griped, rubbing his abdomen.

“(Y/N)’s coming back!”

Jason’s eyes went wide, and he scrambled to his feet, hurriedly finding his bag to change out of his nightclothes. “Christ, I can’t believe we forgot that (Y/N) was coming home today!” he looked at Dick. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Dick yelped. “How is this my fault!”

He scowled. “Big brother wanted everyone to be with a sibling for the night, so they’d be together and be punctual but you and I both know neither of us have any concept of time.” His scowl grew. “I knew I should’ve bunked with Cass. She’s on time no matter what happens.”

Dick threw Jason’s sweatshirt at him. “Dress now, bitch later.” He put the phone back to his ear. “We missed our flight, but we can drive there.”

Your car’s in the shop.

“Shit,” he hissed, spinning in a circle to help his brain circuit enough to think of something new. “Uh-uh-uh—”

“Kyle!” Jason shouted, pointing at him. “Kyle’s like thirty minutes away from Manhattan! We’ll go to him for a ride!”

Dick grinned. “We’ll find Kyle.”

You sure Kyle’s at home?

“Pfft, Kyle’s always home on the weekends. He’s lazy.”

Just get here. (Y/N)’s plane is going to land in less than four hours.

“We’ll be there,” he said. “Is Diana coming too?”

Of course. She is (Y/N)’s mother.

“Nice. Alright, see you in Gotham, Bruce.”

Love you boys. And be careful. I’ve already heard that Cass, Tim, and Steph got into a fender-bender with Damian and Duke.

Dick blinked. “They’re…they’re legitimately driving separate cars? How’d they hit each other?”

Don’t ask.

The line went dead, and Dick looked at his brother. “Ready?”

Jason nodded. “Already got an Uber to Kyle’s place.”

“We could always just Uber to Gotham?” he offered, and Jason recoiled with a shocked look.

“And pay a ridiculous amount of money instead of just paying Kyle’s gas? Fuck no, big brother.” He shoved his wallet and keys into his pockets. “C’mon!” he chirped, rather excitedly. “Our baby sister’s coming home!”

***

When he swung the door open to yell at whoever was pounding on it, he wasn’t expecting to see two of his best friends grinning like idiots. “Wha—”

He’d barely gotten a word out when Jason shoved a bag of fast food in his hands. “Get dressed. You’ve gotta drive us to Gotham City.”

Kyle blinked, glancing down at the bag before looking at Dick. “Why?”

“Our sister’s coming home, and we overslept and missed out flight outta here.”

“And you came to me…why?” he asked.

“Because you have the functioning car.” Jason retorted, antsy on his feet. “C’mon Kyle. We have to hurry! (Y/N)’s coming home!”

Figuring it was better to agree than to argue, Kyle relented, handing back the bag of food before he disappeared into his apartment, reappearing moments later, dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans, a graphic tee, and his usual slim casual jacket. He took the bag back and started digging around in it.

“Who’s (Y/N)?” he inquired, biting into a breakfast burrito as he locked his front door behind him.

“Our baby sister.” Jason said.

“I thought Cass was your baby sister?”

Dick nodded, getting out his own breakfast from the bag. “She is. But (Y/N)’s like…the OG baby sister.”

Kyle blinked, glancing over at him as he pushed the elevator button. “That makes no sense.”

“He means that (Y/N) was around before Cass was.”

“And she isn’t with you guys why?”

“She’s been on Themyscira for the last few years training with her grandmother and the other Amazons.” Jason answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world, stepping onto the elevator.

Kyle merely stared at the two brothers who were looking back at him; he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “Wait, your sister’s an Amazon?”

“Yep.”

“Who’s her mom?” he asked, stepping between them.

“Wonder Woman.” Dick said.

Strike two. “Who’s her dad?”

“Batman.” Jason responded.

Believe it or not, Kyle went three for three punches to the gut. “Bruce and Diana had a kid together?”

“Yeah.” Dick murmured. “I think it’s also why B’s so insistent against inter-team-relations.” He nudged Jason behind Kyle. “First time he attempts dating a coworker he ends up with a baby.”

Jason snorted. “And all those lessons about, ‘Children, whatever you do, don’t date anyone on your team. It’ll only lead to babies and limited visitation’.” He laughed again, then he frowned. “I don’t think any of us have followed that lesson.”

Dick opened his mouth to make an excuse but all that came out was a pitiful, deflate of air followed by, “That’s actually a good point.”

The elevator dinged and they watched the doors open before walking out towards the parking garage. They climbed into Kyle’s car, Jason in the front because his legs were longer than Dick’s, and Dick was a contortionist anyways so if anyone deserved to have their knees in their chest, it was him.

Halfway through the drive Kyle asked, “You guys are paying for my gas, aren’t you?”

All he received was unsure responses and he merely sighed.

***

He figured he should’ve just dropped Jason and Dick off at the airport in Gotham and drove home, but he couldn’t help but want to see just what the daughter of Wonder Woman and Batman looked like. He imagined a little girl dressed in a Batman suit three sizes too big and wielding a sword and a lasso way too heavy for her. It made him smile, the way that the two brothers gushed about (Y/N). From their praise, she was their world. Kyle had to see her though, because nothing was going to satiate that curiosity of seeing the big Batman’s daughter.

He watched Dick and Jason crane their necks like birds as they looked around. And honestly, the family shouldn’t have been that hard to find considering that every time Kyle was around the entirety of the Batfamily, they were like psychos on steroids—he very much so understood why the entirety of Gotham’s villains became flighty when every member of the Batfamily was out patrolling.

Kyle wasn’t expecting a voice to crack over the airport, loud and bubbly. “Brothers!”

All three of them stopped, even him who wasn’t even a sibling, looking over towards the call and Kyle’s jaw dropped as a young woman sprinted over to Dick and Jason, slamming into them with the weight of a train. The three of them collapsed into a pile on the floor, but they were laughing so Kyle assumed the siblings were alright.

“Princess!”

“Baby girl!”

“Oh, I am so glad to see you both!” she exclaimed. “I have waited so long to come home!” she was on her feet in moments, pulling them to theirs as if they weighed nothing. And Kyle knew Jason weighed a lot—he’d been crushed under his best friend before in fights.

Suddenly, she stopped and looked over at Kyle who immediately felt his heart lurch under her sharp gaze. “Who is this you have brought?”

Jason gestured to him. “(Y/N) this is Kyle. He’s a friend of Dick and mine. Kyle, this is our little sister, (Y/N).”

She huffed laugh. “I am not little, Jason. I am twenty-one.” Reaching out, she immediately pulled Kyle in for a hug, squeezing him tightly. “It is good to meet you, Kyle.”

“You too,” he murmured, feeling his cheeks warm as she pulled away and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Any friend of my brothers is a friend of mine.” (Y/N) smiled. “Are you a superhero as well?”

He couldn’t help but toss a quick glance towards Jason who nodded. “Uh, yeah. I’m a Green Lantern.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in wonder, and she let go of his shoulders in favor of grabbing at his hands until she found his ring. She stared at it, murmuring quiet, ‘ooo’s and ah’s’. “That is simply amazing!” she chirped, looking at him, and then she silently gasped, raising his hand near his eyes. “Oh…your eyes are almost the same color as your ring.”

Her smile made Kyle’s heart beat a little faster as she expressed, “They are beautiful.”

They gazed at each other, too captivated in the moment to understand that the family had gathered around them by then. Someone’s hand curled around (Y/N)’s wrist and she looked over seeing Dick tugging her hand away.

“C’mon Princess, let’s go get your things on the belt.”

She smiled and followed, giving a small wave to Kyle, who returned hers shakily whilst grinning like a dope.

Someone elbowed him in the ribs, and he gasped, holding his side as Jason muttered, “Don’t ever stare at my sister like that again.”

Kyle blinked, glancing at him. “What’re you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you goddamn skirt-chaser.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Kyle spluttered.

“You’re thinking about it.” Jason warned, pointing a finger in his face. “Make a move on (Y/N) and I’ll kill you with your own ring.” Kyle recoiled just as she and Dick were coming back, both holding a suitcase.

“Father!” she called, glancing at Bruce. “Dick and I have retrieved my luggage.”

He smiled at her. “Let’s go put it in the SUV then.” He paused, looking over the large group. He and Diana had ridden together, and since his children had fender-benders, they’d picked up Cass, Tim, Stephanie, Duke, and Damian; there wasn’t room for (Y/N) too.

“Father? Is something the matter?” (Y/N) was staring at him with concern.

“There’s not enough room in the SUV for you too. Maybe we—”

“There’s room in my car for (Y/N)!” Kyle blurted out, smiling nervously at Bruce. “I can follow behind you.”

Before anyone could screech ‘NO!’, mainly Dick and Jason, (Y/N) lit up like the morning sun. “Oh, that is a wonderful idea!” she grabbed onto Diana’s arm. “We should all stop for ice-cream though! Mother, what do you say?”

She smiled at her and leaned over, kissing her head. “I say that sounds like a fantastic idea, daughter.”

Kyle grinned and held out his arm for (Y/N), her giggling as she took it. “You know, I don’t live in Gotham, (Y/N), but I do know a good gelato store around the area.”

“What is gelato?” she asked, and he groaned.

“Oh, I can’t believe you don’t know what that is.” He started off, pilling her along, leaving everyone behind. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

Jason’s face pinched and he looked over at Bruce. “Can I break the no-kill rule just once?”

Bruce blinked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched his daughter laughing along with Kyle, both looking like newlyweds already. “Believe it or not, I’m strongly considering it.”

“Bruce.” Diana admonished. “Let (Y/N) and Kyle become friends. You know she doesn’t have many outside this family here.”

Dick growled. “Except Kyle doesn’t want to be friends with (Y/N), Diana. He wants to be her boyfriend.”

“They just met though?”

“Yeah, and Kyle’s a propose on week two type of man,” Jason griped. “Jesus Christ, this is going to be a disaster.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but (Y/N) and Kyle said gelato and you guys are just standing here.” Tim said. “Can we go now?”

[chromatic-fate]

I Dream of What Ifs

Hello, everyone!

I am a big fan of @thedeerus Persona 5 AU’s and I decided to make a one-shot of their Murder Boyfriend AU! If you don’t know @thedeerus , please go check them out, they make some cool ass shit (and please send them some couples therapy their way their wife is trying kill them--)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Goro got nightmares, it was a nightly occurrence for him and Akira. It was one of the reasons they slept together every night. But tonight they had to sleep alone.

         It was the night before Goro, Akria, and the Phantom Thieves stole Sae Niijima’s Treasure, and Takamaki had suggested a big sleepover at her apartment. The Detective Duo tried to refuse, but Suzui, the little shit, made it mandatory under the pretense that “it would be a great way to build team trust before the end of our arrangement.” Bitch.

         Goro lied on his futon, losing a staring contest with the ceiling as he tried his best to fight off the impending sleep. He had run through each detailed step for tomorrows plan at least ten times now, and came up with a few more scenarios that he quickly made plan for as well, but he could feel the tiredness slowly seep into his bones.

         A sudden whimper from his right made Goro turn his head towards the sound. Akira, who lay right next to him on the living room floor, had an expression of deep pain and worry. His brows were knitted together, his eyes squeezed tight as if waiting for a hard blow, and his breathing heavier than normal.

         Goro let out a quiet sigh before gently grabbing Akira’s hand and slowly rubbing circles with his thumb. Eventually, Akira’s breathing evened out and his face began to relax, making the brunette smile fondly at him.

         Goro released his hand from Akira’s before getting up from his futon and heading to the kitchen. Goro needed the sleep, he knew he did, it was a big day for everyone tomorrow, but it was hard to sleep with the nightmares. Goro grabbed a glass from one of the cabinets and filled it with water.

         As the brunette drank his glass, his thought of ways he could mitigate the nightmares while here. He knew that physical contact with Akira helped both their nightmares, so maybe he could hold Akira’s hand and cover them up with something? No, their futons were far enough apart that it would look suspicious, and there was no way that either of them were going to get up before any of the thieves.

         “Akechi?” A quiet, but still very sudden, voice said from behind him.

         Goro quickly lowered his glass and spun to the voice, his mind on high alert now. At the entrance of the kitchen stood Suzui, but something was off about her; her dark brown eyes seemed dim, and her body posture was small and fearful.

         “Ah, Suzui, what are you doing up this late?” Goro asked, quickly trying to hide his alertness.

         “I could ask you the same thing.” Suzui quickly put up a smile, but Goro could tell it was fake.

         The brunette gave a practiced chuckle and set his glass down in the sink as Suzui want to grab one herself. She quietly filled the glass with water and slowly drank from the it, her fake smile slowly fading as well as she stared off into space.

         A though crossed Goro’s mind as he stared at the leader of the Phantom Thieves right next to him. Suzui is acting off, she must be shaken by something. Most likely a bad nightmare. Goro internally smirked.

         “Are you alright? You seem a little distracted.” The boy asked gently. He had to be careful here, on wrong move and Suzui would shut him down.

         The girl snapped her head to the detective. She stared at him for a good few minutes, a contemplative look in her eyes. Looks like she thinking over his over. Eventually, she let out a quiet sigh and gently set her glass on the counter.

         “Do you ever wonder…what it might be like…if things were just a little different?” Suzui asked.

         “What do you mean?” Goro responded, trying to get more out of the girl.

         There was a quiet pause before Suzui continued. “The reason I started the Phantom Thieves was to stop Kamoshida from hurting me, Ann, and the other volleyball players, but I only managed to gain that courage because I had access to the Metaverse…” She paused again, turning her head to look away from him. “And I was only able to awaken Medea because Ann was going to die…”

         “I’m sorry that you were put into that situation.” Goro tried to comfort.

         Suzui stayed silent for a little while, leaving a tense atmosphere between them, so tense that Goro visibly tense for a few milliseconds, before she spoke up again.

         “But, after everything that’s happened with Okumura and now Sae, I can’t help but go to all these ‘what if’s. What if I never got that app? What if I never summoned Medea? What if I never went to the Metaverse? What if I never went to Shujin?” Suzui hugged her arms as her voice became weaker. “Would I still stand up to Kamoshida? Would I have still met all my friends? Would the Phantom Thieves still exist? Would Ann still be alive?” Suzui began to tremble slightly, as she practically whispered the next question. “Would I still…be alive?”

         Goro stared at the girl before him, his sudden alertness now completely gone, shock now taking its place. He honestly didn’t know how to respond to something like this. Sure, he and Akira would give contemplative “what if” scenarios to each other from time to time, but they rarely went this deep.

         “Sometimes…I dream about those ‘what if’s.” Suzui continued. “The most common one is…not one I like talking about.”

         “It might help if you do.” Goro offered, seeing a point where he could hit gold.

         Suzui stayed silent for little bit, a contemplative look on her face again, before she let out another sigh.

         “It’s what might have happened if Ann and I never went to the Metaverse…” The girl began, her eyes dim more as she remembers the dream. “I’m standing on the school roof, on the other side of the fence…I don’t know what happened to make me do this, or I don’t want to remember, but…I jump…” Suzui pauses for a minute, building the courage to continue. “I’m still alive, but…I’m on a medical caot…Ann is crying above me, asking me why…I don’t know what I say to her, but it’s related to Kamoshida…And then I pass out…But the strangest thing about the dream isn’t that I remember all of it, or that I can still feel the pain from the fall, but…” Suzui gives a brief glance at Akira through the kitchen window, who is still sleeping soundly on his futon, and Goro finds his action strange until he hears Suzui’s next sentence. “It’s that Kurusu is there, watching from the crowd, next to Ryuji…”

         Goro’s open hands turn into fists. What? Why would Akira be there? Akira went to Kosei with Goro, why would Akira be in Suzui’s dream attending Shujin? Why would he be in Suzui’s dream at all? It made his blood boil.

         Goro shook his head and crossed his arms to rid his irrational and angry thoughts, before slipping his Detective Prince mask back on. He couldn’t blow their cover, not when they’re so close to the end.

         “I see…I’m sorry for all the stress that’s been put upon you lately, Suzui. And I’m glad that you are here.” Goro says with his fake, honey coated, consoling voice he uses for victims who have lost someone to one of his mental shutdowns.

         Suzui turns to him with a weak, but genuine smile and gives him a nod.

         “Thank you, Akechi…That means a lot right now…” Suzui said.

         “Did talking about it help?” Goro asked.

         Suzui nodded again and finished her glass of water before putting it in the sink next to Goro’s.

         “It did. Thank you for listening to me. I think I’m going to go back to bed now. Goodnight.” Suzui finished off before walking back out of the kitchen and into Ann’s room where the girls slept.

         Goro stood in the kitchen for while longer, his thoughts still stuck on that line about Akira being amongst the students of Shujin in Suzui’s dream. Such a concept was unthinkable to Goro, impossible even, and just the passing thought of it made his blood boil with rage. He tried using this chance to see what made Suzui tick, what shook her the most, and instead he was the one getting affected by the mere mention of Akira attending Shujin of all places.

         Goro stayed in the kitchen until he was calm enough to leave, before heading back to his futon. He was still angry, but not enough that it would control him. The brunette sighed as he slipped back under the covers. He wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight, was he?