#I wrote an article about him for work about 10 years ago

[hellishattempt]

𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 - the girl in new york

cr sybbatra on twitter, sourced from pin

🢥 summary : celebrity!au gojo satoru and rumours swirling around your established relationship, 3.1k words 🢥 series includes : choso, fushiguro toji, geto suguru, gojo satoru and nanami kento, part one of five 🢥 content : celebrity!au, gn reader, angst mostly, established relationship, cheating, paps being an ass, lying, use of baby/love/darling and other pet names, song cr goes to nessa barrett, not proofread lol kinda just wrote this instead of studying for exams. don't like the ending, but i never do. 

 . . . GOJO SATORU SEEN WITH ANOTHER WOMAN AT NYFW was not the headline you wanted to wake up to. it was a lazy saturday morning, and you didn't have any plans for the day. your boyfriend, the prominent gojo satoru, was currently in new york for fashion week. you had been dating for almost a year, having met a little over six years ago at club heaven in los angeles on his birthday by pure accident. the japanese born model had been dragged to america for his twenty first birthday, and spilled his drink on you. he hasn't left the states since. he's established himself in the modeling world, and fashion week was the busiest time of year for him. being a singer / songwriter yourself, you had quite the busy schedule. your bustling schedules were part of the reason it took so long for you and satoru to get together. there was mutual pining, but you both spent so much of your time in different cities and airports, that there seemed to be no point in it. but geto made a joke that if satoru didn't bag you, then he would, and that about did it for satoru. sure, dating hasn't been easy, but you've made it work. satoru had moved in with you in your luxury apartment in the hills of los angeles, though neither of you were there often. after all, you were both a lister celebrities. everyone knew your names, especially the paparazzi. 

neither of you were big fans of the paps, satoru especially. you tried to show grace, after all, they were just trying to do their jobs. but their jobs were to be nosy and wrongfully invade your privacy. there were always headlines about you and satoru, the rumours and scandals never seemed to end, but for some reason, this one hit home. your phone read 10:01 a.m. you were in your los angeles apartment, so you were three hours behind satoru. you didn't have any notifications from him, which was weird, because he usually made a point to send you a good morning text before you woke up, no matter what timezone you were in. even if it meant satoru had to set an alarm for two a.m. so that you would wake up with a "good morning, baby," then he would set an alarm. in fact, the only notification you had was a text from shoko, with a link to the article. "have you seen this??" her text read. you clicked the link and it opened a separate page for people magazine. it took all your strength not to roll your eyes. people was your number one enemy when it came to tabloids. they always fabricated such stupid things, so you didn't think much of it at first. still, you read the article word for word. 

"gojo satoru was seen today eating lunch with fellow model, iori utahime, at new york's own per se. gojo and iori have been friends for a while now, but are they more?" you scoffed, adjusting yourself in your large bed, continuing on. "gojo and irori are currently in new york for fashion week, and were photographed outside per se for a late lunch before tonight's opener. the photos were quickly posted, and the response was a mix of emotions. in the string of photos, we see gojo and iori sharing a laugh... while holding hands? in a few, his arm was tightly wrapped around iori's waist as he escorts her out of the restaurant. a few nights prior, photos had of gojo and iori sharing drinks at an elite club on eighth had been released, where they seemed more than friendly. that same night, the took shared a taxi, stumbling into the hotel together. social media shares our reply: has gojo's partner seen this and what do they have to say about it?" the article was short and sweet, but it did the trick. the photos had been attached, as well as a slew of twitter posts. #satohime was the third trending tag on twitter. tears stung your eyes as you white-kunckled your phone in your hand.

you were torn between believing and not believing the article. you knew satoru would never cheat on you, but the evidence was right in front of you. he was out with another woman, someone he's known longer than you, holding hands and wrapping himself close to her. you'd never met utahime, but satoru always returned from fashion week, brimming with stories about her that made him laugh until his stomach cramped. you knew they were close, despite only seeing each other twice a year, they'd grown up together. you tried to tell yourself that maybe it was just a rumour, photos taken out of context. after all, it wasn't anything drastic, like a vulgar makeout video, but it still made you sick. so you did the only thing you knew hot to when it come to your emotions: you wrote a song.

. . . NEW UPLOAD : THE GIRL IN NEW YORK flashed across gojo satoru's screen. it was a youtube notification for your channel. he frown slightly at the words, wondering what you were thinking about when writing this. he was at work right now, so he silenced his phone. satoru would listen to the song on the cab ride back to his hotel. he hadn't heart about the people's magazine yet, despite it being published six hours ago. satoru had been so busy with the fashion week presentations and rehearsals, that lunch with utahime had been the first time in a few days he'd left skylight clarkson. in fact, he'd been so busy, that he'd forgotten to charge his phone the night before. it was currently charging, thanks to utahime letting him borrow hers. satoru felt bad for failing to send you a text, but surely you'd understand if it was just one time. utahime wasn't a model like satoru, instead a manager for one of the labels. fashion week in februar and september were some of the only times they saw each other anymore. every february they swore they'd try to see each other more that year, but sepember would always be the second time they saw each other that year. their schedules just didn't allow for it. and even though satoru was a major pain in the ass to utahime, she prized his friendship. they made a point to spend as much time together during fashion week as possible, hence the drinks and lunch.

when the night had finally ended, satoru was exhasted and couldn't wait to return to his hotel bed. it wasn't as good as sleeping next to you, but he could fall asleep on a bag of dirt at this point. satoru stumbled into a taxi, giving the location of his hotel, and pulled his phone from his bag. it was charged now, and your youtube notification sat prettily on his lockscreen, which was a picture of you laughing with your head thrown back. satoru fumbled in the dark of the cab to find his headphones, finally pairing them to his phone and playing the song. "bags in your hand as you kiss me, tellin' me you're gonna miss me. promised me you'll be on you best behavior." your sultry voice entered his ears as the song started slow, a gentle piano and slow guitar riff. "gave me your flight information, call me when you land, say you made it. sweet little me told you, 'go have a good time.'" the song picked up the pace, transitioning into the pre-chorus and chorus. "i didn't mean forget about me, riding in a yellow taxi. who the hell are you on your way to?" satoru was almost too tired to notice the lyrics. almost. "you said i was yours, but maybe just on the west coast, cause as soon as you left home, you got wandering eyes.

"so i guess you lied when you called me special. you're not as smart as you think you are. who the hell is she, taking you from me?" as the song continued, he was more awake with every bar. "fuck you for making me crazy, while you buy her drinks out on eighth street." were you talking about utahime? wait, did you think he had done something? satoru was so confused, consumed by your obscure lyrics. the song ended too soon for his taste, none of his questions being answered by your final line. "baby, i know about the girl in new york..." your voice faded, his headphones going silent. having reached the hotel, satoru rushed to his room, immediately opening his laptop to do some digging. his phone had been silence all day, and when satoru opened his messages app to see if you had said anything, he was instaed hit with over three hundred texts from shoko and suguru. neither sounded happy with him, while satoru still had no idea what he did. before even acknowledging their texts, he went straight to your conversation. "darling, what's going on with your new song??" he typed out quickly, then added, "not that i don't love it! just kinda confused." he watched as delivered turned to read, which resulted in those damn three dots making two additional appearances before completely disappearing. satoru let out a groan of frustration, going to google and searching your names together. the first thing that popped up was an article from people magazine. "gojo satoru seen with another woman at nyfw." the headline read. fuck, how he hated the paparazzi.

satoru skimmed the article, not pleased with what he was reading. his confusion dissipated into annoyance, both towards you and the fucking paps. you always told him to be nicer towards the media, they were just trying to their job, but these fucking rumours were getting out of hand. how dare they make you think he would ever cheat on you? satoru didn't suffer a friendship with you for five years while being enamored with you every action for one damn article about him and utahime. all of those pictures had been taken out of context. the one where they were holding hands? utahime had tripped on a sewer grate and satoru had reached out so she didn't fall flat on her face. the one with his arm around her waist? they were both completely shitfaced and barely standing on their own. the ones about them at the club and the taxi? satoru can handle a drink or two, but uta gets hammered after two drinks, so of course he was going to take her back to her hotel and make sure she got up all right. that's what friends are for. but now, thanks to the media, he's got a lying article, pissed off friends and a song tearing him to pieces written by the love of his life, who may not ever want to see him again. great, just fucking great.

he dialed your number. you declined it before the first ring. he did this four more times, with you rejecting the call instantly. on the sixth call, there was no rings, and an automated voice responded, "i'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach is not in service or temporarily disconnected. please try again later. good bye." oh my god, you fucking blocked him. irritated with you, the media and with himself for making you feel so insecure, he scrolled to his group chat with shoko and suguru. neither of them were happy with gojo. he didn't bother to read all their messages, he got the gist of it. satoru hastily responded, "i didn't fucking cheat. the article's lying. one of you need to tell them that because i'm fucking blocked." he sent the message, standing in a silent fury. a moment later, satoru threw his phone at the wall with a yell. the device bounced off, falling onto the hotel bed. there was a small dent in the wall nothing extremely noticeable, and his phone was fine. "fuck," satoru breathed, sinking into one of the chairs in his room. he held his head in his hands, mind racing with what to do. an idea formed in his frustrated mind. it was stupid, but it was something. satoru grabbed his jacket and his phone from the bed, storming out of the hotel.

. . . THE SOUND OF SOMEONE POUNDING ON YOUR DOOR pulled you from delirium. groggily, you checked your phone. it was just past four am. who the hell would be at the door at four in the morning? you rolled over in bed, hoping whoever it was would go away. they didn't. they just kept beating at the wood. with a groan, you rose from the mattress. a headache slammed into you as you stood, and you had to sit back down to steady yourself. the last eighteen hours hadn't exactly been fun. after you uploaded "the girl in new york", you had turned your notifications for everything off. although, every five minutes you checked if satoru had texted you. when he finally did, you didn't know how to respond, the images from the article flashing across your mind and filling you with sickness and sadness. you had been out all day, drinking and trying to forget. after getting kicked out of two bars, you went home, where you drank more. throughout the night you emptied the contents of your stomach and eyes, vomiting and crying more than what felt humanely possible. it felt like you had barely lied down when the knocking began.

when you had mustered the strength to stagger your way to the door, you wished you had stayed in bed. a red eyed, messy haired, heaving gojo satoru stood at your door. neither of you spoke. what was there to say? he had cheated on you. you had retaliated with an exposing song. or maybe he hadn't cheated on you, and you simply misunderstood. either way, what had happened, happened. as far as you were concerned, he was here to beg for your forgiveness. you began to shut the door, but he stopped you. with a sigh, you let him in. it was his apartment, too, after all. you wobbled to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and pouring yourself a glass of water. satoru watched you in silence. "well?" you croaked out. "come to apologize? gloat?"

"baby..." he whispered, stretching his arms out to you, but retracting when you took a step back. satoru took a breath, steadying himself. "i didn't cheat," he stated plainly. "i know you think i did. but i didn't. uta is just a friend. i've never thought of her that way, and i'm never going to think of her like that. i'm not dating her, i'm dating you." his words sounded slightly reheards. he must've been practicing on his flight here. it dawned on you that it was four in the morning in los angeles, and seven a.m. in new york. satoru was missing fashion week, here, trying to fix things. a flight from nyc to la was just over six hours, so he would've had to get on a plane by one am est. he had texted you just after eight fifty p.m. pst, so eleven fifty new york time. which means almost as soon as he heard your song, he was on his way to the airport to fly to you. "please baby, you gotta believe me. those paps fucked everything up, the photos-"

"are they fake?" you cut him off. "the photos. are the fake? photoshopped or otherwise edited?"

gojo slightly squirmed, "well, no, they're not edited, but they were taken out of context." he rushed out the last part of his sentence. "please, love, just hear me out."

he looked like a disaster. satoru's normally bright irises were dim, the usual joy gone. he looked sleepless, violent violet bags forming like bruises under his red-rimmed eyes. his fluffy white hair was flat against his forehead, matted and lifeless. he was still in his work clothes, with his favorite blue jacket hanging open on his shoulders. satoru looked like he hadn't ate or slept in the last eighteen hours. maybe it was how pitiful he looked maybe it was how much you still loved him. but you nodded your head, allowing for satoru to explain. his sigh was audible, and some color returned to his eyes.

"okay, first, i love you so fucking much. i've loved you since that first night we met into the bar six years ago. if you don't forgive me tonight, or ever, i'm still going to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the hurt that i've cause you from that stupid article. i didn't cheat on you, not with utahime or with anyone else. i spent five years trying to work up the nerve to ask you out, i'm not going to let you go easily." satoru meant every word he said, his tone convinced you of that. "second," he continued, "is that the paparazzi are always pulling things out of their asses, we know this. the first photo they talked about, the one with me and utahime at per se, where we were holding hands? her heel had got caught on a sewer grate, and uta tripped. i grabbed her hand to prevent her falling on her face, which honestly, would've been funnier." you chuckled lightly, and a smile formed on satoru's lips. from his perspective, this was going much better than he had anticipated. "the next photo with my arm around her waist, utahime was so drunk, she could barely stand. i was pretty drunk, too. we were the only ones keeping each other up. same with the pictures of us outside the club on eighth. i wasn't as drunk in that one, but she was pretty hammered. i didn't feel comfortable just sending uta off in a cab back to her hotel. something easily could've happened to her, so i went back with utahime to her hotel. nothing happened between me and her," satoru finished. quiet settled over you two again as you contemplated his words.

everything he said made sense. you wanted to believe him so badly, but you weren't there yourself. "okay," you said slowly, after what felt like an eternity to satoru.

"okay? wh-what does that mean? does... does that mean you believe me?"

you took a deep breath. "i believe you."

those three words were all he needed to hear. satoru rushed over to you, his body engulfing you in a crushing embrace. "oh, thank god," he breathed into your hair. when he pulled back, his blue eyes were shining once again. satoru almost kissed you, forgetting his exhaustion, but your hangover still gripped at you. you winced at his strength, your arms hanging limply at your side. satoru whispered out an apology, guiding you back to bed. before you both finally found the sleep you desperately needed, you mumbled, "i'm sorry about the song."

satoru laughed quietly, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "don't be, i think it's your best one yet."

[cursedbeasts]

An illustrated guide to the Dread Masters

This will recap the complete story of the Dread Masters in the game Star Wars: the Old Republic. It is separate from both instances of my headcanon lore, which I think I will eventually make posts on as well. Just canon information, information from a few cut codex entries, and some minor speculation here.

I wrote this to have something to link to people instead of 10 separate wiki articles.

Also I hope it has a bit more flair than a wiki article!

The Dread Masters were a group of six Sith. They served Emperor Vitiate of the Sith Empire for over a thousand years.

Most Sith are wildly selfish and individualistic. The Dread Masters were unique in that they were strongest when they worked together. They only achieved full power when meditating in unison, and were bound together by a powerful Force Union.

About a thousand years ago, Emperor Tenebrae gathered six promising Sith together. He sent them to a remote moon called Oricon, to study the mysterious Phobis Devices.

The Phobis Devices were three artifacts imbued with the Dark Side of the Force. When activated, they drove everyone around them mad with fear. Only the strongest of Force Users were able to survive the onslaught and master what the Devices had to offer.

At some point during the following centuries, Emperor Tenebrae took the main Phobis Device, the Core, and entombed it within the Dark Temple.

The six Sith were the ones to succeed. They returned to Tenebrae, and from then on, they were known as the Dread Masters.

They made Oricon their home, and stayed there in seclusion unless Tenebrae had need of them.

Oricon

Oricon is a remote moon in an unnamed star system located in the Outer Rim, not far from the area known as the Seat of the Empire. It is volcanically active, and the Dark Side is strong there.

The Dread Masters weren't the first to set foot on Oricon. Before them, a Sith Alchemist named Darth Vitus made it his lair. He left behind monsters he created using Sith Alchemy.

The Dread Masters imported thousands of slaves to build their stronghold on Oricon, an intimidating palace surrounded by an elaborately constructed fortress. Dread Masters Brontes and Tyrans oversaw the construction, making sure the fortress is secure. The Palace sat on an island surrounded by a lake of lava, and the Fortress was the only means of entry. Elevated roadways connected the Palace to two smaller towers and an outpost on the mainland.

The slaves met a horrible fate. When the construction finished, they all were expended in Dark Side rituals and other horrific experiments in the depths of the very halls they toiled to build.

The Dread Masters

Raptus

Raptus, the most eloquent of the six, became the informal leader of the group. Haughty and vain, Raptus was quick to smite anyone who disrespected him or the Dread Masters. He was capable of convincing others to act against their very character with words alone.

His sanctum in the Dread palace was a narrow, somewhat claustrophobic throne room. When challenged, he transported the opponents to a series of platforms suspended in a gloomy abyss.

Bestia

Bestia was powerful, possibly the most powerful of the six in terms of raw strength in the Force, and ferocious. Long ago, she drew the Emperor's attention when, as a mere apprentice, she quelled a slave uprising all by herself. She became an enforcer of sorts, responsible for communication between the Dread Masters and the Emperor. She brought the Dread Masters' insights to him, and in return, brought the Emperor's orders back to the Dread Masters.

Her sanctum in the Dread palace, called Sanctuary of Dread, was a large room completely overgrown with corruption, with a throne in the middle. Corrupted beasts milled about.

Styrak was a Sith Alchemist of considerable strength. His cruel experiments claimed the lives of many sentient and beastly subjects. He was solitary, often embarking on excursions away from Oricon.

He seemed to be fond of Kell Dragons, smaller cousins of the legendary Krayts, often seen accompanied by one.

Calphayus had a family once. Family that he did not fear. The Dread Masters became his twisted new family, and he became the most powerful prophet of them all. He sees all, the past, the present, and the future. Because of that, his insights are often difficult to understand.

His sanctum was a lush garden once, an oasis on Oricon's otherwise gloomy surface. It is a stark contrast to the other known sanctums of the Dread Masters.

Tyrans was a shrewd tactician. He didn't speak unless he deemed it necessary. His favourite trick was to sow dissent and discord in enemy ranks and then watch them go after each other's throats.

He was involved in the construction of the Dread Fortress, laying many traps and making sure it is impregnable.

His sanctum within the Dread Palace was a duel chamber with a trap floor. The tiles winked in and out of existence on Tyrans's whim, forcing any training Dread Guard or intruder to be light on their feet lest they suffered an unpleasant fall.

Brontes was a scholar, and her focus was Dark Side artifacts. This field of study took its toll on her, and she doesn't remember much, if anything, about her past. Her title was the Architect of Fear, earned by contributing to the construction of the Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas, and, likely, the Dread Palace. Her writings can be found in the libraries of the Sith Academy on Korriban.

She also seemed to have a keen interest in cybernetic augmentation. Her creations roamed the Dread Fortress, and she herself is augmented with four mechanical tentacles that serve as both weapons and additional limbs.

The War and Capture

The Dread Masters stayed in seclusion on Oricon or in their sanctum on Dromund Kaas for centuries, emerging only to accept gifts from their followers and to bring visions to the Emperor.

Three centuries before the Galactic War, the Emperor brought them a new subject for their tortures: Revan, a hero who had been both Jedi and Sith. They had tried to kill Tenebrae and failed.

Even later, when the Galactic War set the galaxy ablaze, Emperor Tenebrae had the Dread Masters put to use. They traveled the galaxy aboard a dreadnought ship, never stopping to avoid capture. They were able to stop a Republic fleet dead in its tracks by seizing its crews with terror.

Despite all the measures, they didn't evade capture. The Jedi Order sent a team of its bravest, led by Master Jaric Caedan. They boarded the Dread Masters' ship and attacked the six Sith. The Dread Masters, deep in meditation, couldn't put up much of a fight aside from waves of fear they emitted.

The dreadnought was set to self-destruct, so the Empire believed the Dread Masters were killed.

The Dread Masters were imprisoned on the planet Belsavis, where the Republic had a secret prison. They were put in cells in the max security wing. However, their mere presence killed other inmates and living things in a considerable radius. The Republic drugged them to keep them docile, and had them transported even deeper into the prison and put in stasis pods.

Not everyone in the Empire believed the Dread Masters were dead. The Dread Guard, the Dread Masters' followers, learned of the Dread Masters' location, and mounted an attack in hopes to free them. They failed, their ship crashing in an area known as Section X, its cargo of Hunter Killer droids dormant.

After the Dread Masters were captured, the Empire and the Republic signed the Treaty of Coruscant, stopping the war, at least on paper.

Dread Masters, Freed

27 years have passed.

The location of the Belsavis prison was discovered by the Empire. And with that, they learned that the Dread Masters were very much alive. A team of Imperial champions ventured onto the planet's surface, picking up the pieces of a previous, unsuccessful attempt to free the Dread Masters.

Once freed, the Dread Masters set course for Dromund Kaas. There they discovered that the Emperor had been seemingly slain by a Jedi Knight. They also likely retrieved the Phobis Device from the Dark Temple while on Dromund Kaas.

Not seeing anyone worth listening to in the Empire, the Dread Masters returned to Oricon. They started drafting plans for an empire of their own. However, an empire needed territory and an army to defend it and to conquer more territory.

So the Dread Masters gathered their followers. They sent agents into both the Empire and the Republic to seek out those sympathetic to their cause. Most of the new recruits were mind-controlled by the Dread Masters, with the most promising becoming their acolytes.

The followers of the Dread Masters were split into two groups. The Dread Host were non-force users: former agents and soldiers of the Empire and, occasionally, the Republic. The Dread Guard were the Force Users, usually Sith, although a few Jedi have fallen to the side of the Dread Masters as well.

Their uniforms were those of the Empire, but instead of the customary black, they were red. Masks were very common among the Force users, ranging from simple ones to elaborate golden masks similar to those of the Dread Masters themselves. The golden masks appeared to be a higher rank signifier among the Dread Guard and the Dread Host.

The golden masks started without any crests, but grew more adorned as the Dread Guard climbed ranks.

The Dread Host and the Dread Guard seemed to be more welcoming to members of other species than the Empire, but the bulk of it was comprised of former Imperials. Besides, what relief was that, if many of the Dread Host were mind controlled by the Dread Masters?

A new Empire

Once the Dread Masters gathered their army, they struck out into the Hutt Space. They didn't want to attack the Empire and the Republic head-on, likely knowing that even with their mastery of the Force, they would be defeated. So they sought a weaker opponent to seize territory and resources from.

Dislodged from their territories, a faction of Hutts led by one Karagga, has expanded its reach into Imperial and Republic spaces. Teams were sent to Nal Hutta to stop him.

The second conflict between the Empire, the Republic, and, indirectly, the minions of the Dread Masters, took place on the planet Denova. A Trandoshan Warlord named Kephess was quite a challenge for the strike team. Along the way, the strike team began picking up troubling rumours about an enigmatic group called The Masters.

The mystery was solved when visions of the Dread Masters and resurrected Kephess appeared before the strike teams aboard their respective flagships. The Dread Masters used their power on the strike team, and announced that all will fall before them.

The Dread Masters were no longer working in the shadows.

The Dread Masters' forces returned to Belsavis, invading an area known as Section X. They were after a superweapon called the Aurora Cannon. Both Imperial and Republic forces formed camps in the area to stop the Dread Guard's progress.

A great beast named Dreadtooth roamed a desolated courtyard within Section X. Among the spoils that would be looted upon its defeat was a Dread Guard mask, and a mysterious amulet, likely belonging to a Dread guard the beast had killed.

The Dread Masters struck next on a planet called Asation. The world belonged to a species called the Gree. Once, they were among the most technologically advanced species in the Galaxy, alongside the Rakata, who built the Belsavis prison. Now, they are going through a period of decline, grasping for understanding of their own technology

The Dread Masters were after a Gree Hypergate, a piece of technology that allowed teleportation over great distances. A team of Dread Guards, led by Dread Guards Ciphas, Heirad and Kel'Sara, descended upon the surface.

Strike teams from the Empire and the Republic once again arrived on Asation. They fought through the monsters, the automatic defences, and the Dread Guards, only to come face to face with a resurrected Kephess. While they fought Kephess, the Hypergate was opened, luring out a giant tentacled monster, aptly named The Terror From Beyond.

To those who defeated Dreadtooth, looted an amulet from it, and donned the Dread Guard Mask, there was an additional challende to be uncovered.

Beneath the bridge where the three Dread Guards made their stand, there is a cave. Aspiring Dread Guards could venture inside it, and summon a dreadful entity, that would judge their merits. Only those wearing a golden Dread Guard mask survived its judgment.

Once the entity was defeated, it left behind an unsettling glass orb inscribed with glyphs and infused with Dark Side energy. Its purpose was a mystery.

The repeated failures of the Dread Masters' plans caused one of them, Styrak, to strike out on his own once again. He set his gaze on the planet Darvannis, an unremarkable world in the Hutt space region. A large gathering of underworld arms dealers and mercenaries was under way, and Styrak sought to corrupt them from within his lair near Oasis City. That way, the Dread Masters would gain both new recruits for the Dread Host, and a large amount of weapons and other supplies.

At the same time, the Dread Masters attacked the heart of the Empire.

Seeds of Rage and Dread

Long ago, they had constructed a vault aboard a space station called the Arcanum. The Arcanum was made to house the most dangerous of Sith artifacts. One such artifact was the Seeds of Rage.

The Seeds of Rage were created by Lord Fulminiss, a master of Sith Alchemy, with the sole purpose of corrupting other living beings. They were his crowning achievement. When placed near people or animals, the seeds warped them into violent monsters and tainted the environment.

The Dread Masters stole the seeds and buried them across the Galaxy.

The seeds were likely reverse engineered by the Dread Masters to derive a corruption known as the Dread Seed. Unlike the Seeds of Rage, Dread Seeds focused on heightening fear responses in those around them, and on corrupting the environment so that the very ground exudes fear.

Fall of Styrak

Meanwhile, Styrak's activity on Darvannis didn't go unnoticed. The huge underworld gathering drew the attention of the Empire and the Republic, who once again sent in strike teams to investigate.

They fought through underworld forces until they arrived at a hidden gorge. A throne was set up in the back, and one of the Dread Masters paced in front of it, accompanied by a fearsome Kell Dragon.

Styrak was behind everything. He set up the gathering so he could perform a ritual that would shatter the free will of the gathered mercenaries and arms dealers, securing manpower and weapons for the Dread Masters.

The strike team attacked Styrak and his Dread Guard acolytes. The Acolytes fell first. Then, Styrak's Kell Dragon jumped into the fray, biting and rending the attackers with its claws.

The Kell Dragon was struck down, enraging Styrak. He summoned a massive Force Storm and attacked the strike team personally. He sent nightmares and apparitions at them, and brought down lightning upon them. It was not enough. In the end, Dread Master Styrak lay dead next to his Kell Dragon and his acolytes.

Styrak's death tore through the Dread Masters' Force bond. Their plans of an empire were all but forgotten in the face of despair and pain and madness. Their plans now narrowed down to either finding a sixth to replace Styrak, or bringing destruction upon the Galaxy. They wanted death, to join Styrak in oblivion. And they wanted to take the Galaxy down with them.

Controlling the underworld gathering may not have been the only goal Styrak was pursuing on Darvannis. An ancient Sith tomb can be found in a cave near Oasis City. Within it dwells a presence. It can be summoned by providing it with weakened prey it could drain of its remaining life.

It is unknown who this hateful entity was. Upon defeat, it left behind an ornate mask similar to those of the Dread Masters. Likely, the entity was either another Sith who mastered the Phobis Devices, or even their creator. The First Dread Master. Styrak may have been trying to communicate with the entity.

Death of Dread

Shortly after Styrak's death, Oricon's location was discovered by Republic's Strategic Information Service. Chancellor Saresh of the Republic sent an entire fleet to Oricon, only for it to be torn apart by the Dread Masters' powers. The survivors established a small camp. The debris from the ships kept raining down on the moon's surface.

Following that fiasco, Darth Marr of the Dark Council, the defacto leader of the Empire since the Emperor's untimely demise, sent a small team to Oricon, led by one Lord Hargrev. The Empire lost contact with the team.

Both factions then sent hardened champions to Oricon, in hopes of salvaging both operations. Those were the same champions that stopped the Dread Masters before, and who killed Styrak.

The champions rescued survivors from the crashed Republic ships to bolster their ranks. They destroyed the Dread Seed terraforming devices that polluted the air and ground, and they defeated Brontes's corrupted beast.

They ventured into the guard tower, and, upon recovering a datacron held there, received a vision of the Dread Masters.

An Imperial champion received an invitation to become the sixth Dread Master. The Republic champion received an admission of Dread Masters' desire to die.

The way to the Dread Fortress was clear. The gates were open, and the strike teams gathered once again.

To get to the Dread Palace, they needed to fight through the formidable defences of the Dread Fortress.

Brontes herself met them at the approach to the Dread Palace. A hive of mechanical tentacles and a host of failed experiments were at her command. The team was merely a potential set of test subjects, until they weren't.

After a long, grueling fight, Brontes was defeated.

The strike team descended into the Dread Palace.

Grim halls unfolded before them, with four passages leading to each of the remaining Dread Masters' sanctuaries. A small army of Dread Guards stood between them and the Masters.

Dread Master Bestia was the first to challenge the intruders in her sanctum. Her corrupted beasts attacked them alongside Bestia herself. She fought fiercely, but fell nonetheless, retreating deeper into the Palace.

Tyrans was next, welcoming the strike team into his sanctum. Floor tiles disappeared out of existence, plunging the unlucky intruders into the water below. Fire traps activated, giving the strike team even less room to work with, while Tyrans himself teleported around.

After defeating Tyrans and Bestia, The strike team ventured into Calphayus's desolate garden. Since Styrak's death, it has fallen into disrepair, the plants growing wild and neglected and Dread seed corruption creeping in.

Calphayus forced visions of the past and future upon the attackers, moving through the timelines with grace. The strike team braved the visions, and defeated Calphayus and his acolytes.

Raptus was the last one standing. He met the strike team sitting on his throne. They were teleported into the abyss, where they faced challenges atop platforms suspended in the air. All the while Raptus relentlessly poured lightning upon them.

He, too, fell.

The Dread Masters made one last stand in the Dread Council chamber, attacking the strike team together. Even spirits of Brontes and Styrak and his Kell Dragon joined the fray.

In the end, it was not enough.

The Dread Masters fell.

The strike teams returned to their respective camps with news of victory.

The Empire raided the now empty Fortress and Palace, seizing the Dread Masters' research for its own use.

Meanwhile, Calphayus, the last surviving Dread Master, stumbled into the Republic camp. He was alone, his mask was lost, and his mind was clear for the first time in centuries. Republic's Champions took pity on him, and he was taken in by the Jedi order to be healed and evaluated. His fate is unknown after that.

Sources:

Wookiepedia's pages on the Dread masters, Oricon, and Phobis Devices

SWTORista's codex database for the Phobis Devices cut entry

Vulkk's dreadful \ hateful entity lore speculation

Vulkk's how to become a Dread Master guide

[raphaellight]

Mike vs Harvey: Genius and talent

Suits does present us Mike as a genius. Fotographic memory, mind capable of analyzing enourmous number of data in a span of minutes. He is also charming and fast-witted. A perfect lawyer.

And it was made a thing thruout most of the show. Mike is the Genius, the mind like no other. It would usually be a story about a scientist curing cancer or creating new technologies and exploring cosmos if it wasn't a show about lawyers.

And yet, by the end, Mike is not THE best lawyer there is. Even in his prime, Mike Ross never topped that one guy. The one that took it upon himself to mentor him.

How is it, that the Golden Child with superhuman brain can't top this man?

There are plenty of things to unpack. Just looking for a appropiate pic of Harvey I found an article discussing how to build confidence by emulating Harvey Specter. Suits isn't exacly the deepest show, but that one thing we can all realise on this particular fictional story. Brain power is not all there is.

Don't get me wrong, I do not sign under "there is no such thing as IQ, everyone is smart" ideas and Harvey is definitelly one of the smartest fictional characters. It just shows brain power doesn't always equals competence and greater talent doesn't always mean greater succes.

While Harvey can't recite hole passages of lawyers guide book he read 10 years ago or memorize hole aggrement down to a coma in ten minutes, his experience, lessons and passion he has for his craft make him excel at things brain power alone can't equate to. He reads people like books and knows exacly how to use it to judge the best business partners for decades in advance and how to convince said people to work with him. He has experienced enough to know when he can take a risk and bold enough to do it even against his own boss opinions. Even if Mike can quote all of the American corporate law, Harvey can quote enough of it needed to win any case he needs. And he is passionate enough that everyone knows he will do anything to win any case that comes his way.

I'm not here to give definitive answer on who's better lawyer. Seems like a contradiction to everything I wrote up until now, but at the end, Harvey specializes in corporate law where as Mike, driven by his idealistic ideas and need for helping others turns more towards lawsuits against unethical corporate practices, which he excells at. In later seasons, when Mike stops being MC, he is often referred as "jury charmer" or something like that, while Harver is "the closer" that rarely brings a case to actuall court. They have slightly different styles, take on different cases and, most important, have different motivations for practicing law.

A phew years back, a friend of mine told me to "stop focusing on whether or not can I understand a field and just enter it" when I voiced my own anxiety about finishing high school and putting myself on a more specialized carrier road. In the show about top of the top, lesson we need to take away is that, we can always fill in if we are passionate and hard working enough. Talent and genius can put people only so far ahead. Even Genius like Mike Ross can't top a man that puts his hole heart into something. And remember, both of them had to look for Louis Litt advice when they delt with finance law.

[palestinegenocide]

Losing the Prophetic

Marc H. Ellis

This week Jewish theologian Marc H. Ellis died at the age of 71 following an extended illness. Marc’s work strived to define a Jewish theology of liberation. His writing and speaking over several decades influenced a countless number of people all over the world, myself included.

We were very lucky to have Marc as a writer at Mondoweiss for several years where he wrote a column called Exile and the Prophetic. That name speaks to a great theme of Marc’s work: the battle between Empire and the prophetic within contemporary Jewish life.

For Marc, the prophetic, or the challenge to power, was the true meaning of Judaism. This is a topic he and I would debate. His belief in a Jewish particularity versus my admittedly secular belief in the universality of the call to justice (which in truth he would never deny). And yet, he would insist that it was this prophetic imperative that Jews are uniquely called to wrestle with, especially in the present age with the advent and domination of Zionism. In his first column for us he wrote, “The prophetic is our indigenous. It is exploding right before our eyes.” This is the story he told through the decades of his work.

To Marc, the true core of Judaism was being sacrificed at the altar of Zionism, or as he often called it Constantinian Judaism, the toxic marriage of religion with state power. If you ever saw him speak or read his writing you are likely familiar with the vision he would recount of imagining an Apache helicopter gunship flying out of a Torah ark during a sabbath service. As you can imagine his work is more relevant today than ever.

There is one article of his that we published more than 10 years ago that I’ve thought about often over the last 8 months of the Gaza genocide. In that article, titled “Burning Children,” Marc returned to one of the great themes of his work – how American Jewish life and theology has been shaped by the experience of the Nazi Holocaust and the challenge that Jewish oppression in Palestine presents to this worldview. In the article he references Rabbi Irving Greenberg who helped shape post-Holocaust Jewish theology in the U.S. and writes:

It was in a 1974 essay that Rabbi Greenberg first wrote about the burning children of the Holocaust as a challenge for the Jewish future. I have quoted this passage often: “After the Holocaust, no statement, theological or otherwise, should be made that is not credible in the presence of the burning children.” Rabbi Greenberg’s invocation of burning children came to life in a different way for me when I visited Palestinian hospitals during the first Palestinian Uprising in 1988 and 1989. There I saw Palestinians of all ages but mostly teenagers who had been shot by Israel’s “rubber” bullets. Some were struggling for life. Others were already brain dead. I visited with the parents and siblings of the injured. Above the beds were martyr photos of the children framed by kefiyas. After I left the hospitals, I wrote a poem about my experience. I used Rabbi Greenberg’s haunting word about burning children to express my experience in the hospitals. In the poem I asked if these Palestinian children weren’t, like the children of the Holocaust, burning too. I felt the Palestinian children I saw were in many ways “our” children. We share a common humanity as starters but for Jews I knew that their “burning” was our responsibility. Though unintended by Rabbi Greenberg, his Holocaust statement has broadened to include Palestinians who are “burning,” this time at the hands of Jews. What theological statement can we make about God that makes sense to the burning children of the Holocaust – and Palestine?”

And he ended the article, written in 2014:

Chastened by history, indeed, Jews are – by the Holocaust and now by Palestine. For in Gaza right now children are burning everywhere.

I thought about Marc often this past week as we published, and imagined the discussions we would have had. How can one not mourn and rage at the unimaginable crime of burning children after reading Reem Hamadaqa’s devastating recounting of the Israeli attack that killed 14 members of her family, or in the essential reporting Tareq Hajjaj shared from the massacre in Nuseirat refugee camp. In that report, 11-year old Tawfiq Abu Youssef told Mondoweiss, “I stayed under the rubble for hours. I did not think for a moment that I might survive and see life again. I had lived through death enough while I was under the rubble. That was death.” I imagine Marc would summon these stories to demonstrate the fight against empire remains central which is why the repression we face, even in the U.S. continues to deepen.

He would also be the first to point out that the prophetic, even if weakened, refuses to submit. I know he would have responded vigorously to Anna Rajagopal’s searing indictment of the discourse over “Jewish values,” and despite the Jewish community’s overwhelming embrace of “Empire Judaism” he would raise up those charting a different path forward.

One moment I will never forget with Marc was a conversation he and I had years ago, as I was editing one of his articles. He told me, whether we knew it or not, our work at Mondoweiss was documenting the end of Jewish ethical history. I was struck then at the power of the statement and remain so today. As I reflect on Marc’s passing this is not a responsibility I take lightly.

Marc will be missed deeply and yet it has never been more clear that his legacy and work will live on. As Marc would likely say, the prophetic cannot die. In fact, Marc told us as much in his own words, “The Jewish prophetic will survive; it will continue to accompany and haunt those Jews who enable and perpetuate injustice against Palestinians.”

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

WIP Re-Intro: Herald At Dawn

Title: Herald at Dawn

Genre: Steampunk fantasy murder mystery

Status: 30k, draft 0 mostly finished

POV: Third person limited, multiple POVs

Setting: A steampunk city called Volimere, loosely based on victorian/edwardian london. Fashion is 1890s based, technology is, uh, wherever I think is coolest before the 1940s. Technically, its set in september & october of 1891, but thats largely because any later and the sleeves on women’s shirts get unmanageable. 

Universal TW/CW: Murder, corruption, legal systems being really really shit at their job, implied homophobia, cheating/affairs on spouses (past), bribery, death, implied past sexual assault, severe injury

Plot/Synopsis: 11 years ago a woman named Marisol Ekker was murdered by the wife of her son's father, Evelyn Belmont. Despite all evidence, Evelyn Belmont was acquitted and faced no punishment. Nearly a decade later, investigative reporter Alexandrina McLelland approached Marisol Ekker's son, Nathaniel Ekker--who was 12 at the time of her death--, to write an article about the corruption in the case. It is published in The Clockwork Herald, the newspaper where Alexandrina works, and exposes the dirty laundry of one of the city’s wealthiest families, the Belmonts. Soon after a string of murders begins. At first suspicions point to someone entirely unconnected with the Ekker trial or Alexandrina’s article, but as the pressure mounts (and the danger gets much closer to home), it becomes clear that the article and the deaths are far more connected than anyone initially thought.

Main Characters & Important Side Characters (Character Into links to be added):

Alexandrina "Alex" McLelland. 31, she/her, aroace. Investigative reporter at The Clockwork Herald and the narrator for this story (most of the time. sometimes there's another narrator)! Possesses a strong sense of justice and a weak sense of self preservation. Firmly believes in pockets. She wants to finish what her father started and expose the crimes of the city’s wealthy and powerful. This is, unfortunately, going rather slowly.

James Blakely. 32, he/him, gay, editor at the Herald. Alex's childhood friend, and Leo's partner. Is best described as a golden retriever with anxiety. He worries too much for his own good. James inherited editor-ship of the herald from his uncle 10 years ago, but he had been working there in various capacities since he was a teenager.

León "Leo" Rivera. 33, he/him, bisexual & bilingual. Writes the pages on politics at the Herald & is James' partner. Leo wrote the original articles on the Ekker trial 11 years ago; he used to be a court reporter. He does his best to not get hurt by his job, but sometimes he’s terrible at it (Chapter 10. Chapter 10 is when he’s really, really terrible at it. Though to be fair it is not in any way his fault). 

Nathaniel Ekker. 23, he/him, queer. Tailor, and the son of the woman whose murder was the focus of the Ekker trial. He agreed to do Alex's article on the condition it would be anonymous (and it was). He was 12 when his mother was killed by his father’s wife. His aunts raised him, and he only returned to Volimere 4 years ago t0 reopen his mother’s shop. 

Arthur Hall. 30, he/him, cishet. Investigative reporter at the Volimere Daily, and Alex's (mostly friendly) rival. Also one of her closest friends. Despite this, they have a lot of disagreements. He was supposed to co-write the article with her but ended up not doing that.

Ronald Wilks. 65, he/him, bisexual & polyamarous. Sports & Entertainment reporter at The Clockwork Herald. He used to work with Alexandrina’s father (Donovan), before Donovan died. He was not supposed to be as plot relevant as he is and I do not have a lot to say about him (yet).

Taglist maintained below the cut, ask to be added or removed!

@thelaughingstag @gr3y-heron @another-white-void @amethyst-aster @akindofmagictoo

[coochiequeens]

I don't need to convince women on radblr that TRAs hate feminists because we work to safeguard women’s spaces from creepy men. But the media downplays that TRAs hate us for defending spaces with children and minors from creepy men.

By Reduxx Team. November 10, 2023

An Australian politician who shouted down a women’s rights campaigner for speaking out against gender ideology is under investigation amid allegations of child sexual abuse. Johnathan Davis, 31, was one of the only openly-gay politicians in the Australian Capital Territory (ACT).

Davis has been the Member for the Tuggeranong seat of Brindabella, first elected to the ACT Legislative Assembly in 2020 with the ACT Greens Party. According to his political profile, which is still functional on the ACT Greens website as of the writing of this article, he was also the party spokesperson for a number of portfolios, including LGBTQIA+ Affairs, Young People, Family and Domestic Violence, and Drug Harm Reduction.

Davis was known for his vocally pro-“queer” stance, and archived versions of his now-deleted social media profiles show he identified himself as a “queer man” using “he/him” pronouns multiple times over the years.

But the ACT Greens have now referred Davis to police over serious allegations involving two teenage boys, one aged 17 and one aged 15. A complaint about Davis’ sexual conduct with the 15-year-old alleged victim was reportedly brought to the attention of Greens leader Shane Rattenbury on Monday, though some are claiming that party officials had been made aware of Davis’ behavior as long as 4 years ago.

Earlier this year, Davis was involved in the counter-rally against British women’s rights campaigner Kellie-Jay Keen, who had stopped in Canberra as part of her international Let Women Speak Tour. Keen’s rallies, which are iterations of the popular Speakers Corner talks she often hosts in the United Kingdom, seeks to encourage women to speak about how gender ideology has impacted their lives.

During the Canberra rally, Keen’s side was persistently interrupted by hundreds of trans activist protestors, who shouted down speakers and held signs bearing threatening slogans.

At one heated point during the rally, former Greens Senator Abigail Thorpe aggressively rushed Keen while draped in an Aboriginal flag. Thorpe was quickly taken down by Keen’s security, and later claimed she was ‘pulverized’ by police. She also stated that Keen, who she referred to as a “filth being,” should not be allowed to speak on Aboriginal land.

Following news of Davis’ resignation, many women’s rights campaigners took to X (formerly Twitter) to express their lack of surprise.

“That’s exactly what this is about – women asking for basic rights and child safeguarding and these men are using the ‘gender’ movement to discredit us. Their motives are clear – now when are other women going to see it,” one user said.

“I take it ‘guilt by association’ doesn’t apply here then? That all these trans aren’t pedophile too? Or is that just neo-nazis and women’s rallies? Funny how the media works,” another wrote, referring to a separate incident in which those who attended Keen’s Melbourne rally were accused of being “nazis” due to the unrelated appearance of neo-Nazis in the area at the time of her event.

While ACT Greens leader Shane Rattenbury has insisted he has seen no evidence of criminal wrongdoing, he has admitted that the allegations, if proven true, would be legally actionable.

[nedlittle]

I will never not be unwell about your post about Alyosha that you tagged “when you lose someone you love like that you have to create a way for them to never die” because HE. Also where did the whole idea of Alyosha kills the tsar come from? I read the book over a year ago so there might be some stuff I’m forgetting

i had to go back and find that post bc i was shocked that i was coherent enough about fedya d to articulate a single thought

in the author's preface, dostoevsky says "that while i have just one biography, i have two novels. the main novel is the second one--about the activities of my hero in our time, that is, in our present, current moment." (page 3 in the p&v translation)

the first novel is tbk proper, which takes place 13 years ago, placing it in 1866. our main source for tbk 2: alyosha kills the tsar comes from an article by james l. rice called "dostoevsky's endgame: the projected sequel to the brothers karamazov" which references a letter dostoevsky wrote during the novel's serialization:

"i can only say that aleksei in time becomes the village schoolmaster and, influenced by some sort of special psychological processes at work in his soul, he actually arrives at the idea of assassinating the tsar."

of course, dostoevsky died months after tbk was published in its complete form, at a time when people were trying to assassinate alexander ii, like, every two weeks. so that's our source for tbk: electric boogaloo existing. the other big source is from a guy named aleksei sergeevich suvorin, one of dotoevsky's friends, whose diary was published in 1923. here's him on the subject:

"he [alyosha] would commit a political crime. he would be executed. he would have sought the truth and in those seekings he would, naturally, have become a revolutionary."

we also know that the provisional title for tbk 2: who gave the baby a gun was "the children", referring to the titular boys of book 10 of tbk. according to dostoevsky's widow anna, alyosha "was to endure a complex psychological drama with lise [...] marry [her], then leave her for grushenka"*. there's more about how this sequel would work on a thematic and psychological level in the article and its sister article "foreshadowing the karamazov sequel" (also by rice). this isn't relevant but rice essentially diagnosis alyosha with victorian woman disease by calling him a "textbook case of male hysteria," which i enjoy.

so that's all we know about the hypothetical sequel, and i think about it a lot regarding a biographical reading of the novel because i think it's so interesting to take a character, based on your son who died of a hereditary disease you gave him, who you say is "like an angel, nothing touches [him]," and then plan a sequel where he is not untouchable and undergoes the same disillusionment and trauma as you experienced as a young man, only he dies in the end. and that's not even getting into the other biographical details like dostoevsky's own father dying under mysterious maybe-murder circumstances in 1839! or the fact that he looked at the loathsome father-figure he created for tbk whose hereditary "stain" he passes down to his sons as a black smear over their name and was like yeah i'm going to name him after ME. fyodor what was going on in your head.

i don't know, i sort of want to make a whole other post about this. he created a world in which his son survives and is loved so desperately by everyone he meets, but even still cannot save him, even in fiction. something something sons doomed to become their fathers.

tl, dr:

*this is from the rice article but is specifically referencing nina hoffman's interview with anna in 1898.

[grandhotelabyss]

“I have a Ph.D. that is essentially what a B.A. used to be, and a B.A. that is essentially what a high-school diploma used to be” How did this decline happen? I’ve been grappling with it as I finish my own bachelors, and have increasingly come to realise how worthless most of my education (barring a few god courses) has been. And I’ve spent fifteen-odd years in which I had maximum brain plasticity just being conned, and now it feels like it’ll take at least fifteen more years of hard dedicated effort to get to what still feels like a basic level of understanding.

And after that, I can barely share it with anyone because no one else even realises they’ve been scammed, let alone cares enough to put in the effort to fix it. Like that post you linked that starts with “I think the most depressing fact about humanity is that during the 2000s most of the world was handed essentially free access to the entirety of knowledge and that didn’t trigger a golden age”, I agree with a lot of points in the article but it’s also that no one my age (and frankly no more than one or two of my fifteen or so professors from the last four years, indicating to me that the rit goes way further back) gives a single shit — it doesn’t even rise to the level of nihilism (to misquote Lebowski, “at east it’s an ethos!), or even apathy, it’s just this fucking void. lol but I still love to learn so I’m okay for now

Paradoxically, too much information is as good as no information. You'll learn more history from one book than from an overwhelming set of shelves. I think Pound said somewhere you'd be better educated if you knew 10 great books well than 1000 books casually, or something like that. (He also said culture is what's left when you forget what you've read. I think that's exactly right. Then again one can't agree with everything Pound said.) Another one-word answer is "democratization." Serious education was once reserved for what was at least notionally an all-male aristocracy of clerics or warriors. Once you start letting people like me or George Eliot in on it—genetically speaking, I should be farming the stony hills of Abruzzo like my great-grandfather, and she should have been rearing the children of a Midlands estate manager like her father, and neither of us should ever have learned the name Spinoza—then it's probably inevitable that the curriculum is going to change in its temper and emphases. The loss of ancient languages and of any coherent historical narrative at all is regrettable, but we know many other things—things they, the old elites, didn't know at all, even if we're weak on our Latin and Roman history, o tempora, o mores!

The ultra-left communist Loren Goldner, whose website Break Their Haughty Power I used to like to peruse years ago when I should have been learning Latin and Roman history out of a book, died this year. (I found him because he would place ads for his wonderfully eccentric self-published book Herman Melville: Between Charlemagne and the Antemosaic Cosmic Man in the back of The Nation or Harper's or suchlike circa 2004.) In 1995—1995!—he wrote an essay called "The Online World Is Also On Fire: How the Sixties Marginalized Literature in American Culture (and Why Literature Mainly Deserved It)." There he wrote, and here I'll end, though in another mood I'd disagree with this vociferously, that what has displaced centralized traditional learning is a dispersal of micropolitical erudition, history as the breaking of the vessels:

The 60’s were a vast return of the repressed, something like Aschenbach’s dream at the end of Death in Venice, whose repercussions have by no means played themselves out. There was a vast stretching of the culture’s sensibilities, which pre-empted the traditional role of art in that stretching, precisely because much of it originated in the art world of the previous avant-garde The result has been an explosion of books on subjects unimaginable 30 years ago. Take the works of the gay historian John Boswell on medieval Christianity and homosexuality; they are almost literally inconceivable without the Stonewall riots. One could find hundreds of similar books, of uneven quality, on the history of every one of the cultural taboos shattered by the 60’s. Again, one can be more or less enthusiastic about the intellectual climate unleashed by “cultural studies”, but they are just one example of the kind of opening of the “doors of perception” that has occurred, with which few novels compete. The idea that novels convey to us an irreplaceable feel for daily life is unfortunately confined to the times and places in which novels were written, which is pretty limited historically and geographically. In an hour in a high-quality bookstore one can find massive studies of Shi’ite theology and its impact on Iranian history, the social history of Memphis in late antiquity, Amazonian shamanic medicine, Jewish mysticism in 13th century Barcelona, the impact of alchemy on the history of science in the West, the 16th and 17th century utopian millennia in the New World, the role of transported radical political convicts in the formation of 17th century Jamaica, Ifa divination, 17th century Andean resistance to Spanish colonialism, 18th century Aleppo, the architecture of Barabudur, and T’ang aesthetics, (and these are just subjects that leap to mind) and about which next to nothing was widely available prior to the 60’s. Lionel Trilling never heard of such things, and that’s too bad for Lionel Trilling, and the cramped reality he represented. The novel and poetry are not merely competing with on-line reality, they are competing with the growing discovery of realms of history more fantastic than anything that could have been made up.

[eretzyisrael]

Wearing a baseball hat and a large winter coat, Rabbi Mendy Chitrik from Istanbul can be seen in a video that he shared on Twitter, rescuing ancient Torah scrolls and parchment from the Torah Ark in the damaged synagogue of Antakya following the earthquake.

Antakya has a rich Jewish history of 2,500 years and the synagogue in the city is about 250 years old. Chitrik told The Jerusalem Post on Tuesday that "together with the Jewish community of Turkey, I have arrived to assist with the rescue of citizens in Antakya, so we also made sure to rescue ancient Torah scrolls from this Jewish community that has been in existence for 2,500 years."

Chitrik and the Turkish Jewish community have rescued eight scrolls and said that "the synagogue is damaged but as opposed to other buildings in the area, is still standing." 

According to an Aljazeera article from 2014, there were only 18 members left from this rich and ancient Jewish community that numbered about 350 people 80 years ago.

Chitrik confirmed that all of the remaining Jews that live in Antakya have been rescued except for two who are still missing. All of the remaining Jewish inhabitants of Antakya are senior citizens.

In 2021, Chitrik visited Antakya and reported on his Twitter account that there are only 14 Jews left in the city.

"There is no Minyan (10 Jewish men that pray together) in Antakya anymore," he wrote. "There are only 14 Jews left, 7 of them are men, in the city that once boasted a very significant community." He spoke to a member of the community, named Olga Cemal who moved to Antakya from Damascus Syria. She told him that there were "at least 500 people who lived here," when she moved. 

Antakya is located close to the border with Syria and therefore many of the Jews who lived there were Syrian immigrants. The synagogue building in the city was erected in 1890, according to a book titled Historic synagogues of Turkey that was published in 2008. In addition, it was specified that since Antakya is north of Jerusalem, the synagogue is built with the Torah Ark on the southern wall "in a semi-circular apse." It is customary that synagogues in Israel and outside of Israel, face Jerusalem.

Jewish communities rush to help out Turkey following the earthquake

Jewish communities in the US and Canada have launched campaigns in support of Turkey following Monday's devastating earthquake.

Jewish Federations of North America Board Chair Julie Platt said, “we mourn the tragic loss of life brought by this disaster and send our hopes and prayers for all those who have been injured. We remain in close contact with our disaster relief partners on the ground and are mobilizing our communities to raise funds to support their life-giving work. Our Jewish values of tikkun olam guide us day-in and day-out to extend our hands to those in need, and Jewish Federations pledge to carry out this mandate with pride and dignity."

The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington has opened an Earthquake Relief Fund to provide vital aid to those in need. Through the fund, the Federation and its global partners will directly reach victims to help them rebuild and recover. “As a Jewish community, it is our sacred obligation to respond,” said The Jewish Federation of Greater Washington CEO, Gil Preuss.

[nanamicide]

ur not being annoying at all! gimme some : 🎁 💕 🌻 📗 💭 💡 📚 🤖 💛 💌 🎨 (dont have to do them all, just do the ones you wanna!)

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

This needs to be heavily edited but this is from a sukufushi fic I've been veryyyy slowly working on:

Sukuna's heart stops as he catches sight of the person so delicately playing this score. 

It's hardly even been a second since he's laid his eyes on him, but every cell in his body is already starving for more of him. 

Sukuna swallows thickly, carefully taking in the scene unfolding before him. Long, coordinated fingers dance across the piano, hitting the keys with a grace Sukuna would have never imagined to be humanly possible. The pianist’s body moves to the rhythm of the [adjective] tune, dark strands of hair gently swaying across his forehead as [something more movement]. 

Their gazes finally meet, and Sukuna knows he's done for. His heart loudly thumps against his ribcage, threatening to burst through as green eyes further capture him into the moment they're sharing, driving him deeper into the shadows the pianist is painting with the [adjective] sound of his music. Sukuna feels as though he's lost in a sea of darkness, the glint in the pianist’s eyes [something akin to a lighthouse making him feel safe]. He lets the [adjective] chords (of the score? Of the music? Of the piece? Idk) crash against him like tidal waves, making him drift further from the shore.

💕 What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

That's a difficult one, but probably sweetest blossoms, which I wrote for my friend Asa. I'm usually not into historical AUs but she requested one, and I surprisingly had a lot of fun writing it and look back on the process pretty fondly.

🌻 How often do you read your own fics?

Never tbh (unless proofreading to edit counts). If I read my own fics I would probably end up deleting them out of self doubt so I just let them sit there on ao3 for people to enjoy lmao

📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

Not really, unless non-fiction books or articles about my professional field count.

💭 What inspires you and your writing?

It's mostly the media I consume that inspires me, whether it's music or anime/manga I'm watching/reading. Sometimes I'm also inspired by some stuff that happens to me irl or situations I'm in (there's a particular wip I'm working on that comes to mind when I say this, and if you end up reading it and know enough about me you'll probably catch it whenever I post that, lol).

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

10 that I know for sure I'm not gonna end up scrapping. More if you count the ones that are on the fence, but I don't wanna go there 🤪

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

For Barakamon, I recommend ahknee (@misocucumber) always, especially this fic.

Other fics that have really stuck with me are run the red out by saltwreath for inuokko, the proper care of lilacs by teasomnia for sukufushi, anything by ietjesiobhan for haikyuu. And there was this one fake dating kuroken fic that I read a while ago, in which Kuroo and Kenma broke up years ago but never told anyone and get invited to kagehina's wedding and decide to pretend they're still dating for the occasion, but I can't remember the author or title and I don't have time to look for it rn, but that one stuck with me for a long time.

There are so many I'd like to recommend, I should really start coming up with rec lists.

🤖 Are non-fandom friends aware that you write fanfic?

Only my partner and a handful of online friends (i met them in anime circles i guess they could count as fandom friends as well, but they're not into it like that so idk)

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

That it doesn't need to be perfect on the first try, and that a draft is just that—a draft. You can always come back to edit it later and improve the things you don't like; that doesn't make you a bad writer or untalented, everyone does that.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

Mutual pining with 2 idiots who think the other would never be into them

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I honestly don't have a preference, if someone were to make fanart of my work I'd be eternally grateful regardless of the fic or scene the artist would pick!

[atariaction]

Kay’s 2023 Wrapped

Well, that about wraps it up for 2023, which means it’s time for my letter summarizing the computer history work that I did in the past year. I’ve been writing these letters since 2016, making this my eighth annual letter. I wish I had started this tradition in 1996, the year that my computer history efforts began when I launched the Digital Antic Project, which grew into Classic Computer Magazine Archive.

My goal this year was to publish six interviews on Antic: The Atari 8-Bit Podcast. I published just one. (It was a good one, with Rodrigo Castro about Atari in Chile. Why not six? My Internet Archive work and, simply, a lack of momentum on interviews. Once the process is going, it’s going! But getting that engine re-started is hard.) My goal for 2024 is to publish 15 interviews, which I fully expect to actually do. Between us over the years, Randy Kindig and I have published 436 interview episodes on Antic. Our collective goal is to reach 500 by the end of 2025. So to keep my end of the bargain, that means I’ll publish 15 interviews in 2024.

Scanning, though! I turned all sorts of rare paper material into easily-searchable digital material at Internet Archive. I scanned a lot of Atari newsletters, including many from Hughes El Segundo Employees Association Atari Computer Enthusiasts, South Bay Atari Computer Enthusiasts, and West LA Atari Users Group.

In other scanning news — let’s talk about MicroTimes. MicroTimes was a California-focused computer magazine that was published from 1984 through 1999. It was there in the thick of it, published in the state that brought us Silicon Valley. I wrote for MicroTimes for a few years starting in 1992. So I am especially proud of this: 41 issues of MicroTimes magazinewere added to Internet Archive in 2023, bringing the collection to 62 issues. Here’s the long-story-short summary of 10 years of effort: I made this happen. I willed it to happen. More issues will be added in 2024.

I also added two more books to the collection of Russ Walter’s Secret Guide To Computers at Internet Archive. The newest additions are hard-to-find editions from 1976, about BASIC programming and computer applications.

My Scantastix project (if you don’t know what that is, here’s a short article describing it) did some great work: we scanned 321 items totaling 22,577 pages. The scans include some rare Microsoft material, even rarer pamphlets and manuals for Compucorp computers (have you ever heard of them? The computer that came with them is on its way to Vintage Computer Federation) and so many Apple II manuals. Check out all the latest additions here.

Also, a weird scanning side-quest happened this year: My friend Cabel Sasser handed me a pile of more than 50 DAK catalogs, which I scanned for him, then he wrote a blog post about them that blew up the Internet for a few days. It’s a fun read.

Once again, I processed and edited videos of the presentations at Vintage Computer Festival West 2023and VCF East 2023. And I helmed a project to rescue audio from VCF West 2003. These were recordings that were made of talks twenty years ago, then the tapes were lost, then found, then given to me, then it turned out that the tapes were recorded terribly. It took a small team of people to get any sound at all from those tapes then turned into something listenable. They include the voices of C. H. Ting, Jef Raskin, John Ellenby, and Gary Starkweather, who have all passed since these were recorded.

When I interview a programmer, I ask the person if they have any source code. I interviewed Jay Jaeger, creator of the Atari Program Exchange version of Space War, in 2016. At the time he said he had the source code… somewhere. I contacted him from time to time to ask about that source code. (I have a “nag list” of people that I contact from time to time to ask them about some material or other.) Patience and persistence paid off. Just a few days ago, in December 2023, he found the assembly language source code and sent it to me to share.

A bit of personal archiving: I write for Juiced.GS magazine, which focuses on the Apple II. I uploaded all of the articles I've written for Juiced to Internet Archive, spanning 2015–2022. There are some interviews, some product reviews, and some nice little reminisces about the old days of microcomputers. (I released them under a Creative Commons license, so if you want to republish an article in a non-commercial computer club newsletter or something like that, go for it. My agreement with the magazine says that they get exclusive rights to articles for a year. So my 2023 articles will be shared online a year from now. In the mean time, it’s a good magazine: if you like Apple II, subscribe!)

My work at Internet Archive as the curator of the Digital Library of Amateur Radio & Communications is certainly one of the reasons I’ve had less time and energy for computer archiving. 2023 was my first full calendar year in this role. I hit my one-year anniversary in August! But there’s sometimes a nice overlap between the two efforts. For instance, in 2023 I archived several ham radio related programs for Atari computers and a few for DOS machines and even a handful for CP/M that were rescued from 8-inch floppy disks.

There’s something else, something that I’ve been teasing for years. In my 2018 letter I wrote “There’s a particular archiving project happening in 2019 that is really big and really important for microcomputer history. I’m not ready to talk about it, but hold your breath and cross your fingers.” Then at the end of 2019 I wrote: “That project depends on the help of one person who has been battling ongoing health issues. It is still very much at the front of my mind, and *crosses fingers* will move ahead this year.” It didn’t, and it couldn’t, but with patience and persistence, it’s finally happening. It’s already started, and I can’t wait to have something amazing to show you in 2024. Keep holding your breath and crossing your fingers just a little while longer.

If you support my archiving work on Patreon, thank you! Also please consider making a tax-deductible donation to Internet Archive, the non-profit online library that hosts all of my scans and interviews.

I hope we all have a pleasant and productive 2024. May your patience and persistence pay dividends.

[mitchipedia]

That time Heather Armstrong roasted me on her popular blog, dooce

I mentioned yesterday that I interviewed Heather Armstrong, who wrote the blog dooce and that she later wrote about how excruciating the experience was for her.

Armstrong took her own life this week. She was talented, funny, and insightful, and she helped invent professional blogging, which led to today’s social media influencers and indie journalists.

I was not offended by the piece Armstrong wrote after I interviewed her in 2006. I thought it was a fair rap. However, I was disappointed that I’d set out to interview someone I admired, and that person had found the experience horribly painful.

Yesterday, I said I was unable to locate Heather’s blog post, but a friend online found it and sent me the link this morning:

On being a total nutjob

A few weeks ago Jon and I gave an interview to an IT magazine for an article about accidental entrepreneurship. They wanted to know how this website now pays our mortgage when I originally started it so that I could make obnoxious fart jokes online. Short answer: I had to give a lot of head.

It was a phone interview, and they recorded it so that they could incorporate it into a podcast (when it’s posted I’ll link to it here), and I can honestly say that I have never been more uncomfortable giving an interview. One, it was only a couple days after I had discovered that someone I thought was a very cool person was making viciously mean comments about me in a public forum, and every time I answered a question into the phone I could hear in my head how this person would make fun of the way I said things. Two, in order to make sure that they had a clean edit for the podcast, the guy conducting the interview wouldn’t say anything for at least 10 seconds after I answered a question, and that disorienting pause made me think that my thrilling discourse had bored him into a coma.

Here’s the article that followed from that interview. It’s … fine. Not my best work, but not bad either.

Accidental Tech Entrepreneurs Turn Their Hobbies Into Livelihoods. InformationWeek interviewed five accidental entrepreneurs, including the founders of del.icio.us and Digg and the author of the blog Dooce, to find out how they freed themselves from the paycheck-to-paycheck grind.

The article I wrote is perhaps notable today as a time capsule of Internet history. I also interviewed Joshua Schachter, the co-founder of a bookmarking site called del.icio.us; Kevin Rose, who co-founded digg; Mena Trott, co-founder of Six Apart, the company behind Movable Type, LiveJournal, and TypePad; and Tom Davis, author of personal information manager software called Zoot, which is similar in mission to more recent applications like Evernote and Microsoft OneNote. (I’m pleased to see that Zoot Software is still around.)

I did a brief follow-up article a few years later, focusing on Armstrong alone: Maytag Crosses Popular Blogger, Gets Spun Dry. I talked at the end about how I felt about reading Armstrong’s article about our interview.

News of Armstrong’s death this week shook me in the same way Anthony Bourdain’s death shook me. Like Bourdain, she was struggling with demons, and the demons beat her.

I can’t help thinking that her living so much of her life in public, sharing her insecurities and self-loathing with millions of people, was not helpful to her mental state. And I need to think about how that relates to my own online habits.

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

Wife Guys

In the Before Times, before I left the old blog, I read this article about Wife Guys, and there's no way I can find it now, but I wrote a post attached to the article, which was written about a small group of celebrity men who built an image at least partially on how much they loved and adored their wives. So I wrote this as an agreement/response. Back then...like last September when I could still tolerate a blog with 1500ish followers:

This isn’t just a Celebrity Straight Man trend. This has been going on with Regular Joe Straight Men for at least the same amount of time, at least since social media has been common in people’s lives. About 10 years ago when J and I were still on Facebook, what I think was the leading Performative Social Media of the time, we had contact with some folks we’d have normally naturally faded away from: elementary school classmates and co-workers from previous jobs…you know. Before social media, not in a necessarily callous way, but in just a That’s Life sort of way, we’d have naturally not thought much about those people, particularly in our everyday lives, but because of Facebook (and now Instagram, Twitter, etc.), these people WERE in our everyday lives to a degree. (This isn’t a post about social media control, but yeah, I know you can block and unfollow people or choose not to friend them, or whatever…but here in Anonymousland it’s different than places where people know that your first grade classmate you ate lunch with or the person who worked at the desk next to you for 5 years ignored or blocked you with intention…that’s a different post). So we got to see men perform I Love My Wife a lot on Facebook. And we got to see the wives feed this too.

Wife Guy: Look at my gorgeous wife! <photo of her playing with kids, patting a dog, from a long time ago, carrying groceries, flipping him the bird, whatever>

Wife Guy: My wife made the best dinner tonight! <photo of hamburger helper or crockpot chili or something...not that there's anything wrong with eating that stuff or making that stuff...maybe it's his favorite and that's a valid favorite and celebrating everyday shit is what I'm all about, but the point is...the dinner doesn't matter...what matters is MY WIFE>

Wife Herself: Look at what Wife Guy got me for my birthday/our anniversary/something! <photo of jewelry, a big floral arrangement, fancy dinner out, concert tickets, a fucking car, whatever...again, the point isn't the shit she got, it's that I'm Married To Wife Guy Who Loves His Wife>

I admit I posted stuff on Facebook when I was still there that was positive about J too, just like I do here. But J’s not a social media guy. Shit, he’s not even a very verbal guy, usually. And like…friends of mine who knew J and I were happy; saw us in person being happy…started to doubt J’s love for me because he wasn’t being a Wife Guy on Facebook. I don’t want to generalize in reverse here. I’m sure some of these Celebrity Wife Guys and Facebook Regular Joe Wife Guys did/do love their wives for real. I gush about J all the time and that’s real for me. I love him and I tell him to his face all the time but sometimes that’s not enough for me and I get on here and write about it for other people and then I make up imaginary people and project J and me onto them. Like…I’m A Lot Sometimes, and I get that. I’m a sappy romantic. I eat this shit up! I really do. I literally run on it! No joke. So maybe there are some guys out there like me. Fair. Not trying to be a generalizing asshole here, I promise. And maybe there’s a part of me who wants to believe these dudes are sincere because I am, because I like sincerity, because I’m a hopeful optimist, because I AM that sappy romantic who runs on this kind of stuff (when it’s real), because who doesn’t want it to be true, right? But in my personal experience and what this article brings up about the Celebrity Guys Who Do This Shit? Wife Guys actually seem like they are the ones who maybe don’t even like their wives. And they are trying to convince other people in their lives, the general public (if they’re famous), or even THEMSELVES that they do for some kind of credit or gain. Hell, the celeb dudes are getting money and talk show bookings and formal publishing contracts and shit from it but even the Regular Joe Wife Guys are getting Credits. Feminist Man Credits. My Wife’s Family and Friends Adore Me Credits. I’m Making Other Husbands Look Bad Credits. And they are cashing them in. Believe me. But of the guys we know who did it? Divorced, divorced, divorced, divorced now. 4/4 divorced. J though? Who never posts shit about me? We’re still going strong headed into our 20th year together. The real shit is…most hetero guys who are married *and don’t make a goddam fuss about it for public (whatever your definition of public is) consumption* DO love their wives (and families/kids/etc.). J does. My best guy friends do. They don’t usually talk about it all the time though. Most of them are too busy actually loving their wives to talk about it all the time, I’m pretty sure.

[versussystem2]

TM GAME TOURNAMENT MAGAZINE ANNOUNCEMENT 03

Announcement 02 Recaps Announcement 02 is posted up on October 10, 2024 (7 days ago). I recaps about the time while living with my father. Also, the church members and nurses who visited him in our house. Then, I continue writing about when he pass away on 2020. Also, how his passing away have effected my life.

Painful Truth Recaps On 2004 my sister, Hong Lieng Lam pass away. I'm trying very hard to deny that bringing up her name would create more arguments to my life. By 2004, I have been a Mission Bay High School (MBHS) Journalism reporter for 3 years from 2001 to that point of time, 2004. So, reporting News and writing articles had been a routine in my life. Nevertheless, a week before she pass away, she slap me in the face in front of the whole family. The reason is because I told her secret to our parents, Chung Wun Lam and Sok Nghim Hoi. My reason is I was being pressured by obligated to my reporter position, so I thought I need to reveal her secret to our parents. The argument is it is a hard life lesson for me. Example: A life lesson in exchange for a life of my sister. On 2009, Lieng's death is happening again. This time is me. This mean I supposed to kill myself. Or, I would wish I have killed myself. Example: I could only think of 100s of ways why I should kill myself. I can't think of anyway why I don't kill myself. Coincidentally, on that same year, 2009, an International Student who have transferred from Asia to USA to enrolled in the Design Institute of San Diego (DISD). Have created a miracle in my life. The miracle is people in my life would make fun of me for not able to be around the female. Yet, I was able to go on a dinner with this International Student. She is female. I'm denying about maybe I'm about to die like Lieng. So, a dinner with this International Student is like my last meal. During that dinner, I told her the memory I still have before I die. In a way, a chance for me to talk about the memory I can't let go. More or less, I would argues that I'm telling her the memory I can't let go, because I'm going to die. Nevertheless, because of the argument I can't be around the female. I thought that dinner going to be a disaster. But, it turn out to be manageable. Toward the end of that dinner, as we were getting ready to leave the restaurant. She asked me, "What is wrong with you?". “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Eleanor Roosevelt. I need to kill myself. The dinner going to be a disaster. Was all my thoughts. The argument is no one would believe this very high chance would happen to me. Because of this argument to be truthful to me is to tell me that I'm already dead.

Announcement 03 Begin I want to deny about the conspiracy on Lieng and that International Student. But, I vibe the argument that bringing up their names and/or talking about them. Would create arguments to my life. The goal is to try not to dwell on the past. And, stay with the schedule. In other words, I was giving myself a break in Announcement 02 by letting myself talk about the regrets I had when living with my father. In the self-recording video I made talking about my schedule. I wanted to have all the works I have done in my workshop as "AROWRA" to stay on top of my management. Arowra Development: I'm writing the Arowra Series Stories. And, I'm developing the "Arowra: Spiral of Conspiracy" Game Development. Video Game Walkthrough: I'm creating the Soul Calibur 4 & 5 Walkthroughs. After Soul Calibur, I'm creating the Silent Hill 2 & 3 Walkthroughs. For months of time from March 2024 to August 2024, I try to keep my schedule at "Arowra Development" and "Video Game Walkthrough" Like I wrote in Announcement 01:

It is very difficult for me to prove why I have "No Feedback No Follower".

My fundraising can't make any funds in more than 6 months from September 2023 to present, October 2024.

Both of my cell-phones is not working. The people in my surrounding have not lended me a cell-phone.

Because of #1-3, I would argues that I need to do something about the situation I'm in. So, I pushed myself to come up with a new schedule. At the same time, I have to stop self-rushing myself and self-criticizing myself. In addition, I want to argues that the adversities I'm facing is not the "Last Resort". Example: The pressures in my life make me see that the problems in my life seem like only creating more problems. The following is the new schedule: I'm going to begin writing the TM Game Tournament magazine using the history and commitment I have in the TCG & CCG from 1999 to present, 2024. Including the "Arowra Game Development". I'm going to finish up the Dark Souls walkthrough. Which I started on 2015. Through the 9 years from 2015 to present, 2024. I would argues if I puts pressures on myself and rushed myself to hurry and finish up the walkthrough. Then, it would effected the walkthrough. So, when I felt that I'm putting too much pressures on myself on the walkthrough. Then, I would stay away from the walkthrough by creating a new schedule. In other words, during the 9 years, I didn't consistently playing Dark Souls for all 9 years of time.

The following are Dark Souls Character Creation timeline: 2015 Jo: I created Jo as the first character on early 2015. The build is to focus on Vitality for HP. Endurance for Stamina and Equipment Load. High enough Faith to learn Miracles. The Miracles I was focusing on are the Great Lightning Spear and Great Magic Barrier. Seiori Phan & Sarah Phan: I created Seiori Phan as the second character on mid 2015. Weeks later, I created Sarah Phan as the third character. The plan is have both of the characters at the same time to able to have a chance to try out all the weapons available in Dark Souls. Seiori's build focus on Intelligence and Dexterity. Have high Intelligence to learn all the available sorcery spells. Have fairly high Dexterity for the combined effects of Intelligence and Dexterity. As for Sarah, high enough Strength to use all the available weapons that require Strength. In addition, she will also learn all the available Pyromancy. Jo, Seiori, and Sarah would able to learn all the available weapons. Including Sorcery and Pyromancy. The exception is not all the Miracles. The stopping point is after the dinner and talk with my father on December 2015. In the talk, he told me he still sees me as his son. 2019 Alyssa Recford: On 2019, I created Alyssa Recford as the fourth character. The focus is on 1 primary attribute, Dexterity. Instead have to self-pressured myself to learn all the weapons like on 2015. After weeks of time, I was looking for reasons to come to a stopping point. The reason I found was the Sunlight Medal could only be acquired Online. So, I used that reason to come to a stopping point. 2023 I decided it is time to finish up the Dark Souls walkthrough. I decided 3 characters for 3 primary attributes, Intelligence, Dexterity, and Strength. Alessa: Alessa will be the Dexterity character. Alicia: Alicia will be the Intelligence character. Quelaag: Quelaag will be the Strength character. When I started having problems making funds in my fundraising, so I decided to come a stopping point. Present, 2024 Today as I'm writing this announcement, for the last weeks, I continues where I left on Alessa, Alicia, and Quelaag. I have about 18 hours of video walkthrough for each of the 3 characters. A total of 54 hours video walkthrough.

To Be Continue Like I wrote in Announcement 01 & 02, in my current situation, I felt like I'm being rushed all over the places. Also, like I wrote in Announcement 01 & 02, I want to gives myself a chance to stop rushing myself. I will continue writing more announcement. Check back for more announcement.

[phlistopher]

Change of Blood

I wrote a humor column in college for the Hofstra Chronicle under the pseudonym Silence Doless, a nod to Benjamin Franklin I didn't come up with.

I was very proud of this work at the time. It's all very Hofstra specific, and the mid 2000s. Against my better judgement, I've decided to republish the series here.

This is the seventh cringe article, originally printed December 7th, 2007. Commentary at the end.

Last week I challenged University President Stuart Rabinowitz to a duel. The rules were simple: no lasers, no cheating and no wimping out. I waited patiently at the designated place and time, yet Rabinowitz failed to show, thus breaking two of the agreed-upon rules. I’m sure he would have broken all three if it were possible to fight with lasers while cheating and chickening out. This could have been because I said the meeting place was at the quad, and apparently there’s more than one on campus (why didn’t anyone inform me of this?! I’m looking at you, editors). That, or maybe our president is a lily-livered, yellow-bellied, pants-wetting wiener. Whatever the case may be, I hereby decide that his conduct was dishonorable. As punishment, I shall ignore him for the rest of the column.

Have you ever wanted to be something, or someone, you’re not? Have you ever thought, “Oh, if I was only this other person or had these certain attributes, everything would work out for me”? Perhaps you imagine yourself as a famous actor, thinking, “Wow, if only I was Danny DeVito my life would be great!”

Personally, I’ve always wanted to be Native American. Why, you may ask? Because it’s badass. Think of the perks. You could walk to the front of any line in the country and if anyone gives you guff just say, “I was here first!” Guaranteed to work every time. Also, you can have a lot of fun with scalping puns outside concert venues. And by “a lot of fun” I mean “have a lot of people pissed at you.” If this happens, just scalp them (by which I mean sell them a ticket…to an Atlanta Braves game! The fans will do the rest).

Native American culture is also very rich, heavily emphasizing a symbiosis with nature which has been all but lost in today’s hyper-developed society. With all these benefits, there must be a catch, right? I mean, why wouldn’t you want to become Native American?

The truth is, there is no catch. The hard part is actually changing your ethnicity. Hard, yes, but impossible? Quite possibly. But I for one am not ready to give up. What is the most essential element of ethnic identity? That’s right, blood. If blood denotes brotherhood, motherhood, sisterhood and Hepatitis C, it can damn well denote ethnicity-hood. All the clichés about blood being thicker than water affirm that this is true.

So in light of this, I propose a startling new medical operation to swap the ethnicities of two people through blood transfusions. With said blood transfusions you could exchange blood with a person of the desired ethnicity; in this case a Native American. If your doctor had a high powered compressor you could transfer large quantities of blood at a time, making it possible to become as much as half Cherokee in a single visit! Of course, you’d have to find a full-blooded Cherokee willing to become half “Crazy blood-lusting whacko wannabe.” But this is in the future, my friends. This is a future where everyone can be whatever, and whomever they want (especially Danny DeVito), whenever they want (especially 10 years ago).

Critics may argue that this is nonsense. “Why can’t people just be satisfied with who they are?” they may ask, “Besides, the technology for blood transfusions is still decades away.”

Sometimes I think they’re right. Sometimes I think, “We’re all 99.9 percent the same genetic material, what’s the difference anyway?” Then I realize that that is just the Apes talking, who would have us believe that we share 98 percent of our genetics with them. Convincing us of this would enable them to infiltrate our society, posing as Rogaine test patients (or Robin Williams) and from there, take over the world giving them free reign to finally achieve their ultimate goal: sinking the Statue of Liberty into the beach.

I would be extremely mad at those damn dirty Apes if I didn’t want to be one so bad. Man, if I was a gorilla I’d kick Rabinowitz’s ass! Those dishonorable walls won’t hide you from my 12 pound fists, shorty!

And now I’ve broken my own ignoring rules. That’s okay, at least I didn’t wimp out.

As the person who wrote this, even I have to say this is really hard to follow. Plus, even more importantly, it’s not clear enough that I’m the butt of the joke with becoming Native American, and the whole thing is again just sweaty and gross. Why am I republishing these?