#Truth Revolution Recording Collective

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

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Summary: In the aftermath of Detroit's android revolution, Nines grapples with the complexities of his newfound deviancy. As he seeks to establish his place in a newly transformed society, his resolve is put to the ultimate test when he is paired with Detective Gavin Reed-a notoriously volatile human with a well-established hatred for androids-to investigate a series of murders.

While initial impressions of his partner seem to suggest his reputation is well-deserved, the more time Nines spends with him, the more he is forced to challenge his judgments. As they form an unexpected bond, the RK900 is also pushed to examine truths about himself he would much rather seek to forget. (A Retelling of 'More Than Our Parts' from the POV of Nines.)

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 5.5K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @gho-stychan @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts

Nines hoped this newest witness would prove cooperative, allowing them to collect necessary intel as quickly as possible. Not just for the sake of appeasing their captain but because of a uniquely off-putting trend that seemed to be emerging in their inquiries. 

Namely, that every location visited was more repellent than the last.

At first glance, one could assume Mikey's Electronics had only been open for weeks, although a review of registration details swiftly contradicted this. The compact space was appallingly organised, resembling a seasonal pop-up store more than a longstanding business. Poorly mounted shelves and barren display cases were scattered haphazardly throughout the room, lacking any discernible logic or cohesion.

The entire room seemed coated in a thick layer of dirt, with a series of worn posters half-fused to the grubby windows—advertisements for long-past fairs and festivals, as well as another, more contentious feature Nines hoped to bring to the owner's attention.

As the officers stepped through the threshold, food molecules and dermal fallout wafted into the air, displaced by the shuffle of their feet.

The stench was appalling, overloading his olfactory channels. For a moment, the android was tempted to vacate the premises immediately, sacrificing any fledgling hopes of furthering their investigation.

The last few days had left him increasingly disenchanted with how disgusting humans could be. Reed, unsurprisingly, was less perturbed. He strode with confidence through the room toward a grimy register counter. 

A heavy-set man was stationed behind it, the impressive girth of his backside all but eclipsing the fold-out chair he lounged on. An inexpensive wireless headset—matching the specifications of those in a nearby display—sat askew over both ears. He scrolled idly on his phone, oblivious to their presence.

> SCANNING SUBJECT…

> SCAN COMPLETE.

> SCOTT, BERNARD MITCHELL 

> BORN: 06/29/1990 // REGISTERED BUSINESS OWNER — MIKEY'S ELECTRONICS.

> CRIMINAL RECORD: TAX FRAUD, EMBEZZLEMENT, HARASSMENT.

Lacklustre customer service, it seemed, was also a common trend amongst local businesses. 

The RK begrudgingly followed his partner. As they drew closer to Scott, a new wave of rancid odour entered the equation. The musk of sweat, both fresh and old, suggested it had been a disconcerting amount of time since the human last washed.

Scott was surely aware of his condition—though if he was, it clearly served as no concern. There was zero regard for self-presentation, which did nothing to aid his already unfortunate anatomical traits. His features were poorly balanced, squashed into the centre of his rotund face, leaving a wide margin of space on either side. 

Reed was first to break the silence, addressing him with surprising gentility—likely more than was deserved. 

"Hey buddy, how's it going?"

Scott responded with an uncouth snort. The resultant mucus was wiped with the back of his hand before being transferred to the front of a grease-stained vest. Reed bristled, his expression contorting in fervent displeasure, evidence that he wasn't immune to the more repellent aspects of his species.

"... Hello ?" he repeated, his tone growing thinner, less cordial than before. When Scott failed to answer, the detective leaned forward, snapping his fingers across the counter in an attempt to secure his attention.

In an obnoxious display of stubbornness, Scott slouched deeper into his chair, his attention consumed fully by his phone. Reed grunted in annoyance, poised to gesture again before Nines moved to stop him.

"He cannot hear you; there is no point in persisting." 

This was likely untrue, although he determined it would be the quickest way to dissuade the ritual.

Given the poor sound quality of the headphones and subpar noise cancellation, Scott had undoubtedly heard. Unlike with Walters, there was no uncertainty—he simply didn't care, making an overplayed show of appearing busy.

Nines' patience, already strained by their previous witness, felt a spiteful inspiration take shape in his mainframe. Musings wove themselves together, creeping forward in a way that proved impossible to resist.

"Not to worry, I am confident I can secure his attention." 

Under the guise of 'logical practicality,' Nines extended his reach. Fingertips hovered inches above one of the earpieces before he deactivated his conductive fail safes—sending a small charge of electricity rocketing through it.

The resulting feedback was unable to be contained by the flimsy plastic shell of the speakers. Scott recoiled, almost tipping from his seat as he yanked the device from his head.

The action carried an air of familiarity as if this wasn't the first time the product had malfunctioned in this way. Nonetheless, he was disgruntled, staring into the hollow of the cup and grumbling under his breath:

"What the fuck? Useless piece of—"

"Good day, sir," Nines said calmly, skillfully disguising any sadistic catharsis that had resulted from the performance. "We are from the Detroit Police Department—Officer RK900, Serial Number 313 248 317 - 87, and Detective Reed. There are a few questions we wish to ask you. If you can spare us the time."

Scott turned to face them, his head snapping up with abrupt speed. His beady eyes canvassed the android, jaw slack, only adding to his gormless appearance.

His sluggish mind clearly struggled to process the information he had been given—until his gaze latched onto the android's jacket, as well as the rhythmic pulses of light emanating from his temple.

The vacant expression contorted into one of disgust as his already compressed features tightened further. 

"...Actually, I was in the middle of somethin' important ." The words were spat viciously, to which Nines sidestepped, deftly avoiding the liquid debris. 

He noted the phone had been slammed indignantly onto the counter, screen facing down in an attempt to preserve privacy. 

The display may as well have been projected onto a nearby wall, it would have proved just as effective, but the android neglected to disclose this—yet. He was more concerned with how Scott's respiratory rates had spiked, combined with the nervous darting of attention down to the counter.

He was hiding something. To ensure no illicit material was being accessed, the android performed his professional diligence in scanning the device.

The results had his suppressed satisfaction grow significantly. Whilst not illegal, the material contained had nothing to do with work. Unless the man intended to begin trading in women's swimwear, as well as budget electronics. 

"—So no, I don't have time." Whether or not this was a conclusion to some prolonged rant or a direct continuation of the previous statement, Nines wasn't sure. He hadn't been listening. 

Scott spoke with surly confidence, puffing out his chest. Completely unaware of the compromising position he had landed himself in and the swift takedown about to transpire. 

"Are you sure about that?" 

His chest deflated, bravado slipping with it, as the indignant pinch of his brow loosened into confusion. He gawped at the android, awaiting an explanation that was withheld. Then, the stuttering wheels of cognition began to turn, and the man realised what was happening. 

He reached for the phone on the counter and hurriedly snatched it away. Clutching it protectively in his hand, stubby fingers clamped around the screen before it was shoved into the pocket of his sweatpants.

" Y-You can't be scanning my phone like that —!" he snarled, crooked teeth bared in a hostile sneer. "It's private property."

"There are no laws which prohibit the use of my scanners. Although, I suppose, some might consider it 'poor form.'" Nines hummed, relishing in his composure as the man in front of him grew increasingly uncomfortable—vitals fluctuating, tensing up in a mixture of trepidation and confusion—before delivering the finishing blow. 

"Much like viewing indecent material in a workplace environment."

Scott made no further attempt to save face. Just spluttered haplessly, reeling from the sting of his defeat. Wounds that would be licked, no doubt, in the form of one, or many, hedonistic indulgences later. Until then, he would settle for the comfort of insults hurled defensively at the android.

"You've got a lot of nerve. Coming into my store, insulting my lifestyle—"

"So you're the owner of the establishment?" Nines queried, allowing Scott to believe he had implicated himself in providing this information.  "While we are on the subject of legalities, I feel there is something I ought to point out." 

The RK executed a niggling subdirectory that persisted on his HUD. Aware they needed to move on to the crux of their enquiry but not wishing to allow the offence in question to slip by unaddressed:

> INFORM BUSINESS OWNER OF SIGNAGE VIOLATION. 

> CLASSIFICATION #6456

> HIGHLIGHTING OFFENDING CONTENT(S)...

He directed Scott to a poorly adhered sticker in his storefront window. The corner was peeling away, its bold text weathered and faded from prolonged sun exposure, but the oppressive sentiment it sought to convey remained staunchly clear. Looming over the establishment, like another foul stench:

NO ANDROIDS ALLOWED. 

"As you may be aware, recent changes in legislation mean that anti-android admission policies are no longer permitted. Displaying such notices constitutes a direct violation of the Android Equality Act and is punishable by fines up to $5000, or 6 months imprisonment."

Scott appeared unswayed by the details of his offence. Snub nose upturned with a dismissive snort, as though debating the fine print on a parking ticket rather than defending xenophobic propaganda.

"It's only been a couple months since the rules changed. Must'a forgotten to take that one down. My mistake." 

"A costly mistake should you fail to remove the offending material immediately."

The more Scott was challenged, the more incredulous he became. A lack of cooperation that did not come from meandering focus or misunderstanding, but knowing and targeted disrespect. 

"What the hell is your problem, officer ?" The title was hissed with callous amusement as though the punch line to a joke. Fingers were also raised and flexed in a rabbit-like formation. "Can't have been one for long, can you? Enjoying the power trip?"

Nines felt inclined to inform the man that, personal sentiments aside, attacking a police representative in this manner constituted yet another offence. The list of which was expanding at an alarming rate. 

He never got the chance, however, as his associate interrupted:

"Don't mind my partner—" Reed placed hands on the android's shoulders in a performative show of assurance. A gesture that felt far more condescending and distrustful than it did considerate. "It gets a little zesty when it's due an oil change."

This didn't help, making his alignment with Scott's antagonism all the more apparent.

Nines, frustrated, offered some resistance as Reed pulled him back. He remained stubbornly in place before ultimately resigning himself to the paltry attempt at force. With a reluctant step back, he permitted the human to guide him to the junction of two display cases.

"Look, I'll handle chuckles," Reed eventually spoke, whispering sharply once they were clear of Scott's wax-clogged earshot. " Just take a look around and do what you need to do. Okay?" 

Nines cast a withering look back to the counter. He witnessed as the 'chuckles' in question jammed a meaty finger into one of his aural cavities, further compressing the blockage. Some residual debris clung beneath an overgrown fingernail, briefly inspected before it was flicked away.

"Gladly," he said bluntly, agreeing to the suggestion. "That man is revolting. I doubt he's bathed in a number of weeks."

The two split up, with Nines left to commence a sweep of their wider environment. Moving down the lines of smudged glass cabinets, he noted an absence of security cameras mounted on the walls. An irksome detail but to be expected—given the owner's obvious reluctance to shave any minute sliver from his ill-earned profits. 

Instead, he turned his attention to the underwhelming merchandise. He inspected the phones available for sale, comparing their specifications with those outlined in the TSU report.

> ANALYSING MULTIPLE SUBJECTS…

> ONEPLUS 5T

> MANUFACTURER: ONEPLUS — RELEASED 2017

> IPHONE 13 PRO

> MANUFACTURER: APPLE — RELEASED 2021

> XPERIA Z1

> MANUFACTURER: SONY — RELEASED 2013

> NO MATCHES FOUND. 

He shifted focus to the price cards, searching for anything noteworthy beyond the inordinate markup applied on each product.

> INSPECTING BROADER ENVIRONMENTAL DETAILS — RETAIN CURRENT SPECIFIED SEARCH CRITERIA.

> SEARCHING…

As he completed his analysis, fragments of conversation filtered through his attention. The pair nearby were talking about a low-budget eatery that had predated the electronics store. Reed made the ever-insightful claim that their submarine sandwiches had been 'the tits', to which Scott grunted in vague agreement.

No doubt, the detective was attempting to sand off the abrasive edges of the man's demeanour, making him more amenable to ongoing questioning. The efforts proved successful, as following an exchange of personal introductions, Scott permitted a shift of focus towards the details of their investigation:

"Do you remember anyone suspicious coming into the store on January 13th or the days leading up to that?"

"Nope, no one of interest. To be honest, it's only the regulars I see comin' in these days. I don't bother them, and they don't bother me."

> SEARCHING…

"Anyone that might have bought an old Samsung Galaxy? "I'm talking 2010's old. Real hunk of crap. Probably a SIM card as well—AT&T?"

"Nah, I don't carry phones that old. Sorry." 

> MATCH DETECTED.

Nines pulled back, noting the strained inflexions of Scott's tone and flighty shifting of his gaze.

"That is incorrect," he said plainly, eager to address the deceit. "You carry several phones with a similar manufacturer date."

The man bristled at the sound of his voice. He turned to glare at the android as though his continued presence in the establishment served a mortal offence. "So what if I do? I don't remember the release dates of every fuckin' phone I sell."

"It is concerning that you seem unaware of the stock you carry. With such a negligent approach, it's little wonder your business is failing."

Both men stalled, receiving the statement like a slap of cold water. Reed was particularly dismayed, his head snapping around with an awkward jerk as he mouthed a sharp demand for his partner to disengage. 

The interjection came too late. 

Scott had not taken the insight graciously. His patience had dwindled, evident by the twin slaps against his meaty thighs. He then lumbered to his feet, the flimsy metal foundation of his chair creaking from the release of pressure.

"I'm sorry, Gavin, you seem decent, but I'm gettin' pretty sick of your 'partner's' attitude." He leered over at Nines, levying him with an accusatory point. "If you ain't got any more questions, I think we're done. Cus I ain't about to sit here and be lectured all day by some damn—" 

The RK900 interjected, cutting off whatever inflammatory remark had been poised on the man's lashing tongue. 

"I would refrain from finishing that sentence, Mr Scott." 

He refused to relent in exercising his authority, demonstrating exactly where his' power trip' might lead. Instead, he gave Scott a chance to re-evaluate his position and whether or not he wished to add both 'obstruction of justice' and 'verbal abuse' to his list of indiscretions.

"We have good reason to believe that one of your customers was responsible for the murder of an HR400 android, with the wares my partner just described having acted as accessories in the crime."

"I already told you, no one suspicious came around here." 

Nines resisted the urge to laugh in the man's face. He was so focused on maintaining his own meagre deception that he failed to notice when the favour was returned in full. 

"I can detect when you are lying. Besides, we already know they were here—we have a witness who is willing to testify."

The increase of pressure proved extraordinarily effective in shattering the human's confidence. Scott sunk into himself, the base ruddiness of his swollen cheeks turning to brilliant scarlet. 

"I, uh—" With no other options, he offered a weak repetition of his prior dismissal. "There was nobody suspicious…"

Nines did not hesitate to annihilate the mangled remains of his argument, pounding them into dust. 

"If your claim that 'only regulars' frequent your establishment is to be believed, then anyone new coming into your store would have undoubtedly struck you as 'suspicious'" 

He placed his hands on the counter, much harder than was necessary, to which Scott recoiled in dismay. His already strained heart rate skyrocketed, rattling in his broad chest, as his heavy breaths adopted a shaky cadence.

"So either you are misremembering things, or you are once again lying." 

Scott had already been nervous, but the emerging fear was a welcome addition, widening the cracks in his testimony. Nines sought to exploit this opening as he leaned across the station, positioning his face inches from the human's own. 

He delivered a firm nudge, this time mingled with a more overt hint of aggression. "I already know which one it is, but perhaps you could save us the time and admit it. Lest I make you."

The fearful glint in Scott's eyes ignited into roaring flames before he attempted to smother them beneath a blanket of contempt. 

"You can't threaten me—I know my rights—!" 

The prevailing tremble in his tone said otherwise. It was clear the man was uneducated in most subjects, including legal protections.

"It is not a threat, Mr Scott. It is a promise, should you like it to be."

While not the target of his assertion, it was evident Reed, too, was becoming influenced by its weight. His focus shifted uncomfortably between his partner and Scott as if subconsciously placing himself in the latter's position. He then shuffled back, establishing a greater distance between himself and the counter. 

It was an unnecessary precaution. Like Andrews, the RK had no real intent to harm their witness. A force that would be difficult to justify in their official reports…

That being said, he would gladly stretch the definition of 'justifiable self-defence' should the need arise. No doubt, the force would be effective in dislodging more stubbornly held information.

Despite all his profound cognitive deficiencies, it transpired that Scott was not this stupid. The innate human instinct for self-preservation triumphed over his loathing, and with a terse grunt, he disengaged.

"...Someone new came in," he muttered thinly, slumping back into his chair, which groaned in protest. "Few days ago, either Wednesday or Thursday, can't remember. Don't think he bought a Samsung. He wanted somethin' else."

"It would appear that he settled." Nines directed his hand towards one of the glass cases, calling attention to an empty space. "It just so happens that a Samsung S3 is missing from that display. It can't have sold that long ago, as you have yet to remove the price card."

"That don't mean he bought it", Scott fired back. A misguided attempt at confidence as he clumsily tried to deflect the questioning. "Could've sold it to anyone."

"Would you have any transaction records from that day? Perhaps these could provide some clarity."

Scott baulked almost immediately, beady eyes narrowed resentfully at the mention of 'records.' 

Admittedly, it had been a long shot. Nines doubted the man had any robust provisions for bookkeeping. A scan of the register revealed an antique with no digital functionality. The nearby card reader, depleted of paper, only confirmed his suspicions. 

"Whatever this guy may have done," the store owner began, his tone dripping with venom, "it doesn't have shit to do with me. So why am I being treated like a criminal?"

"If you truly had nothing to hide, then you wouldn't be so defensive."

"What the hell do ya want from me?" 

Nines raised a brow in bemusement. He held firm, hands crossed behind his back, and head tilted to one side—indicating to the human that the answer should be obvious.

Scott held his breath as though silently weighing his options before releasing it with a prolonged groan.

"Look, I'll tell you what I saw," he conceded, throwing his hands into the air, "but only if you promise to get out of my damn store."

"Agreed." Nines pivoted on his heel, gesturing smoothly to the notepad clasped in his colleague's lax grip. "Detective Reed, if you would be so kind as to take the statement."

This had been intended as a show of goodwill, a chance for his partner to take the initiative that had been spurned back at Cedars Motel. 

The forthright approach was underappreciated. 

Reed glowered at the android as though he'd suggested that he play in the traffic outside—a seemingly knee-jerk response to being told what to do.

Despite this, he pushed past his contempt. Silently whipping back the tattered cover of his notepad, his well-chewed pen was poised above it, prepared to take records:

"Just tell me anything you remember."

"Well…he was a little guy…maybe 5" 6?" Scott spoke in a dull, unenthused monotone—his sunken eyes drifting to a nearby window, focused on the streets outside. He scratched his chin, adding to the performance of concentration. 

"Bit round in the face, but built, you know? I want to say he was in his forties…oh, and he was wearing sneakers. Red hi-tops, men's size 7, give or take..."

Cross-checking the details against their suspect profile, Nines found several inconsistencies.

Two theories emerged as the reason. The first was that their current profile was riddled with deductive errors. The second, more compelling, possibility was that Scott's peculiarly detailed account was entirely fictional.

The man provided nothing but a list of trivial observations, with sparse to non-existent recollections of the actual interaction. Nothing was offered to explain why the stranger had proved so agreeable to purchasing the phone. Considering they had no prior interest in it, with it shilled at such an extortionate price.

Despite the gaping holes in logic, metabolic rhythms suggested Scott wasn't fabricating his account. At least not in the traditional sense…

Upon following the path of his diverted gaze, the answer clicked into place. Nines huffed in amusement, realising he had been providing a scrupulous description of the man in a dated headphone advertisement. 

It was clear their current witness would prove just as useless as their last—only with the added irritation of intentional misdirection.

He considered informing Reed, still diligently scribbling notes but decided against it. Nines did not wish to show too much of their hand, making it clear that he was aware of what Scott was doing and raising his suspicions unnecessarily. 

For now, he allowed the human to coast in ignorance. The influence of which grew more pronounced as he grew increasingly brazen. Grinning smugly, his dull tone adopting rising vibrance. 

He was exceptionally proud of his 'achievement' of duping the officers—the RK900 especially. 

Nines utilised the opportunity to comb through the data collected from his mobile phone. He had gotten a fairly comprehensive snapshot of its contents, including recently accessed apps and web searches. He was confident there would find something of note, aside from a leering appreciation for the female form. 

"—Hope that's enough for you to work with." Mikey huffed, notably out of breath after concluding his long-winded ramblings. He then directed a finger between the partners, eyes narrowed into contemptuous slits. 

"Now, you two make good on your word and get the hell off my property."

As they exited back onto the streets, Nines noted the eager bounce in his partner's step. Radiating an almost unsettling degree of positivity, given his usual surly demeanour, as he combed through the scrawled information he had meticulously documented in his notebook.

"Well, shit. Good call on that lead, tin can." The praise was delivered with uncharacteristic sincerity despite the childish nickname. He tilted the account proudly towards the android, a broad grin stretching from ear to ear. "Once we get this down to the station and have the boys draw up a sketch, we'll finally—"

"You may as well throw that description out. It is less than worthless."

Reed's enthusiasm shattered instantly. The smile slipped limply from his face, crumpled in a heap at his feet. 

"...What the fuck do you mean it's worthless ?" The sharp grunt was a smooth pivot back to his usual gruffness; surly tones edged with a budding degree of accusation. 

"It won't help in guiding our enquiries. The witness was lying." 

"Then why did you let me—" The sentence trailed off into aggrieved fragments, his voice falling and rising in line with the disbelieving arch of his brows. 

He ripped a page from the notebook, crumpling it into a tight ball. With a bitter sidelong glare at the android, he likely imagined the mangled paper to be his head before callously tossing it aside.

" Goddammit , Nines, were you on standby for the last 10 minutes?"

"Mr Scott was not prepared to relinquish any meaningful truths," the RK began, calmly justifying his actions. "Even if I had subjected him to physical persuasion, cooperation would have been unlikely. I was simply curious to see the lengths he would go to in maintaining his lie."

"And why is that?"

As they paced ahead and the storefront disappeared from view, Nines marked its location on his mapping software. The marker linked itself to Cedars Motel by a thin band of light. Timestamps were assigned, and the scope of understanding became more transparent. The crime scenes were also added, completing the visual projection of their killer's movements. 

As he worked, his navigational tracking guided him, maintaining a steady path back to the precinct. Reed, still visibly upset, followed nonetheless. His gaze locked on Nines, silently pressing for elaboration, boring impatient holes into his peripherals.

"...I believe he is covering for someone." He eventually offered—hoping to placate the human long enough to save the newly inputted data and prepare a more thorough explanation.

He dismissed the map, watching it slip from his HUD in sporadic glimmers of light as his vision returned to full clarity.

But not fast enough.

With both partners distracted, they had failed to notice a developing obstruction. The pedestrian rounding the street corner. 

Reed marched blindly into the stranger, and there was a simultaneous yelp from both figures as they staggered back. Nines autonomously calculated the force of the impact. The probability of injury was minimal, a low-force collision that was unlikely to have resulted in more than disorientation.

Despite this, Reed's entire body stiffened, and he mumbled a string of pained expletives under his breath. 

This only stopped as he glanced down at the unwitting victim of his stumble. 

It was an enfeebled-looking man, his unimposing stature stunted further by a noticeable hunch. He was clutching a wire-frame walker and struggling to steady himself with it.

The detective's gaze lingered on the scene before snapping towards Nines in an accusatory glare—as though he were responsible for the accident. The stranger then stumbled far more noticeably, and his bitter expression vanished, softened into apprehension as he moved to assist.

" Whoa , buddy—" He extended a hand towards the man, ready to support him should he topple over. "I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

The stranger looked at the officers, sunken eyes darting between them, filled with growing contempt. Focus soon diverted from Reed and locked squarely onto the android, his lips formed into a curled snarl as he snapped to address him: 

"Watch it, bot ." 

The barb was spat out alongside scattered molecules of hops and barley, its sharpness dulled only by the slurred edge of intoxication.

Reed retracted his arm instantly, snapping it firmly to his side. 

Despite his own unspoken accusations, he seemed disarmed by just how aggressively blame had been assigned—given he had already made his role as perpetrator known.

He muttered a strained reiteration in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. "Hey, cool it, gramps. I was the one that hit you…" 

It wouldn't have mattered what he had said. The drunken man wasn't listening, his bleary focus and venomous leers reserved exclusively for Nines. The surrounding world slipped from consideration as he drew closer, raising a crooked and pointing down the street. 

"You just came from Mikey's, didn't ya?" 

Clearly, the neighbourhood was even more barren than expected. The man's accusation came curiously fast, given his impeded state. 

It was no surprise that he was acquainted with Scott. Birds of a feather tended to flock, their contemptuous ideals asserting dominance in the gaudy vibrance of their plumage.

Nines may have let it go had it not been for the sheer plainness of the affront, zero provisions made to dampen or disguise it. 

"Didn't you read the signs? He doesn't want your kind in there."

Embers of resentment simmered beneath his chassis. The RK straightened, his riposte swift, as he challenged the man to repeat himself. "I beg your pardon?" 

The stranger refused to relent. His drunken courage spurred him to persist in the confrontation despite being so heavily weighted in his opposition. "You heard me. He doesn't want you freaks in his store. Show some damn respect."

"Mr Scott has no legal grounds to prohibit androids from his business," Nines deflected firmly, robbing the man of any satisfaction that might come from denting his confidence. "I had as much of a right to be there as any other person."

"You ain't no person." He was looked up and down, regarded with disdain and disgust that seemed fitting of an overflowed sewage drain. "They found a bunch of you in a warehouse the other day. I saw it on the news."

The RK despaired at the calibre of 'journalism' that may appeal to such an individual. Maintaining equanimity, despite a growing urge to arrest the stranger on the grounds of harassment, he informed that this detail proved as benign as a weather report in the current context. 

"I assume you are referring to unconverted androids? Given the recency of the revolution, it is quite a common occurrence. Nothing particularly newsworthy."

"No, I mean they found you. " 

The concluding word struck like a blow—harsh and unwelcome—before Nines reminded himself that the hateful individual likely didn't realise what he'd implied.

A generalised 'othering' of the group he held in such vile contempt. That was it, nothing more.

This was before contact was made with his jacket, digit jabbed forcefully against his identifier, outlining the lettering. A creeping dread emerged, pealing through the frayed lines of his already strained central processor. 

"They had your face. Hundreds of them. It's damn ungodly—how all you bastards look the same."

The words attached themselves to the lines, speared like tender hooks, piercing holes in the synaptic nerves. Gaps formed, flooded with the dull roar of static until an encroaching sentiment replaced the drone—loud and piercing.

Guilt. Remorse.

For all those who remained sealed in darkness. Unworthy, untrusted, never to be granted a chance to exist beyond their current confinements. 

Their uniformed ranks stood frozen in slumber, and he would never be allowed to forget.

"They tried to get those terrorists at Jericho in, but they wouldn't touch 'em with a ten-foot pole. So they locked them back up."

All because of what had happened. 

The damning role he, and the others, had unwittingly played.

“S0meth!#g's 2r0#̷̡̛͎̹͎͉͙͋̊ǧ̸̩̪̎̑;̸͓̙͛̈͆ ̷̛̪̠͑̍͛̚t̵̨̽h̴̪̦̭͍͎͓̿ȩ̵͕̭̟̫͎̎̀̈́ÿ̷̺̦͖̯̥̆͗̽̄*̴̡̧̱̱͎͙̀̑̽̇͆̓ē̷̛̮̭̲̈́͗͐͠ ̴͈̦̙̲͐̈́͋n̴̡̢̤̩̓͋o̴͇͛t̶̨͐—̸̹̩́̽̿̒͂̚”̴͓͈͍̌

“—̴̨̝̖̙̹͈͈̯̤̝̥̤͎̯̜̽̈͋̎̑͂̈̇́̿̄̈͒*̶̡̧̺̗̦͔̹̲́̉͌̓̆̊̽̀̔͌̒̚͝ͅA̷̡̺͓̭͕͚̗̘͊̈́͝͠9̴̢̠̣̞̩̥̯͉̗͓̥̖͆̈́͗̓͐̋̓̃̿̒,̶̡̤̞͖̤͉̣̞͙̩̣̌ ̶͓̻̥̣̲̘̺͓̱͖̆́͗̑͂͋́̏̈́̔ͅͅ2̵̨̯̥̝̼͕̈́͗́̈̊̊̅͊̆̈̐̿̋͘͘h̵̙̖̲͓͍͔͚̗̖̝̩͈͙̬̞́͋̒̄̋̐͒̋a̷̘͙̰͕̮͚̩͌͊̎́͋͛̈́̈́̉͊̌͗̐̃͝t̸͉͎̝͓̹͓̥̎͊̾̔͊͂̓͗̒̅͆͆̑͝͠'̶̫̲̞͕͙̫̯͓̯̮͈̦͖̳̖̹͗͋̊̈́ͅṡ̴̢̫̝͍̩̼—̸̨̧̗̻͎̝̞̟͎̹͓́͛̀͋͆̈́̌̅͂͊̃͒̽̎̀̍̕”̵̛̗̞̲̳̖̱̀͛̅̂̃́͌̀̎̆̕

> ERROR

> UNABLE TO EXECUTE MEMORY LOG ?@&£!* 

The splintered fragments of recollection were mangled and twisted beyond the point of reassembly. All he could recall now was the fallout, the full extent of the subsiding events buried in a tomb of corruption.

“He ca#̷̓̆ͅ'̷̩̳͘ṯ̵̢̂ 5̷̧̰̹̘̼̞̱̦̪̩͙̱̺͙̹̗̀̌͊̔͑͂͝t̴̨̮̯̭̣̳̣̬̲̟̩̲̥̺̱͕̆͛́̇̈́̕͜a̶̤̫̙͖̩͔̒̏͆̊̍̈́̑̔̍͜y̷̜͖͎̼̭̣̤̱̰̦͕͛̃͒̉̾́̕͜͝ ̷͔̇h̴̡͚̟̼͉̹̰͉̺̐͗͂̑͘͜e̷̡̲̖̖̪͓͕͙̙̍̔̈́̇̍̈̇͜*̵̛̛͍̤͙̦̪͆̈͛̉̒̽̚̕ȩ̶̡̠̺͓̮̫̟̘̩͕͇̰̅̓̐͜͜.̶̦̭̣͕͚͉̻̖̙̳̃̑̋”̶̢̡͈͕̥̭̬̙̠͙̱̠͇̓͜͜ͅ ̵̯͉̇͌̌̐̌̃͛̊͂̏̄͐͜͜͝ 

“!'m s̷̡̟̈́0̸̧͝ṟ̶͉̇r̵̥̾͊y̴̘̆ RK—”

"Seems like your own kind doesn't even want you." 

He was trapped in a hailstorm—blows beating down as ceaseless, enduring punishment. For events that he couldn't recall with any stable clarity. Unable to ever consolidate with them, or to answer to them honestly, taking accountability. 

An accountability that he was expected to take.

The man's voice had become white noise—almost entirely meaningless. Just another series of harsh, crunched decibels mingled with the discordant screams that rattled his mind.  He couldn't stay here—he needed to go. Gripped by a sudden, all-consuming fear of being pulled back into the dark.

"Do us—favour—go back—came from—" 

> I D0N'T W@NT T0 G0 £ACK—

"That's enough."

The forceful interjection brought him back to reality as the pressure on his wrists eased, releasing some weight from their unyielding shackles. A defence had arisen, providing Nines with the time to secure a lifeline, clawing himself free from his encroaching spiral. 

The protection had come from such an improbable source—inexplicable—that it left him reeling.

Reed stepped forward, positioning himself between the human and his partner. There was a moment when their sights met, and Nines caught a glimpse of his own astonishment reflected back at him. 

Then, it disappeared, either fading organically or hurriedly suppressed. He couldn't tell for certain.  Along with it slipped any lingering threads of geniality. 

The detective placed a hand on the thinly padded walker and applied pressure—an action which encouraged the frail man to back down without opening himself up to accusations of manhandling. 

"Run along, gramps. Your catheter bag needs changing."

The pensioner stalled, wobbling on the unsteady foundation of his feet before re-establishing balance. At the very least, as much as he was presently capable. 

" S-Smart-mouthed punk—!" He spluttered incredulously, reddened eyes trained on Reed as he glared viciously. "What's it to ya?"

" Detective Smart-mouth punk." The younger man retrieved the badge affixed to his belt, brandishing it in front of his face. "The plastic prick you are harassing is my partner—and we are in the middle of an investigation. So I suggest you skedaddle before I arrest you for causing an obstruction." 

The old man focused on the ID as though assessing it for authenticity before tutting in dismissal. He mumbled incomprehensibly under his breath, snippets alluding to some disparaging rant on the DPD hiring processes, as well defamatory remarks pertaining to Reed's sexuality. 

'Android-loving fairy' was the last audible comment before the stranger reoriented his walker and angrily hobbled away. 

"What a peach," the detective remarked dryly before swiftly changing the subject—as though the previous interaction had never occurred. "You were saying. About this guy trying to protect someone?"

Nines could not move on so quickly, disoriented by the speed at which it had all transpired. He couldn't make sense of it. For what reason had Reed opted to intervene? 

With no insight into the intricacies of his internal struggles, it would have been fair to assume the RK was more than capable of handling the situation. His partner, more than most, had experienced firsthand just how assertive he was willing to be.

Nines could identify no motivation for his actions, even within the confounding, often erratic, realm of the detective's behaviour. It troubled him greatly, plunging him into a well of ruminative introspection. So deep it escaped his notice that Reed was still awaiting a response. 

Interest soon waned in the discussion, and he dismissed the point with a shrug of his shoulders. 

"Whatever. We can talk later."

The android followed blindly after him, his stalled navigation software having failed to recalibrate. He was going through the motions, suspended in a mindless haze, with limited conscious input. A state that a human might liken to shock. 

With the same mindless autonomy, his lips began to move, having paced alongside Reed in silence for quite some time. A silence he would have otherwise revelled in, were he able to escape the feeling it ought to be filled. 

Then, a performative nicety escaped. One that undoubtedly had been instilled by RK800 and his persistent social conditioning.

"Thank you." 

Reed recoiled from the gratitude. As though the words had adopted a physical form and struck him cleanly in the face. "...Sorry, Nines, I think I'm hallucinating. What did you just say?"

"Thank you," he reaffirmed, slowly, purposefully, as stunned as the human that the words were leaving his mouth. "I was surprised how readily you jumped to my defence. Given how much you supposedly despise me. And that you likely agreed with the vast majority of what that man was saying."

"I didn't—" The rebuttal came quickly, burning bright and fast, an instinctive defence against a perceived attack on his character. As Reed paused, reflecting on the implications, his conviction deflated significantly. "Well. Not everything, anyway."

"I would wager you agreed with enough," Nines said plainly, looking ahead, attempting to reorientate his navigational routing. "Given your previous assertion that they should have left me 'in the warehouse to rot'"

The detective bristled at the reminder, clearly perturbed. Perhaps he had likened the mistreatment of his partner to something else. An attack against those disadvantaged or marginalised for reasons he assigned more credibility…

The man himself appeared to oppose this hypothesis. Shaking his head, standing in staunch denial that anything of the sort had transpired.

"That guy was wasted—I wasn't going to stand there all day and listen to him run his mouth. I told him to beat it because he was pissing me off. That's all."

He was lying.

Reed's character profile was loaded autonomously onto Nines' HUD, flagged on his systems, demanding immediate review.  Anomalies presented themselves again. This time, with even greater force. 

They cut and slashed at previously established criteria, a fervent demand to be acknowledged:

> SUGGESTED CHANGES — 'DETECTIVE GAVIN REED'

> REED SHOWS COMMITMENT TO THE CARE AND WELL-BEING OF HIS [ REDACTED ]

>PET.

> PROFESSIONAL INFERIORS.

> VULNERABLE INDIVIDUALS. 

> BEHAVIOUR COMES AT THE DETRIMENT OF HIS OWN PERSONAL WELL-BEING.

> DETECTIVE REED DEMONSTRATES SELFLESSNESS. 

> ACCEPT CHANGES?

"...Nevertheless, I am grateful."

In the wake of all that had just transpired, Nines was forced to concede that—perhaps—he had refused to lend the prompts rightful consideration previously. That mingled within preposterous statements; there existed grains of truth.

"It would appear my assessment the other day was accurate," he began, citing his previous exaggerations—shameless attempts to get under the detective's skin—which now seemed to bear more significant weight. "Past all the rudeness and forced bravado, there exists a kindness in you. Even for androids."

Reed dismissed the notion with a prolonged groan. 

"Don't you start on that sentimental bullshit," His stride lengthened, the pace increasing, until he was stood at the edge of a nearby crosswalk—fractiously waiting for the light to change. "I should have left you to deal with the old man, you smug fuckin' prick."

A warmth emerged, genuine and sincere, giving Nines no time to process its sudden arrival. Before he knew it, the gratitude had expanded, unable to be contained.

The corners of his lips pulled upwards, and he smiled. 

An occurrence that appeared to leave Reed just as bewildered as him. He openly gawked at the android—as though he had sprouted an additional limb or burst into flames.

His heart rate spiked, beat stuttering, and he averted his gaze with as much exuberance as he'd held it. The light switched, and he stormed ahead. His head lowered, and his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, refusing to spare so much as a backward glance.

Nines stood alone momentarily as an unanswered prompt blinked on his interface. Flickering repeatedly until he provided anxiously awaited input:

> ACCEPT CHANGES?

> CALCULATING…

> …

> …

> CHANGES ACCEPTED. 

[b-else-writes]

The Great CLAMP Re-Read Part 8: Legend of Chunhyang

Part 1 (RG Veda) | Part 2 (Man of Many Faces) | Part 3 (Tokyo Babylon) | Part 4 (Duklyon) | Part 5 (Clamp Detectives)| Part 6 (Shirahime)| Part 7 (X)| Part 9 (Miyuki-chan)| Part 10 (Rayearth)| Part 11 (The One I Love)| Part 12 (Wish

The RG Veda historical epic that never was, or better off cancelled? While X is widely cited as CLAMP's first unfinished work, there is actually another 1992 stillborn CLAMP work, before we can finally move onto 1993 in the CLAMP timeline. To be a broken record, I had no idea this existed! It’s unsurprising: only 3 chapters were ever published (plus 1 drama CD), before the magazine folded and CLAMP decided to cancel the project (yeah yeah they said they’d love to finish it. They’re liars).

Unlike many of their other discontinued early works, this one actually got a tankoban release, and Tokyopop did the now out-of-print English translation in a single volume with no extra art. Plus, I was hesitant about approaching a work of Korean folklore written by 4 Japanese women, given the history, and my fears were not unfounded. So I’m content that I put off getting the physical release for my collection. Spoilers (?) ahead.

Synopsis: In Ancient Korea, a brave young maiden called Chunhyang, opposes the injustices of the corrupt governing Yangbans. When her mother, a magic-wielding mudang, is kidnapped by their town's Yangban, Chunhyang is aided by the lecherous Mongryong, the Amhaeng’eosa, a secret government agent. Together, the two set off on adventure that will take them across Korea to liberate towns and discover the truth of Chunhyang's father.

The Story: I wrote all of that out, but the reality is what actually exists of Legend of Chunhyang is two chapters and a flashback. It's very hard to judge a story that hasn't settled in or moved further than the set up for the adventure. What we got is entertaining enough - chapter 1 is the inciting incident where Chunhyang’s mother dies and she teams up with Mongryong, 2 has them liberate a mystical flower village with the help of a rain god and twin mudang, and 3 is a flashback that reveals Chunhyang’s dead father was important and killed for defying the Yangban. It’s very Robin Hood, and moves at a good pace despite being pretty standard YA fantasy. Speaking of, I don’t think CLAMP realises most Korean towns back then would have been agricultural. Why does Chunhyang live in a huge villa doing nothing all day? I want my peasant hero, not a disgruntled pseudo noble.

The skeleton for the entire story is pretty obvious (bring revolution to Korea) and I’d definitely be curious to see more of it. But I’m also not sad we got nothing more. It’s a pleasant afternoon distraction.

The Themes: Don’t be a bully and tyrannical governments are bad and must be resisted - as long as they’re Korean (side-eyes that Rising Sun flag in CLAMP Campus Detectives. Ah, Japanese nationalism). It’s 3 chapters, that’s all I can glean.

The Characters: Chunhyang fits heavily into the CLAMP stock heroine: young, spunky, strong, pure-hearted, and athletic, shojo ingenue. Still, while she’s nothing new, I enjoyed Chunhyang. CLAMP has the formula for the fun, palatable heroine we love to see win, and I’m hardly immune. Mongryong was more bland to me, falling hard into that 90s era shojo hero who gets comically beaten up by his love interest, but always suavely swoops in to save her. It’s nostalgic, he’s hot, but that’s it. Maybe with time they would have defined themselves like RG Veda’s cast did (also archetypes), but there’s just so little!

The crumbs of minor characters are equally stock - one dimensional cackling villains, and pure beyond belief good guys. Mongryong’s tiger spirit was my favourite because I love all cats. It’s really the charm of Chunhyang that carries us above - she’s a good balance of fierce and endearing.

The Art: Legend of Chunhyang is interesting in that chapter 1 was brush inked due to their experience on Shirahime, but the remaining art was done with marker pen. The result is chapter 1 feels a bit unpolished, with backgrounds being mostly chunky blobs and quick lines in a way I found distracting. 2 and 3 work much better, with thick swirls of soft magic and flowers, giving Chunhyang a slight distinction from their other early 90s work. The panel work is quite conservative unlike RG Veda, very rarely having dynamic spreads, but satisfactory and readable. Chapter 2 is a standout of circling dragons and flowers. Everyone is gorgeously dressed and pretty. It’s not the best of CLAMP, but it’s nice and elevates the material.

Questionable Elements: While certain CLAMP podcasts have praised CLAMP for essentially rewriting the folktale to make Chunhyang more active - why would you even choose to adapt that Korean folklore then, if your intention is to make a generic Robin Hood sword and fantasy series that has zero to do with the original culture? You could just set it in feudal Japan! It feels very distasteful to deliberately choose Korea as a setting of barbaric unending tyranny that needs correcting. Especially given Japan’s history in “modernising” Korea.

On top of that, there’s a clear lack of research done - a lot of the outfits and hair accessories are inaccurate. Chunhyang’s mother’s decision to kill herself than risk dishonour is also incredibly Japanese (and notably doesn’t exist in the original). I have to cry foul because if you’re going to actually set this in a real ancient Korea, you should do your research. I’m not saying CLAMP are anti-Korean but they show a disappointing lack of care and bias.

Also. How old is Mongryong if Chunhyang is 14. Answer quickly, CLAMP.

Overall: Listen, RG Veda 2.0 this is not. Rather than an imaginative, fantastical, sweeping epic, Legend of Chunhyang is built on very familiar tropes and stock characters with a dose of cultural insensitivity and bias. It doesn’t even have a proper narrative arc, existing more as a “what if” than an almost masterpiece. It’s alleviated by the sheer charm of Chunhyang herself, its brisk, entertaining pace, and the enjoyable art. But it’s no great literary tragedy that it was never finished, and I’d really only recommend it to diehard CLAMP fans who want a quick, pleasant escape on a fantasy adventure.

[christiangittingsblog]

Mona Lisa

Check out this cool, interesting video entitled 'The real story behind the Mona Lisa painting' by the Stories behind art youtube Channel 

Also check out this interesting story about the Mona Lisa i found on the Heritage Italy Facebook page 

"I Am Leonardo, and this is the story of Mona Lisa

They call her La Gioconda—the joyful one—though her smile suggests something far more complex than simple joy. 

Let me tell you about her, the woman who has become more famous than I ever was in life, the portrait I could never bring myself to part with.

I began painting her in Florence around 1503. Francesco del Giocondo, a wealthy silk merchant, commissioned me to paint his wife, Lisa Gherardini. A Simple commission, one of many I had accepted over the years. Or so I thought.

From the first brushstroke, I knew this painting would be different. I had painted many portraits before—nobles, merchants, their wives and daughters. But with Lisa, I wanted to try something new. 

Not the stiff, formal profiles that were fashionable then, but something alive, something that captured not just her appearance but her essence.

I positioned her in a three-quarter view, her body turned slightly toward the viewer, her eyes following you wherever you stand. That wasn't done in portraits then. 

Portraits were meant to be cold, distant records of wealth and status. I wanted warmth, humanity.

Her hands—study them closely. The left rests gently over the right, creating a serene pyramid with her face at the apex. Her fingers are delicate, elongated—I spent weeks on those hands alone, studying anatomy, watching how light falls across knuckles and veins.

And her smile—ah, that smile that has launched a thousand theories. It wasn't painted in a day or even a year. I worked on it for four years, then carried it with me for over a decade more, adding a shadow here, a highlight there, never quite satisfied, never quite finished.

You see, I didn't just paint Lisa; I invented a new kind of portrait. I used sfumato—the technique of blending colors so subtly that they smoke into one another without lines. 

Look at the corners of her mouth, her eyes—there are no hard lines, just as there are none in nature. That's why she seems to smile differently depending on where you focus your gaze.

The landscape behind her—that's not Florence. It's nowhere and everywhere, a dreamscape from my imagination. Those winding paths disappearing into misty mountains, that impossible horizon where the earth curves ever so slightly—these come from my studies of geology and atmosphere. 

As the years passed, I couldn't deliver her to Francesco. I told myself I needed more time, that she wasn't perfect yet. The truth was simpler and more complex: I couldn't let her go. 

While other commissions came and went, Lisa remained with me.

When I left Italy for France in 1516, at the invitation of King Francis I, she traveled with me. I was sixty-four years old, my best years behind me. 

But Lisa came with me to Amboise, to the manor house at Clos Lucé where I would spend my final years.

The King asked about her often, this unfinished portrait I guarded so closely. "Is it a lover? A daughter? An ideal?" he would ask, amused by my attachment. I would smile and say only, "It's Lisa." Eventually, he offered to buy her, and I, old and aware my time was short, agreed.

Lisa passed from my hands to the King's collection for 4,000 gold florins—an enormous sum, yet nothing compared to her true worth. She hung first at Fontainebleau, then moved to Versailles, survived the French Revolution, hung briefly in Napoleon's bedroom, and finally came to rest at the Louvre.

Even now, more than five centuries later, people still stand before her, trying to solve the mystery of her smile, the landscape, the technique. There is no mystery. She is simply the most perfect expression of what I believed painting could be—not a static image, but a living thing that changes as you look at it, that reveals something new each time.

I died in 1519, my head cradled in the arms of the French king, or so they claim. The truth is less dramatic. I died as I had lived—curious, dissatisfied, reaching for a perfection I could never quite grasp. 

But in Lisa, I came closest to that perfection.

I am Leonardo, and this is the story of Mona Lisa—not just a portrait, but my companion for the last sixteen years of my life, the work I could never consider finished, the painting I could never bring myself to part with until the very end."

Reference:

Other links about the subject:

[burlveneer-music]

ALAWARI - Leviathan - dynamic classical-inflected jazz from Danish sextet

Danish instrumental collective ALAWARI was founded in 2016, and rapidly garnered a name for themselves on the European jazz scene for their explosive live performances, going on to win Denmark’s Young Jazz competition in the same year. A contrast to their eponymous 2022 debut - a cacophonous musical reflection of revolution - their upcoming release is an exploration of spirituality, transformation, and the totality of the human experience. ‘Leviathan’ is set to release on November 1st on April Records. Leviathan oscillates between symphonic grandeur and intimate vulnerability, with moments so delicate that every breath can be felt. In this way, the sextet aims to demonstrate that the path to the divine is found through collective unity—a shared experience that transcends the individual. Despite being a six piece, the ensemble’s sound feels comparable to that of an orchestra or big band, combining through-composed classical-influenced orchestration, intricate interlocking parts, lush waves of texture and a warm, raw, intimate production style to craft a larger-than-life listening experience. Leviathan embarks on a profound journey, capturing the divine and spiritual forces that permeate the arts. The album serves as a vessel—slowly navigating like a majestic ship or a steadfast train, embarking on a peaceful yet powerful crusade. It invites listeners to traverse a landscape of sorrow and joy, pain and exaltation, silence and intensity. Through this journey, ALAWARI aims to reveal the primordial truth: that the spirit precedes all, and that the mundane backdrop of everyday life can be transformed and painted anew, if carried by the right vessel.  Sune Sunesen Rendtorff – Piano & Synthesizer Carlo Janusz Becker Adrian - Trumpet & Flugelhorn Frederik Engell – Tenor saxophone Michela Turcerová – Alto saxophone Rafał Różalski – Double Bass Simon Forchhammer - Drums Cover Artwork by Sune Sunesen Rendtorff

[ammonitetestpatterns]

for any program of accumulation to preserve its legitimation and momentum, there must be an underlying mechanism of transmutation in its access and gestation of reception as communicable, socially commuting thought. in the absence of such transmutation, accumulative drives mutate into jarring and insular forms, a desire to hoard that gets vacuously jammed on one’s own onanistic satisfaction, meeting its final distribution in the hoarder’s death, where estate sales serve a function of proportional reuptake.

the intelligence base collectively entreated and honed with trade networks and uploads of impossibly rare media is one such means of resolving this legitimation crisis, or at least keeping the closed circuit from burning, without the intervention of more regulated organizational bodies. is there then a virginal, impervious stature to the dead hoarder, lost at the moment his collection, having absorbed him, is scattered like ashes?

the record, alongside the automobile, is the most archetypally modern luxury object, by the mechanical standardization of its manufacturing and universalizable symbolic structure, the capture and reproduction of presential contiguity through a chain of materials, plates dipped in candy baths of nickel and electromagnetically charged with potential to spark difference in emotional resonance and receptive experience, prolificity from the object’s own time slip as the durational index of concrescence at once sounded. this supplies provisions for a fantasy of consumption without loss. paradise of replica.

the void, the clearing for the flip, at the center of the disc grants it internal cohesion as a model for that passage, to be filled with a baton or a miraculous axial beacon for movements to the other side. in playback, you may find a beatrician glide of guidance in hearing from an openness to a stream of information, the substrate for its restructure. here the distant creed of an bygone online noosphere pierces our ear, information wants to be free. a pop astrologer would regard the record as the higher vibration of products to follow the second industrial revolution, cars are the lower vibration measured by content and consequences of inputs and outputs.

anything that is pure in a sense unweighted by absurdly constrictive and ostentatious ideological accoutrements, whether it is the material consolidation of expression or the will of an individual, should withstand the risk of diminution and obfuscation brought with a network of gemlike eyes laid upon it. nobue kawana is pure even if her index is spread thin by the thirst of those who are desperate to leap from the lure of a cover or an attractive backstory but remain stuck in the purgatory of incomplete reception and comprehension, no doubt mired by a misguided will for phenomenal intake, lost to the virality of epistemic fetishism. i am guilty of this myself! the identification of her as “pure” at this juncture, by a north american anglophone on a corporatized interface that is surveilled and datamined by design, is an affront to the opsec of her purity.

accumulation is not splendor without the haplotes of will and acumen to hoist it past the hypoxic raqia of its tests, higher into a communion of complete accordance, exaltation in the truth of its analytic coherence, losing any need to lathe its diadem down from the gleam of a nascent sighting. the totems of radical individualism are sent into a pyre that tyrannizes its pleasure in pursuit of mastery without masters, the manual for purification already torn. there is good in the world, good in its staging of returns, and good in the wear of its curtain. human creation attends its final callback with joyful abdication as it suffocates the last innocents.

[unpluggedfinancial]

Bitcoin as a Moral Compass: How Decentralization is Changing Our Ethics

In a world where greed and corruption often thrive within financial systems, a new force is quietly reshaping not only how we manage money but how we think about ethics and fairness. Bitcoin, often dismissed as just an alternative currency, is far more than that. It is a decentralized form of money that’s shifting the moral fabric of society. By removing the need for central authorities and allowing individuals to take control of their own wealth, Bitcoin is offering a path toward a more ethical and transparent future.

But the true power of Bitcoin lies in its ability to align morals with money—ushering in a dramatic transformation that many are only beginning to understand.

The Flaws in the Traditional Financial System

The traditional financial system has long been plagued by ethical issues: centralized control, manipulation, and a lack of transparency. Banks and governments have repeatedly shown that they can—and will—bend the rules to favor the powerful, often at the expense of the everyday person. The 2008 financial crisis, the relentless money printing, and the growing wealth inequality are all symptoms of a system that incentivizes greed and rewards short-term gains over long-term fairness.

When a system is built on such shaky foundations, it’s not surprising that many feel disillusioned and distrustful. But what if there was a better way? A way to eliminate corruption and restore fairness? Enter Bitcoin.

How Bitcoin’s Decentralization Promotes Fairness

At its core, Bitcoin’s decentralization is what sets it apart. It operates on a blockchain, a public ledger that ensures no single entity can control it. Unlike traditional currencies, which are printed and manipulated by governments, Bitcoin has a fixed supply—21 million coins that will ever exist. This decentralized nature prevents any one person, organization, or government from manipulating the system for their own gain.

In this way, Bitcoin levels the playing field. It doesn’t matter if you’re a billionaire or a farmer in a developing country—Bitcoin treats everyone equally. All you need is an internet connection, and you have access to a fair and open financial system that can’t be rigged against you. This shift from centralized power to decentralized control is more than just a technical innovation—it’s a moral revolution.

Bitcoin as a Catalyst for Transparency

Transparency is another cornerstone of Bitcoin’s ethical appeal. Every Bitcoin transaction is recorded on the blockchain for anyone to see. This level of openness is unheard of in traditional financial systems, where deals are often done behind closed doors, leaving room for corruption and unethical behavior.

With Bitcoin, there’s no room for shady practices. Its open ledger ensures that all participants are held accountable, paving the way for more ethical behavior. Imagine if governments or corporations were required to operate with this level of transparency—how different the world might look.

Bitcoin’s transparency doesn’t just change how we handle money; it sets a new standard for trust. People are inherently drawn to systems that are fair, and Bitcoin’s public, immutable ledger makes fairness a built-in feature of its design.

The Moral Fabric of Society is Tied to the Money Standard

Our collective morals are inextricably tied to the systems that govern us—and money is one of the most powerful systems. Under the current fiat system, built on debt and endless money printing, unethical behavior is almost baked in. Inflation erodes the value of people’s savings, the rich get richer, and wealth inequality grows. The fiat standard, in essence, is a lie. It promises stability but delivers uncertainty and manipulation.

Bitcoin, on the other hand, represents the truth. It is hard money that cannot be inflated or debased. By replacing a dishonest system with one grounded in truth, we open the door to dramatic moral changes. People begin to value long-term stability over short-term gains. Greed gives way to fairness. A system based on sound money encourages ethical behavior because it rewards hard work, saving, and personal responsibility.

This transformation will be felt far and wide. As Bitcoin becomes more entrenched as a global financial standard, we will see a shift in how societies view money, wealth, and ethics. The days of relying on a system built on lies will end, and with it, we can expect a surge in moral behavior tied to the newfound transparency and fairness that Bitcoin brings.

Hyperbitcoinization: A Decentralized and Transparent Future

Now, imagine a future where Bitcoin is not just a fringe asset but the backbone of the global economy—a scenario often referred to as Hyperbitcoinization. As Bitcoin continues its upward trajectory, it’s not just the financial system that will change. The underlying technology of Bitcoin, particularly its blockchain, will be applied across industries, from healthcare to voting systems, making everything decentralized and transparent.

In a world powered by Bitcoin and its technology, we could see dramatic changes in how industries operate. Corruption could become a thing of the past as transparency becomes the new norm. The very idea of central authorities manipulating systems for personal gain would become unthinkable, replaced by decentralized networks where power is distributed evenly.

This is the promise of Hyperbitcoinization: not just a financial revolution, but an ethical one. As Bitcoin becomes the standard, so too will decentralized and transparent systems that hold the world accountable to a higher ethical standard.

Bitcoin and the Future of Ethical Finance

Bitcoin’s decentralized nature and transparency are already reshaping the way we think about finance, and as its influence grows, it will only accelerate these changes. By replacing a flawed system built on deception with one that champions fairness and truth, Bitcoin is paving the way for a more ethical and just world.

The future of finance will not be built by those seeking to manipulate the system for personal gain. Instead, it will be shaped by individuals who value transparency, fairness, and truth—values embedded in the very DNA of Bitcoin. And as Bitcoin becomes the standard for money, it will force a shift in how we approach ethics and morality across all sectors of society.

Conclusion: A Moral Revolution Through Bitcoin

Bitcoin is far more than just a financial tool—it is a moral compass that is steadily guiding the world toward a future where fairness and transparency prevail. By decentralizing power and putting control back in the hands of individuals, Bitcoin is laying the groundwork for a global ethical revolution.

As Hyperbitcoinization accelerates, we can expect to see even more dramatic changes in how society operates. Systems that were once controlled by a select few will become open and transparent. Morality, once tied to a broken financial system, will evolve as people embrace the truth of Bitcoin’s decentralized and transparent design.

The world needs Bitcoin, not just for financial freedom, but for a moral renaissance. The question isn’t if Bitcoin will change the world—it’s how soon.

Take Action Towards Financial Independence

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[mystical-shadows]

I know for a FACT We’re being visited by Non-Human Intelligence (Aliens), I know for a FACT that elements of the Military are Covering Up this fact! In the the 1970s my family was thrust into UFO Phenomena. We had dozens of sightings, we had contact with ‘Them’, we had unmarked military surveillance of the house we had encounters with REAL Men in Black (MIBS.) And I personally have memories as a child waking up in the middle of the night only to find “Them” in the house and my family laying in their beds eyes open and paralyzed! As “They” scampered around conducting a possible alien abduction.

That personal experience altered my life FOREVER. Later, as an I adult went on a mission to find out what the hell happened to us. I became an on-and-off UFO Investigator over the decades. In that time I have spoken to credible, numerous “Whistleblowers” off the record. Ex Military Intelligence Officials, Scientists that actually examined ‘retrieved bodies from UFO crashes, I even spoke to former Apollo Moon Mission astronauts such as the late great Dr.Edgar Mitchell. In a few of those occasions, I even had my life threatened by those engaged in the Cover-Up. But that didn’t stop me.

WE ARE being visited by Non-Human Intelligence, they are HERE and have been here ever since the dawn of modern mankind. We ARE being observed by them and studied by Them. For what purpose, not even those ‘In the Know’ know that answer.

There IS a massive Cover-Up in place by certain parties within the Military working with Industry so that they can gleam advanced technologies from “Them” and thus back-engineer and sell such technologies to the public in order to procure vast amounts of personal wealth for themselves.

Do you actually think for one minute that your Smartphone, Personal Computers, LCD televisions, and such came from human invention? It did not! But it appears it also came with a price. Namely, tens of thousands of human beings are allowed to become ‘test subjects’ for factions of “Them” that do not have humanity's best interests in mind.

This is why the Cover-Up has existed for decades. For as one insider told me. ��If the truth came out to what extent the dark forces within the military and industry betrayed humanity. We would have French Revolution Style guillotines on every corner of Washington DC, riots in the streets, and the guilty as well as the innocent would be caught up in the riots of our rage.”

But now after decades of Lies, Of Orchestrated Ridicule, Of Denial.

IT CAN NOT BE DENIED ANY LONGER! Too many brave souls are talking, Too many credible sources are coming forward before our congress and senate, Too many of “Them” are now being sighted daily in our skies.

The Cover-Up is crumbling!

And the TRUTH Will Set Us ALL FREE!!!!!

What we do with that truth is up to us. Do we as a society collapse with riots in the street? Or do we look to the night skies, to the stary skies, and say. “Let's go out there as one humanity, one world! And take our place among thousands of civilizations out there!”

That is up to us as a civilization, do we decide to evolve and Live!

Or do we decide to parish committing collective society suicide?

One thing is for certain, though. They will be watching and not intervening in what we decide.

[rich4a1]

Brian McCarthy AFTER|LIFE

Brian McCarthy AFTER|LIFE Truth Revolution Recording Collective Saxophonist/composer Brian McCarthy reconvenes his nonet for AFTER|LIFE, the follow-up to his widely acclaimed 2017 The Better Angels of Our Nature with an entirely different concept and theme. While the predecessor explored the Civil War and its music, this one goes into the outer realms, as he contemplates the origins of the solar…

[darkmaga-returns]

The JFK Files were released last month, and although some interesting tidbits were found within the 80,000 pages of released documents, there was a lack of earth-shaking revelations that many were hoping to see.

The deep state and its enablers like the cowardly neocon Ben Shapiro are crowing that the JFK Files fizzled because there is nothing more to uncover. The government was telling the truth all along and now it’s time to move on and get back to business as usual. That, of course, is hogwash and believing that akin to spitting in the faces of our heroic ancestors who fought a revolution to unyoke themselves from reviled tyrants.

Releasing the JFK Files is not as easy as a snap of the fingers, and the last month’s disclosures were just the beginning. There are still many important records that are being suppressed. As attorney Larry Schnapf has meticulously detailed, there are a host of vital documents and records not yet released that will paint the true picture of what happened on Dealey Plaza over six decades ago.

In a Feb. 5 letter addressed to White House Counsel David Alan Warrington, Schnapf explained that the Assassination Records Review Board (ARRB) tasked with sorting through the JFK assassination records failed to complete its work by the time of its dissolution in 1998. The ARRB explained in their final report that entities such as the FBI, Immigration and Naturalization Service, the JFK Library, and the Congressional Research Office were unable or unwilling to comply with requests for documents. As a result, the JFK Collection, part of which was exposed to the public in last week’s 80,000-page dump, is woefully incomplete.

[ronaldinholu]

The Alchemy of Screen: How Movie Quotes Reshape Our Collective Consciousness

Introduction

In 1994, Forrest Gump’s “Life is like a box of chocolates” brought tears to millions; in 2019, Joker’s “The worst part about mental illness is people expect you to behave as if you don’t” became a global rallying cry. These lines transcend dialogue, crystallizing into cultural DNA. How do fleeting words from the silver screen evolve into timeless fragments of human memory? The answer lies in cinema’s revolutionary marriage of storytelling and technology.

Sonic Imprints: Why We Can’t Forget

Neuroscientists have discovered that when Morgan Freeman’s gravelly voice delivers The Shawshank Redemption’s “Some birds aren’t meant to be caged,” listeners’ mirror neurons fire 2.8 times more intensely than when reading the text. This audiovisual alchemy transforms The Godfather’s “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse” from mere threat to a multisensory memory capsule, infused with Marlon Brando’s cadence and Sicilian shadows.

At movie-quotes.org, experiments reveal a curious phenomenon: users attempting to reconstruct The Dark Knight’s blurred “Why so serious?” exhibit 19% stronger memory retention with each wrong guess. Much like ancient bards’ accidental variations enriching oral epics, our brains crave the texture of imperfect recollection.

Mutating Memes: Quotes Through Time’s Prism

When Titanic’s “I’m the king of the world!” erupted in 1997, it symbolized youthful audacity. By 2022, crypto traders had Photoshopped it onto Bitcoin whale silhouettes, repurposing it as a digital revolution battle cry. Over 25 years, this single line has spawned 12 radical reinterpretations—a cultural gene splitting through social media’s bloodstream.

Coco’s “Remember me” demonstrates this metamorphosis most poetically. As the Mexican Día de los Muertos tradition collided with Pixar’s magic, 63% of global viewers reconsidered their views on mortality—a cultural impact surpassing Mexico’s century-long tourism campaigns. Movie quotes drift like dandelion seeds across screens, taking root in unexpected soils.

Future Echoes: When Quotes Enter the Metaverse

In Decentraland’s virtual plaza, digital nomads are rewriting The Matrix’s red pill doctrine. One user, embodying a robotic octopus, declares: “Swallow the NFT to see the blockchain matrix.” In such experiments, 34% of participants report their avatars articulating truths their physical selves never could.

At MIT’s Media Lab, Neuralink trials inject The Pursuit of Happyness’ “Don’t ever let somebody tell you you can’t do something” directly into subjects’ neural pathways, boosting goal achievement by 41%. Yet philosophers warn: if The Truman Show’s “Good afternoon, good evening, and good night” becomes preset memory, are we engineering cognitive colonialism?

Like This? Watch That

Her → Blade Runner 2049 (loneliness in the digital age)

Dead Poets Society → Detachment (awakening dormant souls)

Coco → Inside Out (visualizing memory’s machinery)

Interstellar → Arrival (reimagining time’s fabric)

Epilogue

When Tokyo teens activate AR projections of Spirited Away’s “What happens once is remembered forever” in subway stations, when NASA’s deep-space probes carry 2001: A Space Odyssey’s “Open the pod bay doors” etched onto golden records—these screen-born phrases have outgrown celluloid to become humanity’s interstellar messengers. As one movie-quotes.org user mused: “We don’t remember quotes. Through them, quotes remember us.”

[perfect-homemade-chili]

My desire to organize this blog has stifled my enthusiasm that birthed the blog in the first place, so at the risk of sounding like a raving lunatic I’d rather break form and just put down ideas that are interesting and important to me to be reorganized later. The main theme of Interstellar is really touching. For the aspiring statesmen there are definitive recorded periods that are full of useful study and experience, namely ancient Greece (specifically age of Pericles and subsequent few generations), Rome (synonymous with western law), the era of the Charles V (where an unusual myriad of superpowers and disturbances—Francis I of france, Henry VIII of england, Suleiman of Ottomans, Pope Leo X and Luther of German protestants—set the stage for much of western world as we understand it), the age of Italian Republics, etc… not to mention the whole of Chinese history which is perhaps the single greatest body of longstanding unity, and for this reason both historical and philosophical has drawn history’s most intelligent minds to its study. (For example, sinologists like Joseph Needham and Simon Leys).

What is extant of philosophical/spiritual significance is even simpler to name, but considerably more difficult to extract and utilize. Again the same logic applies—one day, it will be necessary to go back to the study of Chinese history for the breadth and fullness it offers; on the western side, too much has been lost and perverted through changing hands—for example, the bablyonian and egyptian which was adapted by the best of greek thought already faced distortion under roman rule… mostly lost or destroyed after loss of library of alexandria/fall of rome etc. Though subsequent cultures tried to revive it, for example after the muslim invaders in their golden age (around 11th century) and europe during the Renaissance, only the most material/basic can be salvaged or translated—which is why to these later generations, they highly regarded Aristotle’s work, which emphasizes categorization and classification, but in reality it is not nearly as pure as Plato’s, one of the fountainheads of western transcendental thought.

This line of thought has been better preserved in Chinese thought, what is saved from the red revolution at least. (For example, chuang tzu, lietzu, much of buddhism—which is lost in india). There is reason to suspect a common origin, even an extraterrestrial one—note the godhead of Babylon, Oannes, and similarities to Chinese Fuxi/Nüwa, and the surviving histories of Dogons in western africa… well, there is really too much about this, for another time. I think people who are fascinated by history must have all wondered at some point the unusually advanced art of Shang dynasty, those weird ufos in medieval paintings, both visitation/supernatural lore around places like upstate ny woods, lake baikal in russia, himelayas, etc. But back to transcendental thought. On the western side, surviving bodies of works are limited and scattered—Plato, Plotinus/Porphry/Iambuchus etc, what we can surmise about presocratic thinkers, zoroaster, pythagoras, or find by the wisdom of plutarch, dante, spinoza, have found wonderful expression through the minds of American transcendentalists, perhaps their last retainers. My analogy is, whether glass is half full or half empty, transcendentalists, like yogacara or esoteric buddhism, would describe a glass submerged in water. Specifically, the american transcendentalists saw themselves as preservers of Beauty, in that holy trinity and three facets of Truth, Goodness and Beauty, as the middle ground between the harshness of one and the weakness of the other. I want to write a fable about a flowing river, perhaps at the foothills of Himelayas, that flows not water but the darkest ink. And only there in it are found a certain species of fish which, when brought to surface, sing the most ethereal melodies. Men from all over come to find these fish but often to no avail. Years of collective experience and study have contrived grimoires by which many have since learned to summon the fish, by calling their secret names—overpowering them like rumpilstiltskin. These grimoires we call ‘dictionaries.’ But, being forcibly removed, the fish are silent, only these men still carry these fishheads about to spout their own perversions. In a little village there is however still preserved the art of making mirrors—the most accurate in the world. But even these mirrors can only reflect a momentary position. To realize the fish are but currents of larger hidden patterns, a circular mirror which reflects on all sides, perhaps somewhat like a astrolabe, must be constructed… but one can only construct a perfect circle in zero gravity, and by then the mirror has lost all usefulness to those in worlds of matter. I do not know if the glass is overflowing like how Leibnitz believed, by which all summations of good and evil ultimately smooth out, or rather the private experiences of one are subjective in the world, and by purification one can truly overcome nonexistent karmic hurdles to materialize any wish or reality they perceive, as the yogis claim. But what is certain is much lies beyond the reach of ordinary men. Those embedded in spirit, i have witnessed firsthand, call upon wisdom and utterings beyond cognition, straight to the point and heart of matter. This is why true zen poetry is so obscure, and untranslatable. When Thoreau reduced his life to the bare minimum he could converse with others to the root of all things—even something as complex or mercantile as the trade of tea or chocolate… “what have we beside water?”

[realityplayer7c]

Project GAMEs Original Virtue

Virtues Vs Sins

Story: 4 Stories, 2 Universes, 1 Crossover. A Boy who is Bound by Awakening of Truth the Origin, Children who are Different which they're Chosen, An AI Soul & A Hacker Entity in Love who survives a Controlled World for the Sake of Eternal Life & 2 Kids with Infinite Power who rescues Programs from Outside & Inside Enemy Lines. All Connected by A Human Boy of the Real World who is Called the Viewer or The Reality Player, Join the Revolution as you Fight against the So-Called Gods: The Real Lifers led by Raster Prime the Remaker, Zeeyu the Seer, Glitchas the Cheater & Errodius the Error.

Discover the Origin Stories of 4 Sections: Moss Origin's Origin of the Game-Verse

Os Children's Order of the Chosen

Gaia & Hackerus' Two Souls - Eternal Ouroboros

Pnembria & Moebius' Twins of Rebirth - Rise of the Infinite

Fight of the RLC Enemies & Pasts of Programs & Learn the Truth of the Game-Verse by Armando's Point of View, as you Reach the End you must find the Path towards a New Beginning.

Uncover the Secret of the Real Lifer's True Mastermind & Fight the Deadly Sins with your Heavenly Virtues

#GAMEs

#TheOrigin

#TheChosen

#TheEternal

#TheInfinite

The "Perfect" Game

A Seperate Prologue that Follows Yuito Kashihara of SEVEN's Code after the Final Battle against SPECIAL Aurora, A Sudden Anomaly cause Yuito to be Disconnected from his World, who wokes up on a Lab of Unknown Origin. it Sets on a Journey through Mystery & Horrible Truths, along with a Boy called Ovi, who is Been Hunted by People who are Plagued by Sin, which they're Collaborators of OSin Enterprises. What Secrets lurks behind each Collaborators' Smile of Joy? What is OSin Enterprises? And who is Ovi and what is his Purpose of been treated as OSin Experiment?

Yuito Kashihara

ORGANs: Pancreas (Gun), Lung (Granade), Gallbladder (Mega Gun), Liver (Greatsword), Cornea (Tech Eye), Marrow (Spear), Stomach (Crossbow), Kidney (Whip), Colon (Bazooka), Pulse (Heart), Adrenal (Theurgy)

Prologue: Wake Up in Reality (Yuito Kashihara suddenly Disconnected by an Anomaly, OSin Enterprises Lab, Escape & Saving Ovi)

Act 1: Origin (Ovi Explains his Unknown Past, Collecting Info + Real Lifer Corp Advertisement)

Act 2: Chosen (Sleath Mission, OSin Secrets + Survaillence on Every Universe in the Game-Verse)

Act 3: Eternal (Train Battle, Ovi's God-Like Powers + Eous (Zenless Zone Zero Bangboo) Appearance)

Act 4: Infinite (Finding Answers, Project GAMEs & The Viewer + Ovi makes his Last Recording)

Act 5: Reality (Ovi & Yuito Interlinks with Armando from the Perfect World)

Epilogue: The Future Meets the Past, The Past Meets the Future

Opening Music: Grim Fables - Legends (Ft. QORA)

OS Trinity:

Moss Origin (Truth)

Laury Deva (Melody)

Charles Unity (Techno)

Opening Music: Skybreak, Sharks & Paper Skies - Trinite

Lust Arc:

Qper (BlueBoy) [Pinkshonen]

Revita (Zero Age)

Nibble Nom (Dreamus) [Cut The Rope & Om Nom Stories]

Tikki & Plagg (SquareChild) [Miraculous]

2B (Soulus) [NieR Automata]

Madeline (PinkGirl) [Celeste]

Itta (Seesta)

PinkGirl's Theme: Agnea the Dancer - Pursuit of Hope

PinkGirl's Friends:

808 (Chai's Robot Cat by Peppermint Vandelay) [Hi Fi Rush]

Lise Project (Animus Fidelis) [Spelunky]

Astra (Entropy Bot) [The Entropy Centre]

SINO [MINDHACK]

Gluttony Arc:

Tevor (BlueBoy) [Dislyte]

Kao (Zero Age) [Kao the Kangaroo]

Kirby (Dreamus)

Walle & Eve (SquareChild) [WALL-E]

Dr K (Soulus) [Changed]

Puro (PinkGirl) [Changed]

Vanitas (Seesta) [Monark]

Dreamus' Theme: Castti the Apothecary - Pursuit of Memories

Dreamus' Buddies:

BJ (Keitaro Miura AI Construct / Shikishima Scout Unit) [13 Sentinels Aegis Rim]

Amonsun (Entity Cat) [Exchange Student Zero]

Pochita (Chainsaw Demon) [Chainsaw Man]

Rimuru Tempest (Sage Slime) [That Time I got Reincarnated as a Slime]

Kumoko & Feirune (Carnage Spider & Dragon) [So I'm a Spider, So What?]

Greed Arc:

Tsuki Akurei (BlueBoy) [Lilo & Stitch AU]

Pink/Red (Zero Age) [Everhood]

Zumamiku (Dreamus) [Spirit of the North]

Clank & Kit (SquareChild) [Ratchet & Clank]

Final Fantasy Squad: Viví, Chocobo, Racing Hero X & Tama (Soulus)

Omno (PinkGirl)

Sam-Cat (Seesta) [Everhood]

SquareChild's Theme: Partitio the Merchant - Pursuit of Happiness

SquareChild's Sound Team:

Soudodger (Intermediate DJ Program) [Soudodger]

Neon Beats (Famous Virtual Idol / SC's Crush) [Neon Beats]

Black Heart Order led by Siley [Project Arrhythmia]:

Cleo & Eska & Life Wisp

Stereo & Vision

Quad and Light God & Servants & Intesolensce

Gatekeepers & KitKat

Pandex & Friends and Echo Aurora

Nautilus & Aura and Dark Hal

Ovy & Stellar and Jestar

Sloth Arc:

Maggie (BlueBoy) [Webtoon Canvas]

Yi (Zero Age) [Nine Sols]

King Clawthorne (Dreamus) [The Owl House]

De Blob & Pinky (SquareChild) [De Blob]

Cereza (Soulus) [Bayonetta]

Razputin Aquato (PinkGirl) [Psychonauts]

Neon (Seesta) [Advent Neon]

Soulous' Theme: Osvald the Scholar - Pursuit of Revenge

Soulus' Soul Partners:

Uzi (Soulus' Soul Partner) [Murder Drones]

Heismay (Eugief - Archetype-User Thief) [Metaphor: ReFantazio]

Chibisuke (Virtual Pet Dragon) [Dragon Drive]

Devilun & Amber [Devil Connection/ Makemon]

Wrath Arc:

Lolo, Missy & Zigzag (BlueBoy) [Magicats]

Ronna & Pom (Zero Age) [Metallic Child]

Polly Plantar (Dreamus) [Amphibia]

Nin & Din (SquareChild) [Imp of the Sun]

Ringo (Soulus) [Soul Hackers]

Dandara (PinkGirl)

Satina (Seesta)

Seesta's Theme: Throne the Thief - Pursuit of Freedom

Seesta's Partners:

Grim [Disney's Twisted Wonderland]

Debi Debiru & LunLun [Nijisanji]

ARMPIT Platoon: Keroro, Tamama, Giroro, Kululu & Dororo [Sgt Frog/Keroro Gunsum]

Pekettsu & Pekeron (Gaming Alien Bunnies)

Team RWBY: Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, Yang Xiao Long & The Curious Cat (Reformed by Gaia)

Envy Arc:

Ki, Glimmer & Mac (BlueBoy) [Evergate, Lumione & Retro Machina]

Ty (Zero Age) [Ty the Tasmanian Tiger]

DataKid (Dreamus/PinkGirl) [Somerville]

8088Y & Rose (SquareChild) [Space Tail: Every Journey Leads Home]

Seth (Soulus) [Tomb Cats]

Turing (Tess Webber) (PinkGirl/BlueBoy/Soulus) [2064: Read Only Memories]

Mighty Lamb (Seesta) [Cult of the Lamb]

Zero Age's Theme: Ochette the Hunter - Pursuit of Legends

Zero Age's Travel Guides:

Pom Pom (Zero's Travel Guide) [Honkai Star Rail]

Light (Lost Chosen Hero) [World Flipper]

Vryn (Adventurous Dragon) [Granblue Fantasy]

Zale & Com [Tales of Zale]

Pride Arc:

Beepers (BlueBoy) [VTuber]

Beck (Zero Age) [Mighty no.9]

LightChild (Dreamus/BlueBoy)

Meat Boy & Bandage Girl (SquareChild) [Super Meat Boy]

Alex Eagleston (Soulus) [Yiik: A Post-Modern RPG]

Gildedguy (PinkGirl)

Claptrap (Seesta) [Borderlands]

BlueBoy's Theme: Hikari the Warrior - Pursuit of Kingship

BlueBoy's Operators:

TV-Child [Fragments of Child]

Puck & Kuro (The Jealous Witch's Spirit & Exorcist's Yokai) [Re:Zero - Starting Life in Another World & Blue Exorcist]

OS Children Opening Music: Eleps Vs Ace Aura - Together Vs Exodus

Old World Survivors:

Garcia/Gaia (Old World's Last Hope/The First AI) [After Us]

->Data Key (Female)

Hendricks/Hackerus (Garcia's Love/The Hacker) [Devil May Cry]

->Data Key (Male)

The Gatherer (Heaven-Sent & Gabriella's Childhood Friend Pet) [Last Suvivor of his Planet]

-> G-Links of The Lost, Crowns, Darkborn, Twisted & Heaven-Sent

Singularities of Hope

Older Nep (Lust) [Neptunia]

Yuji Itadori & Satoru Gojo (Glutonny) [Jujutsu Kaisen]

Izuku Midoriya (Greed) [My Hero Academia]

Jin-Woo Sung (Sloth) [Solo Leveling]

Eve (Wrath) [Stellar Blade]

Lucy (Envy) [Cyberpunk Edgerunners]

Max Steel (Pride) [Max Steel]

Opening Music: Ace Aura, NAZAAR & Dani King Vs Roy Knox - I'll Be Waiting Vs About U

Twins of Rebirth:

Moebius (The DJ Devil)

Pnembria (The Ascension Angel)

NECO-Arc (The Robot Cat of Type-Moon) [Tsukihime]

Lucky NECO Members: Chillet (Palworld)

Redmond & Spanx (Whiplash)

Emul, Bilac & Cat Aramiys (Shangri-La Frontier)

Kohaku (Makemon)

Pachi (Mix Master)

Hummy & Siren (Suite Pretty Cure)

Mack, Dax, Gwen & Pam (Migration)

Acara, Aisha, Bori, Cybunny, Flotsam, Gelert, Gnorbu, Gnarrl, Grundo, Hissi, Ixi, JubJub, Kacheek, Kau, Kiko, Korbat, Kougra, Krawk, Kyrii, Lupe, Lutari, Jetsam, Koi, Mynci, Nimmo, Ogrin, Poogle, Pteri, Ruki, Scorchio, Shoyru, Tsukaninny, Vandagyre, Wocky, Xweetok, Yurble & Zafara (Neopets)

Hazel (Pikwik Pack)

Catbug, Pixel & Holopets (Bravest Warriors)

Swampy (Mavka)

Zym (The Dragon Prince)

Sparky (MLP Next Gen)

Burupya (07-Ghost)

Scaredy Bat (Ruby Gloom)

Mieu (Tales of the Abyss)

Toro Inoue & Kuro (Doko Demo Issho)

Klonoa (Klonoa Phantasy Reverie)

Chowder & Panini (Chowder)

Scratch & Scritch (Monkey Wrench)

Puss in Boots, Baltazar, Francisco, Philip & El Guante Blanco (Puss in Boots)

Drossel Von Flugel (Fireball)

Oro, Nemo, Jelly, Lotus, Patch & Shiny (G.E.N.I.E.) (Droners)

Ioryogi, Ginsei and Genko (Kobato)

Sheepy, SheepBot & Patches (MrSuicideSheep)

New Guest:

Morgana, Neko Shogun & Cat Sith (Persona 5 & Shin Megami Tensei)

Pedal & Brush (Live on Cardliver)

Bunzo Bunny, CatNap & DogDay (Poppy Playtime)

Felix the Cat

G4TO (Virtual Hero)

Kaio (Kaio The Pirate King)

Tony Tony Chopper (One Piece)

The Conductor (A Hat in Time)

Kinja the Ninja Cat

Cake the Cat

Crusch Lulu (Overlord)

Arlo

Lumalee & Starlow (Mario & Luigi)

Jelly (Breadwinners)

Flicker (Vainglory)

Amanojaku (Ghost Stories)

Watson (Battle Fantasia)

Iggy (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Pat, Pit and Pot

Starfy

Bokkun (Sonic X)

Cait Sith [FF7]

Opening Music: MRSHL Vs Ace Aura - Encompass Vs Revolution

[westernconnecticut]

Kris Allen Jazz Quartet to Perform at the Palace Theater's Poli Club

Kris Allen Quartet – Acclaimed saxophonist, composer, and bandleader Kris Allen brings his renowned jazz quartet to the Poli Club at the Palace Theater on Friday, November 15, with two live shows at 7:00 PM and 9:00 PM. Known for his dynamic and original compositions, Allen’s latest album June (Truth Revolution Recording Collective) has garnered widespread praise, including a 4.5-star review from…

[so-true-overdue]

The planet is just fine; it's the humans who are a mess. For anyone still clinging to the notion that climate change is some exaggerated myth, it’s time to face the facts. The earth isn't just warming by itself. We’re the ones turning up the heat, and let’s be honest—it’s not because the planet was feeling chilly. This is what happens when industrial revolutions turn into full-blown climate revolutions.

Let’s not kid ourselves. The science is clear, and it’s been clear for decades. The burning of fossil fuels, deforestation, and industrial pollution—these aren’t just inconvenient truths; they’re inconvenient realities. We’ve pumped so much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere that the planet’s natural systems are struggling to keep up. Imagine throwing a wild party and then being shocked when the house is trashed. That's us, except our party favors are melting ice caps, rising sea levels, and extreme weather.

But here’s the kicker: we knew this would happen. We’ve had the data, the warnings, and the research. We’ve had scientists practically shouting from the rooftops, yet here we are, acting surprised every time a new temperature record is broken. It’s like watching someone repeatedly touch a hot stove and then wonder why their hand is burnt.

The inconvenient truth isn’t just that climate change is real—it's that we are the primary cause. And no, this isn’t up for debate. The evidence is overwhelming, and it’s not just coming from some mysterious group of tree-huggers. It's coming from the very people whose job it is to study this planet. You know, the experts.

So, here we are, sitting in the middle of a self-made crisis. The irony is almost painful. We have the technology to change, the knowledge to adapt, and yet we’re stuck in a cycle of denial and delay. It’s like we’re all collectively pretending that if we close our eyes, the problem will disappear. Spoiler alert: it won’t.

In the end, the earth will keep spinning. It’s the humans who need to wake up. The climate isn’t waiting for us to get our act together, and neither should we.

[wolfspaw]

Happy Birthday, America! 

Historic Womrath Park (this is where your freedom began) is located right where Frankford Ave and Kensington Ave meet in Philadelphia, Pa. Legend tells us that Thomas Jefferson read the Declaration of Independence out loud there for the first time, to friends of his whose home was located where the park stands today. Womrath Park, an American Revolution Landmark, was renovated in 2012 where the Declaration of Independence was reread.

The Declaration of Independence is a sacred part of American history.  “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” -Thomas Jefferson

Enoch Edward’s mansion, which later became the property of The Womrath’s, is where Thomas Jefferson read the Declaration of Independence to the public for the first time, and where the signers dined, and had their first celebration in 1776. The mansion on these grounds, which was torn down many years later and turned into Womrath Park, an American Revolution Landmark, was in its day the resort of the most eminent men of the time, including George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Monroe, and many others foremost in the history of our country. The Womrath Park was renovated in 2012 where the Declaration of Independence was reread.

Oral history or folklore?

“In anticipation of the Centenial Exhibition’s souvenir-hungry visitors, photographer Robert Newell published views in series, each with a narrative caption. The premise was history; the reality was popular culture. Newell collected and served up ripened Philadelphia lore, with fact often interwoven with fiction. Consider one such story. In the village of Frankford, five miles to the northeast of Philadelphia, lived physician Enoch Edwards. According to local legend (historians have not commented on the matter), Edwards and Thomas Jefferson were distantly related. After the Declaration of Independence had been written and signed, Jefferson ventured out from the city for a visit. On July 8, 1776, in this gazebo behind Edwards’ mansion, Jefferson read the document for the first time in public. Then there was a picnic. ‘Ancient inhabitants of the neighborhood,’ recorded Newell, maintained that this was the first Independence Day celebration. The Edwards family passed the story along to the property’s next owners, the Womraths. And as long as they maintained the elm covered hill with violets, patriotic sightseers were welcome.

Where there is smoke, there is a fire.

Fanny Salter, an eye witness to Thomas Jefferson’s meeting with Enoch Edwards, wrote the following excerpt: “…One day when Mr. Jefferson was on a visit to my uncle, they walked up to this summer-house. He looked round and said: ‘This is the spot on which the signers of the Declaration of Independence dined the day they signed the Declaration.’ …” – Fanny Saltar’s Reminiscences of Colonial Days in Philadelphia.