#almost no mean critical comments in general

[redpillfuturist215]

This is a multi-part post. Recently some guy criticized one of my reblogs and in rare form I actually typed up a response but before I could that Tumblr account was apparently deleted so the comment and post lost forever. Well, turns out I took a screenshot so since I took the time to retort I might as well share it and make an example out of him so here we go…

1st off, a few small things I don’t have the time to research every single thing, event or whatever. People who got rich in the 20th century are not “old money”. I don't care to know but Trump and Musk are probably only 2nd generation wealthy, one thing for sure is they are not elites and certainly not cabal members. In the age of false accusations and going after political opponents with the entire mainstream media in tow, so called convictions mean nothing. Let’s say Trump did rape someone though … there are far more criminals in or aligned with the democratic party including sex predators and pedophiles, along with the elites who’ve been raping and sacrificing children for decades if not centuries so GTFOH! Democrats and the left do nothing but project, accusing others of what they are guilty for, a tactic straight out of the Marxist and Nazi playbooks. I’m pretty sure they admitted seeking to tie him up and drain his finances in attempt to keep him from getting back in the white house.

Now let’s address the main topic, the long history of US democrat racism which is very well documented so therefore not propaganda or “far right” because the real truth has no agenda and how they’ll destroy anything from the environment to an entire nation in pursuit of the continued subjugation of my people and others they hate. That said I’ve criticized republicans too because so many of them are cowards, esp. since the so called compromise of 1877.

Black women are the reason 90% of us vote democrat, because they are financial sellouts aiding in our own oppression and genocide, they are a joke. This is why black men more or less spearhead the red pill movement, we were the first to get fucked over by feminism and gynocentrism, so much so that it gave rise to IBMOR – introspective black men of reform as well as SYSBM – save yourselves black men. I’ve dealt with it and have heard accounts of several others, virtually all attempts to educate them are futile, it’s like talking to a wall. Aside from the desire for “free” resources and mental slavery, they are just simply too emotional to accept reality. Moving on… Nothing brings out emotionally driven leftists or whatever the fuck like a black person, esp. a man, reminding others he is not a US democrat supporter. The US republican party was established to stop slavery and other democrat violations of human rights, terrorism. Almost immediately after the civil war they were helping blacks become congressman and representatives. Decades would pass before any democrats did. It doesn’t matter what faults republicans have or how cowardly they have become more or less since the 1877 compromise, democrats have always hated blacks. Founded to defend, expand slavery Created the Confederacy, started a civil war Refused to attend Lincoln’s inauguration for the “radical” idea of freeing the slaves and ultimately shot him in the head over it Rapes, beatings, lynchings Circumcising male slaves to “prevent them from raping white women” Not only were white women raping black slaves, some white male slave owners (again, all democrats) were also raping them in the open as a form of humiliation and dominance. The practice was called breaking the buck or something like that Created the KKK While the KKK lynching blacks is pretty well known, most don’t know that at least 1,300 white republicans were also lynched by them roughly between 1880 and 1970 for helping blacks to do things like get a proper education, register to vote The KKK also in turn assisting with the Negro Project which would become Planned Parenthood, designed to target blacks and other “undesirables” for genocide through abortion, yet again with black women being willing participants because feminism and hypergamy Jim Crow, segregation LBJ – “I’ll have those niggas voting democrat for 200 years” The above corrected on 2-6-2025 Thanks for pointing out my typo @mtnman451 I knew it was LBJ, have no idea why I put FDR up there haha but I've now corrected it. Getting us hooked on crack and other hard drugs The welfare state to financially enslave the black community and destroy the family unit, along with abortion having black women being complicit in it The above leading to black children, esp. boys, having the highest abuse rates Poverty and crime skyrocketing as well Mental health issues and suicide rates too Other financial policies meant to keep blacks poor and living in ghettos Democrats aligned with muslims, the only ones still enslaving Africans today which liberals never talk about Saying we’re too stupid to get an ID Calling us Uncle Tom’s and the likes for not supporting the actual party of slavery, a shaming tactic trying to get us back on the mental plantation Biden was against integration of schools and sponsored legislation that led to the mass incarceration of blacks He also sought to prevent blacks from getting high level positions in the government, particularly if they were republican Having the audacity to say if we don’t vote for him then we ain’t black Real quick side note, before covid hit Trump’s policies led to record setting economic achievements for blacks – the greatest combined wealth and lowest unemployment rates on record … but of course the democrats just couldn’t have that in addition to canceling the legacy of successful black people in the past This is just for African Americans

[jules-van-hering]

I survived my parents' visit

[i-cant-sing]

Mmmhhh thinking about Yandere Batfam reacting to a reader who runs a very popular blog where she absolutely bashes Batman and Robins- and the batfam takes your criticism very seriously. Maybe not at first, but then Damian (the easiest to tick) got pissed off when you wrote how "he's just a kid in a cheap Halloween costume" and when Damian gets pissed off, he whines. He whines and whines and whines until Dick and Bruce finally listen to him and do something about it. That's when they find out about the extensive threads about them, criticising meticulously each and every action of theirs, how they're causing more financial harm to Gotham and allowing themselves to be idolised and causing more people to comit crimes just so that they could have their 5 seconds of fame with Batman. And ofc theirs a whole page about the Batsignal.

I mean, Damian and Tim have already found out who runs the page (though they had a little bit of a hard time sniffing u out. You were good at covering your tracks). While Damian and Tim are busy going to "have a talk with you", Bruce is at home reading your entire blog about Batfam and realising how some of your points.... kinda makes sense. So, he buys the app where you write your blogs, then has Damian bring you over to the Wayne offices, where he explains he just wanted to meet the person running the blog that generates the most readers on the app. You, just a 23 year old student who's blogging as a side hustle.

You're obviously stunned because why are you meeting Bruce Wayne and also confused because again, why are you here exactly??? Bruce just says that he likes your insights and would like to know more, and he's happy to pay you by the hour you spend talking to him and also on the blog.

He's very much determined to make Batman and Robins be good in your mind, and not that he cares much about what people think about him, it doesn't hurt to have good PR for heroes, lest people should try revolting against Justice league and only end up hurting themselves. There's only so much he could do to calm his metahuman friends.

You're again- CONFUSED, but you like money. The only thing you tell him is that you get to write whatever you want, complete creative control and that you can write about anyone you wish. Ofc, it doesn't register to Bruce that you could possibly write against his family- against his name.

So in the beginning, things are going great. Reader continues making calculated judgements and comments about Batfam and how they could possibly improve themselves, the batfam takes note and tries to do most of the things. Then you'd write something that could almost be seen as praise for "changing their old ways" and they all feel a little bit proud. They don't realise it but some members of the batfam (like damian and Dick) start craving your approval of their actions.

Perhaps something happens, maybe you don't find it fun to write about the bats anymore, so you shift your mind towards a new topic-

The Wayne's.

You research a bit, finding it a little odd at Bruve Wayne's generosity to be adopting random ass kids, a super duper clean record, no scandals or anything- it just- it doesn't feel right. No one's that clean. They have to be hiding something.

So when u can't find anything against them, you let your imagination go wild and start making conspiracy theories, kinda feel like reader goes in her gossip girl era to stir things up so that someone would come forward with something- anything.

Bruce's eyes almost bulge out as he reads the blog's headline-

"The secrets of Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy!"

Shit- did you figure out he's batman?

Nope. In fact, you covered everything but that. From theories about him adopting troubled kids for PR, to the Wayne family actually being a chauvinist cult, to conspiracies about his ties with the Rothschild, his philanthropic donations being a front for illegal activity, the Wayne Manor holding lavish nsfw parties, and even a classic "they drink virgin maiden blood!"

Bruce stood in your apartment, eyes narrowing at your sleeping form on the couch.

"Bruce? What- how did you get in?" You don't remember unlocking your door.

"What is the meaning of this?" He pulled up your article on his phone.

"Huh?" You took a closer look, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I wrote that."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "I was bored."

"What?" Bruce could feel himself getting angry. How could you be so nonchalant about the lies you wrote?

"You know this isn't true." "I do." "Then why did you write it?" "I told you, I was bored. Besides, you told me I could write about anyone." You get up with a sigh. "I don't get why you're so worried about this. Barely anyone reads this stuff."

Bruce's brows went up. "There's a 1000 plus views on this already!"

"What?" your eyes twinkled. "A thousand already? Its not even been 24 hours since I posted. Wow, people really do enjoy conspiracy-" you shut up when you saw his glare. "Right, sorry."

"Take it down, now." Bruce orders, brow twitching when you just walk past him and into the kitchen, pouring yourself some coffee. "Why?" you asks after taking a sip.

He glares at you. "Because it isnt true-"

"Then give me something that is."

Bruce stared at you. Is this... is this your way of wanting an interview?

You sighed. "Look, just let me interview you family, I promise to only write the truth and only the truth. No conspiracies, I swear."

"Or I could just fire you. Better yet, have you sued for defamation."

You nodded. "You could, but honestly that would only bring more attention to the articles and more conspiracies would arise. Besides, you and I both know you cant stop me from writing even if I'm in jail."

Bruce watched you walk upto him, holding your phone in your hand. "Come on, just one week- one week at your place, I'll even let you read the article before I post it. If you dont like it, I'll delete it."

I mean... it did sound like a pretty good bargain. Besides, at his home, youd be in a more supervised space.

So here you are, standing in the lobby of the Wayne manor as a posh butler leads you to Bruce's office. Of course Alfred will be a part of your articles. He's too fancy to not be.

And so over the course of a week, you dont really find anything particularly intriguing about the family, even after you interviewed each member. You're mentally groaning at the thought of writing yet another boring article... that is until you accidentally discover the batcave (ok not accidentally, u hid a recorder in Bruce's office and u heard the man discussing about it with Dick)

Anyways, it didnt take long for you to discover the cave, and it took you even less for you to write a scandalous article.

"RICH MAN COSPLAYS AND PRACTICES HIS JUJUTSU SKILLS ON THE MENTALLY ILL! SEE PICTURES OF WHERE HE ROLEPLAYS IN MASKS!"

Unfortunately, before you hit "post", your phone is snatched and you're knocked out.

When you come to, Bruce is sitting in front of you looking beyond pissed while you're tied up in your seat.

"We had a deal, Y/n." Bruce gritted out.

"So? Deal was off the moment I found out you were Batman." You shrugged.

"We had a deal-"

"You really expect me to just pretend like I'm blind after I found out who you really are? Do you think anyone would just give up on a scoop this big?" You tilt your head at him.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you. "Scoop? Thats what this is to you?"

You nodded. "Sure, you're a hero who fights crime and brings "peace" to Gotham, but who knows for sure? After all, thats how you want the world to see you." You lean as far as your restraints allow you. "I dont trust you, Bruce. Not one bit. There's just- this gut feeling about you. Nothing personal, but I dont get good vibes from you."

"Is that so?" Bruce raised his brow before sighing. "I guess there's no reason to let you go then."

"What?"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, if I let you go now, you'll only cause more trouble for me, but also for yourself. If you post content like that, people will target you- yes, I definitely cant let you go. You're an impulsive idiot who'd endanger herself just to not be bored."

Your eyes widen. "You cant kill me."

Bruce scoffed. "Dont be ridiculous, I can, but I wont. I just want to take care of you, protect you from yourself." He stood up. "I did a little bit of research on you too, yknow? You keep your personal life super private, I have to give credit to you, it wasnt easy to find out about your family. But... money makes the mare go."

Your throat dried as you saw a glint in his eyes. He knew... he couldnt-

Bruce's footsteps echoed as he neared you and ruffled your hair. "Poor you... having to deal with a schizoprenic mom." He leaned down to smile gently at you, but you could sense the sinister intent.

"Dont worry, she'll be taken care of at Gotham Asylum while you stay with us."

girl idk where i was going with this, i just needed to get it out of my drafts (i have another long incomplete draft about platonic yandere dick x gymnast reader where he basically is intrigued by this mini tonya harding who lives for her dead beat father's approval who doesnt give a shit about her unless she comes first. so its upto dick to adopt u and make u a part of batfam)

[tarotenchantress]

Astro observations ptV Aye-Aye and the swan edition🦢🏹

DO NOT PLAGIARISE MY WORK🚫

All these observations are based on my personal experience.

By- tarotenchantress🧚🏻‍♀️

The following observations are based on my understanding of what placement may make one think that they are ugly, dont fit the "ideal" box, are always noticed for their looks, are criticised for their looks, have their worth attached to their looks, have people compare them/ rate them for their looks, feel that nothing they do makes them feel pretty, are treated differently for their appearance, are considered stupid because of their appearance, bear the brunt of others envy and projection because of their appearance and those who become vain in their beauty .

Aye-aye is a lemur that is associated with ugliness due to its appearance and swan, as we all know, is associated with beauty because of its appearance, hence the title🏹🤍

🦢 venus in hard aspects with saturn, saturn in venusian degrees of libra (7°,19°)and taurus(2°,14°,26°), venus in capricorn or aquarius.

[This placement may make you very critical of your appearance, it can also mean that to an extent you may nitpick on your features alot, feel like your face is not "balanced" enough or "proportionate enough", call yourself names and idk why the word gross came inmy my mind so maybe some of you are also doing that or do that. This placement is also extremely prone to hating on their body too specifically the hip areas may feel as if their ass is too flat or it are not "pretty". This placement also indicates growing into your features later in life. Some mught even hate their voice or feel uncomfortable listening to their voice. People with this placement may also have suppressed anger issues esp when people comment on their body as neither of these signs and planets are extremely vocal about their pain. Youmay also feel as if no one understands your pain or people tend to be extremelycold or uncaring towards your body issues. Some people may also force you to believe that you have "masculine" features and they maypick on it. You may feel as if people around you judge you alot for appearance and tend to withhold opportunities just cause of your appearance. This placement also indicates that you either got into makeup very early on orrr you got introduced to it way later. This placement to be honest also indicates that one might hate their nose or its bone structure and feel as if it has "ruined" their face and the proportionality. Cynicism may also arise when it comes to appearance. You guys remember that tiktok audio which went like "how old are you?" "Im 19" "you look older" "its not a compliment" yeahh it mught be some scene like that too. Ans i also feel that people may pick on your ass or hips or nose or ears or your throat or voice in general or you may do it. And you may also look into workouts specifically of glutes and to increase the lower hip area and may also hate singing or feel extremely insecure about it. They may get a lot hate from feminine energies or may feel as if women were far more critical of them. Stiff lower back too]

🦢 ascendant in hard aspects with saturn, venus, mars, ascendant in capricorn or capricorn degrees, aspecting 10th house.

[People with

Venus in hard aspect with ascendant may not even see their own beauty. Its almost as if they become so vain with idealising others and other body types esp hourglass figures that they forget about their own appearance and feel dejected. They may also feel extremely jealous if other women looking the way they idealise or may get upset. Venus also demands perfectionism and this placement indicates never being happy with you appearance. Almost as if there's always something to pick on, something out of place something to hate on. Especially the ass area, it may be a point of insecuriry for some.

Mars in hard aspects may always feel as if their body is not "soft" enough or on the contrary not "healthy" enough. They may also have a sensitive ir "red" skin. The undertone of their skin may be reddish too. They may feel as if they "look too boxy" may often idealise a body with abs and muscles or a more feminine body [not gender specific] and mayworkout just to get that look or on the contrary may hate their "manly look" and try to hide it and hate it being the focus of attention. They may also have a love hate relationship with the feminine side of themselves as they may try to show up as more aggressive or dominating or masculine. They may be very hard on their body. One may also be impatient. This placement is also an indicator that masculine energies or men may not have been the kindest towards you may have passed absurd comments on your bosy. Also indicates that youmay be someone who might get into physical fights which may scar your appearance in some way. Dw this doesnt have to be the case for all.

Ascendant in hard aspects with saturn may hate their skeletal system.may feel as if their bones are not strong enough. May feel insecure about their bones as they may be "sticking out" or "weirdly shaped" may also be on the skinnier end may have been picked on for being like that. Adults may be harsh on you since childhood for you appearance. This placement struggles to see beauty in everyday life, in themselves. Very prone to melancholic phases. May want to get surgery done but too scared of its process and effects and failures. Also idk how to say this, like, its not for everyone but you may have a "boney" ass or you may feel like you have a "boney" ass.. Im so sorry omg. Stretching js a muat with this placement as you may feel your back getting stiff. Lower back esp. You may also fear sex and have it later in life and intimacy too and you may feel robotic in sexual acts. May mean tgst you like to dress up more conservatively or your dressing sense may be on the formal mature end.

[Similar effects seen for the remaining. Cap rising, rising in cap degrees, aspecting 10th house]

I have ascendant □ saturn and i tell you what. i used have alot of acne on my forehead and i also had a very oily skin cause i was 13 and i ended up using a pumice stone on my forehead cause pain was the only way for it to go away🤡]

[Capricorn or aqua here may do the same, 10th house placements too]

🦢neptune aspecting ascendant and sun esp harsher aspects in 1st house.

You may not even understand how you look like. Like genuinely having no sense of how your body looks like. I have nept conj sun and i for the longest time had no concept of my own body type even today idk what it is. This placement indicate that you may fantasise alot about an ideal body type and may feel dejected if you dont achieve them or if someone tells you it is impossible, you cant handle it and will refuse to accept it. Delulu is the word yeah. Also sense of self may be weak here. Also very prone to falling for others words esp when they are related to their appearance. Blind to their own beauty.

🦢 pluto aspecting ascendant, venus, in libra, in taurus, in 7th house, in libra degrees of 7°,14°, taurus degrees of 2°,14°,26°, in 2nd house, aspecting 7th house, in 2nd house, in 1st house, in 8th house.

[ anything pluto touches becomes a point of obsession. Here pluto creates an intense need to transform. May make the native a bit obsessed with their appearance, become critical or simply wanting to keep working on it. May also make the native work on their appearance for sexual reasons and may fear being rejected sexually because of their body. May also have intimacy issues. People may be obsessed with your appearance and they may hate on you. People may view you in a sexual manner. Women may be more prone to picking on you. But the thing is,,,, this obsession is not always outright, it can be very secretive as pluto and 8th house also govern secrets. You may feel like covering up your body more and not wanting to be in the spotlight. Early knowledge of being sexualised and also introduced to sexual aspects very early on too. May bring out insecurities in others. You may be far more critical of your appearance . You may also be more critical of your ass and genitilia. They may be darker than the rest of your body which may make you insecure.

I have venus square pluto and i had already mentioned it my prev. Observation but i had people i didnt know sexualise me and i had a "friend" who told me that she was scared ill "take" her 🤡married crush🤡 away because of appearance. Yes. Married crush who i never spoke to or knew about before she started🤡 talking to me about him.

I also had another "friend" mock me for wearing makeup who i very quickly shut down by sharing some youtube makeup tutorials on her number and telling her to learn from them.]

🦢uranus aspecting ascendant harshly.

[You may love your appearance one day and hate it the next day. You may have features that stand out alot and " ruin the balance" in your face which is not true. You may also prioritise your mind over your body for most parts.]

🦢venus in aqua, cap, pisces, scorpio

[May make you critical, delulu and obsessive about your appearance.

I have pisces venus and i hate feet. Im sorry. Im not trying to kink shame but i hate my feet and others too. And i know another pisces venus who feels insecure when she looks at other people's feet. Esp women's feet. ]

🦢chiron aspecting venus, asc, 1st house, 7th house, 2nd house, in libra degrees, in taurus degrees, in libra, taurus, in aspecting 1st house, 2nd house, 7th house, 8th house.

[These placements may give pain in lower back areas, relationships that teach you a lesson, become more critical of your aptearance, biggest pain could come from appearance or romantic partners. Also your crushes may reject you or you may feel rejected by them. One of those placements where their crush goes "ewwww" when shipped with them. (Same can happen in saturn aspects too.)] Also back archs may be a pain in the ass for you. Idk why i said that. Intimacy may also be a huge pain for you you. You may fear intimacy and acts like sex.

🦢beauty asteroids in harsh aspects like aphrodite etc

May make a person insecure about their appearance and not see their beauty at all.

🦢nessus aspecting venus, 7th house 2nd house, in those houses, in libra degrees, in taurus degrees

Like i had said in previous obs, nessus is where tou are abused and where you abuse. It is where you get picked on. Your romantic partners may pick on you. They may also sexually pick on you.

🦢saturn in 4th house, in cancer, aspects to moon, in cancerian degres, libra degrees, taurus degres

May make a person fear "losing" their boobs, may make you critical of your boobs, also make you have issues with feelings and intimacy romantic and sexual moments. Love hate relationship with your boobs. May also create issues with femininity.

Like i have moon conj my saturn and i fear losing my boobs as i admire them the most but i also fear losing them if i lose weight and i also hate them sometimes cause i cant wear some tops without feeling like a young medieval woman with a needy baby who's husband has eloped with another woman and now she has to seduce an old man to get by. Omg.

🦢Venus in 6th house, 12th house, virgo venus, virgo rising

May make the native feel as if theyre not that pretty, or eye catching. It may make the person feel like people overlook them and ignore them or they are not remembered alot. May also make the native dress up more modestly or connservatively. May make the native feel bland. May make them seek perfectionism. May also feel the best when OTHERS compliment them and may dress up for public acceptance and approval.

I have it and there are days when i feel like a medieval maid. I also feel like i dont have features that make me unique or stand out. I feel bland. Like wheat.

Alsooo bonus obv i feel like 2nd house stellium or taurus stellium tends to make a person resemble a bull. Its their nose idk why.

[morlock-holmes]

Still thinking about that Astral Codex Ten AI Art Turing test...

I mean... Obviously the one on the right is the human one. Is this some kind of prank? Am I on candid camera?

My suspicion is that what this test demonstrates most conclusively is that we are so thoroughly bombarded with images that we have developed the defensive measure of paying as little attention to them as possible.

We get the gist and then move on as quickly as possible.

Here's someone who did much better than I did on this test explaining their results.

This demonstrates fairly conclusively that nearly all the AI images Alexander chose do in fact, have "tells" which are extremely plain when you attend closely to the details.

In fact, I managed to get 2 out of every 3 correct even with an incredibly lazy and fast-paced assessment carried out on my phone without much recourse to fine detail.

There are two trends I noticed in the comments of the results post.

First, a significant number of ACX posters harbor a suspicion and resentment towards art and good taste, which leads them to suspect that all artistic judgement is essentially arbitrary and based on clout. They don't notice the difference, so there must not be a difference.

Second, a number of people who are clearly AI skeptics gave ground and accepted the idea that the AI images were lacking in "tells" and were especially good, and instead attempted to attack the test on the grounds that this kind of curation was itself unfair.

Both responses indicate, to me, both a fascination with images and a kind of, for lack of a better word, illiteracy about them.

And perhaps most interestingly this illiteracy doesn't seem to obviously vary between pro and anti-AI readers.

To go back to the side by side landscapes up there, the landscape on the left probably has the fewest obvious "tells" of AI art, maybe of all the AI images.

It's also just, you know, a much worse piece of art than the one on the right?

To go back to what I said in an earlier post, the painting on the right draws the eye down the hill. The two figures on the path are expertly set off so that even though they are barely suggested with just a couple of brush strokes, they immediately stand out and draw the eye, causing you to follow the same path they are taking down into the village.

Contrast the image on the left. Which part of the painting is your eye drawn to first? It could really by almost anywhere. No part of the picture is more important than any other, there's very little contrast between, say, the village on the right and the wildflowers on the left. What detail there is is largely because, well, otherwise there wouldn't be a painting.

If you asked 100 art critics which of those paintings was by a renowned master and which one you found hanging in a dentist's office I think all 100 would give you the same answer.

Or take this one:

If you really, really zoom in on the hand on our right, the anatomy is probably wonky, but I didn't notice that, I just thought,

"Okay, but, like, what is this angel, like... Doing?"

This figure, painted in this style, is rife with symbolism. Most likely an angel, or at the very least Icarus, it ought to be extremely clear what sort of emotional/cultural/allegorical/etc. meaning is being communicated, but it is just sort of... looking off yearningly towards nothing.

Culturally, it's just not something that a human would paint as a finished piece.

Actually in general AI seems to tend to either not have a clear focal point, or to have one extremely obvious subject placed right smack dab in the center of the frame.

One of the subtle visual gags in Monty Python and The Holy Grail is that the peasants are often doing things that look, on very cursory examination, as though they are some kind of agricultural activity, but actually they are just hitting random patches of ground with a stick or sitting on the ground and moving mud into a big pile.

And same with this Angel; it looks, at casual glance, to be doing "Angel type stuff" and if you just keep moving you leave with the impression that everything was fine.

But if you stop yourself, go back, and ask, "Wait, specifically what is it doing?" you really can't come up with anything more specific than, "Angel type stuff".

This sort of vagueness is also a tell of AI art.

If what I'm saying sounds a bit frustrated or mean-spirited I think it's because looking at this test has solidified something that I haven't really been able to articulate before, which sort of sums up to the vast majority of talk about AI, regardless of what the conclusion is, evidences a strong emotional investment in images paradoxically combined with a sort of estrangement from them and often even a strong resentment towards them.

Both pro and anti-AI imagery camps contain a tremendous number of people who feel imagery as a kind of imposition, with AI as either an emancipatory force aimed at a tyrannical art world bent on crushing us with arbitrary, incomprehensible images or, on the other hand, as a tyrannical force set to flood us helplessly with a set of incomprehensible images almost entirely against our will.

[nekropsii]

Wild how when I call Shipping Culture oppressively pervasive and awful for any Aro/Ace with the gall to enjoy anything on the Internet, I get called a Fun-Hating Killjoy and told to just shut the fuck up or off myself, no matter how mild or polite my comment is. Wild how when I say a character either is textually Aro/Ace or is easier to read as Aro/Ace than Alloromantic/sexual, people start talking down to me like I'm a child who doesn't know anything, saying "Friendly reminder that Aro(s)/Aces can Date/Have Sex too, just like us Normal People!". As if I don't know anything about my own identity. Wild how when I do either of these things or even just say I'm not into a pairing or uninvested in shipping in general people call me fucking homophobic, even if the (at least popularly perceived - let's be honest, people are wrong half the time) genders of the characters is never once made relevant. Even though their reasoning for me being homophobic is lack of investment in a gay pairing they like, and nothing more. Wild how people throw little baby tantrums at even the gentlest criticism of Shipping Culture, or someone choosing not to engage heavily in it. Wild how they have the audacity to ask, with hostility, what the fuck Aro(s)/Aces are talking about when they say Shipping Culture is hostile to Aro/Ace fans, or ask what's wrong with them when they say that they aren't into Shipping.

It's almost like Bigots don't realize they're being Bigots when they do Bigotry, so just saying you're not a Bigot isn't enough. It's almost like Aro/Ace people know what the hell they're talking about. It's almost like we have a fucking point. It's almost like we're valid in expressing contempt and frustration with the constant expectation to engage with Romance and Sexuality at every waking moment, even if we're Romance and/or Sex Favorable. It's almost like we're tired of getting our identities erased, and we're tired of expecting to "act normal", and we're tired of just taking it when Allos use the Favorable members of our communities as a scapegoat for why they should be allowed to totally erase any of our representation just for their "Harmless Queer Fun" - deliberately, and I mean DELIBERATELY, failing to recognize or acknowledge the character's orientation, and how an A-Spec's personal relationship with and expressions of Love are going to look drastically different from an Allo person's - and call us the Bigots when we even glance in the direction of objection.

It's almost like Allo/Amatonormativity are oppressive forces.

Alloromantics/sexuals are constantly looking for any reason they can to call Aro(s)/Aces unloving, unfeeling, frigid, soulless, cruel. Inhuman. They're looking for any reason they can to call us whiny children, stupid, people who "just haven't found the right one", addressing us only as "Works in Progress", or someone who can have their sexuality corrected with the right stimulus - Conversion Therapy and Corrective Rape are okay when it happens to us, after all. Any reason at all to call us heartless monsters. AlloAces are confused children. They can be fixed. AroAllos are manipulative, unfeeling sexual predators. They can't be fixed - just kill them. AroAces are frigid, mean bitches. They can be fixed. God forbid you're Aplatonic. God forbid you're part of the Repulsed spectrum. God forbid you're one of the Loveless. God forbid you hold any pride in your identity, God forbid you don't keep your mouth shut, God forbid you critique the overinflated importance Allos place onto Love as a concept. God forbid you critique something as asinine and juvenile as fucking Shipping Culture. Do any one of these and you've put a bright red, blazing neon target on your back.

Wild how the only real humans amongst us are the Romance, Sex, and Friendship Favorable who put their head down and mask as Allo, and side with the Allos when their fellow A-Specs get too loud for the comfort of their Allo friend's delicate little fee-fees. After all, Vitriol and Harassment are warranted when an Allo's feelings get slightly hurt that an Aro person says, on their own account, to no one in particular, that they're sick of every tag being 80% Shipping Content. Which is a vehemently evil personal attack, clearly.

Wild.

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, brief mentions of violence, hospitals, poor writing, possible ooc,

Part 8: happy home

🔹🔹🔹

You're officially going ‘home’ today, the doctors have decided that you're well enough to get the boot. It's a little strange to think about, as much as you hate this place it's also the only point of this world you actually know. You have no other base here, no aliases, no hidden safehouse, no Natalia, just you and some strangers. There's been a tension in your shoulders all day, thankfully no one's commented on it yet.

“Are you ready mx Wayne? I've prepared one of the more subtle cars today.” The older man comments respectfully, he's tall, thin, almost haggardly so. yet he carries himself like a military general. Mr pennyworth is an odd one for sure, he eyes the clothes he brought you critically, like he's nitpicking the minute details of you while speaking in respectful deference. It's almost amusing.

“One of the - do you think we'll be attacked or something.” Your tone is flat, yet your words are meant in jest. Though you are curious just how much your husband wastes on cars if there's a selection to pick from.

“If the paparazzi got a sniff of you, then yeah. Might as well count as an attack.” The tall kid mutters as he grabs your bag off the bed, you should probably start calling him Jason instead of the tall one, but eh.

You briefly eye the bag, the only things of ‘yours’ in it is your phone, your medication, and the syringe you managed to keep all this time. You'd tucked that under a layer when you were changing out of the stupid hospital clothes in the bathroom.

“…why would they care about someone leaving a hospital? Isn't Bruce the famous one of the two of us?” The thought annoys and baffles you, most of your experience with press was them accusing you of various assassinations and demanding you be locked away so you're not exactly too keen to run into issue here.

“Mx Wayne, you are a minor celebrity, whether you remember it or not. Being ‘just the spouse’ doesn't mean you're completely hidden in Bruce's shadow.” Mr pennyworth says firmly, his posture straightening slightly, his chin tilting up, he's trying to be firm, He clearly wants to get the message through you.

“…alright, point taken. Shall we?” You start towards the door to your room, both relieved and pissed to leave this place.

“Ahem, are you forgetting doctor's orders?” The tall one- Jason grabs the handles of your wheelchair in the corner, in that moment you want to grab it and throw it off the rooftop.

🔹🔹🔹

You slide the sunglasses a little higher up your nose as you approach the doors, Jason pushing your chair and holding your bag on his arm while Alfred walks in front of you both towards the back exit. Your thoughts drifting towards the next steps, planning your next move…. But why? what exactly are you doing? Playing pretend out of habit, no real mission here. No loyalty or fealty to uphold. No goal in mind. It's a strange train in thought to hit you right as your bathing wheeled out the door by your supposed kid.

You nearly swing an elbow when something is suddenly shoved in your face, a microphone hitting your chin while Jason curses loudly behind you and body blocks the reporter, the duo had been hiding in the bushes like a couple of wild animals.

“Mx Wayne! A word! A word please!” The dark haired woman persists, flailing around Jason while shouting at you, waving her microphone like she's wielding a weapon. “Any comment on your hospital stay? What did you think of your attackers trial? Are the rumors true that you're splitting from Mr Wayne due to your injuries?”

“No comment, don't you people have anyone else to harass?” Jason barks at them, now it's clear to you why he insisted on coming today, he's practically a shield with his stature.

The cameraman tries to slip past Jason, practically kicking at him as he tries to get a close-up of your face. Alfred all but shoves past him as he quickly takes over Jason's job of pushing your chair, grumbling quietly so only you can hear him.

“dear Lord above, no manners these days…”

You're tense, even that small interaction has you feeling put off and unsettled, you're secretive by nature, feeling at odds with yourself already, and now someone's trying to plaster your face on a channel or magazine? Treating you like the press treats Stark? It feels like your skin is crawling, a deeply unsettled feeling nestles in your stomach as you're quickly helped into a car.

🔹🔹🔹

You stare up at the mansion with a neutral expression as you drive up to it, well as the butler drives. Him and Jason have been discussing your physical therapy schedule for a few minutes now while you quietly stare up the long driveway, something about attending every week and needing shots every few days, you really should pay more attention. Gather Intel while you can, yet you're more focused on your newfound freedom.

…Though with the way this place is built, you're still not so free. The manor could pass for a sanitarium, large gates surround the property and you think you can see evidence of security cameras on key points, you agreed to come to this place for appearance sake, but now you kinda wish you'd demanded your own apartment instead. Something private where you wouldn't be locked in a house full of strangers calling you their parent.

“…do you recall anything about this place? Anything…reminding you of anything or…” the butler questions you when he notices your focus elsewhere, Jason glances from the passenger seat back at you with what you can only call a hopeful look in his eyes.

You shake your head slowly, watching as you wheel closer to your next lock-in. “No…nothing at all…tell me a little about it?” Your response is automatic, tone shifting to curiosity and meekness as you meet their stares, though inside you feel hollow as the car parks.

🔹🔹🔹

“-and this is one of your favorite rooms, the library.” Alfred gestures broadly as he opens the double doors, just like with every other room he's shown you.

“Alright…”

You step inside with Jason grabbing your arm like you'll fall on your face, and take it in, the room could pass as part of a public library. It smells musty and old, aging paper and real leather furniture apparent, you walk towards a random shelf and slowly trail your fingers across the spines as you read the titles, Austen, Dickens, Hemingway, Woolf, brontë, the Wayne's are big collectors of the classics it seems.

You glance over your shoulder, catching Jason settling on an armchair with a book in hand, Alfred stands at the door and just…watches you. The old fellow is quite observant you've noticed.

“Something wrong, Mr pennyworth?” your voice is gentle, watching him as closely as he watches you. He shifts just slightly, expression not changing even as Jason looks up from his book to watch.

“Not at all, master Wayne. Are you feeling up for more of the tour? There's still the sitting rooms and the sleeping areas, oh, and the cellars. Silly me.” He's equally gentle, yet you get the feeling this is suddenly a game of some sort. Something telling you to keep a lid on around him.

You fully turn to face him, hand dropping back at your side. “I'm surprisingly tired, to be frank. As little as I've done today…” you don't need to put on an act for that, you're actually exhausted, have been since the paparazzi incident as you left the hospital.

It's silent for a beat, Jason looks between the two of you with a confused furrow on his brow. You and the butler staring at each other like this is a game of cat and mouse. Finally the butler speaks.

“Yes that would happen, being hospitalized for as long as you were can have…. Strange effects on one. Come along if you're able.” He turns on his heel and leaves without waiting to see if you'll follow.

Your brow furrows just a second as you walk after him, was he implying something?

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: we're finally out of the hospital! It only took *checks notes* eight chapters. Lol the interactions are gonna be a lot more interesting now hopefully 😉

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet

[liillyliilly]

I Need A Challenge

ushijima wakatoshi x reader words; 3804 synopsis; she writes a scathing review of ushijima's volleyball skills. how else should he respond if not by inviting her out to dinner?

She was tired of people like him. People who had no reason to be so stereotypically perfect. Everyone knows the type, comically good looking, is a prodigy in their one specific thing, acting so nonchalant that it ends up becoming their token personality trait. It was all so boring to her.

Which is why, as she was taking notes in the most recent Volleyball Nations League game, she wrote down some very harsh words for her analysis of star spiker Ushijima Wakatoshi. It was just the brutally honest truth of the world, she reasoned. Her editor, after reading the article she wrote at the game, almost dropped their jaw in shock at what she had written.

“This is really,” Editor Xhou sucked in some air through his teeth, “This is almost borderline libel material.”

She inspected her nails, shrugging as Xhou kept talking to her.

“I mean, you said that he is, and I quote from your own words, ‘Ushijima is the default setting for a volleyball player, there’s nothing too particularly unique’. You want me to let the paper publish this?” Xhou leans back into his office chair, pushing his glasses up and sighing.

“I write the truth, and the truth is that when Ushijima is on the court, you always know the exact plays he’ll make, the exact moves he’ll execute. The result is consistently the same. The games are too predictable when he plays.” She stands up from the seat opposite to Xhou.

Xhou sets the paper on his desk, checking that she really is okay with the article having her name attached to it.

A thumbs up is the only response she gives to her supervisor.

Xhou stamps the paper with his name, and faxes the documents to the coordinator putting together the sports magazine review for this issue. He wonders if the legal team is going to get involved again, he remembers the last player she reviewed, he was crushed and had to move to Alaska to play in a much smaller league. Xhou fully believes he’s going to get the magazine sued for letting her article fly.

Tendou finishes his squat set, hanging up the weights with a heave. Ushijima finishes his hundredth bicep curl, finally finishing his repetitions of this exercise.

Tendou pokes some fun, “I'm so sad for people without legs, they have to skip leg day.” He muses, trying to see what reaction or comment his best friend will make. Tendou twists and flexes in the full length mirrors lining the gym.

Ushijima only responds with a nod. He checks his phone, only to see that he’s received a little over four hundred notifications and counting. The beeping and noises start to pile up. Tendou peeks over Ushijima’s shoulder and gasps, he steals Ushijima’s phone away and immediately investigates what all the hustle and bustle could be related to.

“You should probably read this article, I think the writer has it out for your throat Wakatoshi.” Tendou grimaces while handing the phone back.

He skims the article, viewing the main talking points and major issues the author brings to light about his play style. His boring, everyday genius playstyle. He’s read criticisms of his volleyball skills before, but this one doesn’t seem too targeted solely about him, just using him as the mechanism to get a broader point across about the lack of challenges in volleyball recently. He chuckles at one of her comments, reading it aloud.

“Monster generation? I need a real challenge from these players, but all they’re giving me is platinum dreams without true passion and anger for the sport. I want them foaming at the mouth with new tricks, but I’m getting the same exact game over and over again.” Tendou cringes as Ushijima reads the words out loud. Ushijima stifles another chuckle.

Ushijima tucks his phone into his pocket, picking up his duffel bag. “I like her. She knows volleyball.”

It wasn’t just her comments, it was also the name of the author that Ushijima liked.

Tendou drops his water bottle in response to Ushijima’s behavior, stunned at the openness of amusement he has for the article and for the investment he has for this particular reporter.

Ushijima’s manager says that she’ll have a cease and desist letter issued to the paper for publishing such a slanderous piece. Ushijima proposes an entirely different solution.

She didn’t expect to be sitting at a restaurant, pencil and paper in hand, waiting for someone she just dragged through the mud to arrive so they could share a meal and an interview.

It was winter, and her reading glasses had fogged up slightly in the difference between the outdoors temperature and the warmth of the restaurant. The main features of the restaurant was the Western Style dining choices and decor, it reminded her almost of a hibachi place, but instead of Japanese food it was just a bunch of American and European dishes.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Ushijima pulls out his chair and settles into it, grabbing his glass of water so he can drink from it.

“High school seemed so long ago, but yes it is nice to see you again Wakatoshi. Sorry for the piece, your name just carries the right amount of importance to get my bigger points across.” She crosses her legs, setting her pencil behind her ear. The waiter comes around and takes their orders. He asks for the salmon, and she gets the house soup.

“No, I totally get it. But the statement about how people just continually eat up the single dish I serve? I thought you would’ve found a better analogy for my consistency on the court.” He just smiles at her, watching her move the pencil from behind her ear to her mouth so she could chew on it a little. One of her tells of when she was deeply thinking about how to respond to something.

Ushijima remembers all the stories she would write back in high school, ranging from sports analysis of Shiratorizawa clubs for her journalism extracurricular to getting paid to write love letters from person to person. She garnered enough money to pay for a new laptop and her entire wishlist of stationery items.

He remembers her lending him a pen once during class, it was a weightier metal pen. The ink was so black he was sure it was made of pure darkness. While he admired the pen she went into a rant talking about the pen itself, the quality of it and how it took forever to be delivered to her. They both got chastised by the teacher for having a side conversation and had to sit outside the classroom. But they ended up talking outside the classroom despite being told not to.

“Like you’d know what a good analogy looks like.” She hides her smirk behind a spoonful of soup. Ushijima appreciates her ability to be unapologetic, her honesty and bluntness matching his own linguistic traits.

They talk for three hours, about volleyball, life after high school, the article she wrote, about friends and the situations they found themselves in. Ushijima talks about Tendou and his chocolatier aspirations, she brings up Semi Eita’s new album that actually sounded truly alternative and unique.

He remembers her having a crush on Semi throughout high school. He didn’t really see why she would sit at their practices sometimes, just sighing wistfully, before freezing and turning flustered when Semi tried to make conversation like a normal person. But when Semi was seen to be a slight habitual complainer, she grew a distaste for him. Ushijima was sure that Semi was her longest crush, clocking in at around two months or so.

Ushijima did enjoy that she came to their practices sometimes, because then he could ask her about her pen collection and she would openly, loudly, and enthusiastically layer on every detail she could fit into her remarks. And she was someone who asked him about his favorite things, primarily volleyball but also about reading the advertisements in the Weekly Shonen Jump Magazine. Or about how good a runner’s high could feel sometimes.

Around her, he could share without fear of being misunderstood. She just accepted what she heard, and then analyzed it, taking her time and asking clarifying questions. He did his best to emulate her mannerisms and tact within their conversations, usually failing, but she didn’t mind.

She did openly declare an aversion for him throughout high school, that genius powerhouses should never be entertained with acknowledgement. What others considered harsh from her was almost like beaming encouragement for him. It was like she was telling him, if he didn’t continually improve and advance then the stagnation would leave him in the dust. A push in the right direction was more accurate of why she would say what she did about him.

He takes the bill from her, puts his gold debit card on the clipboard, and returns it to the waiter before she can even open her purse. Rolling her eyes, she sets some bills on the table and slides it over to him. Glaring at him until he accepts the cash and puts the bills into his wallet.

“Are you dating anyone right now?” Ushijima inquires while they walk down the street to get to the train station. The night air leaves a chill around the two of them. He had his hands tucked into his pockets, and she had her arms folded over her body.

Snow falls from the sky, catching the lights and making streaks of color burst in small flickers like fireflies. The piled up snow in the roads hadn’t yet been plowed thoroughly, and wasn’t sullied with pollution that made it yellow and black. The snow was much more like a blanket.

“Listen, I’m what people consider easy to love but hard to please. Most people say they felt like they were never enough for me when we were dating.” She bites on her bottom lip a little. It’s a confusing feeling to be unnerved by him, and she feels even more uneasy when she realizes that she’s speaking too openly. “I don’t intentionally degrade those I date, I just, I have high expectations. I don’t give many second chances.”

His breath comes out in puffs of white, winter nipping at his nose which makes him feel uncomfortable. He wonders if she’s as cold as him. He knew that she had high expectations, none of the boys at their high school got remotely close to being romantically involved with her. She wanted more than what most people could offer. She wanted someone who was as open as her.

She feels a little guilty about her article now. Maybe she pushed the words a little too much on his bad qualities. Ushijima really wasn’t that bad, he was just dependable and rational, which crafted his playstyle of being an ultimate pillar of strength for a team. Why shouldn’t a team go with the most reliable way of scoring points? Then she shooed the thought. If volleyball wanted to keep being popular, it needed to evolve.

“I liked your article a lot.” He offers, segwaying the conversation, knowing her thoughts better than she knew them. “Power goes far, but even then, there’s ceilings that need to be broken. There’s talents that need to be unearthed, planted, and then allowed to bloom.”

They sit on the bench under the covering for the train station. The screen shows that the train she needs to take will come in around ten minutes.

“Thanks. My editor was worried you were going to sue me for what I wrote.” She laughs a little, rubbing her hands against her thighs to build up some lingering heat in her hands and her body.

He passes her his gloves from his jacket pocket. Making a small hum he waves them in front of her. She accepts and embraces the black fleece covering her fingers.

“Oh, no, there’s no way I’d want you to be sued. But I do want you to add another part to the article.” He blows some air onto his hands, rubbing them together. She raises an eyebrow inquisitively, turning towards him on the bench.

Once he had finished reading her piece on Ushijima’s game, he went through and read all her other articles. He found out her favorite current player was actually Hinata Shouyou, the energetic innovator. She had written about his unique approach, due to natural athleticism. Also about his experience in Brazilian beach volleyball making his defense skills unique in the field of both Japanese volleyball and on a global scale. It was all about Hinata this, Hinata that. But could the ultimate decoy ever compare to the pillar of strength?

“What do you want me to change? I can’t make any promises.”

“Say I’m your number one, because I don’t do last place.” Ushijima lifted her chin up, looking right into her eyes. He inspects her face, the small miniscule motions her features display show that she’s listening, actively listening. “Did I ever mention that you’re the only one that has my attention?”

She really was. The only reporter he cared to give quotes to after big games, the only girl who he ever wondered if there was any possibility to develop a relationship with. He was hooked on every word she wrote, every interview she hosted online. She was in his world, but never overlapped her social circle with his for longer than an hour at best.

She swallows thickly, “I’m sorry to say this, but I really am unimpressed by your playstyle.”

He raises an eyebrow, sliding his hand from her chin to the side of her neck. He can feel the way her pulse is racing under her skin.

“We both know that’s not true.”

Her train arrived. She ducked under his hand and made her way onto the train. Before the sliding door closes, she motions him closer so she doesn't have to yell.

“Then show me your talents. I need a challenger for my first place.”

Tendou lies on his stomach on the floor, Ushijima is reviewing some plays written by his coach. He scans for any play that could show off his left hand spikes, or any play that he could try and improvise a receive if he wasn’t on the front row rotation. The plays are different from what he’s used to. But his coach said that they were all optional, and that Ushijima’s playstyle was perfectly fine as it was. But ‘fine as is’ doesn’t earn him any accolades in her book.

Tendou perks up, “I always felt like fighting had romantic undertones.” He references what Ushijima had told him about how the dinner with his reporter went last week.

“But I don’t want to fight her? I’d hardly call a slight disagreement a fight.” Ushijima sets aside the packet he had been studying.

He opens his phone and refreshes the webpage for the newspaper she worked for. When nothing pops up under her name, he goes to the calendar page to see if she’d be attending an upcoming game he’d be playing in. He sets his phone aside when he realizes she will in fact be in attendance.

“But you do want to fight for her ‘first place’ hottie player ranking.” Tendou kicks his feet in the air, crossing his feet and tapping the top of his head.

Ushijima stands up and goes to check his closet, seeing if he needs to get a tighter jersey for the upcoming game. “She never used the word ‘hottie’ when talking about her favorite player.”

“So you admit that you do want to be her favorite player?”

Ushijima finishes trying on the jersey over his long sleeve compression shirt, the jersey fitted better than he remembered. He tugs on the front of the uniform. Then what Tendou said clicks for him.

Ushijima blinks, “I do want to be her favorite player.” He doesn’t see why he would deny that observation. Being her favorite player would be the ideal situation for him.

Tendou rolls over onto his back and wiggles his pointer fingers in the air, “You want to be more than just her favorite player.” He sings the words in a teasing manner.

“Maybe I do.”

One time, near the end of high school, she was talking during lunch. Her friends were uninterested, wanting to discuss boys or homework instead of her critical worldview analysis. Her table was right next to the table that Ushijima and Tendou were sitting at, their volleyball friends already outside tossing around a ball.

Ushijima listened in, drinking his milk while Tendou ate chicken nuggets. When her voice got quieter, almost to the point of fading out entirely due to her slowly realizing her friends were not as interested in the conversation as she was, Ushijima leaned in subconsciously, trying to catch her words.

Tendou pinched Ushijima, telling him that if he wanted to listen to her, he should ask her to come sit with them. Ushijima froze. So Tendou invited her to come sit with them. Placing her lunch tray down, she ate a carrot, sensing Ushijima’s hesitance and Tendou’s eagerness.

It was Ushijima that spoke first, “Keep going. You remind me of someone. He said almost the same thing, about his worthless pride and not forgetting about it.”

She brightens. Continuing her dissection of the value of pride, she refers to Ushijima as a reference point for pride. Using him in her examples and demonstrations of her illustrative examples. Around the third time she says his family name, he makes another request.

“You can just call me Wakatoshi.”

Tendou drops his chicken nugget, but quickly regains his pace in eating the arms off the dinosaurs.

She says his name, once and then twice. Letting it settle onto her tongue and leave a trace of what a first name basis could mean. Pondering on that instead of her newest philosophy interest is quickly dropped. She only ever calls him by his name from then on.

Needless to say, the next game he plays at, she’s there, with her notepad and pen. Each receive, hit, serve, and toss is carefully recorded on her paper.

He doesn’t do anything too off the typical, but he does try new things his coach had mentioned. Pressuring an opponent’s highest scorer more, trying a few block kills when he’s in the right rotation, scoring some points off the tip of the blockers hands instead of cutting right through their attempts to defend. He’s more tired after this game than his last one. Yet, he had more fun this time around. His teammates seemed thrilled with the results of never having a gap less than five points.

After the game, before he goes to the locker room to debrief with the team and change into regular clothes, he stalks his way over to her. She’s talking to another reporter that had been sitting in the media section, but the other reporter just elbows her lightly when he notices Ushijima making an attempt to approach. The other man slowly walks away, bidding her a farewell.

She’s still sitting on the bench, cheekily covering her notes with her hand, and writing something down. When he takes a place next to her, he spreads his legs a little, expanding his presence and bumping their thighs into each other. She initially retracts from the touch, but relaxes into it.

He’s aware that his body is thinly sheened with sweat. It drips from the hair at his nape down his back and soaks into his player kit. She brings her notepad up to her face, looking at him over the spiral binding of the paper. Trying to hide her comments and analysis of the game, which had been overwhelmingly positive for Ushijima.

“What’s your professional opinion of the game?” He uses a finger to push down her notepad that was covering her nose. A streak of ink and pencil lead was across her cheek and nose. He brought his thumb up and wiped away the markings. At first swipe, nothing moved, so he slid his thumb over again with just a little more pressure.

“It was entertaining in a different sense. Rather than being solely athletic entertainment.” She licks her own thumb and finishes wiping away all the marks that she could feel him trying to get rid of. She misses a sliver on the apple of her cheek but he doesn’t say anything, enjoying the way that it makes her seem less intimidating and more adorable.

“Care to share with the class?”

“Well, when a certain player keeps trying to make eye contact during the game, when he should instead be invested in the game, it does pose some interesting investigative questions.”

At this point, Ushijima slid his hand to her thigh, asking her to explain further, “Such as?”

“When will he get up the nerve to ask her on a date? Will he take her for a ride in that brand new car he got? Does he need glasses from how frequently it seemed he scrutinized the audience in search of her?” She pauses, then continues, “And will he be mad if she writes something about how attentive the setter was during the game?”

“Soon, for the date. Most definitely a long car ride to the mountains. His vision is actually perfectly 20/20, he just wanted to make sure she was having a good time by observing her reactions. No comments for the setter, he’s a rookie, and much less attentive than an older, more experienced player.”

She hums a little in regards to his answers to her inquiries. Soon, she tugs on the back of his hand, the hand that was resting on her thigh. She bites the cap off her pen, waving the pen in the air, close enough to his skin for him to understand the point of what she was communicating.

The pen tickled the skin of his hand, but he liked the way she put one hand under his to make his hand rest flat so she could write her piece on his body. Capping the pen back up, she tucked it behind her ear.

Written on his hand was a series of numbers, along with a small doodle of a volleyball.

Getting up from her spot on the media bench, she leaves him with a short statement.

“I liked your response to my challenge. Keep making the Monster Generation bloom with each game Wakatoshi.” She halts for a moment, then turns back to him, “You can be my number one on those conditions. Blooming the Monsters and responding to my challenges.”

He’d return every challenge she gave him if it meant he could be hers.

[howiscallmewhateveridctaken]

Lmfaooo what a week 😅

So a lot of people are, understandably, leaving the fandom. Drama like this always tends to put people off and unfortunately that affects the media they’ve come to love. I’m not going to be one of those people bc honestly, I don’t even know if I was ever that “in” the fandom in the first place to even leave it. My account isn’t and never was a nevermore account, yes I’ve made a few nevermore post but those were infrequent and amongst posts and reblogs of multiple other fandoms. I’m also in the discord server but I’ve only ever been a lurker, and usually only ever go in it when I want more context to something I’ve seen on tumblr. With that being said however, I still plan on reading nevermore when (or if) it continues because in THIS particular instance I can easily separate art from the artist and I’ll explain why in a moment.

Like I said I’m not and never have been very active in the fandom. I learned about this drama through a post from an account I follow and went through the server to find more context. I was not present through any of the actual conflicts but I’ve seen the conversations.

So why am I commenting on this?

Well mainly I want to make a point about para social relationships as well as moderation of servers and fandoms as a creator.

I just want to preface this by saying that after reading through all possible context, perspectives, takes and evidence I could find or come across, I genuinely don’t think red is necessarily a bad/morally wrong person. I DO however think she is in the wrong in this situation especially due to how she handled everything. As for how a lot of people are reacting to everything, there’s a couple of things I’d like to note:

From what I’ve seen, all of this is just one big thing of “he said/she said” and pointing fingers as well as just picking sides. If your absolutely distraught because red didn’t turn out to be the person you thought they were simply because she said things you didn’t like, I understand the disappointment and frustration but please remember that content creators in general aren’t your friends. You don’t know these people, they just do things you happen to like. Now I’m not saying you SHOULDN’T feel upset about it, it’s ok to and you even should if it’s an issue to you feel strongly about but please keep in mind that this isn’t a “sign of their true colors” or anything because you don’t know what they were actually like to begin with. Ofc I don’t mean that to say “expect the worst from people” but more as a reminder that can hopefully help you to look at the situation more critically and logically before jumping in guns blazing. It’s understandable if it affects you emotionally, you were emotionally invested in their work; but please realize this before you let it get to that point. Now on the other side of the coin, there’s the people who I feel as though will just pick the creators side simply because they’re fanboys and will stand by them no matter what. I’m DEFINITELY NOT saying that’s what everyone who’s on red side is, but naturally there’s bound to be a few that are going to dickride for the sake of dickriding. Regardless, there’s a lack of willingness to listen and understand from both sides (at least from what I’ve noticed) and that’s a problem because when no one wants to listen then what’s supposed to be a community coming together to resolve an issue just turns into a giant flame war. Also this should go without saying, but at least give the mods a chance. They obviously handled the whole situation horrendously but they aren’t going to do their jobs any better when they’ve got people coming at them with pitchforks.

Speaking of the moderators. I genuinely can’t wrap my head around how red and the other mods have managed to fumble this badly…….like it’s almost funny. All said and done they all had ONE very simple job and they blew it. Although I very much disagree with it, I do understand red’s decision to unban crimson. They wanted to give them a second chance, sure whatever. What I DONT GET is why would they not at the very least check to see if anyone else would be comfortable with a decision that would possibly affect them or even impact their safety. At the very least a warning to or a discussion with the victims would have been something. Not only that but even after they unban them, once red saw the NUMEROUS amount of people that were upset about it they, they should have immediately banned them again and then apologize after instead of some rushed explanation. But I get it stress gets the better of you. I understand their desire to keep things as transparent as possible (which i appreciate and I’m sure so do many others) but from that first apology/explanation it felt more like red trying to shake responsibility off themselves and pointing fingers in the guise of being transparent. I did see where red was trying to get at in her first statement, but there was also things that she honestly should have just had the foresight to realize wouldn’t put her in a better light, and this is aside from the victim blaming-esque wording. red basically says that she felt like a group of people (including Laci the one who reported crimson) were just out to get crimson, which is absolutely insane but then again it’s the internet so who knows. However it’s super clear that Laci obviously wasn’t lying bc the things she accused crimson of did in fact happen. So even bringing that up was enough for me to raise my eyebrow at but I digress. Then red practically says it was hard to handle the situation bc the evidence provided was censored, but Laci literally offered to give the uncensored versions so that was completely disingenuous on red’s part at best. To me it just seemed like the mods were looking for excuses for what could be there own laziness at best and negligence at worst. Their biggest fault so far is not being very good at actually listening to their audience and taking them into consideration. She also brought up that fact that Laci was apparently the only person to report crimson which I did not like to say the least. One of the victims confided in Laci and Laci brought it forward. I understand reds suspicions about Laci not being in the actual server where it happened but how are you going to immediately jump to “well why did no one else bring it up” instead of stopping for a sec and thinking “ hm clearly these victims feel uncomfortable stepping forward”. Which they had to do now anyway because of how bad the issue became. They should not have had to do that. Better it be just one person reporting, even if it’s someone you don’t like, than no one reporting and the issue persists under the radar.

And then there’s red’s formal apology…

First off, girl why are you dropping names??? A bunch of who are supposedly minors? Like let’s be so fucking for real right now😭

And then the audacity to be like “please don’t go after or dm these people” like babes if you were genuinely worried about them you wouldn’t have used their names at all. ESPECIALLY when in the end it was completely irrelevant and borderline inappropriate since it really had nothing to do with crimson, their actions or how you handled them. Not to mention the act of calling them “cliques” when literally all they were was side servers. Like if they’re cliques then what does that make red and everyone who’s on her side? It was very clearly just a biased reaction to people saying things she doesn’t like about her, which by all means she has the right to respond to but not in a way that is clearly trying to sway how everyone else sees them. The way red describes everything is as if it’s middle school drama and then proceeds to play directly into it. Don’t get me wrong her apology was fine, when she was ACTUALLY apologizing. Everything else felt like a last ditch effort to drag others under the bus with her. It was lowkey embarrassing to say the least.

Again, it’s important that I make it clear that I don’t believe red is a bad person. I just think she’s an immature person, or at least she is in how she handled everything and continues to handle it bc like I said I don’t know her, and don’t care to frankly. I didn’t start reading nevermore to be buddy buddy with her. Like if we look at the grand scope of things, this is a grown woman beefing with kids. Obviously they aren’t all kids, most of them aren’t I believe but she’s practically stooping down to school yard conflict in how she’s responded so far. Especially at one point in the server when she was being called out and jumped to “yeah I guess I’m the bad guy and totally evil. You all should hate me”. Like actually cut that shit out, what are you doing. I mean honestly.

And my final point because I’ve ranted long enough. I mentioned before that in this instance I am willing to separate the art from the artist, I stand by that because I genuinely do think this is a situation where red could hopefully grow from this and rectify things. The actual unbanning was a stupid and inconsiderate move on her part, but I don’t think she meant any ill-will or had any malicious intent. I disagree with the people calling her a r@pe apologist because that’s honestly just a huge reach. I’ve also seen some accusations of red and/or Flynn being racist, promoting inappropriate art knowing there’s minors around and from what I’ve seen it’s pretty iffy. Regarding the racism, I don’t believe that they are. Their characterizations of the characters regarding their ethnicities IS stereotypical and was obviously just very surface level research into those respective cultures but I chopped that up to ignorance rather than racism. As a woc I was frankly just relived they didn’t make the poc characters centered on some kind of discrimination or tragedy from their era, which yes is something that shouldn’t be ignored but also I don’t know if rednflynn could accurately and more importantly, respectfully portray those types of issues. Nor is it even their place tbh. With that being said however I don’t belong to most of the cultures the characters belong to. To me it never seemed like they were making a caricature out of these cultures, especially since their ethnicities are barely relevant to their stories anyway but I acknowledge that it’s not my place to deem what’s offensive or not.

As for the promoting inappropriate art of the characters and creating some themselves. Yeah they do. I’ve never been shocked about that nor did I think it was something that they are wrong for doing, I mean it’s their own work. Granted I didn’t realize how many minors were in the fandom but that’s literally every fandom, there’s only so much you could do about it. I don’t know if nevermore has a rating but it’s not like it was something ever promoted to be kid friendly, it’s obvious that some scenes are just straight up fan service. While I personally don’t like fan service it never was enough to impact the story so I personally never saw an issue. But point is I don’t think they should have to monitor what is and isn’t appropriate for minors but things get tricky when they have a server where they are clearly aware of minors.

And then there’s other things like people accusing them of promoting SA or some shit like that bc of a lot of stuff involving Montessor which frankly, that’s just a media literacy issue on the readers part. So yeah with that being said I don’t think red is a bad person, although I understand why a lot of people are done with them which is completely fair. I’m pretty much in a grey area about it, who knows if they end up getting in an even bigger scandal, hopefully they come out better from this but only time will tell. The best/smartest thing red has said throughout this entire debacle was that they’re taking a step back from the fandom. I think it’ll be good for everyone, especially them. It seems like it’ll take stress off them anyway. Plus the hole they’ve dug for themselves is already halfway to china by now so there’s that

[scurvyboy]

I'm sorry Stan is a misogynist. He does sexist shit in Tourist Trapped, Headhunters, The Hand that Rocks the Mabel, Dipper vs Manliness, Dreamscaperers, Roadside Attraction, and probably more but those are the notable ones where he either harassed women, tried to dictate or disparage a woman's interests, held men to standards of toxic masculinity, or encouraged other men to harass women. "Stan worked through his misogyny in the seventies" he absolutely did not he at the most generous estimation started working on it in 2012. Like write him however you want but if we're talking "there's no textual evidence for someone not being a misogynist" there is absolutely no textual evidence that Stan ever "worked through his misogyny" in the 70s and 80s. He literally arranged a marriage between Mabel and Gideon for profit what do you MEAN he's not a misogynist. "It makes Ford a better character to work through a big flaw" and what does taking away a flaw do for Stan???

to be clear, i never claimed that stan is a perfect person or not misogynistic either. i'd be lying if i were to say that he's completely absolved of criticism for how he acts because of the analysis on his past. he's a much more sympathetic character than ford is but that doesn't mean that i'm not taking his faults into question. obviously he's going to be kind of misogynistic and make off color comments to women, he's an elderly capitalist. however, i choose to look at him with a little more nuance than "he either is a bad person or he isn't." he's a complex character, just like ford is.

as for the things he does: the arranged marriage was more of him jumping on an investment opportunity, i doubt he would force mabel to have a baby with gideon or something. his demeaning statements towards dippers masculinity stem from his own upbringing and insecurities. again, i'm not absolving him if criticism because of my analysis of him in the 80's, i just think it's kind of ridiculous that you're assuming that i think he has no faults. it's almost like all of the people in this show are well rounded and have both good and bad characteristics.

[loveanddeepspice]

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis:  you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating:  18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw:  religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter:  2 / ?

✞ co-authors:  redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link:  here

✞ chapter synopsis: Your hometown's fall festival leads to chance encounters with old friends and an alluring new priest—again.

✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for upates!

Sunday came around sooner than you expected.

What bothered you wasn't that your father wanted you to join him at Mass; it was that you hadn't been able to get the priest's voice out of your head. And up until that morning, you had been trying to imagine what he looked like. 

You tried to maintain your composure. Convince yourself that your agitation was from waking up early. Remind yourself that you were sitting in this pew because your dad sat next to you and occasionally commented about something that had happened while you were away. 'Those two are married now, and those two over there are having a baby; Talia's nephew was having a hard time, so he moved back home.' 

From your spot, sunlight was starting to glare through the church windows, casting a warm glow over everyone in the room. The shift from the congregation doesn't startle you but brings your attention toward the front. 

He is nothing like you would have imagined. Father Sylus is young, handsome, and unnervingly tall. Wisps of his silver hair fall gently over his crimson eyes – eyes that fix on the room. The corner of his lip tucked up to one side, giving him a mischievous look. You could see the youth in him, living an immortal life based on religion alone. 

Mass had always been dull to you, even as a child. But today, you suddenly focused more on the new priest than anything else. And when he opened his mouth, you could only stare at him. 

Each word fell from his lips with an added weight, telling the congregation what they had all come to hear. But instead of focusing on the meaning in his words, your eyes trailed down his arm, landing on his long fingers, which wrapped around the Bible delicately. All you could catch was the pause in his tone at the end of his sentences that indicated the end of a reading, the start of a new one. Each gesture, however subtle, acted as an instruction on how to behave—a reminder to pay attention - like that would happen. 

"Are you ready?" Your father's soft question snapped you out of your daze, and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Then you remembered. 

Communion. Shit. You would have to get up and face the person you'd been eyeing and barely listening to the last hour. You took a deep breath. 

The communion line moves swiftly, which you feel is one of the few true blessings you've received in this hour. 

He would undoubtedly notice how your body tensed. And you weren't sure if it was because of his presence or your guilt for not attending church in almost three years. You kept your gaze on the floor. 

Your breath catches as your eyes meet, and you look away, but not before catching a glimpse of a slight smile on his face. It's captivating, and the lump in your throat vanishes. Trying not to feel like a love-struck teenager, you offered him a weak smile. 

You incline your body briefly before you hold your hands out to receive the Eucharist. Your eyes meet his as he holds up the small wafer, and your breath catches. 

"The body of Christ," he says with an enigmatic smile. 

That voice… you blink, and he presses the wafer into your hand. Through a miracle of muscle memory, you press it to your tongue and make the sign of the Cross. You walk quickly back to your pew, skipping the wine. You need to sit down for a moment.

When it was over, all you wanted to do was get away, back to the house where you could pretend to be expected or lie yourself into thinking that.

But your father had to introduce you to the new priest outside the church. 

His voice wraps around your skull. He looks at you and shakes your hand, thumb pressing into your palm; something undefinable passes between you with his touch. "I've heard a lot about you, Y/N." 

"She's visiting for a couple of weeks, taking a break from work." Your dad supplies the information, and you wish he hadn't. Mainly because you just couldn't bring yourself to tell him you had quit because -

You pull a forced smile, craning your neck further to look up at the stranger whose eyes were still pinning you under his gaze. There's a moment there, a hitch in the air, his head tilting a little as if listening for something you can't hear. Nothing prepares you for what follows. 

"What did you think of the sermon?" Father Sylus asks. 

It was not the first time someone asked your thoughts on what was discussed, but you still feel you'll say the wrong thing.  But something stupid comes out of your mouth instead. "Better than I've heard in a while." At least it was honest. 

"Y/N has never been an…enthusiastic attendee," your father adds. 

For a second, the gaze from the priest feels as though he may know the thoughts that made you avoid Mass in recent years as much as humanly possible. That look priests have, that vacant, penetrating gaze with eyes that seem to ask but also know exactly what you're hiding.

The moment is disrupted by your father when he claps your shoulder and slightly shoves you away, turning to Father Sylus. "Thank you, Father. Y/N and I have lunch plans." 

Of course, before anyone could respond, a parishioner called for the priests' attention, leaving you without another choice but to follow your father to the car. 

"See," he said after getting into the driver's seat. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

You rolled your eyes obviously, and pulled your knees together subtly. 

"What exactly do you think makes him better than Father Thomas?" you ask. "Just because I can't picture him tripping over the incense censer? Or he looks like someone who might buy a croissant for breakfast and then say three Hail Marys?"

"Y/N, stop." Your dad gave you a look as he adjusted his mirrors and shifted the gears. 

"Sorry," you murmured, rolling down the window so that you could distract yourself.

"Look, he's livened up the homilies a bit, and the parish likes that," your dad continued. "The youth group has been thriving for once; outside the church, he's involved in the community." 

You groaned as your father continued. 

"And more than that, he's down to earth! He plays piano, wears jeans, even sings a bit…" Your dad trails off. "He's… not very good, but still." 

You scoff. "Wearing jeans makes a priest 'down to earth'? I think my understanding of catholicism needs to be rethought." 

Your father sighed heavily as he turned the car into your neighborhood. "Despite what those anti-catholic websites tell you, priests aren't all stuck in the stone ages."

You sucked your lips into your mouth. When you opened it to speak again, the words were stuck in your throat, just like when you were young. And while it was physically impossible for you to admit that the priest, a holy messenger for God, had affected you - you already knew you couldn't stomach sitting through another service. 

You didn't want to consider what that would mean for your strained relationship with God. Not that the All-Powerful ever wanted to hear from you after your mother died. You exhaled softly, pinching the skin between your thumb and index finger. 

The rest of the ride was blessedly silent. 

Father Sylus immediately spotted her when he stepped behind the altar and looked at the parish. It was a small town; all the faces were familiar except hers. Every voice he heard in the confessional, he knew, except one.

Yes, it had to be her. This was the face that belonged to that sweet voice flitting through his mind since he heard it from the other side of that screen. Her voice was so lovely that it could have belonged to God's most beautiful angel. 

This particular angel on Earth was temptation incarnate. She was just as beautiful as her voice, with ample curves. It was like God made her specifically to tempt him. 

'Lord, lead me not into temptation.' He silently prayed as he began Mass.

This wasn't the first time he'd been tempted. His calling did not change that he was also a mortal man with desires like any other. Nothing in the past had tempted him as much as this woman. 

As he delivered his sermon, his eyes were drawn to her. More than once, he stumbled over his words during the sermon, but none of the attendees seemed to notice.

Later, after Mass, her father brought her over to introduce them. He shouldn't be this excited to speak face-to-face, but he did his best to keep his calm demeanor. 

Father Sylus had a pretty good idea of why she stopped attending Mass and might have even stopped believing. When he took over for Father Thomas, he'd heard plenty of tales about her mother. 

He'd also heard plenty from her father during confession and conversations. The man had come seeking his counsel on more than one occasion. Advice and comfort were something Father Sylus was always more than happy to offer. 

When her hand touched him, he felt an electric tingle. There was a moment when her hand lay in his, and their eyes met. He swallowed and offered another silent prayer, begging for strength to not stray from his path.

When another parishioner pulled him away, he felt a mixture of relief and the lingering desire that he would see her again… at Mass, of course.

Returning home in the Fall meant your old neighborhood would have its community festival. It was barely a town with any local attractions, but it was nothing to scoff at when the community came together for a tradition that had happened for years. 

That was why you had woken up at the ass crack of dawn to help a group of older women make homemade baked goods in preparation, unpack boxes of paper fans, and autumn imagery for the church booth. Despite her vices, your mother always got up early to help prepare. She always talked about how much cinnamon was used in the pumpkin bread, complaining about how whoever made it didn't do it right. 

Talia's kitchen was full of beautiful smells that morning, and there was plenty of coffee with cream and sugar to help you through. An old family friend, the former singer, was a wonderful lady, though she continued to look overwhelmed with each passing moment. You sensed that something other than the festival that afternoon had gotten her all worked up. 

"Y/N, can you get some boxes into the garage?" Talia asked, lifting a tin out of her oven. The sweet scent of honey and vanilla wafted through the kitchen. You nodded, cleaning your hands from the sticky dough you had kneaded, and headed straight to the side door. 

The sliding door of the garage was open, the late morning light filtering through the trees outside. Talia was never exactly known for her neatness, and you bit your bottom lip as you glanced around the cluttered space. 

Instead of a car, Talias nephew Rafayel sat in the center of the space, perched in front of an easel. On a small table nearby was a colorful vase filled with sunflowers. Your former classmate was only a grade younger than you, having moved away after graduating with aspirations of going to Europe to study art and become famous. Or so he had said. That must not have worked out too well for him, considering he was painting in his aunt's garage. 

"Hey," you sighed, "Talia sent me out to grab some boxes." 

The young man was deep in his process, his dusty purple hair falling into his face as he moved subtly to glance at you.  "Be my guest," Rafayel told you, flipping some hair out of his face with a jerk as he returned to his canvas. 

You nodded slowly and looked around some more, spotting some boxes on a shelf in the corner. As you moved toward them, you heard Rafayel speak again. 

"So….what have you been up to?" 

You arched an eyebrow and looked over your shoulder before turning fully to face him.

You remembered high school. Smoking pot and playing Magic The Gathering in this very garage, or going to sketch down by the lake. You weren't exactly the most famous person in high school, nor was he. And while Rafayel certainly had more friends than you then, you were inseparable when you did hang out together. 

Then you remembered he hadn't attempted to acknowledge you when you arrived that morning, and now he was interested in making small talk. This confused you, but time had passed, and you didn't want to pry. You hadn't contacted anyone when you first got back into town. 

"Nothing really," you replied, leaning against one of the garage's upright beans as you watched him dip his paintbrush in a rich royal purple color. 

"Ah, boring." His tone was cheeky as he seemed genuinely disinterested in your answer. Biting your bottom lip, you wondered how someone could show emotions except boredom, sadness, or anger when doing something creative. "Y/N returns and is stuck baking with the church ladies. What a sad fate!" 

"Because you're living the high life!" You shot back with a chuckle, catching as his eyes seemed to glimmer with the laughter behind them. "Your aunt sure seems frazzled." 

Rafayel shook his head. "Things always go wrong with the festival. Neighbors fight over parking, usually led by Talia and her arch-nemesis, Nancy. Money becomes a hot topic, and Talia tries to prove that she didn't use the parish fund to cover the cost of the eggnog, which she always does. That's where I come in, her designated handler." 

"That's why you came home?" You asked. 

Rafayel said nothing, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looked back at his painting. 

You took that as a sign he didn't want to talk about it, your attention focusing on the boxes as you wondered who in their right mind was picking a fight over eggnog. You quickly snatched two boxes from the bottom shelf, balancing them in your arms as you managed to maneuver back to the door that led into the house.

 "We should hang out sometime." You heard Rafayel call out gently as you reached the doorway. You would have stayed and talked longer with him, but you needed to return to the kitchen where the women were waiting. 

You nodded toward him as you went to push the door open with your back. "You going to the festival?" 

Rafayel cocked a small half-grin, "Fat chance. I'll see you around." 

"Sure." 

How many people show up at the town's Fall Festival always amazes you. Though, in a way, you felt at home within the hustle and bustle, pretending like you were part of the town again was…nice. The leaves lush shades of red and amber, a gentle breeze during the day that felt nice on your back. 

Pleasant and normal. Just like you remembered it being. 

You followed your dad throughout the festival, waiting for him to conclude his rounds of handshakes and smiles. He was always an involved member of the town because he owned the hardware store - but he seemed more important than you remembered. You never did cease to wonder where he found the time to multitask. Though, that kind of dedication was perfect. It meant he would be busy most days and leave you alone to try to return to normal. Maybe revisiting some childhood memories of carefree abandon while having your fill of pastries. 

Maybe it would let you stop thinking about that priest you knew was somewhere around here…

You're doing it again , you told yourself with a tiny grin. 

Down the main street, vendors sold locally grown produce, handmade jewelry, baked goods, and apple cider. In the park, people gathered to listen to live music. 

But even as you walked alongside your father, your mind was drawn back to those red eyes. The curve of his jaw could drive a woman crazy just by imagining the scratch of any five o'clock shadow.

"Kid, look who it is!" Your dad pulled on your arm, and you turned to see who he had stopped in front of—his ashy blonde, blue-eyed employee Xavier, who smiled at you and gave a small wave. Another classmate from school, and the one you…well, regretted the most. The little puppy-dog crush you carried around for him never manifested into anything. 

"If it isn't Y/N." Xavier chuckled under his breath and gave you a tiny smile. "And to think you've been gone for so long…" 

"Well, I'm here for a bit." You smiled back, wondering how much weight you had on those words. You had missed the feeling of belonging somewhere, having a routine that didn't involve sneaking around. If staying, being home, was an option for a bit, you were happy to take it. "How are things with you?" 

Your dad touched your shoulder and interrupted, "I'm going to talk to Father Sylus. I'll catch up with you later."

With that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone with Xavier, wondering how many other kids from the neighborhood were within a few feet of you. You turned, trying to figure out where you should go next. 

"Uh, my dad has a display across the road," Xavier told you, nodding in the direction. "They're almost selling out, so that's good." 

"Your dad still owns the bookstore?" You asked, remembering the late nights spent sitting in the beanbag chair in the back, reading while Xavier fell asleep to the sound of jazz music from the radio. 

"Yeah," He laughed, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. "He's doing well, but it's so hot in there sometimes. Wanna come say hi?" 

"Sure." You gesture in the direction, "After you." 

Walking beside him, the silence was awkward, even if Xavier wasn't exactly known for his thrilling conversations. He'd always been super friendly to you. But, despite spending hours a day reading or studying together, or drinking coffee and talking about the other kids in school - that's all it ever was, just friendly. 

The booth in front of the bookstore was decorated with windchimes hanging down. Some scenes from books were depicted, and others were made of seashells and crystals. In the center was a beautifully hand-carved bench, and Xavier's father stood behind a table. The gray-haired man glanced up and brightened at the sight of his son before his eyes landed on you. "Oh, is this Y/N, Xavier? Well, my goodness." 

It struck you then just how many people knew you. Seeing so many familiar faces since you arrived left you a little dizzy and exhausted, especially when you learned new things that had happened when you were gone—small-town problems, as your mother had liked to call them. Even before her death, your mom thought the neighborhood was way too nosey—able to figure everything out by the end of the day. 

As you spoke to Xaviers' dad, you considered what your mom would have done if she felt the same about faith as everyone else in town. If she had bothered talking to Father Thomas instead of just listening to his sermons, she might have felt comforted—had a guide while she tried to find a way to endure. 

While Xavier was busy organizing some of the books on display, you picked up a few of the tiny carvings on the table to inspect. They seemed delicate. "Did you make these, Xavier? They're beautiful." 

"Just something I started doing." He responded offhandedly and ducked his head so you wouldn't see him blush. He seemed a bit too old for that, but then again, so were you.

You turned the start-shaped carving over in your hand, admiring the wood's little details. " It looks like hard work," you said. 

"It takes a lot of focus." Xavier nodded as she spoke, looking down at the carving in your hand. "But it's also pretty relaxing when I'm not busy at the store. Your dad doesn't seem to mind when I do it - says my mind tends to wander." 

"If they're beautiful, I don't see why you would be ashamed." You murmured with a smile. 

"Uh, y-yeah." Xavier stammered and nodded in agreement before shrugging his shoulders. "You keep that one…a welcome home present." 

Taken aback by his gesture, you looked down at the small token. "Thanks," you stated, tucking it into your bag. You wondered if spending some more time with Xavier could be a good decision for a while. Something familiar but safe. Something completely different from…

After saying goodbye to Xavier and his dad, you wandered back into the street, looking around for any sign of your father and knowing that you appreciated the time to walk around like it was something you had been craving. A chill started to set in as the late afternoon began, your arms wrapping around yourself as a breeze floated through. You stopped in front of a display a bit away from the commotion, a few tables lined with carved pumpkins that were part of a contest, each one differing from the next. 

As you debated which carving was your favorite, you felt your phone buzzing inside your pocket. Thinking your dad was looking for you, you pulled it out to look down at the screen and wish you had never bothered. 

Zayne. 

"Jesus fucking Christ." You grumbled, rejecting the call after a moment of panic just in time to hear the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind you. 

Turning, your gaze met Father Sylus, and any prayers that could have crossed your lips wouldn't have done any good. You definitely were going to hell if you hadn't already reached it.  

Father Sylus, clad in blue jeans and a gray sweater, gave a slightly sideways smile. Your eyes went to the clerical collar that encircled his neck. So…priests did wear things other than starched button-ups. 

"Oh shit, sorry, Father." You quickly apologized for your cursing and noted how his eyes narrowed slightly, even if the smile on his face didn't fade. You shoved your phone in your back pocket. 

"Don't apologize. Sometimes, God gives us reasons to be a little blasphemous. How are you?"

As you processed his question, you felt the confusion set in, looking up at the tall man who now stepped up beside you. His gentle gaze was stunning, but the feeling settling in your gut was the complete opposite of peaceful. 

"Oh, I'm well." Laughing nervously at your lie, you turned back to the array of pumpkins before you, pretending to study the intricate details of the one closest to you. 

Oh fuck, oh fuck, what the fuck, was all that filled your brain. You couldn't wrap your head around why Father Sylus wasn't busy mingling with the rest of his flock. Glancing over at him, you saw he was facing the display, though you couldn't tell if he was seriously contemplating a pumpkin. 

To get his attention, you straightened your spine and settled on a casual tone. "I always forget they do this contest every year. Seems a bit too festive, don't you think?"

He looked over at you, the curve of his smile captivating even though his brows had now furrowed. "You don't think a pumpkin deserves the chance to shine?"

"You know what I mean." You could feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you hoped you were the only one who could tell. Who asks that kind of thing, anyway? "You know. It's…too whimsical." 

"It's a tradition from Samhain," He said, reaching his hand out, long fingertips tracing on a particularly uneven carving with a toothy grin. "A round shape used to scare away ghouls, ward off evil."

"You're certainly more cultured than I, Father." You found yourself saying. "All I know is Jack Skellington. Maybe I should start planning ahead for Halloween." 

Father Sylus chuckled, the sound having a melodic undercurrent that sent goosebumps all over your flesh. He stepped away from the display and looked back towards the street. It took you a moment to realize it was an invitation to walk beside him. 

"Halloween is a pagan festival," He continued as he stepped off the curb. "Not dissimilar to this. Something that's practiced in our contemporary culture, but one that's steeped in historic ritual." 

"I see." Your answer, of course, implied that there was much you didn't know, so you followed up with, "So you don't think it's all part of some horrible Satanic holiday?" There was a bit of jest in your tone, and he shrugged at your statement as he shoved his hands in his front pockets. 

"It's one of my favorites." He admitted. 

You were sure you couldn't hide the shock that flashed across your face. You thought he wouldn't notice as he seemed more focused on something else as he walked. But when he looked over at you again, he must have caught on because he smiled wider - pearly whites shining through his smugness. 

"The Catholic Church is ancient and has always walked a delicate path of coexisting with other ideas of justice and morals." He explained, tilting his head politely towards a church woman leaving one of the booths. "But mostly for…the sake of conversion."

"So you would accept someone with a history of celebrating, um, Jack o' Lanterns, then?" You asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Or would you see me as a blasphemous sinner?"

Father Sylus answered immediately with a curt, "No." His smile remained as he continued, "All paths lead to God."

"Pretty sure there are some scriptures that would directly contradict that." 

"Well," He continued, pulling his face a bit more stoic. "When the Pope asks for my input, I'll send a memo." 

Laughing, you shook your head and wondered what possessed him to continue to talk with you. What an odd reaction. What if he was testing a boundary? Maybe you overstepped; maybe you should have just walked away. 

But those eyes, red and flaming, could calm waves, halt a storm - shatter a heart into oblivion.

Do I really need that again? You wondered. 

"And what about you, Y/N? One pumpkin spice latte is hardly the sign of a Satanic worshiper." 

Snorting another laugh, you shrugged, hoping your awkwardness wasn't too noticeable. "Eh, I always thought holidays were too constricting, honestly. Mom was big into Halloween, though. We had buckets full of candy for the kids but secretly pulled pranks all night." 

The regret came almost as fast as the memories came flooding back. After your mom's death, you forced yourself to stop thinking about her almost entirely. For some reason, the last Halloween you spent together was the most prominent. Her excitement had rubbed off on you, and she hadn't even started drinking yet that night. 

She wasn't the drunk on the street corner with no shoes. She wasn't just a sick, unhappy, or broken person. Your mother was just your mother - somehow always carefree and making memories for her child. Full of warmth, love, and God. A God-fearing woman who set up tripwires that dropped rubber bugs and rats all over trick-or-treaters. But even still, she pitied each of the neighborhood kids she scared so bad they nearly peed themselves.

Father Sylus stayed quiet as you stopped behind the crowd surrounding the musicians' stage. His contemplation wasn't far behind yours when he said, "Not all deaths are tragic, but those memories haunt nonetheless." 

"It's easier to resent and forget them." You swallowed the stone in your throat and clenched the fists you had shoved into your cardigan pockets. "How did you -" 

"Your father told me." He answered quietly. "He loves you very much, especially after losing your mother." 

Of course. You wanted to roll your eyes and didn't attempt to speak again. You simply nodded and directed your attention to the ground. You breathed a heavy sigh, unable to keep it in. 

"Sometimes I can't believe she's gone." You found yourself admitting softly. 

"You're angry." The observation from the man cut you like a knife; you could almost feel it twist in your gut. Mainly because he was right, you were angry. Angry at your mother for her vices, her addiction. Angry she had died and left you with a pent-up anger because nothing would ever be the same. And in many of the same ways, you were like her. 

"Does that make me a horrible daughter?" Your laugh was bitter. "I straight up left my dad and went to school across the country." 

"Did he ever give any indication that it bothered him?" 

"No, he never did," You whispered, ducking your head again. "But, neither did I." 

There was a pregnant pause before Father Sylus finally turned to face you, folding his arms over his chest. "So you left because it was better for you. Everyone makes decisions and makes sacrifices based on what they need. What they think is right for them, don't you think?" 

Your eyes met his as you lifted your head, but before you could speak, he continued. "Even if, or maybe especially - if those around them struggle. Parents understand that necessity and try their hardest to understand what is best."

"Thanks," You didn't even try to hide your emotion in your voice, "That means a lot." 

"Of course." 

I am currently taking donations due to the aftermath of hurricane Milton on my Kofi. Please see this post for more info.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Lol.

This will be short. I’ll go on a little tangent but I’ll tie this back to Jungkook and BTS at the end.

You know, I was mostly ambivalent about the feud between HYBE and Min Heejin until I heard her call Bang Sihyuk and his sycophants “bastards” for ‘overpaying for garbage and forcing everyone to eat it because they think the price makes the music good.’ - I’m paraphrasing a bit because her language was more crude. That made me sit up a bit, because her sentiments mirrored my thoughts about the direction Bang Sihyuk has been taking the company in for some time now.

Another random connection is that, to me at least, it seems clear BigHit is still trying to make the HYBE America investment worth it, given:

1. The unnecessarily long credit lists filled with Scooter-linked writers that appear to have become a fixture of most HYBE releases. Bang PD is clearly taking advantage of Scooter’s connections although it’s yet to yield any significant improvement in music quality, and in terms of chart performance the results are mixed at best;

2. The fact that in addition to HYBE paying US$1.05 Billion in cash for Scooter’s company, essentially overpaying for Ithaca Holdings by consensus estimates (a deal Min Heejin also openly criticized as being hare-brained), HYBE America still generated hundreds of millions of dollars in losses as of the last fiscal year, two years after the acquisition was finalized.

But this is old news, we all knew that.

The thing about Min Heejin’s comments that concerned me is that, despite what is now clearly an underperforming investment both in terms of Scooter Braun himself and the man at HYBE that arranged the deal in the first place, Lee Jae-sang, rather than work to correct course and minimize losses, Bang Sihyuk appears to be doubling down on the deal by rewarding these two men in particular with more music and business opportunities within HYBE, even if the music quality suffers as a result, even if HYBE continues overpaying for shit, and even if the artists/idols are negatively impacted in the process. And according to Min Heejin, one big reason Bang Sihyuk allows it is because those men are adept at greasing his arse and eating it out.

Basically, it’s become an expensive joke. But he’s brute forcing the deal to work because so long as BTS is involved and so ARMYs are involved, it’s a joke that Bang PD is guaranteed to take laughing all the way to the bank.

This is where I say I realized shortly after Jungkook’s fan song for Festa was announced, that I wasn’t excited to hear it. I’m saying this only because now that the song is out, it’s confirmed everything I expected. And also because that apathetic feeling was so at odds with how I’ve been feeling about Jungkook as a person for the last year. If it’s not been clear from my reblogs and gush posts, I’ve been spending the better part of this hiatus loving Jungkook extremely. Jungkook is an empathetic songwriter, an emotive vocalist, a talented producer.

But nothing about Never Let Go is exciting. Who wants to listen to a fan song written by people who’ve never had fans? And on top of that, Jungkook is making less money from that song than any fan song he’s written before. Meaning, the song is mediocre, it feels blatantly insincere in ways only a crowdsourced fan song can be, and Jungkook has to split his revenue from the song with about 10 white people. Just look at this.

I’m actually laughing typing this out, but this turn of events is at least a little tragic.

Golden worked as a concept album because it was a collection of songs Jungkook felt represented his taste, he could take on the challenge of putting out a full English album with some help from the writers, and he showcased new vocal techniques and styles that only showed an evolution from his prior work in BTS. The songs themselves were just okay, good decent pop, but as a collection it worked.

Everything about Never Let Go feels almost audaciously soulless. Not quite a slap on the face but it’s like someone coming all up in your face with a bad case of halitosis and their nose barely touching yours, daring you to do something about it.

I have no issue with HYBE working with Scooter-linked writers or producers if it means something actually good comes of it. But it seems HYBE seems to believe their work is better simply because they slap on as many foreign names in the credits as they can fit. It betrays a worrying mentality about the head honchos in the company. Looking at the peak quality in FACE by Jimin, or in Right Place, Wrong Person by RM, which included acclaimed Korean, other Asian, and Black talent supposedly hand-picked by Jimin and Joon themselves, it’s clear HYBE has access to remarkable home-grown and foreign talent that could improve the work of the members. But what I’m seeing with too much frequency is HYBE picking off the bottom of the barrel in the unending list of Scooter’s contractors and otherwise choosing to do the bare minimum.

And that’s how we end up with a Festa fan song with a topline that sounds like an AI-generated jingle written by a soccer team of hired help.

Or idk, maybe I’m being just a bit too full of it. Maybe I’ve been brainwashed by the witch Min Heejin, maybe this was just one more song Jungkook worked on with his Golden team as he had no time to write a proper fan song, nothing more. And maybe as a silver lining, there are no glaring grammatical errors though I found the ones in My You very charming, and honestly part of the appeal. To hear the way Jungkook sees the fans who have been with him till now, even if in English it didn’t quite make sense.

I said this would be short but I’ve rambled, as usual. Sorry for that. When I started out writing this post, I did intend to keep it short.

To end things on a somewhat lighter note, for me the only thing I’m excited about this Festa, is SeokJin coming back. I’ll be working on a deal during the fanmeet so I didn’t bother participating in the raffle, but I’m happy for the ARMYs who get the opportunity to hug Jin, and for Jin who gets to spend time with his fans after so long. With him returning, things are starting to feel more right, even though there are worrying signs in high places. We’ve got about 1 year left to endure most of the members enlisted and then, the crew will be rounded up again.

Now more than ever, I find myself looking forward to that.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for bitching about fics I dislike on my blog?

as a foreword, this is kind of a non-issue and no one's ever told me to stop, but I'm curious what other people think of fandom etiquette.

the fandom: a fairly small one. 2.4k fics on ao3 small. I recognize most people posting in its tumblr tag small. if I tell you the name of the source you'd almost definitely be able to find me small.

the source: pornographic, which means everyone involved is or should be an adult. it's BL with a switch MC, but the fandom overwhelmingly prefers bottom MC/top LIs (love interests), to the point where I've had people be astonishingly rude to me because my favorite character is a bottom LI and some of my friends have been outright harassed for the same. I used to not care about sex positions in the slightest, but now when I see bottom MC fanworks I can't help but remember how poorly I was treated.

the fics: wildly and inexplicably popular, even though they are, frankly, poorly written. it's eternal bottom MC turned up to 11, complete with copious amounts of OOCness in order to turn every ship into the worst ye olde yaoi gender roles dynamic you can imagine. it's things like MC, canonically a 23yo plank of a dudeguy, being written as a big titted milf in his 40s (which is made more confusing by the fact that one of the LIs is already a big titted milf). it's also things like the MC being written as disliking sex and having to be coerced into it when one of the most charming things about him is that he's a hilarious sex pest, or writing the LIs sexually harassing the MC when they really would never do that. I've likened it to replacing the characters with OCs that share the same name and my friends have agreed with me. I'm honestly convinced that the author and his readers don't actually like any of the characters if they feel the need to change everyone so thoroughly.

why I might be an asshole: it's assholish to hate on free fanworks, and I've bitched about these fics on my public tumblr blog. the fandom is small enough that there's a non-zero chance of it getting back to the author and a reasonable chance that fans of the fics have seen my bitching. I'm probably projecting the hostility I've received onto someone who's done absolutely nothing to me, and I am absolutely just straight up jealous that their fics get better stats than mine. I may also be being an asshole to myself, because being critical of other people's fics has made my hypercritical of my own.

why I don't think I'm an asshole: I think everyone has the right to be bad at things, but I also think everyone has the right to be a little hater. I don't put the fandom tag on these posts; they stay on my blog and my blog alone, and if later on I feel like I was unfairly vitriolic I'll delete the posts. I only post on tumblr because I'm certain the author in question only uses twitter, which dramatically lowers the odds of him stumbling across my posts. the fics are so popular that it's definitely possible that their fans would see my posts, but I think it's unlikely that they'd bother looking at my blog because 99% of my posts are about one of the bottom LIs. I have never and would never leave comments on the fics themselves, and I generally try to keep the bitchy posts to a minimum; it's far from a constant thing.

tl;dr - I publicly bitch about fics that (in my opinion) are poorly written and extremely OOC, under the assumption that it's unlikely the author would ever see it. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[what-even-is-thiss]

I think New Vegas and the original fallout team in general have some major and consistent issues with their writing that a lot of people just like skip over. And me pointing that out isn’t me saying the games are bad. Media is a product of the time it’s made in. They write like typical head in the sand don’t know when they’re being offensive 90s era tv writers a lot of the time.

But also this is one of those media franchises where if you criticize certain things about it even a little bit you need to put in five million caveats so the fanboys don’t come crawling out of your walls.

You can see almost everyone online who criticizes Fallout, Fallout 2, and Fallout New Vegas attempting to put up a shield preemptively because the people who prefer those games ooohhhhh baby baby you can feel their fingers reaching for the comment section before you’ve finished your sentence.

But I can’t shut up about the things I notice about the media I consume. I’m a queer writer with an English degree. I’ve been trained to notice things and I think there’s a lot of things out there worth discussing and critiquing even when it comes to media that most people agree is generally good.

Your favorite work of art is not immune to perpetuating biases whether on purpose or by accident. New Vegas for example has a serious noble savage problem. All of these games have issues when it comes to their “low intelligence” dialogue options. Yes they can be funny but the biases within them are also worth looking at. Why do you find them to be funny? Is this game actually truly doing a good job of humanizing the enemy? Is this game accidentally advocating for eugenics? Is this game advocating for torture? What assumptions are the writers making here?

Pretty much everything out there that you’ll ever read, watch, or play has some form of issue with it. Likely my own work has issues in it that I don’t see.

Even if something is good, even if something is timeless, revolutionary, something you’re proud of, in love with, it’s still worth looking at closely. Sometimes you don’t realize when you’re being manipulated. Sometimes you don’t realize what assumptions you just accept as fact.

Critique doesn’t mean condemnation. It’s a part of a healthy media diet. It’s fine to just enjoy things but someone digging deep into the problems with the things you enjoy doesn’t mean that you need to defend those problems or that you’re being attacked. You have every right to turn off your brain when consuming art. But just because that’s how you choose to go about it doesn’t mean it’s not that deep.

[utilitycaster]

In thinking about the new information we've recently learned about the gods of Exandria, I started thinking about epic fantasy novels. The thing is, Exandria's deity lore is not actually terribly unique. This isn't a bad thing! But the idea of an idyllic age when gods were not just powerful but present and united; the fall of one (or many) gods and an ensuing devastation this causes; and the gods subsequently withdrawing or diminishing is a very, very common one in fantasy (and, to be totally honest, world religion). Similarly, the idea of a much more advanced age that has since passed into distant memory is also an extremely common trope. I think it's less common to have both of these tropes working in tandem though certainly not unheard of (hello, Wheel of Time), and the nature of the storytelling method in effect here means that the fallen advanced civilization is more thoroughly developed in the worldbuilding than it is in many other stories, but none of this is a wildly new concept.

I want to talk about genre, medium, and actual play, which is sort of both and sort of neither. I think people talking about actual play tend to mash all three of these things together when they really shouldn't.

(this is a long one so it's under a cut to not wreck your dash)

The genre of Critical Role's main campaigns is heroic fantasy, which I know I've covered in the past, and of epic scale. This is honestly pretty typical of D&D. NADDPod (especially Bahumia) and TAZ Balance and Graduation are also arguably within this same broad genre, just more comedic and looser with aspects of the worldbuilding.

Despite the fact that Brennan is very well-versed in fantasy novels, D20's main deal is that it's not classic heroic fantasy. I think this is actually a bigger factor in why people prefer CR to D20 than many people think. The shorter length is definitely another factor (though that too feels almost related - the critically acclaimed indie comic run to Critical Role's series of doorstopper novels) but Dimension 20, while it comments on classic heroic fantasy with Fantasy High and Escape from the Bloodkeep, only ever dips into anything actually approaching that genre with the Game of Thrones-inspired low fantasy seasons and, funnily enough, with the Dungeons and Drag Queens miniseries. Otherwise, it's telling school stories, urban fantasy, space operas, heists, murder mysteries, comedies of manners, and action-adventure. Similarly, TAZ Steeplechase and Amnesty very much aren't of this genre. Critical Role meanwhile touches on supernatural horror with Candela Obscura.

Actual Play is a means of telling a story, and typically the system at least puts in place the general expectations of what can be done within the improv. Some systems (such as Candela Obscura or Blades in the Dark) set a particular genre; others, like D&D, favor one but permit a good degree of flexibility. Actual Play is not really the same as genre, as discussed above; D20 genre hops quite readily, as does The Adventure Zone, even while using the same TTRPG systems.

Finally, there's medium. This one is easy. Critical Role and D20 are filmed shows (though are available as podcasts); so is, to give a non-Actual Play example, The Bear. NADDPod and TAZ are podcasts. So are (for example) The Silt Verses and Midst.

The reason I've outlined all of the above is to say that I think people tend to assume simply being actual play is somehow closer than sharing genre. This is also to an extent true for longform fiction podcasts (though it is less true for TV and books). I think this has led to an influx of fans of actual play (and, tbh, podcasts) who aren't familiar with the genres within which actual play shows are working.

I do not say this to gatekeep (though honestly, gatekeeping is both not inherently bad and also, not possible in this context). It's more of an exploration of what I think may be a reason why, particularly in the Critical Role fandom, it feels some of the Campaign 3 opinions feel somewhat half-baked.

You can be a fan of heroic fantasy and enjoy actual play but not actually be terribly into actual play that isn't heroic fantasy. I think some people who loved Critical Role Campaign 1 but nothing after that and no other actual play fit into that category. I think Campaign 1's fandom was, indeed, heavily skewed towards fans of fantasy and fans of D&D (as a venue to roleplay one's own fantasy story and as a game itself heavily shaped by heroic fantasy fiction) more so than anything else. If you like, say, The Kingkiller Chronicles or the Stormlight Archives or the Wheel of Time or Lord of the Rings? You might like Critical Role.

By 2018, and definitely by 2019-2020, the landscape had changed, and the attitude was much more one of "if you like this actual play, you'll like this one" which is actually...nowhere near as true, in my mind, as recommendations based on genre. I think this is also when people started folding in "longform speculative fiction podcasts in general" which to be honest was already an issue with the medium of longform fiction podcasts. Wolf 359, The Silt Verses, Midst, The Penumbra Podcast, and any season of NADDPod are all longform, plot-based speculative fiction podcasts with queer representation, but that doesn't actually mean someone who likes one will like another. (Also? Queer rep? Gets treated like podcasts or actual play, to be honest. It's extremely possible to love only one of The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, Stars in My Pocket Like Grains of Sand, The Woods All Black, and The Priory of the Orange Tree despite all of these being novels with queer relationships, yet a lot of the time Queer Rep is treated as a genre, an "if you like this, you'll like that!")

I think it is true that there are people who enjoy actual play on a fairly general level (myself included), and with podcasts especially I think there are people who enjoy fiction delivered in this manner and people who have some difficulty with it. But I think there's a tendency to push people who like one actual play towards other actual play when they may be more interested in longform audio fiction, scripted or not; or might be inclined towards a particular genre. To go back to the examples I've given, someone who likes Candela Obscura might find The Silt Verses and The Woods All Black more appealing than, for example, Fantasy High, despite that also being filmed actual play, because the latter two are also supernatural horror with exploration of class.

Because actual play, in its weird not a medium, not a genre, but kind of both space is, well, in between spaces, it gets treated as the most specific element of works of fiction when that's not always true. The consequences, therefore, end up being twofold. You get people who come to AP series because they liked another one that doesn't actually have a ton in common, and it ends up hit or miss (this is one of my theories why the D20 fandom can be extremely weird about Critical Role; because it was pushed on them when it's really not what they're into, which is neither their nor CR's fault); and you get people coming to specific actual plays and enjoying them without much familiarity with their genres, which I think is behind some of the weirder C3 takes since C3 is arguably the first campaign that truly began after Actual Play began to be treated as a genre.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Published May 13, 2024

Governments and certain key opinion formers aren’t being open and honest about the risks associated with COVID-19 and their actions will have long-term consequences for public health and trust in science.

One of the criticisms often leveled at members of the Covid-cautious community is that they believe ‘everything is Covid.’ Critics say there is an element of alarmism or neurosis in the concerns this community has about COVID-19 because no pathogen could cause all the harms being laid at its door.

Unfortunately, the newest widely circulating pathogen in the human population uses a broadly expressed ACE2 receptor to infect cells1, meaning it can damage almost any part of the body2. Prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, few people believed coronaviruses could linger in the body, but members of the John Snow Project outlined their concerns in 2021 because there was extensive evidence going back decades to suggest coronaviruses could persist3,4. These concerns have since been shown to be justified, with numerous studies now demonstrating prolonged viral persistence and immune activation5-9.

The combination of a widely expressed receptor and persistent infection means the acute and long-term effects of SARS-CoV-2, the virus which causes COVID-19, can be unpredictable10.

SARS-CoV-2 has also been shown to harm the immune system in various ways11-14, many of which are common to other pathogens. This harm seems to have increased susceptibility to other pathogens such as dengue15 and strep A16,17.

We’ve previously written about government efforts to return to pre-2020 norms and how official messaging that we must all assess our own level of risk has been interpreted by most people to mean that it is safe to engage with the world in the same way one would have done in 2019 and that there will be no additional risk in doing so18.

Most people have resumed pre-pandemic behaviours, but there has been an increase in general ill-health, which can be demonstrated in rising levels of long-term illness19, disability20,21, GP appointments22, chronic absence among school pupils23-27, rising absence among teachers28 and worker shortages in a wide range of industries29. Many commentators theorize about the reasons for these phenomena, blaming a mysterious malaise among workers, indulgent or irresponsible parents, or post-lockdown laziness.

Aiding this apparent mystery is the rather bizarre way in which official figures are reported. A prominent Covid-cautious commentator pointed this out in a thread on X in relation to the UK Office of National Statistics figures on Long Covid30. The ONS analysis states, “The majority of people self-reporting long COVID experienced symptoms over two years previously,” but the way the data is presented skews the risk towards historic Covid-19 cases by using uneven time intervals, a practice which is in breach of UK government policy on how to present time series data31. However, when the data is presented as close to correctly as the raw data allows, the risk of developing Long Covid from a COVID-19 infection seems to remain relatively constant.

Another criticism leveled at the Covid-cautious community is that members are overstating the risk of Long Covid. High quality studies from all over the world point to the very real and significant risk of Long Covid32-34, and there is now evidence to suggest the risk of Long Covid rises with each subsequent infection35.

If anything, Long Covid prevalence is likely to be understated because of the dearth of public health information from official sources. There are still some people who are surprised they can be reinfected by SARS-CoV-2. There are others who know about the risk of reinfection but who falsely believe each subsequent infection will be milder. There are yet more who do not know each infection can carry a risk of long-term illness.

When we get into specifics, how many people know COVID-19 infection can cause headaches and migraines weeks or months later36,37? Or that it can cause fainting38,39? Nausea40? Heart attacks41,42? Cardiac complications in adults and children43,44? Embolisms45? ADHD-like symptoms46,47? Neurological issues48,49? How many people are suffering the long-term sequelae of COVID-19 infection but not drawing the causal link and instead ascribing their new conditions to bad luck or aging?

We’ve previously written about governments creating the space for antivaxx messaging to thrive by not correctly reporting the risks of COVID-19 infection29, but there are greater threats. Every time a Covid-minimizer says, “There’s nothing to worry about, look at everybody else out there living their lives, just resume your old ways,” they are undermining faith in public health measures because their reassurance is based not on the scientific evidence but on instinct, hope and, possibly, a vested interest in maintaining the status quo because they staked their professional credibility on infections being protective. Science and public health progress when we follow the evidence, not when we hold hunches and opinions in higher esteem than evidence.

The huge rise in dengue50, coupled with the evidence that dengue virus uses SARS-CoV-2 antibodies to enhance infection15 and the correlation of COVID-19 cases to dengue cases51 suggests there is an interplay between the pathogens that hasn’t been fully understood. Whooping cough is surging in the UK, with cases up 3,800% on previous years52-55, and adults who have been previously vaccinated or infected are now falling seriously ill. Similar surges have been seen in other countries, and while those who like to blame anything-but-Covid point the finger at lockdowns, which ended more than three years ago in most countries, sensible people would like to understand the interplay between COVID-19 infection and susceptibility to other pathogens.

It would only make sense to pursue ignorance if there was nothing that could be done about COVID-19, but we know that clean air policies can reduce the risk of all infections56, be they bacterial, viral or fungal. The “just get on with it” messaging of those who want people to forget about COVID-19 is a celebration of the sort of ignorance that has slowed and stalled human progress throughout history.

If there is a business case for investment in engineering and architecture that will improve human health, we need to properly understand the harms caused by COVID-19. Sweeping it under the rug, shouting down those with legitimate concerns, pretending the virus doesn’t exist, massaging data to make it appear things are safe, are all counter to this understanding.

It seems those with means have already decided their health will benefit from clean air57, and advanced ventilation and filtration systems are the latest must-have addition to high-end properties58, which suggests there is also an issue of equity involved in understanding COVID-19. The advancement of human knowledge has always empowered the general population, which is why it has often been resisted by those in power. Keep that in mind the next time someone says, “Stop worrying. Just get on with it.” They want your ignorance and incur no cost if you are harmed by being repeatedly infected by COVID-19 or any other pathogen that might be surging in its wake.

For information on how you can protect yourself from COVID-19 infection, please click here.