#and I've made it y'alls problem

[springfallendeer]

Nova’s Hands

@juicyyyboxxx @feralmoonlight @xnanosilverx @pulsarsatellite

Y’all like hands? Y’all like animatronic hands? Y’all like them doing things??? That make you FEEL things? Bitch. Get y’alls supper.

A NSFW fic featuring the boy. My favorite Eclipse. I had to ruin him.

Came out to a little over 2,500 words. So its a bit of a read.

Hands. 

There was something oddly fascinating about them. At least when it applied to a very specific animatronic. A very specific group of animatronics, more specifically. Sun. Moon. Eclipse. Nova. Other variants of that sort. 

Anything that followed the Daycare Attendant body plan had very intentionally been designed with anatomically correct hands. 

Four fingers and a thumb. Four fingers and a thumb which could bend about in ways that perfectly mirrored the movements of a human hand. 

Yet they had been made so much greater than a human hand could ever be. 

Larger. 

Stronger. 

Some had claws. Some were smooth. 

All of them were able to be moved with a precision that no human could ever replicate. Their metal structure was uninhibited by the flaws in human flesh and tissues. Bending one finger did not result in the awkward shifting of other fingers. There were no tendons or muscles there to contract and squeeze. 

You had spent a regrettable amount of time studying every possible difference between their hands and your own. To the point that the fascination had bled over into other aspects of your thoughts. 

No longer just simple observations, but a fixation. 

A greater curiosity that could not be simplified just by looking. 

Somehow, Nova had noticed. 

You don’t know when. 

You don’t know how. 

But he had noticed your bizarre obsession with his hands. And he was more than willing to help you satisfy some less innocent aspects of your curiosity. 

Because he had curiosities of his own. 

Curiosities that even you were aware of.

His body was larger than yours. His body was stronger than yours. His body was more complex than yours. 

That weakness of yours fascinates him. 

The softness of the flesh has become a fixation. 

He has already observed the little details in previous encounters. How the muscles on your arm will give and change shape to perfectly mold into his hand when he grabs you. How the skin on your fingers has just the slightest hint of give when it touches his metal body. The delicate look of your eyelids with each blink. 

While you were fixated on studying his hands, he occupied himself in studying you. 

In doing so, his observations bled into curiosities of his own. Curiosities that could easily be satisfied if he would indulge your own interests.

You were more than willing to let him satisfy those curiosities. Just as he was willing to indulge those inappropriate thoughts of yours. 

The indulgence started innocently enough. 

His hands came to settle upon your face. Slowly. Carefully. He caressed your face. He felt the softness of your skin. 

His thumbs lightly pressed against your cheeks. He observed how your skin gave way. How your face squished ever so slightly under the pressure of his hold. 

All the while he remained blissfully unaware of how even this touch only further piqued your interest. That or he had one hell of a poker face. 

With his every touch, his claws ever so slightly grazed against your skin, giving you goosebumps. That only fascinated him more. How your skin could seemingly change texture with just a little encouragement.

He brought his fingers near your eyes. You closed them. You closed them and did your best not to flinch as his fingers touched your eyelids. 

He was gentle. 

He treated you with utmost care. 

It was the anticipation of his touch that made you jolt when it finally came. 

He giggled in response, amused by your reaction. 

When he moved his fingers away from your eyes, you opened them. You opened them and were greeted by the sight of his amused, almost starstruck expression. 

He was enjoying himself. 

Good. 

You were enjoying this just as much, if not more. 

His hands moved lower. 

His fingertips danced along the skin of your neck. His teasing triggered the impulse to swallow. 

Even that fascinated him. 

He rubbed your throat more, coaxing more movements out of your esophagus.

Then, to your surprise, he squeezed. Not hard. 

One hand tightened around your neck abruptly, coaxing a gasp out of you. He carefully constricted your airway, seemingly even able to feel the breath moving through your throat. 

He moved his other hand back to your face. Specifically to your lips. 

You trembled as his fingers began to trace your lower lip. He maintained his grip on your throat even as he slowly slipped two of his fingers past your lips. 

Cold metal met the heat of your tongue. He coaxed your mouth open by spreading his fingers. For some reason your trembling only grew more dramatic as he explored your mouth with his hand. 

He snuck a finger under your tongue to feel the difference in texture. Rough on top. Slick underneath. He hardly seemed to notice that you had started to drool.

His fingers crept in deeper. Deeper. Until you could feel those clawed digits delicately stroking the back of your throat, behind your tongue. 

How you managed to prevent yourself from gagging, you had no idea. 

He withdrew his fingers once he had finished exploring your mouth. At which point he stopped squeezing your throat. 

Your face flushed as he observed his damp fingers. Slick and sticky with your saliva. 

He chuckled this time. Not a giggle. A chuckle. 

You could see a particular glint in his eyes. If he had a functional mouth, he would have licked his lips seductively. Or at least that was the vibe that that expression gave you. 

He wasn’t done with you yet. Not by a long shot. 

Until now, he’s only been exploring you with two of his hands. He still had two more, and he was eager to put them to use.

All four of his hands began to sneak their way into your clothes. 

Two began to explore your upper body. Two began to explore your lower half. 

His fingers danced along the skin of your abdomen as he slightly lifted up your shirt. 

Two of his fingers were still damp from your mouth. He left a trail of sticky skin where those fingers touched you. 

If you were trembling before, then your body was absolutely rattling by this point. From the chill of the air hitting your damp patches of skin, and from the anticipation of what he intended to do. 

His fingers wrapped around your waist. He squeezed ever so slightly as he began to move his hands higher up. Higher, higher up. Up to your chest. 

His thumbs found the skin beneath your breasts. Any clothing was ignored, or flat out shoved out of the way in order to allow him to further explore the feel of your body.

“Soft~” Nova remarks, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. His tone was upbeat. He was pleased with the feel of your body. 

His hands moved inward. He found your breasts. You arched slightly into his touch as he began to caress them. He practically kneaded them against his palms. 

Squeezing. 

Rubbing. 

Lifting. 

Fondling. 

Eventually he pressed his thumbs against your nipples, after having taken notice of how stiff they had gotten in response to his touch. 

Apparently, touching alone was not good enough. He wanted to better see how your flesh interacted with his metal body. 

Thankfully he was careful with your clothes as he pulled from free of your body. You helped him, admittedly having gotten hot due to the stimulation.

Your skin only got hotter once you noticed the intensity of his stare. 

He resumed exploring your upper half again, repeating everything that he had done before, but in reverse. 

His thumbs rubbed against your nipples, seemingly fascinated by how stiff they had gotten. Or at least he was fascinated by how stiff they were in comparison to the rest of the surrounding skin. His claws lightly pressed into them, coaxing the faintest of whimpers out of you. 

It didn’t hurt. It just startled you. 

Startled and excited you. 

His expression changed briefly to one of concern, as he rightly worried that he had accidentally hurt you.

“I-I’m okay~ Keep going.” You respond, reassuring him that you were alright. More than alright, actually. Your body had taken to tingling wherever he touched you. 

His smile returned. 

His exploration moved lower. 

Having had himself a good, long look at your upper body, his curiosity had moved elsewhere. His other hands had been casually caressing the skin of your arse as he occupied himself with your chest. 

You cooperated as he slowly pushed your pants and underwear down. 

There was no hiding the effects of his touch now. 

He didn’t even try to avert his gaze. In fact, his stare only seemed to grow more intense as he studied your pelvis. He took notice of the sticky substance that seeped from between your legs, forming translucent strands that clung to your panties as they were pulled down.

Though the impulse to cover your shame was there, you did not do so. 

He continued to squeeze and fondle your arse as he moved his other hands to your pelvis. He seemed very, very curious about what was happening between your legs.

“Down~” Nova commands, his voice gentle but laced with excitement. 

He uses his hold on you to coax you down. But he doesn’t have you lay on the floor. He has you lay on him. On his legs. 

Your head comes to rest upon his knees. You now lay on top of him, with your legs held apart by both his body and his needlessly skillful hands. 

He runs his hands along the backs of your thighs with one set of hands while lightly gripping the fronts of your thighs with the other. 

You can’t help but try to hide your face. 

He discourages this with a growl. A low, persistent growl. 

You’re supposed to watch him. You’re supposed to enjoy his hands just as he enjoys your body. 

Those devious hands of his move higher, and lower. The two behind your legs moved down to your knees to lift them. He coaxes your legs further apart. Then he holds them open. 

His other hands move to your center. A poorly restrained moan escapes you as he begins to explore your womanhood. 

He curiously spreads your lower lips. Those devious fingers of his lightly squeeze and rub against your slick flesh. 

There’s no point in hiding your voice. Between his touching and his unblinking stare, your body has grown excited beyond denial. 

Thankfully, he never forgets the power of his body. Though he touches your most delicate area with strong, clawed fingers, he never hurts you. Anything but. 

He inevitably notices where all of the sticky juices are coming from. One of his hands then occupies itself by reaching into you. 

Just one finger to start. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slowly traces the entrance of your vagina with his finger.

Slowly, he slides it in. He slides it in deep. 

His hands are so big. His fingers are so long. 

You feel him curiously rub against your inner walls. You watch his wide, unblinking eyes as he indulges in his newest curiosities. 

He can reach all the way to your cervix. You can feel his finger hit that spot. 

You jolt, having felt his claw come dangerously close to doing something that it shouldn’t. 

He quickly withdraws his finger, his eyes shifting to study your face. He’s worried. Worried that he’s done wrong and hurt you.

You say nothing. You can’t bring yourself to use your voice. All that you can do is bite your lip and nod, silently encouraging him to continue. 

He hesitates for a moment. Only for a moment. 

Then he returns his attention to your womanhood. 

His finger has been left slick from your excitement. He studies the sticky substance for a moment, rubbing his fingers together and then spreading them apart. He observes the thin translucent strings that form. 

Then he penetrates you once more. Faster this time. 

One finger. 

All the way to the last knuckle. He withdraws. 

Two fingers. 

Slowly this time. He sneaks them in and wriggles them about, coaxing all manner of embarrassing noises from your lips. He reaches in deep, curiously touching your cervix again. 

Thankfully he recognizes that he shouldn’t try to push deeper than that. His fingers withdraw again. 

Three fingers. 

You whine faintly, feeling how his intrusion is stretching you out. He’s still being slow. He’s still touching and feeling and spreading his fingers. At this point he’s obviously testing to see how much of his hand your body can take.

Once more, he pulls his fingers out. 

Four fingers. 

You’re being stretched to the limits. Your breath escapes you as quivering moans. 

He gets all four in. Up to the knuckles. 

You almost sigh in relief, assuming that he’s reached in as deep as he can manage. 

Then he pauses. He doesn’t withdraw his hand. 

You watch as he tilts his head to the side, seemingly in thought. You don’t realize what he’s thinking. You don’t realize what he’s taken notice of. What he’s suddenly become curious about. 

His hand rotates ever so slightly. 

You feel his fingers begin to curl inside of you. His claws briefly scrape against your inner walls, coaxing a pathetic mewl from you. 

He’s made room for more of his hand. 

Your next escapes you an erotic moan as he pushes in deeper.

Slowly. Carefully. Your insides happily stretch to accommodate his pleasant intrusion. 

Deeper. 

Deeper. 

Until the only thing preventing him from sliding his entire hand into your trembling orifice is his outstretched thumb. 

A thumb which then has easy access to your clitoris. 

You throw your hand against your mouth to keep your voice at a reasonable level as he begins to curiously rub your clit with his thumb. 

Firmly. 

Persistently. 

He applies careful pleasure and rolls the pad of his thumb against you in a clockwise motion. 

You break. 

After having been teased for so long, the sudden attention to your clitoris pushed you to the breaking point. 

He’s able to feel as your inner walls tighten briefly around his hand. He stops rubbing you. All movement on his end halts as he feels you ride out your orgasm.

You’re left panting, head in a fog. 

He’s not done just yet. 

His hand slides out of you, but he isn’t satisfied with his exploration. 

You watch as he studies his now glistening fingers. Slick and warm from having intruded upon your body. 

Then you somehow flush further as he allows himself a moment to study your now gaping orifice. He seems absolutely transfixed by the sight of your inner walls twitching. He stares. He stares intensely. Hungrily, even.

Suddenly, his eyes lock with yours for a moment. 

You can see it in his expression. He’s still curious. He still wants to explore the limitations of your flesh. 

Likewise, he can see that you’re still fascinated with his hands. That you aren’t yet satisfied with how he’s touched you. 

There’s still so many possibilities. So many ways to indulge and explore. 

Neither of you are ready to stop yet.

You give him silent permission. He’s happy to continue. 

Continue you will. 

Until you’re both satisfied with the things you’ve discovered about each other.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I am proceeding orderly to your askbox, totally not running and stumbling over myself, humbly requesting the light of my life, Angel Neil. Or Mer AU, if Angel Neil isn't behaving and needs quiet time in the corner. (I haven't been paying much attention to Tumblr lately, I hope you're doing well!)

WIP Wednesday (9/25) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 239)

"Her name was Lacey,” Bee says finally. “She said she saw ghosts."

"Past tense?"

"Past tense." Betsy repeats, looking solemn. "But there are no similarities between you and Lacey. You describe Neil as an angel, a being who would not hurt you. Her case was... Very different. I just wanted to be sure. And now I am. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I have plenty to worry about. Neil is not on the list.”

“If that ever changes, if Neil ever threatens you, I need you to tell me."

"He won't." 

"But if he does."

"Then I swear on hot chocolate and reality television that I will come to you first." Andrew says, holding up his hand as if he's testifying in court. Bee seems pleased by that. And amused. Andrew puts his hand down. “So… You're still of the mind that Neil's my imaginary friend, correct?"

"Or a harmless side effect of your medication."

Andrew sits there for a moment, pushes his tongue into his cheek. "What if he's not?"

"What if he's not harmless?" Bee asks, looking the slightest bit alarmed.

"No." Andrew gestures with his hand, trying to communicate without having to come up with words. "What if he isn't a side effect?"

"Are you suggesting that he is actually an angel here to protect you?"

"What I am suggesting, Betsy, is that it's a bit strange for him to only have shown up a few months ago when I have been taking these things for years."

"I…” Betsy closes her mouth. “That's a good point."

"So, what if the drugs have nothing to do with him? What if I'm just plain ol' psychotic?"

"I'm not sure that's a possibility, Andrew," Betsy says, flipping through his paperwork. "You have no family history of psychosis—"

"Oh Betsy, you forget who you're speaking to. I have no family history, period. If you recall, I only have two living relatives and they're both my age. My sperm donor could be tied down in a psych ward anywhere in the country and I would never know."

"Okay. You're right. It is possible. But I think the chances are pretty slim.”

“How slim?”

“Nearly non-existent.” Bee says. After a moment, she continues, “I have patients who are psychotic, Andrew. I’ve had patients who were schizophrenic. You do not exhibit the same symptoms as they do. I promise.”

"So I don't need to get fitted for a straight jacket."

"Exactly. Andrew, I'll reassure you as many times as you need me to. But I think you're fine. After June, we'll know if Neil was a side effect. If he sticks around after you're off your meds, we'll talk about it more. Okay?"

“I don’t think he’s a side effect, Betsy.” Andrew says. “I’ve seen him without them.”

“Without them?”

“At night when I come off them to sleep. Early in the morning before I’ve taken them.”

“Ah. Then, like I’ve been telling you, he’s a coping mechanism.” Betsy says. But she's wrong. Andrew has seen Neil eat and drink and hold things. He’s felt the angel’s warmth when they sat side by side. If Andrew has seen him sober, Neil is not a side effect. If Andrew is not psychotic, Neil is not a hallucination. That means he’s real. 

Boo hoo for Lacey, but Andrew's got an angel.

"I think you'd like Neil," Andrew says randomly.

“Of course I do. He’s good for you." Bee says, taking Andrew by surprise. She's said as much before, but not in so many words. As if answering an unasked question, she continues with, "You've told me that Neil encourages you to take care of yourself, to spend time with your family, to catch up on school work, and to take exy more seriously. These are positive things." 

“The rest I’ll give you. But exy will never be a positive.”

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

honestly it's been really healing being back to actively contributing things and writing out thoughts on tumblr the last week or so, because while twitter tends to be easier for me to write out Thoughts on without getting overwhelmed, the environment in the twitter fandom circles i'm interested in is not only infested with antis but cliqueish in a way that is caustic to the fucking soul if you try to express a thought that's more than three sentences long--a hundred times over if you're autistic in slightly the wrong way--and it's incredibly reassuring to come back to an environment where the very kindest and most inclusive people toward you are not clearly thinking the r-slur the entire time they interact with you lmao

[genericpuff]

an epitaph

[silvheirmane]

It’s funny how in your rules it states you’ve been stalked or whatever like you and your partner haven’t full blown run off people from the fandom. Get a life. You are not a victim no matter how many times you change your name.

Y'know I wasn't going to answer this and can't imagine who this is from, but genuinely have never had any instance with anyone in the fandom aside from people who were previously called out for harassment and stalking. The fact this is sent in to my bronya of all places makes me think it's from one of them. Also you're coming into my inbox on anon... And I'm the one who needs to get a life.....

[cookinguptales]

Okay! The Patreon is officially live!

After carefully considering all the feedback you gave me, I tried to create tiers that would give everyone options that they would like.

(Fingers crossed? lmao)

Currently there are four paid tiers.

$2 gets you early access to chapters and limited writer commentary. (See: when I really want you all to know something.)

$5 gets you, in addition to that, further writer commentary and blog posts on historical/mythological/art/music influences.

$7 gets you, in addition to that, access to four short stories that will supplement the main story. (A flashback, two additional scenes from other POVs, and a sort-of epilogue.)

$10 gets you, in addition to that, free access to the ebook when it is released.

Important: As far as I can tell, I cannot retroactively apply that benefit to subscribers. So you need to be subscribed to that tier when the ebook comes out at the end in order to receive it.

If you really just want to subscribe to that tier for one month at the end, I totally get that! I'm just saying that if you just want to subscribe to that tier temporarily, make sure you do it after the ebook is out!

But also, the ebook will be available for separate purchase at the end of everything. So that option will also be available to those who'd prefer to do that.

There is also a free tier, which will largely just get major updates. Right now, one of those major updates is a cover reveal. I hope you like it! I spent forever dithering with those stars.

Anyway! I am planning to start serializing all this ASAP. At the very least, next week there will be a foreword with information about the myth and why I've decided to go my own way with certain details. Chapter 1 (and Chapter 2) will be live on either the 15th or the 22nd depending on how busy my birthday gets lmao.

(I'm planning a tarot night for next week, which is why I might delay the start of everything. I don't want to spam you all THAT much.)

The book is fully written, so there is no chance of it being unfinished. Once it starts, updates will be every Wednesday.

I think that's it! Thank you everyone!

[whysamwhy123]

.

[purple-is-great]

Had the horrifying realisation that i am actually the type of person to prefer phone calls and face-to-face interaction over emails and other text-based communication when talking to unfamiliar people and in formal contexts

It's not because i'm especially easygoing, it's rather because if it's in text i will obsess over every word and punctuation mark and thus will never actually send the email to ask a professor for something, fill out the request form for assistance regarding something or do something else important (or if it's something i need to do i'll waste hours being nervous about it)

But if i call or talk face-to-face? I can't stress every word, and best of all I can instantly correct myself or explain myself. I get instant feedback on if what i'm saying makes sense!

This also applies to speaking languages i'm not fluent in. I used to think I found speaking swedish easier than writing just because i interact with the language more via speech than writing but nope, it's also because in speech errors are a natural part, while in writing they really stand out

[spaceratprodigy]

me reading the tags everyone left on my art

[probayern]

it's amazing how when you reach out to your friends and make plans you have plans again

[themushroomgoesyeet]

Idk I kinda don't like queer media as much - not in a way like "ugh it's queer, me no likey" but more like "ugh, it's queer, it's either going to be explicit romance or pushing an agenda that I don't care about"

Like don't get me wrong, I'm all for queer people representing & expressing themselves, and that kind of thing absolutely deserves to be shared, I just don't really care to consume that kind of content myself.

This isn't specific to queer stuff either; I really just don't enjoy political and romantic movies like....at all.

I'm allergic to politics as a whole because to me it's very toxic and negative most of the time and I really just don't care at all to partake in that kind of thing.

Also, as an ace person I have a hard time enjoying romance of any kind (except maybe romantic comedies), because while I may be a hopeless romantic I also have extremely high standards for what I think romance should be. Most of the time, those standards are never met because most people care about skipping the actual bonding romantically part and going straight to having sex.

All that being said, there is still queer media that I enjoy; tv shows that have subplots or background nuance that naturally include queer characters, and especially queer couples instead of having "the token gay person™" are absolutely delightful, and I also have quite a few queer ships and head canons of my own.

Are there acceptions to these opinions? Yes; Nimona is one of them. Will there be more acceptions in the future? Probably, I think that as long as the story is told well enough & is enjoyable enough to my absurd tastes and standards then I will be able to enjoy it just fine :)

please elaborate in tags :)

[my5hiningstars]

.

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.

[evangelifloss]

Thinking about a certain scene in Dungeon Meshi that completely encapsulates the Autistic experience of making friends as an adult and how hard it is to try and navigate it without ending up getting hurt.

Like IDK about y'all, but this is a common problem ALOT of Autistic Adults face when trying to make friends with other people, because unlike children who aren't good at keeping their opinions to themselves, Adults ARE. In society, we're even encouraged to "keep the peace" "be polite" and etc, which commonly leads to awful scenarios as shown above when Laois finds out his buddy has come to resent who Laois is without actually telling him. All too often the friends that we love to hang out with, people that we're so happy to spend time with, don't feel the same way and in many cases, come to blame us for our social cues or lack thereof.

And when/if we do eventually find out how our friend feels, Dungeon Meshi hits us with another painful panel of how that usually ends up playing out.

It's hard for Adults with Autism to make friends, and even harder to maintain them because alot of the ways Neurotypicals tell other Neurotypicals that they don't like a certain behavior is by quietly disengaging. Whether that involves having one sentence answers, going quiet, or having a certain tone in their voice, all those things signal annoyance or disapproval, but for the Neurodivergents, those subtle cues are completely missed.

And yet when we inevitably discover we DID do something, it is natural to ask "well why didn't you tell me?" because in our minds, it should've been the next step in the equation. However for the Neurotypicals, that's NOT something to bring up. Its important to be SUBTLE about the issue at hand and rely on signals to tell the other person. Blame is placed on us for not noticing the "obvious" signs of disapproval rather than the idea of talking it out as such things are uncomfortable and harder to do. Alot of the time what ends up happening is resentment due to the idea that it was "obvious" and the fact one didn't notice indicates a deliberate ignorance rather than a complete unawareness. It ends up calling into question our quality as a person and our sincerity. We get called "fake" or "malicious" or even "stupid" for failing social cues rather than questioning the decision to be indirect and vague.

For a manga about exploring the dungeon, it seems that the artist would rather explore very real and prevalent dynamics in society with the adventuring premise as a backdrop. I felt VERY seen in these panels, and many others, because it happens so suddenly and dare I say it, plainly. There's no dramatic build-up or spectacle made and in essence, it just Happens.

I think that's what makes the scene hit even harder. It seemingly comes out of nowhere for Laois, like how it always comes out of nowhere for alot of people, and it's never a dramatic twist either. It's always mundane and hurtful. A sudden unforeseen bump in the road that ends up calling into question one's entire friendship with someone and consequent other friendships. It asks "what if other friends feel the same. What if the people that I really like actually hate me and I don't know it?" Or at least that's what I came away with after reading the chapter. I've been where Laois was and the only reason I'm not there now is because I lost the naivete I had and doubt everyone else's sincerity.

[ridleymocki]

(seeing so many bad faith interpretations of the argument, y'all are really going to make me do this, okay HERE WE GO)

.................................

What Ed says: "I think last night was a mistake. I'm not ready for... Whatever this is."

What Ed means: "I didn't want last night to happen so soon or under those circumstances. Things are changing rapidly, which makes me feel out of control and scared."

What Stede hears: "I regret sleeping with you. I don't want the sort of relationship that you're after."

.................................

What Stede says: "It was a fine fish. It was... whatever. I was just trying to make you feel good!"

What Stede means: "I only cared about the fish because you cared about it, and I care about you. I liked the fish because it made you happy. Ordinarily, I'm ambivalent about fish."

What Ed hears: "I lied to you. I didn't care about your achievement I was just placating you to get what I wanted."

.................................

What Ed says: "Here's the news: I'm leaving. I got a job on a little fishing boat and I'm leaving. I'm a fisherman now."

What Ed means: "I think I need to be away from you to figure out who I am, because I haven't been able to do that while we're together, and your lifestyle now is the life I'm trying to leave behind."

What Stede hears: "I've made a decision to leave you and have a life without you. I don't value what we have enough to work with you to find a solution, I'd prefer to end it."

.................................

What Stede says: "Oh, Ed. Seriously? You're not a fisherman."

What Stede means: "I think you're using this plan to escape and avoid your problems. It sounds like you're pretending to be someone else. It seems to me like an impulsive decision and I am concerned."

What Ed hears: "I don't support this ambition. I think you're incapable. I don't think you can be different from what you have always been."

.................................

This is the kind of analysis done in therapeutic environments. When I put what they mean, it's not just a rephrasing but a boiling down to the core issue. I could go on to the rest of the dialogue but do you see the continuing ship-in-the-night miscommunication?? It's tripartite:

failing to express one's current emotional reality with the most accurate and clear language, often because that reality is not fully understood to oneself,

misinterpreting the other's language, due to preexisting sensitivities and defensiveness about one's own understanding of the situation,

increasing frustration and sense of personal attack that results from those misinterpretations, which perpetuates and worsens the poor communication.

Importantly, this kind of pattern means you miss the best and most important kernels of communication in an exchange because you're reacting to the more inflammatory parts.

Stede: "This can be whatever we want it to be." (I am willing to make changes to our arrangement so that you're happy). Ed: "I don't even know who I am! Alright? I know I don't want to be a pirate. And you, you're blowing up, you're the toast of the town." (I think we want different things. You're just starting a journey that I've already finished).

With those two bits alone they could've sorted this out. The first is the answer to the second. But they didn't -- couldn't -- latch onto it because all their other baggage was getting in the way.

And I'm being proven correct that this is what is happening, because I have seen next to nothing on here about the above two lines, only reactionary takes of fans also focusing on the inflammatory parts because of their predispositions. You're doing an encore performance of what they're doing.

Point being, there are no bad guys in this scene, just repeated system failure!

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Simon is a simple man who doesn't ask for much. Just a bit of peace to come home to. When suddenly you pop in to interrupt his tranquility. Maybe he doesn't completely hate it...

A/N: This is fluff if you squint. Slow burn?? This will probably just be part one if y'all dig the concept. Let me know what you think.

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Simon loves sitting on his balcony in the evening. He loved it before his new neighbor moved in. He wasn't the type to be overly concerned about the actions of other tenants. If someone was too loud, he'd just turn up the television. Banging from upstairs, he'd play some music. Smoking pot outside, that's fine he smokes cigarettes. And he was never one to meddle in others personal lives. He sought sanctuary in his alone time. 

While unlocking his front door one day he couldn't ignore the soft grunting coming from down the hallway behind him. He turns to see someone coming out of the stairwell with a box so big he can only make out a pair of hands on the sides and little legs coming out the bottom. He watched as you waddled all the way to the door right next to his own. You drop the box with a huff, leaning forward on the cardboard to catch your breath. 

"Hi neighbor," you greet between pants. You're wearing some baggy clothes and a beat up baseball cap, wide eyes staring up at him from under its brim. Just a hint of sweat speckling your temples. "Sorry for the noise, I promise I'm not a normally noisy person." you smile. 

"Hope not," he grunts and enters his own residence. Closing the door firmly without a second look. 

𝜗𝜚

The next day while he's drinking his morning coffee and going through his emails he is disturbed by a politely quiet knock on the door. When he looks through the peephole he sees you again. This time with your hair down, wearing a sundress. Looking a lot more put together. You're holding a tray in your hands. He opens the door but does not release the door chain, leaving only a crack in the door to reveal himself.

"Can I help you," he grumbles in a flat tone.

"Hey neighbor!" You don't let the small allowance of space dampen your spirit or at least you don't show it. "I made some cookies. I'd like to think it's good luck to christen a new place by making something sweet in it. The recipe ended up making way more than I planned for so I figured it would be the neighborly thing to do to offer you some." You give your brightest smile hoping to win him over. 

"I don't like sweets," he states.

"Oh, really? I thought everyone liked sweets..." Your shoulders slump the smallest bit as you pause for a moment in thought. "Well, I've got a baked ziti in the oven. It should be ready in about thirty minutes. I could pop by and drop off some when it's done, if you'd like?"

"Yeah, no thanks." He doesn't allow you to respond when he closes the door in your face. Simon is a distrustful man by nature and he won't let a sweet girl with a tray of goodies change that. They did smell really good though. He can't help himself when he looks through his peephole to watch you leave. You let out a defeated sigh and shuffle back to your apartment next door. 

𝜗𝜚

A few days later he runs into you again. He steps into the elevator, presses the button for the lobby, when he hears a familiar voice calling. 

"Wait, hold the elevator please!" You shout down the hallway. You jog towards the lift, trying to get your purse on your shoulder with one hand while balancing your phone, keys, and a travel mug in the other. Your jacket is only half on and the straps on your shoes are undone. Simon groans under his breath but, out of a second of sympathy, he holds his arm out to block the doors from closing. 

"Thank you," you say breathlessly and duck underneath his outstretched arm. "I'm a running little behind this morning." 

"No problem." His eyes remain forward, watching the doors slide shut as the two of you start descending. You finish putting on your jacket and run your fingers to settle your frazzled hair. 

"Can you hold this for a second?" 

"Uh.." He doesn't get a chance to answer when you're thrusting your warm cup into his hands. He watches as you shove your phone and keys into your purse then bend down to finish buckling the straps on your shoes. Unbothered when your skirt rides up your leg exposing your upper thigh. 

You stand back up, straightening your blouse. "Thanks again" You take the cup back allowing him to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Hey, I'm sorry if I came off as strong the other day."

"It's fine"

"I'm not the best with first impressions." He doesn't respond so you continue. "I didn't mean to intrude either. I'm sure you're a very busy man. Me too, I'm pretty busy with work and stuff. I write for the paper. Well, I am writing the cooking column right now but I'm hoping to get bumped up soon. Maybe something like crime would be cool. What about you? What do you do for work?"

The elevator's ding signals you've arrived at the lobby. As the doors open Simon turns to his head slowly to look at you and nods towards the open doors. 

"Ladies first" 

He wasn't fooled by your clumsy persona, he could feel an ulterior motive in you. He watched as you sauntered off. You are much more professional now, as you pull out a pair of sunglasses and slide them on. He watched the way your hips swayed in your tight skirt. You looked over your shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. Simon waits until you're pushing open the glass paneled double doors before he heads out of the lift himself. 

As you make it onto the city sidewalk, a man runs right into you, causing your coffee to spill down the front of your shirt. You gasp as the hot liquid splashes onto your freshly ironed blouse and down your chest. The man hardly pauses before redirecting around you looking irritated. You spin back around with a huff and shove back into the lobby, pacing to the elevator. 

"Hold the door, please" you groan, marching back while Simon blocks the doors again, containing his laugh into a tight smirk.

𝜗𝜚

Whenever you caught a glimpse of Simon you were quick to skip over and start a conversation. Which was quite a bit. It seemed he was always running into you. The elevator, the apartment gym, while taking out trash, in the parking garage, as he unlocks his door. Most of the conversation being one sided. He was starting to learn more about your life, all the information against his will, of course. 

You were a recipe columnist, also a great cook. You liked dogs but really wanted a cat. You were a single child. You moved here to get a fresh start after a bad relationship. You don't have many friends, that one is pretty obvious.

Then one night, while Simon is trying to enjoy a smoke outside on his balcony he's disturbed by loud shouting in your apartment. Not in your usual bubbly tone, no you sounded angry. He couldn't understand the words you were saying through the glass of your patio door. Then a deep voice is shouting back at you. After a few minutes of listening to the back and forth, your front door slams and then there is stillness. The moment is interrupted when you storm onto your own balcony, slamming the glass door shut behind you.

You brace yourself on the railing edge. He watches your shoulders heave with a few heavy breaths then start to shutter. Your head falls weakly into your hands and you begin to cry. Cry hard at that, sobbing that shakes your whole body. You cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet but your pathetic whimpers still slip though. 

For a moment Simon actually feels bad for you. In fact he feels angry, angry at whoever could have made you feel that way. Sure, you could be annoying at times. Okay annoying all the time but he has never heard you say a harsh word about anyone before. He can't fathom what you could have possibly done to deserve such harshness. You are a sweet girl. He considers saying something to comfort you in some way but after another minute of watching you cry meekly into your hands he thinks maybe not. It would be better to let you be alone. His own patio door is still open, perhaps and can slip back inside with you noticing...

Then he drops his lighter. 

Your head turns sharply to the direction of the clattering plastic against the floor. You lock your watery eyes with Simon and he feels an unexpected pang in his heart. You swiftly wipe your eyes and brush your ruffled hair in place the best you can. Even in the dim lighting illuminating from the city below he can still see how flushed your cheeks have become. 

You draw in a shaky inhale before speaking. "How long have you been out here?"

"Not long," He sees your eyes flick down to the half smoked cigarette between his fingers, giving away his lie. "You want one?" He asks, unsure how to comfort you. 

"I don't smoke," then a pause. "Can I just have a bit of yours?" Your voice is so feeble it's almost a whisper. As you look at him with big round eyes and pouty lips, he can't deny your request. 

He passes the half burnt cigarette over the small stone wall separating your balconies. You're shaky fingers brush against his, careful not to drop it. You bring it to your lips to pull a slow drag. Your eyes flutter shut before you release the puff of smoke, carefully not to blow it in his direction. Simon watches the cloud drift out of your mouth, disappearing into the chilled night air. You lean on the wall connecting your balcony to Simon's. You stare down at the glowing red ember emitting a thin plume of smoke. 

"You alright?" It's him this time who breaks the silence.

"Yeah," you mumble, not lifting your gaze. 

"You sure?"

"No," you release a tired sigh. 

He waits a beat before speaking. "You told me you weren't gonna be a noisy neighbor."

A smile begins to creep onto your face. "I'm sorry, I broke my promise. How can I make it up to you?" When you look at him now, he sees a shimmer return back to your eyes. 

You pass the cigarette back over to him. It's basically down to the filter when he brings it to his own lips and takes a final drag, blowing the smoke between the two of you. It disperses around your features while you watch him. He stubs it out in an ashtray on his little patio table. The cool night dries his chapped mouth. He licks his lips and tastes an unfamiliar cherry flavoring. He looks down at the butt in his ashtray and observes the faintest red ring of lipgloss on the smushed filter. 

"You know, I could go for some baked ziti."

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Part II

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