#and like.....................the novelty of that will not work in the opposite direction

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 18

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: happy weekend.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“How do you like it?” Luciana asks as she spins you to face the mirror.

Your eyes round at your own reflection. You can’t help but lean forward to get a better look at yourself. You never had a haircut like this. Nothing more than the discount trims that were often worse than not just growing it out or your at-home hack job.

“Wow,” is all you can utter.

“I hope that’s a good wow,” she chimes.

“Uh, yes, yes,” you sit back and tear your eyes from the mirror. “Thank you, it’s–”

“Oh, aren’t you so lovely!” Frigga interrupts as her heels click across the salon, “oh, it’s so wonderful. Look at you!”

Before you can react, the chair’s turning again. Frigga sweeps your hands away from under the cape and pulls you to your feet. Luciana moves to undo the long black shroud and swipes it away from your body, littering more hair onto the floor.

“Just a moment,” Luciana girds and brushes the stray bits from the back of your shirt, “there we are.”

“I must say, darling, you are even more stunning than I thought,” she keeps a hold of your right hand, “oh, Eliana, El!” She tweets across the salon, “what about makeup? Hm? Nothing too heavy, maybe a lip and some mascara–”

The platinum blond chuckles, endeared by her demanding client. You see where Laufeyson inherited that; the way the command rather than ask. You could never.

“I’ll take the little fawn,” Eliana agrees, “I have just the thing in mind.” She approaches on her long slender legs, “she has perfect colouring.”

You can’t help but preen at the compliments. You’re not used to them yet, you doubt them. These women are all so put together and gorgeous, surely they’re just being nice. You’re so much the opposite, your like a novelty; a doll for them to dress up.

“Sit,” Eliana points to another chair, “just relax, honey, I’ll take care of you.”

Frigga lets you go and you obey. You climb up into the chair and gasp as the back reclines. Eliana starts by swabbing your face with a cool liquid then pats it dry. Next, she applies a fragrant moisturizer. Her touch is relaxing but strange. You’re not used to anyone touching you.

You close your eyes as she sets to her work. She explains that she’s applying some liner and how to get a little wing at the end. She says you should keep it thin and subtly, then has you check your first eye in the mirror.

“You see, a nice brown, or grey is all you need, black is so harsh,” she shows you the pencil she used.

“Oh, thanks,” you murmur.

“Let’s even that out,” she nudges you back again and you appease her.

As she draws on your other eyelid, you hear a subtle buzz, followed by Frigga’s shrill greeting. She apologises to someone unseen before she carries on her call, heels tapping further and further away. You can hardly focus between her, Eliana’s directions, and the chatter all around you.

“Mmhmm, yes we were thinking of the Garden…” Frigga trails off as the door rings then swiftly blocks out her conversation.

“Mascara, look up,” Eliana directs, again, you obey. There’s nothing else you can do.

As nice as it all is, the hair, the makeup, and all her lovely plans, you can’t help but be embarrassed. Frigga, and Mr. Laufeyson, know you can’t afford all this. It doesn’t feel as much like kindness as it does condescension. As if they are the blessed elite giving you, a noone, with all their privileges. 

It’s not a kind gesture, but a statement. You’re so far below them, you don’t even know what you don’t have. If you are to be anywhere near them, you have to fit their mold.

🧹

After the salon, Frigga drags you down the shopping strip. You shy away from the gleaming windows and the faceless mannequins in their luxurious outfits. You couldn’t wear any of it. It wouldn’t look right. Anyone would know in an instant that you don’t belong.

Inside the first shop, you make yourself as small as you can, crossing one arm to cling to the other, folding your shoulders in. You’re frightened of brushing against anything or knocking over that hand display with all the jewelry on it. As you pass a mirror, you nearly trip. You forget for a moment that it’s you staring back.

You shake your head and back away. You don’t like that feeling. You don’t recognize yourself. Even if you never really loved the girl looking back, she was familiar.

“Darling,” Frigga gives you a start as she nears, “how about this? Hm? It’s absolutely adorable.”

She holds up a purple dress; almost like an overall but more refined with three buttons along the right side. She has a plain white blouse behind it. It’s lovely but you don’t know if you like the length. You don’t think you’ve worn a skirt since grade school.

“Oh, it’s… nice.”

“Come on, try it on,” she pleads, “it would look so good on you, darling. With your figure.”

You gulp and blink, looking down at yourself. What figure? The boxy button-up and straight-legged tweed don’t betray much of that. Your body is your body; it’s just there.

“I’ll try,” you relent. It wouldn’t be polite to say no.

“Alright, you take this to a dressing room and I’ll find some shoes,” she shoves the hangers at you, “excuse me,” she turns and waves to the associate who greeted you on entry, “yes, please, she needs a room.”

The woman with ginger curls approaches and you hand over your, or rather, Frigga’s picks. Her name tag reminds you of her introduction; Celia. She guides you into the back to a large room lined with curtained stalls. She takes you to one and hangs the clothing within. You thank her quietly and turn to stare at the lilac fabric.

You sigh and pull the curtain shut. You strip away reluctantly. It’s all so surreal, you don’t want to believe it. You’re wary of the unusual good luck, the unearned generosity. Why would Mr. Laufeyson agree to this? And why would Frigga want to spend time with you, a maid wearing a title beyond her means?

“Darling, are you ready?” Frigga calls through as her heels tap out her arrival.

“Almost,” you call back, shimmying into the purple overall as you try not to rumble the sleeves of the blouse. 

You refuse to look at yourself before you face the curtain and brace yourself. You step out as Frigga waits patiently, sitting on one of the leather poufs with a pair of white loafer flats in her lap, little silver bows clasped by the toe.

“Oh my,” she gasps as she rises, “oh darling, that’s… that becomes you. Oh,” she nears and hands you the shoes, “put these on then. Let’s see the whole look.”

Like most things in life, you let her bowl you over. You just go along with what you’re told. You go through the motions numbly, waiting for it to be over.

You bend to slip into the shoes one at a time. Once you stand, she ushers you around to face the mirror. She squeezes your shoulders before playing with your hair, setting you straights as she stands behind you.

“Look at you, darling,” she purrs. 

You falter as you see the woman staring back at you. That’s you! You can hardly see yourself under it all. You press your hands to the skirt, wishing for a few more inches, and squeak the soles on the floor as you shift awkwardly in the stiff leather.

“This is it. It suits you so well. Sharp collars, cinched here,” she touches your waist, “I think we have a good start.”

“Um, thanks, but er…”

“You can wear that out. It’s a lovely outfit for lunch,” she insists, “but I’m thinking a few boucle jackets, some matching skirts, a splash of pastel,” she rambles on dreamily, “pearls, of course, maybe some rose gold…”

Your brow pinches over your nose. You don’t know what to do. You can’t say no and even if you were brave enough to, you don’t think she’d hear you. She’s like her son, that way. She only sees what she wants and there’s no denying her.

“Oh, thank you so much for humouring me,” she drawls, “you know, ever since the divorce, I’ve been terribly lonely.” You’re startled by her sudden shift. You blink at her, “my own daughter was never one for the shops, at least, not with me but Sif… she… well, c’est la vie.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Why? Oh, don’t apologise, it is me who should,” she laughs at herself as she leads you back into the shop room, “to you and your own mother. I have accosted her daughter!”

You nod and seal your lips. You feel the pluck in your chest. You distract yourself with a nearby dress; it’s beige and boring.

“I hate to overstep but Loki did mention your father is sick. I’m certain it can’t be easy,” she hums, “it never is. You and your mother–”

“My mother…” you pipe up, voice cracking. You shake off the wave of dizziness and sigh, “my mother is dead.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” she touches her chest, “dear me, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have–”

“I’m not upset. I never knew her,” you shrug and move on to a more colourful dress. “Just me and dad.”

“Well, it’s nice you have each other,” she says.

“Yeah,” you agree dully.

She’s quiet as she browses beside you, sifting through hangers. Tension ripples between you. Neither of you know what to say.

“How about this?” She holds up a satin blouse in a dainty shade of rose, “it would compliment your complexion.”

“Um, sure,” you let the thickness in the air slake away, “I… I’m not picky.”

“Oh, darling, you are too agreeable,” she teases, “you best not let my son play on that. He could always hear a no or two, yes?”

You nod, uncertain what she means. He’s your boss, you don’t tell him no. He doesn’t ask for your input. He just says and you do. That’s why you’re here. He needed a toy to give his mother, and you’re playing along.

🧹

The restaurant is just as resplendent and upscale as the shops. You try to keep stride with Frigga as she struts up to the open doors, a hostess standing behind a podium just outside as the sunlight beams down in a mid-afternoon haze. She smiles at the elder blonde as she greets her with enthusiasm.

“Good afternoon, we were hoping for a table outside,” Frigga declares.

“For two?” The hostess asks as she looks down at the tablet in front of her.

“A bigger table, please, we have someone joining us,” she answers.

“Great, we can fit you in,” the woman assures and waves you through the small gate of the patio. 

She takes you to a table near the colourful flower beds and offers the drink menu. Frigga thanks her and sits as you mimic her. You do your best not to fidget despite the persistent displacement zinging through your nerves. She browses the menu and taps her groomed fingernail on the table.

“Is it too early for Zinfandel?” She wonders.

“Oh, I don’t… know,” you put your own menu down, content with a glass of cranberry juice.

“Or perhaps a white?” 

You shrug. You don’t drink. You never have and never really thought of trying it. You rub your cheek and look around, squirming at the other diners in their carefree conversations. What are you doing here?

A new server approaches and takes your orders. Frigga gets her wine and you murmur your request for a glass of juice. You hand over the menus and she checks her slender golden watch.

“Mm, I did say two,” she tuts and takes out her phone.

It’s almost amusing to see someone disappointed in Mr. Laufeyson. To be on the other side of the table. You’re not the one rushing to meet a deadline for once. You twiddle your hands in your lap and peer around at the din.

A table of women sit with cocktails and green salads, gabbing loudly. They are probably your age. Friends. Something you never had. Probably never will.

“Mother,” a voice proclaims across the patio and you wince. It’s familiar but not the timbre you expected. Maybe it’s a coincidence.

“There you are,” Frigga stands and you turn to look over your shoulder at the burly blond. Oh.

You rise too, not wanting to seem rude. Thor hugs his mother and kisses the top of her head, “I was caught behind an accident,” he explains, “oh,” he faces you, “and who… it is the little maid!” He takes you by the shoulders and you flinch as he bends to kiss your cheek, “you remember me, yes?”

You can only nod as you wriggle out of his grip. You resist the urge to wipe your cheek.

“Maid! Do not call her that,” Frigga chides as she sits.

You lower yourself back to your seat. Thor drags out the chair next to you and you try not to show your discomfort. He is almost too wide for the seat as his thigh presses to yours.

“I never got a name, you know? Brother hides everything away,” he sniffs, “so forgive me,” he leans as he tries to look you in the face, “a proper introduction is in order; I am Thor, you recall, hm?”

You nod again and eke out your name. He offers his large hand and you hesitate to take it. You won’t be rude though. His grip swallows your hand up, tight and unyielding. When he finally releases you, you let out a slow breath and stare at the table.

“Speaking of,” Frigga remarks, “he is late.”

“Not surprising, he can hardly be bothered to leave his cave,” Thor scoffs, “what a nice colour.”

He touches the button on your dress and you squeeze your legs together, trying to sidle away without being obvious.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

“Oh, we had a wonderful day shopping,” Frigga supplies, “she’s so sweet.”

“Ah, yes, I’m certain father will be happy to hear you had a spree,” Thor chortles.

“What he doesn’t know…” Frigga giggles.

The server returns and sets down the stemmed glass of dark wine and your juice. Thor orders rye as you lean forward to sip, the tangy flavour tautens your cheeks. You feel your chair shift and sit back, only to meet the curl of his fingers on the back rest. He doesn’t draw away, his leg splaying wider to touch yours again.

“So we are waiting on him?” Thor challenges and slaps his stomach with his other hand, “I’m starving.”

“We’ll give him another ten,” Frigga girds, “perhaps he is also stuck in traffic.”

“Not to worry,” Thor booms, “we can have fun without him, eh. Probably more.”

“Oh, don’t,” Frigga reproaches, “this is supposed to be a nice family meal, you will not start with him again.”

“It wasn’t me. He’s the one who stormed out–”

“Enough,” she interjects, “we are moving past it.”

“I’ve moved on,” Thor insists, “mother, really, I am not the one who keeps picking fights.”

“Mmm,” Frigga purses her lips, “nor do you discourage them.”

“Me?” Thor feigns innocence, his fingertips brushing the back of your collar, “I only said hello and he went out of his mind.”

“Um,” you sit forward, knocking the table slightly, “er, I… is there a bathroom?”

“Oh, yes, darling,” Frigga turns to you as if only then recalling your presence, “just through the front door to the right.”

“Thank you,” you stand, “sorry, uh, excuse me.”

You turn and scurry off, clutching the sides of the dress to keep it from riding up. Once you get inside, you roll your shoulders, trying to shake off the sensation of his touch. You reach back to tug at your collar.

It’s peculiar to think, but you hope Mr. Laufeyson gets there soon.

[cripplecharacters]

This might be a bit of a weird question as I know this isn't a drawing blog, but do you happen to have any pointers for finding good reference photos for drawing cane users? I'm having trouble finding interesting/dynamic poses, and the vast majority of pose generator sites I've found don't even show people with mobility aids. Stock photo sites and google are also limited in their usefulness, mostly giving me very stiff poses. If you have any tips that would be great.

hello dearest asker!

I tried to be an artists once upon a time so let me direct you to some things that might help! Here is an excellent post written up by @deoidesign shows how motion and functionality with a cane works. Here is a post by @sparrowsocks on the cane design itself and the practicality of it. Here is another "How To" guide that is a bit more simple but covers how the hand changes with different handles.

Here is a reference of hands gripping cylindrical objects that I think might be a little helpful. Grabbing a cane or just moving it are all things that go into it too.

If you're going for more a historical setting, Here is a library of sources of historical walking sticks and canes. That source is more novelty canes and not for practicality for a mobility aid, but Here is another source for History and it has more practical canes.

Also things like old photo rolls when film was just becoming what we know today could be something helpful too.

[Image Description: A black and white picture roll of two sets with twelve frames in each. The first roll is a side angle of a man holding a can and walking then taking a right turn and walking back. The second roll is a backside angle of the man walking with the cane and then taking a right turn and walking back.]

We can see for example in the first two frames how the opposite leg moves with the cane.

And of course we have more photos from the Victorian era of men with canes. Granted canes were used largely for fashion but a lot of people did use them for balance and such too. Also they're good references for poses while holding a cane.

Another thing I can recommend is just watching videos of someone using a cane. Look up disabled YouTubers or people who do physical therapy videos and they show largely how movement with a cane should look and more.

If you're looking for dynamic poses I would recommend looking up cosplayers or models who are disabled and use canes. But also looking up disabled actors that use canes or similar mobility aids and go through their filmography is another good way to see references. A lot of disabled people who are artists also post their own photos and videos for art references specifically too.

One last thing is how the character holds their body and what type of cane they need is gonna depend on how they are disabled. Working that out and doing more research is gonna change some things. But also even though there is a proper way to use a cane, some people use canes in different ways to suit their needs and comfort. The biggest example in media is House from House MD and while Hugh Laurie isn't disabled, he does a pretty accurate portrayal of someone using a cane in an alternative way. I personally (when I was getting fitted for one) would use my cane very much as House does, and other people have said much the same.

Hopefully this helps in some way and your fellow artists may be able to throw more help in the notes. Happy drawing!

~Mod Virus 🌸

[fleetingsonghurricane]

Mastermind

I'm new here. I don't know my way around here and this is my first Cobert story. Writing their kind of English is impossible for me (it isn't my first language nor have I studied Victorian English), so I don't know how well I can portray them. I thought I share it still, maybe someone likes my approach on young Cobert. It's quite different to what I've read. I would love the feedback.

So in case you're interested here it is:

Cora stood in the shade of one of those decorative bushes. She couldn’t sit on a bank, it would be too obvious, but she still needed to ensure he could see her. Her directions had been rather vague because she herself hadn't known where exactly she'd be able to get away. She exhaled in relief when she saw him finally coming through the passage way between the bushes. Fortunately, the secret garden in Regent’s Park was not as secret, but still beautiful nonetheless. It was a romantic spot to meet.

"You've asked to see me, Miss Levison?" Robert whispered, trying to hide his nerves. Whatever she wanted to say could throw his plan back in months, or worse, maybe a whole other season. But also because it was forbidden to meet like this. And she looked lovely. There were a lot of reasons for being nervous, and he disliked that. He always prided himself on being an honest man. This behaviour was the opposite of it.

"Yes." She nodded, pulling him in a bit closer, so they weren't seen as easily. "How did you manage to meet me without a chaperone?" Cora asked, enjoying that he was nervous. Even if she had only met him a handful of times, he was very easy to read. Surprisingly, she liked him that about him. He wasn't one for making up a front. This was a great deal different from her other suitors. By now, she could face that she might have a crush on him. But that was beside the point. No, there were more pressing matters at hand. She shouldn't think about teasing him now.

"Didn't you ask me to do that in your letter?" Now, his cheeks were getting red, and he could feel it. What if it was his fault that the plan was failing? Worse, what if he had misread this situation?

"I did. Golly. You're really not used to teasing." She laughed but felt a little pity and decided to come to the point. "Let me be straightforward. I know, it'll be way too American for you. But if my plan works out, you'll have to get used to it." Before she started, she gave him a quick smile, looking over his shoulder to be sure they weren't made, before she started. "The season is coming to an end. My mother wants to leave in five days because she has some business to attend to at home. I know that in two days from now, there's a big meeting set up with The Duke of Fitzroy. And I'll walk out of there as an engaged woman. So, if you want to propose, it needs to happen before that. I suggest tomorrow evening. You can show me the national gallery."

Robert was too stunned to even say a thing. This couldn't be true. She misread his lack of answer as not understanding. So, she put it more plainly, knowing she was running out of time. "We both know this is what it comes down to at the end. My parents want me to have a title, and you need the money. At least you lost it because of inaction, instead because of prostitutes and gambling."

Now, the viscount took a deep breath to interrupt her, to soften the harsh truth, but she held up her hand. "Oh, you needn't be so shocked. The cards have already been dealt. It's quite simple, really. You need my dowery. I have to marry an English novelty. That's set in stone, and I can do nothing. What I can do is marry someone who doesn't detest looking at me and can hold a conversation I can enjoy. We both know that won't happen with him. I know you want me for my money. Just like he does. The difference is, I enjoy spending time with you, I like you, I can see myself being happy at Downton. I won't beg. I'm telling you now because you seem to have a hard time with courting. I know you didn't want to get married this season. I know it's your father who put this plan into action. You decide whether you want to follow through with my proposal. I just, I hope this will be the encouragement you needed." Cora explained calmly, a little more elaborate this time , knowing she had to rush, because her chaperone would find her soon enough, and it better not be talking with a bachelor viscount.

"I thank you for letting me." Was all he could get out too flabbergasted to get his thoughts in order in time. She was right, being this straight forward, this bluntness he wasn't used to it.

"You're welcome." She nodded at him, as if a transaction had just happened between them. She wasn't too fond of his reaction, but after this season, she had learned that English men didn't show their emotions really. "Alright then, I must take my leave before Harris notices that I didn't get lost by accident. I hope to see you again soon, Robert." She made sure to pronounce his name in her most American accent, knowing it made him smile. She squeezed his hand, before walking away without looking back.

On her way back to find Harris, Cora went through her plan again. She knew she was in trouble. But she needed Robert to propose first, needed to say yes in a public place so people would know, and her family couldn't make her take her yes back. She knew that her mother would go on for hours about how naive she was that the Duke meant to propose. She'd berate her for not seeing the difference in the titles. Yes, her return journey home would be nothing but her mother telling her just what a fatal decision she had made. And Cora wouldn't argue. No, she'd apologise. Tell her mother, just how sorry she was, how overrun by feelings she had been. That she loved Robert. She'd play the part of being young and naive well. To make sure, that she behaved as expected. Even though she had taken her mother's most important decision of her daughter's life away from. But this was a decision Cora wanted to be involved in. What she could decide was whether to marry someone who despised her but married her for money anyway or who didn't care about her but married her for her money anyway and could look her in the eyes while talking to her.

"You could have been a duchess." Her mother would say, and Cora would act as if she cared, that she was sorry for her mistake. But she knew this wasn't a mistake. Robert only cared for Downtown, which was way more beautiful than the Duke's home, while the Duke cared about appearances. And being seen and heard. Also Robert made her smile, made her feel like he saw more than just her money in her. It didn't matter that he didn't see her as more than just a bank, because she could be happy with him. That was enough for her. And it was enough for her that only she knew that. And Robert. But she was sure he wouldn't tell anyone about this. This could be their secret.

[melanated-writersblock]

OMGP Prologue

For those of you that actually appreciate some sort of plot😩🍸

For as long as you’ve known him, Toji Fushiguro has never been one to back down from a challenge. He’s always going out of his way to prove you wrong and it only got more frequent after you two got together. So when you made a passing joke about how Toji wouldn’t be able to survive the infamous No Nut November, he took that shit to heart.

And the challenge was set.

But it’s not like he was just doing it for the sake of novelty, there was a reward. You and Toji made a pact that if he completed No Nut November SUCCESSFULLY, then when the clock stuck 12 midnight on December 1st, he could have you. Whenever he wanted. However he wanted. You offered up more days, in case he’d need breaks. But he insisted, saying he only needed one. And when you two shook on it, Toji smiled, because he knew he’d win.

The month was long, and obviously it was a pain not being able to touch him and him touch you. The sexual tension that radiated off of the both of you when lounging in opposite sides of your apartment felt stronger than any cursed energy a sorcerer could possibly harness. It was almost concerning. Finally, November 30th came.

2:30 PM.

There was a certain…peace…that fell over the apartment, all day. You knew Toji was around, because you could hear his footsteps and movements when he went to do stuff….but it seemed like he was purposely avoiding you. Matter of fact, you KNEW he was avoiding you!

7:45 PM.

You were in the kitchen making dinner and needed something from an overhead cabinet above the stove, and SOMEONE decided to conveniently place it further back than you could manage. Toji watched you from the living room couch as you bent over the stove slightly, reaching as far back into the cabinet as you could for garlic salt that genuinely shouldn’t have been there. He studied the way the hem of your shorts rode up your ass cheeks and got caught between your thighs. He wanted to be between them so badly. He NEEDED to. He wanted to see you struggle for a bit, before he could put you out of your misery. At least in the only way that was allowed, for now. “Stop, before you hurt yourself. I got it.” You hadn’t even processed that Toji was already behind you when he leaned over you to grab the seasoning salt. Oh god he was so close. He smelled good, he FELT good, big and firm, like he’d gotten impossibly stronger or something. It made you wonder how many poor sorcerers had to suffer because of this silly little bet. His abs pressed against the folds of your clothed back, and maybe you were just that feral, but you swore on your soul you could feel his hardness right against your ass. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes…unless you were ready to throw your 30 day streak down the fucking drain. He knew what he was doing to you, and he enjoyed that it was working. Toji handed the spice to you, smiling to himself before walking off. You finally stopped holding your breath, and went back to cooking.

9:26PM.

Time was tormenting you both. You took your 2nd cold shower of the day and it didn’t help a damn thing. Toji flipped through channels to try to distract himself from even looking in the direction of the bathroom in your shared bedroom.

10:32 PM.

Toji poured a glass of water in the kitchen, and you watched from behind your phone screen on the couch as he drank, and droplets of water trickled down his chin…down his neck…down to his fitted SavagexFenty shirt that you actually regret buying for him right about now. This man had the actual BALLS to LOOK AT YOU while this was happening. Your eyes stayed locked on each other while he came back to sit on the other couch across the room. He was almost at the finish line.

11: 45 PM.

You laid in bed, dozing off. You decided to turn in after you felt like the tension between you and Toji started to die down. In and out of sleep, your eyes lazily swayed between the clock on your nightstand and the cracked bedroom door where faint light from the living room TV reflected on it. Everything was so peaceful that you hadn’t even noticed your clock inching towards 11:58 PM. You close your eyes for a mere few seconds, opening them to see Toji removing his shirt as he walks through the bedroom door tossing it off to the side as he walks towards you, undoing his sweatpants with a devilish smile.

It’s officially midnight. December 1st is here. And you’re in for a long day.

December 1st

[gumi-writes]

So. I was in the mood to get my thoughts out on this part of Ais’ profile:

on ais | limits unmet, unmatched

It’s obvious that Ais enjoys a good fight, but the inclusion of how he dislikes ones that are easy is an interesting, incredibly illustrative one. Seeking out violence is one thing, and such reasoning behind it can vary widely, but wanting your opponent to be a match for you is another, far more specific matter.

You’re not searching for someone to dominate, for starters—and in fact the idea bores you to the point where surely the energy spent on such lacklustre opposition would annoy you more than anything else. A waste, and an irksome one at that—there’s no sport in something that doesn’t make him work hard.

And he undeniably likes to work for it. Ais is quick to curiosity (though less in the wide-eyed sense and much more in the kind of scrutiny to intensify an already intense gaze) but even quicker to losing interest. If the novelty of the unknown is lost, then there has to be something else worth the sustained attention, otherwise Ais will move on to the next thing without looking back.

As a result, anything that can capture his attention is likely making it hard for him in some way. It would be beneath him, otherwise—what’s the point in all that tempered strength and honed acuity if it has nowhere to go?  

But he does get restless, is the thing. An aspect of disliking isolation is surely the boredom that comes with it, and sometimes you have to make do. So you fight. And you fuck. And if you’re lucky, the person on the other end will make it worth your while. The years of experience you have in reading people might be of actual use, just like the stamina and endurance you’ve built up, and what an exciting thought that is.

Enough to make you search—rather actively—for it. And you can’t search for such a thing without seeking someone to meet your standards. Singular, because I do believe Ais would stop looking once he’s found the right person—while he’s definitely a whore (lol) when it comes to sleeping around, I don’t think he has quite the same mindset when it comes to bloodshed and the act of gratifying himself through it.

For that matter, I have a theory that Ocudeus occupying some part of Ais is a direct consequence of Ais’ hunt for an absolute equal. He definitely fucked around and found out, but it wasn’t what he was looking for, and because Ais is a glutton for particular punishment with absolutely no shame to spare, he hasn’t let it stop him. With reckless, heedless abandon, he hasn’t let it stop him.

Idle hands seemed a fate far worse, and never mind that the alternative made him look like a masochist. Not in the most basic of sense of the word, but how else would you describe his drive to find someone to get entangled with in the most satisfyingly violent way possible? It’s not about the pain, and he is annoyingly not pathetic about it, but Ais is a masochist in how thoroughly he wants his limits tested. He can take it. Have you seen him? He can take it, and—fucked up as he is—he wants to.

Especially since—and this is an additional theory here—Ais either has accelerated healing, hasn’t met anyone that can mark him to any significant extent, or both. This pairs quite well—or poorly—with how his lack of self-preservation bespeaks a morbid fascination with his own mortality, the most curiosity inducing thing of all.

Not that he’s in a hurry to get himself killed, and there is pride preventing him from being an outright deathseeker, but if the right person were to come along…

…then dying at the hands of someone worthy would have been well worth it.

[cityandking]

Gemini + Kol for the zodiac asks!

thanks!! // zodiac headcanons

⊹ — GEMINI .

≻ how does your muse communicate with others ?

well, um. badly. she's got very little social grace and she's also not super in tune with herself and it's kinda hard to communicate your wants and needs and intents when you don't actually know them in the first place. she tends towards bluntness and a certain assumption that people will understand where she's coming from (though recently she's learning that people will Not understand where she's coming from and are in fact coming from completely opposite directions which is. stressful.)

≻ how does your muse handle the duality within themselves ?

it's something she's aware of but is uncomfortable acknowledging. her upbringing really emphasized certainty and unity; feeling fractured or pulled in different directions makes her feel like she's failed something

≻ is your character predictable ? unpredictable ?

she's mostly predictable. comes from the soldier training and a heavy emphasis on working within a very rigid and structured system. she saves her moments of unpredictability for when she thinks they'll benefit her most

≻ how does your muse react to change ?

badly but also eagerly. she's not good with adjusting her rhythms and expectations, but she also likes novelty and is easily engaged with new problems and experiences. she most likes experiencing novelty when it's relatively close to her comfort zone; having to learn new things from scratch (and being bad at adapting) makes her irritable and really pings her inferiority complex

[ipsen]

Consider: Eto at a gala meeting from her publishing company and sneaking out with Kaneki to do dumb shit like 2 teenagers

hoof alright just drop that in my lap. under the cut

He is her bodyguard, and he must keep an eye on her at all possible times.

That also means making sure she arrives at all social obligations on time, even when— especially when— she complains. In the same vein, he must attend those same obligations even if he would rather stay at home and read a book.

On the way there, he has to make sure she looks presentable before appearing in public. He must take care of any stray strand of hair, any smudge of makeup, before someone sees and becomes perturbed. It's ridiculous, she says. He gets to attend in a simple black suit with minimal gel in his hair while she has to get dolled up and wear a dress with no pockets.

He doesn't respond, for it is not his job. He is her bodyguard.

And being a bodyguard includes keeping her out of harm's way, physical and otherwise. He looks at the member list again. Her ex, the "reaper made flesh" in her words, is on the list. He makes a mental note to look out.

When they arrive, she groans. She mentions a book she's been wanting to finish. He picks some lint off her shoulder, and for some reason, she pauses.

... She asks how she looks, twisting her head this way and that.

He pauses for a moment before saying she looks good.

She shuts up after that.

The event is nothing special, and most of it passes in a blur. The only real note he is able to make is on the quality of the available drinks, as well as their poor choice her publishing company made when displaying her most famous— and least entertaining— work. It's a fact not lost on her, either, and she rolls her eyes at it.

However, he is still her bodyguard, and he stays on alert while she is forced to mingle. He makes sure she doesn’t stumble or fall as they move about, and he clears his throat when she's about to say something she’ll regret. As the night continues, she clings to him more and more. He thinks it's the alcohol getting to her.

Then, it happens. The novelty of her appearance wears off, and an opportunity presents itself: one that she is quick to take.

He’s sure to follow her when she wanders off and away from the crowds. When asked by strays why, she says she’s headed for the restroom. A bold-faced lie, considering it’s in the opposite direction. He follows her anyway because he is her bodyguard, and he forces down any possible outcomes for himself.

A pity.

In the silence of the room, the picturesque image of her author melts away, and the real her appears. It isn't long before he finds himself backed against a wall, her palms on either side of him.

She’s drunk, he says, even though she hasn't had nearly enough to warrant the statement. She opts to raise her brow instead of calling him out like she usually does. He looks left, then right.

It's quiet, and they are alone.

...

...

...

... They return to the gathering, still out of breath but feeling rather refreshed for it. The night passes without incident, though he is far more cognizant of her gaze on him than before. It straightens his back, making him feel a small swell of pride in his chest.

He is her bodyguard, after all, and he must keep an eye on her at all possible times.

[primordialsoundmeditation]

This week’s astrology forecast: January 29thth to February 4th

Message for the week:

The week starts off with a flurry of exciting, innovative, productive energy with Mars in productive Capricorn in a trine to future seeing Uranus. Uranus can bring favorable unexpected opportunities for moving forward. With Uranus having just turned direct, all the planets are now moving forward and accelerating the pace.

The energetic surge at the start of the week peters out by midweek, with no major aspects until Friday’s Mercury stimulating sextile to imaginative Neptune. Although this enhances all creative and spiritual activities, it does pull attention away from more worldly activities—like work.

The weekend is excellent for the personal side of life. Saturday has all the makings for dating and romance, with the Moon in intimate Scorpio in harmony with passionate Mars, romantic Neptune, and mentally stimulating Mercury.

Monday: Stay open to novelty and unexpected opportunities while Mars is in a flowing trine to innovative Uranus today. This leads to intuition in action—don’t wait for your intuition to inspire you, instead, set about your activities and your intuition will assist you. The Moon is in task-oriented Virgo and forms a grand trine with Mars and Uranus, leading to things clicking into place smoothly. You may have to harness your attention this afternoon to stay on point while the Moon opposes escapist Neptune—keep to what is real and right in front of you.

Tuesday: The Moon is in cooperative Libra in harmony with Pluto in Aquarius, enhancing all cooperative endeavors. You may be called on to use Libra’s diplomatic skills this evening while the Moon is in an aggravating square to Venus (relationships), and others may have a different agenda than you. Peace is assured with the Moon then moving into a flowing trine to the Sun.

Wednesday: You may have to walk lightly around others today with the Moon in fair-minded Libra opposite the wounded healer Chiron this morning, and then square to agitating Mars this evening. This may make you hypersensitive to injustices and things that just aren’t fair. The high road (there is always a high road) is to stay in Libra’s cherished center, and basically to mind your own business and hold to your integrity.

Thursday: Cooperative endeavors are favored early in the day, but not so much this afternoon. The Moon starts the day in cooperative Libra, good for negotiations and all one-to-one interactions. You may feel like being alone this afternoon as the Moon moves into privacy-seeking Scorpio midday and forms a disruptive square to molten Pluto. Buried emotional issues can come to the surface requiring private time to work through them.

Friday: Mercury (the mind) is in an uplifting sextile to imaginative Neptune today, favoring artistic, creative, and even poetic mind. The Moon is in Scorpio opposite Jupiter before dawn—you may feel like having an indulgent breakfast. The Moon is sextile Venus, enhancing all relationships by stimulating greater depth of involvement. The Moon does square the Sun this afternoon, creating a resistance to anything superficial and letting you know which conversations you don’t want to partake in.

Saturday: a stellar day in the heavens with the Moon in Scorpio with exclusively harmonious aspects throughout the day. The Moon starts the day with a sextile to Mars moving into a flowing trine with Neptune and a stimulating sextile to Mercury this evening. A good date night with a mixture of magnetic, passionate, and mentally engaging energy.

Sunday: The Moon is in enthusiastic Sagittarius, awakening the urge to get out and adventure a bit. You may have to tend to some pressing responsibility midday during the square to pressure-laden Saturn—otherwise a day to play and explore as you please. Mercury enters free-thinking Aquarius tonight, liberating the mind and giving greater freedom to speak your mind.

May the stars be with you!

Donations: Although these weekly updates are free, if you would like to support the newsletter with a donation, go to my website and click the “Donate” button on the menu. You can donate in increments of $5. You can also donate through Venmo: David-Pond-17 If you would like to send a check, contact us for our mailing address. Thanks for your support!

Consultations: I am available for consultations if you would like to see how your astrology chart can help you connect with your true self, explore your life’s purpose, better understand relationships, find your right vocation, or to align with current astrological influences. Contact us by email, phone, or through the “Services” tab on our website, to set up a session.

Email: Dpond11@gmail.com

Website: Davidpond.com

Phone: 360-918-8411

[protagonistheavy]

I think my opinions overall on AI art fit firmly in the area where I'd piss off everyone simultaneously.

It's become that sort of issue where I know generally what side of the argument I'm on, but while my direct oppositions have arguments that are rather predictable for their stance, it's the people on my own side that I'm constantly hearing the worst arguments/misinformation from. There are unfortunately a lot of people who oppose AI art for pretty much all the worst possible reasons.

I think the anti-AI side of things can benefit a lot from understanding why people would use AI art instead of ~hiring an artist~, and then arguing on that playing field. Because if I see another argument that just boils down to "see??? if you just spend part of a lifetime practicing art and then schedule most of your life around it, you can make art too!!! easy!!!" i'm going to blow up into smithereens. Not everyone is a full-career artist, nor do they intend to be; I know that's hard for a lot of artists to comprehend because their whole life has been about drawing pictures, but other people are busy with other things. Some people do not have the time or energy to add a whole new craft to their capabilities -- even less people want to do that just so they can make an icon for a website they're making, or to create a book cover for the book they're writing, or whatever. If your argument to anyone of these pro-AI people is that they should just start learning to draw, please just shut the fuck up, you've failed to understand the core basic reasoning why people find AI art appealing: extremely quick production, passable quality, and the only person you have to work with is a computer, not a human being that has their own schedule, passions, etc. to consider.

This isn't a pro-AI argument I'm taking either, I'm just sick of seeing these terrible arguments coming from people I should theoretically agree with. So much of this mindset is pure gatekeeping of all visual arts, and from a position that is bound to fail; this technology isn't going to disappear, and there's plenty of uses for AI generation that isn't just wholesale stealing art from people. It's going to be used more and more, especially as industry artists learn how to utilize it in conjunction with their own abilities.

Man seriously, BOTH sides I think have GOT to accept that AI art generation is never going to reach a point where one prompt gets you the perfect picture. To me it seems like its best use is for creating outlines or references, or filling in non-vital indications of details. You still have to be an artist to then take that image and manifest something unique from it. The companies behind AI art generation really want you to believe that it can do that, that you just put in one prompt and out comes a complete picture, but it really doesn't work that way -- it's a boogeyman concept, that one day we're just gonna have computers shitting out all of our visual elements in the world, and no artist will ever dare lift a pen again in such trying times. Professional artists are already adapting to the new tech and learning how to use it as a tool for full-scale projects, rather than just a novelty to spit something out in 20 seconds. It's very much overselling the capabilities of AI art to believe that this is the bad timeline where all artists go extinct and their talents are simply never needed.

Now I do have some fears about AI art and how it will effect artists in the industry, and how some corporations will try to use AI art in the sloppiest ways possible. It will be a turbulent time, but far from the dark age of creativity that some people are expecting.

[tealenko]

The Three Letters (Chapter 8)

Chapter 8: The Path of the Deathless

Here we are, finally!!! XD Wanted to post one more chapter before going back to work (I wasn't expecting to make it in time though ehehehehe)

So, I promised to change the ending of RotTR and here you have it. Without a doubt, this chapter cost me way more to write than any of the others. I really like the end result, I think (I feel proud that I somehow made it work lol)

Hope you like it too

Summary: Lara makes it to the Divine Source just in time to try to stop Ana from making a huge mistake but, not wanting to listen to reason, this one threatens to harm Jacob in order to reach it.

Words: 4464 Rating: Teens and Up Warnings: death and all that stuff (nothing too graphic though, just a light show)

All Chapters -> [link] Read in AO3 -> [link]

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

The bow tenses against her chin in a way that’s completely new to her.

“…”

Ana’s arm rises. 

Her own answers instantly, more a reflex than a chosen action.

“No.” Lara orders, while she pulls from the string even more, feeling the pain as it leaves a mark against her skin.

The bow is almost an extension of her own being at this point in time, but the way she’s holding it right now is a novelty. She doesn’t recognize this strange force, doesn’t know where it comes from and, most importantly, she doesn’t seem to care.

“Step back.” Lara orders.

There’s no pleading nor asking in her words, neither is she attempting to make a deal, instead she takes a step forward, with her eyes focused on her target like never before in her life, repeating her command in an even more demanding tone of voice.

“Step. Back.”

But Ana doesn’t.

There’s only one thing remaining between her and the Divine Source and she isn’t going to stop now that she’s so close to reaching it.

Having this in mind, and trusting the fact that, despite their differences, the closest thing she’s ever had to a daughter won’t have the guts to kill her, she finishes raising her trembling hand and points it to her own target.

“This is the only…”

That’s all she’s able to say before she notices how mistaken she truly is.

The arrow flies so fast that she’s unable to see it, but she quickly feels it as it impacts against her knee.

“Shit!”

Ana falls to the ground, screaming in pain and, before she has the time to realize what has happened, Lara has already started running, to her surprise, not towards her, but in the opposite direction, way too preoccupied by whom the gun was pointing to be even remotely worried about the person holding it.

“Jacob…” Lara almost whispers, losing the strength of her voice as she reaches him, seeing now the true depth of his wounds.

“Yeah…” He replies in a similar tone of voice, doing his best to keep standing. “Had to go through a lot to be able to get to y… To get here.”

Lara’s hands move, without her own permission, to hold his in between them and, as a result, all he can do is dedicate a look of delight to her.

“Glad to see you’ve made it in one piece, though.” He jokes, doing his best to keep standing. “I must be getting too old to keep up with you. ”

She gets lost for a moment, to the point where she isn’t able to see or hear anything else that isn’t Jacob. If she could, she would have noticed by now the sounds coming from outside the vast room, caused by the army of deathless soldiers as they gather all their forces.

But she doesn’t.

His smile pierces her soul in a way it shouldn’t, and at the same time, his pain seems to tear it apart in a hundred million pieces.

It’s fine. He’s fine. Her conscious mind tries to remind her. He’s immortal, afterall.

But her heart has reached a point where it’s no longer able to tell that fact apart and, the moment she sees him suffering, it starts to suffer along with him.

The result of all this inner battle is a sad chuckle that is quickly followed by a couple of rogue tears.

They send a clear message but, to their dismay, before Jacob is able to decode them, the situation starts to crumble around them in record time.

At the same moment that the few forces holding Jacob on his feet abandon his body, Ana is able to stand up and, with Lara doing her best to break his sudden fall to the ground, she’s left with a clear path to the Divine Source.

Without a hint of hesitation, she takes it.

When Lara realizes what’s truly happening Ana’s hands are almost about to reach it.

“No!” She screams, with the hint of pleading that wasn’t there a few moments ago. “It’s not what you think, Ana.”

Her sentence makes her stop for a second, acknowledging the truth behind her words and, with the sound of the army gathered outside the room increasing at a hastened pace, the fear creeps into her heart long enough to make her fall silent. 

Lara, sensing her doubt, doesn’t waver to take the opportunity and attempt to explain to Ana the origin of the source.

“It will kill you.” She states, feeling the worry starting to build in her chest. “It will kill you if you aren’t worthy...” Another tear runs down Lara’s face, caused by a different person this time around. “Please… Do not take that bet.”

Ana stares at the source for a couple seconds and makes final her choice, turning to look at Lara one last time before stepping ahead.

“Please!” She begs despite knowing her words won't be able to stop her.

And they are not.

“I’m dying. This is my only hope.” She screams from the top of her chest, hesitating no more as her hands start to move.

“Ana, no!”

A sensation of horror invades Lara’s body and, after sharing a quick look with Jacob, both to confirm he was okay and to tell him what she is going to do next, she starts to sprint towards her direction, quick enough to cover almost all the distance left between them, but not fast enough to make it in time.

Despite her best effort, Ana takes the source and, just as she is about to reach her, the judgment starts.

It takes less than an instant and, before Lara is able to comprehend what’s happening, the light of the source starts to surround Ana.

Slowly at first, almost with delicacy, but that doesn’t last for long and, in less than a few seconds, the filaments of light transform into strings and start to tangle around her body.

“No!” Ana screams, feeling the light starting to suffocate her, trying her best to release the artifact but unable to do so.

The ivory filaments trap her in an instant and, before her scream vanishes into the air, what is left of her is quickly transformed into a white flash so bright that manages to blind Lara for a few seconds.

When she finally makes it to where Ana was standing, there’s nothing left to save, just the remnant filaments of light that maintain the divine source floating mid air for a few seconds, disobeying every rule of physics, before gravity starts to function with normality once again and the artifact starts to fall.

Against her better judgment, without even stopping to consider the idea, or a hint of self-reflection, she decides to grab it.

Just as they did before, Lara's hands move on their own, and prevent the source from crashing against the ground.

“I…”

For a few moments her mind doesn’t finish comprehending the action that her body has taken without consulting it, and it isn’t until she sees the what’s left of Ana laying on her feet, that she starts to realize the depth of her mistake.

The horror invades her once again, as her eyes stay fixed on the small and glowing bundle of clothes and ashes that she’s seen so many times in the past few days: Ana has been transformed into one more slave to serve the source for all eternity and, unless she finds a solution, she’s going to be the next one.

“Shit...” A tear runs through her face as she attempts in vain to release the source before it consumes her, but the light tangles around her hands with enough strength to prevent it. “Shit.”

Lara stares at it for three seconds. Perhaps the longest three seconds of her entire life.

The first of them is dedicated to fright. 

All her body freezes as her heart twists inside her chest with the reality of her imminent death materializing in front of her eyes.

The second one leaves room for sorrow. 

Despite not weeping a river of emotions, the few tears that travel through her face carry along with them more sadness than an entire lifetime would be able to gather.

“Shit!”

She shakes her head, which doesn’t make them disappear, but it’s enough to let her recover some resemblance of control over her own body and gives way to one last moment of reflection. 

Her last one.

And, this time around, third is indeed the charm, for not even in between the horror, the sorrow and the fright, is her mind able to forget about him.

So in her final moment, all there’s left: is love.

Her body forgets about the light, the pain and everything else, and turns to face him, leaving every worry behind as if it didn't exist.

Jacob is already standing when their eyes meet and, with three seconds more, he is able to close the distance between them like it’s nothing, forgetting too about all his wounds and his own pain in order to reach her as soon as he is able.

And so he does.

There’s no sight of dismay on his face, nor hesitation, for he has no doubt of what’s going to happen next and he does not fear it.

Lara doesn't understand it yet, but the mere presence of Jacob is distracting enough to make her forget the fact that, if she was meant to follow the same path as Ana, she would already be dead by now.

But she isn’t. 

She would see that the color of the light is now bright blue, unlike before.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she just stands, looking at him, extending one of her arms to touch one of his as the light starts to travel through her, not even realizing that she gained back the control of her body and that her hands are no longer glued to the Divine Source.

“Finally…” He whispers, looking at it for a second, before redirecting his glare to meet her eyes again. “Finally.”

“What…?”

There’s confusion in Lara’s face, but it doesn’t last for long, for most times the universe has its ways of letting us know what’s about to happen in the most cruel form available, and this one it’s not an exception.

Before she’s able to say anything else, Jacob’s legs start to fail him, making him collapse immediately to the ground, with her doing her best to stop the crash once again. 

This time around though, his wounds aren’t the one causing the fall and, with one last look into his icy eyes, she finally starts to comprehend the dark reality of what’s really about to happen.

“No...” She whispers, as the horror of their current situation starts to set in her heart. “No.”

“There’s always a price…” Jacob's eyes start to water a little, but his smile doesn’t disappear, instead, it gets even stronger as he traces every detail of her face. “It’s finally my time to pay it.”

She places the source on the ground next to him, and her hands tremble like never before in her life as she extends them to grab his.

“Take it…” She begs him in between tears, much more haunted by this new scenario than by the now forgotten possibility of her sudden death. “Please, take it back.”

“Too late.”

“No!”

“The change has been made.”

Despite knowing she isn’t gonna change his mind, she tries one more time, moving closer enough to him in the process.

“Please!” A half scream half cry escapes her body along with her last plea, for she already knows what’s next. 

She knows he’s right. She knows it’s too late.

The light is no longer coming from the source, It’s coming from Jacob, tangling around her body, hugging her, becoming one with her own flesh.

There’s no rush nor ashes this time around and the glowing filaments, which were able to reduce Ana into a burning bundle of clothes in less than a couple seconds, seem to caress her instead of attack her, melting into her skin with all the care in the world.

There is no pain either.

Or at least, none caused by the light itself for, as Lara comes to terms with the events developing in front of her eyes, the agony of her reality quickly starts to hit her.

“It’s okay.” He tells her, able to read all her emotions on her face. “It’s…”

Lara hugs him in the middle of his sentence, with her whole body acting once again on its own.

“I’m sorry.” She half whispers next to his ear, tightening her arms around him, feeling how her whole world turns into darkness despite being in the presence of so much light. “This… This…”

Her words quickly fail her when she starts to notice his arms losing their strength and, in a final attempt to ask him to do the impossible, she breaks the hug and begs him for the last time.

“Jacob… Please… ” Lara pleads as their eyes find each other “Hold on…”

He stares at her and, to her surprise, laughs a little before giving her the only answer that she’s really been dreading to hear.

“I’ve held on… For too long already.”

Lara closes her eyes in agony for a second, trying with all her heart to process the reality that she now must face.

Jacob, on the other hand, the one who should be crumbling in despair instead of her, is just patiently waiting while he focuses all his efforts on his breathing, smiling from ear to ear, only preoccupied with learning every little detail of her face so he can harbor it in the afterlife.

She feels confused, miserable and angered, all at the same time, not truly believing his reaction but, after a quick moment of realization, she finally understands why he is acting the way he is.

He already knew.

“You wanted me to take it…” She states out loud, which he quickly confirms as he deepens his smile. “You knew I’d be worthy.”

Jacob nods, instead of answering, feeling all his strength leaving his body but, having still so much to say, he musters all that’s left of his will in order to expose, at least, some of the truth that he has worked so much to hide.

“In all my years…” He finally manages to say, with the faintest tone of voice she has ever heard him. “I’ve met few as extraordinary as you.”

That will have to suffice. He adds in his mind before he starts to cough, paying the price for all the effort he invested into casting those few words.

“It’s finally happening.” He laughs while struggling to keep breathing, too preoccupied with easing her mind on these last few moments to focus on the pain that invades him. “My ending.”

“I’m sorry.” Her words tremble as they come out of her mouth, mortified by the sigh of Jacob in this state. “All I wanted was to make a difference.”

The tears come back, but no for long.

She feels hopeless, she feels broken and, above all, she feels lost. Nevertheless, his response comes to her rescue right away.

“You already have.” Jacob preaches more than says, slowly moving her hand to cup her face. ”...you already have.”

Lara’s eyes close as one last tear streams down her face.

This is it. She tells herself before opening them again, taking a deep breath as she does her best to calm down.

The deathless finally make it into the room but, instead of seeking the source like she thought they would, they just start to surround the central platform, leaving plenty of space between them and Lara.

She only has the chance to look at them briefly before the light starts moving, gaining back her attention.

Jacob looks like he’s about to disappear into thin air, and no longer has the strength to keep smiling, but with what’s left of him he gives her a final nod, trying his best to be reassuring.

The soldiers stare, emotionless, witnessing the scene as they wait for the rest of them to make it into the room and, in just a few seconds, they recover Lara’s attention, moving all in sync to kneel before her.

She scours the room briefly before realizing that Ana’s remnants are no longer there.

One more servant to the source. She thinks, looking for her in the kneeling crowd despite knowing way too well that she won’t be able to recognize her.

One more sacrifice.

Jacob’s eyes close at last, and the tears make their comeback as she stares at him, still not truly believing this is really happening.

A cry of despair comes out of her body as she instinctively moves to hug him.

He wanted this… 

She tries to tell herself, in an attempt to avoid falling completely into the darkness.

“He wanted…” Lara looks around as she says this, leaving his body to rest with all the care in the world, contemplating the scene that she’s now starring in. “He… He deserves…”

Her tears keep pouring out of control, to the point where her eyes are starting to sting, and any effort she makes to try to wipe them with the sleeve of her jacket doesn’t seem to have any effect.

“He deserves to rest.” She’s finally able to say, trying to convince herself that this is the best possible outcome. “He deserves an ending.”

Her hands close while trembling and, in an attempt of calming down, she decides to move her eyes away from him and redirect them once again to the deathless ones. Nevertheless, this soon proves to have the opposite effect to the one expected.

They are still kneeling and, the sigh of it, it’s impactful enough to start brewing a new emotion on the bottom of her heart.

It’s almost like they were asking to serve me.

She shakes her head a couple of times.

Serve me…

A sad laugh escapes her body while her fist impacts with anger against the ground.

“Serve Me!?” What began as a simple feeling hidden in the depths of her soul quickly starts to grow, and the fury that sparked so easily in her body a few seconds ago, is now turning into raw unfiltered rage. “Me!”

Lara looks around one more time before hitting the ground once again, now with both of her hands.

“Like I deserve this…” There’s a quick moment of silence, followed by one of enlightenment, that only manages to increase her anger even more. “Like he deserves this!”

Her hands move to wipe her tears one more time, and one more time they keep falling down. The only difference now is that she’s way too mad to even care.

“You… You do not deserve this.” She shakes her head and brings one hand to her heart, closing her eyes in the process. “This… Is not enough.”

Lara moves enough to stare at the source, dreading the moment that she, or better said, her hands, decided to move in order to catch it before it fell to the ground.

She takes a couple of deep breaths and decides to look back at Jacob, watching as the blue light reflects onto him, wondering how many seconds left they have before he’s completely swallowed by the darkness.

The battle between her feelings seems to come to an end, for a few seconds, as one quick thought crosses her mind, managing to bring her some kind of peace.

“You do deserve an ending.” 

She admits, moving her arm to cup his face one last time but, once her hand is half way there, the fire of her anger reactivates without a hint of warning, finally winning control of her mind, her heart and her entire body. 

“But not this one…”

It comes only as a whisper at the beginning, almost as if someone else had said those words instead of her.

“Not this one.”

This time around her voice is clearer and, as the anger melts with the many emotions that she's been trying to hide for so long, Lara loses complete notion of what’s happening aside from the two of them.

“You deserve to live.” She tells him, getting closer to his body despite knowing way too well that he cannot hear her. “You deserve to be free, to be happy…”

All of the deathless stand up at the same time in the middle of her speech, but she doesn’t even notice that they are moving.

“You deserve to grow old… And to experience a life without self-sacrifice, or pain, or sorrow…”

She doesn’t even hear them when they start to walk towards her.

“You deserve so much more than this!”

If she was witnessing her current situation she would realize that she’s only a few moments away from losing him forever. 

But she isn't.

She isn’t paying attention to the army of fallen soldiers, nor to the many lights surrounding them.

“You cannot leave… Not like this.” 

Lara’s eyes turn to look at the source one last time, dedicating once again three long seconds to stare at it. 

Nevertheless, this time around, instead of going through hundreds of feelings, there’s just the one, that keeps growing and growing until, just as all this began, takes control of her body and does what she’s been wanting to do from the moment that she set her hands on it.

And you won’t.

Before her mind has the time to process the possible consequences of what she’s about to do next, Lara grabs the Divine Source and, with all the strength that she’s able to summon, smashes it against the ground, immediately breaking it into countless fragments and pieces.

The impact not only demolishes the source, it also creates a blue energy wave that travels through the entire room, turning all the soldiers into ashes, quickly disappearing into the air without leaving any hint or trace that they were there to begin with.

The light vanishes along with them, leaving an empty room, except for Lara and Jacob, that now it’s only illuminated by the rays of the sun, tinting the whole scenery in an orange tone.

Her eyes scour the room, not truly believing what they’re seeing, but she doesn’t have the time to process it before something else gains her attention.

Jacob moves a little and, after a few seconds, opens her eyes.

He looks confused, but not for too long, quickly understanding the outcome of their evening in record time.

Lara just stares at him doing her best to contain all her feelings inside her chest, which she succeeds, until she finally hears the voice she was convinced she would never have the chance to hear again.

Until she hears his voice.

“What have you…” It’s only a weak whisper at the beginning, but that’s more than enough for her.

Before he’s able to finish his sentence she’s already hugging him, letting the silent tears fall slowly as her arms wrap around his body.

To say Jacob is surprised at the beginning, would be an understatement, but he quickly attributes her feelings and reaction to the near death experience instead of seeing the much simpler reality.

After processing all this, he just sighs and, with a kind smile on his face, returns the hug, allowing himself to tangle his arms around Lara and bringing her a little closer to him.

“What were you thinking?” He asks with the most casual tone he’s able to find, breaking the silence but not the embrace, doing his best to contain the pain hidden behind those words.

“I wasn’t.” Lara replies without hesitation, taking him a little by surprise. “ I…”

Lara laughs at her own thoughts and, after a moment of reflection, she pulls backwards a little, breaking the hug and sitting next to him, moving her eyes to look through the huge breach of the wall while letting the sun bathe her with its rays.

“I didn’t want you to go.” She finally admits, before shaking her head a few times. “Not like this” 

She decides to turn a little to look at him.

He is already looking at her.

The warm light coming through the breach tints her features, turning even brighter as she dedicates a faint smile to him, taking a moment to breathe before she resumes her speech.

“A millennia of pain and death and sorrow. Of fighting, of hiding. Lifetime after lifetime… The wars, the invasions. You’ve been suffering since the moment you set your hands on that thing, and I…” Her words get stuck on her throat, but she tries to continue nonetheless. “I just couldn’t… I couldn’t… ”

Understanding what she’s attempting to say, or most of it, Jacob moves his hand slowly and reaches for hers, mirroring her previous smile as he looks into her eyes.

“You could’ve died, Lara.” He reproaches her, but in the sweetest tone she’s ever heard in her entire life, too mesmerized by the sight of her to be able to be mad about her actions.

“You too.” She answers, no hesitation once again, way too happy about the outcome of this whole situation to worry about filtering her words.

The only thing he can do is smile, unable to contradict the bare logic of her response and knowing that, in her place, he would’ve taken the exact same path.

Lara tightens the grip of his hand and returns his smile, giggling a bit in disbelief, before turning to look to the horizon once again. Jacob’s eyes follow hers after a few seconds, taking his time to scour the way too familiar view of the valley through the big breach of the northern wall.

There’s nothing left to say after that, but they silently decide not to leave.

After everything experienced in such a short amount of time, the two of them need to process all that’s happened, to calm down and, above all, they both need to rest. 

So, instead of joining the forces of the remnant right away, they remain there.

They stay in the center of the room for what seems like an eternity. No words needed, not anymore.

They just sit and wait, one next to the other, looking at the horizon as all their feelings fade.  There’s no more pain, nor fright, nor sorrow. 

There’s nothing else to be said.

So, instead, they just wait there, in complete silence, with her fingers still interlaced with his, forgetting about everything and everyone aside from them. Needing nothing else than the touch of each other's hands to know that, as long as they stay like this, together, everything will be okay.

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

Sometimes I love the ending, sometimes I'm not convinced XDDD Anyways, it's done. So there you have it.

I doubt you care, but future me usually has a blast when she reads these things, so know that I rearranged all the remaining chapters and added one more to the planning just so I can write fluff in the next one (it was supposed to be the angsties yet and I really don't have the heart... I suffered enough writing the last three!!! I deserve fluff!!! XDDDDD *slowly descends into madness*)

So yeah, next one is going to be fluff + sexual tension yaaaaaaay~~~That way I'll have a break before we enter the complicated plotline of: the consequences of SotTR aka "wtf were you thinking to volunteer yourself as a freaking human sacrifice!?" XDDDDDDDDDDDD

[realcleverscience]

hey @ralfmaximus

Thanks for the thoughtful response. My view is a bit different. Mostly, I don't share your certainty that general AI systems will never be good or reliable. For instance, hallucination rates have been falling dramatically each year. In 2022, most AI systems had a hallucination rate of around 30%. In 2023, 15%; in 2024, 8%, and this year it's already below 1%. It may be true that hallucinations can never be 100% removed, but I think we may well be able to reach levels comparable to humans and possibly better. Similarly, just as hallucinations have fallen, other metrics have been steadily improving as well. For instance, GPT3 had an estimated iq of around 85; 3 years later, the GPT-O series had an iq around 140. This is very significant and rapid progress. I'm not at all convinced that this progress is just going to hit a wall and stop. "AI companies keep pushing larger LLM data sets, but that just seems to make them worse rather than better." This is definitely an issue, however, this seems to overlook that larger systems initially did better than smaller systems, which is why everyone thought, 'ok cool, then let's push for even larger systems'. So there's a good reason the research went in this direction. Further, I'm not convinced that scaling to larger systems is dead. It may just require some clever innovations to make use of it (or, simpler still, more refined training data instead of just plopping everything into it). Alternatively, many people are imagining agi systems built as connected communities of smaller, dedicated AIs. E.g. You ask your AGI system a question, but instead of it being expected to know and be good at everything, what it does is find the narrow AI systems to answer the question. Kinda like having a room with an AI for each specialty, instead of one AI that's expected to do everything. We already seem to agree that narrow AI systems can work quite well. But more fundamentally, I am again not convinced that we've seen the end of AI progress, however it is achieved.

"The current hype around AI is a grift, a way for investors to make a pile of money before the bubble pops."

I don't quite agree with this either. In my view, the amount of progress which has been made, the usefulness AI has already shown, and the rapid pace of improvement all suggest that this is not just a hype scam. More importantly, AIs are already being used by huge numbers of people in a range of industries; that is, the demand already exists, whereas the 3d tv was a novelty that people hoped would have demand, but didn't. Further, even when bubbles appear that doesn't mean the tech they represent are useless. For instance, the 2000's internet had a big bubble that popped, but clearly the internet is not a grift. We're on tumblr, after all. I'm sure most of us use things like google or amazon or uber or a hundred other internet based technologies. (Additionally, while some people lost a lot of money in the dot-com bust, a lot of people got super rich if they managed to invest in the *right* companies.) So yeah, there are certainly individual AI companies which are overhyped without much to offer, and that might create an investment bubble which pops, but it's also bc the underlying technology is growing rapidly, and is expected to continue growing rapidly, so lots of investment is happening and not all those bets will pan out. But that doesn't mean *none* of the bets will pan out. Some AI tech companies could be the next tech giants society is practically built upon, comparable to google today. Lastly, I want to note that your post suggests that you're only against AI in practice, not principle. That is, your concern is that AI just won't be useful. But what if it is? Like, what if in 2026 new systems come out which bring hallucinations down to 0.01%? Or what if they find a way to continue scaling bigger with improved results - or even the opposite, scaling down for improved results (e.g. through distillation - this was one of the tricks DeepSeek used)? Cause, yeah, I understand not using AI for something if the results just aren't good enough for what you need - but what if they are? You seem to be suggesting that while you oppose using AI in practice, it's bc you believe AGI systems will always suck in principle. Again, I don't share that certainty. The history of science, and particularly the history of AI, is filled with stories of assumptions people have had about what can't happen - until it does.

p.s. The OP complained that AI isn't smart. It's just auto-complete. For one, I don't think this is entirely accurate, but for another: as you said, narrow AI systems are already used for science and industry and work really well. Those systems often work on the same fundamental tech. So if we agree that AI systems can be smart and useful in narrow applications, I don't understand why one would believe that general AI systems can't work in principle. The AIs coming up with cures for diseases are *also* "Big Autocomplete ... crunching numbers it's not understanding things". And yet it works, and does "cognitive labor".

tl;dr: AIs aren't perfect, but the data shows rapid progress and suggests this trend will continue.

i hate seeing people drink the openai/chatgpt koolaid 😭😭😭 genuinely feels like watching someone get seduced by scientology or qanon or something. like girl help it's not intelligent it's Big Autocomplete it's crunching numbers it's not understanding things i fuckign promise you. like ohhh my god the marketing hype fuckign GOT you

[yhrkcnrk]

Tainted Hearts

Chapter 26: Preparing for the Ball

The announcement of the King and Queen Ball spread like wildfire through the school. The students buzzed with excitement, chattering in hallways and classrooms, imagining the event Mari had proposed. The grand ball theme had captured everyone’s imagination, and it quickly became the center of attention.

For days, the talk of who got chosen as kings, queens, princes, and princesses dominated lunchtime conversations, and even teachers were caught discussing it amongst themselves. The entire school was electrified with a sense of novelty. It wasn’t every day that a prestigious event like this took place, let alone organized by the school's principal herself.

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

Yoshiko sat at her desk, going over some paperwork, but her mind kept wandering back to the upcoming event. She had drawn the role of a prince during the raffle, something that had surprised her at first. For a fleeting moment, she had been excited—imagining dancing with Riko, who was supposed to be a princess. But the realization that teachers and students couldn’t dance together had quickly dampened her spirits.

She sighed, staring at her desk, wondering what Riko’s reaction would be when she heard. They hadn't had a chance to talk about the event yet, but Yoshiko was certain it would be awkward. Still, she found herself looking forward to the event in a strange way.

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

Meanwhile, Riko walked through the bustling hallways of the school, unsure of how to feel about the upcoming ball. She had been chosen as a princess, and while Chika and You had immediately begun talking about dress shopping and how much fun it would be, Riko hesitated.

The idea of attending a ball was so far from her comfort zone. Sure, Chika and You had been trying to get her excited, but every time she imagined herself in a dress, standing in front of so many people, she wanted to run in the opposite direction. The thought of possibly dancing in front of everyone, paired with someone random from another class, made her even more nervous.

She tried to focus on other things, like her schoolwork, but it was hard when the entire school seemed to be caught up in the frenzy.

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

Chika, You, and Riko stood in front of a large boutique downtown. The windows were filled with elegant dresses, sparkling under the store's lights, and mannequins adorned in stunning outfits for the upcoming ball.

Chika practically bounced with excitement as she turned to Riko and You. “Come on, Riko-chan! Let’s go find you the perfect dress!”

Riko hesitated, but You gently nudged her. “It’ll be fun! Don’t worry, we’ll find something that looks great on you.”

Reluctantly, Riko followed them inside, where they were immediately greeted by rows of dresses in every style and color. The store bustled with other students, all eager to find their ball attire.

While Chika and You darted off to different racks, pulling dresses and admiring them, Riko lingered near the back, looking at the simpler options. She didn’t want to stand out too much.

As she ran her fingers over the fabric of a soft pink dress, she heard a voice behind her. “That one would look beautiful on you.”

Riko jumped slightly, turning to find Yoshiko standing there, a small smile on her face. “Tsushima-sensei!”

Yoshiko raised an eyebrow, amused by Riko’s startled reaction. “Looking for your dress, I see.”

Riko blushed, quickly looking away. “Yeah… I guess I have to find something.”

Yoshiko tilted her head, looking over the dresses Riko had been considering. “You don’t seem too excited about this. Something wrong?”

Riko sighed softly, avoiding Yoshiko’s gaze. “It’s just… I don’t really know if I want to go. The whole thing feels overwhelming.”

Yoshiko nodded, understanding. “It’s a lot, I get it. But… sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone can be good. Besides, you’ll have your friends with you. And you’ll look great. Trust me.”

Riko smiled a little, feeling comforted by Yoshiko’s words. “Thanks… I’ll try.”

Before Yoshiko could respond, Chika appeared, holding up a bright blue dress. “Riko-chan, you have to try this one! It’ll look amazing on you!”

Riko blinked, looking at the dress. “It’s so… bright…”

Chika grinned. “Exactly!”

You joined them, carrying another dress, this one a softer pastel green. “Or maybe this one? It’s more subtle.”

Yoshiko chuckled. “Looks like you’re in good hands.”

With a small wave, Yoshiko slipped away, leaving Riko to be swept up by her friends.

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

Back at school, the preparations for the ball were in full swing. Students were practicing dance moves, discussing their outfits, and decorating the gymnasium, which would serve as the venue for the event.

Riko watched from a distance as her classmates buzzed with excitement. Even though she was still nervous, she couldn’t deny the growing anticipation in the air. Maybe, just maybe, the event wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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

In the teachers’ lounge, Yoshiko sat with Kanan and Dia, who were both discussing their roles in the ball.

“I still can’t believe Mari talked us into this,” Kanan said, laughing as she adjusted some papers on the table. “But it’s going to be fun.”

Dia, ever the serious one, shook her head. “I’m just worried about the logistics. Do we even have enough staff to manage such a big event?”

Yoshiko smiled slightly, her mind drifting back to her conversation with Riko. She could still picture the way Riko had looked at her in the store, so hesitant and unsure, yet there was something endearing about her vulnerability.

She wondered what the night of the ball would be like. Would they be able to talk? Dance together, even for a moment? Or would the weight of their roles—the boundaries between teacher and student—be too much to ignore?

As she listened to her colleagues talk, Yoshiko couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. The ball was going to be something special. Of that, she was certain.

[maximumphilosopheranchor]

Russia arrived first at the politics of eternity. Kleptocracy made the political virtues of succession, integration, and novelty impossible, and so political fiction had to make them unthinkable. Ivan Ilyin’s ideas gave form to the politics of eternity. A Russian nation bathed in the untruth of its own innocence could learn total self-love. Vladislav Surkov showed how eternity could animate modern media. While working for Putin, he wrote and published a novel, Almost Zero (2009), that was a kind of political confession. In the story, the only truth was our need for lies, the only freedom our acceptance of this verdict. In a story within the larger plot, the hero was troubled by a flatmate who only slept. An expert issued a report: “We will all be gone,” the expert confided, “as soon as he opens his eyes. Society’s duty, and yours in particular, is to continue his dream.” The perpetuation of the dream state was Surkov’s job description. If the only truth was the absence of truth, the liars were honorable servants of Russia. To end factuality is to begin eternity. If citizens doubt everything, they cannot see alternative models beyond Russia’s borders, cannot carry out sensible discussions about reform, and cannot trust one another enough to organize for political change. A plausible future requires a factual present. Following Ilyin, Surkov spoke of the “contemplation of the whole” which enabled a vision of “geopolitical reality”: that foreigners tried to draw Russians away from their native innocence with their regular attacks. Russians were to be loved for their ignorance; loving them meant perfecting that ignorance. The future held only more ignorance about the more distant future. As he wrote in Almost Zero: “Knowledge only gives knowledge, but uncertainty gives hope.” Like Ilyin before him, Surkov treated Christianity as a gateway to his own superior creation. Surkov’s God was a reclusive colleague with limitations, a fellow demiurge to be bucked up with a few manly slaps. As Ilyin had done, Surkov invoked familiar biblical verses in order to invert their meanings. In his novel, he has a nun refer to First Corinthians 13:13: “Uncertainty gives hope. Faith. Love.” If citizens can be kept uncertain by the regular manufacture of crisis, their emotions can be managed and directed. This is the opposite of the plain meaning of the biblical passage Surkov was citing: hope, faith, and love are the trinity of virtues that articulate themselves as we learn to see the world as it is. Just before this passage is the famous one about maturity as seeing from the vantage of another: “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” The first thing we learn when we see from the perspective of another is that we are not innocent. Surkov meant to keep the glass dark.

Timothy Snyder, The Road To Unfreedom: Russia, Europe, America

[billconrad]

Rabinow’s Laws

    I downloaded Sidewinder-Creative Missile Development at China Lake by Ron Westrum two years ago. It is about product development, technology, history, and work politics. The book was a fantastic read, and it had an additional gem.

    Ron listed three laws (advice) by the famous inventor Jacob Rabinow. One rule was, “If the boss is a dope, everyone under him is (or soon will be) a dope.” I wanted to know more about Jacob and learned he wrote Inventing for Fun and Profit. So, I downloaded that book.

    Jacob was an electrical engineer for the National Institute of Standards and Technology, the United States Post Office, and a company he started. His book described his life, work, inventions, and marketing. His approach impressed me, and I will keep the book as a reference.

    Yet, there was a problem. Jacob’s book only had two more laws, but he described writing 25. Bummer! Finding the rest became a quest worthy of song and drink, leading me to contact Keith Martin, Supervisory Librarian at the National Institute of Standards and Technology. He did an extensive search and sent me a copy of the laws. Way to go, Keith!

    I thought it would be fun to share the list, but there was a minor problem. Law # 21 had a sexist example. I omitted the example but kept the law.

1)    Everything falls with the same velocity for the first six inches.

2)    Everything is equally difficult. (Designing a new paper clip or a guided missile).

3)    By spending ten times as much, you can cut the time in half, once.

4)    Everyone knows that I should have built the second model first.

5)    Everyone want’s improvement s without any changes. (Fix it, but don’t change anything.)

6)    The ultimate selling price of an item, in large scale production, is twice the cost of its raw materials.

7)    As an art develops, the price range always increases in both directions.

8)    Things that are done illegally are done efficiently.

9)    The opposition to a new idea is directly proportional to its novelty.

10)    If you want to be different, you better be good. If you want to make a different product, it better be very good.

11)    There are a few correct ways of doing anything, there is an infinite number of wrong ways.

12)    If the boss is a dope, everyone under him is (or soon will be) a dope.

13)    In judging a manager, the opinion of his or her subordinates is more important than the opinion of his or her superiors.

14)    When you have enough money to tell the boss to shove it, you never have to do it.

15)    The optimum size of an organization is 35 people.

16)    The most efficient conferences are held in corridors. 

17)    The highest quality of talent that you can find is that which you can get for nothing.

18)    To promote inventions (or any art form), just love inventions (or the art form).

19)    An idling professional in your employ loses money 20 times faster than he earns it.

20)    When a purchaser, who doesn’t know the difference between good technology and garbage, orders “good technology,” he will always get garbage. 

21)    You can tell a brilliant person that he is an idiot.

22)    If you want a 50-50 deal, offer the other party 60 and ask for 40.

23)    If you know how the college kids think today, you know how the country will be tomorrow.

24)    If you talk a lot, you will say more stupid things than clever things.

25)    An invention is often funny because it is like the punch-line of a joke - completely logical and completely unexpected.

26)    If I have to be bored, I’d rather be bored at home.

27)    A good book is one that states what I have always believed.

    I thought there were 25 laws. I guess Jacob added two more. Analyzing the above, rules 4, 26, 27 are first person, rules 3, 10, 14, 17, 19, 23, 24 are second person. Rules 12, 19, 20, 21 are masculine, while rule 13 has both genders. Jacob needed a little editing to remain consistent, but Grammarly and ProWritingAid did not complain too much.

    These rules provided great insight, and I refer to them when evaluating a project or needing advice. I was glad to find them all and hope you enjoyed reading them.

    You’re the best -Bill

    January 24, 2024

    Hey book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

    Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

    Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

    Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

    Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

    These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

[lesser-mook]

Anime & Art #11: The creator’s tastes shouldn’t ruin your fondness of a ...

They're outraged for the wrong reasons. Content in general is a proxy for one's experiences, and issues if the creator lacks either restraint or feels it's necessary to convey a certain thematic tone, sometimes that makes good stories, depends on execution. Ego vs necessity.

So even if the subtext is lost on us, the context and overtone is still there. On principle, I can get why some would be creeped out & unplug,  IF that's their reason.

That's where Adulting or principle (keyword: principle) kicks in, some people don't want to support or consume that content on principle when it comes from a scumbag, some people have conviction, some people don't and just consume product.  And some people pretend to be principled because it's a good "take", as ppl call having a stance nowadays. The reason I say "outraged for the wrong reasons", is  some are not pissed because they genuinely feel compromised by reading some slimeball's softcore projection, because if they did they wouldn't have watched yet another loli-simulator in the first place, because really, where do these stories even go. #1 #2 The reason they're cramping now is (obviously) because they read the room they're standing in, so if the author they projected onto is a loli-con scumbag, that means "I'M A LOLI-CON SCUMBAG?!!" This is what some of em feel & think. The reason for that, is they project onto the artist because they want to by proxy claim- possession of the content and para-socially latch onto WHAT they think the artist is in plain sight, and they adopt the persona in a figurative sense, idealized effigy.

*This is ultimately why fandoms are  so passionate, and resemble cults. Projection.*

The cult members do one of three things, they project onto the art, artist, or both. If the author passes your criteria of acceptable, you conflate the two as the same.Pursue them para-socially as a means to connect further with the artwork, Horikoshi's fanbase does a similar thing, or any popular creator frfr.

(for example. Fetish artist continues to be a scumbag & draw garbage = their cult members continue to support. / If the Fetish artist got their fucking life together, and drew other stuff besides the same shit, cleaned up their conduct, evolved as a human being. The cult members will dissipate, rebel and go elsewhere. Because their idol taking accountability and self-improving makes them feel self-conscious, lacking, self-aware & they don't want to be.)

This is the opposite, author is corrupt, so people feel compromised. Regardless of the work.

Fandoms feel possessive of what they flock around precisely because  they project onto to the craft, and creator. Yes, separate art and artist, to a degree, but there's a reason why both words share the same key word or meaning: (Art/ARTist--Creation/CREATor) . They're not as separate as you'd think, no more than a cup of water to the stream or cloud it came from, because the story you're digesting is a piece of someone's mind. See if the artist is clean & the story is decent, then the art and artist are one,, people subconsciously  naturally link the two by positive association. (Example: Stan Lee and Spider-Man) But you see, if they're slimey? THEN separate the two! A lot of people fall into this fallacy, not accusing anyone here,  but ppl gotta be consistent about this and not just say that when it's convenient. However, again, depending on what it is, sometimes even projecting one's issues can work in a story, depends on execution. (Example: the TRUE context behind Giygas and Shigesato Itoi's childhood trauma)

Now, If the show itself is romanticizing little girls and the point isn't a direction along the lines of Kid Cosmic, Kids next door,  or Telgemeier's The Baby Sitter's club, where it's handled with care but instead to idealize, and polish the fact that they're cute girls as a novelty? obvious as to what you're dealing with. 

 Like Snob said, doesn't mean they're all pedo's, some people just make that shit cause that's the industry, industry geared toward pedo-coded pandering but the workers aren't all pedo's, just drones chasing the bag. 

 *Point being: This is a situation (again) where the audience is tone-deaf on purpose, pretend surprised because they'll get likes for being outraged over something everybody knows already.*

[enneagram-reblogs]

Countertype Series: Type Six.

From NineTypesCo by Steph Barron Hall.

Meet Tom! In this interview, he shares what it's like to be a Sexual Six.

Defining the Sexual Six Subtype:

Sexual (SX) Sixes are the "counterphobic" Sixes who move toward fear. They confront life with intensity and boldness as if they can scare off their fear by being bigger and bolder. They often relate more with feelings of strength and action rather than doubt or uncertainty (though they feel those, too). Like all Sixes, SX Sixes desire security and support, but they also tend to have a strong desire t move against others, shake things up, or pursue what fees exciting rather than what feels safe. SX Sixes crave connection with others and enthusiasm in their daily life.

Did you ever mistype?

"When I first encountered the Enneagram about 3 years ago, I typed as a 6w7. I was in the process of leaving a fundamentalist faith community that I had been a part of my whole life. It was a time when I felt extremely unsure of myself and sought security from others. I connected deeply with the 6's basic fear of being without support and guidance.

"However, as I grew in self-confidence and began learning how to find security within myself, I discovered an insatiable desire for novelty: new people, new cities, new experiences, etc. As I nurtured this desire, I wondered if I may actually be a 7w6. But, my desire fore security and support was always stronger than the 7's fear of being deprived.

"When I learned about the subtypes—thanks to the @ninetypesco Instagram account—I felt like I finally saw the fuller picture of my Enneagram type. In realizing that my dominant instinctual variant is sexual, I felt more sure than ever of my 6w7 type."

How would you describe the SX6 subtype? What is it like for you to move through life as a Sexual 6?

"I think of my sexual subtype as 'leaving no stone unturned.' I want to soak up as much information as I can, see as many places possible, and meet all different kinds of people. I think this explains my friendliness and desire for social connectedness.

"I sometimes wonder if I dive into social connections too quickly, then pull away suddenly when the novelty wears off. I sometimes worry that this may have a negative impact on those who are in my orbit."

What is the biggest challenge you face in your life related to your subtype?

"My attraction to novelty, excitement, and stimulation can sometimes work in direct opposition to my basic fear of being without support. In chasing that excitement, I have moved cities and jobs more times than most people my age. This satisfies the adrenaline rush that I seek in the moment, but such constant change makes it difficult to deepen connections and form a stable community, which is ultimately what brings me a sense of security.

"I have learned this lesson over the past few years, and I try to create a better balance between deepening existing relationships and the novelty of new experiences."

What do you think is the biggest difference between yourself and other Type Sixes?

"I think I am more pleasure-seeking than 6s with other dominant instinctual variants. I still experience the stereotypical anxious 6 thought patterns, but I feel that I tend to act out in response to them instead of shutting down or closing in on myself.

"To some folks, this may come across as confidence or assertiveness. I think I am confident and assertive, but these traits sometimes come from a place of pushing back against authority out of a fearful response."