#from Samuel Adams

[artcalledgames]

Have You! Have you ever had a Lemon Meringue Pie Drink on a long Summer day? Limited for a time Samual Adams’s Summer Ale Lemon Meringue in mouth Drink Responsibly for taste One bottle add bottle water per hour That taste will still be there Drink irresponsibly All taste goes to waste Now your just drinking The taste was the beginning Not to be drunk Have you Drank today Decipher this code before 2050

It will leave the fridge faster than food allowing the refillable refrigerator that extra space, I’m only speaking, for my six pack bought! This is not apart of code, sorry but you still have until 25.5 approximate years to solve! :( or :) you still have time.

“As I burp, it’s just like you’ve eaten lemon.”

Stated a drinker

[atempause-art]

I was thinking first part of my writing is done after native english speaker looked over it and gave me edits and I could maybe now start posting the early chapters

my brain: how about you give it illustrations me: shit ur right

[themosthatedbeingg]

🌊 - Deep Water

He’s not to scared of deep water once he learned how to swim ( after Adam threw him in a lake in Eden and he had to learn how to swim or drown/be stuck under water ) he just prefers to put himself in it then someone throw him in it .

[bingqiv]

not me having the perfect dream where i a) have a husband and b) we’re decorating our little farmhouse together while taking down a local crime syndicate

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Proud to be a blockhead

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/21/blockheads-r-us/#vocational-awe

This is my last Pluralistic post of the year, and rather than round up my most successful posts of the year, I figured I'd write a little about why it's impossible for me to do that, and why that is by design, and what that says about the arts, monopolies, and creative labor markets.

I started Pluralistic nearly five years ago, and from the outset, I was adamant that I wouldn't measure my success through quantitative measures. The canonical version of Pluralistic – the one that lives at pluralistic.net – has no metrics, no analytics, no logs, and no tracking. I don't know who visits the site. I don't know how many people visit the site. I don't know which posts are most popular, and which ones are the least popular. I can't know any of that.

The other versions of Pluralistic are less ascetic, but only because there's no way for me to turn off some metrics on those channels. The Mailman service that delivers the (tracker-free) email version of Pluralistic necessarily has a system for telling me how many subscribers I have, but I have never looked at that number, and have no intention of doing so. I have turned off notifications when someone signs up for the list, or resigns from it.

The commercial, surveillance-heavy channels for Pluralistic – Tumblr, Twitter – have a lot of metrics, but again, I don't consult them. Medium and Mastodon have some metrics, and again, I just pretend they don't exist.

What do I pay attention to? The qualitative impacts of my writing. Comments. Replies. Emails. Other bloggers who discuss it, or discussions on Metafilter, Slashdot, Reddit and Hacker News. That stuff matters to me a lot because I write for two reasons, which are, in order: to work out my own thinking, and; to influence other peoples' thinking.

Writing is a cognitive prosthesis for me. Working things out on the page helps me work things out in my life. And, of course, working things out on the page helps me work more things out on the page. Writing begets writing:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

Honestly, that is sufficient. Not in the sense that writing, without being read, would make me happy or fulfilled. Being read and being part of a community and a conversation matters a lot to me. But the very act of writing is so important to me that even if no one read me, I would still write.

This is a thing that writers aren't supposed to admit. As I wrote on this blog's fourth anniversary, the most laughably false statement about writing ever uttered is Samuel Johnson's notorious "No man but a blockhead ever wrote but for money":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/20/fore/#synthesis

Making art is not an "economically rational" activity. Neither is attempting to persuade other people to your point of view. These activities are not merely intrinsically satisfying, they are also necessary, at least for many of us. The long, stupid fight about copyright that started in the Napster era has rarely acknowledged this, nor has it grappled with the implications of it. On the one hand, you have copyright maximalists who say totally absurd things like, "If you don't pay for art, no one will make art, and art will disappear." This is one of those radioactively false statements whose falsity is so glaring that it can be seen from orbit.

But on the other hand, you know who knows this fact very well? The corporations that pay creative workers. Movie studios, record labels, publishers, games studios: they all know that they are in possession of a workforce that has to make art, and will continue to do so, paycheck or not, until someone pokes their eyes out or breaks their fingers. People make art because it matters to them, and this trait makes workers terribly exploitable. As Fobazi Ettarh writes in her seminal paper on "vocational awe," workers who care about their jobs are at a huge disadvantage in labor markets. Teachers, librarians, nurses, and yes, artists, are all motivated by a sense of mission that often trumps their own self-interest and well-being and their bosses know it:

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

One of the most important ideas in David Graeber's magisterial book Bullshit Jobs is that the ground state of labor is to do a job that you are proud of and that matters to you, but late-stage capitalist alienation has gotten so grotesque that some people will actually sneer at the idea that, say, teachers should be well compensated: "Why should you get a living wage – isn't the satisfaction of helping children payment enough?"

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/06/20/david-graebers-bullshit-jobs-why-does-the-economy-sustain-jobs-that-no-one-values/

These are the most salient facts of the copyright fight: creativity is a non-economic activity, and this makes creative workers extremely vulnerable to exploitation. People make art because they have to. As Marx was finishing Kapital, he was often stuck working from home, having pawned his trousers so he could keep writing. The fact that artists don't respond rationally to economic incentives doesn't mean they should starve to death. Art – like nursing, teaching and librarianship – is necessary for human thriving.

No, the implication of the economic irrationality of vocational awe is this: the only tool that can secure economic justice for workers who truly can't help but do their jobs is solidarity. Creative workers need to be in solidarity with one another, and with our audiences – and, often, with the other workers at the corporations who bring our work to market. We are all class allies locked in struggle with the owners of both the entertainment companies and the technology companies that sit between us and our audiences (this is the thesis of Rebecca Giblin's and my 2022 book Chokepoint Capitalism):

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

The idea of artistic solidarity is an old and important one. Victor Hugo, creator of the first copyright treaty – the Berne Convention – wrote movingly about how the point of securing rights for creators wasn't to allow their biological children to exploit their work after their death, but rather, to ensure that the creative successors of artists could build on their forebears' accomplishments. Hugo – like any other artist who has a shred of honesty and has thought about the subject for more than ten seconds – knew that he was part of a creative community and tradition, one composed of readers and writers and critics and publishing workers, and that this was a community and a tradition worth fighting for and protecting.

One of the most important and memorable interviews Rebecca and I did for our book was with Liz Pelly, one of the sharpest critics of Spotify (our chapter about how Spotify steals from musicians is the only part of the audiobook available on Spotify itself – a "Spotify Exclusive"!):

https://open.spotify.com/show/7oLW9ANweI01CVbZUyH4Xg

Pelly has just published a major, important new book about Spotify's ripoffs, called Mood Machine:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Mood-Machine/Liz-Pelly/9781668083505

A long article in Harper's unpacks one of the core mechanics at the heart of Spotify's systematic theft from creative workers: the use of "ghost artists," whose generic music is cheaper than real music, which is why Spotify crams it into their playlists:

https://harpers.org/archive/2025/01/the-ghosts-in-the-machine-liz-pelly-spotify-musicians/

The subject of Ghost Artists has long been shrouded in mystery and ardent – but highly selective – denials from Spotify itself. In her article – which features leaked internal chats from Spotify – Pelly gets to the heart of the matter. Ghost artists are musicians who are recruited by shadowy companies that offer flat fees for composing and performing inoffensive muzak that can fade into the background. This is wholesaled to Spotify, which crams it into wildly popular playlists of music that people put on while they're doing something else ("Deep Focus," "100% Lounge," "Bossa Nova Dinner," "Cocktail Jazz," "Deep Sleep," "Morning Stretch") and might therefore settle for an inferior product.

Spotify calls this "Perfect Fit Music" and it's the pink slime of music, an extruded, musiclike content that plugs a music-shaped hole in your life, without performing the communicative and aesthetic job that real music exists for.

After many dead-end leads with people involved in the musical pink slime industry, Pelly finally locates a musician who's willing to speak anonymously about his work (he asks for anonymity because he relies on the pittances he receives for making pink slime to survive). This jazz musician knows very little about where the music he's commissioned to produce ends up, which is by design. The musical pink slime industry, like all sleaze industries, is shrouded in the secrecy sought by bosses who know that they're running a racket they should be ashamed of.

The anonymous musician composes a stack of compositions on his couch, then goes into a studio for a series of one-take recordings. There's usually a rep from the PFC pink slime industry there, and the rep's feedback is always "play simpler." As the anonymous musician explains:

That’s definitely the thing: nothing that could be even remotely challenging or offensive, really. The goal, for sure, is to be as milquetoast as possible.

This source calls the arrangement "shameful." Another musician Pelly spoke to said "it felt unethical, like some kind of money-laundering scheme." The PFC companies say that these composers and performers are just making music, the way anyone might, and releasing it under pseudonyms in a way that "has been popular across mediums for decades." But Pelly's interview subjects told her that they don't consider their work to be art:

It feels like someone is giving you a prompt or a question, and you’re just answering it, whether it’s actually your conviction or not. Nobody I know would ever go into the studio and record music this way.

Artists who are recruited to make new pink slime are given reference links to existing pink slime and ordered to replicate it as closely as possible. The tracks produced this way that do the best are then fed to the next group of musicians to replicate, and so on. It's the musical equivalent of feeding slaughterhouse sweepings to the next generation of livestock, a version of the gag from Catch 22 where a patient in a body-cast has a catheter bag and an IV drip, and once a day a nurse comes and swaps them around.

Pelly reminds us that Spotify was supposed to be an answer to the painful question of the Napster era: how do we pay musicians for their labor? Spotify was sold as a way to bypass the "gatekeepers": the big three labels who own 70% of all recorded music, whose financial maltreatment of artists was seen as moral justification for file sharing ("Why buy the CD if the musician won't see any of the money from it?").

But the way that Spotify secured rights to all the popular music in the world was by handing over big equity stakes in its business to the Big Three labels, and giving them wildly preferential terms that made it impossible for independent musicians and labels to earn more than homeopathic fractions of a penny for each stream, even as Spotify became the one essential conduit for reaching an audience:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/03/16/wage-theft/#excessive-buyer-power

It turns out that getting fans to pay for music has no necessary connection to getting musicians paid. Vocational awe means that the fact that someone has induced a musician to make music doesn't mean that the musician is getting a fair share of what you pay for music. The same goes for every kind of art, and every field where vocational awe plays a role, from nursing to librarianship.

Chokepoint Capitalism tries very hard to grapple with this conundrum; the second half of the book is a series of detailed, shovel-ready policy prescriptions for labor, contract, and copyright reforms that will immediately and profoundly shift the share of income generated by creative labor from bosses to workers.

Which brings me back to this little publishing enterprise of mine, and the fact that I do it for free, and not only that, give it away under a Creative Commons Attribution license that allows you to share and republish it, for money, if you choose:

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

I am lucky enough that I make a good living from my writing, but I'm also honest enough with myself to know just how much luck was involved with that fact, and insecure enough to live in a state of constant near-terror about what happens when my luck runs out. I came up in science fiction, and I vividly remember the writers I admired whose careers popped like soap-bubbles when Reagan deregulated the retail sector, precipitating a collapse in the grocery stores and pharmacies where "midlist" mass-market paperbacks were sold by the millions across the country:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/04/self-publishing/

These writers – the ones who are still alive – are living proof of the fact that you have to break our fingers to get us to stop writing. Some of them haven't had a mainstream publisher in decades, but they're still writing, and self-publishing, or publishing with small presses, and often they're doing the best work of their careers, and almost no one is seeing it, and they're still doing it.

Because we aren't engaged in economically rational activity. We're doing something essential – essential to us, first and foremost, and essential to the audiences and peers our work reaches and changes and challenges.

Pluralistic is, in part, a way for me too face the fear I wake up with every day, that some day, my luck will run out, as it has for nearly all the writers I've ever admired, and to reassure myself that the writing will go on doing what I need it to do for my psyche and my heart even if – when – my career regresses to the mean.

It's a way for me to reaffirm the solidaristic nature of artistic activity, the connection with other writers and other readers (because I am, of course, an avid, constant reader). Commercial fortunes change. Monopolies lay waste to whole sectors and swallow up the livelihoods of people who believe in what they do like a whale straining tons of plankton through its baleen. But solidarity endures. Solidarietatis longa, vita brevis.

Happy New Year folks. See you in 2025.

[tragic-ships-tournament]

GUYS!! GALS!! AND EVERYONE ELSE IN BETWEEN AND OUT OF THE SYSTEM THAT IS GENDER!!

THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR... IT'S THEEEEEE-

TRAGIC SHIPS TOURNAMENT!

All 64 of your favorite tragic ships will be going up against each other in this head to head single elimination brawl! To figure out the answer to this age old question.... who is the best tragic ship?

The tournament will (hopefully) be starting 1 week from now! On Saturday, January 11th, for 24 hours only vote in our preliminaries to figure out who will be moving on to the next round. There are two brackets, Bracket A and Bracket B, and the winners of each respective bracket will face off each other in the finals

Without further ado, let's see our brackets!

(apologies if there's any typos or mistakes- I had to google like 70% of these characters to get their names.)

Click for quality please! Tumblr is... Tumblr.

Here is the full list of ships!

Marvin Gardens and Whizzer Brown

Orpheus and Eurydice

Ivan and Till

Mizi and Sua

Donald Trump and Joe Biden

The RMS Titanic

Jack Dawson and Rose Dewitt Bukater

Toshiko Sato and Owen Harper

Optimus Prime and Elita-1

The Ship of Theseus

My Hopes and Dreams 😔

Miss Holloway and Duke Keane

Lex Foster and Ethan Green

Margaret Cavendish and Samuel Stratford

Charlotte Sweetly and Ted Spankoffski

Melina Whistler and Janice Quatlane

Dorian Gray and Basil Hallward

Fiddleford McGucket and Stanford Pines

Dean Winchester and Castiel

Glinda Upland and Elphaba Thropp

Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet

Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan

Yamato and Portgas D. Ace

Dewey Riley and Gale Weathers

Archibald Clare and Ludovico Valentinelli

Aura Blackquill and Metis Cykes

Michaela Arklow and Clarith Netsuma

Peter Simonds and Jason McConnell

Jayce Talis and Viktor

Achilles and Patroclus

Captain Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones

Farilane and Kile

The 10th Doctor and Rose Tyler

Jonathan sims and Martin Blackwood

Enjolras and Grantaire

Rachel and Tobias

Rem and Misa Amane

Madoka Kaname and Homura Akemi

Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman

Cloud Strife and Aerith Gainsborough

The Captain and Lieut Havers

Crick Wellsley and Temenos Mistral

Jason Dean and Veronica Sawyer

Seymour Krelborn and Audrey Fulquard

Agent Curt Mega and Owen Carvour

Jesus Christ and Judas Isacriot

Goro Akechi and Joker

L Lawliet and Touta Matsuda

Thor Odinson and Jane Foster

Tessa Gray, Will Herondale, and Jem Carstairs

Lyra Belacqua and Will Parry

Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru

Tony Wyzek and MarIa Vasquez

Lou Clark and Will Traynor

Phob and Phat

Taranza and Queen Sectonia

Anakin Skywalker and Padme Naberrie

Lawrence Gordon amd Adam Faulkner-Stanheight

Pearl and Rose/Pink Diamond

Ash Lynx and Eiji Okumura

Charles Xavier and Erik Magnus Lehnsherr

Normal Oak and Hermie Unworthy

Rintaro Okabe and Kurisu Makise

Rootspring and Bristlefrost

[rikosseen]

Samuel Seo x Reader: The last time p2

Part 1 here | Post getting rescued by Goo

Samuel feels the ghost of your touch, and vaguely smells the lingering presence of you in his penthouse.

He’s bothered, and self aware. He’s regretful, but not, all at once. He knows that he’s to blame, but he finds that pinning the fault on you is easier.

Until it’s not.

As Samuel trudges through the rain with a cigarette in hand, all he can think about is you. He’s occupied, every corner of his mind trying to find a clear image of your face. But nothing. He’s forgotten the way you look, and all he can depict is a blurry, splotched mess of a mouth, a nose, and a pair of eyes.

Samuel grits his teeth at this, his heart clawing at the loss.

Again, it’s his fault. And again, he tries to blame you. This time however, his conscience nips at him, and he wallows in his own regret instead.

.

He finds himself across the street of your apartment complex, hesitant. He has no name at Workers anymore, and freelancing with Goo has only soothed his cluttered mind so much.

He waits. Patiently watches every single person come in and out the sliding door.

Maybe you don’t live here anymore.

And as the clouds move away to make room for the sun, his breath hitches at the sight of you.

Familiarity floods him, and Samuel suddenly feels iron deficient. His eyes gloss over your figure, your outfit, and most prominently, the little boy holding your hand.

Samuel’s skin runs cold, and he feels a rush of reassurance.

As you walk out of the building with a gentle smile directed to the young boy latching on to you, your peripheral catches a figure. One that drowns the colour from your expression.

Time ticks slowly, and as if on command, the clouds cover the sun once more. Samuel stares. You stare. Samuel takes a step forward. You take a step back. So he stops and quickly throws away his cigarette.

Eyes search each other, and while you’re oh so very adamant on getting away from him, your body stands rooted. Out of an old habit you scour for any physical hurt he’s been inflicted.

His face is battered, cuts littering the beautiful canvas that he is. Unusually, his outfit is crickled, stained, and drenched. You can almost smell the nicotine from across the street as you watch the cigarette fall to the ground.

Samuel studies your expression, careful and unmoving. Tries his hardest not to show any vulnerability when disgust and discomfort take over your features.

He can’t bring himself to care. He shouldn’t. But he does so anyway. He wants to reach out, though, stops himself before doing so.

In the end, just like the last time, you’re the first to turn away. Not before giving him a look of pity. His stomach surges at this.

The little kid skips away with you.

You always had a habit of picking up strays. Just like you did Samuel. But instead of being grateful, he bit the hand that fed, cared, and nurtured him.

When you disappear from his line of sight, Samuel considers being selfish one last time.

.

Flowers end up on your doorstep. Beside them are groceries, alongside a small piece of paper that scribbles ‘S’. You don’t bother, and leave it outside your neighbour’s.

.

A message from an unknown number pings from your phone as you open your front door.

For the boy.

You look down to see a range of toys, and reluctantly take them in.

.

More flowers come. More toys come. More groceries come. You accept them a little less unwillingly.

.

This week, your doorstep is empty. You feel silly. Ridiculous even. For waiting and feeling disappointed that Samuel has stopped.

.

Another week. Nothing comes.

.

Another week, and a wilted rose is left in front of your apartment. You pick it up, and- is that blood? Your phone pings from a different number.

For you.

You snort at the pathetic little flower, but put it in a ziplock bag anyway.

.

The doorbell rings at 2am, and you look through the peephole. A familiar face is met. When the door creeks open, Samuel’s limp body crashes onto yours with a thud.

[us-cj]

𝖘𝖎𝖈 𝖘𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖞𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖘

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed. — U.S. Constitution Second Amendment

The militia of the United States consists of all able-bodied males at least 17 years of age... — 10 U.S. Code § 246

Patrick Henry

* “Guard with jealous attention the public liberty. Suspect everyone who approaches that jewel. Unfortunately, nothing will preserve it but downright force. Whenever you give up that force, you are inevitably ruined.”

George Mason

* “To disarm the people…[i]s the most effectual way to enslave them.”

James Madison

* “The right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed. A well regulated militia, composed of the body of the people, trained to arms, is the best and most natural defense of a free country.”

* “The ultimate authority, wherever the derivative may be found, resides in the people alone.”

Noah Webster

* “Before a standing army can rule, the people must be disarmed; as they are in almost every kingdom of Europe. The supreme power in America cannot enforce unjust laws by the sword; because the whole body of the people are armed, and constitute a force superior to any bands of regular troops that can be, on any pretense, raised in the United States.”

Samuel Adams

* “The Constitution shall never be construed to prevent the people of the United States who are peaceable citizens from keeping their own arms.”

Richard Henry Lee

* “A militia when properly formed are in fact the people themselves…and include, according to the past and general usuage of the states, all men capable of bearing arms… “To preserve liberty, it is essential that the whole body of the people always possess arms, and be taught alike, especially when young, how to use them.”

Thomas Jefferson

* “I prefer dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery.”

* “What country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance. Let them take arms.”

* “The laws that forbid the carrying of arms are laws of such a nature. They disarm only those who are neither inclined nor determined to commit crimes…. Such laws make things worse for the assaulted and better for the assailants; they serve rather to encourage than to prevent homicides, for an unarmed man may be attacked with greater confidence than an armed man.”

* “The Constitution of most of our states (and of the United States) assert that all power is inherent in the people; that they may exercise it by themselves; that it is their right and duty to be at all times armed.”

**********************************

No emergency justifies the violation of any of the provisions of the United States Constitution.

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

Ex parte Milligan, 71 U.S. 2 (1866) which yet stands to this day: "The Constitution of the United States is a law for rulers and people, equally in war and in peace, and covers with the shield of its protection all classes of men, at all times, and under all circumstances. No doctrine, involving more pernicious consequences, was ever invented by the wit of man than that any of its provisions can be suspended during any of the great exigencies of government. Such a doctrine leads directly to anarchy or despotism..."

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

Volume 16, American Jurisprudence 2d, § 52: “It is sometimes argued that the existence of an emergency allows the existence and operation of powers, national or state, which violate the inhibitions of the Federal Constitution. The rule is quite otherwise.

No emergency justifies the violation of any of the provisions of the United States Constitution. An emergency, however, while it cannot create power, increase granted power, or remove or diminish the restrictions imposed upon power granted or reserved, may furnish the occasion for the exercise of power already in existence, but not exercised except during an emergency... The Constitution of the United States is the law for rulers and people, equally in war and in peace, and covers with the shield of its protection all classes of men, at all times, and under all circumstances”

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

Volume 16, American Jurisprudence 2d, § 177: "The general misconception is that any statute passed by legislators bearing the appearance of law constitutes the law of the land. The U.S. Constitution is the supreme law of the land, and any statue, to be valid, must be in agreement.

It is impossible for both the Constitution and a law violating it to be valid; one must prevail. This is succinctly stated as follows: The general rule is that an unconstitutional statute, though having the form and name of law, is in reality no law, but is wholly void, and ineffective for any purpose; since unconstitutionality dates from the time of its enactment, and not merely from the date of the decision so branding it.

An unconstitutional law, in legal contemplation, is as inoperative as if it had never been passed. Such a statute leaves the question that it purports to settle just as it would be had the statute not been enacted.

Since an unconstitutional law is void, the general principals follow that it imposes no duties, confers no rights, creates no office, bestows no power or authority on anyone, affords no protection, and justifies no acts performed under it... A void act cannot be legally consistent with a valid one. An unconstitutional law cannot operate to supersede any existing valid law. Indeed, insofar as a statute runs counter to the fundamental law of the land, it superseded thereby. No one is bound to obey an unconstitutional law and no courts are bound to enforce it."

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

“All laws, rules and practices which are repugnant to the Constitution are null and void ...if any statement within any law which is passed is unconstitutional, the whole law is unconstitutional.” Marbury v. Madison, 5th U.S. 2 Cranch 137, 180.

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

"Even a state of war and the declaration of secession by the people cannot suspend the Constitution or remove its protection." Houston County v Martin, 232 Ala 511, 169 So. 13.

[irishmammonagenda]

Hi! Can i request MC with older brothers (i have four older brothers 😂) who are very protective of their little sister, and reaction of demon brothers, when MC wants to introduce them to her siblings?

hiya! ofc u can, im so sorry this is so late i saw it in my askbox like a week a week ago then forgot about it 😭😭 and then went away for easter and forgot abt it again😭😭

grma for the ask <3 fic dividers by @cafekitsune

MC With Older Brothers-Obey Me Brothers x Reader

When you had first been transferred to the Devildom, the inital shock of the new environment, the fact that demons and angels were actually real, the fact the fact that magic was actually real had made you forget about the reactions of your family back home upon realising yoou had just disappeared without a trace. It took you around a month to even remember, after the shock had worn off, and you had stopped living in survival mode. You hastily travelled to the Demon Lord´s Castle, and requested a formal visit to your family.

They were livid. Relieved but livid. Your parents, who were workaholics hadn´t noticed until around halfway through the second week. Your older brothers however, noticed the first day. And oh boy, did they want answers.

Going through Barbatos' portal was never a truly pleasant experience, although it wasn't unpleasant either. It was like that feeling in the pit of your abdomen when you're pushed too high on a swingset, but to a lesser extent. It almost looked like stars as the insides of the vortex falshed before your eyes before fading to reveal the park that you grew up near.

The reds and oranges of the leaves shone sparkling against the reddening sky with the morning dew. The early birds chirped, diving for worms, leaves fell gently down to the ground. You made your way home.

The familiar white door stood out like the gates of the Celestial Realm, your own personal paradise, everything you knew before the rug was pulled under you. You tried the doorhandle. Locked. Sighing, you looked under the entrance mat for the spare key and unlocked the door, walking into the hall. You had entered the kitchen and saw Evan, your second eldest brother making a sandwhich.

"Hiya!" You greet him. "Whatcha makin', Evs?"

Evan, who had just picked up his plate turned around and dropped it, his jaw slacked open, eyes wide. He stared at you, not even caring that his sandwich had fallen. "Y-you…where the fuck have you been?!"

"Uh...I-"

"Y'know what? Don't answer that yet." He steps away from you, moving out of the kitchen to the base of the stairs. "Sammie! Ben!" Evan shouts a few times, before hearing a pair of 'what?!'s back. "Get your asses down here now!"

Soon enough, reluctant thuds sound from the top of the stairs, getting louder as two of your brothers thunder down the stairs, you gulp. Lord Diavolo, you were in for it now.

Samuel appears downstairs first, the baggy MCR shirt he always wears to lounge around half hidden by his stained jacket. Ben follows soon after, phone in hand, no doubt open on the game he had been testing out. They both stall when they see you, Ben trips, and starts to fall, taking Samuel down with him.

“I-…MC..” Samuel swallows thickly. “W-where have you been…”

Ben parrots this.

You gulp. Adam—your oldest brother—would no doubt be the worst. And he wasn’t even home yet!

When Adam, your oldest brother did return from his date with his girlfriend (as you found out), he had demanded answers, and a hug. You try to explain it away, saying you found a scholarship at a college in another country, you must've just forgot to mention it! Silly you! Atleast that's what you were telling your older brothers, they didn't need to know you were taken to hell and the scholarship wasn't too far from the truth!

"Why didn't you visit? Or call? Or anything?" Was a question you heard parroted back to you multiple times.

"I...uh...it was just the craziness of it all....I forgot to call..." You rub the back of your neck. "I had to get a new phone anyway..." You say, giving them your number. It was a reasonable excuse. They couldn't exactly argue with it.

Samuel grabs your hand, the rough callouses of his fingers comforting. Permanent dents from his mastery of the guitar, he swings your arm back and forth, reminding himself that you're not in a ditch somewhere. "As long as you're safe...."

Evan huffs, Adam stares at you, eyes following your every move, he grumbles, "You're coming home every holiday you can. And calling us regularly. No more dropping off the face of the earth."

"Haha alright!" You laugh nervously, he didn't need to know that you technically did fall off the face of the earth.

"And I want to visit this College." Adam adds, Evan nods in agreement, as do the two younger of the brothers.

Shit.

Ben stretches, before sitting forward. "So tell us all about your dorm. Got any roommates?"

And boy, did that cause a few heated discussions. Though in the end you got away pretty much scott free. Though you had to visit bi-monthly, and call atleast bi-weekly.

On one of these bi-monthly visits, you'd decided to bring one of your 'roommates' along with you....

Just how would that go?....

LUCIFER

"Oh?~ Care to repeat that, MC?"

It had been a busy day in the Devildom for the Avatar of Pride. He was finishing up on paperwork when you came into his office asking him to come to the next visit to your brothers with you.

He acts a bit cocky over it, with his signature smirk and all, but agrees almost instantly.

Despite the fact that you asked HIM to meet your family, and that he was feeling quite flustered, he still somehow managed to make your cheeks burn and make you feel much more flustered about the situation.

"Hi everyone, this is Lucif-Lucius...! He's one of my roommates!"

"Lucius?"

"...My parents were Greek."

"Yeah, Ben, his parents were Greek don't be racist."

Lucifer relates to Adam on the sole basis that they're both the eldest, though he does feel second hand embarrassment anytime said brother would do anything a little too like him.

Overall its a pleasant time, your brothers were quite charmed by the Avatar of Pride, and it makes your pact mark buzz.

Lucifer fights the urge to place his palms over his face and re-contemplate his entire life and every single action he'd ever taken as he watches Adam, your eldest brother, lecture Samuel, the youngest of your elder brothers. The older man is glaring exasperatedly, Samuel hides his hands in his pocket, clearly uninterested. You watch on and feel a sort of deja vu, so does Lucifer. Does he seriously look like that when he gives out lectures? No wonder his brothers are so unruly! You pat his back from where you both sit on the sofa, he glares at you, though there's no bite to it. The second hand embarrassment is very strong.

MAMMON

"WHA- ehem...I-i mean of course ye'd want te intreduce yer b-brothers to the great M-mammon...!"

If Mams has a tail it'd be wagging like a helicopter propeller thingy.

You want HIM to visit your family?!

He's super tempted to go back and buy the engagement ring he'd saw in a jewellery shop window when shopping now!

He had been too nervous at the time....was he moving too fast...?

He's a nervous wreck, all the way there he's muttering things you can't understand in irish (gaeilgeoir mams agenda)

You can pick up the word 'focáil' (fuck) being thrown about a lot.

What de ye mean MC? He IS calm! Calmer than the sea on a stormy day...but thats still sort of calm!

The name Mammon isn't really known to anyone outside of the occult, so he doesn't change it.

"Mammon?" Evan says raising a brow, "What kind of a name is that?"

"He's Irish Evs don't be racist."

"Oh."

The dinner is quite awkward, but in the end, he somehow manages to win over your brothers.

and hey, if Ben gets more donations from people when he streams, Adam gets more costumers for his personal training, and Samuel and Evan get promotions at their jobs, well he didn't mean to! Honest!

Mammon sits at the dinner table with about as much nervousness as a schoolboy waiting outside the principal's office, he answers every question with a stutter, and tries his best to remember his table manners, your brothers are eyeing him suspiciously, until a clang sounds through the small kitchen, you had dropped your fork. Mammon perks up, happy to be 'useful' to you, "I'll get it!" and he practically dives down to get the utensil before washing it off and giving it to you. Your brothers relax slightly, deeming him too whipped for you to truly be a scumbag.

LEVIATHAN

"You want ME to WHAT?!"

bros panicking more than mammon☠️

Are you sure you want a stinky smelly otaku like me to-😰😰😰😰😰

It takes ages to calm him down enough, then he just feels flustered.

This reminds him of an anime with an insanely long name!

When you arrive at your house, he's so fidgety and nervous someone give this man a hug (dont he'll scream)

You introduce him as Levi, no one bats an eye to that one, hooray!

the atmosphere is very awkward until he notices the sticker on Ben's phonecase.

He finds out that your brother is a streamer, MC how could you never tell him?!

its a lot less awkward a lot more nerdy now.

"O-oh well I see where you're coming from, the mechanics and graphics on the game were great, but the lore needed work!" Levi says, stuttering far less than you'd expect him to. Ben nods, "I mean, I just kind of stayed for the boss fights, but yeah the lore was a bit..." He makes a face. Leviathan leans over, eyes sparkling, you admire them freely, normally he'd notice by now and be too flustered to continue talking. "Yeah! It had so much potential! But it just seemed so rushed!" You look around the room, Adam and Evan are conversing amongst eachother quietly, whilst Sam is trying his best to follow the conversation that Levi and Ben are having.

SATAN

"Oh? I'd be honoured..."

He's giddy, you wanted him of all of his brothers to come with you? Take that Lucifer!

This reminds him of when the love interest brings the protagonist to meet their family!

He reads up on the scenes as a sort of revision, though his natural charm is going to win them over anyway...or maybe not...

"Hello my name's Satan." He reaches out to shake Adam's hand.

Adam swallows, "Satan?"

Satan chuckles, having made a rookie mistake in his nervousness, "My parents were...devout satanists...I've had a hard life..."

Samuel pats his shoulders, "Oh you poor thing..."

He's honestly quite the gentleman, your brothers quite like him, despite his 'unfortunate' name.

"So S-satan..." Adam begins, "What was it like growing up with Satanist parents?" Satan sets his for down, "Oh, not as bad as one would think..." he quickly bullshits, "I did grow up in a very gothic style house though.." Your brothers nod, Evan intterupts, "So did you ever sacrifice any cats?" Satan grips his knife tightly, you feel rage bubble up in his pact mark. "No, satanists--atleast sane satanists--don't do that..." "Oh right..." Evan raises his hands in defense, "Just curious." "Oh no you're fine..." He says smoothly.

ASMODEUS

"Oh my Devil!~ I'd love to!"

Posts about it to his devilgram.

He's geniunely honoured, and sososososo excited.

"Hey guys, this is Asmodeus!"

"..Asmodeus?"

"...His parents are french..."

"Poor thing..."

ofc he wins them over, who do you think he is?

Adam loves him now, and Asmo is his goto for relationship advice.

Adam growns, looking at his phone, you give him a knowing look, "Trouble in Paradise?" "I forgot about our anniversary coming up! It's tomorrow!" He looks geniunely stressed. "There's no way I can get a restaurant reservation in time!" He says, stressing about his upcoming anniversary, it was his turn to do something. He didn't want to disappoint his girlfriend. Asmo shrugs, "So don't." Adam looks at him incredulously. "Excuse me?" "Don't go to a restaurant...the weather forecast says it'll be nice tomorrow, do a picnic or something." Adam gapes his mouth, breathlessly replying, "Yeah that could work...that could work..." A day later, Adam rings you, the picnic was a success! He demands Asmo's number.

BEELZEBUB

"Oh? Yeah MC I'd love to." :D

He's a little bit nervous, but happy that you asked him to go

Plus there's food involved.

Things that are important to you + you + food? He's in heaven (figuratively, last time he was in heaven he got thrown out, literally thrown)

Overall he's really sweet, has to eat a lot before he gets there so he doesn't accidentally eat one of your brothers.

"Hi I'm Beel."

"Beel?"

"He's Russian Evan, don't be racist." You bullshit, Beel looks at you, then smiles because he's looking at you :D

Your brothers love him, he's such a gentle giant.

Beel smiled happily, "This food is amazing." He says, closed eyed smile. "Thanks!" Evan grinned, "Cooked it myself!" Samuel scoffs, "No you didn't you microwaved it." Evan hits him over the head, "Shut up." He grumbles. Beel smiles again, they remind him so much of his own brothers.

BELPHEGOR

"No."

"What do you mean no?" :(

"I'm not going."

"Please."

"No."

"Pleaseee."

"Still no." He groans, putting his pillow over his face.

"I'll just have to ask Lucifer then..."

He jumps up. "Like fuck you will...c'mon, we have a family dinner to attend."

As per usual he is a bastard.

The waling talking definition of a bastard.

Your brothers hate him at first, but as the night goes on, they find out he's actually kind of funny.

"This is Belphie!"

"Belphie?"

"He's Russian don't be racist." You lie.

"Poor thing."

Belphie glares at you.

Belphie groans into his pillow, finally home, he drags you and pulls you onto the bed. Holding you in a vice like grip. "I'm never doing that again." He says tiredly, using you as a teddy bear to go to sleep. Bastard.

im experimenting with post designs :D

'gaeilgeoir' means irish speaker, i've seen it spelt other ways tho

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Trials of Apollo Au

@fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket

Sera tried not to throw a fit, she was too mature for such things but this was her baby. How could she not get upset?

Sera: Michael don't do this. Adams just a ba-

Michael: That's the problem, he's not!

It has been pointed out to Sera that she babies Adam, the angel of music too much. She always wanted a child but angels don't have babies the normal way.

Adam was made to replace Samuel, the fallen angel and devil down in Hell. When he opened his perfect golden eyes he took right to Sera and she knew she had to protect him from everything and everyone.

But that came at a price. Sheltering Adam like that made him naive, uncultured and lacking proper knowledge. And the fact that God made him the first gay angel meant Sera had to keep other men away from him. They only take advantage!

But now they want Adam to lead the Extermination Day army, Sera didn't understand why. He was too sweet too soft. Adam didn't have a real mean bone in his body.

Sera: He's my baby!

Michael: He needs to learn about the world and life! He can't do that with you sheltering him. He's going to earth to help a human better their life, without his powers.

Sera: WHAT!?

Michael: Or would you rather he go to Hell?

Sera winced, she didn't want either thing. She looked at her sleeping son, he didn't know what was going to happen and it wasn't fair.

Sera: No...... But no powers?

Michael: The more he helps them he'll start to get them back. Say goodbye it's time.

-

Down on earth, Lucifer and Charlie were laying in their normal dumpster watching the night sky. The brother and sister duo were about to fall asleep when they saw a shooting star.

Lucifer: Make a wish!

Charlie crossed her fingers and closed her eyes. She wished for a miracle to save them from the streets.

Charlie: Done!

That's when the shooting star...... Started coming for them!!

[nerdy-nook]

Some Pre-Kerberos Holt Family Headcanons!

Colleen is the family's breadwinner. Yes, I know Samuel is a Commander, but I feel like people forget that Colleen is also a scientist!

Both Pidge and Matt have ADHD, they got it from their father.

Matt never learned how to drive.

Pidge has some troubles at school—no, not academic troubles, but troubles with bullies. Her parents wanted to transfer her, but she insisted she could tough it out.

The family often invites both Shiro and Adam over to dinner. This is how Keith met the Holts!

Samuel can't cook to save his life.

Matt (accidentally) set a fire in his high school chem lab and got away with it.

Pidge isn't allowed to have energy drinks, yes there is a story behind that.

They invent things to give to each other as gifts! This family is the definition of extra.

Matt tried pot once, and he immediately greened out.

Shiro taught Pidge self-defense because of the bullies.

Matt and Pidge are both heavily invested in FNAF lore; they've made their dad watch countless hours of content about it. He does it because he loves them.

Their back garden is phenomenal, thanks to Colleen.

They have family movie nights, sci-fi is their favorite genre.

Shiro used to lowkey babysit Pidge.

[famousinuniverse]

Faneuil Hall Marketplace, Boston, United States: Faneuil Hall is a marketplace and meeting hall located near the waterfront and today's Government Center, in Boston, Massachusetts. Opened in 1742, it was the site of several speeches by Samuel Adams, James Otis, and others encouraging independence from Great Britain. It is now part of Boston National Historical Park and a well-known stop on the Freedom Trail. Wikipedia

[soracities]

hey!! i hope this doesnt come across weirdly but can you think of any poems that are "blue"? not necessarily that are about the color, but rather that evoke that feeling

This was such an intriguing question. Blue poems (to me), either in tone or feeling:

"The Wild Swans at Coole" by W.B. Yeats

"Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" by W.B. Yeats

"Rain Song" by Badr Shakir al-Sayyab

"A Little Tooth" by Thomas Lux

"Night. The city grew calm..." by Alexander Blok

"Fire Graffiti" by Tomas Tranströmer

"Vermeer" by Tomas Tranströmer

"When She Told me..." by Jean Valentine

"black magic" by Sonia Sanchez

"Shapechangers in Winter" by Margaret Atwood

"I Sleep a Lot" by Czesław Miłosz

"Between Ageing and Old" by Jack Gilbert

"Imaginary Morning Glory" by C.D. Wright

"And Then I Tried" by Rene Ricard

"Rain" by Michael Bazzett

"Rush Hour" by Gerry Murphy

"The Hole" by Richard G. Stern

"in the rain" by e.e. cummings

"it may not always be so and i say" by e.e. cummings

"[And when I embraced you]" by Kiwao Nomura

"I Dreamed Again" by Anne Michaels

"Somewhere Night is Falling" by Anne Michaels

"Flame" by Adam Zagajewski

"Postscript" by Seamus Heaney

"Down by the Station Early in the Morning" by John Ashbery

"Love Poem" by Denise Levertov

"The Years from You to Me" by Paul Celan

"In Spite of Everything, the Stars" by Edward Hirsch

"Earthly Constellation" by Vasko Popa

"Waiting Room" by Ingeborg Bachmann

"Woman" by Saadi Youssef

"Night in Hamdan" by Saadi Youssef (no online source, but the collection is Without an Alphabet, Without a Face)

"I'm Speaking" by Rafael Guillén

"Head, Heart" by Lydia Davis

"Dwelling" by Li-Young Lee

"Aubade" by Louise Gluck

"French Novel" by Richie Hofman

"Counting the Beats" by Robert Graves

"Cascando" by Samuel Beckett

[hdslibrary]

Happy International Dog Day 2024!

We love this elegant (and absolutely RIPPED) dog waiting patiently as he waits to receive his name from the biblical Adam. Or perhaps he is just hanging out, waiting until Adam is done with the naming so a game of fetch can begin.

Bochart, Samuel. Opera Omnia. Editio quarta. Lvgduni Batavorum : Apud Cornelium Boutesteyn & Samuelem Luchtmans ; Trafecti ad Rhenum : Apud Guilielum vande Water, 1712. (v.2: Hierozoicon, sive Bipartitum opus de animalibus S. Scripturae.)

[echos-gal]

I was talking with one of my best friends about Star Wars characters being brought back and the possibility that Tech might return in a future work, and realized that even though TBB has ended, Star Wars has a really high track record of bringing back characters in other works, set after their supposed "death." Basically, no one ever comes back in the same movie/show/work they "died" in:

Maul: "died" in The Phantom Menace, brought back in The Clone Wars.

Gregor: "died" in The Clone Wars, brought back quite some time later in Rebels (and The Bad Batch, which comes first chronologically)

Echo: "died" in The Clone Wars, brought back SEVERAL YEARS LATER in the seventh season (I'm counting this as a separate show because it was not continuous - the show was revived)

Boba Fett: "died" in Return of the Jedi, brought back in The Mandalorian. DECADES LATER.

Asajj Ventress: "died" (died? like actually?) in Dark Disciple, brought back in The Bad Batch

Palpatine: somehow Palpatine returned

I feel like I'm missing some, but you get the point. The only ones I can think of who have died and come back in the same series are Ahsoka in Rebels and Fennec Shand in The Mandalorian.

There are also a couple characters whose fates have been left purposely open in order to have the possibility of bringing them back. Sev from Republic Commando is one who comes to mind. He is left behind in a war zone on a mission, and while Karen Traviss (author of the RepComm books) wanted to continue his story in a novel, Star Wars told her no because they wanted to keep plans open for Sev at a later time. We haven't gotten any additional Sev content yet, but his fate still isn't sealed.

Another is Mace Windu. I know George Lucas was like "he is dead for sure" but fans really want him back and so does Samuel L Jackson. I can see George changing his mind. Windu is a badass and beloved by fans. Another character who "fell," no body no death, and people are pretty adamant about getting him back because they liked him so much.

What I am trying to say is that Tech is a fan-favorite character whose story felt unfinished to many viewers. I'd say most of us were waiting every episode of season 3 for him to return, and the writers know that. Jennifer Corbett is on twitter and is very aware that "Tech Lives" is a huge thing in the Bad Batch fandom.

There are more animated works planned, as well: we know that Omega will likely appear again as an adult. There's like a 95% chance that a clone rebellion series is in the works, considering that they set it up in The Bad Batch. And Nika Futterman has hinted that Ventress will be appearing in future works. Tech could (and SHOULD) be brought back in any of these!

So yeah.... TECH LIVES

[talonabraxas]

Khamael, Archangel of Mars Talon Abraxas

In the world of the ancients, there are no tame angels. Of course this is especially true of the Archangel of Mars, who is sometimes called Camael (Chamuel) and sometimes Samael.

In modern astrology, Mars is called the action or energy principle. But traditional interpretations of Mars go deeper. It's Mars that represents the strength and fortitude to do what must be done, no matter the cost. The stories of the angels Camael and Samael both evoke these themes.

The Archangel Camael (sometimes spelled Chamuel or Kamael) has been called the "Archangel of Divine Justice." As a warrior angel, he's been named as the leader of the angelic rank of Powers, who guard souls from demons on the path to heaven. Camael also been identified as the leader of the forces that expelled Adam and Eve from the Garden, the angel who wielded the flaming sword. But he's also said to be one of the angels, with Gabriel, who comforted Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane before his crucifixion.

The Archangel Samael, too, tackles the hard jobs. In some accounts, it's Samael in the form of a snake who tempted Eve with the apple, and Samuel who slaughtered the first-born in Egypt during the Passover. In his role as the "adversary," Samuel wrestles with Jacob in the desert, testing his resolve. The Jewish mystical text the Zohar quotes Samael: “...my entire domination is based on killing. And if I accept the Torah, there will no longer be wars. My rule is over the planet Maadim (Mars) that indicates spilling of blood."

The myths surrounding both Camael and Samael depict them doing what must be done, even knowing the cost may be high, or they will be reviled for it. The Angel of Mars brings the strength to do it anyway, out of the deepest compassion and love.

When you need strength to do what is hard, or to speak out no matter the cost, or to practice some "tough love," it's the Archangel Camael (or Samuel) who is your ally. As the Archangel of Mars, asking for his assistance on Tuesday (Mars' day) is especially fortuitous.