#i debated over not including the last one but it's a first draft so i figured why not

[twstowo]

Their Magicam Accounts[Twst]

♡︎How I think their Magicam Accounts would look and what they do in them.

♡︎This was been catching dust in my drafts for months now. Crazy

♡︎Includes: NRC, RSA and Rollo

⋆⋅☆Riddle: Owns two accounts on Magicam. The first one is only used to like or comment on posts from friends, Carter set up this account against Riddle’s will. He once accidentally posted a picture of the two of you and had a heart attack trying to delete it. The second account is a secret one where he only posts hedgehog pictures.

⋆⋅☆Trey: Has one account where most of his posts showcase his cakes, including pictures from unbirthday parties and moments of you cooking with him. His profile picture is him with that dog filter, you can’t change my mind.

⋆⋅☆Carter: Literally Owns Magicam, posting pictures every time he does something or is with someone. #Thevoicesarewinning. Comments on every post and totally knows that Riddle owns the hedgehog account. He also has a side account for stalking people. Changes his profile picture daily.

⋆⋅☆Ace: Initially only posted embarrassing pictures of people and would only take them down if they paid him. Got suspended quickly from Magicam. The second account is more relaxed, where he shares random content whenever he feels like it. He’s also the type to edit group pictures to make everyone look bad except himself, just to annoy everyone.

⋆⋅☆Deuce: Was the one who reported Ace’s first account since most pictures were of him. Has Shaky pictures, the best picture he has is one of him, Ace, and you together. Probably uses social media mostly for chatting with friends. Also, he, Ace, and you have one of those quirky couple profile pics.

⋆⋅☆Leona: Owns an account with no posts, profile picture, comments, or followers. Rarely uses Magicam, but he occasionally checks your posts.

⋆⋅☆Ruggie: Uses Magicam for selling stuff. Created a group for selling second-hand items and pins all his stuff to ensure faster sales than everyone else.

⋆⋅☆Jack: Gym pictures? Nah, I feel he’d be too shy for that. Probably has one image that he uses everywhere else just to identify himself.

⋆⋅☆Azul: Opened an account to promote Mostro Lounge, daily posts feature new dishes, prices, menus, and sales. He also has a personal account but doesn’t post (doesn’t think he looks nice in pictures).

⋆⋅☆Jade: Mushroom account, has so many followers who share his fascination. Their conversations are all about their mushroom hikes and can last for hours. Makes really aesthetically pleasing posts filled with detailed information about different types of mushrooms.

⋆⋅☆Floyd: For legal reasons I won’t say why, but his account got suspended after one week of its creation.

⋆⋅☆Kalim: Sends party invitations through Magicam, Jamil had to create a group to prevent Kalim from sending individual invitations constantly. Enjoys capturing pictures of the sky. Once posted a picture of Jamil, after it was deleted, he didn't post anything for a whole month, I wonder what happened.

⋆⋅☆Jamil: Similar to Leona, but he often checks Trey’s account for his cake posts. When he saw a picture of you and Trey together, he invited you over to cook with him but didn’t have the courage to ask for a picture of the two of you.

⋆⋅☆Vil: Posts frequently, sharing about himself and his daily routine, always looking impeccable. Regularly receives barking comments, he spends hours deleting all of them.

⋆⋅☆Rook: We all know he has a fan account for Neige. Likes posts of all the celebrities he adores. Writes extremely lengthy comments whenever he finds someone beautiful. He's been blocked so many times he's lost count.

⋆⋅☆Epel: Initially tried taking cute pictures following Vil’s advice but got annoyed as he looked too feminine. Instead, he started promoting stuff from his farm back home.

⋆⋅☆Idia: Uses an account with a weird name to hide his identity, posts about games and occasional activities. Engages in lengthy debates with anyone who disagrees with his new hyperfixation. Has a different notification ring for your posts.

⋆⋅☆Ortho: Shares many pictures of you and him and others doing silly things, sometimes posts gossips and causes huge scandals with them, to the point he decided to create an account with only gossip info. (Azul is literally taking notes.)

⋆⋅☆Malleus: This man owns a Nokia 3310.

⋆⋅☆Lilia: Creates posts about the Doramas he watches, managing a fan page to discuss them with others. Shares pictures of Silver, Sebek, and Malleus, although the latter two get embarrassed, leading Lilia to take down their pictures.

⋆⋅☆Silver: Posts images of nature and cute animals. There's only one picture of him – you took it while he was sleeping and posted it. He didn't have the heart to delete it, knowing it was you.

⋆⋅☆Sebek: Shaky hands #2. Takes pictures of his paintings of Malleus; if you scroll long enough, you might see an accidentally posted painting of you.

⋆⋅☆Che’nya: Shares pictures of people's scared faces, taken while invisible when the flash goes off.

⋆⋅☆Neige: Lost track of his posts; like Vil, he has many followers. Captures moments with the dwarfs and shares funny stories about his day in every picture.

⋆⋅☆Rollo: Has one account filled with pictures of Fleur City. His profile picture used to be a croissant, but he removed it since it looked dumb. He was blocked every magic user, except for you. Yet.

[coryndoll]

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): ermm nothing rly, just a debate in class maybe

authors note: giving u guys a roommate since we introduced lorenzo to the series !! aria will be good !!

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

trailing into your english class, you head straight for your seat near the front. you use the exact same seat in all of your classes. it isn’t really on purpose, but it works, and it’s usually always open.

you only know a few students from this class, including your roommate aria, whose self-assigned seat is right by yours. it’s no surprise that the you join together in the first and second row, with aria in the first and you in the second, just behind her.

 as you settle your bag below your seat, you pull your laptop and notebook on top of your lap, getting ready to start your third class of the day. you’re planning on speaking with your professor after class about an essay draft you formed last night like he requested, but probably later in the day or after this period, depending on how eager you are. just to get it out of the way, signs point to very.

“excuse me,” a girl says as she appears beside the second row with some students behind her. you look up and are almost dumbfounded to lock eyes with one of the students, elara, accompanied by her friends . . . rafe and lorenzo. seriously?

you know that you share the class with the three of them but there’s usually a nonspoken rule that you don’t sit by each other. rafe and his friends usually stay in the back and whisper amongst themselves about probably the stupidest shit ever. whatever.

elara sends a kind, but somehow impatient, smile your way as she waits.

hesitantly you pull your legs further into you as much as you can, and the three students shuffle past you to settle in some seats just a few away, visibly marking their distance from you like it was necessary. as they pass, you look up, barely making eye contact with the opposite roommates as one finds no purpose in paying any mind to her while the other is too busy chatting with elara to even acknowledge you.

lorenzo has nothing but a notebook tucked under his armpit as he steps pass, a long story being recalled to elara who listens happily. rafe is right behind him, an apple between his teeth, looking stupid as ever. but at least you get some sort of acknowledgment from him.

his eyes only flicker down at you, probably to make sure he isn’t stepping over anything of yours, and his gaze briefly trails up to meet your own. there’s still no emotion. nothing from him. it’s frustrating.

he takes one last shuffle past you and then joins elara and lorenzo in their seats. you grimace as you watch them perch, your eyes immediately shifting to aria in front of you, who watched the whole thing.

her eyes told you everything. what the hell are they doing over here?

i don’t know, you send back quickly with a shrug, then look to the professor and open up your notebook. as class begins, you can’t help but send glances toward the trio next to you.

the professor clears his throat, his gaze sweeping over the room. “good morning, everyone. let’s jump right into today’s discussion,” he says, and you mentally prepare yourself on your notes and reading from the past week. “can anyone tell me their thoughts on the catcher in the rye?”

aria’s hand shoots up instinctively, her heart pounding with anticipation. you know she has been prepared extensively for this discussion all week.

“yes, arabella?” the professor calls on her, nodding in her direction.

she sets her hand down, and you can just hear the smile on her face from being able to not only discuss but be the first one to. “i think that the book is an exploration of adolescence and the struggle for identity,” she begins, her voice steady. “holden caulfield’s journey is a reflection of the universal desire to find meaning in a world filled with phoniness and hypocrisy.”

you feel the courage to raise your own hand right after her. prof thompson gives extra points for participation. what’s the harm?

“i believe holden caulfield is a complex character,” you add onto aria. “while some might see him as a disillusioned and cynical teenager, i kind of feel sympathy for him. he’s struggling with that hypocrisy and phoniness he perceives in the adult world, and his desire for authenticity and connection is palpable throughout the entire novel.”

although aria is nodding in agreement in front of you, you take a deep breath, your confidence faltering slightly when you notice rafe, lorenzo, and elara exchanging amused glances.

but even as you were talking, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease creeping over you. were they laughing at you? or were they just sharing a private joke together? the uncertainty is gnawing at you.

before the professor can move on to the next topic, rafe raises his hand confidently, “i have to disagree,” he starts with, and you can feel yourself roll your eyes instinctively. his voice is just dripping with cockiness. “holden is nothing more than a whiny, entitled brat who refuses to take responsibility for his own actions.”

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. you didn’t expect rafe to have an opinion, let alone one that’s completely against yours . . . about a book! you’ve never seen rafe read a single book back home.

you turn to him, confusion clear in my voice. “you’ve actually read catcher in the rye?”

rafe shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin spreading across his face. “what, like it was hard?” he retorts, earning a few chuckles from his friends, even a few students. okay elle woods.

no this is rafe cameron, guys. since when did the guy ever pick up a book and participate in weekly discussions?

you avoid eye contact with the boy, though you scoff at him, your voice tinged with defiance. “well clearly you missed the point,” you shoot back. you’re only more determined to continue the argument. maybe take out all the anger you’ve gathered since the whole silent treatment thing.

even though you started it (with good reason and the intention for it not to last very long), now you’ve just been upset that there hasn’t been any closure because both sides haven’t been willing to talk to the other.

“i have to agree with y/n here,” aria chimes in, her voice calm. “holden caulfield’s disillusionment stems from a deeper existential crisis. he’s grappling with the loss of innocence and the harsh realities of adulthood, which is something countless of teenagers can relate to.”

you nod in agreement, grateful for aria’s support. “exactly,” you say, your confidence only bolstered by your friend’s validation. “holden’s struggle to find authenticity in a world filled with a lack of it is a universal theme that resonates with readers of . . . of all ages.”

the classroom buzzes with excitement as the three classmates passionately defend their interpretation of the novel. some students nod in agreement, while others furrow their brows in thought.

but before the tension could escalate further, professor thompson intervenes, a playful twinkle in his eye. “alright, enough you guys,” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone. “although i’d love to hear you go on and on about this, we do have other topics to cover today.”

“great job on your essay draft, y/n,” thompson says, handing you back the stapled pages with a smile. his praise warms your heart and mind. it’s like a reward.

“thank you so much,” you respond, tucking the draft into your bag with a sense of accomplishment.

“yes, i particularly enjoyed the part about the protagonist’s existential crisis,” he adds, and you look up with raised brows. “really deep stuff,” he says.

you laugh and nod. “oh, that part? not gonna lie, it took me about three hours and a lot of coffee to come up with that.”

professor thompson chuckles. “well, it paid off. your insights are always a breath of fresh air in class discussions.l

“glad to hear it,” you say, feeling a bit more at ease. moments like these make the late nights and endless cups of coffee feel just a little worth it.

“one more thing before you leave," he adds, and your curiosity piques as you pause your bag-packing. you hum. “i actually need you to take on a tutoring assignment for me,” he begins, and you nod, already thinking about the extra cash you’ll earn. tutoring has always been a reliable source of income for you.

“sure, no problem. who is it?” you ask, bracing yourself for the usual names of students who struggle with their coursework.

“rafe cameron.”

the name hits you like a ton of bricks, and your heart drops. rafe cameron? of all people? the one person you’ve managed to avoid for the past week after what happened in his dorm room. you have to tutor rafe again? and now he’s failing english too? it makes your stomach churn just thinking about it all.

“rafe?” you echo, trying to mask your emotions even though you know you’re visibly upset.

“yes, rafe," professor thompson confirms, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “he’s struggling in english, and with the upcoming exam, i think it would be beneficial for him to have your guidance. you’ve proven to be an excellent tutor, crawford’s said!”

“so you know from crawford that i’ve already tutored rafe cameron, professor thompson,” you say, “wouldn’t it be fair to let rafe be tutored by . . . someone else? we have this saying ‘true tutors take turns’!”

“y/n please, no one says that.”

you falter and drop your expression, deadpanning at the man before you. “okay but it makes sense.”

“i’d recommend you contact him as soon as possible. the exam is next week, and he could really use the help.”

you nod, your mind racing. you know you can’t refuse; it's your responsibility as a tutor. and you need the money. but the thought of breaking the silent treatment and being the one to have to approaching the other person first makes you uneasy.

“okay,” you finally agree, trying to sound more confident than you feel. “i’ll reach out to him today.”

“thank you, y/n. i knew i could count on you," professor thompson says with a reassuring smile.

you walk out of his office, the weight of the new assignment pressing down on you. what could possibly get worse? you wonder as you head towards your next class, already dreading the conversation you'll have to start with rafe.

as you walk across campus, your mind replays the events of the past few weeks. you think about the tutoring session that initially went surprisingly well, and how rafe had actually passed his humanities exam with flying colors. it was a side of him you hadn’t expected—one that was hardworking and capable.

the memory of congratulating him, only to be met with his mood swings, still stings. you still have no idea what that was all about.

you replay the moment in his dorm room over and over in your mind. you were only there to congratulate him on his A, and yet he accused you of hitting on his roommate. and you didn’t even mean to give him the silent treatment for this long, but his reaction had caught you off guard. and when he stopped trying to get your attention, it’s left you feeling strangely empty.

oh my, this is such a mess, you think. why does it have to be him?

you try to focus on the positive. maybe this is an opportunity to clear the air. maybe working together again will force you both to talk about what happened. or maybe it’ll just be another disaster waiting to happen.

your steps slow as you approach the library, where you’ll be hanging out until your next class. you pull out your phone, staring at rafe’s contact information. you hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen. what if he refuses? what if he’s still angry? or worse, what if he doesn't care at all?

taking a deep breath, you finally send a brief, professional message:

‘ rafe, it's y/n. thompson asked me to help u with ur english exam prep. let me know when ur available to meet ’

you hit send and pocket your phone, feeling a mix of dread and anticipation. there’s literally no turning back now.

you just hope that this time, things will go differently.

@svnsetcrve @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @lalalalala33 @darkcolorexpert @babyflockaaaa

[thedeafprophet]

Justice has been done ! Anyway - 4. ‘An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.’ For Josephine & September :)

1k words of this has been sitting in my drafts since February and i have at last fought my brain to finish it.

also on ao3

In Absense Of Moonlight

To say that Josephine Ashwood was a woman of habit would be an understatement of this stolen century. She has her afternoon tea when her pocket watch reaches 3:30 pm, she always keeps her slippers on the left side of the bed, and she always hangs her lab coat on the third hook in her office, with her goggles on the second. These routines, and many others, brought a sense of comfort to her. While some may find it ironic given her… other endeavours, having order, and knowing things were where she knew them to be, gave a sense of comfort to her. A reliability, when all things were irregular. 

When something was out of line, it brought a sense of foreboding. The idea that no matter how average a day was, something, at any moment, could pull that rug from under her. No, these routines were a must, and it was them that gave her a sense of security. 

This level of routine applied not only to her own, conscious actions, but bled deep within her underlying psyche- and this included the nature of her internal clock. Many mornings spent having woken early to prepare for lectures and student meetings and whatever bureaucratic nonsense The Dean had planned had led Josephine to wake up rather early in anticipation….

…regardless of what hour she had actually gone to bed, ignorant of whatever activities were actually planned for that day. 

In the here and now, Josephine could only be irritated at the inopportune awakening. She laid awake, staring up at the canopy of the bed, pondering whether she should return to the land of dreams, or just push to get up and active for the day. Goodness knows there were always more papers to write and forms to fill, lest anyone actually get anything productive done. 

She ran her hand over the soft fabric of the bed spread as she internally debated, ignoring the ache in her wrist that was always more profound first thing in the morning. The slight ruffle of the fabric was the only sound in the room - that, and the steady, reassuring breathing of the sleeping form next to her. 

If she had been a less just woman, she would have been inclined to place the blame of her late night entirely onto him. 

Josephine smiled softly as she rolled over to be face to face with where September still lay sleeping. An occasional visit had become happenstance, and happenstance to a frequent occurrence, a frequent occurrence to an almost weekly visit. The late hour had been a simple matter - September had brought a bottle of whiskey and a book of poetry to read aloud, the two had gotten into a debate on the intricacies of the metaphor of the work, and the rest, as they say, was history.

It wasn’t often that Josephine allowed herself to lose track of time in socialising. She would acquiesce on the fact that here, with September, was one of those rare exceptions. 

It was of course no surprise to Josephine that September was still sleeping while she had awakened, their schedules and sleeping hours so often disjointed. It bothered her not, as it gave her ample opportunity in being the one who woke first, to sit back and appreciate the view before her. Oh of course, the room was dark, and Josephine did not have her glasses, but she had long since learned to adapt to the night.

The dark brings no fear when you know what lies within it. 

Josephine reached out her hand towards him, gently cupping his cheek and tracing the lines of his face. He seemed so much softer, so much less animated in his sleep, that it would almost concern her were she not given ample evidence of his breathing. 

It was not too long ago, that together they had met within the woods, lost within the moonlight and its irrevocable images. It haunted Josephine, like a tide flowing through a crack in the wall, a small flow of unbidden memories of moonlight. 

The distant sounds of shouting, the possibility of a timeline of loneliness, a future of a so-called ‘should be’. It haunted her, that idea of a future so far out of her control, of a reality where she would lose yet another. She doesn’t care about anything else- whatever so called success and resolution it proclaimed to bring. It was not a future she would allow to come to pass. 

No matter how much she repeated the notion in her head, still that fear, those supplanted memories, continued to trickle. She couldn’t force them from her head. 

She reached out to place a hand on September's chest, to feel the rise and fall of his breath, the steady pace of his heart. Still here, for all that meant and all it would be, still here. Deep breaths, count to ten, try to refocus on the present. A future that had yet to come could be prevented, even if a vision couldn't be unseen. 

Whether it was from the contact or his sleeping mind picking up Josephine's tumultuous thoughts, all at once September began to stir, just as quickly as Josephine realised exactly how close she came to lean next to him. The sudden proximity of their faces made her the first thing he saw as his eyes blinked slowly opening, their lips meeting as he titled his head up. 

His lips brushed gently against hers, no intention in the movement beyond their close proximity. Josephine pulled back slightly at the sudden contact, worried at having disturbed him. 

“I'm sorry, I did not intend to wake you.”

“Aye, well ah think there's worse ways tae wake up.” His voice was still heavy with sleep as  he leaned back towards her. There was a twinkle of humour in his eyes that had Josephine smirking, before leaning back down with intention this time. 

Warmth blossomed in Josephine's chest as their lips met, September's hand moved to cup her cheek. A grounding, affectionate movement. His lips were warm and soft against her own, a contrast to where his beard rubbed against her skin. All at once her fears, though not fully abated, relinquished their hold. 

“Ye’ seemed so far awa’ love” his thumb stroked softly where he still cupped her face, and Josephine reached up her own hand slowly, coming to rest over his. “What’s troublin’ ye?”

“I’m nowhere but here love, I promise.” She meant it. At least for now, whatever now even means. 

“Well, ah do hope whatever is runnin’ round yer noggin this time can bide until the mornin’, ye need yer rest.”

A bubble of laughter burst through Josephine, who couldn’t help but giggle and dig at the matter “It is morning dear, which you would know if you’d chance to ever get to bed at a reasonable hour.” 

September looked bashful at the comment, but still made a move to defend his case. “Who decides when morning is anyways. This ol cave stays darker than ever, what is time but another rule enforced upon us!”

It's a sound argument, but the practicality of the matter defies it. “Be that as it may, one is expected to attend to certain duties at certain hours, and that cannot be ignored.”

September hums, but only settles back into bed more. “Perhaps, but surely it wouldn't do well tae be goin’ without proper rest, now would it.” He held out an arm in offering “Stay? If I've made my case tae ye enough, that is.” 

For a moment Josephine thinks on the duties of the day; the need to sort out lab paperwork she brought with her, the need to get back to London, the need to-

Oh to hell with it all. What's a few more hours of rest on a morning she didn't sleep the adequate amount for proper aptitude. No, it was much preferable, to lie back down and be swept up in her lover's embrace, held close and comfortable in this modicum of a safety net.

Perhaps here, her head against his chest as he presses a soft kiss to her forehead, she can at last get back to sleep.

[oakantony]

Yes, Chef

A completely uncalled for Hisoillu Chick-Fil-A AU. I honestly have no idea. Maybe I'll put it on AO3 one day idek. (It's in progress. Enjoy the rough draft.)

tws for this part include: neglect, financial abuse, verbal abuse, homophobia, ableism

future tws for this story will eventually include: canon-typical violence, explicit sex, possibly the raunchiest handjob i've ever written in my life

Enjoy!

-

It didn’t matter how accurately Illumi wrote the quarterly reports, how perfectly he arranged the weekly schedules, or how precisely he ordered supplies--his father would always fuck it up and leave Illumi there, alone, to clean up the mess.

In this case, literally.

His 15-year-old brother, Killua--middle child of the family and now shortest-lasting employee of their fast-food empire--had completely trashed the kitchen before giving his father, and Illumi, the middle-finger. “I quit,” he said as he stormed away. “Don’t expect to see me at home, either. I’m quitting this bullshit family, too.”

For some reason, Illumi believed him this time. Maybe it was the enormous backpack he carried with all his essentials--packed like he truly meant to move away. Maybe it was the new friend he’d found last month, whom he claimed had a bed big enough for the two of them to share. Maybe it was because Illumi, deep down, understood the sentiment.

Hm, no. Not that last part. Never that last part.

Illumi was loyal to his family until the end. How else was he meant to live? The vast fortune belonging to the Zoldyck family awaited him--so long as he continued to manage the business.

“He’ll come around,” said Silva in a gravelly, too-certain tone. He adjusted his suit jacket, looking perfect and statuesque despite everything. “He’s just in those hellish teen years.” He placed an enormous hand upon Illumi’s shoulder as a farewell and started to walk away, his long white hair swaying in a braid.

“Wait,” said Illumi. He swept a hand over the overturned prep station, the spilled jugs of peanut oil, and the broken dish sprayer dripping water down the side of the stainless steel cabinets. “We open in twenty minutes, do not have our pre-prep, and now we are down a cook.”

Silva raised one silver eyebrow. “I’ve trained all of my children to handle this. So handle it.”

He departed, checking his phone almost idly, utterly unconcerned. The pink sky of dawn winked through the door’s gap briefly before it sealed shut. Click.

Illumi hadn’t worked a fryer in almost six years. He took a deep breath and tied his long, straight, black hair into a high ponytail at the top of his head. He would have to net it before cooking, but this was fine for now. He’d debated cutting it many times previously--

But his father had long hair, and there seemed to be some sort of unwritten pride in maintaining hair like this even in a setting that would make short hair…simpler. And Illumi would do whatever it took to make his father proud.

Perhaps working the kitchen today will feel nostalgic, like back when I was a teen, he thought as he began to clean the kitchen. Quickly, efficiently, and well enough that most wouldn’t even be able to tell it’d been nearly destroyed. His first employee came in whistling, oblivious to the issues.

“Good morning, Canary,” said Illumi.

“Hi, boss,” she replied, bowing her head in greeting. She looked at the mop he held and across the kitchen, which was back to square zero--almost.

“Will you prep?”

“Oh no. Did the evening guys forget?”

“No,” said Illumi. “My little brother was meant to start his first ever shift this morning. Instead, he destroyed the kitchen.”

“Killua?” she asked, head tilted.

“That is correct.”

She hissed through her teeth in sympathy. “Yeah, I’ll get on that. Does that mean we’re down a man?”

“Do not worry. I will work the fryer today so that Amane will help take orders.” His watch trilled in warning. Sixty seconds before the doors open for the morning. He began to list off the things they needed: “Onions, tomatoes--lettuce is already shredded, but we need it pulled out from the walk-in--”

“Yes, yes. I got it, Mr. Zoldyck. You go check the front of house.” She held her hand out to take the mop. “I’ve done pre-prep at least a hundred times. I got the list memorized.”

The tightness Illumi didn’t even realize he had between his ribs began to loosen, allowing him to breathe in deep. Relieved. “Thank you. I appreciate you.” He would have to remember this moment when it came time for promotions next month--Canary was more than deserving of the assistant manager role. By the time he thought to say as much to her, however, a line of SUVs materialized very suddenly around the brown brick building, and several parents were standing at the doors.

Later, he noted to himself. He would tell her later.

He unlocked the door, held it open, and greeted, “Welcome to Chick-Fil-A.”

“Thanks,” said a particularly harried-looking mother as she stepped inside, holding the hand of a toddler covered in what Illumi hoped was dried chocolate.

“My pleasure,” he replied.

-

“It’s too bad you’re usually stuck at the front with customers, because you’re really good at this, actually,” said Gotoh. “I forget sometimes that you worked in the kitchen for years before taking over as manager.”

The timer chimed, alerting him that the chicken breasts were done cooking. “Father starts all of his children off as fry cooks,” said Illumi, deftly lifting the basket out of the pressure fryer. “This is a much simpler job than balancing books.”

Gotoh chuckled as he placed another tray of battered breasts aside Illumi, ready for the basket and fryer. “And you prefer cooking?”

Illumi watched the cooked chicken tumble into the shiny silver container and pondered the question. “No,” he said. “I prefer strategizing. My ideas are better than my food.”

“We don’t ever really use original ideas,” Gotoh pointed out. They had a set menu of items with some seasonal pulls and, on occasion, test products that came down from corporate. No one manager would have power enough to exact real change.

He knew as much. It didn’t stop him from scribbling restaurant concepts in the office after business closed, considering the popularity of certain items, the cost of ingredients--it was almost like a puzzle, but a creative and original one. “It is just idle thinking. Nothing I would ever do in reality.” 

Silva had made that abundantly clear during their last conversation on the topic. Illumi glanced up to the dented stainless cabinet door to the left of Gotoh, fist-shaped. It almost seemed to wink at him in cruel memory. Illumi still needed to get someone to come out to do that repair. City inspectors pointed it out on their last sweep; technically a dent didn’t break any laws, but visible damage in the building did pull their ranking from A+ to simply A.

Illumi changed into a new pair of gloves and began to prepare the next batch of chicken breasts. “After I drop these, will you wait for the timer? I need to check our applications.”

“Of course,” said Gotoh. “You managed to fill in on the fryer and post a job listing already?” He turned to look at the big digital clock over the kitchen door. “It’s not even one PM yet. You’re damn efficient.”

“That is what I am paid to do. Be efficient.” He lowered the basket into the fryer and made quick work of fastening the latch.

Gotoh chuckled. “You know, there’re rumors you and Milluki don’t even get paid for working at your father’s restaurants.”

“That would be ridiculous,” said Illumi. “And illegal.”

“Oh, I know,” said Gotoh. “Your father wouldn’t do something so disrespectful anyway.”

“Indeed.” Illumi got paid biweekly, just like everyone else. His checks were directly deposited into the family’s shared account. While he didn’t have his own card to use, his mother made sure to give him a handful of twenties each week as "spending money." It seemed fair enough; the rest of his income was likely used to pay the family's many bills. The allowance he was given was generous, really, considering he got to stay in his childhood bedroom rent-free. Not that he had much choice. He'd talked briefly about moving out a few years back and his mother burst into tears almost immediately--

He was going to be thirty next year. He would broach the topic then. Probably.

He pulled off his gloves and headed towards the manager’s office. “I will be back in twenty.”

“Take your time,” Gotoh called back without turning around.

-

His feet ached, his stomach growled in hunger, and sweat covered him head to toe, but Illumi nonetheless arrived at the isolated booth at exactly the correct time to interview the only real candidate he’d been able to find for the fry position in the last twelve hours. Already the qualified stranger sat, eating a complimentary order of fries.

Illumi took a minute to catch his breath, appreciating the soft plastic cushion beneath his seat. He actually had yet to sit today. He’d just hauled an enormous bag of trash to the dumpster, alone, and he’d nearly been crushed under the weight of used paper trays and styrofoam cups as exhaustion made his arms twinge and shake. “Hello,” he said, only slightly winded. “I am Illumi Zoldyck. Manager.”

“Hello. Long day, I see,” came the low, teasing voice of--?

Illumi looked down at the paperwork he snagged. Hisoka Morow. “My day has been fine,” he said, nearly believing it. “Busy. But fine.”

“Funny,” said Hisoka. “Mine has been exactly the opposite. Slow, but terrible. I’ve never been so bored in my life. Please hire me, if only to give me something to do.”

Illumi looked up, surprised, and took in Hisoka for the first time.

He was severe-looking, but unusually handsome still, with an angular face, doll-like smooth skin, and vividly pink hair. “We do not employ cooks with unnatural hair colors.” He took his pen, slashed through Hisoka’s name, and began to stand up. “Thank you for coming in.”

“That’s no problem,” Hisoka said, holding out a hand to stop Illumi from departing too quickly. “I read the rules linked in the listing. I wouldn’t’ve come here to waste your time, I assure you. I’m happy to wear a hat.” He shrugged. “I’ll cut it, too, if you insist.”

Illumi narrowed his eyes at Hisoka, giving him another once-over. He was clean-shaven--and clean in general, which counted in his favor. In fact, as Illumi lowered back into his seat, he realized Hisoka smelled very good. Fresh, warm, and a little sweet. It was a subtle scent--he’d not bathed in cologne like some interviewees of the past. “Very well. Your resume says you have extensive experience on the line at Revere.”

“An understatement made purely for legal reasons,” Hisoka said. “I was the sous.”

Illumi slowly lowered his pen to the paper, glaring at Hisoka in complete disbelief.

“It’s true,” said Hisoka. “I’m not allowed to include it in my credentials because of some, hm… issues with the chef there.”

Illumi tilted his head in thought. “Chrollo Lucilfer.”

“Oh, you know him.”

“K City is not that big. I know all the restaurateurs. They are our competitors.”

Hisoka laughed, and loudly. 

Illumi bristled and said, “I do not know what is so funny.”

“The idea of corporate--industrial--large scale fast food fried chicken considering itself in competition against one of the most elite Italian fine dining restaurants in the country is--” Hisoka’s smile turned catty. Sharp. “Quite unfair. It has a Michelin Star.”

Illumi was silent, mostly in shock, for a moment. And then he said, coolly, “Our business serves an average of 2,491 customers per day and earns upwards of eight million dollars per year. At this location alone.” Illumi tapped Hisoka’s resume with the end of his pen. “By my estimations, Revere earned a profit of under 1.2 million last year, and is slated for even less by the end of this one, and Lucilfer works in his kitchen every single night, 365 days per year, and has done so for thirty months so far. If you add the other stores in our portfolio, the Zoldyck business nets profit at almost ten million total without my father ever having to step foot inside these four walls. And we’re closed on Sundays.”

Hisoka blinked in a way that made it apparent he was tallying the numbers Illumi just shared. “You’ve done your research.”

Illumi continued, undisturbed, “You are right. It is rather unfair for me to compare Chick-Fil-A to Revere. We are not in competition.”

Hisoka slowly sank in his seat, a smirk growing on his face. He placed his chin into his hand and glanced Illumi up and down, as if reading the blue-striped polo uniform. “Interesting. Tell me--are you forced to wear the khakis, or is that something you’ve opted to do for yourself?”

Illumi stood up and wasn’t interrupted this time. He ripped the resume in two as he backed away from the table, words like ice. “This interview is over. You will not be offered the position. Thank you for your time.”

Hisoka called after him, voice a suggestive purr, “My pleasure, Illumi.”

-

Illumi stood in the doorway of his room, staring. Numb. The smell of burnt oil, of salt, of car exhaust lingered in his hair, under his nails; permeating him so entirely that he felt inhuman. He was, instead, a piece of sentient furniture from Chick-Fil-A. And he was so tired that he contemplated skipping the shower just to pass out (and clean his sheets the next day). 

But there was a problem with that plan. With any plan.

His door was gone.

“You’re going to stand there for how long, exactly?” said Milluki, his younger brother. Second oldest of the kids. Manager of the Byren neighborhood Chick-Fil-A--an under-performing, but still meticulously maintained, store. “You’re gonna have to go talk to them eventually.”

“You say, ‘them.’” Illumi turned to look at Milluki, all too aware that his dark circles and pale-sweaty skin made him look nearly sick. He had been awake for close to twenty two hours and pulled a double shift. “Mother and father both removed the door?”

“Maybe. I heard them talking.” Milluki took a slow sip of the iced tea he’d brought home from the shop. “Said they were mad you didn’t already have a replacement fry cook, or something.” He shrugged. “Really, they’re just mad about Killua, but he’s not here to be mad at.”

Illumi looked at his empty doorway. Half a hinge hung off the corner, bent from when his father must have wrenched the door away earlier. This wasn’t a rare punishment in their household. If a child behaved poorly, they got their door taken away. No privacy, at least until they served time for their crime. “I am to be punished for not posting a listing, finding a replacement, and placing him on the schedule by closing time.”

“Sounds like it,” said Milluki. “You really couldn’t find someone?”

Hisoka’s hot pink hair flashed in his mind, and then his feline smile, and his--wait, what color were his eyes? Illumi couldn’t recall. Eventually, he said,  “No.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna have a door until you hire the role. Or until Killua comes back.”

Illumi took a deep, steadying breath, and headed to his parents’ bedroom to listen to their complaints. And while his father berated him, shouting insults about his lack of focus--his patience being mistaken for fear--his affection for his staff being mistaken for condescension--his beautiful appearance being mistaken for vanity--

Illumi stared at his door, propped up on the far wall of his parents’ bedroom. It covered one of their windows, but they had several more in this wing of the fancy “McMansion” they had built after Illumi was born. 

“I won’t stand for your distraction,” Silva said with an air of finality. “Today’s failure is about your attraction to men. Isn’t it?”

Illumi blinked wide-eyed at his father. “I am sorry?”

“You’re gay, aren’t you?” his mother asked from the bed where she was tucked beneath the covers. “We’ve been discussing it. You’ve never liked a girl. Not ever. It’s because you’re gay.”

“And now your preferences are getting in the way of your judgment.”

This was so far out of left field that it took Illumi a moment to gather himself enough to say, “I am not gay.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

“I am not,” he repeated. “I simply have not had time to pursue a relationship.”

His father threw his hands into the air, exasperated. “Oh, so now it’s my fault you’ve never gotten laid. I’m a monster, giving you a good job, at a good establishment, making good food. Yes, I’m a fucking nightmare parent.” He pointed one large, well-manicured finger into Illumi’s face, and hissed, “You have no idea how lucky you are that you were born into this family. That your whole life has been served to you on a silver fucking platter.”

“I know,” Illumi said. “I am very grateful.”

“So don’t bullshit me on your utter lack of a social life.”

Illumi looked over at his mother and saw her flexing her jaw impatiently. Eventually, the connection between today’s failures and his sexual preferences bloomed, fully-formed, in his mind. “Oh. This is because Killua moved in with his best friend.” Pause. “His gay, male best friend.”

“No. This is about you,” Silva said.

“You are wondering about all of your children, now. Whether or not we’re also gay. Did you inquire with Milluki?”

“Milluki has a girlfriend,” his mother said, shrilly. “Online. He’s our only son that we know, for certain, isn’t queer.”

She wasn’t using the word the proper way, Illumi thought. It wasn’t a reclaimed term representing a community of different people. She meant it as an insult. “I do not have time to date,” Illumi repeated. And immediately amended, “I have not made time.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this,” Silva said, stalking closer. “If you ever bring a man anywhere close to this house, you’ll lose more than your door. Do you understand?”

Illumi lowered his head. “Yessir.”

“And hire a fucking fry cook by the end of the week. Don’t make me ask again.”

-

Inside the kitchen, a timer chimed from above and below. The roar of voices--chatting, taking orders, requesting items--pressed in from all sides. Distantly, two car horns honked.

Illumi pulled the fry basket and dumped the cooked chicken into the container and hissed as a splatter of hot grease grabbed him around the wrist. The handle to the fryer slipped from his fingers and clattered to the brown tiled floor, hand spasming in pain.

Another timer. More voices. Another honk.

“Mr. Zoldyck? Hey--Mr. Zoldyck?” He ignored the burning, pulsing pain and kneeled down to scoop the handle from beneath the cabinet where it’d slid away. “Illumi!”

He stood up, hair falling free of its net, and came face-to-face with Amane. “Yes.”

“We’ve got a complaint. She wants to speak with the manager.”

Illumi looked at the fryer, the alarm continuing to chime. “It will be a minute--”

“She’s throwing quite the fit, sir--”

There was a loud clatter--the sound of a tray hitting the tiled floors in the dining room--and an ear-piercing scream that Illumi knew, as the eldest of five children, belonged to an infant. 

Amane reached out to take the fryer basket handle. “I’ll take care of the food. Go ahead.”

Illumi shook his head to clear it--he felt dazed, still. Foggy from a lack of decent sleep. The real issue with not having a door was that his enormous family’s sleep schedules all varied, so he was shocked awake only an hour or two after he finally was able to fall asleep last night.

“Mr. Zoldyck, your hair--” Amane said.

Illumi reached up and found the hair net caught around his left ear. He tugged it free and threw it, and his gloves, in the trash. He strode through the kitchen, to the dining room, and was able to find the offending woman very easily. 

“It’s an allergy!” she shrieked. “An allergy! I told you she had an allergy and now my child has puked, and if you fucking retards think I’m cleaning that up, you have another thing coming!”

The infant, Illumi noticed, was wailing alone several feet away. Red-faced and trembling in her little red mary janes. "Mamamama," she sobbed.

Illumi approached the woman with one hand outstretched, directing her away from the cashiers. “I am very, very sorry for your experience.”

The mother's rant stopped as she found herself surrounded by Illumi’s tall, unusual presence. “What?”

Without missing a beat, Illumi also managed to scoop the child up, off the floor, and into his embrace. She was small enough that he could hold her with one arm. Her child’s shrieking stopped--almost immediately. The tension inside the restaurant broke, finally. Several patrons breathed out in relief.

Illumi patted the baby sweetly upon her leg and she stared at him with a wet face, frozen in childlike awe. She sniffed and Illumi produced a napkin--branded, of course, with the iconic chicken silhouette--and wiped her nose with the practiced ease of a five-time big-brother. He said to her mom, “I will comp your meal while you have a seat.” He gestured to the only available booth, walked her there, and handed the child into her arms. 

“Well, I’m not cleaning that mess.” The woman stiffly pointed to a watery pile of debris that had already been blocked off by a caution sign. 

“We would not expect you to,” Illumi said.

“Oh. Well. Good.”

While the restaurant went back to normal, Illumi felt truly exhausted. “In addition to your refund, you have received a ban. We will take your image from security footage and if you enter this establishment again, you will be escorted out. And if necessary, I will press charges for trespassing.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are not allowed to call my employees fucking retards without consequence.” He looked at her daughter. “Your baby is welcome whenever she would like--as soon as she is old enough to come without you.”

He escorted her to her bright red SUV and when she sarcastically said, “Thanks a lot,” he responded very sincerely in return.

“My pleasure.”

-

His back twinged in pain as he sat in the manager’s seat in the office--closet, really, with a desk--and scrolled through security footage to find a clear image of the newly banned patron. He found her, easily--and something else he hadn’t been looking for.

A flash of hot pink hair, a fanged grin, and a handshake.

With Gotoh?

Illumi watched as Hisoka walked with Gotoh out the far side door of the restaurant. He took a deep breath, printed off the saved image of the woman, and stormed out to the parking lot where Gotoh parked every day.

He sat in the front seat, sipping a shake, tapping away at his iPhone. He didn’t even notice Illumi until he opened the passenger side door and said, “Why were you meeting with Hisoka Morow during your lunch, Gotoh.”

Gotoh jumped in surprise and relaxed immediately when he realized it was Illumi bursting into his car. He placed the shake into his cup holder and gestured for Illumi to sit. “It was a request from your father. You know him?”

“He was the candidate I interviewed yesterday. And rejected.”

Gotoh’s face turned grave. “I had no idea.”

“And you met with him because my father said to do so.”

“He didn’t say you’d already interviewed him. He just said it was the only qualified candidate our location received and that I should court him--do whatever it took to get him on board--so I did.”

“Do whatever,” Illumi echoed. “And what does this mean.”

“He can keep his pink hair, as long as it’s under a hat, and he’s starting at twenty per hour. He also requested to work your same shifts, which I told him would be no problem, since you’re here every day. He begins tomorrow morning.” Gotoh lifted his phone. “Should I call and fire him?”

Yes, Illumi almost said. He frowned in thought. “You did not find him to be an unattractive candidate?” Gotoh seemed to relax, marginally, and Illumi realized he had been speaking clipped--angrily--before. He had an intensity about himself, he knew. He’d been told many times that his ‘vibes’ were, occasionally, ‘haunting.’ (Amane’s exact words.) Illumi softened a bit as he said, “I am sorry. I thought, briefly, that you were working for the enemy.”

Gotoh gave Illumi a thin-lipped smile. “I’m loyal to the last. If I’d known this was the same guy, I would have pretended to not have seen your father’s text about it.”

“You found Hisoka to be an acceptable candidate?” he leaned forward in the seat. “I found him to be abrasive, hostile, and ignorant about the industry.”

Gotoh clicked his tongue. “My impression is quite different. He seems too qualified, if anything. He’s definitely weird, but that’s why he’s gonna be in the back.”

“He did not like me,” Illumi said. “I do not think he will respect me as manager.”

Gotoh’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Again--my impression is…different.”

“Explain.”

“That was one of his stipulations, I said. He will only work shifts with you.”

“Why?”

“He has aspirations to run a restaurant of his own one day, he said. He wanted to learn from the Zoldycks themselves. I figured you’d enjoy having another employee with bigger aspirations within the company--when you’ll likely graduate to regional manager next month, you’ll need good minds here.” Gotoh rocked his phone back and forth midair. “But we can tell him ‘nevermind'. I’ll call him now.”

“No. It is fine.”

Gotoh hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Well, your shift is over, Lumi. You want me to drive you home?”

Illumi shook his head. “I need the walk.”

Gotoh scoffed. “Do you? You’ve been up since, what, five? It’s nearly three in the afternoon.”

No. He was very tired. Illumi gave Gotoh a small, slightly strained, smile. “Thank you, Gotoh. I will enjoy the walk. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Along with Hisoka,” said Gotoh.

Illumi left the car and ignored the way his back twinged, yet again.

[kytsuine-blog]

Ok so I'm going to do a better, Tumblr-focused writeup soon and also track down those blogs to talk about them more specifically, but I fell for a misinformation scheme today and want to talk about how and why. Here's an email I sent my little cousin about it.

This morning, I encountered a Tumblr post talking about the TikTok ban and the government's attempt to severely curtail digital privacy rights as part of it.

I had heard that the TikTok ban was currently up for debate in the Senate, after passing the House with strong bipartisan support. I was not surprised by the information in the screenshots; it matched with things I knew the government had tried to do often in the past, and often under similar circumstances. I looked up the bill linked to verify, and yeah, it was an active bill that had been introduced in the Senate. (I should have realized then that there was an issue with what I was reading, but in my defense it was about 6:00 AM, and I was just glancing over things in the parking lot before going in to work.)

Concerned for the digital privacy and security of my family, and especially the ones I can't just drive to, I drafted the following message to you:

"I haven't had time to read all the way through the RESTRICT act that the Senate proposed, but summaries I've seen indicate that as written it's a massive overreach. It's better known as the TikTok ban; the news has been focusing on that part as it passes through Congress so far.

I always sign my emails to you with my public key. Both of you should look up how to use PGP to send me encrypted emails with that. It may become even more important soon to normalize secure encryption in Internet communications, and there may also be things that we wish to discuss that state or federal laws may frown on in the future.

I planned to introduce topics related to computer and information security more gradually, but making sure that talking about those is possible at all is an important part of that.

Congress.gov page on the bill

Tweet thread"

(As an aside, I do still think that normalizing encryption is a very worthwhile thing to do; it makes the web a safer place for activists and informants needing a way to communicate without surveillance, without being singled out as enemies of the surveillance state.)

I then checked through the notes of the Tumblr post to see if there was more context I wanted to share, and noticed people who called out a detail that I missed. That post was first posted in March of 2023, a little over a year ago. It refers to an entirely different bill than the TikTok ban which is currently going through the Senate, one which activists successfully stalled (and likely killed) last year. This year's bill is much more targeted (though, as implemented, I still have issues with it); its text can be found here.

This is a classic example of how misinformation spreads. I did not have bad intent when I went to share that commentary on last year's bill with you, and I did not find it from someone with bad intent (in fact, she subsequently shared a commentary I posted on the actual bill, in reply to her original incorrect post.) From what I can tell, on March 14, a number of mostly inactive politically-focused blogs all shared that post directly from the original poster (not from someone who had it in their feed, like a normal Tumblr interaction). Each of these was tagged with fairly popular political tags. None of these blogs has posted since, keeping it at the top of their page to get more eyes on it.

Misinformation is spread deliberately, and it takes caution and checking of your biases to combat it. I almost fell for this one because I expected it to be true. I should have checked on it before sharing anything at all. Looking at it now, I ask: who benefits from this?

Most directly, proponents of the current TikTok ban benefit from activist efforts being directed towards a functionally dead bill. This, apparently, includes the strong majority of the House, on both sides of the aisle; it may be assumed that it also includes the government's surveillance agencies (as it is easier to compel data from American companies than from foreign ones, particularly Chinese ones). It could also include other social media sites, especially those like YouTube and Instagram that compete directly with TikTok in the realm of algorithmically driven short videos.

More abstractly, though, this misinformation benefits the status quo, and conservatism as a whole. By causing people who are invested in the TikTok ban (mostly left-leaning people) to engage with more stringent and concerning bills, stress is increased on activists and burnout becomes more likely. Targeting the mental health of left-leaning activists is a tactic we've seen multiple times recently in misinformation campaigns; another example is the "the Guardian is doing a story on DIY HRT" hoax that recently circulated among my trans friends. This type of stressful lie misinformation serves the dual purpose of causing activists to burn out and decreasing trust among communities that share it.

This is a new specific strategy to me, but the solution is the same as ever. Check your sources when you speak publicly, check how your biases affect what ideas seem "clearly correct", and aim for your statements to maximize quality, rather than quantity. That's a discipline I still need to refine, but it's not hard. Just requires a bit of diligence.

[acourtofthought]

regarding your previous anon I just wanted to say that in a fairly recent livestream/interview deal she did in the last few years she said 'not much has changed since my initial drunken ramblings in the beginning' I'm paraphrasing there, but I don't think she's gonna make any big ship changes when she's close to wrapping up the series (also it was so funny to see e/riel's being all over that like it was ever planned from the beginning lololol)

YESSSS!!!!

If you ever find out exactly which one that was, I would love to know because I remember hearing that but have since forgotten where so I was never able to include a screenshot or link in my posts. She said "not much has changed from that initial pitch but the world has now expanded".

If we think back to that drunken rambling and when she pitched her ideas to her then editor, we were told a few things.

She said she knew who the first two spin-off books would be about but she was keeping the third open. For the third, she was debating between 5 possible ships and was considering a book set Pre ACOTAR.

That particular drunk lunch took place in 2016 (I'm guessing) as she was still drafting ACOWAR.

If, in 2016, she knew who the first two spin-off books would be about then logically, who did that mean?

Nesta and Elain. Especially when she says in multiple interviews she would love to tell the sisters stories one day and we know she had already done research for Elain's book while pregnant with her first child who was born in June of 2018.

Who also had the most buildup as a possible love interest for the sisters in ACOMAF / ACOWAR? (around the same time she said she knew who she wanted the first two books to be about?).

Cassian and Lucien hands down. Lucien's ENTIRE story in ACOWAR was based around worrying for Elain's safety, fighting his way to be by her side, helping her through her depression, going after an army based on her vision, giving her time to deal with her engagement to Graysen, running all the way from the shore to find her after battle, his having met her father, her inviting him back to Velaris, him standing beside her during the meeting at the end of the book.

Az and Elain might have had a few "moments" in ACOWAR that E/riels use for their proof of endgame but Az was still 100% in love with Mor when you consider that he still looked at her with hunger in ACOFAS while Elain was sitting in the room with him. The question at the end of ACOWAR was not "will Elain and Az get together" but "what will Elain and Lucien do about her mating bond now that she invited him back to Velaris". When the author wasn't sure who was getting the third book and everything suggests Elain was getting the second, all signs pointed to Elain and Lucien as the main POV especially when you consider that as an individual Lucien also had way more buildup than Az in ACOWAR. He was SA by Ianthe, chased out of his home in Spring, was feeling sadness over not having a home when Feyre slipped into his head, guilt over Jesminda, the pull to Elain, the reader (but not Lucien himself) finding out Helion is his actual father, and he fought in his first war. SJM left us with too many unresolved plots for Lucien to not give him a book.

It wasn't until after the release of SF and she was discussing it that she made the comment above "my plan for the intial spin-offs didn't change but the world expanded."

And you know what expanded?

Az suddenly got a bit more of a mysterious background, he got a bonus with hints of a possible mating bond, and SJM introduced the possibility of time-travel what with Merrill's research and the Trove's ability to open doors between worlds. Az ended up connected to the crossover.

THEN it was later announced that she was contracted for additional books (and maybe a new series).

If her intial plan didn't change then Nessian and Elucien were always going to be resolved first and now Az's romantic arc / journey is the direction she decided to take things after finishing the main story of the Archern sisters.

Yes, Az and Elain nearly kissed and had a harmless flirtation going on but it never got off the ground did it?

Ever since the Elucien bond snapped into place, the real question has not been "will Elain and Az end up together" but "will Elain and Lucien end up accepting their mating bond?" And just as SJM had Nesta share experiences with others before ending up with Cassian, she had Elain attempt to have an experience with Az but I don't think he was ever meant to be more than a slight detour in the Elucien journey so as to make their path to one another a bit more tension filled. And I think the reason SJM introduced Az's possible mate in his bonus is that she didn't want readers to feel bad for him for too long because even though she's on track for an Elucien endgame, we know that Az isn't going to be sad for very long as he's got his own mate waiting in the wings.

[goingferalapparently]

Do you want to hear me talk about The Animatic? No? Well that sucks because I'm talking about it anyway.

I don't know what made me suddenly want to make a full length animatic, but the urge descended upon me and I did anyway, despite my horrible horrible track record.

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I'd actually had a couple voice clips cut out since July (because that's when I started Jealousy), but the bulk of it was done 15/16 August. And! This song (Pentatonix's God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen) is actually the second one I tried piecing together.

The first song was AURORA's Runaway! I swapped songs pretty early on because

Runaway was 4 minutes long and God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen was 2.5 minutes long

3 minutes in, I ran out of voice clips.

I used a lot more voice clips for Runaway than God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, not just because it's longer but also because the song is significantly slower and thus easier to fit voice clips in it. Not just more voice clips, but the voice clips were longer too.

(God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen had 9 source clips. Runaway had 15.)

Hindsight is 20/20 though, because due to the slow-paced nature of Runaway in comparison to God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen would have resulted in far less frames needing to be drawn, or precise cuts or-

Well, you get the point.

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I have two files for this project! Yes, it was pure Medibang. The reason for the two files is that there were so many layers that the first file was lagging to hell and back and I couldn't even draw a straight line because of how bad it was.

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This was the actual first frame I ever drew for this! If it looks familiar, it's because I was mirroring this. It's my first ever fanart for QSMP.

At the time of starting this, I had maybe 3 pieces of QSMP fanart and was super uncertain of what I was doing, so it definitely happened again - mirroring a piece of fanart into an animatic frame.

●～●～●～●～●

This was the first time I ever drew Cucurucho. I had an idea and it was simple to execute but over time I forgot about the voice box.

This, on the other hand, was the last frame I ever drew. The Cucurucho designs are largely the same, with some minor differences (bigger eyes, more stitches, no voice box, thinner tube).

●～●～●～●～●

This was the first time I successfully drew Cellbit. Emphasis on successfully because even this one bit took me forever. I never really had to redraw any frame once I drafted it, but this. This took me 5 redraws. It was my greatest nightmare.

●～●～●～●～●

I've said it before but these two frames side by side?

It was my favourite part of the animatic for the longest time. Hands down, no debate, I adored it.

●～●～●～●～●

You may notice that most frames had the subjects coloured in a lighter colour, but a couple didn't. Some were intentional, to better show off lighting and backgrounds and depth and stuff.

Some.... were not.

(Oops.)

●～●～●～●～●

Some of my other favourite frames include:

Which would have been better if I hadn't messed up the shading.

Because this was so many characters. And Cellbit.

And the Bagheras, which I really had a ton of fun drawing near the end. Because these two were drawn at the end. The same day, actually. The first one did have a draft already, though.

●～●～●～●～●

Some little details:

Between these two frames, BBH and Cellbit pop up in the background. There's a flash of white immediately after, which is supposed to be the camera flash when BBH takes a photo.

••●••

Jaiden (and Roier) in the early scenes have perfectly normal eyes.

This changes immediately after Bobby's death, albeit rather subtly.

By the time the beginning of the Cucurucho tasks rolls around, the shadows under their eyes have had time to develop and become more prominent.

••●••

Roier does a little rooftop espionage.

••●••

Similar/Similarly located scenes have similarly coloured backgrounds!

It's most prominent with Bobby Fields' Rose/Lavender palette, with a few (not all) examples.

(The words associated with this last image are actually from when Jaiden got stuck on a ladder on her way down from the sunset tree while trying to chase Cucurucho. I just found that funny.)

But the colour thing is also key with Baghera and Jaiden's conversation with Pomme's non-canon death.

The colours used for 1) the gradient background 2) the lineart and 3) the subject base colour are identical in both images, even if they're a third of the video apart.

●～●～●～●～●

Anyway, this was made with Medibang and iMovie, even if I do have Krita and DaVinci Resolve and FlipaClip and-

.........Yeah.

Tried and true basics, I guess.

(Krita and DaVinci both cause my laptop to overheat. I struggle with Krita so incredibly badly, even though I have friends who swear by it.)

●～●～●～●～●

Also I maxed out the image count on this post.

[cinnamon-bunni]

hm... 4, 7, 11, 12, 17, 21, 22, 24! happy new year, bunni!

4. Total number of words you wrote this year That's hard to find tbh....I didn't end up posting a lot of fics, so i dont only have to just check my statistics on ao3, but all of my possible fics ive written this year in my wip docs as well. the total i got was 58,171 words (~35k of it being WIPs and not posted)! so definitely not as much as i wrote last year which was (i think over 100k), and also not including all of my notes ive written. i did not do a lot of writing this year, so hopefully next year i'll wrap up all of my big fics and post them all <3

7. longest completed fic you wrote this year Again, i did not write a lot this year, much less finish them lmao. if you were to ask about uncompleted fics, we would have a different story--but alas, the longest completed one was Once More, With Needles, sitting at 4,414 words!

11. fandom you enjoyed writing for the most this year hm....obey me, I suppose. its hard to say really, but enjoyment from writing specifically, i'd have to give it to obey me. what can i say, the cast is just really fun to write (even when levi is impossible to write, like what the hell man i have rewritten your part in my undead fic like 3 separate times and am continuing fixing it, like what the hell man i trusted you and then you dont behave for me). like this year specifically i realized how much i love each and every character--those like lucifer reminded me as to why i love the game and the characters, and people like mephisto and raphael randomly won a spot in my heart. theyre all just so so fun to write <333

12. favorite character to write about this year lucifer!!! even though i only have like, one fic that features him thats out and finished lmao; hes such an interesting and complex character, yet is one whose mind i can easily slip into when i need to write when its his pov. idk, sometimes i find myself struggling to write characters like levi or even asmo sometimes--mainly from my own failures to pay attention to their canon interpretations and making them not out-of-character--but lucifer is surprisingly one i can always rely on to be easy and fun to write!! he is angst galore and so emotionally constipated, hes great <3

17. fics you’ll continue next year Heart Melts for sure!! i originally wanted ch3 to be out before the new year, but ive been drafting and redrafting all of my future chapters (i am trying my best to make it a psychological horror in order to match the tag that i put on the fic, but idk if its going to live up to the hype that people have for this fic ^^;;) so i sadly didnt get time to finish it. maybe by the end of January ill have it out--heres to hoping its done by then! and maybe i might continue Dirty? I didn't even update it this year lol--its def one i dont wanna leave discontinued, as i have all of the chapters planned out, but i just have many other projects that i wanna focus on and also i really wanna rewrite it, so ive been debating doing that first or just to finish then rewrite it. in a perfect world, i'll update that one too lol

21. most memorable comment/review I have two that come to mind!!! in all honesty all comments make me sooo happy, but these ones specifically is just,,,idk man, they just hit a certain way that itches that scratch in my brain that needs validation lmao i love rereading these all the time <3 theres these comments for Messy Makeup:

(make me go insane from them saying i wrote multiple fics that were their favorites <33) and of course there's this banger of a comment from @/snugglebunnies!!! idk if youre reading this but thank you thank you thank you for inspiring me so much with your fics!!! i love them so much, and this comment was just incredible! from the fic Heart Melts:

(love when people leave quotes, no matter how long or short!!!! such deep analysis is what i live for!!!!) and of course, sending out so much love to everyone who leaves a comment on any of my fics, no matter how big or small they are <333

22. events you participated in this year i didnt participate in any events this year! i tend not to do events tbh, theyre not really my style, as i dont do well with due dates unless i have months in advance lol;; usually i might do one, maybe two, events a year, but those are usually simple gift exchanges or something. nothing caught my eye this year, and ones that did i just didnt have the time to do, sadly. but! i do plan on doing the sonic big bang next year, which will be my first ever "bigger" event ive been in! exciting, but also really nervewracking as ive never posted sonic content and idk how well i'll do staying on schedule. but its still something i really wanna do (have a great fic planned for it!) so i still wanna give it a shot and do my best on it lol

24. favorite fic you read this year from this year is really hard to say--i think all of my favorite fics were found last year lmao so its a struggle to think of one. @heleentje's BOTW fic Moonlight has been a fantastic read (even though i havent finished it yet;;; i promise will soon!!) and just hits all of the right notes for me!! The batman fic Performance Piece is also definitely up there for me, as it captures so well what i want in my own writing when it comes to writing characters, especially when it comes to inner-dialogue (i might just go back and reread that one again lmao)

as of posting, i have about twenty minutes left before the new year. so happy early 2024!! 🥳🎉💝

[jahayla-parker]

who are some of your favorite mutuals and why

Hi my lovely little anon!

Ahhh that’s not super easy! Buuut, I’ll go with:

(in alphabetical ordering 🥰) [also moots, I left your actual names off and just did usernames, cause I didn’t know if you wanted that out there!)

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r

Super sweet, protective, responsive, encouraging, similar interests, ADHD buddy, Freddy and Kaz simp buddy!, fills my dashboard with GIFs of my husband Freddy, etc. 🖤

#BbB🎩☺️

@ell0ra-br3kk3r

Puts up my craziness, super sweet, responsive, proofreads my drafts to give feedback, keeps me young haha, my moodboard buddy, Freddy and Kaz simp buddy!, talented writer, Jesper and Nikolai simp buddy!, Taylor Swift buddy, etc. 💜

#ElB🦯🎩 or #littlesisel

@emmymaehereeeeee

So open and honest, respectful but doesn’t put up with bs from internet trolls, my “Ducks and Sunflower” buddy, Austin Butler simp buddy, talented writer, so sweet and funny, etc. 🖤

#ducks and sunflowers 🦆 🌻 and #emmy Mae 💎

@galaxyholland

First, bubbs I miss you being on here 😭 okay, I digress:

Oh my goodness, one of my first handful of followers on here, so unbelievably supportive, always reblogged my works from day one without having to ask, sweet and talented, Holland & Peter simp buddy!, etc. 💜

#galaxyholland🌌

@justapurrcat

Okay, I miss you on here sm too bby! 😭 again, I digress:

Ahh, one of my very first followers as well, talented writer, provides such helpful feedback and constructive criticism, major sweetheart, kitten/cat lover buddy!, Tom/Peter simp buddy, fellow purple obsessed buddy, always reblogs people’s work with the cutest annotations, fellow lily lover (why’s there no emoji of any lilies?!) etc. 🖤

#Justapurrcat😻 and #LiLi💜

@lilisouless

Side note, that transition ^^^ is uncanny lol

Supportive, open minded, engages in debates, SAB and SoC polls, SAB/SOC simp buddy, comfortable critiquing and debating SAB/SOC books/TV/book -> conversion accuracy/characters/etc., keeps me thinking and living my SoC hyperfixation dream lol, funny, etc. 💜

#lilisouless👻

@theslayerofthevampires

So very supportive and interactive, very understanding, provides feedback on my work, one of my first few followers as well I believe, Tom/Peter simp buddy, comfortable chatting about anything and everything, creative, etc. 🖤

#theslayerofallthevampires🧄❤️

@toms-gf

Tehehe I’m so glad you’re back and active again, I missed you bubs!

Fun, talented writer, motivating, one of my first followers and followed me over from my other account (tumblr has hated me from day one and that account didn’t last long before I got locked out, and I hadn’t posted any works of my own yet), hilarious, runs -what she calls- a “whore house” including for Tom and Peter, sweet, etc.💜

#toms gf💖

And of course all moots are tagged with #mutuals👯‍♀️

This was fun, thank you! And to anyone not listed who’s a moot, I still lysm, we need to chat more! 🖤

And mwuah to all my followers! If you wanna be a moot, lmk and let’s interact more!💜

[cwarscars]

Beep, beep. I've came with some kind of positivity and hopefully it will help in some way. I know it is hard right now to deal with everything, especially dealing with a death of a family. You already know this by now, but just know you go at your own pace. Don't force yourself to chat if you aren't feeling up to it. Don't force yourself to reply if you can't have the energy or heart to do so. Many of us, including myself, are happy to have you around and is happy to have you exist. At the same time, while I can't talk for everyone (and I am sure they may agree), we also want you to take care of yourself. <3

It's okay to be down in the dumps for a while. Grieving is never easy and doesn't have a linear timeline. Some days you will be okay. Other days you aren't. Don't push yourself to be okay if you aren't. A reminder that I am always here if you need anything. Just a message away. Or if you need any sort of distractions or anything I could do to help, I am happy to help out.

(( thank you for this, beck - i really debated whether to post this or just keep it close but i can save it in my happy tag to come back to.

i can't lie - it's been hard, probably harder than i imagined. at first, i kind of took everything in my stride. like my dumbass muses, i have sort of a 'don't show weakness' thing going irl but it bites me in the ass a lot. when things happened, i was the one who had to inform half of my family, later that day i saw him, gone. at the time, i thought i could handle it but now i keep thinking back and it really sucks.

it's been over two weeks & i truly think i feel worse now than i did then. it's a real mix of emotions that i wont go too much into but tumblr wise - i've felt guilty not being as enthusiastic or active. writing's been harder ( though i did get my drafts done, so that's something at least! ) but yeah, it's been tough in some respects. people i spoke to a lot have kind of dipped from talking to me and i'm taking it personally. others, i dont expect to know what to say but i resent myself for being weird or quiet to them

but / enough of me moaning, i think aside from being frank - what i wanted to say is thank you for this. truly. i know it doesn't mean much simply saying a thank you, but i really mean it from my heart. i read this when you initially sent it and it made me cry. and for once in the last few weeks, not in a bad way. it just eased things for me a little. you're such a kind and positive person to have around & i'm grateful for your attitude and your kindness. even going out of your way to send me this was incredibly sweet - it means more to me than you probably know. i'm incredibly appreciative to you reaching out & even simply seeing vasco and your love for him on my dash has been bringing a little smile to my face while browsing, so don't worry there about providing distraction, heh.

i know i keep saying it but - thank you again. this was really kind of you. you're wonderful. ♥ ))

[tryst-art-archive]

Suite Francaise Creative Writing Assignment

I remember almost nothing about Suite Francaise other than it was assigned reading for AP English. Apparently there was a creative writing assignment based on it? Anyway, here that is:

            “One moment everything’s fine, and the next we’re stuffing our crap in suitcases,” she muttered. Where was her sweatshirt? Was it in the wash? She needed her sweatshirt!

            The girl pounded down the stairs to the first floor and then down to the basement, rushing past her mother who was hastily flying to the master bedroom with a load of bathroom products in her arms. The girl dashed into the laundry room, dug hastily through the clothes scattered on the floor and let out a groan. She checked the clock – two hours until they had to be gone. It might be enough to wash the clothes they needed.

            She gathered together the dirty laundry, destroying the careful separation of lights, darks, and whites and threw the mass into the washing machine. She hastily set it, filled it with detergent, and sent it running before speeding over to the gaming system. The cabinet she flung open, and the memory cards for the games she took and shoved into her pockets. The older games – the games from the last version of the system which was now some ten years old – she gathered together and held to her chest.

            She stood, bouncing from foot to foot with the sense of urgency that flooded her senses. Was there anything else she needed from the basement? What down here couldn’t she replace?

            Nothing came to her mind but she hesitated a moment longer to be sure. Still nothing.

            She ran back up the stairs and into the computer room, pausing here to gather up her flash drive and the disks on which she had backed up her important files. It occurred to her that the art, writing, and web projects that were saved on those disks did not include the last month’s work so she stopped and began the process of burning a new disk.

            While it burned, she looted her school bag for anything worth saving. Out came iPod and sketchbook followed by her wallet and her cell phone – the later only because she thought she might have need of it later. She debated grabbing her digital camera, decided to bring it, and hung it off her wrist from its strap. Then she turned to the bookshelf and took off the binder containing drafts of a novel and all of the other notebooks containing her works and notes that happened to be there. The disk finished burning and she dashed back upstairs, struggling not to drop any of the mass of items she carried.

            She dropped the objects on her bed, emptied her pockets, and rushed to the corner of the room in which she kept her tens of sketchbooks. She lifted them up with some effort and dropped them on her bed as well. Then she turned to her filing cabinet and removed some seven years’ worth of drawings on copy paper from its draws, placing these on her bed as well.

            The girl paused then, listening to the sounds of her parents’ rushing to and fro in their own effort to save what was important. She turned to her suitcase and forced the mass collection of her creative works into its body. There was some space left so she unplugged the twenty-five-year-old gaming system from the thirty-year-old TV in her room and placed it in the suitcase as well. It was followed by its associated games and wires.

            This filled the main body of the suitcase so she zipped it up and began to fill its outer pockets with the sketchbooks and cartridges and disks that did not fit into the main body. She then rushed to the computer room once more, taking a pocketbook from its place on a door handle. In moments, she had returned to her bedroom and was filling the pocketbook with her iPod, her wallet, her current small sketchbook, and the other paraphernalia that she carried with her wherever she went. Even her house key found its way into her bag, though she doubted she would have need of it later.

            The girl scanned the room, looking for other irreplaceable mementos. Her eyes fell on her collection of Beanie Babies – much loved as they were. Her immediate urge was to pack the lot of them, but there simply wasn’t space in her baggage for all one hundred of them. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and picked the six that she would miss the most if she lost them: Flip, Chip, Snip, Zip, Nip, and Doby. They had been the center of the “town” she had imagined, back in the day, and they had been her favorites. She needed them.

            The six plush toys were deposited into her old duffle bag from back in the days when she lived in Stoughton and attended the Dawe elementary school. Another scan of her room added the Beanie Baby Howl to the mix. He was, in turn, followed by a stuffed fox that was of some significance due to a particular raccoon-fox exchange between the girl and her best friend. An anthropomorphic rabbit in Victorian garb was soon plucked from her shelf and placed in the bag as well even as the two largest stuffed animals – PJ Bunny and Frederick the Dalmatian – were removed from the bed and placed atop the suitcase.

            Having removed these essentials from harm’s way, the girl returned to more practical matters. She took her various small, glass sculptures, wrapped them in a scarf, and, reopening her suitcase, shoved them into what seemed to be a safe corner. She then gathered the small metal pieces she had constructed and, wrapping these as well, placed them in her bag. Her clothes she forced into tiny spaces in the suitcase and duffel.

            Her mother was taking care of the bathroom accoutrements so the girl ran her hairbrush and other necessary morning items over to her mother to be included in the bathroom bag before returning to her room. Here she grabbed a selection of necklaces from her jewelry box, stuffing them haphazardly into her bag.

            She checked a clock. An hour left.

            The laundry must be done by now.

            Half a moment later, she was in the basement, forcing the half-washed clothes into the dryer and setting it running. She returned to the ground floor in time to scoop up her cat and place the animal in a carrying crate. She then ran to the fish tank, dumped half a container’s worth of food into it, and hurried to a closet to gather her coat, a serviceable pair of sneakers, and any other necessary outdoor items.

            She paused again. What about her flute? She hadn’t played it in an age, there was no space for the music books, and she couldn’t play it without notes written before her…

            She grabbed it and dashed upstairs.

            How she found a single inch of space in her bags to place a single item that she carried was a mystery, but she achieved the packing feat nonetheless. Presently, she began the process of bringing her bags to the dining room on the ground floor. On the way, she realized she was missing all of her photographs, artworks given her by her best friend, and a host of other paper memorabilia.

            She bit her lip, shook her head. No. She couldn’t fit it. There was too much of it. A crateful not to mention what was on the walls, and if she brought one thing she’d have to bring it all…

            The walls! She herself had artwork on the walls!

            And the folder with her portfolio materials behind her bed! There was that too!

            The girl performed a dance usually reserved for those in dire need of a toilet and then dashed around the house, gathering the images from the walls, adding them to her suitcase. She flew back to her room, grabbed the portfolio, massive though it was, and added it to her pile of baggage.

            Oh, there was far, far too much.

            She glanced at a clock.

            Half an hour. The laundry wouldn’t be done yet.

            What else was there?

            She thought, irrationally, about bringing her bicycle. She shook the madness from her head and attempted to think more seriously.

            Utterly irrelevant items popped into her brain. There was something, she knew, something that she was forgetting, something she would miss. What was it? Why could she only think of snacks and glow sticks? She shook her head again. It would not clear. Her mind, which under normal circumstances could keep her awake from midnight to three a.m. with no difficulty, ran at full-tilt. It was quite possible that thoughts were flying through her mind at the speed of light.

            “Cat food,” she said. She grabbed the bag of cat food and, as an after-thought, also went in search of one of the jingling balls that the cat adored. These, along with a harness and leash which she had bought with the intention of bringing her fearless indoor cat outside, she placed in a plastic bag.

            There were now ten minutes left.

            She bolted to the basement, stopped the dryer, and dumped her damp clothes into another plastic bag. Too bad if they stank.

            Five minutes left.

            She flew up the stairs, grabbed the bags she could carry, and began forcing them into the trunk of her mother’s car which was already partly full of her parents’ things. The rest of her things she put in the back of her father’s truck and in the back seats of the two vehicles. She planned to be in her mother’s car and, thus, ensured that the manuscripts, art pieces, and disks would be with her.

            As she gazed at the over-full vehicles, it occurred to her that there simply wasn’t space for the cat’s crate.  The thought of leaving her cat behind sent her into panic. She dragged the harness and leash from her baggage and returned to the house. She opened the cat’s crate, chased and cornered the animal, and forced it into the harness with no small amount of difficulty. After another chase, she got the leash hooked onto the harness, picked the cat up, and deposited her in the car.

            She faced the house. Her parents were dashing out of it, their last bags in hand, and locking it. Her father ran for the truck which contained the majority of the collective baggage while her mother hopped into the car. The girl got in on the passenger’s side, bringing her anxious cat into her lap.

            The two vehicles rolled out of the drive, shaken by the blast wave of the first bomb which fell a mile and a half away.

This is archival work from my teens. You can find my current work @tryskits and @tryskits-art

[jacensolodjo]

#he also intended it to fit with what happened to indigenous peoples all over and black ppl i the US/ in their#colonized nations in Africa#the 5 world powers all had committed genocides at that point and didn’t want to have it affect them retroactively so they forcibly changed#the legal language from the bill of human rights to the declaration and did a whole bunch more to fuck with the definition so that it could#only fit Germany’s actions#but yeah.#I love that man. he and Ben ferencz mean everything to me

I think you're conflating the Convention with We Charge Genocide in 1951 for Black Americans. To say nothing of the fact that you are trying to spread blame away from being on the USSR by insisting everyone else was against the full definition, too. This is patently untrue. In the United States' case at the very least they did not wish to have their 'autonomy' taken away, in other words they didn't want to be beholden to the world in general not just when it comes to genocide. It is also recognized in the minutes and everything else that the USSR being as powerful as it was despite all its losses during the war that the definition absolutely had to be changed in order to please them and let the Convention move further. They are not guilty of objecting to the definition, they are guilty of capitulating to the USSR.

Lemkin (z"l) may have recognized what all was going on in the US (he did in fact move there later on in life) but his sole drive was to have his full definition made official entirely to smack the USSR with the Convention because of the Holodomor. But, like I said in the initial post, if there was any other thing he was trying to get people to see is that there had been an Armenian Genocide that is also still denied today as much as the Holodomor and he also helped build a case against the French for Algeria but that's pretty much it.

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) came before the Bill of Human Rights (technically the former was actually slid into the latter) and 48 voted in favor with none against but 8 abstained. Wanna know who abstained? The Soviet Union including Ukraine SSR and Byelorussian SSR. Along with Yugoslavia, Saudi Arabia, Poland, Czechoslovakia, and South Africa. The very last one had a representative who objected to the 'right of dignity' part because of Apartheid though. So there is that I guess. But still not the same as people objecting to Lemkin's initial definition especially when he had no involvement in the UDHR.

The Declaration and Bill of Human Rights are also aspirational documents, not law binding ones in addition to genocide not really being a focus save for you know the right to not be a victim of such hatred. And again, Lemkin had no involvement with either of them, his task was entirely the Convention on Genocide. The man who initially drafted the UDHR was a French Jewish man by the name of René Cassin with John Peters Humphrey of Canada being the man in charge. And I'm kinda curious where you're getting 'five world powers' unless you mean initially but even then the big two of the USSR and UK weren't even there. The UDHR was initially chaired by people from the US (Former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt mostly), France, Canada, China, and Lebanon. Later people from Australia, Chile, USSR, and the UK. None of whom are Raphael Lemkin. The Convention is the sole law binding document out of the three and thus had the most debate. The Bill of Human Rights didn't even become official until 1976 after being completed a decade earlier. Raphael Lemkin, of blessed memory, passed in 1959 sadly believing he had actually done nothing to raise awareness for the Holodomor. And again, it was a fellow Jew involved with the UDHR, not him. So if any of the powers that weren't the USSR were guilty of one thing it was breaking Lemkin's heart before he passed.

Every once in a while, I think about how Raphael Lemkin, a Polish (and JEWISH, this is important) man who coined the term ‘genocide’ never kept quiet about “yes, USSR, I DO mean the Holodomor counts, too!” How the USSR blocked every attempt to make the official definition include what happened to Ukrainians in the early 1930s. That the only way it got approved for the use in legal trials and such like Nuremberg was because everyone bowed to USSR’s pressure to hide their evil doing. 

The man went to his grave fighting to call Holodomor a genocide. Just like the Holocaust. Just like the Armenian Genocide. 

This isn’t some bullshit ‘death of the author’ or what the fuck ever. This is telling a man who had very clear rules in mind for what counts that he’s WRONG about a thing HE CAME UP WITH. 

In essence:

A Polish Jew creates the term ‘genocide’. Everyone tells him he’s wrong about the definition of a term he created. He knew exactly what he was doing when he created the term and gave the examples of what he knew to be considered the term he created.

Raphael Lemkin lost 49 PEOPLE IN THE HOLOCAUST and you DARE to say you KNOW BETTER THAN HIM what counts as a GENOCIDE? (Yea, 49. Only like 3 relatives survived. May all their memories be a blessing.)

The Nuremberg Trials would never have happened the way they did without Raphael Lemkin but he doesn’t fucking have the right to call something a genocide SOMEHOW. 

In 1953 he published a whole speech/article that literally said “Soviet Genocide in Ukraine” aka Holodomor. 

But sure, because that one little time Holodomor wasn’t included means it was never meant to be considered one. 

Raphael Lemkin, in his own words on his original definition of genocide:

“Genocide does not necessarily mean the immediate destruction of a nation, except when accomplished by mass killings of all members of a nation. It is intended rather to signify a coordinated plan of different actions aiming at the destruction of essential foundations of the life of national groups, with the aim of annihilating the groups themselves. The objectives of such a plan would be disintegration of the political and social institutions, of culture, language, national feelings, religion, and the economic existence of national groups, and the destruction of the personal security, liberty, health, dignity, and even the lives of the individuals belonging to such groups. Genocide is directed against the national group as an entity, and the actions involved are directed against individuals, not in their individual capacity, but as members of the national group.”

Raphael Lemkin, of blessed memory, knew exactly what he was saying. Poland and Ukraine have always been neighbors and have both been bullied by Russia. To say nothing of having their borders shifted around that a Pole could find themselves a Ukrainian and vice versa one year then go back to the start the next year. Raphael Lemkin, coiner of the term genocide, saw the destruction of the Holodomor and the Shoah and knew they both fit his definition. 

Pray tell how a nation such as Russia can overrule the man who coined the term of their crime? 

Raphael Lemkin would call the war the exact thing it is: genocide. We all know it. And I for one will continue his fight to making sure everybody knows exactly what Russia represents and what they have done and will continue to do until we are believed more readily than people want to believe an ex-KGB fuckhead. 

[captain-kraken]

Hi, happy STS~!

As I get closer to finishing my current WIP's first draft, I'm having trouble dealing with the large amount of exposition I need to do before the end. Have you ever run into this problem? How did you deal with it? What's the best way to handle exposition, in your opinion?

(from @tisiphonewolfe)

Thanks for the ask!

In the last 16 years I am yet to fully finish a Blue Blood draft that hasn't ended with me fully scrapping and starting over, so you probably know a lot more than I do!

Most of my exposition is dropped in little bits throughout, either in what the characters say or do. The lore of Sonhara is very heavily ingrained in the characters lives, so it's easy for me to have moment where I can include things without having to info dump (most of the time lol)

The Sonhara world building is my passion project so there is a lot of lore but (sadly for me lol) most of it doesn't make it into Blue Blood, because I only include the parts that are actually relevant to the story.

Viter is my one exception to the rule because he's very much like me and will 100% ramble about the things he's interested in, so he's always trying to tell Mahrias about stuff he's learned.

It also helps me that Mahrias questions a lot, particularly about his faith. I balanced him out with Tafgen who is very devout and not very curious, so when they have conversations I have "two sides" of debates.

[systemtek]

UK Government Security Minister speech on fraud and AI

This is a transcript of the speech, exactly as it was delivered on 31st October 2023 by The Rt Hon Tom Tugendhat MBE VR MP It’s an enormous pleasure to be with you and I’m very grateful to be back at RUSI. I gave my first foreign policy speech when I took over the Chairmanship of the Foreign Affairs Committee here. I know RUSI’s vision has always been to inform, influence and enhance public debate to help build a safer and more stable world. The mission has endured for 200 or so years now. The mission has not changed but the medium has. Today the range of challenges we face has never been greater. So it’s right that here, at the home of strategic thinking, we’re gathering to build on the foundations of those who shaped our security in the generations before us to make sure that endures for the generations to come. So a profound thanks to our hosts, and also to you all, for being here on the eve of the first major global summit on AI security. As with the summit itself, we have representatives here from government, from industry, from civil society, academia, and law enforcement. Whatever your profession, whatever sector you represent, you are here because we need you. Because we need each other. Like so many areas of my responsibility, the government cannot do this alone. Our role in government is to understand the threats that we face and target resources, helping others to come together and meet our challenges in the most effective way possible. You can tell a lot about a government from the operating system they build for society. Some countries build a system that are designed to control. Other build a system designed to exploit. Here in the UK we build systems that are designed to liberate. To free individual aspiration and creativity for the benefit of all. And that’s what security means to me. It’s not a means of closing things down. It’s about creating the conditions required to open up a society. A safe environment in which ideas can take root, and opportunity is available to all. That’s why we need to get this right. Because technology as transformative as AI will touch every part of our society. If we succeed, hardworking families up and down the country will reap the benefits. If we don’t we will all pay the price. The stakes are very high, but coming together today, in this way today sends the right message. There are two core themes for the programme today. They come from different eras. The first is fraud, which in its various guises, is as old as crime itself. When Jacob stole Esau’s inheritance by passing himself off as his brother, that was perhaps the first description of fraud in the Bible. The first record of fraud actually is possibly older, it dates from a fraud case related to copper ingots and is recorded 4000 years in Babylon. The last time I spoke about Babylon in RUSI I was in uniform describing how I was one of many armies to have camped under its walls. The challenges posed by Artificial Intelligence are comparatively new. Its democratisation will bring about astonishing opportunities for us all. Sadly that includes criminals. We know that bad actors are quick to adopt new technologies. Unchecked, AI has the power to bring about a new age of crime. Already we’re seeing large language models being marketed for nefarious purposes. One chatbot being sold on the darkweb - FraudGPT - claims to be able to draft realistic phishing emails: mimicking the format used by your bank, and even suggesting the best place to insert malicious links. That doesn’t just have implications for the realism of scams. It has huge implications for their scale as well. I don’t want to be in a situation where individuals can leverage similar technologies to pull off sophisticated scams at the scale of organised criminal gangs. We don’t want to find the Artful Dodger has coded up into Al Capone. At a fundamental level, fraudsters try to erase the boundary between what’s real and what’s fake. Until relatively recently, that was a theoretical risk. It wasn’t so long ago that I believed I was immune to being fooled online. That is, until I saw a viral picture of the Pope in a coat. Not just any coat. A fashionable puffer jacket that wouldn’t look out of place on the runway in Paris. One that my wife assured me was ‘on trend’. I quickly forgot about it. That is, until I learned that that image wasn’t actually of the Pope at all. It was created on Midjourney. Using AI. On the one hand it was a harmless gag, Pope Francis had never looked better. On the other hand, it left me deeply uneasy. If someone so instantly recognisable as the Holy Father could be wholly faked, what about the rest of us? The recent Slovakian elections showed us how this could work in practice. Deepfake audio was released in the run up to polling day. It purported to show a prominent politician discussing how to rig the vote. The clip was heard by hundreds of thousands of individuals. Who knows how many votes it changed - or how many were convinced not to vote at all. This is of course an example of a very specific type of fraud. But all fraudsters blur the boundary between fact and fiction. They warp the nature of reality. It does not take a massive leap of imagination to see the implications of that in the fraud space.   Thankfully, relatively few AI-powered scams have come to light so far. However, the ones that have highlight the potential of AI to be used by criminals to defraud people of their hard-earned cash. The risks to citizens, businesses and our collective security are clear. A few lines of code can act like Miracle Gro on crime, and the global cost of fraud is already estimated to be in the trillions.   In the United Kingdom, fraud accounts for around 40% of all estimated crime. There’s an overlap with organised crime, terrorism and hostile activity from foreign states. It is in a very real sense a threat to our national security. But while there is undoubtedly a need to be proactive and vigilant, we need not despair. And the wealth of talent, insight and expertise I see in front of me here gives me hope. For the Government’s part, we are stepping up our counter-fraud efforts through the comprehensive strategy we published this summer and the work of Anthony Browne, my friend, who is the Anti-Fraud Champion. Fraud is a growing, transnational threat, and has become a key component of organised criminality and harm in our communities. So international co-operation is essential. That’s why the UK will host a summit in London next March to agree a co-ordinated action plan to reform the global system and respond to this growing threat. We expect Ministers, law enforcement and intelligence agencies to attend from around the world. The Online Safety Act which has completed its passage through Parliament and will require social media and search engine companies to take robust, proactive action to ensure users are not exposed to user-generated fraud or fraudulent advertising on their platforms. And we are working on an Online Fraud Charter with industry that includes innovative ways for the public and private sector to work together to protect the public, reduce fraud and support victims.   This will build on the charters that are already agreed with the accountancy, banking, and telecommunications sectors to combat fraud, which have already contributed to a significant reduction in scam texts and a 13% fall in reported fraud in the last year. New technologies don’t just bring about risk. They create huge opportunities too. AI is no different. We know that the possibilities are vast, endless even. What’s more it’s essential. As the world grows more complex, only advanced intelligence systems can meet the task before us. We need the AI revolution to deliver services and supply chains in an ever more globalised world. I’m particularly interested in the question of how we can harness this new power in the public safety arena. As we will hear shortly, AI is already driving complex approaches to manage risk, protect from harm and fight criminality. There is a real-world benefit in combating fraud and scams, such as payment processing software that is stopping millions of scam texts from reaching potential victims. No doubt I’ve barely scratched the surface, and there’s lots more excellent work going on. What we absolutely have to do is break down any barriers that might exist between the different groups represented here this evening. The only people who benefit from a misaligned, inconsistent approach are criminals, so it’s critical that we work hand in glove, across sectors and borders. I want to come back to the point I started on. For me AI and the security it enables is an essential part of the State’s responsibility to keep us all safe. It’s not to increase our control. Not to keep people in a box. But to set people free. We cannot eliminate risk, but we can understand it. Using AI to map and measure today’s environment will ensure we do that. The pursuit of progress is essential to human experience. And the reality is that even if we wanted to, we cannot put the genie back in the bottle. That does not mean, though, that we simply sit back and what and see what happens. We can’t be passive in the face of this threat.   So what I want us to be thinking about is how we move forward.    Well, the way I see it there are three key questions that align to the aims of the AI Safety Summit: - The first, how do we build safe AI models that are resilient to criminal intent? - Second, as the vast majority of fraud starts online, how do we harness AI to ensure that harmful content is quickly identified and removed? - And lastly, what do governments need to be doing globally to balance progress and growth with safety and security? That’s far from an exhaustive list. But I think by addressing these core questions we can put ourselves on the right path. So, thank you once again for being here; thank you RUSI for hosting us, I hope you will find it a valuable exercise. And most of all I hope we can look back and say that today was a day when we took important steps forward in our shared mission to reduce the risks and seize the opportunities associated with AI. I remain hugely optimistic, but that optimism depends on the work we do today together. Read the full article

[fernreads]

A revised curriculum for a new Advanced Placement course on African American studies downplays some components that drew criticism from conservatives including Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, who had threatened to ban the class in his state.

In the official framework made public on Wednesday, topics such as Black Lives Matter, slavery reparations and queer theory are no longer subjects to be taught. They are included only on a list of topics that states and school systems could suggest to students for end-of-the-year projects.

The rejection of the course by DeSantis, a possible Republican presidential candidate in 2024, stirred new political debate over how schools teach about race. Florida officials last month issued a chart that said it promoted the idea that modern American society oppresses Black people, was inappropriate, and uses articles by critics of capitalism.

A spokesperson for DeSantis on Wednesday said the state education department is reviewing the revised curriculum for compliance with Florida law.

The course is currently being tested at 60 schools around the U.S., and the official framework is intended to guide the expansion of the course to hundreds of additional high schools in the next academic year. The College Board, which oversees AP courses, said developers consulted with professors from more than 200 colleges, including several historically Black institutions.

The College Board has been taking input also from teachers running the pilot classes as the draft curriculum has gone through several revisions over the last year.

Critics accused the organization of bending to political pressure.

"To wake up on the first day of Black History Month to news of white men in positions of privilege horse trading essential and inextricably linked parts of Black History, which is American history, is infuriating," said David Johns, executive director of the National Black Justice Coalition. "The lives, contributions, and stories of Black trans, queer, and non-binary/non-conforming people matter and should not be diminished or erased."

The course has been popular among students in schools where it has been introduced. At Baton Rouge Magnet High School in Louisiana, so many students were interested that Emmitt Glynn is teaching it to two classes, instead of just the one he was originally planning.

Earlier this week, his students read selections of "The Wretched of the Earth" by Frantz Fanon, which deals with the violence inherent in colonial societies. In a lively discussion, students connected the text to what they had learned about the conflict between colonizers and Native Americans, to the war in Ukraine and to police violence in Memphis, Tennessee.

"We've been covering the gamut from the shores of Africa to where we are now in the 1930s, and we will continue on through history," Glynn said. He said he was proud to see the connections his students were making between the past and now.

For Malina Ouyang, 17, taking the class helped fill gaps in what she has been taught. "Taking this class," she said, "I realized how much is not said in other classes."

Matthew Evans, 16, said the class has educated him on a multitude of perspectives on Black history. He said the political controversy is just "a distraction."

"Any time you want to try to silence something, you will only make someone want to learn about it even more," he said.

The College Board offers AP courses across the academic spectrum, including math, science, social studies, foreign languages and fine arts. The courses are optional. Taught at a college level, students who score high enough on the final exam usually earn course credit at their university.

In a written statement Wednesday, College Board CEO David Coleman said the course is "an unflinching encounter with the facts and evidence of African American history and culture."

"No one is excluded from this course: the Black artists and inventors whose achievements have come to light; the Black women and men, including gay Americans, who played pivotal roles in the Civil Rights movements; and people of faith from all backgrounds who contributed to the antislavery and Civil Rights causes. Everyone is seen," he said.

The African American studies course is divided into four units: origins of the African diaspora; freedom, enslavement and resistance; the practice of freedom; and movements and debates.

In Malcolm Reed's classroom at St. Amant High School in Louisiana, where he teaches the AP class, he tries to be mindful of how the material and discussions can affect students.

"I give them the information and I've seen light bulbs go off. I ask them, 'How does it affect you? How do you feel about learning this?' " he said. "It's also new for me, and I'm just taking it in stride. We're not just learning history, but we're making history."

[stormingthebeach]

Year 10

I think about this blog often. I always tell myself that I'm going to write in it, but then I don't. Maybe it's because the longer I've been in LA, the harder it is to celebrate the little things that used to excite me. I've finally become an old and jaded writer. Dreams do come true. Lolz.

The world is still weird. The pandemic is still winding down although things have felt normalish for a while. It just took Kevin McCarthy eleven voting sessions to become Speaker of the House. And, I've been back at my day job full-ish time since April with a boss who adds too much stress to my life.

After two years of consistent writing during the pandemic, going back into the office felt like a death sentence.

While at home from March of 2020 until April of 2022, I wrote four feature scripts, each of them significantly better than the last. The last three that I wrote all received high placements in multiple screenwriting contests. Eff yeah ;)

And the short film I was belly aching about in my last post? We finished it. We submitted to seventeen film festivals, we were "official selections" in seven of those, and we won awards at three of them. I still look back at the experience as being a pain in the ass, mainly because of egos (mine included), but I can't help but feel like this short film is a success and the experience I gained will stick with me for my entire career.

But since going back into the office, my productivity has plummeted. Work stress was consuming me. I've had way fewer hours in the week to write. And I honestly thought that I would have found a way out of the rat race before I was supposed to go back into the office. I was feeling pretty rough.

And then a new idea hit me and I started writing.

I submitted my first draft to a professional reader and right out of the gate, the notes were stellar. Lots of problems, sure, but this script was FUN. Writing the next four drafts felt really natural. Every new idea fit well. The story kept getting smoother. My third act came together perfectly. Fingers-freakin-crossed.

The last half of 2022 was very special. I had two of my LA best friends have bachelor parties and get married. And all four of those events were a blast. One guy is a writer and the other is an executive. Both two of my closest friends, both of them very well connected.

I made friends/ became closer with a handful of producers, writers, directors, and a guy who recently sold a script for seven figures. And you bet your sweet ass I asked every one of them to read my latest.

As I kept giving this script out, it felt like the notes were all saying the same thing in a different way. It boiled down to, "Why is your main character going on this adventure?" It's a question that needs to be answered, but I had so much trouble answering it.

And then one day it clicked. My character was presented this adventure and he took it on without thinking twice. No debate. No inner dialogue about IF this is what he wants to do. He just did it because he "should" do it.

Now, I've felt like a misfit for pretty much all of my life. (Me and every other person in LA, amiright?) With therapy I realized that I was living a life of "shoulds" rather than "wants". Over the last few years I've been quieting the "shoulds" and paying more attention to what I want. It hasn't been easy, but it's been worth it.

What clicked for me is that I never wrote the scene where my main character says "Yes, I choose to do this." He was simply presented with a challenge and simply went along with it. Assessing the situation, weighing the pros and cons, and then making the decision to move forward is what shows character. And I had left that part out.

Through different experiences in life, I often find myself in survival mode. I've made rash decisions based on fear. And it's never worked out for me. The idea of deciding "is this something I actually want to do, and why?" is something I'm still becoming comfortable with.

All of this is to say that my characters often find themselves in the same dilemma. So, why is my main character going on this adventure? Because he wants to. And now that I know WHY he wants to, I'm able to show that on the page.

The very first contest I submitted my latest script to, it placed THIRD OVERALL out of over twelve-hundred other scripts. As I'm writing this, I really want to express how happy I am, but I'm just a jaded old writer. What makes me happy is that it's a step in the right direction. The top five are called "winners", so it's the first screenplay contest I've "won", and I'm already past it.

My friendships with my LA friends has grown to a point where our little group feels like a family. And that's led me to other industry connections that feel really supportive.

My connections are growing. My skill is progressing. I'm officially an award winning screenwriter and filmmaker. And this latest script feels special-special.

Ten years in. I'm not where I want to be yet. But I'm fucking grinding.