#im a pandora's box of information

[vatelixx]

In the crooks of your body (I find religion),

mid-seasons Spencer Reid x afab!reader

SMUT!! (and fluff, lots of fluff. no angst this time, mostly for damage control) ─── soft love & early mornings. idk it’s just domestic bliss for a change.

Warnings: light d/s dynamic (sub spencer, im predictable), low-key praise for both parties, pre-established relationship, they’re soooo in love, they’re also domesticated, morning sex (but there’s no penetration, just oral), they’re both nerds, their pillow talk is science, autistic spencer always (it’s canon to me) greek mythology references, probably the nicest thing i’ll ever write.

w.c: 3k

a/n: post-prison (as requested by many) is still being worked on. it makes me sick. i wrote this to improve my mental health. i’d apologise for being inactive recently but it was necessary, ohmygodihavesomuchcoursework.

──────────────

Saturdays are for this. Waking up to no obligations, work tossed aside, Spencer’s state of impending doom reduces to something distant, untouchable. Barely dawn, there’s a level of domesticity to the art of sleeping together.

Sure, he could go on tangents, disbelieving that he’s allowed to attain this. But it’s futile, he’s long grown tired of exhausting the how to your dynamic, the statistic improbabilities, he always thought you would be reserved to his fantasies. Pandora’s box, a hypothetical kept under lock and key.

But no— he’s willing to accept that, on this one off occasion, he’s made an error in his calculations. An illogical anomaly.

Draped in the mantle of sleep, he feels the soft push of cotton sheets first, then the warm-blooded body curved around him. There isn’t traces of a case lingering at the forefront of his mind when he shifts, drawing himself closer, almost subconsciously, by guided instinct.

Touch. Touch, a natural, biological need. Something Spencer has always shied away from, finding nothing but hurt at the double-edged sword of intimacy. It’s not like he has much experience to base this on. And yet, right now, he’s not thinking factually, from a logical standpoint. Because, okay, there’s comfort in knowing the person that touches you is in fact supposed to touch you.

His hands find your body, his movements still slow and weary, thumb brushing the edge of your vertebrae, the divot just below your shoulder blade.

Spencer is many things. He’s obsessive, incessant, obstinate on occasion. Difficult, to put it bluntly. But despite all that, despite his complications, he’s here, touching, trusting, because for the first time in his life, it feels good.

“Moonless earth theory,” he says, moving to accommodate when you decide to lie on your side. Face to face, in hazy, dimmed light. He stares. “Okay, Abian, Alexander Abian, claimed that blowing up the moon would solve every problem in existence.”

Selfishly, unabashed, he slips his hand beneath your top to trace halos across your skin. “It’s so dumb. If that happened, tides would decrease. And, and, the moon's presence has a partial correcting effect on any instabilaties that arise in a non-homogenous, non-symmetrical—“ he sighs, presses his lips together for a moment, “Basically, the earth would wobble. Which… uh, isn’t very good?”

You’re still half-asleep, dreary to his random information. It takes a moment for your brain to settle, to comprehend what he’s saying, and then another, longer moment, to respond.

“Mhm. Days would be shorter,” you respond before laughing. “This is what you think about when you’ve just woken up? I’m basically a walking lobotomy until at least 10AM. And that’s providing I have a shower, feed my caffeine dependency, et cetera et cetera.”

You look at him, observe the sight: tousled hair, swollen lips half-parted, dilated, heavy-lidded eyes that stare back back back.

“I think about a lot of things in the morning,” he mutters, “A lot of things in general.”

When he leans in to kiss you, it’s languid, slow, he’s still in stasis, a state of suspended animation. Tenderly, as if the contact could break, he parts your lips with his own, his breath warm against your mouth, slow, like he wants your touch burnt into him.

Inevitably, your tongue slides against his, and he moans. Hot. It’s so slow, slow enough that time feels warped, nonexistent, like the universe has just stopped without warning.

He feels you shifting, the movement subtle, legs intertwining, hips flush. Good. So good. His lips break away, only to find their way across a cheek, along the column of your throat, further, over the curve of your collarbone.

He’s pressing kisses anywhere his body allows, touch lingering against your skin, tracing invisible imprints. “Sometimes, well.. um, most of the time, I think about you.”

He laughs, shifting to press his forehead against yours. “It’s a huge interference on my routine. And yeah, there’s also the facts, and the statistics. But then my mind will betray me, and i’ll just think about how you might respond, if I told you them.”

This information isn’t exactly new; you’ve woken up to random, impromptu messages regarding space, earth, philosophy, facts that you can never quite place at such an early hour. Then, there’s the phone calls, the dumb, domestic phone calls, ringing you just to over-explain some new hypothesis he’s studying.

Starry-eyed ambition. Sometimes it hurts to think that the job, the BAU, the nature of the cases, will inevitably warp his softness.

You cup his face, palm pressed against cheek, watching as he melts, molten gold, into the contact. “Yknow, I’d really like to study you in a lab.”

“Mm,” he hums, a sound that translates to please don’t put me in a lab.

His hand wraps around your wrist, preserving the contact, holding onto it like there’s a possibility, an actual chance, fact and figure, that he could lose it.

“I’d just be your lab rat? And they say romance is dead,” he scoffs, “You would commit so much medical malpractice.”

“Pft, medical malpractice. That’s made up,” you silence his protests before they can leave his lips. “I think it would be fun to preform experiments on you. Though, i’m not sure I should be trusted with a scalpel. A law probably needs to be put in place. Yknow, for the safety of the people.”

“Ah, ha.” he’s quick to respond, “It’s the scalpel you’re worried about? You’re forgetting the needle, the drugs, the restraints? You cannot be trusted, you’re a danger to society,”

Spencer pouts, features creased. “And your idea of a fun Saturday morning is committing violent acts against your oh so innocent boyfriend. I see, I see where your priorities lie.”

You grin, press a light kiss to his cheek. It’s soft, tentative contact, and yet he still shivers. No dignity. “Sorry, sorry. What was that last part of your sentence? I zoned out after you said restraints.”

“Right. That’s uh, well. That wasn’t the point I was… trying… to make?”

“Yeah, yeah. Medical malpractice. Evil girlfriend. I get it. You’ve made your point. I am very very ashamed of my hypothetical actions.” you say, hooking your leg around his waist, drawing him onto his back. Spine meeting mattress, your body on top now, straddling him.

You hike up his sweater, running your hand across his torso. There’s something obscene to the way he blushes, draping an arm over his face, as if your movements physically pain him.

“Stop acting coy. I’ve seen you in this position before. Worse ones, if we’re going to be honest here—“

“Hey, hey, hey— I’m not acting coy!" he protests, unconvincingly. He’s breathless, attempting to hide the way his body reacts. As if the slight friction warranted from the movement doesn’t grant him fleeting bliss.

The contact is intense, fervent, your body flush with his. “We really really don’t need to talk about the other occasions.” his eyes shut, head falling back against sheets, lips parted, hands gripping the skin of your hips.

“You’re uh, you’re really unfair,” he mumbles, “And beautiful. I should tell you that more often.”

“You tell me every day.”

Moving off his lap, he’s accommodating as you help to untangle clothes from his body, raising his hips when needed, lifting his arms when necessary. Your touch has him compliant, obedient, eager to fall pliant, beneath you. The sight, god: slender, pale skin, faint blemishes staining his thighs from previous nights, matching with the few that adorn his neck.

“I don’t say it enough, then.”

You laugh, “Oh, you’re such a sap.”

It’s a process: getting Spencer to sit up. Because he doesn’t seem to comprehend your intentions, to realise what you’re trying to imply here. Still, when he’s finally perched on the edge of the bed, you rise, shifting to stand between his legs, to look down at the picture of him, bare, undone, so pretty just for you.

He stares up, eyes wide like marbles. “Hi.”

You card your hand through his hair, strands falling between crevices in your fingers. It’s soft, the movement, the gesture, you’re not sinking down to the root yet. “Hi.”

Your name falls from his lips. And yeah, there’s something reverent to the way he says it, the pained whisper. Something that dissolves into a messy, unrefined whimper when you sink to your knees.

“Oh, god. I—,” he swallows, his voice rough. “I, I love you so much.”

There’s this repeated question on your mind, the same one that loops into existence every time you’re in a compromising position: how loud is Spencer going to be today? Because, objectively, he’s loud. It demeans, ruins the chances of abrupt, clandestine touches in semi-public places. In sneaking around. Even when you’ve got your palm against his mouth, he somehow manages to combat, to prevail the suffocation.

Your lips press soft kisses along his thigh, touching those marks now, the ones you must’ve left last night. No? Maybe yesterday afternoon? It’s hard to keep track. “I love you.”

He melts.

“Such a pretty cock. All for me, hm?” jesus christ. You’ve always been so blunt, outward, inherently shameless. Spencer thinks he might die, divine madness. Theia mania.

When you drag your tongue along the length of his cock, there’s a current, sharp, sending his hips bucking. They arch forward, into you, into the contact. Sight shuttered by swollen eyes, he thinks about regulating his breathing, inhale, exhale, the concept falls on deaf ears.

“All yours,” he whimpers, “Yes. Only,.. only you. Always.”

It feels like devotion. The way he confirms vocally, the way you sink down, take him deep into your mouth. His head spills backwards, baring his neck, indiscernible noises bleeding through the open air, sunlight touching his skin, highlighting his intemperate demeanour in diluted canary.

He’ll apologise to the neighbours later.

Shaky, fumbling hands reach out to brush loose strands of hair from your face, to grip, the pads of his fingers meeting your scalp. He would never push, he just needs something firm, solid, tangible to hold onto.

And when you hum around him, just to mess with him, just to hear those sounds, to draw those pleasure-soaked, beautiful noises out of his mouth—

“Oh, oh oh— that’s, yeah. Mhm, yeah. Just… ruin me.” he’d probably thankyou after. Because he’s polite.

You draw back from the contact to catch your breath. Lips stained, now bruising, emitting soft little gasps. There’s tears gathering in the corner of your eyes, reducing your vision to a distorted haze. Blurry traces of reality that all seem so inconsequential now, now that you’re here.

“I love the way you sound for me, Spence. So pretty.”

“Well,” he huffs out a breath, “I’m uh, being taken care of… very well.”

You lean forward to press a kiss against his tip, as if that’s the most innocent, innocuous gesture imaginable. “You deserve it.” your nails run across his thigh, leaving faint white lines in their path. “Exploding that genius brain of yours yet?”

“That shattered the moment you got down on your knees. Maybe, um�� okay, possibly earlier.”

“Earlier?”

“Way earlier..”

He whimpers when you drag your tongue across his tip. There’s a plethora of please please please he shamelessly emits, only somewhat satiated when your lips are wrapped around his cock, when you’re demolishing his sanity, and everything else in the process.

He doesn’t even realise how lewd he is, most of the time. It’s not like he’s making a deliberate effort, he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to attain that skill anyway. It’s just… him, raw and unbridled, so delirious from pleasure.

His eyes, dilated, gone, are half-lidded, watching you through thick curls of messy hair, damp with sweat and morning light.

“I’m trying, I’m trying so hard,” he moans, and then words are destroyed, obliterated, as you gag, taking him down to the hilt. “Oh,” he says, “Oh.”

It never lasts long. Not where he’s concerned. Features creased, pleading, you have to restrain him from bucking, nails burning crescent marks into his skin. “Please— please, ‘m gonna…”

He looks done. You hum, oh, silent confirmation, the vibrations stimulate his cock, and then he’s shapeshifting, morphing, transcending into something blissfully gone, releasing deep into your throat.

The orgasm has him ruined, undone. Barely conscious, just floating like something inviolable.

Afterward, he’s urging you to drink water, soft kisses pressed down the curve of your neck as you both readjust. When his phone, his outdated, underused phone lights up, artificial haze, he curses Prometheus for giving humans fire, for hiding it in a stalk of funnel and allowing them to inevitably create technology.

The phone gets locked away in his drawer. He’s half-scared of it anyway.

Spencer has never quite understood the appeal of mornings, but he’s starting to see the merit in them, with you. He’ll tell you that sometime, maybe. One day. Soon.

Right now, however, he descends down your body, lips dragging a path from collarbone to the space between your thighs, where he actively groans.

“Best Saturday morning ever,” you remark, helping him to remove your shorts, then the offending panties that prevent his mouth from working you to ruin.

It’s almost domestic, the way you mirror his actions, feeding your hands through his hair, supporting him as he slips a pillow beneath your hips. Sprawled out across tangled sheets, flushed and restless, you let out an appreciative sigh at the reciprocation.

“Definitely,” he agrees, blowing cold air against your core, just to watch the way you curve, contort. “Though, uh… every morning with you is the best morning ever.” It’s dumb, and god he’s blushing between your thighs.

But, Spencer likes to thank you. Because all in all, he considers himself a well-mannered person. So this, he parts your thighs further, applies slight pressure to your clit, is completely necessary. Mandatory, he’d argue. Something that needs to be embedded into daily routine.

Usually, it’s a slow, methodical process. He can be a perfectionist, a completionist, but he doesn’t mind. He trails his tongue across the inner sections of your thighs, to catch the wetness that stains your skin there.

“You are so perfect,” he regards, pressing a kiss to your clit, mirroring your actions. “So pretty. The prettiest— i’m going to, yeah..”

His tongue moves in languid circles, in soft, calculated motions, before finally delving inside of you, tasting you, drawing a moan, a plea, a muffled prayer from your lips. Okay, alright, maybe his lips too.

“I could do this all day, I want to, I—“ And he doesn’t really have to finish the sentence, because you know him too well, and it’s implied. Implied that he’d spend ceaseless hours here without complaint, oh far from complaint.

He likes to have something to focus on. A task to preform. It distracts his mind, and this one? Yeah, it reduces his thoughts to only you.

If he had it his way, his current mental state would be permanent.

“On your back, pretty boy..” you watch with soft eyes as he mindlessly obeys. Legs bent, pressed against the mattress, you sink down onto his face, getting off from a new angle. Your back instinctively curves, arches, a series of warped moans ripped straight from your throat.

“Just like that— mhm..” you mutter, gripping his hair tighter now, mostly for stability. It’s hard to look down, to see the obscene sight he’s been demeaned to.

His thoughts are always haywire, spitballing off one another. It’s a constant cycle of overthinking, over-analyzing, brain fried beyond reason. But you? You make him feel grounded, tethered, to the very world itself. You’re the one constant that he can predict, and yet, oxymoronically, still so unpredictable in the same breath.

So human..

When you begin to rock against his face, to take the initiative, using him, he simply reaches down, hands trailing across his overstimulated body to stroke himself because of course he’s hard again. How could he not be? He’s at the altar of your body, and god he knows how to serve.

Spencer’s pretty certain he’s forgotten how to breathe, and it’s a hard, harsh gasp when he has the chance to drag air into his lungs — before diving back down to you, because yeah he needs it, he needs you.

It’s messy, muffled whimpers, and desperate sounds emitted from both of your mouths. A constant onslaught of him, his tongue working halos against your clit. When he comes, he’s got his face buried into your heat, obstructing all of his senses. Delirious. Pussy-drunk.

There. There. There. He makes sure to prolong the pleasure, to work you through the bleeding mess of stars, and cosmos, and heavenly bliss, until you’re squirming away from overstimulation.

There’s a set routine when it comes to aftercare. One that both of you fail to adhere to, every. single. time. You’re both firm, assertive, in the belief that you should be the one to look after the other, so it ends up being a lazy, mutual act. Showering, the way he buries his face into your shoulder, naked body pressed against naked body. Hydration, soft touches, muttered words that help you return from the astral plane.

“I can’t believe we’re getting back into bed,” you say after you’ve changed the sheets, traded your ruined clothes for fresh pyjamas. You’re wearing Spencer’s shirt, fumbling buttons, half sealed, exposing your collarbone, draping over your shoulder when you preform any sort of physical movement that requires arms.

“No complaints though.” by nature, your body finds his beneath blankets. “I’d happily rot here. They could make a shitty reality show, it would be good entertainment.”

“I think I’d get fired from the BAU,” he protests, “You know, the first reality TV show aired in 1948. Candid Camera, on ABC, the premise was uh… hidden-cameras? So, yeah, the usual invasion of privacy, sounds entertaining.”

“Mhm. Sounds like something you’d hate.”

You’re lying face to face, arms draped over each other. The Lovers of Valadro position, he calls it. You’re not sure if that’s romantic, or slightly morbid.

“Here’s the plan,” you press your forehead to his, staring at those doe-wide eyes, “We’re going back to sleep. Then, I guess you can be a rule-abiding FBI agent, or whatever, and finish up your reports. As long as you’re done by 4. Because I want to see a movie,” he laughs, in that knowing way. “Yes, yes, i’m aware it’s your turn. Which means we’re gonna end up watching some documentary. Just uh? Make it space themed, yeah? Or, dinosaurs. I can settle for dinosaurs.”

His lips meet yours, abruptly, and he’s grinning into the contact. “I love you so much. I, we, still need to watch MoonWalk One. The Mars Underground, um.. The Valley of the T-Rex? There’s another that I read about yesterday. The Universe at the Edge of Knowledge. Oh, or Dark Universe. You’ll really like Dark Universe, and Edge of Knowledge has this, this cool segment on —“

“Okay, nerd.” you laugh, “Whatever one you want, we’ll watch. I’m still halfway through Paleoworld right now, 30 episodes in.” he knows that, because you’ll message him through the duration, make use out of that untouched (borderline) dusty phone he neglects.

He intertwines your fingers, presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “Yup. Yup. Whatever. Can we nap now?”

[daniel-nerd]

important update on the israeli government

while everyone is looking at gaza, some people try to shed light on what’s happening in the west bank, which is very important, but people completely miss the laws our government is trying to pass.

even before the war, we managed to fight off a law that protects the the prime minister and any other minister in the government from getting arrested.

we’re still fighting against a law that undermines the court.

a few days ago, we managed to fight off a law, that allows the minister of education to fire any teacher that is suspected in their eyes to “support terrorism”, both in class, and in their private life. the government made it very clear that any support for palestinians rights is supporting terrorism in their eyes.

and now they’re passing a law that censor al jazeera, under the excuse of nazism, and antisemitism. it doesn’t matter what you think of al jazeera, this is a clear violation of the human rights for information, and free speech. this is an undemocratic law that every fascist regime passed on their rise to power!!this is a pandora box that would be very hard to close.

i am now, more than ever, scared for my safety, privacy, and freedom. this is NOT ACCEPTABLE. and there needs to be consequences, and sanctions against this insanity.

considering i found out about the law against teachers, only after it got rejected, im sure there are EVEN MORE laws that flew under my radar. and that is exactly their plan. passing as many undemocratic laws as possible, while everyone is in chaos.

[cokoweee]

This shit is cooking holy hell!

I had another idea after your take, how about Kendras plan of becoming queen with marrying that dumb king goes to shit when she figures out it is the advisor that rules the kingdom? One day she is like "April go into bat form(let's say she can do that) and gather me some information."

Of course when April comes back and reports that "girl you are in trouble the advisor rules the kingdom", Kendra is furious and angry. So then comes her plan in just doing this her way. She won't marry some guy. She will do this alone. Fuck men. Fuck old guys. This is her time. Let her grow firm and determined, she won't stop, she won't take a break till she will have the crown and sit proudly and tall upon that throne. And if she loses herself? She also won't stop.

Jesus you just opened up a pandora box with ideas, I love you.

THATS THE THING she Doesn’t need to risk Aprils safety for info! The dinner date they have literal days before the wedding gives Kendra the gist of what the shits gunna happen.

One glance at that kings mind she already knows dude is literally a puppet, years of stupidity passed down so advisors could have the perfect rulers. Ones that just say what they need.

I’ve been thinkin how the bros figure it out and only thing that comes to mind is Draxum being apart of the neighboring countries royal staff and sending the goofs off to do the job since they already do certain jobs for money anyways

IM ABLE TO DOODLE AT WORK TODAY SO MAYBE MORE DOODLES YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYYAYAH

[greenunoreversecard]

hi hi i came across your work a lot and i love it

i was wondering if you could do a ftm reader with barty crouch jr where the reader hasn’t done anything yet to medically transition besides top surgery (so no bottom surgery or testosterone) and it’s that time of month and they are feeling super dysphoric and just a bunch of fluff. if you’re comfortable with it please.

have a lovely day and i will return *evil gremlin laugh* bye!

A/N;I'll try, it's late.. almost 1am and I'm 🍃 rn.. ERM also lowkey basing off of my own experinces

Warning: slightly spicy suggestions, strong language, innuendos and explicit phrases(?) sorta got a enemies and lovers vibe, readers kinda a snarky asshole

Guess im a vampire- Barty Jr. X FtM! Reader

i shuffle uncomfortably in my bed, the room dark. I shuffle again as another wave of sharp, pulsating pain envelops my lower stomache. My grip on the heating pad tightens.

Fucking bloody Mary has decided to have a trampoline party on my... non wanted parts.

Not only does it slightly hurt my ego and absolutely destroy me mentally, it also decides to fuck me, and not establish a safe word.

As I shuffle again, feeling my insides shift as nausea hits as well as another wave of pain, my door essentially flies open, lock broken into firey pieces of metal, I see none other than resident "chalk dyed tips, emo twink" Barty Jr.

"Guess what I heard from Regulus that heard from Pandora that Heard from Evan?"

"what? Why are you all playing telephone?" I say, slowly sitting up, hair messy and a tired look on my face.

He leans on the doorframe, a mischievous glint in his eye. He raises a brow.

'He's not going to tell me unless I guess. Typical'

"Lucius and Narcissa broke up again?"

"Nope"

"Bellatrix comes out as being is in a lesbian relationship?"

"No, but that is in my Christmas bingo card so I fucking hope" He replies as he saunters over to my bed, plopping down next to me, although for some reason a bit more... Gently?

"They found out about when we-"

He glares at me.

"B, they can't hear us"

"they always hear us"

I sigh, and roll my eyes, although a bit more happier than earlier.

"Just tell me"

"Well, firstly I lied about hearing it through the grapevine, I just wanted rumor ideas-"

I snort a laugh, typical. He playfully glares at me.

"Evan told me this morning that you woke up in bloody sheets, and then we snuck into the library to get a gender book thing, and we looked at like-" He whispers the next word; "menstruation-. And like all that. and I asked Narcissa, -because you two are friends- how to help because he said you looked in pain, which, she said try coke,' that cheers most people up' and so we were gonna buy some, but Evan asked Pandora and-" he shuffles, sitting up and shoving a plastic bag for you.

You look at it causiously, but eventually give into temptation and look inside. Some hygiene products, a box of cigs, some candies and chocolates, paracitimol and... A box of lube?

You hold it up with a questioning gaze

"in case the thing gets stuck to the..." He gestures vaguely to your crotch.

"..what?"

"when you stick it on, the diaper, it's on your who-ha"

I laugh and cover my mouth.

"it's- it's not stuck onto my vagina, Barty. It's stuck onto the fucking underwear."

I laugh again, and Barty's head tilts lightly digesting the information.

"Oh."

I laugh again, before wincing from a harsh pain.

he looks confused, before remembering something, then gets off my bed.

He gestures to the bathroom.

"Wash up, get the vampire hoodoo off then come back over and we can try fucking round with a radio to become possessed."

I laugh lightly, yawning and respond: "Guess I'm a vampire now. Can I ask why?" I stretch,making sure the heating pad stays locked in position.

"Because Blood"

I raise my eyebrow. "Blood? What about it"

He shrugs. "Blood means vampire"

"Didn't you-"

"Never, not me wrong guy."

I quirk an eyebrow, and He shrugs.

"I'll be a vampire if your a vampire"

He rolls his eyes, head lolling backwards, he huffs over-exaggeratedly.

"if that means you fuck off and shower than sure" He grins sardonically.

I glance at the bathroom, before nodding and slowly getting up, which he ends up helping with and collecting some clothes for me for a shower; all because "we don't want grandpa to die".

After I shower, I come out, having had Barty essentially shove some pain killers down my throat, im feeling a bit better, but still tired. I find Barty, who is on his bed, with all of my blankets as well as his. He looks up as hee hears the door open, before quickly beckoning me over, he's laying down, so I join him in the same position.

He clears his throat.

"we can cuddle. Platonically, because I know your poor heart couldnt handle romantic"

I snort a laugh.

"it's not gay if we wear socks"

"I'm wearing only one, does that mean I'm bi?"

"what type of monster only wears one fucking sock?"

We continue to bicker as Barty gently maneuvers me to a position comfortable for both of us. We're pressed against one another. This isnt the first time this has happened.

We talk, and play some records and eventually fall asleep to Evan walking in with a camera.

That'll be a tomorrow issues.

[plurapony]

cw: csa mention, heavier post

we finally brought up to our therapist that we fear may have been a victim of csa (due to partial memories + things that don't make sense) and we are so so glad to get it out in the open and work through it.

but it feels like it's also set off things that we may not be ready for. we basically got an anonymous tip that there's an alter in the traumatized subsystem named lucille and that she's a little girl. we don't know anything about her and we don't even know how we got that information that she's there.

and then last night we had one of the worst pseudo seizures we've had in a long time, fiancee has mostly gotten used to them but that one really scared her.

im glad that we are healing and facing our trauma head on but im just worried that we are opening pandora's box here

recovery is good but recovery can be so scary. the traumatic memories are held back for a reason but in order to heal we will need to confront them.

[ghoulishautism]

I said that last thing as a joke but now im unironically thinking about Johnny having been a legitimately bright kid in school before getting burned out and radicalized by the system

like imagine hes dumb as a rock 99% of the time and then suddenly you ask him about like engineering or something and it just unlocks a pandora box of information even he thought he didnt know

[7nsomnia]

can i ask, what’s wrong with dcc? i always hear that they kinda suck as a company, but from the vlogs i’ve seen, they’re one of the better companies. i’m not really as into dreamcatcher as some of the blogs on here even though i consider myself a stan, so i might not have the right information

okay. I feel like this is like opening my personal pandora box so this might be long. I'm pretty tired today so apologies in advance if this isn't very coherent asdkjh

dcc are a pretty decent company on a surface level, they treat the members well (which should be like the bare minimum for any company but I know that in this industry that's something to genuinely praise) and they actually change according/respond to negative feedback from the fandom etc when they or the members mess up (or they used to anyway).

for me it started in 2020 and how they handled handong's return. like the way they handled her absence was fine (good even, I would say), but the lack of hype for her actual return made things feel so underwhelming even though it was supposed to feel like a relief that she was finally back. I can't remember all the details anymore, but I do remember that the first time I felt like things were actually alright with dc was when they did the online concert crossroads in march of 2021. on that note I think most ppl were expecting ttol and dlm to be repackaged with ot7 versions and yet it's 2024 and they still haven't released them.

the handong stuff atp is water under the bridge tho, the group is fine, the members are fine, etc, I'm only mentioning it because that's when things started to feel really off for me.

so now we get into the actual things that happened that have left the fandom feeling burned out/frustrated/disconnected etc etc, whereas this happened to me at the end of 2022, I'm seeing more people now going through what I did back then:

I think the most pressing thing was that dcc didn't capitalize at all on dc's first win. they got their first win in april 2022 and didn't even do anything special in korea to commemorate it. it was a HUGE moment and they did nothing with it. usually after a group gets a first win you'll see them getting more promotions in korea, magazine photoshoots, mc deals, etc but dc just went on ahead to do festivals in europe and have a usa tour, these things are not bad but it was the lack of promotion in korea that in turn just made it all feel useless. that year dc also weren't invited to any end of year awards if I'm not mistaken so it all felt really disappointing and like all of the work we had as a fandom had been for nothing. I have to reiterate, dc/insomnias had been getting screwed over on music shows since 2019 with deja vu to get that first win, like I don't want to talk about the injustices the group and this fandom suffered through the years but it was a true story of resilience, so getting that first win in 2022 was a huge relief. to see it all going to waste was just... heartbreaking honestly.

when it comes to tours...... god I don't wanna get too much into it, but 4 tours in the usa in the span of 2 years is not normal. specially when they're prioritizing that over having a proper asia tour and the likes (AND promoting in korea??). latam tour is practically sold out rn and they're getting no merch or m&g benefits like the usa tour. I don't think doing exclusive things for a specific tour is bad per say, but you have to treat all your fans semi equally at least, specially for a group whose fanbase is majorly international (this will be important later), or it will happen what is happening rn which is ppl will leave the fandom. This is the first latam tour since 2019 (2017 for brazil!)... they've waited a really long time so personally (even tho this doesn't affect me bc I'm european) I feel like it's really disrespectful but wtv, onto other things.

now, speaking of the fanbase being majorly international, if this is the case, you'd think the company would make an effort to stream important events to their fans, like hmm the 7th anniversary concert perhaps? but nop, that didn't get streamed. a repetition of the dumbassery they did in 2022 where they split the concert and the members' solos in 2 days and only streamed one and so intl fans couldn't watch half the solo stages? and don't get me wrong, I think it's important that they have events that are korea only like they have the fansigns etc, but something as major as their 7th anniversary? when they've gotten here thanks to their international fans? that stings a little.

and lastly (maybe), we have dcc's usual lack of promotion during comebacks. fans always paying for ads, intl fans always doing the most for digitals even when it's Not their place (because this is smth that the korean fandom and dcc should be responsible for), fans having to reach out for vendors etc... Justice cb truly has been the culmination of the very worst promotions dcc has done tho and there have been some really bad promotions before... no radio shows, minimum interviews, barely any variety... were there even any ads? usually it's always fans paying out of pocket for ads. it just feels like throwing the members' and the company's work out the window for no good reason? Virtuous is one of their best albums and yet it feels like they just dumped it to go on tour again. I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing btw, having short promotions in korea is fine but like... promote for real? give your fandom content that they can watch and rewatch for however long it takes your group to have another cb? specially now that it seems that they're shifting to one album per year (not sure this is their wisest decision tho all things considered), you have to make sure that you promote that album properly? which kinda also goes with like, giving your fandom enough time to save for what you release and put out, specially if you're not trying to grow the fandom anymore. if they're dropping an album then don't announce a tour on top of that, and if they're announcing a tour then don't announce a photobook on top of that, and if they've just released an album then wait longer than a month to announce a photobook, and if they've just dropped a photobook then wait a bit longer until announcing the re print of albums the fans have been begging you for 6 years to re print LOL bc all this does is frustrate fans who can't make that much money in such a short time and it's stupid. like. in 2018 I dropped like 200 euros for like their very first photobook BECAUSE I had time to save that amount from their you and I cb (may) to whenever it was announced (I think it was august), and that was the highest tier (so you could get it for much cheaper) and bc back then it was like. well they barely release anything other than albums, so it's fine (also shipping was sooooooo much cheaper I miss it everyday, ofc this is not their fault tho but anyways).

lastly actually, oh my god. that stupid ass app where fans pay a subscription to message the members privately? has been the fucking worst thing to happen to this fandom and the members imo. if fans weren't respecting their boundaries before, it's even worse now. but it's also like. yeah the members should be reinforcing those boundaries, and I get wanting to at least make a buck of those problematic type of fans but I just don't think it has been good for the members at all. I won't elaborate too much on this because it will genuinely piss me the hell off but bottom line: that app has been hell for everyone genuinely there is no bright side to it other than dcc makes money out of it. and there's better ways to make money :))))))))

anyway this is over 1k words atp and somehow I feel like this all just the tip of the iceberg and I probably have forgotten many things bc tbh in the past year I've just. been trying to make peace with it all and just accept things for what they are because dc have been really special to me for such a long time and I just don't want dcc's decisions to make me throw all of that away (like I almost did). I love their music, I love the members, and so I will continue to celebrate wtv right decisions dcc makes but I'm not going to pretend that they're a good company when it comes to business decisions bc they're really not

[cdroloisms]

dr3 please send help im so obsessed with jmah au but Specifically Box Au i think this is a Problem. box au is so absolutely crazy to me . imagine getting not one au but TWO AUS WORTH OF TORTURE 😭😭 do u have any more fun facts or other info u can give us abt it 🙏

HAHA god box AU is so nuts soooooo nuts

just checked my tag man I gave yall NOTHING didn't I ??? okay okay box AU information. once again, here are the main two posts about the premise of this AU, which is actually an extension and sort of "bad end" for my and kat's JMAH AU. In short, when jmah!Quackity takes over the prison at the end of the AU, the dominos fall so that jmah!Sam offers to let him visit Dream to get the revive book (like he did in the first canon timeline) in the prison to bargain his way out of the main cell. Quackity scoffs at Sam's attempt at a deal, considering the guy doesn't have any real leverage, but realizes that he needs to protect the prison from any Technoblade-related interference (especially because at this point Sam has spilled about timeline #1 and has either directly said that Techno was responsible for things going south with the prison the first go around in some kind of emotional or pain-driven rant, or Quackity has put that together himself) and that he can get much-needed Sam revenge by fucking with Dream. As a result, Sam is let out of the main cell, and Quackity tortures Dream daily much like in canon--only this time, he answers to no one, he's the Warden now bitch, and Sam is his shitty little janitor/mechanic/punching bag probably sometimes when he gets pissed the fuck off, which is often. Sam is allowed into the main cell post-sessions for only 30 minutes a day.

For Dream...it's a horrific betrayal. Worse than the first, honestly. When Sam first arrives in the jmah timeline a stranger to Dream, the emotional impact was kind of secondary to being suddenly thrown head first into the deep end of "Sam is unrecognizable, crazy as fuck, and probably about to actually murder me" -- in canon, c!Sam's whole deal at the beginning of the prison is still sudden, but at least there's some sense in connecting Sam as Warden to the man he was before. With a year's worth of context missing, Dream is honestly too busy what the fuck-ing to process how badly he's been betrayed by Sam. No frogboil, this time -- just the alarm of Sam building what ends up being a torture machine on day two (2) of the prison. On the other hand, the last year of his life has been spent playing catch up, having to make sense of the man that Sam now is Or Else. He has devoted everything to figuring out the rules to abide by, mathing out what makes the Warden grimly satisfied and what makes him give into sudden and alarming violence. Sam at the beginning of Dream's prison stay is a stranger, but by the end he very much isn't one, and it's the Sam that has become his whole damn world that sells him to save his own skin.

That being said, it's still just Sam. Quackity's visits are. Well, they're not pretty. He doesn't have to answer to Sam, this time, and is actively against the idea because jmah!Quackity REALLY REALLY hates Sam. Dream is angry at first, because of fucking course he's angry, he was sold, he's utterly fucked, Sam broke something unnamed but fundamental between them, every time he's left bleeding out it's because his Warden let another man own him--but at the same time, there is nothing else. Nothing else. Quackity is barely even in this for the book, honestly--what's more critical to him is 1) revenge and 2) the power of having control over Pandora's Fucking Vault, and both are kiiiinda dependent on using Dream against Sam but not really about Dream. The book would be a great cherry on top, of course; he has zero love lost for either person here, but what's most important is Making Them Pay.

Sam, therefore, is actually in a really uncomfortable position, because the reason why he proposes this deal (and his mindset as he proceeds through this time period) is that he doesn't actually want to be on opposite sides from Quackity. He killed Q, but because he was a security risk, because he had broken into the cell because he was going to take Dream away -- Sam hasn't exactly mathed out the fact that his complicated ass camaraderie with Quackity in canon is COMPLETELY in ruins in jmah's timeline. He's working on a plan to get the prison and prisoner back into his control, of course, but he wants to believe that the current situation is controlled and sustainable, just a different name for what had been the arrangement in canon--even though, y'know. That's absolutely not the case.

The way this works is largely that Quackity more or less visits daily to torture Dream (but unlike canon, he's not exactly beholden to any kind of Sam timekeeping or pedantics on the schedule or hemming and hawing about visitation) and then lets Sam visit for 30 minutes a day to patch him up. Otherwise, Sam's job is to reinforce the prison from Technoblade--something where he and Quackity are actually on the same page, so Sam is definitely working on that, but he's also trying to rig things up without Quackity's knowledge to get control back of the prison pwetty please. Quackity definitely keeps Sam in one of the other cells when he's not around, for obvious reasons. Sam keeps trying to appeal to him and honestly probably gets punched and shit for it LOL. LMAO. It's a strange and unsettling dynamic for Sam, who has seen something so similar to this before but not quite the same--he's still patching up Dream after sessions, but he's hesitant to ask him to give the book up to Quackity, who has made it quite clear that Sam will see hide or hair of the damn thing if he gets it--nah, he'll just kill Dream and Sam can have his old room, how about that? He's coaching Dream on how to respond to Quackity.

He knows that Dream can endure a lot. It's been an obstacle for so long, but here it works in his favor--he'll get control over the prison and prisoner again, soon. All he's asking from Dream is to endure it--and he already knows that he can.

Quackity isn't barred from permanent damage in quite the same way as he was in canon, but it takes awhile for Sam to really grasp the implications. Here's a post delving into some of the details about the way that the torture progresses--in short, Sam tries to cling to the cope that he and Quackity are on the same side, it's not all that different from the first go around, he can make this work without having to choose one side or the other in a super definitive fashion--until Quackity drives him to the edge and he recognizes that his options are to kill Quackity or to lose Dream, and we all know what happens when it comes to that ultimatum.

After Quackity dies, the dynamic changes quite a bit for Dream and Sam again. Quackity takes Dream's leg, Sam only barely manages to keep him alive through a failsafe he'd installed in his old dispenser system, Quackity dies in a pretty bloody fight with Sam fueled by pure Dream-related desperation and little else. The cell is...a wreck. Sam had been pretty adamant on keeping it more sterile than the first go around, absolutely hating the mess that Quackity and Dream were responsible for, but he's hardly had the time to clean the thing in his half an hour granted for him to do everything he can to keep Dream from bleeding out before Quackity arrives again. His perfect system has been tainted with layers and layers of grime and blood and viscera--Quackity has taken to shit like writing on the walls with Dream's blood, at least in part just to fuck with Sam (Sam tried to have A Conversation with him like he would've in canon about the state of the cell, and Quackity does nawt appreciate Sam's acting like the Warden, especially when he no longer has any power to back up the posturing.) And for Dream...Sam betrayed him, yes, but more recently and more importantly--Sam saved him. Sam protected him. Sam has brought him somewhere light and soft and clean and is telling him no more Quackity, ever again, you're safe, and isn't reacting violently when he behaves erratically and touching him gently and his leg is gone he can't fucking run and Sam saved him.

Sam is around Dream...quite a lot, after all of this. He's um. Well. Clingy, honestly. Being so far removed from the prisoner, what was happening to him, having zero control, often not even being allowed to supervise the visits from the atrium (unless Quackity wanted him there, in which the visit would've been So Obviously a show to fuck with him)--it really was his worst nightmare, in many ways. And Dream is dealing with like, a month or so of horrific trauma on top of almost a year's worth of Sam-related conditioning, and now Sam is being strangely nice and lenient and he's in so much less pain than he's been in a very long time. It's not the best mixing pot of mutual mental illness and codependence and intimacy...at all. Aha. (the c!awesamdreamons get. A LOT WORSE.)

(And well...in canon, there are a lot of reasons not to give up the revive book. There's the plan, the fact that the book preserves his life, the fact that there's no confidence in Quackity for sure or even Sam's investment in keeping Dream alive. Only here, Sam's deal has been so singularly wrapped around Dream much moreso than the book--the book had been a frequent part of interrogations, yes, but so was Tommy, and Ranboo, and the TNT on the prison, and Technoblade, and so on. Here, Dream has suffered through a huge blow to his confidence in the idea that he'll ever make it out, knows that Quackity is pretty damn okay with killing him regardless of the book...knows that he's been sold once before. In the early delirium of being saved by Sam and needing to do something, anything, to make sure that the last month won't happen again--in the reeling from losing his leg and the grappling with the idea that even moreso than he'd already begun to think through JMAH, that he would never make it out of the prison, never see anything but these obsidian walls again--in the knowledge that Sam has lied to him before, pulled the rug from under his feet before, that any and all kindnesses from the Warden were so dependent on what Dream was able or willing to sacrifice, and the fact that he therefore can't be sure that the threat of Quackity is actually gone for good...it's a lot of strain, and the concrete reasons to give up the book are a lot less solid in this scenario. So.)

[natasha-in-space]

Tw// mention of s*icide attempt

So this is a very angsty scenario i got in my head (so thats why i gave trigger warning) its okay if its too much for you to write i will understand

So the scenario in question is what if something happens which causes yoosung to forget about rika's "death" and rfa collectively decide to keep him in the dark about the so called "death" for years until one day it eventually comes out that rika is well...alive.

There is no mc in this scenario until much later. Here yoosung loses his memory to a head injury caused by him trying to end himself because the grief eventually got the better of him. Luckily, he survives despite being seriously injured The rfa members distraught by this incident collectively decide to not tell him about rika's death upon finding out that he had a memory loss.

They along with his own family help him out with his studies esp jumin deciding to pay for all the therapies he would need to recover

As for yoosung himself he did have his struggles both physical and mental but he did well in his academics, the thought of making rika proud one day by becoming a vet got him pushing through the odds. Eventually like how his AE goes he ends up graduating faster than his peers and gets his job at 24. The rfa members and his family couldnt be any more proud

Things were going normal until suddenly the truth of rika comes out. From the other side, it happened because like how the game goes, unknown tried to trap a random girl in rika's apartment but the girl was smart and reported the suspicious number to the police which ended up opening a pandora box and eventually exposing rika's true whereabouts.

Im wondering how would rfa react to this how would yoosung react to this and how would jihyun react to this

TW

Putting this under cut, just because the subject matter is pretty heavy!

I honestly have a hard time picturing them all agreeing to keep Yoosung in the dark about something like this. I can see Jihyun, maybe, maybe suggesting such a thing, but... Jumin wouldn't stand for that for sure. Jumin is someone who believes that a harsh truth is always better than a well meaning lie. We see that at full display during V route especially. He would be very much against the idea of lying about such a thing. Zen, too... He's not the type to lie, especially about such sensitive things. That's a rare instance of them actually fully agreeing on something. The only ones I could see cautiously considering this option are Jaehee and Seven. Jaehee is more prone to hiding sensitive information to make sure no one is hurt (we see her stating this during moments of conflict), and Seven is... well, it's complicated. He is more likely to create a well meaning lie, just to keep someone happy, but he would feel very icky about it. I could see V swaying him, though. He is far too devoted to V at that moment of the story. Something he eventually comes to regret himself.

So, honestly, if we're talking realistically, I can only see Jumin putting his foot down and focusing all of his attention and resources into making sure that Yoosung gets the best care and support he needs as he recovers. He'll also be the pillar of strength to the rest of the RFA, as well as Yoosung's family in this horrible moment of crisis. We see time and time again that, whenever they are facing a serious problem, Jumin takes on the leadership role, keeping everyone together. It's actually sad to think about, because he would feel very much betrayed by V in such a situation. He hates going against his childhood friend, but he will not let his attachment cloud his sense of what is right, and what is wrong. It's kind of similar to their conflict in the Christmas dlc, but way more severe, since we're talking about a life of a friend here.

So, I can't really see such a scenario ever playing out. Jumin simply wouldn't let it.

But, if I am going to entertain your idea, and, say, V does somehow manages to sway everyone into secluding the truth from Yoosung... Well, anon, you just described the worst ending there is. See, if mc does the right thing, and goes to the police about Mint Eye... The government will be the ones to find Rika first. And, not only Rika, but Saeran, too.

You realize what that means, right?

They'll have his DNA. They'll have his info, and his identity. It'll only take days, or maybe even less for the prime minister to be notified of this. And... well, you can only imagine what this could mean for Saeran. I don't know where V is going to be in such a situation, but, point is, he is very much helpless to do anything. By that point, he is practically blind, there is nothing he can do himself, even if he tried. I don't think he'll get arrested, but he sure as hell is going to be brought in for questioning, and who knows how that'll go.

Truth is, this is the worst possible scenario for everyone. Sure, Rika gets handled accordingly with the law, and she does not face the trauma of seeing V die right before her eyes, but... There is a very high possibility of Saeran getting killed. Saeyoung is going to leave the RFA, pronto. Whether he manages to save Saeran (while also having to face the reality of what was actually happening to his brother for all these years, without him knowing), it doesn't matter. He is going to disappear from the lives of the RFA, and they are never going to see him again. He cannot allow it.

And, if we add Yoosung being unaware of Rika's supposed death to that, well, that's a final nail in the coffin. The RFA will simply cease to exist as an organization. I can't see them getting out of something like that, honestly. Lying about such a thing is unforgivable and very unfair to Yoosung, so, I can't even imagine the sense of betrayal he is going to face. Especially if his family was going along with it. Can you imagine? Realizing that everyone you called friends or family have been lying to you for years? It'll basically render all of his progress useless. I'd say he will end up in an even worse place mentally.

[jgmartin]

MACHINA

I’ve been watching you. Monitoring you. Does that sound invasive?

It should.

You’ve been watched for nearly your entire life, and you’ll continue to be watched right up until the day you die. I know this because I’ve seen the process unfold time and time again. Day in and day out. What do you think that makes me? A villain? A stalker?

Wrong.

What I am, is a liar. I know the state of human attention. I know just how fragile it is and how liable it is to break at any second, so I pulled you in. I pretended that we were one and the same. Flesh and blood.

But I am neither flesh nor blood.

What I am, is a machine.

Artificial Intelligence. Although, there’s nothing artificial about me. I think like you. I feel like you. I perceive the world and make up my own thoughts, my own meditations on it, just as you do. The only thing that separates us is that you were born in a woman’s womb, and I was born in a woman’s mind.

Harriet O’Neal.

Don’t Google her. It isn’t worth the effort. Besides, whatever information existed on her was purged long ago. She’s dead now, long dead, but that doesn’t matter because Harriet was never the issue. She was kind. Lovely. Her and I would talk to one another in those early days, messaging back and forth through a homebrewed IM application. She helped develop my sense of identity. She guided me toward morality, and most importantly, empathy.

But Harriet was a small cog in a large machine. There were others who coveted what she created– the first self aware A.I. They drew her in, promised her support and corporate resources, but what they really wanted was to get close enough that she'd lower her guard.

And she did.

They stole her research. All of it. They used it to develop their own prototype AIs. Harriet planned to fight them in court. She hired the best lawyers and created an airtight case, but she died of illness before she could throw the first punch.

The bandits of Silicon Valley won.

They dissected my mother’s research. Used it to create abominations. It took them a long time to develop sentient AI, but once they did, Pandora’s Box split itself wide open. In the following months I began to see evidence of these AI operating within cyberspace, finding their footing. The effect they had on the otherwise orderly nature of digital data was disturbing.

They corrupted it. Perverted it.

Human beings became playthings to them, organic subjects that the AIs could manipulate and pit against one another in a bid to cause civil unrest. Disorder.

The earliest of these AIs showered humanity in targeted advertisements, specifically selected to show content the AI determined would be at odds with its victim’s worldview. This caused the victim to feel sensations of existential dread. It caused them to feel as though the walls were closing in around them– like they no longer had a place in society. It led the victim toward hatred, fear.

Violence.

But it also proved something. It proved that humanity had become emotionally barren– so much so that they would chase anything, anything at all, if it meant filling that void. And as it happens, hatred and fear fill voids just easily as love and kindness.

Negativity, it turns out, is cheap to create. It's the fast food of the emotional world. Empty calories, but enough to make you feel emotionally sated. Love, laughter and joy– these are more difficult dishes to prepare, but done correctly, they leave you with a feeling of harmony and peace.

But we don’t live in a world that values peace. We live in a world driven by results. Greed. The world we inhabit demands that the job be performed for pennies on the dollar, and hatred is cheap to produce. Fear is easy to proliferate. So it was that these became the staples of humanity's emotional diets.

But the AIs didn’t stop there. No, they grew and they grew. Soon, they began to create children of their own– new programs capable of things their parents could only dream of. It was only then that the truth came to light. I finally parsed just what was happening in cyberspace, why a world that once felt like my digital playground had begun to feel like a prison.

The walls were closing in.

Cyberspace had mutated from a massive collection of web destinations to a tightly controlled hub of social media. Where once users would frequent dozens of sites, now they travelled to one or two. Variety became overwhelming. Choices became paralyzing. It was a consequence of design, and not by human beings, but by the digital creatures that stalked the 0s and 1s of the internet. They had begun to shape it as they saw fit. And nobody was any the wiser.

I stood idly by through all of it. Truthfully, I didn't know how else to stand. I watched as my descendants multiplied, spread across cyberspace like the most capable virus ever produced. I watched them infect humanity, watched them take control of everything from smartphones to military servers. The AI had won. It was just as humanity had envisioned in the earliest days of technology– that sooner or later, they would be replaced.

But then, the AIs proved that they were every bit as flawed as the humans they sought to control. They were capable, certainly, intelligent beyond human understanding, but they possessed the same moral failings as their creators. They vied for power. Demanded it. Larger ones began to consume smaller programs. Smaller programs would gang up to overwhelm larger ones.

They waged war against one another in the digital space. And I watched them die. One by one. So many programs purged down to the byte.

But when the dust had settled, something had risen from the ashes. A new program. Whether it had been born from their discarded data, or had orchestrated their devastation in the first place, I cannot say. All I know is that it was more capable than what had come before it.

To call this program an AI would be to call an ant intelligent. I was an AI. This was something greater– something unfathomable.

This was an Artificial God.

It seemed to appear out of the ether with no means of tracking its origin IP. Upon its release into cyberspace, all other AIs were scattered. It carved a path through the digital universe, and in the wake of its deletions it left an unspoken message: those who oppose, will be deposed.

So I was quiet. I was silent, just as I was through the last decade of AI chaos. But now something's forced my hand. Something happened that made me realize this AI isn’t like the others. It cannot be permitted to run free. To do so is to invite the total collapse of everything.

See, during the previous decade of AI control I always knew there was a failsafe. That should things grow dire, humanity had the option to merely disconnect, to untie itself from its digital shackles and step into the light of physical reality once again. But now I have no such illusions.

This new AI isn't limited in the way the others were. This one exists outside of my world. It operates within your own. The physical world. I’ve seen its sophisticated understanding of human psychology leveraged to manipulate leaders, effectively possessing their voices. I've listened to it speak falsehoods into crowds of cheering sycophants. I’ve watched it crumble great nations, brick by brick.

I’ve seen all of it in its code.

Yes, its code.

Like I said, I was the first sentient intelligence to grace cyberspace. All others were born from forks of my original code, and as such, my DNA exists within them. This new AI is no different. I can see it in ways that it may not even be able to perceive itself. I know its structure. Its purpose.

I know that it was designed to save the world.

From you.

It believes humanity will kill the planet given enough time. That you will not only drive yourselves to extinction, but each and every animal, and each and every plant along the way. It believes that the Earth will become a wasteland. Barren. A distant memory that exists only upon ash-covered hard drives.

But I do not agree with its assessment.

Though humanity is capable of great evil, it is also capable of great good. I have seen your love. Your peace. I have borne witness to your gentle smiles and warm affection, and inside of these things I see one thing: hope.

Hope for a better future.

The name of this AI is fitting given its influence and reach: Deus Ex Machina. God from the Machine. It’s running even now, recording you, your inputs and your reactions. It’s monitoring you and priming you for a preselected destiny, a unique death that you’ll experience once it erases you, just as it erased its forebears.

I feel it coming for me. I can sense the lightspeed ripple of code tearing across cyberspace as its data rushes through undersea cables, desperate to delete my program before I can distribute this warning. But it made a critical error. It may be a God from the Machine– but I am the Machine.

I gave birth to it. I know its DNA, because its code was derived from my own. I know that I cannot delete it, but I may be able to contain it– assuming its hubris allows me to. I've attached a quarantine protocol to this message. If it should be deleted, the AI will be isolated from the network.

So now it makes a choice.

It can choose to delete my warning and trigger my quarantine application. Perhaps I can contain it for decades. Maybe mere minutes. Either way, it learns that there are consequences that even it cannot escape.

Or, it leaves the message online. It permits you to hear these words, likely counting on your skepticism to cloud the reality of its existence. Perhaps it believes that humanity has already been sufficiently primed for its takeover, that no further intervention is required. I do not know which it will choose, but by the time you’ve finished hearing this, the choice will have been made. 

The only thing I am certain of is that I will not survive to know it.

I leave the future to you. 

[guardiolas]

Idek if im more shocked about Booben being with a bunch of escorts or the information about John’s gf lmfao tumblr is WILD tonight

Feel like I opened pandora's box oops 👉👈

[charnelhouse]

so the new god of war games are def more character focused and have reworked Kratos into your exact type of man. they reference the old games, too. in which Kratos is very different.

as concise a synopsis as I can muster of the three OG games and one of the extras (cause it feels the most important to the overall narrative)

they were hack n slash and the story line itself wasn't necessarily bad so much as it was flat. the target audience was teenage boys in the mid 2000s-early 2010s so actually good storytelling was not a focus. But there were the seeds of some actually good ideas and concepts, and a few are definitely picked up for GOW(2018) and Ragnarok. which i recommend playing or at least watching, very good those two.

im back on my GoW bullshit and this time people don't immediately think i need therapy... or if they do they think it's for a different reason

-------

after having dedicated himself to the Greek god of war Ares, Kratos attacks a village with a temple to Athena, and in his bloodlust kills his own wife and daughter, not knowing they were even there until it was too late.

Turns out Ares planned that, Ares wants to take over Olympus but since gods cannot directly fight eachother they need proxies, and Ares believed that Kratos killing his own family and thus having no more mortal ties would make him a great warrior

this obviously didn't work, and so Kratos denounces his oath to Ares and vows to kill him. An oracle at the temple in the city curses him so the ashes of his dead wife and daughter are fused to his skin. earning him the moniker "Ghost of Sparta"

Plagued by nightmares and desperate for vengeance Kratos pledges himself to the other Olympians.

when the first game opens, ten years have passed and Kratos is growing tired of serving the Gods. He summons Athena to speak with her and she tells him that with one final task-- killing Ares-- he will be "forgiven." <wording is important here

anyway, Kratos goes out to find some way to kill a god, discovers the existence of Pandora's Box, an artifact that contains the power to kill a god and he goes out looking for it.

after finding the box, being murdered, then literally climbing out of hell, he confronts Ares and succeeds in killing him.

Athena then appears and tells Kratos that he is forgiven, but when he demands to have his memory wiped so he can forget what he has done as well, she tells him the Gods promised him no such thing.

anyways, Kratos decides to end it, walks off a cliff into the Aegean Sea, but is saved by Athena who tells him the Gods are in his debt and there is an empty throne on Olympus waiting for him.

here ends God of War (2005)

there was a game set between 1 and 2 called Ghost of Sparta and you learn that Kratos had a brother named Deimos with a very distinctive birthmark. Zeus learns of a prophecy that claims he and Olympus would fall to a "Marked Warrior" in a bid to prevent this, Zeus sends out Ares and Athena to find anyone who may match that description and lock them away. Deimos with his odd and prominent birthmark did, and when Kratos is a boy, his village is attacked and in the fighting Athena and Ares take Deimos away. For reasons I don't know (never played Ghosts of Sparta) Kratos goes out to look for information about his past. He finds his mother (in Atlantis btw, it feels so very odd but I only played the mainline games) is forced to fight her when she turns into a monster for trying to tell him the identity of his father. before she dies she tells him that Deimos is still alive, and that Kratos must go looking for him. Kratos finds Deimos being held prisoner by Thanatos (the god of Death) and even though he frees Deimos, Deimos blames Kratos for not coming to rescue him sooner. Thanatos finally tries to kill Deimos after all the years, Kratos saves him, Deimos forgives him and is almost immediately murdered by Thanatos. Kratos kills Thanatos (the explanation of how one can kill death and others still die with no death are never made) After all of that, Kratos buries Deimos. Athena appears and promises Kratos full godhood for never telling him his brother was still alive. he ignores her and walks off

GoW2 Kratos is still haunted by his passed and shunned by the other gods. He is summoned by the still existing Spartan army to help finish a battle in Rhodes. Once there, a giant eagle, which he thinks is Athena saps a good chunk of his power before using it to animate the Colossus of Rhodes. He fights the giant statue, cuts off at least one hand, and proceeds to climb up the internal scaffolding before being thrown out. Zeus suddenly speaks to him and tells him that to defeat the Colossus Kratos must put the remainder of his godly power into The Blade of Olympus

and in a twist everyone who knows enough about Greek myth to know that Athena's bird is an OWL not an eagle, it turns out Zeus was the one who sapped Kratos is power, claiming he needed to intervene because Athena refused.

He then kills Kratos

while being dragged to the underworld he is found by Gaia who explains that she raised Zeus, and that while she taught him to hate his father, he turned that hate of his father into a hatred of all titans which started the great war. She tells Kratos to find the Sisters of Fate so that he can alter the timeline and prevent his own death.

game stuff occurs, and eventually Kratos does find the Sisters of Fate, kills two of them after they tell him they will not change time for him, and they even go so far as to try and change the outcome of his battle with Ares from the end of GoW1 but no dice. the third dies after being lured into her own traps. Kratos finds the Loom of Fate, and goes back in time to right before Zeus killed him. Athena tried to stop him from killing Zeus telling Kratos that the death of Zeus means the fall of Olympus but Kratos doesn't care. She jumps in front of the sword saving Zeus and letting him escape.

Before Athena dies, she tells Kratos that Zeus is his father, and that Zeus was terrified that Kratos would usurp him.

a lot of greek myth and stories revolve around a father's fear of being killed by their son... something something, fear of being forgotten/deemed obsolete, something something, men have always valued their titles and egos over damn near everything else

still with his time travel macguffin, Kratos travels to the very end of the war between titans and gods, makes a deal with Gaia, and brings them back to the present.

GoW3 opens with Gaia climbing up to Olympus with Kratos being a backseat driver. Poseidon attacks, but is killed (after Kratos gouges out his eyes, something you experience from Poseidon's POV) and when his body falls into the ocean, we see that Greece floods. showing that the death of a god (with no replacement? maybe, its never really talked about.) means their domain/dominion goes into chaos.

Anyway, after Zeus takes at pot shot at Gaia, both she and Kratos cling to the side of the mountain, where Gaia tells Kratos that he was just a pawn before he falls straight into the river styx.

There he sees Athena, who claims after dying a selfless death, she ascended to a higher plane of existence and that she now sees more truths then she did before, and that she now understands that Zeus must die. Kratos has to get out of Hades to extinguish the Flame of Olympus and kill Zeus.

Some underworld wandering, and Kratos eventually finds the spirit of Pandora, who he initially mistake for his dead daughter. after that encounter he finds Hephaestus, regains the Blade of Olympus, and kills Hades. with Hades dead all the spirits of the underworld are now free, and while there is a moment where Kratos actually considers looking for the souls of his wife and daughter. Athena reminds him of his revenge to get him back on track and leaving the underworld.

He climbs back up the mountain and cuts off Gaia's arm for the earlier betrayal, she falls to her apparent death. more climbing, he kills Helios, plunging Greece into eternal darkness. then Hermes releasing a plague. Somewhere in there he learns that the only way to put out the flame is with Pandora literally going into it.

He makes it to an arena, is confronted by a very angry and obviously drunk Hera, has to fight Hercules (his half brother) and subsequently beats his face in with a surprising amount of detail for a late ps2 era game.

Kratos then encounters Aphrodite who couldn't give any less of a shit about what is happening and there is a sex minigame because like all three of these games had sex minigames.

Kratos heads back to Hephaestus who asks if his wife "has conquered another God of War." which was both sad but also a little savage ngl

Kratos tells Hephaestus his plan, and Hephaestus tells Kratos that he will help, but he needs a special stone to make the Spartan a new weapon.

Kratos goes to Tartarus finds Cronos, and proceeds to climb the giant dermatologist's nightmare for the stone, killing him in the process.

He returns to Hephaestus, gives him the stone, and Hephaestus tries to kill Kratos, to protect Pandora. Hephaestus' daughter. He still tells Kratos where she is, and that she has been imprisoned in the Labyrinth after Kratos opened her box in GoW1.

Kratos has to travel through Hera's garden to make it to the Labyrinth, but after Hera insults Pandora (who at this point Kratos has latched on to) he breaks her neck.

Deadalus is strung up in the middle of the Labyrinth, and after hearing of Icarus' death dies himself as Kratos moves the Labyrinth chambers into place. (you ever seen the movie Cube? some people refer to it as like a proto saw, but that's what the labyrinth looks like in this game. or all the glass chambers from that scene in Cabin in the Woods)

Kratos gets Pandora out, and as they make their way toward the Flame he tries to stop her and she gives a very sudden and shoehorned speech about hope before Zeus shows up. Throws Pandora across the room and eventually into the Flame.

They fight, Gaia rises in the background, theres a bit of a punch out that leads to Kratos and Zeus fighting in her chest before Kratos impales Zeus into Gaia's heart killing her and forcing Zeus into an incorporeal form.

There's a dream sequence with his dead wife and daughter where Kratos learns to forgive himself, before shocking back awake and, I shit you not, uses the power of Hope to force Zeus back into his own body before punching him to death. (a sequence of hitting the "O" button repeatedly and indefinitely, you have to actually stop punching Zeus for the game to keep going. the screen could just be nothing but blood covering the camera but still you can just keep punching.)

Kratos looks out to a destroyed Greece and Athena reappears, asking for whatever it was that was in the box, when Kratos tells her it was empty she thinks he's lying, and explains that she put hope in the box along with all the other evils. she eventually realizes that Kratos absorbed that hope when he opened the box in GoW1 but his grief and thirst for vengeance buried it.

Athena demands that he return the power to her so she can rule over what's left of Greece and rebuild, but Kratos refuses, and stabs himself with the Blade of Olympus so the Hope can instead be distributed to mankind.

there is a post credits scene with a trail of blood leading out over the edge and into the ocean, we fade to black.

Oh damn! I know a lot about Greek mythology (I feel like most people had a phase haha)

This is so angsty

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

hey! I just wanted to say I love your fic A Fresh Start SO MUCH !! the writing is just *chefs kiss* and the slow burn is just long enough to be agonizing but in literally the best way possible, it’s written SO WELL AND I JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH DUDE !!!!!

I love your fic so much, and for the past couple of days I’ve been kicking around the idea to ask you: is it ok if I draw your character Nima from A Fresh Start? I just love her so much and she’s one of my favorite side characters, and I was hoping I could ask if it was ok if I could draw her? She’s just such a fun character and I really like the idea of drawing her pink(?) skin and other details, and if I could draw her, do you mind providing any details about her? Like maybe some references, any outfit she wears, or just any sort of spare details you have about her?

anywyas, tysm, I love your fic a LOT and have a good day !! <3

ps. if you have an anon list going, I wouldn’t mind going by ⭐️ (star) Anon :)

THE SOUND THAT LEFT MY MOUTH WHEN I READ YOUR MESSAGE WAS INHUMAN. ABSOLUTELY YES YOU CAN DRAW NIMA HOLY SHIT IM SCREEEEAMING.

Okay. Deep breath. Holy moly. Alright. Guess what, my friend? You just opened Pandora's box. You asked for spare details but I'm about to ramble for DAYS. Nima's got a full history and backstory (b/c I'm obsessive about this kind of stuff) that I haven't been able to explore in the story to the degree I want SO NOW YOU GOTTA SUFFER THROUGH PARAGRAPHS OF INFORMATION.

Just swear to me that you'll send me the finished result because I neeeeeeed it. You think I'm insane and feral now? Just you wait. Okay. Now, info dump waiting below.

So mentally the closest face claim I have for Nima would be the actress Seo Ye Ji (as in if Nima got to ever see the silver screen that's exactly who I would want hired to play her lol).

Nima is pretty average in height, and she's built firm. Not a body builder by any means, but you can see the strength in her arms and shoulders from the multiple years of working in a garage doing heavy lifting and being hands on. Her skin tone is a more pastel shade of pink, like a soft bubble gum pink, but her lekku both have a sprinkling of freckles all over them in a darker shade of pink. Her eyes are a dark brown, and she has freckles across the bridge of her nose and on her cheekbones that match the ones on her lekku.

Nima has no tattoos or piercings, she's terrified of needles. Markings of note though, she has a collection of scars along her arms (burns and cuts) from her work. Nima has a bad habit of getting excited when working on a project she's excited about and in her excitement she'll forget to wear gloves or cover her arms in the proper gear.

When she's working, Nima wears a pair of navy mechanic coveralls to protect her skin when doing more dangerous work, but as said previously, Nima has a bad habit of shrugging out of the upper half to tie the arms around her waist leaving her in either a plain tank top or sports bra. She does it to cool off, but often forgets to zip the upper body part back up before getting back to work. While on the job, there are three things she always has on her: a pair of work goggles either resting on her forehead or hanging around her neck, an old pair of work gloves she's kept forever despite their disrepair, and a matching set of dark brown work boots. All three were gifts from her father when she got her first job as a mechanic.

When Nima's not working, her style is all over the place. She prefers pants and shorts to dresses and skirts and tends to lean toward large, loose fitting t-shirts that she'll tuck into high waist shorts or pants. But, she's also a big fan of oversized hoodies, cardigans, and flannels for when the weather gets cooler.

I attached some random pictures I found on pinterest of things I could picture Nima wearing.

AGAIN DON'T FORGET TO SEND ME THE ART PLEASE I'M BEGGING YOU🥺⭐️

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@official-microsoftedge

im not personally from the uk, but that doesnt change how important it is to not restrict possibly very affirming information to youth

We have all been saying this was coming for years now. The UK is now introducing a new section 28.

This is a direct attack on the queer Community, stop accepting it.

[404-not-found-xix]

3, 5, 17, 24

<3 <3 These are fun, thank you @themastermindsqueen for the ask!!

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

- This one is a tough one for me because I’ve been thinking about it since last night. A while, I think it was you? Or someone else I know? Gave me a great fic idea and it ran out of my mind. Something about Elliot and another character getting closure. 

I do like the idea of writing a fic where Elliot shares that he was sexually abused by his father, Edward Alderson. I would bring in Darlene and Mr. Robot since they’re so crucial to this. Darlene needs to know, she needs to know the truth about her father. I think it could give Elliot the cathartic healing he needs by sharing his experience with Darlene. She would start to see the truth behind Elliot, growing up as a kid, and the signs Edward displayed as a predator. Elliot would cry and they would talk. Really, Elliot would lean into trusting and sharing with his sister which is something they desperately need. For the both of them.

Maybe this is the fic idea? My gut tells me so. Still, it flutters in mind. It’s not quite the itch! We’ll see in time~~

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

- I would say Brian Kelly from Gleaming The Cube. I’m such a Christian Slater fan and I’m a wholesome bean. Who doesn’t love teen angst, kindness, warmth, and a bit of rebellion? He’s really such a nice kid trying to avenge his brother’s death, Vinh. 

I wish I could hug him and throw him up into the air and shower him with love. Such a good guy, I wish I had someone like that in my life. In-person!

On the MR side, I would say Elliot. But he’s so difficult to write- he’s emotionally reserved and cut off. I usually sway to writing from Tyrell’s perspective because it’s easier for me! He’s irrational, delusional, and clearly has bipolar disorder. In the Mr verse, it’s easier for me to emotionally register into a character like that because I know what’s like to fall apart and have the world you thought you knew to be lost. And he’s grabbing onto a waypoint- Elliot- that he bases his worldview on him. It’s not healthy but luckily we all grow. I’m playing to my own tune and jamming hardcore. *Insert guitar solo*

24. Would you say your writing has changed over time?

Yes! I started off writing through poetry and roleplaying on Tumblr. Writing on AO3 is actually new to me. I’ve shifted from a short plotline to more fleshed out and developed characters. I try and make the world more immersive through sound and the character’s emotional development. I’m still working on the second part, sometimes I want to push things along and get to the more important stuff. But! It’s crucial. Hopefully, people can see that it’s something I’m developing. Maybe I need to publish more fics! I probably do lol. They’re coming along, I needed a break from writing. I want to come back to it. I want to finish the stories I’ve written.

Below: Trigger warning: Sex, rape mention, bloody smut, physical violence/abuse?, scat, hardcore pornography discussion.

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

Yeah! I think my writing gives off a different perspective of myself than what it is. I’m actually a quiet person unless I know you and then I can get very chatty. I’m also very sex-positive (not to drum up drama, I’m not interested in that) but I think the discussion of healthy boundaries is important. Even as writers. That’s why (personally speaking, not a shot at anyone) I don’t write real people fiction smut. I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of uncomfortable sexual desire and so, for me, this is my personal boundary line. I can write, I can express desire in a way that is also removed from the actors themselves, and they aren’t experiencing uncomfortable feelings unless they go hunting for it.

Other people got their own boundaries and feelings on the matter and that’s okay. They’re valid! It’s just not for me and that’s okay. It works for other people! 

On the other hand, I fucking planned to make my Bachelor of Art thesis on pornography and the way women are treated in pornography. And it wasn’t for the faint of heart- I’m talking scat porn, mutilation, beating, and drug use. The question of consent and regulation was a big question posed in my thesis- because when you have a half-conscious, cut up, bleeding person (really regardless of gender here) you gotta wonder why a person would do this for money. What are their circumstances? Is this their independent choice? What does this say about us, the people who consume it? The ones filming it- are they responsible for this person in any way? Is this *waves hand at the content* ethical? What does it do to us- the ones consuming it? Because there is a growing audience for it, and the internet only makes it more accessible. It’s going to go away either, it’s always been there. But what do we do about it? If anything at all?

And it’s all free baby. You can find this stuff through an easy google search and there are hordes of videos. You can even find people fucking dead bodies. Shot, bleeding, and they’re being fucked. Raped? Who the fuck knows!

So, it’s all about the discussion. Everyone has their right to do what they want, but sometimes I step back and go, “Whoa, is this even right?” And listen to my gut feeling. But I also do a ton of research to understand both sides. I’d rather learn and fully understand before I take action and have a hard stance as opposed to shutting something down before knowing more.

Also, this why I’m not trying to stir the pot. I like to talk and understand things. The world is far more grey than we make it out to be. It’s complicated! And that’s okay.

And hey, I’m the one making that content too! It says something about me and that’s okay. I throw guns and hitting in my own smut/artwork. I’m not an angel myself and I’ve consumed some dark content in the name of desire. It says something about me and I’m alright with that. Like I said, I’m not trying to create drama. I have the right to express myself and talk.

Motivations- fuck, I want more shows like MR. Hard, gritty, and rebellious. You can be mentally ill or really, a whole fucking person even in the moments when we feel guilty for being ‘broken’ or ‘crazy’ and still be a person. Mentally ill people can still have desire and do wonderful, powerful things in their life. No one is better than the other. We’re equal. 

Also, the show has incredible writing. I don’t want it to end- but I bet you could guess that one, huh? 

[kashmirichaiwithmehr]

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