#in terms of notes on the update...

[luuxxart]

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🌟updates weekly (approximately Saturday and Sunday)🌟

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[masterhandss]

Anzu & Ensemble Girls references (but it's mostly just her little step-brother)

I really enjoy drawing tenn(kousei)-kun, I just thing the ensembleverse protags are so interestinfg!! (depictions aren't 100% accurate btw but based on other fanon works with him in it)

[jimlingss]

two years!! :D it’s been two years since my final curtain call and seven years since Jimlingss began! Seven years!!! Now that’s a crazy yet meaningful number!

Hello to everyone reading this message :D hopefully you remember me (it’s ok if you don’t) and for those who care, hopefully this is a treat! just a quick update on my life — I successfully completed my first year of law school and what a whirlwind it’s been. 

I’ve had so many ups and downs in the past year and I honestly feel like I’ve changed a lot. like evolved from pichu to pikachu. It was my first time moving away from home, away from my parents, and making so many friends. it’s been 20% bitter and 80% sweet. overall, I feel like I’ve learnt so much about myself and became a lot more stable in who I am.

school is hard but completely manageable. luckily, I don’t think my choice was wrong. there are days I quite enjoy what I’m learning. I got 2 years left in the game. soon (hopefully) I’ll be making the big bucks $$$ and I’ll be able to fund my sugar baby dreams (except I’ll also be my own sugar mommy). Although my dating life is as stale as always with 0 movement, I’ve become close with a handful of folks that I hold dearly to my heart. guess I’m in my friendship arc hahahaha

funny enough, I actually came back to this blog out of my own volition 2 weeks ago and re-read some of my stories. I feel so nostalgic. some of my stories really slap ngl. anyway, I really miss creative writing so much. Fortunately, there’s a few extracurriculars at school that allow me to write creatively so it’s somewhat of an outlet for me. it’s not fully satisfying but it’s something!!

I regularly come back to tumblr to check messages and do plagiarism checks lol. Speaking of which, I’ll take this time to answer some messages in my inbox.

unfortunately, i don’t have any socials that anyone can follow me on. my socials are pretty private and only the people who i’m close to, I follow and vice versa. but no worries because I will always come back to this blog to do a yearly update so you’ll hear from me! I will satiate your curiosity if you’re every curious about what I’m up to!!

for anyone who ever messages me compliments to my stories and/or missing my presence, no worries, I read them all :) your messages and feedback is never lost! it’s very sweet and always warms my heart.

if you can’t reach my masterlist, it’s here lol

I’ve kind of fallen off my fic reading game so if you ask me if I know a specific fic, I won’t be much of help unfortunately ://

if my fics ever help you through hard times, then I’m super glad!!! life can undoubtably be downright terrible. life can really really suck (understatement). but I think it’s comforting to know that everyone at some point thinks the same. it’s a universal sentiment - and in that, you’re not alone.

anyway, that’s it for now! you’ll hear from me again!

I’ll be back! And I hope you will too! :>

[redfurrycat]

🚀🤖Pacific Rim and Top Gun (AU)🤖🚀

Tom Iceman Kazansky, Commander of the Pacific Fleet, the military branch of the Pan Pacific Defense Corps, brings back to the Miramar Shatterdome the former Jaeger pilot Pete Maverick Mitchell to teach the new Rangers how to become better Jaeger pilots as well as to combat the Kaiju.

He’s the last known Jaeger pilot alive to have defeated three kaiju, despite the fact he was piloting his Jaeger alone – his former co-pilot Nick Goose Bradshaw had died during a previous simulation exercise leaving Mav without a compatible match, though it didn’t deter Mav from piloting his Jaeger alone to save another Jaeger team – Ron Slider Kerner & Tom Iceman Kazansky...

However, the successful rescue (followed by Iceman’s declaration of undying love and admiration for him – ‘Shut up, Ron! It’s not true!’ had said an unnaturally flustered Ice after Mav and Ice’s wingmen hug moment) left Maverick with severe neurological injuries including phantom memories from Goose as he died while they were still connected to each other.

It’s like having a piece of someone within your body and soul, only that this person is no longer alive, and it could be quite traumatic for somebody new to attempt a drift connection with one-and-a-half person. (Partly why Maverick was shut out from the Jaeger program, that and his famously known chaotic nature, of course.)

Because to able to pilot a Jaeger, you have to share what is known as a drift compatibility with your co-pilot. Drifting requires the pilots to share their memories, instinct and emotions with each other, and it allows them to act as one consciousness and control the very movement of the Jaeger itself, each pilot controlling one hemisphere. While drifting, pilots need to keep their mind clear of all thoughts [psspss like the ‘no mind’ from The Last Samurai! 👼🏻] to avoid R.A.B.I.T – the following of a memory to the point of losing the focus you need to control the Jaeger. As such, drift compatibility is a potential that exists between two people, that is usually determined through sparring exercises in the Kwoon Combat Room, the point is not to beat your opponent but whether or not you’re able to work in sync with each other. {Source: the Pacific Rim Fandom Page about Drift}

Twelve new Rangers are called back to the Miramar Shatterdome, under the command of Marshal Beau Cyclone Simpson. Most of them are already paired up in a Jaeger.

However, Maverick wants to try some out-of-the-box thinking by changing the designated pair of each Jaeger.  "Because –says Mav reading from a stack of disorganized papers, in front of Cyclone, Warlock, and Iceman– according to research, the Kaiju are sentient beings very much capable of in-depth reasoning, something they weren’t to do before, and, as such, I feel the need, the need to change some shit up to try throwing them off."

Thus begin the tests for new drift-compatible partners…

Before:

The Crimson Typhoon team – Bob, Phoenix, Rooster.

The Striker Eureka team – Coyote & Hangman.

The Gipsy Danger team – Fanboy & Payback.

The Cherno Alpha team – Fritz & Halo.

The Guardian Bravo team – Harvard, Omaha & Yale.

After:

The Striker Eureka team – Rooster & Hangman.

The Bracer Phoenix team – Fritz & Phoenix.

The Gipsy Danger team – Halo, Payback & Yale.

The Crimson Typhoon team – Bob, Fanboy & Omaha.

The Coyote Tango team – Coyote & Harvard.

The Cherno Alpha team – Iceman & Mav. [Even though it's super risky for the two of them, they’ll pilot one last time, and for the first time together, to help assist and rescue the Jaegers teams sent to drop a bomb to close the Breach, cutting the passage between the Earth and the Kaiju homeworld, once and for all.]

Let’s just say that the changes are not smooth for every pilot. Some get to stay in the Jaeger they’ve known all along, others don’t (let’s say some neural handshakes allowing the drifting function better in a particular Jaeger with a particular pair).

Rooster, for instance, used to be in a three-neural-handshake, and now must share with only one person, the –absolutely "despicable"– flawless Hangman. And Hangman is a bit frustrated ‘cause he used to be the best with his Coyote bro…and now feels like falling behind because of Rooster. So, he may or may not be overly provocative with his new co-pilot who thinks too much and follows the R.A.B.I.T every time he drifts with Hangman. [Nevertheless, before Rooster spirals out of control, there is a very strong neural handshake, the strongest ever registered. They just need to sort their shit out first.]

Bonus Hangster Conversation

(inspired by my beloved Chaleigh babes' stellar conversation in the movie)

Hangman: So you're the guy, eh Rooster? You're the guy who's going to be my new co-pilot?

Rooster: Yeah, Hangman. That's the plan.

Hangman: Good. Good. So, remind me again. When was the last time you jockeyed, Brad?

Rooster: You know very well it was three months ago with Tasha and Bobby…’Cause you were there!

Hangman: Colour me shocked with the way you weren’t able to stop following the R.A.B.I.T earlier…Looked like you were a Jaeger groupie just given the opportunity to pilot a Jaeger for the first time of his life. You’re a Ranger, act like one!

Rooster: Excuse-me for taking the time to feel the new Jaeger and my new co-pilot! It’s easy for you to say! Let me reorganize my feathers or something before jumping into it!

Hangman: Oh, wow, that's great. I mean, that's really useful. We get into a fight, you can build our way out of it with wings, as we won’t move a single hair of our Jaeger, eh, Brad?

Rooster: It's Bradley.

Hangman: Whatever. Look, I know you’re Commander Kazansky and Ranger Mitchell’s golden goose, but to me, so far, you're dead weight. You slow me down, I'm gonna drop you like a sack of Kaiju shit. *fingers guns and winking combo followed by dramatic exit*

[frankenfossil]

The Bright Side update!

[softgrungeprophet]

me designing characters: turquoise! purple! black! red and gold!

[kijosakka]

sitting here literally typing up diagrams for the dynamics in hadys and. realizing my grasp on the canon characters are too flimsy for the fic im trying to write. like im gna have to comb through three (3) whole seasons and pick them all apart properly to feel satisfied in my development with them

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 24: i've got a head full of chemicals, mouth full of ridicule

Goodbye note

3471 Words; Acrobat & the Spider

TW for the arachnophobic peeps bc gisu is a spider

AO3 ver

Gisu pushed open the door to the ballroom.

Or, well, it used to be a ballroom, but with the webbing and ropes and trapeze filling it, it wasn’t much a ballroom now. Maybe a bigtop? Indoor circus tent, now that was an idea!

Dion was lying down in the middle of the floor, his arms out to his sides as he stared up at the ceiling. It was weird, to see him so still—as long as Gisu had known him (which was both shorter and longer than she expected, huh) he had always been moving in one way or another, always full of anxious energy.

Well, what little she could pick up of his thoughts—damn curse, cutting her powers in half—was still anxious, at least. But it was more than his baseline.

Gisu walked over, coming to a stop a few feet away from Dion. His eyes flicked over to her, briefly, before returning to the ceiling.

“You okay?” She asked, sitting down. Well, more like letting her abdomen rest against the floor, all four legs splayed out around her, but it was the closest one could get to sitting when they were a giant spider monster, so it still counted.

Dion’s eyes closed, and he exhaled slowly.

The silence stretched on. Gisu pulled some spare thread from her spinnerets, twisting it between all four of her hands. Even so, her brain kept buzzing, latching onto Dion’s anxiety and bouncing it around in her head.

“They shouldn’t be waiting on me.” Dion said, finally, still staring at the ceiling. “They shouldn’t—I’m twenty-two. They don’t need to wait on me.”

Gisu said nothing. What could she say? She was the one who had asked Dion to stay here.

“And it’s not like I don’t get it.” Dion continued, “They’re worried. They have every right to be. But—” He swallowed, exhaling sharply as his jaw tightened and his brow furrowed, “I’m fine. I’m fine, and they’re—” He turned his head to look at Gisu, long brown curls pooling on the floor around him. “They’re losing money trying to find me.”

Gisu’s hands stilled as guilt washed over her. She’d done this. She’d asked Dion to stay here, with her, and now he and his family (his family, who he cared about so much it hurt) were suffering for it. This was her fault.

She should say something, anything to relieve the stress permeating the room. The room that they had been laughing and flinging themselves across only a day ago, chasing each other around and around without ever touching the floor.

Dion sat up, his legs folded in front of him. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his forehead on his knees, the buzzing anxiety of his thoughts hitting a crescendo. The bracelet that Gisu had made for him glinted in the light, and Gisu struggled to swallow a fresh gulp of guilt.

The silence stretched on. Gisu raised a hand to her mouth, gingerly tracing the edge of a chelicerae. Her fur had tickled him, when they kissed.

(But he had persisted anyway.)

Her chest had fluttered, when they’d kissed. She had felt on top of the world, she had felt wanted and pretty—

It was far from fluttering now.

“I miss them.” Dion admitted, his voice cracking. “I miss them all so much.”

“I’m sorry.” Gisu wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. She’d done this. She’d asked him to stay. She’d separated Dion from his family. This was her fault.

“If there was just some way I could talk to them…” Dion stared off into space, his arms wrapped around himself as he slowly rocked in place. His head was a mess of static to what little psychic senses Gisu still had.

Gisu turned her head away. She couldn’t look at Dion right now.

(She had never wanted to stop looking at him, never wanted to let him go.)

“None of us can leave the mansion.” Gisu said. “Sam can only control animals within the walls.” They had thought to use her minions as a way to talk to the outside world, when the curse had first been cast. They’d quickly learned that there was no talking to the outside world.

Dion muttered something. Gisu only caught the words Lizzie and gossip and treats, but now Dion was staring off into space contemplatively.

None of them could leave the mansion. It was a fact of their curse that couldn’t be changed. There was no way for them to contact the outside world—chances were it had long moved on without them, moved on while they were all stuck.

“Maybe…” Dion stood, snapping Gisu from her spiral. He was snapping his hand like he was trying to jog his memory, long legs powering him in a quick pace around the room. “That might work.” He muttered.

Gisu tilted her head. “What might work?” God, she could watch him for hours like this, full of energy. He already made for great background noise when she was working, rambling and muttering and moving—but when he had an idea? When his eyes lit up and he started walking on his hands trying to think through a problem? It was fascinating.

Dion didn’t respond, too lost in whatever he was thinking as he made his way out towards the door. Gisu managed to catch the image of a letter in his mind—and then he was gone.

Gisu huffed, annoyance briefly overriding her guilt. He could let her help! Maybe he had gotten it in his head that he had to handle it all on his own—Gisu was no stranger to that kind of thinking, loathe as she was to admit it.

Gisu frowned, and looked back up at the ceiling. Maybe Dion was right to want to do this—whatever it was—himself, she thought, as she looked at the webbing and rope strung up across the room, at the giant improvised trapeze. It had started as Dion’s project, when Gisu had handed the room over to him to do with as he wished—and then she had gotten her grubby hands all over it and added webs all over. And it had been fun, running around up there, her spider paws gripping the ceiling while Dion flipped from perch to perch like a budgie on crack—

But was this what Dion had envisioned, when he’d started building his makeshift trapeze? Or had he wanted something closer to the home that he missed? Were her additions even wanted at all?

(He had kissed her like he wanted it, like he wanted her—

She wanted him. She wanted him to want her. And not just to break the curse.)

Gisu had asked him to stay—with the (false, but he still fell for it) threat of keeping his younger brother instead—and he had stayed, but it wasn’t fair. Not to Dion. Not to anyone.

Gisu clenched her hands into fists. “I did this.” It was just like her, really—always screwing up in one way or another. Whatever Dion was planning to do with his letter, it was only because Gisu had asked him to stay.

“What would you even do?” She asked the door. What was Dion even planning? There wasn’t really a way to get the letter out of the forest. None of them could leave the mansion.

Gisu paused. None of them could leave the mansion—

None of them except Dion. Dion, who had agreed to stay on Gisu’s request, but who wasn’t beholden to the curse. Dion, who loved his family so much it almost hurt to hear him talk about them. Dion, who Gisu wanted so badly just because he made her feel wanted—

Gisu stood. She had messed up, but that was just part of being an engineer.

It was time she did something to fix the mess she’d caused.

+=+=+=+=+

Am I really going to do this?

Gisu wrung her hands—all four of them. All of her fur was standing on end, all of her senses screaming danger at her. Yet still, here she was, one of her hind legs twitching in anticipation.

Still, she had to do this. It was for the best.

Steeling her nerves, Gisu pushed open the study door. There were quite a few studies in the mansion, truth be told, but there was only one that was really used regularly. And she could faintly feel Dion’s mental print in there, so it wasn’t even a guess—she knew he was in there.

And there he was, hunched over balancing on his toes in a chair, writing something on a piece of paper—the letter Gisu had seen in his thoughts?

Dion looked up at her entrance. He blinked, looking like a deer in headlights for half a moment before his face split into a wide grin. “Hey, Паучок.”

Gisu almost snorted at the nickname—almost. She couldn’t let herself get distracted; she had a job to do. She maneuvered into the room with some difficulty—truly, this mansion was not quite built for giant spider monsters—and stood there, trying to gather the words.

Dion turned back to the desk.

Right. It was now or never. If Gisu didn’t do this now, she’d never find the courage. “You need to leave.” Gisu started. It was for the best, really—Dion deserved better than some run-down mansion and a monster who only messed everything up.

Dion looked at her, his brow furrowed. “Why?” And oh, there went Gisu’s resolve—

No! She could still do this! It was for the best, even if it hurt!

“You can’t stay here.” Gisu continued, wringing her inferior hands nervously. “You shouldn’t stay here.” Dion wasn’t the kind of guy who could just leave his family behind, he deserved to see them again and put all of this behind him—

“What are you talking about?” Dion had come to stand in front of her, his hand cupping Gisu’s face just behind her chelicerae. “Is there some kind of danger?”

Gisu pulled away and shook her head. “Please, Dion.” She urged. “You need to leave. You need to go home.” Because this wasn’t his home, this was just a building she’d trapped him in, and he deserved so much better than some monster who only wanted him around to break her curse.

“What’s gotten into you?” Dion’s thoughts were quickly becoming static stress against Gisu’s head. She wished she could see all of his thoughts, could understand how he felt about this—no, that was invasive. Just another way that Gisu messed everything up.

“I’ve had some realizations, that’s all.” Gisu explained. “It’s not fair for you to be stuck here.” Not with her.

Dion frowned. “Gisu, I promised to stay here—”

Gisu grasped his hands in her superiors, her inferior hands still wringing. “But your family—”

Dion’s face fell. He looked away. “It’ll work out. They’re strong.” He murmured. A moment later, he looked back at her, resolve in his eyes. “I’m going to let them know I’m okay, or they’ll give up and move on.”

“But you miss them,” Gisu stressed, “You’re homesick, Dion, don’t try to deny it.” Dion needed to get out of here. It was for the best.

“Of course I’m homesick!” Dion leaned in closer, “But it’s okay, okay? I’m an Aquato. I can make this mansion home.” His eyes closed, and he ran his thumbs over Gisu’s hands.

Gisu pulled her hands away. “No you can’t.” She muttered.

“And why not?” Dion put his hands on his hips, “Why can’t I stay here?” He crossed his arms. “Well?”

“You need to leave.” Gisu repeated. It was for the best. “You should be home, with your family.” She stressed. “Please.”

“What part of ‘I’m okay here’ are you not getting?” Dion grit out. “Gisu, I’m not trapped here. Not with you.”

The words hit Gisu like a hammer. She flinched back, all of her resolve leaving her—

No. No, Dion needed to leave. It was for the best.

“No, you don’t get it!” Gisu grabbed Dion’s shoulders in her superior hands. “You’re not supposed to be here, Dion, you’re not supposed to be trapped in his hellhole with me.” She stared him down, all but begging him to just give up, “You could have left at any point. You should have left at any point.” He shouldn’t be here, stuck in this decaying mansion with her. It was for the best for him to leave. It was for the best.

Dion grasped her inferior hands in his. “But your curse—”

“Enough about the curse!” Gisu shouted. Like it would ever break, anyway. “You couldn’t break it even if you tried.” Wait, no, that wasn’t what she meant to say—

Dion’s eyes widened. “Then what was the point of me staying here?” He asked, his voice starting to rise in pitch. “What, are you not actually cursed and you’ve just been lying this whole time?”

“Maybe I have!” Gisu tore her hands away from his, throwing all four of them into the air. “It doesn’t matter!” Yes, good, she needed him to get angry, needed him to leave before she broke something she couldn’t fix. She loomed over him, straightening her forelegs to get as much height as she could—they were about eye-level, now.

“It doesn’t matter.” She shoved out at him with her superior arms. “Leave.”

Dion stumbled back several steps. “Gisu?” He sounded so small.

“You heard me.” Gisu growled. “Get out.” It was for the best. It was for the best to let Dion go.

“What is wrong with you?!” Dion shouted. “First you’re all over me and now you’re telling me to leave?” At once, his anger fell, worry filling his features. “Mio cara, what’s going on?”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Gisu’s anger hit a fever pitch. She shoved, knocking Dion bodily to the floor and following him down. “You idiot.” She growled, her voice threatening to crack. Her eyes stung. She planted her superior hands to the sides of Dion’s head. “You shouldn’t BE HERE!” It was for the best.

Dion stared up at her with wide eyes. His chest heaved.

Gisu leaned in closer, all of her thoughts falling away. “I could crush your head.” She growled, “Right between my mandibles.” She grabbed his jaw with one of her inferior hands, holding it harshly. “I could bite you and you’d die from the venom in my fangs.” She tightened her grip, drawing a small gasp from Dion. “I could kill you. You shouldn’t be here.” She let go of Dion’s jaw. His head fell back to the floor, and his eyes slipped shut as he wheezed a shuddered exhale.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Gisu asked, her anger pounding in her skull. “Of course it does—I’m a monster.” She grinned, anger baring her teeth. “So leave.”

Dion stared up at her, his eyes wide.

“Run away.” Gisu snarled, still looming over Dion. “Run away to your real family and let them make it all better for you.” She leaned in closer—

The room spun as Dion’s fist slammed into her face, forcing her up and backwards. Dion scrambled out from under Gisu as she held her head in her hands, stars dancing across her vision.

She looked up at him. Dion had a hand held over his mouth, absolute horror in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I didn’t mean—”

Gisu growled. “Get out.”

Dion wasted no more time arguing with her.

His footsteps faded out down the hallway, on and on until Gisu couldn’t hear them, couldn’t feel the vibrations in her legs.

She exhaled shakily, and stood.

The room was so quiet, now.

Still, Gisu reminded herself as she made her way to the door, it was for the best.

Even if it didn’t feel like it.

+=+=+=+=+

Gisu grunted, driving her screwdriver into the head of the screw. Taking things apart and putting them back together was supposed to be therapeutic. And it was, but—

Gisu growled, burying those thoughts. It was her fault, anyway—she was the one who went and got attached to something she could never have.

“Uh, hey, Gisu?” The radio next to her workstation crackled to life, Morris’ voice coming in steady. “Why did Dion just climb over the wall?”

Gisu regarded the radio for a moment, before returning to the broken clock in her hands. “He left.” She said.

The radio was silent for a moment.

“Wh—why?” Morris asked. “I thought he was all over you?”

“He got homesick.” Gisu explained, “So he left.” It was for the best, anyway. Dion deserved so much better than a monster.

“Okay, no way.” The radio crackled. “I know what it sounds like when you’re hiding something.” Morris accused, “So spill.”

“I made him leave, is that what you wanted?” Gisu threw one of her superior hands out as she spoke. “He was better off back with his family, anyway!”

There was silence for a moment. Then—

“Gisu.” Morris’ voice was edged with incredulity. “What the fuck.”

Gisu grumbled. “It’s over.” She muttered. “He’s gone.”

“No, genuinely,” Morris continued, like Gisu hadn’t spoken at all, “What is wrong with you?”

Gisu froze. “What are you talking about?” She’d fixed the problem. It was for the best.

“I’m talking about the fact that you chased away the one good chance of breaking the curse because what, you were too afraid to confront your own feelings?” Morris’ voice crackled with static, like nails against the chalkboard of Gisu’s ears. “Oh, sure,” He went on, “You’ll read all your romance novels, write all your silly self-insert fanfiction, but the moment you find yourself caring about something that isn’t mechanical you get too scared to do anything but shove it all away.”

Gisu snarled. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Dion’s family was important to him, it wasn’t fair to keep him here—

“Ha!” Morris snorted. “Please! You barely even care about the rest of us!” He accused, the dials on the radio darting back and forth. “I bet the only reason you care about me is because you can just pretend I’m another one of your stupid machines!”

Gisu gasped. “I care!”

“Really?” Even without a body, Morris’ agitation came through loud and clear. “Because I’m pretty sure chasing away the one solid chance for me to get my body back is the opposite of caring!” The radio made a slamming noise, then a string of honks and whistles—Morris was getting really worked up, now.

“We’re all cursed!” Gisu slammed her inferior hands on the table. She crossed her superior arms, giving up on the broken clock laid out before her. “Stop making this about yourself!”

Morris’ voice was incredulous. “I’m the one making this about myself? Have you looked in a mirror?” He huffed, “Of course you haven’t.” He muttered. “Because then maybe Lizzie could knock some sense into you.”

“I’m not the one who needs sense knocked into them.” Gisu shot back. “I keep this mansion running, you know!” She started counting on her fingers. “I keep the lights powered, I keep the heaters from falling apart—I’m the one who makes sure all these radios actually work!” Yeah, Adam and Sam handled the firewood and keeping the mirrors clean, but still. Without Gisu, there’d be nobody to power and fix the radios.

“That doesn’t mean you get to chase away the one chance we had of getting uncursed, Gis!” Morris yelled back. “You don’t get to make that decision for us!”

“Oh, like there won’t be other chances.” Gisu snarled through gritted teeth. “You don’t need to be so impatient.”

Morris sighed. “I want my body back, Gisu.” His voice was heavy with grief. “I want to be able to see colors again, and not just my own noise reflected back at me.” The radio clattered. “But you don’t get that, do you? You still have your body.” He laughed hollowly. “Your curse is that you’re ugly.” Morris remarked, “And the guy you liked didn’t even care about that.” The radio went silent, then, leaving Morris’ remark to hang in the air like smoke.

Gisu yelled, sweeping the radio off of its stand. It fell to the floor with a clatter, but remained silent.

Gisu stared at it, her chest heaving. Her throat got tight, all four of her eyes started to sting—

Fuck. As much as she wanted to deny it, Morris was right. She’d messed up. She’d messed everything up.

Gisu let herself fall to the floor, arms curling around herself. “Fuck.” She sobbed.

She’d fucked up. But it was too late, now—Dion had already crossed the outer walls. There was nothing Gisu could do to fix the mess she made.

She laughed darkly. “At least I can’t fuck it up worse.” Doing so would be hard—even for her.

That fact wasn’t a comfort.

[madigoround]

Guess who now has an official ao3 account!!!

[updates-on-docm77]

Doc tweeted!

[youngerfrankenstein]

Okay, been trawling the trenches of SF (yeah yeah) and I now have some story spoilers to share with anyone who’s curious. Under the cut.

So the popular theory that Veyle was going to be a villain were correct. She’s the daughter of the Fell Dragon and a sort of character foil to Alear. I still would not be surprised if she joins up later.

They apparently take away your ability to rewind time and a bunch of your Emblems for a few chapters, which seems annoying and arbitrary to me.

The pacing of the story is apparently pretty darn breakneck and Shonen.

[casbeeminestiel]

Oh btw if you don’t believe advocacy works on the state/local level, y’all should check out what’s been happening with the Florida state parks the past week or two.

[faebunnyleap]

.

[literaryvein-references]

Writing Notes & References

Alchemy ⚜ Antidote to Anxiety ⚜ Attachment ⚜ Autopsy

Art: Elements ⚜ Principles ⚜ Photographs ⚜ Watercolour

Bruises ⚜ Caffeine ⚜ Color Blindness ⚜ Cruise Ships

Children ⚜ Children's Dialogue ⚜ Childhood Bilingualism

Dangerousness ⚜ Drowning ⚜ Dystopia ⚜ Dystopian World

Culture ⚜ Culture Shock ⚜ Ethnocentrism & Cultural Relativism

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[plushri]

I literally don't know how to relax so I'm making my notes for third year...

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“If buying isn’t owning, piracy isn’t stealing”

20 years ago, I got in a (friendly) public spat with Chris Anderson, who was then the editor in chief of Wired. I'd publicly noted my disappointment with glowing Wired reviews of DRM-encumbered digital devices, prompting Anderson to call me unrealistic for expecting the magazine to condemn gadgets for their DRM:

https://longtail.typepad.com/the_long_tail/2004/12/is_drm_evil.html

I replied in public, telling him that he'd misunderstood. This wasn't an issue of ideological purity – it was about good reviewing practice. Wired was telling readers to buy a product because it had features x, y and z, but at any time in the future, without warning, without recourse, the vendor could switch off any of those features:

https://memex.craphound.com/2004/12/29/cory-responds-to-wired-editor-on-drm/

I proposed that all Wired endorsements for DRM-encumbered products should come with this disclaimer:

WARNING: THIS DEVICE’S FEATURES ARE SUBJECT TO REVOCATION WITHOUT NOTICE, ACCORDING TO TERMS SET OUT IN SECRET NEGOTIATIONS. YOUR INVESTMENT IS CONTINGENT ON THE GOODWILL OF THE WORLD’S MOST PARANOID, TECHNOPHOBIC ENTERTAINMENT EXECS. THIS DEVICE AND DEVICES LIKE IT ARE TYPICALLY USED TO CHARGE YOU FOR THINGS YOU USED TO GET FOR FREE — BE SURE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF BUYING ALL YOUR MEDIA OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AT NO TIME IN HISTORY HAS ANY ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY GOTTEN A SWEET DEAL LIKE THIS FROM THE ELECTRONICS PEOPLE, BUT THIS TIME THEY’RE GETTING A TOTAL WALK. HERE, PUT THIS IN YOUR MOUTH, IT’LL MUFFLE YOUR WHIMPERS.

Wired didn't take me up on this suggestion.

But I was right. The ability to change features, prices, and availability of things you've already paid for is a powerful temptation to corporations. Inkjet printers were always a sleazy business, but once these printers got directly connected to the internet, companies like HP started pushing out "security updates" that modified your printer to make it reject the third-party ink you'd paid for:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Now, this scam wouldn't work if you could just put things back the way they were before the "update," which is where the DRM comes in. A thicket of IP laws make reverse-engineering DRM-encumbered products into a felony. Combine always-on network access with indiscriminate criminalization of user modification, and the enshittification will follow, as surely as night follows day.

This is the root of all the right to repair shenanigans. Sure, companies withhold access to diagnostic codes and parts, but codes can be extracted and parts can be cloned. The real teeth in blocking repair comes from the law, not the tech. The company that makes McDonald's wildly unreliable McFlurry machines makes a fortune charging franchisees to fix these eternally broken appliances. When a third party threatened this racket by reverse-engineering the DRM that blocked independent repair, they got buried in legal threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cold-war

Everybody loves this racket. In Poland, a team of security researchers at the OhMyHack conference just presented their teardown of the anti-repair features in NEWAG Impuls locomotives. NEWAG boobytrapped their trains to try and detect if they've been independently serviced, and to respond to any unauthorized repairs by bricking themselves:

https://mamot.fr/@q3k@hackerspace.pl/111528162905209453

Poland is part of the EU, meaning that they are required to uphold the provisions of the 2001 EU Copyright Directive, including Article 6, which bans this kind of reverse-engineering. The researchers are planning to present their work again at the Chaos Communications Congress in Hamburg this month – Germany is also a party to the EUCD. The threat to researchers from presenting this work is real – but so is the threat to conferences that host them:

https://www.cnet.com/tech/services-and-software/researchers-face-legal-threats-over-sdmi-hack/

20 years ago, Chris Anderson told me that it was unrealistic to expect tech companies to refuse demands for DRM from the entertainment companies whose media they hoped to play. My argument – then and now – was that any tech company that sells you a gadget that can have its features revoked is defrauding you. You're paying for x, y and z – and if they are contractually required to remove x and y on demand, they are selling you something that you can't rely on, without making that clear to you.

But it's worse than that. When a tech company designs a device for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades, they invite both external and internal parties to demand those downgrades. Like Pavel Chekov says, a phaser on the bridge in Act I is going to go off by Act III. Selling a product that can be remotely, irreversibly, nonconsensually downgraded inevitably results in the worst person at the product-planning meeting proposing to do so. The fact that there are no penalties for doing so makes it impossible for the better people in that meeting to win the ensuing argument, leading to the moral injury of seeing a product you care about reduced to a pile of shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

But even if everyone at that table is a swell egg who wouldn't dream of enshittifying the product, the existence of a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature makes the product vulnerable to external actors who will demand that it be used. Back in 2022, Adobe informed its customers that it had lost its deal to include Pantone colors in Photoshop, Illustrator and other "software as a service" packages. As a result, users would now have to start paying a monthly fee to see their own, completed images. Fail to pay the fee and all the Pantone-coded pixels in your artwork would just show up as black:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/28/fade-to-black/#trust-the-process

Adobe blamed this on Pantone, and there was lots of speculation about what had happened. Had Pantone jacked up its price to Adobe, so Adobe passed the price on to its users in the hopes of embarrassing Pantone? Who knows? Who can know? That's the point: you invested in Photoshop, you spent money and time creating images with it, but you have no way to know whether or how you'll be able to access those images in the future. Those terms can change at any time, and if you don't like it, you can go fuck yourself.

These companies are all run by CEOs who got their MBAs at Darth Vader University, where the first lesson is "I have altered the deal, pray I don't alter it further." Adobe chose to design its software so it would be vulnerable to this kind of demand, and then its customers paid for that choice. Sure, Pantone are dicks, but this is Adobe's fault. They stuck a KICK ME sign to your back, and Pantone obliged.

This keeps happening and it's gonna keep happening. Last week, Playstation owners who'd bought (or "bought") Warner TV shows got messages telling them that Warner had walked away from its deal to sell videos through the Playstation store, and so all the videos they'd paid for were going to be deleted forever. They wouldn't even get refunds (to be clear, refunds would also be bullshit – when I was a bookseller, I didn't get to break into your house and steal the books I'd sold you, not even if I left some cash on your kitchen table).

Sure, Warner is an unbelievably shitty company run by the single most guillotineable executive in all of Southern California, the loathsome David Zaslav, who oversaw the merger of Warner with Discovery. Zaslav is the creep who figured out that he could make more money cancelling completed movies and TV shows and taking a tax writeoff than he stood to make by releasing them:

https://aftermath.site/there-is-no-piracy-without-ownership

Imagine putting years of your life into making a program – showing up on set at 5AM and leaving your kids to get their own breakfast, performing stunts that could maim or kill you, working 16-hour days during the acute phase of the covid pandemic and driving home in the night, only to have this absolute turd of a man delete the program before anyone could see it, forever, to get a minor tax advantage. Talk about moral injury!

But without Sony's complicity in designing a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature into the Playstation, Zaslav's war on art and creative workers would be limited to material that hadn't been released yet. Thanks to Sony's awful choices, David Zaslav can break into your house, steal your movies – and he doesn't even have to leave a twenty on your kitchen table.

The point here – the point I made 20 years ago to Chris Anderson – is that this is the foreseeable, inevitable result of designing devices for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades. Anyone who was paying attention should have figured that out in the GW Bush administration. Anyone who does this today? Absolute flaming garbage.

Sure, Zaslav deserves to be staked out over an anthill and slathered in high-fructose corn syrup. But save the next anthill for the Sony exec who shipped a product that would let Zaslav come into your home and rob you. That piece of shit knew what they were doing and they did it anyway. Fuck them. Sideways. With a brick.

Meanwhile, the studios keep making the case for stealing movies rather than paying for them. As Tyler James Hill wrote: "If buying isn't owning, piracy isn't stealing":

https://bsky.app/profile/tylerjameshill.bsky.social/post/3kflw2lvam42n

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/08/playstationed/#tyler-james-hill

Image: Alan Levine (modified) https://pxhere.com/en/photo/218986

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/