#it’s possible that this is less of a money barrier than i think and more of a being overly worried about things going

[la-principessa-nuova]

it would be nice having enough money to just be able to like go about and not really have to worry about things

which is like a super cryptic way of saying that like i was thinking how nice it would be if i wanted to travel somewhere in the country to be able to just be like “ok, i’m going to take a week off work and i’ll get there somehow.” and like not worry too much about packing things bc like i can just buy what i need along the way if i need something extra.

basically just to like travel but like without any pressure to like be going anywhere in particular or have any plan

idk, just that post about chicago made me think about how i haven’t left the east coast at all and in theory i could just go anywhere

but like in practice i’d want to optimize for cost and make sure i’m packing everything i need so i need to know how long i’ll be gone and like probably which days well in advance like to book flights in advance when they’re cheap and to take time off work and accommodations wherever i go which is even more money and sets very specifically where i will be each night

but like imagine being able to just get on any form of transportation you want going to wherever without planning and then just like when you get to your destination do whatever you want and if you need something you forgot just buy it there and show up at some hotel and just book it for the night

idk it just seems like such freedom

[solbaby7]

En Cognito

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, misogyny, best friends that wanna fuck, sexual tension, possible violence, jealous!az, slowly shifting into slight darker content 👀 hope no one notices

summary: Going undercover alters your appearance more than your friends ever anticipated—now Azriel can’t tear his eyes away.

—

“Stop touching and just relax.”

“I can’t,” You squirm under Mor’s touch. Two hours spent around the city spending obscene amounts of money on a dress and heels that you were only going to wear once. Nimble fingers part through your hair, undoing paper curls and oiled fingers run through the ends of silky strands. Everything is too tight—too exposed. “I am deeply uncomfortable.” Your arms cross behind your back, fingers awkwardly intertwining to create some sort of barrier between your ass and the possibility of peering eyes.

The High Lords cousin doesn’t take it personally, quickly finishing final touches on your makeup and the person you see in the mirror is so far off from what you were used to that it makes your breath catch. “It’s perfect. You’re going to be perfect—they won’t be able to keep their eyes off of you.”

Your hand shakes at the thought, painted fingers curling around the glass of champagne and knocking the whole thing back in one go.

“You’re going to ruin your lipstick.”

“If I don’t have at least two more of those, I’m going to ruin this whole night.” It felt weird having your hair down like this and your fingers twitch to tuck it back into your usual bun but Mor keeps throwing looks over her shoulder while she refills both glasses. Just daring you to fuck up her work.

After the second glass your brain finally stops hyper-fixating on the fact that you can actually feel the bare skin of your thighs touching with each step, an annoying change from the leathers that usually prevented things like this. “It’s just a few dances. Bat your lashes and smile pretty and the intel will come to you, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t think one dress will get me all of that.”

“It’s not about the dress.” She’s rubbing oil into your skin that makes it shine when the light touches, the sweet smell lingering long after you’ve left the room and the whole walk downstairs is filled with gentle reminders on everything she’d been teaching you all week. “It’s you in it. Seriously, where have you been hiding all of this ass?” You swat her hands away, grateful that the others had left far earlier. You could just hear Az and Cass now, eyes rolling at the very thought of their relentless teasing—this would be the topic of many jokes for weeks to come.

Slight sway of your hips, soften the length of your spine, shoulders back and head high. Confident steps even though the heels were fucking killer; five inches of added height and you’d still feel small in a room crawling with fully grown men. The champagne glass is finished and refilled once more before you’re tugged away to the balcony and past the wards.

Usually, winnowing was calming but for some reason, this time it had the hairs on the back of your neck prickling at attention from all the eyes that slid in your direction. “That was subtle.”

“We’re late,” Mor mutters through her teeth, flashing a less than sweet smile to the males undressing her with their eyes. Typical for Hewn City but still fucking disgusting. “I figured a flashy entrance would distract from that. Now, be nice.”

Easier said than done with anxiety beginning to ebb forth, fingers flexing and nails running over the details of your dress. The words from earlier repeat in your mind and instantly your spine straightens, chin raising and the added swish to your hips is enough to attract the attention of any male within a five mile radius.

It’s customary to greet the High Lord and Lady, your heels clicking and face aloof when swiftly curtsying into a respectful bow. “Rise,” Feyre commands, voice strong and filled with unquestionable power but you could see that look in her eye—familial fondness creeping at the edges of blue irises and you’re quick to appear anxious. Less comfortable when surrounded by people you’d known longer than you could put into words. “Join the others, there’s plenty of food and drink for everyone.”

Better judgement screams in your mind not to look just a little to the right; your peripheral catching onto the faint glow of cobalt blue but your eyes slide over without permission.

Azriel looks godly standing guard near his High Lord and Lady. He’s handsomely dressed in one of his fancier pairs of fighting leathers, lethally strapped to the nines with daggers at his thighs, switchblades tucked in pockets or strapped to his ankles and swords that cross at his back, right between his wings.

Like an angel of death; just as tempting as he was deadly.

You look away before he can catch you admiring the tailored cut of sturdy, dark tactical gear stretching across his muscles. Too quickly for you to notice the way he double takes, eyes widening a fraction and stance stiffening ever so slightly when he recognizes the slope of your nose and shape of your mouth glistening in gloss. He nearly chokes on his breath at the accentuation of your figure, curves on full display in a complete juxtaposition to your usual attire and his stare follows as you disappear into the crowd of bodies.

He can’t leave his spot but it doesn’t stop him from sending out his own personal surveillance to keep tabs on the way you shift about the room.

Everywhere you move, eyes follow.

Males halt their conversation, sipping on whiskey so expensive that it probably equates to a months worth of rent but judging by their tailored suits and gold cuff-links—money was the least of their problems.

“A drink, miss?”

Relief works its way into your form when you accept, thanking the waitstaff politely while acting your ass off with the fluttery lashes and doe eyes. It paints a perfect little picture—entrapping susceptible males with overly inflated egos and misogynistic thought processes. You’re almost a little too deep in the facade, aimlessly wandering through the sea of bodies with ears specially attuned to every conversation; sifting through the meaninglessness in order to catch little pieces of a bigger picture that had yet to be deciphered.

“And who might you be?”

“Nobody.” The response is instinctive, a second nature that’s easily smoothed over with a demure smile.

Even you could admit the male was handsome, all solid muscle and alluringly ragged edges. His suit is immaculate, fitting the strong line of his shoulders to perfection as the halfway unbuttoned tunic beneath broadcasts the tawny tones of his chest loitered with inky tattoos. Dark hair frames his face, a silver scar cutting through the thick of one brow and yet its completely overshadowed when in the midst of such beauty. “You certainly don’t look like ‘nobody’ to me.”

Warmth spreads at the nape of your neck, your body affected by the soulful bass of his voice and for a fleeting moment you have to remind yourself of the task at hand.

The male doesn’t give time for you to come up with another one of your carefully curated lies. A hand is extended your way, the faelight above catching on the masculine rings adorning his pinky and pointer fingers when your hand is taken in his own.

It’s almost embarrassing—the spectacle he makes in spinning you slow, taking in every detail with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

Thank the Mother for Mor and her attention to detail, picking out the perfect dress and glimmering diamonds that distracted from the true soldier that burned in your soul, a characteristic that had been exercised for decades enduring Cassian and Azriel’s relentless training regiment.

“Whoever you’ve come with will never recover from the loss he’s about to take,” The males eyes are ravenous, that previously bored darkness finally flickering with life beneath the surface.

The surprised laugh you let out is genuine, a shocked bark of a thing that’s anything but ladylike but he doesn’t seem to mind. “You have a very high sense of self in assuming I’d go anywhere with you considering I don’t have the slightest clue on who you are.”

Another lie added to the steadily growing web. You’d been briefed on every single person in this room, memorized their faces and obsessively studying their lives and known connections until the only thing left was to figure out who possessed the most valuable information. “Who better to trust than Stewards right hand?” Feminine wonder masks the satisfaction of such an easily attained lead and suspicion begins to grow in your gut. Maybe it’s not as well concealed as you’d assumed because the cockiness is dialed down multiple levels and the smile he wears is far more flattering than that entitled smirk. “Call me Atlas.”

Music filters throughout the space and steadily the sea of bodies becomes more uniform, paired up couples shifting about the room with a hardened grace that allowed their movements to appear elegant, even if their faces were stripped of any semblance of emotion. “Atlas,” The name is foreign on your tongue but not entirely unpleasant. “Have any clue where they keep their stash?”

A cheshire grin accompanies the muscular bicep he holds out in offering. “Allow me to lead the way.”

Everything goes as planned, a knowing nod to Mor, a giddy smile when the Stewards second hand tugs you down a hallway, bypassing stationed guards and passing over a small pouch of silver coins to the scrawny soldier standing in front of a thick set of double doors. “Where are we going?”

“You wanted the good stuff. Kier keeps them in his office.” High heels click against the polished floors, taking in the layered colors of obsidian, onyx and oblivion. It’s typical for a male, simple, with just enough overindulgence to make your eyes roll.

“Are we supposed to be in here?”

Atlas moves across the space with ease, unlatching the lock on the liquor cabinet and collecting two glasses and a thick crystal decanter filled halfway with a deep amber liquid. “Are you going to tell on me?”

Every movement you make hold more grace than you’ve mustered up in a century. Femininity oozes from every pore and it’s intoxicating—this males reaction to the slightest graze of your nails against his fingers. It plants a terrifying seed, one eager to learn exactly how far you could take it. How many other people would react the same way?

Your mind takes a turn, sliding a key into a door you’d long since boarded up.

And you can’t help but wonder if the simple seduction would work on Azriel too.

“I can be convinced to keep a secret,” Magic must be used to keep the liquor chilled because the crystal is cold to the touch. “If you show me the balcony too.”

Atlas nods slowly, taking your words entirely different than intended but you don’t bother correcting it. Not when he strides over to the doors with such ease, pulling out a personal set of keys and unlocking them as if he’d done so a million times before.

You supposed Hewn was a sight to behold from this angle, high heels click against the concrete, bracelets clinging against the iron railings as you peer over. In its own, hauntingly beautiful way; a darker part of you could find the appeal if you overlooked the horrors that took place there.

“Now, I’ve snuck you out here, breaking all kinds of rules and jeopardizing my job for you.” If it’s the truth, Atlas has a hell of a way of making it seem nonchalant—every word laced in an amusement you can’t quite place but it’d be lying to say you didn’t find it slightly charming. “Will you finally tell me your name?”

There’s a mischievous sparkle in your eye, a taunting elongation of one leg, the shiny curve of your high heel dragging gently against his ankle. You almost answer when your eyes catch on the shadows in the corner, their color just a little too dark, their ebb just a little too sentient. Of course, Azriel would follow you out there when he believed you were taking too long, playing the perfect position of Night Court security when urging guests away from restricted areas but jealously slips its way into his tone when he finds you and Atlas on the balcony standing a little too close to be considered friendly. “You aren’t supposed to be out here.”

The male with you doesn’t seem the slightest bit deterred, cockily tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear while the other hand fishes out a small pouch full of gold coins from his suit pocket and rudely stuffs it into Azriel’s chest without even looking. “How about you go back inside and give us a few uninterrupted moments to get to know each other?”

Azriel’s brow raises, wings bristling when tracking the two fingers Atlas has grazing down your cheekbone and his tone is eerily even when responding. “Did you come alone tonight?”

“Yes,” Atlas retorts none the wiser, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth. “Though, I have no intentions on leaving how I came.”

“Is that so?” It happens so quickly. Azriel snatching the male away from you, his fist darting out and connecting with Atlas’ jaw with such precision that the impact sends the Steward’s second in command unconscious on the cobblestone. “Mission’s over,” Azriel all but growls, his grip possessive when pulling you in. “We’re leaving.”

“Azriel,” Your eyes widen, glass slipping from your grasp as your brain moves like molasses when trying to comprehend what you’d witnessed. It doesn't bother Az though, his hand a firm weight at the dip of your back, pinky finger just grazing the curve of your ass with every step. “I wasn’t even close to being finished—he was about to give me everything.”

“Oh, I’m more than aware of what he was about to give you.”

He looks like he’s readying himself to winnow the two of you out of there, thick clouds of shadows materializing around his threatening frame but something forces him to decide against it. His jaw clenches, stance rigid and voice clipped when telling you to 'come this way', taking a sharp left turn before shoving your body inside. “Azriel, what the hell?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.” The door slams behind him, lock twisting with a resounding click but none of that distracts from the downright murder-strut Azriel adopts when stalking towards you. Your heart hammers against your chest, heels scraping against the polished floors in your attempts to create space but the male before you eats it all up. “Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?”

The laugh that pushes free is breathless; taken aback. “What?"

A war wages in Azriel's mind as he strains to contain the small semblance of control he's ever been able to gather in your presence. You make him crazy; shove him out of his comfort zone and force him to take risks that his skillful training strictly rejects. You're an enigma, a flame that burns but also provides warmth to those who handle you with care. “I thought you in your leathers was sin.”

You swallow thickly as your body responds to the drop in his voice; the gravel that positively rattles his tone and morphs that strong soldier boy into a predator of a man with ravenous wants and needs. Rapturous desires that plagues his thoughts, tainting his actions and lingering in the void of his shadows with intent to kill.

Shock blends into need as Azriel backs you against the desk, the rigid line of his cock straining against the stitching of his leathers. It digs against your belly; teasing, taunting you with the possibilities. “But then you come waltzing in wearing this dress—cauldron boil me—are you even wearing any underwear?”

"I couldn't," A blush burns at your cheeks, every inch of you sparking to life under his stare. "Mor said panty lines are tacky."

"Then it'd be best you refrain from telling her what happens in here because I'm about to make you sound fucking garish." Hips buck involuntarily, a helpless rut whittling away at whatever self-control Azriel has left. It’s clearly not much because soon his lips are too preoccupied with learning yours and strong hands are busy familiarizing themselves with the curves you usually kept so carefully concealed. Eager fingers run over the tight fabric around your waist, gliding over the length of your stomach and cupping the weight of your breasts, thumbs grazing over peaked nipples. Mapping the canvas of your body like a man starved.

Denying his touch is out of the question; at least that’s what your body decides as it leans into the heavy drag of his weight. For once, you lean into the girlish nature of allowing the male to lead—to comply as Azriel guides your face to his own. Indulging in feverish kisses because he started it and it was only fair for you to finish it.

The lines of friendship blur with his tongue in your mouth and you’re too drunk on the scent of his cologne to question what any of this could mean afterwards. What chaos could ensue from helping him hike the hem of your dress up, up, up with a needy groan. “Can’t believe you hid all of this from me,” Azriel all but whines, golden irises gobbling up the fullness of your thighs. Pupils dilate at your lack of undergarments; the thin leather thigh holsters strapped tight against the muscle of your legs and inky shadows swipe at the weapon secured there—stealing it as a prize.

“Can you blame me?” The words come out breathy, palms dragging along rigid muscle hidden beneath his clothes, nails seconds away from slicing through the offending fabric for more of his warmth, for more of him in general because this male was a thing of dreams. Of carefully curated fantasies that females with far more time on their hands wrote about in their journals. “How would I get any work done with everyone staring at my ass?”

His touch is bold, two fingers sliding between your thighs to slide along the slick that collects between lower lips. "That won't be an issue for you anymore." A gasp forces your lips to part when he circles around your clit, feeling the area around it without actually giving what you want. Azriel likes it more that way; enjoys the ways your legs tremble and chest heaves. "You'll find that people don't stare much at the things that belong to me."

"I'm not yours," You struggle to verbalize the thought fully when he finally applies the right amount of pressure to your neglected bundle of nerves. Quick little circles under the calloused drag of two fingers works a strangled moan free. "I don't belong to anyone," You try to speak it aloud so the point comes across but all that's leaving your lips is pathetic pants of yesyesyes and pretty pleas for moremoremore.

He’s cruel in his torture, pulling his hands away seconds before release can wash over you and a cocky smirk etches in the corner of his mouth. It’s knowing; cognizant of the fact that your orgasm lies in the palm of his hands, rests under the willful press of his fingertips.

“Please?” You whisper, voice cracked; broken, ruined from nothing but his hands alone and you still hadn’t cum yet. Every nerve burns, toes curling, stomach clenching and pussy pulsing around nothing as your hips careen forward—searching for the sweet friction that Azriel just knows how to provide.

You thank the Mother for his lack of revolve, for it had to be her mercy that allows his stubborn defenses to crumble so quickly. To give in and offer everything you’d been begging for . He’s not kind about it; doesn’t coax the orgasm forward but yanks at it like a dog on a leash. It’s claiming the way he watches you through your high, drinking up your sounds and committing the slick sight of you to memory.

He doesn’t even give you enough time to catch your breath before he’s tugging his leathers down his hips, thick fabric bunching at his thighs. “Save your pretty pleas for soft pricks like Aaron.”

“Atlas.”

Azriel’s brow raises, a subtle twitch of muscle that shouldn’t be as threatening as it is. Or at least it wouldn’t be if it wasn’t followed by the ominous drag of his cock through your folds, the heavy weight of him coating itself in your slick.

You know he wants to say something. It’s hanging off the tip of his tongue; some venomous comment fueled by raw, unbridled jealousy. Some sick part of you wants him to say it—maybe then he’ll admit to his feelings; confessing to the tension that permeates when the two of you enter a room or share a joke or brush arms or get a little too heated during training.

“I believe your role tonight is soft and demure,” His voice is deceptively even considering the rough jolt of his hips that bullies the blunt head of his cock deep inside of you. “So don’t use that mouth of yours unless it’s to tell me how good I fucking feel.”

Az holds true to his word because every time your lips part to make some stupid comment for him to slow down or loosen his grip on your hips because you’re sure bruises are forming—Azriel just fucks you harder. Presses the palm of his hand against your mouth to muffle the moans, to seize the symphony of sighs that gasp free when he treats sensitive spots with such aggression.

He can feel your legs shaking, tuts his tongue in hushed amusement when he catches you trying to inch away; searching for a spare second to catch your breath. “Where d’you think you’re going?”

No mercy is shown for your choked breaths when Azriel’s focused on the ripple of your ass with each thrust. “It’s so fucking deep,” The words come out garbled against his palm and it’s only then that he pulls it away, fingers ghosting over the swollen plush of your lips in silent appreciation.

“Filthy pussy’s just sucking me right in,” Your cheeks burn, lids fluttering closed as you try not to acknowledge the fact that his voice and those syllables strung together is just enough to have you clenching around him; slick gushing down the length of him and dripping from the heavy weight of his balls.

A sharp smack of his hand against the fat of your ass; the perfect pinch of pain to accompany the mind-numbing pleasure that wracks through every nerve. “Azriel!”

“Now you remember my name?” His tone is pure venom, every rational part of his brain clouded with envy, leaking with a bitterness that scrunches up the perfect lines of his face. “Can’t believe you were about to give this up to that fucking ingrate.” Cool air breezes against your sex as your ass is lewdly pried open enough for Azriel to stare at the sopping wet mess you make. “Not after I’ve been waiting so godsdammed long for this—for you.” A creamy ring of your cum catches at the base of his cock; cunt clenching over and over and over as he works you through orgasm after orgasm.

Mumbled praises and keening moans are your only reply, knees bending for better leverage as you lean back into the pace he sets. Screw the mission—fuck the objective. Damn anything that wasn’t Azriel and his cock and those perfect hands that claims sweat-slicked skin. You don’t even fight it, succumbing to the pleasure and the male administering it. “Right there!” You barely recognize the sound of your own voice, ears focused on Azriel’s grunts and whispered praises. “So good. So good—fuck!”

“This is mine?” It’s not really a question. That much you know when you feel the pressure of his thumb rubbing circles along your clit. “Say it so I can hear you.”

“Yes!” Eyes roll. Words slur. Fists clutch at polished wood; manicured nails leaving indents in mahogany. “Belongs to you.”

Azriel’s too good—too precise; too determined. Forces him to rut deep and carve out a place inside of you with his name branded on it. Thick ropes of his seed paints quivering walls; claiming with a kind of possessiveness that has your toes permanently curled in your heels.

There’s barely enough time to catch a proper breath or situate your dress when thick wad of papers are smacked before you like a godsdammed gift, all neatly stacked and basically tied with a fucking shadowy bow. All the intel you’d bitched at Az for compromising—written right there in plain sight. “Those are the—you…thank you.”

“Don’t get all sweet for me now,” Azriel muses darkly, affectionately patting at your cheek as if you were some drowsy pup, his head nodding in gesture to the neat stack of stolen papers on the table while swiftly tucking himself away and redoing the ties on his breeches. “I’m only covering for your pretty ass so I can ruin it later.”

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected reader

Smut warning with original characters ⚠️ (no incest)

(gn reader)

________________________

Muffled groans were heard from a crappy apartment, Illustra- a wanted villain, she smiled as she kissed (name) deeply

(Name) Wayne, biological child of Bruce Wayne, born from a one night stand

As the child of a prostitute, Bruce didn't think that this child could ever be special

Focusing on his other much more worthwhile children, only giving (Name) a weekly allowance, letting them pick whatever school they wanted, whatever extracurricular, if they needed money, just tell him through Alfred

At first (Name) tried, when they saw how Damian got Bruce's attention by getting in trouble at school, They tried to do the same

But was met with a lawyer instead of his dad

They also tried with the other batkids, but it seemed like there was this barrier that was separating (Name) from them, like there was something different about them

So you wandered, then you met her, ironically while she was running from batman, she jumped into a random car, it was yours

You slept in your car because Jason was home, and you did not want to try to entertain that mindfuck

And it escalated from that, you knew she was a criminal, you knew she was a thief, she'd gift you diamonds and jewels, though she knows you're a Wayne and you don't need it, she loves seeing your reaction every time she remembers your birthday or was present at your events

The problem came tonight... While you and her were doing the horizontal tango at her place

Fucking Nightwing and Redhood burst through the door

"what the fuck?" You scream, yes you knew this was a possibility, for your lover to be caught, but in the middle of it!??

"(Name)!??" Redhood exclaimed

Now this was even more confusing

"How the fuck do you know my name!?"

Robin entered the room "Holy shit... Like father like child, a villain?"

"who the hell are you people!?!? Why do you know me!?"

___________________

"....."

Well this is fucking awkward

"you're batman?"

"yes"

"and these kids are your sidekicks?"

"yes"

"with me as the only exception"

"yes"

Damian laughed "at least you inherited the habit of shanking villains"

"Damian stop" glared Jason

"where's my girlfriend?" You asked

"in jail" Bruce answered

"let her go, or let me be with her"

"no, you're not throwing your life away for a villain no less"

"if I slap you that counts as a crime right?"

"(Name)..."

Bruce sighed

"you will stay in your room until further notice, I'll withdraw you from school, we need to investigate what she did to you"

Anger filled your body, no way he just insulted the one person who had been there for you "what? She didn't do anything! in fact you know what- she did do something! She was there! You weren't, don't try to make her out as someone who was hurting me!"

"Patience dad maybe they were brainwashed" says tim

"what? No I wasn't? What the hell?"

It was like this every time, no one could hear you, they could but they wouldn't listen, suggestion after suggestion they decide for you

It was hell...

You'd rather them ignore than dictate your entire life

Well too bad, you're on the spot light now

[weaselle]

Let's dream. These are the things i think should be provided to the public for free

Food Centers:

it's not fancy and there's not a high variety, heck it's basically just rice, beans, some fruit juice, and the vegetable of the month, but you can go to any food center and get, for free, the baseline nutrition you need for staying alive and healthy. This food is available, for free, in any amount, in both raw and cooked forms, as Food Centers are both storage and cooking facilities. Some diet alternatives are made available for those with, for example, allergies or food related mental issues, tho this may require registering with whatever Food Center you plan on visiting ahead of time. And of course baby formula, baby food, and clean water.

Public Hospitals:

And yes this includes ALL medical treatments physical or mental. Any person, at any time, for any reason, can walk into a Public Hospital and receive the best medical care available. No paperwork (i mean they do keep your medical records on file etc but there is no paperwork for the patient to fill out). No hoops, no proving anything, no barriers to entry, nothing -- you enter a hospital, you receive medical care, period. Medical transport and mobile medical staff available as needed. Unlike with food, there is no "free tier" because anything less than the best medical treatment available is a crime against humanity. Possibly publicly available bathing facilities attached.

Public Housing:

Government built apartment complexes, first come first served, if it's empty you can move in. All you have to do is register, so that you don't go on a trip and have people move in because the place seemed empty. Probably some regulations like you can't register for more than one permanent residence, maximum of bedrooms equal to the number of people registered plus one, but you can have a temporary second apartment on a weekly basis, subject to availability - so like, you can go on a trip for a week, and then extend the trip by a week, and then maybe you want to extend a third week and you get told sorry there are now people waiting for a permanent residence in this area, temp residence at this location is no longer available until new housing units are completed. Something like that.

Information.

This is basically free school (through college) but i call it Information because I believe internet access and libraries, and press/public broadcasting also belong on this list

Clothing:

It isn't high fashion, it might be little more than socks, shoes, blankets, and government issued jumpsuits in hot and cold weather variants, but nobody is going to be left without clothing if they need it. Probably a small distribution center attached to each Food Center. People often forget about this one, but it's important.

Public Transportation:

what it says on the tin. Comprehensive, networked, including something like a (free) taxi program attached to train depots servicing rural areas that lack infrastructure or population density for even busses (so like, there might not be a train station in Lewistown Montana, but you can still get transported to Billings and catch a train)

BUT HOW WILL WE PROVIDE / PAY FOR THESE THINGS?

glad you asked

first of all there will still be taxes, because there will still be jobs, because almost nobody is going to want to wear the government issued jumpsuits and eat nothing but rice and beans. These things will keep you alive and healthy, but almost everyone is going to want their favorite foods and to be dressed fashionably, etc etc etc. You'll have hobbies you want to pay for, you'll have special dates you want to go on, people will want to live in their dream home... humanity is going to WANT THINGS, and so there will still be work and pay and money and taxes. There will even still be rich people and poor people if economic ladders are your kink, it's just now nobody will ever die of being poor. And if this is what we're getting, i do not care if the taxes are at like 65%, as long as the wealthy and the corporations are paying it too, but let's try to get it done for 50% for easy math. And we don't have to do all that complicated shit about this person should only pay less than that because they are poor or whatever, because a person could have zero money and still be basically ok. Just. 50% across the board.

BUT ALSO. We have resources. Do you know who owns all the offshore oil? Do you know who owns all the national forests that get logged for wood? We do. It's pubic property that our government leases to private companies to sell us back our own stuff. So maybe we should handle our resources differently.

AND. Labor. I've written about this before, but, i say instead of the unending argument about military spending, we increase the military budget, but we use them as a public work force here at home. Only about 10% of the US military is combat personnel. The other 90ish percent have jobs like Forklift Operator, Computer Engineer, Doctor, Mechanic, etc. So let them have some more funding, and let's get them building our government housing and staffing our Food Centers etc.

And sure, it probably wouldn't work perfectly, it would need constant management and innovation to continue to function. But it's not like our current system is working very well, right? Current system sucks so much that in Chicago alone every year senior citizens die because they have to choose between freezing or paying for their medicine. So we don't really have anything to lose. I mean most of us don't anyway. Might take some pitchforks and torches to convince the corporate oligarchy, the political puppets and their billionaire puppeteers.

oh, and

[redjayson]

oh boy, now that chapter 17 is posted I can talk about some of the extras that I want to write in full at some point! since that’s rather far off in the future (and probably a lot of work when second-hand alibis still has its own Incredible Amount of Work left), have some quick and dirty snippets/ideas of what they might look like.

first one is a "su xiyan lives" spin-off:

exactly what it says on the tin. shen yuan makes a deal with the system (which would have to be somewhat less strict in this scenario) or he gets his hands on a macguffin or something and manages to make it to the luo river in time to help su xiyan through luo binghe’s birth and save her life afterwards

that, then, leaves them both desperately injured with a (somewhat unhappy) baby in the middle of winter when huan hua is undoubtably searching for them and their only allies probably think shen yuan and su xiyan betrayed them

shen yuan has the bright idea to lead them down the river to the washerwoman who was luo binghe’s adopted mother in proud immortal demon way. she’s kind enough to take them in, softened immensely by the baby and by how injured and grief-stricken shen yuan and su xiyan are

shen yuan and su xiyan slap up every (subtle) barrier and disguise and warding talisman that they can possibly think of to help hide them from any huan hua searchers, before collapsing from the expenditure of energy. shen yuan possibly uses his altered-but-no-longer-untested body-stasis talisman on su xiyan, who is predictably Not Amused by the recklessness of shen yuan having used this on himself, but it gives them more time to handle the poison while also allowing su xiyan’s qi to replenish itself and hold off the effects of the poison trying to kill her while they find an actual cure for it (assuming shen yuan's macguffin/system deal wasn't enough)

they both heal. they help around the house as much as possible, and gift the washerwoman with as much money as she’ll take from them, which is far less than she deserves for all the kindness she’s showing them. eventually, they’re healed enough to begin moving again, and they judge that it’s likely too dangerous to stay this close to huan hua any longer. 

before they go, though, there’s the matter of tianlang-jun. they debate for days—is it too dangerous to try and check on him? do they think zhuzhi-lang was sealed as well? what happens if they’re captured by huan hua? what will happen to binghe? (yes, luo binghe ended up with the same name as canon. shen yuan only suggested the “binghe” portion of the name, but su xiyan came up with and ran with the “luo” portion of it, because it’s far too conspicuous for a child to be running around with her surname, isn’t it? shen yuan, twin brother of shen qingqiu, keeps his mouth shut.)

in the end, they decide that they’ll take their chances now, while there’s still enough chaos and confusion from the end of the battle + setting up how the guard on tianlang-jun is going to look long-term for them to get close. better yet, if they can find zhuzhi-lang, then they won’t even have to get all the way to bailu mountain. 

whatever happens, it ends up being a bit of a mess. zhuzhi-lang is not happy, but shen yuan has spent years being one of his favorite people, and both he and su xiyan are still moving pretty gingerly when they manage to find him. in the end, zhuzhi-lang believes what they tell him about the betrayals committed against them, too, and agrees to carry the news to tianlang-jun (and plead their case, should he prove unwilling to listen).

after that…su xiyan and shen yuan beat feet out of huan hua territory, taking binghe (and possibly the washerwoman!) with them to live a life as rogue cultivators. cue years of sneaking back into bailu forest to visit zhuzhi-lang and tianlang-jun and try to figure out the best way to help tianlang-jun escape. shen yuan helps zhuzhi-lang get ahold of some sun and moon dew mushrooms, but warns that unless they experiment wildly and are also exceedingly lucky, the mushroom body will fail pretty quickly with a demon inhabitant instead of a human one. 

I imagine that this au would either end up as a su xiyan/tianlang-jun/shen yuan throuple, or zhuzhi-lang might finally shoot his shot with shen yuan and actually get somewhere with it. I lean toward su xiyan/tianlang-jun/shen yuan, just because there’s only so many times you can pretend to be married with a child, spending literal years working toward a common goal and in close proximity and with shared fondness, before you fall into an actual relationship. tianlang-jun is on board with this when it’s explained to him—shen yuan is great! (the wife-beam strikes again, it just took a little bit longer with tianlang-jun because he was so focussed on su xiyan)

also it’s deeply funny to imagine shen yuan reuniting with shen jiu (+ yue qingyuan) and cang qiong mountain sect and boldly gesturing toward binghe and declaring, “this is my son.” yeah, this carbon copy of su xiyan, with eyes that are notably not hers or shen yuan’s? suuure. the other peak lords aren’t going to argue, though, because shen qingqiu looks way too willing to fight them (read: yell at them) about it, and that’s almost never worth it. plus, like, what do they care? 

shen qingqiu, notably, doesn’t believe that luo binghe is shen yuan’s biological son, but apparently he is shen yuan’s adopted son (son by marriage?), so it’s really all the same thing. he’s doing some math about the tianlang-jun situation (as is yue qingyuan) and not liking the answers that he’s come up with, but if shen yuan wants to keep the child, then let him. better to allow a half-demon on his mountain than to lose his brother again. 

shang qinghua is losing his shit in the background. you did what with my protagonist’s parents?! my cabbages plot!!!

[firetrucks-fastcars]

Your Home's Really Only a Town You're Just a Guest In

2.5k words | Logan Sargeant/Oscar Piastri | The Miami GP is over in a matter of seconds for Logan. Losing it all at his home race makes him realize a few things about what home and family truly mean

He was spinning before he’d even registered the impact. He barely had the brain capacity to cross his arms over his chest as his car went careening off the track. The gravel trap rattled his teeth and he tasted blood as he bit down on his tongue. He braced himself for impact just before his car hit the barrier, sending a shockwave down his spine, making his toes tingle and his head snap forward, despite the brace holding him in. God, that fucking hurt.

He’d never get used to this feeling. One might think he had, considering the amount of times he’d been in this position over the last year. He pushed down the self-deprecating thoughts for now, only focusing on moving his hands enough to press the radio button and answer his engineer’s desperate pleas to know if he was alright. 

“Oh mate,” he groaned, unable to think of a more intelligent response.

“Not your fault. Not your fault.”

“Ugh. I bit my fucking tongue.”

He knew SkySports would be angry at him for having to spend money on the bleep effect but he didn’t have it in him to care at the moment.

“You okay? Are you okay?”

He huffed into his helmet, trying to catch his breath, “I- yes. I think so. Did I do something wrong?”

He couldn’t think of anything he could have done, he couldn’t even see Kevin in his mirrors. The first look he’d gotten at the car had been blurry at best as he spun his way off the track and the Haas kept on racing. 

“No I don’t think you did. I’ll look at the review. Can you get out of the car on your own?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it.”

He began undoing his seat belts as the marshals moved toward his car. One gave him a helping hand and he stepped over the halo, hopping from the cockpit, the crunch of gravel under his boots. This was it. His home race was completely undone in less than 30 seconds. And he’d been doing alright too. He’d been on pace with Alex, he’d placed higher in the sprint. For the first time since Australia he’d felt a little glimmer of confidence. However, this sport and everyone around him seemed determined to put out any fire he had as quickly and as harshly as possible. 

The marshal led him to the evacuation car and he slid into the backseat, placing his helmet next to him. He wished the ride to the Williams garage was longer than a few minutes. He wished he had more time to come up with something better to say to his team other than a weak apology for fucking up another car. His only saving grace was that his parents weren’t in the paddock. Instead they were probably shaking their heads from their couch, turning off the tv and moving on to do something else since their son had failed so spectacularly, yet again. 

As he stepped out of the car into the oppressive Miami heat, he found himself wishing for England. So rarely did he miss the gray skies, but today they would match his mood much better than the inescapable Florida sunshine. He wished for the milder temperatures of Monaco, where the sun didn’t feel like quite as much of a mockery. Where he could hide in Alex and Lily’s apartment and neither of them would push him to speak until he was ready. Where he could escape to Lando’s and play games with him and Oscar and Max Fewtrell until his throat was sore from yelling and he felt slightly human again. Where Max would grow tired of Lando complaining about him moping and invite him over for dinner. Where he could sit in his designated seat on the balcony (declared as such by a drawing featuring entirely too much glitter, made of course by Penelope) and drown his sorrows in cheap European beer. Where people actually cared about him, or at least pretended to. 

But no. He was trapped here, as if held down by the humidity that blanketed the entire state he had once called home. Now, he felt more like a guest. He knew that after this race was all said and done, he’d crawl back home to his parents’ house that bore no signs of their second son, save for a few pictures on the walls, relics of his karting and junior formula days. He was a guest in the place where he was raised.

A firm hand gripped his bicep as he was led into the garage, “Are you alright?”

Elias had practically materialized next to him and was leading him past all of the engineers and mechanics, their well wishes and promises of “There was nothing you could have done” nothing more than tv static as they made their way hastily toward his driver’s room. Elias unlocked the door and pushed Logan inside but didn’t follow.

“Take your time. Get cleaned up and settle down. Don’t come back out until you feel human again.”

“What if I never feel human again?” The vulnerability spilled from his lips in the worst case of word vomit he’d ever experienced. He didn’t have a chance in hell of stopping the words once they started flowing. 

“You will. I know it doesn’t feel like it and you don’t want to listen to my pep talk right now, so I’ll save that for Alex later. But you will feel human again Logan. You will come out on the other side, stronger and better because of everything you’ve been through.”

“Can you ask James if there’s still room on the flight back for me tomorrow?” he asked instead of acknowledging what his trainer had just said.

“I thought you were staying for a few days. You had plans to fish with Kyle and go to the hockey game.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, I do really want to take you out on the boat. I just don’t know how much longer I can be here before I suffocate.”

“I understand. Don’t worry about me, I’ll get everything sorted with James. Just promise me that you’ll talk to your brother before we go. He’s worried about you.”

“Dalton is always worried about me.”

“He loves you. Don’t take it for granted.”

With that Elias slipped back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Logan sighed and laid back on the massage table, staring at the ceiling. He could hear the faint roar of engines in the distance. He wondered if Lando was still leading? Maybe one of them would finally have some good luck. He forced himself into a sitting position and leaned over to retrieve his phone from the front pocket of his backpack. He pulled up his brother’s contact and sent a message.

To Dalton: with mom and dad?

From Dalton: Yeah but I can leave. Need me?

To Dalton: yeah

From Dalton: Okay. Give me five

Logan counted in intervals of sixty until his phone began to buzz in his palm. Dalton always kept his promises.

“Hey little bro.”

“Are Mom and Dad around?”

“Nope. I went down to the dock. I figured you wanted this to be a private conversation.”

“Are they still watching the race?”

“Yeah. We’re all rooting for Lando’s first win. They aren’t mad at you Loges, there was nothing you could have done.”

“Yeah that time. What about all the others? They’re disappointed and you know it.”

“I know what they can be like Loges. Trust me, I know better than anyone. They want you to succeed but they don’t understand what the pressure does to you.”

“‘Pressure makes diamonds son’.”

Logan’s poor imitation of their father’s deep southern accent made Dalton chuckle. 

“Pressure makes dust. You can’t let them get to you bud. This is how they are about everything, it's how they always will be. You just have to prove them wrong.”

“They won’t give me a chance.”

“Mom and Dad? Or the team?”

“Both. Every time something starts to go well for me, Williams tears the rug out from under my feet. Mom and Dad will always side with them, especially Dad. Nothing is ever good enough, I don’t even know why I bother anymore. I love a sport that hates me and I’m a guest in my own fucking family. I don’t belong anywhere Dalton. I don’t belong in Europe, I don’t belong here, I should just fucking disappear and then everyone would be happier.”

“I wouldn’t. Kyle wouldn’t. Neither would Alex or Oscar or even fucking Lando. Loges, you’re so focused on everything that’s working against you, that you can’t acknowledge that there are people in your corner. Williams fans fucking love you, but all you care about is the keyboard warriors who think you should make your car levitate to avoid being hit. Fuck them. And fuck anyone who ever says you can’t do something. Fuck Mom and Dad. But don’t toss aside the people that want to help you. When was the last time you talked to Oscar about how you feel? Or are you just telling him that you’re fine and that none of this shit affects you? Because I know the truth, Loges. When are you gonna stop lying to yourself and playing tough guy and accept some help? Because until you start leaning on the people around you, you’re gonna keep crumbling. And I won’t be the one that’s left to pick up the pieces. Not again. I love you way too much to watch you destroy yourself because you’re stubborn.”

“I love you too.”

“Now what are you going to do?”

“Stop feeling sorry for myself.”

“And?”

“Go out tonight to celebrate Lando’s win. Then I’m gonna go back to England tomorrow with the team and work over data with Alex so we can find a way to fix this tractor of a fucking car.”

“Good. I’m proud of you little brother. Call me anytime, day or night. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you soon. But not until you’re ready.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

As he cleaned himself up and changed from his sweaty race suit to his usual team kit, he turned on the monitors to watch Lando win the race. He left the team (with permission from Gaetan) to run down to the pit lane and congratulate his friend. He found Oscar and Alex, leaning against the wall together, waiting for their turn in the media pen and joined them so he could fulfill his own duties to the press.

“Hey Osc,” he linked their pinkies together briefly in greeting, before pulling away. “Shame about your race.”

“Yeah, some people were just itching for penalties today,” Oscar rolled his eyes. “How are you doing? You seem surprisingly carefree.”

Alex regarded him with a raised brow, “You are suspiciously calm.”

“I talked to Dalton. I’m still annoyed about the crash but Kevin got what he deserved and there’s nothing else I can do. Other than comb through the data and try to figure out a way to make this God forsaken tractor go any faster.”

“I’m with you,” Alex agreed. “I already told Gaetan and James to book a conference room and stock the fridge with Monster because we’re gonna be there a while.”

Logan chuckled and bumped their shoulders together, “I’ll be there Monday.”

Alex raised his brow again, “I thought you were staying for a few more days?”

“I was going to. But, I need a change of scenery. And living in London has ruined me. I can’t handle the heat.”

Oscar gave him a look that said they’d talk about it later, but was called away by his press officer, “You’re coming out with us tonight. We’re celebrating Lando’s win!”

“I expected nothing less.”

*****

It was way too late (or early, depending on how you looked at it) when they finally made it back to the hotel Mclaren was staying in. He and Oscar had left the party a few minutes early, leaving Lando in Max’s capable hands. Elias had already retrieved his luggage from his parent’s place and had it brought to Oscar’s room. Once they were both showered and half asleep, Oscar finally asked what he’d been dying to all night.

“So what made you decide you want to leave early?”

“I talked to Dalton. And he made me realize that how I’ve been acting lately isn’t healthy. I’m tearing myself down to meet these unrealistic expectations my parents have set for me and I’m killing myself to try and prove myself to people who don’t actually care. I’ve been realizing lately that I feel like a guest here. Florida isn’t really home. I don’t really feel at home anywhere to be honest. Only with you, or Alex. Sometimes Lando and Max.”

“You know what my mom told me once? It was right after I left Australia for good and I was so homesick it hurt. And boarding school sucked and I was just about ready to give it all up and come home. But my mom told me that home isn’t really a place, it’s people. And family isn’t just the people who raised you. So I’d always be welcome at home with them, but I was also responsible for making my own home and my own family and that once I did that, I wouldn’t be so lonely. A few months after that, we became teammates. And I figured out pretty quickly what my mom meant. I know you’re proud of being from America, to be the first American in F1 in a long time. But that isn’t your whole identity, Loges. And Florida doesn’t have to be your home because you were born here. Your home can be in England with me, or Monaco with Max, Lando and Alex. You can consider both places home if you want because all of us are your family. We care about you so much baby, especially me. It has hurt so bad to see you struggle for so long. I just want you to realize you’re with so much outside of racing and outside of your hometown. You will never be a guest with me Logan, I hope you know that.”

“I do. And I’m starting to figure out this family thing. I just think it’s going to take some time. I have to really figure out where I belong in the world.”

“I know. And I’ll always be with you, there is nowhere you can go that I won’t follow.”

“I’m stuck with you forever huh?”

“You bet your ass you are. You’re stuck with Lando too because he’ll tag along just to be annoying. And Max because he has to supervise when I’m not around. And Alex, because he’s just along for the ride.”

Logan laughed and hugged Oscar close, “I think I’m okay with that.”

He stared at the ceiling as Oscar snored lightly next to him, waiting for sleep to come. So what if he felt like a guest in his home? He’d just make another.

[dixieconley]

The Red Death

Thorn: I feel terrible. I think I coughed a lung up. Can I fake my death and take a day off? Thire: Not feeling so hot either, vod. Can I take the war off? Fox: ::flatly:: If I don't get time off, you don't either. I don't remember the last time I felt good. Thorn: So you're not sick like the rest of us? Fox: …

::flashback 1:: Triage: One of Hound's people brought back a fast-acting virus with them after visiting the lower levels. Most of the Guard is already infected and the rest are likely to get it soon. Fox: … Fox: We can get sick? Triage: Apparently. I don't know what this is. If I could, I'd find out what it is and see if there's a cure. But I don't have the training or the tools. Fox: … Triage: Best case scenario, we quarantine the Guard and wait to see how many survive. Fox: And the worst case scenario? Triage: … Triage: You don't want to know.

::flashback 2:: Fox: Your excellency, may I speak with you? Palpatine: Of course, commander. It would be my pleasure. Fox: I-- Palpatine: And commander, take your helmet off, would you? I like to see the faces of the people I'm talking with. Fox: … Fox: ::takes helmet off:: Sir, it would be in the best interests of everyone if other parties took over the Guard's duties for the next few days. Many of my men are ill and my chief medical officer tells me that it's likely all of us will be by the end of the week-- Palpatine: Oh? And why would you think you deserve something like that? Fox: I-- ::vomits on Palpatine's imported handwoven carpet:: Palpatine: Disgusting. Truly disgusting. No, commander, you'll do your duty or you die. You're all replaceable anyway. Perhaps your successor will be more competent than you. And less pathetic. Succumbing to a common virus, really. Hardly worth the money paid for you.

Fox: It doesn't matter. We do our duty or we die. Thire: Or we do our duty and we die. Thorn: That's the spirit! Always look on the bright side, vod!

And Fox would say something, but Thire's not wrong. So…

Fox: Business as usual, vod'e. Dead and dying to the medbay, pair up so that if one person passes out, the other can cover for them and try not to vomit on any senators. Thorn: If I can't puke on a senator, can I puke on the chancellor instead? Fox: … Thorn: Fox, you magnificent hypocritical bastard. You didn't. Fox: I only got the carpet. Thorn: I want to be you when I grow up.

And so the Corries get on with their jobs because no one cares if they're sick or not while Fox resigns himself to signing off on several decommissioning orders by the end of the day because the majority of senators have an extremely low tolerance for clones behaving like anything other than droids. (That a significant number seem to think of them as sex droids? Fox would like to see how they fare against the real thing.)

What no one realizes is that the Vode were genetically engineered to be better than their progenitor. To be more resistant to disease, to heal faster and, whenever possible, to not get sick at all. For them to all get sick at once? Requires something highly contagious and more along the lines of a deadly bioterrorism agent, not a mere common cold.

And so:

Thorn: Fox! Fox! Fox: ::irritable and feverish:: What?? Thorn: The chancellor is dead! And so is most of the senate! This is just the Best! Day! Ever!! Fox: … Fox: What happened?? Thorn: I don't know? They just started keeling over. There's bodies everywhere. It's great. I guess it started with the worst of the shiny raping demagolka and spread from there? Triage: This is the worst case scenario I was afraid of. Natborns aren't built to handle the kinds of things that the Vode are. Interesting that it crosses the species barrier though. Thorn: And I got to puke on Free Ta when he tried to stick his kad down my throat! This really is the best day ever! Fox: … Fox: I'm giving everyone the rest of the day off. We'll revisit in the morning. Triage: Why? It's too late to quarantine the Guard. The disease has already spread to the Senate and likely outside of it as well. And recovery will take more than a day in any case. Fox: … Triage: You are quarantining the Guard, right? That is what you're trying to do, isn't it?? Fox: … Fox: Once everyone's gotten some sleep, we'll reassess. Thorn: And throw a party! Because it's not every day you kill the biggest bastards in the galaxy by heaving your guts out.

[batfleckgifs]

Host: Um I want to uh as we kind of wrap up here I do want to come back to AI. Jerry you mentioned it but you know Ben how did you know uh-earlier you guys weren't here we did a demonstration my colleague, Andrew Sorkin and I recreated ourselves and our voices how do you see it I mean - is it a benefit or is it a real threat? Is it possible that uh - Netflix could say you know we're going to do our own, excuse me James Bond thing out there with a bunch of actors that are completely recreated for this Market or that market I-?

Ben Affleck: A) that's not possible now. B) will it be possible the future? Highly unlikely. C) Uh-Uh Movies will be one of the last things if everything gets replaced to be replaced by ai. AI can write you excellent imit-imitative verse that sounds Elizabethan, it cannot write you Shakespeare. The function of having two actors or three or four actors in a room and the taste to discern and construct that is something that currently entirely eludes ai's capability and I think will for a meaningful period of time. What AI is going to do, is going to disintermediate the more laborious less creative uh and you know Co-more costly aspects of film making that will allow cost to be brought down, that will be lower the barrier to entry that will allow more voices to be heard, that will make it easier to for the people want to make Goodwill huntings to go out and make it. Look AI is a Craftsman at best Craftsman can learn to you know make stickly furniture by sitting down next to somebody and seeing what their technique is and imitating. That's how large video models large language model models basically work a library of vectors of meaning and Transformers that interpret context right but they're just cross-pollinating things that exist. Nothing new is created or-

Host: Not yet.

Ben Affleck: Not yet. Yeah, not yet. And-and really the - in order to do that - look Craftsman is knowing how to work (and) Art Is knowing when to stop. And I think knowing when to stop is going to be a very difficult thing for AI to learn because it's taste and also lack of consistency.lack of controls. lack of quality. AI for for this world of generative video is going to do key things more me-I wouldn't like to being in the visual effects business,they're in trouble, because what cost a lot of money is now going to cost a lot less. And it's going to hammer that space than it already is, um, and maybe it shouldn't take a thousand people to render something but it's not going to replace human beings making films. It may make your background more convincing, it can change the color of your shirt, it can fix mistakes that you've made, it can make it - you know you might be able to get two seasons of House of the Dragon in a year instead of one and if that happens according to macroeconomics in you know, uh ,cultures where there are basically Oligopolies competing what should happen is with the same demand and the same spend is they they should just make more shows which should you know you should have the same spend and now you can just watch more episodes. And eventually AI will allow you to,uh, ask for your own episode of succession where you can say I'll pay $30 and can you make me a 45 minute episode where like Kendall gets the company and runs off and has an affair with Stewie and it'll do it. And it'll be a little janky and a little bit weird but it'll know their Stats it'll know those actors and it will you know Mix-remix it in effect and it will do that. That's the value, in my view, long term of AI for consumers which is eventually - My Hope for AI is that it's an additional Revenue stream that can replace DVD which took 15 to 20% out of the economy of film making which is and-and there should be negotiated rights and-

Host: And that's the key part of it.

Ben Affleck: And the right to say if you want to - because what do people want to make 5 minute 30C Tik Tok videos where they look like The Avengers well great, you can , you know just like you used to be able to buy your Iron Man costume at the store you're going to buy your Iron Man pack and you and your buddies are going to look like Iron Man and Hawkeye like you know on Twitch that's that's what's going to really happen.

[shallowseeker]

@ahundredbillionheavens - This might be a reductive answer to your question, but I think souls are empathy.

Empathy is what powers a story (and the Hollywood grind cycle), so it works pretty eloquently.

For someone to “become soulless” is simply for something to happen that turns that empathy off.

✅Could be a head wound (that one young man in Dream a Little Dream of Me, I think it was [?] or akin to how Amara injured Donatello)

✅ It could be a trauma that causes a character to withdraw / completely sunder / shut off their emotions (a la soulless Sam). Sam is vulnerable to this…he often shuts off his emotions/distances his own emotions by intellectualizing others.

✅ It could be torture and pain (demons).

✅ Or the coldness of time and distance (angels).

In this way, it’s very possible for demons, angels…anyone to have “a soul.” After all, “grace” is like a soul in that it can be wielded in violence or healing. Angels are just sold the line that “grace doesn’t count as a soul. It’s stoic, powerful, not nurturing or healing.”

And demons are sold the line, “it’s too late for you / you don’t matter anymore.”

(But we see family and friends heal each other again and again, even demons and angels, through great loyalty and sometimes terrible sacrifices.)

///

Humanity is often shorthand for empathy.

✅ When you “sell your soul” to an entity, it can power itself vicariously through the “soul,”eating/draining all the hopes and dreams, spending it like dirty vice money (Hell) or powering a whole grand enterprise (Heaven).

I think this works in a very real meta sense, and it’s also how we see Chuck use Sam in 15x09 The Trap. It is not until Sam is drained of hope that Chuck is rejuvenated.

Why then, are humans more valuable than demons/angels? I think a clue is with Amara’s hunger in season 11. She laments that humans are mostly (cosmic) empty space. (Which is true of us and the universe.) But! She eats angels and demons too!

I think… The metaphor is that, in the world of story, human “empathy/experience” is compressed inside the narrative character. (Indeed: characters are avatars for multiple writers and audiences, “compressed” into a single, often morphing character/idea.)

Ergo, the human souls of SPN are so compressed that they’re simply more filling/less empty space. They’re like bite-sized, high-calorie gold nuggets you can eat. (Demons are maybe low-calorie, thorny, hard nuts to crack. Angels are too vast to tap, disconnected from their emotions like a perpetual state of alexithymia. Or like an ore field with no tools to get at the usable stuff.)

When angels get “compressed” into human vessels, their grace probably feels more. When they are compressed, they’re perhaps literally more in touch with their own emotions. A nice nod to how our own bodies help us identify/“feel” our emotions. (Angels are deadened by too much inhibition, a loss of free will and denial of the emotions through shifting those emotions onto a grander cause.)

And demons are “cured” by transfusion, which essentially cuts through the prickly shell of not-caring. (Demons are numb via the disinhibitory loss of free will and the shame of non consensual choosing disguised as purely the fault of the exploited. This generates righteous anger that can be wielded, especially if it becomes blind.)

///

Anyhoo! Empathy powers stories! Souls are empathy.

Grace, souls, corrupted souls are the same star stuff, but perhaps souls are neatly packaged/compressed so that we’re (generally) “in touch with” our energy and emotions.

Soullessness is any barrier to empathy.

Or being “out of touch,” too maybe…

I might be delirious but i am bored in my hospital room.

///

In a narrative, empathy may be much of what matters in a very real sense. Nihilism and apathy are supreme enemies of the story. They cause it to spiral into a neurotic mess of, “why bother?”

(They all died and nothing changed / it was all a dream / all writers lie and this story is a big lie / shaggy dog story etc. is boring and cowardly. “Playing it safe” and “Keeping things up to interpretation” can dissolve meaning and backbone. When ppl say “it didn’t stick the landing,” this is what they mean.)

///

Aside/// Plenty of characters have emotions, like how Lucifer has been shown to have turbulent ones. But he lacks empathy for his peers.

His bitterness causes his emotions to be terminally self-focused, and purposefully blase. Even the deeper emotions he feels for Jack are akin to a dingy in a sea… and Lucifer would drown that dingy to stay afloat.

“Soon I’ll be me again,” he says after feeding off Anael, seeming genuinely rattled by the act of feeling his own emotions and seeing his own true motivations (that is, contrary to his rebellious streak, he valued fitting in…pleasing his dad). I think that’s a nice Sam parallel.

Lucifer was chronically used and victim-blamed by Chuck, (as late as s11), and he’s unable to connect to others in a real empathic sense because it’s unsafe. He only feels alive in the heat of battle/fighting a bigger enemy than himself (Amara, AU Michael). It’s safer for him because the chaos of the battlefield offers security and built-in allies…so long as that war keeps waging.

[tmarshconnors]

Biden and Trump First TV Debate

As I watch Biden and Trump face off in their first televised debate, I can't help but reflect on a country that has a population of 333.3 million people (as of 2022). With so many citizens, one would think there would be a wealth of candidates eager to run for the highest office in the land. Yet, here we are again, faced with a choice between Joe Biden and Donald Trump.

I am no fan of Joe Biden by any means, and I am not saying that Donald Trump is the "savior" of America either. The reality is far more complex. Surely, there must be more people who can run for office, bringing fresh perspectives and new energy to our political landscape. Instead, we seem trapped in a cycle of familiar faces and entrenched political battles.

The Problem with the Status Quo

No matter who wins the upcoming election, one thing is certain: the American people will lose out. This isn't just a uniquely American problem, either. Over in the United Kingdom, we're facing a similar scenario. Our general election on the 4th of July this year feels like a rerun of old political dramas, with little hope for real change.

In both countries, the political landscape seems devoid of truly inspiring leaders. We see the same names, the same faces, and hear the same tired rhetoric. It's as if our political systems are designed to recycle the past rather than innovate for the future.

Where Are the Fresh Faces?

One of the biggest questions is why we aren't seeing more new faces in politics. With so many intelligent, capable, and passionate individuals in both the U.S. and the U.K., why do so few step up to run for office? The reasons are multifaceted:

The Financial Barrier: Running for office is incredibly expensive. Campaigns require vast amounts of money, which often means that only those with substantial financial backing or connections can realistically consider running.

Political Entrenchment: Established politicians have a stronghold on their positions, making it difficult for newcomers to break through. The political machinery often favors incumbents, who have name recognition and a network of support.

Public Disillusionment: Many potential candidates are dissuaded by the current state of politics. The negativity, polarization, and media scrutiny can be overwhelming. This discourages fresh talent from entering the fray, preferring to make a difference in less public, and perhaps less contentious, ways.

The Impact on Democracy

The lack of diversity in our political candidates has a direct impact on democracy. When voters are presented with limited choices, it undermines the very principles of democratic governance. Democracy thrives on variety and choice, enabling the electorate to select leaders who truly represent their values and aspirations.

In the absence of this variety, elections become exercises in choosing the lesser of two evils rather than selecting the best possible leader. This, in turn, leads to widespread disillusionment and apathy among the electorate. When people feel that their vote won't bring about meaningful change, they are less likely to participate in the democratic process.

Looking Forward

As we watch Biden and Trump debate, we should be asking ourselves what we can do to encourage more people to run for office. How can we lower the financial barriers, dismantle the entrenched political systems, and inspire a new generation of leaders?

We need to foster a political culture that values innovation, inclusivity, and genuine public service. This means supporting candidates from diverse backgrounds and with new ideas. It also means holding our current leaders accountable and demanding more from them.

In the end, the future of our democracy depends on our ability to broaden the pool of candidates and ensure that our political systems are open to fresh voices and new perspectives. Only then can we hope to elect leaders who truly represent the will of the people and can bring about the change that so many of us desire.

In both the United States and the United Kingdom, the time for political renewal is now. Let's hope that the next debate, and the next election, will feature a more diverse and inspiring lineup of candidates, giving us all a reason to believe in the future of our democracy.

[tobiasdrake]

On a quest for new coping mechanisms because somehow things now manage to seem even more hopeless than before.

Ten years. Ten years, I've been giving Moraine no end of grief. I made fun of him. I called him a prick and a jackass and all sorts of other things. I went behind his back all the time. I complained about him to his manager. But now we're here and--

Nope, can't do it, I still think he's a domineering asshole. It's just that what Erlina and Brugaves just did transcends "asshole" by such a wide margin that Moraine looks pleasant by comparison.

Garl, your soup could cure the blind. There's no one whose hands I'd rather Moraine be in than yours.

While I finally, finally get to bed.

"Not the Twins", huh? I'm pretty sure Zale and I aren't twins; I think it's been confirmed that we were delivered on consecutive solstices, like we're supposed to be. Momo, Yoyo, and Roro are the Triplets, so they're out.

Teaks said that when twins are born on the same Solstice, their innate magic is either incredibly heightened or corrupted into something that must be contained for the greater good.

Brugaves and Erlina certainly seemed powerful. Powerful enough that Erlina could conjure a flame barrier to hold us all back while they summoned the Blood Moon, which seems like it's probably hard. Could they be the Twins?

Otherwise, the only people I can think of are Solena and Luan. Which is also a distinct possibility.

Oh, that's right, in all the hopelessness and despair, I forgot I promised to be insufferably smug.

Ahem. "I bet you feel bad for not wanting him to come with us." There you go. That's the best I can do under these circumstances. I'm sure you understand.

We. Might. Already have one? I dunno, depends on what's making it unreachable, I guess.

But. Like. We still owe Sera-- Captain Cliche, who has no relation to the talented and extremely trustworthy assassin-thief warming the doorframe, a legendary ghost ship with ambiguous magical properties.

Plus I'm fated to "make paths over water" and this could be what that's referring to.

I dunno. We should confer with our pirate friends.

I'm sure you will, Serai. I'm sure you will.

We're not going straight for the Dweller of Strife, are we? I doubt the eclipse will still be in the sky by the time we reach Brisk. Unless the Dweller's blood moon sky portal, like, creates a state of perpetual eclipse or something? I dunno.

Either way, it's been very well established that this Dweller will fuck us dead if we go at it with just the two of us and our enthusiastic chef.

Fuck me, I guess we're going straight at the Dweller.

We're not late. Serai moves at the speed of portal. She's early. Chronically.

It's a simple, easy, four-step plan.

1 - Find the Dweller. 2 - Violence. 3 - ??? 4 - The world is saved.

We did all our coping last night in the vice capital of the world. Today, we die with weapons in our hands. Let's go.

I admit, I do feel a little less bad about stealing everything that isn't nailed down from this town a few days ago.

In any case, I will spend some money buying groceries here. Good luck with your reconstruction. After we die horribly, that is.

Looks like we've found its impact crater. If this thing is anything like the Dweller of Woe, I don't even know how we're going to manifest it so that we can fight it. Moraine had to do this whole eclipse ritual with a magic rune.

But it's not here right now, at least. I guess that's what matters?

Oh, cool, eyewitness account. Now we can be sure that it's not here right now. Thanks, that really helps.

Garl, do not let your mouth write checks that I don't know if we can cash. I already do enough of that for....

Oh, what the hell. These people are suffering from a calamitous disaster, a trade shortage only recently un-blockaded, and my crime spree. Let them have a little hope.

Garl really does have the spirit of a hero in him. He can't be a Solstice Warrior, but he understands the value of PR like nobody else.

Uh. This. Is going to sound like absolute crazy talk and you're probably going to hate me for even suggesting it.

But. Well. There's. This town... This town on a forbidden island that no one ever returns from....

Trying to rebuild Brisk is an option too. I mean, this particular Dweller doesn't seem localized so it's not like it's any safer or more dangerous to stay or leave.

Probably sounds less crazy than my idea, even if the chief problem with my idea is no longer a problem, I swear!

How are we going to get them there, though? I don't think these people will fit on our shitty raft.

...It's time to chase down the Vespertine, isn't it?

That's what the Archivist meant about going into the eye of a storm and facing a legendary curse. He wasn't talking about the Dweller. That makes way more sense. Dude could stand to be a lot less cryptic.

Yep, it's time to chase down the Vespertine. Without our Coin of Undeath Accord, which probably doesn't matter anyway.

Plan's still to get onboard the ship and do something. We'll just have to wing it.

We're good at winging things! Winging it is how we got Garl's eye gouged out. And how we got Garl nearly eaten by the Dweller of Woe. And how we lost the Coin of Undeath Accord.

...

Y'know, maybe it's time to stop winging it. Maybe we should learn to take our time and gather proper intel.

But ain't nobody got time for that right now!

[periru3]

I just watched Total Forgiveness and I have a thought...

Ok, so I know this show is messy as hell and is 4 years old so I'm sure all the opinions there are to have have already been said. There's a lot to be said about this show, but the one specific thing I personally want to say about this show is this is why planning ahead, anticipating situations that may arise, and coming up with specific rules for all of them is super important for any sort of game, especially if lots of money is on the line!

Like, do I think Ally should have been able to tell when they were going too far and choose not to out of both friendship to Grant and just common decency? Yes, absolutely I do. Just because something is neither dangerous nor illegal doesn't mean it's a thing you should ask another human to do, even if it could be funny. I furthermore think that other people working on the show could have stepped in and just given a quick "hey, man, too far" and that may have solved lots of things.

But the absolute #1 thing in my opinion that would have made this show less of a nightmare was just doing some basic thinking about what sort of dares should even be allowed. Cause while Ally's dares were generally more mean-spirited and humiliating than the ones Grant thought up (not to mention the flea market one, which was in a class of it's own in terms of lasting ramifications for Grant), I think an equally big problem was that they came up with dares where the outcomes were not actually 100% in Grant's control - Lock-In and Flea Market were both challenges where Grant's ability to finish the dare was ultimately up to other people, and Bell and Performance Art both required him to be able to make his body do something at will with an audience present, something that frankly isn't necessarily possibly through sheer force of will.

Grant, on the other hand, never gave Ally a single task where the completion of it relied on other people. He did give them several dares where the main difficulty was overcoming a mental barrier (Coffin, Snake, Tattoo), but with those, winning basically meant not panicking while something scary happened, whereas in Performance Art and Bell, Grant had to both overcome the automatic mental response ('don't poop,' and 'nothing about this is sexy' respectively) and also try to force his body to do something that is typically a more-or-less automatic function.

And yeah, Grant gives Ally a lot of leeway because they were just playing the game more ruthlessly than he was, and it was all fair within the structure of the game, but I'd argue that they should have had a rule from the get go saying all dares had to be something you were sure the other person could complete. There's definitely some gray area there - for instance, I think for instance I'd argue Performance Art is fair game under that rule but Bell isn't, but I know that's a super weird and subjective distinction (and I don't have a penis so I'm not an expert). I think based on the nature of the game, you have to sort of gloss over things like pain tolerance and mental distress as legitimate reasons to argue something is not necessarily completable or the game sort of falls apart. In those cases, I think it sort of needs to be up to the players' and the producers' common sense and decency to stop them from going too far. But the fact that Grant could try his best and that doesn't necessarily mean he's able to get a spontaneous erection, keep 6 people in a tiny apartment against their will for two days, or make $1000 at a flea market to me clearly means those challenges just shouldn't have been allowed.

Anyway, I think this show does a plenty good enough job highlighting the issue of student debt by showing the amount of humiliation, physical pain, and emotional distress people are willing to endure to alleviate just some of that debt - adding onto that that sometimes the things they're asked to aren't even necessarily possible, while accurate to the real world, sort of ruins the game.

[weaselle]

@biggyb I wanted to answer you and then it became so much that i felt it needed to be it's own post.

So, if it was enacted on a large or ubiquitous scale, that is absolutely a concern, that if everybody had more money prices would just increase, rendering the UBI useless.

what would we do about that?

One the one hand that is basically already what happens anyway, which is why cost of living increases etc are a thing. And on the other hand there are a few mechanisms that can curb that, things like rent control laws.

But ultimately, personally, i believe the real answer is to remove the money aspect and provide the basic necessities directly.

When we say UBI we’re basically talking about the government giving us money (which has to come from somewhere, and that probably means some kind of progressive wealth tax, which is really just wealth redistribution at that point but whatever)

Anyway I believe it would be more effective for the government to provide those things directly (but not exclusively). I believe the baseline for society is everybody has free access to:

HEALTHCARE

All forms of healthcare (this is an important one, the very best we can do should be available to anyone who needs it, with no conditions, no barriers to entry like complicated paperwork, if you need health care you should get it, period.

INFORMATION

This means a free press, and education, true, but i also mean internet access, which at this point in our society i think is necessary for equality

NUTRITION

So, not just food, but a complete diet. This can still be very basic, little more than rice and beans, with medical exemption options of course, but it can be enough that it is the bare minimum food types, maybe rice beans and a couple types of dark green veggie and a couple types of vitamin C fruit. Possibly eggs or peanuts or something. Nothing fancy, just good quality ingredients that contain enough nutrition to keep you not only alive but fully healthy. And i think this should be provided in both raw ingredient form and cooked form.

CLOTHING

This one gets overlooked a lot, but kids need shoes, and struggling people need blankets and jackets, and everybody needs access to clothes, actually. Again, can be very basic, maybe government issued overalls, socks, jackets, blankets, and some kind of cheap tennis shoes would be most of it, but everybody needs access to clothes.

And finally HOUSING

So for example, the government would build apartment complexes that were just freely available to the public, first come first serve, you sign for it and the apartment is yours until you give it up or take another apartment.

We already have our government building and running public schools and libraries, we just need to upgrade those a bit. We already have governments building and running hospitals, we just need to do a lot more of that a lot better and get these private insurance companies to fuck off.

And then we just need to provide the clothes, open the Food Distribution Centers and build the housing.

Because then it won’t be money, so you don’t have to worry about the prices of everything going up because everybody has more income, which you are correct, is a concern. So just provide those things directly.

This is much less like taking money from the super wealthy and putting it into the bank accounts of everyone else, and much more the way taxes are supposed to work taking money from those that can spare it and using it to build a society that is better for everyone - even improving things for those super wealthy people (who now at the very least get to walk around safer from the sick and the homeless and the desperate - i mean violent crime alone would probably do whatever the opposite of sky-rocket is. Ground-dive.)

And people will still get jobs and spend money! Like, just because you provide government overalls, doesn’t mean people will stop wanting fashion brands. But now nobody will die of exposure from not having clothes. Same with everything, for example, the government school system is extremely developed, but there are still private schools, right?

That would be true of all this. If you gave everyone access to basic nutrition, there would still be steak houses and sushi restaurants and stuff. But now you could actually have the public boycott foods they felt were sourced unethically, or you could, say, regulate the fishing industry into sustainability even if that meant fish became so expensive that the average person could only eat fish once a year or whatever. Businesses might die from it, but no people would. Not even the people who used to own those businesses.

For my money, no money is where it’s at. But UBI would be a nice stepping stone.

What UBI experiments show us is that when you give people money and they DON’T get a job, but just exist at the minimum level, they are usually only doing so to accomplish something like go back to school for a degree or take care of a disabled or elderly loved one.

And the same would be true if we just provided everyone with the basics (except healthcare, everybody must get the best we have when it comes to healthcare, anything else is a moral failing that doesn’t bear contemplating)

but yeah, there would be people who would only wear government issued overalls, only live in government barracks, and only eat government rice and beans… but UBI experiments show us that it would be a small percentage of the population, and they'd only be doing it either to accomplish something worthy, or because they were in some way impaired. 90% of everyone else would still be out there getting jobs so they could move into a nice house and eat fish, but now with the security to quit if those jobs didn’t treat them well!

imo, THAT’s how you fix the economic issues surrounding UBI, you take the “income” out of the equation and you just straight up provide the Universal Basics themselves.

"but how would we build all these apartments and run these food distribution centers?"

well, this dovetails into my other favorite solution for the united states.

See, we spend a FUCKTON on the military, and we're just never going to make that stop happening, apparently.

So I say, we INCREASE the military. I say double it even.

And then we use them here, keeping them sharp and employed and trained etc by doing public works.

The military is already full of engineers and cooks and doctors and electricians and forklift operators and everything else.

So get them building apartments and running food distribution and supplementing hospital staffs etc.

All that stuff involves, logistics, and teamwork, and knowing how to run projects and accomplish missions, it's all good training even for the combat personnel, which is only 15% of the people in the military btw.

The rest are those other jobs i mentioned. So hire and train even more of them, and then deploy them here, repairing bridges and building hospitals and managing clothing warehouses and stuff.

anyway. Food for thought.

[iviarellereads]

Exit Strategy, Chapter 4

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Murderbot Diaries, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which the plans get less and less desirable.

Returning to the station, Murderbot and Pin-Lee split up. Pin-Lee to get the others, and MB to book a fresh room to talk in. It scouts, and waits, and eventually the three humans enter. Ratthi is grinning, and MB interprets Gurathin's expression as "appalled."(1) Ratthi asks what it's been up to, but Pin-Lee says it can tell later, or not, but first they need to focus on getting Mensah out. MB is glad it's looking at the display wall and not the humans.(2)

Gurathin expresses skepticism about how MB can help them. Ratthi asks if they can just power in, but MB knows that's the stupidest possible idea. It sends them its assembled map in the private feed, and says the problem would be leaving neutral security zones and entering GrayCris's corporate jurisdiction.

Ratthi is dismayed, and asks, what about the company gunship? MB says GrayCris is probably raising money just to buy off the company, including asking the ransom from Preservation. Pin-Lee says that's what the Preservation diplomatic corps thought. Ratthi is hurt she didn't tell him, but Gurathin guessed it for himself too.(3)

The humans start drifting the conversation, so MB draws them back, saying GrayCris might not be able to afford the payoff. It thinks about how they'd be unable to sell off their alien remnants anymore, so they're probably getting desperate.

Pin-Lee asks if MB might be able to get her out without the ransom.

I had been running possible scenarios, partly to drown out the sound of humans making stupid suggestions. (Not that I don’t like that sound; it’s sort of comforting and familiar, in an annoying way.) “It would be tricky,” I said. By tricky I meant I was getting an average of an 85 percent chance of failure and death, and it was only that low because my last diagnostic said my risk assessment module was wonky. (I know, that explains a lot about me.) “We need to find a way to make them bring her outside the main station security barrier so that I can track her location via her company implant.”

Pin-Lee suggests offering a ransom exchange in one of the hotels. Ratthi wonders if they'll know about Preservation's finances, but Gurathin says he can assemble a very convincing list of Preservation's assets. MB decides this isn't in the top ten worst plans, and offers that they don't need to bring her all the way to the humans, just outside GrayCris's security barrier.

Gurathin asks MB directly if it can get Mensah away from them, even from a heavy guard. MB says the more guards the better, and thinks Gurathin's expression may be "some congenital condition he had no control over."(4) He asks if it's going to kill the guards, and MB decides no, he really is just an asshole. It thinks about lying, but answers, if it has to. Gurathin asks if it's qualified to make that decision, and MB says it's the security expert, they're the ones who get eaten by angry fauna when they walk in the wrong places.

MB says it's going to go wait in the lobby, until they make a decision. Pin-Lee says they already have, and the others agree. Well, then MB is going to the lobby anyway. It's a good strategic position to work from.

As the humans sort of the details of Operation Not Actually A Completely Terrible Plan, MB suggests they arrange to meet GrayCris here, since the old hotel was swarming with corporate agents. They agree, and since they're traveling light, they don't have anything to collect from the room anyway.

They make the call, and MB monitors them from the lobby. GrayCris argue for a whole two minutes until Pin-Lee convinces them to bring Mensah out, though they plan to send in a representative to check the funds authorization first. Gurathin goes down to the lobby to wait for them, looking more like a SecUnit than MB.

MB thinks about how, if this goes well, it will see Mensah again. Art had told it that the PreservationAux team were its crew, and it's waffled back and forth since then.

But sitting here in a hotel lobby, watching a biozone and running every not-a-SecUnit behavioral code I had, the fantasy fell apart. The hard reality was that I didn’t know what Mensah was to me. Even after Miki, I still didn’t want to be a pet robot.(5)

Gurathin contacts MB privately, and MB gets a little sarcastic back at him. Gurathin says he's not its enemy, just cautious. MB says it doesn't care about Gurathin's opinion, and immediately regrets it, wishing it had itself on a one-second delay so it could delete it.

 It made it sound like I did care. Which I didn’t.(6)

A couple of minutes later, Gurathin asks where it went. MB doesn't want to talk about it, but doesn't want to be so petty as to ignore him. It sends him a lightly edited video it took, on the trip to HaveRatton, with the intention of critiquing its performance. It throws the clips together, and sends them to Gurathin, titled "Murderbot Impersonates an Augmented Human Security Consultant".(7) He's still watching it when the GrayCris rep shows up.

The rep is likely carrying a weapon, with something to block it being detected. MB is more concerned that he's likely carrying a secure comm. He meets Gurathin, who leads him back to Pin-Lee and Ratthi. MB keeps an eye out for hostiles in the lobby, possibly spotting a few. But instead of staying in the lobby, MB follows a hunch, and takes a transport pod, telling the hotel's systems not to take action on maintenance requests, to stop the pod mid-transit without crashing the system or any other pods moving in that transit corridor.

The rep, Serrat, calls the team's bluff on the deal, and sends a secret signal that MB figures is likely an emergency abort mission on the hostage transfer, with a side serving of request for backup to come in shooting. MB kills the hotel's relay, and two backup relays that try to activate. Ratthi tells MB privately that Serrat has a small energy weapon. MB tells Pin-Lee to keep Serrat talking, and abandons the not so terrible plan for a more terrible one.

MB gets off the transit pod, and makes its way to the door. When it hears Serrat respond to the humans, it gets his relative position, and opens the door, and subdues him. Pin-Lee takes the comm device from him, and MB says it's blocked the device and his feed access. Serrat says they've threatened him with a deadly weapon and violated station law by bringing in a private SecUnit. Pin-Lee says SecUnit isn't a weapon, it's a person, and an angry one at that. Serrat says he sent a signal to call off the exchange, and no one will help them. Pin-Lee asks why they need to pay off the bond company so badly, or is all this about revenge?

Serrat’s face slipped into a skeptical sneer. He didn’t take them seriously, which, sure, I can see why. If you were GrayCris and regularly murdered humans as part of your job, the wrath of three research surveyors from a non-corporate backwater planet probably didn’t fill you with fear. And he was certain they were controlling me somehow. He said, “Revenge? You buy a SecUnit and send it to Milu to expose an essential GrayCris asset operation. You and your little planetary polity have the audacity to think you can compete with a corporation—what did you expect to happen?”

Pin-Lee says GrayCris started all this, while in the feed, Ratthi and Gurathin talk about Milu in the feed. MB is still working on restoring the hotel relays, but realizes that it still can't pick up Mensah's emergency implant.

They weren’t bringing her. This had all been for nothing. All of it, Milu, Miki’s death, the trip here, everything. I said, “Milu was my idea. I’m a rogue unit.”

Serrat says a truly rogue unit would have left a trail of bodies across the station.(8) MB says it wanted the trail to start here. It's deciding whether or not to crush his windpipe when Mensah's implant pings, so it pulls him away from the wall and chokes him unconscious. The humans try to stop it, but it says it knows what it's doing.

Pin-Lee points out Mensah's implant is pinging, and MB says she's on a transit pipe, and they need to go back to their shuttle. GrayCris will know what they're up to shortly. Before they can object, MB is already out the door, sprinting for the pod junction. In the feed, it tells them the group with Mensah is two minutes out, she will meet them at their shuttle, and do not try to contact MB on the feed. Ratthi says they're going, and to be careful, when MB cuts contact and gets in the pod, and shuts down its risk assessment module.(9)

=====

(1) You know, I don't half wonder, as Murderbot does later this chapter, if Gurathin just has resting stern face. He was the most skeptical of it up front, I'm not ignoring that, but after MB has proven itself, I wonder if it's just still interpreting Gurathin through its own suspicion, and if that perception is subject to change. (2) What do you think it's feeling here? I'm leaning toward gratitude to Pin-Lee that it doesn't know how to process. (3) Do you think Ratthi knows he's the himbo of the friend group? (4) That's a real asshole way of saying it, MB. LOL (5) I don't think it's in any real danger of becoming a Miki, but I can see why it's so worried, you know? It doesn't have any context for "reformed SecUnit, member of society" so it has to go on the only points of comparison it does have. (6) Yep, you don't-care so hard that you're flinching from your own words. (7) You don't-care so much you don't want to be rude to him. You anti-care so much you used your private name with him, when he respectfully used the one you asked him to use. Yep, no caring detected here. (8) Isn't it interesting how everyone assumes SecUnits can't be sapient and friendly? Or stealthy, or discreet. (9) Bah, that's nothing, it was faulty already anyway.

[scary-monsters]

I genuinely don't know how much longer I can do this

I try to keep mental health shit off this blog as much as possible bc that's not what it's for, it's supposed to be a place to share the things I make and to support others that love the same characters as I do. But also I need to be human sometimes

I haven't been getting enough sleep, my body won't let me rest more than 6 hours a night because I'm constantly riddled with anxiety and the pressure to work work work, be productive, do things or else you're useless.

I don't eat nearly enough because I can't afford to buy groceries most weeks and rarely have time to cook on the days I work. Most of the time I eat one meal a day and that's only on my 30min break at work. My body doesn't even like to take anything more than that.

I haven't bought new clothes in at least 2 years, because I can't afford to and why would I when I never go anywhere except work? If I have a day off I don't have the energy to try and look nice, I throw on old jeans and a t-shirt. And it sucks because clothing has always been a passion of mine and I used to take so much pride in the way I present myself. I miss that part of me.

I'm miserable all the time, if I'm at work I'm only thinking about suicide. I cry all the time. Yes I go to therapy, yes I have a psychiatrist, yes I take medication for my disorder. But it feels like nothing helps anymore.

My therapist asked me two days ago what the barriers to my goals and happiness are and I didn't even hesitate when I answered "work". My job is draining me to a point that is scary for me, I feel trapped in it because no matter how many applications I do, I always get 'no's. The jobs I do have a good shot at pay significantly less than what I currently make, so I can't risk losing that pay. I live by myself, I pay for everything by myself. I don't have anyone else to lean on.

We recently had a loss in the family, and while I handled it pretty well it also brought up all the other loss I've experienced in my life, and there's been a lot. To a point where if my mom calls and says "I need to talk to you", I immediately assume someone else has passed. So all I can think about lately is all those people and all the missed opportunities I had with them.

I'm tired and I don't know what to do, I feel lost and I can't help looking at suicide as my only option to get out of how shitty everything feels all the time. I'm only happy when I'm making art or writing or talking to friends, but when I don't have the energy to do those things?? What then? I sit here and stare at a screen and cry and wish I could be anyone other than myself. I can't measure up, and I'm kinda tired of trying.

I had to call in today because I can't do it, I feel myself falling apart at the seams, I've been snapping at coworkers and having attitude with customers, that's not me, but I feel like I'm losing myself. But because I called in I've now lost a quarter of my paycheck for this week. Every single day I have to pick whether I'd prefer experiencing suicidal ideation for 10.5 hours at work or sitting at home and feeling lost/lonely and crying instead.

I've been pretty good at hiding it and masking this year but idk, I don't have the energy to do it anymore. I'm lost, y'all, I have no direction and I don't know when/if things are gonna get better for me

(also I don't need anyone telling me that I could use vacation money to fix some of these issues; vacations are how I escape, and I need to do that. Plus I always save up PTO/money specifically for them.)

[statementlou]

I think that if tour is in some country or not is mainly on promoters. And artist team to convice them that it will work and how big venue they will booked. Really dont know after who go loses if they dont sell as much tikets as they thought. Here are money that are need for tour go even without any profit, you must pay all crew all travel costs insurances.... People go blame louis team first every time but it is more complicated that most people think. And in reality here was this year canceled asia tour which probably doesnt sell as good as they thought. So im not too much surprised that here is only one date in this moment.

Yes I agree- Louis' team is obviously trying so hard to make it work to go everywhere but it isn't that simple! I feel like it's local expenses most of all, even over promoters, but really I guess it's all those things added together or maybe those are the same thing- the travel and accommodation costs of hundreds of people and multiple semi truckloads of equipment, plus local visas, and fees, and promoters, and insurance, which I've seen people say has become so expensive that it's one of the biggest barriers.... It's possible you'd have to sell more tickets than there are in the venues to make it break even! I have no doubt that everywhere they can get the tour to, Louis is going to do it, but some places might just not be accessible unless you're very small (less infrastructure and people) or very very big (stadium level). However even if they aren't ready this year I wouldn't rule out next tour for a lot of these places- I don't think they will stop trying and the way his crowds are growing more and more things will become possible