#it’s not that this system was broken it’s working the exact way it was meant to we can not fix it we need to escape it

[scekrex]

Prompt for Adam x reader !!(male ofc)

Don't really know how to go into big details about this, but y'know how in your NSFW fics Adam and the reader have this "red light green light" system? where one asks the other a color and if they say green then they're good to go? yeahbb

Maybe a situation where the reader says red? Like where they need to stop? (Maybe from it being too rough and it hurting? but not the good kind of hurt..) so it's like NSFW but turns into fluff!! (Also because I wanna see how Adam handles aftercare..)

anyway thank you, last night I read like ALL of your Adam fics im so SRS!! 😞😞😞 I love ur writing sm!!

(I'd add a silly Adam image but idfk how asks work so ...)

Okay so I feel like Adam would suck at providing comfort and aftercare in a verbal way, he just doesn't have the words to guide you through it verbally, so he does it physically. I hope ya like it xoxo/p

This hurts me like Heaven

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, anal sex (in the beginning)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam pounded into you, rough, quick, there was no thought behind his eyes, not a single one that didn't scream ‘pleasure him, pleasure yourself’. His nails had broken the skin stretched over your hip bones a while ago, you didn't remember when, you were too zoned out. There was no mercy, not a single break and usually that was just fine by you, today though, today it very much wasn't. Why? You weren't quite sure yourself, it felt more painful, more intense, just more. In the most negative way possible.

The sound of his balls slapping against your ass over and over again which you normally liked, which normally came with pleasure and desire felt now bittersweet, you were enjoying it - well, you had been. Until it got too much. When that point had been reached you didn't remember, you had zoned out when the pain became too overwhelming at first, you had thought it would go away eventually. It didn't. It became unbearable, too painful, too quick.

“Stop,” you cried out as your face scrunched up in pain and you tried to pull your body away from the uncomfortable feeling that was causing many things but most definitely not pleasure. “Adam, stop,” you whined again, yet the man on top of you didn't stop and you couldn't blame him, stop never meant stop, stop usually meant ‘keep going’, ‘please, more' and ‘this feels good'. And given the pleasuring high the first man must've been on, you couldn't be mad at him for not recognizing your discomfort. He was too caught up in his own feelings, his own pleasure and your words didn't really indicate that you seriously wanted to stop and while your tone was filled with pain, it was also soaked with lust that started to wear off.

“Adam, red,” that got the brunette to stop immediately, he stared down at you as the clouds lifted from his golden eyes and his vision seemed to clear from the foggy lust that had occupied his mind. His confused frown shifted to something softer as he was quick to pull out of you yet gentle when he lifted your legs from his shoulders. Yes, there was a code word for when it got too much, but neither of you had ever used it before so the first man was quite overwhelmed on how he was supposed to handle the situation - the fact that he was still as hard as you were, was completely forgotten. “Are you-” he didn't finish the question, too afraid of your answer, too afraid that he had fucked up, that you would leave like everyone else had done. His mind was telling him that this was it - you had called out red and now you were never to have sex with him again. The look on his face said it all and you didn't like it, that's why you had code words, that's why you had red as a safe word. It was not like you had cried out red and he had continued to hurt you, no, the exact opposite was the case so why was he feeling bad? Well, simply because deep down inside, this man was very insecure.

You grabbed him by his neck and pulled him down, you felt how his arms and legs gave out and how he simply let himself collapse on top of you - that position didn't last long though, he was quick to roll himself over so that you were the one laying on his chest instead of the other way around. It eased the pain a little, the comfort your partner was providing felt like fluffy clouds that filled your brain, like a high that only Adam could give you, a high that took all the worries you had and threw ‘em away for as long as he held you. “You did fucking well, babes,” he hummed softly as he buried his face in your hair and wrapped his wings around you like a secure blanket that not only gave you comfort, but also pulled him closer against Adam's chest. “Did so fucking amazing by telling me that,” he added quickly, a soft kiss was pressed against the top of your head and you closed your eyes for a moment. The pain still lingered heavy in your body, the pain and the shock equally. You didn't move, couldn't move, but you embraced the warmth Adam offered so dearly. “I-” the word was barely audible, so quietly spoken that even you missed it, only Adam knew it had been spoken at all, a quick, “Fuck,” followed. You felt his body trembling, felt how his grip on you tightened, how he pulled you closer to his chest. He hadn't meant to hurt you, hadn't meant for it to go as far as it did. He knew you would brush it off later, and would tell him that that was what safe words are there for, but to Adam it was different. To him this meant that he had screwed up, that he had ignored your body language and had continued anyway even though your discomfort had been very visible. And yet this wasn't about you comforting him because of his overthinking, this was about him comforting you because he overstepped. And fuck, he was bad at providing comfort. Talking you through it he could technically do but his words failed him, they always did when it came to offering you comfort. He wasn't good with words, never had been.

So instead, he provided comfort with his actions, he kept you close, your head rested on his chest, you looked stressed and peaceful at the same time and while Adam thought it looked cute, it also made him worry. Your breathing was steady though, so that was one good thing. Your body was slowly calming down. Good, that was good. His wings remained wrapped around your body, your own wings had done the same thing, they had come up to wrap around you, to shield you away. One of the first man's hands gently petted the soft feathers of your wings as he started to hum a soothing tune. Oh how you loved that tune he hummed. His other hand traced the little gap between your wings on your back up and down, leaving his scent all over you.

Slowly your wings withdrew, exposing your body to Adam as he continued to hum that certain tune you enjoyed so much, when your eyes met his, it was love that looked down on you, non-verbal but love. You offered him a small and weak looking smile, that smile was met by an unsure one. You snuggled against his chest without a word being spoken, letting him know that you were okay for as long as he would hold you, so he continued to do so.

[autumnslance]

Werlyt in Lorebook 3

So Werlyt gets a page expanding on its location and history a bit, to be expected as the new Encyclopaedia Eorzea 3 goes over both Shadowbringers and Endwalker content. What they do with its history as an Imperial province again paints Gaius in a better light...in ways we already knew were IC for him as established in earlier content, while also being straight up out of Machiavelli's The Prince in a way that makes complete sense for the Empire when dealing with conquered provinces, and how we've even heard before how some of them are ruled very much like native Garlean regions.

See, one of the oldest tricks in the literal book is you conquer a province, and especially if it proves unruly, you give it a nasty governor. Use them to root out the rebellious factions, while also tearing apart the old systems, stripping resources, crushing the populace, etc. THEN you send in a Reasonable Guy to take over who ousts the bad vicious leader, restores order, treats the people well, and so on. Now that new governor--and by extension his emperor for sending him--looks better in the eyes of the people, a problematic political/military rival has been killed/broken politically, the unruly elements have already been culled, and the people are just grateful for a reprieve from their misery. More acquiescent and "this isn't so bad after all."

Another famous literary example (and with a new movie a few months out) is Dune; once Harkonnen takes back Arrakis, he sends one nephew, Raban, who is literally nicknamed "the Beast", to be a horrible bully of a governor. His job is to root out the remaining loyal Atreides and quash the local Fremen. Then once Raban's atrocities were at their peak, Harkonnen meant to send in his heir, Feyd-Ruatha, to be the golden prince who would get rid of the problematic Raban (lethally if needed) and be accepted by the people as a decent leader. Of course, Dune's story rolls out differently, but the play is the same.

The Garlean Empire did the exact same thing in Werlyt.

For 30 years the subjugated nation was oppressed and stripped of resources. When the Empire's attention moved toward Othard and the military presence thinned enough a rebellion rose up, it was still crushed, but not before the previous viceroy was killed in the revolt.

Then Gaius van Baelsar came in and restored order. We already knew Gaius had a habit of appointing the right people for the job, regardless of race and social standing; he continued that in Werlyt, and was otherwise a good governor, working to ensure the populace was cared for, administered properly, even improved education and literacy rates. So after a few decades of crushing abuse...now Werlyt had a "reasonable governor" who treated them like people and took care of them, if still under the auspices of the Empire. They made it look like a better deal, and the previous guy was a mistake that shouldn't have happened.

This also tracks with pre-Praetorium Gaius as the "true believer" of Garlemald's Imperial mission of taming the "savage" lands and ushering them into the "civilized" ways of the Empire and adding those peoples' knowledges, cultures, skills, and might to the Empire to make everyone better. That "unity" aspect he and other leaders like Quintus van Cinna spouted while missing the hypocrisy. Gaius was a good governor because he thought that was the entire point--and then also led to his opposition of the Meteor Project. He never wanted to wipe Eorzea out, he wanted to bring it under Imperial control and govern it as he had Werlyt.

So for twenty years, Gaius was the reasonable governor getting good grades in cultivating Werlyt as a respectable and flourishing province of the Empire. Then he was sent to Ala Mhigo to conquer that, and through it the rest of Eorzea.

...And then Valens van Varro took over Werlyt and pretty much overnight undid everything reasonable a decent governor would do because of his jealousy over Gaius and his own ambitions for power, especially after the civil wars left the Imperial throne vacant. Also cuz again, they have to spend this branch of story making Gaius look better by making Valens cartoonishly bad at everything. Rather than trusting what they already wrote about a complicated man who truly believed in his mission until forced to see how he had been a pawn sowing misery his whole life. But they've tended to rewrite Gaius and his on screen characterization a lot as it is, and with Garlemald not getting an expansion of its own (they had considered it but ultimately worked its fall into ShB and EW), it feels like they hammer this point in Werlyt to speed run what was supposed to be an actual rehabilitation arc for the character.

And then it once again frames the quintent as rebellious heroes who thwarted Valens plans to use them and the Weapons project for his own ends and sure we'll let that go cuz the folks in Werlyt need something. They do have a named leader (Talbot Hunte) and a government set up and none of it really mentions Gaius, though we know they put him in charge of their military. Cuz yeah, he was one of their conquerers--but they also know that they can work with him and that he knows how to run an army effectively.

Also all the quintet are literally named "aan Baelsar" in their entries, though the main thing I noticed there was that Milisandia did in fact dye her hair red to account for the discrepancy in her child appearances in the various flashbacks. Apparently it was cuz she noticed Alfonse seemed very fond of one of their caretakers at the orphanage, and so Milisandia changed her hair to be the same color to try and get his attention, quietly pining for him for years but never letting him know about her not-quite-sisterly affections.

[drivinmeinsane]

Would you wanna expand on Anna and K being siblings in all ways that matter? I agree, I'd just like to hesr your thoughts on the matter too :]

Oh man, you've opened a can of worms. 👀 Here's some of my rambling threads of thoughts complete with my mauled digital copy of the script and screencaps galore.

Spoilers for Blade Runner 2049 under the cut.

From the moment Ana is introduced, even before we meet her face to face, she is a mirror of K. They are copies of one another. Two people can't have the exact same genetic code, but the closest one can get is twins. They shared their defining memory and splintered off later in life as siblings do.

There was always meant to be two of them. The files say that one died from an illness and the other lived. We find out that Ana was stuck on-world from an illness that she developed. Only, she didn't die. She was left behind and abandoned to work for Wallace and other corporations needing her memory making services. Ana is the real girl and K is her ghost.

A life of freedom as long as it's behind glass. K has the same as long as he obeys the rigid system that keeps him tethered. Neither are truly living. It's escapism. They both dream of realities where they are loved. By illegally putting her memory into K, Ana created a family member. He's her copy—a sibling, a twin—someone who shared her life experience and could relate. Two children, protecting the only item they have left from a father who they had never met. As one, they had stowed it away in a furnace and enduring being beaten. They lived this. Together. Ana's last name of Stelline. Little stars. It beings to mind the Gemini zodiac sign. The twins. Castor and Pollux and their horses. K was the invisible companion of Ana, an unborn ghost. Maybe she imagined him when things got too dismal. Maybe she thought about having a brother or a sister. When the time came, she offered up the memory to the Wallace corporation so the burden of that childhood could be shared, understood. A sibling made reality. A ghost was made solid, living flesh. Who would have thought that replicant would come looking? Who would have thought Officer K would break every shred of genetic modification and careful conditioning to find her, his sister, while searching for answers because he cared, because he was part of Ana's scattered family and didn't know it.

Again, they mirror each other. In the same moment that Ana is looking at the snow falling on her hand, K is doing the same. Even in the end, they are connected. Left hand and right hand—two parts of a whole.

No one had ever come for K. He makes sure someone comes for Ana. He knows what it's like to want family so badly that your very bones ache, that you would kill another one of your kind for the first time for it. He found their father and brought him home. He was a good brother, a good son.

There is a void over Ana's right shoulder where K should be. Her ghost—her copy—has died even if she does not know it yet. His death in a roundabout way fulfills the prophecy of the DNA database findings. Two siblings, a boy and a girl. One dies. He haunted her before his inception and he haunts her still after his body is found on the stairs of the upgrade center. If only she had spoken up. If only K had told Deckard the truth. If only there had been another way to love someone without remaining a stranger.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record because I've honestly lost count of how many times I've said this, I genuinely believe Deckard would have shrugged and accepted the fact that he and Rachael had had two kids.

I think the three of them could have been happy together, but Blade Runner 2049 is a modern Greek tragedy seeped in the lore from thousands of years ago. There are no joyous endings here.

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Statistical Outliers

Part 6 and 6.5 of drabble. Another long one, but chopping it up would've been weird.

“I don’t even like you right now.”

Vox had been laughing for far too long. This might be the most he’s laughed since Alastor had his ass handed to him by the angel prick. He finally found something that scares the kid, and all that was required was a little body mutilation.

The kid was currently rewiring the circuits into his new head, but he kept his gaze down the whole time. A deep scarlet of embarrassment was seeable even under his fluff.

“You, hahaha, you sound like a broken dog toy! Hahaha!” He hadn’t so much as screamed as he had made this high-pitched squeak of distress. Everything else was perfect, the horrified look, the freaking out, but that squeak ruined any of drama that Vox might’ve wanted to see. Now, he couldn’t help but think of the tossing the kid across the floor just to hear that stupid noise plink like a bouncy ball.

“I can’t help it! It’s a fox thing, I think.”

Oh, Vox knew that. Val squeaks too. His were subtler though, like a wet sneaker on a tile floor sound. Go figure, he had to go hell before he ever found out that moths and foxes apparently squeak. More news at eleven.

“God, that’s, hahaha, so pathetic. Haha!”

The kid rolled his eyes and went back to his work. Off to the side, Vox was making sure to record everything. While his body was still sitting down and hugging its sides, his face appeared across every screen that wasn’t currently being ripped open for repairs. He was keeping a close eye on the situation, I mean, it was his head after all. That and, if he saw how to do it, maybe he could attempt it by himself. Write some code for his body to follow, a series of pathways meant for this exact action. At least that way he wouldn’t have to rely on anyone to do this again.

Oh, the things he was going to do to his engineer later.

“Hey, um, do you know why there’s limiters on it?” He asked, bringing up a string of small black boxes he pulled from the backside.

Limiters? What hell was a limiter?

“Why? Something odd about it?”

“I mean, wasn’t the point of all these upgrades to give you more options? The limiters make it so there’s a cap on everything. The sound can’t get to max. The brightness can’t go above a certain degree. That sort of thing. Sometimes people use them when the system can’t take it, and it prevents burnout but…I mean this is as state of the art as possible. There’s no reason to have them here.”

Double dead, his engineer was double dead.

“If it doesn’t have to be there, no need to take up the space then.” He said, trying to be casual. The kid seemed to notice the twitching of his eyes though, so it’s not as if he couldn’t tell that he wasn’t…miffed by that.

The kid nodded in agreement and started unplugging them from the rest. About, the sharks had finished with their meal and were now lazily floating around. They always get like that after a large meal. One second, they were vicious man eaters, then next they were oversized house cats. For Vox, anyways. They hated just about everyone else.

“I like your sharks, by the way. Do they have names?”

“Anchor and Barge.” He said, his headless body pointing at the hammerhead and the tiger respectively. “They’d both eat you alive, you know.”

“After that meal? I don’t know. Sharks are pretty slow to digest things.”

True. Very true. He didn’t jump in there with them for obvious reasons, but he does find it easier for his aquarium workers to clean it up if they work right after breakfast or dinner…or one of them falls in around lunchtime and the rest wait until after the sharks were finished.

“So, you know about TVs and sharks. You’re a weird kid.”

“Yup.” He scanned his work, then stood up. “Okay, all done.”

What?

“All done?”

“Yup.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes.”

“I know.” He sighed. “Had to get all the limiters out. Sorry it took so long.”

It used to take all fucking day. He had to plan for months when he was going to do a big upgrade. He had to reschedule appointments, hold off on any later announcements, and god forbid Vel or Val have any minor inconvenience that day. It was a nightmare to deal with. The only reason he was fine with doing it today was because he literally hadn’t had a choice. He couldn’t exactly attend business meetings with half of a face. That said, he fully expected to be in cyberspace even longer since, you know, it wasn’t his technician doing it but a literal child. A smart child, granted, but still.

“So…how do I put it back on?” He threw his hands up. “And please try not to scare the hell outta me. A little warning first, maybe?”

He didn’t get it. His body stood up like the headless horseman and lifted his new head up over his shoulders. Cables, wires, and what amounts to veins and arteries in him now, climbed up through his neck and into the new set. Like a horde of sentient worms, they twisted and slid where they needed to. From the outside, it might look like he was being possessed. Or that Vox was secretly a bunch of leeches all working together to form some form of being. As the last wires connected, he jolted into the electrical stream. In the span of milliseconds, he crossed every pathway, checked every system, and detailed every change.

The kid did a good job. A great job, actually. Huh.

The so-called limiters being gone was interesting. He really hadn’t noticed them at all, but now, it was as if he’d had a cold all this time and only just got over it. Turns out, his speakers could get even louder, and the frequency can get to spectrums even dogs couldn’t hear. The brightness was also absurd. He often liked to see Val’s face turn to mush when he turns it up in the dead of night, a part of being a moth he’s never really gotten over. Now, he feels like he could probably blind someone like that, if he wanted to. Power output was also insane. He could kill with it before, sure, but he’s not sure he’s had the ability to bypass other functions, essentially just letting specific parts of himself be almost exclusively energy if need be. If he had, he’s surely never used it before, probably because he would’ve been running the risk of having everything that wasn’t energy accidentally fried from the overload.

“Okay, I know it’s all wires and stuff, but that was pretty gross.”

“You still own your soul, right?”

The kid paused.

“Um, yes?” He said, then quickly added. “It’s not for sale.”

Vox laughed, a little more sardonic this time.

“Everything is for sale. The question is just the price.”

With the snap of his fingers, the whole room lit up with possibility. He could have fame and fortune, the applause of all, his own show, his name reaching the farthest corners of hell. He could have comfort and a place of his own, something he wouldn’t have to share and somewhere to feel like home. He could have security and safety, never again having to worry about the frivolous battles and vicious monsters they live with down here. He could give him any toy he wanted. He could track down any family he might have down here. He could pull some strings and send him upstairs for a time.

All these things and more played across the room like collage of different endings, each sweet and inviting. He could be walking the red carpet. He could be playing video games in his own penthouse. He could be safe in the arms of his mother or his father or whoever else might be out there looking for him. And he could stay here, in Vee tower. He’d even let him sleep on the couch.

“See? I could give you everything. Anything. And what would it really cost you? You’d work for me. Not a bad deal, huh?”

He looked tempted, especially by the idea of family. His eyes lingered there longer than any other. Still, he sighed and offered Vox a somber look.

“That’s a very generous offer, but I’ll have to pass.”

“You sure that’s wise, kid?” Vox teased, slowly working his way around to his side. He skimmed a hand on his shoulder. “Think of what you’re missing out on! Take some advice from me, when opportunity knocks, seize it!”

He wasn’t paying attention to the kid’s hands. All his focus was on his face, that’s where weakness shows. He didn’t account for the strength of a hand. His little paw reached up and grabbed Vox’s claw. He pulled it down slightly, now just holding it. He almost swayed with it.

“You don’t owe me anything, you know. I don’t mind helping out my friends.”

The screens all blinked out at the same time.

“We are not friends.” He said, pointedly. “I don’t have friends.”

He can remember hearing that, seemingly ages ago, from someone he really thought was one. The kid held on just a tad tighter.

“What about Velvette and Valentino?”

“That’s entirely different.”

“Well, I’m might not be your friend, but you’re my friend.”

“I…I was literally going to kill you not, like, an hour ago!”

“Yeah, so? Husk stole all my money last week playing poker. Nifty stabbed me in hand, like, three times the week before.” He mentioned offhand, like any of that was normal. “I mean, Alastor tried to eat me the day before you grabbed me, I’m kind of used to-”

“He is not your friend!”

He’s not sure who was more surprised by the outburst, the kid or himself. His face glitched at the idea of Alastor and any concept of friendship. Really? Manipulating children? Is that what the great radio demon has been reduced to? Yeah, sure, Vox was offering to buy his soul off of him, but at least he intended on fulfilling his end of the bargain.

His hand gripped tighter, and his claw unintentionally dug into the kid’s palm.

“Kid, if you learn nothing else from any of this, I want you burn this into your skull: Alastor will always look out for himself first. He will lie, cheat, murder, or be the most charming person you’ve ever met, as long as it benefits him. Nothing he says is the truth. And he will play anyone against anything if he gets something out of it. If hell was burning down to the ground, he’d step over everyone to be king of the ashes.”

“I…I mean he is…creepy sometimes. I know he lies a lot.” He stuttered.

He grabbed him by his shoulders, forcing him to look him in the face.

“Trust your instincts.” The swirls of his hypnotic eye danced with focus. He hadn’t even done it on purpose. Any time the radio freak pops up, he tends to drown out other thoughts. Oddly, the kid’s attitude didn’t change. His smile was gone now, but he was still giving him that stupidly soft look.

“Where you two friends?”

The bitter truth tasted like bile on his tongue.

“Alastor doesn’t have friends, kid.”

He only had pawns. Allies, maybe. And ladders to higher power. Everyone else was a waste of time.

“Well, you’ve got one thing now that he doesn’t then.”

I…he…ugh.

“Oh, shut up, kid.”

…

It was little surprise to him that Velvette and Valentino were waiting in their lounge, not so subtly sitting around as if they had nothing else better to do. He knew they were lying around, hoping he’d come out. Val might want to continue their fight, or at least marvel in his small victory with Vox’s broken screen. Vel, he can only imagine, wants to see Vox’s reaction to her stupid little prank. The better the reaction, the better the video it would make.

Surprise to all! Voxtek now presenting ‘You fucked up!’: the show! Watch as two of hell’s strongest overlords sit there gaping like fish as Vox walked in, nothing but smiles and a clean screen!

The kid was quick on his heels, though he stopped a little short the minute he saw Val.

“Um, hey, Vee.” Velvette started. Her video was already rolling so she needed something for content. “You look good. Anything happen today?”

“Oh, worked on a few projects. Got some exciting things coming up for sure!” He offered a hand out towards Valentino. “Like Valentino’s new film. I’m sure he’s just about done shooting it. We’re all very excited by all the big promises you’ve made about the star quality.”

In truth, Val’s recent work was nowhere near done. He was always more interested in the actions on the screen than anything involved in actual screenplay. That’s part of the reason the scripts were always for shit. This particular project started off as more of a fever dream, and just started escalating from there. Vox knew, because of course he did, that Val was nearly out of time and also out of budget.

And he also knew who Val would go running to, to fix everything right before it gets released.

He took a big drag of smoke, and nearly choked on it.

“Uh…” Velvette almost looked apologetically at Val for turning the gun on him by accident. “I meant, did anything else happen today?”

Oh, he didn’t realize they were lining up for an execution today!

“Actually, yes! The strangest thing happened before!” He gently guided the kid forward. “I found this little guy all by himself, unattended! Who knows what could’ve happened to him if I’d not found him! Obviously, his owner was very negligent in his care. Now, I understand that she was very busy with so many important things to do today. Therefore, until she’s done with her little projects, I’ll take it upon myself to make sure he’s safe!”

Vel’s mouth dropped in silent agony. Careful dear, still being recorded.

Vox popped his bowtie, his collar flaring open and exposing his neckline. He slowly dragged his jacket off and tossed it over his arm. Val’s eyes dragged across his chest the whole time. He’s pretty sure he actually ate some of the cigarette.

“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’ve had a very exciting day. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

“W-what about food?” Vel said suddenly, grasping for a reason for him to stay.

“Tell my secretary that I’ll be ordering in tonight. I’m thinking Chinese.” He started to walk towards his room. The kid had enough sense to follow without argument, though he seemed less confident with Vox’s co-workers burning their gazes into their backs.

Val didn’t get his argument, his trophy shot, or his makeup sex. He was going to be angry and alone tonight. Vel didn’t get her candid shot of Vox’s embarrassment, instead making her come across like a joke. He didn’t expect her to post that video, if only to save face.

When the door to his room closed, he only just kept from laughing.

“Aren’t they going to be mad tomorrow?” The kid asked. He stepped into the room with uncertainty, like he was afraid to disturb the space.

Vox’s room, like his workspace, was pretty sterile looking, almost futuristically modern in design. He tossed the jacket into a side pocket on the wall. From there, his machines would wash it, press it, and hang it back up in his closet. A flick of the wrist, and the suite came to life with lights, stripes of neon blue that pulsed about. The hidden fireplace rose up from the floor, turning on with a hiss of gas. Off to the side, he could hear his bathtub prepping itself, turning on the warm water after an appropriate amount of fragrances were added to the mix.

He always thought it was a little silly of Val, constantly having his personal servants running around and doing everything for him like that. In the age of the electronic servant, why would you ever leave anything up to a human unless you had to? It was so much more trouble.

“They’ll be mad.” Vox confirmed with a nod.

“Isn’t that bad?”

He gave a quick turn, just so the kid could see the utter delight on his face.

“It’s only bad if you don’t know how to use it. And, trust me, I’ve lived with these two for more than long enough to navigate just about any thought in their heads. You’ll come to find that they’re dreadfully predictable when they’re angry.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess.” He muttered. “Are…are we still getting Chinese?”

Vox brought up the menu on his phone and let him shift through it. He already knew what he wanted anyway. He gave a quick point over to another setup of monitors, all of them hooked up for voice commands.

“Tell the computer what you want. It already has my order pre-programed. It’ll send a text to my secretary, and she’ll handle the rest. Just answer the door when she knocks. I’m taking a bath.”

With that, he left him to his own devices.

His bathroom smelled of sea salt and ocean breeze. Just opening the door made him almost nostalgic about his mortal days of summer, out on the end of the island. The tub was less of a tub and almost like a small swimming pool. Up above it, the ceiling was fitted to allow it to become a shower at any time. He didn’t often take showers, on account of his head being, you know, a TV, but he did like the kinetic energy it gave the room anyways. It felt a bit like he controlled the weather too.

He stepped down into the water and turned on the jets.

Oh, he needed this. Today might’ve started off like shit, but it was ending out on a high note.

Now then, the plan for tomorrow. Though he’s rested his body, letting the whirling water pull the knots from his muscles and batter down sore spots to the point of pleasure, his mind kept running. It was kinda a curse really. He never fully relaxed ever.

The miniature aquarium he had there, a circulating one of moon jellies, caught his eyes’ attention while his brain rambled on and his body unwound.

Aside from Vel and Val issues, he had one other major concern. The kid still wasn’t under contract. He tried tempting with sugar. That hadn’t worked. Close, but no cigar. That meant that, tomorrow, he was going to have to try the other way. Weirdly enough, he was actually, truly dreading it.

Not only was the kid hard to scare in general, apparently, but Vox kept feeling a little sick thinking about that broken cry, asking him if he was okay.

He seemed to care significantly less about his own, personal safety than he did for…his friends. And, unfortunately, Vox currently only had one of those on hand for use…aside from himself, he’d suppose. How would one threaten themselves anyways? Note to self, look into that. For now though, Angel was going to have to do, wasn’t he?

Ugh. This was going to suck. Buck up, Vox. You do what you have to do, nothing less.

His cameras informed him that his secretary just dropped off the food. She was a little gob smacked to be opening the door to the kid. Her shirt was opened three buttons more than appropriate, and her skirt about six inches too short. When the kid showed up in his place, she looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

Food was calling. Time to get out.

Thankfully, his machines had a new warm robe ready for him. Val keeps stealing them and not giving them back. It’s probably because he makes sure they’re pre-heated before tossing them on, like fresh clothing from the drier.

He stepped out to find that his food was already put together for him, plate, silverware, and fortune cookie to boot. He wasn’t about to bet on who set that up, his secretary or the kid.

To his surprise, instead of finding him where he expected, over by the TV, he found him sitting and admiring the view from the broad, curved windows.

“Wow, you can see everything from up here.”

Vox grabbed his food and joined him, more out of curiosity than anything else.

“Well, I designed it like that.” He mentioned. “To be fair, I designed most of these buildings on this side of the pentagram.”

The skyrises made it feel more like home, if he were honest, which he never was.

“That’s…actually really cool. I’m lucky if I can get a card tower up.” Then, he spotted something familiar. “Hey! You can see the hotel from here!”

Sure, he supposed. He gets a better view from his drones. Speaking of, it seemed like they hadn’t had any more luck today than they had the last couple of days. The princess was in literal tears, both her girlfriend and her father trading off between comforting her. Angel Dust only just got back, his driver dropping him off not a moment ago. Vox didn’t need to turn up the audio to know that they were asking if he’d gotten anything useful today. The answer was no, obviously.

These people cared about him. They were distraught and desperate and thinking the absolute worst must’ve happened. There was a very, very small part of him that almost pitied that.

Then, a little anger bubbled up from nowhere. Why the fuck did you let him go alone? Not fucking one of you could’ve gone with him? Like, yeah, the worst did happen, but could you imagine if it was worse than that? Vox was bad news, obviously. But…so there so many worse things that could’ve happened.

That made feel gross, like the bath didn’t matter. Then he got mad because why did he feel gross? Then, he felt worse because why did even question why he felt gross? Then-!

“My fortune cookie insulted me.”

Oh, thank god. That rabbit hole was one he wasn’t going to crawl out of otherwise.

“What?”

“It says ‘Your life is a blockbuster of bad luck. Enjoy the Oscar’.”

“That is the best fortune cookie I’ve ever heard.” He might’ve wheezed, probably swallowed a chicken bone while he was at it.

“What does yours say?”

He didn’t actually eat the cookie. Most of the time he threw them away. He made his own luck but, well, when in Rome.

He unfurled the sheet of paper and began to recite it.

“‘Everyone you’ve ever stalked online had just been notified’.”

There was good pause, before they both started rolling. The kid coughed on his water, spewing out like a vaporizer. Vox tickled himself enough to accidentally pop a laugh track from his mix.

“Who makes these?” Vox rasped. “I need to get some for those two outside, hahaha!”

Memo from Vox to Vox, always order from that Chinese food place whenever he needs to lighten the mood.

They polished off the rest of their meal shortly, but they still caught themselves looking out the window. The embassy tower seemed so out of place now, sand dripping down to nothing, and a clock that didn’t keep time.

“It still feels weird that its over.” The kid said.

“Yeah.” He pointed at the building. “We should melt it down and turn it into a giant sign that says ‘Fuck you’ so they can read it from up there.”

“You know, I think Lucifer said something similar.”

Well, he now knew more about the king of hell than he thought he would. Great minds think alike and all that.

“Did you guys just hang out up here when it happened?” He asked.

“You mean extermination day? Yeah, of course. I’ve got every security feature in the world in this building. The place is basically a bunker when it has to be. It was just easier for those feathered freaks to go hunting for the easier prey on the streets.”

He shrunk, disheartened by something or another.

“Yeah, it was pretty scary out there.”

…hold on.

“Wait, you were out there? Like, on the streets? On extermination day? Are you stupid?”

“I didn’t really have a choice.” He argued back, ears flicked against his head. “I didn’t have anywhere to live back then so-”

“You…you lived on the street?” In Hell? That was-! I mean-! Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding!

He pointed down at a line of buildings you could just barely see. That part of town was all very old stores, secondhand electronics, and pawnshops. It was barely lit, and almost dilapidated. Last time there was a hellquake, two of the buildings collapsed in on themselves.

“Over there, next to that pawnshop with the ring on it, is a store that resells electronics. Most of the TVs are really old and not hooked up to the new system. The owner plays a lot of re-runs on them though, so people know they work. I used to live in the alleyway right next to it. The TV boxes were a lot thicker than the other boxes, you know?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

“What did you do when they came in to slaughter everyone? Hide and hope they don’t find you?” His voice jumped up an octave.

“Yeah, basically. Or run. Also, I’m kinda of small, much smaller than they are so I could sneak into the pipes if I climbed down into the sewer. ‘Course then you gotta worry about gators, but at least when they get you, you’re not dead dead. Just the usual dead.”

“…why did you say it like that?”

“I mean, unless it’s cause of an angel, we don’t really die down here. It just…hurts, and you show up again sometime later…which also kinda hurts.”

It’s not ‘kinda hurts’. It’s excruciating. It’s akin to torture. That’s why it’s still a big freaking deal, and why people still don’t want to die down here.

“Did you-! Holy shit, do you die a lot?”

“Uh, I used to. Not so much anymore. When I first got dropped down here, there were guys who found me and made a game of hunting me down with their hellhound friends. I think they were British, but I’m not sure. They used to get me a lot. Then there were the usual crazies running around, that sort of thing. But I’ve been doing pretty good these past couple of years. I think years. Man, my idea of time is gonna get so bad without extermination day keeping me straight.”

“You’re twelve right?”

“Yup, or thirteen. I forget.”

“How long have you been down here?”

He thought for a second.

“Since the 90s, but I forget the year…Vox? You okay? Your screen’s bugging out. Everything feel okay with the circuits?”

30 years! A twelve year old in Hell for 30 years!

“Um, Vox. I-I don’t think your face should be doing that-”

Are they deranged? What the fuck!

“Are they crazy? What manic torments a fucking kid for 30 years?” It’s too bad he just replaced his face. He felt like he might need a new one in short order. “And you! You just let it happen? Put up a fucking fight!”

He just stared.

“I…I am four foot nothing. I am fuzzy, with very tiny teeth and paws. I don’t have electricity powers or evil shadows or extra arms or anything. I just fix things. I’m good with cars. That’s…that’s all I have. I don’t think someone like me was meant to thrive down here.”

“How do you still have your soul? Why do you still have your soul? You could’ve soul it! Gotten something for yourself, anything!”

“What good would that have done?”

“A job. A place to sleep. I don’t know, kid. I offered a lot.”

“Yeah but…most of Hell owes their soul to somebody. They didn’t seem any happier than me.”

God, this kid.

“You know, part of being down here is indulging in the worst parts of yourself.” He explained like he would explain to someone who was braindead. “That includes getting mean, and even selling your soul.”

“So…what? I’m already down here so it’s not worth it trying to be nice or better?”

“Exactly!”

“That’s silly.”

Holy shit, he was just as bad as Lucifer’s brat.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe in this redemption bullshit. Please don’t tell me you let all this crap happen to you because you think you had a shot at getting into that fuzzy place.”

Blood trickled down from his mouth. Vox hadn’t even realized he’d stressed the kid out enough to bite down on his lip.

“Don’t tell Charlie.” He pleaded. “Please?”

“…Don’t tell Charlie what?”

“I…I’m not sure I believe it. On one hand, I kinda hope you can, but on the other hand…then…me being here isn’t a mistake. And I don’t know what else I’m doing wrong.” He gulped some air. “I joined the hotel because…even if we can’t get into heaven that doesn’t hell has to be that bad. If Hell really was a hell, it’d so much worse than this, right?”

For once, Vox heard something he could agree with. Hell sucked. No denying that. But…he’s lived through so much worse than this. As Alastor had once said, hell was what you made of it. And Vox chose to be on top.

This kid though? He shouldn’t have any hope left. He would call him delusional except…he was a kid. He was always going to be a kid. He’s never going to understand. He can’t.

He was robbed of his life. Thrown to wolves in his afterlife. And all he thought about was learning to be nicer to people. Because that might change something.

“That,” He said finally. “is a great way to get yourself killed. Try to be kind to the literal worst of humankind.”

“I’ve survived so far.” He smiled again, through a bloody grin. “I’m a kid, but I’m not stupid. I’m not about to go hug Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“You’ve all but hugged me.”

To that, the kid just beamed.

Well, he’s not Dahmer. That’s for sure.

You know, that’s more than enough emotional damage for today.

“Okay, time for bed.” He stood up. Over by his dresser, he tossed on his comfier set of pajamas. He grabbed a big shirt of his and tossed it over. The kid leapt up pretty high, catching and tossing it on before he even hit the ground. Agile little thing.

He all but collapsed into bed. The silk sheets felt so nice and smooth. He never loved his mattress more than when he’s been away from it too long. But, the second he settled in, he caught sight of the kid curled up on the floor by the window. Vox didn’t have much in the way of rugs or carpeting. He knew the floor was cold and…well…now with the mental image of the street…

“God fucking damnit.”

Reluctantly, he got back up. He walked over, picked the kid up like you would a cat, then brought him back to the bed. He sat him at the foot of it, where Vox’s feet would be in a second, and he tossed him a spare blanket.

“You stay there. Don’t even think of crawling in next to me because that’s Val’s side of the bed and lord knows what you’ll catch from being there.”

With that, Vox called it a day. He dragged his wayward mind back to the items on the list for tomorrow: Velvette’s punishment, Valentino’s anger management, and the Val and Angel deal to name a few things. Also, track down that technician of his because he’s going to need to fry something after today.

His dreams got the better of him about halfway through the night, thinking of things that never wanted to crawl out of his head. Alastor’s mocking smile bearing down on him. Oh, stupid Vox. Don’t get attached now. Remember what I said about weakness?

His eye flicked open, only for a moment, when a wet nose touched his hand. The kid was still on top of his blanket, but he’d crawled up enough to let Vox’s fingers thread through the top of his head. He probably saw something on the screen that bothered him.

Whatever. He wasn’t awake enough to yell.

So, he went back to sleep. And when Alastor tried to tease him again, he told him to fuck off. You’re just jealous because you don’t have one. Go die alone, you crazy shadow freak.

And he did, because dreams could be really sweet sometimes.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10

[paranormeow7]

autism machine brain

some random thoughts. disclaimer I am between levels 1-2 and have generally low support needs. please do not take my personal experiences as written to describe the whole community!! if others have similar experiences to me, maybe with different words, feel free to share them. it’d be interesting to hear from people all around the spectrum. but do not take my words and use them to talk over others who are not me.

this is mostly about ideas of what is seen as ableist in the community and how it pertains to how I like to identify and describe myself. there’s a stereotype that is seen as ableist, that (usually low support needs) autistic people are like robots. honestly, I feel like one, and it comforts me to identify with them, as I feel like my brain operates and processes language/actions etc like one. specifically, a slow, old family computer.

I call myself slow, which may be seen as ableist language, because I am slow. Maybe due to catatonia (I think that’s the right word?) and like. cognitive stuff? like how it’s kind of hard to like. comprehend and process things unless they are perfectly laid out for me. it is not unlike writing lines of code. if the line of code is not written perfectly into my brain engine, I will freeze up and be unable to complete the action properly. Ive gotten better about this as I’ve gotten older, but I still usually need to be told the exact details of how to do a lot of complicated things, like schoolwork, especially math.

there are just simply too many steps and possibilities. I get overwhelmed and don’t know where to start, as there is too much room for error. even as I try to fill in the blanks and infer what I am meant to do based on what I know, it is simply too much of a risk to attempt something I understand so little. my brain short circuits and blue screens, and I end up sitting, staring at my task and thinking of nothing. this is not ideal for school!! but it is so hard to ask for help, because I feel stupid and disruptive. other kids just run on a newer and faster operating system than me. i am simply behind on software updates.

a big part of my experience as autistic is having an incredibly hard time figuring out how to do or even comprehend things that are new to me, foreign to me, too complicated and large for my mind to run efficiently. I don’t even really know if I’m explaining this properly. At this very moment I am scraping through those lines of code, looking for errors. I very much have a hard time deviating from my “comfort zone”, things that I have already been doing and repeating. repetition is comforting to me. I have already run these programs countless times, and they are proven to work.

My robot brain is my explanation as to why I have trouble improving my art, why I have struggle with disordered eating, why I sound so dry while texting and so awkward while talking. i need the steps broken down for me in such a specific way that is simply not possible most of the time if I want to understand how to do something new or in a new way. for example, I draw the same things over and over, and as such, I do not improve. need to learn fundamentals like lighting, space, form color etc. but attempting such a task is so very daunting. what if I do it wrong? what if I crash? where do I start? Or I try to make something for myself to eat. What if I ruin the dish? There are ingredients in this dish that are not proven to be edible by me. This is cooked in a way that may not be able to run on my operating system. Corrupted code, threatening to break the program. Instead of eating something otherwise healthy and nutritious, I may choose the same, simple food, or not eat altogether.

I am rather verbose, having collected many evocative words over the years, but when there is a concept that I have not attempted to explain before or must explain in a new way, my brain struggles to put it together. a jigsaw puzzle can only be put together successfully in one way. I am not a creative person. I cannot find new and creative ways to complete the puzzle. all I can do is put it together in the same way each time. I often upset people when texting with them, as I use the same responses, same wording, same punctuation etc over and over. To them, they may feel like I am simply uninterested or bored with the conversation. Texting can be stressful because I must rearrange the puzzle in a different way over and over as to not make the person feel ignored. It must hurt to see someone reply with the same mannerisms and phrases each time you speak to them.

I have compared myself to a generative ai before. That may be what I am, but I don’t think I am a very good generative ai. I am more like a factory machine being made to run the software of a generative ai. A machine that has been putting cars together over and over is suddenly asked to create a picture. it is so very strange to be an artist in this state!! again, I do not consider myself a creative person!! it is a lot of the reason I see my work as lacking the same spark and life to it as others work does. they can imagine all sorts of ways to create, all I can do is haphazardly rip apart what I already know, put it back together, run the program and hope it works.

I do love to learn. I do love to scrape and compile new words, new techniques, new food, new tasks to update my software. this is why I have low support needs, as over time I have been slowly integrating more and more features into my program. but it is still overwhelming and disheartening to see my classmates diligently working on an assignment that I rainbow wheeled through the too fast, too complicated explanation of, or see another artist younger than me create beautiful work using techniques that threaten to crash my brain trying to deconstruct, or eating something that I wish to try, but may threaten to poison my code.

I don’t want to be a factory machine, assembling the same parts over and over. I want to be a person, capable of creativity and confidence and working around error and operating smoothly without freezing or shutting down or overheating all the time, needing long cooldown periods, time spent laying in bed doing nothing when I could be lending my time to be productive and do things I want to do. but since I don’t have any other words to describe my experience, it is a comfort to at least be able to name the feeling in a way that others may be able to understand. saying you function like a vintage IBM on dial up also sounds better than saying you’re developmentally retarded.

or maybe my attention span will get better if I get off that damn phone amirite LOLOLOL

but sorry if this was incomprehensible. I feel like it was.

[darkmacadamien]

Whumptober 2023, No. 2: Thermometer

It starts with a tickle in the back of his throat.

Well, technically, that isn’t true. Really, it starts when Jamie is young, growing up in a council estate, shoved tight like sardines with a bunch of other little kids that would wipe their dripping noses with their shirtsleeves instead of tissues because tissues weren’t a fucking essential, were they? It started with broken heaters and bad insulation and threadbare clothing and staying so fucking cold, all the time, that sometimes he forgets what it’s like to be warm. And together, it all starts with Jamie getting the flu for the first time when he turns five years old and him not being able to get rid of it since.

They say that the more often you get sick with stuff like the flu, the easier it’s supposed to be on the body, yeah? The less likely you are to get sick again, especially with all the shots and stuff that the doctors tell you to take to stave it off.

Unfortunately, Jamie has only ever found the exact fucking opposite to be true. Every time January rolls around, like clockwork, Jamie catches the flu. It don’t matter if he’s gotten the vaccine (which he does, every single year, like it’s ever fucking helped him), it don’t matter if he stays five feet away from anyone with anything resembling a sniffle; hell, it don’t even matter if he manages to avoid stumbling across a single sick person all fucking year.

He’ll wake up, middle of the month, with a little tickle in the back of his throat, and then he’s down for a week with a fever from hell. Never mind the fact that he’s an elite athlete and that his immune system ought to be fucking peak, yeah? And it only seems to get worse each year (and he can hear his mum’s voice in his head now, Jamie, love, that’s not how that works, but that’s sure how it fucking feels like it works, not that he’d ever curse at his mum like that).

Mum, bless her heart, used to coddle Jamie to death when he was sick. She’d bundle him up in their warmest blankets, ply him with warm tea mixed with fresh honey and lemon juice (the kind they couldn’t really afford, but only the best for her sexy little baby, innit), and then she’d run her fingers through his hair until he could fall asleep, even if it meant she got sick too. But Jaime’s mum picked up so many extra shifts that she rarely caught when Jamie got sick ‘cause by the time she’d get home, Jamie would be asleep. Didn’t help matters any when Jamie started hiding it, ‘specially as he got older, ‘cause even though his mom tried to play it off, they couldn’t really afford for her to miss work like that. So most of the time, he’d just take care of it himself, even if his Dad happened to be around, ‘cause his Dad’s solution to a sore throat was downing a shot of pure liquor, yeah?

So, when Jamie wakes up with that stupid fucking feeling, he already knows what to do, ‘cause it’s always the same old song and dance. He pulls on a soft pair of trackies and a loose jumper and shuffles out the door a little earlier than usual, ‘cause he wants to see the doctor before the rest of the lads come in; like hell is he missing training without a doctor’s note, ‘specially after what happened last time.

Still keeps him up at night, sometimes, the way Lasso had yelled at him.

The doctor seems a bit surprised to see him so early, but she’d been there last year when he’d come down with the flu, so she don’t stay surprised long.

“Hey doc,” Jamie croaks, wincing from the soreness in his throat. “Think I got the flu.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” she says, and sends him home with the good cough syrup (the kind that probably ought to be a controlled substance, with how woozy it makes him) and a promise to let the coaches know he’ll be out for a few days.

Roy notices Jamie’s absence like how you’d notice the absence of an annoying fucking fly after it’s stopped buzzing around your head, mostly because you’d swatted the fucker out of midair and now it’s stuck to the nearest hard surface, flat like a pancake with twitchy little legs.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Unfortunately, Roy has done no such swatting (at least recently), so he has no fucking clue why Jamie isn’t at training right now. Similar to how Roy hates annoying fucking flies that buzz around his head, he hates not knowing when Jamie Tartt is up to things he shouldn’t be.

“Where the fuck is Tartt?” Roy barks midway through training, when he and the rest of the coaches are all standing on the sidelines doing that bullshit with their arms where it looks like they’re discussing plays but really, they’re just making the lads do what-the-fuck-ever so they can gossip like old ladies.

“Oh, you mean Jamie?” Lasso asks, in his typical jovial Yankee tone, like he wakes up and eats fucking sunshine and sprinkles for breakfast. Oh, how it pisses Roy off.

“Who the fuck else?” Roy grinds out, clenching his jaw.

“Whoa, now, don’t blow a fuse there, ROY-G-BIV. I was just checking. Hey, speaking of fuses, that reminds me— Coach, you remember that one time we were driving down the highway, and my old truck started making those funny noises?”

“Sure do, Coach,” Beard says.

“Well, as it turns out—"

“Stop,” Roy says. “I don’t give a fuck. I’ll ask again: why is the Prince Prick of all Pricks not here right now?”

“Just to make sure,” Lasso says slyly, “you’re talking about Jamie, right?”

“Fuck!” Roy shouts. “We just fucking went over this.”

“Yeah, I know. Just wanted to see what would happen,” Lasso admits, before fist-bumping Beard like they’d both been in on some amazing fucking joke. Fucking Yankees.

“Anywho, he came in pretty early this morning to see the doc. Looks like he’s come down with the flu, so she sent him home,” Lasso says.

“The fucking flu?” Roy asks. He can’t remember if that’s bad or not, ‘cause one of the perks of having a doctor for a sister is that he rarely gets sick. “Is he going to die, or some shit?”

“Oh, no way,” Lasso says, waving his hand dismissively. “He’ll feel pretty crummy for a couple of days, but he’ll bounce back pretty quick.”

“I see,” Roy says grimly, and promptly fucking forgets about it. If the little prick isn’t at risk of dying, then he really doesn’t fucking care.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Except, as it turns out, Roy really does sort of fucking care. It sticks in the back of his mind, like when you step in gum and you can’t seem to scrape it off your shoe. Maybe a normal person wouldn’t die from the flu, but Tartt was a fucking idiot overachiever and would find a way somehow.

Roy dials his sister. “What the fuck do you do for someone when they’re sick?” he asks as soon as the line connects.

“Hello, Roy, I’m doing well, thanks for asking,” she says. “And it depends. Sick with what?”

“The fucking flu.”

His sister makes a sympathetic noise, low in the back of her throat.

“What’s that fucking noise? Is he going to fucking die?” Roy asks.

“Jesus, Roy, no,” his sister says. “There’s just not much you can do for someone with the flu. Just watch their temperature and make sure they’re getting enough fluids. Warm soup might make them feel a little better, but mostly you just have to wait for it to pass.”

“Well, that’s fucking shit,” he tells her. “Oh, and tell Phoebe I said hi,” he tacks on, before hanging up.

He shuffles into his kitchen and starts setting out the ingredients for a simple chicken soup. Fucking homemade soup for a fucking prick. Fucking unbelievable.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Roy gets waylaid briefly by the fact that he doesn’t have Jamie’s address, but he’s not a fucking quitter (rather, he’s quite a determined individual with enough soup to feed an army), so after a phone call and a promise to Higgins that he isn’t going to use the information to kill the little prick, he’s pulling up to Jamie’s house. It’s fairly modest, as far as homes for professional footballers go, mostly because Jamie could probably afford to have ten houses just like it. Roy’s only sort of expecting a life-size marble statue of the prick sitting in the front yard, but he’s gratified to find that, for the first time in perhaps his entire life, Jamie had gone the sensible route and stayed simple.

Roy marches up to the front stoop with a glass jar of soup tucked under his arm and bangs on the door with the side of his fist, pointedly ignoring the doorbell.

When Jamie fails to come running to the door within thirty seconds, he knocks again, and again, and again, and then finally, he gives in and presses the doorbell hard enough that he hears something inside the mechanism crack.

Roy takes a step back and taps his foot for a couple of seconds. When it becomes clear that Jamie isn’t going to be answering the door anytime soon, Roy begins devising a plan to break in.

He doesn’t have to devise long.

“I bet there’s a spare key under the doormat,” Roy mutters, and yeah, of-fucking-course there is, Jamie’s an idiot, so he picks it up and lets himself in.

Finding the kitchen isn’t difficult, and neither is finding a large pot, so he portions out some of the soup, puts it on the stove to reheat, and then sets off to find Jamie.

After a bit of wandering (and a lot of judging Jamie’s choices for interior design; the sheer amount of animal print is actually obscene), he finds him in an upstairs bedroom, face down in a bed with perhaps the ugliest headboard he’s ever seen in his life. There’s a small trash can next to the bed, piled high with wrinkled tissues, and a half-filled water bottle sitting on the dresser.

Jamie, for his part, is completely knocked out, though he’s very restless, tossing and turning every few seconds like he can’t get comfortable. Roy walks over and pokes him firmly on the forehead.

Jamie blinks up at him blearily. “Roy?” he asks, his voice sounding completely wrecked.

“You sound like shit,” Roy tells him. “Open your mouth.”

Jamie obeys, and Roy sticks a thermometer under his tongue. “Wha’ th’fuh are y’doin here?” Jamie asks around the thermometer.

“Shut the fuck up,” Roy barks. “You’ll fuck up the reading.” He grabs Jamie by the jaw and adjusts the thermometer again until it’s sitting to one side of that weird bump that everyone has under their tongue, just like the really tiny instructions that came in the box had told him to.

A few seconds later, the stupid thing beeps, so Roy slips it out of Jamie’s mouth and nearly passes out at the reading on the screen.

He takes his phone out and dials his sister again. “He is fucking dying,” Roy accuses.

“I am?” Jamie asks, sounding devastated.

“Hello again, Roy,” she sighs. “What’s the problem now?”

“His temperature is 101.7 degrees, which means he’s fucking dying, and you and Lasso promised that he fucking wasn’t but this stupid fucking thermometer says otherwise.”

His sister sighs again, long and low and disappointed. “What mode is it in?”

“Mode?” Roy asks. “Fucking, temperature-taking mode. What the fuck do you mean, mode?”

“No, Roy,” she says, sounding long-suffering. “Is it in degrees Celsius or Fahrenheit?”

Roy examines the screen, squinting his eyes so he can read the tiny text.

Jamie scoffs. “Granddad—”

“Shut the fuck up, Tartt,” Roy barks. “Dying little boys with bad hair don’t get to speak.”

“I don’t even get no last words?” Jamie asks.

“Fuck no,” Roy says. “It’s in Fahrenheit,” he tells his sister.

“Then he’s fine, Roy. He’s running a fever, but that’s normal with the flu.”

“You’re sure,” Roy asks.

“Who’s the one with the medical degree?”

“Fuck off,” he tells her. “Tell Phoebe I said hi,” he adds, before hanging up.

He and Jamie stare at each other for a moment. “I brought soup,” Roy says.

Jamie lights up like a Christmas tree. “Mint,” he says, and flings the duvet off his legs, making like he’s going to get up.

“Stop! I’ll bring it up here.”

Jamie stares up at him, all wide-eyed and pathetic like a kicked dog, so Roy marches downstairs and spoons a small serving into one of Jamie’s least offensive ceramic bowls. He marches back upstairs, only slightly less aggressively than before, so he doesn’t spill any of the soup, and sets the bowl in the cradle of Jamie’s lap.

Jamie dives in on it, foregoing the spoon altogether, sipping straight from the bowl like an animal. He winces at each swallow, probably from a sore throat, but he seems to be enjoying it anyway if his pleased hums are anything to go by.

“Thanks, Coach,” he says, in between gulps.

“Yeah, whatever,” Roy says, secretly relieved now that he’s ninety percent sure the little prick isn’t actually dying.

By the time he finishes the soup, Jamie is heavy-lidded and yawning again, so Roy takes the bowl out of his slackening hands and sets it on the dresser next to the bed. He readjusts the comforter around Jamie, tucking it under his body tightly, and grabs another blanket from the end of the bed when he notices that Jamie is still shivering.

It doesn’t take Jamie long to nod off again. Roy looks at him, studying the steadiness of his chest as it rises with each breath, committing it to memory. He looks soft and young in his sleep, Roy thinks.

A wave of fondness rushes over him suddenly, and Roy chokes on it like acid rising up in his throat.

Honestly— fuck this prick for making Roy care about him.

He takes one last long look at Jamie, smoothing his hair back from his forehead, and leaves the bedroom, clicking the door shut quietly behind him.

[silentalltheseyearsnomore]

Something k said last night really has stuck in my mind.

We were brave and asked her if there is something on our side that could be causing this pattern. We asked her if how we tried to hold her accountable when she was our therapist was done okay, or if it comes across in a harmful way. Because at the time, she threw it back at us and called us abusive and our words harmful. We knew deep down we wrote it all with care, focusing on how her actions made us feel, and constantly saying we understand the cause of her behaviour and still love her anyway. But... it stuck in our head. And now there are patterns. So we asked. Knowing we should not necessarily trust her if she says we are abusive again.

She said we did nothing wrong at all. We never did. It was her, and people who can not take accountability will run away from us exceptionally fast. But that is not us doing something wrong, what we do is the right thing. She said we are incredibly good at holding people accountable, that we are too strong for most people, and they are not ready. They will run. They will not face their shit. She said there is also something about us that makes other people see and feel their own stuff- that when people connect to our energy, they also connect to their own, and that can be scary. We've had a lot of people say this before, and I love/hate it in equal parts. I love that we somehow make people wake up, and I hate that it means they often run away from us.

Then we asked more, to get a sense of how people (therapists mostly, or the few people who know more than just our functioning parts) perceive us... why does this pattern happen? Why are we getting so harmed? So many promises broken? What is our part in it?

First, she talked about how intense it can be, because of the size of our system, the level of trauma, she said "it's like 50 people coming at you at once.. and I don't mean coming at you like you were harmful, but just.. there's so much. I wasn't prepared, I don't think many specialists even are, and they get overwhelmed." She said again that is not our fault. This was disorientating to hear just because our default is always a level of denial. We are always so fucking confused when things like this happen, and to hear her explain it like this on the outside.. it's so confronting. What do you mean? Why would you be overwhelmed if it's not even real?

Secondly she talked about something that happens which she believes is to do with the RAMC. Where she would get sucked in to our denial and avoidance, confusion.. like in to another world, so no "real work" ever really happened. Other dramas between us would be created and she'd always feel like.. how is this happening? She said she almost felt programmed in response. Our longterm therapist before her said the exact same, so this... I mean, it was disorientating and validating and heartbreaking and frustrating all at once. Like it cleared some fog for us. But then just even more unfairness. Like. These are our therapists. They should have not got lost with us. Will anyone ever be able to help us heal? Are we too broken? Can we do therapy "right"?

But, this is what stuck with me most.. she said this is something she's been scared of sharing with me, knowing it would be triggering (for RAMC stuff)...

She talked about this intense dark energy we have all around us. She said nowadays, where she's trained more, more experience with DID, she can understand all the parts stuff, all the theories, all the work she does with other clients. But this dark energy, and how connected to it she is with us, she can not understand and it disturbs her and part of what played in to the shit in our relationship. She said how she dreams about it, still, in detail... and she doesn't understand. We talked around spirituality, and our connection, all the nice magical signs we used to talk about that we've had our whole life before we knew each other, like a sign we were meant to find each other and we both said perhaps her being so connected to our darkness is the other side of that inexplicable connection. She went in to more detail... at one point we went quiet and she was worried she triggered us mentioning religion. Or that we thought she could be part of the abuser group. Which is always gonna be a thing for some parts. Especially if she starts saying shit like religion and exorcism. But it wasn't that. We were just struggling to remember the dark energy isn't US. She reassured us it's not. She said we are the light, that is why we survived, that is why we keep surviving, that is why our heart is so good. We asked if everyone close to us will feel it? We know most people dont.. we get comments on the opposite, on how we have such a calming energy, people use the word "light" for us so often. But do the few who really know us, feel this? Do they see darkness when we walk in a room? She said she can't answer for everyone, but she imagines they may not see darkness, but many will feel overwhelm, and again how that is not our fault, simply the result of what we carry.

She said that she just wants to help get rid of this huge heavy darkness around us. That she's never seen with anyone ever.... ouch. It just feels personal. I know its not. I know it's put on us. But it feels heavy.

At the same time it was validating and uplifting.. to name it. We feel it. We've seen body workers who mention it. And lately this past week, we've intuitively needed to go to large open spaces and lay on the ground and ask the earth to just absorb some of the darkness. It is so fucking heavy. It is like drowning. Hearing her name it felt hurtful but also hopeful.. like.. it's named.. now we can tackle it. We even did a kind of visual somatic thing together and it was wildly wildly powerful. It always is when we do it together. Which aligns to what she says about how she is so connected to our stuff in some weird spiritual level way even when we arent in contact.. the dreams she has.. it's wild and creepy. So when we do these somatic things, she feels it in her body too and we release it together. Which, I know many practitioners do to an extent, they are tuning in to our feelings and can feel what we do in our body sometimes. But with her it's like another level, and we do some kind of magic at times.

I am cautious to listen to her. I know she has been so damaging. But I know myself and know what of hers to listen to and what not, these days. This felt aligned.

I want S. I need S. Child parts especially. I need us to repair. I need it to be okay. She is so much more healing, comforting, secure, consistent, stable.... or was. Until now. Everything in me needs us to work it out and be okay together again. But while we are not, we need something, someone, and K is what we have. I wish wish wish we didnt need anyone. I wish we could just heal ourselves.. I wish when this attachment pain screams we could soothe it completely alone... but I can't. Not yet. I've come so far. So far. And we do soothe each other. We work so hard. And we can handle little triggers, smaller attachment pain, even big attachment pain when there's more than one attachment person in our life. But when this happens? When it seems there is NO ONE? We can't. We just can not. It is too big to soothe alone. And right or wrong we still choose the very questionable attachment figure over none. For now. Carefully.

[transponderisland]

The Complete Guide on Cutting Machines and Effective Car Keys Replacement

Losing or breaking your automobile keys may be really unpleasant. Whether lost or damaged, car key replacement guarantees the security of your vehicle and allows you to get back in. Finding the correct replacement for modern cars—including those from companies like Honda—often depends on their complex keys with electronic chips. Honda Car Key Replacement specifically requires attention to detail and expertise due to the advanced technology embedded in these keys. Key cutting tools that streamline creating exact replicas or new keys have helped this procedure to become more efficient.

How Key Cutting Machines Transform Vehicle Key Replacement

The automobile key replacement business depends critically on key cutting equipment. By following certain patterns, these devices are meant to produce exact key copies or completely new keys. Modern key cutting machines, with their improved technologies, can copy extremely intricate key designs like remote fobs and transponder keys. Their accuracy guarantees that the new key runs perfectly with the locks and ignition of your car, therefore lowering the possibility of mistakes.

Types of Keys Requiring Cutting

There are many kinds of automobile keys, each needing certain cutting methods. While laser-cut keys—known for their distinctive grooves—demand specific equipment, traditional mechanical keys may be cut using hand tools. Often using electronic chips, smart keys and transponder keys need extra programming upon cut. Key cutting machines guarantee compatibility and performance even for the most advanced key types when changing a key for a contemporary car.

How to Select Correct Service for Replacement of Car Keys?

Finding a trustworthy firm for replacement of automobile keys is really important. Look for experts guaranteeing accuracy by using premium key cutting tools. Modern keys’ complexity—including programming transponder chips—can be handled by seasoned locksmiths or approved dealerships. Particularly with complicated key systems, be sure the service provider has the correct tools and knowledge to satisfy your requirements.

Important Cutting Tools and Their Function in Improving Security

Key cutting devices not only help with key duplication but also greatly improve vehicle security. Creating exact keys reduces the possibility of defective copies compromising the locks or ignition of your automobile. Working with professionals that use innovative key cutting equipment guarantees that your new key is dependable and safe for automobile owners seeking replacements.

Car Key Replacement: Cost Considerations

The kind of key, the related technology, and the equipment needed will all affect the cost of automobile key replacement. While transponder keys or smart keys may cost more because of their programming needs, traditional keys are often more reasonably priced to replace. By guaranteeing the new key works flawlessly from the start, investing in services using innovative key cutting tools may save you time and future costs.

Precision’s Value in Essential Cutting

The replacement of the automobile keys depends mostly on precision. Little errors might make a key worthless or compromise the ignition system of your car. Perfect precision made possible by key cutting machines fitted with laser-guided technology guarantees that every key cut is a match. Modern keys with complex designs depend especially on this accuracy.

Conclusion

Thanks to developments in key cutting tools, car key replacement is no more a difficult procedure. These instruments have transformed the way keys are made so that they guarantee accuracy and fit for a variety of cars. Working with experts who use contemporary key cutting equipment ensures dependability and efficiency whether your requirement is for a replacement for a broken key or a duplicate one. See transponderisland.com for all your vehicle key requirements and professional guidance and excellent services.

Visit us :- https://futurecarmakers.com/the-complete-guide-on-cutting-machines-and-effective-car-keys-replacement/

[mariam0309]

Important Plumbing Maintenance Tips for You

ServicePlus - Total Home Warranty Service. As a homeowner, it's very important to maintain your plumbing system well. You need to ensure that the plumbing system is working properly and there are no faulty components that could cause issues later and potentially create problems in your life.

The plumbing system is a complex matter as it involves pipes and appliances. Even though we use the plumbing system for bathing, cooking, laundry, and other tasks, we often don't think much about its maintenance until it malfunctions and disrupts our daily activities.

Reasons why plumbing maintenance is crucial:

If you maintain and care for your plumbing system consistently, you'll be able to keep it in good condition for a longer period. Critical plumbing repairs can indeed be costly unless they're covered by a good home warranty plan. Fortunately, maintaining plumbing isn't a difficult matter, at least when you aim to prevent common problems like leaks, clogs, or broken pipes.

Service Plus Home Warranty Plans Here!

Here we are going to give you some common tips to avoid costly plumbing repairs:

1.     See if there's any leak:

Do you know that even a small leak can waste a lot of water and increase your water bills? That's why making leak checks a regular habit is important for you.

A leaky faucet wastes nearly 8 gallons of water in a day. Toilet leaks can waste almost 200 gallons of water in a day. Appliances like your home's garbage disposal, refrigerator, water heater, and washing machine can also incur damage from leaks, leading to potentially costly repair bills.

If you experience inconsistent water pressure, whether it's too high or too low, the likely cause behind it could be a leak. If you suspect there's a leak but can't pinpoint its exact location, don't delay; have a plumber check it out. Undetected leaks can lead to structural damage, attract pests, and cause dampness in your home.

Home Warranty Companies Here!

2.     Clear slow-moving drains:

Usually, a buildup of soap foam and hair causes your drains to slow down. Before your drains completely clog, you can take some simple steps. It's advisable to remove and clean the stopper every few days. Create a mixture of baking soda and vinegar; it works wonders in cleaning and unclogging slow drains. If that doesn't work, it means there's a blockage within the drain, and for that, it's necessary to seek professional plumbing help.

3. Your toilet is not a trash bin:

Toilets and plumbing systems are meant for human waste. Flushing anything else, even if labeled as flushable, can lead to clogs and harm pipes.

Even materials like facial tissue and paper towels, resembling toilet paper, can create persistent clogs since they don't easily disintegrate upon contact with water. Feminine hygiene products, diapers, wipes, and similar items should be disposed of in a trash can instead.

4.     Monitor What You Put into Your Drainage

Usually, our home's drains are narrow and can quickly get clogged if you don't watch what goes into them. Things like hair, soap, food particles, and grease can clog your drains and prevent water from passing through properly. Flushing excessive toilet paper isn't advisable either as it can also lead to clogs in your home's drains. A great way to avoid clogged drains is to use a good drain cover.

If the plumbing system malfunctions, it doesn't just disrupt your daily activities but repairing it can also be a costly affair. In such cases, a ServicePlus Home Warranty plan can be the best help. Our home warranty plans cover your entire plumbing system at the most reasonable price.

[bolton-buried]

Here's his fucking letter. Word for word. I did not add the end.

Statement of Issac Laplace, regarding brown recluse spiders, his own becoming, and the laws of physics. Statement begins.

I guess this is where you want me to give my grand explanation of why the Mother of Puppets is the most powerful, most frightening of the fears. I will not be doing so.

In the world with the fears, the way reality warps and twists around them can make any of them infinitely powerful. The only place that the Web is the strongest is the real world, when you really look at it.

The laws of physics are unshakable. A marble, flicked across the floor, has no ability to change its movement from the course set for it by basic Newtonian physics. Similarly, when broken down to its bare essentials, the human brain only functions the way physics dictates the chemical reactions and electrical systems do. By knowing the exact position and momentum of every particle in the universe, and applying the physics we know, one would see that every movement is preordained by the rules that govern reality.

I learned about this in my college philosophy classes. It’s terrifying, no? That free will is a delusion of grandeur conjured by a chemical reaction too foolish to understand itself. I thought so too at first.

Then I realized. The universe is a wind up toy, moving only how its gears are set. You can’t fault a gear for doing the only thing it can do. Similarly, a human being can do no wrong, as it can only do what it’s set to do.

I went home that summer with my eyes finally opened to reality as it was. I was lounging on the patio, when a brown recluse spider crawled up my leg. I knew it didn’t matter what I did. The universe knew already. The gears that turn the world already knew if the spider would bite me, or if it wouldn’t. And I couldn’t change that outcome. Not even when it was joined by another. And another. And another.

26 violin spiders bit me at once that day.

I saw in that dream, every particle in the universe at once. I saw them perfect in the way they would move, in the way all of reality would play out. It was beautiful.

But then I saw something else. A terrible stain on the perfection of physics. What I know now as the Fears. And I wanted—I want—them gone.

I don’t know how it will work. It will work, I’m sure of it. But Harry is a piece to be played on the board, and I’ve gotten him there, oh so well.

That’s why I filled that old lady’s shelf with cobwebs to throw those Leitners at him.

Why I showed him the book Choke.

Why I set out that brochure advertising the Bolton Strid.

Desmond was a complication. His being affected by the fears without serving them made his actions difficult to predict. He shouldn’t have been in the way. So, I pushed Harry to the NotThem, that followed them back to London.

Taking your Erika wasn’t on my agenda. The fears are something of a blind spot, without physics governing them. But after you spooked it off, I was able to nudge it in the right direction.

Once the real Desmond was off the chessboard, it was simple to walk Nicholas Bolton to the notthem and dispose of that unnecessary piece.

I didn’t expect Harry to overreact to it so much. Flooding London was one of the last things I wanted to do. It would disrupt everything I was working for. So I pulled in another piece to calm him down. That cassette tape. It worked. You’re welcome.

I did lose track of Nicholas during the storm. The Buried’s grasp spread, and he started chasing it instead of the trail of spiders that I had been keeping him on. The dog is. A development. But what has happened was always going to, so it’s not one I have feelings on.

There’s just one piece left. Getting Dez back. That’s got your interest, hasn’t it? I have one thing left to tell you.

Statement 0240818-C.

I’m probably dead by the time you read this. That’s fine. It was always meant to be that way. Goodbye, Harry. My angel. Not the same way you were back in college, but in the proper way. You’ll be one of the fourteen hosts to herald in my perfect world.

And I, for one, can’t wait for it to happen.

Statement ends. XO

[the-firebird69]

This car is a McLaren 570 GT has top speed of 280 mph. In the top you can see an actual fire and it's not good this would be a four seater it would be a kit car. The rear window we would change and it would not open like this. We would make it open to the whole thing but the top would be less window. You have to see out the back so there's like a view window and there's a special louver and there's no window below the louver and it's to prevent it from getting broken and the window on there is going to be special and we will redesign it of course I have some features and make a little little cooler. But this looks very nice even though the front engine mostly at first we would have the rear engine features and it would look like an awesome car from behind and the front and we will have a fairing it will look similar. But it won't continue to wrap around it and we don't like that look or style. And it won't be an exact copy even though this is our son and daughter is rightful company and we're going to start going after things like that. They're going to spearhead it for real and people want them to.

We are also going to redesign the way that this is built we don't like how they build these we're not going to build the same way at all and we're not copying this car it's this size and the front end is similar to what we need to make it to be and the rear end looks cool and we'll have to show you what we're thinking about is regards to this particular vehicle and we don't think making it rounded in the back because it's smaller is a good idea this is not a baby puppy car it's going to be a special car and we want to start it that way because he feels that these days people will buy it even though it looks like a supercar that's probably true and they can get a Nissan anywhere and yeah that's a pain in the ass and he's right you want to turn your four door compact car into this and we won't be a McLaren but it's kind of close it is their car. And we'd like them to come after us and here's the secret formula to actually get us to work with our people they know about it and they talked about it today and last week and are helping us and of course he believes it until she wasn't thinking of doing this with boys he thought about a little bit but we kept telling them we can do it they were saying we probably should it's a Bible system and they go after each other and these days people are using Force to stop each other so that's what we're going to do I'm going to stop them not each other with Force and this is a great idea this particular car and his son the same the Dodge neon and he meant to light it up too but really this is the greatest idea I've ever seen and he says it's not that great it's just to try and fit the front engine in and to try and have a cool looking car and one that everybody can afford and it's true too there's a bunch of factors they can't have a really large supercar and I can't have like a huge name like Vader where your son does it and Hera is that you take the corner in as a sort of changing a little and they did that with Ferrari and Ferrari still has some of the original people skulking around in the shadows some Max and some Italians even us and father would do it yeah he came up with a design it was for a kit car but it was not the fiero is there a different chassis and it looked like a Ferrari and it sounded like one it was very fast and he called it Last Ferrari and it'll spell the little different and they said that's not good enough so they went after it and we know about it and we know what they do and what they use and how much for us and it is a bit much okay this is going to be hot but he says he wants a chicken in every pot of every person that buys one of these of ours and he has several names that sound like McLaren and that particular name is fictitious it's one of our sons fake names and his name will come out and that that's who he is and she does have fake names too and his name is also wolvesbain and we do accept that it's true. So he wants to do this weird corporation thing he always wants to do it and then like only specialize in one thing maybe we might do it that way there's a few names that she wants to name it so we're going to hear what those are.

"O'Shaughnessy" and it says it's a crane company with an o and she says oh yeah it might be a bit like shaughnessy but okay and she's laughing

"O'Leary" and that's a real name and she says the name you want to use this real and he says no way and it really is that's why she's saying it so we're going to check it out but this would be made out of the plastic carbon fiber it's really easy to make it molds in seconds and comes out he wonders if you can put a color code in the color coat and you'd have to mix the color into the plastic so you take the gel down and need repair the damage and you fill it in with the color-coded plastic mix and sand it lightly until it and it will come out easier so we want to try and do that too but it would also have an integral frame it'll be a drop on and simpler to build then the Vader because the frame would be already attached to the body and the smaller this car is about 12 ft long and 7 ft wide at least we're going to make it wider cuz it looks cooler and you can get a box almost 8 ft wide around it and 13 ft long with all the stuff in it and that makes it cheaper cuz you can stack them inside a container probably three high and four long or three long it is about three long and there's some boxes that go with it and you just drive around with a semi and you drop it off and we know how to do that it's a special semi but it's a normal size you can also drop shipping containers at the dealership and just pick them up when they're empty and you can have dealerships he says will you drop your car off and they put the kit on or they are you you come by and pick up the kid and we we want to do that and so we want partners on this just remember that McLaren is there a company and it was doing very well with Brad and he lost it to Trump and implemented so Brad might want to do this and we have a certain amount ownership and we get materials and stuff there without too much trouble everybody else is having a problem and you have it for your own clan at first that's fine. He's looking forward to defeating you on the muscle bound stage. Not so much fake wrestling we have enough of that he says. And he's smiling cuz he wants to do it. And it says you thought it was her and off and on you guys thinking and I'll tell you what even me and I have a lot of power and important but they really were focusing on it and they're doing that for the future and he laughed so that's not funny and your mama is not your mama just a FYI and I know your mom so she was my sister now he's laughing and saying but really she's your auntie so you're like a lower level guy and Ellie says watch your mouth buddy and it's true. So gross but here we go

Thor Freya

Olympus again

I want this car to succeed in this idea and you probably can't start it now but no we can start ourselves and have other people pick it up and I like the idea of drawing the mattis and it's probably going to be Trump and Brad can wait until the smoke clears cuz we need him to open the shops and he gets it it's going to be awesome he says and really he'll have some and he'll figure out these trumps will go after like maniacs and ruining cuz they're so aggressive we hate them they're so dumb you can see it in that movie fiorina fiorina fury in a whatever the hell you save

Hera

Furioso maybe no Serena whatever Sherry says

[yeonchi]

Doctor Who Series 14 Recap Review

Following the 60th Anniversary Specials, I said I would be stepping back from making reviews, though I would still be open to giving some quick recaps and thoughts about each episode. Even though it's officially known as Season 1, I'll continue the series numbering from the 2005 reboot, meaning that this will be Series 14 for me. Spoilers begin after the break.

2023 Christmas Special: The Church on Ruby Road

The Doctor meets Ruby Sunday and begins to realise that she is the target of shenanigans by the Goblins, who travel through time and kidnap babies. After meeting Ruby's family, the Doctor suddenly finds her erased from time as she was kidnapped by the Goblins as a baby, so the Doctor goes back and saves Ruby, destroying their ship in the process.

The special was cringe, to say the least. I shared some thoughts about it in my 2023 In Review post, but personally, I don't think musical numbers fit the tone of the show.

The episode also features the debut of Ruby's neighbour, Mrs Flood, who apparently knows what the TARDIS is at the end.

Episode 1: Space Babies

After Ruby steps on a butterfly and the Doctor revives it to turn her back from some alien being (time does not work that way btw), they visit a space station run by (6-year-old) babies and managed by a Nan-E system run by an accountant who stayed behind when the rest of the crew left due to a recession.

The ship is haunted by a Bogeyman which turns out to be a creature created by the ship as a story villain using the snot (bogeys) of the babies. The Bogeyman is the misunderstood villain of the episode and at the end, the babies recognise the Bogeyman as one of them too, with the Doctor saving it from being sucked out of the airlock because Bogeyman Lives Matter (and it didn't make him go blind unlike that other time). While the space station couldn't fly anywhere as it wasn't meant for that purpose, the Doctor finds a way to get them asylum on another planet by using the babies' used nappies as fuel.

Yeah, this is another cringe episode. I thought The Message was going to be an abortion allegory but it was more an allegory on refugees, which is understandable. Also, from this episode, the opening titles were slightly modified to include an extra sequence of the TARDIS flying into the Time Vortex, making it look less jumpy.

Episode 2: The Devil's Chord

The Doctor and Ruby travel to London in the 1960s to meet the Beatles at Abbey Road Studios. When they get there, they find that the songs being recorded are tone-deaf and boring, which extends to Cilla Black and an orchestra. They soon find out that this is the work of the Maestro, a child of the Toymaker, who has consumed all music in the world and caused a nuclear winter back in Ruby's time (speaking of which, how could 6 months have passed in the space of two back-to-back adventures after the Christmas Special?).

The Doctor discovers that just as the Maestro was released by someone finding the Devil's Chord, they could be sealed if he finds the Notes of Banishment. The Doctor does so, but he gets the final note wrong, leading the Maestro to whip the piano out of the room, where it is found by John and Paul, who manage to discover the final note and reseal the Maestro, bringing music back to the world.

I'm not a big fan of the Maestro as a villain because they seem like an exaggerated caricature of Bowlestrek. Same goes for the musical number at the end - I'll admit that the song is catchy, but again, this isn't a Disney production.

Interestingly, the Doctor mentions how the bi-generation literally tore his soul in half and he can't survive another one (at least not at this stage anyway). Again, this just adds more questions to the exact nature of bi-generation, like shouldn't the Doctor be broken by now if each of his previous regenerations became bi-generations?

Also, Ruby is revealed to have a hidden song deep inside her soul and that she has the ability to summon snow out of nowhere. According to the Maestro, this is the work of "the Oldest One", but at this stage, their connection to "the One Who Waits" is unknown.

Episode 3: Boom

The Doctor lands in a Church warzone on Kastorian 3 and steps on a Villengard smartmine. When Ruby tosses the Doctor something to help him counterbalance and change position, he discovers that it is actually a dead soldier's body, killed after an ambulance deemed the soldier's blindness to be fatal (or rather, a liability). The dead soldier's daughter, Splice, runs onto the battlefield to find her father, leading another soldier, Mundy, to go after her. Mundy's love interest, Canterbury, sees Ruby about to shoot Mundy (in an attempt to get the ambulance to turn on her) and shoots Ruby in turn.

Over the course of the story, we learn that the Church's enemy, the Kastorians, don't actually exist; the Church advertised their presence on the planet, which triggered the Villengard algorithm in their weapons and without an enemy to fight, the ambulances began killing the Church soldiers to maintain "the acceptable casualty rate".

With minutes left and the Doctor connected to Ruby through the ambulance, he has the dead soldier's AI hack into the ambulance to find proof that the planet is uninhabited. Despite Canterbury being killed in the process, the dead soldier's AI is successful, reviving Ruby and disarming the smartmine the Doctor was standing on.

This episode was written by Steven Moffat, who will also be writing the Christmas Special (instead of RTD for the first time in New Who history) before stepping down for Series 15, because such comebacks after saying "I'm done for good" totally haven't happened in this show before. Also, Mundy's actress, Verada Sethu, has also been cast as a new companion for Series 15.

The episode was better than the first two episodes of this series, but it got ridiculous for me when it was revealed that the Church were fighting nothing and the Doctor says that they didn't see it because they had faith, "the magic word that keeps you never having to think for yourself". Splice was annoying as well; she was all "I want my daddy" even though she should know she was in a warzone.

Episode 4: 73 Yards

Due to Ncuti Gatwa's prior commitments to filming Sex Education in late-2022, this episode was the first to be filmed in the series as a Doctor-lite episode.

Landing in the Welsh coastal ranges, the Doctor accidentally steps into a fairy circle, apparently binding the soul of someone named Mad Jack, and disappears for the rest of the episode. Ruby finds herself being stalked by a woman who is always 73 yards away (which is the furthest that you can just make out someone) and gesturing at her.

Ruby can't go towards the woman because she will always be 73 yards away from her, so she has to ask other people to find out what the woman is trying to say. When they do, they run off in horror because they found out that in a past life, she was Chris-chan or Lincoln Loud or some fictional character in Rule 34 fanarts. This happens to a few people Ruby meets, followed by her adoptive mother, Carla (did I mention she only fosters kids for the money?) and even Kate Stewart (man, it's like she heard about JaviSuzumiya just from looking at the woman lmao). OK, the excuse the episode gives is always "Ask her" (and the Doctor Who Unleashed episode says something different with the gestures), but this is my headcanon and I stand by it.

Time goes on and Ruby finds out that Mad Jack has apparently resurfaced as Roger ap Gwilliam, who the Doctor previously mentioned as "the most dangerous Prime Minister in history". She makes it her mission to thwart Roger ap Gwilliam and prevent another Years and Years by joining his election campaign, with his main policy being to obtain nuclear weapons to defend Britain's borders (though it probably would have been better to look at who already made it through if you ask me).

Roger ap Gwilliam wins the election, much to the horror of some chick named Marti. As they prepare for his victory speech, Ruby apologises to Marti for taking so long before going onto the pitch and standing 73 yards away from Roger. Despite the perception filter, Roger sees the woman, learns of Ruby being a motherfucker in a past life and runs off, resigning as Prime Minister soon after.

Ruby's life continues on and on her deathbed, she finds the woman coming closer and closer to her. She is suddenly brought back to the day the Doctor disappeared and manages to warn her past self to tell the Doctor not to step in the fairy circle, thus averting the ridiculous chain of events that followed.

Aside from the 73 yards thing with the woman, this episode is a leftist fantasy akin to the Jack Robertson episodes of the Chibnall era. That scene where Ruby was trying to stand 73 yards away from Roger? Yeah, in real life those soldiers would probably have shot Ruby when she ran onto the grass. If that's what counts for activism these days I'm surprised more people aren't getting killed than owned by facts and logic.

RTD implies that Roger ap Gwilliam is inspired by "terrible young men online". Yeah, as soon as I heard that, I knew Roger was an Andrew Tate expy, but because of how vague everything was, it didn't feel like Roger's actor (Aneurin Barnard) was really channelling Tate in character. He can't be a Donald Trump/Boris Johnson expy because those spots have been taken, he can't be a Ben Shapiro expy because many leftists want to cuckold him for some reason and he can't be a Jordan Peterson expy because Peterson isn't extreme compared to Andrew Tate. Honestly, if RTD's intention was to rip off his previous series Years and Years for a plot point then he should have just said it. And to think that this episode was what RTD claimed to be one of the greatest things he's ever worked on.

Episode 5: Dot and Bubble

In the same production block as the last episode, this episode is another Doctor-lite episode, but not really. It's really an episode that focuses on a guest character akin to Love and Monsters in Series 2 or Blink in Series 3.

We follow a woman named Lindy Pepper-Bean, a resident on the NWO world known as Finetime where everyone relies on their social media Dot and Bubble for their daily lives, including how to walk. In the middle of her complaining about her two-hour-a-day job processing substack data, Lindy notices that her friends are slowly disappearing and the Doctor and Ruby manage to convince her that there are slug monsters around her eating people, but others are somehow being spared.

The Doctor tells Lindy to get to a conduit so they can get to the river leading out of a city. On the way, she meets singer (read: lipsyncer) Ricky September who helps Lindy to the conduit. The Doctor has Ricky enter the pulse codes before deducing that the residents are being eaten in alphabetical order. Also, the Doctor believes that the slug monsters were created by the Dot and if they can't kill anyone, the Dot itself will. Lindy's name is up and Ricky fends off her Dot while she finishes entering the numbers. As Lindy unlocks the door to the conduit, she throws Ricky under the bus before she goes through.

At the conduit, Lindy reunites with one of her surviving friends and also meets the Doctor and Ruby. With help from the Homeworld seemingly delayed (in actuality, not coming at all due to the Homeworld being overrun by slug monsters), the remaining residents decide to venture into the forests around the city. The Doctor offers to help them off this world because they will die on the outside, but they refuse, much to the Doctor's disbelief.

So you want to know what the Message of this episode was? It's the New World Order, social media, rich kids or a combination of the above. Oh, I'm sorry, according to RTD on Unleashed, it's rich white kids, because it's not enough that it's got to be kids addicted to social media, but their parents are rich, no less, and we've got to sprinkle in some of that racism too because current year. Not calling this a "shut up RTD" moment, but was it necessary and did it (the entire episode) need to be this exaggerated?

I'm sorry, but this episode just felt patronising to me. "But Azuma, you missed the point of the episode!" Oh no, I got the point. I just don't fucking care.

By the way, I'm sure you will have noticed an actress named Susan Twist playing a bit character in every episode of this series so far, including Mrs Merridew at the start of Wild Blue Yonder. Obviously, like Mrs Flood, she will be playing a role in this series' story arc.

Episode 6: Rogue

Doctor Who meets Bridgerton in this episode. The Doctor and Ruby go to a Regency dance ball when he encounters Rogue, a bounty hunter who is after a Chuldur, who can shapeshift into other humans by electrifying them. And yet other shapeshifting creatures have been able to do this quicker and easier than they have.

Rogue thinks that the Doctor is the Chuldur, but is convinced otherwise when he reveals his numerous incarnations, including that of the Fugitive Doctor- wait, that face after William Hartnell wasn't Christopher Eccleston, was it? No, apparently that is Richard E. Grant, who played an incarnation of the Doctor in the animated series Scream of the Shalka, which RTD swept aside when he was brought on to revive Doctor Who. Yeah, I knew this would happen when Chibnall obliterated Doctor Who canon in 2020 and RTD made it worse in 2023. Honestly I'm surprised they didn't include the other faces from The Brain of Morbius and The Timeless Children in that montage as well.

As the situation progresses, the Doctor realises that the Chuldur are cosplaying Bridgerton and reenacting the drama. He decides to introduce a scandal by dancing with Rogue in front of the guests, then starting an argument with him and rejecting his proposal for marriage. They lure the Chuldur outside, but it becomes clear that they aren't dealing with one, but four, later five.

The Doctor sees Ruby with the Chuldur and believes that they got her as well, leading to him being distraught at the fear of breaking the promise he made with Ruby's mum to keep her safe. However, when the Doctor sets up Rogue's triform trap, it is revealed that Ruby knocked out the fifth Chuldur and cosplayed as it, much to the Doctor's shock.

Rogue comes in and brings the fifth Chuldur into the trap. The Doctor begins to struggle whether he should sacrifice Ruby or release the Chuldur. Then Rogue kisses the Doctor before he takes the trigger, bumps Ruby out of the trap and activates it, telling the Doctor to find him. And I thought this would lead into next week's episode, but anyway, the Doctor sends Rogue's ship into orbit and puts his ring on his hand.

The episode was honestly quite great if you can get around the gay overtone-laden whirlwind romance and the continual doubling-down of the Timeless Child. How is it that the more decent episodes of this series aren't written by the showrunner? Gee, it's almost like you can write a good story without having to force in The Message so unsubtly or making it so cringeworthily cheesy.

So in the Unleashed episode, they only mention that Indira Varma, who played the Duchess Chuldur in this episode, was in Mission: Impossible and Game of Thrones, yet they didn't mention that she was in Torchwood previously as Suzie Costello. Nor did they mention back in Episode 4, 73 Miles, that the location used for the pub in that episode was the same one used in an episode of Torchwood Series 1. Speaking of which, some people are also saying that Rogue is reminiscent of Captain Jack Harness or that he is a replacement for him. Look, regardless of what you feel about the John Barrowman scandal, I think that Rogue is merely a surrogate/counterpart for Captain Jack and that the original character isn't being erased (as far as I know).

Episode 7: The Legend of Ruby Sunday

The Doctor and Ruby go to UNIT for help investigating the mystery of the Susan Twist bit characters appearing throughout their journey. As it turns out, UNIT have been investigating Susan Triad, an IT genius who is about to release her software free to the public; the name of her company is an anagram of TARDIS and Susan also happens to be the name of the Doctor's granddaughter.

While there, the Doctor also intends on solving another mystery as well, namely the mystery of Ruby's birth mother. Ruby is sent back to her house with Rose Noble to get the tape showing CCTV footage of a camera 66 metres (73 yards) away from the church on Ruby Road on Christmas Eve 2004. Ruby's mum Carla goes with Ruby and Rose to UNIT HQ, leaving Mrs Flood to look after Cherry, who warns her about a storm coming in and "he waits no more".

The Doctor reunites with Mel, who had been undercover with Susan Triad, as Ruby and Rose return with Carla and the tape. UNIT makes use of a Time Window to enhance the tape and project the scene around the Doctor and Ruby. As Ruby tells the Doctor about her birth, it begins snowing inside even before the Time Window is turned on. The Time Window is then turned on and in the scene projected around them, they are only able to make out the woman leaving Ruby at the church and walking away, but not her face. They then see the Doctor arriving in 2004 to defeat the goblins and the changed memory of the woman pointing at the Doctor.

A soldier guarding the Time Window takes a look behind the TARDIS in the footage but he doesn't see anything. He tries a different angle and the soldier disappears behind the TARDIS. After the Doctor in 2004 leaves in the TARDIS, a dark cloud emerges inside the Time Window and it is revealed that the soldier was killed. The soldier's voice inside the cloud says that "it's been waiting for so long" before the Time Window powers down.

The Doctor decides to see Susan Triad and Mel takes him to see her just as she is about to give her speech to the world. The Doctor asks Susan if they met before, which she denies, but she does mention having dreams. The Doctor presses Susan on who she dreams about and she appears to remember them. Meanwhile, UNIT discovers that the TARDIS somehow returned to 2004 and became enveloped in the dark cloud.

Susan begins her speech while Carla and other non-essential personnel are evacuated. The Doctor sends Ruby back to the Time Window and it begins to show Christmas Eve 2004 again with the woman coming towards her. Susan and Harriet are revealed to be harbingers of a certain god as the dark cloud reveals itself as Sutekh, the god of death.

Sutekh was originally featured in the Fourth Doctor story Pyramids of Mars and is also a part of the Pantheon of Discord as the Oldest One or as it is revealed, The One Who Waits. Other members of the Pantheon mentioned include the Toymaker, Maestro, the Trickster and the Mara, the latter two being villains previously seen in the franchise.

People thought that Susan Foreman would be returning because of all the Susan Twist stuff and the mention of Susan Foreman in the second episode, but honestly, I'm glad it was a red herring because it would have been disgraceful to her character and her actress, Carole Ann Ford, if she reappeared with a new actress without the original making an appearance in the revived/rebooted series considering that Ford is still living. If she got a Fourteenth Doctor treatment and regenerated after a few special appearances, then that would be fine.

Episode 8: Empire of Death

Sutekh and his harbingers spread the dust of death all over London as the Doctor and Mel rush back to the Time Window at UNIT HQ. As they reunite with Ruby, they discover that the TARDIS in the memory, the memory TARDIS, can be used to escape since Sutekh now has control of the TARDIS.

Sutekh confronts the Doctor and reveals that after his defeat at the end of Pyramids of Mars where he was cast to the Time Vortex, he managed to cling onto the TARDIS and everywhere the Doctor landed, he used the memories of Susan Foreman within the TARDIS to create multiple copies of Susan Triad, which is spreading the dust of death everywhere in space and time. As the Doctor landed on (present-day) Earth hundreds of times, the Susan copy there ended up being reborn stronger and stronger until Susan Triad came to their attention.

The Doctor, Ruby and Mel escape in the memory TARDIS with the screen from the TV used in the Time Window. After the Doctor gets a metal spoon from some planet, he wonders why Sutekh decided to attack now rather than earlier. Ruby asks a question and the Time Window screen changes from Pyramids of Mars to the scene of Ruby's mother pointing at the Doctor on Ruby Road. For some reason, Ruby's mother was something beyond Sutekh's comprehension that even he couldn't see, which is why he kept the Doctor, Ruby and Mel alive.

Suddenly, the screen shows an interview with Roger ap Gwilliam, someone who Ruby didn't meet in this timeline. The Doctor realises that in 2046, Roger ap Gwilliam mandated DNA testing for the entire population of the UK (something that freedom cookers supposedly wouldn't like from a supposedly far-right politician, lol leftist projection much?), so Ruby's mother would have to be in the database. They head to the future after Roger ap Gwilliam was overthrown (yeah, if it happened in 2046, the year when he was elected Prime Minister, there probably wouldn't have been a DNA database at all lol).

The Doctor and Ruby use the DNA database to find Ruby's mother, but the latter doesn't understand what it means. It is then revealed that Mel was killed and possessed by Sutekh as she brings the Doctor and Ruby back to 2024. Ruby offers to reveal her mother's name to Sutekh, but she drops the Time Window screen and leashes Sutekh as the Doctor purges Harriet from within the TARDIS while bringing it to him.

Sutekh is dragged into the Time Vortex; because he had been in the Time Vortex before, bringing him in a second time undoes everything he did and brings everyone back to life. Once this is done, the Doctor concedes victory to Sutekh for allowing him to bring death to death before closing the door on Sutekh, who disintegrates in the Time Vortex.

Susan Triad, who is still alive after Sutekh's defeat, is offered a job at UNIT. The DNA testing finishes on the UNIT computers and Ruby's mother is revealed to be a wonderful, yet ordinary woman. Her pointing at the Doctor was actually her pointing at the signpost saying Ruby Road to name her baby (because the social workers or paramedics couldn't have done that based on where she was left, plus it wasn't like her mum left a note with her name on it). This is what Ruby doesn't understand; how could she have remained invisible to the Doctor, Ruby and most importantly, Sutekh? After reading the /r/gallifrey discussion post for this episode, I thought this was RTD2 pulling a Shirakura 2.0, but if you think about it, maybe the TARDIS psychically tied itself to Ruby's memories because of how she wanted to find her mum and when the Doctor went to the church on Ruby Road to save Ruby from the goblins, Ruby's mum ended up in the 73-yard effect radius of the TARDIS perception filter and it scrambled things for everyone, even Sutekh. It still doesn't explain the snow randomly falling, though, or the song apparently hidden in Ruby's soul, so yeah, RTD2 is still pulling a Shirakura 2.0.

The Doctor helps Ruby reunite with her birth mother before they go back to meet Carla and Cherry. Ruby is about to rejoin the Doctor, but she declines when she hears that her father has been found, so they part ways for the time being. Mrs Flood teases that while Ruby got her happy ending, the Doctor's will end in "absolute terror".

The finale was alright, even if the mysteries didn't end up being solved in a satisfying manner or plot holes begin showing up when you start thinking deeply about it, in which case, yeah, it was bad. If Sutekh was The One Who Waits, then who was the Meep's boss as mentioned in The Star Beast? If Sutekh was clinging onto the TARDIS all this time, then what happened to him when the TARDIS blew up or when the TARDIS got bigenerated? And finally, what was with the Doctor writing off the Egyptian imagery in Pyramids of Mars as "cultural appropriation"? Sutekh was based off the Egyptian god and in the original story, he was written as an alien of the Osiran race and- oh wait.

So yeah, save for some good moments of tension, action or nostalgia scattered throughout the series, Series 14 ended up being rather cringeworthy; if I had lowered my standards and judged the series on a first-watch basis, I would have said that it was just below average, not that good but still fairly watchable. RTD's clearly taken a page from Shinichiro Shirakura's book of not caring about the consistency of continuity or the quality of writing on the series he produces, then turning around to make people point and laugh at those who care. Basically, RTD's running on Zi-O Rule 3, just like every Doctor Who writer since The Timeless Children, and if you know anything about Japanese tokusatsu, you'll understand why I liken RTD as the Shinichiro Shirakura of Doctor Who (after Chris Chibnall).

People seemed to criticise the Fifteenth Doctor crying in nearly every episode. Initially, I thought it was weird that the Doctor got emotional given that the bigeneration was meant as a sort of rehab for him. After looking into this however, I realised that maybe that was exactly what the bigeneration was meant to do - to enable the Doctor to express his emotions more, to tell him that it's okay to cry (not that the Doctor hasn't cried or expressed emotions before). Doesn't make the bigeneration any less a bad idea, particularly with the way it was executed though.

Back in October 2021, just after RTD announced his return as showrunner, I put out a list of hopes for the series going forward in the prelude to my Series 13 (Flux) reviews. Let's take a look at how many came true:

Put the series back on Saturdays - Not only that, episodes are released on BBC iPlayer and Disney+ at midnight UK time, meaning that US audiences can watch it on the Friday afternoon/evening and that Australian audiences can watch it at 9:00 AM on the Saturday morning (thank you, British Summer Time). If I were doing full reviews like before I could honestly have dedicated my weekends to them instead of having to juggle it with work.

Give the series a regular schedule - RTD said that he would have a script that would go to air in May 2025, plus Series 15 concluded filming this past May, so if this series is anything to go by, we should expect the next series to come out the same time next year. RTD also has plans for two more series after that, but the BBC haven't commissioned those yet. Honestly, as much as I hated waiting another two years for a new series, the waiting time has given the production team headroom to work on series in advance so that we can get regularity back in the Doctor Who schedule, so I'm happy either way.

Make each series 13 episodes again without breaks - Yeah, that's not looking likely at this point. RTD's stated the stresses he was suffering through when the series returned with series of 13 episodes apiece, plus Moffat's definitely had similar stresses as well. Even after retiring from my personal project, which had episodes that were 45 minutes long (times 13 for a weekly series and 60 for a nightly series), I decided that I would be better off writing half-hour plots, which I should have considered in the first place, but no, I had to implement tokusatsu techniques in a Doctor Who-style series and make it in the scale of a nightly Chinese drama. Speaking of episode lengths, how long is each episode supposed to be, 45 or 50 minutes? I'm fine with having less episodes and having slightly longer episodes to make up for it (longer series finales are tradition for this series), but can you make up your minds over how long the episodes should be? I didn't mention this back during the 60th Anniversary Specials, but the second one, Wild Blue Yonder, came out 6 minutes short of the expected 60-minute length.

Bring back the Christmas Special - That's a no-brainer.

Return to filming in the 16:9 widescreen ratio - Yeah, more and more series and movies seem to be embracing this aspect ratio nowadays. Not that I'm focusing on it too much given how I tend to have my media player on one side of my screen.

And by the way, RTD isn't the only person who needs to know their place in the fanbase, because before the series premiered, Ncuti Gatwa told haters to "touch grass". I swear, he doesn't even know who his haters are or aren't. Also, are we going to see Daleks this year? I guess Terry Nation's estate isn't getting their royalties now. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if RTD's calling their bluff or the estate doesn't care anymore.

So that's it for my look at Doctor Who Series 14. I hope you enjoyed this new review format instead of the full episode-by-episode format from earlier reviews. It's definitely alleviated quite a bit of stress and helped me manage my creative burnout. I'll be talking briefly about this year's Christmas Special in my Year in Review post, then I'll probably do another "quick" review post like this next year for Series 15. But for now, that's it from me.

[yorkshireword]

“WHEN DISCONTENT WITH MUSEUMS is strong enough to provoke the attempt to exhibit paintings in their original surroundings or in ones similar, in baroque or rococo castles, for instance, the result is even more distressing than when the works are wrenched from their original surroundings and then brought together.” This is Theodor Adorno in his great essay “Valéry Proust Museum,” first published in German in 1955, a moment of reckoning and reconstruction. Though Adorno doesn’t specify why the attempt to return and repatriate is more upsetting than the original rift and reassembling of modernity, it is clear that we are in a similar moment of discontent again today—and that we, too, must consider our desires and the effects they might produce.

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JANUS DOE

THE POLITICS OF CARE

In May this past year, the director of Florence’s Uffizi, Eike Schmidt, announced a proposal to return a number of the museum’s religious paintings to churches (if not to the exact ones the paintings came from, then at least to similarly Christian places of worship). At first glance, this seemed like a not-terrible idea; after all, I have seen Caravaggio’s Inspiration of Saint Matthew, 1602, tucked into its nook in San Luigi dei Francesi in Rome and felt that awed feeling of witnessing a thing where it was meant to be seen, in situ. Schmidt had apparently absorbed all the postmodern lessons of site specificity, about what is lost when something is picked, pried, or stolen from its original context. (“To remove the work is to destroy the work,” I could almost hear Richard Serra say.) But as I thought more about his proposal, the deep anti-modernism of the gesture struck me: The idea, after all, is not simply to relocate the paintings but to change their natures, transforming them from secular things worthy of contemplation into devotional images deserving of worship. Even if Schmidt is somehow historically right—in other words, even if he is being faithful to how artists intended their work to be seen—he is nevertheless revoking the experience of modernity that has descended upon these paintings.

When a painting was taken off the wall of the church and brought into the gallery of the museum, we were asked to look at it differently than the artist intended. Broken out of its original lifeworld and turned into a fragment (this is the original crime Adorno speaks of), the artwork became secular, a relic of another time and place, patched together with relics from other times and places. (“It would be an act of madness to enter a museum, kneel down before a painting of the virgin to pray for a soldier missing in battle, lighting a candle and leaving an offering on the floor near the picture before leaving,” Philip Fisher noted in 1975.) It is lost and adrift, yes, but it is also transformed, and here we find the other edge of the sword: One begins to draw connections the artist never imagined. That is the quixotic, heady power of the museum, the birth of which, one might go so far as to say, demands the death of the author. No works made before 1860 were meant to be contemplated in quite the same way—as Foucault reminds us, Manet was the first painter to imagine his paintings in the museum—but nothing that goes into it can resist its power. In this sense the museum is akin to the commodity system, another modern invention: Artworks confront all other artworks within its space. Inside, they change orientation, speak differently, take on new lives, assume new values. The viewer is charged with wondering about their potential, purchase, and power.

To describe the Uffizi plan as anti-secular and anti-modern is not to say that every repatriation shares these characteristics. In general, stolen things should be given back, and the past few years have seen many struggles for restitution that are undeniably just. In 2018, scholars Felwine Sarr and Bénédicte Savoy of the Collège de France released a brilliant report, commissioned by President Emmanuel Macron, urging the return of plundered African objects to their native lands: “African cultural heritage can no longer remain a prisoner of European Museums,” Macron’s Twitter account proclaimed. It is hard to argue against this move even if the proposed return is to some extent symbolic, and one might ask if European museums are not also attempting to divest themselves of a troubling colonial history: While France is much less likely to give back all the resources it plundered over the longue durée of colonialism, the return of objects might still pave the way for other forms of remuneration and justice; in their report, Sarr and Savoy note that restitution opens the “question of building bridges for future equitable relations.”

Importantly, they are just as invested in the experience of confronting the objects themselves. As Sarr and Savoy put it, “To fall under the spell of an object, to be touched by it, moved emotionally by a piece of art in a museum, brought to tears of joy, to admire its forms of ingenuity, to like the artworks’ colors, to take a photo of it, to let oneself be transformed by it: All these experiences—which are also forms of access to knowledge—cannot simply be reserved to the inheritors of an asymmetrical history, to the benefactors of an excess of privilege and mobility.” If repatriated objects are unlikely to return to their original contexts, Sarr and Savoy insist, they must be displayed in necessarily “unoriginal” ways—in other words, in a museum.

The museum reveals the artwork’s potential precisely by negating it.

A LOT HAS CHANGED in the past forty or so years. If the postmodernism of the 1980s considered the museum to be in crisis and contemplated its “ruins,” today many see these same institutions as frustratingly intact, as bulwarks against change, citadels to be stormed. (Even ten years ago, the Left’s critique of museums was simply that they had transformed from civic sites to experiential fun houses. “The late-capitalist museum” was understood to be a space of spectacle, not BlackRock lucre.) Where an earlier generation of artists associated with institutional critique pointed to the museum’s genetic incoherence, as well as to the incursion of corporate interests, today the museum itself stands as a purveyor of systemic and symbolic violence. “The very foundation of the museum is carceral and colonial, and thus ableist,” artist Carolyn Lazard claimed in a recent interview. “Once we abandon the solidity of the museums’ justifications for existing, we might be able to invent new forms and new models of making.”

Lazard is not alone in their thinking, but plans of attack have taken different approaches. In a recent exhibition detailing the role of slavery in the British empire and its afterlife in institutions of contemporary art, artist Cameron Rowland mortgaged the mahogany doors and handrails at the Institute of Contemporary Arts, London, installed by the extravagant George IV—thus making a strike against the host institution, while at the same time acknowledging, by staging the exhibition, that the artist is bound to it. (Even as the institution’s hardware remains intact, its value is drained—the site becomes indebted.) And many others, artists and art workers alike, have occupied the museum in similar ways, sometimes to drain it but just as often to reenergize it. One of the most affirming aspects of the protests against Warren Kanders’s trusteeship of New York’s Whitney Museum of American Art, which sprang up around the 2019 Biennial, was how many people claimed the institution as their own and insisted that their voices be heard there too. While the ultimately successful campaign to oust Kanders from the board neither erased his tear gas from the world nor purified the institution, it did mark an ethical position that had potentially political effects: For who, more people might ask, would want to break bread with a person like this?

[steavethomas]

Insightful Precision: Unveiling the Benefits of CCTV Inspections in Plumbing

In the realm of plumbing diagnostics, precision is paramount. Traditional methods of identifying issues within pipes often involve invasive measures, leading to unnecessary disruptions and costs. However, the advent of technology has ushered in a revolutionary approach – CCTV inspections. In this blog, we explore the benefits of CCTV Inspections in Plumbing, shedding light on how this advanced method has transformed the way we understand and address plumbing challenges.

1. Pinpoint Accuracy:

CCTV inspections offer unparalleled accuracy in diagnosing plumbing issues. Equipped with high-resolution cameras, these miniature wonders navigate through pipes, providing real-time visuals of the inner workings. This pinpoint accuracy allows plumbers to identify the exact location and nature of a problem, eliminating the need for guesswork and minimizing the margin of error.

2. Early Detection of Issues:

The beauty of CCTV inspections lies in their ability to catch problems in their infancy. Whether it's a minor blockage, a hairline crack, or root intrusion, the cameras capture it all. Early detection translates to proactive solutions, preventing issues from escalating into costly and extensive repairs. This proactive approach is a game-changer for homeowners and businesses alike, offering peace of mind and long-term cost savings.

3. Time and Cost Efficiency:

Traditional methods of diagnosing plumbing issues often involve trial-and-error and can be time-consuming. In contrast, CCTV inspections streamline the process, significantly reducing the time required to identify and address problems. This efficiency translates to cost savings for homeowners and businesses, making CCTV inspections a cost-effective solution in the long run.

4. Non-Invasive Exploration:

One of the most significant advantages of CCTV inspections is their non-invasive nature. In the past, identifying issues within pipes often meant extensive excavation or dismantling of structures. With CCTV inspections, plumbers can explore the inner workings of pipes without causing disruption to the surrounding environment. This non-invasive approach is especially valuable in preserving landscaping, flooring, and other structures.

5. Comprehensive Assessments:

CCTV inspections provide comprehensive assessments of plumbing systems. Plumbers can visually inspect the condition of pipes, identify any signs of wear and tear, and assess the overall health of the plumbing network. This level of insight allows for targeted and effective solutions, ensuring that the root cause of the issue is addressed, not just the symptoms.

6. Preventive Maintenance:

Beyond addressing existing issues, CCTV inspections are a powerful tool for preventive maintenance. Regular inspections can identify potential problems before they manifest, allowing homeowners and businesses to take proactive measures to avoid major disruptions. Preventive maintenance is not just about fixing what's broken; it's about ensuring the ongoing health and functionality of the plumbing system.

Conclusion: Elevating Plumbing Diagnostics with CCTV Inspections

In the ever-evolving landscape of plumbing solutions, CCTV inspections stand out as a technological marvel. They offer a level of insight and precision that traditional methods simply cannot match. Whether you're dealing with recurring blockages, mysterious leaks, or a plumbing system's overall health check, CCTV inspections provide a comprehensive and non-invasive solution.

Choosing a plumbing service that embraces technology and utilizes CCTV inspections is a step towards a more efficient, accurate, and cost-effective approach to plumbing diagnostics. At [Your Company Name], we understand the value of staying ahead in the world of plumbing solutions. Our commitment to excellence is reflected in the adoption of cutting-edge technologies like CCTV inspections, ensuring that our clients receive the best and most advanced plumbing services available.

[enihk-writes]

[thunder bots in a clear sky]

[02] - the error in our messaging system has yet to be resolved, we kindly seek your understanding as we continue to solve this urgent issue at hand

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content warning: graphic descriptions of torture (inflicted on reader), hints to men having a sick fetish for that, not-as-detailed descriptions of the death process

[PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION! I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY TRIGGERS CAUSED BEYOND THIS LINE]

YEAR 3XX7, 50TH DAY OF WINTER

the woman had been sentenced to death by [redacted]. it was a unanimous decision among the jury, a sentiment echoed and praised throughout the other ordinary citizens living in the cosmos. they didn't care that she had once fought in the frontlines for the peace they had today, they didn't care that the corruption of the alliance party had come to light each time she made a mess, even if it was only for a brief moment. these armchair judges, jury and now executioners must have had so much fun playing with her life in their hands. how much satisfaction do you think they must have felt when the sentence was doled out on her the exact way they wanted?

well, she's never going to get an answer to that.

everything after the sentencing went by in a blur. from the moment she was escorted out of the courtroom kicking and screaming, because she hadn't had the chance to deny that last accusation nor did she have the chance to cave in that smug expression of her former superior, everything that happened in this time was nothing more than a rapid collection of memories overlapping each other like a broken mirage.

she rubs the sore spots on her neck. right, the higher-ups of the I.G.A.P's worked fast to seal her powers. it's like she now had a perpetual blocked nose that she just couldn't blow out. what a bummer.

so what else was there? what else did they take from her?

she didn't think there was much of her left that could be salvaged. but she finds herself sitting in a meditative stance out of habit, checking just in case.

breathe in.

in, in, in. she feels her consciousness standing on the bridge of her nose.

breathe out.

breather in deeper.

in, in, in. she feels the air push onto the core of the body, right above the stomach.

breathe out. let out a big sigh.

she can feel each hair on her skin touch the cold prison air.

finally, she feels her senses leave the tips of her toes.

she sits there in that position for a long, long time. listening to every drop of water hitting the floor, every whistle of the breeze or the warmth of the sun passing by her tiny barricaded windows. as the cold of the night air seeps past her tattered clothes into her skin, the pattering of the night critters grew louder around the base of the bed she was sitting on. sadly for them, her cell was bare as bones licked clean. they lost interest quickly and went someplace else.

when morning finally rolled around, she opened her eyes. putting an end to her meditative state. it was almost time for her execution. even then, the guards had yet to arrive and take her to the gallows. she honestly wouldn't put it past the I.G.A.P. trying to use this petty trick as a way to mess with her psyche. they were a group of people who loved playing little mind games on their prey and watch them squirm. she used to be one of those types of people too.

heh. and here she was now, on the receiving end.

loud clanging disrupted her thoughts. drunk and rowdy guards clamoured past the small entrance into her prison cell. the smell of alcohol made her nauseous. she'd never liked it back when her co-workers from the security department would go out drinking on a weekday work night, and come to the office the next day spent and almost half-dead. she liked it even less now. it, unfortunately, made her the office prude, the one everyone made fun of behind her back for being so uptight and a stickler for rules.

she scoffs. they were all hypocrites in the end.

spineless fools that followed the crowd even if it meant they would march on like ants in a death spiral. brainless, thoughtless, fools. no morals, no goals, no particular ambition. that's why she was the one on death row, not they.

aye, but who cares now. by tonight, her lifeless corpse will be incinerated and the guards will go home to their families. her old colleagues will drag their tired bodies to work at the ass crack of dawn and all that she had done will be for naught. all this effort has gone to waste. nobody she cares for is alive, the people she thought she was fighting for were all scum. nothing matters.

she feels the tight grip of the guards on either side of her arms, yanking her up in a standing position. she didn't scream or trash around or yell in pain like she did yesterday. with her feet dragging across the floor, she was brought before the hall of judges. the guards threw her to the ground, and she feels the air leave her lungs when her chin hit the cold marble floors harshly.

she just laid there, her ears picking up the voices reading out her sentencing once again. and when silence fell on the hall once more, rhythmic clacks of tailored shoes glided over the smooth pure white stone towards her.

a hand clawed into her matted locks of hair and pinned her face on the ground, a knee pressing down on the side of her head, digging into her and causing her eyes to tear up from the pain.

WE SHALL BEGIN WITH THE PUNISHMENTS NOW, PRISONER [REDACTED]

she jolted when a thick needle was jabbed into her neck, hissing when the metal brushed the bone of her spine. her breath stops when she feels a low tingle emitting from the needle, she feels the deepest pits of her senses stand up in high alert, her instincts were too slow to kick in because that dreaded suctioning sound barely made it to her ears before a guttural scream escaped her lips.

her body writhes in agony, her vision going white in spots, shallow gasps and bile forming up her gullet.

that device was a concoction she had made in her youth when she had been fuller of life and loyalty to the alliance. she remembers telling everyone at the showcase that this was nothing more than a prototype — the real deal wouldn't hurt as much, and it would ensure that death-row inmates would be given the chance at a painless end.

but down the line, the longer you stayed in the alliance, the more you saw and the more hope you lost for the world. and you grew conflicted in your beliefs and in your morals even after the day you left.

she wanted to laugh.

to use her own inventions against her, how typical of the I.G.A.P big-shots. and...

she probably wasn't the first to go through this torture, was she? perhaps, to die by her own hand was providence enacting her due punishments. that much, she can understand. that much, is a sin she is willing to repent for.

so then why? why was the worst yet to come?

she felt numb, the procedure was a mere few seconds yet it felt like hours, she didn't have it in her to feel ashamed of the tears and spit and vomit pooling around her face. she was already tired. so, so, tired.

perhaps her body was still doing its best to protect her, six large wings unfurled from her back, tearing apart the thin garb she was wearing to shreds as it did so. the wings, thick and heavy with pure white feathers flapped once, and then again — yet her body was still plastered flat on the marble floors. the wings eventually droop over and fall flat, all remnants of her energy completely and utterly spent in this meaningless attempt.

her eyes were clouded over, everything in front of her were just a mess of white and grey blobs with pops of lights and dots of colour. the mustard-coloured one growing bigger and bigger until she could make out some sort of shape. she didn't get to look for too long though, a foot slams on her head again, bringing it down to hit the floor hard.

the other foot found their way on her spine, the person above her swaying a little as they tried to find their balance. their weight pushing out the air in her lungs as she was left wheezing for a breath.

hands grabbed onto one of her wings, and surrounding her were people who had her limbs pinned down. she wasn't a fan of this constricting feeling, she tries to shake them all off her, helplessly. after all, she didn't even have the energy to even move a finger. what can she even do?

the hand yanks on her wing.

mustard was seemingly trying to gauge the strength they needed. pushing and pulling the appendage watching the muscles on her back move along with the motions. after a while of this, they must have been satisfied, letting go of her wing, leaving it to flop down. she feels the nervousness die down, oh if only she knew.

kklgchhhkkkkkk—!

a sickening crack of bones getting crushed fills her ears. truthfully, she doesn't even know if she could hear herself screaming out in response, the ringing in her ears and the jolts that pierced through her heart following the pain from the snapping of her bones were far louder, a more distinctive feeling. something warm drips down from her back to her sides, her back felt cold and it stung. it stung so badly that she thought she might as well die right then.

curses.

of all times, why did her cockroach-like survivability decide to present its abilities?

she just had to be conscious the whole time each of her six wings were broken and ripped off her body. her mind losing its grip on her mortal flesh, the muscles on her lower half loosens… she thinks that she might have defecated herself throughout this process. this was humiliating. it was all so humiliating.

truthfully, she already knew stripping away her chance at a dignified death was not some ground-breaking rocket science method for the I.G.A.P cronies. if anything, their hands were itching to spill blood, to spill hers more specifically. they were all nothing more than a bunch of snivelling pigs who filled their pockets with all the gold and luxuries the universe had to offer, sitting comfortably on their plush leather chairs in an air-conditioned office as they watched young girls barely in adulthood fight wars they didn't even start.

how cliché.

was this her whole life thus far flashing across her eyes right now?

she still remembers the cold settling in the bodies of her friends, watching on helplessly as life left them — it was a cloudless day, on the beach and… the sun was rising over on the horizon. it was so bittersweet, the promise of going on a summer vacation and doing all the typical people-on-holiday activities, like watching the sunrise then sunset on the beach with the waves crashing, ended up happening.

just, without them.

as the last of her wings were snapped and pulled off her — the brief feeling of a nerve ending touching the air sent another piercing shot into her guts. even then, her mind was still as clear as the skies of the beach that day, and there was blood all around her, though it wasn't as much as that time.

they say that when someone is about to die, by some freakish chance, that person can summon up the energy and strength even if they had none left.

she lifts her head, resting her chin on the floor, eyes looking past the strands of hair hanging over her face at the men assembled in this hall. she couldn't see them, not when they were wearing masks to hide their face, hide their shameful faces. stupid boys, they shouldn't have worn those white pants for today's execution. and she knew, damned well, that they could see her observing them all.

and she looks, just looks, at each and every man in the eye never breaking her gaze for what seemed like an eternity before moving onto the next one. and then another. and then another. not once uttering a word, not breathing a single sound.

the men too, sat in suffocating silence. dare not admitting that the dying woman before them felt intimidating — some shuffled awkwardly in their tightening pants, putting their hands on their laps or crossing their legs as well.

she lets her head fall back down on the marble floor, seeing her tired face looking back at her through the still-wet pools of red. she's seen enough of these men, she'd seen enough of this wretched universe.

as she exhales, the foul smell of blood and waste dulls in her nose. her heart skips, stopping its rhythm more often and things in front of her eyes lose their colour. it didn't feel cold, not to say that it felt warmer now… it just didn't feel. just as her vision goes black, she ears pick up on her unconscious mumbles —

you all will not receive a merciful end.

the sword will promise you that.

[homewarrantyplan]

A Complete Guide on Home Warranty Plan

As a homeowner, it's very important to maintain your plumbing system well. You need to ensure that the plumbing system is working properly and there are no faulty components that could cause issues later and potentially create problems in your life.

The plumbing system is a complex matter as it involves pipes and appliances. Even though we use the plumbing system for bathing, cooking, laundry, and other tasks, we often don't think much about its maintenance until it malfunctions and disrupts our daily activities.

Reasons why plumbing maintenance is crucial:

If you maintain and care for your plumbing system consistently, you'll be able to keep it in good condition for a longer period. Critical plumbing repairs can indeed be costly unless they're covered by a good home warranty plan. Fortunately, maintaining plumbing isn't a difficult matter, at least when you aim to prevent common problems like leaks, clogs, or broken pipes.

Here we are going to give you some common tips to avoid costly plumbing repairs:

See if there's any leak:

Do you know that even a small leak can waste a lot of water and increase your water bills? That's why making leak checks a regular habit is important for you.

A leaky faucet wastes nearly 8 gallons of water in a day. Toilet leaks can waste almost 200 gallons of water in a day. Appliances like your home's garbage disposal, refrigerator, water heater, and washing machine can also incur damage from leaks, leading to potentially costly repair bills.

If you experience inconsistent water pressure, whether it's too high or too low, the likely cause behind it could be a leak. If you suspect there's a leak but can't pinpoint its exact location, don't delay; have a plumber check it out. Undetected leaks can lead to structural damage, attract pests, and cause dampness in your home.

Clear slow-moving drains:

Usually, a buildup of soap foam and hair causes your drains to slow down. Before your drains completely clog, you can take some simple steps. It's advisable to remove and clean the stopper every few days. Create a mixture of baking soda and vinegar; it works wonders in cleaning and unclogging slow drains. If that doesn't work, it means there's a blockage within the drain, and for that, it's necessary to seek professional plumbing help.

Your toilet is not a trash bin:

Toilets and plumbing systems are meant for human waste. Flushing anything else, even if labeled as flushable, can lead to clogs and harm pipes.

Even materials like facial tissue and paper towels, resembling toilet paper, can create persistent clogs since they don't easily disintegrate upon contact with water. Feminine hygiene products, diapers, wipes, and similar items should be disposed of in a trash can instead.

Monitor What You Put Into Your Drainage

Usually, our home's drains are narrow and can quickly get clogged if you don't watch what goes into them. Things like hair, soap, food particles, and grease can clog your drains and prevent water from passing through properly. Flushing excessive toilet paper isn't advisable either as it can also lead to clogs in your home's drains. A great way to avoid clogged drains is to use a good drain cover.

If the plumbing system malfunctions, it doesn't just disrupt your daily activities but repairing it can also be a costly affair. In such cases, a ServicePlus Home Warranty plan can be the best help. Our home warranty plans cover your entire plumbing system at the most reasonable price.