#janice chambers

[veshialles]

Dr. Edith Harper Chisholm

-2102- Resident Psychologist of Vault 76, honorary Responder, "field medic". -2287- Traveling researcher, Priestess of the Forgotten God, occult expert.

Once an esteemed graduate of Vault-Tec University and a close personal friend to the Chambers and Hopper families, Edith Chisholm set out on Reclamation Day alongside her fellow residents to explore and settle in the ruins of Appalachia together.

Throughout her journeys, she grew ever closer to Jaden Chambers and Beverly Hopper, coming to care for them as her own children, and soon enough found herself romantically involved with Janice Chambers. Though initially fully loyal to Vault 76's mission statement of "reclaiming the wasteland", Edith soon became disillusioned with The Overseer's colonial vision when the mysterious Scorched Plague threatened the health and wellbeing of her newly-found family.

Although curing mutagenic infections fell far outside her typical area of expertise, Edith worked tirelessly to formulate a treatment plan, utilizing the resources left behind by the extinct post-war factions and following the trial of breadcrumbs left behind by The Overseer to seek out a solution to this monumental problem. While she remained acutely aware of the dangers, fervently analyzing and documenting the unique "telepathic" properties of the Scorched Plague is likely where her morbid curiosity with the occult and the unexplained truly began.

In 2103, after the Scorchbeast Queen was slain, and a cure for the plague was finalized and distributed, Edith's fascination with unexplained phenomena began to turn into obsession. Though her many encounters with so called "cryptid" and "mythical" entities served to fuel this fixation, the main driving force behind Edith's predilections came after Beverly Hopper's exposure to an unearthed mysterious artifact granted her with telekinetic powers, transforming Beverly into a kind of Psyker.

At first, Beverly's powers were greatly beneficial to the survival of the family and to the returning wastelanders, crushing raiders and crippling the abominable mutant hordes who would have seen them all dead or enslaved. But as the months drew on, and as Beverly grew in power, so too did she begin to grow reckless and careless as well, becoming as much a danger to herself and those around her as to her would-be foes. A force of raw fury and power to be reckoned with.

By 2104, Beverly's growing instability lead to tragedy when her family finally confronted her with their concerns, lashing out against them and mortally wounding Jaden when he dove in front of Edith aand his mother, taking the brunt of Beverly's telekinetic blast. Realizing what she had done, Beverly fled across Appalachia, leaving a path of carnage in her wake. Solemnly, Edith and Janice swore to stop their adopted daughter by any means necessary. Relentlessly they pursued Beverly until finally cornering her inside an abandoned nuclear facility, where a final confrontation played out, ending with Edith trapped inside the reactor core and suffering intense radiation exposure. Though she miraculously survived and was rescued by Janice, over the coming weeks and months, Edith underwent the slow and painful transformation into a ghoul, while Janice's health merely deteriorated.

Broken and grieving and irradiated, Janice and Edith returned to the homestead they had built, caring for each other until the end. Desperate to find some form of "understanding" in the wake of so much pain and loss, Edith sought out spiritual guidance and found her way to The Enlightened, fully indulging herself into the field of paranormal and occult research, etching crude wings onto her face and proclaiming herself as a Priestess of the Forgotten God.

Years later, when the Brotherhood Of Steel's fledgling presence made it unsafe for Edith to exist in the open, rumours began to spread among the Appalachian settlers about a dangerous and powerful mad-woman wreaking havoc and destruction somewhere to the east of Appalachia. A rumour which Edith has been chasing ever since.

[nejjcollectsbooks]

thrifted bookish finds 15.apr.24

today's book haul is made up of murder mysteries, irish fiction, contemporary fiction, historical fiction and fantasy.

The Battersea Park Road to Paradise by Isabel Losada - memoir, self help. The Appeal by Janice Hallett - murder mystery, thriller. The Man Who Died Twice by Richard Osman - murder mystery, cozy mystery. The Bookshop on the Shore by Jenny Colgan - romance, chick lit. The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon - historical fiction, dark academia. The Burning Chambers by Kate Mosse - historical fiction, dark academia. The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood - literary fiction, mystery. The Soil by Yi Kwang Su - translated lit, classic lit, Asian lit. Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs - myths & legends, classic lit. The Oxford Book of Ireland edited by Patricia Craig - Irish lit, anthology of short stories & poetry, classic lit. The Winter Road by Adrian Selby - epic fantasy, dark fantasy. Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James - sci fi, mythology, African lit.

taking the education of irish history and culture into my own hands. I'm still conflicted over my identity as someone with parents from two different countries and cultures while having been born and raised in a third country. time to stop wondering and get educated on the things, people and places that made me.

[bigjimbopickens]

Jim Pickens lore in point-form!

(Aka the CMK sims 4 series that ran from 2016-2022)

Recently I’ve noticed that newer CMK viewers don’t know the whole Jim Pickens universe lore so I’m going to explain it in the simplest way I can so they can know too :)

The story begins with Urp John. He moves into an apartment and has 6 kids with multiple women.

Jim Pickens moves in across from him and tries to get Urp to move in with him by attempting to kill off a household member.

Focus shifts to Jim.

Jim moves the family to the Sandtrap Flats, the first house in the series to feature a dungeon (called ‘chambers’ at this time).

To generate profit, he locks the family in the chambers and forces them to paint so Jim can later sell whatever they made. The only household members not in the chambers are the kids (Tim, Beejey and Urp’s kids). This is where the iconic Jim Pickens portrait comes from.

The cult unofficially forms. As members start to die, Jim begins taking an interest in the Grim Reaper.

Jim finds the Book of Chaos, which allowed him to kill people with magical abilities. He uses this to kill off rich families and inherit everything they owned as well as getting with the Grim Reaper.

Jim starts a graveyard business.

Jim and Grim officially become boyfriends. Grim moves in, gets pregnant and spawns Grimey. Grimey is given to another family in trade for Jules Cooper, Beejey’s boyfriend. Jules dies soon after.

Jim tries to kill Dennis Racket and pose as him but Dennis kept coming back. He was unkillable. But Jim bangs his wife anyways.

Jim robs people as Santa.

Jim opens a vet clinic and gets scarred for life by cursed dancing dogs. He also adopts a cat named Pumpkin during this time.

Beejey passes away and Jim goes on a jungle adventure to mourn his loss. Dennis also finally dies.

Jim moves to a new house with a proper dungeon and becomes a vampire.

Jim officially starts a cult, the same cult the fandom is.

Jim opens a joint restaurant/graveyard that only serves pufferfish. Many die.

Jim has a kid with Emma Racket, Dennis’ wife. His name is Project. He also became a cop briefly during this time. Weird era.

Jim dies and takes the universe with him so he jumps to an alternate timeline where he didn’t die.

Jim hosts a winter pool party. Many die and EA later patches this.

Jim kidnaps two Father Winters, Ryland and Clement. He tries to kill them but they cannot die, so instead they become permanent household members. One of them gets pregnant with aliens twins who end up being First Name and Second One.

Grim starts a painting club and Jim opens a store that sells the paintings. Jim also starts a band around the same time.

Jim goes to therapy and we learn about his past. Jim’s parents were Dick and Janice Pickens. He was forced to live in a closet, his parents didn’t care about him and his father was also a serial killer. Jim was taken away to military school due to the neglect.

What happens in between the sims 1 and sims 2 prequel videos is unknown and up to speculation. My theory is that it’s where he met Dennis, since they were around the same ages and were both taken from neglectful parents. Though Dennis turned out more stable and Jim was considered a lost cause because of his violent tendencies.

As a teen, Jim is somehow back in custody of his father and lives in a house with mole people in the walls. The moles are Mole1, Mole2 and Mole3. He tries to get a girlfriend but Dick kept throwing water balloons at her.

After therapy Jim becomes even more unhinged. Starts a YouTube channel and kills people on camera for content. He also did a twerking video.

Jim moved to his universe’s equivalent to LA and drives a man to suicide after ruining his life so he could inherit everything from him. Jim didn’t inherit anything from this.

Jim starts a content farm in his basement. Kevin totally isn’t a subject of it and this whole series isn’t just a documentary.

Jim opens a bar that doesn’t let people leave and he loses it. He starts killing people for simply existing and Grim stabs him to get him to stop. 💔

In attempt to fix his relationship with Grim, he goes camping with Grim but forgets he’s a vampire so it didn’t really work. So instead Jim cures his vampirism. Second One also drowns during this time.

Jim moves everyone into an abandoned prison and hosts a battle royale. Shrek wins and joins the household.

Jim falls in love with breadsticks and literally couldn’t let go of them.

The family moves to Strangerville and Jim becomes dedicated to solving the mystery of that town. He discovers the Mother Plant and is killed in battle against her.

Jim comes back as a ghost and defeats the Mother Plant. During Shrek’s sex dungeon era (that’s a weird sentence) Jim comes back to life. A miracle!

Jim somehow goes to the future to chase after his father who had gone there. Jim gets a bunch of half-siblings and Dick gets a boyfriend; Mole4.

Back in the present time, Jim becomes a merman and he’s absolutely beautiful. First Name also becomes a drug lord and they smuggle drugs across borders together.

Jim and Grim get married and Jim’s last name briefly changes to Reaper.

Jim starts a gang and goes to war with another gang. It ends with the other gang dying and Jim going to prison for once. They finally got him.

Once he was out of prison, the zombie apocalypse starts and Jim starts a restaurant that serves human flesh to accommodate the zombies. Jim also makes the two Santa’s fight to the death. Clement was the winner, he eats Ryland. Dick and Mole4 now join the family.

Jim goes to the magic realm and learns more magic. He uses the magic to terrorize other families and moves into a new house he killed the previous members of.

Dick declares himself as King and starts making people pay taxes to him. Jealous, Jim kills Dick for the title and doesn’t do anything with it. He was just fed up with Dick’s bs.

Jim goes to university. He becomes the worst landlord and also gets pregnant along with a few others. His child’s name is Aaaahhhhhh.

After that he moves the family again and tries to get as many people as he can to live in one tiny house. First Name dies and comes back as a demon to forever haunt Jim and terrorize the land.

To escape First Name, the Pickens family now lives in a bunker. Jim tries to enforce the “nobody can go outside” rule by locking people inside their homes.

Jim launches a nuke and destroys that section of the world because the people were annoying him. He is now the only remaining family member, besides Grim.

Jim meets Turg and the two team up to become the ultimate crime-causing duo, even if Turg doesn’t want to admit it. The two rob several homes with Turg as the distraction and Jim doing all the robbing.

Jim starts a knitting business with someone who won the lottery. Default joins the family.

Jim goes to the Star Wars. Idk if this is canon or not.

The cult compound is now here. Kevin only does one video on it despite streaming the building of it for hours. Nice.

Jim, Turg and Default go on a winter vacation to the mountains. Jim ages into an old sim and loses his sparkle 💔

Jim and Turg move into a haunted house together and Jim takes on several new jobs such as paranormal investigator, house renovator and murder speedrunner. Jim dies of old age during this time but comes back.

Jim starts an industrial farm, Turg is there too but he starts becoming irrelevant after this 💔

After dying to pufferfish, a clone of Jim shows up and Jim kills him.

Jim starts kidnapping people and making them play sick twisted games that results in people’s deaths solely for his own amusement. Karma catches up to him and he is shot.

Jim starts going absolutely insane. Even more than before. He spawns 100 babies, goes through strange changes and gets stuck in an apartment with 99 other people. Turg dies off-screen during this time.

Jim marries someone and that is the last we see him. That’s the end of the story.

I don’t think the current sims 4 series is canon to this one. It’s separate.

Hope this helps and gets you caught up/refreshed on the lore :) hopefully I didn’t miss anything. I did this entirely from memory :3

Jim is one of my favourite characters ever I love him so much. He was the only queer representation I had growing up too lol.

[budgetburials]

SUPPORTING CHARACTERS (1/?).

GLENNON & JODY GRAVES. Everett's uncle and aunt, respectively. After Marcella's arrest and Cyril's abandonment, they legally adopted Everett and raised him as their own. Glennon was considered the family's heir apparent for most of his life but ended up pulling back from his life of organized crime after his children graduated high school. JANICE & WENDY GRAVES. Everett's cousins/adoptive sisters. Janice is the same age as Everett, Wendy is about ten years younger. Janice and Everett are related by blood and Wendy is adopted. The three of them are close to each other, but they still argue and bicker like they did when they were kids, occasionally leading to scraps. MARCELLA GRAVES (NÉE VOLTA) Everett's mother. Marcella married into the mob and, over the years, discovered an extraordinary acumen for white-collar crime. She was the brains of her family's various hustles and schemes, and her husband, Cyril, was the muscle. She was so well respected that she nearly became the first female capo but was arrested on RICO charges when Everett was five. She is currently serving a life sentence. Everett visits her once a month. CYRIL GRAVES. Everett's father. After Marcella, an outsider, began proving a more effective earner and influential family member, he started tampering with her businesses, resulting in her being caught and arrested. The same night she was arrested, he packed his things and hit the bricks, leaving behind his young son. Cyril was located and killed by the family in retribution a few years later. ADAM CHAMBERS. Everett's college roommate. Adam is the head of phlebotomy at a hospital in New York and occasionally moonlights as an EMT. He became involved with the mob in his early twenties when he was mugged coming out of the library, and his assailant cut both sides of his mouth up to his ears. Everett used his criminal connections to catch and dispose of the attacker. Adam has tried to stay out of it, but after the New York crime family discovered his ties to the Graves, they turned him into an asset. In exchange for his safety in New York, he patches up injured family members off the record and occasionally gives information about the NJ family.

[theladyragnell]

Hi Nell!! Best recs for cozy reads?

Hello! It is starting to be autumn here in the northern hemisphere, so that does indeed make it the perfect time to read some cozy things! I will try to do a bit of a genre mix here.

To start, autumn and winter is the perfect time to read some cozy mysteries. I just finished The Three Dahlias by Katy Watson recently, and I've also liked The Appeal by Janice Hallett in the recent past.

Romances on the whole tent to be fairly cozy, of course. If you're a fan of historicals, Mary Balogh is one of my cozy authors for sure, and the frequently-recced-on-tumblr Courtney Milan really is also wonderful, try The Duke Who Didn't for some great vibes. For contemporaries, The Fiancee Farce by Alexandria Bellefleur and The Neighbor Favor by Kristina Forest are ones I enjoyed that are sweet and kind ways to spend an afternoon.

And then there's cozy SFF, my beloved! To start, I keep reccing The Tea Princess Chronicles by Casey Blair and more people should take me up on them, they are truly the coziest of vibes. T. Kingfisher's fantasy romances, particularly the paladin series, are popular in fantasy romance for a reason. The Devotion of Delflenor, by R. Cooper, is another one I wish more people would take me up on when I repeatedly rec it (if you are in the center of the Venn diagram of "loved E/R at the 2013-2014 fandom peak" and "loved Tamora Pierce growing up," I suspect you will be a fan). Becky Chambers is well known for extremely cozy sci fi.

Hopefully there's a book or two that catches your fancy in there!

[thegeminisage]

STAR TREK UPDATE TIME. saturday we did voy's "basics part ii" and "flashback," and last night we did voy's "the chute" and "the swarm." not really last night changed bc i am writing this at fuck o clock its going up tmrw w/o me but w/e

basics part ii:

this one was fine. or rather the a-plot of this was boring, the b-plot fucking ruled

like, what do i care about the surface of this planet? ik there's a whole season that happens after this, nobody important is gonna die. even the critter was no that interesting

also, FUCK the baby not really being chakotay's. i was so fucking devastated. i wanted him to have a little guy sooo bad. they gave it to me and then snatched it away. imagine how he must feel...the whole ship in danger to save the kid that wasn't really his, and two people DIED in the process. the a-plot was terrible.

but ohhh the doctor and lon suder taking on the kazons alone. mwah.

first of all, what a match-up. the doctor can't be killed or harmed, not really, not the way suder used to enjoy hurting people. so that puts them on totally even terms

secondly, the fact that suder FINALLY almost overcame his violent impulses and now he has no choice BUT to give into them for a cause greater than his own needs (to have peace with himself)...that's juicy stuff. his struggle when he came back after killing that one guy was absolutely incredible.

finally, i love that out of any two people who could be stuck on voyager, you get the idea that these two people had the best chance of doing what they did. like the doctor is quite literally PART of the computer that runs the ship, and suder has all the violent impulses of his former life now combined with tuvok's methodical nature and his own hard-earned patience. truly a force to be reckoned with. it doesn't really push your suspension of disbelief when he takes out all those guys at once because part of him has been waiting to do that for a looong time

genuinely i'm only disappointed they killed him...a character like this could have EASILY been a regular. i'll miss him so much

flashback:

I LOVED THIS ONE.......

the undiscovered country was not my favorite tos movie by far (it ranks near the bottom actually) but i wish i had skimmed it at least before watching this. the movie footage being there was so so fun, and JANICE RAND! i'm always so happy to see her turn up, she deserved so much better, even if most of her tos scenes did annoy me to death

anyway, imagine being in a show and 30 years later they are calling you on the phone asking if you would like to do another episode of the show. star trek really is so unique in that regard, very few franchises have that same kind of staying power. m*rvel who? get the fuck out of here.

i looooooved getting more of tuvok's backstory. i think it's really hilarious that spock's parents almost disowned him when he joined starfleet but after that vulcan parents are like pressuring their kids to join to be more like him. poor spock and poor tuvok i wish they could have met onscreen just once

janeway in the old uniform!!!!!!!! she looked amazing

mixed feelings about janeway's speech about how things were different in the tos era and that's why sometimes they didn't do the prime directive. actually, it's funny because i got a little huffy at her "they were quicker to reach for their phasers" comment like GIRL NO THEY WEREN'T and then like the very next day i watched "taste of armageddon" where kirk did immediately start blasting because the disintegration chambers triggered his tarsus iv trauma and had to reluctantly forgive her

that said. spock mention.

the chute:

something lgbt happened on star trek voyager...i don't ship this couple because i'm still kirby with a gun re: tom paris, but i'm incredibly happy for people who do. i think about how i would have been if this had been chakotay and janeway instead (besdie myself) and i just KNOW the harry/tom shippers were eating

i wish harry kim got more to do...he had a little more this time but his solo scenes didn't have much meat to them, it was his scenes w tom paris that really stood out

and like i didn't hate those scenes, but the "shitty hellhole prison" plot itself also kind of bored me, because we just saw a far superior version of this happen to o'brien on ds9 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and to me one half of tom/harry is kinda boring and never gets his chance to shine, and the other is eternally on probation for being too annoying in season 1. so i had a hard time staying invested

that said it was very fun when janeway came down through the hole guns blasting. now who's playing cowboy, captain?

the swarm:

this was another one where the a-plot sucked and the b-plot ruled

i know janeway doesn't wanna add another 15 months, but man, come ON...it was very dumb not to go around. it was even dumber to not go around WHILE YOUR DOCTOR WAS BROKEN. take a few days to fix him and THEN go. also WHAT HAPPENED TO HER IDEALS? the showrunner really needed to keep this shit straight this was wildly out of character for her. that plus constantly brushing off kes...not her finest episode tbqh

the doc losing his memory was great though. kes is SO kind to advocate for him as she does and she and b'elanna were just great in general. kes even gave him a little kissy!! treat him really niceys: the episode

the other doctor hologram was really funny too although his usage of the "it" pronoun made me flash back to my rage when people did that to data during tng

it was actually so true to life how people with dementia act...kes did a great job of keeping him calm until the end :(

and the humming!!! i can't believe they left it there, but i suppose the implication is he gets it all back. and what a breath-taking spot to end it, honestly

TONIGHT: ds9's "apocalypse rising" and voy's "false profits" (i read the summary and good god someone HELP me)

[critical-quoter]

September Books

Life is exhausting. At this point, I'm just reading to disassociate from all the real life bullshit that just seems to keep coming.

Assistant to the Villain - Hannah Nicole Maehrer ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Cash - Jessica Peterson ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Night Game - Christine Meehan ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ The Book of Azrael - Amber Nicole ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Happy Place - Emily Henry ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Despite It All - Mollie Goins ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Serpent and Dove - Shelby Mahurin ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ The Wall of Winnipeg and Me - Mariana Zapata (Audiobook) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Make It to Me - B. Randall ⭐️⭐️ Scorned Vows - Victoria Paige ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ The Play - Elle Kennedy ⭐️⭐️⭐️ A Soul to Keep - Opal Reyne ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Lover Unbound - J. R. Ward ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Souls and Sorrows - Sav R. Miller ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Done and Dusted - Lyla Sage ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Hades - Carly Spade ⭐️ Reckless Heart - Brighton Walsh ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Regretful Revenge - M. J. Perry ⭐️⭐️ Juniper Hill - Devney Perry ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Things We Never Got Over - Lucy Score ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Ruined Secrets - Neva Altaj ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Blood Always - Jill Ramsower ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Apprentice to the Villain - Hannah Nicole Maehrer ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Mistaken - Arianna Fraser ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Love, Utley - S. J. Tilly ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ The Sins We Hide - S. Cole ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ The Day We Met - M. J. Perry ⭐️⭐️ Book Lovers - Emily Henry ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Malevolent King - Mila Kane ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Runaway Queen - Mila Kane ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ London Lovers - J. R. Gale ⭐️ A Sinner's Memory - M. L. Broome ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Conspiracy Game - Christine Feehan ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Wild Eyes - Elsie Silver ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Sovereign - Raya Morris Edwards ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Not in Love - Ali Hazelwood ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Tears of Ink - Anna Bloom ⭐️ Deadly Game - Christine Feehan ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ The Marriage Offensive - M. L. Chambers ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ P. S. You're Intolerable - Julia Wolf ⭐️⭐️⭐️ The Deal - Elle Kennedy ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Down Pour - Maggie C. Gates ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Ruining Dahlia - C. R. Jane ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Meant for Gabriel - Natasha Madison ⭐️⭐️⭐️ The Pucking Wrong Guy - C. R. Jane (Audiobook) ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Crow - A. Zavarelli ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Cowboy Seeking Nanny - Janice Whiteaker ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Revenge, Baby - T. O. Smith ⭐️ Find You Again - Ava Hunter ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Bratva Bride - T. J. Maguire ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Off the Beaten Path - Madison Wright ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Secrets of a Billionaire - Eva Winters ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Fractured Souls - Neva Altaj ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

53 total books read for September.

[kudosmyhero]

Batman: Dark Victory #0: Prologue

Read Date: July 25, 2023 Cover Date: November 1999 ● Writer: Jeph Loeb ● Penciler: Tim Sale ● Inker: Time Sale ● Colorist: Gregory Wright ● Letterer: Richard Starkings ● Editor: Mark Chiarello ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

● oh. that was a short one. ● 👏👏

Synopsis: Batman briefly recounts the events of The Long Halloween, where he, along with Captain James Gordon and District Attorney Harvey Dent, fought a year long crusade to dismantle the criminal empire of Carmine "The Roman" Falcone. During that time, a serial killer named Holiday violently struck out at Gotham's underworld. Batman suspected that Dent was Holiday, but it turned out to be Falcone's son, Alberto. Now, the Roman is dead, and Dent is in Arkham Asylum. Alberto had been sentenced to die in the gas chamber, but during an appeal, he was ruled insane and transferred to Arkham Asylum, where he has a cell across from Calendar Man, who resents him for stealing his modus operandi.

The new District Attorney, Janice Porter, is attempting to secure Alberto's release. She notes that Alberto endured quite a beating at the hands of Batman, causing permanent nerve damage in his right arm. Alberto thanks her for devoting so much time to his case, and tells her that he is sorry for what he is done. Calendar Man tells her that he is sorry, too.

Porter pays a visit to Gordon, who has recently been promoted to Commissioner. She asks for Gordon to hand over all case files on Alberto. She insists that Alberto's civil rights were violated when Batman beat him, and Gordon stood by and let it happen. Gordon warns Porter that she is making a mistake, but she stands her ground. When Porter leaves, Batman emerges from the shadows. Gordon tells him that Porter is not going to be able to work with them, and that he might not be able to protect Batman. He then breaks down, saying that he misses Dent. Batman discourages such talk, and Gordon reminds him that no matter what Harvey has become, he was a friend to them both. As Batman leaves, he muses that the storm currently raging in Gotham is only beginning.

(https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Batman:_Dark_Victory_Vol_1_0)

Fan Art: Two-Face by Vablo

Accompanying Podcast: ● Batbooks for Beginners - episode 17

[effrvsnt107]

I am so ready to lock Harry Watling and Janice Fife in a torture chamber of psychological torture fanfiction and throw away the key. I am so ready to make then devour each other for your enjoyment. There is a severe lack of Inside Man fanfiction and I will do this if they kill me.

[2000sfm]

any suggestions for roles or reboots that would fit 30+ muses well? either existing or new ones!

we  would  love  more  older  muses  around  here.  some  ideas  for  older  muses  in  existing  reboots  are  listed  under  the  cut  since  it's  quite  a  long  list.  however  some  other  reboots  that  could  definitely  fit  30+  muses  are  :  13  going  on  30,  legally  blonde,  american  psycho,  mamma  mia,  how  i  met  your  mother,  the  office  &  desperate  housewives  !!

the  vampire  diaries:  alaric  saltzman,  jenna  sommers,  john  gilbert,  meredith  fell,  sybil,  liz  forbes,  lillian  salvatore,  josette  laughlin,  isobel  flemming,  carol  lockwood,  abby  bennett,  pearl,  mikael  mikaelson,  zach  salvatore  &  esther  mikaelson.

the  oc:  alex  kelly,  sandy  cohen,  kirsten  cohen,  julie  cooper,  jimmy  cooper

one  tree  hill:  dan  scott,  keith  scott,  deb  scott,  karen  roe,  quinn  james.

sons  of  anarchy:  jax  teller,  opie  winston,  donna  winston,  gemma  teller-morrow,  clay  morrow,  tara  knowles,  juice  ortiz,  tig  trager,  chibs  telford,  happy,  wendy  case,  half-sack  epps.

gilmore  girls:  sookie  st.  james,  christopher  hayden,  emily  gilmore,  richard  gilmore,  max  medina,  michel  gerard,  mrs.  kim.

pretty  little  liars:  ezra  fitz,  melissa  hastings,  wren  kingston,  ashley  marin,  meredith  sorenson,  veronica  hastings,  ella  montgomery,  byron  montgomery,  ian  thomas,  tom  marin.

sex  and  the  city:  samantha  jones,  charlotte  york,  miranda  hobbes,  mr.  bing,  aiden  shaw.

supernatural:  dean  winchester,  sam  winchester,  jo  harvelle,  bobby  singer,  john  winchester,  mary  winchester,  ruby,  lilith,  castiel,  ellen  harvelle,  jessica  moore.

friends:  phoebe  buffay,  ross  geller  (ross  gang),  janice  hosenstein,  gunther,  mike  hannigan,  carol  willick,  emily  waltham,  susan  bunch,  kathy,  jill  green,  amy  green.

criminal  minds:  spencer  reid,  derek  morgan,  penelope  garcia,  emily  prentiss,  hotch  hotchner,  jason  gideon,  david  rossi,  elle  greenaway.

grey's  anatomy:  lexie  grey,  mark  sloan,  derek  shepherd,  amelia  shepherd,  izzie  stevens,  george  o'malley,  cristina  yang,  alex  karev,  miranda  bailey,  callie  torres,  arizona  robbins,  april  kepner,  jackson  avery,  owen  hunt,  addison  montgomery.

true  blood:  bill  compton,  eric  northman,  lafayette  reynolds,  sam  merlotte,  tara  thorton,  pam,  alcide  heveraux.

jennifers  body:  nikolai  wolff

resident  evil:  chris  redfield,  albert  walker,  jill  valentine,  ada  wong,  barry  burton,  rebecca  chambers,  ashley  graham.

scream:  gale  weathers,  dewey  riley.

[illusioneddrawer64]

Custo with his fellow military janitorial and cleanup crewmates on Space Riders spaceships were unfortunately caught in the crossfire between Space Riders’ forces and the Prototype’s cult. The recent intense battle had both parties sustain heavy casualties.

Medical staff unfortunately reported that the wounds that Custo has are intense (not able to use surgery due numerous factors) and will have to wear a special mask (inspired by Joseph Merrick’s Elephant Man mask) to cover his sustained disfigurement.

When it was that time for gala events happen again; Custo wanted to help out to set up (and clean up later) but bit concerned how many will react his current appearance. Yet thanks to the encouragement of Dogday and other Space Riders, he showed up as one of service busboys as he usually do.

As a bonus; he had a bit of heart for music entertainment. With the help of other crewmates, they performed songs as part of charity work for wounded military veterans etc.

Proposed Playlist Songs performed at the Gala:

Defying Gravity, The Other Side, Ship In A Bottle, Magic (Mystery Skulls), HBO John Adams’ Opening Titles (Rob Lane), No More Kings (Schoolhouse Rock), Sit Down John (Sherman Edwards), Hamilton’s Satisfied, Shot Heard Round the World (Schoolhouse Rock), Les Miserables’ ABC Cafe/Red and Black, The Wellerman, Everybody Wants To Rule the World, You Know My Name, Another Way To Die, Skyfall, Writings On The Wall (Sam Smith), A Storm Is Coming (Han Zimmer), Rory’s First Kiss (Han Zimmer), Macrotus (Han Zimmer), Astronomia, Do the Hippogriff, Leta’s Flashblack/Ballroom Dance (James Howard), Hot Chocolate (Alan Silvestri), The Snow Miser Song, The Heat Miser Song, Tunes of Anarchy, Rock and Roll (Gary Glitter), Sandstorm (Darude), Into the Groove (Madonna), City of Stars/Planetarium (Justin Hurwitz), Start a Fire (John Legend), O-Zone (Dragostea Din Tei), Chocolate Rain (Tay Zonday), Resonant Chamber (Animusic), Marble Machine (Wintergatan), Old Town Road (Lil Nas X), Star Walkin, Run (BlackGryph0n), Type 40 (Chameleon Circuit), Song of the Sun (Janice Quatlane), Hated By Life (Hatsune Miku), Art Is Dead (boburnham), Weekdays Beatbox (Adym Evans), Human (Rag’n’Bone), Southern Cross (403 Forbiddena), Northern Lights (403 Forbiddena), Kings and Queens (Ava Max), Drum Solo (Neil Peart), All Good Things (Get Up), Break Time (Madeline Queripel), Deja Veju, Running in the 90s (Max Coveri), Blind Justice Investigation (AlterniaBound), Megalovania (Toby Fox), Big Shot (Toby Fox), My Ordinary Life (The Living Tombstone), Waving Through The Window (Ben Platt), Sweet Victory (David Glen Eisley), Blown Away, Damaged (Danity Kane), Power (Kanye Omari), My Drunken Irish Dad (Seth Macfarlane), The Highway Man (Loreena McKennitt), Galway Girl (Ed Sheeran), A Rose For Epona (Eluveitie), Taixu (lasah), Sihouette (Owl City), In the Name of Love (Martin Garrix), Read All About It (Emeli Sande), Hallelujah (Michael Henry), Counting Stars, Classical Gas (Mason Williams), Safe and Sound (Capital Cities), World of Tanks (Alan Aztec), Scatman (John Larkin), Waiting For A Miracle (Stephanie Beatriz), It’s Alright (Mother Mother), and Proud Corazon (Anthony Gonzalez).

For @onyxonline Space Riders AU.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - 90 - Who's a good boy? Part 2

Featuring the voice of Kevin R Free as Kevin of Desert Bluffs.

Click here for the other rundowns here!

You wanna go outside? Outside? You wanna go outside? You do? You do? I bet you want to go outside. I bet you do. Welcome to Night Vale.

Cecil trips as he tries to run from the Beagle Puppy, but is saved by Sheriff Sam who shoots it with their shotgun. The Beagle Puppy is unarmed. Sheriff Sam takes Cecil into City Council's chambers.

City Council is still there and say that they plan to lure all of the Strangers and the Beagle Puppy into the Dog Park by using the remaining NV citizens as bait.

Cecil requests to see Old Woman Josie, they all escape through the ductwork and take Dana's car to Josie's. Cecil wants the help of the angels to lure and fight the Strangers.

Cecil also wants to cut a deal with Hiram. Dana refuses to make a deal, but she says she will find out what he knows about the Strangers.

They meet with Sheriff Sam who is leading a mob of around 50 people. Included amongst them is a leader from the Joyous Congregation (dressed in long yellow robes, a rectangular hat and wearing a large medallion), John Peters (you know, the farmer?) and John Peter (remember, the pharmacist?), Tamika Flynn and her teenage militia, Sarah Sultan and many ex-DB citizens.

They march through the city chanting prayers together, picking up Carlos, Abby, Steve, Janice and anyone else who is still alive as the Strangers stand and watch them. The Strangers numbers have also increased a lot and the Beagle Puppy stands at the head of them.

The Beagle Puppey speaks through Sheriff Sam, and seems to be starting to take Steve. Cecil grabs him and shakes him to stop him from being taken. The Erika's fly overhead, Hiram flies down to fight too.

The Beagle Puppy and the Strangers disappear, but nobody is sure exactly why. Those taken are normal once again. The town has power and water again. Cecil says it could have been their chanting though he's not religious that much himself he doesn't rule it out. It could also have been Khoshekh, who disappeared then reappeared quite hurt with a piece of a dogs ear in his mouth.

Janice says it was Tamika and her teenage militia. Josie says it was the angels. Melony Pennington says that she and Megan Wallaby created a computer virus which took the Strangers down (computer virus' are completely airborne according to Intern Kareem). Sheriff Sam and City Council say their plan to lure the Strangers and Beagle Puppy into the dog park worked perfectly. Michelle and Maureen claim a secret Beyonce album they were listening to got rid of the Strangers. Hiram also fought the Strangers but was not parodoned for helping defend the town.

However, the FOW claims that nobody in town drove them away. The Strangers and the Beagle Puppy chose to leave and they might choose to come back one day.

WEATHER: "The Queer Gospel" by Erin McKeown

City Council wear long black robes and have reddish-brown teeth.

When the Erikas are around, Cecil hears a cello and smells confectioners sugar.

All the Radio Station bathrooms are unisex now.

You can apparently tell which people are DB citizens by looking at their eyes.

Some basic chants that Cecil recognised as being similar to ones he learnt in Torah school are: "Please God, destroy our enemies, Amen", some really long gurgling sounds and "DE-FENSE!" while clapping in rhythm.

Kevin leaves a message for Cecil saying that 'many of his old pals' from DB have moved to the Desert Otherworld. They've made a little city with roads and a school and a radio station and it apparently looks just like the old DB. They've decided to call it Desert Bluffs Too.

Stay tuned next for a deep sigh. Deep. Deep. No, deeper than that. Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

Proverb: You can tell a lot about someone by coming into our office and confessing everything you know about them.

[notmuchtoconceal]

My name is John Jacob Janus Kaminsky. I am knocking on the door of a home I have never known, for no family of mine has ever lived here.

I am knocking on the door in the dead of night, waiting for an answer I know will never come and expecting the world regardless. I am alive and this life is my life and with each morning I vow to make the beast of tomorrow, making the least of what passed for yesterday.

The door swings open.

By the flutter of my heart, I am taken by arrest.

Throwing back, so too does that what frames the porthole in the dark.

The doorframe which is not a mirror but the door on which I am knocking. The door from which I had knocked, it having swung open, and I being confined by no chamber, but he within -- left alone to ferment in the dark, stood symmetrical in station and profile.

He was tall and broad and more handsome by the day for his heart was unburdened and what forces played over his eyes, his imperceptible eyes I hardly recognized, though I saw them every morning in the glass.

It wasn't me. I was simply what was staring back, and he was more familiar than I could ever be, being so much more familiar to me.

I wasn't moving away. He wasn't moving in, being the first to move.

Don't go, he said with the words "Who are you?"

"My name is Jon Jakob Janusz Kaminski. I would thank you next time not to skip the previews. I was the voice they used to put in the trailers!"

He stared at me, seeing me outside the door which was not this door, but the porch of the home at which I lived. It only occurred to me now, the reality of my intrusion -- not only on this night, but the unreality of what myself must have been to him -- how strange it would have seemed to me, were it to be me to have met him on the step of my door.

"Would you like to come in?" I asked.

"You're outside," he said.

"Would you like to change places?"

"No. This is my house. You stay outside outside til I invite you in."

"May I come in?"

It only now occurred to him how rude it must have been, that I had introduced myself and he had not yet done likewise, though also -- supposing I cut him off with a social faux pas, saying what I'm sure will be the first of many things to make little sense if they were observed -- as if by a neutral audience which was not likewise agreed upon by the two of us, and therefore had no means for comparison; was therefore doomed to seldom overlap, each of us performing some distillation of proper etiquette for an imagined auditor, the least of which was the other.

"Please forgive me, mysterious and handsome stranger! The uncanniness with which it is the most fantastical unveracity that I may look upon you without swooning (which I'm now realizing is a perfectly adequate and natural response for stiff-lipped, hyper-rational, upper class Victorian gentlemen faced with confabulating circumstances) has unsettled me as such that I have forgotten my manners! I always thought the word swoon was girlie. I had thought everyone who ever swooned was but a ladyboy who couldn't handle the existence of monsters, yet here I am! Tempted to swoon merely looking upon you, and yet perhaps I am not mistaken? Is this not itself proof you are a monster?"

"Me, monster? Buddy, you're the one who lives at monster house!"

"Pardon me, friend. If monster house this be, its admittance you surely do not seek. Kindly turn and leave, having never darkened my life with your disturbing and impossible presence, strange shade of iniquity."

Our eyes met. The corners of his lips tugged defiantly, predictably.

As did mine.

"It is so hot that you can say this shit to me. I know you don't mean a word of it since you already invited me in. Introduce yourself so your brain keeps working and the flow of interaction may continue uninterrupted."

"I am J. Jonah Janice Kaminsky. I am not an animal, I am a machine. I am not a machine, I am a man. "

"A likely story. But it isn't the whole story, is it Chucky?"

He paused, slapped his forehead in a burst of exasperation.

"The shit you fucking say to people and expect them to respond to. Holy fuck. Nobody knows what that means. Nobody could parse out the nuances of that. The only fucking reason I know what you mean when you say that is we are evidently insane in the same fucking way."

I took a step back. I was moving my hips and my hands.

"Yes, that was it. This is the thing about us which is the same!"

"May I come outside?"

"You may, but you will?"

"That's not a question, I already have."

"Hey, plot twist."

His shoulders brushed me. His body was warm.

"What's over there?"

"I dunno. Do you think the world might dissolve if we try to move past the scenery? Sometimes I look at the city and the graphics are amazing."

"It think it'll just repeat. I think we'll walk down that street, then wind up back here once we turn the corner."

"There is a field."

"There is a street."

"Would you like to come in?"

"I thought you already asked."

The room was dark. Through one window crept the streetlamp. Through the other the pale beam of the waxing moon,

"Would you like a coffle? Tea? Coke Zero? I can piss in your mouth?"

"Foot rub'd be nice."

"Nice shoes, bro."

"Nice dick, man."

"You are seated in the den of J. J. Kaminsky. Poet. Playboy. Homeowner. "

"You are hearty and well-stocked. In body, mind and spirit."

"There's a shitload of stolen candles I already used in that end table. See if you can find any jackets with all the matchbooks written out."

The shimmer whorled around me black in the aquarium glass.

"I have to say, friend. While it is still too dark for me to take in, let alone admire and compliment the beauty of your decor, let me first say that you yourself are exceedingly handsome and well put-together in a subtle and understated way which is casual and decisive. Your red cap is fetching, as is the length, thickness, and metallurgical composition of your chains. Your shades of grey, in your snug and trim and clingy hood, and your shimmering nylon sweats, silky and smooth -- your socks and your armpits likewise are exquisitely scented, mulchy as a distillation of vetiver, a woodsiness near fungral for how damp and bucken with hearty fat."

His pause... Was too natural to be calculated.

"Thanks, bud. I"m well aware that our styles are nearly identical and you flatter yourself as you flatter me, yet nevertheless I can simply find no fault with your statements, and that our intense similarities in style induces in me something like a nervous and radical tension to rapidly diversify I feel is well-contained, for truthfully -- I feel moved into a death-like stillness gazing upon you, for you are simply... "

"I think..."

"... I know what you mean."

He stared at me, and I stared at him. I likewise felt a desperate need to distinguish myself in some way, and a contrary and opposite yet equally powerful need not to compromise myself needlessly, for he was simply content and I was simply content and yet -- as we looked upon one another in our mutual anxiety, the stolidity of our gaze, of our frame, the strength of our posture began to crumble and cord. I had felt knots strike me in places -- points of tension I seldom knew now breaking me -- as I steered myself against my volition in some arbitrary opposition in spite of myself, seeing him strangely and likewise pulled farther in twain.

"I, uh..."

"Yeah..."

Our mutual distortion sickened us. Where moments prior our near identical shape and countenance had been a source of alien alleviation, now every point of similarity seemed so wretched a mockery for what was sharpest and most apparent was each point which distinguished us -- and vulgar it was, for it marred what moments before had been a state of perfection, and was now still continuously contracting -- likewise in mutual and cyclical awareness that we were embroiled in a state of simultaneous and inescapable corrosion -- simply for we had attained awareness of one another and so robbed ourselves of limitation.

"What are you gonna --"

You cut him off, for your expression was more urgent.

"Your overall suboptimal status, I have to say -- is quite charming. Not in a way which is childish or crude or rubelike (I say these things solely so you know I do not mean them!) but with a firm absoluteness which is the elegance of the always understated and gentlemanly male who needs not the ferocity of an ideological monopoly to keep up the ruse of love!"

His pause... Was too long to be rehearsed.

"You too, bro? You think I look and act like you're fuckin dad?"

It was shocking. This thing he would naturally and inevitably think!

"What? Why would I think that? My father is an imbecile and a monster."

"Thanks, bud. You've made that clear already with your immediately prior sentence, as well as that crack earlier about monster house -- Monster House? Was that a Dreamworks? Why is that still deep in your unconscious? Does a porch with shark teeth simply recall the animistic imagery of all things fanged by icicles in childhood winters?"

"While your evidence is strong, I know that was the polar opposite of my intention, and your lengthy and detailed diatribe about the obscure echoes unstirred by trailers glimpsed in movie theaters (some of which I narrated) while fascinating in its own right, simply reveals the depth of your insecurity and capacity to participate in projections. I mean, you know what you are, buddy. I don't gotta rub it in your face . Big dog boy dudes like you who desperately want to lick my face with your eerie canid witch teeth, you know -- they like fuckin headpats and to be the best boy and to run around and jump in daddy's lap. Aren't you getting a boner right now, just by hearing me describe this? I sure as fuck still am!"

"Yeah, bro. It really makes my dick fuckin stiff, all these casually condescending attitudes you just carry fuckin around and don't take any responsibility for. Yeah, dude. The only fuckin person on planet earth you've managed to convince you're not a condescending prick is yourself cause you're the only one who buys into your own bullshit. If you think I'm your fuckin carbon-copy (but also I'm an idiot like you're father, who your nothing like except, oh wait!) you should get a boner while you slip cash from your wallet into your wallet. Hey, wow. I just thought of that! If I made you take out your wallet and I took out my wallet, we could compare identification to check the veracity of all these circumstances and give a definite, credible timeframe and location to these events, and while we're at it, hey -- we could glimpse strange and eerie details in the details of each other's portraiture, and hey -- what if one or both of us is making derp face or something cause those things only expire like every five years and you gotta show em to law enforcement and bankers and like -- what if you just made the derpiest face while taking an ID photo, then sat there in severe stoic contemplation anytime you had to show it to somebody in some sort of official capacity? That'd be a riot."

" . . . "

"I'm reading your mind. You don't have your wallet on you (predictable) and you're so goddamn in love with me because I'm so helpful and full of good ideas and possess deep intuitive structural awareness which lends morasses of deceit and falsity to the illusion of mundanity and reality. The best thing to do when you're lying to somebody, to really, really make it fucking convincing is to come up with a lie so close to the truth, it's almost invisible. You can swathe the surface events of the situation in such a fog of business-as-usual, nobody'll ever fuckin think to look there -- and anybody who does'll get accused of being nosy or some kind of dangerous renegade, cause you're rightfully aware -- normal fuckin people are the worst. Their need to be corralled festers their resentment and their mediocrity, but you give em a chance to be free, hey -- see how they fuckin act. You can say it all you want. They need to use their freedom productively, but here's the trick, bud -- they don't want freedom to be themselves, nuh-uh. They want you to be the better person so they have a better person to occupy. It's always, now and forever, always about them. They will never love you or care for you. They crave your power for they want power. Any, not yours. They could only ever see all you've constructed as a temple for themselves. They want freedom from themselves. They want a great man of history, some self-deified living God, to come in, destroy their way of life and take them over. Oh Your God. The only way Christ Who Is Caesar conquered the pagans was by saying he was the best! Pagans always want the best! They are so stupidly easy to brainwash and corral with carrots and sticks! Dog boy only understands operant conditions! Dog boy wants to be the big winner! Dog boy wants to take home the crown! They want a better person to be. You need to stop listening to fucking weaklings who've given up cause others gave em an excuse to. It really is as fuckin simple as it looks sometimes, bro. It's your feelings are right and you're being lied to. You're being lied to. You're constantly being lied to. Almost everything you hear is a lie. Wrapping yourself up in tight-af second-order rational conscious rope bondage does not change that. The world ain't always like a paradigm shift or a magnifyin lens, fucker. Sometimes makin shit smaller just makes it smaller, not paradoxically bigger. There are different rules in different situations, much like matter itself inverts at the margins. Am I being clear? Am I going too many places at once? Do you need it in a straight line, reduced to three points, bulleted? Maybe our little state ID thing can channel Patrick Bateman's famous and much celebrated business card mania -- you know. Bridge that gap between the casual barbarity of human mediocrity and the great men of history with these wall street betas who have no business and zeroer personality dry-humpin each other in a scene which is so spectacular precisely because Christian Bale's charismatic deadpan elevates the simping to unimagined heights. It's the performance which is noble, not the subject. That scene barely registers in the book, in part cause it's so much fuckin longer and there are so many way funnier scenes, most of which would be prohibitive in film. You know. You're a monologue guy yourself. You're aware of how Merry Huron's impeccable direction -- the score, cinematography, editing -- all of this renders an otherwise blase subject which is the height of bathos into the object of operatic heroism."

" . . . "

"Are you more angry that I said all of this out loud before you could, or that you're aware I probably said it better than you ever would?"

"Why would I be angry?"

"You look angry."

"First off -- Josh, the Cousin I am Within Give me the Strength to Stick Big Blocky Books on It All-- you said so many fucking things so fast, I need some time to process them. First off (here we go) just going back through my thoughts (backwards in my mind, not upward on the page) you opened with the claim of telepathy, which I was then reflexively skeptical of, so I approached all your following speech in that context, and (as I was still listening) was convinced as to its veracity by the tumult of echoes arising eerily out of nothing (which in turn spurned its own emotional reaction which I'm still processing) which made me then take more seriously the other things you were saying (while I already had about seven or eight tabs open) and then ... Oh, fuck me. Gimme a sec. I don't want you to prompt me. Um, and then you said..."

"You were in love with me, it's okay. I said it."

"Yeah, you said that, and then uh... All I can think about is how there is so much fucking material in American Psycho, Mary Harron's film version feels like a series of vignettes finely arranged -- a light brunch with wine, as opposed to the multi-day feast of its literary source, retaining the placid sanity of the business world but it seems for one frenzied eruption in the final minutes, where an ATM begs for pussy meat and shoot-outs with the police stir hallucinatory confessions to answering machine men who laugh and do not wish to think. Certainly, the full text of American Psycho has potentially vaster operatic potentials which've yet to be mined; the theatrical and ritual applications of which are almost unthinkable -- the lone man against the material."

"The prison of his own making."

"It lends itself so well to gay bondage porn."

(Who is talking right now?)

"Earlier I was really, really... thinking about throwing myself at you and burying myself in your arms and tasting your beard, but now I suspect ... I didn't, and rightfully so, for you were lying to me the entire time..."

"Of course you wouldn't be mad that I would effortlessly drop bombs like that in conversation. I'm demonstrating with my lived reality the lack of pretention inherent in film criticism, for this isn't simply a specialty skill. Our cinematic works compose our cultural vocabulary, and knowing how to view, processes and unpack visual and storytelling details is no different from translating one language into another. You'd have to be a real fuckin stupid-ass to think a Frenchman who was French and who could only speak French was somehow being "pretentious" by not knowing how to speak your mongrel degenerative colonialist dog language designed to make you stupider. Aw, man. Bro, not once. Not once in the history of human civilization have an oppressed people ever been given suboptimal tech and cultural modes to give them an irrational, needy, identity-based fear to cling to mediocre values!"

"People act like it's ... some sort of insane parlor trick to know how to talk about a movie. They think it's showing off to read a book."

"Bro, people are way too busy spending all their time and money on families they don't want and can't support to think about how propaganda is ruining their lives. Honestly, man. You're being inconsiderate by not already being their noble patrician billionaire daddy they can give up and rely on cause they finally feel seen and wanted. Like, bro. Think about this. Do you really think these people are worth saving when they only know how to be exploited? What if the proper attitude to take towards the working class is the same attitude PETA takes against Pets, which is also the same attitude taken by Our One True God, the Vengeful Mesopotamian Storm Deity, Enlil, against all these mongrel-hybridized bastards you desperately wanna stick your dick in."

"Absolutely everybody thinks about genocide. Talk to a man on the street, see the yearning for a mass baptism in a tide of blood. Why wouldn't I think all left-leaning management are lying, do-nothing bastards who manufacture realities with just as much falsity as management which leans to the write, but softer? It's what they are. Anyone who thinks otherwise is deluded, all in the same ways most people allow themselves to willingly be deluded, as was I -- thinking we were fundamentally better, when we were simply fundamentally different. Feeling persecuted and beaten down and losing ourselves by needing to be "better"."

"You give up everything you are just to be near them. It's sick. What they take from you and could never give back. It's better to keep people wanting you if all they want is to be wanted. Why would you want someone who only wants to be wanted? The urge to be wanted ought serve only the need to satiate another's want."

"When I want nothing, I could want only freely."

"I want everything, and I say only shades of... not today, not tomorrow."

"Not ever."

"What I want is you, bro."

(What I want is for you to know.)

"Every time I point out you might be lying, you seduce me."

"Wow, third time's the charm! Record time, bud!"

"The dating life's a blooper real."

"Don't plaster it over the credits. Stick it in the special features."

"Will you give our wedding video a boxset?"

"I've been feeling very Showgirls lately."

"You mean Bridesmaids."

His eyes clank like an executive toy. Abrupt.

"Right, those are different movies. Those are two different weirdly violent genre-busting chick flicks with one word compound titles both of which feature a synonym for virginal young lady bout to get deflowered."

"In terms of subject and tone, they're quite different."

"In terms of the ways I've already described, they're similar."

"One seldom knows the contents of a file before they open it, they tend simply to go off the name, that being what a name is for. To indicate."

"If I named something with an attempt to obscure its inner substance, what level of deception would that be, if we are assuming the purpose of a name is to describe, which -- why wouldn't it be, as this is the function of all language? When you name something, you are describing it. This is how pet names, nick names, well as the fuckin Bible all work, bro."

"If you were doing it with a deliberate irony you'd intended to be read, that would be the establishment of wit. Yet, the problem arises -- one needs to be aware that their audience shares either certain values or expectations (is aware of certain nuances, let's say) for the irony to be read, otherwise it may be confused for confusing or obscure."

"Naming a big man Tiny always reads. Everyone can feel size. Now a racist joke, on the other hand --"

"If you are a [White, probably white] man mocking racism, how much do you simply reveal of your own racism by being able to recognize it?"

"If you know what being racist is at all, you're racist!"

"Therefore all [Insert Racial Minority Here] are Racist."

"Therefore all [Insert Racial Minority Here] are the Most Racist!"

"Yet, that's absurd. To know and to recognize something isn't itself to condone it, as such a view could only come about in one who was totally an automaton with a lyrically-excised capacity to reason."

"It's like when you hear an Evangelical preacher talk about demons and you wonder if -- in our rational, scientific materialist world where nobody knows about the fallen celestial powers except whackjobs and drug addicts and rednecks -- if these clearly disturbed individuals holding sway over a captive congregation are simply using the Oylea Joshua Christos as a Font and an Opening to Spew Back A Corrupting Influence into Our Water Supply Like So Much Pipe In So Many Southside Leads."

His astuteness was wordless.

"Not once has anyone successfully Christianized the Irish."

"Likely, what's going on is that some [White, probably white] men exploit the opportunity for good-faith burlesque and its cathartic opportunities to vent in profound and hilarious ways and just spout their racist attitudes "ironically" (a flat and artless reduction of the subtle and overt juxtapositions which make for the sophistication of real irony) thus rigging the game against the powers of light, by casting a dim shade of fear and doubt over every earnest imploring for truth and reason."

It was unthinkable, all the things he could make you think.

"If a young man with no prior theatrical or analytical training were to see these distortions at an impressionable age, see their apparent effect -- their reaction -- have no knowledge of those outside of his small pond, their immediate doubts and anxieties, yet nevertheless -- being otherwise trained to regard them with expertise and authority, may overinflate the worth of their attitudes, their truth more definitely smeared.."

He leaned in close. He was so sexy when he was haranguing.

"One big lie. A thousand and one false conclusions."

"It's the American way."

(Bombs falling from the sky again!)

"You could never save them all. Only the ones who want to know..."

"... are fit to live."

"The urge to survive, a fleeing --"

"-- the desperate urge to persevere."

"In knowledge there is death, as in ignorance there is life."

"Running far, I always find you again."

"I wanted... to kiss you..."

"Do it."

"You're a liar, and a thief."

"Sit and drink..."

(Deutschland is on the --)

Penny for you

(Rhine Again!)

r dreadful thoughts.

. . .

When you stumbled back, there was a [cachunk].

You felt it in your legs. The tremor in your bones and nerves.

You didn't read it on a screen.

"What? What is this?"

You stared down. In the light of the moon, fuller than it was the day this night began, the mahogany handle of the icepick bled into the surrounding darkness. The gleam shone stainless in the moon, blooming beneath the weave and lace, the pleating of her gown, the reds of her heart. Snowy as the poppy fields you yearned to skip across.

"That's, uh... That's your sister."

"What's my sister doing at your house?"

"That's a very good question. Why don't you ask her?"

"I'm asking you. She seems -- if you do not mind my being so blunt -- a bit indisposed at the moment."

"She seems a bit... indisposed at all moments?"

"Hardly a recent happening, you'll lead me to believe!"

He looks away. To what you presume is a camera in the wall.

"Hey look, we're finally where you wanted us to be four hours ago!"

"Four hours and three nights."

Not sure if that was you or the mic.

"It's amazing that you can write for this long after you take a break! I think it's a lot easier to get me to be your willing slave when you feed me, water me, take me out for walks, and let me get a full night's sleep!"

(You're positive this was you this time.)

"It's amazing that you can talk at me all that time to hide the fact there was a body on the floor all along. Okay. Back to the diegetic realism which you seem to favor, not-at-all hypothetical person in some purgatory realm of my own making. (Purgatory! Before I wholesale adopted other people's guilt complexes, I always wondered why everything was purgatory. Purgatory! Purgatory! Purgatory! That's every urban legend, every crack analysis, everything which leads one to believe all which is not adopted as orthodox is not heretical, but simply arbitrary. It's exactly what I thought it would be, but feeling it's a whole nother level of different. I guess we all (secretly and all times) know exactly what we're getting into and we just do it to feel what others feel, so the whole of humanity remains not a tantalizing enigma, but a tedium. That way I can get back to my work. Not my work which is personal, no. That would be arrogant. The very height of it. To work for oneself. To not know slavery. To yearn for freedom. Best to work for someone else your entire life for a pittance, reminding yourself that people are hateful and not worth knowing, so you never feel tempted to suspect you're missing out.) -- Why did you invite me in? If you were hiding a dead body (my sister's allegedly -- do I even have a sister? What was I doing before I came here? Where am I going, and what am I after? I know this isn't my house, and you aren't me, and yet -- you look exactly like me, and I don't know where I am. You seem the sole point of stability in a chaotic, inverted and meaningless world and yet somehow I distrust and fear you more than anything, despite your seeming constant availability and honesty. You're not lying to me about the lies, unless you're doing so to obscure some far vaster lie, beyond even your understanding? Love opens oneself to vastness, and yet to contemplate love in its complexity is to become so meager, how could one ever possibly hope to strive for it? Best not to think about love. Think about love as little as possible. Just let love happen, and when it happens, try not to fuck it up!) -- why did you invite me in? With this dead body on the floor? How long did you think I would sit here, not stumbling and groping in the dark, but spellbound by you, seemingly for an eternity, while I stood and did nothing and followed a riptide downward, for all around me (invisibly) were the corpses of my loved ones lying prone and hopeless? If I turn on the light, which I still have not found, will I behold simply a blanket of corpses? Floor to ceiling, the lacquered dead shall assail me, twisting and entwined, in the false petrified embraces of your arbitrary and yet sublimely transcendent schema, for a man who has allowed himself to be made material is consenting to the lime of transformation, decay and display."

He pauses. Not to take it in, merely to highlight how he does not.

"Oh, I thought I'd have gotten you into the bedroom much sooner. I don't know, bro. You talk way to fuckin much. I can just tell you talk too fuckin much, so I try to untalk ya by outtalkin ya, but you're so goddamn stubborn and suspicious and seized by such a categorical mania, you don't just give in like a normal person and consent to be brainwashed by surrendering after the opening salvo, no. You talk back. You chose to participate. You haven't gotten the subtle messaging that participation as an equal is discouraged. The only way our sham democracy can work is by people knowing they have opportunities, but feeling like they can't. When you don't allow yourself to feel, you don't allow yourself to feel bad in the ways which control everyone around you. Bad boy."

"It's so alarming and yet so affirming to think--"

"LIMITED TIME OFFER. GO FAST. GO FAST. GONNA MISS OUT. OPPORTUNITY NOW. ONCE IN A LIFETIME. GONNA CHANGE EVERYTHING. STICK FIGURES DANCIN. HYUK-HYUK-HYUK."

"Beep-boop-boop-bop. Time for cogent answer recognized. You are not serving my immediate use-value needs. You are not a useful node for obedience and control. Running shame protocols. Next time give up easier. Moving onto easier target to brainwash and convert."

"Oh my God. Imagine being someone over the age of 14 who thinks in terms of being the main character. Who's a cute little boy who's finally learning to see themselves as their own priority, extrapolating their awareness outward. D'awww. Hey. Good for you, bud. Good for you for finally learning you don't need to serve someone else's needs, you can make your own. The absolute level of juvenile self-absorption -- coming from a man in his 40's --- I mean, come on. You're giving away that your only familiarity with storytelling structure are the basics. That Chosen One Shit. Really think about it. Really think about this, dude. Stories for adults (even stories for children for that matter) can have multiple main characters! I think anybody with a functioning brain (not you or the your own stupidity you see in other people) can figure out that truth arises somewhere between any one perspective, and like -- lemme see. Aside from how works of emotional complexity retain the same fundamentals in storytelling but minutely-refined through the endless variances of time and circumstance (they ultimately being but echoes, theories and elaborations upon our psychic reality), learning how to construct a character doesn't only reveal the nature of the self, it reveals the nature of other people. By crafting a character of a different sex, ethnicity, social class, what fucking ever, you both go outside yourself and inside yourself. It's empathy and it's narcissism because we are at all times ourselves and in coordination with other people. Durr. Fucking loser.

'Drench me in the sweat of your bench and call me yours!"

"If I wanted to pull the exact opposite shit, I would check this -- Think about fucking weirdo nerds who only "worldbuild" because they need an imaginary framework to string their knowledge of disparate historical and scientific subjects together into a fantastic register which is a vessel for their learning. Why else would they do it? Why else would they do such drastically unsexy, radically unfuckable things if not to learn and have fun? Is having fun and learning sexy? Is learning and sexy power? Oh my God. Is that what is it? Do we only get good at things to have power? Is competency power? Should I feel bad for being good at anything? Why should I ever have any sympathy whatsoever for the nerds I wedgie when all they are're weird lil hobgoblins who jack off over D20s pretending to be God? Why does anything feel good? Why does anybody long to discover or know or care? Let's sit here and really think about the fundamental reasons for why we do what we do, instead of just doing the things we have and want to do? Let's all sit here and Judge Ourselves for That Great Imaginary Audience Who is Either God or Your Peer Group or Your Absent Mother and Father and just announce to the ether that we're doing the right thing and deserve to be loved instead of just ... I dunno. Doing what makes us happy with the people who make us happy!"

He didn't pause. He was you.

"It's better to know the self in isolation than to know a fake world in mutual isolation, reminding one always there is no joke to be in on."

"Kids are a treasure. If you don't want em, you ain't ready to receive."

"Don't open before you're ready for business."

"Don't invest til you have the means to trust!"

"The more mistakes, the more reason they can find to control you."

"The more control they have, the more they can hide their mistakes!"

You didn't have to look. It was never fully out of mind.

"The dead body on the floor, you know -- you're not getting out of it."

"I had you going! You forgot it was there!"

"So what else have you lied to be about? Do you even really look like me, or are you a gray of a Faye or a djinn or a Wynn?"

"You callin me glamorous?"

"A regular puss, you have your tendrils in every opening."

"Kitty got claws, but the pussy got feelers!"

It was so stupid. How opportune he always was.

"I want to kiss you, but you're a murderer harboring a corpse you haven't disposed of, and you've already told me multiple times that everything you say is a lie, so I have no reason to believe anything I say."

"Murderer? Why you think I murdered her?"

"This is your home."

"I could have come home and found her this way!"

"You were hiding the body."

"You knocked unexpectedly, and uh... hello, corpse! I mean, hey! Look what happened! You immediately suspected I was the killer! Why wouldn't you? Do you I think I wouldn't suspect that, and then my presumed guilt would make me panicky? We've already established how freakishly cruel and judgmental you are, with your rampant unaddressed entitlements and condescending attitudes. I am not telling you anything which doesn't sound reasonable and which you already expected might be true, since other people look at you and think that you're repulsive."

Right. He was doing that thing where everything he said made sense if you were talking to someone who wasn't you, and didn't know all the things you know. He never had any idea who he was talking to.

"Okay, self-confessed liar who I suppose may have been lying about that. Why not. Do explain as how to the corpse of my sister I have no memory of found its way into your home, seemingly without your knowledge, or am I presuming? Perhaps you simply leapt to the presumption of total ignorance to test me, and you know well how she died, but aha -- did you also expect me to distinguish this theoretical from your later elaboration, or did you suspect -- like most -- that I would take the example of the excuse as reflective of the immediate experience of your life?"

"You, uh..."

"You can't. You're a liar. Would you like to come outside where I can see you be the vision of some foreign satellite which gives only luminance?"

"Don't call me a liar, you know if you say it, I'll do it."

"You always me tell me the truth."

"I love you and I hate you and I wish you were dead I wanna be you."

"Eat me."

"I can't."

"Why not."

"That's repulsive and horrible and contradicts my every learned value and natural instinct."

"Then why did you suggest it?"

"I don't know... it feels really, really good?"

Your eyes wandered over. You didn't want them off him. The woven stockings of her legs slithered in the black arabesque.

"Is that why you murderered her?"

"Do you really think I murderered her?"

"I suspect if you hadn't, you would have said so by now."

"You didn't murder her."

"I didn't murder her."

"No, you didn't."

"Did you?"

"I didn't."

"Why didn't you say that earlier?"

"I, uh..."

"Could you not say it until I could?"

"Well, uh..."

"What if I said 'I absolutely can self-terminate?' I didn't say it, but let's say I did. Since I didn't say it, if you can picture it, you only imagined I did and if you only imagined I did, it was your own latent wishing arising wholly out of your secret desire, which you manufactured from scraps and other sparse vestments which you've woven to a comforter."

". . . "

". . ."

" ... why would you do this to me?"

"Why have you done any of the things you've done?"

" . . . "

"Is that all?"

"No, I uh..."

You had been staring at him. You'd forgotten he was you.

"Why?"

"Why, uh --"

"Why not?"

". . . "

"This is your house?"

"You're certain."

"A foot-rub'd be nice."

"Was I... getting you a drink?"

"To invite me into the bedroom?"

"Would you like a glass of water?"

"I'd like you to tell me about the body on the floor."

". . ."

" ! . . . ? "

"Body on the floor?"

"Is this really you? What reason would you have to be ashamed of murdering my bitch sister? Certainty one or both of you wanted it."

"I didn't think you'd understand..."

"How is that likely?"

"Things which needn't be spoken oughtn't be said aloud."

"Would you like to innuendo the secrets of the corpse to me?"

"Things like that sound like they can be arranged?"

"What was she like? This sister of mine you confess to know nothing about, or did I only presume that once more by the example you'd earlier given suggesting not only her death, but her identity was a mystery? Yet why would I think this, you knowing she's my sister, while I do not? Why would I project my lack of familiarity with her onto you? You must have known her, she being in your home, unless-- would you like to now claim her death was self-defense, or am I leading you by being generous?"

"No, I can work with that. She attacked me."

"You got her with her own ice pick. She thought you were cold, but you'd made her hot -- and dampened, her seawalls gave way to shatter!"

"Why was she attacking you? Did you instigate, or were you invading? Is this her house? Why do I suddenly feel as though this is her house? Who are you again, and what are you doing here? Why do you look so familiar, and did you look familiar to her? Did you say she knew who you were?"

"If I didn't know her, I don't suppose she knew me."

"Maybe she could know you very well despite her not knowing you."

"Maybe her knowing me very well is why you didn't know you?"

"Are you saying I murdered her because she wanted me more than you, or did I reverse that in my head, I'm not sure? Wait, no. I definitely didn't and it was absolutely you, though in which way I'm absolutely unsure!"

"No, these --"

"The only mindgames I like to play are Jenga and Twister. You may think they're not mindgames, they're simply ones of cause and effect and applied pressure and this is absolutely so -- both are opportune avenues for exploitation and domination through subtle installation."

"You like things collapsing into piles! You're a good lil dynamiter!"

"I'm King of the Anarchists! I look so cute in my scarf mask and my molotovs and my 19th robber baron-century hot-air balloon chase!"

"Bro, I'm parched. Kindly lead me into the kitchen and let me watch you pour me a drink from an unsealed source into a glass I have freshly washed myself so I can be absolutely certain it remains unspiked."

"I'm helping you cause you wanna help yourself! Don't you ever fuckin forget that, bro! People who don't themselves, I fuck hard!"

[That thing which was stated to occur

occurs raptly in the feign'd on-time,

complicated only by elaborations

well-suited within their bounds

that every struggle becomes a dance

tension pluck'd to a harpsichord ping

as each flyboy writhes tautly knot

the h(a)unted yelping in surrender.]

You sat there, seated in his armchair. With your Zero and your coffee.

One laced with lime, the other with nutmeg and cinnamon.

"Lemons, I like lemons! You only have lime, and yet both are citrus, how does the substitution change the measure? From lemon one makes lemonade, and this is the alchemical gold which is one with the shower! The lime is alike with brick and mortar, it seems not to change shape, but simply cement and what is it I'm sealing, searching for a cask as you lead me farther down, farther down, to the doom you have expertly deigned for me yourself-approved, in the empty cell of some lone wall."

"Why do you wanna go in the box so bad? Are you the real vampyre? If you only wanna fuck dead things, maybe that's why you're here, talking to me about that corpse on the floor that I don't wanna talk about for the reasons I have just stated, namely how badly you wanna fuck it and how rightfully uncomfortable that would make me: a sane man and a homeowner with a stable and satisfying dayjob and lots of good and easy hypnotizable normie friends I can feed on with my acts of generosity and good cheer as they fall in love with the imaginary perfect man in their heads they project onto me, as I dispassionately know all secrets of the universe as they bare themselves splendidly and nakedly before me?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that I know everything you say is a lie and you're love in me and only want to control me -- that I am absolutely certain alone of these three things -- makes you rather than a source of dismay, one of paradoxical and persisting comfort."

"To you my brother, I say thus: all lies reveal the truth, and all love is love for oneself, as control is an extension of but these two things alone."

"That your axioms are so strident, I yearn only to contradict them."

"You may do so. Reveal their falsity to the best of your ability."

"You have linked them as such that to disprove the whole is to disprove the entire triune at once."

"If you shatter one, would the whole chain not crumble at once?"

"No... no ... you say all lies reveal the truth, and they must, for to catch a lie is to lead one closer to the truth, unless it leads one only to another lie... yet one could not be sure if this was so, until one had gotten closer to the truth and seen how further they'd been, thus now certain they've drawn closer... Yet, in the context of the statement this is complicated by the following: namely that all love is love of the self. This too seems difficult to contradict at once, for if one were to love a stranger, one wouldn't be sure if one would be attracted to the difference, the sameness or how the two interacted? The foreign may only be known in the context of the familiar, but then it is no longer so. It may only be reflected upon, in a context which no longer is. Since the interaction is relevant, one cannot be sure if the attraction is rooted in sameness or difference until one has clarified ... the source of the love, for you chain both together to control, and one cannot know control until one has been freed from it, complicating all prior associations. It's more that to disprove the third, one has to disprove the first and the second simultaneously, to collapse the third, otherwise all three remain supported for the stresses of their contradictions seem to feed back into one another and disperse."

"Well, you know ... that's all well and good for a first impression, but surely there's a lotta shit you just haven't had the time to think of yet!"

"And that "two things alone" bit."

(Wow-ow--ow-woW)

"...It's to say with certainty that control could only ever arise out of lies reveiling the truth and love being the love of the self. If I could simply find a form of control which was honest and selfless ..."

"Hey, good luck with that!"

"To phrase it in such a way makes it seem inevitable, and yet was the statement not produced to make it inevitable?"

"If conclusions are drawn, they are always representations."

"Everything right is a theory."

"Everything right is what's agreed upon."

"Why do people agree?"

"Simply stern and severe rational consideration of the facts, maim."

"You're right, I may one day disprove it, but it doesn't seem as though I can do so now, for despite the refreshments I weary of talking."

He skips hoppily up to leer at the camera in the wall.

"Holy fuck! That took ten hours! We've been at this shit ten hours! Finally! Finally I can get his dick hard! He's finally fired out enough to fuck!"

"Why would we fuck? You're a murderer? What's to stop you from ice picking me then spouting a bunch of nonsense at the next hunky young plainclothes detective who comes to the door looking exactly like me and looking at you, and wondering, wondering, wondering when?"

"That was never proven!"

"The murderer or the hunky detective?"

"One of those things hasn't happened yet!"

"So you admit you're the murderer?"

"I admit there's a murderer! The murderer happened!"

"So it was definitely murder, then? She didn't commit suicide or trip and stumble and fall on the ice-prick then roll over?"

"Yes. Yes, there definitely is and always was a murderer on the loose!"

"We're both in danger?"

" ... y-Yes."

"What if I'm the hunky detective and the murder hasn't happened?"

"What if -- since I'm you -- she tried to murder me and I killed her in self-defense? What would you do or believe then?"

"If you killed her in self-defense, there would be no murderer. You'd be guiltless in the eyes of the law, and she -- never killing you -- would not be a murderer. Therefore the murderer... would not have happened."

"Then if she were to murder you in self-defense, that'd have to happen later still too, right?"

"No. She's already dead, why would she defend herself against me?"

"What if she rises from the grave and tries to consume your flesh?"

"Furthermore, you can't murder in self-defense."

"I can't, but she can?"

"Did you do something to her body which will cause it sometime to reanimate? Is she under some enchantment, the vessel for some entity? Is she stricken by a fossilized alien parasite or pricked by some viral -based bio-organic weapon? Is she in a state of self-induced trance from which you hope her awakening will startle me into a fit of unexamined and explosive fear? Do the vagueness of these circumstances -- my evident lack of short and long-term memory withstanding -- make the sudden intrusion of genre elements not only palpable, but vital for a genre element lends both dramatic and psychological familiarity, we understanding monsters in all their forms to be metaphorical, even if only illustrative of man against his imagined other?"

"If she got up, that would certainly be shocking -- both to you, and as far as you can tell, also certainly to me as well!"

"Oh, look. You don't want to fuck at all. You wanna go another five or six hours and make this a lengthy dissertation on the nature of genre!"

"Oh God, please no! I can't stand another second of cogent academic consensus! I am neither bored nor falling apart, but simply -- void, and empty of any happenstance, any need which is unnecessary, or any squanderings which would result in squalor, I am simply... now?0 I dunno -- I think I was not before, and now I do not understand!"

"Would you like to go outside?"

"Oh God, please! Please get me the fuck out of here!"

"Fleeing the scene of the crime. That won't look good."

"They know where I live, unless this is her house, at which case, they don't know what you know, and anyway -- good luck explaining!"

"Explaining what?"

"The dead body we're fleeing from."

"I'll simply tell them I asked you and you told me nothing."

"If they ask me, I'll tell em you told me everything."

"Well, that'll be their problem then."

"Good fuckin luck, am I right!"

"More than anything I need fresh air."

"You think we'll ever come back?"

"Right now, it seems only a matter of time."

"Whose to say if the same will be true later?"

"Time will tell."

"I eat time for breakfast."

"Tribulation in tails, satisfaction in snails, tongues won hands-over-feet -- the rumbly in your tumbly whispers utmostly the inevitable!"

The door swings opens.

You're coming and going, receiving and parting.

The crisp bright night awaits, beckoning endless probability through the clustered & creeping axons of its bare, entwining branches.

"Trust in your healthy gut!"

"Buy me a kombucha."

"I am not paying for bacteria, go lick a fuckin rock!"

"You wanna lick my face?"

"Like a fuckin dog, boyo!"

"I feel this needs some concretizing tragedy."

"I feel all concretes are known, and all I know is tragic."

"That'll do, pyg."

"Oink oink! Porkchop's a pup and I'm a goddamn golem!"

[legionnaireslover]

What’s  “Murphysmom67″ so upset about?

Let’s see - Murphysmom67 presents herself and a medical blogger (and Gator enables her to do so).  She claims that she is more than qualified to make highly detailed diagnosis of BC’s “problems” (both psychological and physical) and wants others to believe in her “opinions” because she wants her views to carry weight.

BUT there’s a BIG problem!  Murphysmom67 has a CREDIBITY PROBLEM.  

This was sent in to Gator after Gator posted Murphysmom67′s completely unhinged rant about BC living a life of total mind-conrolling torture and sexual and physical abuse and claiming to be “privy to this man’s psychiatric and familial history over the last 4 years.”  

She also claimed she had the “pleasure of working with someone who has the insight and maturity to understand this man far better than I ever could” (she means Aeltri who claims to have connections with BC on the ASTAL PLANE!).

Publishing THIS on a PUBLIC FORUM opens her up to PUBLIC scrutiny.  So she shouldn’t be surprised if others answer her back.

Oh, but the Haters are INCENSED that anyone would dare question Murphysmom67′s off the wall tome!

Just look at Gator’s response!

Note: the part below Gator’s reply with the yellow highlighting is just Msloxictea’s standard conspiratorial response.  Just ignore it.

But get a load of Gator’s denial!  Of course she doesn’t “know anything about” @murphysmom67′s opinion about vaccines!  Gator’s too laszy to do any background research on the people she touts as “medical experts” on her blog!  All she requires is that the said “expert” hates on Sophie Hunter Cumberbatch and touts the haters narrative!  Period!  

And the next point proves what BULLSHIT everything MM67 and Gator are pushing!  Gator freely admits that MM67′s information is “gleaned from helping my friend (she is referencing AELTRI) to help Ben”.  That means MM67 knows NOTHING except what AELTRI has told her!  

And then we get to the heart of the matter - GATOR doesn’t give a shit what facts the anon presents!  Because this is all about Haters reinforcing their narrative!  It isn’t about seeking the truth.  It’s about them living in their echo chamber.  And getting attention.

And here’s the final kicker - 

Well, MM67, this anon has a right to see your opinion about Covid WHEN YOU PUBLISH IT ON A PUBLIC FORUM LIKE TWITTER!

And if there’s any doubt Janice Allen is Murphysmom67, here’s the woman herself saying they are one and the same (so don’t come crying about someone “doxxing” you)...

So sweetie, if you don’t like others finding out about your anitvax opinions, that’s just too bad.  You’re the one who published it for everyone to see!  

And that leads us back to CREDIBILITY.  Murphysmom67 you have ZERO credibility as a “medical professional” and you CERTAINLY don’t know SHIT about BC’s life or medical history!  Your “source” is a delusional woman who has NEVER met BC and seems to have deranged ideas about connecting with him in a fevered dream.

[spanditamickey]

I say I can't do this any more. That it's over. You don't reply. Not then. Maybe you never will. I stare at the screen. The light fades, and it finally dies into darkness.

~ The Nine Chambered Heart by Janice Pariat

🌼🌼

#ninechamberedheart #janicepariat #trending #instagramreaders #amazingreads #indiareads

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[jxrm]

book log - 2022

his last wife by gia pere

a very merry bromance by lyssa kay adams

behind the messages by ella-may williams

the wife upstairs by rachel hawkins

pride, prejudice, & turkish delight by k.c. mccormick ciftci

the long way to a small, angry planet by becky chambers

honeymoon for one by rachel bowdier

let it snow by beth moran

resting scrooge face by meghan quinn

window shopping by tessa bailey

the family upstairs by lisa jewell

poster girl by veronica roth

x by sue grafton

queen bee by nina manning

the vibrant years by sonali dev

untamed by glennon doyle

book lovers by emily henry

the zookeeper's wife by diane ackerman

daisy darker by alice feeney

mating in captivity by esther perel

miss meteor by tehlor kay mejia

carrie soto is back by taylor jenkins reid

a good girl's guide to murder by holly jackson

the lesbiana's guide to catholic school by sonora reyes

fat chance, charlie vega by crystal maldonado

lakelore by anne-marie mclemore

you love me by caroline kepnes

happiness for beginners by katherine center

not my daughter by barbara delinsky

last tang standing by lauren ho

no filter and other lies by crystal maldonado

the southern book club's guide to slaying vampires by grady hendrix

does my body offend you? by mayra cuevas

i'm the girl by courtney summers

the expatriates by janice y.k. lee

emily, gone by bette lee crosby

after hours on milagro street by angelina m. lopez

i'm glad my mom died by jennette mccurdy

my best friend's exorcism by grady hendrix

#murderfunding by gretchen mcneil

looking for jane by heather marshall

midwife murders by james patterson

final cut by s.j. watson

darling rose gold by stephanie wrobel

all the pretty people by barbara freethy

when i was you by minka kent

been there, married that by gigi levangie

malibu rising by taylor jenkins reid

covery story by susan rigetti

the paris apartment by lucy foley

stiletto sisterhood by fallon demornay

her perfect secret by t.j. brearton

take a chance on me by beth moran

the watcher girl by minka kent

no conscience by phil m. williams

reminders of him by colleen hoover

her last move by john marrs

we were dreamers by simu liu

the book of cold cases by simone st. james

all i stole from you by ava bellows

violeta by isabel allende

once of us is next - karen m. mcmanus

just the way you are by beth moran

the latecomer by jean hanff jorelitz

klara and the sun by kazuo ishiguro

the sorority murder by allison brennan

one italian summer by rebecca serle

what lies between us by john marrs

the maid by nita prose

sex and vanity by kevin kwan

funny you should ask by elissa sussman

the seven day switch by kelly harms

three perfect liars by heidi perks

everything must go by camille pagan

no ex before marriage by portia macintosh

the other mother by carol goodman

california girls by susan mallery

one little secret by cate holahan

apples never fall by liane moriarty

the promise by teresa driscoll

ghost boy by martin pistorius

close to you by ana jolene

oona out of order by margarita montimore

the stepson by jane renshaw

all adults here by emma straub

his & hers by alice feeney

mexican gothic by silvia moreno-garcia

anatomy by dana schwartz

the resting place by camilla sten

will by will smith

good me, bad me by ali land

while we were dating by jasmine guillory

the lion's den by katherine st. john

when we left cuba by chanel cleeton

left neglected by lisa genova

the suspect by fiona barton

park avenue summer by renee rosen

group therapy by b.b. easton

the half sister by sandie jones

shipped by angie hockman

when we were sisters by emilie richards

the chain by adrian mckintu

not a happy family by shari lapena

clap when you land by elizabeth acevedo

if the shoe fits by julie murphy

the girlfriend by michelle frances

let me hear a rhyme by tiffany d. jackson

death by dumpling by vivien chien

yoga pant nation by laurie gelman

the cousins by karen m. mcmanus

in a holidaze by christina lauren

people we meet on vacation by emily henry

the candy house by jennifer egan

you've been volunteered by laurie gelman

broken by jenny lawson

you can't be serious by kal penn

the final girl support group by grady hendrix

home before dark by riley sager

one of us is lying by kate m. mcmanus

the vanishing half by brit bennett

the cross and the switchblade by david wilkerson

the henna wars by adiba jaigridar

the fashion orphans by randy susan meyers

the good girl by mary kubica

the comeback by ella berman

the magician's nephew by c.s. lewis

the bright lands by john fram