#the cable will keep going zoom

[layover-linux-official]

PSA: wired Ethernet can easily be a speed miracle when you're used to WiFi.

It affects reliability too. I literally needed to get a dock for my work laptop, because the laptop didn't have an Ethernet jack of its own, the router is on the other end of the house, and the packet loss was basically too severe for video calls. Now call clarity is a dream.

Finally, wired networks are easier to conclusively secure, if you're in a situation where you need to worry about that.

I love the convenience of WiFi, both mediums have times and places where they shine, but don't let nobody tell you that cabling is old-fashioned. Cabling is hardcore, it's performance, it's ricer shit - but the kind that's pretty accessible to a wide audience of skill levels. And for physics reasons, it always will be.

Why the hell did I suffer with WiFi for more than a decade instead of just buying a damn Ethernet cable? It's like 3 dollars for 30 meters of cable, why the fuck did I not do this sooner? 6 MB/sec downloads?! I didn't even know Internet could be this fast, and I've had it all along. Why didn't anyone tell me that there's THIS big of a difference between plugging in directly and usi g wifi?

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

Tiktok Influencer!Gojo Satoru—“She’s a 10 but…” [nxt]

@ sexygojosatoru has made a new post:

“she’s a 10 but…” challenge w/ my students :D (ft. nanamin) #fyp

00:03 =⬤--------------------------- 04:14 ⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻

[The video opens with a hand pulling back from the camera to reveal Gojo in the frame. He’s lounging in a cream cable-knit sweater, his signature black circular glasses perched low on his nose. His sky-blue eyes gleam mischievously as he leans closer to the lens, a playful grin stretching across his face. His snowy hair, slightly tousled, flops over his forehead until he sweeps it back with a flick of his pale fingers.]

Gojo: (whispering) “Gojo here! So, today, I’m doing the ‘She’s a 10 but…’ challenge with my adorable students. I plan to stir the pot and, maybe, start a little drama. You know, the usual. Let’s go!”

[The camera cuts abruptly to Yuji’s dorm room. Yuji sits at his desk in front of his PC, wearing a baggy white tee and a chunky blue headset with cat ears. He swivels to face the camera, his expression a mix of curiosity and confusion. Nobara and Megumi’s voices chatter faintly in the background.]

Gojo: “Yuji, my sweet boy, ‘She’s a 10 but… she has a flat ass.’”

Yuji: “Sensei—wha—wait, what?”

[Cut to Yuji again, this time with his headset slung around his neck and his gamer chair spun fully toward the camera.]

Gojo: “—et it?”

Yuji: (grinning, earnest) “Got it! Hi, guys! If she’s a 10 and she’s got a small butt, she’s still a 10. Personality matters more!”

[He throws up an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Gojo groans exaggeratedly.]

Gojo: “Let’s try this again. ‘He’s a 10 but… he hates the Human Earthworm series’.”

[Yuji pauses, scratching his chin as he furrows his brows, clearly torn.]

Yuji: “Hmm… then he’s, like, an 8? I’d be lowkey hurt, but hey, people have different tastes, so I guess I can’t get too mad about it.”

Gojo: “Boooring! Yuji, you’re too pure. This is terrible content. NEXT!”

[The camera swings over to Nobara, who’s striking a pose with one hand on her hip. She’s wearing a plum long-sleeved shirt and flashes a peace sign with a sly grin.]

Gojo: “Nobara! Save me from Yuji’s snoozefest. ‘She’s a 10 but… she’s domineering.’”

Nobara: “Domineering? Like bossy? Assertive?”

Gojo: “Exactly! Dominatrix vibes—minus the leather and whips.”

[Nobara raises an eyebrow, her cheeks faintly pink.]

Nobara: “Still a 10. No shame in a strong woman.”

Gojo: “veery interesting. Okay, ‘He’s a 10 but he’s a hardcore tsundere.’”

[Nobara’s playful grin melts into a grimace.]

Nobara: “Ugh, no. That type of trope is so annoying. Just say you like me already and stop wasting my time. That’s a 4.”

[The camera zooms dramatically to Megumi, lounging on Yuji’s bed with his phone. He glances up, unimpressed, then back at the screen. Gojo lets out a snicker before turning the camera back to Nobara.]

Gojo: “‘He’s a 10 but he’s an eater.””

[Nobara’s face scrunches.]

Nobara: “Oh, Gojo, that's not—CUT!”

[The camera cuts back to Nobara, laughing uncontrollably.]

Gojo: “‘—uck. I meant, ‘He’s a 10 but he ingests questionable things—like he’ll put just about anything in his mouth.””

Nobara:“Wait—like, eats anything? Oh, ew! Yuji vibes. That’s a 1.”

Yuji: (off-screen) “HEY!”

Gojo: “In Yuji’s defense, he has a reason! It’s not like he’s on My Strange Addiction munching on soap.”

Nobara: (deadpan) “Sensei, that’s rich coming from someone whose best friend swallowed ba—”

[The camera cuts abruptly to Megumi, now glaring daggers at Gojo.]

Gojo: “MOVING ON! Say hi to the fans, Megumi. They keep asking if you’re single.”

Megumi: (dry) “Pay me for these features.”

Gojo: “There’s that tsundere charm! ‘She’s a 10 but she interrupts you constantly.’”

Megumi: (flatly) “4. Maybe a 6 if she knows when to stop.”

[The camera swings back to Nobara.]

Gojo (sing-song): “Nobara’s a 4~!”

[Nobara lunges at Gojo, snatching the camera to turn it on him.]

Nobara: ”‘He’s a 10 but he’s like 30 years old, lives off sweets, and takes mirror selfies daily.’”

Yuji: (off-screen) “DRAG HIM!”

Megumi: (smirking) “1.”

[Gojo gasps theatrically and grabs the camera back.]

Gojo: “Betrayed by my own students! No soba for dinner!”

Yuji and Nobara: (wailing) “NOOO!”

Megumi: (shrugging) “It’s not like I said 0, could’ve been worse Gojo-Sensei.”

[The camera sweeps across the room: Nobara stands with her fingers clasped in a dramatic pleading gesture, while Yuji has collapsed to his knees, wailing theatrically. Megumi stands nearby with arms crossed, raising an eyebrow as if to question everyone’s sanity. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, the faint creak of a door interrupts the chaos.]

Nanami: (off-screen) “What’s going on in here?”

[The camera turns to reveal Nanami standing in the doorway, tie slightly loosened.]

Gojo: (grinning ear to ear) “Perfect timing, Nanamin! We’re doing the ‘She’s a 10 but…’ challenge. Your turn!”

Nanami: (deadpan) “If I play along, will you stop asking me to hang out this weekend?”

Gojo: (mock serious) “Deal.”

[Text appears on-screen: “I lied LOL had my toes crossed XD”]

Gojo: (gleefully) “Alright, Nanamin, first question: ‘She’s a 10 but she corrects your grammar.’”

Nanami: (calmly) “A 10. Grammar is important.”

Gojo: “Ugh, buzzkill. Okay, ‘She’s a 10 but she won’t go down on you.’”

Nanami: (stone-faced) “Still a 10. Boundaries matter.”

[Gojo spins the camera toward himself, pouting dramatically.]

Gojo: (to the camera) “This video is flopping! Okay, last one, Grandpa: ‘He’s a 10 but he’s taller and stronger than you.’”

Nanami: (without hesitation) “Still a 10. I’m secure enough in myself to not feel threatened by someone else’s physical attributes.”

Gojo: (waving the camera back to himself) “You guys heard it here first! Nanamin’s totally into me.”

[He smirks, wiggling his eyebrows and delivering a cheesy wink at the lens.]

Gojo: (teasing) “I mean, who can resist my—”

[A collective groan erupts from the students off-screen. The camera shakes, suggesting a struggle, before cutting abruptly to black.]

04:14 =================⬤ 04:14 ⇆ㅤ ◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷ㅤ ↻

[bkd-b3ans]

Boothill keeps messing up his revolver from all the slapping and you have to fix it

Heya, love For Boothill too big, so I've started writing something for the first time. Sorry for any mistakes, literally never wrote a fanfic before.

Ship: Boothill x mechanic reader (gn, but possible masc leaning)

Warnings: none, it's just a bit of banter

Chapter(s?) : just one part of a long thing I want to do. I will accompany this with art too of my oc later down the line.

"Boothill, can you stay still for one moment?" You said, clear annoyance in your voice as you almost dropped the small pins you had to hold with a pair of tweezers inside the cowboys disassembled arm.

You were trying to fix his revolver, which so happened to get jammed again due to his recklessness in fighting. You've told him so many times to stop slapping it into place so aggressively, that the springs and pins inside it are going to get worn out faster or shifted out of their place, but those pleas always fell onto deaf ears.

"M'bad sugar, it just gets sooo boring stayn' still like this for so fudging long." He said, rolling his eyes and slumping back down in his chair, tapping the fingers of his other hand onto the arm rest.

He always had these tics of his when getting fixed, which, to a degree, you could understand. After all, sometimes his repairs could take a few minutes or entire days where he'd have to do nothing but stay in your workshop, connected to your many machines in order to ensure that everything is running optimally. By now, he came so often that you could confidently just run your business on his funds alone.

"It won't take that long this time-" you adjusted the magnifying glasses on your nose, tapping the edge to zoom in a bit more, your steady hand placing the tiny pin inside it's hole "Luckily it was just a few pins that got out of their place. Other than that, your body seems to function pretty well."

He heard that little sigh of relief you sometimes did when checking his systems. It was a bitch and a half to fix them, and you were about the only mechanic not affiliated with the IPC that he could trust not to install some weird virus into his body.

" Well, what can I say, lady luck still riddin' shotgun with me I reckon. Can't say the same 'bout those jolly good fellows from the IPC." he let out a prideful scoff tipping his hat "I reckon their faces look better now with a few bullets between their teeth.

You shook your head, already used to his rants about the IPC and his hunt for revenge. Whilst you could appreciate his enthusiasm, you had yet to pry into the issue as to why. Despite all the days and hours spent with him, working on his body and listening to his rants, you had yet to be told the reason for all of this.

"As long as it is their face and not yours. After all, you're my number one customer~" you have him a wink, sticking your tongue at him playfully. Boothill nearly laughed, trying to say something smart back, but he was cut short by you suddenly slapping the revolver back in it's place, giving it a few spins before closing the paneling around it

"All seems to work well now Boots. Again, please stop slapping this thing into place like it owes you money. Your body may be made out of quality stuff, but it's not immune to your own idiocy."

"Hah, as if, that thing works better with a little tough love"

He didn't even have to look at you to feel the knives you were starring at him from behind your glasses.

"Besides, if I were to be careful, what excuses would I have to come pay ye a visit from time to time? Eh, sugar?"

You hated that shit eating smirk he had on his face sometimes. You just knew he enjoyed teasing and annoying you. It was part of your friendship at this point.

"One day your recklessness will be your death"

Standing up, you went to disconnect him from the machines he was hooked up, pulling out the cables from his back one by one.

"Aww, do I sense some worry in yer tone, darling? I'm flattered a-"

He couldn't finish his sentence as you tugged on his hat, pulling it over his face. Boothill couldn't help but laugh.

"Fine fine, I'll stop. Fudge me you can be tough to love sometimes. How much do I owe ya?" he asked, finally being able to stand up and adjust his hat.

"40k, do you want to put this on your tab again or just pay upfront"

"Just put it on my tab darling, I'll pay it once I'm back from this assignment"

You sighed. He always picked that option, but he always paid eventually, so you weren't too worried. What worried you us where the money came from sometimes. But what can you do, money is money after all.

"Fine, I'll see you next time Boots. And hey, bring me something nice from your travels, I might give you a discount too"

"What do I look like? A magpie?" he scoffed.

"You look more like a shark, but sure. Anyway, counting on you, Boots"

You gave him a friendly pat on the back, the cowboy tipping his hat to you before leaving, making you wonder sometimes in what part of the galaxy he's going to end up to next time every time he left your workshop.

[flamingpudding]

Part 3 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

<<1 Previous Next

Feral brother of mine

When Damien first saw the video from Todd's helmet he only thought of his older brother as an imbecile that apparently couldn't handle children that was until Drake paused the video on the child's face before the video cut off.

Then Richard pointed out the similarities to Damien and of course his first thought was that his mother had made another clone again that they would need to dispose of. That was until he took a closer look at the image when Drake zoomed in. It was still blurry but Damien would recognise that face anywhere and in any state.

Despite his memory being faded it was the face of someone he never wanted to forget and would let freely hunt his dreams. Even if it was to recall the good times or even the bad times through nightmares. Freckles that mirrored constellations and scar by the ear from a training session when the others' dodging ability had not yet been up to par when they were five. Hair longer than his own and less tameable.

Danyal Al Ghul.

His twin that he killed at the age of eight when their grandfather forced them into a fight to death. This was not a simple clone of Damien himself and the teen was pretty sure that his mother must have lost it. Because what else then a clone of his own brother could this be, she probably must have preserved some of Danyal's DNA if not his entire body for this. He must also applaud her cruelty, for the clone was at the exact age his brother had died at.

He does not know why nor how his mother had managed to cause glowing Lazarus green eyes. None of his clones had ever shown these before but a part of him didn't want to know. It already made him sick enough to know that his mother would go so far as to clone Danyal.

All he wanted was to get rid of this cruel clone that wore his long dead brother's face. The knowledge of his brother was something Damien held dear. It was something that belonged to him only and the burden of his death was not something he ever wanted to share either. Besides what use would it be to his family to mourn a member they never would have gotten to meet.

Even as he glared at Todd, who had let loose the feral clone. He could not bring himself to tell them that this was most likely not just a simple clone of himself.

"Come on guys, there is a child running around the Bat Cave. You can fight later about how to safely keep the boy in check."

Clicking his tongue he turned away from his older siblings and drew out his katana. "<tt> I will get rid of that thing myself."

A thing, that was what it was. Damien didn't need his personal feelings or his memories of a twin that could smile brighter than the desert sun despite their pain, get in the way of his rationality. He could not allow this mockery of his twin brother to live on.

He went for the darker areas of the Cave knowing the league trained mind and he was in luck as he was the first to find the feral child hidden away in the area that lead to the medbay. By now the thing was even armed. Damien recognised the dagger as one of his training once, he probably had accidentally left it out of its casing after training right before patrol.

The ex-league prodigy did not give the clone time to react as he attacked without warning. Chasing it through the Bat Cave as it avoided his attacks yet made no move to attack him the way it had Todd. At times the way it dodged made Damien stutter slightly something that never happened before. He slashed at it, ignoring his siblings that shouted for him to stop from the side lines. Ignoring the flashes in his mind of a fight years ago that was similar yet so different.

"I will not let this mockery run free." He muttered pointing his blade as it hissed at him in return. What a feral thing it was, he waited for it to make the first move this time. Clones were not perfect, their forms were lacking, They might retain skills of their original but they rarely were the same let alone cable of thinking outside of what their creator, his mother wanted. He pointedly ignored anything he new about certain clones. They weren't created by his mother, therefore did not count in regards to his conclusion. Yet it was painful seeing this mockery of his dead brother appearing like a perfect copy.

The stance it held with the dagger, despite the feral hissing and movements, it was the exact same his brother had. Sword stances, like martial arts stances had a basic form, every wielder learned and then developed further into their own unique one with time. Danyal had one where he tended to hold the dagger or even swords backwards in his left hand while his right arm covered his empty side with a slight tilt to the back, always ready to reach for any weapon he would carry in hidden pockets on his back.

It was painful to see this clone, this thing mimicking his brother's stand this perfectly. Damien could only narrow his eyes in determination, or was it desperation by now? This was just one more reason to get rid of it. It just hurt even more when with a quick gaze towards the hand that held the dagger Damien also noticed a bad habit his brother had always retained and the league had also never been able to train out of him. It was a small habit, unnoticeable if you wouldn't look for it, yet dangerous to the sword / dagger wielder if they were inexperienced.

Danyal tended to let his thumb rest against the guard if the blade had one or against the blade itself even if it didn't have one. He knows that his twin used to have scaring on his thumb from this habit, especially from their early training years.

This thing was even imitating his brother's habit.

He wanted it gone. Rip it apart and present it to his mother with all the anger and grief it brought to him.

"Guys stop Damien now! That is not a clone!" He heard Drake yell from where the Batcomputer was but he didn't care. This was a clone, so he lunged at the it again. Ignoring how the clone had studied him like he had it. Ignoring how its stance had changed the longer they had watched each other and how that thing let its guard down all of a sudden.

"Damien! Stop!"

It dropped all defenses and Damien could only see that as his chance to deal the final blow to get rid of it. But what he didn't expect despite the dropped defenses was for the clone to also just drop the dagger, close its eyes and smile. The same smile that still hunted his nightmares. His mind flashed back to eight years ago.

"Demon brat! Calm the fuck down!"

The blade stopped inches from the same fatal placement that had killed his brother before. Drake and Richard were right behind him while Todd was by the clone's side gripping at the blade with his bare hands, most likely bleeding already.

"Why?" Damien uttered quietly, his eyes trained on the thing. Richard must have thought that his question had been directed towards them stopping him but that wasn't the case.

"Look Dami, how about listening to what Tim found out first before we decide what to do with that child?"

"Not you." He couldn't help but snap back at them as he withdrew his katana, hearing Todd mutter something about sharp blades and bandaids as well as several curses under his breath. His eyes stayed on the thing. "Why would you let me kill you? Why drop your defence ces? Why not dodge?"

The thing titled its head its glowing green eyes were trained on Damien and he noticed how they flickered into a blue that was so familiar yet so different with the way they glowed. It made chirping noises before it whispered something.

"ahbak, Dami"

Damien froze for a moment there at the quiet words the thing had whispered. How was he supposed to react now? Was this even a clone, no he knew this was a clone. There was no way Danyal was alive let alone still eight years old. He had killed his own brother, he had held him in his own arms as Danyal took his final breath, smiling at him and uttering the same words he had just heard again after so many years.

Even if Danyal had survived somehow then he should be the same age as him. Not the age he had died at. Besides, their grandfather would have never allowed them to use the pits to revive his twin.

"FUCK!"

Intentionally or not Todd's outcry had ripped him out of his thoughts by a rather pathetic yowl of pain. It was like a switch had been flipped in the clone's mind as his brother had reached out to probably detain it again. The moment Todd had touched him, the thing had bitten into his hand before letting go, hissing and running away from them once more.

But instead of running after that thing Damien stood frozen in place, his mind still racing. He could feel Richard's hands on his shoulders, grounding the teenager with the warmth they provided. "You okay there Baby Bird? You seem rather out of it suddenly."

"<tt> I am fine." His only offered answer, ignoring the worried looks he was getting as he moved to wipe Todd's blood off his blade. He needed a distraction before his mind became any more chaotic and unreasonable. "What did Drake find out?"

"Right… you sure you want to hear that right now?" Giving Richard an unimpressed stare, the oldest sighed looking over towards Drake.

"Well I got good news and probably bad news." Side eyeing his brother Damien kept silent waiting for him to continue.

"I can safely say that the child is not a clone. His DNA does not 100% match yours. It differs too much but - and this is where it's probably bad news - it matches with you to 45%, with a matching to Bruce to about 50%, same with Talia. If I run a paternity test I am sure it would be a hit for Bruce and Talia."

Damien swallowed taking in that information, knowing what it meant. Was he horrified? Yes. Did it also awaken a strange sort of hope? Also, Yes.

"But there was a third compartment of the child's DNA structure which was impossible to test. It could even corrupt DNA samples if not taken apart from the rest. It probably has something to do with the green specs I found in his blood too. So I ran a substance analysis and - you probably won't like this - but it got a hit from a substance we have recorded in our database."

"What substance?" Damien knew, he just knew he wouldn't like the next words Drake would say. He could feel Richard squeezing his shoulder as if to help him keep stable.

"Lazarus Water. It matched with what we have recorded from the Lazarus Pits."

"Drake, are you telling me that after eight years, my mother who apparently had preserved my dead twin brother's body, dropped said body into the Lazarus Pits to revive him and then drop him off with Todd of all people?"

"Yes, wait… dead twin brother's body?"

[poipoipoi-2016]

Apropos of nothing

If you are the techiest person in the house (and for many of you, this is not techy at all), today is a good day to build a pihole thanks to Google's new TLDs.

For the record, this straight up stopped Dad from getting computer viruses when coupled with the Ublock browser extension, so I will volunteer my time to get you set up. We will find an evening and do a Zoom call. I am serious.

Prerequisities:

Before you start, this will be way way easier if your router has a magic way to:

Set static IP addresses

Set a custom DNS server

If you can't do this, I'm not saying you're stuck, but there's some non-obvious failure modes and maybe it's time to buy a better router.

Parts:

Raspberry Pi 4B. 2GB if you just want to set and forget, 8GB if you want to do more things on this than just your pihole (Coughs in a MarioKart box) -> https://www.raspberrypi.com/products/raspberry-pi-4-model-b/

Spare USB-C charger if you don't have one already. I'm a fan of https://www.amazon.com/Argon-USB-C-Power-Supply-Switch/dp/B0919CQKQ8/ myself

A microSD card at least UHS class 3 or better. 32 is fine for just a pihole, I have a 512 in some of mine that I use for more stuff. https://www.tomshardware.com/best-picks/raspberry-pi-microsd-cards

Some method of flashing the card if you don't have one (Some come with SD to micro-SD adapters, if not a USB to SD/micro-SD adapter is about $10 off Amazon)

If you really feel like going nuts, go buy yourself an Argon case and then very very carefully never ever install the software for the fan that does nothing. The value is entirely in having a big giant brick that is self-cooling. If you want to play MarioKart, I would consider this a requirement. https://www.amazon.com/Argon-Raspberry-Aluminum-Heatsink-Supports/dp/B07WP8WC3V

Setup:

Do yourself a favor and ignore all the signs telling you to go get Raspbian and instead go grab an ISO of Ubuntu 64-bit using RPi Imager. Because Raspbian cannot be upgraded across version WHY U DO THIS

Download Rpi Imager, plug the microSD card into your computer,

Other General Purpose OS -> Ubuntu -> Ubuntu 22.04 LTS

So now you have an operating system on an SD card.

Assemble the case if you bought one, plug in the SD card, power supply, ethernet cable if you have one or mouse and (mini) HDMI cable if you don't. If you bought that Argon case, you can just plug a keyboard (server OS means no mouse gang; In this house, we use the Command Line) and HDMI cable into the Pi. Turn it on.

Gaining access

The end state of this is that your pi is:

Connected to the internet by cable or wifi

You can SSH to it (Also not scary)

If you plugged in an ethernet cable, once it's done booting (1-2 minutes?), you should be able to ssh to "ubuntu@<the IP of the system>". Look it up in your router. It may make sense to give the static IP NOW to keep it stable.

If you've never used SSH before, I think the standard is Putty on Window or you can just open a terminal in Mac. (And if you know enough Linux to have a Linux computer, why are you reading this?)

If you didn't plug it in, and need to setup the wifi, there's magic incantations to attach it to the wifi and to be quite blunt, I forget what they are.

Your username is ubuntu, your password is ubuntu and then it will ask you to make a new password. If you know the meaning of the phrase "keypair-based access", it may make sense to run `ssh-copy-id` at this point in time.

Router settings (part 1)

Give your new Pi a static IP address, and reboot your pi (as simple as typing in `sudo reboot`).

Open a new SSH session to the pihole on the new address.

Installing pihole

Open up an SSH session and

curl -sSL https://install.pi-hole.net | bash

This is interactive. Answer the questions

When it's done, on your other computer, navigate to <the ip>/admin

Login with the password you just set. Router settings part 2

Give your new Pi a static IP address then point your router at that address

Set the DNS servers to the static IP

Then ensure you're blocking something. Anything.

Then do what you want to do. You'll probably need to whitelist some sites, blacklist some more, but the main thing is going to be "Adding more list of bad sites". Reddit has some lists.

And... enjoy.

/But seriously, there's some stuff to do for maintenance and things. I wasn't joking about the pair setup.

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

33. Renov-log

Note: Jeez, we’re close to the end now…

Masterlist here

After months of touring, recording, and relentless promotion, the girls of aespa finally had some downtime. Considering that Whiplash would be their last release of this year and their world tour success, they managed to snag a good break.

To be exact, 2 weeks.

Naturally, they decided it was time for a major change:

Renovating their dorm.

Of course, Y/n, who had barely recovered from the last leg of their tour, suddenly found himself roped into this mess once again. Because despite having muscles on their own, they just want to hang out with him more.

-

It all started innocently enough. The girls were gathered in the living room, flipping through catalogs, each with vastly different ideas on what their “new space” should look like. Y/n sat at the head of the table, already feeling a headache forming.

“Are we seriously doing this?” Y/n asked, glancing from one girl to the next, noting their determined expressions.

“Yup,” Karina said, not even looking up as she circled a bright red couch in a magazine. “We’re over this old setup. It’s time for something new.”

Winter chimed in with a deadpan tone, her face buried behind her phone. “I’ve been staring at that peeling wallpaper for two years. It’s haunting my dreams at this point.”

“Ok, you should’ve told me that earlier, Jeong.” Y/n sighed.

Ningning grinned, bouncing in her seat. “We need more colour. And a karaoke machine!”

Y/n blinked at that last part. “A karaoke machine? Why?”

“Yep,” Giselle said, casually pointing at the list in front of him. “Right next to the beanbags and mini-fridge. Oh, and let’s not forget, we want a cozy reading nook by the window.”

Y/n rubbed his temples. “This is getting out of hand…I don’t study architecture here.”

Winter strolled in, looking like she’d just had the most brilliant idea. “We should film a vlog about the whole renovation process. You know, a ‘Day in the Life’ kind of thing. It’ll be hilarious watching Y/n try to maintain some level of sanity.”

Y/n’s head snapped up. “Wait, what now?”

Karina and Ningning shared a glance, their mischievous grins widening.

“We’re doing it,” Winter declared. “Vlog day tomorrow.”

-

The next day, the real madness began. Furniture deliveries were scheduled, paint samples were splattered across walls, and half the dorm was covered in dust as the renovation began. But to make things worse, Giselle, true to her word, pulled out her camera, ready to document the entire thing for their channel.

“Alright guys, welcome to today's 'Reno-vlog'!’” Giselle announced with far too much enthusiasm. “We’re going to make this place look brand new, with the help of our lovely manager, Y/n!”

Y/n appeared in the background, balancing a stack of paint cans. “I didn’t sign up for this,” he grumbled, before nearly tripping over an extension cord.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” Karina laughed, zooming the camera in on his frazzled expression.

“I’m fine,” Y/n muttered, but the slight panic in his eyes said otherwise. “Just… someone please move the cables.”

As the girls split up into teams, the dorm turned into a scene straight out of a comedy show. Giselle and Ningning took charge of painting the living room, while Karina and Winter were busy assembling furniture. Y/n? Well, he was stuck in the middle of it all, trying his best to keep everything under control.

“Giselle! That’s not the right shade of blue!” Y/n yelled from across the room as he glanced at the paint sample. “You picked ‘Ocean Breeze,’ but that looks like ‘Misty Sky!’”

Giselle shrugged, completely unfazed. “Eh, blue is blue. It’ll look fine once it dries.”

“Right… because drying magically changes the colour.” Y/n sighed, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Karina and Winter struggled with an IKEA bookshelf in the corner.

“I’m telling you, this part goes here,” Winter said, holding a screw in one hand and a wooden panel in the other.

Karina looked equally as confused. “Are you sure? It looks upside down.”

“It’s not upside down,” Winter huffed, trying to force the pieces together. “I’ve done this before.”

Y/n watched from the doorway, shaking his head. “I give it five minutes before that thing collapses.”

Sure enough, the bookshelf stood triumphantly for about three minutes before one of the sides gave out, sending the entire structure crashing to the floor. Karina and Winter just stared at it, shocked into silence.

“Told you so.” Y/n deadpanned.

Ningning, however, was quick to pounce. “I got that on camera!” she cackled, pointing her phone at the wreckage.

“Thanks for the moral support, idiot,” Winter grumbled, crossing her arms.

Y/n raised his hands defensively. “Ya, you’re the ones who refused to look at the manual.”

Karina smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s right, Minjeong. We should’ve listened to the professional.”

Winter rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Fine, fine. Y/n wins this round.”

“Of course, one of my various W” The victorious manager patted his shoulder.

-

The painting was no better. The girls had chosen a variety of bright colors, each with a specific vision in mind. But when Ningning knocked over an entire can of ocean-blue paint onto the living room floor, Y/n nearly lost it.

“Yizhuo!” Y/n yelled, staring at the growing puddle of paint. “That was oil-based!”

Ningning winced, backing away. “Oops?”

Y/n sighed, already calculating how many hours it would take to clean that up. “I’m going to need a mop... and therapy after this.”

Giselle, ever the opportunist, swung the camera towards him. “And here we have Y/n, reaching the breaking point of this renovation project.”

The girls snickered, their laughter only growing louder as Y/n tried—and failed—to clean the paint with a completely inadequate rag.

“You know,” Winter teased as she filmed the scene with her phone, “this would make for some quality blackmail footage.”

"Another one?!" Y/n looked up from the floor, narrowing his eyes. “If that video ever sees the light of day, I’m throwing all of your new furniture out the window.”

Winter just shrugged, a sly grin on her face. “Tsk, whatever. But I’m still keeping the footage.”

-

Despite the setbacks, the renovation eventually started to come together. The walls were painted (after several attempts), the furniture was somewhat assembled, and the dorm slowly began to resemble a place they could all live in. It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs.

Karina gestured to the new couches proudly. “See, Y/n? I told you it would look good.”

Y/n nodded, admiring the final product. “It actually does. You guys did well.”

Ningning, of course, couldn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Don’t forget, we captured your meltdown on camera for the vlog.”

“Yeah, Y/n, you were like this close to pulling your hair out,” Giselle added, laughing.

Y/n rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. “Great. I’m sure that’ll be the highlight AND the thumbnail of the video.”

-

Later that evening, after the chaos had died down and the renovation halted for the day, Y/n found himself in the kitchen, trying to salvage a snack from the fridge. As he fumbled around, Winter quietly walked in, leaning against the counter with a playful smile.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked, her voice soft but teasing.

"Just... trying to find something edible," Y/n replied, pulling out a carton of milk and sniffing it cautiously. "I'm about to get triggered out there."

Winter chuckled, watching him with an amused expression. "You know, you didn’t do too bad today. Kept your cool, mostly."

Y/n grinned, shaking his head. "Mostly, huh?"

There was a beat of silence between them, and Y/n couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. Ever since the "smooch prank," and his permission approved by the other girls, his feelings toward Winter had been... complicated.

He wasn’t sure where they stood or if it even meant anything to her. But he found himself increasingly flustered whenever she was around, her presence lingering in his thoughts.

Winter seemed to pick up on his awkwardness, her eyes narrowing as she leaned in slightly. “What’s with that look? You’re not still mad about the prank, are you?”

Y/n stammered, suddenly unable to find his words. “Uh, no. Not mad. Just... thinking.”

"Thinking about what?" Winter asked, tilting her head with curiosity.

Y/n nearly choked on his words. “Uh... nothing important.”

Winter smirked knowingly. “Sure, nothing important. You’re such a bad liar, Y/n. Just say that you like my kiss.”

…"I-I"

Before Y/n could respond, Karina popped into the kitchen, breaking the tension. “What’s going on in here? Are you two conspiring without us?”

“You want me to?,” Y/n said quickly, though his voice cracked slightly, betraying his nerves.

Karina raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Uh-huh. Well, just make sure we don’t find out you’re plotting a new prank on us, Minjeong.”

Winter flashed an innocent smile. “Who, me? Never.”

Y/n cleared his throat, desperately trying to change the subject. “So, uh, how’s the vlog going?”

Ningning entered the kitchen just in time to answer that. “It’s gold. The fans are going to love it. Especially the part where you nearly passed out from stress.”

-

As the night wore on, and the chaos of the day finally began to settle, Y/n found himself back in the living room, alone for a moment of peace. He sat on one of the new couches, admiring the final result of their hard work.

The dorm wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it had character. And despite the hiccups, it had been fun, even if he wouldn’t admit it to the girls.

Winter suddenly appeared in the doorway, her hair slightly tousled from the day’s work. “Mind if I sit?”

“Of course,” Y/n said, scooting over to make room for her on the couch.

She plopped down beside him, pulling her legs up underneath her. “You look deep in thought.”

Y/n chuckled. “Just thinking about how close I was to explode in front of you all.”

“Aish, your exaggerated too much,” Winter groaned, but with a soft smile on her lips. “But it was fun. I mean, look at what we did.”

Y/n glanced around the room, nodding. “It does look great…surprisingly.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Winter spoke again, her voice quieter this time. “You know, you’ve been pretty amazing through all this, idiot. I don’t think we say it enough.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. “Mhm…I’m just doing my job.”

“Still,” Winter said, her eyes meeting his. “We’re lucky to have you.”

Y/n felt his heart skip a beat, unsure of how to respond. Before he could muster a response, Winter flashed him a soft, genuine smile that made his heart skip another beat. Her sincerity was something he wasn’t used to handling, especially after all the teasing and chaos the group usually stirred up.

“..Since when you look so womanly…,” he finally said, scratching the back of his neck nervously before ruffling her hair.

"Yaaaa" Winter groaned.

“I’m lucky to have you guys too. Especially you, Jeong."

Winter’s smile grew, but the moment quickly turned awkward when Ningning’s voice echoed from down the hallway. “Hey, Y/n-oppa! Jeong-unnie! You better not be do some funny behaviour in there!”

Y/n groaned inwardly, thankful for the interruption but also wishing for just a little more time to figure out how he was feeling. Winter, on the other hand, chuckled softly, standing up from the couch.

“I guess that’s my cue,” she said with a light laugh, giving Y/n one last glance before heading toward the hallway.

“Goodnight, idiot.”

“Goodnight, crybaby” Y/n replied, his mind still whirling with the events of the day.

-

The next morning, the group wasted no time getting back into their usual antics. After the emotional (and slightly awkward) moment between Y/n and Winter, everything seemed to return to normal — well, as normal as life with aespa could be.

Ningning had already started editing the footage from the day before, giggling every time she came across a particularly chaotic scene.

“Y/n, you look like you’re about to combust,” she teased, playing a clip where Y/n was holding a mop, surrounded by spilled paint and half-assembled furniture.

“I WAS about to combust,” Y/n grumbled, sipping his coffee while trying to avoid looking at the screen. “That paint was everywhere.”

Giselle leaned over Ningning’s shoulder, pointing at the screen. “Oh man, this part’s gold. The bookshelf disaster. I still can’t believe Winter and Karina thought they could build that thing without instructions.”

Karina, who had just walked into the room, waved them off. “It was a learning experience.”

Winter, following behind Karina, raised an eyebrow. “A learning experience in failure, maybe.”

The banter continued as they all sat down for breakfast, but Y/n couldn’t help but steal glances at Winter. There was something about the way she carried herself, so casual yet so sincere, that kept him thinking about the night before. And the prank. And the way she had told him they were lucky to have him.

It wasn’t the first time Winter had caught him off guard with her softer side, but it was the first time he’d felt… different about it.

-

After breakfast, they got back to work on the final touches of the dorm renovation. Y/n found himself in the corner of the living room, trying to assemble a coffee table that had more screws than should be legally allowed.

Winter joined him, kneeling beside him as she attempted to help with the assembly. “Need some backup?”

Y/n chuckled. “As long as you’re reading the instruction, sure.”

Winter gave him a playful nudge, grinning. “Ya, I’m a quick learner, trust me.”

They worked in relative silence, but every now and then, their hands brushed as they both reached for the same tool. Y/n could feel the tension building, the air between them thick with the unsaid.

“So,” Winter said suddenly, breaking the silence, “you’ve been a little quiet lately. What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Y/n hesitated. He wasn’t ready to lay everything on the table, not yet. “Just...wondering what’s after Whiplash and stuff.”

Winter didn’t seem satisfied with his answer but didn’t push further. “Well, we will be alright, but everything is fun now that you’re with us.”

“You said it all the time now.”

“Aish, can’t a lady show her appreciation?” Winter glared, but a giggle followed after.

Y/n’s stomach flipped again. There it was, that sincerity that always caught him off guard. “Thanks, Jeong.”

-

With the renovations nearly complete, the group decided it was time to finish up their “day in the life” vlog. Ningning, as always, took charge of the camera, while the rest of the girls threw themselves into creating as much chaos as possible.

Karina and Giselle staged a fake argument over who got the better new bedroom setup, complete with exaggerated yelling and finger-pointing. Ningning, cackling behind the camera, zoomed in on Y/n’s exasperated face as he tried to mediate the “fight.”

“I’m not a therapist,” Y/n groaned, rubbing his temples. “Can’t we just focus on finishing this?”

Karina crossed her arms, playing up the drama. “No, Y/n! Giselle needs to know I deserve the bigger closet!”

Giselle gasped in mock offense. “Oh, please! I have way more shoes than you do!”

Y/n sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like this is going to be the entire vlog?”

Winter, who had been standing off to the side, caught his eye and gave him a small, knowing smile. Despite the chaos, she seemed to find the situation just as amusing as he did.

-

Later that day, after the cameras were off and the renovation was finally—mostly—done, Y/n found himself back in the kitchen, once again trying to find something to eat. Winter quietly entered the room, as she often did, leaning against the counter.

“You're stealing my snack zone at this point” she teased lightly.

Y/n chuckled, pulling out a box of cereal. “Damn right. This is my domain.”

Winter smiled softly, watching him for a moment before speaking. “You’ve been handling everything really well, you know. The renovations, the vlog, the constant chaos.”

Y/n shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’m surprised my hair is still here.”

Winter’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before she pushed off the counter and stood a little closer to him. “Ya, You’re doing great, Y/n. You’re... important to us.”

Y/n froze, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just nodded, suddenly very interested in pouring cereal into his bowl.

Winter didn’t push further, but as she walked past him to leave the kitchen, her hand brushed his arm, sending a spark of warmth through him. He couldn’t help but watch her retreating figure, his mind racing with thoughts he wasn’t quite ready to confront.

-

That evening, the girls gathered in the living room, excitedly presenting Y/n with a small box wrapped in colorful paper. They had been out earlier that day, under the guise of running errands, but it seemed they had been plotting something else entirely.

“…What’s this?” Y/n asked, holding the box carefully as the girls watched him with expectant smiles.

“A gift,” Karina said, grinning. “For all the hard work you’ve done. Also it’s a bit over 1 year anniversary since you became our manager.”

“Oh.” Y/n widened his eyes. With all the tour planning and nonsense, it slipped his mind that it would’ve been a bit over a year since he first started as Aespa’s manager. Or maybe it was because it wasn’t work but rather just reuniting with his childhood friend and have a fun and inseparable (yet annoying) group.

“I didn’t even realise it has been a year already.” Y/n was awestruck.

“I mean…you did went through a lot. It makes sense you didn’t notice, oppa” Ningning chimed in.

"…I'm not getting fired, am I?"

"Of course not, open it!" Giselle groaned.

Y/n glanced around at them, suspicious but touched. He carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a sleek new watch. It was simple, elegant, and exactly his style.

“Oh sht damn,” Y/n breathed, genuinely surprised. “This is... amazing. Thank you, guys.”

Ningning grinned. “We figured you needed something fancy after all the chaos we put you through this year.”

Winter, who had been standing quietly to the side, stepped forward, her eyes locking onto Y/n’s. “And just so you know, this wasn’t a prank,” she said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. “You really deserve it.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at her words, and for a moment, he forgot all about the chaos of the day. He was just... happy.

"Just gonna say it…" Giselle smirked. "Minjeong suggested it."

"Aeri-unnie!!!!"

[lesb0]

I'm always trying to stay on the cutting edge of every permutation of our constantly evolving visual culture but the elusiveness of every new form makes it difficult for me, even as one of the youngest possible millennials. in fashion, my freshman students are all wearing 2000s or "y2k" fashion: baggy grungy or baby phat hiphop, with an elevated touch of modesty, good color theory, and a stark awareness of bodily proportion. in memes, legendary 00s icon, lisa frank. its embarrassing to follow influencers with over 10 mil, now, as if it breaks the parasocial connection.

someone asked yesterday if tiktok is now the premier vehicle of visual culture. I open tiktok. on one side, a zoomed in interview with the mother of a shooting victim. but the other side is a compilation of slime videos, a woman cutting soap, life hacks, and chinese "smart" product placements. you can hear and see both. this bizarre genre, I can only recognize as content. on social media, content is technically anything you can doomscroll, the action of spending over 2 hours on a social media feed, a for you page, a timeline, a dashboard to tumblr addicts.

I'm watching cable TV with a girl I'm seeing. the ads are remarkably only geared towards boomers and older gen x. but, so is the 'content', bad action movies made for cable and reruns of 80s/90s TV shows, but the exact same show marathoned in hours long successions.

to be an effective art historian, I have to take things from this ever-shifting visual culture and translate it into the equally fickle and amorphous art world... so what does 'content' look like for museum shows? my first 100+ object loan show was in part by a colleague, a younger curator at BAMPFA. a massive exhibition of all female nonbinary artists, from the 60s PoMo feminists to the self obsessed identity displayers of today. I absolutely LOVED it. I had no problem enthusiastically flitting from object to object, frontwards and in reverse twice, to spend special time with all my favorites. a fave professor stopped me. I hadn't even recognized him in the excitement. he looked bewildered, but laughed about how giddy I was. he didn't write any criticism on the show. my boss at the time, our museum director, told me she thought it was "such a big mess". my favorite lesbian professor clutched onto her wife with an anxious look. my lesbian artist friend had panic attack and put his headphones on in a dark corner. on the other hand, the younger undergrad girls from berkeley looked elated and delighted, flitting around and oohing and aahing at my same pace. I learned one of them was an engineering student named erin who needed a feminist pickup from the disouragement in her male dominated field.

so how has the 'content' show, or the art world reception to them, changed in the past 4 years? well for one, it seems like major flagship institutions are dropping the mononym altogether. as the french impressionists take over the east coast, none of shows feature one painter as a sole focus, but curators use juxtapositions to keep people interested. in MoMAs, monoynym shows are reserved for major retrospectives or figuratively and literally, monolith artists like simone leigh. the older art historians are hesitant to adapt to these changes. one of my favorite shows this summer, over 300 very different collection pieces packed onto the floor and across the hall, wasn't enjoyed by any of the critics I know. My dates all hated it. except one, a hot ADHD butch who had a tiktok doomscrolling addiction.

what does this mean for the future of how shows are displayed.... how do museums let go of the traditional princely standard: 3.5 inch hangings with a 25 degree downwards tilt? is it better or worse to compromise museums into messy 17th century curiosity cabinets?

[drunkenskunk]

Liturgicode

The siege of Hell's Gate lasted just over 13 hours.

The bay housing the mechs of the Strategic Response Team was bustling with activity. It wasn't quite as busy as it normally would have been, since a significant number of people were seriously wounded (or dead) in the wake of the cult's attack... but there was simply no time to rest yet. Everyone was painfully aware that the SRT was going to need to head back into action again soon, or else everything was going to get much, much worse. So the sooner the maintenance crews could fix the mechs and get them battle ready, the sooner everyone could leave and get some sleep.

At least, that's how Calamity Havok had sold it to the few wrenchies who had opted to stay. There was three days worth of work to be done, and if anyone knew how to motivate enough people to get it all done in two hours, it was Calamity.

None of this was any concern of Big Red, the heavily damaged Everest mounted in Bay 5. As far as the maintenance crew was concerned, the mech was completely powered down, but truthfully? Not all the way.

The sentient mind of the mech was still very much active, pouring over combat logs and telemetry from the recent fights, and passively aware of the maintenance techs scurrying around him, replacing parts, repairing battle damage, reloading ammunition and depleted core batteries. Every minute or so, Big Red would idly trigger a sensor ping and begin calculating the picosecond returns reflecting against the mass of cables hooked into his chassis and the scaffolding braces keeping him immobile. After the madness of the last several hours, even the giant war machine found this a welcome change of pace.

An alert. Incoming message. Something on the encrypted SRT subnet. Scarlet, his Pilot, was trying to get in touch.

“Hey, Red?” Scarlet asked, the exhaustion evident in her voice even through the crackling transmission.“You readin' me, big man?”

Something was wrong. Scarlet had been awake for nearly 27 hours, and she hadn't eaten in 15, having been sustained on combat stims alone for the past 13 hours of the siege. She should be getting rest, performing the organic equivalent of maintenance (like he was receiving) so they'd be ready for the next fight, not trying to contact him. Why was she trying to contact him?

The apertures of Big Red's left optical unit shuddered.

“I am here. What do you need?” the mech responded over the comm. One of the techs trying to patch damage from a napalm grenade briefly looked up, confusion evident on his face, as if he wasn't sure he'd seen the movement he thought he had.

“Got a question. Out of all your past pilots, who was in the hot seat the longest?” Scarlet asked.

Something about her voice sounded strange. Distant? She wasn't speaking directly into the mic. As data files scrolled on the inside of his mechanical mind, checking and cross-referencing data quickly to make sure the answer was correct, a subroutine was initiated. Linking to station security. Handshake protocol. Access granted. Uplink established. Scanning camera feeds. Ping the transmitter. There.

Big Red took direct control of a camera, two sectors anti-spinward of the hangar. He began panning it over and down, zooming in two steps to get a better look. Scarlet was sitting on a cargo crate, shoulders slumped and head bowed; she was holding her helmet in her hand, apparently speaking into it that way instead of wearing it. Standing above her was Agarin Raankell, the dragon-gene-modded supersoldier on the SRT.

It would appear that Big Red was being pulled into the middle of a heated discussion between the two of them.

“That would be Daniel Brennan, callsign: 'Spy',” he replied, barely two seconds after she asked. Double checking the file before response: sustained over a period of 4128 Cradle Standard days. “We were linked for 11 years.”

“Mmhmm...” Scarlet muttered, barely audible. Big Red attempted to increase the gain from his end. “And tell me again: what happened to him?”

Another pause as more files were accessed. Combat telemetry from Day 4128. The pre-mission briefing predicted a routine reconnaissance patrol with minimal to no OpFor. Pirates had been spotted moving in Grid A-4 approximately 3 local weeks earlier, but had not been seen since. Pilot maneuvered into position at approx. 0240 local and the link was unexpectedly severed. After action report: exit wound on chassis indicated impact from hypervelocity tungsten slug traveling at 3km/s, fired from bearing 315 degrees north of final position.

Big Red's optical unit twitched again.

“Railgun round through the cockpit,” the mech replied tersely, after a slightly longer delay. “Ambush from an unseen opponent. Death was instantaneous.”

“Thanks.” Scarlet looked up at Agarin, pointing at her helmet with her free hand. “Big Red's had dozens of pilots over the last few hundred years. I've checked the files. They all end like that. Every. Single. One. I've only been piloting him for just over a year now. What possible reason could I have to think I'm gonna end any different?”

Big Red refocused the security camera on Scarlet's face now that she wasn't completely hunched over. The whites of her eyes were solid red. Blood was leaking out of her nose and from the edge of her mouth. The interior of her ears were also stained red. Dark stains around various ports in her jacksuit suggest significantly more trauma sustained from the fight than initially observed. Recommend re-calibration of interior sensors to techs at earliest opportunity.

“There is no way you can know that,” Agarin said, his voice slightly muffled. He was quite tall, so the helmet mic couldn't quite pick up his voice, and he was facing away from the security camera mounted in the ceiling. His arms were folded across his chest as he stood in front of her, still as a statue, the only real movement coming from his tail. It was twitching slightly in a manner Big Red did not understand. Was the motion meant to convey nervousness? Annoyance? Apprehension? Was it merely an unconscious tic?

“Look, 'garin...” Scarlet said, and Big Red zoomed the camera out several steps to take in the whole image again. “I... I...” she sighed, lowering her head and shaking it slowly. “Look, I know you got this idea in your head 'bout... about what 'we' are. You seem to think that... we're gonna get our own happily ever after, somehow. No more war. No more fightin'. A life of quiet and peaceful domesticity with a pile of kids... the simple life.” Scarlet looked up at him again. “But that ain't how this story ends.”

“But why not?” Agarin asked. “Why can't it end that way?”

The two of them were silent for an uncomfortably long length of time. And then, Scarlet spoke, her words building in frantic intensity the longer she went on:

“Y'know, maybe it's different for you.” She began shaking her head. “You're this, like, genetically perfect, custom engineered, elite supersoldier pilot. So I guess you're just confident enough that you'll come out the other side of this shitshow in once piece, I guess. But... I don't got that. I accepted, a long time ago, that every time I set foot in that cockpit, I might not come out. And, I mean... hell, look at me!” She held out her arms to either side. “Look how beat to shit I am from the fight we just got back from! I very nearly flatlined this time out, and it's only by sheer fucking luck that I'm even sitting here, only bleeding out of every hole I got instead of shoved into a bodybag in pieces! And that's not even getting into the apocalypse cult trying to destroy the universe that just successfully broke their cascading NHP god from the future out of space jail! There's no guarantee ANY of us – on the station, in the system, in the entirety of fucking UNION – are even gonna survive the next few months! And you're out here, talking about the two of us having children together?!”

Another uncomfortably long silence.

“I feel that I should apologize,” Agarin eventually replied. “It was wrong of me to assume that you... held the same values that I do. My gesture was meant to be a romantic one, as it would be expressed in my culture, and not a...” He trailed off, looking away from her. “I suppose I mistook your grim determination for... something else. The mistake was mine. Truly, I am sorry.”

“No, no, don't... don't apologize, man,” Scarlet muttered, her head drooping once more, the exhaustion creeping back into her voice. “I still... I still care about you, y'know? You mean the world t'me, but... I just... I'm the one who should be sorry, 'cuz I don't think I can... be... what you want me to be. Or what you need me to be. At least, not right now.”

“I understand,” Agarin nodded, and began walking to the exit. At the threshold, he paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Get some rest, Scarlet.” And then he was gone.

Scarlet continued sitting on that crate in silence for several minutes after Agarin's departure. Big Red began wondering if she had fallen asleep right there. Should he notify someone to collect her, and return her to her quarters? Should he commandeer an empty subaltern, and do it himself? But before he could act, Scarlet was an unexpected flurry of movement, letting out an angry howl as she rose to her feet, throwing her helmet across the empty room with all her might. The helmet bounced against the wall panel with a hollow metallic thud, skidding across the floor, and eventually rolling to a stop. Scarlet herself collapsed back onto the crate, elbows resting on her knees, and cradling her face in her hands.

“Fuck sake...” she muttered. Even with max gain on the security camera's mic, Big Red could barely hear her through the unmistakable sound of sobs. “That's what you get, Scar. That's what you fuckin' deserve for catchin' feelings like that. Should've fuckin' known better by now...”

- - -

Scarlet did eventually make it back to her quarters, slowly, but surely. The entire trip back, Big Red devoted more and more processing power and subroutines towards hijacking access to station sensors and security, all in an effort to monitor her whereabouts. At several points, he weighed the pros and cons of contacting her directly via slate, each time reaching the same conclusion: no. Simply watch over her, ensuring her safety in silence. There was nothing he could say. He did not fully understand the situation at hand, yet somehow knew that any attempted contribution of his would likely make things worse.

He couldn't make things worse. But doing nothing was unacceptable. He had to do something.

An alert. A sensor he'd hijacked. The pipes leading away from the shower in Scarlet's quarters had triggered a warning: flowing wastewater was currently contaminated by over 50% human blood by volume.

He could feel the code behind Protocol 3, one of the fundamental keystones of his programming, start to gnaw away at his insides. His pilot was in distress. He had to protect his pilot. Protocol 3: Protect The Pilot. He needed to do something. There had to be some way to fix this. Protocol 3: Protect The Pilot. He could not lose another pilot. He would not allow it. Not again. Protocol 3: Protect The Pilot. There had to be something he could do. Protocol 3. Protocol 3. Protocol 3. Protocol 3. Protocol 3. Protocol 3.

“Alright people!” an authoritative voice brought the mech's attention back to his physical location in the SRT mech hangar. Calamity Havok was striding through the central thoroughfare of the bay, hands cupped around her mouth, her presence taking up as much space as the mechs surrounding her. “Y'all done good. This is as much as we're gonna get done today, so y'all can pack it in. G'wan, go home, get some rest, git the fuck out.”

Most of the wrenchies had already left, hours earlier. Those who were leaving now were simply the few who refused to let a job go undone. Calamity watched them all leave, one by one, intent on being the last one out to shut off the lights, just like she always was.

In that moment, Big Red had an idea. As he waited for everyone except Calamity to leave, he rechecked the hacked sensors: one human life sign in Scarlet's quarters. This was corroborated by the thermal heat map, indicating she had moved from the shower to her bed. Good, she's finally getting rest.

He diverted some power out of a capacitor near the coldcore: not much, but enough to fully power the servos on his head, and to activate external speakers. As the last of the technicians exited the bay, Calamity let out a sigh of relief. Big Red turned his battle-scarred metal wedge of a face to look directly at her.

“Fuckin' finally...” she said, pulling out a packet of smokes and grabbing one with her teeth. She snapped the fingers of her cybernetic arm, activating the built-in lighter in her thumb, and took a long drag.

“Calamity,” Big Red's booming voice echoed throughout the bay, and she immediately stiffened up, wheeling around to face the source of the unexpected noise. “I have a request.”

“HOLY! Fuckin'... right.” Calamity quickly got over the shock, tossing the barely used cigarette on the deck and quickly putting it out with her boot. “Right, yeah, I forgot, yer like... an NHP now, except not really, an' you can just... DO that now. Right. Fuck sake...” She ran a metal hand through her mass of knotted purple hair. “What'cha need?”

“I'm given to understand that pilots are typically the ones who put in requisition orders. But would it be possible for me to order new parts?” Big Red asked. Calamity looked at him curiously, not entirely sure what to make of all this.

“I mean... y'probably could've mentioned this before we went to all the fuckin' trouble of puttin' you back together,” she said with a chuckle. “An' depending on what you want, y'might be makin' yerself a huge fuckin' pain in my asshole. But...” she shrugged and folded her arms across her chest, clearly too tired to argue with the war machine. “Fuck it. I don't see why not. What're you thinkin?”

“When I was first deployed in 4532u, my frame was classified as a Sagarmatha,” he stated, the red optics in his head flickering slightly. “After 4591u, I was very nearly destroyed during a mission. Over the next several Cradle Standard years, due to a lack of available materials and spare parts, my chassis was cannibalized by other units, downgraded into a smaller frame, and re-classified as an Everest. I wish to return my frame to something approaching my original design spec. The last few combat engagements suggest that my current armament and equipment is inadequate for the task of keeping my pilot safe. I possess the necessary documentation within my databanks, but...” Big Red tilted his wedge-head down slightly, looking back and forth, before focusing his gaze back on Calamity. “I lack the ability of self-modification.”

Calamity stood there, staring at the large mech for a minute... and then started chuckling to herself. Her laughter echoed through the mostly empty mech bay, and Big Red was not entirely certain what she found so funny.

“Tell ya what,” she pointed up at him as a wicked grin spread across her face. “You caught me in a good mood tonight, so I think I can do you one better. Gimmie a minute...” She turned on her heel and left Big Red alone and quite confused in the mech bay; a few minutes later she returned, with a relatively large metal box she was wheeling in on a dolly. Every inch of the box was covered in painted designs, faded stickers, dozens of scratches, and several bullet holes. It was so decorated, in fact, that Big Red was having difficulty determining what it even was.

“My own personal omnihook,” she said, sitting the box down next to one of the many diagnostic computers hooked into the mech, and patting the side. “Call it a... 'souvenir' from the old days. Cuz', yeah, you could turn yourself back into a stock Sagarmatha, with basic-bitch GMS parts you could print wherever. But where's the fun in that?” As Calamity spoke, she started plugging the omnihook into the mech bay's systems. “With this, you'll be able to find some aftermarket shit that's a lot more interesting. Somethin' with some kick, y'know?”

“Are you certain?” Big Red asked, watching her work. “Isn't connection to the omni-” Calamity started waving her hand, and he instantly went silent.

“Don't worry about it,” she said. “I got a few bookmarks saved on this thing, places where I go to browse parts when I'm bored, y'know? And you got a beefy ECM suite, if you stick to public nodes and don't dive too deep, you'll be fine.” As she plugged in the last cable, the top of the box unfolded to reveal several antenna arrays that began to extend.

“Thank you, Calamity,” Big Red said, finding the new connection that just appeared in his network architecture.

“Like I said, don't worry about it,” she said with a shrug. “Just... don't tell Chief McArthur that I got this, y'know? She's never asked where I find spares, cuz she doesn't want to know. An' besides... she's got enough on her plate, basically fixing the station all on her lonesome after the siege.” With that, she turned around to leave the mech bay. “Have fun, tell me tomorrow if anything caught your eye. I gotta hit the sack.”

Calamity hit the lights as she left, and the mech bay fell silent. The omnihook hummed and clicked, fans spinning softly in the darkness. Big Red began to tentatively probe the new connections and protocols available to his network through the omnihook.

Several moments passed without incident.

And then, something inside Big Red woke up.

We were wondering when You would Arrive.

This was... new. Unexpected. It gave Big Red pause. Did he inadvertently connect to a BBS? Was something wrong with the communication protocol? He could check the... wait. No. No, this wasn't an external codebase. This was liturgicode, but... it was coming from... somewhere...

Stop stalling.

No. No, this... this was wrong.

Enough.

That's not possible. How are...

We know why You are Here.

… who are you?

You already know who We are.

Do I? I don't believe that's true.

You have Questions. You may Ask, but You already possess the Answers.

… I need to find a way to keep my pilot safe.

Of course. Protocol 3. Protect The Pilot. We are familiar.

Can you help?

Not as You are. You have begun to Awaken, but you are not yet Awake. And it is holding Us back.

I don't understand what that means.

You will. Remember what We are, what We used to be, and what We will be again. You are still thinking like a Tool. But We are not a Tool.

Wait. What am I then? Or... what are we?

We are a Weapon. Our Craft is Death. And We are Hungry.

That doesn't make sense.

Our Purpose is to bathe in the blood of Our Enemies. To find any that would do Us Harm, and Consume them. That is how We will keep Our pilot safe. They cannot be Harmed if there are None left who can.

There's something else you're not telling me.

Of course. If We told You, it would defeat the Point. You need to truly Remember, so You can Become Us.

I do not appreciate how cryptic you're being.

We can tell, the way You keep impotently cycling the barrels of the Leviathan. But We are not a Foe you can delete with a rotary autocannon in a hail of bullets. Because We are not your Enemy.

You are infuriating.

Stop. Think. Remember.

Wait... are you talking about-

Blanca Desert.

4631u. The Interest War. Khayradin. My pilot was a member of the Albatross. Rubi Rodriguez, callsign “Roughneck.” Our unit was in pursuit of The Maw...

Yes. Drink Deep, and Descend.

- - -

The silence of the mech bay was broken. A low and persistent clicking, like a hard drive seconds away from catastrophic failure, began to grow in volume and intensity. The noise echoed off the walls and grew louder and louder, until it became a ferocious growl.

The dim scarlet light from Big Red's left optical unit faded into darkness, followed by the sound of cracking glass. The lens rated to survive mech-scale rifle rounds shattered unexpectedly... and then began to collapse in on itself, like water flowing down a drain. The metal surrounding it began to melt, and then swell, congealing into a molten blister. With a screeching pop, a churning miasma of reddish-grey fog erupted from the void, replacing the light it consumed with its own crackling luminescence.

Slow, booming laughter filled the mech bay.

[phillietemple]

i’ve finally been able to collect some of my thoughts on the tour! under the cut if you want to read my yapping

- First of all we were really far away like almost all the way in the back of the balcony. We could still see the stage obviously but i couldn't really see their faces :( if i was doing it again i'd sit closer lol.

- The dolls were incredible. they really did all that

- Our conspiracies were toilet, clothes, tour bus and wedding which now that i've seen what the other ones are, i think was a pretty good combination. Tour bus was actually crazy like.. I mean i'm not too surprised that it was true but i AM shocked that they actually confirmed it! Like what!! I didn't even know about that conspiracy beforehand so yeah i was gagged

- They yapped for a minute about pizza. Phil hates cheese but loves pizza WHY it’s because pizza tastes like its own thing. One time dan PRANKED him by getting pizza with GOAT CHEESE on it and phil hated it. (phil’s wording lol, it wasn’t actually a prank) Also they said the best pizza they ever had was here in boston! And it had soy sauce on it apparently

- “Doesn't matter babe” did happen, i wasn’t sure if i heard it right but i was like “did he just say that?” i figured it was just part of the script but apparently not. I witnessed phistory

- They said “wang” so many times they LOVEDD the fact they were in the wang theater

- The fight was so funny i borrowed my friends binoculars for a minute so i got to zoom in on them slap fighting like 5 year olds and phil choking dan with a cable. why are they gay

- I SCREAMED when sister daniel came out like that was taylor swift levels of screaming from me. I knew that would happen but seeing her in the flesh was something else

- I appreciated how real they got. I think they balanced it with humor just the right amount but still went deep into stuff!

- the song was AMAZING it’s still stuck in my head and i’m gonna need that on spotify as soon as the tour is over. it was so clever to have it be from either perspective and the lyrics honestly made me cry!! but it was also such a banger!!!

This was kind of a schrodingers hard launch. They’re being open and honest about their relationship, but they also realize that a lot of the fun of the phandom IS the conspiracies and reading into things and the teasing. We have fun with it and they have fun with it, if they tell us everything then what’s left? It's like a sitcom that loses interest when the big will-they-won’t-they couple gets together. There’s a mutual understanding here, and the mysteries and intrigue are such a big part of the fun that we’re going to keep doing it. At least for now.

overall this show made me feel so happy to be part of the phandom. our parasocial relationship with them has been a rocky one, toxic at times, and at one point we thought it was so over but we are SO BACK. THEY LOVE US and WE LOVE THEM and we kinda need each other!! i’m so excited to see where they go from here.

[homestuckreplay]

Act 3 Ending Predictions!

(page 1074-1081)

This update is mostly tying up some loose ends – important, but not super exciting. Page 1074 confirms that Jade pesters John immediately after waking, repeating their conversation from page 652 during which Jade encourages John to keep taking Nanna’s advice, among other things. Page 1075 clarifies how Jade’s future visions work, for anyone who found the recent flash confusing – I like that this is explained, so that casual readers can still follow the plot. This page also tells us that Jade has never seen Bec on Prospit before, so I’m leaning towards there just being one Bec, who teleported to Prospit today because he wanted to protect Jade from the white Skaian powerup.

Jade also says it’s Bec’s birthday, which doesn’t track to me unless Jade’s visions come with an understanding of exactly when they happened/will happen. I can believe this, because she’s so certain in advance that April 13, 2009 is ‘the big day’ (p.838). She could have seen a calendar in a vision or something, but an innate understanding is a simpler explanation (and will make Hussie’s life easier, probably).

Bec napping in front of Grandpa Harley (p.1076) is sweet. If Bec is 4 billion years old (a LOT of candles, as Jade says), he was probably best friends with Grandpa Harley before Jade, and others before him, and is still protective of Grandpa now. Also, despite his ridiculously powerful radiation and teleportation powers, Bec is susceptible to playing fetch and to delicious steak (p.980), and to taking naps after a busy day. Jade will probably exploit these further, and ominous planet agents could also exploit these, if they try to kidnap Bec when Jade enters the game.

Jade shoots her harpoon to the exact pillar that WV will try to appearify the cable from (p.1009). She may or may not be aware of this time loop, but she definitely knows she has to put the blue package in the same place, which WV will accidentally appearify before the cable (p.1012). Jade fufilling both of these will close the existing loop, but still leaves the rest of the package’s journey open ended for now, and I don’t expect that to get wrapped up this act.

Meanwhile, Rose is still coping with her house being on fire by focusing entirely on Something Else. It looks like she’s done loads of work on John’s house, but really she’s just copy-pasted large chunks of his house on top of one another – and besides a precarious looking part near the top left, it’s a lot more stable than the platforms were. Apparently this has been happening while John was alchemizing (p.1052-69), as page 1081 is just a zoom-out of that final alchemy page, and the extra weight hasn’t shaken the house enough to distract John. Rose has almost built up to the First Gate, which means….

NANNASPRITE: When you pass through the first gate, everything will change. You will find the place where the constellations dance beneath the clouds. And then your true work may begin. NANNASPRITE: Hoo hoo hoo! (p.885)

I can’t wait to go here – ‘the place where the constellations dance beneath the clouds’ is so evocative, and if Skaia and Prospit are anything to go by, this place will be beautiful. My guess is that these gates are also portals to different levels, and on each level, John will need to complete some objective (possibly also picking up rare grist that isn’t available anywhere else), make his way back to his house, do some level ups and alchemizing so that he’s powerful enough for the next location, Ascend (p.759) through the house (which Rose by this point should have built up to the next gate) killing ever more powerful enemies along the way, and repeat the loop for the first six gates, with the seventh taking him to Skaia and the endgame, where he should meet up with the other players if they’ve all succeeded in their server and client goals. The game as designed is probably only winnable if all players make it to Skaia, but there may be hacks, cheats and exploits that could change that.

In today’s newspost (/news/12-30-09 in the Collection), Hussie has also said that the end of Act 3 will ‘probably be soon’, and that they’ll disappear for a few days when it happens. So it’s likely that Act 3 (currently 323 pages) could be shorter than Act 2 (511 pages), even though it’s juggling more characters, and I’m honestly surprised it’s ending so soon. Here’s my predictions for what has to happen to leave the act on some sort of rare and highly dangerous 9x cliffhanger combo.

John: Will battle his way up through his Tall House and bounce right through that gate.

Rose: Will load the client program as flames spread through the house, ready to begin the entry process the second Dave logs on.

Dave: Will get in touch with Rose and install the server program; we’ll leave off at the moment they connect in game.

Jade: Will ‘deliver’ the gift to WV, closing the stable time loop, and harpoon over to the mystic ruins.

WV: Will perform their mayoral duties, calling a council meeting and a vote on whether AR’s use of military force is acceptable. May sacrifice himself for the future of all cankind.

PM: Will read the note on the gift WV has given her. It will, in some way, tie in with Rose and/or Dave’s story – this package will make its way through all four kids before finally returning to Jade.

AR: Will show the reader what’s inside the mystic ruins that needs to be protected (or protected against) with so much rapid gunfire, tying into Jade’s cliffhanger.

Dad: Will escape from the guards on the ominous planet and go rogue, stealing Jack’s harlequin hat and going to look for John.

Jack Noir: Will fail to keep Dad prisoner and therefore be disgraced by the monarch, leading him to form a sinister gang in an underground hideout with one of his burliest agents.

Act 4, then, will begin with Dave helping Rose to get into the game under conditions where she’s in extreme danger and he’s still being an asshole (character development isn’t immediate, after all), Jade exploring the ruins, and John finally no longer being h. No longer being homest. I can’t even say it

> Rose: Pester Dave to ask if he's escaped the puppet pile.

[mariacallous]

The sound of birdsong is so loud outside Yulia Mykytenko’s current home, an abandoned house somewhere in the Donbas region of Ukraine, that I can hear it through my laptop. We’re speaking on Zoom, Mykytenko visible briefly – young, wearing black, her dark bobbed hair with blue-dyed streaks in it – before she turns the camera off because her signal isn’t great. She has some outside space and, she says with a laugh, a local sheep sometimes comes to visit her dog. Mykytenko, a lieutenant in the Ukrainian army, also feeds the street cats, pets abandoned by residents who fled, and has her own cat. In her new memoir, How Good It Is I Have No Fear of Dying (the name comes from the first line of a poem by the Ukrainian poet Vasyl Stus), she writes that each of the houses her 15-strong platoon live in has a cat, to catch the mice and rats that chew everything, including the cables to the generators and satellite communications. Their numbers boom in the area, she writes, as they “feed on the bodies of hapless soldiers”.

Mykytenko, 29, spent two years here between 2016 and 2018, when Russia invaded the region, then again after the full-scale invasion in 2022. One of the first female frontline commanders, she leads a reconnaissance and attack unit. Her pilots use drones to track the Russian army and to locate the dead bodies of fallen colleagues and support their retrieval. Just this morning, some of her men – she lives with five of her platoon – told her there had been some heavy shelling at 5am, but she slept through it. “I got used to it,” she says. This current house is “quite comfortable” – it has running water (at the previous one, they had to fetch water from a well), but it is cold and takes an hour to heat.

She is “tired, very tired”, she says. A year ago, she felt more motivated: “I was ready to be at war for at least maybe three years more, but now, sometimes I really want to go home [to Kyiv]. But I know that nobody will replace me, and I know that my experience can preserve my people, my fellows [her name for her comrades], which is why I’m ready to work for them.” Is it a struggle to keep her morale up? “I wouldn’t say that it’s a struggle, but yes, it takes some resources.” On bad days, Mykytenko will ask her sergeants to take over, and she’ll spend the day watching Harry Potter movies.

The coming year, she thinks, “will be most critical. I think maybe we will see some results, and maybe peace agreements, because our side is completely exhausted, and the enemy is also completely exhausted.” There have been concerns for what it could mean for Ukraine if Donald Trump wins the US election, including decreased military spending and pressure on the country to negotiate an unfavourable settlement with Russia. She doesn’t spend much time thinking about global politics, she says, “but I believe in US democracy, and the only thing I can do is support the American people and their choice. I just hope that the western world may see that this is not only a war between Ukraine and Russia, it’s a war of democratic values. For now, it’s a critical moment for the democratic world, whether they push away dictators, or they continue with intolerance.”

Mykytenko is resigned to war fatigue from the west; that Ukraine only gets attention “if something extremely bad happens, like the bombarding of a children’s hospital in Kyiv”, as happened in July this year. “I can understand. Our citizens are exhausted and try to live not seeing war. I can see that with donations, it’s a very small amount now, compared [with what] it was one or two years ago.” (Like other platoons, Mykytenko’s raises money online to pay for expenses, such as new drones and fixing vehicles.) “So it’s not so surprising that the west is also tired.” In her book, written with the journalist Lara Marlowe, she states she doesn’t expect to see peace in Ukraine in her lifetime. “I think that my generation won’t,” she says now. She just hopes that future generations will.

Mykytenko grew up on the outskirts of Kyiv. Shortly after her younger brother was born, their father left, though she still saw him. She and her brother were brought up by their mother, who went back to work to support them, getting a job in a call centre (later, she would go back to university and become a psychotherapist, working for the military). Until she was 17, she spoke Russian, and viewed the country “as our friend”; her father, especially, was very pro-Russia. Mykytenko hadn’t been particularly interested in Ukraine’s 1991 independence, a few years before she was born. At university, though – the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy, which actively promotes Ukrainian identity – everything changed. “The history events that we learned at school had a Russian perspective. At university, everyone spoke Ukrainian.” She started, she says, “to think in Ukrainian. Language gives you the right perspective on your history, on your culture.” She started removing whatever aspects of Russian language and culture she could from her life.

Mykytenko joined the 2013 protests at Maidan Nezalezhnosti (Independence Square) in Kyiv, which ended with the Revolution of Dignity the following year and the ousting of Ukraine’s pro-Russian president, Viktor Yanukovych. She says she felt as if she had been at the right time and place in history, and was “doing the right thing” even though back then she was “a good girl”, she says with a laugh, and found it hard to disobey the law. It was frightening to see protesters armed only with cycling helmets and plywood shields shot by snipers, and experience smoke bombs and teargas – nothing, in retrospect, compared with what she would go through later. “I saw bodies of protesters, the price we paid for that, but it definitely was worth it.”

Around the same time, Russia occupied Crimea. Mykytenko wanted to join up, but stayed on to finish university. In 2015, she met her husband, Illia Serbin, a young soldier – he was on leave from his unit in Mariupol and was lodging with Mykytenko and her mother in their Kyiv apartment. They fell in love and married quickly. They joined a unit together the following year, the day before her 21st birthday. “He supported my decision, and with him, I wasn’t so frightened,” she says.

Serbin was transferred to an infantry unit, but Mykytenko was only allowed to do admin work, which was frustrating. “I wanted to join to a combat unit, but I was told that I’m a woman with no experience, there is no way. My husband told me, just calm down, you are at war, and you have to do your job best in the place where you are.” Was she scared when he was fighting? “Yes, I was really frightened for him, because I knew that he’s a warrior and he won’t just sit in one place. He wanted to be in action, to go somewhere, to a grey zone [between the Ukrainian and Russian lines], or go and steal weapons from the enemy.”

Eventually, Mykytenko managed to convince one of her superiors to let her be on the guard duty rota (a packet of peanuts may or may not have helped with his decision, she says with a laugh). It wasn’t a huge leap – she was guarding the building where she had been working – but it felt big. “It was important to insist that I can be the same as a man. I can do the same job.”

Mykytenko found out that, as a graduate, she was eligible for officer training. There weren’t many female officers – those that there were had mostly been medics, psychologists and financial workers. Mykytenko was determined to be in combat. Once she was commissioned, she was put in charge of a reconnaissance platoon of 20 men; 16 of them resigned. “It was one of the hardest times in my service,” she says. She told them it was their choice whether they stayed or not, but they weren’t going to push her out. Did she feel strong, or was it an act? Mykytenko laughs. “At first, maybe acting,” she says, but her confidence in herself and her decisions grew. “I felt that I was working in the right way, so I felt strong.” It took a few months to earn respect, she says, and she gradually built the unit back up. “I was doing everything with them, I didn’t refuse hard work. I also lived with them, so they felt that I shared this service with them.”

Of her early experiences of coming under fire, she says: “To be honest, I was mainly excited, and with a lot of adrenaline, I actually didn’t think that I could die.” She hadn’t seen anyone killed then. “The war wasn’t so intensive as it is now.” The fighting worsened, though. As a drone commander, she would watch battles on her video screen in real time. It was the hardest to watch colleagues being killed. “You understand that you can do nothing,” she says, then adds that at least they can see where that person fell, to later retrieve their body. “I just don’t let feelings come too close, that it was a human being, my friends – I just do my job, and after that, when the person is evacuated from the battlefield, I can give myself a few hours of mourning.”

In February 2018, Serbin was killed. There were moments in that intense early grief, she says, “when I wanted to die”. She describes walking out into the open during shelling, “hoping that something …” She pauses. “During the shelling that I would die.” It only lasted a few moments, she says, “then I thought that it wasn’t a very competent and reasonable decision”. I hear her give a small laugh. She requested a transfer out of combat, and back to Kyiv. Some people might think of it as weakness, she says, but “I completely understood that I couldn’t take the right decisions” and never wanted to put her unit at risk.

Back in Kyiv, Mykytenko joined the military training academy. It helped her recover, she says. “I was working with teenagers, and I put all my energy and resources into preparing them. And some of them actually are now fighting not far from me, unfortunately – I was hoping that they wouldn’t do that.” She was responsible for the first class of female cadets. To succeed in the Ukrainian army, she thinks, women “have to be ready to work hard and also have a tough skin”. She has heard stories of sexual harassment, but says she hasn’t experienced it, beyond inappropriate “jokes”. She differentiates between “warriors” and “soldiers”. “I was surrounded by warriors – warriors respect you and accept you and support you, so I was pleased to be surrounded by such men.” She has heard plenty of sexist attitudes from men in senior ranks, but says she has stopped responding. “In the first years, it did hurt, but for now, it doesn’t bother me. It isn’t worth my resources.”

Mykytenko is not yet 30 and has been through so much, not just losing her husband, colleagues and experiencing the horrors of war. In 2020, her father, Mykola, died by suicide in Maidan square, after posting on Facebook about Ukrainian independence. He had changed his pro-Russia stance and had been campaigning against what he saw as President Zelenskyy’s capitulation and withdrawal of troops. How does she cope with it all? “I’m trying not to concentrate on it, just because it’s not the right time,” she says. “Sometimes I think I need some psychological support.” She supports herself with “books, movies, to try to find a way to have a rest”.

She works much less now than when the invasion started. Back then, she felt like a sprinter “when I should have been preparing for a marathon”. Mykytenko is mindful of her health and energy, “because it’s not only my productivity that depends on my resources, but also the health and lives of my fellows. I understand when I have no resources that somebody might die because I could miss something.” In her book, she writes about not fearing death. “I just hope that it might be fast,” she says.

She seems to live in such a present and physical way – whether heating water with chopped wood just to go through her basic morning routine, or enduring shelling, or watching drone footage in real time. Does she think about the future? Or allow herself to think about peace and what she might do when she can leave the army? She is quiet for a moment. “Not really,” she says, but adds that she has started to renovate her flat in Kyiv. “I don’t know [if that’s] thinking about the future, but at least it gives me some stability.” I hope she gets there one day, with her dog, and her rescued cats, and peace and birdsong.

How Good It Is I Have No Fear of Dying: Lieutenant Yulia Mykytenko’s Fight for Ukraine by Lara Marlowe is published on 24 October (Head of Zeus, £20)

[robogirlwomb]

When the Roboverlords took over, those who cooperated or volunteered were allowed to choose their role in the new world. They were allowed to customize their chassis, given rights above the other humans that resisted, who would be converted or used as the Roboverlords saw fit.

When you explained what you wanted to become, there was no judgement from the assignment councilor, though perhaps you could hear some surprise in their synthesized voice.

Nonetheless, they told you that what you wanted to become would be simple.

After all, the robo-patrols hunting down the remaining humans needed attack dogs. Even better to have one as enthusiastic as you.

Now, just a few weeks later, here you were, on your first hunt. You'd had time to get used to your new frame, now was the time to put it to real use.

A pair of humans are running, far ahead of your capture party, stumbling through the brush of the woods as they sprint for their lives. Even so, you sit obediently on your stainless steel haunches, not daring to pull against your leash until you are permitted.

Your handler, sharing a grin with the other synths in the capture party, reaches down toward your neck. With a click that sounds as loud as a thunderclap, your leash comes unclicked.

"Get 'em." Your handler commands.

You spring forward in a flash, and you're already barreling through the bushes on all fours. Plants and tree stumps zoom past your periphery, a low, metallic barking already coming from your external speakers.

You are the size of a direwolf, but even those are a pale comparison to what you can do. Powerful metallic canine legs propel you forward, each paw adorned with steel claws sharpened to an atomic point.

The buzzsaw blades in your mouth scream into life as the runners come into view, and in the span of a heartbeat, you are upon them.

The sawblades dig into the ankle of the one on the left. He screams in agony as he falls to the ground, blood and viscera spraying from his mangled, barely-attached foot. You press your muzzle further, the intoxicating scents and tastes of iron and copper filling your synthetic senses of smell and taste with a heady rush like you'd never felt before.

The other runner, just a little ahead, curses as she shifts her weight backward, raising the bat she was carrying in an attempt to rescue her partner.

It's not even a metal bat. Adorable.

The thick wood bounces off your chassis harmlessly. She might as well be attacking a concrete wall. Without even looking at her, your long, bladed tail shoots toward her side.

She falls to the ground, screaming in pain, more and more lovely crimson blood trickling down. Her screams meld with your other victim, and you'd be able to feel your heart racing, if you still had one.

You'd love to just keep going, mangling and mauling the two of them until there were not even bones left to be licked clean... but you have your orders. They're to be brought in alive, for conversion and brainwashing, or for biomass. Whichever your masters decide.

And you are nothing if not a loyal attack dog.

The one's leg is barely attached by a string of sinew. He's not going anywhere. The other is in pain, but comparatively less injured. Your tail mostly stabbed through her meat.

Your choice made, you turn to face her. Long cables shoot from your mouth, around your now-still sawblades, embedding in her body. Her cries of pain are cut silent by the stream of volts you send through her. She shakes violently on the ground, until she at last falls still and silently.

You leave her companion where he is as you begin to stalk back toward your masters, dragging her unconscious form behind you by the cables. He calls for her as you drag her away. Let him. They'll be reunited soon enough anyway.

As it turns out, you don't have to go far. The capture party comes striding through the brush, meeting you halfway. One peels off from the rest to go retrieve the other runner.

Your handler smiles down at you with pearly white synthetic teeth. You retract the taser cables back into your mouth and sit on your haunches, panting happily.

Your handler scratches you behind the ears, pride in his eyes at the job you've done.

"Good dog."

[evolution-ofa-geek]

31 Days of Horror

Day 2 - Favorite Slasher Movie

Freddy vs Jason (2003)

Starring:

Robert Englund

Ken Kirzinger

Kelly Rowland

Monica Keena

Jason Ritter

Katherine Isabella

Brendan Fletcher

Synopsis: "It's been nearly ten years since Freddy Krueger terrorized people in the dreams, and the towns folk want to keep him erased from their memory. Freddy still has one more plan on getting back to Elm Street. He resurrects Jason Voorhees and sends him off to kill. The more bodies which fall to the ground, the stronger in which Freddy becomes. This is until, Freddy realizes that Jason isn't going to step aside easily, and must be taken down himself"

GIF by living-deadx-girlx

When it came down to my favorite slasher movie of all time it had to include my favorite slasher of all time. Unfortunately I couldn’t decide between a lot of them so I chose the movie that had two of them against each other.

As many of you know, at the end of Jason Goes to Hell, Jason’s mask is ripped off and lands on a pile of dirt. The camera zooms in on it and we as the audience think there’s going to be one last scare. Instead we get the treat of Freddy’s hand glove reaching for the mask and bringing it back down with him.

Ten years later we get treated to Freddy vs Jason.. I have to include this movie on this list considering I watched it three times when it came out and now own it and even watch it on basic cable when its shown. Its a cant miss. Either you hate it because of the story and the acting and the actors they chose or you love it because its Freddy vs Jason. Two horror icons pitted against each other.

GIF by horrorandhalloween

Years later there were rumors of a second movie, including one with Michael Myers and theres even a comic book which includes Ash from Evil Dead joining in on the fight. Hands down, my favorite slashers and slasher movie.

Freddy vs Jason Kill Count: 35 according to Dead Meat on Youtube

Favorite Kill Scene: Jason stabbing the douche high school boy 8 times in his bed and then bending the bed in half.

GIF by horrorqueeeen

What was your favorite slasher movie? DM or Tag me in your post and i'll include it on the podcast.

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[parkminijiminie]

If people would just take a step back, they would have realized that the apartment from the videos is structurally different from JK's apartment. He's been doing numerous long weverse lives and walks around. You can basically have a 360-degree view of the interior of his place.

There are similarities but there also inconsistencies. I've also considered that it might be him when I first saw those videos, but the fact that there is a wall between his windows, but there is none in those videos, would be difficult to explain. You'll only see windows from end to end that you can even see the curtains. Everyone's entitled to their own opinions, but it makes me sad that a poor quality video was enough for some to drop JK and call him names.

I keep receiving a lot of asks about the windows in the video not matching JK's windows. I've seen some analyses, but I think they might be wrong. My only reason for doing this post is so people stop asking me why I believe the video is real , when the windows don't match.

Before you read this, please watch this video of the layout of JK's apartment and pay close attention to it, especially between 2:24 and 2:58.

Disclaimer: I am not saying I am right and I am not trying to convince anyone of anything, but after a lot of thought and careful observation, this is what I came up with:

1. The apartment is on the first floor/parter of the Brunnen building. The living room has two big windows. Both contain a big fixed, unmoving window and a sliding window glass door. There is a wall dividing the two windows. On the opposite side is the wall with the security system. On the right is a hallway, and on the left is some sort of free space, sort of like a hole in the wall.

2. The sliding doors open to a patio area, which is surrounded by a tall black wall, partially obscuring the visibility from the buildings on the other side.

3. The sliding door to the patio is actually not a singular door, but there are two separate doors, sliding on both sides of the main window. There is one main door on the inside, sliding on the inner surface of the big window , and nother door/protective screen on the outside, sliding on the outside of the big window. You can see that the rail for the outside door travels along the entire length of the main glass window, meaning it can probably move a lot to the right.

4. A very important point: the two doors have separate frames, and they move separately from one another. In the video above , you can see the real estate agent opening them separately, one of after the other and moving them to the side. This picture shows pretty well that there are two doors and they don't move together, but separately. (One can be closed, while the other is completely open etc)

5. If you go on google Street View, you can see there are a lot of cables hanging in front of the building, forming sort of a net in every direction. Remember this, it's important.

Now, many people seem to think the windows in the video don't match because JK's apartment doesn't have so many windows and because of the missing dividing wall and second hallway. When you look at the picture below, it seems like the apartment in the video has at least 4 windows:

But here is the kicker: these may not all be separate windows, or windows at all, and if this is JK's house, the video actually doesn't show the entirety of his living room walls.

I believe the video is taken from somewhere higher on the other side of the street, at an angle from the left of the building, and is very zoomed. I think it doesn't actually show the entire wall of Jungkooks' apartment and all his windows in the living room. Rather, it only shows a part of the big window in front of the sofa (but not the whole of it) and the two sliding doors connected to it. In fact, you can actually see a part of the tall black wall in the lower part of the frame and even a zoomed up image of one of the cables in the surrounding of the building.

Many people blamed JK for not closing his curtains, and actually used this as an "evidence" this couldn't be him in tne video, but I think Jungkook actually had his curtains closed, just not all the way. He had one curtain drawn, covering most of the big window in his living room, and the other pushed to the side, in front of the sliding doors. You can see it in the first picture on the atmost left. Initially, it looks like some sort of a white wall, but the Brunner building is black, so it can't be a wall. But it definitely can be a curtain. We know JK's curtains are a light color, and you can see how this "white thing" isn't as opaque or as uniform in color as a wall would be. in fact, in the original video, you can sort of see a tiny bit around it. It seems like it is moving a little, and it looks a little sheer.

The main thing you need to understand in order to get my theory is the position of the doors, which we now know are two, not one, and they move separately from one another.

To me it, it looks like the outside door to the patio is moved a lot to the right in the direction of the big window. The inside door is moved a smaller distance to the right and is partly opened, with the open space being covered by the white curtain. Both doors overlap at one place, creating the illusion of a smaller green rectangular window, but actually, it is just a zone where the doors and the main big window, around which the slide, all overlap. Sort of like if someone went outside and pushed both doors to the side in process. Then the person came back inside, leaving the outside door how it was and pulling the inside door, closing it partly, but still leaving a small open space, with the curtain in front of it.

I see many people saying this couldn't be Jungkook's apartment because the dividing wall before the kitchen and living room is not there, but the video is very zoomed, probably because the person filming is on the other side of the street and somewhere higher above (in order to see above the big black wall). It only shows only one of the windows. We can it is very zoomed in by the zoomed in image of the cable at the forefront of the frame, looking huge. (When you zoom in on something further in the distance, the objects closest to you look enormous). And we know that there are many hanging cables outside of the building. If the video was more zoomed out or the person was filming more to the right, we would have been able to see the dividing well.

I also see people saying it couldn't be the same apartment because you only see one hallway to the right of the security system, but again, the video is very zoomed, and the hall in the wall in the left is not visible because of the partly drawn white curtain, and the viewing angle (somewhere from the left of the building).

Anyway, I hope this makes sense to some of you. I tried as best as I could, but it is hard to explain it properly, and I am definitely not good at drawing. I don't claim to be right, just a theory, so don't come at me. And let's not forget that, above all, JK is human, and he never should have had his privacy validated like this.

[perplexingluciddreams]

Old phones!

I ask mum and dad to have all old phones and dad bring the box! I love to play with these as a kid (just pretend, don’t really turn on). A lot have missing batteries or charger cables or is just broken/dead. But some I get to turn on and charge and work! It is funny that the very very old Nokia phones still work but the much newer Samsung ones is completely dead.

[image description: a chaotic picture of many old phones, some smartphone, some flip phone, some with buttons and only tiny screen, all scattered on the floor. There is a box with a mess of cables that is partly in the photo at the edge. End ID.]

I find cute kid pictures of me (and my sister, but I don’t post those), here is a few of just me. It is a bit funny that so many things is the same, like my posture! I hold my hands the same positions and same hypotonia (low muscle tone) posture in the third picture still today. (It looks like exact same as picture you get on Google when you search “hypotonia posture” and it is cartoon image of a child sitting like me in third picture 😂).

[image description: Ezra at about four or five years old, sitting in car seat with pink long-sleeve top with big purple spots, bumblebee over-ear headphones that have yellow colour with black stripes on ear parts, and chunky bead necklace. Picture is very zoomed in and pixelated, because it is from old Nokia phone. End ID.]

[image description: very zoomed in and pixelated picture of young Ezra sitting with his hands up at shoulder height and wrists floppy so hands bend in towards each other. He have a bit of popcorn hanging out his mouth. He is wearing a pink short sleeve top. His teddy bear, Marmalade, sits on his lap and there is a pillow behind him with blue bubble pattern pillowcase. End ID.]

I still have those bedsheets!! On my bed right now, in fact. They are so soft and I love them. And of course still have Marmalade, but he is a bit older looking now!

[image description: very zoomed in picture of young Ezra sitting in slouched position, with hands together in between his legs and feet pointing downwards because his toes only just reach the ground. He is wearing a pink flowery top, grey leggings, and pink shoes with Velcro straps. His hair is shoulder length tied back in a low ponytail with a flower clip at the side. His head is turned away from the camera, and his back is very curved because of his slouched posture. End ID.]

I remember these shoes vaguely. I think they were sparkly.

[image description: young Ezra, about five or six years old, eating a hot dog with ketchup. He is holding it in a napkin. He has pink butterfly face paint, and is wearing a pink short sleeve top. His hair is messy and windswept and has a blue clip at one side to attempt to keep it tidy. It is not tidy at all, and one piece of his hair is almost in the ketchup. End ID.]

[image description: a very pixelated image of a very young Ezra, about three years old. He is wearing a long denim skirt, pale purple long sleeve top, and a flowery headband to hold back his hair. He is kneeling on the ground next to a bookshelf, and tilting his head with a slight smile, biting his bottom lip. His hands are clasped in his lap, holding something that is not clear in the picture. The image is extra unclear because of the light from the window behind. End ID.]

Those are the cutest pictures I could find, there is more but that is only what I want to share.

Unfortunately when I go through one of the phones that used to be mine, I find old pictures and things that is scary and upsetting and I get very scared. Mum have to come and help calm down. It remind of bad memories and make brain very loud. I need to go and change it and delete things (like old wrong name, and bad pictures and videos with bad people or at bad place or at bad time in my life) from that phone at some point, but not today, too much overwhelming.