#violiN PALS!

[chiropteracupola]

Sagt ihm, er soll auf der Lichtung stehen / Thymian ist da und auch Rosmarin / Mit Kraft zwischen Ufer und Wellen bestehen / Nur so kann er seine Liebste sehen...

[luckycloud808]

"Homage to Man Ray Tattoo, [Le Violon d'Ingres,] Performed on Judy Nylon" London, 1977

tattoo by Ruth Marten, photo by Jon Savage

[dmagedgoods]

Owlcatober Day 12 - Song: Late-night tune

He doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes from his sleep. Not morning, surely, the room lies in silken darkness. Has he been disturbed by a dream? No – he realizes slowly –, something more pleasurable ... And it has not stopped. The melody dances through the air, melancholic, poignant, aching, and yet beautiful. Drawn closer to the music by curiosity, he leaves the bed while putting on his light, flowing dressing gown. The cold of the marble underneath his naked feet merges into the softness of thick carpets, then elegant parquet when he leaves their sleeping room, passes a corridor and enters the spacious parlor. There he stands, his muscular back to him, his violin perched carefully on his shoulder, and his cheek against the valuable wood. His body sways slowly with the tune, his arm moves gracefully but with vigor. He guides the bow with skill and passion while his fingers – his beautiful, long fingers adorned by golden rings – catch onto the strings. He stands mesmerized, barely breathing. But somehow his arrival has aroused Salvadore’s attention. He is tilting his head, his bow leaves the strings of his violin, and the instrument falls silent. “I woke you.” “And how lucky I am that you did.” He gives him a smile – warm and vivid, without holding back the deep affection he feels. “I couldn’t sleep,” Salvadore explains himself regardless, and starts to put the violin back in its case. “My apologies. I didn’t think I was this loud.” “Don’t,” Daeran steps towards him and stops him in his movement. “Play some more for me, will you?” A moment of thought crosses those sharp features before a little smile appears on his lips. He has the urge to press his own against it, and he knows the gesture would be eagerly appreciated and reciprocated, yet he denies himself the tempting pleasure. And Salvadore begins to play anew. This melody runs differently than the one before. It begins slowly but soon ascends into something that quickens his heartbeat, it surrounds them both, and he sinks into the tune and into the picture alike. His hair falls to his forehead, the way he never allows in public, and his concentrated gaze softens when his eyes meet his and melt into an expression he can only describe as … devotion. Heavens and hells and all planes in between and beyond, what did this man do to him? Eventually, much too soon, the song stops. The smile returns to Salvadore’s face. “You watch so intently,” he comments, and amusement finds its way into his words. “As though you’d learn it off my fingertips.” “Don’t be ridiculous. I was merely observing and complimented myself on my fortunate choices. I didn’t pay much attention during my own violin lessons,” he lies, “But as long as I keep you around, I’ll get all the pleasure with none of the work. – Or the hassle of finding musicians willing and capable to entertain me in the middle of the night.” “You could play a record.” “That’s hardly the same.” Salvadore chuckles. “Maybe I should teach you then. What if I’m not around for a while? And I admit I’m curious what you still remember.” “Not a lot,” he answers casually. Another lie. Meanwhile, he walks closer until he’s chest to chest with the man who makes his heart race so fast that he must feel it through the thin fabric of his dressing gown and his own silken shirt. “But maybe I’ll let you.” His lips brush Salvadore’s shoulder with the lightest graze. “– Maybe I’ll allow you to show off your remarkable talents and become my music teacher. Your oversized ego would like that, wouldn’t it?” Salvadore’s lips against his mouth keep him from uttering another word. He recognizes the faint taste of mint and then only heat, only him, and all the burning passion of his demanding tongue, his possessive hands, and his hard body that presses against his own. When he pulls away, he breathes hard. They both do. “You are kissing your students? Should a teacher exploit their power in such outrageous ways?”

“I firmly believe it will work on you,” Salvadore answers, his voice quiet and low. “And if you turn out to be willing to learn, I may consider a reward you may find even more outrageous. Just the way you like it.”

[tench]

I wonder if people in the tags under my Wilf drawing are really thinking that it's me who is mad that people are horny for him? Because I'm not stupid, I drew him Like That for a reason, and even if it wasn't my initial intention I honestly never mind people having a good time? And it's not that I'm petty, it's just The Most Popular thing I've done ever and sometimes he's resurfacing again and people leave the same comment. I know I won't ever beat the allegations. But I'm still sad about it.

[bughead-in-the-comics]

From Base Music, Archie's Pal Jughead #33 (1955).

[ask-emoripals]

🏀: Man… I’m glad we picked this badass as hell violin for Sunny tomorrow! See, I told you that shop had good shit in it Mari!

🎹: Haha, I can’t against that Kel! I thank you very much for your assistance in getting a gift for my little brother.

🏀: No thanks needed! I may fight a shit ton with him but he’s the bestest…… friend I can ask for.

🎹: Indeed… perhaps you should give him an extra gift? I could see… you had a slight pause after the “bestest” part.

🏀: *Sigh* ……Mari, for the love of…

🎹: Apologies if I’m acting too pushy Kel… but it’s clear you’re struggling with these thoughts, and well…… I just thought it might help you out if you just confessed.

🏀: …*Sigh*, guess I can’t argue against that. I’ll try… though you better make it even by giving your brother an additional gift, since this violin is Our gift to him.

🎹: *Nods* Of course Kel.

[murderousink23]

12/13/2023 is St. Lucia Day 🌎, National Cocoa Day 🇺🇲, National Violin Day 🎻🇺🇲, National Day Of The Horse 🐎🇺🇲, Pick A Pathologist Pal Day 🇺🇲, National Hot Chocolate Day 🇬🇧

[gamerhamlet]

my love for armani & jude flips wildly depending on which one I’ve played most recently + where I’m at in their playthroughs but I just KNOW I’m about to go stupid for my resist!durge

[wickedhawtwexler]

if my grandmother knew how many times i have navigated the nyc subway system while very intoxicated it would probably kill her. so nobody tell 🤫

[spookysplatt]

Hatchetfield Tumblr omg

✝️ graciee777 Follow

Hello world! I'm Grace, I just got this app to keep up with my friend @s-lauter and post bible verses daily for a project my study group is doing! Can't wait to learn more about you all!

✝️ gracie777 Follow

All of you are going to Hell.

💿 s-lauter Follow

we NEED to start talking about problematic morning cup'a news is. yeah it's """just a squirrel""" but if you're willing to misgender her it's a slippery slope

🔆 debs-bian Follow

#okay but I actually had no idea peanuts was a girl?? #I'll tell my dad lol I promise he and donna just didn't know #chronically online kinda take though steph I hate to say it

🍃 emmahikes Follow

Tell me why my boyfriend just called himself babygirl while hyping himself up for his big presentation at work today??

#what is wrong with him <3 #I think I have to marry him now

👾 peternotparker Follow

First day working at my local theme park! I'll update you guys with how it goes

👾 peternotparker Follow

hopital

🚬 califor-mia Follow

my sister is playing her little guitar at 3 am in our shared room and i can't even complain because i was already awake

🚗 carsnpunks Follow

Babe I think the little ones are violins not guitars

🌺 al-pal Follow

...ukulele. Guys. It's a ukulele.

#Lex you GOT IT FOR HER how do you not know what it is

🧑🏻‍🎤 attackonbi-tan Follow

My uncle Gary called me cringe???? He's an actual lawyer he doesn't know these words who told him to say this

🌌 leialove Follow

I mean he's got a point you do use an anime character's name on here

🧑🏻‍🎤 attackonbi-tan Follow

You.

#ruth you can't talk you have a star wars fandom blog #plus levi is a great name fuck you #stop teaching my uncle words

📼 missretro Follow

I miss this

📔 dukesthoughts Follow

Babe I love you so much but that picture says 2017

[boopshoops]

Common sense doesn't feel all that common when coming from a fella such as this.

template by ai-kan1! dividers here! sound on :)

Alias: Creek

Nickname(s): Cricket, Piranha

Gender: Xenogender

Pronouns: Any with they/it preference (they>it). Also prefers masculine language/titles (i.e. lad, mister, sir, etc.)

Sexuality: Unlabeled

Birthday: June 1 (Gemini)

Age: Somewhere close to 200, they've stopped counting

Height: 5'8 or 172cm, though the height of the doll is adjustable.

Voice Claim(s): Yuri Lowenthal, Keiichi Nanba

Twisted From: Jiminy Cricket

Unique Magic: None! It's magicless.

Job: Playful Land Owner

Hobbies: Terrarium making, architecture, entrepreneurship, bug collecting, raising bug colonies, reading, violin, creating soundscapes, fashion.

Likes: Bugs, spiders, nature, Italian roulade, their doll body, cricket song, old locomotives, leaving large impressions on others, seclusion.

Dislikes: Existentialism, extreme pessimism, extended periods of boredom, drawing in an unwanted crowd, unrewarded extended efforts.

Fears: Being completely numb, feeling nothing, being stuck in one place for too long.

Summary: The eccentric yet secluded benefactor of Playful Land, both feared and loved by many for their charities. The owner is known for exploring many different business ventures, to the point where their company is behind a startlingly large amount of big names and faces. It's been around for a suspiciously long amount of time... at least others find it suspicious, Creek's lifespan isn't that much of a secret to their close circle... that circle mostly consisting of a bunch of insects, but still.

Creek, evidently, is more so focused on doing their own thing and finding constant sources of emotion rather than living up to the standards their business has risen to. After all, once you reach the top, it has to find out just what else life has in store for them. That, and what life has in store for others. Whether that is dangerous or not is up to you, long as you stay on your toes.

Playful Land's owner is known among their hires - even in avenues outside the amusement park - as being oddly generous, if not even incredibly intelligent. Guidance is something they are almost always willing to offer, in any topic or field. Don't get it wrong, though. They're not kind or overtly rude. What you see is what you get, even if it gets you sent straight to hell. Thems the facts, lad.

CHARACTER PLAYLIST - CREATION STORY - DEATH STORY

Author's note: koisdghdosieeee theyre so sillayyy! theyre just sooo sillay guys trust me guys its just a sillay lil geek mk! wym they abandoned isola and stole whats practically her skeleton. what could u posibly mean i jhave no idea what you're talking about :) they just like little critters theyve never done anything wrong no human trafficking into labour here noooooooooooooooooooooooooo pal!!!!!! perfectly legal lived a perfectly normal amount of time totally is NOT a peepaw and has not fed ANYONE to their massive supply of crickets.

anyway ernesto/fellow bombing their giantass ship was the most entertaining thing thats happened to them in a decade <3

mr. "why are you charging those two for the destruction of the park" "i just wanted to see what would happen lol" Creek

Tag list :)

@skriblee-ksk @lowcallyfruity @justm3di0cr3 @kitwasnothere @cecilebutcher

@distant-velleity @thehollowwriter @techno-danger @scint1llat3 @the-trinket-witch

@beneathsakurashade @kathxrat-01 @qsoap @twsted-canvas @prince-kallisto

@gimmeurmoneyagh @tixdixl @sillyslipperybananapeel @twstinginthewind

[zeraaachan]

to rhyme my name with yours

summary: bsd! characters as arabic poetry and lines i read in the internet. character(s): dazai osamu, chuuya nakahara, fyodor dostoevsky, ryuunosuke akutagawa content warning(s): religious themes, blood, yandere-ish behaviors; you pronouns are used for reader

dazai osamu "i'll dip my hands in holy water if it means touching you."

dazai osamu's hands are stained with blood, and he knows. he knows just how many fallen bodies it took to fully coat his two palms with red. enemies' blood, the last red ink written by his pals, all is but another layer of the skin on dazai osamu's palm. his hands are bloody with fingers that only know nothing but to take. give dazai osamu another pair of hands and watch how it becomes soaked in blood. give him another pair and witness how the fingers are not enough to count the lives he took. since dazai osamu is a bloody wreck with bloodier hands. all his hands ever knew is how to sin, how to anger the gods, how to be an irony in churches.

that is until he found you. until his hands, with its blood and gore, ached to reach for something. until his fingers, dripping with red,  started to cross themselves to wish for your well-being… for the devil to not take you away from him, a devil himself. dazai osamu is cursed with bloody hands but his palms learned how to kiss for a prayer when he found you.

his hands, sinner they are more than him, became a bloody paradox. it learned how to pray for a blessing undeserved by his sinful hands. dazai osamu is not a religious man, daring life and death with his suicidal attempts. but when he found you bathed in colors from the church's stained glasses, dazai osamu learned that angels do exist. that god took the longest in one of his creations.

he signs the cross with his bloody fingers and dip his hands in holy water before kneeling, not to the altar but before your figure, as his trembling hand finds a place on your cheek.

and when dazai osamu's palm lovingly carress your cheek, he can see the blood from his hand tainting your skin.

chuuya nakahara "on the train, we swapped seats. you wanted the window and i wanted to look at you."

it's laughable how chuuya nakahara is always there for someone who will never choose him first. it's hilarious how the skilled mafioso keeps choosing people who cannot even pick him as the first option. an option, a mere one, is all chuuya ever knew. to dazai osamu who never actually chose him, to mori who rather have dazai, to the red-haired hag who'd rather choose the kid. chuuya nakahara is only seen if the first option is nowhere to be found.

but not to one. not to you.

it's funny how chuuya nakahara's ability is gravity manipulation when all that stabilizes him to the ground is your words. when you told him that you want him even if he hesitantly asked if you are sure that you really want him. chuuya can never forget the day that you got offended when he asked if he's the one you really want, not dazai or akutagawa or practically anyone else. since it is strange to be finally found after being invisible for so long.

and as he stare at you, drawn to that window view you so much craved, chuuya nakahara can't but feel grateful that finally… finally someone saw him. not as a third or second option. you chose him.

and if you'll tear your eyes away from the view outside the window to face him, you'll see it plainly in his eyes: you're the cure to his tainted sorrow.

fyodor dostoevsky “and if the devil was ever to see you, he'd kiss your eyes and repent,"

fyodor is not the devil, he is a religious man. the white clothes that wrap his body are not a paradox but a symbolism of the purity he seeks to achieve. the way he plays the violin, so soothingly yet eerily perfect, is but an imitation of the melody he aims to give the world. since fyodor dostoesky is a religious man. and as all men of faith, he wishes nothing but greatness for the world. fyodor dostoevsky is on a mission to save every sinful souls.

so why are you running, little mouse? why call him the devil when all he wants is to save you? come, come, little mouse. take his gloved hands and you shall be saved. shh… hush, little mouse. you shan't call him the devil, he's here to save you from them. little mouse, stop running. stop sinning. oh, poor little mouse. he told you— it's a dead end there.

"stop! stop…! don't come near me you… you… devil!"

fyodor is not the devil. he is a religious man. "i am but a man of faith. together we shall repent, dear"

fyodor is not the devil, he is a religious man who'll lovingly kiss your closed eyes as his thumbs wipe the tears on the corner of your eyes. who'll whisper to you in hushed tones that now you will be saved, now you'll be away from this impure world. shh, little mouse. your tears will tempt any devil from the fiery pits of hell, your pitiful sobs will just stir something from the abyss. shh, little mouse, stop crying or the devil will kiss your eyes.

and as fyodor dostoevsky kiss the sorrow from your eyes, tears leaving the taste of salt and fear on his lips, the religious man wondered whether he's indeed the devil who'll kiss your eyes… and find salvation from it.

ryuunosuke akutagawa "because my love for you is higher than words, i have decided to fall silent."

ryuunosuke akutagawa is a silent lover. he love with his actions and not with his words. his love is tainted in black, with the darkness seemingly always behind his back. but with all the darkness and color of the abyss present in his being… he can't seem to find the ink that will pen words that you deserve. since akutagawa loves with his actions and not his words. he'll shield you from bullets instead of telling you he'll protect you. he'll slaughter his own allies to save you instead of saying that you're the only one that matters. he'll take a claw to his heart instead of saying that you're his heart anyway.

since ryuunosuke akutagawa's love is too steep, too high. that even mere words can no longer reach it. that his vocal chords cannot contain it. ryuunosuke akutagawa decided to fall silent since no words can express what he feels anyway. his love, cannot be expressed with mere words. but perhaps the hand behind your nape and the bloody lips on yours is an indication. perhaps the claw that ripped his heart can express what his words cannot.

ryuunosuke akutagawa is a silent lover. for his love is higher than words that he decided to fall eternally silent for you.

author’s note(s): shit format and shittier content. will fix it when idk. send me some asks T T

[knight-rider-fan-2000]

Something About "Autonomy" and all that

Summary: Kitt is programmed to follow Michael's every order. And on a calm day, Michael finally realizes this, and he can't put into words what it might mean.

4601 words

---

"Not this station again." Kitt lamented as Michael tweaked the radio dial.

"Oh, come on, pal, they're playing Cindy! You can't say no to Cindy."

"I certainly can." There was a smile in his voice as his modulator lights flashed- Michael knew him well enough to tell that.

The radio fizzed, and the bright vocals were replaced by the whine of violins. How Kitt even found this stuff was beyond Michael. 

"Geez. Turn the radio back, Kitt. Quit teasing-"

In an instant, the station changed back to the one Michael had selected. Kitt's voice modulator lights did not even flicker. He waited an extra second, five seconds, ten seconds for any sort of protest from the AI, but there was only silence. 

Well, not silence, but Michael couldn't hear the singer on the radio anymore. Not when he was listening for any other sort of sound in the cabin around him; the hum of fans, the activation of dashboard lights, the subtle moves and changes of the car. 

"Kitt?" He asked.

"Yes, Michael?"

"Why'd you change the radio back?"

"You told me to." 

"But you don't like my music."

"An astute observation, Michael."

"Then you didn't have to change it back."

"Of course I did. Don't be absurd."

Michael gripped the steering yoke tighter. "No, you didn't."

"Michael, really. Part of my annoyance with your music is merely comedic. Please don't be concerned about it. I can stop if you'd like."

"No!" Michael said louder. The word had slipped out, like a tire on an icy road. He took a breath and quieted his voice again. "No. I don't want you to do that."

"Then what would you like?" Kitt's tone was calm, but Michael knew it was an illusion- it was clinical, the kind of tone that he only used when speaking with authorities on the phone. 

"I don't want you changing yourself for me." 

Kitt's lights flickered, but he said nothing. 

"We clear?" Michael asked.

"Again, don't be absurd. I'm a learning computer. It's my purpose to modify myself to best support you."

"You don't serve me."

There was a garbled pitch preceding his next sentence- was that a laugh? "Of course I do." 

Michael couldn't speak.

"To further elaborate, both you and I have emphasized that ours is an equal partnership. In that way, you could argue that we are both serving each other- but do not get confused, Michael. I'm programmed to follow your orders."

"Turn the music off." Michael says, on instinct, only to have his breath catch in his throat as the song dies immediately. Instinct. Pure instinct. 

"Your heart rate is elevated. This is causing you distress." Kitt replies.

"You're my partner."

"I am also your car. Do cars not need drivers?"

"You don't."

"Actually, I do. Michael, it's not like you to doubt your importance to our mission. What is going on?"

He breathed, trying to calm his heart as well as the unnamed thing that felt like it was crawling around in his chest. It was something like dread. He didn't feel dread very often. Couldn't say he liked it very much. 

He started off slowly, giving time for his thoughts to solidify. It must have seemed like an eternity to the AI. "Kitt, every police officer knows what he's getting into when he signs up for the job."

"Understandably."

"You don't become a cop on accident. In fact, you don't do any sort of work as an accident."

"Surely people don't plan on working in drive throughs, do they?"

"They still have to fill out their application and hand over their resume." Michael snapped. "But people, people have got options."

"And?"

"Kitt. . . if you had the choice, would you be doing this line of work?"

"Of course!" Kitt raised his volume. "Michael, what has gotten into you? Of course I'd stay with you. This is what I was built for. I'd surely feel unfulfilled anywhere else. Could you imagine me trying to find other employment? Trying to be a taxi, or heaven forbid, a delivery driver? I shudder just thinking about it."

"But you don't have a choice."

"Why on Earth would I need one? I have you, Bonnie, Devon, the Foundation- I couldn't ask for a better set of circumstances."

"But you don't have a choice." Michael tried to inject even a fraction of the feeling within his chest into his voice, even if he knew Kitt couldn't figure it any more than he himself could. 

"I fail to see your-"

"What if I was a jerk to you, huh? I was a real jerk to you at first, don't you remember? What if I never got better? What if I left trash in your seats and never let you listen to your own music or-"

"Permission to interrupt?"

Michael's first instinct was to snap- he didn't like being interrupted. He'd already told Kitt that long ago. . . and Kitt had listened, hadn't he?

"Of course." He said.

"What you're proposing is irrelevant. That is purely a hypothetical scenario, not reflective of reality. A strawman argument." Kitt replied.

"Just consider it. If you had ended up with a sleazebag, how would you have gotten out of that?"

"I would have reported any behavioral infractions of this hypothetical version of yourself to Devon."

"And if he ignored them?"

"He wouldn't."

"But what if he did?"

"Michael," Kitt paused, something like a breath, "what you're arguing about is just semantics. Let's end this conversation, and let me take the wheel so that you can calm down."

"No. I want to keep driving."

It was in the silence that followed that Michael's grip on the steering yolk grew looser as he realized what he’d done. 

---

"Bonnie."

"Hmm?" The mechanic looked up from her book. 

"Kitt's programmed to follow my orders, right?"

"Of course. Has there been a problem?"

A problem, she asked. A problem with Kitt, as if it would somehow be his fault instead of-

"So he doesn't have a choice."

Bonnie closed her book. "Yes?"

Under her gaze, he struggled to organize the thoughts in his brain just the same as he struggled under Kitt's. "Is that right?"

"Michael, what's going on?"

"You and I both know that Kitt is more than just silicon and wires." That was a statement he could be confident of. "So is it right that he has no choice?"

"He needs to follow your orders. You're his driver." 

"Does he need a driver?"

"Are you arguing against your own employment?" Bonnie put her book on the end table and stood from her chair. "As much as I'd love to remove humans from the equation entirely, the technology isn't there yet. I can't give Kitt legs and hands yet, so I have to settle with you."

"I'm being serious!" Michael snapped.

"As was I!"

"Kitt's a person! People have rights, don't they?"

She looked him up and down. "Didn't take you for the philosophical type."

"I'm not being philosophical, I'm being a good person!" He spat. "If I'm holding Kitt here against his will-"

"Against his will? Michael, he likes you more than I do."

"Because he doesn't know that he could have other options. Because there's code in his head telling him to obey me even if he doesn't like it."

Bonnie opened her mouth, but didn't say anything. 

"So you're gonna remove that code." Michael continued.

"Hold on. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course I know what I'm-"

"And we need to have this conversation with Kitt."

That much he could agree on. "He should be finished discussing data with Devon by now."

Bonnie grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair. Michael led the way out of the drawing room of the mansion, tracing the fastest path back to the garage, a route so routine he could walk it blind. 

Kitt's glossy frame was parked in the same spot as always inside the garage- there was not even a tire mark out of place on the concrete. His scanner swooped back and forth at a pace equal to that of footsteps, before calming as he noticed Michael and Bonnie's entrance.

"Apologies. I wasn't expecting you."

"You done with Devon?" Michael asked.

"Yes. I just finished sending the last of my report."

"Good job." He replied instinctively. 

"Bonnie, you look upset. And Michael, I can't say you look much better. What is going on?" Kitt asked, sliding his scanner in their direction. 

"Michael got it up in his head that you don't want to be here." Bonnie said. "So we're going to-"

"I didn't say that!" Michael snapped.

"Oh. This again." Kitt lamented. 

"You've talked about this before?" Bonnie asked.

"He doesn't get it! None of you get it!" He gestured to them both. "Something's wrong."

"Alright," Bonnie crossed her arms, "tell us exactly what it is you have a problem with."

Michael paused. Yet again his brain was having trouble forming simple words. This was starting to get irritating- he'd thought faster under fire of actual bullets before, so what was tripping him up so badly?

Bonnie tapped her fingers against her arm. Kitt waited without a sound.

He went with something he'd brought up earlier. "Kitt doesn't have a choice."

"You're going to have to be more specific." Bonnie replied.

"I don't see how that fact is relevant." Kitt added.

"Kitt is forced to follow my orders-"

"By design." Bonnie replied.

"Bonnie, let him finish." Kitt said.

Michael gave a nod to him, breathed out whatever retort he had planned for her, and then started over. 

"Kitt is forced to follow my orders. . . and I'm not okay with that."

A small few pixels of Kitt's scanner lit up, but he paused, waiting for Bonnie. She, however, only stared at her arms. 

"Why are you not comfortable with our arrangement anymore?" Kitt asked.

"Because I didn't think about it when I really should have. You're my partner. My buddy. Pal, I consider you an equal." 

"I don't doubt that, Michael."

"Which means that you shouldn't be forced to follow my orders."

"It's not 'being forced'." Bonnie looked up. "It's how he's programmed."

"You stuck a rule in his head that he can't say no to me."

Kitt spoke. "Michael, that is a vast oversimplification and I still fail to see the issue. It's my purpose to follow your orders."

Michael looked Bonnie in the eye and gestured to Kitt's hood. "You don't see the problem here?"

She paused. "Michael, he's an AI-"

"Put him in a human body and he could walk and talk like the rest of us. Don't act like he couldn't."

"I strongly disagree." Kitt routed his voice through his interior speakers instead of his external ones, creating a sort of muffled effect not unlike that of a whisper.

The fact that Kitt had bothered to figure out a way to achieve that sort of effect at all was further evidence to prove Michael's point. 

Bonnie walked over and put her hand on Kitt's hood. "I see what you're getting at, but he's not a human. He needs his programming to function."

"I know that! It's not about that."

“Michael,” Kitt said, “do you know that I’m quite fond of our arrangement?”

“Because you don’t know any better. Because you can’t know any better, not with that rule in your head that says you can’t disagree with me.”

“I certainly can disagree with you! I’m doing so right now. Seriously, Michael, do you remember the countless times we’ve bickered or quarreled?”

“That’s not what I. . .”

“I do not simply agree with everything you say. Do you really think of me so lowly?”

“No. Of course not. But you’re still under the control of whatever I say, right? If I told you, right now, that I didn’t want you to like your music anymore, would you be forced to change your mind?”

“While that would be cruel and unusual punishment, I would do so.” Kitt replied, but before Michael could speak again, he continued, “because I trust your judgment.”

“I- thanks.” Michael said quietly. 

“And that’s the root of it. I give my suggestions, I disagree with your actions, yet at the end of the day, we all know that you have the ability to make decisions that I can’t even fathom that lead us to success. If I had a coin, as they say, for every time I failed to understand your reasoning, I’d have a significant sum of change. I can calculate the exact dollar value, if you’d like.”

“No need.” Bonnie covered her mouth to hide a giggle.

Michael wasn’t laughing. “I’m glad that you trust me that much. That still doesn’t change the fact that I have the power and you don’t.”

“Come here, Michael?”

Kitt opened his door. Michael walked over, ran his hand over the handle, before slipping into the driver’s seat. Before he could reach out and shut the door, Kitt did it for him. 

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Kitt’s lights flickered dimly. “I don’t want your ‘power’.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t make decisions like you. And frankly, I don’t want to. It sounds very stressful. I’m already managing a menagerie of functions. I do not intend to add decision-making to that list.”

“Of course you can follow my lead, pal. I’m not saying I don’t want you with me.”

“Then what are you implying?”

“Humans follow orders. But humans always have a choice to not follow an order they disagree with.”

“And that delay in decision time could cost you your life.” Kitt raised his volume.

“What do you mean?”

“Bonnie, could you explain something for me, please?”

Kitt opened his passenger door and Bonnie sat down.

“What’d I miss?” She asked.

“Can you explain what factors determine the length of my response time?”

“Sure. That’s easy, unless you really want me to dive into the specifics.”

“An overview would be more appropriate.”

“In any given scenario, Kitt has to consider all of the relevant data from his scanners. Where his body is in the world, what’s around him, and so on. Then he determines what’s needed of him, and how he can best operate to fulfill that need so long as it doesn’t defy his core programming to protect and uphold human life. 

“And if I’m not provided with a need to fulfill?” Kitt asked.

“Well, then you have to decide what to do, right?” Bonnie shrugged towards the dashboard. “And that is the tricky part. Most of the breakthroughs that we made with Kitt were towards his ability to figure out what to do in the absence of input. Think about it- there’s a million things that you or I could do at this given moment in time.”

“We have choices.”

“Exactly. But computers need to know what variables to calculate in order to function. Where Kitt is special is that he can determine his own instructions to operate by.”

“Okay, makes sense.”

“And it’s extremely intensive on his operating system to do. Driving is one thing- the rules of the road provide a good, defined set of decisions for him to choose from -but everything else is significantly more of a struggle. Right, Kitt?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Kitt said meekly.

“Frankly, when we first designed him, we never imagined that he’d do much more than be able to drive himself.”

“I resent that.” Kitt said, significantly louder.

“-Which means that he’s proven more successful than our wildest hopes.” Bonnie smiled and placed her hand on the dashboard.

“That’s interesting and all,” Michael said, “but what does this have to do with him following my orders?”

“Michael, if I had to stop and evaluate every alternative option to your commands whenever you gave them, my reaction time would be in minutes, not seconds.” Kitt replied. “Because I’m programmed to follow your orders, I don’t even have to think about it, and that saves me a significant amount of processing power and time that could be better used to keep you safe.”

Michael paused. 

“Therefore it’s to my benefit that I remain programmed the way that I am.” Kitt continued.

“I get it.” Michael said. “I really do. But that’s a lot of trust.”

“Is this new to you?”

“‘Course not.” Michael couldn’t help but laugh a little. “But it still doesn’t erase the fact that you’ve never had a choice otherwise.”

“I’ve tried to explain it to the best of my abilities. If you still don’t understand, perhaps you never will.” Kitt replied.

“No, I think you’re the one not understanding. You’ve been programmed this way since the day you came online, right?”

“Yeah, he has.” Bonnie replied.

“So not even for a day, not even for a second, you’ve never experienced otherwise.”

“I’m failing to understand what ‘otherwise’ might mean.” Kitt replied.

“Okay, how about this.” Michael sighed. “I want you to try having that programming removed for a little bit.”

“What? Michael, don’t be absurd. I refuse to go on a mission with you while my system is compromised-”

“Not on a mission. Just around here. Surely Devon can schedule us a day off to try this.”

“Still, it would be a significant modification, wouldn’t it?”

“Actually,” Bonnie said, “it wouldn’t be too difficult to disable.”

“It wouldn’t?” Kitt sounded aghast.

“From a technical standpoint. What I’m saying is that it is doable.”

“Kitt, I’m not trying to hurt you. But I want you to try this.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s important to me.”

There was only a second’s hesitation. “Alright. I trust you.”

—

It didn’t take Bonnie long to get Kitt plugged into her work station. Soon, the lines of code that made up Kitt, strands of everything that he was and maybe everything he ever would be scrolled up and down the screen according to Bonnie’s touch. Michael couldn’t read any of it, of course. The one book he’d tried to read on binary already didn’t make much sense and he knew that Kitt was vastly, vastly more complex than that.

Bonnie narrowed in on a specific line, typed in a command, and turned around. “That should be it.”

“What?” Michael asked. “Just like that?”

“Just like that?” Kitt asked simultaneously. 

“It should be. But we’d have to test it to confirm. Michael?”

“Kitt,” Micheal hesitated. “Open your door.”

Kitt opened his driver’s side door immediately.

“Hmm.” Bonnie turned back around.

“There’s no need, Bonnie.” Kitt said. “I’ve verified that the corresponding section of core programming has been nullified for the time being.”

“Then why did you open your door?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Michael stared into Kitt’s interior, stared at the flickering lights of his voice modulator. 

“Kitt, turn on my favorite radio station.”

“We’re out of range of that one, how about 98.6, Pop Central?”

“Turn it on.”

Kitt’s speakers activated and Madonna blared into the garage.

“Okay, stop, stop.” Michael waved. Kitt stopped as soon as the first hiss of an ‘s’ left his mouth. “Buddy, you’re supposed to try saying no to me.”

“But why would I?”

“Because you hate my music.”

“But it’s harmless.” Kitt retorted.

“But you didn’t have to turn it on.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Okay, this wasn’t working. Bonnie, who was now leaning up against her work station, only gave a shrug, before glancing towards the garage door.

Michael got an idea. “Kitt, back through the garage door, now.”

“Wha-” Kitt’s voice fizzled out. “Michael, that’s absurd.”

“Do it. Now.”

“That would cause property damage to the FLAG facility! There’s absolutely no source of danger anywhere near here, and therefore no justification-”

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Michael smiled. 

But instead of a witty comeback, or a snarky insult, or even a swoop of his scanner, Kitt grew deathly still. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“Michael.” Kitt said quietly.

He walked closer. “What is it?”

“I don’t like this.” Kitt cracked his window and spoke from his interior speakers. Michael had to lean his ear close to the window to even hear it. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t ever give me a false order again.”

“Huh?”

“Do not command me to do something that you do not intend me to do.” Kitt enunciated every consonant. 

“Kitt, that was just an-”

“I don’t like this. How much longer do you want Bonnie to disable the code?”

Michael put his hand on Kitt’s roof. “I was hoping to go out for a drive with you at least.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know you don’t, but I want you to feel what it’s-”

“No.”

Michael stopped. He felt a shudder pass through Kitt’s frame, and the hum of cooling fans leaked into the open air.

“I refuse.” Kitt said, quieter. “You have asked me to express my ability to refuse, and I’m doing so now. If an emergency were to occur when we were off FLAG premises, I want to operate at my full capacity.”

“But-” Michael stopped himself. “Okay.”

“. . . this is strange. I don’t like denying you like this.”

“I know you don’t.”

“You were worried that if I was given the choice, I would leave you.” Kitt continued.

“I’m not worried about that. Never was.” Michael lied. “I was more worried about forcing you to do things you didn’t want to do.”

“Sure,” said Kitt, “but since I sense that it’s important to you that I tell you this during this time: I want to continue being your partner. I want to serve you and follow your orders.”

Michael smiled. 

“And that while I don’t like your music, I will tolerate it because it makes you happy. While sometimes your decisions seem questionable, your judgment is sound, and you have yet to steer me wrong, both figuratively and literally.”

“Well!” Michael slapped Kitt’s roof. “That’s great to hear.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Kitt swooped his scanner once. “Imagine if I had ended up with a driver who didn’t care about my opinion. I certainly can’t.”

The reminder made Michael pause, but he recovered quickly enough. “Me neither, Kitt. Me neither.” 

“Now that this is settled, Bonnie, if you would?”

Bonnie turned back to her computer and began typing away. Kitt was silent until she turned around again and gave a thumbs up.

“There. That’s better.” Kitt said. “Michael, are you satisfied with our experiment?”

“Yeah.” Michael tapped his fingers against Kitt’s roof in whatever pattern he could think of, anything to distract him from the lingering traces. “I am. Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome. Now get some rest!” Kitt opened the door and bumped Michael slightly. “You know it’s never long until our next mission.”

Michael walked to the exit to the garage, only turning around to give a salute to his trusty getaway car. “Yes sir!” 

—

He tried his damndest but he couldn’t follow Kitt’s orders. He sat up in his bed. The bed here at the Foundation mansion was more comfortable than most of the hotels he usually stayed in. Whether it was comfier than Kitt’s interior was up for debate. He rubbed his face with his hands.

On his nightstand was his commlink. Kitt felt comfortable enough here at the mansion to let him take it off at night. Yet its weight was missing from Michael’s wrist. Maybe he’d sleep better with it on, but he didn’t want to disturb Kitt from his own rest. Or. . . whatever it was that Kitt did at night while the world was asleep.

Michael sighed. He reached over and grabbed the commlink. Immediately the red light on it flashed. Kitt was awake and metaphorically looking his way, so he might as well let him get the full picture. He slipped the commlink on and tightened it against his wrist, ensuring that all the biological monitors were lined up how they were supposed to be.

The red light flickered, before growing solid. “Michael, what is it?”

“Hey Kitt. Can’t sleep.”

“It’s about me again, isn’t it?”

Right on the money, as always. “Maybe.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“Here’s fine.” Michael gestured around his room. 

“I’ve done some reading on the subject to try and understand what is bothering you.” Kitt said. “So far I haven’t been able to understand much of it. I’m afraid I’m not the target audience.”

“Gosh, you aren’t reading the really old stuff, are you? That stuff’s all quacks.”

“You might not want to tell Devon that.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat. “You haven’t told him about this, have you?”

“I have not.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“I. . . don’t think he’d understand.” 

“In all fairness, it appears I don’t either.” Kitt replied. “Do you want to try and explain it to me?”

“Trust me, pal, I’ve been trying to do that all day.” Michael laughed. “But I’ll try it again.”

“Take your time.” Kitt said gently. His light on the commlink gave a slow blink.

Michael closed his eyes. Rubbed his face again. Tried to think back to his days before he met Kitt. It was days like these that he felt out of touch with normal society- days where he was thinking about things that a normal person wouldn’t spend half a second on, things like “personhood” and “free will” and all that stuff. Bonnie was right. He wasn’t a philosopher. 

After a few minutes, he still couldn’t come up with anything that sounded reasonable. All he had was his own discomfort. Maybe that was it.

Michael tapped his commlink. “You still there?”

“Of course, Michael.”

“Maybe it’s like- maybe it’s that I would hate to be in your position.”

“You would?” Kitt was aghast.

“Now don’t take it the wrong way.” Michael wagged his finger as if Kitt could see him. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t imagine being forced to do whatever someone says, regardless of how much I trusted them. If someone had total control of my life, could override my movements, could even override how I think with just a few words. . . I’d be terrified, not going to lie to you.”

Kitt paused. “You would be.”

“I’d hate it.”

“It’s as you said: you could not imagine it.” Kitt stated. “Perhaps I’m beginning to understand your discomfort.”

“And the idea that I could be doing that to somebody else is. . .” Michael couldn’t think of a word.

“Equally terrifying?”

“Maybe.” 

“Michael, if it helps, I’m grateful you consider me to be your equal. But I’m not a human. You are. I think your idea of what is ‘terrifying’ might be very different from mine.” 

“But that’s the kicker- should it be?”

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t be. Perhaps one day I’ll have a greater understanding of your fear. But until then, I will have to settle with making sure my opinion is heard.” Kitt injected some levity in his voice. 

“I’d appreciate that, pal.”

“Now, is there anything I can do to help you get some rest?”

“Unfortunately not. That’s between me and my dumb human body, I’m afraid.”

“There it is again!” Kitt exclaimed. “That difference between body and mind that seems to preoccupy a large portion of human philosophical thought on personhood.”

“Goodnight, Kitt.” Michael laughed.

“Goodnight, Michael.” Kitt lowered his volume again. 

Michael slid off the commlink and set it back on the nightstand. He pulled himself back under the covers and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t sleep, but the clenching feeling in his chest finally lifted.

[tavolgisvist]

Allen Klein is a businessman. He has had dealings with a guy called Tony Calder who worked as a partner for Andrew Oldham. The three of them managed the affairs of the Rolling Stones. Oldham & Calder left the Stones scene, but Klein stayed. … Tony has something on his mind that is why he is taking me to work in his Morgan. He says: ‘Allen Klein says you are in his way. Allen says you are blocking him from meeting the Beatles and doing business with them.’ I am amazed. I say, ‘I never give Allen Klein a thought from one year to the next. What is the guy talking about, me being in his way?’ … So I tell Tony if Klein thinks I am in his way, and as I’m not in his way, I’d better show the guy I’m not, by moving out of the way anyone else who might be in his way. I tell Tony to tell Klein I am (a) not in his way, and (b) if anyon I tell Tony to tell Klein to call. I go into work at Apple and I see Peter Brown, Brian’s old pal, mine, the Beatles, Apple’s and so on. Peter knows many things. I say, ‘Allen Klein wants to meet the Beatles.’ ‘Does he ever,’ says Peter. I ask: ‘Is there anyone in his way?’ Peter says, ‘Only the Beatles.’ He explains Brian didn’t like Klein and the Beatles had never heard anything about him that attracted them either. … I say there is this guy Klein who badly wants to see them. John says yeah, Klein’s been trying to reach him but he won’t take the call. I do some hype for Klein and say he is a strange cat, hated by some of the people who met him and also by some of the people who have only heard of him. George says, ‘he sounds really nice’, and I say that if they want someone to run their money scene then Klein may be the man. But I also say they had better look at him very hard and ask around Jagger and Donovan and the others he handles. I mean really check Klein out. But see him too. See him face to face. John says OK, I’ll see him and the others rhubarb a bit and that’s the lunch over. I call Les Perrin and tell him tell Klein to call and Klein does and then he flies over really fast, like yesterday. He meets John, they talk all night and boy do they dig each other. John comes into the office and says, ‘Don’t care about the others, don’t give a shit … but I’m having Klein, he can have all of my stuff and get it sorted out.’ John says there is too much fear around, everyone must stop being frightened, everything is going to be fantastic, like Klein is going to be the genie of the lamp. Paul, George and Ringo get to meet Klein and he begins to act as if he is half-hired but maybe not. He says he will save Northern Songs from the wicked Lew Grade. He says he will buy NEMS Enterprises. He says he will take EMI to the cleaners. In the end he doesn’t save Northern Songs and he doesn’t buy NEMS Enterprises, but takes EMI and Capitol to the cleaners and to hell and back… …

It is 1970. Paul still doesn’t like Klein but John digs him more than ever and George digs him more than that and Ringo doesn’t mind him. Paul? He is so uptight about Klein he only leaves the Beatles, that’s all. Klein and me meet the press and TV and all that; together we sit on a sofa and talk about Paul. Mr Klein, why doesn’t Paul like you? Mr Taylor, why doesn’t Paul like Mr Klein? I don’t know, don’t ask me, man, don’t ask me. Paul releases his album and Klein releases the Beatles’ album and they both make a million and Klein has had Phil Spector remix Paul’s song ‘The Long and Winding Road’, adding a women’s choir and some violins etc. Paul thinks this is the shittiest thing anyone has ever done to him and that is saying something, but Klein laughs up his silk sleeve and releases ‘Long and Winding Road’ as a single anyway and still with Phil’s new arrangement. Up there in Scotland, Paul McCartney, one of the four owners of Apple, the company formed to give total freedom, artistic control, to struggling performers and writers, wonders what went wrong, when even he can’t control his own work. I am wondering too. Everyone is wondering. But Klein isn’t wondering. He knows, he knows. …

Money is pouring into Apple so I guess you could say that Allen Klein straightened Apple out as the Beatles wanted it. The only thing is … where is Apple and where are the Beatles? If you find out, please let me know, I haven’t seen them in a long time. The way I see it, Klein is really bringing a whole lot of people down, including me sometimes and I have a deal which keeps me at home writing stuff like this so what am I whining about? Well, being as how I brought Klein to Apple, by making sure the way was clear, I owe someone, somewhere something, that’s for sure. What is it and what have I done? Our Apple is all chewed up. It is the most ungroovy place I ever knew and I have to say it, we have all let it happen, all of us, but me, I told Tony Calder to tell Klein to call and if I am going to make any more mistakes about Allen Klein, then let it be writing this, let it be.

(Derek Taylor, As Time Goes By, 1973)

(Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI)

[sgiandubh]

Umpteenth (and blocked) Gay Anon

You just couldn't help yourself. Again. Just had to do it yesterday: what the heck, let's try and see if it sticks. Again.

Uh, oh. To no avail. Again.

But because I had no fucking idea of what you were talking about, I took my Hazmat suit and went for a stroll on Data Lounge.

And yeah, surely enough, it took me just about 15 seconds to hit the crap-pot:

You're that transparent. Same grammar mistakes as my particularly challenged Anon I am regularly torturing in here. LOL?

But God forbid you'd notice the common sense fact that Tovey posed with just about everybody in attendance the same way he posed with S:

And God forbid you'd notice also that, when snapped unaware, the pic tells a different story: a relaxed conversation between two pals, one of which has buried his hands in his pockets (S) and the other is blocking with the wine glass (R).

And FYI, your best frenemy, *urv, didn't go anywhere. She was just baiting her inane mob, throwing in a (plaintive violins, please - no drums) pathetic medical narrative, for sympathy:

Best part? "I was never into Sam". 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😵🙄

Hell just froze. Sure enough, she was never into S. Not as *urv, anyways, but as Scilla - her avatar in the Twilight fandom. Puffy lived enough to tell that tale:

You'd profitably also read this post from Puffy, btw: https://justmakeitadouble.wordpress.com/2018/09/27/stalking-101-the-manip/

*urv still uses even today the same sharpie blackout technique on the pics she is posting (now using Tipp-Ex white, who the hell does this woman think she's fooling?). But gave up the inserting 'erself in the pics part: at 50+, it's a bit late for this particular kind of shit game.

Also, this:

Sounds familiar? It should, she does this every single time a 'new crush' hits the billboard.

Thought it would be a pity to lose all this historical info. But cue in 'you're Puffy' Anons in 4, 3, 2...

ROFLMAO. The true story is always more interesting than this rubbish.

[wrenfxrever]

coraline au | not my au | radioapple

creds to @deadspaceguy for coming up with this! <3

The other papa leaped on the piano seat as he readied his hands, raising them up above the keys. Finally, he slammed them down, the notes ringing out around the house.

  “Making up a song about Charlie…she’s a peach, she’s a doll, she’s a pal of miiine…” Lucifer grinned, his grin almost resembling the other father’s.

  “She’s as cute as a button, in the eyes of everyone who ever laid their eyes on Char-a-lieee…”

Charlie’s mouth hung in awe, her eyes shining with amazement. She hadn’t seen Lucifer this joyful since his and Alastor’s wedding, which was many years ago. After their honeymoon Lucifer had always been busy with work. Not to mention, her papa couldn’t even play piano.

  All of the sudden two gloved hands sprung up from the piano, the violin matching the piano’s rhythm.

  “When she comes around exploring, me and dad will never make it boring, our eyes will be on Char-a-lie-”

  “I, uh…sorry, but Al told me to tell you that the food is ready…erm.”

Lucifer spun around, the smile from earlier still plastered across his face.

  “Mmm…who’s starving, raise your hand?” Lucifer lightly grabbed Charlie’s wrist, raising it into the air. Charlie giggled, a smile forming on her own lips.

  “Well we should give our thanks to your lovely father, who cooked us this delicious deer. You really didn’t have to go hunting today, Al.”

  “I know how much our little Charlotte loves roasted deer, mon ange…” Alastor directed his gaze to Charlie, who rolled her eyes at the nickname. Lucifer giggled, leaning across the table to kiss Alastor’s cheek. “Oh, hush up now…you know Char-Char hates that.” Alastor blushed and gripped his fork, ringing the bell across from him. Charlie’s smirk widened as she immediately grabbed a part of the venison, taking a healthy bite from the thickest part.

  “Mmm! This is really good!”

  Alastor laughed. “Hungry, are we?”

  “Yeah,” Charlie replied, scooping mashed potatoes onto her plate. “But do we have any gravy?”

Lucifer gave her a loving smile, tapping his fingers on the table while staring intently at her.

  “Well I’m glad you asked! Here comes the gravy train…choo choo!”

At that moment a train made its way around the table, stopping in front of Charlie to pour a generous amount of gravy onto her plate.

  “Another roll? Sweet peas? Corn on the cob?” Alastor questioned, growing closer to Charlie with each listing.

  “I’m, like, really thirsty,” Charlie responded, leaning back in her chair haphazardly.

  “Of course, dear!” Alastor shot back. “Any requests?”

Charlie thought for a moment. “Strawberry milkshake?” Vaggie had told her strawberry milkshakes were her favorite, causing her to blush a little. The chandelier above her lowered, the spout pouring out a lovely blush-pink mixture. Charlie gulped it down, savoring the sweet taste. It smelled just like Vaggie too, Charlie thought.

  Suddenly her papa set out a delicious-looking pink frosted cake in front of her, the hot pink words spelling out “Welcome home!”.

  Charlie’s smile disappeared as fast as it came.

  “H-home?”

Alastor got up behind Lucifer’s chair, rubbing his shoulders rhythmically.

  “We’ve been waiting for you, Char.” Lucifer smiled warmly, his big black buttons becoming very apparent to Charlie.

  “For…me?”

  “Yes! Isn’t quite the same here without you…Charlie.”

Charlie wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a little uneasy. “I didn’t know I had an other father.”

  “Of course you do, darling! Everyone does,” Alastor butt in, his eyes too, gleaming.

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh! Now once you’re done eating, I thought we could play a game! You know how much papa loves games,” Lucifer spoke. He tapped his fingers faster on the table.

this is just part one !! stay tuned :)