#weekly publishing is hell

[summer-oil]

you know . i keep saying that i’m gonna make a post abt chapter 268 and i probably will as soon as i can get my thoughts in order but ………. i’ve been thinking a lot about the conclusion to sukuna’s and yuji’s relationship . and even though i wish we had more buildup beforehand i do think the ending itself is really really good…. even if sukuna is technically yuji’s uncle, yuji’s soul still represents the soul of the younger brother sukuna ate in the womb, so for yuji to accept sukuna, to not curse him at the very last moment…. it feels very . intentional. like the younger brother is forgiving the older brother for doing what he had to do to survive. sukuna rejects the forgiveness, which makes sense, but i wonder if he felt that way too…. that he was being pitied, forgiven, and loved by the first weakling he devoured……..

idk. they make me insane though

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton​, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman​ and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

[piccolos-bigtoe]

Mock-up semi finished fake weekly western pulp bookcover for my daydream of writing a Sniper Scout sweet sweet cowboy love western... I have some writings in the works that I may or may not publish here but will (given that I finish them...) post on my trusty AO3 account. I've been attempting to get back into my drawing mood...

As far as I have it, the plot follows Sniper who immigrates from Australia to Midwestern U.S. (ala Quigley Down Under but reverse, for anyone who knows that movie) in an attempt to find a new life and escape his past one. In the midst of his travels, he runs into Scout, a loudmouthed gunslick who doesn't look for trouble but always attracts it (and never turns it away). Scout ends up in over his head when he fatally shoots the son of a rather large outlaw gangs leader, forcing him to skip town or risk death.

He finds his ticket out of town when he learns Sniper is a wandering traveler and good with a rifle. Scout asks (begs) to join him in his travels, leaving out the fact that he killed a man. When the outlaws searching for him discover his whereabouts, Sniper is implicated as an accessory and becomes a target. Despite feeling betrayed by Scout withholding the truth, Sniper knows neither of them can fight off outlaws on their own, and he doubts he'll be able to explain himself before being killed. They decide to stick together and go on the run.

Yay boom pow crasshhh story excerpt. There would likely be no overarching plot, it would just be whatever I feel like writing for their travels and encounters, like 'solving a murder mystery' or 'coyote hunting for an isolated farm,' just whatever I wanna do in this world. I'm also playing with the idea of a post apocalyptic world similar to Fallout New Vegas coz I really like the vibes in it and I do want to keep ideas of tech in there the same way regular TF2 has impossible technology for the time, but I also want to have fucked up monsters like radroaches and giant mantis's because it's cool as hell.

[nihildes]

"Luigi Galleani, author of the anarchist classic, The End of Anarchism? (1925) was, during his lifetime, among the most significant and best-known anarchist-communists. Largely forgotten for decades he has recently been re-discovered by the generation of anarchists politicized during the alternative globalization struggles. A supporter of “propaganda by deed” Galleani’s weekly newspaper Cronaca Sovversiva, published while he was in exile in America, gained international attention during the trial of Sacco and Vanzetti. The supposed association of the two accused anarchists with the paper was used as evidence of their avowal of violence.

As a defender of “propaganda by deed,” the perspective used to explain acts of violence and attacks on property, Galleani refused to separate individual acts of rebellion from the context in which they arose. Likewise he declined to separate individual acts of rebellion from the broader revolutionary process, seeing it as a necessary phase between theoretical affirmation and insurrectionary movement. For Galleani, there is no point in condemning such an act because it originates in an intricate convergence of predisposing conditions which, at certain times, demand it. Galleani presents “propaganda by deed” as the manual counterpart to the intellectual labour of speeches, writings, denunciations and public meetings. One fulminates, the other acts; both are necessary." - Jeff Shantz

"The State sees only a criminal in anyone who breaks a law and, by delivering him to a dozen bigots or butchers, is certain to have him committed to the executioner, to the penitentiary, to hell in any case.

The conventionally-minded cry out contradictorily that “Human life is sacred and inviolable, and whoever attacks it offends both divine and human laws”; while they are fattening their wallets and their bellies without the least scruple; condemning the helots toiling in the fields, the factories and the mines to starvation, despair and early death, their women to prostitution and their children to the gutter. Or else, they push them over frontiers into monstrous slaughter tor the sake of a killing in the stock market." - The End of Anarchism? by Luigi Galleani

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter five:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: fighting, misunderstanding, mentions of cheating

➴ word count: 3.2k

➴ author’s note: shit hit the fan yall… who the hell is going to fix this mess..

YOU woke up at ten to two after sleeping for seven hours straight. One thing about stressed you, is that you'd sleep for twenty-four hours if given the opportunity.

But you were thirsty and you needed to get your hands on a glass of water before you died from dehydration.

So, you got up, and made your way to the kitchen, only stopping when you saw your phone blowing up on the counter.

Frowning, you picked it up, confused with the hundreds of notifications on your lock screen.

You completely forgot about your need for water. With your heart on your mouth, you sat on one of your stools, unlocking your phone and texting Grace.

Usually, you didn't care about gossip. You'd always just joke about it on Twitter with your fans and move on.

People liked to invent things and you couldn't exactly stop them. So you just let it happen.

But apparently, Jack was involved in this too. Which left you confused because people didn't know about you two. Or at least, that's what your media team would say, whenever you had a meeting with them— a weekly occurrence, ever since the album was announced.

Typing your name on Google, you didn't have to dig too deep: an article published five hours ago was the first to show up. "Former Flames: NHL Star Jack Hughes Moves On with New Flame After Breakup with Pop Singer, Sophia Montenegro".

What the fuck?

Opening it, you could swear your heart would stop any moment. Hands shaking, you read every line, thinking of everything and nothing at the same time.

It seems love off the ice is just as fast-paced as the action on it for NHL star Jack Hughes. The hockey player, known for his fierce plays and competitive edge, is making headlines for his personal life as well. After a low-profile breakup with pop sensation Sophia Montenegro, Jack Hughes has already moved on-and he's not keeping it a secret.

According to our anonymous sources, the athlete and singer had started dating back in April, after they met at the New Jersey Devils [Jack Hughes' team] charity gala, and kept everything in the dark for six months straight: nothing more than a few Instagram comments and likes to prove anything.

However, despite the chemistry, the relationship ended after Jack was seen with one of his exes last night, Ava Mitchell. Jack Hughes is known for his short-term relationships so it wouldn't be anything new.

We hope Mrs. Montenegro is okay, after her second break-up in less than two years. Maybe our sweet girl, Sophia, has bad luck with relationships.

You didn't bother reading the rest, locking your phone and gently placing it on the counter again.

The rational part of your brain was telling you that none of that was true, and that this was just a gossip magazine doing what’s supposed to be doing, but you recognised the girl in the photo, it was the same girl on Jack’s lap yesterday. And that was obviously Jack, holding her hand like some kind of loving boyfriend.

You sighed, running your hands through your hair. You knew that something like this would happen. All of the good moments you had with Jack apparently were just that: good moments. And now, bad memories.

You knew what you had to do. Keep going, just like you did when Harris broke up with you over text after cheating on you the night before. Keep going, just like you did when your name got dragged into the mud because of that.

But doing that with Jack, for some crazy reason, was harder than you thought it’d be. Maybe because you had a lot of expectations and watching them getting crushed right in front of you sucked.

Your phone buzzed in front of you, Grace’s picture shining. You sighed, before picking it up. “Hi,” you whispered, remembering that you were still thirsty and this was the first word you said in seven hours.

“Hey, baby, how are you?” She sounded worried, and you understood her. This was the first somewhat scandal you’ve had in months. So yeah.

“I just read it…” you took a deep breath. “Gosh, what the hell. What happened after I left?”

You heard Grace move something around before she started speaking again. “Honey, I wish I could tell you something entirely different but… I did see Jack leaving with that girl. I am so sorry. Like, genuinely.”

Your entire body felt like it weighed three times more. Your heart shrank to the size of a pea and you could feel your hand tremble a little bit.

You had seen the picture, you knew that Jack had left the party with the girl but still. It hurt.

“Did you talk to him?” Grace asked, voice worried.

“No, I— Grace, I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, feeling something tickle your cheek. You wiped it with your hands, just to realize that it was tears. You were crying. “I like him so much. I had finally accepted it, I told you— I thought he felt the same.”

“I did too. I don’t know what happened. Maybe… God I hate to say this but maybe you should talk to him?”

You let out a wet laugh. “No way in hell I’m talking to him. I made that mistake with Harris. Every time he’d do something shitty, I’d go after him and talk to him, accept his excuses, his behavior. I’m not that Sophia anymore.”

“I know, I know… I just…” she sounded uncertain. “God. Why are men like this?”

You wiped your tears, smiling for the first time in hours.

“I don’t know.”

“Also, that song you sent me… is it about him?”

You were confused just for a second, before remembering the song you wrote last night— morning?

“Yeah,” you mumbled, feeling just the tiniest bit of embarrassment. “Couldn’t get it out of my head. What’d you think?”

“It’s perfect. Just like everything you write,” you could hear her smiling. You smiled too. “I love you so much, Soph.”

“I love you too, Grace. Don’t worry, I'll be fine,” you sounded like you were trying to convince yourself, and not her. “Let’s just focus on the album and the launching party, right? Fuck Jack Hughes.”

“Yes, you’re right. Fuck him and not in a good way!”

You laughed, feeling the pain inside your chest ease up a little bit.

It was going to be fine.

— ♡

JACK called you three times in the past three days.

You felt shitty not picking up any of his calls because you knew he was away for the entire week, but honestly, you weren’t ready to hear any of his excuses.

So drowning yourself in work was the answer for all of your problems. Day and night, you went to photoshoots and interviews, none of the questions being about you and Jack, thankfully. You knew it was all your team’s doing but still, it felt nice to talk about yourself and your work, and not about men who did nothing but make you hate yourself.

Grace thought you had to at least hear Jack out. But you knew that if you did that, the chances of you forgiving him were high. Higher than they should be. Because you’re still very much in love with him and want to be with him at all times.

“Good work today, guys,” Russel, your choreographer, shouted, everyone clapping together. You were all rehearsing for your launching party, a mini-concert with only a couple hundred people, something to introduce your album.

“Thank you, guys, love you.” You breathed, remembering how you should go back to the gym because singing and dancing at the same time required a lot of effort.

You headed back to your house, staring at the sunset through your car’s window, sighing loudly at the traffic in front of you. It was seven p.m. and you were tired and famished, thinking about all of the take-out options you could order when you got home.

“What the…” you muttered, when you tried entering your garage, but was unable to since there was a car there already. A car that you unfortunately knew very well. “The hell is he doing here?”

Jack was leaning against his car, a crazy thing to do during winter but whatever, wearing a beanie and a Devils hoodie, while looking at something in his phone.

He was supposed to be away. For a week.

Opening your door, you welcomed the cool breeze on your skin. The workout clothes felt too tight on your body and the bag on your hand felt too heavy but you held it tight. He still hadn’t noticed you so maybe you could walk past him without him noticing you?

“Hey, baby,” and yes, of course that didn’t work. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

You looked at him like he was out of his mind, but he just kissed your forehead and grabbed something from inside the car. A Five Guys takeout bag. Fuck him for knowing your favorite burger place.

“I got us food but I think the guy there messed with my order on purpose because he recognised me and he was wearing a Rangers pin which I thought was forbidden during work hours? But I never had a nine to five job so I can’t really tell.”

You continued to move, asking yourself why the hell Jack was so talkative today. Usually, he’d just answer your questions and leave it at that. But he must’ve spent too much time with Luke because damn, this man was a yapper now.

Opening the door, you let him in, not really sure why. Maybe Grace was right and you did need closure, but you expected to have this conversation with him through texts, and not face to face like right now.

He looked so dreamy. He’d shaved, so he looked eighteen years old all over again. His hair, hidden by the beanie, looked longer now and you desperately wanted to run your hands through it. He was standing there, cheeks and lips red, blue eyes looking directly at yours.

Why did he have to be so handsome? It’d all be much easier if he was ugly.

“You’re so quiet today, did something happen?” He asked, yanking you out of the train of thoughts about how handsome he was.

And suddenly, you were back in Harris’ living room, one year ago, watching as the man cried on your lap, apologizing over and over again, saying that he’d never lie to you and that he’d never let you down.

Your stomach was starting to hurt and you felt yourself breathing faster.

“I ran this conversation in my head a thousand times, but I never once imagined you’d just not talk about it and move on, y’know?” You mumbled, heart racing in your chest. “Was it worth it, Jack?”

His confused face made you hurt even more because, somehow, it looked genuine. “What are you talking about? Was what worth it?”

“So you’ll keep denying it?” You raise one eyebrow, feeling the sorrow being replaced by something uglier, something heavier. Something like anger.

“Denying what, Sophia?” He stepped closer, hands reaching to your body, which you dodged. If you’re going to do this, you’ll need every ounce of space in your house. “Sophia, what—”

“I know I have no right to be mad at you for this, because I know we were just fucking,” you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Hell, I was the one who said I didn’t want a relationship first. So I understand why you didn’t reach out to me, why you’re not apologizing, why you’re playing dumb, but—”

“Sophia,” he cut you off, his voice one octave deeper. You shivered, watching as he frowned at you. “I don’t know why you’re saying all of this shit. What the hell happened?”

You looked at him, analyzing his face and, once again, seeing nothing but pure confusion in his expression. You found it hard to believe that he didn’t know about the article, didn’t know about how people were saying that no one stayed with you for a long time, didn’t know about his ex announcing to everyone on her Instagram page that they were together again.

But unfortunately, you also knew that Jack wasn’t a liar. He’d never been, and probably would never be.

“So you don’t know about the article?”

“Article?” He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you talking about gossip pages on Instagram? Soph, you know the only thing I do in that fucking app is like your photos, watch the weird ass reels you send me, and send pictures of ugly animals to my brothers and say it looks like them,”

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you google the article that you had every word memorized by now with how much you’ve read it. Showing it to him, you saw his face go through all stages of emotions: confusion, anger and understanding.

“You didn’t know about this?”

“I don’t read the articles people write about me. I don’t give a fuck about people’s opinions,” he growled, handing your phone back to you and taking his beanie off so he could run his hands through his hair. “I don’t know who the hell sent that information about us.”

“Can’t you see that the problem here isn’t people knowing that we were fucking?” You snapped, almost crushing your phone with how hard you were gripping it. “The problem here, Jack, is you leaving that fucking party with your fucking ex, after she spent half of her night on your lap.”

“The hell is wrong with that, Sophia?” He snapped too, looking angry and annoyed at the same time. “You left with fucking Quinn and didn’t even say goodbye to me. Me leaving with Ava isn’t any fucking different.”

“‘Isn’t any fucking different?’ Fuck you, Jack. Fuck,” you touched his chest with your index finger. “You.”

“Sophia, what is going on? You’re mad at me because I left with Ava? She was fucking out of her mind, drunk as hell, and I just took her home!” He raised his arms, like that was enough of an explanation. “It’s not my fault someone took a picture of us leaving and wrote a fucking article about that.”

“I’m not mad at you, Jack,” you whispered, staring into his eyes, losing yourself all over again, just like you did six months ago. “I’m mad at myself for falling in love with you.”

You were both taken aback by your statement. You had zero intentions of telling Jack how you felt about him because that would just be too much humiliation to handle but now the shit hit the fan and he knew.

“It’s…” he stared, biting his lips and averting your gaze. “It’s not like I cheated on you, Sophia. We aren’t dating.”

Oh.

Right.

You knew something like this would happen and still. Your heart hurts all the same. It isn’t that serious, your brain was yelling at you, get a fucking grip.

“I know,” you whispered, trying to count your breathings. “I know that, Jack. You don’t need to tell me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He stepped closer. “About how you feel?”

“Was it going to change anything?” Your voice quivered with sadness and you hated yourself for it. The plan was to tell him to fuck off and leave him but now you were almost crying and losing your shit in front of him.

“Yes, Sophia, fuck,” he put his hands on your arms, squeezing you slightly. “Of course it was!”

“Jack, no,” you freed yourself from his touch, walking around your living room, with your hands on your head. “I didn’t tell you that just to watch you pity me, I was trying to make a point. Don’t start lying now just for the sake of it.”

“Lying? I’m not fucking lying, Sophia,” he sounded angry now. “If you had told me this before, I would’ve—”

“‘Would’ve’ what?” You raised your voice too, tears now streaming down your face freely. “Would’ve said you’re in love with me too? Would’ve abandoned your whore days just to be with me? Fuck off, Hughes, we both know that isn’t true.”

“Just because you like to paint me as the man whore of the Devils it doesn’t mean that that is true,” he snapped, again. “I’ve been with you for six months now, and I never, not even once, touched another woman, or even thought about doing it. Because I just wanted you, Sophia, can’t you fucking see it?”

You sat on the couch, covering your face with your hands, trying to hide the fact that those words affected you more than you would ever admit.

“I get it that your fuckhead ex-boyfriend fucked you up and I am sorry for it, baby, I really am, but I’m not like him—”

“Jack, no,” you stopped him and removed your hands from your face, not caring if you looked ugly or destroyed. “Just leave. It’s better this way.”

“Leave? Are you insane?” He raised his voice. “No, I’m not leaving. I’m telling you that I am in lo—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Hughes,” you got up, walking until you were toe to toe with him, looking up until your eyes met his. “I don’t want to hear it. Leave, please.”

“What the hell, man, you’re— you’re not even hearing me out!” He sounded desperate.

“I don’t want— I don’t need any more of your lies or pity. Sorry if you lost a good fuck, but I’m sure you’ll find someone else to get your dick wet.” It hurt you saying this but you needed to hurt him in order to make him leave, even if only God knew how much you wanted him to stay.

But the people you loved, the men you loved, never stayed.

Eventually, if you both started dating, he’d get tired of the routine and he’d find someone else. He’d start lying and cheating and apologizing just to do it all again, stepping on your heart like he did to the ice.

So you needed him to leave.

“So you think that you were just that to me?” He scoffed. “A good fuck? I took you to my parents’ house. I introduced you to them. I talked to my friends about you and I made time for something else besides Hockey. I wanted you in my life and now you’re telling me that it was all just sex to me?”

His eyes have never looked bluer. Your entire body felt cold, and you knew it wasn’t because of the weather. It was because you could feel Jack distancing himself from you, and it hurt.

“Leave, Hughes.”

He stared at you for a full minute, the room quiet. Then, he nodded once and twice, before stepping back and making his way to your door.

Opening it, he turned back and looked at you again. “I hope you know that you can’t keep your heart locked away forever, Soph.”

Wanting nothing but to be in his arms, you stared at him until he softly closed the door. You don’t know how much time you spent looking at the wooden entrance, feeling like you just watched your forever walk away.

[onlytibki]

Okarun reading an entry on the Serpo in his favorite occult magazine and writing a letter correcting some assumptions

letter gets published in the next edition

some discourse with fellow authors but they mostly seem interested in hearing his theories

Okarun continues with commentary on a few cryptids/yokai

editor asks him to join as a freelance writer

Okarun releasing weekly Meet The Cryptid pages involving whatever the hell tried to kill him and his friends recently

gets invited to a occult conference in Tokyo as a speaker, decides to make his panel on the theory that yokai/ghosts/cryptids are keeping aliens from taking over the planet

isn't sure if Jiji or Aira would be interested, but does know Momo would be interested, so he gets the extra ticket to the con the staff offer him and shyly asks if she'd like to join him

(cue is this a date??? cuteness)

Momo glimpses the name Takakura Ken, is SHOCKED wondering why the hell there'd be a panel on the actor at an occult con

"Ah... um, n-no, that's me, actually."

"WHAT?!"

[msschemmenti]

girl next door 🏠 - 10

a/n: so sorry this took forever to wrap up. as i've mentioned before i was accidentally high for two days, work was dramatic as hell (actually had an awful day today), and on top of that i had gig i was practicing for. but happy i could publish something at all.

The morning after both Emily and JJ woke to only each other in a blissful haze. Something about being cocooned in their neighbor’s warmth and scent really eased them into a rather peaceful slumber. When they were able to form a coherent thought, they both let their eyes roam the bedroom in the daylight for any sign of Y/n. She hadn’t mentioned anything about needing to get up early the previous night, but it wasn’t like they’d done much talking once they arrived. Emily spots their clothes, folded and stacked, on an ottoman bench at the foot of the bed which had previously been on the floor in a pile. So obviously the younger woman was up and somewhere in the house. JJ clocked the digital alarm clock rolling past 9 am and mentally thanked (some) God that it was the weekend and they weren’t heading to work again until Monday. 

Emily, very suddenly, collapsed back against the bed with a yawn and met JJ’s amused eyes. “We should ask Y/n where she got this mattress, I haven’t slept that well in months.” 

“I highly doubt the mattress is what’s responsible for your restful slumber but I’ll let it slide considering I too am feeling rather restful.” JJ winked lazily as she slid into a large morning stretch. Both women settled into the quiet of the morning and the peace of Y/n’s space. Time seemed to slow, the birds chirped louder, and their chests felt lighter. An undeniable calm had settled over them since they’d stepped foot in the younger woman’s house and in their lives they’d learned to dwell in as much peace as possible. But that apparently didn’t stop them from almost yearning to be near y/n.

sliding back into their clothes from the night before, they both wandered to the main floor of the house in search of the woman. with the kitchen and living room clear, Emily nodded toward the sliding barn door at the end of the hallway. sliding it open bathed them in light and piano instantly and y/n sat on the bench running her hands over the keys effortlessly. they paused at the door and watched. surely they’d gathered that y/n had a rather pleasurable amount of talent stored in her fingers, but they’d never seen her use them in the capacity. in what could only be described as her element. as if she were a siren, they unconsciously drew closer as she continued the song. finding places to perch quietly as not to disturb her. And as quiet as they thought they’d been as soon as y/n played the finale note, she whirled around on the piano bench and met their eyes. 

“Well good morning, did I wake y’all? I soundproofed this room myself but I never really tested it with other people in the house.” y/n asked, darting her eyes between the women. 

“No, we didn’t hear you at all.” Emily replied with a shrug. 

“I didn’t realize you were so handy,” JJ chimed in examining the foam paneling around the room. 

y/n shook her head with a laugh, “I’m not! I think I just got lucky with this one. i once spent a whole semester belting during my office neighbor’s weekly webinars because I hadn’t soundproofed my office completely. let’s just say— I wasn’t her favorite.” y/n rose from the piano bench and met Emily and JJ where they’d decided to lean in the room. “how’d we sleep last night? feeling okay?” 

Emily and JJ all but melted at the concern clear on the younger woman’s face as her hands cradled their faces. her eyes flicked over both women as if searching for any sign of discomfort or trouble. Luckily for her, she wouldn’t find any. (unlucky for them, because there was no casual way to explain how they’d slept better wrapped around her than they have in months.) JJ was the first to answer and she leaned into the younger woman’s caress, “Feeling great, Em was just saying how comfortable your mattress is.” 

y/n smiled, almost knowingly, and patted both their cheeks affectionately. “well I’m glad. I’m sorry you woke up alone— I’ve got a couple panicked former students calling for some advice on audition pieces.” 

“Oh, we’ll get out of your hair then. we wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.” Emily was quick to reply. 

“you’re not keeping me from anything. They’ll only be a couple hours, max. if y’all don’t have any plans for the day, feel free to hang out for a bit.” y/n suggested with a shrug. 

JJ looked as if she were considering it for a minute but she caught the apprehension in Emily’s eyes and answered for them both, “Thanks, but we don’t wanna disrupt your routine any more than we already have.” 

y/n sighed and nodded her understanding. “oh alright. since I can’t convince y’all otherwise, let me at least walk you out.” y/n grabbed both women’s hands and pulled them back through the house easily. As they stood near the door putting their shoes on— she spoke up again. “just so you know, for future reference, y’all could never wear out your welcome over here, okay? if either of you need me, I’m just a call and two doors down. always. and that can be for anything.” she finished with a suggestive wink. 

Emily cheeks heated uncharacteristically and jj giggled with a nod and salute. “Roger that.”

“good.” y/n nodded, ushering the women out the door reluctantly. as they started down the porch she started, “Oh! I forgot to mention it, but we’re having a faculty showcase over at the school. y’all probably won’t be in town, but if you are I’d love it if you came.” the professor seemed to grow a little shy with the request but with a shrug, she continued on. “Grayson is coming up from Kentucky for it and i figured i’d extend the invitation. no pressure. but the invitation stands.” 

Emily and JJ watched as y/n shyly rambled. her pink slipper poking at the welcome mat beneath her feet as she spoke. and just the sight had both women mentally willing all serial killers to stand down for whenever this showcase was. watching the professor spin out a bit pushed Emily to finally speak, “We’d love to come.” at her words, y/n’s eyes lit up hopefully and a warmth bloomed in Emily’s chest. “send us the information and we’ll be there. bar any serial killers running a muck.” 

JJ nodded in agreement, “Absolutely. and if I’ve got anything to say about it, they won’t be.” 

y/n bit her lip to fight the grin fighting to cover her face, “Okay. and again, no pressure if they do start running muck. but I hope they don’t.” with a nod and a sweet wave, y/n sent JJ and Emily home feeling well rested and a lot more smitten than they’d ever expected. 

-

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No. And I swear to God, if you say please one more time— I’ll make you think the ground flew up and hit you.” y/n sighed from the kitchen. glaring at Grayson, sprawled across the couch upside down. “and sit up before you look as red as your sweater.” Grayson had been in DC for two hours and she’d been bugging Y/n since she landed to meet JJ and Emily. 

“Can’t we just go knock on their door? I’m just bursting at the seams.” Grayson whined, righting herself to pout at Y/n. 

“Grayson I told you in the car, I think they’re on a case. They left sometime Tuesday evening and they’ve not been home since. You’re here for a week though, I’m sure  they’ll be back eventually.” 

“Eventually? Why would you say it like that? It’s as if you don’t want me to meet the best sexy partners of your life or something…” Grayson mused rubbing her chin. 

“I’ve never called them the best sexy partners of my life? where did you even come up with that?” Y/n deflected.

“You didn’t have to say it, I can just tell these things.” 

“and that’s why I’m not too eager for you to meet them. knowing you— you’ll call them that to their faces. or worse, proposition them on my behalf.” 

“Well sue me for thinking of your happiness.” Grayson groaned dramatically causing Y/n to roll her eyes. As eager as a friend could be, she was always happy to have her around. The girl can’t hold water, but she’s got a heart of gold.

-

Emily shifted her eyes up to the clock on the wall. They’d unfortunately been called out on a case in Michigan and as dedicated as she was to her job— she had other things on her mind. She and JJ were sitting in a conference room in the local police department scanning class rosters for connections between victims and anyone in their classes. It was their only lead so far and as they brought their third day to a close, things weren’t moving bf as quickly as she’d hoped. 

JJ, catching her attention shift to the clock again, sighed disappointedly. “Anything yet?” When Emily only shook her head and looked back at her stack of papers, JJ slumped back in her chair. “If we don’t find something soon, we might be here through the weekend.” 

“I know, I know. Which is not going to work for us. We need to be back in Virginia no later than 4 tomorrow, if we’re gonna make the showcase.” 

Y/n said no pressure, but this felt like a test of sorts. Or at least a self-imposed test for them to see whether this was extremely unrealistic or was something they could handle. It definitely wasn’t a matter of not wanting to make it work, this job just always made dating outside of the Bureau seem impossible. Over the week, both women had subconsciously conflated this one event to be the test of a true relationship with Y/n and right now it looked like they were going to fail miserably. They’d agreed on getting flowers for Y/n and arriving with enough time to comfortably introduce themselves to Grayson, but this case was proving to be their biggest obstacle and maybe a sign that the casual relationship they had was all they were meant to have. And yes, the younger woman seems comfortable with everything going on, but both JJ and Emily had definitely wondered how long they could keep it up. (Especially since their feelings seemed to be developing much faster than either of them anticipated.)

The phone in the center of the conference table rang obnoxiously, startling both women from their internal musings. JJ reached to answer the call, “Garcia, please tell us you’ve found something.” JJ asked hopefully. 

“That depends on your definition of something. If you mean for the case then no. If you mean my outfit for tomorrow night? Then yes.” The tech analyst’s voice floated through the phone. At her giddy response, JJ and Emily groaned in displeasure. 

“No need to rub it in. We’ll be lucky if we even land before it’s over.” Emily sighed, rubbing her eyes. 

“Listen, I’m sure she’ll understand if you can’t make it. Didn’t you tell her that you’d be there as long as the job didn’t take you away?” Garcia tried to placate. 

“Well yeah, we said that. But she looked so hopeful when we said we’d be there. And if we can’t make this one event as her fuck buddies, how would we make anything else work?” Emily wondered aloud. JJ nodded in agreement and crossed her arms over her chest. But it seemed as if they hadn’t discussed this with Garcia at all based on the squeal that echoed between the walls of the conference room. 

“Anything else? As in dates? As in a relationship with that beautiful, shining ray of southern sunshine? I’m sorry when did you gals come to your senses about this one?” 

“We’ve been thinking about it for a bit, but this showcase felt like the perfect opportunity to act on those thoughts. Plus after she got Emily to snuggle up after a hard case– I was pretty smitten. But like Em said, if we can’t even make this work what can we afford with this job?” 

The delight was clear in Garcia's voice when she replied, “This is great! Oh, I’m so happy for you both– scratch that. I’m happy for all three of you. I think Y/n is such a great compliment to the both of you. One that you need.” 

“Pen it seems you’re forgetting the part where we’re going to be trapped here for the rest of the weekend if we don’t wrap this case up soon. What kind of girlfriends would we be if we already let the job monopolize our time?” JJ explained.

“I think you’re conflating the importance of typical relationship norms and not acknowledging the sort of relationship that Y/n may be willing to be in. I don’t even need to ask if you’ve talked to her about this because I know you haven’t. Missing one show isn’t an omen or a death sentence. If anything the way you’re acting about missing this one show is truly reason enough to pursue something more serious. This might be some sort of self-imposed test that you’ve both decided on but I think you should give yourselves a bit more credit. When’s the last time either of you were concerned about getting home for someone other than each other?” Penelope monologued, fingers clicking on the computer as she went. When she was met with silence from the other end of the phone, she knew she was right. “Exactly. Digest my words and act accordingly. And to spur you both on, I’ve found something that might get you out of there in time. One of you should have the Accounting 240 class rosters, now I know not all the vics are in the class but I’ve been doing some digging and found a study group that they’re all a part of. Only two members of the group are unaccounted for.” 

Emily quickly pulled the rosters to the front of her pile and split them between her and JJ. “Oh, I could kiss you, Penelope Garcia. We’re on it. If we work fast, we could wrap this up tonight.” 

“You finally asking Y/n out for real, will be thanks enough. Hit me back with what you find. PG out.” 

“Maybe she is all-knowing,” JJ mumbled around the cap of her highlighter.

-

Y/n stood in the wing of the auditorium as Dr. Kelley thanked one of her colleagues for their performance. They’d enlisted some teaching assistants to help shift the stage to accommodate for each faculty member’s performance. And as she watched the students roll the piano forward toward the vocal microphone– she knew she was next. She peaked around the auditorium seats one last time and tried not to let the disappointment bleed through her performance mindset. Sure she was hopeful JJ and Emily would make it in time, but she also knew they must’ve still been hung up with their case if they weren’t there. Grayson would be disappointed, but hopefully meeting the brightly dressed Tech Analyst would make up for it. 

“Now that we’ve got everything in place, allow me to introduce you to our newest hire. Professor Y/Ln. She’s been with us since the start of the summer and we’re so thrilled to have her in our department. A mezzo-soprano hailing from Georgia, she’s seen stages and classrooms all over the US. She is our University’s first Jazz and Musical Theatre focussed vocal performance instructor and our students have had nothing but positive things to say about her thus far. So without further ado, please give it up for our next performer, Professor Y/ln.” 

The house lights dimmed and Y/n took her place at the stage with an easy smile. She couldn’t see out into the room but she could recognize both Grayson’s and Penelope’s cheers almost instantly, which caused her smile to grow fractionally. She stepped up to the mic and easily called the room to attention, “Good evening everybody. Thank you so much for joining us over here in the music department. As Dr. Kelley said– I’m the newbie in the department and tonight has been such an enjoyable showcase of the talented folks we’ve got here. I’ll be doing three songs tonight, you might know em and you might not. Either way, I hope y’all enjoy.” At the audience's affirming response, she turned toward the accompanist with a nod. “Let’s start with I Could Write A Book, John.” Y/n took a moment to center herself, eyes closed and head low, before looking out into the room cueing her accompanist.

-

“Emily, come on. I can literally hear her being announced. It’s this way.” JJ groaned reaching to pull Emily down the sidewalk toward the auditorium. They’d broken far more traffic laws than either of them would be admitting any time soon. But they’d made it and if Garcia’s text was anything to go by– they’d made it just in time. 

“Well we might’ve been here sooner had you not been so hellbent on picking the perfect bouquet.” Emily groaned as JJ rushed and pushed her into the building. 

“Okay, let’s just ignore the way you changed your shirt three times from the jet.” JJ poked as she the theater door came in view. She pulled them to a stop in front of the usher and smiled as the young woman handed them both programs. 

“If you hurry, you can make squeeze in before Professor Y/Ln starts her set,” At the confirmation, both JJ and Emily sighed in relief and slid into the back of the auditorium. Emily settled the flowers between her knees as both women finally relaxed for the first time in days. If this was a test, they might’ve succeeded. 

-

“ Did you make her whole set? I was looking for you both before the lights went down and I wasn’t sure how close was ‘close’.” Garcia rambled as she stood in the lobby of the auditorium with Emily and JJ. The showcase had just ended and the head of the department directed everyone out in the lobby to mingle with the talent. Most of the younger people who were in attendance had either crowded around the stage door or dispersed back to the residence halls, leaving the lobby for friends of family of the professors. As Garcia rambled on, both JJ and Emily’s eyes were locked on the stage door. Garcia’s words were going in one ear and out the other. All they could think about was Y/n. Emily, a jazz enthusiast, was already excited for the performance but found herself at the edge of her seat captivated by the silken voice of her neighbor. JJ had decided as soon Y/n opened her mouth, that she’d listen to anything the younger woman was singing. She’d even found herself daydreaming about her singing grocery lists and things to her. She was a siren and Emily and JJ were answering her call. After some time, they caught sight of the Professor exiting the stage door with a shorter woman at her side. Sensing the shift of attention, Garcia turned and watched the women maneuver their way through students and audience members politely. Garcia started waving her hands eagerly to get their attention and winked over her shoulder to Emily and JJ. 

Y/n spotted her almost instantly and pulled Grayson over to the brightly colored woman with a smile. “I knew I heard your voice out there. Thank you so much for coming!” Y/n grinned as she pulled Penelope into a hug. She pulled away ready to introduce Grayson when her eyes fell to Emily and JJ. “Hi!” Y/n grinned moving around Garcia as she rocked up to Emily and JJ– leaning against a wall (trying and failing to look cool). “Y’all made it.” JJ’s eyes softened and a matching grin settled on her cheeks as she reached to link her fingers with Y/n’s. 

“Of course we did. No serial killer could keep us from this.” 

 Emily was clutching the flowers in her hands and nodded dumbly at JJ’s response. Y/n giggled sweetly and reached for Emily’s hand as well. “And you brought me flowers? Well, aren’t y’all sweeter than an apple pie!”

Emily’s cheeks heated almost instantly at the praise. “I love jazz,” Emily mumbled extending the flowers toward the professor sheepishly. She wanted to facepalm, and Garcia’s snickering wasn’t helping at all. She looked over at JJ who was holding back what looked like a cackle and Emily almost shrunk in embarrassment. But then she looked back to Y/n and saw the affection radiating off her. So much affection, she could drown in it. 

“I know, did I live up to the hype?” 

“Exceeded the hype,” Emily answered honestly.

“Good,” Y/n smiled and turned to JJ. “And what did you think?”

“Amazing. And I don’t even like Jazz.” JJ shrugged with a teasing grin. 

“Well I guess that’s pretty high praise then, huh?” Y/n rolled her eyes but the smile remained in place. “Thank you both for coming. I know it must of been difficult with your case and everything. But I’m feeling pretty special right now, thanks to y’all.” She pulled the flowers to her chest with a smitten smile and took a step into Emily and JJ’s space. As she swayed to her toes to plant a kiss on Emily’s cheek, a cluster of coughs and noises sounded behind them rather obnoxiously and Y/n sighed softly. She sat back on her heels and rolled her eyes as she turned to face not only Grayson but an extremely smug Penelope. “Hi I’m Grayson! It’s so nice to meet you all. Despite this one completely disregarding everyone and everything but those two.”

“Oh, I like you. we must discuss. All of that.” Garcia grinned linking arms with Grayson to pull her toward the exit.

Y/n watched as they left and sighed lightly, “I’ve got a feeling they’re gonna be a problem together.” She laughed a bit and turned back to Emily and JJ expectantly but paused at the seriousness that had taken over their faces. “Hm, now what’s ailing y’all?” 

Extremely tempted to tease the southern belle, JJ bit her lip trying to remain serious. “Uh, we’ve just been thinking and wanted to run something by you.” When Y/n motioned for them to continue on Emily picked up the ask. “Would you be open to changing our relationship a bit?”

“You didn’t come to my show to dump me did you? That’d suck.” Y/n joked, chuckling nervously.

“Quite the opposite actually. We were kind of hoping you’d be interested in dating us. Seriously. Exclusively. Officially.” JJ corrected. 

“Only if you’re comfortable with that shift,” Emily added matter-of-factly. “No pressure, just something we’ve been thinking about.”

Y/n felt the nervous energy dissipate and become quickly replaced by an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. It’s nice when you get what you want. “Well, it’s about time. I was starting to think you’d never ask me and we’d be doing this Neighbors with Benefits things for a while.” When the older women’s faces contorted in confusion, Y/n only laughed and pulled them closer. “Listen, y’all might be the profilers but I know a jealous woman when I see one.” 

“Jealous? Who was jealous?” Both women denied it almost instantly. Y/n leveled them with an unimpressed glare and they shrank a bit under the truth. “Well is that a yes or a no?” Emily prompted, needing the explicit consent to allow herself to pursue this new kind of relationship fully. She and JJ waited with baited breath for Y/n’s reply and when she rolled her eyes with an easy ‘yes’ it took everything in the women not to drag her into a heated kiss. 

As if reading their eyes, Y/n smiled and kissed their cheeks. “If you get me home, I’m sure we can explore whatever it is that’s got both your eyes three shades darker in the middle of my place of work.” 

JJ, ever eager to satisfy, grinned and turned for the door. “That can definitely be arranged. And quickly too.” With matching grins and linked arms, the women made their way outside to find their friends and hopefully navigate their new reality. Together .

[recoord]

Why Good Omens season 1 has already fulfilled Sir Terry Pratchett's wish

Neil Gaiman said he wouldn't make a sequel to Good Omens

Neil Gaiman at SXSW in Austin, Texas in 2019:

[Gaiman also confirmed the series will only be six episodes, with no intention of trying to go for another season if successful. "The lovely thing about Good Omens is it has a beginning, it has a middle, and it has an end," he said to appreciative applause. "Season 1 of Good Omens is Good Omens. It's brilliant. It finishes. You have six episodes and we're done. We won't try to build in all these things to try to let it continue indefinitely."]

Source: Entertainment Weekly (2019)

2018 - Neil Gaiman on X- Twitter

Tweet link here

Also Neil Gaiman in 2023:

["It won't be confirmed unless enough people watch Season 2 to make Amazon happy...

...But obviously Season 3 is all planned and plotted and, if I get to make it, will take the story and the people in it we care about to a satisfying end."]

What happened?

Were the profits and ratings high enough to create two more seasons out of thin air? At this point, seasons 2 and 3 seem more like a greedy stretching of a beloved story already told in its entirety in the first season.

Has the first season already fulfilled Sir Terry Pratchett's wish?

As read above, Neil Gaiman himself said: "Season 1 of Good Omens is Good Omens."

Gaiman was very opened about how pleased he was with Season 1 and how he made it having Sir Terry Pratchett's wish in mind.

Interview for The Verge (May 30, 2019)

Link : Neil Gaiman had one rule for the Good Omens adaptation: making Terry Pratchett happy

Interviewer: Do you feel pressure from knowing this has to be the definitive best adaptation it could be?

Gaiman: No. All I wanted to do was to make something Terry would have liked. It wasn’t like, “Make the best thing.”...

...Gaiman: The lovely thing about Good Omens [the miniseries] is that it’s still Good Omens. If you loved the book, this is that thing that you loved. And I will make you fall in love even more with Sergeant Shadwell. I will make you fall even more in love with Newt than you thought you could, I hope. It does demonstrate that I do kind of know what I’m talking about, which is a nice thing to know.

...Gaiman: So with Good Omens, I feel like what I got to do was put the thing I made with Terry on the screen and then buttress it. What I added isn’t completely different from the original. It’s not out of left field.

Neil Gaiman on an interview for The Guardian in 2019.

Link: Neil Gaiman: ‘Good Omens feels more apt now than it did 30 years ago’

There are times, he insists, when “you make something you like so much that you don’t really care what anyone else thinks of it.” There’s a clue to this, perhaps, in the show’s final frame, which reads “For Terry”. “He didn’t believe in heaven or hell or anything like that,” Gaiman says, “so there wasn’t even a hope that there was a ghostly Terry around to watch it. He would have been grumpy if there was. But I made it for him.”

Why was Good Omens season 1 so good and you could really feel Sir Terry Pratchett's contributions?

Gaiman himself has already told us the answer:

...Gaiman: So with Good Omens, I feel like what I got to do was put the thing I made with Terry on the screen and then buttress it. What I added isn’t completely different from the original. It’s not out of left field.

Neil Gaiman for The Verge (2019).

There was original material to work with (Good Omens, published in 1990), on which we certainly know that Sir Terry Pratchett himself actively worked from start to finish.

Is there a proper sequel to Good Omens the book on which to base 2 more seasons of the series?

Neil Gaiman says the following on an interview for GQ in 2019.

Link: Neil Gaiman Says No to Adapting His Own Books—Except This Time

...But with this, it was like: Okay. Terry is gone. He wanted me to do this. He wanted me to do it for him. And that gave me a kind of weird impetus. And it meant that I felt very much at liberty to take every conversation that Terry and I had ever had about Good Omens. Not just the book, as written, but everything beyond it. We planned a sequel, never written, so I got to steal the angels from the sequel. I got to steal from every conversation Terry and I had about how we would do this. It felt very personal, and I guess kind of… holy. If that doesn’t sound too ridiculous. But it was a mission.

Two conclusions can be drawn:

1) Informal conversations about the plot of a sequel do not equate to an officially written sequel.

2) Neil Gaiman has already used many of the ideas he and Terry Pratchett had planned for a never-written sequel to Good Omens and those ideas were largely added to and executed in the TV adaptation of Good Omens (2019).

Why keep stretching those ideas if the co-writer is no longer able to actively contribute and help to create a proper sequel?

If Gaiman were the sole creator of Good Omens we'd have a different conversation, but that's not the case. The first season of Good Omens was already a beautiful homage to Good Omens and Sir Terry Pratchett's work on the book.

Did Terry Pratchett write around 75% of Good Omens?

Link for the post here.

Link for the post talking about the video and sharing the video here.

Edit: I wanted to bring this point up to point out Terry Pratchett's important contribution to the making of the book, not to highlight it as an excuse to distance Gaiman from the novel. We will have to accept that he also contributed to the creation of the book.

Sir Terry Pratchett's last wish

2017 - Rob Wilkins on Twitter (X)

Terry Pratchett’s Unpublished Work Crushed by Steamroller

By Sophie Haigney - The New York Times

Terry Pratchett, the well-known British fantasy author, had a wish fulfilled two years after his death: A hard drive containing his unpublished work was destroyed by steamroller.

Mr. Pratchett, a wildly popular fantasy novelist who wrote more than 70 books, including the “Discworld” series, died at 66 in 2015. That year his friend, the writer Neil Gaiman, told The Times of London that Mr. Pratchett had wanted “whatever he was working on at the time of his death to be taken out along with his computers, to be put in the middle of a road and for a steamroller to steamroll over them all.” Mr. Gaiman added at the time that he was glad this hadn’t happened.

Now, though, it has. Mr. Pratchett’s estate manager and close friend, Rob Wilkins, posted a picture of a hard drive and a steamroller on Aug. 25 on an official Twitter account they shared.

Shortly thereafter, Mr. Wilkins wrote that the deed was done.

I have not been able to find the exact reasons why Sir Terry Pratchet wanted his unfinished and unpublished works destroyed, but we can respect his last wish as a way for him to have control over what he felt he was ready to share with the world and what he was not.

Is Good Omens the exception?

With all that has been presented so far, I can only conjecture, but not be sure. I can believe that there was Terry Pratchett's permission and desire to make an adaptation of Good Omens, the original book published in 1990, but to my mind, creating two more seasons of a never-written sequel doesn't fit as part of Terry Pratchett's desire.

He is not among us to actively participate in a sequel and if his last wish was to destroy his unfinished works, I can't believe that he would have wanted to give his approval to something new published under his name and without his supervision.

Sir Terry Pratchett talking about a never-written sequel to Good Omens

“Neil and I thought about a sequel an awful lot initially. We talked about it on tour. And I think it was a big relief to both of us, when one day we looked one another in the eye and said, 'I thought you wanted to do a sequel.'..

Interview for the Magazine Locus. Locusmag archive page

This is me speculating, but I don't think there was real enthusiasm for creating a sequel until Gaiman alone saw profitable potential in the TV adaptation....

Good Omens also belongs to the those who love the story

I think it's okay to still love the story of Good Omens. Personally, I will always be grateful with the story and the characters for giving me confort in troubling times, but I find seasons 2 and 3 as some kind of excuse from Gaiman to keep profiting and benefiting from the story (more now than ever due to the SA allegations*).

Aziraphale and Crowley will always live happily in a lovely cottage as long as we want to. Even before season 2 was announced, many of us had already accepted that. Many artists have imagined lovely endings for our innefable husbands and in my eyes their works won't be any less valuable than whatever Gaiman had planned.

Note:

I don't like talking about Season 3 of GO without mentioning the current SA allegations against Neil Gaiman (Main writer of seasons 2 and 3 and showrunner), so in case you want to know more about the allegations against Neil Gaiman. Here there's a great Round Up link (Podcasts links, transcripts, etc.)

Credits for the Round Up link to Muccamukk. Thanks a lot!

*more thoughts on supporting season 3

[just--vi]

2024 in Fanfic

In 2023 I wrote 185,542 words, and in 2024 I wrote 185,996, so at least I'm consistent?

I think it's interesting to look back at my 'goals' of 2024: Write something other than a Muggle AU (failed), convince everyone to ship Moonchaser (halfway there), write more smut (nailed it), read more (honestly, kind of nailed that too).

In 2025 I want to care less, write whatever I want, finally get that Armageddon AU out, and read ~even more~.

Anyway, here's what I did this year!

For the Love of Ducks - Wolfstar, started in 2023, finished in 2024.

Remus Lupin has always been sick, and he'd just like to feel normal for once. Sirius Black seems like the perfect man with a perfect, exciting life.

The Art of Getting Off - Jegulus

Regulus is a demisexual romance author who has one big hangup: Smut. After a mountain of bad reviews on his latest novel, an awkward meeting with his publisher, and a conversation with Remus, he decides to take the leap. Unfortunately the only person he really wants to sleep with is James Potter. Alternative title: "The art of fucking your brother's best friend six ways from Sunday without falling in love in the process."

Happily Never After - Jegulus

It’s a flurry of limbs. James doesn’t waste a second pulling him inside - or maybe that’s for practicality sake. If Sirius saw them together he’d lose it on account of them being them, and if Remus saw them together he’d lose it on account of it being the night before his wedding. Or, Regulus and James are friends with benefits. All hell breaks loose.

And They Were Roommates! - Wolfstar

Sirius scoffs, and when Remus doesn’t turn around to look at him says, “Face it Moony, you’re drying up. You need me.” “What?” Remus laughs tightly, squirting an aggressive amount of soap in the sink and twisting the tap with a little more viciously than it probably deserves. “So, you’re planning on playing wingman all night?” “Yep,” Sirius says, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “And you’ll play wingman for me. It’ll be perfect.” Or, living with Remus Lupin is torture. Thankfully, Sirius has a plan to address the tension.

Deerly Beloved - Prongsfoot

Over a night in the pub a series of escalating dares result in Sirius and James waking up married. It should be quick and easy to fix the mistake by getting an annulment, so why are they dragging their feet?

Love at First Bloom - Wolfstar

Remus Lupin took over his mother's flower shop after the passing of his parents. Now, he splits his time between catering to the floral needs of sleepy Hogsmeade village and pining helplessly over the devastatingly handsome man who buys weekly arrangements for his boyfriend.

Wreck the Halls - Jegulus

When Regulus is invited to spend Christmas with Sirius and the Potters, the last thing he expects is for James to bring a brand new boyfriend home for the holidays.

[storm-angel989]

🎀IM SORRY FOR BLOWING UP YOUR INBOX! But Val/Vox(idrc which one) x Anorexic Daughter Reader?🎀

PLEASE READ BEFOREHAND

Hi Friend,

You’re not blowing up my inbox- I keep every request in a google doc and when inspo hits I work on it! If I ever decide I won’t do a request I won’t just delete it- I’ll post and say it directly <3 

Preface for this work:

 I’m considered a plus sized equestrian/plus sized human. Eating disorders come in all shapes, sizes and issues. I believe it’s Blythe Barid who said “If you develop an eating disorder when you are already thin to begin with you go to the hospital. If you develop an eating disorder when you are not thin to begin with, you are a success story.”

Stories like these are based on my own experiences and issues- and on this topic, I’ve had quite a few. Please remember that all bodies are worthy of love and respect, care and concern. It's a tough concept to wrap our heads around, and admittedly I still struggle with it. 

A little background info: 

ED’s are a huge part of my writing that I haven’t published. Ana and Mia are characters I have created (or maybe my own food issues created them). Either way, they’re  separate entities for separate stories- demons that I imagine have their own place in hell as well as in my writings (all of which have been in existence far longer than Hazbin). That being said, naming your ED is something I did and I have done. Even for the purpose of writing this story, the entire thing felt wrong without Ana running the behind the scenes. 

With this one I tried to pain the pain, the anger and frustration behind that never feeling good enough feeling. I would be open to doing part two if folks would be interested. Please also know I’ve written on this topic in several other forms if you explore my masterlist (or I can directly send you the links if you PM me). 

<3 Mandy 

I stepped on the bathroom scale and looked at the number that flashed below. The words of my coach echoed in my mind- I needed to lose the summer weight, or else I would be benched for the rest of the season. She had helpfully provided me with a journal to keep track of my weight, what I ate in a day, activities I did and how many calories I burned in accordance with my VoxTech watch. 

A month ago, I had met her goal, thus ending the weekly weigh-ins. According to her, I had lost enough weight to maintain my place on the team. It was on me now to make sure that I maintained that weight, or lost more. In her exact words, you could never be too skinny. 

“Bebita? Breakfast,” my fathers voice called from the hallway. “Come on, before it gets cold.”

The number told me I hadn’t gained weight, but I hadn’t lost weight either. I picked my backpack up and slung it over my shoulder. 

“Sorry, Dad! I’m late! I’ll eat at school, I promise,” I answered back as I rushed out the door. 

Surely skipping breakfast wouldn’t hurt. 

Skipping breakfast turned into skipping lunch. Skipping lunch turned into avoiding dinner. Sugar free jello and skinny pop became my go to snacks as the numbers in my book slowly but surely began to get smaller. Somewhere, a little voice inside my head began to cheer my successes on the scale. Over time, I learned that she had a name. 

Ana. My secret diet partner. My invisible cheerleader. The willpower I needed to keep going on the hardest days. And most importantly, someone who paid attention to me, 

With each passing day, Ana grew louder. She encouraged me to keep my diet a secret from my family. After all, they wouldn’t understand. Pleasing her, it became almost like an addiction- a game I played with myself to see just how little I could become. Food became nothing more than numbers, an obsession that consumed every minute, every second of my thoughts and desires. 

In my household, it wasn’t hard to keep it to myself. Hell, one could argue that I wasn’t technically even keeping it a secret. My father had a very important job, after all. And my Auntie Velvette and Uncle Vox also wouldn’t have had the opportunity to make the connection. A quick, I ate earlier, sorry! And I got off scott free. Ana cheered with each no thank you I uttered. My head between my knees after practice had become a ritualistic practice. Waiting for the black spots to fade, taking deep breaths to try to regain the energy to stand up and walk out to the awaiting limo. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting at home for me anyway. 

On the daily, I kept a careful eye on my voxtech watch. The first time my blood sugar dropped, I got a call from Vox. Paniced waves rushed through me. A suggestion from Ana to bribe to a friendly tech demon. A brief trade later, I had constant vitals being sent from my watch, my real ones hidden behind a password. With this newfound freedom, outside of homework and practice, my time normally devoted to hobbies or hanging out with friends became time to sleep. After all, I was working on the perfect body. I needed my rest. 

For almost six months, Ana and I were best friends. 

Saturday morning. Game day. One of the busiest days for my father. After all, lust and depravity raked through the weekends like wildfire. Or at least, that was what he claimed. I stood in front of the mirror trying desperately to tighten the drawstring 

“Hey bebita?” I heard my fathers voice call from the hallway. “Baby, are you up?”

“Yeah, Dad. I have a game today,” I snapped as I tied another knot in the string. 

Why the fuck wouldn’t these stupid shorts stay up? I fumed to myself. Every part of my body ached, and even yanking on my shorts sent black spots and exhaustion rushing through my body. I leaned my head against the mirror and tried to take a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this. 

The next thing I heard was my fathers voice, felt his hand shaking my shoulder. It took every ounce of energy to open my eyes. 

“Bebita? Reader, can you hear me?” Valentino asked frantically. “Princessa, wake up, now!”

“I’m fine,” I muttered as loudly as I could. Somehow, I managed to push myself upright. 

“You most certainly are not fine,” he replied sharply. “I’m taking you downstairs to the doctor, right now.”

Doctor. That meant I would miss the game. No, I had an obligation to my teammates. Somewhere in my head, Ana screamed.

Get up, fatass!

You really want to fuck this up for everyone?

You better not let him take you to the doctor, you do that and you’ll never find perfection. 

“I’m fine,” I growled, louder this time. I pulled myself to my feet and black spots dotted my vision. I felt my fathers arms around me and in seconds, I was off the floor and in his arms.

“Put me down, I can walk,” I tried to yell. Inside my head, Ana screamed louder, demands and insults about my current predicament. I pressed my hands to my head and curled my fingers in my hair, “Dad let me down NOW!” 

He ignored me as he carried me down the hallway. 

“Vox? Velvette? Both of you, with me. Now. We have a problem.” He said loudly. 

“Woah, what’s going….” Vox’s voice began. 

I shoved my hand against my father as he walked through the living room.  To my relief, he set me down on the couch. 

“What?” I snarled as three sets of eyes stared at me. “What the fuck are you looking at?” 

Vox checked his phone and then walked over to me. With one finger, he lifted off my Voxtech watch. 

“Hey! Give that back!” I demanded. “I’m going to be late to my game!”

All three of them ignored me. Wordlessly, Velvette walked away and returned moments later, bathroom scale in hand. She set it infront of the couch and gave me a hard look. 

“Step on.” 

“Fuck you,” I snapped as I stood up. I tried to ignore the black spots that danced just out of sight. “My weight is none of your fucking business.”

“Reader!” Valentino said in dismay. “That’s no way to talk to your Aunt.”

“I’m leaving, I’m already late. Thanks, Dad,” I continued sarcastically as I kicked the scale aside. 

Inside, Ana cheered. I bent down to pick up my backpack and the world around me spun. Three steps,  and Vox’s hand gripped my upper arm. The last thing I heard was Ana’s voice screaming indistinguishable words. 

When I came to again, I found myself in a room of gray and blue. Wires stuck out from my chest, and I tried to cough and spit the feeling of something painful in the back of my throat. I tried to reach up, to shove my fingers down my throat, and my skin met padded white cuffs. 

What the fuck?

You’re going to have to work hard to get yourself out of this one, Ana taunted. Great job getting caught, fatass. 

“Hey, baby, it’s alright, Papi is here,” I heard my father’s voice say somewhere far away. 

“Mr. Valentino, I promise we’ll be in touch when she’s more stable,” a new voice said. “For now, it might be best to give her some space to…”

Indistinguishable arguments. My fathers refusal and reminder of who exactly was in charge here. My Uncle Vox and Aunt Velvette chiming in, a mix of talking him down and agreement. 

Panic shot through me as the haze slowly began to wear away. Realization. Through the fog, only one word came to mind. 

Fuck.

[hatsbuckets]

Howdy! This is the start of the choose your own adventure series!

This will be a CYOA series, 141 xReader. Readers will vote on the choices made at the end of each part.

CYOA MASTERLIST

The goal is to update bi-weekly (but that may vary). So published part, one week for voting, next part gets published ASAP. I will likely have most parts pre-written before the voting period ends, just so that we don't wait any longer than that for the next part. This series will run as long as needed until the end of our story. This will run through, no longer than, the end of July/August. (School starts and I will be too busy.) (So about a 2-3 months long runtime)

If you have any questions or comments, feel free to send in the replies or my inbox! Or if you wanna be added to the taglist lmk.

Alrighty then

First vote, because you even get to pick this! (After this we'll pick some details about Reader, a la their job, role, etc.)

Going to make this one 3 days, just because we might have to work out additional details so

I'll LINK THE NEXT PART HERE! and update the post.

Mil Action: You’re embedded with 141—intel specialist, medic, tech support, etc. (we'll vote)—and everything goes to hell. High stakes, shootouts, betrayals, tactical flirting. (most developed idea right now.)

Dating Sim: You just got stationed at a base with four very different men. Will you fall for the soft one, the grumpy one, the flirt, or the mystery man? A combo? Or all four? Flirting, jealousy, some action, drama.

Fantasy AU: (least developed idea ngl, i've never played dnd more than two sessions this would be diff for me.) You’re a healer/mage/thief/royalty/etc. and end up on a quest with a band of dangerous but hot mercs. 141 but make it swords, magic, and dragons.

Apocalyptic: Zombies, radiation, or just societal collapse and the 141 is your team of survivors, and you have to make choices to keep everyone (yourself included) alive.

Supernatural: Ghost isn’t just a name, he might actually be a ghost. Or a demon. Or a cursed soldier. You’re on a team hunting monsters, and maybe you’re not quite normal either. idk

Time Loop: You keep waking up to the same mission. Something’s wrong. Can you trust the team? Can you escape? (this idea came to me in a nap dream a day ago.)

Regency: You’re a noble, knight, or spy drawn into a tangle of court politics and secret passions. Ghost is a disgraced general. Soap is too charming. Price knows more than he says. (Dating Sim but Regency/loyalty)

Sci-fi: You’re on a crew exploring deep space, caught between military conflict and alien threats. Ghost is the brooding pilot (KIDDING, it's Nik, or not, give G some credit). Price is the commander. Soap’s got cybernetics. Gaz is the weapons expert. (again lowkey dating sim but way more intense/actiony)

Mafia/Crime: You’re caught in a web of crime and power. One of the 141 is the boss, others are his enforcers. and/or One last job. You’re the planner or the wildcard they didn’t mean to recruit. Can you pull off the score and keep your heart intact?

[entwinedmoon]

This month is the 40th anniversary of John Torrington’s exhumation and autopsy. I’ve been doing real-time daily updates over on this post to show just how long and drawn out the process was. It took over a week, starting from when Beattie arrived on Beechey to when they first started digging to when they finally got the coffin open. Right now, those updates are in a bit of a lull because, after they dug down to the coffin, they had to wait for permits to move onto the next part, so there won’t be another Daily Torrington Dig update until August 17.

While we’re waiting for Beattie to get his permits to crack open a cold one (Torrington’s coffin) with the boys (his scientific research team), you can check out my Torrington blog posts to keep the spirit of the season going. The posts Sacred to the Memory of and A Star Is Born would be especially applicable right now as they explore Torrington’s death, exhumation, autopsy, and the media’s response to the photographs of his well-preserved body.

But there’s something else I wanted to share here, another type of media response that I’ve known about (and had a copy of) for a while. I shared it years ago on Twitter, thinking it would get a laugh there, but that was, er, not the reaction I received, so I’d held off on sharing it anywhere else because I thought most people would find it inappropriate. However, I was reminded recently by a friend (don’t know if they want to be tagged here or not, so I’ll go with not) about the existence of this particular piece, and I realized that this might be something that would be more appreciated here on Tumblr, where we like to photoshop Torrington’s corpse into memes, ship him with the guy he’s buried next to, and want to see what he would think of Takis and flavored vapes.

The article I’m referring to is the story about Torrington that appeared in the Weekly World News.

If you’re not familiar with the Weekly World News, it was a notorious tabloid that made up absurd stories and pretended it was real news. Some news stories were actually true—so it wasn’t completely like today’s The Onion—but there were also plenty of clearly fictional articles, featuring bizarre, often supernatural stories, such as Elvis sightings, a double-decker bus mysteriously found at the South Pole (“scientists” claimed aliens did it), or Bat Boy, a boy who was part bat, part boy.

Torrington’s level of fame within the cultural consciousness of the time meant that he, too, got to experience the tabloid treatment.

(CW: pictures of Torrington’s mummified body beneath the cut)

Published on March 3, 1992, was this front-page story:

Man buried in 1845 brought back to life!

Sailor’s coffin frozen in arctic ice 147 years!

Hush-hush new drug revives corpse, say doctors!

Yes, according to the Weekly World News, John Torrington was brought back to life in 1992. There’s even a full article all about how it happened.

MAN FROZEN SINCE 1845 BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE!

Scientists revive seaman trapped in ice 147 years!

Sailor back from the dead still thinks James K. Polk is President of the U.S.!

By Cal Sanders, Special Correspondent

The perfectly preserved corpse of a British sailor who was buried in an icy grave after he died on an Arctic expedition in 1845 has been revived by scientists—147 years later!

And while Petty Officer John Torrington’s health is fragile at best, the team of doctors who illegally plucked him from his grave and brought him back to life say he is aware of his surroundings, walking with help and might very well be able to lead a normal life “if this man has the psychological strength to adapt to the 20th century.”

“It’s hard to believe but this man thinks James K. Polk is President of the United States and insists that horses and sailing ships are the best and fastest ways to travel,” Dr. Hermann Richter said in his report on the experiment that brought Torrington back to life.

“Electric lights literally scare the hell out of him and to be perfectly frank about it, he hasn’t quite decided if he’s dead or alive. About the best we can do at this point is take his recovery one day at a time.

“If Torrington survives we will have produced a living piece of history. If he dies, at least we’ll be able to say that we tried to do something that might ultimately have benefited all mankind.”

The decision to steal Torrington’s corpse from its grave in northern Canada couldn’t have come easy for the Richter team, which issued its report to selected European newspapers “from an undisclosed clinic in Germany.”

For starters, the young man’s grave has stood as an unofficial monument to the courage and determination of 128 adventurers led by British explorer Sir John Franklin—adventurers who gave up their lives to chart the last 300-mile-leg of the treacherous Northwest Passage between 1845 and 1848. Torrington’s body was exhumed once before, in 1983, but it was carefully reburied after scientists took a small tissue sample to determine the cause of death. As it turned out, Torrington died from lead poisoning after eating provisions out of tins that were sealed with the dangerous and often lethal metal. Needless to say, news that Richter and his associates secretly exhumed the body a second time, smuggled it into Germany and succeeded in bringing it back to life have infuriated many experts, some of whom consider the theft of the body criminal. Richter himself insisted that Torrington is in good hands and will be free to go when he is strong enough.

The doctor went on the say that he understands why the experiment might sound extreme to some people but he believes that the revival of Torrington “furthered the best interests of medicine and science.” Richter’s report did not include any of the techniques that were used to revive Torrington but it did mention “an exciting new drug” that might one day make such revivals routine.

Because he died of lead poisoning, it is also believed that Richter and his team somehow cleansed Torrington’s tissue of the deadly metal before bringing him back to life. For the record, Torrington was a man of 20 when he died. Now he looks like a man of 80, photos supplied by Richter show.

“A century and a half of death is enough to age anyone,” said Richter.

There’s a lot to unpack here—the morally dubious German doctor with a mysterious, Frankenstein-esque resurrection method; the burial and exhumation dates both being off by one year for some reason; the short, skinny guy in the obvious bald cap that they thought would pass as Torrington; and so much more. Interestingly, a lot of the article seems to focus more on how scandalous it is that Dr. Richter stole Torrington’s body, as if the writer thought that the revival of a long-dead corpse wasn’t enough of a scoop. Also, I’m not sure if Torrington would even have been aware that Polk was president in 1845—was he the sort of guy who paid attention to international politics? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to think Victoria was still queen?

Many people might be offended by such an article, but the Weekly World News never cared about who they offended. Unsurprisingly, one of those who did take umbrage with the story was Dr. Owen Beattie.

In a short article in the Times-Colonist Metro about a week after the Weekly World News story ran, we got to hear Owen Beattie’s reaction.

HEE-(T)HAW . . . It was standard checkout rag fare. “Man Buried in 1845 brought back to life” shouted a recent front page of Weekly World News. “Hush-Hush New Drug Revives Corpse,” it continued.

These startling revelations bore some significance for both the wax museum’s Ken Lane and University of Alberta anthropologist Owen Beattie. The man purportedly thawed like last night’s dinner was John Torrington, one of three sailors from the Franklin expedition buried on Beechy [sic] Island. The Franklin expedition—and John Torrington—feature large in the wax museum’s arresting Frozen in Time expedition. Torrington’s body was exhumed from its Arctic grave in ’84 by Dr. Beattie, who determined death was from lead poisoning.

Neither Ken nor the anthropologist felt their respective professional worlds crumbled with the News article. (It ran with a photo of an emaciated looking chap being assisted by doctors and reports that Torrington is terrified of electric lights, still believes Polk is the U.S. president, and horses are the only way to go.) Ken shrugged it off with a what-can-you-expect-from-a-checkout-rag laugh. The anthropologist wasn’t quite so forgiving.

He refused to comment on it at all, insisting that his research speaks for itself. Apparently John Torrington was quite dead when he was exhumed and equally so when buried after the autopsy. But then that’s not the sort of stuff that sells check-out rags.

While it’s perfectly understandable that Beattie would not appreciate something like the Weekly World News’ fake story, what I find most interesting about this snippet is that there was a wax museum with a Franklin Expedition exhibit that included Torrington??? Does that mean there was a Torrington wax figure???? Where is it now????? Can I buy it?????????

These very important questions aside, it’s fascinating to see that Torrington was well known enough to make it into a “checkout rag.” Maybe it’s not the legacy he would have wanted, but at least it’s worth a good laugh.

[deedala]

🥞weekly tag wednesday oops its saturday💀

i've been so scattered this week! big thanks to @femboymilkovich for writing this weeks game and for tagging me!! + @heymacy @energievie @kiennilove @suzy-queued

@mybrainismelted @sgtmickeyslaughter @stocious @runninonemptyy @gallapiech

@nozenfordaddy 💖

What is the last song you listened to? red wine supernova - chappell roan

Have you read anything lately, fanfic or published? the last thing i read was the latest chapter of in this smoking chaos by @jrooc

Are you doing anything fun this year you’re looking forward to? uuhhh well ......

What is your favorite type of weather? chilly enough i can comfortably wear my favorite cozy coat and hat and mostly sunny

Do you have a favorite word? if i do then i cannot think of it right now because i get stupid when im put on the spot lmfao

Do you make playlists for music? If so, do you have a favorite one? i DO!! i have three favorites that i listen to a lot: hell hole (which is a bunch of music from shameless and songs that i have mentally assigned to shameless), chappell + sabrina + olivia, and hozier + petey

Do you have a favorite trope to read? i dunno... i guess mutual pining. i fuckin love pining and yearning. but its gotta be a happy ending :>

Do you have any tattoos or piercings? my ears are pierced but i dont really wear earrings anymore

If you could visit anywhere in the world, where would you go? i want to say chicago or toronto but we should dream a bit bigger, i want to go back to dublin and sit by the river liffey

tags below the ✂️

@jrooc @michellemisfit @crossmydna @gardenerian

@mmmichyyy @callivich @gallawitchxx @sam-loves-seb @spoonfulstar

@heymrspatel @echotrees @too-schoolforcool @darlingian @blue-disco-lights

@palepinkgoat @creepkinginc @the-rat-wins @loftec @rereadanon

@catgrassplantdad @francesrose3 @softmick @lazystargazy

@wehangout @thepupperino @lingy910y @sickness-health-all-that-shit @ian-galagher

@samantitheos @transmickey @captainjowl @c-nord

@burninface @geonbaeeeesblog @doshiart @spookygingerr @gallavich-annise

@nenekestis @mickeysgaymom

[aokuro-san]

Regarding chapter 293 of Blue Lock… (Comment/Personal opinion)

Okay, I think… I have some things to say about this chapter ending because I see that, in general, the vast majority of fans are quite disappointed. However, I don't think that it's the author's fault (or the authors, in this case). The problem is our own emotionality (which is not a bad thing, but we have already seen that the author leans towards rational and logical decisions when playing a game). We have the point of view of ALL THE PLAYERS, and that, whether you like it or not, provokes a certain empathy in you (if you have it). But the authors DON'T GIVE A DAMN about this. It is said from the beginning: HERE THE IMPORTANT THING IS TO WIN. Nothing else matters (although for us IT IS NOT LIKE THAT, okay).

But going to the chapter…

Without a doubt, I would say that it is one of the most consistent mangas that I have read in a long time. And the mangakas know their characters perfectly and how they are going to act.

Oh, yes, I also wanted Ness to score. Or Kunigami. BUT BECAUSE I EMPATHIZE WITH WHAT THEY HAVE SUFFERED (especially Kaiser's mockery of Ness in front of Isagi… Ugh. I get pissed off just thinking about it. And look at how Kaiser has suffered too! But he is such a son of a bitch, that he doesn't deserve to win right now, honestly. Of the two, I think that Kaiser is a much worse player than Ness, honestly, and I think that Ness, without him, has more chances of getting ahead).

However, CHANGING IS NOT THAT EASY FOR EVERYONE. Isagi is the KING OF ADAPTABILITY, just as he has been defined in some panels (and he also loves to win -like Ego, haha- and he is quite a fighter and impulsive; a guy determined in his objective). And it is NATURAL that HE is the one who can most easily intercept a goal. Especially because, even though Ness tries, IT IS NOT THAT EASY TO GET OUT OF A CONTROL AND MANIPULATION THAT HAS LASTED FOR YEARS (from the beginning, Kaiser went after him to turn him into his subject…). But we EMPATHIZE, we feel BAD (I confess that I cried my eyes out -this is very hard for me, okay?- with the end of the U-20 because I wished with all my might that Rin would score… But it didn't happen. And it hurt like hell, haha, and I scored volume 17 with one point less just because of that, hahaha). That makes Isagi's goal take away from us, rather than add to us. Although it is LOGICAL and COHERENT that HE IS THE ONE TO SCORE THE GOAL OF ALL THOSE PRESENT (how this boy has improved, haha) due to his ALREADY DEMONSTRATED SKILLS (oh, and he is also quite manipulative -although I don't think he is one hundred percent aware of it-…).

Regarding PxG vs. Bastard München being the worst game of the League, blah blah… I don't agree at all. For me, this one and the one vs. Machine City HAVE BEEN AWESOME. I think the problem lies in the fact that reading the manga in one go is not the same as reading a chapter every X time. So you always have to keep that in mind when reading something published weekly in my opinion. Because if you read the game in one go, I'm pretty sure you'll see the epic battle that was created here, honestly (which is also logical, because we're facing the two best teams in the league and, whether you like it or not, that has influenced why it lasted so long: we're facing very good players (in general) who will give anything for the game… And it has been proven in spades).

On the other hand… I think that sometimes we forget that at one point in the game THERE WERE SEVERAL PEOPLE, including MYSELF, who wished ISAGI TO SCORE (which hadn't happened to me for a long time). And now that he's here… It tastes bitter. Like most of his goals. Because we can't stop thinking about the ones we thought deserved to score; because we have feelings, at the end of the day. But… would we win any game thinking like that? Would we score any goal? Let's think about it seriously, because that's what it poses. Sometimes the objectives of one, unintentionally (or not) crush the objectives of others. Because we can't all be the best. And that's what Blue Lock offers us. A great manga in my eyes.

Anyway… That's what I think, I hope there's PEACE in the comments, because the last time I said something about a manga here on Tumblr they got down on me a bit, hahaha.

Have a nice day!

[frownyalfred]

I think that’s one thing that’s so cool but so intimidating about you having been in this fandom creating for so long. You have so much to say and there’s so much to read from you and you’re so good at it but it’s just. Hard to know where to really dive in, just like with the comics in general. And even with all my masterlists and personal reading lists with comics I’m still super overwhelmed I get to decision paralysis by the time I’m ready to sit down and read more of your fics lol. Like where do I even go after coral room universe and the superbat hook up angst fic and a few one shots. Borderlines? Eye in the sky??? I DONT KNOW!!!

We gotta make a scheduled weekly fic book club so all of us newbies here know what to read at the same time atp

That’s so valid and definitely no pressure at all! People read at their own pace, and I never expect anyone to have read all of my fics. Hell, there’s fics I’ve posted that I don’t think I’ve ever re-read after publishing. I forget about them sometimes too. I didn’t think 2018 was that long ago but….yeah, it kinda is!

I am very proud of both borderline and eye in the sky, so those have my vote! But they are angsty which is a turn off for some readers. If you’re looking for something lighter, maybe dead man’s party?

[seenthroughmia]

In Your Atmosphere

Chapter One

Next Chapter

Content Warning: Language, Alcohol, Brief mentions of hookups, Light meaningless flirting, Mentions of crime

Word Count: 1.1k

Author’s Note: I’ve been in a Frank Castle chokehold ever since Born Again has been streaming, and decided to put my little fantasy world into words for fun. I’ve never written or published anything, so sorry if it sucks lol. This is an introductory chapter… no Frank yet. Story is set during the timeline of Daredevil season 2. Some details may not be 100% accurate/canon to the tv show. I might do a character profile for Delilah if anyone is interested!

“As of this morning, police have officially arrested a suspect linked to the string of Hell’s Kitchen break-ins. The suspects’ name has not yet been released, however, we will continue to keep you updated as more details become available. Reporting live in Hell’s Kitchen for the New York Bulletin, I’m Delilah Lovett.”

“Clear!” A production assistant shouted from behind a camera.

Delilah sounded out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, it’s freezing out here.” She looked back towards the apartment complex that stood behind her. Her copper red hair whipped in the wind as she turned her head. This was the last building that had been ransacked in a string of connected robberies she had been following. But an arrest was made, and there was nothing new to report on (for the night at least) which meant a drink at Josie’s was calling her name and boy was she ready to answer that call.

The streets of New York on a Friday night were buzzing as usual. Conveniently, Josie’s was not far off from where Delilah had wrapped up her live shot for the 6pm newscast. Hands in the pockets of her black faux leather trench coat that was /slightly/ oversized for her small 5’4 frame, she took in the atmosphere of the city. Walking through, she was constantly reminded by several reasons that New York City was a hellhole. It was her hellhole, though. The place that she had called home for all of her adult life. The place where she went to college. The place where she had forged a few lifelong friendships.

Delilah smiled softly as she glanced up at the Nelson & Murdock: Attorney’s at Law sign that hung above her. The sign reminded her that not only was Josie’s right around the corner, but that her three best friends were there waiting for her. This had been a part of her weekly routine for the last year or so.

As soon as she walked through the door of the charming hole in the wall that was Josie’s she was immediately greeted with the laughs of the law firm trio.

“D, We just saw you on TV!” Foggy had spotted her first. He was seated at the bar with a drink in his hand next to Karen who was situated in between him and Matt.

Delilah shot them a smile. “It’s about damn time. I was only a PA for… Oh, I don’t know, a year too long? I’m in the big leagues now.” She found a seat next to Matt, who slid over a cup of rum and punch to her direction once he heard her settle down. “Thanks, Matt.”

Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson attended a frat party at Columbia University a few years ago during their early law school days. It was that same night that a chance encounter with freshman undergraduate Delilah Lovett that their friendship was born. Karen Page was a newer friend, joining the trio after she became the first official client of Nelson and Murdock.

Karen turned to face Delilah and Matt’s direction. “Was this your first time being on TV?” She asked.

Delilah took a sip of the rum and punch that Matt had given her before speaking. “The first time for a story of actual importance. I’ve done a couple of things like event coverage, but this was the first time I got to actually report on a story that I had been keeping tabs on.”

“The Hell’s Kitchen Klepto.” Matt laughed as he said the name given to the suspect from the media.

“Yeah… that wasn’t my idea. I had pitched something else, but my boss thought that a kleptomaniac would drive more ratings.” Delilah rolled her eyes and pressed the cup up to her lips again.

“Matt, you met with him today, didn’t you? While I was in the meeting with-“ Foggy started to speak but was cut off by a very curious Delilah.

“Holy shit- he’s your client? You’re representing him?”

Matt nodded before running a hand through his hair. “Yes, I did, Foggy. Yes, we are representing him.” Delilah opened her mouth to speak but didn’t get the chance to start her sentence. “And no… I can’t give you any details.”

He knew her so well. Of course he’d know exactly what she was going to ask, Delilah thought to herself. This is the point in time where she would start batting her eyelashes and do a little pouty thing with her lips, but that doesn’t work on Matt. Instead, she had to resort to a different tactic.

“Matty, please.” Her left hand lightly, but purposefully, brushed against his right. “You don’t have anything that I can use? A name? His birthdate? What he does for a living?” Matt shook his head at her badgering while a firm grin spread across his face. “Come on, this could be a big break for me.”

It was a tactic that Matt was used to dealing with from her. From the night they met at Columbia to now, nothing had changed besides a couple of drunken hookups and the realization that their personalities were just too different to be anything more than that.

“I’m sorry, D. I don’t have anything that you can use.” The grin was still planted on Matt’s face.

She had figured that would be his answer. “Damn you and your lawyerly code of ethics.” Her hand started to withdraw from the place it rested at near Matt’s.

“Sorry.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, yeah…” Delilah said as she let out a puff of air. She turned her attention from Matt to the phone screen that had lit up in front of her. It was an email from a news producer at the Bulletin.

“Hey, look, a pool table just freed up!” Karen quipped looking between the four of them. “We could play teams. Foggy and Delilah against Matt and I?”

“You know I can’t resist a good game of pool.” Foggy started to stand from his seat, drink in tow.

Delilah slowly started to stand as well with her eyes glued to the message on her phone. “Guys, I hate to be that girl, but there’s been a crash on the bridge. The producer wants live coverage… Can we take a rain check?”

The trio all nodded in agreement and expressed their support for Delilah’s need to get back to work in the field she had worked so hard the last year to break into.

“Thanks. I’ll text you all later!” She took a look at the email one more time and made her way to the door. As she was walking out, another person was making his way in; a man with longer shaggy light brown hair. He held the door open and made a gesture that said ‘after you’.

Delilah gave him a polite smile. “Uh, thanks.” And from there she was on her way to the site of tonight’s breaking news story.