#yeah this thought is not particularly coherent but anyway

[sylvanas-teyvat-travel-log]

so I've been thinking about what if Freminet was brought into Simulanka too -- as a resident, another clockwork toy

imagine that. Yes, Freminet, fairy tales are real. Here's a world full of them, existing just as you believed it did. And in a way, you belong here, too -- you will be one of its people even when you leave, and though you may think yourself clockwork, you have so much heart and feeling too. Look at these clockwork people, Freminet. If they can feel, so can you.

Imagine Freminet reading a fairy tale book (like he always does) and waking up in Simulanka the next day. Imagine Freminet introducing Pers to everyone and showing him around. Imagine him telling Lyney and Lynette all about it later and inviting them to visit it too. Imagine him actually having the courage to talk to people both from and not from Simulanka -- because if there's anything besides diving that he loves, it's fairy tales.

As for what his blessing to Mini Durin would be?

"I, Freminet, resident of Simulanka, give you my blessing. I hope that you will see the beauty of this place and experience a miracle for yourself."

[too-fond-to-be-fearful]

Been thinking recently about the goings-on with Duolingo & AI, and I do want to throw my two cents in, actually.

There are ways in which computers can help us with languages, certainly. They absolutely should not be the be-all and end-all, and particularly for any sort of professional work I am wholly in favour of actually employing qualified translators & interpreters, because there's a lot of important nuances to language and translation (e.g. context, ambiguity, implied meaning, authorial intent, target audience, etc.) that a computer generally does not handle well. But translation software has made casual communication across language barriers accessible to the average person, and that's something that is incredibly valuable to have, I think.

Duolingo, however, is not translation software. Duolingo's purpose is to teach languages. And I do not think you can be effectively taught a language by something that does not understand it itself; or rather, that does not go about comprehending and producing language in the way that a person would.

Whilst a language model might be able to use probability & statistics to put together an output that is grammatically correct and contextually appropriate, it lacks an understanding of why, beyond "statistically speaking, this element is likely to come next". There is no communicative intent behind the output it produces; its only goal is mimicking the input it has been trained on. And whilst that can produce some very natural-seeming output, it does not capture the reality of language use in the real world.

Because language is not just a set of probabilities - there are an infinite array of other factors at play. And we do not set out only to mimic what we have seen or heard; we intend to communicate with the wider world, using the tools we have available, and that might require deviating from the realm of the expected.

Often, the most probable output is not actually what you're likely to encounter in practice. Ungrammatical or contextually inappropriate utterances can be used for dramatic or humorous effect, for example; or nonstandard linguistic styles may be used to indicate one's relationship to the community those styles are associated with. Social and cultural context might be needed to understand a reference, or a linguistic feature might seem extraneous or confusing when removed from its original environment.

To put it briefly, even without knowing exactly how the human brain processes and produces language (which we certainly don't), it's readily apparent that boiling it down to a statistical model is entirely misrepresentative of the reality of language.

And thus a statistical model is unlikely to be able to comprehend and assist with many of the difficulties of learning a language.

A statistical model might identify that a learner misuses some vocabulary more often than others; what it may not notice is that the vocabulary in question are similar in form, or in their meaning in translation. It might register that you consistently struggle with a particular grammar form; but not identify that the root cause of the struggle is that a comparable grammatical structure in your native language is either radically different or nonexistent. It might note that you have trouble recalling a common saying, but not that you lack the cultural background needed to understand why it has that meaning. And so it can identify points of weakness; but it is incapable of addressing them effectively, because it does not understand how people think.

This is all without considering the consequences of only having a singular source of very formal, very rigid input to learn from, unable to account for linguistic variation due to social factors. Without considering the errors still apparent in the output of most language models, and the biases they are prone to reproducing. Without considering the source of their data, and the ethical considerations regarding where and how such a substantial sample was collected.

I understand that Duolingo wants to introduce more interactivity and adaptability to their courses (and, I suspect, to improve their bottom line). But I genuinely think that going about it in this way is more likely to hinder than to help, and wrongfully prioritises the convenience of AI over the quality and expertise that their existing translators and course designers bring.

[f1gridgirlie]

Back Home – DR3

word count: 2.5 k summary: Daniel comes back to Australia after leaving F1. Your years long crush and yearning for him finally gets a release. no use of y/n. warnings: smut, 18+, mdni, age gap (7 years), oral (m and f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex with previous consent (At least talk about it before hitting it raw guys…), cockwarming? Let me know if I forgot something a/n: I don't even know how this happened? I was sad and ovulating i guess. Lemme know what you think ! ____________________________________________________________

„And? Have you seen him yet?”, your mom asks innocently, while handing you a cup of coffee. You sigh. “No, mom. He’s not even back a week.” She looks at you. “Your brother and Daniel go to a Bar tonight, maybe you can come with them?” They WHAT? You shake your head. “No. I don’t wanna be the little sister again.” How could you explain to her, that since you’ve heard the news that Daniel is out of F1 (again), you could barely form a coherent sentence. Yes, you have loved this man for years. You have YEARNED for him almost as long. You don’t even remember the last time you didn’t fantasize about him whenever you pushed your own fingers into your pussy. Yes, he IS significantly older than you, but he’s always been in your life. Your family and his family are close and so your older brother used to hang out with him a lot. You always wanted him, he never knew. Well, up until 2012 that was, when he was off to Europe all curly hair, bright eyes and soon enough some braces. During the break, when it was summer in Australia, he came back. During a particularly bad night out, you, your brother, Daniel and his sister came back to his parents’ place. You were super tipsy and hormonal, so you took his arm and pulled him with you outside. “Are you going to be sick?” he asked mockingly. You sighed and turned around. “No. I’m horny.” you answered with more confidence than you felt. His eyes grew big. “So? What does that have to do with me? You’re a child and I’m an adult, I can’t help you with that.” Ouch. Adult? He’s only seven years older. “Not like it’s illegal.” You mumbled. He laughed. “It’s not like it’s right either. Look, you’re cute and all but you’ll have to find someone else.” You looked up at him. “Even if we wouldn’t go all the way?”  He stepped closer, leaning down “Oh baby, we would go all the way, after a few rounds.” and with that he walked back inside, leaving you at the verge of tears and orgasm.

The rest of the afternoon your thoughts are running wild. You have to see Daniel. He’s finally back home, and with his unknown future you need to seize every opportunity you can get. You told your brother that you would happily drive them both home when the time came. “You’ve always done it for me, now it’s my turn”, you smile at him. Their drinking and going out leaves you plenty of time to get showered, shaved, moisturized and ready for a one-night stand. You needed to show him that you’re a woman now. A hot, experienced woman at that. For the Drive you decide on a Mini-Skirt, a tight T-shirt and some boots. When you meet your brother and Daniel outside the bar, Daniel gives you a hug, before getting in the car. “Thanks for the ride. I’ve not seen you for ages.” You smirk. That was the plan. Your brother was fast asleep after ten Minutes in the car.  “Some things never change”, you say and chuckle. Daniel grins at you. “He still can’t handle alcohol very well. I like knowing what to expect back home.” What DOES he expect? That you’re still in love with him? He’s right about that. “I can imagine. Your working life was tumultuous to say the least.” He shrugs. “Yeah, but so fun. Anyway, how’s life treating you?” You concentrate on the road. “Not too bad. Nothing exciting has been happening.” Daniel raised a brow. “Really? Nothing? Not even a boyfriend or a situationship?” Wait, did he really just ask that? Everything in your body feels liquidy now. He gets it, the plan works. You try to play it cool. “Nope. Nobody seems interesting enough.” You pull into your Driveway and Daniel starts working on waking out brother up. “Do you want to stay over?” you ask him when he has managed to get your brother out of the car. He grins. “Actually, I would prefer my own apartment, if you don’t mind.” Oh. Great. This works out just like last time. “Yeah sure, I’ll get you there.”, you say a little disappointed.

“You wanna see it? It’s pretty neat.”, Daniel says as soon as you passed the many doors to even get to his apartment complex. A small hope starts forming in your stomach. “Sure. I want to see what your huge paycheck can buy.” Daniel laughs at your shitty attempt to play it cool. After he has shown you his impressive apartment, you’re sitting on a bar stool with a glass of Daniels wine in your hand. “So what do you think?” he asks, while also taking a sip of wine himself. He stands behind the bar, looking intensely at you. You smile “The view is great.”, you answer him. He grins. “Of me?” It feels like the whole world starts to fade away at the corners, only leaving him in full focus. God, yes. He looks so good. The tousled hair, his smile, his beard, a tight shirt that hugs every one of his muscles. “Yes, Ricciardo you also look great, is that what you wanted to hear?” you tease him a bit, while your heart starts working overtime and beating out of your chest. He slowly walks around the bar stopping before your crossed legs. “Actually, I kind of wished to hear something along the lines of ‘I’m horny’” He put his glass onto the table and laid a Hand on your thigh. Your mouth almost fell. He still remembered that dreadful night, where you acted like a fool? “Maybe I am. Why? Do you wanna tell me again, how you can’t help me?” You also put your glass down, uncrossing your legs. He smirks. “No. This time I will make your fantasies come true.” And with that he cups your face, leaning down and lays his lips onto yours. Immediately a moan escapes your throat when kissing him back. You hold onto his strong arms when Daniel wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him as his tongue starts toying with yours. Your brain is now empty of thoughts and witty remarks, all while your body feels electrified by Daniels presence. You put your hands under his shirt, feeling the slender waist and strong back muscles. This is everything you have hoped for in the last ten years. Daniel slowly moves over to his designer couch before he lays you down, with his hands slowly roaming over your stomach and hips. “You’re so beautiful. Your ass and thighs are what dreams are made of.”, he whispers against your lips. The want for him almost makes you go insane. “Danny, please, I need you so much.” You grip his hair to look into his eyes. They are dark with desire. “Babygirl, I have waited so long for this, I will savor every second of it.” And with that he pulls off his shirt and then yours.

With experienced hands he unhooks your bra, making your boobs spill into his open palms. He starts to suck and kiss your nipples while pushing his hairy chest against your stomach. You mewl at the feel of it.  You have never slept with a man that sports this much body hair. Ever hair seems to intensify your need. When his hand is under your skirt, slowly stroking your wet folds through your thin lace panties you almost orgasm on the spot. “Did you put this on in hopes of me seeing it?” Daniel looks at you. You only nod. “Every time I have seen you, I wore these. Got them with you in mind.” You confess. A dark need also takes over him as he pushes the Skirt up to your waist to look at the panties. Blue lace, on the corner a small golden number 3 is dangling against your hip. He leans down and kisses it before pulling the panties down with his teeth. “Fuck, I have seen a ton of horny shit in my life, but this tops everything. Did you wear that back then?” he asks while slowly stroking your clit. You nod: “I wanted you to finger fuck me on that porch so bad.” Thinking about it you feel your pussy clench. How many times have you masturbated to that thought? Daniel puts your leg on his shoulder, holding onto it, while looking at you. “I should have done it, princess. God knew I wanted to.” And with that he pushed his digit into your entrance. You grabbed onto his hair and moaned loudly. Fuck. Daniel chuckled. “I’m not even all the way in there.” But it was just like your fantasy. Better actually. With lazy movements he starts to finger fuck you on his couch. Within a few seconds you hear squelching sounds and can feel yourself basically pouring on Danny’s fingers. “God, you’re so hot when you’re desperate for me.” He mumbles. Then he leans down and sucks your clit into his mouth. The orgasm rips through you violently and you cannot stop yourself from screaming his name. The feeling of his clothed bulge against your tight makes you slowly come back to reality. Danny is busy toying with your boobs and kissing your neck. “Did you just go all fucked out and dumb for me?” he asks grinning widely.

You give him a little nod and start to palm him through his pants. He grunts but doesn’t protest when you start to undo his button and push his jeans and boxers off him. Eagerly he lays on his back to give you full access to his throbbing dick. The tip is already leaking. You try to fully savor the moment and the sight of a turned-on Daniel Ricciardo with your hand wrapped around his length. “Come on, I know you want a taste.” He encourages you to lay your lips onto his tip. You lean down, slowly licking his slit before putting him in your mouth. With one hand you try to pump his impressive length while bobbing your head. You’re so turned on, that moans escape you while your mouth is stuffed with his dick. He grabs onto your hair, giving you some rhythm. “Oh my god, you take my dick so well.” He groans. Even though his dick presses against the back of your throat, you can’t seem to care. His body, his moans and your hormones make you forget about anything other than pleasing this man.  His moans become deeper and his movements sloppier, telling you he’s close. “Fuck, if you don’t want me to cum in your mouth-“You tighten your lips more around his shaft and feel his load on your tongue. You swallow every drop happily, before looking at him again. “Are you ready for more?”, you ask as he pulls you towards him to kiss you again. He smirks. “Babygirl, give me five minutes, alright? I’m not 22 anymore.” Daniel sits up against the Couch and pulls you onto his tattooed thigh. A little shiver runs through you. Why are these Tattoos so fucking hot? You lean onto his big frame and soon he starts making out with you like you both were still teenagers. His hands back on your tits while he presents his neck for you to suck on. Under your lips you can feel every muscle and soon you leave little hickeys. With every one Daniel lets out little moans, which turn you on more. You start grinding on his thigh but within a few seconds Daniels hands on your hips stop you. “I’ve got something better for you to grind on.” He whispers before easily lifting you over onto his lap and hovering over his growing cock. “Do you want to use a condom princess? I have one in my pocket.”, he tells you being serious for once.

You shake your head, your brain still not operating normally. “I’m on birth control. If I get one chance with you, I want it raw.” Daniel grins again and pushes you onto his cock while also slipping his tongue into your mouth again. You can feel your tight pussy fluttering around his length and your clit hitting some of his pubes. You cannot hold back a moan.  “Good god, you’re taking me so well.”, Daniel lets you know also panting slightly. When you want to start bouncing, he holds your hips down. “Not right away, pretty. Try grinding now.” You hold onto his sculpted shoulders and do what he asks. Within seconds you know why he wanted you to do that. It feels incredible. Being stretched out by his cock and getting friction on your clit, he has you orgasming and moaning his name again within seconds. “Eyes on me Babygirl.”, Daniel demands while your brain barely functions. He cannot hold back the cockiest grin you’ve ever seen on that man. You slump against him, completely drained of energy. “Do you want to keep going?” he asks while also running his lips and tongue over your neck. You nod. He grabs your ass and then lays you onto your back without his cock ever leaving you. It all feels like a dream to you, still. With expert movements he starts to slowly fuck in and out of you, letting out little moans with every movement. His moans turn you on just as much as his cock does and soon you start moving your hips in synch with him causing even more wet, slapping sounds. “All this for me, princess?” you nod, not being able to form a sentence. “I want us to cum together, can you do that for me?” You don’t know if you had another orgasm in you, but Daniel would not let you hesitate.  While he still fucks into you, you can feel deliberate circle movements on your clitoris. Your hands fly onto his shoulders as you try to keep eye contact. “Close?” you nod again. Then orgasm hits again and you cry out Danny’s name again while you can also see and feel him cum. Your walls practically leaking with both of your releases. He collapses on top of you leaving you to play with his hair for a bit. “That was incredible. I have not gotten a fuck this great in years… if ever.” You smile. Your brain slowly starts thinking again. “This will give me material for my solo performances for years to come.” You can feel his dick twitch inside of you. Daniel looks at you. “No. No solo performances while I’m here. Call me or come over whenever your pussy needs me.” You smirk. “I’ll stay then.”

[dabisbratz]

can we cam up? eren yeager x male reader

w.c: 4.3k

genitalia terms: dick, cock, hole, fuckhole, cunt (1 time), pussy (1 time)

WARNING: spit, blowjob, rimming, anal (obvi), creampie, dirty talk, humiliation, filming, degradation, humiliation, nerd!eren, jock!reader, intoxication, may read kinda dubious but it’s 100% consensual, light d/s dynamic, alcohol, weed mention, dumbification, eren compares you to a hentai character one (1) time bc he’s deranged

a/n: i was kicking my feet twirling my locs screaming into my pillow writing this and it shows. also eren has a BIIIIG phat crush on you but i didn’t wanna get too into it… you definitely remember him, probably even sexted him w/o even knowing it was him

Let’s get one thing straight: You're not an arrogant man. Not at all— in fact, you’d consider yourself to be quite humble. This night may be about you and your winning score, but you’re humble about it. Considerate, even. So you feel no guilt when you accidentally spill alcohol on someone’s shirt, explaining that if they can somehow find you on instagram and send a DM, you’ll pay for the laundry and potential damages. The stranger peers at you with a funny glint in his green eyes as his hands pull the wet fabric apart from his skin, his glasses falling down the arched bridge of his nose.

You shrug and wave to your teammates, your football jersey loose on your form as you make way through the frat house’s large interior. Music blares in your ears for the millionth time tonight, the bass rattling your skeletal system with each increasingly tipsy step you take. Grinding, flushed bodies invade your vision, all around you as you shimmy through the sea of bodies to pour yourself another generous shot. Cool, blue rays of strobe lights dance and flicker across your eyelids. Warm, pink rays that caress your cheek like the confines of your safety helmet, the vinyl of your mouth guards. It overwhelmed you at first, so bright and unapologetic as your eyes adjusted and focused.

Somewhere beneath the tranquil hum of alcohol flowing through your veins you can feel your phone buzz in your pocket, rippling through your skin and sobering you up just a little.

Your girlfriend.

She’d been blowing up your phone all night, something along the lines of forgetting her gift for your anniversary— what was a few weeks, anyway? — and how ungrateful you were for yours. She was a good lay, a quick way to resort to getting your dick wet on particularly lonely nights; when you couldn’t stand the sound of silence dancing around your head. But that was all.

You shake the thought of her squawking voice the second you find Connie, surrounded by sorority girls with glossed lips and pink-tinted eyes. Finding solstice in his company, they’re huddled relatively close, knit together in some sort of baked clique. He’s perched over a bong, lighter in hand as he inhales the fumes with muffled haste. Pothead.

Your hand finds the crown of his head, palm nestled in the bristles of his buzz cut. Noone is allowed to touch Connie’s hair, at least not when he’s coherent enough to stop them. It usually ends in flying fists and bruised cheekbones, but all the man sends your way is a hazy glare. Someone punching the university’s all star just isn’t a good look. Especially when he’s pretty and popular with the public.

“Do that again and I’ll throw this bong at your head.” It’s an empty threat, clear of malice and slurred on Connie’s bitten lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” You steal the smoke exuding from his mouth, swishing the fog in your mouth a few times before blowing it back into his face. “Never again. Scouts honor.”

You shoot back up, mind reeling and posture straightening as a particularly pretty cheerleader hands you a bottle of something you can’t quite make out. It’s brown and rich though, smacking against the glass as you take a swig and chase it down with Connie’s leftover beer of all things.

One thing leads to another and suddenly you’re trapped between sobriety and full on plastered drunk. You remember chugging something sickeningly sweet, despite it leaving a harsh burn in the back of your throat as you took in a deep breath of victory. There were many eyes on you, loud cheers reverberating off the walls as you’re hoisted into the air for your skillful performance and high-fived by your frat brothers. But there are those green eyes again, staring straight through you with a look you can’t quite place.

Not that you can place much. You’re shitfaced.

He smells good, you later discover. There’s a strum of wind as he pushes forward and straight by you, weaving through the crowd like he’s invisible. The swaying of bodies— the sight is still so freshly imprinted in his brain, and it makes his head swim while liquor glides across his tongue, clumsy and inexperienced. He must not get invited to parties often. Or maybe he does, and you’ve just never noticed him.

He’s quite nerdy, some sort of graphic design on his stained shirt that resembles that of a video game or cartoon logo, and a poor excuse of a beard litters his chiseled jaw. And oddly handsome, pale face flushed from the alcohol, pink and pooling at the apples of his cheeks as he stares at you expectantly. But you’re not into men, and all the shots in the world couldn’t get you to even think of advancing with one. He quirks his thick brow in passing, settling back into his seat with a depleting mumble you can’t make out under the loud music.

But the alcohol paired with the sultry music-choice is doing things to you, you can’t help but stare longer than you should when he swallows down his adams apple, throat bobbing as he downs a fruity drink. His tongue darts over his lips, quick and steady as he nods along to the bass. You’re thinking with your dick, pushing past the batting lashes of cheerleaders and curvy bodies of sorority girls until you’re uncomfortably close to the guy who won’t stop looking at you.

“Do you- do you have a staring problem?” You ask, a slight slur to your voice as your face leans in close enough to count the nerd’s lashes individually.

Just to reiterate, you’re not arrogant. In the slightest.

He jumps back in response to the evasive question, strands of hair falling over his glasses as his emerald eyes roam your face. The lines are blurring now, his nerdy, almost irritating face looks kissable and inviting— his parted lips look warm and skilled. You can smell the pineapple on his tongue, sweet and citrusy.

“You heard me,” You hiccup straight into his face, watching his gorgeous features distort into something not even remotely akin to disgust, which makes confusion rack your brain. “Do you talk, or what?”

Your tongue is sharp, much to Eren’s chagrin. You’re too pretty to talk to people like that, especially him. He may look the way he does, but that doesn’t mean you can talk to him like that. It’s not like he can’t recognize a brat when he sees one. Usually, you’re a bubbly team player— everyone likes you, even if they say they don’t. Still, he shakes his head, humoring your drunken irritation. He understands, at least a bit, as he has a natural temper of his own.

Truthfully, Eren has been keeping his eyes on you for the past millennia. It started when he accidentally walked in on your practice, a sunny day that simply got brighter when he saw your face, cheerful and bright as you joked along with your teammates— Jean, Reiner, Levi? Was it? It didn’t matter, his focus was on you.

You and your sinfully tight compression shorts. You and your hands that curl into fists as you grasp at his sheets like a lifeline, as if holding them tight will somehow keep him inside of you, right where he belongs.

You and your stupid football that’d smacked him right in the face at full speed. But it was in his favor, you came running over apologetically as he rubbed away the blooming bruise. Your voice was sweet then, a melodic chirp that he couldn’t stop thinking about since then. He wants to hear it break.

It seems you too always meet at the expense of his dignity. But not tonight.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Eren grunts, sliding his glasses back up his nose and turning his head away. His glasses are fogged up, but it might just be saving his pride. He’d rather not get hard in front of the person he’s been fantasizing about for the past few months, not when you clearly had no recollection of him. He doesn’t blame you. “My bad. I’m not, yknow, stalking you or anything.”

“Oh, because staring for hours and stalking are very different things,” You’re staring at his lips now, ignoring the vibration in your hand. The second your phone screen lights up you slam it face-down into your front pocket. There isn’t an ounce of remorse in his voice, like his response is calculated and open-ended. “What if I like that?”

Your eyebrows wiggle, even with the mind splitting sensation of your brain beating against your skull. Almost as hard as your heart hammering in your chest. Eren’s scoff is barely audible over the music, but the comment has his heart racing.

You pull him in by the collar of his t-shirt, fists bunched up in the dark fabric as your lips press against his. It’s feverish and sloppy, your teeth occasionally grazing his own. His mouth is hot and wet, fruity essence on his tongue as it slips past your lips and into your mouth. You’ve never had a kiss feel this good. He nips at your bottom lip, pearly teeth digging into the skin until he feels you make an embarrassingly high pitched noise in your throat.

There’s a twinkle in his teal eyes as his posture straightens, slowly leaning back to catch a breath of fresh air (as fresh as it can get, anyway). You watch him readjust his position, lifting his hips instead of his actual body, practically rutting into the thickening air as he shifts. His bubblegum lips curl into a lazy smile as his fingertips circle the rim of the red solo-cup he’s been drinking from. “What if I like you?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Your phone just doesn’t shut up, does it?” There’s clear agitation in his voice, his arched eyebrows furrowed as your feet carry you somewhere much more secluded. Eren trails behind you, his eyes glued on the mound of your ass as you walk. He has to help you occasionally, without even knowing the layout of the place, just so you don’t fall over. The light shine of your phone screen emits across your hip, and he can see the contact of whoever it is that’s so deeply desperate for your attention.

Too bad it’s all on him.

“I’m a pop— popular man.” You finally respond, shutting the door behind you to what Eren assumes is your bedroom in the frat house. It’s between two other bedrooms and across from three more, with a sizable closet that holds more trophies than clothing.

“Can see why, pretty mouth like that,” The words slip before he can think, but it’s worth it to see the way you oh, so conveniently hiccup in response. The implication of you being some type of campus whore makes your throat feel tight, and you can’t help but twitch in your tight pants. “Talks a lot of shit, though.”

“You talk too much.” Correction: he doesn’t talk enough. But you shut him up with a kiss anyway, hungry and frantic because whatever this is, whatever you feel when you look at him, you don’t want it to end. His hands travel under your shirt, cold from his previous icy drinks, and you squirm under his palms. He spreads goosebumps across your skin, and when his fingers brush the bud of your nipples you can’t help but jolt where you stand.

A malicious grin snakes across Eren’s face, all teeth and predatory as he runs his tongue over his sharp canine teeth. “Been thinking about fucking you for weeks. The whole time we were talking, all I could think about was shoving you down on my dick.”

Oh. Your cock aches at that, which is almost already too much for you, you’ve never done this before. Not with a man, not with someone who looks at you like they’re going to devour you whole. You swallow hard, alcohol dispelling from your body the more blood rushes south, and suddenly you’re on your knees, unbuttoning Eren’s jeans with trembling hands.

The door locks behind you, a small click that only the two of you can hear. You look back up at the nerd, who’s watching you intently with a smirk.

He’s a complete juxtaposition to his appearance— if you were a bad man you’d call him a loser, but he exudes dominance and power. You want to wiggle under his gaze, shifting your weight between knees. Eren’s large hands cradle your face, oddly tender and affectionate as he rubs your cheekbones, slowly sliding them to the sides of your head. He lifts your gaze, forcing eye contact.

His glasses hang low on his nose, clouded from his breath as he lets out a satisfied sigh. You want to pull on his hair, flyaways barely reaching the base of his neck as the rest remains in a ponytail.

“This okay?” His tone is beyond sincere.

“Yeah,” You breathe, momentarily losing yourself in the forest of his irises. Blinking rapidly, Eren removes his hands from your head to free himself from his jeans, his long cock decorated in a small vein that disappears below his head. It’s pretty, arched against his stomach and dripping onto his shirt. The leaking precum makes you wonder how long he’s been hard. “Yeah. This is—this is more than okay.”

“Open,” It’s more of a command than anything, Eren’s very hands on, his fingers slipping into your mouth to pull at the corners of your mouth. Your tongue covers your teeth, your mouth watering as his salty fingertips graze your tongue. His other hand is busy working at the head of his cock, twisting smooth circles over the slit until it crashes down against your tongue. Again, and again, and again. “Good boy.”

You find yourself drooling on your jersey, sucking in a deep breath through your nose as his tip rests on your tongue. He goes slow at first, letting you suck on the tip while his fist roams his shaft. You’re a big boy, he knows you can handle much more than just the head— even if he is thick. Your eyes water immediately, gagging instinctually as he shoves his dick deeper into your mouth. “Say thank you.”

Before you can pull away with an answer, both hands return to the back of your head, holding you in place. He encourages you to breathe through your nose, cooing at your inexperienced efforts to catch the drool escaping your mouth, and even goes as far as to wipe one of your tears, “Gonna thank me? F’letting you be such a good, warm n’ wet hole for me?”

You feel yourself nodding, blinking hazily as he rocks in and out of your mouth. There’s a sound you don’t recognize coming from your throat, squelching and soaked, and it has you whimpering on the mouthful of cock. You don’t mean to make such a pitiful noise, but it feels so good, letting yourself go a little brainless over a cute boy.

You slurp loudly— not on purpose, but it earns a throaty chuckle from the man above you. He pulls out to let you breathe, his cock slowly sliding up your throat and past your lips until all you can do is whine and lean forward, lips wet with spit. The tears in your eyes spill unabashedly, your face nearly crashing against his dick.

“Thank you.”

“Hm? For what?”

You want to groan, to bang your fists against the wall because he’s being so mean. He knows what you mean, you know what you mean. Regardless, still focused on his cock just inches away from your face, you moan against nothing. It’s a light noise, breathy and quiet but effective enough to make his cock jump. “Please, please— I mean- fuck, thank you for letting me be…yours.”

Eren tuts, feigning annoyance as he grips your chin between his fingers, digging into the soft skin so you’re actually focused on his face. You smile into his palm, eyelashes batting against your cheek and he just can’t help but spit onto your cheek.

“What, d’you just go dumb the second you see some dick?”

You’re barely listening, instead grinding against the fabric of your jeans because his touch treatment has you feeling some kind of way. “Does your girlfriend know her boyfriend’s a cockslut too? Does she know other boys spend their nights getting your holes wet, fuckin’ you in the same bed?”

It’s much easier to hear the vibrations in your pocket now that you’re alone, the only barrier between you being the muffled music on the other side of the door. Eren’s hand leaves your jaw, and you have no complaints when he helps you to remove your jeans.

The jersey can stay on, though. He wants to fuck you in it.

He pushes you into your bed, watching you bounce in the mattress in nothing but your jersey, and helps himself into solely his birthday suit. You’re just as exposed, seemingly moreso, as he pulls your bottom half into his lap. It’s an odd position, not anything you’re used to, maybe your exes and past hookups— but never you.

Eren hunches over, his breath tantalizingly close to your hole. First, he licks a fat stripe across the surface, holding your thighs open when they threaten to instinctively close. You can’t prop yourself up on your elbows at this angle, your feet dangling over his shoulders while he holds you up. The nerd is stronger than he looks.

His tongue is hot and wet, and you feel yourself clenching when a glob of spit lands on your hole. He massages it in with his ring and middle finger, and your body finds itself squirming against his touch. You expect fingers, one at first, maybe, then another. But instead he uses his tongue, lets it dip inside and lap at your insides. Eren looks hungry, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he spreads you open and holds you there with an iron grip. A punched-out “Eren!” leaves your lips the second his tongue is lapping you up, leaving tingles up your spine and smog in your brain.

He kneads his fingers into the fat of your thighs, nipping occasionally where your skin folds into your ass, just to get another choked whine out of you. And, oh, you whine. The intrusion isn’t unwelcome, in fact, the feeling of Eren’s face slick with his spit as he tries to get his tongue as deep as he can into you makes your toes curl. You fist your bedsheets, finding comfort in the pillows you’re pressed into, and go as far as to hold yourself open for the man while he goes to grab something.

“Oh, baby. You shouldn’t have,” You shiver at the sound of his dark chuckle, and squeal when his ring finger finds a spot next to his tongue. “Look at that. Hole’s leaking. You just sit here and look pretty while I fuck it on my tongue, hm? Think you can do that?”

“Mhmmm, mhm, yeah! I can— I can do that, ‘Ren.” You sound like a bitch, with your nose buried in your pillow as you moan with every brush to that special spot inside of you. Your cock jumps against your stomach, leaking into your belly button and down your chest. Your jersey is ruined, but so are you, especially when Eren rubs your cock once, twice—

Holy shit. You’re cumming.

“That’s it, come on, give it to me.” Your jersey catches it all, right over your reserved number and embroidered nameplate. Your brain is too fried for you to care, tears streaming down your face as your hole flutters on his tongue and fingers. Sensitive now, moreso than you were before, you whimper and shimmy in Eren’s lap, simultaneously moving toward and away from his touch. He keeps you where you are though, staring at your blissed out face through clouded glasses and licking his lips like he’s just finished eating the best meal he’s ever had. And as if that’s not enough to have you cumming again already, he places an open-mouthed kiss to your puffy hole just for good measure.

“You felt so soft on my tongue, fuck, I almost busted right on you,” His cheeks are pink, and the rosy shade blooms down his neck and disappears into his chest. He pulls you forward by your wrist, sucking on your tongue and licking over your lips so you can taste yourself. He’s gonna be the death of you.“Bet this hole’s gonna be even softer. Nice and warm while you take my cock. Gonna let me cum inside? Pump that soft cunt full until it’s all creamy and used?”

He’s so filthy, so unashamed. The nickname doesn’t go unheard, and despite the slutty moan that you let out in response, part of you wants to pinch him just for that. Damn Eren and his shameless mouth! But you nod anyway, an everlasting stream of ‘yesyesyes’ floating in the air as he lines himself up to finally give you what you’ve been gagging for so prettily.

Eren just can’t help himself. Not when you’re folded up and presenting yourself to him like this. Not when your eyes are wide and your lips are parted and you’re letting out such pretty sounds. Sounds that belong to him. Plus it’s not all on him, you’re the one with an unlocked phone. You’re the one with space in your camera roll.

He’s sure the camera is shaky, maybe even a little blurry, but he makes sure to get your face in it, fucked-out and crosseyed as he pounds his dick into you, keeps you steady with his hand on your jaw. A string of precum connects you together, pooling at your ass and Eren’s thighs as his hips crash down, yours convulsing upward to meet him halfway. It’s a bit half-assed on your part, but who’s gonna blame the guy getting fucked stupid?

“‘Ren, you’re,” You sob in disbelief, eyes rolling along with your hips. “You’re— ohh, you’re fuckin’ me.”

He smiles down at you, feral and heated as he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his balls slapping against the curve of your ass. He never seems to stop, always chasing that feeling of you clamping down on him even when you’re almost too sensitive to take it. “That’s right, I’m fuckin’ you. Just how you like it, hm? Right in your fuckhole. S’what it’s there for, right?”

“That’s—“ Absurd? Vulgar? Objectification? It’s hot. It’s hot and you know it, Eren knows it, and your dick sure as hell knows it too because you can feel your next orgasm coming. “Yeah. N’my fuckhole.”

He makes a pleased sound in response, groans and pants joining your moans when he speeds up, his slow and deep strokes becoming fast and hollow, pounding that sensitive spot deep inside you over and over and over. “Should train you to take this dick.”

“Hold on,” Despite looking straight at him you can’t understand what he’s saying, not until his glasses are placed over your eyes and you’re blinking away the prescription blur. You struggle to collect yourself, wailing as you reach for his free hand that begins to nestle between your jawline and your neck. He squeezes affectionately, lets you cry and arch on his cock while he breathlessly sighs, “You look straight outta my favorite hentai.”

And, technically, you’re making a sextape now. A tape that showcases closeups of his cock disappearing deep inside you, pummeling your puffy hole until it carves the shape of his dick into you. Until only Eren can fit, big and thick and unbelievably deep. A tape that has you, a popular and well-known straight jock, crying on the dick of a guy you just met.

“Eren, m’gonna… ‘Ren—” You may as well scream, your body tensing as you spray across your chest — when did your jersey get bunched up enough to expose you like that? — sticky cum shooting out your spent cock until you’re twitching, handsfree and body ablaze. He doesn’t let up, castelon eyes narrowed as he fucks you through it, watching more cum squirt from your cock, milking himself for all he’s worth. “Inside, wanna be full, I deserve it, please, Rennie.”

He bounces you a few times, watching you fall back onto his cock until he feels himself aching hard, hard enough to start cumming inside you. It’s the nickname that gets him, groaning loud as he pumps a load inside you. It’s messy, and downright pornographic watching his cum leak out of you, just for him to fuck it back in with the head of his dick. It’s clear you feel proud of yourself for making him tremble inside you, and Eren takes the opportunity to scrapbook the memory.

“C’mere,” He’s not asking, simply pulling you closer to the camera so it can focus on your cum-stained face. “Smile for me, baby. Tell your ‘girlfriend’ how much you like it in your pussy too.”

[justcallmecj]

Don't Play With Love Potions

"Is it bad I'm curious what the guys would do if someone slipped alovepotion into their food/drinks as a prank, and reader was the first person they saw?" Courtesy of- Luna the shiny eevee (On Quotev)

Anyway, I randomized a boy and got Jack! There was no specific person in that comment, so I hope they won't mind that I chose one of the boys myself! (Lots of flustered and embarrassed Jack!)

        Potions class was kicking his ass. It's like Crewel just suddenly decided to throw a shit ton of information at the class out of nowhere and wanted them to be able to do everything on short notice!

        Now, potions class may not be Jack's best subject, but he's never particularly struggled with it. All he had to do was pay attention and study, when need be, and he'd be good. Someone must have done something to Crewel for him to suddenly torture his students.

        But all that is what led Jack to be where he is now. In the potionology classroom, hunched over a book of recipes, ingredients strewn about the table and some red-ish colored liquid boiling in a cauldron. For the most part, everything was going according to plan. He'd been practicing and studying the potions and retained most of the information without any problems.

        Then, his friend Y/N came into the room. His sharp ears immediately caught onto their entrance, and he turned to greet them.

        "Hey Y/N! What brings you here?" he asked while putting down the vial he held in his hand. Y/N walked over to him and placed down their bag.

        "Nothing much honestly." they said. Their wings spread out wide behind their back and their tail curled around in front of them. "I heard that you were studying in here and thought I'd come keep you company!" Y/N pulled out a laptop from their bag and placed it on the table as they sat across from Jack.

        "Well, thank you. I don't mind the company as long as you don't distract me." Jack joked, causing Y/N to laugh. They waved a hand dismissively as they reassured Jack that they wouldn't distract him while he was working.

        Seeming to remember something, Y/N reached into their bag again and pulled out a plastic bag from it. "By the way, Ruggie asked me to give this to you." they said as they handed the plastic bag to Jack. He took it and pulled out a ham and turkey sandwich. "He said he made a little too much food today and made a sandwich for you with some of the leftovers. He ran into me while trying to find you and asked me to give it to you."

        Jack took a bite out of the sandwich and realized how hungry he had actually been. Usually, he gets a snack after school, but he didn't since he stayed behind to study. Happily, he had a few more bites and left what was left for when he's done with work.

        Y/N giggled watching Jack garble down the food like he hadn't eaten in days. Jack pouted at their teasing but just pushed it to the back of his mind.

        Jack and Y/N sat in comfortable silence and did their individual work for a good 20 minutes when Y/N noticed that Jack had stopped moving. They moved their laptop to the side and tried to get Jack's attention.

        "Jack? Hey! Are you okay? Jack! JACK!" they kept waving their hand in front of his face, but nothing could snap him out of this strange trance. Not even his ears twitched at the yelling and calling of his name. Y/N's worry only increased when Jack's eyes closed, and his head hit the table.

        They stood up and rushed to his side and shook his shoulders. Slowly, Jack got back up.

        "Jack?! Are you okay?? What happened!?" He held his head in his hands and shook around, trying to wake himself up. He still had yet to respond to Y/N. After a few moments, groggily, he finally spoke.

        "Yeah, yeah, I'm....good..." His words were slurred, but coherent. That was enough to stamp down Y/N's worries a tad. He finally gained the strength to look up. His eyes met Y/N and stayed there, like he was stuck. If Y/N didn't know they had impeccable eyesight, they would have played off the faint, pink swirl in his eyes as their imagination.

        Something wasn't right, and Y/N knew it.

        "Hey...you're really pretty, you know that?" he said, snapping Y/N from the spiral of thought in their mind.

        "W-what?" Y/N stuttered. Why would he suddenly say that? Jack looked away and hid his face by his shoulder. A faint blush crept up his neck and he mumbled something to himself that Y/N didn't bother to try and understand.

        "I said...that you're really pretty." He was still facing the other direction. "I-Is there something wrong with me saying that??" Jack asked, he turned his head back to face Y/N and willed himself to look them in the eyes.

        Once they looked closer, Y/N saw the difference in Jack. It definitely wasn't their imagination. There was a pink color in Jack's eyes, it swirled and mixed with his gold eyes, pulsing at times and sending ripples through the mixed color.

        There had to have been something in that sandwich Jack ate.

        "Jack? How do you feel right now?" Y/N waited for a response but didn't let go of his shoulders. Jack was slow to respond, seemingly distracted by looking at Y/N's eyes.

        "I feel...just fine.." he stalled. "But I feel like kissing you.." That caught Y/N off guard. They felt their face heat up and their brain failed to think straight. Jack's words seemed to finally hit him. His cheeks grew pink and his ears laid flat against his head. Despite the embarrassment, he didn't back down. He continued to stare Y/n in the eyes, even if it made the blushing worse.

        Y/N finally started to understand what may have happened and now Jack's sudden words made sense. A love potion. A potion that induces and increases a person's love. It typically lasts for a couple hours, five usually, but can be more or less depending on the strength of the potion. People also tend to be a lot more...verbal with their feelings when under the potion's effects.

        Jack confessing he wanted to kiss Y/N really didn't help Y/N ignore the feelings they had for Jack that they preferred to keep down.

        Y/N's liked Jack for a long time now but was too scared to admit it. They didn't know if he'd return the feelings and didn't want to risk ruining their friendship. But due to the current circumstance, they could indulge a little, right? Chances were high he'd only have fuzzy memories once the potion wore off, and then Y/N could just play it off as trying to help him with the potions effects if he asked. One method to get a potion like this to wear off quicker is to indulge the person.

        What if he does end up remembering? What would I do then? He'd hate me after that. There's no way he wouldn't.

        There's only one small detail Y/N forgot about love potions.

        They can't create feelings, only enhance already existing ones.

        Jack seemed to lose whatever patience he had. He got closer to Y/N's face, which snapped them out of their spiral of thoughts. He just stayed there, staring. Y/N didn't know what to do.

        "Can I?" he asked, his voice was filled with emotions, some of which Y/N had never heard from him. It took a moment before they understood what he was asking. He genuinely wanted to kiss them. Would he be saying these things if he wasn't under the potion's effects?

        Y/N nodded.

       Jack moved forward, all the way until his lips connected with Y/N's. His ears stood up again, and his tail wagged even if he tried to stop it. Y/N wasn't doing any better controlling themselves. Their tail uncurled and swished behind them. Their wings twitched and the longer the two stayed like that, the more the wings flared out.

        Y/N gently pushed Jack back a bit. He wasn't the happiest with that action but did nothing to stop it just in case. Y/N turned away from him, intense blush covering their face. The sight made Jack blush, but he also chuckled at them. Y/N got even more flustered and pushed Jack more forcefully as well as hit him on the top of his head, but it was a gentle hit and lacked the force to hurt.

        "Jack...I think we should be careful about this." Y/N finally managed to say. Jack raised his brow in confusion.

        "Why?" he asked. Y/N could hear the tad bit of hurt in his question. Crap. He's not in a clear enough mind for me to tell him about the potion, he'd reject the idea. I need to come up with an actual reason. 

        "Is t-this really something you want to do out in the open?" Y/N asked. Jack brought his face closer again and Y/N stumbled to elaborate. "I-I mean!" they took a breath, "shouldn't we go somewhere where it can just be the two of us? To avoid being interrupted!" For the Sevens sake, that shouldn't have been as hard as it was, nor that embarrassing!!

        "I guess..." he started. Y/N watched as a resolve settled in his eyes. He swiftly put away the potion ingredients he was studying, stuffed his books into his bag, carefully put Y/N's stuff in their bag, grabbed both bags and latched onto Y/N's wrist, pulling them out of the potionology room.

        Y/N didn't know where Jack was dragging them, but they didn't put up a fight about it. Eventually, Jack came to a stop, forcing Y/N to do the same. They found themself at the door of an empty classroom. With a final tug, Jack pulled Y/N into the classroom. He placed both of their things by a desk and motioned for them to sit down. They obliged. They scooted over so Jack could sit too. The seat was plenty long, so there was plenty of space. (It's like the desks you see in the lessons of the game)

        He took the seat and faced the front of the room, not Y/N. They took the initiative to break the ice.

        "Jack, why are we in here?" they asked, placing a hand on the others shoulder. There was no way they could miss how Jack's tail wagged at the contact. He turned to Y/N, and Y/N caught sight of his current condition on full volume. His cheeks and a bit of his neck was fully pink. His face scrunched up with embarrassment. The potion was doing all sorts of things to him, and he didn't understand to the same degree that Y/N did.

        He quickly reached for Y/N's hands, holding them in his own, then using what seemed like quite a bit of willpower to look them in the eyes. Y/N met that stare with some embarrassment of their own.

        "I don't really know what I'm doing right now, but I'm going to keep going with it until something happens!" he shouts, more to himself than to Y/N from the sound of it.

        He let go of Y/N's hands and pulled them into a tight hug. Y/N was stunned with shock as Jack tightened the hug slightly. He was clearly pushing himself to make sure he didn't chicken out and embarrass himself further. Once Y/N had enough time to process Jack's actions, they returned the hug, pulling their wings around their conjoined forms and encasing the two in a protective cocoon.

        Now in the cocoon, his heart rate, which Y/N had been listening to since the potion effects started, slowed down considerably from what it had been this whole time. His grip loosed just a bit, he seemed more at ease. He knew how large Y/N's wings were, and he was sure that no one could see him from the outside with the way they covered him. It let him calm down.

        He pulled away just enough to properly speak to Y/N. "Sorry," he mumbled. He nuzzled his head into their neck a little, which tickled but Y/N stayed still as to not freak him out. But they did allow a small giggle to escape their lips. Jack, upon hearing this, huffed and nuzzled further into their neck. This only gave Y/N more reasons to giggle and laugh. Eventually though, they took pity on the poor wolf.

        "So, did you bring me in here just to cuddle with me?" they asked, Y/N really was curious to know if that's all Jack had planned. He pulled his head back and stared into Y/N's eyes. That pink from earlier swirled around in the gold again. Y/N had come to realize that it was a tell-tale sign that the love potion was doing something.

        Jack closed the space between the two again and locked Y/N into another kiss. Thankfully, they were a bit better prepared this time for the feeling and how it effected them. Jack pushed into Y/N more than he had the first kiss. Y/N made sure to keep their wings up and around Jack, wanting to make him feels as comfortable as possible.

        After a good while of long kisses and a few pecks on the lips mixed in, Jack let Y/n go. He backed up, but not far enough that Y/N had their own personal space again. Their noses brushed against one another whenever either breathed a certain way.

        Jack looked kinda out of it. Like his brain was still caught up in the middle of the make out session that just happened. "....I love you," he muttered under his breath. "I have for a long time, but I didn't know how to say it." Y/N was utterly shocked. They didn't know what to say.

        The boy they'd been heavily crushing on for months, the same boy they had watched from across the table at lunch every day, the same boy that was right then practically sitting in their lap, red all over his face, eyes half lidded, and had just made out with them not even a minute ago, was now sitting there and confessing that he loved them. It was a situation they had played out in their head countless time, but never expected to come true. But it had. What else can they do-

        "I love you too, Jack." they said breathlessly.

        -but seize the moment?

        Those words excited Jack. He looked up with a brand-new vigor in his eyes. He lit up, pushing himself up. His tail wagged fiercely behind him, and his ears flicked in every which direction. "Really!?" he shouted, a little to loud for Y/N's powerful hearing and how close he was right now. They giggled, nonetheless.

        "Yes, Jack. I feel the same way, have for a long time." He basically jumped at Y/N, pushing them backwards and forcing them onto their back against the long seat of the classroom. He laid on their chest, practically beaming with joy and love. This is my new favorite face for him.

        He finally settled down and rested his chin on the middle of Y/N's chest. Not far from their face, but not too close for it to feel claustrophobic, especially since they were still cocooned.

        They both just sat there and stared into each other's eyes, admiring the one they loved. Y/n watched as the pink swirl in his eyes got faster and faster, curling into itself before finally fizzing out and disappearing. He smiled differently than before, a smile that could leave anyone with no doubt, that he absolutely loved Y/N.

        "I love you." he said.

        "What are you laughing to yourself about?" Leona asked Ruggie with clear annoyance in his tone. Ruggie, who had been hunched over the counter with and open bag of bread, leftover lunch meat and a now empty glass vial with a bit of pink residue on it, made one more giggle before looking his dormleader in the eyes. He adjusted himself to be leaning against the counter more comfortably.

       "You remember our little conversation about how annoying it was to watch our Dear Dragon and Little Wolf pin each other for so long without realizing they both liked each other?" he asked. Leona looked him up and down like he may have lost it from all the laughing.

        "Yeah, it was annoying and starting to get on my nerves. What about it?" Ruggie reached over and grabbed the empty vial. He held it up to Leona, who grabbed it and put it up to his nose. He blanched from the strong smell the moment it hit him. He knew exactly what potion this was, he remembered the class where he made it for some test vividly.

        "Well, I think I found a damn good solution. And all it took was a sandwich and a little errand from Y/N." he laughed that signature laugh of his. Leona couldn't help but chuckle along with him. Finally, the ever-painful shows of pinning between Y/N and Jack were being put to an end.

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

just finished watching under the red hood and oh boy i have some thoughts.

warning: spoilers for utrh the movie obviously, a very long and not particularly coherent rant, i have not read the comic yet because i heard jason gets treated even worse in it but i’ll probably get around to it soon

first of all, i didn’t realize how violent it was, especially considering it’s a kids show. not only that but how callously jason just kills people. like i was aware but i kind of assumed that he did it when it was necessary. but sometimes he kills people when he could just incapacitate them. i think it adds another layer of complexity to his character, like i see why he’s an anti-hero bordering on villain to some people and not just a misunderstood hero.

not that i don’t stand by his points about killing the joker, but i do understand why bruce wasn’t exactly eager to welcome him back with open arms (i still think he could be a better father though).

ON THE SUBJECT OF BRUCE AS A FATHER. it physically pains me to hear him never acknowledge jason as his son. jason’s always his soldier, his partner, his fault. thank god jason never heard the shit bruce said because i would rage if i were him. you can’t call somebody your partner if you don’t see them as your equal. and how could jason be his equal? he was a child. at best he is his son. at worst he is his ward. either way, no child wants to hear that they’re a mistake. not their death, not the way they were raised or trained. just their whole existence. like thanks bruce, you really know how to make amends with your children.

and on that topic, there’s this theme of like oh was jason always destined to be a criminal? like was there truly nothing bruce could’ve done to stop him? it literally broke my heart when jason said maybe he was always the monster under the mask, like to hear him give up on himself like that made me want to cry. i hate this idea of this life being his fate. especially since bruce was like oh yeah he was stealing my car tires, he was raised to be a criminal and all that. i don’t think the writers meant it in that way but for a billionaire who also breaks the law to say that a child who grew up poor was always meant to be a criminal rubs me the wrong way. like i don’t think he has the moral high ground to say some of the things he says because jason did make a point when he talked about how joker has killed way too many people for batman to let him go.

anyways, do i think murder is wrong and what jason did was reprehensible? yes, although the becoming crime lord thing to control it in gotham was very smart. but is it so bad that he couldn’t have just come home? gotten therapy and had a semi normal life again? gotten to kill the joker as a little treat? no. he was like, what, 18 or 19 during the movie? and also traumatized and in desperate need of therapy? i’m not excusing his actions but when you grow up fighting these violent criminals and also being tortured and killed by one, it certainly blurs the lines. so i understand, and i think there is still redemption for him.

and the real villain of the story is the gotham criminal justice system for never doing anything about crime alley or keeping people like the joker from breaking out of arkham every week.

[kiwiana-writes]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love. ❤️

I love that you sent this to me while I was still asleep, BEFORE the conversation we had this morning about me having 259 fanworks on AO3. I mean, I think you would have done it anyway, but still: asking me to pick a top five is extremely cruel and unusual behaviour 🤣

So. In no particular order in reverse chronological order because I just went through my works list to decide, kiwiana's five favourite kiwiana fics (at least today, because I definitely have the 'can't pick favourites' flavour of neurospicy):

Like loving the stars themselves

[RWRB, Alex/Henry, E, 7.2k words]

When he emerges out the other end of the alleyway and almost runs straight into a solid blue wall that wasn’t there last time he visited this area of town, Henry assumes his wandering thoughts have conjured an illusion. He blinks, and blinks again, but it’s still there: NORA’s unassuming back wall, the broken chameleon circuit now over thirty centuries out of date to blend into her surroundings the way she’s supposed to, her anomalous presence a wrench in Henry’s carefully laid plans. Alex is here. Or, Alex is a Time Lord, and time is complicated; Henry keeps meeting him out of order, and it's been a while.

I just... I genuinely think this is the best thing I've ever written. Along with Much Ado, it's the fic that is most strongly Peak MJ Vibes, and I am really fucking proud of the story crafting in this one. I LOVE writing fics, particularly one-shots, that have such a strong sense of the wider world they sit in while still being a satisyfingly complete story in their own right, and I don't think I've ever done that better than I did here. If you have no knowlege of Doctor Who, I PROMISE you do not need to be scared of this fic lol.

Puck It

[RWRB, Alex/Henry, E, 9.7k words]

“I’m English, dear,” Henry tells him, and fuck if the nickname isn’t doing something to Alex too. “Our national sport is rugby, and we play it with a lot less protective gear. Though,” he adds thoughtfully, “rugby players do wear mouth guards, which means they have the significant advantage of generally keeping all their teeth.” “We wear mouth guards.” It’s a common misconception, and one that annoys the shit out of him. “And I’ve still got all my teeth. Wanna check?”

HOCKEY! HOCKEY! THE GREATEST GAME IN THE LAND! This fic is so wildly different to what I intended it to be, but I absolutely love what it turned into. The college hockey AU that is somehow not quite a college AU and not quite a hockey AU, but is also definitively both. I love love LOVE both Alex and Henry in this, and I adore this fic.

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest)

[RWRB, Alex/Henry, E, 65.5k words]

Alex is a former child star struggling to make the transition into being seen as a serious actor. He jumps at an opportunity to perform on stage in the UK, seeing it as a way to break free from the typecasting and show what he can really do. But he wasn’t prepared to star alongside someone he hates. // Henry is a recent theatre graduate who accepts an amazing role in a queer reimagining of Much Ado About Nothing. And then it turns out his co-star is none other than the man he’s been hopelessly pining after for years—even though Henry made a terrible first impression when they met. // It’s… well, it’s practically Shakespearean.

First of all, I dropped chapter one of this fic one year ago today, so happy ficaversary to Much Ado! And... yeah. There's no universe in which this fic doesn't end up in my top five. I wrote this fic in a ~five week fever dream and it's probably only coherent because of @celeritas2997 and @ships-to-sail putting in a bunch of hard beta work lmao. It's just SUCH a love letter to theatre, to Shakespeare, to the power of queer joy. All things that are so fucking important to me!

And all the rest's illusion

[Schitt's Creek, David/Patrick, T, 1.8k words]

The first time David uses the word 'queer' to refer to him, it brings Patrick up short.

AKA 'MJ projects their feelings about how goddamn amazing the word queer is and makes a bunch of people cry, apparently'. This was a little bit of a spite reaction to ahistorical, ~q slur~ takes on queer as an umbrella term and I stand by that. Also, whenever I'm feeling like my writing isn't important/doesn't reach people/isn't adding any value to the world, I read through the comments on this fic and have a good cry. If YOU are feeling Not Queer Enough, I highly recommend reading through the comments on this fic and have a good cry even if you're not a Schitt's Creek person.

How much love will you happily take

[Schitt's Creek, David/Patrick, T, 8.0k words]

The trouble is, they don’t really have any privacy outside of the store — at least one member of David’s family is always at the motel, and Ray has never met a boundary he won’t cheerfully skip over. Neither of those seem like the ideal place to say 'so, I’m actually a virgin' or 'funny thing, apparently my dick’s so big no one wants to have sex with me', but the store hardly seems like an appropriate place to have that conversation either.

This started out as size kink and turned into eight thousand words of psychological kink analysis. I gave MULTIPLE people a humiliation kink with this one and I am, not joking, exceptionally fucking proud of that. LOVE to help people realise things about themselves with my writing.

[outofangband]

Then through the throng came the sons of Fëanor, flying from the North and they bore new tidings of evil. Maedhros  spoke for them. “Blood and darkness!’ he cried. ‘Finwë the king is slain and the Silmarils are gone!’

….Darkness and blood! When we could move again we came to the house. 

I was talking to @nelyoslegalteam and @potatoobsessed999 about the darkening scene detailed through Maedhros’s testimony in Morgoth’s Ring. It’s one of my top favorite scenes in Tolkien (you can probably guess the others!) and I have so many thoughts about it. (My main post about it is here though I do want to redo it)

something that struck me particularly is Maedhros’s infamous cry of blood and darkness! And then, “darkness and blood”!

Maedhros’s testimony is fairly composed given the extreme circumstances and these exclamations are both dramatic and somewhat jarring.

Maedhros has not truly known blood like this nor darkness like this before this time. He has never before seen bloodshed of elves and he has just found the body of his grandfather after a brutal murder. He has never been without the light of the trees and the stars. Even in their waning hours, there has never been true darkness.

I presume Maedhros has hunted before. I do not think he was entirely naive to the idea that living things are composed of blood and viscera and bone. Certainly we know his house was forging weapons.

He might even have seen blood in depictions of the life in Beleriand Finwë’s people lived through. But this is clearly different.

His cry of blood and darkness, darkness and blood, are not just abstract exclamations of the horrors he has just witnessed, they are also genuine reactions to what was not natural or familiar phenomena to him.

For all he has learned of Beleriand, of the days when the dark rider haunted and hunted the first elves, of all the warnings of his father and the foreboding he clearly felt when Fëanor left that day for Taniquetil, nothing could have prepared him for when this evil came at full force to his home and his visceral horror and trauma of it is so palpable even as he tries to fit it into coherent testimony

Anyways this is not as good or coherent as I would have hoped and I will revisit soon but yeah

[scenetocause]

can i ask about grid boy oscar please?

ofc. grid boy oscar my beloved.

basically: the fia brings gridpeople back as a concept but they're there all season and it's an excuse to put oscar in a skimpy leotard, as well as various situations like having to participate in an FIA litterpicking initiative and endorse synthetic fuel as part of the "grid for good". all of this happens in front of a particularly half-drowned cat lando who's desperately lonely and kind of falling apart. also logan is lando's teammate (bc if no oscar he would have won f3, etc) and they are quite fun to write together.

lando basically falls in love with his hot, slightly awkward grid boy and keeps giving oscar his coat or hoodie and things when he's cold or his umbrella when it's hot and oscar's a bit bemused about it but not arguing because he only took this job to try and make contacts with teams about an engineering internship. except there's this cute, weird driver who keeps asking him to hang out and keep him company at dinner and falling asleep while oscar's sitting on his bed and lando sometimes looks so pathetically needy. oscar has no idea what he could do to help him out but he wants to.

so lando sort of staggers through the season, with oscar as more and more of a support and they're both a little bit lost but helping each other enough and then perhaps they have a lovely little snog when they realise they're going to be separated and oh, maybe they won't be, then.

snippet under the cut

“What do you think about the grid girls - well, grid people?” Lando is not expecting Ted Kravitz to ambush him, Notebook mic in hand, while he was trying to re-do his shoelace under the only bit of rain cover near McLaren’s hospitality in Suzuka.

“Uh.” He blinks, water dripping in front of his eyes. “They’re uh, they’re very nice?”

Ted gives him a look like that’s not the right answer and Lando’s mouth panics before his brain has time to catch up. 

“Nice people, you know. They clearly have lots of passion for Formula 1 and they-” there’s rain running into his mouth, off his hood. Has to pause to swallow and shake his head like a dog. “They’re here, you know, because of that.”

“Oh, right.” Ted nods. “Yes, it’s good for them, isn’t it?”

There’s a note of concern in his voice that says he’s not totally sure what they just had was a coherent conversation but it’s the Notebook so. Whatever. Lando shakes himself again, water spraying, as Ted burbles away from him and he finally gets the sopping wet lace on his team trainers into something approaching a knot that might hold to the car park, at least.

Logan catches up to him with a papaya umbrella halfway there. “Dude. You’re soaked.”

Ok, yeah, Lando probably should have thought about an umbrella himself. He’s a bit out of sorts, lately - Jon used to handle all that sort of thing for him and he’s actually fine coping on his own and it’s ok for Jon to be home for a few races and Lando’s an adult, yeah? He’s leading the team, Logan doing well enough but the points gap between them clear, Lando getting asked about executive-level decisions in the group like he’s one of the real grown ups, lately. 

So he’s doing fine, alright? Just, like, a bit wet. On this particular occasion. Sometimes he’s also thirsty and can’t find his water bottle or hungry and hasn’t remembered there’s a wrap ready in the fridge but he’s basically alright. His back hurts more but he’s fine, it’s only a few races. He can do this.

“Where’s the - team car or whatever, anyway?” Now he’s under the umbrella it’s obvious quite how bad it was, water sluicing off the spokes like it’s out of a tap. 

“I dunno.” Logan sighs, heavily. “I just figured Zak’d probably have another reason to fire me if I let you drown.”

[bogusbyron]

ok more post-seine javert thoughts lets see if i can make this coherent .

ive always thought theres probably like, a complete physical shift that happens gradually - particularly in his demeanour anyway . like, as a policeman hes a VERY imposing figure, i like to imagine he was a very sleek and "clean" ?figure. if that makes sense. he's slinking around in the shadows, walking with a sense of purpose, like hes gliding with his big long greatcoat and probably noiselessly. the kind of guy you see in the street and think oh yeah, don't want to get in his way or he'll bite my head off and just keep walking .

anyway like, post-seine,... hes going soft. the shift probablt starts right after his recovery, i personally think he has to walk with a cane for a while after that, so his gait is definitely impeded by this ... but then yadda yadda events happen & theres a slow transition to him becoming a bit more... "plodding" ... like an old dog.

i unfortunately havent prepared any drawings to demonstrate what i mean (though don't worry I will provide them one day) but i can so vividly see him going from ramrod-straight, chin up posture with smooth strides to like. a much more casual stance, a bit hunched (and maybe with his hands suspended .. yknow, autistically.)

another detail ... i love the idea that javert has these big buggy eyes which he kind of hates, and hes always squinting to give him that sort of scornful look anyway, meaning once he's been. uh, "domesticated" hes probably got a bit of a kinder look about him . much softer . valjean loves it im sure

feel free to add on other thoughts...

[otomes-and-tears]

Wondering what your thoughts and opinions are on the rest of the jerk squad boys, especially Nate?

Know that asking me this was a mistake because I’m RABID for them. I’m FOAMING at the mouth and shaking just at being asked to ramble about my boys because I am plagued by thoughts of them that I’m absolutely going to unleash upon you now.

This is not going to be coherent at all. I apologise for that.

By the way— since I already talk about Shiloh way too much, he’s not going to have his little section here. If you want to see my rambles about him, please check my masterlist!

I’m probably going to talk about Jeremy separately because…. I actually haven’t finished his route. It’s the only one that’s left.

Since you asked about him first, Nate is one of my favourite boys. I have a special place in my heart for him because he kind of reminds me of my girlfriend, and I do think that his dynamic with JB is one of the most entertaining in the bunch. He’s always snapping back at her and it’s so fucking funny. Every time they’re out together I keep getting this mental image of JB being strapped in a baby leash with Nate trailing behind her like an exhausted parent.

Like Shiloh, he’s also a character that I think about a LOT, particularly about the way he handles (or does not handle) his emotions and his obsessive need to have control over everything around him.

I think it’s really telling that Nate continuously strives for perfection and frequently neglects his own emotional needs when he practically raised himself, admittedly saw the school as his home, and when we know for a fact that he was seen and treated as a mini-adult throughout his life.

Like, you cannot tell me he wasn’t praised endlessly as a child for being independent and self-sufficient and then when he grew older people were constantly exasperated that he was too independent and didn’t know when to ask for help when needed! Nate is probably endlessly confused as to why something that was touted as being such a good trait for a good portion of his life suddenly became a problem.

Anyways, I think it’s kind of tragic how he spent most of his life at that school and I legit teared up when they graduated. It’s also very sweet how despite being a perv and living to make him uncomfortable, JB is surprisingly respectful of his boundaries regarding physical touch and doesn’t push him to kiss or hug her. Yeah, she teases him about missing the perfect moment but she’s happy to let him decide when he’s ready to do all of that!

It’s also nice that she tries to support him, even if she isn’t exactly good at it. SHE’S TRYING HER BEST BC THEY LEGIT LIKE EACH OTHER EVEN IF THEY BOTH HAVE ISSUES!!

Regarding Everett… I didn’t expect to like his route as much as I did, but he has SO MUCH ANGST POTENTIAL.

Like, his whole relationship with Nate? The fact that he’s a momma’s boy?? HE WAS REJECTED BY PRAN In like, the WORST way possible??

It’s just, chef’s kiss. A whole lotta angst wrapped inside a tiny, hipster-shaped package. Pure perfection.

My only issue with his route is that the whole time, I felt like JB was getting in between him and Nate. This is my headcanon, but I feel like after high school, if JB and Everett don’t immediately have an explosive, dramatic breakup there are only two possible routes: either he leaves her for Nate or they add Nate into the mix.

I’m sorry, but no other alternatives compute for me, not after their conversation in the tunnel of love. That shit goes way past just a codependent friendship.

I think I’ve mentioned this once before but Bae is likely my second favorite jerksquad guy. I can’t really explain why his condescension is so funny to me, but it might be because my favorite parts of the game were the group meetings and Bae’s borderline paternalistic attitude towards the other characters (because he’s mAtURE and knows what’s best for them) and his sarcasm made for some really great dialogue and some of the funniest scenes in my opinion.

Just as a side note— I played xoxo blood droplets and Bae’s route made me realize how much potential he has to be a yandere in an au! And now that I’m thinking about this I NEED to write about it. Even if it’s just headcanons or something.

I love him in game. I’d probably throw hands with him three minutes into a conversation if he existed IRL. I sent my girlfriend screenshots of his sons of his scenes while I played and she said that I was a bit like him. It made me reevaluate my life LOL

Okay so, I’m going to be real with you: Pran is my least favorite of the boys. I’ll admit that when I played through his route last year I kept complaining about not having that much fun and not liking him a lot as a character. My view changed as I got to the end of the game:

Pran’s is still my least favorite route but he’s one of the most interesting guys to analyze.

In the end, even if it took me a bit to get into it, I still ended up enjoying it immensely anyway.

I think what made me dislike him at first was that, ironically, I think that Pran as a character works best in group scenes. He’s a contrarian and he’s very quiet most of the time, which makes his very occasional interjections some of the funniest moments in the meetings, but that’s also why I didn’t find his dates as fun LOL

I think that with the other characters I had a better time because how they played off JB during their dates, while with Pran it was funny to see JB trying so hard to engage with him or get a rise out of him just for him to barely react (and it makes the instances where she does manage to catch him off guard very rewarding) on the first few times, but it started to get old for me. There’s only so many times I can hear him say no, and that he doesn’t care before it gets annoying.

For me the highlight of his route was seeing Shiloh have a weird, one-sided beef with him. Shiloh pretends to like everyone but this is where he draws the line apparently 😭

Anyways, you might be wondering why I said he’s one of my favourites to analyse if I didn’t have much fun playing through his route. That’s mostly because of his backstory, which I genuinely find to be fascinating.

He’s basically a textbook example of avoidant attachment, which is due to the severe neglect he suffered as a child. Honestly, I could make a whole post about this alone if anyone is interested.

That coupled with having to adopt a mentality where nothing he ever did or said was ever right, because either his parents or grandparents would get upset, which led to him always being quiet or choosing the contrarian option, and you get a pretty fascinating character to think about. It’s interesting to examine his relationships through this lense: it makes complete sense that Pran has a difficult time engaging with JB and connecting to her emotional needs. The few relationships he has maintained exist out of necessity! And he tries so hard to push her away, in the same way he pushed everyone else away, but she just refuses to leave. Refuses to accept defeat. She’s fully determined to figure him out and make their weirdass relationship work and it’s something I admire JB for. That girl is a TROOPER.

[j2zara]

*tapping on your window* Hi I’m sitting in my car exhausted and about to drive home but I just wanted to let you know Ellie is. In my thoughts. This is a threat. And by that I mean. I am thinking so much about her and what it means to desperately want freedom and fear that if you get it you won’t know what to do next. The goal has been to fight until you die and you didn’t realize it until you got the chance to Live. It’s not that I don’t think she can’t be gentle bc she can be. She does her best to take care of Bluejay she’s kind to J3. It’s that I think when she’s. On her Own. And there’s no one to look after except for herself. And she’s forced to look inwards. She’s terrified there’s nothing there except the parts she desperately fights against becoming. Did she ever actually train her kindness for herself or does it always have to be given to someone else. Did she accidentally train herself for a purpose after all.

Anyways yeah so she’s in my thoughts and will be during my drive home that’s all hope you’re having a good night 💖

HIIII sorry it took me a sec to form coherent sentences and not to lump this in with your tags on my "Ellie was so afraid of becoming Jace she forgot to account for becoming ankarna" post but i also know (think?) that this was sent like RIGHT after that lol.

You've kinda articulated something i didn't really think about which is such a good point in that like. I think despite trying to push for personal autonomy and choice, ellie has sharpened herself into becoming very.... specific, due to her circumstances. She wants the freedom to be small and unextraordinary and messy but she can't afford that, i think she still has to be a tool of war in order to fight at all. idk if that makes any sense. She can't back out of her path—robbed of choice when choice is all she wanted, right? She needs power in order to get anything done and she doesn't particularly want it but it feels good when you have it right? At the very least when you have it nobody else can make you feel small. Maybe that's the Ankarna impulse. To learn about war to save yourself from doom even if it contorts you into something ugly and alienated from who you used to be.

But. What even are Ellie's impulses when the fight is gone. Who is she underneath that. Like. Yeah you're right in that its like the goal is survival for so long that its like who is she when she gets a chance to just LIVE? If you define yourself against something, is that really free will, is that really freedom from the determined path? Is it freedom to be an antithesis to a thesis when you're still defined in opposition to the thesis? Is it fair to have an identity defined by hardship and struggle and opposition, would that make happiness something unfamiliar, not yours? Is it fair to anyone that if you were to get better that would make you stop being you? Like. Something something gilear—there was something about the failure i could take in stride because within it i had some sense of identity or self. Except not a bit. You know what I mean? Or is it all change. Is it unfair even on my part that she had to be defined by like. Misery and the will to fight.

(And i think i do that b/c i like that she's unpalatable, i'm always so so so resistant to impulses to characterize her as secretly soft and maternal and nurturing. But is that fair to keep her all hard edges because maybe she deserves better)

She deserves. so much. She deserves a shitty, unfurnished apartment with a small portable fan and a mattress that's still the floor b/c she still hasn't gotten a bedframe. Maybe a lawn chair and an old tv. She has to start somewhere.

I don't know where the thought of the Ankarna-Ellie stuff came from—i think from working on LJ3Porter, i felt like. I think the reason why Ellie tries to put on a show about caring about other people is b/c she's scared that her real impulses are actually selfish. Power-hungry. Afraid that her objections are not because they've all been wronged, but that she's personally been denied something. That she's not just porter-coded, but she wants to transcend porter. Be even more powerful and frightening than him. Be the thing that He covets (even if he never really saw Ankarna). Jace wants to be at Porters side as equals, J2 wants to be beneath them, and J4 wants to be above even Porter. And. She does care about others its not just an act! But I think she's just. A lot like fig. But Fig's preoccupation is about being afraid of being so so so ontologically evil b/c she's infernal. But yeah. Dedicating themselves to others b/c they're afraid of interrogating themselves, asking themselves who they really are underneath it all.

[drdemonprince]

Heyyyy. I just had an unsettling thought. So I’ve been learning about the oxygen of amplification and thinking about whether I’ve been giving “free food” to bigots by paying too much attention to the wrong things.

You’ve written about being “a vault” being a benefit especially when it comes to health care, and lying to employers, and, basically, intentionally using masking to get ahead.

Over the past five or so years, I have tended to go in a different direction - being more vocal about my disabilities and the disabilities of others, in the hope that I’m being an advocate for awareness and acceptance. I’ve had a lot of people tell me I’m “brave” for behaving that way and it always confuses me, because it’s easier for me to be honest than it is for me to lie or hide the truth.

But I am reminded of being on a conference call with the California board of law examiners (the people who make the bar exam for California) at the start of the pandemic. I spoke on the call about how law school makes people (if I remember correctly) as much as three times more likely to be depressed between the time they enter and the time they leave. There’s additional context here that I could add but I’m not sure if it’s necessary.

Anyway, while I was speaking, one of the people on the board (at least, my colleagues and I were pretty sure it was) very loudly yelled at me to “FUCK OFF.”

I wonder if disabilities are something, unlike other categories of oppressed people, where the more evidence you provide that we are human and deserving of accommodations, the more bigots get pissed off and want to deny us those accommodations. Because they think our disability inherently makes us undeserving.

I think, because I’m in a position of privilege economically (and my family culture isn’t particularly tumultuous), I get into this moral headspace where I think, okay, maybe others have to lie to get ahead. But if, because of my unique set of circumstances, I don’t have to lie to get head, isn’t it my duty not to?

I actually think I wrote a paper about that in law school. Maybe I’ll try to dig that up and we what I had to say.

But now I’m wondering if I’m just making things worse by being so vocally honest. Giving ammo to judgmental people who will hold what I say against people who are not as fortunate as I am.

You’ve also spoken about how you’ve become less of an advocate and I wonder if this sort of thing factors in to that decision.

Yeah for me, it's about developing a greater sense of tactics.

Most people are not persuaded by data or objective information. Most people do not have coherent or consistent political ideologies, either (see Phillip Converse's groundbreaking work on nonattitudes -- most people, when asked about a political topic, will just make up an opinion on the spot based on what they've heard most recently, and that opinion will not remain consistent). There's a robust research literature attesting to this. I abandoned the field of political psychology because the research on fostering attitude change and open-mindedness is so dismal.

Instead, what most people find the most compelling is a combination of emotional appeals, social pressure, and their own material, economic self-interest.

What this means is that a great many people will not be moved by additional information on a topic, until it becomes economically costly or socially perilous for them not to rethink it, and even then, they might just dig in their heels if they've already incurred losses in order to justify the pain they've been in. It also means that if someone has an ignorant perspective and no desire to change it, well, you talking more isn't going to change their perspective, but they will try to shut you up so that it doesn't change anybody else's.

The liberal perspective on change is a highly individualistic one. Disabled people are supposed to share our stories, victims of sexual assault are supposed to name our abusers, fat people are supposed to just feel more positively about themselves, Black and brown people are supposed to spell out to us white people exactly what we should do to guarantee their liberation, but only in a very gentle tone, and everybody, everywhere, is on the hook for fixing the injustice of their own social position.

This is a perspective on change that employers, governments, and institutions benefit from us believing in, because it keeps us busy showing off our vulnerabilities and behaving as individuals, rather than pooling our power and demanding something better for all of us collectively.

And this individualistic approach is of course is never how change actually happens. The federal government didn't suddenly start unrestricting access to AIDS meds because some individual gays came forward and told very persuasive stories about their battles with the disease. ACT UP activists crowded federal offices and covered politicians' homes in giant condoms and marched AIDS victims' corpses down the street.

Sickle cell anemia did not become a subject of medical research because Black patients individually shared their stories of the disease. The Black Panthers created their own health clinics to test for the disease and educate the public about it, and they also gave out free childcare and food, and the federal government found this so threatening they began taking sickle cell seriously themselves so that more people wouldn't go running to a communist, anti-racist group.

The ADA didn't pass because disabled people made ourselves vulnerable, it passed because we made ourselves strong, clawing our way together up the statehouse steps and blocking traffic with wheelchairs during rush hour.

We've been propagandized by capitalist individualism and representation politics to believe the most empowering thing a marginalized person can do is stand solidly as a single person. But it's not true. In fact, some of the steps we take to broadcast our marginal status and tell our stories makes us more vulnerable in the end.

Many companies now encourage their disabled employees to come out and be proud of their status, for instance. I've given workshops at companies like that. At every single one, I've later heard from Autistic and ADHDer employees that the second they actually identified themselves publicly, it became a target on their back. They were scrutinized, denied accommodations, pushed out of the office, threatened with their boss calling 911 on them, forced to quit.

The real way to make a change happen is through organized, collective power, not through personal vulnerability, individual pride or sharing every last drop of energy that we have educating people who have a vested interest in not understanding our concerns. Winning the hearts and minds of the ones in control is not the answer. We must organize to take control.

I've done all kinds of activism all my life since I was fourteen years old, from phone banking to voter registration drives to jail support to writing my congress people and more, and much of it was a waste of my time. It was designed to waste my time, to convince me that by being a good little boy and playing within the system I would be freed, when really I needed to be joining forces with other people to dismantle it. That's the way forward, that's truly what I believe now.

[historicallyaccuratecheese]

So uh...that thing I said about my tma hyperfixation slipping recently? Well, I wasn't lying, but...holy shit, if it didn't come back quicker than I expected! As I'm sure many of you are aware, they recently announced a live performance happening in London surrounding Hill Top Road, and...I am so ridiculously excited for it. Now that I've booked my tickets, I am wholeheartedly back on the listening train and set on finishing it before October 30th next year.

As I have said in current my pinned post, I don't think I'll be continuing to write down all of my thoughts for every episode, both because I don't have the time or energy, and because I want to start using this blog for pleasure more and just post about whatever thing's on my mind. That being said, I finally got back into the podcast with MAG 87 (a bit of a weird new start, I know, but...whatever), and...I definitely have some things to say about it! So uh...yeah, read beneath the cut if you want to hear a bit of that! :)

But first, I'd just like to give some brief thoughts on MAG 85 and 86. Unfortunately it's been quite a while since I last listened to them, and I don't really have much motivation to go back and re-listen, since I'd like to keep things moving forward, so...a lot of my hyper-specific thoughts have evaded me. That being said...I thoroughly enjoyed both of them!

MAG 85...despite being extremely frustrating to form any coherent thoughts about, was an absolutely stellar episode! And I mean...being confusing is kind of the point so I can't complain that much. Like, it is entirely impossible for me to decipher this one, I can't tell if it means fuck all or is the most important thing ever, but...whatever, it was good! It's no secret at this point that I really like all of the stuff surrounding The Spiral (particularly a certain distorted door man...), so this was obviously a great time for me and was stellarly written. I did find quite a bit of intrigue in the post-statement though, namely Georgie....I mean, bless her heart, but holy shit she needs to re-think her dating life, and also what is seemingly the reveal of the name of one of Gertrude's late assistants. ...Eric Delano. At first I didn't think much of this name reveal, I mean, I assumed we'd learn more about him later, but the intial reveal doesn't tell us much. However...for reasons I'll explain later, I recently reffered back to the transcript for MAG 62, and...wouldn't you know it, Mary mentioned an Eric back there, one that both she and Gertrude are familiar with. I have no idea what his connection to the former could be if there really was one at all, but uh...based on the context he's brought up in, I'm guessing that his death had something to do with whichever one of ✨the horrors✨ he was devoted to (likely The Eye if he was indeed an archival assistant, but...then again Gertrude's alliegance to it as The Archivist can still be questioned so I'm not saying anything conclusive for the time being), and the "what's left of him" remark means his death was...probably a bit of a slow build. Anyways...all very interesting.

Now, as for MAG 86...holy fucking shit. As far as I can tell this one if quite infamous among the fandom, and...yeah, I can certainly sympathize! I really don't think I have much more to say about the statement that hasn't already been said, but just...wow. It's another example of a statement that doesn't really seem connected to the overarching plot, (I mean...there are some similarities between the monster in this episode and Maxwell Rayner, but I feel like I'm supposed to read into that more than the two almost certainly being extensions/servants of the same darkness power, plus if we assume that the Rayner body swapping theory is true, and that he only does so when the current one is starting to get really old, and specifically targets children for hosts, then like...why is he possessing an adult? Why was he outside of a body for so long? This is a really long section inside parentheses holy shit.) but it is just...so incredibly memorable and terrifying. The way that throughout the entire episode, it builds up its concept of a monster that is one with the darkness of night itself and only encroaches towards when you aren't conciously hiding from it underneath a blanket, but then at the very last minute completely subverts this idea by revealing that its patterns were just a farce meant to lure Benjamin into a false sense of security...it's genuinely haunting. And of course "The blanket never did anything" is a quote for the ages, like...just wow. (Also the way it left a noticeable stain on him reminded me of Void from Hollow Knight but that's off-topic).

Otherwise though, this episode had a lot of great non-statement content! While I am...still absolutely terrified by the prospect of Melanie working at the institute now, along with her blatant naivete and denial (although granted I'm thankful that she's much more open to investigating what the hell is happening than Season 1 Jon was), I really liked her reading the statement here. Lydia Nicholas does a great job making her read sound different from the statements Melanie gave herself, I mean...she genuinely sounds horrified by the end which like...same girl. I also love how she says "marker" at the beginning and end, it's such a small but charming detail that highlights how she's still used to her old way of looking into and documenting the paranormal really well. Also, somewhat off-topic but...WHY THE HELL DOES ROBIN PATTON SOUND SO MUCH LIKE GEORGIE'S SHITTY DATE?! Like...I was so prepared to learn that Georgie got mauled by a shadow monster upon listening to MAG 87 but...nope! Genuinely...what was up with that? Uh...regardless, we also have Tim who...I found to be VERY interesting in this episode. Firstly...the line "Who am I even sad for?" was just...an absolute gut punch. It's no secret that anything regarding the inherent tragedy of Sasha's character is enough to make me cry, but like...despite my occasional frustrations with him, it's stuff like this that makes me feel like...just, Tim Stoker, they could never make me hate you. But outside of that...something is absolutely up with him.

I just...find it so weird that he seems to almost instantly recognize what happened when Melanie starts talking about the two Sashas, like...how is it that HE seems so understanding of what's going on when she, the only person other than Elias who was able to see through the facade, really isn't? I mean, sure, there have been a few statements about The NotThem before, but only one of them actually had the archival assistants involved in any follow-up, and I mean...Tim is like the office diva who's just here for shits and giggles! ...That's an overexxageration, I'm sure he had his reasons for joining the institute that'll be revealed in the future, I'm just saying he's absolutely the most lax person here, albeit the way in which he's lax has changed over time. But like, why does he, of all people, remember this singular statement that he looked into over a year ago at this point in the timeline? I mean, I guess he did take a bit of an interest in the table when it was delivered to the institute, and was also the one to tell Jon about the delivery, but...Jon himself didn't even clock that the table and The NotThem were inherently connected to one another until after reading Lawrence Moore's statement and hearing about how Adelard Dekker bound the thing, so why should I expect Tim to be any better? Just...what is the deal here? On top of that, I found it really interesting how he just...stopped reading the statement and went on a rant at the beginning. As far as we can tell, statements seem to...draw people into them in a less than normal way, likely explaining why they portray the person who gave it while reading out loud, and why they seem so shocked and breathless when they stop (except for Jon but granted he's been doing this for a while whereas Martin and Melanie are new to this). The only other exceptions to this are Elias, who's method of reading "Alice Tonner's Statement" were...unique to say the least (and is also a practically confirmed to be claimed by The Eye like Jon while the archival assistants might just be touched so...there's also that), and Gertrude, who is...admittedly a bit of a mystery, but if we go with the assumption that as The Archivist she was also claimed by The Eye like Jon and probably all before her, and take some of her, um...fiery machinations into account, then...yeah, I feel confident in saying there was probably a bit of resistance to all of this spooky archive shit on her part.

So then, what's the deal with Tim? I mean, I once proposed the idea that "statement begins" is a sort of paranormal trigger phrase that draws people into the statements as an explanation for why Gertrude, a character who doesn't say that, seems so unfazed while and after reading a statement, but...this episode actually deconfirms that notion, because Melanie doesn't say it and still comes out uneasy. So...Tim not saying "statement begins" probably means very little. I mean...I guess it also felt like Melanie was getting drawn in over time so...maybe the fact that Tim didn't even start the actual story has something to do with it? Well like...my point is, this and the instant understanding of what happened to Sasha is enough to make me feel mighty suspicious of Tim. Like, I don't think he's some evil villain or anything but...I mean to say that he's shifted from "just some guy who got stuck in this whole mess" to "someone who might very well have a much bigger stake in the lore and narrative than I initially thought". And like...I know Season 2 Jon was an insane bastard who was not to be trusted but honestly...I also kind of think it's weird Tim came to the institute despite there being no history in paranormal studies on his record. So...what do I think's going on with him? Well...I think he very well might have some sort of connection to The Stranger. I don't get the sense that he's actually working for it or is in on The Unknowing or something, because even thought deceit and false appearances is kind of The Stranger's thing from what I can garner...Tim seems pretty genuine in his confusion. If not, then "Who am I even sad for?" would have significantly less weight to it. But...I just wonder if maybe he's been touched by it beyond just being decieved by The NotThem, and...maybe that has something to do with his past. It would explain why he recognized what was going on with Sasha after hearing Melanie's account (I am...very tempted to say that he lost someone to The NotThem before, but...I don't know how you'd expand on that given that the thing is currently rotting in an underground ditch. Sure, it's not actually dead and could theoretically bust out at any moment, but...eh...we'll see), and mabe also why he was able to seemingly tear himself away from the statement, since The Eye and The Stranger seem to be VERY naturally opposed, maybe more than they are to any other one of ✨the horrors✨, except for MAYBE the darkness because The Divine Host's insignia is literally a closed eye. Ultimately...these are just two relatively small details and I'm making a lot of assumptions based on them, but...I really feel like something interesting is about to happen with Tim. I mean, I really hope so, I've said before that I badly want to see more about his character get revealed so that I can form a more clear opinion on him, but...I'll just have to wait and see.

And then finally, something that really surprised me...Melanie and Jon meeting up! This was a delighful surprise, not only because I love their interactions with one another, but also because...it's really interesting plot-wise. Firstly, we got some more information on Melanie getting "sort of shot" (it's been months and I still have not stopped thinking about that). Apparently she was shot in the leg...by a ghost. Oh...homegirl is so haunted by one of ✨the horrors✨ and it is not even funny anymore. I don't really have much to say about this reveal, other than that...I'm very intrigued by it and hope she makes another statement of her own soon. Because uh...that sounds important. Anyways, I think the most interesting thing here is the deal made between the two of them. Melanie helping Jon out with gathering additional resources is very intriguing...kind of, I mean, I'm writing this post-MAG 87 so I already have a decent idea of what her doing this for him might do...and given the context I kind of hope she doesn't help him with what he's trying to do because I prefer my archivist raw and not cooked but...we'll get to that. But uh...otherwise, I am EXTREMELY interested by the fact that Jon has...supposedly told Melanie everything. Like...I desperately need to listen to MAG 88 right after I post this just so that I can hopefully see the fallout of that conversation at the institute. Like...will they learn about Sasha, Leitner, Elias, Gertrude, ✨THE FUCKING HORRORS✨?! Just...how do you reveal all of that to the new girl at the institue when meeting up at a café, and better yet, how do you expect her to share all of that information with her new coworkers she barely knows at a place where they are constantly being watched by a guy who probably doesn't want them knowing that?! And like...how the hell do you "start with Sasha?" Like, I have genuinely tried imagining that conversation between Jon and Melanie in my head multiple times (i swear I am a normal person), and...I just cannot make that work. Like Melanie, I'm sorry, but Magnus Institute Lore 101 requires that you start with the worm lady, okay? Just...wow...how is that going to go down? Anyways...those are my main thoughts on MAG 86! ....Yeah, the disparity in stuff to say between this and MAG 85 is kind of laughable. I swear I like it, I just...cannot write anything coherent about it. Regardless...onto the main event!

But before that....just one little thing I recently realized regarding the episode "Hide and Seek" namely its title. Not only does it refer to The NotThem chasing Jon, but...I just realized that The Stranger "hides" and The Eye "seeks", but in this episode, the seeker is a manifestation of The Stranger and the hider is a man claimed by The Eye. ...God damn that is really clever.

So...MAG 87. ...I would say I was surprised that definitely not Elias Bouchard managed to find out where Jon was hiding Gertrude's tapes but...I'm not. Because. Come on. Man...I just realized how unfortunate it is that right after Basira gave him that gold mine of information, he was forced to leave all of that knowledge behind. ...Yikes. Anyways, uh...I guess I should start with the statement here! Let's get the obvious out of the way. Sebastian Skinner you will always be famous. Put this man right next to Joshua Gillespie and Karolina Górka and let them form the most powerful polycule in human history because OH MY GOD I LOVE HIM. King and patron saint to all neurodivergents across the globe, he deserves all the riches he could ever desire. Yeah...despite all of the genuinely unnerving imagery and lore revelations in this episode, I have to say that Sebastian alone makes this one of the funniest episodes in the show by far. The man is LITERALLY asked to unclog human flesh from a sewage pipe in a creepy building in the woods by a very creepy woman who offers to FLENSE him...and he is just completely unfazed by and oblivious to the whole situation. I just...I can't get over that. In fact, he is so unbothered by it that Megan is GENUINELY APPALLED by it, but also so ammused that she calls over a servant of a completely different member of ✨the horrors✨ to LAUGH ABOUT IT, and then calls him back, not even to neccessarily kill him, but just to rub it in his face how actually scary things are. Just...absolute comedy gold, I love it. I will remember this man always, and it is actually kind of heartbreaking that he did not survive in the end if Gertrude's comments are anything to go off of (also yes hi Gertrude I missed you :D).

Outside of that though...yikes was this a freaky one. I mean, really only the second half if I'm being honest, the first part was still hilarious. Just like...so much disturbing imagery. The way he describes "Megan" burying her plastic hands into his skin, how Jude Perry just cruelly laughs as he cries out for help, and then a workshop filled with a bunch more of the sentient mannequins from MAG 83 skinning a bunch of severed heads, it's just...ugh! Same goes for Megan's face slipping away and Jude burning his shoulder right as it seemed like she was going to let him get away, just...yeah, very disturbing statement. Overall I really liked it, good mix of comedy and horror that builds the plot surrounding The Stranger, The Unknowing, and...surprisingly The Lightless Flame up really well. And speaking of which...

The best part of this episode for me is definitely all of the new information it gives us and the way it pushes the plot forward, both in the statement and the comments made by Gertrude and Jon. In general, I feel like Season 3 has done a great job at pushing the plot forward so far, even if it's felt a bit slow for me due to my hiatus. Firstly, I'd like to discuss what we learned about The Unknowing, because...wow. Now, Jon says that he believes The Unknowing is a "ritual" and...yeah, there probably is some truth to that. Now, I do still think that the destruction of The Magnus Institute probably plays into The Unknowing, both for reasons that I've discussed before, none of which have been debunked here as far as I'm concerned, but also because this episode confirms that while The Stranger is definitely the one leading the operation, other members of ✨the horrors✨ have the potential to get involved as well, namely what we now know is called "The Devastation". Amazing name by the way, I especially appreciate its existence because it was getting annoying having to differentiate between "Lightless Flame" as in the power and "Lightless Flame" as in the cult. Now, I know that Gertrude kind of suggests it is possible that Jude Perry (who uh...yeah! Really cool to get a new named freaky person here!) was just here for shits and giggles, and I mean...to an extent she probably was given Sebastian being a guy that exists, but let's assume that she actually is working with agents of The Stranger on The Unknowing. Now, as far as I can discern, there...really doesn't seem to be much that would make The Stranger and The Devastation natural allies when you look at things through a thematic lense. Like, compare this to The Vast, the isolation power and the darkness power, all of whom are allied via Daedalus, and you have clear thematic correlation. The Lukases, Fairchilds and Divine Host are working together because of the loneliness, size and darkness of space. Meanwhile, The Stranger and The Devastation don't have much in common...except for a common enemy. ...Or rather, seperate enemies that are allied with one another. Yeah so...The Stranger hates The Eye and The Devastation hates The Spider, and it does seem like The Eye and The Spider are allied in a number of places. Now, according to Gertrude, The Lightless Flame had...plans of their own that recently "went up in flames" (she actually said that by the way, I never thought I would hear her tell a joke), likely due to the loss of Agnes as we can tell she was definitely important to her given all of her "destiny" talk. Er, on that note, I guess I should mention that it's entirey possible that Jude Perry is the only member of The Lightless Flame allied with The Stranger, since all of the other named ones (Agnes, Diego and Arthur) are....very very dead, while she is implied to still be out there. Regardless, this makes me think that her and/or The Lightless Flame's involvement with The Unknowing could be a sort of...next best option. Like, maybe their plans involved getting rid of The Spider, but since Agnes' death has left them in disarray, their siding with the member of ✨the horrors✨ who seeks to take down The Spider's bestie. And...the best way to do that is probably through wrecking the institute. So uh...yeah, I definitely think that The Unknowing will involve destroying the institute, but...I have reason to suspect there's more too it than just that.

My reason is...well, Gertrude was actively trying to stop it. We know that she and Leitner tried to burn down the institute, or at least the archives, right before her death, so if The Unknowing only sought to do the same thing as her...why would she try to stop it? There has to be something else it seeks to achieve, and we have...at least an inkling of an idea of what that might be now. But um...on the note of Gertrude wanting to stop it, there's that! We now know for certain that Gertrude was not just fighting against The Eye from within the institute, but also The Stranger as well...which makes me think she was probably fighting against all of ✨the horrors✨, if the fact she was against two immortal enemies is anything to go off of. I also think this episode debunks the idea that she was secretly a servant of The Devastation due to her tendency to burn and explode, both because of what I just said but also because she talks about Jude Perry and The Lightless Flame in a way that makes her seem...on a different side from them. But like....that doesn't make her whole character any less bewildering to me! Hell, I think this makes her MORE bewildering! Not only do I not understand how she was able to even attempt doing so much damage to The Eye when she, as The Archivist, was presumably claimed by it, but like...how the hell was she going agaisnt EVEN MORE?! How is she just..able to fight against every side in this war between eldritch abominations, especially when her only known allies were three assistants who all died horribly, and an old librarian who while definitely powerful, is implied to have met her relatively late into her life? Even Michael, a character whose only discernable goals are to cause chaos, look hot while doing it and sit back and watch the world burn is at least aligned with The Spiral (albeit seemingly more by nature than by choice or experience). And like...better yet, WHY?! What motivated her to join The Magnus Institute and start fighting all of these things? My best guess is that she, like Jon, was motivated to join due to prior interest in the paranormal, and only learned that the institute was just as paranormal as everything it's been studying later on. The only discernable difference is that while Jon came in search of knowledge, I think she might have come in search of blood, but like...that's not a lot! Just...god. "Interesting" does not do this character justice. I love this arsonist grandma so dearly but like...I need her secrets now. And the funny thing is, I'm not even done talking about her yet! But...for now, back to The Unknowing.

So there's a few more details regarding it I want to point out. Firstly, it seems almost confirmed that while The Anglerfish and its minions, Breekon and Hope, Jude Perry and at least for a time, The NotThem, are all actively involved in The Unknowing, The Other Circus is the main organizer of the event, which makes sense as it does seem to be The Stranger's equivalent to the groups like The Lightless Flame and The Divine Host. (Mentioning that, I...kind of wonder if The Divine Host is involved here as well? I mean, not only are they seemingly aligned against The Eye, not only do they share some thematic similarities with agents of The Stranger, but...they've also been planning something for a while. There's Natalie Ennis' mention of a plan "three-hundred years in the making", which just so happened to have a part of it enacted...presumably not long before Gertrude's death. ...We'll get to the timeline shenanigans in a second. But uh...they also recently had their plans sold out to Section 31 by...who is most likely Elias, a guy who has expressed his desire to stop The Unkowing, albeit somewhat nonchalantly. Regardless, uh...we know that The Other Circus is in charge of this whole thing, but namely...somewhat by the name of "Orsinov". But...seemingly not Gregor Orsinov, the ringmaster from MAG 44, as Gertrude refers to this Orsinov with a "her" pronoun. Assuming that this is not a continuity error, then this likely means whoever is running The Other Circus is not the same person as Gregor, but rather a relative, spouse or even child. ...Preferabbly not that last one as I do not like the image of someone who is unlikely to be a normal earthling procreating. Alternatively, uh...congrats on the transition I guess? I know that sounds like a joke, but...it is worth noting that considering The Stranger is like...the shapeshifting one, a change in gender is not impossible here. Ultimately I'm fine if they go down that route, I just...don't hope they would frame that change in gender as an inherently scary thing? But...eh, I have faith in Jonny not to do that. Either way, there's some interesting directions they could take this in. Gertrude also mentions that Orsinov has...a world they wish to bring about. ...THAT doesn't sound good at all. I think this is pretty definitive proof that there's more to The Unknowing than I initially thought, and that it has much larger implications than just the destruction of the institute. I also assume this would be where the "ritual" aspect Jon alludes to would come into play, although I don't really know how to interpret that dialogue at the moment. Other than that...well, we know that all of that skin will somehow play into The Unknowing, and that there will also be "dancers" there who are wearing that skin. I assume these dancers are probably the various sentient(?) mannequins that agents of The Stranger have been producing, as "Megan" does seem to be wearing skin herself. This...also might explain what the deal with Sarah Baldwin and Daniel Rawlings is. I've thought since MAG 54 that the original humans who stumbled into Old Fishmarket Close were skinned by The Anglerfish, and that skin was given to monsters who serve it. Now it seems very likely that The Anglerfish's victims are actually "dancers" in their own right, so that's cool! I mean, it's terrifying, but it's cool! Uh...The Unknowing is seemingly fast approaching, which...yeah, definitely makes sense, I would be surprised if it didn't at least attempt to succeed this season honestly. And finally...this isn't from Gertrude's comments, but I didn't know where else to put it, but uh...we know that The Stranger also goes by the name "I Do Not Know You". ...I just thought that was neat.

Now, there's one last aspect of Gertrude's presence in this episode that I would like to discuss, that being...the timeline of her death. Unfortunately, my only real flaw with this episode is that it has quite a few, not plot-collapsing at all, but still pretty frustrating continuity errors that muddle the timeline a bit. ...Or does it? Because upon further thinking, I actually realized, what might seem like an impossible timeline...could actually be a clue. ...Yes, I am fully aware I probably sound a little crazy just by saying that. But first of all...well yeah I am crazy, we've established this before. But secondly, if it does turn out that these are just continuity errors...honestly like...whatever. I would prefer it if they weren't but I won't be super upset if Jonny made some minor mistakes, especially since he otherwise does a remarkably good job at keeping track of a timeline that is often not delivered to us in a chronological order. Now, there is one detail that I really can't rationalize being anything other than a mistake, and that is Jon saying that this tape was recorded a year or so before Gertrude's death. That is just...blatantly not true, as this statement was recorded in April of 2015, and Jon had been The Archivist for a quite a while by that point. Ultimately though, this doesn't really matter, especially since MAG 33 kind of established than any continuity error said by Jon regarding a statement can be explained by him being a little bit dumb on occasion. And by a little bit dumb I mean he smashed the table I'M STILL NOT OVER IT I KNOW YOU HAVE CHILDHOOD TRAUMA ABOUT SPIDERS BUT SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK?! But otherwise...well, it's a bit complicated. This isn't the first time that we've gotten conflicting statements regarding Gertrude's death. In MAG 25, we're told that she died in May 2015 on the same day screams were heard from Hither Green Chapel, but in MAG 40, Elias tells her she died, or...at least went missing, in March. This means that this statement could either take place a month before...or a month after she died, and...I actually think either one could work. Stay with me. Let's start with the easiest assumption, that being that she died in May.

If this is the case...well, there's really not much to say. This statement was recorded a month before she died, end of story. As for Elias, well...he was the man who killed her, and we can say without a shadow of a doubt that he lied in the statement he gave after the Prentiss incident. The only problem is...I don't know why he would lie about the date of her death specifically as that seems kind of disadvantageous, but...I can just chock that up to him being a silly guy who does what he wants. Alternatively, you could assume that Gertrude went MISSING in March, but actually died in May, but...that wouldn't really explain the blood in the archives (although it's entirely possible that detail was another lie), and on top of that, wouldn't explain why Jon had her date of death recorded as being in May when she was only confirmed dead when Martin found her body in the tunnels in July of 2016. So...yeah, it's not perfect, but there are workarounds to this line of thinking. But...what if we take an alternative line of thinking, one that is less likely but a bit more fun? What if we assume that this statement was recorded a month...BEFORE she died?

You see, I've just been thinking...there has to be...SOMETHING more to Gertrude's death, right? Like, sure, it made sense for the whodunnit mystery to be concluded in Season 2, but like...her death is such an important catalyst in the story, and I find it way too hard to believe that it's as simple as "Elias shot her because she was trying to burn down the archives". (Oh uh...and this doesn't really connect to what I about to put forward, but I have to wonder...why did it take Elias so long to kill her? Like, she was working against The Eye at least since the late nineties, and he should've known about this because...well, you know. Unless gaining all-knowing powers from his patron took over 20 years, but like...I find that unlikely. ...Why did he wait?) I just...feel like there's more too it. And uh...you know how I mentioned I went back to the transcript for MAG 62? Yeah...you might see where I'm going with this. I went back there because in this episode, Jon mentions the page of the skin book that Gertrude got from Mary. Now, he very quickly disregards this as being at all connected to The Stranger (while also commenting on how confusing this all is, which....you and me both buddy), and I have to agree with this. While I am implored to raise an eyebrow at how all of the human heads that were being harvested for skin in the workshop here were hung on the same stuff used for Mary's book, we know that the book connects to a seperate member of ✨the horrors✨ called "The End", and while ✨the horrors✨ do collaborate with one another, we've never seen a Leitner that's connected to more than one of them, the same principle applying to artifacts and claimed people. But...I don't think the book being mentioned here has to be a throwaway line. If you recall MAG 62, Mary gave Gertrude a page of her book. Now, the page already had writing on it, seemingly implying that someone's spirit had already been bound to it. But...then I remembered that Mary seemingly bound herself to the book...and that's when I had an idea. For a long time, I've wondered how Mary could've possibly done what she did, but then I realized...is it possible that she removed chunks of her skin before dying, did all the spooky writing and incantations, and THEN overdosed on painkillers, which ultimately resulted in her being bound to the book? Because if that's the case...what if the same happened with Gertrude? Because like...Gertrude is shown to be familiar with the smell of burning skin in MAG 62, so like...what if she had pieces of her skin removed at some point, and then Mary used those pieces to create the page that she would then give her later on? Then, if we assume Elias killed her in March, this resulted in Gertrude being bound to the page as a ghost, therefore explaining how this statement was recorded after her death? This would also explain her mysterious remarks about needing to recover and being unable to stand, because she would be adjusting to a new state of being! (Side note, can I just say that I thought Gertrude sounded like...noticeably more aged here? I don't know if that's just a result of me not having tuned in for a while but if it isn't...great job Sue Sims, you really sold it well :). ) Now...all of that said, how likely is this?

Honestly not very, this is kind of crack. Plus, there are a number of very easy alternate explanations to these mysteries. The remark about burning skin could come from an earlier encounter with The Stranger or The Devestation, and honestly...it is entirely possible that Mary got help from Gerard when being bound to the book, because not only was he suspected of killing her, indicating he might have been at the scene, but all of the statements where he seems to be on bad terms with her take place after her death in 2008, so...yeah. It's very likely that the death in May thing is the case, or that...all of this is just one big jumble of continuity errors, which is honestly fine! But...eh, I like this idea quite a lot. Alternatively, I could argue that she's a ghost similar to the Archivist seen in MAG 53 but...that's pure speculation. Well, whatever the case, I just hope that there's a bit more to Gertrude's death and the circumstances surrounding it then what we've been given so far, because...I think there's a lot of untapped potential there.

Well...to wrap all of this up, I'd like to discuss some of the stuff Jon said. Firstly, he mentioned how weird it is that Gertrude was recording tapes all the way up until she died, along with how strange it is that only a small handful of statements were actually transferred, at least...as far as we're aware. I...honestly have to agree with this, but I think I have a decent enough idea as to what the deal is here, but it's not perfect. For a good while now, I've assumed that Gertrude intentionally kept the statements "disorganized", so that her successor would get all of the information they need as quickly as possible, and I think a similar thing might be going on with the tapes. All of them cover pretty important stuff, MAG 53 giving insight into The Eye and the institute, MAG 62 showing us some pretty important events, MAG 44 and 87 both tie back to The Stranger and The Unknowing, and MAG 77...uh...well look, there's probably no way she could've known that The NotThem would infiltrate the institute, especially all those years ago, but the tape does give us a clue to the existence of a statement from the ever-mysterious Adelard Dekker, and given how that statement has gone missing for unknown reasons...I think it's probably pretty important? Granted this theory isn't perfect, I mean, why would she be recording a statement that gives information regarding The Other Circus when she says in this very episode that she's surprised The Unknowing is something...like...actually worth worrying about in the present? And why would all of these tapes be buried alongside her in the tunnels...unless Elias put them there...which...ok that actually checks out. Anyways, this line of thinking isn't perfect but...I think something along these lines makes sense. The second point of intrigue to me is uh...Jon's plans. Which...oh boy.

*DRUMROLL PLEASE*....

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, BOYS AND GIRLS, HORRORS AND MICHAELS, GIVE IT UP FOR ANOTHER ROUND OF "NEW PLOT POINTS IN THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES THAT ARE REALLY EXCITING FROM A STORY PERSEPCTIVE BUT TERRIFYING WHEN YOU CONSIDER HOW MUCH IT'S GOING TO SUCK FOR ONE OR MORE OF THE CHARACTERS!!!" 🎉 🎉 🎉 🎉 🎉 🎉 🎉

So...Jon...ever-knowledgable and sane...has decided that it's a great idea to try and track down Jude Perry. You know, that lady who sets people on fire? I just...look, Melanie, if you know what's good for you, which I know yo-...actually nevermind you went to India fully aware that you might get murdered by ghosts, which you almost did, so...no. But if you have gained the ability to know what's good for you, which I hope you do, then you will NOT help the smelly man track down the professional arsonist. Like...dude?! Hello?! Like, I know the situation is dire, I know The Unknowing is a rapidly approaching threat, and I know that after BPM and the flashbacks to your childhood trauma you've accepted that there's really no way out of this mess, but like...damn, this is not a good idea! Not even Season 2 Jon would do this! Don't get me wrong...I think this is super exciting, not only because I have a particular bias towards the stuff involving The Lightless Flame (...mostly Agnes but shhhhhh), but because...this is EXACTLY what I wanted Season 3 to do. Finally getting out there in the world and actively trying to find all of the shit from the statements. It is...extremely dangerous and terrifying, but...also very exciting. I don't want to get my hopes up too high, after all it is entirely possible that Jude Perry has moved far out of Havering, or has even died at this point, but...man, if we could actually HEAR a member of The Lightless Flame speak...I might actually lose my god damn mind. Well...I'll just have to wait and see.

And finally, the ending of this episode. ...Yeah, that's genuinely terrifying! Hearing the calliope music slowly creep in, and then getting Jon's genuinely horrified reaction...it's so unlike what I'm used to so far, it comes at such an unexpected moment...and my jaw was genuinely left wide-open at it. That's uh...that's not good. Jon...I think you have a bit more to worry about than just police now. Oh, and just because I haven't really mentioned it, um...yeah I absolutely adore Georgie! She kind of has a very similar appeal to that of Basira for me, being a really down to earth and real-feeling character in a world filled with people who, while I absolutely adore them, are objectively freaks of nature. And while I do still think I like Basira a tad bit more, if only because I just feel like I know her better, I actually think Georgie is a better example of this trait! She's just a really friendly and supportive friend to Jon who has...unfortunately gotten a bit wrapped up in this mess, and...yeah, what can I say, I find her very endearing and hope to learn more about her and her past with Jon. I will say, I do find it a tad bit frustrating that Jon is pushing her away and refusing to get help from her, especially when he kind of resolved to stop doing that at the beginning of the season, and ESPECIALLY because she is the exact kind of person he needs at the moment, but granted, I get the sense he's doing this more out of care for her than suspiscion or malice, and I mean...yeah, I'd also be hesitant to tell her...all of that. And also...holy shit the statements really ARE an addiction allegory! Jesus Christ...Jon, what the hell is going on with you right now?

Well uh...yeah, that's all I really have to say! I was definitely surprised by how much I managed to write here, and I'm very happy that my tma fixation has seemingly circled back around earlier than I expected! I hope you enjoyed reading this and that this new kind of format worked well, this was certainly much less of an investment of time and energy for me at least, and I had a good time with it! Like I said, I'm not going to be dead set on writing about every detail of every statement anymore, and lengths of posts I do write will probably vary either do to time or how much I even have to say, but...this should be a decent example of the kind of format I'm going for! Anyways, I'm...probably not going to listen to MAG 88 just yet because it's late, so I'll save that for tomorrow morning! Anyways, it's nice to be back on tma, and thank you very much for reading all this! :)

[tedlyanderson]

Reading posts from someone I follow on why image generators are a legitimate form of art and their use should be normalized, and it's refreshing to encounter some pro-generative-AI arguments more nuanced than "I don't want to pay artists." I still think they're fundamentally wrong, but it's been extremely helpful, because it's forced me to examine my own thoughts on the matter and determine why, exactly, I believe what I do. Something something mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone, idk, I didn't watch Thame of Groans.

(Of course I'm not going to mention the person by name or tag them or anything, and for that matter I'd appreciate it if people didn't reblog this. I'm not writing this to get into an argument; I'm mostly just consolidating my own thoughts into a semi-coherent form.)

There are a number of arguments that have been leveled against generative AI, some of which I find more persuasive than others. The energy usage and financial waste, for instance, are significant, but not relevant in the case of one person using a locally hosted image generator and not selling the results. The question of the quality of the work is similarly unimportant to the bigger question; AI-generated images are going to continue to get better-looking as the technology improves, and "good" versus "bad" art is impossible to define in a meaningful way for the purposes of this argument.

The copyright argument is much more important, particularly to me as a creator. Another user pointed out that copyright cases against LLMs (on behalf of creators whose works were included in the learning sets) could have a potentially deleterious effect on fair use and transformative artworks. I'm not hooked into the legal scholarship on this, so I can't respond to that point. I do think it's somewhat short-sighted of that user to say "AI is a tool like any other, its use can be good or evil, our true enemy is capitalism," and then turn around and attack copyright as some kind of uniquely evil legal technology, rather than a technology that can also be used for good (making sure artists are recognized and paid for their work) or evil (large corporations shutting down parodies). And yeah, the revolution would fix all this, but how long do we have to wait for that? And what can we do in the meantime?

Anyway, the one argument that made me genuinely examine my own beliefs was "what is art anyway, and can you define it in a way that does not disqualify large swaths of what is widely recognized as human creative work and also excludes generative AI?" Because that's the meat of all this—not whether image generators suck up too much energy (because it's not about the specifics of the technology, which will change and improve over time, just as new types of paint do not fundamentally alter the nature of painting) nor copyright (which is a whole other legal mess), but whether we can call this "art" at all. For that, you need a definition, and that's the sticking point.

The original poster named a couple common ways of defining art/not-art (the "smell test," i.e. I Know It When I See It, and the "quality test," i.e. Can You Hang It In A Museum, which are largely the same but from different perspectives), and points out that they and other definitions would exclude quite a lot of human endeavors that most people would describe as art (graffiti, calligraphy) as well as fields that are more difficult to define but could constitute art (mathematics, programming).

(They also ascribed to anyone who attempted to make such a definition the motivation of not just gatekeeping but unadulterated fascism, which is an argument I think holds no water and wins them no friends, but. Let's just leave the paranoia aside and concentrate on the argument itself.)

So what is art? How do we define it, and why do I fundamentally disagree that anything that comes out of an image generator can be considered "art"?

I don't think this is sufficient for a full definition, but after talking it over with friends, I think, in part, art requires a perspective, which is to say that it must be the result of individual human decisions about non-trivial components. Another way to state this would be that the artist (if indeed they are an artist) must be able to make conscious choices about the work that are beyond what is strictly necessary for its completion.

Should the background be blue or green? Would this sentence be improved by an adjective? How large of a flourish should this letter have? What if I carve the gargoyle's snarl more deeply? What color should the hair of my halfling rogue be? These choices are indicative of a product that would be widely recognized as belonging to the category of "art."

Obviously, there are still gray areas. Certain fields have both a creator and a performer; can we say that one is "more of" an artist than the other? What about commissioned works? What if the artist is creating something within a strict limit or form—for instance, the 14-line sonnet, or a novel without the letter 'e'? What about Duchamp's Fountain, or John Cage's "4'33""? What about works with a large number of creators, such as films or collaborative writings? What about works where there is a level of interactivity with the audience, such as video games or certain theater pieces? Those and other questions are certainly open to debate, and should be debated! But to my mind, they do not challenge the fundamental principle, which is that the artist is an artist because they exercise choice in the process of creation.

Thus, by my (admittedly partial and underdeveloped) definition, I don't regard AI-generated images as art. The algorithm does not choose in a meaningful way; it merely calculates the most statistically likely next word/pixel/frame/etc. based on the database and the prompt with which is has been provided. (If you want to claim that this constitutes a choice, please submit a 5,000-word essay on whether free will exists and how we could possibly know if it does.) The remixer samples a specific beat; the collage artist cuts a particular image out of a magazine; the parodist deliberately draws in a specific way. The computer computes. It uses a mathematical operation—which, by definition, is repeatable and will produce the exact same outputs, given the same inputs. (Yes, the results have elements of randomization. We all know that true randomness is impossible for a computer, so they produce quasi-random numbers using things like the system time and so forth. I don't want to split hairs on this specific point. You get what I'm gesturing to. Don't look at the finger, look at the moon.) A prompt limits the database to certain specific sets, which the algorithm assembles according to its internal logic. The input is disconnected from the outputs; anyone could input the same prompt and receive the same art. (Even The Policeman's Beard is Half Constructed required an editor.) Generative AI is no more "creating" a piece of visual art than turning a radio dial to a specific station is "composing" the music that plays. The purely mathematical nature of its generative process makes it no qualitatively different from assembling a Lego set according to the directions.

The first obvious challenge to my partial definition is to say that it just restates the premise and shifts the goalposts: art is something that must be made by a person, and thus cannot be made by a computer. Which is fair! This is a verbalization of a belief I've always held about art, and which caused me to immediately (instinctively, unthinkingly) reject the idea that an AI-generated image could be "art." That's how I got into this discursive mess! It's why my brain recoiled when I heard someone call these images "art"!

But it also helps me understand why I instinctively categorize other acts and works as either "art" or "not art." A photograph was taken by a person at a specific time and a specific place, its elements arranged and its moment chosen according to the photographer's visual logic; it is therefore art. A hamburger put together by an underpaid worker at McDonald's is not art; a recipe by a chef that combines existing ingredients in a new way or using a new method is; a meal created by a person who tweaked a recipe might be. (That one might actually run counter to current copyright law, I'm not sure.) A mechanism assembled by a worker on an assembly line, identical in every way to another mechanism made by a different worker, is not art, because there was no choice on the part of the worker. (Could it be art because the designer of the mechanism exercised choice? Depends on the nature of the mechanism and the industry! Venmo me $20 for a debate.) A dance choreographed to produce a specific visual effect is art; an exercise designed to stretch certain muscles in the most efficient and painless way is not art. And so forth.

AI-generated images are not art. (They are also not a medium, which I saw several other commentators claim; an image is an image, regardless of where it comes from. I'm already knee-deep in linguistic debate, let's not cloud the matter any further.) Generative AI is a tool, and there are and can be creative and ethical uses for it! But to claim that it is capable of making art is giving agency to a thing that cannot have it, and claiming that someone who writes "sexy anime girl" in a prompt field is an artist is to expand the meaning of that word to the point of nonsense.

More than one person has brought up Jorge Luis Borges' "The Library of Babel" when talking about the potential of AI-generated works. It's got some bearing on the question, sure, but I feel like the more apropos point of comparison is his story "Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote." In that work, Pierre Menard is a friend of the author's who is attempting to become the author of Don Quixote—not in the sense that he is trying to plagiarize the work, or time-travel and replace Cervantes in history, but that he is trying to make himself into a version of himself that could have independently written Don Quixote. It's partly a critique of elements of literary criticism, in that Quixote would become a far more interesting book (according to the narrator) if it had been written by a 20th-century Frenchman rather than a 17th-century Spaniard (it was written some 28 years before Barthes' "The Death of the Author," for context). But in the context of the current argument of generative AI, and specifically to my fumbling attempts to defining what is and is not art, it's an illustrative example of what I think it all boils down to: any work of art is the work of an artist, who inevitably brings to the work perspective/knowledge/experience/an individual understanding of the world. Ascribing any such perspective to an algorithm is just fetishism. (And not the kind that generative AI is most often used for.)

Or, to put this way more succinctly and directly:

[chiangyorange]

heyy hello its me again

your recent wild and wars drawing was like the best meal ever, so OBVIOUSLY I am inclined to give my compliments to the chef /lh

im so happy to see people go bat shit insane about them because they are crazy and deserve to have a spotlight, they are everything and ANYTHING!!!!!!!! they are 2 dudes that just do it so well I loveee seeing content of them I thrive off of it like I haven't eaten in a week type stuff

anyways I apologize if none of this makes sense to you, I'm just trying to be cringe and convey my cringy thoughts and feelings about your art with them because they truly mean a lot to me and to you as I've seen!!!! thank you for creating such jawdropping masterpieces! I always look forward to whatever you end up making next!!!! much love to you <3

they make me feel like this 98% of the time

the other 2% is like this

I LOOOOOOVE WARS N WILD SO MUCH i have so many FEELINGS about them as a duo and none of the coherency to explain myself its SO silly.

you know those posts about fairies being particularly drawn to wars???? yeah i fuckin feel it alright-- it was PURELY coincidental that my sona is a fairy. btw. I DIDNT DO THIS ON PURPOSE