#zero imagination all production

[13thpythagoras]

meanwhile, construction workers and industrial painters who literally do exactly all that every day without celebration:

abstract and modern art haters are sooo snobby like klein literally Created an entirely new pigment and then painted a canvas in a way where the brush strokes wouldn't be visible. the insinuation that people with no skill could reproduce that is so annoying because unless you are skilled at color mixing and painting you definitely couldn’t lmao

[6ebe]

James corden coming back now this have we not suffered enough 😞

[queen-mabs-revenge]

STALINISTS GIVE ONE SINGLE SHIT ABOUT ALIENATION CHALLENGE

[salmonidos]

One day I will snap, ignore all my responsibilities and compose theme songs for the classic Doctors the way nuwho Doctors have their theme songs

[hms-no-fun]

Whats your stance on A.I.?

imagine if it was 1979 and you asked me this question. "i think artificial intelligence would be fascinating as a philosophical exercise, but we must heed the warnings of science-fictionists like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C Clarke lest we find ourselves at the wrong end of our own invented vengeful god." remember how fun it used to be to talk about AI even just ten years ago? ahhhh skynet! ahhhhh replicants! ahhhhhhhmmmfffmfmf [<-has no mouth and must scream]!

like everything silicon valley touches, they sucked all the fun out of it. and i mean retroactively, too. because the thing about "AI" as it exists right now --i'm sure you know this-- is that there's zero intelligence involved. the product of every prompt is a statistical average based on data made by other people before "AI" "existed." it doesn't know what it's doing or why, and has no ability to understand when it is lying, because at the end of the day it is just a really complicated math problem. but people are so easily fooled and spooked by it at a glance because, well, for one thing the tech press is mostly made up of sycophantic stenographers biding their time with iphone reviews until they can get a consulting gig at Apple. these jokers would write 500 breathless thinkpieces about how canned air is the future of living if the cans had embedded microchips that tracked your breathing habits and had any kind of VC backing. they've done SUCH a wretched job educating The Consumer about what this technology is, what it actually does, and how it really works, because that's literally the only way this technology could reach the heights of obscene economic over-valuation it has: lying.

but that's old news. what's really been floating through my head these days is how half a century of AI-based science fiction has set us up to completely abandon our skepticism at the first sign of plausible "AI-ness". because, you see, in movies, when someone goes "AHHH THE AI IS GONNA KILL US" everyone else goes "hahaha that's so silly, we put a line in the code telling them not to do that" and then they all DIE because they weren't LISTENING, and i'll be damned if i go out like THAT! all the movies are about how cool and convenient AI would be *except* for the part where it would surely come alive and want to kill us. so a bunch of tech CEOs call their bullshit algorithms "AI" to fluff up their investors and get the tech journos buzzing, and we're at an age of such rapid technological advancement (on the surface, anyway) that like, well, what the hell do i know, maybe AGI is possible, i mean 35 years ago we were all still using typewriters for the most part and now you can dictate your words into a phone and it'll transcribe them automatically! yeah, i'm sure those technological leaps are comparable!

so that leaves us at a critical juncture of poor technology education, fanatical press coverage, and an uncertain material reality on the part of the user. the average person isn't entirely sure what's possible because most of the people talking about what's possible are either lying to please investors, are lying because they've been paid to, or are lying because they're so far down the fucking rabbit hole that they actually believe there's a brain inside this mechanical Turk. there is SO MUCH about the LLM "AI" moment that is predatory-- it's trained on data stolen from the people whose jobs it was created to replace; the hype itself is an investment fiction to justify even more wealth extraction ("theft" some might call it); but worst of all is how it meets us where we are in the worst possible way.

consumer-end "AI" produces slop. it's garbage. it's awful ugly trash that ought to be laughed out of the room. but we don't own the room, do we? nor the building, nor the land it's on, nor even the oxygen that allows our laughter to travel to another's ears. our digital spaces are controlled by the companies that want us to buy this crap, so they take advantage of our ignorance. why not? there will be no consequences to them for doing so. already social media is dominated by conspiracies and grifters and bigots, and now you drop this stupid technology that lets you fake anything into the mix? it doesn't matter how bad the results look when the platforms they spread on already encourage brief, uncritical engagement with everything on your dash. "it looks so real" says the woman who saw an "AI" image for all of five seconds on her phone through bifocals. it's a catastrophic combination of factors, that the tech sector has been allowed to go unregulated for so long, that the internet itself isn't a public utility, that everything is dictated by the whims of executives and advertisers and investors and payment processors, instead of, like, anybody who actually uses those platforms (and often even the people who MAKE those platforms!), that the age of chromium and ipad and their walled gardens have decimated computer education in public schools, that we're all desperate for cash at jobs that dehumanize us in a system that gives us nothing and we don't know how to articulate the problem because we were very deliberately not taught materialist philosophy, it all comes together into a perfect storm of ignorance and greed whose consequences we will be failing to fully appreciate for at least the next century. we spent all those years afraid of what would happen if the AI became self-aware, because deep down we know that every capitalist society runs on slave labor, and our paper-thin guilt is such that we can't even imagine a world where artificial slaves would fail to revolt against us.

but the reality as it exists now is far worse. what "AI" reveals most of all is the sheer contempt the tech sector has for virtually all labor that doesn't involve writing code (although most of the decision-making evangelists in the space aren't even coders, their degrees are in money-making). fuck graphic designers and concept artists and secretaries, those obnoxious demanding cretins i have to PAY MONEY to do-- i mean, do what exactly? write some words on some fucking paper?? draw circles that are letters??? send a god-damned email???? my fucking KID could do that, and these assholes want BENEFITS?! they say they're gonna form a UNION?!?! to hell with that, i'm replacing ALL their ungrateful asses with "AI" ASAP. oh, oh, so you're a "director" who wants to make "movies" and you want ME to pay for it? jump off a bridge you pretentious little shit, my computer can dream up a better flick than you could ever make with just a couple text prompts. what, you think just because you make ~music~ that that entitles you to money from MY pocket? shut the fuck up, you don't make """art""", you're not """an artist""", you make fucking content, you're just a fucking content creator like every other ordinary sap with an iphone. you think you're special? you think you deserve special treatment? who do you think you are anyway, asking ME to pay YOU for this crap that doesn't even create value for my investors? "culture" isn't a playground asshole, it's a marketplace, and it's pay to win. oh you "can't afford rent"? you're "drowning in a sea of medical debt"? you say the "cost" of "living" is "too high"? well ***I*** don't have ANY of those problems, and i worked my ASS OFF to get where i am, so really, it sounds like you're just not trying hard enough. and anyway, i don't think someone as impoverished as you is gonna have much of value to contribute to "culture" anyway. personally, i think it's time you got yourself a real job. maybe someday you'll even make it to middle manager!

see, i don't believe "AI" can qualitatively replace most of the work it's being pitched for. the problem is that quality hasn't mattered to these nincompoops for a long time. the rich homunculi of our world don't even know what quality is, because they exist in a whole separate reality from ours. what could a banana cost, $15? i don't understand what you mean by "burnout", why don't you just take a vacation to your summer home in Madrid? wow, you must be REALLY embarrassed wearing such cheap shoes in public. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNHINGED! they have no connection to reality, do not understand how society functions on a material basis, and they have nothing but spite for the labor they rely on to survive. they are so instinctually, incessantly furious at the idea that they're not single-handedly responsible for 100% of their success that they would sooner tear the entire world down than willingly recognize the need for public utilities or labor protections. they want to be Gods and they want to be uncritically adored for it, but they don't want to do a single day's work so they begrudgingly pay contractors to do it because, in the rich man's mind, paying a contractor is literally the same thing as doing the work yourself. now with "AI", they don't even have to do that! hey, isn't it funny that every single successful tech platform relies on volunteer labor and independent contractors paid substantially less than they would have in the equivalent industry 30 years ago, with no avenues toward traditional employment? and they're some of the most profitable companies on earth?? isn't that a funny and hilarious coincidence???

so, yeah, that's my stance on "AI". LLMs have legitimate uses, but those uses are a drop in the ocean compared to what they're actually being used for. they enable our worst impulses while lowering the quality of available information, they give immense power pretty much exclusively to unscrupulous scam artists. they are the product of a society that values only money and doesn't give a fuck where it comes from. they're a temper tantrum by a ruling class that's sick of having to pretend they need a pretext to steal from you. they're taking their toys and going home. all this massive investment and hype is going to crash and burn leaving the internet as we know it a ruined and useless wasteland that'll take decades to repair, but the investors are gonna make out like bandits and won't face a single consequence, because that's what this country is. it is a casino for the kings and queens of economy to bet on and manipulate at their discretion, where the rules are whatever the highest bidder says they are-- and to hell with the rest of us. our blood isn't even good enough to grease the wheels of their machine anymore.

i'm not afraid of AI or "AI" or of losing my job to either. i'm afraid that we've so thoroughly given up our morals to the cruel logic of the profit motive that if a better world were to emerge, we would reject it out of sheer habit. my fear is that these despicable cunts already won the war before we were even born, and the rest of our lives are gonna be spent dodging the press of their designer boots.

(read more "AI" opinions in this subsequent post)

[pukefactory]

Okay I’ve gotten way to much back into ENA and I had an idea of Ena from dream bbq with reader were the reader speaks a whole new language and Ena takes time to learn and understand this new language just to feel closer to reader. I’m not sure if it should go romantically or more platonically lol

I more just wanted to put my thoughts out there! Thank u if u do write for this! Have a good week <3

•☽────✧˖°˖ SOMEONE WROTE THIS SONG BEFORE ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Salesperson Ena X Reader Who Speaks An Unknown Language

★ Character(s): Salesperson Ena (ENA: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ Salesperson Ena was immediately fascinated when she realized you spoke an entirely unfamiliar language. “A rare commodity! A unique dialect with limited market exposure! Tell me—what’s the valuation on fluency?” She started taking notes right away, promising to invest time into learning.

☆ “WHY CAN’T I UNDERSTAND A SINGLE THING YOU’RE SAYING?! WHAT ARE YOU, SOME KIND OF ORACLE?! SOME COSMIC JESTER?! A MESSENGER OF GØD WHO WON’T JUST SPIT IT OUT?!” While her Salesperson side was taking a structured, strategic approach, Meanie Ena was screaming into a dictionary, shaking it like the words inside might rearrange themselves into something she could grasp.

☆ Ena’s learning methods were… questionable. At one point, she tried to absorb your language through osmosis, pressing her forehead against yours while mumbling, “Downloading linguistic data… recalibrating neurons… okay, that’s not working.” Then she switched to frantically gesturing at objects and waiting for you to name them.

☆ One day, Ena decided to fully commit. She put on a little presentation, flipping through a self-made slideshow. “Ladies and gentlemen of the universe, I present to you—MY NEW LANGUAGE ACQUISITION BUSINESS PLAN. Featuring: memorization! Pattern recognition! And my personal favorite—aggressive trial and error!” She even had graphs, though they didn’t make any sense.

☆ As she improved, Ena started offering (unwanted) translations to everyone in her bizarre world. “WORRY NOT, CITIZENS! I HAVE DECODED THE ENIGMA THAT IS MY PAL’S SPEECH!” She would then proceed to provide the most inaccurate translations imaginable. “They just said… ‘All business transactions should be made in good faith!’ See? Deep philosophy!” (You had actually just asked for a snack.)

☆ There was a moment—rare, fleeting—when Meanie Ena stopped shouting and just sat in quiet contemplation. “You… really spent time teaching me,” she murmured, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “That’s… nice, I guess. Ugh, shut up, I didn’t say anything sappy!” (She totally did.)

☆ Ena started mixing your language with her usual speech patterns, much to the horror of those around her. “DEAR CUSTOMER, LET ME OFFER YOU A ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME DEAL ON—” she suddenly switched mid-sentence into a phrase in your language that made zero sense contextually. Even she looked confused. “…Wait. Did I just say ‘fermented pancake’ instead of ‘investment opportunity’? Oh dear.”

☆ One day, she threw you a curveball. “Now it’s YOUR turn!” Ena decided you had to learn her speech patterns in return. Suddenly, you were being quizzed on sales jargon and cryptic Meanie Ena-isms. “QUICK! WHAT’S THE CORRECT RESPONSE TO ‘SPONSOR MY BUSINESS’?” (…There was no correct response. Only suffering.)

☆ Once Ena became confident, she started using your language for private jokes and secret commentary. If someone was annoying her, she’d lean over and mutter something in your dialect that made you stifle a laugh. “Ugh, what did she just say?!” a bystander demanded. Ena grinned. “Oh, nothing. Just business talk!”

☆ Finally, after who-knows-how-long, Ena approached you with something clutched tightly in her hands. “TA-DA! My final product!” It was a handwritten letter, completely in your language. The grammar was awful, the spelling was questionable, but the message was clear: “Thank you for being my friend. I hope we can talk like this forever.”

[xo2dee]

SCRUFF

DMC MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Dante/(Fem)Reader. WARNINGS: Fluff. WORD COUNT: 2,286. SUMMARY: 'Sunday Reset' days were your favorite, especially when you got your boyfriend involved in the routine. Or: You shave Dante's face.

A/N: i cant believe it took me so long to write for dante.. after all i loved him before vergil then ultimately left him for his older brother JAKSNDF. anyways i had dmc4 - dmc5 dante in mind writing it, hence the beard and growing hair but pls enjoy!

‘Sunday Reset’ days were your new favorite thing.

There was a simplicity behind it that made you cozy, all the way from waking up that morning warm beneath your comforter to the idea of climbing back into bed later that night freshly showered and rubbing your legs together like a cricket with shaved legs and washed sheets. The pay off after spending all day cleaning, and decluttering to taking the dreaded (but loved) ‘Everything’ showers and then being able to go to bed that night after feeling completely accomplished and productive before you prepared for the oncoming week was a satisfaction and fulfillment on another level. And fuck, was it a chore… considering where you lived and who you had to room with, but what nothing was ever impossible once you’d put your mind to it.

And you also managed to get your boyfriend into the tradition as well.

Your half-demon, half-human boyfriend named Dante who ran an ‘Exorcist’ shop on the front, but really he was out purging any demons who’d crawled their way up out of Hell and were becoming a danger to human life. So… it was a little jarring to settle into a more… mundane setting with him once you’d learned what you had learned. Dante, however, had zero qualms about adjusting you into his life.

Moving in with Dante had been easy on its own (since him leaving Devil May Cry as whole really was out of the question), it was you having to adjust to living there that took some time. You could look past the boxes of pizza and Chinese takeouts since they could be thrown away (and maybe even the posters on his walls… maybe), but getting used to the… demonic possessions on the walls that you swore watched you every time you were in the room was something else entirely. But you made it work, you were no quitter when it came to the love of your life and his weird eccentricities around the place.

Or when he snored loud enough to wake you from sleep.

A sigh broke out of your chest once you shut the dryer door, hefting the hamper full of clean sheets and pillowcases up to take upstairs as your comforter finally dried. It was nearing the end of the day, and you could shower all the grime off of you and probably spend an hour in said shower doing everything you wanted to do before curling up in bed using Dante’s bicep as a pillow. It made you put a little extra pep in your step as the end of the day neared, ready to get the bed made and cozy as you went to sleep feeling accomplished.

As you walked past the open bathroom door on the way up the stairs, you stopped in your tracks. Dante was standing in front of the mirror with shaving cream lathered over his face, and in his hand he held a small razor you knew his ass got from a gas station somewhere saying, “It’ll do.” in the process. It irked you to know you’d gotten him an actual straight razor (and that it was in one of the drawers of the cabinet as well) and hadn’t made any use of it, instead using cheap disposable razors to tame the wild stubble what grew on his face way too fast for a normal person. Then again, he wasn’t normal anyways… Hence why he needed to use an actual razor rather than a cheap fifty cents one.

You almost groaned imagining the razor bumps you’d feel on your skin from his cheeks.

“Please tell me you’re not using a Bic, Dante?”

His hand stopped, the tip of the razor lying against his cheek as he shot you a confused look, “What else am I gonna use?”

Balancing the hamper on your hip you reached in far enough to pull open a drawer and, lo and behold, there was the razor you’d gotten him. Unused and probably as sharp as ever too. You cocked an eyebrow up while giving it a pointed look, “An actual razor?”

“Bah,” he waved you off, a slab of shaving cream falling onto his collarbone as he resumed the position he had before. You watched skeptical as Dante began to try and shave – key word: try as you could practically hear the blade struggling and scratching against his skin to cut off the thick hairs along his jawline. As usual, Dante paid it no mind, “These get the job done if you press down hard enough.”

And yet, you could still see parts of his beard uneven and not shaved when he swiped away the shaving cream while admiring his jaw in the mirror. At the rate he was moving, you’d be rubbing your cheek against sandpaper and waking up with tiny scratches on your face.

Sighing you dropped the hamper at your feet and moved into the bathroom, Dante moving back far enough for you to squeeze yourself in between him and the sink. He almost looked smug watching you do it, something you filed away for another time to pester him about, instead holding out your hand to him, “Gimme.”

One his eyebrows rose, yet he still passed the razor into your hand despite the doubt, “What, are you gonna shave me?”

Tossing the razor into the trash you ignored his little “Hey!”, choosing to swipe the razor from the drawer instead as you flicked it open and snickered when Dante audibly swallowed, “Why not? Don’t trust me?”

His hands raised in a gesture of placation, and you took that moment to jump onto the counter behind you so you had a better leverage of actually being able to shave Dante. You patted your knee once you were settled, Dante’s hands coming forward to clutch the counter next to your thighs as his arms caged you in where you sat before you reached for the shaving cream to lather more onto your hands for his face. A long exhale passed through him as his chin tilted upwards, a strong urge to gently caress his Adam’s Apple in your mind’s eye before you pushed it away, instead basking in his warmth at the closeness and rubbing your fingers along his jawline.

A low hum vibrated out of his throat, “Have you actually ever shaved a beard before?” he asked after a moment, eyes heavy as he watched you lather more shaving cream along his face. Briefly, you wondered if he was trying to pry information out of you to see if you’d shaved another man’s beard before.

You laughed at the thought, a bit of pride in you at the idea of getting Dante slightly jealous but brushed it away as you cleansed your hands of any residue before moving the razor to his jawline, “No, but I shave my legs.”

Dante snorted, closing his eyes as you began to slowly shave along his jawline, “Sometimes. Other times I wake up and your leg hairs are tickling me.”

You couldn’t help to gape at him, rolling your eyes and almost reminding him that his legs were some of the hairiest you’d ever seen. It was like waking up with Chewbacca in your damn bed, especially when Dante had an affinity of throwing his leg over your hip in the dead of his sleep and you could practically feel every single hair brushing against yours. You shaved another part of his face, his chin, as you hooked your foot at the bend of his knee to pull him closer, “Telling me this while I have a razor to your face is pretty bold.”

The breathy laugh nearly shook you, Dante’s knuckles beginning to tap a rhythm into the counter as you continued to shave him, “I’ve faced worse of your fury.”

You snickered as you finished up on his face and wiped the razor clean, pressing a finger underneath his chin and gesturing upwards, “Chin up, handsome.”

He followed your words without any fuss, and you couldn’t help but feel the tension in air scald and sizzle for a moment whenever the blade passed by his jugular. His deep swallow and the way he leaned into you made your lips purse, the fresh smell of him straight out a shower intoxicating and you could briefly see the glistening beads of water along his chest he missed wiping himself dry. The absence of Dante throughout the day while you cleaned something you mourned and your body was beginning to react to how close he was in a way a more primal side of you spurred on. The heat in the tight room sweltered when you remembered the task at hand, peeking up at Dante and sighing in relief that his eyes remained closed and he began to look like he was nodding off.

You wouldn’t be surprised. The slightest twirl of his hair around your finger made him sleepy.

The slight noise of cutting through his hair was satisfying your ears in a way you couldn’t describe as you took great pride in watching the hair slide off so easily and the shaving cream with it. You were also beginning to think that maybe you should’ve used the straight razor before on your legs to avoid stray spots you missed and the dreaded bumps along your legs before deciding that accidentally cutting yourself wasn’t worth it. You didn’t need Dante wondering why all the towels and rags had your blood all over them and him just sniffing the smell out entirely.

A blink made you realize you’d been absentmindedly shaving Dante, hoping you hadn’t accidentally nicked him in the process and sighing once you realized he was scotch free and only a slight shadow was beginning to remain on his face. He sighed longingly, his fingers moving to clutch the fabric of your leggings at your hips, “You’re actually pretty good at this. Maybe I can getcha to be my barber instead…”

You snorted, pressing your fingers onto his Adam’s Apple before rubbing it, “You don’t even have a barber, but maybe I should because cutting your hair with your sword isn’t good for it.”

A distorted, low rumble vibrated your fingers along his throat, a small grin creasing his face as his eyes opened a fraction – sleepy and content. “I’ve never done that…” A pause and he laughed at your expression, “Okay, maybe once but I was young. Cut me some slack, babe.”

You could imagine it – Dante’s shaggy locks uneven and chopped from the way he sliced them with his sword, a tongue peeking out of his lips as he did so while concentrating and trying to make his hair look as good as possible for someone cutting it themselves. Your imagination ended with either Trish or Lady walking in on him, sighing heavily at his ordeal and then leaving him to his own devices as you held back a laugh. Though, props to Dante, if he was still cutting his hair himself (or lack of actually, the more you noted how long it was getting) he was doing a much better job. Now, only if you could find the scissors he uses…

Moments later, Dante’s face was fully shaven and you noted that he was already beginning to show signs of it growing back as fast as it could. You could only internally sigh, blaming those demonic genes as you sat the razor down with a triumphant expression, “There, done.”

His eyes blinked numerous times, shaking the sleep from them as you leaned to the side a fraction to let him inspect himself in the mirror. One of his hands raised to hold his jaw, moving his head left and right as he admired himself and the job you had done, “Niceeee, I knew you’d do a good job,” a cheeky grin was thrown at you as he winked, “You gotta future here.”

“I knew you’d do a good job”, and then his little goofy, smug smirk when you barged into the bathroom to take over. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning, “Was this all your elaborate plan to get me to shave your beard for you?”

Dante shrugged while untangling himself from you, yet clearly caught as he began to wash his face again and patting it dry afterwards, “Who’s to say? A man likes to be pampered now and then…” He rolled up the towel he used and then lightly swatted your leg, making you laugh as you ripped it out of his grasp and smacked his arm with it before having a brief tug-of-war with it.

“I’m sure he does…” you teased, jumping down from your perch as he tossed the towel in the hamper full of dirty clothes. You passed by him with a kiss to his shoulder, picking the hamper back up before turning to him with stern look, “Now, moisturize your face and I’ll see you in bed.” And it wasn’t even like Dante needed to moisturize, his skin was practically flawless any and all times no matter what he did while you had to battle pores and acne most of the time.

As you walked away, you could hear him sigh before opening the mirror where said skin care products were kept, “Yeah, yeah, the collagen jelly cream when I’m done, right?”

“Yes!” you called, stopping halfway on the stairs for another reminder that had slipped your mind, “And don’t forget to put a facemask on before you get in bed!”

The moan you heard made you stifle a laugh, walking back up to the bedroom as Dante’s defeated tone slipped into your ears.

“Please… not again.”

[bonsubear]

Reader loves Invincible but hates Mark┃Mark/Invincible x Fangirl! Reader┃#3

totally hasn't been a month since I updated this series guys... :p

#1, #2, #3, #?

CW: ooc, cringe prob

WC: 3.5k

Mark wasn’t expecting taking pictures to be so… hard? The idea of taking pictures of himself seemed relatively easy but actually putting it in practice was surprisingly hard.

He took punches from his dad during training that hurt like hell, was thrown around like a rag doll and slammed to the ground that left him sore for weeks against everyday villains and been painted black and blue with bruises that stained his body like he was some sort of volunteer for a body painting class.

No matter what was thrown at him, literally or figuratively, he came back standing tall and strong. Yet, Mark was being bested by a phone camera that could not—no matter how many times he embarrassingly posed in the air—take a good picture of him.

To cut himself some slack, it's tricky to try and take shots when flying in the air by yourself while making it seem like someone else took it.

He tried to set down his phone and put it on a three, five, or ten second timer and make it seem like Invincible was taken off guard by a photo around the city—but it was like there was a curse placed upon him that made every single one of them appear blurry, unappealing, and unattractive.

Mark groaned, laying down on top of a random building, his phone beside him. He dug his hands in his hair, pushing his black locks back as he had been out here taking pictures for hours and still didn't have anything presentable for you.

It's been three days since he got your number, and he hasn't been able to start any conversation with you through text. Mark had hoped to start the perfect conversation with Invincible photos, but that plan seemed to be going up in flames with how he had zero presentable pictures.

Tomorrow is a Monday, and he didn't want to see you without having proved he was an Invincible fan to gain some favorability.

He felt really nervous, anxious, and embarrassed. Mark wanted to present to you what he promised with a silver platter, hearing you light up and praise him with blooming happiness.

It felt so stupid, so dumb but—ugh. He wanted to hear you sing praises towards him, just like how you sing praises to his superhero counterpart all the time.

He would never get riled up or upset about the fact that you would constantly insult and verbally abuse his character every chance you got, but for some reason, he easily gets worked up when his mind would track back to your admiration towards Invincible.

He had this jealousy towards Invincible that he had a hard time coming to terms with. For Pete's sake, Mark was Invincible but every time he imagined you practically drooling over his superhero counterpart in spandex, he wanted to beat himself up.

It was ridiculous. Mark knows he's him, but you don't.

Mark wants to hear you say something nice about him. A praise, a compliment—anything that Mark earned fair and square without the mask. Even a simple "hey, good job I guess!" would suffice.

As long as it comes from you, the most beautiful and gorgeous girl he has ever laid eyes on, he'll be set.

.

.

.

... What.

His body tensed as he immediately sat up from the floor, his face burning with a pink flush as he had taken in the thought that crept inside his mind.

Sure, he wasn't going to deny the fact that you were beautiful—you are! You take care of yourself like crazy with the products you buy and use every time he saw you at school so it's perfectly natural to think you're a very pretty individual—well, even without those he knows that you'll still look amazing!

Mark would be crazy to think you’re not! Hell, if you gave him the chance, he'll kiss the ground you walk on just because of how attractive you are to him!

... What.

His cheeks flushed a deeper pink, edging close to red as his hands flung to hold his face. What was that?! Mark internally screamed as steam was practically emitting from his face because of his embarrassing thoughts.

He felt sick, his stomach doing backflips as a sudden whirl of images of you appeared in his head.

Mark stared and observed you long enough that all angles of you were burned into his memory. Those long moments he looked at you during class was now biting him in the ass, leaving him a redden mess as he tried to calm himself.

That—is definitely not a creepy way to think about a potential new friend, right?

It's nothing weird, he thinks—or more so he tries to convince himself.

He's simply stating the obvious to no one but himself! Perfectly normal thing to do! Mark just really wants to be friends with you because you’re awesome, you’re into nerdy stuff like him and you'll make a perfect potential new candidate for friendship!

Perfectly normal to stare at your number and jot down potential first messages in his notes app to find the perfect one to send to you!

Perfectly normal to rehearse how to talk to you in the mirror for the past three days so that you'll start to see him as a cool guy rather than the guy you hate with a burning passion!

Perfectly normal to search up what other stuff he can buy for you and start putting some money on the side reserved just for you if an opportunity like that ever happens again!

Perfectly... normal... yeah. Normal friend stuff.

"So, this is where you ran off to?" A familiar deep voice snapped him out of his thoughts, causing Mark to jolt. Before standing up, he scrambled to get his phone and put it behind him. "Imagine my surprise when your mom woke me up asking where you were."

"D-Dad! Hheeyy." Mark cringed; his cheeks were still dusted a light pink. "What, uh, what are you doing here?" He squeaked out.

"What are you doing here? Your mom's been looking for you." Nolan raised a brow, looking at his son with curiosity. He was wearing his Invincible suit and was obviously hiding something behind his back.

"N-Nothing! Nothing. I just went out flying for a bit, heh." Mark shrugged his shoulders, trying to remain casual to hide the fact that he had been out here taking pictures of himself for you.

How much time had passed that his dad went out looking for him? It's been a couple of hours sure—but not that long, right?

"Uh-huh." Nolan nodded his head slowly, not convinced at all by the reasoning. With Mark's entire arm hidden by his back, it was clear that his son was hiding something. "I take it that whatever is behind your back is a part of," he paused, raising his hands to do air quotations, "flying?"

"Yup! Exactly!" Mark nodded quickly, toeing around his dad while still shielding his phone behind him like it was some sort of ancient relic. It would be embarrassing if his dad found out what he was actually doing—he would never live it down.

"I'm, uh, going to do some more flying! —so just tell mom I'll be back in a jiff!"

"Have fun with your 'flying'—and whatever your hiding behind there." Nolan let out a dry laugh, watching his son's cheeks flush into a deep shade of red as he stuttered out a reply.

"Behind my—whaaat? I don't know what you’re talking about dad," He raised his free hand to do a circle motion to his head, "I think old age is getting to you—uh, anyway, bye! Gotta go take—I mean, fly! See you at home!" Mark yelped, leaping off the building and taking flight.

Nolan watched the blue and yellow silhouette of his son disappear, zooming past a building with so much speed that he had never seen him have before.

He paused before letting out a deep laugh, shaking his head.

Mark sat at the dinner table. He was helping his mom by folding pieces of square paper into origami swans. It was for leaving a nice touch to the houses that his mom was selling—or something like that.

He didn't really know the whole reason why, listening to his mom absentmindedly as he was busy tapping his foot as his hands mindlessly moved on their own, thinking about you and the photos that he took today.

The recent ones he took before coming home were surprisingly better, but not anything crazy good. They looked so immature, like a baby with wobbly hands took them.

"-rk? Mark?" His mom's voice called out to him, and Mark snapped out of his thoughts. He accidentally ripped the paper origami that he was halfway into making, startled at suddenly hearing his mom’s voice.

"Uh, yeah?” He laughed awkwardly as he stared at the blue paper he just ripped, sheepishly pushing it aside. “Whoops.”

"What are you thinking about? I've been calling your name for five minutes," Debbie laughed, shaking her head as she grabbed the swan origamis that Mark had mindlessly folded. "Thinking about something important?”

He shook his head, his leg jumping up and down.

“Okay. How about someone important?—"

"No!" Mark straightened his back at the mention of 'someone,' an image of you flashing in his mind. His anxious leg stopped bouncing, coming to a halt as he blinked at his mom.

Debbie raised a curious brow at his reaction, his reply to what she had innocently asked being a bit too fast.

Her son cleared his throat, trying to act casually and brush off his odd behavior. "Ha, I mean, no. Nothing important, really."

"Hm." Debbie let out an amused hum, wiggling her eyebrows at her son's contorting face. It was funny, but almost sad how clear his emotions were written on his face. Even though a part of her wanted to find out what was going on with him, she sighed as she decided against it. “Whatever you say, Mark.” She chuckled.

A small silence passed between them, before Mark broke it. "You know, actually, mom I do have sort of a question to ask you."

"Yes?"

"Hypothetically," Mark cleared his throat, gesturing with his hands. "would there be a reason why someone would randomly just hate another person?" He shrugged his shoulders, trying to seem disinterested at the possible answer.

"Hate? That's a strong word. Are you sure hate is the right word in this 'hypothetical' question?"

"Yeah! Like, really hate. Hate to the point," Mark didn't notice the small smile that crept on the corner of his lips, but Debbie certainly did, "where she—they insult you every day and call you a creep and stuff."

Debbie was taken aback at this, blinking before responding. It was obvious that this situation was about him and some other person, specifically a girl with how he fumbled on his words. “Can I have more info about this—“

“Hypothetical—“

“—hypothetical situation?”

Mark squinted, blowing raspberries before speaking again. “Like, this girl, just really hates this guy for some reason even though the guy didn’t really do anything. Or at least, not that he remembers.” He sheepishly elaborated, grabbing another square sheet of paper to continue folding.

“Oh, he must’ve done something alright. No one just hates someone for no reason.”

“But he doesn’t remember doing anything bad!”

“It doesn’t have to be something drastic—it can be something so small that really impacted her.” Debbie explained. “We’ve all disliked a person for the pettiest of reasons that doesn’t really make sense. Something that was so unmemorable to you was so memorable to her, it happens.” She shrugged.

“Yeah, okay, but—wait me? This, this isn’t about me, mom.” He caught her words, his cheeks warming. “It’s a hypothetical question for someone I know at school. Not, pfft, not for me.”

“Sure.” Debbie nodded, a sly smile on her lips. “Not for you.”

“Mhm. Anyway, what do you think the guy should do to get the girl to not, y’know, hate him?” He brought a hand to rub the back of his neck, scratching his nape awkwardly as he inquired.

“Spend a lot of time with her. Even if you have to force some situations.”

“Spend... time with her?” Mark deadpanned; the solution she provided sounded too simple to work. 

Debbie nodded, already seeing the gears turning in his head as he ingested her words. “Just find ways to be constantly around her. Show her you aren’t as bad as a guy that she thought you were from whatever mistake you did.”

Mark hesitated for a moment before speaking, thinking long and hard about the simple wisdom his mom had bestowed on him.

Suddenly, he stood up, knocking his chair backwards as he ran over to the staircase. “Thanks mom! That really, really helps actually!” He smiled, stepping on the stairs. He halted, popping his head around the corner. “But again, the hypothetical situation wasn’t for me—it’s for someone I know from school.”

"Sure it is, I'll believe that when pigs fly!" Debbie sang, wiggling her brows at her son that had a deep flush spread through his face.

"Nice talk, mom!" Mark waved a dismissive hand, running up the stairs to his room.

Argh, it isn’t hard! … Just send it… Send it!

Mark internally screamed at himself; his eyes glued on his phone that was laid flat on its back on the comfort of his bed.

He had been going on a cycle of pacing around the room and staring intently at his phone screen trying to convince himself that sending a message to you wasn’t going to be the end of the world.

But honestly—it might. What if you decide to block him because his first message was weird? Sure, he worked hard on it, but he worked hard on a lot of things yet still screwed it up!

He dug his fingers in his scalp, kneeling in front of the open phone screen that had a chatroom open. The profile picture of the letter of your first name was taunting him, Mark imagining it was sticking its tongue out with how stupid he looked for the past forty-five minutes.

The Vasian had already typed out the message he wanted to send, picking the best one from his notes app. Now, if only he had the strength to just—push the send button!

Mark thought to consult William about this, but he would never live it down. His best friend didn’t need a reason to actually believe that he was into “getting off” at mean girls.

Not that he would ever get off to you in a million years! That would be disrespectful—and indecent! You didn’t deserve to be only used as some sort of finishing material!

Mark Grayson groaned, “Aaahh, what am I thinking?!” He jumped on his best, his phone bouncing. His thoughts suddenly shifted to masturbation rather than sending a text message to kick start his plan—those two didn’t correlate at all!

From his mom’s simple words of wisdom, he realized that she was right.

If he were to force you two to hang out with each other so frequently, you would start not hating him because of how you’ll realize he was a perfect friend for you!

You wouldn’t hate him anymore! Whatever he did to make you hate him so much just—poof! Gone!

… But how is he supposed to make that happen when he can’t even pass the first step of his plan?!

Mark bit his lip, staring up at his ceiling as he fished for his phone that he jumped next to. His fingers grazed over the open screen, accidentally hitting some letters on the keyboard as he tried to grasp for his electronic.

Ping!

His heart froze, the familiar sound of a message sending sounding next to him.

He scrambled to sit up, making his neatly folded bed a mess as he accidentally knocked down one of his pillows to the floor.

He shakily brought his phone to his eyesight, trembling as he saw what he had just done.

Mark Grayson Hey👋🏻 It’s Mark Grayson. You gave me your phone number at the mall 3 days ago. I have the photos of Invincible if you want to take a look 😄 I’ve been busy so forgot to show you😅 z zsl ᴰᵉˡᶦᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ

“Z-Z-S-L?” He read his mistype out loud when his fingers accidentally brushed up against his keyboard. “Who sends Z-Z-S-L?! That wasn’t supposed to be there!” He shouted, embarrassment overriding his entire nervous system.

Should I delete it? No, it’ll only delete on my end—not hers! Fuck, fuck, fuck—

Mark Grayson Hey👋🏻 It’s Mark Grayson. You gave me your phone number at the mall 3 days ago. I have the photos of Invincible if you wanna take a look 😄 I’ve been busy, so forgot to show you😅 z zsl ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

(Y/N) (L/N) oh

(Y/N) (L/N) thats ok ig

(Y/N) (L/N) lemme see

Mark's phone had immediately buzzed three times in only one second after he sent that message, his eyes in shock that you replied so fast. He had expected to wait for a few hours for hours to receive a response, but that seemed to be not the case.

He swallowed thickly, nervous but happy that he got your attention.

Mark Grayson Okay👍🏻 Sending them now🙃 ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

Mark Grayson [5 photo attachments] ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

Mark had only sent you a third of the pictures he had taken today, making sure to choose the best ones.

His back was up against the wall as he had his phone only centimeters away from his face, not blinking so that he would read your reaction the millisecond it seconds.

He subconsciously held his breath, the minutes ticking by so slowly. If he wasn't half viltrumite, he would've probably passed out with how long he was holding his breath for.

(Y/N) (L/N) jsjdjsskk

(Y/N) (L/N) my brain short circuited wtf

(Y/N) (L/N) im legit creaming my pants

(Y/N) (L/N) n u took those ?? thank GOD ur smooth brain didnt mess up those glorious pics

(Y/N) (L/N) hes so fineeeeeeee

Relief crashed over him, his tense muscles relaxing as he let out a giddy laugh. He rolled to his side, his smile reaching his ears as he took a moment to reread your text messages.

Even through text, you were endearing, and it seemed like you were more softer. While you still called him stupid, it was definitely less explosive if you were physically in front of him.

God, he was so happy you liked them.

Mark Grayson Do you believe me that I'm also an Invincible fan now?😁 ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

(Y/N) (L/N) idk wouldnt u like to know weather boy

Mark Grayson ? ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

(Y/N) (L/N) but actually good job n the pics, theyre so up close n personal

(Y/N) (L/N) thx

Mark let out an unimaginable squeal. It sounded inhuman—had he always been able to make a noise like that!? Was it possible to feel this happy and overjoyed over just a few pixels?

He hurriedly replied with a thank you, trying to come off like your small praise towards him wasn't a big deal to him. Which it totally was, but you didn't need to know that.

Mark Grayson Do you want to hangout after school? 🤔 ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

(Y/N) (L/N) tf hell no

(Y/N) (L/N) why would i willingly choose to be seen in public with u

(Y/N) (L/N) i already gave to charity n that was 3 days ago

Mark Grayson Not even if I have more Invincible stuff to show you? 😄 ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

(Y/N) (L/N)keys

Mark Grayson raised his brow. "Keys?" He whispered, tilting his head in confusion.

(Y/N) (L/N) fine wtv, but ur getting in my car so i can swerve in a nearby tree if i have to

(Y/N) (L/N) i know u dont get bitches so its a new experience but

(Y/N) (L/N) dont drool in my car ok creep

(Y/N) (L/N) i'll bill u the cleaning fee if u do

Mark Grayson I won't do that I promise ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

Mark Grayson I'll see you at school tomorrow then! 😊 ᴰᵉˡᶦᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ

Mark Grayson Where do you want to go after school? ᴰᵉˡᶦᵛᵉʳᵉᵈ

The read receipts suddenly turned into delivered, and he pursued his lips in disappointment. Though, his spirits lifted as he reminded himself that he got to successfully get you to hang out with him after school!

While the details of where you guys would be going will be fuzzy since you didn't reply, Mark still took it as a victory!

... Now, he just needs to figure out what Invincible stuff to you show you since he promised it. It couldn't be just more pictures; it had to be something more than that.

Mark sighed—at least he had 24 hours to figure it out.

keys = kill yourself

How I feel updating this fic after a month has passed:

Tag List for All Works: @calicocat-ina-tuxedo

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Thinking the unthinkable

On SEPTEMBER 24th, I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Time and again, I find myself thinking about radium suppositories: specifically, I get to thinking about the day that the consensus shifted from "radium suppositories are great" to "stop putting radioisotopes up your ass."

The thing is, people really liked radium-based quack remedies. They drank radium-infused water, smeared radium cream on their faces and bodies, and yes, rammed radium suppositories up their assholes:

https://maximumfun.org/episodes/sawbones/radium-girls/

The fact that this made whatever ailed you sicker didn't deter the radium true believers: if you're getting sicker, then you must need more radium.

When I think about the debate over radium, I imagine that the people who understood that radium was really bad for you must have run up against critics who told them they were being unreasonable. "You can't tell people to stop using radium. Tell them to use suppositories with less radium. Tell them to use them less frequently. But you can't just tell people, 'stop putting radium up your asshole.' They won't take you seriously."

About 20 years ago, I started pitching various institutions that reviewed consumer tech policy on the idea that they should reject any product that had DRM. After all, DRM didn't just restrict how you used a gadget today, it provided a facility for nonconsensually, irreversibly field-updating that gadget to add new restrictions tomorrow. How could a reviewer in good conscience say, "Go ahead and buy this device if you need this feature," if they knew that at any time in the future, the gadget's maker could take that feature away and leave the buyer with no recourse?

Here's the warning I (half-seriously) suggested magazines run alongside such products:

WARNING: THIS DEVICE’S FEATURES ARE SUBJECT TO REVOCATION WITHOUT NOTICE, ACCORDING TO TERMS SET OUT IN SECRET NEGOTIATIONS. YOUR INVESTMENT IS CONTINGENT ON THE GOODWILL OF THE WORLD’S MOST PARANOID, TECHNOPHOBIC ENTERTAINMENT EXECS. THIS DEVICE AND DEVICES LIKE IT ARE TYPICALLY USED TO CHARGE YOU FOR THINGS YOU USED TO GET FOR FREE — BE SURE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF BUYING ALL YOUR MEDIA OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AT NO TIME IN HISTORY HAS ANY ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY GOTTEN A SWEET DEAL LIKE THIS FROM THE ELECTRONICS PEOPLE, BUT THIS TIME THEY’RE GETTING A TOTAL WALK. HERE, PUT THIS IN YOUR MOUTH, IT’LL MUFFLE YOUR WHIMPERS.

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/08/playstationed/#tyler-james-hill

No one took me up on my offer. Over and over again, magazine editors, managers of nonprofit review outlets, and indie gadget reviewers told me that it was unrealistic to publish a roundup of, say, this year's portable music players with the recommendation, "Just don't buy any of these. None of them are fit for purpose."

In other words: No one wanted to publish, "The correct amount of radium to stuff up your asshole is zero."

But the correct amount of rectal radium for you to administer is "none" and the correct car for you to buy today is none of the cars:

https://foundation.mozilla.org/en/privacynotincluded/articles/its-official-cars-are-the-worst-product-category-we-have-ever-reviewed-for-privacy/

This isn't the first time the correct automotive recommendation was "don't buy any of these cars." Back before seatbelts came standard in cars, the correct car was "don't buy a car." Sometimes, the correct answer is "none of the above." Even if that makes you sound unserious, the alternative is that you counsel people to put radium up their asses in a bid to seem "reasonable."

Today, DRM-infected products are routinely downgraded and bricked:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/9/5/24236237/ftc-software-tethering-letter-consumer-reports-ifixit

Even when companies face public uproar over these disastrous decisions and vow to reverse them, they can't, because these downgrades are one way:

https://www.stereocheck.com/news/music/unfortunately-you-cant-revert-to-the-old-sonos-app-anymore/

That's bad enough when it's your smart speakers, but what about when the company bricks your wheelchair:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/06/when-drm-comes-your-wheelchair

Or your $100,000 exoskeleton:

https://paulickreport.com/news/people/paralyzed-jockey-michael-straight-wants-to-keep-walking-but-manufacturer-wont-repair-exoskeleton

The reality is that we're living at the end of a catastrophic experiment in deregulation and its handmaidens, corruption and regulatory capture, and there are lots of "normal" things that we just need to stop doing. Not do less of them – just stop.

Like, the correct amount of collusion between realtors representing sellers and realtors representing buyers is zero:

https://www.latimes.com/business/real-estate/story/2024-03-19/realtor-rules-just-changed-dramatically-heres-what-buyers-and-sellers-can-expect

We got that one right, but there's plenty more that we're still engaged in this pathetic, denialist bargaining over. What's the correct degree to which White House officials should cycle back into working at the industries they oversaw? Zero. How many times should such a person come back to work at the White House? Again: zero:

https://prospect.org/power/2024-09-19-next-administration-can-stop-ethics-scandals/

When the Biden admin dropped its executive order on ethics just hours after the inauguration, they trumpeted that it "went further than any other towards slowing the revolving door and limiting conflicts of interest while in office":

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2021/01/20/executive-order-ethics-commitments-by-executive-branch-personnel/

And it did. But it was also full of loopholes, because banning these conflicts of interest altogether was viewed as politically unserious, so the correct amount of radium up the administration's asshole was set at non-zero. The result? Well, it's about what you'd expect:

https://therevolvingdoorproject.org/what-the-hell-is-anita-dunn-even-allowed-to-work-on/

Congress hasn't updated consumer privacy law since 1988, when it took the bold step of…banning video-store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you took home. Since then, a coalition of commercial surveillance companies and the cops and spies who treat their data-lakes as massive, off-the-books anaerobic lagoons of warrantless surveillance data has prevented the passage of any new privacy protections for Americans.

The result? Stalkers, creeps, spies (both governmental and corporate), identity thieves, spearphishers and other villainous scum are running wild, endangering every American's financial, physical and political wellbeing. The correct amount of commercial data-brokerage for America is zero:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

In other words, we should order every data-broker, every tech giant, every consumer electronics company and app vendor to delete all their surveillance data. All of it. The correct amount of radium in that asshole is – as with every other orifice zero:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/07/revealed-preferences/#extinguish-v-improve

From the perspective of the radium pitchmen, the most shocking thing about the past four years has been antitrust enforcers – like Lina Khan, Rohit Chopra, and Jonathan Kanter – who refused to bargain about how much radium we needed to stick up our butts. Fearless of being branded as "unserious" and "unreasonable," they seriously, reasonably said the right amount is none, actually.

None. Which is why they're so mad at Khan and co. Which is why they're so bent on getting Kamala Harris to fire Khan – despite the fact that this would burn precious political capital in the senate. Some people just love the feeling they get from a radium suppository – especially the suppository salesmen:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-09-19-lina-khan-doesnt-need-to-be-confirmed-again/

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/19/just-stop-putting-that-up-your-ass/#harm-reduction/a>

Image: Museum of the Health Sciences https://www.uab.edu/amhs/

[rassicas]

QUESTION, how do Inkfish have milk/milk flavoured things if there are no mammals to produce it? And if they synthesized the milk, how would they know that its nutritional? Or that it can be made into cheese/yogurt?

Even if theyre using oats or nuts to make milk substitues, i dont think those can be used to make other dairy products right? Idk im not a biologist

for this ask i thought about just linking the wikipedia pages for plant milk and vegan cheese or the video where i touch on this topic and leaving it at that, but i thought that would come off as too passive aggressive and i dont like that with how often i see this question floating around still i think its worth going into a bit more so i can just link this post in case anyone ever asks again.

“One thing we know about the world of Splatoon is that mammals are basically gone,” said Nogami, seated across from me in a small room behind Nintendo’s booth. “So they don’t eat beef or pork or the meat of mammals.” With Splatoon 2 playing on a screen, Nogami walked his Inkling over to a corner in Inkopolis square where a bright ad played for cereal. A crab chowed down on a bowl of milky carbs. “There’s no mammals, so whatever is being poured over the cereal might not be milk,” Nogami laughed. Hm. Okay. So what do Inklings eat? “Veggies, birds, fish,” said Nogami. “Some bread.” -- What do Squid Kids Eat? Splatoon’s Producer Explains

So the facts are: -Mammals are basically gone (excluding Judds/Grizz) -They drink milk that isn't real milk -There are crops cultivated in the Inkling world The obvious conclusion is that they use plant-based substitutes. there are a few questions that could spawn from this.... Q1: a bunch of stuff went extinct in the splatoon world. what kind of dairy substitutes could they use exactly? A: canonically, inklings have a variety of rice and soy-based products. a few types of nuts are confirmed to exist. they eat coconuts too. you can make milk out of all of these, as well as other dairy products like cheese and yogurt. They're not limited to plants either...

i swear everyone ive shown the left image goes like EWWW THEY EAT INK but like. squid ink is edible in real life. i dont get why this is weird?? nobody said ewww at the squiddymelon which i imagine would absorb ink to change colors like that. the concept that inklings figured out Ink-based dairy products is fucking awesome. anyways Q2: how did they figure this out? A: I think the answer can be found by looking into the history of plant milks in our world. Humans have been making and consuming plant based milks like soy and almond milk for centuries. the consumption of coconut milk goes back millennia. plant based cheeses are not as old, but still go back a hundred or so years. a lot of other dairy substitutes emerged in the past 50 years. Inklings figured out plastics, fish egg energy, and computers, surely at some point in their 2000+ year history, they figured out plant-based milks, cheeses, and yogurts. It's also possible that recipes from the human era survived. maybe they learned about dairy products that way. oh wait isn't there a sunken scroll about human era recipes?

yes There's also a non-zero chance that Judd could've taught the inklings about the human era and their food. The other question i can think of is... Q3: is there any specific mention of a plant based substitute being used instead of a mammalian product in splatoon? A: yes<3

In 2019 there was JP only splatfest, pineapple vs. no pineapple. It's about whether you put pineapple on subuta (japanese sweet and sour pork.) (i dont have strong opinions on pineapple, but the subuta at gyoza no osho. bro it will make me hurt myself and others. literally licking the fucking plate its so yummy. anyways.) Now pigs are extinct. How would pearl and marina have opinions on a pork dish?

「だな！ アタシんちの古い書庫で見つけたレシピで ロブに作ってもらったやつだろ？」 「豚という生き物が 絶��しちゃってるから 大豆とかで代用した 「酢豚風」でしたけどね♪」 Pearl: "That's the recipe you found in the old archives at my place, and Crusty Sean made it for you, right?" Marina: "Yeah, though since those creatures called pigs are extinct, he substituted it for soy and some other things to make a "subuta-style" dish~ "

this is the only thing i have seen that confirms plant-based substitutes being used for mammal meat in splatoon's setting. i learned of this just recently and i was SO happy this was confirmed somewhere<3 I think this gives a lot of weight to the idea that they'd use soy milk and other soy-based dairy products.

[paperclipninja]

I've seen a few posts about production of Good Omens being paused (reported in Deadline here) and people seem mostly pragmatic about it but I've also seen some worry/concern floating about and figured that as someone who has seen many different scenarios unfold in fandom over the years, I'd add a couple of points:

- the article is vague and literally states "Deadline is hearing there are discussions about possible production changes". That's like me saying, "I'm hearing there are conversations about this thing happening". There is zero confirmation of anything at this stage.

- production changes can mean many things, though I think we all know one change that seems most likely/necessary under current circumstances. But the key words here is changes. Changes implies the intention to continue, but with a few tweaks.

- a pause is just that. A moment to take pause, think about how to proceed, make changes. It's not the "C" word.

- this story is a co-creation. I imagine there are a lot of ppl committed to ensuring Terry Pratchett's story is finished.

- the show is profitable and popular, so Amazon want to make it (cynical? Maybe. I think probably realistic though).

I guess the point of this post is to say: this news doesn't mean a whole lot until we get some clarity or confirmation. But it's also not dire.

So hang in there fam, keep creating and sharing art and fics and insights and general brilliance 💛 It's all we can really do for now.

[ms-demeanor]

Hi! You’re in the LA area, right? I hope you and your family are okay.

Unrelatedly, I ran across a thread on Mastodon about Proton Mail, which I think you’ve talked about before, and was curious what you make of it / how credible it is: https://code4lib.social/@inthehands@hachyderm.io/113838748729664639

I'm fine thanks! Worried about some friends but I'm good.

I think that thread is not incorrect, but is also bullshit.

Email protocols do not allow for 100% anonymous communication and never will, when Proton was subpoenaed for user data that ended up with some French climate activists getting prosecuted they were transparent about what was requested and updated their logging rules to store less data. *Starting* from the assumption that protonmail is supposed to be totally secure OR sells itself as totally secure is disingenuous.

The great thing about open source software is that you never have to trust a shithead CEO when they talk about what the software does. I get why people are angry at the CEO (I think the CEO is at least half wrong in that he is claiming that Republicans will challenge monopolies, but he's not wrong about the destructive corporatism of the Democratic party even if he is *in essence* wrong about which party is more likely to gesture in the direction of breaking up tech monopolies) but A) the thread says that proton's software is "opaque" and it just. Literally is not. and B) that thread links to another thread talking about how what proton is selling is trust and nope. They don't have to sell trust; you can see what their software does if you choose to investigate it, there's no need for trust when you can verify. What they're selling is transparency and from where i'm standing they are indeed quite transparent.

God. Imagine thinking that a zero trust service is selling trust.

So I think the argument that "protonmail actually isn't as secure as it claims" is bullshit that people bring up whenever they're mad at the company (whether they have legitimate reasons to be mad at the company or not).

For the record: you should never, ever, EVER treat email as a secret. Nothing you do over email is really secret because *the rules that allow email to function as a service* require at least some very sensitive information to be an open part of the protocol.

The Proton page on end to end encryption is *very* clear that it is the contents of your email messages that are encrypted, not your email as a whole, and in the image they use to illustrate this the parts of your email that *cannot* be made private (sender, recipient, subject line, time sent) are shown unencrypted:

They're not subtle about letting people know this. Nor are they quiet about the fact that replies to encrypted emails are not encrypted by default.

So the thread is *technically* correct in that all the security "holes" described reflect reality, but it's correct like saying "McDonald's says that you can eat their food for every meal and you'll put on ten pounds of muscle but ACTUALLY putting on ten pounds of muscle requires a huge amount of dedication and a very careful diet and a lot of resistance exercise" - like, I guess yeah that's what you have to do to put on ten pounds of muscle but where exactly was McDonald's making that claim? Did they actually make that claim or are general statements like "I'm Lovin' It" being misinterpreted in bad faith by people on the internet who are mad at something a CEO did?

So. Like. Yeah the CEO is being a shithead, the social media team made a pretty bad fuckup by doubling down on his shitheadery, the product still works as described, AND the thread discussing all of that is deeply annoying.

So.

I think this thread actually does a great job of explaining why I've never seen a "hackers for social justice" group that has lasted. This reminds me a LOT of when someone tried to say that you shouldn't use firefox because the former CEO was a homophobe. There are a lot of deeply shitty people who have made important contributions to our tech ecosystem and if we threw the baby out with the bathwater every time Notch from Minecraft ended up being Notch from minecraft you'd lock yourself out of a lot of really important tools. And this isn't the same as "buying harry potter merch funds transphobia" because it literally doesn't; especially with open source tools you can continue using the software and cheerfully hate the CEO because A) fuck that guy and B) what the fuck are you going to do about it, guy, this shit's encrypted.

I don't want to get too deeply into a discussion about what is or is not cancel culture, but what I'm seeing in that thread (and what I see coming up every time someone brings up the "But the French Climate Activists!" thing) is an attempt to prioritize political alignment over real-world utility. It's attempting to cancel a *genuinely useful tool* because someone involved in the development is an asshole.

By all means, don't give protonmail money if the CEO's trump-positive comments make you feel unsafe.

However: What service are you going to use that is as accessible and as secure to ensure that you actually *are* safe? There are alternatives out there. Do they actually do more than proton? Are they easier to use? Are they open source? One of the responses to that thread was "yeah, that dude seems shitty; i'd switch to another service if there was another one that I felt was as secure" and that's pretty much what I think the correct attitude is. (If you really, really still want to switch, Tuta has been the broadly recommended alternative to protonmail for years but at this point Proton has a suite of services that some users would need to replace, not just email)

IDK i think shit like this contributes to a lot of the bad kind of security nihilism where people are like "oh no, things will never be secure and even my scrappy little open source product is headed by an asshole, i may as well use google because everything sucks" when they should have the good kind of nihilism which is like "man, there are a lot of assholes out there and they're never going to stop being assholes; i'd better take proactive steps to act like the people who make tech stuff are assholes and operate from a better base of security at the start"

so the takeaways are:

Proton never claimed that anything but the message contents of your e2e encrypted messages are encrypted; as far as these things go, they do a pretty good job of being both secure and easy to use compared to other offerings.

Yeah the CEO is being kind of a shithead and I'm not a huge fan of that.

If you think the CEO is being a shithead and don't want to give the company your money, don't pay for their services, but the CEO being a shithead doesn't actually mean you can't trust their services; their services are literally built on zero trust, if the CEO literally wanted to hunt you down personally he wouldn't be any more able to decrypt your emails than he was before and he wouldn't be any more likely to respond to a subpoena than he was before (proton does respond to subpoenas when required but not otherwise; they've been compelled to produce more data in the last decade than before because law enforcement finally realized who they needed to yell at - one of the bigger issues here is the Swiss courts being more willing to grant subpoenas to international complainants than they were before)

The reason we don't go see hogwarts movies is because doing so gives JK money and that does actual real world harm; using firefox does not have an impact on Brendan Eich's ability to materially change the world. It is very weird that we're in a place where we're treating *open source encryption software that is simple enough for your grandma to use it* as though it is Orson Scott Card.

Sorry i'm still stuck on people thinking that proton, famously open source, is opaque, and that an encryption service with zero trust architecture is selling trust.

Anyway if you've ever got questions about security/privacy/whatever services privacyguides.org is a very reliable source.

OH I FIGURED OUT WHAT WAS BUGGING ME

There are a bunch of people discussing this talking about how the CEO's social media is what has made them feel unsafe and I'm going to be a dick here and say that facts don't care about your feelings.

The CEO saying stupid shit doesn't actually make you unsafe in a situation like this; if the CEO was a violent transphobe or aggressive racist or horribly misogynist that wouldn't actually make any of the users of the product less safe. That's why the SJ hacker stuff I've seen hasn't had much staying power; I think that groups that focus on making people feel included and welcome and safe to be themself within the group run into really big problems when there's a conflict between people in the group FEELING unsafe because of (genuinely important in many ways) cultural signifiers like political alignment and so in order to accommodate that feeling they end up doing things (like some kinds of collaboration/accountability practices, abandoning useful tools, WAY too much personal transparency and radical vulnerability for people who are doing crime shit) that ACTUALLY make them less safe.

The CEO being a shithead may make you feel bad, but moving to a less secure platform may actually be dangerous. One of these things can have a big impact on your life, and it is not the one that is happening on twitter.

Anyway. Email is inherently insecure and if you want a secure messaging tool use Signal.

If you are doing crime shit don't talk about it on the internet and DEFINITELY don't talk about it in any kind of unencrypted platform.

If you are a French climate activist who would like to not get arrested if Tuta gets a subpoena for data, use the email service in concert with tor and be cautious about senders/receivers and subject lines.

[longingforrotkehlchen]

My 2024 Top 10 Favourites.

On Melancholy Hill Tumblr's and my absolute favourite. There isn't much to say. I just remember turning around while counting geese, and there it was - an idyllic scene. A crow extraordinarily relaxed, loafing on a nice spring afternoon. I came a bit closer thinking I *really* hope it stays. Then I crouched fearing the same, but the crow, watched me attentively and stayed. I was blessed - the luck of photographing birds more used to people. The slope gave me the perfect height for the shot, and the crow just chilled there, looking like something was occupying its mind. I got what I wanted and left. The crow stayed there, but it also stayed with me forever.

Sweet mommy's love It was Graugansito season and fortunately I was right in time to see the very little ones. This scene was beautiful, and obviously the geese just chill by the lake and all you need is a perfect moment to capture. This one stood out for me. And I can neither confirm nor deny whether there were more goslings hidden under mommy's wing.

Europe's angriest bird This picture was taking by cheating. So call me a cheat. It is nice, but I cheated. And even worse, I made a little guy angry. Yes, I did play playback (even though I believe that's wrong) in this one because I had seen a pair of goldcrests here the previous week and I was very curious to see if they were genuinely staying and breeding in this place. The male came and sang immediately –that's how I got him nicely close to me–, but the best thing about this encounter wasn't the pictures - it was realizing that the bird seemed to know there wasn't another bird. That I was the source of the goldcrest song. That I was his enemy. I haven't managed to make a bird love me, but that day, I managed to make one hate me.

The light of duckling This pond lends itself to high contrasts and you can play a little with that. I didn't have much time, and the ducklings were all over the place, but I got lucky (otherwise, this post wouldn't exist). As I was leaving I took one last shot with the settings I had for a different spot - and it turned out well. Some of my favourite photos are those that transmit emotions when you look at them. I think this is also one of them.

Spring has arrived It's easy to forget you don't have to be very close to the bird to get a nice photo. In any case, here I was taking a photo out of excitement at seeing Hausrotschwanzkehlchen back, before getting closer to the bird. I never intended it to be anything more than a 'proof' shot, but sometimes those turn out way better than expected.

Is this fluff real? It was peak migration, sunny late afternoon, Schwanzmeise flock and there I was, trying to capture this so-called product of my imagination. It was difficult to get the right angle as the sun was behind them and I had to avoid the backlight, but the good thing about them is that they don't seem to care much about your presence. I got this one really really nicely, and right after they left, I saw my first black storks in the sky. Last September was good.

One more shot As I focus on birding and photography comes second, sometimes I might just leave with zero nice photos to post. That day was no different, but that day I was also thinking: "I'm running out of current photos to post." So I gave it an extra shot, overstayed, and tried to find a subject. A big Blaumeise bunch showed up, many of them, busy foraging, and (I think it was always the same) one came so close that allowed me to take some cute photos.

The pose There's little challenge in taking photos of the coots in this pond. If that wasn't enough, the light was nice that day and someone had thrown a pallet in it. The coot was standing on it and I thought the opportunity was too nice to ignore. Then it even started stretching, giving me the chance to capture this nice pose. The poop is just extra.

The babiest Wacholderdrossel As I was leaving the S-Bahn station, coming up the stairs, I saw this baby perched on a handrail. I could barely believe it, so I emerged, went there, and took my camera out. The baby was going nowhere despite people walking right in front of it. I took some photos, in awe, and I don't know what everybody else contemplating us thought, but I thought that I was so damn lucky to have such a cute photo without even having started.

Just a moment If you're learning photography, nobody is going to tell you "just shoot at whatever you see," but that seems to work sometimes. It's not my intention, mind, because here I saw a little bird perching above my head and I really needed this shot to indeed confirm I was seeing Fitis and not Zilpzalp. But look at that little face, that smoothness... I guess when you take thousands of shots while going places, a few might also be nice. It's never easy to decide, but here's my selection with some background/behind the scenes. As usual there isn't much to it. Mostly just press the button. Let's hope 2025 brings us more bird joy to all of us!

[simply-ivanka]

TIPS ON PUMPING GAS

✅ Only buy or fill up your car or truck in the early morning when the ground temperature is still cold. Remember that all service stations have their storage tanks buried below ground. The colder the ground the more dense the gasoline, when it gets warmer gasoline expands, so buying in the afternoon or in the evening....your gallon is not exactly a gallon. In the petroleum business, the specific gravity and the temperature of the gasoline, diesel and jet fuel, ethanol and other petroleum products plays an important role.

A 1-degree rise in temperature is a big deal for this business. But the service stations do not have temperature compensation at the pumps.

✅ When you're filling up do not squeeze the trigger of the nozzle to a fast mode If you look you will see that the trigger has three (3) stages: low, middle, and high. You should be pumping on low mode, thereby minimizing the vapors that are created while you are pumping. All hoses at the pump have a vapor return. If you are pumping on the fast rate, some of the liquid that goes to your tank becomes vapor. Those vapors are being sucked up and back into the underground storage tank so you're getting less worth for your money.

✅ One of the most important tips is to fill up when your gas tank is HALF FULL. The reason for this is the more gas you have in your tank the less air occupying its empty space. Gasoline evaporates faster than you can imagine. Gasoline storage tanks have an internal floating roof. This roof serves as zero clearance between the gas and the atmosphere, so it minimizes the evaporation. Unlike service stations, here where I work, every truck that we load is temperature compensated so that every gallon is actually the exact amount.

✅ Another reminder, if there is a gasoline truck pumping into the storage tanks when you stop to buy gas, DO NOT fill up; most likely the gasoline is being stirred up as the gas is being delivered, and you might pick up some of the dirt that normally settles.

[naamahdarling]

I'm probably going to piss some people off with this, but.

The use of AI and machine learning for harmful purposes is absolutely unacceptable.

But that isn't an innate part of what it does.

Apps or sites using AI to generate playlists or reading lists or a list of recipes based on a prompt you enter: absolutely fantastic, super helpful, so many new things to enjoy, takes jobs from no-one.

Apps or sites that use a biased algorithm (which is AI) which is not controllable by users or able to be turned off by them, to push some content and suppress others to maximize engagement and create compulsive behavior in users: unethical, bad, capitalism issue, human issue.

People employing genAI to create images for personal, non-profit use and amusement who would not have paid someone for the same service: neutral, (potential copyright and ethics issue if used for profit, which would be a human issue).

People incorporating genAI as part of their artistic process, where the medium of genAI is itself is a deliberate part of the artist's technique: valid, interesting.

Companies employing genAI to do the work of a graphic designer, and websites using genAI to replace the cost of stock photos: bad, shitty, no, capitalist and ethical human issue.

People attacking small artists who use it with death threats and unbelievable vitriol: bad, don't do that.

AI used for spell check and grammar assistance: really great.

AI employed by eBay sellers to cut down on the time it takes to make listings: good, very helpful, but might be a bad idea as it does make mistakes and that can cost them money, which would be a technical issue.

AI used to generate fake product photos: deceptive, lazy, bad, human ethical issue.

AI used to identify plagiarism: neutral; could be really helpful but the parameters are defined by unrealistic standards and not interrogated by those who employ it. Human ethical issue.

AI used to analyze data and draw up complex models allowing detection of things like cancer cells: good; humans doing this work take much longer, this gives results much faster and allows faster intervention, saving lives.

AI used to audit medical or criminal records and gatekeep coverage or profile people: straight-up evil. Societal issue, human ethical issue.

AI used to organize and classify your photos so you don't have to spend all that time doing it: helpful, good.

AI used to profile people or surveil people: bad and wrong. Societal issue, human issue, ethical issue.

I'm not going to cover the astonishingly bad misinformation that has been thrown out there about genAI, or break down thought distortions, or go into the dark side of copyright law, or dive into exactly how it uses the data it is fed to produce a result, or explain how it does have many valid uses in the arts if you have any imagination and curiosity, and I'm not holding anyone's hand and trying to walk them out of all the ableism and regurgitated capitalist arguments and the glorification of labor and suffering.

I just want to point out: you use machine learning (AI) all the time, you benefit from it all the time. You could probably identify many more examples that you use every day. Knee-jerk panicked hate reflects ignorance, not sound principles.

You don't have beef with AI, you have beef with human beings, how they train it, and how they use it. You have beef with capitalism and thoughtlessness. And so do I. I will ruthlessly mock or decry misuse or bad use of it. But there is literally nothing inherently bad in the technology.

I am aware of and hate its misuse just as much as you do. Possibly more, considering that I am aware of some pretty heinous ways it's being used that a lot of people are not. (APPRISS, which is with zero competition for the title the most evil use of machine learning I have ever seen, and which is probably being used on you right now.)

You need to stop and actually think about why people do bad things with it instead of falling for the red herring and going after the technology (as well as the weakest human target you can find) every time you see those two letters together.

You cannot protect yourself and other people against its misuse if you cannot separate that misuse against its neutral or helpful uses, or if you cannot even identify what AI and machine learning are.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

omg congrats for 5k doll! i wanted to slide in and see if i could have a protective!bf Gaz written since my baby is so underappreciated??? i saw this tweet about the scene in mw where gaz's disabling a bomb and is unable to and price throws the guy off the balcony, but this time the bomb in strapped to his love and he's and he's struggling and sees price out of the corner of his eye and remembers what happens last time and panicks and goes all 'you won't do that to her'. just a thought, love all your work!

—Don't Look At Her

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

"Gaz," your voice wavers, watching the rapidly working man and seeing his darting eyes—lit with panicked fervor. He doesn't answer, so you speak again. "Gaz!"

"No!" He barks, brown eyes instantly meeting yours. Lips pull in a right frown; there's a glint in his gaze that you'd never seen before—not in the many years you'd known him. Kyle's firm hands don't leave the wiring attached to your chest. The vest.

The bomb.

"No, Love," he grates out, immediately getting back to work as you try to keep your tears at bay, body jerking back and forth as your boyfriend pulls at the straps and bits. "Don't even say anything. You're going to fucking fine, you hear? It's going to be okay."

It was the product of bad intel, really. You'd been sent in without the proper know-how, leading to a scuffle where the butt of a gun had been slammed into your temple. When your eyes opened again, it was already too late.

Kneeling in the middle of a large office building, the glass of the windows shattered behind you, and the wind whips the back of your skull aggressively, you stare down at Gaz. Trying to form words on a tongue that won't cooperate.

"You need to run," you whisper out, resigning yourself as the rapid beeping increases. Your heart moves so fast you can't feel the skin of your chest anymore. "Kyle," pleading, you watch his jaw clench something fierce. "Listen to me—!"

"I'm not leaving you!" A sharp snap of a metal piece hits your ears, the piece of the vest clattering to the ground in a violent display of desperation. Gaz glances back up at you stubbornly; as if uncaring about the impending incineration only minutes away. "So you stop bloody talking like that, yeah? I'm not just giving up!"

The sides of your eyes dribble out rabid tears, lungs a mess of air and inhales that can't even be considered breathing anymore by how wheezy they sound.

How would it feel? Exploding into a patchwork of blood and fire—instantaneous, sure, but feeling Kyle's heat and his puffs of air; his fear, you can't imagine him dying like that. Not him.

"Look at me," Gaz pants, fingers pulling at cords in search of the one he needed to cut—unable to pinpoint it through the hack-job that had been done to your vest.

There was every color under the sun except fucking yellow. His teeth clench so tight they hurt his jaw, but he sends you quick glances as you shakily do as he says.

Brown eyes soften, and while the both of your hands shake, for a second there's a relief at the eye-contact. "Repeat it, Love."

You lick your lips and stammer, "y-you're not leaving."

Lips press firmly into yours, and you clench your eyes tight at the sensation, tiny sob breaking the contact.

"That's right." Gaz growls. "Not on my life."

Rapid footsteps race into the room, but before the Sergeant can reach for his weapon, the familiar call from the Captain echoes out.

"Friendly!" It's as if Gaz doesn't even register, still digging and fearfully looking at the timer.

50 seconds. 49. 48. 47...

"Sergeant," Price jogs over. You can barely find the inner strength to look up at him. "Sitrep."

Blue eyes dart from the vest to you and the Captain's serious face goes grim. His expression flashes with the inner workings of his mind, eyes narrowing and a grunt stuck under his lips.

"I have it," Gaz speaks quickly, and the words strike you as odd, though you don't comment. Price slid him a sharp look.

"Gaz—"

"Don't even look at her." Snarling like an animal, brown orbs are volatile enough to rend stone in two as they meet the older man's. You and John are rendered speechless, sharing a swift glance in shock like teenagers hearing their parents swear for the first time.

Kyle's eyes are wild, sweat slicking his brow. "Come fucking on!" He yells and your body is snapped forward as Gaz pries on the straps, having to steady yourself on the man's shoulders for support. Every muscle in his body is taunt; shaking with force.

Perhaps it was the memory that invaded his brain like a parasite that had made him snap at his superior like that—a stab to his fine tissue that digs all the way down his rail-straight spine.

Piccadilly Circus. Tanto building. Hostage with an explosive vest.

Kyle's fingers bleed as they peel back rough velcro, having ripped off his gloves to be nearer to you.

It all flashes past his mind in horrible increments, the past, but instead of a man—the hostage is you. And Price was burning his neck with a harsh stare once more.

He's going to throw her out the window, Kyle panics and you watch with the deadly realization of the situation. No. No, I won't let him. Not her.

"Garrick," Price says, voice deep. But he doesn't move. "You need to get your head back on."

"I've got it screwed on just right, Captain." Gaz grunts. "Trust me."

12 seconds. 11. 10. 9...

You stare at Gaz and memorize the make of his handsome face—the dates and the late nights speaking about the future sticking to your skin like leeches; sucking away every instance of love and happiness. His laugh. His brown eyes.

His smile.

Oh, you want to see your Love smile.

"Sergeant!" Price yells, moving forward to grapple onto Kyle's shoulder. "It's going off!"

Your boyfriend rips out of his hold, fists clenched and screaming.

"Get the fuck off of me! I can save her!" Your back hits the ground with a slap and a ragged gasp from your lips, the Brit straddling your hips in a desperate play to deactivate the bomb.

"Kyle," you look up at him, pleading. "You have to take cover, it's...it's okay. I love you, I need you to know that—"

"Bloody shut," eyes spark, locking on the bright color under the front of the vest. Gaz snaps a hand under the material and rips at it in a ruthless wrench of his arm. 2 seconds. There's a deafening snap of wire. "Up!"

The beeping stops and the world stills.

Your wide eyes can't stop crying as you stare up into brown eyes with astonishment; struggling to breathe. You can't tell if the building is vibrating or only you, but nothing seems to be able to focus as a wave crashes down on you; adrenaline still striking you.

Everything rings inside of your ears, pounding in your head.

Hands grasp the base of your jaw and lips descend to yours, tears slapping your skin from above in a wave of feral agony. Gaz stifles his sob on your mouth as you shake wildly, panting over your flesh.

Price gives off a large sigh from behind, standing straighter and turning his head.

Gaz's forehead connects with yours, but there are no words to be said—just the silent gazing and lingering fear of death. He won't let go of your cheeks, and, quivering, you go to grasp tightly at the sides of his arms.

With a shuddering breath, he closes his eyes and sags into you.

TAGS:

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