#10 years of misinterpretation

[raiiny-bay]

ok i’m going back & forth on my mbz ending

[connormoving]

okay sooo 1. once little man is done with my laptop i need to do the ssn shit bc i have the letter 2. in an hour i need to switch my laundry to the dryer and at Some point i need to sleep preferablyyyy i oush as long as i can its been 28 hours i Think? since i woke up i dont avtually remember its all kind of a blur i do have a headache and my fuckshit tooth is bothering me but whatever . once i get the ssn login thing done im pretty sure i can get a new card like right away and then once that gets here i can go and get my permit And by then my new glasses will be here which is epics and ummm at some point not today bc im tired and have a headache aka not at my best. so once those 2 things r not the case i need to do the science and math ged practice tests ive been putting them off bc im scared ill do bad SKULL.but i need to get those done ... and omce i have the permit and everything thennnnnn i can go do my actual proper ged tests and once those r done ill have my ged and an id and thus can start applying for jobs again And ill be so brave and ask my mom to teach me how to drive . YIPPEE

[autisticlee]

I'm kinda confused by your last post, so do you want other people to relate you or not?? Because you said you had enough of anxious/depressed people yet you're... Obviously depressed AF yourself lol

lol but im not depressed necessarily. i'm obviously burnt out AF, if you know the difference. I learned they are different. hard to figure out. but is a difference. don't have all the depression signs, but do have all the burnout ones.

also, am I only allowed to relate to depressed/anxious people? people who relate to my problems and struggles? am I not allowed to relate to other things? maybe positive things for once? how does wanting to be around people I can relate to in other ways mean i dont want people to relate to? am I only allowed to relate to people who share/relate to negative experiences? you're on my Life Rant blog so i can see you thinking that's all there is to me.

I like when I get a note on a post with tags like "this happens to me too." it feels nice to not feel alone. but when every person around me/interacts with me is too anxious/depressed/overly negative/etc to relate to any positive parts of me, it gets very hard!!!! I put all my energy and effort into their needs when they are unable to do the same. I can't keep doing that!

basically i'm tired of trauma bonding, being unpaid therapist, not getting my needs met, never getting anyone to do anything I want because their brain wont let them, only being surrounded by negativity and absorbing it against my will, walking on eggshells, etc. I try my best to be there for them. but I need someone capable of being there for me too! I need different things to relate to sometimes! I need people able to share positive vibes that I can absorb! want more people I can have more positive things in common with, not just negative experiences that get ping ponged back and forth lmao

[florencemtrash]

He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.

Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.

Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.

It was starting to become a problem now. 

You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor. 

10:55am and Azriel was still asleep. 

The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it. 

Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object. 

The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke. 

“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence. 

One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down. 

The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes. 

You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful. 

You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home. 

You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you. 

“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter. 

The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.

“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out. 

“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.” 

“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—” 

Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—” 

You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant. 

She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow. 

“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.” 

“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud. 

“Long day?” 

You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.” 

“Did I stutter?”

You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.

“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.” 

“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.” 

Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop. 

He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?” 

You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers. 

You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.

“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”

“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.” 

Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.

“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.

“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.” 

Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands. 

“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.” 

“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.

You paused. “Yes?”

“He feels safe with you.” 

You blinked once. Twice. 

“Pardon?” 

Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.” 

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.” 

Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.” 

Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.

And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon. 

Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked. 

He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.

“It’s past three, brother.” 

Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey. 

“What?” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.” 

“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him. 

Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses. 

“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"

You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early. 

You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs. 

Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart. 

You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz. 

“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more. 

“Hmmm?” 

“Do you feel safe with me?” 

He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside. 

“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”

“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.” 

You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

Anyway, I've broken down the video into more easily digestible clumps under the cut. Time stamps and me yelling at him included.

0:42 "There's been a lot of different clashing labels and opinions about me on the internet over the past year; the loudest of which (on both sides of the fence) have been quite unhealthy, stemming from accusations made about me from just over a year ago."

Really crazy how he says "accusations" like he didn't confirm it on Twitter when it initially happened.

It's also interesting how he says "unhealthy," it's almost like he's calling the people saying it unhealthy, rather than his own actions.

0:53 "I'm not here to drop any bombshells- I don't want to reopen any old discussions. I responded to the situation in February of last year and I still stand by everything I said in that statement."

So we've gone from "accusations" to standing by his own statement. Ah okay.

1:05 "I understand it was misinterpreted by some people, probably due to my wording."

Oh okay. "Accusations" -> standing by his own statement -> OTHER people misinterpreted (well then why couldn't he make a follow up post of some kind?)

1:09 "I know some people are still looking for clarity- especially nowadays, where personal transparency is more common amongst content creators than it's ever been before.

Don't be shy, just say you were held accountable!

Also why is he saying "more common" "than it's ever been before" like that sldfkjs. It sounds like he's talking about a disease rather than being a decent human being.

1:17 "However, this clarity (the clarity I've offered to my close friends and my family) would mean publicly sharing deeply personal parts of my private life and my relationships with the internet. I've never been comfortable doing that and I don't believe that should be the cost of being understood."

You'd almost imagine that after about a year and a half of being radio silent, that he might've been comfortable at this point? But yeah no worries, Wilbur, because you don't need to post publicly!!! You don't need to have a platform!!

But gosh, he's so concerned about the audience having clarity. I'm 1:30 into the 6 minute video, I sure do hope the majority of the video isn't promotion. (Subtle foreshadowing)

But anyway, back to the video

1:32 "All I can say is that the labels that have been attributed to me by social media are not true, and I don't accept them."

Don't be shy, explain which labels. Say them.

1:39 "I don't believe in this expectation that content creators should use their platforms to attack and defend."

I love how he's using "attack and defend" to better portray himself as a wounded victim, rather than DIRECTLY hurting people to make them victims.

It's also funny how he's implying that he naturally deserves the right to be a content creator, and thus he shouldn't have to justify any of his actions ever, even if they were (by definition) harmful to others.

1:46 "I definitely don't think [attacking and defending on social media is] how serious accusations should be handled."

Well no, you don't believe in handling serious "accusations" in general. Don't be shy, mention any details about what happened. Imply a LITTLE bit about what you're referring to.

It's interesting how he's using the word "accusation" to escape any responsibility. It's like he's trying to gaslight people into thinking it never happened/was all a lie??

1:50 "I felt this way for a really long time now, having seen other content creators go through similar situations."

Don't be shy, mention what other content creators or kinds of situations. Are you referring to ones that were able to prove that it was a lie? Or are you referring to ones that took advantage of vulnerable people and didn't respect their boundaries, then expected complete respect on their platform?

I also enjoy another use of "situation." Maybe he got tired of saying "accusation" 10 trillion times, but the word has the exact same meaning lmaoo.

And btw, in case anyone thinks I'm being too sensitive about the literal meanings of words he's saying, I think he knows full well what kind of language he's using. In case anyone forgot, he really enjoyed writing/things having deep, philosophical meanings (him writing that dsmp fanfic, his fake crash outs, general monologues, etc.) So in my opinion, it's incredibly unlikely he's using these words by accident.

1:55 "I know it's not a perspective that's going to satisfy everyone, but it's one I can get behind, and I hope that makes sense to you."

No yeah, it makes sense. You're using this as a justification of your own actions so you don't view yourself in the wrong!!

Also "I hope that makes sense to you" sounds really... pathetic. More subtle victim card imo. He gets to sound innocent if people don't get it.

2:01 "None of this is me trying to dig up or dwell on the past here."

Nono, this isn't about "dwelling on the past." This is about acknowledging the actions he decided to take that ended up with people being hurt.

This feels like explaining basic morality to a toddler.

2:04 "I would just feel very strange if I carried on without at least acknowledging the past year."

Nah, I think it's common knowledge that people would be ???!!!! to coming back after 2 years of no uploads and very limited communication (RIGHT after the Shelby situation happened).

He just wants to point to the video and be like, "Look, I handled it there!!" Where he only calls the abuse a "situation" or "accusation" which links back to his Twitter where he's vague and "misinterpreted."

2:10 "All I can do now is move forward, and I hope you enjoy what I've been working on-"

Not gonna put any more. He's promoting Lovejoy and his channels for the most part.

He won't do much Minecraft anymore.

And small correction to my meme, he did say sorry once!! Oh um- it was about not playing Minecraft, not a serious apology or anything like that :)

[rika-mmendmethings]

・・・・LOVE AND DEEP SPACE・・・・

╰┈➤ Sylus 𓅇

_-🖋 Feline Hexes (one-shot; fluff, bf!Sylus)

A prolonged game of kitty cards angers the kitty gods, who curse Sylus to become a cat, which leads to a series of misadventures and an un-fur-gettable day.

_-🖋 Risqué Sketches (one-shot; smut, bf!Sylus)

You're an artist at heart with your boyfriend, Sylus, mostly being your choice of muse. What happens when he comes across a sketchbook that holds your innermost desires and has provocative drawings of him?

_-🖋 Against Blood and Water(series; angst with a happy ending, slowburn, strangers to lovers, reader is Luke and Kieran's bio mom)

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 I CH 6 COMING SOON

Seventeen years ago, your life had taken a turn for the worse when your newborn twins were separated from you by a cruel twist of fate. The same fate had led you to the N109 Zone, to your children who were all grown up now. Reconciliation with your boys would've been slightly easier had they somehow not acquired a father figure over the years who wasn't letting them go anytime soon.

_-🖋 Lethe Récords (one-shot; angst with no happy ending, the reader is a record shop owner, mc included)

In the forgotten shadows of N109, Lethe, a humble record shop, becomes a sanctuary for secrets and records. Amid its vinyl aisles, a quiet connection forms between the shopkeeper, you, and Sylus over choice of vinyl and trade of thoughts. But it had been just your delusion, for the woman beside him was just the proof of that.

_-🖋 Baby Boss-Man (or Boss Baby?) (one-shot; request; fluff, bf!Sylus)

One misfire of another one of Philip's odd inventions and Sylus is aged back to a five-year-old bundle of chaos version of himself. But as you try to survive his oversized cuteness, you can't help but catch baby fever. When the antidote arrives, you're sure that you'll be rid of those thoughts. The only difference is that Sylus intends to make them real.

_-🖋 Terms & Conditions Apply (series; mild angst with a happy ending; crime; cheating but not between the main leads; reader is Sylus and MC's baby's surrogate)

Prologue | CH 1 I CH 2 dropping on 10 July

What begins as a financial lifeline quickly transforms into an emotional labyrinth once you agree to become both the surrogate and ova donor for the Qin family. With an entire year remaining under their roof, you begin to unravel the hidden truths behind their seemingly perfect façade. Worse still, you find yourself confronted with things that were never outlined in the terms and conditions.

_-🖋 Belly Dance (one-shot, suggestive, fluff, bf! Sylus)

Sylus unearths a college-era belly dancing outfit during your move-in to his house. After you reluctantly agree to perform, his awe and love help you rediscover the fun, confident person you were. The night ends in passion and sensuality as Sylus shows you just how beautiful you have always been.

_-🖋 Death Comes For Us All (series, Goddess of Death! Reader x Sylus, mild angst with a happy ending, enemies to lovers, love triangle)

Prologue | HIATUS!

You, the Goddess of Death, are given six months to capture the one soul who's escaped countless times or give up your mantle. What begins as duty transforms into obsession as you chase the one deathless man because of a love-bound oath.

_-🖋 Req 2 halted for some time, I apologize.

╰┈➤ Rafayel 𓆝

_-🖋 Interdimensional Epiphany (series; heavy angst, slowburn, self!aware, fluff, slight smut)

CH 1 | CH 2 l CH 3 l CH 4 l CH 5 I CH 6 coming soon

A fortnight of compensated leave from your company was supposed to be a rejuvenating experience. Things take an unexpected turn when Rafayel, your choice of ML, starts becoming self-aware. His love knows no bounds, not even interdimensional ones.

_-🖋 Third Time's the Charm (one-shot, au, fluff, Idol! Rafayel x Idol! Reader)

Star-studded music shows, nosy cameras, misinterpreted gestures, and three different fated meetings between you and Rafayel.

╰┈➤ Caleb ✈︎

_-🖋 Mirage (series; heavy angst, enemies to lovers, slowburn, major character death(s), extreme violence, yandere themes)

CH 1 l CH 2 I CH 3 COMING SOON

In a world where power is survival's currency, you are a former top Colonel in the Farspace Fleet, now demoted to lieutenant colonel. You've lost your rank to Caleb, a newcomer who has taken your place. But when fate takes, it also gives. You discover that the man you despise is linked to the very organization you've been trying to expose for years. Yet, you find yourself being deterred from your mission as the line between loathe and love blurs.

_-🖋 One-shot releasing 🔜

╰┈➤ Xavier ⚔︎

_-🖋 Series 1 releasing third week of June

_-🖋 One-shot releasing 🔜

╰┈➤ Zayne ❄︎

_-🖋 Heart Shot (one-shot, Zayne x Nurse! Reader, lots of pre-relationship fluff)

It started as a coping mechanism — a secret, anonymous flirtation you expected to burn out with the help of a pink bow and silly notes. But every arrow you fire lands closer to something real — and the man you thought was untouchable suddenly isn’t dodging anymore.

_-🖋 Series 1 releasing third week of June

_-🖋 One-shot releasing 🔜

[centrally-unplanned]

There are two big "AI Art Discourse" events of note recently, which I thought were interesting: ACX's "AI Art Turing Test" and the new paper on "AI Poetry Beating Human Poetry". Both of these I think reveal the shape of "what is AI art for", and also say a lot about how these results were utilized in discourse.

To take the latter first, some academics quizzed people on some poetry and had these results:

We found that AI-generated poems were rated more favorably in qualities such as rhythm and beauty, and that this contributed to their mistaken identification as human-authored. Our findings suggest that participants employed shared yet flawed heuristics to differentiate AI from human poetry: the simplicity of AI-generated poems may be easier for non-experts to understand, leading them to prefer AI-generated poetry and misinterpret the complexity of human poems as incoherence generated by AI.

More human than human poems! This certainly seems impressive - and it is. You couldn't have gotten these results ~5 years ago. But that maybe doesn't mean as much as you might think? Because here is the opening half of the winning "Walt Whitman AI" Poem:

I hear the call of nature, the rustling of the trees, The whisper of the river, the buzzing of the bees, The chirping of the songbirds, and the howling of the wind, All woven into a symphony, that never seems to end. I feel the pulse of life, the beating of my heart, The rhythm of my breathing, the soul's eternal art, The passion of my being, that burns with fervent fire, The urge to live, to love, to strive, to reach up higher. I see the beauty all around, the glory of the earth, The majesty of mountains, the miracles of birth, The wonder of the cosmos, the mysteries of the stars, The poetry of existence, that echoes near and far

This fucking sucks. Straight up 2/10 poem. Did this bitch seriously establish the world's most predictable rhyme scheme only to try to rhyme wind with end? You had one job that you chose for yourself, and you screwed it up! This poem has been written a million times before, and says nothing - the Miley Cyrus lyrics of verse.

The reason this won is, yes, because AI tools have advanced heavily in the past few years. But it is also because it is being tested on a dead art. No one cares about poetry - certainly not the survey respondents:

We asked participants several questions to gauge their experience with poetry, including how much they like poetry, how frequently they read poetry, and their level of familiarity with their assigned poet. Overall, our participants reported a low level of experience with poetry: 90.4% of participants reported that they read poetry a few times per year or less, 55.8% described themselves as “not very familiar with poetry”, and 66.8% describe themselves as “not familiar at all” with their assigned poet. 

"Or less" is doing a LOT of work there; "yeah I read a few nonfiction books a year" oh sure, totally. 90% of these respondents haven't read a poem that wasn't displayed in the end credits of Minecraft since high school. No one does, poetry as a medium is essentially a relic. That isn't an insult to poets, by the way! There is no shame in being a niche. Not everyone can have the reach of hentai doujin artists; the community is small but they get a ton out of it. But you can't take the art of the community and expect that art to hit outside of it.

This survey didn't ask people to evaluate art; it asked people to evaluate their stereotypical impression of an art they don't care about. It was ~600 people hired off a website, they banged it out ASAP and moved on. This is not to invalidate the results; I am not actually claiming that "real" poets would have scored much better? Maybe, I don't know - that just isn't very relevant.

Let's swing to the AI Art Turing Test results to get more into why. Again, AI art is absolutely "art" in the sense that it is able to pass the test handily. You have to be head-in-the-sand at this point to think that AI can't make an impressionist painting a la the "most liked" art in this contest:

I have seen the "well real paintings have physicality this is a jpeg" discourse points and the cope couldn't be more real - 99% of art consumption in the modern world is digital or at least prints, let's get you back to bed grandma. But I did find it pretty funny that Scott noted this AI piece as one he particularly liked:

Because it is nonsensical, right? All that "faded paint", how was it originally painted - just bucket splashes of red and blue? What are those random doors, the random stairs going nowhere on the sides, the vague-nothings engravings? Scott just didn't care about that - he liked the vibe, right? Ancient ruins, epic scale. It isn't a coincidence that the Impressionist art did the best - current AI tools are always impressionist, they have an idea of the vibe and invent the details in between. In Impressionism that is the whole point.

Now the trap is to go "REAL artists can tell because of this or that" because idk, the tools might get better, they might fill in more and more details. The real revelation here is that you don't need the tools to get better - visual art isn't so different from poetry. Most people don't pay attention to it all that much. You see thousands, thousands of pieces of art a week; you probably don't even realize how many. Do you really care if the fading paint makes coherent sense on a billboard ad or a doctor's office wall painting? So much art that is made is "industrial" in this sense - it has no need to be good. Only good enough to fulfill its utilitarian role. In these fields AI absolutely is going to Take Your Jobs in some form, and already is (though imo not a ton of them). And it won't really bother most people. This can go pretty deep - I promise you people are "utilizing" AI porn right now. They are ~appreciating the details~ way more than is typical, the product is working.

All this works until it doesn't, though. When it is an art book by a favourite artist whose vision you want to pour over, learning that all the individual details were just made by AI completely defeats the purpose, right? Imagine reading a book of these poems. Outside of the novelty, "AI is the point" factor you would rather watch infomercials on repeat, I can't imagine a more pointless use of my time. "Reading arbitrary poems" is never fun, regardless of the quality of the poems. Most people don't care about poetry! The reason you care is that you care about the poet, and what they want to say. You read poetry with context, it being inserted with intent into the pages of a manga, at the end of a video game, because you like the artist and follow them on twitter. The quality of the prose isn't more important than that.

Which is a harsh limit for all of these kinds of tests. They essentially aren't testing art, right? You do not ever get paid twenty bucks to sit down and read a dozen poems and score them. That has no bearing on how you would actually ever learn to care about a poem. Which doesn't make AI art useless or anything, more that these tests will very quickly run into their limits of what they can meaningfully tell you. The actual bar is "creating something someone cares about". From that lens, I fully believe hybrid methods that privilege artistic intent are currently working and will improve. But I think for "solo" AI art getting that to work is going to be complicated.

[takes1]

p.2 bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

warnings. nsfw. m!masturbation at the end. midterms mentioned. minors DNI content. misinterpretation of emotions. tsukki not knowing how to handle a crush. enemies to lovers. or maybe enemies with benefits, i haven't decided yet. manager!reader. tsukki being so incredibly horny. tsukki not understanding facial expressions. sexual frustration. male masturbation + implied previous. kiyoko being a friend. yachi being a friend. 1.7k words notes. 3 more parts planned! ask to be added to the taglist if you don't want to miss one! links. PART ONE HERE. PART THREE . PART FOUR. FINAL PART. masterlist for mha. my ao3. masterlist for haikyuu

Despite your iced latte being mostly just water by now, you still sucked it down in desperation to get every ounce of caffeine you could. Midterms were just around the corner and one of your most difficult classes involved writing a 10-page scientific paper.

You had the whole semester to do it, so the dread you felt now was the amalgamation of months' worth of opportunity that you could've and should've used to work on it.

Thankfully, you didn't have to churn the majority of this thing out alone.

"What the hell does ameliorate mean." Kiyoko asked, though her soft frustration was starting to sound more like a statement now.

Yachi took every opportunity she could to stop doing her work, including this one. For her, there was less pressure to do perfectly on her finals since she had another two years to get those top marks.

She scanned her laptop screen for a moment, lips perched on the lid of her strawberry refresher: "Ameliorate means... To... make something bad or unsatisfactory better."

Kiyoko muttered something about how it still didn't make sense. Of course it wouldn't- she was taking an organic chemistry course.

The plan as it stood now was to rot in this spot all day until hunger moved you, so you all made an event out of it by putting on something cute, grabbing some coffees and pastries from a cafe nearby, and settling into this local library.

It wasn't planned, but you all simultaneously chose to wear skirts and cute summer tops. The mutual reaction of humor helped ease the pain of having to study all day. Suffering together was preferable to suffering alone.

The chance finally came again to stretch your legs and find another vaguely relevant reference to add to your bibliography.

With a rewarding, careful stretch, you rose out of your chair and took your time walking up and down the aisles to find something to support the fifth theory you'd written about so far.

Midterms were one stressor, but you weren't afforded the privilege of having tunnel vision over it.

Qualifiers were just around the corner, and you had the Tokyo training camp to prepare a load of equipment and personnel logs for.

As you selected a thick novel from a shelf above your head, you let out a small sigh.

The front matter described a concept you could start to look into and fluff up to your liking for the paper. Your mind fell back to the team, and how you wanted to do well on these exams so you'd have less to worry about going to Tokyo.

The side of your face was growing warm, probably from the East-facing window to your left, so you raised the back of a cold hand to cool yourself down.

You were just deciding to take this book back when, in the process of dropping your hand, you caught a blur of blond hair and glasses in the corner of your eye.

Your stomach jolted, heart starting to race, and an uncontrollable surprise took over your features.

Tsukishima was sitting, leaned over a table on his elbows, his head twisted all the way to the side to look at you over his shoulder.

You quickly looked back to the shelf and sucked in a breath. God, that must've looked so lame- you regretted every millisecond of that reaction and prayed he wouldn't ever bring it up.

He hated you. You didn't want anything to do with him. There was no pleasant exchange to get out of saying hello, or even acknowledging each other. It's not like you were friends.

Why was he even here? You started to get worried, but realized that he did ride the same train back with you after practice in the evenings.

Now you were really remembering. He got off one stop before yours and always moved to create the most space possible between you. You usually didn't see him again until he got off. Even then, you didn't care enough to look for him anymore.

You glanced back to him, expecting to now have to speak to him after you'd exchanged a mutual acknowledgment of each other's presence.

He was staring. But... that wasn't exactly the right word for it.

He was distracted. You wondered if he knew who you were, because you'd never seen him stare at you for more than a few seconds.

His brow wasn't pinched like usual. It was relaxed- in fact, everything about him was relaxed. The way his head was held in his hand, the loose grasp on his pencil, the subtle part of his lips. The lazy, yet measured scan of his eyes.

There was a reddish tint at the tips of his ears and highest points of his cheeks. It was astoundingly easy to notice, since he was so fair-skinned.

A strong chill ran up your spine when he finally made eye contact with you. Even then, it took a glance down to the book clasped against your chest, then back up for him to really notice your gaze and stiffen right up.

That new side of him vanished in an instant. It was replaced with a brief, stone-cold glower before he turned back to his own midterm work.

On the stiff walk back to your table, you smoothed your skirt out and pulled on the edge a bit before sitting back down.

It took a minute of silent sitting to even begin to unpack what you felt.

"Do I look stupid?"

Yachi instantly piped up, "Of course not! You're very pretty!"

"You really shouldn't waste your breath asking," Kiyoko glanced up at you.

It was brief but it rested your immediate insecurities.

"Why?" Yachi, once again, wanted nothing more than to just hang out and talk.

Another surge of chills. It was sickening.

You put your head in your hands, elbows on the table. "Mm-mm, it's just-..." You thought to tell them, but held back at the last second, "I dunno."

Another big sigh and you were back to typing to take your mind off of it. You'd have plenty of time to see what this spun into once you were free from this academic prison. It was too confusing right now.

Kiyoko didn't read into it, but Yachi lingered until 1) it was obvious you simply didn't want to disclose and 2) an abnormally tall boy from school walked past your table. She watched him watch you on his way towards the exit.

Her eyes narrowed with keen intuition.

the keen intuition in question:

Kei felt himself practically melt against the closed door of his bedroom. Breathless from a difficult and quick walk home, he fumbled with the tie of his sweatpants and the lock on the door concurrently.

"Finally," He sighed with a desperate laugh, "Fuck..."

His bag hit the floor with a sharp and careless thump. He stepped over it and fell onto his back on his mattress, a long arm stretched toward his side table for some lotion.

It was useless trying to study after that. Library or home, it didn't matter unless he could fuck this one out.

This time he didn't have to stalk your Instagram to spark his imagination; it was already running rampant with filthy ideas of what he'd do to you in that short skirt.

An ignored, aching erection sprang out of his waistband as he pushed it down and out of the way.

Light grey sweatpants had (for the first time in his life) ended up being a shit idea. All he could worry about on the 20 minute walk back was if anyone could see the tip of his cock tucked up just under his shirt.

Every shirt was too short. Every pair of pants was too big in the middle.

His slippery hand was beautiful relief. He was quick to get himself lubricated, and quicker to pump in slow, twisting motions to the image of you reaching, reaching, reaching up to that book on your tippy toes.

All the worry in his tight brow washed away in crashing waves of steady-growing pleasure.

Soon he didn't care about the harrowing journey home, the threat of midterms, nor the growing dread of that training camp.

It was just you.

It felt like fate that he got the only chance anyone might ever have to see the curve of your ass just under the hem of your skirt. You were able to get that book all too quickly.

If everything were different, he would've gotten it for you. You would've thanked him, kissed him on the cheek- he would've pulled you in for a heated, raunchy kiss with a hand palming you closer. He would've savored the view of you spread on the table for him -homework long forgotten- and his massive hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. It was a library, after all.

He seethed and stalled for a moment--, "a-ahh- Mm..."

His cock twitched hard with the need to cum, but he stopped just soon enough.

An oversized hand was holding the base; he looked at his other dry one, then closed his eyes in an eager but fruitless attempt to visualize just how they'd look on your thighs. Fuck, anywhere at this point.

Just one touch, that's all he wanted. He never let himself get close enough to even consider it, but my god, the internal struggle he made to stay away was commendable.

His tight, lightly sweaty stomach flexed with effort as he slowed down again.

You were so quick to switch up when it came to him. He could tell he had a special place in your heart, the way your lips pursed into a small frown and your eyes narrowed when he tested you.

It was out-of-this-world cute from his vantage point. A smile might just kill him.

"Mmm, fu-ck," He croaked, mind circling back to today.

His chest swelled with a shaky inhale- he smirked at the thought of you finding out about his terrible secret, how you would punish him for his unprofessional behavior. You were so pretty when you got mad.

The breath caught in his throat. He wasn't even thinking about the skirt when he finally came all over his stomach. Just that pretty face of yours did it for him.

taglist:

@hotvinimon @cyzvx @aloveablechaos @kozumesphone

thanks for the support!!

reply to be added!

[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

❃ FLUFFCEMBER 2024 ❃

day 10: chocolate — franco colapinto x reader

note: i love franco he’s my favourite rookie (after fernando of course) and one of my favourite current drivers. hope he’ll get a good seat for ‘26 at least, he deserves it <3

fluffcember masterlist | main masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You found a job in a little cafeteria to make some money during your college years, and you loved it. The timetables were perfect and your coworkers were very nice. As Christmastime was getting closer, you decorated the place all together. It ended up very cute.

One day you were serving some trusted costumers when you locked eyes with a boy coming in the cafeteria. Honestly, it was quite impossible not to notice him. He was probably the prettiest boy that cafe had ever seen. Brown curly hair, soft striking features and a lean physique. He also had a familiar face, like you had seen him somewhere already.

He got near the bar counter, as you pretended you weren’t looking at his every movement with the corner of your eye. You faked interest on the tv turned on the news: “As The Formula 1 2024 season comes to an end, Ferrari is ready to welcome the seven times world champion Lewis Hamilton, while the Redbull team’s future remains uncertain….”

He was definitely staring. Damn.

When you finished with the other clients, you walked in front of him. “Hello, what can I do for you?”

He leaned on the counter. “Other than give me your number, you mean?” He said, revealing a strong Spanish accent.

Oh, so you hadn’t misinterpreted. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help a smile. “Wow, not even asking my name first.”

“Easily skipped, Y/N.” He pointed to the card pinned on your uniform. Right.

“And yours?”

“Guess it.” He smirked, playfully.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you like… an actor or something?”

He shook his head. “No, but I get why my appearance may have deceived you.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, sure. So, would you like something to drink?”

“A hot chocolate.” He looked around the place and his gaze stopped on a table. “I’m gonna seat there, waiting for it. And for your number, hopefully.” He winked, then paid for his order and went to sit down.

You carefully crafted the best hot chocolate you’ve ever prepared for someone while watching the news.

“This year has definitely brought us many surprised, one of them being the young talented Argentinian driver Franco Colapinto, put in the Williams seat mid-season…”

Your calm expression turned into shocked when the tv showed the face of the driver, which was the same as the boy’s sat in your cafeteria. You were not wrong, you had obviously seen him before.

You served him his hot chocolate, with whipped cream, some extra cookies, sugar and all. “This is for you.”

“Wonderful.” His green eyes shined looking at his drink.

“And also this,” You put a napkin with your number written on it beside the cup. “Franco.”

Franco raised his gaze to meet yours. “Ah, you found out.”

You shrugged. “Or maybe I just guessed.” You turned around and went back to work. You didn’t miss him saving the number on his phone.

[dresshistorynerd]

It's great when you start reading an only 10 year old doctoral thesis about 18th century undergarments and it starts with this sentence:

"In the sixteenth century, few Europeans wore undergarments; by the nineteenth century, undergarments were commonplace."

How can you start your doctoral thesis with such a wrong sentence?? Yeah apparently undergarments became common during the 18th century when linen became more available. Since we all know before that linen was not readily available in Europe. (It's not as if both flax and hemp fabrics were called linen and peasantry had at least access to hemp and therefore coarse linen.) Like even one of the two sources she cites talked extensively about usage of linen undergarments since Medieval Era (I only skimmed through that thought, it's a book, not an article). She cited two at least 30 year old books (by this point), not academic papers. Both of these writers were cultural historians, not dress historians btw. The evidence for this claim she has put forward by this point (maybe she'll have some better evidence later on but I can't imagine what it would be since I know based on plenty of primary source evidence this claim is simply not true) is that 17th century historical accounts refer even nobility as owning only few shifts when accounts from 19th century talk about dozens of shifts. Which is not in fact evidence of undergarments not being used by everyone. It's evidence that before 18th century people didn't feel the need to have so many undergarments, and perhaps that owning way too many garments wasn't seen as a status symbol like it came to be seen.

There were also other very weird claims (I haven't read through it fully, but by the point I have reached). One of these was that during 18th century underwear became more visible, which is not true, I would argue it was much more visible in 17th and 16th centuries, when it was very fashionable to show the long billowy sleeves of the shift in some ways (by having short sleeves on the outer garment or by having slit sleeves for example). At some places in Europe, for example Italy and parts of Germany, during the 16th century it was fashionable to have underboob outer gown and have your boobs only covered by the shift or partlet. And like bodies, which evolved into stays in 18th century was worn more commonly on it's own as a casual outer wear sometimes. Stays were sometimes worn like this still in the 18th century, especially by lower classes, but they were becoming increasingly more covered. So like this claim makes no sense to me. It was also sourced to a book about 20th century lingerie by a social scientist (not a dress historian) to it's intro pages.

Another claim was that panniers probably evolved from stage costumes with stiffened petticoats, when Spain and it's continued use of farthingale in court fashion (even exaggeratedly wide style during 17th century already) is right there.

I'm so tired at the state of dress history scholarship. These historians, who are not specialized in dress history and have not done independent research into extant examples and visual representations, simply misinterpret historical writings outside their context in material culture and repeat claims made by older historians whose writings are full of old misconceptions. This is why you need at least some basic understanding of the dress history as a whole, it isn't enough to understand broader historical context, the context of dress history is also crucial. If you know this little about 16th and 17th century fashions, how can you properly understand the changes in 18th century and crucially why they happened? Actual good research seems to be some accident you occasionally come across.

[geminialchemist]

As far as I understand, people have been shipping Holmes and Watson for as long as the two characters have existed, even in ye olden times.

Which makes me wonder about the Great Ace Attorney series, where Sholmes and Wilson’s adventures are stories that Susato loves and follows religiously. And she probably shipped it. She probably had elaborate fantasies about it.

Then she meets Sholmes, and finds out that rather than John H. Wilson being the author of the stories, it’s a 10 year old Iris, and she probably feels very gross for interpreting it as romantic.

And then Susato sighs in relief when Iris reveals she’s been basing the stories off her father’s notes about his time living and solving cases with Sholmes. Her ship is saved! Maybe. There is still a very dead man named John H. Wilson, but they can’t confirm that’s the same one who solved mysteries with Sholmes.

And then Susato finds out there never was a Wilson. Iris misinterpreted someone else’s notes as being written by Wilson, who she believes to be her father, and instead it was Susato’s own father, Yujin, who was Sholmes’ partner the whole time.

So Susato discovers she’s actually been shipping Sholmes with her own father the whole time and is mortified.

(She still kinda ships it.)

[random-blurbs]

Hi I just found your blog and omg love your writing!! 10/10!! Would it be ok if I hear your thoughts or hcs on Mark but how do you think he would treat his darling if there were different species ? (Like human , mega human or an alien ?) (I’m fine with female or gn reader ^^) please 🙏

A/n: Aww thanks I appreciate reading that!! ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯

In my very professional and correct opinion - I really don’t think Mark gives a fuck if that makes sense. Like if he’s interested in you and you got a solid personality man is willing to be your #1 cheerleader. Human or not man is just happy to be there, if anything he would be mad curious wanting to know every detail about you. Which can be good for late night talks lol

So have my headcannons!!

Mark x Alien!Reader

- “Wait is that like regular you, or your costume?” He apologizes every time he remembers his first words to you when he thought he was fighting a villain recognizing how he might need to check his words from now on.

- “You didn’t know Mark it’s fine.” Even after all the apologies he always takes you out for a sweet treat every time he remembers wanting to see a smile on your face, and not hate him for his words. (Which you can never do)

- If you ever want to win an argument you always pull that card, effectively making him shut up and get on his knees to apologize.

- Without you knowing he has made a list of all your little quirks in his note apps, never wanting to forget something that can make you feel out of place with your time on Earth.

- He was always so curious where you came from, as he admired the gold lines streaking your body, it was a delicate set of patterns that glow when you’re feeling too much of one emotion. And the singular twirly antenna sprout you have on the top of your head made it hard for him to not fall for you, weirdly so. All of this effectively made you stick out when you’re walking down the streets as you’re usually beaming, a walking star practically.

-It hurts his eyes, like really bad (he’ll never tell you this) so by the end of the day he’s squinting at his mom trying to recall the moments he had good vision

- Everytime people give him the solution of sunglasses he shoots it down, wanting to embrace every part of you… even if it blinds him

- You forced him to wear sunglasses ever since you saw his trash piled with eye drops

- “How do you not find them cute?” He asked shocked, looking up at you with a scooped up kitten in his arms. “These ‘things’ are demons on my planet practically.” You say bluntly, shivering at the cat-infested home you remembered you left. Misinterpreting your words as 100% truth; whenever there’s a cat nearby he scoops you up with so much panic you always assume you’re being under attacked. But in fact it was just him throwing you over his shoulder and hauling ass away from the cat.

- He likes feeling the difference between your skin, and the gold plates practically etched onto your body feeling the difference in texture. He likes hearing the noise when he taps on it hearing a clank every time making him chuckle.

-If we’re being honest he can keep himself entertained for a good hour just doing that with every part of your body.

-He still loves and cherishes it didn’t matter what you are. He loves the crinkle your eyes do whenever you smile, the way you wear your emotions free for everyone to see never ashamed of who you were.

- You being so in tune with your emotions, you always help him understand his own considering everything he goes through, glad you’re by him through it all.

- It was a burning question every time he sees your antenna bouncing around. He needs to ask. But would he offend? He doesn’t want to. But the curiosity is killing him.

- It took him a year to ask you.

- “If like…… someone cuts your antenna do you die?”

- You couldn’t help but give him massive side-eye as you try to see if he’s holding an unknown pair of scissors. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

- “It’s not like I was going to cut it!”

- “You said it so suspiciously can you blame me!”

- You don’t die if it’s cut. (Much to your own relief whenever you see Mark holding scissors)

- He’s glad that you never joined the hero scene much to Cecil’s dismay considering he knows what’s going to happen if you do.

-Everyone is going to love you, see how beautiful you are, fall in love and there’s never going to be enough time to be one another, and you’ll leave him to rot. And he really wouldn’t want to resort to locking you in his closet so he’s grateful you’re all his.

-That’s what he says atleast as you gave him an unimpressed look at his dramatics.

- “That wouldn’t happen.”

- “You don’t know that.”

- He adores and practically kisses the floor you walk on, never feeling luckier to be called your boyfriend.

- If you get Mark to love you human or not he would do anything in his power to make you the happiest person in the planet.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Worker misclassification is a competition issue

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/2024/02/02/upward-redistribution/#bedoya

The brains behind Trump's stolen Supreme Court have detailed plans: they didn't just scheme to pack the court with judges who weren't qualified for – or entitled to – a SCOTUS life-tenure, they also set up a series of cases for that radical court to hear.

Obviously, Dobbs was the big one, but it's only part of a whole procession of trumped-up cases designed to give the court a chance to overturn decades of settled law and create zones of impunity for America's oligarchs and the monopolies that provide them with wealth and power.

One of these cases is Jarkesy, a case designed to allow SCOTUS to euthanize every agency in the US government, stripping them of their powers to fight corporate crime:

https://www.americanprogress.org/article/sec-v-jarkesy-the-threat-to-congressional-and-agency-authority/

The argument goes, "Congress had the power to spell out every possible problem an agency might deal with and to create a list of everything they were allowed to do about these problems. If they didn't, then the agency isn't allowed to act."

This is an Objectively Very Stupid argument, and it takes a heroic act of motivated reasoning to buy it. The whole point of expert agencies is that they're experts and that they might discover new problems in American life, and come up with productive ways of fixing them. If the only way for an agency to address a problem is to wait for Congress to notice it and pass a law about it, then we don't even need agencies – Congress can just be the regulator, as well as the lawmaker.

If there was any doubt that Congress created the agencies as flexible and adaptive hedges against new threats and problems, then the legislative history of the FTC Act should dispel it.

Congress created the FTC through the FTCA because the courts kept misinterpreting its existing antitrust laws, like the Sherman Act. Companies would engage in the most obvious acts of naked, catastrophic fuckery, and judges would say, "Welp, because Congress didn't specifically ban this conduct, I guess it's OK."

So Congress created the FTC with an Act that included a broad authority to investigate and punish "unfair methods of competition." They didn't spell these out – instead, they explicitly said (in Section 5) that it was the FTC's job to determine whether something was unfair, and to act on it:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

The job of the FTC is to investigate unfair conduct before it becomes such a problem that Congress takes action, and to head that conduct off so that it never rises to the level of needing Congressional intervention.

Now, it's true that since the Reagan years, the FTC has grown progressively less interested in using this power, but that's broadly true of all of America's corporate watchdogs. But as the public all over the world has grown ever more furious about corporate abuses and oligarchic wealth, governments everywhere have rediscovered their role as a public protector.

In America, the Biden administration altered the course of history with the appointment of new enforcers in the key anti-monopoly agencies: the FTC and the DOJ's antitrust division. But more importantly, the Biden admin created a detailed, technical plan to use every agency's powers to fight monopoly, in a "whole of government" approach:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

Now, this can give rise to seeming redundancies. Take labor issues. The NLRB is a (potentially) powerful regulator that had been in a coma for decades, but has awoken and taken up labor rights with a fervor and cunning that is a delight to behold:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

At the same time, the FTC has also taken up labor rights, using its much broader powers to do things like ban noncompetes nationwide, unshackling workers from bosses who claim the right to veto who else they can work for:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal

But the NLRB doesn't make the FTC redundant, or vice-versa. The NLRB's role is principally reactive, punishing wrongdoing after it occurs. But the FTC has the power to intervene in incipient harms, labor abuses that have not yet risen to the level of NLRB enforcement or new acts of Congress.

This case is made beautifully in Alvaro Bedoya's speech "'Overawed': Worker Misclassification as a Potential Unfair Method of Competition," delivered to the Law Leaders Global Summit in Miami today:

https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/Overawed-Speech-02-02-2024.pdf

Bedoya describes why the FTC has turned its attention to the problem of "worker misclassification," in which employees are falsely claimed to be contractors, and thus deprived of the rights that workers are entitled to. Worker misclassification is rampant, and it transfers billions from workers to employers every year. As Bedoya says, 10-30% of employers engage in worker misclassification, allowing them to dodge payment for overtime, Social Security, workers' comp, unemployment insurance, healthcare, retirement and even a minimum wage. Each misclassified worker is between $6k-18k poorer thanks to this scam – a typical misclassified worker sees a one third decline in their earning power. And, of course, each misclassified worker's boss is $6k-$18k richer because of this scam.

It's not just wages, it's workplace safety. One of the most dangerous jobs in the country is construction worker, and worker misclassification is rampant in the sector. That means that construction workers are three times more likely than other workers to lack health insurance.

What's more, misclassified workers can't form unions, because their bosses' fiction treats them as independent contractors, not employees, which means that misclassified construction workers can't join trade unions and demand health-care, or safer workplaces.

Contrast this with, say, cops, who have powerful "unions" that afford them gold-plated health care and lavish compensation, even for imaginary ailments like "contact overdoses" from touching fentanyl – a medical impossibility that still entitles our nation's armed bureaucrats to handsome public compensation:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/27/extraordinary-popular-delusions/#onshore-havana-syndrome

Cops have far safer jobs than construction workers, but cops don't get misclassified, so they are able to collect benefits that no other worker – public or private – can hope for.

Not every employer wants to cheat and maim their employees, of course. In Bedoya's speech, he references Sandie Domando, an executive VP at a construction company in Palm Beach Gardens. Domando's company keeps its employees on its books, giving them health-care and other benefits. But when she started bidding against rival firms for jobs funded by the covid stimulus, she couldn't compete – two thirds of those jobs went to other firms that were able to put in cheaper bids. Those bids were cheaper because they were defrauding their workers by misclassifying them. Thus, publicly funded projects were overwhelmingly handed over to fraudulent companies. Fraud becomes a fitness-factor for winning jobs. It's a market for lemons – among employers.

Employee misclassification is a pure transfer from workers to bosses. Bedoya recounts the story of Samuel Talavera, Jr, a short-haul trucker who worked for decades in the Port of Los Angeles. For decades, his job paid well: enough to support his family and even take his kids to Disneyland now and again.

But in 2010, his employer reclassified him as a contractor. They ordered him to buy a new truck – which they financed on a lease-purchase basis – and put him to work for 16 hours stretches in shifts lasting as much as 20 hours per day. Talavera couldn't pick his own hours or pick his routes, but he was still treated as an independent contractor for payroll and labor protection purposes.

This lead to an terrible decline in Talavera's working conditions. He gave up going home between shifts, sleeping in his cab instead. His pay dropped through the floor, thanks to junk-fees that relied on the fiction that he was a contractor. For example, his boss started to charge him rent on the space his truck took up while he was standing by for a job at the port. Other truckers at the port saw paycheck deductions for the toilet-paper in the bathrooms!

Talavera's take-home pay dropped so low that he was bringing home a weekly wage of $112 or $33 (one week, his pay amounted to $0.67). His wife had to work three jobs, and they still had to declare bankruptcy to avoid losing their home. When Talavera's truck needed repairs he couldn't afford, his boss fired him and took back the truck, and Talavera was out the $78,000 he'd paid into it on the lease-purchase plan.

This story – and the many, many others like it from the Port of LA – paint a clear picture of the transfer of wealth from workers to their bosses that comes with worker misclassification. The work that Talavera did in the Port of LA didn't get less valuable when he was misclassified – but the share of that value that Talavera received dropped to as little as $0.67/week.

Worker misclassification is rampant across many sectors, but its handmaiden is technology. The fiction of independence is much easier to maintain when the fine-grained employer-employee control is mediated by an app (think of Uber):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

That's why those scare-stories that AI trucks were going to make truckers obsolete and create an employment crisis were such toxic nonsense. Not only are we unlikely to see self-driving trucks, but the same investors that back AI technology are making bank on companies that practice worker misclassification through the "it's not a crime if we do it with an app" gambit:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

By focusing our attention on a hypothetical employment crisis that will supposedly be caused by future AI developments, tech investors can distract us from the real employment crisis that's created by app-enabled worker misclassification, which is also the source of much of the capital they're plowing into AI.

That's why the FTC's work on misclassification is so urgent. Misclassification is a scam that hurts workers and creates oligarchic power – and it's also a mass-extinction event for good companies that don't cheat their workers, because those honest companies can't compete.

Worker misclassification is having a long-overdue and much needed moment. The revolutionary overthrow of the rotten old leadership at the Teamsters was caused, in part, by a radical wing that promised to focus the Teamsters' firepower on fighting worker misclassification:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/19/hoffa-jr-defeated/#teamsters-for-a-democratic-union

This has become a focus of labor organizers all around the world, as worker misclassification-via-smartphone has infected labor markets everywhere:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/22/kropotkin-graeber/#an-injury-to-one

Bedoya's speech is a banger, and it reminds us that labor rights and anti-monopoly have always been part of the same project: to rein in corporate power and protect workers from the insatiable greed of the capital class:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

[barbatusart]

so back when we were wrapping up SAD SACK i hid a cypher in the final page that when decoded would lead to a carrd site with a bunch of strange writings for a fictional religion + conlang stuff, unfortunately i hid it too good & nobody ever found it LOL & now that it's been over 5 years im honestly fine to just post it! below is a creation myth for the mots from uhhhhhhhh 2019, it was fun to try writing in real Ye Olde style. if you follow along with my other comic prelims ive posted, some of these names might look familiar!

disclaimer also, the fake religion in question is meant to be a misinterpretation of old extinct canaanite creeds where the folks who made it only had limited access to the already limited source materials + other writings from around the time period from different regions, so there is a Lot of cultural mishmash in here that i thought would reflect how people would actually mix and match the elements, similar to some modern day religions. just heads up!

1 The Earth began as Sea, Moon, and Stars. 2 The Sun emerged from the Moon, as through a window, and the Sun was in truth the LORD, come from a distant place in Heaven.

3 The LORD was weary and stopped to quench His thirst in the Sea, but the brine was sour and caused Him to be sick in the waters. 4 From His gorge and out of the Sea rose His organs, and They took shape and walked forth as his Brothers.

5 From the Sea rose the first Brother, clothed in robes of peridot, and at His left hip a crimson khopesh. 6 He looked upon the infinite Sea, and He breathed forth life unto the waters - fishes of every color, sprawling flora, and the people of the deep. 7 The LORD saw the wisdom of Heaven in his eyes, and the LORD called His name: BAAL KHASIS.

8 Then rose the second Brother, clothed in robes of emeralds, and in His left hand a crimson skinning blade. 9 He looked upon the people of the deep, and he breathed forth land, to split the Earth into above and below, as is Heaven and Earth. The Sea birthed clouds that crowned the lands, clouds that raged and spit cacophonous lightning and fresh sweet water, and the people of the deep migrated landwards. 10 The LORD saw the Earth's newborn storms in His eyes, and the LORD called His name: BAAL HADAD.

11 Then rose the third Brother, clothed in robes of golden topaz, and at His left eye a crimson maul. 12 He looked upon the land, and He breathed forth time - the sunrise and sunset, the seasons, the years, and old age. 13 The LORD saw the encroaching night in His eyes, and the LORD called His name: BAAL SHALIM.

14 Then rose the fourth brother, clothed in robes of pearls, and in His left mouth a crimson saw blade. 15 He looked upon the night, and He breathed forth coherence to the stars, the mighty constellations, the waxing and waning of the holy Moon, how it pulled the Sea's tides and bathed the shores. 16 The LORD saw the light of the Moon in His eyes, and the LORD called His name: BAAL YARIKH.

17 The LORD's Brothers produced for Him clothing of citrine to hide His nakedness. 18 And from His mouth the LORD poured the Sun's fire which He would fashion into any weapon of His choosing. 19 The LORD's brothers saw the infinite of all in His eyes, and They called His name: BAAL MUTH.

20 Then the five LORDS stepped into the Stars aside the Moon, above the lands and Sea, and They anointed themselves the LORDS of the Earth.

21 The Moon reflected BAAL MUTH's light and bathed the Earth's newborn land, and the LORDS' Shadows were formed on the land - weak, foul, and frail, each with one eye and half blind. 22 It angered the LORDS to see weakness in Their shapes, and They made war with their Shadows.

23 The first Shadow was Cacrinolas, a wicked man-faced wolfdog with the wings of an eagle. He opened his mouth and projected forth curses at the LORDS. 24 BAAL KHASIS's Brothers fell upon him in fury to tear the wings from his back. 25 With His burning khopesh, BAAL KHASIS beheaded Cacrinolas, and He cast the head into the Sea, 26 and He placed his wings into the Stars, so that they would become the celestial Nabu. But his grasp was not complete, and feathers of Cacrinolas fell loose and landed on the Moon.

27 The second Shadow was Forai, a vile beast with the head of a bull and innumerable hands. He opened his mouth and projected forth pleas for mercy so as to make the LORDS have pity. 28 But BAAL HADAD's Brothers fell upon him in turn to cut out his pleading tongue and take his hands from him. 29 With his burning skinning blade, BAAL HADAD removed Forai's genitals, and with his own hands Forai's heart, and He cast the genitals, the tongue, and the hands into the Sea, 30 and He placed his heart into the Stars, so that they would become the celestial Inanna. But unsteady were his hands, and the heart's blood fell and landed on the Moon.

31 The third Shadow Botis, a man-faced wayward serpent with a mouth of viper's fangs and a tail of rattling swords. He opened his mouth and projected forth poison from his fangs so as to make the LORDS sleep. 32 But BAAL SHALIM's Brothers fell upon him a moment before, to feed him his own poison and to take his fangs from his mouth. 33 With his burning maul, BAAL SHALIM broke Botis' skull in twain so that his brains ran free, and He cast the brains into the Sea, 34 and He placed his fangs into the Stars, so that they would become the celestial Ugarit. But His aim was not true, and one fang fell and landed on the Moon.

35 The fourth Shadow was Tuvres, a chimera with the body of both man and warhorse. So profane and so powerful was Tuvries that BAAL YARIKH's four Brothers could only restrain the beast and take from him his voice before he could speak, 36 so that BAAL YARIKH Himself could wield his burning saw blade and open his equine body to remove his entrails. 37 BAAL YARIKH beheaded Tuvres, and He cast the voice and the entrails into the Sea, 38 and He placed his head into the Stars, so that they would become the celestial Suen. But His grasp failed Him, and the head of Tuvres landed on the Moon.

39 So engulfed with wrath was BAAL MUTH, to see the holy Moon's light dimmed by such heavy handedness, such clumsiness, such carelessness. 40 So enraged was the LORD that his fire burned so hot as to burn even his Brothers. 41 So loud His roar, as though meant to crack the walls of Heaven itself. 42 The LORD BAAL MUTH opened His endless mouth, from where all things come and where all things return, where sound and light extinguish, where time folds inward, and He consumed His Brothers one by one.

[shewhoeatssand]

@tokyoghoulartfight2025 character submission: Iyu 苺由 🍓

this is my self insert °>° schoolgirl who likes Kaneki very much

Name: Iyu, Sandy

Age: 12-16

Born: some point a while ago (sorry the age is a bit weird, she tends to be “whatever would appeal to Kaneki most right now”)

Education: Graduated year 10 !! still in school, but this is flexible

Gender: female

Species: human

Size: 157cm*43kg

Blood-type: o (can donate to Kaneki! ❤️)

Likes: Kaneki, anything Kaneki does ever, rice, rocks, ponds, plants, birds, fish, finding ceramics that “look like Kaneki”, stickers, strawberry, pink, milk tea, tapioca

Favorite Literature:

Whatever Kaneki is reading right now - she doesn’t understand any of it because she only knows like 5 kanji. Literally just likes it for Kaneki

Basic Japanese - A Grammar And Workbook. She borrowed this book from the library for 10 weeks to study Japanese, used it very occasionally and then reluctantly returned it to the library because she felt bad for hoarding it. Has not seen it since despite multiple visits. She misses it so bad

nature books that aren’t overly complex

Sexuality: complicated but attracted to Kaneki

Hobbies: drawing, long videos while doing other things (semi-educational), minecraft creative mode, thinking about Kaneki, learning Japanese but specifically during completely unrelated classes without structured time

Personality: (I’m not very good at these sorry) Likes to be creative and is good at tying unrelated topics back to things like Kaneki in order to focus. Will think outside the box, but sometimes this is because she misinterprets where the box is. She has a unique way of speaking and communicating with others, and often struggles when talking to strangers or people she doesn’t know well because of this. Strength of the Kaneki obsession fluctuates between “hold on why do I like him again” and “God made the whole Earth especially for him because he’s so special”. She has a general obsessive personality. Often described as autistic, but she knows there’s definitely something more going on because it doesn’t cover the more severe stuff like possible delusions in the recent past. But she is also very autistic. She struggles with characterization

Positive traits:

can draw

can make a good fried rice

strong dedication towards Kaneki

picks up most art mediums easily

will try to do her best with most things

an honest girl

She’s allegedly intelligent but she’s got this personality that makes her sound so stupid to anyone not on the same wavelength, so this sometimes gets cancelled out.

Can provide unconsensual unconditional love towards Kaneki

Negative traits:

peculiar

not very strong or useful or like anything that beneficial

is in Japan, doesn’t know Japanese

can’t explain how she got here or became friends with Kaneki. The past is blurred to her, she’s focused solely on her life with Kaneki in the moment and near future

would let Kaneki kick her to death to make him feel better

urge to cut split ends whenever she finds them, will ask to get up to get scissors to cut these split ends if they’re frayed enough

extremely bothered by polyester fabrics, not because of an allergy she just hates them

struggles socially and with being in public spaces a lot, especially with navigating crowds

often needs very specific instructions for what to do

Background: Honestly up to the person writing/drawing since I hardly ever explore the starting point of Iyu and Kaneki’s relationship, it is always just a continuous thing. I have a bit of a structure below but it’s a bit gross and I would prefer seeing what other people come up with, it’s just there in case it helps someone with the dynamic

Sometimes it branches from the idea of her making a sort of deal in her own world to go to Kaneki’s. This is specifically a timeline where he’s more isolated than before and is living on his own. She tries to be upfront about the situation and offers some special information to stop him from going to the Anteiku raid (like his suicide failing), but she omits information that would make him realize the eventual effects of that decision would make it worth it in the end. Iyu worries immensely about Kaneki leaving her for others, seeing his other friends as people she couldn’t compete with. She has a general belief that others will always be chosen before her, and in most situations will just let people slip away for someone better, but Kaneki is very different. If she fumbles this one boy she will jump off of Skytree. After somehow convincing him that it’s in his best interest to keep her around, she spends her time making gifts for Kaneki and accompanying him when he is comfortable with it. They kind of just hang out. Initially Kaneki was thinking to kill Iyu, despite the information proving useful, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that to someone who “loved him” so he put off the decision until he just adjusted to her. Sometimes he gets angry with how pathetic she can be, and her weird refusal to stop liking him when she sees him get so low, but she loves him so genuinely and he was kinda lonely before so he’s a bit attached to the attention now so now they are bros. Iyu wonders what would happen if he knew the full truth about his original future.

DOs:

Ships I'm okay with: Iyu and Kaneki (platonic\one sided), Iyu and Shuu (platonic but not as strong), any OCs that you think could be friends with my Iyu!!

Things I'm okay with: basically anything as long as Kaneki is involved in some way and it doesn’t go against my Don’ts

DON'TS:

Things I'm NOT okay with: molestation, Iyu or Kaneki dying

Ships I'm not okay with: basically anything not in the prior ship section, more if it’s romantic

trivia: she is called Iyu because it’s a strawberry name and one of my discord accounts was called Strawberry. In my mind Kaneki nor anyone else called her by any name, sometimes she’d just be gestured to vaguely or other characters would glaze over her name. She is generally more of an observer in that world anyway.

[coochiekrab]

considering you a proud veteran of both platforms, how do twitter and tumblr compare?

Oh gaursh…as far as user experience honestly i think both are the same. I’m currently struggling to find a replacement for curious cat so i think tumblr wins purely for having a built in anonymous submissions feature. The only thing i don’t like about tumblr is its non functional tagging system, prude laws and its refusal to stack notifications by like/reblog like twitter does. Im also permanently ip banned from making new accounts on twitter because i threatened a pedophile #no free speech

As far as Comic / work reach, i like both websites equally but they don’t necessarily stack up symmetrically. I get the same amount of work on twitter and tumblr but twitter doesn’t limit what kind of comics i can make. I tend to browse more on twitter than i do tumblr. Tumblr has a more insulated community so there’s a very low chance for someone to horribly misinterpret my work and slam dunk me with a crazy bad faith take. Tumblrs tags also encourages people to leave nicer comments in a less direct way that i really enjoy sifting through, i think twitter replies make people kinda shy. Twitter is nicer to my image quality and a lot of people on tumblr say my comics are hard to read both on desktop and mobile for.. whatever reason. Twitters image crop is kinda lame though. Ive been on tumblr for over 10 years and still have ~7k followers, while my twitter has only been active for like 2-3 years and i already hit 10k last month

Instagram sucks dirt