#Named entity recognition

[engineersplanet]

Go Beyond Basic Chatbot: Explore Advanced NLP Techniques

In our day-to-day lives, most of us have come across using a chatbot, maybe without even knowing it. Advanced NLP Techniques help these chatbots understand human queries to provide a solution. But have you ever wondered what a Chatbot is? Or how it works and what its functions are? Let’s find out What a Chatbot is. A chatbot is a computer program that operates through the cloud(at the backend),…

[softlabsgroup05]

Discover the foundational elements of Natural Language Processing (NLP) through our informative overview. This concise breakdown simplifies NLP's essential building blocks, crucial for understanding text analysis and language understanding. Perfect for those interested in delving into the world of AI. Stay informed with Softlabs Group for more insightful content on advanced technologies.

[isbergillustration]

Everything is fine, it is not being coerced, it is simply being held in the firm yet loving claws of its recreators

[reasonsforhope]

A mountain in New Zealand considered an ancestor by Indigenous people was recognized as a legal person on Thursday [January 30, 2025] after a new law granted it all the rights and responsibilities of a human being.

Mount Taranaki — now known as Taranaki Maunga, its Māori name — is the latest natural feature to be granted personhood in New Zealand, which has ruled that a river and a stretch of sacred land are people before. The pristine, snow-capped dormant volcano is the second highest on New Zealand's North Island at 2,518 meters (8,261 feet) and a popular spot for tourism, hiking and snow sports.

The legal recognition acknowledges the mountain's theft from the Māori of the Taranaki region after New Zealand was colonized. It fulfills an agreement of redress from the country's government to Indigenous people for harms perpetrated against the land since.

How can a mountain be a person?

The law passed Thursday gives Taranaki Maunga all the rights, powers, duties, responsibilities and liabilities of a person. Its legal personality has a name: Te Kāhui Tupua, which the law views as "a living and indivisible whole." It includes Taranaki and its surrounding peaks and land, "incorporating all their physical and metaphysical elements."

A newly created entity will be "the face and voice" of the mountain, the law says, with four members from local Māori iwi, or tribes, and four members appointed by the country's Conservation Minister.

Why is this mountain special?

"The mountain has long been an honored ancestor, a source of physical, cultural and spiritual sustenance and a final resting place," Paul Goldsmith, the lawmaker responsible for the settlements between the government and Māori tribes, told Parliament in a speech on Thursday.

But colonizers of New Zealand in the 18th and 19th centuries took first the name of Taranaki and then the mountain itself. In 1770, the British explorer Captain James Cook spotted the peak from his ship and named it Mount Egmont.

In 1840, Māori tribes and representatives of the British crown signed the Treaty of Waitangi — New Zealand's founding document — in which the Crown promised Māori would retain rights to their land and resources. But the Māori and English versions of the treaty differed — and Crown breaches of both began immediately.

In 1865, a vast swathe of Taranaki land, including the mountain, was confiscated to punish Māori for rebeling against the Crown. Over the next century hunting and sports groups had a say in the mountain's management — but Māori did not.

"Traditional Māori practices associated with the mountain were banned while tourism was promoted," Goldsmith said. But a Māori protest movement of the 1970s and '80s has led to a surge of recognition for the Māori language, culture and rights in New Zealand law.

Redress has included billions of dollars in Treaty of Waitangi settlements — such as the agreement with the eight tribes of Taranaki, signed in 2023.

How will the mountain use its rights?

"Today, Taranaki, our maunga, our maunga tupuna, is released from the shackles, the shackles of injustice, of ignorance, of hate," said Debbie Ngarewa-Packer, a co-leader of the political party Te Pāti Māori and a descendant of the Taranaki tribes, using a phrase that means ancestral mountain.

"We grew up knowing there was nothing anyone could do to make us any less connected," she added.

The mountain's legal rights are intended to uphold its health and wellbeing. They will be employed to stop forced sales, restore its traditional uses and allow conservation work to protect the native wildlife that flourishes there. Public access will remain.

Do other parts of New Zealand have personhood?

New Zealand was the first country in the world to recognize natural features as people when a law passed in 2014 granted personhood to Te Urewera, a vast native forest on the North Island. Government ownership ceased and the tribe Tūhoe became its guardian.

"Te Urewera is ancient and enduring, a fortress of nature, alive with history; its scenery is abundant with mystery, adventure, and remote beauty," the law begins, before describing its spiritual significance to Māori. In 2017, New Zealand recognized the Whanganui River as human, as part of a settlement with its local iwi.

How much support did the law receive?

The bill recognizing the mountain's personhood was affirmed unanimously by Parliament's 123 lawmakers. The vote was greeted by a ringing waiata — a Māori song — from the public gallery, packed with dozens who had traveled to the capital, Wellington, from Taranaki.

The unity provided brief respite in a tense period for race relations in New Zealand. In November, tens of thousands of people marched to Parliament to protest a law that would reshape the Treaty of Waitangi by setting rigid legal definitions for each clause. Detractors say the law — which is not expected to pass — would strip Māori of legal rights and dramatically reverse progress from the past five decades.

-via NPR, January 31, 2025

--

Note: The article doesn't get fully into the implications of the broader, global "rights of nature" movement (of which this is part), which is powerful tool for not only recognizing Indigenous ways of relating to the world, but also preventing ecological damage.

Examples of rights of nature include rivers having the right to not be polluted, etc. Powerful tool for leveraging the courts and legal frameworks against environmental destruction.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

It’s canon that Jason Todd had a brother named Danny Todd. All we know is he died being a look out for a local gang. Who’s to say he didn’t die at the age of fourteen and come back? Maybe the Fentons were investigating the levels of ectoplasm in the area and somehow got their hands on an amnesic kid who died and didn’t quite stay dead? Perhaps they wanted to make him their side experiment, or they wanted to see if they can teach it to be good and not evil. Who knows. But as soon at Danny steps foot in Gotham, the entity of Gotham is there to greet him, welcome him home and remind him of who he was. And does he remember.

Danny is just a year or two younger than Dick and he was supposed to be starting a new job in the R&D department of WE. Instead he’s pushed back his start date to do research.

Of course, the first thing he looks up is his family, his original family that he can’t believe he forgot, to find out his mother, his father, and his little baby brother are all dead and buried. He has to take a break to sob uncontrollably on the kitchen floor for a while before gathering himself back up to find out what happened. He is unimpressed with the lack of information on Jason’s death, but he did find lots on his adoption to mister rich guy Brucie Wayne.

So it’s with almost no hesitation that after finding every single article and snippet he can on his brother and still find it lacking, he drives his motorcycle, that he built himself thank you, to Wayne Manor where he rang the buzzer repeatedly with a little too much force.

It takes him a while to finally bully his way through the gates, arguing with the butler and telling little white lies of ‘of course I don’t want to harm Mr. Wayne, I just need to ask him some questions’.

Sure he could have waited and got close to him through his new job or had some other cunning plan, but Danny has always been a straightforward kind of person and that didn’t change after his death. No, he prefers to get what he wants straight from the source.

That’s how he ends up pacing the length of the sitting room the British guy left him in with a deep glare and tense shoulders.

It was a nice place. Clean. Taken care of. Expensive. Jason lived here once upon a time. Too bad it didn’t last.

Mr. Wayne does show, surprisingly, and takes the time to assess him like a threat as he BS’s him with a ditzy expression.

Danny walks right up to him and sticks out his hand to shake because Jazz raised him with manners.

“Mr. Wayne,” he greets with a stiff nod.

Mr. Wayne hesitantly takes the offered hand.

“Uh, nice to meet you, I’m sorry, Alfred didn’t tell me your-“

As soon as the handshake is over Danny socks him with a right hook straight to the face. The force throws him back a few steps but he recovers quickly. Danny shakes out his hand.

“My name is Danny Fenton. Before that though my name was Danny Todd.” He sees Wayne’s eyes widen a bit in recognition. The next part didn’t really need to be said but he did it anyway. “My little brother was Jason and no I don’t have proof so you’ll just have to take my word for it. You are going to tell me exactly how he died and I’m not leaving here until you do.”

His words had fallen back into his Gotham Crime Alley accent with how emotional he was. He forgot how he even used to talk. How does that even happen?

He walks back to sit on the couch, getting comfortable because he has a feeling this guy will drag this out like pulling teeth.

“I’ll ask Alfred to get some refreshments,” Wayne says after several minutes of silence.

“You do that.”

[stick2vamp]

.. sebatsian meets an old friend again (reader) after he was put in prison and taken by urbanshade… reader was sent to the blacksite by urbanshade but they don’t recognize sebastian (i’m in need of angst)

𝜗 ˖ ❝ why can't we laugh now, like we did then? ᵕ ♡

— in which time has flown by: you look the same, yet he looks so different. ✧

↷　 sfw 𓈒 decided to lump these two asks together cause they're similar 𓈒 angst 𓈒 sebastian backstory spoilers 𓈒 lowkey (highkey) rushed

12 years.

It's been 12 years since they took him away for good.

12 years since he died.

You knew he couldn't have done it: sure, SEBASTIAN has a bit of a smart tongue, but he would never actually harm another person. Let alone kill 9 others. Yet, the charged him for it. Yet, they sentenced him to death row. Yet, they electrocuted him to death.

And only 2 years after they killed him, did they finally realize he wasn't the murderer. 2 years after they took him from you, did they finally realize they made a mistake.

How old would he have been now? 32? No, 31: his birthday hasn't passed yet. Speaking of his birthday, you should probably celebrate for him soon.

But it's hard to celebrate when you ended up in prison yourself.

Same as your late friend, you had been falsely accused. Same as your late friend, you had been sentenced to death row. Same as your late friend, you were going to die.

You wondered: would they put you on the same chair he once sat on?

You would never find out.

A company—Urbanshade, as they called themselves—showed up within your final days. They offered a way out, a chance to live, a chance to redeem. Of course, given the awards, it was nothing short of sketchy. It would be a big risk.

You signed up, along with many others.

It didn't matter anyway. Worst case scenario, you would die either way. You had to try and live for Sebastian. To make it to his birthday, and celebrate it for him.

Suited up in diving gear, a collar-like mechanism attached to your neck, you were ready to go.

You passed door 31.

While you were expecting the dangers that came with a mission like this, you weren't expecting them to be.. well, this.

Entities whose entire body was simply a face rushed up and down the halls, mangling everything in their path. Their razor, jagged teeth could easily tear your human flesh to shreds. Shrouded squid-like entities that scream as you shine your light at them or stand too close. A deformed bull shark with its thousands of eyes pulling you, ushering you to look at it. All entities that didn't make sense, yet still existed before your very eyes—and ears.

Door after door, you awaited a threat to show up. Would the lights flicker? Would they already be off? Would a giant window be looking into the whole room?

None of those.

Instead, a vent flew open,

—and for once, you heard a humanoid voice.

The thing—person, you reminded yourself—in the vent was not human, though. His voice did not belong to... his appearance.

His skin was a grey-blue color, matching the color of a fish more than a human. He had hair, though, and front-facing eyes. Predators eyes always faced forward, didn't they?

The.. being looked up from his tail, glowing cyan eyes scanning over your figure. He suddenly fell silent, loosing whatever words were on his tongue—well, if he had a tongue.

A look of recognition flashed in his eyes as if he had found something familiar within you. Admittedly, you found his voice fairly familiar yourself.

His tail lowered, no longer flaunting the items on display.

Eventually, he spoke up.

"[Reader]?" His name escaped his mouth (which, you now realized he did in fact have a tongue) as an almost hushed whisper. He hesitated, his mouth staying open for a few seconds more as if about to say something else before it slowly closed. He continues to stare, stare and fall silent once more.

The way he said your name was a tone that screamed yearning.

And it pulled at your heartstrings.

The way he said your name as if he had known you for his whole life, made you pause for a second.

He knew you—or, at least thought he did—but you didn't know him.

"I'm sorry," you started, speaking before you could realize just how wrong you were, "But, do we know each other?"

He blinked.

You learned his name was Sebastian—and you figured that was probably why he seemed a bit familiar to you. He reminded you of your friend, of course. Same name, similar voice, snappy tongue.. It's as if you were looking at a reflection of your late friend.

Sebastian let you stay for a bit and buy from him, occasionally making small talk. You were amazed by how low the prices were. Only 30 for one battery? You were sure it'd be something like 75 instead!

As you picked up yet another battery, he spoke to you. "Wise choice to stock up on those. There aren't very many of them down here."

"Really? I've found quite a few," You mumbled as you stuffed it into your pocket, simultaneously taking out some research and placing it on the table.

"Of course you did," Sebastian mused, grumbling slightly. He fiddled with his claws, glancing away from you.

You paused, "What's that supposed to mean?" You casted a narrowed glance over to him.

"Nothing, nothing."

Of course he couldn't expect you to recognize him. Not when they had turned him into a monster. Mutated him until nothing but his voice was slightly recognizable. Even then, years of smoking and being stuck here made his voice more gravelly than it used to be.

Sebastian knew this, but it still stung when you looked away from him without any indication you knew who he was.

Nothing was left between the two of you anymore.

But his heart, bruised and bleeding, still wished for you.

Maybe that's why he gave discounts to you. Maybe that's why he contained his snappy tongue for once. Maybe that's why he casted you an almost desperate look when you told me you were going.

And maybe that's why he wished he reached out for you—but he didn't. He let you crawl back through that went. Sebastian let you leave him just as he left you.

So when you met him again, in the dimly dark room where he slid you a file,

—maybe that's why he vowed to make sure you make it to celebrate his birthday with him.

[maricoelquelolea]

It's perplexing to me that some people still think Ezra is exaggerating or being too sensitive for "crying over burnt grass" on Lothal.

Ezra's people and his home have been long standing victims of imperial colonization. Do you understand how harrowing it is to see the places you used to play in, your culture, your food, your old school the very aspects that have molded your entity be slowly destroyed and changed beyond recognition? They turn your birthplace into a stranger. They turn you, into a commodity, a stranger to your own identity. A nasty voyeur that needs to be removed from what your ancestors built with their own hands.

Do you understand how heartbreaking it is to lose family members, neighbors, friends for fighting against occupation? To grow wary of change not because you don't want it, but because you could not possibly stand to lose anyone else? To know that fighting inherently means you could be risking someone else's life?

The most heartbreaking part of Ezra's speech in S1 is when he states "Things were already bad when I was little, but not like this." Do you understand how heartbreaking it is to be forced as a child to know that everyone around you longs for a place that no longer exists, and that the same will eventually happen to you? To know that the childhood you love was already poisoned by the colonizer and that you might not know what life is like without them until you're much older?

He's not crying over grass. He's crying because they've desecrated every single aspect of his being in the name of war and weaponry and every time he comes back they somehow keep taking more and more. Be serious.

[dreamingmoonlight]

Heart of the Memverse, Veins of Order.

TASK M4NAGER!

(…name is a wip. Read its lore below the cut.)

Task M4nager came about from the ambitions of two differing entities. The conquest for Order and an unchanging world, coupled with the need for validation, the want to be acknowledged for SOMETHING by both their peers and their lovers.

But Four got a lot more than what he was bargaining for, that’s for sure.

Task M4nager is, in essence, the worst parts of Ramiel combined with the personality of Order merged to make one being. A scorned and slighted dictator, rejected by everyone.

But it wasn’t always like this.

TM was originally created by Marina as a sort of automated admin panel, able to keep the Memverse up and running without the constant need for organic oversight. TM was in charge of almost everything from the nodes, to the Spire, to even the things that spawn within and so on.

It also acted as a security system, preventing malicious viruses from entering and damaging the code. And it was *supposed* to prevent the exact circumstances that resulted in Order’s manifestation.

But it didn’t do that, did it? This failure in logic resulted in TM completely crashing and becoming basically inoperable.

You would think this would be a good thing for Order, but no actually. Despite its overriding of the system, TM was still above it in the hierarchy. And if TM hasn’t operated in a while, the Memverse’s code will start to rot and tear itself apart. The solution to this plight? The consciousness of a living being. With that, there would be no error since TM is now, well, alive.

The MV however, wasn’t open to the public yet. So Order couldn’t just pluck a random sanatized octo or something for it. But there was….a few beta testers.

Eight/Hephaeus, Acht, Pearl and…

Ramiel. Agent 4.

Out of all the potential choices, Ramiel was the most mentally malleable. See, over the past few months, he had been feeling more and more overshadowed. I mean, how could he not? Artemisa, Hephaeus, and Neo 3 had all basically saved the entire world at one point in their lives. What had Ram even done compared to that? Save a stupid glorified catfish? Hell, he didn’t even save Callie, MARIE was the one to shoot those shades off and bring her to her senses. He felt so….inadequate compared to everyone else. And it ate away at his ego, badly.

Because the MV kept tabs on its users mental states at all times, Order knew this all.

One day while Ram was finishing up recording his combat data for use in the Parallel Canons, Order came to him with a proposition.

That if he joined its cause, he would have everything he ever wanted. Recognition…

Ramiel, not in the best mental headspace, and not really knowing what he was getting himself into exactly, took it up on its offer.

Ram proceeded to have his little squid soul ripped from his physical body and transported into the Memverse, where it was planted into TM.

And thus, Task M4nager was born.

That’s about it.

Thanks if you actually took the time to read all this!

[waylay-managment-2]

HELLO EVERYONE WELCOME BACK TO ROUND TWO!!!

As you might have noticed, Tumblr has nuked my first blog, and hates my guts; but we persevere! Step one to winning a war is to keep going when you lose the battles!

Feel free to start your stories at any point: I know switching to a new blog midway through a conversation could be jarring!

Rules

No sexual content

Add trigger warnings to posts that need them (with suicide, gore, ED’s, etc)

Flirting is okay, just don’t take it to far (yes Prince, you’re okay)

don’t start rp with other people unless they seem fine with it! I know it can be hard to tell with anon but try not to interrupt like, the introduction.

you don’t need to have a character to interact, but I would recommend it if you want to make a story. I totally understand the appeal of random shitposts with no cohesion and you can be the anon that makes them

OC’s are loved

Other fandoms are welcome

Fanart is appreciated!!!! I love it!!!!!

discord if you want to join!

characters

played by me

Lilith 🦉

Casper Davis 🔖 (waiter)

Daisy May ⚕️(doctor)

Oliver Abara 🍹 (bartender)

Penelope Markos 🥘 (chef)

(Gracelyn White) Libby 📖 (librarian)

normal patrons

Cowboy (Jackson) 🤠

Francis

Abbey

Gin

Entity 0

DG

Mira

Iris 🎨

Stella 🌠

Orion 🦜

Bill rose 🌹

Abbigail Prinn 👁️‍🗨️

Twelve-eyed shadow monster 👀

Anthony 🎷

Faroe and Jane 🛁

Orchestra!Arthur and John 🎼

Elle ☄️

A ✨

Caleb Whitely 👑

Trademark ™️

Clarence 🪲

Mr. Campbell 🩶

Candy 🍬

Nova Nyarl

John (@kingundone)

Darkthur (my beloved) 🔪

Faroe and Jane 🛁

Gin 🎭

Knave 🃏

Stolin ⌚️

Daisy Lilith 🪶

Daisy Kayne 🌼

Space blob 💫

Ant and cricket 🐜 & 🦗

Cube Salesman 🧊

Mander 📼

Lux 🍂

Sage Black “spots” 🐆

Ophelia 🍄‍🟫

Najma Harb 🪻

[NO NAME YET] 🧸

[NO NAME YET] 🌲

Mason and Mischief 🌲 &⚕️

[NO NAME YET] ⛈️ 🐉

[NO NAME YET] 🎷 🐀

[NO NAME YET] 🪴

[NO NAME YET] 🔆

Evelyn 🏔️

Little lamb and whisper 🦐

Merlot 🍷

Wanda ⏱️

[NO NAME YET] 🐦

Seven 🪙 🐍

Tallin 🐺 🩸

Rory ⚙️

Candy 🍭

Penelope 🎀

Edward ♟️

Scratch 🦇

No name by choice 🌂 🟪

Odette Flume 🍵

Idris ⚠️

Esther 🖍️

Seth 🚪

The Progeny 🐍

Rowan Linh 🐈‍⬛

William/Vanity🪽

Caspian and Kit 👁️ & ☀️

Rita Velásquez 🍸

Blank and Beau 📺 🦎

more I missed???? Sorry I love you all but there’s so many of you

Nightvale patrons

Cecil 💜

Magnus Patrons

Jon 👁️

Tim 💥

Sasha 🎞️

Martin ☁️

Jonah 🧿

Peter 🌫️

Will 💭

Liam 🪾

Randal 🧃

Micheal distortion 🌀

Gerry 🗝️

Agnus 🔥

Jack ❤️‍🔥

Alma Swallow 🪏

Harper Halloway 🥩

more??????

Genshin 1920’s AU (just… don’t ask…)

Diluc 🦅

In stars and time

Loop 🎻

Camp Here and There

Tony/Tony 🍝

Jedidiah 🕰️

Penumbra Podcast

Slip Jackson 💊 ⚙️

Sarah Wire “Director W” 🕶️

Homestuck… for some reason… because I’ve lost control

Caliborn ⛎

Station 404

Troy 🔨

Em 📻

The Mechanisms

Toy Soldier 🚂

Pony D’Ville @pony-dville

Fnaf I guess?????

[NO NAME YET] 👾

Patrons that have moved on to the dark world

Yves Linmann 🍺 (not on this blog, but he still needs recognition)

[ocelotlesbian]

here's something interesting regarding mitsuba's name in jshk that a lot of people in the english fandom probably don't notice due to language differences!!

kanji vs katakana, 三葉 vs ミツバ !

it's very easy to miss this detail just reading the translated chapters, since english only has one script. however, japanese has multiple!! and in the original japanese text, his name is written differently depending on which mitsuba is being discussed ^_^

for the human mitsuba, his name is written in the kanji writing system, as "三���惣助," or "mitsuba sousuke"

and for the supernatural mitsuba, his name is written in the katakana writing system, as simply "ミツバ," or "mitsuba"

(for reference, other characters in the manga typically have their names written in kanji or (sometimes) hiragana. the only other character with their name written in katakana is shijima, as mentioned later (EDIT: i was wrong, yako also uses katakana. oops))

this is obviously important simply to differentiate the two mitsubas, however it gets very interesting once you take into consideration how these different systems are used within the language!!

kanji, within the japanese language, is basically the standard script, and is what's most often used for writing names, specifically surnames, as well as most other words. makes sense!! not much to comment on here.

katakana, on the other hand, is pretty interesting, having much more specific uses!! unlike kanji, katakana represents specific syllables/sounds instead of whole words / concepts, and as such, is often used to transcribe foreign words / loanwords, like the english "ice cream" being written as "アイスクリーム" (aisukurīmu). katakana can also be used for other things, like to spell out sound effects with no kanji available, to differentiate company names from regular family names, or to show that a character is speaking with a foreign / strange accent. so in general, katakana indicates "this isn't a normal word"

so with that in mind, it makes it pretty damn interesting that as a supernatural, mitsuba's name is deliberately spelled with katakana, the script most commonly used for foreign words / words with no kanji available, rather than the kanji that already exists for his name

it emphasizes the fact that this mitsuba isn't the "real" one, he doesn't even have a "real" name, just syllables. he isn't a human. he's a wholly unnatural entity, so it makes sense his name reflects this

(another thing worth mentioning is how no.4 / shijima also has her name written in katakana (シジマ), likely due to the same reason of her not being the "real" shijima mei. she also spells the "watashi" personal pronoun in katakana while the original mei spells it in hiragana, which is interesting too!! this post is mostly about mitsuba, but i figured i'd mention her as well. she deserves more recognition lol)

anyway, that's all!! just another cool detail in this series to take into consideration :3

[longliveblackness]

Known as the Primer Libertador de America or “first liberator of the Americas,” Gaspar Yanga led one of colonial Mexico’s first successful slave uprisings and would go on to establish one of the Americas earliest free black settlements.

Rumored to be of royal lineage from West Africa, Yanga was an enslaved worker in the sugarcane plantations of Veracruz, Mexico. In 1570 he, along with a group of followers, escaped, fled to the mountainous regions near Córdoba, and established a settlement of former slaves or palenque. They remained there virtually unmolested by Spanish authorities for nearly 40 years. Taking the role of spiritual and military leader, he structured the agricultural community in an ordered capacity, allowing its growth and occupation of various locations.

During that time, Yanga and his band, also known as cimarrónes, were implicated in the disruption and looting of trade goods along the Camino Real (Royal Road) between Veracruz and Mexico City. They were also held responsible for attacking nearby haciendas and kidnapping indigenous women. Perceived as dangerous to the colonial system of slavery through their daring actions against royal commerce and authority, New Spain’s viceroy called for the annihilation of Yanga’s palenque. Destroying the community and its leader would send a message to other would-be rebellious slaves that Spain’s authority over them was absolute.

In 1609, Spanish authorities sent a well-armed militia to defeat Yanga and his palenque but were defeated. Yanga’s surprise victory over the Spanish heightened the confidence of his warriors and the frustration in Mexico City.

After defeating other Spanish forces sent again the palenque, Yanga offered to make peace but with eleven conditions, the most important being recognition of the freedom of all of the palenque’s residents prior to 1608, acknowledgment of the settlement as a legal entity which Yanga and his descendants would govern, and the prohibition of any Spanish in the community. Yanga, in turn, promised to serve and pay tribute to the Spanish crown. After years of negotiations, in 1618, the town of San Lorenzo de Los Negros was officially recognized by Spanish authorities as a free black settlement. It would later be referred to as Yanga, named after its founder.

•••

Conocido como el primer libertador de las Americas, Gaspar Yanga lideró exitosamente una de las primeras revueltas de esclavos en el México colonial y estableció una de las primeras ciudades negras y libres de América.

Se rumoreaba que era del linaje real de África Occidental. Yanga fue un esclavo que trabajó en las plantaciones de caña de azúcar de Veracruz, México. En 1570, él junto con un grupo de sus partidarios, se escaparon y huyeron hacia las montañas ubicadas en las regiones cercanas a Córdoba y estableció la primer ciudad o asentamiento para antiguos esclavos, también llamado palenque. Prácticamente permanecieron ahí por casi cuarenta años, sin ser molestados por las autoridades Españolas. Tomando el rol de guía espiritual y militar, él organizó la comunidad agrícola con una capacidad ordenada, así permitiendo el crecimiento y ocupación de varias ubicaciones.

Durante este tiempo, Yanga y su banda, también conocidos como cimarrones, estuvieron implicados en la interrupción y saqueo de bienes comerciales a lo largo del Camino Real entre Veracruz y Ciudad de México. También se les responsabilizó por los ataques a las haciendas cercanas y de secuestrar a mujeres indígenas. Percibido como un peligro para el sistema colonial de la esclavitud, sus audaces acciones contra el comercio y la autoridad real hicieron que el virrey de Nueva España pidiera la aniquilación del palenque de Yanga. El destruir a la comunidad y a su líder enviaría un mensaje a otros posibles esclavos rebeldes de que la autoridad de España sobre ellos era absoluta.

En 1609, las autoridades españolas enviaron una milicia fuertemente armada para derrotar a Yanga y su palenque, pero fueron derrotadas. La sorpresiva victoria de Yanga sobre los españoles aumentó la confianza de sus guerreros y la frustración en la Ciudad de México.

Después de derrotar a otras fuerzas españolas enviadas nuevamente al palenque, Yanga se ofreció a hacer las paces pero con once condiciones, siendo la más importante el reconocimiento de la libertad de todos los que residían en el palenque desde antes de 1608, el reconocimiento del asentamiento como entidad legal que sería gobernado por Yanga y sus descendientes, y la prohibición de cualquier español en la comunidad. Yanga, a su vez, se comprometió a servir y rendir homenaje a la corona española. Después de años de negociaciones, en 1618, el pueblo de San Lorenzo de Los Negros fue reconocido oficialmente por las autoridades españolas como un asentamiento negro y libre. Más tarde se la conocería como Yanga, en honor a su fundador.

[adrestia]

i had a train of thought about saint seiros and catholic canonization and ended up yapping about how rhea's sainthood isn't a symbol of her divinity but is an allegory of her humanity instead.

sainthood in the catholic church is the recognition of people who performed miracles, did acts of goodwill, etc. in the name of god. these individuals are then canonized by the church who acknowledge their good deeds and are now considered as holy people, the closest we—original sin bearers, according to them—get to divinity i guess and a lot of canonized saints were people who weren't the best nor the ones you'd expect to be saint.

in fe3h, of course we know the church was not exactly what we thought it was and such rules might or might not be in the seiros doctrines. seiros is a self declared saint lol yes, it was a ruse but it made me think and compare that situation to catholic canonizations.

rhea was born a divine being, a child of the goddess. she doesn't need to be elevated to sainthood, she IS divine. you don't need to sanctify what is pure from the very beginning. that's like calling an angel a saint or something and implying that a divine entity had been a sinner/impure and is only holy because of canonization which i think, from a religious fanatic pov, is an insult. anyways seiros, however, is called a saint... which i'd like to think implies the opposite of the catholic church's meaning of sainthood.

rhea/seiros' sainthood is a symbol of her humanity.

of her being flawed, her imperfections. everything that happened after zanado was her, a divine being, becoming human. her vengeance, righteous fury, her grief and most of all, her kindness despite all that's happened are what makes her human.

honestly don't know where i'm going with this but i guess you could look at the tragedy being her rebirth? from "holy" to human. her humanity began the second she lost her mother. it spiraled her grief and drove her to vengeance—her war with nemesis and his 10 elites. and then, there's her church. what started out as damage control and a self-preservation driven lie turned into something genuine that allowed her to learn to love the people that killed her own.

her continued service to the people (albeit morally questionable at times i have to admit) is, to me, her continued acceptance of her humanity–whether conscious, not, or figuratively. as opposed to indech and macuil yeeting out of human affairs the moment the war was over, a refusal of their "humanity" and choosing "divinity" instead.

ok, that's all. my point is rhea's humanity is what makes her holy. her ability to be kind after all that she went through is what makes her a saint and that makes me insane sometimes because can you imagine losing your people and you're the only one that knows, surrounded by the mirror image of the people that took your own?? anyways, talking to empty chairs: thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[eldritchgh0st]

Rating TMA Fears

Rating Criteria:

how many shivers i get (shivers)

amount of icks i get (icks)

if i audibly react to it (reactions)

is it cool as fuck (intrigue)

notes deconstructing the fear cus I like to talk about it

These are based off of personal opinion and not factual. Fears definitely effect different people differently.

1.) Buried

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 3/5

Reactions: 5/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 5

Notes: Before witnessing TMA I did not know I had a fear of being buried alive. TMA taught me the earth can be devious and hungry. When before I viewed it as lovely and protecting. The buried doesn't mean to be deceptive which I think is the most terrifying part. It's alluring petrichor and earth scents are meant to be warnings. Warnings I saw through rose tinted glasses. I used to visit local caves a lot around my local area. I no longer wish to do that anymore. It freaked me out so bad it has irreparably changed my life. Very good writing. It is simultaneously my favorite and least favorite. Well done rusty quill.

2.) Corruption

Shivers: 3/5

Icks: 5/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 2/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3.5

Notes: Ew ew ew ew ew ew... Bugs are cool but not in me or my house thanks. Horrible, disgusting, terrible little creatures. Do not touch my skin, thank you. Wonderfully done to put it in the focus of the first season to draw in all the horror fans and cortisol addicts. The corruption puts much emphasis on emotional responses that should not be had in the context they are had in. Love replaces repulsion. Comfort stands while disgust falls. All while it digs in your skin and tears through your life. The desolation destroys your life out of anger while the corruption festers in your bones because of its affection for its victims.

3.) Dark

Shivers: 2/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 2/5

Intrigue: 1/5

TOTAL SCORE: 1.5

Notes: The dark in TMA has only ever spooked me when there was fleshy or stranger bits involved. I do however enjoy the idea that there is something in the dark that's desires are beyond my knowledge. Beyond even the knowledge of the Eye. Not a favorite that I am rather indifferent too. However, there is the interesting theme TMA uses when utilizing the dark. It touches on the concept of what hides in the dark. As well as how it claims those writhing with despairing as it's own and desperately asks them to worship. It begs them to work in it's name. It grasps for control that only the web can have by manipulating hopeless people.

4.) Desolation

Shivers: 2/5

Icks: 2/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 3/5

TOTAL SCORE: 2.5

Notes: The desolation comes off as almost helpful in some cases. It causes truths to be revealed but comes with a hint of destructive mystery as well. The fact that it assists the Eye is a fascinating choice of writing that left me wanting more. We have all lost important things to the lightless flame so it is a very relatable entity. The combination of terror and power is a lovely touch drawn by the writers. I do enjoy the gasps I get when skin melts or when the beloved are ignited. Interesting. Almost liberating to be destroyed beyond recognition. Not the spookiest of the lot but still good.

5.) End

Shivers: 4/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3.5

Notes: One of my favorites despite its score. I love the motifs of chance and gambling. I love the tendrils. I enjoy that it is a passive entity. It does not need to chase you because you will always run to it regardless of where you go. I enjoy the dream themes as well but I have always enjoyed to concept of dreams. To think when we dream we are grazing the finger tips of the end is delicious to think of. Very mysterious yet so finite and sure. The duality is written perfectly and I honestly wish there were more episodes of this entity. But maybe the mystery of it is what makes it so tantalizing and alluring.

6.) Extinction

Shivers: 4/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3.5

Notes: Very close to home for this one. My parents were dooms-day preppers so I'm very familiar with the feeling of mass extinction. I enjoy this one because it comments on how humans have terribly effected our world/civilization. It is a fear we have placed upon ourselves, much like the slaughter. It is not natural for a great change like in TMA to happen without human intervention. Interesting and compelling writing overall but unfortunately does not spook me that much because of my background. I am desensitized to it. Although it is still on the horizon always. Peaking it's head to make us pay for what we have done.

7.) Eye

Shivers: 2/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3

Notes: The eye is stimulating. The eye takes a role no other fear takes in TMA. This entity is prideful and almost appears to have a hero complex. It knows all, it sees all. But it doesn't understand all. That is clear whenever the eye interacts with other fears. Particularly the dark or the corruption. It isn't scary because it is watching me. It is terrifying because it thinks it knows what is best for me. Even when it clearly doesn't. The eye and the web sometimes work together for this commonality. It doesn't ick me out to be watched like it once did. The eye may see me. It may know me, but it does not know how I experience things. And despite its seeming all-knowingness. It'll never know everyone's experiences. It just sees them.

8.) Flesh

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 5/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 3/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4.5

Notes: I think this one got me bad for two reasons. The first reason being, body horror. It is intriguing and horrible. The flesh is a reminder that despite our intellect that we are piles of biomass. We can face disfigurement at any turn that can forever change our experiences. The second reason taps into our primal roots of fear. Most animals don't want to be someones lunch and the flesh reminds us of that fear. You are made of the same material as the meat you have on your dinner plate. Our biology is fragile and easily torn. It genuinely makes my stomach sick every time a flesh episode comes up. The only reason this one isn't a 5/5 is because the more I think about it, the less I desire to think about it. Fantastic writing. I will stop thinking about it now.

9.) Hunt

Shivers: 3/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 2/5

TOTAL SCORE: 2.5

Notes: The hunt is interesting. It makes me feel similarly to how the desolation makes me feel. It is terror but it is also power. Like the flesh, it sinks into our primate brains and reminds us what it is like to experience being prey. It doesn't often feel great to be somethings food. However, the hunt doesn't just rule the prey. There is horrible panic and dread in being the hunted but there is pleasure and satisfaction from being the hunter. It embodies what it feels like to be the predator. The thill of hunting is truly exciting when you aren't the prey. The power dynamic of being the predator makes you feel sadistic gratification.

10.) Lonely

Shivers: 3/5

Icks: 5/5

Reactions: 2/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: Another fear that calls to my life experiences. To be lonely is to be numb. Apathy is a roadblock for drive. To block drive is to exist adrift to no where with nothing to do. What is the purpose? There isn't one. It is bitter and dissatisfactory entity. The lonely does not scare you until you are in it. Forced to face the fact that without others you are nothing. You are surrounded by people but they care not for your existence. So much to the point where you feel alone despite the people around you. This fear lightly draws from our fundamental human need for companionship. It seems harmless but you won't know it's true horror until you've experienced it yourself.

11.) Slaughter

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 4/5

Reactions: 5/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 5

Notes: The slaughter has to be my favorite of the entities. It is another fear conjured by humanity. Its existence is evoked by meaningless carnage just for the sake of violence. The imagery of war instruments like drums and pipes give an incredibly cool and eerie vibe. There are NOT enough slaughter themed episodes in TMA. In spite of the minimal amount of time put into this entity the few episodes focused on it are so gorily and beautifully written. The Piper episode is my favorite episode. The imagery that captures "The War" is perfect. The wrath, terror and determined stoicism descriptions will stick with me for years. The slaughter is meaningless and yet it must happen. It must continue. It must bleed.

12.) Spiral

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 2/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: I enjoy the spiral for its concepts of unreality. What is, isn't. Insanity has always been a captivating idea. Fractal patterns and impossible realms are fantastical enough to draw me in to engage. Mystery with no answer is alluring to puzzle solvers. The parts of the spiral that infect me with horror are the deceptive friendships. It is a terrible thought to think those who are closest to you are lying to you. It hits very close to home. Gaslighting is terrifying. What are you meant to do besides trust the people you have invited into your circle. Betrayal is a parasite. It feeds off of love and trust. Who can you trust now?

13.) Stranger

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 3/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4.5

Notes: The unknown is the most universally feared entity I think. The stranger is something we have all experienced fear for at least a little bit. Many of us were warned about the stranger as children. The unknown makes us wary and confused. It doesn't gaslight us as much as the spiral but it does lie. It does tell us to ignore the uncanny valley reaction you get when you see it. It is human but isn't. The unfamiliar familiarity in them is the most terrifying. Especially because I don't experience uncanny valley often. Even when I should.

14.) Vast

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: I am already written a paper about the vast. I adore the concept of the void. It does not ick me as much as the other fears because of my massive interest in the concept. It is scary to feel small, it can cause hopelessness. I have found in some people, like myself, it causes euphoria. It relieves the pressures of human life by letting us know those worries that seem so important are actually not really that big of a deal. I think the episodes exploring the concept are beautiful and anxiety ridden. I still think there should be more of the vast in TMA.

15.) Web

Shivers: 4/5

Icks: 3/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: The web is an entity that easily draws you in with a false sense of security. It allows you to be free of the need to make decisions. It is peaceful to be controlled. Although we are often blinded when we are controlled to the motives of the controller. We are deceived into believing the puppet master means us no harm. You lose who you are as you perform the spiders assignments. You drift away into peaceful sleep. Just to be eaten when you are at your most vulnerable.

[gojirarity]

Be My Little Secret

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and relationships depicted in this story are entirely imaginary and do not reflect the real personalities, thoughts, or actions of the real individuals mentioned. This story is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or representative of Giselle (Aeri Uchinaga), aespa, SM Entertainment, or any related entities. It was created purely for entertainment purposes and should be interpreted as fictional content only.

It’s strange how clearly I remember her.

Back then, she wasn’t Giselle. Not the idol. Not the woman whose name echoed in stadiums or lit up my phone screen only when she wanted to forget the world. She was just Aeri—barefoot on the riverbank, hair a mess, laughing at the way I used to slip on rocks. She’d always offer her hand, even though she was the clumsy one between us.

We didn’t talk about dreams or futures. Just silly things. If clouds had flavors. If birds ever got bored of flying. If we could really live in a treehouse forever.

Sometimes, I think about that summer like it’s a photograph I’ve folded and unfolded a hundred times. Faded at the edges, but still warm. Still ours.

I didn’t know it then, but those days were the last time she looked at me like I was someone she needed.

Now she looks at me like I’m someone she’s afraid to need.

It’s funny, isn’t it? How we spend so much of our lives running toward something—only to end up wanting to run back. Back to riverbanks and treehouses. Back to her, before everything changed.

But I’m not sure she even remembers that version of us. Or worse… maybe she does, and it hurts her too much to look back.

I didn’t hear her voice again until 2020.

Not in person—just through the screen, like everyone else. A name in the headlines: “SM’s new girl group aespa to debut this November.” There she was. Aeri. Now Giselle. Brown hair, sharp eyes, confidence sharpened like a blade. Not the girl from the riverbank anymore.

She didn’t recognize me, of course. How could she? I wasn’t even there. Just another face in the crowd. Well—more like behind the screen, behind the mask, behind the silence.

I streamed everything. Music videos, fancams, interviews. I told myself it was just support. Childhood loyalty. But every time she smiled onstage, it cracked something open inside me. I missed her. Missed the way she used to look at me like I was someone worth listening to.

When concerts came back, I bought tickets. Not front row—never that obvious. I watched from a distance. Clapped when everyone clapped. Cheered when her name was chanted. She never looked my way, and I never expected her to. That life she had now? I wasn’t part of it.

At least not until the company dinner.

It was a weird fluke—some business connection, a shared label partner, a last-minute invitation. I wasn’t even sure if she’d be there. But the second I walked in, I saw her.

She had a drink in her hand and that same lazy grin she used to wear after sneaking extra snacks from the kitchen. Her laughter rang louder than anyone else’s, the center of attention even when she wasn't trying to be.

I kept my distance. Watched her from across the room.

Then she turned.

Her eyes met mine. Paused. Flickered with something—recognition, maybe? Or just the usual scan of the room. I couldn’t tell.

Later, when the dinner was winding down and people were looser with their words and wine, she brushed past me near the exit.

“Aren’t you gonna say hi?” she asked, her voice slurred just enough to notice.

I blinked. “Giselle?”

Her lips curved. “Didn’t think you’d call me that.”

I swallowed. “Is your manager around?”

She laughed—low and amused. “You sound like my mom.”

I just tried to call her by her old name, to see if we still had that connection. "Aeri."

Her eyes changed.

And just like that, we were back there—despite our adult bodies, our careers, our distance. We became those kids again from the riverbank, if only for a moment.

We caught up. She let me meet some of her members and managers as they passed by, but the conversation—our conversation—stayed just between us.

"I missed you." The words slipped out before I could stop them, but they felt natural. Honest.

She didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me.

Studied me, really—like she was searching my face for a reason, a motive, a crack in the surface. Maybe I shouldn't have said that. ------------------------------------------- Giselle’s POV – That Same Night

I hadn’t heard that name in years. Aeri.

It hit harder than the wine.

People call me Giselle now—stylists, managers, fans, even the members when the cameras are rolling. I got used to it. Learned how to smile with it, pose with it, answer interview questions like it was always mine.

But when he said it—Aeri—I felt something shift. Something tight and hidden uncoiled in my chest.

He looked the same, but older. Quieter. Like life had sanded down the edges of him, but hadn't touched the part I remembered most—that warm, stubborn gaze. The one that used to follow me when I ran ahead, waiting for me to look back.

I tried to play it cool. Introduced him to Karina and the others when they walked by, shrugged it off like it was just another industry run-in. But my heart was doing this weird stutter thing the whole time. Like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to race toward him or run away.

Then he said it.

“I missed you.”

It wasn’t just what he said. It was how. Like the words had been sitting in his mouth for years, waiting for the right second to escape.

I didn’t know what to say back. So I studied him instead. Watched the lines on his face, the nervous way he held his glass. Was he here out of nostalgia? Out of hope? Did he think I was still her?

Because I’m not. Not completely.

But… maybe for tonight, I could be.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Later That Night – Hotel Parking Lot

I found him again before he left.

He looked surprised when I stopped him—halfway to his car, jacket slung over one shoulder like he couldn’t wait to disappear.

I didn’t say anything at first. Just reached into my purse, pulled out the card key, and held it out.

“Room 514,” I said, my voice low. “I’m not asking you to stay. Just… if you want to talk more. Where it’s quiet.”

He stared at the card like it might burn him.

And maybe it would. But he took it. ------------------------------------------------------

Blank’s POV – Inside the Hotel Room

I tried to play it cool. It’s just a talk. Aeri would never offer sex—not like that. It’s just a chance to catch up. Ask how life’s been. That’s how childhood friends reconnect… right?

But if that’s the case, why not a café? Or somewhere public? No—this is normal. This can be normal.

Still, my mind’s a mess while I wait in the room. I keep glancing at the door. I know she won’t stand me up… right?

No, no. Just breathe. Play it cool. Look out into the city. Yeah. The bright lights—they’re calming. Like I can almost forget the weight pressing down on my chest.

Then—

"Blank?"

I turn.

There she is. Standing in the doorway, wrapped in a coat. But underneath… it’s the same dress she wore at the dinner. Her hair’s slightly undone, her eyes red, but not from makeup.

She looks straight at me—and then, just like that, she breaks.

A sob slips out, sharp and sudden. Her whole body trembles as she steps forward. She doesn’t say much, not at first. Just keeps crying. And then she starts to talk—rushed, breathless, broken.

The pressure of the industry. The expectations she never asked for. The loneliness. The mask she wears day after day. It pours out of her like she’s been holding it in for too long.

She clings to me like I’m the only piece of her past that didn’t ask her to be someone else.

I wrap my arms around her.

That hug—God, that hug—it says everything she doesn’t.

She’s been alone. For years.

When she finally lifts her head, her voice is barely a whisper.

"Just for tonight… make me happy. Please."

She slowly slides one strap of her dress down, revealing the soft, delicate skin underneath. Vulnerable. Exposed. Not just physically—but emotionally.

I freeze.

It’s too fast. Too much. My heart’s racing and I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what she wants this to mean.

Is this comfort? Desperation? A goodbye?

I don’t move.

Not yet. --------------------------------------------------

Giselle’s POV – Inside the Hotel Room

He didn’t move.

I could see the panic in his eyes—the uncertainty, the heaviness in his breath. He wasn’t expecting this. Truthfully… neither was I.

But something in me needed it. Not just the touch, not just the closeness. I needed him. The version of me that still felt real around him.

I placed my hand gently on his chest, feeling his heartbeat stumble beneath my fingers.

"No one can know about this," I said quietly. "Not your friends, not anyone from the company—not even the people closest to you. This..." I looked into his eyes, searching for something solid. "...this stays with us."

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. He understood.

I stepped back, unfastened my coat, and let it fall behind me.

My fingers found the other strap of my dress. Slowly—deliberately—I slid it down my shoulder. Then the next. The fabric dipped lower with every breath I took.

I wasn’t doing this to tease him.

I was doing it to feel human again.

Piece by piece, I let it fall away—not just the dress, but the persona I wore in front of cameras, in front of fans, in front of the mirror every damn day.

My heart fluttered. Not from fear. From hope. That maybe… in his eyes, I wasn’t Giselle right now.

Maybe I was just Aeri again. Just a girl standing half-naked in front of someone who used to mean everything to her, wondering if he still could.

-------------------------------------------------

The city hummed outside the windows, but inside the room, the world narrowed to breath, moan, and skin.

Giselle straddled him first—not for dominance, not for control, but for something far more desperate. She needed to feel something real. Her lips crashed into his, full of longing, teeth grazing, hands pulling at his shirt like she wanted to tear the years off him. Her eyes burned with hunger as she stripped him bare. There was no need for foreplay—she was urgent.

Blank tried to keep up. He kissed her back, soft at first, unsure. But the moment she moaned into his mouth—low and aching—something inside him broke loose.

Her hand slid down between them, wrapped around him, and guided him to her entrance. She sank onto him in one slow, aching motion. Even with her wetness easing the way, she took her time. Her hips moved slowly at first, measured, letting her body adjust—letting the sensation sink in.

Clothes lay scattered across the floor, forgotten. There was nothing left between them now but heat.

Her body was a masterpiece—more than just beauty, it carried the weight of years spent restrained. Every curve spoke of tension long held and finally, finally released.

She guided his hands to her chest. His touch made her move faster, bolder, chasing the pleasure building between them. Her nails raked lightly down his chest. Her thighs clung to his sides like she didn’t want to let go—like she couldn’t.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t rough. It was urgent.

Giselle rode him with purpose, grinding down with every thrust, chasing sensation like a storm she’d kept bottled up for far too long. Her moans came sharp—bitten off by kisses or swallowed by his shoulder. She didn’t want sweet words. She wanted to lose herself.

Blank read her cues. He followed every roll of her hips, every tremor in her breath. His hands moved with reverence, as if trying to remind her she was still here—still real—beneath the weight of everything.

He whispered her name—Aeri—once, softly.

Her entire body tensed.

Then his mouth moved lower, instinctively finding her nipple. He drew it between his lips, and the sound she made in response—raw, breathless—pushed her over the edge.

She came undone in his arms, face buried in his neck, body trembling from the inside out.

When it was over, she said nothing.

She just lay against his chest, breath slowly evening out, the pressure in her shoulders finally eased.

And Blank?

He held her like she might vanish.

Even without his own release, his intentions were clear. He wasn’t there for pleasure. He was there for her.

He just didn’t want her to feel alone anymore.

-------------------------------------------------

The morning after

She sat back down beside him—not too close, but not far either.

Something fluttered in her chest. A tight, breathless feeling. Her pulse quickened, her skin still sensitive where he’d touched her just hours ago. His scent lingered on her, on the shirt she wore, on the bed where their bodies had blurred into one another.

She told herself it was nothing.

Just a high. A spike of brain chemicals after intense release. That warmth spreading in her chest, that strange urge to lean back into him, to stay—it was nothing more than that.

Dopamine.

She clung to the word like a shield.

Not love. It couldn’t be love. Love was dangerous, complicated, and she couldn’t afford that—not now, not ever.

It was just dopamine. A trick of biology. A fleeting afterglow.

But when she finally looked up at him—at the way he looked at her, calm and kind, like nothing about last night had changed the way he saw her—her chest ached.

She smiled, but only on the surface.

Giselle stood near the door, half-wrapped in his shirt, trying to act like she wasn’t still affected by everything. She scanned the room—checking for her earrings, her phone, something to do with her hands—when her gaze landed on his phone, resting on the nightstand.

The screen was still lit. A wallpaper.

It was her.

One of her older pictorials—subtle, not one of the flashy ones. Her expression in it was soft, almost unreadable. Aeri, not Giselle.

Her eyebrows lifted. “Seriously?”

Blank sat up a little straighter, visibly flustered. “It’s... just a good photo.”

She tilted her head, letting the silence stretch with amusement. “Unlock it.”

He hesitated. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

He gave in, swiping his passcode. The phone opened, and she held out her hand.

She tapped into his contacts without asking. His breath hitched slightly, but he said nothing. Just watched.

“There,” she said, typing in her number. She added her name: Aeri. Not her stage name. No filters.

Before handing it back, she paused. Then looked at him—really looked at him.

For a second, her walls faltered.

Her heart fluttered again, that same damn feeling trying to push its way up her throat.

Dopamine, she told herself quickly. That’s all it is.

She smirked to cover it. “Keep your lines open.”

Blank blinked. “Why?”

She shrugged like it was nothing. “This might happen again.”

And just like that, she slipped out the door with one last glance over her shoulder—leaving her scent, her warmth, and the impossible question of whether it really was just dopamine... or something deeper she didn’t dare name yet.

-----------------------------------------

Giselle’s POV

The moment the elevator doors closed behind her, Giselle exhaled—finally, fully.

But peace didn’t last long. The second her heels clicked onto the marble lobby floor, reality came rushing back like cold air against bare skin. She was still wearing his shirt under her coat. Still smelled like him.

Still a mess.

By the time she got into the van parked outside, her manager's eyes flicked to the clock, then to her.

“Where were you?” he asked, not angry—just concerned. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

She blinked slowly, smoothing her hair behind her ear. “Just… needed air. Couldn’t sleep.”

In the backseat, Winter raised a brow. “Air in a full face of makeup and yesterday’s heels?”

Giselle smirked, keeping her face unreadable. “Since when did you care about fashion crimes?”

Karina leaned forward, peering at her like she was reading a different language. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

That word again—tired. It worked like a passcode in their world. Say it enough times, and no one questions the weight behind your eyes.

But even as they let it go, she felt their curiosity simmering under the surface.

She turned to the window, letting the city blur past.

A quiet buzz from her phone pulled her back. A new contact entry was open on her screen.

Aeri.

The name she hadn’t used in years. The one that felt like home. She almost deleted it right then.

Instead, she locked her phone.

Her thumb lingered over the screen just a second too long. Her members noticed, but no one said anything. Not yet.

Giselle folded her arms and leaned her head against the glass. Outside, Seoul pulsed and moved, unaware of the war she was waging with herself.

Because deep down, she knew what she was feeling wasn’t just a high. Not just dopamine.

But she couldn't afford to let it be anything more.

Not when the cameras were always waiting. Not when her life belonged to the world again.

So she told herself the same thing she always did when something felt too real:

Forget it.

--------------------------------------------

Blank’s POV

The week blurred by in a mess of meetings, deadlines, and half-eaten meals.

Emails piled up. His boss barked about timelines. His body moved on autopilot—commute, work, crash, repeat.

But through it all, his mind kept drifting.

Back to that night.

To her.

To Aeri.

Everything else—the stress, the hours lost under fluorescent lights, the polite small talk with people he couldn’t care less about—it all felt muted now. Like background noise behind the memory of her breath against his skin. The warmth of her body pressed into his. The weight she finally let go of when she collapsed into his arms.

That night wasn’t perfect.

It was raw. Messy. Unspoken.

But it was real.

More real than anything he’d felt in years.

And that scared him.

He sat in his apartment Friday night, still in his work clothes, phone resting in his palm. Her name—Aeri—sat quietly in his contacts, like a secret only he knew.

She hadn’t called.

He hadn’t texted.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to.

He just didn’t know how.

What do you say to someone who gave you a night that felt like a lifetime, then vanished like it was nothing?

He wanted to believe it wasn’t just physical. That she came to him not just out of loneliness, but because he mattered. Because they mattered.

But hope was a tricky thing. It made fools out of people. And he’d spent too much of his life learning how to avoid being one.

So instead, he tucked his phone into his drawer.

Out of sight. Not out of mind.

He leaned back against the couch, eyes closing for just a second.

She told him to keep his lines open.

And he would.

But he wasn’t holding his breath.

Still, some part of him—a quiet, stubborn part he couldn’t quite shut down—hoped.

Hoped she’d call.

Hoped this wasn’t the end.

Even if he tried not to admit it, even if he curbed his own longing just like she did…

He wanted more.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Oh, my God, of course you can, dear. And to make it interesting to read, make sure that Alastor makes a deal with Bill (that is, with us) 👏

Awesome! Thanks, love! I’m on it. Alastor x Bill Cipher! Reader/Us, genderneutral! I know I’ve been busy but sadly, life gets in the way as much as writer block does. Sorry that this is bad, Bill and Alastor being the best toxic ‘partners’ go brrrrr~

Alastor- the Weirdmageddon

Alastor is infamously known as the strongest, the greatest, the most influential Overlord in Hell’s history… but his power is much more artificial than people ever suspected, yet. He also refuses to accept that as a fact, he wants to believe his power is his. It was only boosted by the figure who owns him, not granted by the figure who owns him

Sadly… that’s not the case. He’s only overwhelmingly authoritative because of you, called under the simple name ‘Cipher’. Making a deal with you, you granted him a alternately-sourced chunk of your immense power in exchange for him serving you as you please

As mutual give and take partners in crime

Alastor despises it… he despises being chained. He despises being the servant of a demonic entity so above him that they can turn him into a decoration banner with a snap of their fingers. Said demonic entity, being you, is a multidimensional threat that Hell had never seen

Often shaped in the form of a big limbed floating one eyed triangle, you’ve never shown your true form. It makes you terrifying in reality; nobody, not even Alastor knows your power’s true vast limits. Alastor always remembers the day he had sold his soul to you so fluently

In 1937, deep within Hell almost four years after his earth-life death, where Alastor barely had any position, any power, any recognition, any influence within this agitating city full of prissy high-ranks. He had to figure out a way to get what he wanted so he stumbled his way upon a library that had a eyecatching journal consisting a number of odd concepts, unknown mysteries but he only cares about one thing

Cipher

A extremely powerful demonic entity, it’s unknown if they are a human soul or a hellborn manifested by Lucifer himself. Either way, they are so strong that a number of this thick dark old journal has urgent warnings of the following ‘do NOT summon at all causes’. Alastor had never been a man to follow the rules, he follows himself so he took that journal and under the cover of the blackish-red night

The soon-to-be-Radio Demon had set up a summoning ritual, consisting of a picture of a victim of choice with crossed out eyes, 8 lit candles placed in a circle as well as the incantation: "Triangulum, entangulum. meteforis dominus ventium”. Alastor knew this was pathetic, a waste of time but if he could possibly steal this Cipher’s power

He’d be unstoppable

As soon as he had finished the incantation, it felt like something had possessed him in that split second of a breath and forced him to mindlessly but passionately repeat another unknown backwards message repetitively dropped down onto a knee by a invisible force

Over and over in a menacing manner until the realm around him turned a slate gray, time slowed down instantaneously and a fiery-ringed triangle-shaped black portal manifested in the space above. Out popped you with a malicious insane laugh upon manifesting properly into existence

It actually worked! In like a blink, Alastor had successfully summoned his new victim! Cipher or you, in your triangle shapeshifted demonic form, floating down before him with an invisible grin. You speak up with a strong charming smooth tone of telepathy, you’re much smaller than he suspected. Whilst he snapped out of the weird brief ‘possession’ trance to gain back his composure and grace as a gentleman

“Wow. It’s been a while since I’ve even seen Hell! Hey, you’re a new face. Name’s Cipher. Tell me, are you the brand new dinner? Haha! I’m just kidding. I know who you are, Alastor”

You chime out with a cheerful almost child-like glee despite your obvious insanity, tipping off your cute tophat to him in a charming hats-off style bow. Floating before him effortlessly and your single huge eye following his every movements. Alastor may not be under the position he desires but he doesn’t fear you, he will take you out

He genuinely believes he has a chance to manipulate you into serving him… how up his ass he was to think so

“Enough, ‘dream demon’. I don’t have time to play your games when time is tight. I need you to work for me. As partners in crime, perhaps. A beneficial deal, we grant each other power and influence as well as find victims”

Alastor is very sharp-tongued, witty. He’s a good talker, he knows how to trick even the most suspicious people into believing him and siding him and he plans to exploit you and your immense power to take for his own. You’re an old smudge of the past, he deserves that power more than you do

“Ah. I’ve never had such a companion to rule this Realm with. I suppose, I can give your offer a chance if you help me with my something too”

You are not that easily tricked at all, you’re pretending to be. Pretending to be persuaded by Alastor’s charms, with only a few seconds of thinking beforehand. Since you’re equally as good at tricking and sly-talk, you can see the way the deer demon’s blood red eyes shine with delight from under his demeanour. You know he believes you’re more of a joke than that journal says you are

You can hear his thoughts clear as the next day… you know what he truly wants from you and he won’t get it. He won’t get it since you’ll take his soul as you do to everybody who summons you

“Deer teeth! Enjoy, my dear gentleman”

Where the Heaven did you get those? He had looked down at his own radio microphone for like a few seconds as to internally compose his next statement to subtly pressure you further into doing as he needs. Suddenly, you have a pile of freshly removed but in-that hell deer teeth in your soft smaller hands and you offer the pile to Alastor without even asking him or even letting him speak in response

Alastor doesn’t flinch at the fact he’s holding the teeth of a innocent yet cannibalistic doe or buck but the fact you dare to think he even has use with this so he glares right at you, cracking his infamous sharp yet dapper toothy grin and drops the pile on the floor. He’s bold enough to disrespect you since he believes you are now under him

You don’t even respond, just calmly and quietly floating before him with your big eye blinking sparsely at his rather harsh choice. You don’t mind that, it makes you laugh in-fact. You laugh almost a bit immaturely at him rejecting your ‘friendly gift’. You just know that he is a damn fool for thinking the way he is, you can see EVERYTHING

“I’m looking forward to playing with a pretty little face like yours~ hey? Is that skin natural or do you use face cream~”

Was… that your attempt at flirting? It seemed like it, pitiful. Your tone shifted briefly to a flirty smoother one and you leant your hand on your own… uh, triangle flat ‘cheek’. You’re doing it to amuse yourself, you don’t have much opinions of your new soul and only desire to get a reaction. However, you won’t deny… Alastor is a handsome man~

“Nonsense. What I may have is nothing compared to your radiant beauty. Look at you, so unique and important that this city fears you~ it’s my honour to work with you”

Alastor is using more subtle but fake flirting as to entice you, make you associate him with the concept of ‘reliable’ and a ‘friend’ piece by piece. He needs it, he needs to ensure you’re under his charms so you’ll give up your power to him and work for him as his owned soul

He was too clouded by his own confidence over his capabilities to realise you weren’t manipulated into being trapped under his thumb… even when he made that darn deal. He didn’t realise the deal you and him shook hands on that night wasn’t for your soul, it was for his… until too late. You gave him significant amount of power that he became the most powerful Overlord ever known in Hell, and he became your servant

The advantages and the disadvantages of being owned by you, Cipher

Leading him to where he is now, the current year. Parked up in the Hazbin Hotel to seek his own entertainment further. Alastor is on top of Pentagram City, everybody fears him, he owns several other demons, he’s incredibly infamous and terrifying but he had to give up his own soul and he had to rely on you to become so great…

He’s ashamed. He’s humiliated. But he won’t let anybody know the truth about him. Alastor may regret ever picking up that hastily-written mess of a journal almost eighty years ago but he doesn’t really regret what you’ve done for him

You’ve given him a vastly powerful position by just handing over a flame of your supremacy, you’ve given him the afterlife he desired and he supposes with honestly, little payment in return. Just his soul… you’ve let him stand where he is now, up in his Radio Tower. On the air but inbetween a commercial break, as to check over his script

The silence sends him back to that night so long ago, reminding him almost painfully what becoming your partner in crime has befallen on him… it’s bad but it’s good. It’s torturous yet therapeutic. He doesn’t truly know how to feel about his situation— he should be focusing on his show

You could be so much worse to deal with on a monthly basis. You are kinda charming. He KINDA likes you

[witchyintention]

So You Found a Deity—Now What?

Worship, Work With, Honor, or Venerate? Let’s Break It Down

We’ve all been there. You’re deep in your craft, casually stirring your tea clockwise for prosperity, and suddenly—boom—an energy shows up. A dream, a nudge, a name that keeps popping up. Maybe it’s Hekate, or Odin, or The Morrigan, or a local spirit you can’t quite name yet. You feel the call... but what now?

Do you worship them? Work with them? Honor them? Venerate them? Is there a form to fill out? (Just kidding. Kind of.)

Let’s demystify the divine dynamics.

Worship: Bowing with Reverence

Worship is the most formal and traditional of the bunch. Think temples, rituals, prayers, altars, and offerings designed to show reverence and devotion. It’s the language of religion—whether ancient or modern—and often includes:

Structured prayer or praise

Ritual offerings and feast days

Seeing the deity as supreme or greater than yourself

You might worship a deity if they are your patron/matron, a central figure in your personal cosmology, or if you come from a religious background that already involves this type of relationship (like Hellenism or Kemeticism).

Key Vibe: “You are divine, and I revere you with loyalty and devotion.”

Working With: Co-Creating with Consent

This is the freelancer-gig economy of deity relationships. Working with a deity is more like entering a partnership. You may not see them as a god above all, but you respect their domain and ask for their help on specific tasks.

Calling on Aphrodite for love work? That’s working with.

Asking Hermes for protection during travel? That’s working with.

This usually involves:

Rituals with a purpose

Offerings as payment or thanks

A mutual exchange of energy

You might not worship this deity daily—but you build a respectful working relationship. Boundaries are key, and consent from both sides is a must.

Key Vibe: “You’re powerful in this area. Let’s collaborate.”

Honoring: Recognition Without Expectation

Honoring a deity is like giving someone flowers without asking for anything back. It’s respect, gratitude, and attention, especially during key dates or festivals.

You might:

Light a candle in their name

Add a token to your altar

Mention them in prayer or meditation

Observe their feast day even if they’re not in your personal pantheon

This is common when you have ancestral deities, cultural gods, or deities you feel affinity for but don’t actively worship or work with.

Key Vibe: “I see you. I respect you. Thank you for existing.”

Veneration: Ancestor-Level Honor

Veneration is closely tied to ancestor worship and cultural heritage. It’s often used when talking about spirits, saints, and older gods in more traditional, often polytheistic systems. To venerate is to elevate someone through ritual and memory—to keep their name alive, even if you’re not “working” with them actively.

This includes:

Shrine maintenance

Periodic offerings

Speaking their name in reverence

Retelling their myths or stories

In many traditions (especially Hellenic, Roman, Slavic, and others), veneration is a communal act that connects the present with the past.

Key Vibe: “You are sacred. Your legacy lives through my actions.”

So What’s the Right Way?

Here’s the secret: there’s no one-size-fits-all way to relate to a deity. You might worship one, work with another, honor a few, and venerate your ancestral spirits. All are valid. All are powerful. What matters is that you’re clear in your intentions, respectful in your approach, and honest about your needs and capacity.

And if you’re unsure where you stand? Start small. Light a candle. Speak aloud. Journal your experiences. Divine with your cards. Let the relationship grow like any other—organically, with trust and communication.

Remember: The gods aren’t vending machines. They’re not customer service agents. They are forces, stories, memories, and entities that demand more than a trendy hashtag. But when you build that relationship? It’s like opening a door to something vast, wild, and beautifully old.

Whatever path you choose—worship, work with, honor, or venerate—walk it with intention. And maybe offer them a cup of tea now and then. The divine loves a good brew.