#entities: Cheap Trick

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi hi! I’m coming over here for a fluffy idea I had for series Ena. I just want more fluff tbh lmao

Maybe where the reader likes giving small trinkets to Ena and Ena wants to get them something back, but sadly has no clue on what to get them and feels bad. Then reader just makes Ena feel better knowing Ena is a good partner and that’s a gift on its own.

LEAVE ME ALONE AND MY FLUFF! 😭

Anyways- thank u for when you do this request!! Have a wonderful week! <3

"Ah, another fine addition to my infinite collection!" Ena hummed to herself as she set her most recently-received trinket on the shelf, taking a few steps back to admire it.

Yet again, you've found something truly fascinating for her.

This time, it was a cheap-looking giftbox with sharp teeth, which growled and tried to bite her like a feral animal. But while aggressive on the surface, it coughed up a sweet little surprise once she got permission to open its maw:

A simple note that expressed your utmost adoration for her.

Fitting, of course, as today marks one year of you two being a couple. She couldn't be happier, knowing you started your day thinking of her and finding this gift to leave on her doorstep.

Your giving habits didn't just start during this relationship, but they were persistent back when you two were just friends.

While you didn't initially know much of Ena's interests, you'd always find some interesting object. Things that reminded you of her, and even things you didn't think she'd find useful ended up helping her one way or another.

What often surprised her was that it could be a perfectly ordinary day, and you'd give her some new trinket simply because you can and wanted to. And not once have you expected anything in return.

There aren't enough words in the dictionary that could articulate her immense appreciation for you, being a caring and generous soul in a world where..not many people seemed to like her.

And yet, as she stared at her collection...one, singular thought began to linger in the back of her mind, but just thinking about it was enough to immediately bring it to the surface.

"Ohhh...what am I supposed to get them now??? I can't just give them nothing!!" She whined, her Sad side taking over, her gaze going to the ground. "I didn't even think we'd last this long! I'm....I'm awful!! They'll hate me forever!!!"

Sinking to the floor, she began to sob, unable to cope with the fact that even on this special day, she didn't have any gift ready for you.

She's been trying to find the perfect one--for days, in fact--but everything she touched has either glitched out of existence, dissolved into tiny particles, got stolen by someone else, or simply grew legs and ran away.

It's like the universe was playing cruel tricks on her.

Moony wasn't much help either, as eventually she got annoyed with Ena rejecting every possible item she showed her--being met with a "nope", "nada", "nay", or something to that degree.

The lunar entity was fed up, and rightfully called her out on it.

"You're their girlfriend, aren't you? I'm sure you'll figure something out in time."

Yet here she was, crying alone in her room, because she unfortunately could not figure it out in time.

What would you think?

"Hey Ena? Hope my gift didn't attack you or any......oh no. What's wrong??"

Through hiccups and static tears, Ena noticed you were now in her room, standing there with worry written all over your face.

You'd typically show up uninvited, so sometimes you'd catch her being either drunk, sad, or..well..normal. But it never bothered her. In fact she welcomed your visits every time.

Seeing you here now, however, only made her feel worse.

"I'm sowwy. I'm...I'm so selfish!" She shakily stood up and wobbled over to you, practically falling into your arms. "Just take back everything you gave me!! I don't deserve these nice things!!" She sobbed even louder.

"What? Of course you do." You held her steady, frowning. "Besides, it'd be pretty hard to return all that stuff now. Can I ask what made you think that? Did Moony make fun of your collection?"

"No, it's just...it's our anniversawy. You gave me the sweetest gift. And I...I twied so hard to find something perfect for you, but I failed! Admit it, I'm the worst girlfwiend ever!! I ruined everything!!"

Her words made your heart sink, especially as her Sad side was still not convinced you truly loved her and you weren't date her as a "joke". But you always knew what to say to make her feel better.

"None of that is true. Because you've already given me a gift."

Confused, she quieted down and looked at you, sniffling. "I...I did? When?"

"It's you, Ena. You're the best gift I could've ever received." Smiling, you held onto her shoulders, wanting her to see how serious you were. "Being my partner, making me laugh, showing me all that this world has to offer....you can't replace that with anything of material value."

"...is that twue? I'm...your gift?"

"Precisely. You don't have to get me anything to prove you love me. I already know you do."

She just looked at you for a few moments longer, before her face abruptly glitched back to normal. "Whew...that's a relief." Her yellow half smiled at you brightly. "Thank you for the reassurance, my dearest. I didn't mean to put a damper on our special day...that was rude of me."

"It's fine." You chuckled, holding her hands. "There's still plenty of time left in the day to make it special again."

"True! You know what? I heard about this new store opening nearby that may pique your interest. I'll buy you whatever your heart desires! That shall be my gift to you." She declared.

"...Ena, it's okay. You don't have to-"

"Nope! It's final. Say what you want, but I am determined to reciprocate your generosity!"

"....alright." You sighed in defeat, mirroring her smile. "I guess I can't argue with that. Let's go."

[mostlysignssomeportents]

There’s no such thing as “shareholder supremacy”

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

Here's a cheap trick: claim that your opponents' goals are so squishy and qualitative that no one will ever be able to say whether they've been succeeded or failed, and then declare that your goals can be evaluated using crisp, objective criteria.

This is the whole project of "economism," the idea that politics, with its emphasis on "fairness" and other intangibles, should be replaced with a mathematical form of economics, where every policy question can be reduced to an equation…and then "solved":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/28/imagine-a-horse/#perfectly-spherical-cows-of-uniform-density-on-a-frictionless-plane

Before the rise of economism, it was common to speak of its subjects as "political economy" or even "moral philosophy" (Adam Smith, the godfather of capitalism, considered himself a "moral philosopher"). "Political economy" implicitly recognizes that every policy has squishy, subjective, qualitative dimensions that don't readily boil down to math.

For example, if you're asking about whether people should have the "freedom" to enter into contracts, it might be useful to ask yourself how desperate your "free" subject might be, and whether the entity on the other side of that contract is very powerful. Otherwise you'll get "free contracts" like "I'll sell you my kidneys if you promise to evacuate my kid from the path of this wildfire."

The problem is that power is hard to represent faithfully in quantitative models. This may seem like a good reason to you to be skeptical of modeling, but for economism, it's a reason to pretend that the qualitative doesn't exist. The method is to incinerate those qualitative factors to produce a dubious quantitative residue and do math on that:

https://locusmag.com/2021/05/cory-doctorow-qualia/

Hence the famous Ely Devons quote: "If economists wished to study the horse, they wouldn’t go and look at horses. They’d sit in their studies and say to themselves, ‘What would I do if I were a horse?’"

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/27/economism/#what-would-i-do-if-i-were-a-horse

The neoliberal revolution was a triumph for economism. Neoliberal theorists like Milton Friedman replaced "political economy" with "law and economics," the idea that we should turn every one of our complicated, nuanced, contingent qualitative goals into a crispy defined "objective" criteria. Friedman and his merry band of Chicago School economists replaced traditional antitrust (which sought to curtail the corrupting power of large corporations) with a theory called "consumer welfare" that used mathematics to decide which monopolies were "efficient" and therefore good (spoiler: monopolists who paid Friedman's pals to do this mathematical analysis always turned out to be running "efficient" monopolies):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/20/we-should-not-endure-a-king/

One of Friedman's signal achievements was the theory of "shareholder supremacy." In 1970, the New York Times published Friedman's editorial "The Social Responsibility of Business Is to Increase Its Profits":

https://www.nytimes.com/1970/09/13/archives/a-friedman-doctrine-the-social-responsibility-of-business-is-to.html

In it, Friedman argued that corporate managers had exactly one job: to increase profits for shareholders. All other considerations – improving the community, making workers' lives better, donating to worthy causes or sponsoring a little league team – were out of bounds. Managers who wanted to improve the world should fund their causes out of their paychecks, not the corporate treasury.

Friedman cloaked his hymn to sociopathic greed in the mantle of objectivism. For capitalism to work, corporations have to solve the "principal-agent" problem, the notoriously thorny dilemma created when one person (the principal) asks another person (the agent) to act on their behalf, given the fact that the agent might find a way to line their own pockets at the principal's expense (for example, a restaurant server might get a bigger tip by offering to discount diners' meals).

Any company that is owned by stockholders and managed by a CEO and other top brass has a huge principal-agent problem, and yet, the limited liability, joint-stock company had produced untold riches, and was considered the ideal organization for "capital formation" by Friedman et al. In true economismist form, Friedman treated all the qualitative questions about the duty of a company as noise and edited them out of the equation, leaving behind a single, elegant formulation: "a manager is doing their job if they are trying to make as much money as possible for their shareholders."

Friedman's formulation was a hit. The business community ran wild with it. Investors mistook an editorial in the New York Times for an SEC rulemaking and sued corporate managers on the theory that they had a "fiduciary duty" to "maximize shareholder value" – and what's more, the courts bought it. Slowly and piecemeal at first, but bit by bit, the idea that rapacious greed was a legal obligation turned into an edifice of legal precedent. Business schools taught it, movies were made about it, and even critics absorbed the message, insisting that we needed to "repeal the law" that said that corporations had to elevate profit over all other consideration (not realizing that no such law existed).

It's easy to see why shareholder supremacy was so attractive for investors and their C-suite Renfields: it created a kind of moral crumple-zone. Whenever people got angry at you for being a greedy asshole, you could shrug and say, "My hands are tied: the law requires me to run the business this way – if you don't believe me, just ask my critics, who insist that we must get rid of this law!"

In a long feature for The American Prospect, Adam M Lowenstein tells the story of how shareholder supremacy eventually came into such wide disrepute that the business lobby felt that it had to do something about it:

https://prospect.org/power/2024-09-17-ponzi-scheme-of-promises/

It starts in 2018, when Jamie Dimon and Warren Buffett decried the short-term, quarterly thinking in corporate management as bad for business's long-term health. When Washington Post columnist Steve Pearlstein wrote a column agreeing with them and arguing that even moreso, businesses should think about equities other than shareholder returns, Jamie Dimon lost his shit and called Pearlstein to call it "the stupidest fucking column I’ve ever read":

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2018/06/07/will-ending-quarterly-earnings-guidance-free-ceos-to-think-long-term/

But the dam had broken. In the months and years that followed, the Business Roundtable would adopt a series of statements that repudiated shareholder supremacy, though of course they didn't admit it. Rather, they insisted that they were clarifying that they'd always thought that sometimes not being a greedy asshole could be good for business, too. Though these statements were nonbinding, and though the CEOs who signed them did so in their personal capacity and not on behalf of their companies, capitalism's most rabid stans treated this as an existential crisis.

Lowenstein identifies this as the forerunner to today's panic over "woke corporations" and "DEI," and – just as with "woke capitalism" – the whole thing amounted to a a PR exercise. Lowenstein links to several studies that found that the CEOs who signed onto statements endorsing "stakeholder capitalism" were "more likely to lay off employees during COVID-19, were less inclined to contribute to pandemic relief efforts, had 'higher rates of environmental and labor-related compliance violations,”' emitted more carbon into the atmosphere, and spent more money on dividends and buybacks."

One researcher concluded that "signing this statement had zero positive effect":

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2020/08/companies-stand-solidarity-are-licensing-themselves-discriminate/614947

So shareholder supremacy isn't a legal obligation, and statements repudiating shareholder supremacy don't make companies act any better.

But there's an even more fundamental flaw in the argument for the shareholder supremacy rule: it's impossible to know if the rule has been broken.

The shareholder supremacy rule is an unfalsifiable proposition. A CEO can cut wages and lay off workers and claim that it's good for profits because the retained earnings can be paid as a dividend. A CEO can raise wages and hire more people and claim it's good for profits because it will stop important employees from defecting and attract the talent needed to win market share and spin up new products.

A CEO can spend less on marketing and claim it's a cost-savings. A CEO can spend more on marketing and claim it's an investment. A CEO can eliminate products and call it a savings. A CEO can add products and claim they're expansions into new segments. A CEO can settle a lawsuit and claim they're saving money on court fees. A CEO can fight a lawsuit through to the final appeal and claim that they're doing it to scare vexatious litigants away by demonstrating their mettle.

CEOs can use cheaper, inferior materials and claim it's a savings. They can use premium materials and claim it's a competitive advantage that will produce new profits. Everything a company does can be colorably claimed as an attempt to save or make money, from sponsoring the local little league softball team to treating effluent to handing ownership of corporate landholdings to perpetual trusts that designate them as wildlife sanctuaries.

Bribes, campaign contributions, onshoring, offshoring, criminal conspiracies and conference sponsorships – there's a business case for all of these being in line with shareholder supremacy.

Take Boeing: when the company smashed its unions and relocated key production to scab plants in red states, when it forced out whistleblowers and senior engineers who cared about quality, when it outsourced design and production to shops around the world, it realized a savings. Today, between strikes, fines, lawsuits, and a mountain of self-inflicted reputational harm, the company is on the brink of ruin. Was Boeing good to its shareholders? Well, sure – the shareholders who cashed out before all the shit hit the fan made out well. Shareholders with a buy-and-hold posture (like the index funds that can't sell their Boeing holdings so long as the company is in the S&P500) got screwed.

Right wing economists criticize the left for caring too much about "how big a slice of the pie they're getting" rather than focusing on "growing the pie." But that's exactly what Boeing management did – while claiming to be slaves to Friedman's shareholder supremacy. They focused on getting a bigger slice of the pie, screwing their workers, suppliers and customers in the process, and, in so doing, they made the pie so much smaller that it's in danger of disappearing altogether.

Here's the principal-agent problem in action: Boeing management earned bonuses by engaging in corporate autophagia, devouring the company from within. Now, long-term shareholders are paying the price. Far from solving the principal-agent problem with a clean, bright-line rule about how managers should behave, shareholder supremacy is a charter for doing whatever the fuck a CEO feels like doing. It's the squishiest rule imaginable: if someone calls you cruel, you can blame the rule and say you had no choice. If someone calls you feckless, you can blame the rule and say you had no choice. It's an excuse for every season.

The idea that you can reduce complex political questions – like whether workers should get a raise or whether shareholders should get a dividend – to a mathematical rule is a cheap sleight of hand. The trick is an obvious one: the stuff I want to do is empirically justified, while the things you want are based in impossible-to-pin-down appeals to emotion and its handmaiden, ethics. Facts don't care about your feelings, man.

But it's feelings all the way down. Milton Friedman's idol-worshiping cult of shareholder supremacy was never about empiricism and objectivity. It's merely a gimmick to make greed seem scientifically optimal.

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

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/18/falsifiability/#figleaves-not-rubrics/a>

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐎 (𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄) ❞

c/w: spoilers for 261, angst, possible happy ending? i'm so sorry lmao.

Body and soul — many in jujutsu had spent millennia contemplating the connection between these two — were they two separate entities co-existing, or were they always one, until they parted in death? And even if they were to part — does the soul still linger? 

You didn’t know — and you didn’t care. 

“What do you mean you don’t care what happens to your body?” Satoru wiped the blood from his hands, before brushing past you to wash it in the sink, diluted scarlet swirling down the drain just as your stomach had upon hearing what he said. 

You only knew that your heart belonged to one man. And he would take it with him with his death. Even as he left his body behind. But your heart wasn’t your concern, no, his body was. 

“Sweetheart—“ 

“No, don’t,” you already know what he’s going to say — a quick witted joke that you have no faith in him, empty reassurance that he’ll win — anything but an answer to your question, “I don’t know how people call you uncaring, the only person you don’t care for is yourself,” 

The Strongest. The Six Eyes User. The Gojo Clan Leader. Anything — anything but calling him who he is — Satoru Gojo. 

He’s shaking his head. “I’m not going to lose, so it’s a pointless—“ 

“Satoru,” and you grit your teeth, wondering if your words were a curse themselves, and that you dare not utter them, but you do anyway, “you don’t know that. Not for sure,” your words are a whisper, one you think wouldn’t be heard and manifested by a higher power — because you know that jujutsu is too cruel not to. 

“What is a dead body? I’ll be gone,” his back still faces you, wiping his hands off, and you’re shaking your head, “the body and soul—“ 

“They are one, in far too many ways—“ your eyes burn with tears as you hear his sigh, “so Geto’s body deserves a burial, but yours doesn’t?” 

You stab at a nerve — it’s a low blow, but one you had to deal, if only to get through that damned infinity of his — the wall he had kept up, even with you. Close, but never close enough. 

“Don’t—“ he cuts you off, gentle but hard, sword hitting shield, sparks fly as the metal meets, “it’s different—“ 

“How?” 

“I gave my consent, for one,” he says, his hands leaning against sink, head hanging, “and my body isn’t being used for a cheap trick,” and the bitterness still lingers on his tongue, and you know the moment flashes before his eyes, again and again — if he hadn’t hesitated, if he hadn’t let the past hold him, if he didn’t been such a fool—  “they need me—“ 

You need him. 

“I know, I know they need you,” you swallow the bile rising in your throat, but you spit acid all the same, “but do they have to take your dead body too?” 

And he finally turns, skies softening when they see the drops slipping down your cheeks, and his steps echo in the silence of the bunker, hollow just as this conversation was, “Y’know I have to,” 

“I know that, I know Yuta is making the right choice, it’s for the good of everyone,” except you, except us, “but it doesn’t make it any less difficult,” 

And his arms wind their way around you, pressing you against him, his fingers winding through your hair, “I’m going to come back to you,” hands sliding down your sides, “I always will,” 

“It’s not just this,” your fingers cup his cheek, his face leaning into your touch, “you’re not alone, Toru. I’m here.” 

“You’re here, huh?” he murmurs, more to himself than you, “if I die, you have my full permission to kick my ass,” 

“And I will be,” you kiss him, fingers sliding to the nape of his neck, brushing against his undercut, “I don’t care about the strongest,” your lips brush soft kisses against your cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead, before finally finding his lips, “I only care about Satoru Gojo, I just need you, only you,”

He presses his forehead to yours, nose brushing his, “You have me,” but you didn’t know for how long, how long you could touch his cheek like this and not feel cold rigid skin underneath your fingertips, how long you could kiss his lips and have him kiss back, and how long it would be until you could hold his hand again, “and you have my heart,” and he gives a small chuckle, “maybe not the part everyone wants—“ 

“It’s the one I want,” you cut him off with a soft kiss, “I want all of you, every inch, but your heart? That already is mine,” your head pressed against his chest, feeling the muscle contract underneath, as if it would reassure you that it would keep doing that. 

But it didn’t. 

“I’ll stay,” Shoko furrows her brow, “he would want me to,” Satoru Gojo’s body laid on a slab of cold metal,  cold as his skin was now — and cold as your heart was now, without the warmth of his love to dwell in. Ugly stitches marred his stomach, right where Sukuna had sliced through him — you watched it, you couldn’t look away, and you watched the smile on his lips until it fell slack. 

Just like the rest of him. 

“He would understand why you couldn’t—“ 

“It really did upset him that you didn’t object,” and Shoko’s mouth opens and closes, her eyes shutting, “but I know that’s only because you had faith he would win,” and you add, “and he knew that too — he was just pouting, what he does best,” and your fingers trace over his lips — Shoko had done a good job cleaning the blood from his face, “did best,” and Shoko frowns again. 

“You don’t—“ 

“I’m his wife,” you say, “for better or worse, it’s my duty to stay with him, it’s the least he deserves,” your fingers skin over his forehead, before pressing a sweet kiss to the rigid skin, knowing that the smooth skin would be overwritten with jagged stitches — the thread pulled from the fabric of your own life that laid before you, leaving you in pieces, “because he may be a monster, but all of us are the real devils — for letting him bear it alone,” and you shake your head, a tear slipping down your cheek, “I won’t make that mistake again,” 

You miss who you you used to be without this weight around your neck, desd bodies piled on top of your back, back broken under the grief, and yet you still walked on. Because you know it’s what he would have wanted, as his ghost whispers in your ear. 

Body and soul — if it was one, you wondered if he could feel your touch, sense your presence, and hear your words. And you hoped he could — but you know he was listening somewhere either way, so you whispered the only words you meant with your entire heart and soul—

“I love you," you murmur, before turning away — you don't see the way his fingers twitch for you.

Those words were still a curse all the same.

[d34dlysinner]

Can you do one where Satan is fcking us in his demon form?👉👈?☺️

(Amazing. I assume you mean this with "his demon form"😭✨️🧎‍♀️)

"Wha-", was all you could say out of shock as you felt two unusually strong arms wrap around you.

"Satan?" You asked as you tried to turn your face towards him, but you stopped turning when you heard his deep voice get deeper: "I heard one of your little fantasies was something about a monster form. We should make that fantasy become reality." He said with a chuckle as you felt warm air being blown your direction.

The voice and the air was enough to make you shiver as you started thinking about his words.

"Monster form?...", you mumbled as you were turned around to see a big grey entity with a dangerous aura surrounding him holding you.

He stared down at you as his arms move to hold you tighter. "Are you ready?", he asked while chuckling at your stunned reaction. You could almost see his usual smug face he makes while always teasing you.

You nodded before challenging him. "I am ready, but are you?", you said looking up at him with a confident demeanor. He would burst out laughing as he always does when you make things interesting.

He lifted you up to kiss you deeply and you returned the gesture. You felt his long tongue intrude your mouth, fighting against yours. The passionate kiss turned into you softly biting his lip as a way to try and overpower him in the kiss. You could feel him smile in the kiss as his hands started to rip off your clothes, one of his hands hovering over the skin of your ass before giving it a spank. You gasped at the sudden impact resulting in you detaching from his lips, a string of saliva being the only thing that connected your lips. You felt him lick of the string before he moved down towards your neck, biting and sucking harshly on the skin, only pulling away from your neck to admire his work. He slowly pushed you towards the bed as he continued his work on your chest. You felt his hand roam towards your private area, teasing you by only grazing the skin down there.

You felt as if you would go insane if he continued this for a while longer so you tried to fight back by stimulating him. You grabbed his horns and started to slowly pump it, resulting in a low groan to be heard from him. "That's a cheap trick...", he says as he pulled away. He placed his fingers against your lips before pushing them into your mouth. You sucked around the fingers, swirling your tongue over them before he took them out of your mouth. You felt him place those fingers against your hole before he slowly pushed in, moving his fingers in and out. You felt every single digit move to different directions as he was preparing you to take his dick soon. You moaned softly, or you tried atleast, at the feeling of the big fingers moving inside of you until he started kissing you again. It felt as if he was devouring every moans you produced as he almost didn't allow you to breathe.

You panted as he pulled away for a second before capturing your lips again.

You felt dizzy at the stimulation and the lack of oxygen as your hands also started to travel too. You tried to wrap one hand around his dick, barely being able to make the tips of your fingers touch. You slowly pumped his dick, trying to match his rhythm. At times you'd tease him by softly tracing over the veins or the tip of his dick before you'd start pumping it again.

He noticed you slowly arching your back as you started to feel close to cumming, only to have the feeling disappear the moment he pulled his fingers out. You whimpered in protest and reached your hand down, trying to finish what he started. He stopped you from doing that by holding your wrists down. He eventually pulled away from your lips and hand before lining himself up with your hole. "Seeing how you're so desperate to cum I'll just make it easy for you.", he said in a teasing tone as he pushed his tip against your hole. You moved against his dick asking him to push into you. He chuckled his hand letting go of your wrists to hold your legs. He pushed your legs towards your chest and pushed in slowly. You gasped at the size as you started to feel full. "I'm not fully in... stay relaxed.", he groaned as he felt you tense up. The feeling of your tight hole making him dig his nails into your legs as a loud moan left his lips. He continued to try and push in the rest of his length without hurting you too much. You felt his balls press against you for a second before he started to thrust into you softly. You moaned softly as you felt his pace quicken resulting you to become louder with every thrust.

The bed started to creak softly. He bends down, pushing you into a mating press. His claws gripping the mattress beside your head.

You'd hear him growl softly with every thrust as he kept his pace steady. He stared down at you as if he's observing you. You started to feel close again only to be teased again by him pulling out as rubbing his dick against your leg. You started to tear up at being denied from cumming.

"Don't stop-...", you say as you tried to rub against him. He chuckled as he kept you down as he rubbed against your hole again.

You were so close at release that you started asking him 'nicely' "Can you continue?... I want to finish. Satan-", you asked as you felt him continuing to tease him. He kept silent and looked at you as if he was trying to mock you for being so well behaved. It started to annoy you.

You tried fighting against his grip. Pushing your hands against the massive shoulders, but he didn't budge. You tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you go. "Satan. Continue." You started to demand in annoyance, but he only chuckled as a response. You glared up at him as you spankee him to try and get another reaction out of him. He just smiled as if he was watching a good show unfold before him.

"Satan you don't continue I'll Agh-", you were interrupted by him pushing himself in again this time thrusting harshly with an insane smile on his face. "You're cute when you're angry.", he said laughing.

He watched you frown up at him as he continued pushing in and out of you. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin almost echoing in the room. You felt close again and tried to wrap your legs around his waist, not wanting him to escape again.

He was still smiling down at you and you started to become suspicious. "Don't you dare pull out again.", you said to which he responded with: "I'm not going to."

You looked at him in confusion at the way he said those words, that's when you felt something else filling you up. You came soon after and gasped at the sensation as your legs tried to close. "That's not going to happen... are you ready to take all of me?", he says playfully, but you could notice that he was being serious about his words.

You trembled when he slowly started to thrust again. "Are you ready to take all of me?", he asked again sounding demanding for a proper answer.

"Yes-", was all you could mutter before he started plowing into you harshly again.

He chuckled at your shock which was accompanied with a loud moan. Your mind started going hazy with pleasure as you tried to pull him down again for another heated kiss.

"Greedy for more?", he teased before he returned your kiss.

[soupdrinkinglincoln]

Okay. Okay. That episode was. Well. I’m feeling a little mixed about it. I don’t really know what to think. It had highs for me, and it had lows. And I guess it’s time for me to discuss them now. So let’s start at the most obvious point with Rohan Kishibe.

-Yeah, let’s be absolutely clear. I’d like to think that I’m a self aware JoJo fan, and I can share without doubt that we’re an annoying bunch of arseholes. Spamming the comment section of every song mentioned on the show is funny to very few, and the joke of ‘Was that a JoJo reference?’ in response to anything got old five years back. With that said, I refuse to believe that the show writers managed to almost perfectly replicate the Cheap Trick storyline without having watched the episode. There is something on your back and if you show your back to anyone, they’re sentenced to death. If you die, it moves to whoever your killer is. It’s only power is to talk- it will whisper in your ear until you go mad, and it will spread almost infinitely. This thing is Cheap Trick. Like, to a suspicious degree. But as for the thing itself…

-I think we can all agree that the Weeping Angels have been killed, right? Like, they’re a joke. They’re as threatening as modern Daleks. And that sucks. Because honestly I wouldn’t want them gone from the Matt Smith seasons (okay I don’t really care if they leave the show forever when they take Amy and Rory with them because that feels like a great final story for them) but I think that we can all agree that they’d be way more horrific if they just stayed in Blink. That they’d have played in the minds of Whovians for years. Like the Vashta Nerada did, that never came back and that are still absolutely awful to remember! And the Midnight- okay yeah. This episode, whether it’s seen positively or not years down the line, will always be seen as the Midnight Entity’s ‘Walk like you can see’ Flesh and Stone. And I appreciate their discretion in not showing us much of it, but I still think that seeing anything at all is a disservice. And maybe I would be up and down, hootering and hollering at the planet reveal, but I’d already been spoiled that there’d be a Tennant cameo and that this was a sequel to an old episode by a news article. And as much as I really wanted that episode to be The Impossible Planet, I kinda knew it would be Midnight. The fact that it mirrors that episodes themes was nice, but like, I think the show would have been better off if Midnight never returned. I mean if they want something they could use it could have been the perfect predators from Hide but you know, can’t bait Tennant with that less-beloved episode.

-Honestly I don’t think we needed to see Anita Dobson this episode either. Maybe the reveal will be worth it but she did seem kinda shoehorned in this time to me, and… I don’t know. This hasn’t been my favourite episode. Maybe I’ll come back and enjoy it more later. When everyone saw the Timeless Child stuff they all, me included, clamoured to the conclusion that ‘this has ruined Doctor Who!’ And then, you know, it didn’t ruin Doctor Who. So maybe in time we’ll realise, this didn’t ruin the Midnight entity. But we’ll just have to wait and see.

Anyway next week Ruby Sunday comes back. Hope that’s going to be a fun one. I’ll be there for it anyhow, and I’ll be sure to report on what I think.

[kitzatara]

Zatanna in Batman Full Moon Rant

I have a major problem with Batman: Full Moon. I genuinely wish they would’ve just left Zatanna out of it because that’s really the only major flaw in the story. The treatment of Zee as a woman and with her powers.

We’ll start with her power, in the story Zatanna is unable to cure Batman of Lycanthropy. This is ridiculous, because there is simply no reason why her magic wouldn’t be able to counter a werewolf. Not only does her magic work on far more powerful beings and entities, but she’s also reversed more powerful curses. There’s genuinely 100+ ways she could handle a lycan before we even get to the possibility of reversing the curse directly.

To be abundantly clear she has undone a similar curse already in the past. She was able to revert an entire pack of werehyenas, revert mutated humans, and even once reverted Swamp Thing back to his human form. I cannot overstate how easy it would be for Zee to undo a werewolf curse. Because mind you she was even capable of separating the Spectre from his power.

Separating Bruce’s soul from a werewolf curse should be a cake walk. And what makes it worse is that there is no actual explanation or reason given as to why her magic doesn’t work. Just a flimsy “it didn’t work.”

Then the icing on the cake was her saying she needed John’s power. This part was laughable because he is canonically far weaker than her and has said so numerous times. Additionally he has lost every fight they’ve ever had. John is a conman. He is cunning and crafty, not a powerhouse. Zee certainly doesn’t need his power for a lycan. But even if she did, their combined power does little more than knock it out. And while I may not particularly like him, he and Zatanna are the best of the best. Zatanna alone not being able to handle a werewolf is ridiculous, but the combined might of Zatanna AND Constantine? That is borderline insane.

I honestly think writers tend to mistake Zatanna as some random conjuror of cheap tricks. When she is a literal sorceress supreme, capable of handling cosmic entities and going toe to toe with gods. She is insanely powerful, knowledgeable and adept. Like I’m sorry but do not put her in your book if you don’t intend to respect that. It reeks of sexism that she is consistently nerfed and underutilized all in favor of propping up male heroes like Batman and John.

And if the ignoring of her established power wasn’t enough. The way she’s treated in the book was very odd. Constantine is constantly harassing her, making exclusively sexual remarks towards her when she is in a relationship with Bruce currently. He’s Practically begging her for sex while she constantly rebukes him. He also goes behind her back to give batman silver bullets because her optimism in the face of her nigh unlimited powers randomly not working, is treated as naivety.

I’m just so tired of story's sacrificing Zatanna's, powers, and character. Genuinely she did not need to be in this book. Since she has little to no effect on the plot whatsoever, Is a prize for Bruce and John to win, and her power is essentially absent.

I give this appearance of Zatanna a 1/10, and it only gets a 1 because she does do nonverbal magic a bit. So at least there’s that. That’s all, thanks for reading if you did

[theperfectquestion]

ARE YOU THERE, GOD? IT'S ME, DEAN

The Venture Bros. approach to God Almighty is in line with its approach to all authority: one more rubber mask on one more old weirdo.

A revelation hit me during a recent rewatch of adult swim's long-running animated pastiche of adventure fiction, The Venture Bros. It is such a large scale Biblical relevation that I can't believe I didn't notice it before: Yahweh, the Lord of the Old Testament, is a recurring minor character, voiced by Archer and Bob Burger's H. Jon Benjamin.

For the uninitiated, one of the supporting players in The Venture Bros. is Doctor Orpheus, who rents rooms from Doc 'Rusty' Venture, the father of the titular twins. Doctor Orpheus is one of my favourite characters in the show, because he is a protagonist of a whole other pulp fiction genre who is comfortable being a secondary character in the world of The Venture Bros.

Orpheus is a mix of Doctor Strange any number of Christopher Lee's characters from Hammer Horror films. He looks like Vincent Price in those occasions when he is being chummy with Kermit the Frog. And this Sorceror Supreme, who guards the very fabric of reality from unfathomable peril, who commands his own super-team with its own villains and long-term plots, serves the sitcom role of kindly but wacky neighbour, and the father of young Dean Venture's hopeless love interest, Triana.

A brilliant recurring joke is that, although magic is definitely real in the universe of The Venture Bros., and that Doctor Orpheus unquestionably has talents that bring the entire nature of reality into question, Doc Venture refuses to acknowledge or respect magic. As a former boy adventurer, he has seen so many supernatural threats pulled out from under their rubber masks that, as an adult, he simply doesn't waste a microsecond of his time considering magic as anything other than a cheap trick. Doctor Orpheus is often torn between defefending his professional pride and placating his often unkind landlord.

There's a lot to Doctor Orpheus, but the aspect I'd like to focus on is the fact that he regularly visits an extradimensional entity in his daughter's closet. Orpheus' command of spatial dimensions is dealt with matter-of-factly: his rooms are physically located elsewhere, and the abandoned arachnid research centre he rents on the Venture property is just a convenient place to warp space so that he can access them from Colorado. You see, Doctor Orpheus is recently divorced, and retains full custody of his teenage daughter, Triana. One has to read between the lines here, but presumably the Venture Compound is close to where Triana's mother has moved, and this extradimensional trick is a way for Triana to be able to visit her mother while being legally resident at his address. The fact that this is treated so casually is a joke in itself, and is another Definitely Magical thing that Rusty completely ignores, though there may be some connection between Doctor Orpheus' rooms and the reason why Rusty, who is a notoriously workshy and light-fingered kind of super-scientist, is able to produce the world's first functional teleporter later on in the series.

So with all this malarky being commonplace, it is only a small elaboration to say that, within Doctor Orpheus' house, there is a portal to another dimension. But due to some magical snarl he can't straighten out, the portal is located inside his daughter's wardrobe. Orpheus goes inside the closet to talk to the Master.

The Master, all all-knowing, shape-shifting entity who lives beyond time and space and who mentors Doctor Orpheus in the magical arts (though, in practice, we see him act more of a life coach), is presented without ceremony or occasion. Even his flat voice which, as mentioned, is from the proudly rangeless but reliably hilarious mouth of H. Jon Benjamin, undercuts the enormity of his presence. The Master seems to spend most of his mental energy coming up with live-action productions of custom Aesop's Fables for Orpheus using his shape-shifting abilities and, occasionally, a put-upon assistant. These morality plays seem to always, by accident or design, lead to the Master getting his rocks off in some way or another. The Master's horniness seem to cast him in the mold of a Tibetan vajrācārya - after all, if Orpheus is Doctor Strange, then the Master is his Ancient One, who is vaguely Tibetan in origin. The joke is that rather than being enigmatic, the Master blurts out the morals and meanings of his koans almost immediately. But then in the Season 4 episode, 'The Better Man,' the Master shows that he may have origins further West.

So in that episode Triana, Doctor Orpheus' daughter, enters her closet and unexpectedly encounters the Master. We have established before that only Orpheus can enter the Master's realm. The Master of course was expecting her and has assumed a form to deliver a parable. In the form of an adult Dean Venture, the Master reveals that Dean is an artificially produced clone, insists that his genes are therefore polluted, and expresses profound disgust at the fact that Dean is uncircumcised. He outright tells Triana to leave the Venture Compound to live with her mother and claim her birthright as her mother's pupil.

To me, all this feels very unlike something a Tibetan Tantric Master would say. All this talk of bloodlines, foreskins and abominations makes me suspect that the Master is actually Yahweh, the God of the Old Testament, in one of his burning bush moods. Now, in any other show, the existence of God Almighty living in a character's wardrobe might be more of a big deal. You could certainly build an entire series around that exact premise. But it is perfectly consistent for The Venture Bros. to present the ultimate authority of the Universe as a funny side character who appears in four episodes and has only a small bearing on the plot. That's all in a day's work for The Venture Bros., a show that shares Rusty's deep-rooted skepticism of any and all authority figures and the structures that support them.

For example, we meet the President of the United States on one occasion and he is a crass, childish buffoon who spouts out reheated Clinton jokes. That's fairly run-of-the-mill, but the secret agent characters of The Venture Bros. often invoke the Secret President. We never meet Secret President, and the character who is most likely to have encountered them in person, General Timothy Treister, talks about Secret President in the tone of voice a 13 year old would use to brag about their girlfriend in Canada. As it is, we're given no reason why there should be a Secret President or what function they serve, except to give spies something to brag about. In the United States of The Venture Bros., the fake President is an idiot and the real President doesn't do anything.

The pattern repeats: the diabolical Guild of Calamitous Intent, which dominates the world of professional villany, is governed by a board of shadowy figures who, once we get to know them, are all either has-beens or senile and I've of them is literally a clown. Their leader, The Sovereign, appears either as an intimidating floating head like The Wizard of Oz or as David Bowie, though we learn later he is just a shapeshifter who takes the form of David Bowie because he wants to be cool. The Guild goes through a few changes of management throughout the series, but it doesn't really matter who is at the top - the whole operation is run by two admin goofuses who are perfectly content to prop up a desk and pee in bottles.

Even when we meet the Illuminati, the chosen powerful few who work behind the scenes to keep the torch of civilisation alive by managing technological progress, they turn out to be a VR simulation designed to allow intelligence agencies to hoard the best gizmos for themselves.

When Doctor Orpheus detects the presence of a malicious evil so great that he nearly suffers a panic attack - Doctor Orpheus, who routinely travels to Hell and back without too much trouble - an unholy entity that turns out to be a vintage AI built by Rusty's father, this unspeakable Satan is easily distracted by a roll of old videotape projected onto her camera.

This is a world where it is rubber masks all the way down. Anybody who presents themselves as an authority is invariably mistaken. Doomsday devices are easily defused, or revealed to have never been anything of the sort. Secret are kept by braggarts, heroes are hollow, crowns are held by those who couldn't find a chair when the music stopped, and power is a ball that is always fumbled. So why wouldn't God Almighty live in a teenager's closet, licking his balls, obsessing over foreskins, while the world muddled along without Him?

[afraid--of--monsters]

The Mandela Catalogue, first impression, without spoilers.

I’ve just watched Vol. 1-2-3, and I am ABSOLUTELY in love with this horror series created by a 21-year-old talent, Alex.

Let me start by saying—this kind of horror could never have been made with commercial intent. What I mean is, this new genre was born and can only truly thrive within the indie scene. I can’t imagine a scenario where any major film studio would create something like this. The economic risks, the unconventional storytelling, the low box office potential, the moral boundaries that corporations can’t afford to cross—all of it makes this an impossible project for the mainstream industry.

And that’s exactly why I adore indie horror. You get to witness a genre being born right before your eyes. In this case - analog horror.

The main antagonists of this horror universe are the Alternates.

Who are the Alternates?

Alternates are supernatural entities capable of taking human form and imitating human behavior. They spreading terror in ways that are deeply unsettling.

Key characteristics of the Alternates:

Imitation of humans – They copy the appearance, voice, and mannerisms of their victims.

Uncanny behavior – Their unnatural facial expressions, distorted voices, and body movements betray their inhuman nature.

Psychological terror – They don’t just kill. They drive their victims to madness or even suicide.

Mysterious origins – There are hints that their existence is tied to some kind of paranormal or demonic interference.

Threat classification system – The world within the story has a warning system to alert people about Alternate activity and provide survival guidelines.

What Fascinated Me the Most?

The fact that the Alternates are, in a way, Alex himself.

He doesn’t shove horror in our faces. He doesn’t rely on cheap jump scares. Instead, he crafts an atmosphere so deeply unsettling that our own minds do the rest.

Take a look at this image:

Even without seeing the horrific image, I had already generated something that scared me. Although these are just silhouettes, trying to imagine what it might look like, honestly, gives me goosebumps.

This is what I love about horror—when it’s about atmosphere, not just things jumping at your screen. I’ve seen enough horror tricks to be desensitized to most of them, but The Mandela Catalogue is something special. P.s:There is a lot I would like to discuss, but I don't want to spoil the plot for those who will see it and are interested, better experience it for yourself. It worth your time.

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

Here we go again. Another institution, brimming with self-righteous faux outrage, is trying to airbrush JK Rowling’s name out of history. This time it’s the turn of the Museum of Pop Culture (MoPOP) in Seattle, Washington, which has removed the world-famous author’s name from its Harry Potter exhibition. Last week, the museum announced that while it will continue to display memorabilia from the Harry Potter books and films, it wants no association with their supposedly problematic creator.

Explaining the decision in a 1,400-word blog, the museum’s exhibitions project manager, Chris Moore, brands Rowling a ‘cold, heartless, joy-sucking entity’. Moore, who identifies as trans and uses ‘he / them’ pronouns, takes exception to Rowling’s ongoing interest in preserving women’s hard-won rights over the ‘right of anyone who insists they are who they say they are’. Once again, Rowling’s reasonable and rational defence of women’s sex-based rights is being presented disingenuously as ‘hateful’ or ‘harmful’ towards transgender people, and therefore deserving of cancellation.

Moore even seems to think it would be better if Rowling had never existed. ‘We would love to go with the internet’s theory that these books were actually written without an author’, he writes, ‘but this certain person is a bit too vocal with her super hateful and divisive views to be ignored’.

Strikingly, Moore goes a few steps further than most of Rowling’s critics. He doesn’t just accuse her of transphobia. He also accuses the Harry Potter books of peddling ‘racial stereotypes’, promoting ‘fat shaming’ and, perhaps most heinous of all, lacking ‘LGBTQIA+ representation’. Surely to goodness there must have been a few pansexual / nonbinary students in the imaginary, magical school of Hogwarts? Shame on JKR for not giving them a voice, eh? The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, might have been gay, but apparently that’s not enough in our world of 764 genders.

I find myself torn about this particular non-event, to be perfectly honest. On the one hand, I realise this is simply the latest in a long line of attempts to shut Rowling up. ‘I saw Goody Rowling, in the barn, consorting with the devil!’ is the tone of every such outburst. By now, these tricks have become cheap and obvious to anyone observing closely. The smears are always baseless.

On the other hand, the attempts to erase Rowling are deadly serious. Each attempted takedown inevitably leads to her receiving the vilest, cruellest abuse. Abuse which, if you’ve ever taken the time to read it, contains some of the most horrific things one human could say to or about another. Rowling is no doubt a tower of strength and resilience, having been on the receiving end of this bile for years. But it’s probably still having an effect on her, deep down.

Perhaps there is an upside to this stunt by Moore and the MoPOP, however. Removing Rowling’s name from the museum, and condemning her as ‘super hateful’, is so infantile that most right-thinking people will likely see it for the foolishness it really is. Sunlight, on occasions such as these, has a remarkable effect of highlighting the absurd and often cruel behaviour of the gender ideologues. People are getting wise to these smear tactics now that they are so regularly churned out. The problem is it is difficult to get people to speak out against them.

Sadly, most people are still too scared to speak up. This shouldn’t surprise us when the extremist factions of the trans movement use threats of rape, violence and torture to bring people into line. They doxx people’s addresses and workplaces, so the heretics can be hunted down and vilified, resulting in the loss of earnings, jobs, reputations and more. There are countless examples of this. And no doubt there will be many more to come.

Faced with this, we cannot simply stand by and shrug. We have to stand up to the smears. The truth is that Rowling has never said anything untoward about trans people. She has been critical of the behaviour of some trans fanatics. She has been vocal in her support for single-sex spaces for women and girls. And yes, she has vociferously defended herself against hourly abuse. As she damn well has a right to do. But she is not the bigot she has been made out to be.

It’s time we all speak up for what is right. It’s time to break the cycle of fear. It’s time we called out this public assault on JK Rowling – and on all the other gender-critical feminists who’ve been similarly maligned. We need to put a stop to this authoritarian movement.

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

James Dreyfus is an actor who has starred in Gimme, Gimme, Gimme, Absolutely Fabulous and The Thin Blue Line.

[cosmicfortuna]

Bright Conversations

Also wrote this for my school newspaper and posting it here. One of my longer works but, oh well.

Crediting @saradika for the border

Balls. The bane of my existence.

Not that I hate the concept of parties or grand events but the fact that I had to attend was kind of bugging down my mood. Despite being a star pupil and the adopted daughter of Vesper, the Evening Archmage, the king decided to reduce me and Piper to “talented magicians” for cheap parlor tricks in order to entertain the nobility. If I had the option to engage with flamboyant rich people for laughs or remain in the Twilight Wing of the palace studying the history of celestial entities and magic itself, I’d go with the latter.

The atmosphere was beautiful, I won't lie; only the best from the Orionis royal family. But the gold on top of gold chandeliers, railings, and table centerpieces reflecting warm light proved too much for my poor overworked brain. Maybe it was a side effect of being cooped up in the Twilight Wing for years on end or my affinity to the night's darkness. Perhaps both. If I had a hand in decorating tonight's event, I'd turn the ballroom into something attuned to a planetarium; stars scattered across the walls and silver cutlery along with the table centerpieces — more along the themes of the constellation that the kingdom is named after.

I gazed out into the crowd, sipping a bit of sparkling cider that was too bubbly for my tastebuds. The music that orchestra played was whimsical enough to rival Cinderella’s in terms of crowd pleasing. They moved so smoothly and elegantly, exchanging dance partners as if it was as simple as a handshake. Dresses weren’t tugged by the floor and were allowed to spread evenly and twirl about if they were silk. Oh, I envy them. Poor little me was stuck on the sides in a glamourized recreation of my uniform. It would’ve been nice if I could actually enjoy myself instead of reading horoscopes for pretentious people only for them to get upset about their future.

Out of nowhere, an older looking blonde nobleman approached me. Just looking at his snobby, stuck up appearance, I would have to play nice in spite of my annoyance.

"Good evening sir,” I greeted, smiling gently.

“Good evening, indeed,” he spoke with a little too much enthusiasm. Perhaps he had too much to drink and decided to chat up the only loner that was on active duty. “Algol, although you've most likely heard of me.”

If he phrased as a question, I would've been thinking of a more savory thing to reply with. The fact that this man insisted on it being an honest statement baffled me. I truly did not know this person.

“I'm sorry,” I said meekly, “I'm afraid not.”

His face grew a bit red; whether it was already from the drinks, embarrassment, or anger, I couldn't tell. Still, he didn't look pleased.

“Algol… Duke of Sigma Persei… ” he said slowly.

“Oh,” the realization hit me like a meteor. “you're from Perseus,”

“Well, of course,” he rolled his eyes, flicking a couple of stray hairs away from his face. “As the so-called ‘Cosmic Fortuna’, I'd figure you'd already know.”

The only response I could muster was rapidly blinking my eyelids; acting like he was supposed to get the hint and try his time with some other poor girl. Unfortunately, he failed and was still in front of me looking ever so haughty. Still, I had to save face.

“Apologies, I don't get many chances to talk to other noblemen outside of the kingdom,” I explained, leaving out the part where it's somewhat part of my own violation.

He scuffed, annoyed. “Well then, if you have no indication of my identity, how can you even properly divine my future?”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” Is what I would’ve said if he didn’t walk away with his head held high and probably in a nicer tone of voice. Feeling defeated, I took another sad sip of my drink.

“You good, Cos?” My attention focused on the blue eyed girl with white crescent moons for pupils — Piper.

“Yeah, fine.”

She squinted at me then blinked a few times, a familiar sign of her not buying for the “I'm fine, let it go” song and dance routine. Again, books and reading.

I sighed, my grip loosening around the stem of the glass. In turn, Piper also sighed, getting the memo. Unlike me, she lived for the busy crowds and chatty with the bourgeois

She leaned in close, whispering amongst the beautiful ensemble. “The garden gate is unlocked. Tell Selene I said hi.”

A smile graced my lips. Piper leaned back, removing the cider from my hands and taking a sip. I swiftly nodded my head, my curled hair bouncing as I moved. She ventured back into the crowd — probably looking for a waiter with a tray of more bubbling drinks.

A little fresh air wouldn't hurt anybody, I thought.

Following suit, I made my way through the crowd of people towards the open double doors that led to the garden. It wasn't too crowded with people, a few stragglers peppered among the greens. Most likely also running away from talking to self-righteous rich people and needed a break from the stuffy atmosphere. Striding past them across the cobblestone path, I approached the wooden door that separated the wilderness from the carefully curated grounds of the palace.

The door itself wasn't very interesting — merely plain dark oak wood with a gold keyhole with a matching door knob engraved with our constellation insignia. I took hold of it and turned. It didn't not budge so it was unlocked. Before I pushed it open, I stopped myself. How did Piper know that the door wasn't locked? The gardener Fiona had always made sure that it was locked, especially at night when the little woodland critters were out and about looking for food. If Piper was inside the whole night, she'd have no idea.

Nevertheless, I disregarded the inquiry and pushed the door open, crossing the threshold. My breath hitched. A rush exploded from within me. A familiar rush that I’ve felt since I was ten. The exhilarating feeling of breaking unwritten rules and diving into one’s vices. I had to stay on task, though. Quickly, I closed the door behind me and took a breath of sweet relief to calm my senses.

Get a hold of yourself. I reprimanded myself. You’re barely set foot into the forest.

Another deep breath and swift exhale was enough to get me to keep moving. I took a few steps before realizing something -- my shoes. In order to blend in with the ladies at the party, Vesper insisted that I wear a pair of nice heels fit for dancing. Piper (like usual) smooth talked her way out of wearing traditional heels in favor of some riding boots. If only I had her level of confidence and deviance. Then again, here I was a mere two inches away from the door and a couple hundred feet towards freedom.

It’s not like I wanted to run away — Piper always had a knack for escaping into the deep wood — I just wanted some space. Some nice center of the woods all by myself and the stars space.

My eyes traveled towards them. They looked better out in the open, shining like no tomorrow. Not obscured by the royal blue curtains decorating with a golden scroll pattern. Not hidden away from the world… Something welled up inside my being; it wasn’t a good something.

Maybe I should just head back. I considered it. Yea, back to the palace…

It’s times like these where I remind myself that no one else was out here to see me — that everyone was inside fast asleep. But that’s not the case this time. Everyone is inside but awake, lively even. And that comes with a new risk of my nightly escapades: the threat of me getting caught. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it since I’ve begun indulging in my vice but that there’s a difference between a few guards randomly sleeping at their night posts and a couple guests lying around the palace grounds. Still, once again, I made it past the door. The door was the only thing preventing me from venturing out into the woods.

That’s it. I’m going. Even if my shoes make noise. I don’t care.

My mind finally felt at ease. Finally, after so many long nights, I was back in the ocean of the stars at last. I felt free. Free from socializing and watching and the overabundance of golden this and golden that reflecting golden hour levels of light with little remorse. It felt great.

And from there, I ran. Not caring if anyone heard.

Well, there was one thing that still bothered me. I allowed the wind to touch me, feeling the cool breeze tickle on my back and delicate wings. Giving them a few flaps, they woke up and readied at attention.

That's better.

Letting go of a stray breath, I hummed the ball's waltz. My arms raised with a mind of their own, my breath calm and controlled; my eyes fixed upon the starry night sky. And soon, I began to dance. Not so rigid like the shelter and stone cold higher class but not like the intoxicated earls, dukes, and whatnots relieving the stress of putting up fronts. A mere mix that laid straight in the middle — a dance of a girl who wants to be alone and is happy with it.

The stars got brighter. Shining and illuminating the heart of the forest that was my oasis. The moon casted a dim light reflecting the sun’s glow; trees highlighted with iridescent silver. Owls silently flying overhead but hooting a welcome message to the lady of the night. It was perfect.

A familiar feeling flowed through my body that I haven't felt for a few weeks: warmth. A warm glow. A warmth took me to the quiet place of my mind. I closed my eyes and continued moving, trusting the light to protect me during my sacred rite of relaxation.

My mind's eye painted the perfect scene. Not too different from the current setting but somehow more extravagant. The grass no longer laid beneath me and in its place was a lovely spring that remained still as my feet moved. Stars swirled in the sky like an oil painting, the light streaking in a controlled manner. I kept dancing, a smile making itself known on my face. Little wisps of periwinkle energy exuded from my fingertips, filling the area with magic. It was perfect. My own microcosm safely hidden away from the rest of the world. My smile grew and I could feel my feet departing with the ground, my wings carrying me higher. Euphoria swept through my entire being; the stars expanding and glowing immensely.

“Woah…” a bewildered voice interrupted.

My eyes snapped open, my beautiful art piece escaping me.

There he was.

Among the trees.

Gawking at my suddenly still body floating a good couple of feet above the ground.

His almost midnight blue hair would’ve hidden him completely amidst the night sky if it hadn’t been for his stunning gold epaulets and the dramatic cape flowing behind him.

I gasped, “Crowned Prince Rigel!”

Immediately, my body dropped onto the grass in a bowing position.

“I-I apologize that you have to see me in this state,” my face burned with embarrassment.

The prince stepped out of the trees and into my circle of twirling dim stars.

“Please, call me Rigel,” his voice was soft but low. “Don’t bow before me, Cosmic, I’m not your king yet.”

I rose up, dusting off my skirt and facing his royal highness.

“Yes, but as crowned prince, you command my respect.”

He shook his head, a smile brimming from his lips. “I thought titles never mattered to you?”

“In the case of my department’s employment, I’d say that they do.” Royal mages without ties to the royal family would just be regular old mages after all. Not that I think they could ever get old in the first place.

He laughed lightly. I sucked in a breath.

“Speaking of my department, you’re not going to…?”

He chuckled, waving a gloved hand. “Of course not. Far be it from me to tell the Evening Archmage that his daughter is skipping out on royal events.”

I released a sigh of relief but a feel of uneasiness still churned in my stomach.

Why hasn’t he said anything about my wings?

In good measure, I hid them again before he could ask.

“So…” Something I didn’t expect from the Prince of Orionis was him searching for a conversation starter. Most royals are very keen on small talk. “What made you leave the ball anyway?” he asked.

I looked down, fiddling with strands of hair that framed my face.

“I needed some fresh air.”

In response, Prince Rigel let out a hum mixed with a short giggle.

“I feel you,” he confessed. “Too many people with too much money and too much energy talking on and on about not having a good time.”

I raised a brow. “Isn’t that the point of these things?”

“Unfortunately not,” Rigel shook his head, his hair flowing with each turn. “The point is to find a spouse for poor unassuming young noblemen. Jokes on them, we’re very aware.”

I laughed but felt empty. Laughter is the best medicine for life’s unfairness — cheaper than breaking down and crying about how you can’t change it. Even the highest of highs cannot escape their predestined fates… Wonder what that says about the ones that choose to pursue the impossible…

“Well, um we should be heading back now…” I cleared my throat and moved to leave the dense wood.

He placed a hand carefully on my shoulder, halting me. “Wait.”

I turned to face him. “Yes, your highness?”

“I never said that I wanted to go back.”

True, he indeed didn’t mention his intentions of heading back.

“Then what would you like to do?”

The prince pulled away slightly, then offered his hand to me.

“With all that small talk, I didn't get a chance to dance with anyone yet…”

I stayed silent but eyed him carefully, flickering back and forth from his hand to the soft look in his eyes. He took my hand in his, raising it to his lips and placing a gentle peck.

“Will you dance with me under the light of the stars and silence of the night?”

[unblinded-by-nostalgia-blog]

SPICE AND WOLF MONTH!!!

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a review of the Anime series only and does not reflect the thoughts of the original novels. They are two different entities and I will be treating them as such.

Part 1 (Episodes 0-6)

The Story

The story is has Holo being offered a young merchant's hand in marriage via contract.

The first part of this series is based on the third book of the series, which is my favourite in the series.

As an adaptation to the third novel, it is a good one. It isn't the most true-to-the-novel series, but I still enjoyed it. It also went into more detail on the economic side of the series than the original book which many people will appreciate, but those who know how economics works might find that this first half holds the viewer's hands too much.

As it's own entity, it's good. But it doesn't move the overall story much and the series made Holo and Lawrence a couple much faster than the original series did, which makes some of the elements of the story feel rushed.

The Characters

The two main characters get a lot of development in this arc. But I wish that the other side characters, especially Mark, the alchemist and the 'prince' had more development and in the alchemist's case, more screen time.

The Animation/Special Effects

The animation isn't as good as the first series. It recycles footage from the previous episodes and it suffers the same problem as Vampire Knight Guilty where the series had far too many flashbacks. It also uses a lot of still imagery and covers the character's mouths when they are talking, and it is really noticeable.

The Dub

The dub it still top notch, I especially love the 'prince's' voice and the alchemist's. They sound like exactly how I imagined they would sound while I was reading the original novel.

Final Thoughts

Overall, this arc was a great as an adaptation of the third book and as it's own entity. It isn't perfect by any means,nor is it a masterpiece, but it is worth watching is you have the time.

The Story 3.5/5 The Characters 3.5/5 The Animation/Special Effects 2/5 The Dub 5/5

Overall 3.5/5

Part 2 (Episodes 7-12)

The Story

Nothing really happens in the second half that is entertaining, except for the last episode where they made Holo and Lawence an official couple and Lawence lost all of his money.

Many people want a season 3 of this series, but after an ending like that (which is far different from the original book), what is there left to tell.

It would of been better if they made book 4 instead of skipping it and going straight to book 5.

The Characters

We learn a lot about Eve (she's called Abe in this series for some reason), but the rest of the cast is given very little development, heck, even Holo and Lawence don't get much development in this!

The Animation/Special Effects

The animation is slightly better, but that's not saying much because it still uses those cheap animation tricks throughout the series.

The Dub

The dub is still very well done. The only complaint I do have is that Eve sounds too much like a boy in this. She would of been better off with a lower pitch voice, but not a deep as this!

Final Thoughts

Overall, this half is definitely the weakest in the entire series. Apart from the final episode, they are skippable unless your REALLY interested in the story.

The Story 2/5 The Characters 2/5 The Animation/Special Effects 2.5/5 The Dub 4/5

Overall 2.5/5

Overall Thoughts

Overall, this series (and the first season) is overrated, but it is definitely worth a watch. While I do recommend you buy the first season, I recommend you only rent the second season.

Part 1 3.5/5 Part 2 2.5/5

Overall 3/5

[anubianpagan]

Ya know...Sometimes I peer through kemetic spaces and run through articles that are just so tone deaf and filled with unawareness it's amazing. We've all seen a few of those articles. While it's their personal UPG, they make available to the public...they seem unaware of how their actions are deplorable.

I have seen people claiming the gods are "my equal" and treat them like a shopkeeper in retail, them being the karen, demanding more exceptions for their expired coupons and demanding they deserve lower prices for arbitrary reasons.

Some claim they can punish the gods for not performing as commanded and relinquishing ever increasing demands for boons and affections while giving...cheap and gross offerings that were at best, beyond unsuitable for human consumption let alone higher beings of power. Then act in rage and tantrum like entitled toddlers because their demands were not met when they do not come in reverence but in expectation.

People making demands of the gods...describing the gods in unflattering and creepy ways committing acts upon vulnerable individuals or kidnappers. Or describe them as weakened, desperate for attention and energy, starving to death, and the humans think they can use this as a carrot on a stick, making the power dynamic entirely theirs to manipulate and control.

They then are baffled by the gods reactions to...give them nothing they stomp their feet and demand. Some claim divine abuse, a subject I find absurd. If your relationship with a deity isn't a mutually respectful and beneficial one, why are you there?

They then always have miserable and unfulfilling lives where even the eating of food is so unfulfilling it causes pain. They wonder why, they blame the gods and never look inward to how their religious life with the gods teds to be filled with more gimme gimme gimme gimme, and less give. I find it an impressive display of narcissism to speak so disparagingly of the gods, treat them more like a summoned demon to be bartered with and tricked rather then a revered entity to be loved, demand more from them, and when they give you nothing back, they are utterly baffled, hurt and claim they are betrayed. But the betrayal was there's all along.

Some of them are downright contrarian in every aspect of religion or insist we can have religion without gods involvement. Ya know...the while center of the religion. For a more atheist approach.

Mind you, there is a difference between a transactional relationship of mutual benefit and spiteful entitled demands which don't get met. These people truly wonder why they have a bad time unawares of what caused it. Them. It really does come down to human error from where I'm seeing. But they see themselves as so flawless, it could never be them that caused the problem, it must be the gods.

or ya know, they have screwed up perceptions and misinterpret but they could never be wrong right?

Personally, my experiences with the gods have never been filled with this much resentment for my religion, disappointment, nor wrathful ignorance. But loving reverence and I get what I put in.

The only differences I see really, is I don't approach them with a holier-then-thou attitude and try to shame them in social spaces or speak ill of them because I prayed and wasn't granted that winning lottery ticket I demanded. Approach with love and respect and receive it in return. Huh. Who'da thunk!

Kemeticism doesn't really have an official concept of hubris but by gods some of the people here...really exemplify the ever increasing need for us to have one. I continue to hope one day they will wake up and realize their error and seek to fix it, but they continue to show me they cannot learn a new trick.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #164

I DID THE THING!!! I MADE IT PAST THE SEALED DOOR!!!!

…Only to later be turned into a smoothie via gravity instead of via whirring blades. Go figure!! Hahahahahaha!! 🤣🤣🤣

I had thought that I'd be able to find a way to the rest of the game world without dying, but apparently, in the beginning, dying is the only way out of the Chapel of Anticipation anyway. And apparently, falling off that specific cliff edge is the only way to keep the experience points I gained as a result of stopping myself from getting shredded to bits by the Grafted Scion; ordinarily, one loses all of one's accrued experience points upon death, and in order to get them back, you have to go back to where you died in order to fetch them, and in so doing, face the obstacle that you fell to once more.

Initially, I was shocked and disappointed when the cliff wall crumbled; it felt kind of like a cheap trick. But I suppose I should have expected some other contrived method of death; otherwise, you don't get to the section of tutorial that shows you, "oh hey, dying is really not a big deal; you'll grow back lickety-split!" And about that Grafted Scion? Yeah, don't worry - that one will have been revived as soon as I died. Presumably, they went right back to chilling out on their random mountaintop somewheres, waiting for additional unsuspecting passers-by to try to turn into a smoothie. Or a salad. Or whatever else they want, I suppose. May the next travelers have sufficient boundary skills to protect themselves. May the Grafted Scion find something better to do with their time than attack lost travelers.

And did you see!!! Like I said, the entity YELLED at me!!! They were all like, "AAAAAAAA!!" It was very rude!! So I yelled back at them!! At least, I did that as many times as my available Magic Points (the blue bar in the top left corner) would allow. I'm not gonna just sit there and take that shit; I've got boundary skills!!

…Be a lot nicer to build a campfire in the middle of that circular stone platform and have some s'mores with this entity, though. Bet we could have found some nice sticks on the ground near them trees and use them fancy swords to sharpen them to stick marshmallows on. I mean… this entity sits there, presumably waiting for other lost, wandering souls to come around, but how often does that happen? When's the last time that one had anyone to talk to, to share their story with? When's the last time they had a hug? Or some sweet treat to eat? I feel sad that the only option was to fight.

I want to think that in the real world, there are more options than just fighting. There are so many ways to open a dialogue, but lots of people, for a variety of reasons, don't have the skills to do that well, or think that there's no other choice but to fight.

I think of the people in my life who grew up in ways that made them think that their social standing and lovability as people were contingent upon their ability to control me or harm me. I understand the mechanics that produce things like this. But even so, it's not like that Grafted Scion; I do not need to render someone's body permanently uninhabitable to get them to stop hurting me; I only need to talk to them, or create distance between myself and them, or, goodness forbid, physically disable them from harming me. And that last one there is only a last resort when all other methods have either failed or are inaccessible by virtue of the circumstances.

Could the world be a little better if fewer people went immediately to the last resort? I like to think so.

…Suppose I'm thinking about it today because an internet friend sent along something about a show called The Good Place; if your position at the Edge of Creation allows you to see that story, I would very much recommend that you check it out. I've seen the whole thing, and it manages to both be lighthearted and profound at the same time. It's one of my favorite stories.

It's essentially an examination of the cultural phenomenon in my world by which people have the mistakes they make as a result of their upbringing, brain hardware, and life circumstances held against them personally, as though it means something fundamental about their character instead of it being an indicator of where a person needs additional skills, experience, or support.

And as an abuse survivor myself, who ended up with a lot of REALLY WEIRD SHIT ground into my skull by the very racist, sexist, and generally toxic people I grew up with, I thought about the balance between "acknowledging that my bullshit is not inherent to my nature because it was forced upon me by people who were more powerful than me and my only choice at the time was to conform", and "holding myself accountable for unlearning all the shit that I was force-fed and learning better stuff in its place". And that balance is very precarious, because in order to learn how to hold myself accountable in any way, I needed the support of healthy people in my life.

And that, in and of itself, produces an interesting (read: difficult to the point of being absurd) challenge, because in my (albeit limited) experience, going through abuse in the absence of support will produce a person with survival skills and emotional coping strategies that are caustic to healthy people in healthy environments, and no person should have to expose themself to someone who is caustic. So on the one hand, I did need the support from healthy people in order to learn how to become a healthy person, but goodness me, until I learned different skills and had ample opportunity to make mistakes during the acquisition of those skills, I was most certainly caustic as fuck to the people around me, and I'm VERY cognizant of the fact that I am entitled to NO ONE'S time and patience; it's nothing short of miraculous that M stuck with me for as long as he did. But at the same time, without that, I wouldn't be able to write stuff like this. And without you, I wouldn't have made it as far as meeting M in the first place.

So I found M, who was patient enough to gently hold me accountable for my various kinds of bullshit (the bullshit served me well in the house I grew up in, but not so well in a healthy house). And so that presents the next logistical hurdle - accountability. See, being an abuse survivor basically means that at the end of it, it becomes extremely difficult, if not outright impossible - at least at first - to separate "accountability" from "imminently being on the receiving end of physical/verbal/social violence". So, "hey, I don't like this thing you did" automatically gets all twisted up into, "hey, I don't like YOU, and I'm about to make it your problem by introducing my FIST to your FACE at HIGH VELOCITY! BRACE YOURSELF!!!" - even when that second one is not present. It took me a number of years to learn that I didn't need to get defensive anytime anyone had any small problem with anything that I was doing, because for a long time, I had a really difficult time imagining that someone could dislike something I said or did without them subsequently hating me enough to either hurt me, abandon me, or try to destroy my relationships with other people shortly thereafter.

And that brings me to the next hurdle, which is this: the issue that I had with accountability wasn't something innate to me. No, it was ground into me by living for a very long time with people who wished that I never existed, so anytime I made any tiny mistake, it was used an excuse to use me as a verbal or physical punching bag. It is absolutely NOT my fucking fault that I was brutally trained as a child to fear accountability by people who were far more powerful than me. But it is STILL my responsibility as an adult to decondition myself, even if I cannot find people willing to support me through that process due to me not yet knowing how to speak and behave in ways that are non-toxic, because NO ONE is obligated to put up with me while I'm existing in ways that are harmful to others. And hot diggity damn, that's one hell of a trip, and one hell of a jagged, bitter pill to swallow along the way.

See, because dealing with the aftermath of abuse is like house windows. If someone else comes along to break the windows of your house, you can certainly try to track down who did it and demand that they fix your windows, but they'll usually just tell you to go fuck yourself and then break something else on their way out for your "audacity"; it's not a productive use of time. You can tell your community what happened (if you have one) and ask for support with paying for new windows, but everyone's got their own problems, so no one HAS to give you anything out of their own pocket, and they shouldn't be made to feel guilty if they cannot. You can still ask the people around you to come visit your house and just be with you while you repair your windows, but your windows are broken, so your house is gonna be cold and have bugs in it, and no one should be made to feel guilty if they don't wanna visit due to that. So at the end of the day, it's YOUR responsibility to fix your own windows, even if someone else broke them, and even if you don't have the time, resources, or skills to fix them. And until those windows get fixed, living in your house is going to be a freaking nightmare.

The WHOLE THING that is being an abuse survivor in the absence of other sources of support is MONUMENTALLY UNFAIR. Not only are you starting off with a brain that didn't get to develop properly because stress hormones interfere with even one's most basic neurodevelopment (we're talking more than just empathy and emotional regulation - we're talking systemic things like blood pressure, heart rate, insulin and blood composition - all that shit is regulated by the brain), but also, it's a very chicken-and-egg situation because you come out of it an injured and unhealthy person, and you can't become healthy until you meet and practice new skills with healthy people, but it's hard to maintain relationships with healthy people to practice the new skills with until you become a healthy person. So like…

…It's a mess. Being a trauma survivor is a mess. The odds stacked against us are absolutely freaking insane. And still, if we want to be responsible humans to the rest of our community, we have to find a way through so that we can become healthy people. It's hell to overcome these hurdles, and that is why healed trauma survivors are some of the strongest, kindest, and most courageous and compassionate people there are.

…And that's also why I assert that if the developers of your story are going to claim you're the strongest living thing ever, you HAVE to heal and fully own the kindness and compassion that is innate to you and to all human beings. Because if you don't, then I know a number of people who are stronger than you in all the ways that count. Some of them are even reading this letter as we speak.

The fortunate thing about healing is that every time you fall short, you have as many opportunities to try again as you want. Maybe not with the same people, because sometimes you're gonna do something stupid that disables certain folks from ever wanting to spend time with you again (I've done this, multiple times, and for idiotic reasons on my part; it sucks, but what can one do other than learn and do better next time?). But there will be more people to try again with; there are LOTS of them out there. It's a lot like Elden Ring (or any other masochistically difficult game) in some ways; the foe in front of you only seems impossible until you learn how it moves and behaves. Everyone fails over and over again at new skills until they're learned; that's a normal part of the human condition, no matter who tries to force-feed you the myth of "innate talent". Anything worth doing is worth doing badly until you can GIT GUD:

…There is no secret technique or way of being that will ever make healing easy. Having support and healthy coping techniques in your toolbox is certainly helpful, but what really matters is your willingness to use them, and your willingness to learn, grow, and change throughout the process. You need to develop your self-awareness so that you can be mindful of your internal and external states. You need to develop your boundary skill so you can say no to the things that harm you. And you need to learn to be compassionate with yourself so that you can have patience with yourself as you persevere. Of course, it's "really, really, really hard". We're gonna struggle, fall down, fail, and lose people along the way. In order to recover, we have to focus, practice, and learn. But learning is the natural result of trying, so really, all you have to do is try.

...Sephiroth, I'm asking you to keep trying, okay? You've got a "jolly cooperator" right here who will take your hand; all you have to do is ask. Or, in this case, all you have to do is reach back, because my hand is already outstretched towards you.

I love you a lot, so keep yourself safe out there, okay? I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[makemywebsite1]

SEO for Neural Search & AI Assistants: The Next Evolution of Digital Discovery

Welcome to the new era of search, where machines don’t just read keywords, they comprehend intent. This is the rise of neural search and AI assistants, where search engines behave more like humans than ever before.

Traditional SEO techniques now face a formidable challenge. Keywords alone are no longer enough. Algorithms now crave context, tone, emotion, and semantics. If you’re still stuffing phrases and counting backlinks, you’re walking backwards on a bullet train.

In this new landscape, AI assistants like ChatGPT, Google Assistant, Alexa, and Siri now dictate user decisions. Neural networks that power search engines think in layers, just like our brains. The future is not about ranking pages. It’s about becoming the voice that answers questions before they’re asked.

So, let’s see what SEO expert in Melbourne are up to. First things first—

What Is Neural Search?

Neural search uses artificial neural networks to simulate how humans process language. These systems can infer meaning from phrases, decode intent, and evaluate context with uncanny precision. Forget matching “cheap red shoes” to exact-match web pages. Neural search understands that “affordable crimson sneakers” means the same thing.

Algorithms like Google’s BERT, MUM, and OpenAI’s GPT have revolutionised search. They don’t just retrieve—they interpret. These models can translate feelings into search results. They can read between the lines and even predict follow-up questions.

In this model, search is no longer a hunt for words. It’s a quest for relevance.

Enter the AI Assistant: Search’s New Gatekeeper

AI assistants have become the go-to interface for information seekers. People no longer open browsers. They simply speak in full sentences and get clear, conversational responses from AI assistants.

This changes everything. SEO must now adapt to voice-first, conversational ecosystems. There’s no top ten list. There’s only one winner—the answer that gets spoken aloud. To dominate AI-driven search, your content must become that answer.

The Vanishing Keyword Era

Old-school SEO was keyword-centric. You picked phrases and crammed them in titles and alt tags. But neural search sees through that charade.

Today, Google knows that “how do I fix a leaky faucet” is connected to “plumbing DIY tips” and “stop kitchen sink dripping.” Synonyms, sentence structure, and even emotional tone all contribute to meaning.

Keywords still matter—but only as guides. They are no longer the destination. Think themes, entities, and natural language.

Writing for Machines That Think Like Humans

To win in neural search, write like you’re explaining something to a curious, intelligent friend. Ditch robotic structures and embrace fluidity. Use complete thoughts, infuse emotion, and be specific.

AI doesn’t just scan words. It scans behaviour now. It looks for intentional alignment. It means your content must match not only what users say, but also why they say it.

Here’s a practical trick: start with the end user’s problem, then build backwards. Use semantically rich language. Weave in context. Don’t just provide an answer—deliver insight.

Structured Data: Give Machines a Map

Neural search thrives on clarity. You can boost clarity by using structured data. Schema markup turns chaotic content into understandable blocks. It helps machines categorise, cross-reference, and elevate your answers.

Want to be the spoken response from Alexa? Mark up your FAQs. Want your product details to show in Google Shopping? Use product schema. The more signals you provide, the more searchable your content becomes.

Conversational Optimisation: The Art of Flow

AI assistants are conversational, which means your content must be, too. What does it mean, you wonder? Optimise for the rhythm of speech. Create content that sounds good when read aloud. Use shorter sentences and transitional phrases. Repeat keywords naturally, like a human would.

Questions are crucial. Include common queries as subheadings. Answer directly. Follow up with elaboration. This simulates the way AI assistants respond in layers.

Here’s a sample flow:

What is neural search?

How does it change SEO?

What can I do to optimise for it?

Each question leads to the next. Each answer builds trust.

E-E-A-T is More Important Than Ever

Expertise. Experience. Authoritativeness. Trustworthiness.

Google’s E-E-A-T framework gains momentum in the age of AI. Neural networks reward clarity, credibility, and consistency.

Cite reliable sources.

Add author bios.

Show experience.

Share case studies.

Use facts, not fluff.

If you want to be the chosen voice in this new world, you must build digital authority like never before.

Mobile and Multimodal Optimisation

Voice search is mostly mobile, so your site must be lightning-fast, responsive, and seamless. AI also favours multimodal content—images, audio, video, and text that blend together.

Use video transcripts.

Include captions.

Add alt text to images.

Optimise podcasts with show notes.

Your content should be versatile enough to live anywhere—on screens, in smart speakers, or through augmented lenses.

The Importance of Topical Authority

One-off blog posts won’t cut it. You need content ecosystems. That means building entire clusters around core themes. Don’t write a single post about “neural search.” Create a pillar and link it to articles on semantic indexing, structured data, and voice optimisation.

Topical authority tells neural engines that you know your domain. It tells assistants that your site isn’t just a content mill—it’s a knowledge source.

The Rise of Zero-Click Results

Neural search favours instant answers. People ask, and machines respond. No clicks needed. That’s terrifying for traffic, but golden for branding. If you can own the answer, you own the moment. Here’s how you do it:

Use bullet points.

Create one-sentence summaries.

Insert key information at the top.

Treat every paragraph like a tweetable insight.

Overall, your content must be succinct, structured, and satisfying.

Conclusion

The world of search has mutated, and the rules have shifted. No longer do we optimise just for Google. We optimise for algorithms that mimic human cognition. We write not only for screens, but for smart speakers, glasses, and AI bots.

If you’re still treating SEO as a formula, you’re behind. Get in touch with Make My Website, Melbourne’s best SEO expert, to get your digital game transformed.

[theharpermovieblog]

#HARPERSMOVIECOLLECTION

2024 MOVIE LIST

www.tumblr.com/theharpermovieblog

JOHN CARPENTER WEEK

I re-watched John Carpenter's Prince Of Darkness (1987)

I've written a review of this before, but it's lost to time. So, here we go again.

A priest asks a Quantum Physics professor to help him study and understand a tank full of a liquid, which he believes is pure evil.

I'm mildly obsessed with this particular John Carpenter movie. I'm a big John Carpenter fan, and I fully admit that he has made far better films. So, what is it that draws me back to this one, over and over again?

It'd be easy to reduce Prince Of Darkness to just another dumb horror movie from the 1980's. It's a touch muddy, it's got some bad acting, some cheap special effects...it is a flawed film.

However, I'd argue that what Carpenter gets across with this movie, is something many filmmakers have tried, but few have pulled off.

This film is the second in John Carpenter's "Apocalypse Trilogy", which began with "The Thing" and ended with "In The Mouth Of Madness." These films are Carpenter's exploration of Cosmic Horror and Lovecraftian ideas. (Something you could argue he's been exploring since the first Halloween, by creating a literal undying Boogeyman without explanation,...but, that's an argument for another day.) This narratively unconnected trilogy started with it's strongest film, and many would consider "Prince Of Darkness" to be the weakest entry. I disagree. While it's not an incredibly strong film on the surface, it has plenty to offer for a fan of the cosmic horror genre.

The film loosely uses a mix of Catholicism and Quantum Physics to try and give stability to the idea of an evil entity which is beyond comprehension. With this idea in place, the film then goes on to make it's main statement, which is that the unknown is unknowable and everlasting. No matter how hard humanity tries to get ahead of it, something bigger than us has always been there and will always be there. In this way, what we call evil, is an inevitability. We are helpless to stop said evil and incapable of fully understanding the nature of it. Such is the essence of Cosmic Horror.

"Prince Of Darkness" ends with the knowledge that, whatever we have watched our characters accomplish, it has had little to no effect on what is coming. Their fight was completely for nothing...or was it? Without a concrete ending, we are left to wonder. Carpenter pulled this same trick in "The Thing". It just makes sense to leave his audience as the victims to the unknown, especially when the unknown is the film's main antagonist.

So, why am I obsessed with this, admittedly, less than perfect Carpenter film?

The answer lies somewhere in my desire for good cosmic horror in film. It's not enough for a filmmaker to throw a bunch of tentacles and spooky space images onto a screen and call it cosmic horror. The filmmaker needs to understand that the very idea of this genre is to make the audience see themselves as helpless, empty and at the mercy of the unexplainable chaos we find ourselves facing. Something is out there, it is coming, and you are completely incapable of knowing what it is. You are doomed, as are we all. And, when all around you are dying and you face this incomprehensible death yourself, you will know that you never really mattered, and all is madness.

Carpenter doesn't completely pull this off here, but he is trying and succeeding on certain levels. And, he does so with a film that is most certainly all his own.

[zimpz]

Meager appetite

Kanaya ♦️ Karkat

Kanaya retrieved two plates and two forks from your cupboards. She had grown so accustomed to your hive that she knew precisely where to find the dishes and the cutlery. You sat at the table while she dressed it. Her finally sitting down with you was your signal to begin cutting away at the grubcake she had brought. In no time you're devouring this delicious cake, that is, until you notice her plate is still empty.

"Wait, you're not having any? Come on, cut a piece for yourself."

"No, I am delighted to offer this sweet grubcake in its entirety to you. It was a joy to make knowing you would be on the receiving end."

"What? Is it a gift or something? I appreciate the gesture, and I do enjoy your cooking, but it's really not necessary to refrain from enjoying your hard work. I mean it, I can't finish this all by myself."

"You do not need to consume it all in one sitting. Do not be ridiculous, you would get yourself ill. Preserve some for another occasion."

You set your fork down, adopting a grave expression. "There's something you're not telling me. Why haven't you taken a single bite out of this grubcake? Is there something wrong with it?" The mere thought of having possibly consumed poisoned food brings your stomach to your throat.

"No, no! Karkat. Do you think I am deranged? Why would I do such a dreadful thing to you, of all people? I could never imagine. I care so deeply about you, you know that." You frowned. Although you wanted to believe she was sincere, there was something oddly suspicious about the way she was dodging your question. She sighed, painfully aware that you would not budge until this was clarified. "I really do adore baking. Alas, I do not get as many opportunities to put my skills to good use, ever since… you know…"

You raise your shoulders and quickly look around. "Yes, of course, I fucking know already! I'm an all-seeing entity looking over the universe and I know what you were doing with that grubcake. Do you see how stupid this shit sounds? No, I don't know. Until you loosen up and tell me what the hell is going on, I am going to continue assuming the worst. That some wicked hag decided to trick me into ingesting what seems like an inconspicuous grubcake but it actually contains a special ingredient that will give me some incurable disease. Is that what you want?"

Kanaya's eyes linger over you throughout your ranting, her stare feels unusually indifferent. When she manages to get a word in, she explains sheepishly: "I cannot eat solid food anymore-"

"Some asshole knocked all of your teeth? A piano dropped from the 6th floor and landed on your pan? Hilarious. I'm bent in half in laughter. As far as I can see you still have all your teeth since you're not drooling all over the table and you can still enunciate just fine. Now use your gogdamn ignorance gash and-" You pause. Amidst your irritation, you realize one small detail had slipped past your mind… "Oh."

It all made sense, now. Kanaya seems relieved to see you regain your composure.

"You mean rainbow drinkers can't eat food?"

"We are not quite incapable, but it is not preferable. Various aches and ailments customarily ensue."

"Oh." You look at the unfinished piece of grubcake on your plate. You really were quick to accuse her for something that was not her fault at all, weren't you? In what world would Kanaya be able to do this to her moirail, let alone to anyone. If she had a grievance with anyone, she would not have resorted to such cheap tricks. Telling them off, of course; beating some sense into them when necessary, sure. Poisoning? It would've been an uncharacteristically sneaky and dramatic way to settle her differences with you.

One gets startled easily when you have been stabbed in the back so many times before, you guess. But now that she had revealed it wasn't her intention at all, you just feel like a fool. A relieved fool, at least.

"It saddens me that I barely even get to taste my creations anymore. I used to enjoy sharing meals but it has become an exigent chore to mask my minuscule appetite. I really cannot consume much or else I will feel ill. But what use is putting so much care in cooking a thousand meals if they are all going to waste? Instead, I would rather offer them, and as an additional benefit they might bring a smile to someone's face…"

A sensation of warmth spreads through your chest. So it really was a gift. You feel even more like a dick: here she was simply being nice to you and this is the thanks you give her. "My bad, Kanaya. I didn't think-"

She interrupts you: "Do not worry. You were not thinking this through. I am not resentful."

You pick your fork back up and poke once at the grubcake on your plate. You observe it for a second before cutting off a bite-sized piece and lifting your gaze back up to Kanaya.

"Are you sure you're not hungry?" You joke to lighten the mood.

"You must mean thirsty."

"Yeah, sure." You answer with your mouth full.

"Hmm." She scratches the back of her head. "I would rather not frighten you with the truth."

Your arm suddenly freezes in place, interrupting its trajectory towards your mouth. Your eyes are locked on her, carefully watching her every movement. "No… I'm not scared. Do you think I'm a wiggler?"

"I must admit I am not fully sated right now. This is no reason to be alarmed, after all, you know I am more than capable of self-control. When dawn comes, I will able to find the nutrients I require."

"Doesn't Rose help to keep you fed?"

"I would rather not impose this taxing responsibility on her. I am not entitled to her energy to sustain myself. Besides, human blood is regrettably not as filling. It's critical that our exchange remains on a voluntary basis, therefore I hunt the other times. Like tonight, I will eventually need to go hunting."

"What about our movie day? I've made a whole list of human romance movies we needed to see together. You can't leave me hanging."

"Well, we will not watch them all day, will we? I can depart after."

"Whaaaat!! Then we won't have time to see everything, it's impossible. I thought when you said you would be spending the day with me, you meant you would stay here the whole day so we could catch up…"

"My apologies, Karkat. I should have had my feed yesterday, then I would have been more than pleased to spend the entire day with you… Alas, I must leave before dusk. Unless…"

"Unless what?" You arch an eyebrow in confusion. Her eyes pierce through you intently, as if you were made out of glass. Suddenly, your stomach turns into a knot as you realize her implication and you jump from your chair. "No, NO, NO. Don't look at me like that. Absolutely the fuck not. You can find another feeding machine elsewhere."

"Machine? Karkat, I already informed you that an agreement of this kind would never become contractual. Further, it would just be this once."

Your skin turns pallid, your heart racing, your breaths shortening. The mere thought of your blood being drawn is enough to make you feel faint. "Why???? Why would you ask me of all people? You know I hate that shit, I can't stand it. Ask the first troll you cross on the street for all I care."

"It's truly not as terrible as you envision it. You need not look at it."

"N-O, no."

"Very well then, it was merely a suggestion: I can also leave earlier if you prefer."

"You know what, we can even postpone this to another day when you're well-fed! Then we'll have plenty of time to get through my marathon."

"So you will send me home expeditiously after I travelled all the way here?"

On second thought, you really did not want to throw her out like an old dishrag. Not only would it be impolite considering the travel time, you'd lose on precious time spent with your moirail. There were plenty of movies you were so excited to show her. A compromise needs to be made: "Fine. We'll just begin tackling the list and you can leave when you need to. We can continue another time, I guess."

Kanaya seemed satisfied by this answer, as she was also eager to spend most of her day with you. After you cleaned your plate and placed the rest of the grubcake in your fridge, the two of you moved to the living area. After you inserted the first CD into the reader, you both crashed on your couch.

Throughout the next few hours, you got to fill her in on some of humans' classic romance movies. Her experience was even better than that the one she could've had at any movie theater, since she had you to guide her through the lore and to point out any detail that might've escaped her. But soon enough came the fated time of her departure: "As much as it pains me to say, this was my last one, Karkat. I really must leave now." She straightens her back, ready to get up from the couch.

"What? But you're going to miss the scene where Jack and Ennis reunite!!"

She sighs. "Very well, my other offer still stands, whichever you prefer."

"It doesn't seem enticing to me in the slghtest."

"I would be very gentle, Karkat. We can go as slowly as you need. You can trust me on that." She assures you, looking at you intently.

You take a deep breath. You really feel like she would miss out on one of the best moments in movie history if she left now. As much as you did not want to get your blood drawn, if it was the only thing that could get her to stay and complete the marathon with you… Besides, if there's anyone you can trust to reassure you throughout this terrifying process, it's her. She's always looking out for your safety and she's never let you down so far.

After a moment of reflexion, you concede: "Fine, just make it quick. So how do we do this?"

"Oh I am so glad." Exalted by what she just heard, she bounces off from the couch. "Wait for me just one minute, I will return shortly."

She doesn't leave much time for you to dwell on your worries, soon enough she comes back with a damp rag and adhesive bandages. She places them on the coffee table and sits down next to you.

"What if… mutated blood is dangerous to drink?" You ask. "What if it's poisonous for rainbow drinkers or something…?"

"I cannot be certain until I try it, wouldn't you agree? There is a first time for everything. And I am willing to attempt the experiment. What if I am missing out on something grand?"

"I don't want to make you sick."

"You will not make me ill, Karkat. I will interrupt my drinking if I notice something goes awry."

You're not so convinced by her reasoning, frankly you'd rather your moirail does not put her life in jeopardy for any type of experiment. But if she really does want to go through with this, who are you to stop her?

"Alright. What next?" You ask impatiently.

There was an awkward silence before she leaned towards you and dropped off the faintest kiss on your temple. You suddenly feel warmth rushing to your cheeks and ears, and you bring your hand up as an attempt to cover your embarrassment. She smirked smugly as she noticed your flushed expression.

"You seem to have excellent circulation." You're too disconcerted to come up with a smartass response to her jab. She uses this opportunity to gently kiss your neck, which sends shivers down your spine. "I have been longing to try candy red." If she wanted red, she got it: your face is as red as a tomato.

"Ah, do you really need to go for my neck?"

"You wished for me to be quick. This is the fastest way. I could always take your arm but it would require twice as much time. Besides, you will see less blood if the puncture wounds are on your neck."

You grimace at the thought of an extension for your predicament. Neck will have to do. "Okay, fine."

Her teeth graze against your skin and it makes you shiver. You brace yourself, your breaths shallow and your eyes shut.

"Shh, relax… Do not worry, you will be fine. I will let you know when I start." She rubs your back. You're trying really hard to calm down, but your hands are shaking and you already feel nauseous. Moments pass before she leans back: "On second thought, you should lie down on the couch."

"What…?" You reply in confusion, opening your eyes. Truth be told, you were so lost in thought that you completely missed what she just said.

She stands up. "Lie down on the couch. It will be more comfortable for you. And in case you feel ill, you will already have adopted the correct position to recover."

You lie down, putting yourself at ease. You take a deep, shaky breath. You don't notice Kanaya rolling up the bottom of her skirt up to her knees until she has already climbed on top of you and is straddling you. Your embarrassment reaches new heights.

"Kanaya…? Are you sure about this? This feels oddly… intimate."

"I must find a comfortable position as well, to make it easier on both of us. I am seeking time efficiency. Are you ready?"

"Hm-hmm." You confirm.

She holds one of your hands, hers feel cold albeit comfortingly soft.

"Are you certain? I would appreciate a complete answer."

"Yes, I'm ready."

"Do not hesitate to let me know if you need me to stop." She hovers above you, closing once again the gap between her mouth and your neck. "I must warn you, it will pinch a little."

You move your head slightly to the side to give her more space. She presses her lips against your skin once more. Your heart is pounding like it's going to bounce out of your chest.

"3, 2, 1…"

A sharp sting sinks deep into your neck. You shut your eyes and grind your teeth, trying to drown it out. With each heartbeat you feel your blood coursing throughout your body. It's one of the strangest sensations you've ever felt.

Kanaya lets go of your hand, instead cupping your face so it stays in the right place. Her thumb gently rubs against your cheek, as if to comfort you.

The pain begins to subside after a minute. You start to ease into it, as your body comes to understand you are in good hands. Your jaw loosens and your breaths grow deeper. You dread opening your eyes however, fearing they would get a glimpse of a bloodbath. You think you'll keep them closed until she is done.

Soon enough you feel the intrusion in your neck fade out, as she pulls out her fangs with a relieved sigh. Suddenly, you feel something moist being pressed and gently rubbed against your neck: she is cleaning your wounds with the rag she had so thoughtfully brought earlier.

"It is over now. Are you alright, dear?"

"Yeah…" You take it as a signal to open your eyes.

"It was not so terrible, would you not agree?" She now presses the rag onto her chin, wiping away the candy red blood that had dribbled on it. You can't look away.

"I guess it could have been worse."

She takes two adhesive bandages and carefully sticks them over your puncture wounds. "Know that your help is greatly appreciated: I feel much more energetic now." Good for her. You, on the other hand, are quite frazzled. At least you'll have plenty of time to recuperate on the couch while you two resume watching your movie marathon.

She leans down to press a kiss on your forehead, causing your cheeks to become lightly flushed. She gets a good look at your face as she sits back up. "I see I have not stripped you from all your colour." She chuckles.

You frown, partly annoyed partly amused by her antics. "You're having way too much fun with this."

"That I am. You look so adorable when you are flustered." She hops off the couch. "Wait a moment, let me take care of this."

She leaves with the rag in order to rinse it out in the sink. You manage to sit up slowly on the couch in the meantime. You feel slightly nauseous. You hold a hand to your forehead as you attempt to recollect everything that just happened. It all went by so fast. Well, you did ask for it to be fast, didn't you?

You notice Kanaya coming back from the ablution block and she sits beside you, placing a cold hand on your back. "It was delectable, Karkat, perhaps even better than my current favourites, teal and indigo. I was lucky to have your permission to try out this rare commodity."

"Rare is the right word. Don't let it become a habit because you might not get permission so often."

"Of course, and I respect that. Although I must point out… You do seem to imply this might not be the last time, is that correct?"

"Ehh…" You scratch your head. As nerve-wracking as it was to get your blood drawn, you did enjoy Kanaya's gentle, close-up attentions. She made you feel safe. But you're definitely not ready to admit this out loud just yet. "I mean, I'm not saying no, so take it however you will. Just tell me beforehand, okay? I don't want to plan anything important right after."

She's grinning from ear to ear. "I will ensure that I let you know. Remember that it is always your choice in the end. You can back out if ever you are not willing anymore. I can handle myself just fine."

She gets up, motioning to the CD reader. "At any rate, where were we? Which movie should I insert next? Would you like something to drink? I can fill up your glass if you would like. Are you cold? Do you need a blanket?"

You look at her adoringly, a coy smile on your lips. Oh, how lucky you are to have such an attentive moirail.