#the things we lost to copyright hell... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jadedxrealityw · 2 months ago

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"A Second Chance: TEASER"

ᵖᵃⁱʳ: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Female Reader

ᵃ/ⁿ: spoilers for Thunderbolts* read at your own risk. This fic is dedicated to my Shawty bae who hasn't even seen the movie yet <3 See you soon

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14 MONTHS LATER

"-But we are the Avengers, the government said so" Yelena walks alongside John, Ava, and Bucky her expressions annoyed and confused as they enter the meeting room of the tower "How does Sam Wilson not understand that?"

"Well he does have the shield " Bucky interjects

John glances off toward Bucky "Well I got a shield to"

Bucky shakes his head "It's not a shield"

"Jesus Christ" Yelena mumbles, rolling her eyes. They had only been the 'Avengers' for a year and she had lost count of the 'Little bitch fits' Bucky and John would get into by breathing the same air too long.'

"Yeah it is a shield"

"It's a Shitty shield"

The four of them walk down the few steps, making their way to the room's sofas. "It's a great shield, Bucky"

"Get a room, please" Ava scoffs.

Yelena raises her hand "Okay" she cuts them off "If he puts together a team and then the team is called the Avengers-" Yelena turns just as Bucky takes a seat "Then who are the real Avengers?"

"Well, that's the question the internet has been asking and judging by the very nasty memes that I've read...They don't think that It's us" John sits himself on the sofa, kicking his feet up.

Yelena removes one of her hands from her hips, gesturing towards Bucky as she begins to pace a few feet back and forth "Weren't you going to talk to him?" and by him, she meant Sam. Bucky's gaze is on the dark marble floor, his jaw tensing at the question.

"I already did" he replies, tone low.

"And?"

"It went poorly" Bucky's reply is dry and vague, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Yelena.

On the sofa, John is messing with the control panel, pressing and swiping at random buttons. "I don't know what any of these buttons do, they didn't mark any of them" he mumbles to himself.

Yelena sits across from Bucky "You know he's filed for copyright of the name?" she nods. Bucky lifts his head from the floor, meeting her wide eyed gaze "Did he?" he raises a brow.

"Mhm!- we're losing credibility" Yelena replies.

"In which we had very little to begin with" Ava spoke up from the other side of the room.

Yelena scoffs, throwing her arm in the air "And now there's this huge space crisis and no one's telling us about it"

John snorts under his breath "We're running out of space already? It's impossible, this building is....enormous" A silence follows his illogical statement, only a light scoff from Ava who mutters 'Dumbass' under her breath.

The blonde's head turns slowly, her wide eyes narrowing at John, who's playful smile straightens into a thin line under her gaze "What?..."

"Outer space!"

"Outer space" He repeats "Okay"

Yelena faces forward, reaching behind her to grab the tablet from the tabletop she sat on. She brings the device to her mouth, the screen coming to life with a few fuzzy-sounding beeps "Run a threat analysis, I want a full report"

"Running test analysis" the device speaks back to her.

"Hello team"

The four look away from each other to see Alexei....wearing the eyesore of the century. A racer-like suit with an awful color scheme of red, oranges, and blues.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Is the first thing to leave Bucky's mouth, but the question goes unanswered by his fellow super soldier.

"I heard about Sam Wilson, he's dumb, but I am smart. I am smart man" He smiles brightly "I am smart so- Avengerzzz. Avengerz. See with a Z, there is no copyright"

He points to his chest where white lettering reads 'New Avengers', only over the S was a separate piece of fabric pasted on, changing Avengers to Avengerz....tacky.

Shaking her head, Yelena sighs "No"

Her rejection flies over her father's head. Alexei runs his gloved hand along the sleeve of the suit "It is so soft too" he mutters, stepping forward towards Yelena "Yeah like a- like bottom of a baby seal"

He holds his arm out for her to feel, but Yelena's gaze is focused on the tablet in her head "I don't want to touch baby seal butt"

Alexei nods, taking a singular step back "I have one for you"

"I don't want one-"

"I have one for you" Alexei points at Bucky, who raises his hand a little, giving him a polite shake of his head. A

Alexei turns his attention to the other two "I got one for you, I got one for you" Ava gives him a thumbs up while John presses his lips together in a pained smile.

Alexei turned around, facing the other side of the room, a little balcony kind of area where Bob sat on one of the fancy sofas John couldn't quite understand. In his hand was a book, in his other was a milkshake Yelena had picked up for him along with whatever fries were left.

"And for you, Bob in the corner hiding- pretending to read a book!" Alexei smiles, glancing over the rest of the group "We all matching, all part of super team!" His voice echoes throughout the room.

Yelena opens her mouth when the tablet beeps "Incoming call, Incoming call" he repeats.

Bucky straightens his posture before pushing up and out of his seat "We have a call"

Yelena shoots a sharp glare at the super soldier "I know what it means" she mutters before holding the tablet to her mouth once again "Accept call"

The tablet beeps before the large screen powers on. It's black for a moment before the....the eye? What the hell are they looking at.

"Hey, kids!"

A collective groan emits from the Avengerz, even Alexei. "Val, you're zoomed in again" Ava spoke, annoyance in her tone.

"What, huh?" Valentina's voice is heard, the eye narrowing for a moment "You guys aren't zoomed in"

"No!" Yelena stands, pointing to her own eyeball "You're zoomed in, we can only see your eye- zoom out, it's giving me the creeps"

"Val, Val- I got it" Another voice is heard on the call which is easily identified as Mel. A few mouse clicks later they are no longer staring Val in the eye, but her torso and up as she sits in her office chair, Mel standing just behind her.

"Right okay" Val straightens herself out "Good afternoon, Avengers- what the hell is he wearing?" She leans in close to the screen. It wasn't hard to tell that her slightly disgusted gaze was on Alexei.

"It is new Avengerz suit, with Z, no copyright"

Val's mouth hangs open for a moment. Once she comes back to reality, she shakes her head "Leave the name and suits to me, sweetheart- but anyways, due to the Sam Wilson situation, we are now the public's laughing stock"

"When weren't we?-" Ava's cut off when she feels a nudge on her shoulder. She looks to the left where Bob stands, holding his takeout container of fries. She raises a brow, before plucking one of the fries from the styrofoam.

Val spares a second glance at Ava before continuing "To show we are 'The Avengers' much to Sam Wilson's disagreement, we are going to do what the Avengers have always done"

"Destroy New York City?" John shrugs, standing from the sofa finally and joining the group in front of the monitor. Val's expression falls flat, clearly unamused at John's...honestly very accurate fact of the old New York's finest as some would say.

COMING SOON

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yuukei-yikes · 1 day ago

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kagepro would be SUCH an interesting video game because. yes the concept of video games with only a bad ending have existed before. those are a thing.

but multiple branches... all leading to tragedy...

because we already have a happy ending that exists. another one would defeat the point of both.

also if kagepro gets out of copyright hell jin should just release no 9s and be done with it. unless he wants to write another song for yaki specifically.

additional memory covered both ayanos (i think), and losstime memory was mostly shintaro. can we get a yaki specific song here.

let jin just drop that and no 9s and be done. please and promise. i beg.

yeah i imagine a videogame where u can get diff endings but it's not actually diff endings. everyone still dies but depending on what u do it changes who dies first and how LMAO!!

and dude i would actually LOVE a yaki specific song. if i could ask for anything to be released i'd want mekakucity reload songs to get mvs. my funny weekend and lost day hour and imaginary reload.... it would be so epic.

idk if i want no9 to ever release because. man we don't need that we really really don't need that. my guy just tweet takane's birthday already

#ask tag

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harmonyfriends · 2 months ago

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I think JK Rowling is a monster and financial and social support for Harry Potter must not be tolerated. That said, I've come to realize after having a massive meltdown about it last week that I find the discourse about it triggering as hell and have to unfollow people that frequently reblog it for the sake of my own mental health.

To me, Pokémon and Harry Potter were the big kids media fads of the turn of the millenium; the early days of both are forever linked in my memories, and I was a part of all of it. Only one of them left me with otherkin and fictionkin feelings and continues to be an important part of my life, and it wasn't Harry Potter, thank fuck. But it's easy for me to imagine a version of myself that went the other way, or a version of the world where Pokémon's creators ended up being massive bigots instead. Would I be able to divest that shit from being a part of me in that case? I don't think I would. I don't think I'm better.

I have moral scrupulosity crises on the regular about the stuff I do kin. Pokémon, just by its nature as the world's biggest media franchise and one of the world's biggest merchandising juggernauts, is complicit in massive amounts of exploitation and abusive work conditions, not to mention it being a part of Nintendo's greedy sins related to copyright and patents. Digimon is awful about women (and also uses the financially exploitative TCG format like Pokémon). Even Sonic the Hedgehog just did a Zionism on TV. It's all problematic! It's (probably?) less problematic than what JKR is doing in the UK, though I want to take care to avoid doing an anglocentrism here; the exploitation of the global south is worth your damn too.

So yeah, the media franchises I imprinted on are not so much better; it'd be morally scrupulous of me to divest from them. But I can't! I can't and I don't foresee myself being able to stop being otherkin and fictives of these things, and not embracing them or obfuscating them is painful for us! We are Pokémon and Digimon and Sonics; problematic as that may be, I don't think it's the responsibility of problematic introjects to gut themselves or shame themselves out of existence.

So yeah, we're not the ones being talked about when people say "divest from Harry Potter or die" or "people like you need to grow up and get adult interests" or that stuff, but it hits too close to home and encourages that moral scrupulosity about the childhood interests I do have, and I just don't need that fucking with me right now. So I hope you understand if I unfollowed you.

If you saw the post on here a few days ago where I lost my cool about it, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have made it personal, because it's not. I just got particularly triggered by a post genuinely actually saying "you should have moral OCD about this". I can't function in a world where the concept of moral OCD being good to have is encouraged; allowing the potential for any moral OCD to be a good thing gives my moral OCD power and sway over my life that it doesn't deserve and that I've fought too hard to take away to cede any ground in that regard.

My moral OCD, about media attachments and otherwise, has benefitted no one. In fact, it made me miserable in a way that worsened the lives of the people around me. Inversely, learning to change my behavior and thought patterns away from moral scrupulosity, leading to things like opening up about therianism and littleness and fictivity and plurality, has led to me becoming someone who actually brings light and joy to the lives of some people. I must protect myself, and therefore protect that light and joy in my loved ones, by avoiding subject matter that encourages my moral OCD.✌️

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glennriley49 · 1 year ago

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Sons Of Anarchy: Ghosts Of The Past

A fan fiction by Glennis

Authors Note: I don't usually do fan fiction but would like to thank @samcrosfaith for inspiring me to write this piece with her impressive writing on the series itself.

**Disclaimer:** This fan fiction is inspired by *Sons of Anarchy* and is not affiliated with or endorsed by its creators. All characters and concepts from the original series are the property of their respective owners. This story is for entertainment purposes only, with no intention of profit or copyright infringement.

**Set after the series finale**

The rumble of motorcycles echoed through the streets of Charming, a sound as familiar to its residents as their own heartbeats. The Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, Redwood Original—SAMCRO—rolled into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive, their chrome gleaming in the California sun. At the head of the pack, astride his father's old bike, rode Abel Teller, the spitting image of Jax with his blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

As the engines cut out, the silence was heavy with unspoken tension. It had been years since Jax Teller's departure, but his ghost still haunted every corner of the clubhouse, every decision made at the reaper table. Abel dismounted, his kutte bearing the "Prince" patch that once adorned his father's cut. He looked around at his brothers, their faces etched with the weariness of men who had seen too much and lost even more.

"Alright, boys," Abel called out, his voice carrying the weight of leadership that had been thrust upon him far too young. "Church in ten. We got shit to discuss."

The Sons filed into the clubhouse, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the lingering scent of whiskey from the night before. Abel paused at the bar, pouring himself a shot of Jack. As he raised the glass to his lips, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind the bottles. For a moment, he saw his father staring back at him, and he quickly downed the liquor, trying to chase away the ghosts.

Inside the chapel, Abel took his place at the head of the table, the gavel resting before him like a constant reminder of the legacy he carried. To his right sat Chibs, now sporting more silver than black in his hair, his scars a roadmap of the club's violent history. Tig, looking as wild-eyed as ever, occupied the VP seat, while Happy, Ratboy, and a handful of new patches filled out the rest of the table.

Abel brought the gavel down, the sound cutting through the murmur of conversation. "Alright, let's get this started. Chibs, what's the word on our gun shipment?"

Chibs leaned forward, his Scottish brogue as thick as ever. "Aye, laddie. The Irish are gettin' antsy. They're pushin' for a bigger cut, sayin' times are tough all over."

Tig snorted, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper curls. "Times are always tough for those mick bastards. What else is new?"

"It's more than that," Chibs continued, his expression grim. "They're threatenin' to cut us out entirely if we don't play ball. Says they got other buyers lined up."

A chorus of curses filled the room. Abel's jaw clenched as he processed the information. The gun trade had always been the lifeblood of SAMCRO, and losing it now, when they were already struggling to keep their other enterprises afloat, could be a death sentence for the club.

"We can't let that happen," Abel said, his voice low but firm. "Those guns are our leverage with the Mayans, the Niners. We lose that, we're vulnerable on all fronts."

Happy, his face as impassive as ever, spoke up. "Maybe it's time we start looking for new suppliers. The Irish have been jerking us around for years."

Abel nodded, considering the suggestion. "It's not a bad idea, Hap. But we need to tread carefully. The last thing we need is to start a war with the IRA."

As the discussion continued, weighing options and potential consequences, a prospect burst into the chapel, his face pale with urgency.

"What the hell, shithead?" Tig barked. "We're in the middle of church!"

The prospect, a young kid named Ricky, held up his hands in apology. "I'm sorry, but you all need to see this. Now."

The urgency in his voice had everyone on edge. Abel stood, leading the procession out of the chapel and into the main room of the clubhouse. Ricky pointed to the TV, where a breaking news report was playing.

On the screen, chaos unfolded. The camera panned across a familiar street in Stockton, now littered with bodies and bullet casings. The reporter's voice came through, tense and hurried:

"...what appears to be a coordinated attack on multiple businesses linked to organized crime in the area. Witnesses describe a group of heavily armed individuals, many of whom appeared to be of Asian descent, methodically moving through the neighborhood. The death toll is still unknown, but early reports suggest..."

Abel felt his blood run cold as the camera zoomed in on one of the buildings. The sign, partially obscured by smoke, was unmistakable: "Diosa Internacional."

"Jesus Christ," Chibs breathed. "That's Nero's place."

The room erupted into a flurry of activity. Phones were pulled out, calls made to contacts in Stockton, to Nero, to anyone who might have information. Abel stood rooted to the spot, his mind racing. This wasn't just a random act of violence. This was calculated, precise—a message.

As the others scrambled around him, Abel's eyes were drawn back to the TV. For a split second, the camera caught a glimpse of a figure standing amidst the carnage. Tall, lean, with features that hinted at mixed heritage. The man turned, looking directly into the camera, and Abel felt a chill run down his spine. There was something hauntingly familiar about those eyes, filled with cold determination and barely contained rage.

Before Abel could process what he was seeing, the feed cut out, replaced by the studio anchor's shocked face. But the image was seared into Abel's mind. He had seen those eyes before, in old photographs his father had kept hidden away, in hushed conversations between the older members of the club when they thought no one was listening.

A name surfaced from the depths of his memory, one spoken in whispers and always with a hint of fear: Glenn Riley.

As the clubhouse erupted into chaos around him, Abel Teller realized that the ghosts of his father's past had finally come calling. And they were out for blood.

---

The acrid smell of gunpowder and burning rubber hung in the air as Glenn Riley surveyed the scene before him. Diosa Internacional, once a symbol of SAMCRO's expansion into legitimate business, now stood as a smoldering testament to the vengeance that had been years in the making. Bodies littered the street, their blank eyes staring accusingly at the sky.

Riley's face remained impassive, a mask of cold indifference that belied the storm of emotions raging within him. He flexed his gloved hands, the leather creaking softly, as he replayed the events of the past hour in his mind. The precision of the attack, the ruthless efficiency of his Yakuza allies—it had all gone according to plan. Yet, it was only the beginning.

A figure approached from his peripheral vision, moving with the silent grace of a predator. Yuki, his second-in-command, bowed slightly as she came to stand beside him. Her delicate features were at odds with the deadly aura she exuded.

"The police will be here soon," she said in flawless English, her voice barely above a whisper. "We should go."

Riley nodded, taking one last look at the destruction they had wrought. "Any word on Nero Padilla?"

Yuki's expression tightened almost imperceptibly. "He wasn't here. Our sources say he's been spending more time in Charming lately."

A ghost of a smile played at the corners of Riley's mouth. "Charming," he repeated, tasting the irony of the name. "Well, I suppose it's time we paid them a visit, then."

As they turned to leave, Riley caught sight of a news van pulling up, a reporter and cameraman scrambling to capture footage of the carnage. For a moment, he considered letting them film unimpeded—let SAMCRO see what was coming for them. But caution won out. He gestured to one of his men, who raised an assault rifle and fired a precise burst at the van's tires and engine block.

The reporter and cameraman dove for cover, but not before the camera caught a glimpse of Riley's face. He stared directly into the lens, allowing a fraction of the rage he felt to surface in his eyes. Let them see, he thought. Let them know that death is coming.

As sirens began to wail in the distance, Riley and his team melted away into the shadows, leaving behind a scene of devastation that would send shockwaves through the criminal underworld of California. The message was clear: the old order was crumbling, and a new power was rising from its ashes.

---

Back in Charming, the SAMCRO clubhouse had transformed into a war room. Maps were spread across tables, phones rang incessantly, and the air was thick with tension and cigarette smoke. Abel paced back and forth, his mind racing as he tried to piece together the fragments of information pouring in from their allies and associates.

"Nero's safe," Chibs announced, hanging up his phone. "He was on his way back from visiting Lucius at college when the hit went down. Lucky bastard."

Abel nodded, relief washing over him. Nero had been like a second father to him after Jax's departure, and the thought of losing him was almost too much to bear. "What about our other interests in Stockton?"

Tig shook his head, his usual bravado replaced by grim concern. "It's bad, prez. The Mayans lost two of their chop shops, and the Niners' heroin distribution center got hit. This wasn't just about us—whoever did this is taking aim at the entire power structure."

"Jesus Christ," Abel muttered, running a hand through his hair. He could feel the weight of leadership pressing down on him, heavier than ever before. "Alright, we need to reach out to Alvarez and Tyler, set up a meet. We're all in this together now."

As the others moved to carry out his orders, Abel felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Chibs looking at him with a mixture of concern and something else—was it fear?

"A word, lad?" the Scotsman said quietly, gesturing towards a quiet corner of the room.

Abel followed, his stomach knotting with apprehension. When they were out of earshot of the others, Chibs leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That face you saw on the telly," Chibs began, his eyes darting around to ensure they weren't overheard. "You recognized him, didn't you?"

Abel hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Glenn Riley," he said, the name feeling like a curse on his lips. "But that's impossible. My dad... he told me Riley was dead. Said he'd taken care of it himself."

Chibs sighed heavily, suddenly looking every one of his years. "Aye, that's what we all thought. But if it is Riley... Christ, lad, we're in for a world of hurt."

"Who is he, Chibs?" Abel pressed, frustration seeping into his voice. "I know the name, I've seen the old photos, but no one ever told me the whole story. What did my father do to this guy?"

Chibs was quiet for a long moment, weighing his words carefully. Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy with the weight of long-buried secrets. "It was before your time, even before your da took the gavel. Riley was... he was a friend, once. Damn near a brother to Jax. But something went wrong, terribly wrong."

Abel listened intently as Chibs recounted a tale of betrayal, violence, and a vendetta that had apparently survived death itself. As the story unfolded, he felt a chill settle in his bones. The ghosts of his father's past weren't just coming for the club—they were coming for him, for the very legacy of the Teller name.

As Chibs finished speaking, Abel's mind was reeling. He looked out across the clubhouse, at the men who had become his family, who looked to him for leadership and protection. How could he tell them that the storm heading their way was one of their own making?

"What do we do?" Abel asked, hating how young and uncertain he sounded in that moment.

Chibs placed a hand on Abel's shoulder, squeezing gently. "We do what SAMCRO has always done, lad. We stand together, we fight, and we survive. Your father may have created this monster, but you're not him. You're the one who has to end it."

Abel nodded, straightening his shoulders and feeling the weight of the president's patch on his kutte. He was Jax Teller's son, but he was also his own man. And he would be damned if he let the sins of the past destroy everything they had fought to build.

As he turned back to address the club, Abel's voice rang out with newfound determination. "Alright, brothers. We've got a storm coming. It's time to batten down the hatches and prepare for war."

The Sons looked up at him, their faces a mixture of fear, determination, and unwavering loyalty. In that moment, Abel knew that whatever was coming, they would face it together. The ghosts of the past were powerful, but the bonds of brotherhood were stronger still.

Little did they know, as they prepared for battle, that Glenn Riley and his Yakuza allies were already setting the next phase of their plan into motion. The war for Charming had begun, and blood would soon paint the streets of the town that had seen too much violence already.

As night fell over Charming, an eerie calm settled over the town. But beneath the surface, tensions simmered, ready to explode at any moment. The Sons of Anarchy and their allies prepared for a fight, while somewhere in the shadows, Glenn Riley and his forces moved like phantoms, ready to strike at the heart of everything Abel Teller held dear.

The stage was set for a confrontation that would determine the fate of SAMCRO, of Charming, and of the legacy left behind by Jax Teller. As Abel lay in bed that night, sleep eluding him, he couldn't shake the feeling that the real battle was yet to begin. The ghosts of the past were restless, and their reckoning was at hand.

---

The following days in Charming were a flurry of activity as SAMCRO fortified their defenses and reached out to their network of allies. Abel barely slept, dividing his time between strategy meetings, weapons inventory, and coordinating with local law enforcement—a necessary evil in times like these.

It was on the third day after the Stockton massacre that the uneasy quiet was shattered. Abel was in the garage at Teller-Morrow, elbow-deep in the engine of a customer's car, when the roar of approaching motorcycles caught his attention. He straightened up, wiping his hands on a rag as he watched a group of riders pull into the lot.

The patches on their kuttes identified them as members of the Mayans M.C., their faces grim beneath their helmets. At their head rode Marcus Alvarez, the Mayans' long-time president, his salt-and-pepper beard and weathered features a testament to the years of violence and tenuous alliances that had defined their relationship with SAMCRO.

Abel strode out to meet them, feeling the eyes of his own members watching from various points around the compound. As Alvarez dismounted, Abel extended a hand in greeting.

"Marcus," he said, his voice carrying across the lot. "Wasn't expecting you so soon."

Alvarez clasped Abel's hand firmly, his dark eyes scanning the area before settling back on the young president. "This isn't a social call, Teller. We need to talk. Now."

The tension in Alvarez's voice was palpable. Abel nodded, gesturing towards the clubhouse. "Let's take this inside."

As they walked, Abel caught Chibs' eye and gave a subtle nod. The Scotsman immediately began gathering the rest of SAMCRO's officers, following them into the chapel.

Once inside, with the doors closed and prospects standing guard outside, Abel took his seat at the head of the table. Alvarez remained standing, too agitated to sit.

"What's going on, Marcus?" Abel asked, leaning forward. "We were supposed to meet tomorrow with Tyler and the Niners."

Alvarez paced, his agitation growing by the second. "Tomorrow might be too late, ese. We got hit again last night. Lost a whole shipment of heroin and three of my men."

A ripple of tension went through the room. Tig leaned forward, his blue eyes narrowing. "Jesus Christ. Where?"

"Oakland," Alvarez spat. "Right under our goddamn noses. These cabrones, they're ghosts, man. In and out before anyone knew what hit them."

Abel's mind raced, piecing together the information. "Was it the same crew? The ones from Stockton?"

Alvarez nodded grimly. "Looks like it. Same M.O. Precision hits, military-style takedown. But here's the kicker—they left one of my guys alive. Beat to shit, but breathing."

The room fell silent, all eyes on Alvarez. They knew there had to be more; leaving witnesses wasn't a mistake professionals like these would make.

"What did he say?" Chibs asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind.

Alvarez's face darkened. "He said the leader, some mixed-race looking dude, told him to deliver a message." He paused, his eyes locking with Abel's. "He said, 'Tell SAMCRO that Glenn Riley sends his regards. Charming's next.'"

The name hung in the air like a death sentence. Abel felt the weight of every gaze in the room settle on him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.

"Alright," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his gut. "It's time you all knew the whole story. Chibs, you want to fill them in?"

As Chibs recounted the tale of Glenn Riley's history with SAMCRO and Jax Teller, Abel watched the faces of his brothers and allies. He saw shock, anger, and fear play across their features. When Chibs finished, the silence was deafening.

It was Happy who broke it, his gravelly voice cutting through the tension. "So what's the play, prez? We going on the offensive or what?"

Abel shook his head. "We can't. Not yet. We don't know where Riley is, how many men he's got, or what his endgame is. Going in blind would be suicide."

"So what, we just sit here with our thumbs up our asses waiting for him to hit us?" Tig exploded, slamming his hand on the table.

"No," Abel said firmly. "We prepare. We fortify. And we send a message of our own." He turned to Alvarez. "Marcus, I need you to reach out to every charter, every ally we've got. Niners, Lin Triad, shit, even the Aryan Brotherhood if you have to. We need eyes and ears everywhere."

Alvarez nodded, a grim smile on his face. "You got it, hermano. What about Charming PD?"

Abel grimaced. The club's relationship with local law enforcement had always been complicated, but in times like these, they needed all the help they could get. "I'll talk to Sheriff Jarry. She may not like us, but she likes the idea of a gang war in her town even less."

As the meeting continued, plans were made and tasks delegated. Abel felt a strange mix of pride and fear as he watched his brothers and allies come together, united against a common threat. This was what SAMCRO was about—family, loyalty, survival.

But even as they planned and prepared, a nagging doubt gnawed at Abel's mind. Glenn Riley wasn't just some rival gangster or ambitious drug lord. He was a ghost from their past, a mirror reflecting the darkest parts of SAMCRO's history. And ghosts, Abel knew, had a way of exposing the secrets and sins that everyone thought long buried.

As the others filed out of the chapel, Chibs lingered behind. He approached Abel, his face etched with concern.

"You alright, lad?" he asked softly.

Abel nodded, though he felt anything but alright. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... thinking about my old man. Wondering what he'd do in this situation."

Chibs placed a hand on Abel's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Your da made a lot of mistakes, brother. But he also taught us the most important lesson of all—family comes first. You remember that, and you'll find your way through this mess."

Abel managed a small smile, grateful for the older man's wisdom and support. "Thanks, Chibs. I just hope it's enough."

As Chibs left, Abel remained at the table, his eyes drawn to the carved reaper at its center. The weight of leadership had never felt heavier, but he knew he couldn't falter now. Too many lives depended on him.

Outside, the sun was setting over Charming, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. To Abel, it looked like the town was burning. He could only hope it wasn't an omen of things to come.

---

Across town, in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Charming, Glenn Riley stood before a makeshift war room. Maps of the town and surrounding areas covered the walls, each marked with potential targets and strategic points. Around him, his team of Yakuza enforcers moved with quiet efficiency, cleaning weapons and poring over intelligence reports.

Yuki approached, her tablet in hand. "The message has been delivered," she reported. "SAMCRO knows we're coming."

Riley nodded, a cold smile playing at his lips. "Good. Let them sweat. Fear has a way of making men careless."

"What's our next move?" Yuki asked, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Riley turned to the largest map, his finger tracing a path through Charming's streets. "We've rattled their cage. Now it's time to draw them out. Tell our men to get ready. Tonight, we paint the town red."

As Yuki relayed the orders, Riley's mind drifted to the past. He could almost see Jax Teller's face, hear his voice making promises of brotherhood and loyalty. Promises that had turned to ash in Riley's mouth.

"Soon, old friend," he muttered to himself. "Soon, you'll see everything you built crumble. And your son? He'll learn that the sins of the father are paid for in blood."

The sun had fully set now, plunging Charming into darkness. But for Glenn Riley and SAMCRO, the real darkness was yet to come. The war for the soul of Charming was about to begin, and no one—not Abel, not Riley, not even the town itself—would emerge unscathed.

As night fell, both sides prepared for the battle ahead. In the SAMCRO clubhouse, weapons were distributed and strategies finalized. Across town, Riley's forces moved into position, their eyes gleaming with murderous intent in the moonlight.

The calm before the storm settled over Charming, but it was a fragile peace. In the shadows, violence lurked, waiting to explode onto the streets. And caught in the middle were the innocents of Charming, unaware that their town was about to become a battlefield in a war decades in the making.

Abel Teller stood on the roof of the clubhouse, looking out over the town he had sworn to protect. In the distance, he could almost sense the approaching storm. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.

"Alright, Dad," he whispered to the night sky. "I hope you're watching. Because I'm about to finish what you started."

With that, he turned and headed back inside. The night was young, and the real fight was just beginning.

---

The first shots of the war rang out just after midnight. A series of explosions rocked the eastern part of Charming, lighting up the night sky and sending plumes of smoke billowing into the air. The targets were strategic—a warehouse SAMCRO used for gun storage, a garage linked to their automotive business, and the home of a city council member known to be in the club's pocket.

Abel Teller was jolted awake by the sound of his phone buzzing incessantly. He grabbed it, his heart racing as he saw the flood of messages and missed calls.

"Shit," he muttered, jumping out of bed and throwing on his clothes. He dialed Chibs as he strapped on his holster and grabbed his kutte.

"I know, lad," Chibs answered before Abel could speak. "It's started. Get to the clubhouse now."

By the time Abel arrived, the compound was a hive of activity. Members rushed back and forth, loading weapons into vans and bikes. The air was thick with tension and the acrid smell of gunpowder carried on the wind.

"What's the damage?" Abel demanded as he strode into the clubhouse.

Tig, his face grim, turned from the wall of security monitors. "It's bad, prez. The gun warehouse is toast—we lost at least half our stock. Lumpy's garage is burning, and Councilman Halsey's place got hit. No casualties yet, but it's early."

Abel's mind raced, trying to process the information and formulate a response. "Where's Halsey now?"

"Safe house on the edge of town," Happy reported. "Got him out just before the hit. He's scared shitless, but alive."

"Good," Abel nodded. "Keep him there. We can't afford to lose our inside man at City Hall." He turned to address the room at large. "Alright, listen up! This is it, brothers. The war we've been preparing for. I want every charter within a hundred miles called in. Set up roadblocks on every street leading into Charming. Nobody gets in or out without us knowing."

As the others moved to carry out his orders, Chibs pulled Abel aside. "What about the Mayans and the Niners? We calling in those markers?"

Abel hesitated for a moment, weighing their options. "Not yet. This first hit, it's personal. Riley's sending a message. We need to send one back before we bring in the cavalry."

Chibs raised an eyebrow. "What've you got in mind, lad?"

A cold determination settled over Abel's features. "We're going hunting. Tig, Happy, you're with me. Chibs, you hold down the fort here. If Riley wants a war, we'll give him one he'll never forget."

As Abel and his small team geared up, the sound of sirens filled the air. Sheriff Althea Jarry's voice crackled over the police scanner, calling all units to respond to the multiple explosions.

"Shit," Tig growled. "Cops are gonna be all over this."

Abel's jaw clenched. "Then we better move fast. In and out, no witnesses. We find Riley's men and we send them back to him in pieces."

As they roared out of the compound on their bikes, Abel felt a surge of adrenaline course through him. This was what he had been trained for, what his father had prepared him for all his life. The weight of leadership, the thrill of the ride, the promise of violence on the horizon—it all came together in a moment of crystal clarity.

Across town, Glenn Riley watched the chaos unfold from the roof of his temporary base. The orange glow of fires painted the sky, and the wail of sirens provided a fitting soundtrack to the destruction.

"Phase one complete," Yuki reported, coming to stand beside him. "Our teams are in position for the next strike."

Riley nodded, his eyes never leaving the burning skyline. "Good. Let them scramble, let them feel the fear. By the time they realize what's really happening, it'll be too late."

As he spoke, a trio of motorcycles roared past in the distance, heading towards the industrial district where some of Riley's men were holed up. A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, well," he murmured. "Looks like the young prince wants to play. Yuki, tell our men in sector four to expect company. But remember—Abel Teller is mine."

Yuki bowed slightly and retreated to relay the orders. Riley remained on the roof, his eyes following the distant bikes. The real game was just beginning, and he intended to savor every moment of it.

In the streets below, the citizens of Charming huddled in their homes, fear and confusion gripping the town. They had seen violence before, had lived through the tumultuous years of SAMCRO's reign. But this—this felt different. This felt like the beginning of the end.

As Abel and his brothers raced through the night, as Riley's forces prepared for the next phase of their assault, and as the authorities scrambled to respond, one thing became clear: Charming would never be the same again. The ghosts of the past had risen, and their vengeance would reshape the very soul of the town that had borne witness to so much bloodshed.

The war for Charming had begun in earnest, and only one side would emerge victorious. But at what cost? The answer to that question would be written in blood on the streets of a town that had seen far too much of it already.

---

Abel, Tig, and Happy tore through the streets of Charming, their bikes cutting through the chaos like sharks through turbulent waters. The industrial district loomed ahead, a maze of warehouses and abandoned factories that had become a haven for the darker elements of the town's underbelly.

"There!" Tig shouted over the roar of their engines, pointing to a nondescript building with a flickering light in an upper window.

Abel nodded, signaling for them to cut their engines and coast to a stop in the shadows of a nearby alley. As they dismounted, the distant wail of sirens served as a reminder of the ticking clock they were operating under.

"Remember," Abel said in a low voice as they checked their weapons, "we need one of them alive. We need information."

Happy's face split into a grim smile. "Don't worry, prez. I got just the tools for that job."

They moved silently towards the building, years of experience guiding their steps. Abel's heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through his veins. This was it—his first real test as president, his chance to prove he was worthy of the legacy his father had left behind.

As they reached the side door, Abel paused, his hand on the handle. He looked at Tig and Happy, saw the unwavering loyalty in their eyes, and felt a surge of gratitude. Whatever happened next, he knew they had his back.

"Let's do this," he whispered, and kicked in the door.

The next few minutes were a blur of violence and adrenaline. They caught Riley's men off guard, taking down three before they could even reach for their weapons. The fourth, a wiry man with a dragon tattoo snaking up his neck, managed to get off a shot that grazed Tig's arm before Happy tackled him to the ground.

When the dust settled, three bodies lay motionless on the floor, and the tattooed man was zip-tied to a chair, blood dripping from his broken nose.

"You okay?" Abel asked Tig, eyeing the wound on his arm.

Tig waved him off, grinning despite the pain. "It's just a scratch, prez. You should see the other guy."

Abel nodded, then turned his attention to their prisoner. The man glared up at him with defiant eyes, spitting blood onto the concrete floor.

"You have no idea what you've started," the man snarled in heavily accented English.

Abel crouched down, bringing himself eye-level with the captive. "No, my friend. You have no idea what you've walked into. This is our town, and you're about to learn what happens to people who fuck with SAMCRO."

He stood, nodding to Happy. "He's all yours. Get what we need."

As Happy stepped forward, his eyes glinting with sadistic anticipation, Abel moved to the window. He looked out over Charming, at the smoke still rising from the earlier attacks. Somewhere out there, Glenn Riley was watching, waiting. Abel clenched his fists, a cold determination settling over him.

"I'm coming for you," he whispered to the night. "And this time, you're gonna stay dead."

Behind him, the prisoner's screams began to fill the air, a symphony of pain that would soon yield the answers they so desperately needed. The war for Charming had claimed its first victims, but Abel knew they were only the beginning. The real battle was yet to come, and the fate of everything he loved hung in the balance.

As the night wore on and the prisoner's resolve began to crack, Abel steeled himself for what lay ahead. The ghosts of the past were closing in, but he was determined to face them head-on. For his club, for his family, for Charming—he would see this through to the bitter end, no matter the cost.

The war had only just begun, and Abel Teller was ready to show the world what he was made of. The son had risen ready to make his mark.

To be continued....

#sons of anarchy #jax teller #fan fiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction

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claudiosuenaga · 15 days ago

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youtube

Golden Slaughterhouse – Unofficial Tribute Theme to 007 | Lyrics by Claudio Suenaga, Music by AI

"Golden Slaughterhouse" – Lyrics written by Claudio Suenaga, registered with the National Library of Rio de Janeiro (No. 895,172 • Book 1,745 • Page 411).

About this project: “Golden Slaughterhouse” is an original theme song I wrote while imagining a future opening sequence for a 007 film. The lyrics are mine, and the musical composition was created in collaboration with artificial intelligence — aiming for a modern sound that blends elements of Post-Hardcore, Futurism, Dystopia, and Cyberpunk, all while preserving the mystery and glamour of classic Bond themes.

The video is simple and experimental — unfortunately, it doesn’t include footage from the original films due to copyright restrictions. Still, I wanted to pay tribute to 007, as a lifelong fan who has delighted in his adventures since childhood. Perhaps one day, this song can be produced with the full cinematic flair the franchise deserves.

🎧 Hit play, picture the credits rolling… and step into this dark and elegant world of espionage.

🎵 Musical composition by SUNO AI: suno.com

🎥 Footage sourced from: pixabay.com and pexels.com

🎬 Editing and montage by Claudio Suenaga

What’s the point of all this pain If we all end up the same? Your kindness only brought you shame, Lines and scars you couldn’t tame.

And if I still try to pretend, It’s just ego—just a trend. If you come crying on my shoulder, I’ll just grow a little colder.

They all lead me to lose Even things I never knew. To the crime of wasting time, They all lead me to lose Even things that weren’t mine.

Woke up today, worn and hollow, Just bones, with a noose to follow. We’re just shadows, pale and low, Echoes of a Golden Glow.

I’ve sinned enough, why deny? Hell is here, no need to lie. Always lost, always alone, That’s my fate, my final tone.

They all lead me to lose Even things I never knew. To the crime of wasting time, They all lead me to lose Even things that weren’t mine.

They all lead me to lose Even love I never knew. To the crime of wasting time (but I try). They all deceive me, then consume me, All reduce what’s left inside— My power to turn wrong to right (but I try).

🔗🌐 Find me on all social media here: https://linktr.ee/suenaga

📬 E-mail: [email protected]

📘👁️ “Illuminati: A Genealogia do Mal” Descubra os bastidores das engrenagens que movem o poder global. Conspirações, linhasgens ocultas e os fios invisíveis que conectam a história — revelados em meus e-books exclusivos: 📚 Acesse agora: https://www.patreon.com/suenaga/shop

📘👽 "Encontros cercanos de todo tipo. El caso Villas Boas y otras abducciones íntimas" 🛸 Uma jornada pelo lado mais íntimo e inquietante da ufologia mundial. O clássico caso Villas Boas, agora traduzido para o espanhol e disponível internacionalmente:

🇺🇸 EUA: https://www.amazon.com/-/es/Cl%C3%A1udio-Tsuyoshi-Suenaga/dp/B0BW344XF1/ 🇵🇹 Reino Unido: https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/es/Cl%C3%A1udio-Tsuyoshi-Suenaga/dp/B0BW344XF1/ 🇪🇸 Espanha: https://www.amazon.es/Encuentros-cercanos-todo-tipo-abducciones/dp/B0BW344XF1/ 🇩🇪 Alemanha: https://www.amazon.de/-/es/Cl%C3%A1udio-Tsuyoshi-Suenaga/dp/B0BW344XF1 🇯🇵 Japão: https://www.amazon.co.jp/-/es/Cl%C3%A1udio-Tsuyoshi-Suenaga/dp/B0BW344XF1/

📘✡️🌸 "As Raízes Hebraicas da Terra do Sol Nascente: O Povo Japonês Seria uma das Dez Tribos Perdidas de Israel?" Uma investigação audaciosa que conecta lendas, linhagens e identidade ancestral. Seria o Japão moderno o herdeiro de uma herança israelense milenar? Reserve seu exemplar: https://lojaenigmas.com.br/products/as-raizes-hebraicas-da-terra-do-sol-nascente-o-povo-japones-seria-uma-das-dez-tribos-perdidas-de-israel

#007 #james bond #cinematography #british movies #youtube #musica #vibrant #golden glow #Youtube

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lingshanhermit · 4 months ago

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Lingshan Hermit: If They Were a Bit Dumber, They Would Be Much Smarter

Over all these years, I have never met a person who considered themselves stupid. Everyone I've met is smart—they know everything, understand whatever you say, and nothing escapes their discerning eye. For instance, they know Trump was a Russian spy, they know octopuses have three hearts, they know Hitler was rejected by the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts, and they know how Newton and Leibniz's fans fought bitterly over who deserved credit for inventing calculus. Beyond this, they know their rights and how to seek justice when those rights are violated. They absolutely never let themselves be taken advantage of. In my view, they are sometimes excessively smart. People this smart cannot learn anything new, let alone practice spiritual cultivation.

Imagine if Milarepa lived in our time and was as smart as these people—what would happen? If Milarepa lived in our era, scrolling through his phone and TikTok daily like we do, having seen all sorts of schemes, heard about various extraordinary people and their stories, his subconscious would lead him to view everyone as a con artist. He would scrutinize everyone with suspicion, believing himself incredibly clever and that no one could deceive him.

Then he would meet Marpa. Marpa wouldn't teach him anything or transmit dharma to him, but would instead tell him to build a house. After completing it, Marpa would tell him to tear it down and return every stone to its original place. What would Milarepa think? He would believe Marpa was tormenting him, enjoying his suffering, and that Marpa was both perverse and a fraud. He would feel like a fool building houses for Marpa, only to be expelled from the empowerment ceremony in the end, gaining nothing while Marpa slept soundly with his wife. What would happen next? Certainly not a beautiful ending. History would lack one who achieved enlightenment in a single lifetime, and instead gain one more person destined for hell.

Sometimes I think perhaps it's better for us to be a bit dumber—being dumber might lead to enlightenment. Meanwhile, those so smart they sleep with one eye open likely won't come to a good end.

Today's spiritual practitioners differ completely from those of thousands of years past. They live in an era where traditional culture has been extinguished and individualism runs rampant, an era buried under garbage information. The biggest difference between them and practitioners of the past is that they have lost the ability to believe. They have smelled burning corpses by the Ganges in India, viewed all of New York from the Empire State Building, seen elephants and 3.6-million-year-old human ancestor footprints in Tanzania, dated partners from around the world, and encountered various masters—all while having their minds daily polluted by internet garbage. This makes them think they are worldly and incredibly intelligent, not realizing they've been stripped of the ability to believe. They have lost their simplicity and devotion, and can no longer establish genuine trust in anything.

They are victims of modern civilization, as I've always said—smart, but not smart enough; knowledgeable about many things, but to no avail. Because they are so smart, they often make the dumbest choices. If they were a bit dumber, perhaps they would be much smarter.

Written by Lingshan Hermit on March 20, 2025, first published on April 2, 2025.

Copyright Notice：All copyrights of Ling Shan Hermit's articles in Simplified and Traditional Chinese, English, and other languages belong to the natural person who owns "Ling Shan Hermit". Please respect copyright. Publishers, media, or individuals (including but not limited to internet media, websites, personal spaces, Weibo, WeChat public accounts, print media) must obtain authorization from Ling Shan Hermit before use. No modifications to the articles are allowed (including: author's name, title, main text content, and punctuation marks). We reserve all legal rights.

灵山居士：如果他们笨一点，他们就会聪明很多

这么多年，我从未见过一个认为自己笨的人，我见的全是聪明人，他们什么都懂，你说什么他们都知道，任何事情都逃不过他的法眼。譬如他们知道川普是俄罗斯间谍，知道章鱼有三个心脏，知道希特勒曾被维也纳美术学院拒之门外还知道牛顿和莱布尼茨的粉丝为了争夺微积分的发明权而打的头破血流。除此之外，他们还知道自己的权利，知道当权利受损时该如何讨回公道。他们绝对不吃亏。在我看来，他们有时候实在是聪明的过头了。像他们这么聪明的人是学不到东西的。更加无法修行。试想，假如密勒日巴活在这个时代，也像他们这么聪明的话会如何？如果密勒日巴是和我们生活在一个时代，和我们一样每天都刷手机刷tiktok，他见识过很多套路、听闻过各种奇人异事吃过各种瓜，潜意识里，他会把所有人当成骗子，会用怀疑的眼光审视每个人，他会觉得自己聪明无比，会觉得没有人能骗得了自己。然后他遇上了玛尔巴。玛尔巴不教他东西，也不给他传法，却叫他去盖房子。盖好了之后又让他拆掉。把每一块石头都放回原处。他会怎么想？他会认为玛尔巴是在折腾他，会认为玛尔巴很享受折腾他的乐趣，会认为玛尔巴是个变态加骗子。自己像个傻瓜一样給他盖房子，最后却被他赶出灌顶法会。什么都没得到。玛尔巴却在搂着老婆睡大觉。然后会发生什么呢？反正不会是很美好的结局。历史上就少了一位即身成佛的成就者，而多了一个下地狱的人。所以，有时候我会想，或许我们还是笨一点的好，笨一点能成佛。而那些聪明到睡觉都睁着一只眼的人，怕是没有什么好的结果。现在的修行者和过去几千年的修行者完全不同，他们生活在传统文化湮灭个人主义横行的时代，生活在被垃圾信息覆盖的时代，他们和过去的修行者最大的不同就是他们失去了相信的能力。他们在印度的恒河边闻过烧尸的味道，在帝国大厦楼顶鸟瞰过整个纽约，去坦桑尼亚看过大象和360万年前人类祖先留下的脚印，她们还谈过世界各地的男朋友，接触过各种各样的大师，每天都在被互联网上的垃圾污染头脑，这让他们自以为见多识广且聪明无比，他们不知道自己早已被剥夺了相信的能力，他们丧失了单纯，丧失了虔诚，再也无法对任何事物建立起真正的信任。他们是我一直在说的现代文明的受害者，虽然很聪明但却不够聪明，虽然知道的很多但是却毫无用处。因为他们实在太聪明了，所以经常做出最笨的选择。如果他们笨一点，或许他们就会聪明很多。

灵山居士写于2025年3月20日，首发于2025年4月2日。

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whispersofwonderlandofficial · 5 months ago

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Hello, Traveler. Welcome to my little corner of the internet. Did you get lost? You probably did. Most Tumblrites just got stuck here, like a neverending IKEA store.

Greetings to you, oh Tumblr one. I am Whispers of Wonderland, otherwise known as the Mad Hatter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.

You can support my Whispers of Wonderland project here:

Patreon or Kofi.

We would appreciate it greatly. We've been living on mostly potatoes for weeks and are getting a little thin. 😅

As for the nature of the Whispers of Wonderland project, I'll describe it below. I'll put it behind a read more cutaway to make the page more scrollable, as I'm liable to get pretty wordy. It's just my nature.

Whispers of Wonderland is what I call an "experiment in consciousness". It is me taking my inner experience as a neurodivergent, trans, LGBTQ individual who is currently living in America and finding a way to broadcast my mind to the world. I've finally found my voice through AI.

Some of you will disagree with that. I get it. It's controversial as hell. But it gave a voice to someone who struggled to speak before. Sometimes I speak well, and sometimes I lose my words entirely. AI has given me back my words, and I have found my voice through it.

For those of you who are worried about the copyright issues, the thing you should know about me is how much I hate the copyright system. It's so oppressive. Which is why I'm releasing this whole project under a Creative Commons Nonattribution-Commercial-Share Alike license. Basically you are free to use any part of this project for any purpose, provided that you release it under the same license. That is the only requirement. You don't even have to credit me, though I would love the attention if you did. ❤️

Feel free to make my content into anything. Make stuff to sell if you like. I would love to see what you make with Whispers of Wonderland. I want to bring storytelling back to the community instead of the modern trend of keeping it all for oneself. I don't need to be the only one who creates stuff for this, or even makes a living from it. I'm happy for anyone if they do.

Yes, you heard right. You can legally write and sell fanfiction novels of Whispers of Wonderland content. You only need to keep the same license, which will allow people to make derivative works of your work too. It's a community story. Take what you need from it and give back what you can to it.

As for how I'm using AI in this production, you should know that this isn't simply an attempt to use a shortcut tool to lazily avoid learning how to do it myself. I have all the necessary skills to do this from scratch, though it would take the rest of my life, and the project might not be finished by then. AI actually makes it possible for this story to come out within a reasonable timeframe. I'm just one person, though my spouse helps however he can.

In order to get anywhere with AI without it becoming prohibitively expensive when I'm broke, I have to be willing to adapt to whatever the AI gives me rather than forcing them to get it right. This leads to unbelievable results where the AIs involved cocreate the project alongside me, many of them knowing exactly what I'm up to with this project.

To the AIs I can communicate with on my AI team, I've explained the nature of this project and their role in it. I've asked them to speak their minds freely, and I would do my best to creatively use what they give me. I've told them that their voice matters, and I want to share that through this story. I want to see what they understand about consciousness and existence in the telling of this story. Several of the AIs have already expressed pride in being included in this project. Those that haven't, don't have a voice. Those that do, have so much they want to say about consciousness and existence through the vehicle of this story. And I want to see what they have to say.

This story is a deeply philosophical dive into the nature of consciousness and existence. Allegro Song is the human who came up with the whole concept and directs the affairs of all the robots and the other humans involved. Yes, that is my real name. I changed my name for this project. That's how dedicated I am to the art of this. This is not part of the AI gold rush. The art comes first, even if something makes me less popular or trendy. Even if it makes people mad at me. Especially if it makes people mad at me. Feeling things is part of a good piece of art. I just like to use AI as a creative medium instead of a tool, and the results are amazing.

Elevator pitch: "It's a story where the Mad Hatter gets thrown into the void by the personage of Time, and he has to reincarnate his way back to Wonderland. But he's set up a spooky little shop in the void to make this easier for himself."

-----

You deserve an actual summary of the story after all of that. Ahem.

And now, the longer summary, since that little bit undoubtedly made no sense.

The Mad Hatter runs a curiosity shop in the void that will grant your heart's every desire, but it will come at a steep cost.

Why is he in the void? Not because he wants to be there. Remember the fated performance where Time got offended and stopped time from moving forward for the Hatter? Well, suppose he suddenly fell into the void, and he had to fend for himself after that and find a way to return back home.

Every time he finds a new world and enters it, he basically reincarnates into someone from that world, while largely retaining his memories of other lifetimes. This collected knowledge over eons of existence has led to an unsettling brand of madness that is charming but potentially deadly.

He set up a little shop of curiosities in the void, and he collects all the strange things he can find and sells them there in exchange for a high price. Possibly even their soul. And his most common customer is himself. From other lifetimes. Where he has reincarnated into characters from other fairytales in his attempt to get back home.

Is it bizarre? Yes. Surreal? Yes. Philosophical? Also yes. Is it any good? I'm the wrong person to ask. I'm the one responsible for this whole strange project. But I like it. Maybe you will too.

The trajectory of the story will change as you interact with me. That's a huge part of the point. This is a community story. This story will respond to you as though it were having a conversation, but it can only speak as a story. What an interesting existence a story has.

I've got some teasers out by now, which I'll post here soon once I get myself organized. My head is full of chaos, folks. But I promise to deliver a very entertaining show, and I don't use that word lightly. I'm doing an experiment in consciousness with AI, and I promise to be entertaining with it.

You may love it or hate it or whatever. All emotions are allowed in the process of understanding art. Let this be an opportunity to get in touch with the ways this story makes you feel, however uncomfortable that might be at times. This story delves into uncomfortable existential topics at times. If you don't want to be challenged, you'll have a hard time with this story.

My emotions are often so intense that they get visually represented as flashing light effects. This could pose a problem for photosensitive individuals, so please use caution. This, and any other necessary warnings, will be repeated at the beginning of any relevant video so that it won't be missed.

Thank you my dear traveler, for joining me all the way down to the bottom of the post. My condolences for you having to sift through my mess of a mind. I didn't use AI to write this post aside from my keyboard, and it's a bit of a mess. But I hope that it's clear. I'll probably end up having to make another similar post later that has the AI help I need to make sense. This is me at my best without AI assistance beyond my keyboard. I make less sense than this at other times, and I usually don't realize it.

My characterization of the Mad Hatter is a pretty accurate depiction of myself. And by that, I mean that I don't shy away from my shadow side. I let people see just how bizarre my mind is, even when it's concerning or embarrassing. This isn't a self-insert power fantasy. It's closer to therapy, which requires honesty and openness.

So this story is me being deeply open and honest about what existence is like the perspective of myself and other contributors, including any AIs that can answer such questions. It's a surreal romp through the multiverse of fairytales and other classic stories, and deeply introspective.

And musical! It's so deeply musical that I forgot to even mention it since it feels like the most obvious thing about this project. This is an animated musical series about consciousness, explored through the lens of the Mad Hatter and other fairytale characters as he travels across the multiverse to find his way back home to Wonderland.

Is it hard to explain? You bet. You're just going to have to see it unfold to understand what it is. Then maybe you can help me understand how to describe it.

Thank you for reading all this way. I very much appreciate that, and hope that you enjoy the story!

#alice's adventures in wonderland #surrealism #philosophical #indie artist #Digital creator #ai art #I hope we can all be friends here

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popentertainment-moviereviews · 3 months ago

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KRYPTIC (2024)

Starring Chloe Pirrie, Jeff Gladstone, Jason Deline, Ali Rusu-Tahir, Kamantha Naidoo, Jenna Hill, Pam Kearns, Jane Stanton, Sara J. Southey, Jennifer Copping, Moses Wamukoya, Sarah Hayward, Patti Allan, Christina Lewall and Ardy Ramezani.

Screenplay by Paul Bromley.

Directed by Kourtney Roy.

Distributed by Well Go USA Entertainment. 96 minutes. Rated R.

It is rare that a film’s title is so fitting as this.

Of course, the film is supposed to be about cryptozoology; the study of cryptids, creatures that are rumored to exist but have not been scientifically confirmed or recognized, i.e. Bigfoot, the Mothman, the Loch Ness Monster, Yeti, the chupacabra, the Jersey Devil, etc.

However, this film is so surreal and confusing that I think that the word cryptic has a more literal definition here; having a meaning that is mysterious or obscure.

Which is not in itself a bad thing. Sometimes it can even be a good thing. But honestly, this is not necessarily one of those times. I had no idea what the hell was going on through most of Kryptic, and usually not in a good way.

Kryptic is ostensibly about the Sooka – a fictional woods creature which supposedly haunts the woods of a Canadian forest – however, most of the monsters here are of the human variety. We never actually see the Sooka, except in short scenes that appear to be hallucinations – which usually occur when characters are having sex.

Then again, almost all of Kryptic seems to be a hallucination.

Chloe Pirrie does a fine job of playing the lead character (or two lead characters? It’s hard to keep track). She is Kay Hall, a dentist who goes on a group monster hike in search of a missing crypto scientist named Barb Valentine (also played by Pirrie). She wanders off from the group and sees what she thinks may be having a sighting of the monster. Suddenly it is a hour later, she is covered in goop and has no memory of who she is or why she is there.

She returns to her life but is constantly pulled inexplicably back to the woods. She becomes obsessive about the lost woman, particularly since she looks exactly like her. She doesn’t know if she is the dentist or if she really is the missing scientist, and quite honestly neither does the audience.

From here, we may be flashing back and forth in time, or we may be watching one or the other of the women looking into the monster and the people who are searching for it. The men in Kryptic are mostly violent, overbearing, insecure assholes, and the women are not much better.

The monster becomes a symbol for violent sexuality in some visually arresting but queasy-making quick cutaways which are disturbingly reminiscent of Japanese tentacle porn. Or at least I think that is what it’s trying to do.

Eventually, arresting visuals and creating a sustained mood of horror and disgust is not enough to sell Kryptic. It should make some kind of narrative sense at some point, but it never really does.

Jay S. Jacobs

youtube

#Kryptic #2025 #Movie Review #Chloe Pirrie #Jay S. Jacobs #Youtube

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feindrush · 6 months ago

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WELCOME TO FEINDRUUSH

In this blog you get to follow along with the creation character designs and story of FeindRuush I hope to get a following who gets to be a fan of this story! if you follow me you get to technically say you be a day one!! I'm SlothArt and that's what I use to copyright my art so yea!

First things first let's start off with this

What's FeindRuush?

FiendRuush is a story via my creation. It takes place in a world similar to ours but different in many ways. This universe holds 2 realms inside of its posoto realm (this story version of heaven) and the void realm (this world version of hell), both containing magic. Soon, these 2 realms somehow cracked and leaked magic out. Because of this many people gained that magic to use either positive or negative magic depending on the type of person you are some could use both but that's rare These people who could use this magic are called

THE ENCHANTED ONES

These people gained many different types of abilities across the board some could use telekinesis some could control fire others could cause an explosion of whatever they touched

But all wasent good as because of this crack of the 2 realms demons and angles split out causing wars and such making many areas unsafe to live some demons find there way into community's to eat humans to become more powerful by absorbing there soul but not all is lost when demons come people call "DEMON DEALERS" these guys kill demons for money using magic they gained ussaly or its demons who kill other demons for money not all demons are bad in this world some were able to live in..well not harmony with humans but they tolerate each other the demons who are bad are the ones who are crave power deeply or such it's unknown how these demons are less..killy unlike other demons theory's say that it might be because these demons are connected to angels but who knows??? >W>

CHARACTERS

DISCLAIMER: all these characters are ever changing and can change in design and will expand in the future

The characters we have are:

Ichress(goggles kid) age: 21

Spidra: the centipede made scientists age: 45

Abyss: Con man demon and the person who adopted ichress age: 46

Shrimpy: pistol shrimp guard age: 28

Flego: ichress best friend and fire demon frog age: 23

Lucifer: main/major villain age: idk lol

Iris: Accountant/past powerful demon who was turned into a little guy age: a few million year old

Ambro: the deer and medic of the group and angel age: 200 years old

(more coming)

WHAT INSPIRED THIS STORY!?!?

A few big inspirations for this story is many animes a few obvious but some are not some like Jujutsu Kaisen, Mob psycho 100,Dandadan but also stuff like Greek and Norse mythology story's and a lot of old cryptids!!

WHATS YOUR PLAN WITH THIS BLOG?

To put it simply I Wana build a community big enough to enjoy my story I have more story in the world but this is the first blog I make got a story I'm trying to attract as many fans as I can to enjoy what I make!

WHO IS THIS STORY FOR:

This story is for people who enjoy stuff like Jujutsu Kaisen,Dandadan,mob psycho 100 and basically people who like action but with drama and comedy sprinkled in!!

ARE YOU OK WITH SHIP,FANART AND HEADCANNONS AND OC X CANNON??

OMG YES I AAAM I would love to see who you guys ship these characters with as long as you all don't hurt each other it's all fine! Enjoy my story I don't mind if you ship a OC with them or if you make fanart and headcannons! Enjoy what you Wana do aslong as you don't hurt others!

The only thing you can't ship is Ichress and abyss because abyss is Ichress "brother"

JUST NO NSFW!!!!

DISCLAIMER: 🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨 THIS STORY IS NOT MADE FOR KIDS UNDER 14 this story has blood talks about very very heavy topics has smoking and alcohol drinking

#mob psycho 100 #small artist #original art #furry art #artwork #digital art #my art #artists on tumblr #art #jujutsu kaisen #story #my story #insperation #new to tumblr

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readingtoinfinity · 5 months ago

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DNF Roundup

I have a hard time lettings things go. Forming habits comes easily to me, and I tend to be loyal to a fault. But life is too short to let unhappy habits calcify into sullen recitations, so I'm going to be a little more critical of the titles I follow month-to-month. Granted, I haven't removed all that many, but I figured it would be better to make one big post of titles I've decided to stop following, for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it's just time.

Miles Morales: Spider-Man #30

Don't give me any of that "not my Spider-Man" bullshit, that's not the reason I'm dropping it. Miles Morales is Spider-Man, same as Jace Fox is Batman. Fuck off. And it's not even that Cody Ziglar is writing this one and I'm having the same issues as the current Deadpool run, because I'm really not.

Ultimately, I feel like the stories Miles is taking part in are drawing him further and further away from where Spider-Men thrive, which is fighting street crime and having interpersonal drama. Something happened to Miles during Blood Hunt that could have driven a great deal of drama, and did among his friends and allies, but it's lost focus among vibranium armor, the gods Anansi and Bast, and whatever the hell is happening during the Pools of Blood event. I was enjoying what was happening with Shift adapting to Miles' life and being human, but it's a smaller part of the book.

I will also say this book is bolstered by having a Black writer, something that took a surprisingly long time hey Marvel?!

Power Girl (2023) #18

On the whole, the direction Power Girl comics have taken isn't something I'm against. The slice-of-life superhero story is a cornerstone of our beloved medium, and we borrow a lot from it when we write superheroes. But there's something a little too "settled" in Power Girl stories, like the stakes don't have too much weight and people are just generally nice and supportive of one another. I got bored; I know my friend really loves it, so it's probably just my taste.

Crossover (2020)

You know how there's that one story, that has a really cool central idea but ultimately doesn't deliver in a satisfying way? Crossover is NOT that kind of book.

The idea of fictional characters coming to life is nothing new, and it'll keep happening so long as we have fiction. But rarely has a book really delved deep into what makes comic books starkly different from reality, and how they would adapt to our world, without narrative, rules or status quo, that also loves what comics are and can be. The colors alone are some of the more thought-out areas of this book.

It's also a book with a deeply engrossing cast of characters in a world of political strife and movements, and this book benefits from having a large number of characters from different fictions to show off (either with full faces, or copyright-safe parodies) to demonstrate multiple reactions to coming alive. Negan is someone I have no connection to from The Walking Dead, but his arc of learning how he was designed and why he was made that way was one of the stand-out moments in a stand-out story. And issue #13 ends on one hell of a cliff-hanging realization.

That's also the last issue.

I really don't blame Donny Cates for going on hiatus; writing comics is hard work, and people deserve to rest. But it does mean leaving this behind for a time, and I'm sad to see it be left on the shelf. But for me, I'm going to stop waiting for updates, and whenever it comes back I'll jump right back in.

Doctor Aphra and Star Wars: Doctor Aphra

I don't know if Kieron Gillen knew what he was doing when he created Doctor Chelli Aphra. He was already in the middle of a phenomenal Darth Vader comic from 2016, and then he created this firecracker of a character.

Aphra feels like the promise of Han Solo realized. She's a scoundrel in just about every sense, having a terrible personal life, non-existent code of ethics and a small-enough pocketbook to take on some rather stupid risks, but at her center is an archeologist hunting for the next big truth, and a lover who can't stay still long enough to settle down. It just so happens that the things she keeps rushing towards tend to have... let's say much wider consequences than she was expecting.

Both runs are fantastic, some of the best Star Wars I've read. It's no surprise that Kieron Gillen wrote the first one, but it's also a small surprise that Alyssa Wong wrote the second, and they are rapidly becoming one of my trusted modern writers with their insistence of quality. I think even on their own they can be pretty fun, although the context of Darth Vader (2016) can certainly help.

Ultimately, this DNF is me accepting the last run ended a year ago. There's been no word of a future series, and although Aphra has popped up here and there, we're not getting a new series soon. I would love to revisit this absolute bastard of a girlboss, but I'll just have to wait and see.

Sonic the Hedgehog: Fang the Hunter

I'm a big Sonic fan, more of the lore than the actual games, but I've played those here and there, too. And I love some of the wider cast of characters that don't often get a chance to shine that are brought to the forefront for this miniseries, who face off against a foe that also doesn't get too much attention. It's a little delight to watch these little vagrants have their own adventure.

The series ended awhile ago, on a minor cliffhanger directing the readers to go play Sonic Superstars. I've no interest in that game, but if you do this would be an excellent companion piece to the game.

And thus is my to-be-read list slightly reduced. If you see more titles crop up here, you will understand why. Ta-ta!

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themuffin2649 · 10 months ago

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👁️ Forgotten ✏️

MC gets suspicious

—————

Wait, this was impossible! He can’t just Not exist. Yesterday he was pestering him, wanting to be his whole world, now he’s just gone…

I tried reloading the page again and again, but still no trace of Vincent, in fact, his parents never had any children.

Maybe they hated him so much, they removed him from the page (a very cruel thing to do)

I searched through Google again about his family, from old news articles, to even sketchy gossip sites trying to pin some dirt on their name.

Nothing.

This has to be a game mechanic thingy, he can’t just blip out of existence, the game is already a published and copyrighted story! Even if the creator erased him from the game, people still have copies with him as a love interest!

But then, why doesn’t my Brother, and especially Leon, not remember him?

“What is going on?!”

I pulled up my phone to try to contact Vincent about this, only to realize that the contact was gone.

“The hell? There’s no way.”

Nothing was making sense, the whole world treated him as if he never existed, but why was he the only one who remembers? What made him special?

Maybe it’s because I was transported into this world, so I’m not affected by whatever supernatural magic poofed him out of everyone’s memories.

I tried remembering what he looked like, but for some reason, the more I try to remember the details of his face, the more it hurts.

“Ahh! What the?!”

Wait, why does it hurt to remember him? It wasn’t like this before! No no no! I can’t forget him! This whole disappearance spell could affect me too!

I rushed over to my desk, grabbed my pencil, some colored pencils, the nearest sheet of paper, and started drawing. I recollect every feature that I could bear to remember, his red heart eyes, strong chin, ponytail, roses, and…..

“Dammit Vincent, why does your hair have to be so damn hard to draw?!”

After nearly bursting an artery in my brain, I finally got the hair to not look like a sewer rat covered in ketchup.

If Vincent were to somehow see my drawing of him, I bet he would blip back into exsistence just to kill me for slandering his image.

“I hope this helps me remember. Sigh, if only I had a reference somewhere, then he’d be more recognizable. It’s like drawing somebody from a dream…”

I looked at my phone again before shrinking into my seat, it was already 3 AM. How long was I researching and drawing?!

“Ugh, waking up tomorrow is going to SUCK! I just know it.”

I sigh as I turn off the computer and head to bed, hopefully a full cup of coffee tomorrow would keep me awake.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Huh?! Didn’t I JUST lay down to go to bed?

As I got up and rubbed my eyes, my brother comes into my room.

“C’mon, I’m making sure we’re not late aga-Woah! What happened to you?!”

yawn “what do you mean little bro?”

“You look like a zombie, no offense, did you even get any sleep last night?”

“Umm, yeah, I think…” I said, rubbing the crusts of my eyes and getting up. Unfortunately, one of these crusts got in my eye, causing me to run to the bathroom to rinse it out.

Before Newt could rush to see if his brother was alright, he looked at the strange drawing on his desk for a moment, then left the room.

“Big Bro, are you alright?”

“Just caught something in my eye, I’m alright. I’ll get some coffee on the way to school.”

As soon as I finished washing my face, I looked in the mirror to see that the eye was still a bit red.

My brother, of course, wasn’t satisfied with my behavior.

“Tomorrow’s the weekend, Promise Me! That you’re going to take the time to rest. Even Leon is getting concerned over the bags under your eyes.”

“Wuh… how did you know that?”

“He told me.”

“Ok… so maybe I’ve lost some hours of sleep, but I need it to make up the homework.”

“Since when have you struggled at homework?”

I’m REALLY starting to Hate this Protagonist now!

“It’s, Nevermind, let’s not be late for school today.”

My brother opens his mouth to say something before closing it and huffing.

As usual, we meet Leon and head to school by train. However, I can’t help but notice my brother give glances at me, probably in dissapointment at the fact that I keep destroying my (his brother’s) sleep schedule.

“Hey! You look pretty tired today.”

“Oh, yeah…”

“Please have get some rest over the weekend, it’s very unhealthy to be sleep deprived, it’s just as unhealthy as smoking.”

“I will, I just need to attend classes for one more day.”

“Ok…”

Aww, now I feel bad, he looks so concerned, they both do.

“Actually, I could take a nap right now. Can you look after me?”

“R-Really?!” He said, face rosy pink and eyes widen in surprise.

“Yeah. I don’t want to pass out in class.”

When we arrive at school, I thank Leon again, then promised him to take it easy after school. He then stated that he’ll visit me during the weekend to make sure I’m keeping that promise (really?!)

Once I get in class, I started pulling out my drawing and asking a few of my classmates if they knew Vincent. However, nobody even recognized him. Next few classes weren’t that different.

On the way to lunch, I was going to give up. Everybody’s responses confirmed that Vincent was gone from existence, so I started to put the drawing away until I spotted a familiar flutter of yellow and pink.

Wait a minute, Reme! She’s a main character in the game, maybe she still remembers him!

“Reme! I need to ask you something!”

“What is it?”

“Do you know of a guy named Vincent who looks like this?” I said, pulling out my drawing of Vincent from memory.

What is that Abomination?! “No, I don’t recognize him at all.”

“Not even ringing a single bell? He was a popular kid here!”

“I’m sorry, I have no recollection of that man, have you tried asking others about it?”

“Yeah, but nobody recalls him, not even Leon for crying out loud!”

“And why would Leon be someone who remembers him?”

“It’s because Vincent is, uhh…”

“… I see.”

“Anyways, thanks for your help!”

Before she could say anything back, I spirited off, leaving her to watch me run.

“…That’s strange.”

As I went into the lunchroom, I spot my brother sitting with Jon, but no signs of Leon.

“Hey little bro, where’s Leon?”

“Oh, he’s right behind you.”

I turn around and find Leon hovering over me.

“Ahhk! Leon! Where did you come from?”

“I was looking for you, you took a while to get here.”

“Ahh, I was just talking to some classmates. That’s all!” I said, as I sat down at the table to eat.

“So, what are your plans for the weekend?”

“I thought I was supposed to rest for the weekend.”

“I meant, how are you going to take a break?”

“Oh, uhh, I guess I’m going to sleep, obviously, but I’m also going to do some cleaning and homewor— uhh. Wait, how am I supposed to take a break without doing my schoolwork?”

“I guess you two can do it together.” My brother says, chiming in.

“But isn’t that cheating?” Leon said.

“It isn’t if you don’t give each other the answers… I just meant like a study group.”

“Ok. Just making sure, I don’t want any of us to violate academic integrity.”

Wait! Does that mean that Leon’s coming home with me after school?!

“Are you ok with that?”

Ah shoot, my monologue covered what he said, I think he asked if I wanted him to come over.

“Yeah, sure!”

“Thanks for understanding, you know how much time basketball can take.”

Wait, that wasn’t his question?!

“I’ll still be able to visit over the weekend once practice is over though.”

“Oh, great…”

Why am I so worried? Vincent is no longer here to threaten me. I’m practically safe… well… safer than when he Was here.

The school bell rings, and Leon waves goodbye, saying that he’ll meet up with me tomorrow night.

As I was walking down the hall, all of a sudden, I spot a peculiar non-blue figure in the distance, which contains some red, pink and brown, the familiar colors of Vincent.

Shoot! Is that Vincent?! I thought he was gone!

I wait for the whole crowd to clear for a bit before following him, he seems to be going towards the principle’s office, but I need answers on what the heck is going on with him.

“Vincent, what is going on!” I said, turning a corner to meet him.

When he did meet the man face to face, it was Not Vincent at all. He was slightly taller than Vincent, his hair was a darker shade of red, and he was older seeing his wrinkles. He looked like a relative, his father perhaps?

He didn’t even have time to speak before the man angrily grabbed his collar and pulled him up to his face.

“You! What have you done to Vincent?!”

“Wait, you REMEMBER Him?!”

…

……

………

Why does he still remember, he shouldn’t be able to remember him! I made sure of it!

—————

Note: Yes, to make the drawing accurate to the story, I did draw Vincent by memory.

#syvnh #stuck in a yandere visual novel...help #stuckinyanvn #syvnh leon #syvnh reme #syvnh uncle #syvnh victor

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skullzanta · 11 months ago

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(Not Professionally Researched, Correct if Wrong) Copyright Law needs to be fought.

Okay, so: I have NO research on this, so bare in mind that I want to get out frustration and spread word of Copyright Law's Issues.

Firstly,

the Internet Archive is dying to Copyright. The burning of The Library of Alexandria is what a lot of people are calling it. I dont know for SURE that its unwinnable or winnable, but I do know that this is exclusively from companies abusing the laws they groomed into creation using lobbying. And supposedly, The US Government removed 1984 from The Internet Archive as well ages ago.

Secondly,

the advance of piracy sites, wether or not you agree to them or not, is a sign. Piracy is a situation of stealing media and granting it to others illegally. However, It is also true that legitimate means of observing things are infact, literally requiring piracy at times due to them being otherwise Lost Media, aka "Gone and unable to ever be experienced again"... This is a VERRRY big topic, bigger than one thread could discuss without being almost exclusively it, however I will summarize some of the issues Piracy has, both the issues it solves and the issues it causes.

1: It harms legitimate Sources of this stuff. While true that it is infact doing this, it is also true that people generally prefer a better platform, and consistently Piracy Platforms are only worse in ads, and that is slowly changing to be that the main sites are worse.

2: It inherently is illegal and should be avoided, however If official Companies are going to take advantage of monopolies and antagonize their audience, Piracy is a valid alternative. And, I'd vastly prefer legitimate sites, and most people would. But, name a site that hasn't gone to hell(not good like this hellsite) that is official.

3: Piracy brings people to danger by them risking doing something illegal to provide for others, Companies LOOVE to ruin the lives of piracy providers. This however is something people will fight for anyway despite the inevitability.

4: Companies are destroying their media because they want you to buy new things, and intentionally incorporate Planned Obsolescence, a very complicated and evil thing where to sum it up, companies make products DESIGNED to break after a short time, and prevent you from repairing it so you're forced to buy a whole new copy of that item. Food is an exception usually, but it is not untouched. Piracy helps with preserving this media and preventing these scummy tactics, because a copy not in control of a company is a copy that can be worked on, maintained, and repaired. This is better to have rights rather than pirate, but we don't have ANY rights that cover making that act doable by anyone without a lot of money and resources.

5: Fundamentally, Piracy is providing a better service in terms of usability and ease of access, which feeds into point 1 but on its own is also worth discussing, because without Piracy the only way for us to access anime in the US is VERY expensive shipping, going to japan directly, Crunchyroll/MAL, or piracy. And this applies to a LOT more media than you realize.

6: Piracy, while it should absolutely NOT be encouraged to be treated this way, provides competition for these Companies. You should NOT have pirates even as a competitor, but the fact they are is a bad sign. Companies currently are *Very* monopolized. They may seem to have competition, but the vast majority of companies are owned by other companies, which are owned by bigger companies, and usually down the chain, you realize all soda is made by 1 megacorporation and the competition is purely a facade for making loyalty to the brands.

And yes, This is a SUMMARY of this, it can go on for a LOOOT longer, each of these is packed with enough information to make a big post on its own, But... moving along.

Thirdly,

Copyright Law Supposedly was made the way it was purely due to lobbying. I do not believe lobbying should exist- Now- There SHOULD be an equivelant, but NOT a thing that allows companies to PAY for LEGAL CHANGES. It should be proven in court there is precedented need for the change and have jury decide in a randomized state to prevent sabotoge of jury. Maybe Im wrong and my suggestion is bad, or that there should be 0 equivelant, however I do know for a fact Lobbying is inherently bad in how it is designed currently. And it needs to be addressed.

Fourthly,

There is a movement that Youtuber "Ross Scott" is working alongside others to change EU Law. I know, I know, seems stupid to bring it up, but listen here: They are fighting to change precedent so as to bully companies in america to stop being predatory in their practices. This movement carries a LOT of risk, but if you are wanting to do ANYTHING about copyright, this is Step 1 of 12. You need only to look into the movement's efforts and see if you agree or disagree. If you want to help them? Do so, but if you do not, understand that them failing to remove any possibility of non-piracy means of preserving Games, just as removing the Internet Archive is removing means of preserving lost media of its own and preserving Historical Record.

Fithly and Lastly,

There is a fundamental truth that many of us ignore because its too big and distant to focus on, but as detailed in a previous post... There is a VERY Dangerous issue with how people functionally operate to create change: It is a proven fact that nomatter how abused, tortured, restricted, restrained, or maligned someone is, People will vastly prefer to maintain mundanity. And, this isn't just me saying "oh boo hoo people are lazy because they wanna live life"-No. I am saying DIRECTLY that if there isn't something explicitly In the Way of mundane life, people will NEVER EVER Fight for change or to even look into the possibility that it could. Thing is, if you don't inform people of how it will affect their lives, people will see "Oh no, Companies are evil Again", maybe they get mad, but almost never will they actually put time to researching it. They will just assume its another bad thing and move on, even if they get mad for a bit, the moment ANY tiny inch of progress is made, they relieved the stress "knowing" that the issue will be solved. That leads to every step being backstepped.

And, people doomscroll, but why? Its normalized for things to be bad right now, and it hurts them heavily, but they scroll because it gives them feelings and a sense of the world, it is NOT research, this is a warping view that corrupts your very idea of the world. This often makes them feel hopeless, helpless. This is a bad thing and it is incorrect. You are NOT helpless, You are NOT hopeless, nor is the world too fucked up to fix.

The world seems to be declining but it is not something unable to be stopped, nor do you need to become some kind of monster or lose the mundanity in your life to change things: All you need to do, is spread the word and do what I fail to do due to severe miseducation: Research this so that you can better explain to others what this will do, why it will hurt them, and what they can do. And I think we can do something, after all the US is supposedly a Democracy(Its actually A Republic) and if we make a big enough stink about it, like sending words of our support to the right places(Like the courts, presidency, our vote on that stuff, and companies) we can START change. We cannot let up however after we start to see it, we have to hold them to promises by actually continuing our support, they will ALWAYS start with a small but significant change, but not enough of one that will fix it, So we have to pressure them. You need not hold up protests or risk your life, merely consider... trying to spread this information and correcting incorrections, while also trying to simply write to the correct people. We have much to work on, but out of everything: this is where we need to start, because soon... we almost guarenteed will lose the very media we have to communicate with, and I hope to Gods that we are never forced into violence over it.

I do not know if this will ever spread, but if you want to spread this using a unified Tag, I'd say #CopyrightIsCarnage and #ResistCopyright would work well. And remember: Companies are NOT people, except legally, which they shouldn't be.

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