#Analog-digital Conversion

[artsynerdwithasword-takecover]

Laxing Lily

[bronzeagetelevision]

[hazelfoureyes]

I'm not taking requests from anon but …. I will….always accept inspiration in my inbox. Just don’t expect a direct response.

I’m alive. Boooooy has shit been difficult and every day I kinda panic but I think survival mode is finally shutting off. I could list all the shit but why? It's not like we arent all wading through varying piles of shit on a weekly basis lately.

Curiosity

Alastor doesn’t believe sex can feel all that great for the ones being fucked. You offer to educate him on the matter with a little hands on learning. Everyone wins.

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x PussyHaving!Reader (has pussy and is called girl but I mean…I don’t know their business), casual virginity loss, non-sexually repulsed alastor, insulting but highly accurate bowling ball analogy, cervix smooches, creampie because dessert is a necessity, friends with questionable benefits, missionary position, science???, almost fingering, thumb (Singular), empty death threats, saliva as lube」

Minors I will yeet you back into the year of the dragon if you ignore the MDNI 🐉

Alastor��s hooves kicked playfully, slowly, in the air behind him as he rested on his belly. Two clawed fingers kept your lower lips pulled apart as he stared inquisitively at your self consciously twitching entrance.

“People’s things fit in here? I could see fingers, sure. A thumb, maybe…”, he mused, watching you clench around nothing. He learned from Angel more than he liked to admit and things seemed to fit the best for human and hellish anatomy alike. 

A large digit prodded, his head lifting and eyes meeting yours from between your spread thighs. His look was waiting for your approval or dissent. You nodded, sighing out another educational tidbit, “It feels best if things are slick.”

Alastor paused before wrapping his tongue around his thumb and coating it with viscous black saliva. Thumbpad facing down, his curved claw slipped into you easily. The natural roundness of the edges kept you from any cuts, but you had a feeling it’d be easy enough to do harm if he wasnt mindful of how he moved it. 

You could feel his other fingers pressing flat against the bottom of your ass. Instinctively you tightened around the digit.

“It's snug.” He sighed, vindicated. It was far too small a hole to fit anything more without tearing. Therefore: painful. 

“Well, it stretches quite a bit. It can adapt to alot. You - ergh - people can use soda cans and twelve inch dildos even for pleasure.” You rested on your bed, naked from the waist down. Your conversations together were always very open and without shame, neither of you worried to offend the other with questions about sex and gender. So when Alastor mused he couldn’t understand what the pussy-possessors among society got out of sex (he could understand the pleasure of a good squeeze on a cock, even if he hadn’t ever experienced anything beyond a hot mouth and a tight fist) the conversation just naturally progressed to your own personal sex education class. He’d only ever seen such anatomy in medical texts.

He cackled, “You are naive if you think that is true.” 

“Alastor, who's the expert here? I - can you remove your thumb? I feel like a bowling ball.”

Too quickly he took back his finger, your shoulders lifting slightly from the bed from the sudden loss. He paused a moment before adding, “You and a bowling ball have the same number of finger-able holes.”

Your glare went unnoticed, Alastor shifting onto his elbows again.

“Do you think people would willingly have sex if it was always uncomfortable?” You were lifted up on your elbows now too. Locked eye to eye with a very smug deer demon. 

He hummed, humans were animals and all animals followed instinct. “Maaaaybeee.” He teased, eyes breaking contact to look again at the now closed lips. “Regardless,” a wicked grin, “I can’t imagine it fitting without damage and pain.”

A stalemate. 

“You have seen people have sex, right?” You asked.

An uncomfortable pause.

“Why on earth would I watch people have sex?”

Surprise, then confusion, but finally you settled on intrigue.

“Okay, do it. I’ll show you it feels good for me and you can wipe that smile off your face.”

He tutted, “Never.” Alastor saw your flash of insult, “to the smile. Delivering pain is a hobby of mine, no matter the vehicle!”

When he sat up on his knees you shot up and you blurted out, “Wait. Do you have like, hell syphilis or something? Are you clean?”

His hair bristled, “Do YOU have syphilis?!”

“No.” You said it plainly.

Head shaking imperceptibly, a subtle ‘no’ mixed with a silent ‘then why would I?!’ telegraphed via his glaring red eyes, “Me neither.”

A bad start. Speaking of…

“Do you know how to start?”

“Is it much different than my thumb?”

I hope so. 

“Not really.”

He sighed away the remnants of agitation — was he clean?? Really? — and unbuttoned his pants. When his hands paused on the elastic of his underwear your head tilted curiously.

A step you’d both forgotten, cocks inherently had no bones like helpful fingers. Why was the prospect of handling himself mortifying but entering you wasn’t? Very rarely did he find you someone to have any concerns about and never had he felt an ounce of judgment when he admitted his blind spots and areas of naïveté. 

But this was… a step beyond. Almost humiliating in a sense, the source of the feeling was buried deep and obscured by time and disinterest.

“I’ll help.” Sitting up further, your hands went forward before you yanked them back into your bubble, “If that’s alright.”

Perfect, if he wasn’t able to get it up it’d be your fault and not his, he thought.

Nodding, he let his hands come to rest at his sides as he sat back on his legs.

The newness was evident in how he didn’t consider the mechanics of the position. You struggled a little to get this black underwear down his hips enough to release his very unaware cock.

Lifting his hips again and allowing you to pull the briefs down as far as needed (which seemed too far, honestly), you finally had eyes on something you’d been passably curious about.

It wasn’t that he was unattractive but there was a guilt to lusting over Alastor. He’d made it painfully obvious he didn’t find anyone at the hotel sexually interesting. It just isn’t his bag, as Husk had explained. Perhaps liquor had your eyes lingering a little too long on the resident villain.

Nervous and sweaty palms seemed beneficial as you held his soft member. They always felt so silly like this. How useless. Floppy. Your amused smile wasn’t comforting him an ounce.

It twitched, Alastor’s hands fighting to not come to his face and let him disappear away.

“Cute.” You whispered as you wrapped a hand around the Newtonian fluid-esque cock. You didn’t see his horrified face, focused instead on the feel of his foreskin sliding beneath your fingers. Alastor’s attention, too, shifted. He needed to breathe normally and that required all hands on deck (no puns intended). He’d never let anyone in death touch —-

A soft glow of blue flickered somewhere deep in his mind, a sloppy memory of a drunken slip up

It’d been what felt like a lifetime since he’d let anyone put their hands on his body. 

And due to that time his body reacted quickly and soon you had a handful. You both took a relieved breath then, the hurdle mounted. A little shock of pleasure to your core as you stroked his now firm cock made you shiver. It was hot in your hands, how much of that heat would you feel in your guts soon? Would he put it in and just—- pop it out like he had his thumb?

You’d shoo him away shortly after and finish things yourself in that case.

Alastor’s hands lost the battle and came to cover his lower face. That hidden grin showed teeth and he clenched his jaw to keep from letting a mewl slip. His cock was leaking so much it was embarrassing him. 

“Now you’re just playing.” He hissed.

He wasn’t wrong.

Wordlessly you came to lie on your side, a roll to your stomach interrupted as you considered things. With a glance back at the virgin you decided basic was best and returned to your back. Nothing too exciting. 

“Whenever you’re ready, then.” The smugness oozed through your tone. You knew he didn’t know enough to figure out what ready was. 

Alastor parted your legs further with his own widening thighs as he lowered his center to line up with you. He recalled you telling him the hole was very close to the bottom and it hadn’t dawned on him how low that was until the muscles of his thighs burned with the split. How was he going to move like this, he wondered.

Another recollection — wetter is better.

And though he could see a glistening wetness readying to drop down between your cheeks, he wasn’t experienced enough to know just how much your body could self lubricate. So for good measure and out of a sweet ignorance he spit into his palm and rubbed it down his cock from head to root.

The sound made you clench again. Why was that so hot? You’d never kissed, nor held hands. But now his sweat and cum would be fucked into you. 

Another clench as that lightning lit up your core, back bowing slightly with the sensation.

Could overlords sense blood pressure or hear heartbeats? You werent sure, but suddenly you worried about it. You had to close your eyes and focus only on your breathing, unaware it was your turn to hide your true reactions. If you started panting now he’d laugh so hard he’d go soft.

But the truth was, you could begin beatboxing and he wouldnt notice it. He was scooting closer, lowering and then raising his hips again to find a position that he could hold.

Thank Lucifer he never wasted time with this before. 

Finally he lined up and let his held breath go. His cockhead was slick and slipped up between your lips and headbutted your clit when he tried to press in. 

Your shocked scream was stifled into a gritted cry, bringing the back of your hand up to silence yourself. It hurt a little at first but that faded quickly. You whispered a single, “fuck.”

If he wasn’t already cock out Alastor would have just left. But, that would mean saying he was wrong and failed. Which wasn’t going to happen so he slid his cock back down the way he went and pressed into you with false confidence he knew it would go in. 

He gasped when he breached your lips. You were so hot. And that snugness was back, head and just an inch of shaft sheathed but his brain felt like most of his body was being tightly embraced. 

You felt him twitching, and tried to fight back the instinct to tighten around him to feel that little bit of movement even better. It didn’t work.

He hissed a “don’t” when you clenched around him, but you barely heard it over your own little moan. Alastor leaned forward and let his hands rest on either side of your ribs. Head hidden behind long and hanging bangs you couldnt see how his face twisted in concentration. He could cum like this, just one little movement and he was sure he’d finish. Not a normal problem for him, but it's easy to have a 100% win rate for a game you played just a few times before.

Alastor’s body was stick straight above you. 

His body wasn’t touching you except for the cock in you. It was odd, like he was hovering. Would he fuck you without touching you? That seemed so like him.

“Well, color me surprised.” He finally spoke, words breathy. He didn’t smell an ounce of blood so he knew you hadn’t torn. Your body was relaxed beneath him, your upper chest flush. When he looked up you were peering down over your cheeks with parted lips. He’d seen such expressions before in paintings deemed too salacious for museums in his time. 

“It feels even better when you’re moving.” You offered. He didn’t have to continue now that you’d proven your point but you really wanted him to. You’d not been fucked in ages and this was a situation that wouldn’t happen again. “But if this is enough proof…” you trailed off. 

He could imagine it. The feeling of that tender and somehow gripping flesh hugging him tightly as he moved forward more…. And pulled out. His glands would catch, wouldn’t it hurt you then? Wouldn’t he be scraping your delicate insides?

Alastor began pressing further in. Your hands gripped the sheets slightly, your walls were pushed open by his now steel hard member and you could feel a pool of heat low in your womb. You needed him to hit it, to thrust forward and rut against your cervix. But you had to take it slow, this was about him answering his questions first and foremost. 

“It won’t go any further…” he leaned back and inspected the situation. Two inches or so remained out in the cold. 

You shifted your hips and could feel the resistance. “If you start,” you needed a second to gather yourself before saying the rest, “thrusting properly now you’ll be able to get the rest in soon.”

His brow cocked. 

He’d have to trust you on that one and simply keep going. There were still more ways to move within you, to see if the piercing friction really could make you feel good. A moan broke through his defenses when he pulled out until the glands of his cock felt caught on your entrance. 

Alastor’s body crumpled, the pleasure made his muscles go weak. It was as if he couldn’t control them at all. Dangerous. 

His hips bucked from the sensitivity, thrusting forward. Alastor’s head fell back with a sharp gasp. Before he could worry over how he looked his hips were starting a shaky and mistimed pace. Head falling forward again so he could look down at where you were joined, he groaned. His cock was disappearing, girth holding your cunt open as it clamped down against him.  

Alastor felt dizzy from the physical rapture and a helpful redirection of blood. His body was light; bright and weightless.

What a treacherous sensation. He could almost understand rakes* now. 

Your first real moan reminded him why he was doing what he was. Face shooting up from the shadow of his hair he watched yours. Your brow was furrowed slightly, but apart from how hard you were biting your bottom lip he didnt see anything pained in your expression. Your sounds definitely did not say you were being harmed in any way. 

As his cock pulled against your entrance again and rammed back in, he gained new ground just like you’d assured. Another hungry thrust and he was flush with your body. You choked out a noise and gripped the sheets hard. 

“Painful?,” he opted for a single word to avoid his voice cracking with uncontrolled radio static. Alastor slowed his pace out of caution, he enjoyed pain but not like this. He’d only been trying to shock you earlier with his comments when he said otherwise. 

Your hips rolled, pressing him deeper and rolling your eyes back. It earned you a flipping of radio stations softly in the air around you. A babbled, “No, no,” before you could find the sense to look at him, “You’re doing so well. It feels so good. Don’t stop.” Another roll of your body to feel his leaking slit digging into your cervix. That white hot pleasure was fading now to something less mind numbing but still worth chasing. He had you split open down the center and you needed to feel him moving deep within.  

‘Well, Fuck,’ Alastor thought. The mechanics didn’t make much sense but he was seeing undeniable proof. He shifted his hips until his lower stomach was pressing down onto you and let his own normally unwanted instincts take over. You asked him to not stop, after all. 

Fluidly now he could fuck you, lower back activated and driving himself home deeper. Soon he was grunting softly each time he bottomed out. Animalistic auto-pilot kept his pace even and punishing. 

A slurred ‘feels s’good’ tumbled from your still parted lips. 

He watched your neck muscles strain and face redden, you were holding your breath and he couldnt understand why. 

Eyes slipping closed he focused on your warmth, and he could hear the sound of his skin sticking and popping free from your core. A faint wetness to his thighs came into focus from the fuzzy edges of his mind. He felt like he was melting from the center outward. 

Alastor failed to say anything when his climax mounted because it blindsided him. He leaned back for leverage and held your thighs for grip. A few harsh slaps of his skin into yours, your body rocking up slightly with the force before you felt his own warm wetness filling you. A sensation that came in waves with each twitch of his cock. When his body stuttered and a few more thrusts chased his semen deeper into you, your feet kicked out in an uncontrollable spasm of pleasure. 

You took in a deep breath and pulled him closer with your legs as soon as you regained control. Alastor’s turn to fist the sheets, you working your thighs and core to ride him from your place on your back. A few more sharp inhales, pressure mounting to a daunting peak before you could make that string snap. It took a frenzied self fucking with Alastor’s now oversensitive cock but you managed to find some relief with a small orgasm.

Alastor didn’t need you to announce it for him to understand. A modest wave of embarrassment hit, not only was he woefully incorrect but the pleasure was apparently so great you’d chase more friction to reach your orgasm on a cock before just taking your own hand. Was it impolite to not have offered to help?

Your body went slack, muscles disengaging as your sweaty thighs and ass slid from his lap and down his legs. He was still bent over you and cock buried half in you, catching his breath.

“I suppose I should eat crow now. Your little flower is far more accommodating than I gave you credit for!” He pulled out in one go and you felt the rush of his seed spilling out after him. “Though you must admit there was a little discomfort.”

With a heavy sigh you nodded, “Sometimes a little bit makes it feel even better…” a swoosh and a twinkle was heard just past your knees but you didn't move to open your eyes.

A clawed finger booped your nose, “If you value your afterlife…”

A sharp stare to the fully dressed and unsticky radio demon knelt between your legs, you rolled your eyes at the empty threat he always gave you after your unfettered talks, “I won't tell a soul.”

“Good girl!”

*a rake is a rakehell (hell raiser), considered loose with morals for chasing women and drink.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[alchemist-of-life]

I’m curious how binary cant work for admech since day 1. At first, I thought it’s just high speed alternation in frequencies of sounds to denote 0 and 1, just like how computer cable does with voltage. So I wrote a python script to convert natural language to binary code then to sound based on the idea (so that I can curse in binary in ttrpg). However, since the human auditory cortex can only distinguish sound about 20ms apart, the current commonly used binary coding method (Unicode) that requires 8 bits to encode for one letter (16 bits for one character in Mandarin) would make binary cant less efficient than natural language through the bare ear. As a result, binary cant users not only need vocal implants but also auditory implants to receive info (or perhaps cortex implants to decode). Based on these assumptions, binary cant would be able to happen in sound frequencies not perceivable by the original human cochlea so techpriests conversation can be extremely quiet. And more efficiently, just through data cables.

Or it could be the other way around, scientists might develop more efficient binary language without basing it on the symbol system of natural languages (I’m not that familiar with linguistics so I don’t know if this is possible or not).

However, the sound techpriests made in the game mechanicus doesn’t sound like my assumption. There are definitely more than 2 pitches used in the conversations (which makes it less binary...) and they seem to be faster than natural language. I still couldn’t figure out what’s happening here. Do the twisting pitches actually encode more than one bit? Is binary cant actually an analog signal encoding a digital signal? Or is the sound effect just mean to sound better for the game?

The binary curse program (turn the sound on!):

[mylasteverlution]

Disco Elysium has a lot of fascinating fictional technology but I have been rotating the radiocomputer in my mind for months now. From what I can gather, they operate in a way very similar to modern cloud computing. It doesn't seem like the mainframes we interact with have any processing capability. Instead, they use antennas to process "on air":

SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - "Alright, well... All radiocomputers perform operations up on air, so in order to gain more processing power you need to invest in a *good antenna*."

The only information we get about what "on air" really means is from the same conversation with Soona:

YOU - "Wait, what's 'on air'?" SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - "On the *front*. The unified front of radiowaves, licensed and controlled by Lintel in the East-Insulindic region." SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - "It's all around us," she waves her hand, "that's what 'on air' means."

The nonspecific language used here really invokes cloud computing to me. I think there are two main possibilities for how this could work, one being much more likely than the other.

The more likely answer is that information is sent to and from the in-game equivalent of data centers, which would host massive computers with processing capabilities. I'm not sure what their processors would look like, but they'd almost certainly be analog (the lost Feld tape computers are most likely the in-game equivalent of early digital computers).

The significantly less likely (but more interesting) answer is that in-game radio waves are somehow capable of processing information on their own. I have no idea how this would work, and as far as I know there's no real-world analog. But it's clear the world of Disco Elysium has some crazy things happening with radio waves (see how they interact with the pale), so I'm not ruling it out entirely.

The filament memories are like hard drives, but my guess is they would function more similarly to an optical disc (CDs, DVDs), which use patterns in the disc to encode information that's read using lasers or light. The filaments glow inside the mainframe, so it's not a huge leap to assume they're read using light.

The amount of thought put into radiocomputers is so fascinating. As far as I can tell, their version of the internet has been wireless from the get-go, which makes perfect sense! Antennas and other wireless radio technologies would have to be pretty damn powerful to communicate across and force dimensions on the pale. And you have to assume huge amounts of government money has gone into funding their research and development for those purposes. The technology of radiocomputers is so tailored to the world of Disco Elysium, and it's been a lot of fun trying to untangle how exactly they would work.

[disillusioneddanny]

If It Makes You Happy (then why the hell are you so sad?)

Tim took a bite of his ravioli and looked around the table at his family. It was Sunday dinner. A monthly tradition where every member of the family adopted or otherwise came to spend a few hours together. It didn’t matter who was arguing with whom, or how estranged from the family you were at the time. You still had to attend the monthly family dinner. However, there were times when Tim wondered if anyone would notice if he stopped attending. If he no longer came to the dinners where he sat mostly unnoticed by the rest of his family. Where he typically sat in silence, having not uttered a single word throughout the entire event. Would they ever realize he was gone? Did they even realize he was there in the first place? 

A part of Tim truly doubted it, if he was being completely honest with himself. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to share with the family his upcoming exhibit. 

Tim was in his fourth year of college. Where he was getting a degree in Art, Technology, and Culture. It was a major that allowed Tim to immerse himself in photography, video art, creative coding, and so much more. He had gotten to work in traditional analog and digital photography. Played around with film and art in ways he had never thought of before while also learning about cultural theory, the expression of ideas, and cultural practices which gave him the chance to truly discover himself. It was the first time he had ever chosen something for himself. 

His entire life he had been groomed to run a business. To at first take over Drake Industries one day and then later Wayne Enterprises where he was unfortunately CEO. But then he had learned about the ATC program at Gotham University and he had fallen in love with it.  He had always been obsessed with photography and even film later on as he grew older and spent his days alone in dusty old Drake Manor. And he had always loved to learn about cultures, he ate up the stories from his parents and their trips abroad. Had spent countless nights watching the people of Gotham and how they did things, and had absorbed it all like a sponge to make up for the fact that he was just a lonely boy living in a manor by himself. 

Even when he had joined the Bats and had made his tiny little place with them, he still fell back on his love for learning about others and his desire to tell their stories. It had just become an intrinsic part of Timothy Drake. 

And now here he was, slowly creeping to the finish line. He had his senior showcase coming up. A requirement for all students who were receiving a bachelor of fine arts. He was to show off all of his best work from the last four years. It was a chance for him to show everything he had learned, and to display his work with pride. 

He had toyed with the idea of inviting everyone to it. To let them see the love that Tim had cultivated over the last four years. He was set to graduate in just a few months and the pride he felt for himself was tremendous. And if Tim invited the Wayne family to his senior showcase, then maybe they could come to his college graduation and share the achievement with them then too. 

It was a big time in Tim’s life and he wanted to share it with them. 

He listened as a lull came in the conversation and carefully cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the others. 

“I have a senior showcase this weekend for my BFA. It’s at six in the evening in the Wayne Arts Center on Gotham Campus. I would be happy to see you all there,” he said hesitantly, eyes firmly trained on his plate of food. 

“That sounds nice, Tim. I’ll try to be there,” Bruce said politely before going back to his conversation with Jason and Dick. Tim felt eyes on him, though, and slowly looked up to find his little brother giving him a curious look. 

“What?” He asked, still trying to calm his heart just a bit. He still wasn’t sure why he came to these things, why he was even here. Just talking to the Waynes gave him anxiety. Just being here reminded him how much he didn’t belong. How other he was compared to the rest of the kids that Bruce had adopted? 

Damian tilted his head to the side. “I was not aware that you were getting your Bachelor's in Fine Arts. Will you tell me about your degree program? I have been thinking about getting an Art History degree but have been torn between that and a business degree.”

Tim gave him a small smile and rested his chin on his hand as he started to tell Damian all about his degree and how he was enjoying the program at Gotham University. The rest of the family went on to their own conversations while Damian listened with rapt attention to Tim describing the ATC program at Gotham U. 

The rest of the week was a whirlwind as he prepared for his senior showcase, he had sent out invitations to everyone he wanted to come see his work. The Team had already made a reservation to take Tim to lunch before the showcase before helping him get everything ready. And as the day came to be, they had made good on their word, taking him to his favorite Vietnamese restaurant in Gotham before taking him to the gallery. He blushed as he listened to his three best friend gush over his artwork, as they listened to him explain each piece. They asked questions and made remarks about what their favorite pieces were and even tried to buy a few pieces only for Tim to promise to give each of them prints of his photos. 

The three had left with quick goodbyes, each one giving Tim a hug and congratulating him before they made their way from the gallery. The rest of the evening dragged on as people came by and asked Tim about his photos and the small films that played on the movie screen on one wall. He smiled and explained each photo to anyone who asked. He had wanted to showcase his vigilante photos of the bats and birds but it had been too much of a risk to do so. 

Instead he had shown off his photos that showcased all of his favorite parts of Gotham. From the beautiful gothic architecture, the gargoyles that looked out over the city. He showed the photos from the last time Ivy had thrown a fit in Robinson Park and covered the entirety of the grounds with flowers. He showed the pictures of community from Crime Alley and the beauty of the strength of Gothamites who had managed to survive the worst of the worst. 

He also featured pictures of his family, of Dick hanging from a chandelier, of Damian training Titus to do a trick. He had a picture of Bruce, Alfred, and Jason sitting side by side as they each read a different book. One showed Cass as she posed for the camera in her favorite ballet form. They were some of his most treasured memories, there for everyone to see and enjoy. Tucker between the one of Damian and the one of Dick was a photo of Tim. He had taken forever to set up the camera and get the timer right. Alfred had simply chuckled the entire time as he continued to offer to take the picture for Tim but no one was meant to be behind the camera for that picture. It was the only family portrait of his entire family. Cass, Damian, Tim, Dick, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, they all sat smushed into a single couch together, wide smiles and laughs on each of their faces as Tim beamed from the far side, leaning into Alfred’s side. 

The gallery was meant to showcase culture that was important to Tim. To showcase the life that he loved and treasured. And even if he never felt like he quite fit in the Wayne Family, even though he knew that he was the expendable one, the replacement, he still treasured his family. It was why he had invited them, he had wanted them to see just how important they were to Tim. And maybe they would realize he was important to them too.

Only, the rest of the evening seemed to drag on, and not a single person from his family ever stepped through the door. He waited, shoulders tensed and smile polite. Every bit the gentleman that Janet Drake had trained him to be as he stood with his hands clasped in front of him. He kept glancing at the clock, waiting for Bruce or Dick or someone to walk through the doors, to say hello and look at all the work that Tim had put in the last four years in college. The hours ticked by until it was nearing ten pm and the gallery started to clear out, custodians came in and started to clean up around him. 

Tim cast one final look at the doors before he turned to his photos and started to take one off of the wall. 

“Master Timothy! I am so sorry that we are late,” a voice said and Tim quickly to find Alfred and Damian walking through the doors of the gallery. A small smile spread on Tim’s face as Damian bound forward. 

“I apologize,” Damian said softly, staring up at Tim with disgruntled eyes. “I got into an argument with Father and then Titus scared Alfred the Cat and we spent the last three hours searching for that blasted cat and when we realized the time we came straight here,” he said. “What did the others think of your exhibit?”

Tim’s smile fell and he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “They uh, they didn’t show up,” he said quietly. “But if you’d like, you guys are the last ones to show up. I’d love to show you everything.”

Alfred’s face fell at that as he stepped forward and clasped a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “That is their loss, my dear boy. I would love to see your work,” he said. Before he could stop himself, Tim pulled Alfred in for a tight hug, burying his face in the old butler’s chest as he held him close. 

“Thank you,” he whispered before pulling away. He glanced down at Damian and smiled. “How about I show you my work and then if my advisor is still here you can meet her and talk to her about the ATC program.”

The fourteen-year-old nodded his head once. “I would appreciate that,” he said before grabbing Tim’s hand hesitantly. He followed quietly as Tim showed them his pictures of Gotham, explaining the stories behind each one before he showed them his favorite pictures. His pictures of home and both men let out soft gasps as they looked at them. 

“Master Timothy, these are beautiful,” Alfred said, stepping forward to take in the picture of him, Bruce, and Jason. 

“The lighting for this is amazing, I did not know that I even smiled like that,” Damian said softly as he took in the picture of him smiling at Titus. 

“Oh Tim,” Alfred said quietly, losing all strict politeness that Alfred held so dear to his heart as he took in the family portrait. “This is amazing, Timothy. So absolutely perfect. I remember when you took this photograph. It was right after Thanksgiving dinner last year.”

“I was so irritated, Todd had gotten mashed potatoes in my hair,” Damian said with a huff, a small smile tugged on his face. 

“I did not even realize that Master Richard and Master Jason were hugging in this picture,” Alfred said, a soft smile sti on his face as he took in the way Dick had his arms wrapped around Jason’s shoulders, a wide smile on his face as he laughed at something Jason had said. A small smile sat on Jason’s face, his eyes brighter than Tim had seen since the older man had come back from the dead. 

Alfred tore his eyes from the picture. “How much?” he asked. 

Tim blinked. “What?”

“How much for the picture?” Alfred asked him, turning back to the family portrait. 

“For you?” Tim asked, blinking again in surprise. “Free of charge, considering it a thank you for coming to my senior showcase.”

“I would like this one of Titus and me,” Damian piped up. “It would be lovely on my desk in my bedroom.”

Tim sniffed, his chest tightening slightly. “I would be more than happy to give you both the original copies.”

“Timothy,” Alfred said, turning back to Tim, that soft, kind, smile on his face once again. “I am so incredibly proud of you.”

The vigilante’s eyes burned furiously. “I-I thank you,” he said, a soft sob slipped out of his mouth before small arms wrapped around him. Damian hugged him tight, his face pressed against Tim’s chest. 

“I am so sorry that our family forgot to come to your showcase, Timothy,” he said stiffly. “You are incredibly talented and it is their loss for missing out on this.”

Tim pressed a hand to Damian’s back, feeling tears building behind his eyes that threatened to spill over. “Thank you,” he whispered. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he looked around and spotted his advisor. “There’s Professor Maheshawen. She’s my advisor. We can go talk to her and you can ask your questions, okay?”

Damian nodded and pulled away carefully, smoothing down the front of his sweater before he followed after Tim to meet his professor. Leaving Alfred to continue staring at the pictures with a kind smile on his face.

Alfred Pennyworth looked at the smiles on his charges faces and let out a breath. One of these days, Bruce and the others would realize just how important Timothy was to their family, how he was the one who held them all together. He only hoped that they would not realize that lesson too late in life. At the very least, Damian was now starting to understand just how wonderful Timothy Drake was. 

[seikkoi]

ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ | t. stark & s. strange x f!reader

Step one: Work at one of the most successful research laboratories in the country. Step two: Don't fuck it up. Step two and a half: Do not fuck it up.

content/warnings: mildly dubious consent (sooo uncharacteristic of me), degradation, power dynamics, voyeurism, shy reader, org*sm denial, v*ginal fingering word count: 2.6k a/n: im having a small fixation on our favorite witchy doctor dont worry abt it

Shitshitshit!

You chastised yourself mentally over and over again, watching the bright blue numbers tick downwards. It might make sense to get up, scramble across the lab, fling your hand around the incubator and pull the plug. That’s what an amateur would do, but you’re an expert and know that will do fuck all for you now. Then again, an expert would have set the goddamned temperature correctly. 

You’d fallen asleep at your desk–a natural consequence of several late nights collecting data (or drowning in term papers and reports). In your half-awake state, right before your head hits the table, you set the temperature twenty degrees lower than it should be. Dreamland gave no clues to the impending doom awaiting you. Instead, you dreamt of a tropical paradise. Your sunny fantasia was inevitably interrupted by the persistent beep that echoed the labs walls.

The digits keep trickling down, and you rest your head in your heads. All you can do is wait for it to hit zero. Thousands of synthetic cultures–gone. That was two months of work down the drain, and your bosses expected a very long report, printed and neatly stapled by the end of this week. 

You were so fucking fired.

The numbers finally stop, the computer beeping tauntingly as if you needed verbal confirmation on how screwed you were. You could not even begin to imagine how you would explain this. You worked at one of the best laboratories in the world, there wasn’t room for rookies errors here. Especially not when they come from supposed wannabe professionals like you (and cost millions of dollars). Your first week some larger-than-life MIT grad used the wrong inventory system and was gone by noon. You weren’t any better, just some Ph.D candidate trying to boost her resume. 

The computer stops, and in its absence you pick up on the slight tick of the clock on the desk. The red analog reads 9:57 PM. Late, but not too late for your bosses to still be around. You’re nauseous with guilt, but you can’t imagine carrying it through the night, working with nothing through the rest of week just to get canned on Friday.

No, you’d accept your fate now.

If you were lucky, you’d only have to talk to one of them. 

You don’t have a preference for either. Stark had no issue showing dissatisfaction through his words, often sternly and without grace. The good part was that he was the same way with praise, although you rarely managed to earn that. Strange on the other hand was, well, strange. You barely interacted with him, but when you did you always left the conversation not sure if he despised you or merely tolerated your presence. It changed your working attitude from focusing on the science to scrambling for perfection to gain even the faintest ounce of approval. 

Obviously, not well enough if you were making Alaska-sized mistakes like this. Both were equally arrogant (unfortunately, well deserved) and you knew neither of them well enough to plead for your job. 

You make your way down the dim hallway, passing the empty offices and labs. More than one mental pep talk passes through your mind. The end of the hallway held your demise, a cracked open door holding an illuminating light and a pair of voices. 

All you could do was hope they weren’t too harsh.

Beyond the wooden door, you listen to two voices argue indiscriminately. 

“I suppose you think we should just give it away.” one says exasperatedly, and you figure this is Stark by the sarcasm laced in each syllable.

“No,” the other sighs, “but our shareholders will never agree to this price point.”

“The shareholders will agree to whatever we tell them to.”

“You’re right, to a point. Still, we need to be realistic in our expectation of returns.”

“We haven’t done all this work for realism. We did it for profit and you want to sell our hard work to the lowest bidder.”

You tapped your knuckles against the oak door, heart beating in your chest. You went through a couple of opening lines–promises about how this would never happen again and pleas for understanding. Logically, you knew neither were likely to be granted. The voices on the other side grant you entrance that you take nervously. Inside, Stark sits at the large desk in the middle of the room. Strange stands beside him, peering over papers that you presume sparked their conversation. 

At the sight of you, both men seem to soften their hardened expressions. Whatever nonsense flared their words a moment ago is gone, replaced by confusion by their junior researcher at their door this late. Strange glances at the timepiece on his wrist before you can say anything, scoffing and shaking his head. 

“Yes, [y/n]?”

The annoyance drips, clearly not amused by your poorly timed visit. You wring your fingers in front of your body. 

“Firstly, sirs, I want to apologize, there was a mistake with the incubator, and the cultures were destroyed.” 

You wish you sounded more confident, but instead your eyes dart between the men and the floor. Your omission tumbles out in a whiny tone, waiting on every syllable for their faces to turn and tell you how stupid you were and how much you cost them in time and resources. That’s not how it goes, however. 

Stark leans back in the leather desk chair, metal creaking as his arms are crossed in front of his body. He makes an annoyed face, sure, but not the angry scowl you were dreading. 

Strange’s reaction is even more peculiar, chuckling slightly and glancing back at Tony.

“Did the incubator make a mistake, or did you?” he says lightheartedly, a grin stretching on his face, yet the words create a swell in your throat. 

Tony seems to find it amusing as well, watching Strange stalk towards you. He stops in the middle of the office. You’re less than two yards away, trying not to tremble under his gaze. 

“I did, sir, I’m sorry. I’ll gather my things and leave.” you whispered, hanging your head in shame. 

Your feet are on autopilot, turning for the door until Strange speaks again.

“Oh, there’s no need for that.” he chuckles. “Right, Tony?”

You turn back to see him looking towards Stark, who hums in approval. Even more confused, you watch as Strange beckons you closer, and you obey on instinct. 

“I don’t think it’s a good look for a Ph.d candidate to have a termination from such a large company on her record.” Tony coos from his chair.

“No, not at all. That might just tarnish her future.” Strange adds.

Their eyes rake over you. Stephen beckons you forward again, and you comply once more. Clearly, they were mocking you before giving you the boot. The condescending drip in their voices leaves your skin hot with embarrassment.

“We wouldn’t want that for you, sweetheart.” Tony sits up as Strange guides you towards the desk, a large hand resting on your back. 

“I-I don’t understand.” you stammer. 

They both share another laugh at your confusion. Stephen stands behind you once you reach the desk. He nudges you forward until your hips are flush against the edge. There’s still separation, but not enough that you can’t sense his body right behind yours.

“I’m sure a smart girl like you knows how valuable you are to us,” Tony locks eyes with you as Strange twirls your hair in his fingers. The touch shocks you to turn back to him, only for Strange to push you back to face Tony. 

“Everyone makes mistakes, after all.”

Your eyes widen when Stephen presses his body into yours, easily towering over you. Heavy hands trail down your jean-covered hips, hot enough to burn your skin through the denim.

“We’re very understanding, I’m sure we can work something out.” Stephen’s voice purrs in your ear, warm breath tickling your throat.

The glittering look in Stark’s eye is all too familiar, watching Stephen’s hands get acquainted with every inch of your form. You shudder under his touch. The blood in your veins runs cold as you catch a wink between the two men–and suddenly, you understand.

“Wouldn’t want your career to end before it even starts now would we?” Tony taunts. 

Fingers tease along your side. Soon, they work their way under your shirt, grazing the skin of your midriff. 

Any lingering uncertainty is snuffed when Stephen presses further into you. The desk digs into your hips, trapping you between it and the tall doctor. 

“I can’t–we can’t–this isn’t–”

Each attempt at a full sentence fails under Tony's lustful gaze. It’s quite enjoyable watching you fail against Stephen. Recruitment always seemed to be just the prettiest research assistants. Who could blame them for finally getting an opportunity for a taste? 

Not to mention you did just cost them a small fortune with your little mistake. Contrary to your beliefs, though, they liked your work ethic (and you, for that matter). Letting go of such a helpful piece of eye candy simply wouldn’t do. That doesn’t mean that kindness is a guarantee. 

“No?” Tony hums. “Well, we could always let you go. We can give a shining recommendation, of course having to mention your little incompetencies.” 

Being blacklisted would kill you. All you wanted was to work in this field. Years of late nights and term papers down the drain was a far greater loss than a few synthetic cultures. 

“Please, you don’t have to do that.” you plead. Behind you, Strange’s beard scratches your throat. His hands travel further north, dancing on the hem of your bra. Goosebumps spread across your skin.

“Like I said, I’m sure we can all come to some sort of compromise.” Stephen’s voice drops low and heavy, enveloping on your covered breasts in his right hand. He squeezes gently, tweaking your nipple through the padded fabric.

“W-what if someone finds out–please, just–”

“Oh, don’t you worry, honey. We know how to be discreet.” Tony smirks.

Your eyes can never seem to leave Tony’s, watching his smile grow as your arousal does. It’s against your doing. Stephen completely surrounds you, touching any part of you he could reach. You gasp when the doctor’s idle hand finds your other nipple, rocking himself into you as you squirm. 

“I think she wants to keep her job, don’t you, honey?” Stephen chimes in.

You nod nervously. If this would save your career, so be it. People have slept with their bosses for less, right? And you certainly weren’t blind, both men were attractive in their own rights, able to pander through a catalog of women much smarter and much more their style. It begs the question why they were doing this all–crossing such a boundary with a goddamned graduate student. 

“Oh no, honey, we’ll need to hear you say it.” 

You barely blink, nor breath, all brain power zeroing in on Strange’s heat pressed into you. Tony raises an impatient eyebrow and you manage to answer out of the need to appease him and keep your job. 

“Yes, I’ll do whatever you want.”

The second the words leave you, Stephen’s hand disappears from your shirt to push you over the desk. You would’ve face planted straight into it had his palms not wrapped tightly around each of your wrists, yanking your arms. You try to sit up, uncomfortably pressed between Stephen Itchy wool suit pants and the wooden desk. Tony gleams down at you as the doctor keeps a firm hand splayed across your back, his right hand reaching around for the zipper of your jeans. 

In the next moment, you feel cool air bend around your bare legs. Before you can have anything even remotely resembling second thoughts, your lace panties are quickly pulled to your ankles as well. Warmth flushes across your cheeks, feeling Stephen’s hungry eyes and fingers on your exposed cunt–all while Tony’s eyes stay locked onto you, smile growing wider as your shame does. 

That became harder the second rough hands grab the supple flesh of your ass before a teasing finger slid across wet folds. You squirmed against Stephen’s hold on your wrists, trying desperately to look anywhere but at your boss as you bit back a soft gasp.

“I think our pretty little assistant is feeling a bit shy, Stephen.” Tony declares, reaching out to caress the side of your face not pressed into the surface. It sends butterflies up your spine at how gently he draws tight circles on the skin of your cheek, humming in satisfaction from how roughly Stephen roams over your body.

“Tsk, I hardly believe that, as wet as she is right now.” he murmurs, distracted by the mess you wish you weren’t making. 

You kept your lips pierced tightly between your teeth, lids squeezing shut when a long digit pushes into your aching walls. A deep groan from Strange echoes behind you. You hardly had time to eat, let alone maintain a social life. This meant it had been almost months since you’d slept with anyone–leaving needy and aching from the simplest touch. Even if it was your boss. 

You instinctively try to pull forward when a second finger is roughly added, and this time you can’t stop the whimper as you stretch around him.

“There it is–feels good doesn’t it? Don’t be shy, honey.” Tony’s voice sounds like smolding ice, freezing your nerves and setting your skin on fire. 

You almost hate yourself for how good this feels, Stephen pistoning in and out of your cunt until the sounds of your arousal against his fingers flood the office walls. All while Tony strokes your face like you're made of fine china. It’s far more than your body can handle, stomach already tightening with each pulse of the doctor’s fingers. 

“Go ahead, hon’, tell us how much you like it.”

Your face warms. From his touch or embarrassment, you’re not sure. You stammer under the heat, trying to look anywhere but Tony’s piercing eyes. 

Stephen’s hand comes down strong on your exposed ass, earning a loud cry from you as you strain against his hold. It shouldn’t make your head spin as much as it does.

“That wasn’t a request, answer him.” the doctor commands, gripping your wrists even tighter. When you take a second too long to muster a response, another strike falls on your opposite cheek. Your nerves are nearly disintegrated, still relishing good his finger feel stretching your cunt.

“It–it’s good, it feels–” you cry out once more when he spanks you again, taunting you for being too quiet. 

“It feels really good, sir.” you say louder, nearly shouting into the wood as your legs shake. 

Tony laughs above you, only worsening your shame. It’s an easily forgotten feeling–Stephen’s fingers curl inside you, testing each angle until he finds the one that makes you squirm. Soon enough, you forget where you are entirely, barely able to tell where your skin and theirs begin. Your high is far too close to care about the way Tony watches you, or how bruised your wrists will be after Stephen’s done with you. 

Just as your mind starts to split into two, it’s quickly interrupted. Stephen withdraws from your soaking cunt, leaning over you to press you impossibly further into the desk, unbuckling the leather belt at his waist. You jerk your head up at the ache between your legs, meeting Tony’s devilish smirk. Warm lips grace your ear, chuckling at your needy panting. 

“Aw, poor thing. Don’t think we’d let you off that easy–you’ll need to earn it.” Stephen whispers.  

As he sinks into you, you get the feeling this mistake will take quite some time to pay back. 

[alcrego]

Hi, I've been following you for a while now and just want to say I'm sad to see so many people speaking before they know what they are talking about and unjustly attacking you and the validity of your art (as if their opinion even matters to what you will choose to do?). I also don't like the purely internet-trained AI generated art I see more and more of, but I just ignore it. I have never used the technologies firsthand but I think it should be pretty obvious what you are doing is not in the same category or even context to that stuff at all. I think the best analogy I saw you make was saying "should I also not use a camera [or other technological tools]? It reminded me of how the electric guitar and digital music of any form was looked down on for not being "true art" either. Canvas stretched on a frame, paints and brushes etc are all technological tools and were all new at some point in history as well. I enjoy your art and how you use the computer itself to take your art to new levels. Some of the best modern musicians (imho) understand that the medium and the machines they use to record to that medium are like another member of the band itself and they embrace this and cognitively, purposefully utilize it to further their creativity. I think you are doing a very similar thing with visual art (and music) and just wanted to say I have been enjoying your stuff on here for months now. Don't listen to the haters. :)

Deep gratitude for those who can see and understand further than the noise... Truly! 🙏🥹

And the same here, I neither like the internet-trained AI generated images (I wouldn't even call it art), but in the same way I don't like the 'artists' that steal and copy styles of other artists (as it's happening to me since more than a decade ago), but this is ok, no?🥹👍

People should start to understand that for some (most) AIs are a way to obtain an image, but for few others is a tool to create our own resources/ingredients that later we mix/cook/modify to achieve our own ideas, in the same way we ALWAYS used images from the web, magazines, ads, street, etc... to achieve our ideas.

Thanks a lot for these words, and don't worry, it's funny for me to 'listen haters' bc they NEVER had idea about what they talk about. Those who know what is this about can have a respectful, deep and meaningful conversation, and despite sometimes I don't agree, I totally can speak with them.

Big thanks!!

[gendertrickster]

i was thinking earlier about how fascinatingly the sburban alchemy process analogues itself to the conversion of a string of digital data (captchalogue codes) into analog output (physical items) in such a way that multiple inputs can influence each other. i'm also thinking about how rose had to stumble her way through like three different metaphors to explain it, because she's a writer, whereas john just got straight down to using discrete mathematics/compsci terminology having dinged it for exactly what it was, because he's a nerd

[nenynrawrites]

Def Leppard members as your boyfriend

Joe:

There's so much yet so little I know about him as a boyfriend / partner

But I know he'd be very doting

Like, as soon as you tell about anything that you're hyperfixating on, he will learn everything about it

Loves fangirl Fridays, where the both of you watch a bunch of interviews (old & new) on YouTube, or back then, on VHS, 'cause you always recorded at least one or two

He's fangirling about Ian Hunter obviously (it's so funny to me, but all hail the fangirls and fanboys♡)

One time you were hyperfixating on Sav, and therefor your attention was put a little bit more towards him

Poor Joe got a bit jealous, 'cause it was his best friend, but eh, he wasn't better, and it was harmless, so it's good, right?;3

Listens to you like there was nothing else going on

HUGS, HUGS, HUGS

Hugs from behind, quick side hug, hugs during cuddling...All the hugs!!💕🫂

Kisses range from every possible kind there is

Loves deep and long kisses, the ones where you basically lose your breath

You're kind of his personal heater / cooler when you're cuddling

Clings like a koala to you

Furthermore, very loyal and loves to have you on tour, but not too long, so that you won't get sick of it:)

Loves to call you ,,love" or ,,babe", or any other nickname you like, like childhood nicknames:)

Sav:

He always looks so slightly confused to me, omg-

Like, it took him so long to realize, that you two were a couple

It were two weeks, but it still felt like an eternity, like forever

Definitely teaches you bass (you gotta know where the rhythm comes from;3)

Will introduce you to the big and wide world of fashion

Will get you a custom suit (or dress...Or both):>

Breakfast in bed whenever he can:3

Cuddles EVERY night, even on call (no matter analog or digital)

Loves deep conversations about anything

Rick:

He is such a sweetheart

Won't stop looking at you when you two hang out

Like...He's so enamored, his eyes literally formed to hearts♡

ATTENTIVE!!!

Loves driving out somewhere:]

Asks everybody what he should get you for special occasions, despite knowing you in and out🤭

Loves telling you about the random stuff he saw on walks

I wanna squish his cheeks:3

Phil:

Active boy

Be prepared to always go anywhere with a bike if possible

He probably tries to swim so so far

But! If you wanna have a lazy day a few days in a row, he's not opposed to that

From reading his book, Phil is a deeper thinker than you might imagine, so lots of talking about his philosophy of life and how the world works. He genuinely believes you are soulmates. He cooks you vegan food, and takes you to the gym, whether you want to or not! Very keen on, ahem, bedroom activities, and probably pretty good at it after all that practice lol <- @steveinscarlet

(Somebody help me, I don't know what to add-)

Steve:

Do I have to say it?

I'll just say it again

BIGGEST👏SWEETHEART👏EVER❤️

Like, he's so fun to be around, talk to etc. etc...

Kisses all the time

Late night talks until dawn

Love making? Yes sir:)

The softest hugs known to mankind

Steve is super-shy, so you probably had to make the first move, or be so painfully obvious that even he couldn't fail to notice that you like him. Talks to you in funny voices and probably has a silly pet name for you which makes the other guys make vomiting noises when they hear him use it. He alternates between being really loved up and soppy, and needing reassurance that you really do love him. Buys you classy presents like jewellery and fancy perfume. You steal each other's clothes and eat from each other's plates. He tells you you're beautiful even when you have a spot the size of mount Vesuvius on your chin! <- @steveinscarlet

(Feel free to add, I'll add them:))

Vivian:

The first thing I thought about was Stu

He always had a little companion with him, wherever he would go (if he could take it with him, that is)

Absolutely loves playing your favourite songs on an acoustic, especially fast ones, 'cause they sometimes sound weird (he does it on purpose, 'cause it makes you laugh)

Lets you do his hair:)

Shy boy:>

Loves cuddling up in the middle of whatever you or he were doing

Forehead kisses

(Feel free to add!)

[becauseimanicequeen]

Clocks, Watches, and Time in 4 Minutes

We're halfway into 4 Minutes and I thought I would write a bit about the different ways they use clocks, watches, and time in the show (so far).

I've already written about time a lot in my timelines post, but I just can't seem to stop thinking about this, so here I am... Again.

We all know time matters in this show. What I love about it, though, is the attention to detail. Because the details matter. They're being super intentional with them.

Don't believe me? Then let me show you.

When Great picks up Korn's phone at the bar and tries to open it (in ep 4), it says 09:10 pm:

But, the small clock at the top left on Korn's phone says 11:02 when Great snoops through it:

That's just Great continuing to see this anomaly when he's alone (it also tells us he's still at his 11:02 stage in this episode).

But then, when he sends the text about Nan's location to his own phone, Korn's phone still says 11:02 at the top:

But the text Great just sent to his own phone was sent at 09:12 pm because the phone knows what time it is even if Great can't see it:

See?

It's about the details of this show!

All the clocks and watches matter in 4 Minutes, not just the obvious or big ass ones they focus on to capture our attention. All the clocks/watches matter because they're intentionally set by the crew (I'm a thousand percent sure about this).

Now, let's look at some different ways they use time in the show.

So far (in chronological order), we've seen time used for showing:

Cold openings

Great's time anomaly (11:00-11:02 so far)

Great's 4-minute phenomenon (which Den calls it in his research)

Different timelines/realities in scenes that follow each other chronologically

Digital vs analog clocks/watches

Differences in 24-hour and 12-hour settings on digital clocks

The 4-minute time limit

Different timelines/realities in the same scene

Let's go through these one by one and hope that I can work within the image limit (seriously tumblr, I need more than 30 images per post, lol).

Cold Openings

The first two episodes open with events that happen outside the events of the rest of their episodes.

The first episode starts with Tyme getting shot and a patient in the ICU having a cardiac arrest (whom I, and many others, believe to be Great).

The second episode opens with Tonkla beating the shit out of someone with a rock.

Both these openings are isolated events that aren't connected to any of the bigger timelines or other events, yet.

Great's Time Anomaly

This is every time he sees 11:00-11:02 (which is as far as the clock has come at this point).

It started at 11:00 in the 1st episode:

Then it turned to 11:01 in the 2nd episode:

And 11:02 as Great was watching the clock in the 3rd episode:

So far, he's still at his 11:02 stage (which we saw on Korn's phone in the 4th episode). But I think the ominous ticking will continue in the next episode (or the 6th episode at the very latest).

Great's 4-Minute Phenomenon

Great has had 6 4-minute phenomenons (4MP) so far:

Hitting Manee (ep 1)

Bumping into Tyme at the hospital (ep 1)

Seeing Title beat the shit out of Dome (ep 2)

When he had a conversation with Tyme at Uni (ep 3)

His and Tyme's argument at the hospital (ep 4)

Seeing Samarn shoot Nan (ep 4)

The first 4 in the list above include clocks to show that Great is jumping back 4 minutes (I will only show 2 of them because I need to save images, lol).

When he arrives at the hospital in the 1st episode:

After he's bumped into Tyme:

After he's sent back:

When he walks away from Tyme after their conversation at Uni:

After he's been sent back:

The last two in the list above don't include clocks at all, probably because Great (and we as viewers) know what's going on when he has his 4MPs in the 4th episode. We don't need it explained again.

Different Timelines/Realities in Scenes that Follow Each Other Chronologically

I've written about this already in my timelines post, but I will summarize it here.

Chronologically, the scene where Korn is with Tonkla in the 1st episode is followed by the family dinner, which is followed by Korn dropping Great off at home.

Interestingly enough, Korn arrives at Tonkla's place at 07:15-ish pm:

Tonkla wants a second round at 08:55 pm, just as Korn's dad calls and wants Korn home for dinner:

Then, when Korn drops Great off at his condo after dinner, Korn's watch says 07:15-ish:

While the clock on Great's phone says 07:13:

This is all meant to be the same day Great hit Manee. Everyone (Great, Korn, their dad, and Great's mom) is wearing the same clothes throughout these scenes that happen on the same day. Yet, the times are different.

(Technically, Korn drops Great off at the same time as he arrives at Tonkla's place, which is super interesting.)

Digital vs Analog Clocks/Watches

I've already gathered the digital and analog clocks/watches from the first 2 episodes in a separate post (including the ones we've seen in the teaser and trailer).

I won't add images of them here (since I need to save images for the rest of the post, lol), but you can see them throughout this post.

Both digital and analog clocks/watches have a prominent place in the show, even though the digital clocks are more obvious and attention-grabbing.

I haven't yet figured out if there's a pattern behind the use of either in certain scenes or situations. Analog watches can obviously be a luxury item, so Great and Korn's watches are more than likely used for that reason as well. But other than that...

Great use and is surrounded by both digital and analog clocks and watches. Korn always wears analog clocks, but his times are shown on his phone as well. I'm pretty sure Tyme's watch is a digital one. The clocks at the hospital are digital (I can't remember if I've seen an analog clock there). Yet, the staff at the hospital have a mix of digital and analog watches.

So... I don't know. But at least they show a variety of clocks so it doesn't get boring, lol.

Differences in 24-hour and 12-Hour Settings on Digital Clocks

I've written about this already in my timelines post, but I will summarize it here.

The hospital seems to have a 24-hour setting in some cases, as we saw from the image of the clock on the front desk saying 13:10 when Great arrived (image above), but not in other cases even though this is in the evening:

Since it's the same hospital, I would find it strange if the clocks had different settings (or perhaps that's just me, lol). Perhaps, then, this is a way to show different timelines/realities (since Manee is, more than likely, dead in the real timeline/reality).

Interestingly, Great seems to have both settings on his phone as well (or, the phone is showing the time as 12 hours wrong).

The clock on his phone, when Korn drops him off after their family dinner (image above), says 07:13 while his phone at the hospital shows 13:14 (image above) and 16:33 and 16:29 when having his conversation with Tyme at Uni (images above).

His phone is clearly set on a 24-hour setting, yet, it says 07:13 at night? Obviously, he could've changed the setting after that night. But it could also indicate that different timelines/realities are present.

The 4-Minute Time Limit

This showed up in the 3rd episode in a vision Great had of himself and a mystery woman (who we now know is Lukwa) in a gallery:

It also shows up in the 4th episode as Lukwa talks to Den about this gallery and the mystery man (who we know is Great):

And we learned (even though most of us knew it already) that this is the limit of time a brain can survive without oxygen.

Different Timelines/Realities in the Same Scene

The clocks/watches were screaming at me in the 4th episode, to a point where I couldn't ignore them even if I wanted to (which I didn't). I've written about this in my timelines post already, but I'll summarize my thoughts about it here.

Korn and Great were in different times in the scene are the bar. Korn started the scene at 06:50 pm:

While Great's watch showed 03:20-ish when he arrived at the bar (after my ramble in my timelines post about this, I thought it was most logical if this was am for Great considering the scenes that follow):

Great's time is consistent to him as it turns to 03:50-ish while they're still in the middle of drinking:

While Korn's time stays consistent with him, which could be seen when Great grabbed Korns phone and it showed 09:10 pm when he tried to open it (image above).

It's also interesting to note that, if we follow Great's time from the bar, then he's kissing Tyme in the tent at 02:00 pm:

This would mean that Korn's time, at this point, is 05:40 am, which (according to my calculations in my timelines post) is the same time Great ditches Korn at the bar to go save Nan.

(This could mean that everything that happened in Great's timeline/reality after he left the bar didn't happen in Korn's.)

Anyway...

Korn and Great exist in completely different times/realities even though they're in the same scene together. And I absolutely loved that detail with those clocks/watches. That whole bar scene was heaven for my brain.

Things are definitely changing when it comes to timelines/realities in the show, and I'm on the edge of my seat with every new episode.

I can't wait to see what time-fuckery we'll get in the next one.

Is it Friday, yet?

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

With regard to donating to fund-raisers and the analogy to panhandlers, what do you make of the difference in scale that the internet makes possible? I absolutely agree with the underlying approach — I keep $40 in my wallet so that I always have a $20 to give to panhandlers I see — but there's a limit to how many dishonest panhandlers a person is likely to run into. Internet spam and scams are of a staggeringly larger scale; for example, the head of trust and safety for Dreamwidth has put the scale of these scam networks in the millions of accounts. Obviously vetting practises help a great deal, and I think initiatives like Crips For ESims For Gaza are great, but I'm a little bit hung up on the analogy to in-person panhandling when the scale is so different.

Disclaimer: my tone may sound harsh here, I am having trouble softening my words one this right now, but I truly mean no frustration towards you and really appreciate this question as an opportunity continue this conversation in the Commons constructively

I mean. Make a budget for it?

Like. I've said this before, but given I've decided to hunker down in this foxhole, let's do it again.

All my life I've had a panhandling budget because I came from a family where you simply didn't say no to such requests if you didn't have to. But much like the tired old analogy at this point, you can't help someone else put on an oxygen mask if you've passed out because you don't have enough oxygen yourself.

So my mom told me this was one of those places in life you set a boundary with yourself. Identify how much you can actually safely reliably spend towards financial redistribution, and set it aside in cash each pay period to give out.

My mom's approach was very first come, first served. Whoever asked her, she handed out all her cash. I found that when I was trying to create a similar routine for myself that this led to a constant exposure to people I couldn't serve at all. So I created "allotments". It became my routine to take out a $20 bill at my bank every pay period, and then have the teller give it to me in $5 bills. The first 4 people I met who asked for it got a fiver.

Then came the digital age. Cash wasn't the main way people asked for money anymore, and my fivers were simultaneously going farther and going nowhere at all for weeks on end, especially during the pandemic when I became largely housebound.

These days, I keep $10 cash in 2 fivers, and each pay period I restock it if it's been depleted, and add $10 to a digital distribution fund (I use money transfer apps like venmo, paypal, and cash app for parking this money until expenditure). My allotment is still the same, $5/ask. During low-density ask periods, I will donate my "excess" at the end of a 3month period to a bail fund or prison penpal program, and if there IS no excess, it's because I was able to distribute the funds myself.

They're not big donations, but a lot of the time I've been able to make them recurring. Obviously, genocide upon genocide upon pandemic upon genocide has meant that I rarely have excesses, and many asks have to go unanswered by me. At least if I want to keep my own household alive and well. And I've been told in the past that some even prefer getting my repeat small petty cash funds over getting larger one time donations.

It's still hard to be constantly exposed to desperate asks you can't answer, but when you treat it like a sustainability thing (this is a thing I can continue doing indefinitely vs this is a thing I can only sometimes do without hurting myself).

Like any budget, sometimes things get tight. Mine has been bigger and smaller at times and there have even been deeply painful periods where my budget was, legitimately, $0. But once that changed, I was right back to it.

The more the world changes, the more it stays the same I guess

[ptseti]

Jesse Russell: The Hidden Architect of the Cell Phone Revolution When we talk about game-changers in technology, names like Steve Jobs and Bill Gates dominate the conversation. But one name that deserves recognition is Jesse Russell, a pioneering engineer whose innovations laid the foundation for the modern cell phone. Born in Nashville in 1948, Russell’s brilliance took him from Tennessee State University to AT&T Bell Labs, where he became the first African American Director of AT&T’s Cellular Telecommunication Lab. His groundbreaking work led to the development of the first digital cellular base station, a critical advancement that made wireless communication more efficient and accessible. Before Russell, mobile networks relied on bulky analog systems with limited capacity. His innovations in digital cellular technology revolutionized mobile communication, allowing for the widespread adoption of cell phones we rely on today. Despite his monumental contributions, Russell’s name is often left out of tech history. His work didn’t just change the telecom industry—it changed how we connect with the world. So next time you make a call or send a text, remember the unsung innovator who helped make it possible. Jesse Russell isn’t just a name in history—he’s a legacy in every pocket.

[maestro04yayyy]

maestro04yayyy, maestro04yayyy I need, I need to tell you something, cos a Chloleka thought just burned itself into my skull and I have to share it , please forgive the ramble but like!

The time time Juleka officially declares CHloe is her girlfriend, that they are dating, is right in front of their class, in a public event, when meeting Audrey.

Specifically, its Style Queen day and before the death drama starts, Chloe tries introducing Juleka whom she had managed to get some official modeling shoots for.

Audrey's suitably impressed, not quite "Most exceptionally thing I have ever seen!" impressed, but definitely, "hmm, yes, those were exceptional shots, you have potential" impressed.

However things turn sour the moment Chloe tries to keep particpating in the conversation, because:

"& what do you have to do with her Cloaco, besides sharing I assume an age demographic."

"W- Well I arranged Juleka's shoots?"

"Even a stopped clock is right once a day, digital not analog, why are you bothering her now?"

Juela, having had enough of this, "She's also my girlfriend."

Class (Gasps) Rose (Complicated feelings!)

Audrey just gives her an appraising look before saying, "You can do better."

Choe: I'm trying mommy-

"Hush Clorox, Juleka was it? Don't tether yourself to a sow on pedigree alone," She sends Andre who is approaching a scathing look, "Trust me me on that."

Chloe has to physically stop Juleka from acting up, but the seat drama starts and its all lost in the hubbub.

When Audrey storms off, Chloe races to go after her and like, my mind goes in two directions.

1: She has to pull away from Juleka who is trying to keep her there but its clearly like pulling teeth and motivated by a mixture of, "Got to make mommy happy, & she will destroy Adrien's career over this, ETC."

Juleka doesn't follow, though maybe only cos she's physically stopped, but she is snarling about tearing out the heart of a foul witch.

2: Or, Juleka tells Chloe to stop, as in the firm, clear commands and Chloe does, but tries not to and is just like, clearly struggling, cos she can't do what Juleka says and make mommy happy, but she can't ignore Juleka and-

She kind of nearly starts disintegrating on the spot as she tries to find a solution and is basically half escorted, half carried away by Juleka.

Whatever the case,

Style Queen happens, Chloe manages to reason herself & probably Juleka out of being dusted if she's close by or Juleka had otherwise left the room and wasn't hit.

Adrien's still out of the fight, but Marinette decides with Chat absent she needs fire power as well as stopping power & takes both tiger & bee!

Who ends up with wat how is still up in the air, cos again it could go many ways.

Like, she may still want Bee for Alya, but want to give Juleka the tiger to work out some of her anger. Or she may even be debating Chloe as she'd have adjusted a decent amount of her behavior at this stage, or at least some if Juleka told her to or helped her socialize, but maybe not.

It could go just like canon but two Miraculous boxes are lost, or only one, or Juleka finds one and trans forms to go fuck up Audrey or her office and possessions at a minimum, or Chloe is the one to find it. Or they both find one, possibly knowingly stealing said Miraculous is Juleka was with Chloe but not turned to dust like her.

Its fucked up Chloe's mother killed her, right? Like, she tried to several times & then did. She murdered her daughter.

Or Juleka manages to basically drag Chloe back to her place where one or both of them open Miraculous, hell, Marinette may not even go with the Bee if she thinks the Horse could get the job done!

There's so many options, but yeah, broad strokes, those are some vibes.

Also like, one one hand Juleka declaring Chloe as her girlfriend and in a protective manner, YES, o the other hand, that means the way they became official will always be when Audrey was tearing Chloe down and not a happier moment, NO!

So yeah, feels!

Also Chloe basically disintegrating cos of her ingrained penchant to listen and obey her loved one's to get them to love her lead to some kind of shut down or disassociation cos she can't please two people at once and like, she is such a fucking mess. Like a figurine made of glass with sharpened edges, cutting, difficult to hold, a work of art and exceptional presentation, but oh so breakable.

Ok fist pf all never apologize or asl for forgiveness when rambling!!!!(at least to me).

Second, I love this!!!!!! All of it!!!!!!!

Got that's such a good moment to actually bevome official!!!(well in a story at least, because loke you said that day won't be a happy memory)

Also I literally adore the second option, the one of chloe wanting to please both and just freezing, not knowing what to do and like taking a step forward and then a step back, like a broken toy or robot.

(And yeah juleka is going to murder audrey, or at least her akuma self, and it is very fucked that aidrey killed chloe)

As for the miraculous, yeah you can do so manu things depending on what ypu want to do or tell!!!!! It's amazing!!!!!! The potential is limitles!!!!

[mariacallous]

There were many takeaways from the first debate between Vice President Kamala Harris and former President Donald J. Trump. As a number of expected policy issues dominated the conversation, Harris effectively filled in the blanks for voters on her strategies to fix the economy, restore reproductive rights, and address immigration and border security concerns. Many in the media have commented on her strong performance, but the crowning moment of the night was Taylor Swift’s immediate political endorsement of Kamala Harris. The American pop superstar has not only surpassed other artists in music awards and public reach, but has become one of the most influential figures to young people and others who are equally inspired by her talent and grit.

Many have been waiting for the endorsements of well-known and influential artists like Swift and Beyoncé. My colleague, Darrell West, forecasted that the blessings of these artists could shift the campaign in Harris’ favor. In recent months, Beyoncé has quietly supported the vice president by allowing her music to be played at campaign rallies. And immediately following the debate, Taylor Swift not only endorsed Harris for president, but also signed her lengthy post as “Childless Cat Lady” to mimic Trump’s running mate J.D. Vance’s widely ridiculed reference to women without children.

But within her endorsement, Swift also sent a loud message to Trump, those in Big Tech, and others who willingly use artificial intelligence (AI) to extract, clone, and mimic content and the likenesses of celebrities like her. She shared her own fears about AI after being a recent target of the Trump campaign and vowed to be more vocal in efforts to thwart misinformation—an issue that has continued to fester in the absence of congressional action.

Taylor Swift has been a target of deceptive AI

Swift has not been immune from deceptive AI-generated content. Earlier this year, she was the subject of explicit AI-generated images that were circulated across social media platforms, mainly X (formerly known as Twitter). Those posts received more than 47 million views in less than 24 hours, and that was before the account was suspended and the images were saved to be shared via other channels online. Issues of fake pornography and revenge porn on social media sites have served to embarrass female artists and business leaders. In the case of Swift’s sexually exploitative content, the hashtag #TaylorSwiftAI trended and led to a rush on her behalf for legal removal, which by then was too late, given the propensity of consumers to download objectionable content and share false information with their own networks.

At the heart of the controversy may have been a group of online users who started operating on Telegram, which is now facing legal scrutiny for allegedly facilitating illegal online activities. But what comes through in Swift’s denouncement of AI is that she has had enough of its harmful consequences, especially the disturbing deepfakes which reveal a troubling side of the internet where anyone can create and disseminate nude, pornographic, and photorealistic images or other content of celebrities with commercially available AI software. Some would argue that increased access to commercial technology is good for the public as we seek to make online tools more readily available to everyday people. In my new book, “Digitally Invisible: How the Internet is Creating the New Underclass,” I suggest that the shift from analog to digital services not only enabled disruption, but also enabled other uses of technology—some of which were unforeseen. But just because individuals have access to these potentially harmful tools, people like Swift are not necessarily endorsing bad behaviors.

It was the more recent use of her likeness and image that the Trump campaign shared which sent her over the edge. Various AI-generated images of her and her fans, known as “Swifties,” falsely showed them endorsing Trump for president. Many of these photos, which showed young women in T-shirts displaying a Trump endorsement, started on Truth Social, Trump’s social media platform, and quickly ended up on other platforms. But this type of inappropriate behavior was neither alarming nor unexpected by Trump allies and influencers. These AI-generated images are part of a long list of other AI-powered election disinformation, including a post which depicted Harris on the beach with now-deceased sexual predator Jeffrey Epstein. In the interest of not sharing more false information, I won’t be providing a link to this content.

In her social media post, Swift also made it clear that the deceptive and illegal use of her name and image by the Trump campaign was daunting. She shared on her post that “[i]t really conjured up my fears around AI, and the dangers of spreading misinformation.” She followed this emotion by writing: “[t]he simplest way to combat misinformation is with the truth,” which should prompt urgent actions to tackle this issue.

What Congress and the global public should take away from Taylor Swift

For years, Congress has debated over the most appropriate legislative measures to quell mis- and disinformation. In 2019, Congress introduced the first version of the DEEP FAKES Accountability Act, which was designed to establish criminal penalties for individuals thought to be producing deepfakes and other illegal content without related disclosure or digital watermarking to determine the provenance of content and urged the removal of such content by violators. In 2022, Congress introduced the Educating against Misinformation and Disinformation Act, which proposed a commission to support information and media literacy resources. That same year, the first version of the Algorithmic Accountability Act was introduced, and re-introduced in 2023, to address the impacts of AI systems to bring more transparency to automated systems, as well as improved auditing.

In addition to several other bipartisan bills to address deceptive AI-generated content, in summer 2024, a bill called the Content Origin Protection and Integrity from Edited and Deepfaked Media Act (COPIED ACT) came out of the U.S. Senate to protect a range of creators. The proposed bill would combat harmful deepfakes, for which election manipulation could be considered a use case, and implement federal transparency guidance for making, authenticating, and detecting AI-generated content. The bill is specifically targeted to protect journalists, actors, and artists from AI-driven theft of their creative content.

But given that the presidential election is only two months away, the provision of legal protections is not in the immediate future. Instead, it is highly likely that there will be more, and not less, misinformation created and leveraged to wage character attacks and accelerate voter manipulation. In fact, the web of online misinformation is so strong that Trump’s false reference during the debate to the eating habits of Haitian immigrants in a small Ohio town went viral the minute he shared the conspiracy theory.

In their new book, “Lies that Kill: A Citizen’s Guide to Disinformation,” co-authors Elaine Kamarck and Darrell West propose that everyday people need to better understand these falsehoods to effectively navigate the truth, and the only way that can be done is by educating citizens on what to look for and how to protect themselves. Taylor Swift may have started that process by stirring reactions even among legislators to do something about this growing problem. If her call to action is not enough, her fans will definitely be chiming in next.

[kaylaschaoticrandomness]

TMAGP and MAG 65: Binary

I was re-listening to the Magnus Archives, and was struck by similarities between Binary and the jmj.error. Both cover people trapped in computers. But there are several notable similarities.

1. Obviously, people’s minds/consciousness in computers

2. The wrongness of minds turned digital, and the incapacity to fully function and slaves to the program (or perhaps protocol?)

3. The lack of escape/skip button. In Binary, Tessa says the video of Sergey Ushanka’s “conversion” as it were, followed her until she watched it. The jmj.error doesn’t end until someone lets it play all the way through.

4. And this is relevant, but not fully a connection as it were, the focus in TMA on digital vs analog and the computers age, as well as the tapes and human brain being described as analog. What does this imply about Jon, Martin, and Jonah? And about the fears as a whole?

Basically, long live spooky computer horror, and the mystery of OAIR.