#I'll make an individual post about it to show you closer

[meownotgood]

LOOKUP AKIS LITTLE CINNAMOROLL HAT IS SO CUTE IM GEEKING… i just wanna pinch his cheeks and play w the ears on his hat (and the custom sp card toploader is so pretty it almost reminds me of a wedding decoration or smthn!!)

also all your new aki merch is so delightful and it makes me happy to see all ur little trinkets and such .. do u happen to have an updated pic of the shrine? i just recently got my first aki merch, the banpresto tomonui keychain .. he sits in my bed and then goes everywhere with me :-)

- 🐙

YESSSSSS HE'S THE CUTEST ISN'T HE?! I wasn't sure if the hat would fit but now I'm obsessed... 💓

I'm so glad you like it... unfortunately I haven't updated my shrine yet because I haven't had time 😭 I have to work all the rest of this week boo. I'll for sure post some pics after I'm done reorganizing and decorating!!

[exa-reblogs]

Some identifiers for AI generated fashion images that I've noticed

So, recently and not unexpectedly, I've seen a major uptick in AI generated images showing up in my searches for fashion photos, specifically. I've seen people make posts like this for specific art styles, and for 2D art in general, but I wanted to share some observations I made regarding clothing, fashion, and runways. I've seen a lot of people getting fooled by these, but it seems like for every one person thinking it's real there's about three people informing them that it's AI, fortunately. I'll admit, a lot of them look somewhat believable at first, but once you look closer it becomes apparent that they're off somehow.

To clarify: this is about common inconsistencies I've personally noticed in AI fashion images, so that you can learn where to look for these and similar inconsistencies and avoid sharing AI content by accident.

There's this one "collection" specifically that seems to come up a lot (also, click on all these images in this post to see the details more clearly):

There's more images like this and yes, despite the "houseofai" watermark I still see people asking who the designer is, or saying that they genuinely thought it was real at first. First and foremost: these are all clearly meant to be from the same runway show, right? Then why does each image look like it was taken on a different runway? The lighting and coloring are different in each one, and the middle one has vague red stairs in the background while the other two look like just a plain light-colored runway. This is something you'll obviously only be able to notice in groups of images and not singular ones, but it's a pretty dead giveaway if you see it.

Secondly: AI generated images, as a whole, tend to have this specific kind of super dramatic lighting with very bright, white lights and soft grey shadows. I'm not very knowledgeable about photography, so I can't explain it exactly, but I know it when I see it (and if someone reading this can properly explain it , please do.)

Thirdly: AI generated fashion tends to attempt perfect symmetry, but always fails somehow.

As for the actual outfits: the best that I can describe it is that a lot of the shapes and patterns just don't look like intentional human choices.

What in the hell is that monogram on the upper right supposed to be? It's clearly mimicking a logo of some kind, but it's messy and indecipherable, not actual branding.

The heart motif is clearly the running theme here, but the hearts don't really make sense. Like the main one in two halves across the chest here: why does it have those two notches missing at the bottom that prevent it from coming to a point at the bottom like a heart is supposed to?

The bottom hem is way longer on the left than on the right.

The little shoulder hearts are like, bleeding into the shoulder seams; those lines in the hair look like they're supposed to be headbands, but they disappear at the part with the rest of the hair; the embroidery on the pants isn't in a clear or intentional pattern.

Again, compare the lighting on this one's neck with the lighting on the last one's neck, totally different.

Those pink things on the chest look like they're trying to be hearts, but they're so clearly not actually hearts. If your collection is heart themed, why aren't you using actual hearts?

The quilting effect is uneven and the individual lines don't follow through and finish in the places they should. Look at the upper right sleeve, where the diamonds are misshapen and the diagonal lines are clearly disconnected. On the lower right chest, the lines just disappear. This can't actually with quilted garments IRL because the top layer is literally stitched to the bottom one along those lines with material in between. It can't fuck up like that, especially not a designer garment that costs your monthly rent.

Smooth zipper. Zippers seem to be a common fuck up.

You can't read the text on the hearts. It's nonsense. Nonsense, unreadable text and fucked up hands are the absolutely surefire ways to identify AI art like this. Conveniently, there are no hands in these photos.

What are those embossed shapes on the sleeves? They're not identifiable as anything in particular.

That is not how zippers work.

I suppose that weird folding beneath the hearts is something technically physically possible. But it's much, much more likely that they would create smoother, less ugly seams with less excess fabric.

These generative AI programs don't actually comprehend what they're trying to depict. Thus, they make mistakes like these. Physical inconsistencies that are often totally impossible, but even the possible things are just... stupid choices that an actual designer isn't going to do. Yeah, sure, designs can be weird, asymmetrical, and imperfect on purpose. But it's way, way more likely that this is just an AI.

Experiment: look at these two images of retro-futuristic headpieces/eyewear and determine whether they're real or AI.

Right one is easy, mostly because of the wonky bitch in the back. But some other inconsistencies I specifically wanna note: if the blue goggles color the "model"'s skin, hair, helmet, and the background behind the lenses blue, why doesn't it do the same for the eyes? And also, I've noticed that a lot of these images have trouble properly rendering the corners of the mouth, which is a weird detail but one you won't be able to unsee once you know to look out for it. Yes, there's a dark line where actual human lips meet, often with some subtle divots at the corners, but in the image on the right, it's rendered as a harsh, gaping hole more like something sculpted out of plastic than actual flesh. On the note of imperfect symmetry again: the left lens isn't perfectly round. And finally, this is a really good example of that giveaway lighting I mentioned. I don't know how you would actually achieve that lighting IRL, but it's so, so common in AI images.

The left photo is an actual model in 1967 wearing pieces designed by Pierre Cardin, a designer that the right image is definitely trying to emulate. The model has a look on her face that isn't super duper expressive, but it's still far beyond any of the AI images I've seen. Every AI fashion image I've seen thus far has totally blank-faced, expressionless "models". They might pout slightly, but I haven't seen any with visible teeth. Something tells me the AI would render teeth the same way it renders fingers. The emblem on the hat is actually perfectly symmetrical, and the glasses are clearly asymmetrical as an intentional design choice, not like the shapes are supposed to be the same but got messed up somehow. And she has ten fingers total, five on each hand.

Two more:

These are both AI generated. I'm not gonna lie, i fell for the one on the left at first. The right is easy:

distorted faces

woman in back is being absorbed by the train(?) seat

those middle buttons on the jacket are totally useless

AI Lighting (TM)

But the "models" on the left look very, very convincing, and the lighting doesn't immediately register to me as AI lighting. The only really wonky thing on the faces is the mouth on the left "model". However, there's one dead giveaway: the headphone wires. Why are they different thicknesses? Why does the rightmost wire disappear into the jacket sleeve? Where the fuck does the leftmost wire even go? AI, I've noticed, struggles with thin lines, strings, and strands of things. Like with the quilted jacket above, you can often try and trace a single line, only to find that it drops off, distorts, or disappears. And sure enough, as soon as I noticed something was weird with those wires, I went to the Pinterest profile that posted it and found that they exclusively posted AI content. Speaking of the actual headphones, the leftmost ear cushion is sitting on an angle that doesn't make sense, and the one to the direct right of it is significantly thinner than the other three. Again, subtle failed symmetry.

This is by no means a comprehensive guide, and I encourage anyone seeing this to point out ways they've found to identify AI images like this. These are things I've just been on the lookout for lately. And when in doubt: conduct reverse image searches and try your best to identify solid sources for your images. AI images won't list designers, model names, photographers, stylists, makeup artists, etc., while actual runway and photoshoot images will, because there are human creatives behind them.

[somehow-a-human]

Whose POV is it anyway?

An Introduction

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Cracking down on the storytelling of Good Omens season 2 through the lens of a changing narrator.

If you haven't read this interview with Good Omens cinematographer Gavin Finney, and you're interested in the fantastic dedication and detail that went into this TV show, definitely give it a read. Not only is it lovely, but Neil also posted the article with a caption mentioning that it's got so many secrets in it. Obviously that made me take a closer look.

I have already gone into a fair bit of detail about the different Lens Filters that Finney mentions in the article in a separate post and I will be referring to them quite a bit so if you aren't familiar with them I would suggest reading that first!

This first post is going to cover the basics of changing narrator/POV's and I'll be writing additional posts for separate episodes/minisodes/scenes since there's obviously way too much to cover in a single go. So shall we take our first look?

It's no secret that something's a *bit weird* with season two, and there are SO many theories about it. I love to read speculation, metas, theories, and opinions, it's definitely fun but my personal ideas align more with the idea that we're simply being shown the events of season 2 through the memories of multiple narrators, different POV's, and it slightly skews the story, sometimes within one continuous scene.

I am also a sucker for a good multiple timeline theory but that isn't this post.

Lens Filters

As I stated above, I wrote a post about each of these individual filters earlier. What I didn't go into in that post was speculation about the filters. While I think they're pretty straightforward, especially the filter for hell (Black Pro-Mist ((BPM)), I think the other two have a bit more room for speculation.

Bronze Glimmer Glass

BGG was described by Finney as being used for 'bookshop scenes', but after S2 back numerous times and paying as much attention as I could to the lighting and colouring of the scenes, I think this is generally true but not always true. There are times when bookshop scenes seem to use a different filter, and other locations also seem to be shot with the BGG filter as well. I think BGG aligns with Aziraphale's POV. Or if Not Aziraphale, an outside-of-Crowley narrator? Based on the scenes (which we'll specifically get into in other posts) which BGG seems to be used, context clues, character behavior, etc, I think BGG clues us in that we're seeing, if you will, through Aziraphale's eyes.

Black Diffusion FX

BDFX was described as being used for 'Crowley's present day storyline' and fuck me, that's not ominous or weirdly phrased at all Mr. Finney! This filter definitely aligns with Crowley. Most of the time he's separate from Aziraphale it seems that this is the filter being used, and certain scenes switch filters mid-scene when he begins to go off on snarky Crowley-centric commentary.

Catch-22 & Herzog

The books on Gabriels bookshelf, great books obviously, but I think books that are also meant to give us context about the story. Pride and Prejudice is a love story about making snap judgements on someone's character, and coming to recognize somebody might be good despite their title or appearance. The Crow Road is a story about life, death, love, morality, mystery, and God. 1984 details the tragedy of Julia and Winston's attempt at falling in love while living under in a police state. You see my point?

That's why I wanted to touch a bit more on Catch-22 and Herzog specifically when talking about the possibility of changing narrators/POV's in Good Omens 2.

Catch-22 frequently switches narrator and the events described are often not necessarily sequential. This way you're getting information about previous scenes as the story continues, so while you're reading the book you're forming a more complete image of the events as the story continues from different characters POV's and iterations of the story. Sound relevant?

Herzog is the other book I wanted to talk about. To be fair I haven't read Herzog in full like I have Catch-22 but I pulled out my copy to reference and flip through a bit to remind myself. Herzog unlike Catch-22 doesn't switch narrators but the narration by the main character, Herzog himself, switches between first and third person throughout. When he is narrating through his letters, you get a deeper look at his thought processes and emotions. It also relies on flashbacks to bring context to the life of Herzog.

While these books touch on other elements that are relevant to the Good Omens story, namely Yossarian's relationship and views of God in Catch-22, the way these stories are told intrigued me for this context.

Crowley's Hair

Yeah I'm gonna mention the hair, because I think the hair is linked. Crowley's shorter sideburns, trimmed mutton chops in the 1827 flashback, and shorter Job wig seem to be clearly aligned with the BDFX filter/Crowley's POV as far as I can tell. I don't know if this means it's just another way to denote POV, but it seems way too consistent not to mention it. The longer sideburns, fuller mutton chops, and longer Job wig all match up with Aziraphale's POV or the BGG filter. My thoughts here are that his hair is another hint of who may be relaying the information to us, AKA is it internal or external. I am making my best guesses though and there are still some situations that I feel less sure about. For example, when Aziraphale takes the Bentley to Edinburgh and Crowley is in the Bookshop with Jim his sideburns are long, is it because he's remembering these scenes unreliably? Is Aziraphale imagining the events? Is it because Jim is present? A brief fluttering thought I toy with from time to time is the fact that in the before-the-beginning scene they are long, and what that means in context of the rest of the season.

S2 Promo Posters

Finally this set of season 2 promo posters showing the characters thoughtfully considering scenes in their heads just gives me a lot of these POV vibes.

I'm planning on doing individual posts for specific scenes, episodes, and minisodes that require detailed breakdowns. I'll update this list with links as the posts are finished!

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

POV a Companion to Owls

POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

POV Bodysnatchers & Cosplaying a bookseller

POV 1941

POV The Ball

POV The End?

Whose POV is it Anyway - a Conclusion

[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

Training Part 2

Prompt: Enemies to Lovers type. You and Gibbs never got along, and luckily you never really had to work with each other…until now.

Part 1

It was entirely too early in the morning when you walked through the NCIS squad room with Fornell in front of you.

"Woah. Rough night Agent L/N?" DiNozzo jabbed, instantly pressing all the wrong buttons. You decided to bite your tongue this time and ignore him before seeing an opportunity to get back at him. As he handed some papers to McGee, you swiftly stole his seat and leaned back in it exaggeratively, while sipping on your fresh cup of coffee.

"Ha ha Agent L/N. Now get out of my seat."

"Make me Agent DiNozzo." You stared him down as his colleagues and Fornell watched, wondering what was going to happen next. He chuckled to himself and turned around as Gibbs walked in.

"Gibbs. Tell her to get out of my seat," he practically whined, making you snicker.

"Daddy Gibbs isn't going to help you DiNozzo," you ridiculed, catching the eye of said Agent as he took a seat at his desk. Choosing to give up, DiNozzo went to sit on the edge of Agent Bishop's desk. She didn't look too thrilled about it but didn't say anything.

"So you two interrogated Ramos and got a name, right?" Fornell asked, bringing the conversation to work.

"He's not talking. As soon as we brought up our Petty Officer, he closed up tighter than a clam," McGee answered.

"Let me at him. I'll get him talking," you offered, causing DiNozzo to snort.

"Well if we need you to shoot him, you'll be the first to know," he quipped.

You were about to snap on him but Gibbs saved his ass again by inturrupting.

"Fine. Agent L/N, you're with me. Tobias, Abby will fill you in on evidence findings we collected from the crime scene."

You left DiNozzo's chair and waited as Gibbs grabbed his gun and badge from the desk drawer.

"What about us, boss?" DiNozzo bellyached.

"You keep doing what you were doing DiNozzo. We'll be back."

As you passed the tall Agent, you made sure to give him a small shoulder check, silently laughing to yourself as he made a face. Maybe working with NCIS wasn't so bad. It was definitely entertaining.

- - - -

The drive to the bar you knew Ramos to frequent was quiet as neither one of you had anything to say. You turned the radio on to a pop station but it was shut off by Gibbs, making you huff and send him a glare.

Both you and Gibbs walked into the musty smelling bar and you immediately spotted Ramos sitting at a booth, back to you, drinking a pint of beer.

"What is your plan?" Gibbs asked, stopping you.

"Too do the job that your agents failed to do."

He sighed in annoyance as you led the way, sliding in to take a seat right next to Ramos as Gibbs sat across from him. Before he had a chance to leave, you pulled out your badge and showed him discreetly.

"Hey Ramos. I'm with the FBI and I believe you already know Agent Gibbs."

"I don't know what you plan on asking me that you haven't already. I don't know anything, remember?" he spoke confidently while taking a sip of his drink.

You looked over at Gibbs who just sat there, stoic expression on his face. Scooting in closer to Ramos, you leaned in by his ear as he visibly became uncomfortable.

"Oh I haven't interrogated you yet Ramos. See, Gibbs and his lackeys do it all by the book. Bring you in, sit you down in a room and ask a bunch of questions, then let you go. I prefer the simpler way. You come to this bar every Friday around 5pm, after working at the gas station. You play in their little pool tournament every month, and even have your picture posted up on the wall as champion. No, I'm not going to interrogate you. I'm gonna ask one question and if you cant answer said question, I'm gonna let everyone in this bar know that you're an official informant for the FBI. I could probably bet that there are a few questionable individuals here that would hate to hear that information, don't you think?"

A couple second went by as you waited for him to break. He licked his lips nervously, confidence now completely gone and his eyes looked to Gibbs who just shrugged.

"She doesn't work for me. I can't tell her what to do."

Another few seconds went by and you moved to stand up, but Ramos' hand shot out to stop you.

"Alright, alright. What do you want to know?"

You smirked and gave Agent Gibbs an arrogant wink.

"Tell me everything you know about the death of Petty Officer Killbourne. And please, the more details the better."

- - - -

Once you left the bar and got into the car, Gibbs laid into you.

"That's not the way you should've handled it in there."

"Oh yeah? Because your way was getting us soo far."

"We don't threaten people for answers Agent L/N. You can't be so negligent."

If he thought that was being negligent, he was delusional. You didn't do anything wrong and you actually got a lead on your case, something Gibbs couldn't say the same for himself.

"Negligent?! First of all Gibbs, it wasn't a threat. Second of all, my "negligence" got us a very important lead that will now help us continue our investigation and bring down this asshole. You might not like the way I do things but you're just gonna have to suck it up because I'm here until this is done."

He didn't reply back, but just started the car and drove back to the Navy Yard, you practically jumping out of the car once he parked. In the squad room, you didn't bother waiting for him before debriefing the team on your findings and talking with Fornell about arranging a sting operation. The rest of the day, you stayed as far from the silver haired agent as you could, only giving him one worded answers, if any, when he asked you a question.

He seemed to have the same mindset, acting as if you weren't there, never looking you in the eye, just in your direction. The entire team, including Fornell were uneasy but you weren't backing down.

It wasn't until you found out that Gibbs had his team follow a lead without looping you in that you lost it. The next time you saw him, he was getting into the elevator and you made damn sure to get there before it closed.

He visibly made a face of annoyance once you joined him and the doors shut behind you.

"Why wasn't I or Fornell informed about your team finding another lead?"

"I told Fornell," he answered presumptuously, not looking at you.

"Yeah, after you had McGee and Torres meet with our suspects dealers. Listen, if this is some pissing match to you-

He leaned over, flicking the emergency stop switch, causing the elevator to abruptly stop and closed in on you.

"This is about a dead Marine, Agent L/N. I'm not here to impress anyone, especially the FBI. If you want in on our investigation and leads, than start acting like a Federal Agent and less like an immature probie."

As he had you cornered, you finally saw the look that everyone talked about. The stare that could get even the hardest of criminals spilling the beans. But in that moment, you weren't scared. No, you were turned on.

You glanced away from his burning blue eyes to his lips and back to his eyes.

"And stop doing that," he warned.

"Doing what?"

He took a step closer, successfully trapping you against the wall and leaned in to growl in your ear.

"You know what you're doing Agent. I could feel how needy you were for me in the training room just like how I can feel it now. Do you do this with every agency you work with?"

Your breath got caught in your throat at his words and couldn't help but egg it on. You looked up at him as you let your fingers trail along his beltline, dangerously close to where you really wanted to touch.

"No, just you, funny enough," you whispered.

He reached up and gently grabbed your chin, brushing his thumb across your slightly open bottom lip. Your heart was racing as the tension continued to build.

"This is completely unprofessional," he stated, making you smirk.

"Than do something about it, Agent Gibbs."

He leaned in closer as if to kiss you but stopped and dropped his hand, backing off and flipping the emergency switch back on. You stood up straighter and took a breath, trying not to look like you weren't about to just get fucked in the elevator as Gibbs shifted his stance.

It did nothing to hide the obvious bulge in his pants and you smiled to yourself. Once the elevator doors opened to the Lab floor, you watched as he made a hard left turn for the bathroom as you continued on to Abby.

"Hey Gibbs- Oh, you're not Gibbs," she said, surprised.

"No, but he's right behind me. A little too much coffee I think," you hinted, making her smile.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Well, until he joins us, I'll just go over the new information I gathered about the murder weapon."

You listened to Abby talk and Gibbs joined a few minutes later, standing a bit closer to you than usual.

[zhongrin]

| ◆ ch. vago mundo ⑊ zhongli

--⟢ ii. little dragon, big dragon |   teyvat continues to change, and nobody can stop it. but morax hopes that some things stay unchanged.

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

◇ tags ◇ fluff, rex lapis in the olden days is a (lovable) menace

◇ a/n ◇ everyone shush and hear me out!!!!!!! smol dragon!zhongli draped around your neck and purring like a cat. that's it that's the post.

"is that…"

"that improper animal… this new generation of disciples are just too full of themselves."

"the divine one is just far too lenient… i fear the young ones will continuously abuse their kindness."

rex lapis squints his eyes towards the whispers of the less fortunate souls, inwardly scoffing at the open jealousy in their words. it's your gentle touch that pulls him out of his musings, and he lightly cranes his eyes up to stare at your visage.

"this is quite a commendable feat, rex. to have such precise control over your physique… keep this up and you might even become an archon one day," you chuckle, fingers lightly tracing the small horns on the sides of his compact-sized dragon form.

he's unable to stop the instinctive purrs which are reverberating from the back of his throat, amber eyes closing in bliss as you let him curl even closer around your neck, though he takes extra care so his scales won't hurt you in the process.

"you know, a friend of yours came to find me the other day. guizhong, i think was her name? she told me about your… excursions."

the low purring immediately stops, and you hold back a laugh when you feel the little dragon shift uneasily around you.

"were those glaze lilies you gave me the other day from guizhong's little garden after all, hmm?"

".... maybe."

"oh, rex… you know how much she adores them."

"but you said you liked them the last time she showed you…"

"i do, but that doesn't mean you can filch them off guizhong's garden."

"but- she stole my treasures to give you those earrings last time, so now we're even!"

you had to laugh at that. the petty little squabbles from the younger acolytes are always one of your constant sources of entertainment, and this one is no different. you find the dynamics of this particular group amusing, and you can't deny that you might be a little biased when it comes to them. especially to the little dragon. he's witty and a little cheeky, just like all the hatchlings, but something tells you that he'll grow into an individual to be feared if he gains enough wisdom over the few hundred - or thousand, years.

you can only hope you'll be there to witness it when the time comes.

"i suppose, little wyrmling."

rex huffs, tail flopping back to your shoulder, snuggling closer around your neck.

"you didn't have to do all that, you know. i think they deserve to be angry."

morax shakes his head stubbornly as he closes the door of your bedroom behind the two of you. his hand lands on the small of your back and he leads you further into the room.

"while i have seen you making many mistakes throughout the olden times, i know you will always strive to do what you can to make up for it. i would never wish for dominion, but as long as i walk upon teyvat, there shall be no being who gets away with besmirching your name. and especially not in the nation i've cultivated to honor your very being."

you sigh at his tenacity and turn to face him instead, resting your hands on his chest and giving him your best patient smile. the hard lines on his expression smooth out, and you can feel him relax under your touch. soon enough his own hands fall back onto your waist, this time softly palming the sides of your hips, like a kitten making biscuits.

"though i'm honored, i think it's rather petty of you to go to such lengths when all they did was gossip… people have been working hard to rebuild the houses, right? an earthquake is just going to render their efforts useless…"

"ahem…. i'll admit that it wasn't my intention to react in such an… overly dramatic manner. it is my mistake. i realize now that i should have controlled myself better."

"oh, morax… this childish side of yours truly amuses me sometimes," you giggle when you sighted the reddened tips of his ears and the way he's lightly chewing his bottom lip in guilt.

sometimes you still can't believe that the rex lapis himself could be so… adorable.

"okay, enough of that! creator worship time is over! i want my dearest zhongli now, please?"

he perks up at your wish and you step back to watch him shift into his mortal form. it takes him a short few seconds, but it always fascinates you, the way he manages to do it so elegantly and the magical way his body transforms into a familiar appearance.

slender fingers absent of talons reach out towards you, and you meet him halfway, fingers interlacing as you nuzzle into his chest with a satisfied hum. zhongli's deep chuckle caresses your ears and he maneuvers the both of you towards the nearby armchair. but before he can sit down and pull you on top of him, an idea hits you and you pull away slightly to tug on his clothes.

"can i play with your hair?"

"it would be my pleasure, dear."

with a pleased grin, you grab the various cushions and blankets from the couches nearby, making a small nest-like surface on the floor instead. zhongli sits cross-legged on it as soon as you plop onto the higher chair right behind the small area you've made for him, and your fingers automatically tug off the hairpin that holds his hair down his back. you unconsciously hum a tune of ancient lullabies as you continue on to play with his long strands of brown-gold hair, and the god of contracts lets himself melt onto your hold with a contented sigh.

thousands of years may have passed, and you might have lost the memories of your olden days with him forever.

yet, as you continue to spoil him with your sweet words and comforting presence, he realizes that your love for teyvat, for him, no matter which forms and the identity he takes, has stayed true and strong even without those memories.

and zhongli realizes that it's all he could ever ask for.

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[otaku553]

kk wow you went so much more in depth than i thought but that was awesome. sending another but pls take all the time you need to answer this one.

i don't think i realized you had a colored version of two of them til today because i was going off of the sketches you posted at the start of the month. the one that caught my eye in that and who i have a different perspective of now that i've seen full color is the shortest hero. you mentioned that the clothing didn't come from any one culture, but if you have an answer it would be cool to hear: what's the long cloth hanging off of the waist belt of this hero called? or, if it's part of the belt, what's the name of the full thing?

[ also a more in-universe follow-up: am very curious about the symbols all four have on their clothing and what your thought process was behind each. i'll settle for the shortest hero's butterfly-esque symbol if you just wanna do one (: ]

Thanks for sending another ask!! This is probably going to get quite long again!

So first, to answer the question, there’s actually not a very easy answer for what that long cloth is called! It shows up quite often in fantasy outfits and armor of knights, and you might sometimes find it being called a tabard or a surcoat online. Really though, it’s closer to something called a monastic scapular, which is a western Christian garment that hangs over the shoulders and goes down to the knees.

The tabard is usually some form of light tunic or jacket worn over chainmail and underneath armor, and I think in fantasy armor the stylization of it as longer and thinner towards the bottom eventually turned it into a pretty common thing? But the point is that it’s usually attached to something hanging from the shoulders and not just from the belt. But having something hanging in front of the crotch from the belt does have some precedence in the Roman pteruges, so this might be where that kind of belt fabric came from.

So in the hero of yore designs, the pieces of fabric hanging from the belts aren’t actually very historically accurate, and follow more the trends of fantasy outfit design. But mostly they act as a sort of conisistent point between all the heroes that shows each hero’s insignia. This sort of hanging centerpiece of fabric has been a pretty consistent part of my designs for a really long time, though in my previous Kirby designs this mostly took the form of some part of a double breasted coat, like so:

But yeah! On another note, while the hero of dark’s outfit isn’t based on any specific culture, the hero of soul’s (the butterfly hero) outfit definitely is based on Japanese clothing! The very long sleeves are based on furisode, but there are some liberties I took with the whole design as a whole, I.e. the pants are based on hakama in construction and shape but don’t actually have all the pleats a hakama should, and have added slits for style. You generally also wouldn’t wear hakama with fancy long kimono I think, nor would you use a tasuki with it. Tasuki are generally used to keep the sleeves out of the way while doing activities, while long sleeves are more ceremonial and decorative. I did intentionally keep the sleeves very long on the design, however, for character reasons that I might go more in depth in if I ever make an individual outfit breakdown post.

I’m sorry I didn’t get around to answering about the symbols! I also have a lot of thoughts about them, so I might also make a separate post about that haha

[riddler-green]

Tea for three. Prologue

Summary: You have been a patient/prisoner of Arkham for several months since you were charged with a crime you did not commit. But what happens when you meet Batman's latest enemy? the man of the hour? In which you help Batman on his cases, you're Edward's new favorite person, and Jonathan is part of your past that you want so badly to return to.

Edward Nashton x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader, Jonathan Crane x reader.

A/n: Holaaa everyone! here I am posting another story that I thought of in a sleepless night, I think it's one of my most ambitious fics that I've been planning but that makes it cooler! I should clarify that this fanfic is mixed with the 2022 movie with the Nolan saga (but in such a minuscule way that it's barely imperceivable). I'm back from my vacation so I'll update my other work soon! ♡

I also want to clarify that English is not my first language, so an apologize for the spelling mistakes. ✧˖°. (My English is rusty :´p).

(Also this fanfic is published on AO3) ✿

Warning: Fluff and angst, Obsessive Behavior, Canon Compliant (the flood occurred, sorry) Movie spoiler (Batman 2022) if there is another warning I did not put, please let me know.

Words: 5,400

You stroll as two guards lead you to a room, you don't know where they are taking you but it's not like you could complain either. The guards behind you ignored you all the way chatting with each other as if they were not watching an Arkham patient, they let you into the individual visiting room. Still, you nicknamed it the interrogation room because you only come here when that person requests your presence.

You sit down without a problem in the stiff metal chair, the approving noise of the iron partition sounds throughout the place, and you hear one of the guards closing the door leaving you alone with him.

At first, it was tedious, even traumatic in a way to come to this room to talk to the person who captured you and brought you to Arkham without hesitation. You couldn't refuse to see him, not when the caped man is a colleague of an important commissioner. No matter how many times you told him, how many times you yelled at him that you were innocent, he either didn't believe you or just wouldn't listen. You got tired of telling everyone around you that it wasn't your fault, none of them listened to you.

The metal partition rises completely, and little by little you see the almost imperceptible figure of the knight of the night. He kept silent without sitting down, standing in front of you analyzing you as everyone does nowadays, but you no longer care what he thinks of you, you are practically a hopeless case for him.

"Hello?" your greeting sounded confusing, you were not expecting a visit from him, but you have an idea why he comes to you, on certain occasions he shows you cases of different indoles, also that he has found some clue of the…

"I'm looking for the Riddler" He doesn't greet you and moves closer to the glass that separates them, you can take a better look at him, he's still the same since the last time you saw him, his attire nor his face have changed at all, but you notice something different in his voice, is it tiredness you hear?

"The Riddler?" you look at him unclear as to what he means "Who is that?".

"A serial killer" he informs you, you often hear those terrible words from him, how often does Batman chase killers like that, it's like there's one every week, it's cruel but it's the truth, Gotham is the cradle of evil, hell on earth, some would say.

"And what have I got to do with him?" you ask hesitantly.

Batman leaves a gray folder in the crack that connects the two rooms as if it were a mailbox "I need to know your perspective".

For a moment you thought about rejecting whatever is in that folder, but your curiosity won you over, you slowly grabbed the folder somewhat heavy because of the many sheets stored, on the cover of the folder you can see a CLASSIFIED in capital letters, that fuels your interest even more and you open the folder.

It's a lot to take in at once, you open your eyes from the initial shock, you haven't seen so much blood since your clinical internship days, you close the folder for a few seconds to recover, and you look Batman in the eye with a frown, he didn't even warn you how grotesque the case could be. 

Batman looks back at you completely seriously, he looks immutable and silent. You open the folder again and are greeted by the same disturbing images "Wow, it's something " you comment uneasily.

You see the evidence, black and white photos of the murders stapled to the autopsy reports, it is amazing how this man can have such information. the more time you spend reading the events and the evidence the more disturbed you become. 

Mayor Don Mitchell Jr, mayor of Gotham for several years, you saw him once at a social event done by Gotham University, he was happy and smiling maybe because of the excess alcohol in his veins. but now you look at the crime scene, his face completely wrapped in duct tape.

"No more lies..." you whisper reading the message on the corpse of the mayor, then that was with an already established motive, to give a statement.

On the other hand, Commissioner Savage's body is barely recognizable, the cage on his head says it all.

This is no ordinary killer.

What have you gotten yourself into, batman?

"why are you showing me this?" you manage to ask him even with the murders fresh in your mind, you don't think you will sleep tonight.

The already-seated masked man repeats to you "I need to know your perspective".

"As a patient or as a psychologist?" technically you can no longer practice your career since they took away your degree, but he doesn't correct you, you peruse everything that was offered, the riddles, the pictures of all the letters he has left for Batman, descriptions of the crime scene, write-ups of the witnesses who found the bodies.

"Both" he declares.

The handcuffs on your wrists do not give you much freedom to move your arms but do not prevent you from handling the documents in the folder, if Batman thought this might interest you he was right, for better or worse you did not stop seeing file after file.

"How extravagant," you say your first impressions "Brusque with his victims, he really is angry" You turn the page to see the pictures of his riddles "But he is also ingenious, this is not prepared from one day to another, he has been planning this for a long time, I would say years".

"Angry at who?" the man in front of you asks but you don't answer him instantly, you take your time carefully reading all the research, it's a lot for only one killer and few victims, but it's nothing that can be used to find him.

"With the world" you turn the page to see Commissioner Savage's crime scene photo "The pattern is evident, the mayor...the commissioner...does not kill ordinary civilians." 

"Do you think it's political?".

You barely smile at the mere idea that this is just politics "No, this is too intimate for him, riddles are an essential part of his life that he knows how to use to his advantage...and I only come to one conclusion..." you shut up and rearrange the documents to close the folder. 

"What is it?" batman questions you with intrigue in his voice.

You see him again, he must be desperate somehow to find this Riddler who asks for the opinions of third parties, of "crazy" people like you, something he dislikes, he prefers to work alone, that's his emblem. Deep down it angers you to no end, he hasn't caught your living nightmare and he's already looking for another asshole.

"That" you passed him the folder through the crack in the partition between rooms, and he retrieves it in his hands "Is revenge, Batman, and a very wicked one."

"Give me a diagnosis" he speaks faster, and the anger starts to seep into his face and it satisfies you to sometimes see him like this, frustrated Batman...yeah that's a first.

you smile and relax in your stiff metal seat "You should ask Dr. Crane for that, he's more prepared than I am, don't you think?".

"He refused" You'd know he'd turn it down, he's not like Batman or you, he doesn't even like to play Clue.

"yeah, he doesn't have the hobby of playing detective" you shrug your shoulders "I can't give you a diagnosis because it's little, he has left only what he wants us to know, maybe he includes you in this because he admires you or because he wants to kill you, who knows" you blurt out everything you think without any shame, in your mind you are already putting together a criminal profile with only what he gave you, but you won't tell him that, he doesn't deserve your help.

The masked man's posture tenses and he begins to clench his fists, your smile grows. 

"all that, all those little clues he leaves you make me think this is all a big riddle on his part" You pointed to the folder held by one of his gloved hands.

"I don't think he's going to stop until he sees everyone on his list dead."

What you told him seemed to affect him, because he suddenly gets up and goes to the door without looking at you, and he found no news "I can't waste time" he whispers with disdain, he leaves the room and you stand watching the door where he left.

So it's a riddle against the clock, huh? you think.

The sky in Gotham looks like a landscape worthy to take a picture of, from here you can see the buildings of different heights, the traffic between highways, and the bridges, even if you force your sight you can see people walking.

"Do you like the view?".

You continue to look through the window reinforced with bars and tempered glass, the bars cover part of the landscape but you can still admire the beautiful gray sky full of clouds ready to rain.

"yes..." you say putting your hands between the bars without stopping to think how happy you would be just to be out of this abyss. you didn't appreciate the beauty of the freedom you had before you were here.

"What do you like most about the view?".

You take a few seconds to respond, the handcuffs on your wrists started to itch on your skin, that itch so normalized on your skin that you don't do much to get rid of that itch, you didn't look away from the window, this simple reinforced window brought you comfort for all these months.

"Everything."

"You hear the voice of your therapist repeat your answer and nod, will your cafeteria still be open? The Gotham Library will have finally added new books? the university will have already changed that horrible lamp in one of your favorite classrooms? 

Batman already caught the Riddler?

"What a good answer actually, but I need you to sit down for a further conversation, soon the session will be over" The doctor's professional tone makes you tense up, you feel like you are not talking to a human but to a fucking robot, that's how you have thought them since you were imposed to this therapist.

You listen to what you say and sit in the other chair where you are supposed to be for the whole session, however, Mr. M has let you have the sessions while you watch from the only window, you are grateful for that, even if you didn't like him at all.

"I have been informed about your good behavior this week, if you continue like this you can be given more access through the hospital" Mr.M speaks calmly looking through several documents held by a wooden board.

Fuck you, you thought but didn't tell him, you don't have the luxury of being rude to him. you'll never get the same freedom you got when you were still an average citizen of Gotham and it saddens you, it makes your blood boil to remember every moment of your existence that you're here unjustly.

"Thank you" You speak as little as possible because you know you would break down in tears just remembering that you are another day of your life wasted locked up among so many criminals.

"But" Mr.M stops looking at his documents to turn to look at you "I was also told that you refuse to take your medication, why is that?".

"Why don't I need them" you speak cuttingly again, the itch in your wrists grows and you scratch with your fingernails without realizing it.

"you have to take his medicine...it will make your recovery process more enjoyable" he grabs his tablet with documents and writes again, Mr.M does not scold you but you perceive it like this, you want to go back to your cell, you feel so ashamed that your skin gets hot, how did you come to this? How did you fall so low that you are the one they have to medicate? 

"Fine" you lie to him, you dislike the taste of the medicine they force you to take, you know perfectly well what they prescribe you, you studied for it after all.

But everyone seems to forget that.

Only Batman can recognize your abilities, but he does not help you at all in your case.

And well, you paranoidly believe that Jonathan is only talking to you out of unconscious guilt.

"Okey" Mr. M gives a soft smile "Just one last question before our time is up" he checks the time on his wrist watch "Have you made a new friend? Have you managed to get along with anyone?".

You avoid the gaze of your therapist "No" you denied, another issue you don't want to address, your notorious loneliness in this hospital. If it weren't for your unique best friend who works here, you would be all alone.

"Why?."

You don't answer him, you also question the same thing, you haven't had an interest to socialize with the other patients since you arrived, and there are still things that are not clear to you.

Mr. M sighs dropping his papers in a file cabinet near him "Well, I'll leave it as homework for you to start seeing new people, making a friend sounds excellent."

"I'll try" You don't lie to him.

"Perfect."

It's been a day since Batman visited you and you had your weekly session with Mr.M, you haven't been able to sleep due to the tremendous curiosity of the new assassin the bat is looking for.

Just when you thought nothing could surprise you in this city since your accident, along comes a man with a question mark and puts the whole city in check, that's the city to him, a colossal chessboard, the DPGC, the Gotham elite, the citizens, they are all pieces in the game, and Batman and he are the only players.

Batman said he didn't have time, Does that mean that he has to catch him these days? how curious, with the Joker, it took months to find him, you were only intercepted in a couple of hours, and the Scarecrow...

no, you don't want to think about him.

You get distracted thinking about the Riddler again, you do your daily service arranging books in the small library of Arkham, your safe place where few or no people stop around these parts, here it is not necessary to use your wrist and neck cuffs, but your uniform is still on, and the plastic bracelet with your information identify you as a patient.

You yawn as you place a couple of worn-out books on the shelf, you felt like a bookstore worker, sometimes you usually fantasize that you are one to take away your boredom, but others usually burst your dreamy bubble.

Today, one of the guards decided to turn on the old-fashioned TV set in one of the upper corners of the library, you stand near a bookcase to see what channel they put on this time, usually they only put on the sports channel to watch the game of the moment.

But on this occasion, the guard put on the news channel, and you immediately put down the books you have to accommodate to concentrate on what is shown on TV.

The guard is still standing and so are you, both watching a live breaking news broadcast. The news anchor reports a new Riddler attack.

He bombed a prosecutor at the mayor's funeral.

The guard's face looked more and more frightened, you watched the news with morbid curiosity. Batman's new opponent seems more sadistic than you thought, that detailed report confirmed it.

But seeing their repeated acts on TV was shocking, you even heard the guard who put on the news say in a low voice " We are doomed. "

You silently agree with him, for the first time you are relieved to be locked away from all the chaos going on right now.

You saw how the explosion managed to reach Batman, surprising you as the guard, the man takes off his distinctive security guard hat when he sees the video, on the other hand, you are still stunned, not believing it, somehow you forgot that this man dressed in black and wearing a cape is still a human of flesh and blood, he simply can't die like that, not when he has things to save, people to capture.

He hasn't found your living nightmare yet.

Before you pull your hair out in frustration the news anchor states that Batman is still alive, the guard satisfied by the information puts his cap back on and returns to his guard position which is the entrance to the library.

You are still looking at the report, and suddenly the image of the man who calls himself the Riddler appears. You hadn't seen him in such detail until this moment, the photos in the Batman report were extremely blurry images, but this time he is in HD, he is completely wrapped in green clothes, and the only thing you can see of him, is his eyes. 

His voice is altered but you can notice that venomous tone of his he asked prosecutor Gil Colson some riddles, but in the end, he couldn't answer what Riddler wanted.

You sigh while grab another couple of books and start arranging them one by one. If Batman is still alive it means this isn't over.

"I knew I would find you here".

"It's not like I can go many places" You smile slightly turning to look at the man who spoke to you. 

Jonathan Crane, the living legend of the hospital, with tailored suits, no wrinkles in his coat, and a well-made tie that matches the sweater he wears under his coat. There isn't a single time you haven't seen Jonathan without his perfect appearance but maybe it's just you idealizing as usual. 

Jonathan gives you a polite smile "Right" Just by hearing that you know he won't stay to chat for long, he tends to contradict you most of the time just to annoy you and agree with you when he's busy.

"Are you coming to get a book?" you ask him the first thing that comes to mind.

"No, I wanted to talk to you before I left," he says adjusting his glasses "I'm going away for a couple of weeks to blüdhaven University to give lectures, it will be a simple thing" Your smile doesn't falter, you are touched that he lets you know when he won't be able to see you, and how he manages to keep the conversation so casual. 

As if they were still colleagues.

"Is that so? What will you talk about?".

"Childhood traumas" he reveals looking at you without any shyness, he has a barely perceptible smile but you notice it. 

"why am I not surprised?" you resume your work in arranging books "Although you know how to pick interesting topics, I wish I could attend" You recognize that Jonathan has been too devoted to his work and student life, he is that kind of strict professor who gives his students nightmares from the assignments and exams he gives. His lectures are fascinating, to say the least, you attended many.

"I'll tell you about it when I get back, in the meantime" From inside his suit he pulls out a  flyer in half "It's something extremely summarized but it'll do" You take the piece of paper and stuff it in one of your pockets. It's not the first time Jonathan smuggles things to you, god, you can even be sure he gives you something every time you see each other. 

"Thank you" you thanked looking at his face, he also remains silent looking at you, the eye contact between you is not something out of another world either, on your part, it's a habit that started when you were still studying, you can't help but want to observe everyone around you, analyze them somehow, see their behavior.

Jonathan does the same, but more rigorous and practical, he is direct and not afraid to say it, you see his hair combed to his liking, his glasses clean without any smudge, his eyes examining you. 

You leave your admiring mode when you diverted your gaze a little to the old TV that is still on, the news keeps showing the latest events of the hours, repeating the most recent crime of Riddler.

Your smile dims as you recall the video of the explosion, the prosecutor begging for mercy and the bomb stuck in his chest.

"Did you see what happened at the mayor's funeral?" you whisper to him in a low voice trying not to let anyone hear them, you look with your eyes for the guard on duty but you can't find him, Jonathan must have asked him for some privacy time, at times you forget the influence that the man in front of you has generated with years and effort.

He turns his head for a few seconds watching the news on TV and turns to look at you again with a sensible and neutral face. 

"yes, I saw it, I was there when it happened".

"What?" you utter with surprise "You were there?" there was no sign of a lie on his face to make you think he wasn't telling you the truth.

"Some teachers from the university we went to give condolences when the show happened" Jonathan clarifies simply, you approach him to talk closer, he doesn't seem upset "So it's true? Riddler attacked that prosecutor?".

"He killed him."

You shut up for a moment because of his statement, it's true, Riddler killed him, and almost Batman too.

"And Batman? Did you see him in action?" at this point you sound like first-rate gossip, but still Jonathan answers your questions, but is no longer as pleased doing so, the moment you mention Batman. 

"He arrived when most of the people had already been evacuated."

"Wow" you blurt out surprised, if you didn't know him better you would have been uneasy with his calmness when talking about the experience, he says it without any fear because that's exactly what's so special about Jonathan in your eyes, he's not afraid of anything.   

"Batman looked you up, didn't he?" Jonathan changes the subject quickly and you nod your head, you move away from his side to reach for a cart full of books to be arranged "He wanted my opinion on the riddler, can you believe it?" you laugh "I told him to look you up better, but you turned him down."

"That's right" he assures leaning on one of the bookcases for comfort, he looks at you picking up a book and you place it among several other books on another bookcase "I don't lend myself to that sort of thing".

"I know, killjoy Crane" you scoff boldly.

"Whatever you say" he sighs "I have to go, there will be a meeting at the university" Before you could say goodbye properly, he approaches you to give you an extremely momentary hug, it was so fast that you couldn't return the hug because he had already separated from you. You swore you could smell some of his cologne.

"uh yeah, see ya" You are barely able to utter the words without getting over the small contact they made, he has said goodbye to you like this, but you are still not used to it.

Jonathan smiles at you picking up his briefcase that you didn't see in the first place, walks to one of the tables where the TV control is, picks it up, and turns off the TV "I don't like you watching that" he tells you already heading for the exit where the guard re-enters the library.

You wrinkle your forehead due to irritation. Sometimes you don't understand Jonathan.

You genuinely thought your head was going to explode from the pain. 

Being in Arkham meant being cut off from the outside, you had no idea of the chaos that erupted overnight, the perverse game of Batman and Riddler was so forceful, that Arkham unexpectedly came into the spotlight when the green-masked man was captured. An alert in your head went off when you heard from a very nervous guard. You thought it was almost impossible for Batman to catch Riddler, and that he's here being processed to this hospital gives a lot to suspect.

The report Batman showed you are not wrong, the madman of riddles is too elusive to be caught in such a short time.

Why? You ask yourself, why did he let himself be defeated?

The hospital was in chaos with the arrival of the new patient in the middle of the night, nurses running around, and security guards moving patients to different cells temporarily, you were taken out of your small cell to another one just as small and almost the same.

Even with suspicion in your being, you don't understand what all the fuss was about, not even when they paraded the Joker through the main hall in a straitjacket as if he were a villain from some movie did they get as upset as they are now with Riddler.  

You sat on your new bed just as hard as the one in your previous cell, not wanting to catch the social panic you try to meditate, Mr. M advised you to do so and since then you put it into practice.

Maintaining a state of relaxation is difficult but you have practiced it for months, you started the breathing exercises, and as you slowly inhale and exhale your thoughts begin to melt one after the other, calming you down, and making your anxiety about all the fuss disappear.

You exhale again and inhale hard again, you could be doing this all day, you have nothing to worry about, you're in your world, locked away from society, and must be recovering from whatever Riddler did as his closing snap.

You open your eyes and stop doing your breathing exercises, you hear a laugh. But not just any laughter, but a loud and annoying laughter, you instantly get up from your bed and run towards the door with a small glass window. The laughter was not your imagination, and you can recognize it now that you are closer to the door.

You don't see any guards guarding this section of cells, how strange. The laughter continues unabated. It must be some neighbor of your cell because of the proximity of the noise and you have an idea of who it might be but you ignore it for only a few minutes, you can't take it anymore and yell "Can you shut up for once?".

Your cell neighbor stops laughing and you can finally feel at peace, but instead starts a conversation.

"Scarecrow?" you close your eyes just hearing that horrible nickname he gave you at some point during his hospital stay. relatively the two have been in Arkham for a similar amount of time, both trapped by Batman and calling them the dark knight's worst enemies. 

But you could never compare yourself to someone like him Joker. 

You had a chance to get to know each other when you let him participate in common activities, you don't want to remember the first time you spoke to each other, it ended badly, period.

"Don't call me that, asshole" you insult him and he sounds pleased with your response.

"Ah! Are we sensitive today? It's a holiday! Let's celebrate!" 

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"our guest of honor has arrived, only his final trick is missing!" he continues to speak in that animated voice that irritates you.

When you talk to the Joker you get that feeling that he is speaking in another language, but he is not, you understand what you are saying but at the same time, you don't. You also realized that he knows too much to be just an Arkham patient. 

But everyone at the hospital can assure you that your neighbor is not an ordinary patient at all.

This time you managed to understand his words, Riddler still has an ace up his sleeve, how could the Joker find out about that?

"Did Batman interrogate you too?".

"Of course he did...I'm his favorite!" he replies in the same arrogant manner as always "but I don't forgive him for being so crude on our anniversary."

"So you saw it, huh? I don't think this is a coincidence" You suppose the Joker must have seen it too, of course, he may be reciprocally insupportable but he's not stupid.

The clown laughs, but you don't, you didn't say anything funny in your opinion.

"Poor little Riddler, he thinks he can be just like him."

You ponder what he says, returning to your bed as you sit up again, the sky begins to clear and you can see it through the tiny barred window.

What if this assassin wanted to imitate Batman in some way? 

"What a bizarre introjection you've made, Riddler" you whisper.

First, there was an explosion.

You felt the whole cell rumble, you woke up instantly and got up from your bed to run to the door even with your eyes swollen from sleep, naively you thought it was some kind of earthquake. You stuck your face to the glass of the door in search of a guard or nurse, whatever it is that will help you get out of this cell, you don't want to die here.

However, the section was still empty, there was no one in the guards' small surveillance cubicle, and you could only perceive the monitors on, showing the news. 

You heard a completely strident noise, there was no earthquake. You turned slowly to the window, the color was changing from gray to orange.

It can't be.

you rush to see what's going on, you grab a piece of your bed to climb on it and reach the high window of the cell, you level yourself by holding your hands on the rusty metal bars, and you catch a glimpse of what caused such a noise. 

You saw the light of an explosion, the combination of yellow and red colors coloring the sky, the smoke, the fire. The explosion happened far away from Arkham, but you can still see it in detail, then the noise became present, and you grimace at the impact on the walls, but it was not over yet.

Explosion after explosion went off all over the city, from bridges to seawalls, a scene so hard to believe if you weren't watching it right now.

The sight takes your breath away, you are so stunned that you almost fall to the floor witnessing such an act, this is what the Joker is referring to? the Riddler's final trick?

not even the scarecrow did so much damage to this city, you underestimated the man with the riddles.

You could not take your eyes off the explosions, there were too many and well-armed to generate so much destruction. The second thing was the water, the waves and drains getting out of control and flooding several streets.

You grip the metal bars tighter, not believing this is real, but it is. Not just bombs but a flood, was that what he had under his mask? Is Gotham drowning with innocent people? 

It makes sense now, his cooperation when caught, the guards' restless attitude, and Batman's uneasiness.

All.

Suddenly you focus on the bustle of what seems to be your cell neighbors, you didn't notice when they put the other patient in the cell next to yours. The noises came together to form a horrifying atmosphere. The laughter of the Joker, the excited laughter of your other neighbor, and the explosions that went on and on. Even with your breathing exercises, you could not relax in the face of this horrifying event.

Slowly you let go of the bars and stop looking in the window, slowly you understand one thing.

Someone beat Batman.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes!*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.

[thevestigeofvanillaan]

Daddy's Girl.

"i wouldn't say i called it if i hadn't. but i called it when i said it was a sick joke"

karma akabane x spoiled!reader.

content: smut, mention of weed, smoking, getting high, innocent reader, corruption, "daddy", bully!karma, enemies to lovers ig, belly bulge.

hey guys!! first karma post. also first post on the new "EARTH'S GRIMEY CRIES" page!! i lately have taken interest in the color palette for cyan, blue, dark blue, and darker shades of red. "The Delicate Sound Of Thunder" live concert by pink floyd was an influence on this particular page design, and i love it. it's always nice that i can create a whole new page when i get out of room on my navigation centers, or when i want to. hopefully my sp fans aren't too upset that i want to write about other shows/people!! i'll be posting drafts and finishing requests soon.

karma is such an asshole.

to everyone, not even just you.

having not known him pained you as you thought he'd hated you for no reason other than you're a "taut daddy's girl who gets daddy's money". which was unreliable truth that nobody except select few in the entire school system knew. karma was one of those people.

he knows everything about everyone, it's terrifying, honestly.

"talk of that brat" karma scoffs as you walk over to talk to your tutor, nagisa, who'd oddly enough been on speaking terms with karma regardless of their differences and past experiences.

"nagisa, i got a b on our recent test, can you help me more in the future?"

"i don't see why no—"

"maybe if instead of buying you ponies, your daddy bought you an education; you wouldn't be in such a pickle, darling."

you sigh and walk away, assuming the help is useless anyway, and karma was right. you were just not bright when it came to academics because you were raised with everything a kid dreams of.

but he catches up to you.

"no hard feelings, princess?"

"no hard feelings? asshole. what is with you? can't you leave me alone?" you scoff and continue to walk, not bothering to eye him.

he sighs and jogs slightly to catch up with you. "alright– listen, i got an a+ on the recent test.. alright? let me help you."

"you? offering to help me? what kind of sick joke?"

"it's not a joke. come to mine at.. say seven." karma stops walking beside you to go find someone else to bother.

i wouldn't say i called it if i hadn't. but i called it when i said it was a sick joke.

you showed up at karma's doorstep at 7:00 PM, like he'd told you to. alarming detail being no cars in the driveway, where his parents cars are usually parked.

he'd opened the door. "hey princess. make yourself at home, you might be here a while." he invites you in with his usual sarcastic tone you hated.

"want like.. water? sorry it's not sparkly or whatever i don't drink that weird shit." he says as he grabs a glass and fills it with water, handing it to you.

karma starts to head upstairs and so you follow him into his room that's weirdly tidy and large.

karma was not poor, in fact his parents made the same money your dad did. just, karma took individuality when it came to money. decided to get a job at a young age and has been making his own money ever since and even bought his own car.

you didn't do that. you were always handed everything, so you grew up differently than karma. or at least with a different mindset.

"your room is nice." you compliment awkwardly to fill the silence as you just stand in the middle of the clean wooden floors.

"uh, are you gonna sit down or just stand there?" he tilts his head and chuckles, patting the spot right next to him on his bed.

you place your cup down on a table and cough softly even though you didn't need to, heading over slowly and sitting down fairly far from him.

but that distance didn't stay when he scooted closer anyway. "so! what's the score ya got on the test?"

"hey wait. why do you make fun of me all the time? for.. being fortunate i guess."

karma stays in silence for a moment before laughing. "you.." he pokes your chest and doesn't look into your eyes as he talks. "you aren't the fortunate one. your daddy is, and you take advantage of it.. that's what i make fun of."

you look down at his hand that lay still in your lap and grab it with your own hand. "i never got to know what it was like to be a teenager because my dad was strict. he used money to keep me away from the public, sex, drugs, parties, everything. that's not my fault."

he doesn't say anything for a couple seconds before he looks into your eyes. "huh. so you have never done any of that?"

you nod 'no'.

"hah! baby do you have a lot i need to teach you. to hell with the stupid test that we already did." karma laughs. "you've never even gone to a party?"

"nope."

"shit. you're such a virgin." he laughs and you look down in embarrassment. but he brings a hand to your chin and makes you look back up at him. "hey, no need to be embarrassed. hey let me help you."

"help me with what?"

"you ever wanted to get high?" karma asks, opening a drawer before taking out a pen. "this makes you tired, jus'so you know. your daddy cool if you stay the night? because baby you'll be out."

"mhm." you nod and bite your lip, shifting the way you're sitting in excitement. you always wanted to get high but never had the chance.

"you're ampy. guess my little innocent girl's not gonna be so innocent anymore, huh?"

my? you'd wonder about what he'd meant. but you didn't care because it made you feel good; at least in the way you took it.

he holds the pen up to your mouth. "breathe in.. then.. breathe in again. that's the only way i can really explain it to you."

and with that you took it to your mouth and did as he told you. "take another hit. but that's it, this can be strong and i don't know your tolerance, baby."

after you take another, you watch as he takes his and after that, it starts to hit you. the room starts moving into .5 and it's all zoomed out. it's cool, nothing like you'd ever experienced before.

you start to giggle.

"mhmm. you okay, baby?" karma asks and you nod, moving closer to him.

"uhuh. hey. what's next?" you ask, crawling into his lap and laying on him in tiredness.

"what do you mean, what's next?" he asks, rubbing my arm and conforting me. this was the sweetest karma had ever been.

"well you said— you said you were gon' teach me stuff. can teach me bout sex. take it from me?" you didn't even know what you were saying, or that it would affect you tomorrow. and you didn't care.

karma chuckles lowly and lays me down. "you're tired, can see it in your eyes."

"fuck me to sleep." you sit up and grab at the hair at the base of his neck, pulling on it before pulling his face into yours, kissing him softly. "please— all i wan' right now is you."

he takes his hands and parts your legs and rests himself between them, laying you back down to lean over you as he kisses down your neck, playing with the hem of your shirt.

through your shorts you felt the bulge inside his jeans pressing against your clothed core. you wanted it so bad. you take your hands to his face and pull him back up to kiss your lips.

whispering into his mouth "please, need you so bad.. karma."

now that he knew you knew what you were doing and with who, he went feral. he took off your shirt and unzipped your jean shorts.

you trace his jawline with your fingers and admire his pretty face as he removes his own clothes.

not long later his tip is pressed against your entrance. "are you sure you want this, baby?"

with one nod he thrusts into you painfully and your back arches as you moan loudly. he doesn't give you time to adjust as he starts thrusting at a quick paste.

your moans are loud and you scratch at his biceps and his back as tears prick your lash line.

"fuck karma— please.." you moan as he uses his thumb to play with your clit as the rest of his fingers press down on your lower abdomin, creating intense pleasure. the bulge in your belly was felt on his finger tips.

"oh, baby moan louder.. let my neighbors hear who fucking owns you.."

"fuck!! ugh—karma please please please please fuck harder." you moan out loudly, pushing him down into your chest and locking your legs around his waist so he can't pull out.

"baby don't do that.. im gonna cum soon." both hands go to your thighs so even if you tried to take them off you couldn't because he holds your legs firmly there, against his own command. "you're— real tense!" he squeezes his abs in a groan from the throat. "you're gonna cum?"

"mmmmhmm." you whine and nod, tears streaming down your face with all the pleasure.

"fuck im gonna breed you all good.. fill ya full with daddy's cum, yeah? you're mine, you know that? huh? tell me you're all mine." he groans and whines at you in a needy voice that makes your orgasm peak.

"all yours–! 'm cummin'!"

"god yes, cum with me baby." he groans and you release together, heavy breathing and leftover moans fill the room as they echo against the walls.

karma pulls out and falls beside you, who's about to be sleeping mind you.

"hey wait, don't you fall asleep. knew indica would get ya like this.. it always does with first timers." he sighs and gets up, grabbing a towel and walking back over to you, half lidded and looking up at him with dried mascara tear stained cheeks.

karma smiles softly at your expression once he knows you can't see him, rubbing the towel on your thighs and everywhere between your legs. he grabs a shirt and helps you sit up, putting it on you and grabbing your panties, that he also puts on you before laying you back down.

he lays beside you and you drag heavy limbs to snuggle into his chest and side. "thanks.. for all this. guess im not your little innocent girl no more."

"you're still my girl.. told ya that, didn't i?" he says and you giggle softly, nodding into his chest. "good, so.. you're my not-so-innocent little girl now, huh?"

[tomurawr44]

would you mind writing headcanons of tomura and my oc? she’s a tall goth so i wonder what you’d think about their relationship 🫰🖤

(i’m okay with both sfw and nsfw :3)

TOMURA/OC HEADCANONS!

A/N: your oc is gorg omg! I remember seeing your posts when i first started getting back into my Tomura obsession and it forced me to lock in and actually cook up a coherent oc with lore 😭 I'm so honored I appeared on your radar🖤 maybe I'll man up and finally make my oc into a drawing to post here.... sorry if the nsfw section is short!

WARNINGS: nsfw under the cut, ooc, just assumptions based on her looks so sorry :( I DONT WANNA BUTCHER OR MISCHARACTERIZE HER SOS.....

I know you said her and tomura but toga loves her and tries to get her to hangout with her whenever Tomura has you around him.

they place their beds together in minecraft.

she has beat him in all the games he plays atleast once and he still sulks about it to this day.

they have been to the mall together and she came with him to the mall scene w/ deku to pick him up and to tell him to knock it off.

she's his collar lol she keeps him in place and to stay rational.

i would like to think she's in the league of villains.

they have painted/written on eachother's controllers, mouses, switches, and even on their clothes.

Tomura thinks her hair is really nice and just likes to carefully run his fingers through it, when i say careful i mean he individually holds locs of hair to put them between his fingers so he can run his hands through it.

Tomura thinks she's emo.

she's kind of assertive over him, but not infront of the league because she knows it'll piss him off.

one time she got so happy drunk with Tomura he had to hold her hair back while she throws up in the toilet. she's done that for him too. holding his fringe up while he vomits is such a couple thing.

twice likes to refer/compare her hair to his mask, he thinks it's cool.

dabi also thinks she's pretty chill, and wonders why she's with Tomura when obviously there's better options. (Not him, he's pretty innocent if u have read the bnha smash manga with the villains!)

he likes it when she ties her hair up.

he texts like a dad, a thumbs up or replies with some outrageously stupid image he found online.

Mr.Compress also thinks she's cool, spinner is somewhat jealous of Tomura though, but he understands why you're with him.

Magne and Toga LOVE her. as in, when the league becomes closer they've had girls sleep overs, twice was invited of course, he's the exception.

Tomura, Dabi and Spinner have eavesdropped in these conversations, mostly Tomura and Spinner while Dabi only does it if he's really bored and all he has to do is kick rocks.

Toga wears her clothes sometimes, actually, all the girls in the LoV have done a fashion show with twice.

Twice is her girls girl.

Tomura gets jealous when he walks into the sleepover room only to see you and toga cuddled up, while magne is unknowingly cuddling against twice.

he has taken a photo of it before though.

he's tried to put on height extenders inside his shoes whenever he's with the league, but after the shoe fell off because it was so loose he's never done it again.

NSFW AHEAD!

Remember when i said he likes her hair? he'll put on his gloves master gave him as a kid during sex just to grab a fistful of it and pull her by it.

he loves her chest, so much, he's constantly grabbing at it no matter what and if she tries to push him off he'll pout.

hickeys, hickeys hickeys hickeys. he loves leaving red to purple marks on her pale skin, he feels so good whenever he does that.

he likes to cum on her chest, or get a titjob while he plays some game on his computer.

they have fucked infront of AFO accidentally befor because Tomura assured her he was on mute and probably wasn't paying attention because he called out to his master several times and he got no reply. AFO just wanted to see what would happen if Tomura thought there wasn't eyes on him all the time.

he's sent her links to goth/emo pornos and says 'can we recreate this' (they always do)

he loves the height difference, he loves to nuzzle up against her chest.

he likes to fuck her with some clothes on because in his opinion it's way hotter. (ref to the 2nd pic and her top)

he likes it when she wears heels and lets him hump against her foot, especially with the height difference? he's cumming in his pants that's for sure.

he eats her pussy like a starved man, she has to pull him by the hair to get him to give her a break.

he likes choking her and seeing the red mark formed from his grip, it turns him on so much.

[tickldpnk8]

Winter’s Edge: Death, A Winter’s Tale

A long time ago (in Tumblr years), folks were discussing Death’s character, and asking me to weigh in. (@rey-jake-therapist do you remember tagging me? this has sat in drafts for precisely that long) Coincidentally, I was writing this post during that time and ended up sitting on it due to reasons I'll get into below.

The next issue in my Sandman Reread is A Winter’s Tale. So today, we'll be discussing Death as a character and what she says of herself in this issue. And it was really hard to write this because the story is pretty short and is essentially the monologue we hear from Death in the TV episode for "The Sound of Her Wings". So from my perspective, there wasn't a lot new to explore in this issue.

But since I started this post, we've been talking in the Sandman Bookclub posts about how the Endless really are their concepts. And I ended up not posting this and completely rewriting it. So without further ado, my thoughts...

First up, I loved the art in this: simple black and white pen and ink sketches are overlayed with watercolor backgrounds. I love the use of paint bleeding across the paper to give a background. The loose sketches give it a fresh feel.

As for the premise, the whole issue is basically what we hear in Sound of Her Wings as I mentioned above. Death talks about how in the beginning, folks were excited to live and die, but then things took a dark turn and she started to hate her function. She ended up quitting for a while and not ushering folks to their afterlife until an individual came to her and showed her what she had done. Then she goes through a period where she's kind of hard and cold until a small girl puts things into perspective. Here we learn that Death takes a day to live every 100 years so she can experience life and death.

So back to Death as a character and a concept. It's interesting to me the journey she goes on. What would make Death withhold her gift? What would make her become cold and brittle? What would make her chose to live among us for a day? If I think about this whole tale as a metaphor, I'm not sure I can come up with a good explanation or story for it. (if @poobtato or @writing-for-life have any good takes on what would be the backstory here, I'd love to hear them.)

However, I do think there is a good parallel between the way that death has been perceived by folks and differing cultures to the different feelings She attaches to her function. Death is indiscriminate. She can be cold and unfeeling. Untimely. A relief from terrible circumstances. Compassionate. Loving.

And I think that ultimately, it's so easy to see her as a character who is a friendly face. Who is a loving sister. And because of that we tend to look at her as a human and forget just what she is: the end. The end of a life, of a story, of a perspective. She's comforting, but she's still an end. And no softening of her character can negate that.

She and Morpheus may have a lot in common. There is a conceptual overlap between sleeping overnight and the final rest we all take. Hamlet's soliloquy even ties the two together ("To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause...") Not to mention how we've all joked about La petite mort here on Tumblr. It's easy to view the 2 of them as simply two siblings who are close.

However, I do think there is something to them being close and Morpheus drawing closer to death as he gets closer to his sister. They can't help being what they are. So if Death is a bit insensitive to Morpheus' depression/suffering, she can't really help it. She's not human: she is literally Death. Death doesn't really care what leads you to her: she's there waiting for you in the end regardless. To be close to his sister, is to be close to death itself. To be comfortable with the idea of it. To seek it out. Even if she is the one who finds him at the park. She extends the invitation to come with her, and he follows. I love her, and yet, I want to shout at Morpheus to keep his distance.

If Sandman is a tragedy and a story about grief, this issue sums it all up from her perspective. Death is all of the above: it's a fact of life and it touches us all at some point before it's our time. I like that ultimately, Gaiman chooses to embrace a friendly face at the end. Rather than leave us with a colder, meaner end, he gives us a Death who is that friendly face. Who will walk with us to whatever lies beyond. Who is a comfort. It's given me a lot to think about, and I've decided that I want this to be the end that awaits us all.

[bcbdrums]

👻,💡and 🎨

heheh, hallo fellow CrossStitch fan! i'll answer these for Soul Eater.

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

probably that spirit never cheated. i have made many a tumblr post about this (man i should have tagged those explicitly....) and whenever i bring up the topic (except to a couple good friends) it creates instant ire, backlash, arguments... i rather think there's an entire discord server that dislikes me due to this very headcanon looool.... but the thing is, i don't think it's a wild idea! just everyone else does. meanwhile 1) a five year old maka whose mama is gone is not a reliable narrator, and 2) a divorced man is allowed to cast his gaze elsewhere, and 3) we truly have no evidence he ever did cheat. literally all we have is toddler maka's claims and the scenes she shows us in that flashback from the first prologue are easily, easily interpreted as people fawning over a celebrity and spirit is THE celebrity (and dancing with people is normal social behavior since when is dancing with not your spouse a crime???? in what culture???? seriously). i have written essays on this AND I'LL WRITE THEM AGAIN! stopping myself here or i'll go on for ages.

💡How many WIPs do you currently have?

for.... just soul eater.... uhm. well. if we count individual documents, approximately 50. but three to four of those documents are....anthologies, with many many one-shots contained therein.... so we're looking at closer to 80 WIPs just for soul eater..... and most but not all of those are stein/spirit focused or focused on one of the two. i do have other things tho, like a soul-centric pre-canon multi-chap huehue. if we wanna talk about all my fandoms tho.... uh well... for kim possible (Drakgo ship mostly) there's over 300 WIPs.... let's ballpark my total across all fandoms at approximately 500 💀💦💦💦💦💦

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

oh goodness... i truly don't know. i've already received so much beautiful fanart, and it's utterly humbling. i think... the true answer to this is, i want to see what impacted a reader. if there were a specific moment or scene or line or look that meant something to a reader, then i'd want to see that expressed. as a writer i love knowing how my writing impacts others. so to know what meant something to someone else would be the greatest gift.

thank you for the ask! ^^

[saved-fanfiction]

Garazeb Orrelios x Reader

Note: Okay, so this is my first ever fanfic. I have one more I wrote but haven’t revised it so idk if id actually post it. I highly doubt I'll ever write again; I just couldn’t help it. There are like one or two Zeb x reader fics out there. It should be neutral reader and I had the idea to make it my OC but figured it would be more accessible to make it an x reader Anyway, plz go easy idk how I feel about it.

Word count: 925

The rhythmic thump of music reverberated through the crowded streets of Zeltron as Zeb strode purposefully alongside you. The vibrant colors of the diverse alien planet mingled in a kaleidoscope of celebration around them.

Zeb glanced over at you, his eyes studying your features before speaking. "You ready for this? These crowded places ain't exactly our usual scene."

You nodded, a small grin on your face. "I'm game, Zeb. Besides, it's a good change from our usual missions."

You maneuvered through the throng of partygoers, the aroma of exotic foods and the sounds of laughter filling the air. Zeb's eyes scanned the area, alert for any sign of trouble. He moves so his body walks closer with yours. "Stay close, this place might be lively, but it's easy to get lost in the chaos."

You nodded again as you glanced around at the alien revelers, fascinated by the diversity of species and customs. "It's incredible how different it is here. So many people celebrating together, all while the Empire rules the galaxy."

"Yeah, it's a melting pot, alright. But we're not here to party. We've got a job to do."

You followed his lead as he navigated through the maze of stalls and entertainers. Zeb's keen eyes darted around, ever watchful. "Keep your eyes peeled. Our contact could be anywhere in this chaos."

As you and Zeb made your way through, scanning faces for any sign of their contact, a figure caught your attention. A lithe and charismatic individual, waved you over.

"Over here, friends! I've been expecting you," the informant smiled widely. Zeb's furrowed brow betrayed a hint of unease as he kept a close eye on the interaction. He leads you both through a lounge, then to what looks like an office room. 

The informant stops at the door open and as you walk through he hovers his hand on the small of your back with his other arm extended to show you the way forward. "I must say, I'm pleased to have your company." 

It's much more quiet, there is a mirror wall behind the desk and shelves of trinkets litter the walls, almost like trophies. He takes a seat leaning back as far as he can with one elbow propped on the chair arm. He then motions for you both to sit across from him.

Zeb's fists tightened as he grumbled under his breath. "We're here for information, not to make friends."

You glance at Zeb, and also try to steer the conversation back to the mission. "Right. We need to know what you've heard about the Imperial shipments in this sector." 

His eyes look Zeb up and down, acknowledging his presence with a condescending smirk. "Ah the big, strong protector. I can see why you keep him around."

Zeb's patience wore thin but he maintained his composure, all while staring daggers at the man. "We don't have time for games. What do you know?" 

You understand he's a reliable informant for the rebellion so opting to not verbally degrade the slender man may be the better option. You decide to cross your arm and raise your brows expectantly.

The informant's previous demeanor diminished as he began relaying crucial details about Imperial activities in the sector. Zeb listened intently, his focus solely on the information being provided. As the conversation continued, Zeb's stance softened slightly, recognizing the value of the information despite his initial reservations about the man's behavior.

As you left the office, the atmosphere between you had shifted. While you were pleased to have secured valuable intel, you noticed Zeb's brooding silence.

"Zeb, everything alright?"

He grunted in response. "Just making sure we're not followed. Can't be too careful." But his gaze wasn’t too focused on the surroundings.

You aren’t satisfied with his response so you continue to pry. "But you seem a bit… off. Is something bothering you?"

Zeb's brow furrowed as he quickened his pace, trying to dismiss your concern. "Nothing's bothering me. Let's focus on getting back to the Ghost and log the intel."

As you both boarded the Ghost and settled in, Zeb sat on the curved cushions in the lounge busing himself with documenting the gathered intel on a holopad. His focus was intense, almost as if he was deliberately avoiding any and all conversation.

You thought it best to give him space and wait till he was finished. After some time the Lasat retreated into his quarters. You knock on the open doorway and lean against it.

"Zeb, seriously, what's going on?" you pressed gently. 

He sighed heavily while sitting up in his cot, his eyes meet yours briefly before finding the floor. "I... I just... wasn't too keen on the way that informant was behaving.” He sighs before admitting sharply, “I worry about you, okay.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. Zeb, known for his gruff exterior, rarely shared such sentiments openly. It was cute knowing he cared. "Zeb, I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time." 

His arms are now crossed and his eyes find the poster on the wall very interesting. "I know, but... I can’t help but feel like it's my job to protect you. It’s stupid, I know you can take care of-” He didn’t notice you walking toward him, you silenced him by placing a hand on his arm. Your touch is warm and comforting. When he gathers the courage to look, you are kneeling in front of him with a soft smile. Your eyes look wide with admiration.

“It’s my job to protect you too.”

[vidreview]

VIDREV: "Short Seasons Are Killing TV" by Captain Midnight.

[originally posted august 29th 2024]

Captain Midnight is one of those creators i don't really follow because the vast majority of their work (mostly Big Corporate IP analysis) doesn't interest me, but every once in a while they'll come out with something that's EXTREMELY relevant to my interests. this one caught my eye because i've been on that "the streaming model is really bad for television" grind since 2018, and i'm always curious to see how mainstream perspectives on this stuff are evolving.

i'll just say at the start that this is a pretty good video. most everything i've watched by Captain Midnight has felt at the very least on the right track, if not always entirely on point, and the lack of cutesy overly familiar Content Creator-isms are a godsend from this type of channel. it makes for a bit of an odd duck for a full VIDREV, because i'm not here to discuss the shortcomings of what was said, but rather to take a closer look at what wasn't said.

in short, this is a video about how the now-standard 8 to 10 episode TV season in a post-streaming world has strangled much of what makes the medium unique, and he points to how many of the top-rated streaming shows are older titles with a hundred or more episodes as evidence (though he leaves out that streaming rights to shows like The Office have been the subject of contentious bidding wars in the past, a fact that would only strengthen his argument). he hits a lot of my personal favorite talking points: streaming tv is worse at good individual episodes, the idea of "filler" doesn't really make sense when applied to american television, the serial episodic structure lets you get to know characters better over time. near the end he pulls out the Netflix Marvel shows Jessica Jones and Luke Cage, each of which had a 14 episode first season that felt somehow overlong, despite their characters being literally tailor-made to support serialized week-to-week stories. these, he says, were an important early example of how the prestige streaming model encourages movie-like storytelling instead of TV-like storytelling. these are a good points, many of which i've made myself across my recent informal series of video essays about modern television writing practices.

but on the other side of all that analysis, Midnight's conclusion leaves something to be desired. here's the closing paragraph that jumped out at me, with my own added emphasis: "I love serialization on TV and I always have, I just think it can often be used better within the scaffolding of episodic stories. and for a while there it felt like TV was getting better and better at melding the two together into something truly interesting and special. but somewhere along the way that progress got lost, and many in the industry ended up thinking that serialization and short seasons were the shortcut to quality." take a good, long look at those bolded statements, and consider how important they are to Midnight's argument. after 17 minutes of wide-ranging and generally pretty good analysis of specific shows and recent trends, these three generalizations quietly paper over a gargantuan blind spot in order to get the script over the finish line.

first, "for a while there." for a while there refers to the internecine years between the dawn of the Netflix streaming era in 2011 and the eventual Wall Street-ification of all the media companies by 2018-19, when there was a big shift away from purely serialized television towards the more expensive "prestige" model we're so accustomed to now. what were the causes of this shift? what was actually going on "for a while there"? well, the 2007 writer's strike increased the writer's royalty take from home video sales, and gave them more bargaining power with networks. for this and a million other reasons, a lot of post-2007 shows saw a diminished episode-per-season count from 23 to 16-18. this was a huge boon to writers who now had more time to work on fewer episodes, meaning the quality of each individual episode shot through the roof. it helped that everyone coming into showrunning capacity at this period had years of experience working in the sitcom/cop-drama mines, developing a hunger for a show that could tell a continuous narrative within an episodic framework. with this new higher-quality television spreading away from cable-only networks into broadcast, suddenly everyone was talking about "the golden age of tv" and hyping up the medium as a place for nuanced, artful storytelling. Netflix saw where the wind was blowing and invested heavily into this trend, selling the idea that on streaming, there's no need for a set episode-per-season count for every show, no need for every episode to come in at a set length, no need to avoid more controversial adult topics for advertisers. of course, they very quickly reneged on that promise and have since become everything they promised not to be, but whatever. as Netflix succeeded, other networks decided they wanted to eat the streamer's lunch and develop their own services, making big deals with established names that made for great marketing. this meant a wave of well-publicized high-profile investment that pulled triple duty with audiences hungry for more mature media, creators hungry to make more mature media, and investors with dollar signs in their eyes. perhaps you can guess whose interests are the ones that actually matter in this equation.

but then after all that investment and quality increase, Midnight says, "somewhere along the way" the trend shifted, and "many in the industry" adopted the streaming model as the artistic ideal. now, hold on, wait. who in the industry? do you mean writers? directors? producers? executives? these roles each have wildly different relationships to the medium and to the stores of capital which allow it to be produced, and putting them all in a single consensus-bucket together as if they're all the same thing is wildly misjudged. you know what happened "somewhere along the way"? studios and streamers (and their increasingly powerful Wall Street backers) realized that favoring streaming over home video meant they didn't have to pay those costly royalties that were so painstakingly won in the 07 strike. you may recall that apocalyptically low streaming royalties were a major point of contention in the 2023 writer's strike. (the irony of Netflix starting as a DVD rental service is lost on no one.) like every service that emerges out of big tech, streaming was tailor made to break unions and steal profits without looking like that's what they were doing. they sold a big loud exciting bill of goods, got everyone to invest before regulators could catch up, made themselves an essential part of the creative economy, stole absolutely everything that wasn't bolted down while no one was looking, and left all their traditional unionized competitors scrambling to make up the shortfall. if this sounds familiar, that's because it is THE business model of the post-08-recession world. you might call it platform decay, or if you're Cory Doctorow you might call it "enshittification," but i'm gonna cut out the middle man and call it what it is: the tendency of the rate of profit to fall. it's the enclosure of the commons in microcosm, the natural process of enclosure and monopolization inherent to an open market. as is always the case with their loud proclamations of innovation, tech has invented nothing new here. it's pretty much just What Capitalism Does.

we do not need bloggers to reinvent Marxism from first principles to understand what's happening. Marx already did that for us.

another key factor for understanding what happened "along the way" comes with the development of Mini-Rooms. instead of creating a crew of staff writers experienced at multiple levels of production who work for months together to write the scripts for a single season of television, streamers like Netflix would assemble small rooms of relatively inexperienced writers paid slightly above intern rates under the guidance of maybe one experienced showrunner that were only given a few weeks to pump out scripts to please investors. this has led to shows that often feel samey, rushed, and terminally inconsistent. now, instead of writers having more time to work on fewer episodes for the same (or greater) pay, they have less time to work on fewer episodes for worse pay and virtually zero royalties. this coincides of course with cost-cutting measures across the board in streaming, with producers desperate to decrease time on set wherever possible and eating the cost of breaking union regulations because Economies Of Scale Are Fucking Absurd, meaning everyone on a production has less time to do their work, which inevitably means that their work is worse. and with TV seasons being so drastically shortened, and the gaps between seasons so drastically widened (not to mention the expectation that few if any shows will make it past season 2 (because union contracts get a pay bump at season 3)), there are fewer opportunities for young filmworkers to gain experience, build connections with fellow filmworkers, and hone their talent pool over a period of years. a show isn't just its writers, directors, and stars after all, it's an entire business operation employing hundreds if not thousands of people. for a filmworker in the 90s or before, getting a gig on a popular show could be life-changing because it was one of the rare Hollywood situations that was relatively dependable for a long stretch of time. those kinds of jobs are increasingly rare, and the alternatives are starting to look more and more like undignified freelance work than a real sustainable career.

all of these factors and so many more have had the downstream effect of making the entire industry less stable, burning out promising young talent instead of developing it, discouraging others from trying to break into the industry in the first place, and lowering the baseline quality of popular media so the viewing public sees it as less valuable. perhaps you can fill in the blanks on the ensuing race to the bottom.

this is not the result of a creative consensus. this is not something that "many in the industry" just sort of randomly changed their minds about "somewhere along the way." this is an economic trend driven by economic forces far beyond the purview of any single working person's decisions. maybe you can find interviews that suggest otherwise, maybe there were lots of writers excitedly extolling the virtues of streaming media over traditional forms-- but those people are no less vulnerable to marketing hype than you are, and why should they have been more educated about the economic realities of streaming than we were? we are, all of us, simply reacting to systems in motion, trying our best to make sense of them, searching for the silver lining that keeps us from going insane at the instability of it all. this is why it's so important to have a materialist framework for your analysis-- without that anchor you're just judging by vibes, trying to divine an explanation from consumer trends and missing the forest for the trees. look not to the words of any given writer or actor or producer, but instead to the money, to the actual flow of material power. look at the victories of organized labor, and the resultant retaliations by organized capital. Midnight's thumbnail loudly states that "WE BROKE TV," but "we" didn't do a damn thing. our consumption habits didn't do this, the creative preferences of writers or directors or showrunners didn't do this-- it was rich people with lots of money who saw an opportunity to make even more money and took it, damn the consequences.

here's my problem with consumer-side criticism. it tends to see a hard dividing line between those who make media and those who consume it, and thus generalizes all of the makers into a single heterogeneous mass that can only be understood in the vaguest possible abstract. without a materialist economic framework for understanding the flow of power in these systems, consumer-side criticism can only go so far before it crashes headlong into a big scary Marx-shaped wall. there's a door to the other side only a few feet away of course, but it's rare for a critic in this mode to walk through it because I guess they see the business side of things as irrelevant or overly complicated. like, we're here to talk about the contents of media in a very layman's death-of-the-author sort of way, to judge trends on their own merits and not rely on outside sources to skew our perspective. this is fine when the scope of your analysis is relatively small, but as soon as you start asking questions like "why isn't [thing] as good as it used to be" your consumer-end framework fails you utterly. i'm not saying Captain Midnight is a uniquely craven paragon of this particular misstep by the way, in fact on the whole i'd say he's better about this than many. this is an extremely widespread problem for a generation of critics brought up after The End Of History, when trickle-down free-market hokum was adopted as Natural Law, leaving them only the empty feelgood individualist babble of neoliberalism to interpret the world. but it's not an insurmountable problem! i've yet to meet a commie my age that didn't start in that bubble and have to work their way out of it. i certainly made my share of embarrassing neoliberal apologia before finding the immortal science! it is the process of a lifetime to unthink these blind spots, and i point them out in all kindness in the hopes that others might avoid such mistakes in future.

and frankly, everyone is asking these "why is [thing] bad now" questions because it's begun to affect every facet of our lives. it's not just movies and television shows, it's basic web services, it's the USPS, it's the healthcare system, it's jobs and housing and education, it's everything. what is it, precisely, that you want to fix? you want to see better movies and tv shows? how do you propose to make that a reality, beyond "i hope that creators/audiences adjust their habits accordingly"? to my mind, this notable tension is a perfect opportunity to point people in the direction of an actual systemic cause, and thus an actual systemic solution. do not stop your analysis at "shorter seasons are bad and i hope they stop doing that" when you could help your audience think about these things in terms of class, labor, and solidarity, by giving them an illustrative example they might apply to their own working life. there is no fix to this macroeconomic trend in reform, no union so strong it can put a lance through the heart of capital's lust for profit. maybe bringing all this up in a video would feel too political for a lot of creators in this space, but the politics are gonna do what they're gonna do regardless and it's gonna be your problem (and your audience's problem!) sooner than later. i'm not saying every video essay should be a dedicated Marxist polemic, that would get old real fast, just that the current liberal individualist framework lets the real perpetrators off the hook and limits our ability to imagine better futures. if you want to feel like your fluffy unimportant media analysis is "justified" at a time of war, genocide, and crushing economic disparity, you might start by using them to normalize a more collective, materially-grounded way of thinking about the world. it's the little things that add up most in the long run, and you'd be surprised how easy it is to make "too political" into "too important to ignore" with a little strategic frog-boiling.

that's my opinion, anyway. this is still a pretty good video essay and i think you should go watch it. i'd also recommend Midnight's review of the Borderlands movie and the interminable nostalgia of modern Marvel movies for a bit of good fun.

[final note: at the start of the video, Midnight mentions that Adam Conover also released a video about the harms of streaming television at the same time, but that it goes in a very different direction. i'm gonna give it a watch and see how it stacks up by comparison. i expect that it will have a more materialist framework (since Conover actually works in the industry) and correctly identify where the problems lay. i also expect that he'll fall flat when it comes time to talk about solutions, because like Cory Doctorow he's invested in the anti-monopoly line, which fundamentally believes that if you just break up the monopolies then capitalism will be fine actually. i guess now i'll put that theory to the test, and if i find anything interesting i may end up writing about it.]

[zombiifyd]

Can you tell me your analysis of the Albatrio’s relationship? I love hearing the nuances of people’s different takes on their dynamic!

AHAIHSJEH WOULD I?????? absolutely.

this post is gonna be so long its just gonna be a bunch of word vomit i swear. so i am so sorry.

OKAY SO I'M GONNA BE LIKE,,,, breaking down all of their relationships one by one, with like two individual people and then their all in whole because its SO IMPORTANT to look at the details.

———

1. chip and jay

these two have so many dynamics. i don't really see them as brother and sister but their fights definitely do remind me of that dynamic. to me, they're more like best friends that have that close of a bond. especially because of how they met, they kind of just instantly clicked. it one of those friendships where two unlikely people have the most chemistry and it never dwindles. obviously it has to do with the fact that they go on all of these adventures together. and they probably spent a couple of days at sea before finding gillion. so they must have gotten close, even if jay was a "spy" at the time, she never really acted like she was. chip found her, and in stead she found herself. and its really touching.

i would say they're definitely the closer two of the bunch even though trust has been broken a couple of times but they always come back stronger. i really love jay and chip.

2. jay and gillion

LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING. these two mean literally everything to me. (hi navyseal shipper here) i'm sure i made a post about my thoughts about their relationship on my blog once. but might as well rehatch it and apply the new things i've learned with all the new episodes i've listened to. i still think their relationship is so pure and just so UGHHHH /pos. LIKE JUST ALL OF THE TOUCHING MOMENTS THEY HAVE. but even all of the normal moments they have also. i think the whole albatrio is just unlikely people who have found each other and just clicked with insane amounts of chemistry. because even though in the early episodes, gillion was a little strange and trying to figure out this new world. jay found him strange, but fun. and a good guy.

and it shows in future episodes and even going to him for ADVICE before the block and the reveal she was a spy and everything. and even after that gillion STILL trusted her. willing to literally to everything to keep her with them. like IM TEARING UP JUST YHINKUNG ABOUT IT. "just tell me what you wan't and i'll fight for it." HOLD ME BACKCKCKC I WILAHAJWHJE i am so notmal about them. anyway yeah thats jay and gillion

3. fish and chips

hey guys. listen. fish and chips???? yeah. i agree.

anyway, they are so important to me. they have a weird relationship though, to me at least. like in the beginning they were rough and bumpy but they were still close and affectionate. and dude, let me say, that when they we're crying and holding onto each other in the mud and fighting bugs in laffinlot, they had my entire heart. but in more recent terms from where i am listening, where they were about to go to grimms party, their relationship has evolved so much?? but it had barely even changed. if that makes sense???

especially when chip now almost refuses to lie to gillion anymore. if anything, i think the ice dome broke but made their relationship stronger because gillion confronted chip about what he has been doing. and chip now kind of understands where gillion is coming from??? because gillion doesnt share much of what is in the undersea with the two other than the mentions here or there of his laws and his beliefs, and strongly believing them. and i guess chip is still trying to process that gillion is NEW to this world and everything. even now in the episodes i'm in.

they have a really interesting relationship but i cannot put it into words bc if i do i will explode. but i love them.

4. THE TRIO!!!

all in all, they're idiots who found each other and in turn are trying to find themselves in this big vast, and new, world. they are idiots who have insane amounts of chemistry even when they first met. they are idiots who walk straight into navy bases and fuck shit up bc it's what they do as the best pirates ever!!! they consume my heart and mind and they will never leave. they are a package deal and they refuse to leave one another behind because they are friends. they are co-captains. they are family. they are each others persons. and that's it to them.

okay i think i'm done. SORRY AGAIN

[lenachan3ko]

Let's Learn About Team Moon!

How do I introduce my ocs to a website I am a stranger to??? Well, I guess I will just post about them randomly (and copy paste descriptions from my Twitter)

Let's talk about my 3 main Sonic OCs, also known as Team Moon! These are 3 of my oldest OCs that mean quite a lot to me. Their goal in Sonic Heroes? Finding Shadow the Hedgehog and defeating Dr. Eggman! I'll go over the members individually!

Luna the Hedgehog

[ Fly ]

She is technically the leader of the group, and is a peacemaker for the other two! Luna was created on the Space Colony ARK by a smaller research team. Her purpose was meant to be a sort of "neutralizer" for Project Shadow in case the project went haywire, as well as an additional remedy for Maria's illness. Luna has the ability to predict the future and can also move things with her mind. Despite these powerful abilities however, Luna doesn't really fight much unless she absolutely has to.

Luna grew close with both Maria and Shadow during their time on the ARK. Maria was the one who brought Shadow and Luna closer together as well, because at first, he thought Luna was irritating. The two hedgehogs fell in love on the ARK. When the GUN raid occurred, Luna was not with Shadow or Maria at the time. It is unknown what had happened to Luna during the incident, but she was found by Lyla and Blaire on earth.

Lyla the Cat

[ Speed ]

A young girl who's family and home were taken away from her by a forest fire caused by Dr. Eggman. Because of this incident, Lyla has a sworn hatred towards Eggman. At first, she used this hatred and anger and took it out against innocent people. She did not act this way for too long, however, as Sonic, Tails, and Blaire stopped her and showed her the light.

Lyla has a strong affinity towards building mechs-- much like Tails! She is a very intelligent girl and acts very spoiled and rotten-- but has a pure heart. She ends up developing a crush on Tails due to his impressive inventing abilities and his kindness, however she has a hard time being upfront about that. She is a bossy, rude girl until Tails shows up-- then she's red like a tomato!

Blaire the Manx

[ Power ]

The physically strongest member of the team. She lived in the same village as Lyla and was one of the only survivors of the fire. She was the one who rescued Lyla from the flames. Blaire also lost her family to this tragic incident, but she heavily blames herself for not trying harder to rescue them. Because of this incident, Blaire suffers from an extreme case of pyrophobia. She freezes at the sight of fire and tries to avoid it the best she can.

Blaire is easily mentally exhausted and a bit sarcastic. She will always pull through to be a hero, however. Like Lyla, Blaire also holds a great hatred for Dr. Eggman, which she used to become stronger. She is still fighting her fear of fire, but she wishes to be stronger to make her lost family proud. On a lighter note, she is also a useless lesbian and is very awkward around women she finds attractive.

I think that just about covers the basic info about the three girls! Thanks for reading if you got this far! I hope you look forward to seeing more of them (and my other ocs) in the future!

[justanothersyscourse]

My final comments on CDDs

Anything after this will be deleted or ignored for my own MH

People fully admit they're not taking anything anyone says in good faith and refusing to allow anyone the chance to elaborate, and I'm not down for that

So

Complex: I've stated repeatedly that calling one thing complex is not saying another thing isn't. This isn't a complexity competition. I'm not comparing the complexity of anything, but instead discussing what falls under the HEADER of CDD and why. Whether it's under the HEADER or not means nothing (see quote below).

Parts/alters: fully autonomous with their own continuous sense of self (ANP or ANP-like, based on Nijenhuis' updated ToSD definitions)

Distinction between OSDD 1a and b as CDDs: I said that OSDD 1 falls into secondary SD (it does, generally, see below), though 1a falls firmly in the middle and 1b falls closer, or into, tertiary. This isn't just my own words, but coming from the authors of the ToSD.

Neither is more complex than the other. In fact, it's suggested that the opposite is true.

-(there's another quote I want to include here, just need to find it)-

In principle, the number of parts of the personality in a given individual has little bearing on whether dissociation is at the secondary or tertiary level. A patient with secondary structural dissociation may have many EPs, while a patient with tertiary structural dissociation may only have two ANPs and two EPs.

The Haunted Self

The theory predicts that overcoming tertiary dissociation in DID is less demanding than overcoming secondary dissociation.

Trauma-Related Structural Dissociation of the Personality, van der Hart, Nijenhuis, Steele

CDD as a term simply encompasses multiple ANPs and multiple EPs. That's it.

In my initial post about OSDD 2, I specifically chose the word "parts" instead of alters because I didn't want to leave out OSDD 1a. I should have used a different word or elaborated more on what definition I was using, and how OSDD 2 did not share that feature.

OSDD 2: is about identity confusion, not alteration. That's coming from the DSM. I said, if you experienced those things and have "parts" or a system or alters, OSDD 1 or DID would override the OSDD 2 diagnosis.

I'm not sure why that's controversial. This doesn't say anything about the complexity of the disorder or the causes behind it. It just doesn't have alters or distinct parts. Why is everyone so angry?

OSDD 1a doesn't have alters: see this post with backup info. This does not mean that I believe OSDD 1a isn't systemhood or that they don't belong in this community. Again, just just a fact about the presentation of the disorder.

BPD and OSDD 1a: I provided sources where I was getting my comparison from. The difference here seems to be levels of amnesia and the... Strength? Of EPs. Does that make sense? In fact, I'd argue trauma-based, dissociative BPD belongs in our communities too for support.

According to the Haunted Self:

However, patients with BPD have lower scores for dissociative amnesia on the DIS-Q than patients with DID and lesser degrees of identity confusion and alteration. These differences distinguish BPD from DID... Some patients with BPD have severe dissociative symptoms, and may actually border on DDNOS or DID. Our clinical observations suggest that dissociative parts in BPD patients have less emancipation and elaboration, and a less distinct sense of self than in DDNOS or DID.

I think that's everything, but if you send an ask with a point you'd like further clarification on, I'll likely add it here, but I won't be directly engaging any further.

Additional edit:

I'm not sure if it's because I live in America's hat, or just my own education, but DDNOS was always described as "not yet" and "not quite". People were diagnosed with DDNOS when they either failed to switch during diagnostic interviewing, or they showed no signs of amnesia, and the vast majority would go on to eventually display both and later be diagnosed as DID.

For example, during initial interviews, we would go into "states" where we believed we were still in active danger. We would cry and panic and completely shut down. If this was an alter, it was little more than a fragment that would manage to completely overpower the rest of us with the sheer... Size of its fear. Recognizing where our life was currently was just... Beyond our grasp in this state, and even if it could be convinced we were safe and calmed to hold a conversation, any progress was undone by the next time it appeared.

I came out of these sessions with only minimal awareness/memory. I knew I'd made a fool of myself, but not much else, though the way I tried to play it off as nothing major implied I had more awareness than I did.

This was the EP, I was told.

Its function was extremely limited and it was driven by emotional distress. Talking to it in any coherent fashion wasn't possible. It couldn't recognize our life as it was currently and was terrified that our abuser was standing outside the office door, waiting for us to finish. All that could be done was to reassure it until the episode passed. It believed it was me, but thought that I was someone else. That sounds confusing, but it was very much a part of me/us, and related to this body, this life, and the trauma we experienced, but somehow thought that we were a little boy, at the same time.

I am not a little boy, and I was little girl at the time that abuse occurred.

Again, confusing, nothing ever makes sense, it's wonderful.

Amnesia wasn't clear enough at this point, not for switching and not for past abuse.

I have never managed to fully switch in therapy, though at home my system is extremely comfortable with my partner. Several years later, long after I had chickened out of further testing, I was in therapy again and my doctor was aware of my previous history with OSDD. I still couldn't let us switch in front of her, but my husband was brought in to talk about some of my other alters.

Some appeared, by description, to be fully fledged ANPs. Aware of our life as it was, vaguely aware of our history, but relatively unbothered and disconnected from the... Fallout of that history. They had likes and dislikes and could hold conversations about current, relative topics, and held their own opinions and ideas about those topics.

For example, all except for one of my ANPs thinks COVID was bad. One of us thinks the world needed a culling to bring to population down before we completely kill the planet. That's fucked up, but he's got opinions and he's damn well going to share them, whether any of us like it or not.

This alter was a mix of an ANP and EP. He was still largely driven by paranoia and anger, and he occasionally found himself confused about days and times or where he was (sometimes even what species he was). He was mostly capable of holding conversations about current topics, though very selfish in that it would always turn back to him and his problems.

The EPs have no idea what COVID is (though if I split one because of COVID, that would be a different story), and have no interest in hearing about it.

I have never once said that OSDD 1a are not systems. They very much are. They still switch and have just as many (if not more) problems as I do. They still have parts.

However, in the context of CDDs, they don't fall into tertiary SD. That all I said.

EPs are not "alters" as they're known in DID because they have little to no awareness of positive life changes and instead remain stuck in trauma. I've lost hope of my little EP ever taking on ANP traits, and instead now focus on internal care for him.

Because he fucking deserves it.

I needed to stop hoping and expecting, because it was putting more strain and stress on him, and I needed to accept the little emotional bundle that he was. He likes mug cakes and watching Marble Olympics after he's been calmed. It helps him relax so we can scoop him back up in a hug and put him to bed, because naps after crying are the best.

In my opinion, all this makes DDNOS/OSDD 1 a pretty useless diagnosis, and I think it should all be part of one single diagnosis. I think OSDD should be in tertiary, regardless of EP/ANP configuration because of the relative emancipation and awareness of EPs in 1a. They may not be as distinct and autonomous as ANPs or alters, but this is clearly part of the same disorder and it goes above and beyond that of the other disorders considered secondary SD.

There have been dozens of recommendations for how this should happen, all with their own problems and positives.

I don't really have any thoughts myself on how to do this.

But I never meant to downplay anyone's experiences. I only meant to discuss the literature on SDs.