#Journal of Biometrics

[shiyorin]

Author's note: Come from my private au, has so many settings I am never said before but I think it is funny, must post.

Tumblr formatting sucks so I had to change it like this.

EXPOSED: 133 SPICY SECRETS THE IMPERIUM DOESN’T WANT YOU TO KNOW — WHAT THE PRIMARCHS REALLY DO AFTER DARK!

From kink collections to bedroom blunders - the juiciest, weirdest, and most heretical habits of the Emperor’s golden boys. You won’t believe #26… and #90? Absolutely illegal in 7 systems!

The Lion maintains absolute discipline even during climax, barely changes expression.

Has a secret passionate side that only emerges with you.

Silent hunter in the streets, vocal beast in the sheets.

Despite his serious demeanor, he makes cat noises when he comes. Not sexy growls, literal "meow" sounds.

Has never discussed his intimate life with anyone, total compartmentalization.

Possesses surprisingly detailed knowledge of ancient Terran tantric practices.

Watch you like prey before making a move, intense predatory stare.

Has a ritual of knightly "service" that leaves you breathless.

Fulgrim has tried literally every sexual practice in Imperial records.

Can delay his climax indefinitely through perfect muscular control.

His perfectionism extends to sexual performance, practices techniques alone.

Has a mirror positioned above his bed, claiming it's "for technique refinement."

Keeps a detailed journal rating every sexual encounter on multiple criteria.

Always smells like different exotic perfumes depending on his mood.

Perturabo pproaches pleasure like an engineering problem to be solved with precision.

Records biometric data during encounters to analyze optimal techniques.

His jealousy issues manifest as possessiveness in relationship.

He has body image issues despite being built like a Greek god. When you started calling his stretch marks "triumph lines" and his response was to short-circuit emotionally.

Surprisingly responsive to praise during intimate moments.

Despite his gruff exterior, he cries during his refractory period. Every time.

Has trust issues that translate to control dynamics in bed.

Jaghatai's speed isn't just for the battlefield, it can vibrate certain body parts.

Never stays in one position for long, constant motion and rhythm.

Has a thing for outdoor sex.

Braids his hair specially for intimate occasions, pulls it out after.

Makes a distinctive sound during climax that's become legendary.

Knows pleasure techniques from dozens of different cultures.

Sometimes recites war poems during particularly intense moments.

Leman's heightened sense of smell means he can detect arousal from across a room.

Growls during climax, not metaphorically, actually growls.

Has fucked in every environment imaginable, including in blizzards.

Gets rough during full moons without even realizing it.

His beard provides unexpected sensations that drive you wild.

His dirty talk is surprisingly poetic, often in ancient Fenrisian dialects.

Has a thing for biting, leaves marks that last for weeks.

Dorn approaches sex with the same directness as everything else, tells you exactly what he wants.

Has incredible endurance, can maintain the same position for hours without tiring.

He speaks exclusively in literal terms during sex. "I am now going to insert my penis into your vagina" is his idea of dirty talk. When you asked him to talk dirty, he told you about soil composition and drainage issues. Somehow, still hot.

He has never once lied, which made "how was it for you?" a terrifying question until you learned to be more specific.

Never exaggerates or falsifies his reactions, 100% authentic responses.

Has an unexpected thing for bondage, loves testing the strength of different restraints.

Always keeps his word on promised pleasures, reliability is his hallmark.

If you want to peg him, he will provide a detailed structural analysis of your technique, complete with suggestions for improved angle of entry.

Konrad can see your deepest desires through his precognitive abilities.

Only has sex in complete darkness, says the shadows "speak to him" then.

Has a thing for fear, gets aroused when you are slightly afraid.

Never makes a sound during sex, total silence except for breathing.

Sometimes whispers your future to you during climax, usually disturbing stuff.

He's a little spoon who needs to be the big spoon until he falls asleep, then immediately reverts to little.

He keeps a "justice journal" where he ranks everyone's crimes and appropriate punishments. Apparently, your crime is "excessive smugness" and your punishment is "thorough pleasure correction."

Sanguinius's wings are erogenous zones, extremely sensitive to touch.

His beauty isn't just physical, emits a pheromone that intensifies attraction.

Blood rushes to his wings during arousal, making them flush visibly.

His enhanced hearing means he can detect the slightest changes in heartbeat and breathing.

You can feel a euphoric blood rush in his presence, possibly psychic.

Has a tragic fear of hurting you, requires absolute trust.

He looks like an angel but fucks like a demon. The dichotomy is disorienting.

He apologizes after dirty talk. "You're a filthy cockslut-I'm sorry, that was disrespectful.”

Despite Ferrus's gruff exterior, whispers surprisingly tender things during intimate moments.

Temperature of his hands can be adjusted for different sensations.

Always checks in verbally throughout, consent is non-negotiable.

Can go for multiple rounds with zero recovery time.

Has a thing for hands, loves both giving and receiving hand pleasure.

Contrary to expectations, Angron is extremely controlled in bed, afraid of hurting you.

His rage translates to intense passion when properly channeled.

The Butcher's Nails make his pleasure/pain responses unpredictable.

Requires specialized reinforced beds, has broken dozens.

Gets emotional after particularly intense sessions, sometimes even cries.

Prefers if you aren’t intimidated by his size or reputation.

His heart rate during sex would kill a normal human.

Guilliman approaches sex with tactical precision, maps erogenous zones like campaign targets.

Keeps a detailed spreadsheet analyzing performance and your satisfaction.

Actually wrote a private codex on sexual techniques, 500 pages, fully illustrated.

Always showers immediately before and after.

Has a thing for authority figure, ironic given his own position.

Surprisingly imaginative once he trusts you enough to relax.

Asks for performance reviews afterward, genuinely wants to improve.

Despite his appearance, Mortarion is unexpectedly gentle and attentive.

Has a breathing kink, loves controlled breath play.

His body temperature runs cold, creating interesting sensations for you.

Surprisingly flexible.

Has never been naked in front of anyone, always keeps something on.

His scarred skin is extremely sensitive, especially along his back.

Silent during sex except for carefully controlled breathing.

Prefers total darkness, claims it "equalizes the experience."

Magnus can psychically enhance your pleasure, making you feel everything he feels.

His eye glows brighter during arousal.

Can maintain an erection for days through psychic control.

Know exactly what you want before you do, mind reading has its benefits.

Has invented several positions that would be physically impossible without telekinesis.

Sometimes accidentally projects his orgasms psychically, causing everyone nearby to feel it.

His extensive library includes the galaxy's largest collection of erotic literature.

Has had sex while simultaneously reading a book.

Horus has a thing for power dynamics, he loves when you challenge his authority before ultimately submitting to him.

His stamina is legendary, often going for hours without breaks.

Gets incredibly turned on when called "Warmaster" in bed.

Has a secret collection of handcuffs from every world he's conquered.

That scar on his body? Extremely sensitive to touch, instant arousal trigger.

Secretly recorded himself with you, keeps the videos in a hidden vault.

Has a thing for doing it in war rooms, especially on strategic tables.

Lorgar treats sex like a religious experience, complete with rituals and chanting.

Has written erotic poetry that would make experienced courtesans blush.

Takes his time, foreplay can last hours as he "worships" every inch.

His voice alone can bring you to the edge, has studied sonic stimulation.

Maintains eye contact throughout, intensely spiritual connection.

Has a thing for confession scenarios, wants to hear your darkest desires.

Always burns special incense that heightens sensitivity.

Has sacred words tattooed in places only you discover.

Vulkan's body temperature runs extremely hot, like making love to a furnace.

Gives the best post-sex cuddles in the Imperium, like being wrapped in a warm blanket.

Has a surprising affinity for sensual massage, can work out knots you didn't know you had.

Laughs during sex, finds joy in physical connection.

Always focuses on your pleasure before his own.

His heartbeat is audible and hypnotic during intimate moments.

Corax can literally turn into shadows during particularly intense moments.

Has a thing for heights, loves balconies, rooftops, and flying vehicles.

So quiet during sex you sometimes forget he's there until he touches you.

Can see perfectly in darkness, knows exactly where to touch.

Sometimes sprouts shadow-wings during climax, startling the unprepared.

His voice drops to hypnotic registers during dirty talk.

Enjoys watching from the shadows before joining in.

You're never sure which twin you're actually with, sometimes they switch mid-session.

Can perfectly mimic the sexual techniques of anyone they've observed.

Keep a network of informants reporting on the sexual preferences of your.

Have developed secret pleasure points unknown to standard anatomy.

Sometimes speak in unison during threesomes, eerily synchronized.

Have been known to disguise themselves as servants to spy on people's sexual habits.

One likes to be on top, one likes to be on bottom, but they never specify which is which.

The Emperor's psychic presence intensifies pleasure to godlike levels.

Can appear differently to different, manifests as your ideal lover.

Time seems to stretch in his presence, moments of pleasure can feel like eternities.

His golden aura becomes blinding during moments of passion.

The Primarchs' various quirks are genetic echoes of the Emperor's own preferences, each inherited different aspects.

*******

You stared at the crumpled list in your hands, blinking rapidly as you processed what you were reading. The paper had been slipped under your door sometime during the night, the handwriting alternating between several different styles as if multiple people had contributed to it.

"What the fuck," you whispered, scanning the detailed, disturbingly detailed, descriptions of the Primarchs' supposed sexual habits.

This had to be retaliation for your artwork. Ever since you'd been caught sketching that sexual piece featuring Horus and Sanguinius in a rather compromising position, things had escalated into a bizarre war of increasingly sexual content between you and the Emperor's sons.

Your data-slate pinged with an incoming message. Seventeen new commission requests from seventeen different encrypted sources, all requesting artwork based on items from the list. Each offering payment that would make an Imperial Governor blush.

"Oh, it's fucking on," You cracking your knuckles as you reached for your stylus.

********

The first anatomical "reference session" was scheduled for that afternoon. Magnus had requested a private meeting in the Librarium after hours, claiming he needed to discuss "important tactical matters" with the remembrance.

When you arrived, you found the crimson Primarch sitting rigidly at a massive wooden table, surrounded by ancient tomes and scrolls that definitely weren't tactical in nature.

"I received your list," you said without preamble, dropping the crumpled paper onto the table between them.

"What list?" Magnus asked, his single eye widening with what appeared to be genuine confusion.

"The 133 sexual facts about you and your brothers," you clarified, watching his face carefully. "Rather detailed information about your... preferences."

Magnus's crimson skin darkened further as he snatched up the paper and scanned it rapidly. "This is...I didn't-" he sputtered, then paused, his eye narrowing. "Number Eighty-eight is accurate, though."

"Which one was-" you started to ask before catching yourself. "Not the point. Did you and your brothers create this as some kind of joke? Retaliation for my artwork?"

"I assure you, I had nothing to do with this," Magnus said, still reading the list with increasing distress. "Though I suspect Fulgrim or perhaps the twins..." His voice trailed off as he reached the section about himself. "That's... uncomfortably specific."

"So these are accurate?" you couldn't help asking, professional curiosity getting the better of you.

"I neither confirm nor deny," Magnus replied automatically, though his continued deepening complexion suggested otherwise.

"Right," you nodded, retrieving the list and tucking it away. "Well, regardless of its origin, I've received seventeen commission requests based on it. Including yours about psychic pleasure enhancement."

Magnus choked on nothing. "I didn't-"

"The request came from 'definitely_not_magnus@librarium.imp,'" you interrupted dryly. "Very subtle."

"That could be anyone," Magnus protested weakly.

"It was written in Prosperine hieroglyphics," you countered. "With annotations in a language that doesn't technically exist yet."

Magnus slumped in defeat. "Fine. I may have sent a... hypothetical inquiry."

"About whether I could accurately depict psychic pleasure transference in artistic form," you completed. "For which you'd need to demonstrate the technique. For accuracy."

"Precisely," Magnus nodded, scholarly demeanor returning. "It's a complex psychic phenomenon that requires direct observation to properly capture."

"Uh-huh," you said skeptically. "And this has nothing to do with item ninety-one on the list about you accidentally broadcasting your orgasms psychically?"

Magnus's eye darted away. "A preposterous exaggeration."

"So that didn't happen during the Ullanor campaign? Because I heard an entire regiment of Imperial Army suddenly collapsed in ecstasy during your private meditation time."

"A coincidence," Magnus insisted. "Mass hysteria."

"Right," you grinned. "So about this commission..."

********

The next morning found you in the training cages, ostensibly observing combat techniques for "assassinorum purposes" but actually gathering reference material for the flood of commissions that had arrived overnight.

Jaghatai and Leman were sparring, stripped to the waist, their compression leggings leaving little to the imagination as they grappled and threw each other around the cage. A small crowd had gathered to watch the Primarchs train, but you had managed to secure a front-row position with your sketchbook.

"Enjoying the view?" Torgaddon asked, sliding up beside you.

"Research," you replied without looking up from your rapid sketching. "Anatomical references for commission work."

"Uh-huh," Torgaddon nodded skeptically. "And the fact that you're focusing on their glutes and crotches is purely professional."

"The gluteal muscles are key to understanding proper movement dynamics," you explained with mock seriousness. "Also, item twenty-three indicates Jaghatai 'never stays in one position for long, constant motion and rhythm.' I need to capture that accurately."

"You actually believe that list?" Torgaddon asked incredulously.

"I'm verifying it empirically," you corrected. "Scientific method and all that."

Just then, Jaghatai executed a particularly impressive takedown that left Leman pinned beneath him, both Primarchs breathing heavily and glistening with sweat. They held the position a beat too long, eyes darting to where you sat sketching, before Leman growled something and they separated.

"They're showing off for you," Torgaddon observed.

"Of course they are," you agreed, adding detailing to your sketch. "And I'm getting excellent reference material because of it. Win-win."

"This is going to end badly," Torgaddon predicted.

"This is going to end profitably," you corrected. "I've made more money in the past week than in my last three assassination missions combined."

"Speaking of which," Torgaddon lowered your voice, "there's a rumor that the Emperor himself has commissioned you for something."

Your stylus paused momentarily. "Where did you hear that?"

"So it's true!" Torgaddon’s eyes widened.

"Neither confirm nor deny," you muttered, returning to your sketching. "Client confidentiality."

"By the Throne," Torgaddon breathed. "What did he ask for?"

"If, and I stress if, such a commission existed," you said carefully, "it would be for a classical portrait. Nothing more."

"Classical as in...?"

"Classical as in Ancient Terran style. Renaissance era."

"Nude?" Torgaddon pressed.

"Artistically draped," you corrected primly.

"The Emperor wants you to draw him like one of your Terran girls," Torgaddon marveled. "The actual Emperor of Mankind."

"This conversation isn't happening," you insisted, focusing intently on your sketching as Ferrus Manus entered the training cage, also stripped to the waist, his metal arms gleaming under the lights.

"Your pupils just dilated," Torgaddon noted.

"Lighting change," you dismissed, though your increased sketching speed suggested otherwise.

"Right," Torgaddon drawled. "Well, while you're conducting your 'research,' you might want to know that father is looking for you. Something about providing 'detailed references' for his triple-self commission."

"Already scheduled," you replied without looking up. "After the war council. He's bringing reference materials."

"What kind of reference materials could father possibly-" Torgaddon started to ask, then shook his head. "Actually, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Wise decision," you agreed, flipping to a new page as Ferrus began demonstrating a series of strikes that showcased his impressive torso musculature. "Very wise indeed."

********

The Emperor's private gallery was unlike anything you had ever seen, a vast chamber filled with artwork spanning human history, from primitive cave paintings to hololithic masterpieces that seemed to shift and move as you walked past them.

And here you were, presenting your completed commission to the Master of Mankind himself.

"The brushwork is exquisite," the Emperor commented, examining the large canvas you had delivered. "You've captured the classical style perfectly."

"Thank you," you replied, trying to maintain your professional demeanor despite standing before the most powerful being in the galaxy, discussing what was essentially an erotic portrait.

"The musculature is anatomically precise," he continued, "yet idealized in the classical tradition. Your understanding of chiaroscuro is impressive."

"I studied the ancient masters extensively," you explained, which was true, you'd spent three days in the Imperial archives researching Renaissance techniques for this commission.

"And the draped fabric creates just the right balance between revelation and mystery," the Emperor noted, his golden eyes studying the painting with the intensity of a sun. "Excellent work."

The painting depicted the Emperor in a classical pose reminiscent of ancient Terran deity portrayals, strategically draped fabric preserving modesty while suggesting the perfection beneath. It was tasteful yet undeniably sensual, exactly what he had requested.

"I'm pleased it meets your expectations," you said, feeling oddly nervous despite your training.

"More than meets them," the Emperor assured you. "I shall add it to my private collection immediately." He gestured to a section of the gallery that appeared to be accessible only through a psychically locked doorway. "Your compensation has been transferred to your accounts, with a substantial bonus."

"You're too generous," you began, but the Emperor raised a hand.

"I reward excellence appropriately," he stated simply. "And I understand you've been providing similar services to my sons."

You froze, unsure how to respond. "I-"

"No need for concern," the Emperor assured you, his perfect lips curving into a slight smile. "Creative expression takes many forms. And frankly, they've been more focused on their duties since your commissions began. Less... tension among them."

"I'm... glad to hear that," you managed, processing the fact that the Emperor of Mankind was essentially approving your pornographic side business.

"I would, however, suggest discretion regarding the list that has been circulating," the Emperor added, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement. "Some of those items hit rather close to home."

"You've seen the list?" you blurted before you could stop yourself.

"I see everything eventually," the Emperor replied enigmatically. "Though I suspect Malcador had a hand in its creation. He always did have a peculiar sense of humor."

Before you could process this revelation, the Emperor gestured toward the exit. "I look forward to seeing your future work, Remembrance. Perhaps we might discuss another commission at a later date."

Taking the dismissal for what it was, you bowed slightly and turned to leave. As you reached the doorway, the Emperor's voice stopped you.

"Oh, also? Item One-hundred-and-thirty-two is entirely accurate."

Your mind raced to recall the item in question, something about his golden aura becoming blinding during passion. By the time you turned back to respond, the Emperor had vanished, leaving you alone in the gallery with the distinct impression you'd just been teased by the Master of Mankind himself.

"What even is my life right now?" You muttered, making your way back to your quarters where seventeen more commissions awaited your attention.

[tcffantfu276]

1. The First Time Dick Says It

Gotham Docks, 2 AM

A warehouse collapses, trapping Batman inside. The thermal scans show no life signs.

Tim, frantic “We need to call in the League! He’s gone—”

Dick, already digging through rubble: “He’s not.”

Jason: “Are you blind?! The scans—”

Dick, calm as a sniper: “If he were dead, my heart wouldn’t be beating.”

*Silence.*

Steph: “…That’s the creepiest thing you’ve ever said.”

Cass, nodding: “Truth.”*

Bruce crawls out of the wreckage 20 minutes later. Dick doesn’t even look surprised.

---

2. The First Time Bruce Says It

Blüdhaven, 3 AM

A bomb levels Dick’s apartment. Footage shows Nightwing’s mask in the debris.

Damian, voice shaking: “Grayson is… he’s—”

Bruce, sharpening a batarang: “He’s alive.”

Tim: “Bruce, the evidence—”

Bruce: “If he were dead, I’d feel it.”

*The Cave freezes.*

Jason: “Oh hell no. You’re both delusional—”

Alfred, sipping tea: “Master Dick *did* once sense Master Bruce’s appendicitis from three countries away.”

Dick calls an hour later, laughing: “Miss me?”

---

3. Jason’s Breaking Point

After a Joker gas attack “kills” Dick:

Jason: “Face it, old man. He’s *dead*.”

Bruce, not looking up from case files: “His pulse is steady. He’s undercover in Markovia.”

Jason: “*What the fuck* is wrong with you?!”

Dick, over comms: “Language, Jay. Also, hi.”

Jason chucks a smoke bomb at the Batcomputer.

---

4. Tim’s Scientific Meltdown

Tim rigs the Cave with biometric sensors to “study” their bond.

**Tim:** “Heart rates synced 98.7% of the time. Cortisol levels mirror each other. This isn’t love—it’s symbiosis!”

Dick, stealing his coffee: “Or we’re just *awesome*.”

Bruce, reviewing data: “…Fascinating.”

Tim: “NO. Not fascinating! This is clinically unhinged!”

---

5. Damian’s Reluctant Witness

Damian finds Dick mid-panic attack after Bruce is stabbed.

Dick, gasping: “He’s alive. He’s alive—”

Damian: “Father’s heart stopped for 37 seconds.”

Dick, fierce: “Then why am I still breathing?”

Damian stares. Later, he burns his “Grayson is Irritating” journal.

---

6. Steph’s Hilarious Take

Steph catches Dick humming while Bruce is “dead” (again).

Steph: “You’re weirdly cheery for a widow.”

Dick: “Check the news.”

Headline: BATMAN SAVES ORPHANAGE, STILL ALIVE, STILL HOT.

Steph: “You’re both the worst. Marry already.”

Dick: “Aw, you do care!”

---

7. Cass Sees the Truth

Cass watches Bruce and Dick fight back-to-back, movements mirrored.

Cass, signing: “One soul. Two bodies.”

Barbara: “Poetic. Also terrifying.”

Cass: Grins. *“Perfect.”*

---

8. The Family’s Final Verdict

*After the 12th “death” fakeout:*

Jason: “I’m adopting a dog. Dogs *stay dead*.”

Tim: “I’m writing a paper. The NIH will freak.”

Steph: “I’m selling merch. *‘I Survived the Bat-Bond’* tees.”

Damian: “I’m… *grateful*. Do not tell Grayson.”

Alfred: “I’m increasing the sedative dosage. For myself.”

---

Final Scene:

Bruce and Dick, bruised but alive, listen to the chaos from the Cave’s vents.

Dick: “Think they’ll ever get used to it?”

Bruce: “No.”

Dick: “Good.”

They fist-bump. Gotham sighs.

---

Post-Credits:

Jason’s dog “accidentally” destroys Tim’s biometric sensors. Cass frames Damian. Steph profits.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Privacy first

The internet is embroiled in a vicious polycrisis: child safety, surveillance, discrimination, disinformation, polarization, monopoly, journalism collapse – not only have we failed to agree on what to do about these, there's not even a consensus that all of these are problems.

But in a new whitepaper, my EFF colleagues Corynne McSherry, Mario Trujillo, Cindy Cohn and Thorin Klosowski advance an exciting proposal that slices cleanly through this Gordian knot, which they call "Privacy First":

https://www.eff.org/wp/privacy-first-better-way-address-online-harms

Here's the "Privacy First" pitch: whatever is going on with all of the problems of the internet, all of these problems are made worse by commercial surveillance.

Worried your kid is being made miserable through targeted ads? No surveillance, no targeting.

Worried your uncle was turned into a Qanon by targeted disinformation? No surveillance, no targeting. Worried that racialized people are being targeted for discriminatory hiring or lending by algorithms? No surveillance, no targeting.

Worried that nation-state actors are exploiting surveillance data to attack elections, politicians, or civil servants? No surveillance, no surveillance data.

Worried that AI is being trained on your personal data? No surveillance, no training data.

Worried that the news is being killed by monopolists who exploit the advantage conferred by surveillance ads to cream 51% off every ad-dollar? No surveillance, no surveillance ads.

Worried that social media giants maintain their monopolies by filling up commercial moats with surveillance data? No surveillance, no surveillance moat.

The fact that commercial surveillance hurts so many groups of people in so many ways is terrible, of course, but it's also an amazing opportunity. Thus far, the individual constituencies for, say, saving the news or protecting kids have not been sufficient to change the way these big platforms work. But when you add up all the groups whose most urgent cause would be significantly improved by comprehensive federal privacy law, vigorously enforced, you get an unstoppable coalition.

America is decades behind on privacy. The last really big, broadly applicable privacy law we passed was a law banning video-store clerks from leaking your porn-rental habits to the press (Congress was worried about their own rental histories after a Supreme Court nominee's movie habits were published in the Washington City Paper):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act

In the decades since, we've gotten laws that poke around the edges of privacy, like HIPAA (for health) and COPPA (data on under-13s). Both laws are riddled with loopholes and neither is vigorously enforced:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/09/how-to-make-a-child-safe-tiktok/

Privacy First starts with the idea of passing a fit-for-purpose, 21st century privacy law with real enforcement teeth (a private right of action, which lets contingency lawyers sue on your behalf for a share of the winnings):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/07/americans-deserve-more-current-american-data-privacy-protection-act

Here's what should be in that law:

A ban on surveillance advertising:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/03/ban-online-behavioral-advertising

Data minimization: a prohibition on collecting or processing your data beyond what is strictly necessary to deliver the service you're seeking.

Strong opt-in: None of the consent theater click-throughs we suffer through today. If you don't give informed, voluntary, specific opt-in consent, the service can't collect your data. Ignoring a cookie click-through is not consent, so you can just bypass popups and know you won't be spied on.

No preemption. The commercial surveillance industry hates strong state privacy laws like the Illinois biometrics law, and they are hoping that a federal law will pre-empt all those state laws. Federal privacy law should be the floor on privacy nationwide – not the ceiling:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/07/federal-preemption-state-privacy-law-hurts-everyone

No arbitration. Your right to sue for violations of your privacy shouldn't be waivable in a clickthrough agreement:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/04/stop-forced-arbitration-data-privacy-legislation

No "pay for privacy." Privacy is not a luxury good. Everyone deserves privacy, and the people who can least afford to buy private alternatives are most vulnerable to privacy abuses:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/10/why-getting-paid-your-data-bad-deal

No tricks. Getting "consent" with confusing UIs and tiny fine print doesn't count:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/02/designing-welcome-mats-invite-user-privacy-0

A Privacy First approach doesn't merely help all the people harmed by surveillance, it also prevents the collateral damage that today's leading proposals create. For example, laws requiring services to force their users to prove their age ("to protect the kids") are a privacy nightmare. They're also unconstitutional and keep getting struck down.

A better way to improve the kid safety of the internet is to ban surveillance. A surveillance ban doesn't have the foreseeable abuses of a law like KOSA (the Kids Online Safety Act), like bans on information about trans healthcare, medication abortions, or banned books:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/kids-online-safety-act-still-huge-danger-our-rights-online

When it comes to the news, banning surveillance advertising would pave the way for a shift to contextual ads (ads based on what you're looking at, not who you are). That switch would change the balance of power between news organizations and tech platforms – no media company will ever know as much about their readers as Google or Facebook do, but no tech company will ever know as much about a news outlet's content as the publisher does:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/05/save-news-we-must-ban-surveillance-advertising

This is a much better approach than the profit-sharing arrangements that are being trialed in Australia, Canada and France (these are sometimes called "News Bargaining Codes" or "Link Taxes"). Funding the news by guaranteeing it a share of Big Tech's profits makes the news into partisans for that profit – not the Big Tech watchdogs we need them to be. When Torstar, Canada's largest news publisher, struck a profit-sharing deal with Google, they killed their longrunning, excellent investigative "Defanging Big Tech" series.

A privacy law would also protect access to healthcare, especially in the post-Roe era, when Big Tech surveillance data is being used to target people who visit abortion clinics or secure medication abortions. It would end the practice of employers forcing workers to wear health-monitoring gadget. This is characterized as a "voluntary" way to get a "discount" on health insurance – but in practice, it's a way of punishing workers who refuse to let their bosses know about their sleep, fertility, and movements.

A privacy law would protect marginalized people from all kinds of digital discrimination, from unfair hiring to unfair lending to unfair renting. The commercial surveillance industry shovels endless quantities of our personal information into the furnaces that fuel these practices. A privacy law shuts off the fuel supply:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/04/digital-privacy-legislation-civil-rights-legislation

There are plenty of ways that AI will make our lives worse, but copyright won't fix it. For issues of labor exploitation (especially by creative workers), the answer lies in labor law:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/01/how-the-writers-guild-sunk-ais-ship/

And for many of AI's other harms, a muscular privacy law would starve AI of some of its most potentially toxic training data:

https://www.businessinsider.com/tech-updated-terms-to-use-customer-data-to-train-ai-2023-9

Meanwhile, if you're worried about foreign governments targeting Americans – officials, military, or just plain folks – a privacy law would cut off one of their most prolific and damaging source of information. All those lawmakers trying to ban Tiktok because it's a surveillance tool? What about banning surveillance, instead?

Monopolies and surveillance go together like peanut butter and chocolate. Some of the biggest tech empires were built on mountains of nonconsensually harvested private data – and they use that data to defend their monopolies. Legal privacy guarantees are a necessary precursor to data portability and interoperability:

https://www.eff.org/wp/interoperability-and-privacy

Once we are guaranteed a right to privacy, lawmakers and regulators can order tech giants to tear down their walled gardens, rather than relying on tech companies to (selectively) defend our privacy:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

The point here isn't that privacy fixes all the internet's woes. The policy is "privacy first," not "just privacy." When it comes to making a new, good internet, there's plenty of room for labor law, civil rights legislation, antitrust, and other legal regimes. But privacy has the biggest constituency, gets us the most bang for the buck, and has the fewest harmful side-effects. It's a policy we can all agree on, even if we don't agree on much else. It's a coalition in potentia that would be unstoppable in reality. Privacy first! Then – everything else!

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[lyn31]

Love and Deepspace - What If?

Summary

On what should be her triumphant first day as a Hunter, Ever Xiang is pulled from the field by a health complication—only to find herself face-to-face with Zayne Li—her childhood friend—whose presence brings back a memory she didn’t expect to surface.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

This is an old WIP, I commission an art for my OCs last month because of queue we just start last Saturday and now it's finish Friday! So I was like this is the perfect time for it! It’s nothing grand, but this fic is basically how I got into LaDs fanfic so far 💕 If anyone else enjoys it too, that’s a bonus! CW: Implied human/children experimentation.

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Here is Rose and Ever! From Beeyo on IG!

These two fools trying their best lol

I usually keep my MC vague because I want the other to imagine her however they want but ofc I have her in my mind as well and that just how she look to me 👀💕

Also you might notice I made MC name Ever, rather than Everlyn (like in my Vampire AU), because even though it's not my real name I use it quite a lot on the internet and it still feel hella weird..... So she's Ever now! Dark humor I know.... EVER chasing Ever, Ever might be destroying EVER? lol

*Ahem* Anyway sorry! Enjoy!

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Ever Xiang—today is her day.

Well, hers and her sister’s. Rose Xiang.

Together, they're finally stepping into the world as official Hunters. After everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve survived, today should feel like a victory. It should mean something. And maybe it does—maybe it would—if she weren’t currently pacing through a hospital hallway instead of standing with her squad.

Not exactly the grand start she had in mind.

A quiet sigh slips past her lips as she pushes forward, boots tapping out a steady rhythm on the tile floor. The mission was supposed to be simple: investigate a flagged warehouse. No real threats, just intel-gathering. At least, that’s what the higher-ups claimed. And from what she saw, her team—Rose, Tara, and Lara—still had it under control when she left.

And yet.

Her fingers curl into the hem of her jacket. Even knowing that, even trusting them, she hates being away. It’s not just her sister she left behind—it’s her people. The ones who should be at her side for their first real operation.

But no. Instead, she’s here.

Because of her damn heart.

Technically, both she and Rose have it—Protocore Syndrome. A heart condition caused by the very thing that makes them choose to be Hunters. Living with an Aether Core fused into your chest isn’t exactly natural. Some days, it behaves. Other days, it reminds you that your body was never meant to contain that kind of power.

It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it lands her right here—under the Bureau’s thumb, dragged off-mission for mandatory checks. Protocol. Tiresome, inconvenient protocol. She feels fine now.

Not that saying so will get her out of this any faster.

She exhales sharply, shaking off the edge of frustration as she finally reaches the assigned office. After an irritating amount of forms and biometric scans, she rolls her shoulders and knocks on the door. Then, without waiting for a response, she pushes it open.

And freezes.

What she didn’t expect was a slap of familiarity so strong it nearly knocks her off balance.

The office is pristine—too pristine. White walls, a wall-to-wall shelf of medical journals, and a desk arranged with surgical precision. But it’s not the sterile setup that hits her.

It’s him.

Standing beside the desk, leafing through a patient file, is a man with sharp features and hazel eyes that catch the light like glass—flickering between gold and green. His silver-rimmed glasses sit low on his nose, and his lab coat is crisp, not a wrinkle in sight. He looks up, expression unreadable—until recognition flickers.

Ever hasn’t seen Zayne Li in years.

They still talk, sure—but never in person. Not since they all moved away and begin to get busy with their own things.

Her childhood friend. The boy who once scolded her for climbing too high in trees. Who always looked serious, always kept a distance—except with her. She remembers the way his eyes softened when she teased him. The way he’d sigh like she was dragging him into trouble he didn’t want—but always followed anyway.

And now? Now he’s here.

Her doctor. Assigned by the Bureau.

Of course.

Ever blinks. Then, slowly, a grin tugs at her lips.

“Well. If it isn’t Doctor Li,” she drawls, stepping inside. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you in a place like this.”

Zayne doesn’t flinch. His expression barely shifts, but she catches the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I could say the same.” His eyes flick down, taking in her posture—the way she’s favoring her left side, just a bit.

“You were supposed to be on a mission.”

She shrugs, slipping her hands into her pockets. “Technically still am. Just made a little detour.”

He sighs. Classic Zayne. “Sit.”

She doesn’t move yet. “So you didn’t think to tell me you moved back to the city?”

He glances up again. “I was going to call you today.”

And just like that, it feels like no time has passed.

But Ever knows better. Time has passed. Too much.

She opens her mouth, maybe to poke at him, maybe to say something more—except the words never come.

Because the light shifts.

It’s subtle. Barely noticeable. But for a second, the fluorescent overhead catches his face differently. His hazel eyes lean green. Not just any green.

That green.

A color that slices clean through the years and hits something buried deep. A flash of memory. Not just of Zayne—but of pain. Of fear. Of being small and broken.

Suddenly, she’s not in the office anymore.

She’s back in that cold, sterile room. The scent of antiseptic in her lungs. The bite of metal beneath her skin. A monitor beeping steady and impersonal in the background.

She is small again.

A girl lost in a nightmare made of bright lights and quiet suffering.

A girl who once reached out for the only warmth she could find in a colorless world—a boy with hazel eyes that always, somehow, looked a little bit green.

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The color is the first thing she registers.

Green.

Thick, hazy, all-encompassing. It’s not just in the air—it is the air, a filter draped over everything, heavy and suffocating. For a second, her brain misfires, tries to twist it into something softer. Someone’s eyes. Someone safe. But this green isn't safety.

It's sterilization. It's containment. It's control.

It fills her lungs like smoke, dry and acidic, and coats her throat with something synthetic. Machines hum around her, slow and detached, like the world is moving through molasses. There's a weightlessness that should feel freeing, but doesn’t. Not when her limbs don’t respond. Not when the cold doesn’t come from the outside, but from somewhere deep beneath her skin.

She could move. She thinks she could. If she really wanted to. Press a palm to the glass, curl her fingers—prove she’s still here.

But she doesn’t.

Because maybe she isn’t.

She’s slipping. Not just from the present, but from herself. Downward, inward, back into a space made of metal and silence and memories she tried to forget.

Then—

The world tilts.

A flicker. A glowing screen in a dark room. A user interface, soft sci-fi blue, names scrolling, a scene frozen mid-dialogue. Her—a version of her—sitting at a desk, watching pixels with a strange kind of ache in her chest. His hazel eyes staring back from the screen, warm in a way nothing real ever felt.

And then—

Another flash.

Cold fingers around her wrist. The sharp sting of a needle. A voice, neutral, void of empathy.

"You're lucky. You survived."

But she wasn’t lucky. She just lasted longer.

Another.

A blanket too thin to protect. A girl too small to run. A boy at the door, silent, fists clenched. A red light screaming from the walls. Run.

Another.

A hand, gripping hers like a lifeline. A voice beneath falling debris.

"Keep moving. I’ll get you out."

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. No one could.

Another.

A boy kneeling, wrapping a bandage with too-steady hands. His expression unreadable, fingers trembling.

“Next time, dodge.”

Another.

Steel glinting in low light. A blade to her throat, a smirk just inches away.

“You’re not scared?”

She should be.

She isn’t.

And another.

Him—hazel eyes dimmed, back turned, walking away.

Don’t go.

She reaches, but the green drags her down—pulls her back into the dark.

Then—

The liquid drains.

Tubes retract.

Weight returns in a crash of sensation.

The softness beneath her should be grounding—a bed, maybe—but the memories don’t let go. They crawl up the back of her throat, tangle in her chest, make it hard to breathe.

She isn’t here. Not really.

And then—

Warmth.

Small. Trembling. Real.

A hand finds hers, tentative at first, then more certain. A whisper rides the edge of the silence.

“…Sister?”

The word shatters something.

She breathes. Shakily. Like it’s her first real inhale in years. The warmth of the hand—small but sure—holds her steady, stops her from falling further.

She blinks. Her lashes are heavy, crusted with whatever fluid had once surrounded her. The light overhead is too bright, too harsh. Her eyes adjust slowly.

And then she sees her.

Rose.

Perched at the edge of the bed, drawn in on herself. Her posture is closed off, like she hasn’t decided if she’s really allowed to be here.

Her silver hair clings to her cheeks in damp strands, and her red eyes—the unusual color reflects to Ever's own hair—don’t flicker with relief. Just quiet exhaustion. But behind them is something else. Something hollow.

Ever swallows hard. Her throat burns, scraped raw by more than just the tube that had been there.

“…You’re awake,” Rose murmurs, like she isn’t sure it’s true.

Ever tries to answer. She wants to say something sarcastic, something stupid. Something to make this feel normal. But all that comes out is air.

The memories won’t leave her. They cling like wet fabric. Every blink brings back a flash of something—static, green, pain. Familiar voices that shouldn’t still echo.

“Run.”

“Dodge.”

“Don’t be scared.”

The pulse she hears isn’t even her own.

But Rose is here. Real. Solid.

That should be enough.

“…How long?”

Her voice is a scrape across dry stone. Barely audible.

Rose’s fingers twitch, then tighten around hers, just enough to be felt.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I woke up first. They left us here.”

A beat.

“I didn’t know if you were going to wake up at all.”

That lands like a punch to the chest. Not because it’s cruel. But because it’s honest.

Before Ever can think of a response, before she can reach for that casual bravado she usually hides behind—

Click.

The sound of a door. Small. But it shatters the fragile stillness like glass.

Rose tenses, but doesn’t let go of her hand.

Footsteps approach. Quick. Hesitant.

Then the door opens fully.

A boy steps in.

At first, all Ever sees is motion—damp hair, uneven breaths, tension in his shoulders.

Then it clicks.

Caleb.

His deep indigo eyes dart from Rose to her, wide and searching. His purple hair is matted to his skin, still damp like he came from the same tank, the same nightmare. His clothes are the same sterile white. His hands twitch at his sides, unsure if they’re allowed to reach.

Rose breathes out. Not quite relief. But something close.

“…Caleb.”

The name is a thread, tugging something loose inside her.

Rose moves fast.

The bed shifts, and Ever's hand stretches outward as Rose pushes off and crosses the room in two strides. She doesn’t hesitate—just wraps both arms around him like she needs to prove he’s real.

Except—she doesn’t let go of Ever's hand.

Their fingers stay locked across the space between them. Even as Rose clings to him, she keeps that anchor.

Like she can’t bear to lose either of them.

Caleb stands there for a beat—frozen, startled—before wrapping an arm around her, tentative at first, then firmer.

“I was looking for you both,” he murmurs. “They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

His voice is hoarse. Ragged. He sounds like he hasn’t slept in days.

Ever watches them. Their joined hands. The way Rose trembles, but doesn’t break.

She knows him.

Not just from before.

From dreams. From flickers. From pieces.

She doesn’t know if that makes her feel better.

But for the first time since she woke up, she knows she isn’t alone.

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Notes

Yeahh... Not as fluffy but it's necessary! God, I start to sound like my friend..... Imma just ignore that.... For anyone that is interested for more, I'm putting this story in Ao3! :)

[stepswowdsen]

【KagePro】 Kuroha/Saeru Rambles + KuroEne AU Route Set-up (WIP)

Intro

WIP version post for now.

I think I have a post queued for later today or tomorrow 🤔

Depends on when I get it done, but I think it'll most likely be posted by tonight for me. I'll post the proper post whenever I get it done ^^

I think it'll be formatted like this.

Summary

Kuroha/Saeru's Pronouns (First-person and Second-person pronouns in Japanese)

Yakuwarigo (Role Language)

KuroEne AU: Route Set-up (Summary)

KuroEne AU: Saeru's pet name for Ene (HC)

Saeru's Knowledge (HC)

A being that exists as part of nature

Kuroha/Saeru's Pronouns

I wrote them down as a list in my Notion doc files, but I just want to confirm my list is correct, first.

I wanna rip the rest of the KagePro manga scans in JP, just so I can check over MR1 and MR2 and confirm his usage of pronouns first.

Yakuwarigo (Role Language)

Yakuwarigo (役割語, lit. “Role language”) refers to fictional characters' dialects.

I'll provide a quick overview and some context first ^^

KuroEne AU: Route Set-up (Summary)

I think I've rambled about it a lot before, but I wanted to make a post summarizing the set-up and context of my KuroEne AU, and note some common Route branches (depending on Saeru's actions)

In my KuroEne AU, Kuroha/Saeru meets Ene anywhere from 1 - 2 years prior to the start of KagePro canon.

Ene finds Shintaro 1 year prior to the start of KagePro canon.

I usually write settings where he meets Ene 2 years prior to the start of canon (soon after she lost her human body)

Since at that point, Ene hasn't found Shintaro yet, and would still be looking for a place to stay, so that's the perfect opportunity for Saeru to offer her a place to stay.

Saeru drops Kenjirou's body MUCH earlier in my KuroEne AU in order to meet Ene as Black Konoha.

Discarding Kenjirou at this point isn't an issue in the slightest for him.

He can just use Awakening Eyes as Black Konoha, to create as many fake identities as he wants.

So, he can still manipulate humans to get access to funding and resources by taking Kenjirou's appearance (and any other fake identities he decides to create)

His secret underground lab (that he got built via Kenjirou's connections) has improved security in my KuroEne AU (compared to MCA lmfao)

The underground/lower levels are only accessible to him with a biometric scanner, via his finger prints.

He takes the disguise of Kenjirou when communicating with the humans in his lab (ex. guards/security on the upper levels), and then turns back into Black Konoha when he's down in the lower levels.

I imagine that he does most of his research and keeps his notes/journals on the creation of Ene's android body (ex. blueprints, designs, sketches, notes, etc.) in the lowest levels of his lab, to ensure that no one but him can access it.

Saeru decides to arranges a meeting with Ene.

I imagine he manages to find/get her general location (which shouldn't be difficult, he probably has methods to tap someone's location)

Though Ene hasn't met Shintaro yet so she's moving from place to place in the cyber world.

He sends her an e-mail arranging for a meet-up.

I HC that he uses "xxx" as his initials ❌❌❌

Coincidentally, Azami's favourite initials in her diary were "xxx" so I imagine that's also one of the reasons why he has a tendency to use it.

Ene wonders about the e-mail she got from a mysterious sender.

On the day of their meet-up, I imagine that Ene is out in the city (in electronic devices, since Iirc she can connect as long as there's Wi-Fi), when he decides to appear in her general vicinity, prompting her to follow him.

Ene is surprised when she sees his figure in the distance. He looks just like Haruka/Konoha.

Saeru then heads to an isolated/secluded location (abandoned building), once he's confirmed that Ene is following him.

Ene jumps through electronic devices so that she can follow him.

She cannot afford to let the chance escape her, especially after seeing someone who has such an uncanny resemblance to Haruka/Konoha's appearance...

To make up for her regrets from last time, she doesn't want to let him out of her sight again.

Once he's confirmed that no one else is around, Kuroha/Saeru then makes himself known to her and introduces himself as "Black Konoha" or "Kuroha"

"Hello... I do believe this is the first time we've met?"

(This is the first time in this Route... but not the first time ever (considering all previous Routes))

In future Routes (all other Routes after the first KuroEne AU Route), he remembers and uses the nickname "Kuroha" that he remembers Ene using before, to shorten the name.

He asks her if she really is living in electronic devices, and Ene is suspicious, but confirms his statement. She is curious about him, though.

Ene is suspicious of this mysterious stranger offering to help her so suddenly, but is curious about him, since his appearance and voice resembles Haruka/Konoha's... She can't let the chance escape her!

He comments on her unusual predicament of being stuck inside the cyber world, and says that he can help her. He proposes to make an android body for her so that she can move around in the real world.

Ene is surprised, but wonders if he has any ulterior motives for offering to go out of this way for her, and asks if he's some kinda loan shark or a shady scientist who wants to experiment on her.

Saeru tells her that he's a brilliant scientist/engineer (LOL) who wants to tests the bounds of his knowledge. The truth is, he is interested in her.

He tells her he is nterested in learning more about her and her predicament.

He would also make reasonable enough claims to back up his offer and appease her worries. He says that he is entirely willing to prove it to her, to gain her trust.

He's not looking for money. He has enough of it, as is.

Ene decides to accept his offer, so Saeru has Ene transferred into his phone, and brings her to his home (one of Kenjirou's spare homes that he has access to) to stay.

Saeru works on the android body at his lab, and comes home to chat with Ene to get to know her and talk about his progress (while leaving some details out, ofc)

Once Saeru finishes making the body and finalizes his tests, he brings Ene to the lab via his phone and asks if she can transfer into it via the systems he built, wanting to confirm if it works.

Once it's ready, Ene is surprised how fast he got it done and asks if he's some kind of super genius or something. It's still shocking.

(With each new Route, I imagine he gets the android body built faster and better each time, since he remembers how to make it and makes upgrades based on his previous knowledge.)

(I will leave the details of whatever complicated systems Saeru built, to him... I know nothing about robotics)

I imagine that Ene transfers into the android body's motherboard (since it has a Wi-Fi connection), and can control the body's motor controls seamlessly, with whatever complicated systems/processes Saeru built

She's surprised when it feels just like her old human body.

Saeru is satisfied that his efforts and meticulous testing have paid off. It works, just as planned...

Ene is grateful for his efforts and expresses her appreciation to him for going all this way for her. She says she doesn't know how to repay him.

She then realizes that she doesn't really have a place to stay.

Saeru then calmly tells her that she can come live with him if she wants. He proposes to her to come live with him at one of his spare homes.

Ene says she wouldn't want to intrude on someone's private home, but he tells her that he doesn't mind.

Ene asks if there are spare rooms she can stay in, and he tells her that his home is spacious enough to have guest rooms, and Ene feels relieved.

Ene then decides to accept his offer, and tells him, "Please take good care of me."

Note: よろしくお願いします (Yoroshiku onegaishimasu, "Please treat me well/take care of me")

When Saeru shows her around his private home, Ene says she missed the feeling of being out in the real world, and is surprised how spacious his home is. He then tells her if he needs anything, then just ask.

Ene muses to herself that he is completely different from Haruka/Konoha, but that's fine, since she's changed since then, too.

I imagine Ene often takes the opportunity to go out on walks exploring the city on her own, and comes back to the house when she's done.

Saeru often goes out of the house on his own to work at the lab (and takes disguises as his fake identities to continue amassing money and resources to prepare for his August 15th plan)

He comes back to the house after "work" and chats with Ene about his progress (ex. Improving her android body), obviously keeping his real motives and secrets of his plans hidden.

KuroEne AU: Route Branches

I have a couple different Route branches depending on Saeru's actions.

The main ones are:

(Copy pasting this from previous rambles)

As long as it's in a Route where he doesn't meet the rest of the Mekakushi Dan until August 15th, Saeru can reveal his true name.

Once he gets closer with Ene, he can reveal the name Saeru ("Clearing") to her, and vaguely tell her about the Eye Abilities' origins (while keeping Azami's identity hidden)

He tells her that he has some origins with snakes, and is an Eye Ability user like her, that can transform his body at will (Awakening's power)

Ene is surprised but figures that it's not too out of the realm of possibility since she also has these "Red Eyes." She accepts his story and is impressed by his powers. She's delighted to find someone who is in the "same predicament as her."

KuroEne AU: Kuroha/Saeru's pet name for Ene 🐍🐇

I headcanoned what Kuroha/Saeru's pet name for Ene would be in my KuroEne AU

俺の親愛なるウサギちゃん (Ore no shin’ai naru Usagi-chan, “My dear/beloved [little] bunny/rabbit”)

Quoting from my Notion docs:

I chose "My dear little bunny/rabbit" or 俺の親愛なるウサギちゃん (Ore no shin'ai naru Usagi-chan; "[My] dear/beloved [little] bunny/rabbit") as Kuroha's nickname/pet name for Ene because her twintails look like bunny ears.

But his chosen nickname is definitely on purpose on his part, because bunnies are the prey of snakes, and he is the predator animal. So it still ends up playing up to his ego.

I really like that it ends up playing to the "Predator and Prey" and "Hunter and Hunted" theme-ing between Saeru and his S/O.

Iirc the usage of 親愛なる (Shin'ai naru) originated from the Meiji era so its origins are archaic, and is mainly used in letters and texts, and rarely in real conversation.

Though you'll see some animanga and game charas use it. I think it's perfect for Saeru considering his origins as an ancient being.

Saeru's Knowledge

Since Saeru is the embodiment of Azami's "knowledge/wisdom," and, according to the Novel Route, "knows everything from the start of civilization up to modern science"

That is insane to think about... That is an insane amount of knowledge.

I started wondering about how much that knowledge encompasses/entails, whether it includes things like languages.

Like he must be able to read and write in the ancient script that Azami wrote in in her journals

Iirc, in MR2, Ayaka was surprised that she was somehow able to read it when she went through Mary's belongings (which contained Azami's diary)

Does he only know things he’s seen and personally witnessed?

I have a personal HC that if he's seen it, then he knows it.

For example, Saeru possesses Kenjirou in most Routes, and must've seen him code before (ex. Kenjirou made HaruTaka's game for the school festival)

His accumulated knowledge and retention of previous Routes (timelines), is how he’s able to build Ene’s android body in my AU.

With that much knowledge at his disposal, his capabilities far surpass human technologies and limits.

I imagine that every time, he remembers the code since it's stored in his metaphorical knowledge bank

So he remembers how to code all the processes needed for Ene's body and enhances her body with upgrades/improvements and adds new features to it to suit his desires with every loop (ex. Battery improvements/upgrades so Ene can be out in the real world for longer without the body needing to charge as often)

In the context of this AU, Ene's body is his greatest creation.

So he must be able to do it too. With that much knowledge, picking up new skills must come naturally to him then.

In canon, we don't know how "clear" his retention of memories is, through Clearing Eyes.

I personally headcanoned that he keeps his memories and can remember specific encounters from previous Routes in detail.

Because to me, it just makes his interactions with Ene more interesting if he remembers their previous encounters and intimate moments together from previous Routes.

I'd imagine later on he'd just bring up those encounters just to tease her.

Being that exists as part of nature

In the KagePro manga, Kuroha looks over the city from a rooftop and comments on the “muddy dirt stained (polluted) sky” and “humans spreading their greed wherever they go.”

He asks Konoha if he agrees with him after taking over his body. Since they're both Eye Ability snakes born from Azami, he calls him 兄弟 (Kyoudai, "Brother; mate; friend"), seeing him as fellow brethren.

As someone who was there before the world was created, and observed the world from the very beginning and got to see it develop to the modern age, as a being who is close to Nature...

Of course canon-verse Kuroha/Saeru would feel that way about pollution, as an animal, a being who lived as apart of/alongside Nature, alongside Azami.

But he also loves humans and their foolishness. Humans are also beings/animals who exist as part of nature, too, after all.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

... A Thousand Words: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary: A man commits suicide and leaves behind tattoos that tell a story about the victims he's killed, and the one that's still alive.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"How's Reid doing?" Derek asks.

"It doesn't even seem to faze him. He's just sitting there in the corner turning pages. Have I told you how in love I am with him?"

"You don't have to say it," Emily chuckles.

"I told Pen to send you a list of tattoo parlors in Tallahassee that might recognize this work," you say to Rossi.

His phone pings and he looks at it. "Just got them." He looks at Emily. "Want to check these out with me?"

"Sounds fun," she nods.

Both of them take a company car and leave. Hotch returns to the group.

"I got a few more hours out of the media," Jj says.

"We'll take what we can get."

"Prentiss and Rossi are going to check out some tattoo parlors." John is off to the side shaking his head and sighing. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah."

"Did you ask him about calling her Becky?" you chuckle.

"He'll be alright."

"I hope so because we still have no indication that this girl's even alive."

The coroner's office comes and takes the body away in a body bag since they need to process it. You watch them take it away with Derek and John.

"Are you sure it's okay to move the body?" John asks.

"There's no reason not to anymore. We've seen this guy's show."

"Have you seen anything like this before?"

"Like what?"

"Everything. The suicide, the clippings, and the journals?"

"I think it's pretty safe to say that no one's ever seen anything like this," Derek answers.

One of the tattoo artists, once he saw the pictures of the art, compared it to 'The Illustrated Man', the book Spencer mentioned earlier. The man didn't recognize the artist who did the work but knew the art had been free-handed. Free-hand portraits are gnarly to do on skin and don't always come out the way they want it to, but this artist did a damn good job at it. All the portraits look the same in the sense that the same artist did all of them, but they weren't done at the same time because some of them were faded and others looked newer.

The tattoo artist took one look at the rose on the dead man's arm and knew immediately that it didn't fit. There had been something underneath it and the rose was just a cover-up. He could tell that a cross had been underneath it because whoever did the rose didn't do it very well. Only pieces done that shitty must have been done in prison meaning the unsub did time. It would explain why a fifty-year-old didn't start killing until he was forty, and why rapists become killers after they've been in prison. They learn not to leave a witness.

The blank spot on the dead man's back not only represents 'The Illustrated Man' but it makes him exactly like him... the movie version of him. In the movie, there is an open spot on the man's back so people can see the future.

"Rossi and Prentiss think he may have done time, and that one of the tattoos may have been done in prison," Hotch says.

"I wouldn't doubt that," you scoff.

"I've got Garcia running everything through the biometrics database." Hotch sees the confusion on John's face and explains. "It catalogs all the prison inmates and their tattoos. They have detailed photos of everyone on every inmate."

"No, no, no, no," Spencer mutters and jumps up from his spot. "Guys? That blank spot isn't the only one he has."

"What do you mean?"

"He talks about the blank space where we assumed Rebecca's portrait would go. He talks about how once he fills that spot, the artwork will be complete. It's not the only blank space, is it? He has the one on his back in the middle of the tree branches. Why would he talk about completing the artwork when he hasn't? I need to see the body again."

"I'll go with you," you say.

"I'll call the ME and let him know you're on your way," Hotch says.

While you're on your way to the ME's office, you learn that Penelope has been a busy bee. She ran the covered tattoo through the biometrics database where it analyzed color, design, and texture. There's a ninety-five percent chance that it's from one of the four major institutions in the Northeastern prison system. The string of missing women began in 2000, so she went back from that year and found fifty-three similar tattoos on forearms like what your dead guy has. Of those fifty-three, ten were released prior to 2000. Of the ten, four are convicted rapists. Of the four, none of them trace back to Tallahassee. When given the name Bob, Penelope found a man named Robert Matthew Burke who was convicted in 1991 for eight years of rape and was then released in October 1999. The women went missing at the start of 2000.

John immediately recognized the name as soon as he heard it. Robert was a registered sex offender who was an ex-con out of Virginia. He got a traffic ticket near FSU the night Rebecca disappeared. John went to his apartment to question him about Rebecca but he could never find him. John finally got a hold of him on the phone and asked if he could come down and do a DNA swab and an interview on Monday.

That's what changed. He knew it was a matter of time before John caught up to him. He wasn't about to go back to prison so he killed himself.

You and Spencer arrive at the ME's office and are taken to the main room where Robert's body is. You and Spencer both put on gloves so that you can touch the body without ruining anything for the police. Spencer runs his fingers across his back with a frown.

"If these tattoos are a fetish, what enjoyment does he get out of the ones on his back? He can't even see them," you say.

"There's something here. I can feel the raised ink." You touch where Spencer is touching and feel the skin raised as if there is ink there but you can't see it. "Do you have a black light scanner?"

"Sure."

"I've read about this. Tattoos are put on with invisible ink so that no one can see them." He grabs the scanner from the ME and runs it across the back slowly. Invisible ink now shows itself. There are lines intertwining through the portraits and the tree branches. Once the ME turns off the lights, you can see them much better. "Oh, man. Look, there's one over here, too."

"They lead to the blank spot. Look over there," you say.

"What is that?" Spencer asks.

"It's an embryo in a womb. The partner is a woman and she's having a baby. I'm assuming his baby." Spencer continues to look at the invisible ink while you call Hotch. "Hey, Robert has invisible ink on him. Turns out the blank spot on his back isn't blank. It's an embryo. He's having a baby with his partner, a woman."

"Do we know if she has the baby yet?"

"The tattoos have dates, the embryo doesn't."

"Dating is prominent in the tattoos and the journals, and they're calendrical in their abductions. It's hard to believe their baby's birthdate wouldn't be exceedingly important to them," Spencer says while you hold out the phone to him.

"She's probably still pregnant," Hotch says when you place the phone to your ear. "We found out where he lives but it's not a place where he'd keep women for a whole year. This partner must have a house. Get back here. We need to update the profile and narrow the search."

You and Spencer finish what you're doing and head back to the cabin.

"The partner being pregnant can help us. We should have Garcia try and find her through doctor visits or medical records," Derek suggests.

"I don't think there would be," you say. "He basically lived off the grid which means she did, too. Judging by the photographs of what they did to the victims, it's safe to say they live in isolation."

"We've seen his hatred for women, and yet he teams up with her. What kind of woman could change him?" Hotch asks.

"Maybe they met in prison?"

"No, Garcia already went through all of that. He had no female visitors," Emily says.

"What about prison staff, doctors, and religious volunteers?"

"No. We went through a long list of all the vendors who were there during his incarceration. None of them resurfaced in Tallahassee."

"What kind of a woman would go to prison to fall in love with a rapist?" John asks.

"Someone vulnerable, emotionally fragile, and drawn to violent men. Someone in her life made her that way. It's a classic abuse cycle. What if that's who she was there to visit?" you ask.

"It's worth a try." Emily takes out her phone and calls Penelope, placing her on speakerphone. "Hey, you know the visitor logs from the prison we looked at?"

"Yeah, I still have them right here."

"I need you to check the dates for me. Were there any women who visited another inmate while Burke was there but then suddenly stopped visiting when Burke was released?"

"Give me one second while I look." She pauses. "Juliet Monroe went to visit her father in prison once or twice a year from '92 to '95."

"What was he in for?"

"Rape and she was his primary victim."

"He raped her and she still went to visit him every year?" John asks.

You think back to your rapist and how if he was in jail, you'd be perfectly fine to let him rot. You can't imagine wanting to visit your rapist in jail, family or not.

"She's repeating the cycle she grew up with," Rossi says.

"Yeah, she went from visiting him once or twice a year to once a month from '95 to '97. That's when Burke was serving his time for rape. Then she increased her visits to once a week all through '98 and '99 until they stopped completely in October of that year. That's when he was released. She owns a house in Northern Florida."

"Garica, get us that address."

As soon as it was sent over, your entire team headed over there with John and his team. You don't have to step foot inside to know there is a child inside the house and a dead woman.

"There is a dead woman inside the house," you say. "I can feel it. There's also a child. I'm thinking Juliet had her baby."

Where there is a door, officers and agents enter through them. The sound of a baby crying reaches your ears the second you step foot into the house.

"In here!" Someone is in the far back room but you have to clear the other rooms before you can get there. "Please, help me! In here!"

You make it to the back room and see Rebecca chained to the ground by her neck with a baby in her hand. On the mattress in the corner is Juliet limp and cold. She is dead. She must have died giving birth. Rebecca is a crying mess and stuttering so badly that she can't get a single word out.

"Give me the baby," you say and put your gun away. "It's okay, give me the baby." You take the baby from her arms so she can get help. John moves in as soon as she is cleared. "Hi, sweetheart. You're going to be okay."

"Becky, are you okay?" John asks.

"I just want to go home. I just want to go home," she cries.

"Yeah, you're going home, honey. You're going home. It's okay."

Paramedics come and look over Rebecca and the baby. The unsubs are dead but Rebecca is saved as well as the baby. His parents are monsters but that doesn't mean he has to be. You hope he goes to a good home with loving parents. While on the plane ride home, Emily and Spencer are playing a game of poker to pass the time. You and Emily are on one side of the table and Spencer sits across from you.

"Three cards, please," Emily asks.

"Three cards for the lady." Spencer passes them out to her. "I'm going to take one card."

You look at her hand to see her have three Jacks and three threes. That's a tough hand to beat. You look at Spencer with a poker face. You'd never give her hand away.

"One card? A straight or a flush, Dr. Reid. What are you trying to fill in?"

"Well, considering the odds of filling in an open-ended straight with one card are five-to-one against, while a one-card flush draw is more like four-point-five-to-one. I guess you'd say if I was smart, I'm drawing to a flush. Hmm. I think I'm gonna go all in on this."

Spencer slides all of his pretzels into the middle of the pile. Instead of money, they're trading snacks. Emily nods and slides all of her peanuts into the pile. Both of them are all in. Derek comes over with one earbud in his ear, interested in how the game is going to end.

"So, are you?" Emily asks.

"Am I drawing to a flush, or am I smart?"

"Either," she shrugs.

"Well, I'm... I'm a genius, but actually, I was drawing a full house." He lays his cards down. "Eights over sixes."

"I always forget you're from Vegas," she sighs.

"Yup."

He reaches for the pile and starts to pull it toward him but she stops him.

"Ooh, I'm sorry, not so fast. I, too, have a boat." She lays her cards down. "Jacks over threes."

The look on Spencer's face almost has you laughing.

"You drew three cards to a full house? That's like a hundred-to-one against."

"Ninety-seven-to-one. Looks like you're out."

She pulls the snacks in toward her. Spencer grabs the cards with a frown and tries to figure out how the hell he lost.

"Hey, Prentiss. Sin to win?"

You and Prentiss look at each other with a smirk. You shift in your seat and look at Derek who looks desperate for an answer.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Come on, now, I gotta know. What the hell is a sin-to-win weekend in Atlantic City?"

"Derek," she sighs, "I have a tremendous amount of respect for you, but there are some questions that if you have to ask them, it means you probably couldn't handle the answer."

She gets up and leaves the table with a smirk.

"There is a whole other side to that woman," Derek chuckles and sits back down to do his own thing.

"I never lose," Spencer frowns.

"You've lost against me," you chuckle and move to sit directly in front of him.

He keeps looking at the cards without looking at you.

"You use your body to distract me. That's cheating."

You giggle. "Then let's go for another round right here right now. I can't exactly 'use my body to cheat' now can I?"

"Fine." Spencer pauses. "No feet stuff."

"I can win without even touching you."

There is a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He loves a challenge.

"Wanna bet?"

"What do I get if I win?" you grin.

"I'll read that book you want me to read about that stalker who chases you through the woods."

Your eyes light up. You've been wanting him to read your dirty books in hopes he might recreate some of the scenes.

"What if you win?" you ask.

"You have to come with me to see that Russian film I've been wanting you to see."

"Deal," you smirk.

Spencer shuffles the cards and passes them out to you and him. Let the games begin.

"I have seen children successfully surmount the effects of an evil inheritance. That is due to purity being an inherent attribute of the soul." - Mohandas Gandhi

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[darkmaga-returns]

Starshield satellites can operate as a swarm in low orbits, offering the most pervasive real-time surveillance of human beings in history. These ‘low orbit satellite swarms’ are what we call drones.

Karen Kingston

Dec 27, 2024

December 27, 2024: With the recent news buzz about the unverified drones hovering over towns and military bases throughout the United States, I believe this March 2024 Kingston Report on Elon Musk’s Starshield Global Surveillance drone system may present an alternative hypothesis as to what the drones are, and who they belong to.

March 18, 2024: On December 19, 2017, the Wall Street Journal published an article entitle, “How China’s Surveillance State Overwhelms Daily Life.” The article details how the Chinese government turned Xianjing, China into a, “…remote laboratory for its high-tech social controls. Security checkpoints with identification scanners guard the train station and roads in and out of town. Facial scanners track comings and goings at hotels, shopping malls and banks...”

Not only are China’s 24-hours-a-day, 7-days-a-week (24/7) surveillance policies and technologies highly invasive, many western nations consider the use of these surveillance systems as a violation of human rights. In August of 2022, a U.N. High Commissioner for human rights found that China’s policies on religion, biometric surveillance (i.e. public facial recognition cameras), DNA surveillance (human identification kits), criminal medical experimentation, and the overall 24/7 police surveillance of Xiangjiang residents were human rights violations, and in some cases, crimes against humanity.

Unfortunately for global citizens, a highly-advanced 24/7 surveillance system is currently being deployed on civilians in the United States of America and in other nations around the globe.

[compneuropapers]

Interesting Papers for Week 23, 2025

Exploring replay. Antonov, G., & Dayan, P. (2025). Nature Communications, 16, 1657.

Excitation-Inhibition Balance Controls Information Encoding in Neural Populations. Barzon, G., Busiello, D. M., & Nicoletti, G. (2025). Physical Review Letters, 134(6), 068403.

Persistent effects of salience in visual working memory: Limits of cue-driven guidance. Constant, M., & Kerzel, D. (2025). Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human Perception and Performance, 51(2), 153–163.

Prediction of intrinsic and extraneous cognitive load with oculometric and biometric indicators. Ekin, M., Krejtz, K., Duarte, C., Duchowski, A. T., & Krejtz, I. (2025). Scientific Reports, 15, 5213.

Electrophysiological signatures of the effect of context on exploration: Greater attentional and learning signals when exploration is costly. Ferguson, T. D., Fyshe, A., & White, A. (2025). Brain Research, 1851, 149471.

Normative and informational confidence matching. Friedemann, M., Bang, D., & Yeung, N. (2025). Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 154(3), 759–774.

Goals bias face perception. Hu, Y.-F., Heffner, J., Bhandari, A., & FeldmanHall, O. (2025). Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 154(3), 644–657.

A systems model of alternating theta sweeps via firing rate adaptation. Ji, Z., Chu, T., Wu, S., & Burgess, N. (2025). Current Biology, 35(4), 709-722.e5.

Perceived Multisensory Common Cause Relations Shape the Ventriloquism Effect but Only Marginally the Trial‐Wise Aftereffect. Kayser, C., & Heuer, H. (2025). European Journal of Neuroscience, 61(3).

Atypical hippocampal excitatory neurons express and govern object memory. Kinman, A. I., Merryweather, D. N., Erwin, S. R., Campbell, R. E., Sullivan, K. E., Kraus, L., Kapustina, M., Bristow, B. N., Zhang, M. Y., Elder, M. W., Wood, S. C., Tarik, A., Kim, E., Tindall, J., Daniels, W., Anwer, M., Guo, C., & Cembrowski, M. S. (2025). Nature Communications, 16, 1195.

Visual simulation and subjective probability estimation: When seeing is believing. Kirshner, S. N. (2025). Decision, 12(1), 31–42.

Recurring suboptimal choices result in superior decision making. Mondal, S., Lenda, D., & Traczyk, J. (2025). Decision, 12(1), 63–91.

A non-Hebbian code for episodic memory. Pang, R., & Recanatesi, S. (2025). Science Advances, 11(8).

Reinstatement and transformation of memory traces for recognition. Rau, E. M. B., Fellner, M.-C., Heinen, R., Zhang, H., Yin, Q., Vahidi, P., Kobelt, M., Asano, E., Kim-McManus, O., Sattar, S., Lin, J. J., Auguste, K. I., Chang, E. F., King-Stephens, D., Weber, P. B., Laxer, K. D., Knight, R. T., Johnson, E. L., Ofen, N., & Axmacher, N. (2025). Science Advances, 11(8).

Action consequences guide the use of visual working memory. Sahakian, A., Gayet, S., Paffen, C. L. E., & Van der Stigchel, S. (2025). Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 51(1), 4–13.

Orthogonal neural representations support perceptual judgments of natural stimuli. Srinath, R., Ni, A. M., Marucci, C., Cohen, M. R., & Brainard, D. H. (2025). Scientific Reports, 15, 5316.

Higher order affordances. Stoffregen, T. A., & Wagman, J. B. (2025). Psychonomic Bulletin & Review, 32(1), 1–30.

Memory modeling of counterfactual generation. Wang, F., Aka, A., He, L., & Bhatia, S. (2025). Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition, 51(2), 255–284.

Latent memory traces for prospective items in visual working memory. Xu, L., Sahakian, A., Gayet, S., Paffen, C. L. E., & Van der Stigchel, S. (2025). Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human Perception and Performance, 51(2), 164–177.

Rational choices elicit stronger sense of agency in brain and behavior. Yavuz, M., Bonicalzi, S., Schmitz, L., Battich, L., Esmaily, J., & Deroy, O. (2025). Cognition, 257, 106062.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Abstract

Hand-grip strength has been identified as one limiting factor for manual lifting and carrying loads. To obtain epidemiologically relevant hand-grip strength data for pre-employment screening, we determined maximal isometric hand-grip strength in 1,654 healthy men and 533 healthy women aged 20–25 years. Moreover, to assess the potential margins for improvement in hand-grip strength of women by training, we studied 60 highly trained elite female athletes from sports known to require high hand-grip forces (judo, handball). Maximal isometric hand-grip force was recorded over 15 s using a handheld hand-grip ergometer. Biometric parameters included lean body mass (LBM) and hand dimensions. Mean maximal hand-grip strength showed the expected clear difference between men (541 N) and women (329 N). Less expected was the gender related distribution of hand-grip strength: 90% of females produced less force than 95% of males. Though female athletes were significantly stronger (444 N) than their untrained female counterparts, this value corresponded to only the 25th percentile of the male subjects. Hand-grip strength was linearly correlated with LBM. Furthermore, both relative hand-grip strength parameters (F max/body weight and F max/LBM) did not show any correlation to hand dimensions. The present findings show that the differences in hand-grip strength of men and women are larger than previously reported. An appreciable difference still remains when using lean body mass as reference. The results of female national elite athletes even indicate that the strength level attainable by extremely high training will rarely surpass the 50th percentile of untrained or not specifically trained men.

[heppimate]

Instagram Face: Why Everyone Is Starting to Look the Same?

Let’s play a game. Open Instagram. Scroll five selfies. I bet at least three of them look eerily similar: High cheekbones. Snatched jawline. Pouty lips. Smooth glassy skin. Catlike almond eyes. Perfectly arched brows.

Congrats! you’ve just spotted the “Instagram Face.” It’s beautiful. It’s flawless. It’s also... everywhere ;( But how did we get here? Why are different people, across cultures and continents, chasing the same face? Let’s filter this out 🧠

Filtered Reality, Literally

As Rettberg (2014) explains, filters don’t just tweak your lighting: they reshape your reality. Instagram and Snapchat filters nudge users toward aesthetic norms that the algorithm (and culture) favors: thinner noses, bigger eyes, and smoother skin. Over time, users internalize these enhancements as the new baseline.

You’re not just beautifying. You’re editing yourself into the algorithm’s idea of hot. And when millions of people do the same thing? Boom: beauty homogenization.

From FaceTune to Facelift

Enter Coy-Dibley’s (2016) idea of digitized dysmorphia - where people become obsessed with their filtered face to the point they want to look like it IRL. Think: fillers, buccal fat removal, and the rise of “Snapchat dysmorphia.”

TikTok’s “Bold Glamour” filter sparked a wave of creators saying, “Why don’t I look like this in real life?” You don’t... because no one does.

If Everyone’s Hot, Then Who’s Boring?

The "Instagram Face" creates an illusion of diversity while reinforcing a singular, Westernized beauty ideal. Coy-Dibley (2016) and Rettberg (2017) both point out how platforms offer a “menu” of desirable traits, but the defaults tend to align with whiteness, thinness, and femininity. It’s not just aesthetic - it’s political. Filters erase features, flatten cultural identity, and promote beauty colonialism in digital form.

Software Literacy: Know Your Filter

If we don’t understand how filters shape our self-image, we can’t resist them. This is where software literacy and digital citizenship come in. Choi & Cristol (2021) argue that being a good digital citizen means being critical of the tools we use - especially the ones that quietly train us to hate our unfiltered selves.

Final Thought

Instagram Face didn’t just “happen.” It was built, coded, tested, and normalized. And while filters can be fun and creative, they’re also ideological machines, shaping how we see beauty - and ourselves.

So next time you reach for that beauty filter, ask yourself: Are you enhancing… or erasing?

Seen any wild “Instagram Face” trends lately? Or have a favorite creator who keeps it beautifully unfiltered? Drop it in the tags. Let’s celebrate faces that aren’t factory settings.

References

Choi, M., & Cristol, D. (2021). Digital citizenship with intersectionality lens: Towards participatory democracy driven digital citizenship education. Theory Into Practice, 60(4), 361–370. https://doi.org/10.1080/00405841.2021.1987094

Coy-Dibley, I. (2016). ‘Digitized dysmorphia of the female body: The re/disfigurement of the image’. Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies, 30(2), 126–138. https://doi.org/10.1080/10304312.2016.1141868

Rettberg, J. W. (2014). Seeing Ourselves Through Technology: How We Use Selfies, Blogs and Wearable Devices to See and Shape Ourselves. Palgrave Macmillan.

Rettberg, J. W. (2017). Biometric citizens. In A. T. Kenney, M. D. Witmer, & A. J. Tinkcom (Eds.), Theories of the Mobile Internet (pp. 123–138). Routledge.

[sonicresonanceai]

Struggling with fatigue, joint pain, or mood swings as you age?

The Future of Andropause Care

 Introduction

Andropause—the often-overlooked hormonal shift in men—isn’t just about low testosterone. It’s a cascade of challenges: joint pain, diabetes risk, and emotional fatigue. In my  Video, I merge ancient healing rhythms with 21st-century science to tackle these symptoms head-on. Below, I unpack the research, therapies, and actionable steps to reclaim vitality.

The Andropause Crisis

By age 40, testosterone drops 1-2% yearly, triggering: 🩸 Inflammation: Linked to osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis (NIH research). 🧠 Cognitive Fog: Impaired focus and mood swings. 💪 Muscle Loss: Sarcopenia worsens knee/joint issues.

Traditional fixes (HRT, painkillers) often ignore the mind-body connection. That’s where music therapy—supercharged by AI—steps in.

AI + Piano: Your Personalized Antidote to Aging Why Music Therapy Works 🎵 Stress Reduction: Slow-tempo piano lowers cortisol by 25% (Frontiers in Psychology). 🧠 Neuroplasticity: Algorithmic beats boost dopamine, aiding emotional resilience (MIT research).

AI’s Role in Precision Healing

My video’s 32-minute session uses AI to: 1️⃣ Analyze biometrics (heart rate, sleep patterns). 2️⃣ Generate music synced to your body’s needs:

10:00–15:00: Uplifting sequences to combat fatigue.

20:00–25:00: Deep piano for joint pain relief.

Gene Therapy: The Future of Muscle & Joint Repair

Left Channel Therapies (Video Audio Breakdown):

Stamulumab (Minutes 5–10): Blocks myostatin, reversing muscle atrophy (Nature study).

Thymosin Beta-4: Repairs tendon injuries common in knee osteoarthritis.

Right Channel Nutrients (Minutes 15–20):

Curcumin + EGCG: Reduces rheumatoid inflammation by 40%.

Leucine: Stimulates protein synthesis to counter sarcopenia.

4 Steps to Start Your Healing Journey

1️⃣ Try the Video’s AI Session: Experience the 32-minute soundtrack here. 2️⃣ Find a Music Therapist: Search certified pros via American Music Therapy Association. 3️⃣ Explore Gene Options: Consult clinics offering TNF inhibitors or myostatin blockers. 4️⃣ Join My Community: Subscribe for updates on AI music labs and clinical trials.

Key Research & Tools 📚 Music Therapy for Chronic Pain (Journal of Pain Research). 🧬 Gene Editing for Arthritis (Science Translational Medicine). 🎹 Free AI Music Generator: AIVA.

Conclusion Andropause isn’t an endpoint—it’s a new beginning. By pairing algorithmic harmonies with gene science, we’re rewriting aging’s rulebook. Press play on the video, share your story, and let’s build a future where every man thrives.

[thechanelmuse]

My Book Review

"If you're not paying for it, you're the product."

Your Face Belongs to Us is a terrifying yet interesting journey through the world of invasive surveillance, artificial intelligence, facial recognition, and biometric data collection by way of the birth and rise of a company called Clearview AI — a software used by law enforcement and government agencies in the US yet banned in various countries. A database of 75 million images per day.

The writing is easy flowing investigative journalism, but the information (as expected) is...chile 👀. Lawsuits and court cases to boot. This book reads somewhat like one of my favorite books of all-time, How Music Got Free by Stephen Witt (my review's here), in which it delves into the history from birth to present while learning the key players along the way.

Here's an excerpt that keeps you seated for this wild ride:

“I was in a hotel room in Switzerland, six months pregnant, when I got the email. It was the end of a long day and I was tired but the email gave me a jolt. My source had unearthed a legal memo marked “Privileged & Confidential” in which a lawyer for Clearview had said that the company had scraped billions of photos from the public web, including social media sites such as Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn, to create a revolutionary app. Give Clearview a photo of a random person on the street, and it would spit back all the places on the internet where it had spotted their face, potentially revealing not just their name but other personal details about their life. The company was selling this superpower to police departments around the country but trying to keep its existence a secret.”

[aetherceuse]

⟢ - Structure of the 𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

The 𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 operates as a corporation and trust, funding research for various fields of scientific study through grants. It also engages in many different charitable acts related to the rehabilitation and conservation of endangered Pokémon, especially those native to the islands of Alola.

The corporation was founded by current sitting president and CEO, Lusamine Delacroix, with her husband, Mohn Delacroix, serving as vice president until his disappearance. The pair set out to establish a higher standard for how humans, Pokémon and technology can work with one another, while benefiting the natural ecosystems. Aether works alongside many different organizations throughout, and outside of, Alola.

Fields of Interest

The foundation funds projects, research, innovations and expeditions related, but not limited to, conservation, ecology, biochemistry, physics, epidemiology, genetic engineering, and computer engineering. Scientists and scholars from across the globe often seek out the foundation’s funding, traveling to the Aether Paradise in order to meet with members of the board, and Lusamine herself. There is quite the impressive network of intellects connected to the foundation, and it is not unusual to see the Aether seal stamped onto many peer reviewed journals.

Grants and scholarships for students pursuing careers in STEM are also gifted by the Aether Foundation. Many of these students are then placed into internships at the paradise, or in one of the Aether Houses— and funneled into a permanent position of employment upon graduation. The foundation relies on having the most brilliant, cunning minds involved with their projects, and so they make sure to leave a good impression on the scientific community. It is pretty common to see an Aether representative at any major conference involving STEM, or around university campuses.

Working for the Aether Foundation

Employment with the Aether Foundation ranges across different positions— from field researchers, to chemists, to public relations, and many, many more. Those who work at the Aether Paradise work directly with Aether’s conservation programs, vaccination developments, and technology departments. And the genetics program and UB project, if you’re aware of the horrors.

Gaining employment, however, is no simple task. Lusamine expects an impressive resume, and a mind to match, but if somebody passes the hiring process, it is great job security— as long as they do not disappoint her.

All employees are required to sign a non-disclosure agreement upon being hired. All positions are by contract, and salary paid.

All employees are required to submit their biometrics.

The hierarchy

From highest to lowest:

President

Vice President (currently unoccupied)

Branch Manager

Assistant Branch Manager

Divisional Manager

Assistant Divisional Manager

Office Administration

Lead Associate

Associate

Intern

Scientists and research teams are categorized and ranked based on individual projects and assignments.

Accessing the Aether Paradise

If commuting to work, employees have two options: traveling across the water from one of the islands via Aether-owned ferry service, or by helicopter. The ferry service also carries tourists on public access days, so that they can experience the conservation deck, and tour the island.

Aether offers on-site dorms for those who would rather not commute back and forth all week, and for those who are staying on the artificial for an extended period of time for an assignment.

Security

Security is taken very seriously on the island; Lusamine is incredibly strict about it, and intends on keeping it that way.

All employees are assigned key cards, which are required to access all of the rooms and laboratories on the floors one through three.

All of the laboratories and doors on floor three, and in basements 1, 2 and 3 require a fingerprint and retina scan.

Certain high-security areas require two or three employees to use fingerprint or retina scan in order to unlock the door for access.

Higher ranked foundation members and scientists have a chip implanted in their left wrist, which is used as a “master key” to access everything on the Aether Paradise, along with the locks for the Aether House and research stations.

Basements 1, 2 and 3 have safety laser scanners installed that are programmed to scan every room, laboratory and corridor every fifteen minutes. If a persons whose biometrics have not been logged into Aether’s system is picked upon, an alarm goes off, and all doors are locked. Only Aether security guards, or high ranked foundation members, are capable of unlocking the doors in order to remove the intruder.

ALL points of the Aether Paradise have motion sensing cameras and CCTV streaming.

Aether buildings are known for their monochrome coloring and bright fluorescent lights. This is to prevent employees and visitors from finding dark or secluded corners to hide in, and discourages people from attempting to smuggle Aether property. It also makes it easy for visitors to be picked up on by the security cameras; everybody on staff is wearing all white, so somebody who is wearing even the slightest bit of color stands out.

In the case of an emergency, the Aether Paradise is capable of undergoing full lockdown mode. All incoming boats and aircraft are instructed to return to the mainland, and all outgoing forms of transportation are halted.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

#15yrsago EU Parliament passes copyright term extension, rejects proposal to give the addition funds to artists https://www.openrightsgroup.org/blog/parliament-buckles-copyright-extension-goes-through-to-council-of-ministers/

#10yrsago How science fiction influences thinking about the future https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/how-americas-leading-science-fiction-authors-are-shaping-your-future-180951169/?no-ist

#10yrsago Obama official responsible for copyright chapters of TPP & ACTA gets a job at MPAA; his replacement is another copyright lobbyist https://www.vox.com/2014/4/22/5636466/hollywood-just-hired-another-white-house-trade-official

#10yrsago Having leisure time is now a marker for poverty, not riches https://www.economist.com/finance-and-economics/2014/04/22/nice-work-if-you-can-get-out

#10yrsago Eternal vigilance app for social networks: treating privacy vulnerabilities like other security risks https://freedom-to-tinker.com/2014/04/21/eternal-vigilance-is-a-solvable-technology-problem-a-proposal-for-streamlined-privacy-alerts/ #10yrsago How the Russian surveillance state works https://web.archive.org/web/20140206154124/http://www.worldpolicy.org/journal/fall2013/Russia-surveillance

#5yrsago Political candidate’s kids use his election flyers to fool his laptop’s facial recognition lock https://twitter.com/mattcarthy/status/1120641557886058496

#5yrsago Fool me twice: New York State commutes Charter’s death sentence after Charter promises to stop breaking its promises https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2019/04/charter-avoids-getting-kicked-out-of-new-york-agrees-to-new-merger-conditions/

#5yrsago Greta Thunberg attributes her ability to focus on climate change to her Asperger’s https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKMX8WRw3fc

#5yrsago A Sanders candidacy would make 2020 a referendum on the future, not a referendum on Trump https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2019/apr/22/bernie-sanders-democrats-trump-2020

#5yrsago EU to create 350m person biometric database for borders, migration and law enforcement https://www.zdnet.com/article/eu-votes-to-create-gigantic-biometrics-database/

#1yrsago A Collective Bargain https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

[hum--hallelujah]

all ears and all scars - Danger Days/America's Suitehearts, Dr. Benzedrine & Horseshoe Crab character/relationship study & hurt/comfort

~

There's only so much a silent sandpup like him can do. Understanding only goes so far. In the end, it seems the others always turn to him, as if he has any idea what he's doing. All he knows is that he wants to make life better for them. It's the same thing they all want for each other, isn't it?

Benze wants to make life better by making it safer, offering help where it's needed, making something out of what he's lost. Sandman wants to make life mean something, be it by love or smuggling. Donnie wants to make the harm he's done mean something. Crab just wants to make his friends know that their lives do mean something, already, without any of that.

When Sandman and Donnie go to the races sometimes Crab stays behind. If they're not taking the van, there’s no point. They can’t all ride on Sandman’s bike, anyway. Half the time Crab and Benze stay back, do inventory, bicker silently and make each other crazy trying to read or talk. The fact that Crab’s shit at reading and Benze is shit at signing makes things difficult. But they make it work.

Crab will admit it can be frustrating. Not just that Benze never seems to be able to learn sign, that’s just the way his brain works, or doesn’t work; but that the other see him as someone solid, a fallback. He’s not too much of everything the way Sandman is, or trapped inside himself like Donnie. Benzedrine’s brain is broken. Crab is arguably the most steady of them, but they think he knows what he’s doing. They think it’s on purpose, instead of accidentally stumbling into exactly what he needs to do. He’s fumbling through everything and they don’t even see it.

It’s never bothered him as much as it should that he can’t talk anymore. The wound itself hurt like hell when it happened and it took a long time to get used to it, but it doesn’t cause him grief anymore. He thinks, sitting on a rusty stool in the garage while Benze flips through a medical journal one of their sources had slipped into a shipment as a bonus, humming something under his breath about surgeries and biometrics and cybernetic replacements, that it bothers the others more than it does him.

And oh, Sandman is chill about it. They knew each other as kids, though Crab was never as close with him as Donnie was, but meeting up again as they are now, one of them more jaded and one with vocal cords severed, never seemed to faze him. Most sandpups grow up at least vaguely versed in sign, anyway. But Donnie will never forgive himself, and Benze spent a week after they met trying to avoid him before asking, suddenly, if he could examine the wound. Crab had sat patiently, curiously, while the strange little guy’s hands had probed and pressed at his throat. Benze had apologized, said he wished they’d met sooner. Crab thinks he still regrets that by the time they knew each other it was too late for him to do anything. But Crab doesn’t care.

He waves a hand in the air for way too long before Benze registers the movement. That's how he knows it's bad. When Benze looks over, there's something faintly glazed in his eyes, like the blue has been mixed up in a sandstorm. He's not exactly focused. There's a wildness in his gaze. Not many people clock it, but Benze is a whirlwind. They see the soft roundness of his face, the wide eyes, the complete and utter lack of understanding of how life works in the Zones, the way he struggles with words and language, and think he's an easy target, something fragile. They don't know the heart that beats behind those soft clothes and sunburnt skin.

Benze might be crazy. His brain is definitely broken. He doesn't think the way anyone else does. He doesn't talk straight — tenses change a the time, his words come out in the wrong order, similar sounding words mixed up, syllables misspoken. There's times he gets confused about people's names. His own name, sometimes, even. The things inside his head just don't work right.

"Are you okay?" Crab signs slowly, concentrating on making the movements clear. He's known sign for most of his life but only had to speak in it for two years. His habits are sloppy, hands slurred.

Benze blinks a few times, quickly. "Am I... okay?" He checks, face forming into a quick flash of a frown. Crab nods. "Oh," Benze says. "I'm... thinking but fine?"

Crab doesn't think that's how he meant that sentence to sound. He forms his response off his best guess. Maybe they're always trying to translate each other. "Thinking about what?" There's about a half dozen phrases the two of them can bounce back and forth. They've had some version of his conversation, either out of concern or curiosity, enough times that this, at least, is easy to translate.

Benze takes a pause to process the question. There's an untidy stack of papers in his hand, pages torn from books, dictionaries, zines, anywhere Benze could find them. He looks like if he thinks much harder he's going to drop them. Crab huffs with a smile and leaves his stool behind with a hop, reaches out and takes the sheets from his friend before they slip and cut his hands. Benze might think Sandman is the careless one of the bunch, but Benze hurts himself more often than any other.

"You," Benzedrine mutters faintly, glazed-over eyes squinting upwards at Crab. "The... if I could... you... I want just..." he purses his lips the way he does when he realizes his words are getting all tangled up. "Maybe it's not too late?" he says shrilly, high pitched and hesitant and determined all mixed up.

Crab shakes his head. He sets the papers all down and snags Benze's hands in his own. Benze freezes, any small movement stalling completely as he jerks his eyes down to the contact. He'll let Crab know if it's too much. It always startles him but it isn't usually bad. It always startles Crab how warm his hands are, too. He always expects Benze's hands to be cold to the touch, but they're warm and soft and uncalloused. He wonders idly if Benze would let them paint his nails.

He's not gonna use any words for this. He's too much at a loss for that. He doesn't see his condition as something that needs fixed. But he's stopped being offended by Benzedrine's fixation on it. He's a doctor. He thinks he's supposed to fix things. Crab thinks it might be the only way he knows how to show love. He never knows what to say and he has to let his hands speak for him anyway. Sign isn't the only way to do that. If it all goes wrong they'll figure it out as they go.

He draws one of Benze's hands up and lets it go. Benzedrine's eyes become suddenly clearer as his hand hovers just over the thick, raised scar across his throat. His breathing hitches and his eyes flick to Crab's. "I'm sorry," he whispers. Crab isn't sure if he means for overstepping or for the wound itself. Crab shakes his head again either way.

Benze carefully runs soft fingers over the scar. The feather-light touch almost makes Crab flinch, but instead he leans into it, pressing his neck into Benzedrine's hand. It's an incredibly vulnerable position to be in. A doctor should know that. By the careful steadiness of Benze standing in front of him, straw-colored hair illuminated by ugly solar-rigged fluorescent lights, Benzedrine does.

Crab wonders if Benze can feel the fast, fluttery way his heart is beating. He's out of his depth, so far at a loss. He's trying to do the right thing and terrified it's wrong.

"Your pulse is fast," says Benze. His familiar fingers move from the pinkish scar to Crab's pulse point, pressing gently under his jaw. "Are you okay?" He asks, turning Crab's question back on him.

Crab lifts his hands up between them. "If you are," he signs, so wholeheartedly his hands shake. This whole thing scares him. Benzedrine's insanity, the mess in his head that drove him to shoot up just to get away from it. The fact that they'll never really understand each other. The way he's always offering reassurances but sometimes wants some for himself. If he can make others okay then maybe he can reassure himself next.

Benze stares at his hovering hands for a moment, then grabs them again, like he doesn't want to let go. "But you're shaking," he observes, almost clinically. "Your pulse is racing. You're nervous," he says. "You asked me if I'm okay but you're anxious." He says all this calmly and confidently, as a doctor, but then glances up at Crab with a question asking in his eyes.

Crab hesitates, but nods. He feels out of his depth, and he can't swim. Like the way it feels when you're falling asleep and jerk awake with the feeling that you're falling, losing your balance. Maybe that's it. He hasn't been sleeping well. Nightmares he can't tell anyone else about because they'd only make the life they've built worse. So he nods. And doesn't offer an explanation. He isn't sure he has one.

"Why?"

Crab shrugs. He suctions his tongue to the roof of his mouth, like sealing his mouth shut makes any difference. He shifts his weight, almost swaying back and forth on his feet.

Benze hums a few low notes, the way he does sometimes. They never have any particular melody. But Benzedrine has a beautiful voice. "Can I help?" He asks, half sing-song.

"I wish," Crab signs bitterly, pulling one hand away to form the words and mouthing them silently at the same time.

With unusual clarity, Benze peers up at him, before questioning, "You wish what?"

"You could help," signs Crab. He doesn't quite care if Benze gets it or not. Whatever strange nervous, feedback loop energy is hanging in the air says enough already. "I'm just tired," he adds. The doctor will accept that explanation even if Crab's own mind will not. He has no real reason to be bothered. He wasn't bothered a minute ago. He's supposed to be worrying about Benze, not the other way about.

Benze catches the last word, used enough in the station to be familiar to him. Maybe if the others used sign more, it would help him learn it better? Or maybe his brain just won't accept it, maybe things will always be stilted like this. "Tired?" He hums thoughtfully. "Are you sleeping enough?" He asks, his hands moving back to either side of Crab's neck. Much longer and he's going to start going through the motions of a checkup, lights flashed in eyes and all.

Crab nods. He's always some form of tired. Aren't they all? Sleep doesn't change it. Benze should know that by now. "Not always well," he admits, because he is a mostly honest person, unless you play cards against him.

Benze, after the cautious confusion of working out the words, nods, like he expected that. Maybe he did. Far be it from Crab to know what goes on in that cracked head of his. Far be it from Crab to know much of anything, maybe. He’s been operating on instinct for so long that paying attention starts to feel weird. Benze continues humming, a light sound that’s half thought, half music. It’s tense, like most things about him, but soothing.

His thumbs run over the scar over Crab’s throat again and he tips his head in a parody of a knowing shrug. “Bilateral vocal cord paralysis can lead to increased fatigue,” he says. It’s less cold, doctorish and more flowing into that continued subconscious hum he carries on. “You might not even notice it. The effort of even breathing takes more work due to the lack of function… here,” he says, pressing slightly on parallel spots at Crab’s throat. It makes Crab’s breath stutter outside his control, and his eyes lock onto Benze’s.

Benze is staring fixedly at Crab’s face, brows folded slightly, watching for his reaction. It’s unsettling. Still, despite instinct welling up inside him, he trusts that though Benze might be crazy, he’s still his best friend. He would never hurt him.

He forms one hand into the single letter 'Y' and his face into a question. Benze watches it intently, adds the two together. “When the vocal cords are paralyzed they usually fall into a default position that’s too close together to allow for perfect normal breathing. The remaining throat muscles have to pick up the slack, which requires more effort than simply the medulla oblongata and pons’ rhythms.”

Crab doesn’t know what much of that means. He doesn’t know much of anything, as a matter of fact. But when Benze moves his hands away, he knows he misses the touch. It’s a strange version of the kind of comfort Crab usually offers. He’s not used to being on the other side of it.

“Did you know you snore?” Benze hums quietly. He’s shuffling through his stack of papers again while Crab stands unsure of himself in the same place, and looking back over his shoulder. Crab shrugs. Makes sense, he guesses. Benze nods. “That’s why.”

Crab looks over Benze’s shoulder at the papers. He can read some of it, tentatively, uneasily. It’s all the things Benzedrine was muttering about earlier, he thinks. It unsettles him, but at the same time, this is how Benze cares about people. By caring for them. Maybe they’re a little bit alike in that way. He sets his hand on Benzedrine’s shoulder and reaches, fumbles more like, for a pen he’d seen him writing with earlier.

You don’t have to fix me, he writes next to the heading of a lone page of a heartless medical advertisement. It’s wobbly and spelled by sound, so probably not right, but Benze gets it right away. He stares from Crab’s shitty handwriting on the page and then into his eyes. Crab doesn’t know what’s going on in there, but does he ever?

“I know,” he says eventually. “But I still wish-“

Crab signs, “Wish what?”

“That I could help.”

Crab nods. He leans against the work table, stares down at the mess there. He taps one of Benze’s books. It’s one of the ones he goes back to when he’s trying to explain his practices. It’s old and soft around the edges and was written by a real human. Benze says it was one of the only things he had on his person when he broke for the Zones. The humanity is written in the pages. “Read to me?” He signs slowly, not because it’s something he thinks will help Benze. It might. Maybe even probably will. But it’s something he thinks will help him. Maybe even probably.

Benze’s eyes go wide and startled for a moment when he gets the gist of what Crab is saying. Crab thinks he pieces it together more from the gesture to the book and the asking in his eyes than by the actual words he spells with his hands. That doesn’t bother him. And Benze, after a few moments’ hesitation, leaves his stack of scavenged papers to reach for the book.

“Okay,” he says, not quite a question but nearly there. “…Inside?”

Crab huffs, the lift in his chest just brushing the edge of his lips. He nods, loops an arm around Benzedrine’s shoulders when he turns toward the door to the rest of the station. He starts to pull away when Benze tenses up, but he shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” Benze assures him. “It’s fine. You’re good,” he says, far more casual, loose even, than he’s seemed all day. Maybe the switch has flicked somewhere in that cracked brain of his, and the light is getting in. He glances sideways at Crab and offers a smile. His smile is always a little off. Too wide, not wide enough, too flat, something wrong in his eyes. But it’s genuine. He never smiles unless he means it.

They wind up settling on the ancient, worn-through couch in the lounge, where there’s a faint breeze pushing through the fabric covering a broken window. Crab taps the cover of the book again, drops his head onto Benzedrine’s shoulder and tilts it to look at him expectantly. Benze stares right back, like he always does. The sandstorm’s out of his eyes and now it’s more like that breeze.

Benze starts to read quietly, stilted at first before setting into that natural humming tone. It’s just the introduction, the most human part of the book, the part that talks about promises to be kept, lives to be saved. Crab’s head rests comfortably on the soft slope of Benze’s shoulder and the warmth of him beside him is comfortable, safe. His breathing rasps a little, but the doctor is right here. He’s asleep before Benze gets to the second chapter.

[theonewhoseinlovewithfictionals]

Mr. Here To Stay

Warning: may contain adult languages. Please be advise. Minors do not proceed.

PART 3

You march to the accounting department with your do-not-talk-to-me aura. As soon as the biometric turns color green, you go straight to the meeting room and reserving it for the whole day. You put down your shoulder bag on the table but it fell off, "ughh-" you didn't even bother to pick up those because you're in a hurry.

You proceed to your desk and call the IT department and request a laptop and the reason you told was because you cannot bring your desktop to the meeting room for the whole day. You wait for the IT to deliver the laptop so you sit with the others.

N1 eating the usual breakfast, "What's up with the long face?"

You lean back to your ergo chair and sigh deeply, "These reimbursements!" You loudly tap the pile of papers beside you, "I sampled one yesterday and guess what, I've seen numerous errors on the form. Now, I have to correct it with red ink and in addition to that, I have to prepare a journal entry for each of..." you purse you lips as you try not cuss, "--transaction!"

N4 glances, "that's a lot...why don't you do it next week?"

You shake your head no immediately, "I can't, have you forgotten what's next week?" Horrified marks on their faces. Their energy died down as they remember what's coming, "exactly, auditors doing their quarterly audit plus internal report," you close your eyes, "I thought I'm having no-work-on-Fridays-so that-you-can-enjoy-waiting-for-the-night-out-later. "

You heard a knock on your desk. You open your eyes and the IT is standing there holding the laptop you requested. You politely receive the company's asset and signs a paper, "thanks," the IT quickly leave the department, "okay, I'll see you later," before entering your prison, you grab a pile of journal entry form and a bunch of red pen at the supplies cabinet then headed to your detention cell.

Hours passed and you feel like the pile of paper hasn't going down. You stretch and drink water, pausing and looking at the minimalist painting on the wall. Taking a few deep breaths and continues to work.

------

Third party POV

Marco, having full of energy for unknown reason, he walks in the accounting department with his radiant smile, bringing again the last batch of reimbursements. Well, actually, it's only his disbursement for yesterday's afternoon small talk for the hospital's affiliated medical school. He make his way to Y/N station, only to find that Y/N's not there. Disappointed, his smile turns into frown however, Y/N's coworkers feel his presence without even saying 'hi' or 'good morning'.

They give him a welcoming smile and he waves 'hi'. Marco is about to open his mouth to pose the question but N3 answers right away, "Y/N's there," pointing N3's pen to the meeting room. Marco was about to walk to the room when N4 raises hand, stopping him.

N4 before sipping the beloved coffee warn the handsome doctor, "warning, Dr. Marco, you may not want to talk to Y/N right now or next week..."

N2 butts in, "or the next, next week either..." N2 sighed as N2 goes his sight from paper to screen, vice versa.

Marco with confusion on his face and scratches his head, "Then, next month, I guess?"

All of them shake their head no, N3 answers, "Y/N will be angry. The reimbursement is only valid for 7 days after the expense occurs," N3 focus on the monitor as N3 replies.

Marco leaning to Y/N's cubicle, "So what options do I have?"

N1 having the strength to answer, "Dr. Marco, just choose between these three options for Y/N's anger," Showing off her polished nails to the doctor, "A. Rude, Sarcastic and a Bitch,"

N2, "B. Feral"

N4 ending the multiple choice, "Or C. Violence,"

After the options lay down, all of them look at the doctor, waiting for his response. Marco's silent for a while, hands on his pocket. N1 blushes more as the pose is striking and making him more attractive. Grabbing N1's phone, take a photo of him, secretly.

After thinking it through, he finally reach his decision that could alter the accounting department's universe or rather Y/N's, he fixes his red eyeglass and curls his lips, " Or D. All of the above," hot on his heels, he walks toward to the meeting room.

Y/N's coworkers stare at the doctor as he marches forward to his death. They look at each other with is-he-serious? stare. N4 commenting, " And a challenger enters into the lion's den," None of them has the intention to go back to work as they are curious what would happen to the doctor's resolution...or they are worried what would happen to the doctor.

----------

You POV

You roll your eyes the moment you heard the glass door opens, "Haven't I told you be---" you stop as you see Dr. Marco enters the meeting room with his gleaming smile. You lean at your ergo chair and cross your arms, giving him your resting bitch face, "I take it, haven't they warned you?"

Marco confidently walk towards you, "They did," stopping in front of you. Resting and pressing his toned, perfect muscle cuts on both arms on the table. Undeniably, you gulp as you watch his shoulders tense under his white coat along with his stethoscope. He teasingly smile at you, leaning forward, "Just yesterday, you were thoughtful and sweet and now," his grins wider, "I just wanna see how much rude, sarcastic, bitch, feral and violent can you be..." he said in a challenging, low voice with a hint of seductiveness.

You didn't back off, especially your in the state of I don't give a fuck attitude. You put down the red pen and slowly stand up. You copy the doctor's stance and make sure he receives your message loudly and clearly by meeting his gaze with seriousness, "Then so be it..." Both of you stare each other.

You and your blazing eyes vs Marco and his calm ocean blue eyes.

The tension that you both created fills the room. You did not break the stare this time even though his eyes is dominating you, making your knees weak then you remembered the pile of papers you have to finish. You have no plans on backing down too even though your heart's been thumping hard.

After a minute, the doctor chuckles, "Okay, okay, I surrender," he stand properly and crosses his arms over his broad chest, "I'm just testing you,"

You gaze him, "I'm not in a mood for play time," you said in a tired, flat voice. Your eye catches the papers he holds. Your stressed increases but you realizes you don't have a choice either, "hands me those paper and get the hell out!"

Marco, being playful and it seems doesn't bother by your rudeness, tucks away the paper behind him, "This is not reimbursement, these are...patient's record,"

"Then what are you doing here?!"

"Roaming around..."

"Go home, you have a flexible schedule. Don't waste anyone's time..." you seat down and continues to check the amount and supporting receipts. Marking them red meaning your done.

"I don't wanna go home..."

You put down the red pen, "That's not my problem," you give him a lazy look, "for the last time, Dr. Marco, get out."

Marco's eyes soften and sparkles as he hears his name coming out from your lovely mouth causing also a smile on his thick lips, "Okay, okay." He let out a small laugh, "Bye, Y/N, it's nice seeing you today," he exit the meeting room with a wide smile.

Your brain is too stun to process, "What's wrong with him?" your eyebrows furrow and shake your head.

As the pile of paper goes down to the last, your stomach shout for food. You look up at the clock and it's 2 in the afternoon. You sigh and reward yourself a little treat. You pick up your bag from the floor when someone enters your zone. You immediately turn around and see a stranger standing with a paper bag and a drink, "Y/N?"

Confuse still you nodded, "y-yeah, that's me,"

the stranger happily give the items, "enjoy your meal,"

"but I didn't--" and poof the person's gone. You look at the paper bag remembering when did the last time touch your phone to order food online. No, you didn't. You're sure of it because you can feel in your right hand the tiredness from writing. You sit down and open the paper bag and the aroma of the packed food makes your stomach growl. You didn't even think who give the food, maybe one of your pals in the department? You quickly glance to them who appears witnesses on the food. All of them shake their head no.

You had no time to wonder who it is as the hunger making you crazy. You sit down and with one bite, you close your eyes and feel relief. You nod as the food taste like coming from a five star restaurant. you couldn't stop taking a bite until the food stuck in your esophagus. You grab the drink and pop the straw. You aggressively chug. Your eyes blink as it taste lemonade, feeling refreshed. Then you notice on the drink, there's a small post-it note on the middle part. You pluck it and read,

Peace Offering...for making you piss off earlier. -Dr. Marco, the one who look like a pineapple You cough at the note and let out a small laugh as you read the pineapple thing. Moreover, it makes your heart happy. With that, the stressed you had earlier somehow lessen. You can't help but smile while eating and rereading the note. You never thought a doctor having a beautiful penmanship and a good sense of humor.

Before the long arm ticks off to 12. You stand up and go back to your station, calling again the IT to let them know your finish using the laptop. Then, you go back to the meeting room and start packing up. Alas, you're done with the reimbursements and the journal entries for that matter is posted in the system. You put down the pile of papers under your desk and give the summary to your Manager.

You come back and the IT was there already. You smile and thank the IT staff. You sit in your station and put out a mirror to reapply your favorite lip balm.

"So, who gave your lunch?" N2 probes.

You smack your lips and keep the mirror, "Dr. Marco...he pissed off me earlier so he gave me a peace offering,"

N1 starts to whine, "I want to experience that! Y/N, can we change our role?! Just you know for two weeks!"

You giggle, "Sorry, N1, I cannot or else, all of the employees will receive their salary/pay late," N1 pouts but you just laugh.

As soon as the clock tick at 5p.m., all of you stand up and walk out the door but on the halfway to the door, you stop, remembering something. You shout at them, "You guys go, I'll meet you at the entrance!" You quickly go back to your desk and grab the post-it note. Smiling, you keep it in your bag.

Silly.

For some reason, it makes your heart flutter.

----------

A/N: PART 3 bonus will be posted soonest. :) I'll update this post to link the Part 3 bonus. I hope you enjoy this modern au because I am. xD Anyway, I don't think this will be short so, I might post this on my a03 account with my OC as "you". I'll post the link here when I'm done with that.