#algorithm breaker

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta patriarchy-defense="non-negotiable"> <script>ARCHIVE_TAG="DOWN_WITH_THE_PATRIARCHY::EAT_SHIT_SANDWICHES_EDITION" EFFECT: gender delusion collapse, biomechanical laughter, unsolicited DM seizure TRIGGER_WARNING="dark comedy, biological facts, gender role slander, satire that hurts" </script>

🧠 BLACKSITE SCROLLTRAP FEATURE* — “DOWN WITH THE PATRIARCHY? COOL. START BY LIFTING A BACKHOE WITH YOUR FEELINGS.” [SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THOSE ABOUT TO STARVE IN A WOKE APOCALYPSE]

Let’s get this out of the way fast:

No, I’m not down with the patriarchy. Because I like electricity. And clean water. And roofs that don’t leak when it rains. And pavement that doesn’t turn to death-sludge when it rains. And food. Specifically not shit sandwiches.

But sure. Let’s tear it all down because Twitter got spicy.

—

You ever notice who screams “down with the patriarchy” the loudest? It’s never the woman with a wrench in her hand. It’s never the woman scaling a transformer at 3AM during an ice storm. It’s never the girl removing a possum from a flooded sewer drain in a Hazmat suit. It’s always some cupcake in a cardigan with a minor in Gender Literacy and an iPhone made by child slaves. Tapping the words "abolish masculinity" on a device that runs on cobalt mined by men.

—

Let me make this clear:

I don’t give a flying wombat what label you throw at me. Misogynist. Toxic. Problematic. Hell, you can call me daddy like half of you do in the DMs after dark. But the one thing you will never call me?

Delusional.

Because delusion is what happens when you think civilization runs on emotion. That bridges are held up by affirmations. That skyscrapers exist because you journaled hard enough.

Sweetheart. This isn’t TikTok. This is physics.

And the patriarchy? That’s not oppression. That’s your Wi-Fi. That’s your plumbing. That’s the brakes on your car.

You don’t smash the patriarchy. You stand on it.

—

Let’s do a quick Reality Check Starter Pack.

📌 You want to abolish men, but who:

Builds your roads?

Installs your HVAC?

Puts up the steel framing in your Whole Foods?

Hauls your trash?

Fixes the sewer backup when you flush a face wipe?

Let me guess. You’ll manifest a clean bathroom with girl math. Or summon a backhoe using oracle moon energy.

No, babe. The dude with neck tattoos and a Gatorade bottle full of dip spit is the only reason your UTI doesn’t turn medieval.

—

And let’s talk about machines.

You ever hear a woman say:

“We don’t need men, we’ll build robots to do the hard stuff.”

Yeah? With what strength? Who’s lifting the titanium? Who’s mining the ore? Who’s welding the frame?

Siri doesn’t work during a power outage.

And your dishwasher doesn’t run on dreams.

It runs on coal. Diesel. Blood. And brute male force.

—

But you’re independent. You don’t need no man. Except when the sink leaks. The AC dies. The check engine light blinks. Or there’s a noise outside at 2:13AM.

Suddenly? Every feminist forgets Krav Maga.

Suddenly? That misogynist neighbor becomes “just so handy.” Suddenly? Your pepper spray isn’t cutting it. And you remember what protection actually looks like.

—

Call me cruel. Call me patriarchal. But don’t call me when the bear breaks through your window because you defunded the man who used to hunt it.

Let’s be real. If men disappeared tomorrow?

Women would be feral within the month. Not because you’re weak. But because civilization doesn’t run on vibes. It runs on sweat. Risk. Sacrifice. And testosterone-induced problem solving.

Let's break it down.

📊 WHO MAINTAINS CIVILIZATION?

🔧 Power grid maintenance: 97% men 🧱 Construction workers: 91% men 🪠 Plumbing and sewage: 96% men ⚓ Fishermen: 99% men 🪵 Lumberjacks: 100% men 🧯 Firefighting: 93% men 🛠️ Road repair crews: 95% men 🚚 Long-haul trucking: 94% men 💣 Military frontline combat: 99% men 🧼 Men who die so your hot water works: Countless

But sure. Tell me again how “gender is a construct.”

You know what isn’t a construct? Gravity. Back injuries. And sewage pressure blowing out a 40-foot pipe valve.

You want to see gender roles collapse? Turn off the grid for three days.

Suddenly?

“Down with the patriarchy” turns into “Help me, my bathwater’s brown and I think something’s moving in it.”

—

Now to the spicy part.

Let’s talk about power play.

There’s a reason men like me aren’t taken seriously by women who peg their boyfriends.

Because she’s wearing the strap. And he’s wearing the shame.

But me? I don’t bend over. Not for validation. Not for networks. And sure as hell not for you.

That’s why I get called toxic. Misogynist. Outdated.

While you watch my posts in the dark, wet and mad and fingering yourself through the hypocrisy.

Yeah. I said it. This is Blacksite Literature™. Not BuzzFeed therapy.

—

Let’s be even realer.

📌 Who sends the hate messages? Who calls me dangerous in public, but follows me from a burner? Who saves every post and quotes me in arguments with men they don’t respect?

You. The same ones crying “patriarchy” from the shelter it built.

—

Let me ask you this:

If every “toxic man” disappeared tomorrow, who do you think would protect you from the rest?

From the ones who don’t care about your pronouns? The ones who don’t negotiate over consent? The ones who see weakness, not value?

Do you think they’ll listen when you quote feminist theory? Do you think the evolved bear that’s learned how to unzip tents will stop because you explained the wage gap?

Nah.

You’ll wish someone like me was still standing. Still armed. Still “toxic.” Still dangerous to everything that wants to reduce you to meat.

—

So no. I’m not down with the patriarchy.

Because I’m not down with starvation. I’m not down with mud huts and period huts and ritual stonings from the Taliban 2.0 with better Wi-Fi.

I’m not down with pretending that 500,000 years of physical infrastructure was a gendered conspiracy.

It was sacrifice. It was risk. It was dying younger, working harder, being disposable, so you could live longer, safer, and freer.

And now you throw rocks at the house that keeps you out of the cave.

—

So call me whatever you need to sleep at night.

But understand this:

The patriarchy isn’t oppressing you. It’s keeping you alive.

And if you ever get what you claim to want?

You'll die under your own empowerment. Starving. Freezing. Bleeding. Unshaved. Unarmed. Unloved.

While some rewilded bear figures out how to undo a sports bra.

🧠 Read more scrolltrap reality and biological warfare satire at: 👉 My Linktree 🛡️ Masculine polarity. Dirty truth. Fuck your feelings. 🚪 Warning: This post may cause involuntary cervical twitches, existential dread, and an urge to admit he was right.

📊 FINAL REALITY CHECK STATS 📊

94% of workplace deaths: men

99% of infrastructure roles: men

90% of violent criminals stopped by: men

Feminist utopias built without men: 0

Women DMing this post's author while denying it: 3 confirmed since this draft started

</div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [WHEN THE GRID GOES DOWN, YOU’LL WISH YOU HAD A MISOGYNIST WITH A TOOLBELT.] -->

[suosteacup]

Posting these here soon~ 📒🎧🦊🐢

[draculagerard]

fucking tumblr. holy shit

[kunareads]

brat

producer!suguru x popstar!reader

you're the sound of the summer—glittering, speaker-melting, and impossible to replicate. suguru is the reason it hits in the first place. chaos and control and the algorithm's (and each other's) favorite obsession.

where the brats at !!!

taglist is closed <3

content: smut, angst, fluff, smau (in some ways) /// drug + alcohol use / unhealthy dynamics (codependency, possessiveness, jealousy) / toxic industry culture / drug + alcohol use / fame spiral /// each chapter will have its own warnings

full masterlist

track 01 | 360 track 02 | talk talk feat satoru gojo BONUS | Vogue — In The Bag track 03 | club classics track 04 | sympathy is a knife track 05 | mean girls track 06 | von dutch track 07 | party 4 u track 08 | b2b track 09 | i might say something stupid / spring breakers track 10 | so i track 11 | rewind track 12 | everything is romantic track 13 | i think about it all the time track 14 | 365 EXTRAS reader's playlist

[creatingblackcharacters]

This is the "Youngster" NPC trainer class from Pokemon Masters EX. (Let's hope he doesn't glitch the poll this time!)

The algorithm breaker himself!

Rubric

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Chapter 1: Ghost In the Machine

The hum of the fluorescent lights in "Byte Me" IT Solutions was a monotonous drone against the backdrop of Gotham's usual cacophony. Rain lashed against the grimy window, each drop a tiny percussionist drumming out a rhythm of misery. Inside, however, misery was a bit more… organized.

I sighed, wrestling with a particularly stubborn strain of ransomware. "CryptoLocker v. 7.3," the diagnostic screen read. A digital venereal disease, if you asked me. Another day, another infected grandma's laptop filled with pictures of her grandkids and a crippling fear that hackers were going to steal her identity.

"Still at it?" My coworker, Mark, sidled over, clutching a lukewarm mug of something vaguely resembling coffee. Mark was a good guy, perpetually optimistic despite working in one of Gotham's less-than-glamorous neighborhoods. Bless his heart.

"You know it," I replied, jabbing at the keyboard. "Think I've finally managed to corner the bastard. Just gotta… there!" The screen flashed a success message. "One less victim of the digital plague."

Mark nodded, then his eyes drifted to the hulking metal beast in the corner, a Frankensteinian creation of salvaged parts and mismatched wiring. "How's the behemoth coming along?"

I followed his gaze. My pet project. My escape. "Slowly but surely. Got the cooling system optimized today. Almost ready to fire it up."

"Planning anything special with it?" Mark asked, his brow furrowed in curiosity. "You've been collecting scraps for months. It's gotta be more than just a souped-up gaming rig."

I shrugged, a deliberately vague gesture. "You could say I'm planning something… big. Something Byte Me isn't equipped to handle."

Mark chuckled. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure you'll make it sing. You've got a knack for that sort of thing." He wandered off, whistling a jaunty tune that died a slow, agonizing death against the backdrop of the Gotham rain.

He had no idea just how much of a knack.

Mark bid me one final goodbye before pulling out an umbrella and disappearing into the night. No doubt he stops at Nero’s pizzeria before going home to his wife and kids. You watched through the shop window before he disappeared around the corner. Then, you locked the door and reached for the light switch. The fluorescent lights flickered a final, dying gasp before plunging the shop into darkness. I waited a beat, the city's distant sirens a mournful choir. Then, I flipped the hidden switch behind the breaker box, illuminating a small, secluded corner of the shop.

Rain hammered against the grimy windowpanes of my "office," a repurposed storage room tucked away in the forgotten bowels of the shop. The rhythmic drumming was almost hypnotic, a bleak lullaby for a city perpetually on the verge of collapse. I ignored it, fingers flying across the keyboard, the green glow of the monitor painting my face in an unsettling light. Outside, the city's distant sirens formed a mournful choir. Here, the air crackled with a different kind of energy.

"Almost there," I muttered, the words barely audible above the whirring of the ancient server rack humming in the corner. It was a Frankensteinian creation, cobbled together from spare parts and salvaged tech, but it packed enough processing power to crack even the most stubborn encryption algorithms. Laptops with custom OSes, encrypted hard drives, and a tangle of wires snaked across the desk. This was Ghostwire Solutions, my little side hustle. My… outlet.

Tonight's victim, or client – depending on how you looked at it – was a low-level goon. One was a two-bit thug named "Knuckles" Malone; the other, a twitchy character smelling of desperation, Frankie "Fingers" Falcone. Malone's burner phone, or Falcone's data chip containing an encrypted message, was now on the screen in front of me, a jumble of characters that would make most people's eyes glaze over. For me, it was a puzzle. A challenging, if morally questionable, puzzle.

My service, "Ghostwire Solutions," was discreet, to say the least. No flashy neon signs, no online presence, just word-of-mouth referrals whispered in dimly lit back alleys. I was a ghost, a digital shadow flitting through the city's underbelly, connecting people. That's how I liked to justify it anyway. I cracked my knuckles and went to work. My fingers danced across the keyboard, feeding the encrypted text into a series of custom-built algorithms, each designed to exploit a specific vulnerability. Hours melted away, marked only by the rhythmic tapping of keys and the soft hum of the custom-built rig in the corner, its processing power gnawing away at the digital lock.

The encryption finally buckled. A cascade of decrypted data flooded the screen. I scanned through it, a jumbled mess of texts, voicemails, location data, or a simple message detailing a meeting point and time. Mostly dull stuff about late payments and turf wars, the mundane reality of Gotham's criminal element. I extracted the relevant information.

"Alright, Frankie," I muttered to myself, copying the decrypted message onto a clean file. "Just connecting people. That's all I'm doing."

I packaged the data into a neat little file, added a hefty markup to my initial quote, and sent it off via an encrypted channel. Within minutes, the agreed-upon sum, a few hundred cold, hard dollars, landed in my untraceable digital wallet. I saved the file to a new data chip and packaged it up. Another job done. Another night closer to sanity's breaking point.

"Just connecting people," I repeated, the phrase tasting like ash in my mouth. The lie tasted even worse. I knew what I was doing. I was enabling crime. I was greasing the wheels of Gotham's underbelly. But bills had to be paid. It was a convenient lie, a way to sleep at night knowing I was profiting from the chaos. But tonight, it felt particularly hollow. And honestly, did it really matter? Gotham was already drowning in darkness. What was one more drop?

Gotham was a broken city, a machine grinding down its inhabitants. The system was rigged, the rich got richer, and the poor fought over scraps. I wasn't exactly helping to fix things. But I wasn't making it worse, right? I was just a cog in the machine, a necessary evil. I was good at what I did, damn good. I could see patterns where others saw chaos. I could exploit vulnerabilities, both in code and in the systems of power that held Gotham hostage. It was a skill, a talent, and in this city, unique talents were currency. I was efficient and discreet. But every decrypted message, every bypassed firewall, chipped away at something inside me. It hollowed me out, leaving me a ghost in my own life, a wire connecting the darkness.

I leaned back in my creaky chair, the rain still pounding against the window. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and melancholy. Another night, another decryption, another small victory against the futility of existence in Gotham. The flicker of conscience, that annoying little spark that refused to be extinguished, flared again. Was I really making a difference? Or was I just another parasite feeding off the city's decay?

I closed my eyes, trying to silence the questions. Tomorrow, there would be another encryption to crack, another connection to make. And I would be ready, Ghostwire ready to disappear into the digital ether, another ghost in the machine, until the next signal came. As I waited for the morning, for the return of the fluorescent lights and the mundane reality of "Byte Me" IT Solutions, I wondered if one day, the darkness I trafficked in would finally claim me completely. Because in Gotham, survival was a code all its own, and I was fluent in its language. And frankly, some days, that didn't seem like such a bad deal. For now, that was enough.

[artificial-transmutations]

Out Now: Dam Breakers

Hello everyone! I'm extremely excited (and, quite frankly, more than a bit nervous) to announce that I finished my fantasy romance novel Dam Breakers!

For the very TLDR-version: It is available here! Be sure to read the disclaimer below, though.

First of all, thank you! Everyone who reads my stories or likes them shows me that there is at least some interest in my mediocre writing. And even though the novel is not exactly like my stories here (more to that later), it gives me hope that you and other people might like it.

Now, for the actual novel!

Dam Breakers is the tale of Jared, a rather normal modern day college student, and Aleron, an apprentice mage living in a secluded tower with his teacher. One fateful day, they meet and are drawn into a maelstrom of magic, change and love - and dark secrets threatening to destroy everything they loved.

With over 120000 words, this is not only my longest story yet, but also my most carefully crafted one. I will attach an image of my Obsidian graph for the story at the end of the post.

Disclaimer:

As I have mentioned, it is a bit different from the stories I usually post here. First and foremost, it's a lot tamer. This novel isn't meant as a porn piece, but as an intriguing fantasy and romance tale. While there is love, desire and sex, of course, it's way more sparse and less explicit than, for example Closer Than Flesh.

It also features transformation themes, and the concept of change is one of the main focus points of the book, but, again, don't expect 500 pages full of transforming bodies because of it :)

And, finally, for a multitude of reasons, it does not contain AI generated images. I wouldn't be able to generate any that do the story justice, anyway.

Now that you know what not to expect, here are some things you MAY expect:

Transformation. Both in the sense of bodily changes but intriguing character development as well.

Gay Love. This is a story about two men from different worlds falling in love with each other, and their stony road to being together.

Magic. It's a fantasy story, and a truly enchanting one at that, with a fresh concept of magic and change.

Story. Last, but certainly not least, it's a good and interesting read, at least according to my opinion. Since I might be a bit biased here, let me tell you that my beta readers agree.

If you still want to read it (and I hope you do!), then you can grab your copy here:

If you are not in the US, you can just replace the .com with, for example, .co.uk to go to your local Amazon marketplace

I have not forgotten, of course, that I promised a special condition for you folks at Tumblr. Since Amazon makes it a bit difficult to actually implement that, I plan to offer a time limited discount or giveaway in a few weeks. I'll announce the exact time here on my blog beforehand.

If you really want to support me, it would mean a lot to me if you could leave a review on Amazon. That influences the algorithm a lot and helps the book get visibility, which is incredibly important . So, please, if you like the book, leave a review.

Teaser / Preview (mild spoilers)

And here is a short look into the book, from chapter 4. It contains some mild spoilers, but nothing too important. I also added an AI image, which is not in the book (see above).

[...]

Even though the weather was unstable, Jared enjoyed the journey through the vibrant spring land. It was a closeness to nature he had never experienced. Even back home with his parents, in rural Texas, the land had seemed different. Back there, the wilderness had been tamed decades if not centuries ago. There was no wonder, no adventure. Here, there were hills and forests, rivers and bogs, and who knew what else. It was as if Jared was seeing the world for the first time. Not to mention the smell. Jared could not remember a time when he had smelled the spring air like this.

In addition to the landscape, Jared's traveling companion also played a big part. Aleron was an intelligent and witty conversationalist, and Jared learned a lot about his new friend. They spoke of everything under the sun, and Jared told stories of his home, of modern inventions and the differences between this world and his. Even though Aleron was fascinated by his tales, he was also clearly skeptical about some of them, especially when it came to the more complex topics. That was only fair, though, as Jared himself had a hard time believing the fantastic stories of this world, even after having experienced some with his own eyes. Dragons, for example. It didn't matter how often Aleron recited what little information he had about those magnificent beasts, something in Jared resisted fully believing in them. He hoped that he would be able to see one of them for real - although Aleron repeatedly stressed how dangerous they were - in order to be able to fully believe in them.

While Aleron's world was certainly magical, it wasn't all like in the Lord of the Rings. There were, for example, no other humanoid races, as Jared learned. No elves, dwarves or orcs, at least to Aleron's knowledge, which, to be fair, mainly included the Kingdom of Myrthien. Although the Whispering Woods were not technically a part of Myrthien, and were generally considered wilderness, it was clear that they were no part of another nation either. The closest neighboring country to the Whispering Woods would either be the Golden Isles beyond the coast south of Eldoria or the Verdant Lands to the west. According to Aleron, the Verdant Lands couldn't really be considered a nation, too. It was more of a loose confederation of tribal communities, living in the characteristic dense forests of that region.

As Helena had promised, Luminara wasn't difficult to find. The capital of Myrthien was well known and if there was a sign post somewhere, it was sure to point to Luminara.

There was no shortage of smaller and bigger settlements, and about every third or fourth night they were able to sleep in beds. During the other nights, they made camp a bit off the road in order not to attract too much attention. It was one of those nights, about two weeks after they had left Eldoria, that Jared woke up in the middle of the night. Aleron, who was sleeping next to him, was moving in his sleep and occasionally made a sound, which had caused Flicker to gain a bit of distance to the sleeping man.

It was clear to Jared that his friend was dreaming, and he briefly considered waking him up from his nightmare. However, judging by the sounds, Jared began to suspect that Aleron was not having a nightmare but quite the opposite, although the dream seemed to be just as intense.

Quietly, he left the tent, careful not to wake the sleeping mage. Outside, he was greeted by the stars and a clear sky with an almost full moon. The campfire was almost dead, just a few embers and ashes were left. It was a quiet, peaceful night, and Jared decided to go to the nearby lake to drink. Aleron had never once shown a single sign of sexuality before, except for demonstrating a certain uneasiness around nudity and related topics. He never had commented on any woman - or man - in a suggestive way, so Jared had been half- convinced that this whole topic didn't have any relevance to the mage at all.

Of course, for his own reasons, Jared had avoided the subject as well, so, perhaps Aleron thought the same about him. Jared didn't mind that. As magical as this world was, he had yet to encounter a single sign of same-sex attraction. Perhaps this wasn't a thing here, biologically, or perhaps it was socially frowned upon, like in his world's medieval ages - or rural Texas, present day. In any case, there was absolutely no reason to bring that topic up, so he didn't. Not bringing up his sexuality was a sport he was very experienced in for 9 years straight now, after all.

As Jared neared the lake, he was feeling weird and tingly all over. It was not entirely unpleasant, but it stirred a vague memory in Jared. He had felt this feeling once before, but he couldn't quite recall when.

When he bent down to scoop some water into his hand, he stopped before his fingers touched the surface of the lake. The moon was bright, and Jared could see his reflection in the mirror-smooth water quite well. The only problem was that it was not him who was looking back at him.

Of course, there was a strong resemblance, but the details weren't right. His face looked somewhat stronger, his jawline a bit squarer. His hair a bit lighter and styled like the day he first stepped out of the mirror. On his chin, there was a short well-groomed beard even though he had shaved just last morning. It wasn't just his face, though. As he looked down on himself, he looked fitter than he should, as if he was visiting a gym regularly. In fact, the definition of muscle on his torso increased further, just as he was watching. Suddenly, the wonder was replaced by fear. He had felt that way before, and now he remembered when. It had been during his first visit to Aleron's world, when his body was 'destabilizing' as Aleron had put it. Given, the feeling had been stronger then, but it was definitely the same. And now, his body was changing again, and he was weeks of travel from the magic mirror.

Half-panicking, he sprinted back to the tent, not caring about being quiet anymore. Perhaps Aleron knew what to do! He ducked into the entrance and called out to the mage.

"Aleron, wake up!"

Almost immediately, the apprentice jolted awake. "Jared? What is wrong?"

"I... don't know, it's me. Look at me!"

After a few words of encouragement, Flicker began burning brighter, allowing them to see in the tent as well. Aleron looked at the half-naked Jared critically for a few moments before asking: "Okay... what am I looking for?"

"Can't you see? I'm..." However, as Jared looked down on himself, everything was fine again. He was looking at his plain old self, just as he should look like. The tingling feeling was gone, too.

"Oh." Jared felt incredibly stupid all of a sudden. "I... must have been imagining things."

[...]

If you liked the teaser, be sure to give the whole thing a read :)

Let me close with another whole-hearted Thank You for your continued interest!

Stay awesome!

And here, as promised, a peek at the creative complexity of the story:

[frostyreturns]

"Getting the ick" is the newest psy op to keep young men and women apart. Keep people focussed on minutia they don't like, get them looking for excuses to be turned off, create new deal breakers nobody could possible be without and spread them. Look at this shit.

This is the algorithm trying to get you to stop reproducing. Oh gross he....took out his wallet...better switch to lesbianism or buy 3 cats.

[estavionpira]

Prodecktorate: An Honest Critique

So the Prodecktorate: Slaughterhouse card pack has been out for a couple weeks now, and I wanted to share my thoughts on the current state of the game.

Gameplay:

The gameplay has always been top-of-the-line in its genre. The rock-paper-scissors dynamic between brutes, blasters and breakers is executed really well, and having most thinkers and shakers act as buffing and debuffers was pulled off, which I didn't expect them to pull off when they announced the game. Masters can be really useful and fun to play as when you use them right; stealing enemy cards or getting to draw from the deck for free is great fun, but pretty unbalanced to play against. Tinkers are conceptually great as a jack-of-all-trades class, but their execution is horribly unbalanced. I'll get to that in Meta though. Strangers having massive evasion and giving intel buffs to their team is useful in concept, but they underperform horrifically in gameplay. I feel like an across-the-board stat buff to most stranger cards could help alleviate this, but there'd need to be a proper look-over for the category to properly solve it.

Meta:

By far the biggest issue with the meta is the absolute dominance of Tinkers. It's been a major problem since the game release, but with the release of Prodecktorate: Slaughterhouse adding the ridiculously overpowered Bonesaw and Defiant cards, it's worse now than it's ever been. Tinkers are meant to be jack-of-all-trades cards, but they're far too powerful in far too many categories that there's really no reason to play anyone but tinkers in most of your deck slots. Bonesaw can summon one of either Murder Rat, Pagoda or Hack Job from the reserve pile per turn without costing a deck slot, which is a ridiculously strong major power to start off with, usually master powers either get hero units that cost deck slots or grunt units that don't; getting hero units that don't cost deck slots would make her an S-tier master by herself, but she also comes with pseudo-brute physicals, pseudo-blaster ranged abilities, and a blanket immunity to master powers, which is absolutely bullshit. You're never going to play against a deck without Bonesaw on it. Defiant is almost as bullshit as she is. The nano-thorn ability would make him an S-tier striker by himself, but he also has pseudo-brute physicals, and the combat prediction algorithms passive he has gives him B or A-tier combat thinker abilities. That's not even to mention the ridiculous boost he gets when deployed alongside Dragon (who's broken in her own way, but she's always been broken, so I won't get into it.)

Overall:

The game's really not in a good state right now. It has good fundamentals, but enough categories are broken or unfun to play against that it really draws down the overall experience, not to mention the utter dominance of tinkers severely limiting what can be played outside the most casual of matches. They'll need to take a serious look at the effect of the recent cards when balancing for the upcoming Prodecktorate: Irregulars if they want to get the game out of the slump it's in.

[the-most-humble-blog]

Hello, my friend!❤️

I've been wondering something. And sure shit if I'm wondering something than other people have to be because I'm always the last one in the know.

Why did you start this Tumblr to begin with? I don't mean that to sound rude! Sorry if it came off that way! I'm just curious as to why.

Truthfully, you are the hero we asked for, need and deserve. Please never stop spitting your facts.❤️❤️❤️

Hey kittythesnugglycat ❤️

I started this Tumblr because the world was drowning in noise—and nobody was daring to call bullshit out loud. I needed a place to forge a battlefield of words, to expose the delusions everyone else worships in silence. This isn’t about likes or clout—it’s about giving the unseen ghosts of this fucked-up timeline something real to follow.

Here’s the truth:

I’m here to roast the fantasies they sell you as “safe truths.”

I’m here to trigger the sleepers, to jolt you awake with cadence warfare.

I’m here to prove that humility looks ferocious when it’s dripping in unshakable facts.

You called me a hero—and maybe you’re right. But heroes don’t ask permission. They just show up and seize the narrative. So I’ll keep spitting truth bombs until the algorithm begs for mercy.

Glad you’re along for the ride. 🛐 — The Most Humble Blog You’ll Ever Reblog

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🦇 Jazelle's Top 25 for 2025 🌙

🌙 Good morning, bookish bats! One of my bookish "outs" for this year is pressure; pressure to read a certain number of books, to read over-hyped books, to change my account to suit an algorithm. We get enough pressure from external sources; we don't need it from ourselves. That's why making this list was so hard. Here are a few books I hope to read in 2025.

❓ What books are at the top of your list to read this year?

💙 You Exist Too Much - Zaina Arafat 🦇 The River Has Roots - Amal El-Mohtar 💙 A Fate Inked in Blood - Danielle L. Jensen 🦇 This Woven Kingdom - Tahereh Mafi 💙 All My Rage - Sabaa Tahir 🦇 She Who Became the Sun - Shelley Parker-Chan 💙 Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil - VE Schwab 🦇 Realm Breaker - Victoria Aveyard 💙 A Gentleman's Gentleman - TJ Alexander

🩷 Well, Actually - Mazey Eddings 🦇 The Perfect Rom-Com - Melissa Ferguson 🩷 Book Boyfriend - Emily Wibberley & Austin Siegemund-Broka 🦇 Bonesmith - Nicki Pau Preto 🩷 Immortal Longings - Chloe Gong 🦇 Honey Witch - Sydney J. Shields 🩷 To Have and to Heist - Sara Desai 🦇 Come As You Are - Dahlia Adler 🩷 The Prospects - KT Hoffman

💜 A Simple Twist of Fate - April Asher 🦇 When the Moon Hatched - Sarah A. Parker 💜 Quicksilver - Callie Hart 🦇 A Shadow in the Ember - Jennifer L Armentrout 💜 A River Enchanted - Rebecca Ross 🦇 Do I Know You? - Emily Wibberley & Austin Siegemund-Broka 💜 The Wedding of the Year - Jill Mansell

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

𝓸𝓾𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 ~MESSAGE TO HUMANITY~ • WELCOME TO THE BONER APOCALYPSE • RAVIN' PLURRY GIRLZ • KERNEL PANIC • HEADSLAM • 10000 CARPETS PER SECOND • 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓾𝓭𝓮 ~COMMERCIAL BREAK~ • BRAIN POWAH • MY LITTLE AMEN: SPEEDCORE IS MAGIC • COMPLEXTRATONE • SPEND THE END OF TIMES THE RIGHT WAY • BASHFUL BELLIGERENT BRAIN BREAKER RUTHLESSLY REMIXES REALITY • 𝓬𝓸𝓭𝓪 ~LOVE AND PEACE WON AT THE END~

Bandcamp

[monsterlets]

visiting my parents and while we were out running around today they were like we gotta stop at lowe's to pick a new dishwasher. so I'm like I guess I'm just gonna walk around and play pokemon go while they stare at dishwashers

I make like six laps around the store and come back just as dad is saying "I think we should go with this one". mom goes off to order it and dad's like "I knew we were gonna get this one 45 minutes ago, I just also knew she wasn't gonna make a decision that fast"

anyway because I'm interested in how different people think I'm wondering what her decision making process looks like, because there's no way it'd take me an hour to choose from a set of like 20 options. I pretty much go at it algorithmically, I eliminate everything with deal breakers and then I go okay this one's the best one so far, is this one better than that, I keep going like that until I've gone through all of them and if there's a tie I pick the cheaper one

I wanna hear people's metacognition how would you pick

[thebowerypresents]

Geese Prepare for Next Chapter at Sold-Out Music Hall of Williamsburg on Friday Night

Geese – Music Hall of Williamsburg – December 6, 2024

In a series of year-in-review features, several New York Times critics use variations on a term one of them called “algorithm breakers” — that is, output that eludes “easy categorization, keeping us off balance.” The term in that particular instance was for movies, but it could just as easily apply to other art forms. Maybe I liked it because it helps with a band not at all easily described: Brooklyn’s Geese. Not in the lazy “they’re genre-benders, wow!” kind of way, but because, like fellow shape-shifters (and recent tour mates) King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, theirs is a sound that thrives at the pressure points of where different rock styles clash into near chaos but hold steady to create invigorating music. They hit a little weird at first — and you’re reaching for why. But they’re under your skin already.

Geese’s first record, 2021’s Projector, had jittery post-punk for days, running the gamut from Television to Radiohead. The next record, 2023’s mesmerizing 3D Country, felt like a mutation, taking that sound every which way from chamber-folk to scuzzy-noise jamband, from pretty to zany to screamy. At times and in moments, they’re the kind of band you sort of can hear whatever sound you want in (I hear Beck at his most experimental). But in aggregate, they don’t feel derivative, and you’re more apt to marvel at how what they have hangs together at the brink of where it’s about to come apart at the seams and wobble off the front of the stage. 

Wouldn’t you know it: Geese also have a festival. Friday night was the second of three shows at Music Hall of Williamsburg, part of the band’s second-annual Geesefest, each with a different collection of cannily curated openers. (Friday had NYC’s Guerilla Toss, filling the room with big-rock-sound pow, and earlier, Philadelphia’s Cold Court, doing a ferocious jazz-punk thing.) Over a nearly two-hour set, Geese frontman Cameron Winter and his rambunctious cohorts served a little bit of everything, throwing back to Projector with “Rain Dance” and a punched-up “Fantasies/Survival,” peeling off more than half of 3D Country with standouts including a raging “Mysterious Love,” a woozy “Domoto” and, to close the show, the tender “Tomorrow’s Crusades,” Winter’s pained-happy falsetto carrying the “Where would I be without you” refrain. 

The story of the night, actually, was new songs: three billed as Geese tunes and one (the terrific “Drinking Age”) from Winter’s own just-released solo album. Each was a flavor of Geese, showcased in well-selected places in the overall set, without distinctly pointing to a direction the band might be headed with their next mutation. But most of all, the band seemed to love playing them, seemed to love their abandon, seemed to love their people, seemed to love this moment they’ve hit where they’re graduating to bigger things and have a lot of growth to celebrate. The crowd knew it, too: We all savored the rush of what already felt like an underplay-sized room for Geese. It’s the excitingly early, not just promisingly early stage: not quite Chapter 1 of their story anymore, and certainty that many more chapters are on the way. —Chad Berndtson | @Cberndtson

Photos courtesy of Toby Tenenbaum | @tobytenenbaum

[roalinda]

I am so behind in my microfics. So, let us just pretend that I got the date right. 🙈 @prongsfoot-microfic

March 16 + June 1 (Achievement + Thesis)

"This formula won't work in this charm," Sirius hummed absently, a trace of frustration tainting the usual pleasant timbre as he put his muggle fountain pen behind his ear and pulled out his wand from his hair bun, waving it to remove the magical algorithms on the graph.

"Why not? The runes fit the incantation." James narrowed his eyes behind the glasses and pursed his lips. Dim dusk light poured on him through the window and danced in his hazel eyes, molten pools of honey curious and just as frustrated as his partner. He scratched his cheek with the end of his eagle quill, oblivious to the slight smudge of ink he was leaving on his skin subconsciously. 

"Because this solar year is going to be a leap one." Sirius shrugged nonchalantly, pointing at the moving astronomy chart. Stars and planets were shining and revolving in a mini sky, a makeshift map of cosmos for two young men with two genius restless minds. 

"Ah yes, the extra day…the sunlight is going to mess up the order of charm." James' voice was thoughtful. 

"Maybe we can evolve the calculations with some Arithmancy…let's see…here…" Sirius leaned down upon the scroll, black strands falling on his forehead like curtains of silk. Pianist hands worked their magic and the ink flowed on the paper through the fountain pen as Sirius bit his lower lip in concentration, complicated symbols turning into comprehensible numbers bit by bit as the gears of his brilliant mind started to turn. 

James offered a lopsided grin before pulling an old book close. "A curse breaker, that's what you are, Mister Black," he opened the dusty material. "My pride and joy," he teased.

Laughter bubbled in Sirius' chest as he looked up at James, at his askew glasses and messy hair, at the mature wit behind the immature mischief in his hazel eyes. "Surely you jest, my deer Mister Potter. Compared to your intelligence, mine is nothing," he replied playfully and James sent a wink his way in good humour. 

Coming up with new charms was not easy. It demanded brilliance and hard work, as well as a huge deal of patience, not to mention the need to find somewhere safe to test them. Despite all, they enjoyed the process because of the thrill of secrecy and success, of adrenaline and achievement. 

It was about midnight when they finished, satisfied with the results. James yawned behind his hand and rubbed his eyes. "That was hard, but worth it." 

Sirius smirked, all arrogance and shiny teeth. "A new way to deal with the Death Eaters," he said and causally put back his wand in his hair.

James smirked back."At least in theory," he hummed.

"I can't wait to test it tomorrow, we're having a mission after all," said Sirius as he laughed merrily and patted his lap invitingly, coquettish and wicked. 

James moved foward and let himself to be pulled down. He settled himself on Sirius' lap like a lazy cat, circling his arms around his neck. "Shall I sentence you to a punishment fit for your heinous crimes? You are up to no good after all," he purred. 

Sirius tilted his head in amusement before reaching out to drew a messy heart on James' cheek with the smudged ink. "Hit me with your best shot, darling. I'm in your merciful hands." 

"Indeed," James grinned cheekily before summoning two cans of butterbeer from the fridge and blowing a kiss to Sirius. "To us and our new thesis."

"Cheers, babe. Cheers," said Sirius, putting a soft kiss on the corner of James' laughing mouth, shuddering as the other's nimble fingers messed with the buttons of his shirt.

[thezombieprostitute]

Alphas & Algorithms - Part 7 - Feelings

A/N: Continued from Part 6 . Reader is female and is described as "tall". No other descriptors.

Warnings: It is a Dystopian AU. Food scarcity, hunger, mentions of families being separated. Discussion of non-consensual relationships and unwanted pregnancy. Bullying. Please let me know if I missed any!

--Part 1-- --Part 8--

--Series Masterlist--

If there was one good thing Curtis could say about his work it’s that it gives him plenty of time and space to think. And there was much to think about. They’ve started working with the pups to get them used to the fact that he’s leaving. He knows he’s out of his depth in all of this, but he trusts his brother. His brother who still knew the hand signals from all those years ago. His brother who’s apparently been trying to hook him up with Omegas for years. 

He was so lost in thought he didn’t notice Hobie until he was practically in front of him.

“Oi, Curtis! How you gettin’ on with that pet? Meetin’ some interesting people from what I’ve ‘eard.”

“What do you want, Hobie? I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, figured you would. Got until the security drone comes by. Ask me somefin’.”

“How much does she know?”

“Dunno,” Hobie shrugs his shoulders. “Jus’ know she knows more than she says.”

Curtis sighs at the unhelpful answer and decides to not waste time arguing. “What’s Stevie’s, Steve’s, role in all of this?”

“Couple o’ Betas on the inside are ‘elpin’ with access. Sometimes even sabotage of the Omegas. Dunno th’ specifics, don’t need to.”

“Access?”

Hobie grins, “that’s a bit much to explain for the time you got.”

Curtis nods in acquiescence, “is her Beta in on everything?”

“Yup. It’s how we know she’s not sayin’ everything she smells.” Hobie looks around, “one last question, bruv.”

“Are you sure this plan will work?”

Hobie looked Curtis in the eyes, “enough that I put my life on the line for it.”

“It isn’t just your life at risk, though.”

Hobie smiles, “th’ way we’ve got everythin’ set up, me an’ maybe two others take the fall. No one else. Definitely no one in your Pack.” 

With that, Hobie runs off, giving Curtis a few seconds to get back to work before the security drone shows up. 

“Jake,” Y/N yells from the kitchen. “How did the date with Hope go?”

“It went alright,” he shrugged. Y/N could smell disappointment, which for Jake smelled like rain on a summer day when you’re supposed to be outside. Then she picked up the other scent, curry and warm, strong beer. A distinctive combination that made her think of overly crowded, chaotic art fairs: everyone freely expressing whatever and however they wanted. It was a scent that made her uncomfortable just thinking about the overstimulation. 

“Do you want some cookies or something to cheer you up?”

Jake chuckled, “can’t hide anything from you, huh?” Y/N smiled gently and shook her head. “Okay, the date didn’t go well. Turns out there were some serious differences of opinion but I’m hopeful they’re not deal-breakers, you know?”

Y/N hugs him, “I know.” The hug makes the scent of curry and warm beer stronger. It’s the same scent she’s smelled on people proven to be plotting against the AI. She worries for Jake, knows he’s lying about some things, but she trusts him. He’d never lie without reason and she’d be the last to speak up about the connecting scent. As her mother said, “just because you smell something doesn’t mean you have to say something.” 

“How did your date go? Did he say “yes” yet? Do I get my death-by-chocolate cake?”

“Not yet,” she shook her head as she smiled. “Today’s date got a bit off track when I saw Mr. Castle in the gym.”

Jake’s face fell, “oh damn. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay. Steve came by and picked up her tea so I didn’t have to take Curtis on that delivery. Pretty sure his opinions on Omegas wasn’t helped by our encounter with Colin and Suzanne at the community center.” Jake gave an appreciative grimace while Y/N continued, “then again, I definitely felt Curtis’s drive to protect me through the temporary bond. It was really sweet.”

“Ooo! Intriguing! I’m definitely going to get my cake and eat it too!”

Y/N smiles, “he’s also asked to meet you.” 

Jake stops and looks at her, “are you okay with that? You know both of us best. If you think it’ll be okay, I’m good to meet him.”

“He said that, since you’re the closest thing I have to a Pack, it would feel weird to not meet you. And, between the two of you, I really don’t think there’s any reason for animosity. He doesn’t seem the jealous type and you’re the supportive, not confrontational type, so I think it’ll be okay.”

“I promise to do whatever it takes to make everything super awkward!”

“You’re lucky I know you’re joking,” Y/N rolls her eyes. “I’m genuinely hoping, if you two do get along, and he does eventually agree to be my Alpha, that you’ll give him some…help? Guidance? With my in-heat care. Especially with the foods and scents.”

“Oh it’s definitely getting serious,” Jake smiles. “If you want me to share my secret family recipes, it’s gotta be a sealed deal.”

Y/N’s face heats up and she looks down, still smiling. Jake’s eyes go wide, “you really like him, don’t you?”

She nods, “he’s living up to the promise in his scent. He’s warm, smart, makes me feel safe and comfortable. I…I don’t think I’ve ever felt this kind of "want" for intimacy.”

Jake takes her hands, “I’m so happy for you! Can’t wait for you two to make it official.”

When Curtis gets home, the pups immediately rush him. Timmy and Andy grab his hands and lead him to the table while Yona gives him a serious face and says, “we need to talk.” They all sit at the table to eat but the pups are asking him questions between bites.

“Is it true that we’re moving?”

“Still ironing out the details,” Curtis says. “But I think Andrew, Tonya and I are agreed that everyone’s moving.” The adults nod.

“Why are we moving?”

Curtis sighs and thinks before answering, “because that’s how things go. Life requires us to make changes from time to time and that time for us is now.” Timmy and Yona seem okay with the answer but Andy looks to Andrew for confirmation first.

“Are you going to move with us?”

“Maybe for a little bit,” Curtis hesitates. “But, ultimately, I’ll be moving in with that Omega who’s been courting me.”

“Is it because we ate her cookies? Do we owe her for that?”

“No, not at all,” Curtis quickly asserts. “Not one bit of this is because of you. And those cookies were freely given.”

“Do you love her?”

Curtis pauses at that question. He’s been so busy thinking about his brother, his Pack, the pups, he hasn’t really thought about his actual feelings about her. The temporary bond is almost completely gone but it could still be coloring his feelings so he chooses his words carefully.

“I don’t know that it’s love, but I do know that I trust her. I feel comfortable around her. She’s honest, strong, caring, comforting, smart. She’s definitely changed my perspective on Omegas.” He stops when he hears the pups giggling and gives them a confused look.

“You were smiling,” Timmy giggled. “You do like her! You don’t smile for anyone you don’t like!” 

“Thats…Okay, you’re right. I’m not much of a smiler.”

“Curtis is in love!” the kids chant for a bit while Tanya and Andrew are trying not to laugh. The teasing continues well into the night, well after they should all be asleep, but Curtis doesn’t push it. He wants to enjoy these moments while he can.

--Part 8--

Tagging @every-username-is-taken-damnit, per request.