#architecture of loss

[gcsly]

[peninkwrites]

The Green Room - Ch 3 of 4

Showfall Media’s recasting process starts with a trip to the green room. There, cast members are offered the truth before the slate is wiped clean…

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 4

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE - RECASTING 104

“Hello, Charlie!  It’s good to see you again,” a cheerful voice jars him awake.

Charlie sits up sharply, heart already racing, body remembering things his mind can’t.  He feels something constricting his chest, tightening around his wrists, even his ankles.  “W-What…?  Why am I… Why am I tied down?!  Why can’t I move?” Charlie tugs desperately against the bindings around his body.

“Hi, Charlie,” a woman sits across from him with a clipboard, smiling.  “You’re tied down because you have a history of quickly getting violent when you start to remember, but I’m sure you can figure as much from how you’re struggling right now! I’m going to try to move fast, jump-start the process, we’re pretty good at it by now, huh?”

“What’re you… What’re you even saying?” Charlie can’t explain the panic gripping him, but he knows this is wrong, this is bad, but that doesn’t change the fact that he cannot move.

“Charlie, I am a technician who works for Showfall Media.  You call me Dr. Smith,” she says gently.  “We’ve met and talked many times before, you just don’t remember.”

“Where’s…” Charlie’s chest feels very tight, old pain digging into him, not merely internally, but it feels like his skin is pulled too taught, phantom claw marks digging into his back, wrapping around his torso.  “Where are they?”

“Where’s who, Charlie?” The woman asks.

“Where are the others?” Charlie feels dread deep in his gut.  “Do you… do you have Ranboo?”

“The others are alive.  They’re fine, Charlie.  They’re either in their Green Rooms being prepped for recasting, or they’re waiting for their next roles,” Dr. Smith looks slightly puzzled.  “Hm.  You don’t usually ask about specific costars, but I guess this last role you had, you really bonded with Ranboo as the Hero, huh?”  She laughs.

Charlie feels sick.  “Roles?  I don’t… I don’t understand.  I don’t know what’s happening,” he has a tremor in his voice, even as he feels like this is not a place for weakness.

“You will,” she says simply.  “This is the part where you listen.”

Charlie glances frantically around the room, it’s irritatingly calm, furnished with padded wooden chairs, almost like a waiting room.  They’re alone, as far as he can tell.  He looks down at his own body and sees thick straps holding him in place.  There’s no way he could tear free, he sees no escape, so he slumps back, weary.

“Listen to… listen to what?”

“Hm, we could call it a recap of sorts.  You’re one of our oldest cast members, so there’s a lot to fill in, but we also are really good at this by now, huh?” She says, voice sickly sweet.  “What do you remember, Charlie?”

“What… I don’t… I don’t remember.  I don’t remember fucking anything, alright?!  I don’t… I don’t understand what’s happening.  Who the fuck are you?” Charlie sounds more pleading than angry.

“I told you who I am.  Are you asking who Showfall is?”

“And you’d tell me?  If I asked, you’d tell me what Showfall is?” Charlie says it like a challenge rather than a question.

“Of course.  You can ask me questions.  Whatever you like, and I will help you fill in the gaps,” she says with a knowing smile.

“I don’t… I don’t want you to tell me.  They’re my memories, I should fucking remember them!” Charlie shouts at her, still trying uselessly to tug free.

“Yes, that complaint I still don’t quite understand.  Obviously, you don’t remember them, so, what’s the harm in hearing it from me?”  She asks.

Charlie falters.  “Still?”

“Yes, Charlie.  Still.  I knew you would say that.  You always do,” she nods, as if satisfied.

Charlie’s anger is swallowed by panic then swallowed by dread.  There’s a long pause, as she waits for him to reply as he has many times before.  “Always?”

“Yes, Charlie,” she speaks with endless patience.  Every time, the terror is new for Charlie, but for her, it’s part of the routine.  “Always.”

Charlie pauses, trying to piece together with what little memory he does have.  “Showfall… Showfall made all this.”

“Correct.”

“And… it was a show.  All of it was a show.”

“Correct.  And you were following a script, and whatever story you currently have in your head is not quite the truth, and no, you don’t have a family or anyone waiting on the outside for you.  Although,” she laughs, “waiting would imply if you did have a family, you would have access to them again one day, but that’s simply not true.”

One by one, she answers his next questions.  She knew what he was going to ask, because he always asks.  Charlie is stunned, frozen save for his frantic breathing.  “This is… this is fucked,”  he laughs, voice high and frantic.  “This is totally fucked!”

“Mhm,” she is neutral, not attempting to defend the company nor admonish its immortality.  “How is your memory looking?  Sometimes if I go too fast it doesn’t start coming back immediately.”

Charlie’s mind is not an empty cavity, there are memories, memories that contradict and overlap, memories he cannot trust.  “I’ve been here… I’ve been here for so fucking long, right?” He’s still pleading, maybe for a different answer.

“Yes.  A very long time,” she waits for him to continue.  “See, I shouldn’t have led the conversation like that.  I should have just let you repeat as needed.  So, go ahead!  Ask what you’re going to ask,” she says brightly.

Charlie remembers the cabin.  He remembers being a child there.  He remembers the walls always had ghosts, he just didn’t realize that included a camera.  The role he played couldn’t have been the cabin.  It was the devil, it was the slime and the absurdity and the cruelty he remembers with distaste, but the cabin… The cabin was fake too.  He remembers seeing the set just before… just before the pain set in.  He remembers the cabin being real, too.  Not merely when he found himself emptied of all impulses except mischief, but of older memories.  Much older.  Those memories too are distorted and strange, little shreds of understanding.  Sleeping underneath the bare wooden rafters, playing with toys, his little bike.  The whispering from the walls keeping him up at night.  If he was there as a boy, if that’s where he grew up, then why can’t he picture his mother’s face?  Why are there only this bare shards of memory, never something to be called a whole person?  Charlie tries to search for a life within himself, but there’s only the pieces.  His entire life, broken like that stupid jar of ashes… He maybe had a grandmother, but he doesn’t remember her, he only remembers the ashes.  “I don’t… I don’t remember anything before… before this.  It’s just… it’s just bad, it’s just lot’s of bad a-and nothing from before.  When do I… when do I start remembering before?” Charlie asks.

She has an answer ready.  “Well, most people even without rewrites don’t remember very much that far back.”

Charlie feels nauseous.  It reminds him of claws embedded in his chest.  “How… how far back?”

“Coming up on 19 years now!  Don’t worry, I haven’t been here that whole time, before me, there was someone else who was assigned to you, and before then, someone else.  And, before you ask, that means you joined Showfall when you were five years old.  You, of course, weren’t part of any of our productions until you were much older, it was more like… you were in training.  No, we do not have any record of your parents.  We have no idea who they were, but no one has coming looking for you, not even back then, so it doesn’t really matter, now, does it?”

“Why’d… why’d you say don’t worry?  Is that supposed to… to fucking reassure me?” Charlie buries the tremor in his voice and tries to fill it with anger.

She shrugs.  “Sometimes it does.  If I didn’t say that, you’d get freaked out, try to hold me responsible,” she laughs.  “When, we both know I’m just doing my job, I’m just a cog in a much bigger machine.”

Charlie tries to think, he tries to piece together what little he can gather, and he finds only pain.  “There was… there was the cabin, I don’t understand that, but that was… oh god, it gets worse… it gets so much fucking worse, on the table, on the… the operating table, why did I sound like that?” Charlie asks desperately.  “It’s… two memories, it just sort of goes… it blurs together.  I was talking to Ranboo, but I was also screaming, I was begging him to stop, I wanted it to stop, but at the same time––like, the exact same fucking time––I felt nothing.  I just… I just talked to him.  How does that… how does that make any sense?”

“Well done, Charlie.  See, Showfall has a wonderful process that allows us to have both post-production footage and live footage coexisting simultaneously,” Dr. Smith sounds almost excited now, ready to gush about the magic of Showfall Media.  “We cannot fully erase your body’s reaction to, say, disembowelment, but you just screaming the whole time doesn’t make for good TV, of course, so post-production programs you before the show, to act you know, entertaining, while your body and mind still react to the trauma being inflicted, all at once!”

“S-So… so what you did to me, what… what you had Ranboo do, that… that wasn’t fake?”

“None of it was fake.  We here at Showfall value authenticity.”

Charlie nods slowly, eyes swimming, words choked and weak, “so… so what I remember, the cabin, that was real?  But I… I saw the cameras a-and the missing wall, it was a fucking set, but what I remember, it’s– Fuck, my head feels so fuzzy…”

“Well, that exact backstory wasn’t fully accurate, but the best way to make a sturdy backstory is with grains of truth.  You grew up somewhere like that, but yes, it did have a 4th wall.  In the literal sense, not the philosophical sense, of course.”  Dr. Smith stands.  “Scent and taste are some of the greatest triggers for memory.  Would you like a mint?  You’ve had one here before.  They’re nice, see?”  She takes one from the bowl on the coffee table and puts it in her mouth, as if to prove it’s not poisoned.

Charlie shakes his head.  “I don’t… I don’t have parents.  So, who raised me?”

“Showfall did.”

“No, no I mean–”

“Who exactly, I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes.  “I thought I already clarified this, I’ll do better next time,” she makes a note on her clipboard.  “You didn’t have a singular guardian.  They worked in shifts, Charlie.  There is no one person you can pretend is a parent.”

“That’s… that’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“You’re looking for a family, correct?  Or, as I said, maybe just someone to blame?  Usually it’s one of those two.”

“Will you just let me fucking answer?!  Just– Just stop saying it for me!” Charlie snaps.  Weaker, he stares at the faded carpet.  “You… you said you would stop.”

“You’re right.  I apologize.”  Insincere.  She sits back down across from him.

“I… I remember.  I remember some… stuff,” Charlie starts out unsteadily, still refusing to look up at her.  He feels like there are lines of hot wire across his back and his stomach, phantom claw marks he remembers well.  It could have actually been hot wires at the time too.

“Go on.”

“I remember… I was in my office… but it wasn’t my office, it was… it was a mall, but I didn’t realize it… not until Ranboo grabbed me…  I couldn’t see it, not until… Fuck, that doesn’t make sense, how can… how can something look different from one fucking second to the next?!”

“I said I’d answer your questions, but that one, the science is way above my paygrade.  In that instance, your headphones played something that you were programmed to respond to in a certain way.  Not that that was necessary, it was just useful to ensure you reacted the right way when Ranboo took the headphones off.  I can’t explain much better than that,” she at least sounds apologetic.  “Regardless, your office…” she laughs.  “It isn’t real.  You realize that, don’t you?  That was your office.  The details, the home outside that office, that part was… as I said, edited in post.”

Charlie stares at her, baffled and anguished.  “My… my whole f-fucking life… none of it is real.”

She smiles, condescending pity radiating.  “It’s as real as you are, Charlie.”

“I just want to be a person!” He pleads, choking back tears, throat still raw from screaming on that operating table he so vividly remembers.  “An actual… an actual fucking human being!”

She sighs, and she looks terribly kind as she stares at him.  “You don’t even know what that is.  You’ve been here far too long for that.”

“I…” That seems to stun him out of it a bit.  He feels sick.

“Let’s focus on what you remember, Charlie.”

“No!  No, I don’t… I don’t care, I know it’s not… I don’t remember, I don’t, I want…” Charlie trails off, hanging weakly from the chair.  He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, what he’s hoping will come of this.

“What do you remember?  It will help, I promise.”

Charlie finally nods.  He doesn’t look at her.  “I remember… the kitchen.  That kitchen, in the cabin.  The…” Charlie closes his eyes, two intersecting versions of the same place overlapping and creating a fog in his head.  “The door into the basement was wrong.  In the… in the fake one.  That door, it was supposed to open onto the top of the stairs, not…” His eyebrows furrow.  “Not right into the basement, it doesn’t make any sense.  It’s not a basement.”

“Well done, Charlie,” the woman almost sounds teasing.  “The set could not have an actual basement, obviously.  Just as it couldn’t have an actual attic.”

“But I remember…”

“Yes, you remember the Cabin being laid out like an actual building, but the actual set had to work differently, see?”

“That… that doesn’t make sense.  I… I remember…” Charlie finds it harder to catch his breath, as two layouts overlap, creating something almost impossible in his mind, his comprehension wanes, his vision blurs.  “It doesn’t make sense!  It doesn’t make sense!  It can’t be… It can’t!”  He gasps for air, screaming until his lungs ache.

Dr. Smith stares at his hysterics with mild alarm, but not anything like concern.  “I’ll make a note about set design for next time, clearly, the contradiction is too much,” she says by way of comfort.

“My head… my head f-fucking hurts.  It’s the same door, it’s the same fucking door but it opens on stairs and!  And it goes right in the basement and there’s no fucking fourth wall!” Charlie laughs, high and hysterical, vision blurring as tears finally spill free.  “It doesn’t make… any  sense… Any sense…”

“Charlie, please calm down, or I’ll have to sedate you.  That will put off your recasting, and undo our work here, and make the whole process much more unpleasant,” Dr. Smith tries to talk loudly over his babbling.

“It’s broken!  It’s all fucking broken!  I can’t remember, I can’t––it hurts!” He yanks against the restraints even as he feels sharp pain, as his skin breaks and blood beads around them.

“Sedate him,” Dr. Smith snaps her fingers and a masked figure enters the room.

“Stay away from me!  Stay the fuck away!” Charlie struggles desperately, trying to pull away when the figure grabs his head, pushing it to the side, exposing his neck.  Charlie sees a needle.  Then the room starts to blur.  He can’t scream anymore.

Dr. Smith’s voice continues through the haze.  “I’m sorry about this, Charlie.  We’ll be more careful with set design next time.  And next time we meet, I’ll make sure you have a mint, hm?  Things tend to go better when you do.”

Charlie cannot protest, he cannot scream anymore.  “Normally, he’s much better behaved.  He hasn’t gotten aggressive like this since we introduced the new restraints.”  Her voice is fuzzy now too.  She isn’t talking to him.  His wrists don’t hurt anymore either, instead, a staticky numbness has spread. “We should definitely be more careful with the architecture.  And be extra rigorous with his recasting, brutal, even, considering how bad it got this time.”   Blackness eats away at his vision until he can’t see.  It’s getting harder to hear.  His chest hurts.  “I know the showrunners won’t love waiting on the recovery time, but better than a breakdown like this happening live…”

And then, as always, there is nothing.

[starswallowingsea]

im gonna try and finish vampires of el norte tomorrow since its my day off and i need to pick my next book so... not doing my botm books this time i'll pick those up again after i need to do something thats not a new release or i'll go insane

every bone a prayer

the architecture of loss

villa americana

belleweather

the lost girls

the ojibwa dance drum

[mossy-covered-bones]

I absolutely cannot contribute my fair share to an architecture discussion as I know 0 about it but I would be 100% happy to listen

No thats totally fine i spent almost two hours rambling w my mom abt sociopolitical associations of some styles and she isnt too familiar either

But uh. I have many opinions i would love to share. On roofs and silhouettes. Gods i have so many thoughts about roofs

I will say the passion projects ive done have focused on the us and the western influences so my familiarity w architecture is very eurocentric but alas

First off: im generally a fan of gabled roofs. I like the triangles. Around 20 degrees is probably ideal

Also like. Look at this house its beautiful. Italianate fucks so hard, look at those windows! The tower!

Italianate actually tends towards really shallow hipped roofs, which i really love. Im not a huge fan of hipped roofs but the low angles + floor variation really sells it

Places hipped roofs do NOT look cool are the steeper angles in more uniform roofs, like in the classic ranch style shapes. Look at them. Wheres the flavor. These guys never even have covered porches, just garages too big for the building theyre attached to. I have mixed feelings abt ranch style

Like look how much flavor suburban houses add to their roofs. Yes suburbs objectively suck and only the street side looks good but the street side looks Very Good. All the gables and the intersections between the two different directions and that nice shaped dormer on the left. Huge fan of gabled dormers, the slanted roofed ones just dont hit the same

Also, and dont hate me for this, but i dont like craftsman style houses. Look at them. Their roofs arent as steep as suburban houses, w the 35-45 degree roofs necessary to provide enough variation between the many sections. Theyre just less interesting and so overdone—its like every western states upper middle class nuclear family ever, yknow? The style and colors have so little variation. You can do better, more inspired styles with those large wooden beams

Okay but back to silhouettes—one thing that never fails to improve a building are towers. Just look at the square italianate towers above, and look at the romantic area ~ideal fantasy castle~

(Fun fact the second picture is schloss newschwannstein. Ive been there its awesome and they really lean in ti the romantic aesthetic)

Like they add these nice little variations in form and height, rounded areas in seas of rectangles, and theyve got those awesome pointed roofs. Whats not to love, towers never lose. Also i just really love romantic architecture

Plus like. Scottish baronial style? Its romantic AND victorian inspired. Doesnt get any sexier than that

Look at the roof lines, the formers, the shapes. And those little tower protrusions on the right one, the tourelles? Those look so cool and theyve VERY typical to this style i love it. I love all the little variations of romanticism, especially the quainter Arts and Crafts style the gardens are always so beautiful

I am unfortunately out of image space so uh. Please feel free to ask me follow up questions! I love talking abt this shit and i have SO many opinions. And i love talking in general

Im trying ti get better at identifying styles rn too so lotsa wikipedia and photos its great

[athousandpagesyettoread]

In my house of loneliness, your laughter echoes.

There's a creek that runs by my house.

It gurgles along and for a second I can almost convince myself of the hummed song under your breath.

It ebbs and it flows, the moon beckoning the memories it holds.

It flows to the ocean and takes along with it the dirt from your soaked socks.

One of the windows doesn't quite shut.

You stuffed the gap with a blanket made of yarn scraps and now the wind howls through the room.

I called a repairman to come fix it but I couldn't get up to open the door because what if you come back and see that we no longer need to wear socks and slide along the floor.

So I leave the window cracked open and I cover myself with the blanket you left behind.

There is an alcove on the upper floor.

It's covered by a bedraggled and mouse eaten curtain made of soft peach cloth.

We hung it up one afternoon and you joked that we could sneak into the recess and kiss at the parties we hosted.

I remember the one time we slipped behind the satiny cloth the air grew thick and you did everything but moan in fear of getting caught.

The old fireplace has gathered dust.

You fell in love with the house because of the quaint stone mantelpiece and I fell in love with you.

The stockings from last Christmas are still waiting for Santa to fill them in late July.

It has been years since the firewood has crackled happily but sometimes the walls of the house settle and I can imagine that the sound is the roar of a fire.

In the house of my loneliness, your laughter still echoes.

[fitforestfairy]

North Devon, UK 🌿

[jcmarchi]

How SASE Plays an Important Role in Addressing New Cyber Threats - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/how-sase-plays-an-important-role-in-addressing-new-cyber-threats-technology-org/

How SASE Plays an Important Role in Addressing New Cyber Threats - Technology Org

Cyber threats continue to evolve and become more difficult to address. The advent of more advanced artificial intelligence is making attacks worse in quantity and sophistication. Organizations have to contend with the reality of incessant attacks that only get worse over time, especially as they embrace more complex IT infrastructure that involve multiple cloud assets and SaaS solutions.

Cyber threats, cybersecurity – illustrative artistic photo. Image credit: Tima Miroshnichenko via Pexels, free license

With IT resources now located on the cloud and away from the protection of on-premises security solutions, it is important to adopt security tools that extend into resources wherever they may be. This is where the Secure Access Service Edge (SASE) solution comes into play. This security concept was introduced in 2019 by consulting firm Gartner, and has since become one of the most dependable security solutions for modern enterprises. It brings network security together with wide-area networking (WAN) functions to provide protection against a wide range of new threats. It offers a unified way to address various cyber attacks without compromising connectivity.

SASE’s approach in cyber defense

SASE is designed to address the weaknesses in the traditional hub-and-spoke network architecture, wherein traffic is usually routed through centralized data centers and security appliances. This arrangement is associated with a number of challenges, particularly the emergence of latency problems, reduced security efficacy, and increased infrastructure complexity.

With SASE, various network security functions are integrated with WAN capabilities to ensure secure access to apps and resources irrespective of their location. Secure Access Server Edge provides a comprehensive and adaptive cybersecurity approach that effectively addresses possible cyber attacks.

SASE’s defense model centers on the following key goals: the reduction of the complexity of using multiple network security tools, flexibility and scalability in protecting systems, and zero trust. These goals help attain key advantages that define SASE’s role in addressing new cyber threats.

Simplifying the complexity

One of the biggest challenges in the way organizations address security threats is the use of multiple cybersecurity products. They can result in cybersecurity tool bloat, which makes security operations inefficient. It is difficult to manage several tools and keep up with all the security incident alerts and related notifications. They pose a complexity problem that can be addressed with the help of SASE.

SASE provides a unified interface for the management of multiple security tools. It makes it easy to manage Firewall-as-a-Service, secure web gateways, data loss prevention systems, cloud access security brokers, and various other tools. Additionally, it enables centralized security policy orchestration and enforcement wherein administrators define granular access controls and security policies based on various factors for consistent enforcement across the entire network architecture.

It also leverages threat intelligence feeds from various sources, consolidating all relevant threat information to optimize their impact on threat detection. SASE also conducts advanced analytics in real-time to extract insights from threat intelligence beyond the threat identities. Through machine learning and behavioral analysis technologies, it is possible to anticipate threats or detect obscure vulnerabilities that would otherwise be overlooked given the multitude of security solutions used in an organization at the same time.

It is also worth noting that SASE emphasizes identity-driven security. It focuses on the identity of users and devices instead of prioritizing traditional network perimeters to determine the areas to be protected. It maximizes the use of identity and access management (IAM) tools to enforce granular controls and detect threats more accurately with the help of contextual information. This identity-focused defense does not only improve threat prevention; it also simplifies the complexities that come with using multiple threat detection solutions.

Ensuring scalability and flexibility

Another major challenge for cybersecurity at present is the need to adjust to the changing demands for cyber protection. Cybersecurity has to be dynamic and scalable. It must be capable of agilely keeping up with the changes in an organization’s IT infrastructure and expanding potential attack surfaces. It also needs to be flexible to address security across different platforms.

SASE provides the scalability and flexibility modern organizations need to ensure adequate cyber defense with its cloud-native protection. It integrates various security functions as a cloud-native service that can be used to secure systems in different locations. This cloud service can provide security across a variety of platforms, making it unnecessary for organizations to install security solutions locally and undertake maintenance routines per device.

Additionally, SASE delivers edge-centric security. This means that it brings security enforcement in close proximity to the users and devices, near the edge of the network. Instead of routing all traffic through centralized data centers, security controls are implemented at the edge. This results in significant improvements on latency and performance, ensuring faster responses to threats or attacks. This also infers the possibility of continuous threat monitoring and response. SASE platforms can include advanced capabilities to detect and remediate threats by continuously tracking network traffic and user behavior.

Moreover, SASE helps achieve optimized WAN connectivity while securing connections. It integrates software-defined wide area networking (SD-WAN) to dynamically choose the most efficient network paths based on the network conditions and what the apps require, ensuring the quality of connections between users and apps. This ensures consistent access to resources even in remote branch locations, which is important as the IT infrastructure of organizations keeps broadening  with the adoption of new technologies and expansion of operations.

Implementing zero-trust security

SASE is also associated with zero-trust security, a crucial cybersecurity principle designed to combat the evolving sophistication of modern cyber threats. Security posture management systems that include SASE implement security scanning mechanisms that take away any presumption of regularity. No access or resource request is considered safe regardless of who makes the request. Everything is examined for possible anomalies or indications of malicious action.

Also, the zero-trust principle comes with the enforcement of the principle of least privilege, wherein the access privileges granted are always kept at a minimum. Users are only given the exact level of access or privileges they need to complete specific tasks to make sure that privileges are not abused or exploited especially in insider attacks.

Security without performance compromises

Secure Access Server Edge provides protection that competently addresses existing and emerging threats. Its cloud-native nature makes it suitable for the IT infrastructure of most modern organizations. The integration of multiple security tools under a unified interface simplifies the management of multiple security solutions while maximizing their impact on an organization’s overall security posture. Also, its edge-centric security approach makes it highly scalable and flexible and the implementation of zero-trust security makes SASE in-tune with the cybersecurity best practices at present. Importantly, SASE delivers all of these without having a noticeable impact on network performance.

[minutesshow]

Start your day with a healthy breakfast to kickstart your metabolism! What's your go-to morning meal? Share it with us! 🥑🍳

[ukdamo]

Art Deco Sonnet

Jacqueline Osherow

(In South Beach, Remembering the Tyson)

O dream palaces of my mother’s childhood – O sleekness, O pizzazz, O mirrors, O chrome, O remnant inklings of a light-struck world that deemed a moving picture an occasion (O Gable, Harlow, Harpo, Garbo, Bogart) for sculpture, frieze, mosaic, mohair velvet, carpets lush with fronds – royal palm or fern, somewhat worse for wear by the time we’d tread them, my sister and I, to bask in Day and Hudson with our shared Night’n Day or Baby Ruth. When it closed, Mirow’s Furs bought the Tyson, put a mink-clad mannequin in the ticket booth, restored the murals, fixtures, sleek décor now long since gutted for an outlet store.

[emfshield]

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[thebookhut04]

When we lose someone we love, we don’t look up the sky to see the fireworks, we look up to our angels!

[cirrus-grey]

A theory:

Category: What caused this incident?

Category 1: Direct interference from the OIAR or one of its affiliates. (Bonzo, Needles, the person who reanimated Arthur Winstead)

Category 2: The location where it happened was marked. (Guy who turned into a tree, the charity shop, the liminal architecture)

Category 3: The victim walked into it on their own. (Violinist, dice guy, finance app guy)

Rank: What was the result of this incident?

Rank A: Net positive. There will be a price to pay. (RedCanary is the only A)

Rank B: Net negative. There is a benefit to reap. (Bonzo, Needles, dice guy, finance app guy, horror movie guy...)

Rank C: Net neutral. This incident balanced itself. (Guy that turned into a tree, violinist, charity shop)

Combined categories have more than one cause. RedCanary (23) went to a marked location, and chose to investigate the symbols they found. Gordon (23) chose to investigate the corpse, but was also affected by the cliffside location.

Combined ranks balance differently depending on whose perspective you take. Harriet (BC) was terrified of her reanimated husband, but Arthur had a balanced experience between being reanimated and losing parts of himself. Daria (BC) had a negative experience with Ink5oul, but balanced their own cost/benefit relationship with the tattoo. RedCanary (AB) had nothing but negatives after going to the Institute... but something else benefited from it.

-

Two notes:

1) Both dice guy and finance app guy successfully balanced their experiences as long as they rode the catastrophe curve between loss and profit. It was only when they tried to break the cycle that the final (deadly) negative blow came. This contrasts with the violinist, who reaped the benefits and paid the price willingly into old age.

2) The trailer with Sam's job interview was marked as Category 1, Rank B.

[vixensp1ce]

fem!reader, uni au

There's a stranger in your bed, and he's fucking you better than any of your boyfriends have before.

Veritas Ratio pistons into your abused cunt, puffy and raw from his tongue, fingers, and cock. It's slender but long, almost elegant in shape, reaching so deep into you that you're nearly satisfied by him bottoming out alone.

But you're not so easily filled. And it's part of the reason why you're out on town, having finally freed yourself of your previous boyfriend, looking for a good dick to get fucked by.

But no one told you a stranger's dick would be this insane.

"Giving up already?" Everything Veritas says manages to sound judgemental and disappointed. You squeeze tighter around him, whimpering as your pussy protests, but he doesn't even crack an inch. "Slut."

He has you crumpled, exhausted, every muscle twitching from your past orgasms, and still he shows no sign of stopping.

"Can't even cum for me." Those long, deft fingers release their grip on your hair. You lurch forward with a whine of relief - at least until his hand creeps down to your cunt.

"Don't- please- ah, ah, ah~"

He rubs harsh circles into your clit. Sparks rush up into your belly, slamming you shut on his hard, hard dick, the knot ready to snap.

He groans, one of a limited range of sounds you've heard from him this night, and if it was even possible, his strokes get even faster. "Don't, my ass. Make me cum, you little bi- hrrrrrrph."

The knot unravels. "Veri, Veri, please, ah, please-"

A syrupy warmth spills out over your back, and his scent fills your nose again. You whimper, legs trembling, flashing hot and cold as your pussy spasms emptily from your orgasm.

Finally, he lets go. You collapse shakily, turning over.

He's hunched over you, purple strands concealing his expression as he ducks his head to catch his breath. There's a full moon high in the sky, and even the streets have gone quiet on this Friday evening. Or Saturday morning.

Veritas lowers himself slowly onto the mattress next to you, the only indication that he'd ever exerted himself the sheen of perspiration on his forehead. His amber eyes pass impersonally over you, roving over your room as if it were his.

That was how he typically was, you'd learnt. Veritas Ratio was indifferent, coldly analytical towards the softer parts of humanity. Even in the club, he hadn't had much to say about anything except "It's too loud in here."

He was an architecture major something-or-other, handsome in the same way his blueprints were - all flat planes and sharp angles. Veritas had been eyed by a number of girls all over campus (and professors too, so it was rumoured), but his chilling attitude toward each and every one of them had spoken its own message.

Then you'd gone out with some course friends to a club. His liquid amber eyes flashed blue, green, pink under the club lights, digging into the flesh visible just above your thigh-high boots, and you'd decided, hey, why not?

His phone buzzes insistently somewhere in the room. Veritas sighs impatiently, climbing over you to rummage for his possessions. You're too sore to move much and the sudden loss of warmth stirs up an unwelcome hint of disappointment.

You listen to him move around your room for a moment. Warm breath on your ear gives you reason to turn over.

"I have to go now," he says, face inches from yours. You jump in surprise, clutching your blankets to your chest.

"Already?" Maybe you should have expected it. "Do you need a shower first?"

He hesitates. "...That would be nice, thank you."

You wave a hand lazily in the direction of the bathroom, watching him go. "And raise the door up before you latch it!" you call after him.

You hear the brief sounds of struggle, then Veritas manages. The sound of running water starts shortly after.

You let yourself lie for a moment longer, then groan and get up. The sheets and laundry would need to be washed, the house cleaned, and your work for school still needed to be tackled.

You're in the kitchen, doing the dishes, when you hear the front door open and shut.

[olivyh]

Does nobody in this house knock?

A/N: I've had this idea in mind for a while, and I've been on an Obey Me kick recently- I love these boys so much and they're so fun to write for (although consistently including six/seven people in one story is a bit of a challenge). This is supposed to be read as platonic but could go either way tbh. GN mc as always loves <3

Slight TW: For nudity (nothing serious really happens MC is just taking a bath and the brothers don't know what privacy is)

The House of Lamentation had its ups and downs- of course, the place was massive, which came with a plethora of spaces to crawl into if you wanted a moment of silence or needed a pretty room to study in. The kitchen was just as spacious- you were sure you couldn't use up all the counter space if you wanted to. The architecture was gorgeous and you could stare at the paintings that littered the halls all day (you wouldn't dare, though, after being told that some of them dislike the attention and could curse you if you stare for too long). Similarly, your room was one of your favorite spots in the house (along with Asmo's bathroom, which you were one of the lucky few to get the privilege of using when he wasn't having one of his frequent spa days. You also enjoyed wandering around the mansion (which, sadly, you were banned from doing after getting lost in one of the never-ending hallways and ending up deep underground, leading you to tearfully call Mammon and a house-wide scramble to find you before another one of Levi's rogue pets did). 

The downs were, naturally, the lack of private time. Despite how big the house was, everywhere you went one of the brothers seemed to conveniently be heading in that same direction or even already in that room. Did you want a snack in the kitchen? Beel was three steps ahead of you, and already inviting you out to Madam Screams after he cleans out the fridge. Need to study in the library? Satan just so happened to be going there as well (did he not have enough in his room? You thought almost bitterly at the loss of your time). Wanted to nap in the planetarium? You trip over a passed-out Belphie (why was he sleeping in the doorway?) and end up with a bloody nose from the impact. Wanted to sit in the common room? Levi was already there, playing Devil Cart on what looked like the Devildom's version of a switch with Mammon. If you wanted to study at the dining room table, Asmo would find you and all but drag you to his room for an impromptu game of dress-up. You'd thought going to the eldest would at least leave you alone, opting to study in his office until he'd corrected you on your posture and the way your shirt was hanging loosely off one shoulder more than the other every time, occasionally asking you questions relating to your work and not-so-subtly correcting every wrong answer you'd made (even if you never fully finished the problem). 

The brothers, however, knew that one time of the week was off limits- Saturday nights. You would often slip away and claim the shared bathroom for hours at a time, lighting candles and filling the bath until it was just high enough for you to soak up to your shoulders in. Of course, this was met with very little resistance (especially considering that all seven brothers somehow shared one bathroom with one toilet, which always baffled you. Though, you were certain that Lucifer had one of his own and was neglecting to let the others know). It never clashed with the nights Beel would come back from the gym in desperate need of a shower, or the nights Asmo would stumble back to the house covered in lipstick stains and reeking cheap perfume, or when Mammon would return covered head-to-toe in mud from walking Cerberus. You needed your time, you had told them. And they'd obliged. So, you'd set up a small routine to relax.  

Which was exactly what you were doing. You slip out of your silk robe (gifted by Asmo, naturally) and take a step onto the stool. The shared bathtub was absolutely massive, and you had to shyly ask Lucifer if he had a stool you could use just so you didn't have to climb into the damned thing the first week here. At a distance, it looked normal until... you stepped closer and realized that it wasn't. Although, you supposed it made sense considering how large the brothers were, especially Beel. It was hard picturing him fitting into a normal-sized tub, especially remembering that he struggled to submerge himself fully in the one they already had. Chuckling to yourself, you gingerly lowered yourself into the warm water with a sigh as you feel the pressures of the day melt away into the bubbly water.

The candlelight is the only thing illuminating the room, and the soft sounds of the water splashing against the side of the tub is nearly enough to lull you to a soft sleep if you'd decided to give in to the temptation. The brothers seem to be quieter than usual as well tonight, as you would normally hear some kind of yelling while bathed in the silence of the bathroom. You gently kick your feet in the water and watch as the ripple shines in the gentle candlelight. 

The water in the Devildom had shocked you with its opalescent gleam the first time you'd seen it, worried about drinking it. It had reminded you of the colorful outline left from oil slicks in puddles after it would rain. You were relieved to learn that it wasn't toxic, now basking in the slight glow that it gave your skin and the way it soothed any aches that you had. 

It was the perfect night, but you'd regretted not grabbing a snack to keep with you, or a glass of Demonus to drink while you soaked (even though you wouldn't get drunk and it tasted more like a spicy grape juice, you still felt fancy).

"Oh my stars, hon, you would never guess what happened!" You're shaken out of your thoughts as Asmo's shrill voice rings through the open doorway He makes his way over to the bath, pulling up the chair that sat in the corner of the room and you try to hide your growing annoyance. He leans over the edge of the tub, teasing his fingers in the water and playing with the bubbles. "So I was at the Fall, right-"

"Asmo," You say, a quiet warning. 

"And he really thought he could get away with trying to get between me and this other guy! Like, how dumb could you be? So anyways I turned to him and-"

"Asmo!" The demon pouts, folding his arms on the warm porcelain and resting his head on them, looking up at you through thick eyelashes. "I'm naked."

"I'm aware," He huffs, pursing his lips. "I've seen you bare before, love. Even if I hadn't, your body is not unappealing." He winks and you feel your face heat up. "So back to what I was saying-"

"MC!" Another shout and you groan, sinking deeper into the bath. "You're never gonna guess what I just did! I won the horse races! Highest bet, baby!" Mammon pumps his fist in the air as he beams, mussed hair likely from nervously running his hands through it. 

"You're interrupting my story, you ass!" Asmo shouts. 

"This is more important than your dumb story, drama queen!"

"Mammon!" You grumble. "Bathing?" He doesn't seem to hear you, though, as he continues to pace around the room, recalling every small detail about the race. His keychain clicks against the chains that loop from his belt, the clinking ringing through the room and grating on your nerves even more. Asmo continues to mindlessly play with the bubbles, even raising a soft hand to place a small crown of bubbles atop your head. You take it as a quiet apology from the demon. 

"I finally finished the book you'd asked me about-" Satan, as perceptive as he is, seems to understand your harsh glare from within the bath as he walks confidently through the open door (courtesy of Mammon and his excited forgetfulness). "And I'm aware that this is your time but I simply could not wait another moment-" He sits beside Asmo, nearly pushing the smaller man off the chair. The latter gasps dramatically, rounded lips forming a harsh 'o' shape as he holds his hand over his heart, offended as ever.

"Hey! I wasn't done yet!" Mammon huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at his younger brother. 

"You are now," He sneers before slipping open his book, reading through various notes and post-its he left buried within the pages. "Now, this scene in particular really stuck with me, and I'd very much like to hear your thoughts on it. It's when the protagonist-"

"Mc," Another quiet, almost apologetic voice from the doorway. Beel stands, nearly taking up the entire entrance, with armfuls of chips as he empties a bag into his mouth and tosses it into the trash near the sink. "I felt like you were hungry, so I got you something to eat," He holds out another bag and you take it, sighing as you fumble to open it and dig in. 

"Thanks, big guy," He hums before sitting cross-legged on the floor beside a still dejected Mammon, offering the older a bag as well. You don't have it in you to be annoyed at the gentle giant, and you were getting a little hungry, after all. 

"Anyways, back to my story-" Asmo begins, filling up the silence. 

"I didn't finish either," The second born growls through a mouthful of chips. 

"Finish eating, and Asmo, you were here first, you did your time and now it's my turn-" Satan shuts both of them down. 

"I wanna tell them about practice-" Beel interjects, moving on to another bag of chips. "I did a really cool move where-"

"Mc!" Another familiar voice joins the fray. "SoIwaswatchingthatshowyoutoldmeaboutandIthoughtitwasreallycoolandthere's-" Levi takes a gasping breath before continuing. "Areallyreallyreallycoolshowcaseonitinthehumanworldcomingupandweshoulddefinitelygo-"

"Levi, sweetheart, please breathe." You remind him, sinking deeper into the bath until it's just your eyes and nose peeking out from the surface of the water, glad that it muffles the sound a bit. 

"We should definitely go and wear matching costumes like the main characters and it'll be really cool and I already have an idea on how to make the props and it'll take a bit of time but we can definitely get it done in time and-"

"Ignore him," Satan sighs. "Anyways, I believe this scene is incredible I mean, did you see the wording in the second to last paragraph? It was so emotional I could hardly believe that he was faking it the whole time and-"

"My love, I never finished telling my story!" Asmo whines, pulling at your knee, which escaped from the water and is exposed to the chill of the air from when you sunk down further. "So then we ordered some Demonus, you know, as you do, and then this song starts playing and he comes back, so Solomon and I look at each other- you know that one look we share sometimes?- yes, that one, so we look at each other and then-"

"Hey, with all the money I just got, we should go shopping, yeah?" Somehow, Mammon had snuck around to the other side of the tub and started pacing on that side, grinning to himself. "I'll spoil ya rotten, I swear. Where do ya wanna hit first? We could go to Majolish, or we could hit that designer store up in the human world ya were tellin' me about-"

Beel continues to sit in silence, but his loud crunching is nearly deafening with all the noise the brothers are making, each of them unwilling to stop talking and wait their turn. 

"Mc-" A yawn. "Here you are-" Belphie stumbles, half-awake (and you weren't even sure of that, with how limbs moved ragdoll-like and the way his eyes were still closed.) "...was looking... everywhere..." He cuts himself with a snore before he falls forward and his stomach collides with the side of the tub, flipping over and landing in the water with you. 

"Belphie!" You shriek, fumbling to simultaneously get as far away from the still-sleeping demon as possible while trying to save him and while also trying to cover yourself from the eyes of the men in the room. 

"You're naked?!" Mammon screams, backing away until his back hits the wall. 

"HUH?!" You hear Levi wail before a thud sounds through the room and, if Satan's snort is any sign, you were sure he'd definitely just passed out and was lying unconscious on the cold tile of the bathroom. 

"Of course they're naked!" Asmo hums. "Who bathes with clothes on?"

"I don't care! Someone get Belphie out right fucking now!" You scramble up the side of the tub, feeling the rough fabric of his cardigan as he surfaces for air, still asleep as he hugs you as close to him as possible, burying his face- or what little you could see of it, with how his soaked hair conceals practically the entire thing- in the crook of your neck and wrapping his legs around your own (you grimace at the feeling of his wet sweatpants against you). Beel comes to your rescue as he attempts to pry his twin's arms off of you and apologizing every time his hands brush your exposed skin. Embarrassment heats your face as you try to squirm away, shouting at Mammon to grab you a towel as more and more water sloshes out of the tub, effectively soaking the pages of Satan's book and smearing some of Asmo's makeup. The former lets out an annoyed grumble as he curses the seventh for falling in and causing a scene in the first place while the latter gasps and rushes towards the mirror to assess the damages done, complaining about how perfectly his makeup was done today and now he was going to have to start all over-

Mammon rushes forward, towel in his extended arm as he slips on the spilled water with a yelp and sends himself flying into the tub as well, landing on top of Beel, who was still attempting to pry Belphie off of you. Beel, shocked by the impact, drops Belphie back onto you and is sent forward by Mammon's weight. Mammon follows close second, leaving you with three demons now in the tub as you try to shove all three off of you. It's difficult for them, as Beel is face-down in the water, his face wedged between your stomach and Belphies, with his legs bent awkwardly out of the tub and Mammon wedged between you and the wall, hands unable to find purchase as he's contorted and squished- not to mention that Belphie's legs had attempted to wrap tighter around your own and had successfully trapped Mammon's arm against your thigh and his face against the space between your shoulder blades, as well as further squishing his twin's face between the two of you. Both your hands are occupied with getting their heads out of the water so they could at least breathe, with two fistfuls of ginger locks and snow-white ones. 

"Everyone out, NOW!" Lucifer's voice rings from the doorway and the room is silent once more. The eldest grabs Beel's collar and pulls him out of the tub, with a grumbling Belphie following close behind (finally awake from the shouting). Mammon follows soon after, skirting out of the room without needing to be asked twice, not concerned in the slightest about how soaked his designer jacket was as you were sure he was going to explode from how red his face was. Asmo and Satan follow close behind, with the fourth-born grabbing a still-unconscious Levi by the ankle and dragging him out of the room. You sigh and sink into what little is left of the water, resting your head against the edge of the tub. 

"Thank you," You sigh. "That was a nightmare." 

"Of course," The firstborn stands still for a moment, clearing his throat. "While I am here, I recently received the scores from the exam that you had taken last week-"

"Lucifer," You glare at the man, eye twitching in annoyance. "Out."

He sighs, turning on his heel and striding out the door, closing it behind him with a click. Finally, in silence, you try to relax once more. 

The pounding of your heart doesn't allow it, though.

Neither do the bruises on your stomach from Beel's hard-as-a-rock forehead, or on your ribs from when Mammon had elbowed you in an attempt to flee, or the scratch on your back from when Beel had tried to separate Belphie from you only to find that the youngest was going to fight tooth and nail to continue your impromptu cuddle session and dug his bitten nails into your skin.

You laugh bitterly- something caught between an annoyed growl and a sob- and slam your fist uselessly against the porcelain. 

You were going to get them back for this.

[vodkassassin]

Amity Park didn’t return to Illinois after they were transported to the ghost zone.

After all, the Zone is fickle even in transporting singular entities like the smallest blob ghost. How about an entire town, with all those people in it?

Instead of Illinois, they end up slightly off the coast of New Jersey, a long time before Amity Park, Illinois ever existed.

Fixing damages that happened to the town during the transfer is considered a total loss, so they scrap everything and rebuild. Since the ghost issue seems to not be going anywhere ever, the decision to lean into the aesthetic and embrace it instead of denying and fighting it is nearly unanimous (save for a few ghost hunters here and there, but they are the minority).

It’s easy to slide into their new existence. Things are very different from the modern life they’re all used to, but much is still the same.

Phantom is always there to protect.

Hauntings are a part of their very foundations.

Amity Park was always pretty isolated, all things considered. So they continue on.

Tucker later on becomes mayor of the new town Gotham (Sam has a heavy hand in convincing everyone to go along with the name). He holds his position much longer and with far higher approval ratings than his predecessor.

Sam eventually marries someone who moved to the newly established Gotham from the mainland, on a business venture, whose last name is Wayne.

Together, they inherit what’s left of the immense Manson wealth.

People from the mainland come and go, providing economy. Not a lot of them stick around, too uneasy of the supernaturally dreary atmosphere of Gotham Island and it’s frankly hostile architecture. The Amitians — Gothamites now — don’t really get it. What’s wrong with ghosts??

The original townspeople are so saturated with ectoplasm at this point that they’ve ceased aging. They die eventually, but immediately become ghosts and just make the trip through the portal to become citizens of Phantom’s kingdom in the Infinite Realms. All things considered, nothing much changes after death, either.

However, it’s soon decided that before any more new people can move to Gotham, the portal must be closed and locked for the safety of the regular humans who are not as immune to the influence of the Zone.

So the portal is buried and hidden, locked and guarded by the eternal soldiers of the Ghost King, the key safely kept on the King’s person at all times.

Life goes on. Years pass. The true origins of Gotham fall into the realm of the forgotten. Eventually, it becomes what it is today.

Batman and all.

The Batcave is more home to Bruce Wayne than even the manor that caps it. That’s because in the cave, he is a step closer to a portal to the Infinite Realms that has been locked and hidden deep underneath the land that once belonged to his ancestors, the Manson-Waynes.

As a direct descendant of one of the original Amity Park townspeople, and one who was (is) so closely tied to the haunt of the Ghost King himself, Bruce has always had a special and innate connection to the town and the land that his city is built on, but never really knew why.

He just thinks of it as his father Thomas explained it to him; the Manson-Waynes, later the Waynes, had been one of the founding families families of Gotham — alongside the Fenton, Baxter, and Sanchez families. Since the other families have long since died out, it’s up to the Waynes to uphold their legacy, and that duty falls to Bruce.

Or so that’s how Thomas, who knew nothing of Gotham’s ghostly, Amitian origins, understood it.

It’s not until Jason, back from the dead, becomes a regular part of the family again, that Bruce starts feeling as if something is different about the cave, and then later the city at large.

Almost as if it’s been awakened, somehow.