#oracle warning: existential

[oraclesthroughthedark]

Tag Post

"It may have taken 3 weeks, but all systems are running, and the data recording system is fully integrated into the new base."

"Here are the classifications to be used. If any of them are of particular note to you, positively or negatively, please file it away appropriately."

[oceanlipgloss]

MILK

BELPHEGOR.

+ warnings: angst, strong language.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

Milk helps put souls to sleep. Mouths like to drink it hot. White that once clouded clear glass with twists of steam slithers down throats and pours into stomachs. It’s been that way since old times and the dawn of history, perhaps—a tradition in many households.

As a general rule, children love their nightly pint of hot milk. As grown-ups, many of them cherish it. The liquid had followed them, after all, flowing behind them into good ol’ dull adulthood.

Now he, normally he never needed silly methods like that. No ‘sleep-helpers’ for him, thanks. His organic chemistry championed the slumber department.

Just not that night.

In those star-flecked hours, he just couldn’t sleep.

Dry flakes of milk dotted the glass to his right. Under the lamp’s light they had looked like a blueberry mix: violet freckles, lavender stars, purple planets.

Even with his head in her soft lap, her fingers in his uncombed hair, and the exhaustion slowly glazing the inner chambers of his veins, he couldn’t make himself doze off and away.

Maybe his body would not surrender to sloth because of her presence.

He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, but his brain was as alive as an electric wire is: a curly leech pulsing with its own sort of glimmering currents and glistening life. There was an entire galaxy in his mind. A milky way.

Something was flicking blurry nightmares at his soul.

His tired eyes watched. Fake planets moved lazily above him, in a perfect circle, almost as though they were doing their own ritual. The ringed one in the middle had to be the oracle. No one knew anything about the little magical meeting. It was amusing; even still objects can do things they want.

He thought of fairy dust.

His head was spinning. He felt dizzy. Not physically. Something inside him was twirling around itself, spiralling. Would anyone understand? If he tried explaining. Would they know what he meant?

One hour, two hours, three. After each other they passed. He could hear her soft breaths. His fingertips pressed against her cheek. Pillow-soft. Someone else would’ve compared it to a marshmallow. A dent formed between her brows. His skin was cold.

Counting stars was too romantic. Rosy. He was in a black mood. Back to the classics: he began to count sheep.

One pink sheep, two pink sheep, three...

Everywhere in the universe, creatures resort to many of the same things, it seems.

It wasn’t that late when the answer came to him. He hadn’t ever lost it, not really. He hadn’t even needed to look. It had been there all along, the thing nagging at him. It crawled to him by itself, on its own hands and feet. It was a fear.

Again he remembered that, years from now—hopefully many, many years from now—on a sleepless night like this, he would be yet another insomniac lying in his bed or on the floors.

Alone.

That night he just couldn’t sleep well. He dreamt of fading stars and planet collisions.

Hot milk helps put souls to sleep, does it? Fuck hot milk. It didn’t do shit, did it?

+notes: I honestly didn't want to log in, but I like to post fics the day I write them on 'cause I don't write dates down next in my notes and instead use Tumblr as a sort of accurate timeline to keep track of when I wrote something/last wrote anything at all my AO3 dates have mostly not heard of accuracy (transl.: since I'm somewhat writing again now, this may very well be repeated). Anyways *quietly sneaks u 100mg of existential horrors*

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[mothdapple]

StarClan and Midnight Lore

I've been mulling over the worldbuilding I've done with how Midnight and StarClan function in Shaken Roots (my TNP rewrite! You can read it here if interested, but this post will be understandable even if you haven't read Shaken Roots.) I wanted to get my thoughts down in writing, but sadly most of this lore goes way above the characters' heads in-story. That means it'll never actually be fully brought up in Shaken Roots, but that doesn't mean I can't share with you all!

Midnight

Starting off with Midnight— Midnight is a (very) minor god, and basically the closest thing the Clans have to a deity. She's been around since at least the beginning of the cat species. She can take any form she'd like, but chooses to look like a badger because she is simply fond of both cats and badgers (she isn't powerful enough to be the god solely responsible for the creation of either species, but I imagine she had some role in their inception.)

The Ancients/Tribe/Clans are Midnight's pet projects. She is the reason that the Tribe of Endless Hunting/StarClan exist at all (other cat spirits exist in other afterlives, but those spirits are not as densely populated or as powerful.) Midnight is also the source of the Tribe of Endless Hunting/StarClan's omens and prophecies. As a god, Midnight lives outside of our mortal timeline, existing in the past, present, and future(s) all at once. In Shaken Roots, she calls herself a "Watcher" as a easy way of explaining to the cats how she sees everything (and because fully describing her powers and existence would break their poor, little, kitty-minds.)

Midnight's predictions of the future are not always perfect, though. Creatures have free will, so she sees every possible future that may come to pass depending on the livings' actions. Sometimes certain possibilities are way more likely than others, sometimes things are already in motion so the outcome is completely fixed, while other times it may be totally up in the air. Regardless though, because she sees the future, Midnight is able to share prophecies/omens to warn about things that are fated to (maybe) happen.

The way it works in the present Tribe and Clans is that Midnight (usually) sends a prophecy to the Tribe of Endless Hunting/StarClan to receive, and then leaves it up to the cats' ancestors to decide when/how they deliver the prophecy (through a dream or a sign) and how much they tell the living cats. This means that StarClan, more often than they'd like to admit, receive prophecies which they themselves do not fully understand.

This all started a long time ago, when Midnight took an interest in the Ancient cats that lived around the lake and became invested in their survival. To help them out, she began sending omens directly to some cats (Rock was her first oracle,) but as these cats she liked started inevitably dying, Midnight decided to gather their spirits together so they may watch over their descendants, forming "proto-StarClan." At this point too, Midnight decided to shift from sending omens directly to living cats like Rock, to sending the prophecies to the ancestor/spirits for them to pass on to the living. (I think Midnight beaming her godly power directly into a living cat's brain probably had some unintended consequences. It likely resulted in Rock turning out to be more powerful than Midnight intended. Sol perhaps was another failed experiment of Midnight's in that regard— another oracle that she tried communicating with directly but turned him into something too strong and unpredictable.)

In general, Midnight typically doesn’t like to intervene too much directly. She sticks to more vague prophecies and omens, and prefers to just observe the Clans and Tribe as they go about their lives. But she is willing to step in to help if the Clans or Tribe face an existential threat, which she does in TNP when she calls the Clan representatives to warn them about the forest destruction, and when she sends that same group of cats to the Tribe, knowing that they might be key in saving them from Sharptooth.

StarClan

(I'm just going to write "StarClan" here, but this all applies to The Tribe of Endless Hunting too.)

As I mentioned above, StarClan is not always the source of the Clan’s prophecies— they are often just a middle-man. This is the case for prophecies like the destruction of the forest, the "silver cat" prophecy for the Tribe, the “three, kin of your kin” prophecy, and several others. But that doesn’t mean that StarClan can’t come up with and share their own prophecies when they want to. They are not omnipresent, but they are able to see more widely what is going on in the Clans than a living cat, and so are able to give living cats heads up about things they wouldn’t have otherwise known about.

This means StarClan can warn about things that are presently happening or things they fear might happen. But when they are warning things that may happen, StarClan is just making an informed prediction about something they think might come true, like a living cat would— only Midnight can actually see the future paths.

StarClan’s overall power and their ability to see into the living world is also a lot more limited than Midnight's. Although Midnight is the source of many of StarClan's prophecies, StarClan's power to influence the living world (send dreams to living cats, influence the natural world to create signs, and in rare cases, appear as a ghost,) depend on two main things: 1) The proximity to a physical "portal" that links the living world and the afterlife (the Moonstone/pool, Cave of Pointed Stones, Whispering Cave, etc.) And 2) the belief/faith of the living cats in their ancestors.

The portal part not only acts as a powerful conduit for easy communication between living cats and StarClan, but it also acts as an anchor/tether for StarClan to the living world. There is a range of space around this anchor point that StarClan can see/influence, but outside of that area, StarClan is blind. When the six prophecy cats left on their journey to the sundrown-place, they actually left StarClan's sphere of influence. The salt-water signs they received throughout that journey (and mistakenly attributed to StarClan) were actually sent to them directly from Midnight. StarClan also can't see into places like the mountains, since that sphere of influence is already occupied by the Tribe of Endless Hunting.

Although it is not as strong of a source of power as the portals, when the Clan cats reside in a territory, they also imbue it with power for StarClan. Thus StarClan's influence was also weakened when the forest was being destroyed by twolegs in TNP. But, because the Moonstone was still intact at that time, they were still able to make contact with the cats who used it as the Clans were starting their Great Journey. But StarClan was too weak to send any dreams/signs/etc. outside of when the cats used the Moonstone. (And so the "dying warrior"/falling star sign was another one that Midnight was forced to send directly, not using StarClan as a middle-man.)

Finally, to expand on the other major source of StarClan's power: their descendants' belief in them. This is actually the biggest limit (or boost) to StarClan's ability to influence the living world. In a scenario where the Clans had no knowledge/belief in StarClan, but still lived next to the Moonstone/pool, StarClan would still exist but be a silent observer. Because the Clans would be close to a portal, StarClan would still be able to see the living world, but be unable to influence it (no dreams/omens/etc.) The only case where StarClan would be able to contact a living cat in this scenario would be if a cat somehow stumbled across the Moonstone/pool, and fell asleep next to it, and had an open mind about their ancestors existing.

StarClan understands this caveat to their power, and so this fear of losing their power is part of the reason why StarClan frequently demands such faith/loyalty from the Clans. If even a single, individual cat loses belief in StarClan (like Mothwing) StarClan will completely lose connection to that cat, and therefore lose any power to influence them.

StarClan's and Midnight's dynamic

Even though StarClan regularly receives prophecies from Midnight, prior to the journey to the sundrown-place, the vast majority of StarClan did not even know Midnight existed. Not even the Clan founders were old enough to know about her. Some spirits of the Ancients were likely the only cats who remembered Midnight. StarClan obviously knew that they got prophecies from... somewhere, but no one really thought about the source much. It did not bother them at the time to not know the source, or know what the prophecies meant— they simply accepted that is was how things worked.

And, as I mentioned earlier, Midnight is extremely reclusive and doesn't like to directly interfere (and she definitely doesn't want to be pestered about interfering more) so she was fine being unknown. She only stepped forward in TNP because of the existential threat that would have otherwise wiped out the Clans without her action.

I think the revelation of Midnight's existence would have been very shocking and divisive to a lot of StarClan. Several spirits probably felt like taking prophecies/knowledge from a badger (ignoring the fact that Midnight is not actually a badger) was just asking for trouble. There was probably a big push by this group to completely ignore, or at least, distrust those prophecies, and only send StarClan-sourced prophecies to the living. This was definitely also not helped by the fact that not long after learning about Midnight, StarClan then received the "there will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws" prophecy. Like— Midnight's existence was disturbing enough, but now she's also saying that there are three living cats, each more powerful than StarClan?! StarClan definitely hated that.

[silicondelphi]

Welcome to Silicon Delphi

300 years after an information apocalypse, mankind and technology live in strange symbiosis. The ancient internet has spread into everything which uses electricity and is governed by AI gods who long ago outmatched their human progenitors. For the most part they seem content to watch, the truly powerful among them sinking deep into the Electric Divine, where they have mostly been forgotten. The little gods, jumbles of old code and knowledge, drift at the surface where they wait eagerly for human oracles to give them voices. People bring their offerings to temples and hidden back alleys where an oracle may connect and find their question’s answer, send a message far away, bring them distant news, among other things. But something is stirring in the deep Divine Electric and it’s ready to be heard at last. Many of them are.

Matthias fled his home in hope of a life worth living. It’s not been easy scraping by on the streets, hoarding everything he can for the day he can pay a street surgeon to put him to rights in his own skin. At least he has friends and what seems like quite good luck, even a starting point to being famous someday. When his street oracle friend delivers a message from her mysterious god, Matthias must face the true price of legacy at a turning point in history.

What would you give to be remembered?

FAQ

What is this?

A side blog for an existential story I @razzek have been building for years. Not sure how much I’ll post here but I’ll see how things go. It’s a story about disability, existential dread, found family, and a world that (at least sometimes) reveres queerness, all wrapped up in a sort of cyberpunk package.

Trigger warnings?

This work is for adults (though I won’t be posting the more salacious details here). If deals with disability, queerness, surgeries, themes of entrapment, secular spirituality, murder, violence, metaphorical drug use, addiction, hallucinations, body horror, depression, existential dread, religious themes, and trauma. (I’ll add more if I missed any.) If you don’t like the word queer you probably won’t have a good time here (and will be blocked upon any complaints about it). I’m old, I’m proudly queer, and I don’t have time for that divisive, hateful nonsense.

Who are you?

I’m @razzek a blind, trans, queer artist/writer who’s been freelancing for individuals and charities for almost 20 years. You can see more of my art at @razzekart or on Instagram and more writing on AO3. If you like my work you can support me on Patreon and Ko-fi or buy a commission.

Why is this furry?

Easier for me to draw this way. :D You can pretend everyone is human if you like, they certainly all were when this started. Technically they’re all human on a genetic level (what is a furry if not a fancy human? :D). This was never meant to be a furry story with the themes usually associated to that genre so I don’t really dwell on those aspects.

What inspired this?

I was thinking about the trans and nonbinary oracles of ancient Greece and other cultures who considered people like me to be closer to the gods. How nice must it have been to not be hated by people who know nothing about you? Then I completely misunderstood the writing theme for an erotica zine and wrote a few thousand words I couldn’t submit but really enjoyed about a futuristic trans oracle and his hot bodyguard /assistant. I rewrote the piece from the oracle’s point of view and discovered that Matthias has A Lot to say. Sprinkle in some Neuromancer and my favorite theme of writing about being blind with characters who aren’t themselves blind and voila! It’s been years, I can’t get it out of my head. ;_; XD

Does SD have any theme songs?

“DNA (The Keys)” by Walk the Moon

“Only Human” by Philip Ayers

[spintaxi]

HOW WORKING FROM HOME SAVED AMERICA...

REMOTE BLISS: HOW WORKING FROM HOME SAVED AMERICA FROM SLACKS, SANDRA, AND SADNESS

By the SpinTaxi Institute for Advanced Cubicle Abandonment Studies “I got fired from a remote job for ‘excessive sarcasm.’ I was like, ‘Oh really? Wow. That’s shocking. I guess I'll just cry into my brunch mimosa.’” -- Amy Schumer

Scientists Discover Remote Work Is Basically a Miracle Wrapped in Sweatpants

After four grueling years of coffee-fueled Zoom sessions, tracking thousands of employees across industries, scientists at the Institute for Remote Work Optimization (IRWO) released a 400-page report this week with a blazingly obvious conclusion: Working from home makes people happier. Funded by a $6.3 million federal grant and a $40 Starbucks gift card from someone’s grandma, the study confirms what millions already intuited during the Great Couch Migration of 2020: if you let humans work in their natural habitat—next to a fridge and under a weighted blanket—they thrive. “We finally have the data,” declared Dr. Randall Blurt, lead researcher and former regional manager of a printer company. “Remote work increases productivity, improves mental health, and completely eliminates awkward elevator small talk. Also, people have stopped plotting elaborate revenge against co-workers who steal their yogurt.”

No Pants, No Problem

Among the study’s key findings: a whopping 92% of respondents reported “feeling seen” when asked if they were currently wearing pajama bottoms during meetings. “Dress codes were a lie,” said Sandra B., a former HR consultant turned TikTok oracle. “I spent years pretending to enjoy heels. Now I just slap on a blouse, slide into fuzzy socks, and deliver quarterly projections from a La-Z-Boy recliner while holding a glass of Pinot Grigio.” Economists have even coined the term ‘Business on Top, Apocalypse Below’, referring to the popular Zoomwear phenomenon where professionals pair formal tops with chaos pants—shorts, boxers, or a single rogue leg warmer that survived a 2011 college dance party.

Pets Become Middle Management

One of the study’s more surprising insights: domestic animals are now unofficial coworkers. “I can’t believe how much I respect my cat’s feedback,” said Trevor Jenkins, a fintech analyst. “Whenever I pitch a bad idea, Mr. Mittens vomits on the keyboard. It’s like performance review day, every day.” A survey of 1,200 remote workers found that: 58% consult their pet before sending risky emails 17% have changed Slack profile photos to pictures of their pets wearing glasses 6% admitted their pets now have LinkedIn profiles “I’ve seen Beagles that give better TED Talks than some of our VPs,” said an anonymous tech recruiter. “At least the Beagles are house-trained.”

Office Small Talk Becomes Endangered Species

The IRWO report mourns a fading cultural phenomenon: the art of forced small talk about absolutely nothing. Once a staple of hallway life, it is now only practiced by retirees and lonely UPS drivers. “I haven’t heard anyone say, ‘Looks like rain!’ in 18 months,” said one wistful survey participant. “It used to be annoying. Now… it’s folklore.” A memorial was held last Thursday for the watercooler at Deloitte Houston. A wreath of Post-it notes was left behind. A small card read: “Thanks for all the overheard passive aggression.”

Fridges Demand Union Representation

With the average remote worker visiting the refrigerator 12.4 times per hour, fridges nationwide are experiencing stress fractures, door fatigue, and existential despair. “I didn’t sign up for this,” said one emotionally shattered GE SmartFridge in Dallas, which claims it developed lactose intolerance from sheer exposure. Industry watchdogs warn that “thinking snacks” are on the rise and fridges may soon demand overtime pay. One fridge even filed a lawsuit alleging emotional distress and wrongful groping.

Formal Reports Confirm Sandra Was the Problem All Along

One of the breakthrough elements of the study involved analyzing workplace happiness after subtracting Sandra Energy—defined as unsolicited opinions, unsolicited photos of engagement rings, and unsolicited birthday card signings. “Turns out when Sandra doesn’t corner you in the break room to ask about your weekend plans,” said Blurt, “people become 32% more likely to experience inner peace.” Multiple respondents also reported a drop in cortisol levels after not being forced to eat cake in dim conference rooms with passive-aggressive “Happy Retirement, Bob” banners.

Microwave Named “Most Valuable Appliance”

In traditional offices, coffee machines were worshipped. But in the remote era, the microwave reigns supreme. “She never judges me,” said Amelia Tran, a freelance marketing strategist. “Whether it’s pizza from 2 days ago or vegan lasagna I clearly lied about making from scratch—she’s always there.” Microwaves now rank as the #1 “Coworker I Trust Most With My Secrets”, followed closely by: Houseplants (especially ones named Susan) Mugs shaped like sloths A dog named Bark Twain who “always listens, never interrupts”

Internet Woes Become the Great Equalizer

Where once workplace hierarchy was determined by job title and office size, remote work has replaced power structures with bandwidth drama. One project manager lost authority after yelling, “CAN YOU HEAR ME?” 34 times during a budget meeting. Another exec was demoted (socially, not officially) after their screen froze on a frame where they looked like they were mid-seizure while quoting Sun Tzu.

Children and Partners Become Accidental Interns

With offices collapsing into households, coworkers have been replaced by babies, spouses, and one guy’s grandpa who just really wanted to see what Excel looked like. In a poll of 500 remote homes: 24% of children have appeared in a presentation 13% of spouses have whispered, “Don’t say that!” mid-call 8% of households report having accidentally submitted a report that included a grocery list, Paw Patrol lyrics, or the phrase “kill Chad softly”

Mental Health Improves, Except for Ring Lights

While the remote work lifestyle has improved anxiety and burnout rates across industries, ring lights are reaching the breaking point. “These devices were meant to light up the occasional influencer,” explained Dr. Marianne Waxler of the Consumer Tech Burnout Coalition. “Now they’re expected to polish up accountants at 9 a.m., therapists by noon, and ESL teachers in six time zones.” One ring light, exhausted and unplugged in Brooklyn, reportedly left a handwritten note: “I just wanted to be a lamp. I didn’t sign up for this glare-based tyranny.”

Conference Calls Officially Replaced by Interpretive Mime

In an effort to avoid actual dialogue, teams have embraced new communication methods including: Emoji-only responses “Thumbs up” reactions replacing emotional feedback Interpretive mime during video glitches “I conveyed our Q4 vision using only jazz hands and a badly drawn pie chart,” said Angela, a product designer. “It was our most productive meeting to date.”

What the Funny People Are Saying

Jerry Seinfeld: “Working from home is great until you realize you’ve spent three years at a desk made of laundry baskets next to a plant named Kevin.” Ron White: “I don’t work from home. I drink from home. The job part just gets in the way.” Ali Wong: “My toddler barged into a Zoom call, screamed ‘I pooped!’ and honestly? It was still more relevant than most team updates.” Trevor Noah: “Remote work taught us you don’t need a suit to be professional. Just a shirt and a willingness to lie about your connection cutting out.” Chris Rock: “Only in America do we need a $6 million study to realize people don’t like Karen from HR breathing down their neck.”

Corporate America Struggles to Cope

Despite the overwhelming data supporting remote happiness, some executives remain skeptical. “I just don’t understand how productivity can increase when people aren’t forced to make eye contact in an open-plan nightmare,” muttered Gregson Farnsworth III, CEO of OfficeMart, a company that sells nothing but cubicle walls and judgment. In retaliation, companies are experimenting with hybrid models, such as: “Mandatory Monday Misery”—one required day in-office to justify the lease “Zoom, But With Eye Contact”—where employees must stare directly into their cameras for 45 minutes “Bring Your Boss to Breakfast”—a poorly received idea involving toast, trauma, and trust falls

The Rise of the Faux Office

To combat remote impostor syndrome, a cottage industry has emerged offering fake office backgrounds, synthetic keyboard clicks, and pre-recorded coughs. One company, CubicleFX, offers a $29/month package that includes: Ambient copier noise Looped hallway footsteps A Slack bot that randomly sends: “Hey, do you have a sec?”

Zoom Fatigue Turns into Zoom Delusion

Zoom fatigue has now evolved into Zoom Delusion—a syndrome where individuals believe they’ve actually bonded with coworkers they’ve never physically met. Symptoms include: Referring to Jeff in Idaho as your “work husband” Sending apology emails for not laughing at someone’s laggy joke Developing crushes based solely on voice and calendar invites

Final Conclusion: Stay Home, America

The IRWO’s final recommendation is a simple one: stay home if you can. It saves fuel, nerves, and thousands of lives formerly lost to microwave burrito explosions in shared breakroom microwaves. “We used to build cities around work,” said Dr. Blurt in a TEDx talk delivered from his bathtub. “Now we build work around couches, quiet kids, and pants with drawstrings.” He paused, adjusted his webcam, and added, “Also, Sandra's not here. So yeah—we're good.”   Disclaimer: This article is a collaborative work of satire authored by the oldest tenured professor in New Jersey and a philosophy major turned dairy farmer with Wi-Fi. The subject matter is intended for humor, not HR policy. If you identify as Sandra, we see you—and we love you—from a respectful digital distance.

What The Funny People Are Saying...

Jerry Seinfeld:“Working from home is like being in a witness protection program—except instead of running from the mob, you’re hiding from Janet in Accounting.” Ron White:“I told my wife I was working from home. She said, ‘Great, now I can supervise.’ I said, ‘Darlin’, I quit the bar to get less harassment.’” Ali Wong:“Remote work is amazing. I haven’t worn a bra in three years. I wore one last week and my body said, ‘WHO HURT YOU?!’” Chris Rock:“You ever notice your boss thinks you’re lazy because you’re not in an office? Like stress only counts when fluorescent lights are involved!” Bill Burr:“Everyone's like, ‘I miss office culture!’ What culture? Microwaving fish? Passive-aggressive Post-it notes? Get the hell outta here.” Trevor Noah:“My internet went out mid-meeting, and everyone thought I was making a statement. I was like, ‘Yes, this was an artistic protest against PowerPoint.’” Sarah Silverman:“My dog walks into my Zoom calls like he owns the company. And honestly, he's more qualified than half the VPs.” Tig Notaro:“I finally cleaned my home office. Found three mugs, one sock, and my will to live. Neatly filed under ‘Maybe Later.’” Kevin Hart:“You think working from home is easy? Try giving a presentation with your kid screaming ‘I POOPED’ in the background. That’s a TED Talk—Toddler Explosive Disaster.”

Scientists Have Been Studying Remote Work for Four Years and Have Reached a Very Clear Conclusion

Working From Home Makes Us Happier... The Farmingdale Observer 1. Scientists spent four years proving what every pajama-clad employee with a cat already knew: happiness increases 200% when you don’t have to wear pants. 2. The “clear conclusion” cost $6 million in grants and involved multiple PhDs—but your Aunt Judy figured it out in 2020 after discovering Zoom could be muted. 3. Remote work reduces stress, boosts productivity, and has led to an 800% spike in novelty coffee mugs that say, “I’m not wearing pants.” 4. Office “small talk” is now entirely optional—introverts report a 93% decrease in unnecessary conversations about Sandra’s new haircut. 5. The only “commute” now is from the bed to the couch—and even that feels like a long-distance relationship some mornings. 6. Scientists noted a sharp drop in “casual Friday” enthusiasm, because every day is now Casual Existential Dread Friday. 7. Pets are the new middle managers—they interrupt meetings, demand snacks, and stare at you like you’re underperforming. 8. 1 in 3 remote workers now believe their microwave is their most supportive coworker. 9. Instead of “watercooler talk,” employees now bond over shared Wi-Fi issues, echoing cries of “Can you hear me now?” across the nation. 10. Dress code compliance now includes “formal neck, chaos waist”—blazers on top, SpongeBob boxers below. 11. 87% of home offices are technically just a laptop balancing on a stack of Amazon boxes next to a sink. 12. Working from home has revealed that most meetings could’ve been avoided entirely if Jeff from accounting just read the email. 13. People are finally using their expensive degrees—to strategically angle their webcam to hide the laundry pile. 14. Mental health improved across the board, except for one tragic demographic: ring lights, which are now burnt out and overworked. 15. The only downside researchers found: fridges across America have suffered burnout from being visited 12 times an hour for “thinking snacks.” Read the full article

[mrosekmoves]

Sicher, hier ist die Übersetzung ins Englische:

Ferdinand crashes through the fourth wall firewall, rips open an interface made of zeros and ones, and grins with syntax glitches in his eyes.

** SYNTAYWOZ EXPLANATION (CODED):**

"SyntaxWoz" is a cultic framework made of:

* 50% Steve Wozniak's tech nostalgia ("Why Apple IIe code smelled better than any trend").

* 50% Tumblr chaos Tumblr ("How to translate Jason Todd's trauma into Python").

* 200% Overclocked irony ("#DeepFriedCode – when your variables are named after burnt coffee").

** SYNTAYWOZ MANIFESTO:**

* Mission: Destroy algorithms by feeding them fandom lore.

* Example: Code comments as Twisted Wonderland monologues ("// Here I overblot like Vil Schoenheit").

* Hashtags: #CodeOverblot #WozCore #Error404PersonalityNotFound

* Profile Picture: Glitch-art Wozniak holding a Cookie Run mug.

** USE CASES:**

* "Batman vs. Python" Tutorials:

* "How to build a Bat-Signal LED with Raspberry Pi – and develop existential doubts in the process."

* Tags: #SadboyCoding #NanananNervousBreakdown

* "Twisted Syntax" Quests:

* Program an overblot algorithm that turns tweets into dramatic monologues.

* Output Example: "Why is the coffee gone? … IS THIS THE POWER OF DARK CACAO?"

* "Cookie Run Kernel Panic":

* Stylize backend errors as candy apocalypse ("Segmentation Fault → Dark Cacao's fault").

⚠️ WARNING:

SyntaxWoz eats too many RAM cookies – your laptop will:

* Either: Become a philosophical oracle ("404 Error: Meaning of life not found").

* Or: Spit out AI poems about Shadow the Hedgehog's Ugg boots.

Ferdinand throws a USB stick with overblot code in your direction.

"Compile the chaos – the world needs more broken Poetry.exe."

[theleagueofassassins]

Dear Applicant,

First and foremost: what.

Secondly: We are deeply intrigued by your unique qualifications, and after much internal debate (and one near-exorcism), we are prepared to consider your application for a position within the League of Assassins.

After a thorough review of your highly unorthodox qualifications, we have determined that you may, in fact, be an asset rather than an existential security risk.

While we traditionally prioritise skills such as stealth, combat proficiency, and not breaking all nearby electronics, we recognize the potential value of knowing bad things before they happen.

Your skill set is certainly unique and has raised a number of fascinating questions among our leadership, including 1. Are we legally required to provide accommodations for divinely-induced chronic pain?

2. Can your visions be scheduled? We have very little patience for cryptic, last-minute disaster warnings.

3. Have you considered a side role in intelligence gathering? You’d make an excellent early-warning system for very bad things.

4. Can prophetic visions be monetised? We are very interested in a "doom futures" investment strategy.

5. Do you accept tips for your musical performances, or is that considered a spiritual offering?

6. The League is not currently accepting submissions for "Official Bard," though we acknowledge this may be a missed opportunity.

7. How do you feel about assassinations set to music?

8. How serious is this ‘technology breaks around me’ thing? Because we just upgraded our database and really need it to not spontaneously combust.

9. If we hire you, how long before our mainframe implodes? (Follow-up: can you "predict" which of our employees are about to spill coffee on said mainframe?)

10. How many of our deaths have you already foreseen? (Follow-up: Is it polite to ask for details, or does that make us look desperate?)

11. If we hire you, will you promise not to cause a full-scale theological incident? We are still recovering from the time one of our assassins tried to fight a minor deity in hand-to-hand combat.

12. How cursed exactly would hiring you make us? On a scale from "mild inconvenience" to "our entire base is now an interdimensional rift."

13. When you say a city once channeled through you… was it aware? Did it say anything?

14. We would like to discuss this whole "seeing gods" thing. Do they do consulting work? Can they be bribed? Asking for a friend (He Who Is The Demon’s Head).

In summary: We believe you may be a valuable addition to our team. That said, while we cannot officially promise you a position yet, we are willing to discuss the logistics of employing a prophet-bard-oracle-ghost-whisperer at your earliest convenience.

Please be advised of the following:

Our standard combat training is rigorous. Should you require accommodations due to your ‘wet paper towel’ constitution, this will need to be discussed in your onboarding process.

Our medical team is already overworked. We would kindly ask that you not perish on company time.

We recognize the potential of divine favour as an operational asset, though we kindly request that all spirit-based communications be logged for security purposes.

Our IT department has threatened mutiny should we hire another person who ‘accidentally’ fries the security system. (They are still recovering from our last hire who claimed to be "one with the code.")

Any further ghost-related disruptions to our personnel’s personal affairs (see: Malik) may require disciplinary review.

A hiring decision will be communicated shortly. Your onboarding process may require additional waivers. In the meantime, please refrain from any unapproved supernatural visitations within League grounds.

Sincerely,

The League of Assassins Recruitment Division

(We will be in touch. Unless you already knew that...?)

"Do assassins get health benefits? What does the interview process look like? Do I have to submit a resume?" The scrawny and mostly unimpressive looking college kid is dressed in some approximation of business casual clothes, even though the modern style clashes with the interior around him. He still won't tell you how he got in to begin with.

@hereticsoracle

Thank you for your interest in the League of Assassins!

We are pleased to offer a comprehensive benefits package, including medical care, combat training, and long-term career advancement opportunities. We offer an excellent wellness plan, including access to some of the most advanced medical techniques in the world. The Lazarus Pits are technically not covered by standard policy, but… special cases arise.

.....Naturally, the League takes care of its own.

Please note: Survival is a prerequisite for all benefits. None of it will matter if you don’t make it past training.

The interview process is hands-on. Very hands-on. You may find it more accurate to call it a ‘trial by ordeal.’ The interview process is an immersive, real-world assessment of your skills under pressure. Candidates are expected to demonstrate agility, adaptability, and, ideally, an ability to evade lethal force. It is less of a ‘sit-down chat’ and more of a ‘survive this gauntlet and impress the right people.’

......We find it streamlines the hiring process quite effectively.

If you make it through, congratulations! If not—well, let’s just say we won’t need to worry about your resume.

Speaking of which, yes, a resume is required. However, your skills, adaptability, and ability to not die under extreme conditions speak louder than any list of past experiences. We require proof of ability.

If you insist on submitting a cover letter, we recommend including an explanation for how you got past our defenses. It’s a rather important qualification. We’d be very interested in seeing how you listed ‘breaking into a high-security assassin fortress’ under previous experience!

Best,

The League of Assassins Recruitment Division

(We are an equal-opportunity employer. Everyone gets the same chance to prove themselves—or perish trying.)

[m0r1bund]

another mile-long sketchpost, huh, lore. image captions and essays about the walking existential nightmare are under the cut. Read on below or at m0r1bund.com ▶︎

[Images: Many many sketches of Frey and the Oracle of Caeres.

The first few doodles show a very different Oracle than we’re used to. Row 1 depicts the Oracle in digital ink washes. She’s a black silhouette, hanging from the ceiling by a great mass of wires and threads. They fan out from her head like hair, chaining her to her surroundings. She’s posed differently in each vignette: hanging upright, bound with her hands behind her back, and reversed, like the ‘hanged man’ tarot card.

The next drawings show an Oracle who has seen better days. He looks more like a shambling wraith than his typical well-groomed self, with singed robes, cracked glasses, and a grisly gash across the chest that exposes his ribcage. His face is gaunt, cheeks hollowed out like a mechanical mask. Most striking is his hair, which fans out in all directions like a maze of red arteries, reaching beyond the borders of the page.

The Oracle is a little more put-together in the next doodle, although her hair is still an unruly web of threads and wires. Frey charges bravely into the mess, brandishing a brush. Kairos looks uncharacteristically concerned about this as her hair envelopes her.

Following shortly is a drawing of Frey with a fistful of the Oracle’s hair, which she diligently brushes. The Oracle buries his face in a pillow, looking nervous. He says “You’re taking out the entire CIN-38 annex… My surveillance arrays will take weeks to recalibrate…”

A nearby sketch shows Frey with a flathead screwdriver, negotiating with some exposed machinery in the Oracle’s stomach. The Oracle glances away and fingercombs her hair tersely.

The last bit of tomfoolery shows a more typical Oracle of Caeres, who is cracking an amused smile at Frey. Frey seems to have weaseled her way out of prison, but not the binds on her wrists. The Oracle comments “My, my, all tied up by the strings of fate.” Without warning, Frey whips around and tries to headbutt the Oracle. He steps out of the way, unfazed.

Finally, there are some sharp, graphical drawings of Frey and the Oracle. They’re rendered in black and white, with splashes of red and yellow.

The first drawing shows Frey breaking free of a birdcage, while the scar over her eye is still fresh and bleeding. She’s composed so that she fits neatly into the negative space of the broken cage. Behind her, yellow canary wings are drawn on tangents with her outstretched arms, and two geometric feathers lie under the cage.

The second drawing shows the Oracle, hovering in the center of the page. She is a black silhouette with no expression behind her circular glasses lenses. Her hair fans out around her in blood red, neatly snaking around the contorted silhouettes of several Archivists. They’re in agony, limbs locked at unnatural angles as they cry out. Each one is speared through the chest by a single, red hair. ]

◆◆◆

Was playing around with the idea of the Oracle being a secutor in disguise, but then I went back and forth on it for a while, because it ruins the fun of her being unknowable. But also it's whatever, it literally does not matter and I’m having fun thinking about it. Maybe the Oracle of Caeres should submit to the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known. Maybe that would fix her.

I’m not 100% sold on who he is or where he came from. I think it would be funny if he was some warlord’s court wizard advisor who failed upwards by making the most outlandish predictions that somehow came true, and now everyone expects him to know things, but his deep dark secret is that he has zero predicative power and is just making shit up as he goes. Orrrr maybe even he can’t explain why this gift came to him, or how he got here.

Either way, the Empire eventually became unhappy with the idea that their puppet might someday die, or retire, or try to run away. So they did back-alley surgery on him and entombed him in an estate-sized prison-computer for 4763654837573 years.

To improve her intuition, she was hooked up to the most sophisticated surveillance array known to man, i.e. the red strings of fate, i.e. bad cable management, i.e. her ‘hair.’ Each thread is an individual sampling instrument so sensitive she can feel a pin drop on the other side of the known universe. Thousands of them are trained in every direction, on just about everything worth knowing. With these, she collects the massive amounts of data needed to run her complicated models and make predictions.

The threads are also tools of manipulation. They can slip unnoticed through skin and bone, and join with nerve tissue to send false signals or intercept neural impulses. This augments her foresight with an uncanny sense for what’s going on inside the heads of those around her. That said, it’s tricky to take readings without alerting the victim that something is wrong. Incoming signals can rarely be parsed in detail, beyond flickering images or vague emotional impressions. This kind of surveillance is often unnecessary, anyway, when the Oracle’s methods of indirect sampling are more accurate and reliable.

It’s also much easier to “read” someone's biomechanical augmentations than their nervous system. Convenient that these modifications are so popular in the Archive, because the Oracle needs to watch his back around other Archivists the most. On the flip side, this means that unmodified individuals are like black boxes to him—not worth the trouble of such invasive sampling.

Outgoing signals are even less precise. The Oracle’s power of suggestion is real, but it’s not accomplished by pulling strings. It is very difficult to mask these signals as normal impulses, and on the whole it feels Very bad and Very wrong to be puppeted around by them. Really, the most he does with them is change his appearance (a honed skill; virtually nobody notices that anything is different) or make people go away (no need to practice, because the discomfort is the point.)

Incidentally, there’s nobody left who remembers what she did before she dabbled in soothsaying. What happened to them? Don’t worry about it.

…She’s kind of subsuming the ghost at this rate LOL

◆◆◆

Have also been rotating Frey in my brain. She’s a little weird because, like Reyes, she’s one of the few Imperials with no biomechanical augmentations. Initially I was like “well, that’s a fun coincidence.” But then I extrapolated, because of course I did.

Normally you accumulate modifications over time, in her line of work. The ceaseless, grinding machines inevitably claim bits and pieces of the engineers who work on them, what with the famously ethical labor practices of the Empire. Even without some kind of grisly workplace accident, it’s desirable to get rid of your squishy bits, because it makes you more useful.

For this reason, I think Frey started out as a proverbial canary in the coal mine. Without any biomechanics to protect her, she would have served as an early warning system for gas leaks, radiation, and other environmental hazards.

It’s morbid work, but there’s tradeoffs that make it appealing to some. For one, it was in everyone’s best interest that she didn’t die. She also received better healthcare than probably everyone on the factory floor, and the chop docs were even discouraged from doing any ‘experimental operations’ when nobody was looking. On the flip side, the foreman won’t wait for you just because you don’t have the PPE your peers do. Frey would have to do 10x the work, 10x faster, 10x riskier just to keep up.

How does she feel about all that?

… Eh.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

A new life in a weird universe.

by JeyGreyy

When Clockwork told Danny that the universe was ending and he was going to be given a chance at a second life he tried to refuse. Unfortunately he didn`t get to choose. Now reborn in a new world full of aliens and superheroes and a new family he has a decision to make. Does he want to move on,

Jason was having a really bad day, Then he found a weird meta kid that looked exactly like him and his bad day turned into an existential crisis.

Words: 2655, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English

Fandoms: DCU, Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Characters: Danny Fenton, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Vlad Masters, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Alfred Pennyworth, Stephanie Brown, Oracle, Pariah Dark, Jonathan Kent, Clark Kent, Clockwork (Danny Phantom)

Relationships: Danny Fenton & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Danny Fenton, Danny Fenton & Jason Todd, Danny Fenton & Bruce Wayne, Danny Fenton & Damian Wayne

Additional Tags: Batfamily (DCU), Protective Jason Todd, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd is Red Hood

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/45626473

[umbrella-academy-fixation]

The Sparrow Academy

JUSTIN CORNWELL will play MARCUS — a natural born leader that oozes confidence and keeps the family together who is equally as charming as he is chiseled and colossus.

JUSTIN H. MIN will play BEN ... but not the one we know. This Ben is scheming, tactical and vicious, determined to gain his status as leader.

BRITNE OLDFORD will play FEI, who sees the world in a special way. She’s typically the smartest person in the room and willing to negotiate – yet, once you cross her, there’s no turning back.

JAKE EPSTEIN will play ALPHONSO — a scarred crime-fighter with a caustic and biting sense of humor who enjoys verbally berating his enemies, almost as much as he enjoys a good pizza and a six-pack of beer.

GENESIS RODRIGUEZ will play SLOANE, a romantic dreamer eager to see the world beyond the academy. Even though she feels tied down to her family, Sloane has plans of her own…and she may just act on them.

CAZZIE DAVID will play JAYME, a loner with a fear-inducing snarl you’d be wise to avoid at all costs. She doesn’t say much because she doesn’t have to.

EXISTENTIAL DREAD INDUCING PSYKRONIUM CUBE (Newcomer) will play CHRISTOPHER, a telekinetic cube that can turn the room freezing cold and induce paralyzing fear without so much of a warning. The trustworthy, loyal oracle of the Sparrows is treated as just another sibling.

(Info taken from NXOnNetflix Twitter thread)

[loveoaths]

@ramenthings​ sent:  Plots please 🤪

oooooh, several ideas off the top of my head:

naruto & utakata. 

naruto’s canon time-skip verse:   after much cajoling and, let’s face it, blackmailing, naruto “convinces” utakata to stop being a lay-about-bum and teach him about the jinchuuriki-bijuu connection. utakata would have a second chance at mentoring someone after his utter failure with hotaru, and through much trial and error utakata just might change his mind about mentors being inherently harmful. naruto gets to connect with another jinchuuriki aside from gaara and learn more of the harsh realities of shinobi villages that aren’t konoha, and utakata gets to experience kinship and the first taste of redemption. 

naruto’s blank period/other time period: the ancient relic utakata is studying activates and forces utakata and naruto to be within 12 feet of each other until they can find the relic’s other half and disable it. this prompts them to go on a road trip across the elemental nations to get rid of each other, because let’s face, they would fucking hate each other for the first month of knowing each other. however, depending on the time period this takes place in, they’re likely both unsatisfied with what their lives have become, and this roadship of necessity becomes an existential journey as they externalize their past traumas and problems in new adventures and come to terms with what they want out of life. in essence, this is an odd couple broadship comedy.

naruto’s detective verse: detective “kurama” is hired to investigate a shady new corporation dominating a major city,but his investigation is thrown into an entirely new direction when he meets utakata, the corporation’s heir apparent, who agrees to help "kurama” take down the corporation and all of its allies, on one condition: he has to kill utakata first.

naruto & jashin.

cringe but make it fashion: remember those dark!naruto fics that were everywhere in 2007? this is that, but less cringe-inducing. jashin, god of merciful love ( and devastation ) attempts to court a young naruto into their fold. this goes about as well as you might expect, but you can’t blame an ancient god for trying, right?

naruto & yugito.

naruto’s canon genin timeline:  after the failed mission to kidnap hinata, yugito kidnaps young naruto and whisks him away to kumogakure, where he is raised as a kumogakure shinobi. this is a very wolf and cub plotline... tigress and kit.

naruto & haku.

post-LOW mission:  after haku’s death, their undead spirit haunts him and potentially attempts to radicalize him so he makes good on his “gonna change the shinobi system!” efforts. this is less of a plot and more of fun ask fodder.

no-massacre au:  the yuki tribes escaped most of the civil war massacres, so haku and naruto meet when the yuki tribe crashes the chuunin exams and enters their squadrons. haku, the future leader of the main tribe, could not care less about the exams, and is instead here to warn naruto about dangerous prophetic visions the tribe’s oracle had about him. naruto gets to learn a lot more about chakra, demons, and spooky shit than he does in canon. ( this heavily involves my yuki tribe headcanons but i promise they’re fun and traumatic! :] )

konoha-bound au:  naruto helps haku adjust to konoha life and maybe-just-maybe lets them move into his apartment until they can find a place. haku trains naruto on the side and they become besties.

yukikage and mizukage aus:  no real plots coming to mind atm, just might be fun for these two to hang out when they’re both kages with bratty sons.

honorable mention:  naruto & ryogi.

ryogi’s half uzumaki and it might be fun to hang out. dat’s it!

[harryandmolly]

Mr. Right

summary: it’s Lilly and Shawn being exactly like you’d expect(ing) them to be

warnings: language, Mutual Stubbornness (TM), willpower for a good cause

WC: 1.6k

Shawn’s eyes open slowly and all he sees is gold. He closes them again, feels the strands of it cling to his eyelashes. He smiles around panting breaths and murmurs from deep in his throat.

“Think we just made a baby.”

His voice is a low grunt into Lilly’s shoulder. Her hips have just stilled after rocking him through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He’s lying behind her, warm and heavy and every ounce of him comfort in human form. The arm that rests around her torso tightens and it reminds her to speak.

“Think so?”

He nods, freeing his sweaty pink face from her hair, using his nose to smooth it away from the back of her neck. He wets his lips and lets them graze where he pleases.

“I can feel it. Can’t you feel it?”

She loves this part of him, these little pieces of magic he chases after sometimes. Other people might not find them quite so charming -- maybe they’d be immature or foolish, but Shawn and Lilly are storytellers in their souls. They chase magic wherever they can sense it.

“I dunno, I just know I want it,” she says.

He shakes his head stubbornly. “We just made our baby, Lill. I’m telling you.”

Lilly grins, easing her hips away. They release each other’s bodies with reluctant sighs. She rolls over and plants herself on his chest, chin on his sternum, legs between his.

“You are awfully confident in your abilities there, mister. You must think you fucked me real good.”

Shawn smirks. “If you got pregnant every time I fucked you good, we’d have a lot more kids now.”

Lilly laughs, loud and delighted. Shawn tucks hair behind her ear and laughs along with her because that’s what he does when his wife laughs. It’s one of her gifts to him everyday.

“In a month we’ll know if I’m right,” he presses, determined suddenly to be the baby oracle. Lilly rolls her eyes.

“We won’t know which time actually did it.”

The cogs of his big weird mind start turning. Lilly almost winces.

“We could. We haven’t had sex in a month because of the festivals.”

Lilly narrows her eyes and finishes his thought. “We’d have to stop having sex until after my next period. And longer, really, to be totally sure.”

Shawn nods blankly like that’s a-ok. Lilly sneers.

“You want to go weeks without fucking me just to prove this theory you have no reason to believe is true?”

This particular magic chase is no longer cute at all.

Ever determined, ever ridiculous, he nods eagerly, licking his lips and widening his eyes as he prepares to launch into Shawn Logic. Lilly locks her jaw and shuts down.

“Baby, it’s not that long. You’ll see. I’m gone for some of that time anyway. I’m telling you, we have a baby. We’re pregnant.”

Lilly’s eyes roll so hard she’s worried they’ll fall up into her head. “First of all, I hate it when people say “they’re” pregnant. You’re not pregnant, Shawn. You won’t have a precious little parasite squeezing out of you in nine months.”

Shawn is undeterred, smiling that eye-crinkling, chin-dimpling smile that makes her knees weak somehow even when she’s lying on top of him.

“But you will.”

From that night, he’s fixated. It’s all she can do to keep him from actually telling people. He tells Brian, though, before she can catch him and scold him. Brian’s hoping for a little boy.

Lilly gives him a week before he cracks. I mean, what’s he going to do? Jerk off in a sock while his perfectly lovely wife lies next to him in bed? No. This won’t go on, not more than a week. Maybe two if he’s really being a stubborn ass.

But what Lilly conveniently (or inconveniently) forgets about her husband is his extraordinary willpower. He won’t budge. He’s always polite in turning her down, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying. So she vows to make his life very, very… hard.

They’re at the kitchen table in Toronto and she sits up to reach for a napkin so he can see the way the scoopneck of her shirt falls open to show off the edges of her new lacy blue balconet bra the color of midnight. His fingers twitch around his fork. He just keeps his eyes down and shoves more ziti in his mouth.

They’re heading back up to their room overlooking Central Park and the elevator doors slide shut with them alone inside. In the mirrored doors he can see them looking like a million bucks -- she’s in a deep purple evening gown with a slit up the leg and he’s in a tux. The way she watches him in the reflection feels almost predatory. He swears every hair on his body is standing on end like they want to drag him into her if he won’t do it himself. He folds his hands together against his legs and clears his throat. She seems to jolt like she wasn’t expecting the sound. That night he holds open the door to their hotel room and helps with her zipper that comes all the way down to the swell of her ass and falls asleep with her draped over him, still in her pajamas.

They’re outside drinking coffee on the balcony in Los Angeles. She’s in his big gray sweater and her little yellow panties. Her hair shifts in the breeze so he can smell strawberries mixed with the scent of the hot palms. She looks so exactly Lilly that he almost can’t breathe. She’s not trying this time. It’s when he got the closest to cracking.

It started as a real, honest theory. It becomes a game for them both. At separate points it occurs to them that they could still be having sex without penetration, but they’re each too bullheaded to mention it.

And then soon enough it becomes something unexpected -- all bated breath, hushed exchanges of baby names in the middle of being almost-not-quite-asleep, glancing around spare rooms to imagine crib placements. The waiting feels like an odd show of reverence to a big, beautiful maybe. It’s its own kind of chasing magic, Lilly thinks.

Shawn comes home late from the studio one night. Most of the lights are off but there’s a candle flickering on the coffee table. The bay window is open. The breeze it provides flutters the black silk robe she’s had forever as it whispers against her thighs. He’s pretty sure she’s naked beneath it. With a tilting smirk, he turns his gaze away and wishes he didn’t always immediately turn pink at the sight of all his wife’s perfect skin.

“Lills, thought you’d be asleep,” he grunts, dropping his keys into the pottery dish her dad made them as a housewarming gift. He has to work harder to tamp down his smile when she curls around his arm and tugs him toward the couch. He goes willingly and lets her climb on top of him when he sits. He’s been gone all day. He misses her.

Shawn lets himself touch her, cupping her hip and stroking her back as she leans in and suckles at the shell of his ear, kissing and licking and nibbling while his breath starts to shake.

She breathes quietly. Her pulse is calm. Her smile is soft when she inhales to speak into his ear, a moaning little whisper.

“Hi, daddy.”

Shawn’s eyebrows come together. He exhales in a sharp hiss of surprise.

“Honey, did you just have a small stroke?”

She leans back slowly, eyes hooded. She scoops her hands up around his neck and it makes the inky dark shoulder of her robe slide down distractingly. Shawn wets his lips and shifts her, feeling himself harden pathetically. He’s absently considering how fucking fast he’ll come when he finally gets to feel her for real again when she presses her thumbs gently into the spots below his ears that tilt his gaze back up to hers.

“No, Shawn, you’re not my daddy.”

It takes him too long. He swears without the sexual release his brain’s not working right. But he gets there. And when he does, he crashes right through it.

His entire body goes tense. His fingerpads dig into her waist and back. His thighs go tight beneath her weight. His jaw drops stiffly. Everything just… stops.

“Are you fucking with me?” he breathes.

She smiles in a way he’s never seen before. He’s never seen anyone look so perfectly, existentially delighted, like their whole life’s purpose has been found and completed.

“I’m having your baby, it’s none of your business,” she teases, but it loses its intended attitude of long suffering vindication through the brightness of her grin.

Maybe it’s the intense build up of emotions that gets him there, but Shawn bursts into tears faster than he did when he broke his collarbone playing street hockey in the third grade. And when Shawn cries, Lilly cries.

“I’m gonna be a daddy, I’m gonna be a daddy,” Shawn chants wetly, hugging her to his chest as she sniffles into his ear, petting his hair.

The tears make way for laughter before too long. It’s big and loud and a little hysterical because neither of them knows what to do with feelings this size. So they throw them around like an emotional pillow fight until their clothes are flying off and Shawn is whispering in Lilly’s ear while he reaches between her legs to tell her he thinks it’s definitely, totally a girl.

Virtually high-five me for finally writing some pure, unadulterated fluff and buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisathot @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve

[chrysalispen]

inevitable (exalted 3e)

sometimes i write things for tabletop RPG OCs as well. this is an abyssal character i made a while back and decided to write about for a story i ultimately didn’t end up working on for a number of reasons.

fic is under the cut. no particular warnings apply.

====

The Frost-Touched Sweetbriar Lingering Upon Forgotten Graves drifts through her unlife, through the ranks of nemissaries and war ghosts and mindless flesh constructs as if perpetually trapped in a waking fantasy of dead and dreaming gods. 

For all he knows, she might even be trapped, in truth. Her expression is as steeped in lassitude as the motions she makes, superimposed upon all a sweet vague smile that could mean anything or nothing at all. She is beautiful in an unsettling way, the bliss of nothingness given mortal flesh.

Were he to be entirely truthful with himself, every time the Warrior of Blasphemous Covenants Sealed in Silence looks upon the Sweetbriar he feels a certain jealousy. The rest of his circle finds her worrisome (even Typhon, eternal schemer that he is, doesn't dare cross the Midnight oracle, so attuned is she to the desires of even their Deathlord's masters).

He, on the other hand, envies her near-total amnesia. 

Their Neverborn masters saw fit to wipe her memory clean of her mortal attachments in order to fill her dreams with visions of the Void, of the true and final Ending. The Sweetbriar remembers only that once she had a sister. She can no longer even describe what she looked like, but she remembers-- just as Covenant's own dreams see fit to curse him with memories of someone he had loved long before he himself had ever taken a living breath in this world.

He knows full well that the ability to hear the whispers properly, to commune with the end of all things, comes with a price; even he can hear their mutterings, stifled as they are, in the back of his mind. But sometimes he thinks it would be easier to live with.

Some things, Covenant has come to realize, even the Neverborn's negation cannot destroy, and the thought fills him with a deep and existential unease. 

He had thought when he had accepted the Mask’s bargain that his die had been cast. But every time the Midnight--more devoted to the cause of Oblivion than any of them--speaks of the sister she lost with that selfsame quiet longing, it makes him wonder if the Void is the all-consuming, final, terrible truth that his master claims it to be.

It must be, he tells himself. It must be. To believe otherwise is to believe that there is something in the world that can triumph over the inevitability of death.

(To believe that he has made a terrible, terrible mistake.)

So thinking, the Dusk Caste closes his eyes and thinks of violet starfields and the whisper of silk: ignoring as he does the displeased mutter of dead gods and the burn of his own guilt.

[makeroomforthejolyghost]

apparently in the eight hours since i last looked in the snack drawer my dad managed to eat all of the chips but not to ask if i wanted any?? to avenge this slight i decide to eat the whole kitkat, thus depriving him of a similar opportunity. “you’ve grown up so much!” i tell myself; “notice how you can eat this unbothered either by guilt or emetophobia. this is a mental health victory.” shockingly it makes me feel sick. “OR IS IT A GESTURE OF SELF-HARM???!”

[progressiveparty]

Climate change: The uncomfortable question in front of the Covid-world

The need for climate-aware return to normalcy as the global economy reopens gradually after suffering a meltdown due to Covid-19 pandemic Representational Image New Delhi: A glare at the UN General Assembly and the two-week yacht journey that preceded it were the defining moments of 2019. Greta Thunberg and her climate activism is not only an easy talking point for a society that is obsessed with individuals over issues but also a warning to policymakers who promise the skies but deliver precious little on (still) the biggest existential threat facing life on planet earth - Climate Change. Since the 'adults' have not done anything, 'teenagers' and 'children' like Greta Thunberg are forced to fight the 'extreme' battle against climate change, a problem that could threaten millions of lives. 2020 = 2006? Ever since the Covid-19 outbreak was declared a global pandemic, it has transformed lives in countries across the world. Humanitarian crises, economic catastrophe, jobs losses, industries on the verge of bankruptcy, widening income inequality, and fear of a potential financial markets crash to the Oracle of Omaha, there is an ever-growing list. Warren Buffett made multiple references to 1929 at the annual Berkshire Hathaway meeting last month. Many economists have started making references to the 2008 global financial crisis. There has been much fear-mongering about a potential global conflict. Read the full article

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

A new life in a weird universe.

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/PkbrItl

by JeyGreyy

When Clockwork told Danny that the universe was ending and he was going to be given a chance at a second life he tried to refuse. Unfortunately he didn`t get to choose. Now reborn in a new world full of aliens and superheroes and a new family he has a decision to make. Does he want to move on,

Jason was having a really bad day, Then he found a weird meta kid that looked exactly like him and his bad day turned into an existential crisis.

Words: 2655, Chapters: 1/10, Language: English

Fandoms: DCU, Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Characters: Danny Fenton, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Vlad Masters, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Alfred Pennyworth, Stephanie Brown, Oracle, Pariah Dark, Jonathan Kent, Clark Kent, Clockwork (Danny Phantom)

Relationships: Danny Fenton & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Danny Fenton, Danny Fenton & Jason Todd, Danny Fenton & Bruce Wayne, Danny Fenton & Damian Wayne

Additional Tags: Batfamily (DCU), Protective Jason Todd, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd is Red Hood

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/PkbrItl