#so its weird to phrase things as though it does.

[berrymeter]

hey i don't wanna say smth controversial but u all know there are french minorities right? just wondering bc when i see those posts about "the french" it's making me raise a brow the same way i raise a brow when ppl make posts about "americans" not protesting or being "unhealthy" or whatever

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[callmehere-iwillappear]

yall i got my first ever 'update when' comment today whats up. am i part of the cool kids club now

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

[pacifythots]

" CAN I HOLD IT WHILE YOU PEE ? "

ⓘ your boyfriend gets up needing to use the bathroom, of course you have to ask the popular question, " can i hold it while you pee? "

incl. suo, sakura, nirei, kiryu, kaji, umemiya, hiragi, togame, + choji.

f / gn!reader — spicy crack. actively fem only in sakura's, teasing, inappropriate jokes, spicy crack-fic, brief allusions to sex, hayato suo and mitsuki kiryu are warnings and will be in the future, + dick.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" or, they are extremely flustered and can only respond semi-negatively. this includes two different versions based on the characters: (1) " ... what is wrong with you?" [concerned], or (2) "what is wrong with you?!" [aggressive, scared, + flustered]. he's going through the five stages grief in a single moment. like- he malfuncted.

HIRAGI is concerned. he's definitely number one, he's looking at you with a very confused expression while also looking at you like you're insane. he just wants to pee. like- previously the two of you were tired, cuddling together, and ready to take a damn nap. now he's sleepy walking to the bathroom and your asking to ... hold his dick while he pees? "no, why?" he blinks, "is this a tiktok trend, or- ?"

NIREI is one and two, he's both concerned and flustered. "h-huh?? you- you want to- WHAT?" he's like stuttering out jumbled phrases and waving his hands up and down, back and forth, all the different ways while yapping about shit you can't understand. "if you don't want me to, you can just say that, aki." then he gets really upset and does that: "no i want you to, i mean- i don't want you, no! i mean i do want you but i think this is a little weird- not that you're weird!" thing, and its super cute. you end up just pushing him into the bathroom so he doesn't piss himself on your floor.

SAKURA is going through the five stages of grief. he's so damn confused, concerned, flustered, and slightly angry that you'd ask something like that. he comes off as a little aggressive, but he does that everytime he gets flustered so it's no big a deal. but he's like turning his body away from you with his hands covering his crotch while slowly inching away from you. "w-why would you want to do that?" he looks you up and down with a concerned expression as he carefully reaches for the door handle, "girls are weird." he's looking at you funny even when he leaves the bathroom. like- he's not fathoming why you'd want to hold it. "aw, sakura you know size doesn't matter to me," you tease, amused at his extremely flustered reaction that happens afterwards.

KAJI he just stopped, a.k.a malfunctioned, processed what you said, and then got angry. "what the fuck?! wha- what is wrong with you?" he's blinking and looking around the room for hideen cameras because this must be 'walk the prank' or something. "uh ... n-no?" he's taking tentative steps into the bathroom and closing the does.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ HE'S LAUGHING, or he finds the question extremely amusing. he knows how curious you are. he's not exactly against the idea, he's just both caught off guard and extremely amused. he's probably going to let you though the question of "where'd that come from," will always be said first.

SUO chuckles, looking at you with both an amused and curious expression. his eye is studying your expression—trying to pick up anything. he hums thoughtfully, "really? is this a trend, or are you genuinely curious?" you give your answer and you swear you hear him snort. "are you sure you're not trying to get me hard? if you just wanted to see it you could've asked any other time?" he teases with a mischievous smirk before walking calmly into the bathroom without closing the door, suggesting you come in and close it yourself.

UMEMIYA is cackling. this man is loud. "where'd that come from?" he completely forgets that he had to pee because now his whole attention is on the fact that you want to hold his dick. "you know you could've asked any other time, right?" he's thinking about all the ways he can tease you about this while being nice. he's doing that attractive little lean on the doorway while looking you up and down with amusement. he's like heavily deflecting so he doesn't give his answer. purely because he thinks your reaction is funny. "just say yes or no, dammit ume!" he chuckles, "asking an embarrassing question and then getting embarrassed when i ask you why? cute."

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ "HOLD WHAT?" or he's really confused. like, the soap? his jacket? the toilet seat? what are you talking about? like- he has a reeeally slow moment there where you slightly wonder how and why you decided to date him. he gets it a couple of seconds later, but he reaction may vary.

CHOJI 'sunshine' tomiyama. sigh. he pauses in the doorway and looks at you with confusion painted on his face. he does that cute little tilt of his head and that confused blink. "hold what?" when you look at his pants and then at his face it takes him another moment. you could almost imagine those three dots in the air that are usually in anime. " ... oh." once he gets it he looks at you with confusion one more time, wondering why you'd want to hold his dick while he pees, but he shrugs. "ok!" and then walks into the bathroom.

this is also- sakura and nirei. the both of them have this same reaction, they're very confused for a moment until the pause and think about it. again, those little three dots hang in the air before they get it, and when they do there's almost a visible exclamation point beside their heads. they freak out and have the reaction listed above.

⋆𐙚 ₊.ᐟ "SURE," or he does not gaf. "idgaf" is his motto. he blinks, looks at the toilet, back at the toilet and shrugs. "okay, sure i guess." you'd think he'd say something more about it ... nope!

KIRYU "whatever floats your boat" mitsuki. he smirks at you and then just walks in. like- he doesn't confirm or anything, he just wips it out once he reaches the toilet. "i thought you wanted to hold it?" he blinks, looking back at you, "unless ... you wanted to some other time?" he playfully calls you a freak afterwards and suggests you should try asking that in some- other circumstances.

TOGAME just looks at you. 'girl what the fuck?' is in his head at the moment, but he just shakes his head. "sure i guess, it's not exciting or anything," he shrugs, wondering where on earth you could've gotten this want from. if you're hesitant he's looking at you like your stupid, "come on, you asked." he also just wips it out like its nothing. hell- y'all are dating. regardless, he guides your hand. "if your hand is cold, we're gonna fight." that bush he has??? "don't be shy, you asked, hold it." bro- ?!? safe to say he is extremely amused.

this is also- suo and choji. as listed above, choji—once he gets it—just shrugs and walks into the bathroom, allowing you to follow him. the same with suo, he'll tease a bit and then shrug and tilt his head towards the toilet. like- he's so damn awkward and irritating cuz now you're embarrassed to actually walk in there and hold it (as if you won't be doing worse things in the future).

note. don't ask where this came from. this was sparked by a weird ass dream, a post, and the hopes and dreams of getting my motivation for writing back lmfao. this was both funny and awkward to make—i have no idea why i wrote this, please save me.

[illuminakisser]

EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT THE PHIGHTING APRIL FOOLS TOWER AS OF NOW, THIS WILL BE UPDATED AS MORE INFO IS DISCOVERED OR MORE THEORIES ARE MADE.

ok info about whats theorized to be medkits nightmare GO

Title of game : . (its a period)

Icon is the same as base game, background is the default one

The music playing is just overtime slowed down by a lot

1. MAP

You spawn on a road with sidewalks that have candles, you have a lantern in your inventory.

As you walk you will occasionally see an exit sign.

Halfway, pillars stretch up from the ground, most are normal but some are shaped like hands that reach to the sky. On top of the hands are weird figures with glowing green eyes and horns that look like something from the flaming horns series?

(thats the closest thing i could find,,,)

At the end of the road is the default Happy Home, though with minor modifications. An exit sign is right at the stairs and pointing at the door. Tube tvs are inside the home, a giant one at the middle against the wall with two stacks of tvs in the corners. The left side has one tv off, while the others are full of red static. They don't do anything when interacted with.

Note: This sorta resembles the thumbnail for scythe's teaser.

They also look like the TVs in broker's secret room (i reached the image limit so cant show ough)

Outside to the left and on top of the house are the same weird green eyed figures.

2. DIALOGUE

There are many figures running around saying various phrases,

phrases that ive seen:

"Help!"

"you traitor"

"do something"

"be useful"

"please help me"

"Useless support"

"Help me!"

"help"

"please just heal me"

"Please heal me"

"How's your eye?" (Idk if this is random dialogue or subspace dialogue)

Though, some of these figures are saying things from medkit ally dialogue.

Ingame dialogue phrases:

"Do I really want to work with a rebel on my team?" - Banhammer

"Hey!! Great seeing you!!" - Subspace

"How's that eye doing??" - Subspace

3. THE OVERSEER NEXTBOT OR SOMETHING IDK

You are chased by an overseer eye, it can't be stopped permanently. Though, it can be halted by positioning yourself in the right area, however, it has good pathing and can jump extremely high, so you can't hide from it.

Getting caught by it results in an image showing up on the screen, this rewards you a badge the first time you see it.

Random note: the eye is weirdly clean? im not sure if its medkit's eye or not since I remember soda saying that subspace just threw the eye away,, (not sure if this is still canon)

After this you get kicked from the game with the message "You must kill him to become him."

The interesting thing is that this is the description of the overseer eye cosmetic.

This probably means something like "you must kill overseer to become him" or something but what does that mean who is killing overseer huh what

↑ ok theories have been made (thank u discord user ankles0560 for the medkit part)

The one killing him might be either medkit or katana.

KATANA : there is dialogue between katana and ban hammer

Ban Hammer: "You can't get involved with the business of the dudes higher up." Katana: "And who will stop me?"

↑ I will expand on this later but im eepy rn help

MEDKIT : ok the whole thing is about Medkit so the kick message is probably the overseer eye talking to Medkit,,

Soda has said that if Katana knew more about Medkit, he would kill him. This could mean multiple things but very interesting hm

Another interesting thing is the jumpscare noise, it is a jumpscare noise used in old games.

The interesting part is what it is, the noise is actually the sound of the subspace tripmine slowed down, whether this was just coincidence or because of the subspace thing is unknown, it might even be both?

EXTRA . CHURCH OF THE TRUE EYE INFO

Not really related to the tower but just what we know about the cult

A religious group within lost temple, not everybody from lost temple is a member of it.

It is mentioned in Medkit's phone dialogue.

Every member of the cult is missing an eye.

Soda has mentioned that the reason why Sword's eye isn't missing is because he wasn't born in lost temple.

CORRECTION: Sword was born in lost temple, but wasn't raised in it. The point still stands that this is the reason why he hasn't lost an eye.

Based on dialogue between medkit and banhammer, it has been around for a while now. (THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME)

It is unknown what the goals or structure of the cult are currently.

They have a uniform, Medkit, Scythe, and Broker share the motif of outfits of mostly teal.

Scythe calls Vine Staff "blessed" in her dialogue with her, this is related to the cult somehow since in the same conversation Vine says "No! You and your creepy family can buzz off!"

^ According to broker, her curse is rare but she isn't the first one to have it.

They call themselves a family, and call Overseer their Father.

Overseer info:

There is barely any, but this is what we know.

They are referred to as a leader, it is unknown whether they are the faction leader or just the cult leader.

Scythe refers to him as a deity, whether they truly are one, manipulated the cult into believing they are, or the cult simply calls him a deity is unknown.

An alternative is that she isn't talking about overseer here at all, though if that is so we don't know if she's talking about a sfoth deity or a different one. ← if it is a sfoth deity, it is most likely to be darkheart or venomshank (or maybe even ghostwalker? idk)

btw soda said this. soda wdym

Feel free to add more info or things i missed/got wrong in reblogs or comments!!

pls do say more info if you have it im making this based on what the guys im theorizing with are saying i didnt have time to do more than 1 playthrough

[indigovigilance]

Maggie is Possessed

This is my second meta! My first one is here.

I’m not the first fan to be suspicious of Maggie but I’m going to argue why she might be possessed (and I hypothesize that specifically she is possessed by an angel), rather than being eldritch herself, and will propose some reasons why the hitchhiker might be doing this.

First, a quick list of her early observable behaviors:

She cannot spell urgency

She signs “very faithfully yours”

She refuses to drink alcohol

Golden angel-wing earrings, anyone?

Have you seen those clothes?

All of those things are angelic, but why possession, specifically? Evidence is presented in order of chronology and not necessarily how strong it is, below the cut:

First: The timeline is weird. She’s eight months behind on rent, and suddenly decides she needs to speak to Mr. Fell “on a matter of some ugrency” and insists she can be out by next week. It’s inconsistent behavior that could indicate that a new decision-maker has taken over. First-point-five, she calls Aziraphale an angel: does she know?

Second: re-watch the first coffee shop scene, S2E1 at 13:20. Yes yes, it reads like a cute lesbian flirtation scene. That’s the cowrie shell. Pick it up. There’s a caraway seed underneath. When she arrives at the coffee shop for the first time, Maggie’s confused “ah, yes, coffee” might not be the flustered redirect you thought it was, but rather indicating that whoever is riding around in that body doesn’t actually know how a coffee shop works. But Nina (to Hitchhiker!Maggie’s relief) remembers her order. So Human!Maggie has been here before, in fact, Nina calls her a regular, to which Hitchhiker!Maggie says “oh right, yes, I’m that.” Not sus at all, sister.

Third: During the “herbal tea” exchange, Maggie says to Nina that “I didn’t go to parties” and she was “not that sort of teenager.” On it’s face it reads like she was a goody-two-shoes human teenager, but consider for a moment that whoever is speaking right now was never human; the statement isn’t a lie, but its very misleading. Who else do we know that does that?

Fourth: During the lock-in, Maggie tells the story of how her great grandmother’s store was in a corner of Mr. Fell’s bookshop, so he lets them stay on for old time’s sake. One possible interpretation of this phrasing is that Hitchhiker!Maggie knows that Aziraphale has owned that shop continuously for at least 100 years. Nina is the one that suggests that it was actually Aziraphale’s grandfather, and Maggie nods along.

Fifth: Maggie says it’s a “coincidence” that the power goes in and out when Crowley passes by; could read as a deliberate redirect from someone who actually knows that Crowley is a demon? But more on that later.

Sixth: I’m skipping a lot of intervening content BUT at the ball, during the dance, she says “this is just what we do, isn’t it?” to which Nina emphatically replies that no, it isn’t. So even though Nina has been effected by an emotion-suppressing aura, she hasn’t lost her memory of how society generally works in 2023, but somehow Maggie isn’t up to date. This is parallel to Point #2, not knowing how to order coffee.

Seventh: Aziraphale’s attempted miracle memory wipe doesn’t work on her. I’ve seen others suggest that it’s due to a miracle blocker but all of his other miracles work, so…

Eighth: Nina calls her “angel.” You thought it was cute. It’s not. It’s a double-bluff. She’s actually an angel.

Ninth: She tells Crowley that “we’re real people.” Okay, human police officer Inspector Constable, whatever you say.

The rest of this is wild speculation. Abandon hope all ye who read below the fold.

So of course this raises the question: why are is the hitchhiker here, and what was Human!Maggie’s motivation to give them permission to hitchhike?

I’ll start with Human!Maggie’s motivation. I believe that she is not just pretendy-good but a properly good person who feels a lot of anguish about her failing business, one that’s been in the family for 100 years, and guilt for not paying her rent. I think she prayed for help, and a “guardian angel” answered her prayers, and she gave that angel permission to possess her and fix the problem.

As for why the angel answered her prayers, I propose that the Metatron sent them to fuck around with Aziraphale. My evidence is that Maggie frequently meddles to Aziraphale’s detriment. In chronological order:

She puts him in a moral choice position: if he evicts her, he’s the bad guy. If he forgives her rent, he’s done something good. Both of these can be leveraged by the Metatron. Notably, after he forgives the rent, Maggie calls him an angel, perhaps to remind him whose side he’s really on *wink wink nudge nudge.*

She confides in her landlord about her crush on the business owner across the street, who’s already in a relationship?! How ridiculously inappropriate?? Maggie??!! But she does, and plants the idea in his head about love, which ultimately becomes the runaway train that makes him extremely vulnerable later.

She refuses to leave the shop during the attack (S2E5), I propose is for purposes of fucking over Aziraphale, as evidenced by…

For this part, I need you to go back and watch it. S2E6 at 3:28. During the pissing contest at the threshold, Maggie turns her head away, there is a sound effect, and that’s when she turns back to Shax and invites the demons in. Hitchhiker!Maggie has taken over and rolled out the carpet for the enemy invasion.

Maggie is the instigator of the “you have to talk about your feelings” conversation, dragging Nina from behind the counter across the street while she has a shop full of customers. Considering that the Metatron is at that very moment at the French restaurant next door, making a job offer to Aziraphale, the timing choice seems very suspect. Almost as if they coordinated to talk to each husband while they were separated.

So, it is possible that Hitchhiker!Maggie was sent by the Metatron as a spy and a saboteur to meddle with Aziraphale. To what end, specifically? Probably to get him to break up with Crowley and/or get him to return to Heaven, but ultimately, I just don’t know. I will admit that I don’t have a very strong conviction that this will become canon, but it was fun to write and I hope that it was fun to read! Leave a note if you enjoyed it!

edit: a link to another meta about why this was such an effective strategy against the husbands

[thefirstknife]

Let's chat

So, the Winnower. Right?

Today, they finally released the lore on one of the ships that you got if you purchased (pre-ordered?) the annual pass. The ship is called Nacre. As usual with names of things in Destiny, this means something, though I'm currently unsure about the significance of this name in relation to the text of the lore tab.

But the text of this lore tab will cause a billion discussions and people will fervently believe in one side or the other. You'll understand why the moment you start reading the lore tab (I'll go through it a bit later in the text) if you remember the style of Unveiling. It's written in the same style with many references to Unveiling and the author speaks to us post-Witness' defeat (most likely).

I think it's intended to make us discuss and argue, given the inherent unreliability and religiosity of the subject.

But let's go back a little bit. Why the Winnower? Well, the word "Winnower" was finally mentioned in-game by the Witness. When you finish the second encounter in the Salvation's Edge raid, you proceed towards the third, and at one point the Witness will speak (it speaks a lot during the raid):

The rest of the post below:

Many people, upon hearing this, have jumped to the conclusion that the "Winnower" is now confirmed as a real thing; including Byf who made a video about it and now everyone and their grandma believes this fully and is already constructing fanfics about the next big bad.

And it could be true! But to claim that this line specifically confirms the Winnower makes me question people's media literacy. This line is spoken by the Witness. The Witness has both the reason to lie to us, but also the reason to believe in the Winnower. This is unreliable narration 101: the Witness could believe that it serves something else, that the reason it destroyed its own and many other civilisations is because it is following something greater. Obviously the Witness would believe that it's "the first knife" of some godly entity. It's religion. The word of a religious person who believes in a deity is not the proof that the deity exists.

This does not mean that the Winnower is NOT real. We don't know if it is. This only means that we can't use this specific source as proof.

But this line is very interesting to me because of how it's phrased. Initially, I believed that the Witness spoke to us, the Guardians, because that's what it does throughout the raid. But after a few reads, this feels like it's at least partially aimed at the Traveler as well. The third line in particular is interesting: "Each child we save from the game, you again force to play." This feels like it's talking about the Traveler's growing/resurrecting powers, especially about how it resurrected Guardians. We were dead, but then we were forced to play again. It's also speaking about it like the "game" which can be a sort of 4th wall-breaking, but also it could clearly be referring to Unveiling which also calls it playing a game.

The last line is also interesting in this context: "Gods forged us both." Who is "us"? Obviously the Witness considers itself here, but which "gods" forged what else? Does the Witness consider the Traveler to be a god, forging the Guardians? The next line is also weird in this context, telling us that despite gods forging us, "they cannot tell the knife what shape to carve." Either the Witness still doesn't understand the Traveler or the Traveler is not considered as the god because that's the Traveler's whole philosophy: it creates things, but it doesn't tell those things what to do. It would never tell us what shape to carve. So if this is not referring to the Traveler forging Guardians, it might be referring to something else forging the Traveler. Possibly! I am very intrigued by these lines and the line of thinking the Witness uses here.

But let's go back to the Winnower. As I already said, this doesn't prove anything, it only proves that the Witness believes in it. We also know that the Witness believes in this because in the final mission it also told us that it is "the first knife, the edge that carved purpose into being." Later, after its defeat, Mara and Ikora discussed this phrase, which I covered in this post. This discussion also entertained the possibility that there's something else beyond the Witness, something that wielded it as a "knife." Mara and Ikora don't make any conclusions; they discuss the possibility, but they end it with "we don't know."

They discuss it in the context of Unveiling; this lore book is canonically available to read to characters in the game, which is neat! It's been discussed several times now in the lore, and it's discussed here as well. Mara and Ikora have read Unveiling, it's where they've read about "the first knife" concept and are wondering what it all means and if there's a way to figure out the truth in the allegories. Again, they don't know the answer. And neither do we!

However, we as players have more information than the characters. I'm pretty sure the delay on the lore for Nacre was on purpose, because it would've been confusing to read that before defeating the Witness. The lore tab itself has no clear author; the only way to tell is to speculate based on the style and phrases used. The style will immediately be reminiscent of Unveiling (and the one page in Books of Sorrow when something speaks to Oryx). It's casual and friendly, but persuasive.

Let's read it piece by piece:

Let's chat, shall we? One more nice sit-down for the books. Did you think you wouldn't hear from me again, after all this? You'd have missed me, I hope—and I would certainly have missed you. Have no fear. I'm not so easy to be rid of. Now, let me show you: my beloved. Oh, no, not my sedimentary necrolite, fossilized in time. You've seen that. I speak of that dear and distant expanse of the universe, miraculous in its fullness and its emptiness all at once. Are you surprised to hear of it? Yes, I never much cared for the change of rules, but here we are, and there's no use in crying over spilled radiolaria. Besides, at the heart of it all, there was a gift. To me. That gift is the chance to speak with you. You, and a billion like you.

A few points right away. It's telling us that we should chat and that it hopes we didn't think we'd never hear from it again. If this is truthful and can be trusted, then it would be alluding to it speaking to us before, in Unveiling. But we've gone over the debate about Unveiling and who wrote it; most recent information was that it has to have been the Witness and the characters in-game believe so as well. So what's the truth now? I don't know! That's a full sentence. We simply don't know. There are far too many variables, allegories, metaphors and unreliable (and completely unknown) narrators.

Both options could also be true at the same time; if the Witness somehow managed to get a glimpse of the Winnower (in whatever form this entity exists), perhaps the Witness was given a speech of this nature which it could've adopted on purpose to further spread propaganda to others and to convince itself (and others) that it is a part of something greater. Again, we simply don't know.

The author continues telling us that it wants to show us its "beloved." It then goes into a bizarre description of something as "sedimentary necrolite, fossilised in time." I am not sure what this refers to, but it could be referring to the Witness? Because we've "seen that." A "necrolite" is an old term for a type of stinky minerals that form rocks which might be referring to the Witness' obsession to calcify and preserve things as they are; therefore, "fossilised in time." It could also mean something else. Really strange!

Either way, the author does not refer to that, whatever it is, it refers to the universe as a whole. The universe is its beloved. Then it continues and draws back from Unveiling directly. It tells us that it "never much cared for the change of the rules," the rules being the rules of the flower game and the change being the one the Gardener put in the game. It even jokes with "no use in crying over spilled radiolaria," a reference to the fact that previously, the winners of the game were always the Vex.

The interesting bit here is that, if the author was indeed talking about its disregard for the Witness, then the Witness claiming to be "the first knife" the Winnower wielded is not true. If this author is the Winnower, it does not really care about the Witness or its view of the final shape. Hell, the line about Winnower discovering the first knife in Unveiling would then not refer to the Witness at all, but despite that, the Witness believed itself to be that knife. This is why we can't use the Witness' words as any sort of proof, but also we can't use this narrator's words either.

To go back to the change in the rules, another intriguing thing is, in Unveiling, the Winnower appeared to be angry about the change. It's what made it "discover the first knife" and begin the fight with the Gardener. But here, it claims it didn't care about it after all.

I believe this is important to understand that what we're dealing here is not a clear cut truthful chat with a friend. The author of this text, and the author of Unveiling, does not have to tell us the truth and we simply have no clue which one of these statements is truth, if any. Or, it simply changed its mind; perhaps it was angry back then, but now it no longer is, because it realised that the change in rules gave it the ability to speak to us, something it appears to value greatly. And "us" does not just refer to us as Guardians or even humanity, it appears to be referring to all living creatures in the universe. It continues:

I am making this offer over and over again, in every tiniest cell and the vastest of civilizations. Let me in. Take what you need. Be at ease. You have no say in the degradation of your telomeres, but in all the interim, the whole world is your sweet silicate shellfish. You exist because you have been more suited to it than all the others. Steal what you require from another rather than spend the hours to build it yourself. Break foolish rules—why would you love regulation? It serves you to cross lines, and if others needed rules to protect them, then they were not after all worthy of that existence.

This also seems to be a continuation of its philosophy in Unveiling. About taking and breaking and destroying and whether or not someone is worthy of existence.

Caricatures of villainy are out of style, I hear. Yes. I am no cackling mastermind: I am serious when I say this. It was not the trick of standing upright that lifted you from the dust: it was the mastery of fire, the cooking of cold corpse-meat. That is not any unique faction's province, neither good nor evil. It is simply truth.

And this as well, continues with its claims that it is, essentially, neutral. It is not a villain, it's merely stating the truth that sometimes destructive forces can be good. This can also have a second meaning, telling us that it will not be our villain in the game. As in, we will not be fighting against this entity because it's not something that can be fought in the first place, nor does it care to fight. The final paragraph adds:

This great, beloved cosmos. Always decaying, always finding that same old lovely pattern, despite every candle-flame burning amid the flowers. A billion electrons taking the path of least resistance. In Darkness or in Light, someone is always making my choice. Be seeing you.

Some more references to Unveiling with "same old lovely pattern" and stuff about flowers. And then it ends with telling us that Darkness and Light don't really matter because either way "someone is always making my choice." We can assume this means the choice to violence. And that's true; Darkness and Light, as we've learned, are not moral forces. Many atrocities were committed by Lightbearers, and Darkness users have, throughout the universe, been benevolent.

The author concludes telling us that it will be seeing us.

What does it all mean? We don't know!

I think a lot of people will take this literally; this is the proof of the Winnower, this is the proof that it is preparing to be the next big bad, that we will see it eventually, etc.

I'm personally not sure if the literal reading makes sense, primarily because we have no way to verify anything it said or who sent it and how. But also, if we accept that it is written in the style of Unveiling (which seems fairly obvious), then we also have to accept that it's not entirely reliable or fully truthful. As in, there's a lot of metaphors and philosophy here, rather than facts. Some of it could be facts, but we can't tell which those are.

I also think a lot of people will immediately conclude that this proves the Winnower as a real entity that exists somewhere that will be relevant going forward. Personally, I don't know. I'm not inclined to believe either option just yet. If we knew more about the source of this (and I'm not taking into account the Witness' beliefs), then it would be easier to discuss it, but for me this is just something that remains a mystery for now, in the same way a religion would be. This is what makes it interesting to me.

A reading I'm partial to is that this is a really neat conclusion on that chapter of the story without telling us too many details and facts about a text that, genuinely, reads better if it remains unexplained. There's... something... out there. We can call it the Winnower for simplicity. But this entity is not some sort of big bad physical being that's scheming behind the scenes and directing its pieces around; it does not care. It did not care about the Witness and its final shape, despite the Witness believing, potentialy, that it is enacting exactly what the Winnower wanted, calling itself its "first knife."

This entity is not the way the Witness imagined it or believed in it. This entity does not need to involve itself or even be physical; its adherents are everywhere in the universe, all the time, because "someone is always making my choice." No matter where we go in the universe and how much we explore it, we will eventually find those that choose this. It cannot be removed or defeated. We defeated the Witness, yes, but someone else can always rise up to do something similar. The fight is never done and it's not tied to simply Light and Dark. Our choice is not over because we won here; we could always choose differently in the future.

It honestly feels like a setup for us going forward, but not for us meeting the Winnower or fighting it; instead, to tell us that if we plan on exploring more of the "beloved" universe, we will always find those we disagree with, those to fight, those who made the other choice. And if we're not careful, we may end up making that choice too. Whatever that entity is, the universe is making its argument for it and it will never truly be defeated. It can't be!

The Witness wanted to end the game. This entity states that the game has to play itself out.

Or it could mean something completely different. I'm not going to claim anything one way or the other and I think it's genuinely really baffling that anyone would try to do so. We all have our preferences for the story, but I don't think any of them are sufficiently backed up and I'm not going to hype myself up for a scenario that will probably never happen. Or we'll be hearing about "bad writing" and "retcons" in a few years time when the Winnower never shows up (or if it does).

The point is that this is a very intriguing piece of lore that fits perfectly with the mystery and religiosity of Unveiling. It's not some huge epic reveal, though it could always be something more in the future. However, we would have to get a lot more information to be able to make that conclusion. Something spoke to us in this lore tab, but we have no way of knowing who or how or why exactly now. We have no way to verify it either; is the author legitimate or is this a scheme from someone else pretending to be it? And even if the author is legitimately some other entity, is it truthful? Can we trust it? Should we? Does it even matter? Is this information important for us to understand our enemies or is this just insight into the philosophy and metaphysics of the setting?

Is the Winnower real? We don't know.

Is Unveiling still an allegorical mystery with some truths that we can't really tell apart from the metaphors? Pretty much yeah.

Is there going to be a lot to discuss about this going forward? Absolutely. It's why I wanted to write about it immediately because it's fascinating and I can't wait to see all the ways people will interpret it. I highly recommend that everyone reads it themselves and compare to Unveiling (and the last two pages of Inspiral).

I just don't want people to subscribe too hard to a single narrative and then get incredibly disappointed if it doesn't happen. There is not a single narrative being promised by this lore tab and we have no confirmed facts. But I'm super excited to see where this goes in the following years. Even if it goes "nowhere" as in this does not end up being setup for some big antagonist 5 years from now, I find it incredible that this was part of the setting. Weird space religions and bizarre entities from beyond the universe are some of my favourite parts of scifi so this whole thing, no matter how it ends, is a 10/10 story for me.

[yenleak]

A. Remy and her fanbase are the most problematic thing that happened in RC fandom

Not only she is rude to people being realistic/critical about her writing, but also clearly xenophobic and arrogant. I will never forgive her for the fact that she allows artists to draw people of color like this... Why making stories only about them – and their religion... – at all if she can't do any real research and figure out what she should be writing about?

Im also annoyed by the fact that SOTCN has no plot and too many holes in it. How does Livius know about Evthys' presence in that dream, if the dream did not belong to him, but to his ex? And what is generally known about the disease and why don't we hear anything about it? Why buy information about it to find out only the general features that we already heard about in previous chapters?.. It seems like the author herself just kind of threw the whole arc of disease to concentrate on Evthys' runaway.

KFS is weird, also. i am very concerned about the way Remy portrays the atmosphere in the story. The dynamics of relationship between Indians and British are so unclear? At one point they are very normal about presence of the whites, and Devi is so okay with marrying Ian even though they allegedly making plans and so on. I just mean that she has no thoughts other than couple of phrases in the beginning and we see very little of real relationships and historical accurate circumstances. And I think that you should be responsible for portrayal of the whole CULTURE and the least you can do is to make it less fetishized and inaccurate.

The way Remy is fully aware of what shes doing but purposefully ignores the amount of complaints our fandom has. She listens to her russian-speaking followers who do nothing but blindly admire her work without thinking about the representation she gives. And when someone point out on her mistakes she gets mad , subtly aggressive. If you know russian you can just take a look on her telegram channel and replies shes gives. Its arrogant and kind of disrespectful because the rejection of your own mistakes and the eternal justification and blame on others shows your true attitude towards your readers.

My main complaint is only about how illiterate she writes, how much she takes on herself and how she doesn't give a fuck about other cultures. And the fact that so many people love her and then misunderstand POC makes it so much worse

[ride-thedragon]

Before I start this, I don't want any hate towards this person, I won't include their user name, or the platform I got it from and if you do know leave it be but I want to talk about my issues with what they said. I don't know them.

This is really weird and reductive. I'm not saying you can't be a fan of Rhaena potentially getting Nettles' storyline even if I'm not, but the way this is framed is horrible.

Nettles specifically is George using stereotypes of black girls and women and subverting them.

Nettles is 'dark' and 'ugly' because it's a Valyrian beauty standard that is being upheld. It could very well simply be her black features that are being called ugly. Look at who says it in the books and look and who maintains it. They are all white.

Now I'm not one to say we can't have ugly characters, but I am one to impose something in the written narrative, and in this case, that plays out into George subverting racial stereotypes with Nettles. So, while she could be ugly, I also think there is a large possibility that she isn't. She could just look unambiguously black.

I'm not one to defend a white man against racism allegations, but not all the black and brown women are sexually promiscuous. George does have an orientalism issue, but let's not deny that there are characters like Missandei, Sarella, and Nymeria in the narrative. Summer Islander characters are a bit harder, but there is a real-world reason for them to be sexual, its not just George on his snow bunny arc. Their culture views it as a type of worship.

There are 3 fics under the Nettles / Addam Velayron tag, and I've read one that isn't like that. I'm not saying it's not plausible, I'm just saying out of three fics it's not that big of a deal. As for bigger Nettles fics and ships. it's a stretch to say that half are written in her own pov, but typically, her stories have a romantic arc because that's what most fanfics do. Create romantic arcs. And as someone who's read the majority of her fics (I'm being dead ass), it's not mindless sex. It's a conclusion to her romantic narrative arc about 75% of the time. Call it bias but I can't remember the last time I read a Nettles fic where the writers let her be a whore. We've failed on that mark. We have a snow bunny issue, but outside of that, it's not that serious (free my girls from the shackles of white men)

Moving on to the weird respectability politics. "Smart, tough, elegant, and not becoming the street urchin /ghetto stereotype like Nettles."

The only thing that stereotype doesn't have in common with that phrase is elegant. That's literally the only difference. I'm not American, so I'm not going to impose myself on that view, but I will speak to holding anyone to respectability politics. Black girls especially don't have to act one way to be better than others. There isn't one way to be black. That goes hand in hand with being both respectable and assimilating and 'ghetto'. It's reductive to say that anyone should be and applying the 'better' one to Rhaena and baela and the 'worse' one to Nettles is foolish and ignorant. I will have a bigger post on this soon.

As I've said countless times before, Rhaena taking Nettles' story is racist because they aren't interchangeable. Rhaena isn't black, nor is she poor or disposable within the narrative. Daemon isn't going to be miraculously proud of her. Nettles deserves her narrative. No one can cry the way Nettles does after the Battle of the Gullet. Not even Baela and Addam or Alyn. No one can have their life seen as disposable by Rhaenyra like Nettles can and no one can start the burned men but Nettles.

For the show, it doesn't make sense to take Nettles out entirely. There are way too many gaps to full when you can just add her character.

Lastly and all of this to say, you don't have to defend liking something, making stuff up is weird and acting as though it's a better choice to combine a black character and a non black character is crazy. It can just be a choice you like.

On the other hand, I want all three final girls because I can have them, and there is no reason not to.

[yuurei20]

I've noticed Epel keeps adding 'kana' to the end of his sentences. What does it mean?

Hello hello! Thank you so, so much for this question, I have always wanted to mention this.

“Kana” can be a multitude of things in English, such as “probably,” “I guess,” “I think,” “I wonder,” etc. A basic explanation would be, “a word used to express uncertainty,” but like most things when it comes to language, that is not the only thing it does.

A quick review of Epel: from his first day at NRC he has been under order from Vil to “speak more politely,” as he tends to use informal speech with his senpai.

As you point out, Epel often adds “kana” to what he is saying, and that is because one of the things that it can do is ‘soften’ something that you’re saying in order to make it sound less direct, and thus more polite.

Examples: Epel telling Kalim that his assumption is wrong, telling Vil that he disagrees with him, saying that his Phantom Bride look is weird, etc., these are all sentences that he is awkwardly gentling via “kana,” often after several ellipses or a comma, as though it is not a part of his normal speech pattern.

This gets into cultural differences: When Ace assumes that Epel is dedicated to a certain brand of apple juice, for example, an English-speaking Epel could probably respond, “That’s not actually the case!,” without sounding rude. But that could be interpreted as a little brusque in Japanese.

In order to soften the expression Epel adds “kana” at the end, which sounds more like, “That might not be the case,” “I’m not sure that is exactly what is going on,” etc., in English.

Even though he knows for 100% certainty that he is not actually dedicated to a certain brand of juice, he is still using “kana” in order to not sound too straightforward.

(screenshot from maggiesensei.com)

(This can and does cause issues when moving in between languages: a Japanese learner who only knows that “kana” means “I think” might not add it onto sentences where they are certain about something, and thus risk annoying their Japanese-speaking colleagues, for example. In contrast, an English learner may say “I think” too often, leading their English-speaking colleagues to wonder why they don’t seem to actually know anything. It’s all part of the joy of language and culture!)

While there are several words in Japanese that can be used to soften your phrasing, Epel seems to have latched onto “kana” in particular, possibly because it is an easy word to add on to the last part of what might otherwise be a rude sentence in an attempt to avoid a reprimand from Vil. 

Other times Epel will belatedly add “desu” onto his sentences, also in a bid to sound more polite than he is used to speaking. 

If you are a language learner I would not recommend using Epel as an example of when to use “kana,” as he will sometimes shoehorn it into places in an unnatural way (as a part of his character).

EN is doing its best to recreate Epel’s “kana” by including things like “kind of,” “not sure” and “maybe” in his dialogue, but as sounding uncertain doesn’t necessarily mean you sound polite in English, this may not be having the same effect. And I have no idea how they would go about recreating this habit of Epel’s in a way that can properly portray what is happening in English—it might just be one of those things that gets lost in translation :<

Bonus: The Japanese language has four different alphabets (kanji, katakana, hiragana, romaji), and katakana is the alphabet used for foreign loanwords. 

Whereas other characters who use honorifics have “-kun” and “-san” written in hiragana in their dialogue, Epel’s dialogue uses katakana. This is possibly meant to symbolize how using honorifics in these situations is foreign to him, and he is not used to it.

(When he does shift into using honorifics in hiragana, it is only when he is talking to people from his own village: people he is used to!)

[originalaccountname]

Sorry to bother you but I’ve been getting into BSD and Chuuya’s my fave, but I’ve been seeing some contradictory things in fanfic so…

Does Chuuya actually have a god sealed inside him? I thought it was just like his power without limitations and was dubious of those takes, but since eldritch beings can apparently be a thing (and not an ability), I think it could be plausible either way.

Though even if it’s not I can see why people would use that route for some good angst.

This is not a bother at all! This is something I very much like to talk about

if you're really new I do recommend you go read both "Dazai, Chuuya, Fifteen Years Old" and "STORM BRINGER" light novels (but SB especially), not only are they great books with Chuuya as the focal point but they will help answer your question in depth (you can buy the English translations but I can help you find the translation online if that's what you need, just message me again)

The short version is that Arahabaki being an actual god, a separate entity from Chuuya that has a personality/a voice/desires, is a common fanon trope, but not a canon fact. The truth is more complex and much more fun, lore-wise, in my opinion

And now the long version, because I'm passionate about this and this is my excuse to deep dive into it (spoilers for Fifteen)

In Fifteen, Chuuya says this:

Chuuya himself presents "Arahabaki" as nothing more than pure power. No thoughts, no personality, but powerful for sure.

That phrasing in Fifteen created a lot of confusion I think, talking about gods as real but also not:

But I think it's more of a symbolic reference, talking about immense power that seem out of this world. Because in practice, as Chuuya said before, "Arahabaki" is simply raw power, not an entity. You can't pray to it, it can't understand you, it can't perform miracles (which is why he knew the Old Boss couldn't have been brought back by Arahabaki and it was all nonsense from the start)

I'm also putting part of the blame on the anime, where they decided (while not being exactly wrong either, out of context it's weird) to illustrate Chuuya "floating in a bluish-black darkness, surrounded by a transparent seal" and being pulled out by a hand:

like this:

When, if you actually reread that part in the novel with knowledge about Storm Bringer, it's actually this moment that was being referred to:

Which brings us to Storm Bringer! (heavy spoilers I'm serious)

"Project Arahabaki" was the Japanese government's attempt to create an ability weapon from an individual. They wanted to craft a singularity that could be used multiple times, thus granting them access to power that should not be accessible normally. They based their research on what France had discovered through Verlaine. The objective is to create a massive energy output through a self-contradicting ability, for which you need a vessel:

Chuuya is the device. "Arahabaki" is the massive energy. That massive energy can control gravity to the point of being able to create localized black holes! N implied that part of the lab's work for the Arahabaki Project was to modify Chuuya's body to be able to withstand the constant gravity effects on it so he doesn't just die. Chuuya's normal use of his ability doesn't seem to have any drastic effects on him, and his physical resilience (to getting hit, stabbed, poisoned, shot, electrocuted, to going through a black hole) does seem to imply they did succeed at least in part.

And this bit here explains why "Arahabaki" was the chosen name for the project; unexplained phenomena across History that can be linked to an ability going haywire, but were attributed to god-like interventions at the time. So you're a funny little mad scientist, you read research papers from another mad scientist that named their own creation after a mythological monster, and you decide to do the same with your own local folklore.

But!

There's still something to be said about how "Arahabaki" is a singularity, and therefore, has its own set of rules. Chuuya does loose control, Chuuya does regress to a sort of destructive instinct while under Corruption. But "Arahabaki" is still no more than an ability singularity. Here's what is said about Guivre and Arahabaki:

They are both singularity life-forms. They exist because they are singularities; outside of it, they are nothing. The inner workings of abilities are still mysterious, but most of them have a link to their wielder's desires. For example, Atsushi's Tiger is there to protect him, a mirror to his will to live no matter what. Verlaine's Guivre is similar:

Guivre was a beast born out of Verlaine's loneliness and resulting hatred. He felt deeply alone in not feeling/being human, and through Pan's (his "creator") special "programming" of Verlaine's ability, N was able to trigger the true form of his singularity with that flare gun and metal powder, which took the form of Guivre. It's what the hat was supposed to prevent, but Verlaine had already lost it by then.

Chuuya's Arahabaki is probably similar. Its first apparition was when Rimbaud tried to absorb him and use his ability for himself, and any subsequent use is linked to grief and survival. Basically, if they're their own entities, they are still born in a specific context and deeply linked to the original ability user's character. And Arahabaki? Only exists if Chuuya uses his activation phrase to get rid of the limitations put into place to prevent him from exploding:

More about about Corruption: SB is kind enough to give us an explanation on how the nullification process works, right here:

Chuuya's self-contradicting ability makes him able to control gravity through the sheer amount of energy it creates by permanently interacting with itself. It is kept under control through the use of an activation phrase, O grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again, which, after being either said or thought by Chuuya, will open his "Gate" (which I'm interpreting as a blocker put in place by the lab so the singularity doesn't just kill him, like those poor people they mentioned existed through History), and by opening it, "free Arahabaki's true power" (aka Corruption). When Dazai uses his ability on him, the base self-contradicting ability is nullified, which cancels out the singularity taking place, which stops Corruption and allows that "Gate" to close again. The red markings are there because they're cool and fun.

To conclude, I'll let Dazai do the honors:

bonus: what does that mean for Chuuya's ability?

bons 2: Perceived timeline of Chuuya's past and what happened to to create confusion around his humanity

[subtly-a-selkie]

OMG IM SO NERVOUS KDJSB

but like imagine hiro with an s/o who loves to collect random stuff or like picks up rocks and gives them to hiro and is like “here this rock reminded me of you” ODMSJSHHA

i absolutely adore this ask! it might just be because i do the same thing but i’m really excited to write it. I’m so so so sorry for the delay, i had surgery in july and have been recovering since then, plus the Anniversary was last month. (yes that's a long time but please cut me some slack I have been doing my best) anyways i hope you like it! because its been so long since i started it, i wrote it a little differently than usual. it's like a little collection of moments.

also! not only do I now have an ao3, but i also have a taglist! both are linked in my navigation.

Word count: A little over 1k :)

Warnings: Big Hero Six: The Series lore thrown in (Bessie is a meteorite bear, yes it is as weird as it sounds). We are going to pretend I payed for my own matcha ice cream and know how much it was. San Fransokyo cable cars are officially Not That Expensive because I said so. i apparently really like the word intertwine

"I'm back!" You exclaim, sitting down on Hiro's bed to look at him. He was still in the same position as when you had left, staring blankly at his computer screen, he had been trying to fix something on Baymax's suit and you could tell by his slumped posture he hadn't succeeded yet. He brightens up at your voice, and rolls his chair around to face you.

"How was your adventure into the woods?" He asks, pressing the save button on his document.

"Your phrasing makes it sound like there was a seventy percent chance that I would have dropped dead as soon as I heard a bird that isn't a pigeon."

"There's moose, mosquitos, and Bessie in those woods Y/N. I'd say eighty."

"Bessie likes me Hiro. Because I appreciate nature while you would rather wither away staring at a screen."

"Bessie doesn't like anyone. She's a bear."

"A bear that likes me." You retort, laughing at his expression. "Oh! I got you something!" You rummage in your bag and pull out a rock. "Its shaped like Mochi!" 

"So a round rock." Hiro says and you gasp, cupping your hands around Mochi's ears, who had taken up residence on your lap almost as soon as you had sat down on the bed.

"Don't listen to him Mochi you are perfectly cat shaped." You coo at the cat who meows smugly in response.

Hiro takes the rock from where it lay on the bed, you had abandoned it in favor of the real Mochi, turning it over in his hands. You're right, he admits to himself, it does look uncannily like Mochi, even having discoloration where he has his patches. He moves his gaze to you and smiles, setting rock Mochi down on his desk. 

"You know that ice cream place you've been wanting to go to? The one with matcha ice cream?" 

You lift your head from your fussing over Mochi at his voice and smile back at him. "Yeah?"

He responds by standing up and pulling a ten dollar bill out of his pant pocket, then intertwining your fingers and pulling you up off the bed. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

"Hi." You say intertwining your arms around Hiro's shoulders. He's sitting in his chair playing video games with Fred, and you're leaning against the back of the chair.

"Hi." He replies, as you rest your head where his neck meets his shoulder. You stay like that for a bit until his character dies and he disconnects the call, much to Freds chagrin if the whining from Hiro's speakers is anything to go by. He then spins his chair around so you are face to face.

"Hi." He repeats watching as your face brightens in remembrance.

"Oh! I have something for you." You pull a dark feather out of your pocket, smoothing it out before handing it to him. "It reminded me of you." 

"A feather reminded you of me?" He says  as he turns over in his hands.

"Yeah! It's the exact color of your hair."

"I don't think my hair is this pretty in the light though." He's twisting the feather through a sun beam, watching as the hidden iridescent colors are showcased. He turns suddenly, and places it with the Mochi rock, a patterned paper crane, and a few other items.

He turns back to you and opens his arms, you accept the offer for a hug almost immediately, resting your head back on where his neck meets his shoulder.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Your hands rake through the smooth quartz, and you turn a couple over in your hand before moving on to a different plastic box of crystals. You stop when you've chosen one and risk a glance over at Hiro. He is looking at the things you had handed him, the things that you picked out for yourself, this particular crystal is for him though, and you have to somehow pay for it without him noticing. Curling your hand into a fist to hide it, you tug on Hiro's jacket.

"I've found everything I need." You say smiling at him, he nods and leads the way to the cashier, placing your things on the counter, and reaching for his wallet. 

"You paid for the food, I can pay for my things." He pauses.

"You sure?" 

"Yeah." You wait until he's looking at what they have set up next to the counter to add the crystal to your other things, making eye contact with the cashier and then flicking your eyes over to your boyfriend. She seems to have caught your message, and wraps the crystal in tissue paper, along with a couple of the more delicate items.

"Would you like a bag?" She asks

"Yes please." You take the bag from her and intertwine your fingers with Hiro's, leading the both of you out of the shop and onto the streets of San Fransokyo.

"Where should we go next?" He asks you, bringing you closer to him by tugging on your hand, then lifting your joined hands and pressing a kiss to the back of yours. 

"Hm." Your eyes scan the street you and Hiro are on, and your eyes light up at a banner that showcases the aquariums deep sea exhibit. You gasp, and turn to look at Hiro.

"You want to go the the aquarium?" He asks before you can say anything, and you nod enthusiastically. Luckily there's a cable car stop just up ahead, and you both sit on the bench as you wait. Hiro takes a drink of his water and you dig around in your bag to find his gift.

"I have something for you." You say. Hiro finishes zipping up his backpack and turns to look at  you. You hand him the wrapped crystal and he unwraps it, turning the smooth rock over in his palm, and reading the little card that came with it.

"Did you get this at the shop we were just at?" He asks, a slight laugh to his tone.

"Yes." You grin at him and more of a laugh makes its way into his voice.

"I love it." He slips it into one of his backpack pockets and intertwines your fingers once more, resting his head on yours.

People tagged <3

@oyasumimosura your hiro fic is on my list but here's something in the meantime

[hitlikehammers]

intimately entwined

rating: e (but not how you think) ♥️ cw: the deepest intimacies in the most unexpected places knocking someone on their ass  ♥️ tags: established relationship, care-taking, casual intimacy, fluff, relationship development, slice of life, idiots in love

for @steddielovemonth day three: Love is wanting to do everything with someone, even if its nothing special

and yes, again: these boys probably grow up to star in the rockstar-husbands-with-the-sex-toys fic je ne regrette rien which will have a sequel flavoured revival via @subeddieweek in April whaaaaaatttt

“Another.”

And the way it’s said: it’s almost fucking expectant too, Jesus Christ, this man.

“You’re sure this is okay?”

Because, like, Eddie needs to know it is. He needs to check, then double check, then triple check because…because this feels like a wholly different step, y’know? This feels like crossing a kind of line they haven’t even dared to tiptoe near just yet, wholly different from all the other lines they’ve navigated, both reckless and careless but together, always, and that helps, in theory. It helps to know that no matter how they’ve fumbled or triumphed in this, between them: it’s been hand in hand. Before, and during, and after.

Still, though. This is…this just feels very fucking different. The kind of boundary with implications that feel heavy and expansive under Eddie’s ribs. Maybe it should seem less monumental compared to other shit they’ve done, and most of that with far less deliberation and hesitation for them, at that. But this does, it…Eddie genuinely believes this pumps weird and novel through his veins, because it is different; and incredible for it, no question. Terrifying. Wholly beggars belief, honestly, and Eddie never really understood that phrase meant but.

He thinks this thing fits it, to a T.

“I said it was, didn’t I?”

Eddie blinks, recenters: was it okay?

And this, this…brilliant perfect little shit: Eddie can hear the smirk in his voice without even looking. He can hear the amusement as much as the loose-ends of frustration. Like Eddie is being absurd here.

Which: what the actual fuck; seriously.

Like, like: goddamn seriously.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, a little hesitant, a lot fucking dazed; “yeah you did,” because…he did. From the beginning, from even before they settled int to start this: Steve had been…vocally enthusiastic. Not that Eddie hadn’t been! He’d mostly just, he’d just been—

“You think I’m fucking with you?”

Again: without having to see Eddie clocks the eye roll, the not-even-subtle challenge in it.

Alongside the nugget of genuine hurt held for if it turns out true and that: no.

No, Eddie will not fucking have that, so.

Okay, he won’t have that, but also first:

“I mean, yeah—“ because umm…their sex life is a little undeniable.

Steve snorts; how. How

“Here and now, jackass,” he snipes back and Eddie…Eddie really and truly doesn’t fucking know what to do with this. How cal, Steve is. How focused and dedicated to the task. How monumentally and profoundly, just…

How this is sitting in his chest as so much more than the rest of it somehow in a way Eddie cannot wrap his mind around to understand and it’s frightening. Not understanding something so clearly and intimately important; so clearly fucking intimate.

“Not exactly,” Eddie ultimately settles on speaking rather than continuing to gape, continuing to stew in his terror as his heartbeat picks up but speed, it comes out more choked than he’d been hoping; less convincing by a mile as a result. “I don’t think you’re fucking with me like, like it’s something intentional,” and Eddie seeks out Steve’s gaze directly then because that’s it, that’s the hurt part he needs to root out and not crush to bits because he doesn’t crush any part of the man he loves, ever; no.

No, Eddie needs to root that out so he can draw it into the pounding in his chest warm and safe to be cradled and adored until it snuffs itself out in contented fucking joy, for being loved right. Like it deserves.

Which might be part of the problem in the present case just: this time it’s a problem for Eddie.

“Like not mean or anything,” he reiterates, to make absolute sure of this part too; “I just…”

Steve watches him as he struggles to put any part of it into words, can’t even move, or fidget like this: caught, and kinda giddily so underneath everything else, and maybe he needs to lean into that base sensation, see if he can chart his way out from the center versus stumbling around the sides:

“It can’t be, like, enjoyable,” is what he ultimately settles on saying as clear as he came because honestly, that sums up the bulk of it.

Plus he’s learned by now to trust Steve to reach around his rougher edges and find the heart of his meaning, or else, and probably more often: hold his hand as the send out a search party between them for the right words.

Because that’s still it, isn’t it: together.

And of everything else, Eddie doesn’t have to even pysch himself up to trust in that; it just it. It comes natural like breathing.

“Umm,” Steve draws out, a little incredulous; “why not?”

Why not? Why isn’t this exchange clearly one-sided?

“Because,” Eddie tries to find his words, or at least some of them: “I guess, what do you get out of it?”

Steve’s the one glancing to lock their gazes and Eddie…Eddie doesn’t feel ashamed where he might have early on. But he recognises the similar dive where it still lives in his stomach for the gentle warmth that Steve stares into him. Like he sees Eddie’s question, and loves Eddie enough that he won’t dismiss it.

“One more,” Steve instructs confidently, just-shy-of-demands.

“Steve—“

“If you hate it we never have to do it again,” Steve counters; a compromise; “promise.”

“That’s not—“ because fucking hell, as if Eddie could ever hate it.

“One more,” Steve reminds him with the patience of a saint and…Eddie’s moving almost without any thought for it at all, like his body runs the way of his heart and moves for Steve be rote, which.

Kinda, yeah.

“Blow,” Steve’s instructing and Eddie’s doing the moving-by-instinct-because-Steve-says thing again; knows he’s blinking owlishly as he purses his lips and does as he’s asked.

Blows. Ever-so-gentle.

“Okay,” Steve assesses and then grins: “okay, that’s it. Perfect.”

Eddie won’t fucking argue. Not least because it’s true.

Though he’s more invested in the perfection looking up at him like this.

“Verdict?”

And okay, Eddie thinks maybe he has words now, at least inside his head: intimacy wasn’t something he’d ever had before Steve, and frankly was never something he was hanging hopes on ever getting, again—before Steve.

But it wasn’t just because he didn’t have other options that Eddie banked on intimacy equalling sex, either. Because once he did have Steve, it just shifted to the idea of sex as a way of showing love. The more of himself he could give to Steve, the more intimate they’d become: the more of him that was Steve’s for the taking, the more of Steve he look reverent into himself, body to body: that was intimate. That was a relationship, how it looked as it grew. First time Steve came inside him. First time Eddie licked him open. First time he fucked Steve’s gorgeous goddamn thighs.

That kind of thing.

But Eddie’s not sure even the heaviest, headiest sex has ever left his heart as much of a thumping, fluttery mess as just this, which doesn’t feel like just anything: Steve. Sitting in front of him. With a bottle he drove out to Indy to get just for Eddie. Because Eddie wanted it. Because Eddie would like it. Because it might make Eddie happy and it did, it really really did, and—

Steve’s just painted his fucking nails the most gorgeous shiny black, only the slightest bit straying off on the skin, too, and it’s somehow hitting Eddie deeper than the first time they fucked, the first time they stretched each other open, the first time they 69’d in the sheets.

This is apparently what knocks Eddie on his ass for just how deep the love goddamn goes.

“That.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, blinking back to the moment where he was busy getting caught up in the new revelation of what intimacy looked like, not to mention caught up in admiring his nails: “what’s ‘that’?”

And Steve’s smiling beatific, incandescent, as he pokes Eddie’s cheek, no, more specifically: as he pokes Eddie’s dimple.

“What I get out of it.”

And Eddie flushes hot under Steve’s touch, then, as it all adds up and seeps in strong enough to shake his core before reshaping him from the inside out as Steve taps the little divot in his skin playfully:

“That.”

Which is how Eddie realizes full on and forever, probably something he already knew, just somewhere under the surface: the intimacy was the sharing of the joy. And in love, especially a love like this one: joy itself is the payoff.

Joy, like everything, is shared by default.

Eddie lifts his eyes, meets Steve’s smile so wide, and relishes the color on his nails as a sign of it for seeing; relishes the dizzy cadence pumping in his chest as proof for the rest of him, to feed and nurture this depth of loving for all the simple things, undimmed and forever until his heart stops doing anything at all. Because there is no pay off, even if there is always something to get out of it. Out of all of it.

Because love is them; together.

Intimately entwined to the goddamn cells.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland

♥️

divider credit here

[nostalgebraist]

I think your post about AI Doom doesn't really acknowledge the fact that, generally speaking, people enjoy being alive for its own sake and prefer it to being dead. Unless I'm misinterpreting, the conclusion of the post is essentially saying that not wanting people to be killed is "out of step with human values" which is obviously not true. Most people do not want to be killed. Killing people is bad. It would not be OK for AI to kill everyone even if it made something else afterwards.

(Pt 2) this all seems extremely obvious to me but I could not come up with an interpretation of that post which isn’t just broadly in favour of people being killed, which seems sort of like. The most evil thing anyone could ever possibly believe. So I am hoping that I misinterpreted

You're not alone, this aspect of yesterday's post was confusing to a lot of people.

FWIW I'm mostly tapped out on discussing the subject matter of that post for the moment, but this does deserves some kind of further explanation, so here goes.

----

First, to address something you didn't mention, but which was broadly confusing:

I am not saying: "when the doomers say AI will kill us all, they don't mean the natural reading of that phrase, they don't mean it will literally kill all the individual humans, they mean some weird other thing instead."

No, they really do just mean it will kill everyone. Sorry that wasn't clear.

----

What I did mean, when I talked about doomers vs. average Joe here, is that the idea of human extinction hits different if you're an anti-deathist transhumanist, versus if you aren't one.

If you're an anti-deathist, what's bad about extinction is, in part, the same thing that's bad about ordinary death. The anti-deathist looks around them and sees, in some sense, a slow-motion and staggered extinction already happening.

Even without extinction, we are all gonna die. Our great-great-great-great-great-grandparents' generation did not die out in an extinction event, but all the same, they are in fact extinct. Dead. 100% fatality rate, for those guys.

Sure, it was spread out over time, and "natural," but -- the anti-deathist argues, quite reasonably -- why should any of that matter to them, the dead ones? Those distinctions don't change any of what it is that's intuitively bad about dying in the first place.

The horror you express at "people being killed"? For the anti-deathist, that horror gets generalized to include the case of people being killed "by death," as it were. By just, dying, of old age or whatever, rather than by the hand of some other creature.

----

Now sure, even for the anti-deathist, there are important ways that extinction is worse than business as usual. Most obviously, extinction not only stops all the lives of people around now, but prevents the lives of any future people from getting created later on. (Plus of course, all else being equal, death sooner is worse than death later.)

If you're not an anti-deathist, though -- and most people aren't -- these special factors that make extinction worse (for the anti-deathist) are in fact your only objections to extinction.

That is not to say that they aren't extremely strong objections. Of course normal people do not want human extinction!

But for the normal person, there is this hard line between "extinction" and "business as usual." For such a person, there is a horror in the former that just isn't there in the latter, even though (as the anti-deathist likes to point out) business as usual still means a 100% fatality rate, on a long enough timeline.

For the anti-deathist, there is not this hard line. Extinction is bad. Getting killed by a person or a machine is bad. Dying of natural causes is bad. And a lot of the badness -- though by no means all of it -- comes from what is shared across all these cases, not what is special to each case alone.

----

OK, now let's talk more directly about your question.

Unless I'm misinterpreting, the conclusion of the post is essentially saying that not wanting people to be killed is "out of step with human values" which is obviously not true.

I mean, yeah, that's obviously not true.

But there are things sort of superficially similar to it that might be true.

And when something is true, but on the surface sounds bizarre and backwards and staggeringly wrong, I often like to play around with the way it sounds -- to just have a bit of fun with the way I can say things that seem so outrageous, and yet might not actually be wrong. Or even really outrageous, when properly understood.

And maybe I get carried with this, sometimes, at the expense of clarity. Sorry about that. (But also, it's my blog, where I write the kind of stuff I like writing. And I do like writing in this way. Them's the breaks.)

Anyway.

If we want to understand ordinary human values, then we need to cope with the "average Joe's" simultaneous belief in the following two things:

I really do not want to die. As a particular case, I really really do not want to die right now, today. But also, come to think of it, dying tomorrow would be super bad too. And you know what, the day after tomorrow? Same deal. And I guess I could go on like this.

I do not, at all, actively want to "live forever." In fact I kind of don't want this. If you directly ask me, I'll say the idea is sort of creepy and weird and bad. Or, even if I don't think that, I don't find the idea motivating at all. It might be acceptable, if it were forced on me, but none of my actions are driven by a desire to make it more likely.

(I am hand-waving away the concept of the afterlife here, which is involved in the typical Joe's actual beliefs in a way that annoyingly complicates the analysis while being tangential to my point. Let's say we're talking about the average atheist/agnostic but non-transhumanist Joe. I think the point can be generalized further, but I'm trying and failing to be brief here, so you'll just have to trust me.)

Now, together, these two beliefs are nearly a paradox.

Maybe they are just a paradox. Maybe you can't, really, think both of these at the same time without, on some level, kidding yourself. This is what the anti-deathist alleges, about the average Joe.

Maybe you agree. If so: congratulations, you're an anti-deathist too. Which is a perfectly valid point of view. Despite all I said in my post, I have quite a lot of sympathy for it, myself.

But the average Joe is really not an anti-deathist. This is just a fact about the world. Average Joe really does think both of the 2 things, at once. Maybe he does so inconsistently, or wrongly. Still, he does.

I think you essentially have two choices here. You can take the road less traveled, fully bite the "death is bad" bullet, and be an anti-deathist. Or, you can do what most do, and be like average Joe.

But if you are doing what average Joe does, and you go on to say things like...

being in favour of people being killed [is the] most evil thing anyone could ever possibly believe

...then you have some explaining to do. You have to spell out what it is this means, if it doesn't just mean full anti-deathism. Which is kinda what it sounds like.

A lot of things "kinda sound like" full anti-deathism. That view is very amenable to being phrased in terms that make it sound utterly obvious.

But we can't let this lull us into thinking that -- because anti-deathism sounds obvious, and average Joe often believes things that sound obvious -- that average Joe believes in anti-deathism. Somehow, despite all that obviousness, he just doesn't.

Somehow, despite all that obviousness, anti-deathism is a fringe position. And if we're not on the fringe, then we have to spell out just what it is that we believe instead.

Now OK, let's be real. You didn't say "being in favour of death" was the evil thing. What you wrote was "people being killed," not "people dying."

And that's what makes the distinction to you, right? I imagine? That it's bad news when some entity actively kills a person, that goes beyond the badness of death per se?

----

That does sound pretty intuitive! But what exactly is it that makes killing worse, here?

I didn't answer that question, in my post. I answered a bunch of other questions, instead. There are still more questions, which no one has asked me, but which I kind of feel I ought to answer, when talking about this topic. Nonetheless, I have to stop myself at some point, or I'll never do anything else. Hence these kinds of glaring lacunae.

I won't answer it here, either, in full. I have some other things to do today, and this is no longer just explicating what I meant earlier, this is new stuff. I'll just make some gestures, now, towards the kind of answer that would make sense of how I treated the topic in my earlier post.

----

So, there are some pretty obvious answers to "why is killing especially bad?"

Say, that it reflects poorly on the killer: an AI that would kill us all is probably an AI that's just plain bad morally.

Or, that we have a norm against it. It's a part of our ethics, the stuff we agree on as part of the social contract.

But you know what we don't have a norm against? If we're average Joe, and not on the fringe?

Killing chickens.

Or torturing chickens, and then killing them. Or breeding lots of them, specifically to be tortured, and then killed.

Sorry for the sudden swerve into vegan talking points! But this is kind of a big deal.

I've heard this cited, multiple times, by doomer types as a motivating case for being worried about how superintelligent AIs might treat us.

Just look at how we treat creatures that can very evidently feel pain -- but just happen to be different from us, not constituted the way we are, and in particular much less smart than we are!

And I, personally, find this argument pretty motivating. This is one of those arguments where even I have to hand it to the doomers.

But once we've allowed this much, we are in danger of conceding some really wild shit, if we don't tread carefully. Maybe we even should concede the wild shit, in the last analysis. Still, we should tread carefully.

Say you take the chicken argument seriously.

You've conceded that human values contain some really fucked-up things about how to treat other, dumber, "more primitive" beings. Beings of the kind that prevailed before the new, "super"-intelligent, sparkly, world-dominating species stepped onto the scene and changed everything.

You've conceded that humans are basically misaligned AIs, of the evil killeveryone Torment Nexus sort.

Remember, that was the whole substance of the argument: to make such awful AIs seem more plausible, by pointing out that such a thing already exists. Namely, us.

But now, what standing do we have to object to the AIs, without it rebounding back on us? Must we oppose ourselves just as fervently as we oppose the evil AIs, for the same reason?

"An AI that kills all humans" sounds pretty bad. Sounds like an evil thing, that we would not want to exist. But by the same token, we're evil, and we shouldn't exist.

(We might have wiped out chickens, if they weren't so tasty. There are plenty of non-tasty things which we did, in fact, wipe out. I and the doomers focus on chickens and the like, here, because what we did them is arguably even worse.)

Would we really accept an AI that's only "aligned with human values," and treats us about as well as we treat other beings when we are placed in an analogous scenario? Or do we hold AI to a higher standard -- one we can't possibly apply to ourselves, for that way lies madness?

Well, I don't know. These are tough questions.

But I would like to leave open some room to imagine, at least, that the advent of humanity was not (or not only) a catastrophe. That it was not, in fact, "the most evil thing possible."

Despite all the evil that we do, I'd like to imagine that.

And I'd like to imagine that, if there is such a thing as "human values," it contains this affirmation of the value of the advent of humanity.

And the value of things like the advent of humanity.

And the golden rule, and the rule of law. Which means, among other things: not holding you to a higher standard than I hold myself.

Even though the apparent implications of this are pretty nasty.

Philosophy is like that. Often you are between a rock and a hard place. Saying "that's a rock, don't you know that rocks cannot be walked through??" in an alarmed tone does not really get at the heart of the dilemma, or point the way to a solution.

----

All else being equal, of course, I would prefer not to be killed.

So would the chickens, I imagine.

We must not pretend there are easy answers, when there aren't.

[hools]

Sorry if this is a weird question, but how do you come up with your drawings? What does through your mind while making them? I find your compositions so gorgeous and intriguing but I can't really figure out how you approach things since everything's very shifty and abstract. It's really gorgeous work, I'm so glad I discovered your art :,)

hey first of all this isnt a weird question at all & i'm really glad you enjoy my art heheheheheehe. there's an incoming large largely unformatted block of text that i hope you dont mind!

Honestly there are a billion things going through my mind at a time while I'm drawing and they all sort of bump into each other and cancel each other out like opposing particles. If you've seen any of my streams i'm usually very fast and iterative in a lot of my process and i rarely ever slow down even past the early parts like thumbnailing and sketching. i kind of let my hands do the talking more, yknow? but even then theyre never talking about a single thing at a time. everything interacts with everything, which is probably why i always end up getting lost and meandering. composition is not independent from color & value and neither are they from texture and perspective. its hard thinking of all of the ways they mesh and react to one another so i spend less of my energy thinking and more of it doing, and then assessing once something interesting comes about it. i guess then i prioritize my Hand Movement Actioning and Eye Vision Seeing over my Brain Neuron Assessing. but even though iterations can come and go quick this kind of informed throwing-against-the-wall isn't really the Fastest. but its fun. and you get to stuff all the unused ideas in your pocket for later.

even though i did say how connected everything is i always seem to start with composition. it kind of affects and informs everything the most at least on an individual piece level. with thumbnails & composition in general i think youre supposed to think huge right. so i Always think huge. push everything as much as you can. start with a crazy angle (not necessarily angle meaning "perspective" but like an angle between two lines) and border your scene within it. take an already steep foreshortening and steepen it further with the transform tool & see what shapes form from the empty & filled space. shrink your subject to only fit 3/4ths of the canvas and build around it to make it work. blow things up (enlargen) and blow things up (remove & obliterate). with composition you have so much room for fuckery if you give yourself the grace to accept the fuckiness.

and i guess this freedom to fuck around and iterate and build and build and build upon comes from how most of the time my initial ideas are very. vague? abstract like you've said. sometimes its Just a song or a song lyric and nothing else (no characters to attach to just the feel and my gut). sometimes its a less than 5 word phrase i felt strongly about throughout the day. in my me-only discord server i have messages in #to-draw channel that just say shit like "something about guitar straps" "thanks for knowing me!" "angel don't look at me" "DITHER QUEEN" (<-been meaning to make something with that). for things that have specific guidelines i spend more time thinking conceptually (the "rare animal" coelacanth drawing being an example) but otherwise it mostly comes out after. again. the first strokes. after you put the meat and bones on the canvas. an artist at a workshop i was at last year when i was in my own head about Needing to have a fleshed tangible Profound concept before being able to start something told me not to underestimate the stories that can be told just by your hands. and i think thats what stuck with me the most.

& one last thing i wanna mention is how despite how much i revel in the chaos of the process ive found how important limits are. i don't like cutting back on everything but i like cutting back on some things. sometimes i cut out backgrounds for solid fills and i love them that much more. sometimes i have little subconscious rules in a piece that i try not to break to keep a little level of consistency. if somethings a big wonderful mess already then i love a limited pallet and i love keeping parts empty and i love being able to breathe a little. yknow. but still go over the top in the other parts you have so much permission to. less is more but have a little more in your art than less. YKNOW?

but yeah thanks again for your kind words and wanting to listen to me talk. i havent been drawing much at all so these arent too fresh on the mind but i think i got a lot of what i wanted to say out. i hope u and others can get things out of this! if i made any sense <3