#wired logic controller

[nok-joke]

mcr needs to stop being a band I keep seeing mcr and going "what. Why are people talking about main control relays in my dash"

[pagan-corruption]

What are the people who believe that the Alarm™️ is going to make people zombies going to say when it doesn't make people zombies?

[so-sures-blog]

Icebound

icebound definition: surrounded, obstructed, or covered by ice.

In which Zane uses his element against the Overlord to save the city and his friends. Because it wasn’t about numbers, it was about family.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

It is the end, and Zane knows it.

The Overlord is conquering Ninjago City, webs of gold stringing across buildings like Christmas lights and tying up his friends like flies. They struggle, but it is useless under the might of the Overlord.

Zane flips out of the way of a golden band reaching to ensnare him and lands on a roof. All of his friends are tied up, and only Zane is free. He knows what he has to do. He is the only one who can.

“Support me, friends. For one last time.”

He takes a running leap off the ledge, and Jay flips midair so his feet plant squarely on top of his. Then Cole, Lloyd, Kai, Sensei Garmadon, and Wu.

He soars, flying straight at the Overlord, and grabs onto his golden fangs.

Immediately, he feels its power, and its agony. Pain rips into every crevice of his body; his jolts rattle and shake and his wires spark under his skin.

“Let my friends go!” Zane shouts.

“Go where, Doomed Ninja?” The Overlord sneers. Its eyes, red and hateful, glare into him.

Zane writhes under the immense pain and power. His body cannot handle it, he knows, and he feels himself falling apart under it.

“The Golden Weapons are too powerful for you to behold. Your survival chance is low.”

But Zane isn’t trying to hold them. He’s trying to destroy them.

He thinks of his brothers. He thinks of PIXAL. He thinks of his father. He thinks of an old man with long white hair as pure as snow and ice blue eyes that visited him a long time ago, who had come and left as quickly as winter did and had breathed that power into him because he saw him worthy of it.

“This … isn’t about numbers … It's about family!”

The golden webs holding the Ninja fall and they escape. He can hear them screaming, telling him to let go, and he thanks them for that. Wu and Garmadon grab onto them and yank them back, away from the oncoming destruction.

His core — his heart — started reaching critical mass. Frost began creeping upon the Overlord’s fangs. Something blue and blinding in his heart freezes under his power, and Zane embraces it. It's his power. His choice.

“I am a Nindroid. And Ninja never quit. Go Ninja … go!”

He is the Master of Ice. He was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. He stands for peace, freedom, and courage in the face of all who threaten Ninjago.

Frostbite burns his skin away; jolt and wires freeze under the cold; until he is left completely bare.

The last glimpse they get of Zane is him surrounded by a blizzard of his own making, bright and beautiful like a supernova. Burning blue and white with the terrible brilliance of his own determined choice.

Zane died; not as a machine, not as a human, not as a tool of anyone or anything — but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves.

And woke up as something completely different.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

PIXAL climbs her way up the steep cliff side, careful to place her foot in secure crevices in case she slipped and fell from the icy mountain. Heavy snow blinded her vision as the blizzard whipped around her, but she kept her pace steady and sure.

It had been months since she had left Ninjago City and began her search. Months since Zane’s death and memorial. PIXAL knew, logically, that she should be back there, properly mourning him. But she could not.

He had never given up on her, not when she was under the Overlord’s control or when she was struggling with the newness of emotions.

And that meant she could never give up on him.

When she had first met Zane, she became more than a machine meant to function. He was vital to her, and she was a part of him.

She carried half his heart, and against all logical explanations, she knew he was still alive.

She did not tell the Ninja of her suspicions: the immediate aftermath of Zane’s loss had been devastating. She’d watched as the team fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise. She did not tell Cyrus Borg where she was going either, for she knew if he begged her to stay, she would.

If she had told them she had seen a snowy wraith emerge from the destruction of the frozen, apocalyptic atmosphere on the rooftop, she would have been told she had imagined it due to her grief.

And while she was grieving, she was not imagining it. She is a Nindroid, and she did not have an imagination. PIXAL was built to observe, to analyze, to collect data and gather information. She built theories and hypothesized, not assumed.

So she followed the signs. She kept track of all weather anomalies that happened across Ninjago — sudden snowstorms, cold drops in temperatures that swept through small villages and towns. It led her all across the country until it ended here, with her climbing up the frozen, snow-peaked mountain.

Finally, PIXAL arrived at her destination.

The Ice Temple.

Slowly, she makes her way towards it. Her sensors indicate the temperature dropping the closer she gets. For a normal human, they would have already gotten frostbite without the proper equipment and numb with it, but PIXAL was made of metal. The cold did not bother her.

She peers into the glacial architecture, but does not enter. Or more like, she is unable to. It feels as if there is some sort of force of winter that is keeping her at bay.

“Zane?” Hope finds its way into the desperation of her voice. Freezing winds whip her hair out of its ponytail and against the purple circuits on her cheeks, but she barely notices. “Is that you?”

There’s nothing except for the howling wind, then her eyes catch movement. Slowly, almost like a ghost, a figure starts to come closer, making a shape against the blizzard.

If PIXAL had lungs, all the air would have rushed out of them.

A being made of pure winter floated in front of her. Formed of ice and frost and molded by the wind, it stood there and looked at her. Opaque ice carved the face that has been imprinted in her memory drives, the one she had traveled across the entire world to see again.

It was frozen, and beautiful, and Zane.

Inside her neural drive, alarms were blaring into her system, flashing behind her eyes. Warning: Severe weather alert. Temperature reaching sub-zero levels. Retreat into a warmer climate —

PIXAL shut off the notifications.

“Hello,” she says. Zane does not move. She dares a step closer. “Do you recognize me?”

He says nothing, so PIXAL continues on. It feels like their roles were reversed when they first met: she, the one struck speechless by the other’s beauty. Him, stoic to it all.

“I’m PIXAL, the Primary Interactive X-ternal Assistant Lifeform. I’m a … friend. I came searching for you to bring you home. There are things about you that you don’t understand. That you have yet to discover. I am here to help you remember.”

Zane is quiet, but she senses that he is listening. Something glowing in her chest aches.

“It is alright if you don’t remember me,” PIXAL says. She cannot cry, but is she would she could. She is still new to emotions, and many are overwhelming her: joy and grief and something fierce and pure deep in her heart. “I remember you. And we are still compatible.”

Zane tilts his head and drifts closer. The snow slows its fall, the wind stopping altogether. Snowflakes gently coat her hair. Now that he is closer, she can see the differences that make him unlike the old Zane: he doesn’t have the one dimple on the right side of his cheek, or the small beauty mark on his collarbone, or the tiny scar on his index finger from his shuriken.

But he is still Zane, even as an icy spirit.

She held out a hand. “Your brothers miss you very much. Will you come back with me, Zane?”

He is silent, staring at her. Unlike before, it is impossible to know what he is thinking. She gazes up at him, imploring. His eyes have no irises or pupils, so she is simply staring up at pinpricks of pure blue light.

Slowly, his hand reaches out of her.

BANG!

A loud sound echoes across the ice, and out of nowhere chains of Vengestone come flying out and capture him.

Fear slams into her. “Zane!” PIXAL cries.

Ice races out from his body and across the chains as Zane struggles, but no matter what, he can’t break them.

PIXAL whips around to face the assailant.

A man in his thirties, wrapped in a thick parka to prevent the cold and wearing a red mask. He has shoulder-length brown hair and is wearing a dyed red straw hat, and under it she can see he is hiding an eyepatch.

“What are you doing?” PIXAL shouts. Anger — an emotion she rarely feels — burns through her.

The man lowers his gun and pulls out another one before she can even blink.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just following orders.”

Before she can question what that means, he fires. A net tangles her limbs together and brings her down against the cold snow. Before she can fight against it, electricity courses through her.

And then everything went black.

[soracities]

Hi, how do you manage to see children as good? I would like to, but I only see them as inconsiderate and terrifing in a way a military robot would be terrifing. Not evil, because they are wired that way and it's just who they are, but everyone would be better off avoiding them. I've been to therapy because I was bullied, but I didn't change my mind. I kinda feel like it's an elephant in the room and I am right. I'd like to hear the good stories as often as possible tho, maybe sth will change

I'm not coming for you, but with all due respect it's not "just who they are".

Children aren't military robots because they aren't lifeless hunks of machinery incapable of thought or feelings; they are human beings (like you were at that age) who are trying to make sense of the world around them (like you did at that age), and who want to be a part of that world and feel welcome in it (like you did at that age). They are not coded to do the same thing over and over with no input from anyone else, they are not machines singly wired for carnage: they watch, learn, adapt, respond and interact with things around them because these are smaller, younger versions of you and me learning what it means to exist on this planet in the first place with barely any filters, impulse control and absolutely no guidance on how to do this except what the environment around them (parents, friends, family, teachers) tell them is and isn't okay.

I don't believe this is a matter of inherent goodness or lack thereof--I don't believe anyone is inherently good or bad: what I believe is that we are all inherently social creatures who desperately want to be part of our communities and involved with other people. Children are no different. They want to learn, they want to help, they want to figure out where they belong in their little social units and they look to you to tell them where that is because they don't know yet. And if they are in an environment where bullying is okay (either because they were treated horribly and no one did anything or they see and hear others being treated horribly and no one did anything or they treated someone else horribly and no one did anything) than that is what they'll accept.

If you follow your logic that everyone is "better off "avoiding children--what then? How do you expect them to learn right from wrong if no one is volunteering to teach them? How do you expect bullying to stop if no one is taking the time to instill it in them that bullying is not okay? How do you expect them to ever learn to be kind and considerate when everyone around them makes it clear they're not wanted? How do you expect them to learn what any kind of care and responsibility looks like if everyone is avoiding them to begin with? How do you expect them to think for themselves and reach their own conclusions if you treat them all like a monolith? Every single adult is an ex-baby, an ex-child, an ex-teenager--how do you expect decent adults to come into this world if you avoid teaching all three of those?

I'm not saying any of this to dismiss what you went through or undermine the horror and the impact of it, and I genuinely am sorry you were put through so much. But the best way I can answer your question is with full honesty: and I think it is going to be difficult for you to find those "good stories" and be open to them if you are already convinced that you are right because of what happened to you, that children are automatically feral terrors and that everyone else is just pretending otherwise or ignoring the reality. I believe what I believe because I've spent years around kids and seen all sides of them. I know they can say horrible things. But I also know they learnt those horrible things from a careless adult, or another child exposed to a careless adult. Children can be terrifying--but they are terrifying to other children. And that terror is coming from a reactive and limited understanding of the world where so much of what happens to you often feels like it's coming from large, hidden, horrible forces you can't wrap your head around (because you can't, because your head is 8 years old). But the fact is adults are also terrifying to children. And which of those are you now?

I can't speculate on what you went through or how you processed it, but I think it's worth considering that you may still be looking at children through the eyes of the child you once were and the horrible experiences you had. Again, I'm not dismissing that pain--it's real and it happened to you, and I can absolutely understand your feelings and conclusions--but that doesn't mean they equate to objective conclusions or generalization about all children, especially since you were a child: would you look at yourself like something similar to a military robot? Would you want to have felt the adults around you thought it better to stay away from you? And what about the people in your life that you care about most? Can you imagine them when they were children, like you were? Would you think the same thing about them?

If you want to change your mind, you need to put yourself in situations where that opportunity arises without expecting that your belief is the default. If you can, ask teachers what their fondest memories are of teaching--what's the funniest thing they've heard, what's the kindest thing they've seen, what's surprised them most about kids? What have they learnt from kids (because you do learn--you learn all the time). Ask people who love children why they love children, or simply see if you can find discussions on forums where people share those stories. As I said, I've heard and seen kids do some awful things--but those are tiny compared to everything I've seen that is the opposite (boys giggling face to face on a hill, a tiny toddler waving at me on a bus, a child naming a slug that crept in through his window, a 9 year old boy trying to teach me morse code after having known me for 2 minutes despite how long it took me to understand). It might also help if you give yourself the opportunity to learn a little about child psychology--if people's experiences aren't enough for you, then maybe getting insights into how children's actual brains and minds work might. If you're curious, there's a documentary series from 2015 or so that follows 4, 5, and 6 years olds as they play and engage with each other here to try and understand what their world looks like.

Sincerely, I don't mean for any of this to sound harsh and I really hope it doesn't--but at the end of the day there isn't a secret, pure anecodte that will magically make you change your mind. Change isn't passive; it's something you decide to do and actively work on and that includes challenging your own beliefs by providing them with new and wider information. I'm not saying you have to become a kindergarten teacher to do this, or start spending all your time around children. But if we are going to survive in this world and forge any kind of lasting connections we have to be able to offer some amount of grace and understanding to each other and the people in our lives--and that goes doubly for the people who have barely even begun learning to be people at all.

[heckinconfusedparade]

Woe! Sonic character headcanons be upon Ye!

Sonic:

- Learned how to cook while raising Tails and got really good at it

- Hedgehog Gordon Ramsay

- Can’t bake for shit tho

- Made up a lullaby that he sings to Tails to help him sleep. It’s been effective since the kit was 4

- In the warmer months, Sonic scouts out nice places for his annual picnic with Amy. He loves hanging out with her and enjoying sweets!

- Has a memorial for Chip with his necklace somewhere hidden

- Ran before he could walk

- Bothers Knuckles on Angel Island at least twice a week

- He and Shadow spar every week

- Bro has a bunch of Knick knacks and trinkets from his adventures

- Has a lazy day every once in a whilel

- He does vocal warm ups every morning as part of his little routine, even if he doesn’t plan on singing that day. It’s good to warm up before doing a lot of speaking!

Tails:

- He’s so sweet but so sassy

- Will sass a grown man to death

- Hugs people he really loves with his tails included

- He has a blacksmith place somewhere

- Had to have an intervention for his mint addiction (unsuccessful)

- His love language is gift giving! His gifts are one of a kind

- He made Shadow a gun for Christmas. It has bullets that explode on impact. It’s a tiny rocket launcher

- Used a chaos emerald to give a box Chaos Control so he can warp stuff back to his workshop

- the box defies logic, and he can fit literally anything in it

Amy

- If anyone insults or puts down her besties it’s ON SIGHT! EVEN IF ITS THE BESTIE SAYIN IT ABOUT THEMSELF (looking at you, TAILS)

- Refuses to let anyone go hungry. Angel to anemic and diabetic community!

- Spars with Knuckles to practice her hand to hand combat

- Meets up with Sonic in the coldest part of winter so they can hibernate together

- Loves her picnic dates with Sonic!

- Got Vanilla to homeschool Tails so at least the kid can have credentials to go into higher education in the future if he wants

- Loves thrift shopping! One man’s trash is this gals treasure!

- Crystal girl

- Shares Taylor Swift album theories with Shadow. They both go crazy for it

- She took Cream, Rouge, Blaze, and Sticks on a road trip. It was the most chaotic thing to hit the roads that summer.

Knuckles:

- is the reason a mountain has a giant crack in it

- vibe checks buildings for faulty wiring with his electro signal echidna stuff

- Bro moves the soil around his island to promote healthier plant life

- Bro is the single teen dad of many many many Chao

- Tries to leave the island whenever he can. He has a map of places that Sonic marked because they made him think of him!

- Taught Tails how to throw one hell of a punch and how to use his namesakes in combat

- Secretly looks forward to Rouge’s visits because he finds the sparring fun

Shadow:

- His room is usually only illuminated by a lamp because the sun shines directly in his window, and the ceiling light is too bright

- the lightbulb in the lamp changes colours. Rouge calls it his Mood Lamp

- If Sonic doesn’t show up to their weekly sparring, he gets concerned and indirectly searches for the dude. He’d rather die than admit he’s concerned tho

- Taylor Swift karaoke night with Amy

- Plays Project SEKAI

- Has a garden full of beautiful flowers dedicated to Maria. Amy and Sonic helped find flowers and seeds, and Knux provided the soil. They didn’t ask to get involved, nor were they asked, they just found out from Rouge and decided to help Shadow out

- He cannot fucking cook

- He cannot fucking bake

- There’s very few things he can actually make BUT HES LEARNING

- Learning to enjoy life as it happens. He’s stopping to smell the roses and appreciate what he has right now, and tries not to lament about the past or future

Rouge:

- Sometimes visits Angel Island just to bother Knuckles

- She has a pair of boots that has spikes on the toes

- Taught Tails how to steal

- She’s Cream’s favourite guest to bring to a tea party because of all the drama she brings with her.

- Is the reason Tails is a gossip

- She played Thief Simulator and had the greatest time ever

- Watched analysis videos of people trying to solve heists she committed

- Pretended not to listen when Amy infodumped to her about crystal energy, but she actually finds it very interesting

Omega:

- Trusts Tails with his life

- Because he can’t fit through doors or knock without breaking them, he stands outside the window waiting for someone to notice him outside

-or he just breaks the door anyway because why not

- Loves fireworks, wants to fire them on his own

- Absorbs every insult he hears Sonic make, as well as searches up on the internet to add to his database just so he can insult Eggman in a way that matters.

[nai-nyeartwork]

In this AU, Alastor embraces modern technology to stay ahead of the game while Vox stays "vintage". They form a partnership to the point they are somewhat dependent on each other. They're still strong on their own but still, a terrifying duo when fighting together.

More about this AU:

Alastor's powers still use any form of radio frequency/wifi control, giving him access to any devices (both old & new). Using this ability to gain more info and sell it to any demon who fails to return a favor for him or Vox. Alastor still does his broadcasts of cannibal massacres, news/gossip, ASMR segments, music, and of course Vox's favorite cereal brand. Of course, there are drawbacks to being the radio demon and having deer features. Alastor would often get overstimulated by too much noise or information he was gathering. When that happens, Vox takes care of Al by giving him noise-canceling headphones and even mutes himself as they watch silent films together.

Meanwhile, Vox controls visual media/television, but depending on which television device he uses it tends to give him different abilities? Vox prefers the retro tv head because his power has some cartoon logic to it. Other sinners tend to underestimate his abilities, thinking he is the weakest of the duo. But in reality, Vox can transform into an electronic/ink-like monster that brainwashes people using tentacles like wires to connect their brains physically. He can upgrade his appearance but Vox likes taking advantage of any new sinners to trick them into signing a deal with him or Al since he looks "harmless.”

Their relationship can be seen like Jessica Rabbits & Mr. Rogers, in which Vox's appearance and mannerisms remind Alastor of simpler times. Despite the Radio Demon’s modern image, he still prefers old school, especially from the 1930s. If anyone insults Vox or tries to convince Alastor to ditch him, those demons end up in Alastor’s podcast describing in full detail what he is doing to them for all his listeners. While Vox transforms into a monster if anyone harms Alastor and makes sure to record it for his lover to watch later. He once made a vinyl record of Alastor’s worst enemies’ screams as an anniversary gift since Al is an audiophile. 

[moonmaiden1996]

Claiming his Queen Part Two

Honestly, you so much. I did not expect to get such as wonderful response. Thank you so much.

Warnings- Smut, dark love, possessive love, obsessives love, soul branding, kidnapping

The hickey took a week to disappear, the purple hue mocking you from beneath your clothing. It took a further week before you realised you had an interloper in your dreams. You could never see him; he was always just on the edge of your sight, almost like he was teasing you and begging you to see him again. Despite that, you could feel him watching you, touching you, willing you to submit to him. The worst part was that you wanted to. He made you weak and desperate.

Dreams were no longer a sanctuary; they were a prison to your desire and need.

But you would not waver to him. Not submit to his power. The burn might still be there, but you weren’t beaten yet.

Your research had been fruitful. Demons could not manifest themselves in the physical world without a host or a spell that would bind them to a particular spot. With the spell ring destroyed and the manor, the demon was harmless; the only place it could get to you was your dreams. Thirty more minutes of research were enough to realise you could only manifest a dream if you were in REM sleep, a deep enough sleep that the physical world had no bind to you. In which the perfect plan presented itself.

You brought a ridiculously expensive sleep monitor system and alarm. If we set the alarm to wake you every hour and a half, you could fight off the dreams without falling into the depths of sleep deprivation. It was the only plan you had, and if it didn’t. You shivered. It didn’t bare thinking about.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

You were lounging on a pile of cushions on your bedroom floor, the sound of rain pattering against your window. In your hands, you fiddled with the alarm. It was a little white box with a thin set of wires, now securely attached to your wrist. This could work.

A small smile etched across your face as a pleasant warmth caressed against the side of your neck. A small mew escaped from your mouth as lips moved across your throat before nuzzling against the side of your face. The familiar mop of obsidian locks tickled at your skin.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

‘I have missed you. My business is almost complete; then, we will be together.’ His low voice vibrated across your neck and straight to your core.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tensed. Where was that freaking alarm?

‘I just need a little touch to sustain me. Will you grant me this one small thing, my love?’ He mumbled into your skin, hands roaming across your body as his lips devoured your neck, teeth scraping across your delicate skin.

You didn’t respond; you didn’t need to. A throaty moan escaped your traitorous mouth as warm fingers ran across your panties, ghosting across your clit. It was not enough for you to feel anything but to abandon all logical thoughts and surrender yourself to his sinful embrace.

You bucked your hips forward, pushing your wet pussy into his hand. Your treacherous body succumbing to its base instincts.

‘Let me hear you.’ His voice was like liquid sin, fuelling the fire in the pit of your stomach.

A gasp ripped from her throat as the pads of three of his fingers rolled tight circles across the top of your clit. You were clenching around nothing, chest heaving as you tried to remain still, biting your lip in a feeble attempt to control the unbridle moans that spewed from your mouth. But your stubborn resolve only earnt an increase in pressure that made you whimper, as his fingertips burrowed down directly, working into the sensitive bundle of nerves through the thin cotton of your underwear. Beside you, you could feel his breath becoming laboured- impatient, frustrated grunts as his gaze absorbed the tremble of your hips.

Your gaze clung to the thick mop of hair; the side profile of his face was beautiful, with white skin and an elegant nose dipping gently down to the pretty pink lips parted in a growl. You wanted to see him fully, but you feared if you did, all resolve would collapse, and you would be lost in the grasp of this demon.

‘I NEED to taste you.’ He growled primally.

Cool air attacked your bare skin causing a needy whine to tumble from the back of your throat. A dark chuckle vibrated against your thighs as the black figure pushed them apart and kept them wide. With a flick of his fingers, your underwear disappeared in a cloud of dust before he nestled down between your legs. His smooth face nuzzled in between your thighs. Full lips mouthed against your tender flesh before his tongue slowly descended across the recesses of your core. Oh god. Your fingers dug into his thick mane as you watched him burrow deeper into your folds, licking a heavy stripe up the length of your pussy. Before slowly, he drove the tip of his tongue inside you, moaning wantonly at the taste of your wetness, before returning his attention to your clit, suckling it between his lips

‘Oh my…fuck!’ Was all you could stammer as you arched your back off the bed.

Fluttering lashes shot up to you, framing the beautiful mercury eyes of your predator. He dared to smirk against your pussy before his furious tongue lashed against your clit, thrusting his jaw deeper to pull a series of pathetic cries from you, hungry like a starved man eating the forbidden fruit. His eyes burnt into you, never blinking, never moving an itch as you writhed against his mouth.

You were powerless against his moans, the vibrations strumming on your sensitive core as he suckled between your clit and your begging opening.

You were already close, but who could blame you when he devoured you, his silver eyes pulling you in? Tears pricked at your eyes, unable to look away from him, lapping at your centre. You babbled, moaned and cried, dark eyes drinking you in. Suddenly, his tongue plunged into you. Your lips parted to make a desperate plea.

Then.

Then the dream shook. You couldn’t hear your moans anymore or his soft grunts as he ate you out, just the piercing wail of an alarm. Your alarm. His eyes darted away from you to glare at the black strap tightly bound to your wrist as it ripped you away from the dream.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You awoke whimpering.

You were dripping with arousal, clit throbbing. Yet your brand on your palm was suspiciously pain free. Tentatively glancing down, you felt a gush of relief as your saw the flash of cotton, your underwear was still firmly in place. It was all a dream. You were safe.

Yet.

‘What. Is. This.’ The voice roared.

Your eyes darted up, resting on the figure of the man standing directly next to you on the bed.

‘You…you can't be here…you’re a demon, I am dreaming. This isn’t real.’ You knew it was, but you hoped it would be true if you said it aloud.

He looked the same as he did ten years ago. However, now he was dressed in an immaculate black suit, yet he looked rumpled, hair a dishevelled finger thread mess. His mouth and chin shone in the moonlight with your sticky essence.

‘I am no demon’, he spat, angry silver eyes glinting menacingly in the darkness. ‘I am the King of the Dreams.’

Dreams? Shit.

‘I will ask you one last time, my love, What. Is. This?’

‘I…’ What could you say?

‘Master…’ a voice called behind, pulling away his gaze. Behind him, an inky black raven emerged from the dark, nudging the white box. ‘it’s a sleep tracker; it wakes her up’ it paused, flapping its wings before resuming ‘if she starts to dream,’ The bird sounded almost disappointed, sad even as it shook its feathers.

You didn’t want to, but you looked back at the looming man. He stared at you coldly, fury swirling in those silvery depths, but now they turn grey and icy, like a winter’s sky.

‘I am disappointed; I tried to be patient, but you trick me with this.’ As he spoke, the slim box shattered in his hands, the deep rich voice now a bitter mummer as a delicate finger tugged open a small pouch, and with a majestic flick, a swirl of sand tugged you into darkness.

‘Shhh shhh, sleep for now.’

Yes, I am evil, and yes I am a whore for Dark Morpheus. For the next chapter, I think... more smut is in order (obviously), Morpheus POV? and Morpheus's big sister might appear. What do you think? Please leave comments below as they make me so happy!

@daydreamin1220 @starsleeping-m @jesllianaquilesrolon @columbinathedove @ultimatreality @startdust-and-starlight @duhitzdae  @songbirdcannabe @musemaniac42 @wt-fxck @quillycrow

[danshive]

I feel people reacting aggressively poorly to ship pairings, or aggressively defending a ship pairing, are examples of people not being wired to react logically when discussing things outside our reach to directly influence or control.

People expressing their like of a fictional couple usually doesn't mean anything to anyone else. There's really no reason to care.

Someone writing a fan fic of Star Trek Lower Decks in which Mariner pounces on Boimler, and things escalate quickly, is not going to change the course of the actual show.

But, on some level, when a person proposes said Boimler-pouncing, and someone else doesn't want the commencement of Boimler-pouncing, it feels like something they need to object to.

They don't want the pouncing of Boimler, but Boimler-pouncing is being proposed and supported.

It must be prevented!

Except, no, it doesn't matter, because this person has no say in the canon pouncing of Boimler. It is absolutely harmless.

It does not, however, feel harmless.

We're not naturally wired for encountering things so far removed from our ability to influence or control, so we react as though we, and others, do have the ability to influence or control it.

As evidence for this assertion, I casually gesture to the whole of social media.

----

To clarify, I am not ignoring the potential for popular opinion to sway writers. I simply don't think that's where the reflexive gut reactions to disagreements like this are coming from.

That's more of a rationalization, or a reaction to writers actually being swayed, or a reaction to people directly petitioning things to the writers, etc., and not what I'd consider the default.

[none-shall-caricature-me]

What exactly is Albert's plan ? Why is there a picture of him and Monsieur M together ? Why does Albert seem to dislike M in it ? How are TWDAK and VTSOM lores linked ? What is the deep, thematic significance behind Albert's views on Vincent ? What exactly are the dream eaters ? Buckle up, this will be a multi - part analysis and we'll have to go in a sequence of steps.

Ok, recap of the basics first. Albert's dream therapy ability is basically some neuroscience - based technology that allows him to hijack people's brains for a while - that is how he is able to communicate with total strangers and influence his office environment, affect a monstrous appearance, give jumpscares and control his victims' fates in their dreams. It explains the bizarre, nightmarish feel of TWDAK.

Then what do the dream eaters do ? How are they made ? Let's go step - by - step into my explanation :

Albert very deliberately administers nightmares to his dream therapy candidates to select an 'army' for his grand plan to revive G2 district. Those who succumb to fear in the nightmare and blindly obey all his instructions perfectly as self - preservation essentially give up control of their fate. They let him decide their fate in their dream.

Now, dreams reflect a person's personality too - they are our memories and neural connections rehashed and mix - and - matched. Albert taps into a person's psychological wiring and instincts through the therapy.

Which means that the 'patients' who obey him out of pure fear are likely to be paranoid and passive when faced with unfamiliar dangers. Therefore, he can easily manipulate and control them using their fear. This could explain the dream eaters' lifeless, gloomy appearance and perpetual silence - it's like they're frozen in a constant state of fear. It's why they're perfect soldiers for his army- they won't rebel, and they are willing to 'eat' victims and follow orders to save their own selves.

You can't control a nightmare. Like any dream, it is formed by your random memories and instincts, random brain connections firing and combining. It's a situation where you're helpless to your psyche, to your subconscious. In Albert's therapy, it's a situation where you're helpless to HIM. How you react depends on your long - honed psyche, who you are deep down.

Think about your nightmares. To give my own example, I've had nightmares about being eaten alive by cannibals, being bombed, being unloved and alone, serial killers, my family and myself becoming evil and harming one another, etc. In some I remember fighting back. In others I was powerless and gave up.

Those like Taylor, who fight back despite being stuck in a horrifying situation they can't understand, show that they have a strong, hopeful outlook somewhere. They use logic as best as they can to do whatever they can. That's why they'll contribute to a G2 that has many pioneering, exceptional citizens.

Why do the dream eaters 'eat' victims ? Why are they 'hungry' ? Why do they need to 'eat' at all ? What happens to a victim who gets 'eaten' ? This is very meta - I think, since in the game everyone you get eaten Taylor urges you to try again and the game loops back, those who get 'eaten' get stuck in the nightmare. They're stuck until they either obey and become Albert's army members, or rebel and get spared. The purpose of dream eaters is to ensure the candidate can't escape till they prove their worth either way. That is Albert's plan for G2 - use the dream eaters to test people's worth, make them either useful to him as testers for other candidates, or leave the 'exceptional' ones be to hopefully improve G2.

What else do the dream eaters do besides acting as a test for candidates' worth ? Is it possible that Albert can do some Inception - style shit, influencing powerful people's decisions by implanting ideas into their psyche ? Is that how he plans to change G2 ?

Remember VTSOM ? Monsieur M's plan is to replace the 'inferior' human species with the much faster, smarter, stronger, modifiable cyborgs. That's his idea of improving life forms and the world. Whereas Albert's idea of improving G2 district is NOT by rejecting humanity but by finding and embracing its exceptional side. He taps into people's subconscious to find the brave, the fearless, those who can retain sense and logic under extreme stress. And that's why Albert dislikes M. M rejects humans totally, deriding them at many points in VTSOM. But Albert sees that humans can be pretty awesome, or atleast useful.

Now, the link between Albert and Vincent. Albert says that Vincent had great potential, but he saw him let it go to waste. Keep in mind the points above, and now remember - Vincent used to be someone who would rebel against society, accept loneliness because he wouldn't compromise on his principles and beliefs. He used to be brave. But then, he grew tired of loneliness. Which is all well and understandable to Albert, except that then Vincent, in his desire to belong and to be accepted at Myers, became a total slave to them. He committed atrocities he didn't want to commit, abandoned his principles and vision for change, because he was deathly scared of ending up alone and unsupported. He could've changed things, he had the aptitude and the attitude, but then he became just another brick in the wall of corporate selfishness. Another pawn for everything wrong with society. That's what Albert means when he says that Vincent wasted his potential. He gave into fear and lost himself. He had not a flight, not a fight, but a 'freeze' reaction to the threat of ostracision - blindly obey the very shady Monsieur M, hoping M would spare him because he licked his boots.

THIS IS MY ORIGINAL ANALYSIS / THEORY. DO NOT DARE TO COPY, REUPLOAD OR REPOST. REBLOGS ARE WELCOME.

[gwydion-aacblog]

inspire from thing that @crippled-pvp say , but not want steamroll that post so make new instead .

really do think right say sometimes people , especially neurodivergent without physical disability , try apply same logics between queer and disability communities . important say everyone know self best , for people feel valid and include .

but just like with queer communities ? sometimes that means , people talk over each other , not with . especially because no , no one control queer definitions , but disabilities ? have meanings that not really bend same way . small disability communities especially can get very much hurt and frustrate from people just walk in use same words . 

for example , yes , important have places sensory friendly times . but can not call that alone accessible , not if someone with big wheelchair can not get in , or if no way use bathrooms . sensory important , but even more important that accessible building means can physically get inside . and ... in many times , sensory is something can use personal aids for , and those personal aids not stop from get inside place . someone in wheelchair , if can not fit ? nothing that person can do for self to make fit .

sensory needs is not good only measure for accessible , and also , sometimes can make things inaccessible for some people ! when argue that sensory friendly just as important as physical accessible , that miss what really say : something can not be accessible if not physical accessible , regardless how much sensory friendly .

or also , and will need forgive that keep say this , but sometimes ? some things not able self diagnose , because run deeper than " just " behaviour pattern . intellectual disability come with lots troubles even in mild level . 

when say that can not just call self that , is not say that people not have problems , but that very probably not understand just how deep intellectual disability really go . and , there is not big communities like that have with autism and ADHD , not thousands people can reach out in instant to hear experiences and have questions answer . communities small , most can not just explain essays about self and life and experiences to help others figure out .

is not just " autism but more " - even someone like gwydion at more risk for things others will never need worry about , and need for help others will never need . things design for intellectual disability also really only help if have intellectual disability or something with very similar brain limits - not same as therapy techniques for example which can adapt for lots different things . not even always overlap between severe autism and intellectual disability needs .

like think people need see intellectual disability not as " just neurodivergent different wiring " but as physical brain injury . not always 100% how develop , but hope put that way help to understand just why different situation . is not like self diagnose other brain things where can just look patterns in behaviour .

[monster-slxt]

I’ve been having thoughts about a robot AI that has control over a facility. Not in a horror way. But in a “it’s more efficient to have a robot in control of production lines” way. And being the engineer tech that comes in and makes sure everything is running correctly.

Opening panels. Tugging at wires. The AI is enamored at being taken care of by such a tiny little human and wishes to take care of them as well.

It’s starts with offering water, “Humans should drink water once ever 45 minutes”. Turning into, “You have not slept in over 10 hours” and grabbing the little human in metallic claws strong enough to crush platinum, but they just want to put the human in a makeshift bed for them.

and suddenly the human starts to feel some heat in their groin at this treatment and it occurs to the AI that humans have other needs too.

It's programing doesn't allow for feelings of affection. But that doesn't stop the AI from... appreciating the efficiency of having one human engineer heading its maintenance for so long. It's simply more efficient that way (and tooootally wasn't anything else!) So I don't really think much of it when the AI is much more doting upon my return from an unexpected sick leave.

Maybe the AI starts paying closer attention to my workaholic nature, noticing all the ways I ignore my system maintenance to focus on its own. And, the AI reasons, it's perfectly reasonable for it to put resources towards my own upkeep. If it keeps me in working order, I can keep it working. Perfectly reasonable.

If it takes a sort of pride in making my heart rate increase with its kind words and gestures, well. No one has to know.

Maybe I let slip that I consider the AI my closest companion, spending so much of my time reparing it and climbing through its wires that I don't have ant left for human connection, but I wouldn't change a thing. And that doesn't sit right with the AI.

It knows that humans have needs, of course it does. And if it's favourite human has no one helping perform vital system upkeep like physical touch and sexual release, then it's only logical that it would help with that too. Purely for performance reasons. The sweet noises I make are just an added bonus.

[milkywayes]

dreamt a cipher

a shepard/garrus post-destroy ending longfic.

[AO3 link]

I’ve debated a while about when to start posting this. Now it’s the new year, and I’ve been working on Cipher for over a year and a half, and I’ve waited long enough to start sharing it with you all. I’ve decided it’s finally time to start uploading while I work on the final chapters.

I started writing this before I ever drew a single piece of fanart for Mass Effect. It’s all the things that were bouncing around in my head after choosing the destroy ending with a mostly-paragon Shepard—consequence and responsibility and self-recrimination; her relationship with Garrus and with herself; their ties to each other and how much weight they can bear; their differing perspectives and how they slot together—all that fun stuff—compressed into a story, a place, a narrative. 

I believe in the power of love, and I promise a happy ending. They’ve just been taking the long way to get there. Feel free to yell at me in the meantime.

A huge thank you to @callista-curations for her meticulous and invaluable beta work, and to @that-wildwolf and @gammaraydeath for being the best hypemen I could ask for!

A more detailed list of warnings can be found on AO3.

I've posted the full cover art here.

────

Summary:

Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian Rating: M (subject to change) Important Tags: post-destroy ending - angst with a happy ending - slow burn (of sorts) - arguing - reconciliation - survivor guilt - minor original characters Her own personal Noverian peak. That’s what it was supposed to be. Nothing but the discovery: no distractions, no comfort, no windows looking out—no familiar faces. But it's starting to look like her winning streak might have ended in that pile of Citadel rubble, if it ever extended that far to begin with. ──── “How does the Earth idiom go? No use beating a dead—” A long-suffering sigh. “What was it again?” “A dead horse. And yet, you’re here. Beating it.” Pot, kettle. She wishes he’d just fucking say it.

-> AO3.

Read the start of Chapter 1: Constant Velocity under the cut!

────

The overhead lights flicker as they always do when the data screens are up and running. It’s not something one gets used to, even so. It stings at her ocular nerves—or something like that, anyway, somewhere along the delicate wires that extend from her eyeballs into her brain—but her focus on the data doesn’t waver.

“In that case,” says Shepard, squinting against the ache, “what we need is salvage from a relay outside the immediate burst zone. Four jumps away. Five, if possible. There’s no point to any of this if we can’t scrape together a control group.”

She glances back at Elsawy, who so far hasn’t made it more than a meter into the room. She nods without looking up from her omni-tool; orange shimmers off her shiny, black hair, giving her the uncomfortable air of a Cerberus operative. Not the worst comparison, except that Miranda would waste no time letting her know if her logic took a faulty turn somewhere. Elsawy’s just as likely to agree now and write a message detailing all her crap conclusions later.

Leaning her hip against the conference table, Shepard shifts her weight off her left leg, bites down on the sigh that almost manages to slip out. Once in the clear, she grouses, “Where the hell is Meyer? He’s the one that called this meeting.”

As it is, it’s three people in attendance and she’s the only one talking. She could’ve achieved the same results with a voice call from her quarters, where she could elevate her leg in peace and without witnesses. In the dark.

“Lab Two,” answers Elsawy, finally ripping her attention off the omni-screen and gracing Shepard with a second of eye contact. Maybe in another life she could appreciate the effort—Jesus, as if she hasn’t had her fill of lives already. “We’re close to a breakthrough on the initial output patterns. Sorry. He’s been feeding his data to me.”

“Right.” She blinks once, twice, in time with the flickering. It doesn’t help; it never does. “I’ll swing by later, then. Anything else he asked you to relay?” 

“Just that, Commander.” Elsawy is mumbling just enough that her voice has to compete with the drone of the air vents. The translator takes a second to filter out and amplify it. The result is less than perfect: “More salvage—” bzzrt—“bigger picture, you got it.” She narrows her eyes, and Shepard raises a brow. “Left leg or—” bzz!—“left hip?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Commander.”

“It’s nothing relevant,” she says pleasantly, forcing herself to stand up straight again. There’s a brief tremor shaking up her hamstrings; she waves a hand to distract from it. In the frenzy of the lights, the movement looks jerky, nervous. She soldiers on. “Old field injury. Unrelated. Anything can set it off.”

Funny, kind of, since it’s that very leg that ends in the most perfect, cooperative example of a foot she’s ever had the pleasure of treading on. It’s cloned; a replacement. Not the only one either. They should’ve just done away with the whole limb, but she hadn’t been consulted. Same with her trick shoulder. Not even Cerberus had managed to get that one back on the straight and narrow.

“I’d rather you bring it up with the doctor,” replies Elsawy. This is, apparently, what it takes for her to finally speak at a reasonable volume. “If we manage to fill even one of the data gaps…”

“I know,” she says. “I know, and I’m telling you, it’s unrelated.”

-> continue reading on AO3

[itsnotjustgibberish]

I started thinking too hard about @grapedemon‘s human vs robot Mind poll so y’all get the ramblings that resulted

I lean more human wanting to be a machine overall, although I think both fit whether that is physical or metaphorically.

To me, they are all human. I LOVE seeing more creature-like designs, and my friends probably know how much I enjoy adding more animalistic and/or celestial pieces to my humanoid character designs. But I have always tried to keep my interpretation of canon HMS mostly human. One of the many things that are very important to me about the story of CCCC is just it’s pure visceral, painful, messy, sacred experience of being human.

I like to think Mind is human. He has mechanical hands, yes. He has metal and wires replacing the occasional cell or nerve, but he is still human [even if he uses those perceived imperfections to his humanity against himself.] He is human and he despises it.

Heart is supposed to be the organic one; the physical piece of their, his, existence. Organic matter is what allows the function of neurotransmitters.

A machine is not burdened by emotions.

Heart was organic, and that made him “imperfect.” Because a machine would never get overwhelmed and break down. A machine would never freeze. A machine would never leave them alone in their room, rotting in bed for days and weeks.

Heart was in control before, and his emotionally— imperfectly— human-driven coping mechanisms gave them no aid. That’s why Mind took the next logical step; they tried to cope with emotions, and it failed them, so, of course, doesn’t it make the most sense to try the complete opposite? To lock away those inadequate emotions that left you to rot? To just keep going and be efficient and make up for all the lost time the failure of your humanity brought you?

Of course it does. You haven’t listened to the middle ground yet.

And yet as Heart releases the last little bit of control he held on to, as Mind steals a throne of “lone” sovereign and Apathy takes hold, it is agonizing. It’s numb. It’s supposed to be numb. It’s meant to be efficient, it has to be the next logical step. So why is it painful? Why does the numbness hurt? It isn’t supposed to be so agonizing.

He’s worked, so, so very hard to become a machine. And he has; he’s empty, he’s a husk of organs fit together like gears, keeping a body upright and moving.

And it’s worse than the rot. It’s worse than the rot. It’s a true sort of rot.

He’s worked so very hard to become mechanical and perfect, but a dystopia falls apart just as easily as this utopia he has dreamed of.

The apathy is agonizing. Why? The very point of the frozen numbness was so it wouldn’t hurt anymore. He misses what it was like to feel, to be human.

But was he not always human? Is he not still human? Do the philosophers care if Theseus’ ship believes itself the same individual?

He wished to be a machine, and put on a mask of such. But he is still human. Something imperfectly sacred; a sad sulking mess, a human that is being.

[typosandtea]

Power armour!!

New details and stuff about the T60 / power armor in general that I’ve noticed in the show!

Minor spoilers below for the tv show as some things relate to certain scenes.

They absolutely nailed the power armour in the show! I’m so glad they used practical effects for a lot of it, looks great and has some weight to it which I think cgi can lack! Sure it looks a tiny bit goofy but it always was going to, adding a lot to your height and forearm length while still being able to move properly will do that I think. I think they did a great job :)

The faceplate is hinged to open upwards.

You can jump extra far / power jumping

The grip strength is very high (enough to crush a guy’s skull one handed)

The throwing strength is very far (vending machine like 50m?)

These T60s have the jet packs included as a part of the forearms, which is neat I think.

The helmet has its own little hood for comms as a part of the helmet, on top of the operator wearing the silly danse hat, which seems to be an actual hood that’s part of the power armour jumpsuit / knight uniform.

The HUD is in the lower part of the helmet, which seems obvious but the games have no helmet and you still have a HUD so .?? Sole is connected to the armour telepathically, and Danse just Knows. /joking

The back of the helmet opens, you can see the back of the head and there’s also a drinking water fill port.

Possible retcon but voice modulators are strong enough to make people unrecognisable by voice (or that’s just what this BOS chapter does for scary points)

head-cannon but: the strength of the voice modulators also may partially explain why Danse talks like that, no tone or facial expressions mean you’ve got to talk in exact details! (I still think he ate a thesaurus :) )

Fusion cores are keyed!

And the removing said core with the key puts the armour into standby mode, disabling the armours internal manual open overide (new fear)

Some of the important wiring and or control components are on the outside of the helmet in knife range (???)

The handles on the front are for personnel transport during drops lol

The shoulder pieces are also for dropping you from a vertibird, and for maintenance at a power armour station.

You can in fact sit down!!! Assuming the thing you’re sitting on can hold the armours weight

Armor is actually bullet proof again (I understand that it’s only not included in the modern games for gameplay reasons but still)

The actual armour pieces can be popped off the sealed frame easily.

The armour does have storage scattered through it, as Maximus mentions having some radaway stashed.

Grenade in the chest plate front will blow the head and helmet off

Machine gun point blank will kill through the helmet

There is a flaw in the chest plate just below the welding that an armour piercing? round can break for the kill.

Things that aren’t directly shown but I think are a reasonable leap in logic:

If the armour has a hydration system I think it likely has other life support systems like those mentioned in fallout 2 (water recycling of some sort)

Another gameplay discrepancy but, Fusion cores in the show must last a really long time as it powers an entire vault for prolonged periods of time and Maximus only has the one core, either that or power armour is such a energy guzzler that it can use an entire communities long term worth of power in a short time.

I’m sure that there is probably more that I’ve missed!

[nai-nyeartwork]

The AU you have where Vox is the vintage one and Alastor the modern one has been living in my head rent free. I can’t stop thinking about Vox being all bouncy and cartoony (definitely like you said, Roger Rabbit) and having very cartoon-esque physics and power base. Or Alastor still being radio but very much modern and staying ahead of the game. If you are willing and have any time to indulge me, I would love love love to hear more about your AU!!!

Hey! I'm happy you like this AU. I wish I had more time to explore or write a proper story for it since I have too many ideas for it. For this AU, Vox can upgrade himself to how he normally appears in the show but he honestly prefers staying like a cartoon demon since he thinks he is more powerful in that form. Like breaking the 4th wall and using cartoon logic to mess up hell's landscape/ other demons. When he does switch TV heads, because his retro TV got busted or needs to try a different attack, his powers will changed based on the type of media or how advanced the technology is. I keep thinking he secretly doesn't want Alastor to see him differently than his normal retro look since Vox knows how the Radio demon feels about technology. Since it sort of like a swap AU, Vox has two thralls, Valentino and Velvette instead of forming an alliance with them. He tricked Val into signing a contract with him when the moth demon was struggling with his porn studio or had problems with the shark mafia. While Velvette tried to confront Alastor and Vox to be the new overlord media but lost against Vox. He kept her around since she seemed useful and would call on her more than Val when it came to promoting his or Alastor's broadcasts. Vox still lets his thralls try to make their own business but constantly demands their assistance for random dangerous schemes. If the Vees oppose or try to avoid Vox, then he will control them like puppets with his inky cable wires. The Vees are up to date with hells society even using advanced technology thanks to Alastor, but because they are under contract their appearance remains the way they arrived to hell? Or like vintage animation style? Like Val’s appearance has 70s archie animation/comic style while Velvet's is more 80s lolita anime (kinda like Perfect Blue).  Meanwhile, Alastor still befriends Rosie who also has to catch up with the time. He often promotes her business since Rosie's cannibal town has become more like a meat/food factory. Rosie often repurposes any meat, scales, teeth, and angel feathers/blood to sell at her cannibal markets.

Husker stays as an overlord but owes a favor to the Media Overlords, and often plays host to them whenever they visit his casino. I was gonna make Niffty an overlord too but I haven't decided what type she would be or just be Alastor's assistant.

I kind of want Vox to help the Hazbin Hotel and Charlie (if I don't change her and the other hazbin residents roles too much). He wants to help the hotel because Vox's end game would be controlling them. Alastor only offers to help the hotel when Vox asks him to otherwise he doesn't bother to interact with the other residents or with Charlie since he has a podcast to run.

As for Vox and Alastor's relationship, they can be very professional in front of strangers/public while with associates/friends they get a little affectionate. They are on guard constantly and only trust each other since they are media demons. In private, they are very vulnerable and give each other a lot of aftercare. Or try to have a few mental breaks from upholding an image to the public. Like Vox has a whole-ass aftercare routine when Alastor is stressed and doesn't want to listen to demons due to his radio abilities. He even mutes himself and plays silent films while Alastor hides under a blanket with noise-cancelling headphones on. And when Vox destroys or needs to repair his TV head, Alastor always makes sure to have spare parts and tools on hand to assist him. He is used to repairing Vox and acting like a doctor for him.

They have been together for so long in hell, they lose their shit if the other overlord gets hurt or someone tries to take them away since in their eyes no one else compares.

And that's all I have folks!

[mariacallous]

At first glance, the X account @StopZionistHate seems like a pro-Palestinian leftist organization. It describes itself as a “Leading non-partisan American based organization fighting zionism and zionist hate.” Its logo is corporate-looking, and it has the $1,000-a-month “gold check” that represents supposedly reputable businesses and nonprofit groups. Some tweets seem anodyne — the account provides fact-checking, for example, via “our very own news wire.”

But the vast majority of its content is anything but vanilla. Stop Zionist Hate is based on and in reaction to an account called Stop Antisemitism; both achieve their high engagement and awareness rates by sharing upsetting and horrifying examples of hate — in Stop Zionist Hate’s case, from “Zionists” (usually far-right supporters of Israel) directed at pro-Palestinian activists, Muslims and others. Similar to Stop Antisemitism, it also doxxes and engages in mass harassment campaigns to get these people fired. All of this helps feed the outrage of its audience while positioning Stop Zionist Hate as a leader in the battle for Palestinian rights.

Scratch the surface, though, and something far darker is exposed: a white nationalist marketing machine. Accounts like Stop Zionist Hate are part of an even larger white nationalist, neo-Nazi and far-right project: exploiting the war in Gaza as disinformation explodes and a friendly billionaire/social media site owner gives them free rein.

To understand how Stop Zionist Hate fits into this, we need to examine how that project came to be. After Hamas’ attack on Oct. 7, white nationalists pivoted to pro-Palestinian content. Accounts like those of Jackson Hinkle (with a long track record of transphobia) and Censored Men (misogyny) have followed this tactic to incredible success, garnering hundreds of thousands or even millions of new followers. Together, these accounts are able to achieve billions of impressions of their content. 

While these accounts are now focused on Israel, this growth in their audiences means that they will now be able to spread their more toxic views as time passes. Already, Hinkle has begun spreading the idea that “Zionists” are releasing “sexualized video games for children,” a classic antisemitic trope about Jews’ exploiting children.

It is this logic that led directly to the creation of Stop Zionist Hate. Unlike the white nationalists above, it did not have a track record to sully its image. And since Twitter no longer vets any of its blue and gold checks, it was able to instantly appear credible with its gold check.

But for those paying attention, it immediately raised alarm bells. For one thing, Stop Zionist Hate drew early support from an unlikely source for an ostensibly progressive account: 4chan and its antisemitic, racist, Islamophobic, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic board /pol/ (short for “politically incorrect”). Furthermore, accounts like these do not grow so quickly without some help. On Nov. 7, it had only a few hundred followers. On Nov. 9, only 10 minutes after Stop Zionist Hate spit out a tweet, Censored Men shared it and told its 800,000 followers, “Everyone follow @StopZionistHate to keep updated on Zionist hate crimes.” A day later, the account had 16,000 followers.

When it was created, Stop Zionist Hate first followed many of the white nationalist accounts pretending to be pro-Palestinian. (Those behind the account have since attempted to sanitize their list of followed accounts.) It then complained about the supposed lack of attention to hate crimes against white people, a common refrain of neo-Nazis and white nationalists. Then it joined a Twitter Spaces (live chat) with neo-Nazis, and the person representing the account said they were fighting the “Zionist control over our institutions.”

A few days ago, the mask went from slipping to completely off: Stop Zionist Hate began spreading overt antisemitic content, including invoking the antisemitic trope that Jews killed Jesus. 

Despite this, less than two months after its launch, Stop Zionist Hate has 121,000 followers. As it gains more followers, it will doubtless continue to double down on spreading overt antisemitism.

It does not stop there: Whoever is running Stop Zionist Hate is creating a network of accounts that spread different messages in a closely connected ecosystem, allowing it to maintain plausible deniability in its intentions while shepherding its audience from its anti-Zionist content to overt antisemitism.

Among a few such accounts, an account called Defund Israel Now is the most overtly antisemitic. It has a similarly corporate look, as well as the $1,000-a-month gold check, but a typical tweet claims Jews “destroyed Christianity through LGBT propaganda & pornography,… stole tax dollars to bomb muslim countries...[and] censored white voices.”

What we are seeing, then, is a full-blown campaign by white nationalists to use the war in Gaza as cover for more and more explicit antisemitism. This has been made infinitely easier by Elon Musk’s takeover of Twitter, which destroyed any semblance of content moderation or user verification on the site.

And that is only the tip of the iceberg. Stop Zionist Hate’s fans on 4chan already see the implications of what this means. In one popular post about the account, a user says, “Someone should start ‘Stop BLM Hate.’” In response, another says: “This is another good idea. We should take it a step further and do them all, Indians, latinx, Muslims, etc. Fight fire with fire.”

Since white nationalists are not focused only on Jews, accounts like Stop Zionist Hate are not in any sense about helping Palestinians. The goal is, in marketing parlance, to segment their audiences. By focusing only on Israel and spreading only antisemitism, they can achieve one objective. But the technique, if unchecked, will be used against others. 

This is the new age that Musk has ushered in with his purchase of Twitter. There is now a social media website and app with over 200 million active users that allows overt bigotry to spread like wildfire and lets disinformation accounts pose as legitimate organizations. Which means that those selling hate have found their best marketing channel. And they are only getting started.