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still-a-morosexual-help · 1 year

Note

okay so lately I have seen a lot of people claim they hate mammon bc he steals from mc, and like there's nothing wrong with disliking a character lol but I don't recall mammon ever stealing from mc?? like the only thing I can think of is that one time in season 1 I think where he was going through their stuff and said he was looking for something to sell (I think?? it's been a while) and beel straight up calling him a liar lmao l'm just wondered if I missed something? or if this is just newer players who maybe misunderstood that one scene? and I figured if anyone would know it would be you lmao

I got so fucking pissed about this (not at you anon <3) cos this is the third time I got an ask like this, that I scrolled all the way down my 'Obey Me Mammon' tag to June/July 2020 and then slowly scrolled my way up pulling all the receipts I could.....I saw this immediately after you sent it and I just finished now...... turns out it takes 5 straight hours to go through my Mammon tag😶

I have answered this exact same ask twice before and I can only assume it's new people? Like honestly you can't play the game for a long time and still think this (they prove this false within the game in LESSON FOUR)

Not only does Mammon NOT steal from MC, he also:

a.) Gets legitimate/legal jobs whenever he wants to buy MC something (which is pretty frequently)

b.) Shares the money with them when he comes into a large sum of money

But anyway here are the links to the posts talking about all this:

(everything is directly taken from canon or based off canon)

A.) No he doesn't steal from MC

• Full Summary of the Lesson 4 locked chapter where he goes through MC's stuff and a compare and contrast of what we know about Mammon from future lessons, events, devilgrams

• First post talking about this, goes more into detail about him not stealing from them

• Second shorter post about how he doesn't steal from them

• They're literally Partners in Crime

• He straight up refuses the Midas touch (multiple times I believe) after realising it means he won't be able to touch MC anymore

• HEADCANON that maybe he steals/borrows their clothes, with their knowledge, to wear

• In the small introductory manga page they say the thing he likes as much as money is MC

• In S3 he admits to loving MC more than he loves money

B.) He goes out of his way to get MC Presents (which we works actual jobs to earn money for)

• Mammon at the Office Devilgram, where he gets an actual office job so he can buy MC a watch he saw them looking at

• In the Movie Date Devilgram he rents out an entire theatre for the two of them because it was the anniversary of the day they first met

• In the You Always Ride Shotgun Devilgram he rents out a pool for the two of them

• He's always giving MC presents

• Usually he buys matching things for them

• He buys them shoes in their favourite colour

• Mammon's love language

• He wants to share his winnings from a lottery with MC

• He finds a secret second map in the pirate au event and tells only MC so they can share the treasure

C.) It's not just MC, he puts the others before Money too

• In the Presents From Mammon Devilgram he buys presents for everyone

• In The Guardian Demon Devilgram he saves a 9yr old orphaned homeless human girl from a mugger, fosters her and plans to pay for all her needs until she's an adult/can provide for herself - which is why he's always in debt to the three witches who look after her for him, there's also extortion going on from them towards him

• He'd rather lose the entire fortune he won than make Luke upset

• List of times he's put others before money

• He straight up tells Luke he doesn't mind missing out on a reward as long as it means Luke is alright

• Socks for Beel

• He gets a stone for his birthday which can give him whatever he wishes for, he wishes for fortune to come to whoever has the stone and then gives the stone to a student who tried to hurt him

D.) How Mammon works as a character

• Solmare makes you form certain expectations about him and then starts breaking them within the next few lessons and it's amazing to witness

• Friendship, Actions & Reality Vs Calling MC 'Servant'

• Mammon, MC and their Friendship

• Mammon being smart and why he comes off as an idiot

• His thoughts about himself vs MC

• He's actively changing and growing as a character and he knows it

• How Mammon actually views himself

• Why there's a difference in his level of affection in public vs privately

• Jerk with a heart of gold trope but better

• Mammon and how much he cares about consent

• How outsiders see Mammon vs how people from the city see Mammon vs how his close friends and family see him

• Chasing some creep away from MC

• How his relationship with MC changes and grows throughout the season

E.) Other reasons to love him

• Examples of how much he loves MC

• How supportive he & MC are of each other

• Some of his funniest moments

• He's objectively terrifying

• Mammon being a good brother

• He's extremely ride or die for MC

• He waits for MC when they've got to stay late at RAD for other work

• Despite being an ancient being all his best memories consist of the time he's spent with MC

• He created a whole line of toys based around missing MC

• Everything he says about loving MC in his 2022 birthday event

• List of things he's good at

• The amount he loves MC

And this is just a few of my posts about mammon, his character and what there's to love about him

And look it's MORE than okay for people to dislike a character but at least dislike them for something that actually happened?

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livelaughlovesubs · 9 days

Note

oooh jjk men with a masc, androgynous gf who wears their clothes bfkwbfkwen

OHHH SOUNDS GREAT but there are so many Jjk men, so I won’t list all of them. Feel free to request for more after the first of June

Jjk x androgyn/ masc leaning reader

Features: gojo, Geto, Choso, Nanami, Toji

So to get this straight, I think most of them wouldn’t mind you stealing their clothes, as long as you do give it back someday. But Gojo? He’s filthy rich anyway, he doesn’t give a damn. Keep them if you want, he can just buy new ones. Heck, he might even start matching the clothes he buys with your style! An indirect way of gifting you new things. If you confronted him about it, he’d just say he changed styles. This is surprisingly considerate of him, isn’t it? Well to be honest, he just likes the thought of you wearing things he brought. Or basically bathing in his property (money). Also if you likes it, he’d definitely support you.

Geto had a short period where he was pretty broke, after he quit his career as a sorcerer. (My headcanon at least) This led to him only borrowing his clothes to you. He’s not being petty or something, cuz he has money now. It has just become a habit. Anyway his closet has many traditional clothes, but also comfortable street wears. Most of it is black though, so if you like other colours too.. Welp. And he wears a lot of baggy pants, so if you are not as tall as him, they might not fit. I think he’d find it quite endearing if you dressed up in the same theme as him, or tried his clothes on like you were shopping for new ones.

Choso only has that one outfit. Don’t take it away from him pls. (Sorry not sorry). But let’s assume he has more or whatever. Literally would not care unless there aren’t any clothes left for him. Then he’d mention it to you, about how if you don’t bring them back he won’t go out anymore. Up until that point though, yea, he wouldn’t mind. That guy’s chill with you stealing them. To be honest he isn’t that knowledgeable about society’s norms for genders. So if you are a woman, dressing very masculine or tomboyish, he’s not think anything about it. The same other way around. Bro’s been locked up for so long, as if he knows anything about ‘how to be a REAL girl’, or ‘how to be an Alpha sigma male’.

Nanami would actually be annoyed at times, cuz he put them away so clean-ly, folding and storing them away with order. Then you just make a mess, take it all out and throw it onto the bed or over a chair after you are done. He wouldn’t mind it too much anymore if you put everything back onto their previous place. But he didn’t gave you permission to use his clothes, did he? (he never told you to stop neither.) In my humble opinion, I imagine he’d teach you how to dress clean, in case you didn’t know. Like tying a tie in ten different ways, or what shoes fits which dress shirt. Otherwise he’s all about ‘do what you want, I literally don’t care as long as you don’t disrupt me’.

Same as Choso, but without plausible excuses, Toji also only has one outfit that he wears everyday. He literally got those 3 dollar flats at a second hand shop or stole them. His only excuse is his wife died, him being homeless and broke are not good reasons. Anyway, if this man did own a few more shirts and pants, he’d say something along the lines of, “take them off, they aren’t yours,” or, “the fuck are you doing???” Though like, if you said no and that you want to keep wearing it, he would grimace but not stress it further. As long as you won’t steal them and keep his clothes for yourself, he needs them too. Sometimes it would remind him of some past memories, and he won’t be able to hold back a soft smile.

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rallamajoop · 2 months

Text

More random details from the depths of RE8

With the excuse of trying some shiny new mods, I've been replaying RE8 lately for the umpteenth time. Given the number of hours I've already poured into this game, you'd really think there'd be nothing left to find by this stage ‒ yet here I am, finding still more details I'd somehow missed the first half-dozen times through.

For one, there's the fact you can actually find Eva's grave in the graveyard outside the church. As the only photo we ever see of her shows her as a baby, I'd assumed she was still a baby when she died, but turns out, she was ten years old.

"Eva, June 1909 ‒ August 1919

May you slumber for only a short while"

As expected, her death of the Spanish flu took place in 1919. There's some semi-legible text on the stone, but it doesn't match the caption ‒ it's just the same generic filler text you'll find on half the gravestone assets in this game.

For another, there's Rose's baby monitor. I'd noticed Ethan turning the thing on when he puts her to bed, and even found the assets for its screen ‒ but since I'd never found the monitor itself, I assumed they must be unused.

Until this playthrough, when suddenly I'm just like, oh, there it is, sitting right on the table. You can even interact with it!

How did I miss this so many times? It is pretty easy to overlook, given you'll trigger the cutscene with Mia if you go much closer to the kitchen, but I'm still surprised I never spotted it before. (And you do have to wonder if there was ever any plan for it to show a glimpse of something more sinister than just a still-image of Rose sleeping.)

In other minor details, there's the bit where Ethan arrives on the outskirts of the village at 8AM. You can hear a clock striking 8 times as you get your first view of area.

Granted, this is not going to excite anyone who hasn't spent as long as I have putting together an hour-by-hour timeline of everything that happens in this game, but I still do love that they give you enough detail that that's even possible ‒ and this new timestamp fits right into that timeline. (And why yes I have just gone back and updated that post, what do you take me for?)

Speaking of assets I thought were unused, you know that hidden room under the castle you can't get into until later, where you have to solve a puzzle that involves setting a moroaica on fire? Have you ever looked closely at the tapestries decorating this place? Because I found them in the game files ages ago, and have been trying to figure out if they're actually in the game ever since.

Because seriously, look at these things!

Yes, that is a indeed a man with a sword and spear, wearing a hoplite helmet and sandals and nothing else. And the women seeing him from the front seem to be having a whole range of reactions to all that, er, weaponry being brandished their way. Isn't fine art wonderful?

Another asset I'd innocently assumed was unused is this wonderful bit of bullshit which was labeled simply 'antibow'. It wasn't until I took a long look at it that I realised what they meant was more like 'anti-B.O.W.', as in Bio-Organic-Weapon.

Yes, that is indeed a knife taped to some kind of grenade. Sure is one high-tech outfit we're working with here!

Only now do I spot that this is actually the bomb Chris chucks at the Megamycete in the cavern. It doesn't even come with the knife already attached, he just kind of sticks the knife onto the bomb and presumably straps some tape around them while the camera cuts away.

I still have so much more to share from my ongoing free-camera adventures, but I think we'll leave this one there for today.

#Resident Evil Village #Rosemary Winters #Ethan Winters #Eva #Mother Miranda #Chris Redfield #RE assets #RE lore #Resident Evil #ununsed assets

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fairy-writes · 11 months

Note

I love your writing so much and I can’t wait to request more :) please could I request dialogue prompt 4 for Akaza from Demon Slayer 💙💙

YOU SET ME FREE

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Demon Slayer

Pairing(s): Akaza x Reader

Prompt: “You set me free. Now I can do the same for you.” (From The Corpse Bride) (Dialogue Prompt #4)

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Human!Reader

Notes: Literally one of my favorite movies omg

Also changing some canon events for this (spoilers for Akaza’s backstory)

TW for:

Abuse (not by Akaza)

Brief descriptions of a panic attack

Injuries (again, not by Akaza)

3.8K OF AKAZA Y’ALL BETTER LIKE IT

This is for my 1K followers event! It’s going on between June 8th and June 22nd!

__________________________________________________________________________

Your wedding day was the worst day of your life.

The day you signed away your freedom and succumbed to a life inside a cage.

Your new husband was a monster in every sense of the word. Not in front of your parents or the public, of course. In their eyes, he was the perfect gentleman.

Kind. (Cruel)

Loving. (Hateful)

Gentle. (Barbaric)

But at home, within the safety of the four walls you were supposed to call a refuge from the outside world, he was a demon.

Not literally. But he might as well have been with the damage he causes to you and the house.

“Can’t you do this any faster? I’m expecting guests.” Comes his harsh, grating voice, and you flinch, looking up at him from where you are scrubbing the floor. Your hands burned from the soap you used, and your knees ached from kneeling for so long. When he glares, you duck your head, hunching your shoulders in an attempt to appear smaller.

“S—sorry. I’ll finish up right now.” You whisper and start scrubbing again.

Only to feel a foot dig itself into your abdomen and physically lift you a few centimeters off the floor as it dug into your ribs. You gasp and hunch over, retching at the feeling, and some bile is all that comes up.

You hadn’t eaten yet that day.

He wouldn’t let you.

Not until the housework was done.

Never until the housework is done.

“Get that cleaned up before the guests arrive.” Your husband sneers and, thankfully, leaves you alone to do just that. You manage to get everything spotless and finish your duties just as there is the sliding of the door and your husband’s cheerful voice welcoming in his guests.

When you are finally called in, you come in to see three children.

There’s a boy with a scar on his forehead and a box on his back. A yellow-haired boy with a matching haori. And a young man wearing a boar head as a mask. They all carry swords on their belts, and you recognize the uniform.

Demon Slayers.

Your husband has a fake smile plastered to his face, and he extends a hand as you come into the sitting area with drinks for your guests.

“My lovely wife!” He says and introduces you by name. You bow politely, praying they can’t smell the scent of bile on your floral kimono, and offer them tea. The yellow-haired boy and the one with the box take some gratefully while the boar-masked boy takes his and immediately gulps it down.

They talk for hours.

The entire time, you stand slightly behind your husband, occasionally bringing in food or more tea for the boys. Every single time you offer more, the one with the box looks at you with such a warm expression that you almost cry.

His hands are calloused and blistered from handling his sword. (Why does such a young boy have such rough hands?)

But he’s so kind. (Why is he so kind to you? You didn’t deserve this kindness.)

And he approaches you late at night, long after he should be in bed, long after everyone else is in bed.

Except for you.

Because you still had dishes to wash and the sitting room to tidy up.

The soft call of your name has you flinching, dropping the plate in hand, and it shatters against the floor. You whirl around, unconsciously clenching your fists to brace yourself.

It’s only the boy, suspiciously missing his box.

You had since learned his name—Kamado Tanjiro. His companions, Agatsuma Zenitsu and Hashibira Inosuke, are most likely still sleeping.

“Ah… Kamado… What can I do for you?” You ask softly, and his face is no longer the warm smile that it had been when in front of your husband.

“Are you okay?” He inquires, ignoring your question, and you pause in picking up the shards of the plate. You could only hope your husband had drunk himself into a deep sleep and hadn’t heard your accident.

Or else there’d be hell to pay.

“I’m fine.” You lie, and suddenly, he puts his hand over your wrist, and you stop—his fingers bunch in the fabric of your violet kimono.

“You smell sad. Like you’re in pain.” He says simply, but you don’t say anything else. Because how could you?

He wouldn’t believe you anyway. (No one ever would. Your husband made sure of that.)

So instead of pouring out your woes to this boy who was much too young, you shrug off his hand and continue to pick up the ceramic shards.

“I can help you!” He tries, honesty pouring from his mouth. As you stand and dispose of the pieces, you stop by the front door.

“Thank you, Kamado… but I’m fine.” You whisper and leave him behind, sad eyes watching after you as you slide the sliding door shut.

You see the demon in the shadows of your garden a week after Tanjiro and his friends leave.

You had thrown the shards of the shattered dish in the outside bin in an attempt to hide it from your husband.

So far, he was none the wiser.

You pause in your late-night gardening. You needed space, and solace in your garden was where you found that peace you so desperately desired.

With powder pink hair and deep navy stripes decorating his face, arms, and torso, he was handsome. But you paused as he stepped out into the moonlight.

UPPER MOON THREE

Upper Moon? Three? What did that mean?

He stops just at the edge of your garden, watching you with those glowing yellow eyes, and not a word is uttered from his lips.

“Did my husband send you? Are you here to kill me?” You ask, and why wouldn’t he be? You wouldn’t put it past your husband to go and make a deal with a demon to have you killed.

Anything to get you out of the way.

Anything so he could be with his mistress.

Because, of course, he had one. He wasn’t exactly keen on hiding that information from you.

The demon scoffed, turning his head away briefly in disgust.

“As if I would make a deal with a mewling human.” He spat, and you recoiled at the ferocious tone in his voice. When you open your eyes again, you find him looking at you with a curious sort of expression. Your voice is wavering when you speak next,

“Then why are you here? To slaughter this village?”

At that, he shakes his head.

“No. I’m here for you. You are the renowned herbalist, aren’t you? The gardener and herbalist?” He says, and you blink. Once upon a time, yes, you had been an herbalist. But then your parents married you off to the monster you called your spouse.

“I’m not sure about renowned. But yes, I’m a gardener and an herbalist.” You say, and he makes a noise.

“Do you know about the Blue Spider Lily?” He asks suddenly, and you frown.

“Of course I do. Any herbalist or doctor worth their salt knows about the flower. What of it?” Suddenly the demon is in front of you.

“Where is it?” He demands, and you bite the inside of your cheek, hiding a flinch.

He notices. (He’s the only one who does.)

Thankfully he doesn’t say anything. (Because, of course, he wouldn’t. Even if someone does, they never say anything.)

“It’s far away from here.” You say curtly, and his lips curl back to show his fangs. He leans into your personal space until your noses brush together.

“Where. Is. It.” He says slowly, and you swallow.

“I—In the mountains. I… I could show you?” You try, and he scoffs, backing away and turning around, his fists clenched tightly. His knuckles would have been white had he not had blue staining them.

“As I said before. I would never make a deal with a human.” He seethed, still not facing you.

It was silent for a beat. Then two.

Then…

“Fine. Show me.” He snaps, and you startle.

He was going to bring you with him?

Would you be able to do it? Leave your husband?

The demon must’ve noticed your expression and narrowed his eyes.

“You won’t do it?” He said, voice low and mildly threatening. You took a wary step back but shook your head.

“Give me until tomorrow night. I will leave with you tomorrow night.” You say, and he stares, silent for a moment before he speaks again.

“Meet me out here at nightfall.” Is all he says before he disappears.

When you meet the demon again, your eye is swollen shut. Your body aches with forming bruises, and you’re pretty sure you’re missing a tooth.

But you can leave.

You’re allowed to leave.

Of course, you don’t tell your husband where you’re going. You just say there’s a family emergency. He can’t even be bothered to come.

If the demon notices—which you’re pretty sure he does, based on the narrowing of his eyes—he doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he turns on his heel and motions for you to follow him. You hoist your bag higher onto your shoulder and follow after him. Only for him to stop at the trailhead and gesture for you to take the lead. You pause before realizing he truly doesn’t know where the Blue Spider Lily is.

So you tie back your kimono sleeves, adjust your sandals, and start walking.

It doesn’t take long for you to abandon all propriety and hike your kimono hem up to climb over branches or stones that lay in your path. Thankfully, the demon doesn’t mention the indecency and instead follows you in silence.

“What is your name?” You ask tentatively after an hour of hiking in silence. The demon grunts as he jumps over a bolder that had taken you a solid fifteen minutes to climb.

“It doesn’t matter.” He says curtly, and you huff in annoyance. He really wasn’t the talkative type, was he?

You introduce yourself nonetheless, politely, formally saying your name into the silence, just like your mother had taught you.

The demon watches you with the same curious expression from the previous night.

And then…

“It’s Akaza.” He says before leaping ahead, leaving you in the dust as you stare in astonishment before you scramble to keep up.

Things change eight days into your little trip.

You’ve hiked over countless mountains at this point, Akaza having set a brutal pace during the night when he can actually move. During the day, you sleep deep in a cave you found (or that Akaza created), using your pack as a pillow. He always rests sitting up, arms crossed, and eyes closed as he meditates. He says nothing about your fading bruises or asks where they came from. Though you have a sneaking suspicion he knows. He seems clever like that.

The two of you don’t speak much. Akaza doesn’t touch you or help you when you’re struggling over the rough terrain. He instead watches from the top of whatever hill you’re climbing with an unimpressed look in his eyes.

Until everything changes.

“Can you go any faster?” Akaza calls down from a boulder that you had been steadily climbing.

“Can’t you do this any faster? I’m expecting guests.”

At that, memories of delicate cheekbones crunching underneath a fist flash behind your eyes, and you slip. Your body goes crashing to the ground, and you curl into a ball on your side, fingers digging into your skull as you let out a pained cry. Your eye throbs, and the gap where your tooth had been aches.

Your entire body hurts, and a rock digs uncomfortably into your side, but you can’t find it in yourself to move.

There’s the sound of crunching gravel as Akaza jumps down to your side. You are briefly showered with dirt, but you don’t care. All you see is your husband’s towering body looming over you.

Unexpectedly gentle hands pry your hands away from your face, and you look up into the face of your husband.

With a scream, you back up, scrambling back on your hands and knees as you try to get away.

Away, away, away.

Those same gentle hands grab your hands as you go to grip your head again, trying to protect your face.

“Calm down.” Comes Akaza’s voice, and you gasp, the vision abruptly fading away.

Akaza is crouched before you, an unreadable expression on his face. His hands cradle yours, keeping them from digging chunks out of your skull. Your breath comes in great heaving gasps, tears starting to streak your face.

You can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t—

His hands cup your face, and he looks you in the eye,

“Calm down.” His voice, strangely calming, washes over you like the tide. And slowly… ever so slowly… you manage to slow your breathing and get lungfuls of air into your chest.

Akaza doesn’t move the entire time.

Once you’re calm enough for his tastes, Akaza stands, scoops you up, and jumps. You, still panicking slightly, shriek as suddenly the ground disappears beneath you. You have your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of it, and squeeze your eyes shut.

You don’t land quickly enough, and Akaza sets you down—much softer than you expected, you might add. You hunch over, taking a shaky breath before straightening up and looking at him. He just watches you,

“Thank you.” You whisper, and he smiles.

“It’s not a problem. Let’s keep going.” He says gently, and you nod, hoisting your bag back onto your shoulders and taking the lead once again.

Twenty minutes later, you finally ask the question that has been burning your mind.

“Where did you learn to do that? Calm me down, I mean.” You say and hear him hum in contemplation behind you.

“I don’t remember.” He says and leaves it at that.

Another three days later, you approach him with a plant from your stash.

He stares, uncomprehending at the leaves in your hands.

“They’re for you.” You say, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I gathered. What are they for?” He asks, and you slowly push them into his hands.

“They help with memory loss.” You say simply, and his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. His hands are hesitant, but as they brush yours, you can tell he’s… excited?

Is he ready to remember?

Are you ready to watch him remember?

Akaza never brought up his memories until one night when you are almost to your destination.

“I remember everything.” He says, dangling his feet over the cliffside as he stares up at the moon. The two of you had stopped for a break at your request and sat overlooking a ravine. When faced with something like this, Akaza would simply scoop you up and leap across. After the sixth time, you sort of grew used to it.

You wouldn’t scream anymore, much to Akaza’s delight.

You sit up straight, nearly dropping the onigiri in your hand in astonishment.

“You do?!” You gasp but pause at his expression.

He looks tired and old and sad.

And he talks.

He tells you what he remembers.

He tells you of Koyuki.

Of his engagement to her.

Of his life as Hakuji.

How the feared king of demons turned him into one.

Everything.

And it breaks your heart.

So you hesitantly, ever so slowly, put your arms around him and pull him close.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You whisper, pressing your mouth to the crown of his head. It isn’t quite a kiss… but it isn’t not a kiss. He stiffens in surprise but doesn’t pull away. Uncertainly, one of his hands comes up to touch your forearm. A silent acknowledgment and thanks for your words.

All the while, he doesn’t say a word.

You finally find the Blue Spider Lily after a month of traveling.

During that time, your relationship with Akaza grew… complicated.

He was incredibly gentle with you, treating you with reverence you didn’t know was capable of someone like him. He even held you once or twice when you woke up screaming.

You could give him nothing in return. He already had supernatural powers. He had immense strength. He had everything a regular man could ever want. Everything your husband ever wanted.

But things go terribly wrong the day before you find it.

You are passing through a large village—through the red light district—when you spot him.

Your husband with a woman on his arm, looking for all the world, like you never existed.

Until your eyes met and rage darkened and contorted his features.

Akaza, disguised with a cloak, puts a hand on your arm as your husband shoves his way through the crowd.

“We need to leave.” He says, but you are frozen.

He was here.

He was going to kill you.

You were going to die.

“You BITCH!” Your husband roars, and a hand cracks across your face, sending you tumbling to the ground. His hands are on your shoulders, bearing his weight down on your body.

Something is glinting in his hand, something sharp, something painful.

It cuts into your face, mutilating it, carving flesh out of it.

You begin to scream, to thrash and writhe, but it’s futile. Your husband had always been larger than you. So you can do nothing but sit there in agony as he permanently scars your face.

And no one does anything. Whispers erupt, but no one moves to stop the mountain of a man.

Until… Abruptly… His head is gone.

Hands are at your shoulders, pulling you into strong arms, as screams cascade from mouths at the sight of a demon.

Akaza.

One moment you’re in the red light district. The next, you’re deep in the mountains.

You are still crying, able to feel the blood coating your face, and the muscle tissue snaps at the corners of your mouth.

Akaza’s hands are feather soft on your face as he takes in your disfigured appearance. His brows are contorted with anger, his face darkened with fury, but he doesn’t shout. He doesn’t scream. He just gathers your bag, rifles through it for herbs and pastes for healing, and applies it to your wounds. He tells you it will scar but that you won’t need stitches. Not that he know’s how to stitch wounds, and you are in no shape to do it yourself.

“We have to keep moving.” You croak as Akaza finishes applying what little gauze you have in your bag. His hands are still, and he has yet to say a word. His shoulders are still stiff with anger, but he can’t take it out on anyone.

Because your husband is dead.

Dead. Were you free?

Could you have freedom?

“You need to heal.” He says shortly, and you shake your head. The pain has died down some, thanks to the herbs numbing the wounds.

“I don’t want to see you hurt on my account because you couldn’t find the Blue Spider Lily. Tonight is the last night of its blooming.” You say, and the two of you argue back and forth—with him wanting you to rest. And you want to make sure he accomplishes his goal.

You win in the end, and Akaza looks away with a frustrated huff.

But he doesn’t leave you behind.

The Blue Spider Lily is stunning.

The moonlight illuminated the royal blue petals, and you are struck by its beauty.

It almost hurt you to pluck it from the ground.

It blossoms over the grave of someone unknown. You can’t read the faded kanji engraved, not really, at least. You swear that it reads “Tsugikuni Uta.”

Akaza approaches the flower, and just as his fingers wrap around the stem…

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” Comes a familiar voice, and you freeze.

Kamado Tanjiro?

Turning around shows you to be correct. The young man has his sword drawn, that box at his back, as he stares in a fury at the demon before him.

The demon in question looks unimpressed. A little angry even. But Akaza doesn’t move from his kneeling position at the grave. He moves to pluck the flower from the ground, and that’s when Tanjiro bolts forward, intending to cut off his head.

Only for you to get in the way, quite literally shoving him by his shoulders and sending him crashing to the ground.

He hits the ground in a roll and comes up on one knee to face you.

His face pales, his sword beginning to tremble. He calls your name and takes in your bandaged appearance, voice thick with disbelief.

“I can’t let you kill him.” You whisper softly, and his angry snarl twists into something sad.

“He’s killed countless people.” He tries, and you shrug,

“He saved my life.” Your tone is muddled through the gauze in your mouth, but it’s vehement and strong, unlike any manner you have had since you married your now-deceased husband.

Akaza stands, the flower in his grasp, as he approaches the young boy. Tanjiro tightens his grip on his sword, though the tip is trembling. You grasp the back of Akaza’s vest just as he raises his free hand, presumably to start a fight.

“You must leave.” You whisper to him, and he pauses in his movements, turning so he can see you out of the corner of your eye.

“Let me kill the brat first.” He says and watches you shake your head.

“Allow me to deal with him.”

Tanjiro darts forward then, swinging his sword with deadly precision.

You get in the way yet again, pushing Akaza out of the way and ducking under Tanjiro’s blow.

Akaza gets to his feet and stares at you with an unreadable expression.

“Why?” He whispers, only loud enough for you to hear. You offer him a watery smile.

“You set me free. Now I can do the same for you.” You reply, and he only stares silently before disappearing from where he stands.

#kny akaza x reader #akaza x you #akaza x y/n #akaza x reader #kny akaza #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer akaza #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba akaza #fairy writes #fairy 1000 followers

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goldielia · 2 months

Text

chicago

a part of: yeah, i like you au

connor didn’t think vienna would show up. it was june and he knew the summers liked to travel europe, especially since noah had moved to germany for his soccer. but here he was, in nashville, wearing his suit that he knew had her name embroidered into the lining right over his heart with the rest of his family. and there she was, stepping into his hotel room wearing a black dress and a red lip and her beloved dark red converse and he still couldn’t really believe she was here.

his nerves feel calmer instantly, like the blackhawks know now that vienna summers is here with connor they’re going to pick him. she still feels the exact same when she steps into his embrace. the way his arms fit right around her waist, his nose pressing to her neck while her arms encase his shoulders with just the right amout of pressure to feel loved but not painful yet. even the way she still smells like that perfume he’s pretty sure his mom gifted her a few years ago.

“what are you doing here?” he breathes out after a few minutes. “i don’t know, some guy i used to know is going first overall today and his parents flew me out” he knows she’s smiling without even having to move his head. “you don’t know i’ll go first” he mumbles, anxiety suddenly coming back at full force. “no, i don’t. but i think you will. and you’d deserve it.” he can’t help but pout when she pulls back from their hug to take his jaw into her hands and look straight in his eyes.

“no matter when you’re picked. no matter if you’re picked. i’m so, so proud of you. you understand me?” viennas smile when he nods his head brings the butterflies straight back to his stomach. the butterflies he thinks have always been there, just not at full force, but ever since he took her to prom a few weeks ago they feel different, stronger.

“good, because i have a surprise for you. actually two” she reaches into her bag and presses a bracelet into his hands. it’s white with small red hearts and he can tell she made it herself. when he takes it out of her palm he notices she’s wearing a matching one, only with bigger hearts. “will you put it on me?” he asks, voice a quiet murmur because in this moment every softest sound feels like it’s too loud.

“of course.” she answers just as softly. her gentle hands work quickly and tie the bracelet around his wrist, fastening it to fit properly. “what’s the second surprise?” he asks after he’s examined his wrist with the bracelet on and decided he likes the look of it. the look of them belonging together. “well, you know how i’ll go to college in the fall, right?” he nods, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“i applied to chemistry programs in every city that was in contention for first pick” she whispers into the space between them. “there’s a really good undergrad chemistry program at uchicago. and they’d want me on their soccer team. full scholarship. maybe, after tonight, you’re gonna need a roomie in chicago?” she smiles up at him timidly.

he feels hot and cold at the same time. the girl that he’s been watching the stars with since they were four years old, the girl that was with him every step of the way, no matter if he was three streets down or thousands of miles away, wants to continue living her life with him in it. is willing to base a decision as important as college on his career. willing to move to a different city, hell a different country to be with him.

“i haven’t confirmed anything, if you don’t want me to i have a few other schools i could go to, i’m sorry for even-” her remaining words are muffled by the fabric of his suit. “you’d do that?” he whispers breathlessly into the hug. “you’d come with me?” and she laughs wetly, “connor, i think i’d come to the ends of the earth with you” and he has to squeeze her tighter at that.

it takes about three pleas to convince his mom to let vienna sit next to him in their row. he’s been asked a few times if she was his girlfriend but not at all as many as she had feared. madi figures it helps that the matching bracelet is hidden beneath his suit jacket and shirt sleeve. the two girls stick closely together anyway, always having been close and not wanting to bother connor too much but equally as much wanting to support the boy they’ve both loved for as long as they could remember.

she doesnt’t think holding his hand would be smart with the way hundreds of cameras are pointed towards connor from the second he arrived, so she settles for linking her ankle with his. when the blackhawks representative steps up on the stage her breath is stolen out of her lungs. her fingers tap on her thighs and fiddle with the hem of her dress mindlessly until he starts speaking.

the breath she’s holding releases with a laugh before the man can even finish the word regina and as soon as connors name sounds through the room she’s up, waits for him to hug his family first though before he turns to her and wraps her up in a lingering hug. “thank you, cherry. could not have made it here without you.” “t’was all you, con. all you” there’s tears shining in her eyes when they pull away and madi has her arm around viennas waist within seconds.

connor throws her a wink with a smiley “don’t cry” over his shoulder before he makes his way towards the stage. before he even has the jersey over his head vienna has her phone out already and confirms to uchicago that yes, she will enroll there in the fall and yes, she will play soccer. madi and connors mom smile at her, pull her into a tight hug as the three of them giggle. their favourite boy made it and vienna’s going with him.

the following hours are a little much for vienna, which she knew beforehand. there’s so many people and so much happening but the second they step out of the venue and towards the car she feels calmer. the family dinner they have at the hotel restaurant feels a lot more comfortable than basically the whole evening and when she asks connors dad for the keys to their rental car and if she can steal his son for a couple hours, no bedard could’ve said no to her.

they’re quiet on the drive, nashville looking mesmerizing at night and both of them having to process what happened today. she’s put some quiet instrumental music on, he knows it’s taylor swift songs on the piano because it’s what she likes to listen to while studying. she makes a quick stop for ice cream at the mcdonald’s drive through, ordering both their favourites on autopilot even after they haven’t gotten them together in years.

he eats his ice cream and alternates between staring at her and the city that’s getting smaller and smaller behind them until she parks the car somewhere out of it. he doesn’t realize why until she opens the sunroof and reclines her seat. his throat constricts as his breath hitches at the familiarity of it all.

he can’t recount how many nights he’d spent just like this. vienna and him under a sky full of stars with their favourite snacks. there’s the butterflies again. they’re always there, he’s noticed. when vienna’s there, when something reminds him of her, when someone mentions her. the little tickles in his stomach are her constant companion.

whenever people talked about butterflies in his stomach when he was younger, he envisioned a slightly uncomfortable sensation. what he’s feeling now is anything but uncomfortable though. it’s the same feeling he’s had around vienna for his whole life, or at least for as long as he can remember and it’s nowhere near uncomfortable.

he finds he likes the butterflies even more when he slides his hand in hers. there’s tears in his eyes now and fuck, he promised himself he wouldn’t cry in front of anyone else on his draft day, only allowed himself a few happy tears in the bathroom when he found a quiet moment. but vienna’s gentle with him, just as she always has been, squeezes his hand once before her other comes up to wipe his tears away.

when vienna has showed him all the constellations she can find on this particular night, they make their way back to the hotel. she drives slow on purpose, he knows, because they don’t have moments like this often anymore and it gets him excited for when she’ll start college in chicago. he makes a mental note to start looking for apartments near campus and the arena, thinks he needs to make sure they have a terrace or balcony to watch the city from.

there’s no hesitation when they make their way back to the hotel. she makes a quick detour to her room, grabs a small bag with the things she’ll need to sleep over and then slips right into connors room with him.

when they’re lying next to each other and connor watches vienna fall asleep in his shirt he can’t help but feel lucky. he went first overall and he’ll get to share his space and his life with his favourite girl again.

#vienna ainsley summers #goldie's yeah i like you au #connor bedard #connor bedard imagine #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard x oc

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just-ice-water-plz2 · 2 months

Text

💜💜my **personal** reasons to💜💜 🖤 🖤get skinnier🖤🖤 💜

⚠️TW TOXIC⚠️

*** friendly reminder: Summer/June is only 50 days away.***

**notice I said personal reasons meaning only pertaining to me myself and I <3**

🖤to see how jealous my friends get when they see how skinny I am. Remember when she said she was jealous of my legs?! Don’t you want that again?!

💜feeling so pretty and put together no matter what clothes I’m wearing.

🖤to wear my clothes and not have the clothes wear me. I am the main statement piece to every outfit.

💜to make people so envious when they see me enjoying treats and so people think I’m one of those “natural skinny” girls.

🖤to make my bf worry about me.

💜to be noticeably skinnier the next time he holds me.

🖤to look so fragile that people are scared I might break or blow away in the wind.

💜how good it feels knowing I’m underweight. I need to be more underweight. Being a healthy weight is disgusting.

🖤noticing how much women (especially older women) stare at me in envy when I’m just shopping and going about my day in a cute little outfit.

💜to pick the smallest size possible when ordering or trying on clothes

🖤everything looks better skinny

💜to see how people react when they’re in my presence. They’re astounded.

🖤hearing that family members are talking behind my back calling me an0r3xic. They’re just jealous.

💜when a family member says “enjoy your body while you have it. I was skinny at your age too” and now they’re overweight, single with 5 children. I will NEVER look like her. Ever.

🖤being the skinniest person in my friend group

💜the haters want me to gain. Why am I letting them win and feel that satisfaction of seeing me gain. Disgusting. I need to prove them super wrong and be so smoking hot and skinny this summer 💋💋.

🖤 hearing my sister tell me how jealous she is that im so tall and we“naturally skinny” **is anybody really naturally skinny?**

💜seeing how everyone turns their head to look at me at work. Motivates me to look cute at work too.

🖤I just want to be the definition of a dainty, fragile, gorgeous women.

💜when my friend says she wants to be skinny like me.

🖤people telling me I should be a model bcuz I’m so tall and skinny. I need to stop gaining and get back into my skinny grinding era. I’m working on it I swear 😭

💜being skinny is a lifestyle.

🖤**unfriendly reminder** she’s still skinnier than you. Why are you eating for an entire family of 4??! Stop gaining it’s not f***ing cute 😐

💜life is just worth living when you’re skinny. I want to go out and show off my hard work not hide in my house covering my fat rolls. Never again.

🖤knowing how much more attractive being skinny makes you. I was average before but now I’m skinny and gorgeous.

💜knowing I make someone feel bad about their body just by existing in the same room as them. I can tell by people’s reactions when they’re insecure bcuz I’m all dressed up and skinny.

🖤to not be insecure. I was so insecure when I was fat but now I’m skinny so what is there to be insecure about? Except now you’ve gained so apparently there’s a lot to feel bad about.

💜to have a “cheat day” that’s still in a cal deficit bcuz my stomach has shrunk so much I can barley eat without feeling stuffed.

🖤I just love the feeling of knowing I am the one making others jealous instead of me being the jealous one. most of the time. Why not all the time?

💜to wear a bikini this summer and only seeing everyone else’s fat rolls. Not a single one in sight on me. Not if you keep eating like this.

🖤people treat skinnier people better. I know from experience. I love it, it makes me feel so special.

💜if these are my “best years” in life I will have the best body to match these “best years”. And I will have an amazing body still as I age. I will never “let myself go.” Disgusting.

🖤to make my one friend who also has an ed jealous. She always makes me jealous telling me how she only weighs 97lbs. I want to make her jealous. I’m taller than her by a few inches so I definitely can get skinnier than her without going so low. So why haven’t you done it yet?

💜bcuz my so called “best friends” were talking bad about me behind my back so the best revenge is to be the skinniest and hottest one in the group. Talk shit about that you f**king b***h. I always over dress everywhere and get the most compliments as revenge. I have other more real friends who would never.

🖤to make my “friends” even more jealous. I know that’s why they’re talking about me bcuz I’m glowing up so hard right now and they simply cannot handle it. I need to glow up more. I want to see them seeth with jealousy just with my existence.

💜to feel my bones more. I miss feeling my bones like I used to.

🖤to feel how you felt at your LW. Wasn’t that amazing and so thrilling to see the scale say “104lbs.” Why did you stop there? You must get started on losing the f***ing 13+lbs you gained. Gross.

💜 i <3 b e i n g s k i n n y💜

#tw edtwt #wieiad #3d diet

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lovesosweeet · 6 months

Text

better left unsaid // cth

chapter forty

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

june 21, 2016 amsterdam, the netherlands calum

I don’t feel bad when my alarms wake up everyone else on the bus. My first one is to wake me up, and the second is to remind me that I really have to get up. Both rounds of the ringing, beeping, and vibrating meet me with a bus full of grumbling band mates, their girlfriends, and Matt.

“Calum, turn that shit off!” Michael groans.

“Sorry, sorry!” I whisper, throwing myself out of bed so I have to wake up fully.

“I’m happy that you have a girl, really, man, but these early ass wake up calls are not it,” Ashton whines.

“Well, get don’t used to it. Only a few more weeks in Europe and then I can’t see her for awhile.”

I grab my duffel bag from my bunk and head out of the bus, into the venue for a shower. I have about thirty minutes before I need to go get Orion and her friends from the airport. It’s just enough time to take a shower and then convince Matt to have someone drive me in a van to the airport.

While I’m showering, I hear the door to the bathroom open and loud, heavy footsteps echo on the tiled floor.

“That’s you in there, I gather, Hood?” Matt’s voice calls out.

“Yeah, it’s me!”

“Do I have to get you a van again this morning?” Surprisingly, he doesn’t sound annoyed. He really likes Orion, for some reason. Actually, I know why he likes her. It’s just rare that he actually like someone.

I stick my head out of the shower and find him standing right outside the flimsy curtain. I give him my most charming smile. “Please?”

He nods. “Done. Y’know, just shoot me a text when she books her flights or whatever. Then I don’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn with you.”

“Thanks, Matt! You’re the best!”

After my shower, I dress in a piece of our own band’s merch — a black t-shirt with Youngblood on the front in red and a rose on the back — and the same pair of black jeans I wear almost every day, a pair of black Converse on my feet, hoping to match Orion if she wears hers. I toss my stuff back on the bus and then get into the black van that’s waiting for me.

“Airport?” The driver asks. I confirm, and then he starts driving.

From: stargirl hey, we landed! we’ll be waiting outside for you To: stargirl sweet :) on the way now. can’t wait to see you!

“Is it the girl again?” The driver asks again, and I can’t seem to wipe the smile from my face.

“It’s the girl again.”

We pull up to the airport and I see her, along with her roommates. Orion is dressed in a white t-shirt dress, a green baseball cap with LA on it, and her black Converse. We do match. She’s grinning as we park right in front of them, and somehow her smile grows even more when I open the door.

“Hi, beautiful,” I say, hopping out of the van so I can hug her. I don’t hold on too long because Orion has been feeling so self-conscious about the fans and their feelings toward her, so I step back and hug each of the other three girls.

They all say a chorus of “hi, Cal” and I’m excited to have them all here. Ilse is from Amsterdam, so she’s going to be our tour guide today, but tomorrow she’s visiting her family. They’re all surprised that she’s home again so soon, since she hasn’t even been gone for three weeks, but she said she’s excited to get to bring more clothes to Madrid with her.

We pile into the van to head back to the venue, where we’ll drop off all the girls’ stuff before we head out to play tourist for the day. When we get there, I’m not surprised to see Ashton is awake, standing outside by the bus with a cup of what I assume is coffee in his hand. He waves to us as we hop out of the van.

“Are those the Lavapies Ladies I see!?” He says, giggling.

Orion rolls her eyes, smiling to me quickly as I take her bag from her, before she runs to Ashton. “Hello, Ashton! Yes, these are the Lavapies Ladies. You remember Paula, I’m sure, since she came to Rome. Then this is Ilse,” she says, pointing to the petite blonde, “and that’s Marta,” and she points to the brunette girl.

Ashton rolls his eyes back at her. “Yes, I remember all three of them, Orion.” They hug quickly, and Orion’s height is dwarfed by Ashton. It makes me wonder how silly the two of us must look next to each other, since I’m an inch or two taller than Ash.

“Just making sure!” Orion yells, raising her hands in surrender.

“Okay, we’ve got a full day ahead of us, we should probably get going if you want to get to see everything. And I know for a fact Orion will be pissed if we don’t get to eat breakfast at the place I have picked out,” Ilse says, giving Orion a smirk and a side eye.

“We’re fucking leaving right now then, where do we put our stuff, Cal?” Orion means business when it comes to breakfast, and it makes all of us laugh.

“Actually, we should probably just leave it in the van,” I say, glancing at Ash for confirmation.

Ashton nods. “Yeah, that works, I’ll shoot Matt a text just in case.”

“Are you coming with us, Ash?” Paula asks, looking between me and Ashton.

Ashton looks surprised and seemingly asks me if it’s okay with a raise of his eyebrow. I nod. “Sure, I’ll go with you guys. Ilse, I’ll need you to show me your favorite dispensary.”

With that, the crew is off, Ilse and Ashton at the front of the pack, discussing shrooms and weed and who knows what else. Paula and Marta fall into some conversation in Spanish that I won’t even pretend to try to decipher any part of, and Orion takes her place next to me, grabbing my hand in hers and giving it a squeeze.

“You let me know the minute you feel uncomfortable, okay? If you feel like you’re being watched or whatever. I don’t want a repeat of Rome.”

Orion being slutshamed in the crowd at our concert made me more upset than she let me be. She kept insisting everything was fine and that she didn’t care, but the pain in her eyes was evident, and it made me feel horrible. I hate knowing that the fans don’t fully accept her yet, but I do know, without a doubt, that they’ll love her once they’re used to her. It’s hard to be in my shoes, not because I don’t want to say anything, but because I don’t want to overwhelm Orion with my feelings, nor do I want to jump the gun by making any public statements so soon after we’ve met. We literally met 18 days ago.

I feel like I’ve known her my whole life. Fuck, I feel like I’d be in love with her if she’d give me another award winning smile and kiss me again. I’m totally, completely all in for her. I’ve never felt so sure of anything.

Orion insists, once again, that she’s fine, and we just follow the others in comfortable silence. She takes in the sights of Amsterdam while we walk. I feel like she’s going to love it. It’s so… quaint, in a way. That’s how she described London, even though admittedly, in my opinion, London is far from quaint.

I suppose that’s just who she is, though. She sees the sparkling qualities in everything, even when the gross, dark, dirty parts are right there. It’s so refreshing to have found someone who has such a positive, infectiously happy energy, and she’s not even overwhelming or obnoxious about it. She’s so genuine. Everything she says, she means, and you can see it on her face, aside from how she discloses her feelings, I guess.

There’s no way she really doesn’t mind being called a slut. I’m all for the deconstruction of that term and I’m sure she is, too, but I can’t imagine that anyone who’d use that term toward a stranger is also on board with that.

We get to Ilse’s first destination, a breakfast place called The Avocado Show, and Orion looks at the sign above the door with stars in her eyes. They tell us there’s about an hour wait, and Ilse promises it’s worth it. She says she’s down to hold our spot if we all want to wander around until our table is ready.

Ash volunteers to keep Ilse company, and then Paula, Marta, Orion, and I are walking around, just the four of us. We don’t get far before we see a flower stall, and the girls are all immediately distracted by the massive flowers that fill the buckets. As if I’m not there, they’re gushing over each of the different flowers, picking them up to sniff and show each other.

I think they forget that I’m here, momentarily, until I grab a few of the flowers they’d smelled and said were ‘oh-my-god-so-pretty’ and hand a small wad of euros to the vendor to wrap into three small bundles for them. When I go to hand each of them their personal mini-bouquets, they stare at me, gobsmacked.

“Cal!” Orion hisses, taking her flowers from me. “What did I tell you?”

I roll my eyes and pull Orion away from the stall by her elbow, Marta and Paula smiling at me knowingly while they follow us. “It is a special occasion!”

Orion pouts and holds her flowers up to her nose, taking a sniff of the fragrant flowers. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

“Di gracias,” Paula hisses to Orion, who rolls her eyes in response.

“Thank you, Cal. But seriously, you’ve gotta stop buying me flowers,” O says, huffing quietly.

“Thanks, Cal!” Marta and Paula say in sync, looping their arms through each others and walking off toward the canal we’d just crossed.

I go to follow Orion’s roommates but am stopped by her grabbing my hand while she stands firmly in place. I turn around and face her. She looks distraught, for some reason. I just bought her flowers. Is that not what girls want?

“Calum,” she starts. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but please, can flowers just be an occasional thing?”

When I look into her eyes, I can’t help but wonder if she’s holding back tears. Did I make her cry? I just bought her flowers. It’s concerning, because I thought flowers were supposed to be something that wins girls over, not something that pushes them away.

My confusion must be evident, because she continues.

“I’ll explain later, I promise, but I just… please, flowers aren’t an everyday thing. Please?”

Because she seems genuinely upset about this, I drop it. I don’t want her to feel whatever negative emotion she’s feeling right now. I wanted her to smile when I handed her the small bunch of peonies and tulips, not be on the verge of tears.

I nod, reaching out to try to hug her, but she steps back, increasing the distance between us. I don’t know what switch I flipped in this girl, but I feel awful. “Yeah, of course, O. I just… thought it was something nice I could do for you guys. I’m sorry if it’s upset you, that wasn’t what i wanted.”

Her expression softens. “Sorry, Cal, I don’t want you to feel bad about it. It’s fine. I’m fine. I swear! We’re good. Let’s go catch up with Pau and Marta.”

She reaches out and takes my hand, dragging me after her roommates who are now taking turns posting for pictures with the view of the canal in the back. When we get close enough, Orion drops my hand and runs up to Paula, jumping into her photo — literally. She koala jumps at Paula, who somehow manages to catch Orion without tipping over. Marta seems to catch it all in the photos she’s taking while the three of them scream with laughter.

Their antics make me smile, quickly changing up my mood from whatever just happened with Orion about the flowers. I approach the giggling girls, holding my hand out for the phone that Marta is using to take the pictures.

“Go, jump in, I’ll take some of the three of you,” I say, motioning toward Paula and Orion, who’s still wrapped around Paula’s upper body, holding both of their bouquets behind Paula’s back.

I follow the directions Orion had given me back in London on how to take a proper photo of her. I squat down, getting a slightly lower angle, tap on the ground to adjust the lighting, and then start clicking the shutter button repeatedly, capturing both candids and posed photos. After the three of them have rotated through a few poses, Paula puts Orion down on the ground and Orion hands her her bouquet.

“Okay, Cal, hop over here. You guys need some pictures, too,” Paula says, holding her hand out for the phone in my hand. When I hand it to Paula, I recognize the phone case covered in teddy bears as Orion’s. Now I know who to ask for the photos we’re about to take.

I take my place next to Orion, instinctively wrapping an arm around her waist. I’ve taken thousands of photos with fans, and this is always the first step to posing with them. When I glance down at her to see if she has any specific requests about this picture, I see she’s sticking out her lips in a kissy face and holding up a peace sign.

I laugh, quickly doing the same, which makes Paula and Marta laugh.

“Just take a normal one!” Marta calls, making me blush slightly.

I smile and dig my fingers into Orion’s side, where I know she’s slightly ticklish. The sound of her laughter fills my ears next, and it’s the sweetest sound I think I’ve ever heard.

“Ew, I’m gonna throw up,” Paula yells with a smile that makes it very clear she’s joking. “You guys are so cute.”

We take a few more pictures and ask a stranger to take some of all four of us before we continue to wander throughout the streets. We pop into a tourist shop where Orion gets a small stuffed animal with a tiny t-shirt on that has “Amsterdam” printed on it, explaining that it’s for her younger brother. The girls all take a few more pictures in front of a mural we find before Ilse sends a WhatsApp message saying we need to be back at the restaurant in 10 minutes or else we lose our table.

At breakfast, it’s a mess of conversations that constantly evolve, including different people at the table. Each of us is constantly pulled from group to group, shouting across the table, taking bites of food from other plates and inevitably posting for yet another photo that Orion takes. She goes around the table, making everyone pose with the menu for the restaurant because she says it’s adorable.

The waitress ends up being a fan, but she’s very calm the whole time we eat, so Ashton and I take a bunch of pictures with her after we get the check, sign anything she wants, and Ashton says we should follow her on Twitter, so we do. I take note of how happy Orion looks while we interact with her. It’s almost like she’s proud, which makes my heart feel warmer. She’s only known me for a few weeks and seeing her feel like that about me or the band already is the sweetest.

Ilse takes us to a few museums that she declares are the most important in the city — but she also says that she holds uncommon and unpopular opinions so if we have negative feelings, we should let her know via her nonexistent Google listing. We stop at the Amsterdam Tulip Museum, the Museum of Prositution, and she offers that we walk for quite a while to visit the Banksy or Van Gogh museums, but we decide to stick to the part of the city we’re already in instead. She takes us to the Heineken Experience, and she also mentions that the Anne Frank House is always a worthwhile stop, but we would’ve needed reservations months in advance.

We hit up the dispensaries Ashton had asked about earlier, and everyone except Orion buys at least a small edible. Orion declines, saying she doesn’t have any interest in anything, even after Ashton insists he buy for everyone. I just got a cookie that I’ll probably save for a night when I just want to relax between shows. Ash and Ilse stocked up on quite a few things, and Paula and Marta both got a small bag of gummies to try. The spectrum of interest in the store was quite comical at the register as everyone handed over their selections.

By the time we get back to the venue, both Ilse and Ashton have microdosed mushrooms, and Marta and Paula say they’re going to go to the hotel to take naps before the show. They all slept on the floor of the Madrid airport last night before they got on their flight, so they are understandably exhausted. Orion sticks with me while Ilse and Ashton take a few laps around the area behind the venue.

I take O to the green room, which is thankfully empty, and we curl up on the couch in the middle of the room. I see the cooler that Michael always requests be full of beer and run over to get two bottles, handing Orion one after I open them with a keychain I always carry. She doesn’t take a sip like she normally would, and she’s staring at my face intently.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m being weird,” she starts. “I want to go ahead and talk about the flower thing.”

I’m taken aback, but I nod. I’m not used to someone being so set on talking about something that they understand is uncomfortable. Orion is unlike anyone I’ve ever met, so I guess it makes sense. She’s honest and open, and this is a new example of how that manifests for her.

“I try not to let it be a thing, but there were a lot of things wrong with my last relationship. And I’m not trying to put any kind of label or weight onto what this is, but I do need you to know that flowers aren’t something I like to be just thrown around.

“I know it’s kind of stupid, because, I mean, it’s just flowers. I’ve just had them used as an insincere ‘I’m sorry’ or some kind of weird evidence that someone isn’t an awful partner. I love flowers. I really, really do, so I like… want to receive them, but I don’t want them to be something mundane or insincere. They’re not as special if they’re given all the time, so I like it when they have meaning.”

Even if I disagree with her logic, I nod. I think that she deserves to receive flowers every single day if it would make her smile, but I get that she wants them to be something special.

“Orion, I’m here right now with you because I like you and I respect you.” I look her directly in her light brown eyes so she knows I mean the words I’m saying. “If that’s how you feel, I’m happy and willing to reserve giving you flowers for special occasions. I’m sorry if me getting you flowers today didn’t come off the right way, because I was really just trying to do something nice.”

She smiles. It’s her standard, award-winning, bright and beaming grin that could put me in a haze for days. “No, I know. Thank you. I loved the flowers today. I just wanted you to know, I guess, going forward, how I feel. Again, not to put any kind of weird pressure onto whatever this is.”

I nod and lean forward to kiss her, grabbing her cheeks to hold her steady.

“You are most welcome.”

#5sos #luke hemmings #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #calum hood #fanfiction #5sosfam #imagine #fanfic #michael clifford #calum 5sos #calum fanfic #calum fic #calum x ofc #calum x fem!oc #better left unsaid

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mariacallous · 2 years

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I woke up on Sunday morning to a call from a CNN producer asking if I would come on the news to talk about what had happened in Colorado Springs. I had no idea what she was saying, but as a Pulse survivor I could feel it in my gut. While she had me on the phone, I tried to get up to speed on what happened.

The news started to filter through: five dead, many more injured. I called friends in the area to make sure they were OK. Immediately, my heart was broken, and I was transported back to the worst night of my life.

I often refer to 11 June 2016, as my “last normal day”. I was a totally different person then. I worked at Starbucks. I was content to enjoy the sliver of happiness I found in the world. My best friends Juan and Drew were also my chosen family. I lost them that night. Nothing will ever be the same for me. It’s a weight I will carry for the rest of my life.

When I was young, I didn’t know the term “safe space”. But I knew how gay bars made me feel. There was a bar where I grew up in Portland called the Escape where I felt like I could be myself for the first time. But I was living at home back then, and going to a gay bar still felt like a dirty secret that I had to hide.

Then I moved to Orlando. Pulse was the first place I can remember holding hands with someone I liked without looking over my shoulder first. I dared to wear a real pair of skinny jeans in public without having to worry about what people would say. I came of age in that bar. It was a place where you can exhale and dare to imagine a better future for yourself.

I dabbled in music production for a time and Pulse was the first place I heard one of my songs play. I ran from one corner to another saying: “That’s me!”

It’s impossible to think about Pulse without remembering the horrible events of 12 June 2016. But Pulse was also a home. Obviously the night that the tragedy happened is emblazoned in my memory for ever, but it’s the beautiful, joyful times that stick with me.

Just over six years later, I’m filled with rage. My community has been under assault. We’re angry because we’ve been worried this type of thing was coming. We’ve spent months listening to hateful, vile, disgusting rhetoric spewed by rightwing figures like my own governor, Ron DeSantis.

DeSantis and Texas’s governor, Greg Abbott, have been caught in a pissing match over who can treat the LGBTQ+ community worse. They are supported in the media by a slew of rightwing talking heads who make money when they say shocking things: Christopher Rufo, Candace Owens, Charlie Kirk, Ben Shapiro. Their hate trickles up to Fox News hosts like Tucker Carlson, Jeanine Pirro and Sean Hannity, through conferences like CPAC and to wealthy figures like Stephen Miller, who spent millions running anti-trans ads through the midterms.

My community knew a tragedy like what happened at Club Q was coming. We kept sounding the alarm when armed protesters showed up at drag shows, when white supremacists were arrested outside of Pride festival after threatening violence, when a donut shop was firebombed because they dared to host an art show featuring drag queens. We begged those on the right to turn the temperature down, to stop assaulting an already marginalized community. They wouldn’t listen.

A recent Trevor Project poll found that 66% of LGBTQ+ young people said the current political climate had an impact on their physical and mental health. It breaks my heart that a place like Club Q, and especially the trans people who were there, had to pay the ultimate price of the hateful rhetoric of politicians trying to win votes.

I’ve seen a lot of people in my circle on social media saying: we’re all we’ve got. And that feels so relevant right now. I know that in this hostile political environment, it’s my community that has my back. It’s the drag performers, who have their reputations shattered by politicians every day but still show up on Saturday to entertain us with their artistry. It’s the Black trans women, who have been under assault not just for the past months, but decades. And as we saw with the trans woman who helped take down the Club Q shooter with her high heel, they’re willing to put their bodies on the line to defend us. The challenge for the rest of us is simple: are we willing to do the same for them?

When you’ve been touched by hate violence, you become part of this unfortunate club. There’s a look in someone’s eyes when they’ve seen the same things I’ve seen. There’s a dim to their shine, as if the innocence and naivety has been ripped from them. I remember seeing this very vividly when I first met the Parkland kids. I feel it with every survivor I meet. I would tell the survivors in Colorado to please lean on the rest of us. The cameras will go away when the next crisis breaks out, but we know what you’re going through. Most of all: be good to each other. Do what you need to do to feel well and whole and don’t feel guilty about waking up tomorrow. You belong here.

I’m hosting Thanksgiving this year. Drew and Juan should be there. If they were, they’d cook, because I sure don’t. After we lost them, some of their friends, from all different points in their lives, came together. We’re bonded by trauma, and a fierce love for our friends. We’ll spend the day drinking lots of wine, playing video games and looking through old photos. We honor our friends with the joy of being together. And when we go home, we’ll take our rage and try to use it to change the world.

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scotianostra · 1 year

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On June 4th 1977 Scotland beat The Auld Enemy 2-1 at Wembley Stadium and decided to take some souvenirs home with them.

What with the celebrations at Wembley we sometimes forget that there was a football match played beforehand! Gordon McQueen and Kenny Dalglish struck to secure a famous victory and Scotland fans spilled on to the Wembley turf at full-time. It’s etched on the nations psche and ranks up there with the likes of Bannockburn, but the English didn’t see it that way, their team of World Beaters had been humbled again, and they were on there way out of the Woeld Cup too, failing to qualify for the second World Cup in a row. It came down to goal difference between England and Italy, with the Italians booking their ticket to Argentina thanks to their 6 -1 thumping of Finland.

Back to the events 45 years ago on this day, I had just turned 12, and the family were glued to the TV screen watching the story unfold.

The Tartan Army celebrated joyously following a game in which the scoreline flattered the hosts, such was the dominance of the Scots. Watching back the YouTube footage, you hear the extraordinary noise of whistles greeting every English touch of the ball inside their own national stadium

The goalposts were torn down while a number of supporters walked away with a piece of English football’s most hallowed surface – a memento from such a historic day.

Two years earlier, the visitors had been routed 5-1 at the same venue but, with Ally McLeod, now in charge, the Scots were a more formidable force on their next visit.Scotland were in the ascendancy early on and Dalglish could perhaps count himself unfortunate not to be awarded a penalty after some heavy pressure from Mick Mills in the area.However, the visitors went ahead three minutes before the interval when McQueen soared highest to power home a header from a free-kick. Dalglish was able to double their lead on the hour, scoring at the second attempt after his initial attempt was blocked, and although Mike Channon pulled one back with a late penalty, it counted for little.

The final whistle sparked frenzied celebration from the travelling fans, while Scotland toasted finishing top of the Home Internationals table that year, retaining the trophy they had won in 1976. The Scots had earlier drawn 0-0 with Wales and beaten Northern Ireland 3-0.

The moment entered Scottish football folklore - that Wembley win on June 4, 1977 became the iconic moment - a Woodstock moment - for a generation of football fans from north of the border, the ultimate ‘I was there’ claim.

The man that snapped the crossbar was 21-year-old Alec Torrance, who became something of a Scottish celebrity.

He later recalled: 'Those were Bay City Roller days and I’m sorry to say that I was wearing a tartan shirt, brown flares and platform shoes.

'I just started running towards the posts where the winning goal had been scored. Scots were climbing all over it, and I tried climbing up but it was difficult because of my platforms. I was pulled up by some of those already on it and was just about to swing my legs over it when it snapped. I landed on my arse and then stood up and saluted the crowd.'It was sheer ecstasy. I then started digging up the Wembley turf. I handed out hundreds of little bits of the turf and I kept some for myself.’

When Torrance passed away in 2010, one of those who sent flowers was Rod Stewart. The singer and die-hard Scotland fan was on the Wembley pitch that day and can be seen in photographs being lifted up by joyous fans.The singer has said of the occasion: 'I was at Wembley in 1977 - and it is a day I remember well.'At the end, I wanted to go on the pitch with the rest of the fans but I was there with my dad, who said 'No.“I said to him, 'just try and stop me’. When I got to the pitch, police were trying to stop the fans going on. I lifted my hat to show my face.

'And when the officer saw who it was, he said: 'Oh alright, go on then.”

Also on the pitch was the current Scotland manager Gordon Strachan, who was in London on his honeymoon.

He recalled in 2013: 'Do I feel red-faced about it? Not at all. My wife and my best man were with me on the terraces and we were the only ones in that section still standing there.

'A policeman said to us, “Do me a favour and get on the pitch as you look silly standing there on your own”. So we just joined in. I was only a boy then, 20 years old. I was glad to be on the pitch. I didn’t wreck anything. Did I swing on the crossbar? I couldn’t reach it. But there’s a bit of turf in the garden of a house in Broughty Ferry from Wembley. If the FA want me to pay for it then that’s not a problem.’

The history books would tell us that it was first time Emgland had lost consecutive matches at Wembley, but the pitch invasion brought into question the need for fencing at Wembley and the future of the Home Championship was put in doubt. It all helped fuel Don Revie’s increasing distaste for his job as England manager.

#scotland #scottish #football #national team #england #wembley #history

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espanora · 8 months

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popstar tendencies chapter 1

(for the sake of this story Lisa is in a relationship w/ Nic in 1996)

(Ben and Riley are a few years aged up, more mature)

SORRY IF I SCREW UP ANY EVENTS/TIMELINES

june, 1996

"Mike I swear, you're going to end up like your songs." Janet chuckled. Eating a glazed donut in the cushiony bean bag reserved for more younger guests, such as her nieces and nephews.

"I don't sing it if I don't mean it." Michael said jokingly in a falsetto tone reminiscent of his Jackson 5 days.

Michael cleared his throat. "Which song might you be referring to?"

"I dunno, you already ended up like a lot of them," Janet carefully glanced at Michael who was now scratching his head and turning away.

"No duh, dunk. I write them because they mean something." Michael's voice softened at 'something'.

"Hmph, what about.. Billie Jean?"

"You sayin' I'm going to have a story akin to Billie Jean? That has a lot of open endings, Dunk. "

Janet smirked. "You're not far from it Mike. You are a pretty messy guy. Who knows?"

Across from Janet is Michael on a low seated couch with a neglected bowl of popcorn on his lap, widening his eyes ever so slightly.

"I am not Jermaine, nor Randy, or Tito or even Jackie and Marlon. Never having a child out of wedlock." Michael persistently stated, with a slight pout on his face.

"Right, Mother wouldn't approve of that." The same energy was reciprocated back to Michael. Janet had another variation of a smirk, matching Michael's expression.

"Where is this leading to?" He finally spat out in curiosity.

"Look man, I just don't want some random, woman, actress or model becoming pregnant with the initials 'M.J' being written in her child's DNA. Just looking out for you." She tilted her head ever so slightly as she talked.

Michael now was visibly perplexed. "Which- Look, all the models, actors I've ever known, we run into each other by accident and in public. Nothing else." He was now scratching his head.

"I heard something else happens after those events, and some of those meetings aren't "accidentally' planned." Janet mischievously avoided eye contact with her brother.

"Where do you hear this from?" He now sat up straight and leaned forward in Janet's direction, hoping to pry some answers out of her.

"Word travels fast, especially among the staff that are in some of the hotels that you stay at." She took a breath and continued, "Like the one in Monaco last month."

Janet knew damn well that her brother who was portrayed as a harmless sweet angel had no trouble finding late night companionship. Not to mention his promiscuous exploits even before settling down and getting married for the first time.

"Dunk, I'm not going to pull a tabloid version of me and become an asexual. I at least deserve that much." Michael's eyes were now downcast as he said that last sentence.

Janet also knew that Michael doesn't really mean to only have short term relationships and one night entanglements. He wasn't the type to do so, but being Michael Jackson meant that having a committed long term relationship didn't come so easy anymore. Not like it ever did, especially after another break in the form of a divorce or breakup from Lisa.

"Looking out for you, Mike."

She tried an attempt at lightening the mood of the now downbeat Michael chewing on a single popcorn kernel.

"Y'know I was worried for you through the tv screen, the uh, Princess of Monaco was there, and I know what happened between you two before." She raised her eyebrows.

"Naomi Campbell." Janet added and shot a look at Michael, who promptly glanced at the ceiling.

"Plus your old friend Diana Ross was alive and well. I can imagine the panic you felt through the television screen, Mike." Janet looked at the ceiling and laughed.

"Must've been an awkward night for poor you."

Michael turned his head to face Janet, no longer chewing popcorn and wearing a slight upturn on his mouth.

"Dunk, you wouldn't believe how much work I put into avoiding any uncomfortable conversations that night." He was now laughing with Janet.

"That's what you get, loverboy."

a few months prior.

Both of them didn't know what they were at this point. They experienced all the phases of being with another person in less than a decade. If you don't count 1974 and John Branca's wedding of course.

It was best to not overcomplicate things, the fucking is overwhemingly better than the fighting, so why not just leave it like that. Screw the whole, "let's stay friends" bullshit. They tried that before and somebody named Danny Keough just got divorced.

As Lisa sighed on top of a luxurious duvet she turned her head to look over her shoulder. Michael Jackson. He looked good. Really good. Lisa practically was falling on air for this man.

Lisa swore internally as she continued to admire the man across the bed. No ex wife should be throwing such lustful gazes at a man who's their ex husband. Majority of times, ex wives and husbands hope to cleanse themselves from their previous marriages and forget it all happened. For Michael and Lisa? Evidently the opposite.

Michael's eyes were highlighted by the warm tone of the dim lamp that was set in the corner of their dark hotel suite. His facial expression sated and content. He was akin to an angel, however his actions were anything but angelic a few minutes ago.

"Lise, you want a biscuit?" Michael gestured Lisa to a small plate in his gigantic hand, filled with an assortment of cracker, fruit and snacks.

Lisa giggled like a schoolgirl and Michael followed suit. She was so whipped.

"I'll take you up on that offer, consider it me forgiving you for leaving marks on my neck, or rearranging my guts." Lisa took a small bunch of grapes in her hand and ate.

"Don't be silly darling, you asked for those things."

Michael laughed and he flashed his eyes towards Lisa. God, she would remember those eyes for the rest of her life. The way his eyes were solely drawn to her. Eyes that had as much depth as an ancient forest. Lisa dealt with flashes that concerned Michael before. The oh-so sexy bastard wields the power to walk into her thoughts at any given time. Transporting her to a time and place where she only craved him.

What were they? Fuck-buddies? Ex Spouses with Benefits?

Describing the title of their.. newfound interest in each other was very hard indeed. They both figured that being lovers were just easier than being married. Michael wants kids, he doesn’t get kids. Lisa wants to feel stable, she doesn’t feel stable. Although that may be too much of an oversimplification.

Michael end up cutting ties with Ms. Rowe. Finally he had some foresight and thought that she would have some ulterior motives based on the way she was acting recently. Creeped Mike out, but Lisa was amused. Despite the fact that Lisa can’t really stand the image of another woman being in Michael’s drawers late at night, but Lisa is aware that Michael wouldn’t make a single move towards the so very seductive Debbie Rowe.

And surprisingly, Michael was indifferent about Nic. I guess he was too tired to fight anymore. Lisa thought.

For the betterment of moving on after their last argument, Lisa found a companion in movie star, Nicolas Cage. Checked all the standard Lisa check boxes and won himself some Priscilla brownie points. It was all the same to Lisa, she didn’t have the heart to tell to anybody, hell, even admit to herself, that Michael Jackson himself has an everlasting chokehold on Lisa Marie Fucking Presley. And Michael knew that.

Hence the smug smirk he donned on his face.

Even with the distraction of Nic, Lisa and some charming ass man with glittery socks and leather loafers couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

Here they were, both in Mexico pushing all of their responsibilities and problems aside for just one week. Lisa glanced out the suite window where distant torches lit up the nearby ocean. It was a lonely beach since it was a private resort and at a time when everybody should be fast sleep. Talk about a romantic fucked up situation.

“Hey next time you see Darling Nic, tell him I enjoyed Moonlight.”

That was Michael’s nickname for Nicolas Cage, after the provocative Prince song. Lisa didn’t know whether it was a jab at Nic or her. Perhaps even both.

Michael continued chuckling quietly, “Does he even know that you’re here?” “Well, I kind of just, brushed it past him. Although he might not take it well after he finds out you’re in the same country.”

Michael saw a tiny upturn on Lisa’s lips. He loved those lips, especially when he was her own personal lipstick remover.

“Nic might not take it well finding out we’re in the same bed.”

As Michael said that he put down the plate and laid his head back down on the silk pillows, while Lisa was still upright and neck turned toward Michael.

Strictly going by definition, Michael can qualify as a home wrecker right now.

Knowing him, he’s as much of a manwhore as it gets. And you love it.

Lisa averted her gaze towards Michael as her innermost thoughts spoke the loudest,

Michael sat up a bit and touched her chin directing it towards him again and began whispering in a deep tone.

“So, does he know?”

Lisa’s stomach promptly did a flip.

“Just between you and me, Michael.”

The man who touched her chin now suddenly lit up and flashed his smile and ran his fingers through her hair.

“Good girl! That’s what I wanted to hear!”

Lisa grinned slightly again as she spoke up. “Although mother has her eyes on you, you don’t exactly have a clean record with her.”

There came the slight sound of the waves hitting the shore.

#Jacksley #michael jackson #lisa marie presley

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bizarrequazar · 2 years

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06-01 (CST) Twitter Space on Deepfake Tech. Notes

This was a Twitter space held at the start of June discussing deepfake technology and the NRTA memo that came into effect the day prior. Due to personal circumstances, I was unable to take notes for the full space and the recording has unfortunately now expired. [original tweet]

I thankfully did take notes on the first hour’s discussion on deepfakes. This was spoken by a guest speaker, Ferdinand, who works as a computer engineer and has experience with AI. Please let me know if you have any corrections.

Specialized computer software is needed to make deepfakes, some of which can be downloaded off the Internet such such as in the form of apps.

Many photos from various angles are provided to the software as a reference to what the subject looks like

The video starts with a base of an actual video of someone with the face overlaid onto it, which is how the facial movements are able to look so realistic

The programs have been trained with many other faces as well in order to better map key points of the face, such as the bridge of the nose and the corners of the eyes, making it better able to swap faces even with movement

AI programs created to detect deepfake videos can be confused by the video subject’s face not being straight on (ie. sideways) or partially obstructed (ex. wearing a hat). The results of these tools are very dependent on the data they’ve been programmed with.

Detection programs are created by being given databases of both real and fake videos in order to program them to be able to detect patterns present in deepfake videos that are too minimal for the human eye to be able to detect

Deepfakes themselves are programmed much the same way. The more good quality photos and voice clips that have been provided to them, the better the deepfake will be.��

Algorithms nowadays do not need a tremendous amount of voice data in order to create a replication. Some free programs available can do a pretty good replica with only fifteen minutes of data.

Recent advances in the technology, some of which are available through open access, allow for voices to be changed in real time

Very different software is used for visual vs. audio deepfakes, which are done separately. Deeplearning algorithms can be used to run them simultaniously, or they can be created separately then later put together; some software is programmed to match an audio recording to the timing of recorded lip movement. Audio and visual therefore should be analyzed separately when trying to detect a deepfake.

Other than AI detection programs, pretty much the only way to tell if a video is a deepfake is to have an expert look at it who will know signs to look for. Ex. In videos with quick motion, there will often be blurring artifacts or jumps.

Publicly available deepfake detection websites do not work, especially due to the technology constantly evolving.

Some companies creating deepfake technology for legitimate reasons encode a watermark into any video created that is very difficult to detect or remove, but which they would know how to check for.

Laypeople don’t have the technological means to test if a video is a deepfake, therefore it often comes down to context: Does it make sense? Is it consistent with who the person is? “You have the bring a healthy dose of skepticism.”

It can be argued that Chinese companies are leading over the west in terms of deepfake technological advancement due to having more commercial applications. It’s hard to find publicly available information due to laws regarding deepfakes.

Take with a large grain of salt: Based on western companies, a 7-10 minute video with both audio and visual would have a cost of somewhere in the $1000s and would take a week or two. It depends on the desired quality. Imperfections could be later edited to be made nicer, though this would be more easily detectable.

Producing an online video would be cheaper than something being created for something like a movie due to it being shorter, of lower video quality, and having only a single audio track. Likely more in the $100s.

There have been recent efforts by major studios to use deepfake audio to dub movies in other languages using the actors’ original voices.

The only hardware necessary to make a deepfake is a computer with a supported GPU.

Followup thread by Flora about one audio detection program discussed

#Zhang Zhehan #my zzh posts #zzh info

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rutilation · 11 months

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Calendar Spotted! Let's Gooooooooo...

A couple months ago, I observed that some chicanery was afoot with regard to the calendars in CSM. Here's a link to that post. But, if you don't feel like reading through all that, I'll go over the salient points:

We encounter our first calendar in chapter 13. The only unusual thing about it is that it starts on Monday. From here on out, every calendar that doesn't explicitly label its days of the week may start on either Sunday or Monday.

In chapter 72, there is a calendar that potentially matches three months from 1997. If the calendar starts on Sunday, as is traditional, then it only matches June. If it starts on Monday, like the calendar from chapter 13 did, then it matches either September or December.

While September was confirmed as the true time frame a few chapters later, there are a couple complications here. Firstly, snow doesn't fall that early in the year in Hokkaido--it starts in October in the mountains, and November in the lowlands. Secondly, the hydrangeas featured on that calendar are traditionally associated with Japan's rainy season, which spans early June through mid-July. In short: the weather, the calendar, and the actual timeline are all in conflict with each other in chapter 72.

The fantastical photo of Denji, Aki, and Power at the aquarium is dated to June 12th, and is shown to us as Aki's tragedy reaches its crescendo on September 12th. This, for me, confirmed that Fujimoto was doing all this on purpose, and wasn't simply ignorant of how snow works.

The calendar from chapter 119 could be from either March of '98 or '99, depending on how it is formatted. In 1998, March started on Sunday, and in 1999, on Monday. The apocalypse is either a year out, or right around the corner.

We have only been given concrete dates whenever the gun devil is summoned, and also to mark the upcoming apocalypse. Calamities are set in stone, and may be recorded down to the second. All other dates, though, are made ambiguous in some capacity.

Maybe this is hinting at CSM taking place in a timewarp, or some such thing; maybe this is all just a weird symbolic conceit. But, whether metaphorical or literal, it's too consistent to not be deliberate.

So, keeping in mind that Fujimoto sees calendars as an opportunity for shenanigans, let's take a close look at the one in this chapter. This time, the days of the week are clearly labeled, and we can see that the month starts on Thursday the 1st. Using March of '98 as our earliest possible starting point, and July of '99 as our end point, the calendar potentially matches October of '98, April of '99, or July of '99.

The '7' prominently emblazoned on the calendar would seem to confirm that it is July, and that the apocalypse is mere weeks--if not days--away. But, there's not many points where a time skip could have feasibly occurred. It couldn't be between 131 and 132; the children in Nayuta's class speak as though the prior chapters' events had just happened, and there's no indication that Asa was in a months-long coma. Perhaps Yoshida kept Denji and Nayuta imprisoned for much longer than we assumed, but neither of them behave like they've spent months in Public Safety's basement, and Nayuta is wearing the same clothes as when she was abducted. The most likely slot for a timeskip, as far as I can tell, is after the end of 133. But, even that doesn't quite fit. Denji and Nayuta's conversation about how he won't transform any more would have happened a lot earlier--devil attacks are quite frequent, after all. And, why would Asa only just now ask why Yoru has been in a good mood, if it's been months since Falling attacked? Finally, Asa is still wearing her winter uniform, but Japanese schools typically switch over to short sleeves on June 1st (Nayuta was already wearing short sleeves, but her elementary doesn't seem to have a uniform in the first place.) If we're trying to create a coherent timeline, it would make the most sense to assume that the calendar from 119 depicted March of '99, that it's currently April, and that we're only a few days out from Falling being summoned.

But... that sure is a very obvious '7,' isn't it? You can't exactly discount it, even if it makes no sense with the timeline as shown (kind of like a September snowstorm.) And the rabbit hole goes yet deeper still: much like the calendar from chapter 72, this one also features some seasonal Japanese flora. While the illustration is very small, there are some hints as to what it depicts: it's a medium-sized shrub with large, showy flowers that have dark petals, and pale centers. To me, it would appear that these are camellias.

There are two species of camellia native to Japan, japonica (椿), and sasanqua (山茶花.) Japonica blooms from January to March, while sasanqua typically bloom from October to January. Of all the flowers Fujimoto could have picked, he picked the one that does not bloom in either April or July.

But wait, there's more! You'll recall that one of the possible months for this calendar was October of '98, which is when sasanqua first blooms. What I didn't mention is that January of '98 matches both 135's calendar, and the start of japonica's blooming period. I left it out because obviously we didn't travel two months backwards in time since 119, right, Fujimoto? But, I cannot stress this enough, this man is messing with us.

To summarize: the calendar is labeled for summer, only makes sense in spring, and is decorated with flowers for fall and winter. Considering how the last ostentatiously surreal calendar was setting up an awful gut punch in the form of chapter 79's cover illustration, I'm on pins and needles waiting to see what this calendar will bring down the line.

#chainsaw man #i should make a post about instances of hanakotoba in chainsaw man because i have Observed Some Things

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papersandkeyboards · 9 months

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6/13-19: The Hunt for Quite Everything: Comicbooks, High School Diploma, and The Last Moments in Friendships

38th WEEK, JUNE 13-19, 2016.

If you know me well enough or you don’t but you’ve been reading this very tumblr page, I’m not surprised if you find yourself being bored listening to my likeness towards American comic books.

Wait, I’ll rephrase that, because I don’t think I even deserve that status. I like some American comic books, often Marvel over DC, and often only certain issues of certain characters, i.e. Black Widow, Deadpool, Hawkeye, and Ms. Marvel. These comic books were the second thing that popped into my mind when the plane I was in on September 2015 hit the American sky (the first thing being “oh shit, it’s getting real”).

This is my second-to-last week being in the Emerald City, being in the country where I can access these comic books I love dearly for only $2 a piece (in Indo they were like $10-15 AND they don’t even come in full volumes), and this raised an urgency to do what I had decided to do:

a comic book hunt.

But first, I’ll just write the summary of other parts of the week as the following.

Monday, June 13:

The Oceanography class (more specifically, the Salish Sea trip students) went to UW to present the project we’ve been working on since the trip. We finally reunited with the Salish Sea people that we had gotten to know for the 3 days of the trip, and it was nice seeing them again. And who am I kidding, any school trip is always fun, and UW never failed to amuse me with its classy architecture.

Tuesday, June 14:

The school held this thing called Senior Breakfast (I know right, they have so many events for the seniors and it had been fun!) and they held it in Rainier Beach Community Center just across the street from school. The event was pretty self-explanatory: you came earlier in the day before school starts, you could invite your family member, you sat on one of the non-assigned round tables, and you could help yourself to the breakfast buffet in the room. There were speeches and such, but mostly it was the fun of getting free food and hanging out, skipping a wee bit of school hours.

The agenda of the school itself was Senior Checkout Day, where you went to your classes just to get the teachers’ signatures on a form that basically stated you’re a senior and you’ve passed your classes and you were very much welcome to get out of the school (in an honorable way—that is graduation). There were also yearbooks given (for those who bought them) and I had those signed around and I signed some yearbooks myself. I made use of this opportunity not only to take pictures with my dear teachers (and other school staff I wanted to take pictures with), but also to give them little Indo trinkets and some little thank-you cards I wrote for them. Same thing I did with my professors back in Seattle Central.

[let’s pretend I put here the pics with DJ, Ms. Shaw, Señor Cadenas, Ms. Harris, Coach Beavers, Ms. Yip, Ms. Wong, Jurdy, and Mr. Henderson because yours truly had lost 90% of her exchange experience pics gone from damaging her hard drive for good]

(…but here’s the thing! I was lucky to be able to have these pics of me and Ms. Street and Pierce and Tomchick preserved)

So the pose with Pierce was because he told us during one of our classes that he had always had the same pose for the yearbooks (and it was true—he showed us the yearbooks from before). And the pic with Tomchick because this guy was the one who inspired me to get those pair of The Scream socks. Tomchick had been the guy who wears wacky socks all the time—he would show us his socks every now and then—and I kid you not, I never again take socks for granted.

(of course, before this day, I made him wear The Scream socks for Senior Checkout Day so he would match mine and we could make this photo happen)

Wednesday, June 15:

Another thing that this week being the second-to-last week of my presence in Seattle and its everlasting glory of beautiful things, I, of course, had to take some time to shop (despite running out of luggage space). Among other things, I remember vividly buying two things: two shower curtains with printed illustration of a big world map and periodic tables (a request by my mom) from Bed Bath and Beyond, and a silicon ice cube tray in the shape of the US states (my utter hedonism) from Nordstrom Rack. I also hunted the waterfront and their antique shops for (more) wacky socks or simply looking around. In the evening, I took Karen and Eric watched Now You See Me 2 because I was a total groupie of the first movie. (Karen ended up giving bad reviews for the second one, and I agreed that the second one was a bit too much but I still loved it nonetheless ehehehehe)

Thursday, June 16: Comic Book Hunt Day 1 (of 2)

You see, what I had been doing with the way I acquire comic books was that I walked into the store, I looked around, saw anything I like and available, and bought them. Most of times the issues I bought weren’t in order because a) I was too late that they didn’t sell the early issues anymore, or b) the next issues hadn’t come yet. So, by the end of the exchange year, I have found myself with many comic books in the same series but with some issues missing here and there. However, I have found some issues bundled into volumes of 4-6 issues which had better paper quality altogether, though on the other hand it seemed like a bit of a waste because in some cases I already had 2, 3, even 4 issues on the volume. Buying a whole volume of 6 issues would fill me in with the 2 issues I hadn’t gotten, but that would also mean I used my money on 4 issues I’ve already had.

The days before today, in these last weeks of no more waiting, I’ve sorted all the Ms. Marvels that I owned then I listed the issues I haven’t had. Then, I’ve started on calling one comic bookstore I know, listing the issues I was looking for. This comic bookstore I called didn’t have all that I need, which led me to calling for another, and then another, and that was how I basically had several booked issues of Ms. Marvel comic books in different comic book stores all over the city.

Before I embarked on my first store to hunt, I stopped by Elliott Bay Bookstore, hanging out by myself. Elliott Bay Bookstore is the nearest bookstore from home, and it was the second-best bookstore I’ve ever visited (the first being downtown Seattle Barnes & Noble). However, what makes Elliott Bay Bookstore different from B&N was the homy feeling to it. The floors, shelves, and railings were of wood and you can see the vast first floor from the loft-ish second floor balcony. Under the second floor was a little café, and that was where I spent a few hours writing earlier entries of this blog.

(pics from the good and gracious interwebs)

Books and café. Such an ideal place.

After noon I went. My first target would be Phoenix Comics and Games by Seattle Central College, but, if I was not mistaken, they didn’t have any of the issues I was looking for. The next on the list was this store downtown that I’ve forgotten the name of (what I do remember is that it was the store from which Antonio gave me a $10 gift certificate for my birthday). It was pretty easy: I came in, told the shopkeeper I was the one on the phone and asked for a certain issue of Ms. Marvel, they went to the back room and came back with the item of quest, I paid, and I left (well, after some minutes of looking around because why not). Not much time to waste anyway, because I had planned to go to the zoo, now that the day was warm and sunny (compared to my first visit to the zoo when it was winter cold and most of the exhibits were closed anyway).

1 comic bookstore done, 2 more to go!

Friday, June 17: Comic Book Hunt Day 2 (of 2) and, well, Graduation

Ah, right.

I got too excited in telling you about my comic book hunt I almost forgot about graduation.

So we had the graduation ceremony this day in Memorial Stadium in Seattle Center Area. It was not until after lunch-ish so I still got time on my hands. I went to comic book store #2 and #3, respectively Golden Age Collectibles by the waterfront (this was the most complete comic book store by far. Complete as in it also had a whole lot of other geek stuff, like action figures—from regular-sized to life-sized—, really old comic books, and trading cards. All in mint condition) and, after looking around the store for a while, wasted no time and caught the bus straight to Wallingford area to Comics Dungeon.

I did my best, but at last I have satisfied my thirst for American comic books!

I didn’t spend a lot in there as I have other travel plans (squeezing as much agenda as I can in this short time I had left), so I caught the bus and went straight back south to the waterfront for the tourist attraction I haven’t had the chance to visit despite people going there all the time:

Yep. The infamous Seattle Gum Wall.

It was so amazing to the point it didn’t even look disgusting to me. The solo traveling situation got me in a bit of a difficulty taking pictures of myself, so I got a stranger to do it (and then the picture was gone anyway so what’s the point).

/looks at watch/ time to go back home, dress pretty, and off we went to Memorial Stadium to graduate!

You see, I would LOVE to brag to everyone how I graduated high school twice (one from RBHS and one from my original high school in Indo), but unfortunately, that was not the case.

Gretar and I weren’t given (rented?) togas. We also didn’t get any diploma. So all we would do in the event was to do what everyone else was doing, except for the toga-wearing and diploma-receiving part. All the seniors gather sporadically around the entrance of the stadium, all of them wearing togas. I did my best to dress nicely since I was not going to be wearing one. We did get some tassels and colorful necklaces, although I didn’t really know what they were for. The tassels were from the school, and I suppose they symbolize something like the class color or honor students or something—everyone had one but some had more than the others.

Oh another cool thing was that, as a celebration, some people got customized long necklaces from friends and/or family. Some were of flowers, but many of them—and I assume it’s the tradition around here—were of candies. I vaguely remember that people can buy them ready-made for this purpose, that’s why so many people had candy necklaces. Honestly, those are cooler than the flower ones since this one I can actually put to use after wearing them.

I didn’t have any graduation attribute aside from the tassels and necklaces, so I borrowed Jake’s grad cap just for a pic (that I lost). I do remember they were all like “you’re so cute!” with a grad cap without the robe, but I’m pretty sure that’s just me looking 5 years younger than all of RB seniors present.

We all filed in this one long single line from the tribunes and walked outside towards the field where all the chairs and the stage are. Later we found out we would be sitting on the stage, behind the podium and along with the faculties, and the other seniors would sit on chairs provided to them facing the stage. Families were seated on the bleachers of the stadium.

It wasn’t like it was a spotlight, because we were in the back of the stage anyway, and everyone was paying attention to whoever was speaking at the podium. Jurdy, teachers, et cetera. Ceremonially, we received the… case (?) for the diplomas, but of course with no diploma inside. Doesn’t matter. Still cool.

After graduation, I tagged along Gretar’s host family to Cheesecake factory for some big fat cake slices.

Saturday, June 18:

It was a beautiful chill Saturday. It was supposed to be the day of Summer Solstice Parade—which I had been dying to go to—but I had to give that a pass for a couple agendas: one, a visit to Jenny and Seth’s house, and two, Jake’s graduation party.

(a little spoiler of why I had wanted to go to the Solstice Parade: because people said it was hella fun, and a rare annual sighting of cyclists with 100% body paint and 0% clothing. I reckoned people might be a little bit taken aback had they known I was eager to go to the Solstice Parade for—imagine me saying this in my enthusiastic, 18-year-old self—“naked cyclists!” but at this point of time in the exchange year, who am I to care anymore)

It was basically a day of clashing agendas. Supposedly, after spending the time hanging out and watching Pitch Perfect 2 with Harper at Jenny and Seth’s, I could have gone to either of these three agendas: Jake’s grad party, Gretar’s grad party, or the Solstice Parade. Given that I will see Gretar at my own farewell party in the upcoming weekend, and I valued my formed friendships with people at Rainier Beach High School more than some naked strangers, I decided to go to Jake’s grad party at their house.

The party was a lot of fun. It wasn’t like a party party—we chilled in their backyard, having drinks and snacks, we played bocce, we played Cards Against Humanity (my first time ever playing it and boy I was hooked. Then I came back home to Indo to never play it again because it wasn’t sold here and if it did, it was hella expensive). The Seattle sky was gray and cloudy—what else is new?—but the cold and light drizzle was never in the way to stop us from having fun.

On the way home and afterwards, I look back at the friendships I’ve had at Rainier Beach—truthfully may not be a forever and well-maintained one, what with the distance and everyone’s doing their own thing after high school and me being bad at maintaining relationships in general—and I thought,

I obviously was not as outgoing as everyone else, and my other exchange student friends may have better experience, but hey, this was something worth being grateful for.

(besides, if I was not grateful, I would have nothing to hold on to anymore)

At least they had etched a good memory in my short 9 months, and the brief fun I had during that time will be something I’ll cherish forever. Not only for the exchange year in general, but also for my own character development. I was sure as hell that I would have a hard time finding friends—and I might have, at the start, but in the end I wasn’t that much miserable. In fact, I wasn’t miserable at all.

Anyway.

The last day of the week (June 19), the city of rain decided to be a little bit nicer this time. The sky was bright blue, splotches of white clouds here and there, all in all an exquisite day to take a ferry out to Bainbridge Island with Karen and her friend Jen. Not a lot of touristy places in Bainbridge Island—at one point I remembered us going to a cute little craft shop—and we’re back home by afternoon, in which I continued my way to Kira’s place for her good-bye party. Another fun evening party, hanging out with friends and family, wholesome conversations, photos taken, heartfelt hugs exchanged.

Like what a proper good-bye party would be like.

(also, it’s a little strange solely due to the fact that I will be having my own good-bye party the following week, during which I will see many of the same people in Kira’s, so more heartfelt content on my end can wait until then)

So, uh, hooray for the second-to-last week in the US, and therefore, second-to-last entry for this blog (excluding epilogue), I guess?

See you around.

Nabila Safitri

#langkahanakbangsa #school #rbhs #afs friends #fangirling life

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