Avid Lurker

[marcyapologist]

i hope to god capcom keeps this needless aurafarming in the code veronica remake

[charactersmashorpass-2]

"He was already hot in his 20s but holy FUCK is he even hotter now"

smash or pass: old man leon kennedy (resident evil 9)

smash

pass

Remaining time: 4 days 22 hours

[yviisxo]

rest in peace to this diva

[porterdavis]

[rederiswrites]

Just watched Adam Conover (of Adam Ruins Everything) make such a solid point that I think we should spread far and wide. Yes, having AI write your emails is lazy, sure, but people love being lazy. We need to really emphasize that sending AI emails (or using AI responses on social media, or publishing AI flyers, or or or) is rude.

It's rude. You're making someone take their time to read something you couldn't bother to write. You're telling them they were so unimportant you couldn't be bothered to actually take the time to say something yourself. And frankly, you're lying about it while you're at it.

It's rude.

[katsdom]

The above is doubly true if the content of the email is something that will be important to the person receiving - especially something that affects them negatively. They see that this thing that affected them so much didn't matter enough to you to write it yourself. I was a bystander to such a thing not long ago and it was just awful.

[junkfoodcinemas]

Enemy (2013) dir. Denis Villeneuve

[digitvlvom1t]

trusted companion <3

[20dollarlolita]

WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN HOBBY LOBBY

[amethystviolist]

[vympr]

i love reading sad books bc when your own grief is stopped up inside you like a clogged drain you can grieve for a character on a page and understand that you're also grieving for yourself a little bit

[petrichara]

‘There is a theory that watching unbearable stories about other people lost in grief and rage is good for you—may cleanse you of your darkness. Do you want to go down to the pits of yourself all alone? Not much. What if an actor could do it for you? Isn’t that why they are called actors? They act for you. You sacrifice them to action. And this sacrifice is a mode of deepest intimacy of you with your own life. Within it you watch [yourself] act out the present or possible organization of your nature. You can be aware of your own awareness of this nature as you never are at the moment of experience. The actor, by reiterating you, sacrifices a moment of his own life in order to give you a story of yours.’

-Anne Carson, ‘Grief Lessons: Four Plays By Euripides’

[bowlby4]

[holmesandtheroman]

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

[papayafromtv]

scenarios Alfred Pennyworth has to be a witness to as a resident of Wayne Manor that the batkids have absolutely no shame in front of whatsoever part 16 (masterpost here)

*Alfred bringing tea and a plate of biscuits down to the cave during a monthly mandatory strategy meeting, with Bruce stood at the head of a table all the kids are seated around*

Duke: i shouldn't even have to be here, i'm the only one on dayshift.

Jason: uh- i reject that; i'm doin' shit during the day too, y'know.

Duke, without missing a beat: that's because you're unemployed and have no civilian friends, there's a fucking difference Jason.

Dick: *covers his mouth, snickering*

Bruce: now, boys-

Jason: i will jump over this table, brightshit. try me.

Duke: *flips Jason off*

Jason, starting to get up: oh you want it-?

Alfred, pointedly putting the tray of snacks down in between them, giving them both warning glares: i trust that the meeting is going well?

*a beat*

Jason, sitting back down: dammit,

Bruce: *sigh* thank you, Alfred. now if we could just get back to-

Duke: i still don't want to be here.

Bruce: oh for- we've been over this, Duke. everybody has to attend these meetings.

Damian: just because you say something is mandatory doesn't mean it's actually necessary. it's subjective.

Bruce: it's not subjective, it's fact. if we don't take time to co-ordinate ourselves then we're more liable to miscommunicate and get ourselves, or others, hurt. it's important that we take this time to go over protocols and codes, as well as alert everybody of upcoming missions. it's not like you have anything better to do tonight, Damian.

Damian: what the hell,

Dick: oooh~

Damian: how dare you; i have plenty of ways to spend my evening, thank you very much-

Bruce, pinching the bridge of his nose: i didn't mean it that way, chum, can we just-

Damian: for starters, Drake and I have a new Lego set to construct, which you are selfishly taking time away from!

Steph, squinting across at Tim: sorry, you two build Lego sets together?

Tim: *defensive* what, mad that he doesn't play with you?

Steph, turning to Damian incredulously: well fucking yes?? dude- i ask you to hang out all the time. how come you'll play with Tim but not me!?

Damian, easily: because your version of hanging out is just dragging me all over Gotham while we stalk your English professor. i don't give a fuck which of the PA's he's hooking up with, Brown. i just want to build Lego.

Alfred: *watches with narrowed eyes as Cass slowly leans forward and drags the entire plate of biscuits towards herself*

Bruce: Damian, language.

Damian: me?!

Dick: fuck yeah, bring down the hammer, B.

Bruce, exhausted: can we all just-

Damian, planting his hands on the table: NO, WHY AREN'T YOU GETTING MAD WHEN THEY SWEAR?

Bruce: Damian- sit back down,

Jason, casually putting his feet on the table: it's 'cause you do it wrong, Dames. the curse word has to fall off the tongue comfortably, so that nobody even realises it shouldn't be in the sentence. *tipping his head up to show his mouth* you gotta- like this, roll your tongue slightly, just let it fall off, see: cunt.

Damian, copying: cunt.

Jason: cunt,

Damian: cunt.

Bruce, staring between the two in defeat: *makes eye contact with Alfred pleadingly*

Alfred: *shrugs*

Jason: cunt,

Damian: cunt, like that?

Jason: yeah, but in a sentence.

Damian: Dick Grayson is a cunt. like that?

Jason: yeah you got it.

Dick: WOAH WOAH- why am i catching strays? the fuck did i do?

Tim, flatly: if you hadn't fucked up the protocol code names three months ago, we wouldn't have to do these meetings.

Duke, pointing at Tim in agreement: that's true.

Dick: I WASN'T THE ONLY ONE, JACKASSES, STEPH DID IT TOO!

Steph: at least i was concussed. you're just an idiot.

Dick: *visibly offended* i'll have you know-

Bruce, snapping: ok that is IT. all of you sit back down, we are going over the current standing protocols and that is FINAL. none of you are leaving until i dismiss you, and if you don't comply then you will be benched for the foreseeable future, understood?

*silence*

*the kids awkwardly exchanging glances as they settle back down into their chairs*

Bruce, sighing in relief: finally. now, can we all-

Jason: *sticks his hand up in the air*

Bruce:

Bruce: *wary* what is it about, Jason?

Jason, innocently: i have a question about the protocols.

Bruce: ...go on then.

Jason: what's the protocol for when you let a call from your overbearing father go to voicemail because you're busy getting it on with Roy Harper mid-patrol, and then said overbearing father just hacks into your private com line mid-fuck anyway, completely ignoring your boundaries and throwing off the mood, all because he wanted to ask whether or not you'd prefer fish or chicken for the family barbeque that weekend?

*complete and utter silence*

Alfred: *stares in disappointment at a rapidly reddening Bruce*

Duke, grinning wildly as he looks between Bruce and Jason: has that ever happened?

Jason, flatly: three times.

Bruce:

Bruce:

Cass: *loudly crunches on biscuits*

Bruce: ok Jason you can go,

Jason, already leaping out his chair: SEE YOU SUCKERS-

Steph: WOAH- HOLD ON, HOLD ON-

Dick: THAT'S SO UNFAIR,

Duke: JUST BECAUSE HE'S A SLUT HE GETS TO AVOID THE MEETINGS?!

Bruce: -STOP SHOUTING AT ME-

Damian: so what i'm hearing is that to get out of these ridiculous things, i just have to tell Jon he's allowed to hit?

*silence*

Bruce, to Damian: ...ok you're grounded,

Tim: Steph, i know we broke up years ago and you're technically my sister now but i feel like this is for the greater good-

Steph: you and i have the same mind, Timmy-boy.

Bruce, distraught: NO-,

[dionysiaproductions]

[literary-sparks]

“Why don’t you use ai” idk man beyond the obvious environmental and “this machine causes psychosis and encourages people to kill themselves” thing I think asking the equivalent of a solid D student who is also a pathological liar if they can answer my question/do the work for me seems pretty fucking stupid

[stillnotsquashed]

Damian: Out of respect for the Robin name, I have been researching the person who originated it: Mary Grayson (nee Lloyd). Bruce: Oh, find anything good? Damian: Were you aware she had a criminal record? Bruce: Yes. Tim: Of course. I have a copy of it at home. Jason: I mean I didn't. But I'm not surprised. Damian: Why not? Jason: Because I've met her son. I imagine Mary Grayson was involved in every anti-authoritarian protest she came across on her travels. What I would be more interested in is learning exactly what Janet Drake was up to to create Master Stalker over there.

[papayafromtv]

mmmm immortal jason but he doesn't figure it out until after he rejoins the batfamily. and he's also really fucking chill about it.

he figures out he's gonna Keep Coming Back no matter what when Alfred asks him to help clean the roof and while alone scrubbing out gutters he fucks up and falls off the ladder; completely snaps his neck.

he wakes up like twenty minutes later all healed and instead of freaking out, he decides that he's been through so much shit and his life is already so goddamn weird that honestly? so what if he can't die.

still concerns the fuck out of the rest of the family when jason wanders in a few hours later rubbing out the crick in his neck and when bruce asks how the roof went he goes "yeah, gutters clean. also i think i fixed death?"

"...jason what could that possibly mean." dick asks from across the room. jason shrugs.

"I dunno. fixed it."

he continues to make vague-ass uncaring comments that baffle the fuck out of everybody for the next few weeks, and they don't figure out what the hell he's talking about until one patrol they get into one of those tricky 'locked in a room and have to pick one of you to die' situations and jason just whistles, goes "man this would suck if i hadn't already fixed death," and then proceeds to shoot himself in the face in front of all the horrified bats.

he wakes up fifteen minutes later to bruce and dick having a shared panic attack on the floor, tim desperately trying to calm them down, and damian standing over him looking supremely disappointed as he goes "fucking 'fixed death' todd?? that's the only way you could think of phrasing it? i thought your special interest was fucking literacy."

in his defence he never got to finish high school.

[whedonversegifs]