Just saw a post that had someone being catty and throwing around faggot derogatorily and I think some people gotta remember these are like. Slurs. Like it's fun to call myself a faggot cuz I am one but screaming it at someone I don't like isn't doing reclamation that's just. Being homophobic. We all know this right
like if I was unironically calling someone I didn't like a faggot tranny and the intent was clear then it's not being cute or funny or reclaiming it that's just being a massive dickhead. Like, I am a fag tranny myself and I wouldn't never fucking call someone that especially if I was trying to be bitter or rude. You all see this right. You sound like the kind of person that wants both of us dead.
next year james patterson is slapping his name on a book called "the secret lives of booksellers and librarians," which is real bold considering that every bookseller and librarian that i've met in my time as a bookseller and librarian absolutely loathes him. including me.
Okay, I feel the need to explain just why James Patterson is so hated by librarians.
See, it's not just that he writes mediocre, churned-out thrillers; there are many, many authors of mediocre, churned-out thrillers out there, he ain't special.
It's also not that he "writes" them with "coauthors" and slaps his name on them - again, this is not unique.
It's not even - though this is starting to get there- that he chases every publishing trend and creates His Version of everything from Diary of a Wimpy Kid to Nicholas Sparks, which nobody likes as well as they like his thrillers but still buy because they have His Name on them like a summoning charm.
No, what makes James Patterson uniquely loathed is the combination of the frequency of publication and his popularity. Because, to be honest, I'm not sure that anyone even likes his books anymore, but it doesn't matter, because if they have the James Patterson name on them then readers will be queuing up like zombies desperate for a fix of decaying cerebral matter. Which would be tolerable if he had the decency to only write one book a year like most other bestselling authors, but "James Patterson" (quotes VERY intentional) puts out roughly two books per month. So as a librarian, not only do you have to buy every new book James Patterson puts out, you have to buy multiple copies in order to fulfill demand. Somewhere around 5% of my fiction budget is spent ENTIRELY ON JAMES PATTERSON. Every new James Patterson that comes out means a dozen or more queer romances, inventive sci-fi novellas, unique cultural viewpoints, etc, etc that you can't buy because YOU HAVE TO BUY JAMES PATTERSON INSTEAD. (See also, you just weeded and shifted the Ps in fiction to make room and now it's full again oh god why.)
And the clincher - the absolute clincher - is the knowledge that the publishers will be "finding" "unfinished manuscripts" by "James Patterson" for a minimum of fifty years after his death, so even if some right-minded bibliophile with a claymore takes one for the team, we will never, ever be free.
Undercover Kagari having fun in a bar for the Psycho-Pass zine In Plain Sight @inplainsightpp
I imagine that Kagari would really enjoy playing pretend and getting to live a completely different life, especially one that allows him to let out his inner gremlin. Alcohol consumption optional and not advised!
for the @inplainsightpp zine, coming out later this month!
is this comic a bit out of left field to you? it's not so much for me! although, i couldn't have predicted that i'd have drawn and written something for it now.
but reality is, psycho-pass coincided with and then had a pretty big influence on a big story i had started writing in 2011. i actually only continued from s1 this year (after rewatching s1 of course) and am currently on s3 as of writing. back then, i had listened to everyone else who complained about s2. for all its flaws, and even now, i sincerely admire how psycho-pass tries to push its own themes and settings. the last time i got this feeling in recent years was when i watched the orb anime.
anyway, happy psycho-pass launch date! i hope y'all are excited for the zine itself 'cause i am! needless to say, everyone's made absolute bangers! but also because this zine my first one with the psycho-pass fandom and it's been a very refreshing and welcoming experience, i really, really, really hope whoever's out there will take a gander at what we've created!!!
in other news, i suppose i don't have to sign with -? anymore, not that i was doing it in the last few posts. because it's obvious who i am, right?
This was my submission for In Plain Sight: A Psycho-Pass Zine! Thank you @inplainsightpp for running this event, it was so much fun. Fic is under the cut, on FF.net, and AO3!
Summary: On his first undercover job with SAD, Ginoza unexpectedly encounters a familiar face. On her part, Mika is horrified that her table's waiter is her former subordinate.
Ginoza was tempted to clean his glasses, just to make sure he was seeing correctly. But these didn’t have his old lenses, that he’d last used five years ago; the fragile exterior was recording the gala and its host, the head of a company exporting to the mainland.
“Well, even if this is your first solo undercover job, it should be simple enough.” Hanashiro’s introductory words were damning in hindsight. “President Shoriki’s pouring embezzled funds out of the country, so let’s start with identifying his contacts.”
The plan was to serve Shoriki’s table and cause a minor spill, creating the opportunity to bug him. Since Ginoza scored highest in the simulation at SAD headquarters, he was the mission pick. He’d cut his long hair and let his bangs fall over his forehead, and when he looked in the mirror, he had a lurching flashback to that same appearance except with an Inspector’s jacket. He immediately turned on the Holo of the establishment’s standard for waitstaff: a white button-down shirt, a charcoal waistcoat, hemmed trousers, and black leather loafers. Kougami had outright laughed, the bastard, and Sugo mildly said that he pulled off the part. Passable for strangers, sure.
But I don’t think she will be convinced…
Ginoza was about to make an excuse, to leave the kitchen and contact the team, but instead, he was ordered to deliver the menus. Grimacing, he stepped into the dining area. He passed the timed flicker of flameless candles, the walls projecting a romanticized garden, and the quartet of musicians playing a serene melody. His focus was solely on the people at his table, and he reviewed who they were, with one last correction.
There was the president, with his iron hair and beard, in a black suit and bowtie. Next to him was his wife, wearing a sage green dress and a dour expression. Their son, who was fiddling with his golden cufflinks. The elderly vice president was in brown corduroy and his third wife stood out in her jewel-toned ballgown. She was closer in age to his grandson, Shoriki’s nervous secretary, whose half-rimmed glasses matched his fiancé’s. She was in the next chair, her hands folded in her light blue skirt. The last seat should have been occupied by the heiress of a shipping company, an obvious matchmaking attempt for the younger Shoriki.
Instead, there was a familiar face. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, with a gilded ribbon. Unusually, she had foundation concealing her freckles and dark lines sweeping above her eyes. Her pale pink evening gown had embroidered flowers, cascading from her shoulders to the cinching of her amber-colored sash. And of course, she just had to be sitting opposite the president, although her stare was firmly fixed on her water glass.
So, Shimotsuki didn’t see him approach.
Ginoza passed behind each chair, explaining the dinner courses in a brisk monotone. No voice modulator either, but perhaps, she wouldn’t notice…? Then, her ponytail shifted as she curiously peered at him. He pushed up his glasses, as he replied to Shoriki’s wife.
“Yes, that’s right.” And in a point of weakness, he glanced at Shimotsuki. Her expression had contorted into horrified recognition, and any lingering hope died. What exactly about that tipped her off?!
Nobody else had seen the lapse in composure, but now, he really had to go. As he pivoted, she announced. “Excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”
Taking the hint, he waited in a nearby alcove. Although the circumstance was unexpected, it was admittedly funny to see her rose-colored figure march towards him, like a princess whose crown had been stolen. He inclined his head. “Good evening.”
“What are you doing here?!” She hissed.
“I was thinking the same of you. I wasn’t aware you’d be attending, and under your real name.”
“As if I wanted to! The other girl got sick with gastritis, so Sensei asked me.”
“Sensei?”
“The woman with the glasses. She was my literature teacher at Ousou Academy.” She crossed her arms. “But I asked you first.”
“I can’t share everything, but the person of interest is President Shoriki.” He provided the bare minimum, as much as he was permitted. “What have you heard?”
Shimotsuki pressed her lips together. “Nothing about money, but…a few society wives acting off, like they were sedated with mild hallucinations, while attending parties held at the Shoriki estate. I might as well record the table conversation.” She activated her wristlink, now in a matching rose-gold.
“Thank you, that’d be helpful.” And he meant it.
“I’m doing it so you won’t hover and be more suspicious.” She retorted, and he suppressed a smile. “So, how do I alert you?”
“It’s alright. I still remember your number.” He confirmed it with a quick message, and she was visibly surprised.
“Oh…good.” Then, she cleared her throat and turned. “You go first, you’re actually working.”
He didn’t argue, but couldn’t resist a parting question. “How’s Unit 1?”
She flashed a baleful look. “Emptier. Do you have any news about Senpai?”
“...No. Unfortunately not.”
“I’m not surprised. Just tell me when there is.” However, her voice possessed an undercurrent of worry.
And after so long, his response was habitual. “Understood.”
***
Mika was insanely bored.
Sensei was pleasant, but her attention was pulled towards her fiancé and Shoriki’s wife, who had biting advice about marriage. The other married couple wasn’t better, the vice president already dozing. His wife, flaunting the pastel dress code, seemed to relish the disdain from other guests. Chikaru, the Shoriki heir, needed to be prompted to talk to Mika. She desperately wanted to shoot down his feeble small talk, but forced politeness for the sake of information.
It wasn’t like she was impressed; it was just another frivolous party, in a long parade that spanned her childhood. Since she left her family home, she’d never missed this lifestyle.
Her gaze strayed inevitably to Ginoza, clearing their appetizer remnants. His left hand barely moved, to prevent any accidental touches. She moved her empty soup bowl to the edge of the tablecloth, for him to easily access.
He gave a deferential nod. “Thank you, miss.” But the corner of his mouth twitched. She shot a glare at his departing back.
And then, her knife was too dull. She valiantly sawed at her quail, irritated by Ginoza’s presence silently moving around and refilling their glasses. Damn him, he was saving her for last.
“Excuse me, do you need a replacement?”
Begrudgingly, she replied. “Yes, please.” Without thinking twice, they swapped the knives. A quick and clean transfer, muscle memory developed over long cases.
“That was smooth.” Sensei’s fiancé noted as he raised his glass.
Sensei agreed. “You’ve become adept through your work.”
Mika hastily deflected. “Ousou taught me well.” There was a scoff from her other side, which sounded like the idiot beside her. When she spared a look, however, he was preoccupied with a game on his wristlink. She hoped her own caught something in this rotten mess.
Profiteroles were the meal’s finale, and she tensed in anticipation, when the spotlight unduly fell upon her. President Shoriki stated. “So, you work for the Ministry of Welfare.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And do you plan to stay there? The public’s been disturbed by the recent scandal.”
“That’s a matter we’re continuing to investigate, but trust will be restored.” She coolly responded.
“Oh!” The vice president’s wife exclaimed. “You ran onstage before the live video was cut.”
Mika was clasping her hands together so tightly, her fingertips were going numb. “I’m surprised you were watching so closely, Tokuda-san.”
“There are enough Tokudas here, I’m Tsumugi.” She said dismissively. Her husband, who was now awake, either didn’t hear or was choosing not to hear. In the periphery, Sensei’s fiancé nervously downed his water. Sensei glanced pitifully at Mika; she actually felt sorrier for her former teacher. Tsumugi resumed. “But back to President Shoriki’s question. Why do you want to stay at such a place, when its own leader isn’t safe?”
“I believe in the work I do.” Her answer was succinct and honest. She was saved from further explanation, by the splash of Ginoza’s interruption.
It was actually convincing, how he ‘accidentally’ knocked over the vice president’s glass. Shoriki stood to avoid the spill, and Ginoza apologized as he wiped the puddle. There was the brief touch on Shoriki’s pocket as he helped the man resettle in his chair. He spun on his heel; that was it, and he’d disappear.
Shoriki headed out when the music swelled to an opening waltz. But not even a minute later, someone else did too. She followed Sensei’s line of sight to her fiancé, hurrying past the door. So did Mika, it made sense for the secretary to follow his boss’s money-
She halted, gaping at the swinging door of the men’s restroom. Seriously?! Gritting her teeth, she had to admit defeat. She messaged Ginoza. Secretary’s in the men’s room, can’t you go in?
However, the reply was a call. Ginoza’s hushed voice intermingled with static. “That’s not where the bug is. It’s in the coat room.”
Simultaneously, two things occurred. The secretary emerged, looking significantly relieved and tucking his shirt. All that water drinking, she realized. Then, red-violet fabric flashed in the lobby below, rippling in the direction of the coat room. Just one person wore such a flagrant color tonight.
“Tsumugi.” She hissed.
“Excellent, you spotted her.” That was definitely nearby, and she whirled around. Ginoza nodded towards her, then downstairs. “I missed her leaving. Is she having an affair with the president?”
“I genuinely couldn’t tell.” They ducked into a blind spot, blocked by a marble pillar. Then, Tsumugi emerged, her heels rapidly clicking.
Ginoza frowned. “The bug’s reporting Shoriki’s vitals dropped. As if he’s in REM sleep…or drugged.”
“Like those society wives. I can’t let her escape!”
“You’ll need evidence to justify a Dominator.”
“And we know who can help.”
After the third ring, Hinakawa tremulously asked. “H-hello…?”
“Good, you’re still up. Here’s my location, are there scanners linked to the garage cameras? Flag any abnormal Hues.”
He rewound the footage. “It’s not much…there’s a spike but still within normal. This woman, when she’s helping an old man out of their car.” He sent the video; the vice president and his wife were instantly recognizable. “A-actually, the scanners just picked up the woman again, but her Hue is c-clouding more…she’s closest to the south exit.”
Ginoza loomed over her shoulder. “Good work, Hinakawa-kun.”
That thump sounded like he’d fallen over. “Ginoza-san…?!”
“Quickly, Hinakawa!” Mika insisted. “I need a drone with a Dominator.”
“G-got it. But w-why is Ginoza-”
“It’s a coincidence. How long until the drone?”
“Five minutes.”
“That’ll do. Thanks.” She hung up. “Let’s go!”
But Ginoza shook his head. “I have no jurisdiction over domestic arrests.”
Her stomach dropped. “I see.”
His smile was strangely bittersweet. “Go on, Shimotsuki. My priority is making sure someone finds Shoriki. Call if you need backup.”
“That won’t happen. I refuse to be responsible for blowing your cover.” She grabbed her skirt and broke into a run.
It was a miracle she didn’t trip on the emergency stairs. She planted her feet in front of the exit, shouting at Tsumugi’s stumbling figure. “Public Safety Bureau! You’re under arrest!”
She faltered but mockingly laughed. “For what reason?”
“Drugging your affair partner, among others.”
“We were using each other anyway, I wanted a cut of his money and he wanted his ego stroked. Like all business arrangements.” She tilted her head at Mika. “You could’ve been my customer, like other Ousou alumni. So many women, in what they believed were perfect matches. Then, they find out their strings were pulled for the family company, and come crying to me…all I do is soothe them.”
“You take advantage of them.”
“Their fathers and grandfathers already take advantage of us!” Tsumugi suddenly screamed, and Mika tried not to flinch. “Treating us like trophies and playthings until we’re too old, discarding us if their Hues change. I take some of it back. Don’t I deserve that much?”
Inevitably, Mika thought of the fixed smiles and furtive whispers in her mother’s parlor. The things done for family, success, reputation. “It’s true, you were treated unfairly. Even in this age, unforgivable things happen…that’s why justice exists. But you committed a crime and hurt other people instead. So, it’s not me, but Sibyl will tell you what you deserve.”
Right on time, the drone zoomed inside the garage. The Dominator snapped into position, and she took hold, watching Tsumugi’s shrill breakdown through the blue film of judgment.
Crime Coefficient 295. Enforcement Mode is Non-Lethal Paralyzer.
And Mika believed in the work she did.
***
Ginoza followed the bug’s movements, the slow pace of Shoriki’s family dragging him to bed. Then, he switched to the cracking mode and it latched onto Shoriki’s wristlink, copying the data. Overnight, everything would be transmitted to SAD. He discreetly used the building’s blind spot and turned off the uniform Holo; his slim black clothes were suitable for his ride, a motorbike a block away in an empty lot.
Except, it wasn’t empty. A Public Safety Bureau car’s front window rolled down, and Shimotsuki called out. “Did you get what you needed?”
“Yes, thanks to your help.” Then, he noticed she was still in the pink gown. “You weren’t wearing a Holo?”
“This is a real dress! Any socialite buys outfits for these occasions.”
“I hope you can keep it. You look fashionable.”
She snorted. “Well, it’s probably the last time you’ll see me in it, or maybe at all. You have different priorities now.”
He saddled the motorbike but paused. “You can reach out any time.”
“And why would I bother you at your new job?”
“Because I know what it’s like, to be the one left behind.” He simply said.
He’d been in her place, watching his partner dive into the abyss and then both Kogami and Tsunemori hurtling on a separate path while he struggled to maintain control. This time, he’d chosen the risk as well, and although it was a decision he’d make again, he saw the same pain reflected in Shimotsuki’s eyes. The feeling of abandonment was suffocating, a slow toxin to a person’s Psycho-Pass.
The wise learned from history, after all. Ginoza wouldn’t let the mistakes of the past be repeated again.
“Will you get in trouble for making contact outside SAD?”
“I won’t. Regardless of what it is, I’ll answer as soon as I can.”
She stared at him, until abruptly, her head jerked aside and she hastily wiped at her eyes. “Okay. Then, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Until later.” He echoed, watching her drive away before putting on his helmet. His undercover work had ended, but the data was next, as was his formal report tomorrow. And his ultimate purpose extended beyond this mission.
Still, as he navigated the vacant streets towards SAD, his mind naturally retraced the route to Unit 1.
yes yes tsc gave us jerejean bonding and snarky Neil but we need to talk about Catalina Alvarez and Jean.
her kissing his shoulder and forehead and saying, you're a good man Jean Moreau. her teaching Jean to cook and him finding one of his first true comforts in spending hours cooking with her. Jean pushing about going to the court and Cat saying, patience, babe. Jean getting flustered and Cat saying, sometimes I forget you're just a kid. Cat getting pissed about the Ravens and memorizing and recounting the exact injuries that they gave Jean. Cat taking Jean for a ride to one of her favorite places to share the comfort with him. Cat giving him shells on the beach. Jean watching Cat dance with so much joy and freedom and thinking, Friends.
also can we TALK about how the first time Jean really self-confronts his belief in the Ravens’ punitive system of ‘improving’ players in TGR it’s because Cat deadass asks him if he wants to hit her when she messes up at practice and the thought actually makes him crash out so hard he instinctively checks her for injuries
their best friend development is so important to me.
the last time neil ever lets himself get really really drunk post tkm is the first time he stumbles into the house after a night at eden's and goes to the bathroom, then stumbles to andrew's room in the dark after lowkey falling asleep for a bit while standing up in the shower. he climbs into bed, mildly and drunkenly surprised when andrew turns right on over without a word and promptly snuggles up to him, very very clingy about it, and it's rare for andrew to full-on cuddle him like that, especially without even saying something first, but damn is he warm and it feels so nice and neil is so sleepy, so he just settles in with a dreamy sigh and knocks the fuck out until morning. as soon as he opens his eyes when he wakes up, the first thing he sees is andrew sitting next to the bed in a chair, eating a bowl of cereal, staring at him blankly, and neil smiles bc of course he does, only to belatedly realize there are two andrews, one who is spooning him and one who is watching him be spooned, which is when it becomes apparent that aaron was so drunk he got in the wrong bed and neil was so drunk that he crawled into bed with him. neil is horrified, aaron screams as soon as he wakes up to find neil josten laying all over him, and andrew finds it all very entertaining. neil and aaron can't look each other in the eye for weeks after that. neither of them ever talk about it, but andrew on the other hand brings it up whenever he wants to annoy them. long-term effects are good though. aaron gets a sign to put on his door so he will always know which room is his, neil never lets himself get that drunk ever again, and andrew starts cuddling neil more often so that it's his pair of arms neil is always crawling into.
We are so excited to share the previews for the art, writing and manga featuring in In Plain Sight! Be sure to check out our full release this month for the complete pieces, everyone has worked so hard and we can’t wait to show you what’s been cooking~! 🧠
whump is such a strange thing for me. ‘oh im having trouble shouldering the burdens of daily life, let me play scenes in my head of someone getting the shit kicked out of them (fictionally), that’ll make me feel better’ and it DOES
those kinktober rules banning dubcon or noncon fic but allowing cnc roleplay so long as the kink negotiation and aftercare is on screen is so funny to me. cnc roleplay but i morally disagree with noncon so we roleplay two people discussing and having cnc roleplay but within that roleplay of the roleplay we have to include a kink negotiation and discussion but to not be immoral there has to be discussion of the kink within the roleplay of the roleplay of the roleplay but in order to keep that above board we have to
not to explain the joke here but what's funny to me about this is that noncon fic is essentially the same as noncon roleplay, and the explicit consent is that the writer tags the fic with what you're going to find in there and the reader goes ok! and clicks on it.
I've always said this even though I don't go in this fandom. I said this in general.
Darkfic, all sorts of kinky fic in general, is the SAFEST possible way to kink role-play without any real risk. Because it doesn't involve real people. Doesn't require any additional safety because you can't always just stop reading.
(affirming myself in the mirror) if that fictional man was real he would fuck you. He would fuck you. You're his exact type. If he saw you he'd get a boner instantly. He would fuck you he would fu
