#I fear that these will look terrible on mobile

[canisalbus]

Stress management Machete doodles.

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 6/?

Thank you for the cake and the art and your crazy tags♡♡ you feed me so well so here's some more words!!

Lets see how many of you guest right, lol, they're both stupid, I love them.

__________________________________

A group walking down the corridor on the other side of the glass before six a.m was unusual. And given the volume and rapid chatter, something had either excited them or had them nervous. But when one stopped to peer through the window, looking for Prowl – they would not see him, he refused to be gawked at – there was a possibly it had something to do with him.  

Prowl suspected that if that was the case, his mobility played a key part. The humans had been more skittish since he had first left the hammock yesterday. Their fear was not misplaced, with the returned ease of swimming, his threat value had more than doubled.  

While he would not act unless pressed – as it would be wasted effort with the current situation – Prowl was not completely against whatever illusion that the humans had of him. Let them fear him. It would keep most away and leaving fewer for him to deal with; those brave or stupid enough to still come near him. 

The elated shout of Jazz that came from beyond the wall drew in his attention. Prowl sighed softly, recalling the current state of the language barrier. What he wouldn't give for a stylus and a data-pad. Even a simple drawing one would suffice. 

He didn't get to linger in dismay as he heard Jazz swim by, but not stay. The view port on the gate was still shut from yesterday so maybe Jazz had just come to check if they would open it? But then he came by again a few seconds later, and then again.  

Swimming laps. But was it excitement or anxiety?  

Prowl silently approached the gate and rested his forehead against it, listening. The body of water on the other side was much bigger, that much he already knew, but most of the walls and floors of this place were like stone, leaving empty spaces all over his vision. Places sound bounced off of, but didn't pass through.  

Metal wasn't necessarily any better, but it tended to reverberate; depending on its composition, and if one was skilled enough, you could see what was beyond or within the metal.  

But the gate was metal, and Prowl was that skilled. Tuning his sonar with careful precision, he eventually found the frequency that gave him the best image.  

Inside, it was primarily hollow, with large connecting rods and cylinders leading to alien machinery that was too complex to make out with outside noise causing glitch-like distortions across what he could see. But the guts of the wall weren't his goal currently. 

Outside was where he drew in his focus. Towards the centre he could very faintly see Jazz as he circled. His sonar images may be in terrible quality, but Prowl had become quite familiar with the other orca's particular blob. It was like watching something move from darkness to light or adjusting the contrast of an image. Jazz was bright and his silhouette shape clearly a mer when he was close, while dim and barely a lopsided oval when he was far.  

He was tempted to calculate the distance and overall, the space Jazz was swimming, but – to the right he had picked up on a platform. One that more and more humans seemed to be gathering on. At first, Prowl was worried that the other mer might be in danger, but after a few more laps Jazz approached and waited at the edge. 

For a few minutes, nothing changed. Until Jazz moved to somewhere in the middle, almost straight out from the gate, and the humans began to spread out. Something was up and Prowl kept searching and listening for anything that might give him insight.  

Till the screeching hiss of the machine attached to the gate suddenly came to life, causing Prowl to recoil. Losing his sonar temporarily as he worked through the noise. It was like a camera flash that blinded you for a second, only this one was a flash against your mind and a bang in your ears at the same time. But Prowl was used to ambushes and this certainly wasn't the worst sonar attack he's experienced, so this wouldn't hinder him, it was just annoying. 

Pressing himself against the floor and the wall out of view of the door, he waited. After the passageway had slid completely open, Prowl remained only for an extra moment, just long enough to tell that nothing was coming. Then he cautiously moved to investigate. 

With the recovery of his sonar and the obstacle removed, Prowl sent a few quick clicks to pinpoint all the humans. There were seven he could find, though there could be more outside his currently limited range. A poorly laid out ambush regardless, if that was the plan, and chances were very low – seeing as the humans were providing him with medical treatment, they clearly wanted him alive – but it wasn't zero. Prowl really didn't want to fight at this stage of his imprisonment, firstly; his wounds still posed a risk to his overall survival, secondly; he needed to gather more information before he could put together a plan of escape.  

When Jazz waved at him, Prowl resigned to the fact that he – or perhaps they – were being closely monitored and there was nothing that could be done about it. So, for now, he would resume gaining an ally, or at the very least a cooperative collaborator. The other captive orca remained at the top of his priority list for making any future plans have greater odds of success. Working out the communication issue aside, he needs this 'first meeting' to go properly and smoothly before anything else could proceed.  

And it looked as though the audience had Jazz tense and on the defensive. Nothing a little show of reassurance of Prowl as an ally couldn't remedy surely. 

So, Prowl approached with an appropriate speed for closing the distance between an acquaintance, with his arms set at a relaxed, yet polite place along his sides. When he stood before Jazz, he made sure to keep a respectable space, posed with and holding a practised expression of polite professionalism. Choosing to have his most vulnerable side forward in a grand gesture of trust, further expressing that he had no intentions of bringing him harm. 

He anticipated a moment of hesitance, allowing Jazz the time to observe him, to look for signs of deceit. But when his roaming eyes became fixed on his wounded flank, admiration showing in his expression, Prowl flicked his tail for Jazz's attention. Prowl wouldn't look too deep into it, but past experience made him keep note. 

Jazz showed that he was at least slightly embarrassed – good – but when he did not make a move to greet Prowl with the same gesture of goodwill. Continuing to face him head on had Prowl now searching for signs of what his intention were. But while he did, Prowl began to express slight irritation, in hopes the other would cease and desist.  

The other mer reacted by rising and Prowl tensed. Jazz must have had trust issues from past bad experiences if he was attempting to intimidate him with the present state of their body. Where he had been found gravely wounded, Jazz must had been found starving… Or there was the very slight chance that he had recently hit his last growth spurt and he was just a lanky cocksure young adult wanting to show-off. 

Jazz quickly paused, pointing and waving for Prowl to follow. Obviously wanting to move to the surface to speak. Fine.  

But then he smiled, and not in a friendly way, no, this one was clearly practised. Smooth, confident, and forward. Prowl had dealt with plenty of celebrities and politicians to know what a charming smile looks like, and very aware it was an illusion of friendliness to lure or entertain. Cocky youth had adjusted from 'very slight' to 'likely'. So, Prowl readied for a foolish game of posturing. 

{Sorry, Prowler.} Was the first thing out of his mouth and his smile diminished to a more acceptable nature.  

Good, Prowl thought at first, maybe Jazz had realized that he would not sway Prowl. However, Jazz still refused to back down, flaunting confidence with lax posture. Speaking in an almost gentle reassurance, {it's okay. Prowler, it's okay.} 

Then everything started coming together – prolonged staring, hints of interest, slight embarrassment, insistent forward facing, too friendly of smiles aimed at a stranger – and the almost certain likelihood of Jazz's youth. Prowl was both irritated and bewildered at his own conclusion; Jazz was flirting with him. 

Primus, he wanted to be wrong. But… nothing else made sense about Jazz's behaviour! 

Not wanting this nonsense to continue, Prowl kept his formal disposition of his side facing Jazz and backed off just enough to show refusal, but not a sign of submission. Prowl firmly said, {no.} 

{Wait! I —– } Jazz started to approach.  

{Stop,} he said as his scowl had grown into a harsh glare and he quickly turned his body to face him fully, but didn't back away. {trying okay.} 

Jazz did stop his advance. Though now apparently, they were locked in some sort of stare down. How else could he express his rejection without this braking out into a physical confrontation? 

Again, Jazz moves, this time slowly opening his arms to boldly offer a hug and still keeping a steady friendly smile. Like he's asking for a chance. But was only baffling Prowl further. Why are you so instant? 

" 'tzz." He said, the other mer's name was still difficult to pronounce, but he wanted to be clear. Speaking with a warning as he readied to strike. It wouldn't be the first time a pursuer needed a smack to take a hint. But Prowl really didn't want to fight. {Stop.}  

Jazz was back to rambling in the human's language, his tone was wavering between calm and frustration. But when he pulled away; after his words had done nothing to change Prowl's stance, Jazz squared up. 

Prowl did not hesitate and made a clean charge to Jazz's chest, forcing them both under.  

While Jazz recoiled and darted away to collect himself. Prowl rolled his shoulder in discomfort. The impact had still jostled his injuries, but it had been the best option. Biting would have been taking it too far, using even his right arm would have been agonizing, and spinning around to use his tail would have allowed Jazz time to react. No, this was good enough.  

Or so he thought when he returned to Jazz to see if he was willing to be respectful of the situation. While Prowl was willing to try and start anew with a mutual understanding, side-ways faced and still offering trust with showing his wounded side.  

Jazz looked upset, understandably so as that harsh of a rejection was never pleasant. But this language barrier was really getting in the way. He was speaking human words again, irritation clear in his voice. But then he took a deep breath and started slinking towards him. Still openly refusing Prowl's offer of peaceful intentions. 

And... now we've come down to a battle for dominance. Wonderful. Prowl had a slight bit of respect for the other's determination in not wanting to submit when clearly out matched, but this was hardly the time nor the place. Prowl fixed Jazz with a glare, promising punishment as he started to plan out his attacks that would not cause too much pain, but enough to humble the punk. 

{Please, Prowler, stop.} 

Gladly, but you first. {No, you stop, ['tzz.]}  

He did, {what,} but not without pointing back and forth between them, {why?} 

WHY!? 

Despite his mounting frustration of being unable to explain or even have Jazz possibly clear things up on his end as well. Prowl did his best to make it as physically clear as he could by returning to the calm request and offer to have no ill intentions between them, that they can be on equal ground. He even went as far as to break eye contact and look away, just in case that was feeding into his miscommunication with Jazz. 

{Prowler,} Jazz sighed, calling out to him softly, and daring to inch closer.  

Prowl tensed; he had tolerated that nickname due to his own inability to say Jazz's properly. But him using it– using it like that was–  

That was not– I'm not submitting to you, you punk!  

Bristling, Prowl twisted and lunged for the other mer. Only clipping him this time, but was swift with a sharp turn to follow through with his earlier threat. And Jazz tried and failed to escape him. Charge after charge, Prowl battered him with carefully made strikes. Making it clear that when he stopped and let Jazz get away, that he had allowed it to happen.  

When he met Jazz on the surface once more. Prowl remained facing him head on, silently asking if he wanted another round of showing just how out of his league he really was. Regardless if that kind of movement put strain on his healing body, that he could feel the sharp pull of new tissues fighting against the flex of muscle. He could probably get away with a few more attacks before something popped open. 

{Please, Prowler. Please, stop.} Jazz begged. 

But Prowl waited to see if Jazz was being honest about putting this to an end. After a minute of neither of them making a move. Prowl once again turned so his side face Jazz and this time Jazz mirrored him.   

Prowl then gave a loud breath of relief and laid down to float on his back. Finally! No more idiotic posturing.  

Jazz also followed him in releasing the tension and floating, though he looked humiliated. 

Good, you should be embarrassed. 

__________________________________

I hope you found this as funny as I did. XD And now that the boys can be in the same pool, it's time for bonding and shenanigans!! >:3c

Prowl: doing everything by the book and reading into every micro expression to aim for the best results.

Jazz: trying to restrain his overflowing excitement and desire to make a friend. (but also has a budding crush) be cool, be cool OuO;;

Prowl: sees Jazz's not-so-hidden excitement and desire. what – here – right now – but also why? … sigh, you're just a shameless flirt aren't you? :/

IS IT really a jp fic if they aren't– Check List ✔ Arguing at least once ✔ Fighting at least once ✔ Jazz being an absolute flirt (unintentional currently, but still counts!) ✔ Prowl greatly misunderstanding a situation with Jazz at least once

Also, I've seen the pleas of the lovely readers!! I will post this fic on ao3 in the next day or so. But since this is my gift to my platonic love ♡♡♡Keferon♡♡♡ updates will be delivered here first.

Until you want me to stop dropping the fic in your inbox♡ -GLC

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WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE oh my god they're fucking stupid ahahajjakfkfmgndb

I was wroNG ahaha I was completely wrong. Jazz wasn't saying "fuck you" in the last part it was "let's fuck" /j

To be fair. If I was held captive with the other random human and they greeted me by staring at my ass and then enthusiastically approaching despite me showing that I'm not okay with them flirting with me? Yeah no I completely understand Prowl haha.

Also. This isn't directly related to this part but. Sigh. I made some doodles of Blaster after reading the previous part and then.uh. completely forgot to show them. So I guess I'll throw them here now lol

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Your car spies on you and rats you out to insurance companies

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (Mar 13) in SAN FRANCISCO with ROBIN SLOAN, then Toronto, NYC, Anaheim, and more!

Another characteristically brilliant Kashmir Hill story for The New York Times reveals another characteristically terrible fact about modern life: your car secretly records fine-grained telemetry about your driving and sells it to data-brokers, who sell it to insurers, who use it as a pretext to gouge you on premiums:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/11/technology/carmakers-driver-tracking-insurance.html

Almost every car manufacturer does this: Hyundai, Nissan, Ford, Chrysler, etc etc:

https://www.repairerdrivennews.com/2020/09/09/ford-state-farm-ford-metromile-honda-verisk-among-insurer-oem-telematics-connections/

This is true whether you own or lease the car, and it's separate from the "black box" your insurer might have offered to you in exchange for a discount on your premiums. In other words, even if you say no to the insurer's carrot – a surveillance-based discount – they've got a stick in reserve: buying your nonconsensually harvested data on the open market.

I've always hated that saying, "If you're not paying for the product, you're the product," the reason being that it posits decent treatment as a customer reward program, like the little ramekin warm nuts first class passengers get before takeoff. Companies don't treat you well when you pay them. Companies treat you well when they fear the consequences of treating you badly.

Take Apple. The company offers Ios users a one-tap opt-out from commercial surveillance, and more than 96% of users opted out. Presumably, the other 4% were either confused or on Facebook's payroll. Apple – and its army of cultists – insist that this proves that our world's woes can be traced to cheapskate "consumers" who expected to get something for nothing by using advertising-supported products.

But here's the kicker: right after Apple blocked all its rivals from spying on its customers, it began secretly spying on those customers! Apple has a rival surveillance ad network, and even if you opt out of commercial surveillance on your Iphone, Apple still secretly spies on you and uses the data to target you for ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Even if you're paying for the product, you're still the product – provided the company can get away with treating you as the product. Apple can absolutely get away with treating you as the product, because it lacks the historical constraints that prevented Apple – and other companies – from treating you as the product.

As I described in my McLuhan lecture on enshittification, tech firms can be constrained by four forces:

I. Competition

II. Regulation

III. Self-help

IV. Labor

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

When companies have real competitors – when a sector is composed of dozens or hundreds of roughly evenly matched firms – they have to worry that a maltreated customer might move to a rival. 40 years of antitrust neglect means that corporations were able to buy their way to dominance with predatory mergers and pricing, producing today's inbred, Habsburg capitalism. Apple and Google are a mobile duopoly, Google is a search monopoly, etc. It's not just tech! Every sector looks like this:

https://www.openmarketsinstitute.org/learn/monopoly-by-the-numbers

Eliminating competition doesn't just deprive customers of alternatives, it also empowers corporations. Liberated from "wasteful competition," companies in concentrated industries can extract massive profits. Think of how both Apple and Google have "competitively" arrived at the same 30% app tax on app sales and transactions, a rate that's more than 1,000% higher than the transaction fees extracted by the (bloated, price-gouging) credit-card sector:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/07/curatorial-vig/#app-tax

But cartels' power goes beyond the size of their warchest. The real source of a cartel's power is the ease with which a small number of companies can arrive at – and stick to – a common lobbying position. That's where "regulatory capture" comes in: the mobile duopoly has an easier time of capturing its regulators because two companies have an easy time agreeing on how to spend their app-tax billions:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/

Apple – and Google, and Facebook, and your car company – can violate your privacy because they aren't constrained regulation, just as Uber can violate its drivers' labor rights and Amazon can violate your consumer rights. The tech cartels have captured their regulators and convinced them that the law doesn't apply if it's being broken via an app:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

In other words, Apple can spy on you because it's allowed to spy on you. America's last consumer privacy law was passed in 1988, and it bans video-store clerks from leaking your VHS rental history. Congress has taken no action on consumer privacy since the Reagan years:

https://www.eff.org/tags/video-privacy-protection-act

But tech has some special enshittification-resistant characteristics. The most important of these is interoperability: the fact that computers are universal digital machines that can run any program. HP can design a printer that rejects third-party ink and charge $10,000/gallon for its own colored water, but someone else can write a program that lets you jailbreak your printer so that it accepts any ink cartridge:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Tech companies that contemplated enshittifying their products always had to watch over their shoulders for a rival that might offer a disenshittification tool and use that as a wedge between the company and its customers. If you make your website's ads 20% more obnoxious in anticipation of a 2% increase in gross margins, you have to consider the possibility that 40% of your users will google "how do I block ads?" Because the revenue from a user who blocks ads doesn't stay at 100% of the current levels – it drops to zero, forever (no user ever googles "how do I stop blocking ads?").

The majority of web users are running an ad-blocker:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

Web operators made them an offer ("free website in exchange for unlimited surveillance and unfettered intrusions") and they made a counteroffer ("how about 'nah'?"):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

Here's the thing: reverse-engineering an app – or any other IP-encumbered technology – is a legal minefield. Just decompiling an app exposes you to felony prosecution: a five year sentence and a $500k fine for violating Section 1201 of the DMCA. But it's not just the DMCA – modern products are surrounded with high-tech tripwires that allow companies to invoke IP law to prevent competitors from augmenting, recongifuring or adapting their products. When a business says it has "IP," it means that it has arranged its legal affairs to allow it to invoke the power of the state to control its customers, critics and competitors:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

An "app" is just a web-page skinned in enough IP to make it a crime to add an ad-blocker to it. This is what Jay Freeman calls "felony contempt of business model" and it's everywhere. When companies don't have to worry about users deploying self-help measures to disenshittify their products, they are freed from the constraint that prevents them indulging the impulse to shift value from their customers to themselves.

Apple owes its existence to interoperability – its ability to clone Microsoft Office's file formats for Pages, Numbers and Keynote, which saved the company in the early 2000s – and ever since, it has devoted its existence to making sure no one ever does to Apple what Apple did to Microsoft:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Regulatory capture cuts both ways: it's not just about powerful corporations being free to flout the law, it's also about their ability to enlist the law to punish competitors that might constrain their plans for exploiting their workers, customers, suppliers or other stakeholders.

The final historical constraint on tech companies was their own workers. Tech has very low union-density, but that's in part because individual tech workers enjoyed so much bargaining power due to their scarcity. This is why their bosses pampered them with whimsical campuses filled with gourmet cafeterias, fancy gyms and free massages: it allowed tech companies to convince tech workers to work like government mules by flattering them that they were partners on a mission to bring the world to its digital future:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/10/the-proletarianization-of-tech-workers/

For tech bosses, this gambit worked well, but failed badly. On the one hand, they were able to get otherwise powerful workers to consent to being "extremely hardcore" by invoking Fobazi Ettarh's spirit of "vocational awe":

https://www.inthelibrarywiththeleadpipe.org/2018/vocational-awe/

On the other hand, when you motivate your workers by appealing to their sense of mission, the downside is that they feel a sense of mission. That means that when you demand that a tech worker enshittifies something they missed their mother's funeral to deliver, they will experience a profound sense of moral injury and refuse, and that worker's bargaining power means that they can make it stick.

Or at least, it did. In this era of mass tech layoffs, when Google can fire 12,000 workers after a $80b stock buyback that would have paid their wages for the next 27 years, tech workers are learning that the answer to "I won't do this and you can't make me" is "don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out" (AKA "sharpen your blades boys"):

https://techcrunch.com/2022/09/29/elon-musk-texts-discovery-twitter/

With competition, regulation, self-help and labor cleared away, tech firms – and firms that have wrapped their products around the pluripotently malleable core of digital tech, including automotive makers – are no longer constrained from enshittifying their products.

And that's why your car manufacturer has chosen to spy on you and sell your private information to data-brokers and anyone else who wants it. Not because you didn't pay for the product, so you're the product. It's because they can get away with it.

Cars are enshittified. The dozens of chips that auto makers have shoveled into their car design are only incidentally related to delivering a better product. The primary use for those chips is autoenshittification – access to legal strictures ("IP") that allows them to block modifications and repairs that would interfere with the unfettered abuse of their own customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

The fact that it's a felony to reverse-engineer and modify a car's software opens the floodgates to all kinds of shitty scams. Remember when Bay Staters were voting on a ballot measure to impose right-to-repair obligations on automakers in Massachusetts? The only reason they needed to have the law intervene to make right-to-repair viable is that Big Car has figured out that if it encrypts its diagnostic messages, it can felonize third-party diagnosis of a car, because decrypting the messages violates the DMCA:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2013/11/drm-cars-will-drive-consumers-crazy

Big Car figured out that VIN locking – DRM for engine components and subassemblies – can felonize the production and the installation of third-party spare parts:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

The fact that you can't legally modify your car means that automakers can go back to their pre-2008 ways, when they transformed themselves into unregulated banks that incidentally manufactured the cars they sold subprime loans for. Subprime auto loans – over $1t worth! – absolutely relies on the fact that borrowers' cars can be remotely controlled by lenders. Miss a payment and your car's stereo turns itself on and blares threatening messages at top volume, which you can't turn off. Break the lease agreement that says you won't drive your car over the county line and it will immobilize itself. Try to change any of this software and you'll commit a felony under Section 1201 of the DMCA:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Tesla, naturally, has the most advanced anti-features. Long before BMW tried to rent you your seat-heater and Mercedes tried to sell you a monthly subscription to your accelerator pedal, Teslas were demon-haunted nightmare cars. Miss a Tesla payment and the car will immobilize itself and lock you out until the repo man arrives, then it will blare its horn and back itself out of its parking spot. If you "buy" the right to fully charge your car's battery or use the features it came with, you don't own them – they're repossessed when your car changes hands, meaning you get less money on the used market because your car's next owner has to buy these features all over again:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

And all this DRM allows your car maker to install spyware that you're not allowed to remove. They really tipped their hand on this when the R2R ballot measure was steaming towards an 80% victory, with wall-to-wall scare ads that revealed that your car collects so much information about you that allowing third parties to access it could lead to your murder (no, really!):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

That's why your car spies on you. Because it can. Because the company that made it lacks constraint, be it market-based, legal, technological or its own workforce's ethics.

One common critique of my enshittification hypothesis is that this is "kind of sensible and normal" because "there’s something off in the consumer mindset that we’ve come to believe that the internet should provide us with amazing products, which bring us joy and happiness and we spend hours of the day on, and should ask nothing back in return":

https://freakonomics.com/podcast/how-to-have-great-conversations/

What this criticism misses is that this isn't the companies bargaining to shift some value from us to them. Enshittification happens when a company can seize all that value, without having to bargain, exploiting law and technology and market power over buyers and sellers to unilaterally alter the way the products and services we rely on work.

A company that doesn't have to fear competitors, regulators, jailbreaking or workers' refusal to enshittify its products doesn't have to bargain, it can take. It's the first lesson they teach you in the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

Your car spying on you isn't down to your belief that your carmaker "should provide you with amazing products, which brings your joy and happiness you spend hours of the day on, and should ask nothing back in return." It's not because you didn't pay for the product, so now you're the product. It's because they can get away with it.

The consequences of this spying go much further than mere insurance premium hikes, too. Car telemetry sits at the top of the funnel that the unbelievably sleazy data broker industry uses to collect and sell our data. These are the same companies that sell the fact that you visited an abortion clinic to marketers, bounty hunters, advertisers, or vengeful family members pretending to be one of those:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/07/safegraph-spies-and-lies/#theres-no-i-in-uterus

Decades of pro-monopoly policy led to widespread regulatory capture. Corporate cartels use the monopoly profits they extract from us to pay for regulatory inaction, allowing them to extract more profits.

But when it comes to privacy, that period of unchecked corporate power might be coming to an end. The lack of privacy regulation is at the root of so many problems that a pro-privacy movement has an unstoppable constituency working in its favor.

At EFF, we call this "privacy first." Whether you're worried about grifters targeting vulnerable people with conspiracy theories, or teens being targeted with media that harms their mental health, or Americans being spied on by foreign governments, or cops using commercial surveillance data to round up protesters, or your car selling your data to insurance companies, passing that long-overdue privacy legislation would turn off the taps for the data powering all these harms:

https://www.eff.org/wp/privacy-first-better-way-address-online-harms

Traditional economics fails because it thinks about markets without thinking about power. Monopolies lead to more than market power: they produce regulatory capture, power over workers, and state capture, which felonizes competition through IP law. The story that our problems stem from the fact that we just don't spend enough money, or buy the wrong products, only makes sense if you willfully ignore the power that corporations exert over our lives. It's nice to think that you can shop your way out of a monopoly, because that's a lot easier than voting your way out of a monopoly, but no matter how many times you vote with your wallet, the cartels that control the market will always win:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/05/the-map-is-not-the-territory/#apor-locksmith

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/12/market-failure/#car-wars

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[goingmerryfics]

HELLO, I was seeing that you were open to requests and I've had this in my head for a long time and I would really like to see something about this, a reader who has a huge scar on his face that is literally ugly, they got it as a child, apart from the fact that it shows part of the teeth of how serious it was and for this reason the reader wears a mask for fear of being told things about them face, I'm sorry if it's something explicit just that sometimes I feel like I don't explain myself

Reader with a scar - Luffy & Penguin

Content: reader is referred to as a ‘guy’ and a ‘dude’, reader wears a face mask, can be read as platonic, face scarring due to a past accident not specified, fluff and reassurance, a few mentions of Shachi in Penguin's part.

Notes* Hey there! There wasn't a character specified for this ask, so I chose two that I'm less experienced with to write out this prompt with :) male reader because of the pronouns used in the ask! I got really interested in this prompt right away and wrote it immediately upon receiving the ask and absolutely had to post it now so I apologize if the formatting is wonky! I'm on mobile haha

Luffy

When you first met Strawhat Luffy, it was while he was stopped at your home island along his grand adventure

You'd never really paid much attention to pirates and their lives- you had your own to live and figure out anyway

But as you and Luffy became closer- first as acquaintances, then as temporary allies, and then as friends as he boldly declared it in a short amount of time, you started to really like the guy

He'd only asked you about the mask you wore once. But the second you tried to answer him, he was distracted by dinner. After that, it was if he'd forgotten all about his question

It was kind of nice that way, not needing to worry about constant pestering or comments about it

Luffy truly didn't give a shit what you wore on your face at all. He cared about you (and your food, of course)

Luffy had a way of making you feel as if you could trust him to see your face. What you've kept hidden for most of your life, after a terrible accident had, in your opinion, ruined your life

But Luffy's care for you was unlike anything you've ever felt before. Luffy made you feel safe, protected, and just a little anxious at how willing he was to throw himself in harm's way to help you, the appointed new friend

One evening, you decide that you do in fact want to talk to him about your past. It's a decision you've been thinking over for a while, but actually getting up and moving to Luffy's room is such a sudden action, and then you're suddenly seeking him out in the dead of night on his ship to tell him about your scar.

The Thousand Sunny was still docked peacefully at the edge of the south side of your island, where you had originally met them what felt like so long ago. In reality, it had only been about a week since the Strawhats arrived, and yet it felt like so much longer in the chaos.

Their gangplank was pulled up, but before you could start trying to climb the ship's side, you spot Luffy out on the deck- evident by the straw hat on his head.

You call out his name, and he turns right away. With a grin quickly spreading on his face, he hops off the sunny and onto the grassy island floor. He calls your name happily.

“What are you doing over here? Is something wrong?” He asks.

You tell him it's not that, and he picks up on your unease.

“Well, what is it? It's hard to tell but you look like something's bothering you. Are you hungry?”

You shake your head, and you begin to explain. You tell him about your accident, about how your face was scarred and disfigured. You tell him about your upbringing, how hard it was to fit in with the other kids while you looked like that.

You can feel yourself getting emotional. Luffy can hear it in your voice, too. He calls your name in a stern tone- one he only seems to use when he gets serious.

“Listen, I don't care about all that crap.” He speaks. And though his words are blunt, you know he means them in the best way.

“I like you. You're a really nice guy, and you fight really well. So what else matters? You think I care if you've got a scar on your face?”

He stares at you, and you feel it in the center of your chest.

“You should feel free to do whatever you want! If you want to wear your mask then that's fine. But if you don't, then take it off! And if people don't like it, that's their problem! If they don't want to get to know you because of what your face looks like, then they're the ones that are missing out!”

You can feel tears in your eyes. There's something about the way Luffy says- no, declares it so passionately that leaves no doubt in your mind of his pure fondness for you.

Through your tears, you can see Luffy's smile, and your heart soars.

Penguin

You'd been a Heart Pirate for a short amount of time, but somehow you had made quick friends with many people on the Polar Tang- one of them being the man who called himself, ‘Penguin’ with the hat to prove it

There was something about him that was so easy to click with. Maybe it was your shared sense of humor, or the fact that you found it hilarious watching him and his partner in crime Shachi get into trouble for pulling pranks around your Captain (for the millionth time)

You weren't the only person on the crew who wore a full face mask, either. So while he was curious and questioned it in the beginning, one word from you to leave it alone and he backed off. Surprisingly.

Still, you definitely caught him eyeing you at times. The urge to pull the mask off your face to see what you were hiding was strong in him, but you two were friends and he wouldn't do that to you

One evening, Shachi had been pressing you just a little too much about the matter and he'd said, “What, are you ugly or something under there?”

Which earned a swift smack to the back of his head from Penguin, chastising him for saying something that insensitive

He'd noticed the way your teeth clenched, how tense you got. It had obviously hit home, and he made Shachi apologize for his rude joke right then and there

After that though, he found himself wondering why. Why did you think you were ugly? What were you hiding? Did you actually have a reason to be insecure, or was it something more?

He cared about you. He didn't want you to feel like you couldn't be yourself around them- the Heart Pirates were your family now, and a proper family didn't hurt each other for something so miniscule.

You had gotten over the comment, but Penguin had already begun his mission.

It was late into the evening. The chores were done for the day, and Penguin wanted to catch you before you went to bed. He wasn't really sure what he was gonna do or say, but he knew he wanted to address it before the worry drove him to insomnia.

He searches the halls for you and eventually finds you in the common room. He calls your name cheerfully, thankful that you're alone here- at least for the time being.

You greet Penguin, looking up from what you'd been doing. He takes a seat nearby and starts to make idle chatter, asking you about your day, telling you a bit of gossip, smiling when he gets you to laugh.

Then he clears his throat and switches gears, moving on to the conversation he really came here for.

“So, uh… There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You watch him fidget for a minute. He's not good with feelings at all, and he's trying to figure out how to bring this up without accidentally offending you. Eventually, he finds the words.

“So… About what Shachi said a while back. I was kinda worried about it.”

You quickly assure him that it was fine, that Shachi apologized and he only meant it as an, albeit bad, joke.

“Yeah, but… I don't know. It looked like it really bothered you. I hope you don't think that, like, we would think you're ugly or something! Whatever you look like under there, you're still the same cool dude we know. Nothing would change that. I guess I just wanted to say that.” Penguin shrugs.

You're not sure what to say to that. Your initial reaction is bitter- to insist that actually they would think you're ugly if they could see your face. But something stops you, and you get stuck just choking on your words.

“Look, I'm just saying, it bothers me to think that you don't like the way you look. I'm not saying you have to show me your face or anything, but just… If you choose to take your mask off one day, I hope you know that we'd love you all the same. You'll always be our family, no matter what you look like.”

You nod, because it's all you can bring yourself to do in the moment. It's nice, hearing that reassurance.

Penguin quickly changes the subject to try and dissipate the tension in the room made by the serious conversation, going on about something stupid Shachi had done that got him into some shit with the Captain earlier, which makes you laugh.

His words stick to your heart -You'll always be our family, no matter what you look like- and you know that when you do decide to show yourself to them, that you'll be alright.

[nemoredraw]

hihi i was wondering what ur favorite nemo fun facts r!

Funny and Interesting Facts About Nemo:

• Master of Escapes: Nemo is incredibly slippery; he’ll always find a way to deceive or escape.

• Close Encounters: Nemo isn’t afraid to get up close and personal with his enemies, but there’s always a reason. For example, when he gets close to Tim, Batman, or others, it’s usually to snatch something useful for his escape or to throw them off mentally. His skill in pickpocketing is almost professional.

• Fear of Damian: The person Nemo fears most in the Batfamily is Damian. Perhaps because he sees too much of himself in the kid. He avoids fighting Damian and especially hates the idea of hitting a child.

• Cigarette Smell: The scent of cigarettes reminds Nemo of his father, which might be why he started smoking at a young age.

• Reginald the Butler: Reginald has been Nemo’s butler and companion for his entire life, caring for him as much as Nemo allows.

• Antonio Alejandro: Nemo cannot stand Antonio Alejandro but pretends they’re friends to use him. Antonio Alejandro genuinely believes they are best friends.

• Emotionally Distant Father: Nemo’s father has always kept an emotional distance, so Nemo doesn’t know what a normal paternal relationship looks like.

• Sheltered Upbringing: Nemo spent most of his life isolated from the outside world, interacting only with adults (bodyguards, household staff, tutors, etc.). As a teenager, he amused himself by stealing from the staff, once obtaining a mobile phone with internet access. Through it, he quickly explored the outside world, discovering Vine, Musical.ly, YouTube, etc., at age 14. Imagine Nemo reacting to internet trends for the first time.

• Clumsy with Heights: He’s hilariously prone to falling off buildings.

• Coffee Addict and Fast Food Fan: Nemo drinks an absurd amount of Starbucks (Caramel Macchiatos) and loves fast food. His favorites are McDonald’s (Deluxe Fries with Deluxe Sauce) and Burger King (Veggie Whopper).

• Terrible with Guns: While Nemo often carries firearms, his aim is laughably bad.

• Social Anxieties: Nemo dislikes interacting with people, and when he must, he puts on a façade of charm and kindness to manipulate those around him. Large gatherings, especially in high society, give him anxiety. Before attending, he’ll chain-smoke an entire pack of cigarettes to mentally prepare for “playing the role” of a model billionaire heir.

• Tim Drake Hyperfixation: Nemo has a hyperfixation on Tim Drake, who constantly interferes with his operations. Yet Nemo treats their confrontations like a game, enjoying the cat-and-mouse dynamic. Tim is aware of this and uses it to his advantage.

• Employee Benefits: If you work for Nemo, you’ll enjoy excellent health and dental insurance. His employees are well-paid and receive full social security benefits. (Yes, it’s hilarious.)

• Motorcycle Enthusiast: While he often rides in cars driven by bodyguards, Nemo prefers traveling by motorcycle.

• Sharp Wit: Nemo is quick on his feet mentally, excelling at sarcasm and witty comebacks. He’s also a master of nicknames.

• Self-Destructive Tendencies: Nemo is willing to do anything, no matter the personal cost, to achieve his goals.

• Piercings: He has piercings on his belly button, lip, and ears. After fights, he often checks to ensure they’re still there.

• Appearance Inspiration: Nemo’s vibe is a mix of electric eel, piranha, and shark.

• Mechanics and Collecting: He’s skilled with mechanics and has a passion for collecting luxury vehicles.

[ask--eggman]

Eggman have you ever considered losing weight?

Are you implying that I need to? My weight is a deliberate choice! I'm perfect the way I am and I'm specifically aiming to maintain that. I'd never want to lose most of what I have now. I'm supposed to look like this. As the Eggman, I must eat well to keep my iconic and signature feared figure!

I do lose some weight every now and then anyway. If I gain weight past the limit I set based on what's recommended in terms of health and mobility required for my work that is, as I can recognize when I'm starting to lose my perfect egg shaped physique in the opposite direction too... It takes some time but I get there.

And it's an absolutely awful experience every time! The food I have to eat on my terrible diet gets so boring and when I don't get to eat as much with the restricting I'm just so hungry, it makes me so irritable! I deserve so much better, I deserve to always dine like the brilliant mighty emperor I am and my belly should never be left to rumble!

The best part of it is when I get to reward myself by finally tearing into my delicious juicy crispy salty fried chicken and fries master meal plan and all my other favorites again, mmm~ I must go and order my chef bots to make it for me right now to take full advantage in the freedom I have of not being on a diet at the moment, hoho!

[luxe-pauvre]

[Anne Helen] Petersen’s most acute insight is perhaps in identifying a link between relentlessly optimized childhoods designed to prevent downward mobility, and the professionally competent but profoundly enervated millennials overwhelmed by the prospect of canceling plans, of keeping plans, of cooking food, of texting their mothers. I think she is correct. I think it’s possible that for many, considering the shape of your life and then living it with vigor is so difficult because it cannot be externally validated. Unlike education and work, it offers no socially obvious meritocratic path. The moments where, like sourdough, it proves, are largely invisible — in cooking, in walking, corresponding with a friend, in chatting with a neighbor or registering to give blood. They cannot be tallied up and put on a resume. They are never “finished.” The progress you make is spiraling rather than linear; circling steadily, slowly, around your weak points, taking two steps forward and one step back, building habits so slowly that only in retrospect can you see your life become different than it was. And there is no one who can tell you that you did it right. But this is not the condition of life under capitalism, this is life itself. And it is a sad irony that though the fear of life may be produced by class imperatives within capitalism, the impulse to restrict it to a problem of capitalism is itself part of the same fearful rejection of the task of living. […] If you think seriously about the good life and pursue it, you will probably fail in ways large and small. But an imperfect struggle to live well and love a world badly in need of repair is better than staying still because things are terrible, because you might look like a loser in the meritocratic game, because it’s easier. This is your life. You do not have time to wait for the revolution to begin living it. You will always be able to find someone to give you permission not to live it. But no one is coming along to live it for you.

Clare Coffey, Failure to Cope “Under Capitalism”

[whinlatter]

The broken family bond between Harry and Petunia!

wow while usher was dancing his socks off at half-time you were thinking about petunia dursley née evans' malicious treatment of everyone's favourite grouchy knobbly-kneed jock... what does this say about you anon? look inwards

i feel terrible that i do not have too many thoughts about the broken family bond between harry and petunia but i DO have thoughts about what harry represents as a challenge to the nuclear family unit and its associated class connotations that petunia cares so much about. one thing i have been thinking A Lot about recently is petunia's description of snape as 'that awful boy' in ootp (which ofc, at the time, harry thinks is a reference to james), and how petunia's ideas about class and social mobility colour her view of wizards and, by extension, her resentment and contempt for harry. sooo i have talked about that instead......... ctrl + f neoliberal renders 2 results below i'm so sorry

when we meet petunia in the canon timeline, she's a parody of a tory home counties suburban housewife, striving middle class in the very thatcherite neoliberal sense, all about the house prices and the pension pot, with her perfectly maintained peach home decor and pristine garden, with a husband who has made his money through a managerial position in industrial manufacturing, who sends her son to private school and monitors the material wealth of her neighbours and associates very acutely. we know that young petunia wanted to join wizarding society and was rejected by it, and we know that adult petunia now holds wizarding world and its culture in open contempt. we particularly know that petunia hated snape, and that, other than lily, snape was the first wizard she ever really met. to young petunia's eyes, snape had all the visible markers of poverty and of being working class ("They live down Spinner’s End by the river," she told Lily, and it was evident from her tone that she considered the address a poor recommendation.') nevertheless, by virtue of being a wizard, this shabby poor-looking boy was elevated above petunia as something particularly special, and sneered at petunia as lesser than him as a result. i think this is interesting, because i think young petunia processes her rejection from magic by starting to think of magic and wizarding culture as a perverse subversion of the class system she knows and believes in, where a visibly working class person can somehow be special and worthy. (we can speculate what she would make of james potter as her son-in-law - james, while obviously wealthy, is old money posh coded - he doesn't work for a living! - aka not at all invested in the hard-work discourse, keeping-up-with-appearances that the new money suburban types that petunia strives for).

why does this matter? i just think it's very striking that petunia's complaints about harry are so often expressed less in terms of the danger of his magic, than his threat to external perceptions of her and her family, and, especially, as a challenge to their class position

petunia makes critiques of harry's messy appearance, his misbehaviour at primary school (caused by his magic), his association with the criminal (sirius black) and the shabby (the weasleys), and his refusal to respect or show any deference to vernon and the family despite their great attempts to maintain the trappings of respectability. the particular horror of harry's presence in the dursleys' life, in petunia's mind, is that his existence makes her family an alternative blended family, which compromises all that petunia holds dear in terms of the trappings of middle class respectability that puts a great deal of social capital on the nuclear family unit and no deviation from it. i don't mean to suggest petunia only perceives magic as a class threat, or that she doesn't fear harry's magic as something dangerous. her response to dudley's dementor run-in proves how much she fears what magic can do (and, ofc, she knows what happened to lily). but what's striking in DH is that petunia is still umming and ahhing, as vernon is, about whether to go into hiding. unlike movie!petunia in that deleted scene, book!petunia still isn't convinced about 'what these people are capable of'. for this reason, i think petunia has come to think of wizarding culture in terms of a fundamental challenge to the class system she understands and upholds, and to the primacy of middle class new money neoliberal suburban identity that is petunia's entire worldview. and that's really the source of her beef with harry: not his threat to her safety, but to her class identity, which is adult petunia's whole world.

[silvercoloredskiess]

Devil Zhang Hao x Angel reader

Got this idea when first seeing Hao’s new look for ZB1’s performance of ‘Devil Game’. Hope those who find this enjoy it! Also sorry for the low quality image. I was creating this post on mobile. And I will be continuing the yandere ZB1 series, I just loved Hao’s new look.

Synopsis: Devil Zhang Hao x Genderless Angel reader

Warnings: None, but tell me if this needs one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heaven, the world you resided in, was always a peaceful place. There were no worries, no terribly chaotic conflicts, and no stroke of any evil. A place full of love and happy angels. There was only one thing an angel had the capability of hating; and that was hell; the dimension that lived just under heaven.

According to the book you would read in public libraries, hell was the worst dimension in the entire universe. The trees were always burning, the sky was blood red, and there wasn’t an ounce of life in any of hell’s malicious citizens. Evil was everywhere.

There was always fear that the demon lord from Hell would go to Heaven one day to terrorize its citizens. Admittedly, the Angel queen of Heaven wasn’t exactly prepared for that hypothetical situation. In the books, the demon lord was depicted as a wild beast with glowing red eyes and black horns.  It made sense why everyone was fearful.

You spent a lot of your days researching more about Hell. And soon you wanted to figure this place out for yourself. Upon saying this to your friends and family, they shrieked in fear. They asked why you would ever want to visit there. The demon lord would shred you to bits, as they claimed.

But this burning desire filled your head all the time. It would be a chance to redefine what Hell was like. Perhaps the books were wrong. After all there was never an angel that went to Hell and came back to Heaven. Do they just become demons?

You read through hundreds of books, trying to connect the puzzle pieces together so you could transport yourself to this dimension. The librarian would always be astonished at how many times you went to the library. But if he knew what you were trying to do, he would faint.

When you finally figured out the spell and instructions, you were hesitant at first. In fact you almost cried. What if you were never gonna see your family or community again? Would you be stuck as a fallen angel? Regardless, you just knew you had to do this.

Upon performing the spell, you saw a red smoke around you and passed out, waking up in a dimension surrounded by the blood red sky you remembered reading about. Your whole body shook when you stood up to see the atmosphere. There were many people with red eyes and little devil horns, all staring at you. It wasn’t everyday you saw an angel dressed in pure white and adorning white wings in Hell.

You noticed everyone there swore like sailors and were cruel as you remembered reading on. They were snickering at you, and some were whispering to each-other, saying something about the demon lord coming soon. You have never felt so scared for your life..

Suddenly, everyone became silent as the sounds of boots clacking hit the floor. You looked to the source of the sound to see a tall man in pink hair, little black horns, and a leather black cloak. He had a rather handsome face. It made you realize something..

“Hah, I’m so much different from your little books in Heaven depicting me, aren’t I?” He scoffed while looking down at you. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m the demon lord, Zhang Hao. I wonder how stupid an angel would have to be to be to purposely come here.”

He ordered everyone standing around you to get away. Afterward, his face got very close to yours, making you blush. He snickered and whispered in your ear.

“Too late now, you’re stuck here as a fallen angel. You idiotic angel…it’s cute to watch your corruption. But I’m feeling nice. Since you’re so cute, I’ll let you stay as an angel for a little bit. In fact, I’ll let you stay at my palace.”

He smiled as he said those words, a very mischievous smile. He created a spell to transport the both of you to his dark and scary palace, right in his bedroom.

“And what are you doing with me, Hao? Don’t do what I think you’re gonna do.”

He growled, “Please call me Lord Zhang Hao, not Hao. How rude of you. An angel like you shouldn’t be rude. Be a good angel for me, okay?”

“So what are you gonna do to me here? Why are we in such an intimate room… could’ve brought me to the ballroom or whatever is in his castle. I know a ballroom in the angel Queen’s pala-“

“That’s great. I know the palace of Heaven exists.” He said sarcastically. “This place doesn’t have that. Anyway, you’re staying here for now. OR maybe forever.” He laughed maniacally.

You found him extremely handsome, which made you question your angelic state. Why were you falling for a demon lord? If any angel found out, you would be in huge trouble.

“Falling for me, little angel?” He laughed, getting closer to you. Due to a Freudian slip, you said yes. That was a big mistake.

“So cute. You know, if you continue sinning, you’ll lose your wings and the bright halo floating over your head. I can already see the brightness of your halo dimming under my presence. Almost like I’m controlling you..”

“It was an accident I didn’t mean to say that! I don’t wanna lose what makes me an angel! I wanna go back home” you panicked as you said that.

“You really wanna go back to Heaven? Isn’t that such a boring place? You’re the kinda person that needs excitement in their life. And the desire can only be fulfilled here. I’ve never seen an angel so cute yet so naughty~”

“Shut up it’s not like that. Anyway my clothes are all dirty because of that rocky floor I was summoned on earlier. Can I get new clothes?”

He smiled. “Sure thing. It won’t look anything like that white cloth you’re wearing. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb in Hell.”

You changed into a black, gold and red outfit and looked at your appearance in the mirror. Never have you worn this dark of clothing…

You still loved it for some reason. Zhang Hao grinned when he saw your new look and he fixed your hair.

Zhang Hao laughed, “Now you look like a true fallen angel. Never got your name, by the way. And also, can I ask why you don’t seem to mind this transformation?”

“I’m (Y/n). And uh… I’m not really sure why I’m letting you do all of this. I’m not nearly as terrified as I was when I first got here. But now I feel deep regret that I’m straying away from the angel Queen. I’m a disgusting, foolish and impure angel!” You cried, sitting down on the bed.

His smile actually didn’t falter. Not like you wanted a demon lord to feel any sympathy, but still. He lifted your chin and dried your tears with a handkerchief, snickering.

“Aww why are we crying, (y/n)” he asked teasingly. “It’s not foolish, disgusting or impure for doing what your heart tells you. I’ll tell you, I feel like angels are more depressed than devils, because they follow by what meaningless rules dictate they do. Devils just do what they wanna do. That’s true happiness.”

“Yeah, but… I think I still feel regret. It hurts. I betrayed the Angel Queen and all of my community. And what if I get cursed for the entirety of my life for what I’ve done?”

“That won’t happen as long as you’re with me. I know you like me a lot, you’re a blushing mess. And I think I like you when you just express yourself as your heart desires.”

He pulled in for a kiss from you, and you leaned in because you liked him a lot too. He was the first person who let you be as you are. And the fact that it was a demon lord who did that… was probably the most ironic thing.

[whatdoseitmeantobehuman]

Echos of home part 9 growing pains

"If one more person touches my stomach without asking," the reader grumbled, watching Phoenix and Raze argue over who got to feel the baby kick, "I'm going to let Sova shoot them." At five months along, their bump had become the compound's favorite new attraction. Even Chamber, usually so composed, had been caught talking to it in French when he thought no one was looking.

Sova's protective instincts had reached new levels. Just yesterday, he'd nearly put an arrow through Breach for startling them with an unexpected belly pat. "Personal space," he'd growled, while the reader tried not to laugh at his bristling. "I should be godparent," Phoenix declared during breakfast.

"I'm clearly the most fun." "You set things on fire," Killjoy countered. "I'm building them educational toys. And a state-of-the-art monitoring system. And-" "Please stop turning our child into a surveillance project," the reader sighed, one hand on their bump while the other reached for toast. Sova immediately moved to get it for them, but Thrash was faster, carefully bringing the plate over. "See? Even Gekko's creatures are better candidates," Jett teased. "Wingman has been practicing his babysitting skills," Gekko added proudly, as the little creature demonstrated his perfected swaddling technique on Mosh.

"They're kicking again," the reader whispered one night, guiding Sova's hand to the spot. His face lit up with wonder, as it did every time. He pressed a kiss to their stomach, murmuring something in Russian. "What are you telling them?" "How lucky they are," he smiled. "To have so many people who already love them."

The cravings drove everyone crazy. "Who wants pierogies with chocolate sauce at 3 AM?" Phoenix complained, but he still helped make them. "Better than last week's pickles and ice cream phase," Harbor chuckled. "I still say the curry-dipped watermelon was worse," Fade added. "You try growing a tiny human," the reader shot back, happily dipping their chocolate-covered pierogi in hot sauce.

The betting pool for godparent was getting out of hand. "I've known them longest," Killjoy argued. "I'm teaching the baby parkour," Jett declared. "Absolutely not," Sova and the reader said in unison. "I'm the most responsible," Cypher stated. "You literally spy on people for fun," Raze pointed out. "I'm writing them a tactical training program," Brimstone offered. "They're not even born yet!" Sage exclaimed, exasperated.

The nursery became a group project, much to Chamber's horror. "The aesthetic is all wrong," he complained, watching Raze paint cartoon bunnies on the wall. "Babies don't care about aesthetic," Phoenix argued, hanging up the mobile Killjoy had engineered to play lullabies and display constellations. Sova just smiled, watching their family transform the room with pieces of themselves. Breach's carefully crafted wooden crib. Harbor's hand-painted ocean mural. Fade's dreamcatcher. Cypher's (heavily monitored) baby monitors. "Does it bother you?" they asked Sova one evening, watching him glare at yet another unauthorized belly touch. "All the attention?" He softened immediately.

"No, myshka. Well... maybe a little. But seeing how much they already love our child..." He placed his hand protectively over their bump. "It makes me happy. Even if they are all terrible at personal space." "Speaking of space," they grinned, "your child is currently doing acrobatics on my bladder. Again." "Now they're my child?" he laughed, helping them up. "When they're making me pee every five minutes? Absolutely."

The arguments over names were endless. "Something traditional," Sova suggested. "Something unique," Phoenix countered. "Something that strikes fear into the hearts of enemies," Reyna offered. "It's a baby, not a weapon," Sage sighed. But the sweetest moments were the quiet ones. Sova singing Russian lullabies when he thought everyone was asleep. Wingman curled protectively around the bump during naps. The way the whole team would drop everything if the reader so much as winced.

The sight of hardened agents cooing at ultrasound pictures. "Our child is going to be so spoiled," they mused one night, watching Sova arrange the stuffed animals everyone kept bringing. "Our child is going to be so loved," he corrected softly. Because that's what they had built here - not just a nursery, but a home. Not just a team, but a family. A family that might not understand personal space, or normal boundaries, or appropriate baby gifts (Chamber had already ordered a tiny bespoke suit), but who loved fiercely, protected absolutely, and would move heaven and earth for the tiny life growing in their midst. Even if they wouldn't stop touching the bump without permission.

[nothingunrealistic]

1, kleinsen

1. “I love you, please don’t go.”

“And as soon as the new car gets delivered, the minivan is mine for good.” Jared flops onto his back so that he’s lying across the entire foot of Evan’s bed, legs dangling over the side. “The Jaredmobile is gonna hit these streets harder than —”

“Are you really calling it that?” Evan has ridden in Jared’s mom’s minivan, soon to be Jared’s minivan, and it is mobile, but that’s kind of a low bar. It probably shouldn’t be hitting anything hard.

“Haven’t decided. But I know what bumper sticker is going on there first.” Jared sticks his phone in Evan’s face. “Check it.”

“‘Caution: This vehicle makes frequent stops at your mom’s house.’”

“It’s gonna be true. Especially at your mom’s house.”

“You mean my house?”

“Is your name on the property deed? I don’t think so.” Jared grimaces, wriggles around, and nearly whacks Evan in the face with his phone as he pulls out a mechanical pencil he was lying on. “And when, after I’ve spent another week chauffeuring your sorry ass around, she invites me to stay the night —”

“Mom works nights.”

“— is it gonna be you saying ‘please, I love you, please don’t go’ in the morning?” He rhythmically raps Evan’s knee with the pencil. “I. Don’t. Think. So.”

“You’re gross. And that’s my pencil.”

“Finders keepers, bro.”

“Boys?” Mom knocks on the door and opens it half a second later; in that half second, Jared shoves himself upright and slaps the pencil into Evan’s hand, and something that sounds a lot like Jared’s phone hits the floor. “Everything okay? Is that project coming along?”

“Going great, Mrs. H.,” Jared says, over top of Evan’s “Fine, Mom.”

“Good. That’s good. Well, I’m heading out to work.” She already looks as frazzled as if she just came back from a shift. “There’s money on the table so you two can order dinner. I think Domino’s is doing their half off deal again, but make sure you check. Jared, will your mom be able to pick you up? I’ll be back too late to give you a ride home.” And suddenly Evan is terrified that Jared will say some stupid thing about Mom giving him a ride, and she’ll get mad and tell him to go home now, and Evan will have to finish this English project on his own, and he’ll probably get a terrible grade, and Jared will be mad at him even though it’ll be Jared’s fault in the first place, and —

“Won’t be a problem,” Jared says, perfectly polite.

“Great. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Evan, I love you.”

Mom walks back out, but she doesn’t shut the door, so Evan counts to five before he says, “Thank you for not saying anything weird.”

“To your mom? What, do you think I’m some kind of male chauvinist pig? Thanks for nothing, Billie Jean.”

“Is that what that song’s about?”

“What — no. Never mind.” Jared bends over and retrieves his phone from the floor. “I’m hungry. Let’s get some shitty half-price pizza. Which is a ridiculous deal, by the way.”

“I think it’s a March Madness thing.”

“In April?”

“Maybe it’s an extra-long deal.”

“Madness is right. How much money are we working with here?”

“Probably twenty dollars.” An engine starts outside; Evan shifts over on the bed to look out the window, watching to confirm that it’s Mom’s car, until it turns left and vanishes from sight. “But, uh, when the pizza gets here —”

“Yes, I’ll get the door so you don’t have to have a breakdown about it. Never fear.”

(angst/fluff prompt list)

[horsemeatluvr23]

Hi I have returned from having a very terrible migraine and a flare up, so have some more projection headcanons - Weighted blanket anon

- Etho has chronic migraines, he usually ignores them until he’s literally falling over from pain, nausea and fatigue though.

- Cleo experiences chronic pain, she’ll also randomly lose feeling in certain limbs, while this happens her limbs will still be functional though. So for example, Cleo may not be able to completely feel her legs, but she can still walk around (it’s just REALLY hard and she looks silly doing it)

- I think I’ve already sent in a headcanon about Cub making Scar custom mobility aids? But ! Scar is not the only hermit to use aids, Cleo and Etho will both use them occasionally, even Ren does ! Grian actually needs special braces for his wings so he can fly for longer (I headcanon him as an avian so yeah!)

- A more non-human based headcanon (I can do a whole ask on non-human hermit headcanons if you want :D), Grian likes to perch on other hermits and many hermits have custom shoulder pads so he can safely do so without hurting them.

- The hermits have bake offs, but the only people who can actually bake are judges. Yeah, there ends up being a lot of food poisoning. Beef turned salmon into a baked good.

- Ren is an author ! He has so many stories written, but he only shares them with friends. He’ll write custom novels for people then gift it to them as a way of showing he loves/cares about them !

- False is building rivers this season as exposure therapy to get over her fear of water

HELLO OMG I MISSED YOU I HOPE YOU'RE DOING BETTER NOW !!!! these r so perfect as always

[karolamurdock]

SpiderWoman 2099 Pt.4

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

Sinopsis: The year is 2106. By day, you work as the head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division at Alchemax. By night, you are the one and only Spider-Woman, fighting tirelessly to protect New York from the tyrannical clutches of crime and delinquency. Your days are spent in an ordinary, organized routine: it's just you, the only barrier between your city and oblivion, dealing with the violence and pain that comes with being a superhero.

Everything is just normal. Then your dead husband appears in front of you, talking about alternate universes, spider societies and canonical disasters, and you discover that all your sorrows, losses and failures were possibly always meant to happen.

What the fuck.

Notes: No excuses. Let this chapter, full of Miguel, make up for the long time I was gone. I will keep the reader's background rather ambiguous, but it is implied that they also speaks Spanish.

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mild violence, subtle references to depression. As always, english is not my first lenguague.

Word count: 2.6K

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Impassive white eyes stared back at you with disdain. You looked with abject curiosity at the spidery pattern on his red suit, the white glasses and the sharp claws, and you couldn't help but wonder...

Who makes a spider suit for a cat? 

Undaunted, the animal yawned loudly and stretched lazily over the railing before leaping onto the pristine marble floor, completely silent and oblivious to your anomalous presence. He waved his orange tail and stretched the red patterns that hugged his hind legs.

You did not have the opportunity to entertain yourself with her pretty pink pads. A gloved hand brushed your shoulder, and you turned your masked face to observe your guide's own grim expression.    

"Come with me." Miguel said. "I'll show you around before introducing you to the rest of Society."

Silently, you nodded. The man walked two steps ahead of you. His broad, imposing figure was like a bronze spur, parting the sea of arachnid entities that watched you with open curiosity. 

As he made his way through the crowd, you quietly followed in his footsteps. Grateful for the foresight to keep your mask in place, you analyzed the discordant structure of the building that surrounded you. You noticed the long corridors and open configuration: designed to facilitate mobility for your kind. 

Miguel moved forward, and you watched his impassive figure with stern eyes. You wondered if he too had become Orpheus in his willingness to claim you back, and now feared to look back and lose his Eurydice. Perhaps the anguish in his gaze would be enough to draw you into the shadows and lose you forever. Would he then be blessed to work and move the gods with craftsmanship born of his terrible grief?

Was it so for you? You could not claim that your deeds after his death were unselfish and sincere: you did not seek to soften the wind with your tender weeping, nor to drown the rushing waters with the song of your heroic prowess. The resolution of your vengeance was your reward: an analgesic balm to numb the turmoil of your burning soul. 

Together, you entered the lift... You watched the changing landscape. On the glass, you saw Miguel's ponderous silhouette, stern and rigid. The pattern of his suit resembled your own. But your own profile was outlined with sharper lines, and your web shooters were not exposed, but hidden in the webbing patterns on your wrists.

The door opened, and you followed him through large, well-lit rooms, through huge recreation rooms, and through small, immaculate, familiar laboratories. You carefully analyzed the information he gave you along the way: where to find the scientists in charge of certain labs, the optimum hours for accessing the training rooms, the menu in the main cafeteria (a burger with Miguel's mask on it? Santo Dios...). Finally, he took you to his own office. On one of the top floors, of course. Just like your universe. 

When the lift stopped in his office, your mask retracted. Miguel did a quick double take, pursed his lips and looked up; you followed his gaze to see a red light flashing rapidly on one of the screens above the platform. 

You heard Miguel's grunt as Lyla appeared over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before turning to face the man:

"An anomaly is causing trouble on Earth-1048. Homeworld Spider-Man is already on the scene, but he's limited to minimizing the destruction around him."

"Copy that." Miguel said. He ran a hand over his face, holding the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut, and the gesture seemed so familiar that you almost let out the breath you were holding between your lips. "I have to deal with this. I'll talk to Jessica, she can show you the room you can use as your own."

"I can go with you." You finally spoke.

Miguel looked at you in surprise. But he quickly frowned and replied:

"No, it's too soon. I'll be able to show you how we deal with the anomalies once you're settled in and we know more about your universe."

Your universe. Like a wave crashing against rock, you felt heat coursing through your veins and burning in the pit of your stomach. You felt that in your rage, the marks on your suit might be burned into your skin forever. 

You blinked. Ignoring the fire in your chest, you responded:

"I could settle in better if I knew what I was dealing with." 

Miguel studied you. His red eyes scanned your face: your steel eyes, your unbending brows, your closed lips, and he said no more. Sharing a last look with Lyla, he nodded with finality, and she took it upon herself to open the portal for the two of you. 

"Let 's go, then."

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

It was a cold morning in Harlem. The white sky barely hinted at the day's pale rays, and the streets were shrouded in a thick, damp gray haze. As you and Miguel landed on a lamppost overlooking the East River and the small buildings lining the street, an ominous silence settled over the scene at your feet. 

You sat back on your heels, scanning the nondescript landscape, and Miguel followed, his back stiff and his hands clenched into fists as he exhaled:

"The signal seems to be coming from this warehouse." He gestured with his chin, and you peered intently at the gray silhouette of a building surrounded by tall grills and long containers. A cloud of gray smoke rose through the haze, and with a mighty leap you launched yourself in its direction, hearing Miguel's nets snap past you.

Soon you were perched on the railing of a neighboring building, with a clear view of the ruined courtyard. Sparks rained down from the ruined batteries; small fires burned and cracks in the concrete marred the once peaceful scene.

Rubble crunched beneath your feet as you landed in the courtyard. In the distance, you heard a muffled, heavy thud. You glanced cautiously at a large metal curtain to your right as a deafening screech pierced the jealous silence. Beside you, Miguel brought his knees to his chest and the two of you jumped away just as the door shot in your direction. 

A red figure flew through the air. With a start, you threw your nets around the man's torso, jumping just in time to catch him before his body slammed into a large metal container. 

"Nice catch." Gasped the Spider-Man in your arms. "Rhino's got an arm."

"Does he throw you often?" 

"Well, yeah." The young man cleared his throat, pulling himself to his feet with a little help. "But I don't usually get caught by..." He tilted his head to the side, curious.

"Spider-Woman." You conceded. 

Her white glasses widened comically as he whistled under his breath: 

"Awesome!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Miguel's orange nets wrapped around Rhino's massive arm, and you spun on your heels as the beast slammed into the tower Miguel was standing on.

"He's really mad!" Spider-Man exhaled as he rushed to your side. "I don't understand, according to my intel, Aleksei's transfer still hasn't been coordinated. He is still in the custody of the police."

"He's not Aleksei Sytsevich!" Miguel shouted. He had dodged a large stone and landed next to you. "His name is Alexander O'Hirn. He is the Rhino of dimension 26496." 

"Oh!" Spider-Man exclaimed. "I knew you weren't my Rhino! We've always had this connection, you know?" 

The man lunged at you, furious. You caught a glimpse of a crane with a container suspended in the air, and you pulled the arm of the crane just as the man was passing underneath the box. The container landed on top of his armour with a clatter that made your ears ring. 

"Watch out!" 

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you out of the way of a huge chunk of concrete.

"Not one, but three Spider-Creeps!" he growled.

"Hey, that's not very nice of you." Spider-Man landed a kick to the chest, but Rhino didn't move. He grabbed the hero's legs and slammed him into the wreckage of the crane. Taking advantage of the distraction, Miguel jumped up and punched him in the face, the only exposed part of his body.

Rhino let go of Spider-Man and took a step back. With a leap, you stood on a low beam and surveyed your surroundings. As the man jerked and rammed into Miguel, you activated your drones; small winged spiders that flew over the villain's head, firing electric shocks that immobilised him with a scream.

"His face!" you exclaimed, and Miguel leapt to your side to dodge the rocks Rhino dropped as he stomped on the concrete. 

Spider-Man, snapping out of his daze, noticed the same thing you did: the small visible part of his face was hyperemic and sweaty. "His suit must be restricting his ventilation!"

So this would be a battle of endurance. Good, you thought to yourself. You've been doing this for years. 

With a nod, Miguel and Spider-Man squared up firmly and jumped into the fray.

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

As the portal to your dimension closed behind you, silence fell. Michael's gaze was on the horizon, and yours was on him. It was not his red eyes that you caressed with your thoughts, but you could taste the sweetness of his cheek beneath your lips. His hair was shorter, but his curly eyelashes were thicker than yours: a feature that made you playfully envious in the past.

In the warm, brief light of the streetlamps, his face was just as beautiful. His bronze skin was a ghostly contrast to the impassivity of the bustling nightlife, a backdrop to his stern profile. 

He looked at you too. And his pupils wandered over the arch of your lips, your eyebrows and cheekbones, the slope of your neck and your bare ears. And you thought he was reflecting the same doubt that plagued you: because he is Miguel, but not your Miguel. And you were never his wife, but your smile is the same, and he only replaced your name with silence, and the space he occupied with you was filled with melancholy.

"You did a good job." Miguel said after a prolonged silence. 

"Thank you." You replied with a small smile. "You weren't so bad yourself."

"Hm." He snorted. With a hand on his hip, he arched an eyebrow and looked you up and down, half mocking, half stern. "Now you know what we're up against. You can run away now. We won't blame you. I certainly wouldn't."

You moistened your lips and took a slow breath. So close, your arm inches from his shoulder, you felt his warmth, the energy of his holographic suit, his solid build and musky scent. 

"You wouldn't reach me." You finally replied, and your heart skipped a beat as a grin revealed his sharp fangs. 

"I already did."

"I was distracted."

"Sure." 

He straightened up, and you took advantage of the brief appraisal that he was giving to the red horizon to revel in his presence... just one more time. 

In your solitude, his face is your guest. With his presence, an outdated image shatters beneath your feet. This new precision is yours. And even if he were to leave you that night, his voice muffled by the wind, Miguel would not leave you. His eyes would remain in the burning sunset and his posture in the steadiness of the stars. 

When he looked back at you, your expression was already composed. Silently, you tilted your chin in the direction of the busy streets, and when he raised a questioning eyebrow, you spread your arms wide and threw yourself into the void. 

Your mask returned to your face and your wings spread from your arms. Behind you you heard a faint scream and a short curse in Spanish. You felt, before you saw, his broad, imposing figure leaping from the edge of the building, and you used the air currents to move across the city with ease.

The buildings blurred at the edge of your vision. Though your mask filtered out the piercing whistle of the air, you still felt the pressure in your ears; and you didn't look at him, but felt his presence, imagining him dodging antennas, aerial surveillance and flocks of birds skimming skilfully across the crowded sky. 

You locked arms and landed in a somersault, legs cramped and right hand braced against one of the buildings, halfway across a complex of tall glass towers.

"Look." 

Below you, the city lit up like fireflies in the night. Thirteen hundred feet away, the cars and streetlights looked like tiny fiery wisps traversing the busy, colorful streets. And in the distance, the black silhouette of Alchemax stood out against the red horizon.

"I recognise this place." Miguel said, leaning over to stare in awe at a small purple-roofed shop on the side of the road. "It used to be a very popular artisan bakery in my universe." 

"It's quite popular here too."

"I still have fond memories of their vanilla cake. I would get it for all... my events." He finished lowly.

"I used to buy the orange bread," you hummed understandingly, shaking your head disappointedly. "And now I can't eat citrus."

He looked at you in silence... and then laughed, shaking his head in astonishment, "Neither can I."

In the privacy of your mask, you smiled back. And with the first dark brushstroke on the horizon came your resolution. 

"I can help you." You began, looking away from the night to stare at his cloaked profile. "But I will not be part of the Society."

He bowed his head, listening.

"I have work to do here." Your work at Alchemax; the company you were leading was just beginning to take a course that you could be proud of. Being Spider-Woman; a full-time job you couldn't give up: you were already the symbol of your city. An embodiment of hope, perseverance and goodness. "But... I understand that your work with the multiverse is an even more arduous and complex task, and I offer you my services as an advisor. If you ever need help... you know where to find me."

A hero must be impartial. And to you... his mere presence would be a constant challenge, an exercise in moral skill tested in the crucible of your everyday life. How could you not choose him? The strange man with your husband's voice. The friend whom you love the most, the one who lives in the moments of your delirium. 

Because, after him, living seems distant. You have no anger left... only pain. And although your better judgment led you not to get involved with the Society, you could not find the strength within yourself to ignore him. Even though this Miguel is not yours, letting him go is almost like losing him again.

His mask pulled back and you watched him run a hand through his hair, tousling his auburn locks as he nodded slowly. 

"I understand." 

He stood to his feet. He held out a hand to you, and you followed as he took one last, searching look over your city.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. He gave you a long look, and in the end he just said:

"Then I'm counting on you." 

You remained standing, staring at his silhouette, even as the portal swallowed his dark figure.

"What have I just gotten myself into?" you whispered into the empty air.

@alicefallsintotherabbithole @digipaw2-0 @sunshowernaps @qiaipia @luciiferian @saltyllamakidwombat @amnmich @autismsupermusicalassassin @miggyyyyohara @oscarissac2099 @songbirdlully

[afterthegreatunknown]

Hi!! Do you have any hcs about the Quagmire triplets? :))

Hello anon! I have headcanons for the Quagmires triplets, book-verse and Netflix show, being different continuities.

As I am in a Netflix ASOUE mood today, the headcanons about the Quagmires triplets headcanons are for the Netflix show. It's rather long, so it's going to go underneath the cut after Duncan's headcanons.

I do hope you enjoy my Netflix-based headcanons!

Duncan Quagmire

Alongside wanting to be a journalist, Duncan has a habit of writing down interesting history facts in his commonplace notebook.

Has terrible handwriting. Worse, Duncan sometimes eats when writing, so there’s food stains on a few pages that smudges his already messy handwriting.

As there is evidence of a low-key romance between Violet and Duncan in the books (very low-key), Duncan has a crush on Violet, thinking he’s subtle with it (he’s not).

Gets close to Hector during post-TVV. Duncan isn’t sure why, but he thinks it may be due to both of them being close on the verge of crying when they feel like it.

Even though he’s the oldest, Duncan is the timidest of his siblings, and would prefer to avoid any means of confrontation. Duncan stopping Carmelita bullying the Baudelaires was him taking assertive action for the first time.

While not really a night owl, Duncan can survive the day with only five hours of sleep without getting (too) cranky and snapping at someone.

Always likes to keep his hair short as well as neat. Duncan doesn’t mind long hair (he even grew it out once to match Quigley for an April Fools prank), but he personally thinks the long hair image is not for him, for he is neat and organized.

Would never think about using physical force in any way or form, even if the person probably deserves it; Duncan is a true pacifist.

Is not a swearer, because he doesn’t know many swears words/too polite.

Duncan has perfect vision (or at least better than Isadora’s vison). As such, he’s the first to spot Quigley at the ruins of Anwhistle Aquatic.

Isadora Quagmire

Alongside her interest in poetry, she has a love of cursive. Isadora can also copy other people handwriting. She can’t copy Duncan’s handwriting though.

Due to having long hair, Isadora likes to experiment with different hairstyles, usually with her mother’s help. The main style she likes the most is her default down look.

Isadora doesn’t like to use physical force, so more often than not Isadora will try insulting a person to their face. That said, Isadora almost throws a punch at Carmelita when the girl tried to bully Duncan and got him close to crying, but stop due to Duncan’s insisting

Is bi, like her namesake (Isadora Duncan). Isadora has crush on Klaus. For a while, she had a crush on Carmelita until the ‘bullying Duncan’ incident made Isadora do a 180.

Isadora’s favorite meal of the day is breakfast. Her favorite type of breakfast food is pancakes (with fruit), so she’s always extra happy when it’s being served.

Definitely know some swear words. Isadora learns them all through tutors and visitors to the household who believed were swearing in private, when the reality is Isadora was eavesdropping on them.

While having a great relationship with her brothers, Isadora wishes that she has a sister she can talk to. There are things Duncan and Quigley will never understand completely.

Isadora likes to doodles random things in her commonplace notebook. As she is not the greatest artist, Isadora’s doodles sometimes look similar to cursive handwriting.

Isadora has a fear of heights, so her climbing up the Self-Sustaining Hot Air Mobile Home was super scary. Living in it is such, a challenge for her, but she managed.

Quigley Quagmire

Alongside his interest in cartography, Quigley has a minor interest in photography. He really likes to take photos of the night sky, especially if the moon is full.

Is a prankster, but only if he’s in the mood to cause trouble. He roped Duncan in the past for April Fools due to being identical to one another and has no regrets.

Despite being the youngest, Quigley is mistaken for the oldest because he’s much more assertive than Duncan, which creates the ‘oldest triplet’ impression.

Messy Eater™. At times, Quigley will eat with the wrong utensil or eat by hand if there are no utensil around for him to use.

Always has the wish to grow out his hair. It’s not like Quigley hates his short and neat hair, he just wants a look that reflects him being a messy and disorganized person. As such, Quigley post-Quagmire fire didn’t bother to cut his hair to live out his dream.

Is not only a light sleeper, but Quigley also has difficult falling to sleep. If he’s disturbed by any noise, it’s hard for him to go back to sleep with ease.

Quigley once tried taking accordion lessons, but dropped it because it was much more difficult than he imagined. Reading about Snicket made Quigley wish he continued it.

Honestly did not except himself to get a crush on Violet after knowing her for a few hours, but Quigley has no regrets with their implied first kiss.

Hates himself for looking inside the Sugar Bowl. He wished he never look inside it.

Quigley only knew Hector for a few minutes, but he 100% trusts the handyman.

[the-eeveekins]

The 16th Day of G-Witch: Father and Child

Alright, let's get this over with. Look, if you like this episode or Guel, you might want to skip this one because I'm about to be a hater here. Also as a heads up, I decided to avoid the shot of Seethia's body in my screencaps, because as much as I dislike this episode, that's still a tough moment and tough to look at.

This episode pisses me off, and it's IMO unarguably the worst episode in the entire series. It's all so incredible pointless and irrelevant to the main story, and ultimately a gigantic waste of time that should have been spent elsewhere. Olcott and the Dawn of Fold do not play any role in the rest of the series, and the short 5 second scene in the final episode felt more tacked on to try and even remotely justify why nearly an entire episode was spent on them. Guel is not that integral to the main story that he deserved a chunk of an entire episode dedicated to his development and essentially putting him in the main character seat for an episode. The only impact this episode had later on in the show was so Guel could recognize that one kid on Earth who let slip Shaddiq's secret. Which was already a ridiculous coincidence that it could have been replaced with nearly anything.

It's insulting and sexist that in the first Gundam series with a female main character, they completely sidelined her for an entire episode just to let the most popular male character play at being the MC for an episode that has almost nothing to do with the main story and was designed to be more like a traditional Gundam episode than what G-Witch was. It feels like something that staff were ultimately forced to keep in so the executives who feared the show failing could distract fans who hated it with the standard Gundam tropes and a male character in the lead role, like jingling shiny keys in front of someone's face. And the worst part is? It worked. A chunk of the fanbase LOVED this episode because it felt like a classic Gundam episode and made them want to throw away what made G-Witch special and unique for more of the same shit they've had for 40+ years.

And all of that cost the show time it desperately needed to spend on the main story and characters with way more importance than Guel or Olcott. The only good thing I have to say about this episode is that the Prodoros IS a cool mobile suit. I hope it gets a model kit someday.

I've got to agree with Norea here. Nika is incredibly naive about the situation Earthian's face. Wanting to solve problems without violence is certainly a worthwhile goal, but not one that is always practical. Sometimes violence and war is necessary to overthrow tyranny and oppression. It was made clear in S1 than when Earthians peacefully protest their terrible conditions, they're met with violence by the Benerit Group. And when peace is no longer an option, you have to use violence to fight back.

Likewise, I actually think Shaddiq gets a bad rap from a large part of the fanbase. Some of that is rightfully because of his actions towards Miorine, but a lot of it I think comes from the sort of people who just like to yell "WAR IS BAD" and do not comprehend that in some situations, war is necessary to overthrow oppressive groups like the Benerit Group and Spacian Governments.

Giving weapons to Earthain groups is a solid idea that will even the playing field and make it difficult if not impossible for space to opress Earth through force, forcing them to the negotiating table for equality, and if all else fails, kicking them off Earth and reclaiming their resources themselves. My only concern with Shaddiq's approach is that I'm not sure he wouldn't try to lead Earthians even further into oppressing Spacians as revenge.

This is actually the one time I don't fault Guel for trying to do something "heroic." Trying to save Seethia, while probably being ultimately pointless, was a good thing to do. It's just a shame that, despite literally having a child die in his arms due to an attack by the Benerit Group, he learns all the wrong lessons from it.

This conversation serves absolutely no purpose. It doesn't actually make any sense (he was a member of Dominicus, Earthains attacked him and killed his family and now he...works for an Earthian terrorist group?) and ultimately it's a completely meaningless detail that has absolutely no effect on anything.

And finally, the cherry on top, the downfall of Guel's character. I really tried to like him, but this was very much the beginning of the end. After going through a trauma conga line and learning NOT to play the hero, Guel finally sees what his father's company has been doing to Earthians his whole life, and even has an innocent child die in his arms because of the attack.

And the lesson Guel takes away from all of this is that he wants to save his father's company and keep the oppression machine going? I get that maybe Guel being the one to fail and not break free from the shadow of his abusive parents was the whole point of his character arc (Kashtanka), but it's still disappointing.

And after all that bullshit, we drop these incredibly important details in a post-credit scene at the end of the episode. All of this information, from what Notrette intended to do with Quiet Zero and what happened to her, was way more important to the story than everything that happened in the previous 20 minutes. But all it gets is a short scene at the end of the episode and is never further elaborated on.

This should have been the episode we learned more about Notrette and Quiet Zero, maybe even more about Prospera and Delling. Instead we got Guel and Olcott's pointless adventure.

[shampaisthinking]

We are creating a restless generation!

Believe it or not, this generation has no specific goals. They have no ideological ambitions. They have no sacred mission.

They don't read books, they don't read newspapers. They are also reluctant to play outdoor sports.

They don't like walking in the sun. They don't want to get wet in the rain. They are allergic to mud, grass, and leaves. They wait for half an hour for a rickshaw to go to a half-kilometer destination.

They are restless. A very restless generation.

They will not greet unfamiliar seniors. They will walk past them and walk away. Or they will walk away with their feet touching their bodies. They have no tendency to say sorry. They will engage in pointless arguments. You will not get a polite attitude, nor will you get a sense of gratitude. Their arrogant behavior and proud gait will make you cower in fear. If you try to advise them to be restrained, there is a high chance of danger and harm.

You are riding a public bus, and you will see that the youngest boy will compete more for a vacant seat. He will push you and sit down. He has nothing to do except stand and watch you, who are twice his age.

I was talking about this generation. In the most terrible sedition, this generation is supposed to stand in the assembly, but they find a chair for themselves. Where they are supposed to be silent, they try to impart knowledge.

They stay online all night, sleep all morning. They do not see the sunrise, they do not see the sunset. They are in bed at sunrise, they are on their mobile at sunset.

They are addicted to fast food.

They dislike outdoor games. They find comfort indoors. To put it bluntly, online games are their first priority.

They do not read history. They do not understand literature. They do not know Nazrul, they do not know Rabindranath, they do not know Farrukh. Saadi, Rumi, Hafiz are very unfamiliar topics. They don't understand books, they don't read books, they don't buy books.

They are non-skilled. They can't walk, they can't run, they don't know how to climb trees, they can't swim. They don't have the courage to cross the ocean, they don't have the indomitable willpower to cut through mountains and make a path. They don't have enthusiasm. They don't have passion. They don't have honest courage. Their only skill is to be able to scroll through a smart phone quickly.

They don't have values, they don't have respect, they don't have discipline.

They don't know when to move, when to stop, when to speak, when to listen. They don't even know what they don't know.

Whatever you do in life, don't hand over the key to your happiness to someone else. Never be so dependent on someone that their slightest negligence makes you feel bad, especially mentally.

Are you sad? Then listen to Manna De's songs. Make yourself a cup of steaming coffee. Take a walk in the sweet afternoon sun. Or immerse yourself in a book by your favorite author. If you have any creativity, let it be your companion.

Giving statuses mocking others, expressing your sorrows and weaknesses in front of everyone—these are not signs of a mature mentality. If you feel too lonely or upset, darken the room and sit quietly for a while, pray.

Remember old memories, laugh, cry—but develop such a relationship with yourself that even if you don't find anyone in the days of sorrow, you can become your closest friend.

If you succeed in something, reward yourself. If you fail, be a little proud of yourself, but don't give up. But never make the mistake of looking for your perfection in the eyes of others.

Because, people will always prefer to see your flaws more than your virtues. If you can, that is enough. Consider it normal to eat alone at a restaurant, don't feel ridiculous spending time alone in a park.

Make yourself financially independent, so that if you are in a bad mood, you can buy yourself a piece of chocolate, give yourself a nice gift on your birthday. Share the joy of your birthday with underprivileged children, buy yourself your favorite clothes.

Gift yourself some flowers occasionally. Keep a flower in the corner of your room, its beautiful fragrance will make you feel good. It is not your responsibility to win everyone's heart, because no one in the world has been able to be acceptable to everyone. So learn to say "no" where necessary.

"My parents don't understand me, my friends don't give me time, my close people neglect me" - don't indulge in these thoughts. Because these are actually your own created mental stress.

Why make yourself a cause of annoyance for others? Instead, develop a personality in which your presence creates a sense of respect.

Shampa....... ✍️