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[cfrocars]

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Autoenshittification

Forget F1: the only car race that matters now is the race to turn your car into a digital extraction machine, a high-speed inkjet printer on wheels, stealing your private data as it picks your pocket. Your car’s digital infrastructure is a costly, dangerous nightmare — but for automakers in pursuit of postcapitalist utopia, it’s a dream they can’t give up on.

Your car is stuffed full of microchips, a fact the world came to appreciate after the pandemic struck and auto production ground to a halt due to chip shortages. Of course, that wasn’t the whole story: when the pandemic started, the automakers panicked and canceled their chip orders, only to immediately regret that decision and place new orders.

But it was too late: semiconductor production had taken a serious body-blow, and when Big Car placed its new chip orders, it went to the back of a long, slow-moving line. It was a catastrophic bungle: microchips are so integral to car production that a car is basically a computer network on wheels that you stick your fragile human body into and pray.

The car manufacturers got so desperate for chips that they started buying up washing machines for the microchips in them, extracting the chips and discarding the washing machines like some absurdo-dystopian cyberpunk walnut-shelling machine:

https://www.autoevolution.com/news/desperate-times-companies-buy-washing-machines-just-to-rip-out-the-chips-187033.html

These digital systems are a huge problem for the car companies. They are the underlying cause of a precipitous decline in car quality. From touch-based digital door-locks to networked sensors and cameras, every digital system in your car is a source of endless repair nightmares, costly recalls and cybersecurity vulnerabilities:

https://www.reuters.com/business/autos-transportation/quality-new-vehicles-us-declining-more-tech-use-study-shows-2023-06-22/

What’s more, drivers hate all the digital bullshit, from the janky touchscreens to the shitty, wildly insecure apps. Digital systems are drivers’ most significant point of dissatisfaction with the automakers’ products:

https://www.theverge.com/23801545/car-infotainment-customer-satisifaction-survey-jd-power

Even the automakers sorta-kinda admit that this is a problem. Back in 2020 when Massachusetts was having a Right-to-Repair ballot initiative, Big Car ran these unfuckingbelievable scare ads that basically said, “Your car spies on you so comprehensively that giving anyone else access to its systems will let murderers stalk you to your home and kill you:

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

But even amid all the complaining about cars getting stuck in the Internet of Shit, there’s still not much discussion of why the car-makers are making their products less attractive, less reliable, less safe, and less resilient by stuffing them full of microchips. Are car execs just the latest generation of rubes who’ve been suckered by Silicon Valley bullshit and convinced that apps are a magic path to profitability?

Nope. Car execs are sophisticated businesspeople, and they’re surfing capitalism’s latest — and last — hot trend: dismantling capitalism itself.

Now, leftists have been predicting the death of capitalism since The Communist Manifesto, but even Marx and Engels warned us not to get too frisky: capitalism, they wrote, is endlessly creative, constantly reinventing itself, re-emerging from each crisis in a new form that is perfectly adapted to the post-crisis reality:

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/31/books/review/a-spectre-haunting-china-mieville.html

But capitalism has finally run out of gas. In his forthcoming book, Techno Feudalism: What Killed Capitalism, Yanis Varoufakis proposes that capitalism has died — but it wasn’t replaced by socialism. Rather, capitalism has given way to feudalism:

https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/451795/technofeudalism-by-varoufakis-yanis/9781847927279

Under capitalism, capital is the prime mover. The people who own and mobilize capital — the capitalists — organize the economy and take the lion’s share of its returns. But it wasn’t always this way: for hundreds of years, European civilization was dominated by rents, not markets.

A “rent” is income that you get from owning something that other people need to produce value. Think of renting out a house you own: not only do you get paid when someone pays you to live there, you also get the benefit of rising property values, which are the result of the work that all the other homeowners, business owners, and residents do to make the neighborhood more valuable.

The first capitalists hated rent. They wanted to replace the “passive income” that landowners got from taxing their serfs’ harvest with active income from enclosing those lands and grazing sheep in order to get wool to feed to the new textile mills. They wanted active income — and lots of it.

Capitalist philosophers railed against rent. The “free market” of Adam Smith wasn’t a market that was free from regulation — it was a market free from rents. The reason Smith railed against monopolists is because he (correctly) understood that once a monopoly emerged, it would become a chokepoint through which a rentier could cream off the profits he considered the capitalist’s due:

https://locusmag.com/2021/03/cory-doctorow-free-markets/

Today, we live in a rentier’s paradise. People don’t aspire to create value — they aspire to capture it. In Survival of the Richest, Doug Rushkoff calls this “going meta”: don’t provide a service, just figure out a way to interpose yourself between the provider and the customer:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/13/collapse-porn/#collapse-porn

Don’t drive a cab, create Uber and extract value from every driver and rider. Better still: don’t found Uber, invest in Uber options and extract value from the people who invest in Uber. Even better, invest in derivatives of Uber options and extract value from people extracting value from people investing in Uber, who extract value from drivers and riders. Go meta.

This is your brain on the four-hour-work-week, passive income mind-virus. In Techno Feudalism, Varoufakis deftly describes how the new “Cloud Capital” has created a new generation of rentiers, and how they have become the richest, most powerful people in human history.

Shopping at Amazon is like visiting a bustling city center full of stores — but each of those stores’ owners has to pay the majority of every sale to a feudal landlord, Emperor Jeff Bezos, who also decides which goods they can sell and where they must appear on the shelves. Amazon is full of capitalists, but it is not a capitalist enterprise. It’s a feudal one:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

This is the reason that automakers are willing to enshittify their products so comprehensively: they were one of the first industries to decouple rents from profits. Recall that the reason that Big Car needed billions in bailouts in 2008 is that they’d reinvented themselves as loan-sharks who incidentally made cars, lending money to car-buyers and then “securitizing” the loans so they could be traded in the capital markets.

Even though this strategy brought the car companies to the brink of ruin, it paid off in the long run. The car makers got billions in public money, paid their execs massive bonuses, gave billions to shareholders in buybacks and dividends, smashed their unions, fucked their pensioned workers, and shipped jobs anywhere they could pollute and murder their workforce with impunity.

Car companies are on the forefront of postcapitalism, and they understand that digital is the key to rent-extraction. Remember when BMW announced that it was going to rent you the seatwarmer in your own fucking car?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/02/big-river/#beemers

Not to be outdone, Mercedes announced that they were going to rent you your car’s accelerator pedal, charging an extra $1200/year to unlock a fully functional acceleration curve:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/11/23/23474969/mercedes-car-subscription-faster-acceleration-feature-price

This is the urinary tract infection business model: without digitization, all your car’s value flowed in a healthy stream. But once the car-makers add semiconductors, each one of those features comes out in a painful, burning dribble, with every button on that fakakta touchscreen wired directly into your credit-card.

But it’s just for starters. Computers are malleable. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing Complete Von Neumann Machine, which can run every program we know how to write. Once they add networked computers to your car, the Car Lords can endlessly twiddle the knobs on the back end, finding new ways to extract value from you:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

That means that your car can track your every movement, and sell your location data to anyone and everyone, from marketers to bounty-hunters looking to collect fees for tracking down people who travel out of state for abortions to cops to foreign spies:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/n7enex/tool-shows-if-car-selling-data-privacy4cars-vehicle-privacy-report

Digitization supercharges financialization. It lets car-makers offer subprime auto-loans to desperate, poor people and then killswitch their cars if they miss a payment:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4U2eDJnwz_s

Subprime lending for cars would be a terrible business without computers, but digitization makes it a great source of feudal rents. Car dealers can originate loans to people with teaser rates that quickly blow up into payments the dealer knows their customer can’t afford. Then they repo the car and sell it to another desperate person, and another, and another:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/27/boricua/#looking-for-the-joke-with-a-microscope

Digitization also opens up more exotic options. Some subprime cars have secondary control systems wired into their entertainment system: miss a payment and your car radio flips to full volume and bellows an unstoppable, unmutable stream of threats. Tesla does one better: your car will lock and immobilize itself, then blare its horn and back out of its parking spot when the repo man arrives:

https://tiremeetsroad.com/2021/03/18/tesla-allegedly-remotely-unlocks-model-3-owners-car-uses-smart-summon-to-help-repo-agent/

Digital feudalism hasn’t stopped innovating — it’s just stopped innovating good things. The digital device is an endless source of sadistic novelties, like the cellphones that disable your most-used app the first day you’re late on a payment, then work their way down the other apps you rely on for every day you’re late:

https://restofworld.org/2021/loans-that-hijack-your-phone-are-coming-to-india/

Usurers have always relied on this kind of imaginative intimidation. The loan-shark’s arm-breaker knows you’re never going to get off the hook; his goal is in intimidating you into paying his boss first, liquidating your house and your kid’s college fund and your wedding ring before you default and he throws you off a building.

Thanks to the malleability of computerized systems, digital arm-breakers have an endless array of options they can deploy to motivate you into paying them first, no matter what it costs you:

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

Car-makers are trailblazers in imaginative rent-extraction. Take VIN-locking: this is the practice of adding cheap microchips to engine components that communicate with the car’s overall network. After a new part is installed in your car, your car’s computer does a complex cryptographic handshake with the part that requires an unlock code provided by an authorized technician. If the code isn’t entered, the car refuses to use that part.

VIN-locking has exploded in popularity. It’s in your iPhone, preventing you from using refurb or third-party replacement parts:

https://doctorow.medium.com/apples-cement-overshoes-329856288d13

It’s in fuckin’ ventilators, which was a nightmare during lockdown as hospital techs nursed their precious ventilators along by swapping parts from dead systems into serviceable ones:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/3azv9b/why-repair-techs-are-hacking-ventilators-with-diy-dongles-from-poland

And of course, it’s in tractors, along with other forms of remote killswitch. Remember that feelgood story about John Deere bricking the looted Ukrainian tractors whose snitch-chips showed they’d been relocated to Russia?

https://doctorow.medium.com/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors-bc93f471b9c8

That wasn’t a happy story — it was a cautionary tale. After all, John Deere now controls the majority of the world’s agricultural future, and they’ve boobytrapped those ubiquitous tractors with killswitches that can be activated by anyone who hacks, takes over, or suborns Deere or its dealerships.

Control over repair isn’t limited to gouging customers on parts and service. When a company gets to decide whether your device can be fixed, it can fuck you over in all kinds of ways. Back in 2019, Tim Apple told his shareholders to expect lower revenues because people were opting to fix their phones rather than replace them:

https://www.apple.com/newsroom/2019/01/letter-from-tim-cook-to-apple-investors/

By usurping your right to decide who fixes your phone, Apple gets to decide whether you can fix it, or whether you must replace it. Problem solved — and not just for Apple, but for car makers, tractor makers, ventilator makers and more. Apple leads on this, even ahead of Big Car, pioneering a “recycling” program that sees trade-in phones shredded so they can’t possibly be diverted from an e-waste dump and mined for parts:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

John Deere isn’t sleeping on this. They’ve come up with a valuable treasure they extract when they win the Right-to-Repair: Deere singles out farmers who complain about its policies and refuses to repair their tractors, stranding them with six-figure, two-ton paperweight:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/31/dealers-choice/#be-a-shame-if-something-were-to-happen-to-it

The repair wars are just a skirmish in a vast, invisible fight that’s been waged for decades: the War On General-Purpose Computing, where tech companies use the law to make it illegal for you to reconfigure your devices so they serve you, rather than their shareholders:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/01/10/lockdown-the-coming-war-on-general-purpose-computing/

The force behind this army is vast and grows larger every day. General purpose computers are antithetical to technofeudalism — all the rents extracted by technofeudalists would go away if others (tinkereres, co-ops, even capitalists!) were allowed to reconfigure our devices so they serve us.

You’ve probably noticed the skirmishes with inkjet printer makers, who can only force you to buy their ink at 20,000% markups if they can stop you from deciding how your printer is configured:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/07/inky-wretches/#epson-salty But we’re also fighting against insulin pump makers, who want to turn people with diabetes into walking inkjet printers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/10/loopers/#hp-ification

And companies that make powered wheelchairs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/08/chair-ish/#r2r

These companies start with people who have the least agency and social power and wreck their lives, then work their way up the privilege gradient, coming for everyone else. It’s called the “shitty technology adoption curve”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

Technofeudalism is the public-private-partnership from hell, emerging from a combination of state and private action. On the one hand, bailing out bankers and big business (rather than workers) after the 2008 crash and the covid lockdown decoupled income from profits. Companies spent billions more than they earned were still wildly profitable, thanks to those public funds.

But there’s also a policy dimension here. Some of those rentiers’ billions were mobilized to both deconstruct antitrust law (allowing bigger and bigger companies and cartels) and to expand “IP” law, turning “IP” into a toolsuite for controlling the conduct of a firm’s competitors, critics and customers:

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

IP is key to understanding the rise of technofeudalism. The same malleability that allows companies to “twiddle” the knobs on their services and keep us on the hook as they reel us in would hypothetically allow us to countertwiddle, seizing the means of computation:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

The thing that stands between you and an alternative app store, an interoperable social media network that you can escape to while continuing to message the friends you left behind, or a car that anyone can fix or unlock features for is IP, not technology. Under capitalism, that technology would already exist, because capitalists have no loyalty to one another and view each other’s margins as their own opportunities.

But under technofeudalism, control comes from rents (owning things), not profits (selling things). The capitalist who wants to participate in your iPhone’s “ecosystem” has to make apps and submit them to Apple, along with 30% of their lifetime revenues — they don’t get to sell you jailbreaking kit that lets you choose their app store.

Rent-seeking technology has a holy grail: control over “ring zero” — the ability to compel you to configure your computer to a feudalist’s specifications, and to verify that you haven’t altered your computer after it came into your possession:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/30/ring-minus-one/#drm-political-economy

For more than two decades, various would-be feudal lords and their court sorcerers have been pitching ways of doing this, of varying degrees of outlandishness.

At core, here’s what they envision: inside your computer, they will nest another computer, one that is designed to run a very simple set of programs, none of which can be altered once it leaves the factory. This computer — either a whole separate chip called a “Trusted Platform Module” or a region of your main processor called a secure enclave — can tally observations about your computer: which operating system, modules and programs it’s running.

Then it can cryptographically “sign” these observations, proving that they were made by a secure chip and not by something you could have modified. Then you can send this signed “attestation” to someone else, who can use it to determine how your computer is configured and thus whether to trust it. This is called “remote attestation.”

There are some cool things you can do with remote attestation: for example, two strangers playing a networked video game together can use attestations to make sure neither is running any cheat modules. Or you could require your cloud computing provider to use attestations that they aren’t stealing your data from the server you’re renting. Or if you suspect that your computer has been infected with malware, you can connect to someone else and send them an attestation that they can use to figure out whether you should trust it.

Today, there’s a cool remote attestation technology called “PrivacyPass” that replaces CAPTCHAs by having you prove to your own device that you are a human. When a server wants to make sure you’re a person, it sends a random number to your device, which signs that number along with its promise that it is acting on behalf of a human being, and sends it back. CAPTCHAs are all kinds of bad — bad for accessibility and privacy — and this is really great.

But the billions that have been thrown at remote attestation over the decades is only incidentally about solving CAPTCHAs or verifying your cloud server. The holy grail here is being able to make sure that you’re not running an ad-blocker. It’s being able to remotely verify that you haven’t disabled the bossware your employer requires. It’s the power to block someone from opening an Office365 doc with LibreOffice. It’s your boss’s ability to ensure that you haven’t modified your messaging client to disable disappearing messages before he sends you an auto-destructing memo ordering you to break the law.

And there’s a new remote attestation technology making the rounds: Google’s Web Environment Integrity, which will leverage Google’s dominance over browsers to allow websites to block users who run ad-blockers:

https://github.com/RupertBenWiser/Web-Environment-Integrity

There’s plenty else WEI can do (it would make detecting ad-fraud much easier), but for every legitimate use, there are a hundred ways this could be abused. It’s a technology purpose-built to allow rent extraction by stripping us of our right to technological self-determination.

Releasing a technology like this into a world where companies are willing to make their products less reliable, less attractive, less safe and less resilient in pursuit of rents is incredibly reckless and shortsighted. You want unauthorized bread? This is how you get Unauthorized Bread:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/amp/

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

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

[Image ID: The interior of a luxury car. There is a dagger protruding from the steering wheel. The entertainment console has been replaced by the text 'You wouldn't download a car,' in MPAA scare-ad font. Outside of the windscreen looms the Matrix waterfall effect. Visible in the rear- and side-view mirror is the driver: the figure from Munch's 'Scream.' The screen behind the steering-wheel has been replaced by the menacing red eye of HAL9000 from Stanley Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey.']

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

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

[v1sexual]

Could I pls have vi x reader who is a huge movie buff?

cinema ; vi (arcane)

request by : anon

note : as a huge movie buff myself, i absolutely love request. basing this request off me and my friend's reaction to 'long legs' by nicholas cage. spoiler : me and my bestie absolutely hated it *sighs*

content warning : swearing , op projecting and bitching about long legs

it's you and vi's monthly cinema date night. ever since you and her officially became girlfriends, going to the cinema monthly easily became a tradition. you've always been a big movie buff, something you got from your dad.

for tonight's movie, you and vi watched the latest showing for nicholas cage's new horror movie, 'longlegs'. it was highly praised online, it was even called "one of the scariest horror films". because of that, you and vi's expectations were through the roof.

"you ready for this shortcake?" vi whispered, her breath tickling your ear. you scoffed playfully and started cracking your fingers as the movie started, "i was born ready."

the movie ended around 10 minutes ago, you and vi sat inside her jeep. she looked at you expectantly, her eyes scanning your face trying to figure out why you've been dead silent. normally, you're already yapping away about the movie.

"sooo..." she started. "what are our thoughts..?" vi knew that she absolutely hated the movie, she just wanted to know your thoughts first. she's not gonna lie to you and tell you that she liked it just because you did though.

you closed your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath as if bracing yourself. "i... it-"

"i fucking hated it," you sighed, "i feel like we wasted money watching that piece of crap. i mean- i absolutely enjoyed the first part of the movie, i loved the foreshadowing, the literal devil in the details, the atmosphere-"

vi chuckled and stared lovingly at you, listening to every word that came out of your mouth. she's always loved how passionate you are when it comes to the things you love. with every hand gesture and facial expression you had, vi's smile grew bigger.

"- we were scammed! robbed! i've never been so disappointed in a horror movie, even fucking megan was better! i just- i don't even know what to say anymore." you let out an exasperated groan, flailing your arms before turning to vi. "what about you baby? what do you think?"

"i hated it too baby," vi said, her lips twitching into a smile. you sighed in relief, "i'm so glad- wait- you're not just saying that because i didn't like the movie right?"

vi snorted, rolling her eyes playfully at you as she started the car. "you know me better than that shortcake," she said. "just because i love you doesn't mean i'll agree to everything you say baby."

you nodded in agreement, "that's great, amazing."

silence filled the car again, your eyes were glued to your phone and vi was focused on the road. a couple of minutes later, she finally pulled in to your shared apartment.

"posted your review already?" vi asked, holding the door open for you. you smiled and nodded, holding your phone out to vi. "just posted on letterboxd, rotten tomatoes, and on my blog."

vi laughed, slinging an arm around you before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "you're such a nerd."

"you love that about me though," you said with an eye roll, your arm wrapping around vi's waist. your girlfriend sighed lovingly, "i love everything about you shortcake."

you giggled, nuzzling against vi, "i love everything about you too."

despite the intense disappointment you had for the movie, you and vi still had a great time which was the most important thing. the rest of the night was spent cuddling with her and binge watching ya'lls favorite show, and the horrible movie was soon forgotten.

note : when i said i projected i meant it *sigh* im sorry if you liked longlegs lol. anyways, hoped u guys enjoyed this one !

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: I'm a sleepy babay.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

There’s a finality to the tap of your thumb. You hold the block button for a moment before you let it go. The window pops up asking if you’re sure. Yes. Certain. This is just a mistake and when you’re older and wiser, you’ll be thankful you made it. If you even remember it. 

You lay back and put your phone down. Done. Over. No more Jacob. No Andy.  

Maybe you’ll go back and see Kara again, or she can come here, even if she hates this town. You can at least be thankful that it reconnected you two, and you have to be grateful to learn a hard lesson. Don’t mess with strangers online. You’re better off alone. 

You close your eyes. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and yes, physically. Who knew scooping ice cream could be so much work? 

When you wake up, you’re sore and still groggy. The sun peers in at you brightly in the slat between the curtains. You groan and hide under the pillow. Your shift starts at noon. You can’t spend all morning doing nothing or the whole day is wasted. 

You drag yourself out of bed. Your grandma is still asleep. You’re sure she was up until dawn with her latest haul from the used book store. You clean up the cluster of wrappers around her chair and tidy up the kitchen, dumping the old coffee and brewing a new pot. 

You go to grab your phone and pause as you see an unusual notification. Your email? Huh. You don’t really use that besides for school. You open it up, thinking it might be about enrolment. No. It’s him. Andy. Holy moly. 

You scroll up and down, skimming the blocks of text. Oh god. You hit delete. You’re not reading all that. You said what needed to be said. 

You have your coffee and load the machine for whenever your mother gets out of bed. You eat and wash up, catching up on some Youtube before you make yourself get your uniform on. You head out, walking to work to enjoy the sunshine, and key in between tying on your apron and chatting with Gavin, the high schooler who does half-shifts every now and then.  

He leaves at four and you have your complimentary cone just after five. Peanut butter chocolate; classic. You eat at the window as you watch the mostly empty street. Your phone vibrates and you slide it out, hoping to take advantage of the lull. 

WhatsApp request? No way. The shammy recruiters always want a piece of you. At least you never fell for that. 

You bite into the cone and your phone suddenly blows up with Insta notifications. Bots! Ugh. So annoying. Every new follower is faceless with some generated name. You mute the notifications and put your cell away. You really are a boring person. 

As you look up, tires crush over a patch of gravel and your barely catch a glimpse of the car as it rolls just around the corner. You feel like you’ve missed something. Maybe your grandma is right about you always having your nose buried in a screen. Who is she to talk? She lives in her novels. 

Your shift ends at eight. You lock up and stop by the convenience store down the block. Nothing special, just a tray of carbonara you can shove in the nuke. As you pay at the counter, the door chimes to signal another customer. You accept your meagre meal as the other patron strides into the aisle. You don’t look over as you go directly for the door. You’re starving for more than a scoop. 

Your footsteps seem to echo through the dull streets. The frozen meal makes your hand hurt as your other holds your cell phone close. You text Kara as you finally get through the essay she wrote about Calvin’s latest antics. You wish you could convince her to play something. You feel aimless without an analog stick under your thumb. 

There’s a scuff, close behind you, loud enough to make you jump. You fumble with your phone and glance over your shoulder. You don’t see anything but the thick oak outside Luella’s. Ugh. Alright, you need to eat and lay down. It hasn’t been a busy day but still a long one. 

You pass through your grandma’s front door. She’s where she always is, in her chair, but something’s off. Something’s different. The smell of pollen hangs in the air and a pot stands on the coffee table with several white orchids tall in the soil. You frown. The last time you got her flowers, she didn’t even put them in a vase. 

“Oh, those are pretty,” you say. 

“Mph, not mine,” she grumbles, not looking up. 

“Not... who’s...” 

“Delivery man said your name. I didn’t read the card. I’m not a snoop.” 

You nod, thankful at least that she isn’t nosy. You go to the table and examine the pot. Who would send you flowers? 

You take the card off the tall pronged stick and open the envelope. You slide out the paper and unfold it. 

‘I know I’ve told you a million times, so I’ll show you how sorry I am instead. Yours always, Andy.’ 

You nearly drop your handful. Your eyes flick up to the pot and you have to stop yourself from pushing it off the table. What the hell? How... how does he know where you live? You never even mentioned what town you’re from. He only knows your college and it’s so small, he wouldn’t have heard of it. 

It’s enough to unsettle you. That he knows where you live is bad enough but the flowers themselves make a point. It’s not over. He’s not walking away but what else can you say to make him? Didn’t he get it? You think were pretty nice considering. 

“You got some boy?” Your grandma raises her eyes from the page. You can’t remember the last time she even bothered looking at you. 

“Not exactly,” you tuck the card away and put it in your pocket. “I’m going to make my dinner.” 

“Eh,” she grumbles, “fine. Get them flowers somewhere else. They stink.” 

You lift the vase, hugging it around the pot, and carry it from the room. You balance it against your hip and go into the kitchen. You use your free hand to pull open the freezer and put the pasta inside. You’re not so hungry anymore. 

🎮

The irises are pretty. The pot they came in is fancy, probably expensive. It underlines once more the gap between you and the real Jacob. Between you and Andy.

It only reminds you of how ridiculous you must have sounded. So, you just can’t understand why he’s doing this? Why is he still trying? For you? A girl with dwindling hopes of even finishing her low-tier college degree. 

You try to forget. You don’t have a shift that day but you can’t just sit around. Usually, you would. You’d hole up in your bedroom and play video games. Not anymore. He ruined that. You’re disappointed you’re letting him. 

You got down to the library for a while and wander around. There’s nothing there you’re very interested in. They still haven’t got the latest release in the series you’d read in high school. Oh well, you’ll wait around until one day you learn the fate of those revolutionary spies. 

You walk the main strip of the town. It isn’t very extensive. There’s a coffee shop and the used bookstore which also carries hobby supplies. There’s the same diner that’s been there since you were a kid and the interchangeable business that open and close year after year. 

There’s a vibe in your pocket. It’s not Kara. Another WhatsApp request, more Insta bots, and Discord. You haven’t been on the server in ages. You couldn’t keep up with all the channels and most of it was arguing about mining strategies. 

It’s Andy. Frig. You should’ve blocked him there too. You just hadn’t thought of it. 

‘Did you like the flowers?’ 

You don’t answer but he’ll see that you read it. It isn’t long before he’s typing. 

‘I am still very sorry. I wish you’d talk to me. Hear me out.’ 

Hear him out? He said everything. His son is dead and he lied to you. That’s not anything you can hash out. 

‘I know you’re not working today. I’ll make a new world and we can chat there.’ 

No. That’s not going to happen. Over. O-V-E-R. It’s done. You’re not going to be like Kara. When you cut the cord, it’s snipped. 

You won’t answer. That’s just bait. He’ll keep nibbling if you do that. You press the chat settings and block. That’s better, you can’t breathe. 

You put your phone on silent and back in your pocket. You wish you had the money to try the sushi place. It won’t last long in the bodunk town so you probably won’t ever get to. Oh well. Back on campus, they sell decent California rolls at the cafeteria. Decent, not necessarily good. 

You go home. To your grandma’s house. It doesn’t always feel like home. You know she’s counting the days until you leave. You are too. 

You wish you were brave enough to apologise. To say sorry your mom and dad didn’t want you. That she got stuck with you. It feels like saying it out loud would be worse. Just wallow in the unspoken resent, one day you won’t ever come back and maybe then you can both be happy. 

In your room, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your Switch taunts you from across the room. You want to mine or race or even scare yourself with some Hellblade. You can’t. More Youtube. More wasted time. That’s what people like you do; people from small towns with no one who loves them and no money; waste time. 

The mindless videos help you relax but not forget. You just can’t get rid of the little tickle at the back of your head. There’s a tinge of shame that remains and a sliver of guilt. It will go. It has to, one day. 

You catch yourself staring at the orchid. You can smell it. You want to throw it away but that feels rude. Even if Andy would never know, even if you shouldn’t care. He hurt you, didn’t he? He lied. Well, you could give it to Mahalia next door, she loves flowers. 

You lay in indecision. You don’t want to do anything but lay there. Now that you’re still, you have no strength. Your day off is chipped away in your laziness.  

The next day awaits you with another shift at the booth. And the day after and the day after. 

Your fourth day in a row and you get a new Discord message. You know even before you open it, even by the blank avatar and nondescript username. It’s him. Just leave me alone. Let it go. Let me forget. 

‘I know you don’t want to hear from me but I need you to hear me. I can’t stop thinking of you and what happened. I can do better. Please, let me apologise.’ 

Blocked. Again.

Work. Again.  

You’re half asleep as you fill cones with soft serve. You smile and swallow yawns, faking it for the hyper children and cheerful couples. 

When it slows, you work on cleaning the freezer, switching out empty containers with ones from the deep freeze. As you check the soft serve, there’s a tap on the open walk-up window. Oh shoot. You should’ve been paying better attention. 

You turn back to greet the next customer but as you approach the window, your chest deflates. Frozen, like the tubs around you. You stare at Andy as he smiles at you. He wears a short-sleeve button up with blue, grey, and white stripes. His hair blows in the soft breeze. 

“Do you have butterscotch ripple?” He asks brightly. 

You blink and hesitate. You don’t know what to do. How did he get here? How did he find you? Why is he here? 

You reach for the window and before he can stop you, you shut it. You lock it from the inside and step back. His face falls and his brow arches as he stands straight. He says your name, his voice muffled by the glass, and puts his palm to the barrier. 

“Please,” he begs. 

You shake your head and turn your back to him. If your manager was here, you’d be in shit. That’s a no-no. Never turn away a customer, only shut the window when you lock up. 

You ignore him and go back to tidying. There could be a line up out there but you don’t care. Your hands are shaking and it’s not just the temperature.

You just can’t believe he’s there. You can’t believe he won’t just give up. You don’t want to believe it because you’re afraid. You’re terrified and he seems entirely clueless about how scary he’s being. 

Flowers are one thing but showing up at your job? That’s a flaming red flag that even you can see. Not only because you told him plainly that you don’t want to talk to him again, but because he’s a grown man. Fortysomething and he can’t take a hint. Why would a man his age want to talk to someone as young as you? That’s another red flag on its own. As if catfishing you wasn’t enough. 

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - June 20, 2023

🐕 - Meet Sheep Farm's Newest Employee: Collie Hired After Ejection from Car!

1. Border Collie ejected from car during Sunday crash found on sheep farm, herding sheep

Tilly, the 2-year-old Border Collie who was ejected from a car Sunday during a crash, has been found. He was found on a sheep farm, where he had apparently taken up the role of sheep herder. 

According to Tilly's owner, he has lost some weight since Sunday's crash and is now drinking lots of water but is otherwise healthy.

2. After 17-Year Absence, White Rhinos Return to the Democratic Republic of the Congo

The Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) recently welcomed the reintroduction of 16 southern white rhinoceroses to Garamba National Park, according to officials. The last wild northern white rhino was poached there in 2006.

The white rhinos were transported to Garamba, which lies in the northeastern part of the country, from a South African private reserve. In the late 19th century, the southern white rhino subspecies was believed to be extinct due to poaching until a population of fewer than 100 was discovered in South Africa in 1895, according to WWF.

3. UK to wipe women’s historic convictions for homosexuality

Women with convictions for some same-sex activity in the United Kingdom can apply for a pardon for the first time, the Home Office has announced.

The Home Office is widening its scheme to wipe historic convictions for homosexual activity more than a decade after the government allowed applications for same-sex activity offences to be disregarded.

It means anyone can apply for a pardon if they have been convicted or cautioned for any same-sex activity offences that have been repealed or abolished.

4. Study shows human tendency to help others is universal

A new study on the human capacity for cooperation suggests that, deep down, people of diverse cultures are more similar than you might expect. The study, published in Scientific Reports, shows that from the towns of England, Italy, Poland, and Russia to the villages of rural Ecuador, Ghana, Laos, and Aboriginal Australia, at the micro scale of our daily interaction, people everywhere tend to help others when needed.

5. In a First, Wind and Solar Generated More Power Than Coal in U.S.

Wind and solar generated more electricity than coal through May, an E&E News review of federal data shows, marking the first time renewables have outpaced the former king of American power over a five-month period.

The milestone illustrates the ongoing transformation of the U.S. power sector as the nation races to install cleaner forms of energy to reduce greenhouse gas emissions from fossil fuels.

6. Iceland becomes latest country to ban conversion therapy

Lawmakers in Iceland on June 9 approved a bill that will ban so-called conversion therapy in the country.

Media reports note 53 members of the Icelandic Parliament voted for the measure, while three MPs abstained. Hanna Katrín Friðriksson, an MP who is a member of the Liberal Reform Party, introduced the bill.

7. The temple feeding 100,000 people a day

Amritsar, the north Indian city known for its Golden Temple and delicious cuisine, is also renowned for its spirit of generosity and selfless service. The city, founded by a Sikh guru, embodies the Sikh tradition of seva, performing voluntary acts of service without expecting anything in return.

This spirit of giving extends beyond the temple walls, as the Sikh community has shown immense compassion during crises, such as delivering oxygen cylinders during the COVID-19 pandemic. At the heart of Amritsar's generosity is the Golden Temple's langar, the world's largest free communal kitchen, serving 100,000 people daily without discrimination. Despite a history marred by tragic events, Amritsar continues to radiate kindness, love, and generosity.

----

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

BUY ME A COFFEE ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog.

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Picture of Happiness

Pairing: Adam Karadec x fem!cop!reader

Summary: When your robbery investigation and Karadec's missing persons case intersect, Morgan notices that there's more between you than professional collaboration.

Warnings: fluff, soft Karadec, Melon alert, case involving abduction and drug trafficking

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

A/N: The final scene is inspired by an idea posted by @venommie but I'm also planning a fic based more heavily on it!

High Potential Masterlist | Masterlist Directory | Request Rules/Info

“Oh, no,” Daphne murmurs. She leans back, turning slightly to look into Lieutenant Soto’s office. “Our vic was robbed last weekend.”

Selena sighs, then raises her phone toward her ear. “I’ll bring in Melon.”

“Oz, what’s the latest on the car?” Karadec inquires as he returns to the bullpen with Morgan.

“Still waiting to hear back from the DMV,” Oz answers.

“Daph?”

“The victim was robbed just over a week ago,” Daphne explains. “Part of a string of B&E thefts slowly progressing from simple wallet snatching to larceny. Lieutenant is alerting Melon.”

“Fantastic,” Karadec grumbles. “Are we thinking that the B&E went south? Homeowner was there, they can’t graduate to murder yet, so they snatch him?”

“From that house?” Morgan clarifies, her brows raised. “Not a chance.”

“Even the most prepared people can get caught off guard,” Oz points out.

“He had a Glock in his nightstand, he wouldn’t have let someone get that far into his house, or that close to him, without fighting back. Was there any sign of that?”

“No, there wasn’t,” Daphne says. “CSU isn’t done cataloging the weapons, so we’re not sure if any are missing.”

“I don’t see this guy getting caught off guard,” Morgan muses. “Not by some stranger sneaking in through a loose window.”

“The neighbor who wouldn’t talk to us this morning is in interview 2,” Karadec adds. “Lawyered up, but I think he’s just covering his own-“

“I heard a cry for help,” Lieutenant Melon interrupts, smiling as he enters the bullpen.

“Yeah,” Oz deadpans. “That’s what this is.”

“Quite the robbery spree you’ve stumbled upon. Estimated $2 million in property losses, even higher insurance payouts if we don’t start recovering things soon.”

“What’s the MO?” Morgan asks, flipping through the missing persons' case file.

“Initially, broken window, a few little, moderate risk items stolen.”

Morgan looks up, surprised to hear a voice she doesn’t recognize. She looks at you, then at Melon, then Karadec, and back at you.

“Yesterday morning, reported robbery used a crowbar to pry open a sliding glass door and cleaned out the safe,” you continue. “No sign of forced entry into the safe, just the door.”

“Strange,” Daphne murmurs.

“So, what can the missus and I do for you?” Melon asks. “Solve your case?”

“Missus?” Morgan repeats. She notices how Karadec shifts, pushing his jaw out as he rubs his jaw. It’s evident that he wants to speak but stops himself.

“We’ve been undercover,” you explain. “Trying to get this guy to rob a new, naïve rich couple.”

“Translation: she’d never settle for Melon,” Selena interjects.

“Hey, I’m a catch,” Melon argues.

“More like someone would catch something from you,” Oz adds.

You smile, and when you lock eyes with Karadec, you both shake your heads.

“Yesterday’s robbery wasn’t the same thief,” Morgan interrupts. “The approach pattern was completely different.”

“Approach pattern,” Melon repeats softly.

You look over Karadec’s shoulder to their case board. Tapping the simple black band on your left ring finger, you mentally review the facts of the case. Adding a missing person to a robbery case means the criminal is progressing. If more than one criminal is working here, your job becomes harder.

“Bottom to top,” Morgan says. “Your average thief works from the bottom up. Makes it easier to rifle through drawers because you don’t have to close one to get to the next. That’s where we get the whole ripped apart scene cliché. Yesterday’s case – and our missing person – produced scenes that were relatively neat. Because… any guesses?”

“The perp worked top down,” you and Karadec answer together.

“Right!” Morgan snaps, turning toward the case board. “So, if we remove these two cases… That gives us one planner, someone unafraid to go straight from- what’d he take?”

“From which scene?” Melon inquires.

“Yesterday.”

“Uh…” Melon opens the case file and skims it quickly before he answers, “A pair of diamond earrings, a Degas copy, and a thumb drive. Total estimated value: $14,000.”

“The earrings are most of that,” you add. “Apparently the thumb drive was empty, because the report didn’t value it in any way.”

“No intellectual property,” Daphne agrees. “Then why steal it? Not like they’re expensive or hard to come by.”

“There is something on it,” you realize. “Something he didn’t want the police to know about.”

“Maybe something worth kidnapping someone for,” Karadec adds.

“Whoa,” Melon interjects, raising his hands. “That’s a bit of a jump. It’s a thumb drive owned by someone who is not your victim.”

“Interior,” you say.

Morgan nods excitedly while Melon turns toward you with a sigh.

“The Degas copy was ‘Interior,’ which depicts a meeting between a man and a woman. It’s tense, dangerous, also called ‘The Rape.’”

“Make the connection, dear wife,” Melon pleads.

Karadec tips his head to the side, holding Morgan’s attention with his reactions to how Melon speaks to you.

“Follow me,” you invite.

Karadec moves first, falling into line behind you. You walk into Melon’s office without asking permission, and he scoffs when Morgan and Karadec join you.

“Get over it, Walter,” you encourage, uncapping a marker to alter his board.

“Is this even in English?” Morgan inquires, squinting to read a sticky note.

“Ha, ha,” Melon mutters. “What are we doing here?”

“This,” you answer, circling an address on the board. “The robbery from yesterday. Compare this address to the one of your missing person.”

Karadec’s eyes bounce around the board as he thinks. “454,” he realizes. “They’re a number apart, and the street names are just a few letters off.”

“As if someone had part of an address and was looking for something specific,” Daphne adds.

“And covering their tracks by taking something worth missing,” Oz says.

“He was looking for the thumb drive,” you deduce.

“Why?” Morgan asks. “None of our suspects – none of yours, either – have a clear connection to the victim.”

“Where was the Degas purchased?” Selena asks.

“Art dealer in downtown LA,” Daphne answers.

“Maybe someone should go look for another,” she suggests.

“Like a well-to-do married couple?” you ask, smiling.

“Precisely what I was thinking.”

“Well done,” Karadec says.

“Thank you,” you reply. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I need to feign an interest in impressionist art with my husband.”

Morgan’s eyes widen as she watches Karadec. He doesn’t react as before; instead, he lets you take his hand and lead you out of the office. There’s no sense that he doesn’t want you to touch him, no second-guessing of your intentions, or startled expression. He’s used to that, she realizes.

“So, what’s the deal with Karadec?” Morgan asks, back in the Major Crimes bullpen.

“What do you mean?” Daphne replies.

“He was ready to knock Melon’s teeth out. Followed a certain officer out of here like a lovestruck puppy.”

“Notice that, did you?” Oz interjects.

“What am I missing here?”

“I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” Daphne teases.

“Karadec just texted,” Selena calls. “They found something.”

“Need backup?” Oz asks.

Selena chuckles rather than answering, and Morgan slaps her legs.

“Seriously, what am I missing? Are they some kind of dream team or something?”

“What did you see?” Selena asks.

“Karadec longing for her, but- wait. Seriously?”

“Can neither confirm nor deny,” Oz answers. “But the first part wasn’t that hard to notice.”

“What do you see?” Karadec asks softly.

“Some of these frames are hollowed out,” you whisper. “There’s more than paintings in here, but before we start talking, we need to know what it is they’re moving.”

“Drugs or money.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“Cover me,” you request.

Karadec nods, straightens his shoulders, and buttons his blazer as he walks toward the man at the desk. You walk toward the back of the store, pretending to look at the paintings as you locate the cameras overhead. Directly beneath one of the lenses, you bend your knees to lower, then run your fingers along a delicately beaded frame. Slipping your fingers over the corner, you examine the narrow slotting in the wood. When you run into a small plastic pouch, you pull your hand back and look at your fingers. The white powder on them could be wood or printing materials, but it’s not likely.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” you apologize as you return to Karadec’s side. “There’s just so much to see… to do.”

“Your husband was telling me that you’re a fan of Degas,” the man whose nametag reads Antonio states with a smile. “We’ve got no shortage of quality prints.”

“I saw my favorite at the back,” you reply. “They’re beautiful, very well done. We were actually referred here. One of our friends who shares our appreciation for arts, and its many influences, mentioned that his friend Leonard loved your service and the purchases he’s made.”

“Leonard is one of our best customers,” Antonio responds. “Any friend of Leonard’s is a friend of ours. Perhaps I could walk you through a bit of the influences we’re passionate about here.”

“We’d love that,” Karadec agrees, smiling at you as he traces his finger down your finger beneath your wedding ring.

“Two cases closed in one afternoon,” you muse as you fall into your seat. “Drug running secrets stolen, people abducted to procure more product, the American dream. You’re welcome.”

“We helped solve your case too,” Daphne points out.

You crack one eye open before you argue, “I had to pretend to be Mrs. Walter Melon for no reason.”

“You deserve a medal,” Oz says, shuddering for emphasis.

“You also pretended to be married to Karadec, no?” Morgan asks.

You turn toward her, then look at Oz and Daphne. “She doesn’t know?”

“We’re not legally or morally permitted to tell anyone,” Daphne replies.

“Under threat of bodily harm,” Oz adds.

“Promise of bodily harm,” Karadec corrects. “And, no, Morgan, we weren’t pretending for that part.”

Morgan’s jaw drops, and she turns quickly to look between you and Karadec. She’s observant and brilliant, so you fully anticipated that she would have figured out your relationship status already.

“Breathe a word of it to anyone,” Karadec warns.

“Yeah, yeah, bodily harm, I caught that.” She leans toward you and whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“No.”

“Wasn’t talking to you Karadec.”

He hums, repeats, “No,” and tosses you his keys.

You wave over your shoulder, and Morgan’s excited chattering seems to follow you through the station.

Karadec watches you, spinning his ring on his finger. You feel his eyes on you but don’t say anything as you prepare dinner. When the food is in the oven, you wash and dry your hands, then walk toward Karadec. He looks up at you from his seat, and you smile.

“You’re brooding,” you point out.

“I don’t brood,” he argues.

You hum and move between his knees and the coffee table. Karadec leans back, spreading his knees apart so you can stand comfortably between his legs.

“Want to talk about it?” you ask.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting to all day.”

“Save the sarcasm, Adam.”

He lifts his brows, barely containing his smile as he lifts his hands to your thighs.

“Are you jealous?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I know he does it just to get under my skin.”

“Then don’t let him,” you encourage, rubbing your hands down your husband’s forearms.

“Not that easy,” he argues.

“Yes, it is. He’s Melon, and I come home with you. Whatever he says or does, just ignore him.”

Karadec nods, and you scratch your fingernails gently over his wrists.

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you.”

“I also threatened to punch Melon today.”

“Should’ve carried through,” Karadec muses. “Sorry for letting him in my head. It’s been a weird few days.”

“I get it. No hard feelings. As long as you’re not grumps.”

“Did you just say ‘grumps'?”

You smile, and Karadec shakes his head as he tugs your hips forward. Before you can catch yourself, he pulls your knee to his side so you drop into his lap.

“Ah,” you murmur. “You don’t like that Melon acts all soft and loving when we’re undercover and you think you have to do it in private.”

“I thought you were a good detective.”

You inhale, playing up your offense at his taunting. Before you can reply, Karadec slips his hand beneath your shirt and rests it against your waist. Lifting your hand, you cup his jaw and lean toward your husband.

“Have anything else you need to talk about?” you inquire softly. “A case? Personal stuff?”

“No,” Karadec answers. “Not right now.”

“Right. No talking.”

Karadec nods, pulling you closer. “That sounds like a good idea.”

You smile, then kiss your husband. He holds your waist in one hand and cups the back of your head in the other while you hold his face, brushing your thumb over his beard and up to his cheekbone. Moments like these are your favorite, and make you remember why you love Karadec so much.

Although your relationship may not be common knowledge, you’re happy, content, and secure. The quiet nights after the long, hectic days make it all worth it. No one notices or questions why you carry around hand sanitizer and keep an eye on Karadec during joint operations. You appreciate the privacy, but they’re missing out on a picture of happiness, love, and pure joy.

[fearful-quartet]

So I've been listening to The Magnus Protocol, and managed to get my dad into TMA last year so he's now listening to Mag Protocol too. So last night we were listening in the car to the latest statement, and I was half-jokingly saying which fear the statement sounded like mostly, to which my dad starts talking about how he doesn't think these statements and the O.A.I.R are connected to the Fears at all. I'm gonna try to put a cut for anyone not caught up but here's how this led to a theory of mine:

So Lena said to Gwen that there's good and bad forces that need to be balanced, but she never said which side of that the O.A.I.R. is part of, if any. I was noting this when it hit me.

Every single Magnus Protocol Statement so far has been about misfortune coming around due to perceived fortune or a fortunate opportunity becoming misfortune.

Let's break this down ep by ep so you see what I mean.

Episode One: It's a little hard to figure out what the fortune is to the misfortune, especially since it's mostly getting us used to the characters and the overall setup of the show, but for the first statement I think it's not the statement giver, but the husband. Harriet (the one emailing) says he sounded excited in an unsettling way (I am assuming the "he" she is talking about is her husband since she doesn't mention anyone else). When she meets him, or what has him, she describes that he laughed and laughed. Her misfortune was his fortune, his joy.

The second statement in that episode of course is about the Institute, but by way of a bunch of spelunkers looking for something intriguing to discuss. I haven't quite figured out the connection here but I am sure there is one, even if it's through the characters (aka Sam) finding something within it.

Two: A lot easier to connect to this. Daria is finding joy through getting this tattoo that allows her to change how she looks and alter her appearance immensely (and grotesquely). Enough said.

Three: This statement is one that overall I just don't understand tbh, but I think it shows the opposite? As in the victim is experiencing fear and discomfort the entire time, but towards the end you'll notice he gets much more happy and calm about the situation.

Four: This is again easy, it's about a violin that needs blood but will give you amazing talent if you pay that price, and horrible bloodshed if you don't. Self-explanatory.

Five: The guy is trying to make a living off watching and reviewing horror movies, gets excited at a live showing of one just for him, then realizes it's not what it seems and posts everyone should see it. Easy enough. (Very Grifter's Bone in energy)

Six: The introduction to infamous new tumblr sexyman, Needles. I shouldn't have to spell out how he gets pleasure from others in pain by needles.

Seven: All I gotta say is it's "all for a good cause" and you should get the picture.

Eight: Utilizes that uncanny fear of false hospitality if you ask me, but either way this statement is clearly taking something associated often as comforting and twisting it.

Nine: The dice literally affect fortune and misfortune and likely make the statement giver into the embodiment of fortune. 'Nuff said.

Ten: Bonzo needs no explanation for this in his introductory episode so let's move on.

Eleven: This one goes more into obsession territory than anything, which is another running theme of the show and another theory, but it also talks about how the sea brings comfort so that could be part of it. (Also I noticed the sneaky possibly Dr. David reference in there lol)

Twelve: Now I know what you're gonna say, "How is this one connected to fortune at all, Cal? It's about some woman being traumatized at a strip club!" Well think about this: what if it wasn't supposed to end in Bonzo? Gwen gave Bonzo an "assignment," didn't she? And Lena pretty much outright says that this statement was that assignment. So it's possible this is what happened after stopping the initial outcome.

Thirteen: The latest episode as of typing this, and the most clear with evidence. The man literally gains a fortune from his own misfortune, so ya know it's right there.

So every statement is a good thing turned bad or a bad thing turned good. So what? Magnus Archives had plenty of statements similarly framed, so why am I focusing on it here?

Because what is the tagline for Magnus Protocol again?

Fear takes many forms.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Last night they were acting Moliere in Fourteenth Street; Dickens was being played through the auspices of Nigel Playfair. Further uptown, George M. Cohan was unveiling the latest George M. Cohan musical comedy. But Broadway, being eternally curious, turned out in greatest numbers at the Biltmore Theater in Forty-Seventh Street, where the result of Mae West's latest encounter with the drama was being performed. This was the exhibit—play is not precisely the word—with a vaudeville background, whose preliminary trip through the Bronx and Queens had been followed by rumors that here was something that might arouse the police to action.

So began the review by an unnamed theater critic for the Times on October 2, 1928. It appeared, not in the arts section, but following a front-page story about the police ... taking action.

The play was Pleasure Man, a reworking by Mae West of her earlier play The Drag. It dealt not with vaudeville, as the critic said, but burlesque, and finished with a lavish drag ball.

Cops were stationed at all theater exits and just as the play was ending, reserves surrounded the front. When the cast tried to leave, they were arrested—56 in all, including West, who also acted in the show.

Of course this attracted audience members (some in evening dress, the Times noted) from other theaters nearby. The presence of cabs and other cars waiting to pick up theater-goers and actors added to the chaos.

Flashlights exploded as news photographers tried to capture the actors being led into paddy wagons. The police had to make five trips to get everyone to the station house on 47th St., where they were charged with indecency.

By 2:30 in the morning, Actors Equity posted bail. West's was $500, which may have been more than the others because she was doubly guilty, having written the play as well as acted in it. The producer, director, and theater staff were not arrested.

For some reason, the cops let the next day's matinee start, but raided it halfway through and arrested everyone once more. They had their own theatrical flair.

The trial wasn't held until April of 1930, and resulted in a hung jury. By that time West was a star, having triumphed in another play of her own called Diamond Lil. The next year she went to Hollywood.

Top photo: J.D. Doyle via Digital Transgender Archive Second photo: NY Daily News

[midnitetech]

You guys, the incomparable @oshinsimblr made a video reviewing some of my latest mods. I love her so much!

[bestgaddi]

Best Site for Finding Best Cars in India 2024

Best Site for Finding Best Cars in India 2024: Finding the perfect car can feel like searching for a needle in a haystack. With so many options and considerations, where do you even start? That’s where the internet becomes your best friend. Today, we’ll dive deep into the best site for finding the best cars, including Bestgaddi. We’ll cover tips, tricks, and everything in between to help you drive off into the sunset in your dream car. Buckle up, because this ride will be informative and fun!

[mariacallous]

Given the daily degradation of our democracy—not merely its practice but its symbols and forms, which matter, too—it seems merely worth a baleful look that more of the so-called Kennedy files, which the National Archives released last week, on Donald Trump’s order, turn out, so far, to contain what is technically called bupkes: nothing of consequence or revelation. Whispers about such obvious hoaxes as an alleged letter written by John F. Kennedy, Jr., calling Joe Biden a traitor—a document long ago revealed and debunked by the F.B.I.—created some excitement on social media, including on Elon Musk’s X, but the files mostly inspire the same old rumors of the same old kind—the C.I.A., Israel’s intelligence agency, George H. W. Bush, the same horses revolving on the same carrousel, with the paint peeling from them by now. Trump’s motive in releasing the files seems to have been to appease the Alex Jones wing of his base—and likely also his Health and Human Services Secretary, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.—which clings to conspiracy theories as rational conservatives once clung to the Constitution. But most of the records had long been available; the big difference here is that some of the (mostly self-evident) names and sources are revealed. (And, with the usual Trump chaos, the names and even the Social Security numbers of various bystanders to the story have now been inadvertently released, creating the possibility of brand-new lawsuits.)

The reality, as confirmed by the Warren Commission, in 1964, remains as it has been ever since that November afternoon: that Lee Harvey Oswald, an unhappy man in his early twenties, whose absurd sense of self-aggrandizement oscillated with an unappeasable sense of grievance—the very type of a political assassin—acted alone. His motives for killing Kennedy remain uncertain—though he may perhaps have simply intended to impress Fidel Castro. (Assassins’ motives are often confused: Mark Chapman killed John Lennon out of a toxic compound involving an Esquire article about Lennon’s wealth and an obsession with “The Catcher in the Rye.”)

Oswald was a violent man in a violent mood. Only months before in Dallas, the Warren Commission found, he had tried to kill the far-right former Army Major General Edwin Walker, and less than an hour after Kennedy’s assassination he killed a police officer. Each accumulated piece of evidence—firearms evidence, ballistic evidence, eyewitness evidence—creates a mountain of essential certainty as to Oswald’s means and opportunity. The failures of the day to protect Kennedy are, in retrospect, shocking, but, although the Secret Service can adjust to the known, it can’t foresee every possible unknown. At that time, Presidents rode in open cars; now, they don’t. (They also regularly walked, waving and smiling, from public events to the Presidential limousine until 1981, when Ronald Reagan, doing just that, was shot and very nearly killed.)

The other side of the historical inquiry is also long known. As the Times reported, when Tim Naftali, an adjunct professor at the School of International and Public Affairs at Columbia University, researched the files, “his review of the documents convinced him that some previously redacted information had not been classified to protect details that cast doubt on what happened to Kennedy but for a much simpler and more sensitive reason: to protect the C.I.A.’s sources and methods.” What was suppressed at the time but is suggested by these documents, is that the C.I.A. engaged in morally dubious and illegal operations—including, as has been known at least since the findings of the Church Committee, in the mid-nineteen seventies, assassinations and attempted assassinations during the Kennedy era (of Castro, above all)—and that the agency was understandably nervous, not to say panicked, that one or another of its sinister practices could have “blown back” or, at a minimum, might have been disclosed in the course of an investigation. (Perhaps only the maverick journalist I. F. Stone said unequivocally at the time that our services had been conspiring to kill other leaders even as our own was killed. But Stone did not think that anyone conspired to kill J.F.K., a man whom, against his better judgment, he admired.)

The sheer felt devastation of what happened is still staggering and speaks, as well, to the continuing shadow cast by Kennedy’s long reputation. For the past sixty years, people have been undermining that reputation, and yet somehow it stands—so much so that R.F.K., Jr., despite having been denounced by his family (most pointedly by his cousin Caroline, J.F.K.’s daughter), persists in public life largely because of the continuing hold of the family name. The efforts to cut short that shadow have been many and multifarious. Kennedy, though married to the idolized Jackie, was a man with many alleged lovers, even as President (including, recklessly, one with connections to the Mob), a fact obviously kept from the public at the time. (As “Mad Men” rather usefully reminded us, though—and as John Updike’s stories of the nineteen-sixties in this magazine might have reminded us, too—casual infidelity was a fact of the time.) He accepted the ground rules of the Cold War mostly unreflectively, which helped lead to the disaster of the Bay of Pigs. And he was slow, not to say cautious, in addressing civil rights, the great issue of his Presidency.

But there are good reasons that his memory remains. J.F.K. was a handsome man—handsome in appearance, but also handsome in attitudes and speech and personal manner. Richard Reeves, preparing a book about Kennedy in the late eighties and early nineties, said that “half the people I interviewed began with this sentence about John F. Kennedy: ‘He was the most charming man I ever met.’ ” It was a charm that was irresistible to others because it rested on a foundation of courage. It’s significant that, for all the revisionism, no one has ever challenged the story, first reported in the pages of The New Yorker, of his almost ridiculously courageous conduct in the Second World War, when, as a young Navy lieutenant in the Pacific, his patrol boat was hit by a Japanese destroyer and he towed a wounded comrade through the waves holding the strap of his life jacket in his mouth. The charm with which he handled later political confrontations is still rightly legend—in 1946, in a room full of Boston working-class pols, after each was pointedly introduced as a young man who “came up the hard way,” he disarmingly announced, “I see I’m the only one here tonight who didn’t come up the hard way.” He later addressed the Texas delegation at the 1960 Democratic National Convention all on his own, very much a Daniel in the lion’s den, and won over many of the lions. These are all details of tone and temperament, and the relative absence of obvious and substantial policy achievements is part of the indictment against J.F.K. But the tone of a society is central to its self-conception. Personal manners are the surface of public morality.

Conspiracy theorists (and those of us who argue with them have the scars to show for it) often maintain that the ones debunking the conspiracies are allied with the conspirators. But, as generations of Marxist scholars have written, the essence of intelligent social criticism is to recognize that things would have happened more or less the way they did because of the inherent economic and ideological forces in a country. So, the Vietnam War, far from being a monstrosity thrust upon the government, in Kennedy’s absence, by Lyndon Johnson, as Oliver Stone’s movie “JFK” suggests, was a natural, misbegotten outcome of long-standing beliefs about the Cold War and confrontations with Communism. It was encouraged and executed under Johnson by many of the same people, almost all of Kennedy allegiance—the famous “best and the brightest”—whom Kennedy recruited into government.

Individual character matters crucially in history—it’s conceivable that Kennedy would have recognized the trap of a ground war in Asia sooner than L.B.J. could, being less pathologically insecure, but it’s also quite possible that he would have made the same fatal errors in Vietnam, and for the same reasons. Had Vietnam been lost in 1965 instead of in 1975, right-wing Republicans, already led by Ronald Reagan, among others, would not have said, “Oh, thank God we didn’t waste tens of thousands of lives staying there and fighting an obviously doomed contest.” They would have cried cowardice and appeasement, and many, perhaps most, Americans would have listened. Would J.F.K. have resisted that circumstance better than L.B.J. did? Conceivably. But it was the same circumstance.

And so we come back to that long shadow. Countless American institutions were named in Kennedy’s honor right after the assassination: the airport once known as Idlewild became, and remains, our own J.F.K., and, in a still astonishing episode, Cape Canaveral, in Florida, was briefly renamed Cape Kennedy. (The original—and four-hundred-year-old—name was restored after a decade.) Yet no memorial seemed better suited to the Kennedy style than the dedication of a national arts center in Washington, D.C., which attempted to cure F. Scott Fitzgerald’s old complaint that the division of America between two capitals—one cultural and intellectual, in New York, and the other political, in Washington—had harmed the country profoundly.

The successor often gets the credit for what the rival started. Dwight D. Eisenhower first pushed the idea of an arts center in Washington, to put the city on even footing with other world capitals as an “artistic mecca that would be open to visitors from every land.” In the decades since its establishment, the center’s board has been distinguished and bipartisan—until last month, when, in a grotesque show of ego, Trump fired all the Biden-appointed members, and made himself its chairman. What Trump imagines filling the space is unclear. He has a weakness for bad Broadway musicals, and contempt for great ones—preferring “Cats” to “Hamilton” is in itself, as a close reading of the Federalist Papers should make clear, grounds for impeachment. (Although Trump’s affection for the musicals of Andrew Lloyd Webber is one thing that makes him seem very nearly human.) Trump’s case is that the Center previously discriminated against conservative culture in favor of the “woke” kind, and, though there is no evidence that this was ever the case, it is certainly true that no partisan monopoly on the performing arts should ever be encouraged. On the national stage, on any stage, there should be room for a first-rate right-wing playwright like David Mamet alongside a first-rate left-wing one like Tony Kushner. Pluralism is the first principle of a democratic culture. But what Trump wants is only shows that he likes. That is not reform.

Aesthetic dimensions—handsome and ugly, or charming and hateful—are not always the vectors or axes on which we judge politics. But there is much to be said for Eisenhower’s desire to see the symbols of our public life elevated and admirable, and for the people at the top at least to enact, if no one can entirely embody, the role that Aristotle called that of the magnanimous man—large of spirit, generous to enemies, and modest about one’s own accomplishments, because sure of them. “The mere accumulation of wealth and power,” Kennedy said, at a 1962 fund-raiser for what would become the Kennedy Center, “is available to the dictator and the democrat alike. What freedom alone can bring is the liberation of the human mind and spirit, which finds its greatest flowering in the free society.” That it is impossible to imagine these words rising from the man who now follows him—and who seems to believe that, since the accumulation of power and wealth is so easily available to the dictator, only a sap would choose to be a democrat—is a sign of how uniquely ugly our time is becoming. 

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

Republicans in Congress cannot use an obscure legislative maneuver to stop California’s ban on the sale of new gasoline-powered cars by 2035, the Senate parliamentarian ruled on Friday.

The decision dealt a blow to efforts by the Trump administration to quickly kill policies that promote electric vehicles.

California had received a federal waiver under the 1970 Clean Air Act from the Biden administration to impose a stricter automobile emissions standard than the one set by the federal government. Under that waiver, it enacted a plan to require all new cars sold in the state by 2035 be free of emissions of greenhouse gases like carbon dioxide, the primary contributor to climate change.

It’s one of the most ambitious climate policies in the United States, designed to shift the auto industry toward electric cars. That has made it a top target for elimination by the Trump administration.

According to three Senate Democrats, however, the parliamentarian on Friday said the waiver granted to California was not subject to the Congressional Review Act, which permits lawmakers to reverse recently-adopted regulations with a simple majority vote.

California’s two Democratic senators, Alex Padilla and Adam Schiff, and Senator Sheldon Whitehouse of Rhode Island, the top Democrat on the Senate Environment and Public Works Committee, announced the decision but declined to release the text of the ruling.

All three described it as a victory for climate policies.

“In passing the Clean Air Act on an overwhelmingly bipartisan basis, Congress explicitly granted California the ability to set more stringent vehicle emissions standards to protect public health from California’s unique air quality challenges,” Mr. Padilla said.

“This latest stunt from Trump’s E.P.A. was a clearly bogus attempt to undercut California’s climate leadership, and it failed,” he said.

The Trump administration submitted the automobile waiver to Congress along with two other California waivers approved by the Environmental Protection Agency last year. One requires that half of all new heavy-duty vehicles sold in the state be electric by 2035 and the other places limits on nitrogen dioxide and particulate matter emissions from cars and trucks.

The parliamentarian, Elizabeth MacDonough, is a civil servant who acts as the arbiter and enforcer of the Senate’s rules. She decided that the rules would not allow Republicans to fast-track the repeal of the waiver.

Mr. Schiff noted that the parliamentarian is “nonpartisan and independent,” and added that California “has been the gold standard for fighting harmful air pollution, and today’s ruling allows that fight to continue.”

[neoclassic-sonic]

Personal Vehicles in (Neo) Classic Sonic Part 1: Fang

First off... The Marvelous Queen!

Fang's vehicle of choice which made its debut in Triple Trouble and reappearance in Sonic Drift! It's got a redesign for Sonic Superstars that was expanded upon in the Fang the unter miniseries (with the side carts made for Bean and Bark)

Although Mauro Fonseca, Lineartist for Fang the Hunter Issue #1 and artist for the Retail Incentive cover for all 4 issues, admits that he thought he had to use the latest design.

Because of this let's say that they're both the same in terms of functionality.

The sidecarts are easily detachable and launchable.

Features its spring from Triple Trouble (I assume he has a Drill as well)

And an Emerald Detector added by Aaron Hammerstrom in Seasons of Chaos...

... that eventually made its way to the Superstars redesign! Speaking of, in addition to all the new features it got for the game...

It seems like it's self charging, probably solar since she hasn't fully charged due to the night and rain.

It's also seen being responsive to whistles.

Which is.... quite similar to another vehicle they've shown off before... Hocke-wulfe's Bike.

It's interesting that, not only does it share visual similarities with Fang's Marvelous Queen, but his bike is noted to be different from Bearanger's and Carrotia's vehicles... I'm not sure if this was intentional from Ian Flynn's part on writing them to be whistle-commandable or Aaron Hammerstrom's part who (I assume?) updated the vehicle designs

Could Fang and Hocke-wulf share the same car mechanic? (LOL)

Anyway, I'll go review the Witchcarter's vehicles another day, back to the Marvelous Queen. While whistling does control the vehicle, it seems she /can/ get commands from far away but her speed is limited when not being controlled as the gang have to meet her half way.

By the end of the series, the vehicle is seen upgraded with the Warp Topaz

Which can teleport it and its riders anywhere the rider wants.

Although it loses its side-carts, taken by Bean and Bark as they ditch Fang. (Interestingly it seems like they're controllable?)

That's it for the Marvelous Queen! Arguably the most popular vehicle from the Classic Era second to the Tornado. A sexy beast of vehicle with a name that matches Fang's pang for riches.

Sonic | Tails | Amy | Knuckles | Fang | Witchcarters

[darkmaga-returns]

One of America’s leading epidemiologists has raised the alarm after reviewing the latest insurance industry data and uncovering evidence of an “excess mortality crisis” among people who received Covid mRNA “vaccines.”

The warning was issued by McCullough Foundation epidemiologist Nicolas Hulscher, MPH.

According to Hulscher, excess deaths among “vaccinated” people “still persist,” even though many people haven’t received mRNA injections since the pandemic.

Excess mortality rates are the number of deaths above the levels expected in normal conditions.

All-cause excess deaths only rise in exceptional circumstances, such as a war or pandemic.

However, excess all-cause mortality didn’t rise during the first year of the Covid pandemic and only started surging in 2021 after the mRNA “vaccines” were rolled out for public use.

While “Covid deaths” may have spiked in official data, these figures are based on causes listed by hospitals, meaning a person killed in a car crash could have tested positive for the virus when they died.

Hulscher’s warning is based on insurance industry data.

This source of information has proved vital as the insurance industry is based on risk assessment, meaning it requires accurate, unfiltered data for survival.

[gillyweedgrl]

You should be watching Pit Babe! - A Brief Review

Saddens me to think how many people are missing out on a great show because they think it’s not worth more than a trash watch, if that.

I mean, realistically, is it the most amazing cinematic work of all time? No, not unless pretty-boy power bottoms with daddy issues are your thing, which in my case they are, so let's talk about Pit Babe!

Note: I've tried to keep the spoilers to a minimum, they're mainly in the tags and links so follow them at your own risk, you've been warned.

Honestly, Pit Babe is a pretty damn good show, especially if you A) pretend the Omegaverse factor doesn’t exist and take the show for what it is and B) you don't mind not knowing what's going on half the time, just sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.

Overall, Pit Babe has got a good production value, a slightly absurd yet entertaining plot, a great choice of cast with amazing chemistry and pretty decent acting skills amongst the mix of seasoned actors and newbies.

For a totally biased fair and balanced review: There are some details that are left vague instead of being explained in depth or at all (yet), but that’s to be expected when you adapt a novel into a movie or series. It would get boring for the audience if the pace was interrupted to explain all those little details that we’re likely to find out along the way anyways (shout out to those who've watched the latest episode; finally!).

There are also some scenes that feel like they’re not as necessary and some background/plot devices that made a little more sense in the novel but I personally don’t feel like they detract too much from my viewing experience.

Babe (played by Pavel) and Charlie (played by Pooh) as the main leads do a really good job at shouldering a large percentage of screen time. Charlie comes across as happy-go-lucky, a bit clumsy/goofy, entirely fearless and a little naive, which is mostly true, but there's clearly more to him than that. Right from the start Babe is clearly someone guarded, detirmined and skilled at what he does (racing cars and having sex) and he has a very tight cirlce of people he trusts. There's a winning combo right there, quite tsundere/sunshine from the outside but definitely more breath the surface that gets exploded as they go.

Way (played by Nut) is Babe's best friend and racing companion, they've been racing together at Team X-Hunter for years but there's clearly more than friendship on the mind for Way, though the feelings appear to be one sided.

Alan (played by Sailub) is the owner of Team X-Hunter and an all-round cool Uncle (which the whole team call's him (despite barely being in his mid 30's). He's kind but firm, he cares for his team like they’re his family and it does seem as though they’re his only family.

And the rest of the cast consists primarily of:

Team X-Hunter:

Dean (played by Lee); a junior racer with slight douche vibes

North and Sonic (played by Michael and TopTen); everyone’s babies, they’re junior racers and content creators

Jeff (played by Pon); the newest member of the team, he’s a part time mechanic and full time conspicuous

Pete (played by Ping); the money guy Alan brings on board to sponsor the team

Team Red Racing (the rival team):

Winner (played by Pop); the guy who never seems to win against Babe

Kim (played by Benz); the new racer they hired to beat Babe

Tony (played by S Vorarit); Red Racing's newest benefactor and *shock horror* Babe's former foster father (try saying that ten times fast)

Kenta (played by Garfield); Tony's right hand man

Then, there’s the 🌶🔥🤯

I, personally, enjoy a little spice/heat in my shows. It’s not necessary for every show, of course, but I do think that when it serves a purpose to the story and it’s done well then it can be quite enjoyable and this cast/production team is doing it really well.

As I said, the chemistry between the cast really is amazing (both on and off the screen, if you're interested in that kind of thing) and although the spicy scenes aren’t nearly as abundant as they are in the novel, there are some really good ones. I decided to bite the bullet and binge read the novel over the past couple of weeks, I blame @pharawee’s breakdown posts for those sleepless nights, and it was worth it for me but not necessary for watching the series.

Lastly (as if this post isn't long winded enough as it is) there are a handful of things in this series that we don't see too often in BL's and make it worth watching even more:

It's got race cars, murder attempts, mafia influence and supernatural powers (at least half the characters have one).

There's no evil ex-lover out to get revenge or get back together with one of the mains (thank the BL gods).

It's got a Soft Top/Dominant Bottom dynamic where the title character is both super masc and a pretty princess.

And we can't forget, it is technically an Omegaverse series (or rather, it's Omegaverse-lite) which none of us saw coming!

Anywho, to conclude; yes, you should be watching Pit Babe. No, you don't have to read the novel to understand what's going on because none of us understand what the hell is going on at any given time. Charlie and Babe are fucking around and finding out, the rest of us are just long for the ride, Alan and Jeff are having a whole ass rom-com-drama in the corner, the babies are making their content and having a blast and the others aren't quite on the map yet (or are they? *wink, wink*), but I sure hope they will be soon!

If you made it this far, thank you and are you okay? Do you need to have your brain checked?