#and who knows when it will get copyright struck!

[foreignswaggersession]

should i spend this weekend:

rewatching iwtv s2 (and start posting my s2 takes)

rewatching feast of all saints (and start posting my foas/iwtv comparison takes)

[soo0hee]

Fun Time

Pairing — Chwe Hansol x afab!Reader

Summary — Visiting your brother you met one of his member. To bad that you liked to have a little fun... Requested by @cyd0129 , i hope you like it!

Genre — fluff

Warnings — none

Word Count — 1.1k

Rating — sfw

A/N — @tusswrites & @svtiddiess thanks for brainstorming this with me <3

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Visiting your brother at his job was always fun. Watching him turn simple melodies and beats into full fledged songs that would maybe, possibly, end up on an album of their group always gave you a sense of calmness that you rarely ever got to feel.

And while the Universe Factory was almost like a meeting point of Seventeen members, you had never gotten to meet every single one of them. It was funny almost but Woozi had always been a little mysterious when it came to his family, so neither you, nor the members who knew about you were surprised about their producer keeping this detail to himself.

And Woozi wanted to protect himself from the chaos that was doomed to happen if you and certain members of his were to ever meet eachother.

To protect his piece of mind, is what he told you once over dinner at your apartment. You had cackled at his serious expression but accepted his reasoning knowing that you indeed could be a little menace if you wanted to.

With your from your brother requester personal lanyard dangling from your neck and bubble tea in your hand you walked through the lobby of the Hybe Building. It surprised you how well recognition system worked as you remembered last times visit where you had needed almost 20 minutes and a staff members help to actually get inside.

Walking up to the elevator with your earbuds blasting music straight into your brain, you took out your phone to text your brother of your incoming arrival when you noticed the text he had send you a bit ago.

Universe Factory is empty. Am in Studio 7. Meet me there? – received 2:31 pm

For a moment your brain blanked just as the Elevator arrived with a Ding.

The Universe Factory you knew where to find, Studio 717 however you had no idea. It was a practice room, that much you knew, but when it came to the location, you were absolutely lost.

Maybe you should ask someone? One of the staffs? No, they had already stared like you had frown to heads when you walked in with your own Lanyard! There was no need for you to receive those stares a second time.

So you pressed the Button with the number 7, hoping that the first number of the studio was the indicator of the Level you had to go to.

The doors closed and you went up just to stop at the second floor.

A familiar face appeared behind the door. A face that you had seen a million times already on press pictures, photo shootings or the group selcas Woozi loved to send you every then and now.

A few that had yet to meet you however.

Vernon was one of those members that you were being hidden from, until now.

The hip hop team maknae only nodded in acknowledgement, eyes fixed on the lanyard to verify that you had the right to be there.

He pushed the button to the 9th floor.

“You going to the finance department?” Vernon asked smoothly in korean.

An idea struck you that couldn’t passed up.

Fanning confusion you stared back at him and answered in perfect English with, “I’m sorry, what?”

It took Vernon a second to make the switch in language before asking again if you were going to the finance department. This time in english.

“Uhm, no. I was actually searching for the Studios… I have an appointment there.” You said without feeling bad for lying, internally groaning that your hopes of your destination being on the 7th floor had been crushed just like that.

“The Studios are on the 8th floor.” Vernon answered, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

That one you knew. But-

“And the practice rooms? I need to be in 717 to meet someone.”

Now that made the Rapper curious. 717 was their Practice room! What was a stranger like doing in their practice room?!

Admittedly, a very beautiful stranger, but a stranger none the less.

“Uhmm, I could take you? It’s where I’m headed right now! But only if you tell me what kind of business you have there.” He offered. You could clearly hear the teasing tilt in his voice.

You played along.

“I’m a new choreographer. They called me to take a look at a choreography for what I’m guessing is your group if you are headed there. Preparation for a new comeback?”

The elevators door opened on the 7th floor.

Vernon swallowed. A new choreographer meant changes to the already existing choreo and he prayed that wasn’t the case.

The elevator closed.

He hummed quietly, agreeing with the last part.

“Yeah, I’m from Seventeen. Vernon.”

“Nice to meet you Vernon. I’m y/n. Pleased to meet you.” You grinned and bit your lip to prevent laughing out loud at the dumbfound face he made.

Vernon on the other hand had trouble to keep his composure. Something about the way you smiled at him and the accent of your English had his ears heat up.

Once the Elevator opened again, he almost fled out into the hallway while you slowly followed with a snicker hidden by your head over your mouth.

“This way please!”

The member od Seventeen were known to be a magnet for chaos and this was proven again when you could hear the loud screams of who you guessed would be Seokmin and Mingyu behind the closed door.

Vernon snorted at the sounds his members made inside. Reminding him of a seal at times like this.

Like a gentleman Vernon opened the door and let you inside. There were only a few members of the group, one being your brother and almost none of the staff.

“Did someone know that we have a new chorographer?” he yelled in korean towards the guys, thinking that you weren’t able to understand him like this.

It was comical how fast all heads whipped around to stare at him.

Woozi groaned upon seeing you standing behind Vernon while grinning like a cat.

The few members who had recognized you smiled in amusement.

“Aish! Lee y/n! Did you prank him? Vernon-ah, this isn’t a choreographer. She’s my sister.” The producer sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Ah Jihoon-ah, why rat me out so fast?” you complained with a whine.

Vernon, confused and a little dazed at the turn of events had to pick his jaw up from the floor. Stammering at you with a pout. Joshua patted his back while passing him.

“I see you have met y/n.”

“She- she’s not a-“

“All she is, is a brat!” Jihoon answered and slapped the back of your head gently with his bag slung over his shoulder, ready to leave.

“You’re no fun Jihoon-ah.” You called after him.

“Just come with me so we can get some food!” was the response echoing from the hallway.

You turned back to Vernon.

“It was nice to meet you, Vernon. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

With a wink and a flip of your hair you were out the door and gone.

The American slowly turned to Seokmin who didn’t bother holding back his laughter.

“And? What do you say?”

“Hyung…” the younger forced out star struck. “I think I’m in love…”

[xenosagaepisodeone]

my best friend from high school is trying to become a copyright lawyer and. it's weird. last weekend she was telling me how she sometimes gets books off zlibrary and then said that she cheered when it got taken down by the fbi. she has also admitted to pirating other things. like mate you have benefitted from copyright being violated and now you want to enforce it?? why

I'm struck by the concept of someone who reports things for fun like some kind of adult hall monitor, except the teacher they've latched onto for parental-like approval and support is an automatically generated email letting them know that media they've reported got taken down. first known mammal to become wire mother dependant.

[holylulusworld]

The captain at a sex shop

Summary: You’re just doing your job when you catch the eye of a certain captain…

Pairing: PostWS!Steve Rogers x Plussized(short)!Reader

Warnings: mentions of sex toys, incorrect law terms and stuff, fluff, kinda love-struck Steve, size kink

“Do you have a license to sell these,” you huff as the clerk at the sex shop ignores you. “Hello,” you snap your fingers. “You can either show me the papers or take these out of the display.”

“Who do you think you are?” the blonde snaps at you. “You can’t come here and demand shit.” She clicks her tongue and turns to walk away.

“Well, I work for the Avengers initiative, little miss plastic boobs,” you sneer at her when she dips her head to look you up and down. “Captain America for sure didn’t sign shit for you to sell dildos claiming that the trader measured Captain Rogers’ dick himself.”

“Show me your badge, inspector,” she bites back.

“Fine, you want it the hard way then,” you smirk as you get your badge out. “Tony Stark hired me to make sure no one sells illegal shit any longer. Last year, someone sold an Iron Man toaster, and it exploded. It almost killed a kid.”

You put your hands on your hips and size the woman up. She swallows thickly as you impatiently tap your foot.

“I-I…” she stammers while nervously looking around the shop. Customers stopped looking at the products and followed your conversation. “I found them online…”

“Where? Who sold this shit to you? You know, it’s illegal claiming that Captain Rogers let someone measure his dick. I will confiscate them all.”

“All? But—but I paid a thousand bucks for the dildos, miss. Will I get the money back?”

You laugh. “Miss, you’re lucky Captain Rogers doesn’t sue you. Now pack that shit up.”

“I only wanted to make money.”

“Copyright infringement is a crime, lady. You shouldn’t sell stuff you know is not licensed,” you grunt. “If only people would learn, I could have a very relaxed job.”

“Copyright infringement?” she stares at you. Bewildered. “That’s insane!”

“Well, you claim to sell Captain Rogers’ cock. But it belongs only to him, don’t you think? It’s on his body after all,” you grin when she looks a little flustered. You’re bold and downright cocky. 

“I’ll get them all…wait,” she caves in, but gives you a stinky eye. “I hope you’re happy now.”

“No. Why would I? I got to drive around with hundreds of dicks in my trunk and can’t even use one of them,” you snicker when her cheeks turn red. “Now hurry up. I got to check on three more shops. One of them claims to sell the serum turning you into Hulk. I bet it’s a hoax, but you never know…”

While you fight over the dildos Captain America style with the woman, a pair of blue eyes watch you. He grins and chuckles as you try to snatch one of the dildos out of a customer’s hands. 

“Hands off! I just confiscated all of them.”

The woman won’t give up. She presses the dildo to her chest while throwing insults at you. “That’s mine!”

“Listen, lady. If you don’t hand it over, I’ll call the cops,” you purse your lips, “Do you really want me to call them?”

“Ladies,” you stiffen as a familiar voice stops the woman from fighting for the dildo. She pales and drops the sex toy to the ground. “Please don’t fight. She’s only doing her job.

“C-captain America!!! What are you doing here?” the clerk asks. She’s as shocked as you, the customer, and the rest of the people at the shop.

“I was walking past the shop and heard a commotion, “Steve lies. “I thought someone needs help. I was right, I guess.”

“Uh-I’ve got this handled, Sir-I mean Captain. You can leave this to me,” you glance at Steve Rogers, the golden boy. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, nervously looking down at you.

“I can see that,” he smirks when you turn your attention back toward the shelves filled with Captain America dildos.

“Phew, that’s the last one,” you pant as you put the last box filled with the confiscated dildos on the ground. You stored them at your office for the time being, or until one of the people with a higher pay grade decides on the dildos' fate.

You fall into your chair, groaning as your back hurts after carrying all the boxes into your office. All those strong men in the building, and not a single one offered their help.

Of course not. You’re just a little ant, a tiny wheel in the machinery called the Avengers initiative. No one but the colleagues working next door knows your name.

“So…what are you trying to ask me?” Tony rolls his eyes as Steve came to his office only to not say a single word. “Capsicle, I’m not a telepath. If you want to get information, you need to ask questions.”

“The woman working for you, what’s her name?”

“Woman? Which one, Steve? I got a lot of employees,” as Steve tries to describe you, Tony rolls his eyes again. 

“Short, cute, and cocky?” the billionaire chuckles. “That’s the worst description of a person I ever heard. I need more information.”

“She confiscates things for you. Uh-she said something about a toaster,” Steve clears his throat. He doesn’t want to tell Tony what you confiscated today, or that he was at a sex shop. “I don’t know what this means.”

“Oh. This sounds like Y/N Y/L/N. Pepper hired her after the incident with the toaster,” Tony explains. “Someone sold toasters, claiming to be my partner, and that I helped produce them. A kid almost died.”

“Hmm…” Steve nods thoughtfully. “What’s her job? Where’s her office?"

“I don’t know,” Tony shrugs. “Pepper knows more about Y/N’s job.”

“Do you at least know where her office is? I want to thank her for doing a great job,” Steve believes he will go to hell for all the lies he told today. “Tony?”

“Sure…wait…let me check the…” Tony huffs. “I’ll call Pepper. Give me a minute.”

“Hi, can I come in?” someone knocks at your door right when you were about to have a snack. “Hello? Anyone in there?”

“Come on in,” you sigh. You will eat something later then. 

“Hi,” Steve Rogers pokes his head in. He doesn’t enter your office, only glances at you. “Can I come in, or do you have too much to do?”

“You can come in, Captain,” you jump up to open the door wider for Steve. “Hi. Uh-what brings you here? Is it about the incident at the shop?”

“I wanted to thank you,” he hesitantly enters the room. “You defended my…honor…I mean…you know what I mean.”

“Oh-that was nothing,” you play it cool. Steve Rogers makes you nervous. Like really nervous. He’s so tall, bulky, and pretty. You stare up at him, feeling a little lightheaded as he holds your gaze. “I only did my job, Sir.”

“What are you going to do with all of these?” he glances at the dildos in his colors, stored in boxes. Steve licks his lips.

He can’t tell you that the fact you are tiny compared to him makes his size kink go worse, or that he can’t think of anything but you since he saw you at the shop.

“I’m waiting for instructions,” you shrug. “I store them here until my boss tells me what to do with them.”

“What about the serum you mentioned at the store?” his eyes drop to your chest, wandering further down, stopping at your thighs. He inhales sharply as he images your legs wrapped around his waist.

“It was a fake. Someone sold green slushies tasting like spinach,” you drop your eyes to the boxes filled with dildos. “Most of the time they sell dildos or crap, nothing dangerous.”

“How about I invite you for lunch to properly thank you,” Steve offers. He shyly glances at your hand, itching to just grab it. “It’s the least I can do.”

“I was about to have a snack,” you lick your lips. “I could go for lunch, though. I haven’t eaten anything yet.”

He hums as you turn toward your desk to grab your bag and jacket. His eyes glued to your ass he feels his pants grow tighter. Steve bites his lower lip, chewing on it as he imagines putting his hands on you.

“Ready?” you glance over your shoulder, catching him staring. 

“Ready,” he clears his throat, acting as if he didn’t stare at your ass. “I’m glad you want to join me.”

“Me too.”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[ros64]

Dal gruppo Fb “Outlandet Élite”

Ecco la traduzione in inglese dell’estratto:

⚠️⚠️⚠️ WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NOT READ ALL BOOKS UP TO BEES ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Excerpt from Book Ten (Untitled), Copyright 2024 Diana Gabaldon

Released on Diana’s Facebook page for the Third Sunday of Advent 🕯🕯🕯

[EXCERPT FROM BOOK TEN, Copyright 2024 Diana Gabaldon]

William opened his eyes and lay still. He had grown used to not knowing exactly where he was upon waking, except when he slept in the woods. At night, the woods are mysterious places, and his inner ear picked up sounds all night long. A deep part of his brain evidently recognized and dismissed things like wind in the leaves, falling acorns, or rain ticking on his shelter’s canvas, but it was sensitive enough to register the heavy padding of a bear walking nearby, not to mention branches snapping under its weight.

This behavior on the part of his brain kept him aware of his surroundings throughout the night, ensuring he wouldn’t be caught off guard at dawn, even though he never fully woke.

Last night, however, he had slept like a dormouse, exhausted from the journey, after stuffing himself with warm food and as much alcohol as he could hold. His memory of going to bed was hazy, but now he lay on the floor of an empty room: he could feel the smooth boards beneath his hands, something warm over him. Light filtered through a window covered with burlap…

And suddenly, the thought struck him, without warning.

I’m in my father’s house.

“Jesus,” he said aloud, sitting up and blinking. All the events of the previous day came rushing back—a jumble of effort, sweat, worry, climbing through forests and cliffs, and finally, the sight of a large, beautiful house with glass windows. Glass windows? Here in this wilderness? The panes sparkled in the sun, incongruous among the trees.

He had driven himself and his horse past fear and fatigue, and then… there he was, sitting on the porch. James Fraser.

There had been other people on the porch and in the yard, but he hadn’t noticed any of them. Just him. Fraser. He had spent miles and days deciding what to say, how to explain the situation, how to phrase his request… and in the end, he simply stumbled onto the porch, out of breath, and said, “Sir, I need your help.”

He took a deep breath and ran both hands through his disheveled hair, reliving the moment. Fraser had immediately risen, come down the steps, and taken him by the arm. And he’d said, “You have it.”

“You have it,” William repeated softly to himself. Yesterday, it had been enough: the relief of knowing help was at hand. The relief was still with him, but other things had crept in as he slept.

The thought of Papa was still a blade in his chest and a stone in his belly. He hadn’t forgotten, even under the onslaught of people and the comfort of a lot of whisky.

There had been a flood of people, pouring out of the house, spilling into the yard and from what seemed to be a gathering under a huge tree. He had only noticed three people in the swirling crowd: Mama Claire, little Fanny, and, moments later, his sister.

Sister. He hadn’t expected to find Brianna here. He had been too stunned by fear, terror, apprehension, fury, and despair, all crashing in on him at once, to try to imagine his reception at Fraser’s Ridge. And_, he admitted to himself, because I could barely stay on my horse, and if I had tried to make the speech I’d planned, I’d have fallen flat on my face before I got out the first sentence.

But he had said it, and he’d gotten his answer.

The reassurance of that was enough to get him to his feet. The thing that had covered him was a pathetic bit of knitwork the color of vomit, which he carefully folded and set aside. He looked around for something useful and found a battered tin jug propped against the door, with a large bottle beside it bearing a label tied to its neck that read “Drink Me.”

He pulled the stopper and sniffed. Water. Just what he needed, and he drank deeply, holding the bottle with one hand and unbuttoning his breeches with the other.

He had just finished when the door opened. He choked, spraying water, and fumbled to cover himself with his other hand.

“Good morning, William,” said Fanny. “I brought you something to break your fast. But there’s porridge and bacon downstairs when you’re ready.” She held out a thick slice of buttered bread and a wooden cup that smelled of beer, and she looked amused.

“Thank you, Fanny,” he said, fastening his breeches with all the dignity he could muster. “Ah… how are you?”

“Very well, thank you,” she said, straightening her back and suddenly emphasizing a pair of new little breasts. “I’ve learned to talk. Properly,” she added, rolling her “r”s slightly.

“So it seems,” he said, smiling. “Your voice is delightful, Frances. Is that beer?”

“It is. I made it,” she said proudly, handing him the cup.

It was a small beer, noticeably sour, but he was still thirsty and downed it easily. As well as the bread and butter, which he devoured in a few bites. Frances watched him approvingly.

“Why do women like feeding men?” he asked, swallowing the last bite. “We’re very grateful, of course, but it seems a great effort for a small return.”

She had turned slightly pink, and he thought she looked like a little flower, the kind you find hiding in the grass of a meadow in spring.

“Mrs. Fraser says women want to keep things alive, while men want to kill them,” she said, taking the empty cup. “But we need men to do that for us, so we feed them.”

“Indeed,” he said, rather startled to hear this kind of opinion attributed to Mother Claire.

“Are you going to kill the man who took Lord John?” she asked. The blush had faded, and her eyes were serious. “I listened. I heard what you said to Mr. Fraser.”

He drew a deep breath and felt the fresh, fragrant forest air clear away the last traces of fatigue.

“Yes, Frances,” he said. “I will.

Estratto non indedito dal Libro Dieci (Senza titolo), Copyright 2024 Diana Gabaldon

-

William aprì gli occhi e rimase immobile. Si era abituato a non sapere bene dove si trovasse al suo risveglio, tranne quando dormiva nel bosco. Di notte, i boschi sono luoghi misteriosi, e l'interno del suo orecchio udiva suoni per tutta la notte, una parte profonda del suo cervello evidentemente riconosceva e respingeva cose come il vento tra le foglie, la caduta delle ghiande o il ticchettio della pioggia sulla tela della sua capanna, ma era comunque abbastanza sensibile da avvertire il pesante cuscinetto di un orso che camminava nelle vicinanze, per non parlare dei rami che si spezzavano sul suo cammino.

Il risultato di questo comportamento da parte del suo cervello era di mantenerlo consapevole delle sue circostanze per tutta la notte e quindi non coglierlo di sorpresa all'alba, anche se non si svegliava mai del tutto.

La notte scorsa, però, aveva dormito come un ghiro, sfinito dal viaggio, dopo essersi ingozzato di buon cibo caldo e di tutto l'alcol possibile. Il ricordo di quando era andato a letto era confuso, ma ora era sdraiato sul pavimento di una stanza vuota: sentiva le assi lisce sotto le mani, qualcosa di caldo sopra di lui. La luce filtrava da una finestra coperta di iuta...

E all'improvviso il pensiero si affacciò alla sua mente, senza preavviso.

Sono nella casa di mio padre.

"Gesù", disse ad alta voce, e si alzò a sedere, sbattendo le palpebre. Tutti gli avvenimenti del giorno prima gli tornarono in mente, un'accozzaglia di sforzi, sudore e preoccupazioni, l'arrampicata attraverso la foresta e i dirupi, e infine la vista di una casa grande e bella, con i suoi vetri. In questa natura selvaggia? Le finestre scintillavano al sole, inconsuete tra gli alberi.

Aveva spinto se stesso e il cavallo oltre la paura e la fatica, e poi... eccolo lì, seduto sul portico. James Fraser.

C'erano state altre persone sul portico e nel cortile, ma lui non aveva notato nessuno di loro. Solo lui. Fraser. Aveva passato chilometri e giorni a decidere cosa dire, come descrivere la situazione, come formulare la sua richiesta... e alla fine era semplicemente salito sul portico, trafelato, e aveva detto: "Signore, ho bisogno del Vostro aiuto".

Trasse un profondo respiro e si passò entrambe le mani tra i capelli in disordine, rivivendo quel momento. Fraser si era subito alzato, aveva sceso i gradini e lo aveva preso per un braccio. E gli aveva detto: "Ce l'hai".

"Ce l'hai", ripeté dolcemente a se stesso. Ieri era stato sufficiente: il sollievo di sapere che l'aiuto era a portata di mano. Il sollievo era ancora con lui, ma altre cose si erano insinuate mentre dormiva.

Il pensiero di papà era ancora una lama nel petto e una pietra nel ventre. Non l'aveva dimenticato, nemmeno sotto l'assalto della gente e il conforto di un sacco di whisky.

C'era stata una valanga di gente, uscita dalla casa, scappata dal cortile e da quella che sembrava essere una festa sotto un enorme albero. Aveva notato solo tre persone nella massa vorticosa: Mamma Claire, la piccola Fanny e, qualche istante dopo, sua sorella.

Sorella. Non si aspettava di trovare Brianna qui. Era rimasto troppo stordito dalla paura, dal terrore, dall'apprensione, dalla furia e dalla disperazione, che si erano succedute tutte insieme, per cercare di immaginare il suo ricevimento a Fraser's Ridge. E_, ammise a se stesso, _perché riuscivo a malapena a stare in sella, e se avessi cercato di fare il discorso che avevo pensato, sarei caduto di faccia prima ancora di aver pronunciato la prima frase_.

Ma lui l'aveva pronunciata e aveva ottenuto la sua risposta.

L'incoraggiamento di ciò fu sufficiente a rimetterlo in piedi. La cosa che lo aveva coperto era un misero pezzo di maglia del colore del vomito, che piegò con cura e mise da parte. Cercò un qualche utensile e trovò un vaso di latta malconcio, appoggiato alla porta, con accanto una grande bottiglia con un'etichetta legata al collo che recitava "Bevimi". Tirò il tappo e annusò. Acqua. Proprio quello di cui aveva bisogno e bevve con sete, tenendo la bottiglia con una mano e sbottonandosi i pantaloni con l'altra.

Aveva appena finito quando la porta si aprì. Soffocò, spruzzando acqua, e cercò di coprirsi con l'altra mano.

"Buongiorno, William", disse Fanny. "Ti ho portato qualcosa per rompere il digiuno. Ma di sotto ci sono porridge e bacon. Quando sei pronto". Aveva in mano una spessa fetta di pane imburrato e una tazza di legno che sapeva di birra, e sembrava divertita.

"Grazie, Fanny", disse lui, abbottonandosi i pantaloni con tutta la dignità di cui disponeva. "Ah... come stai?".

"Molto bene, grazie", disse lei e raddrizzò la schiena, mettendo improvvisamente in risalto un paio di nuovi piccoli seni. "Ho imparato a parlare. In modo corretto", aggiunse, roteando leggermente le "r".

"Così sembrerebbe", disse lui, sorridendo. "La tua voce è deliziosa, Frances. È birra?".

"Lo è. L'ho fatta io", disse con orgoglio e gli porse il bicchiere.

Era una birra piccola e sensibilmente acida, ma lui aveva ancora sete e la mandò giù senza fatica. Così come il pane e il burro, che lui divorò in pochi bocconi. Frances lo guardava con approvazione.

"Perché alle donne piace dare da mangiare agli uomini?", chiese lui, ingoiando l'ultimo boccone. "Noi siamo molto riconoscenti, naturalmente, ma sembra un grande sforzo per un piccolo guadagno".

Era diventata un po' rosa in viso e lui pensò che assomigliava a un piccolo fiore, di quelli che si trovano nascosti nell'erba di un prato in primavera.

"La signora Fraser dice che le donne vogliono mantenere in vita le cose, mentre gli uomini vogliono ucciderle", disse prendendo la tazza vuota. "Ma abbiamo bisogno che gli uomini lo facciano per noi, quindi li nutriamo".

"Infatti", disse lui, piuttosto stupito di sentire attribuire questo tipo di opinione a Madre Claire.

"Avete intenzione di uccidere l'uomo che ha preso Lord John?", chiese . Il rossore si era attenuato e i suoi occhi erano seri. "Ho ascoltato. Ho sentito quello che avete detto a Mister Fraser".

Fece un respiro profondo e sentì l'aria fresca e profumata del bosco ripulirlo dalle ultime tracce di stanchezza.

"Sì, Frances", disse, "lo farò".

[natalieironside]

"Secret Window, Secret Garden 2: The Revenge, by John Shooter" by Natalie Ironside

One morning Natalie H. Ironside awoke in her bed to discover she'd been transformed into a young Johnny Depp. "Dang," she said, shaking her head in consternation, "what a raw deal. This ain't what I need right now."

She'd only just begun to process this new development when there came a knock at the door. She opened it to discover an angry man who otherwise looked normal and unremarkable, holding a rolled-up typescript. He'd arrived in a car with Mississippi plates, which struck her as out of the ordinary because, as everyone knows, the state of Mississippi does not require front license plates. Being transformed into a young Johnny Depp overnight had not struck her as odd because, like a vagrant in a C.S. Lewis book, this was hardly her first rum do.

"You stole my story," the angry man said.

"Well, damn," Natalie replied, "that sucks if it's true. What makes you say that?"

They talked for a while, and it was clear the stranger meant well but had a fundamental misunderstanding of US copyright law. "I see what the problem is," Natalie said. "Come inside and we can have some like coffee or whatever and talk it out."

Disarmed, the stranger agreed. He handed her his typescript and said, "My manuscript--"

"Typescript," Natalie corrected. Then, contritely, she added, "Sorry. It just kinda bugs me when people refer to typescripts as manuscripts."

The stranger didn't know how to reply to that. "Just . . . just read it," he said.

After a cursory glance at the first page, she looked up in bemusement and said, "Well, I didn't write this at all. Stephen King did."

The man took back the typescript, muttering something about bringing the wrong paperwork and how he was gonna get in big trouble with the Weez for this one. Seeming at a loss for words without his intended prop, he said, "Listen, I, uh . . . I'm you. I'm like a manifestation of all the rage and resentment you keep bottled up."

"I, like, don't, though," she insisted. "I mean, I do, but not like that guy in the story did. Being open about the darker parts of our personalities is kind of a whole thing with me."

"Yeah, and that's why I'm here talking to you like this instead of going through all that rigamarole. What did you think of the story, anyways?"

"It's one of King's weaker works, if I'm being honest. It woulda made a great short story, but stretching it out into 5 hours just feels like a half-asseded sequel to The Dark Half. Plus DID and schizophrenia don't work anything like that--or, well, this--and that's always been a bit of a bent beam with the guy."

"Yeah," said the man. "Listen, can you just, like, write a story and put my name on it? I know you don't have to, but it would really mean a lot to me, and it'll get me out of your hair."

"Sure thing, man," she replied.

The end.

[artyandink]

ＩＮＴＲＯＤＵＣＩＮＧ — bonnie .ᐟ.ᐟ

she’s a starry-eyed, sweet smiled southern belle of a girl

ATTRIBUTES: smallville’s golden girl, high school’s resident country girl, farm girl by the clock, guitarist— well, when she gets time. all around animal lover, has a soft spot for horses and anything with big eyes, and a certain blue-eyed mystery, but who can help it? loves her old cowboy boots that her mom wore in high school, you’d rarely see an outfit without it. music’s her everything, so is seeing her sweet boy smile.

HISTORY: she’d always been a southern belle— kansas was a midwestern state, sure, but nobody could bring themselves to lose the joy of it, even though she knew it herself. once the meteors struck, she wasn’t anywhere near the worst of it, but a while later she saw the KENTS handling a small boy her age, running in the fields. with a small, gapped grin, BONNIE just knew it, that this boy was gonna be her best friend.

RADIO STATION:

↳ enchanted by taylor swift

↳ dusk till dawn by ZAYN, ft. sia

↳ fuck it I love you by lana del rey

HER EYES ARE ON WHO, NOW? oh, yeah, tyler and most importantly, clark. keep an eye on him, cause she doesn’t know it yet.

↳ copyright to artyandink, all rights reserved. I do not own smallville.

↳ comment ‘pandora’ to join the TAGLIST.

[sweetbottletops]

I was able to read through the English vol 1. The translation was...ok? I knew it couldn't have the the same lines as what we're used to, especially when it comes to teenage slang which can likely go several ways, but I'll probably miss a few lines. Especially what Aya yells at the end.

Since I went over the Japanese volume with a microscope a while back I had time to notice a lot of the work she put into getting the self published twitter manga ready for printing.

When she started off it was more like a covid passion project and I want to say about the first 12 odd chapters had to have a lot of cleaning up, matching the detail levels of later chapters, going back and adjusting screen treatments, and a whole lot of adjusting Aya's expressions to be clearer. Her face was all over the place.

Let's dive in....

As expected she had to remove some copyrighted music art, but there was a surprising amount of references left in and the vibe remains good. Now that I'm looking at it here she also upgrade Koga's desk chair.

Both are Guns N' Roses but different cover art? It must have been for a reason. Negotiations. lol

Aya's unclear emotions are more clear here. She definitely has a bit more sadness when talking about this vs her expression before.

Sometimes she's given teeth and a clearer reaction too. Less of a fear look and more badum badum. Quick grey flashback treatment became the vertical lines she had begun to use in later chapters.

They totally punted on our fever struck Koga referencing a haiku. The people need to know!

Excuse me, it's hunk mode. And rizz. Don't dare take away her rizz.

They mistook who was saying that “sharing troubles” line. It is Koga yelling it. It’s bubble pointing to Koga because she’s saying it. It’s not Narita’s line. And Joe’s “tell Uncle about it” makes more sense to be a response to her. While it can sometimes be tricky to follow who the subject is in Japanese and you have to figure it out contextually it's not hard when there is a point on the speech bubble and a character with her mouth open.

That might be more egregious than not having a favorite line used.

Enough nitpicking from me.

I'd at least suggest looking at the first 12 or so chapters and compare the art to fully appreciate all the work she went through to get her first printed book out last year. It turned out great.

Let's check in on a day after release numbers... B&N and Amazon.

I believe for B&N its for all books within the last 3 months as far as sales cycles, but don't quote me.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

A very Larian Christmas (2024)

This is the short story from Larian Studio's advent calendar of 2024. The copyright belongs to them, not me. I just simply wrote it down for the once who want to read it.

Find the original here: https://advent.larian.com/intro

***A bitter eve indeed***

On a bleak and frosted Yuletide eve, Minthara cleared her throat

and spat the phlegm with scornful glee, as she snarled, and I quote:

"This cursed season's here again, I cannot seem to flee it.

Nor you, with all your Yuletide cheer, who comes to me to plead at."

The goblin blinked away the spit, as he stammered out in fear:

"But Commander, please, the boys need rest, it's just once every year."

"Bah, brainslug!" Minthara did reply, her tone a deadly hiss.

"You want a break? Then break yourself - you'll get no more than this.

One night off, for season's cheer? I'll make sure you regret daring to ask for anything - this is as good as you will get."

And with a loud and thunderous snap,

his bones broke like a vow.

No, no amount of Yuletide cheer would ever save him now.

***Let the spirits come***

Minthara sat in icy dark, the chamber's warmth long lost,

the fire's flame was nearly gone, consumed by winter's frost.

The shadows stirred, the room grew still, a chill crept through the air.

Then from the dark, a figure formed - a face beyond repair.

It was the face of Priestess Gut , who once had served her side,

now bound in chains of spectral light, with hollow, sunken pride.

"You've come to haunt me, have you, Gut?" Minthara scoffed with scorn.

But Gut's dead eyes stared back at her, no mercy to be sworn.

Gut's hollow voice did fill the room, her gaze alight with dread:

"Three spirits come to show your fate, the path that lies ahead.

These chains I bear are for my sins, the souls I once betrayed.

Your chains will come, and heavier still, for debts you've yet to pay."

Gut faded with a mournful wail: "You'll see when they appear,

the weight of all your wicked wayswill soon become too clear."

In the silence, shadows deepened; Minthara's gaze was set.

"Let them come", she whispered low, "I've nothing to regret."

***Memories served cold***

Minthara lay in restless dark, her room now cold as stone.

When from the shadows stepped a form - both lumbering and alone.

With amber eyes, and long sharp claws, and a voice like the coo of a chicken;

a spectral owlbear revealed itself, right in Minthara's kitchen.

"Fredrik, old friend!" Minthara bellowed out towards the ghost.

"I lost you when those goblins plucked and spit you on the roast.

I can't commend their actions, but the meal was adventitious;

and if you really want to know, your thighs were quite delicious."

The creature cooed and warbled in an inscrutable sort of way;

that probably meant he's sorry, not to worry, it's okay.

At least that's what Minthara thought, before he gripped her by the hair,

and pulled her up and back through time into memories laid bare.

***Bearer of a solemn warning***

They landed in a dim-lit hall, where a girl of ten stood standing;

soaked in the blood of the assassin sent to kill her in the landing.

A wicked smile crossed her face, twisted and serene,

and in return, Minthara's grin grew reflecting what she'd seen.

"A fine death," purred Minthara at what her younger self had done;

her eyes gleaming with memories of early battles she had won.

And that one time that her mother tried to kill her in the dark.

When she first felt something within her igniting like a spark.

The owlbear's grumble filled the air at an octave deemed concerning.

As if to say, perhaps Minthara missed points in lessons she should be learning.

"Look on this and change your ways," Fredrik warbled, feathers ruffled.

"Murder poisons all within, and soon your heart will buckle."

The ghost was sure his warning struck, conveyed in solemn swell,

and her nodding smile assured him that she'd understood well.

Yet all she caught were frantic clucks, the words lost in a crack;

for her potion of animal speaking lay stashed in her other slacks.

***An appeal to her present nature***

Minthara found herself alone in bed in Northdark county;

awoken by the laughter of one called Gale (nee Tim Downey).

"That rhyming couplet was so forced, its writer should be banned

from ever writing advent poems," and then took her hand.

Gale led her to a Yuletide meal, a humble goblin spread,

where scraps were shared and laughter dim, though cheer was not yet dead.

Invisible, she lingered close, as voices murmured low,

and talk soon turned to Minthara, to the harshness she would show.

"She's fierce, too fierce," the goblins sighed, "a wall none dare to breach.

To work for her's to walk on glass, with orders none dare to breach.

She drives us hard, no mercy shown, her pride cuts deep and cold.

Each task we bear without a break, each word a weight untold."

A sickly goblin, frail and sweet, with cane clasped in hand,

spoke up with gentle warmth and care, though weak; his tone was grand:

"It's Yuletide now, a time to mend, to open hearts anew;

and maybe even welcome her, as harsh as she may be, too."

Gale leaned in close and softly spoke: "Your strength, it has its place.

But walls you build to guard yourself keep warmth from your embrace.

Let others in; the fiercest bonds come not from pride alone,

to lead, you must reveal your heart, not sit upon a throne."

Gale watched her face, his hope renewed, convinced his words had struck;

that seeds of trust and softer ties might yet dislodge her stuck.

But Minthara's thoughts were elsewhere still, on power and control.

Her mind untouched by softer words, no shifting in her soul.

Gale gave a nod, then waved farewell, and vanished from her sight:

leaving Minthara once again alone in winter's night.

But soon a musk, both stale and dank, crept in from the shadows deep.

A figure cloaked in timeworn cloth with skin like dried, cracked peat.

***Minthara's Yuletide reckoning***

His face a skull beneath the folds, eyes hollow, dark, and cold -

a whisper from the edge of death, with secrets ages old.

Withers reached out his bony hand, and Minthara followed suit.

They stepped into her future's shade, a vision stark and brute.

She saw herself, long cold and dead, her armour picked for gold,

as looting goblins mocked her life, now safe from her stronghold.

"She was a terror, harsh and fierce," they laughed and shook their heads;

"she made no friends, no bonds in life, just fear and mounting dread."

To look upon her solemn face, one might well think her deeply stirred,

a glimpse of doubt upon her brow, her heart perhaps deterred.

It seemed her gaze grew softer now, as though she'd come to see,

that strength alone, without a bond, might truly end in misery.

With visions of her future clear, Minthara felt embolden;

and so she turned, with lesson learned, her heart finally wide open.

She called her goblins to the hall, a feast spread wide and grand -

a Yuletide bounty, rich and full, set out by her command.

There lay platters heaped with roasted game, with pies and cider poured.

Huge hams glazed thick, and golden loaves, and meat pies richly stored.

Jugs of wine and sugared fruits, a spread both fine and rare.

Each dish a treat, each plate a prize, beyond what goblins dare.

"Eat well!" she called, her tone sincere,

her voice filled with merry cheer.

"A happy Yuletide, one and all! Enjoy your feasting here!"

The goblins cheered and tucked right in, grotesque and loud they ate;

with gnashing teeth and slobbering lips, they gorged on every plate.

But as they dined,

their cheers grew faint, each goblin slowed and sighed.

One by one they slumped and fell, as Minthara watched them die.

For every dish was laced with death, each bite a poisoned curse -

A Yuletide feast, to end their lives, and leave her halls dispersed.

Minthara laughed, her goblins gone, her eyes as dead as bone,

"This Yuletide feast has shown me well - I'm better off alone.

To all who'd dare to scavenge mine, consider yourselves done;

for strength is found in solitude - Gods curse you, every one!"

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How tech does regulatory capture

If you want to know which industries have the most influence in DC, study the trade deals struck by the US Trade Representative, whose activities are the most obvious manifestation of American corporate power over state. Take the Indo-Pacific Economic Framework (IPEF). As David Dayen notes, this treaty is a kind of Big Tech wishlist:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-04-18-big-tech-lobbyists-took-over-washington/

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/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

The USTR’s playbook has changed over the years, reflecting the degree of control over the US government exerted by different sectors of the US economy. Today, with Big Tech in the driver’s seat, US trade deals embody something called the “digital trade agenda,” a mix of policies ranging from limiting liability, privacy protection, competition law, and data locatization.

The Digital Trade Agenda is a relatively new phenomenon. A decade ago, when the USTR went abroad to twist the arms of America’s trading partners, the only “digital” part of the agenda was obligations to spy on users and to swiftly remove materials claimed to have violated US media monopolies’ copyright. But as the tech sector grew more concentrated, they were able to seize a greater share America’s trade priorities.

One person who had a front-row seat for this transformation was Wendy Li, a PhD candidate in sociology at the University of Wisconsin, who served in the USTR’s office from 2015–17, and who leveraged her contacts among officials and lobbyists (and ex-lobbyists turned officials and vice-versa) to produce a fascinating, ethnographic account of a very specific form of regulatory capture. That account appears in “Regulatory Capture’s Third Face of Power,” in Socio-Economic Review. The article is paywalled, but if you access it via this link, you can bypass the paywall:

https://pluralistic.net/wendi-li-reg-capture

Li’s paper starts with a taxonomy of types of regulatory capture, drawn from the literature. The first kind — the “first face of power” — is when an industry wins some battle over a given policy, triumphing over the public interest. Li notes that defining “public interest” is sometimes tricky, which is true, but still, there are some obvious examples of this kind of capture.

My “favorite” example of horrible regulatory capture is from 2019, when Dow Chemical — working through the West Virginia Manufacturers Association — convinced the state of West Virginia to relax the limits on how much toxic runoff from chemical processing could be present in the state’s drinking water. Dow argued that the national safe levels reflected a different kind of person from the typical West Virginian. Specifically, Dow argued, the people of West Virginia were much fatter than other Americans, so their bodies could absorb more poison without sickening. And besides, Dow concluded, West Virginians drink beer, not water, so poisoning their drinking water wouldn’t affect them:

https://washingtonmonthly.com/2019/03/14/the-real-elitists-looking-down-on-trump-voters/

This isn’t even a little ambiguous. Dow’s pleading wasn’t just absurd on its face — it was also scientifically bankrupt — there’s no evidence that being overweight makes you less susceptible to carcinogens. And yet, the state regulator bought it. Why? Well, maybe because chemical processing is WV’s largest industry, and Dow is the largest chemical company in the state. Regulatory capture, in other words.

The second kind of regulatory capture is the “revolving door”: when an executive from industry rotates into a role in government, where they are expected to guard the public interest from their former employers. There’s some of this in every presidential administration — think of Obama’s ex-Morganstanley and ex-Goldmansachs finance officials.

But while Obama and other “normal” pols sketched their corruption with a fine-tipped pen, making the overall shape hard to discern, Trump scrawled large, crude, unmissable figures with a fisted Sharpie. Remember Scott Pruitt, the disgraced Trump EPA who wanted to abolish the EPA? Pruitt was was such a colossal asshole that even the lobbyists who’d been bribing him with free housing actually evicted him:

https://www.cnn.com/2018/04/06/politics/pruitt-trump/index.html

After Pruitt resigned in the midst of chaotic scandal, he was succeeded by his deputy, Andrew Wheeler — a former coal lobbyist:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/05/climate/scott-pruitt-epa-trump.html

That’s the “second face of power.” What’s the third? It’s taking over the shape of the debate, getting to define its axioms. Think of the reflexive idea that government projects are “wasteful” and “inefficient.” Once all players internalize this idea, the debate shifts from “what should the public sector do?” to “which private-sector entity should the government pay to do this?” Anyone who says, “Wait, why doesn’t the government just do this?” just gets blank stares.

We can see this in the cramped and inadequate debate over the SVB bailout; apologists for the bailout insist that it was necessary because if SVB’s depositors had been forced to take a haircut, every large depositor in America would pile into Morganstanley, making it so “too big to fail” that it could tank the nation.

This is probably true — but only if you discount the possibility of establishing a public bank. Public banks are hardly a radical idea: America had nationwide public banking through the postal service until 1966:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/15/socialism-for-the-rich/#rugged-individualism-for-the-poor

Li summarizes: “the first face of power is measured through the winner of the game, and the second face of power can be understood as the referee. The third face of power is the field, the rulebook, and agreement that there is even a game at all.”

It’s the creation of this third face that Li’s paper dissects — the creation of “Type I” ideas that form the unquestioned assumptions for all other debate. Sociologist call these ideas “schemas.” Li describes two ways that the tech industry changed the schemas used in trade negotiations. First, schemas are changed through “knowledge production” — creating reports and data.

Second, schemas are embedded through “recursive institutional reproduction” — a bit of unfortunately opaque academic jargon that is roughly equivalent to what activists call “policy laundering.” That’s when an industry can’t get its way in its home country, so it leans on trade reps to include that policy in a treaty or trade deal, which transforms it into an obligation at home.

In tech policy, the Ur-example of this is the DMCA, a 1998 digital copyright law that has profoundly changed the way we relate to everything from online services to our coffee makers. The origins of the DMCA are wild. In 1991, Al Gore kicked off the National Information Infrastructure hearings — AKA the “Information Superhighway” project. One of the most prominent proposals for the future of the internet came from Bruce Lehman, Bill Clinton’s Copyrigh tCzar. Lehman had been the head of IP enforcement for Microsoft, and he had some genuinely batshit ideas for the internet, like requiring a separate, negotiated copyright license for every transitory copy made by RAM, or a network buffer, or drive cache:

https://www.wired.com/1996/01/white-paper/

Gore laughed Lehman out of the room and told him to hit the road. So Lehman did, scurrying over to Geneva, where he turned his batshit ideas into the WIPO Copyright Treaty (WCT) and the WIPO Performances and Phonograms Treaty (WPPT). Then he raced back to DC where he told Congress that they had to get on board with those UN treaties. In 1998, Congress passed the DMCA, turning a failed regulatory policy into a federal law that endures to this day.

That’s “policy laundering.” Lehman couldn’t get his ideas though the US government, so he rammed them through a UN agency, converting his proposal into an obligation, which Congress duly assumed.

The Digital Trade Agenda triumphed by both knowledge production and recursive institutional reproduction (AKA policy laundering). Under Obama, trade officials created the Digital Trade Working Group in consultation with industry, through the US Chamber of Commerce. This group worked with the US International Trade Commission (USITC) — a quasi-governmental research body — to produce copious reports, testimony and data in support of a focus on “digital trade.”

In particular, they inflated the value of digital trade to US officials, convincing them that getting wins for the digital industry would have an outsized impact on the US economy. This is reflected in the terms of the Trans-Pacific Partnership, a trade deal that was negotiated in the utmost secrecy, in hotels all over the world surrounded by armed guards, where neither the press nor activists were welcome.

TPP represented a kind of farcical wishlist for America’s corporate giants, including the tech sector, and it looked like a done deal — until Trump. Trump unilaterally withdrew from TPP, so the tech industry’s reps simply tacked around TPP. They took everything they’d wanted to get out of TPP and crammed it into the USMCA, Trump’s rewrite of NAFTA. This makes perfect sense — corporate America’s priority was TPP’s policies, not TPP itself.

Li’s paper doesn’t just document this shift, she also gives us interviews with (anonymized) officials and lobbyists who speak frankly about how this happened behind the scenes. For example, a former Commerce official turned tech lobbyist describes how he lobbies his former coworkers: “Sometimes, [meetings are like] hey, let’s grab lunch, let’s grab coffee, and catch up. And half of it is about our kids, and half of it is about this [work related issue]. We’ll have a formal meeting [with government officials], but obviously we chitchat before and after. Because we’re human. So, a lot of it is just normal human interaction, right?”

This social coziness lets lobbyists position themselves as “stakeholders,” which legitimizes — and even requires — their participation in policymaking. As a trade negotiator says, “So to get your handle on a problem, you’ve got to pull the right people together, and you’ve got to sift through all the various ideas, so we obviously have a lot of regular interaction with companies [. . .] I spend a lot of time with the companies trying to understand their business model, try ing to understand how they interact with the governments in different countries, and then of course, socializing it within the building.”

Once lobbyists are “stakeholders,” they get to define not just what position the US takes — they get to define which positions can even be considered. As a trade negotiator says, “[Lobbyists aren’t] coming in and spouting talking points. They’re not giving us draft text because we haven’t gotten to the text phase yet. The way these meetings go is, generally we provide an update on what is happening and what approach we’re taking. The remainder is usually devoted to companies talking about their particular interests, and inquiring as to whether and how their issues are being addressed in that forum.”

That’s not just winning the game — it’s defining the rules.

Li’s paper is a fascinating tour of the sausage-factory and a close examination of the gunk that litters the factory floor. That said, I think there are areas where she drops policies and fights into neat categories that are much messier. For example, Li contrasts the rules in TPP with the rules in ACTA, the Anti-Counterfeiting Trade Agreement, a failed international treaty from 2010.

Li characterizes ACTA as being an anti-tech proposal because it imposed copyright liability on tech companies, which would have raised their costs by forcing them to police their users’ speech, items for sale and uploads for copyright infringement. But that’s not quite right: ACTA was much broader. First, because “counterfeiting” doesn’t mean what you think it does: in an international trade agreement, counterfeiting concerns itself with all kinds of totally legitimate activities.

For example, Apple engraves microscopic Apple logos on every part in an iPhone; no user ever sees these parts. But Apple uses the presence of an Apple trademark on these tiny components to lodge trademark claims with US border officials in order to block the importation of parts harvested from dead iPhones, as part of the company’s war on repair:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/30/80-lbs/#malicious-compliance

Likewise, companies like Rolex and Cartier have national subsidiaries in countries all over the world with the exclusive license to sell their goods in each country. These companies then claim that, say, an official Mexican Rolex watch becomes a counterfeit Rolex the minute it crosses the US border, because Rolex Mexico doesn’t have the right to use Rolex International’s trademarks outside of Mexico.

Asking tech companies to police “counterfeits” isn’t just about stopping knockoffs — it’s about letting multinational corporations control all secondary markets for their goods, giving them total control over repair and used goods.

Beyond that: creating an affirmative duty for platforms to police their users’ uploads and speech for copyright infringement is one of those things that not only won’t prevent copyright infringement (beating filters is easy for dedicated copyright infringers), but it will also compromise users’ speech (because filters are rife with false positives) — and it will hand eternal dominance to the largest tech firms (both Youtube and Facebook support mandatory filters, because they’ve spent hundreds of millions on them, and know that their small rivals can’t).

ACTA wasn’t a way to “punish” tech to make life better for media companies — it was a way to shift some of the oligarchic control of both tech and media around, while shoring up its dominance. Yes, parts of the tech sector hated ACTA, but it died because millions of people campaigned against it.

And of course, ACTA got policy-laundered into law in 2019, when the EU adopted the Digital Single Market Directive and created a filtering mandate, ignoring the largest petition in EU history and the people who marched in 50 cities. That was recursive institutional reproduction in action all right.

Likewise, TPP can’t be understood as the tech sector sidelining the entertainment companies — because both of them rallied for the parts of TPP that feathered all their nests. For example, the entertainment sector and the tech sector both love rules against reverse-engineers (like Section 1201 of the DMCA), which make it a felony to unlock your books, music, games and videos from the store that sold them to you and take them with you to another player.

Tech loves this because it gets them lock-in — if you break up with Amazon, you have to kiss your Kindle and Audible books goodbye. Media loves it because it gives them control — DRM stops you from recording Christmas movies between Feb and Dec, when they come free with your streaming service, and that means you have to pay-per-view them in December, when you want to watch them.

In other words, the Big Tech and Big Content’s policy fights aren’t so much about which policies we get — they’re about who gets to profit from them. They both want the same stuff — no taxes, no unions, no minimum wage, no consumer rights, no privacy — but they each want to hoard the benefits from that stuff.

Both tech and media love “IP” — not in the sense of “copyright” or “trademark,” but in the sense of “any law that lets me control the conduct of my competitors, critics and customers”:

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

In USMCA, it wasn’t just the “Digital Trade Agenda” that made it into the final agreement — it was mandatory DRM laws, massive copyright extensions, and the evisceration of fair use and its equivalents in Mexico and Canada:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/08/01/set-healthy-boundaries/#la-ley

There’s another important factor missing from Li’s analysis of the rise of the Digital Trade Agenda: monopoly. Tech used to be composed of hundreds of competing firms that hated each other’s guts and were incapable of working together. The entertainment industry, by contrast, was already hugely consolidated and able to lobby effectively as a body.

That was hugely important in the Napster Wars, when international copyright proposals like the Database Right and the Broadcast Treaty were popping up at the UN and in country-to-country trade deals. While the tech industry was competing to give users a better deal, Big Content was able to solve the collective action problem and come up with a common lobbying position, getting nearly identical (and absolutely ghastly) tech bills introduced in dozens of state legislatures at once:

https://web.archive.org/web/20030425210736/https://www.eff.org/IP/DMCA/states/200304_sdmca_eff_analysis.php

The rise of the Digital Trade Agenda is downstream of tech industry consolidation, the orgy of mergers that saw the internet transformed into “five giant websites, each filled with screenshots of text from the other four”:

https://twitter.com/tveastman/status/1069674780826071040

Li’s taxonomy of regulatory capture is useful and important, and it’s complimented by an analysis of failures in antitrust enforcement. Market consolidation has produced firms that are more powerful than the governments that are supposed to keep them honest. When the teams have more power than the ref, the game will never be fair:

https://doctorow.medium.com/small-government-fd5870a9462e

The tech industry aren’t really adverse to the entertainment industry, at least not where it counts. They are all part of the business lobby, whose regulatory priorities are broadly shared, even if they disagree at the margins. Dayen describes how the Digital Trade Agenda is playing out in IPEF, the treaty with more than a dozen Pacific Rim countries: “It would prohibit governments from reviewing or prescreening algorithms for violations of labor law, competition policy, or nondiscrimination statutes. It would bar limitations on data flows or storage. And it would treat policies that have greater impacts on the large tech firms as illegal trade barriers. These terms could block signatory countries from writing laws that take on any of these issues.”

Those aren’t tech priorities — those are corporate priorities. The success of the “Digital Trade Agenda” isn’t just because tech grew up and started lobbying — it’s because the things they lobby for are the things every business wants: no labor protection, no antitrust, no privacy.

That’s the “schema” that matters: the bedrock assumption that job of US trade policy is to make sure that workers and residents abroad have no rights, with the obligation on America to dismantle the few rights that remain intact in its borders to satisfy the “obligation” it actually insisted on.

Later this week (Apr 20/21), I’m speaking in Chicago at the Stigler Center’s Antitrust and Competition Conference.

This weekend (Apr 22/23), I’m at the LA Times Festival of Books.

[Image ID: The Milky Way. Standing to the left of the frame is a giant ogrish figure, a top-hatted, cigar-chomping caricature of a capitalist. He emerges from behind a silhouetted tree, towering over it. With one white-gloved hand, he is yanking a golden, dollar-sign-shaped lever at a control box. With the other hand, he disdainfully dangles a 'big blue marble' image of Earth from space. The starry sky is partially blended with a green-on-black 'code waterfall' effect in the style of the Matrix movie open credits. The ogre's eyes have been replaced with the glaring red eyes 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

 — 

Andy (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Milky_Way_and_Andromeda_Galaxies.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[pattywagon2go]

Valve, Team Fortress 2, and My Frustrations

DISCLAIMER: Do not, and I repeat, do not, harass anyone at Valve. This helps nothing. This post is purely my own opinion and I do not represent the TF2 Community in any way. Feel free to disagree with anything I say here.

I normally don’t comment on these types of things, but with how much of a nerve this struck with me, I figured I couldn’t remain silent on it anymore. In light of the recent takedown of Team Fortress: Source 2 and (to a lesser extent) Portal 64 shuttering its doors, I want to talk about Valve and its mistreatment of Team Fortress 2, from letting the game rot with cheating bots and cheaters roaming servers to making false promises to the community so desperate for any kind of fix from the only people who can fix TF2.

Before I get into that, I want to address the takedown stuff regarding Team Fortress: Source 2 and Portal 64, as there's been a lot of misinformation regarding both of these fan projects.

So to get everyone up to speed, one day ago (at the time the script of this post is being written), Team Fortress: Source 2, a port of TF2 to Source 2 using S&Box (the spiritual successor to Garry’s Mod), and Portal 64, a demake of Portal 1 to run on the Nintendo 64, both had their plug pulled after Valve filed a DMCA Copyright Takedown to TF: Source 2's Github repository, and after the dev for Portal 64 got a message from Valve warning them not to continue. The reasoning for TF:Source 2's takedown appears to be because the game used assets ripped from TF2, which is very much not allowed by Valve, while Portal 64 shut its doors not because Valve filed a DMCA takedown, but because the dev got a message from Valve saying that they shouldn't continue since the project relies on Nintendo code libraries.

If you want more information, there's a great video explaining it here, but either way you chop it, Valve shouldn't be called out as having changed their stance on mods, because they haven't. A mod, by its definition, is a modification to an existing game. The first Team Fortress was a mod of Quake I, not a full remake of it in a different engine. Something like Portal: Revolution, a mod for Portal 2 which adds in a brand new campaign, and TF:Source 2 are NOT comparable at all simply because one is adding to a preexisting game, while the other is basically a carbon copy of said game but in a different engine. And low and behold, Valve was fine with Portal: Revolution, while Valve wasn't fine with TF:Source 2. You cannot say that Valve's stance on modding has changed when looking at TF:Source 2 simply because TF:Source 2 isn't a mod to begin with. And in the case of Portal 64, first of all the rhetoric that Valve filed a DMCA takedown isn't true at all. If so, you would have seen the list of DMCA takedowns on Github increase by two. Valve just messaged the dev creating Portal 64 with a warning that they shouldn't continue due to it using proprietary Nintendo libraries. And if you don't know already, Nintendo is infamous for how hard they are on anyone who uses their properties without their permission. If anything, Valve should be getting praise for this for stepping in and preventing a powder keg from exploding in front of this dev's face. And even if Valve did say nothing about it, Nintendo would have said something about it eventually, and we all know how that could have turned out. Frankly, the simple warning from Valve is infinitely preferable from the ways Nintendo could have easily ruined the person who was making Portal 64's life forever.

So now that that's out of the way, time for the actual meat of the post. Time to discuss Valve's treatment of Team Fortress 2 and the community at large.

First off, how did we get here to begin with?

To make a long story short, TF2 had an issue of cheaters roaming servers as far back as 2019, but it kicked into high gear in 2020, when cheating bots were swarming Casual servers left and right, making the game unplayable for many. And this continues to this very day in 2024, 4 entire years after this whole mess began.

This isn’t even hard to prove, all you have to do is queue for Casual and you’ll find a bot immediately (all names censored to not give the people who run these things attention).

For 4 years straight, TF2 has been ravaged by cheaters and bots hellbent on ruining the game. And what has Valve done about it? Mute and gag free-to-play players, make some changes to how votekicking works, etc. Except all of these were just stop-gap solutions, not actual solutions which could fix the issue long-term. For four years straight, Valve hasn’t even made an attempt at fixing the larger issue whatsoever, while the bots just became worse and worse as the years went by. Now, it’s almost guaranteed any lobby you join will have bots in it. There’s basically nowhere in Casual that isn’t safe anymore.

"But what about savetf2?"

Good point. Let's talk about that.

This is the one I’m most salty about, as this was the very FIRST instance Valve actually acknowledged the state the game was in, and they promised to do anything about it.

For anyone out of the loop, in 2022, a bunch of people within the TF2 Community banded together to get a hashtag on Twitter trending called #savetf2, as a way to get Valve’s attention to the state of the game, due to the bot crisis having gone unresolved for (then) two years. What shocked the community was Valve using the official Team Fortress 2 Twitter account to acknowledge the hashtag, saying “TF2 community, we hear you! We love this game and know you do, too. We see how large this issue has become and are working to improve things.” 

You can still find the tweet here:

At the time, this was huge. Valve, a company infamous for their lack of transparency, had finally responded to the community, promising to fix things. Flash forward two years later, did anything substantial come from this?

I wish.

Valve did their thing and went radio silent once more. No follow-up tweet, no blog post, absolutely nothing. And especially no bot fix update.

And now (at the time of me writing the script for this) #savetf2 is trending once more to bring back Valve’s attention to the issue.

Personally, I can't help but just not expect anything from Valve at this point, because why should I? Why should I expect Valve to do anything when the last time this happened Valve blatantly lied to everyone by saying they were going to do something to fix the issue, yet they didn’t (and so far) still haven’t?

The community, as a whole, have done everything we can to get Valve to do anything.

We bought the new cases and keys.

We bought Tour of Duty tickets for Mann vs. Machine.

We even broke the record for the most players online at a given time.

Valve, thanks to our support, is still actively making money off of this game. And lots of it, at that.

We gave you (and continue to give you) everything, Valve. You gave us (and continue to give us) nothing we want in return.

And this isn't even an isolated example of Valve not being open with the community. Remember the 2023 Summer Update? It was a fairly decent update, which added in a lot of cool community created content, but the leadup to the update was yet another example of Valve not being honest with the community.

Originally, Valve advertised the update as an “Update-sized update”, meaning something bigger than the usual holiday stuff like Smissmass and Scream Fortress. And when people saw that, everyone went crazy. It was a dream come true. Valve would return with the milk at last. Everything would be so great and awesome aaaaaaaaaannnd it was changed sometime later to say “Holiday-sized update”. And everyone was disappointed again.

(Evidence)

Now whether you think this was an accidental miscommunication or a malicious rugpull is up to you. Which one is actually correct we will never know because Valve hasn't (and still hasn't) told us yet! And knowing Valve, this is something I expect they will take to their graves instead of telling the community exactly what happened!

This lack of transparency is exactly the problem I have with Valve.

Valve isn’t being open and honest with the community at all, and this results in false expectations and promises being broken.

Alright, time to preemptively address some of the inevitable criticism I’m going to get with this post.

“Oh what about the new cosmetics, taunts, maps, etc., Valve still cares, you're being too harsh.”

With regards to cosmetics, taunts, maps, etc., first of all, those are all created by the community. Valve had nothing to do with those. Second of all, that’s doing the bare minimum. It doesn’t take a genius to go on the Workshop and approve a certain amount of cosmetics and maps to package into a seasonal update like Scream Fortress and Smissmass. Valve is only feeding us the bare scraps in terms of keeping players engaged. Yes, it’s keeping us alive, but only barely. That isn’t something someone who actually cares would do.

And here's the thing: Don't get the people who work at Valve and Valve as a corporation confused. Valve has some awesome people under its belt, yes, but the people do not represent the company. Valve, as a corporation, only cares about making money. They do not care about you in the slightest. All they see you as is a walking wallet. Valve is very much making a lot of money off of Team Fortress 2, from literally anything that is being sold off the Mann Co. Store. As far as Valve as a corporation is concerned, if the money continues to roll in, why bother doing anything more than the bare minimum?

“If Casual sucks so much just go play on community servers”

Community servers are a fucking mess to begin with. Ads, weird plugins, unwelcoming communities, along with it being more of a “Hang around” experience vs the pick up and play experience Casual offers makes them unappealing for most, if just not an option at all. Community servers only make sense if you are familiar with the community of said server. If you aren’t, then you’re more than likely going to be scared away because of how overwhelming it can be. Casual’s pick up and play nature is much more appealing, especially for new players. Think of it like a new kid who joins your class at school midway through a semester. Everyone knows each other already, so everyone else is fine with being together, but for the new kid, they may stick out like a sore thumb. It may become overwhelming for them. Casual doesn’t have this issue at all, since you are thrown around with different people each time. Community and Casual servers are two completely different camps, so saying Community servers should be the solution just won’t work on a fundamental level.

"The bot problem is complicated, it must be hard for Valve"

Oh most definitely, but even then, what exactly is stopping Valve from simply communicating this with us? Valve's lack of communication with the community is what's causing people to run wild with speculation as to whether a fix is happening or not, and this only results in false promises being made and expectations not being met. If Valve was open about how hard the bot problem is to fix, then I wouldn't be making this post. But that's not the case, and look where it got us. Rock fucking bottom.

“Valve isn’t structured like other companies, people don’t want to work on TF2”

The first part of this is definitely true, Valve is indeed different. Valve employees are free to work on what they want instead of being forced by upper management to work on stuff. But the thing is, if Valve, a company valued at $7.7 billion, can’t find people to help work on TF2, then what the hell is stopping them from asking others to give it a shot instead? There’s plenty of absolutely talented devs who have been working with TF2 for literal YEARS at this point who Valve could absolutely send out a job offer to. Why not them?

“Major updates are hard to do”

This one kinda ties into the one above, in that Valve could hire people to make content for TF2, but I wanted to address this one in a more personal way.

Here’s a controversial take: I don’t want a major content update.

What I want is Valve to finally be honest with us.

Valve’s inaction and radio silence has driven the community up the wall for 4 years straight in the hopes that something was coming to remedy the bot issue. Yet nothing has materialized so far. And the thing is, if Valve absolutely doesn’t want to work on TF2 anymore, why won’t Valve just tell us this? Why do they continue to keep the door open to a possible solution despite the current situation showing nothing is coming from Valve? Why do they continue to leave the community on a cliffhanger as to whether they will help us eventually or we’re going to be on our own for good? It’s this dishonesty from Valve that absolutely boils my blood and leaves me with zero faith in whether anything is coming for TF2 at all. At best, Valve has just said nothing. At worst, Valve made promises to the community about things getting better yet they would either do nothing or change the story last-minute with no explanation whatsoever.

If you made it all the way through this rambly post, you must really care about Team Fortress 2 as much as I do. I love this game and seeing its current state makes me sad. But what makes me angry is the lack of any actual work from Valve whatsoever. Valve had four entire years to fix things, yet didn’t. When Valve finally acknowledged TF2, they only gave Band-Aid fixes to the issue. And when the community asked for more, Valve gave us empty promises that they never acted on. 

I didn't make this post to dunk on Valve for the sake of it or to cause people to boycott Valve. I made this post to show that Valve has a history of dishonesty with TF2, and any and all things that Valve says or promises that are beyond the usual stuff we should expect from Valve at this rate should be met with intense amounts of scrutiny, because Valve is very likely going to break any kind of promise they make to us beyond the stuff that is to be expected from them.

Valve is not honest to the Team Fortress 2 Community. 

Valve is not transparent to the people who continue to hold up their aging team-based first person shooter game from 2007.

Valve does not care about people like you and me.

[poyo-shooty-art]

I don't have another way to post this and my AO3 is forever marked with cringe so....

In celebration of me reviving this au, here's the original fan fiction from March!!!

(and some old ugly ass art)

Peppino stood panting, fists clenched as he stared down Pizzahead. He won, he can finally have his tower back. But Pizzahead started laughing as he got up.

"Is it really that easy to win?" He chuckled as he stood up and popped his back with a comical sound.

He pulled the death ray out of his pocket and grinned.

"Don't a you dare.... I'LL A PUMMEL YOU!" Peppino screamed, clearly ready to start another round.

Pizzahead leaned on the machine and smiled, "Oh don't worry. Your restaurant will be fine"

His hand glided towards a dial and twisted it.

"You however.... Won't go home anytime soon."

Peppino's eyes widened as the ray fired up, he had no way to escape. The exit is blocked and the only way down is a five story fall. He froze for a brief moment. And was struck with a powerful blast of energy....

The toonish pizza smiled and walked over to Peppino's body carefully.

"Well well well.... Looks like you have a big problem Peppino" Pizzahead laughed

Peppino opened his eyes and looked at Pizzahead and all he could do. Was scream

"YEEOOOOOOOOW"

This gave Pizzahead an opening to snatch the chef from where he stood with glee.

"Oh look at you! You're kinda cute when you're tiny!" He cooed

Peppino went straight to biting Pizzahead's finger out of fear.

"GET THE HELL A AWAY FROM ME!!!" He screamed

Pizzahead recoiled and gripped the Italian hard.

"Oh you're so silly!" He grimaced with a smile, "You can't even get away from me!"

He dropped Peppino in his overall pocket, he flailed and cursed Pizzahead out. But there was no escape to Peppino's knowledge, he was too busy trying to break the pocket and tear it to shreds. He is going to KILL Pizzahead when he gets his hands on him, no matter how small they are!

Pizzahead gleefully skipped to a room filled top to bottom with copyright free toy bricks, each making huge structures. One in particular being a crude model of the tower. Figures held together by an oozy and sticky cheese scattered on the floor.

Pizzahead grabbed Peppino by his tank top and smiled, "Welcome to your new home!"

Peppino's eyes darted around, he couldn't stay here at all! He is not going to be some glorified toy! He saw a small hole in the purple brink wall and hoped he could run fast enough to escape. Clearly he wasn't able to beat Pizzahead into a Pizzapulp right now

Pizzahead dropped the Italian on top of the miniature tower and smiled, "Now then! You get to stay here forever! With all these lovely buildings"

Peppino glared, if he wasn't wearing shoes he might as well have be standing on rocks.

Pizzahead clasped his hands together, "Now! Let's have a bit of fun!"

He picked up one of the figures and smiled at Peppino.

"Oh Peppino Peppino! Let down your hair!" He giggled

Peppino stared as the figure dripped with cheese, "uhhhh...."

"Oh wait! Your bald!" Pizzahead laughed at him, finding this hilarious.

Peppino's eye was caught by a rat sniffing around as he stared off in annoyance. However, Pizzahead's eye was also caught as it squeaked a bit too loud

"EUGH! A rat!" Pizzahead screamed as he grabbed a giant mallet and dropped the figure to chase it. It squeaked in apparent horror and scurried away down the hall.

Peppino has his chance! He had to make his escape fast.

Peppino took a deep breath, "Please don't come back, PLEASE don't come back..."

He jumped off the tower and hoped whatever was down on the floor would cushion his fall. If he failed, who knows what torment would await him. Dress up? Car crash? It didn't matter, it was all hell. And he needed to leave. He braced himself and hoped for the best.

* SPLAT *

Peppino had landed in a pile of cheese. He quickly tried to get out of the sticky cheese, as he heard the running approach. Periodically punctuated by the slamming of a giant hammer. Peppino's struggles went from frantic to panicked.

Then, it was too late. Pizzahead was back and still hammering at the rat. Then the rat ran towards Peppino.

"WAIT WAIT WAIT NO BAD RAT!!!!" He screamed

The rat ran up to him and started eating the cheese around him. Pizzahead hesitated to hit the rat now, if he hit the rat. He'd also hit Peppino, and he has *plans* for Peppino. He tried to grab Peppino away from the rat and his cheesy prison. However he was met with a nasty bite.

"WHY YOU LITTLE!-"

He tried to kick the rat, but it was too late. Peppino was free and was given no time. The rat grabbed the Italian by his shirt and dashed away as if its life depended on it. Pizzahead fell flat on his back and crawled after.

He chased the two through the room, heading straight for the large crack in the bricks. The rat galloped towards the hole and slid in last minute.

"Ok... Good rat... Now leave me al-OHHHH" Peppino screamed, at first trying to thank the rat for what it did.

Pizzahead stuck his entire arm in the wall to have a chance at grabbing Peppino.

"Oh Peppino!... Get out here!!..." He growled a bit peeved, far from a bit actually.

The rat just grabbed Peppino and ventured further into the walls.

"This is going to be a long day..." Peppino sighed, being held like a baby rat by the slowly breaking seam of his tank top.

It had been what felt like hours to Peppino, all the scenery was the same. Hard to see purple bricks with the occasional glob of pizza ingredients, the sound of the rats feet pattering on the cold stone and it's squeaking were the sounds he could hear.

He sighed, where was this rat taking him? It can't be far from some weird nest right?

"Stupid rat, saving my life and taking me to some stupid nest..." Peppino grumbled to himself.

The rat hissed slightly at that, this thing knows English.... Peppino rolled his eyes, he really didn't want to be in the walls anymore.

The rat stopped and tugged on a cloth and moved it out of its way, it made a straight beeline for a messy nest of scraps in a large opening. Peppino landed with a cushioned thud and looked at the cloths with disgust, he hoped they were clean. The rat licked his forehead and scurried off into another area.

"EUGH.... Gross..." Peppino cringed as he wiped his face.

He looked around the space, cheese, cheese, scrap fabric, more cheese. Yup, this is a rat nest. However a smell wafted through the area, like cooking. Good cooking even! Peppino got up and brushed himself off. He felt his tank top sag from all it's been through.

"Welp... This thing is about to give out....." He sighed as he peeled the pseudo apron off.

"Gonna have to fix this somehow when I get home..... If I get home..."

Peppino looked over at the hole the rat entered, and entered himself. Inside was an entire living space made entirely of "trash". A bed made from stolen cotton balls, fairy lights stolen from the resort, even a cracked piece of mirror stuck to the wall along with a bottle cap. A sudden clank of kitchen utensils made from outside Peppino freeze.

"Hello? Are you there?"

Who... Who was that?

Peppino panicked, was this one of Pizzahead's goons sent to get Peppino wherever he was? That weird clone mimicking a random person to lure people in? Whatever or whoever it was, he had to prepare. He grabbed the first thing he could grab, which was one of those god damned bricks.

"Great" Peppino groaned, "I can give them a slight foot pain!"

He took the brick despite the uselessness and approached the hole to the outside world. He could see a dingey kitchen floor and his heart sank. A small thud hit the ground and Peppino looked around, no clones....

"Oh! Down-a here! Or well, over here..." The stranger chuckled.

Peppino frantically looked around and locked eyes with the speaker, a smaller gentleman even smaller than him! Up to his chest was a portly man with a long tail and giant ears, his ears looked to be a mix between an elf and a rat. Was he... A rat person?

"U-um.... Hello?.. Two questions. Who are you? And... WHY DID YOU SCARE ME LIKE THAT?!"

The man scratched his head, "Right, my-a bad. I'm Gustavo! And I didn't mean to! You were supposed to stay put, maybe Brick didn't tell you....."

Peppino stared, who the fuck was Brick?

"Oh! I'm cooking something for us, I managed to find a kitchen! And it's completely empty. Kinda like this entire part of the building..."

Peppino grabbed Gustavo and tried to make a break for the wall, as he made a startling revelation. This kitchen was empty, because it was the clone's.

Gustavo held his ground however, "Woah woah woah! Food first... Then we can figure out what's wrong with you."

Peppino looked at the man like he was crazy, "I AM TOO SMALL, WE ARE IN THE KITCHEN OF A MONSTER, WE NEED TO LEAVE!"

Gustavo didn't listen, as he hummed a little tune and miraculously dragged Peppino away from the wall. Their only escape from any horrors beyond this point.

Gustavo crawled his way back up to the stove and Peppino watched him, he watched him cook.

[soo0hee]

Fallen for you

Pairing — Lee Seokmin [DK] x gn!Reader

Summary — You weren't happy about having to go Ice Skating knowing very well that you were not good at it, but maybe it was just what you needed to get your man

Genre — fluff, friends to lovers au

Warnings — tension, first kiss

Word Count — 0.8k

Rating — sfw 🍵

A/N — Here comes your Secret Santa with your gift @lovetaroandtaemin , i hope you like it!✨️

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

„I will fall.“ You deadpanned unimpressed when you stared at Seungkwan who held up the Skates for you to take.

“I will. Fall.” You said again, you words almost like a promise for the future but your friend yet again waved your concern of to force the skates into your hands

Not entirely sure how you had gotten roped into Ice Skating with your friends when you loathed the cold with your entire being, but somehow there you stood. Wrapped in your winter coat, a scarf so big you could use it as a blanket around your neck and a hat with cat ears that Seungkwan had gifted you the year before placed on your head.

The worst thing wasn’t even the cold or that you would surely fall flat on your face as soon as you would step on the ice, no. It was that you would do all that not just in front of your friends but also in front of the one guy you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front off. Seokmin wouldn’t laugh at you, that you were sure off. But you’d still rather roll over dead then stalking around like a new born fawn learning to walk.

But knowing your friends, they would not let you just stand at the side and watch them so you accepted defeat. (More or less at least)

“I WILL FALL, BOO SEUNGKWAN!” You tried one last time, now sitting on one of the benches that were provided to slip the skates on and not daring to move a muscle.

You could hear them snicker at you, most of them already cruising around the frozen surface and kindly flipped them off. Jun gave you one right back with a bright smile which earned him a tongue stuck out at him.

Seungkwan rolled his eyes.

“Come on y/n! The ice will have melted by the time you get on it…”

Asshole.

“Aish Dkkkk, get her on here already….”

You would kill him.

The blond boy would die at your own hands sooner rather then later!

Wanting to wipe the shit eating grin off his face when Seokmin did in fact listen to him and came to the barricade of the rink where you were still sitting in your internal panic that you prayed to god, did not show on your face.

“I don’t want to…” you pouted up at him but only received a shake of his head with that dazzling smile on his face that always left you star struck. You watched in defeat how he Seokmin stepped of the ice to bend down, take your hands in his and pull you to your feet.

“Come now, I’ll help you.” He snickered at your reluctance.

“But Kyeom-ah–“

“Just keep holding my hands. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

His words had your cheeks heating tremendously but they shut you up and you followed his lead onto the ice.

The first step already proved to be quite the struggle as you quickly lost your footing upon contact with the frozen water.

Seokmin, slowly gliding backwards never let go.

“Just trust me.”

He guided you further along, preventing you from falling with every step you took while gentle praises for staying upright rained down on you. It made you blend out Seungkwan, Jun, Vernon and Gyu almost entirely. Eyes solely set on him just like his were on you.

“Take one step after the other, slowly. We have time so we don’t need to rush anything. One and two and one and two…”

You shivered, this time not because of the cold.

Following his instructions it was like you were in trance. Completely absorbed and concentrated you bit your lips, not noticing the way Seokmin’s eyes flickered down and neither did you notice how it affected him.

The man almost melted at the sight.

“Just like that and just keep your balance.”

“Isn’t that what I got you for?” you questioned shakily when your knees buckled.

Vernon, leaning against the barricade with the boys shook his head at the two of you.

“God how obvious can these two be?”

Jun and Seungkwan snorted at his words.

They watched the spectacle and how their friend carefully loosened his grip on you. Watched how you panicked, slingered and toppled down to the icy floor, pulling Seokmin right on top of you. They didn’t see how in the split of a second your lips suddenly touched his nor did they hear how you stuttered out a hasty apology that Seokmin simply ignored in favor of properly kissing you again.

The boys watching had to pick their jaws up from the floor at the sight.

“What even-“ Jun cursed with wide eyes.

Wide eyes that mirrored yours own.

“Don’t apologize. You have no idea how long I wanted to do this, so don’t say you are sorry because I’m not.”

“I told him I would fall.” You whispered into the space between your faces.

“For me too?” he asked tilting his head gently with a smile that almost blinded you.

“For you I have fallen ages ago.”

[gemsofthegalaxy]

i don't actually watch critical role in the first place but im really really torn on how i think things are gonna shake out

on the one hand, two weeks ago Wizards' themselves claimed that they'd already struck deals with the "less than 20 creators making over $750,000 on dnd related products" and, according to my partner, CR is already pretty in bed with wizards considering how much sponsorship money they must get from dnd beyond

however. idk. i could see matt mercer releasing his own game system that's legally distinct enough from dnd if he wanted to. lol. and i think quite a lot of fans really are fans of them rather than the game dnd (though, i guess they do have a lot of rules lawyers in the crowd and if they did switch to a Matt-created system i'm not sure how those fans who are really invested in dnd rules would react i guess)

and i really, really don't know how things are gonna work out for D20, not to mention "Capitalism is the real villain" Brennan Lee Mulligan, because i know Dropout is already not the most profitable company in the world right now..... and not all their revenue comes from their dnd-related property but a good deal of it does.

however.

i've been wondering this whole time, when it comes to "live play" content, if they'd be able to change monster and spell names and then have it be fair use...?

Because, y'know, it's not like they're sitting there explaining the rules each session and they could reduce the amount they talk about the rules if they really had to. They already create their own campaign settings. I know youtubers talk a lot about the nebulous "you can show 10% of a media when discussing, commentating, or otherwise transforming it", and Wizards cannot copyright game mechanics like rolling dice or "checks", so even if they had to swap words out just to obscure and keep it under the 10% threshold, would they maybe be fine?

I've seen a lot of people talk about this, but "Fair use" doesn't get mentioned nearly as much as the OGL and occasionally Wizards' Fan-content policy (which is horseshit, look it up)

I'm both disheartened and frustrated but also just like, straight up curious as to what's going to happen because it seems very up in the air to me rn

[malrie]

tldr: ummm we never will see how strong the demigods get bc according to lore they’ll be even stronger in adulthood

aka a very long piper charmspeak ramble …… it’s come to this.

one thing my suspension of belief has worked hard day and night fighting for years is the fact that demigods in pjo attract monsters especially when young because they’re weak enough to be prey to them. fine. that’s ok. but something also that is true is that piper & leo both grew up to age 15 which even hedge mentioned was extraordinarily old already for demigods not to have been disturbed (hera’s hold on leo aside) kind of means monsters scented them to be extremely strong even w/o training or awareness, something that never even happened to any other demigod. that is ok too, they’re part of the seven whatever.

secondary to this is the fact that when demigods grow up, specially greek, they leave camp to try to live their own lives in the mortal world and can do so freely bc it’s implied they are strong enough monsters leave them alone/can fend for themselves. notably all done solo - ignoring the random crack celebs mentioned in demigod diaries. that is also fine. who cares. there are allegedly grown up/possibly elderly demigods (not legacies) in new rome. we don’t know them. ok.

EXCEPT this just opens up the door to the other implication that a demigod’s growth over time never really plateaus until much later in their years - meaning the kids in hoo now in teen years are nothing compared to their powers when they’re actual adults. and we won’t ever really see how the powers will develop.

since the seven are already above and beyond the cream of the crop in terms of abilities, what comes next has to be refinement (been a sec since reading hoo so ignore if these have been explored already lol): leo being able to control fire outside of his own body - which goes for other elemental-control types like percy with his water (do not mention bloodbending to me ummm copyright..) or jason (rip) with his lightning.

there are loads of reasons why nico & hazel within lore and also past canon can’t just cheat death but still so much within their death-related power can be pretty flexible. hazel earthbender metalbender truther btw. reyna’s power strengthening probably gets even crazier too. annabeth… love u baby girl go be megamind and be free.. frank can turn into a dragon. um that itself was crazy ig but i just can’t think of the furthering of shapeshifting so im gonna be quiet on him.

and let me SAY SOMETHINGGGGG. this is a piper mclean “joining the war on piper on the side of piper” blog. okay. but consider the fact that she CAN charm monsters and minor gods/sorceresses (medea specifically) and obviously the biggest contender being a whole titan. all before the age of 17.

i read the burning maze only ofc lol and one thing that struck me was that at that point in the narrative shes been charmspeaking for maybe 1 year?? max? and there was the one scene where she used charmspeak on 3 grown men before they went on caligula’s boats and she sort of half-fainted because she wasn’t used to doing that many people. and additionally this is a sometime after gaea. so where is the meter of growth here?

her power is not an elemental one (percy, leo, nico) or self-affected (frank, annabeth). funnily enough it might be closer to reyna, whose powers affect other people (can she power up herself??) and maybe a magical one that’s pretty freestyle like hypnos/hecate. but those seem to have guidelines and levels of known power too.

this is all coming from me just having reread the very first scene in mark of athena where piper was practicing her words to the roman’s and annabeth, just overhearing a little, felt compelled already. piper can control her power/enhance it, but isn’t shown in canon to even think if it affects others in her vicinity. also maybe doesn’t even know the depth of the effect.

past the age of 18, when a greek demigod is implied to move out bc they’re strong enough already not to need protection, piper would have evolved her charmspeak past all her past feats already. with the others, their limits seem pretty clear. hers isn’t?

here are the rules i feel like she has in canon: she can’t command inanimate objects or things/beings that can’t hear her period. huge crowds like the scene in new rome (brick jason scene) were difficult to control. but again, she can compel more than three mortals as of the maze book. so if with age she could charmspeak to a larger masses that would be pretty believable, even if difficult. say that she can’t make someone do something out of their own power, like asking a mortal to do a demigod feat. it still leaves a lot of open room there.

so even theoretically, she can touch a lot of realms of power here, not even in the vaguer way a hecate kid might. can she compel river gods/naiads into moving water for her? other elements with spiritual reps? can she ask the dead to come back to life? is that even in her scope? she wouldn’t do any of these things obviously, since it flies into a moral panic a little. can she ask someone to go mad and crazy and they will? i just said she couldn’t do inanimate objects, but what if that only excluded inorganic matter? can she ask a seed to sprout?

i say ask but she never has to ask. she just needs to speak. now imagine that at her peak ability.

if she can barely control charmspeak slipping out when she was a teen in the hoo books, I genuinely don’t know how she can walk around as an adult without anyone hanging onto every single word she says. or maybe bc she’s older she can control it much better, but it still implies refinement on a scale she never grasped canonically.

ignoring the greco-roman tragedy that is the tlh trio, writing her out of the narrative (and concurrently out of the world of demigods) like riordan did is kinda crazy because you’re just gonna let a charmspeaker run around like that?? haven’t you watched gen v….. oh wait.

i don’t want a time skip in riordan’s 84th random ass spin-off series that’s not what im saying at all.. I just want to speculate on my own.

piper is lucky enough to be surrounded with masses of people who love her, so she isn’t ever in danger of ever becoming an antagonist. remember how even hazel gets mad at jason’s coffin when he dies and “leaves piper”? or annabeth’s first thought when jason dies is how sad she is for piper. mellie & hedge also choose to move with her. the list goes on. she is a top priority.

what really strikes me in how we last see piper is that she has a support system enough to be satiated to never need to come back again to the demigod world. jason got cremated in new rome and she wasn’t at the funeral. leo is off god knows where. she’s close with annabeth, but they don’t have to be at either camps to be close.

what im getting at here is how much of piper’s relationships with people and their protectiveness over her is her power spilling out versus real connection. that is so nasty of me to bring up ofc bc piper is theeee girl and all but imagining the fallout of her realizing something to the effect of her influencing people very close to her without her knowing.. she could retreat further. that’s fully speculation though. no need to panic..

conclusion: piper’s powers hadn’t reached its peak in canon and may never have a real cap to her abilities unless there’s extensive trial and error well into her adulthood. no matter the outcome, she may not even want anything to do with the demigod world anyway.

disclaimer: mentioned some canonical rules here but also haven’t reread the entire hoo series in many many years I might be offbeat and wrong. ooopssss..

sorry if u read all this I can’t give you your time back. i am writing something abt this though. or sorry again if that turns out to be a lie cuz I don’t post it. well.

[schismusic]

The Discography Principle - Prologue, or: "All My Homies Hate Dividing by Zero"

The discography principle may be defined as an objective way to determine whether or not you're worthy of calling a band or artist "your favorite" or "one of your favorites". A possible enunciation of it goes as follows:

"Let u ≝ some asshole, B ≝ {b|b is a band}, n ≝ #({x|x is a record by b}); let p = #({y|y is a record by b in u's possession}) = p1 + p2 wherein p1 ≝ number of physical records by b you own in any format and p2 ≝ number of records by b you have downloaded. If p ≥ n ∨ p2 = n (for n → +∞), then ∃b∈B such that b is one of u's favorite bands."

When u = me, this subset of B (which we might call Bf) is comprised of six bands, off the top of my head: Autechre, Godflesh, Shellac, Kraftwerk, Fugazi and Coil, listed in no particular order.

To download a record, especially in high-quality formats, is no small thing because - in an era of 24/7 online access to all sorts of music, provided you know where to look for it - it takes commitment. Regardless of whether or not you actually get to listen to a particular record, it's safe to assume that you would never work your way through Soulseek or Sophie's Floorboard or Systems of Romance or what have you to get all the others if you haven't already listened to (and loved) enough of their stuff to know that yes, it is worth the effort and the gigabytes (and the money, if you know about Bandcamp and you're so inclined. I am so inclined, most of the time; unfortunately, my finances usually don't agree with me). To buy a record is relatively easy: Soulseek is a bitch to set up, MediaFire and MEGA can backfire (no pun intended) horribly and leave you hanging when the link is inevitably copyright-struck, or give you a digital STD in particularly unfortunate cases. Anyway, downloading a whole discography potentially gives you a veritable goldmine of stuff that you are, at this point, left to your own devices to explore at your earliest convenience, whatever that may be, and provided you walk around with you HDD constantly on you - there's no way in hell you're ever fitting that stuff on your phone, I don't believe you, fuck you. Six bands are more than enough to smoke your memory space completely, trust me.

Anyway, the more perceptive among you might have noticed (as usual in many of my posts: like Twin Peaks does with Laura Palmer - and, later, Dale Cooper - I thrive in dancing around the space where something is evidently missing, and gesture very obviously to what should be there but isn't) a pretty big elephant in the room which is time to address.

If we define Bf(u) ≝ {Autechre; Coil; Fugazi; Godflesh; Kraftwerk; Shellac}, some of you OGs might remember there's at least one obvious element number zero that's missing here. Let's talk about it right away.

Element #0: SWANS

Like every annoying music rat bastard on the Internet, my ever-growing and (once) wide choice of band shirts includes a Swans t-shirt. Specifically, I have a Filth album cover t-shirt, because it stands as one of the most accurate and starkly beautiful album covers of all time. A discarded X-ray photograph of some patient's admittedly very nicely-kept teeth, kept bare by a dentist's mechanical contraption has become the official insignia for everything grimy, sludgy, fucked up, antihuman, urban-in-the-uncomfortable-way in Swans' music. Early Swans truly had a magic that is hard to replicate to this day (to this day I believe only one band might actually have made it if to a smaller extent, and they're featured later on this list precisely because they chose to leave that behind at one point) and it resides in the absolute absence of magic that transpires from their music: it's so stark, bare-boned and brutal in a profoundly dehumanizing way that it really leaves nothing left of who made it, or so it would seem.

Unfortunately, Swans being horrifying testaments to humanity's curse of resilience lasted relatively little, specifically about ten years if we wanna stretch it all the way to Soundtracks for the Blind - but I would argue that stuff had already given way by the time The Great Annihilator dropped in 1995. As a disclaimer, The Great Annihilator and Swans Are Dead are actually great and Soundtracks for the Blind is an extremely compelling snapshot of things that Swans were and/or could have been, just so we're all on the same page. But I guess most will agree when I say that while The Seer and To Be Kind are pretty good in their own, entirely different way, The Glowing Man began showing signs of wear and tear in the formula that they seem to have been unable to leave behind even when leaving meaning dropped, to a point where I listened to like five minutes of The Beggar before giving up, possibly forever, on the idea of modern Swans being somehow relevant. It's mostly a case of common over-exposure, plain and simple. I had a friend who simply could never listen to the Doors because he'd basically worn the records out by the time he was 16 and even hearing one note of any song of theirs sent him into a fucked up blathering rage.

Ironically enough what got Swans fucked was this tension to imbue themselves with psychedelic techniques and therefore moving into "becoming the new Doors" or - like a Tumblr post I read back in 2016 said - turning into "a batshit insane King Crimson". Not even discussing how frankly debatable this description is, it does turn out to be pretty useful, because it very directly leads us to:

Element #0, again: KING CRIMSON (hear me out folks, this is not what it looks like)

First things first: Robert Fripp is my favorite guitarist of all time and his and Adrian Belew's guitar styles on Discipline remain among the most influential things I have ever heard to me. I only have one guitarist in my current band (and that would be me) but I have never stopped attempting to replicate the dizzying guitar figures that Fripp and Belew intertwine, counterphase, overlap. One could even argue that the lack of intertwining, counterphasing and overlapping guitar parts is in itself a distinctive feature of my guitar style, in that I force myself into a dichotomy: giving the track body, oomph, presence versus making the part spidery, nimble, unsafe to walk over.

Anyway, put it simply, too many people like King Crimson here, and worst of all too many people like them for the right reasons. You don't have a Oneohtrix Point Never situation wherein a shitton of people think Age of and Magic Oneohtrix Point Never are "masterpieces" in lieu of "perfectly serviceable electronic art-pop records that scratch the mid-period Arca itch without you having to bust out Arca's 2017 self-titled from the recesses of your memory (both objectivized into digital information and embodied within your brain's storage)". As a side note, Arca's 2017 album may stand as her best full-length altogether, on par with Xen, but since y'all are too busy thinking the KiCK series did anything new or interesting with it, that is clearly a conversation we are not ready for.

The right reasons to like King Crimson are, to be fair, very visible: they are in just about all of their incarnations a great band with lineups consistently featuring great musical performers, stylish wordsmiths and adequate-to-excellent singers/songwriters who produce an output exclusively comprised of records at the very least pleasantly (?) listenable and at the very best life-changing and/or history-altering. Unfortunately that exact problem makes it very easy to be overexposed to their stuff: see the borderline cult that has emerged around In the Court of the Crimson King in people who, sometimes, aren't even that interested in music per se and just sort of stumbled across it via JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. Both JoJo's and In the Court I love, rationally, but it has become very hard for me to listen to that part of their discography that's already somewhat sedimented in the public consciousness because you simply hear nothing new, nothing different come out in the discussion of it - if there even is discussion left to do on the matter.

Anyway, both Swans and King Crimson suffer from the same issue to me, i.e. as I said to Dog the other night "I did not gatekeep them enough". Quite the opposite, actually: I spread them around like wildfire and linked the shit out of (what little, at the time, could be found of) their music to any and everyone and it feels absolutely wrong in retrospect. It's obvious that the high school kid who exclusively likes rock music from the '70s and believes Pink Floyd is the pinnacle of recorded history would vibe with a record like To Be Kind which essentially does nothing but weaponise those referents. And both bands' juiciest bits get ignored in favor of a couple moments which may be good or even great, but by now have become essentially sterile. "Dai diamanti non nasce niente…". Most of the bands I actually will discuss over the other parts of this series, on the other hand, have something in common: basically no one I've ever shown them too vibe with them the same way that I do, they don't feel their music deep within their heart of hearts, sometimes they don't even care to give it an actual fair shot.

A number of them also have another thing in common: they didn't immediately click, but in a way they did. When I first listened to (just to name names) Oversteps, or 13 Songs, I was like "this could be awesome" and yet never quite got to the end of the record right away. It was always closer to "eh, I'll check this out later when I'm more attentive" and yet I didn't until I very consciously brought myself to do it, smacking my head against the side of those records or maybe picking a different record from that same artist until all of a sudden I finally got it. Conscious choice makes these bands feel more rewarding. As much as I love, I don't know, the Mars Volta or Aphex Twin, I never felt that I was making an intellectual or even just conscious attempt at getting into them - and discography size doesn't count, it's not a factor as we've already previously discussed, unless it is (i.e. a band has three records out, like for instance Nirvana, whom I really like, too) - whereas it was always more of a really natural thing, as natural as putting my headphones on and vibing. Simple as.

Not all music should be a slog to get through, but by the same logic not all music should be mindless or mindlessly listened to and appreciated. And I tend to favor music that rewards multiple listens, which by nature are never gonna be always as attentive or active as they would be ideally, but it still gives you something to think of, and it's not just background noise even when you want it to be (see Coil's drone records). I will try to detail my relationship with these six bands that I have isolated, trying to stay on topic and not swerve too hard into autobiography, over the course of I suppose an entry each (worst that could happen, two bands might be crushed into the same post like what happened today, if I feel like it makes sense to do so from the standpoint of themes and length).

Re-reading the post after being done with it, I just realized both numbers 0 have one thing in common: they are, or could be seen as, almost an extended solo project of their respective de facto leaders, despite what the two of them have to say. The same could potentially be said of a couple of the bands I've mentioned up above, but I will try to prove that that is very much not the case if we don't impose a very capitalistic/brand-oriented logic that I think is fundamentally at odds with at least three of those six names. I could careen into an autobiographical story specifically about this, but I believe it'd be best kept for one of these other articles. Until then, I will be writing these when I get around to it, no pressure, no big deal.

The idea is as follows: one piece per element in the Bf set, no regular times or days for it. I do it when I want/can, or when something good comes out of me. Deal?