#if i cross-read platforms then it might get a little tricky

[mania-sama]

starting january 2025, i think i’m gonna start tracking all of the fanfics i’ve read every month. i think it’d be fun to see how many words i rack up, what tags / fandoms / pairings i frequent the most, etc. and then i might do i like a fic rec post on here where i present the fics that i enjoyed the most or something.

it’s something i’ve been meaning to do for months now, so i might do a prelimary trial for december. i personally think my reading tastebuds are SUPERIOR so therefor i must bless my followers (there are 80 of you now!! wow!!)

(idea mainly from @flyingwargle; i love seeing your fic recs on my for you screen. i usually always end up reading one because your miya twins recs are SCRUMPTIOUS)

the only problem with this is that i do not know how to work google sheets very well so like 😭 if anyone has a better way to keep track using a spreadsheet platform, lemme know. i could always handwrite it as well, or do a hybrid of both online and handwritten

[ask-rp-devra]

The night was short, the pair were able to sleep a good 8 hours before getting ready the next morning to set off towards the train station. The pair decided to come back through to pick up the Pokemon to bring back to the island before heading home, but for now they could stay behind with Devra’s mom, just for a little while longer. The only team members that went with them were coal, the little hybrid houndoomxarcanine pup, and Aliza, who had taken a shine to the ponyta gifted to Peach, they seemed to play well together, even Dreepy liked her. With bags gathered, goodbyes said, and tickets bought, the pair stepped onto the train, waving off Olivia who came to see her daughter go, and off they went, towards the new Galarian island, the Crown Tundra.

Devra settled into her seat, waving goodbye to her mom as Coal jumped up in the seat next to her. He was small enough to be on the train, but Aliza had to stay in her pokeball for the time being. She looked over at her friend and smiled. “I hope you slept alright. I always thought the guest room bed was too hard.”

“‘you saw me right? I was asleep in an aeroplane chair sitting up right, the bed was just fine. Much better than most of the places I sleep while away from the lab.” She recalled a few occasions being able to just about catch an hours rest while being trapped in a tree by aggressive Pokemon. “it was a warm, dry bed, with actual sheets and a roof over me haha. It was great.” She mindlessly petted Val, ordering a good coffee off the trolley that passed by, a sweet little wigglytuff in the train companies uniform asking for payment. She got her wallet out...or so she thought? Her hand reached into her bag, and hit something very cold and very smooth, reeling from the weird texture. Val sniggered to herself, shifting to the empty seat the bag sat on, to peer inside.

“I think we have a stow away.” Peach murmured, carefully opening the bag much wider than needed to get a good look. “‘Dreepy?” Inside was the little ghost type, she swore while waving to Devra’s mother at the station when they left, she had also spotted this Pokemon amongst others that had come to see the trainers off. He was wrapped up in one of Peach’s shirts, and seemed a little nervous about being caught in her stuff.

Devra looked over at Peach from her camera, having been looking th right some pictures. “Dreepy? He’s here? But I saw him with my mom. Here, I took a picture of the group when we left.” She held the camera so they could both look. “Oh....well. I thought he was in the picture.” She looked at the little Pokémon and sighed. “I guess he really wanted to come with you.”

“well, it’s fine with me, if he wants to come then I guess we’ve got a new team member.” She smiled a little at the Pokemon and let him and Val go and pick some snacks off the trolley before paying. She gave eyes at her steadfast fire type while Dreepy’s back was turned, asking without words for her to tone her usual disinterest down by like 20%, and she began chattering to the ghost Pokemon as she selected a strawberry filled dumpling thing in a wrapper. With the stern silence broken between the two, peach could relax a little, perhaps they two would be fine together for the trip.

“You’re right though, I swear I saw him on the platform too.” She glanced at the screen on the camera, seeing no signs of him. “‘how strange. You’re faster than you look hey bud?” Dreepy seemed quite proud of the compliment, and finally chose a chocolate-orange flavoured pastry twist before returning to the open bag to snack. “I’m buying, you and your team want anything?”

Devra nodded to Coal, who bounced over and happily started sniffing around until he found a pumpkin muffin. She then grabbed an apple cake and raspberry pastry for her other two team members before sitting back down. “I don’t need anything. Mom made sure I left full.” She laughed and opened Coal’s treat for him. “Tell Peach thank you young man.” The little pup barked happily as me bounced over to her for pets.

“she’s a good mom that one, I bet she’d enjoy a little holiday in johto, lots to see, I can hook you both up with some fun things to do for sure.” There was plenty of art galleries, heritage sites, and excellent restaurants throughout the region, not to mention live music, public gardens of great beauty, and a butt load of areas to sightsee in. Peach paid up and petted Coal, she was very glad to see him in capable hands, he took to Devra like a Ducklett to water, and she was confident he’d grow fast now he was out exploring with her. The Dreepy seemed to peep its eyes out at the hybrid Pokemon, still nibbling away on its snack.

Coal bounced back up next to Devra and started to munch on his treat. “I’m sure she’ll love the trip.” She looked out the window, watching the countryside roll by. “What’s the first thing you want to do once we get to the tundra?”

The professor sipped her hot drink, also enjoying the windows view. “hm, that’s a good question. I suppose I’d really like to find a place to stay, I’d normally not mind camping but I see the name ‘Crown TUNDRA’ and feel like I wouldn’t want to stay over night outside as much. What about you? You’ll be knees deep in herd Pokemon in no time I bet, anything else you’d want to check out?” The little Dreepy had snuck closer to the window to look out, still nibbling.

“Well, there is this big ruin building with a massive old dead tree that’s I’d love to see. But it’s at the top of one of the mountains here. So it might be tricky getting to.” She mindlessly pet Coal as she slowly started seeing snow. “And I think there’s a small town that we could ask about lodging at. Day trips to the tundra and back by dark?”

“‘oh I do love a tree, that sounds interesting, you could always try to find a Pokemon who could get you up that mountain a bit easier?” Peach had planned to do just that, the cold sneaking in, she could feel her bad knee aching ever so slightly already, and almost exactly after that thought crossed her mind, Val crept over to radiate heat, sitting in her lap, easing the dull pain.

“perhaps we can camp out some of the time, it’d be nice to see what happens at night, what Pokemon come out, just perhaps not in any heavy weather if it can be avoided. I did take a look online, the village there is usually pretty open to travellers, think I noticed a B&B or two with vacancies posted, I’m sure we’ll find somewhere to stay.” By this point, the views had turned pure white, in the fields you could see grazing Pokemon, a herd of wooloo who almost blending in with the surroundings.

Devra spotter the wooloo right away, fawning over one of her favorite Pokémon. Coal picked up on his trainer’s excitement, his tail wagging happily as she told him what snow was like. “Oh I can’t wait to see Aliza’s face when she sees her first snow!”

“thats right, she’s not even seen a December yet, or a snowy route. Good thing you got your camera then isn’t it, I’m sure mom and pop would like to see her first experience with it, you know Cole hasn’t seen snow either before. Bet he’s real excited about now.” The pup must have felt something, seeing all this white for the first time. “‘what about you Dreepy, you seen snow before?” The little ghost type looked back, didn’t turn its body at all, but bent it’s neck fully back to look at the Professor upside down, giving no clear answer, which to her seemed like a big fat no, but perhaps he was a little shy about answering right away. “no matter, we’ll soon be in the thick of it.”

She giggled at the sight of the little dreepy. “He’s seen some light snow before. I caught him in the wild area. The weather there is always so weird. But he hasn’t seen this much before. This is going to be a big busy day.” She snapped a quiet picture of dreepy being cute, then one of Coal barking at the snow through the window.

The train began to turn a final corner, the tannoy alerting passengers to the upcoming station, the only stop on the journey coming up very soon.

“looks like we’re nearly there, ready to get going?” The trip had been only short, but outside it looked like a completely different region, so much snow and ice everywhere, nothing but pine trees. The woman grabbed her bags, not before waiting for the little Dreepy to return to the inside where it wrapped up in the spare clothes to keep warm. Val took to her shoulder as she usually did.

Devra nodded, standing up to gather her things. She then picked up Coal, holding his stout body in her arms to keep him from running of into the snow. “We’re ready. I’m so excited to see this area. I’ve read about it but they took forever to get it safe enough for more visitors.”

Safe enough wasn’t always entirely foolproof, and Peach was quietly happy she packed a first aid kit. She had heard some murmurs it was a little risky here, a lot of tough Pokemon roamed about.

“I hope you’re right, I’m sure the locals wouldn’t put people at risk.” The pair stepped off the train once the doors pinged open, the brisk cold air swept past, pulling them all out onto the platform. People came and went, and before long they became aware of the exits and where to head to next.

Devra took a slight lead of the two, following signs towards the little town. “Well, they did give all of us coming here a safety talk too. I just hope trainers actually listen. You gotta be smart about this place.” She then set Coal down and let the little guy run circles around the two humans. “I think I’ll wait to let Aliza our until we’re settled.”

With the pup thoroughly enjoying the snow, the trainers paused to check their phones, a map was needed for a moment, before they began to hear some loud ruckus just outside to the right of the station, sounded like a man and a young woman, peach didn’t even register it much, turning her back to the noise almost instinctually, trying to figure out which way to go. Val however was being nosey and sat on her shoulder judging the people making all the noise pretty hard from the look on her face.

“I think you’re right, we should find somewhere to stay before we really go out on a wild adventure.”

She nodded, looking at her own map on her Rotom phone, thanking the Pokémon inside for his help. “It looks like we head on that way.” She pointed to the road as it took a slight left turn. “Shouldn’t be more than a 20 minute walk.”

“‘sounds good to me, wonder what Pokemon we might see on the way?” Pocketing the phone and hoisting her bag up a bit, Peach began to take a few steps, noticing the pair who were making such noise earlier, avoiding them entirely, they seemed to be having a dad-daughter tiff that was no ones business. Onward, to the first route of the Crown Tundra!

Devra took a glance at the arguing people and sighed, hoping the wouldn’t bother her or the Professor. Coal bounded ahead as they walked, but kept in his trainer’s sight. “It’s really pretty here. Just look at all the ice on these pine needles!” She crunched her way to a tree and found an angle to catch light in the ice.

[kitty0boy]

Y’all know what time it is. I know it’s past April fools day but I’ll be damned if I don’t write some for it. And knowing my sleep deprived Marichat obsessed ass, you know it’s gonna be Marichat.

—————————————

It was April fools day, and everyone knew it was Chat Noir’s favourite. Well they didn’t know for sure but he seemed to be out and about more than usual every year on April first. And nobody was complaining. His practical jokes were always light hearted and fun, purrhaps if he did this everyday, no one would be akumatized. The streets where each prank took place was filled with laughter and excitement at seeing the hero in person. He was happier too, seeing everyone smile and hearing them laugh was his favourite part of the day.

Unfurrtuately Adrien was scheduled to have a photo shoot that same day, and in an act of rebellion, decided to prank his father by hiding from him all day and occasionally he detransformed and took pictures of himself in different locations before retransforming and taking off again. He would scroll through the comments on each post and he his school friends cheering him on. He just hoped that Gabriel didn’t punish him too harshly for this, then again he wouldn’t let that stop him from living normally. What was he gonna do anyway, take his miraculous? If a super villain whose been hunting it down for 4 years can’t take it, there’s no way his father could.

For his final act of the day he had something special planned. It had been set up, waiting for them all day. He just had to go pick her up in the most Foolish way possible. And what’s more foolish than a clown costume? Nothing, the answer is nothing. So dawning the oversized shoes, the baggy polka dot pants, the large white collar, and the red wig. He set off to François DuPont Highschool.

She was at the front entrance, talking to Alya. Neither of them were wearing their usual outfits though and their hair was soaked. Kim had mentioned something about water balloon so he’d just assumed that was the cause. Instead Marinette wore a cute dark brown button up sundress with a pastel green dress shirt underneath. Accompanied by some simple platform boots. Her wet hair fell into light curls that brushed her shoulders when she laughed. He guessed that she’d caught word of Kim’s endeavours and brought a change of clothes, or maybe she brought them just in case.

Puffing up his chest and holding his head high, he waddled over in his giant red shoes that squeaked with each step. Did he almost trip and fall, yes a few times. Did he adopt a wider stance as a result, yes, yes he did. By the time he’d gotten to Marinette he was the same height as her while he scuttled like a crab behind her. Alya had taken notice a long time ago and struggled to stifle her laugh, she knew he wanted it to be a surprise and oh boy was it. He pulled a little horn out of his pocket, the ones with the rubber ball end that you have to squeeze to get the sound out. He pinched it and she flew into the air and nearly tripped on his shoes but he caught her before she could hit the ground. Alya burst out laughing, nearly falling to the ground. “Oh my god,” she said between cackles. “That was amazing.” Marinette started laughing too, “Chat you scared me.” She giggled. Step one complete, onto step two.

He took a few steps back, each squeak of his shoes making the girls laugh louder. It took Marinette a minute to compose herself when she turned to face him. He took a pink rose out of his belt and held it out to Marinette in a bow. A few gasps were heard from the top of the staircase as more students came out only to witness a cat clown giving a pretty girl a rose. She took it carefully and inspected it from a distance before deciding that there was nothing tricky about it. He pointed to it and she spun it around in her hands a few times before finding what he wanted her to find. Written on the outside petals was a message for her, only two words. “Brace yourself?” She read aloud before he slung her over his shoulder (ensuring that she skirt was covering her of course) and ran off with her. The red wig flying off his head. In their journey he spotted a very angry Lila Rossi, what a lovely bonus.

“Chat! Hey put me down!” Marinette laughed over his shoulder. Before they really got moving she’d propped herself up and wrapped her arms around his neck so that she wasn’t completely slung over his shoulder. Which he was glad for, he didn’t want her to get dizzy, just wanted to take her on a fun run across the roof tops of Paris. Of course there was a destination though, and it was waiting just across the street. In one final leap, they’d arrived at Le Pont des Art with its many lockets reflecting the sunlight. Reached up and grabbed her waist with both hands before lowering her to the ground.

“And what are we doing here?” She asked crossing her arms. “I thought we could go for a little, catwalk. See that we can find in the lockets.” He pointed. ‘Please take the hint’ he thought, and thankfully she did. “What did you hide here kitty?” She teased before turning towards the fence. “You’ll see, but if you want to find it, I’d suggest looking in the section.” He gestured to a square section of locks while she turned to look through them. Occasionally she would hold one that had familiar names on them. Exclaiming, “Hey I know them! They live across the street.” or something along those lines. Until her eyes fell on the lock he was waiting for. It was the only one that was unlocked on the bridge. “Maman et Papa’s lock.” She said. She tentatively cradled the lock in her hands before running her thumb across the initials engrave into it. “Hey wait, why isn’t it locked?” In her realization she turned around and glared at Chat, he was in the middle of taking off the baggy pants and he froze, holding his hands up in surrender. “They said it was ok, you know since they’re taking all the locks off anyways.” She didn’t seem convinced. “They asked if we could take it back home to them and besides, I only broken the lock mechanism.” Her gaze softened and she unhooked to lock from the fence. Keeping her eyes fixed on it, she walked over to Chat and sat beside him on the bench. “How did you find it? There’s hundreds of locks on the bridge.” “Simple, they showed me.” He explained. “They still knew where it was?” She asked, he wasn’t sure how they remembered either honestly, but “I have a feeling that, they put it on the fence on a special day. Maybe they even came back to see it a few times.” She let out a small gasp beside him as she rubbed her finger along the back of the metal. She turned it over only to find a small “MDC” craved on the back. “I guess we know when the put it on the fence then.” He couldn’t see her face, but he felt her smiling, and when she turned her head towards him, the purest light danced in her eyes. He smiled at her and he smiled back.

“Now then, I do have a lock if you want to use it.” He stated as he rummaged in his pocket. “Wait really?” She perked up, looking around to the hand in his pocket, watching as her pulled out a silver locket with an engraved design of vines swirling around the edge. “Oh wow Chat it’s beautiful.” She said reaching out for it, but before she could grab it he pulled his hand back out of her reach. “Ah ah purrincess, you can’t look at anymore than this until Hawkmoth is defeated.” He told her. “Oh? And why is that?” He put the lock back into his pocket before crossing his arms. “Because it has my real first initial on it.” He stated simply. “Chat! Your superhero name would have been fine.” She lightly smacked his arm with the back of her hand. “Yeah but I wanted it to be more official, you know?” Her face turned pink, very reminiscent of her bedroom walls. “Official as in, what I think it is?” He laughed, was she really embarrassed about that? “Well not all the people that come here put locks on are a couple Marinette,” Chat turned to look out at the sun. “I’ve seen a mother a son come to put a lock on here once. They were laughing to themselves. The mom put the lock on while her kid twisted the key to lock it, then she picked him up and he threw it in the seine.” He smiled. “Do, do you know which one it was?” He looked down at Marinette, she looked so cute when she was curious. He took her hand and walked with her a little ways across before stopping and grabbing a locket in his hand. “G, E, and A Agreste. Chat I know them! That’s Adrien and his parents! Oh do you think Adrien would want his locket too?” He blinked, he hadn’t thought about it. Did he want to keep the locket? What would his father do if he found out he had it. He clearly wasn’t over Emilie, despite it being year 4 of her disappearance. “I don’t know Marinette, he might? Why don’t you try giving it to him at school tomorrow.” ‘That way I can decide if I want it or not’ he thought. “Oh but what if he thinks I’m weird, or a stalker?” He looked at her and half smirked half laughed “Why would that make him think you were a stalker?” She crossed her arms and pouted “Well me just happening to find his locket on a bridge that no one else knows about might seem a little stalkerish.” He laughed “Ok first of all, I don’t think ‘stalkerish’ is a word. Second, I don’t think he would think that of you. I mean, you’ve found a bunch of locks today. Plus, I do have fans and they happen to be amazing photographers.” She perked up, “What? Who? Where?” “Uh behind you?” He used his finger to turn her head towards a little boy with a Polaroid camera. He blushed as a picture came out the top. Marinette approached him. “Did you want a photo with Chat? I can take the picture.” He nodded and Marinette held out her hand. After giving her the camera, he walked over to Chat and he was lifted onto the hero’s shoulders. There was a little click before the picture came up. The boy hopped down and shook the picture until the image of him and Chat smiling brightly came through the plastic.

“Hey big guy,” Chat turned to him, “Mind if me and this lovely lady get a photo together while your here?” He kid nodded before holding up the camera. Getting a request from a superhero seemed to have made him so excited that he was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Marinette and Chat stepped back to get in frame and without giving her a warning, he scooped her up bridal style causing her to laugh. “Big smiles for the camera princess.” And click, the picture was taken. The boy shook the picture proudly, jumping up and down. So a quiet boy, he sure did have a lot of energy. Out of nowhere a woman came running towards the three and bent down to him. She spoke to him using sign language. ‘Oh shit was this kid deaf, had he understood a word I had said?’ The boy seemed to sense Chat’s confusion. “D-d-ont worry-y. I-I-I un-n-nderstood-d.” He said through a stammer. ‘Oh I see, some people just have an easier time speaking in ASL.’ “Oh sweet, and don’t worry,” he cut himself off, he then signed “I know sign language too.” The boy did a cute little wiggle of excitement before he hoped onto his mother’s shoulders. She stood and signed “Thank you for taking care of my son, he’s a big fan of yours.” He signed back “It was no problem, we had a little photoshoot together. Look.” He held out the pictures to her. She smiled before taking the ones of him and her son, and walking away with the big guys waving at them.

“So kitty,” Marinette piped up, “there was a rolled up paper in the lock.” He turned to her and crossed his arms. “And what does the lock say?” “I think it wants us to go to the Louvre.” She stated. “Well then purrincess,” He said, holding out his hand. “Close your eyes and hold on tight, ok?” He instructed before she was scooped up in his arms and carried towards their next destination.

This is not the end of the story! I still have more I want to write on it. But for one, It’s 3:37 am and I need my beauty sleep and two, this is already longer than what I normally write so I will be writing a second “chapter” soon. I’ll try to have it out by like, Wednesday. I’ll even figure out how to add a link to it. So stay tuned!

[whitehotharlots]

Andrea Long Chu is the sad embodiment of the contemporary left

Andrea Long Chu’s Females was published about a year ago. It was heavily hyped but landed with mostly not-so-great reviews, and while I was going to try and pitch my own review I figured there was no need. Going through my notes from that period, however, I see how much Chu’s work—and its pre-release hype—presaged the sad state of the post-Bernie, post-hope, COVID-era left. I figured they’d be worth expanding upon here, even if I’m not getting paid to do so.

Chu isn’t even 30 years old, and Females is her debut book, and yet critics were already providing her with the sort of charitable soft-handedness typically reserved for literary masters or failed female political candidates. This is striking due to the purported intensity of the book: a love letter to would-be assassin Valerie Solanas, the thesis of which is that all humans are female, and that such is true because female-ness is a sort of terminal disease stemming not from biology but from one’s inevitable subjugation in larger social contexts. Everyone is a woman because everyone suffers. Big brain shit.

But, of course, not everyone is a female. Of course. Females are females only some of the time. But, also, everyone is a female. Femaleness is just a title, see. Which means it can be selectively applied whenever and however the author chooses to apply it. The concept of “female” lies outside the realm of verifiability. Suggesting to subject it to any form of logic or other means of adjudication means you’re missing the point. Femaleness simply exists, but only sometimes, and those sometimes just so happen to be identifiable only to someone possessed with as a large a brain as Ms. Chu. We are past the need for coherence, let alone truth or honesty. And if you don’t agree that’s a sign that you are broken—fragile, illiterate, hateful, humorless.

Chu’s writing—most famously, her breakthrough essay “On Liking Women”—establishes her prose style: long, schizophrenic paragraphs crammed with unsustainable metaphors meant to prove various fuzzy theses simultaneously. Her prose seems kinda sorta provocative but only when read on a sentence-by-sentence level, with the reader disregarding any usual expectations of cohesion or connection.

This emancipation from typical writerly expectations allows Chu to wallow proudly in self-contradiction and meaninglessness. As she notes herself, explicitly, meaning isn’t the point. Meaning doesn’t even exist. It’s just, like, a feeling:

I mean, I don’t like pissing people off per se. Yes, there is a pleasure to that sometimes, sure. I think that my biggest takeaway from graduate school is that people don’t say things or believe things—they say them because it makes them feel a particular way or believing them makes them feel a particular way. I’ve become hyper aware of that, and the sense in which I’m pissing people off is more about bringing that to consciousness for the reader. The reason you’re reacting against this is not because it contradicts what you think is true, it’s because it prevents you from having the feeling that the thing you think is the truth lets you feel.

And so she can get away with saying that of course she doesn’t actually believe that everyone is a female, the same as her idol Valerie Solanas didn’t actually want to kill all men. The writers, Chu and Valerie, are just sketching out a dumb idea as a fun little larf, to see how far they can push a manifestly absurd thought. If they just so happen to shoot a gay man at point blank range and/or make broader left movements so repulsive that decent people get driven away, so be it. And if any snowflakes complain about their tactics, well that’s just proof of how right they are. Provocation is justification—the ends and the means. The fact that this makes for disastrous and harmful politics is beside the point. All that matters is that Chu gets to say what she wants to say.

This blunt rhetorical move—which is difficult to describe without sounding like I’m exaggerating or making stuff up, since it’s so insane—papers over Chu’s revanchist and violent beliefs. Her work is soaked with approving portrayals of Solanas’ eliminationist rhetoric—of course, Chu doesn’t’ actually mean it, even though she does. Men are evil, even as they don’t really fully exist since everyone is a woman, ergo eliminating men improves the world. Chu goes so far as to suggest that being a trans woman makes her a bigger feminist than Solanas or any actual woman could ever be, because the act of her transitioning led to the world containing fewer men. Again: big brain shit.

I’ll leave it to a woman to comment on the imperiousness of a trans woman insisting that she is bestest and realest kind of woman, that biological women are somehow flawed imposters. I will stress, however, that such a claim comes as a means of justifying a politically disastrous assertion that more or less fully justifies the most reactionary gender critical arguments, which regard all trans women as simply mentally ill men (this line of reasoning is so incredibly stupid that even a dullard like Rod Drehar can rebut it with ease). Trans activists have spent years establishing an understanding of transsexualism as a matter of inherent identity—whether or not you agree with that assertion, you have to admit that it has political propriety and has gone a long way in normalizing transness. Chu rejects this out of hand, embracing instead the revanchist belief that transness is attributable to taking sexual joy in finding oneself embarrassed and/or feminized—an understanding of womanhood that is simultaneously essentialist and tokenizing. When asked about the materially negative potential in expressing such a belief, Chu reacts with a usual word salad of smug self-contradiction: 

EN: You say in the book that sissy porn was formative of your coming to consciousness as a trans woman. If you hadn’t found sissy porn, do you think it’s possible that you might have just continued to suffer in the not-knowing?

ALC: That’s a really good question. It’s plausible to me that I never would have figured it out, that it would have taken longer.

EN: How does that make you feel? Is that idea scary?

ALC: It isn’t really. Maybe it should be a little bit more, but it isn’t really. One of the things about desire is that you can not want something for the first 30 years of your life and wake up one day and suddenly want it—want it as if you might as well have always wanted it. That’s the tricky thing about how desire works. When you want something, there’s a way in which you engage in a kind of revisionism, the inability to believe that you could have ever wanted anything else.

EN: People often talk about the ubiquity of online porn as a bad thing—I’ve heard from lots of girlfriends that men getting educated about sex by watching porn leads to bad sex—but there seems to me a way in which this ubiquity is helping people to understand themselves, their sexuality and their gender identity.

ALC: While I don’t have the research to back this up, I would certainly anecdotally say that sissy porn has done something in terms of modern trans identity, culture, and awareness. Of course, it’s in the long line of sexual practices like crossdressing in which cross-gender identification becomes a key factor. It’s not that all of the sudden, in 2013, there was this thing and now there are trans people. However, it is undoubted that the Internet has done something in terms of either the sudden existence of more trans people or the sudden revelation that there are more trans people than anyone knew there were. Whether it’s creation or revelation, I think everyone would agree that the internet has had an enormous impact there.

One of the things I find so fascinating about sissy porn is that it’s not just that I can hear about these trans people who live 20 states away from me and that their experiences sound like mine. There is a component of it that’s just sheer mass communication and its transformative effect, but another part of it is that the internet itself can exert a feminizing force. That is the implicit claim of sissy porn, the idea that sissy porn made me trans is also the idea that Tumblr made me trans. So, the question there is whether or not the erotic experience that became possible with the Internet actually could exert an historically unique feminizing force. I like, at least as a speculative claim, to think about how the Internet itself is feminizing.

Politics, like, don’t matter. So, like, okay, nothing I say matters? So it’s okay if I say dumb and harmful shit because, like, they’re just words, man.

Chu can’t fully embrace this sort of gradeschool nihilism, though, because if communication was truly as meaningless as she claims then any old critic could come along and tell her to shut the fuck up. Even as she claims to eschew all previously existing means of adjudicating morality and coherence, she nonetheless relies on the cheapest means of making sure she maintains a platform: validation via accreditation. This is all simple victimhood hierarchy. Anyone who does not defer all of their own perceptions to someone higher up the hierarchy is inherently incorrect, their trepidations serving to validate the beliefs of the oppressed:

I like to joke that, as someone who is always right, the last thing I want is to be agreed with. [Laughs] I think the true narcissist probably wants to be hated in order to know that she’s superior. I absolutely do court disagreement in that sense. But what I like even better are arguments that bring about a shift in terms along an axis that wasn’t previously evident. So it’s not just that other people are wrong; it’s that their wrongness exists within a system of evaluation which itself is irrelevant.

Chu has summoned the most cynical possible interpretation of Walter Ong’s suggestion that “Writing is an act of violence disguised as an act of charity.” Of course, any effective piece of communication requires some degree of persuasion, convincing a reader, listener, viewer, or user to subjugate their perceptions to those of the communicator. Chu creates—not just leans on or benefits from, but actively posits and demands fealty to—the suggestion that her voice is the only one deserving of attention by virtue of it being her own. That’s it. That’s what all her blathering and bluster amount to. Political outcomes do not matter. Honesty does not matter. What matters is her, because she is her. 

This is the inevitable result of a discourse that prizes a communicator’s embodied identity markers more than anything those communicators are attempting to communicate, and in which a statement is rendered moral or true based only upon the presence or absence of certain identity markers. Lived experience trumps all else. A large, non-passing trans woman is therefore more correct than pretty much anyone else, no matter how harmful or absurd her statements may be. She is also better than them. And smarter. And gooder.

Designating lived experience and subjective feelings of safety as the only acceptable forms of adjudication has caused the left to prize individualism to a degree that would have made Ronald Reagan blush. And this may explain the lukewarm reception of Chu’s book.

While they heaped praise upon her before the books’ release, critics backed off once they realized that Females is an embarrassingly apt reflection of intersectional leftism—a muddling, incoherent mess, utterly disconnected from any attempt toward persuasion or consensus, the product of a movement that has come to regard neurosis as insight. The deranged mewlings of a grotesque halfwit are only digestable a few pages at a time. Any more than that, and we begin to see within them far too much of the things that define our awful movement and our terrifying moment.

[wanderingcas]

hey so I saw you post a couple things about not wanting negative comments on your fics and I feel rly bad bc I think if you were vagueposting it may have been in response to the comment I left on your most recent chapter of ascend (I’ve since deleted it, though if it’s still in your inbox I’m sorry I can’t remove that as well). I did read it through before I hit submit, but after seeing what you said I went back, and can see how it could have been interpreted that way; I can tell my tone was just way off, especially for the platform. I’m autistic and have done a lot of work to improve my communication skills and convey appropriate tone, but I still bungle it up sometimes, and I’m sorry about that.

Things get messy on the internet for a variety of reasons, basic miscommunication being one, blurring of boundaries another, mismatch of expectations, etc etc; my intention was to be conversational, like wondering about a plot point not touched on, sandwiched between things I really liked about it. In retrospect I am seeing that even if that tone had been appropriately conveyed, that’s still a boundary you would prefer not to be crossed, particularly not in that setting uninvited.

Tumblr can add a layer of complexity bc of how friendly and informal and blunt so much of it is, and I think perhaps because I’ve read so much of your work and follow you here, it skewed the relationship baseline I was aiming from. For example, if I were talking to a friend about their work, I believe that tone would be less likely to cause hurt or offense, if that makes sense, or at least that has been my experience...though now that I’m thinking about it, still maybe not on a public comment platform! So again I am realizing the layers of my error here.

I’m not explaining to minimize your feelings or absolve myself of blame, but because by describing it this way I better understand what I did, where I went wrong, and how to improve going forward. I would rather be embarrassed and work through it than experience this social faux pas and be too ashamed to leave comments at all in the future. I can understand the position you have taken about not wanting negative comments, and I definitely get that you and all fic authors and other fanwork creators put in the time and effort and make yourselves vulnerable by sharing that effort for free, only hoping for some positive feedback in response.

Although I’ve definitely had good interactions with some authors over the years via comments and included some not-exclusively-positive feedback without issue, it’s wrong to assume that that is everyone’s stance. It’s absolutely every author’s prerogative to decide what types of comments to accept, and I mean that without judgment. As a non-neurotypical person (who often needs explicit statements of acceptable social behavior to adequately modulate my communication), this has reminded me that it is safer and kinder to assume that someone wants positive-only until otherwise demonstrated.

I apologize for any hurt caused by my inappropriate and badly phrased comment. Thank you for sharing your work, and for enforcing your boundary about what type of comment you’d prefer to accept.

hi, anon! just to clarify - are you the commenter that made a post about wanting more of Jack in the epilogue? Because i want to absolve you of some blame right now - I actually wasn't vagueposting toward you at all. I got really bad anon hate yesterday? two days ago? toward my fic (I deleted it, blocked the anon, and never posted it), as well as anons in the past - and I've also been seeing fellow writer friends go through some of the same issues. My post was less of a vague post necessarily and more of a general "let's review fandom etiquette" lol. Know that my post about that, and the subsequent discourse with that anon, was absolutely not directed at you.

When I got your comment I will admit it made me a little uncomfy - mostly because when I've gotten those comments in the past, they're layered with an added "this is what I wanted and you didn't do it so I'm angry and telling you about it", but that's not what you did in your comment - I understood where you were coming from, even if it did make me pause a bit. So i just want to let you know that you shouldn't feel shame or awkward or anything like that. I agree that tone and intention can get lost over the internet, and the relationship between reader and author can be tricky sometimes - particularly if you want to offer an opinion that might not be taken as completely positive? But it sounds like you are aware of that, and I do appreciate you taking the time to self-reflect.

And just as a quick note - in the past, there have been fics I've asked to get feedback on from readers - like La Hantise, for example, which I since deleted to rework as an original fic. I really wanted readers to point out what parts worked for them, and what parts didn't, and I specifically stated that in the author's notes on every chapter. Looking back, that may have been why our signals crossed got crossed, if you've been following my fics before. And usually I am pretty open to opinions in comments? But "ascend" in particularly has gotten some really entitled, really awful comments (again, not putting yours in that category!) so I've had to guard myself a bit with that fic. Maybe it's because it's a fix it fic, and everyone wants different things out of the finale to be fixed. Maybe it's because tensions are high. I dunno. Either way, i've had to build some walls around myself so i don't want to stop posting supernatural fic altogether lol.

So yeah, this is a messy way of saying - thank you for coming to apologize in case you needed to, but know the post wasn't about you. It was a general vent about the unwanted criticism and vitriol that some writers have been receiving lately on their fics. Like, really mean-spirited stuff lol. It wasn't my intention to make anyone paranoid, especially because comments on fics are great and lovely and I'm not about to drag anyone through the mud even if a comment made me a little sad, but I can tell their intentions are good. Usually in that case I just disengage and think about how to process it on my own end. <3

That all being said, i really really appreciate you taking the time to come to my inbox and say all this. You're one of the good ones, you really are. And people like you make me want to keep posting fic. Truly.

[ivcsisms]

        - ̗̀ NOW INTRODUCING:  IVES ❝ IVY ❞ SERRANO !

new york’s very own ives serrano was spotted on broadway street , with a striking semblance to danna paola ! you may know her as @poisonivy or hitting the front page of tmz as social media star joins top 1% of only fans earners after just one day on the platform. according to tmz , she just had your twenty-fourth birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being manipulative , but also alluring . things that would paint a better picture of you would be strawberry champagne, rose petal blunts, and red glossy lips paired with gold jewelry . ( cis female + she/her  ) 

    ♡ — ›   𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 / 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬    &   𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬    &   𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬    &    𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 

hi cuties !! i missed u guys sm !! i was around before the revamp so some of u already know me / ivy but to those that don’t hello i’m tay !! i can’t wait to meet y’all n ur muses soo i’m jus gonna get into it and give this a like if u want me to come bug u for plots !! or if u wanna hmu on discord u can find me at tay#6638. if u want a very long-winded, overly detailed account of everything in her life u can read the bio / stats page i linked above but if u don’t want to read all that shit here’s the basics: 

okie so the first thing u need to know abt ivy is that she is literally always lying like.. her name isn’t even rly ives ! it’s her middle name but still. she started using it when she was a stripper ( which she started doing like on her eighteenth birthday ) and her stage name was poison ivy, and then she created her online persona using the stage name and everyone just knew her as ivy so she went with it

she wanted to hide her real identity at first for like safety reasons but then as she became more and more popular she kept lying to hide her shady ass past bc she’s definitely been arrested a few times for like possession and petty theft/shoplifting type shit and also she doesn’t want anyone to know that she grew up poor, and that all of her money doesn’t come from a trust fund like she says it does

and that’s because most of her money comes from scamming and blackmailing rich men ! also from being a sugar baby but generally most of her money comes from being manipulative and using her looks for evil. she always jokes that her job is literally jus being pretty !

she got most of her ‘fame’ from instagram and other social media, and she’s done a little bit of modeling but more than anything it’s just like being the face of a campaign or a brand ambassador or smth bc she’s too short for the runway so u know like mostly print stuff. 

but most recently she’s been in the news for blowing up on only fans which honestly is the platform she’s probably most excited about being popular on bc u know.. money. she started the account like... mostly as a joke just like ha ha what if i had an of and she posted some pretty tame like lingerie pics and made a bunch of money super quick and just decided This Is What I Do Now bc she was a stripper for a while so it’s not like it’s anything that new to her

definitely spends too much time on tik tok !! social media in general tho too, she’s like always on her phone and is one of those people that can’t just hang out without posting selfies/videos on every social media site and then not-so-secretly obsessing over the engagement on it 

since her fame doesn’t really come from like ... talent ( i might make her a singer again later but for now she’s just Pretty ) she’s always doing crazy shit to keep her name in the press, whether it’s feeding into dating rumors or starting public fights with people, she’s always just trying to stay relevant and get attention ( plus the insta engagements lead to more sponsorships and brand deals sooo... all press is good press to her ) 

she is so selfish, and will always put herself first in any situation. she literally will throw u under the bus or take advantage of u without even thinking twice ok she’s so used to being manipulative and self-centered that she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it sometimes 

that being said she’s super charming and tries to keep a bit of a balance with her reputation, like people expect her to be pretty erratic and unpredictable, but she tries to at least seem nice most of the time so that she isn’t just like... universally hated. she’d much rather be hated by a small group of people that have a reason to hate her but have a mostly ok public reputation, ya know ?? 

and some people definitely have good reasons to hate her bc she takes advantage of / steals from her rich friends a lot ( not her good good friends but like acquaintances ) 

if you actually manage to get through her walls tho she is a super loyal friend and will literally do anything for u, it just takes a lot to get there like she doesn’t open up to a lot of people and is super super selective of who gets to see her be vulnerable and express her true emotions. like how she’s really feeling bc she can fake cry on command so she can be tricky and make u think she cares when she rly just wants something 

she’s also a huge partier and much more pleasant when she’s drunk or on drugs, except for the times when she gets too drunk and will pick a fight with anyone who is unfortunate enough to cross her path. 

she’s very toxic in relationships and therefore never seems to stay in them long, but also dating people / making people think she might be dating someone more famous than her is one of her favorite techniques for getting attention, so she tends to jump around a lot and have those awful on again / off again type relationships 

she’s also bi so her ass is rated e for everybody 

a lot of times she pretends to be dumber than she really is so people don’t suspect her of being the manipulative mastermind that she is, and also she’s so good at lying that sometimes even she believes her own bullshit. she also purposefully keeps an air of mystery about her, especially when it comes her her childhood/background type stuff, she’s just really vague and will usually change the subject when it comes up 

she wakes up every day and chooses chaos, that’s the gist of it really !

connections 

so i have this connections page from before and i’m still fixing / updating it BUT it has a lot of rly good ideas on there but here are just some like general ideas i would love !!

pr relationship / flirtationship / fake enemies ( like they pretend to hate each other or fight on social media for the attention ) 

exes on bad terms ( ig they could be on good terms too but i like drama ok ) 

someone she stole from 

someone that hates her for some other shady shit she did

party friends !!

mom friends that will make her Chill tf out 

bad influence friends ( either they bring out the worst in her or she brings out the worst in them / peer pressures them to do things ) 

on again / off again exes !! 

fwb / casual hookups 

friends to lovers or even better is enemies to lovers,, pls 

nd of course just like general friendships !! fake bitches need friends too !!

[raywritesthings]

Death and Taxes

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Eleventh Doctor, River Song, Clara Oswald, Kate Stewart Pairing: Eleventh Doctor/River Song Summary: River wants a house now that she's out of prison, and the Doctor must embark on the dreaded task of personal finance. / Canon Compliant *Can be read on my AO3 or FFN, links are in bio*

He took Professor Song to see the premiere of the Galactic Federation Symphony. The musicians consisted of Draconians, Alpha Centaurians, and humans, with an Ice Warrior serving as conductor. It was a pleasant evening, music and champagne — the latter of which he did not partake in, content to watch his wife sip at her flute with a smile curving her lips. Much better than the first time they’d met after Manhattan. Even so, they carefully danced around the subject of his travels or companions. It hardly mattered; Clara was home with the children again, so he may as well have been alone.

“So then, back to the Luna University? Or perhaps dancing under the Karaveen Nebula? The night is still young,” the Doctor remarked as he led them arm in arm back through the TARDIS doors.

“Actually, Doctor, I’ve got a matter of business to discuss with you,” River countered in a way that surprisingly enough did not at all sound like an innuendo, and he was getting rather good at picking those up from her.

“Oh?”

She slipped her hand into his, and they walked past the console, up into the corridor and through a door which today led into his study. He perched himself on the corner of his desk, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankle.

“Well, Professor Song, what can I do for you?”

She smirked. “I was hoping you'd ask.” Then she pulled out a stack of paper and files far too large to have fit in an ordinary clutch and set them down just to the right of him with a very heavy thud.

The Doctor blinked. “What’s this?”

“It's what I need you to do for me,” she answered. “I’m buying a house near the university, and there's a lot that needs filled out as far as mortgage payments and property taxes are concerned. Not to mention the loan I’ve got to take from the bank. You’ll have to co-sign on that, by the way.”

The Doctor, whose lip had been curling in distaste with every word she spoke, looked at her with wide eyes. “Co-sign?”

River gave a well-worn sigh. “Yes, Sweetie. I get a better deal if someone does, and you being my husband makes you the ideal candidate. Joint filing.”

“Taxes?” He echoed numbly, thumbing through the stack once. There were all sorts of official looking titles and tiny boxes and very fine print he would most certainly need Amy's glasses for. The Doctor shook his head. “No. No, I haven’t done taxes in — well, er, come to think of it I’m not sure I’ve ever done them. I won’t start now.”

“And what am I supposed to do then? Sleep in my office?”

“Well, no,” he acknowledged. “Couldn't you just — I mean it's not like you haven't before — couldn't you, ah, find some money somewhere?”

“Oh yes, that’ll go over lovely. Paying off my mortgage with undisclosed income. Then they can arrest me again for tax evasion — that’ll be twenty life sentences at least.” Her unimpressed look morphed into something a little more earnest, a little more beseeching. “I’m only trying to get a life after prison started, Doctor.”

Oh. Well, that just wasn’t fair. There really was no faulting her, was there? After all she'd done for him in saving his life, River Song was just asking for a little aid in getting the next chapter of hers going. The last chapter, of which he could never tell her even as it drew ever nearer.

The Doctor stared. River stared back, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched imperiously.

“So, you’ll bring it round the next time you stop by? Lovely.” Without another word, much less waiting for his response, she turned and swept from the room.

“River. River!”

When after a moment she did not return, the Doctor was forced to half-run to catch her up in the console room, where she was already working the controls.

“River, I am homeless. Stateless. Planetless, even! My estate consists of a Type 40 Time Capsule, and it's stolen property.”

“You think my credit’s much better, honey? I'm an ex-con.” She glanced back at him, curls falling in a wave down her shoulder. It was quite the look. “Seeing as we both know how that happened I shouldn't think it’d be that unreasonable of a request.”

The Doctor’s mouth fell open, but nothing came immediately to mind.

River smirked. “I didn’t think so.” The time rotor pulsed once more, then quieted, about the only indication they’d landed whenever his wife was the one driving. Then she continued down the ramp to the doors.

“You could always stay.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and yet hopeless as he knew it was he carried on. “Keep a vortex manipulator onboard, pop over to the University whenever you felt like teaching, then back here. You’re welcome here.”

You’re wanted here, was what he wished to say.

River had paused in front of the doors, and when she turned around this time she looked pained. “Thank you, Sweetie. But we both know that isn't what we are.”

How could they know without ever having tried it? That, at least, he managed to reign in. She already thought him enough of a sentimental old fool, after all.

“I’ll have to have a look around the place sometime,” he came up with instead. “Seeing as it’ll be half mine.”

“Oh honey, that's a promise,” River replied with a wink, and he dredged up a smile just for her. Then she was out the doors and out of his life once again. The Doctor bowed his head briefly, then reached for the dematerialization lever to head back into the Vortex.

Returning to his desk, the Doctor eyed up the stack that waited for him. To his view, it appeared to tower over everything else, particularly once he’d taken his seat. His Everest. He blew out a breath and took out her mother’s glasses. “Right then. Taxes.” The Doctor shrugged. “How hard can they be, really?”

—-

Taxes, as it turned out, could be very hard.

The forms were printed as tiny as he’d suspected and were twice as tricky. To fill one out, he needed to know something called a credit score. The Doctor did not know what a credit score was, and when he asked Clara her eyes went the biggest he’d ever seen them.

“Why do you want to know something like that?”

“Idle curiosity.”

Clara snorted and turned away. He never actually got an answer.

There was a helpline number in incredibly small print at the bottom of the phone. The Doctor liked helplines. A helpline had directed his new friend into his life. Or back into it. He still didn’t know exactly how he had met Clara twice before without her remembering it.

Nevertheless, the Doctor called the number. There was a funny automated voice someone had tried to make sound like a human but seemingly gave up halfway through, and it listed off a whole lot of options and numbers to press accordingly. The Doctor waited until the end of the list, where it told him that if he stayed on the line a real person might actually talk to him. That was much better.

He was tapping his toes along with a very mellow xylophone playing a repetitive verse for several minutes before the music abruptly cut off.

“This is Keisha with Lunar Revenue, how may I help you this morning?”

The Doctor jumped and nearly fumbled the phone. “Keisha! Ha! Yes, you can help me. I need to know what a credit score is.”

“What a credit score is or what your credit score is, sir?”

“Both, preferably.”

There was a pause.

“Uh, well, a credit score is a number a person’s given based on their financial history, and depends on factors like bill payments or outstanding loans,” she explained slowly, as though waiting for him to stop and assure her he understood at any moment. “And to get your credit score, I’m going to need some information from you, sir. Can I have your name?”

“The Doctor,” he readily supplied.

“Alright, and first and last name, sir?”

“No, no,” he said, waving a hand cheerily though it presumably made no difference to her. “Just the Doctor.”

“I’m afraid that’s not a name, sir.”

“Well, of course it isn’t just a name. It’s my name. It’d be silly if you had multiple people running around calling themselves the Doctor — there’s already enough of me doing that.”

There was another long pause. “Well, sir, I will try to find your information in our system, but it might take some time.”

“How much?”

“If you could please hold.”

“Er, yes? Hold what?” He pulled the phone back to look at the receiver. “Keisha? Hello?”

Keisha’s voice had been replaced by the xylophone. And maybe some strings.

“Keisha,” the Doctor grumbled under his breath. He sighed and set the phone down on its side, where he could still make out the music. The Doctor paced around a bit on the main platform, then up on the second level. He went down below to do some maintenance, then came back up.

The music was still playing. He hated waiting.

“Right, okay. Time to jump the line.”

The Doctor hung up the phone. A short trip through the Vortex later and he was striding out into a very tiny cubicle in which was sat a very startled woman with very nice, intricate braids woven into her hair.

“Keisha, right?” The Doctor checked. “I was on the phone with you an hour and a half ago. The Doctor, remember?”

“How did you—”

“I was in the neighborhood. Listen, the way I see it, the faster we get this all sorted out is the less time we have to spend on it, right? So let’s sort it out.” He dropped the files on her desk and gestured at them. “That’s everything I’ve got so far, but I can’t get anywhere without the credit score.”

“This is to co-sign for a house?” She asked after briefly skimming the top form. She was either very clever or just very literate. Possibly both.

“Yes, my wife wants one. It seems very tedious, but her 150th is coming up, so.” He shrugged.

“Right…” She rolled her shoulders and opened up a new window on her computer, which was a flat screen embedded into the cubicle wall. “This is your first time filing with us?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll need to open an account. Let me see what I can find in terms of identification.”

After some tapping on the screen interspersed with checking some of the things he had written down, she turned back around in her chair.

“We have on file here that you’re dead.”

“Ah. Yes. Well, that would be spoilers for me. See, I clearly haven’t died yet.” The Doctor splayed his arms wide in demonstration. It wasn’t as though he could tell her that what they had on record was his fake death. That just wouldn’t do.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” said Keisha.

“Neither am I, most days. But since I am not dead, could I have the information I need to fill out the paperwork for my wife?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. Even if I ignore the claim that you’re dead, you don’t seem to have a record of any credit.”

He rocked back on his heels, hands planted at his waist. “Well, how exactly do you go about getting one?”

“Making purchases and paying them back,” She answered blandly. “Loans. That sort of thing.”

“That’s what people do?”

“Yes. Usually with money they make at their jobs, sir.”

Well, there was a thought. “I’ve had one of those! Maybe they can get me a credit score.”

“Maybe, sir.”

“Alright, then, I’ll be back in a mo’,” he told her, seizing the stack of papers River had given him once more, though he staggered under the additional weight as Keisha through another heavy-looking file. “What’s this, then?”

“Life insurance policy. You may want to take one out before you are dead, sir.”

The Doctor considered, then shook his head. “I’ll be dead before I’d have sorted it out, I expect.” At least he hoped.

Just a quick trip, and then he might soon have all this bureaucratic nonsense out of his life. If the Time Lords could see him now.

The things one did for love.

—-

Kate Stewart had been enjoying a cuppa at her desk until the peace and quiet was shattered by the sound of a wheezing engine, and the papers in front of her were scattered in a sudden strong wind.

She looked up to find the TARDIS materializing right in her office doorway.

“Kate!” The Doctor came bounding out the doors in a purple coat and vest this time, though the bowtie, it seemed, was a constant. She mentally made a note to add that to the file.

“Doctor, this is a surprise. Are we under attack?”

“Not at all, just looking for a bit of assistance.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “With?”

“Taxes,” he answered plainly. Kate nearly fell out of her chair. “River’s eyeing up a house near the Luna University, and there’s a whole thing about payments and whatnot that she’s asked me to sign on for with her, but I haven’t got much in the way of financial history.”

Kate scrambled for a pen and a notepad to start writing this down. At the top of the page, she labeled River? with a large circle surrounding the name.

“See, as of now I have absolutely horrible credit because there’s very little way for me to establish a record of buying and paying for things,” he continued on. “But then I thought, you know who has records? UNIT has records! Loads of records. Records by the bucketful! Surely if anyone has a record of me holding a steady position where I incurred expenses and compensated them, it’ll be UNIT.” The Doctor paused and looked at her. “So would you happen to have something like that?”

“Er, yes, I imagine.” Kate placed a call down to their records keeper, then asked for a pot of tea to be put on while they waited. Her own cup, she requested to be made particularly strong.

“So, you’re buying a house?” She asked to make conversation.

“River’s buying the house,” he corrected her.

“Still, not very like you.” He had lived on Earth for years while working full-time with UNIT and had, by all accounts, slept in the TARDIS parked in his lab.

“Yes, well, River has a habit of making me do things not very like me,” he said, in a tone that was as exasperated as it was fond. He perked up as their records keeper entered with a very old cardboard box. “There we go. Excellent! Give the man a raise.”

“You won’t be getting a raise, Jeremy,” she informed the records keeper matter-of-factly. He nodded and left the room.

The Doctor had popped the lid of the box and was thumbing through the papers. “Credit, credit… not actually sure where I’m meant to find it. Ah well, Keisha will know.” He replaced the lid and hauled the whole box into his arms. “Thanks very much, Kate.”

“Actually, Doctor, since we’re on the subject and if my recollection serves me, we don’t seem to have an accurate date on when you held the lab position with us. Would you be able to—”

The Time Lord was already walking back into his box, and he waved a hand over his shoulder. “Oh, just pick one.”

Kate’s sigh was covered by the departing TARDIS engines.

—-

Clara entered the TARDIS Wednesday morning with a skip in her step. “Mine turn to pick, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Chin Boy agreed, stepping away from the controls as though ceding them to her. She wasn’t actually going to fly this thing, mind. No matter what he’d said about the old cow starting to warm up to her. “Where to?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Clara lifted her old book out of her satchel and hugged it to her chest for a moment. Then, just as she’d opened the cover, the phone rang outside.

“That’s odd.” She knew she’d called him on it, before, but just how many people knew that number anyway? Apart from that woman in the shop, she supposed.

“Ah, hold the thought, Clara,” he said, hurrying around her with a slide of the heels and leaving the ship. “Hello? It has? Approved? Keisha, I could kiss you!”

“Not a snog box, my arse,” Clara muttered under her breath. She hurried to the doorway and leaned out. “Oi, mind not shouting for the whole street to hear?” Artie and Angie were getting curious enough about where she always went on her days off, especially since the latter claimed Clara never used to go anywhere at all.

The Doctor put his hand over the bottom of the phone. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry in the least. “Just got some very good news for one Professor Song.”

Clara raised her eyebrows. “Friend of yours?”

He nodded distractedly, then half-turned away as he continued to speak into the phone. “Yes. Yes, I can stop by. I’ll take the papers over myself to have them signed. You’ve been a saint, Keisha, you’ll do great things. I’m sure of it. Keep working wonders. Yes, bye-bye.”

He hung up the phone and dropped back against the doors with relief as though he’d just completed a marathon.

“You okay?” She asked wryly.

He popped right back up. “Okay? I’m more than okay on this day of days.”

“Right, this day where we’re apparently going to fill paperwork with professors?”

The Doctor paused. “Er, no. I’ll take care of that. Alone.” He tugged at his ear, looking uncomfortable with twitching limbs.

“Something the matter?”

“What? No, nothing. Just, best for me to pay a private visit.” He nodded to himself. “Yeah.”

Perhaps Professor Song didn’t like unfamiliar visitors. Clara pictured a stuffy, studious bloke surrounded by bookshelves and nodded to herself.

“Well then, I suppose I will pick after all. Any further expected interruptions?” She asked, fixing him with a mock arch look.

“None whatsoever.” He gestured back inside of the box. “Lead on, Clara.”

The leader, was she? She quite liked the sound of that.

—-

River did not like being led places. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” was all he said, his breath tickling her ear while his hands rested over her eyes. Oh, he was infuriating sometimes.

“You know I can get out of this any time I like.”

“Yes. And you can get out… now!” He pulled his hands back, and River stood blinking at a front door.

Not just any front door. Her front door. The one she wanted.

“You just fancied a look, then?” He hadn’t brought up the favor she’d asked of him, though she knew by their diaries that he had been asked, and River hadn’t brought it up either. She didn’t want to be too pushy, or else he’d get his back up. It was his way. 

“Nope,” he told her, then withdrew a pen and a form from his vest pocket. “Sign here, please.”

His signature was already affixed under where she was meant to. “Is this…?”

“It’s yours. Already is, actually, I’ve jumped us ahead a few days after I’ve filed the papers, which I’ll do after you sign them. You are the proud owner of four walls, a door and the dimensionally-proportional space contained therein.”

River numbly took the pen and paper and signed her name. It hardly seemed real. It felt like a dream.

She’d never had a home of her own. There was the TARDIS, of course, but no one owned her. Her mother’s childhood home had been Amy’s house and same as her dad’s. Her parent’s place — well, there had been a guest room she’d used now and then. So had other people. They all knew she didn’t live there with them.

But this… this was a space for her to be and to do with as she pleased. She could put things up on the walls or in a drawer without worrying about them being monitored by the Silence or taken during a cell inspection or missing the next time she met up with a younger version of her husband.

“Why anyone would want to be is beyond me, of course,” he was saying now with an exaggerated sniff. He was putting on a show to hide how secretly pleased he was as she gazed on him in wonder.

A part of her had thought he’d never do it.

“You have the keys?” A second later, they were dangling in front of her face, and River snatched them out of the air. She hurried to throw open the door and entered. A sitting room, kitchen, table with chairs. A hallway leading back towards a bed and bath. Tiny and utterly mundane and beautiful.

“You don’t have to go and file those right away, do you?” She asked, reaching back blindly for his hand. He grasped hers loosely in his, twining their fingers.

“No, not right away. Why, have a celebration in mind? We could watch telly, pick out new paint colors…”

River looked back at him with a smirk. “I was thinking we could break in the rooms, honey.”

It was her husband who smirked right back at her. “Now you’re talking.” He kicked the door shut with a ridiculous flail of one leg and was in her arms the next breath.

“Home, Sweetie, Home,” River whispered against his lips.

—-

The Doctor waved goodbye to Clara as she exited the TARDIS once more. They’d had an interesting time of things in the Sombrero Galaxy which, disappointingly, had not included sombreros. But they’d made it back in one piece; frankly, he counted it a mark of success each time Clara came back in one piece. He wasn’t sure whether the third time really was the charm in her case or not, but he was very sure he couldn’t lose her the same way he had lost the other two Claras. Not when he’d already lost so much.

Before he could take off again, there was a flash of light that caused him to duck down under the console for a moment before realizing it wasn’t coming at him. Instead, it hovered across the room, slowly taking shape.

Ah, a delivery. He occasionally received deliveries — perhaps that fez he’d ordered was finally here — but when the light faded, it was not a mechanized courier who stood there, but a letter that dropped to the floor.

The Doctor hurried round to that side of the console and picked it up. It was labeled with the logo of Lunar Revenue. He pinched the bridge of his nose and opened the envelope, bracing himself for what new form or inquiry he needed to fill.

Inside was a single sheet of paper. It read:

Dear The Doctor,

Lunar Services was notified June 7th of the passing of Professor R. Song, the borrower of an outstanding loan on a residence. While we are deeply saddened for your loss, as co-signer you have inherited the remaining balance of that loan. If you wish to have the property taken as collateral to settle the debt, no further action need be taken. Please be advised that this may harm your credit score.

If you would like to continue paying the remaining balance and retain the property, please contact one of our Customer Care Reps at the following number.

He didn’t read the number, for the letter slipped from his fingertips and fluttered to the floor. His hand went to his lips. He had known, yes, that this day was coming, but he hadn’t thought- he’d never expected—

He’d never realized he would be notified of his own wife’s death with such an afterthought.

Anger flaring up within him, he kicked at the letter. It skidded across the floor and stopped, the outline of the tread of his boots printed over one corner. The envelope went next in the opposite direction. It looked rather pitiful and useless, which matched his mood.

He sunk down on the steps and didn’t hear the door opening again. But he heard Clara’s voice. “Everything alright? You haven’t gone yet.”

The Doctor leapt up as if scalded, spinning on his toes as his face contorted in an effort to force the water welling up in his eyes back down. Clara was bending down towards the letter from Lunar Services.

“Don’t touch that!”

She jumped back as he tore it from her grasp, pressing it to his chest. “No need to get tetchy,” she snapped, though she seemed taken aback when their eyes met. “Chin Boy?”

Clara reached towards him, but he stepped back, turning to brace a hand on the control panel as he tucked the letter away.

“Sorry. Just some… private correspondence,” he muttered to the buttons and levers.

“Was it from Professor Song?”

His head bowed, bracing himself.

“I only saw the name, I didn’t read anything else,” Clara hurried to say.

A breath released. She hadn’t seen. He didn’t have to talk about this, this thing he had never talked about ever. “yes, it was from Professor Song,” he lied, and the lie came easy.

“Okay. Well… I guess I’ll leave you to answer it.” She said, and he could hear her drift one foot back towards the door.

“Thank you, Clara,” he said, and he looked once at her over his shoulder. “See ya Wednesday.”

“See ya,” she echoed, the barest of smiles gracing her lips, a mark that he’d at least done a little to reassure her. When the door closed a second time, he immediately pulled the lever to dematerialize. He couldn’t afford to stick around again by mistake.

Once safely alone, the Doctor took out the letter again, eyes scanning over the words. If you would like to continue paying the remaining balance and retain the property… Retain the property?

It had been River’s house, not his. River would be in every room. Her things and the scent of her perfume and the sound of her laugh — just thinking of it was enough to fill his lungs and head so much that he could hardly breathe, could hardly think.

If you wish to have the property taken as collateral to settle the debt, no further action need be taken. Please be advised that this may harm your credit score, the letter said, and that felt better. No action could be taken. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could change.

The Doctor marched back to his study and opened a drawer. He placed the letter inside as far back as it would fit, then shut it. He knew already that he would never open it again nor speak to anyone from Lunar Services, tax evasion and bad credit be damned.

He’d never wanted the score or the house. He just wanted her. Now he would have none.

[asterinjapan]

The pilgrimage that (mostly) wasn’t

Good afternoon!

Well, sorta, I’m typing this before 6 PM so I guess it still counts as afternoon, haha.

A slightly earlier report today because, uhm, I tried to do the Onomichi temple walk. Emphasis on tried. I must confess I gave up and returned to the station, but not before seeing quite some temples anyway, so a report you shall have!

First, I had to get to Onomichi, which is in the Hiroshima prefecture. I took the shinkansen for Fukuyama (one whole stop) and then a local train for Onomichi station. I mean, sure, there’s a direct line from Okayama too, but why take that if it’s literally 3 times slower? Long live my JR pass letting me use the shinkansen, haha.

Onomichi is a coastal town along the Seta Inland sea and is connected to Shikoku island by a 60 kilometer long toll road. It’s not the only connection to Shikoku, but it is the only bridge that can be crossed by bike (a very popular cycling route) or on foot. I, uh, wasn’t going to do either of those two, but it does explain the huge amount of bikes and bike related stores here, haha.

Onomichi is also known for having a ton of slopes and even more temples. Like, if you think Kyoto is bad, try Onomichi. It’s a relatively small town, so the temples are fairly concentrated. 25 of them are connected via a 2.5 kilometer long temple walk, so I was determined to do that one today.

At the tourism information office, I got a map indicating the route, and off I took to the first temple. My eyes were drawn up first, however, because there was a small castle uphill! And no, Onomichi isn’t a historical castle town. The castle has no history, it was literally just built in the 1960s as an attraction, presumably because some guy in Onomichi went ‘guys, I want a castle’ (I mean, I can relate, so). It was closed for public in the 1990s and they’re still not sure what to do with it, but that was a fun first look, haha.

Less fun was my ability to get lost immediately. In my defense: there is a lot of signage, but I’ve read more people complaining about having trouble finding the first temple, so at the very least it’s not just me. I accidentally started an ascent I hadn’t planned to make yet, so I turned around, was greeted by a kitty giving me a confused look like ‘didn’t you just go past here’, and google mapped my way out. There are, by the way, a lot of cats here in Onomichi. I think I’ve seen more cats than temples, honestly, and there’s even a cat alley here, haha.

After a bit of a detour, I did end up at temple number one, Jikoji temple which, to be fair, was quite pretty. I took some photos here to commemorate temple 1 and then followed the signage to Komyoji temple, and I trailed off for a bit to find Kaifukuji temple as well. Three down, only 20 more to go or so! Yikes.

As I said, slopes. There was a lot of uphill walking involved, often stairs, and often steep and uneven, so uh, I’ve had nicer walks. Next up was Hodoji temple, which was close to a shrine, and also featured quite a nice statue of what I can only assume is Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of mercy (one of the very few Buddhist figures I recognize, so if that wasn’t Kannon, I’ll cry now, haha).  This temple was a bit bigger and also featured a lot of beckoning cat statues in the window of one of the buildings.

There, the route didn’t seem to line up with my map anymore. I was expecting Shingyoji temple, but I first ran into the three story pagoda of Tenneiji temple and had to backtrack to find the actual temple. It was a long way up next, orrrr I could pay for the ropeway to go up on Mount Senkoji.

Yeah, I paid for the ropeway, haha. In my defense, it gives you lovely views as you go right over the temples and pagoda.

The mountain has an observation platform, which I naturally went up in immediately. I was getting hungry and the interior of the platform teased with some tasty sounding dishes, only to find the restaurant in here closed… Great, now I really was hungry, haha. Luckily I had some bread with me, so I nibbled on that as I took up my map again. Next to the observatory I had already spotted the ‘lovers sanctuary’, which featured a bunch of those heart locks and uh, a statue of two cats in love in the middle, haha. They sure love their cats here.

Well, I was here for temples, so I went downhill for a bit to eventually find Senkoji temple. On the way, I passed a tree with a branch apparently so Instagram worthy that they had put up 2 plaques, one on each side, telling people in four different languages not to climb on it because it was dangerous. That… that must have happened multiple times. To be fair, it was a nice looking branch, but yeah…

Anyway, I found the temple! This one also gave some nice views, even if it was a bit lower than the observatory, and you had a view on the ropeway gondolas this way. I took a break here as it was possible to order green tea with a Japanese snack, so I did just that. Unfortunately, a large group of Japanese tourists had just arrived too and was uncharacteristically loud, but thankfully, they were taking a very quick-paced tour and left minutes later.

I explored the area a little more, only to find a number of very big rocks piled together that you could climb. Like, rock climb. Uhm, no thank you, haha.

I went back to the ropeway station, because I had paid for a round trip so I was getting my round trip! And it was a much longer way back down than it was back up, anyway. The way was pretty steep, but I thankfully found a French restaurant that sold waffles. Well, sold them so well they sold out… I was still hungry, so I got a plate of spaghetti with huge shrimps, which was yummy, but wayyyy too much for little old me, oops. I was not expecting the plate to be that full… But, what I did finish was good, and the view was amazing, I have to say.

I was almost back at the top, so I climbed the last couple of meters and went back to the ropeway station. Once down again, I tried to look for that temple I had missed, but it had started to drizzle, and I noticed my mood hadn’t really improved so far either. Back to the station it was!

Thankfully, there’s a flat road next to the tracks, so finding my way back was much easier and way less steep. I had to wait a little, so I scored some Hiroshima kitkat (still Hiroshima prefecture after all) and then took the train back to Fukuyama and from there, Okayama.

 So uh, that wasn’t much of a pilgrimage, but I did honestly try! I think it might have been better if the weather had been less gloomy and if I hadn’t just already climbed several hills this week, haha. A pilgrimage sure is tricky. I can only applaud everyone who did finish the entire path, because by the looks of my map, I only finished about a quarter of it, maybe a third if you count Mount Senkoji as a whole. And that’s not even mentioning people who complete the 88 temple pilgrimage of Shikoku, like, whoa!

Would I go back to retry? Maybe, but not very soon and not at the tail end of a busy week. I think I’d rather try the cycling route actually, since they also rent out electric bikes, but that also won’t be any time soon. Onomichi is very pretty though, with some lovely views to offer and plenty of museums that I completely skipped over, oops.

I’m really full from that plate of spaghetti, haha, so I’ll find something light for dinner and reserve train tickets for Saturday and probably for tomorrow, too. Saturday will be very busy, and tomorrow will be rainy, sure, but… I’m also so close to Marugame now, which houses another original castle keep, and I’m at 6 out of 12 of original castles right now… I wanna get past the halfway point… So that’s probably going to happen tomorrow, haha, although I’ve already been warned about another steep climb. Oh dear. At least it’s just for the one building instead of 25! And if that all works out, then I’m pleased to announce that so far, I’ve managed to do every single side trip that I had listed, minus the extra ones I only had as back up. I honestly wasn’t expecting that, but my only complaint is that I still wake up too early, so I’m pretty tired. Still, my legs are only slightly sore after some hectic 17 days, with not a sight of blisters or any kind of external injury. I’m impressed, well done body!

So we’ll see about tomorrow, haha, but that’s it for today.

Good night and see you tomorrow!

[morethankradio]

Something Awesome: Data Thief or Gift Recipient

Okay, we’ve seen more than a few attacks that can be performed when someone clicks a link or navigates to a website.

Cryptojacking

Cross Site Request Forgery

Drive-By Attacks

Zoom 0day

But it’s time to pay homage to the attack that’s hidden in plain site. 

tldr; head over to https://fingerprintme.herokuapp.com/ for some fun.

Passive Data Theft

I hesitate to call it theft when in fact we are giving all of this data to every website we visit like a little gift. 

Please, accept this bundle of quasi-identifiers as a token of my appreciation.

Many internet users have no idea just how much data is available to websites they are visiting, so it’s worth exploring just what is in our present.

IP Address and Geolocation API

Like any good gift giver, we better write on the tag. 

To: <website server> From: <your IP address>

Your IP (Internet Protocol) address is a little 32-bit (now possibly 128-bit) number that uniquely identifies your device on the Internet. This is by design; people need to be able to address you to be able to send you any packets. A static 1:1 mapping of devices to IPs is definitely a massive exaggeration today as as we use technologies to let multiple devices share one IP, dynamically acquire an IP for each session, and our ISPs (Internet Service Providers) may also dynamically assign our IP address.

Nonetheless, IP addresses have (again by design) another function; location addressing. This is because when you’re internet traffic is propagating through the Internet (a global network of routers) it needs to know where it physically needs to go, and fast. Owing to this, the internet has taken on a hierarchical structure, with different ISPs servicing different geographical regions. These ISPs are tiered such that lower tier ISPs service specific subsets of the upper level tier’s region, providing more geographical specificity. It is this property of IP addresses that allows anyone with your IP address to get a rough idea where you are in the world. Moreover, IP addresses from specific subnets like AARNet (for Australian Universities) can be a giveaway for your location.

Try Googling “my ip” or “where am i”. There are many IP to Geolocation API services available. I have made use of https://ipgeolocation.io/, which has a generous free tier 🙏.

User Agent

Every request your browser makes to a server is wrapped up with a nice little UserAgent String bow, that looks a little like this,

User-Agent: Mozilla/<version> (<system-information>) <platform> (<platform-details>) <extensions>

Oh how sweet 😊 it’s our Operating System, our browser and what versions we of each we are running, and if the server is lucky, perhaps a few extra details.

Here are a few examples from MDN:

Mozilla/5.0 (Windows NT 6.1; Win64; x64; rv:47.0) Gecko/20100101 Firefox/47.0

Mozilla/5.0 (Macintosh; Intel Mac OS X x.y; rv:42.0) Gecko/20100101 Firefox/42.0

Mozilla/5.0 (X11; Linux x86_64) AppleWebKit/537.36 (KHTML, like Gecko) Chrome/51.0.2704.103 Safari/537.36

Why might this be a problem? Allow me to direct you towards my earlier post on Drive-By Attacks. Vulnerabilities are often present in specific versions of specific platforms. If an exploit server detects that your particular version of Chrome for Windows (for example) has a known vulnerability, well then prepare to be infected. 

Navigator

Okay, I think we’ve been polite enough, it’s time to rip this packaging open! Ooh what is this inside? It’s an invitation to our browser of course! 

When we send off a request to a web server complete with our IP and User Agent string, the web server will typically respond by sending us a web page to render. These days a web page can be anything from a single HTML file with a few verses from a dead poet, to a fully fledged JavaScript application. To support this development, browsers are exposing more and more functionality/system information through a special JavaScript interface called Navigator.

From MDN,

The Navigator interface represents the state and the identity of the user agent. It allows scripts to query it and to register themselves to carry on some activities.

...to carry on some activities... I wonder. The list of available properties and methods is pretty comprehensive so I’ll just point out a few interesting ones.

getBattery() (have only seen this on chrome)

connection (some details about your network connection)

hardwareConcurrency (for multithreading)

plugins (another important vector for Drive-Bys)

storage (persisted storage available to websites)

clipboard (requires permissions, goodness plz be careful)

doNotTrack (i wonder who checks this...)

vibrate() (because haptic is the only real feedback)

While I’ve got it in mind, here’s a wonderful browser localStorage vulnerability I stumbled across https://github.com/feross/filldisk.com. There’s a 10MB per site limit, but no browser is enforcing this quota across both a.something.com and b.something.com...

I have no idea why Chrome thinks it’s useful to expose your battery status to every website you visit... Personally, the clipboard API feels the most violating. It requires permissions, but once given you’re never asked again. Control/Command + V right now and see what’s on your clipboard. I doubt there’s many web pages that you’d actually want to be able to read your clipboard every time you visit.

Social Media Side Channel / CSRF

Okay, now we’re getting a little cheeky. It’s actually possible to determine if a browser has an authenticated session with a bunch of social media platforms and services.

It’s a well known vulnerability (have a laughcry at some of the socials responses), which abuses the redirect on login functionality we see on many of these platforms, as well as the Same-Origin Policy SOP being relaxed around HTML tags, as we saw was sometimes exploited by Cross Site Request Forgery attacks.

Consider this lovely image tag.

<img src="https://www.facebook.com/login.php?next=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Ffavicon.ico%3F_rdr%3Dp">

As you can see, the image source (at least originally) doesn’t point to an image at all, but rather the Facebook login page. Thanks to SOP, we wouldn’t and shouldn’t be able to send an AJAX request to this website and see the response. But this HTML image tag is going to fire off a GET request for it’s source no problem. 

Thanks to redirect on login, if a user rocks up to the login page with the correct session cookies then we won’t have them login again, but rather we redirect them to their newsfeed; or, as it turns out, whatever the URL parameter next points to. What if we point it to an actual image, say the website icon, such that the HTML image tag loads if we are redirected, and fails if not.

Simple but effective. You can try it for yourself here, by opening my codepen in your browser when you’re signed in to Facebook, and when you’re signed out (or just use Incognito).

Fingerprint Me v1.0

Okay, time for a demonstration. I took the liberty of writing my own web page that pulls all this data together, and rather than store it for a rainy day (like every other page on the web),  I present it to the user on a little web dashboard. It’s like a mirror for your browser. And who doesn’t like to check themselves out in the mirror from time to time 🙃

Random technical content: I had to fetch the geolocation data server-side to protect my API key from the client, then I sneak it back into the static HTML web page I’m serving to the user by setting it on the window variable in some inline script tags.

I bust out some React experience, and have something looking pretty (pretty scary I hope) in some nondescript amount of time (time knows no sink like frontend webdev). I rub my hands together grinning to myself, and send it off to some friends.

“Very scary”. I can see straight through the thin veil of their encouragement and instead read “Yeaaaah okay”. One of them admits that they actually missed the point when they first looked at it. But.. but... nevermind. It’s clearly not having the intended effect. These guys are pretty Internet savvy, but I feel like this should be disconcerting for even the most well seasoned web user... 

Like that moment you lock eyes with yourself in the mirror after forgetting to shave a few days in a row.

Fingerprint Me v2.0

An inspired moment follows. I trace it back to the week ?7 activity class on privacy:

It is very hard to make a case for privacy. What is the inherent value of privacy? Why shouldn’t the government have our data, we give it to a million services everyday anyway, and receive a wealth of benefits for it. Go on, have it. I wasn’t using it for anything anyway. 

It is very easy to make a case for privacy, if there is any sense that someone malicious is involved. As soon as there is someone who would wish us ill it becomes obvious that there are things that the less they know the better. 

<Enter great The Art of War quote here.>

~ Sun Tzu

Therein lies the solution. I need to make the user feel victimised. And what better to do it than a green on black terminal with someone that calls themselves a hacker rooting your machine.

DO CLICK THIS LINK (it’s very safe, I promise) https://fingerprintme.herokuapp.com

Some more random technical content: Programming this quite synchronous behaviour in the very async-centric JavaScript was quite a pain. It was particularly tricky to get around the fact that React renders it’s component hierarchy top down, so I needed the parent components to mount empty in order for them to be correctly populated with child components later. It was also a pain to access and render child components conditionally, especially if you want to have sets of child components in different files, as though they aren’t ultimately nested in the DOM, React will treat them as if they are.

Some User Reviews:

“It feels like I should shut the window”

“This is SO RUDE”

“Battery level. I mean. Literally. How.”

Excellent.

Recommendations

Know what’s in your present, and who you’re gifting it to 🎁

To protect your IP address/location consider using a VPN or ToR

Check out NoScript, a browser plugin that will block JavaScript by default, but allow you to enable it for trusted sites.

Check out and share https://fingerprintme.herokuapp.com 😉

[lacquerware]

Mega Man should stop presenting its flaws as indispensable features

When I was fifteen, I learned to play the song Malagueña on the piano. It was a laborious project; the culmination of nine years of piano lessons under the tutelage of Mrs. Diane Miller, and the main event for her upcoming student showcase.

This arrangement of the piece was a seven-pager, and somewhere around page four was a problem phrase I kept playing wrong, a rapid two-handed run up the keyboard with tricky fingering. I got to a point where I could play flawlessly up to that phrase, only to flub the phrase every time. Each time I flubbed it, my teacher would stop me and send me back to page 2. “You have to perfect that phrase,” she would say, “so try it again, but first play the preceding two pages, so it’s no longer fresh in your mind by the time you get to it again.” Alas, this would result in more flubs, and after three flubs in a row she would send me back to the beginning of the entire piece. “You’re still not getting it,” she’d say. “So I think we should run through the stuff you’ve already mastered one more time.” I would glance at her, trying to read her intent, and she would stare back at me, bug-eyed and malevolent.

The above story is false,because Mrs. Miller was a kind, intelligent, and non-insane person. Like all people of that description, she understood that you don’t work out a problem area by indiscriminately repeating ALL PRACTICE. When you get one problem wrong on a math quiz, you don’t review the entire textbook. You don’t work on your free throws by drilling layups and then also free throws. You can’t learn to poach an egg by toasting English fucking muffins all day. To suggest otherwise is an act of hostility.

Mega Manhas always carried this hostility. The game dishes out its challenges in neat little screen-sized units, but penalizes your failures with gratuitous setbacks, often requiring you to replay entire stages from the beginning. This makes learning inordinately tedious. You have to retread every yard for every yard gained.

I guess this is a relic of the arcade age, when games were designed with the express intent of punishing players—unless they paid up. Indeed, most of Mega Man’s NES contemporaries inherited this same feature in the form of finite lives and scarce checkpoints, but it never made much sense on home consoles. You could argue that it prolonged the lifespan of each game, but that only held true for the masochists who continued to tolerate this torturous system rather than reallocate all that wasted time to more fruitful pursuits like, I dunno, learning to play piano or poach an egg.

I’ve always liked Mega Man, but it was already starting to feel like a tired concept as early as Mega Man IV. I was about eight years old by then, and starting to catch on that they were running out of boss motifs. Pharaoh Man felt like a red flag.

Mega Man has since proliferated into a multi-faceted franchise spanning more than 120 titles and three decades (and for the record, I’ve played through almost all of them), but it’s never really dispensed with its ancient baggage. Mega Man X brought new visual flare while diversifying the core action; Mega Man Zero imbued the series canon with new consequence and cool factor; Mega Man ZX fused the classic gameplay with the Metroidvania template; but all of these spin-offs continued to punish, punish, punish, to gatekeep their content from the series’ own consumers to no certain end.

When Capcom revealed Mega Man 9, I was momentarily taken with the nostalgia of it, but quickly lost interest when I realized that Capcom had no intent of evolving the series’ concepts, even in basic quality-of-life ways. Lives and weapon energy were still pointlessly commodified, checkpoints sadistically scarce. They’d even removed what few innovations the series had seen to date, such as the slide and the charge shot. Nor did the roster of Robot Masters appear any more inspired than the cast of rejects that had turned me off five installments prior. Capcom had had seventeen years to think about it and all they’d come up with were lame analogs of pastbosses, like Tornado Man and Magma Man. It’s like they thought they hadto retread the same shit beat for beat or people would get confused. Even their ace, Splash Woman, was just another in a long line of water-themed bosses.

Mega Man 10 as a follow-up was downright depressing. Strike Man, Pump Man, and Chill Man are what you get when you realize yesterday was the deadline and all you’ve got is a pen and a cocktail napkin. I can’t fathom that a bunch of game designers sat around brainstorming ideas for Mega Man fucking 10 and someone was like, “Hmm, what about an ice-themed boss.”

Now we have Mega Man 11, the long-awaited, belligerently-demanded revival of the MM franchise after some eight years of dormancy. After playing the demo, I find myself wondering why. Why are we here? Why is Mega Man 11 Capcom’s answer after saying no to Mega Man for eight years? It’s the SAME.

Yes, it looks and sounds nicer and there’re a couple new mechanics—which are themselves comically uninspired takes on the ancient tropes of bullet time* and Devil Trigger—but I’m mystified at how unchanged the formula still is after eight years of seemingly adamant dismissal of the entire franchise, let alone the thirty-one years they could’ve been critically examining it. Do they realize that other developers have been building on this genre since the eighties?

*Weird side note: The tutorial for Mega Man’s new “Speed Gear” ability explains that the gear makes you “move so fast that everything else seems slow,” but in practice Mega Man moves just as slowly as everything else. So it’s not Mega Man who’s moving fast, it’s. . . the player?  

Punishment as “Difficulty”

In the Block Man (lol) stage of the demo, there’s a section where you have to jump and slide through elaborate platforms as they scroll toward you, an insta-kill grinding device nipping at your heels all the while. The third platform has very peculiar collision detection, such that your head bonks against the empty space you’re supposed to jump through, seemingly rendering the challenge impossible. This is several screens into the stage but still prior to the first checkpoint (on Normal mode), so every time this platform killed me, I had to start the entire stage over. After about fifteen tries, I discovered that the collision doesn’t trigger if you’re holding left as you make the jump—an illogical thing to do unless you’ve died so many times you’ve run out of other ideas. By the time I cracked this idiosyncrasy, I’d already spent close to an hour replaying the preceding screens over and over for no reason. Why is this still a thing? This is punishment, not difficulty. It contributes to the challenge only in that it makes the experience less fun, “challenging” your resolve to continue playing. Think of all the origami you could be learning. All the old ladies you could be helping cross streets.

The Mega Man games are quite clever in the way they parse out the platforming and shooting in little bite-sized units. Each screen is essentially an action puzzle for you to solve. It would be so logical for each screen break to be a checkpoint, because each screen break isa checkpoint—the start of the next challenge. Games like Super Meat Boy do this, meting (meating?) out their challenges in bite-sized, infinitely repeatable increments. Nobody accuses Super Meat Boy of being too easy because it doesn’t make you repeat the shit you’ve already completed when you fail at the current task. If you wantthat kind of punishment, no one’s stopping you from resetting the game.

Mega Man 11 adds a “Casual” mode which increases the number of checkpoints, but it’s still annoying to me that the more punishing model is treated as the norm while the more logical distribution of checkpoints is treated as a concession. Soulsplayers will tell me to “git gud,” but that’s why I led with the piano analogy. I got damn good at Malagueña, and I still had time left over to do my homework and play video games.

Special Weapons

Using your Special Weapons in Mega Man games is like spending the money you might need to pay rent on stuff you could be getting for free through your well-connected friend Dave. The trial-and-error pairing of the right weapon and the right boss is such an integral part of Mega Man’s progression that any other use of anyspecial weapon becomes a high-risk gamble—unless, of course, you just Google the answers.

I understand the need to impose limits on the more powerful weapons, but games have figured out countless better ways to do this in the thirty-one years since Mega Man 1. Cool-down times. Cool-down meters. Recovery proportional to damage inflicted. Recovery proportional to damage received. Recovery by way of skillful attack, à laMetal Gear Rising. Enemy fire absorption à la Alien Soldier and Radiant Silvergun. Ranger X on the Sega Genesis had solar-powered special weapons; why not steal that idea for this game’s allegedly solar-powered protagonist?

Instead, even in its eleventh installment in two-thousand-goddamn-eighteen, Mega Man still employs an RNG-based item drop system. Replenishing your meter is as simple and menial as finding an enemy spawn point and brainlessly standing and shooting until an enemy happens to drop the energy you need. Don’t forget to cycle over to the gun you want to replenish, or else the battery is wasted, as if Mega Man just eats it by mistake.*

*Later games in the series introduced the Energy Balancer, a purchasable item which automatically refills the weapon that needs refilling even if you don’t have it selected. Why is that a thing you have to buy? Why put a fundamental improvement to the game behind a paywall, virtual or otherwise?

Meanwhile, MM11still employs the same bizarre meter continuity between deaths as past installments. Each death means repeating sections of the stage without reacquiring any previously spent meter, effectively creating a difficulty vortex—the harder this game is, the harder it gets. There was a ruthlessly capitalistic logic to this in the arcade days,but the Mega Man series has never been coin-operated (with a few obscure exceptions). It hasnevermade sense that, often, the best strategy is to voluntarily leap to your death over and over to force a Game Over, just to restart with a full weapon meter as an alternative to the tedium of refilling it manually or facing the boss without it. What is the explanation for this meter continuity in the first place? Are we supposed to think Mega Man is repeatedly exploding and materializing but he can’t materialize a few extra shots from his bubble gun while he’s at it? There’s a multi-faceted idiocy to this whole system.

Rush

Capcom ought to take a long, hard look at Rush, Mega Man’s transforming robot dog companion. It’s hard to believe the same guy who invented a fully autonomous solar-powered robot boy couldn’t design a dog-shaped spring that runs on renewable energy. Special weapons are one thing, but why does Rush have an exhaustible meter? He’s a fucking spring. It makes no sense as a narrative detail nor as an element of game design. What exactly are the designers trying to limit? Your ability to spam high jumps? The logistics of the Rush Coil already do that; you have to set him up like a lawn ornament and he peaces out after a single bound. He’s unspammable, even with a full bar. To begin with, there are rarely that many useful opportunities to use the Rush Coil within a single stage, and energy power-ups are infinite as long as you’re willing to endure the chore of finding them, so it’s not as though the game is challenging you to budget your resources—it’s just discouraging you from searching for those meaningful jump opportunities in the first place. It’s driving you to Google.

Bosses

The Robot Masters have always received special star treatment in the Mega Man games but rarely been very interesting as boss fights. You know the deal: dodge the dizzying hail of projectiles in an empty square room while desperately scrambling to land enough hits with the weakness weapon before you die. Considering all the fanfare these bosses get (mug shot, intro screen, and now reveal trailers), most of them feel kind of interchangeable. Most of them have nearly identical silhouettes and shoot functionally redundant projectiles in superficially different shapes. Every gun is a Lucky Charms marshmallow.

The boss fights actually do seem a little more interesting in Mega Man 11—Block Man in particular stands out with his mid-fight transformation into a hulking colossus. I’d hoped to see more of this in future Mega Mans—fights that evolve and really set each Robot Master apart as a distinct embodiment of its corresponding motif—so maybe they’re onto something this time. Still, it’s a little ridiculous that this game has yet another fire boss, electricity boss, cold boss, and bomb boss. Why are we still here?

Before the mob comes for me, I want to stress that there’s always been lots to love about Mega Man, and I’m glad Capcom is investing in the IP again. I just hope this is the start of a long-term effort to reevaluate and improve the series, not another short-sighted extension of a tired status quo.

[keepingupwithlinmanuel]

The reach of Lin-Manuel Miranda

Lin-Manuel Miranda is begging you. Don’t bug him about running for office.

“Please don’t make me be in politics,” he says. “I’m asked all the time. And I say, ‘Please, no, please, don’t make me, please let me write songs.’ Listen, my dad’s in politics. If you were the butcher’s son, you’d be a little like, ‘I don’t need a steak for dinner,’ you know what I mean? I’m the butcher’s son.”

Miranda comes across as an impeccable prospect for charming the electorate: affable, knowledgeable, photogenic; devoted to family, impossibly in-demand and ridiculously amenable to interacting with his huge fan base. With his ever more aggressive use of the platform he’s been given to promote causes he believes in — like the March for Our Lives and relief for hurricane-pummeled Puerto Rico — the questions about ambitions that might take him far afield of Broadway and Hollywood don’t seem so far-fetched. As he puts it himself: “I’m a private citizen with a big megaphone.”

...

These days, when the 38-year-old Miranda speaks, the nation listens, or rather, the cross-section of Americans young and old, who might gravitate to a sunny, tolerant personality with a rare talent for lashing together two American passions: hip-hop and revolutionary history. He’s amassed 2.4 million Twitter followers — an account that makes things happen. After Hurricane Maria knocked out essential services on Puerto Rico, for example, Miranda tweeted the appeal of a person whose mother needed dialysis and got the machine to her. (He also happens to have raised $30 million for the rescue efforts, according to officials at charitable groups.)

“Lin-Manuel is probably the most prominent Puerto Rican of his generation,” says Cristóbal J. Alex, president of Latino Victory, a Washington-based organization that promotes Latino political candidates and voter registration and for which Miranda raises money. “As you’re seeing, the Mirandas have that family tradition of service and advocacy. It’s part of their identity.”

The disarming side of all of this has to do with a Twitter “addiction,” as Miranda labels it, that gives vent to his own fanboy tendencies. Last month, on the day Fox announced the cancellation of cult-hit sitcom “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” Miranda tweeted an all-caps request it be renewed because “I ONLY WATCH LIKE 4 THINGS. THIS IS ONE OF THE THINGS.” The next day, NBC swooped in to pick up the show for a sixth season, and one of its stars, Terry Crews, paid tribute to the groundswell Miranda helped to muster, tweeting his thanks by saying: “We should do a musical episode of Brooklyn 99 in your honor!”

Jokes Miranda: “And that’s called using your powers for good.”

Thomas Kail, director of “Hamilton” and Miranda’s other Tony-winning musical, “In the Heights,” says he has watched over the years as the composer shared “Hamilton’’ songs-in-process on social media. He’s marveled, even teased Miranda, over the magnitude of his openness. But he’s also come to understand the method in his friend’s friendliness, and they’ve continued to take advantage of Miranda’s digital pipeline to the public, with monthly “Hamildrops” — recordings and videos inspired by “Hamilton” by everyone from Weird Al Yankovic to the indie rock group the Decemberists.

“He is saying this work doesn’t come down from the mountaintop,” Kail observes. “What Lin is making us aware of is that we are all from the same stuff, we’re all made of the same atoms. I’ve been watching someone who I’ve known for 15 years maintain who he is and, at the same time, walk out a stage door and have 600 people run down 46th Street after him. This is the same person who is using his platform to talk about what he cares about.”

“I remember early in ‘Hamilton’s’ run doing an interview with a reporter who kept asking me all these political questions,” Miranda says. “I remember stopping midway, being like, ‘Why do you care about this?’ And his answer was, ‘Well, the show is, I think, really affecting how people think about things, and people are looking to you to do that.’ And that’s not something I ever sought or ever looked at. All I wanted to do is write the best musical I could. Full stop.”

Talking to him about his role as “Hamilton’s” founding father, you get a taste of all the ways in which his life remains inextricably linked to the show. That’s the tricky part of the job of nurturing a long-running megahit: Is there a way to detach from it enough so that you can create other things as equally satisfying?

Miranda believes, of course, that he can. For Disney, he’s already finished shooting the new “Mary Poppins” sequel, “Mary Poppins Returns,” starring Emily Blunt and Miranda playing Jack, a London lamplighter. And before he tackles another musical, he says, he’s writing “several things for movies first.”

“I’ve always only wanted to do three things in my life. Make up songs, act and make movies,” he says. “And I’ve had a good deal of the first two, and I want to use what I’ve learned from the first two to do the third. So I’m going to try that for a bit. But I have lots of ideas for the next stage piece. It’s a question of which one raises its hand.

“And which one raises its hand with the relentlessness with which the ghost of Alexander Hamilton raised his hand. And wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Read the entire article here.

[lynchmcknight24-blog]

Underrated Questions on Fallout 76

Then, to make it a little more interesting, Agent Brown will appear to provide you with some hassle. Assuming that it is going to run for a couple weeks, and Bethesda will subsequently need at the very least a couple of months before the November release, it appears likely that it might begin quite soon. It tried to fix the game with several updates including a major one last month. Fallout 76 - Overview Presently, official details on the approaching game continue to be slim. You may search through the perk cards too. An image search on the web will pull many different interpretations. While the procedure for unlocking perk cards is different, the best way to use them is also quite different. Eurogamer reports several regions of the room continue to be accessible, but players are not able to interact with the items within them. You'll then have the ability to nab these 3 games at no charge from the menu. Naturally, there's a process involved with getting past the velvet beta rope. Rather than being strange bedfellows, you'll now be given the opportunity to move everything to a totally new location at no cost. Without a pool prepared to purchase the item, the item will fail, irrespective of the degree of any other fundamental. Fallout 76 - the Conspiracy Essentially, they can choose whether or not they want to participate in Area Chat or not. You're just going to get to purchase the game to understand how cool it is for yourself. It has an alternate version of the history. There's still one key aspect I wish to learn about this game, which is whether it will be cross platform. Ownership of physical games has ever been straight-forward. Firstly, the only means to get access to the beta is to pre-order the game. As stated earlier, V.A.T.S. no longer pauses time as it once did, and that means you won't get a good deal of time to pick a target on your opponent just like you're probably utilised to. Over 500 comments are posted to the thread to date, with the great majority of players offering their thoughts on the way the transition to free-to-play would change the in-game economy and bring in the kind of gamers which don't traditionally participate in the Fallout universe. The world might never know. The genre is going to be action based. There aren't any interactive human NPCs on earth, but there are methods for players to acquire quests from robots and through various different ways. You are able to also use it in order to craft and mod weapons. Or perhaps you think we already reside in a perfect world and shouldn't change anything. So it's tricky to say that the 2 experiences will play the exact same. You can discover the complete patch notes below. Which in some respects is a little bit of a buzzkill. Then you find the people complaining that it doesn't have any story. A couple days back, people started to whisper about its existence in Fallout 76 on Reddit, with an increasing number of people hunting for it. Fallout 76: the Ultimate Convenience! Continue reading for more information about what's happening and why pre-ordering is your very best alternative for getting access to the beta. The initial loading screen to get in the game apparently isn't enough because every important building interior demands a loading screen to enter and out of. When it might look like it is a neat method to receive early access to Fallout 76, the beta is sure to have some leftover issues, too. The Advantages of Fallout 76 You will explore six distinct areas of Fallout 76. When you die within this game, you will eliminate all your loot, but you won't lose your weapons or currently equipped armor. Fallout has a fairly sturdy formula. Because there aren't any human NPCs, there is absolutely no suspense to anything. No matter in which you stand with Fallout 76, you must admit that it appears like Bethesda is attempting to do the appropriate thing with the game. Fallout 76 was discovered to be full of game-breaking bugs and entire segments of the world were shown to be unplayable. In reality, the home page itself didn't even supply an easily viewable method to find the beta. Some individuals have tweeted that you must order the particular edition of Fallout 76 to find access to the beta, but this doesn't seem to be the circumstance. Or it is a tribute video to the employees of the business. The Good, the Bad and Fallout 76 After all, high profits permit studios to continue to keep developers in employment and the budget to create more titles. For a fully-priced title from a big studio, however, the deficiency of quality is really unforgivable. First you should identify your intended industry. As soon as you're in exactly the same level band, look at moving to the next hunting ground a military base named Huntersville. If your driving is largely short trips, you are going to want to modify your oil more frequently. When you escape the vault, you may see the devastation of the nuclear blast and time and which they've done to your property.

[xykesmic-blog]

Broken Clouds, 23°C

07305

The first major challenge was the bed, and along with that how storage would fit in underneath it. Taking measurements I was relieved to note that a twin mattress would just fit in, with the tightest dimension being front to back. I'd been nervous that the dimensions might require that I extend the sleeping accommodations into the passenger seat area, which would create some problems I had for the idea of having two person variation on the configuration.

The next question was what would support the mattress. I knew I would have to do everything I could to minimize the bulk of the support structure to maximize storage space in the vehicle and minimize storage space while stored in my garage. These considerations made me decide to go with metal and after looking into the relative costs of steel vs. aluminum, I went with square steel tubes. These tubes seemed sufficiently strong to run unsupported from the head to the foot of the bed platform. I ran two 4' tubes along the walls of the car in the cargo area, a 6' tube down the center of the car, and had another two 4' tubes running across the car at the head and foot of the bed for the other tubes to rest on. For the tubes running along the walls of the car, I needed something for them to rest on near the rear doors of the car, so after some trial and error I built in some supports that were strapped to the frame of the car using the same bolt holes that are used to attach the seats. These were really tricky to get to rest solidly on a curved and sloped surface.

At this point, you might be wondering why I did that rather than just getting three 6' tubes and running all of them to the cross tubes in the front and back. This is actually part of my clever plan to not do everything perfectly the first time and to allow the armchair designers reading this something to smugly criticize. You're welcome. Obviously, I will tweak the design in that direction in the future. I'll also raise the tubes up another inch or two as I suspect that will have a disproportionately large impact on how well things store underneath it.

I also fabricated supports for the front tube and center spine tube which allows the tubes to sit into a channel that allows them to stay oriented properly and not move around much. Again, due to the malign influence of the cult of curves, the biggest challenge was getting them to rest solidly on a surface that was contoured in every direction imaginable.

On top of the supports I made the channels a little bigger than necessary and lined them with clear non-slip rubberized shelf liner to minimize movement and rattling. None of these supports are attached to the car and I have become convinced that this not really necessary given how everything ended up fitting and locking in pretty well on its own. All the tubes and supports are just set into place except the two center supports I previously mentioned. I'd worried things would shift around and/or rattle but it didn't turn out that way partly due to friction and fitted pieces playing a much bigger role than you might think. For future iterations of the design I will probably make slimmer versions of the supports, the ones I made on my first try are made of wood and are much chunkier than they need to be.

From the pictures you might notice that the tubes seem to be white. This is because I degreased them with kitchen cleaner then applied a layer of white gorilla tape. I did this for two reasons, first was to to deaden any rattling/clanking noises they might make, the other was to give them a grippier surface to help prevent them from sliding on each other or the bed decking from sliding across them. It also had the additional benefit of making them all purty and stuff.

Next up was the decking itself, that's not plywood you're seeing. I've been a landlord for a long time and have done a lot of rehab work. During the course of this I came across a material that I just love to use, PVC sheets and planks. Home depot sells planks up to 8" wide and sheets in 2'x4' and 4'x8' in 1/2" and 3/4" thicknesses (although not all stores stock them and you might have to order for pickup). It is a real pleasure to work with. It cuts great with a jigsaw, you can screw into it with no pilot holes, it doesn't need painting, it won't splinter, rot, or split, and you can shape it with everything from a plane to a pocket knife.

I ended up getting three 2'x4' 3/4" sheets. I left one of them as is and shaped the other two to fit around the wheel wells and rear lift gate. Why three and not just use one 4'x8' sheet? I wanted panels I could open more individually rather than having to lift the whole deck. Moreover I wanted smaller pieces that were easier to tuck into a corner of my garage when not in use. It also made it possible to set an uncut piece in place next to the wheel well and then scribe a line along the contours of the wheel well so I could cut it with the jigsaw. Once you have one cut, you can use that as the template to draw the line for the second one. Finally, I can't transport 4'x8' sheets in the RAV4 so I would have needed to cut it down at Home Depot.

The wheel wells are really inconvenient in many ways, but that have a benefit, they lock the rear decking in place. The two rear pieces of decking are fitted snugly against the wells so they don't shift side to side or front to back. They are also fitted against the rear hatch and against the front piece of decking, which itself is snug against the center console that nothing moves front to back. The end result of all of this is that nothing shifts or rattles, not even a little. Meanwhile the weight of the decking and the fact that it isn't moving means that enough friction is generated against the supporting grippy tubing that it doesn't move either. Everything is rock solid even without the weight of the mattress and other items on top.

On my better days I'm sometimes almost indistinguishable from someone who knows what they're doing.

Powered by Journey Diary.

[demonfox38]

Completed: Castlevania

Boy, this feels ass backwards to talk about now.

So. “Castlevania.” You might have heard me talk a little bit about this series. Might marginally be a fan, particularly of the Igavania era. But, why haven’t I talked more about the NES incarnations? After all, it’s important to experience and discuss the origins of a video game series, particularly in the face of a recent revival in interest.

I think you need to understand that when it comes to platforming games, I’m a klutz. Like, so bad that I was convinced I was bad at ALL video games until I had an epiphany regarding practice and the potential for improvement (thank you, “Star Fox 64.”) Given “Castlevania”’s status as a famous platformer, I never thought I could tackle it. Its successors trounce it in difficulty, but “Castlevania” isn’t a pushover. Luckily, a little practice and muscle memory take the fangs out of it rather quickly.

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. You don’t play old video games—you practice and preform them.

“Castlevania” is the story of the no-pants victory dance wonder Simon Belmont thigh-mastering his way up Dracula’s castle in the 1600s. Along the way, he wrecks a variety of bosses based on mythological creatures and 1930s Universal Pictures monster movies. The movie influence is particularly strong here, both in the game’s gag credits and title screen film-stock appearance. If popular NES games are based on some popular movie (i.e., “Metroid” and “Alien”, “The Legend of Zelda” and “Legend”, “Contra” and “Predator”, etc.), then this game is the moviest movie game to ever movie. It took whatever it could get its hands on and threw it into a party mix.

This wild variety of monsters is part of “Castlevania”’s staying power. Each has their own movement and attack pattern, ranging from simple horizontal navigation to erratic jumping, weaving, spitting, and teleporting. In conjunction with tricky monster placements are significant platforming threats, like mashing plates, bottomless pits, waterways, grinding gears, and stairs. So many stairs. No wonder Simon has globe-crushing thighs.  

Simon comes with a classic set of tools—the Vampire Killer whip and one of several subweapons, including a knife, an axe, holy water, a stopwatch, and a cross. (Yeah, I know the instruction manual calls it a boomerang, but just look at the damn thing. Clearly, that’s some cool application of Christianity that Bibleman can’t compete with.) Most of the subweapons cost one heart to use, with the exception of the stopwatch (which requires five.) What you want to use is completely up to you, but thanks to its stun-locking potential, the holy water tends to be the weapon of choice for many situations. It’s totally okay to experiment to see what works the best for your playstyle and what boss you’ll be facing.

The game is consistent with its subweapon and whip upgrade drops from background candles, but on occasion, subweapons and upgrades can also be dropped from defeated monsters. Additionally, the game will give you money (read: points for your score) and hearts from these candlesticks. The game is basically telling you that if there’s a fire, you should put it out. It’s what Smokey the Bear would want you to do, anyway. And are you going to get into a fight with a bear? Dracula’s bad enough.

Simon is one of those video game characters that is unique due to his physics. Like, you ever see someone bitching about Sonic the Hedgehog not running or jumping correctly? Pretty sure you can make the same argument for Simon. That’s not to say they’re stellar, by any means. Dude jumps like a bag of bricks. However, his range and the strength of his hits makes him a viable character. Learning to play him is a good step in developing video game skills at large, especially with older games.

Yes, I could compare him to a fossil. But, you can learn a lot from fossils. Like, the evolution of flight, for example! (What are you—a tree-top-down or ground-floor-up speculator?)

Aesthetically, the game has aged well. The winning element by far is the musical composition. Several tunes from this game have been picked up and repeated throughout numerous “Castlevania” games throughout the years. They’re peppy—absolutely necessary for an NES game, if you’ve ever taken a peek at their audio software. (Never want to let that triangle channel rest for long!) About the only tune that sounds indistinguishable/worse than any other incarnation is this game’s rendition of “Heart of Fire.” Like, check out this compilation on Youtube. I can hardly tell it’s the same song as the GBA variant!

Though, if you want to hear a real disaster, perhaps you should check out the Commodore 64 port of “Castlevania.” Yikes on several levels, but especially audio.

I also think the visual design looks good, especially for the time. NES sprites were allowed three colors per an 8x8 pixel block (technically four, but one color was usually dedicated for transparency.) So, earlier games would have sprites with no line art using as many colors as possible in their composition. “Castlevania” was one of the first games to dedicate a single color for linework, then using the other two available colors judiciously. Such a style helped create a sharper and cleaner appearance. This went on to be a more popular style later in the NES’ life cycle, so it’s neat to see it being used relatively early on.

Really, the one weird visual thing that trips me up is the final form of Dracula. I don’t quite get where the whole blue demon imagery comes from, in terms of other media representations that this game follows. I guess I’d chalk it up to a Japanese mythological thing. Like, if he were an oni or something.

As far as cheap difficulty goes, the game does inflict more damage to Simon as the game goes on (starting with 2 pips of damage per hit in early stages and ending with 4 pips in the final stages.) Random enemy positioning can also wreck a playthrough, particularly in the beginning of Section 4 (Stage 10) and the middle of Section 6 (Stage 17.) However, I don’t think this game is completely unfair. It does its best to get Simon’s whip back to full blast after every death, and during the final encounter with Dracula, it will place the player in front of Dracula’s door (instead of forcing them through the entire section again.) Continues are also liberal. It might not mean much in this age of save states and reloading, but it’s nice that the game doesn’t kick you right back to the title screen after a series of failures.

Overall, this game earned its legacy through its character and monster designs, its musical score, and its manageable difficulty. Even with multiple versions available across several gaming platforms, the Nintendo variant was so damn popular and influential with the NES crowd that people still keep begging for Simon’s appearance in a Smash Bros. game. (Well, that, and it would have been a laugh to have a Captain N reunion.) I would recommend giving this game a shot, especially if you’re looking to appreciate a piece of the past. If a complete klutz like myself can get through it, I’m pretty sure most people can.

[trashartandmovies]

Berlinale Film Festival 2021, Industry Event, Final Day

There was an added bonus to our originally scheduled plan for five days of press streamings. On the weekend following those five days, the winners of the Competition program would be available on Saturday, and the winners of the Encounters program would be available on Sunday. Winners from Generations and the Shorts programs would also get a second screening.

Since I’d made a point of seeing the Competition films, I decided to focus on the ones from the Encounters lineup that I hadn’t got a chance to see. (In case you’re wondering: here are the lists of award-winners for Competition, Encounters, Generations and Shorts.

First up was Lê Bảo’s Vị (TASTE), a film that cites six countries in helping with the production: Vietnam, Singapore, France, Thailand, Germany and Taiwan. It won the Special Jury Award in the Encounters program, and it’s not hard to see why. The film is legitimately striking; a bold visual poem about a Nigerian who comes to Saigon to play football, breaks his foot, and begins working a mysterious job with four middle-aged Vietnamese women. There isn’t much more plot than that, very little is explained, there’s hardly any dialog, but the film evokes a lot of different feelings through its artfully staged tableaus of bodies at motion and at rest. The color palette is severe — greys, blues, whites and rusty earth tones — but also beautiful. There is the periodic burst of sunshine that enters in through a window or doorway, and small splashes of color that come from the ingredients of the food they spend a lot of time preparing. But mostly, we’re in a chilly underground location that has little else besides a few beds and an old television.

It’s difficult to parse out the meaning of TASTE, but I’m not sure such an endeavor isn’t foolish. You could say there’s something about worker exploitation here, but if you squint and tilt your head, there could also be a message about the transcendence of work as well. Ultimately, this is an art film. It wouldn’t feel out of place in the halls of MOMA or wherever else you find eager minds for the abstract. One of the appealing things about the film is that it is freely open to interpretation and can be read in different ways. The only thing that’s for certain is that TASTE is about connections, those we make with our surroundings, our food, and those we work with. It’s about the ceremonies we create to forge those connections and help us through our days.

It’s not easy to make a film that truly feels like a dream. Sure, TASTE has a lot of unresolved mystery to it, but as a foray into dream logic, it is comfortably consistent in its mood and atmosphere. This is a plus and a minus, because TASTE is also quite effective in lulling you into a kind of heavy-lidded hypnosis. It taps into a very different part of your brain than the average movie.

The last feature film I caught up with was the newest film by Ramon Zürcher, this time co-directing and co-writing with his brother Silvan Zürcher. Ramon’s previous film, THE STRANGE LITTLE CAT, was a hit on the film festival circuit back in 2013. I still need to catch up with that one, and I will, even though I found little to enjoy in the Zürcher Brothers’ THE GIRL AND THE SPIDER.

The set-up is pretty interesting. Lisa, a young woman, is moving to a new apartment and leaving behind a few roommates. One of those roommates, Mara, isn’t taking it so well. In fact, she seems to be rather heartbroken and bitter — and maybe a little self-destructive. But mostly she seems to be intent on making barbed, passive-aggressive comments at Lisa and everyone who has the misfortune of getting close to her. You see, Mara is like a spider. She’s alluring and mysterious enough to draw you in, but once you get close, you just become trapped in her abusive mind games. As I mentioned, pretty solid set-up for a tricky, dark relationship movie. There’s something to it, and the movie kicks around the idea of lonely hurt people hurting other lonely hurt people, but we don’t get very far.

One problem is that as the movie goes on, and we meet the other roommates that Lisa is leaving behind, we start to get the idea that maybe Mara has always been this mean manipulator. Maybe her heartbreak over Lisa leaving isn’t that much of a motivator. Maybe her other roommates are also passive-aggressive emotionally damaged loose cannons. Why can’t anyone say what they mean? Must everyone be so aloof? Must every line of dialog cryptically dance around true feelings? Why must someone be eavesdropping behind a door during every other conversation? To me, it just comes across as sub-par writing. Before long, it felt like the only reason these people were talking this way was because if anyone spoke honestly the movie would be about 15 minutes long. Instead, it slowly drove me crazy over a very long 98 minutes.

Now, some of these choices are understandable. I’ve lived with roommates. I know that these situations can be passive-aggressive nightmares where no one feels comfortable enough to say what they really feel. This too, is a good set-up for a movie, with plenty of interesting angles to explore. But again, we only dance on the surface. None of the characters open up, everyone’s motivations are fuzzy. In the end, these people remain more or less as we found them. Mara comes closest to revealing a little bit about herself, but it’s all very frustrating. On a few occasions, the film takes detours, cutting away to visualize a story being told. Sometimes it involves an elderly eccentric neighbor in the building, other times it’s a fantasy about the previous owner of the piano that sits in the apartment. Immediately, the protagonists of these stories become way more compelling than the dreary twenty-somethings that we’re stuck with the rest of the time.

Aside from my issues with the writing, the movie looks great. The Zürcher’s have a good eye and they know how to observe misery while luxuriating in icy detachment like, say, Michael Haneke. There are also good rhythms going on here. From the little I know THE STRANGE LITTLE CAT, it would appear that Ramon Zürcher is still interested in capturing the details of interiors, and paying attention to the animals that are running around people’s feet. Scene’s often end with still-life portraits of items on tabletops, knocked over bottles, subtle signs of life and little punctuations upon the preceding scene. It’s a nice touch. I only wish those scenes told a more engaging story.

Thoroughly exhausted, with the last remaining hours of the streaming schedule dwindling away, there were a few award-winning shorts left to watch. Feeling like animation might be a nice change of pace, I went for EASTER EGGS, a Belgian/French/Netherlands production, written and directed by Nicolas Keppens. In some ways, it was a perfect little finale.

Even though EASTER EGGS could be a contemporary story, it feels like a tender look back, maybe some twenty years ago, at a painful teenage moment. It’s a story about two kids, Kevin the bully and Jason the enabler, and their woefully unhealthy friendship. There’s a vague plan to capture some valuable birds that were left behind when a local Chinese restaurant closed down — and there are some laughs to be had — but mostly it’s achingly sad to watch Jason pine for Kevin’s attention and approval, while Kevin just walks all over him. But given the gentle hand that this story is told with, that sadness is more poignant than depressing. Keppens shows a love and sensitivity for these characters. They’re way more than just some Belgian Beavis and Butthead. They represent something many of us have gone through in our youth — longing for friendship and someone to share your imaginative, ambitious plans with. It’s not exactly a feeling that goes away, which is why EASTER EGGS still carries a lot of weight.

Let me just add a few more thoughts to this First Round of 2021’s Berlinale Film Festival. Despite my longings for more time to spend with such a quality lineup of films, I’m impressed that everything went so smoothly. The streaming platform worked incredibly smoothly (even if it was a bummer I couldn’t cast that stream onto my TV), and the quality of the films was excellent — both in picture and sound as well as moviemaking craft. It wasn’t ideal, but it was great to be a part of. I’ll also take a sentence here to recommend visiting the Berlinale Meets page, as well as the video section, where there is an impressive collection of conversations with this year’s filmmakers for more viewing enjoyment.

While there’s a lot from this festival that I’m still hoping to see, judging from the Competition and Encounters films that I have seen, this was an exceptionally strong year for female voices and female-led stories. This was clearly one of the most impressive things about the 2021 Berlinale. PETITE MAMAN, A COP MOVIE, MEMORY BOX, I’M YOUR MAN, HERR BACHMAN, WHEEL OF FORTUNE AND FANTASY, BALAD OF A WHITE COW, BAD LUCK BANGING OR LOONEY PORN — each of these films, which are just from the Competition section, were either directed by a woman or told stories about women. In the case of WHEEL OF FORTUNE AND FANTASY, there were three stories and three female protagonists. (You could probably make a case for adding WHAT DO WE SEE WHEN WE LOOK AT THE SKY?, but I digress...) And you know what, those were the best films in the main lineup. I’ll also throw in the strong entries in the ENCOUNTERS category, Dasha Nekrasova’s THE SCARY OF SIXTY-FIRST and the best film winner of the category Alice Diop’s NOUS (WE). Personally, I especially liked the connections between PETITE MAMAN and MEMORY BOX, which both dealt with making connections between mother and daughter in unique, cinematic ways. I hope this level of representation continues in the years to come.

Now, let’s keep our fingers crossed for Part Two of the Berlinale, the Summer Special. See you June 9th.

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Feud

Feud

Game Feud là dòng game Board

Giới thiệu Feud

Feud is a turn-based strategy game made by some guys you haven't heard of yet. Originally a board game designed by Dave Cordell, it's been polished and tweaked and generally mucked about with to bring it to the glowing screen you're reading this description on. Unless you printed it out? Think of the trees. Please. CONDENSED ABSTRACT STRATEGY Imagine chess, but on a four-by-four grid, where pieces are swapped rather than moved, each piece has its own special ability and-- OK, not so much like chess. What you can expect is a highly condensed little abstract strategy game which is easy enough to learn but quite tricky to get good at. The AI still beats us sometimes. The computers are winning. Please get good at Feud so we can beat them. FREE AND CROSS-PLATFORM Feud is free to play and has full cross-platform play between Android, iOS, PC, Mac and Linux. This means you can play Feud at your boring job, then on the bus on the way home from your boring job, then on your computer at home while you recover from your boring job. Please note that we do not recommend playing Feud during your commute if you walk to work, especially if you live in a city with lots of open manhole covers which is pretty much what I imagine New York to be like. I dunno, I've never been. YOU HAVEN'T TOLD ME MUCH ABOUT THIS GAME YET, TO BE HONEST I'm not very good at this. Sorry. Anyway, look, the game's free and only a couple of hundred megabytes. You might as well, really. We've made a few small quality-of-life improvements: - Pieces now have empty health spaces to make it clearer how much health they've lost. - Animations have been sped up slightly across the board (heh, board). - We've added an option to remove the delay between AI animations.

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