#how to secure Facebook ads

[kopfconsulting]

Running Facebook ads can be a game-changer, but beware of the phishing scams that come with it. Learn how to identify fraudulent emails, protect your account, and avoid falling victim to deception. These tips will ensure your ad journey stays safe and secure.

[theabstruseone]

I slept in and just woke up, so here's what I've been able to figure out while sipping coffee:

Twitter has officially rebranded to X just a day or two after the move was announced.

The official branding is that a tweet is now called "an X", for which there are too many jokes to make.

The official account is still @twitter because someone else owns @X and they didn't reclaim the username first.

The logo is 𝕏 which is the Unicode character Unicode U+1D54F so the logo cannot be copyrighted and it is highly likely that it cannot be protected as a trademark.

Outside the visual logo, the trademark for the use of the name "X" in social media is held by Meta/Facebook, while the trademark for "X" in finance/commerce is owned by Microsoft.

The rebranding has been stopped in Japan as the term "X Japan" is trademarked by the band X JAPAN.

Elon had workers taking down the "Twitter" name from the side of the building. He did not have any permits to do this. The building owner called the cops who stopped the crew midway through so the sign just says "er".

He still plans to call his streaming and media hosting branch of the company as "Xvideo". Nobody tell him.

This man wants you to give him control over all of your financial information.

Edit to add further developments:

Yes, this is all real. Check the notes and people have pictures. I understand the skepticism because it feels like a joke, but to the best of my knowledge, everything in the above is accurate.

Microsoft also owns the trademark on X for chatting and gaming because, y'know, X-box.

The logo came from a random podcaster who tweeted it at Musk.

The act of sending a tweet is now known as "Xeet". They even added a guide for how to Xeet.

The branding change is inconsistent. Some icons have changed, some have not, and the words "tweet" and "Twitter" are still all over the place on the site.

TweetDeck is currently unaffected and I hope it's because they forgot that it exists again. The complete negligence toward that tool and just leaving it the hell alone is the only thing that makes the site usable (and some of us are stuck on there for work).

This is likely because Musk was forced out of PayPal due to a failed credit line project and because he wanted to rename the site to "X-Paypal" and eventually just to "X".

This became a big deal behind the scenes as Musk paid over $1 million for the domain X.com and wanted to rebrand the company that already had the brand awareness people were using it as a verb to "pay online" (as in "I'll paypal you the money")

X.com is not currently owned by Musk. It is held by a domain registrar (I believe GoDaddy but I'm not entirely sure). Meaning as long as he's hung onto this idea of making X Corp a thing, he couldn't be arsed to pay the $15/year domain renewal.

Bloomberg estimates the rebranding wiped between $4 to $20 billion from the valuation of Twitter due to the loss of brand awareness.

The company was already worth less than half of the $44 billion Musk paid for it in the first place, meaning this may end up a worse deal than when Yahoo bought Tumblr.

One estimation (though this is with a grain of salt) said that Twitter is three months from defaulting on its loans taken out to buy the site. Those loans were secured with Tesla stock. Meaning the bank will seize that stock and, since it won't be enough to pay the debt (since it's worth around 50-75% of what it was at the time of the loan), they can start seizing personal assets of Elon Musk including the Twitter company itself and his interest in SpaceX.

Sesame Street's official accounts mocked the rebranding.

[finchandthebard]

The "tiktok ban" should scare you and here's why.

Rant made by an autistic, history-loving, chronically online American tiktok cosplayer. Please let me know if I've gotten anything wrong and I will edit the post.

Reblog to spread awareness!

This is not just about Tiktok, and it's not about national security. The Tiktok ban is wrapped up in the "Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act" which has the ability to ban any foreign website or app that the United States government sees as a threat to their "democracy." Not only that, but if the gov't didn't want China to gather data, then they would ban things like Shein and Temu (the latter which they advertised during the Super Bowl), which collect similar data that Tiktok does. If they wanted to prevent our data being stolen in general, they would ban companies like Meta, which monetarily supports the Tiktok ban and had to change their name because "Facebook" was associated with the largest data leak in history.

The documentations of the Tiktok court interrogations prove how incompetent our government is. Repeatedly asking the TikTok CEO Mr. Chew if he's Chinese while he repeatedly assures them he's Singaporean. The officials being concerned that they can't find Singapore on a map. The officials then being confused why the app would be able to have access to their wifi because it needs wifi to load.

The possibility of the US buying Tiktok exposes a greater issue in America: monopolies. The Sherman Antitrust Act was passed in 1890 that restricted the activities of large companies known as monopolies, which started out as small companies and would either buy other companies or buy the factories which produced all their materials. This eliminated competition in the market and gave the monopolies almost full control of quality and prices of items, and it was considered very anti-American at the time. Since the US already has multiple major social medias, including Facebook (Meta), Instagram (Meta), Threads (Meta), X (formerly Twitter), Snapchat, and Reddit, adding Tiktok would mean that nobody could compete with the US in the social media market. This makes them a monopoly, and it's incredibly dangerous.

Banning Tiktok breaks several American trademarks. A) the Republicans banning Tiktok are very concerned about their second amendment right to own guns, but they seem to not care about the first amendment right to freedom of speech and press, which Tiktok delivers. Of course there are app guidelines, but for the most part you have fairly uncensored political and ethical commentary like no other social media. B) the only other countries that have banned Tiktok are either heavily demonized by America or are direct targets for American propaganda (ex. China), which really doesn't make the ban look good. C) banning a social media for the purpose of censorship is a trademark of communism, which Americans are INCREDIBLY wary of.

Your country may follow in suit. Because of America's influence as a global superpower and an ally to many other major powers, America banning Tiktok would likely lead to a domino effect in other countries.

The rich get richer. There is a concept called social darwinism, in which it is the rich's beliefs that the poor must fend for themselves without the help of the government in order to make a living - "survival of the fittest." Tiktok contributed around $14.7 billion USD in 2023 and $24.2 billion in 2024, and it supports around 224,000 jobs [source]. The actual Tiktok website says in 2023, they contributed $15 billion USD in revenue and supported 7 million US businesses [source]. Without these jobs, there could be in increase in homelessness, debt, and sickness due to withdrawals (if you're incredibly addicted to Tiktok) and lack of quick dopamine hits (due to the rapidfire nature of the algorithm).

Remember that the president is not your friend !! Many of the political figures rallying to support Tiktok right now, such as President Biden, initially voted for the ban. President Biden is likely supporting now so that Trump won't get credit for it, and future President Trump is likely doing it for brownie points among younger generations.

The Xiaohongshu migration exposed the American government and its lies. The stories from American 'Tiktok refugees' about the questions from native Chinese on the Xiaohongshu / Rednote / Redbook app (considered the Chinese mixed of Pinterest, Instagram, and Facebook) posed a lot of conspiracies and realizations about the American government. The Chinese actually own their homes, they have lower food prices than we do, and they have a slim homelessness rate. Whether this is true or not, it has greatly influenced how we see ourselves in the grand scheme of the American oligarchy, and that is not something that can be suppressed with an app being banned.

Tiktok is not totally Chinese! The CEO is Singaporean, as I've already stated, and there are multiple headquarters in the US, with the main one being in Los Angeles.

In conclusion...

Whether Tiktok is banned or not, whether permanently or not, no matter who saves it or rallies against it, remember that it is harder to scare and control someone when they are in a group. And if you think this was interesting, I'd love it if you could reblog to show some support and inform your friends as well. <3

THIS IS NOT RIGHT VS LEFT❗️IT'S UP VS DOWN❗️

[labelleizzy]

Reposting from Morgana Alba on Facebook.

It's a reality check for white US Americans that there's WORK involved in emigration or asylum.

One comment on the original post was, "we're not leaving, my husband would never, he's too attached to his family" and the reply "if that's so, you could be the point person looking after /helping manage things for someone else who's got to flee.

Another point: the assumption that folks have $$ wherewithal and physical health enough to do the process as described. I understand that's not true for all of us, but there's a few items in this list that are good for anyone to try and accomplish:

Get a passport

Get all your important documents in a safe, grabbable space

Set up power of attorney for legal matters (your home, your pets if you have to leave them behind, etc)

Research and network for a possible safe landing person or location.

Otherwise, read the list, have a good think about what might apply to your situation, and start doing your research.

....

Morgana Alba:

You need to have a plan - Actually, you need 3.

(TL/DR - get a passport, a foreign one if you qualify, and start with anything in plan B to take actionable steps today to set yourself up for success)

Just in case you should ever need to uproot your life and move out of a country, for any reason, nothing in particular: you should have 3 plans. Not options. Not ideas. Plans. And I realize not everyone as raised like I was so I’m going to tell you how to make them. (And Step 1 is to have a passport. Do that immediately)

First of all, to be a plan it needs a clear objective, identified required steps, and a trigger point. A trigger point is the deciding factor or event that will automatically activate that plan. You must decide what your lines in the sand are in advance. Historic events rarely feel historic when you’re in them and if you don’t decide what you will not accommodate before you’re in it, incrementalism will paralyze you.

For the best coverage, start with plan C and work backwards.

*****

Plan A: Leaving under the best possible circumstances.

This is where a lot of you get stuck. Leaving under the best possible circumstances is a privilege but it’s not the only way out. This takes a lot of time and research and honestly you should have started this plan a year ago if it was what you wanted. To leave via plan A you should:

1. Research what countries you can live in long term and make a living in. This could mean countries you could transfer to with your current employer, countries that are expat friendly, or countries where you qualify for a work visa. If you have living grandparents or aunts that are citizens of and living in a foreign country you may even qualify for a foreign passport. Start that process now.

2. Start learning the language

3. Apply for jobs in that country

4. Find temporary or long term housing

5. Once you have residency and financial support/employment you can sell anything you aren’t moving and leave.

Trigger point for plan A is typically finding employment for most people.

*****

Plan B: Creating the flexibility for short or long term, potentially temporary, absence

This plan is about restructuring your life so that you could leave quickly even if you don’t have the security of Plan A.

1. Determine where you could go, short term. With a U.S. passport you could stay in most countries up to 3 months as a tourist but wouldn’t be allowed to work locally. Call up friends who live abroad and see who would be ok with a long visit if need be.

2. Start selling things you don’t necessarily love. Do a clothing and items purge. If you do have to leave without plan A there may not be the time for storage and sales so start reducing possessions now while you have the time to be mindful.

3. If you own a place, consider getting a roommate or having family move in so that you may not necessarily have to sell if you have to leave. Having someone else to look after the place and the added financial cushion of rent takes a lot of the pressure off during the departure. You’d have someone back home to ship or store your stuff or sell your car if you aren’t returning but you don’t have to make that call at the time.

4. Plan your financial support. Build up savings as you sell things. Look up what jobs will qualify for a digital nomad visa in the countries you’re considering visiting friends in, and very seriously start applying for remote work that fits those restrictions. Open a non-US based bank account to hold your savings. Get a credit card for this and only this. Stick it in the back of your wallet and forget about it.

5. Hoard Medication. Build up a 3-6 month supply of any required daily medications so that you have a cushion to hold you over between leaving and finding new medical care.

6. Digitize all your vital docs, including deeds and medical files. Store them in the cloud and email them to a friend who lives abroad

7. Have a plan for pets. With plan B you may be leaving them behind if you don’t know how long you’ll be gone or where you might settle. Talk to friends and family now about who would be willing to take them in in this situation.

Plan B is about giving you the most flexibility and options. You make big changes now so that you can be prepared to react to changes around you down the road. Trigger Point for plan B is often unique to the individual and involves law changes like access to medical support or the safety of their finances/job/marriage.

*****

Plan C: Run.

This plan is a last resort. It’s easier and less scary than most people think. But you absolutely need to be ready, and you need to know, firmly, what your trigger point is. This plan is for leaving in an emergency, potentially under scrutiny and persecution, with absolutely no plan to return. You should do as much of Plan B as you can, but you can still do plan C without that prep.

1. Have a go-bag. Your go bag is a waterproof, fireproof, personal-item sized piece of luggage that lives pre-packed with your vital documents (passport, medical records, SSN card, birth certificate, marriage certificate, name change docs, any extra photo IDs etc), your medications, around $1000 in non-sequential twenties, your emergency CC, addresses, phone numbers, and info written down for who you could go visit, proof of ownership docs for your house and/or car, and a single change of utilitarian clothing. Keep a pair of sturdy boots next to it if they don’t fit in it.

2. Pack your carry on. In this bag pack your jewelry, photo albums, grandma’s ashes, etc: whatever bits of precious you couldn’t possibly abandon. You need to make those decisions now, not in the moment. This suitcase must meet the SMALLEST restrictions on carryons for international flights (often smaller than what we’re used to in the U.S., typically 22" x 14" x 9") fill any extra space with toiletries or clothing as they reduce suspicion, but don’t prioritize packing clothing or comfort items. You can get that wherever you’re going.

3. These bags live packed in a safe place near the back door of your house; or in your car.

4. Decide where to run to and have a conversation about cover. In this scenario, if your trigger point is a certain executive order, your goal is to get to airport before enforcement goes into place. You need to know where you’re going and ���why” your ticket is last minute in advance. Call up whoever is the safe person you’re running to and build the story. “Someone died suddenly” is a good one. This person needs to be ok with you showing up with 0 warning, and automatically going to the cover story if they one-day randomly get a call from a customs agent asking them to confirm why you’re traveling. If you have kids, have go bags for them as well, and only tell them the cover story.

5. Plan for your pet. Once you decide where you will run to look up what you would need to bring your pet and have those things ready to go (carrier, shot record, etc). Also plan for a situation where you have to leave your pet behind. Discuss with friends and family and get a commitment on who would take then in

6. Have a point person that is remaining behind that you trust to handle your affairs. If you have to run with no notice like this, you need someone here to sell your car, ship any possessions you need, cancel your lease, etc. Find your person and have the conversation about that now.

7. If you need to run you grab your go bags and maybe your pet carrier and you get on a plane. Use your normal bank accounts if you can, and your cash and emergency credit card if you can’t. Buy the ticket online if possible. If it has to be in person look for a visible minority ticket agent and if you’re questioned about the last-minute travel lean on the “my mother just died while visiting my aunt in France (or wherever you’re running). I have to go, I’m so distraught, taking my emotional support cat and kid cause idk when I’ll be back, there’s just so much to figure out. My Aunt has dementia. I have to get there before she does something crazy”

8. Try not to worry about what comes next. Humans have cut and run for thousands of years. You can do it. Immediate defense of life comes first. Everything else can be figured out after you’re safe. Don’t let worry over the logistics keep you in a dangerous situation.

Those are three plans you should have. But keep in mind there’s a lot of middle ground. Do as much of B as you can, and if you have to leave without a job, you can figure it out there. The place you run to doesn’t have to be where you’ll settle. You’l have more time to plan after you’re safe.

Americans have this warped idea of immigration. We believe other countries are as insanely draconian about it as we are but that’s not the case. Do your research. Make your plans. And don’t let fear of the unknown or a lack of planning keep you in danger. You can always just pack your bags and get on a plane to a friend’s place or a Sikh temple, and figure the rest of it out when you get there.

But definitely get your passport

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Ad-tech targeting is an existential threat

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me TORONTO on SUNDAY (Feb 23) at Another Story Books, and in NYC on WEDNESDAY (26 Feb) with JOHN HODGMAN. More tour dates here.

The commercial surveillance industry is almost totally unregulated. Data brokers, ad-tech, and everyone in between – they harvest, store, analyze, sell and rent every intimate, sensitive, potentially compromising fact about your life.

Late last year, I testified at a Consumer Finance Protection Bureau hearing about a proposed new rule to kill off data brokers, who are the lynchpin of the industry:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

The other witnesses were fascinating – and chilling, There was a lawyer from the AARP who explained how data-brokers would let you target ads to categories like "seniors with dementia." Then there was someone from the Pentagon, discussing how anyone could do an ad-buy targeting "people enlisted in the armed forces who have gambling problems." Sure, I thought, and you don't even need these explicit categories: if you served an ad to "people 25-40 with Ivy League/Big Ten law or political science degrees within 5 miles of Congress," you could serve an ad with a malicious payload to every Congressional staffer.

Now, that's just the data brokers. The real action is in ad-tech, a sector dominated by two giant companies, Meta and Google. These companies claim that they are better than the unregulated data-broker cowboys at the bottom of the food-chain. They say they're responsible wielders of unregulated monopoly surveillance power. Reader, they are not.

Meta has been repeatedly caught offering ad-targeting like "depressed teenagers" (great for your next incel recruiting drive):

https://www.technologyreview.com/2017/05/01/105987/is-facebook-targeting-ads-at-sad-teens/

And Google? They just keep on getting caught with both hands in the creepy commercial surveillance cookie-jar. Today, Wired's Dell Cameron and Dhruv Mehrotra report on a way to use Google to target people with chronic illnesses, people in financial distress, and national security "decision makers":

https://www.wired.com/story/google-dv360-banned-audience-segments-national-security/

Google doesn't offer these categories itself, they just allow data-brokers to assemble them and offer them for sale via Google. Just as it's possible to generate a target of "Congressional staffers" by using location and education data, it's possible to target people with chronic illnesses based on things like whether they regularly travel to clinics that treat HIV, asthma, chronic pain, etc.

Google claims that this violates their policies, and that they have best-of-breed technical measures to prevent this from happening, but when Wired asked how this data-broker was able to sell these audiences – including people in menopause, or with "chronic pain, fibromyalgia, psoriasis, arthritis, high cholesterol, and hypertension" – Google did not reply.

The data broker in the report also sold access to people based on which medications they took (including Ambien), people who abuse opioids or are recovering from opioid addiction, people with endocrine disorders, and "contractors with access to restricted US defense-related technologies."

It's easy to see how these categories could enable blackmail, spear-phishing, scams, malvertising, and many other crimes that threaten individuals, groups, and the nation as a whole. The US Office of Naval Intelligence has already published details of how "anonymous" people targeted by ads can be identified:

https://www.odni.gov/files/ODNI/documents/assessments/ODNI-Declassified-Report-on-CAI-January2022.pdf

The most amazing part is how the 33,000 targeting segments came to public light: an activist just pretended to be an ad buyer, and the data-broker sent him the whole package, no questions asked. Johnny Ryan is a brilliant Irish privacy activist with the Irish Council for Civil Liberties. He created a fake data analytics website for a company that wasn't registered anywhere, then sent out a sales query to a brokerage (the brokerage isn't identified in the piece, to prevent bad actors from using it to attack targeted categories of people).

Foreign states, including China – a favorite boogeyman of the US national security establishment – can buy Google's data and target users based on Google ad-tech stack. In the past, Chinese spies have used malvertising – serving targeted ads loaded with malware – to attack their adversaries. Chinese firms spend billions every year to target ads to Americans:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/06/business/google-meta-temu-shein.html

Google and Meta have no meaningful checks to prevent anyone from establishing a shell company that buys and targets ads with their services, and the data-brokers that feed into those services are even less well-protected against fraud and other malicious act.

All of this is only possible because Congress has failed to act on privacy since 1988. That's the year that Congress passed the Video Privacy Protection Act, which bans video store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you have at home. That's also the last time Congress passed a federal consumer privacy law:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act

The legislative history of the VPPA is telling: it was passed after a newspaper published the leaked video-rental history of a far-right judge named Robert Bork, whom Reagan hoped to elevate to the Supreme Court. Bork failed his Senate confirmation hearings, but not because of his video rentals (he actually had pretty good taste in movies). Rather, it was because he was a Nixonite criminal and virulent loudmouth racist whose record was strewn with the most disgusting nonsense imaginable).

But the leak of Bork's video-rental history gave Congress the cold grue. His video rental history wasn't embarrassing, but it sure seemed like Congress had some stuff in its video-rental records that they didn't want voters finding out about. They beat all land-speed records in making it a crime to tell anyone what kind of movies they (and we) were watching.

And that was it. For 37 years, Congress has completely failed to pass another consumer privacy law. Which is how we got here – to this moment where you can target ads to suicidal teens, gambling addicted soldiers in Minuteman silos, grannies with Alzheimer's, and every Congressional staffer on the Hill.

Some people think the problem with mass surveillance is a kind of machine-driven, automated mind-control ray. They believe the self-aggrandizing claims of tech bros to have finally perfected the elusive mind-control ray, using big data and machine learning.

But you don't need to accept these outlandish claims – which come from Big Tech's sales literature, wherein they boast to potential advertisers that surveillance ads are devastatingly effective – to understand how and why this is harmful. If you're struggling with opioid addiction and I target an ad to you for a fake cure or rehab center, I haven't brainwashed you – I've just tricked you. We don't have to believe in mind-control to believe that targeted lies can cause unlimited harms.

And those harms are indeed grave. Stein's Law predicts that "anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Congress's failure on privacy has put us all at risk – including Congress. It's only a matter of time until the commercial surveillance industry is responsible for a massive leak, targeted phishing campaign, or a ghastly national security incident involving Congress. Perhaps then we will get action.

In the meantime, the coalition of people whose problems can be blamed on the failure to update privacy law continues to grow. That coalition includes protesters whose identities were served up to cops, teenagers who were tracked to out-of-state abortion clinics, people of color who were discriminated against in hiring and lending, and anyone who's been harassed with deepfake porn:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/20/privacy-first-second-third/#malvertising

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

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

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Previous

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?" 

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down." 

"Why? You like grapes." 

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background. 

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest. 

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need." 

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect. 

"You see how that was childish?" 

"Whatever." 

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying. 

"Get that one." 

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath. 

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register." 

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes. 

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs. 

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face. 

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl. 

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that. 

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car." 

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy." 

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach. 

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary. 

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?" 

"Same time next week." 

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner. 

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?" 

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you." 

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!" 

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics. 

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy." 

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers. 

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line. 

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!" 

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake. 

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?" 

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack. 

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while." 

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off." 

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!" 

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship. 

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships." 

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn. 

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time. 

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom. 

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience." 

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines. 

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance." 

"That'd be grand." 

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron. 

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious. 

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?" 

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV. 

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space. 

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave." 

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt. 

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities. 

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket. 

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge. 

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!" 

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way. 

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe. 

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game. 

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault." 

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed. 

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience. 

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them. 

"Treece! Terry! We over here!" 

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three. 

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation. 

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?" 

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things." 

"Contract?" 

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat. 

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week." 

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?" 

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose." 

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them. 

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit." 

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot. 

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?" 

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs." 

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level." 

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult. 

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone." 

"They talk?" 

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?" 

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued. 

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it." 

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then." 

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was." 

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food. 

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world. 

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. 

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you." 

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping." 

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed. 

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world. 

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach. 

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?" 

"Of what?" 

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever 

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road. 

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again. 

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure. 

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body. 

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

[myceliacrochet]

Reblog if answer tysm!!

Urgent: North Gaza Family Starving, Hypothermic, Needs Advocacy!!!

Hala doesn't think anyone is going to fight for her and her daughters.

They're in north Gaza, which means they are dodging bullets and need hundreds of dollars a day just to get clean drinking water and a handful of moldy flour.

How awesome would it be for her to wake up this morning to funds for the first half-decent bite to eat in months?

She doesn't have the strength to write shiny little ads for her family right now. I wouldn't either.

Let's rescue them!!!!

North Gaza campaigns are extremely urgent.

As a reminder, Hala strongly prefers PayPal because it's faster.

If you use PayPal, please do us all a favor and let us know the amount you gave (in the comments, tags, whatever) so I don't have to pester Hala.

(Sometimes all the personal questions in mutual aid can be invasive, even triggering. Giving me the GoFundMe link was painful enough for her.)

However, if you'd rather use GoFundMe, that's wonderful too sugar.

Clean RIS, donation-protected, and her Facebook checks out -- see for yourself, her Facebook name is ام عبدالله.

@erectiledisfigurement @vague-humanoid @plomegranate @rainbowywitch @chronicsheepdeprivation @win-rrar @shizukateal @sweetsweethate @hexxeh @heydreamchild @knavewoods @katherinefh @variouscontent @acehimbo @butchfeygela @bisexualspeed @blvvdyindustries @monstermashpotato @wellsbering @tolbachik @akajustmerry @comrademango @superdragonjpeg-thing @afropiscesism @ihavenotfallenyet @fly-sky-high-09 @slowbrobutch @insanitysmiles @wirehairwiredstare

@everypores @pregnantseinfeld @seeyouguyslater @innovatorbunny @imjustheretotrytohelp @awetistic-things @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @sea-shame @faacethefacts @craigthetourguide @blomstermjuk @mythiedew @operationladybug @fifthnormani @disinfobot @beserkerjewel @skipppppy @okapi23 @punkitt-is-here @acehimbo @butchfeygela

[jjmcquade-misc]

How Obama Transformed the U.S. Intelligence System into an Untouchable Force

The sprawling U.S. intelligence apparatus wasn’t Barack Obama’s invention, it emerged in the wake of 9/11 under George W. Bush, who laid the groundwork with the Patriot Act and a retooled security state. But Obama didn’t just inherit this system; he refined it, expanded it, and entrenched it so deeply into the fabric of American governance that it became nearly impossible for anyone, even a president, to rein it in. His tenure marked a pivotal shift, normalizing a decentralized, privatized, and largely unaccountable intelligence leviathan. Here’s how it unfolded.

The story begins in the early 2000s, when the Bush administration responded to the September 11 attacks with sweeping surveillance powers and a new security architecture. The Patriot Act of 2001 granted agencies like the NSA and FBI unprecedented authority to monitor communications, often sidestepping traditional oversight. By the time Obama took office in 2009, this framework was already in place, but it was still raw, controversial, and subject to scrutiny. Obama’s task wasn’t to build it from scratch; it was to polish it, protect it, and make it permanent.

One of his earliest moves came in 2011, when he signed a renewal of the Patriot Act with a Democratic-controlled Congress. Rather than scaling back Bush-era policies, he leaned into them, signaling that the post-9/11 security state wasn’t a temporary overreach but a new baseline. That same year, he authorized the drone strike that killed Anwar al-Awlaki, a U.S. citizen, without judicial review—a decision rooted in a secretive “Disposition Matrix,” a kill-list system driven by CIA intelligence and insulated from external oversight. Over his presidency, Obama would greenlight over 500 drone strikes, far surpassing Bush’s tally, establishing a precedent for extrajudicial action that relied heavily on intelligence feeds.

Surveillance took a leap forward under Executive Order 12333, which Obama expanded to allow warrantless collection and sharing of raw signals intelligence (SIGINT) across federal agencies. What had once been concentrated in the NSA and FBI now seeped into every corner of the government, from the Department of Homeland Security to the Treasury. This decentralization diluted accountability, as data flowed freely between departments with little public scrutiny.

The 2013 Snowden leaks threw a spotlight on this system. Edward Snowden, a contractor for Booz Allen Hamilton working with the NSA, exposed illegal mass surveillance programs like PRISM and bulk metadata collection, revealing how deeply the government had tapped into private tech giants, Google, Facebook, Microsoft, Apple. Obama’s response was telling: he defended the programs, prosecuted whistleblowers like Snowden, and declined to hold the architects accountable. PRISM became a blueprint for a public-private surveillance partnership, unregulated by Congress, immune to FOIA requests, and beyond democratic reach. Meanwhile, the reliance on contractors like Booz Allen ballooned, by the end of his tenure, 70–80% of the intelligence budget flowed through private firms, funneling billions into an opaque ecosystem.

Obama also shielded the intelligence community from legal consequences. In 2014, the Senate’s Torture Report laid bare CIA abuses, black sites, waterboarding, and even spying on the Senate investigators themselves. Yet Obama refused to prosecute, famously urging the nation to “look forward, not backward.” This stance didn’t just protect individuals; it cemented a culture of impunity, signaling that the intelligence apparatus operated above the law.

Beyond surveillance and legal protections, Obama supercharged the bureaucracy. The Office of the Director of National Intelligence (ODNI), created under Bush, gained sweeping coordination powers under his watch, but rather than centralizing control, it added layers of insulation between the president and field operations. He also empowered hybrid units like Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) and CIA task forces, which blended military and intelligence functions. These shadowy outfits operated in dozens of countries with lethal authority, secretive chains of command, and minimal oversight from Congress or even their own headquarters.

By 2017, as his presidency wound down, Obama made a final play: he authorized a rule change allowing the NSA to share raw, unfiltered data with 16 other intelligence agencies, stripping away privacy safeguards. This move ensured that the system he’d built could hum along without presidential intervention, its reach embedded in local “fusion centers,” secret courts, and corporate data pipelines.

The outcome was staggering. By the time Obama left office, the intelligence network spanned 17 agencies, leaned heavily on unaccountable contractors, and fused with private tech infrastructure. It wasn’t just bigger, it was untouchable, legalized through executive loopholes and shielded from reform. Obama became the first president to weave intelligence into every layer of government, from foreign policy to law enforcement, but in doing so, he relinquished control. The republic did too. No future leader would easily dismantle this machine, not because it was too strong, but because it had become too diffuse, too ingrained, too essential to the modern state. Obama's Intelligence Policy

[moonlight-records]

Secret Santa| MS36 (HAC #11)

pairing: ms36 x reader

summary: Mercedes is doing secret santa for their holiday party which is fine, typically. What happens when by some stroke of luck, you get your long time crush?

warning: fluff!

fc: none!

wc: 1.5k

a/n: day 11 of moonlight records holiday advent calendar!

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 |day 10 | current day | day 12

“...The limit for gifts is £100. Once again, this does not mean you need to spend £100 on a gift but if you want to buy something a bit more expensive you can.” Toto continues on. You, by some miracle, tune your boss out as you look back down at the folded piece of paper in your hand. It feels like it’s burning into your skin as you watch Toto drone on about the rules of secret Santa. 

“Finally,” you’ve never been more excited to hear those words leave your boss’ mouth, “do not share who you got for secret Santa!” Toto explains before staring at all of you and gesturing, “open them.”

You watch all your co-workers around you start opening their pieces of paper. All of them, in their own form, are tucking themselves away to read the name and you simply look down at yours before finally opening it. 

Mick Schumacher.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper with wide eyes looking at the paper. It was only your work’s secret Santa but you had to get it right. How else were you supposed to try and impress your crush if you didn’t nail Secret Santa right.

Sitting in the factory parking lot, you browsed your phone frantically searching for anything at this point. The party was tomorrow and everyone was raving about how good their presents were and you had nothing.

Somehow three weeks flew by and you still hadn’t bought your secret Santa present. You had found a lot of potential gifts but nothing really screamed Mick and it was driving you nuts since this was all you thought about when you weren’t at work. For fuck sake, you finished your holiday shopping for all your friends and family while trying to find the perfect Mick for gift but anytime you didn’t have money or the excuse, you could always find something for Mick. You were starting to accept the fact that you were going to botch this one attempt with Mick and make a fool of yourself in front of him.

Hitting your head gently against the headrest you sigh softly. Looking back at your phone, you refresh Facebook Marketplace and scroll through before seeing it. Your eyes widen as you read an ad before putting your phone into your cup holder. You start your car and you’re off. 

You manage to get to the location in 30 minutes. Getting out, you make your way into the building and talk to the first worker that’s available. You explain your situation and how your secret would absolutely love this and take such great care and has so many already but they’re with his family and how he’s been always talking about one. After a lot of paperwork and talking, you finally secure the gift. Getting your gift carefully in the passenger seat, you thank the worker once again before climbing into the driver seat and heading to the store to get a few last minute things to make a little basket for this gift before heading home.

You’re up late building your basket. Taking a step back, you smile at your hard work and how it’ll finally pay off. “Perfect.” You say aloud before laying down on the couch, too tired to make it to bed as you happily drift off to sleep, excited for tomorrow.

To say that everyone was more excited about the holiday party than anything else was an understatement. Honestly, it was a miracle that Toto didn’t get so annoyed at the entire company for horribly pretending they were working. It seems that the factory did annoy him enough that he had everyone go home early to get ready for the party. You thank Toto as you leave the factory before going home and changing for the party. 

You check yourself over and brush your red dress of little fuzzes that got on it. Putting your tights on, you slip some spandex on before your boots before gathering everything and packing the car. Coming back, you carefully grab your present and make your way back to the factory for the party. You park and grab your gift as you head inside, thanking a coworker who held the door open for you and find a table that’s tucked away closer to a corner and put your gift down, admiring how fast Toto and some workers decorated the factory. 

As more people arrive, the more lively it becomes before the party is in full swing. You have a drink in hand as you talk to some of your co-workers, occasionally glancing back at your gift that’s still resting on the chair. When you’re not overly anxious about your gift, your gaze finds its way to Mick and you can’t help but admire him. A stupid love sick smile appears on your face before his eyes meet yours and he smiles at you. You blink before smiling back, shyly waving before glancing away as your face burns in embarrassment. You look back and see Mick excusing himself from a conversation with Lewis and Bono as he starts making his way over to you.

Shit.

You brace yourself to embarrass yourself before Toto is loudly calling for everyone’s attention and everyone freezes to listen to Toto. You feel relief run through you but it’s short lived as he announces that dinner will be ready in a few moments so while everyone waits, they can finally exchange their gifts. You stand frozen as everyone erupts into chatter, zooming around to find their secret Santa. You turn to look at your gift before there’s a tap on your shoulder before turning and blinking. “Mick!” You were sure as hell he would’ve gone to find his secret Santa. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mick smiles. He glances down at the box he’s holding, fidgeting with it slightly, “so um.” He offers the box to you a bit more rigid than he wanted and winces internally, “for you.”

“Me?” You ask, surprise, as you take it. “I–I was your secret Santa?”

“Yeah. Which–works because…” Mick’s voice trails off as you carefully untie the ribbon. You glance up seeing Mick shift anxiously before looking back down and opening the box slowly and gasping. Inside the box was a gold jewelry set. Simple gold hoop earrings along with a gold necklace that had your initials on a charm with hearts surrounding them. “Oh Mick,” you whisper after finding your breath again. Looking at him you’re smiling wide. “It’s beautiful. Oh–thank you so much. I’m. I’m truly at a loss for words with how beautiful it is–”

“Then go on a date with me? Please?” Mick blurts out.

“What?” You look at Mick. 

You’re both staring at each other with wide eyes. You’re staring in disbelief because you don’t think you heard Mick right and Mick’s staring at you with a sheepish smile because it seems that this wasn’t exactly how he wanted to ask you. “Me?” You point to yourself. “You.” Pointing to Mick, “a date?”

“Yeah. If you want, which I really hope you do. Though it’s totally fine if you don’t!” Mick says quickly, “might make things awkward. I don’t really want it to be but that’s also fine and–”

“Mick!” You finally cut him off. “I would love to go on a date with you!”

“Really?!”

Nodding excitedly, “yes!”

“Great!” Mick beams as he follows you to your seat. He’s rambling off date ideas before stopping when his eyes fall onto your gift basket. “Oh! Did you make this? This is so cute! Who’s it for?”

“You.” 

It’s Mick’s turn to be surprised as he points to himself. “Me? You had me for secret Santa?” He laughs when you nod, “Well, what are the odds of that?” He goes to pick it up but stops when you gently put your arm out and instruct him to just open it. He raises a brow but he does slowly before gasping and covering his mouth. “Oh my god. Y/N–are you serious?” He stares at you in awe before turning back to the sleepy Saint Bernard puppy who’s in the middle of a yawn as she looks up. She immediately wiggles in Mick’s gentle hold before cuddling into his chest and wagging her tail. “Y/N I–I don’t know what to say. How did you–”

“No kill shelter that was already overflowing. Someone had brought this litter in and given them away for free. I found the ad at the last second and the little girl was one of three left. It took a very long conversation and many pictures of you and your family dog for them to agree but they did. Completely free so I really spent all the money on stuff you’d need for her.” You gesture to the basket. 

“Y/N, this is the best present anybody could have gotten me.” Mick says earnestly, “I really don’t know what to say or how to thank you–”

“Maybe we could have dinner at your place and do some training with this girl,” you explain while petting the pup, “and we could call that our first date, yeah?” Mick looks up from his cooing and gushing over the pup. “Deal.” 

[sgiandubh]

Last minute Swifties

Contrary to what many thought and some posted, I do think the OL cast's Taylor Swift experience was a last minute promo idea, very much monitored by *** and Tall Ships. I was wrong about minder/security guy (still, eerie...) and I never have a problem publicly admitting it. But quite unlikely I am wrong about this one. And sorry for the length, but you know how I am when I am looking for something, right?

Let's unpack: cast thanked the 'organizers' (and minders, really) in very specific terms, leaving NO much doubt:

Louisa McCulloch. Remember this name, we shall meet her in one hot minute. So thank you Louisa and Maril for organizing this: ask yourselves why did Maril, who (as far as I know) is based in the US, have to come to Edinburgh just for the gig. Damage control, perhaps?

And Sophie S., with a remarkable choice of words:

'Thank you ***, TS and her team for making it happen'. In my book, this means a strong, common effort to secure the box last minute. Because 'making it happen' means exactly that: 'need to do everything you can to facilitate it'.

Clearly Skelton, who is a Swiftie in her own right, was particularly appreciative of the efforts it took to ensure everyone could attend the concert. If that were a long planned event, her enthusiasm would have been more temperate, I think. 'Adding more Swifties to the clan' - LOL, Sophie, you mean S and C had no idea of the lyrics and were unable to sing along with you, John Bell, Izzy and Co (I keep forgetting their names and I like them a lot, in the show)? People of my generation are already too damn old for Taylor S. And this different sort of music might be more of S's real preference: otherwise why post it in his stories, as if to say ' TS is a different thing altogether'?

James. A Manchester rock band, formed in 1982, popular in the Nineties. I see no lies: he was clear 'JAMMF is a Swiftie'. And we are, after all, Children of the Nineties, not TS's crowd. And yes, I knew S was into the same kind of music as I was, in the Nineties (he seems to have stayed put, right there, unlike me, LOL):

Anyways, back to the mysterious woman up and front on three pictures in a row, that got many speculating. Nope, that was not Wendy, the MUA and S's bestie:

Once...

... Twice...

... Three times a lady:

Her name is Louisa McCulloch, née Radcliffe and she is the one S thanked, along with Maril (see above). It was a bit hard finding her, because her IG account is private. But I found her alright on Facebook, and then LinkedIn (of course):

Based in Lockerbie, Scotland. 20 years experience as a media publicist:

Worked with *** and Tall Ships since Season 3, after a short stint as Head of Publicity at the Paramount Pictures London Office. Got promoted from Unit Publicist to Publicist during COVID, for Season 6. So yes, she is the one who made it happen, locally, on what I think was a quite short notice.

Attention successfully diverted. Impeccable timing and giving a younger crowd what it wants. Trying to capitalize on TS's huge Instagram fan base: 283 million followers (wow! I had no fucking idea she was so huge). A win-win situation for just about everyone and an elegant way out from sordid waters:

And it worked. Lost among the hundred of thousands of likes and comments, look who's jumping on the bandwagon:

Sharon Stone. With a Blue Check and her 3.9 million Instagram fanbase. A Nineties deity, need I remind you (this blogger spotted her during the Berlinale 2007, while I was going out for drinks, blissfully unaware we were all staying at The Adlon, LOL)?

They mutually follow each other on Insta, by the way. I wonder why *urv did not pounce on that one. I feel robbed, for once, of a wonderful fanfic.

[Later edit] Several comments take on this person without a proper justification. I am editing this post to remind you she is only responsible for the implementation (in Scotland) of decisions taken elsewhere (in the United States of America). She is NOT a decision maker and as Publicist, was probably responsible for the local implementation of a hasty decision to attend an event (secure VIP box at Murrayfield, sell content to the local press). The direct contact with TS's team was, very likely, Maril and upwards, in the hierarchy. In all fairness, she has nothing to do with a billboard spotted in Los Angeles, USA - nothing of the sort in Europe. I am all for taxing, but let's tax people who are really RESPONSIBLE: she is just a very well paid underling. Thank you all, I am sure you understand fairness can only add to our credibility as a group.

[bevanne46]

How to Build a Fabric Stash without Breaking the Bank

Fabric can be expensive but it doesn’t have to be.  If you are not stuck on Name Brands or Specialty Fabric Store Exclusives here are some ways to build your fabric stash without costing an arm and a leg. I have made many beautiful quilts using various fabrics from various supplies. And I believe that the quality is not just in the fabric you use but also in your stitch work and seams sizes. If your seams are less than a ¼” they will not hold (personally I prefer to use a ½” seam allowance). If you are not securing your thread ends, your stitch work is going to come undone. So be sure to watch these things too.

Look for fabric at your local Thrift Store (Goodwill, Value Village, etc.)

I have found some wonderful fabrics in various sizes, notions, storage items and more at my local Thrift Stores. I have even found unfinished quilt tops that I have brought home and added a backing to then quilted. Remember that almost any size fabric remnant can be added to other remnants to make some wonderful scrappy quilts so save your own remnants after making a quilt, you may be able to use it later in another quilt.

Look for local Fabric Sales held by Quilting Guilds in Your Area.

We have 2 near me every summer.One charges $2 per pound for any fabric. The second one charges $2 per yard for any fabric. Both also sell batting, notions, books, machines, tools, and more.

Look for fabric on Facebook Marketplace, Nextdoor and other sites.

I sell extra fabric on Marketplace and Nextdoor. I have also found several ladies near me selling fabric that I have purchased. And some I have purchased with shipping to me.

Look for older 100% Cotton Sheets at your local Thrift Stores.

Back in the 1800’s and early 1900’s, Quilts were not show pieces. They were real functional blankets that were made from any and all fabrics they could get, usually used clothing. I think there is no reason why we cannot still do that instead of buying expensive fabrics. I have often used clothing, sheets, curtains, and other linens to make some wonderful, usable quilts. And there are some wonderful patterns you can use for quilts in bedsheets from the 1980’s and 1990’s. Note: I always wash anything from a Thrift Store before I use it.

Watch for Fabric Sales and Coupons for Joanns, Hobby Lobby and other Fabric & Craft Stores.

I know some quilters believe that the fabric from Joanns & Hobby Lobby is poor quality but I have not found any bad fabric from these stores.  We do not have a “Quilting” store close to me and because I’m handicapped, I will not drive an hour or more just to buy expensive fabric.  If I did that, I wouldn’t be able to afford to quilt.  I will also buy fabric from Walmart but I am more careful with my selection there as most fabric at Walmart is good but I have had one or two pieces that I felt were poorer quality.

Watch for Fabric Sales and Coupons for your Local Quilt Shop.

Quilt shops will also have occasional sales and/or coupons so if you prefer to shop at these locations take notice of when they have sales. Also ask if they ever give discounts to seniors or military.

Use New or Older Clothing.

I have made a lot of beautiful Memorial Quilts from a loved one’s clothing and T-Shirt quilts. I will use jeans, work shirts, uniforms, flannel, cotton, polyester and even some knits.  These can be a little trickier to work with because they are often stretchy fabrics but they will add a wonderful texture and visual variance to your quilts.  I recently found a pair of cotton pants with Mickey Mouse on them. I fell in love with them because they were so colorful, and I love bold colors. I found several other cotton fabrics that matched the colors in the Mickey pants and made a bold colorful quilt!

Rethink Your Backing Fabric

No one ever said your quilt backing had to be all New Cotton. You can use Fleece, Flannel or Bed Sheets as well. On many occasions I have found some wonderful fleece blankets on clearance and used these for my quilt backing.  Joanns right now has a great clearance sale on Flannel fabric. The best part about using some of these is that you can get then in a wider width so you may be able to make your backing in all one piece instead of 2 or more like when using regular cotton (unless you want your backing to be in various colors/patterns).  You can also use new or older cotton bed sheets for a quilt backing. Again, you can make your quilt backing in one solid piece with a sheet!

Check the Clearance Section for Your Favorite On-Line Stores

I have several on-lines stores that I love to shop from (e-Quilter, Missouri Star, etc.) but sometimes they can be expensive so I always check the clearance section of these stores. There are times I will find some beautiful fabrics on clearance so will purchase it then look for matching piece everywhere else so I can get the best deals. Also check for on-line sales from Joanns, Hobby Lobby and other on-lines stores that sell fabric and/or sheets.

Check Out Your Local Garage, Moving and Estate Sales

I have found some of the best deals at moving and estate sales because often the seller is willing to bargain with you. I once found an estate sale where a family was selling off all their mother’s quilting and sewing items because she had passed away and none of then sewed. There was more fabric and notions than I would have used in a year so I found lots of thread and items I purchased at a great price.

Note on Batting

I know that many quilters believe that the only batting you should use is expensive cotton batting. I disagree.  There are many forms of batting. Cotton/Poly blends, Polyester, and Fleece. I love cotton batting but cotton will break down quicker than polyester and I want my quilts to last a lifetime so for most of my quilts I actually use Polyester more often than not. I have taken the backing off many older quilts to do repair work and the cotton batting inside was all balled up and a real mess.

Now when I am doing the Quilt-as-you-Go method I use a Fleece batting. The fleece can be cut into smaller pieces, fabric added to the top and then sewn back together to make wonderful quilts. And the batting doesn’t get stuck in my machine.

Shop Around for your batting to find the best deals. Sometimes Joanns has a sale on batting but the best price I have found so far has been Walmart on-line.  I can buy a 96” x 9 yard Bolt of Poly Batting for just $30 on Walmart on-line. This bolt will make 4+ quilts depending on the size of the quilt and I will have lots of left overs for smaller projects like pillows, etc.  For me the best part is that because it’s 96” wide, I don’t have to piece together my batting before I can sandwich my quilt!

[italianexotiicbeauty]

this is goodbye.

[ this will be inevitably the last post you see from me. due to mental health reasons and the political state of things within the united states, i am uncertain how much longer I will be able to afford to be around. ]

[ i have been TRYING very hard to find a job, so that my mother who is partly retired doesn't have to find a second one. I have signed up for workforce alliance ( otherwise known as the department of labor ). I am taking skill courses through cursa to gain certification in areas that employers would look at and maybe consider me as a candidate. to say it's been hard wouldn't be an understatement, I have been crying a LOT. Feeling like a burden, a failure — and I can't make anyone understand the situation we're unfortunately in. ]

[ I am very scared we're possibly going to become homeless. That we will not be able to afford the bills, or car insurance. Hell, we struggle so badly financially that someone else has to pay our rent. We cannot count on “family” because alls they do is hold it over our heads. With the health situation of my mother she cannot afford to be without extra income … she also cannot fully retire because she has no nest egg. If you're unaware, social security wasn't meant to fully sustain a retired individual — which is why 401ks and/or pensions exist. And when you have NEITHER of those, you have no choice but to keep working even part time. ]

[ anyway. ]

[ you made it this far. you don't have to keep following me since I will no longer be writing on this account or the side blog. I will clear out drafts and turn off the ask box. Discord is an option obviously if you already have me added — you can message me here, if that's the only communication format we have. There's also email — goddessflackitty@gmail.com ( if you prefer ). I no longer use WhatsApp or Facebook, I've long since removed the apps for Bluesky & Instagram from my phone due to doom scrolling and how unhealthy it is for me. ]

[ I am so very sorry to anyone that was looking forward to continuing or starting something with me — but I just cannot do this anymore. ]

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Marriage worthy (fem-ish flavor)

masc(ish) version

Barbie dolls: Regulus x reader

Words: 2.2k-ish

Summary: your parents force a wedding on you but at the alter you realize what you want

Warnings: You’re in a wedding dress and are forced to marry a man via your parents but I only use gn prounouns for you, regulus is a hater, aged up a little, allusions to not amazing parents, ebay and facebook marketplace mentioned, you ride in a taxi, i think thats it dude

A/n: this wedding has the wedding traditions and set up that I grew up with ie Christian wedding again I understand that other cultures have other traditions but that is not represented in this fic this is by no means a hateful “my culture is the only right culture” type thing I'm just writing what I know everybody’s culture is beautiful thanks for coming to my ted talk

You weren’t sure if you considered yourself the marrying type. Your parents felt differently apparently. You were enjoying the simplicity of your single life, and a few weeks later your parents were informing you of your fiancé. Your wedding was being planned in front of you and you didn’t even know the groom. When your parents were making the quest list, they added your best friend. You thought about this for barely a couple of minutes before scratching out his name. You appreciated Regulus but he was the type of person to speak his mind. Loudly at that.

Once you told him about a friend who wasn’t treating you in the best of ways, but you still loved them. Unfortunately, they ran into you and Regulus at the store. Regulus glared at them the entire time and then finally called them a couple of unfortunate names.

So you doubted he would stay silent at the wedding you didn’t even want. You imagined him sulking in the front row, leaning over to whisper to the person next to him about how much this guy sucked.

“Can’t even match his socks to his tie, embarrassing.”

“Oh god he can’t find his vows, I wonder if he wrote any at all. Have I told you, I’m a published poet? Yeah, four books under my belt.”

“Kind and caring? That’s all he’s got? They’re more than that. They’re the rising sun and setting moon, They’re the oxygen filling our lungs, They’re-“

“Oh thank Godric, they got to my favorite part- I object!”

You could see him jumping out of his seat, a hand in the air. Regulus would object the second he was given the moment of silence. He’d probably walk all the way to the alter, grab onto your arm, and escort you outside himself, insulting the groom on the way out.

It might’ve been a little selfish to remove Regulus from the guest list. It’ll probably hurt him when he finds out but that will give him material for his fifth book. You’ll explain yourself. You’ll probably write him a letter from your honeymoon destination, explaining everything and giving extra treats to your owl for a speedy delivery. That’ll be an odd conversation to have with your new husband.

“Sorry darling my pants are staying on, I have to write a letter to my best friend.” Well, scratch that, you’ll write him a letter as soon as you get a minute to yourself… on your honeymoon? Well, maybe you’ll send him a box of cookies as an extra apology for his explanation having such a long waiting period.

Time moved swiftly as the planning became more erratic. Your parents seemed to have decided waiting for the next season was stupid. They’d much rather have your wedding yesterday than wait. In two shakes of a lamb's tail, you were being buttoned into a white gown. You didn’t feel right. Maybe this was the classic cold feet feeling but every time you blinked you seemed to be nowhere near where you started. You would be in front of the mirror and seconds later you were standing outside the double doors about to walk down the aisle. You didn’t remember saying half of your vowels though you felt secure in your assumption that they were monotone. With your hands in his and the priest beside you talking, you looked at the rows and rows of family members.

Some of which you hadn’t seen in what felt like centuries. You scanned the seat looking for someone you recognized. You reached the end of the row without seeing anyone properly. You closed your eyes as you listened to your fiancé, soon-to-be husband, repeat the priest. You squeezed Regulus’ hands tighter. You felt the corners of your lips twitch for a second before you slowly opened your eyes. Your slight smile fell when you realized you weren’t holding onto your best friend’s hands at all.

You glanced around, remembering exactly where you were. You felt you had just been dunked in cold water waking you from your sleep.

“Do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" The priest seemed as bored as you, his tone hollow and flat. You stayed silent, your mind catching up with the lots of information you just caught. Why would you wish you were holding onto Regulus’ hands at the altar if you were just friends? How long have you felt like this? Does this priest even know your name? How much was he paid? Could you sell this dress on eBay? Facebook marketplace? You heard mutters pass over the crowd of spectators. Your fiancé squeezed your hands while muttering your name. He kept repeating it but it faded into the background like the ocean rocking your body.

“I don’t want this?” You whispered. As you talked mostly to yourself, you remembered you had free will. You laughed as you pulled your hands away from this nameless man. You reached behind your head and yanked the veil from your hair. You dropped it on the floor, turning towards the crowd.

“I don’t want this.” You said, though this time you were sturdy. You knew what you wanted and it had nothing to do with this chapel. You pulled at the end of the dress before starting off towards the front doors. You noticed people in the rows standing up and you were certain you heard someone sounding easily similar to your mother yelling at you. You weren’t entirely certain where you were but you had a feeling your heart would lead you in the right direction.

Your heart failed you. You actually had to hail a taxi, and you were quite happy you memorized Regulus’ address and had pockets with money. The taxi driver seemed amused that they had picked up a runaway bride.

“What happened to the groom, sleep with the bridesmaid?” They asked, glancing back at you through the Reidveiw mirror. You laughed awkwardly.

“No. As it turns out I love another man. It appears I prefer obnoxious published poets with the fashion sense of a funeral director.” The taxi driver sighed deeply. You Looked out the window, wondering what they were probably doing back at the alter. Do you disperse? Head towards the open bar? You imagined your one aunt who you were certain lived 9 lives herself, swinging her purse over her shoulder and leaving without a second thought. She seemed to root for nobody and everyone all at the same time. You paid the driver and sprinted up the stairs of Regulus’ house. You knocked on his front door rapidly, ringing the door as you stepped back.

You heard Regulus groan behind the door before it opened a crack the chain stopping it. Once he saw you the door slammed again. You heard the chain smack back against the wall before the door opened again. Regulus stared at you with wide eyes. He took you all in, pausing at the massive white bow on your dress. you felt your shoulders relax when you saw him, letting out a sigh.

“I see you’ve had a busy few weeks.” You glanced down at your outfit, raising your hands and slapping them against the material.

“Yeah, I uh, I was going to send you a letter. I was getting married but I realized something while I was holding that guy's hands-“ Regulus cut off your explanation. He made a disgusted face, flapping his hand in the air.

“Oh Godric, you do not need to tell me what you were doing with your- what fiancé? Husband?” Regulus said, smacking his lips like the word fiancé left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Regulus, Shut up. Let me talk. As I was at that altar, every time I closed my eyes I realized I was begging for it to be you standing in front of me in a tux, not that other guy.” You probably looked a little crazy, drowning in white waving your hands around erratically like it would make your declaration a little less out of pocket. Regulus grimaced.

“It took a wedding for you to realize I might be more desirable than some random guy? Ouch.” Regulus rested his hand over his heart like you struck him. You shook your head.

“No. It took me a wedding to realize I'm in love with you, Regulus.” You stared at Regulus, taking in every slight movement in his face to catch if there was any rejection there. Regulus seemed to stop breathing, his eyes glazing over. You pressed your lips together. Is this really the guy you wanted? You tried to calculate if his reaction was a severe case of rejection or stupidity.

“So please just tell me if you feel even an ounce of the same. If you don't say that, I'll run all the way back to that chapel. I'll marry that guy, we'll go on our honeymoon, in a couple of years we'll have 2.5 kids named Taylor, Brayden, and the one on the way will be Raighleighn and-“ Regulus brought himself back to life with a fast breath. He cut off your irrational speech.

“Is that what you want?” You stared at him, blinking away your confusion. Regulus kept his face stoic, giving you no clue if he was being serious or not. You furrowed your eyebrows. He sensed your confusion, adding details to his question. “Is what you want 2.5 kids named Taylor, Brandon, and Raylen?” You pulled back, shrugging one shoulder up to your ear.

“Brayden and Raighleighn.” You corrected, quietly. Regulus tsked, glaring at you. You tilted your head to the side, egging him on just a little.

“Sorry, I don't have a perfect memory for the names of your hypothetical kids,” Regulus said while dramatically rolling his eyes. You decided to ignore his retort, bouncing back to his last question.

“Why on earth would I ditch my wedding, leaving hundreds of guests to fend for themselves, if the man I wanted was at the altar? Regulus, I want you. Granted I realized this less than thirty minutes ago so I’m not entirely sure how much of our friendship I’ve been harboring these feelings, but I understand they’re strong. I want to cook dinner with you. I want my toothbrush next to yours. I want my closet to have your clothes too. I want to fold our laundry together.”

“I’d probably have Kreacher do that, with proper care of course. He'd be employed not enslaved if that-” Regulus started rambling, letting go of the door to gesture with his hands properly. You groaned. You loved listening to Regulus ramble whether it was about his violin music or some observe book that really seemed to push his buttons but now was not the time. You were standing on his front doorstep professing your love for him and he was telling you about his activism. You agreed with him, of course, but time and place.

“Godric, Regulus are you going to kiss me or not? Are we something that could happen or should I start running now?” You stared at him as he shook his head like his thoughts of Kreacher could fly out his ears.

“Right, yeah.” Regulus pushed himself off the door, stepping into your space. He gently pulled you forward. His breath warmed your face, you caught hints of his favorite tea. You leaned forward, meeting him in the middle. His kiss was gentle like he still wasn’t entirely sure if this wasn’t a dream. Regulus pulled back before you wish he did. You kept your eyes closed just a little extra second. If you opened your eyes and you were still at the chapel, you’d be married to a man you just met. You felt Regulus’ thumb stroking your cheekbone, silently begging you to open your eyes. You grinned, your almost-husband wouldn’t touch you as gently as Regulus did. You met Regulus’ eyes. He was smiling back at you, granted it was small but that’s not the point. You fiddled with the buttons on his black shirt.

“I made extra dinner if you’d like to join me,” Regulus muttered, jumping over the kiss to talk about a mundane topic. You’ve shared dinner hundreds of times. You were glad after all the chaos of today you could easily return your dear Regulus and join him at his table like it was any other day.

“Mm you know I think my schedule might be a little packed, I do have a honeymoon to get to.” You muttered. Regulus groaned, stepping away from you. He pushed your shoulder towards his door, stepping out of the way. You tugged up your tulle-filled dress.

“While we’re still on the topic, what was your fiancé’s name?” Regulus asked, moving behind you to pick up your train. You gave him a confused look over your shoulder.

“Why?”

“I want it to be the title of my next poem,” Regulus said, helping you sit in his dark wooden chairs, throwing the white material in your lap when his timer went off. You laughed at him as he returned to the oven. He made you both a plate, settling one in front of you.

While you sat next to Regulus at his table in your stupid wedding dress, you thanked the stars for reminding you of free will seconds before you had to say I do.

[fashion-foxy]

EAH Not Server Based Game but kinda Sorta Server Based Game update 26/4/2025

I've been working on getting the game playable for 8 months. Here's what I've figured out since I last did an update post:

OK, so a complete (?) list of reasons the game doesn't work:

It's trying to connect to YouTube's API to play videos in the game. YouTube has been updated a couple of times since 2015, so much like trying to talk to your former best friend at your high-school reunion, neither of you has any idea how to connect to each other.

It's trying to connect to Facebook's API so it can save/log in data. Facebook isn't even called Facebook anymore, so again, it's freaking out

It's trying to connect to Google+ to log in/save data. Google+ doesn't exist anymore

And the biggest problem: A majority of the app is built on the assumption that you have GMS installed. This is a fair assumption. So, why is it in the problem category?

Well,

GMS (Google Mobile Services) is a fun bundle of APKs that come pre-installed on most Android devices. This basically means that if you go down to Best Buy and pick up a Google Pixel 9, it'll have hidden system apps on it that basically handle things like notifications or, say, wifi connectivity. So, if you're a mobile developer and decide you'd really like to have your app send notifications to user, but you don't want to reinvent the metaphorical wheel of sending notifications, you just have your app talk to the system apps already on your user's phone and tell them to send notifications.

Now you may see where I'm going with this.

GMS is just a collection of APKs, and APKs need to be replaced with a different one if you want to update it. Naturally, Google really wants to update the structure a majority of Android apps function on for security or to collect more data on Android users.

The eah game is running on the assumption that GMS from a decade is installed on the user's device. And it's not just in charge of ads, microtranactions, notifications, or logging in. IT'S RESPONIBLE FOR GESTURES AND SEVERAL EVENT TRIGGERS AND ANIMATIONS.

In the games' current state, to get basic functions working like responding to tapping the screen and loading mini games, we need GMS from about a decade ago.

To get the game working, there are 2 options:

Just kinda start launching the version of the game that works the best with different versions of Jellybean (Android 5) era GMS APKs installed and hope of them works

Rebuild the game to not rely on any GMS or modern GMS

Can you guess which one I'm gonna try first?

(Sidenote, I'm very adverse to completely rebuilding the games because 1, that'd be a giant project, and 2, I want to keep as much of the original game intact as possible.)

[labelleizzy]

From Robin Alperstein on Facebook:

Listening to Senator Cory Booker, who has held the Senate floor for the last 16-plus hours to discuss in detail the manifold devastation and havoc to people's lives and the economy and the rule of law that TrumpMAGAMusk GOP is inflicting, I am struck by his exchanges with his fellow senators in which they ask questions and he responds with clarity and little evidence of the exhaustion he must feel.

Booker, together with Schumer, is pointing out that not one of the cuts to Medicaid or other programs that DOGE and Trump are making has done a thing or is intended to do do anything for efficiency; there is no studying, no expertise, no examination of whether there will actually be any "efficiencies" or on the effects of their cuts on people's lives or on what these agencies and programs and departments actually do. Booker and Schumer give examples of that devastation, quoting from actual constituents in REPUBLICAN districts. Not only will millions of people lose their health care, the Medicaid cuts will cause closures of hospitals in rural neighborhoods, in middle class neighborhoods, and even upper class neighborhoods. People in nursing homes will have nowhere to go.

Schumer points out the specific number of jobs that will be lost and people who will lose their health care in Staten Island (voted for Trump) and parts of Long Island (voted for Trump) and the Bronx, and how those cuts will end up hurting hospitals and people in neighboring areas, and then highlights that if the 3 Republican House members in each of those SI and LI districts would break with their party to protect their constituents instead of hurting them, we would not be here. And they both point out it is all about making sure Musk and others wealthy like him pay no or almost no taxes, adding TRILLIONS to the deficit: Americans are going to DIE so that people who don't need more money can have even more.

That's just one example. Elizabeth Warren is now speaking with Booker, explaining that Social Security isn't a "gift", it's OUR right for having paid into it our whole lives, and that all the closures of the offices and slashing of staff prevent people from accessing their benefits that are not even in question, and function as CUTS to benefits without formal cuts to benefits. This is 73 million people that Trump is attacking, again to fund their own tax cuts for themselves and other billionaires.

Booker has spent the last 15+ hours highlighting all of this. It's so needed!! And I hope it stands as a reminder and call to action to get out in the streets April 5th to say NO MORE.

It's critical that people understand that this isn't just Trump and Musk, and it NEVER HAS BEEN. This is the entire Republican Party. It is Mike Johnson, the speaker of the House, pushing through a grotesque bill that yields the power of appropriations and allows these assaults on our programs and rights, and then, when courts AROUND THE COUNTRY including many with Republican-appointed judges, enjoin their illegal actions, now talking about targeting judges or ignoring the law.

I learned from a friend this morning that her colleague's wife's entire branch at the CDC was just fired by Musk -- and the wife was in the National Center for Birth Defects and Developmental Disorders. DOGE thinks preventing birth defects and dealing with developmental disorders is "nonessential." These people are tanking research for illness, disease, the disabled. They are erasing and killing any ability to fight or deal with the climate change that is devastating the world and many species. The party of "life" is a murder-suicide cult of absolutely militant and toxic ignorance and cruelty and hatred.

Now Booker is reading aloud from letters of people who lost their jobs at USAid, who are detailing just how important the institution is/was, explaining its incredible impact across the world, and how dreadful the destruction of this agency is on both the lives of the American workers and the people across the world whom USAid's programs assisted. It's extraordinary to hear these letters and to listen to Booker, voice breaking, read them and respond. One of these letters detailed the propagandizing attacks on workers' lives and integrity Musk spewed, and what these lies mean for American workers, to create support for cuts that are devastating. These letters expose just how egregious the hate-filled lies that Trump and his jackboot treasonous henchmen are vomiting out to destroy lives in an endless firehose of calumny and mendacity, and the danger that Americans were put in from them, as well the increased instability that these cuts will directly contribute to.

I wish I'd stayed up all night listening to Booker -- he's an amazing communicator. I wish everyone had, especially the Trump voters whose livelihoods, medical care, Social Security, and other rights are being attacked by the MAGA Republican party they routinely elect, people who don't understand or care about the importance of the U.S.'s role abroad. They are finding out the hard way what they should have known already: the only representatives who will fight for them and true American ideals are the Democratic electeds they vilify and despise. The party that gave them Social Security and Medicare and Medicaid and the ACA and SNAP and every other benefit they rely on. These are primarily white voters who seem only to take issue with the pain and devastation and corruption and cruelty that are the lifeblood of this rotten-to-its core fascist Republican party when they become its victims.

P.S. If you haven't tuned in yet, please do turn on the You Tube livestream. It'll help him and the cause-- it will help you too to see the light sSon Munn what is going on. Link in comments. (h/t to Son Mun for suggesting everyone tune in even if just on background to boost and support this.)

P.P.S I can't stop listening. Booker's moral clarity is incredible, his capacity to articulate the issues and contrast what is with what ought to be, so critical. He discussed how Trump has sown so much fear and anxiety about the Social Security cuts, and then contrasted that with FDR comforting people and showing leadership (yes ignoring Japanese internment camps and racism...but in describing the Medicaid and Social Security cuts): “This is not a model of leadership, it's a model of cruelty, of mean-spiritedness ...You cannot say you love your country and call yourself a patriot, you cannot do that unless you love the men and women in it. This is not right or left, it's right or wrong."

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Subprime gadgets

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me THIS SUNDAY in ANAHEIM at WONDERCON: YA Fantasy, Room 207, 10 a.m.; Signing, 11 a.m.; Teaching Writing, 2 p.m., Room 213CD.

The promise of feudal security: "Surrender control over your digital life so that we, the wise, giant corporation, can ensure that you aren't tricked into catastrophic blunders that expose you to harm":

https://locusmag.com/2021/01/cory-doctorow-neofeudalism-and-the-digital-manor/

The tech giant is a feudal warlord whose platform is a fortress; move into the fortress and the warlord will defend you against the bandits roaming the lawless land beyond its walls.

That's the promise, here's the failure: What happens when the warlord decides to attack you? If a tech giant decides to do something that harms you, the fortress becomes a prison and the thick walls keep you in.

Apple does this all the time: "click this box and we will use our control over our platform to stop Facebook from spying on you" (Ios as fortress). "No matter what box you click, we will spy on you and because we control which apps you can install, we can stop you from blocking our spying" (Ios as prison):

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

But it's not just Apple – any corporation that arrogates to itself the right to override your own choices about your technology will eventually yield to temptation, using that veto to help itself at your expense:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

Once the corporation puts the gun on the mantelpiece in Act One, they're begging their KPI-obsessed managers to take it down and shoot you in the head with it in anticipation of of their annual Act Three performance review:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/08/playstationed/#tyler-james-hill

One particularly pernicious form of control is "trusted computing" and its handmaiden, "remote attestation." Broadly, this is when a device is designed to gather information about how it is configured and to send verifiable testaments about that configuration to third parties, even if you want to lie to those people:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/08/your-computer-should-say-what-you-tell-it-say-1

New HP printers are designed to continuously monitor how you use them – and data-mine the documents you print for marketing data. You have to hand over a credit-card in order to use them, and HP reserves the right to fine you if your printer is unreachable, which would frustrate their ability to spy on you and charge you rent:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2024/02/hp-wants-you-to-pay-up-to-36-month-to-rent-a-printer-that-it-monitors/

Under normal circumstances, this technological attack would prompt a defense, like an aftermarket mod that prevents your printer's computer from monitoring you. This is "adversarial interoperability," a once-common technological move:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

An adversarial interoperator seeking to protect HP printer users from HP could gin up fake telemetry to send to HP, so they wouldn't be able to tell that you'd seized the means of computation, triggering fines charged to your credit card.

Enter remote attestation: if HP can create a sealed "trusted platform module" or a (less reliable) "secure enclave" that gathers and cryptographically signs information about which software your printer is running, HP can detect when you have modified it. They can force your printer to rat you out – to spill your secrets to your enemy.

Remote attestation is already a reliable feature of mobile platforms, allowing agencies and corporations whose services you use to make sure that you're perfectly defenseless – not blocking ads or tracking, or doing anything else that shifts power from them to you – before they agree to communicate with your device.

What's more, these "trusted computing" systems aren't just technological impediments to your digital wellbeing – they also carry the force of law. Under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, these snitch-chips are "an effective means of access control" which means that anyone who helps you bypass them faces a $500,000 fine and a five-year prison sentence for a first offense.

Feudal security builds fortresses out of trusted computing and remote attestation and promises to use them to defend you from marauders. Remote attestation lets them determine whether your device has been compromised by someone seeking to harm you – it gives them a reliable testament about your device's configuration even if your device has been poisoned by bandits:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil

The fact that you can't override your computer's remote attestations means that you can't be tricked into doing so. That's a part of your computer that belongs to the manufacturer, not you, and it only takes orders from its owner. So long as the benevolent dictator remains benevolent, this is a protective against your own lapses, follies and missteps. But if the corporate warlord turns bandit, this makes you powerless to stop them from devouring you whole.

With that out of the way, let's talk about debt.

Debt is a normal feature of any economy, but today's debt plays a different role from the normal debt that characterized life before wages stagnated and inequality skyrocketed. 40 years ago, neoliberalism – with its assaults on unions and regulations – kicked off a multigenerational process of taking wealth away from working people to make the rich richer.

Have you ever watched a genius pickpocket like Apollo Robbins work? When Robins lifts your wristwatch, he curls his fingers around your wrist, expertly adding pressure to simulate the effect of a watchband, even as he takes away your watch. Then, he gradually releases his grip, so slowly that you don't even notice:

https://www.reddit.com/r/nextfuckinglevel/comments/ppqjya/apollo_robbins_a_master_pickpocket_effortlessly/

For the wealthy to successfully impoverish the rest of us, they had to provide something that made us feel like we were still doing OK, even as they stole our wages, our savings, and our futures. So, even as they shipped our jobs overseas in search of weak environmental laws and weaker labor protection, they shared some of the savings with us, letting us buy more with less. But if your wages keep stagnating, it doesn't matter how cheap a big-screen TV gets, because you're tapped out.

So in tandem with cheap goods from overseas sweatshops, we got easy credit: access to debt. As wages fell, debt rose up to fill the gap. For a while, it's felt OK. Your wages might be falling off, the cost of health care and university might be skyrocketing, but everything was getting cheaper, it was so easy to borrow, and your principal asset – your family home – was going up in value, too.

This period was a "bezzle," John Kenneth Galbraith's name for "The magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it." It's the moment after Apollo Robbins has your watch but before you notice it's gone. In that moment, both you and Robbins feel like you have a watch – the world's supply of watch-derived happiness actually goes up for a moment.

There's a natural limit to debt-fueled consumption: as Michael Hudson says, "debts that can't be paid, won't be paid." Once the debtor owes more than they can pay back – or even service – creditors become less willing to advance credit to them. Worse, they start to demand the right to liquidate the debtor's assets. That can trigger some pretty intense political instability, especially when the only substantial asset most debtors own is the roof over their heads:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/06/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom/

"Debts that can't be paid, won't be paid," but that doesn't stop creditors from trying to get blood from our stones. As more of us became bankrupt, the bankruptcy system was gutted, turned into a punitive measure designed to terrorize people into continuing to pay down their debts long past the point where they can reasonably do so:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/bankruptcy-protects-fake-people-brutalizes-real-ones/

Enter "subprime" – loans advanced to people who stand no meaningful chance of every paying them back. We all remember the subprime housing bubble, in which complex and deceptive mortgages were extended to borrowers on the promise that they could either flip or remortgage their house before the subprime mortgages detonated when their "teaser rates" expired and the price of staying in your home doubled or tripled.

Subprime housing loans were extended on the belief that people would meekly render themselves homeless once the music stopped, forfeiting all the money they'd plowed into their homes because the contract said they had to. For a brief minute there, it looked like there would be a rebellion against mass foreclosure, but then Obama and Timothy Geithner decreed that millions of Americans would have to lose their homes to "foam the runways" for the banks:

https://wallstreetonparade.com/2012/08/how-treasury-secretary-geithner-foamed-the-runways-with-childrens-shattered-lives/

That's one way to run a subprime shop: offer predatory loans to people who can't afford them and then confiscate their assets when they – inevitably – fail to pay their debts off.

But there's another form of subprime, familiar to loan sharks through the ages: lend money at punitive interest rates, such that the borrower can never repay the debt, and then terrorize the borrower into making payments for as long as possible. Do this right and the borrower will pay you several times the value of the loan, and still owe you a bundle. If the borrower ever earns anything, you'll have a claim on it. Think of Americans who borrowed $79,000 to go to university, paid back $190,000 and still owe $236,000:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

This kind of loan-sharking is profitable, but labor-intensive. It requires that the debtor make payments they fundamentally can't afford. The usurer needs to get their straw right down into the very bottom of the borrower's milkshake and suck up every drop. You need to convince the debtor to sell their wedding ring, then dip into their kid's college fund, then steal their father's coin collection, and, then break into cars to steal the stereos. It takes a lot of person-to-person work to keep your sucker sufficiently motivated to do all that.

This is where digital meets subprime. There's $1T worth of subprime car-loans in America. These are pure predation: the lender sells a beater to a mark, offering a low down-payment loan with a low initial interest rate. The borrower makes payments at that rate for a couple of months, but then the rate blows up to more than they can afford.

Trusted computing makes this marginal racket into a serious industry. First, there's the ability of the car to narc you out to the repo man by reporting on its location. Tesla does one better: if you get behind in your payments, your Tesla immobilizes itself and phones home, waits for the repo man to come to the parking lot, then it backs itself out of the spot while honking its horn and flashing its lights:

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

That immobilization trick shows how a canny subprime car-lender can combine the two kinds of subprime: they can secure the loan against an asset (the car), but also coerce borrowers into prioritizing repayment over other necessities of life. After your car immobilizes itself, you just might decide to call the dealership and put down your credit card, even if that means not being able to afford groceries or child support or rent.

One thing we can say about digital tools: they're flexible. Any sadistic motivational technique a lender can dream up, a computerized device can execute. The subprime car market relies on a spectrum of coercive tactics: cars that immobilize themselves, sure, but how about cars that turn on their speakers to max and blare a continuous recording telling you that you're a deadbeat and demanding payment?

https://archive.nytimes.com/dealbook.nytimes.com/2014/09/24/miss-a-payment-good-luck-moving-that-car/

The more a subprime lender can rely on a gadget to torment you on their behalf, the more loans they can issue. Here, at last, is a form of automation-driven mass unemployment: normally, an economy that has been fully captured by wealthy oligarchs needs squadrons of cruel arm-breakers to convince the plebs to prioritize debt service over survival. The infinitely flexible, tireless digital arm-breakers enabled by trusted computing have deprived all of those skilled torturers of their rightful employment:

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

The world leader in trusted computing isn't cars, though – it's phones. Long before anyone figured out how to make a car take orders from its manufacturer over the objections of its driver, Apple and Google were inventing "curating computing" whose app stores determined which software you could run and how you could run it.

Back in 2021, Indian subprime lenders hit on the strategy of securing their loans by loading borrowers' phones up with digital arm-breaking software:

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

The software would gather statistics on your app usage. When you missed a payment, the phone would block you from accessing your most frequently used app. If that didn't motivate you to pay, you'd lose your second-most favorite app, then your third, fourth, etc.

This kind of digital arm-breaking is only possible if your phone is designed to prioritize remote instructions – from the manufacturer and its app makers – over your own. It also only works if the digital arm-breaking company can confirm that you haven't jailbroken your phone, which might allow you to send fake data back saying that your apps have been disabled, while you continue to use those apps. In other words, this kind of digital sadism only works if you've got trusted computing and remote attestation.

Enter "Device Lock Controller," an app that comes pre-installed on some Google Pixel phones. To quote from the app's description: "Device Lock Controller enables device management for credit providers. Your provider can remotely restrict access to your device if you don't make payments":

https://lemmy.world/post/13359866

Google's pitch to Android users is that their "walled garden" is a fortress that keeps people who want to do bad things to you from reaching you. But they're pre-installing software that turns the fortress into a prison that you can't escape if they decide to let someone come after you.

There's a certain kind of economist who looks at these forms of automated, fine-grained punishments and sees nothing but a tool for producing an "efficient market" in debt. For them, the ability to automate arm-breaking results in loans being offered to good, hardworking people who would otherwise be deprived of credit, because lenders will judge that these borrowers can be "incentivized" into continuing payments even to the point of total destitution.

This is classic efficient market hypothesis brain worms, the kind of cognitive dead-end that you arrive at when you conceive of people in purely economic terms, without considering the power relationships between them. It's a dead end you navigate to if you only think about things as they are today – vast numbers of indebted people who command fewer assets and lower wages than at any time since WWII – and treat this as a "natural" state: "how can these poors expect to be offered more debt unless they agree to have their all-important pocket computers booby-trapped?"

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/29/boobytrap/#device-lock-controller

Image: Oatsy (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/oatsy40/21647688003

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