#Computer Repair London

[toopeanutcrown]

Official Presentation Mac Repair Specialists

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FE Burman Building,20 Crimscott Street,London,SE1 5TF

0788 314 6953

info@mac-repairs.co.uk

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Are the means of computation even seizable?

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PITTSBURGH in TOMORROW (May 15) at WHITE WHALE BOOKS, and in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE with BUNNIE HUANG. More tour dates (London, Manchester) here.

Something's very different in tech. Once upon a time, every bad choice by tech companies – taking away features, locking out mods or plugins, nerfing the API – was countered, nearly instantaneously, by someone writing a program that overrode that choice.

Bad clients would be muscled aside by third-party clients. Locked bootloaders would be hacked and replaced. Code that confirmed you were using OEM parts, consumables or adapters would be found and nuked from orbit. Weak APIs would be replaced with muscular, unofficial APIs built out of unstoppable scrapers running on headless machines in some data-center. Every time some tech company erected a 10-foot enshittifying fence, someone would show up with an 11-foot disenshittifying ladder.

Those 11-foot ladders represented the power of interoperability, the inescapable bounty of the Turing-complete, universal von Neumann machine, which, by definition, is capable of running every valid program. Specifically, they represented the power of adversarial interoperability – when someone modifies a technology against its manufacturer's wishes. Adversarial interoperability is the origin story of today's tech giants, from Microsoft to Apple to Google:

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

But adversarial interop has been in steady decline for the past quarter-century. These big companies moved fast and broke things, but no one is returning the favor. If you ask the companies what changed, they'll just smirk and say that they're better at security than the incumbents they disrupted. The reason no one's hacked up a third-party iOS App Store is that Apple's security team is just so fucking 1337 that no one can break their shit.

I think this is nonsense. I think that what's really going on is that we've made it possible for companies to design their technologies in such a way that any attempt at adversarial interop is illegal.

"Anticircumvention" laws like Section 1201 of the 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act make bypassing any kind of digital lock (AKA "Digital Rights Management" or "DRM") very illegal. Under DMCA, just talking about how to remove a digital lock can land you in prison for 5 years. I tell the story of this law's passage in "Understood: Who Broke the Internet," my new podcast series for the CBC:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/05/08/who-broke-the-internet/#bruce-lehman

For a quarter century, tech companies have aggressively lobbied and litigated to expand the scope of anticircumvention laws. At the same time, companies have come up with a million ways to wrap their products in digital locks that are a crime to break.

Digital locks let Chamberlain, a garage-door opener monopolist block all third-party garage-door apps. Then, Chamberlain stuck ads in its app, so you have to watch an ad to open your garage-door:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Digital locks let John Deere block third-party repair of its tractors:

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

And they let Apple block third-party repair of iPhones:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/22/apples-cement-overshoes/

These companies built 11-foot ladders to get over their competitors' 10-foot walls, and then they kicked the ladder away. Once they were secure atop their walls, they committed enshittifying sins their fallen adversaries could only dream of.

I've been campaigning to abolish anticircumvention laws for the past quarter-century, and I've noticed a curious pattern. Whenever these companies stand to lose their legal protections, they freak out and spend vast fortunes to keep those protections intact. That's weird, because it strongly implies that their locks don't work. A lock that works works, whether or not it's illegal to break that lock. The reason Signal encryption works is that it's working encryption. The legal status of breaking Signal's encryption has nothing to do with whether it works. If Signal's encryption was full of technical flaws but it was illegal to point those flaws out, you'd be crazy to trust Signal.

Signal does get involved in legal fights, of course, but the fights it gets into are ones that require Signal to introduce defects in its encryption – not fights over whether it is legal to disclose flaws in Signal or exploit them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

But tech companies that rely on digital locks manifestly act like their locks don't work and they know it. When the tech and content giants bullied the W3C into building DRM into 2 billion users' browsers, they categorically rejected any proposal to limit their ability to destroy the lives of people who broke that DRM, even if it was only to add accessibility or privacy to video:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

The thing is, if the lock works, you don't need the legal right to destroy the lives of people who find its flaws, because it works.

Do digital locks work? Can they work? I think the answer to both questions is a resounding no. The design theory of a digital lock is that I can provide you with an encrypted file that your computer has the keys to. Your computer will access those keys to decrypt or sign a file, but only under the circumstances that I have specified. Like, you can install an app when it comes from my app store, but not when it comes from a third party. Or you can play back a video in one kind of browser window, but not in another one. For this to work, your computer has to hide a cryptographic key from you, inside a device you own and control. As I pointed out more than a decade ago, this is a fool's errand:

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

After all, you or I might not have the knowledge and resources to uncover the keys' hiding place, but someone does. Maybe that someone is a person looking to go into business selling your customers the disenshittifying plugin that unfucks the thing you deliberately broke. Maybe it's a hacker-tinkerer, pursuing an intellectual challenge. Maybe it's a bored grad student with a free weekend, an electron-tunneling microscope, and a seminar full of undergrads looking for a project.

The point is that hiding secrets in devices that belong to your adversaries is very bad security practice. No matter how good a bank safe is, the bank keeps it in its vault – not in the bank-robber's basement workshop.

For a hiding-secrets-in-your-adversaries'-device plan to work, the manufacturer has to make zero mistakes. The adversary – a competitor, a tinkerer, a grad student – only has to find one mistake and exploit it. This is a bedrock of security theory: attackers have an inescapable advantage.

So I think that DRM doesn't work. I think DRM is a legal construct, not a technical one. I think DRM is a kind of magic Saran Wrap that manufacturers can wrap around their products, and, in so doing, make it a literal jailable offense to use those products in otherwise legal ways that their shareholders don't like. As Jay Freeman put it, using DRM creates a new law called "Felony Contempt of Business Model." It's a law that has never been passed by any legislature, but is nevertheless enforceable.

In the 25 years I've been fighting anticircumvention laws, I've spoken to many government officials from all over the world about the opportunity that repealing their anticircumvention laws represents. After all, Apple makes $100b/year by gouging app makers for 30 cents on ever dollar. Allow your domestic tech sector to sell the tools to jailbreak iPhones and install third party app stores, and you can convert Apple's $100b/year to a $100m/year business for one of your own companies, and the other $999,900,000,000 will be returned to the world's iPhone owners as a consumer surplus.

But every time I pitched this, I got the same answer: "The US Trade Representative forced us to pass this law, and threatened us with tariffs if we didn't pass it." Happy Liberation Day, people – every country in the world is now liberated from the only reason to keep this stupid-ass law on their books:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/15/beauty-eh/#its-the-only-war-the-yankees-lost-except-for-vietnam-and-also-the-alamo-and-the-bay-of-ham

In light of the Trump tariffs, I've been making the global rounds again, making the case for an anticircumvention repeal:

https://www.ft.com/content/b882f3a7-f8c9-4247-9662-3494eb37c30b

One of the questions I've been getting repeatedly from policy wonks, activists and officials is, "Is it even possible to jailbreak modern devices?" They want to know if companies like Apple, Tesla, Google, Microsoft, and John Deere have created unbreakable digital locks. Obviously, this is an important question, because if these locks are impregnable, then getting rid of the law won't deliver the promised benefits.

It's true that there aren't as many jailbreaks as we used to see. When a big project like Nextcloud – which is staffed up with extremely accomplished and skilled engineers – gets screwed over by Google's app store, they issue a press-release, not a patch:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2025/05/nextcloud-accuses-google-of-big-tech-gatekeeping-over-android-app-permissions/

Perhaps that's because the tech staff at Nextcloud are no match for Google, not even with the attacker's advantage on their side.

But I don't think so. Here's why: we do still get jailbreaks and mods, but these almost exclusively come from anonymous tinkerers and hobbyists:

https://consumerrights.wiki/Mazda_DMCA_takedown_of_Open_Source_Home_Assistant_App

Or from pissed off teenagers:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/9/29/23378541/the-og-app-instagram-clone-pulled-from-app-store

These hacks are incredibly ambitious! How ambitious? How about a class break for every version of iOS as well as an unpatchable hardware attack on 8 years' worth of Apple bootloaders?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/25/mafia-logic/#sosumi

Now, maybe it's the case at all the world's best hackers are posting free code under pseudonyms. Maybe all the code wizards working for venture backed tech companies that stand to make millions through clever reverse engineering are just not as mad skilled as teenagers who want an ad-free Insta and that's why they've never replicated the feat.

Or maybe it's because teenagers and anonymous hackers are just about the only people willing to risk a $500,000 fine and 5-year prison sentence. In other words, maybe the thing that protects DRM is law, not code. After all, when Polish security researchers revealed the existence of secret digital locks that the train manufacturer Newag used to rip off train operators for millions of euros, Newag dragged them into court:

https://fsfe.org/news/2025/news-20250407-01.en.html

Tech companies are the most self-mythologizing industry on the planet, beating out even the pharma sector in boasting about their prowess and good corporate citizenship. They swear that they've made a functional digital lock…but they sure act like the only thing those locks do is let them sue people who reveal their workings.

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/2025/05/14/pregnable/#checkm8

[grimesapologist]

hey hey!! its been a while since I've had to make one of these (for which I'm very grateful) but here goes! I'm Val, a black trans DJ, visual artist and writer living in London, and I'm asking for some help

basically, I've been houseless/in precarious living for the past few months and am finally in a stable living situation, with people I love and trust :D — unfortunately work has been anything but steady the past few months and my work computer's been out of commission for the past two months awaiting repairs which I can't afford. I have my first proper rent payment coming up end of the month which is also a big stress bc of convoluted benefits bureaucracy & stuff, but anyways, I'm really in need of funds at the minute to get to a place of stability where I am safe and able to do/make the things that make me happy. thank you sm for reading this far, lots of love <33333³

tl;dr i'm finally not houseless, which owns, but work stability has fallen thru massively, which sucks, I need to fix my computer (£150) so I can make more work and pay rent (£450) so I can keep living in my house and would appreciate any and all help in doing those things [:

☣️payp*l: paypal.me/vmclaren368☣️

please share if you can!

[thegildedbee]

Calm/Hobby: May 7 & 8 Prompts from @calaisreno

As his Air Baltic flight from Oslo begins its descent into Tallinn, Sherlock stares distractedly out the window at the thinning layer of clouds, and pushes back at the whisper of bleakness that it it is the Estonian coastline coming into view, not the South East shores of England. He girds himself with stoicism as he feels a tendril of melancholy begin to unfurl at the fact that Sherlock Holmes no longer exists, now that Herr Lukas Sigerson has taken his place.

He knows that this new identity will only be the first of many.

Sigerson has brown eyes, and wears dark brown tortoiseshell glasses; his dark hair is beginning to have a salt and pepper cast to it, his lower face is covered by stubble. His loose-limbed gait is relaxed, and there's a remnant of a tendency to stutter when he speaks. Hidden from view are the still-healing cracked ribs on the right side of his torso, the damaged ligaments of his right knee, and the fact that the ossicular chain within his right ear bears traces of having been successfully reconstructed, the surgical repair restoring the hearing he had lost after the trauma to his skull. 

When Sherlock had been ready to leave the UK to begin to grapple with Moriarty’s extant remains -- the people and infrastructure and schemes dispersed across the globe -- it had been hard to determine what to do first and where and why. Of the three assassins in London on the day of his fall, the one assigned to Mrs. Hudson – a thuggish fellow more noteworthy for his brawn than any brains – had been rolled up by Mycroft’s people even before Sherlock had been delivered to the morgue. The one assigned to Lestrade had been somewhat harder to ferret out, but as Sherlock began piecing together what details he could collect during his recuperation, he had determined that he was a functionary who had infiltrated the Met – and the resolution of that criminal had also been left to Mycroftian minions. 

But John’s sniper was of a different cast altogether, an experienced professional who had made no mistakes and vanished like vapor. Sherlock believed that individual had been more than a freelance hire -– Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade had been brought into the mix of those in danger of losing their lives because every action of Moriarty’s was as theatrical and excessive as it was insane: ransoming John’s life had always been the true motive. John’s sniper would have been especially close to Moriarty, and likely a member of the upper echelon of his criminal syndicate. Sherlock suspected that acquiring the information that would allow him to destroy this person was going to be an exceedingly difficult proposition.

He needed information, and Sherlock had finally decided that the place to begin was with Estonia, the tiny nation that had regained its independence from Soviet occupation in 1991, and that had chosen to bypass the encumbering drag of the impoverished infrastructure bequeathed from the Soviets, by abandoning it. Estonia had instead risked its future by constructing an economy based on the latest digital technologies, leapfrogging more advanced nations as it became a cyber-powered incubator of innovation, and one of the most wired countries in the world. Sherlock had no doubt that Moriarty would have been intent on turning this transformation to his own advantage; he would have found the opportunity irresistible.

Moriarty’s claim to have a code that could take over any computer was false, but even so Sherlock suspected that this fabulation pointed at something all too real: investments by Moriarity in the dark web, and in the recruitment of cadres of hackers to be manipulated into hijacking computer networks. In April and May of 2007, Estonia had been besieged for three weeks by waves of cyberattacks that had crippled its digital public and private sectors, from government entities such as the foreign and defense ministries, to banks, corporate enterprises, and media outlets. Estonia had traced the attacks to actors within Moldova’s breakaway state of Transnistria, a long narrow geographic entity bordering Ukraine that displayed the Soviet Communist hammer-and-sickle on its flag and coat of arms. Sherlock suspected that these cyberterrorist actors were performing roles under Moriarty’s direction, and that he would find information from within Estonia that would point to the far-flung nodes of his enemy’s wretched empire. 

With their impending arrival in Tallinn, the melancholy that had emerged begins to become more deeply rooted, and Sherlock’s mind's eye paints pictures of what lies in the deep of the sea passage below, and across the sea miles beyond Britain’s and Europe’s contours – fragments of exploded ordnance littering the ocean floor, where bodies entombed in submarines and battleships are testament to the destructive capabilities of bands of people bent on glory and riches and domination.

His meandering thoughts catch hold of a memory in the viewing room of his mind palace, the one that records the evenings when John had chosen a film to share as they sat propped up together on the sofa in the darkness. It focused on the US Army Air Force unit that flew missions from East Anglia in World War II, and the appointment of a new commanding officer tasked with reversing the underperformance of the bombing teams. 

He had been riveted by the harsh speech the uncompromising commander delivers to the group of pilots, who simmer with resentment at his theory that part of their problems lie with their playing it safe. He tells them that while fear is to be expected, the only choice they have is to stop worrying about the fear, and about themselves. He can still feel the chill of premonition when he heard the figure on the screen bite out his message: “We’re in a war – a shooting war. We’ve got to fight. And some of us have got to die." But it was the follow-on command that is engraved in his mind beyond the memory palace, visible in the shadow of all else he is thinking about: "Stop making plans. Forget about going home. Consider yourselves already dead. After that, it won’t be so tough.” And so, too, was his bombing run a flight into the unknown, against unseen enemies, the actions of a self-created ghost who must reckon that he truly inhabits the underworld from this point on.

Sherlock closes his eyes and continues work on the new spaces that he has been constructing in his mind palace, an effort that never fails to bring him calm, even when other emotions are in play. These new rooms are cloisters and refectories based on the architecture of a thirteenth-century monastery, in deference to Tallinn’s remarkable preservation of the medieval city within its precincts, and he has reserved this adjacent building for whatever part Eastern Europe will play in his sojourns. It is complicated artistry, and he is the last one to rise and exit the airplane.

As Herr Sigerson makes his way toward the front of the compact airport, he adjusts the rucksack on his shoulder, and tugs the bottom of his jumper to straighten it. As a standard issue Norwegian, he is, of course, kitted out in knitted wool, although the garment he wears is only a single hue; the vividly colored patterns favored by so many of the inhabitants of his improvised homeland hurt both his eyesight and his sense of fashion. Sherlock smiles at the thought that John would be amused, were he to see his couture, and consider it revenge for Sherlock’s hobby of “inadvertently” wreaking havoc on the least attractive of John’s jumpers.

Sherlock's half-zip pullover is a dark navy blue with a beautiful sheen, and it is not completely devoid of decoration – it is just that the design is woven into the single color, slightly raised, subdued in its visibility. On the back is the Norse symbol of the vegvisir, which was said to allow its possessor to always find the right path, no matter how turbulent the environment might be. Next to the wayfinding icon is a letter from the ancient runic alphabet said to summon good luck. No doubt John would also be amused at the fact that his relentlessly rational friend is carrying these mystical totems on his body. Although, perhaps not, were he to know of the future toward which Sherlock has now committed himself. ........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper rest of the @s in the tags, which will work for communication purposes, I hope? just say the word if you want to be untagged or tagged xoxoxo

[fanellifest]

Who Was Joe Fanelli?

The Joe-verview

Joe Fanelli (c. April 12, 1954 – June 3, 1993) was an American from Franklin, Massachusetts; an ex-boyfriend of Freddie’s; later, his very dear friend; later still, his nurse/caregiver.

Joe and Freddie met in 1978, and their relationship lasted until they broke up some time in 1979. Afterwards, Joe continued to live in the UK—working as a professional chef in several London restaurants, including September and Provan’s—with his residency arrangements as a non-UK Citizen (likely via a work visa) being secured in effort by Freddie himself.

Likely stemming from the stressful nature of his relationship with Freddie—which included uprooting his entire life to a foreign country—and also the prevalence of drinking in the culture of professional chefs, Joe developed an alcohol dependency as a coping mechanism. According to Peter Freestone, by the time Joe had been hired full time to reside in Garden Lodge in 1985, he had gotten sober and sought new solace in regularly going to the gym. He also was “a dedicated vegan” as written by Brian in Queen in 3-D.

Consider this the Hot Girl Comeback that follows the Bad Bitch Fumble.

In addition to his professional culinary training and workout habits, Joe also found a hobby in computers, teaching himself how they worked, how to write programs (including coding a version of Countdown which could be played at home), and familiarizing himself with the internet during his efforts to research HIV/AIDS information.

Said research was of particular importance as Joe, along with Peter Freestone, became one of Freddie’s caregivers all the while dealing with his own HIV/AIDS diagnosis.

With regards to personality, Joe is described by Peter Freestone as “highly intelligent,” having “a positive nature,” and “prepared to argue anything, stand up for whatever.” Jim Hutton wrote in Mercury and Me that Joe had “a cautious approach to people and life,” and recalled the following event which possibly provides insight to the dynamics of Freddie and Joe’s working relationship/friendship, and definitely gets a laugh:

Joe was standing by the sink in the kitchen and Freddie was sitting at the table looking very stern. ‘And you’re fired, too!’ Freddie snapped at me. ‘Pardon?’ I said. ‘You can’t sack Jim,’ Joe told Freddie with a gloriously smug expression. ‘Why not?’ he snapped. ‘Because he doesn’t work for you!’ he said. ‘Oh, no he doesn’t, does he?’ Freddie replied.

There are several anecdotes about or involving Joe in many of the published memoirs written by those close to Freddie, and we’ll hopefully be able to share some of those here soon.

More in-depth posts about many of these topics—Joe’s relationship with Freddie, his job with Queen on tour, his role at Garden Lodge—will be coming with more specifics!

It says a lot regarding Joe’s character, about the type of person he was, to make several life changes and to also reconnect with an ex after a less-than-ideal falling out, repairing a friendship that lasted the remainder of their lives. As one of the lesser-known people in Freddie’s orbit, we hope this post helped you get to know Joe Fanelli a bit better.

What is remembered lives.

[beekeeperspicnic]

What I've been getting up to without my computer

Since I don't have any game updates at the moment I thought I'd give you a look at my very analogue Sherlock Holmes related project!

As you probably know, the Sherlock Holmes stories were mostly originally published in the Strand Magazine which came out as floppy monthly magazines with hardback collections every six months.

A while ago I spotted a really beaten up copy of the July to December 1893 book on eBay for £8. This book can sometimes go for £200 in good condition because it's the one with...

I immediately decided to make repairing it a Project!

You can see here that the text block has totally come away from the boards.

Along the spine I was really excited to see something a little familiar being used to give some structural support! My initial thought was that this had to be a slice of a cover of one of the floppy Strand magazines.

But when I got it loose and studied it, although the paper and ink colour is the same, it doesn't actually follow the layout format of the Strand covers. It's lots of little ads, and they run off the bottom like this is part of a larger document.

Scrap of paper on left, a Strand Magazine on the right:

So yeah, that's still a bit of a mystery, but it's cool to see this scrap of paper the printers had lying around. I had to remove it, but I'm going to keep it safe.

I did some gentle cleaning of the cover using a putty eraser, just gently pressing and rolling, never rubbing. It picked up a little of the grime.

The cover had got some paint splotches on at some point in the past, and I tried to gently remove these. Part of me wishes I'd left them as I think I was starting to effect the blue colour in the area.

(Original on the right, my attempt at cleaning on the left!)

I also reinforced some of the parts of the bookcloth around the spine that were very worn with Japanese tissue, which is very thin but very, very difficult to tear.

Now here's a fun part, with some help from my cat Miss Malkin!

The spine of the book had a few problems.

The fabric which wraps around it and helps attach it to the cover/boards which is called scrim (or mull, I've seen it called both!) had totally decayed and turned into gross dust, I knew I'd need to replace it.

Although the sewn binding was sound, I could tell that the glue wasn't doing its job anymore. It was old 'animal glue' that had turned hard and brittle. I knew I'd need to replace it with something else, like PVA.

I needed to get that glue off, so I tried out a trick I saw online. I made a paste/gel out of methycellulose, which is a substance that gets used as a thickener in lots of food products. Of course I keep mine in a fancy little jar:

The gel softens the old glue without getting it dangerously damp, allowing you to gently scrape it away. I have a really satisfying video of me doing it, but Tumblr only lets you upload one video per post, boo.

Look at all this gnarly gunk!

But look at how good the text block looks with its new scrim and glue!

I got the black paper from Shepherd's in London which is a specialist Art & Conservation Paper shop (they have a book bindery too but it's closed at the weekends.) Buying it was so fun, I got to look through lots of samples and pick something which matched the original paper.

I then had to get it home half way across the country on public transport. Yaaaaay.

I was trying to think what I was going to use to replace the Strand Magazine page on the spine. In the end I decided to leave a little note, for some future person who might take the binding apart someday!

So, here it is!

I have to admit that this whole project has been a real challenge, emotionally more than anything! It's required me to be brave about messing with an old book, and to acknowledge that even where I've made mistakes, at least it's better off then it was when It arrived at my house.

[stevebattle]

Brainy Bricks (1980) by Phil Yeardley and Pete Gissig, Sheffield, UK. Euromicro '8O was to take place in London, and the conference organisers felt they needed a lighthearted attraction – and so the European Micromouse contest was born. Competing in the 1980 Amazing Micromouse Maze Contest, Brainy Bricks, based on the KIM-1 microcomputer, "resembled an office block built of Lego. Since distance travelled was computed from output commands rather than measured, distance errors could accumulate on a long corridor. One centimeter error is enough to strike a wall on a corner, and this then causes further directional and distance errors. Like several other mice, it would travel some distance down previously seen corridors, and then reverse direction and return. During its first run it actually returned to the start. Whenever it angled into the wall of a corridor, it would reverse away. LED position detectors were used, but the presence of walls was tested by wire feelers on microswitches. These feelers would occasionally get caught on the joins between walls or masking tape maze repairs." – On Micromice and the First European Micromouse Competition, Wayne H. Caplinger, AISB Quarterly issue 39 December 1980.

[comtessezouboff]

The Progress of Love Set

A retexture by La Comtesse Zouboff — Original Mesh by @thejim07

First of all, I'm terribly sorry for the lack of content lately, I've had some major issues and now my computer is not available to me, since it's being repaired, but in the meantime, enjoy this little rococo set!

The history of these paintings-one of the most powerful evocations of love in the history of art-is linked with the career of Jeanne Bécu, Countess du Barry the last mistress of Louis XV. For a pleasure pavilion in Louveciennes she commissioned from the architect Claude-Nicolas Ledoux in 1771, the countess ordered from Fragonard four canvases depicting "the four ages of love." The series advances in the following order: from a flirtatious proposal (the pursuit), to a furtive meeting (the lover scales the wall of a garden), to consummation or marriage (the girl crowns her lover with roses), to the calm enjoyment of a happy union (the reading of love letters). Yet, for all their beauty and passion, Madame du Barry soon returned the canvases to the artist and ordered replacements from another. Were the resemblances between the red-coated lover and Louis XV potentially embarrassing? Did the exuberant canvases seem a little old-fashioned amid the cool neoclassicism of Ledoux's avant- garde pavilion? For whatever reason, Fragonard was left holding on to his creations for another twenty years. Then, adding seven more canvases, (although the original series contains five canvases) he installed the series in a cousin's villa in southern France. They passed through the collection of J. P. Morgan, where they were displayed in his London house. They were acquired by Frick in 1915 and installed in a room specially designed for them where they remain to this day.

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This set contains 5 paintings with the original frame swatches, fully recolourable. They are:

The Progress of Love: The Pursuit.

The Progress of Love: The Meeting.

The Progress of Love: The Lover Crowned.

The Progress of Love: The Declaration of Love.

The Progress of Love: Reverie.

Found under decor > paintings for: 3.900§ (1-4) and 3.560§ (5)

Retextured from:

"Portrait of Maria Theresa of Austria and her Son, le Grand Dauphin" (1-4) found here

"Length Portrait of Mrs.D" (5) found here

Drive

(Sims3pack | Package)

(Useful tags below)

@joojconverts @ts3history @ts3historicalccfinds @deniisu-sims @katsujiiccfinds @gifappels-stuff

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[aimeedaisies]

The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in January 2024

04/01 With Sir Tim As Honorary President, attended the Oxford Farming Conference.

05/01 unofficial Sir Tim, as Trust President of the Gloucestershire Warwickshire Railway, visited emergency work at the Stanway Viaduct near Toddington. 🦺🚂

10/01 Princess Anne, accompanied by Sir Tim, carried out the following engagements in Colombo to commemorate the 75th Anniversary of United Kingdom-Sri Lanka Bilateral Relations;

As President of the United Kingdom Fashion and Textile Association, visited MAS Active in Katunayake. 👚

As Patron of Save the Children UK, visited the Save the Children Sri Lanka Head Office to mark its 50th Anniversary. 👧

As Patron of Save the Children UK, visited a Save the Children Sri Lanka programme at Lady Ridgeway Hospital for Children. 🏥

Called upon The President of the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka and Mrs Wickremesinghe at The President's House. 📩

Attended a Dinner given by The President of the Democratic Socialist Republic of Sri Lanka and Mrs Wickremesinghe at The President's House to commemorate the 75th Anniversary of United Kingdom-Sri Lanka Bilateral Relations. 🍽️

11/01 Princess Anne, accompanied by Sir Tim, carried out the following engagements in Kandy and Jaffna to commemorate the 75th Anniversary of United Kingdom-Sri Lanka Bilateral Relations;

Visited the Temple of the Sacred Tooth Relic, Sri Dalada Maligawa in Kandy. 🛕

Met representatives of the Tamil Community at Jaffna Public Library. 📚

Visited the Halo Trust De-mining site, the United Nations Development Programme and International Organisation for Migration Resettlement site in Muhamalai. 🧨

12/01 Princess Anne, accompanied by Sir Tim, carried out the following engagements in Colombo to commemorate the 75th Anniversary of United Kingdom-Sri Lanka Bilateral Relations;

Visited the British High Commission Office. 🇬🇧

As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, laid a wreath at Jawatte Cemetery. 🪦

Visited Vajira Pillayar Kovil Hindu Temple 🛕

As President of the English-Speaking Union of the Commonwealth, visited the British Council. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🗣️

As President of the Mission to Seafarers, visited the Mission to Seafarers Colombo. ⛵️

Visited Hatch Works. 📆

As President of the Mission to Seafarers, attended a Key Supporters Reception at the Cathedral of Christ the Living Saviour. ⛪️

Attended a Reception given by the British High Commissioner to Sri Lanka at the Residence in Colombo. 🍹🇬🇧🇱🇰

16/01 As Patron of Police Treatment Centres,visited Castlebrae Treatment Centre in Perth. 👮🩺

As Vice President of the Royal Scottish Geographical Society, and Former Patron of the Heart of Arabia Expedition, attended a Reception at the Royal Scottish Geographical Society. 🌍

Opened the Vertical Farm Engineering Innovation Centre in Inverkeithing. 🌾⬆️

17/01 Held an Investiture at the Palace of Holyroodhouse.🎖️

As Chancellor of the University of Edinburgh, attended a Reception to mark the 60th Anniversary of Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence and later opened the Institute for Regeneration and Repair at the University. 🎓🎮

As Honorary Member of the New Club attended the 70th Anniversary Amalgamation Dinner. 🍽️

18/01 As President of the UK Fashion and Textile Association, visited Advanced Clothing Solutions in Motherwell. 👗

As Patron of Citizens Advice Scotland, visited Hamilton Citizens Advice Bureau. 👩‍⚖️

23/01 Opened the Medical Research Council Laboratory of Medical Sciences at Imperial College NHS Hospital in London. 🏥

As Patron of Livability, attended the Thanksgiving Service to mark the 180th anniversary at All Hallows by the Tower. 🎂⛪️

As Royal Honorary Colonel of the University of London Officers’ Training Corps, attended the Annual Reception at Yeomanry House. 🎓🫡

24/01 On behalf of The King, held an Investiture at Windsor Castle. 🎖️

As Patron of Save the Children UK, visited the London Head Office. 👧👦

As President of the City and Guilds of London Institute, visited Cox Workshops Limited in London. 🛠️

25/01 As Royal Patron of the National Coastwatch Institution, visited Cromer Station. 🛟

As President of the Royal Yachting Association, opened Norfolk Schools Sailing Association’s new facilities at Filby Centre, Norfolk. ⛵️

As Patron of National Association of Official Prison Visitors, visited HM Prison Norwich. 🔗

30/01 As Patron of Save the Children UK, visited the Stockton Heath Charity Shop. 🛍️

Visited Jodrell Bank Observatory UNESCO World Heritage Site at the University of Manchester. 🌌🪐

As President of the Riding for the Disabled Association, opened the new Centre and Platinum Jubilee Stables at Reaseheath Equestrian College in Nantwich. 🏇🏼

31/01 Held an Investiture at Buckingham Palace.🎖️

As Royal Fellow of the Royal Academy of Engineering, attended the 10th Anniversary Reception of the Africa Prize for Engineering Innovation at Prince Philip House in London. 🏆

Total official engagements for Anne in January: 41

2024 total so far: 41

Total official engagements accompanied by Tim in January: 17

2024 total: 17

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 12.8

Holidays

Astraea Asteroid Day

Battle Day (Falkland Islands)

Be Someone's Pillow While You Watch TV Night

Bodhi Day (Buddhism; Secular Date)

CARICOM-Cuba Day

Charity Day (Ukraine)

Colorism Awareness Day

COVID-19 Origin Day

Day of Finnish Music (Finland)

Day of Loyalty & Love for Hugo Chavez (Venezuela)

Day of Radio and Television Workers (Kyrgyzstan)

Human Rights and Peace Day (Kiribati)

International Artist’s Day

Ivy Day (French Republic)

Kliment Ohirdski (Macedonia)

Mother’s Day (Panama)

National Bad Hair Day

National Blue Collar Day

National Christmas Tree Day

National Crossword Solvers Day

National Dave Day

National Donair Day (Canada)

National Family Day Darn It

National Health Savings Account Day

National Simon Day

National Students’ Day (Bulgaria)

National Tree Planting Day (Malawi)

National White People Take BLM Out of Your Profile Day

National Youth Day (Albania)

Nations, Nationalities and Peoples’ Day (Ethiopia)

Nicki Minaj Day

Night of the Lizard King

Panama Beach Day (Uruguay)

Pansexual Pride Day

Popeye Day

Pretend To Be A Time Traveler Day

St. Kliment Ohridski Day (Macedonia)

Studrntski Praznik (Students’ Day; Bulgaria)

Take It In the Ear Day

Virgin of Caacupé Day (Paraguay)

Winter Flowers Day

World Climate Day

World Indica Day

World TAPS Awareness Day

World VFX Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Lemon Squeezer Day

National Bartender Day

National Chocolate Brownie Day (a.k.a. Brownie Day)

National Concha Day (Mexico)

National Lard Day

Portland Holiday Brew Fest

Independence & Related Days

Constitution Day (Romania; Saipan; Uzbekistan)

H.E.R. (Humanitarian Empire and Realm; Declared; 2020) [unrecognized]

Taguig City Charter Day (Philippines)

2nd Sunday in December

International Children’s Day [2nd Sunday]

Jashan-e Sadeh (a.k.a. Adar-Jashen; Zoroastrian/Parsi)

Lager Beer Week begins [Sunday of 2nd full week]

National Children’s Memorial Day [2nd Sunday]

Sandwich Sunday [2nd Sunday of Each Month]

Seven For Sunday [Every Sunday]

Sleepy Sunday [2nd Sunday of Each Month]

Sundae Sunday [Every Sunday]

Sunday Funday [Every Sunday]

Survey Sunday [2nd Sunday of Each Month]

2nd Sunday in Advent [3rd Sunday before Xmas] (a.k.a. ... 

Advent Sunday

Love Sunday

Transfiguration Sunday

Waiting Sunday

World Choral Day [2nd Sunday]

Worldwide Candle Lighting Day (7 PM) [2nd Sunday]

Weekly Holidays beginning December 8 (2nd Full Week of December)

Computer Science Education Week (thru 12.14) [Week including 12.9]

Lager Beer Week (thru 12.14) [2nd Week]

Festivals Beginning December 8, 2024

British Independent Film Awards (London, United Kingdom)

Good Things Brisbane (Brisbane, Australia)

Heritage Fire (Charleston, South Carolina)

Mill Valley WinterFest (Mill Valley, California)

Feast Days

Adolph Menzel (Artology)

Afflux (Discordian)

Albert Gleizes (Artology)

Amaterasu Day (Goddess of the Sun; Shinto; Japan; Everyday Wicca)

Aristide Maillol (Artology)

Army Day (Spain)

Astraea's Day (Greek Goddess of Justice)

Bill Bryson (Writerism)

Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (Writerism)

Bodhi Day (a.k.a. Secular Bodhi; Buddhism) (Lunar Bodhi: 8th Day, 12th Moon)

Bodhi Season, Day 8 (Buddhism; Secular Date) [Leading Up to 12.8] (a.k.a. ... 

Principles: Enso

Secular: Bodhi Day Eve

Eightfold Path: Awakened Mindfulness and Concentration

The Heart Sutra: Kintsugi (Golden Repair)

Budoc (Beuzec) of Dol (Christian; Saint)

Camille Claudel (Artology)

Chesty Puller Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Clement of Ohrid (Julian Calendar)

Day of Tiberinus (Pagan)

Diego Rivera (Artology)

E. C. Segar (Artology)

Eucharius (Christian; Saint)

Feast of the Immaculate Conception (Christian) [a.k.a. ... 

Blessing of the Water Day (Uruguay)

Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary (Anglican Communion)

Dia de las Playas (Day of the Beaches or Family Day; Uruguay)

Festa da Conceição da Praia, celebrating Yemanjá, Queen of the Ocean in Umbanda (Salvador, Bahia)

Festival of Lights (Lyon)

Immaculate Conception Day (Christian Nations)

Mother's Day (Panama)

Our Lady of Camarin Day (Guam)

Festival of Neith (Ancient Egypt)

Festival of Tiberinus (Ancient Rome)

Festa da Conceição da Praia (celebrating Yemanjá, Queen of the Ocean; Brazil)

Fiber Projects Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Garlic Bread Day (Pastafarian)

Hanukkah Day #1 (Judaism) [thru Dec. 15th]

Hari-Kuyō (Shinto Festival of Broken Needles; Japan)

James Thurber (Artology; Writerism)

John Banville (Writerism)

Kliment Ohridski (Christian; Saint ) [Malta]

Louis de Bernières (Writerism)

Lucien Freud (Artology)

Marian Kamalen (Christian; Saint) [Guam]

Patapios of Thebes (Christian; Saint)

Pope Eutychian (Christian; Saint)

Richard Baxter (US Episcopal Church)

Rohatsu (Bodhi; Buddhism)

Romaric (a..k.a. Romanic; Christian; Saint)

17 Triads Day (Celtic Book of Days)

The Six Dwarves (Muppetism)

Virgin of Caacupé Day (Paraguay)

Volta (Positivist; Saint)

Wifredo Lam (Artology)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Lucky Day (Philippines) [67 of 71]

Shakku (赤口 Japan) [Bad luck all day, except at noon.]

Premieres

Anne of a Thousand Days, by Maxwell Anderson (Play; 1948)

Babe, by Styx (Song; 1979)

Blade: Trinity (Film; 2004)

Blood Diamond (Film; 2006)

California Dreaming’, by the Mamas & the Papas (Song; 1965)

Cat Napping (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1951)

Children’s Hospital (TV Series; 2008)

Cigars of the Pharaoh, by Hergé (Graphic Novel; 1934) [Tintin #4]

Crouching Tiger, Hidden dragon (Film; 2000)

The Deer Hunter (Film; 1978)

The Disaster Artist (Film; 2017)

Dungeons & Dragons (Film; 2000)

Gandy’s Dream Girl (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1944)

The Holiday (Film; 2006)

The Honey Mousers (WB LT Cartoon; 1956)

Hotel California, by The Eagles (Album; 1976)

In Flanders Field (Poem; 1915)

I, Tonya (Film; 2017)

Little Televillain (Chilly Willy Cartoon; 1958)

Lolly Bomb, by Little Big (Song; 2017)

Luisa Miller, by Giuseppe Verdi (Opera; 1849)

Merry Little Batman (WB Animated Film; 2023)

Moon River, recorded by Henry Mancini (Song; 1960)

Mr. Fantasy, by Traffic (Album; 1967)

My Heart Will Go On, by Celine Dion (Song; 1997)

On the Town (Film; 1949)

Permanent Damage, by The GTO’s [Girls Together Outrageously] (Album; 1969)

Poor Things (Film; 2023)

Pop Gos Your Heart (WB MM Cartoon; 1934)

She-Sick Sailors (Fleischer/Famous Popeye Cartoon; 1944)

Shishkabugs (WB LT Cartoon; 1962)

Silver Streak (Film; 1976)

Sophie’s Choice (Film; 1982)

A Star is Born (Film; 1976)

The Sundowners (Film; 1960)

Symphony No. 7 in A Major, by Ludwig van Beethoven (Symphony; 1813)

Their Satanic Majesties Request, by The Rolling Stones (Album; 1967)

Surfin’, by The Beach Boys (Song; 1961)

Termites from Mars (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1952)

The Unshrinkable Jerry Mouse (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1964)

Wise Owl (Color Rhapsody Cartoon; 1940)

Today’s Name Days

Edith, Elfriede (Austria)

Edita, Euharije, Ljiljana, Marija, Nevenka, Sabina (Croatia)

Květoslava (Czech Republic)

Maria (Denmark)

Külli, Küllike, Külliki, Külve, Külvi (Estonia)

Kylli, Kyllikki (Finland)

Edith. Mariä Empfängnis (Germany)

Patapios (Greece)

Mária (Hungary)

Immacolata (Italy)

Guna, Gunārs, Marieta, Vladimirs (Latvia)

Gedmintė, Guntilda, Vaidginas, Zenonas (Lithuania)

Marion, Marlene, Morgan (Norway)

Boguwola, Klement, Maria, Światozar, Wirginiusz (Poland)

Patapie (Romania)

Marína (Slovakia)

Concepción, Inmaculada (Spain)

Virginia (Sweden)

Potap (Ukraine)

Rohan, Spence, Spencer, Spenser (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 343 of 2024; 23 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 7 of Week 49 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Ngetal (Reed) [Day 15 of 28]

Chinese: Month 11 (Bing-Zi), Day 8 (Bing-Wu)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 7 Kislev 5785

Islamic: 6 Jumada II 1446

J Cal: 13 Black; Sixthday [13 of 30]

Julian: 25 November 2024

Moon: 50%: 1st Quarter

Positivist: 7 Bichat (13th Month) [Galileo]

Runic Half Month: Jara (Year) [Day 2 of 15]

Season: Autumn or Fall (Day 77 of 90)

Week: 2nd Full Week of December

Zodiac: Sagittarius (Day 17 of 30)

[ollieofthebeholder]

And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]|| Also on AO3 and my personal website

Chapter 11: That all my past results in "if"

Gertrude grumbled to herself, more for show in case of observation than anything, as she painstakingly logged the bundles of statements that had come down from Research that morning. The care she was having to take with the data entry wasn’t really feigned. She was familiar enough with technology, at least modern technology, but this particular machine dated back to the early nineties—she was astonished it still turned on, let alone functioned—and her memory of how to use MS-DOS was a bit rusty. There, at least, she had an advantage over Tim, if the penciled notes all over the pages of the thirdhand operating manual next to it were any indication.

At least the wiring had finally been upgraded. It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be an issue, but evidently the machine, old as it was, had proved to be too much for the outlet it had been plugged into. Fortunately it hadn’t caught fire since she had returned, but it had shorted out twice more, only not costing her several hours’ worth of work because of a large black box Tim had installed that turned out to be a battery backup holding enough power to at least allow her to save her progress before the computer shut down completely. The electrician who’d come by had kindly explained to her that the Archives, unlike the rest of the Institute, were still on a fuse box, and had upgraded it to a circuit breaker. Which also meant the lights had stopped flickering ominously whenever the wind shifted.

It was, however, rather an expensive repair, and she was already betting with herself whether Elias would be willing to budget for an upgrade to the fire suppressant system too.

The computer—which, if the notebook sitting next to the manual was to be believed, Tim had named “Mister Megabytes”—was difficult to use, but Gertrude supposed she should just be thankful Elias hadn’t somehow found a punch card system. It was going to be hard enough to upload anything to it, let alone store it. Fortunately, Tim had thought of that, and had apparently cleaned out every antique store and charity shop in the greater London area in search of floppy disks that would fit the beast. (She’d smirked when she saw the neat stack of receipts locked in her desk drawer, and promptly submitted them to Elias. She had hoped the nosy bastard would have had a heart attack when he saw the total, but alas.) Unfortunately, he’d been unable to fit more than a single statement and associated research onto any given floppy disk.

Gertrude had fortunately found a source for them and ordered in a large quantity. Less expensive than the piecemeal way Tim had picked them up, sadly, but still hopefully a big enough bill to make Elias regret a few more of his life choices.

She sighed, stretched, saved her work. Waited until the spreadsheet had finally committed itself to the disk, then ejected it from the computer and tucked it into the case labeled ARCHIVES OPERATIONS in Tim’s neatest block print. Shut down the computer, ran her hand over the CRT monitor to wipe clean the static—whether it actually did anything or not, it made her feel better—and headed to the break room to make herself a nice cup of tea. That done, she locked herself in her office, set up her shields, and settled in to read Tim’s latest report.

It was…interesting. Most of his reports were. She couldn’t tell if it was just that he was interested in everything and liked to chase down rabbit holes until he either hit rock bottom or encountered a badger or if he was simply hoping to head off every single ritual at the pass, but he’d detailed his research into incidents linked to more than half of the Fears in just a few short months. She could see, of course, how all of them might have involved the Stranger, often because of circus connections, but instead they had been about the Hunt, the Slaughter, the Desolation, the Spiral. (The message I am staying away from the sculptor’s work so I don’t have to give you a statement had both intrigued and worried her in nearly equal measures.)

The most interesting part of Tim’s reports was that most of the incidents he had learned about—or at least most of the recent ones—involved the Dark. Frankly, Gertrude would have thought the Dark was the last of the Fourteen to have anything to do with the big cities Tim and Gerard were visiting. They even called New York the city that never sleeps. And yet, here it sat, lurking in alleyways, behind theaters, in the smallest of gaps between street lights. The latest report was at least from somewhere she might have expected; they were in western Virginia, in the shadow of the Appalachian Mountains, investigating several local myths, legends, and traditions that had been handed down by those whose roots were deep in the soil.

Gertrude perused the reports. There were three in particular highlighted as having been recent incidents. One, unsurprisingly, was a rather gruesome murder that bore the hallmarks of Skin’t Tom; Tim was planning to pay a visit to the girlfriend of the perpetrator, who’d sworn he was dead a whole week before the murder. The second was a house fire that apparently started because of too many candles, but according to Tim’s notes, the child who had had them all burning had been in a nearby long-abandoned coal mine with a friend, who hadn’t come out, and he’d been crying about the mouth of the night; he wasn’t sure he would be able to get to him, but he would try. The third had taken place in what Tim termed a “ghost town” a few miles from where they were staying, where the rumors were it had been abandoned not because the coal dried up but because of something that stalked the streets; he was vaguer on that incident, which had taken place slightly more than a year previously, but said it was probably real. In the code he was using underlying the reports, unless she was misinterpreting it, was a statement that gave her pause: I know it sounds like the End or the Hunt, but it’s the Dark.

Not I think it’s the Dark or it looks more like the Dark. Tim was one hundred percent certain of that. Gertrude didn’t know why, but if he was sure, she trusted him.

She thought about that for a long moment as she began composing a reply. Not that she trusted him. She had along ago accepted that she trusted Tim with everything she had in her to trust; it was why she had left him in Chicago without hesitation, why she hadn’t immediately recalled him when he’d finished in Pittsburgh, why she hadn’t felt the need to double-check that everything he was sending her as a reply to his emails was true, let alone helpful. It was helpful, but that was beside the point. The point was that she didn’t for a minute doubt that Tim knew what he was doing and was working in the best interest of the Archives, and in her best interest as well. The thing she had to think about was his conviction that it was the Dark.

She didn’t think the Dark was preparing anything in America. Activity was up all around the world—she’d had several statements her in the Institute, and a few more she’d gleaned from her travels that weren’t as prominent as Tim’s. But the simple fact that the Dark was rising—damn Tim for reminding her of that book, now she was going to have to hunt down a copy, she didn’t have time to read for pleasure these days—meant that perhaps she had misjudged. Perhaps the Dark’s ritual was going to begin more quickly than the Stranger’s after all.

She gave Tim a few instructions, sent him a copy of the statement form—he was no Archivist, compelling wasn’t his gift, and it likely wouldn’t produce much of a coherent narrative, even if he had them write it down, but she could at least let him try—and enjoined him to be careful, then closed her laptop thoughtfully. It was Tuesday. Elias was happily engaged with the budgeting—really, she’d thought when she first realized what was going on that he was putting on an act, but he wasn’t, he really did enjoy the mundane bureaucracy and administration necessary in running a place like the Magnus Institute—so she would be unobserved for at least the next several hours. Which meant that if she pulled a few statements and went downstairs to talk them over, he wouldn’t notice.

Thanks to the computer and Tim’s efforts, she knew exactly where to find the ones she was looking    for, even though all of them were in the wrong place compared to where they should be. She pulled a few out of various shelves and boxes, tucked her tape recorder into her pocket, and headed to the center of the Archives. There was a barely perceptible crack in the floor, and next to it a board that easily levered up when she pressed a certain spot. Beneath it was an iron ring. She pulled it, lifted, and descended into the belly of the beast.

As usual, there as a sticky, unpleasant sensation as she passed below the floor an closed the door behind herself. The Eye couldn’t reach down here, not easily, so she could pass unobserved, but it also meant cutting herself off from her…patron, she supposed. While she had remained human through dint of unceasing effort, she still relied on it a fair bit, and cutting off the contact didn’t help her mood much. She shook it off as best she could and progressed a bit further.

Once she had descended another level, she let out a low whistle. There was an answering whistle from further down the tunnel, or at least an attempt at a whistle. A moment later, an elderly man with a broad, florid face and rather dusty clothes appeared out of seemingly out of the wall. He gave her what he probably thought was a disapproving glare but actually looked rather like a walrus with indigestion. “Gertrude, what on earth are you doing down here et this time of night?”

“It’s one o’clock in the afternoon, Jurgen,” Gertrude said with a sigh. “You really ought to pay better attention to the passing of time. You’re going to end up doing something foolish one of these days.”

Jurgen Leitner limped closer. As usual, he clutched his copy of A Disappearance in one hand and a heavy torch in the other, although what he thought he was going to do with that was beyond her. He was a coward, and a rather frail man, and the most he could do was drop it and run, leaving the light to possibly distract whatever was following him. “If it’s the middle of the afternoon, what’s going on? Has your assistant returned?”

“No, Tim is still abroad.” Gertrude didn’t bother explaining beyond that. Leitner didn’t need to know what was going on in that level of detail, just that he was safe from being spotted by her assistant. “But he sent me a rather…interesting report. I need your input.”

Leitner snorted. “I very much doubt that. You just want someone to listen to you ramble and nod their head.”

“If I wanted that, I would speak to a mirror,” Gertrude shot back, stung. Leitner had ego, of course, she’d known that for years, but did he have to be so crass as to project it onto her? “I do actually need your input. You have expertise in this matter.”

And I have no one else I can discuss this with, she added to herself. She still wished she could discuss it with Adelard; she would have preferred, given her current options, to discuss it with Tim, and probably Gerard, since she was fairly certain at this point they came in a set these days. But with the boys in Esau County and Adelard reduced to ashes, she was left with an addled bookseller who had believed, like Mary Keay, that he could master the Fears. At least Mary had been honest about herself.

She followed Leitner to the room he had set up as his “study”. He kept precious few books on him anymore, and she had to admit she took a perverse bit of pleasure in knowing that his fear of what he had done meant that he was basically reduced to reading nothing but terrible mass-market romance novels of the sort her mother had once thrashed her for keeping under her mattress. Still, he had two chairs and a table, and he invited her to sit, then poured them each a measure of rather expensive wine.

“All right,” he said, settling down and lifting his glass. “What is it you wish to discuss with me?”

Gertrude laid out the folders containing the statements, and felt a bit of satisfaction at his flinch. To his credit, however, he rallied quickly and sat silently sipping as she tried to put them into some kind of coherent order. The very last one she placed was the most recent, the one she had missed by three days and that Tim had locked in her desk drawer under her instructions; she’d sensed the Dark on it right away and brought it down with her.

“What are these?” Leitner finally asked when she didn’t speak. He had to have known she was waiting for him.

“These are all statements involving the Dark,” Gertrude told him. “All from within the last five years. Take a look and tell me what you think.”

She sat down and sipped at her own wine as he began to read, hesitantly at first, then more intensely. She already knew what he was going to see, or at least she hoped he did. He could be quite obtuse at times. Still…this was obvious, even for him.

As she watched him struggle through the third one, she reached for the latest, more out of boredom than curiosity. The handwriting was neat enough, but bold, pressed deep into the paper. The writer had obviously been quite excited about what she had come to say. Likely it was yet another person who had had an encounter with the People’s Church of the Divine Host, or with Robert Montauk himself, or possibly with the bogeyman.

Then Gertrude’s eyes fell on the name Maxwell Raynor, and she began to pay attention.

Manuela Dominguez was not simply a victim of the Dark that had come to relieve her feelings. She was an acolyte, a relatively high up member in the People’s Church of the Divine Host if her statement was anything to go by, and she had a great deal to say about her actions. She had been on the Daedalus, the third astronaut and the only one to not be an unwitting victim of a Fear. Gertrude bristled slightly at her taunt about Jan—how did she know that, she wondered—but the rest of the statement was too fascinating, and filled her with too much dread.

So. She was right. They were ready, just about.

Across from her, Leitner laid the last statement he’d had to read down. “I can see that you’ve picked a good number of Dark statements, Gertrude, but surely you could just as easily have selected the Stranger or the Flesh, so—”

Gertrude handed him the statement she had just completed. Leitner read it, his eyebrows climbing steadily higher and his face growing steadily paler. At last, he looked up at her. “The Black Sun?” he whispered.

“Any day now, I would imagine,” she said, as calmly as possible. Something about that nagged at her, but she didn’t give it a chance to take root. Not then.

Once she had discussed with Leitner how much help he was willing to give—none—and returned to the Archives, though, she probed at it as she began re-shelving the statements. Manuela Dominguez had stated that the time was at hand, that they were giving her one last chance to capitulate and join them. She never would, of course, but…

But why had they waited?

She had returned to London in November. It had been three months since then. Surely they must have decided by now that she wasn’t answering. Why hadn’t they moved ahead with their plans? Were they waiting for her to come and try to stop them? Surely they hadn’t needed to wait.

Or did they?

Gertrude pursed her lips thoughtfully. Somewhere in the Archives, she ought to be able to find evidence of the Dark’s last attempt at a ritual. It had to have been at least a hundred years ago. Maybe that would give her some sort of hint. Obviously it wouldn’t look the same. Space travel hadn’t been possible and science wouldn’t have advanced far enough for them to even know what dark matter and neutron stars were, so whatever Raynor had done back then…whenever it was…would have involved something else. But she could at least get the shape of it, and get an idea of how to disrupt it.

She wasn’t even sure how to disrupt a dark star. Or, frankly, what they thought it would do to bring…what did they call him? Mister Pitch into the world. She was almost curious enough to let it play out, just to see what it would look like…

Wait.

Gertrude froze, one hand on the shelf. The Eye was pushing back at her, she could feel it, but there was something right on the edge of her attention that…

Abandoning all else, she hurried back to the trap door, lifted it, and took the steps down three at a time. The second she was cut off from the Ceaseless Watcher, she drew in a breath and stepped into the first room available. She suffered briefly from that loss of contact, but she could think.

How had previous rituals stopped? Tim’s research had shown that the last attempt at the Unknowing had been disrupted by the Slaughter…but then she thought of the statement she had recorded when it had finally arrived from Pu Songling. The one about the Nemesis, and the failure of the Risen War. She’d idly speculated about what could have possibly disrupted it before deciding it didn’t matter, that she would put it from her mind and go back to figuring out how to deal with the Unknowing. Now, though, she wondered.

What if…what if what they were waiting for wasn’t some moment that would finish the ritual? What if it wasn’t some grand outside gesture that would seal the fate of the men and fully bring the Slaughter into the world? What if, quite simply, the soldiers had been waiting for the Slaughter itself?

What if the Risen War had simply collapsed on its own?

If it had collapsed on its own, if it had needed no intervention to fail…then there were two possibilities. Either the ritual itself had been imperfect, incomplete, they had been missing some key component of it and simply hadn’t known, or…

Or the ritual could not have succeeded in the first place.

Gertrude put her fingers to her lips as the implications of that crashed down on her. If the Risen War could not have succeeded, did that mean the Sunken Sky, too, could not have succeeded? That the Last Feast could not have succeeded? That the Great Twisting could not have succeeded? That the Unknowing would not succeed? If the Unknowing was doomed to failure without intervention, she supposed that was all to the good, as it would mean she could keep Tim and Gerard away from that danger.

But—she stifled the moan that rose, unbidden, to her throat—but if the Great Twisting could not have succeeded either, if it had been doomed to fail from the beginning, then that meant that she could have left it alone and it would have collapsed under its own weight. It meant that her interference was not only unnecessary, but counterintuitive.

It meant that Michael Shelley need not have been sacrificed.

She couldn’t believe—no. She didn’t want to believe that. She didn’t want to believe she had been so short-sighted, so focused on what she thought was her calling, that she had wasted her life and the lives of her assistants.

Poor Michael. Poor Sarah. Poor Tim, because she was putting him at risk for no reason…

Well. No. With him and Gerard safely out of the country for the moment, they were at least out of Elias’s range. And if she was wrong…after all, she told herself, it was only a guess, a wild surmise. There was still every chance that one of the rituals would work.

So. She would allow Tim and Gerard to keep following their path, to keep researching the Unknowing and ways to stop it. Perhaps they would find something less dangerous and volatile than the C4 poor Adelard had obtained for her, something that would nevertheless do the trick. Meanwhile, the Dark’s ritual would likely happen sooner. She would come up with some kind of plan, figure out what she could do if it did work, and then attempt to find out when the ritual would happen. She could do what she did best—watch, and observe, and know. And then she could act, but only if absolutely necessary.

If she was right, then she would tell Tim and Gerard everything. And if she was wrong, she would tell them that, too, and then they would stop the Unknowing together.

But whatever the result, she vowed to herself, she would not sacrifice either of them. She’d grown fond of the boys, and she would never again be responsible for another assistant’s death. Not if she could prevent it.

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Twelve

Poisoned Apple

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

The next few days felt like a fever dream to you, apparently the Guild’s headquarters, the Moby Dick almost crashed in Yokohama. There was still no word from or about Miss Jane which unnerving to say the least for you all. The next few weeks came and gone and life felt normal, a few members of the society returned to Europe to visit family and friends, Emma, William, Henrik, and Lewis, they would be back at the end of the month. So now that leaves you, Dr. Stevenson, Victor, Alexandre, and Gaston alone here. 

Dr. Stevenson and Alexandre were heading out for the weekend, going up to Tokyo to visit an old friend of the doctor’s, and Victor had been invited on a project to help with repairs after the Guild incident so you hardly saw him anyway. So this weekend it was just you and Gaston. You all had returned to the apartment complex now and so you now had your apartment that you shared with Miss Jane all to yourself now, but you didn’t like staying there, too lonely. So now you sat in Gaston’s lounge, he sat on a stood, playing the violin, while you read over the news, then you saw something.

“Hey Gaston.”

“Hm?”

“I think you should take a look at this.” You waved him over and he set his violin down and walked over, glancing over your shoulder. “It seems that gifted are committing suicide with their abilities after a strange fog.”

Gaston’s eyes narrowed as you spoke before he reached up and closed the lid of your computer. “Best not to worry about that, stressing will give you grays.”

You set your laptop aside and gazed out the window, it was raining pretty hard. Gaston’s eyes followed yours, he then looked around the apartment and ran his finger along the bookshelf behind you, not a spec of dust. He smiles and then looked to you. “Say I have an idea. We pack a lunch, go to your father’s estate, start cleaning, find what we can on where he may be, have lunch, bring a book, like an indoor picnic.”

“That sounds pretty fun actually.” You smiled and stood up from your chair, taking his hand he offered you.

“Then let’s be off, my lady.”

—————————

You arrived at your father’s old estate at around noon. You took the key Miss Jane had left you and unlocked the door to the old building, and it was as dusty as ever. Gaston stepped in the hall after you, sipping around to take it all in. “Reminds me of Dr. Stevenson’s manor back in London.”

“I’d love to visit one day.” You replied to his comment as you went to sit over on the staircase, setting the picnic basket and blanket you had brought next to you. “But this place is probably a lot more dusty.”

“Certainly, I honestly couldn’t imagine the doctor letting dust gather on anything.” He laughed to himself and walked towards you, hands in his pockets. “Well then, shall we get started?”

“We shall.”

So you and Gaston began exploring the rooms together, one by one. You showed each other what you found, strange objects left behind from your father that might have been important on a case of his once upon a time. Books in his study were unorganized but looking at them there was no way to organize them for they were all so different. Gaston found photos of your father and uncle along with another individual names “Dr. Watson” your father’s assistant, from what the old stories about him read. You also managed to find older documents from your father that you left inclined to read, they were about his old cases that he took when he was here in Yokohama. Both of you forgot that you came to clean as soon as you walked through the door, there was just so much to look at and see.

So now, hours had passed and now you and Gaston sit on the floor of the main entry, the blanket beneath you as you opened the picnic basket and ate the meal you two had packed, sandwiches, fresh strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, pears, and two apples.

“Strange to think he just left this all behind.” You said, pushing a berry past your lips. Gaston shrugged as he took a bite of a pear slice.

“Your father was a strange man.” 

You laughed at that comment as you picked up one of the apples and took a bite…

Footsteps… walking down the hall

Gaston looked away from you alarmed by the noise, someone was here. His hands rested on his revolver as he stood up, looking around worriedly. “Did you hear that?”

You were to occupied to worry about the question, you eyes were fixed on the bite mark of the apple you just ate from, the fresh was black… it was poisoned. Your mind tried to process if you or Gaston packed this, was it slipped into your bag? If so when? You went to call Gaston’s name but all that came up out was coughs and wheezes as you tried to gasp for breath. You fell to the floor and Gaston was quick to kneel besides you. “(Name)! (Name)!”

Your vision was hazy now and you were just able to see the poisoned apple roll out of your hand and onto a ground where a figure out of the shadows came forth and picked it up. 

Gaston’s eyes were wide with horror as he stared at the figure who held the apple, but the figure merely smiled as Gaston was finally able to speak out his name.

“Fyodor.”

Gaston’s eyes flicked between your unconscious body and Fyodor, standing over the two of you. Gaston tried shaking you awake as the Russian man stepped even closer but it didn’t work.

“Oh ангел музыки, she won’t wake up.” The Russian man spoke, kneeling down to Gaston’s level. Fyodor reached out and brushed the hair out of your face. “Not without me that is.”

Gaston raised up his revolver to rest in between Fyodor’s eyes. There was only a look of pure range on his face. “Wake her up or I will kill you.”

Fyodor’s smile only widened. “Shoot me at this distance with that old gun and you will blow your own hand off along with whatever damage would happen to her.”

Gaston didn’t lower the gun until Fyodor reached out, grabbed the barrel of the gun and lowered it himself. “So I have to play your game to wake her up, don’t I?”

Fyodor nodded and reached out for the untouched apple that was left and held it in front of Gaston to take. “It doesn’t hurt that badly if that’s what you’re worried about. All will be well when you awake.”

“Or I’ll be dead.” Gaston said grabbing the apple from him and looking it over. Gaston brought it to his lips with shaking hands, the composer’s eyes dead locked onto Fyodor’s twisted smile. With all the courage he could muster Gaston bit down on the apple, the flesh of it black like before. He was sent into a coughing fit just like you when he swallowed. He was gasping for breath as he fell into unconsciousness, his breathing heavy as Fyodor looked down at you two, wearing the same twisted smile.

—————————

You awoke with with a pounding headache and your body felt so incredibly stiff, like you had been asleep for days. Your vision was burly and it took a long moment for things to come into focus, you were laying in bed that wasn’t yours, in a room that wasn’t yours, dressed in clothes that you couldn’t see but knew aren’t yours. You tried to move but your muscles wouldn’t respond. The most you could manage was letting your turn fall to the side to see Gaston laying in an identical bed, asleep, dressed in clothes that weren’t his, and now you could also see an IV attached to your arm and one to his own. You could see a table in between the two of you, it had items and nicknacks from your pocket and Gaston’s glasses, but no weapons. When you went to open your mouth only a cough came out, your throat was like sandpaper, how long had you been out?

“Ahh мышь, you’re awake.” You heard a voice from behind you, Russian in origin. You heard a book close followed by footsteps approaching you. You felt a gentle gloved hand reach over and hold your cheek, bringing your face to face him. Before you there was a handsome man, he had black, mid length hair, dressed in white. “Do you know who I am?”

You couldn’t speak and your mind was too foggy to think but you managed to mouth the word no. He chuckled and ran his gloved thumb along your cheek. “My name is Fyodor Dostoevsky, my dear.” He watched as horror formed in your eyes at the mention of his name and his smile grew in his amusement. He leaned down so that his faces was only an inch away from your own. “I see you have heard of me, I have watched you for quite sometime and I promise you this is only the beginning of our game.”

He bent down to press his lips against your own. His lips felt rough and forceful, not kind and gentle like his touch. He reached over and pulled out the IV in your arm which made you wince in pain but he shushed, cooed, a kissed away your tears. He wrapped his arms around you and picked your limp body and carried you over to the arm chair he had been sitting in. With this new position you could see what you were wearing, a long white skirt, a black turtleneck, a white sweater, and white mary janes. He sat you down in his lap and took the book from the side table and opened it, you couldn’t read it because it was in Russian. He sat with you for what felt like hours and the only thing he said was. “Soon, it will begin.”

You didn’t know what “it” was but frankly you didn’t care, you just wanted to get Gaston and get the hell out of here. Soon you heard a groan from Gaston’s lips and your eyes shot over to the man who was coming back to consciousness. Unlike you he had at least some control of his limbs, must be all his endurance from his work with the society. He sat up in his bed his hand unconsciously searching for his glasses in the nightstand, you could now see at least the top of his outfit clearly, a white ruffled shirt, a white vest, a white jacket, white pants, but a bright red tie, it felt off for Gaston to be dressed in such things given his normal attire and personality. You heard a small hum from Fyodor as he also noticed the composer’s state. 

“Good to see you awake as well, Leroux.” Fyodor said as Gaston slipped on his glasses and ripped out his IV which made you cringe. “I see you are as alive as every.”

“I wish I was dead.” Gaston was quick to snap back as he stepped out of bed, but having to catch his balance on the footboard. He paused in his tracks and looked around. “We’re in Mukurotoride, aren’t we?”

Fyodor smiled and nodded, setting his book aside. “That would be correct, I brought you two here so you will be… safe from what is to come.”

“Safe?” You finally spoke, asking a simple question. “Safe from what?”

A low chuckle emerged from Fyodor as he looked at you with those violet eyes. “You were reading the story, gifted committing suicide, the fog…”

Then it clicked for both you and Gaston. The fog is coming to Yokohama and someone is behind this all.

Fyodor noticed the expression on your faces and hummed, brushing his fingers through your hair before standing up and helping you stand along with him. Your legs felt jello but Fyodor rested a hand on both your forearms and hip, keeping you from falling. Once you caught your balance he let go, letting you stand on your own. He walked forward, towards the door in the room and unlocked it with a key in his coat pocket. He glanced over his shoulder at Gaston and you. “Don’t try using your gifts to escape, призрак and мышь. I think you’ll find your abilities have left you.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, concern coming across your face. Fyodor only smiled.

“You’ll see in due time. I’m sure my collaborators would be happy to explain when you meet them, but for now there are preparations to be made.” Fyodor said as he stepped out into the hall and you heard the click of the lock behind him.

Gaston fell onto his bed with a heavy sigh and you came and curled up next to him. “I’m sorry (Name), I have failed you. I let him get to you.”

“We didn’t expect it, Gaston. He took us by surprise.” You yawned in between words and so did he. “We’ll just have to be our own knights in shining armor, get ourselves out of here, escape the dragon.”

Gaston gave a weak smile and took off his glasses once more. “Yes, but I suppose for now we should get some more rest.”

“Agreed.”

You cuddled up next to him and just as you were slipping into sleep’s hold you heard his voice sing, beautiful, gentle, and careful…

“Think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye

remember me once in awhile

promise me you'll try

on that day that not so distant day when you are far away and free

if you ever find a moment spare a thought for me.”

[talentforlying]

re: constantine and technology, he's so bad at it that it's comical.

he didn't have a whole lot of exposure to its evolution outside of his friendship with quantum magic computer nerd ritchie simpson, and now he's old and it's everywhere and he doesn't fucking get it. he's awful with computers, the only washing machines that haven't broken on him are the ones at the laundromat, he got a smartphone once to look important but put a demon inside it to do shit For him (rip the vestibulian), he set up a website once and never looked at it again. makes him very cranky when everyone tells him to update his arsenal because he's tried, man, and it's hard.

on top of your basic old guy stuff, technology doesn't seem to like him, either. (certainly doesn't help that he has a habit of throwing, kicking, smacking, or smashing tech that doesn't work when he needs it to.) vending machines habitually break down around him, chip-and-pin machines at the shops throw up errors, and he has set off more than a few metal detectors just by being in proximity.

there's some argument that can be made about magic interfering with technology, two matrices that should never have intersected etc., but ritchie simpson is Right There combining the two with ease, and even if he's just a quantum theoretical genius, i do think that maguses in the modern age would have figured out ways to let the two meet/marry by now. so what it just comes down to is, either constantine is so bad at it that he breaks everything he touches, or technodemon ritchie is taking sweet, sweet revenge on him from hell. either is equally funny to me.

the majority of his begrudging flirtation with technology comes down to:

chunky dell laptop computer. he uses the same password for almost everything, and the few different ones are all written on a post-it note in a desk drawer. the one thing he's got going for him here is that ever since ritchie hacked his bank account, he's added a couple entangling magic firewalls that will set fire to a hard drive if you try to get in without the authentication invocation to disarm them.

cardboard box full of flip phones, busted smartphones, and sim cards. he breaks/loses so many phones that it's just easier to stock up ahead of time. the flip phones are easy, he buys them off ebay; the smartphones are more of a hunt-and-gather situation. he's not above rinsing out the odd phone repair store/apple store in times of great need, sorry to everyone who needed those things, though he does try to stick to high-end ones so there's a better chance that he's just temporarily denting some rich prick's wallet instead of actually inconveniencing people. he's got free and unlimited network coverage in london, thanks to his friendship with map, but that's highly dependent on whether or not map is pissed at him at the time.

walkman. they were invented while he was in ravenscar and he couldn't really stand listening to the tapes he had for a while after that (reminded him of the band and what happened), but cheryl got him the tenth anniversary model later for christmas and it was well-loved. he gave that one to gemma in 1991 when he was dying, and when he was healed, chas hunted down another one for his birthday.

5gb iPod that holds a hell of a lot more than that, thank you magic. lifted off an ex that was trying to kill him while he was in america, right when it had just come out.

unused e-reader. he was trying to be savvy and up-to-date, but the physical stuff just works for him better. he keeps meaning to give it to chas, but keeps forgetting it exists.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

I'm coming to TARTU, ESTONIA! Overcoming the Enshittocene (May 8, 6PM, Prima Vista Literary Festival keynote, University of Tartu Library, Struwe 1). AI, copyright and creative workers' labor rights (May 10, 8AM: Science Fiction Research Association talk, Institute of Foreign Languages and Cultures building, Lossi 3, lobby). A talk for hackers on seizing the means of computation (May 10, 3PM, University of Tartu Delta Centre, Narva 18, room 1037).

#20yrsago EFF’s cognitive radio comments to the FCC https://web.archive.org/web/20040707154407/https://www.eff.org/IP/Video/HDTV/EFF-ET03-108.pdf

#20yrsago RIAA: Control your P2P kids! https://craphound.com/areyourkids.txt

#15yrsago London cops catch and search a potential terrorist every three minutes https://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/london/8034315.stm

#5yrsago Evil Clippy: a tool for making undetectable malicious Microsoft Office docs https://www.outflank.nl/blog/2019/05/05/evil-clippy-ms-office-maldoc-assistant/

#5yrsago Big Tech lobbyists and “open for business” Tories killed Ontario’s Right-to-Repair legislation https://www.vice.com/en/article/9kxayy/right-to-repair-bill-killed-after-big-tech-lobbying-in-ontario

#5yrsago Twitter users answer the question: “When did you become radicalized by the U.S. health care non-system?” https://memex.craphound.com/2019/05/05/twitter-users-answer-the-question-when-did-you-become-radicalized-by-the-u-s-health-care-non-system/

#1yrago Look at all the great stuff we lost because of inflation scare-talk https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/05/wmds-two-point-oh/#or-your-lying-ears