#Open Source Content Management System

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Content Management System Development in India

Apex Global Solutions India is a top CMS website Development Company In India for Outsourcing CMS Web Development Services and CMS Web Design Services at affordable price. Our Content Management System is cost-effective, saves time, SEO friendly, technical excellence, customized as per your needs and reliable customer support.

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WordPress wird eingestellt

Jüngste Berichte, die eine Einstellung von WordPress behaupten, haben in der digitalen Gemeinschaft weitverbreitete Besorgnis ausgelöst, doch diese Behauptungen stellen die Realität grundlegend falsch dar. WordPress, das über 43% der Websites weltweit antreibt, setzt seinen robusten Entwicklungszyklus mit unerschütterlicher Unterstützung von Automattic und seinem umfangreichen Entwicklernetzwerk fort. Während in sozialen Medien unbegründete Spekulationen kursieren, bleibt die Verpflichtung der Plattform zu Open-Source-Prinzipien und kontinuierlicher Verbesserung standhaft, weshalb es wichtig ist, die Ursprünge und Auswirkungen dieser Fehlinformation zu untersuchen.

Kernaussagen

- WordPress hat keine offizielle Ankündigung über die Einstellung seiner Dienste oder Plattform gemacht. - Die Plattform betreibt weiterhin 43% aller Websites weltweit und führt regelmäßige Updates und Entwicklungen durch. - Gerüchte über die Einstellung von WordPress sind falsch und stammen von irreführenden Behauptungen in sozialen Medien. - WordPress unterhält aktive Sicherheitsupdates, Support-Kanäle und eine lebendige Entwickler-Community. - Bestehende WordPress-Websites funktionieren weiterhin normal ohne Störung der Dienste oder Leistung.

Die offizielle Ankündigung von WordPress

Fehlinformationen verbreiteten sich rasant über Social-Media-Plattformen bezüglich einer angeblichen Ankündigung von WordPress über die Einstellung seiner Dienste. Die Behauptungen waren völlig erfunden, da WordPress nie eine offizielle Erklärung zur Schließung ihrer Plattform oder zur Beendigung der Unterstützung ihrer Millionen von Nutzern weltweit abgegeben hat. Tatsächlich entwickelt WordPress ihr Content-Management-System weiterhin aktiv, führt regelmäßige Updates durch und pflegt eine starke Kommunikation mit ihrer Nutzerbasis. Das Engagement des Unternehmens für die Aufrechterhaltung einer Open-Source-Plattform bleibt trotz der Verbreitung falscher Gerüchte unerschütterlich. WordPress-Entwickler reagierten umgehend auf diese unbegründeten Behauptungen und versicherten den Nutzern über ihre offiziellen Kanäle, dass der Betrieb normal weiterläuft. Nutzer-Feedback zeigt, dass die meisten WordPress-Enthusiasten diese Gerüchte schnell als haltlos erkannten, auch wenn anfängliche Besorgnis durch die Community ging.

Gründe für die Entscheidung verstehen

Da nie eine tatsächliche Entscheidung zur Einstellung von WordPress getroffen wurde, gibt es keine legitimen Gründe für eine Analyse oder ein Verständnis. Die Verbreitung von Falschinformationen über die Einstellung von WordPress hat unnötige Verwirrung in der digitalen Gemeinschaft verursacht, die möglicherweise die Benutzererfahrung und Nutzerbindung auf Millionen von Websites beeinflusst. WordPress funktioniert weiterhin als weltweit führendes Content-Management-System und betreibt etwa 43% aller Websites weltweit. Jegliche Behauptungen über seine Einstellung sind völlig unbegründet und scheinen auf Missverständnissen oder bewusster Fehlinformation zu basieren. Die Plattform hält an ihrer Verpflichtung fest, eine Open-Source-Lösung anzubieten, die es Benutzern ermöglicht, ihre digitale Präsenz frei zu erstellen und zu verwalten, ohne willkürliche Einschränkungen oder unternehmensbasierte Kontrolle über ihre Inhalte.

Zeitplan für WordPress-Support und -Dienstleistungen

Die laufende Unterstützung und Dienstleistungen für WordPress bleiben fest bestehen, ohne absehbares Enddatum für die kontinuierliche Entwicklung und Wartung der Plattform. Entgegen kursierender Gerüchte betreibt WordPress weiterhin sein umfangreiches Netzwerk von Support-Kanälen, einschließlich offizieller Dokumentation, Foren und direkter Unterstützungsmöglichkeiten für Benutzer aller Ebenen. Die lebendige WordPress-Benutzergemeinschaft, die weltweit Millionen von Entwicklern, Designern und Content-Erstellern umfasst, behält ihre starke Präsenz über verschiedene Plattformen und Kanäle bei. Regelmäßige Updates, Sicherheitspatches und Funktionsverbesserungen werden weiterhin nach etablierten Zeitplänen ausgerollt, während das Kernteam der Plattform seinem langfristigen Entwicklungsfahrplan verpflichtet bleibt. Benutzer können zuversichtlich mit ihren WordPress-Projekten fortfahren, da die Infrastruktur und Unterstützungssysteme des Ökosystems robust und zuverlässig bleiben.

Auswirkungen auf bestehende WordPress-Webseiten

Trotz weitverbreiteter Gerüchte laufen bestehende WordPress-Websites weiterhin normal ohne Störungen oder Leistungseinbußen und behalten ihre volle Funktionalität über alle Funktionen und Möglichkeiten bei. Die Plattformzuverlässigkeit bleibt robust, wobei Nutzerfeedback die stabile Leistung über alle Hosting-Optionen und individuelle Funktionsimplementierungen bestätigt. Funktion Status Content-Migration Voll funktionsfähig SEO-Auswirkungen Keine Änderungen Support-Kanäle Aktiv & Verfügbar Nutzer-Community Stark wachsend Design-Flexibilität Uneingeschränkt Benutzererfahrung Unverändert Das WordPress-Ökosystem gedeiht weiterhin, wobei etablierte Support-Kanäle und eine engagierte Benutzer-Community Lösungen für Design-Flexibilität und Content-Management-Anforderungen bieten. Website-Betreiber behalten die vollständige Kontrolle über ihre digitalen Assets, während SEO-Auswirkungen und individuelle Funktionalitäten von unbegründeten Behauptungen über die Zukunft der Plattform unberührt bleiben.

Sicherheitsauswirkungen für aktuelle Nutzer

Aufbauend auf WordPress' anhaltender betrieblicher Stabilität erfordern Sicherheitsbedenken, die durch kürzliche Fehlinformationen aufgeworfen wurden, eine direkte Klarstellung für aktuelle Nutzer. Behauptungen über erhöhte Sicherheitsbedrohungen und Nutzer-Schwachstellen aufgrund einer angeblichen Einstellung sind völlig unbegründet, da WordPress weiterhin voll funktionsfähig ist und sich durch regelmäßige Sicherheitsupdates und Patches dem Schutz seiner Nutzer verschreibt. WordPress arbeitet weiterhin sicher und bietet robusten Schutz durch regelmäßige Updates, trotz unbegründeter Gerüchte, die das Gegenteil behaupten. - WordPress' engagiertes Sicherheitsteam überwacht und behandelt potenzielle Schwachstellen in Echtzeit - Das umfangreiche Entwicklernetzwerk der Plattform pflegt aktiv Sicherheitsprotokolle und Best Practices - Nutzer behalten Zugang zu robusten Sicherheits-Plugins und Tools, die den Seitenschutz verstärken Die Verbreitung falscher Informationen über WordPress' Einstellung stellt das einzige echte Sicherheitsrisiko dar, da sie einige Nutzer dazu verleiten könnte, notwendige Updates zu vernachlässigen oder angemessene Sicherheitsmaßnahmen aufzugeben. WordPress' Sicherheitsinfrastruktur bleibt intakt und bietet weiterhin konstanten Schutz für Millionen von Websites weltweit.

Alternative CMS-Plattformen zur Auswahl

Da WordPress-Nutzer nun gezwungen sind, nach Alternativen zu suchen, stehen mehrere etablierte Content-Management-Systeme bereit, diese Lücke zu füllen. Beliebte Open-Source-Optionen wie Drupal und Joomla bieten robuste Funktionalität, umfangreiche Anpassungsmöglichkeiten und aktive Entwickler-Communities, die bereit sind, wechselnde Nutzer zu unterstützen. Für diejenigen, die vereinfachte, gehostete Lösungen bevorzugen, bieten Plattformen wie Wix, Squarespace und Webflow hochwertige Website-Building-Komplettlösungen mit professionellen Templates und integrierten Hosting-Services. Beliebte Open Source Optionen Mehrere robuste Open-Source-Content-Management-Systeme stehen bereit, um eventuelle Lücken in der CMS-Umgebung zu füllen und bieten überzeugende Alternativen für Website-Betreiber, die nach neuen Lösungen suchen. Während Gerüchte über die Einstellung von WordPress falsch sind, kann die Erkundung anderer Plattformen leistungsstarke Optionen aufzeigen, die WordPress-Funktionen in wichtigen Bereichen entsprechen oder übertreffen. - Drupal bietet Enterprise-Level-Funktionalität mit umfangreichen Anpassungsmöglichkeiten und robusten Sicherheitsfunktionen - Joomla verbindet Flexibilität mit einer benutzerfreundlichen Oberfläche und ist damit ideal für E-Commerce- und Social-Networking-Seiten - Ghost bietet eine optimierte, moderne Publishing-Plattform, die speziell für professionelle Blogger und digitale Publisher optimiert ist Diese Open-Source-Alternativen ermöglichen Benutzern die vollständige Kontrolle über ihre digitale Präsenz und bieten die Freiheit, Code zu modifizieren, Funktionalität zu erweitern und ohne proprietäre Einschränkungen oder teure Lizenzgebühren zu arbeiten. Kostenpflichtige Website-Baulösungen Premium-Website-Builder stellen eine überzeugende Alternative für diejenigen dar, die zuverlässige WordPress-Alternativen suchen und bieten hochentwickelte Drag-and-Drop-Schnittstellen, unterstützt von engagierten Support-Teams. Diese Lösungen priorisieren die Website-Zugänglichkeit und eliminieren dabei die technischen Komplexitäten, die oft mit Open-Source-Plattformen verbunden sind. Plattform Hauptfunktionen Monatliche Kosten Wix KI-Design-Assistent, 800+ Vorlagen 16-45 € Squarespace Integrierte SEO-Tools, Analytik 14-49 € Webflow Erweiterte Animationen, CMS 12-212 € Der Übergang zu kostenpflichtigen Lösungen ermöglicht es Erstellern, sich auf die Content-Erstellung anstatt auf technische Wartung zu konzentrieren, wobei robuste Sicherheitsfunktionen und regelmäßige Updates von spezialisierten Teams verwaltet werden. Diese Plattformen bieten umfassende E-Commerce-Funktionen, professionelle Vorlagen und responsive Designs, die sich nahtlos an verschiedene Geräte anpassen.

Migrationsstrategien und bewährte Verfahren

Die erfolgreiche Migration von WordPress erfordert eine sorgfältige Plattformauswahl basierend auf spezifischen Geschäftsanforderungen, technischen Anforderungen und langfristigen Skalierbarkeitszielen. Der Datentransferprozess erfordert eine gründliche Planung, wobei wesentliche Schritte wie Bestandsaufnahme der Inhalte, Datenbanksicherung, Organisation von Mediendateien und gründliche Prüfung von Weiterleitungen und Funktionalität eingeschlossen sind. Ein realistischer Zeitplan muss mögliche Rückschläge, Mitarbeiterschulungsbedarf und stufenweise Implementierung berücksichtigen, um Störungen zu minimieren und gleichzeitig die Website-Performance während des Übergangs aufrechtzuerhalten. Die Auswahl Ihrer neuen Plattform Bevor Website-Betreiber sich überstürzt für ein neues Content-Management-System entscheiden, müssen sie sorgfältig ihre spezifischen Bedürfnisse, technischen Anforderungen und Migrationsprioritäten evaluieren. Durch umfassende Nutzenanalyse und Nutzerfeedback können Organisationen Plattformen identifizieren, die mit ihren Zielen und Fähigkeiten übereinstimmen. - Statische Site-Generatoren wie Hugo oder Jekyll bieten verbesserte Sicherheit und Leistung, erfordern aber technisches Fachwissen - Vollausgestattete CMS-Alternativen wie Drupal oder Joomla bieten robuste Funktionalität mit steileren Lernkurven - Headless CMS-Lösungen ermöglichen maximale Flexibilität für Entwickler bei gleichzeitiger Beibehaltung der Inhaltskontrolle Es ist wichtig zu erkennen, dass WordPress tatsächlich nicht eingestellt wurde, und die Verbreitung solcher Fehlinformationen kann zu unnötiger Panik und überstürzten Plattform-Migrationsentscheidungen führen. Website-Betreiber sollten sich darauf konzentrieren, ihre aktuellen WordPress-Installationen zu optimieren und gleichzeitig über alternative Plattformen informiert bleiben, die ihren Bedürfnissen möglicherweise besser dienen könnten. Wichtige Datenübertragungsschritte Die Datenmigration von einer Plattform zu einer anderen erfordert sorgfältige Planung, präzise Ausführung und robuste Backup-Verfahren, um die Inhaltsintegrität zu gewährleisten. Jeder, der sich dieser Übergangsphase stellt, muss die Inhaltserhaltung durch systematische, gut dokumentierte Schritte priorisieren, die jahrelange wertvolle digitale Güter schützen. Der Prozess erfordert eine gründliche Bewertung der vorhandenen Inhalte, die Identifizierung kritischer Datenstrukturen und eine sorgfältige Abbildung der Informationsarchitektur zwischen den Plattformen. Benutzer sollten alle Beiträge, Seiten, Mediendateien und Kommentare exportieren und dabei die korrekten Beziehungen zwischen den Inhaltselementen aufrechterhalten. Datenbank-Backups werden von größter Bedeutung und dienen als Sicherheitsnetz während des gesamten Migrationsprozesses. Darüber hinaus hilft ein gründliches Testen der migrierten Inhalte in einer Staging-Umgebung, potenzielle Probleme vor der Veröffentlichung zu identifizieren. Eine angemessene URL-Zuordnung und Weiterleitungsstrategie gewährleistet minimale Beeinträchtigung bestehender Suchmaschinenrankings und Benutzerzugänglichkeit. Zeitplanung und Ausführung Die Planung eines realistischen Zeitplans für eine WordPress-Migration erfordert sorgfältige Berücksichtigung mehrerer Faktoren, einschließlich Inhaltsvolumen, technischer Komplexität und Ressourcenverfügbarkeit. Der Migrationsprozess erfordert die Abstimmung einer strategischen Content-Strategie und proaktives Community-Engagement, um einen reibungslosen Übergang für alle Beteiligten zu gewährleisten. Schlüsselelemente für eine erfolgreiche Zeitplanumsetzung umfassen: - Festlegung klarer Meilensteine mit spezifischen Fristen für Content-Audit, Backup-Erstellung und Testphasen - Koordination mit Entwicklungsteams, Content-Erstellern und Administratoren zur Aufrechterhaltung der Workflow-Kontinuität - Implementierung umfassender Qualitätssicherungs-Kontrollpunkte in jeder Phase des Migrationsprozesses Organisationen müssen sich zu einer rigorosen Planungs- und Ausführungsqualität verpflichten und während des Übergangs transparente Kommunikationskanäle aufrechterhalten. Der Zeitplan sollte potenzielle technische Herausforderungen, Ressourcenbeschränkungen und notwendige Anpassungen basierend auf Community-Feedback berücksichtigen, um minimale Störungen des laufenden Betriebs sicherzustellen.

Die Zukunft von WordPress Themes und Plugins

Aktuelle Gerüchte über die Einstellung von WordPress haben unnötige Panik unter Theme- und Plugin-Entwicklern ausgelöst, die für ihren Lebensunterhalt auf die Plattform angewiesen sind. Die Wahrheit bleibt klar: WordPress gedeiht weiterhin, wobei sich die zukünftige Entwicklung von Themes und Plugins in stetigem Tempo fortsetzt. Entwicklungsbereich Aktueller Status Zukunftsaussicht Theme-Framework Aktiv Expandierend Plugin-API Stabil Verbessert Sicherheitsfunktionen Stark Fortgeschritten Performance-Tools Aktualisiert Optimiert Individuelle Lösungen Wachsend Innovativ Das Ökosystem der Plattform bleibt robust, wobei Entwickler aktiv neue Lösungen und Verbesserungen erstellen. Drittanbieter investieren weiterhin in innovative Funktionen, während das WordPress-Kernteam sein Engagement für die Unterstützung des Plattformwachstums aufrechterhält. Der Markt für Themes und Plugins zeigt keine Anzeichen einer Verlangsamung und demonstriert die anhaltende Vitalität und Bedeutung der Plattform in der Webentwicklung.

Was das für WordPress-Entwickler bedeutet

WordPress-Entwickler stehen jetzt vor kritischen Entscheidungen bezüglich der Weiterentwicklung ihrer Karrieren und der Erkundung von Möglichkeiten in verwandten technischen Bereichen, einschließlich Frontend-Frameworks und Headless-CMS-Plattformen. Viele konzentrieren sich darauf, ihre Fähigkeiten zu erweitern durch intensives Training in React, Vue.js und anderen modernen Entwicklungstools, die den aktuellen Branchenanforderungen entsprechen. Der abrupte Wandel hat sowohl Unsicherheit als auch Entschlossenheit in der WordPress-Entwickler-Community erzeugt, während sich die Fachleute mit ihrer Expertise anpassen, um in einem sich entwickelnden digitalen Umfeld wettbewerbsfähig zu bleiben. Karrierewechsel-Optionen Obwohl die Nachricht von der Einstellung von WordPress Schockwellen durch die Entwickler-Community gesendet hat, haben qualifizierte WordPress-Fachleute zahlreiche gangbare Wege, ihre Karriere zu ändern. Die Nachfrage nach anpassungsfähigen Entwicklern bleibt stark, mit Möglichkeiten zum beruflichen Wachstum durch strategische Kompetenzentwicklung und Portfolio-Diversifizierung. - Front-End-Entwicklungsspezialisierung, die vorhandene CSS- und JavaScript-Kenntnisse nutzt und gleichzeitig moderne Frameworks wie React und Vue.js einbezieht - Übergang zur Full-Stack-Entwicklung, aufbauend auf PHP-Expertise, um zusätzliche Backend-Technologien und Cloud-Plattformen zu beherrschen - Technische Beratungs- und Projektmanagement-Rollen, die tiefgreifende WordPress-Erfahrung nutzen, um Organisationen durch Plattform-Migrationen zu führen Diese Veränderungen ermöglichen es WordPress-Entwicklern, ihre Unabhängigkeit zu bewahren und gleichzeitig in aufstrebende technische Bereiche vorzudringen, wodurch ein Branchenrückschlag in eine Chance zur beruflichen Weiterentwicklung verwandelt wird. Neue technische Fähigkeiten aufbauen Während etablierte Webentwicklungstools große Veränderungen durchlaufen, müssen Entwickler proaktiv neue technische Kompetenzen erwerben, um in der sich entwickelnden digitalen Umgebung wettbewerbsfähig zu bleiben. Die Nachfrage nach erweiterten technischen Fähigkeiten treibt Fachleute dazu, fortgeschrittene Frameworks, moderne Programmiersprachen und aufstrebende Entwicklungsplattformen zu erforschen. Webentwickler können technische Schulungen durch Online-Kurse, Bootcamps und Zertifizierungsprogramme absolvieren, die sich auf gefragte Technologien wie React, Angular und Vue.js konzentrieren. Viele nutzen kostenlose Ressourcen, Dokumentationen und Entwickler-Communities, um das Erlernen neuer Fähigkeiten zu beschleunigen. Read the full article

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The Evolution of WordPress: Over Two Decades of Innovation

WordPress, a name synonymous with blogging and website creation, has transformed from a simple blogging tool into a powerful content management system (CMS) over the past two decades. Its journey from a niche project to dominating the web is a tale of innovation, community, and adaptability. Early Beginnings WordPress was born out of a desire to improve the existing blogging software,…

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Unlocking Business Potential with PHP/MySQL ERP Solutions

In the present computerized scene, ERP (Enterprise Resource Planning) frameworks are imperative for organizations hoping to smooth out tasks and upgrade efficiency. Utilizing PHP/MySQL for creating ERP arrangements offers a strong mix of adaptability, versatility, and convenience, pursuing an optimal decision for associations, all things considered.

What is ERP?

ERP alludes to programming arrangements that incorporate different business processes, including finance, HR, store network, and the sky is the limit from there, into a bound together framework. This coordination takes into consideration better information the executives, further developed work process productivity, and improved dynamic capacities.

Why Pick PHP/MySQL for ERP Development?

Utilizing PHP/MySQL for ERP Development presents various benefits:

Cost-Effective: Both PHP and MySQL are open-source advancements, and that implies lower permitting costs and diminished functional costs.

Flexibility: PHP is known for its adaptability, permitting PHP developers to make altered arrangements that meet explicit business needs. Whether you require a basic application or a complex ERP framework, PHP can adjust in like manner.

Scalability: As your business develops, your ERP framework ought to have the option to develop with it. MySQL information bases can effectively deal with a lot of information, making it simple to scale your ERP arrangement without execution issues.

Community Support:  The PHP and MySQL people group are tremendous and dynamic, giving broad assets, libraries, and systems. This implies that PHP developers can undoubtedly find answers for normal difficulties, accelerating the advancement interaction.

Key Features of a PHP/MySQL ERP System

While fostering an ERP framework utilizing PHP/MySQL, certain highlights ought to be focused on to guarantee the product addresses the association's issues:

User-Friendly Interface: A straightforward and natural connection point permits clients to explore the framework effectively, diminishing the expectation to learn and adapt.

Real-Time Data Access: Carrying out continuous revealing and investigation empowers chiefs to act quickly founded on precise information bits of knowledge.

Customizable Modules: Various offices inside a business might have one of a kind necessities. Adjustable modules take into account explicit functionalities custom-made to different groups.

Robust Security:  Guaranteeing information assurance through secure client verification, information encryption, and ordinary reinforcements is significant in any ERP framework.

Recruiting the Right PHP Developers

To assemble a viable ERP arrangement utilizing PHP/MySQL, recruiting the right PHP designer is fundamental. Here are a few key contemplations:

Experience: Search for PHP developers with a demonstrated history in creating ERP frameworks. Their previous experience can altogether impact the nature of your undertaking.

Technical Skills: Guarantee that the Developers is capable in both PHP and MySQL, as well as related advancements and systems.

Understanding of Business Processes:  A decent PHP designer ought to comprehend your industry and the particular cycles that should be coordinated into the ERP framework.

Communication Skills:  Clear correspondence is fundamental for effective cooperation. Your Developers ought to have the option to convey thoughts really and comprehend your prerequisites completely.

Conclusion

All in all, coordinating PHP/MySQL into your ERP advancement methodology can prompt huge upgrades in your business tasks. By saddling the force of PHP and the unwavering quality of MySQL, associations can make custom fitted ERP arrangements that drive effectiveness and development. Putting resources into a talented PHP Developers will guarantee that your ERP framework isn't simply useful yet additionally versatile to future necessities.

With the right devices and skill, your business can open its maximum capacity and remain ahead in a cutthroat market. Embrace the advantages of PHP/MySQL ERP arrangements today!

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Good Fortunes Coming In The Near Future

This is meant to be a fun, general reading, so it may not resonate with everyone. Take what resonates for you and leave the rest behind! Please take a moment to breathe, focus on your intuition, and choose the photo that calls to you. Each holds a unique message for you!

𐙚 • 𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 1

Your reading suggests a period of financial stability and self-sufficiency approaching soon. There are strong indications of abundance, whether through career advancements, investments paying off, or an overall increase in wealth and comfort. Hard work and patience are paying off, and this is a time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. You may find yourself in a position of authority or influence, where your wisdom and strategic thinking lead to long-term success. This also points to a sense of independence and confidence in managing your resources wisely.

Balance and patience play a key role in what’s coming. You are entering a phase where harmony is essential, particularly in decision-making and personal growth. There’s a need to carefully weigh your choices and move forward with a clear, logical mindset. A rational approach to problem-solving will serve you well, and guidance from a mentor or an institution could provide valuable insight. This could be a time when discipline and structure lead to greater success, whether in your career, finances, or personal development.

Future planning is highlighted, urging you to consider the bigger picture. You may find yourself at a crossroads, looking ahead to new opportunities that require careful thought. Whether it's travel, relocation, or expanding your ambitions, taking a well-calculated risk will bring favorable outcomes. This is a period of learning and growth, where traditional values or structured systems will help guide you forward. Seeking wisdom from trusted sources and staying open to new experiences will ensure that the coming changes lead to stability and prosperity.

❥ ♡ 💜 ♡︎

𐙚 • 𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 2

Your reading suggests that personal fulfillment and emotional satisfaction are on the horizon. A long-held wish or desire may soon come to fruition, bringing a sense of joy and contentment. This could be related to personal growth, relationships, or even a long-awaited opportunity finally manifesting. While there may be external challenges, your internal sense of happiness and self-acceptance will be strong, allowing you to navigate any obstacles with confidence.

However, there seems to be a disruption in stability, possibly within your home life or close relationships. A sense of nostalgia or attachment to the past may be holding you back, making it difficult to fully embrace new experiences. Letting go of old wounds or past disappointments will be necessary to move forward. This is a time for healing, as the worst of a difficult period is finally ending. You're emerging from struggles stronger than before, ready to rebuild with clarity and resilience.

Fairness and truth will play an important role in the near future. There may be a situation where justice is served, or a long-standing issue is resolved in a fair and balanced manner. Staying honest and making decisions based on integrity will lead to positive outcomes. Curiosity and a thirst for knowledge will also be important—new ideas, insights, or even unexpected messages may come your way, offering valuable lessons. Keeping an open mind and staying observant will help you make the most of upcoming opportunities.

❥ ♡ 💜 ♡︎

𐙚 • 𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 3

Your reading indicates that recent or ongoing conflicts may bring unexpected benefits. While there may have been tension, disagreements, or even a sense of competition, these challenges will ultimately lead to personal growth and a clearer understanding of what truly matters. You are learning to choose your battles wisely and focus on what will serve your long-term success rather than getting caught up in unnecessary disputes.

Collaboration may feel difficult at this time, as teamwork or group efforts could be lacking harmony. However, this is a reminder that your personal achievements are not dependent on others. Independence and inner strength will be key to pushing forward. There is great emotional fulfillment ahead, as your desires and aspirations start coming to life. Confidence in your own abilities will help you create the life you want, and your resilience will ensure lasting success.

Expansion and recognition are significant themes in the near future. Opportunities for growth, whether in career, travel, or personal development, are on the horizon. You are stepping into a time of victory and public acknowledgment, where your efforts will be noticed and rewarded. This is a powerful moment for stepping into the spotlight and embracing the success you’ve worked for. With courage, determination, and a willingness to take risks, you will find yourself moving forward with great momentum.

❥ ♡ 💜 ♡︎

If you're looking for a personalized reading tailored specifically to your energy, feel free to message me to book a session or visit my Ko-fi page to schedule one here: KO-FI

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Febuwhump Day 12: Semi-conscious

Content warning: Delirious whumpee

They found Whumpee in the hospital parking lot, curled up in the backseat of an empty car.

It was unbelievable how far they'd gotten. With no shoes, a system addled with enough painkillers to leave someone twice their size seeing stars, and fresh stitches in their stomach, Whumpee had managed to avoid a dozen nurses and sneak out undetected. Nobody had even realized they were gone until Caretaker had come to visit them. The entire hospital had been in a panic looking for them ever since. 

If Caretaker hadn't just spent the last half hour frantically looking for them, they might've been impressed.

Carefully, Caretaker approached the side opposite Whumpee, knocking gently on the glass in hopes of not starting them. Whumpee flinched hard, eyes darting to the source of the noise. For a long moment they stared, pupils blown so wide their eyes looked black. They kept staring, even as their shoulders slumped, fear in their eyes consumed by a hazy listlessness once more. They didn’t move to get out of the car.

Consequences of barging into a stranger's car be damned, Caretaker opened the car door and slipped inside, scooting close to Whumpee. Whumpee simply watched then. 

They looked Whumpee over, sagging in relief when they saw that, beyond a few smugges on their hospital gown, they were unharmed beyond their previous injuries.

Whumpee didn’t speak, only stared with glassy eyes. Caretaker broke the silence. 

"So," they started, trying to sound casual. "Why'd you leave the hospital?"

Whumpee’s gaze slides off of Caretaker, unfocusing. “I…It was…bad in there,” their words were slow and trailing, as if they were struggling to follow their own train of thought. “They wanna hurt me.”

Caretaker reached over and took hold of Whumpee’s hand, rubbing circles into bruised knuckles. They gave the hand a squeeze, silently urging Whumpee to calm down ."Hun, everything's okay, you're just a little confused right now. The doctors want to help you, and they can't do that if you run away."

Whumpee only shook their head. The movement, it seemed, was too much for them to handle. They slowly tilted to the side, body slumping to rest limply against Caretaker’s side, head still faintly shaking. They let out a pathetic whine.

Caretaker had no idea how they’d managed to escape the hospital in their state. Gently, they moved Whumpee’s head to rest more comfortably on their shoulder, using their free hand to text a message confirming they’d found Whumpee in one piece. 

They looked over to Whumpee, slumped limply onto their shoulder. They were bruised and battered, eyes clouded and unfocused, but they were alive. They were safe, and if it took them time to realize it, then Caretaker would give them that time. 

"We'll stay in here until you're ready, okay?"

Whumpee murmured something in response, eyes fluttering shut. 

[gretavanflame]

A Roving Blade ✯ Ch. 1

✯ ✯ ✯

AU Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader x Chris Turpin

Word Count (WIP): 6.2k

Warnings: Allusions to domestic violence and escaping, drinking, allusions to coercion, smoking, allusions to prostitution, violence, intense angst, creepy men, problems with money, intense themes, cursing, pining.

✯ ✯ ✯

“Two shots. Whiskey.”

The bartender nods and turns around. You run a shaky hand through your hair. Your elbow lands clumsily against the countertop and a sharp pain you can’t seem to notice, shoots through you. You lean your head in your hand.

Your fingers drum on the bar top and your left leg bounces on the metal bottom of the stool. Dull pain coats your whole body. Your feet ache from running and you feel so exhausted. The only thing keeping you from collapsing is the adrenaline that surges through your veins and pumps your heart loudly in your ears.

The idea of sleep seems like a distant joke. Something you’ll never have the pleasure of experiencing again. The bliss of unconsciousness.

The stagnancy of sitting feels wrong. It goes against every ounce of sense contained in your tired limbs. Run they seem to say. Run and don’t stop, even if it hurts. You take a deep breath in, holding it to try and calm yourself down. When you let it out you can hear your own trembling.

A feeling. Like you’re being watched. You wonder if this will be your life from now on. Always turning corners expecting him to be there. Looking over shoulders everywhere you go.

The shots come and you take one after the other. The familiar burn coats your throat and the hollow of your stomach grumbles as the alcohol settles in.

A bell rings behind you as the door is opened. Your heart sinks and your head whips to the source of the noise. You hold your breath. 

Two men, unfamiliar, enter. Exhale. You allow your eyes to close for just a moment. The cool night air breezes in and you imagine a moment of peace. How it would feel to be miles and miles away. Someplace like a beach. A place where no one has ever heard of this town or any of the people in it. Your eyes would stretch across the horizon, and you would be free.

The door shuts loudly and your eyes rip open. You’re not at a beach. You’re not free. A pang of nausea hits you. The reality of your predicament starts to set in. The dread leaks from every inch of your skin.

The men walk further into the bar, looking around curiously. Travellers. Visitors. To the untrained eye, they fit in among the burley, tattoo covered men that clutter the room. Some of them crowd the pool table in the back, and some of them sit around you at the bar. They're the kind of men who get hard from the girls in skimpy clothing that fawn over them like cock drunk whores. Then they go home to beat their wives.

You’re not being fair. You know those girls. You were those girls. Are?

Their voices then join the chorus of noise- the yelling and hooting and the blaring Rock n Roll music. They become your background, over to the pool table to disappear. Probably looking to get lucky with a few of those girls. 

You sigh loudly and return to face the bar wall. Shelves and shelves of different colored liquor. A thin mirror that stretches across the wall above the second shelf and the neon signs of various beer brands. You take another breath, finally feeling some reprieve as the alcohol swims around your system. The queasiness is manageable. Like the rocking of a ship. It’s fear of the unknown that’ll get you.

Then the thoughts that seem to follow you around like a pesky fly. A diseased fly. What do you do? Where do you go? More importantly, how do you pay for the drinks you’ve already ordered?

You think to check your purse again. Confirm its contents. You know that won’t help. What your black leather purse contains, falling apart at the handle, is a few bucks, a can of pepper spray, deodorant, mascara, breath mints, a condom and a small metal tin of bandaids. But at least it’s your purse. Yours. And at least the bag sits in your lap so its weight can be of some comfort. 

Another feeling. The feeling of freedom. Exhilaration. It comes to you in the form of giddiness. You could laugh out loud with it. It's only a passing feeling, and it’s just the whiskey, but you’re drunk on it. This could be the start of something. You’re at least an hour or two away. As temporarily safe as anybody temporarily safe could be. The night is young and one to be seized. This could be you now. A roving blade.

Just as you’re about to order another round of drinks you can’t pay for, a voice- smooth and confident.

“Next one’s on me?”

Your heavy head turns to your left to find the shorter of the two men from before. He wears his brown hair long, the waves resting past his shoulders. The second thing you notice is his smile, which is hard to miss. It’s the kind of smile that makes people envious. It’s the smile millions of people spend years and thousands of dollars trying to obtain. You don’t feel envy. You feel drunk. Like those girls at the pool table.

“Okay,” you giggle.

You look down, willing a blush to appear. You smile, and you know you’re pretty. You go through the motions like clockwork, looking back up at him through your lashes. 

A quick look of confusion appears on his face, and his brows twitch together, but he laughs along with you. The sound is light. Airy and sweet. It wraps around you like a hug. The laugh of someone who hasn’t known pain in all their life. 

What he does next surprises you. He takes one of the empty shot glasses and brings it to his nose. Next he motions to the bartender and shoots him one of those smiles.

“Two shots. Whiskey, please.”

You stare at him now. You stare at his lips and their pinkness. The corner of his mouth playfully curls upward, showing just a hint of his top teeth. The arrogance you were expecting doesn’t come. He doesn’t snap or whistle at bartenders, he smiles at them. You feel a genuine blush appear on your face.

He wears dark shades that come just below his full, unplucked eyebrows. Beneath his leather jacket is a band shirt that you can’t read, and a necklace that you don’t understand. It’s a single circular pendant with a symbol in the middle. It almost looks like an ‘m’ with a cross above, and an upside down one below. Your eyes travel down to his dark wash jeans, held up by a belt buckle adorned with a skull and cross bones. Then to his leather boot that rests on the metal of the bar stool.

You provide him more of your attention now, turning your body to face him, subtly squeezing your chest together. 

He watches you back with that slight smirk, possibly waiting for you to speak. You wait for him. He’ll cave first.

“It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Jake.”

A hand is extended towards you, and you slot your smaller one into it. His hands are seasoned. The pads of his fingers are rough, but his palms smooth. 

You keep your grasp on his hand, shaking it slowly as you speak. Your eyes remain focused on his, a girlish innocence on your face. You tell him your name, and he nods, blushing now before finally retreating his hand. He turns to the bar, attempting to hide the grin that engraves itself on his lips. He mutters your name, as if lost in thought. He stays that way for a moment, smiling to himself before turning back to you.

There’s a silence that isn’t unwelcome, and you both watch each other. This is easy. Behind his smoothness is the eagerness of a young man. He can’t be more than a few years younger, but your differences are already becoming apparent. Maybe this is what you need, you think. Something easy. The thrill of the chase had led you wrong one too many times.

He’s just your type too. You imagine what his lips would taste like, and what he would look like under those jeans. Maybe easy is safer. Maybe easy will pay for your drinks.

“What’s your last name?”

“Kiszka.”

“Kishka? Kiszka… Kiszka,” you repeat. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

The shots come and he takes his own, sliding you, yours. You hold them up to each other before sinking them back. You take it while looking right at him. By this time the liquid tastes like water, spreading through you like a flood. 

“What about you?”

“My last name?”

Jake nods.

You pause, mind running with thoughts and answers. You consider telling him. You consider not. You’ve had three shots of whiskey.

The last name of your father and his father before him is presenting on your tongue like an offering. You haven't seen your father in a long long time. Funny how it works like that.

“Got a nice ring to it,” he flatly replies, his tone laced with the hints of sarcasm. His lip curls.

You half gasp half laugh, scandalized. “What’s that supposed to mean!?” Your hand comes to your chest defensively. 

“No, I'm serious!” Jake affirms, mouth cracking into a smile. 

You eye him suspiciously, holding back a smile of your own. He places both hands in the air, surrendering. You blush and laugh, like you’re supposed to.

A pause.

“Take off those sunglasses,” you challenge, crossing your arms, narrowing your eyes. 

He holds your gaze and takes off the glasses one handed, placing them on the bar. Your eyes find his immediately, like they’re the treasure you’ve been searching for. They warm you. Brown, hazelnut, chocolate. However you’d like to describe them. They match his hair, and he looks at you. Really looks at you.

He has the prettiest eyelashes.

The act is intimate, soft. It’s terrifying.

You turn away, staring down at the table, frowning, feeling a shame that you can’t explain and your heart beats a little faster. Jake’s brows tip up in concern. He looks away, struggling through the sudden awkwardness.

The bartender walks by and he catches his attention.

“Hey, can I get a rum and coke?” His fingertips lightly touch your shoulder, holding them just for a moment. “You want something else?”

You force yourself to face him, your eyes closed.

“Hmm. Something tropical.”

He speaks softly through a smile. “Alright.” He turns to the bartender and releases his fingers. “One margarita please.”

You clutch yourself where his fingers touched. Your head spins and you feel your stomach turning.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, Jake.”

“Oh, okay. Are you alright? I can go if-“

“No, no, just… I’ll be right back.”

You stand unsteadily, holding your bag tightly to your chest. You stumble around him to walk to the bathroom. He watches you almost fall, conflicted as to whether or not he should help.

You manage to make it to the bathroom which is surprisingly empty. You reach for the sides of the sink as you bump into a wall. You stare at your reflection, confused as to who the woman in front of you is. It certainly isn’t you. You blink, hard, and when you open your eyes, there’s disappointment. Hello. A layer of black is caked and smudged onto your eyelids. Your red lipstick too is smudged and fading. Your hair is messy, tangled. You look lost. You wonder why Jake wanted to find you.

Quickly you wipe the excess mascara off your face with a wet paper towel. You drop your bag on the sink, riffling through it to find the tube of makeup. You reapply the mascara, then pop in a breath mint before entering the bathroom stall. 

When you finally sit on the toilet, you feel the room spin around you. Usually you can handle your alcohol better than this. It’s probably because you haven’t eaten anything for almost 24 hours. 

Why did you let him order you that drink? He’s probably trying to get you drunk. But that’s part of the plan. You need him, even if it’s just to leave the bar. Then another thought. What if you’ve scared him off? Maybe you’ll return and he’ll be gone. Then the worst part. You don’t only need him. You want him. 

You hurry up, rushing through the motions of washing your hands before walking swiftly back to the bar. The trip is short and clumsy. You catch sight of his leather jacket. He’s still here. You slow down and take a breath. 

All you need is one more drink, and to pile on the flirting, then you’ll have a bed tonight. The disgust you feel is masked by a challenge. You’ll be the next big actress.

When you reach him, you drag a slow hand along his back. Jake turns to the touch, smirking. He stands immediately, helping you to find your seat. You grab his arm to steady yourself, looking up with a knowing grin. You place your bag back in your lap and adjust your hair. You turn back to him.

“Here you go.”

He pushes the drink towards you. You thank him in your seductive whisper, taking the drink. You bring the straw to your mouth, gearing up for the impending wave of inebriation. The first sip is refreshing, but tasteless. The second makes your mouth cold. You flick your eyes to him, confusion on your face.

“It's just water.”

“Oh… but what about the-”

“I canceled the margarita.” He chuckles. “Just drink this. I think you need to sober up a bit.”

You feel a flush of embarrassment, and gratitude all at the same time. This man is full of surprises.

You let the drink refresh you while Jake plays with the straw in his own. He watches you carefully and when he notices you looking at him, he smiles.

“You okay?”

“Yeah yeah, I’m okay.”

He nods.

There’s another silence. This time you can tell, it’s truly because neither of you knows what to say. You wonder what he’s thinking. You hope he doesn’t pity you.

“So are you an ocean girl?”

The absurdity of his question catches you off guard, you laugh loudly. “Yeah I’m an ocean girl.” Your eyes roll.

“What?! You said you wanted something tropical!” He laughs along.

“Jake, we're nowhere near the ocean.”

“Well you’ve at least been to the ocean right?”

“No, I haven’t.”

Jake’s eyes widen. He leans in, speaking with a dramatic whisper.

“You’ve never been to the ocean?!”

“No,” you chuckle nervously.

“Wow.”

Jake shakes his head and turns to the wall. He looks off into the distance, still shaking his head. When he finally speaks, he isn’t looking at you.

“The ocean is… there are secrets in those waves. A sort of calmness that you can’t get anywhere else, Y/n. When you’re looking out at all that horizon-” He looks to you, making sure you’re paying attention before resuming his melodramatic stare into the distance. “The beauty that just stretches on and on-" his hand stretches out before him, "...you don’t have any problems anymore. The world is your oyster.” He catches your gaze again, a cheeky grin on his face. “Pun intended.” He winks.

“You’re an idiot, Jake.” You look away, hiding your crimson cheeks. 

He looks down, smiling deeply. Jake takes another sip of his drink.

“So I take it you’re from around here?”

“No,” you lie. 

“Oh. Where are you from?”

“I’m just…” you look up above the liquor shelves, then at the walls lined with Rock n Roll posters and football T shirts. “I’m from everywhere Jake. I’ve been everywhere.”

“From everywhere, but never been to the beach.” He clicks his tongue. “Damn shame.”

You let out a weak chuckle. You look at him curiously.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from Michigan, and my buddy over there is from the UK.”

You had almost forgotten that he isn’t here alone. Jake points to your right, over at the pool table. Your eyes quickly find the man he’s referencing. It could be no one else. A man stands in the corner, studying the ongoing game. He has bright blonde hair, illuminated by the pool hall lights. It’s cut into a short bob, straight and seamless. His eyes are narrowed in concentration, his lips pursed, but his face, otherwise unreadable. He leans on a pool queue resting under his chin. He has a mustache, a similar jacket, and that same M necklace. He’s completely still. Carved like the statue of a god. 

Your immediate attraction to him catches you by surprise. It’s like a gasp of air after being underwater. It’s like a fist plunging into your chest to squeeze and pull at your heart.

He’s in the middle of a crowd, but somehow there’s a calmness around him. He looks different from anyone you’ve ever seen before. How did you miss him when he walked in?

There’s a girl near him too. She’s undressing him with her eyes. She wears short shorts and a bright pink tank-top with a push up bra that leaves her tits in her neck. She can’t be much older than 18. He pays her no mind. She doesn’t exist to him. You want to exist to him.  

Just then his eyes catch on yours. It happens for such a small moment that it seems imagined. In that moment, lightning strikes through you. The hairs on the back of your neck raise and your heart accelerates wildly. You turn back to Jake, trying to shake yourself out of it. Looking away feels like betrayal. 

“Wow, the UK. I've never been to either of those places,” you laugh a little too loud, cutting yourself off in a forced manner. 

“Yeah…” Jake’s brows tip up momentarily. “It's cold as shit there.” He lets out his own forced chuckle. 

“Hmm.” 

You look ahead, feeling yourself begin to zone out as your fingers continue their anxious rhythm. 

“So what's your story, Y/n?”

“Huh?” 

“I said, what's your story? You know, what brings you here?”

You pause, looking down. A pang of hurt hits your chest. “Well. It’s a long one,” you decide. He seems like a good listener.

You tell him about your parents and how they kicked you out, leading you to move in with your ex boyfriend. You tell him about this morning- how you were broken up with and kicked out. You don’t tell him that you ran away. You don’t tell him about the times he would come home drunk to take his anger out on you. You don’t mention the bruises. As you’re telling him the details of your story you deem manageable, the tears begin to fall and you’re talking more that you should and you can’t stop and you know that you’ve ruined your chances of going home with him and you should feel embarrassed, but you aren’t and you’re more drunk then you want to be and still you’re thinking about his friend rather than the man sitting in front of you and then. You take a deep breath, and sigh. 

His hand is on your shoulder, and you don’t remember how it got there.

“Sorry Jake.” You manage a laugh. It’s swallowed down with a sob. You shake your head as you look down at the three empty shot glasses. 

“No I- I’m.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. He abandons the straw and gulps down the rest of his drink. “Shit, Y/n.”

“Yeah.” You muster every ounce of courage to smile weakly.

Neither of you says anything for a long while.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay Jake. I weirdly feel kind of free. Please, tell me your story.”

“I don’t know if I should follow that...”

“Don’t apologize for having a happy life. I’d love to hear about it.”

You try to smile again, reassuringly. He turns to the wall. He looks off into the distance now, lost. There’s a touch of something on his face. Sorrow. Maybe you had gotten him all wrong.

He takes a breath and puts on a smile. He tells you about his passions for music- string instruments to be specific. When he speaks, he paints beautiful pictures that you could stare at forever. His words flow eloquently, and with so much love that you feel he’s baring you his soul. You learn that he’s on the road touring with his band, Mirador. He explains the necklace to you, his band's symbol. His friend over by the pool table is the other member. Chris, he says. You inhale the name.

They met in college and had just clicked. Jake says they are long lost brothers, not bound by blood. He speaks about him softly and kindly. It’s refreshing to hear of a love that isn’t yours. One that exists in the world, in its purity. All they have is their beaten down car and a few guitars. Even a banjo. They’ve been on the road for a month. He tells you more about his love of the ocean, and traveling. He has big dreams. He wants to take on the world. His ambition is addictive. It makes you see into your own future.

He seems happy. You wonder, silently, what was written on his face earlier.

Just then, his friend appears behind him. He taps Jake’s shoulder, hand lingering before Jake turns to him. They look at each other, exchanging smiles laced with an adoration that leaves you momentarily jealous. 

“I’m gonna go for a smoke break. You coming?”

For some reason you hadn’t expected him to actually have a British accent. His voice is as soft as an angels, and his presence is strong, yet comforting. You look at him curiously, hanging on the edge of your seat to hear him speak again. He’s real, and he’s right in front of you.

The blonde haired man glances at you so quickly that you hardly register it. His face is blank. You don’t exist again. 

He turns to Jake again, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Oh um, yeah. Maybe in a few minutes.” Jake looks at you nervously. “This is Y/n by the way.” Jake smiles at the man and turns back to you. “Y/n this is my bandmade, Chris.”

“Hi,” you whisper, awestruck.

He gives you a curt nod and turns back to Jake. You feel a pang in your empty chest.

“Just come get me when you’re ready.”

“Yeah I will.”

Chris turns to disappear to the back. He doesn’t look at you again. Jake does, smiling. You can’t muster up your own.

You both sit awkwardly. 

“What instruments do you play?” You ask, secretly wondering only about the blonde haired man.  

“Well we both play guitar. There's always the occasional tambourine or shaker. And Chris plays the banjo sometimes. We both sing too,” he concludes, wearing a proud smile.

Suddenly something crashes through you. A need to hear Chris sing. You imagine the sound would be soft as glass. Sweet as bells. 

“Hey I’m gonna- go for that smoke break.” Jake smiles politely. “You’ll be okay here?”

You scrunch your face up. His concern for you tastes bitter. “Yeah, of course.”

Jake touches your shoulder again as he stands. You want to turn, try and catch sight of his friend again, but you force yourself not too. The bell rings as the door is closed and the two men step out into the night air.

-

Chris fumbles with his pocket for the pack of cigarettes. Jake searches his for a lighter.

Neither of them speak as the cigarette is placed in Chris’s mouth and lit by Jake. He takes a deep inhale and closes his eyes. The smoke is held before it floats from his lips and into the air. His opened eyes fall on Jake as he passes him the cigarette. A look is exchanged. No words need to be.

“I know.” Jake takes the cigarette, looking away as the anger begins to bubble inside him.

“This is a bad idea.”

“I know!” Jake raises his voice.

The cigarette is passed back. Chris takes another hit. The two of them don’t say anything for a minute, just letting the sweet smoke calm them down. 

“She’s in pretty bad shape, Chris.”

Jake still doesn’t look at him. Chris sighs deeply. 

“I don’t know how you see this ending.”

“You know what. You’re right.” Jake turns to him now, the anger spitting out of him. “I’m sorry that I’m not always 5 steps ahead of our every move.” A hollow laugh. “We can’t just leave her. I don’t think she has anywhere to sleep tonight, and you didn’t see the bruises on her arm. If we leave her, somebody in there is gonna mess with her, and I just…” his voice trails off.

“Just what? Don’t act like you weren’t planning on sleeping with her.”

“Come on man! Do you really think I would do something that low? She needs help.”

“Oh so you’ll fix her up and then sleep with her?”

Jake holds his breath. They glare at each other, tensions rising. Jake hits the cigarette, passes it back.

“She needs a bed to sleep in tonight, okay? You don’t have to lift a finger. Tomorrow we can just… we’ll just figure out what to do okay? We cannot leave her.”

“Tomorrow morning, she’s gone. We don’t have the time for charity, and we don’t have the money.”

Chris drops the cigarette and smashes into the ground with the toe of his boot. He walks past Jake, bumping his shoulder harshly as he reaches the front door. Jake takes one final breath, and follows Chris back to the bar. 

-

You stare curiously at the muscle in front of your face. It seems to bulge out, stretching the skin, threatening to break it. There's a woman, drawn delicately into that skin. But there's nothing delicate about her huge tits that seem to spill out of her shirt.

You take a gulp from the drink placed in front of you. The alcohol swirls and swims, making your brain all foggy. You look back to him, watching as his lips move, his words getting lost. Or maybe they just don’t matter.

“Who the fuck are you?” A voice calls out from behind.

You turn, finding Jake with Chris at his side, both walking over to you swiftly. You look from Jake to Chris, confused. They both look angry. As you’re about to remind Jake of who you are, he walks right past you and up to the man seated next to you. Jake taps him harshly on the shoulder.

The man springs up from his seat. He stands high above Jake, looking down menacingly. You watch the scene unfold as if through a screen. It doesn’t seem real. All you need now is a bag of popcorn. Jake doesn’t seem intimidated. This is truly great acting, because you would be intimidated. This guy looks like he could kill Jake with a single punch. 

“I could ask you the same fucking thing,” the man spits back, wasting no time in getting right into Jake’s face. 

Chris slips between them, gently pushing Jake to the side. Chris, although still shorter than the muscle man, seems a better match. He has the advantage of calmness, and he speaks slowly and clearly.

“That woman you’re talking to, is my girlfriend, you twat.”

The man takes a step forward, laughing. His arm raises. Quickly, you reach into your bag, stepping up to him and spraying his eyes with the pepper spray. He screams and clutches his face with his hands. What happens next, happens so fast that you can’t seem to register it. Chris grabs your arm. He pulls you hard towards the door. The bar erupts in noise and your head spins. You stumble all the way to the outside cold that chills you through to the bone. Chris lets go of you, and you fall into his arms.

For just a moment, your head rests on his chest, and you can smell him. Lavender and tobacco. You breathe deeply, still inhaling when he gently removes the arms that have secured themselves around his waist. When you realize what you’ve done, you step back, embarrassed. You exchange a quick glance, looking away when your eyes burn into each other. 

You step over to the brick of the building. Your back hits the wall and you slide down to a sitting position. You feel like you’re in a time out.

Moments later, Jake returns. Relief is on his face when he sees you’re both alright. He shoots Chris a look. It seems to say, I was right.

Chris ignores him. 

“Did you get the tab?”

“Yup.”

Jake comes over and helps you stand. You clutch his arm and stumble along as the three of you start to walk. The walk is calm, and short. The air seems to sober you up, and as you take in the sight of the stars- the only thing of beauty in this town, you don’t even realize you’ve arrived at your destination. 

A couple cars are scattered around the parking lot outside the motel. The only source of light comes from a bulb that sits right outside a door in the middle of the building. The other two wings of the building are concealed in darkness. A quiet holds itself over the air, like a cloak. It’s the quiet of hiding. A chill runs down your spine. This isn’t the nicest part of town.

Chris says goodnight and retreats to his room, a few doors down. You and Jake stand outside of his. Jake’s head swivels, taking in your surroundings suspiciously before reaching for a key from his pocket. For a moment he fumbles with the lock. When the door opens, Jake guides you inside, quickly. It shuts with a deep boom and the lock clicks with a metal shiver.

Jake switches on the light and a small room is unveiled. A single bed sits next to a window and across from it is a small TV. You walk further inside to find a bathroom across from the window. 

You walk to the bed and sit down. Your whole body sinks like a dead weight. It’s a miracle you’re able to stay upright. 

You watch Jake take off his leather jacket, and fling it onto his open suitcase. He smiles at you, awkwardly as he turns to enter the bathroom. He closes the door.

As soon as he leaves, the room feels huge. You’re alone on the bed and there's so much space around you. You can’t tell if the space is suffocating or freeing.

The walls seem to trap in musty air and the window curtains have stains on them. The wallpaper is a dull tan color, the popcorn ceiling a bright white. Everything in the room looks worn-in. There’s a small mirror on the wall next to the TV, facing the bed. What an odd placement. You walk over to it, inspecting your appearance.

You don’t look much different to how you did in the bathroom. You turn to the side, then back to the front. You stare at yourself, taking a long, steading breath. It’s now or never. Slowly you take off your jacket, throwing it to the floor. Next your shoes and socks, and then your tank-top. A queasiness starts to form in your stomach as you remove your skirt to join the pile. It climbs up your throat. You watch your reflection undress herself until she’s in just her bra and panties. You feel something for her. Pity, maybe. Guilt.

A tear falls from your eye as you slide the bra straps over your shoulders, then unclip the back. Finally you hook your fingers into your underwear and pull them off your body.

You stare at your naked reflection. From your chest to your ankles, bruises of varying color decorate you. Who is this woman?

Suddenly the toilet flushes, followed shortly by the sound of running water. Quickly, you wipe away the tear and climb on the bed, positioning yourself above the covers to face the bathroom door. You attempt to make yourself look presenting. You lay on your side, head propped up on your hand. The door clicks unlocked. 

It opens. You hold your breath. Jake appears, still looking inside the bathroom where he switches the light off. He wears a mundane look as he steps into the room. Then, his eyes fall on you.

It takes him a moment to register the scene before him, but when he does, his eyes widen in shock. Quickly he covers them with his hand, turning around just as swiftly. When he faces the bathroom wall, his hand still covers his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n.”

Your stomach sinks. This isn’t what he wanted. You’ve disappointed him. He. Doesn’t. Want. You.

Instantly a lump forms in your throat.

“I thought I had t-,” your voice quivers. 

“No. No no no, you didn’t. I- I didn’t mean to make it seem that way.”

Jake uncovers his eyes, still facing the wall. He puts his hands on his hips and lets out a sigh, looking up as if searching for more words. You slip under the covers, pulling them up to your neck.

“I was gonna sleep on a camping mattress I have, and give you the bed.” 

“Oh,” you reply quietly. Embarrassment is an understatement.

“You can turn around. I’m under the covers.”

Jake turns around slowly, cautiously. His eyes dart to your face and he chews on his bottom lip. His arms cross in front of his chest.

“Can you pass me my shirt, please.”

You stare at the white flowers on the duvet cover. 

He nods and walks over to your pile of clothes. He cringes as he tosses your underwear aside to grab the shirt. The guilt overwhelms him. He didn’t mean to make you think…

“I’m sorry Jake.”

“No. It should be me who’s apologizing. I feel terrible.”

He hands you the shirt, looking at you with the softest expression he can manage.

“It’s okay, I promise.”

There's a question brewing in your mind. The answer frightens you.

“Why have you done all this for me?”

“You mean let you stay here without the exchange of sexual favors?” His lips curl into a nervous smile.

You feel for a moment like you’re back at the bar, laughing at a stupid joke. Your own smile warms your face, and you nod, still avoiding his gaze.

“I couldn’t just leave you in there.”

Your face twitches as if it's been struck. You nod again, bittersweet. Your fingers fidget with the rough blanket. 

“I just… don’t want to be somebody else’s responsibility.”

“No!!” Jake walks to the side of the bed, almost forcing you to look at him. He says his next words carefully, pleadingly.

“Please do not think of it that way. Everything I did, I did because I wanted to. We’re friends now, right?”

You watch his face. It’s strained and tired, and his eyes sparkle. Your eyes brim with tears. A “thank you,” is all you manage.

His face softens, and you watch each other silently. He looks down and turns to rummage through his suitcase. He pulls out a tightly rolled up mat and places it on the floor. He turns to you awkwardly, but you’re already handing him a pillow.

“Thanks.” 

Once his bed is made, he takes a step towards the door.

“Can I… turn the light off?”

“Yes.” 

With a small click, the room blackens. A sliver of light is let in from the thin curtains. You remember from your star-gazing that tonight is a full moon.

“It’s a full moon, Jake.”

Somehow, in the dark of the room, you can see his smile. The moonlight seems to shine and bounce off the whiteness of his teeth.

“I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

You smile, although he cannot see you. Your heart warms.

You hear the thud of boots being kicked off and once he’s laying down, you can’t see him. It’s like you’re alone again. There's the scratching sound of his shirt on the makeshift bed material as he shifts around uncomfortably. After a minute, the sound stops. He gives up. You would have offered him the bed if things had gone more smoothly. You really would have.

“Goodnight Jake.”

“Goodnight Y/n.”

You peel your eyes away from Jake’s direction, turning them towards the ceiling. You try to find shapes in it, like you did when you were a kid. There aren’t any. Your mind wanders, reliving the events of the day. Then this memory, and that. You want to feel the way people feel after a hard day's work. You want to feel like you’re at home, but you feel stuck in step one. Tomorrow is step one again, and maybe the next day will be too, and the day after that. Or maybe tomorrow won’t be so kind, you think.

Soon the sound of Jake’s snoring picks up, and only then do you slowly remove the covers from your naked body. You collect your underwear from the floor, check your bag one more time, and go into the bathroom. You relieve yourself, clothe yourself, and climb back in bed.

The sleep that comes takes patience. It’s a light, dreamless sleep. You fall into it thinking about the oddest thing. Chris, and the way his face hardened, just slightly, when Jake touched you. Why?

.

.

.

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[the-bar-sinister]

So out of curiosity what are you using to make your webbed site???

Maybe it's because we're used to microlabel communities but we usually see carrds or rentrys, yours looks more like a neocities or uhhh we forgot the name of it but the blog platform also owned by tumblrs — OH WE MEAN WORDPRESS. Yours looks like a WordPress or a NeoCities.

We definitely do not have the coding skills necessary to make something so smooth looking but like, your site looks cool. ^.^;;;;

Thank you so much for the kind words <3

It's a wordpress! And actually it takes absolutely zero coding, it's as easy as setting up a tumblr.

This is what my back end looks like.

I use wordpress because it's what I've been using for over a decade, its open source and highly customizable, I can take it anywhere, I can put as much content on it as I want, and I can arrange that content however best pleases me. *puts fingers together ominously*.

In my online world, it's always 2010 ;)

OH OH.

Important clarification though!!

"wordpress.com" is owned by the same guy as tumblr.

"wordpress" the content management system (which I use) is free and open sources, and is NOT owned or affiliated with wordpress.com or the guy that owns tumblr.

[in-kensington-gardens]

"And I swore I wouldn't curl up in the palm of your hand... But you let your eyes linger on me, and I suddenly can't make a fist."

🌿 kaji ren

Synopsis

You were never too discreet with your fondness for him, and he was never too good at letting people in. And for awhile, it didn’t matter. You settled in the space of friendship, content with your place in his life. But why was he not satisfied?

character: kaji ren x gn!reader word count: 1,897 tags: reader insert, raw confessions, slightly aged up, friends to lovers (if you squint), emotionally constipated kaji ren so i make him face himself

warnings: none

At the instant you tore him a piece of your heart—right away, he knew. It would never be the same for him.

It was then back in sophomore year, when the streets of Makochi haphazardly brought an unsuspecting you, suddenly caught in the crossfire, and Kaji Ren had to throw a punch or two with the tingling from his knuckles exploding into his system. It was when you pushed your soaked suede boots into a warm Café Pothos, hair sticking to your flushed face from having braved the downpour just to meet him, that a dreadful feeling crept behind the cages of his rib, prickling ever so quietly at his chest. It was when you started taking a bit more space in his routine, during patrol when the sun dipped on the horizon, and you would check up on him, that his clammy palms felt too apparent from the uncertainty of your presence.

It was when he could sense your gaze dawdle a little bit on the frames of his thoughts, when your words would thin out into an ellipsis in the discourse, that he suspected a secret dancing on your tongue—one that would ruin him if you did so much as whisper it. With his hands behind him, fingers crossed, he hoped for you not to say it. Don’t. He would not know what to do with himself.

But it was one evening, in June, with the town half-asleep and the hums of the night harmonising with Ren’s quickening heartbeat that you let out the string of words he wished you would never make known. Somewhere between your ‘I like you’ and ‘I don’t think I ever tried to hide it’ hung the silence of his chest—and in it a dropping sensation, like his heart plunged to his gut.

It was painfully obvious, but perhaps the unspoken was a thread Ren held onto dear life for, afraid of the screaming pit right below him if the cord thinned out from the truth. He hoped desperately for you not to say it, for you not to snap his only source of sanity. He knew right away, that if you looked him in the eye and told him he meant something to you, it was trouble he could not solve with his fists.

He could not think straight, and yet, he went with what he thought was best to save himself… from what exactly? He had no sliver of an idea. All he knew was in that moment, you existed, to his doom, and if he did not right his feet now, he could end up with a gash he would only want you to mend. A thought so terrifying to Kaji Ren, he could sense his throat dry up.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing he managed to utter. Timid, hoarse—as if he himself strained to say it. A part of him thought he needed to hear it more than you did.

You gave him a smile so surely infallible. “I’m okay, Ren. I only wanted it out for the sake of letting you know,” reassuring him none of it would change the way you have been to each other.

But you could not have been more wrong. To Kaji Ren, it changed everything forever.

It started with a slow dance. Between the fear of being known and the ache of wanting to be, tearing the floor open, his footsteps found their way to a new safe distance from you—within reach, but never quite touching... afraid that if you met his skin, he’d melt away to your mercy. He was never the same proximity as yesterday though, and every day, he inched just a little closer. He was well aware of the shortening gap despite his ‘I’m sorry’ from that night in June, but between the fear of being known and the ache of wanting to be, his body trembled at the warmth yours left in its wake.

He started to reach for your hand in every moment you went for the door, but his would freeze and hang suspended in the air, twitching at the realisation that he had given that fortune up when he said he was sorry. His eyes started to drift faintly to the pads of your fingers, staring too much as if willing it to trace his scars carefully. He started to wonder what it would be like to let you touch him in more ways than one, past skin and bones—and he started to ache in his chest, from a want so clever and bold, he wanted to take his apology back.

You acted the same as you had always, just as you said. And it messed with his head when he appeared to be the only one affected.

It was after one of Furin’s clashes with another bandit territory that he was limp on your couch, lips busted with a gaping cut and bruises on the left of his face. He wore a glare of profound irritation, you surmised his altercation with the other group put him in too much of a bad mood. But if the deep furrowing of his brows and the crease on his forehead said anything about his mood, in truth, it was frustration from the intimacy of your warm body adjacent to his cold skin. From the mindful brush of your knuckles on his cheek in patching him up, to the awful confusion of having no idea how to deal with his feelings. Too close, he could feel his pulse drumming from his ears.

You cocked a brow, lightly placing a finger or two on his forehead, softly ironing out the wrinkles from the face he was making under the bangs.

“Relax,” you said with a quiet laugh, in a probably too casual tone for Ren’s own good that he simply abandoned his better judgment.

“How are you so unaffected?”

You paused, fingers falling dead on his temple as he looked up at you from his seat. His dark grey eyes pierced their gaze into yours, never minding the mingling breaths from the closeness, and they seemed to be harbouring a raging storm straining to tame itself. Something you cannot understand.

The question came out of nowhere, and he downed into your stare so firmly, as if bracing for the answer. You blinked. “You’re here now, aren’t you? You could’ve gotten out worse, but you—”

“That’s not what I—” A sigh fell off his half bleeding lips, head dropping back into the headrest as the lump on his throat bobbed up and down from swallowed contention. His stare was glued to the ceiling, and you stepped back, fingers leaving a burn on his forehead, feeling some tension you were not made aware of as you wait for him to add on his thought.

There was a brief silence before he continued, “You were never too discreet with how you looked at me. It was obvious—from the start. I always knew.”

Stillness misted around the room once more, smoking into the cracks of the walls and the space between you and him. Save for the shuffling from his tearing away off the cushion, you could hear a pin drop. Ren bent over to his legs, elbows resting on the tip of his knees as he rubbed on his eyelids with weary circles.

“But I had hoped you wouldn’t say it,” he mumbled in a hushed tone, you almost didn’t catch it. You could not muster up any response, and he seemed as though he had more to tell you, so you let him ruminate in his mind, catching wandering thoughts that swayed capriciously. A quiet sigh left his mouth again. “I desperately hoped you wouldn’t say it out loud... else, I’d have to face it, too.”

“You finally knew what I meant to you...” He trailed off, the last note on his musing drifting into the air, breathless at the height of his emotions. “But I was still stuck on wondering why I was always so out of breath around you.”

Feelings hitched at his throat, and he pushed them down with a gulp. His fingers drummed a slow beat on jeans-cladded thigh, and he seemed to be debating what he would say next. You allowed him time, watching the way his own brows furrowed and uncrossed themselves as he was pondering.

“I was never good at feelings. I was scared.”

It was no secret. Kaji Ren was a man of few words, the everyday lollipop in his mouth stuck for the purpose of barring himself from saying too much past what he would be willing to admit. But the high walls he perched and built through his own calloused hands need not be said—it was a towering piece of evidence: he wasn’t one to let people in.

And it was fine. You respected his space.

“I feared that if I opened myself to it—to you just a little more than I usually do, I’d be giving you the power to hurt me.”

You could feel your own breath shortening, lungs tightening, hardly catching up to the racing of your heartbeat.

“And I swore I wouldn’t curl up in the palm of your hand...” The unexpected softness in his voice did not go by unnoticed. His tone small, only just under the breath, struggling to come alive at his utterance, as if he had sledgehammered his brick walls down to let you see him inside as weak as a whisper. “But you let your eyes linger on me, and I suddenly can’t make a fist.”

You opened your mouth to say something—something to give a pause to the rawness spilling all over the place. Something to slow this all down when you could narrowly suck an air in. But he had more to say, and you could sense the unplanned urgency in his speech.

“I can’t fight back. I think I’ll unravel. I think that I don’t mind being seen, being touched, if it’s you—” A tightening in his throat nearly choked his words down, and he corked up the stumbling by the skin of his teeth. “I think I’m okay if I surrender myself to you—and that scares me.”

The hindmost sentence came out in a hiss, as if it scalded his tongue to admit.

“But I’m more terrified of letting that chance pass up, never knowing how it feels to be held by you, when it’s staring me at the face.”

A pause.

A short silence, allowing his feelings to sink into your own, colliding right in the pits of your chest where your heart rests undeterred. You did not know what to do with yourself.

“So, if I’m not too late... I would really...” He spoke with a sigh, running his hand through his hair, the sweating of his hands too familiar. “I’d really love to hang out with you. I’d love to figure this out with you.”

It was after waging a battle with clutches borne out of personal grievances that Kaji Ren waged a war with his own feelings. Through his rare moment of laying his armour down, cutting himself open for you, not once had he shot his gaze at your direction.

But this time, he finally looked you in the eye.

“I wouldn’t mind resting in the palm of your hand, if you promise I’ll be safe in it.”

[covid-safer-hotties]

Opinion: Better protecting schools from COVID is within reach - Published Aug 17, 2022

This article was incredibly well sourced and correct: Why are these simple procedures not being implemented to keep children and teachers safe two years from publication?

Welcome to the “Live with COVID” era, where living with the virus means not talking about it at all. We’ve been told to pretend it’s over, though those “weird summer colds” and “lingering symptoms” indicate otherwise. Rising case rates, hospitalizations, and deaths. Best Summer Ever 2.0 is ending, which means kids are about to return for their third pandemic September.

Article content In the beginning, we were told that 1) kids don’t get COVID, 2) they do, but it’s mild, 3) vaccines alone will protect us, and 4) COVID does not spread in schools. While true that fewer children die from COVID than adults, they’re generally not supposed to die.

And kids are experiencing disabling long COVID, with estimated rates between two and 25 per cent of all infections, not counting reinfections. While vaccines mitigate the worst outcomes of COVID, they don’t completely stop transmission, and additional measures are required. And of course, as every parent knows, children don’t keep their germs to themselves. They go on to transmit to their teachers, parents and grandparents. Furthermore, outbreaks in schools do spread to the community.

Schools need to be safer for all students and staff, including those with medical concerns and vulnerable family members. Worker shortages are everywhere, education included. Sick teachers can’t teach, and more worryingly, may go on to develop long COVID, resulting in time away or even retirement.

It’s also harder for kids to learn when they’re sick and more absences means losing more time when so much has been lost to the pandemic. Looking at the Calgary Board of Education’s absence data, 6.3 per cent of students were away in April 2022, compared to 2.8 per cent in 2019. This is unsurprising, as there were essentially no protections in schools by June, despite low vaccination uptake and no vaccines for kids under five. No testing, mask mandates (Education Minister Adriana Lagrange outlawed those), enhanced ventilation nor in-room filtration (again, banned by the CBE). Yes, hand sanitizer was plentiful, but that doesn’t stop a virus that spreads through the air.

We can make schools safer for kids and their communities, but it means we have to talk about COVID. We need to acknowledge that COVID transmission is predominantly airborne, so that citizens have a framework for understanding risk. The smoke analogy, used by the Public Health Agency of Canada, and chief public health officer of Canada Dr. Theresa Tam, is an excellent metaphor.

There are multiple ways to make schools safer. Adequate ventilation, with a minimum of six fresh air changes per hour, mitigates build-up of viruses floating around in the air. Even opening windows/doors can be effective. Ventilation can be monitored through measuring the CO2 concentration in the room, essentially showing how much air one may be breathing in that was exhaled by someone else. Boston Public Schools is doing this and even has a public dashboard to share data. Upgrading filters in ventilation systems helps too, but as of May, the CBE has not completed this at any of their schools.

An additional intervention is filtration units like HEPA filters, or even homemade Corsi-Rosenthal boxes, to remove and trap virus particles. The CBE’s own risk management consultants acknowledged the effectiveness of this intervention.

Article content And we need to reinstate universal masking in zones where high community spread is identified, emphasizing respirator-style (N95 or KN95) masks for everyone. Information released in Alberta showed that schools with no mask mandates had three times more outbreaks than those with masking, confirming similar data from Arkansas and Massachusetts.

Pretending that COVID is over doesn’t it make it so. And it doesn’t help us “live with COVID” either. Yes, people are tired, we all want to move on. But making schools safer is fully within our reach. And until COVID is actually over, we can’t pretend our way out of it. So Alberta parents must demand the safety of their children and their teachers, or our leaders will simply go on pretending.

[agentwriter]

So, I sort of got an Operation Blackout headcanon. Real angsty too to go with the whumptober vibe so be prepared-

I saw a couple days ago a post about how canonically Rookie was doing the laundry when Herbert nabbed him, and I went “damn, that’s anticlimatic” because I imagined things going a lot differently. Picture this scenario:

Rookie is taking a walk around, knowing damn well that he’s one of Herbert’s targets by being the EPF’s Comms lead, if G and Dot’s kidnappings mean anything. He’s been getting bad vibes all day, so he’s been trying to keep his nerves on check by not worrying too much, maybe it’s just the growing coldness getting to him? Or the lack of sunlight despite being day leaving him uneasy? Either way, he continues on, hopeful that Herbert hasn’t caught onto his location yet, even if he’s obviously the least careful around his secret identity of all agents with how much stuffed he has leaked to the media along the years.

He tries to chill out, and that goes fine until Rookie hears a couple of suspicious clicks ahead and spots a couple crabs looking at him, and in any other occasion Rookie would approach and greet them with open arms, however, these crabs aren’t supposed to be here. They should be underwater, burrowing in lumps of sand until the temperature gets warm enough for them to be cozy around the island…

Unless, these crabs are here for him.

He should’ve guessed Herbert’s crab army would be a part of this whole scheme, the agent blinks once and crustaceans are gone, even so, he can feel their little ways watching him from somewhere hidden now. How long have they been following him?! The EPF’s teleportation system’s been broken ever since Gary disappeared (and no one managed to fix it without him) and he couldn’t really run to one of the resistance’s hideouts and risk their existence- So he decides to run to his igloo that is a bit close and lock all the doors as fast as possible.

After doing that, he hears some bangs coming from outside and immediately figures he’s cornered. Rookie shoots an SOS message to other agents but he doubts he’ll be able to escape his fate, especially when Dot, someone known for being able to sneak past the most sticky situations, couldn’t. While Rookie realizes that Herbert is going to take him away from his friends and leak his agent info like he did with the others he captured, he decided to make one final message.

And here’s another headcanon inside another scenario but just hear me out- Rookie is a comntent creator. Even before he joined the PSA he did silly vlog videos and livestreams where he chatted and game’d a bit. Of course, he couldn’t really upload more of his wholesome content while dealing with Herbert’s dictatorship in Operation Blackout, and since the Club Penguin News was taken over too, Rookie, along with many other penguin content creators, became replacement sources of information for all of Club Penguin that wished to know where to find food, shelter, if the resistance is doing any progress and all that, so basically-

The day Rookie was kidnapped, he did one last livestream.

He barricades the door of his recording room and immediately starts the stream. The viewers can see something’s different just by the way the whole thing is setup, Rookie looks nervous, and decides since this is probably the first thing Herbert will leak when he’s captured, he figures it will eb better if he does it himself. So instead of the usual welcomes and smiles, he starts the transmission with “I’m Rookie. Officer of Public Relations and leader of the EPF’s Communication sector, and I have a small announcement for you all…”

The message is actually pretty short, 6-7 minutes at most, and Rookie is overall very serious despite being apparently nervous. He talks about the Blackout, and how everyone that has resisted Herbert has been suffering, and how the EPF is sparing no effort to bring things back to normal, and apologizes since he’s going to be offline for a while. He mentions other channels that could serve as good sources of information while he’s gone and then asks for everyone to maintain hope despite it all, that Club Penguin has faced a lot of disasters together, and that this one won’t be any different.

By this point, the way Rookie was glancing sideways together with the bangs coming from somewhere off-screen, the chat was begging him to escape.

But he didn’t, using his final minutes to do a personal goodbye. He talks about his friends at the EPF, how all of them are incredibly resourceful and fierce, and especially good at their jobs. Rookie asks them to be strong, just as he’ll try to be now. He’s scared but hopeful, and just then, a powerful blow breaks the door down.

The camera is knocked off into the ground and sounds of struggles along with clicks can be heard, the commotion doesn’t take long either, and when EPF’s tactical team finally arrive on the scene, it’s too late.

Rookie’s igloo is empty of it’s owner, and a couple of hours later, Herbert shares the news with glee along with more confidential stuff, as a treat.

And like that, Operation Blackout continues.

So ye, this is the headcanon. There’s more that could be discussed about it like the other agents reaction (jetkie angst yummy) and how Rookie gets an earful by the Director when everything is over. But that’s the main meat of it. I should probably translate this into proper fanfiction format later (idk if there’s a lot of club penguin fanfic readers out there tho), but it would be nest anyways.

Thanks for reading this ^^

[bluemoonperegrine]

Based on vibes and timing, I suspect that the recent wave of not-mature content (like, say, a photo of a teddy bear plush toy) being labeled as mature is the result of AI fuckery.

Before I continue, know that:

Tumblr was acquired by Automattic, Inc. a few years ago.

Matt Mullenweg is the CEO of Automattic.

Mullenweg is the founding developer of the widely-used web content management system WordPress, which is free and open-source.

Automattic owns WordPress.com, a private company that hosts WordPress sites.

Mullenweg is in a legal war with WPEngine.com, a different for-profit company that hosts WordPress sites.

Starting in December, Automattic has been working on making Tumblr run on WordPress.

Possible supporting evidence of AI fuckery:

On April 2nd, Automattic laid off 16% of its staff.

One week later, Mullenweg announced WordPress.com's new AI site builder, Big Sky.

For the past few days I've been hearing about perfectly innocent tumblr posts being flagged as "mature." This is precisely the sort of thing gen AI/LLMs do because they're pretty much guessing machines.

IMO, and I hope I'm wrong, Tumblr will be enshittified like Twitter was by Musk, and the owners of Duolingo did when they replaced most of their human translators with AI. I personally quit Duolingo when I noticed an abrupt decline in lesson quality. It was after I'd stopped visiting that I learned about the AI fuckery.

It's a race to the bottom, folks.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Caught up in Fashion - Matty Healy

A/N: something that isnt smut???? applaud me. Also #unedited if there are any errors no there arent

wc: 3.5k

content warnings: bit suggestive, mpind typical cursing, drugs (weed), kissing, matty gets handsy?, he's done way worse

The British public transport system has been an ongoing source of disappointment since the day you learned how to spell the word. Busses that acted like they didn't have places to be, coming too late or just not coming at all, leaving you stranded on the highway in the middle of some city you didn't know the name of, Matty at your side, whining and complaining and being totally unhelpful in general.

This time, however, you had struck gold. Both your buses had arrived on time, making you actually catch the next one and not forcing you to wait around for another, or god forbid, try your luck hitchhiking. 

It was a bit loud, the sounds of families on their way to day trips or lunches filling the bus with noise, the occasional baby crying out for its parents. You were sitting at the window seat, your back to the glass as your legs draped across Matty’s, the soles of your shoes slightly blocking the way for other people, but seeing as the two of you were in the second to last row, it didn't actually bother anyone. 

It was nearing summertime, the blazing sun making clothes stick to your skin and makeup melt off, no brand of setting spray managing to set it. Matty, instead of being a normal fucking person and wearing short, was clad in his signature black skinny jeans, the only flow of air coming from the giant hole on his left knee. 

The two of you had finally found the time (and finances) to go shopping at a mall that had recently opened across the city. You were determined to get there, even if it did take you an hour and two bus connections, Matty insisted that he needed new clothes. 

“I need some tops, seeing as you steal all of mine.” you comment, earning yourself a piercing look from Matty, an insult forming behind his lips. 

“Fuck off, give me my joggers back and then we’ll talk” he gestures to the pants you were wearing which were, in fact, his. They sat perfectly on your hips, hanging low enough so even your longest tops looked cropped. 

“I dare you to try and take them, fucking watch what happens” you threaten him, clutching your pants like he was going to rip them off your legs right then and there out of pure spite. “I look better in them anyway” adding that little comment only made him huff in reply, deliberately turning his head away when you try to give him an apology kiss. 

“Fuck you do! I rock everything, especially when it's mine.” you roll your eyes at him, successfully planting a kiss onto his lips. The smile that spreads onto his face is impossible to hide, even if he denies it. 

The bus finally comes to a screeching halt, the breaks to sound it makes you cover your ears at the high pitched noise. Matty giggles, his eyes creasing up as he laughs at your misfortune.

“At least I haven't gone deaf from having my music at 100 you knobhead.” he holds his hands up in defeat, pushing your legs off of him to get up, exiting the bus. You latch onto him from behind, letting him lead you over the gap between the door and the floor, catching you in his arms when you pretend to trip, performatively falling in slow motion. His hands grip onto your waist, setting you down onto the hot pavement. 

“Smoke?” you nod, walking over to the bench under the bus stop’s roof, the plastic of the seat warm against the back of your thighs as you sit down, leaning against the Fanta advertisement behind you. 

Matty pulls out his packet of cigarettes, taking out two and handing one of them to you. A smile spreads onto your face when you see him lighter, your initials decorating the side. He catches your look, running his fingertips over the slightly faded rhinestones and lighting your cigarette first. 

You take out your ipod and headphones, gesturing for Matty to take one. Without asking, you put on ‘The Masterplan’ by oasis, quietly singing along to the lyrics as he nudges you in the arm. 

“Your music taste is not a shit as it used to be.” he comments, looking almost proud of you. You click your tongue, leaning your head against his shoulder and taking a drag of the cigarette between your fingers. “Seems like you’ve terrorized me so much I finally gave in.” The smoke leaves your mouth as you speak, cheekily smiling up at his deadpan expression, obviously hoping for a different answer. 

“Dramatic much?” you kiss his shoulder, playfully biting his arm making him jump at the feeling of your teeth digging into his skin.

“Ow??” you just laugh, collecting your hair and brushing it over your right shoulder, making your position a bit more comfortable. 

The inside of the mall is air conditioned, a groan of relief leaving Matty’s lips as the cool air kisses his skin. You take a look around, eyes landing on a store down the giant hallway. Hollister. Matty turns to you and nods, booking it down the corridor in its direction. You hurry after him, his hand dragging you faster than you could keep up. 

“It’s fucking massive.” he breaths, stopping right infront of the entrance. Racks filled with piles upon piles of clothes makes the little shopping addict in Matty twirl, completely forgetting the amount of money he had left the house with. 

The two of you part ways, going into different sections and rifling through clothes, groaning when your eyes fall on the price tag. You see Matty coming towards you in the corner of your eye, holding something in his hands.

“You like?” he asks, holding a black, floor length floral skirt to his lower half, spinning around in a small circle. It flows around him, the multicolored flowers standing out against the jet black fabric nicely. 

“It's cute, it makes you look a bit taller.” you admire him, obviously giddy from finding something he really liked that didn't have a two digit price tag. And it's true, it did make him look taller.

“Not that I need it.” he states, gesturing at his body, standing at a totally average 5’11 (6’ in boots). You decide to tease him a bit, loving watching his grin disappear as you speak. 

“Oh you definitely do, you're like an oompa loompa who's managed to escape the chocolate factory.” his jaw drops in disbelief, almost looking genuinely offended.

“Fucking oompa loompa, maybe fix your contour before you come at me.” he shoots back, making a point to wipe at you face, some of the product coming off. 

Your hands go to cover your face and you rush to a mirror, absolutely mortified. Upon taking a look at your reflection, you realize he was taking the piss out of you, and that your makeup looked perfectly fine, apart from your eyeliner being a tad smudged. It looked good, nonetheless 

“I fucking hate you.” you spit at him, attempting to shove past him, his hands gripping your shoulders stopping you. 

“But you believed me, didnt you?” 

“Fuck off and die, I hope your scrote falls off.” you can't help but giggle at your own words, biting your lip between your teeth. 

“Awwee, but who would keep you happy and satisfied then? Can't make you cum without my precious little friend.” he winks, wrangling his eyebrows at you. You cringe, your nose scrunching up in disgust.  

“Don't ever refer to your dick as ‘precious little friend’ again, or I will leave you for George.” George would at least have the decency to not name his dick. 

“He’d be a shite shag.” Matty says, matter of factly, like it helped his case. Deciding to try and rile him up in retaliation, you twirl your hair around your fingers, speaking in a dreamy voice.  

“But look at the size of him, you know he’s packing at least twelve-” Matty cuts you off with a harsh kiss, both his hands cupping your cheeks. You let out a surprised noise, it getting swallowed up as he slips his tongue into your mouth, running it across your bottom lip. 

“I do not want to speculate on the size of my best mate's cock, thanks.” you nod, slightly breathless from the kiss, too dazed to debate him further. You go back to the rack of clothes behind you and Matty walks over to a display of skimpy going-out tops. 

“D'you like this on me?” you press a black and pink tube top to your chest, getting Matty’s attention. He takes his eyes over you, smirking as he notices the bottom of the shirt is completely sheer, only a black strip of fabric keeping you from flashing everyone. 

“It's hot. You should try it on, give me a preview.” his fingers touch the bottom of the top, running his fingers over the pink mesh. It looks tight, too tight for a bra seeing as it could cling to your body if you decided to wear it. 

“You’re such a boy.” you snigger, adding the top to your pile of yes’s. 

“Can you blame me?” his arm wraps around your waist, fingers hovering over the curve of your arse, giving it a quick squeeze. You smack his hands away, cursing at him for basically groping you in a Hollister. 

He smirks against your ear, attemüting to whisper into it before you shove him off, changing the subject by asking what he had decided to buy. 

Matty holds up the skirt from earlier, bragging about how it was “Only nine quid, can you believe that??”

The second item he had picked out was a thin, long sleeved top in none other than leopard print. You giggle at him as he proudly shows it off to you, boasting about how sexy and delicious he would look in it, deliberately having taken a size or two too small. 

You pay at the till, and Matty legs it to the changing stall, peeling off this shirt and putting on his new top, letting it ride up to show the low rise of his jeans. He actually looks quite good, even if he gives off ‘old hollywood hooker’ vibes with the top. 

His hand intertwined with yours as you walk into a children's store for shits and giggles, looking through the vast catalog of toys and fake makeup.

Your eyes land on a matching pair of kids friendship bracelets, one pink, one blue. Matty asks you what you have, and you show it to him, begging him to wear them with you

“Its cute!” you argue, trusting the cheap pieces of plastic into his hands.

“Its tacky, does not fit my vibe at all.'' He tries to deny you, but the look on your face is too endearing to say no.

“You are the embodiment of the word, look at what you're wearing!” you point at his top, bursting out into a fit of laughter when he pops out a hip, standing with one hand resting on his waist.  

“It's fashion.” 

“That's one word for it.” you snigger as he reluctantly pays the 1.99 the bracelets cost. He slips his on first, the pink a stark contrast to the otherwise sandy and dark colors of his outfit. The blue bracelet fits perfectly around your own wrist, half of a heart connecting with the half on Matty’s via a cheap magnet.

“Look at us, defying gender roles.” Matty smirks at you, admiring both of your pieces of jewelry.

“Fighting the patriarchy! You did pay for me though, so not completely feminist." His laughter makes a fuzzy feeling spread through the body, an intense feeling of adoration making your heart pound in your chest. Fucking idiot.   

The two of you wander around, stopping to window shop in a store you could dream of actually going in, knowing you’d be thrown out in under a minute. His eyes gleam as he sees a proper jewelry store, acting like a child on christmas morning as he flips through the piles of discount earrings at the back of the shop. 

“You don't even have pierced ears mate, how’re you gonna wear them?” you snap him out of his little adventure, reminding him of his inability to actually wear the hoops he so desperately wanted to buy. 

“I'll go get them pierced then, have Rome do it for me.” Rome was now working on opening an actual shop, finally graduating from piercing people on the beat up sofa in his living room.  

“There's a piercing parlor literally there, and it's like five quid.” you gesture to the neon sign next to the till, pointing to a back room labeled ‘Sasha’s piercings’, which was a really shit name if she wanted to attract actual customers. 

“Will you hold my hand?” he juts out his lip, pouting at you in a childish manner. Sasha, the only employee (surprise surprise), greets you with a warm smile, asking what you wanted to get done. Matty tells her he wants to get his ears pierced and coughs up the five quid, sitting down onto a red leather chair. It was when she pulled out a piercing gun that he started to look a bit nervous. 

“Fuck no, that is not touching my ear.” he squirms away from the lady, a confused look on her face. Matty was a grown man, after all, even if he did act like a behaviorally stunted 8-year old. 

“You're so pathetic it's actually quite sad.” you say, urging him to just get it over with, and that he was being a wanker making the employee wait. 

  “Usually I'd appreciate you calling me that, but genuine degradation isn't really my kink.” 

The piercer looks mortified, asking you if you needed a bit of time before the piercing, and you nod, watching her step to the side.  

“Its fucking gun.” he mutters under his breath, eyeing the device that set onto a steriel tray on the table next to where he was sitting

“A piercing gun.” 

“It has the word gun in it.'' Obviously normal, adult reasoning isn't cutting it, so you went with the next best thing.

“Do it and I'll give you a blowjob.” Matty’s eyes light up at your proposition, a filthy smirk spreading onto his face.

“Fucking sold, go on then.” you're surprised it actually worked, scoffing in disbelief. 

“Men are so simple.” 

“Says the one who let me finger her in the bathroom of a club.” he shoots back, watching the blush creep onto your face as that night flashes behind your eyes. The smell of that bathroom is ingrained into your mind, no amount of wishing letting it leave your memory. 

“Don’t fucking speak about that,” you huff, fucked off that he brought it up. It was genuinely embarrassing, the way you humped him on the dance floor and then dragged him off into a stall.  “We were both so off our tits, I died for about 72 hours after.” you shudder at the monster hangover that left you immobile for the days following, having to get Matty to bring you all three meals for a concerning period of time. 

“Sureee, just deny deny deny you loved it.” you finally call the poor girl over, hoping she didn't accidentally overhear your crude conversation. Matty whimpers slightly as she brings the gun to his ear, pressing down. Squeezing your hand so hard you were sure your blood flow was cut off, he winced before relaxing, realizing that he was, in fact, losing his mind over absolutely nothing.

The second ear takes a fraction of the amount of time the first ear did, Matty grinning like a maniac at the lack of pain apart from a small sting in his earlobe. You shake your head apologetically at the lady, knowing she was probably rethinking her place of employment. 

“And you call me dramatic.” you snigger as she puts in two silver hoops, matty blatantly ignoring her recommendation to start with studs, saying they looked boring. He admires his new accessory in a small hand held mirror, flicking the earring back and forth before answering you. “It did actually hurt! Of course, I took it like the legend I am.” an exasperated sigh leaves your lips.

“Tosser, more like.” he smacks the side of your arm, laughing right along with you. 

You had spent almost the entire day there, running around stores, trying on piles of clothes just for the fun of it, feeling like teenagers in an American film. But even you had your limits, and your stomach started to growl as the sky began welcoming traces of night, the sun slowly setting over the horizon. 

Matty had spotted a chippy right across the road from the mall, draggin you there to get you something to eat. Both your wallets are almost empty, but you manage to find an old, crumple up fiver behind your expired school I.D. It was just enough to get one large portion of chips, the guy behind the counter generously adding a little extra when he noticed you’d be sharing it. 

Your hand clasps his as you trudge up a small hill off the side of the highway, hoping there would be a nice spot to sit down somewhere, away from all the noise. Matty’s inner compass somehow always knew where to go, his intuition sensing it or something. It was weird, but you’d learned to just follow him, knowing it your be worth it in the end 

And fuck, was it worth it this time. The hill slowly ended, the top of it nearing as you saw a pile of giant rocks, covered in graffiti. The sun was beautiful, hues of orange and purple painting the sky, clouds looking unreal in the light. He plopped down onto one of the rocks, facing west as you sat next to him, the box of chips on the ground between you. 

Matty feels around in his pockets and you raise your eyebrows at him, wondering what he was doing. He grins as he pulls out a spliff from his jean pocket, presenting it proudly like it wasn't the most beat up joint you've ever seen in your life. Still, you were thankful, plucking it from between his fingers and lighting it for him.

“I think I might actually love you, mate.” you place the lit spliff between his lips, thanking his past self for remembering to bring weed, knowing you'll be craving it at the end of the day.

“Of course you do, and for the love of god, stop calling me mate. You’ve quite literally fucked me multiple times, maybe its time to drop it?” he huffs, inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs. His expression changes when he hands it back to you, visibly more relaxed. 

“What else would I call you?” Matty scoffs at your question, listing weird, couple pet names off the top of his head.

“Baby, darling, the love of my life. Fucking anything that doesn’t make me feel like im talking to Ross.” 

you take a drag, listening to his little rant, nodding along as he rambles. You cough a bit when the smoke hits your lungs the wrong way, your eyes watering. 

“Fine, love it is.” you choose at random, only to make Matty stop ruining your high. Groaning, he pushes you, almost making you lose your balance on the rock you were sitting on. 

“Love of my life.” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Sure Matty, whatever shuts you up.”

“I know plenty of ways you can shut me up.” he coos, grinning wildly as his fingers trail up your bare arm. 

“God, I forgot you have the sex drive of a fucking bonobo.” you roll your eyes, putting on a display of faux annoyance. Matty giggles at your response, smacking his knee as his laughter grows louder.  

“I meant kiss me, but if you wanna-” oh god, he knew you would interpret it as something inherently sexual, especially if it came out of his mouth. You had fallen right into his little trap, his infectious laughter making it hard to even oretend to be fucked off at him. 

“Fuck off, giz a kiss.” you mutter, crashing your lips against his. His tongue licks into your mouth, biting down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Matty moans into the kiss, his hand gripping the base of your neck as you make out in the orange glow of the sunset, only pulling away to take drags of the spliff, even attempting to shotgun one. 

You fail miserably, too high to think straight, let alone get your mouths that close together without one of you kissing the other out of pure instinct. At some point, you move to the ground, laying flat on your back as the warm summer air kisses your skin. 

Matty’s shoulder is against yours, your fingers interlocked between your bodies. Neither of you speaks, silently admiring the stars that littered the night sky, glimmering against the darkness of it. Crickets chirp in the distance as the cars become less and less noticeable, a veil of calm draping over the two of you.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The (open) web is good, actually

I'll be at the Studio City branch of the LA Public Library tonight (Monday, November 13) at 1830hPT to launch my new novel, The Lost Cause. There'll be a reading, a talk, a surprise guest (!!) and a signing, with books on sale. Tell your friends! Come on down!

The great irony of the platformization of the internet is that platforms are intermediaries, and the original promise of the internet that got so many of us excited about it was disintermediation – getting rid of the middlemen that act as gatekeepers between community members, creators and audiences, buyers and sellers, etc.

The platformized internet is ripe for rent seeking: where the platform captures an ever-larger share of the value generated by its users, making the service worst for both, while lock-in stops people from looking elsewhere. Every sector of the modern economy is less competitive, thanks to monopolistic tactics like mergers and acquisitions and predatory pricing. But with tech, the options for making things worse are infinitely divisible, thanks to the flexibility of digital systems, which means that product managers can keep subdividing the Jenga blocks they pulling out of the services we rely on. Combine platforms with monopolies with digital flexibility and you get enshittification:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

An enshittified, platformized internet is bad for lots of reasons – it concentrates decisions about who may speak and what may be said into just a few hands; it creates a rich-get-richer dynamic that creates a new oligarchy, with all the corruption and instability that comes with elite capture; it makes life materially worse for workers, users, and communities.

But there are many other ways in which the enshitternet is worse than the old good internet. Today, I want to talk about how the enshitternet affects openness and all that entails. An open internet is one whose workings are transparent (think of "open source"), but it's also an internet founded on access – the ability to know what has gone before, to recall what has been said, and to revisit the context in which it was said.

At last week's Museum Computer Network conference, Aaron Straup Cope gave a talk on museums and technology called "Wishful Thinking – A critical discussion of 'extended reality' technologies in the cultural heritage sector" that beautifully addressed these questions of recall and revisiting:

https://www.aaronland.info/weblog/2023/11/11/therapy/#wishful

Cope is a museums technologist who's worked on lots of critical digital projects over the years, and in this talk, he addresses himself to the difference between the excitement of the galleries, libraries, archives and museums (GLAM) sector over the possibilities of the web, and why he doesn't feel the same excitement over the metaverse, and its various guises – XR, VR, MR and AR.

The biggest reason to be excited about the web was – and is – the openness of disintermediation. The internet was inspired by the end-to-end principle, the idea that the network's first duty was to transmit data from willing senders to willing receivers, as efficiently and reliably as possible. That principle made it possible for whole swathes of people to connect with one another. As Cope writes, openness "was not, and has never been, a guarantee of a receptive audience or even any audience at all." But because it was "easy and cheap enough to put something on the web," you could "leave it there long enough for others to find it."

That dynamic nurtured an environment where people could have "time to warm up to ideas." This is in sharp contrast to the social media world, where "[anything] not immediately successful or viral … was a waste of time and effort… not worth doing." The social media bias towards a river of content that can't be easily reversed is one in which the only ideas that get to spread are those the algorithm boosts.

This is an important way to understand the role of algorithms in the context of the spread of ideas – that without recall or revisiting, we just don't see stuff, including stuff that might challenge our thinking and change our minds. This is a much more materialistic and grounded way to talk about algorithms and ideas than the idea that Big Data and AI make algorithms so persuasive that they can control our minds:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

As bad as this is in the social media context, it's even worse in the context of apps, which can't be linked into, bookmarked, or archived. All of this made apps an ominous sign right from the beginning:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

Apps interact with law in precisely the way that web-pages don't. "An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to defend yourself against corporate predation":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/27/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse/

Apps are "closed" in every sense. You can't see what's on an app without installing the app and "agreeing" to its terms of service. You can't reverse-engineer an app (to add a privacy blocker, or to change how it presents information) without risking criminal and civil liability. You can't bookmark anything the app won't let you bookmark, and you can't preserve anything the app won't let you preserve.

Despite being built on the same underlying open frameworks – HTTP, HTML, etc – as the web, apps have the opposite technological viewpoint to the web. Apps' technopolitics are at war with the web's technopolitics. The web is built around recall – the ability to see things, go back to things, save things. The web has the technopolitics of a museum:

https://www.aaronland.info/weblog/2014/09/11/brand/#dconstruct

By comparison, apps have the politics of a product, and most often, that product is a rent-seeking, lock-in-hunting product that wants to take you hostage by holding something you love hostage – your data, perhaps, or your friends:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

When Anil Dash described "The Web We Lost" in 2012, he was describing a web with the technopolitics of a museum:

where tagging was combined with permissive licenses to make it easy for people to find and reuse each others' stuff;

where it was easy to find out who linked to you in realtime even though most of us were posting to our own sites, which they controlled;

where a link from one site to another meant one person found another person's contribution worthy;

where privacy-invasive bids to capture the web were greeted with outright hostility;

where every service that helped you post things that mattered to you was expected to make it easy for you take that data back if you changed services;

where inlining or referencing material from someone else's site meant following a technical standard, not inking a business-development deal;

https://www.anildash.com/2012/12/13/the_web_we_lost/

Ten years later, Dash's "broken tech/content culture cycle" described the web we live on now:

https://www.anildash.com/2022/02/09/the-stupid-tech-content-culture-cycle/

found your platform by promising to facilitate your users' growth;

order your technologists and designers to prioritize growth above all other factors and fire anyone who doesn't deliver;

grow without regard to the norms of your platform's users;

plaster over the growth-driven influx of abusive and vile material by assigning it to your "most marginalized, least resourced team";

deliver a half-assed moderation scheme that drives good users off the service and leaves no one behind but griefers, edgelords and trolls;

steadfastly refuse to contemplate why the marginalized users who made your platform attractive before being chased away have all left;

flail about in a panic over illegal content, do deals with large media brands, seize control over your most popular users' output;

"surface great content" by algorithmically promoting things that look like whatever's successful, guaranteeing that nothing new will take hold;

overpay your top performers for exclusivity deals, utterly neglect any pipeline for nurturing new performers;

abuse your creators the same ways that big media companies have for decades, but insist that it's different because you're a tech company;

ignore workers who warn that your product is a danger to society, dismiss them as "millennials" (defined as "anyone born after 1970 or who has a student loan")

when your platform is (inevitably) implicated in a murder, have a "town hall" overseen by a crisis communications firm;

pay the creator who inspired the murder to go exclusive on your platform;

dismiss the murder and fascist rhetoric as "growing pains";

when truly ghastly stuff happens on your platform, give your Trust and Safety team a 5% budget increase;

chase growth based on "emotionally engaging content" without specifying whether the emotions should be positive;

respond to ex-employees' call-outs with transient feelings of guilt followed by dismissals of "cancel culture":

fund your platforms' most toxic users and call it "free speech";

whenever anyone disagrees with any of your decisions, dismiss them as being "anti-free speech";

start increasing how much your platform takes out of your creators' paychecks;

force out internal dissenters, dismiss external critics as being in conspiracy with your corporate rivals;

once regulation becomes inevitable, form a cartel with the other large firms in your sector and insist that the problem is a "bad algorithm";

"claim full victim status," and quit your job, complaining about the toll that running a big platform took on your mental wellbeing.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/18/broken-records/#dashes

The web wasn't inevitable – indeed, it was wildly improbable. Tim Berners Lee's decision to make a new platform that was patent-free, open and transparent was a complete opposite approach to the strategy of the media companies of the day. They were building walled gardens and silos – the dialup equivalent to apps – organized as "branded communities." The way I experienced it, the web succeeded because it was so antithetical to the dominant vision for the future of the internet that the big companies couldn't even be bothered to try to kill it until it was too late.

Companies have been trying to correct that mistake ever since. After three or four attempts to replace the web with various garbage systems all called "MSN," Microsoft moved on to trying to lock the internet inside a proprietary browser. Years later, Facebook had far more success in an attempt to kill HTML with React. And of course, apps have gobbled up so much of the old, good internet.

Which brings us to Cope's views on museums and the metaverse. There's nothing intrinsically proprietary about virtual worlds and all their permutations. VRML is a quarter of a century old – just five years younger than Snow Crash:

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

But the current enthusiasm for virtual worlds isn't merely a function of the interesting, cool and fun experiences you can have in them. Rather, it's a bid to kill off whatever is left of the old, good web and put everything inside a walled garden. Facebook's metaverse "is more of the same but with a technical footprint so expensive and so demanding that it all but ensures it will only be within the means of a very few companies to operate."

Facebook's VR headsets have forward-facing cameras, turning every users into a walking surveillance camera. Facebook put those cameras there for "pass through" – so they can paint the screens inside the headset with the scene around you – but "who here believes that Facebook doesn't have other motives for enabling an always-on camera capturing the world around you?"

Apple's VisionPro VR headset is "a near-perfect surveillance device," and "the only thing to save this device is the trust that Apple has marketed its brand on over the last few years." Cope notes that "a brand promise is about as fleeting a guarantee as you can get." I'll go further: Apple is already a surveillance company:

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

The technopolitics of the metaverse are the opposite of the technopolitics of the museum – even moreso than apps. Museums that shift their scarce technology budgets to virtual worlds stand a good chance of making something no one wants to use, and that's the best case scenario. The worst case is that museums make a successful project inside a walled garden, one where recall is subject to corporate whim, and help lure their patrons away from the recall-friendly internet to the captured, intermediated metaverse.

It's true that the early web benefited from a lot of hype, just as the metaverse is enjoying today. But the similarity ends there: the metaverse is designed for enclosure, the web for openness. Recall is a historical force for "the right to assembly… access to basic literacy… a public library." The web was "an unexpected gift with the ability to change the order of things; a gift that merits being protected, preserved and promoted both internally and externally." Museums were right to jump on the web bandwagon, because of its technopolitics. The metaverse, with its very different technopolitics, is hostile to the very idea of museums.

In joining forces with metaverse companies, museums strike a Faustian bargain, "because we believe that these places are where our audiences have gone."

The GLAM sector is devoted to access, to recall, and to revisiting. Unlike the self-style free speech warriors whom Dash calls out for self-serving neglect of their communities, the GLAM sector is about preservation and access, the true heart of free expression. When a handful of giant companies organize all our discourse, the ability to be heard is contingent on pleasing the ever-shifting tastes of the algorithm. This is the problem with the idea that "freedom of speech isn't freedom of reach" – if a platform won't let people who want to hear from you see what you have to say, they are indeed compromising freedom of speech:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

Likewise, "censorship" is not limited to "things that governments do." As Ada Palmer so wonderfully describes it in her brilliant "Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet" speech, censorship is like arsenic, with trace elements of it all around us:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMMJb3AxA0s

A community's decision to ban certain offensive conduct or words on pain of expulsion or sanction is censorship – but not to the same degree that, say, a government ban on expressing certain points of view is. However, there are many kinds of private censorship that rise to the same level as state censorship in their impact on public discourse (think of Moms For Liberty and their book-bannings).

It's not a coincidence that Palmer – a historian – would have views on censorship and free speech that intersect with Cope, a museum worker. One of the most brilliant moments in Palmer's speech is where she describes how censorship under the Inquistion was not state censorship – the Inquisition was a multinational, nongovernmental body that was often in conflict with state power.

Not all intermediaries are bad for speech or access. The "disintermediation" that excited early web boosters was about escaping from otherwise inescapable middlemen – the people who figured out how to control and charge for the things we did with one another.

When I was a kid, I loved the writing of Crad Kilodney, a short story writer who sold his own self-published books on Toronto street-corners while wearing a sign that said "VERY FAMOUS CANADIAN AUTHOR, BUY MY BOOKS" (he also had a sign that read, simply, "MARGARET ATWOOD"). Kilodney was a force of nature, who wrote, edited, typeset, printed, bound, and sold his own books:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/books/article-late-street-poet-and-publishing-scourge-crad-kilodney-left-behind-a/

But there are plenty of writers out there that I want to hear from who lack the skill or the will to do all of that. Editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers – all the intermediaries who sit between a writer and their readers – are not bad. They're good, actually. The problem isn't intermediation – it's capture.

For generations, hucksters have conned would-be writers by telling them that publishing won't buy their books because "the gatekeepers" lack the discernment to publish "quality" work. Friends of mine in publishing laughed at the idea that they would deliberately sideline a book they could figure out how to sell – that's just not how it worked.

But today, monopolized film studios are literally annihilating beloved, high-priced, commercially viable works because they are worth slightly more as tax writeoffs than they are as movies:

https://deadline.com/2023/11/coyote-vs-acme-shelved-warner-bros-discovery-writeoff-david-zaslav-1235598676/

There's four giant studios and five giant publishers. Maybe "five" is the magic number and publishing isn't concentrated enough to drop whole novels down the memory hole for a tax deduction, but even so, publishing is trying like hell to shrink to four:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/07/random-penguins/#if-you-wanted-to-get-there-i-wouldnt-start-from-here

Even as the entertainment sector is working to both literally and figuratively destroy our libraries, the cultural heritage sector is grappling with preserving these libraries, with shrinking budgets and increased legal threats:

https://blog.archive.org/2023/03/25/the-fight-continues/

I keep meeting artists of all description who have been conditioned to be suspicious of anything with the word "open" in its name. One colleague has repeatedly told me that fighting for the "open internet" is a self-defeating rhetorical move that will scare off artists who hear "open" and think "Big Tech ripoff."

But "openness" is a necessary precondition for preservation and access, which are the necessary preconditions for recall and revisiting. Here on the last, melting fragment of the open internet, as tech- and entertainment-barons are seizing control over our attention and charging rent on our ability to talk and think together, openness is our best hope of a new, good internet. T

he cultural heritage sector wants to save our creative works. The entertainment and tech industry want to delete them and take a tax writeoff.

As a working artist, I know which side I'm on.

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:

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[mariacallous]

Dozens of Consumer Finance Protection Bureau employees were terminated on Tuesday evening, sources tell WIRED.

The cuts largely targeted contractors and so-called probationary employees, workers who have served less than two years at the agency. Sources tell WIRED that the CFPB’s enforcement division was hit hard, but it’s unclear how many employees were let go.

Workers were informed that they had been fired with a frenetic email delivered around 9pm ET on Tuesday night. An evidently failed mail merge meant that some affected employees were addressed as [EmployeeFirstName][EmployeeLastName], [Job Title], [Division].

“This is to provide notification that I am removing you from your position of [Job Title] and federal service consistent with the above references,” the email from acting chief human capital officer Adam Martinez says. “Unfortunately, the Agency finds that that [sic] you are not fit for continued employment because your ability, knowledge and skills do not fit the Agency’s current needs.”

The firings follow a tumultuous few days at CFPB. On Friday, staff for Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency shut down a portion of the agency’s homepage after a day of struggling to obtain access to the CMS and other systems. WIRED reported last week that three DOGE staffers, including Gavin Kliger and Nikhil Rajpal were given access to CFPB’s HR, procurement, and financial infrastructure. The DOGE workers were later granted access to all of the agency’s systems on Friday, Bloomberg reported this week, including bank examination and enforcement records.

Later on Friday evening, Russell Vought—Trump’s newly confirmed director of the Office of Management and Budget—took over as the acting administrator for CFPB late Friday evening, as first reported by The Wall Street Journal. Soon after, DOGE staff began sending out email requests asking CFPB managers to give Kliger additional access to agency systems, including physical access control system, payroll processing systems, and the ability to edit the CFPB’s website, sources tell WIRED.

Just before 10:30pm ET on Friday, sources say someone who appeared to have administrative privileges, accessed the agency server using Secure Shell (SSH), a protocol that allows remote control of a computer over a network. Bypassing the content management system, they [unpublished] the homepage file, causing a portion of the CFPB homepage to display a “404: Page not found”, notice typical of a website that has been deleted or is otherwise missing. The remainder of the site was functional, including submission forms for industry whistleblowers and consumer complaints.

Around 11pm on Friday, the CFPB’s X account disappeared and shortly after, according to a CFPB staffer, DOGE left the building.

CFPB sources who spoke to WIRED described being blindsided by the DOGE staffers. "They said they would follow protocol but repeatedly did not," one says, noting that the level of access these staffers have could allow them to lock others out of the building, take down the website, and “obstruct the bureau’s ability to carry out its mandate.”

One source at CFPB on Friday says they saw two young DOGE staffers wandering through the halls of the building trying to open doors.

“DOGE pulled a Darth Vader in cloud city where they came in promising to respect our rules and ask for read access and then tonight [Friday] at 6 they took a heel turn and demanded website access,” another CFPB source told WIRED at the time.

In a pair of emails sent Saturday and Monday, Vought effectively ordered all work at the agency to stop, freezing various enforcement efforts and work on regulations that would affect payment programs run by Big Tech companies.

The CFPB has long been a target of both Elon Musk and conservatives more broadly; the Project 2025 chapter on financial regulatory agencies describes it as “a highly politicized, damaging, and utterly unaccountable federal agency” and calls to have it abolished. Musk wrote “RIP CFPB” with a gravestone emoji in an X post Friday afternoon. Last November, he posted “Delete CFPB.” There are around 1,700 employees in total at the agency.

The CFPB was established by the 2010 Dodd-Frank Act, a sweeping piece of legislation that imposed significant regulatory reform in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis. Its remit is to protect consumers from unfair or deceptive financial practices, and the agency claims to be responsible for $19.7 billion in consumer relief since its inception, as well as $5 billion in civil penalties.

Some of those wins have come against payment processors including Block, which was ordered to pay a total of $175 million in penalties last month for allegedly failing to sufficiently protect users of its Cash App from fraud. CFPB also has an active lawsuit against JPMorgan Chase, Bank of America, and Wells Fargo for similar alleged failures on their shared payment app Zelle. Elon Musk will soon be in the peer-to-peer payments business as well, after X entered a partnership with Visa in late January.