#Private surveillance cameras

[privateinvestigatorsuniverse]

Why do Private investigation companies rely on surveillance?

Technology has emerged as a powerful tool when considering a private investigation. It has revolutionised the process and enhanced efficiency. So, in this blog, we will highlight the dynamic realm of technology and its cutting-edge use in private investigation. So follow on and find out how private investigation companies are taking advantage of the same.

Enhanced Advancements in Surveillance Technology

Surveillance is the central pillar of private investigations companies. It has undergone a digital transformation over the years. Enhanced drones, camera systems and GPS tracking devices help private investigators carry out effective and discreet monitoring. Sophisticated recording devices and high-resolution cameras provide more apparent proof, while drones provide a bird's-eye view for inclusive surveillance reports.

Helping in Cyber investigation and digital forensic reports

Private investigation companies are strongly relying on digital tools. And its use has been amplified in cyber investigation and digital forensics. Professionals in this field can offer worthy information from social media platforms, electronic devices and other online sources. These tools are highly instrumental in cases involving digital footprints, scams, cybercrimes or frauds.

Use of big data to analyse the different pattern

Private investigating companies use the power of big data analytics to identify correlations and patterns in massive datasets. This analytical skill helps in finding concealed connections. It also assists in deciphering intricate information and predicting potential results. The ability to shift through large data volumes improves the effectiveness of investigations.

Considering Ethical values in the digital arena

No doubt, technological enhancement provides unmatched capabilities. But, private investigating companies need to consider the ethical part as well. They need to balance individual privacy and truth together on the same plate. And that is no doubt a fragile task. Adhering to Clear guidelines and legal frameworks is significant to ensure ethical practices are followed using data analytics, surveillance cameras and digital forensics.

Final say

Thus, these are some of the best practices private investigation companies follow when considering surveillance in personal investigation services.

[reilemon]

🍷Ambrosia🍷

♡︎ synopsis: You give Sylus a private pole dance show.

♡︎ pairing: Sylus x fem!reader

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

♡︎ cw: pre-relationship, pole dancing, lap dance, cowgirl, missionary, creampie

♡︎ word count: 4.2k

♡︎ a/n: If you don't like how I wrote Sylus pls don't say anything. 😭

♡︎ a little gift for my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎

divider by @cafekitsune

"Why are you walking by yourself in the city at 1 am?" Sylus asks you over the phone.

You look around, searching for Mephisto. You sigh when you fail. "I just wanted to sober up on my way home."

"You can sober up in my car." And as if on cue, a familiar black car pulls up next to you.

The other line cuts off and Sylus exits, walking around and opening the passenger's door. "Get in, sweetie."

You cross your arms. "I don't wanna get car sick."

"You won't. I'll drive slowly."

"But I'm like five minutes away from my apartment." You look around at the empty street. No people and no surveillance cameras. You did pick out a weird route, but it was in a peaceful neighborhood. "Why don't you walk with me?"

Sylus' shoulders slump at your request. Not because it's unreasonable, but because he hoped the car ride would be more than five minutes long.

After parking the car, he returns to you carrying a water bottle and a paper bag with a logo of a donut shop. He hands them over, and you accept, feeling guilty.

"Did you get these for me?"

He shrugs. "I always drive by that place, so I got curious and bought some."

"Oh... Oh?" Your eyes land on a stain on his shirt. Blood? No - "Is that jam?"

He glances down "Right, I tried one and it spilled on my shirt. I can just get a new one."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you can. I have something that can remove the stain."

When you turn to start walking, he grabs your hand and loops your arm around his. "Slow down, I don't want you to trip."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Just when you locked the doors of your apartment, it hit you that Sylus, the infamous leader of Onichynus, your friend (?), is in your apartment. At 1 am, for the first time. The apartment isn't messy, but you still would've prepared it more. For instance, you would've put away the pole standing in the middle of your living room.

Of course, that's the first thing Sylus notices. "You like to pole dance, kitten?"

The question sobers you up immediately. Your face and ears burn in embarrassment, and you can feel sweat forming on your back. "Um, sometimes. When I have time." You scurry away to the kitchen to put away the food, Sylus chuckling behind you. You wouldn't be so flustered if you knew those cool, energetic moves. No, instead, all you know is the sensual, seductive ones. They're like a breath of fresh air, given the nature of your job.

You go back to Sylus who made himself comfortable on your sofa, taking in the new environment. "I have a men's t-shirt that could fit you, and I'll return your shirt the next time I see you."

With a slight glare he responds "I'm not wearing another man's clothes."

You sigh "It's mine. I like to wear baggy clothes around the house." Although, you can't help but smile a little at that display of jealousy. Was it, though? Or are you just being delusional?

You wish it was.

His face returns to the neutral relaxed state, with his usual amused smirk. The face, you noticed, he only has when he's around you. It wasn't like that in the beginning (let's not talk about the beginning), but the more time you spent with him, the more you got to see his gentle side.

Lost in your daydream, you didn't notice that he was almost done unbuttoning the stained shirt, revealing he doesn't have anything underneath.

When he completely takes it off, your eyes are glued to his torso. This is your first time seeing him completely shirtless, leaving you unable to peel off your gaze from his chiseled muscles, broad shoulders-

"It's rude to stare, sweetie."

You blink, snapping out of the shameless ogling, taking the shirt that was lingering in his hand for a moment as he was trying to hand it to you.

"I wasn't staring." You, again, make a run for it, this time to your bedroom to fish out a clean oversized t-shirt for him. When you return to the living room, your eyes are fixated on his face, fighting the urge to look down and stare at his physique.

He thanks you and puts it on. It fits almost perfectly, and although he's covered, the sight is making your heart flutter.

He takes a whiff of the fabric. "Smells nice."

After a brief chat about laundry (of course Sylus doesn't do it, but knows how to, apparently), you turn towards the bathroom, claiming "Trust me, I'll make that stain disappear."

"I bet you can't."

The accusation makes you stop in your tracks. "I bet I can! And if I win, you'll get me something pretty."

Sylus chuckles, eyeing you from head to toe. "If you lose, you'll dance for me."

Fell right into his trap.

With a shaky voice you refuse, "I don't think so. Pick something else."

Sylus raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised at your declining of the bet for the first time. "Oh?" He notices how you're shifting where you stand, averting your gaze. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

You shake your head "You didn't, it's just that - " You trail off, an idea popping up in your head. By now, Sylus can read your face with ease, so he smirks when your eyes light up and he listens intently. "How about, if you actually want me to put on a little show for you, you buy me a bottle of my favorite perfume?"

You've been running low, and it's currently out of stock literally everywhere you looked. If he actually wants to see you dance, he'll have to put in a little bit of work. Not only is the perfume out of stock, he doesn’t even know which one is your favorite. At least you never told him. And even if he, by some miracle, finds it, you'll just do a few spins and take your perfume. It's not like he asked you to give him a lap dance. You probably wouldn't be opposed to it, though.

He raises his eyebrows before nodding. "Deal."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

As you shut the door of the bathroom, Sylus slowly sneaks his way into your bedroom. Actually, it’s not sneaking in if you left the door open, right?

However, he's not a creep who uses this opportunity to go through your underwear drawer. No, he goes straight to your vanity and takes a sniff of every fancy looking perfume, remembering almost every single scent and occasion you wore them on.

The water stopped running in the bathroom. He needs to wrap this up. There's one more bottle, the printed logo and letters worn out, almost empty. He chuckles, as he wonders if this is the one since you're running low and want him to replace it. You could've just asked him to and he'd get you ten more.

His eyes roll back as the ambrosial scent hits his nose. That's it, that's the one. Oh, how he adores it. It smells intoxicating when it's on you. And you're wearing it tonight, him catching a hint of it when you met up and he had to fight every fiber in his body not to bury his face in your neck, taking in your perfume and the feel of your soft skin.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

At the doorway of Sylus' bedroom, you stare at the pole installed in the middle of the room. When he said to take the now stain-free shirt to his bedroom, you thought it was odd since, well - why would you go into his bedroom? The last time you were here, was to search for that brooch and he kicked you out every time. Except for the last time, when you succeeded in finding it, the moments on his bed that you fantasize more often than you'd like to admit, where you wish it led to something more.

"You know you're allowed to enter?" Sylus' teasing voice appears behind you.

You peer at him over your shoulder "You already have the pole installed? Without even getting the perfume first?" After all, it's only been a few days since you last saw him, and when you gave him the challenge.

"Take a better look, sweetie." He nods in the direction of the desk.

You take a step inside to get a closer look, with Sylus trailing behind you to stand next to you. Of course, there it is - the bottle of your favorite perfume waiting for you. Sylus smirks in self-satisfaction as your face is too easy to read now, you can't lie your way out of this.

Nor do you want to.

"Well," Sylus gestures towards the bed, "I took the liberty of ordering some outfits for you."

You then eye the clothes that you didn't notice earlier, gawking at the stunning pieces that ranged from coverage to more provocative, and all in your favorite colors.

You turn to him, eyes wide "I - " You don't even know what to say - you want to thank him, but at the same time you didn't expect him to do all this. You know that he is as generous as he is wealthy, but his thoughtfulness always catches you off guard. One of the main reasons why you like him so much.

He chuckles at your cute reaction and pats your head. Then he takes the shirt that was still in your hands and walks towards the door. "I'll give you half an hour to pick out an outfit and warm up."

"Wha - ?"

He shuts the door behind him.

Fuck.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ♪ ฅ₍ᓀ‸ᓂマ ੭ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You took more time trying on your new pole outfits than warming up, leaving you with only five minutes to frantically pack them in an empty box you assumed was for the clothes, and to actually warm up. There was nothing underneath the skimpy outfit you picked out, since you had to get rid of your underwear that was ruining the look. There were even some heels waiting for you, and even though you didn't have to wear them, you couldn't resist. You put some of your favorite perfume on, of course, and in the middle of the brief warm-up you thought of one more detail.

There's a soft knock on the door and you frantically exit Sylus' closet, almost tripping in your high heels as you go back to the pole.

Sylus enters the room and you can see that he's stunned for a brief second, as he sees you wearing heels and one of his silk robes.

He closes the door behind him and comments with an amused smile "I don't remember displaying my robe on the bed."

You fidget the soft fabric of the belt, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart as the reality of the situation is starting to settle in. The pole next to you, Sylus asking you which playlist he should play, your nose picking up the familiar scent of his fabric softener.

You must've looked like a deer in headlights, because Sylus' concerned frown as he calls your name snaps you back to reality.

"Are you okay? You don't really have to do this -."

"No, I'm fine!" You clear your throat, steeling your resolve. You want to do this. "I was just trying to remember the song..." You grab your phone and hand it over to him to connect it with the stereo and go back to wait by the pole.

You may have fantasized about dancing for him more than you'd like to admit - and not just in these few days since you last saw him. You also may have more than one song that reminds you of him and that you created choreographies for.

While setting up, Sylus sits down on the sofa in front of you.

He can feel your eyes on him.

"What?" He asks, still setting up.

“Nothing.” You look away and do some of the last warm up moves. You wanted to jokingly ask if he expected a lap dance, but you chickened out. The deal was for you to just show off some of your pole dance moves, that’s it. No striptease, no lap dancing…

You collect the courage to make the joke anyway, but just as you open your mouth the first notes of the song you picked out hit your ears.

He puts your phone away and makes himself comfortable in his seat - legs spread, hands resting on his thighs, lips pulled in that smirk, his eyes fully focused on you.

So you give him your most confident-looking smile, grab the pole with one hand and start walking around it. You drag the platforms of your shoes across the floor, just gliding around before getting into the show-off moves. Your movements are fluid, making it looks so easy - from spinning around to air walking. The music and the dancing soothe your anxiety and lift your mood. You know you look good. After a few spins, the silk robe starts getting in the way. With your back turned to him, your hands untie the belt and slide the robe off your shoulders. You look back at him with a playful grin, and you can't help but feel smug at how immersed he is in your performance, one arm now resting on the backrest, eyes raking over your whole body and face, anticipating your next move.

The robe slips off completely and you toss it away somewhere. You feel your cheeks heat up as the air hits your newly exposed skin. This is the first time you've showed so much of yourself to Sylus, and you couldn't help but feel a little shy. But then you see him shifting in his seat, face a little more serious, the attention giving you butterflies. With so much of your skin exposed, you show off some of the advanced moves, and you feel a new boost of confidence. You know it’s stunning - the way you look in your revealing outfit and how you perform these moves with ease.

The other half of the song starts playing, and you decide to shift from the pole to the floor. Fixing your gaze to the side, on Sylus, you go down on all floors, slowly gliding your upper body, your butt propped up, giving him a perfect view of your silhouette. Red eyes follow every step and take in your expressions that go from focused to playful and a little flirty.

Maybe more flirty than you realize.

You lie on your back, lifting your legs and move your hips side to side, making slow waves with your legs. With every next move, you're bolder, more provocative, locking eyes with him as you move.

In the brief silence between the songs, Sylus chuckles "Is that all, kitten?"

You know he's teasing. After all the time you spent together, some of them literally tied to each other, you know how to recognize the slight differences in his tone.

You know how to tease too. Smiling mischievously, you get on all fours, back arched, and slowly crawl towards him, cat style.

Sylus' lips stretch into a half grin as he watches you close the distance, with you now on your knees by his feet. He loved every second of your performance, his admiration for you only growing, always unconsciously proving to him that you are worth every second of his time and every bit of effort to be more patient. But every moment of that performance made his patience run thin. The craving, the need for you – it’s starting to overtake him. The sensual moves, the most provocative outfit he picked out but thought he was pushing his luck with, they made your body, made you, irresistible. He needed to deflect. He loves teasing you because your reactions are always so cute and amusing. He expected a pout or a snarky comment but instead you started crawling towards him and-

You graze your hands over his thighs, feeling the muscles under the fabric of his pants twitch with your touch and stopping just around his hips. Then, you gracefully stood up and turned around, arching your back and moving your hips to the rhythm, giving him a nice view of your butt. As you look over your shoulder, you have to bite back a self-satisfied grin when you catch his gaze raking over your body, not being subtle about it at all. You turn to face him, hands grabbing onto his shoulders as you position yourself to kneel over him, and with every fiber in your body, you fight the urge to just sit on his crotch, to feel if he's hard at all. So you lean back, arms behind your back and holding onto his thighs as you stretch your torso and you roll your hips, your eyes locked with his.

With the second song almost over, you lean towards him, your lips tickling his earlobe, your eyes catching the goosebumps on the skin of his neck and the redness on his ear. "I guess this is all I got."

And just when you're about to push yourself off the sofa, Sylus' strong hands grab you by the hips, pressing them down on his clothed erection, a yelp escaping your lips upon contact.

"Are you sure?" His red eyes, illuminated by the low lights of his bedroom, are on you, lidded with lust.

Just a bit more.

You sigh innocently and avert your gaze, resting your arms on his shoulders, your hips moving lazily over the rock hard erection, earning a choked grunt from the man under you, his hands gripping the soft flesh of your hips and butt.

"Well..." You trail off, steadying your breathing as arousal started rapidly coursing through your body, making your mouth dry and pussy wet. "I think - !?"

Sylus' hand wraps around your jaw, making you look back at him. His lips are parted, cheeks flushed, and you don't think you've ever seen his eyes looking at you with such intensity.

Out of breath, he asks you, "Can I kiss you?"

"Y-yes."

His lips take yours in a searing kiss, the hand on your hip trailing over your back and pressing between your shoulder blades, while the hand on your jaw finds its way to the back of your head. It feels like an out of body experience to finally kiss Sylus, to feel his soft lips you've been eyeing for so long, to bury your fingers in his silver hair, to taste mint and red wine on his tongue, to feel the pulse on his neck under your hand. Your clothed pussy was fluttering, desperate for some attention, so you started moving your hips again, grinding against him, drawing out a low groan from the man.

"If you keep doing that I can't hold back any longer." He warns in a low voice against your lips.

You take his 'warning' seriously and suddenly sit up, kneeling above his lap once again. A flash of confusion (or disappointment) on Sylus' face gets quickly overwritten with surprise, followed by a cocky grin as your hands go to his belt.

He puts his hands over yours, making you look back at his eyes that softened a little. "Are you sure?"

You nod and try to shift your attention back to his belt, but he grabs your chin, his face a breath away from yours. "I need you to use your words, kitten."

You swallow thickly, the blood rushing under your cheeks and ears "Yes, I can't wait anymore."

Sylus gives you one more breathtaking kiss before he opens his belt and unzips his pants, hissing in relief as his hard cock is freed from his underwear. Your eyes widen as they stare at the sheer size of it, your pussy fluttering in anticipation.

You move the bottoms of your outfit to the side, making him groan as he catches the sight of your naked pussy lips, "Fuck, you had nothing underneath this whole time? You'll be the death of me."

Your chuckle is replaced by a soft whimper as he grabs his cock by the base and guides you by grabbing your hip, the tip sliding along your wet folds, grazing your clit. It slides right against your entrance, dipping in and out of your hole, each time a little deeper, before the tip is fully inside and you're already seeing stars. Now both his hands are on your hips, slowly guiding you down as he watches your face intently, a single drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

"You can take it, pretty girl." He chokes back a groan as your walls squeeze around him as he enters you deeper. It takes him every last bit of restraint not to thrust up into you and fuck you senseless.

He rubs soothing circles on your bud, making your legs twitch, the stretch of his dick already stimulating enough to send you over the edge. With a few shallow pumps, he fully enters you.

"That's it, you're doing so good." Pulling you into a tight embrace, his lips find yours, teeth nipping and tongue licking your bottom lip before he trails over your jaw to the sensitive skin of your neck. Holding onto his broad shoulders and nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, you slowly start moving your hips, sweat starting to drip from your back and your chest. He takes off your top, leaving you with only your bottom and the heels on your feet, while he's still fully clothed as you ride him. His tongue drags over between your breasts, drinking up your sweat, his lips then latching onto your pebbled nipple while his fingers play with the other one.

Your sensitive swollen clit keeps rubbing against his pelvis, as you roll your hips on his length.

Sylus hisses against your breast, "You're squeezing me so tight." He grabs you by the back of your neck, his face now close to yours. With his other hand squeezing your butt cheek, his hips thrust up, meeting your pace. "You gonna cum, darling?"

You can only mewl and nod in response. He notices your leg muscles shaking and hips staggering in their movement.

"Let me take over." He knows you're getting tired, but too lost in pleasure and probably too proud to admit it. He slides further down in his seat, letting your body rest completely on top of him. He holds onto your ass in a bruising grip, holding your hips in place as he starts vigorously thrusting up, the blunt tip hitting all the right places and the base and pelvis hitting your clit over and over until you're a panting moaning mess on top of him. His teeth latch onto the flesh between your neck and shoulder as your intoxicating smell, your voice, and pulsing cunt bring him closer to cumming too.

Just when you're about to come down from your high, Sylus suddenly sits up and throws a pillow from the sofa onto the floor.

"Hold onto me." He instructs and you do as you're told, wrapping your arms and legs around him, allowing him to, as gently as possible, lay you onto the floor with the pillow under your head.

He adjusts himself between your legs and continues the relentless pounding. The view on top of you makes your pussy flutter again - strands of his silver hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lust dazed eyes fixed on you, pupils dilated you can barely see the ruby red irises, wide shoulders and his whole fucking hot face and body you could stare at forever. But you need to feel his weight on your body.

As if reading your mind, he lies down completely on top of you, using one elbow for support while the other arm sneaks behind you and grabs your butt. "I'm so fucking close." He grunts against your lips, but you're too lost in pleasure to say anything back, only moaning and burying your face in his shoulder as your walls clench around his throbbing dick, the pressure of another orgasm building up.

The hand moves to grab your face, thumb tracing over your cheekbone, the gentle touch contrasting with his ruthless hips, "Let me see you, darling." His voice is both soft and strained.

You're the first one to break the eye contact as another orgasm crashes through you. Sylus' orgasm comes only seconds later, enhancing the intensity as his twitching cock spurts hot liquid inside your pussy.

With the last lazy rolling of his hips, you come down from your own highs, foreheads pressed together as both of you catch your breath. He gives you a soft kiss on the lips, and then just gazes at you with a tenderness you haven't seen before. His fingertips trace over the features of your face. "I hope you can spend the night here."

Of course, you accept the offer. And of course, you didn't sleep at all that night.

[teleportationmagic]

Writing Babs always feels like she's half an inch away from creating her own mini surveillance state.

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: Vox proposed a deal of sorts. Your soul in exchange for keeping you safe. At the time, you didn't feel like you had any choice other than to accept. So, you did. You pawned your freedom over to the man who hated your husband most in this world. What could go wrong?

☒ Warnings: gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, angst! established relationship between reader and alastor, lots of cursing and hard feelings, not a happy ending, vox has a strong attatchment to the reader, one kiss (between alastor and reader), lots of tears

☒ Word Count: 2,158

☒ Part Two Part Three

Ever since the day Alastor disappeared, life has been a living nightmare. Your lover left without a word. Which placed a gigantic target on your back as his spouse. You hoped that Alastor had a solid reason to go without telling you. But more than anything, you wished that wherever he was, he was safe. 

It would be a miracle if trouble didn't find you. But there were no such things as miracles down in hell. 

It didn't take long for Vox to find you. The surveillance cameras spread around the outskirts of hell were undoubtedly against you. You couldn't say you were surprised when being shoved into a van. Leading you directly to Vox Tec Headquarters. 

Vox proposed a deal of sorts. Your soul in exchange for keeping you safe. At the time, you didn't feel like you had any choice other than to accept. So, you did. You pawned your freedom over to the man who hated your husband most in this world. What could go wrong?

Well, your new living situation was difficult to adjust to. The other Vee's were cutthroat and heartless. Trying your hardest to get along with them proved to be useless. They didn't care to know you in the slightest. Not Velvette nor Valentino. However, Vox was an entirely different story. 

The man was uncharacteristically kind to you. Vox set you up with a private room specifically tailored for you. How he knew your favorite soaps and scents was beyond you. You figured it was best if you didn't know how exactly Vox came to know you like the back of his palm.

Vox always held a chipper tone with you. Going as far as disagreeing with the others to defend you when they spoke ill of you. You hardly understood why. What was his motive? A stranger's guess was as good as yours. 

As the years flew by, his kindness only grew. Vox made sure to check up on you at least once a day. He took pride in remembering the little details about you. Going so far as to bring you gifts after his outings, 'Just because.'

As much as you hated to admit it, you began to let your guard down with Vox. You started to accept his kind gestures with a smile on your face. Agreeing to hang out in his office while he worked. It became almost comforting to be in his presence. 

You hated yourself for it. You knew it was wrong. Alastor was your lover. But he also left you without a word, which caused a hint of resentment to grow within your heart. How could he drop you after everything? For a while, you hoped it was for a good reason. But seven years came and went, and not a single word from Alastor.

That was until you overheard a spat between Vox and Val. It was hard not to hear Vox's voice booming through the building. Your heart sunk into your stomach when you heard that your long-lost lover, Alastor, had been lodging up with the Princess of Hell for months now. 

He's been back for months. Months, and he hasn't had any concern to look for you. It stung worse than any other pain you've ever felt in life and death. How dare he discard you like a piece of trash? The resentment only flourished further in your bleeding heart. 

The moment Vox stormed out of Val's room after hearing the bad news, he was met with your teary-eyed countenance. His harsh glare softened the moment he saw your distressed state. In an instant, Vox surrounded your senses. His large palms rubbed your back in a comforting nature as he cooed at you. Vox whispered soft apologies into your hair as he allowed you to sob into his chest.

Your tears of sorrow quickly turned into tears of vexation. You begged Vox to get a car ready for you. You had to go to the Hazbin Hotel immediately. You just had to. It took lots of pleading to get Vox to agree. Your reminder of being on his leash eased his mind somewhat. Alastor may have owned your heart, but that was meaningless now that Vox proclaimed your soul.

The deal was no Vox Tech allowed on your person when you confronted Alastor. Vox grumbled in irritation from your stipulation, but he ultimately caved. It's not like you could flee from him even if you tried. 

Your hands shook as your knuckles came up to bang on the hotel door. Within a matter of seconds, the door flung open. You were greeted by the Princess of Hell herself. She had seemingly mistaken you for a demon who wished to be redeemed. Your frustration grew as she pulled you into the foyer, babbling nonsense. 

That's when a familiar voice rang through the open space. "Holy fuckin' shit. There's no way it's really you." Husk exclaimed before taking another swig of his cheap liquor. You immediately stormed toward the bar, ignoring the pretty fellow sitting on one of the stools. "Husk, where is he." Your voice was low and laced with malice. 

Charlie was so confused as she asked how you two knew each other. As was the spider demon that asked you who you were talking about. That's when you heard it. The familiar radio static crackle, calling your name. Something in your heart ached at the sound of Alastor calling out to you. It once brought you so much joy, but all that was left now was bitterness. 

"Uhh... how the fuck do they know, mister fancy talk creepy voice?" The effeminate fellow whispered over to Husk, who just shrugged him off. Not wanting to get involved in the slightest. You stormed over to Alastor, who stood at the base of the hotel steps. Before your mind could catch up, your body was quick to act. 

Your hand came up to strike across Alastor's face. But to no one's surprise, he caught your wrist before your palm collided with his cheek. "Careful now, my dear! That's no way to greet your husband after all this time!" An audible gasp filled the room. You heard the little whispers from behind you. But all you could focus on was the rage that bubbled up inside you. 

"You fucking asshole! How could you disappear without a word?" Your other hand balled into a fist before slamming against his sturdy chest. A small grunt escaped your husband from the harsh contact, but his crimson gaze never left yours. He slowly released your wrist, allowing you to beat your frustrations out on his chest until the adrenaline wore off. Quickly, that anger morphed into complete and utter sadness. 

Your balled-up fists shook as your body slumped forward. Your head sunk down, forehead colliding with Alastor's shoulder. "I waited for you, I..." A sharp sob wracked through your body. Your vision blurred as the tears spilled freely. Everything else melted away in that moment for you. The years of loneliness, anguish, and bitterness all came crashing over you at once. 

"Why don't we take this conversation elsewhere, my dear." Before you knew it, Alastor's shadows enveloped you. The scenery changed right before your eyes. Now, you were greeted by a large hotel room. Half of the space was overtaken by a beautiful woodland. The sound of the crickets chirping flooded your head. 

"I deserve an explanation, Al." You spoke through gritted teeth. Hastily wiping your tears. Alastor let out a deep sigh as he turned to face you. His signature smile wavered slightly as his eyes averted from yours. "It's rather complicated, my darling." He muttered, approaching you cautiously. 

Your eyebrows knit in frustration as you scoffed. "Really? That's your sorry excuse? You left me for dead. The least you could do was send a fucking postcard." You chuckled bitterly, crossing your arms. Alastor stepped closer, large palms grasping your shoulders. "I did not have a choice! Do you truly believe I haven't thought of you every second of every day since we last saw one another?" 

Alastor's voice was rigid as he met you at eye level. His look was pleading as he continued on. "I'm bound by my constraints. Even if I wanted to tell you, I couldn't! I still can't!" His radio static fizzled out toward the end of his sentence. The look of stress spread across his face sent a pang of pain in your heart. 

You couldn't help but soften. You knew Alastor was being genuine, and it killed you to know something terrible had happened to him. Your shaky hands rose to your husband's cheeks as tears brimmed at your lash line. "Oh, my love... I should have had more faith, but-" The blood in your veins ran cold as you cut yourself off. The recollection of selling your soul to Vox suddenly flashed through your mind.

Alastor knew something was wrong. He slowly brought his hands down to rub your sides soothingly. "But...? What's troubling you, my dear." You could hardly look at him. Shame coursed through your veins as a sob escaped you. Alastor's crimson orbs swirled with worry as he awaited your response with bated breath. 

"I did something terrible..." You confessed, sniffling before you continued. "I... I made a deal with Vox. My soul in exchange for protection." Alastor's lips twitched, nearly foiling his smile. His grasp on your waist tightened as he took in a deep breath. "This is all my doing. He only targeted you to get under my skin..." Alastor muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. 

More tears trickled down your regretful face. There was no getting out of this. You knew Vox would never let you go. At that very moment, you heard a call of your name. Coming from the window. You read the clock, dread flooding your chest as you realized your time was up. 

"I-I have to go. Vox put me on a curfew." You stuttered, slowly retracting your hands from your husband's face. You smoothed out your clothing and wiped away the last remaining tears. Trying to mentally prepare yourself for the ride back to Vox Tec Headquarters. 

"Please, I beg of you- don't go..." Alastor pleaded, clutching your hand with his. Your lips trembled as he continued on. "I just got you back. I don't plan on giving you up this easily." Your heart ached. You hated yourself for making a deal with Vox, for letting your guard down, for ever doubting Alastor. 

Your eyes fluttered open as Alastor's lips collided against yours. The kiss was desperate, pleading as your husband tried his hardest to convey just how much you meant to him through the embrace. He pulled back slowly, admiring your face from close up. "You're just as exceptional as the day I left you, my darling. Chin up, my dear. I'll get you out of this deal no matter what!" 

All you could do was nod in agreement as a call of your name repeated. A bit more pointed this time around. You slowly pulled away from your lover, giving him one last look. "I love you, Al," You whispered as your back faced him. Your confession was barely audible, but your husband heard it. Loud and clear. 

"I love you, my dear. More than anything."

You ignored the hotel patrons as you quickly took your leave. You emitted a shaky breath before opening the car door. Vox welcomed you with a smile as you sat beside him. The chauffeur wasted no time pulling away from the run-down place. You meekly peered out of the car, catching a glimpse of Alastor from the second-floor window. 

Your heart shattered into a million pieces from the rare sight of your husband frowning as he watched you descend down the bleary road with a man he had not a care in the world for. 

"Well? What did that nobody have to say for himself?" Vox chuckled, grasping your hand with his. Your head whipped in his direction. It took everything in you not to yank your hand from his grasp. You had to play it smart, or you would be sorry. 

"Excuses on top of excuses... this was a mistake. I never want to see that liar again." It pained you to utter those words. You just hoped your act would be believable enough. Vox captured your chin with his thumb and forefinger. A wide grin spread across his monitor. "Your wish is my command, sweetheart. I'll do everything in my power to make sure Alastor never crosses your path, for the rest of your afterlife." 

A cold sweat blanketed your skin from his words. Anxiety spiking in your veins. Vox pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He pulled you into a hug, soothing his large palm over your back. 

"That fucker needs to understand that you belong to me now."

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Autoenshittification

Forget F1: the only car race that matters now is the race to turn your car into a digital extraction machine, a high-speed inkjet printer on wheels, stealing your private data as it picks your pocket. Your car’s digital infrastructure is a costly, dangerous nightmare — but for automakers in pursuit of postcapitalist utopia, it’s a dream they can’t give up on.

Your car is stuffed full of microchips, a fact the world came to appreciate after the pandemic struck and auto production ground to a halt due to chip shortages. Of course, that wasn’t the whole story: when the pandemic started, the automakers panicked and canceled their chip orders, only to immediately regret that decision and place new orders.

But it was too late: semiconductor production had taken a serious body-blow, and when Big Car placed its new chip orders, it went to the back of a long, slow-moving line. It was a catastrophic bungle: microchips are so integral to car production that a car is basically a computer network on wheels that you stick your fragile human body into and pray.

The car manufacturers got so desperate for chips that they started buying up washing machines for the microchips in them, extracting the chips and discarding the washing machines like some absurdo-dystopian cyberpunk walnut-shelling machine:

https://www.autoevolution.com/news/desperate-times-companies-buy-washing-machines-just-to-rip-out-the-chips-187033.html

These digital systems are a huge problem for the car companies. They are the underlying cause of a precipitous decline in car quality. From touch-based digital door-locks to networked sensors and cameras, every digital system in your car is a source of endless repair nightmares, costly recalls and cybersecurity vulnerabilities:

https://www.reuters.com/business/autos-transportation/quality-new-vehicles-us-declining-more-tech-use-study-shows-2023-06-22/

What’s more, drivers hate all the digital bullshit, from the janky touchscreens to the shitty, wildly insecure apps. Digital systems are drivers’ most significant point of dissatisfaction with the automakers’ products:

https://www.theverge.com/23801545/car-infotainment-customer-satisifaction-survey-jd-power

Even the automakers sorta-kinda admit that this is a problem. Back in 2020 when Massachusetts was having a Right-to-Repair ballot initiative, Big Car ran these unfuckingbelievable scare ads that basically said, “Your car spies on you so comprehensively that giving anyone else access to its systems will let murderers stalk you to your home and kill you:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/03/rip-david-graeber/#rolling-surveillance-platforms

But even amid all the complaining about cars getting stuck in the Internet of Shit, there’s still not much discussion of why the car-makers are making their products less attractive, less reliable, less safe, and less resilient by stuffing them full of microchips. Are car execs just the latest generation of rubes who’ve been suckered by Silicon Valley bullshit and convinced that apps are a magic path to profitability?

Nope. Car execs are sophisticated businesspeople, and they’re surfing capitalism’s latest — and last — hot trend: dismantling capitalism itself.

Now, leftists have been predicting the death of capitalism since The Communist Manifesto, but even Marx and Engels warned us not to get too frisky: capitalism, they wrote, is endlessly creative, constantly reinventing itself, re-emerging from each crisis in a new form that is perfectly adapted to the post-crisis reality:

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/31/books/review/a-spectre-haunting-china-mieville.html

But capitalism has finally run out of gas. In his forthcoming book, Techno Feudalism: What Killed Capitalism, Yanis Varoufakis proposes that capitalism has died — but it wasn’t replaced by socialism. Rather, capitalism has given way to feudalism:

https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/451795/technofeudalism-by-varoufakis-yanis/9781847927279

Under capitalism, capital is the prime mover. The people who own and mobilize capital — the capitalists — organize the economy and take the lion’s share of its returns. But it wasn’t always this way: for hundreds of years, European civilization was dominated by rents, not markets.

A “rent” is income that you get from owning something that other people need to produce value. Think of renting out a house you own: not only do you get paid when someone pays you to live there, you also get the benefit of rising property values, which are the result of the work that all the other homeowners, business owners, and residents do to make the neighborhood more valuable.

The first capitalists hated rent. They wanted to replace the “passive income” that landowners got from taxing their serfs’ harvest with active income from enclosing those lands and grazing sheep in order to get wool to feed to the new textile mills. They wanted active income — and lots of it.

Capitalist philosophers railed against rent. The “free market” of Adam Smith wasn’t a market that was free from regulation — it was a market free from rents. The reason Smith railed against monopolists is because he (correctly) understood that once a monopoly emerged, it would become a chokepoint through which a rentier could cream off the profits he considered the capitalist’s due:

https://locusmag.com/2021/03/cory-doctorow-free-markets/

Today, we live in a rentier’s paradise. People don’t aspire to create value — they aspire to capture it. In Survival of the Richest, Doug Rushkoff calls this “going meta”: don’t provide a service, just figure out a way to interpose yourself between the provider and the customer:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/13/collapse-porn/#collapse-porn

Don’t drive a cab, create Uber and extract value from every driver and rider. Better still: don’t found Uber, invest in Uber options and extract value from the people who invest in Uber. Even better, invest in derivatives of Uber options and extract value from people extracting value from people investing in Uber, who extract value from drivers and riders. Go meta.

This is your brain on the four-hour-work-week, passive income mind-virus. In Techno Feudalism, Varoufakis deftly describes how the new “Cloud Capital” has created a new generation of rentiers, and how they have become the richest, most powerful people in human history.

Shopping at Amazon is like visiting a bustling city center full of stores — but each of those stores’ owners has to pay the majority of every sale to a feudal landlord, Emperor Jeff Bezos, who also decides which goods they can sell and where they must appear on the shelves. Amazon is full of capitalists, but it is not a capitalist enterprise. It’s a feudal one:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

This is the reason that automakers are willing to enshittify their products so comprehensively: they were one of the first industries to decouple rents from profits. Recall that the reason that Big Car needed billions in bailouts in 2008 is that they’d reinvented themselves as loan-sharks who incidentally made cars, lending money to car-buyers and then “securitizing” the loans so they could be traded in the capital markets.

Even though this strategy brought the car companies to the brink of ruin, it paid off in the long run. The car makers got billions in public money, paid their execs massive bonuses, gave billions to shareholders in buybacks and dividends, smashed their unions, fucked their pensioned workers, and shipped jobs anywhere they could pollute and murder their workforce with impunity.

Car companies are on the forefront of postcapitalism, and they understand that digital is the key to rent-extraction. Remember when BMW announced that it was going to rent you the seatwarmer in your own fucking car?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/02/big-river/#beemers

Not to be outdone, Mercedes announced that they were going to rent you your car’s accelerator pedal, charging an extra $1200/year to unlock a fully functional acceleration curve:

https://www.theverge.com/2022/11/23/23474969/mercedes-car-subscription-faster-acceleration-feature-price

This is the urinary tract infection business model: without digitization, all your car’s value flowed in a healthy stream. But once the car-makers add semiconductors, each one of those features comes out in a painful, burning dribble, with every button on that fakakta touchscreen wired directly into your credit-card.

But it’s just for starters. Computers are malleable. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing Complete Von Neumann Machine, which can run every program we know how to write. Once they add networked computers to your car, the Car Lords can endlessly twiddle the knobs on the back end, finding new ways to extract value from you:

https://doctorow.medium.com/twiddler-1b5c9690cce6

That means that your car can track your every movement, and sell your location data to anyone and everyone, from marketers to bounty-hunters looking to collect fees for tracking down people who travel out of state for abortions to cops to foreign spies:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/n7enex/tool-shows-if-car-selling-data-privacy4cars-vehicle-privacy-report

Digitization supercharges financialization. It lets car-makers offer subprime auto-loans to desperate, poor people and then killswitch their cars if they miss a payment:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4U2eDJnwz_s

Subprime lending for cars would be a terrible business without computers, but digitization makes it a great source of feudal rents. Car dealers can originate loans to people with teaser rates that quickly blow up into payments the dealer knows their customer can’t afford. Then they repo the car and sell it to another desperate person, and another, and another:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/27/boricua/#looking-for-the-joke-with-a-microscope

Digitization also opens up more exotic options. Some subprime cars have secondary control systems wired into their entertainment system: miss a payment and your car radio flips to full volume and bellows an unstoppable, unmutable stream of threats. Tesla does one better: your car will lock and immobilize itself, then blare its horn and back out of its parking spot when the repo man arrives:

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

Digital feudalism hasn’t stopped innovating — it’s just stopped innovating good things. The digital device is an endless source of sadistic novelties, like the cellphones that disable your most-used app the first day you’re late on a payment, then work their way down the other apps you rely on for every day you’re late:

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

Usurers have always relied on this kind of imaginative intimidation. The loan-shark’s arm-breaker knows you’re never going to get off the hook; his goal is in intimidating you into paying his boss first, liquidating your house and your kid’s college fund and your wedding ring before you default and he throws you off a building.

Thanks to the malleability of computerized systems, digital arm-breakers have an endless array of options they can deploy to motivate you into paying them first, no matter what it costs you:

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

Car-makers are trailblazers in imaginative rent-extraction. Take VIN-locking: this is the practice of adding cheap microchips to engine components that communicate with the car’s overall network. After a new part is installed in your car, your car’s computer does a complex cryptographic handshake with the part that requires an unlock code provided by an authorized technician. If the code isn’t entered, the car refuses to use that part.

VIN-locking has exploded in popularity. It’s in your iPhone, preventing you from using refurb or third-party replacement parts:

https://doctorow.medium.com/apples-cement-overshoes-329856288d13

It’s in fuckin’ ventilators, which was a nightmare during lockdown as hospital techs nursed their precious ventilators along by swapping parts from dead systems into serviceable ones:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/3azv9b/why-repair-techs-are-hacking-ventilators-with-diy-dongles-from-poland

And of course, it’s in tractors, along with other forms of remote killswitch. Remember that feelgood story about John Deere bricking the looted Ukrainian tractors whose snitch-chips showed they’d been relocated to Russia?

https://doctorow.medium.com/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors-bc93f471b9c8

That wasn’t a happy story — it was a cautionary tale. After all, John Deere now controls the majority of the world’s agricultural future, and they’ve boobytrapped those ubiquitous tractors with killswitches that can be activated by anyone who hacks, takes over, or suborns Deere or its dealerships.

Control over repair isn’t limited to gouging customers on parts and service. When a company gets to decide whether your device can be fixed, it can fuck you over in all kinds of ways. Back in 2019, Tim Apple told his shareholders to expect lower revenues because people were opting to fix their phones rather than replace them:

https://www.apple.com/newsroom/2019/01/letter-from-tim-cook-to-apple-investors/

By usurping your right to decide who fixes your phone, Apple gets to decide whether you can fix it, or whether you must replace it. Problem solved — and not just for Apple, but for car makers, tractor makers, ventilator makers and more. Apple leads on this, even ahead of Big Car, pioneering a “recycling” program that sees trade-in phones shredded so they can’t possibly be diverted from an e-waste dump and mined for parts:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

John Deere isn’t sleeping on this. They’ve come up with a valuable treasure they extract when they win the Right-to-Repair: Deere singles out farmers who complain about its policies and refuses to repair their tractors, stranding them with six-figure, two-ton paperweight:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/31/dealers-choice/#be-a-shame-if-something-were-to-happen-to-it

The repair wars are just a skirmish in a vast, invisible fight that’s been waged for decades: the War On General-Purpose Computing, where tech companies use the law to make it illegal for you to reconfigure your devices so they serve you, rather than their shareholders:

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

The force behind this army is vast and grows larger every day. General purpose computers are antithetical to technofeudalism — all the rents extracted by technofeudalists would go away if others (tinkereres, co-ops, even capitalists!) were allowed to reconfigure our devices so they serve us.

You’ve probably noticed the skirmishes with inkjet printer makers, who can only force you to buy their ink at 20,000% markups if they can stop you from deciding how your printer is configured:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/07/inky-wretches/#epson-salty But we’re also fighting against insulin pump makers, who want to turn people with diabetes into walking inkjet printers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/10/loopers/#hp-ification

And companies that make powered wheelchairs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/08/chair-ish/#r2r

These companies start with people who have the least agency and social power and wreck their lives, then work their way up the privilege gradient, coming for everyone else. It’s called the “shitty technology adoption curve”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

Technofeudalism is the public-private-partnership from hell, emerging from a combination of state and private action. On the one hand, bailing out bankers and big business (rather than workers) after the 2008 crash and the covid lockdown decoupled income from profits. Companies spent billions more than they earned were still wildly profitable, thanks to those public funds.

But there’s also a policy dimension here. Some of those rentiers’ billions were mobilized to both deconstruct antitrust law (allowing bigger and bigger companies and cartels) and to expand “IP” law, turning “IP” into a toolsuite for controlling the conduct of a firm’s competitors, critics and customers:

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

IP is key to understanding the rise of technofeudalism. The same malleability that allows companies to “twiddle” the knobs on their services and keep us on the hook as they reel us in would hypothetically allow us to countertwiddle, seizing the means of computation:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

The thing that stands between you and an alternative app store, an interoperable social media network that you can escape to while continuing to message the friends you left behind, or a car that anyone can fix or unlock features for is IP, not technology. Under capitalism, that technology would already exist, because capitalists have no loyalty to one another and view each other’s margins as their own opportunities.

But under technofeudalism, control comes from rents (owning things), not profits (selling things). The capitalist who wants to participate in your iPhone’s “ecosystem” has to make apps and submit them to Apple, along with 30% of their lifetime revenues — they don’t get to sell you jailbreaking kit that lets you choose their app store.

Rent-seeking technology has a holy grail: control over “ring zero” — the ability to compel you to configure your computer to a feudalist’s specifications, and to verify that you haven’t altered your computer after it came into your possession:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/30/ring-minus-one/#drm-political-economy

For more than two decades, various would-be feudal lords and their court sorcerers have been pitching ways of doing this, of varying degrees of outlandishness.

At core, here’s what they envision: inside your computer, they will nest another computer, one that is designed to run a very simple set of programs, none of which can be altered once it leaves the factory. This computer — either a whole separate chip called a “Trusted Platform Module” or a region of your main processor called a secure enclave — can tally observations about your computer: which operating system, modules and programs it’s running.

Then it can cryptographically “sign” these observations, proving that they were made by a secure chip and not by something you could have modified. Then you can send this signed “attestation” to someone else, who can use it to determine how your computer is configured and thus whether to trust it. This is called “remote attestation.”

There are some cool things you can do with remote attestation: for example, two strangers playing a networked video game together can use attestations to make sure neither is running any cheat modules. Or you could require your cloud computing provider to use attestations that they aren’t stealing your data from the server you’re renting. Or if you suspect that your computer has been infected with malware, you can connect to someone else and send them an attestation that they can use to figure out whether you should trust it.

Today, there’s a cool remote attestation technology called “PrivacyPass” that replaces CAPTCHAs by having you prove to your own device that you are a human. When a server wants to make sure you’re a person, it sends a random number to your device, which signs that number along with its promise that it is acting on behalf of a human being, and sends it back. CAPTCHAs are all kinds of bad — bad for accessibility and privacy — and this is really great.

But the billions that have been thrown at remote attestation over the decades is only incidentally about solving CAPTCHAs or verifying your cloud server. The holy grail here is being able to make sure that you’re not running an ad-blocker. It’s being able to remotely verify that you haven’t disabled the bossware your employer requires. It’s the power to block someone from opening an Office365 doc with LibreOffice. It’s your boss’s ability to ensure that you haven’t modified your messaging client to disable disappearing messages before he sends you an auto-destructing memo ordering you to break the law.

And there’s a new remote attestation technology making the rounds: Google’s Web Environment Integrity, which will leverage Google’s dominance over browsers to allow websites to block users who run ad-blockers:

https://github.com/RupertBenWiser/Web-Environment-Integrity

There’s plenty else WEI can do (it would make detecting ad-fraud much easier), but for every legitimate use, there are a hundred ways this could be abused. It’s a technology purpose-built to allow rent extraction by stripping us of our right to technological self-determination.

Releasing a technology like this into a world where companies are willing to make their products less reliable, less attractive, less safe and less resilient in pursuit of rents is incredibly reckless and shortsighted. You want unauthorized bread? This is how you get Unauthorized Bread:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/amp/

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

[Image ID: The interior of a luxury car. There is a dagger protruding from the steering wheel. The entertainment console has been replaced by the text 'You wouldn't download a car,' in MPAA scare-ad font. Outside of the windscreen looms the Matrix waterfall effect. Visible in the rear- and side-view mirror is the driver: the figure from Munch's 'Scream.' The screen behind the steering-wheel has been replaced by the menacing red eye of HAL9000 from Stanley Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey.']

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

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

[masked-men-fantasy]

Ask about their manhood size Headcanon (Overwatch)

Headcanon for my beloved masked men from Overwatch. What lies between them?

NSFW Content. MDNI.

Reaper

Gabriel just sighs when he hears the question. He pretends to have heard nothing from you. That is when you thought there would be no hope to learn more about his sexual information.

But once both of you are in a private area, Gabriel will look around to make sure there are no guards and no surveillance cameras around.

He then takes off his pants and undresses the remaining part that hides his shaft.

Reaper does have a decent one down there. 7.5 inches long, curvy up, and veiny.

There is not much pubic hair since his body has gone through many experiments.

His cock is twitching and leaking a clear, sticky liquid when you move your hand softly over his shaft. This is evidence that it must have been a very long time since he last did, and you were right.

"When I tried to do it myself, the pain always killed me, but not when I was with you." Gabriel said it with his shadowy voice, though his mask

"Can you help me with that?" This is probably the first time he asks for your help. And you are here to assist him through it.

Genji

Genji does not hesitate to answer that question instantly. He used to be a playboy in Hanamura. Having someone ask about what to expect down there means he will soon get a pleasant night for free.

"I used to have 5 inches." He answered, "But Doctor Ziegler gave me something new after I was resurrected by her."

That is when you realized Genji lost most of his body parts after that tragic incident.

But Doctor Ziegler does some miracle work here.

A prostatic cock is made from carbon fiber and metal, similar to most of his body. The shape is almost like a real one. That should be somewhere around 7 inches long.

"You know... It has been awhile since the last time I had intimate time with someone," he murmured.

His metal sheet moved closer to your face. Your hands were guided by his, touching his shaft. Both of your bodies are getting so close that you can feel each other's warmth.

You can feel your heart race, and the heartbeats of yours and his match perfectly.

Ramattra

Ramattra was annoyed when you asked him about that. He always declines to say that he has such a thing since it has nothing to do with his main intention.

It turns out your gut is right. Ramattra does actually have that thing down there.

"I cannot fathom what makes humans like you curious about Ominic's private part. This is your new low for you, pet." He said that while crossing his arm. His shaft points directly to your face, only half a foot away.

10 inches long, 7 inches girth, made with carbon fiber, flexible plastic, some wires, and special gelatin. It glows purple, too.

"I implemented this part myself after I left the monastery. I enjoy having some self-relief after a long-fought battle to reduce my stress," he explained.

It is not that big. You just said that to taunt him for fun, but Ramattra definitely did not take that as a joke.

"Did I just hear a challenge? from a weak human like you?" He snorted. His eyes contact your small body.

That is when you see him turn himself into a Nemesis form.

And yes, his manhood also turns into a Nemesis form as well.

"You better be ready for what I have in store for you, pet," he growled. His strong robotic hand grips your hip tightly, with no hope of escape.

Let us pray that you can survive the night despite what is going on inside you.

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Vox Headcannons

Do I simp for a literal flat screen TV?

Yes. And I still feel like it’s not my weirdest crush.

Similar to Alastor, he likes to have the dual reputation to the public of being a calm and collected media figure and someone with a veil of terrifying power. If he does become infatuated with you, depending on where you stand in hell, he doesn’t necessarily want it being promoted all over Hell. If you’re on the more powerful side, he’d like to strike up a mutually beneficial deal that points the two of you in a positive light, but if not, he’d much rather just have you privately beneath him in his company.

With this in mind, Vox does not like the cat and mouse chase that Alastor would revel in. In his mind it’s more annoying than anything. For him, there is more enjoyment in coming out on top and getting his way than playing a game of back and forth. If anything, he’ll get more and more irritated the longer you avoid his grasp, especially if its because you’re purposefully fighting against him.

Does NOT take overt rejection well. If his reaction to Alastor rejecting his business proposition is to hold obsessive revenge and borderline hate boners, having the person of his dreams flip him off will piss him off infinitely more. Just who do you think you are? Once he does finally have you, he is going to make you pay.

He does have the power to use brain washing and hypnotism. He is willing to use it, but it’s not necessarily a first choice. He also wouldn’t want to use it to simply brain wash you into wanting him and definitely not into screwing him. He would prefer to use it in small doses, perhaps to calm you down when you are upset with something he did or if he wants you to feel more at ease around him.

Is a fan of constant surveillance. With the amount of media at his disposal having a camera for his personal viewing would be easy peasy both before and after you get stuck with him. Also has an uncomfortably large collection of photographs of you that he keeps hidden.

If you are on the more accommodating side, his ultimate dream would for him to have you stuck up in a private apartment 24/7 in the ginormous studio that the Vees own. Keeps you right where he would want you as well as away from Valentino. I have a feeling that Val and Vox have a set up that as long as they don’t have to see or interact really with their partner’s “toys” and “pets” they don’t really care that much that they have them.

[gabrielleyueerrrrr]

Headcannon: Victim has paranoia—an irrational and intense fear that others are trying to harm, deceive, or plot against them, even when there's little or no evidence for it.

Hence the rocket corp has extensive surveillance cameras covering every inch of the campus.

Also, Victim's private office is secluded from other parts of the building, with the only visible entrance being the elevator that leads directly to his office.

He probably also secretly carries weapons for self defence and planned least a dozen evacuation routes only known by him.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - mentions of kidnapping, controlling behavior, lyla is both Miguel's number stan and number one hater, and blood.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Hey, show a little faith. Have I ever steered you wrong before?” LYLA whispered, hovering just above your shoulder. You paid her a skeptical look, and she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Okay, whatever, but you know who programmed me! You cannot believe Miguel would be able to give me this shining sense of humor.”

That point, you couldn’t argue – even if you still had your reservations. With a deep, faltering breath, you slipped through the barely cracked door and into Miguel’s shell of a bedroom. It was dark, save for the faint red glow emanating from some half-finished electronic weapon he’d been revising and adjusting for as long as you’d known him, and of course, Miguel was still asleep. It looked like he’d made a half-hearted attempt to pull one of his thin sheets over himself before collapsing face-down on the center of his bed – which was, in all fairness, probably exactly what happened. You’d learned his routine, by now, knew that he’d likely only sleep for another three hours or so before dragging himself out of bed and back to his surveillance room. This might’ve been the first time you’d actually seen him in bed, rather than hunched over one of his many consoles or laid across a bench in one of the lesser-used hallways, having given into his exhaustion before he could make it anywhere more private. You didn’t like it. It reminded you too much of waking up in the middle of the night to Miguel looming over you, silently leering as you pretended not to notice him, even if there was a world of difference between what he’d done to you and what you dreamed of doing to him.

You stepped over the threshold, then paused. “Why am I here again?”

“Blackmail.” Miguel had mentioned off-handedly that LYLA couldn’t feel human emotions, just imitate them, but you could’ve sworn you heard a note of pure zeal in her voice. “You get the picture, I spread it around, and we both benefit.” Your phone buzzed, and you fished it out of your pocket. It was practically a brick (being locked inside Miguel’s spider-fortress meant you were blocked from contacting anyone outside of that fortress, apparently), but you still liked to keep it nearby. In the futile hope that you’d be able to call someone, anyone if you did ever make it out of Miguel’s reach, one day. “He still hasn’t gotten over the 2099-Burger. You’ve seen it, right? That was some of my best work, you should’ve seen—”

You shushed her, and LYLA flickered out of sight before reappearing on the foot of the bed, a polaroid camera now hanging from her neck. Slowly, carefully, you moved forward, only to pause when you actually reached Miguel. He wasn’t wearing anything, because he never wore anything aside from his nanotech and maybe a threadbare pair of sweatpants, if you caught him after a shower. It’d been too long since his last haircut. It was already splitting at the ends, fighting against his half-hearted efforts to comb it back and falling over his face, distorting part of his (relatively) peaceful expression. Even unconscious, he was frowning, but the dark circles under his eyes were less pronounced, his lips contorted into something that was more of a pout than his usual scowl. No wonder LYLA wanted a picture. There had to be more than a few Spider-People who’d want proof that their irritable leader could be something other than angry.

Half stalling for time, half trying to talk that better taste off of your tongue, you turned to LYLA. “Remind me why you can’t just take you own pictures, again?”

“Some of us are just a bunch of flashing light. Hot flashing lights, but y’know, lights.” She held up her miniature camera, and you looked away before the flash could blind you. “C’mon, you can’t say you don’t want to get back at him.”

Right. Getting back at him. This was supposed to be your way of getting back him. He kidnapped you, tore you away from your loved ones, locked you in a case of glass and metal, and you were going to help his AI assistant take a picture of him sleeping. The perfect revenge.

Digging your teeth into the inside of your cheek, you raised your phone, but before you could take LYLA’s picture and retreat back to your own room to sulk, an alarm you hadn’t set went off at full volume. You cursed under your breath, stabbing blindly at the screen in a panicked effort to shut it up before Miguel woke up, but an arm lashed out from Miguel’s heap before you could, catching you by the waist and dragging you into his chest just as the alarm mysteriously when silent. You clenched your eyes shut, bracing yourself for his claws embedded in your skin, for a growled threat, but nothing ever came.

You forced yourself to open your eyes and found that, despite everything, Miguel was still unconscious. You heard a camera shutter behind you – LYLA, her grin too smug not to be genuine. No doubt, you’d be able to see her handiwork on every screen she had access to by tomorrow morning - meaning, of course, every screen in Nueva York. “I thought you said you couldn’t—”

“He’s a deep sleeper. Very reactive, though – did I forget to mention that?” There was a pause, a wink. “Oopsies.”

You grit your grit your teeth. “Are you at least going to make him let me go?”

“Ah – flashing lights, remember?” Again, she flickered, reappearing an inch or so away from your face. “I’ll see you in the morning, lovebirds!”

You opened your mouth, but she was gone before you had the chance to protest. Still, you squirmed against Miguel’s vice-like hold, attempting to shove at his arm only for another to wrap around his midriff, only for him to pin you that much more tightly to his chest. There was a low, heavy grunt, then his nose nudging against the side of your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin. Slowly, instinctually, his fangs pushed into the curve of your neck, drawing out a pained whimper, a thin trail of blood. His teeth lodged in your throat, his body wrapped around yours, he settled against you, his breathing falling back into a steady rhythm. Making sure you’d stay where you were until he woke up – whether that was in one hour or eight.

It was all you could do to take a deep breath, close your eyes, and hope LYLA would lead you to a swifter death, next time.

[veliana]

𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓜𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓪𝓷 𝓞𝓫𝓼𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓨𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓒𝓮𝓸

TW: Yandere behavior, obsessed!yandere Format: Headcanons A/N: This the first part to this drabble. I plan to quickly release a sequel where I'll detail their first date. I have a lot of ideas for this yandere, I just need to choose between headcanon and fic.

Yandere, an influential and wealthy CEO, is on his way to an important business meeting. His black limousine drives through the neon-lit downtown when his gaze accidentally meets yours as you cross a bustling street.

A shiver runs down his spine, his heart beating faster. It’s love at first sight. Your image is etched into his mind, every detail of your face and posture becoming an immediate obsession.

Back in his luxurious penthouse, Yandere immediately mobilizes his resources. He calls on his hackers to find any possible information about you. Within hours, he has a complete file containing your social media, interests, frequent places, and even close friends.

His private security team is put on high alert, ready to act at any moment. Yandere also starts acquiring everything you might like, filling an entire room of his penthouse with items and clothes you would enjoy.

Yandere monitors your daily habits through surveillance cameras he has discreetly installed around your home and favorite places. He learns your routine, anticipating your movements and desires.

For the first meeting, he decides to create an event that will catch your attention. He organizes a charity event at a luxury hotel, an exclusive and publicized affair, and sends you an invitation, making it appear as a work-related invitation, knowing it will pique your curiosity.

At the event, he arranges for you to be seated at his table. Using his charm and presence, he initiates a conversation, presenting himself as an admirer of your interests or work.

He treats you with exaggerated deference, his eyes fixed on you with almost palpable intensity. Every word you say is a revelation to him, and he eagerly offers you all the attention possible.

After this first meeting, he intensifies his efforts to enter your life more personally and intimately. He proposes dates and starts sending you lavish gifts. As your relationship progresses, he accompanies his gifts with affectionate notes signed "My King/Queen" or "Treasure."

Gradually, he subtly arranges to eliminate anyone who might pull you away from him, ensuring that he remains your top choice. He uses his influence to offer you opportunities that draw you closer to his world, creating an inevitable dependence.

_♡_♡_♡_♡_♡_

Does any one have an idea for the name of this adorable ceo ? :D

[hungwy]

In a press release, the FTC said that "Ring deceived its customers by failing to restrict employees' and contractors' access to its customers' videos, using customer videos to train algorithms, among other purposes, without consent, and failing to implement security safeguards." In one case, an employee "viewed thousands of video recordings belonging to female users of Ring cameras that surveilled intimate spaces in their homes such as their bathrooms or bedrooms," the FTC said.

That allegedly occurred between June and August 2017 and invaded the privacy of at least 81 female users of Ring products. "The employee wasn't stopped until another employee discovered the misconduct. Even after Ring imposed restrictions on who could access customers' videos, the company wasn't able to determine how many other employees inappropriately accessed private videos because Ring failed to implement basic measures to monitor and detect employees' video access," the FTC said.

...

Amazon completed its purchase of Ring in April 2018. The FTC complaint says that in August 2020, "a whistleblower notified Ring that between March 2018 and September 2019, a former employee had provided Ring devices to numerous individuals and then accessed their videos without their knowledge or consent."

The complaint continued: When the employee left Ring in September 2019, the whistleblower alleged that he took copies of these videos with him—without the knowledge or consent of his unsuspecting victims and without Ring noticing that anything was amiss. In February 2019, Ring changed its access practices so that most Ring employees or contractors could only access a customer's private video with that customer's consent.

"Importantly, because Ring failed to implement basic measures to monitor and detect inappropriate access before February 2019, Ring has no idea how many instances of inappropriate access to customers' sensitive video data actually occurred," the FTC said. "Indeed, Ring only discovered the incidents described above through the good fortune of employee reporting, despite having given employees zero security training and no responsibility to engage in such reporting. It is highly likely that numerous other incidents of spying, prurient behavior, and other inappropriate access occurred entirely undetected."

(emphasis is mine)

[sadseungmin]

Okay- I love your dark content but how dark are you willing to go?

Because I have haunting Adeline-esque thoughts about Chris

♡ being stalked by a psychotic bang chan ♡

psychotic bang chan x afab reader | dead dove | nsfw (MDNI)

p.s. i hope this is to your liking, whatudowhennooneseesyou!

⚠︎ tw: non-consensual elements (i.e somonophilia, forced bondage), physical abuse

♡ *̥˚ psychotic!chan watches you relentlessly *̥˚ ♡

Chan's obsession with you is deeply invasive and sexual in nature. His stalking begins with following you around town; he memorizes your schedule and takes note of the places you frequent. It quickly escalates into something more sinister and intrusive. Chan is aware of your schedule, so he knows when you're not home and how long you typically spend out. Using nothing more than a knife to manipulate your lock, he breaks into your home to place hidden cameras in your bedroom, living room, and bathroom.

Chan goes even further using the knowledge gained from his undetectable surveillance of you...

psychotic!chan uses hidden cameras: The hidden cameras being used are tiny, and therefore cannot be seen by you. They are used to watch your most private moments. He uses this footage to understand your habits, preferences, and vulnerabilities.

psychotic!chan knows when you're asleep: Chan sneaks into your home while you're asleep, touching you gently and whispering in your ear. He leaves subtle traces of his presence in the form of semen, hickies, and finger-shaped bruises. Fondling your breasts, he gropes the flesh, tugging and mouthing on its nipples as soon as they harden. He plays with your pussy, rubbing its clit through the fabric of your panties. When you leak slick, he dips his head between your thighs to inhale the sweetness of it. Your stillness and sleepy whimpers of pleasure spur him on every time. He finishes on your face, stomach, or thighs before slipping back out into the early morning.

psychotic!chan sexually manipulates you: Chan uses the information he's gathered from surveillance to manipulate his sexual encounters with you. He watches you masturbate in rapt fascination, noting how many fingers you use and how you touch yourself—whether you rub your clit fast or slow, in circular motions or vertical. He studies the kind of porn you consume and the Twitter accounts you follow for explicit videos. Chan even knows how long you can withstand your favorite vibrator without removing it from your pussy—how long it takes for you to squirt or cream all over it. Using this intimate knowledge, he coerces you into fulfilling his desires, framing it as your own fantasies or needs.

"Don't be scared, baby—I didn't mean to wake you. Shh, go back to sleep while I rub your clit. Surely, you don't mind, right? Isn't this how you like it to be touched? Don't deny it, y/n. Look how soaked your panties are! I can feel your clit twitching for me. Your poor little pussy is just aching to be stuffed, yeah? I can help with that."

♡ *̥˚ psychotic!chan obsessively collects your personal belongings *̥˚ ♡

Chan's obsession with you extends to collecting personal and intimate belongings. He steals your used underwear, jewelry, perfume bottles, and makeup items, among other miscellaneous things. He even takes your bed sheets and blankets, keeping all the stolen items in a hidden shrine dedicated to you. Chan needs to feel connected to you at all times, using these items not only to feel closer to you but also to assert dominance and intimidate you.

Chan goes even further using these items to understand you more...

psychotic!chan worships you: On the rare occasions Chan is not observing you via surveillance, he spends hours at his hidden shrine, worshiping and fantasizing about you. He strokes himself to the thought of you, wantonly moaning out your name, and finishes on the stolen items. Once he's done, he meticulously cleans them, only to cum on them again when his cock is ready.

psychotic!chan uses the items on you: Chan uses your stolen items as leverage in sexual situations. Remember that hairbrush you really liked? It's been missing from your vanity, and you've searched your home top to bottom and never found it. Well, Chan stole it weeks ago. Now, one of his favorite things to do is tie you up with your own used underwear and use the handle of that hairbrush to edge you for hours until you're crying, squirming in your restraints, and begging for release.

psychotic!chan controls your environment: Aside from stealing your things, Chan subtly redesigns your living space to his liking whenever he sneaks in. He moves your belongings, sometimes replacing them with items he prefers, gradually chipping away at your personal space.

"I swear, you're a goddess. Awe, I know, baby—you want to be untied, yeah? But how can I worship you when you push at me and try to run away? Besides, you look so beautiful all tied up with your mouth stuffed and that lovely hairbrush stretching your hole."

♡ *̥˚ psychotic!chan becomes a permanent fixture in your life *̥˚ ♡

Chan becomes an omnipresent force in your life as his obsession with you drives him to take further drastic measures to ensure he's always present. His control over your life becomes absolute, extending into the most intimate aspects, where he weaponizes your vulnerabilities to ensure you can never escape him.

Chan goes even further to ensure he will always be in your life...

psychotic!chan uses physical control: Chan continues to use his physical presence to intimidate and coerce. He ensures you feel powerless to resist, using threats or displays of dominance to keep you compliant. He's not above slapping, choking, spanking, or cutting. You may be his goddess, but even goddesses need to be put in their place on occasion—face down, ass up, knees sore, and holes viciously plowed into until their insides are molded to the shape of their worshiper's cock and their minds are too muddled to think.

psychotic!chan uses total domination: Any attempt to regain autonomy and remove Chan from your life is futile. But for him, this isn't enough—he needs more confirmation that you will remain his forever and never leave him for another. He hacks into your devices, reading your messages, tracking your browsing history, and even controlling your social media presence, all in an effort to isolate you further.

psychotic!chan has full control: You're feeling trapped and hopeless, but Chan promises he knows what's best for you. Sure, your boundaries of consent are obliterated, and you feel more like a possession than a human, but no one knows you better—loves and desires you more—than Chan does. He is everywhere now, inescapable, and your life is now his.

"Crazy? You think I'm crazy, y/n? Don't be such a cunt. I'm just in love with you! You're all I want, y/n. Why do you think I'm doing all of this? Come here, baby—Shh, don't fight me. I just need to fuck some sense into you because you're saying things you don't mean. You and I are destined to be together forever, y/n. Maybe if I fuck a baby into you, you'll understand better."

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine being the only person the King is protective of

King: What's wrong? I thought you were going to go to bed.

You: *has your arms wrapped around yourself for comfort* I... I was... but when I got there I could tell someone was or had been in there without my permission.

King: It was probably Yamato, that boy lives in the walls like a rat.

You: I know he does, but I can tell it wasn't him.... who ever it was, I could smell them all over my room, even on my sheets. I think it was a man, based off the smell.

King: What do you mean it was on your sheets?

You: well, when I entered my room I could kind of smell them, and I kinda figured it was just some servant, but then flopped down on my bed.

King: you shouldn't flop.

You: *ignored him* and I could smell them on my pillows, and my blankets, and even my stuffed animals. So I glanced around, and the only thing out of place was my closet door.

King: did you check the closet?

You: no, I was afraid someone was waiting for me in there, so I got the hell out of there.

King: I take it you came here to ask me to go check it out for you.

You: *nods*

King: alright, let's go.

At your room

King: *squats down and scuttles into your room* wow, the smell really is quite pungent. *Opens your closet door to find a surveillance snail installed* This can't be good for your snail, they need sunlight and fresh air.

You: I don't own a snail.

King: *notices Queen's embossed insignia haphazardly covered with tape off* he fucking didn't.

You: what?

King: let's check the rest of the room to see if we find any more of these. *Holds up the snail for you to see*

You: *after finding three more snails* who would do this?

King: Don't worry about it, I'll place one of the animal mary's in here when you're not around to make sure this doesn't happen again.

You: thank you, but what are we going to do with all of these guys.

King: leave that too me.

In Queen's lab

Queen: *cracks his knuckles as he sits down at his computer* okay let's see what m spy camera see.

Snails: *in the men's bathhouse*

Queen: *stares at his screen that's covered in hairy asses, before he turns off the entire system* I think I'm gonna throw up.

King: *drops from the rafters* Don't put those in people private rooms, if you do it again I'll alert Kaido.

Queen: ...ugh fine, lesson learned.

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[kimberly-spirits13]

Tired Timmy

Pairing: Tim Drake x reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Fluff- When you return from a mission, you realize how tired Tim is and get him to sleep.

Word Count: 1598

PS: I IMPLORE THE BATFAM WRITERS TO MAKE MORE TIMMY CONTENT

Tonight, was an especially cold night. Snow fell over the city and blanketed everything in sight. You had just gotten back from a mission in the Amazon and was on break from patrol duty. Aside from getting used to the change in climate from where you were versus where you are now, you were worried about Tim. Of course, he was relieved that you were back safe and sound, he told you as much, but he seemed especially stressed as of lately. It wasn’t uncommon for him to stress about you leaving for a mission without him, but even coming back didn’t seem to stall his emotions. 

            “How’s it going Timmy?” You asked in the comms, watching the surveillance cameras from around the city. 

            “mmm” he grumbled in response 

            “That good huh?” You started snickering at his response, “Only thirty more minutes and then you can come crash.”

            “Good to know.” He said as you watched him haphazardly swing from one building to another, “any leads on the Riddler case?”

            “A few, I’m pretty sure he and Penguin are in cahoots again. I’d say that they’re getting ready for a heist. Give them three weeks tops.” Tim heard paper being tossed around as you combed through the case files regarding your suspicions, “We can go over them when you’re rested.” 

            “I’ll be fine.” Tim said, “We’ll talk about it when I get back.” 

            You weren’t going to argue with him. Tim could be stubborn about working and you didn’t want him angry on patrol, especially when he was this tired. It was a good way of making sure that he came home injured. 

            “Dick, make sure that Tim doesn’t throw himself off a building or something.” You said on a private link.

            “I’m always on it, Y/N/N.” He replied in a chipper tone, “You see it too?” 

            “Yeah,” you leaned back in your chair, watching as the boys ran through the city, “I’ll pick his brain on it when you guys get back. Just make sure he comes back in one piece.”       

            “Will do.”

            You logged into the computer database on Penguin and Riddler’s recent moves, trying to pinpoint connections to them. It was late and you told Alfred to go to sleep so there was only Damian’s pets keeping you company. The first sign of extra life was the sounds of the Batmobile roaring through the underground tunnels. Sometimes, depending on how fast Bruce was going, the walls would vibrate and shake. Dust from the cave’s ceiling would fall onto the floor and in the air as he came flying into the garage. Today it was mundane, and no dust came off the walls. You heard the mechanical sliding of the doors opening and two pairs of heavy footsteps before the sound of two other engines roared through the cave. 

            “How’s the investigation going?” Bruce asked, raking through the papers as Damian picked up Alfred the cat from the chair arm rest.

            “It’s moving along nicely. I think they’re going for the new diamond exhibit downtown. I don’t know why anyone exhibits anything valuable in this city anymore.” 

            Bruce gave a stiff chuckle before patting you on the back, “Good work, turn in for the night, you need rest.” 

            Bruce started walking off as Tim came up and leaned over the side rest.

            “Hey babe.” He tipped your chin to give you a kiss.

            “How was patrol?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

            “It was fine.” He said, pulling up a chair next to you.

            “You seem exhausted.” “Timmy let’s go to bed. We need rest.”

            “Looks aren’t always as they appear Y/N/N.” He mindlessly ran his fingers through your hair and stared at you, “What do you have on the case?”

            You knew there was nothing you could do to get Tim to go to bed at this point. It was time for plan “Timber”. Talking fast, you told him everything you had. There was no repeating what you had said, and you started flipping through the papers as fast as possible without raising suspicion. You had the clocks set to look like a later time, making sure that Tim would think it was later than it was. It was obvious when the plan was working since you saw Tim’s unfocused eyes start wandering around the cave. When it got to this point, Tim would finally decide it was time to rest.

            “Does that make sense?” You asked, thumbing over his fingers, “I’ve got the schematics of the-“

            “Y/N/N, it makes sense but, uh, I’m not focusing anymore.” 

            “Do you wanna go to bed?” You asked, searching for any sign of resistance in his eyes, “Come on.”

            You stood up and pulled him out of the chair, he leaned into you and let his weight rest against you.

            “Sorry, you just got back from a mission, you must be sore.” He said, leaning off you.

            “It’s okay Timmy, I’m alright.” You hugged him and led him upstairs, “Come on, I’ll get you to bed.” 

            “M’ not a baby, I can’t get there myself.” He mumbled into your shoulder before pausing, “That came out snappy.”

            “You’re fine Tim. I know you’re tired.” 

            “I’m fine.”

            Again, you didn’t say anything back, but instead led him up the next flight of stairs and into his room. Leaving him to grab his clothes, you walked into the bathroom and started the shower. When the water was warm enough, you opened the door to tell Tim it was ready. He walked in before calling you back in, the softness of his voice showing how tired he was. 

            “Hey um, you haven’t showered yet either have you?” He asked, crossing his arms with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

            “I showered after dinner Tim.” You said, raising a brow.      

            “Oh yea.” There was a silence in the room for a few seconds.

            “But, if you insist, I can’t say no.” This made Tim chuckle a bit before you shut the door and he dropped the towel before he got into the shower himself.

            You quickly undressed and opened the glass door, joining Tim in the hot stream of water. Tim leaned his head against your shoulder and sighed deeply.

            “I’m tired.” He admitted, wrapping his arms around you, relishing in the heat of the water and the closeness of you.

            “I gathered as much.” “You’ve been over working yourself recently. I told Dick to make sure you didn’t run yourself to death before I got back.” 

            “It’s not Dick’s fault.” He said, “I have my ways.”

            “Oh, I know.” You laughed, making Tim laugh with you.

            “I’m glad you’re back. I thought I’d kill someone for the past three weeks.” 

“I’m glad to be back too. Also, glad you didn’t kill anyone, that would be unfortunate.”  You started running shampooed hands through his hair, washing the dirt and grime down the drain.

Tim closed his eyes and let the water run over his head, washing away the soap and eventually the conditioner that you ran through his hair. He began to wash himself, making sure not to run over the bruises on his torso. Tim gave you a quick glance before double taking.                      “What’s this from?” He asked, running a soapy finger over a stitched wound on your stomach, “I haven’t seen it.”

“Got grazed by a blade during the mission.” “One of the assassins got the best of Cassie and I jumped in front of her.” 

“It looks painful.” “I’ve been leaning on you this entire time, are you hurt anywhere else?” He spun you around and started looking for signs of other injuries.

“Besides a few bruises, I’m fine. You’re fine Timmy I’m not hurt.”

“This doesn’t look fine. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked 

“I didn’t want to worry you, you’re exhausted.” The rest of the soap ran off the two of you and into the drain, “I didn’t want you stressing yourself out.”

“I’m sorry.” Tim said honestly, “You said to get rest but I totally didn’t.” 

“Tim I’m not upset with you. I know it’s your job and you feel passionately about it, I’m just worried you don’t sleep, it’ll get you hurt on the field.”

“I know you’re right.” 

“Come on, let’s get dress and go to bed. I don’t think I have a change of clothes in here.” You said grabbing two towels from the heated rack.

“I brought you some sweats.” Tim replied with a smirk.

“Oh, so you’re admitting that you planned this all along?” You laughed nudging him jokingly.

“Just the shower.” 

            When you had dried off totally, you walked back into the bedroom and turned the fan on. Walking back to the bed, you saw that Tim was already getting into bed. His eyes were fluttering shut and opening again, over, and over. He turned his head to you and spread out, getting comfortable.

            “I’m tired.” He said softly.      

            “I know love.” You climbed next to him and reached over him to turn the lamp off.

            “That’s a good view babe.” Tim said with a smirk in his voice before you leaned back onto your side.

            “Glad you approve.” 

            You laid down, pulling Tim closer to you. He put his head into the crook of your neck and took a deep breath before wrapping his legs around you. Pushing the covers over his shoulders, you ran your fingers through his hair, watching as his breath evened out and his body relaxed. 

            “I’m exhausted. Can’t sleep without you” he said in a whisper.

            “I know Timmy, but you can sleep now.” 

[nekropsii]

canon davekat is my best friend and Fanon DaveKat is like if instead of coming back wrong they never died in the first place and some fucker cloned them like. Really Poorly. but everyone just decided that was about right and kept hanging out with the clone.

The part that gets me the most with modern DaveKat is the fact that they’re very aggressively in the spotlight. This… Is antithetical to the point of their relationship for me.

Dave and Karkat’s relationship started developing on The Meteor, earlier than some might think. Dave canonically thinks The Meteor is the place he grew the most as a person - it’s the first time he’s been able to really put his swords and shields down, rest, relax, and allow himself to love and be loved.

It is also the first place he’s ever had privacy.

Dave’s life has been absolutely fraught with constant surveillance. He never knows when there’s a camera on him, when Bro is watching, et cetera. Eyes, eyes, eyes. Eyes on him constantly. He never knows when his random fooling around in the walls of his own home are part of some creepy guys’s fetish material, he never knows when he’s going to be expected to pick up the sword and fight an unfair battle again, he never knows when he’s going to wander into some random traps burying him in his adult brother’s sex toys. Surveillance. Hypervigilance. Cameras. Cameras. Eyes.

His relationship with Karkat having been formed and developed largely offscreen… It meant things to me. Offscreen development is good sometimes, actually. This relationship, this thing that’s really helping Dave calm down and recover, is being done in private. Away from everyone’s eyes. Even those of the fans.

That’s perfect, I think. Their relationship being mostly offscreen really fits them.

But we’ve stripped all that away in favor of this fandom’s fetish for intensive, constant voyeurism. It’s worse, and it’s boring, and it sucks. Official material isn’t free of this criticism - I hate how DaveKat is so in your face these days. I don’t like that. It blows. I hate feeling the same as the cameras of his childhood.

[randomfoggytiger]

React: A Late-Canon Reviler Gives the Revival a Try (Plus One, Forehead Sweat, Ghouli, Kitten, Rm9sbG93ZXJz, Familiar, Nothing Lasts Forever), Part VI

Part I (My Struggle I), Part II (Founder's Mutation), and Part III (Weremonster), Part IV (Home Again), Part V (Babylon), and Part VI (This.)

Had to cut down on my react posts because I didn't have the time, drive, or willpower to keep plowing through at the same rate.

OVERALL THOUGHTS

The usual complaints.

There are overly dramatic "DUUUUN" musical cues, scenes end too quickly, camera shot transition at odd times, and the cast can be too wooden or too emotionless in moments that desperately need something (Mitch Pileggi excepted. He nailed it.) David and Gillian trade off believability in their respective roles; and usually not in the same scene (unfortunately.) Scully is stuck with her 30-years-a-smoker voice; and Mulder magically finds every answer he could ever want from the Dark Web. (I don't think "the Dark Web" means what the writers think it means.)

However. The plots are tighter, the humor more effective, and the pacing (a tad) better constructed.

I wouldn't mind rewatching mid-S11 if it followed different characters in a different show. As it stands, nothing really hit the spot.

PLUS ONE

Mulder and Scully are but aren't but are together in S10 and S11. They also are in This but aren't in Plus One. What the script says they do versus what DD and GA portray them doing often clash.

Yeah, Mulder and Scully are already involved again in this episode. My theory: scoot-in-your-boot is a private in-joke they have. Backed up by: his twinkle and her quick "I'm scooting you out of here."

The siblings were like a Punch and Judy show, get it? (Chucky Poundstone? Punch? Ehhh? Also, Chuck like Chucky the doll. ...And also like the other Revival Chuck doll, Mr. Chuckleteeth.)

Plot problems:

A man who matched the profiles of recent, suicidal "sudden schizophrenia" victims was left, alone, in his cell while he screamed for help. That would not fly by 2015 standards. And if it did, there would be serious consequences or a serious attempt at a to cover up (which the cops didn't attempt to do.)

Chucky Poundstone: Fight Club levels of overacting.

Mulder and Scully were constantly called hot not because the topic naturally bloomed in conversation but because it was relevant to the episode's theme.

Scully let Demon Judy get to her. Scully wouldn't have been bothered to be out of "child-bearing age" because Mulder might want kids with someone else (WHEN HAS MULDER EVER)-- she should've been because she wasted their one shot at parenthood and "threw away" their son. Wrong track, wrong manipulation tactic. Like point 3, this was only brought up to serve the episode's theme, not because it was crafted to fit the characters.

A lot of Mulder and Scully's theories talked past each other or leaped from point to point without fully fleshing out the last one (i.e. Scully derailing their theories to insist that ghosts don't exist.)

Scully almost threw away the pills Judy gave her instead of, I don't know, testing them first.

Scully and Mulder didn't keep the lawyer under surveillance after he saw his double.

Scully didn't believe in the Devil anymore... despite the fact that she used to, and we aren't told when or why she changed her mind. Imperative character development the writers neglected.

Scully thought it was more plausible that a man would cut off his own head through shared psychosis than the possibility of a supernatural element at play.

Scully was butchered either way: she believes in a supernatural element but doesn't want to admit it to Mulder because Judy might be right about her; or, she believes everyone is in a state of delusion yet still gives weight to Judy's pokes about her age.

The "Can you hold me?" scene was pleasantly in-character for Scully, but wobbled and waffled for Mulder. It also bucked up against their "we're already together" vibe, and didn't fit with This (at all.)

"I don't have anyone to have one [a kid] with even if I could [have kids]." Script, don't insult my intelligence; Scully was literally in Mulder's arms when she said this ("What are we gonna do?"/"We'll think of something" kind of saves it. Rather, salvaged it.)

Mulder didn't see Scully's doppelganger even though he was facing the doorway and was on high alert. Scully didn't TELL HIM she saw her doppelganger earlier (which is stupid because she'd either be aware it's-- hello-- an evil entity or she could be considered a risk in the field.)

Mulder ran off WITHOUT SCULLY after seeing his double and after she admitted to seeing her own earlier.

Scully ATE RANDOM PILLS instead of, I don't know, analyzing them first. The plot needed to have Scully have the pills because she wouldn't have saved herself otherwise. And also: why did the placebo pills work??? We're never told anything about them other than they're leftovers from Judy's food, and that the nurses superstitiously take them, too. That's it. No followup.

Scully continued to drive after seeing "herself" in the backseat. She should have pulled over-- even if she believed the doppelganger was only an illusion-- because she'd become a road risk and was following the pattern of the other victims.

The siblings just got mad at each other and wrote each other's names in the hangman slots. Which saved Mulder and Scully while killing each other, conveniently.

The "Mom" and "Dad" hangman papers haven't aged a day, despite being written, supposedly, when Chuck and Judy were kids.

DD salvaged the ending by waiting in the doorway for Scully.

Plus One thrust me into a world where Mulder and Scully are jumping in and out of bed, from Unremarkable House to motel, from etc. to etc., without ever talking about their future-- more accurately, where the writing pretends Scully never pondered the obvious conclusion.

THE LOST ART OF FOREHEAD SWEAT

This episode worked... up to a point.

As a one-off, the comedy hit pretty consistently and Reggie was an enjoyable third wheel. (I admit: I ALMOST laughed out loud when Reggie shot Eddie Van Blundht in the head.) The writing was tight, the dialogue flowed smoothly, there were no out-of-place musical beats or lingering camera shots.

As a part of the overall canon?

Forehead Sweat solidifies, for me, what doesn't work about the "modernization" of the Revival. Dr. They kindly pronounces that Mulder and his way of life is no longer necessary in the current age... and that's the stickler. The current age. Fox Mulder didn't fit into the current-world 90s, either, because the mythology and Consortium and mystery behind the original show was a fabrication inspired by old politics-- the Cold War-- that was then mapped onto a very loose, very forgiving framework. If Carter and Co. had kept to that formula, had steered away from cookie-cuttering the 2015-2018 political climate into their show, then Fox Mulder and Dana Scully wouldn't seem so lost and out of place chasing X-Files in the forest in their 50s while aliens did or didn't plan to colonize the planet and Skinner might or might not be on their side. Because that would raise questions: why hasn't the Trump Administration shut them down-- he'd consider their unit useless. Why are Mulder and Scully now afraid the FBI will be suspicioned or "shut down" if it's always been corrupt, if even now they serve a counter-culture role to the establishment, instead of striking off on their own? More importantly, in an era steeped in finger-pointing and blame-shifting and distrust and disbelief, there's no way the cases that drift to the basement wouldn't be blown up on social media within hours-- especially when the 90s already had NICAP and MUFON and other groups who closely followed their niche interests. The logic of The X-Files quickly falls apart in a world that would afflict stricter and harsher consequences, 2015 and 1993 alike.

That aside, this was the best Revival episode, thus far, in terms of quality. I will give it that. (Note from the future: that will be outdone, I believe, by Ghouli.)

Plot problems:

The comedy bits hit, but Mulder and Scully warp in and out of character to achieve them (particularly: the repeated one where Scully keeps leaving before Mulder finishes rambling. Ironically, it's out of place with Darin's other comedic episode Weremonster as well as 200+ other examples of her character. But if the execution had been tweaked, those scenes would have been satisfying to watch. )

Mulder was LOUD. That's not new; but he was LOUD in the wrong moments, at the wrong times-- raising his voice, yelling, punctuating statements with STATEMENTS rather than his usual smooth pantomime or one-off, quick-witted remark.

The Babyfication of Dialogue continues ("sugarboobs", "I'm Fox Freaking Mulder, you punks!", etc.)

I'll bet Reggie kept hiding from the baddies in Skinner's office, hence why he knew him. This isn't a criticism so much as a theory. Or maybe those two gossiped over the water cooler-- Skinner knows everything and everyone, after all.

The Trump Administration poses no threat compared to the global Consortium and Conspiracy Mulder and Scully faced in the 90s. It was considered a threat to 2016s America, which would explain the "I feel like the world's gone mad" quotes the two leads keep kicking around. But, to them? Who lost and almost died and tried to save as many lives as possible to the Syndicate? And in a mythology that had large, regular gatherings of conspiracists who believed in aliens and distrusted the government (as seen in The Red and the Black) it disrespects the intelligence of its viewers by injecting and magnifying struggles that Mulder and Scully would philosophically take on the chin.

GHOULI

Another bump up in quality. The sharp back-and-forth camera techniques are better utilized with this episode's destabilizing, reality-questioning moments. Mulder rambling about the pathos and history behind classic monsters is a classic Mulder moment, Scully snorting and slightly smirking as he does so is a classic Scully moment. Is this the origin of the "Bob" nickname on Tumblr? The girl's "Kids would get stoned on it, in the summer. ...Not me!" was hilarious. Scully's speech in the morgue was the most Scully moment I've seen thus far. Scully subtly admitting to hiding evidence from her parents in her mattress (like Jackson.) Skinner always gets updates about Mulder's activities through other government employees' complaints.

Demerits: shots and cutaways still, well, cutaway at odd moments. Instead of holding on a scene and easing the audience into the atmosphere, cutcutcutcut snaps them out of it. But that's par for the course in the Revival; and it's not tooooooo badly done in Ghouli. Hoebag Jackson Van de Kamp. Mulder didn't get a moment to grieve over his son.

Thoughts? It turned from gripping mystery to big, fat disappointment. Skinner was great, Scully's morgue scene was great, um, Clone!Mulder had a nice moment or two. Jackson stank. As a condensed, disparate experience? It's alright. I quite liked it. (But it still wasn't The X-Files to me, etc. etc.)

Plot problems:

Mulder initially thought Scully's experience was sleep paralysis when he quite literally experienced this before in Paper Hearts. And neither were off-put or shaken by the similarities. (The episode tries to patch this up with, "You've been receiving visions through seizures. I'm sure this is another form"; but that's after she pointed to an open x-file and identified that boat as the one in her "dream".)

Mulder quoted a quote similar but different to his own from the original show. Instead of, y'know, quoting his own quote.

Mulder and Scully's kid is just Free Willying it up everywhere. And for what?

If CC wanted to do away with William (and that's an if), his death and his last attempt at justice for himself and his adoptive parents would have been a mature, heartbreaking way to do it. But no, we got My Struggle IV instead.

Mulder is oddly hesitant to believe his son's alive-- he's usually the one who is borderline delusional about believing and having hope. Yes, the series is supposed to show Mulder on the "other side": depressed (maybe? jury's out), burnt-out, and afraid to believe. But it goes back and forth on that message so often that there is no concrete change in his character to hold onto.

SKINNER'S ON THE CSM'S LEASH AGAIN.

We're back on the "men in Conspiracy but actually aliens but ACTUALLY men in Conspiracy" schtick. Pick a lane, mytharc.

Jackson played dead but it backfired because his parents found him not the agents, then he had to escape so the agents know he's on the run anyway, so.... *Cue Tony Stark*: "Not a great plan." Jackson is an idiot.

Mulder puts together all the pieces of the case off-screen without us, the audience, being there to see him working the mystery out logically. A "tell don't show" approach that undercuts the brilliance of his leaps.

Jackson let his two gfs see a monster and stab each other.... Jackson is an idiot.

Jackson made up a monster legend website to prank both his girlfriends-- who don't know the other exists-- at once; and ended up causing them to stab each other in fright. Jackson's an IDIOT.

Jackson is an IDIOT and a bit of a psychopath. And a LOT of an IDIOT. And he only got his visions and powers recently (since My Struggle II or III, it would appear); so he had to be an idiot before unlocking his abilities-- like the Rush highschoolers. So. Great going, writers.

SARAH TURNED HIM IN BECAUSE HE WAS KISSING ANOTHER GIRL. I mean, get him, girl; but then don't come groveling back.

JACKSON DOES THE MULDER FOREHEAD TOUCH WITH ONE OF HIS TWO GIRLFRIENDS.

JACKSON GOES ON THE RUN INSTEAD OF ASKING FOR HELP FROM HIS POSSIBLE BIO MOM DESPITE HAVING VISIONS OF HER BECAUSE HE'S AN IDIOT.

Mulder. Never. Had. A. Moment. With. His. Son. WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY.

Oh. Mulder and Scully accepted their son wanted to move on with his life, away from them. ...Nnnnnnnoooooooooo, Jackson's not safe and is now an orphan and a high school dropout. NOPE.

KITTEN

This is Blood and Sleepless and Wetwired 4.0. ...But it's not bad.

Mulder snooping around Skinner's kitchen... fine, I liked it. Sue me.

The cop... fine, sue me, I liked him.

Skinner's code name is Eagle... because he's bald. I don't care, sue me, that was hilarious.

Skinner had the best speech.

I admit: I really, really do like this episode. It's the only one that fits into canon, oddly. (Mulder and Scully aren't themselves, etc. etc., blah blah, what else is new.)

My overall thoughts: Um. What did it achieve? Kinda progressed their characters forward... but had to regress them, first. Mind control and chemtrails and falling teeth and Mulder and Scully possibly holding Skinner's career back and Mulder distrusting Skinner but trusting him again while Scully did trust Skinner and was proven right in the end.... And a reference to Mulder's juices. It was necessary for Season 11, character-wise-- a "let's repair the damage to Mulder's trust issues" (which had been resolved?? in This but then wasn't, I guess??)

Plot problems:

There goes S9 Kersh's character development: all that he came to believe in. Right down the drain. (Not that I care; but keep it consistent, series.)

Scully questioning what happened to "the old, reliable Skinner we always knew and loved" is RICH considering A. she and Mulder were questioning his loyalty not five episodes ago and B. Skinner constantly got his hands dirty to help them out (which they largely forget in the Revival, for plot reasons, unless forced into a corner.)

Mulder: "As much as I don't trust the guy right now--" EXCUSE ME. I don't care what My Struggle II or III implied, Mulder of all people, Mulder, has seen Skinner squeezed into tighter corners and still ended up trusting him.

Skinner's getting framed, again, on surveillance tape.

SCULLY giving Skinner the benefit of the doubt, NOT MULDER.

There's no way Skinner's surviving that wound without blood transfusions and serious medical attention. Nope.

Skinner... was behind the two agents... in a pit... but managed to not only climb out but outrun them... in the woods... with a side wound... and knock over a full-grown man... and punch him enough so that said man could get caught in his own trap. ...'Kay.

So. The teeth falling out was never explained. Except to suggest, I guess, that the gas slowly rots them out? Except the policeman and his wife also had teeth loss? Or was that as a comedic bit? Or and as a comedic bit? Who knows!

WAIT, I WAS WRONG. CHEMTRAILS. Really. CHEMTRAILS SPREADING POISON OVER THE TOWN. (Blood already did this but BETTER, writers.)

Mulder's "We're with you" is undercut by nearly 30 years of previous history.

Rm9sbG93ZXJz

This episode is, again, not too bad.

The characters, again again, don't feel like Mulder or Scully to me; but I could see Mulder and Scully doing the actions that the characters did. All in all, I can see why those who like the Revival would enjoy watching this.

Also, I still wish Clone!Mulder never had to pay the tip.

Plot problems:

The world with all this tech doesn't coincide nor coexist with The X-Files universe (and, yes, that include the Revival.)

The whole... not speaking thing. I know it was supposed to be artistic or to convey some layered meaning; but, narratively, it was off-putting. Perhaps if they'd both been knocked about in the field, and it was painful to talk? Mutual tonsil surgery? Anything??

Whipz. Get it? Scully whipz and naynays.

The robots having that much influence over lesser forms of tech (i.e. Mulder's cable, not smart, tv.)

Mulder would have absolutely spiraled if he'd experienced half of what this episode put him through. Scully would have spiraled. None of this would not have been easily brushed aside with a tip.

Mulder still calls sex phone operators; and the machines ratted him out to Scully. Either that, or it was a callback just so Mulder could tell the caller to "Shut up." He's grown and changed, guys~~~~~.

It doesn't make sense why the robots are trying to kill Mulder or Scully if they want a tip from them. OR, one could argue, the robots are threatening Scully's life so Mulder will pay the tip. Either way, the two could have been killed multiple times if they hadn't ducked or dodged. Seems counter-intuitive, and mostly just in service for a "surprise, we just want the tip" twist ending.

"We have to be better teachers." REALLY. That's the takeaway. Not the fact that they were almost KILLED due to the incompetence or oversight of whoever created these robots. REALLY.

FAMILIAR

So. Uh. Classic X-File. Held up pretty well. Classic Mulder eating crime scene evidence. The script was old-school tight.

In other words, this was Chimera 2.0. But not too shabby.

Plot problems:

The police immediately rule out the child's cause of death as a murder. And think it might be a coyote. Or a coy wolf. ...Uh huh.

"You're my homie": Babyfication back.

Scully doesn't believe in human combustion. ...Honestly, shakes out with her theory having been disproved in Trevor. (Although, I don't know if there was a spontaneous human combustion case in S9, feel free to correct me.)

Scully telling Mulder he's "wasting his time" for wanting to interview a little girl who was an eyewitness. ...WHAT.

The boy's mother is... not the best actress. Taking me back to the OG show at times.

What are those creepy teletubbies. Nightmare fuel.

The community... didn't know... there was a convicted sex offender... in their midst. ...Did no one care to look up, I don't know, A SEX OFFENDER REGISTRY??

WHY is Scully fighting back against his witchcraft thesis when she's witnessed a witch doctor plastic surgeon AND a bewitched doll??? Amongst such things????

Gotta admit: I chuckled when Mulder accidentally got the Chief to confess to an affair (his "I... did not see that coming.") However: that scene was wildly out of place amidst the tragedy of the salt-circle and the possible murder of the innocent-in-this-case pedophile.

The episode just skips from the police officer shooting the pedo straight to the officer's trial. ...What happened to that old curse put on the town, huh? Just... took a break for a couple weeks? Mulder and Scully stuck around, or flew out-and-in while Mr. Chuckleteeth took a power nap?

Officer Wentworth let Scully's suspicions slip to the child's father, at the child's funeral, and is kind of portrayed as the good guy here. He doesn't express remorse for not following protocol (especially to a broken-down father grieving the death of his child), only that he is "sickened" a man (the father he broke protocol for) gunned down another man without due process. ...'Kay.

So, all the responsible parties involved all die because the jealous wife was cursing the cheating woman and eventually her husband. ...But if that's the case, why did the Hellhound go after the CHILDREN first, not the two people it was summoned to punish?? Usually things go awry after a bit of murder and mayhem, not before.

NOTHING LASTS FOREVER

What a stinker of an episode. Just when the cinematography levels out, the plot absolutely rots.

I did like Mulder scaring off the two officers by pretending to be a religious supernatural investigator.

And the church scene was good. It was necessary for this series, for these characters. Glad it was done. (I say Scully whispered she's ready to let go of the past: a.k.a. move back in with him, let go of the files even, let go of her rigid expectations of herself. Hence Mulder's line: "I always wondered how it was going to end.")

Plot problems (well... some of them, lost interest):

I hated... everything about that opening sequence. Doctors eating pancreases, illegal organ harvest, "chemtrails" reference, NINJA WOMAN WHO CAN TOPPLE A GROWN MAN, NAAAAH, GET IT OUTTA HERE. THIS ISN'T BATWOMAN, BOOOOOO.

Mulder's defensive over his glasses. ...They both have needed glasses since the 90s. Is Scully ribbing him over a stronger prescription?? I don't think so.

Mulder only has progressive lenses because the plot needs a contrast to a cult sacrificing people for eternal life (Our Town and Sanguinarium and Roadrunners, anyone?)

The gore's just off the charts, huh?

Crazy, washed-up actress living off of her shut-ins' blood. Possibly their organs. To remain forever young. ...I unironically read a better fanfic of this, ngl.

There are so many, too many, egregiously many plot contrivances. Wow. Here's just one set: Ninja killer is seeking vengeance but just happens to attend church the same day Scully just happens to attend church the same day Mulder happens to follow Scully in the same day the priest happens to put up the verse that just so happens to correspond with the verse on the evidence organ cooler which just so HAPPENS to be tied to a small illegal operation keeping a crazy washed-up actress alive and young while she subsists off of parts from her shut-ins she "rescued" from the street. Stunning.

Mulder never had a dog: confirmed. ...But he did have a dog in his childhood photos, soooooooooo. Guess someone else gave it to him, then. (Or there is no show bible. Or this is an awful, no good, no-hate-if-you-like-it-but-I-don't universe.)

WE'RE STILL ON THE MAGGIE COIN NECKLACE??? What other answer for it is there except it was the date Charlie walked out of her life???? Ugh, forget it. The writers wanted it to be a mystery box. Then Gillian walked away from the series and nothing was resolved, yolo.

Mulder always bears North, Scully says, no matter how hard the wind blows against him. ...Except it didn't-- numerous times in this series, numerous times in this season, in fact. The Revival is, in fact, built on top of him losing his way pre-My Struggle I. So. Strike 1000 for missteps in Writing 101, I suppose.

Big Boss fight with a woman attached to his back. ...Guys, this isn't The X-Files, this is Resident Evil.

Olivia looks ghostly pale on second, then almost normal the second the guy she's attached to is murdered. ...Guys. She's attached to a dead guy. That's gotta be sepsis by the time she's in the hospital, right? Also: if Olivia was in THIS deep in a cult, she would have been devastated, not dazed but delighted, that her sister had killed the guy she was attached to.

CONCLUSION

I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

If I feel in a ranty mood in future, I'll cover the last three Struggle episodes. But until then, my Revival journey has reached its end.

And what are my final thoughts? The same as they were going in. ;))

Thanks for reading¬

Enjoy!