#stream kickback

[saxandviolins77]

Notes:

Since I only have a limited number of options here, I'm choosing the main 4 'cons, and for the teams, I am choosing the one most likely to succeed (based on their bios and cartoon appearances, like I am not putting Mr.Breakdown in front of a camera and expecting this to be fair.) Of course, it is all subjective.

Since these are all varied characters, I am letting this be very ambiguous about the content of said streams. Maybe most of them would be just chatting streams or commentary/drama; some of these would do reacts, some would play games, and some would talk about their specializations. That being said, I am imagining them doing what they would be best at and feel more comfortable doing.

When I say successful I am thinking SUCCESSFUL, I'm talking sponsors; I'm talking a dedicated fanbase and I'm talking merchandise with their ugly mugs on it. Not some niche micro-celebrity.

[jangillman]

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[thebiscuitlabryinth]

[prev]

The final act is coming, any day now.

Shadow Milk has been burning with a latent anticipation ever since Pure Vanilla had first resonated with the Soul Jam again. The sheer strike of giddiness he had felt in that precious moment, when he felt that distantly nostalgic power reach weakly for Pure Vanilla, is possibly unmatched.

That anticipation has only worsened as the weeks drag on, simmering in his dough like a stewing pot. Standing indefinitely on the brink of this grand finale, so close to getting everything he wants, leaves Shadow Milk noticeably restless. He pretends it is adrenaline from the ever-increasing waves of Wafflebot attacks, and assists Pure Vanilla with the almost constant stream of patients as if he isn’t eagerly puzzling out plans for what to do next, once the Soul Jam manifests in full.

Shadow Milk feels it, when Dark Enchantress Cookie is released from the Moonstone. He feels it as the kickback of Dark Moon Magic stirs the stagnant nothing of his other-realm and ripples through him like a courteous reminder. He straightens up at the sensation, all of his eyes immediately darting over to Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla feels it too. He must, because it is his own spell that is breaking and, whether he remembers it or not, it is still connected to him energetically. Shadow Milk watches him stiffen, sitting at the perfect angle to see the confusion that pinches his mouth as he briefly shudders through the magical kickback. He is also sitting at the perfect angle, out of direct eyeshot of the few patients in the tent, to allow himself an indulgent, hungry smile.

Yes, the final act is coming, any second now.

Sure enough, it is only a few hours later that a loud commotion kicks up outside the healer’s tent, an argument of clashing voices rather than the usual sounds of Wafflebot attack. The noise disturbs the patients, which in turn makes Pure Vanilla agitated, though he is obviously doing his best to ignore it.

“What are they talking about outside to cause such a racket?” Pure Vanilla murmurs in coiling frustration as he heals a particularly nasty looking head wound. “The patients need as much peace and quiet as possible.”

Shadow Milk takes that as his cue, haphazardly finishing the bandaging he was in the middle of doing and ignoring the patient’s wince when he tightens it a little too tight. Instead, he turns to Pure Vanilla and asks breezily, “Want me to go tell them to shut up?”

Pure Vanilla coughs out a little laugh, a smile peeking through his stress as his shoulders loosen slightly. “Maybe not quite that bluntly but yes, if you could.”

Shadow Milk makes a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, hopping to his feet and brushing dust off of his patchwork costume. As always, he leaves some of his eyes in Pure Vanilla’s shadow, keeping especially close watch for any meaningful Soul Jam development as he sweeps out into the daylight.

Good timing too, because a band of scraggly little Cookies come screeching right to the front of the tent, barely skidding to a frantic stop when he abruptly pops out and blocks their way in. The tent flap quietly slides closed behind him.

“Can you all kindly shut up out here?” Shadow Milk shouts, projecting his voice over the buzzing of the insects and placing his hands sternly on his hips. “There are some poor, injured patients who are in desperate need of actual rest, and they can’t get that with all this yelling!”

“You–!” Black Raisin starts with the sharp glare she always greets him with, but she cuts herself off as she casts a glance back to the healer’s tent. Clearly, she must have registered his words and realised Pure Vanilla sent him out, because she lowers her voice to something quieter, though no less barbed. “Look, just tell Healer that I’m taking care of some outlanders that breached the village and stay out of it. I don’t have time to deal with you right now.”

Shadow Milk turns back to the group of newcomers, evaluating them for a moment. They really are a ramshackle group of itty-bitty Cookies, most of them barely out of the oven and hopelessly stupid from a first glance. He snorts in mock disbelief. “These guys managed to breach the village?”

“Not just that, they managed to defeat some of the Wafflebots!” One of the other villagers interjects, sounding slightly out of breath. They must have been chasing these teensy Cookies.

Shadow Milk doesn’t consider that a very impressive feat at all, and it does nothing to change his opinion on the overall insignificance of these Cookies. Still, he pretends to consider it, idly glancing back at Black Raisin. She narrows her eyes at him, jerking her chin slightly as if to shoo him back into the healer’s tent, and Shadow Milk grins slowly back.

“Daaarling!” He calls, which is a new nickname, but one that is worth it, if only for the way it makes Black Raisin’s eye twitch. “It looks like we have some little outlander guests.”

From his non-physical eyes, Shadow Milk sees Pure Vanilla pause for a moment in pleasant surprise as he stems a patient’s leaking jam. “Guests? Oh, let them come in, I want to hear from them. They’re not hurt, are they?”

“Not at all!” The playking chirps as Shadow Milk turns to open the tent flap again, waving his little sceptre around in childish boast. “My faithful servants are strong. Even if they weren’t, I, Custard Cookie III, would ensure their safety, as any good king should!”

Shadow Milk notices how Pure Vanilla softens the moment he hears how young the voice is. He tsks under his breath, unsurprised, as Pure Vanilla replies playfully, “A king? My, what an honour has graced our humble village.”

“No, Healer, you don’t understand.” Black Raisin insists, a frazzled exasperation in her voice. She pushes past Shadow Milk none too gently to enter the healer’s tent and talk to Pure Vanilla herself. “These outlanders breached the village. They cannot be trusted!”

Pure Vanilla sighs heavily. “Black Raisin, I have told you countless times before that it does you no good to completely close your heart to every stranger you encounter.”

As the two bicker in hushed tones, Shadow Milk takes the opportunity to turn back to their guests and hold open the tent flap for them, gesturing inside. “Come on. Don’t worry about her, she’s always acting rashly like that. I’ve been here for months and she still doesn’t trust me.”

Because Shadow Milk has been provoking her, but they don’t need to know that.

“Well, if that’s true, we have no absolutely no hope of gaining her trust.” The amateur wizard grumbles dejectedly into his scarf. “I just hope she doesn’t decide to start chasing us around again. It’s starting to get exhausting.”

“Hey, don’t say that! It’s like she said, we’ve just got to prove that we can be trustworthy.” The boy with the candy cane chimes, aggravatingly optimistic as they duck under Shadow Milk’s arm into the tent, one by one. He follows closely behind them, his anticipation pacing between his ribs.

It can’t be a coincidence that they appeared so shortly after Dark Enchantress’ release. Though even Shadow Milk can’t precisely predict what will unfold, he knows that their arrival acts as a catalyst.

The tent is cramped, now packed with patients and guests alike. Black Raisin must have been reluctantly pacified by Pure Vanilla, as she always is, because she stands to the side and does nothing to stop their guests from settling down, aside from giving them a wary glance. Shadow Milk largely ignores her, making a beeline towards his spot by Pure Vanilla’s side and plopping down as Pure Vanilla warmly greets the newcomers.

The patients are mostly settled for now, which would allow Shadow Milk to focus entirely on the budding conversation, if he cared about it. He doesn’t though, uninterested with the introductions and pleasantries and exposition for the most part. Time feels like it is crawling incredibly slow, impatience humming through his dough as he sits through their chatter, waiting for something interesting to happen.

“What is the Vanilla Kingdom?” Pure Vanilla asks, sincerely curious, and Shadow Milk bites down on the laugh that threatens to escape him, tilting his head back to glance at the slanting ceiling. Still, the turn in conversation gives him a shot of clarity, and he realises exactly how this will all play out. Or, at least, he knows exactly how he will make it play out, if it doesn’t flow that way naturally.

The final act has come, and Pure Vanilla has to confront the Truth of his past.

The guests drone on and on about how amazing the Vanilla Kingdom is, until Pure Vanilla suddenly gasps. He turns towards Shadow Milk, hand patting around to finally squeeze his knee. “Wait- could they be talking about the castle in the sky?”

The peanut gallery makes some shocked exclamations at that, but Shadow Milk hums smoothly, setting his hand over Pure Vanilla’s hand as his eagerness peeks through his words. “It must be! That’s the only other thing around here for miles, and I promise you, it definitely looks like a kingdom.”

“Wait, wait, you haven’t explained what this castle in the sky thing is yet, and we haven’t seen anything like that. There’s no way it’s real!” The thief scoffs, crossing her arms.

“Well, I haven’t seen it either,” Pure Vanilla says, a hint of laughter lacing his own joke as his hand absentmindedly slips out from under Shadow Milk’s, “but I know it must exist. That’s where all the Wafflebots come from, with every coming of the crimson moon.”

“The Wafflebots?” The playking yelps, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, that can’t possibly be the Vanilla Kingdom then. They would never attack other Cookies!”

As if to prove him wrong, it is then that a metallic shriek rattles through the air, the warning cry of another wave of Wafflebots. In the ensuing panic, Black Raisin rushes out of the healer’s tent with their guests hot on her heels, probably eager to help and prove their trustworthiness, as they said. That leaves Shadow Milk with Pure Vanilla, as always, with a few resting patients blending into the background.

“This attack sounds even louder than before.” Pure Vanilla frowns, head upturned towards the approaching buzz. He’s right – it sounds like an absolute swarm. Shadow Milk’s fingers twitch with restlessness, taking it as a sign, an omen. “Do you think the Wafflebots managed to get past the defences to us?”

Shadow Milk has, thus far, done his absolute best to steer Pure Vanilla away from the Wafflebots’ path. He needs to keep Pure Vanilla alive to have any hope of recovering the Soul Jam, after all. It has never been too hard anyway, since the patients that Pure Vanilla needs to tend to are always piling up as a good distraction from silly thoughts of rushing out like a hero. Now, though, Shadow Milk thinks it is time for a risk.

He swears he can hear the faint ringing of the Soul Jam, cloaked in the hum of encroaching machinery. His twitching fingers squeeze into fists, itching, itching, itching, before relaxing again.

“I don’t know.” He declares, getting to his feet and grabbing Pure Vanilla’s staff. He holds it out to him, tapping it against Pure Vanilla’s side. “Let’s go check. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Good idea. We should make sure the tent is still safe and secure before more patients arrive.” Pure Vanilla nods, taking his staff, steadying it against the ground and pulling himself to his feet.

Outside, the noise is deafening, almost as bad as the very first time the Wafflebots descended. Shadow Milk watches with a rising satisfaction as their harsh silhouettes draw ever closer, closing in on the healer’s tent through a dense thicket of fog. That’s good. That means he can pull off his experiment. Or rather, his challenge.

“They sound close.” Pure Vanilla mutters fretfully, the smallest questioning tilt at the end of his sentence. He wants confirmation.

“They are really close. And there are so many of them too.” Shadow Milk injects an artificial waver into his voice, stepping closer to Pure Vanilla to the point of hedging into his personal space, a protective move masquerading as a fearful one. A failsafe, in case this challenge doesn’t pan out, because he still needs Pure Vanilla alive to get the Soul Jam. “How are there so many of them? What- what should we do?”

His voice cracks on that question, just enough to make it sound vulnerable, and that is all that matters. Plain Yogurt goes along with Pure Vanilla’s requests or polite orders often enough, but he doesn’t tend to ask for them. No, Plain Yogurt is more prone to figuring it out himself or offering help his own way, if not taking the lead entirely.

But Pure Vanilla has to face his past, and that includes the crushing weight of being a leader in a crisis. Shadow Milk knows Pure Vanilla has never heard him panicked like this before, and that works in his favour, because it makes it all the more impactful now.

Predictably, Pure Vanilla’s protective instinct kicks in and he throws his arm out in front of Shadow Milk, craning his head up with his mouth set in a grave line, like he’s trying to track the Wafflebots. Shadow Milk wonders if, for once, his bandages feel like a hindrance rather than a help.

The amusement he might feel at that thought is swept away as Pure Vanilla finally replies, a nervousness tinting his words that is unbefitting of a so-called hero. “I-I don't know, I’m sorry. Oh, if only Black Raisin were here, she would surely know-!”

Irritation flares through Shadow Milk, because that is the wrong line. It makes Pure Vanilla sound pathetic, and while he generally has no problems with Pure Vanilla appearing pathetic, this is one of the only instances where he needs his stupid heroics. The Soul Jam probably won’t reveal itself without them.

“Stop that!” Shadow Milk snaps, slightly too harsh for being Plain Yogurt. He tries to play it off as a spike of nerves, barely managing to round the edges of his tone as he continues. “Not only are you just as capable as Black Raisin, you are more capable than her with that power of yours. Just focus on what you can do.”

“I don’t know if that's quite right, but… it is true that there is no time for weakness now.” Pure Vanilla exhales, then takes another deep breath as the tension in his frame sluggishly eases into something more steady, tightening his grip on his staff. He shifts his feet, falling into that noble stance like it is the most natural thing in the world, squaring his shoulders. “No matter what, I will stand my ground!”

There you are, Shadow Milk thinks, pleased with the echo of the past as it begins to creep up on Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla’s spark of resolve is encouraged by the voice of the resting patients within the tent, who seem to be huddling around the tent flap as they cheer, “We- we believe in you, Healer!”

“Yeah, you can do it!”

Shadow Milk lays a light hand on Pure Vanilla’s shoulder, spurring him on with a whispered, “I trust you. Whatever you plan to do, just go for it.”

Pure Vanilla seems to stand even taller at that, and Shadow Milk’s smile stretches wider as he feels the air ripple weakly with an enticingly familiar energy, his chest practically aching as it–

“Don’t forget about us either!” Comes a determined young voice, as their gaggle of guests run over, appearing from behind some of the other tents. The boy with the candy cane acts as their naive leader, charging forward as he waves. “You don’t have to do everything yourself. We can fight!”

“Ah- and we’ll do our very best too.” The shy girl pipes up as the group stumbles to a stop by the healer’s tent, clustering around Pure Vanilla like a flock of sheep pretending to be wolves.

“Children?” Pure Vanilla murmurs, clearly surprised by their return, as he slips from that noble posturing, his shoulders dipping slightly, not relaxing but loosened with a lifting of a load. That pulsing energy stalls and stagnates in midair. Shadow Milk swallows a scowl, his eye twitching, briefly worried that their guests’ support will make Pure Vanilla more complacent.

But, of course, Shadow Milk should have known better. Pure Vanilla has always fought best with someone else on the line, just as he has always fought best at someone else’s side. His momentary surprise is displaced by a smile that cuts through the warning wails of the circling Wafflebots.

“Thank you, all of you, for your support.” The stagnant energy begins to move, faster and faster, swirling around him in a steady current as Pure Vanilla turns his head to the sound of the Wafflebots, lifting his chin to meet them directly. His expression settles into a serious determination as he resumes his grand, unshakeable posture, planting his feet. “I won’t let it be in vain. I will protect everyone!”

And with that final, firm declaration, he lifts his staff skyward as the current of power overflows.

The Wafflebots freeze in place, shimmering with a diluted golden sheen like they are encased in honey. Their guests and the patients alike begin chattering and cheering in awe, but it blurs into insignificance in Shadow Milk’s ears. He’s too focused on the flow of magical energy in the air, thick with true power, tugging at his core in ancient familiarity.

Since he is tracking it so closely, he feels it collect in front of Pure Vanilla a few split seconds before it manifests physically, crystallising into a rough, raw blue gemstone. His eyes fixate on its meek glow, pulsating in time with Pure Vanilla’s steady breathing.

And, coincidentally, in time with Shadow Milk’s breathing too.

It’s not fully manifested yet. It’s not the polished, perfect form of the Soul Jam, it hasn’t properly reconnected with Pure Vanilla, but it has a secure enough connection to draw some of itself out of its shattered hiding. And it certainly is the lost half of Shadow Milk’s Soul Jam, there is no doubt about that. He can feel it like his own pulse.

In a trance, Shadow Milk leans around Pure Vanilla, inadvertently pressing into his side as he reaches out towards that frozen drop of his own power. He shudders as his fingers draw close to it, feeling the energy of the Soul Jam curl around his outstretched fingers in coy greeting.

“Wait.” Pure Vanilla is, naturally, the second one to notice this new presence, turning away from the idle conversation he was having with their guests to turn towards the light. Whether it was the tug of the Soul Jam or Shadow Milk’s movement or a combination of the two that clued him in doesn’t matter. “There’s something… what is that?”

“A gemstone,” Shadow Milk describes in a tone toeing the edge of reverence, not skipping a beat, the explanation already ready on his tongue, “that glows like a star.”

Shadow Milk wants to take it, he wants to take it so bad, it is a yearning that eats through his insides like a parasite, but he forces himself to hold back. As it currently is, the Soul Jam is still incomplete and halfhearted, so there really isn’t any benefit to reclaiming it now. Besides, the scene isn’t right. It would be so anticlimactic to take it away now, in the middle of this dingy village, and he thinks he and Pure Vanilla both deserve a little more fanfare than that.

Instead, he reaches for Pure Vanilla’s free hand, guiding it up so it is enveloped by the cool aura spilling off the Soul Jam. “It thrums with power like a star too.” Shadow Milk adds, closer to a whisper. “Do you feel it?”

Pure Vanilla seems to be mystified, his mouth slightly agape, but he recovers quickly enough, his lips moving to reply.

“Did you say gemstone?!” The thief shouts eagerly, tearing through the fragile haze between the two of them, as she lunges towards the gem in question. “Hey, lemme see that!”

Clearly, the Soul Jam doesn’t agree. It slips out from the range of their hands, zipping silently through the air to collide with the crux of Pure Vanilla’s staff, melting seamlessly into the bandages for safekeeping. The thief groans in disappointment, and Shadow Milk sends her a covert glare, deadly as a cloaked dagger. He doesn’t appreciate her unwanted intervention, and he appreciates her sloppy attempt to swipe the Soul Jam even less.

And yet, alongside his irritation, there’s a flicker of vindication. The Soul Jam had only retreated to Pure Vanilla’s staff when the thief tried to approach, after all. It had no negative reaction to Shadow Milk’s close proximity. Of course it didn’t – it is his, first and foremost.

Pure Vanilla pulls his hand back, clearly focused on his staff as the lingering glow fades into the dim, boring light of day. “You…” He murmurs gently to his staff, to the fragmented Soul Jam, almost in awe. “You’re the thing that has been resonating with my staff recently.”

“What was that?” That amateur wizard asks, trying and failing to hide his own childish amazement. “I know plenty about magic, obviously, but I’ve never seen something like that happen before!"

“I’m not sure. But..." Pure Vanilla perks up as he whips around to face Shadow Milk. He reaches out for him and Shadow Milk obliges, setting his arm in Pure Vanilla’s grip so he can squeeze his elbow. “...This must be the good thing you thought was going to happen, isn’t it? These new friends, this strange power and this adventure towards a great kingdom? This is by far the most exciting thing that has happened in weeks!”

The smile Pure Vanilla gives him is bright, practically glowing like the Soul Jam had, just a few moments ago. That yearning yawns hungrily within him, demanding attention. Shadow Milk wants to take it, him, everything so badly it burns.

He wants to swallow him whole.

But he needs to be patient. He’s been waiting for this long, he can wait just a little longer. It would be no fun otherwise.

So he smiles back with a crescent of teeth that Pure Vanilla cannot see and says, “Yeah, I think it must be. In that case, wherever we go from here must lead to amazing things, right?”

It is a hope, a promise, a fact, a threat. The one thing it is not, ironically, is a lie.

Wherever this little expedition to the Vanilla Kingdom leads, the destination will be something amazing, as defined by Shadow Milk. He will make sure of it.

It’s only fair. After all this time, they both deserve a perfect finale to this little farce. Right?

Pure Vanilla hums in agreement, letting go of him as he turns his attention to whatever silly little rallying speech the outspoken children are giving, and Shadow Milk’s unseen smile twists smugly.

[next]

[revelboo]

Following you has been an insane experience of "Oh revelboo is writing for the bugs, let me take a look... Curiousity cannot possibly kill the cat this time" to "HOW DID REVELBOO MAKE ME LIKE THE BUGS????"

Seriously though, the way you write Waspinator, the insecticons, and especially ES Tarantulas has been scratching my brain in such a good way😭😭

🤣 Give in to the bug husbands

18+ Mass displaced mechs 🌶️

You (Don’t) Know Me Pt 10

Insecticons x Reader

• Overwhelmed by all three of them, their emotions and memories sink into you until you know them all as well as you know yourself, tangled in their sparks so firmly, you can’t really separate yourself from them. From the familiarity of them. From feeling like you’re home. And when it’s too much, when you try to flee them, they chase after you. Relentless in their demands that you surrender to them. Streaming like a fiery comet through this shared space, you’re aware of them right behind you. Catching you, tangling themselves more firmly in you, coaxing. Aware of your physical body caught between the three of them, of Bombshell between your thighs, hips thrusting, your head thrown back against Kickback and the scrape of Shrapnel’s sharp denta against your shoulder.

• Getting closer to what he needs every time he catches you, Bombshell can feel your resolve weakening. And they’re not stopping until they wear you down. Until you submit to them. Claim them as yours. Need a full bond to spark you. Need a full bond to truly crown you as their queen. Spike pumping inside you as you writhe under him, your soft hands cling to him. Your body knowing what it wants, but the rest of you is still defying him. Slipping between him and Shrapnel to arrow away.

• Intercepting you when you break from the other two again, Kickback wraps himself around your light, tasting you. Everything that you are spilling into him a little more with every brush with you. And he wants it all. Needs it. Coaxing you as you tiredly try to break free, wavering and uncertain. Bombshell and Shrapnel joining him, letting their need spill into you. Always sneered at, treated like monsters by other Cybertronians unless their skills are needed. You won’t forsake them, though. They need a home. A queen. You.

• So close. Adding to Kickback’s overtures with his own, Shrapnel wraps himself about you and Kickback both. You’d be safe. Protected and treasured as their queen. Loved. A soft, little mate to reach willingly for them when they return to the hive. Who wants them. They’ll guard and care for you and you’ll help them create a new hive. A future. Just submit to them. Be their queen.

• Exhausted as Bombshell joins them and you’re trapped between all three of them again, you’re aware of your body coiling and so close to release. Of them all asking for the same thing. For you to be theirs. And would it be so bad? To play queen for them, be adored and worshipped by the three of them. Safe from their hunger. There’s more, something just there that you can’t get ahold of. A thought they’re jealously guarding. Arching as you come apart, that coaxing becomes everything, pulling at you in demand and you give in to it. Accept them as yours and the coaxing shifts, becoming a question you don’t understand. Feel Bombshell’s urgent thrusts falter, hear him snarl as he fills you, hips snapping against you. That need sharpening until you submit to that question, accepting it, too even though you don’t understand it.

• Clawed servos digging into Kickback to make him chirp in pain, Bombshell hisses. Struggling against the urge to sink his denta into you as you milk his spike and he’s overloading again, aware of Kickback squirming under you with a guttural noise of need. Of Shrapnel rutting against your thigh. Reluctantly pulling back, breaking the connection between his spark and you. Uncertain if it worked, if he succeeded in sparking you. But they’ll just keep trying. And Shrapnel and Kickback are hiding away their sparks, freeing you to make you gasp. Venting raggedly when you tremble under him, he slips free of you and your eyes open to stare up at him when he stands. So small and helpless, but now you’re everything. His queen. Not what he’d expected at all, but for better or worse, you’re theirs. And Shrapnel is moving to take his place, spike sinking into you, hips pumping.

Previous

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[madeofthreads]

@somnus-lucis-caelum | X

The cave was marked as highly dangerous. Only a single diver was cleared to explore the area at a time, but the highly valuable ore was worth a sum that would see each and every one of them on the mission to retirement 5 times over.

Wildlife within wider pockets of the caverns had been noted as aggressive and territorial. There were vents that bubbled so gently they could be overlooked, and sometimes those same vents expelled enough violently heated air to melt even an excavation suit. Then there were the magma pockets that seemed determined to remain anything but contained.

Not only was it a hazardous network itself to navigate, but it was littered with debris from previously failed missions at best, and the unrecovered remains of fellow divers at worst.

Leander hadn't accepted the mission there lightly. With the latest mapping technology, he could receive critical information in real time, and he wasn't much for bragging but he excelled at keeping his dive times trim — he didn't linger, he didn't get caught up in the sights, the sounds, or his own fears. He thought that would have been enough to see him through a successful run.

It almost was, too.

Though there had been little more warning than the thermal activity in the area spiking sporadically. He had already been on his way out by the time he realised, which was when the earthquake struck. His excavation suit suffered a critical malfunction when a crack in one of the walls gave way to a stream from one of the thermal vents, effectively knocking out his main power supply.

Leander was trapped in the dark, in a violently active cavern, without access to any external oxygen tanks to even see him partially out of the cave system, let alone the long ascent...

"Unfortunately, I survived." he announced through the crackling communication system. The back-up power inside his hulking excavation suit was already on the clock. He had 20 minutes of power left, if he were lucky. Then he would be in dark and silence until the last of his oxygen ran out, and he had a suspicion at least one of the tanks had been damaged. At least he wouldn't have to contemplate his own death for endless hours...

"I'm not going anywhere. This suit is all but fried, and I don't have the equipment to make it far. Sorry, team, you're going to have to keep working towards retirement..." He could hear the fury in Somnus, who already started arguing with the team lead.

"Somnus. I love you. I have loved you for most of my life, and I'm sorry that I won't live to see the rest of that life growing old with you. Everything that is mine, is yours. Hear that? I, Leander Georgiou, leave all of my possessions to Somnus Lucis Caelum."

The kickback from Somnus was immediate. It brought a smile to his face, as he blinked a steady flow of tear drops out of his eyes. "Mater, Pater, I love you. I'm sorry I won't make it home this time." Shit. There it was, that tell tale shake in his voice. He was supposed to be big and strong and brave.

"Ariadne and Vergil. I'm so sad I won't get to watch you grow up. I wanted to be there for everything. The ups. The downs. The moments of insanity. I know both of you will thrive in whatever you choose to do, I'm so... so proud of you..." he shuddered, and the message caught his altered breathing. He was falling to pieces.

Though not so much he didn't catch the sudden urgency spilling in from the team lead. Cautioning Somnus... no, forbidding him from coming to the cave system.

It was enough to choke some air back into his lungs. "H-hey!" he weakly barked. "This is an active zone, the quaking hasn't stopped... Som, your kids need you... they need their father, don't throw your life away." he pleaded on deaf ears.

Somnus was stubborn. Dangerously so.

The line of communication dropped, and Leander laid in the deep and the dark. Though the feeling of walls closing in on him had only worsened with the knowledge that his lover was attempting a rescue. Hopefully someone had talked sense into him... hopefully, he would be safe...

Eyes closed, sweating like a sinner, air thinning, Leander's thoughts turned to his life before. None of the little things mattered at this end. All he thought about were moments of love and life. He... didn't have any regrets, not here, not now. At least he would pass in peace, right...?

Then came a light. For a brief moment he thought it was the light. The one that people spoke of in the end... but then something thumped and thudded his excavation suit, and no sooner had he opened his eyes, water was flooding in as something — no, someone — accessed the pilot cockpit.

He damn near gulped salty water in surprise. Though just as quickly, as mask was secured to his fat head and he was pulled from his dying suit. And.. he could breathe. He could breathe enough to fill his lungs, and he could see... Somnus..?

Eyes widened, he shouted something that wasn't heard. His answer? Being strapped to the other diver like some naughty toddler. But damn it all, he couldn't unstrap himself even if he wanted to.

It was like a fever dream, being along for that long ride. Navigating a cave system that had every right to claim them and add to its numbers. He dared to have a little hope when they started to ascend. His arms wrapped around Somnus' in a deep hug when they paused and he felt the other heavily lean against him. Little wonder. He was pushing himself to his limits, his body was doing twice the work now that he had his 'cargo'.

Though that little hope gave way to fear when he started to clue in to Somnus' condition. He was slipping, slowly. Like a fading light. He did what he could to help, but it didn't feel like enough. Not when Somnus continued down that slippery slope.

It should have been relief to surface again. He should have thanked every God and sung every praise, and yet all he could focus on was his lover. His hands were a little rough as he removed the mask, quickly followed by his own. "You idiot." he breathed hard. "You fucking idiot!"

Leander cradled his cheek. Briefly rested their heads together, a grounding moment, however brief. "Don't you dare pass out on me now. Somnus!" The last words he probably heard were a string of colourful swears.

When Somnus came to again, he was laid in a warm, dry bed, and his personal bed had become more like a med bay surrounded by monitors that chirped and updated his current vitals. Leander sat with both his hands held onto one of his lovers, holding his palm and over the back in a loving little sandwich.

His head lifted when he caught slight movement. His serious look broke, giving way to excitement and relief and concern all at once. "How are you feeling?"

[noemitenshi]

Biblical

A Troy Otto x OC Story

Summary: Troy encounters the stranges thing during his exile - a kid that isn't just completely defenseless against the walkers - they don't even seem to know what they are.

Or maybe it's not a kid at all.

Chapter 1 - A strange thing indeed

Troy hadn’t been sleeping. He couldn’t, couldn’t stop now, couldn’t rest now. Now that he’d started to herd the infected. They were stupid little fuckers, needed constant stimuli or they’d disperse again. He’d learned that the hard way, had cost him half a day of work. So now the only thing he was focusing on was this; leading the horde. Growing the horde.

He just had to keep walking, keep leading. No thirst, no hunger, no tiredness stopping him now. Because once the horde got big enough, there would be no stopping them. Oh, it was going to be… biblical.

And again he put the weapon stock against his shoulder, took a moment to enjoy that feeling, his finger on the trigger, the comfortable weight of the weapon in his hands before he pulled the trigger, the sound, the kickback, all of it traveling through his body in that indescribable way. Weirdly enough, those were the only seconds of true peace he now knew.

When he opened his eyes again, something in his periphery caught them and he stopped dead in his tracks. Stopped completely confounded because he thought he might’ve misinterpreted what he was seeing. But no, farther away, not yet part of the horde (but soon, soon!) there was a small group of infected – and right in the middle of it sat someone. As Troy turned to get a better look, he could tell that it was very much not an infected. It was someone terrified by the looks of it. Huddled on the ground, hands on ears, and, Troy couldn’t be sure of course, but he wouldn’t be surprised to know that the eyes were closed.

What idiot didn’t fight back against the infected?! They’d get torn to pieces like that!

Just then Troy had the horrifying realization – the insurmountable fear – that this could well be a child. A child, all alone out here!

The second he’d thought that his body was already moving, running towards the child – he had to be careful though as he was moving partly through the horde – had to make sure not to make too much noise, had to cut down infected right in front of him. And he wasn’t even feeling a pang of regret as he did, as he saw them falling, part of his work destroyed.

No, suddenly the only thing that mattered was reaching that child in that group of infected. The child who was mumbling terrified things, voice coming out almost inaudible and gasping. The child’s eyes were almost hidden by dark locks, but Troy could still tell they were closed just as he’d had predicted and tears were streaming down those dark cheeks.

As he came closer, he started to doubt that it was a child, after all. Though it was incredible hard to tell how old the kid was. Not a small child, as he’d feared at first, that much was clear. But whether the kid was fifteen or twenty-five, Troy could not say. And somehow he had the sudden, deep-seated sense that neither was right.

No matter, he wasn’t about to let the kid – helpless, confused, terrified as he was – she was? (Troy couldn’t tell the gender either) – be torn apart right in front of him. The kid wasn’t in any condition to fight, wasn’t even running. And even though Troy might’ve argued that getting eaten in this situation was just evolution at play, seeing it, being right there in front of it, he could not just stand by and watch it happen to someone that defenseless, that scared.

Snarling at himself he started cutting down the infected one by one, making quick work of them.

He expected the kid to calm down, to realize that they weren’t alone anymore, weren’t in danger anymore but they were still in the same position, still gasping fearful sounds even as Troy stuck his knife into the last infected’s head.

As the infected fell, Troy just stood there, undecided. The obligation he felt towards the kid not in the least bit abated but – shit, what could he even offer them!? He couldn’t take care of himself right now, how was he supposed to make sure the kid was alright?!

But leaving them here would guarantee their death.

And try as he might to tell himself this wasn’t his responsibility, he could not make himself leave. In the face of such need, he could not leave. Could not get back to herding the infected again, not when he knew the kid would be torn limb from limb without his protection. It was only a matter of time. They would not survive out here. That much was clear. Not even the day, Troy wagered.

The kid that was still sitting there on the ground, trembling, silent tears streaming down their cheeks, arms clasped tightly around themselves.

Troy’s heart gave a pang he wasn’t comfortable examining closer (that pose being something all too familiar) and so he walked closer to the kid, crouched down in front oh them, whispering a quiet

“Hey.”

The kid was still mumbling in that fearful tone – and Troy could only make out a few things that didn’t make much sense to him.

“...so cold… can’t see, why… it’s too – much… I can’t, I can’t… I… don’t understand…”

Troy carefully put a hand on the kid’s shoulder, trying to get their attention, another soft “hey” accompanying his action. The kid flinched and shivered, as if trying to shake Troy off – but their eyes opened, two deep-brown frightened things and they jumped around.

“It’s ok,” Troy said slowly, feeling completely out of his depth, “They’re gone now, they can’t hurt you anymore—you’re not, are you?”

He’d be stupid not to ask though he grimaced, imagining what he’d had to do if the kid said ‘yes’. But the kid just continued to look frantically around.

“Hey, did you hear me?” Troy asked, sharper now.

“I don’t… don’t feel good… Everything’s so…” The kid broke off with a violent shudder.

“You’re sitting in infected guts,” Troy said without much empathy, “You should get out of there.”

For a moment nothing happened. Then the kid tried to stand – struggled to stand. It worried Troy instantaneously.

“Hey, you sure you aren’t hurt? Did they get you?”

“...n-no.” The kid shook their head and stood finally – still wobbly on his their legs. Even now Troy couldn’t tell their age nor gender. The kid was shorter than himself, the clothes on their back ill-fitting. Too big. It made the kid look even more lost – and so young. Or was it the fact that they weren’t moving from the spot. As if they had trouble holding their balance. Troy’s brows furrowed just as he thought that and he turned around to leave. But before he’d fully turned he stopped and threw an impatient,

“You coming or what?” over his shoulder.

“Coming… where?”

Troy shrugged with just his face before he answered,

“Away from here.” Then his lips curved into that half-snarl, half-smile he did whenever he was scoffing at himself and he added, “To safety.” Safety. The ranch used to be safety. The ranch he was exiled from. But still the kid took a wobbly step towards him, convinced it seemed, and Troy turned back to fully face him as he said,

“I’m Troy.”

The kid stopped walking (or trying to walk – at least that was what it looked like to Troy) and Troy felt something shift, something in the air maybe or… he couldn’t quite place it. But it felt quite profound. And then the kid was looking directly at him. Staring at him, those brown eyes focused in a way they hadn’t been before, no fear remaining.

Normally, Troy had no problem with people staring at him. In most cases he actually provoked it himself just so he could revel in it but... this stare, the way the kid was looking at him, that was different to anything he had ever experienced.

It was the most penetrating stare he’d ever seen; he felt almost like the kid was looking deep into him, into his soul, leaving no secret unturned and it made him feel utterly uncomfortable.

Just as suddenly, the stare vanished and the kid told him with strangely kind smile,

“Yes you are.”

What??

Troy had to shake his head, absolutely flummoxed by that reply. What did that even mean – yes you are? How would the kid even know if he was or wasn’t Troy??

“N-no…” he said slowly, at a loss of how to reply to that, “I meant… who are you?”

“I’m angel!” the kid said with a suddenly enthusiastic smile.

Angel. Troy almost laughed at the absurdity of that whole interaction, did very much not listen to that little voice in his head that whispered that the kid being just that would explain a lot of their behavior. He’d been out here too long, had been without sleep too long if he was thinking things like that.

“Come on, Angel,” he said with a head-tilt.

“What do you plan on doing now?” Angel asked and Troy didn’t even notice what a strange question this was to ask of someone they’d just met, didn’t realize how the truth just spilled out of him – no walls, no filters.

“I…” he shrugged a little, “normally I’d take you home. It’s safe there but – I can’t return home.”

“…me neither,” Angel said and Troy felt an eerie bitterness at that.

“Well, we can’t stay here. It’s dangerous with all these infected around.”

“Infected?”

The question startled Troy. Sure, not everyone used the same terms but not knowing at all what he was referring to – that was even stranger than him admitting to his exile so readily. And this time he did notice.

“Those things that attacked you.”

At once he saw the fear returning to Angel’s face.

“They… what are they?” Angel asked in a scared whisper. Much too scared for someone living in the apocalypse, Troy thought. Ah, but maybe they’d been sheltered, same way most of his people – well, not his anymore, he supposed – had been.

“They were human,” Troy explained curtly, “When we die… we now turn into those. No idea why. For some it’s fast, for some slow. But we all turn, in the end.”

“Human?!” Angel exclaimed, horrified. So it was completely news to them. How strange, again.

“Yeah. Let’s go before they turn you, too!” Troy urged with head-tilt towards the approaching horde – which had already shrunk some. He didn’t waste another thought on that though, instead grabbed Angel by the arm and pulled them along, up, up the hill. Only when they reached the top did he stop, sure that Angel needed a break.

“We can rest some here,” he announced, “The infected should disperse soon.” And should any of them make it up here, he could take care of them. He sat down and Angel right next to him, again looking at him with that strangely piercing gaze that felt like Troy could not hide a single thing. He swallowed and suppressed the urge to turn away.

“You need sleep, Troy,” Angel said decisively.

“Huh?” Again Troy was perplexed by the things Angel said, not that it was wrong. But still a strange thing for Angel to notice, he thought.

“Sleep,” Angel said with the sweetest voice and Troy did just that, falling asleep right where he sat.

[onboardsorasora]

massaging or sitting in the others lap!

Sorry I took forever with this Anonstie, I wanted to do both but couldn't think of the right scenario. But we got there and I hope you like it!!

They were in the wilderness, awake early and posted up on the hunting stand in the middle of a clearing right before sunrise. Daniel was so tired, he blearily noted the majestic rising of the sun behind the mountain range to their right? Left? It didn’t matter

It was early, ass crack o'clock to be exact and Max looked too bright eyed and bushy tailed for someone who had gotten even less sleep than Daniel himself received.

They had arrived last night at the house– it was a little more than a cabin but just not as rustic. It had been in the family for years now and had been updated when Max and Victoria were kids. Daniel was always thankful for the indoor plumbing and recent addition of wifi. Max's dad, Jos, had prepped the place for them, knowing that Max would make the pilgrimage into the wilds for his birthday no matter what. It was tradition he would say.

Max had told him many times about how much fun it had been growing up and the weekend trips they would take up the mountain since his birthday was in the peak of bird hunting season. And of course, Victoria continued the tradition with Lio and Luka. 

Daniel…well he didn’t hate hunting, but he thought it was a lot of effort when they could wake up later in the same cabin and go hiking to a spot in the hills at a more reasonable time.

The first flight of birds leaving their nests for food had already passed, Max had had a stellar shoot, they would have a fine lunch. Maybe dinner. Then he passed the shotgun to Daniel and (once again) taught him how to hold it and aim. 

They did this every year, and every year as soon as they went back home, Daniel forgot how to shoot. Not only was it just not his sport, he simply looked forward to the massage he got from Max afterwards. So he liked his boyfriend’s hands on him, sue him.

While Vic took the boys down to the nearby stream, Max sat on a wooden bench and pulled Daniel to sit on his lap. Daniel leaned into him, clutching Max’s arms that wrapped around his camo clad belly.

“Fine shootn’ today Maxy Max.” Daniel tried to use a Texan accent when they went hunting. It started as a joke and the boys absolutely loved it.

Max smiled a crinkly faced smile, he also got a kick out of it. “Of course, I have been shooting since I was Luka’s age.” 

“A fine cowboy you’d make.”

Max snorted, “always, you are silly Daniel. But yes, I can provide for my family out in the wilderness.” Max rolled his eyes obnoxiously.

“Well you know what they say, save a horse…” Daniel grinned and turned so he was sitting across Max’s legs. He threw his arms around Max’s shoulders, wincing slightly as he did, he truly never got used to the kickback of the old shotgun Max used.

“Are you sore?” Max sprung into action, pressing his thumbs softly into the tender tissue much to Daniel’s relief. “You didn’t cup it close enough, you always forget I think.” Max murmured, his focus honed in on making sure Daniel was ok.

“I’ll cup you close enough.” Daniel teased in reply, grinning at Max’s snort.

“You are doing it on purpose, maybe. Of course you don’t have to hurt yourself to get a massage, Love, I’ll gladly give you one when we get home.”

Daniel kissed Max’s forehead, brushing his hair back with his nose. “I’ll hold you to it since you insist on using that ancient thing.”

He laughed loudly at Max’s squawk of outrage, pleased when his boyfriend launched into the very familiar– and yearly– ‘rant’ about how his gun wasn’t old and he didn’t need to buy a new one and if Daniel would just listen and practice the kick wouldn’t hurt him.

Traditions indeed.

[darkmaga-returns]

If you wondered since 2016 how come the blob and the Democratic Party were aligned so exquisitely in their operations to destroy populism (personified by Mr. Trump) and to permanently entrench single party power in America for all time to come, it’s because an endless font of taxpayer money was streamed into countless non-governmental orgs creating a shadow civil service of Democratic Party activists that melded seamlessly with the big policy-making agencies.

The money was laundered through manifold layers of these orgs and their sub-orgs to pay for an ongoing “color revolution” in the USA — lawfare, election fraud, propaganda, censorship, career cancellation, medical fuckery, open borders, and other totalitarian ploys — while enriching political players at all those manifold layers from multi-millionaire congressmen and senators to thousands of NGO officials making six-figure salaries to street hustlers like Patrisse Cullors of Black Lives Matter and “anti-racism” racist Ibram X. Kendi and his $50-million Center for Antiracist Research at Boston University (recently axed) — and, of course, ultimately the former Potemkin president “Joe Biden” and his family.

It was all this money that drove eight years of sponsored insanity. Mainly, it kept the hands of the Democratic Party firmly on the levers of power so that nothing could be done about the insults and injuries they were inflicting on our country. So, is it a mystery now that nobody was prosecuted for burning the cities in 2020, or for magically creating millions of extra “Joe Biden” votes out of nowhere that year, or setting up the kickback machine from Ukraine to Congress, or forcing millions to get a janky vaccine?

[vomitdodger]

11 Sep 2023. Comrade Blinken announces the FORTY EIGTH aid package for Ukraine.

Pure corruption. Payoffs to hide all the Biden evidence. Kickbacks for comrade Zelensky. Money laundering to benefit them all.

Meanwhile…good luck Maui and that $700 one time payment. While the death toll is STILL at 115 despite thousands initially missing. Now the missing is supposedly down to 66. These numbers do not make sense. How could thousands be missing for weeks and weeks and suddenly it’s a mere 66…per officials. And without social media you don’t know what really going on. Trying to internet search these aspects you get nothing but algorithmic mockingbird main stream media. None of this makes sense.

[itsachillesbtch]

Octavian Lore part 2 ! (childhood - 3rd year)

again, tw for crucio abuse !

Since befriending Somerild (@sunglow-fae), Ephias thought it would be best for Octavian to spend more time with the Lovells. Brother Sister bond commences...

They are shipped off to Hogwarts together, sorted into Hufflepuff together, and really, all of first year Tavi hung to Somer like a leach. He was, of course, socializing with others!

He tried out for Quidditch first year and, shockingly, was put on the team as a beater. What better way to release pent-up rage, hm? This is how he meets Kyle (@cynosure404 ), a Gryffindor :] He wasn't exactly fond of him persay, but Kyle was funny and seemed to have the same friends he did.

Octavian joined the dueling club as another way to get out his frustration. He hadn't really put much thought into it when he used Crucio for the first time. If anything, the kickback of it made him feel gentle shocks, soothing the pain in his arms and shoulders from Quidditch practices.

He casted Crucio more frequently in his duels, something to make the other person(s) fear the way he held himself. Something that would scare them into surrender. He didn't mean to hit anyone with it.

Other than that, the first year wasn't all too bad for him. And of course, he returned to the Lovell's again for the first month of their summer break, and then back to his own home in Wales.

The second year came, and it was far more exciting than he'd expected it to be. Daniel finally introduced the group to his mystery friend, and shockingly, Tavi remembered him from their shared transfiguration course. Aslan (@ix-astra ), he said his name was.

Another two he casted Crucio on. He still didn't understand why they reacted the way they did. It wasn't that bad. He knew it wasn't. The burning metal he tasted on his tongue was they only bad part about it that he could remember.

They formed their own little group, a total of 6, 14 if they included the others (the Pit), but it was The Six. He mever had this sort of thing before. Nobody ever really approached him.

Rumors finally started settling in. Rumors that You Know Who was back in the form of a 12 year old boy. Octav knew who his grandparents were. He was reminded of them every time he had to step into Comet Manor. But he never expected it to follow him here. Follow him to the place where he didn't have to be the Dark Lord's blood.

Of course, when the dada teacher brought in a snake for class one day, Tavi could talk to it. He wasn't very good at Parseltongue, but he could understand everything the snake said. The teacher never brought in another snake.

Summer between the second and third. Delphi got angry too often now, ranging from small bits of malice to large fits of rage that ended up usually with Atliar patching Ephias up with a few potions. When Delphi got bored of Ephias, she turned to Octavian.

This is how Tavi ended up on the Lovell doorstep at 4 am, a large gash from the tip of his shoulder down to his elbow from his apparation backfiring, soaked from the rain. He'd never forget how quickly they took him in.

The third year came, and nothing really exciting happened that he would even care about. The bullying started weakly, and he brushed it off. Nothing truly remarkable happened until a few days before they went on summer break.

Quidditch had their last practice. Him and Fischer waited on the pitch for Kyle and Colby to finish their duel, and Tavi had the greatest idea and offered Fischer a run for his money. The rest of the Pit waited in the stands for them to get their last bouts of energy out, but was caught off guard by the long stream of green shooting from Tavi's wand, and Fischer screaming out, four times.

[blubberquark]

Blog Meta vs Tumblr Meta

When I started this tumblr, I wanted to post about game development and game design. I followed other game developers, and I posted about game design, WiP screenshots and art assets, and links to finished games. Later I started an aesthetic sideblog (reblub.tumblr.com), and posted some programming tutorials to this tumblr. Programming is not really something that interests followers who want to know when I have released a new game, or who want to reblog WiP pixel art. Then I stopped worrying and broadened the range of topics on this main blog to opinions on computer literacy, teaching programming, and contributing open source. It's my blog and you can't stop me. I might post some cooking recipes. Maybe it even helps promote my games.

If I wanted to go all-out on promoting my games, I would post a lot more visually interesting WiP stuff, and game design ideas that are directly related to games I am promoting, broken down so players who don't design their own games understand them. I would have to manually cross-post everything on mastodon, twitter, instagram, tiktok, and so on.

If I wanted to go all-out about programming tutorials, I should probably host them somewhere else. The NPF tumblr post editor does not do code blocks, or maths. I could make a series of hyperlinked pages and host them on my own domain, or I could record some screencasts and sell a course, but not on tumblr.

I don't want to do either of those anyway. I want to keep this tumblr relatively noise-free, I don't want to be my own full time social media manager posting gifs every day, and I don't want to sell webinars or online courses. I just want to keep making games, occasionally.

When tumblr enabled ads on blogs, and not just on the dashboard, I noted the lack of kickbacks for blog posters.

When Posts+ was announced, I thought about posting more gamedev tutorials. There is probably a small audience out there who would want to learn GameDev from me, but they might not be enough people to make it financially viable, and they are probably not willing and able to pay me enough. The people who are on tumblr already don't want to buy gamedev tutorial content, and when they do, they don't want to do so on tumblr.

With every new tumblr feature, I noted that it doesn't really help me write one or two posts a month. It doesn't help me publish or monetise the kind of content I want to write. The tip jar is more compatible with the way content spreads through tumblr than posts+, but it's not what I need.

The only way I can monetise a gamedev tumblr is by posting viral gifs of my game, and directing them to other platforms:

getting people to wishlist the game on Steam

promoting my itch.io page

promoting a Patreon

promoting a podcast

promoting a KickStarter

selling branded t-shirts

funnelling them into my Discord

There is no good way to monetise devlog content, game development tutorials, or long-form blog posts on tumblr.

This feels mildly concerning, but maybe it's okay. I know that many game developers started a Patreon for their podcast, a YouTube channel, a twitch stream, or a TikTok, only for that to become a larger source of revenue than their game sales. As they work on their next title, and try to drum up hype for Steam wish lists, cross-promote other games, appear on podcasts, the sales from their last game dwindle, and the revenue from YouTube ads and twitch donations grows. They are basically professional YouTubers at that point, or professional programming coaches, but without the actual game in the end, it doesn't work.

On the other hand, tumblr can still monetise me. I could decide to blaze some pretty screenshots, some .gifs, and gain followers and wishlists.

I don't know where this leaves artists on tumblr though. Tumblr is full of pixel artists who take commissions. Tumblr is full of old school oil on canvas artists. Their interests aren't aligned with the platform. Tumblr doesn't earn anything when they do commissions, and the artists don't earn anything when ads are shown on the dash next to their reblogged original content.

With all this in mind, tumblr live makes some sense.

In the mean time, I'll have a look at cohost, and I might re-work some of my drafts that require elaborate formatting into a longer-lived web site. And maybe I'll write some games!

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

Don't Care. Ban Minors.

Now that I've posted that hot take let me express WHY I'm talking about it.

Let me first start with the fact I'm aware that not all the people I'll be talking about are minors. But certainly they are involved and tend to be swept up in these trends and are often far more aggressively violent than people whom are older. Always? No. Maybe not even mostly. But it's the trend that it IS the case. (More Below)

So JoCat, responsible for this gem right here:

Is trending on Twitter because he's effectively been bullied off the internet. And according to him not only has he been doxed and harassed. But his FAMILY have been getting strange packages in the mail supposedly without labels on them other than the "To" address.

And he more or less recently stated:

Now I DO feel bad for him. I'm not going to say I don't. Because I do honestly think that this isn't ok.

However, having said that, during the Hogwarts Legacy harassment campaign, this is what he said:

Normally, I'd respond with, "Well you dug your grave, now lie in it" but not in this case. Because I still feel bad for his family in all of this. However, in modern day western culture, in no way is "Trans people are in danger" an honest statement. Does violence against trans people happen? Yes. However in a lot of cases worked by people who are NOT anti trans, the often land on the conclusion that the violence against them is NOT because they are trans.

Which funnily annoying thing about social politics. People will conflate things to make their narrative look better. If two people get into a spat in a relationship, and violence occurs, and the person effected happens to be trans, that becomes a stat of, "Violence against a trans person". But the issue isn't that there was violence here. (Well I mean it is AN issue but it's not THE issue I'm speaking about). No, the issue is that this is the same as when hospitals were getting kickbacks during Covid. And every case of death with Covid was more or less a promise of a payout from the taxpayers. Why do I bring this up?

Because Death WITH Covid and Death FROM Covid were never the same. And yet there were people died in car wrecks who HAPPENED to have Covid. And the reports would read, Motorcyclist dies from Covid, and then any article written would go, "Died from Covid. *Bottom of the article* Was in a recent motorcycle wreck and rushed to hospital where they died"

You see the issue there? Same with violence against trans people or anyone for that matter. Often it does not happen BECAUSE of who they are, it happens because of personal conflict between two people.

*This completely ignoring the middle east Olympic sport of competitive gay toss* (Yeah it's not a laughing matter but it's basically the truth)

My point is, Banning Minors from social media would help mitigate this issue a lot. And I believe that it would very much curb most of the harassment online as well as the doxing by a lot. It would also remove a lot of the nuclear takes from other forms of social media and Corporations can stop letting minors steer the conversation for what they think is a "good idea".

But this is also a good way for me to talk about the bigger issue of harassment online. Aside from who all is partaking in it. Criticism is more than ok when you think someone does something wrong. But what happened during the Hogwarts Legacy fiasco was NOT ok. "Oh we are just criticizing people for playing the game and endangering trans lives by telling people to kill themselves......,and then bringing many many many other people to these streams and posts in order to dogpile on more and more and more and more and more."

And let me express what the difference is between dogpiling and bulk responses. Dogpiling is organized and coordinated. Often directly and purposefully orchestrated by someone. Bulk criticism is when you find out about something, or opt to look into a matter and decide that you want to share your thoughts on it. A lot of "Drama" channels which are more channels that cover less important news about pop culture and current events, tend to fall under the area of bulk criticism. Reason being, most of these media creators don't WANT people harassed. They just want people to be informed. Which isn't wrong. And you can say that "It invites dogpiling" but if the tell you that's not what they want, and they go out of their way to say, "I don't view you as a member of my community if I see you doing this" I'm going to take them at their word for the most part.

However, in the case of Hogwarts Legacy *abbreviated HL from now on*, these attacks were coordinated and planned. There were websites active online to help target people playing the game. This was organized. And the "reason" it was "OMG DANGER TO TRANS FOLX" was because why? It was an IP created by JK Rowling. The woman has money hand over fist. Any money she spends on anything is mostly a drop in the bucket for her. And she can easily just keep spending if she really wanted to.

However, her most egregious comments were that what? Biological women are biological women? And that she doesn't like the idea of mid 20 early 30 something males decimating women in sports? WOW THE HORROR. *Sarcasm*. But the game was not even made by her. And it HAD trans people in it last I heard. ALSO had one of the single most "Inclusive" character creators in almost any game at all.

BUT NO, we have to bankrupt the studio that would DARE try to make money off of a successful IP, harass and dox them. Make it so no other companies hire them. Because THEY WANTED TO MAKE A FUCKING VIDEO GAME! ABOUT MAGICAL FUCKING PEOPLE! And what's more, I don't see any of you boycotting Amazon or Microsoft. You know, who's heads are Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos. People who've probably donated to a NUMBER of things that have harmed others. Like idk. The UN, who's had scandal after scandal for bartering with poor nations to trade sex for work. Sometimes from kids. Or donating money to China who is currently ACTIVELY genociding the Uighurs, those people you supposedly care about. Oh sorry wait no you don't. You only pretend to care about Palestine because you think all Jews look white and you're anti-Semitic and believe in propaganda and stereotypes.

OH YEAH funny I bring that up. Because another claim against HL was that the game was Anti Semitic. Guess you can start buying it now huh. -_-

And this post pains me to make. Like it actually makes my head hurt. Because not only do we need to ban minors from social media. We also need to make sure that there is consequences for harassment, doxing etc. And since the advent of the internet, we've been getting further and further away from people actually being shamed or otherwise for doing evil shit like this.

Hell, take the movie Mean Girls. The entire movie is supposed to be a lesson in humility. You won't always be top dog, so maybe while you are, "On top", you don't fist fuck everyone else. Because one day the shoe might be on the other foot, and you might be the one being fist fucked. Like this scene so elegantly shows:

The full clip:

I feel like the internet is full of High schoolers that never grew the fuck up. Because be it games, anime, movies, comics, tv THIS. This is what I always see. Now while this movie is a teen flick and is partly exaggerated, there are a lot of consistencies in the movie with actual high school life for a number of people.

Certainly my girl had a mean girl clique. And they were the popular girls in school. Guys would humiliate other guys in front of them to try to impress them or make them laugh. Honestly I was one such person. It didn't work well for the guy that did it, but that's beside the point.

What I see online is this movie personified and magnified by 100. It's not just, "You can't sit with us" for these people. It's "YOU CAN'T SIT ANYWHERE! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE! HOW DARE YOU LIKE THAT CHRACTER FROM THE SHOW I HATE! I HOPE YOU LOW TEIR GOD!" *if you don't get that reference look it up*.

We've done fucked up as a society and I don't see it being walked back any time soon until we bring back the emotion of shame. Because a shameless society is a shit society.

[rubydreamsuwu]

I did something with kickback.

I'm thinking she's this gamer that randomly drops the strangest stories and details about herself on stream

I'm really proud of the headphones and hoodie combo honestly. Plus the emphasis on the legs because Grasshopper

Unfortunately she blends in with her chair

[centaurianthropology]

On Trying Things that Make You Nervous

I think there’s a real benefit in gaining life experience, choosing to do something you wouldn’t normally do, and learning from it. I’m not particularly into guns. My job has me seeing the end result of A LOT of gun violence (my area in particular is hot for it). I know what guns do to bodies.

I don’t have a lot of first-hand experience with guns, however. My work sponsored an educational two-day session in which we could all learn from firearm and tool-mark experts at the local crime lab. Day one was lecture. Day two was the range.

I got to watch various demonstrations with live fire, in a controlled environment, by experts. They showed us what various distance shots looked like under different conditions. They showed us a professional suppressor, a pillow suppressor, and a potato suppressor (it really is just a potato on the end of a gun). They showed us various types of guns, and even lit a shirt on-fire from the fire out of a black powder revolver.

After that it was our turn. They had selected a number of guns for us to shoot. I went in thinking I would fire a handgun, and maybe something larger if I was feeling spicy.

I ended up firing a .22 pistol, a 9 mm pistol, a Walther PPK, and then graduated to a 357 magnum revolver (the most kick of any of the guns that day), an MP5 (most common submachine gun in use), an M16 assault rifle, and a WWII M3 submachine gun. And you know what? It was fun. Would I do it again? Probably not, but I am genuinely glad I did it. There is something about a tactile experience that cannot be rivalled by mere intellectual understanding. And there is something about overcoming something that made me nervous. I was worried I would do it wrong. These things are deadly and dangerous, and I was worried I would hurt myself or someone else. I was worried about the recoil, about the noise, about doing something dumb and dislocating my shoulder.

Instead, I learned a lot. I learned how it feels to fire guns. I learned that a revolver has more kickback than a pistol because the barrel is above the plane of your hand, but that I preferred the revolver because it required you to manually pull the hammer back before it was dangerous again, and once I learned to control the kick, it was sort of fun. I learned that, despite being fairly weak, I could fire all the guns without trouble so long as my stance was good (and gun stance is so different, that took me a bit, but the instructors were great). I learned that with proper ear protection, the sound is fine, but you still feel the reverberation in your chest, particularly of large shotguns. I learned that handguns are, by and large, sort of a pain in the ass with a lot of fiddly bits and sticky springs (the 9 mm was the most comfortable and user friendly one, and even that was rather annoying). I learned that, weirdly, assault rifles are easier to use, more user friendly, and frankly more fun to shoot than handguns. I was only going to fire the M16 on semi-auto (one bullet per pull of the trigger) initially, but after I fired it and realized that it, as a heavy gun, had less kick than a handgun, I was willing to load up a clip and fire full-auto. And my instructor was right: you do feel weirdly awesome after having fired full auto. It’s 100% an adrenaline response, but I got the thrill that gun enthusiasts are into.

The M3 was my favorite, though. It was old, made entirely of metal. There was no wood, no plastic. It weighed a ton. It had no semi-auto mode. This was purely automatic. It also had no safety. Once it was loaded and a round was chambered, it would fire as soon as I pulled the trigger.

Modern assault rifles and submachine guns shoot VERY fast. It’s essentially a stream of bullets with no real time to grasp what you’re doing beyond that you are firing A LOT. The M3 was slower, a steady rhythm of fire that had just enough time between shots to steady and continue firing. It was FUN to shoot.

And that was what surprised me the most. I enjoyed it a lot. I had a great time. No, I’m not going to drop a ton of money on a gun, and I still very strongly believe in regulations and better oversight on who can own guns and even what sort. Because we do that for cars, which can also be deadly weapons. We can at least do that much for guns.

But at the same time, by actually putting myself out there, I do understand an enthusiast’s passion a little more. I get why people enjoy shooting for sport or going target shooting. I get why some people collect them, or are fascinated by the mechanics and the deeply dumb appeals to machismo that gun and ammo manufacturers are constantly trying to use to draw people in.

This is obviously not for everyone, but I think the broader lesson is: we can get too into our bubbles and our comforts. Sometimes breaking out of them, trying something intimidating or new or even a little scary can open your eyes to either a new hobby or interest of your own, or at least to a deeper understanding of those who are into that hobby or interest. And conquering small fears can feel fucking amazing. Firing that assault rifle was one of the more intimidating things I’ve done in a while, and then I realized that I had been scared of nothing. It was fine. So long as I was responsible, safe, and kept a good stance and grip, it didn’t hurt, and it was even surprisingly fun.

So get out there. Maybe don’t fire assault rifles or whatever, but try something that you’ve been intimidated by. And hopefully you’ll find either new fun or at least a better understanding.

[fiftytwotwentythree]

Wellness Wednesday:

Blah...

Blah - that's how my week was and that's how I feel.

It's been a relatively chill week, but lack of sleep, muscle soreness in my neck, a change at work, and general hangriness has been tipping my scales slightly towards the negative.

Truly it wasn't a bad week - I had some PTO, ate some good pasta (a lot of pasta), did some fun reading, saw some family, played games, watched some great "television"... but something just feels off.

I've had muscle soreness before and the sleep thing been a thing for a while... but I feel out of sorts... I feel like I need to get out of my house and shake it up a bit, but do what, I don't know. See a movie? Play a game...?

I keep coming back to needing/wanting sleep.

Sleep... and Barbecue. I wanted burger and hotdog off the grill.

In other news I am on the hunt for movies and shows to stream. Received a few suggestions this week. Always looking for more.

.

.

28th CHECK-IN:

Current Goals:

Lose 52 lbs

Completed as of 4/12/2023

New Goal: Maintain or Continue on The Weight Loss Path

Avoid "Junk Food"

Minimize Take-Out / Fast Food Consumption

Short Term:

Vegetarian-ish Diet: Completed

End Date: 4/09/2023 - 46 Days Total

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.

Meal Tracker:

THURSDAY

Lunch:

(8) Pieces of Leftover Rana's Chicken and Roasted Garlic Ravioli with Prego Roasted Garlic Alfredo Sauce

- Green Beans

- Black Pepper

- Crushed Red Pepper

(3) Scoops of Cottage Cheese

Snack:

(2) Bowls of Valley Top Popcorn

Supper:

(6) Pieces of Leftover Rana's Chicken and Roasted Garlic Ravioli with Prego Roasted Garlic Alfredo Sauce

(1) Grilled Cheese Burger on a Hawaiian Bun

- Ketchup

(2) Small Oranges

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

FRIDAY

Lunch:

Bowl of Baked 5 Cheese Pasta with Honey BBQ Chicken

- Callentani Pasta

- Classico 4 Cheese Alfredo Sauce

- Ragu Double Cheddar Sauce

- Parmesan Cheese

- (3) Pieces of Jimmy Soules Honey BBQ Chicken

(1) Small Orange

Snack:

Large Bowl of Valley Top Popcorn

Supper:

Leftover Bowl of Baked 5 Cheese Pasta with Honey BBQ Chicken

- (2) Pieces of Jimmy Soules Honey BBQ Chicken

Corn Beef and Swiss on a Toasted Everything Bagel

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

SATURDAY

Lunch:

Leftover Bowl of Baked 5 Cheese Pasta with Honey BBQ Chicken

- (3) Pieces of Jimmy Soules Honey BBQ Chicken

(2) Small Oranges

Snack:

(2) Bowls of Valley Top Popcorn

Supper:

Leftover Bowl of Baked 5 Cheese Pasta

- (2) BBQ Hotdogs

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

SUNDAY

Lunch:

Spinach Dijon Salad

(2) Scoops of Broccoli Cheddar Pasta Salad

Snack:

(4) Bowls of Smartfood's White Cheddar Popcorn

Supper:

Chef Salad

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

(2) Small Oranges

MONDAY

Lunch:

Asian Style Salad

- Mandarin Oranges

Snack:

(2) Handfuls of Good & Gather's Tex Mex Trail Mix

Supper:

Chef Salad

(1) Small Orange

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

TUESDAY

Lunch:

Bowl of Mexican Style Street Corn Salad

Snack:

(2) Handfuls of Good & Gather's Tex Mex Trail Mix

Small Bowl of Valley Top Popcorn

Supper:

Bowl of Leftover Mexican Style Street Corn Salad

(2) Small Oranges

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

WEDNESDAY

Lunch:

StarKist Deli Style Tuna with Pepperjack Cheese on a Croissant

StarKist Sweet Chili Style Tuna with Pepperjack Cheese on a Croissant

(2) Scoops of Broccoli Cheddar Pasta Salad

Snack:

(2) Handfuls of Good & Gather's Tex Mex Trail Mix

(2) Large Bowl of Valley Top Popcorn

Supper:

Annie Chun's Teriyaki Noodle Bowl

- Cashews

(2) Small Oranges

(1) Glass of Milk

.

.

Workouts:

THURSDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

FRIDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

(5 min) Planks [5 Sets of 1 min]

SATURDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

SUNDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

(5 min) Planks [5 Sets of 1 min]

MONDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

TUESDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [5 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 set of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

(5 min) Planks [5 Sets of 1 min]

WEDNESDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges[4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 Sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

.

.

WEIGHT TRACKER:

Starting Weight (Noon, 1/01/2023): XXX.X lbs

Weight at Last Check-In, 7/05/2023: -1.0 lbs

Weight As of Noon, 7/12/2023: -1.0 lbs

Total Weight Loss: -78.2 lbs

.

.

Closing Thoughts:

The Good:

Um.... Lost a Pound?

The Bad:

My neck is killing me - sore, tight, stiff...

Sad to report... I got Hangry on Sunday. It was like a full on Snickers Bar commercial.

The Ugly:

You guessed it... Ya Dude Needs Da Sleepa

[thedailydirt]

The Geopolitical Engineering of the Energy Cartel

The global energy sector operates as a shadowy cartel where state actors, corporations, and intelligence networks collude to manipulate markets, suppress competition, and weaponize resources. From OPEC+’s production cuts to covert deals brokered by intelligence-linked oligarchs, this report exposes how energy dominance is engineered through a mix of overt diplomacy and clandestine operations. Key players—including Vladimir Putin, Saudi Aramco, Chevron, and Israeli energy tycoons like Yitzhak Tshuva—leverage fossil fuels to exert geopolitical control, while greenwashing initiatives mask continued exploitation. The Nord Stream sabotage, OPEC’s price-fixing, and Israel’s Eastern Mediterranean gas empire reveal a world where energy is less a commodity than a cudgel of power.

Key Global Influencers: Puppeteers of the Energy Matrix

Vladimir Putin (Russia)

Gazprom’s Geopolitical Weapon: Russia’s state-owned energy giant has long been a tool for destabilizing Europe. The Nord Stream pipeline explosions (2022) remain shrouded in intrigue, with evidence suggesting Western intelligence complicity to sever EU-Russia ties.

Shadow Deals: Putin’s backchannel agreements with Hungary’s Orbán and Serbia’s Vučić to bypass EU sanctions via the TurkStream pipeline.

Prince Abdulaziz bin Salman (Saudi Arabia)

OPEC+ Manipulation: Orchestrated 2023 production cuts to artificially inflate oil prices, destabilizing Western economies.

Aramco’s Dark Money: Saudi Aramco funds think tanks (e.g., Atlantic Council) to lobby against renewable transitions.

Amin Nasser (Saudi Aramco)

Climate Obstructionism: Publicly advocates for “carbon capture” while privately bankrolling anti-climate legislation in the U.S. via Koch Industries networks.

Patrick Pouyanné (TotalEnergies)

African Exploitation: Total’s Mozambique LNG project displaced 550,000 locals while funneling profits to corrupt officials.

Covert Ops in Yemen: Partnered with UAE-backed mercenaries to secure oil fields amid civil war.

Daniel Yergin (Energy Expert)

The Prize Revisited: Yergin’s consultancy, S&P Global, whitewashes fossil fuel lobbies while advising the Biden administration on “energy security.” ** Israeli Energy Moguls: The Eastern Mediterranean Cartel**

Yitzhak Tshuva (Delek Group)

Leviathan Gas Field: Delek’s control over Israel’s largest gas reserve enabled predatory deals with Egypt and Jordan, locking neighbors into dependency.

CIA Backchannel: Delek’s partnership with Noble Energy (now Chevron) was brokered via Jared Kushner during Abraham Accords negotiations.

Idan Ofer (Eastern Pacific Shipping)

Ghost Fleet for Sanctions Evasion: Ofer’s tankers transport Venezuelan and Iranian oil under false flags, aided by Greek oligarchs and Maltese shell companies.

Cyprus Offshore Gambit: Financed gas exploration in disputed Cypriot waters, escalating tensions with Turkey.

Tarek El Molla (Egypt’s Petroleum Minister)

Pipeline Politics: Facilitated Israel’s gas exports to Egypt via the EMG pipeline, while skimming $300 million in kickbacks.

Corporate Titans: The Energy-Industrial Complex

ExxonMobil (Darren Woods)

Iraqi Oil Fields: Exxon’s Qurna Field operations rely on Kurdish Peshmerga militias for security, exacerbating Baghdad-Erbil tensions.

Chevron (Noble Energy Acquisition)

Eastern Med Monopoly: Chevron’s control over Israeli and Cypriot gas reserves aligns with U.S. Sixth Fleet operations to counter Russian/Turkish influence.

Mercenary Partnerships: Subcontracted Erinys International (PMC) to guard assets in Kurdistan.

Gazprom (Alexey Miller)

Hybrid Warfare: Gazprom’s “Debt Diplomacy” in Moldova and Bosnia forces political concessions in exchange for gas subsidies.

Spy Hub: Gazprom offices in Europe double as recruitment fronts for SVR (Russian Foreign Intelligence).

Covert Alliances and Skullduggery

The Nord Stream Enigma

False Flag: While Russia blames the U.S., leaked BND reports suggest Ukrainian special forces planted explosives with CIA logistical support.

Economic Warfare: Post-sabotage, U.S. LNG exports to Europe surged, benefiting Cheniere Energy (BlackRock-backed).

OPEC+ Price-Fixing

Shadow Meetings: UAE’s Al Jaber (ADNOC CEO) negotiated 2023 production cuts during COP28, undermining climate pledges.

U.S. Complicity: Biden’s muted response to OPEC+ cuts linked to KSA’s $2 billion investment in Jared Kushner’s Affinity Partners.

Israel’s Gas Empire

Maritime Border Deal: Brokered by Amos Hochstein (Biden envoy), the Israel-Lebanon agreement funnels gas revenues to Hezbollah-linked contractors to “buy calm.”

Cyprus Intelligence Hub: Mossad’s Unit 8200 monitors Turkish drillships from Cypriot bases leased by Delek.

Greenwashing and Climate Finance Farces

COP28 Theater

Al Jaber’s Double Role: As ADNOC CEO and COP28 president, Al Jaber approved $100 billion in oil expansions while touting “carbon neutrality.”

Fossil Fuel Lobbyists: 2,456 oil/gas delegates attended COP28, outnumbering climate activists 3:1.

The Hydrogen Hoax

Saudi “Green Hydrogen”: NEOM’s $5 billion project relies on desalination plants that devastate Red Sea ecosystems.

Chevron’s “Renewables”: Invests in hydrogen hubs while lobbying to delay EPA emissions rules.

BlackRock’s Climate Betrayal

Larry Fink’s Shell Game: BlackRock’s ESG funds pour billions into Aramco and Gazprom via offshore shells in the Cayman Islands. "Shadow monopoly." "Shadow government."

Policy Recommendations

Sanction OPEC+ as a Cartel: Invoke the Sherman Antitrust Act to break OPEC’s price-fixing stranglehold.

Forensic Audits of Climate Funds: Subpoena the Green Climate Fund for evidence of fossil fuel subsidies masked as “renewable investments.”

PMC Regulation: Ban Erinys, Academi, and Triple Canopy from energy projects in conflict zones.

Declassify Energy-Intel Ties: Congressional hearings on CIA’s role in Nord Stream sabotage and Eastern Med gas deals.

Global Magnitsky Sanctions: Target Yitzhak Tshuva, Idan Ofer, and Al Jaber for human rights abuses linked to energy projects.

Israeli Involvement in Global Energy Manipulation

Israeli Cyber-Industrial Complex and Energy Espionage

Unit 8200’s Role: Israel’s elite signals intelligence unit, Unit 8200, has been instrumental in cyber-espionage targeting energy infrastructure. Alumni from this unit have founded or work for private cybersecurity firms like NSO Group, Cellebrite, and Verint Systems, which provide surveillance tools to energy companies and governments.

NSO Group: Known for its Pegasus spyware, NSO has been implicated in hacking energy sector executives and activists. In 2021, NSO’s tools were used to target Chevron executives in a bid to gain insider information on oil pricing strategies.

Cellebrite: Specializes in mobile device data extraction, often used by energy firms to monitor employees and competitors. Cellebrite’s tools were deployed by Gazprom to spy on Ukrainian energy officials during the Nord Stream negotiations.

Israeli Mercenaries and Energy Security

Global CST: Founded by ex-Israeli general Israel Ziv, Global CST provides private military services to energy firms. In Libya, Global CST trained Khalifa Haftar’s forces to secure oil fields for TotalEnergies, while in Mozambique, they partnered with Dyck Advisory Group to protect LNG projects.

Spear Operations Ltd: Staffed by ex-IDF commandos, Spear Operations trained Azov Battalion in urban warfare tactics, funded by Kolomoisky’s PrivatBank Cyprus.

Israeli Energy Tycoons and Offshore Networks

Yitzhak Tshuva (Delek Group):

Leviathan Gas Field: Delek’s control over Israel’s largest gas reserve enabled predatory deals with Egypt and Jordan, locking neighbors into dependency.

CIA Backchannel: Delek’s partnership with Noble Energy (now Chevron) was brokered via Jared Kushner during Abraham Accords negotiations.

Idan Ofer (Eastern Pacific Shipping):

Ghost Fleet for Sanctions Evasion: Ofer’s tankers transport Venezuelan and Iranian oil under false flags, aided by Greek oligarchs and Maltese shell companies.

Cyprus Offshore Gambit: Financed gas exploration in disputed Cypriot waters, escalating tensions with Turkey.

Israeli Intelligence and Energy Diplomacy

Mossad’s Role: Mossad has been deeply involved in brokering energy deals, particularly in the Eastern Mediterranean.

Maritime Border Deal: Brokered by Amos Hochstein (Biden envoy), the Israel-Lebanon agreement funnels gas revenues to Hezbollah-linked contractors to “buy calm.”

Cyprus Intelligence Hub: Mossad’s Unit 8200 monitors Turkish drillships from Cypriot bases leased by Delek.

Israeli Cybersecurity Firms and Energy Manipulation

Elbit Systems: A major defense contractor involved in cybersecurity and surveillance technologies. Elbit’s Hermes 450 drones were sold via Poland’s WB Group to bypass NATO restrictions and used in strikes on Russian supply lines in Kherson (2022).

Cyberbit: A subsidiary of Elbit Systems, specializing in cybersecurity and threat detection. Cyberbit’s tools were used by Saudi Aramco to monitor internal dissent and secure oil infrastructure.

The New Energy World Order

The energy cartel is not a market—it is a mafia. From Putin’s pipeline brinkmanship to Saudi-Israeli-U.S. collusion in the Eastern Med, the quest for energy dominance fuels conflict and corruption.

They are robbing the people of the world of cheap nuclear, desalination and subsequent hydroelectric collection.

Instead, the Clintons were paid to help steer uranium, steer mining, steer pipeline and steer policy to favor the now record prices and record profits when, technology speaking, the actual cost to produce food, energy and clean water continues to get exponentially cheaper.

Look how you and your people have been robbed. All people. Take a look around.

Engineered rat mazes and behavioral sinks are easier to monetize; the economy of misery and fear. So be miserable. Be afraid. And keep paying those high prices. You aren’t really going to look up long enough from your smart phone to do anything, are you?