#surveillance files (fiction)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Iowa's starvation strategy

I don’t really buy that “the cruelty is the point.” I’m a materialist. Money talks, bullshit walks. When billionaires fund unimaginably cruel policies, I think the cruelty is a tactic, a way to get the turkeys to vote for Christmas. After all, policies that grow the fortune of the 1% at the expense of the rest of us have a natural 99% disapproval rating.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/19/whats-wrong-with-iowa/#replicable-cruelty

So when some monstrous new law or policy comes down the pike, it’s best understood as a way of getting frightened, angry — and often hateful — people to vote for policies that will actively harm them, by claiming that they will harm others — brown and Black people, women, queers, and the “undeserving” poor.

Pro-oligarch policies don’t win democratic support — but policies that inflict harm a ginned-up group of enemies might. Oligarchs need frightened, hateful people to vote for policies that will secure and expand the power of the rich. Cruelty is the tactic. Power is the strategy. The point isn’t cruelty, it’s power:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/25/roe-v-wade-v-abortion/#no-i-in-uterus

But that doesn’t change the fact that the policies are cruel indeed. Take Iowa, whose billionaire-backed far-right legislature is on a tear, a killing spree that includes active collaboration with rapists, through a law that denies abortion care to survivors of rape and forces them to bear and care for their rapists’ babies:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/16/us/politics/iowa-kamala-harris-abortion.html

The forced birth movement is part of the wider far-right tactic of standing up for imaginary children (e.g. “the unborn,” fictional victims of Hollywood pedo cabals), and utterly abandons real children: poor kids who can’t afford school lunches, kids in cages, kids victimized by youth pastors, kids forced into child labor, etc.

So Iowa isn’t just a forced birth state, it’s a state where children are now to be starved, literally. The state legislature has just authorized an $18m project to kick people off of SNAP (aka food stamps). 270,000 people in Iowa rely on SNAP: elderly people, disabled people, and parents who can’t feed their kids.

Writing in the Washington Post, Kyle Swenson profiles some of these Iowans, like an elderly woman who visited Lisa Spitler’s food pantry for help and said that state officials had told her that she was only eligible for $23/month in assistance:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/dc-md-va/2023/04/16/iowa-snap-restrictions-food-stamps/

That’s because Iowa governor KimReynolds signed a bill cutting the additional SNAP aid — federally funded, and free to the state taxpayers of Iowa — that had been made available during the lockdown. Since then, food pantries have been left to paper over the cracks in the system, as Iowans begin to starve.

Before the pandemic, Spitler’s food pantry saw 30 new families a month. Now it’s 100 — and growing. Many of these families have been kicked off of SNAP because they failed to complete useless and confusing paperwork, or did so but missed the short deadlines now imposed by the state. For example, people with permanent disabilities and elderly people who no longer work must continuously file new paperwork confirming that their income hasn’t changed. Their income never changes.

SNAP recipients often work, borrow from relations, and visit food pantries, and still can’t make ends meet, like Amy Cunningham, a 31 year old mother of four in Charlton. She works at a Subway, has tapped her relatives for all they can afford, and relies on her $594/month in SNAP to keep her kids from going hungry. She missed her notice of an annual review and was kicked off the program. Getting kicked off took an instant. Getting reinstated took a starving eternity.

Iowa has a budget surplus of $1.91B. This doesn’t stop ghouls like Iowa House speaker Pat Grassley (a born-rich nepobaby whose grandpa is Senator Chuck Grassley) from claiming that the cuts were a necessity: “[SNAP is] growing within the budget, and are putting pressure on us being able to fund other priorities.”

Grassley’s caucus passed legislation on Jan 30 to kick people off of SNAP if their combined assets, including their work vehicle, total to more than $15,000. SNAP recipients will be subject to invasive means-testing and verification, which will raise the cost of administering SNAP from $2.2m to $18m. Anyone who gets flagged by the system has 10 days to respond or they’ll be kicked off of SNAP.

The state GOP justifies this by claiming that SNAP has an “error rate” of 11.81%. But that “error rate” includes people who were kicked off SNAP erroneously, a circumstance that is much more common than fraud, which is almost nonexistent in SNAP programs. Iowa’s error rate is in line with the national average.

Iowa’s pro-starvation law was authored by a conservative dark-money “think tank” based in Florida: the Opportunity Solutions Project, the lobbying arm of Foundation For Government Accountability, run by Tarren Bragdon, a Maine politician with a knack for getting money from the Koch Network and the DeVos family for projects that punish, humiliate and kill marginalized people. The Iowa bill mirrors provisions passed in Kentucky, Kansas, Wisconsin and elsewhere — and goes beyond them.

The law was wildly unpopular, but it passed anyway. It’s part of the GOP’s push for massive increases in government spending and bureaucracy — but only when those increases go to punishing poor people, policing poor people, jailing poor people, and spying on poor people. It’s truly amazing that the “party of small government” would increase bureaucratic spending to administer SNAP by 800% — and do it with a straight face.

In his essay “The Utopia of Rules,” David Graeber (Rest in Power) described this pathology: just a couple decades ago, the right told us that our biggest threat was Soviet expansion, which would end the “American way of life” and replace it with a dismal world where you spent endless hours filling in pointless forms, endured hunger and substandard housing, and shopped at identical stores that all carried the same goods:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/02/02/david-graebers-the-utopia-of-rules-on-technology-stupidity-and-the-secret-joys-of-bureaucracy/

A society that can’t feed, house and educate its residents is a failed state. America’s inability to do politics without giving corporations a fat and undeserved share is immiserating an ever-larger share of its people. Federally, SNAP is under huge stress, thanks to the “public-private partnership” at the root of a badly needed “digital overhaul” of the program.

Writing for The American Prospect, Luke Goldstein describes how the USDA changed SNAP rules to let people pay with SNAP for groceries ordered online, as a way to deal with the growing problem of food deserts in poor and rural communities:

https://prospect.org/health/2023-04-19-retail-surveils-food-stamp-users/

It’s a good idea — in theory. But it was sabotaged from the start: first, the proposed rule was altered to ban paying for delivery costs with SNAP, meaning that anyone who ordered food online would have to use scarce cash reserves to pay delivery fees. Then, the USDA declined to negotiate discounts on behalf of the 40 million SNAP users. Finally, the SNAP ecommerce rules don’t include any privacy protections, which will be a bonanza for shadowy data-brokers, who’ll mine SNAP recipients’ data to create marketing lists for scammers, predatory lenders, and other bottom-feeder:

https://www.democraticmedia.org/sites/default/files/field/public-files/2020/cdd_snap_report_ff.pdf

The GOP’s best weapon in this war is statistical illiteracy. While racist, sexist and queerphobic policies mean that marginalized people are more likely than white people to be poor, America’s large population of white people — including elderly white people who are the immovable core of the GOP base — means that policies that target poor people inevitably inflict vast harms on the GOP’s most devoted followers.

Getting these turkeys to vote for Christmas is a sound investment for the ultra-rich, who claim a larger share of the American pie every year. The rich may or may not be racist, or sexist, or queerphobic���— some of them surely are — but the reason they pour money into campaigns to stoke divisions among working people isn’t because they get off on hatred. The hatred is a tactic. The cruelty is a tactic. The strategic goal is wealth and power.

Tomorrow (Apr 21), I’m speaking in Chicago at the Stigler Center’s Antitrust and Competition Conference. This weekend (Apr 22/23), I’m at the LA Times Festival of Books.

[Image ID: The Iowa state-house. On the right side of the steps is an engraved drawing of Oliver Twist, holding out his porridge bowl. On the left side is the cook, denying him an extra portion. Peeking out from behind the dome is a business-man in a suit with a dollar-sign-emblazoned money-bag for a head.]

Image: Iqkotze (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Iowa_State_Capitol_April_2010.jpg

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

[narcissarina]

Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun || Chapter 2: The moon ||

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 873

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

CHAPTER 3:

THE MOON

I sat on my chair, legs crossed and seeing Mr. Parfez all beaten up, nose damaged and a severe cut on his legs. As far as I could count, my men stabbed him twenty-eight times on his thigh, used a knife and cut his cheeks—making his smile much wider and disturbing. Blood all over the tiles and how he is pleading for his life. Cigarette in hand, I puff out a smoke and stood up, using the end of my shoe—I lift his chin up.

Holy shit he looks horrible, this would be very horrifying for my girl.

I puff out another smoke and tilt my head to the side, his eyes met mine and I tap an excess cigar on him, he yells in pain and I push my remaining cigar into his eyes as he bleeds out in my hand—he tried to back out, lift my feet up and step on his chest to make him fall back in to the cold tile full of his blood. His screams can be heard in every corner of this fucking torture chamber of a room. I love how it’s also soundproof, no one can hear his cries for help and how much he pleads for mercy.

But I show neither sympathy nor mercy.

This if the price he must pay after making a fool out of myself, after scamming and breaking our contract like that. He fucking deserves it.

After pushing my remaining cigar to his eyes, he neither moves or struggles. He was dead, I killed him and I don’t feel a thing.

I stood up, and oh my fucking god. Blood all over my attire, fuck!

“Clean this up, and if you all fucked up cleaning this corpse, you all will ended up dead like him.” I snapped and they started moving.

Snapping my finger and one of my men came to me, “Report.” I spoke, he has a mullet cut and ash blonde hair, his tone flat as he speaks, he tells me her full name first and I smiled wickedly.

A beautiful name equals to a beautiful lady.

“She just recently graduated college and with her and her friends family support, they put up a café. She also has two siblings, she’s the middle child.” He reported, his tone loud and clear. I gave him a nod as he handed a file to me, I flip and turn pages full of her personal background.

Her birthday, her hobbies, favorite colors, pets, names of family members, her exes, what degree she graduated, who are her enemies, and more. A picture of her when she’s a child captured my attention, my fingers glide to it as if I were caressing a little girl that grown to be a wonderful and carefree woman.

Too bad she wouldn’t be carefree when she discover who I am.

Hacking one of her cameras are too easy, her surveillance in the café and her own home. She lives in a butt-fuck nowhere where forest surrounds her house. In her papers, it said that she has deep love for nature and how the smell of the leaves brings comfort to her.

Naughty girl, doesn’t she know that many people had gone missing because of houses like this? Tortured, raped, harassed, and more. Tsk, tsk, luckily she’ll have my protection every now and then. I don’t want someone lying their hands on my girl, no one.

There she is, lying on her bed with phone in hand—she doesn’t know that I’m watching her. Why did she install a camera in her bedroom? I laugh on how oblivious she is, hackers can easily hack her cameras then they either can sell her or their footage on the dark web.

I see her, in only in her thongs and fitted shirt, she walks around almost naked in her own home—well, she is surrounded by the green trees, no one can see her—she thought she is free exposing herself in just thongs.

My eyes lingers on the screen, I could feel my cock twitch and throb under the fabric of my pants. How it begs to be buried deep in her pussy, how much I want to penetrate her—to fuck her senseless.

Lost in wild thoughts, a voice came into my small earpiece, “Sir?” it called, I turn away from my computer screen, lean back and light up a cigar.

“speak.”

“I have reports on the missing children, and a leaked video.” He spoke, my attention snatched and my body stiffen, “leaked video?” I repeated and he confirms.

“These fuckers are sick in the head, even targeting helpless women aren’t enough.” I curse under my breath, my blood boils knowing that they even target little kids.

Sick wild motherfuckers.

“There is also an update for sir Niro, would you like me to send it to you?” he asked, I sigh and clenched the light up cigarette in my hand. It burns but it didn’t hurt I have my gloves on.

I nod and turn back to my computer screen, I nodded and have my mind relax when I see her lovely face in the screen, checking the surveillance.

I should probably keep my distance… for now.

Link:

Chapter 4: THE SUN

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XII.

GIF by uuuhshiny

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Lives for the memory, a woman who's just in his head (just in his head), and she sleeps in his bed (his bed) while he plays pretend. So pretend. –– She, Harry Styles.

WORD COUNT: ~5.6k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: discussions of religion, murder mention, smut :p, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, car sex, more of that sweet sweet detective!javi, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: not javi relapsing 😭 once a whore always a whore, am i right? hope you guys enjoy this week's chapter <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

The next month crawls by at an agonizingly awkward pace. Each day drags on, and Javier feels like he’s losing his mind more and more. Determined to keep his promise of tailing August and his cohort, he shadows them relentlessly.

He comes to find out that they’re just fucking around more often than not. It doesn’t take long for them to notice his presence. They turn the tables, leading him on a wild goose chase around town, making him feel like a complete idiot. Javier comes to terms with having severely underestimated their cleverness, and now he must compensate for the time he’s wasted.

There are no revelations, not even after his efforts to dig into the lives of the other victims. Javi had hoped that a fresh perspective would uncover something significant, much like his breakthrough in Jessica’s room, but he was quickly proven wrong. He’s back to square one, with no solid leads to follow or sound suspects to look into. The restlessness builds as he waits for the files from Rome to arrive. In the meantime, all he has to hold him over is the diary.

His sleep pattern is a wreck again, not that it ever truly straightened out, but it had become tolerable until his separation from Paloma and the subsequent dead end in the investigation.

She is glued to her new group of friends, and it’s clear this attachment has fueled her recent defiant attitude. Despite the fact that he harshly told her he wasn’t her goddamn babysitter and had stopped following her even before their relationship fell apart, Javier can’t help but worry about her constantly. The fact that they’d caught onto his surveillance rightfully pissed him off, forcing him to abandon his efforts entirely. Now, he can no longer keep tabs on her, and this loss of control claws at him.

Such a bitter pill to swallow, knowing she’s slipping further away into a crowd he mistrusts. A mistrust born from envy and happenstance towards the head of the clique who appears to be her new boyfriend. Shithead kid.

Javier despises how they’re influencing her. From his distant observations and what Romeo tells him at work, he sees the changes. Paloma is spending multiple nights away from home with little to no explanation, picking more arguments with her father, and frequently calling out of work. Her weekend performances at The Whiskey Fox have dwindled. It’s as if she’s transformed into a different person. One he doesn’t recognize. The vibrant, dedicated girl he knew is now a shadow of her former self, lost in a crowd he can’t reach.

She, on the other hand, is overwhelmed navigating the revelations of her bloodline. August has managed to explain everything as thoroughly as he can, and while it all still sounds so otherworldly, she decides to follow him with unwavering trust and loyalty. He shows her more photos of her mother, proving her involvement in the original group of believers, and that’s enough to keep her from questioning him until he brings up the more violent aspects of the ordeal.

“There’s someone who’s dying to meet you,” he told her days ago, convincing her to travel further out with him to meet this mysterious person.

They’ve crossed the state line into Louisiana in the dead of night. Being this far from home stirs an unfamiliar feeling in her gut, but it is quickly replaced by ornate curiosity as they navigate the swampy lands of the property. Here, the only other surviving member of the original group lives, and she’s surprised that’s he’s been so close all this time.

The dense, humid air clings to her leaving her skin sticky in sweat. The thick foliage rustles with unseen creatures that frighten her but she manages to keep her composure. Every step forward feels like a step deeper into a world she is just beginning to understand.

The house is… modest. Kindly put. It’s nestled amidst bald cypresses and weeping willows. The occasional twinkle of fireflies adds a touch of magic to the scene, making it feel more picturesque than what it really is. There’s a creaky wooden bridge that runs over the water leading to the small home, her boot snagging on a raised plank which causes her to stumble slightly.

“Careful, angel,” August warns, his voice cutting through the night, “helluva lot of water snakes and other critters lurkin’ out here. Would hate for ya to be snagged up by a gator.” He steadies her with a firm grip, and she mutters a brief ‘thanks’, shuddering at the mere thought of coming face to face with a fucking alligator.

Sloane and August cross the threshold as if it’s their own home while Gabe lingers outside nursing a lit cigarette. She hesitates for a moment before trailing in after them, her nose wrinkling at the stale scent hanging in the air mingled with something far more pungent.

In the dimly lit living room, an elderly man reclines on a tattered and weathered couch, his frail form beneath the worn fabric of a blanket. His sickly demeanor is evident, emphasized by the array of pill bottles strewn haphazardly across the coffee table. The room itself seems to sag under the weight of neglect, every creak and groan a testament to its precarious state; as if it could crumble at any moment.

“Guardati. Così bella. Così giovane. Avvicinati, la tua somiglianza con lei è sorprendente.”

She can't make sense of his thick accent, but August intervenes and gestures for her to come to the center of the room.

“He’s sayin’ you’re beautiful,” He translates, his words a lifeline in the sea of  her confusion, “and that your resemblance to your momma is uncanny. He wants to get a better look at ya.”

Her feet seem rooted to the floor at first, an uneasy sensation creeping over her once more. Despite her apprehension, she nods hesitantly and takes a few cautious steps forward. Standing at the foot of the couch, the elderly man’s weathered hand beckons for her to get closer, his eyes alight with curiosity and something else. Something she can’t quite place.

“Sarai una madre fantastica. Più grande di quella che ti ha preceduto. Tante vite perse e valorosamente sacrificate per far posto a te. Paloma, la matriarca della nuova era.”

She’s still so lost, the only thing she’s able to make out is her own name and the word mother. She turns to look over at August, who is watching intently as she silently asks him to translate again. He exchanges a glance with Sloane, who, uncharacteristically, remains silent.

“More monumental than your mother. He’s callin’ you the matriarch of the new age.”

Inhaling sharply, uncertainty clouds her thoughts as she struggles to decipher the old man’s intentions. When her attention returns to him, her breath catches in her throat once she notices a dagger clutched in his wrinkled hand. Panic surges through her veins and she instinctively moves to retreat, but his sudden grip on her wrist halts her in her tracks. She recoils, a sharp hiss escaping her lips as she tells him to let go.

“Take my life, Paloma. It would be an honor.”

Her blood runs cold at his words, eyes widening with a chill creeping up her spine. A sinister gleam flickers in his eyes, and she yanks her hand free, stumbling backward until she collapses onto the grimy floor. Terror grips her heart as she scrambles to her feet, her eyes darting frantically between the old man, August, and Sloane.

“Why did he say that?” Paloma’s voice cuts through the heavy silence, her confusion and nerves palpable.

There’s a moment of silence that only serves to fuel her growing agitation. She feels like she’s overreacting, but deep down, she knows she’s not. The old man’s request has unsettled her to the core. He asked her to kill him.

What. The. Fuck?

“He’s obviously sick and needs medical attention. Why did you bring me here?” Paloma’s gaze fixes on August, her tone tinged with accusation. As he steps closer to her, she instinctively takes a step back.

“For him. For this. He’ll be gone any day now ‘n his last request was to see you in person. He’s on his deathbed, Paloma. Remember ‘bout all the pain and sufferin’ that could end at your hands. Consider this part of that. Put him out of his misery–– he’s in so much pain and wants you to end it.”

“I-It’s murder.”

“If you think of it like that, you’re only hurtin’ yourself.”

She bites down roughly on her tongue, struggling to contain the torrent of emotions swirling inside her. A hesitant glance is cast toward the couch where the old man’s gaze remains fixed on her, his plea unyielding.

But she can’t bring herself to do it. She won’t. With a determined shake of her head, she takes a few steadying breaths. “M’not goin’ to do it. I’m sorry,” she declares, her voice wavering. It’s absurd, this situation they’ve found themselves in, and she can’t fathom how August could expect her to be remotely okay with it.

Sloane’s eyes roll with exasperation as she finally speaks up, her tone dripping with frustration and blunt honesty. “The shit we’re involved in ain’t always goin’ to be picture-fuckin’-perfect, Paloma. S’downright biblical—convoluted ‘n harsh. Not some fairytale. You’re goin’ to have to get your hands dirty eventually. This is tame compared to everythin’ that’s come before you, before me, before all of us. Quit pussyin’ out ‘n end this poor man’s sufferin’.”

She lets out a sound of disbelief, her mind reeling at the casualness yet intensity with which her friends discuss such a grave matter as goddamn murder.

But is it really murder if he’s this old and sick—moments away from ‘seeing the light’ and practically giving his life over to her to end? The moral ambiguity of the situation hits her hard, a cold shiver dancing down her spine. Despite the doubt gnawing at her conscience, she remains resolute in her decision. “No,” she states firmly, trembling with conviction.

Sloane scoffs in response, her displeasure evident when she abruptly exits the room, presumably heading outside to vent her frustrations to Gabriel.

“Baby––” August’s voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the weight of the situation

“No, August ‘n I mean it.”

More silence ensues, that is until the man begins to cough harshly, each spasm wracking his frail body. Splatters of blood stain the dirty blanket that envelops him. Paloma watches in stunned silence, unsure of what to do as he loses himself to the violent hacking. Her heart pounds in her chest with each agonizing moment, until finally, his body goes rigid, the coughing fit subsiding into an eerie stillness.

The events that follow unfold in slow motion. Gabriel and August wrap the man’s lifeless body in sheets scavenged from around the dilapidated house. They work in hushed tones, their movements methodical as they obscure his form before solemnly carrying it outside. With a heavy silence suspended over them, they toss it into the depths of the swamp, the murky waters swallowing the remains of a life now lost.

Paloma remains silent throughout, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and thoughts. She can’t shake the feeling of unease that squeezes her. At first, she argued for them to call an ambulance, to involve the authorities, but her pleas were swiftly dismissed by August.

He explained, with a grim certainty, how the action would backfire on them. The last thing they needed was to draw attention, to risk implicating themselves in suspicion. And as much as it pained her to admit it, she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. The consequences of involving the authorities were too great, and the thought of her father discovering that his dearest daughter was far from home, involved in something like this was a chilling prospect she couldn’t bear to contemplate.

He’d never let her out of his sight again.

The ride back to Seminary is long, restless and tense. She continues her vow of silence, ignoring them all together and shutting out the world around her. Even when August attempts to sweet talk her, his words fall on deaf ears.

It all feels surreal, like some fever dream she’ll wake up from at any moment, safe and sound in the comfort of her own bed. The memory of a dead body being dumped into a swamp as alligator food long gone.

She hops out of the truck as soon as it stops in the familiar driveway, grateful that her father wasn’t home yet, and August follows hot on her heels.

“Please say somethin’, sweetheart.”

“If it’s peace I’m bringin’, then why the need for violence? Why do I need to ‘get my hands dirty’?” 

“It’s… part of it.”

“Y’know you keep sayin’ that but never really explain what the hell it means.”

He sighs heavily, scratching at his jaw as he struggles to find the right words. “To appease our deity we have to give somethin’ up. I told you, s’very similar to the Genesis story of Cain and Abel and their offerings; ‘cept in this iteration Cain was favored instead of outcasted and cursed.”

“So killin’ that man would have been seen as an offering? What will you give up now that he’s dead, huh?” Her voice wavers with uncertainty, resolve beginning to falter. Maybe she isn’t ready to take on all this responsibility. While at first, she had fantasized about being a savior, something divine to help the world in its entirety, now it’s looking like she’s getting a lot more than she can morally handle.

“You told me all those nights ago that If I needed space ‘n time to think things over that you’d grant me that. So I’m askin’–– no, tellin’ you, August, that m’gonna need some distance to really think things through,” Paloma declares, her voice firm as she asserts her need for clarity and space.

His jaw twitches with a hint of exasperation, his piercing blue eyes searching her warm brown ones for understanding. He knows he’s pushed her too far, made her wary of him and his enigmatic cause. Despite his reluctance, he nods in resignation.

“Fine. You’re right,” he concedes, his voice tinged with regret. “Did say that ‘n I meant it. You take all the time you need, little dove. You know where to find me.”

There’s a pause as he hovers nearby. With a tender gesture, he leans in to plant a gentle kiss against her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before reluctantly pulling away.

“M’sorry for making you uncomfortable,” he murmurs softly with remorse. She doesn’t say anything, and with a final glance, he turns and departs, leaving her standing there with her arms crossed as she watches them drive away. Alone with her thoughts and exhausted, she can’t help but wonder what the hell she’s going to do now.

“I don’t see why we need to keep draggin’ this out. S’only goin’ to keep bringin’ more problems ‘n stoppin’ us from what we’re tryin’ to do.”

August stares out the large window that overlooks the backyard of the property, half listening to Sloane’s opinion as the three of them discuss what their next move is.

“This is exactly how it all went to shit last time. They showed their hand too early ‘n it scared Calmana off. She fucked ‘em over then went into hiding. That won’t happen again. I won’t let it.”

“And you don’t think takin’ her out to Louisiana was you showin’ your hand too early? Fuckin’ scared her off and now who knows if she’ll ever think ‘bout comin’ back.”

He mulls over her words, back still facing them and eyes lost in the vastness of the ranch. “Maybe so, but we can still turn this minor setback around.”

“How? When? Hate to be the bearer of bad news but the next full moon s’tomorrow. No way we get her back on our side by then.”

“By continuin’ to be patient, Sloane.” He snaps at her, turning his head to the side, “In the meantime we find someone else t’ give over.”

“Full offense, but that’s a stupid ass idea.” She voices unapologetically, “Specially with that cop boyfriend of hers. He’s been gettin’ too close, August. If another dead body shows up you know he’ll find some bullshit reason to bring us in ‘n who knows what’ll happen after that.”

He licks his teeth, irritation flaring in his eyes. “So we pluck one of our own ‘n you do what you do best and handle him.”

He turns to face them fully, his gaze sharp and probing as he studies their reactions. “Or is that a problem?”

Gabriel, who rarely interjects in these planning sessions, speaks up. “Not a problem. We jus’ gotta be careful.” His eyes lock with August’s, a silent battle of wills. Gabriel has harbored reservations for a while now, but Paloma’s increasing involvement has intensified his suspicions.

Was what August promised even real? They’ve been at this for years, taking innocent lives with barely anything to show. ‘It takes time’ were the pacifying words August had repeated over and over. For a while, they had kept him satiated, but now those words feel hollow and weightless. He doesn’t know if he can continue with the senseless killing as they wait for Paloma to come around.

“We will,” August insists, his voice calm but firm. “We’re playin’ the long game here. Have been for years now. S’the only way. The payoff will be more rewardin’ than anythin’ I’ve ever promised either of y’all. You just have to trust me. Do you trust me?”

The question lingers, laden with excessive weight. The three share a look, the silence stretching as the gravity of their situation settles over them.

Gabriel’s trust continues to weaken. Sloane’s is resolute. Finally, they nod in unison.

“Yes.”

The files from Rome arrive right at Javier’s doorstep, and the amount of them leaves him stunned. Expecting a box or two at most, he assumed from his phone call with the professor that there wouldn’t be much material to comb through.

He was wrong. Big time. About a dozen boxes now litter his trailer home, each one packed to the brim with documents and photographs. 

Nestled among the boxes is an unexpected addition: an Italian language learning guide. Within it is a neatly written note from the woman who sent everything over.

Sorry these took so long. I translated as much as I could. Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Hopefully this helps.

His gaze bounces between the guide in his hands and the mountain of boxes. The enormity of the task ahead is almost daunting, but there’s also a flicker of excitement. This could be the breakthrough he’s been waiting for, buried in the copious amount of tangible information.

He sifts through each box thoroughly. Papers are strewn about, forming a chaotic landscape around him. His brows pinch together in concentration as he absorbs the gravity of the crimes committed, the horrific details coming to life through the countless documents. He reads how these assholes twisted the Catholic religion to their will in a blasphemous manipulation tactic.

The symbol appears again and again, more times than he can count. Its presence is an undeniable thread connecting past atrocities to present dangers. There’s no escaping the conclusion: whoever was involved back then is still pulling strings now. Javier clings to a sliver of hope, or perhaps it’s a desperate prayer, that it’s just one person and not an entire community entrenched in the same malevolent way that plagued the city of Rome.

As he delves deeper, the hours slip away unnoticed. It’s only when his stomach grumbles loudly that he realizes how late it’s gotten. The clock is nearing ten. He hasn’t eaten all day, not deliberately but because his hunger was eclipsed by the information he’s been processing. The realization snaps him momentarily out of his research-induced trance.

“Just one more,” Javi mutters to himself, metaphorically knee-deep in the files detailing the exploitation of countless women. Each folder reveals more barbarities, more lives shattered by sinister manipulations.

He flips open another manila folder, expecting more of the same grim details. Instead, he’s met with a photograph that makes him do a double take. A brunette with strikingly familiar features stares back at him. The intensity of her eyes, the curve of her nose, the pout of her lips—it all mirrors Paloma with an unsettling accuracy.

“Fuck this,” he snaps the folder shut without bothering to read the accompanying information. Her presence in his mind is relentless, making it impossible for him to concentrate on the task at hand.

He stands from the couch, pacing the small space of his living room while running a hand through his hair. It’s as if she’s everywhere, her likeness etched into the horrors he’s uncovering. Her ability to infiltrate his thoughts is infuriating, a constant reminder of the unresolved feelings that he can’t seem to overcome.

He needs a fucking breather.

It’s a slow night at The Whiskey Fox, and Javier feels a wave of relief as he steps inside. The atmosphere is a welcome break from the overwhelming sea of files that waits for him at home. After quick meal and a drink here, he’ll be ready to dive back into the labyrinth of information, hopefully with a clear head.

His moment of respite is cut short as Sloane saunters over to his side of the bar, her expression a mix of amusement and mischief. She leans forward, her shit-eating grin unwavering.

“What’ll it be, handsome?”

Javier keeps his voice plain as he tells her his order, his eyes flicking up to the television screen nearby that is broadcasting a college football game.

He can feel her gaze lingering on him as she uncaps his beer and slides it across the wooden countertop. Her stare is almost palpable, a prickling sensation erupting along his skin under the weight of it, but he refuses to react. Instead, his eyes stay fixed on the screen, ignoring her presence altogether.

Javi takes a long swig of the cold beer, the emptiness of the bar that had initially brought him solace now feels charged with unspoken tension; a reminder that no matter where he goes, complications seem to follow.

“Long day?” she asks casually, her hands busy with wiping down counters and rearranging bottles.

“Every day is a long day ‘round here,” He responds, attention still on the game. He hopes the curt reply will end the conversation, but Sloane isn’t so easily deterred.

“You’re right. The days do seem to drag by. ‘Specially workin’ with a job like yours, officer.” she continues, her tone light yet probing. 

His gaze flickers over to her then, only to find dark eyes and a seductive smile looking back at him. There’s a knowing glint in her expression, one that makes him uneasy. He doesn’t bother responding, focusing instead on his beer, then devouring the bar food that arrives shortly after.

“I’ve been told m’really good at bein’ a distraction,” she purrs, leaning closer. “Not to overstep, but you look really tense. I could help relieve some of that stress. Make tonight a little more bearable.” She bites her lip and tilts her head, her eyes swimming with suggestion.

Javi can feel the heat of her gaze, the overt invitation simmering between them. He’s tempted to look away, to bury himself back in the files at home, but something about her boldness holds his attention. For a moment, he considers the offer, the promise of temporary relief from the relentless pressure he’s under.

He finishes his meal in silence, the taste turning bland in his mouth as he mulls over his next move. The night is full of possibilities he’s not sure he wants to explore.

Javier taps his fingers against the wooden countertop as he watches her work, now his turn to do the staring. Sloane doesn’t back down; their gazes matched when she approaches him again. It’s a challenge and invitation rolled into one. The sparse number of patrons nearby do nothing to pull her attention away from him. She’s all in.

He knows he shouldn’t, but between the mess with Paloma and the complexity of the cases, a quick hook-up might just be what he needs to relieve some of that stress, as Sloane had so bluntly put it. It’s not his best move, sleeping with someone who had been on his suspects list; and it’s certainly not wise to get with the best friend of the woman he can’t seem to get over. 

The prolonged silence between them is thick with building sexual tension. Deciding to be fucking reckless, he leans forward slightly, a question forming on his lips.

“What time are you off?” he asks, his voice low.

“Twenty minutes,” she replies quickly, her excitement barely concealed.

Javier nods, effectively confirming the salacious invitation. Sloane giggles, biting her lip as she brings him another beer, finishing her shift with practiced motions. He closes his tab, feeling a mixture of anticipation and guilt nestle in his chest.

Stepping outside, he heads to his truck parked at the very back of the lot. He lights a cigarette, taking a long drag as he contemplates his decision. You still have time to back out, the angel on his shoulder reminds him, the voice of reason in the quiet night. But the devil, fueled by his sexual frustration, whispers back, Or you can keep doing what you’re doing and allow yourself one quick, good fuck to get your head back on straight.

He puffs away at his cigarette, the smoke curling up into the darkness as he weighs his options. The decision feels heavier than it should.

Sloane saunters out of the building, her eyes scanning the parking lot until they land on him. A flirty smile tugs at her lips as she draws closer.

“Thought you woulda changed your mind. Happy to see that wasn’t the case,” she teases, casually plucking the cigarette from between his lips. She takes a long drag, savoring it, before returning it to its original place.

Javier narrows his gaze, irritation and desire flickering in his eyes. “I should. Probably a dumb fuckin’ idea, but I don’t really give a shit at the moment.”

Her smile broadens into a smirk. “Got tired of watchin’ us from a distance and wanted to see the real thing up close?” Her nimble fingers toy with the button of his shirt, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she looks up at him.

His jaw flexes at the mention of his patrolling, a reminder of the line he’s about to cross. Javier shrugs, playing it cool. “Had to make sure you weren’t causing any trouble around here, sweetheart.”

She laughs, a sultry sound that dances around them. Slowly, she begins unbuttoning his shirt, her touch deliberate and teasing. “M’always causin’ trouble, officer, and I think you know it, too.”

Javier finishes off the cigarette, dropping it to the ground and smothering it. His large hands reach out, gripping her waist firmly as he swiftly switches their position. Pressing her against the side of his truck, he ducks his head, placing a few kisses along the line of her jaw. His lips trail down to her neck, eliciting a soft gasp from her as her hands roam over his now-exposed chest. 

Their lips meet in a heated kiss, making out passionately in the shadows of the nearly deserted parking lot. Sloane’s hand comes down to palm Javier through his jeans and he shudders, his own hand fidgeting with the door handle until he swings it open and ushers her to climb in.

Once they’re inside the spacious cab of his truck, Javier pulls Sloane into his lap and his tongue slips into her mouth, fingers digging into skin as they undress one another as best as they can in the confined space. He’s turned his mind completely off, losing himself in her eager touches and lustful moans.

“Knew you’d be good at this,” Sloane breathes out, tilting her head back as Javier begins to leave hungry kisses and lovebites all over her neck and collarbone. Back in Colombia, the girls at the brothel had jokingly given him the nickname Javi el Vampiro due to his bad habit of leaving marks. Once he realized it was bad for their business, he quit doing it.

He hasn’t changed a bit. The bite on Paloma’s shoulder an example of it, and now the evidence he’s eagerly leaving against Sloane’s pretty, flushed skin. Javier can’t get enough of her taste, her scent, the feeling of her writhing against him. He grinds his hips up as she presses down, both of them desperate for more friction, more contact, more release.

He hikes her skirt up, moving her panties to the side as two of his thick fingers press against her clit and she moans wildly, her wetness coating his digits.

No matter how bratty or self assured the women who pursue him act, they always succumb to his skilful touch.

“You like that, baby?” Javier asks with a tilt of his head, applying more pleasure as she mewls out a filthy yes. He slowly moves his fingers inside of her, fucking her gently as she moans and begs.

“Need to feel all of you,” Sloane selfishly requests in which he quickly complies, raising his hips to pull his jeans down to his mid thigh and he expertly grabs a condom, slipping it on.

Her hands rest on his shoulders so she can lean in to kiss him messily, biting on his lower lip. The tip of his cock nudges against her clit then down her slit, collecting her arousal. “Put it in, sweetheart.” He orders and she complies once he moves his hand, her small fingers wrapping around his thick base as she guides it to her weeping cunt, slowly sinking down on him.

“Shit,” Javier’s head falls back against the headrest at the feeling of her tight pussy clenching around him. The windows have fogged up due to their ministrations, and there’s a slight rock to his truck once she fully sits on him and begins to move her hips, tastefully alternating between bouncing and swiveling around. 

“Oh, fuck, yes,” Sloane moans, her nails digging into his shoulders as she takes him on the ride of his fucking life.

He pinches her nipples then soothes the feeling over with his wet tongue, bringing her closer as he places open mouthed kisses all over her bouncing tits. The scratchy tickle of his mustache has her walls clenching around him viscerally. 

“I’m not, oh f-fuck, I’m not Paloma. You don’ have t’hold back.” She sputters, slowing her movements. Immediately his demeanor changes, pulling back from her chest and bringing his hand up to grip her jaw.

“Touchy subject. I know all about it,” she licks her lips, urging him to tighten his hold on her face, “S’okay baby. Take whatever you want from me,” her voice drops to a whisper, hips beginning to move again slowly and sensually. “I don’t mind bein’ used.”

The clasp on her jaw don’t relent, her filthy words stroking his kink for hearing beautiful women be so vulgar.

“That what you want, babygirl? For me to use this tight little pussy of yours?” His hand lowers from her jaw to wrap around her neck, thick fingers pushing in to the delicate skin. 

“Yes, please your cock feels fucking amazin’. You’re so big.” She relishes the feeling of his fingers wrapped around her neck and the lack of airflow, eyes fluttering shut and her lips parting open as he begins to thrust up into her, completely taking control. 

Javier’s free hand grips her waist, guiding her up and down roughly. “Atta girl. Takin’ it so good, baby.” His grunts and her moans interwoven with the obscene sounds of her squelching pussy and his rabid thrusts fill the air of the cab, bodies glistening in sweat as he fucks her like she’s nothing but a toy.

Her walls cling to his cock when she cums all over him, the creamy ring of her release evident against the condom as she shouts his name with a litany of expletives, falling forward against his chest.

Both of his hands find purchase guiding her ass, the change in angle enough to bring forth his own orgasm, shooting his load into the condom and leaving bruises along her supple skin.

Sloane breathes heavily against his neck, her soft kisses trailing along the column of his throat and under his jaw as he tries to steady his racing heart, already craving nicotine. 

“Mmm, that was fun. Save a horse ‘n ride a cowboy,” she giggles, pulling away to kiss him on the lips one final time before easing off his cock.

He only huffs as they straighten up and redress, stepping out of the truck. The subtle breeze offers a welcome relief from the heat that had built up inside the cab. Javier wastes no time lighting a cigarette, taking a deep drag and offering one to her, which she declines.

Tonight has been nothing but a blur of poor decisions, culminating in an act he can’t take back. The temporary relief he sought from his stress vanishes as they peel out. Alone with his thoughts, the magnitude of his actions begins to sink in. Fuck, why had he done it? Why hadn’t he just listened to his conscience and left? Why hadn’t he stopped when she said Paloma’s name?

Now he grapples with the repercussions of his colossal screw-up. Javier berates himself, unable to suppress the self-loathing that constantly gnaws at him but seems to be doing a real number on him now. How could he be so stupid, so weak? He let his primal, sexual urges eclipse his judgment, allowing a moment of feebleness to infiltrate his hardened demeanor and dictate his actions.

It’s the same vicious cycle he finds himself in constantly. The only difference is that he’s repeating it here and not back in Colombia.

With each drag of his cigarette, he replays the scene over and over, each time feeling a sharper sting of regret. 

He feels Sloane’s lips on his neck, her hands on his shoulders and the sweat from her body clinging to him uncomfortably. He wants to wash it all off, baptize himself in whatever body of holy water that’ll refine his morals and character.

Paloma is everything he wants, whether he wants to admit it or not—kind, compassionate, and genuine. He doesn’t deserve her, that much is apparent, but it doesn’t deter him from how strongly he feels about her; even if he tries to stifle it and acts out like a complete asshole in hopes that he can trick his heart and mind into dismissing her. To no avail.

He’s jeopardized any semblance of reconciliation for a fleeting moment of escapism with Sloane. The stress he thought he could shed by seeking solace in another’s arms has only deepened, leaving him feeling more burdened than before. The emptiness of the night echoes the hollowness he feels inside. No amount of nicotine is going to change that as he thinks about Paloma.

He imagines her face, the pain and disappointment she’ll feel if she finds out. It’s a look that he hates he’s so familiar with, having hurt her more times than he ever should have. All that cruelty he’s inflicted on her to keep himself from hurting her further down the line has only doubled back with a vengeance.

He really is a piece of shit, as he’s been reminded of plenty of times by a vast amount of people—not just women, but colleagues, higher-ups, everyone. Then in the same breath being called a hero. As if.

He’s a bad person, undeserving of Paloma’s or anyone else’s love and forgiveness. So much for him wanting to better himself. If his mother, may she rest in peace, were here–– she’d definitely be disappointed by the man her son has become.

I didn’t raise you to be like this.

His fists clench at his sides, discarding the finished cigarette as he leans against the hood of his truck, running his fingers through his hair.

To spit in the metaphorical face of the so-called respect and admiration he has for Paloma, over something as meaningless as a fleeting fucking moment of lust, fills him with a profound sense of shame. He stands there, staring into the darkness, wishing he could turn back time, make different choices, walk away, and preserve her dignity.

To erase the pain he keeps inflicting on this poor girl.

But the damage is done, he thinks bitterly. There's no undoing it. Now he has to face whatever consequences come his way, knowing that he’s long lost the best damn thing that’ll ever happened to him.

The realization cuts deep, a cold, hard truth that he can’t escape. Paloma’s bravado, her gentle nature, and the genuine connection they once shared—all of it is now further tainted by his continuous thoughtless actions.

Italian translations:

Guardati. Così bella. Così giovane. Avvicinati, la tua somiglianza con lei è sorprendente. = Look at yourself. So beautiful. So young. Come closer, your resemblance to her is striking.

Sarai una madre fantastica. Più grande di quella che ti ha preceduto. Tante vite perse e valorosamente sacrificate per far posto a te. Paloma, la matriarca della nuova era. = You will be an amazing mother. Bigger than the one before you. So many lives lost and valiantly sacrificed to make room for you. Paloma, the matriarch of the new age.

[jentledaisies]

CASE FILES: YANDERE!MAFIA!BLACKPINK ACCESS: GRANTED

disclaimer: This is not in any way shape or form a representation of Jisoo, Jennie, Rosè, Lisa, or Blackpink as a whole. All reactions, actions, thoughts, words, and general emotions are fiction and created by me. The behavior shown in these reactions is toxic and unhealthy but fantasized in a romantic way for simply that, fantasy. None of this should be taken seriously or sought after in real life, or performed. please do not romanticize this behavior/mindset in real life as it is unhealthy and toxic, and if you or anyone you know is in such an environment, should be taken out of it immediately. Again, this blog is purely fiction, and all acts taken place in this blog should remain so. ↳ None of my characters, yandere or otherwise, will ever nor would ever perform, act, or consider sexual activities of any sort without consent. full stop. Any and all sexual acts are done with the full consent of all parties taking place. i will never, ever, ever write otherwise or even consider writing otherwise.

CASE FILE: BP RECON ↳ The Blood Pythons [BP] are a notorious mafia crime family located in Seoul, South Korea. It is led by a joint circle of four core members, one being the family's daughter and boss. Many sting operations and undercover agents have brought back what is known. Due to their formation of split leadership, it is seen as one of the most difficult to infiltrate and dismantle. Nothing but full loyalty and deep respect have been observed within the members and between ranks. ↳ It is believed that not only has [BP] cut a deal with the police force in their area, but has likewise cut a deal with the federal force. No member has ever been charged with a federal crime, leading to the belief that not only have they cut a deal, but low-level members may be planted through the forces. Many reports have come through that while the gang holds a fearsome grasp on the Korean underworld, nothing compares to the way they will lash out when it comes to their significant others [LOVERS]. ↳ The [LOVERS] are an unknown group who are the chosen partners of the four core members. It is believed that they are the final string for them all, and as such are fiercely protected by members of [BP]. Even more than the horrors brought upon those who threaten [LOVERS] by the members, the pain brought upon them by the core members is said to be hell upon earth.

CASE FILE: [KIM JISOO]

NAME: KIM JISOO ↳ ALIAS: CHECKMATE POSITION: Underboss SPECIALITY: Technological Leader OVERVIEW: [CHECKMATE] is the notorious underboss of BP. Although she rarely goes into the field she is an extremely skilled attacker and her current murder/kill count is still unconfirmed, although it is said to be in the hundreds. She deals with a lot of the technical deals in the group and is mainly in charge of all finances. She is the main owner of a majority of the mafia's properties/businesses. KNOWN ORIGIN: A well-documented child prodigy, [CHECKMATE] was accepted into Korea’s top tech school [AGE: 16]. A year later, [AGE: 17] an anonymous hacker broke into Korea's State Treasury, alleged at the time and now confirmed to be [CHECKMATE]. Along with the vigilante act of releasing loan money back into personal banks, it was discovered that many state and military confidential leaks were sourced by her. At the discovery, she was arrested and processed immediately. However, four months after her sentencing, she escaped during an explosion at Seoul Women's Penitentiary, alleged and confirmed to be an act orchestrated by [BP]. One year later, [AGE:18], a UCA discovered [CHECKMATE] as the underboss of [BP] after completing the assassination of a rival gang, [KINGPIN]. SKILL OVERVIEW: As a certifiable tech genius, [CHECKMATE] is in charge of handling all technical advances/operations in [BP], as well as aiding financial situations and management. As far as is known, [CHECKMATE] controls all surveillance and research in the gang. She is the leader of all other members who work with tech, which aids her in her underboss position. UNDERCOVER DETAIL: [REDACTED] was sent in undercover in [BP] alongside [REDACTED] before [CHECKMATE] was affiliated or arrested. However, once [CHECKMATE] had joined, [REDACTED] was the one to bring forth the information about her. [CHECKMATE] was said to be one of the most difficult members to get to, unlike the other undercover agents, and as soon as word leaked about her discovery of position, [REDACTED] was swiftly terminated by [BP]. KILL COUNT: ↳ CONFIRMED: 500+ ↳ UNCONFIRMED: 1,000+ CASE FILE: [KIM JENNIE]

NAME: KIM JENNIE ↳ ALIAS: VIPER POSITION: Boss SPECIALITY: The Leader. She controls it all. OVERVIEW: [VIPER] is the final say. She has been the leader since age 17 and is extremely skilled both in the field and out of the field. [VIPER] rules the underworld with an iron grip. She is feared by her enemies and adored by those who work under her. [VIPER] has been confirmed to have taken down entire cartels/gangs all by herself, and is known for never being someone to cross. A cold-blooded killer is what is in her blood. KNOWN ORIGIN: [VIPER] was born to to infamous mafia boss and former [BP] leader, Kim Su-yoon [BULLET]. Her father is still unknown. Despite her family's shady ties, [VIPER] was a notorious party girl for a while before the events of her reign began. [VIPER] took over her mother’s position as the most powerful boss in Korea at the young age of 17 when [BULLET] passed away. Although the circumstances of [BULLET] death are unknown, it is assumed [VIPER] killed her for power and position. Her alleged first act as boss was the alleged manipulation of the prison break that freed [CHECKMATE]. [VIPER] proved to be just as powerful of a boss as her late mother as she easily defended her and her gang’s position at the top of Korea and then expanded the territory quite quickly. In just under two years she had become one of the most powerful mafia bosses in Asia and remains in that position to this day.

SKILL OVERVIEW: As she was trained from birth, [VIPER] is at the top in all categories of the gang. She is the main leader of everyone, even in specialized positions such as Tech Leader and Stealth Leader. The only team she doesn’t have that control over is the medical team. She has shown to be proficient in everything from offensive/defensive attacks to politics and strategy. Her skill set lies in her proficiency in all areas, making her a deadly enemy and prolific leader. UNDERCOVER DETAIL: As a very wealthy family the Kims had many people who worked in the household. [REDACTED] was sent in during the middle years of [BULLET'S] reign as a worker. [REDACTED] had acted indecorously and fallen in love with [BULLET] during that time. While unethical, the government's desperation had allowed [REDACTED] to continue the flirtation, until it all culminated in [BULLET'S] pregnancy with [VIPER]. At this time, [REDACTED] turned in his final report before disappearing off the grid, away from [BULLET] and the government. He was assumed alive due to a low-priority tail assigned to him to ensure his safety in hiding, until [CHECKMATE] leaked the documents of [REDACTED] name, files, and information. Two days later [VIPER] promptly sent his death notification with his corpse. KILL COUNT: ↳ CONFIRMED: 2,500+ ↳ UNCONFIRMED: 4,000+ CASE FILE: [PARK CHAEYOUNG / ROSÉ]

NAME: ROSEANNE PARK / PARK CHAEYOUNG

↳ ALIAS: REAPER

POSITION: Consigliere

SPECIALITY: Assasin / Hitmen Leader

OVERVIEW: [REAPER] is the third-in-command of [BP] crime family. She is one of the highest trusted advisors/members alongside [VIPER] and [CHECKMATE]. She is the boss of every crew in the family. everything goes through her before reaching [CHECKMATE], and then [VIPER], and she has the power to start/end missions in the Boss’s name.

KNOWN ORIGIN: [REAPER] was born in Auckland, New Zealand before moving to Melbourne, Australia [AGE: 1] with her father who had met her then-future stepmother. Many reports were filed against the small family over the next ten years, yet due to the negligence of Australian authorities, no action was taken. When [REAPER] was 12 her father was found murdered in the living room of the family home, and the young girl was found locked inside her room with only a single bottle of water with her, her deceased family dog next to her father. An investigation led to a large history of the stepmother abusing not only the young girl but her father as well, using them to earn herself money, which she finally stole and ran away. [REAPER] was sent to live with her biological mother in Korea, and three years later, the mother was found murdered brutally. Further investigation into the death came across a horrifying discovery of her abusing her traumatized child even more. Before an attempt at an arrest could be made of her, [REAPER] disappeared. One year later, [AGE: 16] the stepmother was found dead with the calling card of [REAPER] and [BP] announcing her as the third leader.

SKILL OVERVIEW: [REAPER] gained many skills that would aid her during her time training in [BP]. It's reported that she mastered the art of being a hitman quickly, and from there sent out to kill her stepmother. [REAPER] has killed without mercy, her known kill count just shy of her boss’s. She knows how to defend herself, and has carried out many assassinations in broad daylight, in public places, yet gone completely unnoticed.

UNDERCOVER DETAILS: [REAPER] is the most well-documented member, despite [VIPER'S] partying past. [REDACTED] entered undercover with [REDACTED] before [CHECKMATE] and [REAPER] joined. [REDACTED] rose through the ranks quickly, with top fighting skills and a political tongue. When [REAPER] joined, [REDACTED] began a relationship with her, unknown to her CO. When [REAPER] set out to assassinate her former stepmother, [REDACTED] joined her. Though [REDACTED] took no part in the killing, she was quickly removed from the operation for worries of her psychological profile, and the way she seemed to be leaning into the life. [REDACTED'S] final report was after her disposal, and she explained how [REAPER] demanded her disappearance as her final act of mercy. [REDACTED] burned her real identity and is currently unknown in her whereabouts.

KILL COUNT: ↳ CONFIRMED: 2,400+ ↳ UNCONFIRMED: 3,000+

CASE FILE: [LALISA MANOBAL / LISA]

NAME: LALISA MANOBAL / LISA ↳ ALIAS: SAVIOR

POSITION: Consigliere / Associate

Specialty: Doctor / Medical Leader

OVERVIEW: [SAVIOR], is, officially speaking, not truly a member of the [BP] crime family. She is officially classified as an associate, someone who works for the crime family but is not a member. Yet, she is higher ranking than any other crew or crew leader, her position in the family being an odd one as she actually holds the same authority and power as the other leaders, specifically [REAPER]. For this reason, in the family between the members, she holds the position of consigliere.

KNOWN ORIGIN: [SAVIOR] is the only member of the [BP] Korean Crime Family who is not Korean or of Korean ethnicity. [SAVIOR] was born and raised in Buri Ram, Thailand, with a loving mother and stepfather. [SAVIOR] is a certifiable genius with an IQ of 184. She graduated high school [AGE: 13] before going into pre-med at SNU, thus moving to Korea alone. She graduated in just a few years, before being transferred to medical school. It is unclear exactly how it happened, but after graduating med school [AGE: 20] she went off the grid for over three months. When [SAVIOR] finally resurfaced everything was fine until certain events led to her connection with [BP] coming to light.

SKILL OVERVIEW: [SAVIOR] has the most straightforward skill set of all the members. As [SAVIOR] is a licensed doctor, she is the medical leader for the [BP] crime family. She is the leader of all medical teams of the family, and the only one trusted enough to take care of the other inner members, herself included. She is a skilled fighter as well but not as much as the other girls, so she prefers not fighting. If [SAVIOR] is on a mission on the field, it is said she remains away from the action.

UNDERCOVER DETAILS: [REDACTED] went undercover a few months after [SAVIOR] joined, before she was discovered. [REDACTED] stated that very few, if any knew of [SAVIOR], and he didn't even know of her until a mission gone bad. Due to a lack of reports, not much is known of her activity in the gang, only her position and skill. [REDACTED] passed away on a mission gone wrong against [CHA LEE-YEON].

KILL COUNT: ↳ CONFIRMED: 572 ↳ UNCONFIRMED: 0

jentledaisies © 2024 no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion advised, your media consumption is your responsibility

[nothing-but-paisley]

New Fic Alert

A VC/X-Files crossover

Armand/Daniel Molloy, Mulder/Scully, 2.5k, rated M, in progress

Mulder and Scully delve into the strange, reclusive life of underground journalist and vampire fiction writer Daniel Molloy, who appears on surveillance footage when the agents are investigating the death of a state senator found mysteriously drained of blood in Miami.

[vonev]

Operation: Ivory

CH 1: Observed.

MW2, Simon "Ghost" RileyxReader fanfiction

Got my hands on writing about one of the hottest fictional characters I had laid my eyes on.

Self-insert, AFAB, she/her pronouns.

Word count, 4454.

After a short trip back from Italy, Operation: Ivory was officially conducted under the strategy that you were to be watched, 24/7, in the comfort of your home.

Unbeknownst to you, you weren't truly alone.

And someone has slowly grown a keen interest in you over time.

______________________________________________________________

—Present day, 18th of November, 20xx

At approximately 2:35 a.m.

“Lass is bit of a clumsy one, isn’t she?” 

John MacTavish, codename —Soap. Spinning in his chair, his hand gracefully— not —toppled his mug over the edge of the desk. Spillage was found across the hard-wooden floor, slowly seeping into the innocent rug underneath. Soap let out a string of curses under his breath, the mess would be a, and he quotes, “Pain in my absolute arse” to deal with.

A quiet, audible scoff could be heard from behind the guilty man.

“Good luck with scrubbing all of that out.” A rough voice spoke up, or rather, mocked.

“Shut yer arse before I do it myself, Gaz.” Soap held malice in his tone, signifying that he was not to be fucked with now. Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick merely held his hands up and feigned defeat, not wanting to deal with an annoyed comrade; he knew better than to tip Soap over, considering the operation at hand.

What could be the operation at hand , one might ask—

And answer they shall receive, as the woman under surveillance let out a yelp that made even the three observing, well-groomed soldiers jump.

“You better be fucking joking!” Followed by a string of cusses that would put a sailor to shame. It turned out that the woman in the camera had accidentally let her pasta sit way too long for comfort in the boiling pot. She quickly dropped the laundry basket in her arms and tended to the stove, turning it off as she threw her head back, letting out a deep sigh that she had bottled up for a short while. “Guess I’ll be eating ramen tonight, again.” The disappointment in her tone was evident to anyone listening.

At that moment, all three men in the room unknowingly shared the exact thought of the scenery unfolding in front of their eyes.

‘Wow, she’s bad at this.’

Unbeknownst to you, three men had been observing your every move since you returned from that Italy trip. Having gotten intel on a tourist with a questionable-looking file attached under her name—it was found not long later that you were somehow tied to another inactive operation and could be of use to the team.

It had been a whole week since the said operation had been announced: “Operation Ivory.” as their captain would call it. 

The reasoning behind such a name was no wonder to anyone who knew how much the task meant to the people involved; ivory is regarded as highly prized—which is the exact value of this operation. All intel and clues gathered led to the conclusion that it all started and ended with you.

“Would you believe me if I had said that this woman—” The captain, John ‘Price’ as everyone would call him, slid the file across the smooth surface of the tabletop, perfectly stopping amid dozens of bags of evidence and the group that gathered in the room, sat accordingly at the table.

“---Is the source of it all?” Price now sat upright, his hands clasped in front of him. His stern eyes scanned the entire room, jumping from one face to another as he observed their varying reactions. The responses he received were a mix of confused huffs, groans and silence.

Soap was the first to pick up the file and pass it over to the next person after giving it a brief look, until it landed in Gaz’s hands.

Gaz was the first to bring up the state of her file—it was clean—albeit way too clean. 

“She doesn’t seem the type to stick around, huh.” He commented as his eyes nailed on a piece of information that stuck out like a sore thumb. His eyes rose from the file to his captain, who looked at him with a glint of amusement.

“That would be the case, yeah?” Price cocked his eyebrow.

The case Price referred to meant the now-disassembled terrorist group that doomed several towns in Italy, including a well-known tourist spot. Countless lives had been lost in a short timeline so fast that no one saw it coming—not even the general himself.

An operation had quickly been organised in the recent event, and assigned task forces had been dispatched almost immediately a few hours after the news.

Yet a day later, after landings had been confirmed, the leader of the organised terrorist group, Messiah Williams, was found dead.

As stated in the file, he was found with a broken neck and—

“No eyes.” Price shuddered at the evidence image that flashed in his mind. “His fingernails were ripped off too, and he showed signs of struggle, but she most likely restrained him to a chair and used ketamine on him.” He nodded over at the evidence displayed on the table. A tiny bottle in a bag, still containing the leftover drug.

“So? She was a tourist that arrived at an unfortunate time; what’s the deal?” Soap let out a scoff at the information given; it had seemed fruitless to him with what they had planned so far. “I doubt this lass even knew of the leader—I mean, look at ‘er!” As he said so, he deliberately pointed at the government-issued passport photo of her. “A woman this beautiful couldn’t have committed such a crime.” 

A collective sound of disapproval could be heard throughout the room. 

“Soap. It would help for you to not think with your bottoms for once. Christ.” Price acclaimed, his eyes now donned with disappointment. “We have reasons to believe that she may be the culprit; her appearance in Italy was just too coincidental, and her flight took off a few days after the assassination back to her hometown.” 

“All her actions have proven to be suspicious and need to be observed.” The captain turned around on his chair and switched the TV on; a recording was playing on the screen—a recording of the suspect. It started off calm; a figure dressed in black could be seen stalking up to the doors, and as the figure approached the entryway, they turned around and stared into the camera—promptly shooting it dead with a pistol.

Price went back to a specific frame, the frame where the figure’s face is shown, though blurry. 

“Most of the descriptions about the figure in this frame match the woman in question.” He rubbed his temple, turning his gaze from Soap to the only man standing at the back of the room. “You. Don’t just stand there menacingly. Any thoughts?”

The man gave Price a knowing look; his eyes dropped to the file—specifically scanning the woman’s facial features as he took the pieces of information in.

“Wouldn’t hurt you to stay seated during meetings, ya know?” Gaz, now facing his body to the man, said, hoping he’d follow through with the request. “Got a stick up his arse, yea? Whaddya thought?” Soap exclaimed, making a mockery of the man standing still as a stone away from everyone.

“In your dirty dreams,  Sergeant .” 

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, a name that stood out in many files. Never had a name sent chills down the spine of dozens—especially in the military. He closed the distance with the table, arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I’ll do it myself if I had to, yer son of a b—” 

“Quiet.”

Silence fell in the room. Price’s demanding voice sent the message clear as day to everyone. 

Soap discreetly mumbled under his breath. “You got a stick up yours as well.” 

Price felt his eye twitch at Soap’s words, slowly sending a glare his way. The guilty man met his gaze and immediately broke it off—choosing to now inspect the painting from the side of his seat instead, whistling a quiet, casual tune.

“Alright, everyone had the time to check the file; Operation Ivory will be conducted if there aren’t any objections—” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gaz slowly raising his hand in question. “---And I do not accept any objections.” Gaz’s arm immediately shot back down to his lap. 

An assuring smile spread across Price’s face. 

“Great!” He celebrated. Standing up, he straightened his posture and turned to the sizable screen behind him. Switching the channel it revealed an interior of a house—

— Your house.

“Huh, for someone that doesn’t stay in one place often, she does decorate her home well.” Taking in a cosy-looking living room, Gaz found himself agreeing with the choices of furniture as well as the wall paint of her choosing. “Dark green wainscoting, good choice.” He hummed to himself.

From what the group could see, pillows were scattered throughout the sofa, and a couple of small plants sat atop the coffee table; a small, wall-mounted TV could be seen in front of the aforementioned furniture—a romance-comedy show was broadcasting at that hour. If none were the wiser, one would’ve thought the living space belonged to a lovely young lady—not a lady with blood in her hands.

“Why are we looking inside some poor woman’s home again?” Soap questioned, his gaze fixated on Price. His captain grinned, eyes now settling back on the curious man. 

“We’re putting her under our surveillance, simple as.” 

The order alone aroused confusion in the room. Uncertain looks were exchanged, and Soap choked on his spit. “We’re watching her? Isn’t this, like, illegal or something?” He quietly chuckled to himself at the joke.

Silence was all he got in response.

“...Don’t we have a more pressing matter to tend to than this woman?” Ghost raised a quick question; his eyes held no emotions, despite the case at hand.

Price let out a sigh, seemingly growing irritated at stupid questions thrown at him left and right. “We always do.” Then, finally, he admitted, “But this woman singlehandedly murdered a terrorist organisation’s leader; I don’t know how much more important this has to be for you to take it seriously, Ghost.” He sent a defeated look toward Ghost.

Ghost shrugged, letting out a hum at his captain’s words. “Then when do we start?” He questioned yet again; his teammates followed along and nodded to the question. 

Finally, it seemed as though that question alone soothed Price’s doubts. He was glad everyone was willing to work on this operation together. “We start as soon as possible—meaning…today.” Then, he announced, “Day shifts range from 12 p.m. to 1200 a.m.” He wrote down the time on a tiny notepad as he continued, “As for midnight shifts, they should be starting at 1200 a.m. to 1200 p.m.” 

A loud groan sounded nearby, “12 hours. On this little lass.” Soap complained, dragging his hand down his broad face. Price sighed—an action that was growing way too familiar to him. “You’ll all be compensated extra.” It seemed like the mention of extra compensation grabbed the attention of his fellow comrades.

“Suddenly, I’m awake and ready to work on this operation.” Soap straightened up on his seat, rolling his shoulders to relieve some tension. Price nodded; he jotted more on his notepad before ripping out four individual papers, rolling each in his palm and holding it out in front of the group. 

“Pick one. Whichever you get will be the shift for your group.” And on command, Gaz and Ghost took turns taking the tiny piece of paper. “We’ll divide into two groups—obviously”, sarcasm dripped in his voice, “Ghost, pair up with Soap. Gaz and I will be the other pair.” Everyone nodded in unison.

“...” Ghost unwrapped the paper and saw the word ‘midnight’ written in casual cursive. He handed the piece of paper over to Soap. “Oh you’ve got to be shittin’ me,” Soap grunted, dissatisfied with having gotten the midnight shift—at least he could drift off during his shift, probably.

Price nodded toward Gaz; they both shared a look of understanding. Having the morning shift would suit their schedules, so they weren’t complaining. 

“Now that we’re each assigned to a shift, we can start.”

And that is what the three men had been doing up until now. Gaz walked into the surveillance room by himself, ”I couldn’t catch a blink of sleep” , in his words. Now the man was propped on one of his arms on the chair, sipping on his piping hot cup of tea. Ghost sat in one of the office chairs and had his arms splayed out on his thighs as he loosely concentrated on the screens in front of him. 

They had found a method to breach your home security cameras; being the smart cookie you were, you had different passwords set up for various cameras. However, that proved defenceless against a group of knowledgeable soldiers and a white hat hacker. Your passwords were decoded in a matter of 30 minutes. 

You had been seemingly trying to make yourself some food for a while now; it took you pacing around the kitchen for a solid 15 minutes, nibbling on snacks from time to time, to finally decide on making pasta. And it took another 10 minutes for you to dig out the ingredients because you had forgotten where most of them were before you finally got to the cooking. Watching you work on the stove was a whole drama; it felt like he was sitting in front of his tv watching a sitcom on a Sunday afternoon.

“Oh you son of a bitch—” you smacked your hand down on the table; stubbing your toe will never be a good feeling, just like getting a paper cut, which is precisely what happened when you tried to dig out a stack of papers that contained your family recipes, having gone through the pages way too fast you got a slick cut in-between the conjunction of your thumb and index finger. So it was safe to say you were not having a good day. Or, well, midnight.

You always started your day at exactly 5:00 a.m. every day, never once sleeping in, even on the weekend. 

It was strange to Ghost—your routine, that is. To him, your daily routine for the past week had been the polar opposite of his. You’d go to bed, sleep, and sometimes wake up to fetch yourself snacks before falling asleep to a cheesy rom-com playing on your laptop in your living room. But he also found out that you both enjoyed the same show and even the same tea. You even had a boxing setup in your basement—sometimes, he’d catch you waking up at ungodly hours in the morning to deck it out on the punching bag. 

From what he observed, you were far from being an amateur fighter. No, your technique was spot-on, as well as your posture. Though, he couldn’t place any more judgment considering you were up against an inanimate object; things would be drastically different if you had been punching it out with a trained fighter.

He wondered if you’d fare well against him in a fight. 

The first time he got into an embarrassing moment with his comrade, was when you had just finished your training session in the basement. He had turned away from the surveillance screens to arrange a few papers that were still scattered on the table, and right when he did so; he heard the sound of the shower being turned on. And in an unfortunate timing between you entering the shower, Ghost turning around in curiosity as to what the source of the sound came from, Soap entered the room to deliver the fresh cup of tea he fetched for Ghost. 

It looked as though he had been caught red-handed, watching you showering, naked on display. 

Ghost quickly averted his eyes; they landed on the man standing in the doorway—shock, amusement, and interest written across Soap’s features. Ghost immediately switched the bathroom camera off in one fluid motion. 

They never spoke of that incident ever since.

It was another night of surveillance duty; Soap had not attended for that night. It turned out Soap had been feeling under the weather, “Staying up ‘from midnight ‘till noon is making me develop some unknown sickness, Ghost.” in his words. However, Ghost couldn’t be bothered to call his comrade out on his bullshit, so he let him be asleep for one night.

Ghost sighed and relaxed his posture in the chair at the memory, taking another sip out of his tea. He watched as you ultimately decided not to cook any more; the promise of making a quick serving of ramen died on your lips as you sighed in defeat. Instead, opening the refrigerator, you fished out a pint of  Ben and Jerry’s; Ghost’s eyebrow perked up as he zoomed into the pint in your hand and enhanced the resolution.

Milk and cookies flavoured.

He supposed the flavour wasn’t the worst. He cleared the format and returned to the original resolution, eyes tracking your every move as you grabbed a spoon from the utensil rack; walking back to your bedroom. Your footstep halted, turning around before you were a few steps away from leaving the kitchen; you grabbed a knife from the knife block and held it to your side as you continued to your destination. Ghost, now alerted, sat upright, elbow on the knee as he stroked his jaw at sight—he was confused but concerned at what would occur next now that a knife was in your hand.

You sat on your bed after entering your bedroom, stashing the flat, sharp object underneath your pillow. For the next hour or so, it seemed like nothing was happening; you had fallen asleep after finishing the pint, and a rom-com show was playing in the background at a low volume. That scenery continued for another half an hour; strangely enough, it soothed Ghost enough that he could feel his eyelids growing heavy by the second. He grew tired of constantly watching over someone else daily, especially at midnight. Finally, Ghost let himself drift into a small nap, his eyes closed and breathing slowed. 

And for the next couple of moments, it was all quiet.

—crash.

The sound of a broken glass pane could be heard, loud and angry, immediately snapping Ghost out of his short-lived slumber. 

“Fuck.”

You were rudely awoken by the sound of your room being broken into. As if on instinct, your hand reached out for the knife you had prepared, one for this exact situation. A figure dressed in black instantly locked eyes with you when you looked up at the window, and as you tried to rise from your mattress, the man lunged toward you, pinning his arms on yours—him having forgotten your legs existed, you seized the chance and knelt him in his crotch. He instantly let go of you, instead opted to move his hands over his crotch in a poor attempt the soothe the searing pain he felt; you wasted no time, plunging your knife deep into the side of his neck and slit across his skin. Blood splurted out from the now deceased man, you quickly took massive steps back, but blood still stained your pyjamas—it was your favourite pair, too.

You knew more men were quickly approaching your location, and the sounds of heavy footsteps thumped the ground they walked on. You gave your lips a lick and let out a scoff. Getting up from the bed, you reached out to your nightstand and found a handgun in one of your drawers—your baby; you gave it a light smooch before scurrying away from the scene.

Being fast on your feet, you managed to slip into the kitchen next to your bedroom. You took cover behind your kitchen island, a handgun held tightly in your hand as you prepared yourself to fight back. “Fucking savages…” you mumbled under your breath; despite the situation at hand, you were calm—controlled. 

Soon enough, men could be heard commenting on the bloody scene they found and their dead comrade. “Fuck. Michael is dead.” a croaky voice spoke up; he groaned in disapproval before you heard a loud thump hit the wall. It sounded like they had kicked their comrade’s body aside. You winced, pity now bubbling up your throat; you pushed the feeling back down, knowing the man had tried to take your life just a moment before. The sounds of your bedroom being flipped upside down were loud , to say the least. You weren’t at all pleased with how they were manhandling your items, but you had to be patient, can’t risk death for a couple of torn plushies. 

The footsteps were approaching even closer; you kept your breath steady, hands tightening to an impossible degree around the gun. As soon as you heard footsteps approaching to your left, you immediately kicked a leg out; catching the man approaching by surprise and toppled him over before you slid around his back, his neck locked in your arms in a death grip as you hit him in the head with the butt of your handgun. You quietly dragged his body behind the island, searching his pockets for anything useful.

You found his identification card; scanned it with your eyes before shoving it in your pocket you soon heard another pair of footsteps; as they approached, you attempted to execute the same non-lethal takedown you did on the previous man. You stuck your feet out, only this time, the man took notice and instantly shot at your feet—barely missing your skin by an inch. You retracted your feet and rose up from behind the island, gun aimed at the man’s shoulder and pulled the trigger before he could react quickly enough. 

The man let out a painful yelp, and his hand went up to clutch his wounded shoulder. Seeing a window of opportunity, you rounded the corner of the kitchen island and swiftly kicked his feet, successfully knocking him down to the ground; his gun slid out of his hand—now disarmed and helpless. 

But before you had the chance to finish your job, more footsteps were approaching—two men appeared in your doorway as they stared at you, seemingly in shock at the scenery in front of them. You took their moment of vulnerability and raised your gun, taking a shot at the leg of the man on the left. He moaned in pain as he knelt down, clenching his teeth and holding his thigh in pain. His comrade looked over at him for a split second, and his mind conflicted—either he helped his comrade, or he shot you to death. And in that split second, you tried to launch yourself at the man but felt a hand tug at your ankle; instantly dropping you down to the ground, you greeted your teeth at the disadvantageous position you were in. As the man came to his senses and raised his gun to shoot at you, your foot collided with the face of the man that grabbed you, making him lose his grip on your ankle. Rolling to the side, you barely dodged the bullets that would’ve nailed themselves in your skull and declared you dead.

Your heart rate picked up tremendously, adrenaline pumping through your bloodstream, having just avoided death itself. “ You fucking bitch ,” were the words you heard before having the air knocked out of your lungs as you stumbled over and the feeling of the gun’s barrel being pressed into your side. In just a split second, you heard the gun go off.

Excruciating, sharp pain dominated every fibre of your being. You resisted the urge to scream, shout and cry in agony as you turned around; you slammed your side into the man, catching him by surprise as he fell over. 

Life or Death. 

You don’t get to dictate the life or death of someone.

But in that one second where the world around you slowed to barely a pause, you aimed your gun at the man now struggling to climb up; a clear goal in your mind: death .

When you came to your senses again, you were on your arms and knees. Your hand, now weak, pressed into the gunshot wound to your side. A pool of blood collected beneath you, his and yours, further staining your pyjamas. 

You have forgotten how much blood a human body contains.

Now that you were basically swimming in a puddle of it, you turned around and peered over at the two men that tried to get at you, who were now nothing but bodies surrounded by their own puddles. Your breath started to hitch, and the pain had only gotten worse as every second passed by; you knew you had to fight for your life, to stay up, no matter how much you wanted to tear open your wound and gnaw at the bullet that pierced your skin. You crawled your way to the kitchen island, finding a purchase of the marbled surface as you attempted to climb up. 

It seemed as though you had also forgotten how fragile a human body could be. Your fingers merely slipped from the island, painting the side vintage red with your blood; you stared at it in absolute defeat.

“Hey, been wanting to paint that in a while.” 

Even whilst looking at death in the eyes, you somehow found solace in the pain. 

Your body had weakened over the time you tried to save yourself, collapsing on the floor; the smell of iron and death filled your senses. 

You had expected to last longer, knowing how persistent a human body can be when it’s near death. But you were exhausted; every ounce of your life had been drained before you were even dead. You only hoped someone would eventually scavenge your home and find the family recipes you stored in the cabinet after your death. 

A blinding light burned into your eyes, you tried to protect your eyesight with your arms, but you only flailed. The sound of helicopter blades cutting the air hung above your home, and shouts of men could be heard from the inside—if you weren’t dead before, you totally are now. If the comrades of the men in your home had come to retrieve your body, they’d have the time of their life at what they would discover upon entering the door.

In your very last moment, you heard someone barging through your front door; without having to turn your head, you felt his gaze on you; before he could reach you, though,

You succumbed to your very last senses.

[talenlee]

Do you think the Half-Life series of video games could be read as an allegory for the COVID-19 pandemic?

so in the purest sense, no; they can't be an allegory for the pandemic unless you believe the game was made in response to and accounting for the COVID-19 pandemic, and therefore, there is some form of time travel chicanery involved.

CAVE JOHNSON HERE, we've reversed the flow of time around one of our production centres, in order to make filing paperwork more efficient. When you're done in the chamber submit your progress report yesterday.

But in the more general sense as in, can you treat this fiction as a useful allegory for describing these other events, I mean, I'd want you to present to me how you're doing that reading? Because to me, I'm not remembering a point in the pandemic where I had to leap on a bouncy platform to shoot a baby in the back of the head, but 2020 was a wild time and I can understand us forgetting things.

I guess if I put thought to it, I could, and please, don't take this as criticism of your submission or suggestion, but if I had to try and construct, with my memory of Half-Life, the sequence of events, you have a experiment in a lab creating a breakout situation that is then terribly controlled, and predicates the appearance of a global control system that then has a police state that attacks people's fertility and attempts to pacify them through social controls, surveillance and drone strikes, and also it was never brought to a satisfying conclusion, and exactly one girl was there.

So like, that sounds like what Alex jones thinks the COVID-19 Pandemic was?

What's the sequence of events that invites the comparison, to you? What's your take on this and what you're seeing, because I obviously don't remember these games perfectly at all.

[denimbex1986]

'On October 30, 1938, Orson Welles (who would go on to write, direct and star in Citizen Kane, one of the greatest movies of all time) narrated a radio adaptation of H.G. Wells’ classic Martian-invasion novel, The War of the Worlds. The only problem was, Welles was a little too effective, a little too scary with his narration. The CBS Radio Network, a mainstay of American entertainment back then, received panic-stricken phone calls nonstop, from viewers who actually believed Martians had invaded our planet. A Midwestern sheriff wanted to pursue legal action against CBS because half his town had started running amok in the streets. It goes to show just how impactful a good radio dramatisation can be.

I was reminded of this little slice of radio history while listening to Audible’s superlative new adaptation of George Orwell’s dystopian novel1984. Written by Joe Wright, the adaptation features an original score co-written by Muse singer and lead guitarist Matthew Bellamy and composer Ilan Eshkeri, and performed by the London Metropolitan Orchestra. The all-star cast is led by Andrew Garfield and Cynthia Erivo as Winston and Julia, respectively, the young lovers whose relationship is also an act of rebellion against the all-seeing Big Brother and ‘the Party’. Andrew Scott (seen most recently in Netflix’s miniseries Ripley) is smooth and terrifying as Mr. O’Brien, Winston’s Party colleague who he suspects is secretly a part of the rebellious ‘Brotherhood’. And the inimitable Tom Hardy pitches in with a flawless cameo as the voice of Big Brother himself. The whole thing, at 200-odd minutes, is split up into seven parts.

Two things you’ll notice immediately about this adaptation — it is intensely cinematic and it takes considerable liberties with Orwell’s text. For example, Big Brother watching all of his citizens courtesy omnipresent TV screens is described as “surveillance” (a decidedly contemporary word) throughout by Garfield’s Winston. Generally speaking, the text is condensed in a way that minimises ‘third-party’ lines such as portions of police files, newspaper clippings, extracts from fictional texts and so on. The reason this works so well for this adaptation is because of the first point I mentioned: its intensely cinematic nature, thanks to Bellamy and Eshkeri’s superb original score. In almost every chapter, the score begins on an ambient, orchestral note and it keeps the sense of urgency rising with every minute, until the last one-third of every chapter signals paranoia and despair with every note of the music.

But really, this 1984 depends largely on the star power and stellar work put in by its A-list cast. Erivo, especially, is a revelation as Julia. Although I was familiar with her recent record on TV (HBO’s The Outsider is one of her home runs), this was the first time I heard her doing voice work, and she is incredible. The romance and lovemaking scenes between her and Garfield maintain a sense of fragility that is paramount to Orwell’s text.

Garfield’s big moments typically happen at the end of every chapter, when Winston is usually second-guessing the motives of Julia or his friends and colleagues, wondering whether one of them is secretly a part of the dreaded ‘Thought Police’. When he watches O’Brien during a public gathering, for instance, Winston swings wildly between pegging O’Brien as a member of the Brotherhood — and the polar opposite, his ‘day job’ as a member of the Party’s inner circles. See how the dialogue reflects this boomerang motion — Garfield’s work is cut out for him here and he expertly steers the audience between hope and hopelessness.

“I caught O’Brien’s eye. Just for a fraction of a second, but it was long enough to know. Yes, I know now O’Brien was thinking the same thing as me. I’m on your side, Winston. And just like that, it was gone. O’Brien’s face was as inscrutable as ever. Such a fleeting moment that I questioned whether it happened at all. But I know it did. And it keeps alive in me the hope that it isn’t just me…”

As the passage above shows, this is Orwell reimagined through contemporary, Netflix-era snappy dialogue. Purists might take exception to the wholesale cull of the original Orwell lines but for the purposes of a radio adaptation, I found the abridged version to be just right.

Audible’s 1984 provides a great starting point to this 20th century classic for beginners. I am quite sure that a significant portion of these listeners will go back and visit (or revisit, as the case may be) the original novel to expand their horizons.'

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts days 109-111

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Days 105-108 here

***

42. “Rough or gentle?”

59. “You want to come?” “Y-yes, I— please—” “Hm, but do you really deserve to?”

66. “You’ve got me all hot and bothered.”

67. “You don’t get to touch yourself until I say so.”

69. “Please let me come.”

91. “How do you want me to touch you?”

129. “I wanna eat you out so fucking bad.” “Then why don’t you?”

133. A whispered, “Then come for me,” right next to their ear after they beg for release through tears and soft whimpers, because they’ve been edged for way too long.

136. “No one does it like you.”

142. “Can’t— can’t you go faster than this?”

143. “You like messing with my head, don’t you?” “Only because it clearly turns you on.”

***

Despite his revulsion, the hours of recordings passed by, and before he expected it he reached the final files of material. Since he’d given himself more to review than Jason and Damian, they were done already and had moved on to other avenues of investigation.

The problem with human brains, even the best ones, was that they were incapable of truly multitasking. Tim could switch more rapidly than most between the open tabs in his mind, but when it came to surveillance review, the job required his full attention because it was too easy to tune out. So he sat at his desk at home listening to all the tawdry and cringe-worthy conversations and tried not to fall asleep.

“Oh, my goodness, you're so silly,” Katarina said in his earbuds, her own boredom coming through loud and clear even with the pounding bass in the background. Underneath the client's reply, a pair of male voices held a conversation nearby.

Tim sat up straight in his chair. Why in the hell hadn't he thought about isolating the audio of adjacent conversations before?

Cursing his own stupidity, he scrambled to capture the noise profiles of Katarina's conversation and remove it, then isolate the men's conversation and restore it to the track. It took some work with high-pass filters to get the bass out without removing the men's voices with it, but finally he could turn up the volume and hear most of what they said.

And there was Falcone's lieutenant Johnny Viti, talking about bases of operation.

"The one on Field Avenue near Mercy Bridge," he began, and Tim snatched his keyboard to begin typing frantic notes one-handed while yelling at his phone to call Damian.

It rang five times before a decidedly grumpy voice snapped out, "What," in greeting.

"I think we've got them!" Tim crowed, watching the auto-generated text feed across the screen. "I suddenly realized I can—"

"Drake, are you aware of the time?"

"No, no, Damian, you're not listening, I have to tell you about—" A long-suffering sigh directly into the phone cut him off. "Okay, fine, it's, uh . . ." He peered around, looking for a clock display on any of the screens around him.

Some of the irritation in Damian's voice smoothed into something gentler. "Look at your phone."

Tim did so, then cringed. Five forty-five. "Oh, hell. I'm so sorry. You've only got like half an hour before you have to get up for work."

A breath of laughter. "A little longer than that, since I won't be going into the office today." Tim's silence must have betrayed his confusion, because Damian clarified, "It's Sunday."

Meaning, his one day this week to truly sleep in. Tim cringed harder. "Shit. I was just really excited and I forgot to check. I'll let you go."

"There's no need." Damian's sheets rustled in the background. "I'm awake now, and I'd like to hear it."

"Are you sure?" Tim paused the recording.

A quiet grunt, the type that usually accompanied Damian stretching. "Yes."

Tim brightened. "Okay! So I was listening to the last hour of Katarina's recordings."

Damian listened to the explanation and the new information in silence, then said, "That's excellent work. You've just given us a huge step forward."

A tidal wave of heat flooded Tim's entire body. He went rigid, trying to process it and figure out the reason.

Oblivious, Damian continued, "I imagine you'll discover even more vital information as you review the previous recordings. You should take yourself off the patrol rota for the next week so you can devote yourself fully to the task. I know you won't be able to focus on anything else in any case. Not until it's done. And no one does it like you."

That had to be a record for the highest number of positive things Damian had ever said about Tim in a single sitting. Tim opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. His heart pounded in his throat, immobilizing his vocal cords.

"Are you still there?"

Fuck. He had to say something. Something that didn't acknowledge the extremely weird boner situation currently happening.

Tim clicked his mouth shut, cleared his throat, then finally managed to spit out, "I, uh. I." His gut churned, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. "I. Thank . . . you?"

Amusement colored Damian's tone. "You're unsure?"

"No. It's just . . . um. I'm." Tim swallowed and rolled his eyes at himself. "This is embarrassing, but I'm really—” Shit. Maybe he could joke this away. “You've got me all hot and bothered."

This resulted in a long pause, during which Tim alternated between wishing for a quick death and wanting to grope himself. Finally, Damian said, "May I ask why?"

If the words hadn't been rough with clear arousal, Tim would've lost courage. As it was, his hand dropped to the growing hard-on tenting his pants and he rocked against it. "You know. Robin curse. You said nice things about me and now I'm—" He cut himself off with a whimper as his zipper pressed into the sensitive skin. It didn't hurt, precisely, but it wasn't comfortable either. "Plus it's been like a week."

"Turn on your video."

Tim tapped the video icon and propped up the phone where the camera could get a better view. Damian appeared onscreen as he got it situated. He sat propped against his pillows, shirtless, just a gauze pad over the bullet wound now. A flush darkened the skin at the base of his neck. The bulge of his cock grew beneath his underwear even while Tim watched.

"Let me see you."

Tim obediently unzipped his pants and shoved down his underwear to free his erection, sighing in relief. His fingers moved toward his dick, but Damian said, "Wait."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Damian folded his lips inward so tightly they disappeared, then said, "You don't get to touch yourself until I say so."

Tim groaned in protest, but decided to play along and moved his hand back to the armrest of his chair. Damian's eyes glittered with satisfaction. He lifted his hips and angled off his own underwear.

"Very good." He smirked as Tim's cock twitched at the words. "You may, however, watch me to your heart's content." His fingers wrapped around his erection and began to stroke at a leisurely pace, guaranteed to be insufficient for orgasm purposes.

Tim's mouth watered; he swallowed and clutched the chair tighter. “Can’t—can’t you go faster than this?”

"I could." Damian slowed, foreskin slipping back and forth over the head in a tease that had Tim squirming in his seat. "But where would the fun be in that?"

Damn. He'd always been a fast learner. “You like messing with my head, don’t you?”

"Only because it clearly turns you on."

Well, Tim couldn't argue with that. The evidence was currently throbbing in full view of Damian's gaze, intense as ever despite the studied relaxation evident in the rest of his body.

Damian leaned further back so that Tim could see farther down. Tim bit his lip at the sight. Sometimes he just had to internally revel in how fucking sexy Damian's body was in particular. Smooth brown skin with generous, well-groomed body hair, the scars telling the tale of the violence he'd endured and inflicted, powerful thighs, balls hanging heavy between his legs, abs currently tensing and smoothing out as he caressed himself, clearly outlined pecs doing the same while his arm moved—everything about him seemed to be designed to drive Tim wild.

"God, Dami. I'm gonna die if I don't get to touch you soon." His voice was too raw, too honest, but for once he couldn't make himself care. His cock ached, desperate for stimulation.

"I want you to touch me too." Damian tilted his head back and sped up the slightest bit. His other hand fondled his balls, then slipped lower so he could press at his perineum.

Tim grabbed at his own thighs, rocking back and forth as Damian moaned, his fingers rubbing tiny circles just above his hole while the hand on his dick moved faster. "Oh my God." Dimly, he recognized how pathetic he sounded, but that was secondary to what was happening on his phone screen. "How do you want me to touch you? Rough or gentle?"

Damian shuddered. He stopped moving, chest heaving as he gasped for air. "I—I don't know. I want whatever you want to give me."

"Oh, fuck." Tim dug his nails into his skin.

Damian's hand started stripping his cock again, this time with purpose. His feet drew up flat on the mattress, legs spreading so Tim had a clearer view. "Please," he panted.

"I wanna eat you out so fucking bad," Tim blurted. Precome beaded at the tip of his cock and dripped down onto his pants. He didn't care. He wanted Damian to come worse than he wanted to take care of himself.

Damian whimpered, fingertips massaging the tender skin at his entrance. "Then why don't you?"

Tim shivered at the thought. "You'd let me?"

"There's not much I wouldn't let you do to me," Damian gritted out between his teeth. The hand on his cock twisted on the upstroke, rubbing with single-minded impetus. "I—I'm going to come. Fuck."

Tim leaned forward, clutching his chair. "Yeah? C'mon, sweetheart, I wanna see."

Damian arched up, groaning, and spurted all over his torso, glistening drops spread all the way to his neck as he found his release. Tim watched avidly, an echo of Damian's onscreen pleasure reverberating through his own nerve endings.

Damian breathed out, settling deeper into his pillows, and turned his sleepy gaze toward his camera again.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me," Tim half-joked.

"No. Not yet. You want to come?"

Tim nodded like a marionette on its strings, hands spasming near his cock, which was rapidly leaving "aching" territory behind for "real pain." “Y-yes, I—please let me come—”

"Hm, but do you really deserve to?" A tiny smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. "You did wake me up, after all."

One part of Tim's brain recognized that he could put a stop to this at any moment, just grab himself and finish, but he was having too much fun to let that part take over. Another, sizable portion of it felt like if Damian didn't give him permission to orgasm he would have to go die of blue balls and hurt feelings like a wounded animal. The rest wrestled with the actual question, too overwhelmed with lust to find the right answer.

"I don't know if I deserve to," he finally whispered.

The smile faded, but Damian's gaze softened into indulgent affection, unmistakable and rare. "You do. Of course you do. Go ahead, come for me."

Moaning in relief, Tim grasped his cock and came embarrassingly fast, so hard that his muscles protested afterward like he'd pushed himself too much during a workout.

When his vision cleared, he saw Damian's face close to the screen. He picked up the phone to do the same. "Hey."

Damian's eyebrows swooped down in petulance. "I do not care for sleeping separately. It's highly inconvenient."

Now that he'd come, a different sort of ache lodged in Tim's chest. This was the drawback of virtual sex—the lack of post coital cuddling. He'd gotten spoiled while he stayed at the Manor, being able to touch Damian almost whenever he wanted. "Yeah, I actually kind of hate it."

Damian looked down, like he couldn't bear to see his own face at the moment. "Well. I certainly won't be able to sleep now. I might as well drive to the Nest and assist you in cleaning the remainder of the audio tracks."

That ache in Tim's chest swelled past the boundaries of his ribcage until it suffused every cell in his body. "I think that would definitely be the best use of your time."

Damian's cheekbones pinkened, but his expression remained austere. "Very well. I'll see you soon."

"Can't wait," Tim replied, and barely managed to hang up before laughing with sheer happiness.

days 112-117 here

[scorbleeo]

Book Chat: Illuminae

The Illuminae Files (Book 1) by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff

Source: Google Images

Kady thought breaking up with Ezra was the worst thing she'd ever been through. That was before her planet was invaded. Now, with enemy fire raining down on them, Kady and Ezra are forced to fight their way onto one of the evacuating craft, with an enemy warship in hot pursuit.

But the warship could be the least of their problems. A deadly plague has broken out and is mutating, with terrifying results; the fleet's AI, which should be protecting them, may actually be their biggest threat; and nobody in charge will say what's really going on. As Kady plunges into a web of data hacking to get to the truth, it's clear only one person can help her bring it all to light: Ezra.

ISBN: 9781780748375 (2015) | Source: Goodreads

Reading A Movie Indeed

Illuminae really was a science fiction film written into a book, literally. It's written in IM conversations, camera surveillance, official reports, emails and programming. This is a one of a kind book.

Getting into this book was not as easy as I thought it would be considering I was reading reports and IM conversations. It took about a hundred pages before I was used to the writing style. Afterwards, it took what happened with the Alexander for me to read nonstop until I finished it.

To be honest, Illuminae's storyline is typical. Invasion attack, outbreak attack, kamikaze moves and a sort of cliffhanger ending. If not for the unique writing style and our two main characters, I actually don't see anyone raving about the book.

That being said, yes, the storyline was mediocre as of the end of Illuminae. However, the characters appeared were something else. The writing style of this book made it very easy to bond with both Kady and Ezra. So easy that when Kady found Jimmy, I teared. When Kady sent the files related to her mother (who never actually appeared in the book) to Ezra, I teared up. So, so easy that despite the captain of Alexander being such a typical asshole, his ending also stabbed my heart a little.

Which brings me on to AIDAN. Watching sci-fi shows where the AI goes rogue is nothing, but reading an AI go "rogue" in the AI's POV was creepy (and I am rarely creeped out when I read). And that twist with AIDAN and Ezra? Oh my goodness, I saw so much coming except that twist which made the reading experience even more fun.

All in all, I hate that it took me so long to read Illuminae and if ever there is going to be a movie, I just pray they will follow exactly how the book went.

Rating: ★★★★☆

[rockislandadultreads]

Hot Summer Reads: Fiction Recommendations

In the Lives of Puppets by T.J. Klune

In a strange little home built into the branches of a grove of trees, live three robots--fatherly inventor android Giovanni Lawson, a pleasantly sadistic nurse machine, and a small vacuum desperate for love and attention. Victor Lawson, a human, lives there too. They're a family, hidden and safe.

The day Vic salvages and repairs an unfamiliar android labelled "HAP," he learns of a shared dark past between Hap and Gio-a past spent hunting humans.

When Hap unwittingly alerts robots from Gio's former life to their whereabouts, the family is no longer hidden and safe. Gio is captured and taken back to his old laboratory in the City of Electric Dreams. So together, the rest of Vic's assembled family must journey across an unforgiving and otherworldly country to rescue Gio from decommission, or worse, reprogramming.

Along the way to save Gio, amid conflicted feelings of betrayal and affection for Hap, Vic must decide for himself: Can he accept love with strings attached?

Rogue Justice by Stacey Abrams 

Avery Keene is back, trying to get her feet on solid ground after unraveling a conspiracy that took down the President of the United States in While Justice Sleeps. But as the sparks of impeachment hearings and political skirmishes swirl around her, Avery is approached at a legal conference by Preston Davies, an unassuming young man and fellow law clerk to a federal judge in Idaho. Davies believes his boss, Judge Francesca Whitner, was being blackmailed in the days before she recently took her own life, and he gives Avery a file, a burner phone, and a fearful warning that there are highly dangerous people involved. Moments later, Avery is shocked when she witnesses Davies being murdered.

After breaking the encrypted file Davies gave to her, Avery reveals a list of names--all federal judges--and, alarmingly, all judges on the FISA Court (the United States Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court), also known as America's secret court. It is this body that grants permission to the government to wiretap American individuals or corporations suspected of terrorism. Avery knows Judge Whitner had been extorted, but as she investigates the names and cases associated with other judges on the list she begins to see a frightening pattern--and she worries that something far more sinister may be unfolding.

This is the second volume in the “Avery Keene” series.

The Nigerwife by Vanessa Walters 

Nicole Oruwari has the perfect life: a handsome husband, a palatial house in the heart of glittering Lagos, Nigeria, and a glamorous group of friends. She left gloomy London and a dark family past behind for sunny, moneyed Lagos, becoming part of the Nigerwives—a community of foreign women married to wealthy Nigerian men.

But when Nicole disappears without a trace after a boat trip, the cracks in her so-called perfect life start to show. As the investigation turns up nothing but dead ends, her Auntie Claudine decides to take matters into her own hands. Armed with only a cell phone and a plane ticket to Nigeria, she digs into her niece’s life and uncovers a hidden side filled with dark secrets, isolation, and even violence. But the more she discovers about her niece, the more Claudine’s own buried history threatens to come to light.

The Half Moon by Mary Beth Keane

Malcolm Gephardt, handsome and gregarious longtime bartender at the Half Moon, has always dreamed of owning a bar. When his boss finally retires, Malcolm stretches to buy the place. He sees unquantifiable magic and potential in the Half Moon and hopes to transform it into a bigger success, but struggles to stay afloat.

His smart and confident wife, Jess, has devoted herself to her law career. After years of trying for a baby, she is facing the idea that motherhood may not be in the cards for her. Like Malcolm, she feels her youth beginning to slip away and wonders how to reshape her future.

Award-winning author Mary Beth Keane’s new novel takes place over the course of one week when Malcolm learns shocking news about Jess, a patron of the bar goes missing, and a blizzard hits the town of Gillam, trapping everyone in place. With a deft eye and generous spirit, Keane explores the disappointments and unexpected consolations of midlife, the many forms forgiveness can take, the complicated intimacy of small-town living, and what it means to be a family.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

TODAY (July 14), I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! NEXT SATURDAY (July 20), I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

#20yrsago RIAA’s INDUCE Act letter deconstructed https://corante.com/importance/the-excessively-annotated-riaa-letter-on-the-induce-act-iica/

#20yrsago Lou Reed wants remixes https://web.archive.org/web/20040804104424/https://www.billboard.com/bb/daily/article_display.jsp?vnu_content_id=1000577588

#20yrsago ICANN emancipate domain owners from scummy registrars https://web.archive.org/web/20040722061910/http://www.byte.org/blog/_archives/2004/7/14/105552.html

#20yrsago Disney’s $80 million mistake: Fahrenheit 911 https://web.archive.org/web/20040804183640/https://www.technicianonline.com/story.php?id=009702

#20yrsago Druid busted for possession of a sword https://mg.co.za/article/2004-07-13-swordpacking-druid-appears-in-court/

#15yrsago Michael Jackson didn’t sell 750 million records https://www.wsj.com/articles/SB124760651612341407

#15yrsago Phones confiscated at preview screenings: whose hypothetical risk is more important? https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2009/jul/14/mobile-phones-and-movie-security

#15yrsago Visa claims teen spent $23,148,855,308,184,500.00 on prepaid credit card https://web.archive.org/web/20090716125509/https://consumerist.com/5314246/unruly-teen-charges-23-quadrillion-at-drugstore

#10yrsago Freedom of info funnies: CIA cafeteria complaints https://www.muckrock.com/news/archives/2014/jul/14/doc-note-cia-cafeteria-complaints/

#10yrsago Economist examines empirical evidence of file-sharing on box-office revenue https://web.archive.org/web/20140816180401/http://conference.nber.org/confer/2014/SI2014/PRIT/Strumpf.pdf

#10yrsago Understanding #DRIP: new spy powers being rammed through UK Parliament https://web.archive.org/web/20140711071612/https://www.openrightsgroup.org/campaigns/no-emergency-stop-the-data-retention-stitch-up

#10yrsago Tesla’s “car-as-service” versus your right to see your data https://appliedabstractions.com/2014/07/14/elon-i-want-my-data/

#10yrsago Scalia may have opened path for Quakers to abstain from taxes https://www.salon.com/2014/07/14/scalias_major_screw_up_how_scotus_just_gave_liberals_a_huge_gift/

#10yrsago Unions considered helpful (economically) https://stumblingandmumbling.typepad.com/stumbling_and_mumbling/2014/07/unions-productivity-.html

#10yrsago Hearings into mass surveillance begin in UK https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2014/jul/14/court-gchq-surveillance-tempora-ipt-nsa-snowden

#10yrsago Everyone hates the NSA: survey https://web.archive.org/web/20140715012054/http://www.pewglobal.org/2014/07/14/nsa-opinion/table/country-citizens/

#10yrsago GCHQ’s black bag of dirty hacking tricks revealed https://web.archive.org/web/20140714190448/https://firstlook.org/theintercept/2014/07/14/manipulating-online-polls-ways-british-spies-seek-control-internet/

#10yrsago Snowden: #DRIP “defies belief,” could have been dreamed up by NSA https://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/jul/13/edward-snowden-condemns-britain-emergency-surveillance-bill-nsa

#5yrsago Florida DMV makes millions selling Floridians’ data…for pennies (and you can’t opt out) https://www.wxyz.com/news/national/florida-is-selling-drivers-personal-information-to-private-companies-and-marketing-firms

#5yrsago #TelegramGate: leaks show Puerto Rico’s appointed officials mocking the dead as hurricanes devastate the island https://web.archive.org/web/20190714004011/https://abcnews.go.com/International/wireStory/puerto-rican-chief-financial-officer-resigns-chat-scandal-64318436

#1yrago Why they're smearing Lina Khan https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/14/making-good-trouble/#the-peoples-champion

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

[ramrodd]

The Gospels REALLY Changed Jesus!

COMMENTARY:

Dennis MacDonald is almost exactly correct. First of all, I cannot begin to express how delighted I am with Dennis MacDonald's and Robyn Walsh's thesis that the Gospels, generally, and the Gospel of Mark, in particular, are a literary project. It has been my growing conviction since 2013 or so, when I retired and got a laptop and began seriously researching the proposition that Cornelius is the author of the Gosple of Mark and the currator of Quelle, that an editoral board began shaping the Gospels from the get-go, with Saint Mark of Alexandria the publishers of 90% of the manuscripts we have from before Constantine. And I am particularly delighted with this particular exploration of the relationship between Jesus and Socrates. I came to the opinion during that period that Jesus was referring to Socrates cup of hemlock in Mark 14:39, but have kept it to myself because both Apologists and Jesus Seminar trolls would counter that He was refering to Jerimiah and Psalms and dismiss the connection. I personally lack the horsepower in terms of scholarship to bring the point home. Denis MacDonald has changed that equation,

The cup and the cross both represent instruments of the secular rule of law and, going back to Romulus the king, violence as an instrument of state. Socrates represents the paradigm shift from the aesthetic of the Heroic man's duty to the Gods to the ethic of Western civilizaation of man's duty to man.  Socrates was convicted for corrupting the youth with this heresy.

In terms of N.T. Wright's version of Pauline Theology and Hebrews, Jesus was sent to affirm and validate Socrates submission to the rule of law, first with the Law of Moses, then the secular rule of law of the Roman Republic and the separation of church and state it represents. With the exceptin of Richard Carrier, who was in the Coast Guard, and Jimmy Tabor, who was an Air Force brat, you have the most military experience of anybody in your MythVision community and Bart “Giggles” Ehrman's Chapel Hill feifdom.

Yon know what a Command Sergeant Major like Tim Walz is.

Cornelius was Pilate's Command Sergeant Major and he was either seconded from the Italian Regiment  by Sejanus or  requested this position as his final duty station before retiring, which was common with the Praetorian Guard. He could have stayed in Rome as a supernumerary, but he had achieved his climax plateau at that post and wanted to be in charge. He wasn't an operational CSM, generally, but was Pilate's Chief of Staff and head of administration.

The 10th Legon was under his inspection but not his command and he became the currator for Quelle, which was the intelligence archives of the 10th Legion that included the rounine surveillance files on John the Baptist before Jesus took command of the movment at His baptism.

And at least 3 years before His arrest. Bart “Giggles” Ehrman’s assertion that the Gospel of Mark is derivative of Pauline Theology is time travel acience fiction   Like the Gospel writers, Josephus took his portrait of John the Baptist from Quelle. He grew up with the 10th Legion, probably suffendered to them and hung out with them during the investment and reduction of Jerusalem

In the Greek manuscripts, εὐθὺς  defines the contours of Quelle in the Gospels and Acts and is a Roman intelligence apparatus that I translate as an “eye witness” foot note, although it may have had a more precise meaning in the original Latin authograph of Cornelius. The one thing that Dr. Fredrifson can be assured of, historically, is that Cornelius was in the room with Pilate during Jesus's interrogation and he conducted the investigation of the circumstances conatined in the Gospel of Peter and the euangelion of Mark 1:1, Acts 15:7 and 10 times in the Epistles. It is important to remember that the centurion and 16 soldiers assigned to defend the tomb were subject to captial punisment for losing the body of Jesus undter the strictures of habaes corpus of the authority to which the centurion in Matthew 8 and Luke 7 refers that astonishes Jesus. In that regards, most of the reported words of people throughout the Biblical narrative  are transliterations of the original emotional response to a presenting stimulus. In the case of the centurion in Mark 15:39, his first Pucker Factor response was “Oops!”

[jcmarchi]

Palantir and Microsoft partner to provide AI services to government

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/palantir-and-microsoft-partner-to-provide-ai-services-to-government/

Palantir and Microsoft partner to provide AI services to government

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Palantir, a data analytics company known for its work in the defence and intelligence sectors, has announced a significant partnership with Microsoft. The collaboration aims to deliver advanced services for classified networks utilised by US defence and intelligence agencies.

According to the recent announcement, Palantir is integrating Microsoft’s cutting-edge large language models via the Azure OpenAI Service into its AI platforms. The integration will occur within Microsoft’s government and classified cloud environments. As this collaboration is the first of its kind, this specific configuration has the potential to completely transform the use of AI in critical national security missions.

Palantir, whose name draws inspiration from the potentially misleading “seeing-stones” in J.R.R. Tolkien’s fictional works, specialises in processing and analysing vast quantities of data to assist governments and corporations with surveillance and decision-making tasks. While the precise nature of the services to be offered through this partnership remains somewhat ambiguous, it is clear that Palantir’s products will be integrated into Microsoft’s Azure cloud services. This development follows Azure’s previous incorporation of OpenAI’s GPT-4 technology into a “top secret” version of its software.

The company’s journey is notable. Co-founded by Peter Thiel and initially funded by In-Q-Tel, the CIA’s venture capital arm, Palantir has grown to serve a diverse clientele. Its roster includes government agencies such as Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and various police departments, as well as private sector giants like the pharmaceutical company Sanofi. Palantir has also become deeply involved in supporting Ukraine’s war efforts, with reports suggesting its software may be utilised in targeting decisions for military operations.

Even though Palantir has operated with a large customer base for years, it only reached its first annual profit in 2023. However, with the current surge of interest in AI, the company has been able to grow rapidly, particularly in the commercial sector. According to Bloomberg, Palantir’s CEO, Alex Karp, warned that Palantir’s “commercial business is exploding in a way we don’t know how to handle.”

Despite the urgency of this mission, the company’s annual filing clearly states that it neither does business with nor on behalf of the Chinese Communist Party, nor does it plan to do so. This indicates that Palantir is especially careful in developing its customer base, considering the geopolitical implications of its work.

The announcement of this partnership has been well-received by investors, with Palantir’s share price surging more than 75 per cent in 2024 as of the time of writing. This dramatic increase reflects the market’s optimism about the potential of AI in national security applications and Palantir’s position at the forefront of this field.

Still, the partnership between Palantir and Microsoft raises significant questions about the role of AI in national security and surveillance. This is no surprise, as these are particularly sensitive areas, and the development of new technologies could potentially transform the sector forever.

More discussions and investigations are needed to understand the ethical implications of implementing these innovative tools. All things considered, the Palantir and Microsoft partnership is a significant event that will likely shape the future use of AI technologies and cloud computing in areas such as intelligence and defence.

(Photo by Katie Moum)

See also: Paige and Microsoft unveil next-gen AI models for cancer diagnosis

Want to learn more about AI and big data from industry leaders? Check out AI & Big Data Expo taking place in Amsterdam, California, and London. The comprehensive event is co-located with other leading events including Intelligent Automation Conference, BlockX, Digital Transformation Week, and Cyber Security & Cloud Expo.

Explore other upcoming enterprise technology events and webinars powered by TechForge here.

Tags: artificial intelligence, cloud, llm, microsoft

[24hrsallnews]

Best Hacking movies on Netflix in hindi dubbed 2024

We will read about, "Best Hacking movies on Netflix in hindi dubbed 2024." Netflix stands as a prominent OTT giant, offering a wide array of web series and movies across various genres. The buzz and fervor surrounding the Best Hacking Movies on Netflix is currently reaching its pinnacle. There are many blockbuster movies available on Netflix, and the basic plan of Netflix is Rs 199. In this article, we will delve into the top picks for the Best Hacking Movies available on Netflix.  

Best Hacking movies on Netflix in hindi dubbed 2024

The Matrix

There have been 4 films in the Matrix franchise, released from 1999 to 2021. The Matrix story falls under the cyber punk and media franchise which you can watch on Netflix. The film takes you through a world of computer hacker Neo that reveals shocking truths about the world. The film is directed by The Wachowskis, Produced by Joel Silver under Village Roadshow Pictures, Warner Bros. Entertainment. In the Matrix you will see many fictional characters, like Neo, Morpheus, Agent Smith, Trinity and many more. In addition to cyberpunk, martial arts films, action, and adventure movies will also be featured in the movie.   The Social Network The Social Network is an American biographical drama film directed by David Fincher. Ben Mezrich is the inspiration of the film The Accidental Billionaires. This is not a straight-to-the-point hacker film; rather, it is based on Mark Zuckerberg's programming abilities and the early days of Facebook. The film stars Jesse Eisenberg as "Mark Zuckerberg", Joseph Mazzello as "Dustin Moskovitz", Andrew Garfield as "Eduardo Saverin" and many others. The film is a real life and inspirational film that will give you a chance to learn about entrepreneurs as well. The Social Network movie can be viewed on Netflix with Hindi audio.   Snowden

Snowden is a biographical thriller film directed by Oliver Stone. The film is based on Luke Harding's The Snowden Files and Anatoly Kucherena's Time of the Octopus. The story of the film is based on the NSA whistleblower and his revelations about global surveillance programs. The movie is an authentic, complex, gripping spy story and drama. The film's cast includes Joseph Gordon-Levitt as "Edward Snowden", Shailene Woodley as "Lindsay Mills", Melissa Leo as "Laura Poitras", Timothy Olyphant as "CIA Officer Geneva" and many others. This suspenseful tale follows Edward Snowden from recruit in the Army to disillusioned government analyst determined to expose extensive U.S. surveillance programs.   The Great Hack

The Great Hack is a documentary film directed by Karim Amer, Jehane Noujaim. The movie delves into the Facebook-Cambridge Analytica data scandal, shedding light on the negative aspects of social media. The thrill following the viewing of the film is overwhelming, as it promises a unique and eye-opening experience. The film stars Carole Cadwalladr, David Carroll, Brittany Kaiser, Ravi Naik, Julian Wheatland, Carole Cadwalladr and many others. The Great Hack movie gained attention upon its release.   Blackhat

Michael Mann directed the action thriller Blackhat, featuring Chris Hemsworth as Nicholas Hathaway, a convicted computer hacker involved in a cybercrime investigation. The film's narrative In exchange for his freedom, an imprisoned hacker pledges to assist government authorities in locating the terrorist responsible for a nuclear power plant disaster. The film stars Chris Hemsworth, Tang Wei, Viola Davis, Ritchie Coster, Holt McCallany, Yorick van Wageningen, Wang Leehom and many others.   Who Am I Who Am I film is going to be a German techno-thriller film directed by Baran bo Odar. Official plotline of movie, "A young Pastor leads a church in an active city. When a new woman joins his church, he soon learns that her past was one of drugs, racism, rejection, theft and human trafficking. As he helps her, people from her past begin to resurface, and the endeavor to help each of them through personal trials, including teen pregnancy, abortion and suicide." The film stars Tom Schilling, Elyas M'Barek, Hannah Herzsprung, Wotan Wilke Möhring and many others.   The Takeover The Takeover Movie is a follow-up on Mel Bandison, an ethical hacker. Bandison hacks a criminal hacker and hands him over to the police. Mel Bandison one day dismantles a high-tech bus and disarms an international criminal network. Mel Bandison is then convicted of murder, and the police also pursue her. The film has a running time of 88 minutes and is available on Netflix in English, Hindi and Dutch. The Takeover film is an action-thriller directed by Annemarie van de Mond. The Takeover movie stars Holly Mae Brood (Mel Bandison), Geza Weisz (Thomas Deen), Frank Lammers (Buddy), Noortje Herlaar (Linde Van), and another notable cast.   Kannum Kannum Kollaiyadithaal

Kannum Kannum Kollaiyadithaal is a romantic comedy film directed by Desingh Periyasamy. Official plotline in movie, "Two wily online scammers mend their fraudulent ways after meeting the girls of their dreams — until a deceitful discovery throws their world for a loop." The film stars Dulquer Salmaan, Ritu Varma, Rakshan, Niranjani Ahathian  and many others. The film is produced by Anto Joseph, Viacom 18 Studios.   Untraceable Untraceable is an American psychological thriller film directed by Gregory Hoblit. When a brutal killer begins murdering on live stream, teams of FBI agents race to find the killer and find the same one before the next live stream begins. The film stars Diane Lane, Billy Burke, Colin Hanks, Joseph Cross, Mary Beth Hurt and many others. The film is packed with thrills, offering proper entertainment and a gripping sense of suspense. Immerse yourself in an extraordinary marathon of the best hacking movies on Netflix, featuring the top films presented for your viewing pleasure. Begin watching now and experience limitless entertainment! Prepare yourself for an incredible cinematic experience that is about to happen.   Read More - Sudheer Babu is set to release a Supernatural Mystery Thriller movie - The ultimate guide to Tillu Square: A must-watch film for romantic crime comedy fanatics - The initial glimpse of Vijayashanthi in NKR21 has been revealed - HBD Nikhil Siddhartha: Team Swayambhu wishes a very happy birthday to the young and extremely talented Nikhil - Vijay Sethupathi discusses his 50th film Maharaja - brilliant and simple - Gurmeet Choudhary in an all action avatar in Commander Karan Saxena - An announcement is made regarding the new bilingual film of Shiva Rajkumar - Kritika Kamra has been cast in Vijay Varma's forthcoming series Matka King - Atlee is planning the biggest-ever multistarrer with Rajinikanth and Salman Khan - 'Bachchla Malli' by Allari Naresh is a modern action movie Read the full article

[shadowtechteller]

Sweet Deception: Honey Traps & Hidden Backdoors in Cybersecurity

In the high-stakes game of digital espionage that unfurls within the pages of my novels, characters navigate a world rife with hacking, cyberattacks, and covert channels into supposedly secure systems. Beyond the adrenaline-amped fiction, these elements draw alarming parallels to our digital realities. Today, we'll unravel the tangled web of cybersecurity, focusing on the intriguing concepts of honey traps and backdoors—how they work, their purposes, both noble and nefarious, and the race to detect and defend against them.

### What’s a Honey Trap in Cybersecurity?

Think of a honey trap as the digital equivalent of a venus flytrap. In nature, these plants entice insects with their nectar, only to ensnare them. Cyber honey traps (or "honeypots") work similarly—they're decoy systems, networks, or pieces of information designed to seduce cybercriminals and hackers. They appear vulnerable and full of valuable data, drawing in attackers like moths to a flame.

#### Example:

Imagine creating a fake server loaded with false data files labeled "confidential." Hackers might target this server, only to waste their efforts on useless information while revealing their methods, origins, and even identities.

### Backdoors: The Secret Passages of Cybersecurity

On the other hand, "backdoors" are like hidden passages within a castle. They are secret — often malicious — ways to bypass normal authentication to access a system, application, or data.

#### How Are Backdoors Created?

- Intentional Backdoors:

- Example for Good: A developer might build a backdoor into a system for troubleshooting or remote support. Picture a safety deposit box with a locksmith's master key access.

- Example for Bad: A malicious insider creates a concealed entry point to tap into their employer's network later.

- Accidental Backdoors:

- Example: In the coding maze, a programmer inadvertently leaves weaknesses, like an unfinished tunnel, enabling savvy hackers to find and exploit these openings.

#### How Can Backdoors Be Used?

- For Good:

- Example: Tech support uses the backdoor to remotely assist a user with a software issue, entering through the digital "back door" and not the main "entrance."

- For Bad:

- Example: Hackers stealthily enter through the backdoor to steal sensitive information, akin to a thief slipping into a house through a secret passage, leaving no trace of forced entry. One day, you might find that confidential data—such as client information, proprietary blueprints, or personal photos—has evaporated. The culprit is long gone, having tiptoed through your digital 'back door'.

### Detection: The Cybersecurity Manhunt

Detecting honey traps is counter-intuitive; they are meant to be found by attackers. But the real work is in monitoring interactions with these traps. Security teams analyze traffic and logs to study how attackers behave, what techniques they use, and to improve defenses against real threats.

Detecting backdoors, however, is a complex challenge. It's a cybersecurity manhunt that requires constant vigilance and sophisticated tools.

#### Tools and Methods for Detection:

- Automated Scanning: Like a castle under constant surveillance, security programs scan software and systems for unfamiliar activity or known signs of a backdoor.

- Example: Antivirus software that warns you of suspicious software behavior, suggesting a possible backdoor.

- Code Auditing: Expert cybersecurity knights inspect the castle's blueprints (the code) for any secret passages (backdoors) inadvertently designed or nefariously placed.

- Example: A development team routinely reviews their product's source code before each release to ensure no hidden backdoors have been introduced.

- Anomaly Detection: Modern systems are trained to recognize normal patterns, much like how a guard knows the usual comings and goings within a palace. Anything out of the ordinary raises a flag.

- Example: An email server suddenly sending thousands of emails might indicate a backdoor has been used to compromise the system for spamming purposes.

### Conclusion: Cybersecurity as a Nexus of Intrigue and Innovation

These covert cyber tactics are not reserved for the shadows of fiction. They are in the trenches of an ongoing battle for digital safety. Honey traps and backdoors epitomize the double-edged sword of technology – they can be wielded for protection or wield misuse and havoc. As our lives intertwine with the digital world even more, understanding these concepts isn't just for tech aficionados; it's essential knowledge for anyone who clicks, taps, or swipes in the digital age.

In the next installment, we'll delve deeper into the battlefield of cybersecurity, exploring encryption, the locksmith art of the digital world, and digital certificates, our modern-day wax seals. Stay tuned, and stay secure in this digital odyssey. Your thoughts and experiences are just as crucial as the security measures we discuss. Whether you're a cybersecurity expert with tales from the digital front lines or a casual internet user with questions about staying safe online, your input helps shape the conversation and the community's awareness.

Share your insights in the comments, ask questions, or propose topics you're curious about. Let's engage in an ongoing dialogue that demystifies the tech world and empowers us all to build a more secure and informed digital future.

Remember, in the digital realm, awareness is the brightest beacon against the shadows of cyber threats. By understanding the dangers of honey traps and backdoors, we not only safeguard our personal data but also contribute to the broader fortress of global cybersecurity.

Together, let's continue our adventure through the ever-evolving narrative of technology, where each click can be both a potential risk and a step toward greater knowledge. Join me next time as we unlock more secrets of cybersecurity—because knowing is truly half the battle.