(she/her) (32)Just a blog to talk about things I like and to discover new things ! (Sometimes I post photos and I write stuffs ) To be honest it’s a miscellaneous mess...
A Book of Creatures by @a-book-of-creatures doesn't update these days but is another thing along these lines, really huge, fully illustrated all by the author and cites all sources
FRIENDLY REMINDER:
STANDARD BOOK CHAPTERS ARE ANYWHERE BETWEEN 2000 AND 5000 WORDS, WITH 5000 BEING CONSIDERED A LONG CHAPTER.
CHANGE YOUR WORD DOCUMENT FORMAT TO A IMITATE A STANDARD BOOK TO SEE HOW MANY PAGES YOU HAVE ALREADY, YOU PROBABLY HAVE ALOT MORE THAN YOU THINK AND WE'RE ALL SO PROUD OF YOU <3
life pro tip: if you happen to be considering purchasing an LG TV or monitor, you possibly want to pick something else! and if you have an LG monitor that has not been plugged into anything in a while, you might want to leave it that way!
if you already have an LG monitor or TV or intend to buy one, you probably want to watch this video and keep an eye on gamers nexus for updates (or anyone else covering the LG spying situation):
posted july 16 2026
LG is doing some bad things. how bad? well. here are some very brief bullet points. I am not an expert, gamers nexus is, see the video for more information than this:
LG monitors (brand new and years old, cheap and expensive) auto-install LG's own adware-spyware called LG Monitor App onto windows 10 and 11 computers. you plug in an LG monitor for video output and this gets installed automatically. no hitting OK, no confirmation, no toggles, NOTHING.
the auto-installed LG Monitor App auto-grants itself access to your internet connection and ALL computer resources. the LG Monitor App has the ability to collect: geolocation data, device data, personal information, online activity data, contact data, and more!
...and it shows pop-up ads! because fuck you
on some affected versions of windows, auto-installed shitware like the LG Monitor App can be prevented by navigating to gpedit.msc -> computer configuration -> administrative templates -> system -> device installation -> prevent automatic download of applications associated with metadata
...but, if your LG monitor already installed the LG Monitor App, this is like closing the barn door after the horse got out. and that horse has the logs of everything you were doing on your computer! someone stop that fucking horse!!!
unrelated to the LG Monitor App, many LG TV owners are now required to tell all household members and guests that their LG TV is recording and processing ALL nearby voices. or else they may be in violation of local eavesdropping and wiretapping laws. for owning a fucking LG TV.
plus, how many businesses, workplaces, public spaces use LG TVs?
allegedly the microphone spying can be turned off by disabling microphone features, but LG has been caught disregarding opt-out settings before.
LG TVs can record everything that happens on the TV, including the video output of connected devices like phones, computers, gaming consoles, anything that happens on the TV screen.
LG was sued for their spying, and as a result of that spying suit, now shows pop-ups saying oops! they got caught spying and intend to continue spying. thanks for buying LG!
as of when the video was posted, there was no list of every spying LG monitor or TV. but this stuff is getting rolled out to more and more LG devices, including those purchased years ago.
and that is the shortest summary I can make of this situation without just summarizing more of the gamers nexus video.
Update: We are working on a follow-up to the LG story and have some disturbing findings re: LG's products. It will take us a while to parse
⬆️posted july 23 2026
gamers nexus is fairly respected in technology journalism. they fly around the world investigating companies that fuck people over and have pressured major companies to make major changes over the years.
so for gamers nexus to say that this LG spying situation is both unprecedented in how uniquely bad it is in this era of spying, and that it gets even worse than their video where they already say to stop buying and using LG products while recanting every prior recommendation for LG products?
to be clear you SHOULD buy that cast iron pan and you SHOULD buy that knife set and you SHOULD buy that fancy rice cooker and you SHOULD buy that novelty mug. high quality kitchenware is always worth it you’re literally gonna be using that almost every day
July 25, 2024 - This week we celebrate the life of Cathy Rutherford, the amazingly fierce lady with the umbrella in the video above. Your hatred for Thatcher and refusal to be nice about it genuinely remains an inspiration 🫡 [link]
You hesitate. Caught between unfamiliarity and seeing too much cop shit on social media.
“Go!” Gale says as Wesa snatches your hand and bolts.
It snaps you out long enough for Gale to give a smug grin. “I’ll be quite alright, I assure you.”
You and Wesa run for the nearest alley. Hit it. Barrel past baskets and crates, and burst out to the next street over. You slow immediately. Have to tug Wesa back.
“Running draws attention,” you say.
Like them people walking with a purpose. You ain’t all that far from the gate y’all came in on. Ought to be able to steamboat your way through, Wesa following along in your wake.
You got mass and momentum. But some seem to take that personal, and you shoulder clip a guy.
“Sorry!” you say over your shoulder. “Little one’s about to have an accident!”
Before you can apologize or plead to Wesa, she catches on and goes whole ham. Yowls and claps a hand to her backside.
People get out the way then.
You make for another alley. Pick up the pace toward the end. Clothes lines string from house to house, up high enough nobody’s gonna snatch somebody’s panties off the street.
In the distance, something makes a sound. A rhythmic thumping getting closer.
The streets of Rivington is a mess. No planning at all. No grid layout; all twisting, turning things and in all the hustle, you ain’t sure which way you’re pointing no more. Think to turn left once y’all get back out onto main—
Silver and red. You plow into another fister.
“Sweet christ, I’m sorry—”
“Hold there,” the man barks. Catches his feet. Reaches for his sword.
Wesa moves. Darts out. Up, under the chainmail and punches the guy square in the dick.
Oh damn. She’s got good aim and better instincts. Then y’all are running for real this time. Hop over the man curled on the ground, wheezing and retching.
Y’all dodge right. The road lifts in short stairs and you both scamper up. A sharp twist to the right again. Headed for a clusters of buildings…
Ch-thump, ch-thump.
Out into the street steps a fuckass giant robot. Spindly legs, hooked hands, fucking medieval times helmet with a stupid, fucking red feather all floofed out the top.
“What the fuck,” you say. They got magic bullshit and goddamn transformers?
Thing ain’t got a face. No magic lights in the joints. Just a thick torso, them long arms, and a giant goddamn sword on its back because of course it fucking does.
That pointed front of the helmet turns to you. No eyes, no features, yet you know in your goddamn bones it’s looking at you.
“Halt,” it says in a woman’s voice.
Like hell. You pivot. Take a step.
“Eleanor Ripley, halt.”
It’s like somebody drives nails through your feet. You stop so hard you almost crash to the street. Wesa breaks free before she skids to a stop. Looks back to you with wide eyes.
The transformer stares. There’s something in it. Something reaching out. Almost…familiar.
“Eleanor Ripley is known to us,” the transformer says. “You are being detained. Come quietly.”
How in all the fuck does it know your name. You’re the basic bitch of the group. A boring ass human. Ain’t nobody should be looking twice at you, that was the whole point of sending you down here, and this thing knows your whole ass legal name?
Something grabs you. Not Wesa. Hauls you off the road, around a corner, and all but shoves you down a set of stairs into a fucking basement.
“Get the fuck—” you start.
A hand clamps over your mouth. Arms wrap tight around you. Too tight. Monstrous tight. You kick back, trying to rake your heel down a shin. Start to lift your feet to let your weight become their problem.
Herbs. Spiced, very slightly sweet. And a smell of old basement. The hand on your mouth is cool. Room temperature.
A scuffle and a shadow dims the open door. Wesa drops in, some kinda sharpened bone in her hand, her flat teeth bared She freezes. Blinks. “Tribe?”
“Hello, darlings!” Astarion says.
For just a second, barely a breath, the relief punches the air outta you. You damn near sag.
“We need to move right now,” Astarion says, because the fisters and a goddamn transformer are thudding y’all’s way.
Astarion lets you go. You stagger free.
His old lady hair, his stupid, pasty face with his stupid red eyes and you want to throttle him and…and…
Then he snatches your hand in his, and y’all are scrambling for the back of the cellar. For a set of stairs so steep it’s basically a ladder. He drops your hand and hits the trap door above. Busts it open, hauls himself up, and then he’s reaching for you again. Wesa scrabbles up after you into some poor bastard’s dining room. The poor bastard in question sits at the table, soup slopped down his front, a dribble of boiled peas stuck in his beard as his presumed husband and children stare.
“Pardon,” you say.
Astarion gives them a jaunty salute with his free hand, then y’all are at their back door. Charge out into sunlight. Across another road and into another alley. This one has a lattice up the wall.
“Up,” Astarion says. Takes to the lattice like he’s not even using it. Flies up the damn thing like a fucking Spiderman on a mission.
And, okay, so now the skirt is in the way. You snatch it up, shove enough of it into your mouth to hold them hem clear of your feet, and start climbing.
You thank Lae’zel for all the stupid exercises. Hands shakes a little as you reach the roof. But you do reach the roof. Only to be confronted with the overhang.
Astarion leans out. “Hurry, darling.”
He grabs you like a fucking vice. Helps haul you up and over—Wesa tugging on your other wrist, and y’all get you flopping out onto the clay roof tiles right as boots come running around the corner.
You press flat. Try to quiet your panting. Scooch up carefully across the hot tiles. Try not to touch them with bare skin, even as the heat seeps through your layers of clothes. Wesa flops onto her butt to get her bare feet into the air, and Astarion wriggles over to the ledge like a snake on a sunny rock.
Shouts below. Stomping. You wait for the judder of somebody on that lattice. For the panting of a fister climbing. You twist around, feet down, and the second a face pops over that ledge you’re kicking them full in the face.
Nobody comes up the lattice. They stomp around, shout a bit, jostle away. The transformer ch-thuds around down there before eventually turning up the street.
You flop down and blow air, gasp it back in, your heart kicking at your ribs.
“Well, that was exciting,” Astarion says.
Astarion, the asshole who dismissed you like nothing and then disappeared all night. Who cut you loose (metaphorically this time) in front of everybody before showing up in a walled off city to drag you into hiding.
This absolute douchecanoe.
Damn you, you missed him.
“What’re you doing here?” you say.
He snorts. “It’s my city, dearest. As if I couldn’t return whenever I wanted.”
He stared at that big hill once it came into view, jaw tense, gaze hollow. He’s been quieter than usual. Meaner than usual.
“You bribed the guards?” you say.
He gives you such a withering glare. Shoots it down his nose, even, to heighten the affront. “I don’t need money to return.”
“Tribe,” Wesa says.
“I needed a little money. Those guards were uncultured simpletons. That’s all beside the point. We’ll need to get moving before any of those miscreants have the brilliant idea of checking the rooftops. You’d think they’d learn after the third or fourth time, but they never seem to.”
Getting back over the ledge is worse. No handhold up here. Your feet kick around, toes find a ledge and slip off again and you nearly holler. All the voices of ancestors past, all the way back to the primates galloping around in treetops, shriek that you’re going to fall and bust your ass so hard you’ll die.
“I’ve got you,” Astarion says. And he does. Holds both your hands until you can get your footing. Get one of your arms down to clutch at the wood. As you make your way down, he does some vampiric elven bullshit and slips lightly beside you to scamper on down faster than he came back up. Seems real pleased with himself, too.
He offers you a hand at the end, and you ain’t above taking it. He pauses a second, regards Wesa, and reaches for her.
She snaps at him. Her teeth click less than an inch from his fingers.
“You vicious little—” He catches you watching. Clears his throat. “Fine. Make your own way, then.”
She does. Sighs as she slips back into the shade of the alley.
“What about Gale?” you say. “We left him back there.”
Astarion is already slinking deeper into the alley. “I’m sure the wizard will be fine. Through here.”
The street is blocked off with a metal gate. The bottom is pulled up—y’all ain’t the first to come crawling under it.
“That transformer knew my name,” you say. “It recognized me.”
You don’t even know what that fucking thing is, let alone how it could do that. Why it could do that. Only that it seemed to be working with the fisters, who work for the city that Greaseball is doing shit with.
Nobody pays y’all any mind as y’all come crawling out into the street. A pasty weirdo, a fat woman blowing like a rundown horse, and a scowling third grader all covered in dust and sweat. Must just be a lot weirder stuff that happens here.
“Gale and I ran into this weird woman who fucking melted into someone else. She seemed to know us, too. And what we been doing. A real Ebony Darkness fuckhead.”
Astarion stares at you. Has been staring for a second, brow furrowed. “Sometimes you talk, darling, and I have absolutely no idea what you’re saying.”
“They know who we are. Someone here, with fucking talking robots, knows who we are.”
“I suppose this little mission was a success, then. Down!”
He drops to a crouch next to a jumble of busted crates. Shoves you down behind him. A troop of fisters jogs past. This is a quieter street, very few stalls, more houses, a lotta them boarded up.
Astarion watches them go. His hand hovers just above your shoulder, ready to push you back.
It’d be easy to let last night slide. Just say nothing. He’d go right along with it, you know. The both of you could pretend it never happened, that everything is fine.
Until the next time. And it would be even harder to pipe up then. That’s how that works. You don’t say nothing and nobody says nothing and bad things happen again and again, and the longer you go not saying nothing, the harder it is to even try.
You’re glad to see him. Relieved as hell. But you got to talk to him. Got to risk it. Yet you look at him, peering down the street, this man you know, this friend, and your tongue is heavy in your mouth.
“They’ll be gone in one more moment,” he says.
You got to say it before you chickenshit out. Can’t leave it. That ain’t gonna help nobody. It’ll just get infected, make everything worse, poison all this. You got to open your mouth.
“Astarion,” you say.
His shoulders tense. Jaw muscles clench. He starts to turn, lips parting—
A flash of purple light. Singed licorice curls the air and you twist around as Wesa makes a sound. Find her studying her own hands.
Her green hands. Tipped in sturdy claws.
She looks up at you with them big, goblin eyes, her big, goblin ears pulling low.
Do threats and punishments make people change their behaviour to the desired? Or does it make them prepare for the punishment? The answer will shock you.
yousharknotpass
gummygunk
turnnoffyourmind
stormborns
prguitarman
pixelskylines
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
vaporwave
romaincrisis
