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hilde lisko

it's the fight of our lives but we'll stand up champions

Hilde doesn't think she has ever gone this long without reporting the news since she first began to write. It's been a self-imposed challenge for the last few months, a disclaimer on top of her website, the Darrow Digest, announcing a summer-long hiatus and that she'll be back in the fall. That time has almost come. Next week marks the start of school — for her, the start of high school — and her fourteenth birthday. Her intention has always been to get back to business as usual by then.

None of which is to say that she hasn't still been working. She has. That's the very reason for the hiatus in the first place. When she's actively reporting on current happenings or investigating older ones, she gets hyper-focused, tuning out any and everything else, often to the detriment of other aspects in her life. She figured out a while ago that the only way to get this other project done would be to give it that same attention; otherwise, it would just get delayed, pushed into the background, indefinitely. There will always be some news story, something different going on, especially in a place like this. For once, she has to let someone else handle it.

After all, this is worthwhile, too. Maybe the most worthwhile thing she's ever done, if she's honest with herself, or a continuation of it. What started as an essay for English class two years ago turned into supplemental writing exercises, which then turned into the crazy idea to do something more with them. To tell the whole story — of Richie Fife, of her dad, of Strata and her Pop-Pop and the Gillis family. How it became her story, too. She didn't even know about any of it until she was in it, but she would never have become the person she is if not for all of those specific, interconnected events, all those years ago. It might not have the weight here that it did back in Erie Harbor, but it matters all the same. And it's a story that deserves to be told.

So, these last few months, that's been her focus. Taking all of the assorted bits of writing she's done about it here, cobbling them together into some sort of cohesive whole, trying to update them to be half as good as her original investigative work was on it back when she was first uncovering those long-buried truths. The goal has been to have a completed draft of a book by the end of summer vacation. She's consulted with Mr. Hauser throughout, she's shared excerpts with Bill, asking for feedback, and with Gwenny, because she isn't going to not let her bestie read her writing, especially when it's basically consuming her life.

And, finally, she thinks she has something she feels good about. Something she might be able to submit to someone. A finished product.

As she looks at her laptop, where she's reread her own work for probably the trillionth time, she doesn't actually feel the sort of excitement or satisfaction that she expected to. Instead, more of a bittersweet feeling sweeps over her. More than anything, she wishes her dad were here to read it, too, or her mom and her sisters, or her Pop-Pop. She just has to believe that they would be proud of her. In a weird way, one she wouldn't know how to articulate, she's proud of herself.

For a moment, she lets herself just sit there at her desk, breathing in deeply. Then, determined to find that excitement if she doesn't come about it organically, she sends similar texts to some of the closest people in her contact list: I think... the draft is finished? What do I even do with myself? This is crazy! followed by a handful of emojis: a face with spiral eyes, confetti, another face with a hand covering its mouth, two red exclamation points.

She closes her computer, puts shoes on, and goes outside, a smile beginning to pull at the corners of her mouth as she makes her way out to the sidewalk and begins walking. There it is, the enthusiasm she's looking for, a slow-creeping giddy feeling. "Oh my god," she says to herself, quiet but audible, cheeks flushing as her expression brightens further. "Oh my god. I think I did it."

[ Timed to Saturday afternoon-ish, or whenever! If you know Hilde, feel free to have received an excited text, but whether you know her already or not, it's a great time to come across her. ST/LT always welcome, open until this says otherwise. ]

Entry tags:

meme: advice column

MEME: Advice Column

Time for a meme!

Clearly, sometimes what we need most is advice from a stranger. Tag in anonymously with letters seeking advice about anything at all, in the vein of columns such as Dear Abby. Relationships, careers, friendship, sex, what to have for dinner tonight, how to get a blood stain out of silk, or whatever strikes your pup's fancy from the mundane to the complex. Others will then respond accordingly, anonymously or not. You can post as many letters or responses as you'd like but just remember to keep it all IC.

Alternately, structure these posts the way you might see in a subreddit like r/AITA or r/relationships rather than a letter to an advice column!

Anonymous comments are turned on, but please feel free to use citysecrets to your advantage. Login information can be found here.

Entry tags:

(no subject)

August 17,205:

Eowyn and George have a conversation about horses, injuries, and their dislike of cars. It's pretty much adorable.

[ HERE | ongoing | none ]

Mississippi legal challenge: beginning 1 September, we will need to geoblock Mississippi IPs

I'll start with the tl;dr summary to make sure everyone sees it and then explain further: As of September 1, we will temporarily be forced to block access to Dreamwidth from all IP addresses that geolocate to Mississippi for legal reasons. This block will need to continue until we either win the legal case entirely, or the district court issues another injunction preventing Mississippi from enforcing their social media age verification and parental consent law against us.

Mississippi residents, we are so, so sorry. We really don't want to do this, but the legal fight we and Netchoice have been fighting for you had a temporary setback last week. We genuinely and honestly believe that we're going to win it in the end, but the Fifth Circuit appellate court said that the district judge was wrong to issue the preliminary injunction back in June that would have maintained the status quo and prevented the state from enforcing the law requiring any social media website (which is very broadly defined, and which we definitely qualify as) to deanonymize and age-verify all users and obtain parental permission from the parent of anyone under 18 who wants to open an account.

Netchoice took that appellate ruling up to the Supreme Court, who declined to overrule the Fifth Circuit with no explanation -- except for Justice Kavanaugh agreeing that we are likely to win the fight in the end, but saying that it's no big deal to let the state enforce the law in the meantime.

Needless to say, it's a big deal to let the state enforce the law in the meantime. The Mississippi law is a breathtaking state overreach: it forces us to verify the identity and age of every person who accesses Dreamwidth from the state of Mississippi and determine who's under the age of 18 by collecting identity documents, to save that highly personal and sensitive information, and then to obtain a permission slip from those users' parents to allow them to finish creating an account. It also forces us to change our moderation policies and stop anyone under 18 from accessing a wide variety of legal and beneficial speech because the state of Mississippi doesn't like it -- which, given the way Dreamwidth works, would mean blocking people from talking about those things at all. (And if you think you know exactly what kind of content the state of Mississippi doesn't like, you're absolutely right.)

Needless to say, we don't want to do that, either. Even if we wanted to, though, we can't: the resources it would take for us to build the systems that would let us do it are well beyond our capacity. You can read the sworn declaration I provided to the court for some examples of how unworkable these requirements are in practice. (That isn't even everything! The lawyers gave me a page limit!)

Unfortunately, the penalties for failing to comply with the Mississippi law are incredibly steep: fines of $10,000 per user from Mississippi who we don't have identity documents verifying age for, per incident -- which means every time someone from Mississippi loaded Dreamwidth, we'd potentially owe Mississippi $10,000. Even a single $10,000 fine would be rough for us, but the per-user, per-incident nature of the actual fine structure is an existential threat. And because we're part of the organization suing Mississippi over it, and were explicitly named in the now-overturned preliminary injunction, we think the risk of the state deciding to engage in retaliatory prosecution while the full legal challenge continues to work its way through the courts is a lot higher than we're comfortable with. Mississippi has been itching to issue those fines for a while, and while normally we wouldn't worry much because we're a small and obscure site, the fact that we've been yelling at them in court about the law being unconstitutional means the chance of them lumping us in with the big social media giants and trying to fine us is just too high for us to want to risk it. (The excellent lawyers we've been working with are Netchoice's lawyers, not ours!)

All of this means we've made the extremely painful decision that our only possible option for the time being is to block Mississippi IP addresses from accessing Dreamwidth, until we win the case. (And I repeat: I am absolutely incredibly confident we'll win the case. And apparently Justice Kavanaugh agrees!) I repeat: I am so, so sorry. This is the last thing we wanted to do, and I've been fighting my ass off for the last three years to prevent it. But, as everyone who follows the legal system knows, the Fifth Circuit is gonna do what it's gonna do, whether or not what they want to do has any relationship to the actual law.

We don't collect geolocation information ourselves, and we have no idea which of our users are residents of Mississippi. (We also don't want to know that, unless you choose to tell us.) Because of that, and because access to highly accurate geolocation databases is extremely expensive, our only option is to use our network provider's geolocation-based blocking to prevent connections from IP addresses they identify as being from Mississippi from even reaching Dreamwidth in the first place. I have no idea how accurate their geolocation is, and it's possible that some people not in Mississippi might also be affected by this block. (The inaccuracy of geolocation is only, like, the 27th most important reason on the list of "why this law is practically impossible for any site to comply with, much less a tiny site like us".)

If your IP address is identified as coming from Mississippi, beginning on September 1, you'll see a shorter, simpler version of this message and be unable to proceed to the site itself. If you would otherwise be affected, but you have a VPN or proxy service that masks your IP address and changes where your connection appears to come from, you won't get the block message, and you can keep using Dreamwidth the way you usually would.

On a completely unrelated note while I have you all here, have I mentioned lately that I really like ProtonVPN's service, privacy practices, and pricing? They also have a free tier available that, although limited to one device, has no ads or data caps and doesn't log your activity, unlike most of the free VPN services out there. VPNs are an excellent privacy and security tool that every user of the internet should be familiar with! We aren't affiliated with Proton and we don't get any kickbacks if you sign up with them, but I'm a satisfied customer and I wanted to take this chance to let you know that.

Again, we're so incredibly sorry to have to make this announcement, and I personally promise you that I will continue to fight this law, and all of the others like it that various states are passing, with every inch of the New Jersey-bred stubborn fightiness you've come to know and love over the last 16 years. The instant we think it's less legally risky for us to allow connections from Mississippi IP addresses, we'll undo the block and let you know.

Entry tags:

(no subject)

George can't honestly remember a time when he'd been this happy. Maybe he'd come close, some days, in France -- once he'd really understood what he was there to do, and given himself over to it? Or there had been days at court when it had been less of a struggle to stay in James' light, and he'd been able to relax, and enjoy the life that he'd bought for himself. In Darrow, though, things are simpler -- he works, sometimes, playing cello or the viola de gamba that he'd found in a dusty corner of a music shop and scrimped coins to buy, and he rides, and he has friends, and someone who shares his bed, and...

Some days it feels like a perfect kind of life.

A few days after his second birthday celebrated in Darrow, he finds himself in a bookstore, browsing the shelves. He finds himself drawn to the history section, idly scanning the spines for titles that suggest events that he might be familiar with. He's just put back a volume about the wives of Henry VIII when he sees them, two books, side by side: The Scapegoat: The Brilliant, Brief Life of the Duke of Buckingham and, next to it, The King's Assassin.

He takes the former, leafing through it. It's a lot of information to take in. Duke, not Earl, beloved of Charlies as well as James, married (with children) to Katie Manners, of all people. He remmebers her from childhood, and always thought that she was dull, and weird. Children. Whispers that, along with his mother, through malice or misadventure, that he'd had a hand in the death of the King, of James in 1625, which was only eleven years after he'd left Perth, and found himself in Darrow.

And then he sees it, in black and white: Minutes later, he was dead.

Shit. Shit. He flips back a few pages, increasingly agitated, and finds the date. 23rd August, 1628. He'd been thirty five years old. Less than ten years older than he finds himself, standing there in a different world entirely.

So why does it feel like the world is suddenly caving in? The book still in his hands, he sits down, heavily, on the floor in front of the shelf. It feels like his bones no longer wish to do him service. The world spins and, suddenly, he can't do anything but put his head between his knees.

ooc: George has just found out that a) historians believe that, wittingly or un, he had a part in the death of his lover, James I and b) that he was assasinated, aged 35. He's not taking it well. Witness his breakdown or find him on the street afterwards. If your pup has knowledge of English history OR has read The Three Musketeers, they'll almost certainly have heard of The Duke of Buckingham.

Entry tags:

can't not think of all the cost

Dated March 23, 2025:

In his other hand is the sheet music, and he doesn't know if he wants to hold it to his chest and treasure it or tear it into pieces. Even if he did know, it wouldn't be his decision. Jae had too many of those stolen from him already anyway; he isn't going to be the one to take another one.

Following the arrival of some familiar sheet music, Sihyun and Jae-eun talk about what it means, and Jae has some big feelings.

[ HERE | ongoing | probable mentions of past violence and/or self-harm ]

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like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass, like the bonfire that burns

Dated August, 2025:

And she wanted this to be fun. They both hadn't had enough room for that in their former lives, and something they were doing in service of their own living space (she couldn't call it her home, almost as if superstitiously not wanting to jinx anything, but it made her feel warm all over every time he did) should be enjoyable, not a chore or a slog.

An errand to pick up supplies for ship renovations leads to an unexpected detour to part of Jyn's past.

[ HERE | ongoing | pg ]

Entry tags:

meme: would you rather?

MEME: Would You Rather?

Tag characters in and others will offer them a choice between two options, whether these are items, actions, etc. You must choose between the two possibilities and answer honestly. Nothing is IG and nothing is off limits. Feel free to ask questions with either your characters or your own journal!

Entry tags:

(no subject)

It wasn't an addiction; he could stop any time he liked. The bright lights. The sterile organization. The shamelessly displayed opulence. He had money to spare, and spare it he did. The guestroom in their penthouse had been converted into a closet, which he'd filled from top to bottom. His treasures spilled over into other rooms, as well. He made regular donations to charity in order to fill the space once again.

Online shopping was a convenience he found disgustingly pleasurable, but it would never overtake the urge he had to endlessly peruse the aisle of store after store, touching things with the awed reverence of a child.

While he often found antique stores woefully depressing, preferring the sleek newness of department stores and boutiques, he'd wandered idly into a secondhand shop that had seemingly sprung up overnight in an empty retail space near the park.

Despite having only been open for a short time, it had the musty, lived-in stench that hovered within the walls of all such establishments. Dust and incense and floral potpourri. And with many such merchants, this shop had an abundance of dolls.

He found himself staring at one for an untold number of minutes. A porcelain manikin in cream silk with blush pink trim around an oversized bonnet. Golden hair, and nearly translucent skin. While it was not an exact duplicate, it was eerily like the one he'd gifted Claudia on her fifteenth birthday.

A gift which she had already outgrown; pale and regal and womanly as she would never be. It was a cruel gift, he saw now. He could not recall what possessed him to purchase such a thing, and Claudia, still exuberant and clinging to youth, had kissed his cheek in thanks. It would be years before she would begin rightfully to hate him.

Stepping forward, Lestat gripped the doll's fragile head within his hand and squeezed. It crumbled to powder and toppled to the linoleum floor.

"Hey!" Shouted a young woman manning the counter across the room. She came at him, fury in her eyes, but stopped dead when he turned on her and spoke a wordless warning:

See nothing, if you want to keep your life.

Placidly, she turned away, and gathering himself, Lestat swept out of the store and into the night.

Claudia...

Claudia, who was now dead. Even if he had not learned the truth from Daniel's book, he would've known it to be true. He'd known from the start that the madness that claimed so many of their kind would take her, sooner rather than later. The madness which consumed Nicki and nearly took his Louis. The madness which threatened him, when he was at his loneliest.

And now, he'd doomed another to that fate. Eddie, who seemed to have taken his transformation in such stride, but who clung to humanity in a way that could only end in disaster. He saw it, again and again, and yet he had not been able to stop himself.

Selfish. Evil.

Lurching down the sidewalk, he came upon a young man, ruddy and full of life, and was on him in an instant, dragging the boy into the darkness of an alley and draining the life from him. For a moment, he was satisfied. Bolstered. The natural order, righted.

But as he pulled back to look down upon the boy's face, now pale and his eyes glassy in death, Lestat felt a cold terror grip him. Terror of the act. Terror of himself. Revolted, he nearly abandoned the corpse where he stood, at risk of exposing himself and his kind to the ire of those who might want revenge for such a crime.

And that would be just, would it not?

[[Lestat having a little crisis. Find him in the antique shop, or witness his murder of an NPC, or really any time before, after, or in-between. Open to all. Oh, and this is obviously timed to after dark.]]

Entry tags:

welcome to the strange world

She has to admit, Zoey and Mira were right. It's not that Rumi doubted them, of course, about the bathhouse being relaxing in theory. It's just that practice was always going to be a different matter with all her patterns on unavoidable display. How could she ever have relaxed through the fear of being recognized for what she is, what she never wanted to be? Though she knows now that she should have trusted her friends, she's slowly, carefully learning to be gentle with herself about it all. She spent her whole life being told otherwise, after all. Trusting her own gut instinct that her friends loved her enough to embrace her was nearly impossible when Celine had so clearly told her so many times that it could never happen, that they would never understand.

( cut for length and mild spoilers )

"Think, Rumi, come on," she hisses under her breath, gaze darting around. At least with her hair wrapped in the towel, her distinctive hair color is mostly obscured. There's nothing here to tip her off to where she might be, though it seems like it might be more of a tourist area with the signs mostly in English and the prevalence of white people. She needs to get to her phone and call Bobby ASAP, but she can't get into her purse until she can get somewhere hidden, somewhere she can get dressed. "Oh, this is bad."

[ Semi-traditional debut! Rumi has arrived in Darrow straight from the spa. First tag can explain to her; everyone after can either do the same or find her later with damp hair and a welcome packet, hunting for answers. ]

Entry tags:

a world like a game where there's only victory or lose

Job hunting is easy. Shion hardly understands why people complain about it so much. For that matter, he doesn't know why he put it off so long. He's known for a few months now that he really should have, but he's been too busy enjoying Sophie's presence to do it. It's for her sake, though, that he needs one. Her monthly stipend from the city goes directly into savings to ensure she's taken care of if something happens and he vanishes from this place, or for when she's older and wants to fend for herself (some. As long as he's around, she's always going to have him behind her). With that being the case, they're operating off his own stipend, which wouldn't be too much of a problem if he had any impulse control whatsoever.

Oh, for his own sake, it's not that bad. He did perfectly fine on his own, particularly since he didn't buy nearly as much in the way of groceries back then. But he has his heart set on ensuring Sophie gets every little thing she ever wants, as well as a lot of things she's never asked for. It's not that he can't say no to her. If and when the situation calls for it, he can and will. Most of the time, though, he just wants to indulge her every whim, as much for his own sake as for hers. And sometimes that requires money.

He'll have that in spades now. His interview with the advertising firm ended in an instant job offer settled entirely on his own terms, including a very generous salary and flexible work hours, mostly remote. Sure, he used his abilities to get him there, but, well, the job is all about being persuasive, and he certainly is that. Besides, he knows he's good at the work. Vesselsoft wasn't such a massive success only because Jakah's a genius, after all. When it comes to marketing, it's not much of a stretch to say that Shion's one, too. This agency may not have offered anyone else such a high starting salary, but they'll get the quality they've paid for. He doesn't need his powers for that.

This calls for a celebration, of course. He's on his way home to the Bramford to get Sophie, the best girl in the world who can be trusted to mind herself for an hour, though he tries not to let that happen unless it's necessary. They'll go out for ice cream and to play somewhere and have a nice dinner. On the way there, though, he catches sight of a window full of toys and comes to a stop. His smile turns wistful as he looks inside the store, looking over the variety of plush toys visible. So much changes over the years, but the things kids like tend to come back to the same types of things over and over again; looking at these now reminds him of his time in Bashkmosha and Noa's toy store there. Granted, this one probably doesn't have rows of guns hidden on the wall behind secret panels, but he can't rule it out, really.

That smile widens into a grin when he lowers his gaze and spies a medium-sized stuffed wolf, just the right size for cuddling. None of his favorite wolves have been grey, of course, but it is recognizably a wolf and that's what matters. He has to have it. Or, more accurately, he needs to be able to give it to Sophie.

"How much is that doggy in the window?" he singsongs to himself. "The one with the waggly tail..."

[ Come find Shion walking around downtown Darrow looking at toys, inside or outside the shop! Or find him on his way to/at the Bramford with plushies in tow. He's in a good mood, great time to meet him. :D Open until this says otherwise. ]