#Quick Cash System

[highdramas]

ring of fire | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), power imbalance (reader is a resident and jack is her attending), drug use (they smoke weed bc they deserve it), references to sex but no explicit content

word count: 1.7k

summary: you like your little rituals with your attending.

notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. this was born out of the fact that i want to smoke weed with jack abbot. that's all! not proofread so apologies for any errors <3

johnny cash plays on his speaker system and you sit, cross legged on the floor, an ashtray burning on his coffee table. he’s sat on the couch, legs spread, his head leaned back. you can tell that he aches, today– you could see it in his gait as you left work together, elbows brushing. you don’t know at what point it became ritual to smoke weed with your attending at 7am when you got off. you don’t know when it became typical to expect that you would fall asleep in his bed more nights than not. you don’t know when it became normal to brush your teeth alongside him, making eye contact in the mirror.

for what it’s worth, you haven’t found a reason to complain yet.

you turn jack’s zippo over in your hand while he settles, his prosthetic set to the side. you slide a joint out of your pack and place it between your lips. your thumb rubs at the engraved service dates on the lighter as you admire the owner. he catches the look as you finally spark and inhale– and it feels like you are just a bit lighter. you take another quick puff before jack says, “don’t hog it.” he tsks. “greedy.”

blowing the smoke in his direction, you shrug your shoulders innocently. “i’ve waited for this all day,” you say before passing it along to him.

the second smoke is passing from his lips, he lets out a long, satisfied groan, that you feel in every atom of your body. “yeah. me too.” passing it back to you, he continues to rub at the end of his leg, sore from supporting his body weight for far too many hours.

you smoke together in comfortable quiet until your eyelids feel heavier and the worries of the day feel far away. you slink from your spot on his plush carpet to beside him on the couch. his hand goes to your thigh. your head rests against his. you each close your eyes and enjoy the moment. “you tired?” he asks, painting stars into your skin with the pad of his finger. when you shake your head– you’re rarely ready to go to bed immediately upon getting home– he gets that knowing smirk. “you hungry?”

“i could eat a horse.”

“mmm– that’s my girl.” he fishes his phone out of his pocket and opens up doordash, sliding it into your hand. “my usual, please.”

you place your order to your favorite breakfast burrito spot– charged to his card, obviously. you recline and stretch your legs out across his lap. he rubs your foot with one hand. there’s nothing exceptional or different about the moment, but the easy domesticity is something that you still haven’t quite gotten adjusted to yet.

your partnership was born out of the fact that, on many levels, you two were the same. reclusive tendencies, a disposition to unhealthy coping habits, a therapist who tells them that they need to spend more time with people, not just patients– and, technically, your therapist didn’t say that you couldn’t find companionship with someone from work. it was born sitting out at the park across the street from the hospital. it always ended with everyone leaving, except the two of you– finding reasons to sit out there for hours before you accepted that you needed to get home. it was his idea for you to come over that first night– drink a beer, watch a little tv, before you would make the short walk to your place. one night became two, walking back to your place become crashing on his couch. he struck gold when he looked at you with a little coy grin and asked, “you like to smoke?”

“like, cigarettes?” you had asked, incredulous.

“nah, not my brand of death wish. weed.”

“of course i do.”

abbot liked to say that he smoked to help the pain, and while you knew that was true… you could see it wash over him, relax him after a day that deregulated his nervous system.

then, smoking became long stares amidst the smoke. at some point, you had crossed his living room and slid up next to him and bit your lip and he couldn’t take it anymore, and he kissed you– his resident.

definitely wasn’t above board. but, assessing the risk… you spent every day making the most stressful, important decisions that a person can make. to choose to spend your hazy mornings with abbot is the easiest one that you make in a day.

and, what are they gonna do, really? you don’t know. hell– you don’t know if you care. you know abbot doesn’t care, because when you first voiced the concern, you got an actual laugh out of him. “don’t– you’re gonna make my stomach hurt,” he had said. “i give two shits what gloria has to say.”

“you hurting?” you ask carefully. your hand plays with the curls at the back of his neck. your eyes carefully drink him in.

“not now.” there’s a playfulness in his eyes– even if he was hurting, he has the perfect poker face. you’ve learned how to identify the cracks in it, though, the small tells that he has. the slight wince or the rubbing of his calf tell you everything that you need to know. but you can tell, right now, that he’s being earnest with you. “i feel fan-fucking-tastic.” his eyes follow where his hand goes on your leg. he massages circles into your thigh, up near the juncture of your hip. then, he brings it back down to your calf, then your foot once more. “how do you feel?”

“fan-fucking-tastic,” you echo with a lazy smile. “like i could smoke another.”

this gets a laugh from him and he grabs your joint box from the coffee table. “don’t gotta tell this old man twice.” he pops it between his lips. “gimme a light.”

grabbing his zippo, you push yourself up onto your knees. the flame from the lighter reflects back at you in his eyes as you ignite the end of his joint, watching him inhale. smoke envelopes you like a warm hug, and with it still pinched between his two fingers, he pulls you in to kiss.

it makes you laugh. thinking about your coworkers seeing the two of you like this. you think you’ve put on a pretty good front, all things considered– you don’t avoid each other during shift, but your interactions would never lead one to believe that this is what you’re doing in your spare time. in fact, there’s been a few moments of vocal sparring about the course of treatment for a patient. you loved those moments. you loved challenging and being challenged by abbot. you wouldn’t give any of it up, if you didn’t have to.

sighing into his mouth, your back arches until your chest presses against his. he extends his arm as not to accidentally light your hair on fire– you’ve seen that once or twice in the ER– but still pulls you closer with the free hand. he has this casual confidence about him when he touches you. he touches you like he knows how to play your body like an instrument– to his credit, he sort of does. you’re not overly experienced when it comes to love or sex, but one thing you know for sure is that it’s never felt like this. you don’t know if it could feel like this with anyone but jack.

he’s guiding the joint back to your mouth when there’s a knock on the door, signalling the arrival of your food. you move to stand up but he shakes his head, adjusting himself back into his prosthetic. “sit your ass down,” he says with that playful smile, sauntering to the door shirtless and beautiful.

you finish the second joint and then dig in. he says something that makes you laugh so hard, a piece of bacon goes flying from your mouth. that makes him laugh so hard he nearly keels over. by the end, the wrappers are tucked away in the take-out bag and you’re a giggling heap on the sofa.

it dissipates, and you lay on the couch with your back to his front. you’re both too tired for sex, tonight– and emotions aren’t running quite that high, either. that’s usually reserved for those particularly hard days, where the only way to break through is to pile into the shower with the steam and let him have his way with you– in his dedicated, steady, perfect way. today was a good day. long, but good.

love is a burning thing, johnny cash croons as the two of you lay there. you look at the ashtray, with the smoldering remains of the two joints, and you smirk to yourself. jack must feel you shift, because his hand travels up from your hip to your waist. “we should get to the bed,” he says into your neck. “don’t got black out curtains out here, and i know how cranky you get.”

“i do not,” you pout, but you really do get cranky.

the two of you push yourself up, the exhaustion starting to settle into your bones. you grab at your favorite throw blanket of his and sling it over your shoulder. he looks you up and down and his hand lands on your ass as the two of you make your way into his room. it’s all navy and cream, mementos from his life and his service, coloring in the picture of him. you yelp and smack his chest, which makes him grin and catch your hand, pressing a long kiss to your palm.

you brush your teeth, side by side. he tugs your hair back for you while you get ready to wash your face. you lean before him and help him out of his prosthetic, putting it in its designated spot in his room. when the two of you finally hit the mattress– after you drew the black out curtains, of course– he only has time to sling a heavy arm across your waist and tug you in before you’re both dead to the world.

[homunculus-argument]

I just had the most finnish social interaction of my life.

For backstory, Finland has a bottle/beverage can recycling system where most drink containers have a return deposit of a few cents - from 10 to 40 cents depending on the size of the bottle or can. All grocery stores and most convenience kiosks have a bottle return machine (which english wikipedia apparenly refers to as "reverse vending machines", which amuses me) where you can return the empty containers and receive a receipt which the cash register trades for money. The return isn't much but they add up surprisingly quick, and it's pretty common for people who are in the need for such cash to seek for and collect bottles and cans for recycling money.

I was going on errands on foot today, and had gotten myself an energy drink as a little treat on my way. Once I had gone through it I naturally held onto the bottle instead of throwing it to the trash, because bottles are money and 20 cents is 20 cents. On my way I saw an old man with a long grey beard, in a dirty t-shirt, approaching slowly on a bicycle. As he got closer he looked at me, glanced at my bottle and then back to me, while I looked him in the eye, glanced at the scraggly plastic bag hanging from his bike handle, and then back to him. Had his bag been full of recycling cans like I had first assumed, I would have stopped him right there and asked him if he'd like to have my empty bottle as well.

However, he had other assorted stuff in the bag, and therefore it would have been rude of me to assume that he is gathering bottles, and in return it would have been rude of him to stop me on my way to ask me if the bottle is empty and whether I'd like to be rid of it. But I saw him glance at the bottle and he saw me glancing at his bag, so both had reason to assume that he had more use for it than I would. But stopping strangers to address them like that is rude, so we passed each other without saying a word.

However, I was a stride away from a bus stop (which he had just passed) and I paused for a second to put my empty bottle on top of the trash can attached to the bus shelter. Looking over my shoulder to look at the old man, I saw him turning to look over his shoulder at me. So I nodded at him and he nodded at me, turning his bike around to retrieve the bottle as I left it there and kept walking. Neither one had said a word, but with a few seconds of eye contact, two pointed glances and a few quick nods, we managed to communicate through mutual assumptions, context clues and vague gestures that we could both do each other a favour.

[auroralwriting]

spencer smut perhaps? he's all shy but the second your lips touch his he snaps?

guilty as sin

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader (18+)

you think spencer's too shy to do anything, until he gets a taste of you

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut, dirty talk, p-in-v, wrap it before you tap it, sort of dom!spencer, multiple orgasms, spencer is whipped, season seven spencer is implied, soft and fluffy but also a smidgen kinky, spencer’s a gentleman, he’s still a nerd, begging, orgasm denial, he’s also a tease, light praise, it’s smut you get the gist

"Oh, come on? You're seriously going to sit there and tell me nothing happened with Lila Archer?" Emily laughed as she sipped on her beer.

It was a chilly autumn night. Your team had just returned home from a case a few hours prior. You were still dressed in your work clothes, like the rest of our colleagues. Somehow, you were convinced to go to the bar before it got too late into the evening. A sort of celebration that you all had caught the killer so quick with only two casualties. That was rare. Emily had even convinced Hotch to join you all. Since meeting Beth, he'd began to grow out of his shell. It was nice to see him happy again.

The liquor in all of your systems was enough to allow the silly conversations to flow with ease. Seeing as Emily and you had not been on the team when the Lila Archer stalking case was worked on, you had a fair amount of questions.

"You were with Lila Archer, alone, for hours on end," Emily took a sip of her drink as she continued her mini-rant. "and you didn't bang her?"

Derek emitted a slight chuckle, "Well, she did make out with him in the pool."

"The pool? Spence, you dog!" You gasped, quickly following it up with a laugh.

Deep down, this conversation bothered you. Maybe it was due to the fact that you had the biggest crush on Spencer. Or it could have been the way JJ was staring at you, no doubt profiling you. She was the only one who knew of your feelings for the genius. Of course, she was nothing but comforting and supportive. JJ was trying to catch a read on if she should end this conversation before it really got to you.

"I- She initiated it," Spencer weakly defended. "I just, well, kissed her back." The whole table erupted in oohs and laughs.

You kept your longings locked from the man. Kept in faded color, lowercase, locked away inside some secret vault you kept in your heart. It was better this way.

"You don't have it in you to do anything more, my man." Derek slapped Spencer's back. His words, meant to be supportive, just plain were not. "A man of honor, truth, justice, pat-"

"All right, I think we've all had enough to drink tonight." Hotch cut off Derek's drunken ramble. "Let's all make sure to call cabs home."

You grabbed your belongings, just a jacket, purse, and scarf, and stood up along with the rest of your friends. Everyone bid each other goodnight, small hugs passed along. Reaching in your purse, you went to grab the twenty you'd left, just in case. Your purse, however, was seemingly empty, besides a lipstick and your wallet. "Oh, shit." You muttered, having no way to pay for a ride home.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Spencer asked, hearing your call of distress.

Shaking your head, you pursed your lips. "I don't have any cash to get home."

Spencer was quick to reply, "Oh, well why don't you just ride with me? Riding with another person is thirty to fifty percent more safe than being alone, especially while intoxicated. Uh, you can just spend the night, I know you live further away and I'm sure you're tired."

"Thanks, Spence. I'll pay you back," You offered as the two of you walked outside. You felt a chill run up your spine due to the cold, September air.

"It's no problem." Spencer nodded, reaching over to slightly tighten your scarf. The touch of his fingertips on your neck was enough to warm you up completely.

Penelope gave you one last squeeze as you hopped inside the cab with Spencer. The ride would only be fifteen minutes away from his apartment, which wasn't bad.

You stared out the window, watching as it fogged. You dragged your finger over the condensation, drawing yourself a little picture to keep occupied. Your eyes cast up on their own, deciding to focus on the reflection in the window. You were sure glad they did. Spencer was staring at you, unaware that you could see him. His stare sent another round of shivers down your spine.

Always the gentleman, Spencer helped you out of the car once you'd arrived to his apartment. It hit you that you'd actually never been to Spencer's apartment before. You wondered if it looked anything like you'd imagined.

And it was. Exactly as you'd imagined, actually. Dim, warm lights that gave a cozy feeling. He had a brown, leather couch with a green blanket over the top. Books were scattered all over the apartment, but it was done neatly. They were probably organized in a way that would only make sense to Spencer.

"Sorry it's such a mess," Spencer apologized, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's not at all," You replied. "I guess you've never seen my place."

Spencer hummed, "I haven't."

Being a good host, Spencer offered to make you some tea. You sat at his island while he poured some water in a kettle to heat up.

"So, you know you can be honest with me, right?" You decided to awkwardly start a conversation. The silence was just not doing it for you.

"Of course I know that," Spencer nodded. His back was turned to you as he prepped your mugs.

You shook off your nerves, "Did you actually not sleep with Lila Archer?"

Spencer turned around at your words. "I didn't sleep with Lila Archer." He confirmed. "If I did, you know Morgan wouldn't stop talking about it for the rest of our lives."

A small chuckle came from you. "He really wouldn't." You mused.

"Plus, she's, uh, not my type." Spencer boldly continued after a pause of silence.

"What is your type?" You asked curiously, heart increasing, a deep hope he said you were his type.

"I don't know." Spencer mumbled.

The kettle began to whistle, you could see Spencer's body physically relax at this. A distraction. He passed you the tea which you graciously thanked him for. The two of you sat in a comforting silence as you drank.

Spencer looked so gorgeous in this way. His hair was a bit disheveled, untamed from the long flight. His eyes held no signs of tiredness. Your case was in California. You'd left this morning. He must've also slept the whole way home. His brown locks mesmerized you. Oh, how you wanted to curl your fingers in them. Not to mention the ghost of stubble on his face. You imagined tracing your fingers over it softly, wishing to feel him shiver under your touch.

Maybe it was the remaining alcohol still in your system, or maybe pining after him wasn't doing it anymore. You don't know what came over you when you leaned forward, your nose nearly touching his.

Spencer didn't move, you didn't move. It was an odd standoff. "Spence," You softly mumbled his name. You could see his eyes staring down- oh. At your lips. Somehow, you knew he wouldn't do it You watched the way his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed a gulp of nerves.

It was like he couldn't speak. But you knew it the moment you locked eyes again. You'd know that look anywhere; desperation. It was probably gleaming in your eyes, too. You could definitely feel it.

A sudden wave of confidence crashed over you and you felt yourself pushing your lips against Spencer’s. It took him maybe a full second to process what was happening. His large hands came to grab your face, pressing you closer to him. The kiss felt like nothing you’d expected of Spencer. He took control over the situation quickly. He pushed against you hard, slipping his tongue between your slightly parted lips. It was messy, rough, yet filled with such genuine passion it was dizzying.

“Spence,” You pulled back breathlessly. His eyes were filled with something new, something more lustful.

He softly shushed you, hands still on your face, pulling you back in. It was slightly teeth-clashing, hot. “I’ve been waiting for this,” Spencer muttered between kisses, his voice a near whine. “Just couldn’t make the first move.”

Spencer pulled back, rushing around the counter to where you sat. He pushed apart your legs to stand in between them. His fingers grabbed your chin, thumb on it and his first finger under your chin. He gently forced your head to look up to him. His cheeks were flushed, and you assumed yours were a near identical reflection.

“Tell me what you want,” Spencer whispered. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give you anything, everything.”

“You, I just want you.”

That’s all it took for Spencer to kiss you again. your hands went around his neck to pull off his tie, your hands then moving to unbutton his dress shirt. His worked just as quickly to undo yours.

“Not here,” Spencer muttered, eyes falling to your half-bare chest. “My room’s down the hall.”

With Spencer’s hand in your own, you quickly ran to his bedroom, a soft giggle escaping your lips and how cliché this all felt. Spencer couldn’t help but smile at your amusement. You leapt onto his bed, landing on your knees as you wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the hair that ended on the back of his head.

“Hi, boy genius.” You smiled, voice soft and warm. It reminded Spencer of a hot vanilla latte, or maybe something like a cinnamon roll. Sweet, warm, delicious.

“Hi, pretty girl.” Spencer replied, thumb rubbing sweetly over your cheek.

You both stared into each others eyes for a moment, taking in the delicacy of the intimate moment. Spencer slowly pushed his lips onto yours. It was the most gentle kiss of the evening, and it reminded you that Spencer wasn’t doing this because he felt like it. No, you were his type. Not Lila, you.

Spencer and you slowly discarded the rest of your clothing, allowing Spencer to slowly drag his fingers over your bare skin, admiring your beauty. “You’re almost as beautiful as Aphrodite,” he muttered. “I would say prettier, but the ancient Greek believed it would curse whomever was called more beautiful because Aphrodite wanted to remain the most beautiful.”

Even during moments like this, you loved Spencer’s rambles. Slowly, Spencer began to kiss all around your jaw, moving down your neck and to your chest. Your hands found his hair as you arched into him. He spent some time licking and sucking on your chest, loving the way you sounded for him, the way you pulled on his hair. He loved the smell of your skin, how soft it felt beneath his lips and tongue.

“Spencer,” you whined, pulling harder on his hair.

The man looked up to you, eyes gleaming as his mouth popped off you with a small pop. “Yeah, baby?”

“I need more,” you replied.

“Like what?” Spencer teased, slowly dragging his finger down your stomach. “Need more here?” He asked, playfully biting at your chest. “Or… here?” Spencer’s fingers trailed over your thigh, slowly moving from the inside to the out.

You groaned, “Oh, there! Please, there!”

Spencer also groaned in reply, “Didn’t take you as a begger,” he muttered. “but I love it.”

Slowly, Spencer moved his finger to your aching core. It slowly ran through your folds, causing you to moan loudly. “Spence,”

“Is this all for me?” Spencer cockily asked, referring to your wetness. You nodded quickly, pulling him down to kiss you once more. As he kissed you, he slid a finger inside, just to the first knuckle to gather some of your slick. He brought it back out and slowly began to circle your clit with it. Pulling back from the kiss, you became a mess of moans, whines, and breathy sounds. Spencer slowly kissed up and down your neck as he played with your sensitive bundle of nerves. “This enough for you, baby?”

“Inside,” you stumble out. “Please, inside me.”

Spencer couldn’t help but give you exactly what you wanted. How could he when you begged so nicely for him? He brought that same finger back inside, plunging it until it reached his final knuckle. Slowly, he began to pump it in and out of you, allowing you grace to adjust to the new object inside you.

“How’s that?” Spencer asked.

“Good, so good,” You babbled.

His finger multiplied and became two. They pumped in and out, adding slight curls to his fingers every now and again. His thumb went back to your clit, slowly rubbing it for added pleasure. “This what you wanted, sweet girl? This what you’ve imagined me doing to you?”

“Yes, yes!” You moaned.

Spencer smiled, “I’m not going to lie, I’ve imagined this moment for the last year.” In any other occasion, you would’ve became bashful at the declaration, but you were already too far gone with the alcohol and pleasure in your system.

It was then Spencer’s fingers hit your soft spot, causing your back to arch. “Oh, baby!” You cried out, grabbing onto the man above you and wrapping your legs around his waist to feel him deeper.

“There?” He asked.

“Oh, yes! There!” You answered quickly.

Spencer worked his magic, adding another finger as you stretched for him. It didn’t take long for your first orgasm to hit you like a sea of stars. Spencer softly shushed you, helping you relax.

“You okay?” Spencer smoothed your hair as he looked at you carefully.

You nodded, “Please, Spence. I want you.”

Spencer wasted no time lining himself up with you, allowing some of your slick to gather on his hard-on. He pushed in, causing you both to groan in unison.

“Oh my god,” he breathlessly said. “You’re so tight, oh my god. Baby, you feel so good.” His voice raised, slightly higher than normal as he resisted the urge to move until you said so.

“Move, move, please,” You told him. He wasted no time pushing his hips forward and backward, pulling your legs up around his hips once more.

He fit you so good, so right. Everything in that moment felt perfect, like he was made for you. You were made for him. It took Spencer less than a minute to be snapping his hips in record time. You felt like your eyes were going to roll back at the pleasure.

Spencer grabbed your chin the way he did earlier, “Look at me, baby. Wanna see your pretty eyes.”

Still reeling from your last orgasm, it took you no time to feel your climax approaching once more. “Spence, I need to come,”

“Not yet,” He groaned. “‘M almost there, baby. Hold on,” You felt a loud whine emit from your throat. The sound of it made Spencer’s dick throb, and you felt it. “Doing so good for me, honey. Oh, god, I’m almost there. So good.”

You were on the brink of orgasm. You weren’t sure if you could hold it any longer. “Spencer!”

“Where?” He asked.

“In, oh my god,” You practically were yelling at this point.

“Let go, baby,” Spencer’s words were all you needed to finally reach that sweet, sweet release again. You felt him spill inside you, the warmth making your orgasm feel even better. Spencer’s arms slowly gave out above you, and he slowly fell onto your chest. He pressed his lips to your hair, a sweet gesture.

The two of you laid there, catching your breath. You played with Spencer’s curls as he gently rubbed your cheek with his thumb. “I kind of have a crush on you,” You admitted jokingly, knowing he knew.

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “I do too.” He sat up, pulling out of you. You wished he didn’t; it felt so empty. “You gotta go pee, right?”

“Yeah,” You groaned lazily, slowly sitting up. “Hey, you’re gonna take me on a date after this, right?”

Spencer nodded with a smile, “I already have it planned. Now, go use the bathroom so we can fall asleep together.”

You mock saluted at him, “Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.”

Who knew your night out would lead to the best night of your life?

[the-librarby]

FANCY SEEING YOU HERE

- DANTE SPARDA (DMC)

Riding that bandwagon, don’t ask me about my dmc credentials.

Part two Part three Part four

It had been a simple induction process, a quick cash grab of a job opportunity. Nothing too hard about a receptionist job, right?

Wrong.

What your boss failed to tell you is that he had no fucking idea what he was doing. Or really, he did, but then too many contracts started rolling in for his system to continue working. Which is where you came in, it took a few months but everything has finally been streamlined. Clients rolled in, and you assigned them to the relevant hunter.

It had been a quiet morning, as far as quiet can be when you got a text from your boss, Enzo. Enzo didn’t contact you much, you pretty much had everything handled, as he would say, so he would only check in when there was a major change or someone returning to the roster. This was no different.

Dante is dropping in. Major mission wrapped up. Look after yourself he’s a handful.

You squinted, Dante is a new name you haven’t seen before meaning he’s a new, or old, hunter you haven’t met yet. You’ve met plenty of hunters that were a handful, so the text didn’t throw you off that much, you just made a note of it and moved on about your day.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that your door burst open abruptly, door handle smacking loudly into the wall. Now this pissed you off, because you had just finally got the message across to all hunters that you did not appreciate their barbaric manners, and it seems one hunter missed the memo.

Before the hunter’s red leather trench could settle, you flicked your finger towards the door, “Out.”

The hunter paused, frozen in his place. You watched as he scanned his surroundings, taking in the new office which you have basically personalised to your tastes considering Enzo never really did anything with it. After a cursory glance to disarm his scepticism, he looked at you. Taking your features and finally registering what you said.

“What?” He blurted.

“Get out.” You repeated, sterner.

“Do I have the right place? Where’s Enzo?” He swung his head behind the door as if checking a hiding place.

You pointed at the door once again, before looking back at your computer, “You must be Dante,” you could see him perk up from over the frame of your glasses, “I can answer all your questions, but not until you enter my office with some respect,”

“Your office? This isn’t—”

You glanced up at him momentarily, refusing to humour him any longer. Having sense this, he laughed in disbelief.

“Listen doll, I just came back from a long ass mission, I am not in the mood for mind games,”

You leaned back in your chair, and smiled, “Manners aren’t a mind game, and I don’t feel like fucking around with your attitude just because you’re tired,”

As if bitten by your response, he stepped back and crossed his arms, really staring you down now. It was only about a minute but it felt like ten before he started retreating. You watched him walk back out of your office, the door clicking in place as he left. You crossed your arms over your chest, a full moment passes before you hear it.

A knock at your door.

This makes you smile, finding it almost impossible to consider that a knock could hold an attitude. You make him wait, shuffle a few papers around before sitting back, crossing one leg over the other.

“Come in,” you chime.

The white haired hunter steps through once again, with careful grace this time, he keeps his eyes glued to you as he softly closes the door behind him. Making a sarcastic demonstration of it, yes, but most certainly looking for your approval as he does so.

Finally you stand from your chair, even with the desk separating you, the height difference is stark. You outstretch your hand, “You must be Dante, Enzo told me you’d be arriving today. How was the mission?”

He looked at your hand, then back at you, “Successful, if a bit boring,” he accepts your hand, holding on long enough to make you a tad uneasy. “Who are you?”

You pull away but only because he loosens his grip, “Enzo’s receptionist,”

At this, Dante bursts into laughter, clutching onto his stomach as if you have said the most hilarious thing in the world. This grates on your nerves slightly, not seeing humour in your statement.

After a moment he stands, wiping a tear, “A receptionist? Enzo’s receptionist? I’m sorry sweetheart, it’s not funny. Are you sure we’re talking about the same Enzo?” He sniffles, “Sleezy, short little man Enzo? The same guy that can barely manage himself let alone staff.”

You point to the chair in front of your desk, he follows your gesture as you walk around to meet him, sitting on the corner adjacent to him.

You smile, humoured, “The very same if you can believe it,”

“I can’t,” he interjects, looking around the room once more, “I can see you’ve done a lot with the place, maybe I was away longer than I thought. Is Enzo respectable now?”

You snort, “Not at all,”

He chuckles, taking a deep breath before relaxing back into his seat. You watch as his shoulders unwind, leg crossing over his knee as his hands clutch together in his lap. It’s now that you can finally see him without obstructed view. He’s wearing fingerless leather gloves, a long red leather trench, by all means should be uncomfortable with how it hugs his biceps, but makes it seem like the most comfortable thing in the world. This thighs fill out his heavy black pants, honestly, it’s hiding nothing.

A cough breaks you out of your trance, only to bring you back with a knowing smile, “Do I get an introduction too?”

You smirk, crossing your arms over your chest, “Already? I was starting to get used to the pet names,”

His eyes seem to spark, something igniting in him. He leans forward inquisitively, “Really? That do it for you, doll?”

Before you can respond, your office phone starts to ring, it’s an old dingy landline because Enzo refuses to upgrade something unless it’s disintegrated. You lean back to reach for it behind you. Dante zeros in on your outstretched thighs before him at your distraction, he almost drools at the way your skirt rides slightly up your stockings as you grab the phone off the hook.

He can faintly hear you talking as he watches the way you absently rub your thighs together, “At seven? Where? Do I get paid overtime?” He watches as your fingers wrap around the cord, a playful smile on your lips, “Alright, just checking. Yeah I’ll be there.”

You look over at him, only to see him already looking back with a quirked eyebrow, “Yeah, he’s here,” a frown creases your eyebrows, “Yes, here, as in sitting in my office, what else could I mean? Alright give me a sec.”

Dante watches as you pull the phone away from your ear and stretch it out towards him, “For you, sweetheart,” you wink.

Oh, he’s going to have so much fun with you. He smirks, standing up in the minimal space between you and the desk. Only because he’s concerned the phone line won’t reach, thighs bumps together as his hand envelops yours, bringing the receiver to his ear.

You frown in confusion, your hand caught like a fish on a line as he makes you hold the phone against his ear. He’s staring at you with a smile, you’re so close that you can hear the conversation.

“Dante! How’s my favourite son? Back from the mission in one piece I hear,”

Dante hums, adjusting closer as he speaks, “Yep, all pieces are accounted for. The important ones anyway,”

Enzo cackles at the sleazy joke, “Have you met my new receptionist? That’s right, I’m moving on up in the world, a real business man I am Dante,”

His eyes flick towards yours, holding contact as he responds, “Yeah, she’s a real doll, a stickler for hospitality,”

You roll your eyes, kicking his shin in retaliation, without flinching his hand rests above your knee to cease your jerking like a parent would to a child.

“ Treat her well Dante, she’s the only person holding down the fort for me, if you scare her away I won’t forgive you until I see you grovelling for forgiveness,” he threatens, “Her forgiveness.”

This warms your heart, you’ve come to like Enzo in all his incompetent ways, it’s nice to hear him talk about you so fiercely towards others.

Dante sighs, his hand moving from your knee to the desk beside your thighs. You’re caged in now with your hand against his ear, and his body leaned in close. You can only lean so far back without compromising your position.

“No getting rid of her then huh? Guess I’ll have to get comfortable.”

You’re only half listening to the conversation now, having been distracted by the amulet hanging in front of you. Its ruby gem swings gently in the open space of Dante’s shirt, when he leans forward you catch a glimpse further underneath. He’s built, from what you can tell even with his heavy layers, but he’s not the biggest hunter you’ve seen. Something under the surface has your senses on edge though, like there’s more to him that you’re not seeing, yet.

A gentle pinch to your thigh has you clueing back in. Dante is looking at you with a knowing smirk, as he hums into the receiver, “I’ll be there. Can’t believe you’re putting me to work already, I should call Human Resources. This is an unfair workload.”

“Yada, yada, yada. You know you’re my favourite, now make papa proud, I’ll text ya later.”

Dante straightens up as the call ends, letting you put the phone back on its hook. You look up at him from your seated place on the desk, thighs still pressed against each other, in an act of misplaced confidence, you reach up to flick a piece of imaginary dust off his jacket.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you in action tonight,” you muse.

Dante hums, “You can see me in action a lot sooner if you’d like.”

You shove him back before he can place his hands on you, “Don’t be crude,” you hop off your desk, shifting your skirt back down your legs, “I’ll meet you there? 7pm sharp at the front doors,”

He nods, “7pm sharp at the front doors,” he reiterates, walking towards your office exit, before he leaves he looks over his shoulder at you, “Wear something nice, something that will make the other men jealous of me. Can’t be that hard right?”

You roll your eyes. When the door clicks shut behind him, you exhale deeply. You had a feeling this mission was going to get way out of hand.

[citranna]

There’s a new kid in Park Row.

Jason knows every single kid on the street, and this one is distinctly not one of them. Hell, judging by that scraggly bright red sweater, he’d be surprised if he’s even from Gotham. Still, the beat up sneakers and pants that are one size too small show he’s not gonna be a target for robbery.

He’s been here for about what, two weeks now? The kid’s been popping in and out of corridors and thin gaps between buildings, alert, without having a solid address. He hasn’t been seen with anyone consistently either. No parents, probably. If he had any Jason would’ve figured out where they live by now. The question is why he’s here. What could a street kid be looking for in Gotham that he wouldn’t get in his (most likely) better home city?

He’s careful when approaching him. The helmet scares the little ones, so he dawns his domino instead. Hands up and away from his body and at a respectable distance, Hood greets him.

“Hey kid.”

The boy turns his head around quick, eyebrows shooting to the top of his head before his eyes alight with recognition. Good, he knows him. It’ll make things easier. An uneasy smile spreads across the kids lips as he offers a small wave in greeting.

“Yeah, nice to meet you. What brings you to Park Row? You looking for something?”

The boy does nothing but shrug. Real helpful. Then again, it could be because…

“Can you speak?”

He brings his hand up and tilts it side to side. A symbol for ‘So-so, ish’. He could work with that, weirder shit has happened in this alley. He fishes into his breast pocket for a notepad and pen, thankful the kid doesn’t seem panicked in the slightest at the motion. Carefully, he draws closer to hand him the items.

Up close and directly under the moonlight, the kid looks around ten, but if he’s anything like the kids in the alley and himself at that age, he’s probably malnourished. He’s probably more like twelve, give or take.

The boy nods his head in thanks (cute that he has such good manners) and scribbles down a sentence in okay-ish handwriting, turning the pad to show Jason.

‘Can’t talk right now, lost my voice. I’m just looking around here.’

Jason scoffs. “There’s better places to look around, y’know, even if you don’t got cash. If this is just for fun I’d pick a better, cooler spot.”

Another line gets jotted down, faster than the last. ‘It’s cool, I think. It’s nice in its own way. I won’t be staying for much longer anyways.’

Interesting. His mouth opens to ask for more, but he finds itself quickly slamming shut. Although this kid is among the most friendly and open one he’s met (and oddly a smooth talker too—Jason feels compelled to just believe him and not question him further, but he’s able to push that weird feeling down) but it’s probably best not to push his luck and pry further.

“Cool, cool. If you ever need a place to stay for the night, there’s a new shelter right down the street we just built. My uh…office, is nearby too.”

The kid nods, a glint of knowing mischief in his eye. Jason waves, letting him walk calmly away from the direction of the shelter and straight towards the subway system where he disappears every night.

Yeah. Gotham’s definitely haunted.

[gloomwitchwrites]

First of all, love reading your imagine stuff with the 141. I am exhausted today like every day and it’s all my fault because I stay up till 3am, sometimes even 5am reading a book, scrolling through tumblr or instagram. And I thought last night, damn, I really just need someone to take away my item and make me go to sleep. I bet you would have some great ideas for if the boys woke up in the middle of the night alone and find us elsewhere doomscrolling or reading when we should be sleeping. Thank you thank you. Love you

We must be the same person because I do this some days. There’s a term for it, like evening revenge or something, where we reclaim our nights for things we enjoy because our days are filled with things we don’t want to do. I’m going to explore this through headcanons rather than imagines, but I know that each of them would be done with us in their own way.

written w/ gn!reader

Gaz already knows your habits and routines. You’re never staying up late if he’s home. He holds you accountable even though you hate it. And if you decide to creep out of bed, expect Gaz to wake up the moment you slip away, following you to herd you right back to bed.

Soap hardly holds himself accountable, so when you say “you’ll head to bed in a bit,” he believes you. If you don’t come to bed right away, this man will come find you like a pathetic puppy, bothering you until he can drag you to bed.

Ghost refuses to go to bed without you. There is no “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Ghost times it, and if you’re not in bed by that time, he’s coming to get you, no excuses. And just to make sure you don’t slip away in the night, he’ll purposefully lay on top of you, crushing you to the bed so you can’t escape.

Price always reminds you how tired you are in the morning, and suggests you skip the doomscrolling. After one too many complaints on your end, Price decides it’s time to create a rewards system. Go to bed on time? Earn a gold star. Earn enough stars and you can cash them in for little rewards. The more stars you cash in, the bigger the reward.

CoD Headcanons / AUs / Quick Writes Masterlist

[aeth-eris]

★ financial guide for the rising signs [2nd, 6th, 10th] ★

★ aries rising ★

your financial success is built on consistency and long-term stability, not quick wins. with taurus ruling your 2nd house, money grows when you treat wealth like a garden, planting seeds that will pay off over time. you thrive financially when you own assets, build slow but steady income streams, and develop financial patience. stop chasing instant gratification—your wealth is strongest when it’s rooted in something tangible. luxury and financial comfort are meant for you, but you have to build them brick by brick.

your 6th house in virgo makes you a high-efficiency worker, someone who functions best when there’s structure, organization, and refinement. you make money by perfecting a craft, streamlining processes, and offering exceptional value. your best financial move is to create a system that allows you to scale your work efficiently. you’re at your worst when you’re working aimlessly without a clear financial plan.

your 10th house in capricorn means you were born to lead, build, and accumulate wealth over time. you’re meant for legacy careers, business ownership, and high-status roles. people respect you when you take charge, so stop underpricing yourself or playing small.

how to make money effectively:

develop long-term wealth strategies—real estate, investments, high-end services

charge premium rates for expertise and reputation

create a financial structure that supports stability

what to avoid:

chasing quick, unstable money

overworking without a strategy

switching careers before establishing mastery

★ taurus rising ★

your financial power is in communication, adaptability, and multiple income streams. with gemini ruling your 2nd house, money flows to you when you leverage your voice, ideas, and connections. financial success doesn’t come from routine—it comes from diversity in income sources. you are meant to write, teach, sell, or speak your way into wealth. the more financial channels you open, the more money circulates to you.

your 6th house in libra means you work best in aesthetic, harmonious, and collaborative environments. you aren’t built for chaotic, high-stress jobs. you thrive in team settings, networking-based careers, and industries that blend beauty with logic. financial stability comes when you learn to balance your workload instead of overextending yourself.

your 10th house in aquarius demands an unconventional, tech-forward career path. you are meant to break traditional job structures, innovate, and align with futuristic industries. you do best in digital entrepreneurship, social media, trend forecasting, or anything that involves forward-thinking ideas.

how to make money effectively:

monetize your ability to communicate and teach

build multiple income streams—investments, digital products, freelancing

work in tech, media, or networking-heavy industries

what to avoid:

relying on one static job

working in environments that lack creativity

ignoring opportunities in digital markets

★ gemini rising ★

your wealth is deeply emotional, tied to security, intuition, and financial comfort. with cancer in your 2nd house, money doesn’t just pay the bills—it makes you feel safe, nurtured, and at home. your income thrives when you create financial stability through consistent cash flow, savings, and emotional alignment. financial stress deeply affects you, so it’s essential to prioritize steady income rather than risky financial ventures.

your 6th house in scorpio makes you a deep, obsessive worker. you aren’t interested in shallow or meaningless tasks—you work best when you’re fully immersed in something that feels powerful. your financial strength comes from mastering hidden knowledge, psychology, finance, or investigative work.

your 10th house in pisces means your career should be intuitive, creative, or healing-based. you excel in spirituality, psychology, creative arts, or behind-the-scenes industries. your wealth is strongest when you trust your intuition in financial decisions and align with work that feels meaningful.

how to make money effectively:

build a secure financial base to reduce stress

monetize your intuition, creativity, or depth of knowledge

work in psychology, spirituality, creative arts, or research fields

what to avoid:

taking jobs that feel emotionally unfulfilling

working in environments that lack depth or purpose

ignoring financial planning and relying on instinct alone

★ cancer rising ★

your financial success is built on self-worth, confidence, and personal branding. with leo ruling your 2nd house, money flows when you own your value, embrace leadership, and position yourself as someone who deserves high earnings. you don’t attract wealth through small, quiet roles—you thrive when you command attention and make bold financial moves. underpricing yourself or working behind the scenes limits your wealth potential. financial success comes when you set premium rates, build a reputation, and confidently market yourself.

your 6th house in sagittarius means you work best in free-flowing, exploratory environments. you’re not designed for strict routines or micromanagement—you need variety, freedom, and adventure in your work. you thrive when you’re constantly learning, traveling, or expanding your knowledge.

your 10th house in aries makes you a self-made success. you aren’t meant to follow a traditional career path—you’re supposed to take risks, initiate projects, and carve your own way. your professional reputation grows when you move fast, innovate, and trust yourself to lead.

how to make money effectively:

charge higher prices and position yourself as an expert

monetize your personal brand, leadership skills, and visibility

choose work that offers freedom, travel, and expansion

what to avoid:

waiting for permission or validation before taking financial risks

settling for low-paying jobs that don’t challenge you

forcing yourself into structured, routine-based work

★ leo rising ★

your financial success is built on precision, planning, and efficiency. with virgo in your 2nd house, money comes when you treat your finances like a system—organized, methodical, and structured. you thrive when you budget carefully, invest in skill-building, and refine your financial strategy. spontaneous spending or reckless investments disrupt your natural wealth flow. success happens when you track income meticulously and build sustainable wealth through careful management.

your 6th house in capricorn makes you a relentless worker. you have an intense work ethic, but you need to ensure that your effort leads to long-term success rather than just grinding for survival. your wealth expands when you commit to one field and steadily rise through the ranks.

your 10th house in taurus means your career should be stable, luxurious, and built for long-term wealth. you are meant to own property, invest in high-end businesses, or work in industries that prioritize security and financial stability.

how to make money effectively:

build financial routines and long-term wealth strategies

focus on high-quality work that leads to reputation and authority

invest in tangible wealth like property, luxury markets, and stable industries

what to avoid:

working endlessly without a clear financial plan

undervaluing your expertise and meticulous skills

making impulsive financial choices instead of planning ahead

★ virgo rising ★

your financial success is tied to relationships, aesthetics, and social influence. with libra in your 2nd house, money flows when you use charm, partnerships, and artistic talents to generate wealth. your earning potential expands when you surround yourself with financially successful people and work in industries that blend beauty, balance, and intelligence.

your 6th house in aquarius means you work best in unconventional, flexible environments. you aren’t designed for traditional 9-to-5 jobs—you thrive when you can innovate, experiment, and work on your own terms. your wealth builds when you stay ahead of trends and tap into progressive industries.

your 10th house in gemini means your career should involve communication, education, and media. you excel when you’re writing, speaking, teaching, or sharing ideas with the public.

how to make money effectively:

leverage social connections, networking, and collaborations

work in aesthetic industries like fashion, branding, design, or public relations

monetize your voice, writing, or ability to share knowledge

what to avoid:

working in rigid, traditional jobs that limit your creativity

avoiding financial discussions or neglecting money management

sticking to one income source instead of diversifying

★ libra rising ★

your financial power is rooted in secrecy, transformation, and hidden wealth. with scorpio in your 2nd house, money isn’t just about earning—it’s about long-term accumulation, financial control, and strategic investments. you are meant to build private wealth, passive income, and financial independence through methods that aren’t obvious to others. your money grows when you invest wisely, keep your financial moves private, and create wealth that isn’t easily disrupted.

your 6th house in pisces makes you a fluid, intuitive worker. you function best when you can follow inspiration rather than rigid schedules. your work needs to feel meaningful, creative, or spiritually aligned.

your 10th house in cancer means your career should be emotionally connected, nurturing, and deeply fulfilling. you thrive in real estate, finance, healing professions, or work that allows you to support others.

how to make money effectively:

build passive income and long-term wealth strategies

work in finance, psychology, healing, or real estate

keep your financial success private—money grows best when protected from outside influence

what to avoid:

oversharing your financial plans before they manifest

choosing jobs that feel shallow or emotionally unfulfilling

avoiding money management out of fear of instability

★ scorpio rising ★

your financial success comes from expansion, risk-taking, and trusting your instincts. with sagittarius in your 2nd house, money doesn’t come through slow accumulation—it comes through big leaps, bold decisions, and aligned opportunities. financial growth happens when you invest in yourself, take strategic risks, and follow your gut on money matters.

your 6th house in aries makes you a fast-paced, action-driven worker. you work best when you can move quickly, make independent decisions, and avoid unnecessary bureaucracy.

your 10th house in leo means your career should be high-profile, leadership-based, and tied to personal recognition. you are meant to be seen, respected, and known for your achievements.

how to make money effectively:

take calculated financial risks—investments, entrepreneurship, or industry leadership

monetize your personal brand and leadership skills

position yourself in high-visibility roles where people trust your expertise

what to avoid:

playing small in low-status roles that don’t challenge you

waiting too long to take financial risks and expand

ignoring financial planning in favor of short-term wins

★ sagittarius rising ★

your financial success is built on discipline, long-term planning, and strategic wealth-building. with capricorn in your 2nd house, money doesn’t come from luck—it comes from calculated effort, financial responsibility, and structured income streams. you are meant to accumulate wealth slowly and steadily, focusing on stability over quick money. financial success happens when you treat money seriously, create structured goals, and build assets that appreciate over time.

your 6th house in taurus makes you a consistent, hardworking employee or business owner. you thrive in stable, predictable work environments where your effort compounds over time. financial success is strongest when you create a routine that guarantees steady progress toward your goals.

your 10th house in virgo means your career should be practical, analytical, and detail-oriented. you excel in careers that require precision, problem-solving, and a structured approach to success. your path to wealth involves mastering a craft, refining your skills, and gaining a reputation for reliability.

how to make money effectively:

build structured financial plans and investment portfolios

work in industries that reward consistency, expertise, and long-term strategy

create multiple revenue streams that grow over time

what to avoid:

relying on short-term gains instead of sustainable wealth-building

working in unstable jobs with no long-term potential

ignoring financial planning and delaying wealth accumulation

★ capricorn rising ★

your financial success is tied to innovation, technology, and unconventional wealth-building methods. with aquarius in your 2nd house, money flows when you break away from traditional financial structures and embrace modern, progressive income sources. your wealth isn’t built through slow accumulation—it’s built through disrupting old systems, networking, and staying ahead of trends. financial success happens when you embrace new industries, invest in digital business, and use social influence to expand your financial reach.

your 6th house in gemini makes you a multitasking, fast-paced worker. you thrive in careers that keep your mind engaged, allow for constant learning, and involve communication or technology. your best financial move is to build diverse income streams rather than relying on one job.

your 10th house in libra means your career should involve social connections, aesthetics, or partnership-based industries. you succeed when you leverage your ability to connect people, create beauty, or navigate business relationships effectively.

how to make money effectively:

invest in tech-driven businesses, digital markets, and networking opportunities

create flexible income streams that allow financial independence

work in industries that prioritize aesthetics, relationships, or innovation

what to avoid:

following outdated financial models instead of embracing new ones

working in rigid, creativity-stifling jobs

ignoring opportunities that involve social influence or technology

★ aquarius rising ★

your financial success is built on intuition, creativity, and fluid income streams. with pisces in your 2nd house, money flows to you when you trust your instincts, embrace imaginative work, and allow wealth to come to you rather than chasing it. you don’t follow traditional financial rules—you manifest wealth through subconscious alignment, creativity, and spiritual awareness. financial success happens when you remove limiting beliefs around money and let abundance flow naturally.

your 6th house in cancer makes you an emotionally driven worker. you function best when your job feels meaningful, nurturing, and deeply connected to your values. you can’t thrive in cold, impersonal workplaces—you need a work environment that feels supportive and emotionally fulfilling.

your 10th house in scorpio means your career should be deep, powerful, and transformative. you succeed in roles that involve research, healing, finance, or uncovering hidden knowledge.

how to make money effectively:

monetize your creativity, spirituality, or intuitive skills

create passive income streams that let money flow without constant effort

work in industries that involve healing, psychology, or artistic expression

what to avoid:

following strict financial plans that don’t align with your natural flow

working in emotionally draining jobs that don’t fulfill you

ignoring your natural ability to manifest wealth effortlessly

★ pisces rising ★

your financial success is built on bold action, independence, and high-energy decision-making. with aries in your 2nd house, money doesn’t come from waiting—it comes from taking risks, trusting your instincts, and constantly staying in motion. you don’t accumulate wealth through slow, careful planning—you build it by jumping on opportunities, acting fast, and believing in yourself. financial success happens when you take charge of your earnings and don’t hesitate to claim financial independence.

your 6th house in leo makes you a natural performer and leader in the workplace. you thrive in high-energy jobs where you can be recognized, admired, and rewarded for your hard work. your best financial move is to put yourself in visible positions where people trust and follow your expertise.

your 10th house in sagittarius means your career should involve travel, adventure, and continuous expansion. you succeed when you embrace new experiences, follow your passions, and take risks in your professional life.

how to make money effectively:

take bold financial risks that align with your instincts

build a personal brand that makes you stand out in your field

work in industries that offer freedom, independence, and high rewards

what to avoid:

hesitating too long before making financial decisions

staying in jobs that don’t allow you to be seen or recognized

ignoring your need for financial independence and self-driven success

★ book a reading ★ ★ masterlist 1 ★ ★ masterlist 2 ★

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A profoundly stupid case about video game cheating could transform adblocking into a copyright infringement

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

Here's a weird consequence of our societal shift from capitalism (where riches come from profits) to feudalism (where riches come from rents): increasingly, your rights to your actual property (the physical stuff you own) are trumped by corporations' metaphorical "intellectual property" claims.

That's a lot to unpack! Let's start with a quick primer on profits and rents. Capitalists invest money in buying equipment, then they pay workers wages to use that equipment to produce goods and services. Profit is the sum a capitalist takes home from this arrangement: money made from paying workers to do productive things.

Now, rents: "rent" is the money a rentier makes by owning a "factor of production": something the capitalist needs in order to make profits. Capitalists risk their capital to get profits, but rents are heavily insulated from risk.

For example: a coffee shop owner buys espresso machines, hires baristas, and rents a storefront. If they do well, the landlord can raise their rent, denying them profits and increasing rents. But! If a great new cafe opens across the street and the coffee shop owner goes broke, the landlord is in great shape, because they now have a vacant storefront they can rent, and they can charge extra for a prime location across the street from the hottest new coffee shop in town.

The "moral philosophers" that today's self-described capitalists claim to worship – Adam Smith, David Ricardo – hated rents. For them, profits were the moral way to get rich, because when capitalists chase profits, they necessarily chase the production of things that people want.

When rentiers chase rents, they do so at the expense of profits. Every dollar a capitalist pays in rent – licenses for IP, rent for a building, etc – is a dollar that can't be extracted in profit, and then reinvested in the production of more goods and services that society desires.

The "free markets" of Adam Smith weren't free from regulation, they were free from rents.

The moral philosophers' hatred of rents was really a hatred of feudalism. The industrial revolution wasn't merely (or even primarily) the triumph of new machines: rather, it was the triumph of profits over rent. For the industrial revolution to succeed, the feudal arrangement had to end. Capitalism is incompatible with hereditary lords receiving guaranteed rents from hereditary serfs who are legally obliged to work for them. Capitalism triumphed over feudalism when the serfs were turned off of the land (becoming the "free labor" who went to work in the textile mills) and the land itself was given over to sheep grazing (providing the wool for those same mills).

But that doesn't mean that the industrial revolution invented profits. Profits were to be found in feudal societies, wherever a wealthy person increased their wealth by investing in machines and hiring workers to use them. The thing that made feudalism feudal was how conflicts between rents and profits cashed out. For so long as the legal system elevated the claims of rentiers over the claims of capitalists, the society was feudal. Once the legal system gave priority to profit over rent, it became capitalist.

Capitalists hate capitalism. The engine of capitalism is insecurity. The successful capitalist is like the fastest gun in the old west: there's always a young gun out there looking to "disrupt" their fortune with a new invention, product, or organizational strategy that "creatively destroys" the successful businesses of the day and replaces them with new ones:

https://locusmag.com/2024/03/cory-doctorow-capitalists-hate-capitalism/

That's a hard way to live, with your every success serving as a blinking KICK ME sign visible to every ambitious person in the world. Precarity makes people miserable and nuts:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

So capitalists universally aspire to become rentiers and investors seek out companies that have a plan to extract rent. This is why Warren Buffett is so priapatic for companies with "moats and walls" – legal privileges and market structures that protect the business from competition and disruption:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/warren-buffett-explains-moat-principle-164442359.html

Feudal rents were mostly derived from land, but even in the feudal era, the king was known to reward loyal lickspittles with rents over ideas. The "patents royal" were the legally protected right to decide who could make or do certain things: for example, you might have a patent royal over the production of silver ribbon, and anyone who wanted to make a silver ribbon would have to pay for your permission. If you chose to grant that permission exclusively to one manufacturer, then no one else could make it, and you could charge a license fee to the manufacturer that accounted for nearly all their profit.

Today, rentiers are also interested in land. Bill Gates is the country's number one landowner, and in many towns, private equity landlords are snappinig up every single family home that hits the market and converting it to a badly maintained slum:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/22/koteswar-jay-gajavelli/#if-you-ever-go-to-houston

But the 21st Century's defining source of rent is "IP" – a controversial term that I use here to mean, "Any law or policy that allows a company to exert legal control over its competitors, critics and customers":

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

IP is in irreconcilable conflict with real property rights. Think of HP selling you a printer and wanting to decide which ink you use, or John Deere selling you a tractor and wanting to tell you who can fix it. Or, for that matter, Apple selling you a phone and dictating which software you are allowed to install on it.

Think of Unity, a company that makes tools for video-game makers, demanding a royalty from every game that is eventually sold, calling this "shared success":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

Every time one of these conflicts ends with IP's triumph over real property rights, that is a notch in favor of calling the world we live in now "technofeudalist" rather than "technocapitalist":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Once you start to think of "IP" as "laws that let me control how other people use their real property," a lot of the seemingly incoherent fights over IP snap into place. This also goes a long way to explaining how otherwise sensible people can agree on expansions of IP to achieve some short-term goal, irrespective of the spillover harms from such a move. Hard cases make bad law, and hard IP cases make terrible law.

Five years ago, some anti-fascist counterdemonstrators hit on the clever idea of blaring top 40 music during neo-Nazi marches, on the theory that this would prevent Nazis from uploading videos of their marches to Youtube and other platforms, whose filters would block any footage that included copyrighted music:

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/07/23/clever-hack-that-will-end-badly-playing-copyrighted-music-during-nazis-rallies-so-they-cant-be-posted-to-youtube/

Thankfully, this didn't work, but not for lack of trying. And it might still work, if calls for beefing up video copyright filters are heeded. Cops all over the place are already blaring Taylor Swift songs and Disney tunes to prevent their interactions with the public from being uploaded:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/07/moral-hazard-of-filternets/#dmas

The same thinking that causes progressives to recklessly argue in favor of upload filters also causes them to demand that web scraping be treated as a copyright crime. They think they're creating a world where AI companies can't rip off their creation to train a model; they're actually creating a world where the Internet Archive can't capture JD Vance's embarrassing old podcast appearances or newspaper editorial boards' advocacy for positions they now recant:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

It's not that Nazi marches are good, or that scraping can't be bad – it's just that advocating for the use of IP to address either is a cure that's not just worse than the disease – it's also not a cure.

A problem can be real, and still not be solvable with IP. I have enormous sympathy for gamers who rail against cheaters who use aftermarket hacks to improve their aim, see through buildings, or command other unfair advantages.

If you want to tell a stranger how they must configure their PC or console, IP ("any law that lets you control your competitors, critics or customers") is an obvious answer. But – as with other attempts to solve real problems with IP – this is a cure that is both worse than the disease, and also not a cure after all.

Back in 2002, Blizzard sued some hobbyists over a program called "bnetd." Bnetd was a program that provided a game-server you could connect to with the Blizzard games that you'd bought. It was created as an alternative to Battlenet, Blizzard's notoriously unreliable game-server software that left gamers frustrated and furious due to frequent outages:

https://www.eff.org/cases/blizzard-v-bnetd

To the public, Blizzard made several arguments against bnetd. They claimed that it encouraged piracy, because – unlike the official Battlenet servers – it didn't check whether the copies of Blizzard software that connected to it had a valid license key. Gamers didn't really care about that, but they did respond to another argument: that bnetd lacked the anti-cheat checking of Battlenet.

But that wasn't what Blizzard took to the court: in court, they argued that the hobbyists who made bnetd violated copyright law. Specifically, Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, which bans "circumvention of access controls to copyrighted works." Basically, Blizzard argued that bnetd's authors violated the law because they used debuggers to examine the software they'd paid for, while it ran on their own computers, to figure out how to make a game server of their own.

Blizzard didn't sue bnetd's authors for pirating Blizzard software (they didn't – they'd paid for their copies). They didn't sue them for abetting other gamers' piracy. They certainly didn't sue them for making a cheat-friendly game-server.

Blizzard sued them for analyzing software they'd paid for, while it was running on their own computers.

Imagine if Walmart – one of the biggest book-retailers in America – had a policy that said that you could only shelve the books you bought at Walmart on shelves that you also bought at Walmart. Now imagine that Walmart successfully argued that measuring the books you bought from them and using those measurements to create your own compatible book-case violated their IP rights!

This is an outrageous triumph of IP rights over real property rights, and yet gamers vocally backed Blizzard in the early noughts, because gamers hate cheaters and because IP law is (correctly) understood as "the law that lets a company tell you how you can use your own real, physical property." Hard cases make bad law, hard IP cases make batshit law.

It's more than 20 years since bnetd, and cheating continues to serve as a Trojan horse to smuggle in batshit new IP laws. In Germany, Sony is suing the cheat-device maker Datel:

https://torrentfreak.com/sonys-ancient-lawsuit-vs-cheat-device-heads-in-right-direction-sonys-defeat-240705/

Sony argues that the Datel device – which rewrites the contents of a player's device's RAM, at the direction of that player – infringes copyright. Sony claims that the values that its programs write to your device's RAM chips are copyrighted works that it has created, and that altering that copyrighted work makes an unauthorized derivative work, which infringes its copyright.

Yes, this is batshit, and thankfully, Sony has been thwarted in court to date, but it is steaming ahead to the EU's highest court. If it succeeds, then it will open up every tool that modifies your computer at your direction to this kind of claim.

How bad can it be? Well, get this: the German publishing giant Axel Springer (owned by a monomaniacal Trumpist and Israel hardliner who has ordered journalists in his US news outlets to go easy on both) is suing Eyeo, makers of Adblock Plus, on the grounds that changing HTML to block an ad creates a "derivative work" of Axel Springer's web-pages:

https://torrentfreak.com/ad-blocking-infringes-copyright-ancient-sony-cheat-lawsuit-may-prove-pivotal-240729/

Axel Springer's filings cite the Sony/Datel case, using it to argue that their IP rights trump your property rights, and that you can only configure your web-browser, running on your computer, which you own, in ways that it approves of.

Axel Springer's war on browsers is a particularly pernicious maneuver, because browsers are the best example we have of internet software that serves as a "user agent." "User agent" is an old-timey engineering synonym for "browser" that reflects the browser's role: to go out onto the web on your behalf and bring back things for you, which it displays in the way you prefer:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

Want to block flickering GIFs to forestall photosensitive epileptic servers? Ask your user agent to find and delete them. Want to shift colors into a gamut that accounts for your color-blindness? Ask your user-agent:

https://dankaminsky.com/2010/12/15/dankam/

Want to goose the font size and contrast so you can read the sadistic grey-on-white type that young designers use in the mistaken belief that black-on-white type is "hard on the eyes"? That's what Reader Mode is for:

https://frankgroeneveld.nl/2021/08/24/most-underused-browser-feature/

The foundation of any good digital relationship is a device that works for you, not for the people who own the servers you connect to. Even if they don't plan on screwing you over by directing your user agent to attack you on their behalf right now, the very existence of a facility in your technology that causes it to betray you, by design, is a moral hazard that inevitably results in your victimization:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

"IP" ("a law that lets me control how you use your own property") is a tempting solution to every problem, but ultimately, IP ends up magnifying the power of the already powerful, in contests where your only hope of victory is having a user agent whose only loyalty is to you.

The monotonic, dangerous expansion of IP reflects the growing victory of rents over profits – income from owning things, rather than income from doing things. Everyday people may argue for IP in the belief that it will solve their immediate problems – with AI, or Nazis, or in-game cheats – but ultimately, the expansion of a law that limits how you can use your property (including your capital) to uses that don't threaten neofeudalists will doom you to technoserfdom.

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

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/2024/07/29/faithful-user-agents/#hard-cases-make-bad-copyright-law

[angelicgirlmj]

an angels guide: before your first day back to school ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

hi angels! so for many of us it’s approaching back to school season. for lots of people this can be a bit of an anxiety inducing time, whether you are starting a new school year or kind of education there is alot to plan and prepare and get ready for - it can feel extremely overwhelming! here is my guide for having an organised and effective first day back at school to get you on track and motivated! enjoy and as always feel free to comment your own tips or advice.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

the week before ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

check through stationary and buy anything you need, check subject lists to see what is recommended as well. buy cute stationary in your favourite colours to motivate you!

sort through books, folders etc and organise notes, any loose pieces of paper and any important documents.

assign a folder to each subject, or if already have a folder check through and make sure it is organised and neat.

clear school emails etc, check through and organise into sections and respond to any. check for any information from your school regarding the upcoming year.

finish off any summer work and make sure it is all complete and ready to be handed in on the deadlines provided. check for any extra work if you have spare time, such as a book or article to read.

read up on the new syllabus/lesson plan for your subjects. familiarise yourself with how it looks, any new terms and any possible problem areas.

fix your sleep schedule! start going to bed earlier and waking up at the time you need to be up for school just to make it less of a shock to your system.

check your bag will fit everything and that any additionals such as a water bottle or lunch box are in good condition and to your tastes.

work on your morning/evening routines, plan when you will be doing work and make necessary changes.

figure out your fitness goals and routines - are they realistic for a full time student? time management is key.

if using apps such as notion, ensure it is set up for the new school year and neatly organised.

plan outfits, check through clothes in case in need of new underwear etc or wardrobe staples.

research healthy and nutritious lunch ideas (may make a post on this later!!), buy ingredients if needed.

do any ‘high maintenance’ things, get your nails done, lashes, eyebrows etc.

pack an emergency bag (pads/tampons, spare underwear, cash etc).

check any hygiene products and buy new ones/replace old ones if run out or in need of more!

do more self care, do a hair or face mask, do your own nails, watch your favourite films, have some you time before school starts again.

make a back to school playlist.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

the night before ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

eat a healthy dinner.

do face mask (use one you have tried before in case a new one causes a bad reaction).

oil hair + hair mask.

dry brush before shower.

wash out oil + masks, shampoo twice.

apply conditioner and leave in.

exfoliate and clean body with soap before shaving.

wash out conditioner and apply bath gel.

finish shower, hair routine (mine is in-depth i have curly hair!), apply body oils.

blowdry, diffuse or air dry hair depending on type.

apply body lotion and perfume.

make tea and drink while doing some journaling (what is my plan for tomorrow, what do i want to achieve etc)

pack bag and organise clothes.

clean teeth, floss and mouthwash.

do gua sha routine and ice face.

do pm skincare routine.

do nail care routine and out hair up for bed.

watch comfort show or read comfort book.

set alarm.

have an early night!

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

the day of ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

wake up nice and early.

do some yoga/stretching.

tidy room.

eat a healthy breakfast.

pack or plan lunch.

fill up water bottle.

check bag is fully packed.

check school timetable, make note of rooms etc.

have a quick shower if time (shave, body gel etc).

clean teeth and do am skincare.

get dressed.

journal and plan day.

put on back to school playlist!

head to school.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

thank you for reading angels! hope this was so helpful and have a wonderful back to school season. all my love, m.

[astroeleanor]

°💸⋆.ೃ🍾࿔*:･Your 2H Sign = How To Make More $$$ 💳⋆.ೃ💰࿔*:･

Your 2nd house is the part of your chart can show you the best side hustle ideas to increase your income. Look at the sign on your 2nd House cusp, its ruling planet, and any planets sitting there. They symbolize out how you monetize.

The 2nd House is the House of Possessions: movable assets, cash flow, food, tools, anything you can trade. The sign on the cusp sets up your style of 'acquisition' (Taurus = slow‑build goods, Scorpio = high‑risk high‑reward holdings), while the ruler’s dignity and aspects describe reliability, or lack thereof, of income.

Planets inside the 2nd act like tenants shaping the property: Jupiter here inflates resources, Saturn conserves but can pinch, Mars spends to make, Venus monetizes aesthetics.

Because the 2nd is in aversion to the Ascendant (no Ptolemaic aspect), you often have to develop its promises actively: wealth isn’t “you,” it’s something you must manage. So, let's look at the kind of side hustles you can do to increase your revenue!

♈︎ Aries 2H: Physical, Fast, ACTION-Driven

(Aries rules motion, competition, fire, physical activity, force)

Personal trainer or group fitness instructor.

Manual labor gigs like junk removal, or yard work (physical and gives instant results.)

Motorcycle/scooter delivery (Uber Eats, DoorDash): speed + autonomy? Very Aries.

Selling refurbished sports equipment.

Pressure washing services, which is oddly satisfying AND includes aggressive water blasting lol.

Fitness bootcamps in local parks (Mars rules the battlefield… or, in this case, bootcamps)

Pop-up self-defense workshops

Bike repair and resale (hands-on + quick turnaround)

Car detailing (mobile service). You vs. grime. Who wins? You.

Sell custom gym gear or accessories.

♉︎ Taurus 2H: Sensory, Grounded, Product-Based

(Taurus rules the senses and the material world, it’s a sign connected to beauty and pleasure)

Bake-and-sell operation (bread, cookies) at markets. Taurus=YES to carbs and cozy smells.

Meal prep or personal chef (nourishing others = peak Taurus.)

Sell plants or houseplant propagation, you’re growing literal value.

Create and sell body care products: lotions, scrubs, soaps… (Venus-ruled.)

Furniture refinishing for resale.

Offer at-home spa services (facials, scrubs.)

Curate and sell gift boxes (Venus loves a well-wrapped present.)

Do minor home repair or furniture assembly.

Build and sell wooden plant stands or decor (wood + plants + aesthetic = Taurus.)

♊︎ Gemini 2H: Communicative, Clever, Multi-Tasking

(Gemini = ruled by Mercury = ideas, speech, tech, variety, teaching)

Freelance writing or blogging.

Transcription or captioning services.

Resume writing/job application support.

Social media management (multitasking + memes.)

Sell printable planners or flashcards (info = money.)

Offer typing or data-entry services, which are low lift & high focus

Sell templates for resumes, bios, or cover letters, Mercury loves a system!

Write email campaigns for small businesses, you can become the voice behind the curtain.

Teach intro to AI tools or chatbots (modern Mercurial real-world applications.)

Create micro-courses on writing or communication.

♋︎ Cancer 2H: Caring, Cozy, DOMESTIC

(Cancer rules the home, food, feelings. It’s the nurturer through and through)

Home organization services, give cluttered homes and their owners love.

Baking and delivering comfort desserts (cookies = hugs in edible form!!)

Make and sell homemade frozen meals, nourishing the body AND soul.

Offer elder companionship visits (heartfelt and so needed.)

Run a daycare or babysitting service. Moon=family.

Run a laundry drop-off/pickup service.

Custom holiday decorating (homes or offices), make it feel like home anywhere.

Help seniors with digital tools (basic tech help.)

Create sentimental gifts like memory jars or scrapbooks.

♌︎ Leo 2H: Expressive, Bold, Entertaining

(Leo rules performance, leadership, fame, visibility, and the desire to SHINE)

Portrait photography (kids, pets, solo, couples.)

Event hosting or party entertainment.

DJ for small events or weddings.

Basic video editing for others (help THEM shine!)

Personalized video messages. charisma = income.

Teach short performance workshops (confidence, improv) to help others own a stage.

Become a personal shopper.

Sell selfie lighting kits or content creator bundles.

Host creative kids camps (theater, dance, art.)

Make reels/TikToks for local businesses (attention = currency.)

♍︎ Virgo 2H: Detailed, Service-Oriented, Practical

(Virgo rules systems, refinement, discernment, organisation, usefulness)

Proofreading or editing work. Spotting a comma out of place or “their/they’re” being misused = Virgo joy.

House cleaning or deep-cleaning services.

Virtual assistant (email, scheduling, admin.)

Sell Notion or Excel templates. Virgo: spreadsheets.

Bookkeeping for small businesses.

Create custom cleaning schedules or checklists.

Offer “organize your digital life” sessions.

Specialize in email inbox cleanups.

♎︎︎ Libra 2H: Tasteful, Charming, Design-Savvy

(Libra = Venus-ruled = style, beauty, balance, aesthetics)

Styling outfits from clients’ own wardrobes.

Become a personal shopper.

Bridal/event makeup services (enhancing natural beauty = Libra.)

Teach etiquette, the power of grace

Curate secondhand outfit bundles.

Custom invitations or event printables that are pretty AND functional.

Offer virtual interior styling consultations.

Sell color palette guides for branding or outfits.

Create custom date night itineraries (romance, planned and packaged=Libra!!)

Style flat-lay photos for products or menus.

Do hair, make-up, nails, etc.

♏︎ Scorpio 2H: Deep, Transformative, Private

(Scorpio rules what’s hidden, intense, and powerful, alchemy, psychology)

Tarot or astrology readings.

Energy healing or bodywork.

Private coaching for money/debt management.

Online investigation or background research (Scorpio = uncovering hidden information)

Teach classes on boundaries, consent, empowerment, etc.

Sell private journal templates for deep self-reflection.

Moderate anonymous support groups or forums.

Specialize in deep-cleaning emotionally loaded spaces (yes, THAT kind of clearing.)

♐︎ Sagittarius 2H: Expansive, Global, Philosophical

(Sag rules teaching, travel, and BIG ideas)

Teach English (or any other language) or become a tutor online

Sell travel guides or digital itineraries, help others travel smarter=Sag

Rent out camping gear or bikes (freedom for rent lol.)

Ghostwrite opinion pieces or thought blogs, say what others are thinking!

Create walking tours for travelers or locals.

Sell travel photography.

Become a travel influencer on the side.

Translate travel documents or resumes.

♑︎ Capricorn 2H: Strategic, Structured, Business-Minded

(Cap rules time, career, limitations, long-term value)

Resume or career coaching, help others climb the “mountain of success”.

Freelance project management.

Property management or Airbnb co-host (passive-ish income.)

Sell templates for business (contracts, invoices).

Create accountability coaching packages.

Sell organizational templates.

Freelance as an operations assistant (the CEO behind the CEO.)

Build a resource hub for freelancers or solopreneurs (structure = empowerment.)

♒︎ Aquarius 2H: Innovative, Digital, Niche

(Aquarius rules tech, rebellion, and the future. But it’s also connected to community!)

Tech repair or setup.

Build websites for local businesses, or anyone else for that matter.

Sell digital products (ebooks, templates).

Run online communities or Discords.

Host workshops on digital privacy or tools. Collective knowledge (Aqua)= power

Build and sell Canva templates for online creators.

Curate niche info packs or digital libraries.

Help people automate parts of their life or business.

♓︎ Pisces 2H: Dreamy, Healing, Imaginative

(Pisces rules the sea, the arts, spirituality, dreams, and all things soft)

Pet sitting or house sitting, caring for beings + quiet time? It’s perfect for this energy.

Sell dreamy artwork or collages.

Offer meditation classes or hypnosis.

Teach art to kids or adults.

Custom poetry or lullaby commissions (very niche tho.)

Sell digital dream journals or prompts.

Make downloadable ambient music loops.

Create printable affirmation cards.

Design calming phone wallpapers or lock screens.

Offer spiritual services (tarot or astrology readings, reiki, etc.)

Thank you for taking the time to read my post!Your curiosity & engagement mean the world to me. I hope you not only found it enjoyable but also enriching for your astrological knowledge.Your support & interest inspire me to continue sharing insights & information with you. I appreciate you immensely.

• 🕸️ JOIN MY PATREON for exquisite & in-depth astrology content. You'll also receive a free mini reading upon joining. :)

• 🗡️ BOOK A READING with me to navigate your life with more clarity & awareness.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 4 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW: All hail severely traumatized Reader, Part 2 (or is it 3? 4??)

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

On quiet evenings, after closing the shop, you’d sit in the dim light with your butterflies swirling around you, thinking of him. Jinwoo had grown older in these passing years, but he was still in the shadow of what was yet to come, the trials he’d face, the burdens he’d bear. You’d send a butterfly to always be with him, only occasionally checking in on him, respecting his boundaries even if he didn’t know it.

Just for a moment—a quick glance into his world was enough.

When Jinwoo first registered as a hunter, you had already braced yourself for this moment. The person you had watched in glimpses through the pages, from, the safety of your domain, and later from the shadows of Seoul, was finally stepping into a life that would soon be fraught with peril. You were determined to help him, even if only in ways that were subtle, hidden beneath the surface of his everyday struggles.

As long as the system did not forbid you, you would help him however you could. And perhaps, every small act was your rebellion.

---

It started with the hospital bills. You remembered the pitiful amount of money Jinwoo would scrape together after risking his life in dungeons, just to keep his mother’s medical care afloat. You couldn’t bear to watch it unfold like it did in the story, not when you had the means to help.

You watched him in the hallway of the hospital one day, standing before the reception desk with his head bowed, his fingers trembling as he pulled out a thin stack of cash.

“I-I’m sorry, Miss. This is all the money I can scrape by…” His voice was low, filled with both hope and shame.

The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, was holding back a sigh when suddenly, her computer pinged with a notification. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Good news, Hunter Sung!” she exclaimed, her tone brightening. “With this amount, plus some unexpected anonymous donations, yours and your mother’s hospital bills are covered for the time being.”

“What?” Jinwoo blinked, visibly stunned. “But I didn’t—”

“Oh! And I’m glad to inform you that your mother’s complexion has improved slightly in the last few weeks.” She smiled warmly. “The specialists believe it’s a good sign.”

Jinwoo’s mouth opened and closed, clearly bewildered. “Huh? No, wait, that’s… that’s great, but—”

In your hidden corner outside the hospital, you giggled softly to yourself, covering your mouth with a hand as you watched through your butterfly’s eyes. The tiny creature perched delicately on the windowsill, relaying every flicker of emotion on Jinwoo’s face back to you.

Perched on your shoulder was another small butterfly, its tiny wings beating quietly, the faint residual glow of it, the one you’d tasked with easing his mother’s pain whenever it could, flickered beside your ear.

“I hope you can feel a bit more at ease, Jinwoo,” you whispered to yourself. “It’s not much, but it’s something.”

---

Later that week, you left another package at his door. It had become a small ritual of sorts—every now and then, you’d make a meal for him and his sister. The recipes were simple, but you took care with each one, carefully wrapping each dish to keep it warm.

“Brother, did you order takeout again?” Jinah’s voice carried through the door as she opened it, her face lighting up at the sight of the package. “Huh? No, I didn’t.”

“Whoa! This smells more delicious than the last one.” Jinah’s eyes sparkled as she inspected the food, excitement clear in her voice.

You smiled, pleased. This time, you’d made a little extra, something from your own world—a dish that you remembered from home, a comfort food you’d grown up with. For some reason, it felt right to share it with them, hoping it would bring a small sense of peace to Jinwoo’s chaotic life.

Jinwoo stepped closer, frowning slightly as he eyed the package. “Jinah, don’t open it! What if this is someone else’s—”

“Hmm? Jinwoo! Look at this!” Jinah held up the small card you’d tucked inside, her grin widening as she noticed the handwriting: For strength and courage. Keep going.

Jinwoo blinked, his eyes lingering on the card, and you felt your heart tighten. You’d also left something else this time—a pair of twin daggers, crafted with care, designed to suit his grip and his unique fighting style. You’d poured a bit of your magic into the blades, imbuing them with a subtle strength you hoped would last him longer in dungeons.

Carefully crafted, the daggers gleamed in the dim light, their handles a smooth black etched with faint traces of silver. It was subtle, but you’d placed a small sigil of protection on each blade—a silent promise to keep him safe, even from afar.

Jinah’s gaze darted between the food and the daggers, her expression one of confusion and awe. “Who keeps sending this stuff, Jinwoo? Are they some kind of guardian angel?”

Jinwoo shook his head, still staring at the daggers. “I… don’t know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at the card again, as if trying to piece together a puzzle that had no answer.

From where you watched, you pressed your fingers to your lips, hoping they’d never figure it out. The anonymity felt like a shield, keeping you from the vulnerability of facing him directly. It allowed you to be there for him without the risk of him ever seeing the scars that haunted you—the scars of the battles you hadn’t been able to fight for him.

---

But there were moments when you could not simply leave gifts behind. Moments where the stakes were far too high, and you found yourself breaking the rules you had set for yourself. One of those times was during a particularly dangerous raid where Jinwoo had been injured, caught off-guard by a sudden ambush.

You found him bleeding out in an abandoned corner of the dungeon, unconscious and pale, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Panic surged through you as you cloaked the area with your butterflies’ illusion magic, hiding you both from the other hunters scrambling to escape.

“Hey… Jinwoo…” Your voice trembled as you knelt beside him, your hands hovering uncertainly over his torn shirt, slick with blood. You could barely see through the tears blurring your vision. “Stay with me.”

You pressed your hands to his wound, feeling the warmth of his blood soak into your fingers. Healing him was a delicate balance; you had to hold back most of your power, keeping it just within the boundaries that the system would tolerate The warmth of your power seeped into his skin, mending the torn muscle and stitching the wounds closed.

“You’re going to be okay…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

He grimaced slightly, even in his unconscious state, as though still fighting an invisible battle. His brows were furrowed, and you could see the remnants of pain etched into his expression.

Unable to stop yourself, you began to hum softly—a lullaby from your original world, a song you’d heard countless times. The sound filled the silence around you, mingling with the gentle flutter of your butterflies as they circled, their wings casting soft shadows over the two of you. You weren’t even sure if he could hear it, but you hoped it would bring some comfort. His pained expression gradually softened, his breathing steadying, his body growing still as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

“You will be okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the fluttering wings of your butterflies. Leaning forward, you pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to his forehead, ignoring the taste of sweat and blood on your lips. “I promise.”

You stayed there for as long as you dared, your butterflies encircling you both in a protective sphere. But eventually, the system's warnings began to flash, and you were forced to retreat. The moment you pulled back, you could feel the invisible barrier forcing you away, like a cruel reminder of your place. You were not meant to interfere directly, not in the way you so desperately wished.

As you vanished into the shadows, Jinwoo stirred, his eyelids fluttering open sleepily. A faint scent of flowers lingering in the air.

The soft glow of a single butterfly disappearing into the darkness.

---

You knew it was only a matter of time before Jinwoo’s sharp instincts would catch on. He had always been sharp, even before his strength grew. He had a way of noticing things, piecing together the small details others missed. Sometimes you wondered if he already suspected there was someone watching over him—a nameless guardian who left behind no trace.

For his sake, you hoped he wouldn’t. There was too much you couldn’t tell him, too many secrets that weighed heavy on your heart. You couldn’t let him find you. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. The scars left behind from your previous failures were still too fresh, too deep. You couldn't face him—not with the knowledge of everything you failed to prevent.

A red butterfly fluttered back to your shoulder, nestling close as if sensing your inner turmoil. You reached up, brushing a gentle finger over its wings, a silent promise.

For now, it was enough to watch him from afar, to slip into his life like a fleeting shadow, offering what little comfort and aid you could. For Sung Jinwoo, the lonely hero you once admired on the pages of a story, being beside him—even unseen, even in secret—was more than enough.

Because loving him like this, in silence and secrecy, was the only way you knew how.

-----

The dungeon gate loomed ominously in front of you, shrouded in an aura of terror. Every hunter that passed by gave it a wary glance, a sense of unease clinging to their skin. But for you, standing alone on the empty, desolate street outside the gate, it was more than just unease.

You knew what was happening on the other side of that barrier.

You knew exactly why Sung Jinwoo had gone in there, why he was fighting against forces he had no chance against, and, worse, you knew how the story was supposed to go.

Even if you wanted to save him, you couldn’t.

As you paced in the shadows, a biting frustration gnawed at you, tugging on your every nerve. The system had raised another invisible barrier around the gate, one specifically designed to keep you out. This was a repeat, you knew, yet you had tried pushing against it just like the first time, pounding your fists in desperation, hoping that it would somehow let you through if only you pleaded enough.

But like every single time, the system never relented. The message that flashed in front of your eyes had been clear, cold, and unyielding:

[Warning: You cannot interfere with the designated player’s progression.]

So all you could do was wait. Hours passed, the world seeming to stretch unbearably as you lingered on the edge, senses on high alert. Finally, when the gate shimmered and disappeared, you bolted forward, cloaking yourself with an illusory skill the moment you felt the barrier lift.

Without hesitation, you sprinted into the dungeon.

The first sight of the bloodstained stone walls, the broken weapons and armor littered across the ground, nearly brought bile to your throat. And at the center of it all, lying on the cold stone altar, was Jinwoo, blood pooling beneath him. His once gentle features were twisted with pain, his usually alert eyes closed, his breathing almost nonexistent.

Your heart pounded in your chest, raw terror surging through you as you stumbled forward, nearly dropping to your knees beside him. Your hands trembled as you summoned your healing power, a soft glow flickering to life in your palms as you placed them gently over his wounds.

“Jinwoo…” The name slipped from your lips, an agonized whisper.

It took every ounce of willpower not to let your emotions take control. You wanted nothing more than to pour every bit of your strength into him, to erase the pain and blood, to make him whole again. But something held you back—a quiet, persistent instinct that reminded you of your own limitations here. This was a pivotal moment in his story, the beginning of everything that was to come. If you pushed too far, you knew you’d be punished for it in ways you couldn’t predict.

Instead, you focused on his face, gently wiping away the blood from his brow as you healed the worst of his injuries. The faintest hint of warmth returned to his skin, his breathing evening out, and you felt a trickle of relief flow through you.

“You’ll be okay… Just a bit longer,” you murmured, hoping your words would somehow reach him, even in the unconsciousness of his slumber.

---

Hours later, you watched silently from afar as Jinwoo was admitted to the hospital. Nurses and doctors bustled around him, wheeling him through corridors and hooking him up to machines to monitor his vitals. You should have felt some sense of peace, of reassurance, knowing he was in good hands, but instead, a strange emptiness gnawed at you.

As soon as the doctors left his side, you sent one of your butterflies to hover just above him, invisible to any onlookers. Through its eyes, you watched him sleep, his face pale yet calm. If only he could see the world through your eyes, how much you wanted to protect him from every shadow and danger.

For days, you visited Jinwoo in the hospital, bringing supplies when the nurses weren’t looking, leaving small offerings—potions, enchanted items, all hidden from sight. You spent countless hours just sitting nearby, willing his pain away.

But after those days of endless vigil, your system did something you hadn’t expected: it simply… vanished. No messages, no reminders, no missions or updates. It was as if it had been swept away, a silent farewell. But somehow, you couldn’t believe that was all there was to it. The system you knew—the one that felt almost…alive—would have left something, some kind of parting message. But there was nothing.

Yet even as the ache in your heart grew sharper, you took comfort in the fact that your powers, and the tiny butterfly summons, your children, remained at your side. The system’s absence didn’t change the duty you felt in your heart.

---

Of course, the only thing the system left behind was the now near-permanent barrier.

You felt your own helplessness all over again when Jinwoo entered the penalty zone, struggling to survive against waves of merciless monsters. All you could do was watch, silently cheering him on as he fought his way through it, determination blazing in his eyes. You knew this was the beginning, the spark that would ignite his growth. But still, it was agonizing to stand by, unable to intervene, unable to help.

Days later, when he took on his first solo hunt in an instant dungeon, you lingered nearby. Observing every movement, every struggle, every victory. You smiled with pride as each time he struck down a monster.

And then there came the time he met Yoo Jinho. The memory of that dungeon still sent a chill down your spine. Jinwoo and Jinho, left for dead by Hwang Dongsok and his squad, and then watching the two of them nearly get slaughtered had you gripping the edges of your seat. You could feel admiration as much as your heart shatter as Jinwoo stood over the bodies, his gaze cold and unyielding. The spark of his innocence was dimming, replaced by a hardened resolve.

“Jinwoo…” You whispered his name as you watched him, clutching your chest as a wave of sadness washed over you. He was changing, evolving, becoming stronger, but at what cost? Each time Jinwoo took a life or fought in the dungeons, you felt your heart ache for him. He was growing stronger, yes, but he was also losing pieces of himself along the way.

You mourned for the innocence he left behind. Yet, you knew this was necessary. You reminded yourself of this, over and over.

---

Every time he stepped into danger, every time he took a blow, you felt the echo of his pain in your own chest. You watched him fight Kerberos, your hands clenched into fists as he took hit after hit, barely surviving. And yet, through it all, he pushed forward, as relentless as ever, Each injury he sustained sent you pacing around the Gardens, your butterflies fluttering around you, trying in vain to calm your worry.

Even when Jinwoo joined Jinho to clear various C-rank gates, you remained his unseen guardian, watching from afar with a bittersweet smile. He was getting stronger. He was closer to becoming the hero you admired—no, loved—from the pages of your old world.

---

And then, the job change quest arrived.

You watched with anticipation as he ventured into the ancient halls, his eyes sharp, his movements cautious. The moment he met Igris, you had been waiting for this moment for what felt like lifetimes. You watched him take on Igris with every ounce of power he possessed, watching with bated breath as Jinwoo faced the trials set before him.

And finally, the words you had been waiting for echoed through the temple, sending shivers down your spine.

“Arise.”

The power resonated in his voice, a command filled with strength and authority. You nearly squealed, couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across your face as you watched the first shadow rise at his command.

Watching him gain his Shadow Extraction skill felt like watching a dream come to life. This was the moment you had waited for, the turning point that would set Jinwoo on the path to becoming the Shadow Monarch. He had come so far, and you had seen every step of his journey unfold before your eyes.

As you gazed at him from afar, smile still tugging at your lips. This, you thought, is enough.

Being able to watch him grow, to see him become the hero you admired, was enough. Just knowing that he was okay—that he was stronger than ever—was all you needed.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [010/10/2024] - Goodbye

[lsunstreakerl]

2.1k tiny gax verse!!! more coming, but I figured I'd split it up a bit, after the whole... everything. of the race. again, snapshots, not entirely in chronological order.

max POV, george POV

Max realizes the trailer is parked in the same hotel lot the fucking Leclerc's are in too late. He lets out a string of swear words that Jos would be proud of, ducking into a hallway before they see him.

Fucking Charles, with his parents and his brothers and his... everything. He thinks he'll drive for Ferrari.

Max doesn't like to think about his own chances. His helmet is gripped tight in his hands, knuckles white. There's sweat dripping uncomfortably down his spine, the result of wrestling his kart back into the trailer. He's mostly got a system figured out, but still.

It's heavy.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. George again, probably trying to find a rule in the fine print consent form for the hotel that will allow Max to stay. He won't find one— Max had kind of expected it. He's not parked up at a place that would turn a blind eye, evidenced by the fact that Charles is here.

It's fine. They'll do better when George is here, and there's blankets in the trailer. The weather is mild enough that Max thinks he can get away with leaving it off, which is great— it'll save gas for the return trip. If it goes well, he'll have enough cash left to get groceries on the way back. Real groceries.

Max had won, which is really the only way to make any of this worth it. People have started talking to him, asking him questions about the karts and the race, and they seem genuinely impressed by his knowledge. It's stupid, because of course Max knows what he's talking about. This is all he has, it's what he's hinged everything on.

He's hoping today's performance was good enough to land him a new sponsor, so he can buy the parts he needs for George's kart. George has a fucked axle, so they've been swapping one of the good ones back and forth between their karts, and Max has been trying to rotate them out to avoid wear, but it'd be nice to just be able to buy the part they need.

He has a cracked fingernail that agrees with the thought as well.

He can see the Leclerc's crowd into the elevator, watching Charles' mother ruffle his hair, and his fingers grip tighter.

Asshole.

------

George hasn't told Max about the part time job. Mostly because he only works when Max is out karting, and it's under the table in cash. He's been stocking it in a jar in the closet, and he uses it to quietly restock the staples in their pantry when they're getting low. Max doesn't cook often enough to notice, and he's got too many other things on his mind to wonder why they never seem to run out of rice.

Max also works sometimes, quick gigs that George pretends not to know about, even though he wakes up when Max washes his hair in the sink in the early morning. He's pretty sure it's a physical labor job, because Max would never do anything that doesn't somehow contribute to driving— if he can make money and train at the same time, he will.

He glances back down at his phone. The sun is starting to set, so the local bookstore he works at had politely but firmly told him to head home, and Max should be driving back soon, provided he doesn't get arrested.

Alex: hey

Alex: huge favor

Alex: like MASSIVE

George: not a whole lot I can help you with

Alex: I think I might need to come to the UK

Alex: is there any way I can crash with you and max? I can cover my own costs, and help with rent.

George: mate we've only got one bedroom

George: we shoved the futons together

George: not in a gay way!

George: in a space conserving way

Alex: LOL

Alex: I believe you georgie

Alex: I have a big family, I'm used to stray limbs

Alex: I might actually end up with MORE personal space this way

George: you promise you won't cost more?

George: I don't want to be mean

George: but max and I are stretched really thin

Alex: I promise!

George: okay

George: I'll talk to him about it

The trailer is back in the driveway when he rounds the corner of the sidewalk, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Max hasn't been arrested, and he hasn't been murdered overnight while he slept in the trailer. Max says thinking like that is paranoid and that George needs to stop watching the news.

He unlocks the front door quietly, careful to avoid the creak in the floor right at the entryway. He can hear Max snoring already, and there's empty plastic bags on the counter.

Max must have won. There's milk, and a new container of eggs, and his eyebrows shoot up when he realizes they have trout in the fridge. He'll make that tonight, because on the rare occasion they get fish it's usually right before it expires, and Max probably didn't eat after the race unless the food was free.

There's lentils in the pantry as well. George isn't a huge pan of protein-loading Max makes them both do, but he understands it from a health perspective. He just wishes they could afford to make it taste better. One day, when they both drive in Formula 1, he's going to take them to a bakery, and they'll get every dessert on the counter.

Sticking his head into the bedroom reveals Max half sprawled on the futons, passed out. His fingers wring nervously when he gets a glance at his collarbones, just on the side of too sharp under his skin.

He's not stupid. He knows Max is making sure that he gets taken care of first, that he never finishes his plate until George is done, just in case he's still hungry. He notices.

He'll make sure Max gets more of the fish tonight.

------

"Shit!"

George scrabbles for his phone, fingers flying.

George: MAX

George: AXLE SPINDLE SNAPPED

Max: FUCK

George: we don't have any spares

Max: I know

Max: give me five minutes

George: I don't have five minutes

Max: give me three.

Max: and get it ready for the switch

George checks everything else on his kart as he disassembles the front left end, heart pounding in his chest. They'll be cutting it to the wire, and he's really not sure—

Max darts around to the corner, dropping to his knees next to George's kart. His hands fly across the pieces on the floor as he switches the axle spindle, fingers darkening with grease, and George's fingers are twitching. He's cutting it close, they're cutting it so close.

Max reassembles the kart like it's second nature, because it is. He's spent hours going over it with George, comparing what they were both able to learn before they were on their own, and what he picks up in the mechanics shop.

Like most things, he's just a few seconds faster, just quick enough to pull off something he shouldn't have been able to, standing and double checking George's suit and helmet, gloves gripped tight in his hands.

"Go, go, come on—"

------

George wins it. It's not always euphoric, more of a deep sense of relief, that he's worth it, that they're making it worth it.

Max still has grease on his fingers when he gets George in a headlock and scrubs at his hair, both giggling as the relief crashes over them. They're in a shitty motel, but they have the bed for the night, and he's won with a mismatched axle spindle and his headband pressing uncomfortably into his forehead.

It's worth it, they're worth it, they're doing it.

------

"Boys."

There's a soft accented voice behind them both as they're making their way to the parking lot, and Max stops first, George hesitating behind him.

Pascale Leclerc is watching them, eyes gentle.

"You make a mother's heart weep, yes? Please, let me do something with your hair."

Max winces. His own hair is getting long enough that he occasionally steals George's headbands when he's reading just to keep it out of his eyes, and George is always having to adjust his hair behind his ears. It curls long at the back of both of their necks, damp with sweat.

George steps forward, because he's talked to the Leclerc's more than Max has.

"Are you sure?"

Max was raised not to accept handouts. He's gotten used to having to do so ever since he started living on his own, and especially with George, but it still makes something curl unpleasantly in his stomach. They have scissors at home.

"Please."

She rests a hand on both of their shoulders, and Max looks at George again, wild hair pressed against his hairline and wet behind his ears.

He lets her lead them to a different trailer. The Leclerc's don't have the best in the lot, but it's nice, with enough room for karts and equipment as well as a few people. Charles is sitting on the pavement next to it, legs stretched wide in front of him as he drinks a water. Max pointedly doesn't make eye contact with him, even through he sees George wave.

"Charlie!"

Charles wiggles his fingers. He hasn't won today, but he'd done well, so Max isn't sure why he's sulking, not when he has a family that's proud of him even when he sucks.

Pascale herds them into the trailer, reaching for Max first, but he shakes his head, tilting it slightly in George's direction. She frowns, curling her fingers again, keeping his voice low enough that only the two of them hear.

"I will take care of you both."

Max chews at the inside of his cheek.

"We can't pay you."

"I know."

George is still talking to Charles outside. Max catches the eye of Charles' father, quickly looking away.

"Okay."

------

Charles is trying to figure something out. George knows this because he keeps asking leading questions, like he thinks George would tell him anything— he's British, he knows how to subtly doge a question.

What does have George uneasy is that his father is watching them both, reaching into one of the coolers.

"Charles."

He says Charles' name the French way, soft and sliding, before passing him a baggie with a sandwich in it. A heartbeat later, there's another one being held out to George.

The Leclerc's like him more than Max, he knows this.

"Thank you."

He says it as gratefully as he can manage, carefully tucking it into his helmet.

"I'll eat it on the road."

Charles huffs a laugh next to him.

"You do not look like you eat much of anything."

George kicks out at his foot, glaring.

"I drive fast, and that's what matters."

------

George had spotted Max get a sandwich as well. It has him relived, because as soon as they'd gotten away from the Leclerc's trailer, hair shorter and several waters richer, Max had immediately torn into it.

Still, he waits until they've been on the road for an hour before he reaches into his helmet.

"I had two while I was waiting with Charles, and they told me to hold onto your extra for you."

Max's eyes light up. They're brighter without his hair shadowing over his lashes.

"They did?"

George passes it over. It's slightly squished and room temperature, but Max tears through it just as quickly as he had the last one.

"Thank you, Georgie."

George gets snacks at the library when he comes in to work. He doesn't mind making sure Max is still getting what he needs, not when he spots the knobs of his wrists or the exhaustion in his eyes. They're both making sacrifices.

It'll be worth it one day.

------

Max wipes the back of his hand across his forehead, making a face at the feeling of grease smearing across his skin as he rolls out from under the truck.

"It is fucked. Trash. Tell them they are better off selling for scrap and buying a new car."

"This is why you're not at the front, Max."

Max is not at the front because he looks young— is young. The garage pays him under the table, and he gets the chance to learn.

Sure, he scrapes his knuckles on rusted metal, and he's fairly confident the underside of his nails are never going to get clean, but the experience is invaluable.

He's had to tweak at his own kart's engine more than once, and the things he's learned here helps make him reasonable confident that it's not going to go boom.

Kind of confident.

A little bit.

[willosword]

just a quick reminder for those who might be questioning why eve can't just turn things to gold and sell them for money if mark and her are strapped for cash: she went over this whole thing in s2

eve has blatantly internalized her father's statements about integrity, red tape, and rules being put in place for a reason. she clearly doesn't want to "cheat the system" anymore after her attempts to do that nearly killed several people in s2

[tojipie]

ma’am you mentioned slipping a guard a wad of cash for a quick closet fuck in your story so like…how often did prison toji have to bribe the guards? 😅

prison boyfriend toji series linked here <3

content: semi-public, intimidation, mentions of incarceration, facials

custodial wing at 11:30

that’s what he’d whispered to you before you parted during your day visit, hand reaching under the hem of your shirt to trace shapes into the curve of your spine.

you didn’t need to ask questions knowing how often the two of you pulled this off. if the state wouldn’t grant you two conjugal visits on account of you not being married.. then you’d just have to make your own. 

getting started wasn’t a challenge in the slightest knowing entry-level guards melted like putty once a little stipend was involved. money was everything in this system, and toji had left you a lot of money.

once every two months was the deal. frequent enough that you’d both get your fill of each other outside supervised visits, but not so often as to draw suspicion. 

naturally, you make a beeline to your destination as soon visiting hours come to a close, mumbling something about needing the bathroom to a clearly peeved officer at the front desk. 

toji comes into view just at the end of the hall, facing away from you. you realize his body is obstructing another person as you you near, bits of their conversation floating in and out. 

“you really should be in your cell fushiguro...”

“just wait till’ she gets here before you do something stupid.. christ.”

you pause just beside toji, peering over at the navy blue-clad stranger in front of you. 

“where’s..” you trail off, eyes flitting between the two men. great, your regular officer wasn’t on duty today. a fucking warning might have been nice. 

the new guard is probably half your boyfriend’s size—and age, not a firm bone in his body by the looks of it. if he did, you figure toji would already be in solitary for sneaking out of his cell. your shoulders relax at the realization. at least this guy wasn’t a threat. 

the inmate shoots you a knowing smile, sly as ever despite the high-stakes situation. you quickly move to rustle through your pockets at the sight of his outstretched palm, placing a wad of cash in his hand.

“why don’t we give our pal a little gift, hm?” toji coos, holding the money up between two fingers and shaking it like a dog treat. “wanna give me an hour with my girl?”

the guard frowns, looking around cautiously.

“we’re not really supposed to take bribes…”

the fake smile on toji’s face falters. “fuck does that mean?” he says in disbelief.

“well honestly, it means that i’m going to have to report this.” the younger man says, reaching for his walkie-talkie to alert the rest of the security team. 

“are you stupid?” toji seethes. sizing the smaller man up. regret instantly washes over the the guard’s face, eyes blowing impossibly wide as he’s backed up against the wall.

“no sir— I mean— i’m sorry!” a tattooed fist slams against the concrete, dangerously close to his face. 

“i could kill you right now. could snap your neck and keep you in that closet over there,” he whispers, jutting his thumb behind him. you know there’s no real intent behind his words, toji simply wasn’t that cruel. 

the paralyzed guard cowers at the threat, taking the two of you by surprise as a wet spot grows on the front of his pants. gross.

“you gonna piss your pants every time a real man speaks to you? huh?” he barks, laughing at the younger man’s misfortune. 

“no no no please,” the guard babbles, motioning toward the closet. “i’ll keep watch i promise, i— i don’t even need the money i’m sorry.”

“good cause you weren’t getting it,” toji sneers, pocketing the cash before picking you up bridal style. 

“that was mean,” you whisper, oddly impressed at the inmate’s intimidation skills.

“yeah? you like when i’m mean?” he mutters jokingly, hands already squeezing the curve of your ass from where his palms are holding your body up. the contact makes you shudder, sending bolts of electricity right to your core.

you loved seeing him like this, as sick as it was. possessive, short-tempered, commanding. it all made your knees weak. 

you find yourself propped up against the door of the closet moments later, held up by his hands as he wastes no time, leaning in to mouth at the curve of your neck. 

the way he maneuvers you without so much as a sigh only stokes the flames deep in your core. toji’s strength was something to behold, an absolute marvel.

the closet is dim, lit by a pull-string bulb older than the two of you combined. you’re so close that you don’t know where your body ends and his starts, making it seem like there’s not enough air for the both of you. 

you reach down with one hand, keeping the other on his shoulder for balance. deft fingers work up the scratchy fabric of his brown uniform, exposing his abs with a hum.

fuck, he was getting bigger, muscles chiseling deeper and deeper as each day went by. the barest hint of black ink peeks just under the hem of his shirt, grabbing your attention for just a moment.

“lift it up angel,” he rasps, mouth still working at the thin skin of your collarbones. purple blood vessels bloom under his lips, the trail of hickeys growing larger by the minute.

the inmate helps you strip his upper half, lips detaching from your body with a sly smile.

“toji, oh my god,” you gasp, running a careful hand over the barely healed tattoo. 

“didn’t want you to see till’ it was finished,” he explains, grinding the hard length of his cock against your clothed core. 

toji hadn’t taken his shirt off the last two times you’d snuck off together, opting fuck you through three orgasms with his pants around his knees, showing off the barest hint of his happy trail. 

you figured it was for the sake of saving time, a precautionary measure in case your situation was compromised. naturally, there was a much deeper reason behind it.

delicate swirled letters brand your name across his ribs, etched into tanned skin amid a background of black and grey mist. the skin around the edge is still pink and delicate. blushed by the spike of a needle over, and over, and over.

god.. how did he even get this done? and so well at that? the things he manages to achieve even while serving time never fail to blow you away.

you hadn’t even realized he’d stopped grinding into you, his palm just barely cradling your face.

“you okay?” he says it so gently, like you’ll break. 

“it’s perfect,” you tell him, basking in the shy smile he gives you. scarred lips finally meet yours, setting you down on the floor of the closet to shimmy your skirt down. toji pulls away with an audible hum, tapping the inside of your calf to get you to open your legs wider.

the inmate wastes no time, hooking a thumb under the fabric covering your heat, and pulling your panties to the side. you feel his hulking body drop to a knee in the dim light, running thick hands up the soft skin of your calves before pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. 

“beautiful,” he whispers, though the stars that dance across your vision keep you wondering if he’s talking about you, or your pussy. 

and then your thoughts come to a screeching halt as a warm, dexterous tongue licks up the length of your slit. the noise he makes is obscene, desperate, groaning low in his chest as he tastes you for the first time in months. 

you nearly forgot how good it feels to be taken like this, struggling to maintain your balance as toji laps at your hole, two hands settling on your knees should they decide to buckle. 

“tastes so fucking good,” 

he says it directly into your heat, shooting vibrations straight into your core. warm velvet sneaks up to lap at your sensitive bud, tracing hot, wet circles in the spot that matters most.

you peek down just enough to see him free his cock from his boxers. two fingers swipe through your heat, using your slick to ease the slide of his hand along his shaft. 

it’s filthy, the way he’s always been so readily able to shift how he acts around you. cold, unforgiving hands turning into warm fingers that bring you nothing but pleasure. 

you’re the only one who sees him like this— who will ever see him like this. on his knees in the back of a cramped closet, making love to your cunt like a man starved. 

the feeling of your approaching high rips you from your thoughts, hands tangling into his mess of raven hair.

“gonna cum,” you whine, pushing at his forehead to get his face away from your clit. the tiniest bit of relief floods your core as he pulls away, his mouth and chin dripping with slick. 

“turn around.”

you haven’t even fully pressed yourself against the door before the blunt head of his cock is sliding into your entrance, filling you to the brim in one fluid motion.

toji takes a second to palm at the flesh of your ass, humming in appreciation as you adjust to his size.

“please,” you groan, “please just fuck me toji, please.”

the inmate pauses, slipping a hand under the hem of your shirt to play with your tits.

“should i?” he whispers, groaning as you clench down on his length.

frustrated, you push your hips back into his shaft, swallowing him over and over while harsh pants ring out behind you. large hands squeeze around your waist to stall your movements, giving him space to rut into you like you need.

the feeling is seismic, explosive. sending you right over the edge and into the abyss as black streaks over your vision. you don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good before, taking deep, thorough gulps of air as you’re humped and rutted into against the fragile wood of the closet door.

large fingers wrap around your wrist and pin your arm behind you as you reach down to toy with yourself.

“like this,” he tells you. the implications clear as day.

cum on his cock or don’t cum at all. 

and cum you do, shuddering as you flood yourself between your legs. his pace doesn’t let up for a single second, bucking up into that special spot over and over.

“knees,” he commands, tone as urgent as ever. “fuck, get on your knees.”

you don’t have to be told twice, sinking to the floor to face him as he pulls out of you.

“open baby, open up for me.” the noise his hand makes while her jerks himself off is absolutely debilitating.

you tiredly rest your cheek just under the jut of his hip bone, pressing soft kisses under the far edge of his tattoo. the aftershocks of your high leave you breathless as thick spurts of seed cover the left half of your face. 

toji takes you by the face and holds you in front of him, fingers squishing your lips into a pout as he paints your face with the last of his load.

“there we go, there we go, eat it for me,” he pants from above you, chest heaving from the force of his orgasm. you gather as much as you can with your tongue, letting him thumb the rest into your mouth.

“beautiful,” he says, letting you clean off his fingers with your tongue. and this time you’re sure that he’s talking about you, his girl. his everything.

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[dostoyevsky-official]

The Crypto Plot Against America’s Gold Reserves

The crypto “industry” was one of the biggest spenders in the 2024 election. It practically single-handedly bought a U.S. Senate seat in Ohio, turfing out labor’s most reliable senator, Sherrod Brown, with $40 million in advertising. And it convinced Donald Trump to make a 180 with a big sack of campaign contributions. Back in 2021, Trump said crypto was a “scam,” but now he has his own coin, his media site is in discussions to buy a crypto exchange, and he’s fully bought into the claims that the industry is overregulated.

So now that crypto has bought great political influence, it’s time to cash in. How might this happen? The basic idea is to turn the American government into the biggest crypto bag-holder of all time. If the plan goes through, hundreds of billions of dollars of public assets will be spent or leveraged to buy a million Bitcoins, allowing the tiny minority of Bitcoin moguls to finally cash out their holdings into real money. It would be one of the biggest upward transfers of wealth in world history.

[...] Crypto shill Sen. Cynthia Lummis (R-WY) proposes the Treasury issue new gold certificates based on the market price [of American gold reserves], and use the resulting cash—$677 billion at current prices—to buy up Bitcoins. In total, her bill would require the government to buy up 200,000 Bitcoins a year for five years, until a “strategic reserve” of a million would be accumulated.

This is revealing on several levels. The whole ideology of cryptocurrency is that it’s supposed to be outside the alleged corruption of governments or the extant financial system. Instead of transactions taking place on platforms run by Wall Street and regulated by the D.C. swamp, fiercely independent crypto entrepreneurs would build new businesses doing … something … out in a fresh economic Wild West.

So why on earth would buccaneering crypto people want the government scooping up a million Bitcoins—or about 5 percent of all that exist? The reason is obvious: so paper Bitcoin billionaires can cash out their holdings into real money without tanking the market. [...] The fundamental value of Bitcoin is zero. Even by crypto standards, the coin is terrible.

[...] Therefore, for early Bitcoin adopters sitting on vast piles of purely speculative assets, there is a huge structural need to get new suckers into the market. For anyone concerned about the corrosive role of money in politics, think about what this means: The crypto industry spent something on the order of $100 million in this election to install a government that will lure sacrificial lambs to a digital asset slaughterhouse, and make a handful of big Bitcoin hoarders generationally wealthy in the exchange.

[...] No one has deeper pockets than the federal government. No need to directly pick the pockets of suckers looking for a get-rich-quick scheme if you can pick everyone’s pockets indirectly by looting a vast store of treasure held in trust for the American people. It’s a logical end point for a technology whose sole meaningful use case is enabling criminal extortion and money laundering: finally carrying out the bank robber’s dream of draining the value in Fort Knox.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Cycling through the love languages

G/N. Self-indulgent af. Goo has a realisation about you.

Goo knows for a fact you like him.

Who wouldn't? Who doesn't?

Maybe Gun and Charles Choi actually, and he knows he pisses Kouji and Crystal off something bad. The majority of the crews too. And that sour faced woman from the cafe this morning. There was also the guy who yelled obscenities and flipped him off for driving erratically.

Ah whatever. He casts aside his growing list of enemies with a wave of the wrist and an adjustment of his glasses.

Point is, you like him. You. The only one that matters.

Why you can't admit it to yourself or to him, he can't understand.

...Nevermind the fact that it's only recently that he has admitted to himself that he likes you. After one too many knowing looks from Kouji, and then another too many drinks the other night when Gun remained stone faced and Crystal couldn't stop rolling her eyes as Goo started gushing. Tongue loosening and desires spoken and spilling over into reality.

The realisation wasn't so much a shock to the system, as a comforting hug. Like yes, finally. 

His weird little daydreams, his growing apathy towards fighting and work, or really anything that excludes you. The way you said you liked his suit the other month and he walked with a spring in his step all morning and afternoon and evening and night, and has worn that suit damn nearly every day since.

It all makes sense.

So yes. Fine. He likes you. A lot. 

Sometimes the thought of seeing you makes him feel giddy with excitement. Other times the thought of replacing his first love, good old dependable cash, with you makes him feel sick and he breaks out into a cold sweat.

Here’s the thing though: Goo likes calculated risk. He likes the thrill of the chase.

He-

Likes-

You.

And if you want him to be the one that chases and pursues you then ok. He will. Challenge accepted.

.

.

Let's do this the easy way. Flirting.

It might have been more successful if he wasn't so flirty and playful anyway. Curse him and his charismatic ways.

(Or so he tells himself.)

You don't find him too different from usual, all things considered. Maybe more of a nuisance, buzzing around you like an errant fly.  His smile is greasier, words honey sweet. He leers at you. Waggles his eyebrows like you're in on a joke together.

Dear heavens, you think he also winks at you too. When you frown at that, he just clicks his tongue in annoyance and says there's something in his eye.

You think that's a lie. In fact, you know it is. His eye is completely fine but he is moody and pouty for hours after.

.

.

No, the wink didn't work. The flirting can't really be counted as a success. Nevertheless, his flirting doesn't stop at syrupy words, Goo is touchier too.

He's a touchy person by nature, especially in the right situation and with the right person. Whatever is needed to twist a situation to his advantage. A chin rested on your shoulder, casual arm thrown around your waist. A playful shove, footsie under the table that is more rough and malicious, aiming to hurt, than cute and teasing.

But he's close, closer than ever. Banter muttered into your ear, breath prickling your skin.

Every moment is just a new opportunity to touch you. Your hand, your shoulder, hip, lower back.

You never minded before, you gotten used to his touches surprisingly quickly except now-

The caresses and contact poorly hide a yearning. There's a different intent. It's purposeful and calculated. This doesn't escape your notice.

Goo also doesn't miss the heat that rises to your cheeks. The pretty pink flush when he pulls you near. The hitch of your breath.

Ah. There it is.

Success at last.

.

.

Sadly for him, success doesn't last long. You get used to his wily ways quick enough, you always do.

And it doesn't have the profound effect on you that Goo initially anticipated. He thought that might lead to a confession of sorts from yourself, and even you both skipping into the sunset together.

Neither happens. You stay as cutely tight lipped as ever.

Well if he can't worm his way into your heart with his A game and progress whatever this is you both have going on-

(Which is frankly a little insulting to think about. Goo would like you to know that some people have taken one look, one!, at his hot self and thrown themselves to his feet.)

-Then he can just buy your love.

In Goo's world, in this world, there is nothing that money can't solve. Luckily, Goo has lots of it.

He starts small.

Your reaction when he gave you a bouquet of flowers was rather sweet. He takes note of the way your face softens, how your eyes crinkle when you smile, the shape of your lips as you’re surprised with his gesture.

 If Goo was the sappy sort, he would say that it felt like his heart skipped a beat.

Turns out that he is the sappy sort, and he talked Crystal's ear off about it until she kicked him out of her office and slammed the door in his face.

Next, the jewellery you seemed taken aback by. A few pieces you looked at in distaste despite the size of the gemstones, had the audacity to say they're garish and inconvenient. 

“It’s too much,” you tell him. “Take them back. Return them. Please.”

You left all but one: a simple ring with a plain design.

The affront that Goo felt only lasted for a night at your rejection, dissipating the moment he saw the ring on your finger the next day, shining brightly in the sun. Enough to rival the smile that crept over his face.

.

.

Turns out that the car dealership was a step too far though, a step too ill thought out. The gifts gradually got bigger and grander until one weekend afternoon, you were looking around at brand new vehicles with Goo.

"This is by appointment only," he doesn't hesitate to brag. "It's exclusive. They managed to fit me 'cos I'm kinda a big deal."

You hum in response, your usual go to reply when Goo is feeling particularly full of himself and you’re half listening.

"What do you think of this one, sweetheart?" he asks, steering you towards the most expensive vehicle in the showroom, with more horsepower or torque or whatever it is enthusiasts talk about.

A sleek and shiny sports car that you know for a fact costs more than you will ever make in a year. All chrome and aerodynamic lines, that screams I have money and the biggest dick around here (or tiniest, depending on who you ask and whether you think they're trying to overcompensate).

You take one look at Goo, eyes dropping to his crotch and feel your body flushing. You quickly try to shake those obscene thoughts from your head.

"Um," you clear your throat, which has mysteriously dried up at the last second, "It's nice I guess? Bit much though." You poke your head through the window, admiring the top of the range features and the smell of fresh leather. Goo is nothing if not in your face, and this car certainly fits his vibe.

"Nothing is too much for you!" his voice floats over your shoulder, and you whip your head to stare at him.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"What do you mean?"

"It's on me, cupcake! For you." He throws his arm around your shoulder, a touch of sincerity under his usual viper grin.

Huh. Not only is this excessive-

"My apartment doesn't have any parking," You state, and Goo starts calculating if he likes you enough to buy you a new apartment also and unfortunately the drop in his bank balance still doesn't outweigh his feelings for you. Whether you will accept is the question but he can work on that.

All thoughts are derailed though with your next words-

"I can't drive. I don't have my licence. And the thought of navigating Seoul traffic," you grimace at the idea, "Nightmare. Not for me. No thanks."

Oh. For fuck's sake. There goes the idea to buy your love with gifts. Most people would say thank you with a smile and go to at least sell the car but of course you would rebuff him. He’s been letting you take advantage of his bank balance, his hard earned money, and of course you’re too good to him to do that.

‘So this entire day was a complete waste of time,’ Goo thinks sourly hours later, meandering the streets side by side with you, spending the rest of your afternoon together. Until-

"Oh my god I love these!" You exclaim, taking a bite out of the hotteok. Fresh off the grill from the street vendor, paid for by your companion. Out of everything he has given, or tried to give you - you're the happiest with the cheap street food. "You're the best!" you tell him between mouthfuls.

Goo doesn't stop his chest from puffing out at that comment. Those words elevating today from being deemed a waste to... fun.

And actually, a little sweet.

.

.

If he can't win you over completely with gifts, then he will show you how irreplaceable he is.

Over the next week, Goo is at your beck and call. His clinginess taken to whole new levels. He's at your home more often than not, by your side almost every moment of the day.

"Don't you have work?" You ask when he's glued to your side one morning.

"You're more important, sweetheart," he says, words off the cuff and surface level.

It's only hours later, when he has reluctantly peeled himself away to finish a task with Gun, he realises that it's not entirely inaccurate.

Free time is spent driving you from A-to-B. Heavens forbid you are forced to use public transport (Goo shudders at this thought) and since you hate Seoul traffic, he might as well keep you company.

He's on his most gentlemanly best behaviour. 

Holding doors open, draping his jacket over you if so much as a gentle breeze is around. Hand-made meals, lunches and extravagant dinners. Even chores.

"Do you live here now?" You ask, padding out to your kitchen. Half asleep, hair in disarray to Goo humming and washing your dishes.

He smiles, sly and snake-like, "Are you asking?"

With a yawn, you burst his bubble, "Nope."

Goddamnit. Not even trying to be the best househusband seems to be working. What will it take for you to confess that you like him? He's getting sick of this song and dance.

He scrubs with a huff at a particular stubborn stain on a pan. Stupid pan and stupid chores and stupid househusbandry.

Ugh. What pisses him off most of all is: he thinks he can get used to this. 

Being around you all the time, taking care of you. Not even you in your ratty old sleepwear, with threadbare knees and oversized t-shirt dims how he feels about you.

.

.

Goo isn't an idiot, despite what Gun might say.

He possesses frightening intelligence even if sometimes his common sense is nowhere to be seen.

You like him, he knows this. He likes you, he also knows this. 

Then why on earth can't he bring himself to tell you? Is it that expressing it is a vulnerability he's not used to having on display? That despite everything, speaking it into existence means that he's offering you himself and there is always a chance of rejection?

If Goo was more mentally balanced and less self absorbed, maybe he would dwell on these doubts and feelings. Be introspective for the first time ever. 

He is not.

Instead he feels overwhelming indignation that it has come to this, that nothing has had the desired effect, and most importantly it's all your fault.

He puts all his energy into storming his way over to your home, wanting everything and everyone around him to be also darkened by his mood.  Makes sure his displeasure is felt through the way he stomps, how he slams his car door, how he blasts through traffic lights. Buzzing himself into your apartment building with vehemence, pounding on your front door until he hears your exasperation from somewhere inside.

"Hold on Goo! What the hell!"

The door is yanked open. For a brief moment Goo sees your annoyed expression, before he too is yanked inside.

"What is your problem?" Each word is punctuated with a jab in his chest.

Goo refrains from devolving into a tantrum. Realises that he already seems unhinged enough and doesn't want this conversation to get any worse. 

Taking a deep breath, he grabs hold of that jabby finger (noting with amusement that other people's fingers he has broken for much less), adorned with a familiar ring, pulls your hand into his and strokes over your knuckles once, twice, three times.

He is absolutely not buying time. But really, why has it come to this: sincerity and honesty. How unseemly. This is so not him that even the idea of it sends shivers down his spine.

Whatever. With one last breath he forces out any trepidation and regains his usual composure. The one that is all confidence and captivating and can talk circles around anyone anyday.

"Y/N,” he purrs, "I like you and you like me."

You open your mouth to say something but he presses on. "It's obvious. I'm not stupid.”  Goo points to his glasses, “I have eyes. I can see how you are around me, cupcake. And it's painfully obvious that I like you too." He allows himself an irritable sigh at this.

"Honestly I'm the one that gets courted. I'm a catch. People chase after me," he mutters to himself. "And yet look at me now."  Huffing at himself for his behaviour, he turns back to you. "Why don’t we see how this-" signalling between you and him, "-goes, hmm? 

"Wait," you take a step back from his presumptiveness.

Which isn't wrong, per se. In fact, he is completely spot on. Goo is an objectively attractive guy, you would be blind not to realise it (or have questionable taste). Sure his personality offsets his looks, because good god it can be grating as hell, but even with all his flaws he has wormed himself into your heart and into your life too.

You flitter somewhere between friends and more. Friends, with this odd, prickly, scheming creature is a miracle in itself. You’re not sure why this red flag shines green with you but he does. You don't know how you balance each other but you do. You don't know how it works but it does. 

Moving this to something more though, it scares you. Especially if he's as blasé and unserious about this as he is with most things in his life that don't revolve around money.

"Goo..." You try to phrase this delicately. "Your relationships or encounters or whatever you want to call them don't end well." He gasps at your words. "I don't want to start up some casual whatever with you for you to then change your mind. It could really mess things up between us."

"Casual?" He scoffs, dismissing your concerns with a wave of his hand,  "I've been 100% from the start. You should know I'm all in, sweetheart."

Your breath hitches. This wasn't what you meant. This wasn't what you were asking but he answers your doubts anyway.

"I'm all in on this," he repeats, crossing his heart mockingly though there is no disguising the earnestness in his words; how his actions over the last weeks and months have shown you that he's serious.

Still. You want to double-check.

"...Are you sure?"

"Y/N. Sweetheart." he places your own hand over his heart, "I've never been more sure of anything."

His glasses catch the light. Flashing mischievously and wickedly like it always does yet you can't see any ill intent. There's no hesitancy in his conviction.

"We fit, don't we?" Goo smiles, sensing your apprehension wavering and crumbling.

You can't deny that you do.

"Yes," is your simple reply. You peer at him from below your lashes and find him looking at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

Still pressed against his heart, Goo moves your hand up to his lips. A playful grin that is full of promises spreads across his face. His eyes don’t leave yours as he seals it all, marks it official, with a kiss.