#mean stack development firm

[cheonstapes]

UHMM LEFT US HANGIN W THAT SPIDER BARBIE BEACH POST?? GONNA NEED THAT SPICY PART ASAAPP 😭

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘LET'S GO BEACH: AGAIN’ (っ˘ω˘ς )

@cheonstapes; ik you guys are tired of me :( getting back into writing is so hard aftter thinking you're not good enough but seeing people still like my posts gave me some motivation to come back! i will admit, i don't read miguel fics anymore but that doesn't mean i won't write for him anymore -- that said, PLEASE SEND VI REQUESTS:))))) thank you for your request my love and i love you all and thank you for supporting me🩷

part one!

1.7k words

cw; SMUT!!, FEM!READER, switch!miguel, switch!reader, finger fucking, og i just realised they never kiss :9, mutual pining, miguel is kinda mean but he loves you, water sex?, public nudity, slight exhibitionism (?), NAWT PROOFREAD!!!!

You thought the longer you looked at it, maybe you’d suddenly develop some sort of telekinetic powers to drag it back toward you — but alas, you are not eleven nor are you Moana to be controlling the water. It was cheap, you knew that, and you could never resist a good sale. But you may have slightly overestimated the strength of the flimsy strings of your bra, greatly, actually. Before you could dwell on the unfortunate demise of your bikini top, the firm tug on your exposed nipple snapped your head back round, a dripping hand clamping down on the rough one beneath it.

 “M-Miguel! Don’t— um, don’t look!” The man in question had a good look, a good few looks already at your pretty little tits — the perfect size for him to cup in his hands, imagining his burly fingers dancing along the damp underside of your skin. “Yeah…it’s a bit too late for that, cariño. You know you’re lucky we’re in the water right now, or else you would’ve flashed the whole beach.” 

With how hot your face felt at that moment, you swore you could see the water evaporating around you. Miguel’s smile was nothing short of predatory, those sharp, slightly crooked, fangs poking out of the wetted slit of his lip. “It’s almost like you wanted that to happen. You didn’t think I’d notice you loosening the strings earlier?” Well, you did loosen the strings, yes. But only because they were too tight! And you might’ve, allegedly, planned that little stunt in the water when the waves were looking a little too rough — rough enough to mess with your skimpy little bra. Chica sucia.

The waves had calmed, lapping against the skin of your legs as the sun shone down on you both — peeking past Miguel’s absurdly wide shoulders to catch a glance of the beach. “Empty.” Aside from the few strays packing away the last of their belongings, even your little group had gone home, not like you had planned this from the start. Pshh! That’d be crazy. His head tilts in the direction of your eye line, a wry smile creeping its way up onto his lips. “Hm? You planning on doing something with that observation, barbie?” 

On a normal day, you’d probably be disgusted at the thought of floating in the middle of the ocean with your tits out on display in front of a man — but this was not a normal day. And he isn’t any man, he’s your boss. You’re stupidly sexy, brooding, hulking, hunk of a boss. Things between the two of you hadn’t been the same since that little encounter before, and you’d be lying if you said you wished things went back to how it was. Oh, how you longed for a moment like that again — and oh, how many bottles of lube are stacked up inside the bin in Miguel’s office because he couldn’t get you out of his head since that fateful day. 

“N-no! Of course not,” you weren’t a very convincing liar, Miguel already knew that. But it doesn’t hurt to tease you a little bit. “I just don’t want, like, some family to see tits or something. I don’t wanna traumatise someone’s kids!” Well, if someone’s not complaining it’s definitely him. Though your hands were doing a piss poor job at covering them, the pebbles of your nipples peeking out from the slits of your shivering fingers.

The ripples of the water caused your head to snap back to the man in front of you as he slowly waded his way toward you — naturally, you would probably feel inclined to swim backwards but something was anchoring your body still. Circling around you, his wet chest stuck to your back. A sudden weight was lifted from your chest, literally, as he cupped your tits in his hand like a makeshift bra. 

“Problem solved, princess.” Miguel’s voice came in a low, amused grumble in your ear — deft fingers tweaking at your pebbled nipples with the hunger of a man possessed, wet strands of his hair tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. The faint lapping of waves against your heated body, soft howling of the wind, was partly broken by the breathy whimpers that were being forced out your mouth in time with the more feral grunting from the man behind you.

“Miguel,” the name of such a confident and powerful man suddenly sounded meek and pathetic coming from your lips, it was an extraordinary feat to keep your body from losing complete composure when the delicate throbbing of his cock brushed against your back. “Please — fuck, I…I need you, more!” as much as it was a deeply harboured fantasy of yours to see your stoic boss as whiny and submissive as you were being — all ounces of shame exploded as supernovas danced behind your eyes with the brush of the tip of his fingers against the damp fabric of your panties.

“Use your words, pretty. I’m already so close to your cute little cunt, you just need to tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” The engorged pulsing of your clit was erratic against his wandering hands, deft fingers rubbing harsh circles against the swollen flesh. His lips trailed behind your ear, not before leaving a harsh bite to the salty skin — fangs(?) imprinting a deep set of fresh marks onto your neck. Nevertheless, as you watched your bra float further and further away from you, whatever was left of your mushy brain seemed to fizzle out before you were left a pathetic panting mess — only pausing to swallow the bucketloads of sea water and saliva that built in your gaping mouth.

“Fuck me, Miguel — just, shit…do something, you asshole.” Logically, insulting the man who had his cock and fingers so dangerously close to your leaking hole wasn’t the smartest idea — and at this point, drowning seemed like a better option than being denied an orgasm you’d been waiting 15 agonising minutes for. But Miguel wasn’t that cruel of a man, not to his precious doll at least. “There’s my girl.” A large hand swiped between your folds, a sticky sweet string of cum snapping in the water as he plunged his fingers inside — massaging the spongy walls with practiced ease.

With his free hand still cupping the weight of your chest, giving a cheeky squeeze here and there, his sharp teeth pinched the sensitive skin down the slope of your shoulder — tongue darting out to lick and suck purple blemishes onto his new favourite canvas. “So fucking desperate for me that you’re letting me finger fuck you in the middle of the ocean? If I’d known you wanted me so bad, I’d have had you taking this cock months ago.” Despite the shame bubbling in your stomach, you couldn’t mistake the impeding heat there too — luckily no one but the rising moon would see how much of a slut you were being right now.

“Y-You’re one to talk— those shorts look a little tight on you, boss.” Fuck, he loved your mouth. Even if it wasn’t choking on his cock, but rather making fun of it — he loved it nonetheless. Normally he would’ve been out of the flimsy material by now, shoved himself inside, and made a mess inside whatever hole he was fucking. But today? Today he was fucking you — and you aren’t just any hole. And you, being the absolute sweetheart you are, couldn’t bear to leave your boss blue balled whilst you came your brains out.

With a quick manoeuvre, and practiced flexibility that Miguel will definitely keep in mind for later, you hooked your feet behind his knees to press your ass up against him to rub against his achy shaft to provide him some semblance of relief. And oh the relief it was, finally seeing the crack in that well polished demeanour he always presented. “F-Fu…fuck— cariño, that ass of yours is sin.” The whimpery tone of his voice was unbecoming of a man of his stature, but you were gonna make sure you pulled more out of that sexy man before the night was through.

The fingers buried knuckles deep in your glazed walls stuttered momentarily, pushing into you so hard you’d swear he was fucking them into your womb like he was trying to get you pregnant with them. “Does it feel good, boss?” And you had the nerve to be all giggly when he’s trying to keep himself from contaminating the water with his cum, his body tensing as the thickness of his bulge grinds between the plump globes. Of course it felt fucking good, it was the best fucking thing he’s ever felt aside from the tits still in his hand right now. 

Crazy how a little bit of ass can reduce your boss to a growling, panting mess — pressing you flush against him to rub the tip of his clothed cock against his own fingers as he matched his grinding to his fervent fucking, “Ha…if you’re this desperate with just your fingers than how are you gonna be when I finally let you fuck me?” Turning the tables on him was so tiring when your cunt’s still getting pounded two ways till Tuesday with your clit throbbing so hard it’s giving you a headache — but the continuous faltering in his movements told you he wasn’t too far himself.

“Shut the f-fuck up, I..shit—  acting so high and mighty while your greedy hole is swallowing up my fucking fingers, hm?” Did his voice get even deeper? Cause Jesus fuck did it make you even wetter, you couldn’t distinguish it from the sea if you tried. A harsh, prolonged prod at your womb froze up your warm body — another thick finger finally finding your enlarged clit as the spasming around his fingers intensified and breathy notes caressed his sensitive ears.

Silky strings of cum floated around you, momentary disgust flooding straight out of your system as you turned to look at your now red faced boss — who was struggling to hold back another hard on from staring at the slicked skin of your chest. “You really just came from a little bumping and grinding, boss? No wonder you’re always so tense— you’re pent up.” 

Now sporting a grumpy from, a large hand turned your face away from his — the other reaching down to not-so-subtly adjust his temperamental cock. Bad boy. “Be quiet, you little exhibitionist. Get a better bikini next time, yeah?”

“Only if you’re paying for it, boss.”

[theegyal]

Making You Bark ( Annie x Smoke )

A one shot commissioned by @yourmommmmma12244

A/N : yes I changed the name of the one shot. It was supposed to be “our Marriage” but I fell in love with that last line I wrote so 😆

⚠️: Smut ; Pegging ; Anal ; Threesome ; BDSM ; Read at your own risk ⛔️

Sorry for the grammar/syntax mistakes

Smoke hadn't said anything since she told him what she wanted.

Their marriage had always been perfect until recently. No matter what they did, their bed remain cold, sex couldn't be any worse than it was.

Of course they tried every possible method to reignite the flame between them : Magazines, role play, adult films...they even invited Stack for a menage à trois, Annie thought that maybe her husband had cuck tendencies. Well it was not something of this sort.

He did have some ill pleasures of his own. Those he never confessed to anyone. Yet, oddly, his lovely wife decided today to get a hold on his wild fantasies.

Smoke glided ravenous eyes on her body.

Cornrows braids beautifully crowned her head, each crafted with cowries, her eyes were filled with tenderness and a glint of something else. He continued to stare, wandering to her voluptuous neckline, then her delicious hips. Here, he stopped his jaunt, focusing on the soft, large yet firm dip-hips. He could only imagine how they could move behind him.

It all started when Annie was away due to work. He couldn't help but to watch porns thinking he might learn some tricks or two, to make her feel good. The video itself showed nothing extraordinary, a casual gang bang scene : two women and a guy.

The man on four knees flicking one chick's clit with his tongue, driving three fingers in her cunt as she met each thrust with gasps.

The second woman stayed still, her big tits bouncing side to side, following the erratic rhythm of her breathing. She hadn't jerked her panties away, and Smoke body understood why when he saw the huge bulge under her laced drawer. Fuck, hers is bigger than his — That's what he thought. His own dick throbbed, swollen under his pants.

The said woman, shifted behind the guy, her nails clawing at his thighs. She stroked her big length between his buttocks, the guy arched his back deeper against the mattress, panting. His mouth never leaving the pussy he was eating.

She spat on her palm then rubbed his bootyhole, sliding two fingers in his anus, making sure he was ready.

Smoke wanted to shut down his computer, and move on his day but he couldn't. Heat rose in his entire being, his nipples stiffened, his cock threatening to burst out his boxer. He choked a moan when the woman shoved her big brown dick inside the guy, bucking her hips against his while clenching her hands deeper on his cheeks.

The man's own cock pulsed, veins messily invaded his gorged flesh. He let out whimpers, his dick milking, dripping the sheets with sperm.

They were making a train : a first woman getting a head, while the male got his ass drilled by the second woman.

Smoke was excited. He loved watching that woman fuck the guy. He loved every thrusts, his pants were soaked and sticky of his own climax.

Well since that day. He developed a kink. He was afraid of Annie being creeped out, so he didn't say a thing.

But tonight, here she was. Her huge tits outs, hard, her nipples clamped. Leather panties with a zip open, peeping at her pubis coiled hair.

"W—What are you sayin' ?" Smoke asked, feigning ignorance.

"We never try BDSM." She replied, opening a briefcase she had brought with her.

Smoke remains dumbfounded, staring at the inside of the bag : Paddles, nipples clamps, ball gag, puppy hood and collars, shackles, blindfold,butt plugs...

"I saw your recent web history...I can take it as cheating you know..." she continued, laying each tools on the red sheet of their mattress.

A shiver ran down Smoke's spine. He rushed standing up, trying to find any excuses he could. "NO—It's not that—I wanted—I mean"

"Mmh mmh" Annie simply nodded, turning around, searching something in the cupboards. "I can take care of you Elijah" she mewled sensually.

" I don't know what this non sense about ! But you be—better s—stop right now, Annie Moore !" He shouted, stuttering.

The sight of her peachy oiled ass cheeks made him rise. The black string sliced her ass in a pair. His swollen cock was throbbing under his pajama shorts, he faked scratching his full-milky balls, just to rub his tip.

Annie faced him again, walking cat-like toward the tensed man. She clung her bare soft boobs against his chest, pressing her restrained nipples on his own.

She leaned close to his ear and whispered "I got one bigger than the girl in your lil video"

Smoke heart was racing, faster than Usain Bolt. A mixed feelings of excitement, shame and guilt.

Aroused by the thought of Annie thrusting his tight virgin hole.

Ashamed because of his new attraction to anal.

Guilty because he was too proud to tell her about this and let their marriage sank.

"Elijah...you should let mama handle it..."   She murmured, grazing her palm on his crotch "you already that hard. I'm wondering about here" she slid her hand over his bum, grabbing it in a strong fist. Li

Smoke got hot, his skin humid of pleasure. His balls ached as much as the pulse that made his bootyhole beat. Annie slowly undressed him. From the pajama shorts, ending with the loose grey shirt.

She pushed him on the bed. Lowered the zip of her leather lingerie, allowing her wet fat clit to breathe. The next seconds, with confidence, she slipped on his rounded boxer, thick thighs tightened at each extremity of his hips.

"You need to relax Smoke" she said, bucking on his erection. Annie felt the drawer's fabric tickling her big button left and right, her inner walls became more and more lively, opening and closing their gates as if they expected something in.

She never stopped dancing, moving forward and backward. She was on her rodeo time.

"Annie please stop—I" Smoke groaned, clenching on the sheets, his back sinking deeper into the mattress.

"You want to let that dick out Smoke ? You want mama to see how hard you are ?"

"Ugh—please—A—Annie stop"

He was on the verge of cumming, the friction between his base and her clit released spasms in his whole body, leaving no place for rest. Smoke could sense her granulated cunt poking at his cock, dripping juice on his already drenched boxer. Each rubs made him shudder. His beautiful features uglied in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Oh no no Smokee— I can feel you coming. It's not good" She got up, ending the rodeo.

His face turned surprisingly disappointed. She threw him a sloppy glance and said. "Let's choose a safe word"

"S—safe word ?" He managed to say in a desperate sob.

"the book said it's mandatory. No matter what happens when one say the word, we end everything."

" 2006" he whispered, sweaty.

"The year of our wedding day." She mumbled back and smiled, lovingly.

Annie leaned her hand right beside him, grabbing a metal blue chastity cock cage. While her amateur yet sharp fingers were unlocking the device, her eyes never left Smoke. He seemed afraid, terrified at the tool's click sound.

In an instant, he folded upright, crawling to the back of the bed.

" the fuck is that ?" He barked, almost menacingly.

"Did you ever find the ache of not being able to masturbate...exciting ? Like, your whole body demands a closure you ain't able to give ?" She advanced close to him, clic-clacking her nails on the padlock "just like earlier. You wanted to grow out your dick and filling in my pussy. My juice on your boxer wasn't enough. You wanted to feel my inner walls clenched around your penis, my wetness burning your tip...however you didn't pull your dick out, Smoke." She put a knee on the mattress.

"You wanna know why ? Because you loved the pain of not being able to fuck me yet. You loved the sensation of your swollen cock being pressed, constricted in your boxer. You loved to feel your blood boiling, rushing to your tip, claiming a burst you know will never come." Annie paused, brushing the cold metal against his watery bulge. "More important. You love to be wet Smoke. You love how your dick sticky of your own cum. And I'm pretty sure the heat spread backwards too"

"Annie—" he growled, his thang getting bigger and bigger.

At this right instant. Smoke hated Annie. He hated her for being right. Hated her for playing psycho with their sex time. He hated her for touching his flesh with the cold metal and how bad he got excited because of it .

"You know...you can say the safe word. I don't want to do something you ain't like" she fist the cage back in her palm, stepping back.

"I—Annie"

"Mmh ?"

"I want to try it" he muttered under his breath.

"What ? I didn't hear a thing ?" Liar. Obviously she heard. But it wouldn't be funny to not tease the beast.

"I want you to cage my dick." He said aloud, practically howling.

"You're just at the right place. Legs apart, baby," she commanded.

Despite agreeing, Smoke hesitated. Just long enough for Annie to raise a brow, annoyed.

"Elijah." She didn't call him Smoke or Smokee. He could see her eyes darkened, a veil of irritation covering them. "Your legs. Or maybe should I just have to conclude you cheated on me back then ? Is that what we became Elijah ?"

Annie turned her face aside, faking tears and wailing.

"No. Of course no"

He parted his thighs with a shake, the weight of shame falling somewhere between his chest and his dick. Shame never been so honey and fire. The spread

made his mind wander. What's next ? What she gonna do ?

Annie knelt between his legs, fingers brushing around his navel. She first tugged  the sticky cloth right side, freeing one of his balls, she did the same for the other side then groped the hardened rifle in hand. He was full and erected.

"You're so sensitive baby" she pressed out the lil milk out his urethra "it's hot"

She was beating her own will to not drop the act and shove his dick in her mouth. But right now, she needed to behave.

She led his dick to the cage. Smoke gasped as she slipped the base ring behind his balls, lifting them one by one. The sudden snugness had his breath hitching. Then came the rest : the cap, the shaft tube. His pinned flesh twitched inside, unable to grow anymore. The metal chafed against a penial lost skin. He let out a painful breath.

"Shh. Big mama is here Smokee. You want it too, right ?" Annie turned the key into the padlock, smirking "you ain't fully ready yet, isn't it baby ?"

Smoke couldn't really talk, he was straining his dick inside he cage, trying to find way to jerk. He was so pitiful, his attempts made her laugh.

"Tell me Smokee. Who's your favorite girl ?"

"Ugh—shit" he shuddered.

"Oh ?"

"It—it's you Annie. Please le—lemme go"

Annie nodded negatively, then took another toy from behind her back : the ball gag.

She brought the ball near her mouth, shove her sticky tongue out and lick it lasciviously right on his face. Her saliva moistening the rounded thing.

"Do you want to taste ya favorite girl Smoke ?"

Her game was inhuman. How could she asked such question while he was fighting to remain sane. The metal against his throbbing dick hurt so much. The slit of his cockhead peeked out through the tip, begging her for freedom.

"I swear—I would—I would never make you angry again. Please Annie"

"But I'm not angry my love . I'm just trying to please you."

Ball gag on hand, she left her posture on knees then land back on her ass, spreading her thighs.

He saw everything. Her lil pubis bush wet and sticky, her phat pinky clit that still pulsing, the creamy texture leaking from her vagina.

"You love to watch woman having fun, huh Smoke ?" On these words, she eased the ball of the gag inside her, grinding. In an instant the ball was creaming, making irresistible squishy noises.

His penis squeezed against the metallic barrier of the cage. Smoke felt humiliated, powerless. Those feelings were oddly pleasant. Painful but thrilling.

After deep thrusts, vaginal fluttering, Annie slid out the ball. Her state backed and fourth between the filthy ball and her husband opened mouth.

"You wanna taste ya favorite girl, Smoke ?" She repeated her question.

He didn't voice his answer letting his body speak for him. Smoke widened his mouth, lips parted, tongue out, drooling.

Annie sank the ball in his mouth and clipped the gag tightly.

"Good boy" she said, patting his head.

Smoke landed in heaven. His wife's juice filled his mouth. Salty on his tongue, sweet when he swallowed.

"Get on your knees." This time he obeyed without hesitation. She was his mistress and as a servant, all he could do was obey.

Now, fully stood up, Annie pull one leg against a wall behind the back of the bed. Her coonie was glistening, saucy with cream, juicy with wetness. Small queech singing out loud.

She bucked her hips close to Smoke's face and commanded :

"Rub my clit with the ball"

Erratic, he planted his face on her folds, smelling her thick feminine scent. The toy between his lips easily finding a way to Annie's button, rubbing it with care and frenzy.

"Oh—keep going. Fu—Fuck" she moaned gripping his hair. Her legs shaking, shambling. Annie didn't wait the messiah's return to gush over Smoke's face. Squirt dripping all over his face, leaking from the corner of his eyes to his chin.

"Your turn Elijah. I know you feel shy. Lemme help you"

Here came the time for another toy. This time she brought the puppy hood.

What ? Him ? Elijah Smoke Moore. Ex corporate executive, former member of Al Capone gang and future mayor of this town...wearing a dog's restrain mask?

Enough. Maybe he should just say the safe word...

"You want to stop ?" She asked.

Damn, all he could see in her eyes was an eerie glint. Not mocking, rather challenging. She wanted to test his boundaries. How far he would allowed her to drag the line.

He couldn't give her an audible answer. Not with the gag strapped tight around his head and the craving scent of her pussy stuck on his nose.

"Come on sweet love. Put this on for me"

She brought the ridiculous mask near his face. It was shaped with rounded ears and an open mouth slot.

She pull the leather mask on his head, unbuckled the ball gag behind. His mouth hung open, jaw aching, breath ragged.

"Look at you," she said softly, brushing her thumb along the side of his leathered cheek. "My good boy."

Something inside him broke and flourished at once. He panted, the open jaw of the hood encouraging it, tongue sliding out to catch the taste still left on his lips. He felt filthy. Humiliated and Owned.

"Now crawl for me."

He dropped on all fours, the cage around his cock straining with every movement. The heat between his thighs was unbearable. His ass arched involuntarily.

Smoke crawled forward, sniffing the bedsheets. Annie strutted around him, monitoring his movements. Her fingers grazed his back, the small of his spine, his ass cheeks still clenched tight.

He whined, tongue out, claiming justice. Annie delighted, couldn't help but smirk.

"All that ass baby." She started "I want to see how you'll act when I'll stretched out your anus" she barked ruthlessly.

She dropped behind his bum. Smoke ? He stopped his resistance,didn't even try to speak. He just wagged his ass in the air, spreading his knees a little wider, the cage pressed hard into the mattress, tongue lolling out of the hood.

"Good boy" she said before thumbing his bootyhole, drawing circle around the deep brown hole.

His anus puckered, clenching at the air, leaking from her earlier teasing. Annie snatched a geisha pearls from a box beneath the bed. Slowly, she pushed the anal plug inside his tight hole, thrusting it deeper and deeper. He cried out, as pleasure overwhelmed pain.

“Fuck. You are so tight. You love the way the pearls bounce inside you right ?

Annie flicked her tongue around his stretchy, sloppy butthole. Mixing saliva and anal fluid. Smoke lost any common sense, his body jerked, cock flaming against the cold metal cage, drool leaking from his mouth. His features uglied of pleasure. He wanted something bigger inside.

“Bark for mama Smoke” he arched deeper, rising his spread cheeks up, wagging indecent on Annie’s face, then barked. Tongue always out, letting saliva drop on the mattress.

“Yes pup, show mama how you can bark” she replied, her tits stiffened.

“Fuck my ass Aann—Annie.” Smoke begged his trapped cock stroking difficulty on the silk sheets.

“I just waited for you to ask”

As if she transported Ali baba treasure, Annie pull out a blue strap-on with 14 inches black dildo . She clipped the harness right, tighter around her waist then start teasing him.

Annie took her time, rubbing the fat head of the strap-on against his stretched hole, letting the lube drip down the seam of his crack. She didn’t push in yet.

“Please, Annie. Please f-fuck me.” Smoke broke down in tears.

“Have you been a good hubby ? Did you deserve it Smoke ?”

“I beg you”

“Mmh— let me in then”

She shoved the silicon dick inside his anus. The thick tip breached him, and his whole body bucked but Annie grabbed his hips, locking him still.

“ you like that babe ? Fuck you’re so deep” she drove her dick deeper, bending him over, her huge tits brushing his back.

“ you’re such a bitch. You love it when big mama pound your bum huh ?”

She grounded herself, her hips against his.

“Fuck— Take all of it. Make that little hole swallow every inch.”

She drilled his ass. The sound of her pelvis slapping his cheeks filled the room, wet and filthy.

Smoke never stopped drooling like a dog, tongue out, cage bouncing each time she rammed in.

Annie leaned back to watch—his ass swollen and trembling, his thighs slick with sweat, the cage now fully glazed with thick milky cum.

“ Ugh—Aah” Smoke moaned animalistic, “Annie… A-Annie… I love you—oh fuck—I love—”

Her hand reached down between his thighs, brushing over the base of the cage. With slick motion, she unlocked the device letting his dick sprung free, veinous, arched and snowy.

Every last thrust of her, made him jerked thick sticky cum away.

Both reached climax, when Annie pulled out of his ass.

“Was it good Elijah ?”

“Fuck—Annie. I’m sorry”

“Why ? For being yourself? Ain’t nothing bad with kinks love. I found mine.”

“Huh ?”

“Making you bark”

Tag List :

@boonoonoonus , @yourmommmmma12244 , @coconutxraikage , @lucidaquarian , @prettygirl2800 , @weariwant99 , @itstayleigh , @bigjh , @tnychellee

Y’all just super freaky girls for real 🤣🤣🤣. Welllp I had too much fun writing this !

[h4rring1on]

I have a request, can I have one where Eddie and the reader is Eddie best friend, later on Eddie starts dating Chrissy but he doesn’t know that the reader likes him. The reader being sad and distant towards him though out the time.. Eddie being confused and mad at reader and thinking she is jealous, later on gets into argument with her doesn’t talk to the reader for a few weeks, very angst, for the end you make your own if you want fluff or angst. Thank you, I love your writing ❤️❤️❤️

a/n: i’m so excited for this i hope i did well though. 💔💔 did i lose my touch be honest 🙏🏻

you and eddie have been friends for god knows how long, ever since that day at recess, you’d been playing with this random toy you’d seen and he was quick to confront you, it was his!

after you ran off crying, he came to you and handed you the same toy.

‘jus quit crying! jeez you can have it!!’

ever since then, you’d been inseparable. you were around a year or two younger than him. so when he was held back in school, you were catching up to him which made you even closer than you already were

soon enough, you’d developed a crush on him. at first, it was harmless. maybe a little giggle here and there, a tiny thought in the back of your mind maybe once a week

i’d date him

but it was never anything to act upon, since you weren’t all that interested in him. until it just got worse and worse, and robin had quite the earful about it practically every day!

steve also heard about it a few times here and there since he was usually in the background stacking the shelves or so, but not the full story

you couldn’t help it though. he was so kind to you, he’d get you snacks n everything! you had a tradition, every friday night you buy a ton of snacks and watch a cheesy movie!

it was your thing.

he was so caring and loving to you that people generally thought you were dating until they got the unfortunate news

you were content with being only friends though, at least he still did quite a lot for you. up until that one day

that horrible day. where everything got ruined

you’d been walking with eddie around the school halls, talking, until he bumped into chrissy.

“oh my gosh i’m so sor…” she trails off as she looks at him

he smiles and grabs the things from the floor

“it’s all good pretty” he says and she’d suddenly opened a conversation, it was too awkward for you so you just went on to class, since you were obviously not gonna sit and watch them talk. which took like a year to finish, he didn’t even come to class!

what could’ve been so interesting he missed class to talk about.

it kept going on like this, he stopped sitting with you during break time, he’d walk her home, he’d miss classes for her, and you had held it all in up until he did it.

he did it.

you had been waiting for the past three hours at the supermarket so he could come, it was friday night, which meant it was time for your tradition.

he didn’t come, and you broke when, on your way home, you saw him and chrissy going into the movie theater, smiling as wide as possible.

he’d broken the 5 year long tradition…for her?

you went home sobbing, if anyone knew why, they’d think it would be a stupid reason, but it wasn’t. it truly hurt. he practically chose her over you.

you stopped trying to think positively after that, to just say, it’s fine! it’s just today! or—he didn’t mean to, maybe he forgot!

both steve and robin noticed it after you stopped talking about him so much, or even talking to him for that matter.

everytime he’d approach you, you’d mumble out some short response and leave. and he definitely noticed, even in the times where he does sit with you, you’d get up and leave.

it kept going on like this up until on your walk home, he grips your wrist and turns you, not harshly but firm enough to stop you.

you furrow your eyebrows as you look at him, expecting something

“well?” he says and you look around, confused

“what?”

“wh—what?? you’re asking what?? you’re not gonna explain why the hell you’ve been acting so weird?” he spits out, it was clear he’s had enough

you shrug, “weird how?” you question

“don’t bullshit me. you know exactly what i’m talking about! what the hell is going on with you!”

you laugh, as if he really had the right to ask that after how he’s been acting

“what’s going on with me? how about what’s going on with you, munson!” you spit out, and he furrows his eyebrows, you’d never use his last name..

“you stop sitting with me at lunch, you miss classes just to see her, you barely ever see me! and—on top of all that—you miss our night. our night! the one we do every single week for the past five years and for what? chrissy? little princess of hawkins chrissy?”

he scoffs, “jesus christ—chrissy? that’s what this is about?!” he says and shakes his head

“yes it’s about chrissy! you barely even know her!”

“oh my god, i don’t think that’s any of your business! if youre so jealous because of how amazing she is just say that!”

“jealous? are you kidding me? that’s what you think this is? grow up, eddie!” you spit out

“it’s obviously jealousy! look at you! you see one girl that’s ten times better than you look my way and you go crazy!” he says and you pause, your heart clenched, how could he say that?

“what’s wrong with you? how could you even say that? i’ve been your best friend for—“

“don’t give me that bullshit! don’t play the victim! what is it, huh? because she’s popular? because she’s pretty? just admit you’re fucking obsessed! i don’t know how i ever even became friends with a freak like you”

your vision blurs, you don’t even say anything, you just turn and walk away, silently crying. who was this person?

eddie didn’t even bother to stay, he was quick to leave too. you walked into family video, robin wasn’t there, but steve was. and he was quick to notice your puffy red eyes, he rushed to you

“hey—hey hey peach.” he says softly and hugs you, and you breakdown in his arms, “woah woah—it’s okay…it’s okay” he rubs your back, trying to soothe you, “you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

you didn’t go to school for a couple of days, but when you did, you didn’t even bat an eye at eddie. who, in the meantime, was getting swallowed into a hole of utter guilt and shame.

he wasn’t even fully there when he was with chrissy, and in class, he’d stare at you the whole time. it went on like this for weeks, and eddie couldn’t take any more.

he didn’t even care about chrissy, and he’d realized your words were right and that she wasn’t really all that. how could be so blinded by her popularity and looks?

those weeks were hell, he’d truly realized how much he liked you, and how agonizingly painful it was to not be able to see you or talk to you at all.

so he dumped chrissy, and didn’t really feel anything. he picked up some flowers on the way and knocked on your door, this was it

you opened the door, surprised to see him, eddie noticed how pretty you look…and how he looked dead compared to you, he’s been suffering without you, you were too…right?

he calls your name and sighs, “i just…i wanted to explain myself—that day—i didn’t mean anything i said i swear to you. and—for chrissy—you were right. you were right about everything and it broke me when i stopped talking to y…” he trails off, his heart shattering at the sight of steve, in some boxers and no shirt, showing up from behind the door

you look away, and eddie didn’t speak, he just stays there, the anger building up.

“i’ll see you in a second baby okay?” you say and kiss steve before walking out and closing the door, and the look on eddie’s face got worse when you kissed steve

“wh—you’re dating him? you’re dating the king of hawkins?! that dipshit?!” he yells, how could you do this?!

wasn’t this ironic?

“what! jesus christ, this is about steve? really?” you mimic him, “if you’re so jealous about how amazing he is just say that” she says and smiles, walking away.

eddie mentally curses himself, she’d repeated the same words he said to her.

it was over. he’d lost his chance with the most amazing girl he’s ever met without realizing it.

that’s what he gets though

[lightdancingwords]

Crossroads of the Heart - Part Two of ?

Pairings: CJ Braxton x Y/N Female reader

Series Summary: Y/N is a psychology major assigned to shadow CJ at The Stand, unaware he's the one who basically saved her life four years before. CJ is unaware that she's the one who left a notable impact on him over the phone four years ago. As they navigate the work at The Stand, they develop a spark that demands revelation and connection.

Word Count: 2,164

Tags/Warnings: none really, though depression and alcoholism is mentioned.

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Evidently my muse won't shut up, so here we go! A new story in a new setting! I hope you all enjoy!

Dividers: credit to @saradika-graphics

Chapter Two: Introduction Part Deux

The Stand had the comforting hum of a place where lives were being quietly rebuilt. CJ stood at the front desk, scanning a list of volunteer and paid staff schedules and jotting notes in the margins. His sharp eyes took in the space around him—the posters on the walls, the bookshelf stacked with self-help guides, and the donation jar that always seemed to fill up faster than he expected. Every detail mattered to him. They were proof of how far this place had come.

The door opened with a gentle creak, and CJ instinctively looked up. A young woman stepped in, clutching a notebook against her chest. Her soft features and calm demeanor caught his attention immediately, though it was the way her eyes lingered on the room—taking in every detail like it mattered—that made him straighten.

“Hi,” she said, her voice smooth and warm, like the first notes of a melody. “I’m Y/N. I’m here to start my practicum.”

CJ set down his pen and stepped forward, offering a hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Welcome to The Stand. I’m CJ, the manager.”

She shook his hand with surprising firmness, though her gentle smile softened the gesture. “Thank you. It’s a privilege to be here. I’ve wanted to work with The Stand for a long time.”

Her words made CJ pause. He searched her face for a hint of familiarity, wondering if their paths had crossed before, but nothing clicked. “That’s good to hear,” he said, his curiosity piqued. “What drew you to us?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing against the edge of her notebook. “I’ve always believed in what you’re doing here,” she said carefully. “The idea that a single conversation could change someone’s life... it’s powerful. I wanted to be part of that.”

CJ nodded, his expression softening. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, the kind that couldn’t be faked. “That’s exactly what we try to do here,” he said. “It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it.”

“It must be,” she said, her voice laced with quiet admiration. “You’ve built something incredible.”

CJ chuckled, leaning against the counter. “It’s not just me. This place has been around for years. I just took the reins a while back and tried not to screw it up too much.”

She tilted her head, curious. “How did you end up here? I mean, running the place?”

The question hit a familiar nerve, one CJ had learned to navigate over the years. He looked down briefly, then met her gaze. “Honestly? I was a mess as a teenager. Alcoholism, depression... you name it. I hit rock bottom more times than I care to admit. The Stand was where I turned things around. I started as a volunteer, and it gave me a sense of purpose I didn’t think I’d ever find. When the opportunity came to manage it, I knew I couldn’t pass it up.”

Y/N’s expression softened, her eyes filled with an understanding that made CJ feel unexpectedly seen. “That’s... inspiring,” she said. “Not many people turn their lives around like that, let alone use their experience to help others.”

“It’s not always as noble as it sounds,” CJ admitted with a wry smile. “Some days it’s just about making it to the next one. But yeah, I guess I wanted to be the person I needed back then.”

“That’s a pretty noble goal to me,” Y/N said softly, the corners of her lips curling up in a smile.

CJ cleared his throat, feeling the weight of her gaze. “Well, enough about me. Let me show you around. You’ll get to know the team and see how we do things here.”

“I’d like that,” Y/N replied, her notebook now hanging loosely at her side as she followed him deeper into the space.

As they walked, Y/N asked thoughtful questions, her curiosity evident. “Do you ever wonder about the people you’ve helped? What happened to them?”

“All the time,” CJ admitted. “We don’t always get closure. Sometimes you just have to trust that you made a difference, even if you never see the results.” He thought back to one phone call four years ago that left such an impression, he had never forgotten it. He still had that poem, framed at his desk.

“I think you do,” she said, her voice steady. “Make a difference, I mean.”

He glanced at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

They reached the lounge, where a few staff members were gathered, laughing over a shared joke. CJ gestured to the room. “This is where the magic happens. Well, most of it, anyway. The team’s great—you’ll fit right in.”

Y/N looked around, taking in the warmth of the space. “I hope so. I’m ready to learn.”

CJ nodded, watching her with a growing sense of respect. There was something about her presence that felt... significant. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew one thing: she was here for a reason. And whatever that reason was, he had a feeling it mattered more than either of them realized yet.

CJ led Y/N into the lounge, the hum of conversation and the clatter of coffee mugs greeting them. A handful of staff members sat around the mismatched furniture, a casual but lively energy filling the room. The group’s laughter paused as CJ cleared his throat.

“Alright, everyone,” CJ started, his voice carrying the easy authority of someone both respected and liked. “We’ve got a new practicum student joining us. Meet Y/N.”

The staff turned their attention to her, their faces warm and welcoming. Y/N offered a shy wave, clutching her notebook a little tighter.

“Hi, everyone. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, her voice gentle but clear.

CJ gestured toward a young man sprawled on the couch with a laptop balanced precariously on his knees. “That’s Miles. He’s one of our longest-serving staffers and our resident tech wizard. If anything breaks around here, he’s the one who makes sure it’s working again—usually after some colorful cursing.”

Miles grinned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What CJ means is, I’m the guy who holds this place together when he’s not looking. Welcome aboard, Y/N. Need any tech tips, I’m your guy.”

“Thanks, Miles,” Y/N replied, her smile widening.

Next, CJ nodded toward a woman in her late twenties, her dark curls pulled into a loose bun, a mug of tea in her hands. “This is Priya. She’s our counseling lead and one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever worked with. She runs the training sessions and keeps us all in line.”

Priya raised her mug in greeting, her eyes sparkling with kindness. “Welcome, Y/N. If you have any questions—or need to vent after a tough shift—I’m always around.”

Y/N nodded, her grip on her notebook relaxing slightly. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“And over there,” CJ said, motioning toward a young woman seated cross-legged on the floor, a clipboard resting on her lap, “is Gabby. She’s newish, like you, but she’s already making waves.”

Gabby looked up, her ponytail swinging as she smiled brightly. “Only the good kind of waves, though. Nice to meet you, Y/N! You’ll love it here, I promise.”

“I can tell,” Y/N replied, her tone warm.

CJ let the group settle back into their conversation before turning back to Y/N. “They’ll all be part of your training in one way or another. You’ll shadow a few shifts with Priya and Gabby first to get a feel for how the calls are handled, then we’ll ease you into taking calls yourself. No pressure, though.”

Y/N nodded, her expression a mix of excitement and nerves. “Got it. I’m ready to learn.”

“Good,” CJ said, his voice softening. “We’re glad to have you here.”

He gestured toward an empty chair near the corner of the lounge. “For now, grab a seat and get to know everyone. I’ll grab the training manual and meet you back here in a bit.”

As CJ walked away, Y/N settled into the chair, feeling the hum of camaraderie around her. Miles leaned over from his spot on the couch, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“So, what’s in the notebook?” he asked with a playful grin. “Secret plans to overthrow CJ? Because if so, count me in.”

Y/N laughed, opening the notebook slightly to show pages filled with poems, notes, and inspirational quotes. “Nothing quite that dramatic. Just ideas and notes. I like keeping my thoughts organized.”

Gabby leaned over to peek as well. “Ooh, you write? That’s so cool! Maybe you can help come up with motivational posters to put around the place. We could use some new stuff!”

Y/N smiled, her nerves melting as the group pulled her into their easy rhythm. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

From the doorway, CJ watched for a moment, his hands in his pockets. Seeing Y/N laugh with the team filled him with a quiet satisfaction. He didn’t know what her full story was, but he had a feeling she’d bring something special to The Stand. And maybe, just maybe, she’d find something she was looking for here too.

After a moment, CJ returned to the lounge, a binder tucked under his arm and a clipboard in hand. He paused in the doorway, watching Y/N laugh at something Gabby had said. It was a good sign—she was settling in already.

“Alright, everyone,” CJ called out, stepping further into the room. “I need to steal Y/N for a bit.”

Y/N glanced up, gathering her notebook as she rose. She followed CJ back to the front desk, where he spread out a schedule and the training manual.

“So,” CJ began, tapping the clipboard with his pen, “here’s what your first week will look like. Tomorrow, you’ll start by sitting in with me during calls. You’ll listen, take notes, and get a feel for how we handle things. After that, we’ll pair you with Gabby or Priya for a couple of shadow shifts before easing you into taking calls yourself.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes scanning the schedule. “That sounds great. I like the idea of easing into it.”

“Good,” CJ said, giving her a small smile. “We don’t throw anyone into the deep end here. Everyone starts where you’re starting. It’s important to understand the flow and build confidence first.”

He flipped through the training manual, showing her the sections on call protocol and common scenarios. “This will be your homework for tonight. Don’t stress about memorizing everything, though. We’ll go over the key parts during training. After all, the manual is just a tool, not something we follow precisely. Every call will be different.”

Y/N flipped through the binder, her expression focused. “Thanks. I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

CJ set the clipboard down, leaning against the counter. “One more thing. Tomorrow, when you’re sitting in, don’t be afraid to ask questions. Even if it’s during a call, jot them down. We’ll go through everything after.”

“Got it,” she said, tucking the training manual under her arm. “I’ll be ready.”

CJ watched her for a moment, sensing her quiet determination. “You’re going to do fine here, Y/N. It’s normal to feel nervous, but I can already tell you’re the kind of person who’s going to make a real impact.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He straightened, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Alright, I’ll let you go for now. Get settled, look over the manual, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here,” she said, her voice steady.

As she walked toward the door, CJ called after her, “Oh, and bring that notebook. You’ll want to keep it handy.”

She laughed softly, lifting the notebook in a mock salute before stepping out into the evening.

CJ watched the door swing shut behind her, a faint smile lingering on his face. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he had a feeling about Y/N. Tomorrow would be just the beginning, and he was curious to see how she’d grow into the role—and how her presence might shift the dynamic of The Stand in ways they couldn’t yet predict.

He sat back down, glanced at the poem he framed on his desk. The newspaper color yellowed from exposure to the light, but it was still readable. He’d made copies, even a digital copy, so he’d never lose it one way or another. He never forgot that call, never forgot the girl. He often thought of her, wondered if she was okay. If she was thriving.

He hoped, one day, she’d call again, if only to give them an update.

CJ fingered the frame, let out a sigh, and went back to work. The helpline couldn’t handle itself, after all.

Tag List: If you want to be added to CJ's stories, please let me know here or on my Tag List!

Like my CJ stories? Check out my Beau Arlen story and my Dean Winchester story!

[wing-ed-thing]

Smoker x Pirate!Reader Relationship Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Mild Sexualization

𓆃 This... isn't going to go as well as you think it will.

𓆃 Because Smoker is one of the last people in the service who will throw away all of his deeply held views on justice and what that means just to chase the tail of an attractive pirate.

𓆃 Much of your relationship— or lack thereof— will look relatively normal on the outside with Smoker chasing you and you running from the Marines like the pirate you are.

𓆃 And any enjoyment you get out of your limited interactions will be largely up to you. It's on you whether you want to tease him, drag on your fights, and give him a firm slap on the ass before you leave, because Smoker isn't about to initiate any sort of closeness or fondness from his end.

𓆃 He's never going to make comments that resemble anything complimentary or claim his goals are anything different than taking you into custody.

𓆃 Although Smoker is a fan of repartee. So, while worming your way out of your Marine/pirate relationship is a no-go, you can warm him up to you through witty banter.

𓆃 And depending on your demeanor, you can essentially make yourself a part of Smoker's routine, and fighting you suddenly turns into a formality.

𓆃 "I suppose there's no way I could ask you to turn yourself in quietly, huh?" Smoker puffs every time, taking a drag of his cigar with his eyes cast toward the sky. He already knows how things between you end.

𓆃 You'll get away, and it'll be time for him to track you down so you can banter with him and start the cycle all over again.

𓆃 While his intentions to follow through with his orders will never quell, the more he develops a soft spot for you, the more negotiating he'll begin to do.

𓆃 First, they're with himself, as if his growing fondness and fixation for you are normal for his line of work.

𓆃 "It's a matter of pride," he'll grumble, "I'm a Marine, goddammit."

𓆃 Sticking to the work excuse doesn't last for long. After all, Smoker isn't one to lie to himself. And so the negotiations will shift to you.

𓆃 "You're wasted as a goddam pirate," "Look, if you turn yourself in, I might be able to pull a few strings to get you back on your feet after your sentencing," "We've been through this song and dance enough... c'mon now."

𓆃 You're not sure if he realizes that he's subconsciously resorted to trying to convince you to become a part of his world. That somehow you might join up or leave your life of crime behind— like that would change anything.

𓆃 Smoker will walk up to you with a sigh, his weapon thrown across his shoulder and his opposite hand in the pocket of his jacket.

𓆃 "No way you're turnin' yourself in?" he'll ask.

𓆃 "No chance in hell, Smoky," you'll tell him with a shake of your head.

𓆃 And that's how your relationship will go.

𓆃 There might be some times when he has no other choice but to deviate from your usual routine. Perhaps the stars aligned in your favor or the cards were stacked against him in a scenario where it made more sense to let you go.

𓆃 Or maybe he'll give into a lapse in judgment, giving into you a bit more but still never dropping his closely-held position in the Marines for a second.

𓆃 The only stability you'll have together is the consistent cycle of him trying to arrest you. And unless one of you gives in, that's all you'll ever truly be.

𓆃 No matter what the feelings are, what's happened in the past, or the fleeting moments of intimacy, Smoker isn't going to be the one to break.

𓆃 So it becomes a question of your freedom and if you're willing to give that up for the mere chance of a life with a man who you don't even know will truly accept you because of your past.

𓆃 Perhaps you'll see if and when the World Government crumbles...

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

"Open" "AI" isn’t

Tomorrow (19 Aug), I'm appearing at the San Diego Union-Tribune Festival of Books. I'm on a 2:30PM panel called "Return From Retirement," followed by a signing:

https://www.sandiegouniontribune.com/festivalofbooks

The crybabies who freak out about The Communist Manifesto appearing on university curriculum clearly never read it – chapter one is basically a long hymn to capitalism's flexibility and inventiveness, its ability to change form and adapt itself to everything the world throws at it and come out on top:

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1848/communist-manifesto/ch01.htm#007

Today, leftists signal this protean capacity of capital with the -washing suffix: greenwashing, genderwashing, queerwashing, wokewashing – all the ways capital cloaks itself in liberatory, progressive values, while still serving as a force for extraction, exploitation, and political corruption.

A smart capitalist is someone who, sensing the outrage at a world run by 150 old white guys in boardrooms, proposes replacing half of them with women, queers, and people of color. This is a superficial maneuver, sure, but it's an incredibly effective one.

In "Open (For Business): Big Tech, Concentrated Power, and the Political Economy of Open AI," a new working paper, Meredith Whittaker, David Gray Widder and Sarah B Myers document a new kind of -washing: openwashing:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4543807

Openwashing is the trick that large "AI" companies use to evade regulation and neutralizing critics, by casting themselves as forces of ethical capitalism, committed to the virtue of openness. No one should be surprised to learn that the products of the "open" wing of an industry whose products are neither "artificial," nor "intelligent," are also not "open." Every word AI huxters say is a lie; including "and," and "the."

So what work does the "open" in "open AI" do? "Open" here is supposed to invoke the "open" in "open source," a movement that emphasizes a software development methodology that promotes code transparency, reusability and extensibility, which are three important virtues.

But "open source" itself is an offshoot of a more foundational movement, the Free Software movement, whose goal is to promote freedom, and whose method is openness. The point of software freedom was technological self-determination, the right of technology users to decide not just what their technology does, but who it does it to and who it does it for:

https://locusmag.com/2022/01/cory-doctorow-science-fiction-is-a-luddite-literature/

The open source split from free software was ostensibly driven by the need to reassure investors and businesspeople so they would join the movement. The "free" in free software is (deliberately) ambiguous, a bit of wordplay that sometimes misleads people into thinking it means "Free as in Beer" when really it means "Free as in Speech" (in Romance languages, these distinctions are captured by translating "free" as "libre" rather than "gratis").

The idea behind open source was to rebrand free software in a less ambiguous – and more instrumental – package that stressed cost-savings and software quality, as well as "ecosystem benefits" from a co-operative form of development that recruited tinkerers, independents, and rivals to contribute to a robust infrastructural commons.

But "open" doesn't merely resolve the linguistic ambiguity of libre vs gratis – it does so by removing the "liberty" from "libre," the "freedom" from "free." "Open" changes the pole-star that movement participants follow as they set their course. Rather than asking "Which course of action makes us more free?" they ask, "Which course of action makes our software better?"

Thus, by dribs and drabs, the freedom leeches out of openness. Today's tech giants have mobilized "open" to create a two-tier system: the largest tech firms enjoy broad freedom themselves – they alone get to decide how their software stack is configured. But for all of us who rely on that (increasingly unavoidable) software stack, all we have is "open": the ability to peer inside that software and see how it works, and perhaps suggest improvements to it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBknF2yUZZ8

In the Big Tech internet, it's freedom for them, openness for us. "Openness" – transparency, reusability and extensibility – is valuable, but it shouldn't be mistaken for technological self-determination. As the tech sector becomes ever-more concentrated, the limits of openness become more apparent.

But even by those standards, the openness of "open AI" is thin gruel indeed (that goes triple for the company that calls itself "OpenAI," which is a particularly egregious openwasher).

The paper's authors start by suggesting that the "open" in "open AI" is meant to imply that an "open AI" can be scratch-built by competitors (or even hobbyists), but that this isn't true. Not only is the material that "open AI" companies publish insufficient for reproducing their products, even if those gaps were plugged, the resource burden required to do so is so intense that only the largest companies could do so.

Beyond this, the "open" parts of "open AI" are insufficient for achieving the other claimed benefits of "open AI": they don't promote auditing, or safety, or competition. Indeed, they often cut against these goals.

"Open AI" is a wordgame that exploits the malleability of "open," but also the ambiguity of the term "AI": "a grab bag of approaches, not… a technical term of art, but more … marketing and a signifier of aspirations." Hitching this vague term to "open" creates all kinds of bait-and-switch opportunities.

That's how you get Meta claiming that LLaMa2 is "open source," despite being licensed in a way that is absolutely incompatible with any widely accepted definition of the term:

https://blog.opensource.org/metas-llama-2-license-is-not-open-source/

LLaMa-2 is a particularly egregious openwashing example, but there are plenty of other ways that "open" is misleadingly applied to AI: sometimes it means you can see the source code, sometimes that you can see the training data, and sometimes that you can tune a model, all to different degrees, alone and in combination.

But even the most "open" systems can't be independently replicated, due to raw computing requirements. This isn't the fault of the AI industry – the computational intensity is a fact, not a choice – but when the AI industry claims that "open" will "democratize" AI, they are hiding the ball. People who hear these "democratization" claims (especially policymakers) are thinking about entrepreneurial kids in garages, but unless these kids have access to multi-billion-dollar data centers, they can't be "disruptors" who topple tech giants with cool new ideas. At best, they can hope to pay rent to those giants for access to their compute grids, in order to create products and services at the margin that rely on existing products, rather than displacing them.

The "open" story, with its claims of democratization, is an especially important one in the context of regulation. In Europe, where a variety of AI regulations have been proposed, the AI industry has co-opted the open source movement's hard-won narrative battles about the harms of ill-considered regulation.

For open source (and free software) advocates, many tech regulations aimed at taming large, abusive companies – such as requirements to surveil and control users to extinguish toxic behavior – wreak collateral damage on the free, open, user-centric systems that we see as superior alternatives to Big Tech. This leads to the paradoxical effect of passing regulation to "punish" Big Tech that end up simply shaving an infinitesimal percentage off the giants' profits, while destroying the small co-ops, nonprofits and startups before they can grow to be a viable alternative.

The years-long fight to get regulators to understand this risk has been waged by principled actors working for subsistence nonprofit wages or for free, and now the AI industry is capitalizing on lawmakers' hard-won consideration for collateral damage by claiming to be "open AI" and thus vulnerable to overbroad regulation.

But the "open" projects that lawmakers have been coached to value are precious because they deliver a level playing field, competition, innovation and democratization – all things that "open AI" fails to deliver. The regulations the AI industry is fighting also don't necessarily implicate the speech implications that are core to protecting free software:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2015/04/remembering-case-established-code-speech

Just think about LLaMa-2. You can download it for free, along with the model weights it relies on – but not detailed specs for the data that was used in its training. And the source-code is licensed under a homebrewed license cooked up by Meta's lawyers, a license that only glancingly resembles anything from the Open Source Definition:

https://opensource.org/osd/

Core to Big Tech companies' "open AI" offerings are tools, like Meta's PyTorch and Google's TensorFlow. These tools are indeed "open source," licensed under real OSS terms. But they are designed and maintained by the companies that sponsor them, and optimize for the proprietary back-ends each company offers in its own cloud. When programmers train themselves to develop in these environments, they are gaining expertise in adding value to a monopolist's ecosystem, locking themselves in with their own expertise. This a classic example of software freedom for tech giants and open source for the rest of us.

One way to understand how "open" can produce a lock-in that "free" might prevent is to think of Android: Android is an open platform in the sense that its sourcecode is freely licensed, but the existence of Android doesn't make it any easier to challenge the mobile OS duopoly with a new mobile OS; nor does it make it easier to switch from Android to iOS and vice versa.

Another example: MongoDB, a free/open database tool that was adopted by Amazon, which subsequently forked the codebase and tuning it to work on their proprietary cloud infrastructure.

The value of open tooling as a stickytrap for creating a pool of developers who end up as sharecroppers who are glued to a specific company's closed infrastructure is well-understood and openly acknowledged by "open AI" companies. Zuckerberg boasts about how PyTorch ropes developers into Meta's stack, "when there are opportunities to make integrations with products, [so] it’s much easier to make sure that developers and other folks are compatible with the things that we need in the way that our systems work."

Tooling is a relatively obscure issue, primarily debated by developers. A much broader debate has raged over training data – how it is acquired, labeled, sorted and used. Many of the biggest "open AI" companies are totally opaque when it comes to training data. Google and OpenAI won't even say how many pieces of data went into their models' training – let alone which data they used.

Other "open AI" companies use publicly available datasets like the Pile and CommonCrawl. But you can't replicate their models by shoveling these datasets into an algorithm. Each one has to be groomed – labeled, sorted, de-duplicated, and otherwise filtered. Many "open" models merge these datasets with other, proprietary sets, in varying (and secret) proportions.

Quality filtering and labeling for training data is incredibly expensive and labor-intensive, and involves some of the most exploitative and traumatizing clickwork in the world, as poorly paid workers in the Global South make pennies for reviewing data that includes graphic violence, rape, and gore.

Not only is the product of this "data pipeline" kept a secret by "open" companies, the very nature of the pipeline is likewise cloaked in mystery, in order to obscure the exploitative labor relations it embodies (the joke that "AI" stands for "absent Indians" comes out of the South Asian clickwork industry).

The most common "open" in "open AI" is a model that arrives built and trained, which is "open" in the sense that end-users can "fine-tune" it – usually while running it on the manufacturer's own proprietary cloud hardware, under that company's supervision and surveillance. These tunable models are undocumented blobs, not the rigorously peer-reviewed transparent tools celebrated by the open source movement.

If "open" was a way to transform "free software" from an ethical proposition to an efficient methodology for developing high-quality software; then "open AI" is a way to transform "open source" into a rent-extracting black box.

Some "open AI" has slipped out of the corporate silo. Meta's LLaMa was leaked by early testers, republished on 4chan, and is now in the wild. Some exciting stuff has emerged from this, but despite this work happening outside of Meta's control, it is not without benefits to Meta. As an infamous leaked Google memo explains:

Paradoxically, the one clear winner in all of this is Meta. Because the leaked model was theirs, they have effectively garnered an entire planet's worth of free labor. Since most open source innovation is happening on top of their architecture, there is nothing stopping them from directly incorporating it into their products.

https://www.searchenginejournal.com/leaked-google-memo-admits-defeat-by-open-source-ai/486290/

Thus, "open AI" is best understood as "as free product development" for large, well-capitalized AI companies, conducted by tinkerers who will not be able to escape these giants' proprietary compute silos and opaque training corpuses, and whose work product is guaranteed to be compatible with the giants' own systems.

The instrumental story about the virtues of "open" often invoke auditability: the fact that anyone can look at the source code makes it easier for bugs to be identified. But as open source projects have learned the hard way, the fact that anyone can audit your widely used, high-stakes code doesn't mean that anyone will.

The Heartbleed vulnerability in OpenSSL was a wake-up call for the open source movement – a bug that endangered every secure webserver connection in the world, which had hidden in plain sight for years. The result was an admirable and successful effort to build institutions whose job it is to actually make use of open source transparency to conduct regular, deep, systemic audits.

In other words, "open" is a necessary, but insufficient, precondition for auditing. But when the "open AI" movement touts its "safety" thanks to its "auditability," it fails to describe any steps it is taking to replicate these auditing institutions – how they'll be constituted, funded and directed. The story starts and ends with "transparency" and then makes the unjustifiable leap to "safety," without any intermediate steps about how the one will turn into the other.

It's a Magic Underpants Gnome story, in other words:

Step One: Transparency

Step Two: ??

Step Three: Safety

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5ih_TQWqCA

Meanwhile, OpenAI itself has gone on record as objecting to "burdensome mechanisms like licenses or audits" as an impediment to "innovation" – all the while arguing that these "burdensome mechanisms" should be mandatory for rival offerings that are more advanced than its own. To call this a "transparent ruse" is to do violence to good, hardworking transparent ruses all the world over:

https://openai.com/blog/governance-of-superintelligence

Some "open AI" is much more open than the industry dominating offerings. There's EleutherAI, a donor-supported nonprofit whose model comes with documentation and code, licensed Apache 2.0. There are also some smaller academic offerings: Vicuna (UCSD/CMU/Berkeley); Koala (Berkeley) and Alpaca (Stanford).

These are indeed more open (though Alpaca – which ran on a laptop – had to be withdrawn because it "hallucinated" so profusely). But to the extent that the "open AI" movement invokes (or cares about) these projects, it is in order to brandish them before hostile policymakers and say, "Won't someone please think of the academics?" These are the poster children for proposals like exempting AI from antitrust enforcement, but they're not significant players in the "open AI" industry, nor are they likely to be for so long as the largest companies are running the show:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4493900

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for "The Internet Con: How To Seize the Means of Computation," a Big Tech disassembly manual to disenshittify the web and make a new, good internet to succeed the old, good internet. It's a DRM-free book, which means Audible won't carry it, so this crowdfunder is essential. Back now to get the audio, Verso hardcover and ebook:

http://seizethemeansofcomputation.org

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/18/openwashing/#you-keep-using-that-word-i-do-not-think-it-means-what-you-think-it-means

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

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

[roseyreveries]

Far Away 20

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Muggle!Reader Previous Part <- click! Summary: You wake up inside the Harry Potter universe without any explanation as to why you're there. Disclaimer: All characters are being aged up for PLOT (1st years are 15, 7th years are 21) but characters may act immature and childish in the beginning at times to keep their character development. Not accurate to the books or movies. CW: pranks, bullying, an insane amount of sugar Directory <- click!

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The streets of Hogsmeade were alive with chatter and laughter as students milled about, darting between shops and dodging the occasional flurry of snowflakes. I stuck close to Lila, who was already rattling off a list of places she wanted to visit.

“We’ll hit Honeydukes first,” Lila said, adjusting her scarf as we passed a group of Gryffindors, “and then Zonko’s. Oh, and we’re definitely stopping at the Three Broomsticks. I need a butterbeer.”

I nodded, letting Lila lead the way, my eyes darting around to take in the sights. It was my first time in Hogsmeade, and the vibrant little village was a far cry from the castle’s dark, imposing halls. I couldn’t help but smile as we passed shop windows filled with magical trinkets and displays.

“Keep up, newbie!” Lila called, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward Honeydukes.

Inside Honeydukes, the air was warm and filled with the sweet, intoxicating smell of sugar and chocolate. Shelves were stacked high with candies of every shape and color, and students crowded around displays of Fizzing Whizzbees, Chocolate Frogs, and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“Alright,” Lila said, grabbing a handful of sugar quills. “What’s your poison?”

“Probably just a chocolate frog,” I said, reaching for one of the boxes. I barely had time to grab it before a loud pop erupted behind me, followed by a burst of glittering pink smoke.

“What the—?” I began, coughing as the smoke engulfed me.

Lila spun around, her expression twisting into a mixture of confusion and annoyance. “What is this?”

The pink smoke began to dissipate, and I realized my hands— and my face— were now covered in bright pink sparkles. Lila, standing beside me, had fared no better, her dark hair now shimmering with glitter that seemed to glow in the light.

“Who—?” Lila started, but her question was answered by a pair of identical grins from across the shop.

Fred and George Weasley stood near the entrance, clearly pleased with their handiwork. Fred leaned casually against the doorframe, while George gave an exaggerated bow.

“Apologies, ladies,” Fred said, his tone anything but apologetic. “Couldn’t resist.”

“You were such easy targets,” George added, his grin widening. “Practically begging for a little sparkle in your lives.”

Lila groaned, swiping at her glitter-covered hair. “Do you two ever grow up?”

“Not if we can help it,” Fred said, winking. “Life’s too short to be boring.”

“Or glitter-free,” George chimed in.

Lila muttered something under her breath about Gryffindors and stormed toward the counter, leaving me standing awkwardly amidst the aftermath of the prank. Fred’s eyes flicked toward me, his grin softening slightly.

“Sorry about that,” he said, his tone genuinely warm. “We didn’t mean to scare you.”

I laughed, brushing some of the glitter off my hands. “It’s fine. Honestly, I should’ve seen it coming.”

“That’s the spirit,” George said, giving me an approving nod. “Most people just yell at us.”

“Or threaten to hex us,” Fred added, glancing toward Lila. “Your friend looks like she’s considering it.”

“She might,” I admitted, grinning. “But she’ll get over it.”

Fred chuckled, stepping closer. “What’s your name, anyway? Don’t think I’ve seen you around much.”

“Y/n,” I said, offering my hand. “And you’re Fred, right?”

Fred shook my hand, his grip firm but playful. “The one and only. And this,” he added, gesturing to his twin, “is George.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, giving me a mock bow. “Always nice to meet someone who can take a joke.”

I smiled, brushing more glitter from my robes. “Well, you’ve got good aim, I’ll give you that.”

Fred’s grin widened. “You should see us in action at Zonko’s. Glitter bombs are just the beginning.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” I said, laughing softly.

“You should be,” George said, his tone mock-serious. “Fred’s got ideas that would make a professor faint.”

“Honestly, though,” Fred said, brushing some of the pink glitter from his own sleeve, “you handled that like a champ. Most people would be threatening hexes by now.”

“Not my style,” I said, laughing softly. “Though if you’re looking for someone who deserves a good hex, I’ve got a suggestion.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Let me guess,” George said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Tall, blond, and obnoxious?”

I blinked in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Because Malfoy is at the top of everyone’s ‘most annoying’ list,” George said with a smirk. “He’s like the poster child for spoiled brats.”

Fred’s grin widened. “Let me guess— he’s been making your life miserable?”

“Pretty much all year,” I admitted, crossing my arms. “He’s rude, arrogant, and can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.”

Fred exchanged a look with George, and something mischievous passed between them. “Well,” Fred said, his tone turning sly, “what if we helped you even the score?”

I hesitated, glancing between them. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing harmful,” George said quickly, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Just a little… humble pie.”

“A prank,” Fred clarified, his grin wicked. “One that Malfoy won’t see coming.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm. “I’m listening.”

Fred leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What’s his biggest weakness? Vanity? Pride?”

“Both,” I said without hesitation. “He’s obsessed with looking perfect and being the center of attention.”

“Perfect,” George said, rubbing his hands together. “We can work with that.”

Fred nodded, his mind clearly already spinning with ideas. “Alright, here’s what we’re thinking…”

Fred and George outlined their idea as I listened, my excitement growing. The plan was simple but brilliant: slip a harmless yet humiliating charm into one of Draco’s belongings— something subtle enough to go unnoticed until the perfect moment.

“A well-placed color-changing charm,” Fred explained, “on his precious hair. Imagine it going bright green right in the middle of lunch in The Three Broomsticks.”

I laughed, the thought of Draco’s horror at his ruined appearance lifting my spirits. “That’s… actually perfect.”

“And we’ve got just the thing,” Fred said, pulling a small vial from his pocket. “This charm activates with heat. So the moment he gets flustered or embarrassed? Bam. Green as a toad.”

My eyes sparkled with excitement. “I love it. How do we make sure it works?”

Fred and George exchanged a glance, their grins widening. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” George said. “We’ll handle the setup.”

“You just sit back and enjoy the show,” Fred added with a wink.

The twins, true to their word, worked their magic that same afternoon. With me acting as a lookout, they managed to sneak the charm onto Draco’s favorite scarf, which they’d spotted hanging neatly in the Slytherin cloakroom.

“It’ll take effect the moment he touches it,” Fred said as they slipped out of the cloakroom, their mission complete. “And with the weather outside, he’ll definitely be using it soon.”

I couldn’t hide her grin. “He’s going to lose his mind.”

“That’s the idea,” George said, laughing. “But remember— if anyone asks, you know nothing.”

“Not a thing,” Fred added, tapping the side of his nose. “We were never here.”

Later while sitting at a table in the Three Broomsticks with Lila, we spoke about our Honeydukes haul. I, however, couldn’t help but focus my attention on Draco.

He strolled into the hall with his usual air of superiority, his scarf draped elegantly over his shoulders. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as the warmth of the hall hit him, the charm activated.

Draco froze mid-step as his platinum blond hair turned a shocking shade of neon green. Gasps and laughter erupted across the diner as students turned to stare.

“What the—?” Draco’s hand shot to his hair, his eyes widening in horror as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a nearby goblet. “What is this?!”

Fred and George, also sitting at a nearby table, erupted into laughter, earning a glare from McGonagall. I bit my lip to keep from joining them, but my eyes sparkled with satisfaction.

“Who did this?!” Draco demanded, his voice rising as he spun around, glaring at the room. “This isn’t funny!”

“Actually, it’s hilarious,” Fred called out, earning another round of laughter.

Draco’s face turned bright red, making the green hair even more striking. He stormed out of the hall, muttering curses under his breath.

As the commotion died down, Fred caught my eye from across the hall, giving me a wink and a thumbs-up. I couldn’t help but grin, a sense of triumph swelling in my chest.

For the first time all year, it felt like I’d finally gotten the upper hand on Draco Malfoy— and it was all thanks to Fred and George.

Lila turns to look at me, her arms crossed and a brow raised.

“Alright, spill,” Lila said. “You were way too quiet during all of that. What did you do?”

I tried to feign innocence, but her wide grin gave her away. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Sure,” Lila said, rolling her eyes. “And I’m the Minister of Magic. Come on, I know you had something to do with Malfoy’s little… makeover.”

I hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Okay, fine. I might’ve had a little help from Fred and George.”

“Figures,” Lila muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. “Honestly, I should be mad that you didn’t include me, but… seeing Malfoy storm out like that? Worth it.”

I laughed as we began walking down the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade again, the cold air nipping at our cheeks. “You really think so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Lila said with a smirk. “He deserved it. Though I have to say, I’m impressed you got the Weasley twins to help. Those two are like chaos in human form.”

“They’re actually really fun,” I said, glancing at the shops we passed. “And they’re kind of brilliant, honestly.”

“Don’t get too starry-eyed over them,” Lila teased, bumping my shoulder. “One prank war with Malfoy doesn’t mean you’re joining their mischief empire.”

I rolled my eyes, though my grin lingered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We wandered into Honeydukes again, this time taking our time to browse through the rows of colorful candies. Lila grabbed a handful of Fizzing Whizzbees and a box of Ice Mice, while I picked up a Chocolate Frog and some Peppermint Toads.

“You know,” Lila said as we made our way to the counter, “it’s nice seeing you loosen up a bit. You’ve been so tense all year.”

“I wonder why,” I said dryly, though my tone was playful. “Between Malfoy and trying not to blow up my cauldron every other class…”

“Fair,” Lila said, laughing. “But seriously, you need to have more days like this. Forget about all the drama and just… have fun.”

I nodded, my expression softening. “You’re right. Today’s been nice.”

“Good,” Lila said firmly, handing over her coins to the shopkeeper. “Now let’s keep it that way. Where to next?”

We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring Hogsmeade, stopping by Zonko’s to marvel at the pranks (and avoid another glitter bomb) and ducking into the Three Broomsticks for a warm butterbeer. The cozy pub was packed with students, the air filled with chatter and the clinking of glasses.

“This is what Hogwarts should always be like,” Lila said, leaning back in her chair as she sipped her butterbeer. “No Malfoy, no exams, just good drinks and good company.”

I smiled, wrapping my hands around my mug. “Agreed.”

We stayed until the light outside began to fade, the golden glow of the sunset casting long shadows across the village.

“Alright,” Lila said, glancing toward the castle in the distance. “We’d better head back before someone realizes you’re responsible for Malfoy’s new look.”

I laughed, nodding as we began the trek back to Hogwarts.

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Read the next part here! Join my Taglist! @ferntv @Katie_kinz @malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy @rea-the-person @strbrrylmnadee @jazzywinter

[kitasgloves]

"Melting"

tracklist

— ♬ "Melting like an ice cream when you smile"

— ♬ Akaashi x Reader, timeskip, SFW, fluff, gen reader, neighbors to lovers, no beta

Moving into a new apartment complex marked a new journey in your life. A new journey means changes, and changes lead to adjustments, which truthfully you weren't a fan of. Somehow moving into your new place became a hassle, to be fair, you were doing all of the moving alone and you had a ton of stuff that held way too much sentimental value to get rid of. So, the first day felt like you were about to snap your spine in half.

"Three more boxes to go"

You groan as you settle a box in the living room. Sweat trickled down your face and your back as you went to fetch another of your boxes. As you reached to pick up the unsuspecting box, you didn't anticipate the weight it held that sent you almost stumbling back and losing your balance.

"Oof-"

Your body tilts backward with the box in hand when suddenly a pair of firm hands catch your shoulders, stopping you from falling. You momentarily freeze at the sensation of large hands keeping you in place.

"Are you okay?"

A deep but velvety voice sends your heart to a screeching halt. Your head whips around to be violently smacked in the face by the sheer beauty this stranger held. Gunmetal blue eyes, dark hair, thin-framed glasses, and a face sculpted by gods? Your breath hitches.

"Oh! I-uh..."

"Do you need help with your boxes?"

You were nearly about to decline until you bit your tongue and nodded to the handsome man. You stood there like an idiot gawking at this tall pretty guy carry two of your boxes inside your apartment without breaking a sweat. Oh, he must be packing under those layers of clothing. You shake your head hoping it will dust off the heat on your cheeks.

"Th-thank you for helping me out! I'm [Name] by the way"

"I'm Akaashi and you're welcome. Let me know if you need any more help"

He gives you a curt smile that makes your toes curl as you watch him retreat inside his apartment next to yours. Oh my god, this hot dude is your neighbor, talk about luck. When you enter back inside your place with tons of boxes to unload, that's when you begin to melt replaying the moment his hands held your shoulders.

Only weeks later your tiny crush on Akaashi developed further to full-on attraction that you're too shy to admit. Denial was futile not when he's so gorgeous and has a heart of gold. Akaashi makes you revert to a high school student giggling about their first crush. You're a grown adult yet you can't help but leave tiny notes on his mail whenever you pass by his door, like a student would to their crush's locker.

You are my church, you are my place of worship. I heard you're the plug, can I be the circuit?

When Akaashi finds this unusual note sticking out of his junk mail, he is perplexed. It was written in cursive and on pink paper...oh. He pauses. It almost resembles a deja vu moment. Nonetheless, it feels familiar and reminds him of when he was younger. Akaashi thinks if this note just happens to accidentally get mixed up with his mail. It was a possibility considering his name was not on the love note, or anybody's name for that matter. He scratches his head but discards the note under a stack of paperwork on his desk.

When I got court, I hope that you're the verdict. When you're around, my insides turn inverted

You delicately wrote on a piece of light pink paper with your fountain pen, it's been a while since you've written in cursive but you made an effort. You waited until the coast was clear as you snuck the folded note between Akaashi's daily stack of junk mail by his door before slipping off to leave and get groceries. Coincidentally, you meet him at the nearby supermarket. You go short-circuited when he offers you a smile and wave as you awkwardly return the gesture. God, you feel like melting again.

Take one look at you, you're heaven's incarnate. What is this spell, baby? Please show some mercy

Akaashi has been staring at this love note for thirty minutes already, unable to decipher what he felt. This was the third letter he had received and he had concluded that it wasn't accidental. Someone was intentionally sending him love notes. He tucks the note along with the others inside his favorite book and sits back. He feels like a high schooler contemplating their emotions after receiving their first confession in their locker. Akaashi has experienced this before and even politely rejected some of those love letters back in high school because romance wasn't a priority back then but now, he doesn't know what to do but wait until this secret admirer sends another note.

Melting like an ice cream when you smile. Melting, you're a daydream, stay a while

You're stuck in your apartment on a day of watching YouTube videos. Your search history was embarrassing. You recently snuck another note in Akaashi's mail and you're here praying you'll learn to be funny, so you're watching every stand-up comedy. You hoped that it'll at least rub off on you so Akaashi will smile at everything you say. You screamed against your hands, you truly felt like a frustrated teenager and hopelessly crushing on someone out of their league. But something in your heart tells you to persist or maybe you're delusional thinking your neighbor will return your feelings.

You got some soft lips and some pearly whites. I wanna touch them in the dead of night

For the first time, Akaashi smiles at the love note he has received. Albeit, small but visible. Something stirred in his chest that he had to double-take. He re-reads the note over and over again, he assumes that his secret admirer is a true romantic, and something about it makes his insides go fuzzy. He has zero clue about who could be giving him love notes, but god he wants to know.

Your smile ignites just like a candlelight. Then somehow, I know everything's alright

You wrote another letter and you were about to stick it in Akaashi's junk mail as always when you almost got caught. Thankfully, you slip the note in your pocket when Akaashi goes to pick up his mail, you pout, and you realize you're a second late to sneak your note. Your neighbor notices you and waves.

"Hi, [Name]"

"Hey, Akaashi"

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

He asks you as you nod, curiosity burning through your eyes. Akaashi invites you into his apartment and stores away his mail. Your heart stops when he shows you the oh-so-familiar pink note, and your flight or fight instincts almost go off. But you stiffy sat there, hoping your oblivious facade wouldn't give anything away.

"So, I've been getting these love notes for five days straight and I don't have the faintest idea who could be giving me these"

Akaashi shows you the love notes you've been anonymously giving him and you pretend to inspect them while deep in thought.

"Hm, it could be one of our neighbors"

"I'm not close with anyone besides you, [Name]"

"Oh"

God, you hope the blush won't be evident on your face. You pretend to cough on your hand to cover your face as you try to make up an excuse to leave because you have no idea how long you'll last without crumbling in front of Akaashi.

"I'll let you know if I find someone suspicious"

"Okay"

Akaashi watches you leave his apartment, seemingly in a rush. He sighed and was about to sit back in his office when he noticed a folded pink piece of paper left on his couch, right where you sat. He holds his breath picks up the note and unfolds it to reveal the same cursive handwriting to his secret admirer. His mouth goes agape. He didn't want to jump to conclusions but if he were right and you were his secret admirer, he wouldn't be more glad.

"Shit! Where's the note?!"

You searched all your pockets to find the note you previously wrote for Akaashi but never got to drop it off missing. Then your sweat turns cold, did it slip from your pocket and land on Akaashi's couch? There is no way. You grabbed a nearby pillow and screamed against it. You were beyond mortified. That's it, you're moving places again, probably in another country. Preferably while also changing your clothes, your hair, your face, and your name. It was impossible to look Akaashi in the eye anymore once he found that note and discovered you're his secret admirer, you doubt the guy has feelings for you in the first place.

You hugged your pillow and frowned, you shouldn't have done that. When you're about to sulk in your room and play some sad music to help you make you feel even more pathetic, a knock on your door interrupts you. Your stomach drops, you know it is Akaashi. Great, just fucking great. Maybe you should jump out of your window and escape? Or maybe just ignore him until he goes away? Or maybe just face him like a grown adult. You sighed and swallowed your fear as you dragged your feet towards the door.

Astoundingly, Akaashi was standing at your doorstep with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You let out a silent gasp. Your neighbor was giving you a smile that never fails to make you melt.

"[Name]"

"Akaashi, what's...what's this about?"

"I know about the notes, I know it was you"

"Oh. But why give me [Favorite flowers]?"

"Because I want to give it a shot. I want to let you know that you also make me melt like ice cream when you smile"

Hold up, could someone pinch you awake holy shit this feels so surreal. You stumble over your words before ultimately letting out a laugh, there was no way that your delusions came true and that you have an actual fucking shot with Akaashi Keiji. He stands there patiently, waiting for your answer.

"Are...are you for real?"

"I wouldn't have gotten to know you and what flowers you liked if I didn't like you"

"Holy shit, yes!"

You squeal as you go over to hug Akaashi, almost knocking the bouquet out of his hands. He laughs and holds you securely in his arms while his heart pounded wildly against his ribcage. When you both pull away and he sees that perfect smile of yours he never gets tired of seeing every day, he feels beyond ecstatic, fuzzy, and most of all, he feels melting like ice cream.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[scotianostra]

On September 17th 1854 David Dunbar Buick was born at 26 Green Street, Arbroath.

You might recognise the name Buick, and yes he is the man behind the famous car manufacturer. The iconic brand Buick motors have the distinction of being the oldest American brand of what the yanks call automobiles, but Scotland has the honour of being home to its founder.

Like the founding titans of American industry before him, David Buick travelled to America with his family as an infant. After leaving school, he took work manufacturing plumbing equipment, but before long he was showing an aptitude for innovation, including an early lawn sprinkler and a cost-effective means for enamelling cast iron bathtubs.

It was in the 1890s when Buick began showing interest in the motoring world. He had a particular interest in combustion engines – so much so that he all-but-ignored the plumbing business, ending with the eventual dissolving of the company. In 1899, the Scot set up Buick Auto-Vim and Power Company in Detroit, Michigan, selling combustion engines in the hope of revolutionising agriculture.

Over the next three years, he set his sights on producing a complete vehicle, draining his resources while generating no return and the finished car, created with chief engineer Walter Marr. He was out of money and a single car to show for his work. Despite the immeasurable odds being stacked against him, he founded Buick Motor Company in early 1902 and immediately set to work developing a revolutionary ‘valve-in-head’ overhead valve engine.

Today’s overhead cam engines are all generally derived from David Dunbar Buick’s innovative designs. By 1906, Buick’s frivolity had caught up with him. He was awarded a severance package from the company he had helped build and left with only one share in the firm. Buick Motor Company’s president, William C. Durrant – former General Manager and Buick’s chief investor – purchased his share for $100,000, equal to $2.7million today.

For those left in any doubt about Buick’s significant role in the history of motoring, his life’s work would later become the foundation on which General Motors was established. The Scot unsuccessfully revisited the automotive industry in 1921 with Lorraine Motors, but was almost completely broke by 1928 and in 1929 he died from cancer, aged 74. David Dunbar Buick was ushered into the Automotive Hall of Fame in 1974 for his contribution to the fledgling industry in the late 19th Century.

At the turn of the millennium, over 35,000,000 motor cars had been built in his name, which will never be lost to history.

The statue in the pic was unveiled in Michigan, another was planned for Arbroath as far back as 2018, but as yet so far it has not been erected.

[mitigatedchaos]

The online Twitter/X right are having a big intra-coalition battle right now over skilled immigration.

I'll just lay out something briefly here:

H1b immigration has a bad reputation because it's based on a lottery system in which corporations are supposed to "prove" they can't hire someone in the United States. Apparently, if they get fired, they could be deported.

It's not that hard to write a fake job listing that excludes all American applicants, and then make an "exception" for a foreigner, especially if no one is actually rigorously enforcing that the foreigners match the listings.

Corporations have incentive to juice the listings to get low-leverage employees that they can underpay and overwork. People claim that consultancy firms stack engineers in India in order to max out their lottery entries.

This is dumb. H1b seats should just be sold at auction.

There is a political legitimacy or public relations problem for this guest worker program in that Americans think it's just about suppressing wages. If every corporation pays an additional $30,000 a year in cash, that they would not have had to pay by hiring an American worker, this helps to demonstrate that the labor supply is tight in that sector, and incentivize corporations to do local talent development.

It also means that there is no need to create a fake listing to exclude Americans. Just pay the money at auction and you're set.

There is an allocation problem in that allocating a labor pool to companies by lottery is unpredictable and random, and likely to allocate labor poorly. If every corporation has to bid at auction, they'll have a good idea of what the price is from last year, which means they can be confident that they'll get the seat.

Additionally, a higher payment suggests that a company has more productive work available, so they should be the ones to get the seat, rather than the group that files more lottery entries.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hello! Early 20s female ESFP here with a question about ego development. I’ve spent the entirety of my teenage/adult life vacillating between level 1 and 2 and I’ve never managed to make it to level 3. My question is whether it’s possible to reach level 4 without ever going through level 3, or whether I need to go through level 3 first - and if I do need to go through level 3, how does that work exactly? What characteristics or abilities will I develop in level 3 which are necessary to progress to level 4? Is it harmful for me to attempt to reach level 4 now? Or should I just forget about stages of ego development and instead focus on developing my dominant and auxiliary functions?

If it’s relevant, the reason for my delayed ego development is trauma and mental illness, but I’ve had a lot of therapy and been prescribed medication so I think I’m stable enough for self-improvement.

Thanks so much for your blog btw, it helped me realise the root of my problems (Fi resistance, Te loop and Ni grip) and start taking steps to improve myself!

---------------

I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don't think you're asking the right questions. I dislike questions that start with "is it possible..." because they often end up being too theoretical to be useful. So what if it is theoretically possible? This does nothing to answer the question of whether it is possible for YOU, given the particulars of your case.

You haven't provided enough concrete details of your case for me to draw any firm conclusions. You haven't described what these "levels" actually look like in your mind or how exactly your loop/grip behaviors manifest. Without this information, all I can do is speculate wildly about what's really going on with you.

I won't speculate but explain what needs to be done in a nutshell:

I wouldn't say forget about ego development and just focus on functions, because, ideally, the two ought to go hand-in-hand. Any kind of weirdness in one or the other is a flashing sign to you that something is not right, and you have to take those signs and use them to spur improvement.

For example, an inexplicable desire to "skip" an ego level is often an unconscious extension of unhealthy tertiary loop behavior. It means your underlying intentions aren't coming from the right place, which could lead your type development astray.

Applying this to your type, if you truly want to understand what level 3 ego development is about, you MUST develop healthy use of Fi. Without healthy Fi, aiming for level 4 is very, very likely to reactivate and even worsen Te loop. Correspondingly, wanting to skip over level 3 is likely to be an unconscious manifestation of Fi resistance.

It is very important to develop healthy use of your functions in the correct order of your functional stack. And if you happen to be on the wrong track, there will be signs that are reflected through ego development problems. At that point, you know you need to change your way of thinking or your method of approach.

As nice as it would be, personal growth isn't a straight line. There will be plenty of confusion, conflict, setbacks, obstacles, and failures along the way. The key point is whether you can be honest about what you're really doing and why (cultivate self-awareness), and then correct course as necessary.

If you can be honest with yourself, Se+Fi will ultimately lead you to a good place. Discover the things you love and devote yourself to them. Make sure your time is well spent producing tangible good for yourself and others. The rest will then fall into place naturally.

[rock-and-compass]

Precursor - I wrote about the fifth season of Angel many years ago - probably around the time that the season 8 comics were first being published. I originally published these meta essays over on LiveJournal and I've decided to re-post them (as written), mostly for archival reasons. I love season 5 of Angel. It's such a shame it got axed before it could get the envisioned 6th and 7th series

Episode 5.4 - Hell Bound

To say that someone is ‘Hell bound’ generally means that a person is on course to end up in hell, because of things they’ve done and choices they’ve made. So if someone is heading in the downward direction to hell can they change course midway and not go there after all? Is there any chance of a reprieve?  Is there any point in trying to change course? These are the lofty questions asked throughout this episode of Angel. Hell Bound employs the concept of ‘Hell’ as a place of eternal punishment to invite exploration of the concept of redemption from new angles.  

From the opening scene, we can assume that some time has passed since the events of Unleashed. Fred is much more knowledgeable about Spike’s ‘condition’. She knows there has been a slight drop in his radiant heat signature without referring to previous figures, suggesting an in-depth, cultivated knowledge of him that’s becoming almost second nature. This is her problem and she’s working it, testing ideas and developing theories and looking for solutions. She has an obvious passion for her work, for this particular task.  Fred and Spike have a nice chemistry. Despite the mild flirtation (on Spike’s part) they have a brother-sister type of relationship that is reminiscent of a beguiling toddler charming what they want out of their attendant adults. He has the utmost faith in her abilities and she has belief that she’s doing the right thing. When she tells Spike she’s getting close to a solution, he asks “to make me a real boy again?” Fred replies:

Fred: As real as a vampire with a soul can be. It won't be like Angel's thing with the prophecy, but...

Spike: What prophecy?

Fred: The Shan-shoe-ha something or 'nother; says that if Angel helps enough people, he gets to be human again.

Spike: Oh. Really; Goody for him  

So Spike finds out about the Shanshu Prophecy. As yet he has no idea that he may be implicated as a possible candidate for the prophecy about the vampire with a soul. At the moment it’s just one more thing that Angel gets, one more reward on, what Spike thinks, is an already enviable stack. But he doesn’t dwell on it. He’s not there seething with wrath and indignation that Angel’s the chosen one. It means nothing to him so when the topic moves on, so does he.  Suddenly, just as Fred is offering a smidgeon of hope that she might be onto a cure for his condition, he falls through the floor and finds himself in the basement of Wolfram and Hart. Here he encounters a man sitting at a table slicing his own fingers off. The man is gone in a blink of an eye leaving Spike seriously spooked. Not an easy thing to do to a vampire.

Fred goes to Wes and requests some very particular, hard to locate items that she needs for her re-corporealisation plan. Wesley tells her he can get them in a very short time providing a neat contrast to the way they used to operate, the efforts they used to have to go to track down an object, an artefact, an ingredient. Guess there are some perks working for an evil multidimensional law firm after all. But what’s really on show here is Wesley’s care, concern and quiet passion for Fred. They are all working hard, ridiculous long hours but in the midst of it all Wes has noticed that she looks tired and is not eating properly. He’s still connected to the ‘family’ unit; she is still his first priority. A direct contrast is provided in the next scene. Angel, despite his efforts in ‘Unleashed’ is not really connected to anyone. He hasn’t noticed Fred’s lack of sleep, under-nourishment or even her excellent work output. He seems embarrassed that she jumps to the conclusion that their meeting is about her personal welfare:

Fred: It's OK. Wes just gave me the talk. And I'm going to have a good meal and at least 6 hours of sleep, so everybody can just stop worrying. I'm fine. Really.

Angel: Good. That's…  Actually, there's some concern about how much the Practical Science Department's been spending

Because this is all about business not personal concern. We learn just how much time, effort and money Fred has put into helping Spike. Eight hundred grands worth, that’s how much. Angel is stunned. Why on earth would she spend all that money on Spike, of all people? Helping the helpless is one thing but…Spike? And especially not when it affects the bottom line so severely! Fred, in her typically spirited style defends her actions:

Fred: Angel... We accepted the offer to take over the L.A. Branch of an evil, multi-dimensional law firm because we thought we could make a difference. Use the resources of Wolfram & Hart to do something decent.

Angel: And how does that have anything to do with Spike?

Fred: He just saved the world; Vampire with a soul fighting for the good of humanity. Ring anything? He's just like you, a champion.

Angel: God, I really hate that word.

Fred: Think of what an asset he'd be fighting on our side. 

Angel disputes the suggestion that Spike would stick around that long:

Angel: Except he won't be. I know Spike better than anyone, and he only cares about himself.

But is this really true? Does Angel know Spike better than anyone? Buffy might disagree. Angel knew Spike, but Angel hasn’t known Spike for a long time, certainly not in the past four years when he’s changed and grown so dramatically.  And even when he did know him it was a master/protégée, hierarchically bound relationship in which Spike would have performed to impress and given prominence to characteristics esteemed by Angelus. When Angel says that Spike only cares about himself then he must be being deliberately obtuse. Angel knows this isn’t true. He lived with Spike and Drusilla for twenty years. He knew that Spike’s devotion to her was very real and he also knows that Spike, only recently, gave his life to save the world. Fred calls him on the statement using the most obvious argument:

“And Buffy”

Causing Angel to concede:

Angel: You're right. He does care about Buffy. So, where do you think he's gonna run off to as soon as his fresh, new feet hit the ground?

Fred: Is that what this is about? You're afraid he's gonna come back and try to get with your ex again?

But Angel doesn’t answer the question. He deflects it with a warning for Fred to watch out for Spike’s lethal charm. So . . . is this what Angel is afraid of; Spike running off to Buffy? Or perhaps it’s Buffy welcoming his return that he’s really worried about? So what does Angel want here? For Spike to stay a ghost but not be attached to Wolfram and Hart and himself? Why would Spike going back to Buffy bother him so much anyway? It hasn’t been of concern to him up until this point. Or is it purely because he doesn’t see Fred’s investment as prudent? Fred reminds him of their mission by saying, “It’s about doing what’s right. Remember?” Angel leaves it up to Fred but tells her not to be disappointed, and points out, “Some people can’t be saved.”

Whoa that’s a definitive type statement. What does he mean? Who can’t be saved? Spike - seems that Spike has been doing a pretty decent job of saving himself up until this ghostly bump in his redemptive journey actually. Or is Angel talking about himself? Is it that Angel, looking at himself and all he’s done and tried to do and everything that he’s lost has caused him to wonder at the futility of it all? That it all means nothing so, ultimately, he can’t be saved? Angel is beginning to doubt – himself, his purpose and the Shanshu.   

Spike goes looking for Fred but ends up getting seriously spooked by whatever it is that’s trying to spook him. He goes to Angel’s apartment, just to hang. Company is a very effective antidote to fear and who better to seek the company of the old Grand-sire. Angel assumes that Spike’s visit is prompted by his conscious talking to him, plaguing him; that he can feel how close he is to hell. Angel just can’t comprehend a soul that doesn’t come with a hundred years of guilt-laden torment. And to Spike’s chagrin, it seems like the old bastard might just be right. But rather than explain, Spike goes on the defensive, bravado in full swing:

Spike: What if I am? Not like it's such a big, bleeding deal, is it? If a ponce like you could break out—

Can’t show weakness and fear in front of the old man now, can we? Then they come to the Shanshu. Spike reveals to Angel that he knows about the Big Reward and tells him to stop acting like a martyr. But Angel disputes this saying that the prophecy is rubbish and that he no longer believes it.

Angel:  You think any of it matters? The things we did? The lives we destroyed. That's all that's ever gonna count. So, yeah, surprise. You're going to hell. We both are. 

Angel has no hope. No passion. No will to be doing what he does. Hope went out the door with Cordelia and Connor. Spike asks, “Then why bother?” And rightly so; if there’s no hope of redemption then what’s the point of even trying? Why not go out on a blood bender, kill every blond girl in every dark alley and feel none the worse for the experience. There is no point in trying to do the right thing if you’re just going to be condemned anyway.

“What else are we gonna do?” Angel replies.

Doing right isn’t a passion anymore. It isn’t even a means to an end. It’s just the alternative to being evil. It doesn’t weigh as heavy on the soul. Angel really is depressed and it’s interesting that it’s Spike to whom he reveals this. As much as he dislikes the guy, he’s the only one who can truly comprehend and identify with Angel’s feelings. It’s also interesting that Spike seems to accept this dismal forecast for their future, at least temporarily. But Spike’s already adapting, looking for the bright side, positioning him and Angel together:

Spike: Least I got company, eh? You and me,  together again. Hope and Crosby. Stills and Nash. Chico and the—

Angel: Yeah, are we done?

Angel is less than thrilled with the idea of an eternity with Spike. And they share a moment pointing out what they don’t like about the other finishing with:

Spike: Never much cared for you, Liam, even when we were evil.

Angel: Cared for you less.

Spike: Fine.

Angel: Good. . . There was one thing about you...

Spike: Really?

Angel: Yeah, I never told anybody about this, but I—I liked your poems.

Spike: You like Barry Manilow!

Spike uses Angel’s human name to get his attention, to claim intimacy, maybe even to flatter. And it works, because, to Spike and the audience’s amazement, Angel throws him a bone; he complements Spike’s poetry, something innately connected to the human William. It’s not much of a complement, because Angel’s artistic appreciation is, well , questionable, but still…

So that’s quite disturbing really, that Angel thinks there’s no hope for either of them; that regardless of what they do that they are still irrefutably Hell-bound, shackled to hell, no escape, no amends, no penance . . . no redemption. No matter what they do they’ll always be damned. 

God, no wonder Angel’s depressed.

Angel’s journey to redemption has been long and hard and his chosen route has been to make amends. It is by no coincidence that the episode of Buffy in which he really begins to question his purpose is also titled ‘Amends’. To earn redemption Angel has made a conscious effort to ‘make up’ for the past by doing good things in compensation for the evil things he’s done, he’s offered restitution, tried to balance the scales. That’s why the Shanshu prophecy means so much to him. It is like a light at the end of the tunnel, it’s hope that when he’s suffered enough, saved enough people, that his past will be expunged clean and he’ll get to be human again. He’ll be forgiven. The scales will be balanced and he’ll have proof positive that he is a good man. The trouble with amends is that it’s easy to become confused with what you are doing and why you are doing it. Is it the reward you seek, the end result or does each individual event carry unique significance and are victories unto themselves? Over the course of five seasons we’ve seen Angel struggle with this exact ambiguity. In Judgement, Angel is seen keeping a tally of clients and missions demonstrating his keenness to fulfil the prophecy and that he’s clearly motivated by the possible end result. But by Epiphany he’s learnt that:

If there is no great glorious end to all this, if nothing we do matters, then all that matters is what we do. 'cause that's all there is. What we do, now, today. - I fought for so long. For redemption, for a reward, finally just to beat the other guy, but... I never got it…

And Angel never really does get it. He continues to wrestle with redemption and how to gain it throughout the entire series. He tries to fight because it’s the right thing to do but the promise of reward is always in the back of his mind making his ultimate motivation debatable even if only to himself. To add insult to injury, he gets used and abused by those he’s trying to help, making him question why he even does it.  Like most of us, Angel fights best when there is a personal stake involved and when he gives up Connor and loses Cordelia he loses the two things in the world that make him truly care. Generic caring for others gets wearying and makes the loss of hope and will inevitable.  Doing the right thing, being a champion, becomes nothing more than a job. 

The other troublesome aspect of ‘making amends’ is that it becomes all too easy to excuse yourself from doing the right thing ‘just this once’. Hey, you can always balance the scales later, right? Making amends is about external acts not internal motivators. That’s why Angel can justify playing the role of judge, jury and executioner at times. If he can rationalise an act as righteous then it doesn’t have to weigh on his soul so he doesn’t have to add it to the long to-do list of amendments he must accomplish, yet it makes his efforts all the more murky.   

Spike has taken quite a different route on his journey to redemption. This is perhaps because it started prior to actually getting his soul. Way back in the Buffy season five episode ‘Crush’, Spike observes to Dawn:

Doesn't seem to me it matters very much how you start out…

…It’s how you finish up, what you do in the now that matters. He understood and for the most part, adhered to the same concept that Angel wrestled with in Epiphany and used it as his orientation to seek redemption. Redemption in this circumstance meaning:

“The improved state of somebody or something saved from apparently irreversible decline”

While without a soul he was able to alter his behaviour significantly motivated by his love for Buffy and a genuine desire to be useful to her (with a couple of notable slip-ups; see As You Were and Seeing Red for example.) Once he got his soul back however, it allowed him to feel penitent, to feel the weight of his past deeds and to be genuinely sorry without them becoming a burden or an anchor tying him to unproductive infinite remorse. Yes, it’s necessary to be sorry for past actions, but that regret must also inform and influence ongoing behavioural decisions. 

Buffy: You're alive because I saw you change; because I saw your penance. Spike: Window dressing.Buffy: Be easier, wouldn't it, it if were an act, but it's not. You faced the monster inside of you and you fought back. You risked everything to be a better man.Spike: Buffy...Buffy: And you can be. You are. You may not see it, but I do. I do. I believe in you, Spike.

Spike’s lucky, he had Buffy to prod him along, not let him give up; inspire him to be the ‘good man’ he wanted to be, but he is not relying on outside forces to determine his worth. The past happened and he can’t change it. So now, his will is simply to be good, to do good deeds and not be the monster he was before. As long as he continues to do this, then he is, in essence, already redeemed. 

But back to Spike and Angel sitting on the couch; Spike spoils the friendly mood when he starts to see ghosts. Angel can’t see them but calls in the rest of the team to assist. Spike is agitated and undeniably freaked. He disappears from view, though he soon works out that he can still see them but they can’t see or hear him. He tries unsuccessfully to get Fred’s attention:

Male Voice: She can't help you now, William. No one can. 

William; again with the Christian names! But it got his attention all right. Spike has another encounter in the basement; the ghost uses his name and shows she knows him and tells him “the Reaper” is coming for him. Spike high-tails it back to Fred’s lab and tells her, even though she can’t hear, that the end is nigh, no avoiding it now and he thanks her very nicely for all she’s done to try and help him.  Fred thinks she has the answer but alas, that idea would ‘liquefy half of L.A.” She begins to become despondent and self-defeating. He pleads with her not to give up. He has faith in her genius. He reaches out to touch Fred, instinctual habit, but instead of moving through her flesh, his touch creates a spark of electricity. Fred feels it and knows its Spike. For Spike, the connection is proof that he doesn’t deserve to be taken, not yet, not today.

The team calls in a mystic to try and communicate with Spike. She contacts “the dark soul” who brings pain and suffering. The dark soul begins to choke the mystic and Angel, betraying his complete lack of faith in Spike, jumps to the conclusion that he is responsible. The Mystic is killed, blood splattering all over Fred, causing her to beat a hasty retreat to the shower. Wesley realises that it is highly unlikely that Spike is responsible as why would he kill someone who is trying to help and so he gets the team researching other likely candidates for the ‘dark soul’ title. Meanwhile, Spike, displaying admirably quick mental capacities, works out what’s going on and who’s responsible. He discovers that if he concentrates real hard he can actually touch things enabling him to write the word ‘Reaper’ on the steamed up glass of Fred’s shower.

So Team Angel, using Spike’s information is able to discover that ‘the Reaper’ is Matthias Pavayne, crazed doctor, evil murderer, practitioner of the dark arts on whose sacrificial blood the Wolfram and Hart L.A. office is built. Fred, determined to save Spike and worry about Pavayne later, works on complicated mathematical equations and fine tunes her re-corporealisation device. She needs a massive boost of black magic to get the reaction required to take place. Gunn and Angel go to the White room to talk to the conduit to see if the big cat will donate to the cause. They return with the element and now, all they need is Spike.

Pavayne toys with Spike mercilessly. He taunts and teases. He tells Spike that it is his soul that condemns him to suffer forever, that there’s no escape. But, silly, silly Reaper, he also lets slip the rules to the game. 

Pavayne: ...all rules are mine. Reality bends. My desire. The way it was meant to...

Spike: Bending reality? I didn't just fade away. It was you. That's why they can't see me anymore.

Pavayne: Parlour tricks. To amuse... like your blood. Oh, yes, nothing here without the will. 

Spike once told Buffy that he was not a quick study but this is yet another example to contradict his negative self judgement:

Pavayne: Yes, squirm, boy. It won't make a difference. Getting what you deserve. 

Spike: You're right. I do deserve to go to hell, but not today. (Spike punches and connects with Pavayne)

Pavayne: You dare!

Spike: Quite a bit, mate. Reality bends to desire. That was it, right? That's why I could touch Fred, write your name in the glass. All I had to do was want it bad enough. And guess what I want to do now, you prissy son of a bitch!

You see, Spike has to believe in redemption. He may deserve hell, but it doesn’t mean he has to go there. He’s got hope; he’s got will. He’s lived redemption, he’s doing it, he’s working on it. To accept that Hell is inevitable, and is his “destiny”, would be a contradiction to everything that he is. Want it? Want it badly enough? Then make it happen. As the saying goes, God helps those who help themselves. He’s got the soul to prove it. Reality can be bent, altered, changed all right; we shape the world in which we live simply by being in it. 

Spike is able to engage Pavayne in battle now that he knows the rules but Pavayne is God in this world of ghosts. He knows more tricks, he’s stronger. He has Spike on the ropes, damnation beckoning but Spike is able to get away to Fred’s lab causing Pavayne to follow. Fred tells Spike to step into the circle so they can activate the device and re-corporealise him. Pavayne begins to strangle Fred, making Spike have to choose between his own solidity and Fred’s life.

The decision is a no brainer.

Spike knocks Pavayne into the device, re-corporalising him thereby saving Fred and stopping his reign of terror at the same time.  

Fred is disappointed at the failure but Spike is actually very philosophical; he’s happy with the choice he made, wouldn’t change it for the world. There’s good company, he’s picked up a few new tricks (and demonstrates lifting a coffee mug). There are worse things than being a ghost. Confirming to Fred that it’s just as she’s been saying all along, he is worth saving. Pavayne, however, is locked up in a box, alive but in a suspended state. Pavayne will not be able to move, touch, feel or affect anything. Forever.

Welcome to Hell.

Next up: Angel 5.5 - Life of the Party

[saifuv]

How a Full Stack Java Course in Pune Can Boost Your Job Prospects in 2025?

In today's fast-paced tech world, learning a versatile and powerful skillset is more important than ever especially if you're eyeing a career in software development. Nowhere is this truer than in Pune, one of India’s most flourishing IT hubs. A Full Stack Java course in Pune doesn’t just teach you how to code; it positions you as an elite problem-solver, making your resume stand out in 2025’s increasingly competitive job market. Let’s explore how!

1. Why Full Stack Java Still Dominates?

Java has stood the test of time. More than two decades after its inception, it remains a foundational technology in enterprise ecosystems:

Rich Ecosystem: With a mature set of frameworks (Spring, Hibernate), tools, and libraries, Java is everywhere—from banking systems to e-commerce behemoths.

Relevance in 2025: Even with modern languages popping up left and right, Java’s reliability, backward compatibility, and cross-platform support keep it indispensable.

Extensive Community & Resources: You're never learning alone—there’s a deep community backing you, which means readily available solutions to common challenges.

A Full Stack course doesn't just teach Java backend development; it covers databases, servers, APIs, front-end technologies everything you need to build a complete software application from scratch.

2. Pune: A Strategic Learning Ground

Thriving Industry Base Pune hosts global IT giants (like Infosys, TCS, IBM) and a myriad of mid-sized and start-up tech firms. That translates to tons of hiring and internship opportunities.

Vibrant Developer Community From Java User Group meetups to hackathons, Pune’s tech crowd is incredibly active. Networking, knowledge-sharing, and learning from peers are part of daily life here.

Access to Quality Training Pune offers a variety of dedicated institutes and online-blended courses that focus not just on coding but also on mentorship, project work, and placement training.

3. What You’ll Learn (And Why It Matters)

A full stack Java course in Pune typically covers:

Core Java Fundamentals Understanding OOP, data structures, multithreading, and collections—all essential for building scalable, robust applications.

Backend Development (Spring Boot, Hibernate) Learn to build secure, high-performing APIs, manage databases efficiently, and integrate with front-end and microservices.

Front-End Basics (HTML, CSS, JavaScript, Angular/React) Gain competence in building responsive user interfaces and creating seamless user experiences.

Database Management & Design MySQL, PostgreSQL, or MongoDB—learn how to design schemas, write optimized queries, and structure data for real-world apps.

DevOps & Cloud Fundamentals A sprinkle of AWS or Azure knowledge, along with CI/CD pipelines so you can deploy and maintain applications professionally.

Hands-On Projects From to-do apps to e-commerce platforms, working on real-world projects allows you to showcase tangible proof of skills on GitHub and your portfolio.

Each of these areas equips you with tools to solve real-world business problems and that's exactly what employers in 2025 want.

4. Placement Focus: Getting You Hired

A big differentiator of Pune’s top courses? They aren’t just about technical skill—they’re about preparing you for the job market.

Mock Interviews & Resume Workshops Practice coding challenges, whiteboard problems, and behavioral interview questions. Plus, get help tailoring your resume to highlight Java, full stack projects, and project outcomes.

Industry Connections Good institutes bring in local hiring partners, host tech talks, invite alumni, and run demo days. These openings often lead directly to internships and full-time offers.

Career Mentorship One-on-one mentorship is common—so you’re not just told what to learn, you get guided through pitfalls, interview prep, culture fit, and thoughtful career choices.

In 2025, employers seek not just coders—but developers who can see a project from concept to deployment—and that is precisely what Pune’s full stack Java courses train you to be.

5. Emerging Job Prospects in 2025

From fintech to cloud computing, here’s how markets are looking:

Fintech & Banking Java runs the backend of most core banking and payment systems. Full stack Java developers are needed to build interfaces, dashboards, APIs, and integrations.

E-commerce & Retail Tech Platforms need robust APIs, databases, microservices, and slick front-ends—full stack developers can bridge all layers.

Enterprise SaaS & Cloud Services The shift to microservices and cloud is huge—and Java plays a key role in backend services, containerization (Docker, Kubernetes), and scalable APIs.

Emerging Tech (AI/ML, IoT, Blockchain) Java excels at handling large, distributed systems. Your full stack skills let you integrate ML models or IoT devices with web dashboards.

6. What Companies Look For?

In short, employers in especially in 2025 are screening for:

Technical depth: Proficiency in Java, backend frameworks, REST APIs, databases, and at least one front-end framework.

Connected-thinking: End-to-end understanding—how client requests go from browser, through your API, across services, to the database, and back.

Clean coding & documentation: You need to know version control, writing modular and testable code, and collaborate across teams.

Cloud & DevOps awareness: It’s no longer optional; even at small firms, developers are expected to deploy, monitor, and secure their apps.

A full stack Java course in Pune is designed to help you develop exactly these job-ready competencies.

7. How to Choose the Right Course in Pune?

Here are some tips to consider:

Curriculum must be current (2025-ready) It should include Spring Boot, Angular/React 18+, Docker, and cloud fundamentals.

Look for live project work Building two to three apps in the course gives you a strong portfolio.

Strong placement record Ask alumni and check LinkedIn to confirm where graduates end up.

Flexible format If you're working, or coming from college, you’ll need evening or weekend batches with recorded lectures.

Support systems Dedicated mentors, career services, coding pads, peer groups—they make a big difference when you hit roadblocks or prepping for interviews.

8. Final Takeaways for 2025

Demand is real: Organizations still rely on Java for enterprise reliability and need full stack developers who can deliver end-to-end solutions.

Pune offers opportunity: You get quality teaching, real projects, and direct paths into local tech companies.

Your commitment matters: Want top jobs? Build apps, network, engage in communities, and demonstrate end-to-end thinking.

Course ROI is high: With the right course, you’ll accelerate your development career.

So as you think ahead to 2025, a Full Stack Java Course in Pune isn’t just another training program. It’s a launchpad a way to transform your career, sharpen your skills, and seize opportunities from fintech to SaaS and beyond. Ready to get started?

[saifawaisi3211]

Looking for an Expert App Developer in Bangalore? Discover Hello Errors

In a digital era driven by mobile-first experiences, businesses are no longer asking if they need a mobile app—but when and how fast. Whether you're a startup building an MVP, a mid-sized firm automating services, or an enterprise upgrading legacy systems, choosing the right App Developer in Bangalore is critical.

Hello Errors, a dynamic and innovative app development company based in Bangalore, offers more than just app-building services. We offer digital enablement—crafting mobile solutions that are secure, scalable, and future-proof. From ideation to deployment and continuous optimization, Hello Errors builds apps that power businesses forward.

The Mobile App Landscape in Bangalore

Bangalore, India’s tech powerhouse, is home to thousands of startups, global IT giants, and forward-thinking entrepreneurs. With the explosion of mobile internet usage, businesses across sectors—from e-commerce and education to fintech and healthcare—are prioritizing app development.

Why is there such high demand for an App Developer in Bangalore?

Bangalore’s talent pool includes world-class designers, developers, and digital strategists.

The city fosters innovation through incubators, accelerators, and tech parks.

Startups here seek fast, agile development cycles to stay competitive.

This fertile ecosystem demands a partner like Hello Errors—one that understands speed, scale, and user experience.

What Makes Hello Errors a Distinctive App Developer in Bangalore?

Unlike generic development agencies, Hello Errors provides end-to-end mobile solutions tailored to your vision and industry needs. Our differentiators include:

1. App Consulting & Product Strategy

Before writing a single line of code, Hello Errors begins with product consulting. We help you:

Validate your app idea

Understand user personas

Create wireframes and user journeys

Select the right tech stack

Define app monetization models

Whether you’re building a B2B SaaS tool or a B2C lifestyle app, our product-first approach ensures clarity from the start.

2. Modular & API-Driven Architecture

Our developers follow modular development principles, meaning each feature is independent and reusable. This not only speeds up development but also makes future upgrades simpler. Plus, with RESTful APIs and GraphQL, we connect your app to third-party tools, CRMs, ERPs, and analytics systems seamlessly.

3. Security-First Development

In today’s climate of data breaches and privacy concerns, app security is non-negotiable. As a trusted App Developer in Bangalore, Hello Errors integrates:

End-to-end encryption

Biometric authentication (Face ID, fingerprint)

Token-based sessions

GDPR & Indian data compliance

Secure cloud storage and backup solutions

Security isn't an afterthought—it's built into every app we deliver.

Platform Specialization: Native, Hybrid & Progressive

Hello Errors supports every major mobile development approach to suit your timeline and budget:

● Native App Development

Ideal for performance-heavy apps, our native Android and iOS development uses Kotlin, Java, Swift, and SwiftUI to deliver responsive, optimized experiences.

● Hybrid App Development

Need an app quickly on both platforms? We use Flutter, Ionic, and React Native to write once and deploy everywhere—saving cost and time.

● Progressive Web Apps (PWAs)

For businesses that want the app feel without going through app stores, we build PWAs that work across browsers and devices while being SEO-friendly and lightweight.

Industry-Specific App Solutions

Hello Errors doesn't offer one-size-fits-all development. We tailor our services based on your sector and goals. Some industries we cater to:

Healthcare: Doctor-patient portals, telemedicine apps

Retail & E-commerce: Marketplace apps, inventory sync, AR-enabled shopping

EdTech: LMS platforms, live class features, interactive quizzes

Logistics: Real-time tracking, route optimization, fleet management

Hospitality: Booking engines, guest apps, feedback management

Looking for an App Developer in Bangalore that understands your industry? Hello Errors is that partner.

App Marketing and Analytics Support

Building your app is just one piece of the puzzle. Getting it discovered and ensuring users engage with it is equally important.

Hello Errors offers:

App Store Optimization (ASO): Optimized titles, tags, descriptions

In-app analytics setup: Firebase, Mixpanel, and custom dashboards

User feedback tools: Ratings, in-app surveys, real-time crash reporting

Performance testing: Across devices and networks

From launch to version 2.0 and beyond, Hello Errors stands by your side.

Why Clients Choose Hello Errors Over Other App Developers in Bangalore

��️ Personalized Engagement: You’ll have a dedicated team that truly understands your business. ✔️ Transparent Pricing: No hidden charges or vague estimates—just clear project milestones. ✔️ Agility: We move fast without compromising quality. ✔️ Post-Deployment Support: Regular updates, feature enhancements, and real-time debugging. ✔️ Scalability: Ready to accommodate your growing user base and feature roadmap.

Client Testimonials (Examples)

“Hello Errors helped us launch our educational app within 10 weeks! Their support and design quality were top-notch.” – Aakash M., EdTech Startup Founder, Bangalore

“We needed a secure telemedicine app with video calling. Hello Errors delivered on time and beyond expectations.” – Priya G., Healthcare Business Owner

How to Get Started with Hello Errors

Taking the first step toward building your mobile app is easy with Hello Errors:

Schedule a Free Consultation Tell us your idea or business challenge.

Get a Custom Proposal We’ll send a roadmap, timeline, and cost breakdown.

Begin Development Our team handles the design, build, test, and deployment.

Ongoing Optimization We continuously improve your app with analytics and user feedback.

👉 Visit https://helloerrors.in to get started today.

Final Words: Choose the Right App Developer in Bangalore

In Bangalore’s fast-moving digital landscape, launching a flawless, scalable mobile app is not just an option—it’s a necessity. Partnering with a proven, creative, and technically skilled App Developer in Bangalore like Hello Errors gives your business a competitive edge.

We turn your mobile ambitions into a feature-rich, intuitive reality. Let Hello Errors be your tech partner in this exciting journey.

[sovorun]

IT Consulting That Solves Real Business Problems

Technology was supposed to make our lives easier. Instead, it sometimes feels like that roommate who leaves dishes in the sink, forgets to pay the Wi-Fi bill, and randomly crashes at 2 AM just when you need it most.

From lagging systems to patchy cybersecurity, many businesses today face tech-related roadblocks that stall growth and frustrate teams. And while there’s no shortage of software, tools, or “one-size-fits-all” solutions, what businesses really need is clarity, strategy, and smart implementation.

Looking for expert IT guidance without full-time salaries? Our consulting team is ready to act as your on-demand tech partner no extra overhead.

This is where IT consulting services become more than helpful they become crucial.

The Real Meaning of IT Consulting

Let’s clear something up: IT consulting is not just fixing printers or yelling "have you tried turning it off and on again?"

A professional IT consulting company partners with businesses to solve core operational issues, using technology as the lever. Whether you're a startup trying to scale fast or an enterprise dealing with outdated systems, IT consultants help you align your tech with your business goals.

They don’t just bring in tech they bring in transformation.

Business Problems, Meet Your Match

Every business has its "oh no" moments:

Teams wasting hours on manual reporting

Customer complaints piling up due to system lags

Projects getting delayed because the tools don’t talk to each other

IT consultants step in like digital detectives. They assess what's working, what’s breaking, and what needs a graceful retirement (looking at you, 2007 CRM). The goal? To solve actual business problems—not just slap fancy tools on top of broken processes.

Common problems IT consulting services tackle:

Poor workflow automation

Inefficient data handling

Lack of integration across platforms

Weak cybersecurity posture

Sluggish software performance

By auditing your systems and processes, a seasoned IT consulting company doesn’t just suggest solutions they design sustainable improvements.

It’s Strategy, Not Software

You don’t go to a financial advisor for a piggy bank. Similarly, you don’t go to an IT consultant for random software recommendations.

What sets high-quality IT consulting services apart is their ability to strategize. Consultants analyze your current systems, identify performance gaps, and map out digital upgrades that align with your unique business model.

Whether you're in retail, finance, logistics, healthcare, or hospitality—your tech needs to serve your goals. A good consultant makes sure it does.

For example: A retail business might need ERP integration to manage inventory and sales data. A law firm might require a secure document management system with encrypted client access. A growing startup may need help with cloud migration and DevOps best practices.

Each case is different, which is why custom strategy is king.

A Team Without the Overhead

Hiring a full in-house tech team is expensive, time-consuming, and often overkill for businesses that don’t need constant development.

This is where an IT consulting company becomes a cost-effective game-changer. You get access to a team of experts—developers, analysts, architects, and project managers—only when you need them.

This not only reduces payroll costs, but also speeds up implementation. No long recruitment cycles. No lengthy onboarding. Just actionable solutions, fast.

Transforming Chaos Into Clarity

You’ve got systems. You’ve got software. You’ve got... confusion. If you’ve ever said, “I know we have that feature somewhere,” you probably need help organizing your tech stack.

IT consultants bring structure. They standardize your tools, centralize your data, and integrate platforms for smoother performance. That way, your team can focus on what they do best instead of playing tech support all day.

What transformation looks like:

Replacing 5 tools with 1 integrated platform

Automating repeatable tasks

Creating real-time dashboards for smarter decision-making

Setting up secure remote access for hybrid teams

Reducing downtime with better infrastructure

The result? Your business runs like a well-oiled (digital) machine.

Section 5: Future-Proofing Your Business

Tech is changing fast. What works today might be outdated tomorrow (just ask anyone still clinging to Internet Explorer). A top-tier IT consulting company doesn’t just solve today’s issues—they prepare you for what’s next.

From cloud migration and AI adoption to cybersecurity upgrades and scalability planning, IT consultants ensure your business stays competitive and resilient.

A good IT consulting service includes:

Regular audits

Risk assessments

Compliance assistance

Disaster recovery plans

Growth mapping and forecasting

This is the kind of support that turns a reactive business into a proactive one.

Want your business to stay ahead of tech trends, not behind them? Let’s future-proof your operations with smart IT strategies.

Real Impact, Real Results

You’re not investing in IT for fun you want results. Faster performance. Better customer service. Smarter data usage. Increased revenue. And guess what? The right IT consulting services deliver just that.

Our clients have:

Cut software costs by 40%

Reduced manual tasks by 70%

Achieved faster project turnaround

Improved employee satisfaction (yes, tech burnout is real)

Gained a competitive edge in their industries

The ROI is real, and the transformation is often dramatic.

Conclusion

In a world flooded with tech buzzwords, it's easy to feel overwhelmed. But good IT consulting isn’t about jargon it’s about results. It’s about working with someone who listens to your problems, understands your business, and builds solutions that actually fit.