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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Yanis Varoufakis’s “Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism?”

Monday (October 2), I'll be in Boise to host an event with VE Schwab. On October 7–8, I'm in Milan to keynote Wired Nextfest.

Socialists have been hotly anticipating the end of capitalism since at least 1848, when Marx and Engels published The Communist Manifesto - but the Manifesto also reminds us that capitalism is only too happy to reinvent itself during its crises, coming back in new forms, over and over again:

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/10/31/books/review/a-spectre-haunting-china-mieville.html

Now, in Technofeudalism: What Killed Capitalism, Yanis Varoufakis - the "libertarian Marxist" former finance minister of Greece - makes an excellent case that capitalism died a decade ago, turning into a new form of feudalism: technofeudalism:

https://www.penguin.co.uk/books/451795/technofeudalism-by-varoufakis-yanis/9781847927279

To understand where Varoufakis is coming from, you need to go beyond the colloquial meanings of "capitalism" and "feudalism." Capitalism isn't just "a system where we buy and sell things." It's a system where capital rules the roost: the richest, most powerful people are those who coerce workers into using their capital (factories, tools, vehicles, etc) to create income in the form of profits.

By contrast, a feudal society is one organized around people who own things, charging others to use them to produce goods and services. In a feudal society, the most important form of income isn't profit, it's rent. To quote Varoufakis: "rent flows from privileged access to things in fixed supply" (land, fossil fuels, etc). Profit comes from "entrepreneurial people who have invested in things that wouldn't have otherwise existed."

This distinction is subtle, but important: "Profit is vulnerable to market competition, rent is not." If you have a coffee shop, then every other coffee shop that opens on your block is a competitive threat that could erode your margins. But if you own the building the coffee shop owner rents, then every other coffee shop that opens on the block raises the property values and the amount of rent you can charge.

The capitalist revolution - extolled and condemned in the Manifesto - was led by people who valorized profits as the heroic returns for making something new in this world, and who condemned rents as a parasitic drain on the true producers whose entrepreneurial spirits would enrich us all. The "free markets" extolled by Adam Smith weren't free from regulation - they were free from rents:

https://locusmag.com/2021/03/cory-doctorow-free-markets/

But rents, Varoufakis writes, "survived only parasitically on, and in the shadows of, profit." That is, rentiers (people whose wealth comes from rents) were a small rump of the economy, slightly suspect and on the periphery of any consideration of how to organize our society. But all that changed in 2008, when the world's central banks addressed the Great Financial Crisis by bailing out not just the banks, but the bankers, funneling trillions to the people whose reckless behavior brought the world to the brink of economic ruin.

Suddenly, these wealthy people, and their banks, experienced enormous wealth-gains without profits. Their businesses lost billions in profits (the cost of offering the business's products and services vastly exceeded the money people spent on those products and services). But the business still had billions more at the end of the year than they'd had at the start: billions in public money, funneled to them by central banks.

This kicked off the "everything rally" in which every kind of asset - real estate, art, stocks, bonds, even monkey JPEGs - ballooned in value. That's exactly what you'd expect from an economy where rents dominate over profits. Feudal rentiers don't need to invest to keep making money - remember, their wealth comes from owning things that other people invest in to make money.

Rents are not vulnerable to competition, so rentiers don't need to plow their rents into new technology to keep the money coming in. The capitalist that leases the oil field needs to invest in new pumps and refining to stay competitive with other oil companies. But the rentier of the oil field doesn't have to do anything: either the capitalist tenant will invest in more capital and make the field more valuable, or they will lose out to another capitalist who'll replace them. Either way, the rentier gets more rent.

So when capitalists get richer, they spend some of that money on new capital, but when rentiers get richer, them spend money on more assets they can rent to capitalists. The "everything rally" made all kinds of capital more valuable, and companies that were transitioning to a feudal footing turned around and handed that money to their investors in stock buybacks and dividends, rather than spending the money on R&D, or new plants, or new technology.

The tech companies, though, were the exception. They invested in "cloud capital" - the servers, lines, and services that everyone else would have to pay rent on in order to practice capitalism.

Think of Amazon: Varoufakis likens shopping on Amazon to visiting a bustling city center filled with shops run by independent capitalists. However, all of those capitalists are subservient to a feudal lord: Jeff Bezos, who takes 51 cents out of every dollar they bring in, and furthermore gets to decide which products they can sell and how those products must be displayed:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

The postcapitalist, technofeudal world isn't a world without capitalism, then. It's a world where capitalists are subservient to feudalists ("cloudalists" in Varoufakis's thesis), as are the rest of us the cloud peons, from the social media users and performers who fill the technofuedalists' siloes with "content" to the regular users whose media diet is dictated by the cloudalists' recommendation systems:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

A defining feature of cloudalism is the ability of the rentier lord to destroy any capitalist vassal's business with the click of a mouse. If Google kicks your business out of the search index, or if Facebook blocks your publication, or if Twitter shadowbans mentions of your product, or if Apple pulls your app from the store, you're toast.

Capitalists "still have the power to command labor from the majority who are reliant on wages," but they are still mere vassals to the cloudalists. Even the most energetic capitalist can't escape paying rent, thanks in large part to "IP," which I claim is best understood as "laws that let a company reach beyond its walls to dictate the conduct of competitors, critics and customers":

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

Varoufakis points to ways that the cloudalists can cement their gains: for example, "green" energy doesn't rely on land-leases (like fossil fuels), but it does rely on networked grids and data-protocols that can be loaded up with IP, either or both of which can be turned into chokepoints for feudal rent-extraction. To make things worse, Varoufakis argues that cloudalists won't be able to muster the degree of coordination and patience needed to actually resolve the climate emergency - they'll not only extract rent from every source of renewables, but they'll also silo them in ways that make them incapable of doing the things we need them to do.

Energy is just one of the technofeudal implications that Varoufakis explores in this book: there are also lengthy and fascinating sections on geopolitics, monetary policy, and the New Cold War. Technofeudalism - and the struggle to produce a dominant fiefdom - is a very useful lens for understanding US/Chinese tech wars.

Though Varoufakis is laying out a technical and even esoteric argument here, he takes great pains to make it accessible. The book is structured as a long open letter to his father, a chemical engineer and leftist who was a political prisoner during the fascist takeover of Greece. The framing device works very well, especially if you've read Talking To My Daughter About the Economy, Varoufakis's 2018 radical economics primer in the form of a letter to his young daughter:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374538491/talkingtomydaughterabouttheeconomy

At the very end of the book, Varoufakis calls for "a cloud rebellion to overthrow technofeudalism." This section is very short - and short on details. That's not a knock against the book: there are plenty of very good books that consist primarily or entirely of analysis of the problems with a system, without having to lay out a detailed program for solving those problems.

But for what it's worth, I think there is a way to plan and execute a "cloud rebellion" - a way to use laws, technology, reverse-engineering and human rights frameworks to shatter the platforms and seize the means of computation. I lay out that program in The Internet Con: How the Seize the Means of Computation, a book I published with Verso Books a couple weeks ago:

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

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/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

#pluralistic #yanis varoufakis #socialism #communism #technofeudalism #economics #postcapitalism #political science #rent-seeking #rentiers #books #reviews #gift guide

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ladykailitha · 1 month

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Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 1

Welcome to my other AU that I couldn't wait until September to show you all. I know, I know the closing ceremonies for the Olympics are tomorrow, which is another reason to get this in before all the fanfare dies.

Summary: When a freak accident at his third Olympics left him with migraines and a fear of deep water, Steve thought his Olympic dreams were dead—until delinquent Eddie Munson arrived at his pool to do community service. Steve witnesses Eddie's swimming talent and realizes his dreams don't have to be over. Now it's a race to get Eddie Olympic ready in two years. Steve's going for gold, but Eddie might have other interests in mind.

~I know I forgot to post the results of the poll regarding which time period to set this story in. But I got the notification on my phone while I was busy and by the time I got to my laptop, I forgot. And kept forgetting.

Most people wanted Eddie's Olympics to be in 2004 but after talking to people in the tags and comments, I decided on 2012 instead. Sorry about that.

Steve Harrington grew up with parents who pushed him hard in everything he did. He had to be the best at playing the piano, basketball, baseball, singing, formal dancing, and swimming. But of all those things Steve excelled at swimming the best. Because once he put his cap on over his ears, the roar of the crowd dimmed and then vanished the second he hit the water.

Those other things? Suddenly no longer mattered because Steve wasn’t just good at swimming, he was brilliant. From when he first started competing when he was eleven there was always talk about the Olympics. Always the Olympics.

So it was something he was being pushed toward. World Championships and other competitions were just trials for the Olympics as far his father was concerned.

His father. Clint Harrington, who had never worked hard for anything in his life, who had his job handed to him by his dad, who was a raging, frat boy narcissist who drank his weight in alcohol before he was even twenty-one. Who collected guns but never shot one in his life and didn’t even know how to load one. The man who decided that because his life was soft, his son’s could not be.

When he got fifth at the Olympics at age fourteen everyone was amazed and even a little shocked. Clint Harrington was disappointed. Even though everyone knew that boys his age were still growing and changing and once he had settled into his body, he would do more than just medal, he would take home gold.

Which is exactly what happened his second Olympics. He was eighteen and just coming into his own. He walked away with three silver medals, four gold, and a bronze. The bronze is what upset Clint Harrington the most.

How dare he only take third! The audacity!

Where was his mother in all this? Maureen Harrington was bragging at all her country clubs, charity dos that her son was an Olympic gold medalist. Never mind her friends had never met him. That they saw more of him on their TV then she had since he turned ten. That was when she decided that he was big enough to handle himself and promptly stopped interacting him.

Clint hadn’t even noticed, he was so focused on making sure Steve won at any cost. He hired the best coaches, built a swimming pool in the backyard, drove him to all his meets, all of it; just so Steve could be the best at any cost.

There was only one line Clint didn’t cross, which honestly surprised everyone who knew him. He didn’t suggest Steve dope up. Steve wasn’t sure if it was because he was a coward and was afraid Steve would get caught, or if he just merely thought Steve could be pushed into perfection without them.

But he was always grateful that it was the one line Clint Harrington refused to cross.

And then it happened. It was 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing, China. Steve was poised to break several records and win a staggering amount of medals. He was in eight events and everyone was expecting him to medal in every one of them.

But the only things he broke that year, was his head, his hopes, his dreams, and his spirit. For in the very first event the jump board he was on, slipped out from under him as jumped. His head hit the side of the pool and he sunk like a stone to the bottom.

He didn’t remember much, the roar of the crowd turned to screams, the sicking crunch as his head hit the side and then the rush of water all around him as he sunk, weightless to eternity.

When he woke up, all Steve was left with was migraines and a fear of large bodies of water.

His dad walked away that day and he never saw him again.

Two Years Later

Eddie Munson was in deep trouble and he knew it. He had been arrested with enough weed on him to know it wasn’t for personal use. Possession with intent to sell. Thank god it happened two weeks before his eighteenth birthday otherwise he’d be facing real jail time and not.. community service?

Wait, what?

He was expecting probation at the very least. But nope. He was sentenced to five hundred hours of community service as it was his first offense, he had a troubled childhood, and apparently the God damned Chief of Police on his side. Who had said that he was a good kid who protected the weak and participated in afterschool programs to help teach them math, creative writing, cooperative skills, troubleshooting, and time management.

Eddie’s lawyer told him before Hopper was to testify at his sentencing hearing that he could not laugh, could not chuckle, could not even so much as snort or smile. When Eddie asked why, he was told he couldn’t be told that or else it would be seen as influencing his testimony. And then Hopper got up on the stand and said that.

D&D. Eddie DM’ed D&D after school. Jesus Christ did it take everything he had not to show any emotion at all.

Five hundred hours was nothing to slouch at. It came out to roughly three months. And he could only work eight hour days. He had barely graduated high school by the skin of his teeth and a fair amount of flattery.

Chief Hopper came to pick him up personally for his first day of community service.

Eddie came barreling out of his trailer only to stop in his tracks when he saw Hopper leaning up against his pickup truck arms folded and ankles crossed.

“Chief,” he said dryly. “To what do I owe this rather dubious pleasure?”

“Get in the truck, boy,” Hop growled. “I’m doing your uncle a favor and making sure you actually show up. And I will be taking you every day. You’ll work five days a week for eight hours a day. You will have three people sign off on your sheet every day. Me, Joyce Byers, and your direct supervisor, Murray Bauman. Every god damn day. Because if you miss one signature, one day and you’ll be thrown in jail. Do. You. Understand?”

Eddie gulped.

He nodded and quietly moved around the truck to get in on the passenger side, head down and shoulders rounded. He didn’t utter a single word the whole trip. He just followed Hopper through the doors and into Joyce’s office.

Sitting behind the desk was a lovely woman with kind eyes, standing beside her was a balding man with beady eyes behind thick glasses. Eddie hadn’t liked the sight of him at all. He just hoped the guy didn’t make his already miserable life even worse.

Joyce broke down all his duties, when he could take breaks and a lunch, and that those would be included in his service hours. He would get access to all the facilities but with the proviso that if a client wanted what he was using, he would have to give it to them.

Whatever that meant.

“Come on,” she finished. “Let me show you around, then Murray will spend all of today training you.”

She stood up and Eddie immediately followed.

“Hopper will sign you in,” Joyce explained, handing a clipboard with his time sheet on it and a pen to the police chief.

He signed it and handed it back to her, she put it on her desk.

“Then Murray and I will sign it when you’re done for the day,” she continued as she moved around the desk. “You are allowed sick days but only five, unless signed off by a doctor.”

Eddie breathed a sigh of relief on that one. He got hay fever something fierce in early September and there were some days that it got so bad he couldn’t see.

All three men followed her out the door. Hopper stopped in front of it.

“This is where I get off,” he said gruffly. “You’ll have to find your own way home as I’ll be at work when you get done.”

Eddie nodded. He shook hands with him and watched as he left.

Joyce smiled at Eddie brightly. “Let’s go.”

She showed him where all the equipment was and that he was charged with wiping it all down once an hour. They continued on and suddenly he heard it.

A sound he had not heard in years.

The sound of kids’ playful screams echoing around the sounds of splashing water. Holy shit, Uncle Wayne, he thought nervously. What did you do for the Chief of Police, hide a body?

Joyce opened the door and led Eddie through the humid air and strong scent of chlorine, pointing out his duties. Which included mopping the floors and grabbing the great big laundry baskets that held the complimentary towels to be taken to washed and also restock them every morning.

Eddie was practically vibrating now. Yeah, sure it was shit grunt work that was meant to be deliberately demeaning, but he got access to the pool. He would be able to swim again and for more than just a couple of times a summer where they would have free swim days when it got too hot.

They got to the end of the tour and Joyce turned around to face him, clapping her hands together.

“So you ready to get to work?”

Eddie sighed. Because yeah that part still sucked. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit!” she said with a laugh.

Steve stepped out of the showers and toweled off the best he could, throwing his white trainer polo on.

Because this pool was in Indianapolis where Olympic trials had been held more than a couple of times, it had the best of services for swimmers that could be offered. You had the standard lifeguards in the red polos, the coaches in the blue polos, and the trainers like him in white. It was supposed to be patriotic, but there were far too many countries that had the red, white, and blue color scheme for Steve to do anything but scoff at the notion.

What was the difference between a trainer and a coach? Well it depended on who you asked. If you asked a trainer, they would tell you age. They taught beginning, intermediate, and advanced classes.

If you asked a coach? They would tell that trainers only taught coaches inspired. They brought out the best in their students, fostered a love of water, and coached them in competitions.

They also had state of the art facilities, too. A kiddie pool, two Olympic sized swimming pools, an outdoor pool and water park, and even an endless pool.

Steve loved the endless pool. It was fifteen feet long and eight feet wide with a current that you could change the speed on so you could build up strength and endurance. It was how he unwound every day.

He stepped out of the men’s changing rooms and smiled at his assistant trainer, Robin Buckley who was waiting for him.

“You ready for another day of screaming, terrified children?” she asked with a grin, slinging one arm around his shoulders.

He returned her grin.

“You better believe it!”

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Also on the 14th, I'll be throwing myself a birthday party on my new Discord server for my writing. Link here. Come join me, ask questions about me or my work. I like to chat. I'll still be doing WIP Wednesday but a more informal vibe in Discord, too.

Tag list: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #olympic steddie

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gretagerwigsmuse · 2 years

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i don’t know, blame the air force?

summary: in which lieutenant commander bradshaw feels his girlfriend’s wrath after she gets her year end bonus and uncle sam takes a pretty penny out of it

a/n: listen….this is very self indulgent and that’s all i’m going to say. i literally wrote it this afternoon after…well i got fucked by the government in the form of taxes on my bonus. also yeah she’s kind of a brat in this one, but i think it’s a little deserved. rated t for language and suggestive comments 1.2k

It wasn’t often that you beat Bradley home from work, but sometimes on Fridays you would sneak out of the office at lunch and work the rest of the day from home. It typically put you in a good mood and gave you the opportunity to run a quick load of laundry or get started on an - admittedly - rudimentary dinner. Sometimes you’d even go for a dip in your building’s skyline pool.

But that afternoon, you were seething. Properly seething. And no amount of stress cleaning or tanning was going to make you feel any better. Maybe you just needed Bradley to fuck you six ways to Sunday later? Surely the serotonin from a couple orgasms could soothe this particular anger brewing inside of you.

As per every October, you had gotten your year end bonus with your paycheck earlier that day, which always inspired equal amounts of giddiness and angst within you.

The giddiness, of course, because who doesn’t love extra money? It was like found money twice a year. Sure, you worked extra hard for it, many late nights at the office, client site visits, and presentations over the last four years could attest to that. You were up in the air over whether you should add it to your brokerage account or splurge on something? Because again - you worked for it.

But then there was the angst.

The angst because you inevitably lost half of it to taxes. And this angst appeared like clockwork, twice a year, every year, for the last six years you’d been working at PwC. You knew this - it was inevitable.

Except, earlier that morning, you’d been at your desk reading the WSJ with your coffee and had seen a headline. A stupid, annoying headline that had made you purse your lips, realization dawning as you rushed to check your pay stub on workday.

Pentagon Refocuses Spending on Weapons to Deter China

As you read further, you saw that as part of the FY24 budget, the Pentagon was increasing the $30.6B defense budget a further 12% with a focus on missiles, rockets, and - yes - airplanes, specifically for the Air Force.

Uncle Sam was taking 35% of taxes out of your bonus for that? Fuck that.

So, when Bradley came by your apartment later that afternoon, freshly showered after a quick trip to the gym after work, you were steaming. And though it was not Bradley’s fault - not in the slightest - seeing him in that stupid(ly tight), grey, US Navy t-shirt only further contributed to your sour mood.

“Hey!” he called out, letting himself in with his key. You turned your head towards him and hummed, letting out a gruff hi. He toed off his sneakers and left them by the door before coming over to where you were laying on the couch, doom scrolling through Instagram, and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

He frowned at your tepid response and you felt like a absolute bitch for a moment. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

You briefly glanced at Bradley and then went back to staring - glaring - at your phone. “I’m just in a mood - tired.”

You could see him doing the mental math, trying to figure out if you were on your period, but that wasn’t until next week. “S’okay. We can just hang out and have an early -”

“- Crash any planes today?” the words slipped out before you could think better of it. Before he could even respond, you cut Bradley off. “What’s it matter anyway? They’ll just buy you new ones? Fuck the kids, I mean, they don’t need to eat school lunch? And the Postal Service can cut off Saturday delivery? Hmmmm maybe we should cut Social Security even more? Our infrastructure doesn’t need to be fixed, let’s just let our bridges and roads crumble! Fucking taxes bullshit.”

“Uhhh...”

You got up in a huff and started pacing, getting more and more worked up. “It’s not that I mind paying taxes - well, that’s not totally true. But like? Actually put them towards something that’s going to help people? Not just stupid rockets and missiles and fucking -”

“- Did you get your tax refund or something?”

Bradley was standing next to you, trying to put his hands on your shoulders in what would have been a calming motion had you not been acting completely crazy over eleven thousand dollars.

“It’s October?” you snapped.

“I don’t know?” Bradley shrugged his shoulders, getting a little worked up himself. “Rich people are weird? And your dad seems like he’d know how - nevermind.” You rolled your eyes. “What happened?”

Your shoulders sagged. Fuck, this wasn’t Bradley’s fault. It was that piece of shit House Majority Leader’s, who was so far up Lockheed Martin’s ass he could see -

“I got my year end bonus check today…” you grumbled.

Like you figured, a huge smile lit up Bradley’s face. “That’s amazing - or not?” he backtracked.

“I lost like 35% of it to taxes.”

“Ahhh.”

“And I saw this article in the Journal this morning about the new Pentagon budget and how they’re purchasing these new planes for the Air Force and it just - it’s dumb but it made me mad because I just wish my taxes went to the things that will actually benefit the average American?”

Bradley tucked your hair behind your ear and clucked your chin. “That’s a lot to put on your shoulders, kid…”

“Do you think I’m acting like a brat?” You knew you were, you were just curious if Bradley would say the same thing.

He made a face. “Well,” the word dragged out, “maybe a little…” You hung your head and leaned against his chest. “But it’s kind of valid, I’d be pretty pissed losing all that out to the Air Force, too. But the Navy’s different. They don’t just put anyone in the cockpit -”

“- Oh, really?” You peered up at him. “And how many planes have you crashed, Bradley?”

He pursed his lips. “Like on purpose or -”

You threw your hands up and groaned, eventually making your way over to your bar cart. “- Like on purpose he says! Bradley!”

There wasn’t any ice in the ice bucket, but you didn’t care. You needed something. Anything to take the edge off. You were too annoyed, too fussy - too bratty.

As you poured yourself - and Bradley - a drink, he came up behind you and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

“Sweetheart,” he cooed in your ear, “I promise you, I have only crashed three planes on purpose.”

Oh how you wanted to laugh. You leaned back against Bradley’s chest, fully ensconced in the smell of his soap and aftershave. “Hmmm, that’s $195M down the drain. Could’ve fed a lot of kids in Kern County with that money, repaved a lot of roads, too…”

He grabbed the drink you had poured for yourself and took a sip, hissing at the burn of the tequila. “I don’t know about the kids, but I can make it up to you.”

The glass was placed back on the bar cart with a clink and Bradley placed his right hand on your hip, while the left slipped underneath the waistband of your skirt and eventually your underwear. Your whole body sagged against him and you hated how keen you were for this - for him. Apparently you really had just needed to get fucked.

“Such a pretty girl…even if you are a bit of a brat sometimes,” he finished, nipping at your ear. “Hey, kid?” You hummed. “You know if I was an astronaut I would cost the US government even more money, you still sure you want me to go down that route?”

“Shut up and fuck me, rocketman.”

“Can do, hell I’ll even buy you dinner.”

-----------

this was so random so i hope people actually like it??? idk if no one does i never wrote it??

small taglist: @howdysebby (happy early birthday!) @sometimesanalice (thanks for the eyes alexa!) @notroosterbradshaw @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @rae-gar-targaryen @jupitercomet @sunderlust @softspiderling @seasonsbloom @heartsofminds @cloudycluster

#bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw x reader

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ratatoast · 8 months

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Son coeur est le tien

Alastor x Reader qpr (general headcanons)

a/n: halfway through writing this, i realised that maybe my idea of a qpr might be different than someone else's haha,,, also, this is the very first time I've written for hazbin hotel lol (and should i mention that english isn't my first language? haha)

that being said, i hope y'all enjoy this mess :P

also also if y'all would like me to continue writing Alastor qpr (cuz there's def a shortage on that), feel free to send me prompts :)) i obvi wont write nsfw, but other than that, i think anything is fine (?)

Being in a qpr with the radio demon would include…

Long talks over tea/coffee

There’s never any awkward silence between the two of you. You two could be chatting about the most mundane things, and the conversation would still flow perfectly.

He’d definitely learn exactly how you like your hot beverage.

I personally can’t imagine him being an avid coffee drinker tbh, but I don’t think he’d mind if you are one.

Takes your tea parties very seriously, knows all your favourite pastries, puts on some smooth jazz, brings out the fine china, etc

Loves listening to you talking about your day, your current interests, hobbies, etc. Even if the topic itself isn’t all that interesting to him, he’ll still listen to you.

The both of you love gossiping with each other. Neither of you will admit it to others though.

Petnames

You very rarely hear your given name come out of this man’s mouth.

He never calls you anything that he deems too sickly sweet, usually sticks to dear, sweetheart, or darling.

If he’s having a particularly great day, he might call you love, but that doesn’t happen very often.

Constant praises & words of affirmation

I think words of affirmation is one of his main love languages.

He constantly showers you with praises, telling you how gorgeous you look, how witty your jokes are, etc.

We all know that this man is a charmer, however his compliments to you are more than just empty words… most of the time :p

Do keep in mind that this man is a master manipulator tho, so he isn't above using sweet talk to get what he wants.

Playful banter that keeps you on your toes

He loves a good back and forth, especially if his darling is a particularly witty individual.

The two of you can turn any conversation into a battle of words.

However, if you take it too far, he’s not afraid to put you in your place with a couple of sharp words, aimed to hurt.

But most of the time it’s just good fun :)

Never having to so much as lift a finger

He’s very big on acts of service.

Forget about opening doors or pulling out chairs for yourself.

He takes being a gentleman very seriously, especially when it comes to you.

But not only is he a gentleman, he’s also a powerful overlord.

So if you ever need anything, be that a new pair of shoes, or getting rid of a particularly nasty demon, consider it done.

Being his closest confidant

We all know that Alastor has many acquaintances, however he falls short on meaningful connections.

He doesn’t let people get too close to him, and it is sort of understandable why.

You are one of the only exceptions to that.

You know more about this man than all of hell combined.

It took a while for him to open up to you, and even longer until he started telling you about his past.

He’s the kind to drop hints about himself and let you figure out the rest.

Trust goes a long way with him, I think he’d be more open to sharing his plans and such with someone that he knows won’t question his every move.

Even so, there’s still a lot that you don’t know about him, but you’ll just have to take what you can.

You can dress however you want… as long as it fits his taste

He’s not all too picky about what you wear.

Contrary to popular belief, he wouldn’t expect you to be in full glam 24/7.

If you like more revealing clothes, well, he’ll just have to make sure that anyone that dares to as much as look at you the wrong way is taken care of.

That being said, looking well put together is a must.

You represent him in a way, and he expects you to look the part.

He can’t have you wandering the streets of hell in rags that not even the lowest sinners would wear.

Absolutely no modern technology allowed

Do I even need to explain this?

He’d rather be safe than sorry when it comes to the possibility of Vox messing with you.

You are never truly alone

Alastor would make sure to accompany you on your outings as much as his schedule allows it.

But let’s be real, he’s a very busy man.

He makes sure that a few of his shadows keep an eye on you though, even in his absence.

I don’t think your personal strength matters in this case, as I’ve mentioned before, there’s very little that this man wouldn’t do for you, especially when it comes to your personal safety.

Lets you get closer to him than anyone else

This time, I’m talking about physical closeness.

We all know that he isn’t big on physical touch.

However, I feel like you could get away with a lot more than others.

When the two of you are walking somewhere, it’s not unusual for him to offer you his arm.

When you’re standing next to him, he sometimes rests his hand on your back, although that is often a subconscious thing.

If you’re having a particularly rough day, he isn’t too opposed to letting you hug him.

You can also get away with laying on his lap sometimes, and if he’s feeling exceptionally gracious, he might even pet your hair.

PDA is definitely a big no-no, on one hand he has an image to protect, but I also just don’t think he’d be too comfortable with showing his more vulnerable side in public.

As for kisses… if you haven’t seen each other in a while, he might greet you with a kiss on your hand, but that’s as far as it ever goes.

He’s not a very touchy-feely person, so if that bothers you… good luck finding someone better than the radio demon ;)

me af tbh lmao

anway, thanks for reading pookies mwah (slash platonic lol)

#alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor headcanons #queer platonic relationship #whew tbh i never thought that i would finish this #but i did my best #sorry for the french in the title btw lol #couldnt help myself

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stupittmoran · 10 months

Text

Top 10 headlines the media didn't tell you this week, Repost & FoIIow for more.

DeSantis vs Newsom debate turns into a sh*tshow as the Florida governor calls out San Francisco's human feces problem.

Elon Musk interview goes viral, causing mass cancelations of Disney Plus and other services.

Texas is suing Pfizer for misrepresenting COVID-19 vaccine efficacy and conspiring to censor the public.

KC Chief's fans plan to attend next game with black and red face paint after the media accused a child fan of racism.

Former official has been indicted on three grand jury charges for altering 2020 election results.

Reports of "White Lung" pneumonia affecting mostly children in China has been found in Massachusetts & Ohio.

BLM Leader endorses Trump for President in 2024, accuses democrats of racist policies.

CTIL files reveal how the government conspired to censor citizens and alter the 2020 election.

Joe Rogan says anyone who tells him to 'trust the experts' can suck his d*ck, Covid taught him that the so-called experts are bought and paid for.

James O'Keefe releases bombshell undercover report exposing China's operation of a biolab in California.

How many more Chinese biolabs are there in the United States?

BONUS: Speaker Johnson ramps up Biden impeachment, stating Biden has lied at least 16 times about his involvement in his family's business schemes.

If you appreciate this Top 10 recap, remember to Repost and FoIIow me for another week in a clown world 🤡🌎

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i-smoke-chapstick · 7 months

Note

Can I request a Gotham Riddler who's love language is gift giving and they give Riddler a question marked pin just before he goes to stage.

'MOVES,

-GOTHAM!EDWARD NYGMA X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; he's not used to being loved.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!edward x female reader. pure fluff!!! wrote headcanons cuz my inbox is overflowing so I hope that's okay!!! Ed being surprised since he's typically the giver in his relationships, hints of obsessive and dramatic eddie.

♫ “I know that you're scared someone's gonna ruin you / I'ma put some goddamn moves on you babe / I know you need it.” Moves by Suki Waterhouse

⋆ You are his number one cheerleader.

⋆ He feeds off the affection you give him, gets practically drunk on it. Both sides of him are reeling from the high you give him.

⋆ Eddie baby is typically the giver in all of his relationships; his love language is most definetly acts of service. He was so used to spending hours cooking for Kristen and helping around the house with Isabella. He is no different with you; any problem that arises, he is there.

⋆ Ed will do the dishes, cook, clean. He's a bit of a housewife. After being alone for so long when he was in the GCPD, he learned to take care of himself and he learned to do it well. Besides, he's a bit of a neat freak already, so he doesn't mind whatsoever. You'll wake up to expertly cooked breakfasts, tea or coffee or water (whichever you prefer) filled in china cups.

⋆ Now, what he isn't used to is someone reciprocating the act of love. Kristen and Isabella, put simply, didn't do very much. They didn't live long enough to do so

⋆ When you give you're first gift to him, he cocks his head and narrows his eyes. Give him a second to process.

⋆ Then his eyes light up with a smile so big and you're scared he might combust.

⋆ From then on, from each one of your gifts- he's spouting numerous "I can't thank you enough,"s and even apologies. The feeling of being spoiled is so foreign to him that when he is- he feels like he needs to reciprocate it tenfold.

⋆ "Are you sure there isn't anything else I can help with...?" After he's already ran all your errands for you, made your bed, and given you the best massage of your life.

⋆ His favorite gift by far has to be the delicate question mark brooch.

⋆ Eddie's all about appearances, and when he's on a special "riddler high" he's all about how he looks.

⋆ He's a BIG fan of presentation.

⋆ So right when he's about to hijack the Macbeth stage, and you come up to him, he's hanging off your every word- eyeing the box in your hands mysteriously.

⋆ You present the gift to him, and he slowly opens it- careful not to damage it. Anything from you is precious and deserves to be worshipped.

⋆ When he see's it he nearly doubles over, mouth hanging in agape before spreading into an open-mouthed grin. A soft gasp and chuckle leaves his mouth.

⋆ He's turning to you, smile never leaving his face. Before you know it, he's on you- confidence and adrenaline running high before the big show.

⋆ He kisses your cheek, holding you close to him, practically breathing you in. His head is nuzzling into the crook of your neck and gloved hands are gripping you tight.

⋆ "Oh, thank you very much." He's growling out against your ear, both genuine and a bit unnerving. He's already thinking of ways to spoil you once he's finished up this little activity of his.

⋆ 100% asks you to put it on him, reveling in the feeling of you grabbing his suit jacket and adjusting his tie. He's looking at you like you're the only good thing in the world. And you're all his.

⋆ You give him one final kiss before he has to go.

⋆ "Dashing." You remark, looking up at him through your lashes. Oh, you're gonna be the death of him. "Break a leg."

⋆ He's giggling like a school girl at you're words, nodding.

⋆ He is gonna make this his best show ever for you.

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kishibe-kisser · 8 months

Text

Like the Romance Novels (Erwin Smith)

Tags: military Erwin Smith x afab reader, age gap (legal of course), forbidden love, arranged marriage, spying, cursing, teasing, hair brushing, fingering, soft sex, kissing

Word count: 8463

The sound of metal scraping slightly over porcelain had the tendency to make your ears ache. Not being able to help yourself but pull a face each time your little brother’s fork grazed the plate. It was your family’s finest China and normally, your mother would have said something about the sound and scolded him right there. This evening was different though, everyone had to be on their best behavior for the esteemed guest sitting at the head of the table opposite of your father.

The air in the room was tense, knowing that the man was going to be your father’s successor had left a sour taste in your father’s mouth. Despite the fact that age was catching up to him, he refused to admit that it was time to step down as acting Sergeant Major. Your family knew it and it was nearly fact that the man across from him knew it too.

“So Erwin, how long have you been in the service?” Your mother asked, tone sickly sweet as she spoke to the man. The table seemingly went on for miles before reaching him, decorated with candelabras, lace doilies and crystal glasses. You had taken the man in when he entered the house, his tall brooding frame, broad shoulders, handsome face and strong jaw. Though now you were noticing more as you waited on his answers, such as his thick eyebrows that framed his blue eyes and the gentle lines by his eyes, showcasing the few years of stress he had undoubtedly had. You didn’t realize you had been staring until his head turned, glancing at you before refocusing his attention to your mother and her question.

“21 years, ma’am. I’ve been in ever since I turned 18.” You hadn’t expect him to be so much older than you, it made you blush because of your prior thoughts about just how attractive he was. “21 years and already in line for the Sergeant Major position, impressive.” Your father grumbled and you could feel Erwin’s eyes on you once more. Truth be told, the man couldn’t have cared less about the formalities. He went to this dinner because it was what was expected of him. If he was to take over the role of Sergeant Major, he would have to earn the respect of the men that followed your father and to do that, he had to earn his respect.

His attitude changed once he entered the major’s home, meeting his wife and children. He couldn’t help but drink you in, a woman that looked like you, your dress framing your figure. When he shook your hand, he couldn’t help but notice how delicate and soft it was in his. Now, he couldn’t help but allow his eyes to drift over to you.

“Miss Y/N?” Erwin questioned and you looked up from your plate in surprise. It was rare that guests spared a second glance towards you, let alone addressed you head on. “How old are you, miss?” He added on and you felt your cheeks warm up once more. “I’m 23, sir.” You responded and watched a smile pull over his face. “23. Are you married?” He asked and before you could respond on the sore subject, your mother did. “She decided to go to school first, even though we urged her to settle down. Gave her plenty of choices between suitable husbands. We are now looking into suitable husbands for her again, given she’s settled down.” While it wasn’t a negative thing, your mother made it sound like it was with a certain venomous tone to her voice. Erwin nodded in understanding before smiling at you apologetically. It was clear it was a tender subject, despite that he couldn’t help but be relieved at the answer.

“Why do you ask? Know anyone?” Your father joked and Erwin let out a small chuckle. This confirmed it in his mind, that the age gap was too large that he wasn’t even considered. “No, mere curiosity. I find that you went to school first admirable Miss Y/N.” He redirected his attention to you, deciding that his words were best aimed your way. He could imagine the berating you experienced, being a woman in your position and making that decision. A smile graced your face, deeply appreciating the words as they weren’t ones that you received regularly.

“Your children seem very smart.” Erwin commented, watching as the Sergeant Major puffed away on his cigar. The study was slowly filling up with smoke, some escaping through the slightly ajar door. “They are. I worry about my daughter though. My son, he’s still young and finding his way but my daughter. She’s a headache.” He confessed through puffs as Erwin faked a smile. Looking towards the door opening, he caught glimpse of your dress as you walked past and he found that the fake smile turned into a real one.

It had been a particularly windy day, as Captain Smith watched a car pull up to the base. Training had been outside and he was set to oversee it all, uniform on in full as the men did their drills. The car however was out of the ordinary, he wasn’t informed of any guests arriving at the base that day and it seemed that he wasn’t the only curious one. The soldiers stopping their drills to stare just as their sergeant was.

A heeled foot and a little bit of bare leg peaked from the car before revealing a light blue dress patterned with flowers. Captain Smith felt his cheeks pull into a smile as you revealed yourself from the car. Dress and hair flowing freely in the wind as you straightened out your clothes. It wasn’t until he heard the murmurs from the soldiers that he snapped out of his daze. He knew the men didn’t see women quite as often, he didn’t expect the crude comments though. Shooting the men a glare before wandering over to the car with a wave.

“Miss Y/N.” A dominating voice said, grabbing your attention among the all the soldiers. Turning your head, the wind quickly blew your hair over your face and eyes and before you could do anything, gentle fingers moved the hairs behind your ears. “Miss Y/N.” Captain Smith said again, making a blush pull over your cheeks. He looked handsome at dinner, yet even more so in his uniform. It made him look so official and despite the fact that your father wore the same one, it left an entirely different impression being worn by Captain Smith.

“Were we expecting you?” He asked, a concerned expression pulling over his rugged features. “No, no, not at all. Father received a telegram at home and it seemed like an urgent matter. I simply came to deliver it.” You told him, trying to ignore the gawking stares of the other soldiers. They were making you slightly uncomfortable, finding it hard to concentrate on the man standing in front of you and the task at hand. Fidgeting with the telegram, you looked to the ground and to your heel covered feet. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were dressed funny or if you had over dressed, maybe you had a button undone, all while knitting your brows together.

“I can escort you to his office, if you like?” Captain Smith offered, extending his elbow to you. You gladly accepted it, not only to get away from the prying eyes but also to get closer to him. The captain had left an impression on you ever since dinner, his well built figure waltzing through your mind at the most random of times since that evening. When your family mentioned your disgraces to others, generally they tried to offer solutions as they fed into the opinion that your choices had indeed been shortcomings. Erwin or Captain Smith hadn’t done those things, speaking to you rather than about you. Not to mention, he considered you to be admirable and it made you feel warm.

“I would greatly appreciate it.” You responded, a small smile pulling at your lips before gently taking his arm. It was nearly painful how well your body molded to him, unbeknownst to each other that it made your heart pound in your chests. “If I may be so bold.” Captain Smith started and you found yourself holding your breath, looking at the side of his face as you walked. “You look absolutely beautiful today.” You had to look away, to the sky or to the buildings out in the distance in the hopes to calm the warmth of your cheeks.

Erwin found the action endearing, needing to stifle a chuckle at the sweet response. He wasn’t just saying it to get a response, he absolutely meant it. The man was convinced you would look good in a potato sack and it made him feel like a lovesick puppy despite being the age of an old dog.

“Thank you, Captain.” You managed to pull yourself together enough to say. He was so gentlemanly, opening the door for you and gently placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you inside. For such a large man in such a powerful position, he spoke to you with a sweet tone and touched you like you were made of porcelain. It made your thoughts wander more about him, like how his hands would feel cupping your cheeks or how his voice sounded in the early morning… after a long night. You glanced at him once more, taking a deep breath before shaking the thoughts away.

You both stopped in front of the office door and he took a breath before knocking on the door. “Sergeant Major.” His voice was more tense speaking to your father, the weight of the world suddenly sitting on his shoulders. You watched his jaw clench as you waited for an answer, wanting to reach up and run your finger over the harsh line or massage his tense looking shoulders. Such intense feelings for only having seen him twice.

“Come in.” Your father’s voice rang through the wooden door and Sergeant Smith held the door open for you once more. Hand lingering on the small of your back a little longer than before, causing you to train your focus on his eyes rather than the other two sets staring at you.

“Y/N, what a coincidence.” Your father remarked, snatching your attention away. Erwin couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow at the man sitting in front of the Sergeant Major. Jean Kirstein, a young and promising soldier from what Erwin knew. He was an objectively good looking man, with a stature that rivaled his own which was rare. The few times Erwin had spoken to him, he had left a good impression but now Erwin couldn’t help but hate the way he was staring at you. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

“We were just speaking about you.” You nodded in understanding before nodding politely towards the other soldier in front of you. “Y/N, this is Jean Kirstein.” You extended your hand to him and forced a smile as he took it. You knew what this was. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Father, a telegram was delivered to the house and it seemed urgent.” You told him, ignoring the true intentions of the man in front of you. Erwin had to stifle a laugh, he hadn’t quite expected to see you dismiss Jean like this and well, it made him more attracted to you than before.

Jean’s eyes trailed over your body, the way you leaned forward to pass of the telegram, the way you tucked a hair behind your ear and the way you crossed your arms over your chest. He had to stop himself from licking his lips, glancing to the scary dog behind you. Erwin.

He had seen the way he scanned over you and it disgusted him, jaw clenching coupled with a heavy scowl on his face as the younger man locked eyes with him. It brought Erwin great joy to see the man’s or boy’s rather, confidence diminish with a glare.

“Thank you for bringing this to me, was that all?” Your father asked and you nodded your head. “Jean, Y/n, you may both leave. I would appreciate if you could escort her back to the car.” Your father gently told Jean, shoot him a smile that could only be conceived as fake. “Gladly, sir.” Jean smiled, standing up and taking your hand gently. “Captain Smith, if you could stay for a moment.” Erwin had to bite back a frown, he wanted to walk you to your car too and make sure Jean stayed cordial. Though considering your father’s power to make people fear him, he was nearly sure Jean would be keeping his hands to himself.

“What do you think?” The Sergeant Major asked once the door fell shut again. “What do I think?” Erwin repeated, not entirely sure what the Sergeant Major was asking. “Well, you’ve met my daughter. You’ve heard how she is. Don’t you think Jean Kirstein is a good match for her?” The man froze, taking a deep breath before even trying to think of a response. “Kirstein has a good head on his shoulders, seems like he could make a good husband for someone, someday.” Erwin said and exchanged looks with the Sergeant Major. “I understand. I’ll put him on the backburner until after my vacation.” He nodded, returning to his paperwork.

“Before I dismiss you, my wife will kill me if I forget to ask. We are going to our house in the south, by an oceanside town for vacation. It’s small and quiet, it’ll probably be the last vacation as a family. Would you like to join us?”

You loved the vacation house, all the trees surrounding it, the lakes and streams only you knew about and the faint smell of the sea in the air. The town had old bookstores, markets and bakeries on every corner, cafes too. It was home to you, more home than any of the houses given to your family during your father’s deployment. One thing was always certain, the vacation house.

The bright sun made your dress look like it was glowing as you left the house, retrieving the last trunk you had brought with you. The white cotton fabric of your dress was simple but perfect for the great weather. A small gust of wind made the trees rustle and you looked up to the sky, taking a deep breath to inhale the subtle ocean scent. A rumbling engine disturbed your peace, tearing your eyes from the sky and to the path. The car rode down the driveway and pulled up next to your family’s car. You couldn’t help but stand and watch, not having expected any visitors.

“Erwin?” You spoke before realizing you had dropped his title, the shock of seeing him there knocking all the sense out of you. The man walked towards you, chuckling with his hands in his pockets. He lifted one and reached out to pinch your cheeks softly. “You’re lucky I’m on vacation, miss. Y/n.” He smiled and let your face go. Your cheeks were on fire and you found yourself looking past him towards the house. “Sorry, captain.” You apologized, only to feel his hand brush yours. “I was only joking, I’d prefer if you called me Erwin.” He looked different like this, lighter than other days. He was on vacation and looked the part with his white cotton shirt, tucked into tan slacks. His hair wasn’t slicked back for a change and you found your heart pounding in your chest simply by looking at him.

“Erwin.” You whispered to yourself, watching him walk into the house with his bags. You weren’t aware he would be joining your vacation, but you did have a deep fear your father would have invited that Kirstein man. You could see straight through your father’s intentions there and had no desire for it whatsoever.

Deciding not to linger on it all too much, you went on with your plans for the day. Going to one of your favorite spots around the house, the small secluded lake. Your family knew of it’s existence of course, they just didn’t quite enjoy it like you did. It had become your spot and in your spot, you cared very little about being proper.

On your hands and knees, you felt the water of the lake. Taking the moment to admire the way the sun reflected off of the ripples and smiling at it. It was nice and warm and you were absolutely ready for your first soak of the vacation. No one was around anyways, you didn’t look twice before undoing your dress. In nothing but your bra and underwear you waded in the lake, letting your body soak in the sun and the feeling of the nice water. You leaned down, splashing the water around slightly and laughing. This was pure joy for you, with no one around to tell you how to behave or any appearances to keep up.

Erwin knew he shouldn’t be watching you, not like this. He didn’t think you would be in this state when he saw you heading this direction. He simply wanted to explore a little. That’s exactly what he was doing, guilty eyes exploring the delicate white lace coating the intimate parts of your body, the golden cast the sun left on your skin and the pure joy on your face. The water came up to just above your knees and as you splashed it slightly, he watched the droplets on your thighs. Shaking his head, he tore away his stare. This was more wrong than simply finding you interesting and beautiful, he was now lusting over you.

His throat cleared, your head snapping in the direction of the sound. Erwin adjusted his pants before revealing himself to you, watching you scramble out of the water to cover yourself up with the dress. “You told me to call you Erwin, perhaps I should call you peeping Tom instead.” You held the dress over your body, looking at the man with heat rising in your chest and cheeks. “It appears so, I understand. But it wasn’t on purpose. Went to explore my home for the next weeks and stumbled across you. I’m very sorry.” He explained, bowing his head to you in regret. Your body relaxed, your response being more one of surprise rather than fear. Erwin never gave you a bad feeling, not once, not even now as you stood practically bare in front of him.

“Could you be sorry while looking the other way for a moment?” You asked, your tone softening as well. Erwin’s eyebrows raised in realization before laughing and turning around. “Of course.” His broad back faced you as you slipped back into your dress, doing up the buttons before sighing. “Okay, I’m decent again.” You said and watched as he slowly turned around again. You noticed a soft pink tint to his cheeks and found yourself trying not to laugh. You weren’t embarrassed but he certainly was.

“Are you perhaps blushing, Erwin?” You asked, leaning forward to get a little bit of a closer look at his face and to taunt a little. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone here, let alone you in this state…” He noticed your lack of embarrassment and admired it. “Though I assume you weren’t expecting other’s either.” He finished and you nodded, seating yourself in the soft grass. Erwin joined you, leaning back in the grass and propping himself up on his elbow next to you. “My family never comes out here. I don’t think they know I come out here. So yes I wasn’t expecting company to say the least.” You told him, wiggling your bare toes in the grass and looking out over the lake.

Erwin watched you, then turned his gaze to the lake as well. It must have been difficult having your family not accept the way want to live your life, for you to be a woman who wanted to study over marriage at your age. It also seemed like they didn’t approve of the way you carried yourself, which Erwin didn’t understand at all. He would be happy to know the daughter he raised was strong and smart.

The next few days, you hardly saw Erwin at all. He was always being whisked away by your parents to social events or business, despite this having been a vacation for you all. You knew this would happen though, vacations were never such.

“What are your plans today?” His voice was a welcome surprise in the morning as you poured orange juice. You were still in your silk robe, the first one awake in the house that morning as you made your breakfast. Turning around with your glass in hand, you looked at him and his disheveled hair and clothes. It was clear he had rolled over and put the first thing on he could find and you found yourself wondering in what state he normally slept.

“I’m going into to town a little later today. You?” You asked, watching him rub his face. He looked tired, not relaxed at all. “Suppose your parents will be dragging me around all day again.” He put his hands on his hips and looked at you with a raised brow. “If I promise to buy you breakfast, can you get ready in ten minutes and I’ll drive you into town?” His proposal made you laugh and put down your glass. “Is my family driving you that mad, Erwin?” You asked him, watching him throw his head back with a laugh. You took in his jaw line and the way his Adam apple bobbed, thinking about just how nice a day alone with him would be. “Would it be awful if I said yes?” He asked between chuckles. You looked like his angel that morning, every meeting and introduction he had been forced to go through making him want to go back to the base rather than stay. This was not the vacation he was hoping for and as bad as it made him feel, he was going to use you as an out that day.

“Not awful. Completely understandable.” You admitted and let out a sigh. “Breakfast on you, you say.” You fake pondered, taking in his amused expression. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” You smiled and he sighed in relief. “You’re an angel Y/N.” He said softly, taking your hand gently and patting it as a thank you. You could get used to him calling you that and you could get used to seeing him in the morning like this, you could also get used to his hand holding yours.

Another thing you could get used to was the way he looked driving. Window rolled down, arm resting on it as the wind blew through his hair. With one hand on the wheel, for the first time in the last few days he looked relaxed. You couldn’t help but stare at him and take him in. It felt like a date almost, the first one you had been on in a long time with a man you were actually interested in. But it wasn’t a date, it was entertaining your father’s colleague and you knew that. So you swallowed those feelings down, but decided admiring how attractive he was, was perfectly alright.

“Was this the place you mentioned earlier?” Erwin asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked around to see the restaurant and nodded, waiting as he parked. He was a gentleman through and through, not helping with the feeling of it being a date as he opened the car door for you. Taking your hand in his again to help you out the car. “You’re being such a gentleman for someone who stole me away at seven in the morning.” You joked, feeling his hand on the small of your back as you entered the small restaurant. “It’s to make up for doing it for my own benefit. Besides, it’s not every day I get to take a beautiful young lady to breakfast.” Erwin laid his hand flatter against your body, his touches getting more familiar the more he got to know you.

Breakfast lasted longer than anticipated, speaking for a few hours about everything and anything. He liked learning about your family and about the history of the vacation house. He liked learning about you and the reasons you went to college and the reasons you studied what you did. Erwin was finding that he was absolutely taken by you and the more he got to know you, the more he wanted to steal you away to be his.

He told you about himself too, the dangerous missions he had been placed on and the most beautiful places he had been. You liked hearing about his life, his experiences. While you never had the desire to do a job quite as dangerous as him and your father, you did always admire the experiences that came with it. The travelling and meeting people, it made you envious of it all. You liked hearing him speak, watching his eyes as they went through the emotions of talking about his life. You found yourself daydreaming about what it would be like in a more intimate setting, your arms wrapped around him, laying in bed as you comforted him after a long day. It was something no man had ever made you yearn for, no man before him.

“I’ve never quite seen this many books.” He commented, entering the small bookstore you had loved since you were a girl. “Ah, you haven’t seen my room then.” You smiled and continued further into the store. This day was no longer about him getting away from your family, this was about him getting to know you more, even though he knew he couldn’t have you. “If it’s anything as full as this I might not want to.” He joked and you smacked his arm lightly before taking notice of a book with a colorful binding.

“I’ve always loved stories like this.” You remarked, running your fingers over the spine as you read the title. Erwin had never heard of it, not quite having the time to read much with his job. He picked up the book, flipping through the pages and finding himself smiling. “This is a romance book.” He commented, reading through a particularly sweet passage. “Don’t get me wrong, Erwin. I like the intellectual read. However nothing is quite better than a sweet romance book.” You explained, watching him flip through the pages. Erwin looked like he had walked right out of a romance novel, one of your own imagination.

“Suppose I can understand why…” He started and you leaned back against a book shelf. Erwin turned to you, placing an arm on either side of you, the book still in one of his hands. His face was close proximity to yours as he read your expressions, your big eyes staring up at him. “I would be the romantic too if my family kept trying to sell me off to the first suitable man they saw.” His remark made your cheeks get warm. It was an embarrassing situation, one he had undoubtedly heard more about from your father. “Yes, but apparently my personality makes me unsuitable.” Erwin laughed at your words and dropped his arms for you both to continue browsing. “I must argue that I disagree. If anything you’re quite refreshing.” He admitted and you looked at him with a grateful expression.

“I would have asked to marry the evening we met if it seemed like I had a chance.” Erwin thought to himself, watching you browse the books. He found himself picturing the future, days like these with you, holding your hands and spoiling you with books. He could imagine you dressing up beautifully, attending galas with him as he showed you off to the entire room. He even could see your shared home in his mind, maybe even kids. God, he wanted it so bad, he wanted you so bad.

“Erwin, you disappeared today.” Your mother said as dinner was served. “Ah yes, I had some plans in town.” Erwin lied and you found yourself looking to the ground and smiling. It was fun that only you and him knew the truth. “Ah I see. It’s quite alright, I was busy making the starting arrangements for Y/N’s engagement.” Your father said and your eyes shot open in disbelief.

The pure anger you felt in your stomach made you cough and your head dizzy, but what made it worse was knowing you couldn’t do anything about it. “With who?” Your tone was laced anger, anyone could tell and well it was to be expected. “Jean Kirstein.” You knew it, the second the name was said and you fell silent. You knew it. Tears welled up in your eyes and you found yourself looking away from everyone again. Acting out wouldn’t be beneficial, you’d be labelled as dramatic. Crying wouldn’t help either, so you simply bit your lip and pushed all the emotions down.

Erwin felt himself get upset, seeing your face and response. He wasn’t entirely sure what came over himself as he exhaled, going back on all the things he had told himself since he had met you.

“It’s clear that is not what Y/N wants.” Erwin spoke and your father looked at him with furrowed brows. “I know family matters are not my place. But I’m here and I’ve gotten to know her.” He added on and your father opened his mouth to speak. You were still looking away, knowing no objections Erwin would say in your honor could possibly save you from this.

“I would like to marry your daughter.” The room went silent enough that you could hear a pin drop. Your ears were ringing, making it nearly impossible to believe that what he was saying was actually being said. Erwin had been in battles, on the brink of death, in meetings with important officials however, those things didn’t even come close to making his heart pound like this. “I want to marry your daughter. If she’d have me.” He said again, taking note that not even you had responded. He was speaking to your parents, but his eyes were trained on you with each word.

“I have to say Erwin, I’m shocked.” Your mother started and you pushed out of your chair, redirecting the attention to you. Your head hurt, aching with the pain of not having a choice. You also felt a wave of anger or distaste towards Erwin, he made it seem like he understood your pain that morning in the bookstore. Only for him to make this choice without talking to you about it. “I believe I’m going to go to bed.” You said, not responding to anything that was just said. You could hear protests from behind you as you walked away, but it all didn’t matter. Tomorrow you could think rationally, you hoped.

He felt guilty watching you walk away. This wasn’t something he should have done without asking you and he knew that. His gut told him it was the right thing, the signals you gave him, the way you looked at him. He felt foolish for thinking this was something you wanted. It was safe to say that dinner was ruined from that point on.

Walking past your bedroom door, Erwin took notice that it was left open a little and light spilled out of the crack. It wasn’t late at all and you were without a doubt in his mind mulling everything over, he liked to think he knew you well enough for that. He looked inside the room, seeing you in a nightgown sat in front of your vanity, reaching for your hairbrush. He could hear your sniffles and it made an ache settle in his chest. This wasn’t his intention.

“May I come in?” He mustered the courage to ask all while knocking you out of your thoughts. “I suppose.” You responded, toying with the bristles on your hairbrush as you watched him through your mirror. Tears still stained your cheeks and your eyes were slightly red. Your night gown was slightly revealing however Erwin had seen you with less on than that so you ignored it. You were upset with him and that was making it difficult to look at him, even through the mirror.

“I have to apologize to you.” He started, standing a few feet behind you. His blue eyes taking in the way you tried to focus on something else by brushing your hair. “It was impulsive of me to say that during dinner. Though I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t crossed my mind.” You paused your movements for a moment while listening to him. It wasn’t that marrying him hadn’t crossed your mind multiple times while looking at him or speaking with him. He was a great and attractive man and the thought sounded nice. It just angered you that he didn’t even speak with you about this, it made you feel like an object and that’s how you had felt nearly your whole life. You continued brushing your hair trying to work through your own thoughts.

“Can I do that?” Erwin asked, gesturing to your hairbrush. You shrugged and extended the brush to him, waiting as he grabbed a chair to sit behind you. The close proximity behind you made goosebumps coat your skin. “Are you angry with me?” He asked, voice lowering now that he was closer to you. You locked eyes with him through the mirror as he started gently brushing through your hair. “Angry not quite. Upset at the situation, yes.” You admitted and he nodded in understanding. “I understand.”

He continued brushing your hair, trying to do his best to not pull at any knots and be gentle with you. He had never done this before, brushed someone else’s hair but he was adding it to the list of many firsts he wanted to have with you.

“I want these choices to be my own.” You looked down, tears starting to form again. While you were upset, you couldn’t keep it from him. “Hey, hey, look at me.” Erwin used his free hand to move your chin, helping you look at him. His thumb swiped away the tears, taking note of how your eyes were avoiding looking into to his dead on. “You should have talked to me about this first. I thought you were different from the others.” You half mumbled, thinking about your past. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you. I simply believe I misread the signs that I was someone you are interested in.” He said and finally, you looked at him. God you were even beautiful when you cried, it was simply unfair. “You didn’t misread the signs.” You pulled your face from his and turned your back to him once more. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t had the thought.” You admitted and watched as a small smile pulled at his lips, all while he continued brushing your hair.

“Thought about it, huh? What did you think about?” He asked, a slight mischievous tone in his voice. You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. You debated going into detail about how much his voice effected you, or the way he respected your choices practically made you go weak in the knees, when you noticed in the mirror how broad his shoulders were behind you and how he had practically caged you in between his long legs. The goosebumps on your skin seemingly got worse as his hand brushed your practically bare shoulder to move your hair.

“Well?” He asked, accidentally tugging your hair with the brush harshly. You gasped at the sudden feeling, leaning back into his chest and grabbing one of his thighs in response. His free hand grabbed your waist to support you, all the touching making a thick layer of tension fill the room. “I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before.” He chuckled as you looked back at him, his hand still holding you. Your faces were now significantly closer than before and he took note of the tension. The thin strap of your nightgown slipped down your shoulder, drawing his eyes as he reached around you to put the brush down on the vanity. “However, you still didn’t answer me.” He brushed some of your hair from your face, using the back of his hands to feel how warm your cheeks were.

“I’m well aware, that you can take care of yourself. But I want to help.” His hand now held your chin, making sure you couldn’t look away. He wanted you to hear what he was saying, he wanted you to feel it. “Will you let me?” He asked and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your hand gripping his thigh a little harder. “Yes.” Your voice was barely a whisper, not being able to make it any louder.

You shut your eyes and Erwin tilted your chin upwards, softly kissing your lips. It was so gentle, such a ginger touch for such a strong man, leaving you breathless. “Thank you.” He mumbled against your lips, pulling away so you could catch your breath only to kiss you even harder afterwards. You absolutely melted, feeling his teeth graze over your lips as his hand kept your face steady. God, he tasted like a dream. The way his tongue melded against yours making your nails dig into his thigh, you moaned against his lips.

His hand turned your face to look in the mirror, his hand still holding your chin as he looked at you through the glass. “Look at how beautiful you are.” Erwin said, though it seemed more like he was speaking to himself as he kissed the side of your face, trailing his lips down your jaw to your neck. “Such a strong and beautifully intelligent woman.” He added on and the hand on your waist tugging the bottom of your nightgown up. His words were making your chest ache and heat pool in between your legs. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your puffy lips and eyes from all the emotions yet you still felt beautiful, he helped you feel beautiful.

The skin of your thighs was slowly revealed to him, his hands both moving to feel the soft exposed skin. You relaxed in his touch, eyes meeting through the mirror as you let him slowly undress you further. His fingertips grazing the edge of your panties causing a small whimper to leave your lips. He chuckled slightly, enjoying your reactions to his small touches before tugging the fabric up more. Your panties were fully exposed and you could see your midriff in the mirror. Goosebumps coated your skin and you squeezed his thigh again. “Don’t tease me. Please.” You told him, begged him even. “I need you.” You added on and watched as he lifted the fabric even more, exposing your bare breasts to the mirror before pulling the nightgown off of you fully.

It took him no two seconds to cup your breasts in his large hands, feeling you arch against chest. Your skin was so soft under his touch and every little sound you made was music to his ears. “Oh-“ You whimpered, his fingers pinching at your nipples gently and watching every facial expression that graced your features. “I like teasing you. Your facial expressions are worth every second of my time.” He said and kissed your neck once more. “So I’m going to keep going-“ He started, biting you lightly but not hard enough to leave a mark. “Until I think you’re ready for the rest of me.” His words made your stomach do flips, you wanted all of him.

One of his hands spread your legs before sliding under the band of your panties, middle finger slowly drawing circles over your clit. He was now only watching your face, feeling how wet you were all for him as he spread your slick around. Erwin could feel that he was straining in his pants, it had been so long since someone had this affect on him. This was sensitive, you were sensitive in mind and body and he wanted to take his time with both. Slowly stretching you out on his finger, curling in you slowly until you were ready enough for another. His other hand moved from your breasts to your hand, threaded his fingers with yours as you moaned out.

He added another finger, curling them quicker in you and leaving you gasping. You turned your head to his, no longer caring about the sight of yourself in the mirror. He could feel you tightening around his fingers, walls squeezing them as you sounds got louder. Your lips were centimeters from his, silently begging for a kiss and he couldn’t help but comply. Kissing you deeply, taking in your taste as your hand squeezed his. You moaned against his mouth, nearly biting his lip as you came and his fingers continued pumping into you.

“Erwin-“ You mumbled against his lips, trying your hardest not to squirm too much as tears brimmed your eyes. He was overstimulating you, smiling against your lips as you said his name again. “It’s too much.” You whispered, voice already hoarse and he wasn’t anywhere near done with you. He pulled his fingers out of you and you grabbed his hand, raising the digits to your lips to clean them off. He let out a chuckle in surprise at how bold the action was, feeling your tongue swirling around his fingers before he pulled away. Now was when his self discipline started to wear thin.

It took him no 2 seconds to pick you up, princess style in his arms and walk you over to your bed. He placed you down like you were made of glass, looking down at you and your body. He slowly undid the buttons of his shirt before pushing it off of his shoulders and onto the ground, revealing his broad, muscular chest. You sat up on your elbows, watching him, taking every second of him in the same way he did for you. You watched as his fingers nimbly moved, working to take off his belt and undo his slacks to push them down his toned thighs.

“You’re beautiful.” You said softly, meaning the words. Erwin looked at you once more, with a cocked eyebrow before crawling over you. His body was so warm, his large arms encasing you with something you couldn’t describe as anything else other protection. “Don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.” He said softly, tilting your face up to kiss him again. He absolutely couldn’t get enough of you, spreading your legs to wrap around his waist. “Not even when I was young.” He added on and you shook your head with smile. As you opened your mouth to speak again, you could feel his cock heavy against your entrance and you found yourself swallowing thickly.

You hugged his shoulders, pressing your forehead into his as he slowly pushed into you. He knew he had to pace himself, not wanting to hurt you in any way shape or form. He furrowed his brows, shutting his eyes as he slowly slid into you and giving your walls a moment to stretch. He felt you shift under him, your legs trying to close at the pressure of him between them. “Oh-“ You whined, the stretch taking your breath away as your body tried to accommodate him.

Erwin opened his eyes again, wanting to see your face and not being disappointed in the slightest at your expression. “Look at me.” He demanded in the softest tone, his hands now moving to pin your legs to your chest. The change in position made it feel like his cock sat in your stomach and you opened your eyes with a loud moan. “Erwin, I need you to do something, anything, please!” You cried out, your body moving and trying to create more friction. Any pain you had felt before had subsided and now it felt like a cruel joke that he wasn’t moving.

“Shh, shh.” He cooed, hand stroking your face as he tried his best to pace himself. Your begging and tight pussy were making it incredibly hard, together with your soft skin against his, Erwin was properly overstimulated. He slowly thrust his hips, not moving much before gently picking up the pace. Your sighs and moans getting more and more frequent with each roll of his hips. He held your legs with one arm while the other supported his weight by your head, not wanting to crush you in the middle of it all.

“Feels so good.” Your voice shook, his cock brushing every part in you that made your toes curl. It felt so good you could hardly make a noise anymore, mouth agape with nothing coming out. “Look at how good you are, letting me take care of you.” He grumbled, the compliment making your brain even more foggy. You looked down, in between your spread legs and where you two connected. The sight of his cock disappearing inside of you making your walls squeeze him, it had you nearly hypnotized. His pace nearly faltered, seeing you look down at your pussy, watching the way he spread you apart and the way your juices coated him.

“Oh god!” You cried out, orgasm suddenly hitting you like a ton of bricks. Erwin could feel you fluttering around him, still watching the way he fucked you despite your eyes wanting to roll back. Your nails gripped your bedsheets and your legs shook on his shoulders, but his pace didn’t falter. He needed relief himself, seeing and feeling you cum around being almost enough to get him there. Moving your legs once more around his waist, he pressed his chest to yours and fucked you harder. He knew it was a lot for you, watching the way your mouth fell open as you tried to keep eye contact with him. “I know, it’s a lot.” He huffed, deep grunts falling from his lips in between words. He suddenly pulled out of you, making you whimper as you watched his large hand wrap around his cock. Pumping it to the same pace as he had fucked you, he moaned your name as he shot his release over your stomach. His head hung slightly as he lazily pumped his cock, making sure all the tension left his body as he shuddered.

Your stomach was doing flips, missing the feeling of him inside of you and wanting the feeling of him cumming in you even more. Sitting up slightly, you held his face to pull him towards you and giving him a kiss. “Next time do that inside of me.” You told him softly, watching him look at you with an amazed expression. “As much as I would love to see you pregnant with my kids, think it would be wise if we paced ourselves.” His words made your stomach do flips, the thought of your future. The thought of a future being married suddenly didn’t seem so bleak.

When you fell asleep in his arms, Erwin found himself staring at your ceiling. Self indulging in fantasizing about your future as he listened to your breathing. Stroking your bare back as you slept he felt a wave of worry wash over him. He didn’t want to get your hopes up, especially now that you had talked, so he decided it was best to keep the argument he had with your father to himself. He would fix it, he would take care of you.

The warmth in your bed was gone in the morning, making it incredibly difficult for you to get up. Images replaying in your head of the night before, you could feel his tender touches over your skin like a ghost. Even as you washed them away they lingered and as you wandered down the stairs you found your cheeks warm.

“You’re up early.” You remarked, looking at Erwin standing at the window with his cup of coffee in hand. The radio was on quietly, static interfering with the signal slightly as you tucked yourself under his arm. He welcomed your embrace warmly, squeezing you tighter to him as he sipped his coffee. Mornings like this could be something he got used to, even if you reached to take his coffee for a sip. “I had a lot of things to think about.” He told you in return, watching you hold his mug. His fingers played with the fabric of your dress and you hummed along to the tune playing. Moving his hand up your back in the same way he did the night before and sending shivers over your body.

Your father watched from down the hall, your mother not far behind as they came down for breakfast. They would have been lying if they said the sight didn’t make them angry, the argument from the night before still fresh on their minds. The thought of the man they had brought into their home thinking of their daughter in a romantic way making them uneasy. Not to mention the age difference that left them raising questions.

Erwin took your hand after taking the mug from you, making you twirl to the music before bringing you back to his chest. Smiling at the way you looked at him in surprise. “Old dog learning new tricks?” You asked as he swayed you both to the music. “Starting with these jokes now are we?” He asked, hands tickling you slightly as you laughed. “Couldn’t help myself.” You admitted before standing on your toes to give him a kiss.

Your parents often thought you delusional, the studying and reading stories about romance. However even your father could admit that he hadn’t ever seen you this happy, as jarring as it all was. He knew he was hard on you, it was his duty to you as his first born to drive you to be the best you could be. Until that moment, he thought he knew what best for you was. He turned to your mother, looking at his wife before taking a deep breath. “Maybe we were wrong.” Big words coming from a man like him. “Dear, I think you might be right.”

A/N; This is my baby and I'm really proud of it so yuh

also @chicken-fifi thank you for asking to be tagged! I appreciate it

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan smut #erwin smith #erwin smith smut #erwin smith x reader

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mxmparts · 2 years

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youtube

#China CNC turning services custom high quality CNC lathe turned steel parts #china supplier #youtube #CNC turned parts #steel turned parts #lathe turning services China

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cloverdaisies · 5 months

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# THE LOVE POTION

eric sohn x gn!reader/ collab! 007 files w/ @winterchimez

— “you must locate, befriend & kill agent sohn.”

description: the infamous english spy eric sohn! travels into europe searching for an encryption that serves as a communication link for the secret service rival spectre.. it’s sohn’s mission to retrieve the device and return it to safe hands.. however upon arrival his ultimate distraction is you, can you craft the perfect potion that will make 007 fall in love?

genre & warnings: from russia with love! 007 au! 60s au! love triangle! betrayal & romance! mentions of blood! violence! mentions of death/ killing! but no actual character deaths! cursing! alcohol consumption! mentions weapons! kissing & other mildly suggestive themes! pls lmk if i’ve missed anything!

word count: 6k+

a/n: dt: @sohnric happy belated birthday bar 🤍 wellll … what can i say???? this is overdue !! do excuse my hiatus & messy schedule.. i would like to say a massive thank to @winterchimez for inviting me to collab with you for this event !! it REALLY pushed me out of my comfort zone & throughly enjoyed perfecting this plot as much as i could as a big challenge.. sorry for being so late … 🤍 please do go check out the others work for this event which you can find here and enjoy!

Devilishly you smiled to yourself in the mirror as you pulled on your white satin gloves and fastened a thin pearl necklace around your neck.

“Tea?” Your advisor of sorts, Sangyeon, suggested, gesturing a hand towards the teapot with a smile of generosity. “You’ve got a long week ahead, is it not better to relax now y/n?”

Sangyeon was a taller man, with darkish hair and buttery highlights that glimmered with sufficient light source. He wore a long black blazer with tailored trousers and a fitted white shirt to polish him perfectly. He’d been assigned to look over matters concerning your work, making sure you weren’t up to anything suspicious and meet your personal needs when required. Despite him being so helpful, there was something that irked you about his unwavering presence and constant eye over your activity.

Turning your neck ever so slightly, you grimaced letting out a small huff thinking of the mission you’d been proposed a little over the week ago by the organisation higher-ups.

“I suppose so. I mean…” You cleared your throat before chuckling quietly. “It’s going to be hard to fool one of the the top english spies, is it not? I’ve heard he’s a bit of a charmer. I can’t quite understand why I’ve been hired.”

“Quite so. He’s always got company you could say.” Sangyeon laughed in return, pouring the steaming hot tea from the pot with a gentle hand. “That being said, despite his charm you need to be incredibly careful not to reveal anything and stay on your guard at all times.”

“I always am. No man charms me. Id do anything for the mother country.” You reached out to grab the china teacup off it’s saucer and took it to your lips to sip.

“I definitely charm you, don’t I?” He retorted with a sly wink and a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

“Oh you wish.” You scoffed, placing the cup back down and shuddering at the comment before returning to the mirror to fix your appearance. “Besides, I have a dinner party at 8pm and I don’t need your loitering to be dampening my mood. Thank you for the pastries though, you should consider opening a bakery.”

“I’m glad you liked them. I’ll be back to escort you to your car then.” Sangyeon sighed, leaving the hotel suite with a soft close of the door.

꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈・╴﹕꒰ ᐢ📰☕️🎬ᐢ ꒱﹕╴・┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

In England, the sound of a melancholy low trumpet hummed over scene from a street player outside, fading into the open window of a grand office. It was almost sunset, the sky tinting a pale shade of orange amongst dark clouds.

“It’s been 2 days since the killing of that agent they masked as you and you’ve got 3 hours until that flight to Istanbul! Do you understand the consequences if you don’t retrieve that lektor Sohn? That cipher machine connects their entire military intelligence and you’re walking around with a blinking target on your head! ” M recited to Sohn, between his fingers a thick cigar emitting a cloud of heavy smoke.

M, the head of the British Secret service, was addressing what was the assassination attempt of Sohn at a British military facility earlier that week. Sohn had been giving a mission to retrieve a soviet device called the lektor, a cipher machine developed to connect communications.

“I’m very aware, I’ll play my cards right when I get there.” Sohn replied, his lips twisting into a sly smirk as he was being lectured by the higher up.

“Very well.” M sighed rising from his chair, leaving his cigar to rest in a glass dish before retrieving a brief case from the side of his desk. “In that case, there’s 20 rounds of ammunition, flat throwing knives and a 0.25 caliber, rifle that folds it has infrared sight. Use this when you need it and don’t let it out your sight.”

“Thank you very much.” His fingers wrapped around his crystal glass of whiskey, Eric took a sip before inspecting the case with a smug smile. “I best be off.”

꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈・╴﹕꒰ ᐢ📰☕️🎬ᐢ ꒱﹕╴・┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

As the evening settled in Istanbul, the dinner party had began not being invited to sit at the table yourself, you felt quite disappointed your importance in the operation had been significantly swept aside. Upon arrival you quickly recognized a ruddy faced man with a well kept moustache, his hair turning a dark grey with age and was smartly dressed in the cream suit that had been described to you by Sangyeon.

“Hello, I give my deepest apologies for interrupting your conversation. However, I must speak to you in private sir.” You gently tapped on the man’s shoulder, watching him jovially turn with attention.

“Very well, may I ask your name? What can I do for you?” The man answered almost like a store keeper with polite customer service, as if a mask of required kindness had been veiled over his face.

“I’m Y/N, L/N, former agent associated with spectre. I have quite the infatuation with Eric Sohn, I heard he was travelling to the country this evening and I was hoping I could help assist his duties.” You replied opening your eyes like an innocent fawn in attempts to convince your ‘pure’ intentions.

“What’s your interest with Mr. Sohn? How am I meant to trust your being genuine, Y/N, is it?” The head of the British Secret Service in Istanbul spoke softly to you as you chewed at your inner lips nervously. Politely observing your attire, his lips twisting into a curious smile.

Sticking to the script, you began. “I’d be willing to betray this country, for the man has me quite swooned. Therefore, if you would be ever so kind to introduce me to Eric Sohn himself, I’d be ever so grateful. It could get me killed if you tell any other soul.” You spoke eloquently, your demeanour slightly mischievous as you attempted to charm the gentleman.

“If that’s so. I’m sure he’d be happy to meet you.” He returned a smile , turning away from you likely to confront Eric about the matters. Your grin almost resembled that of the cheshire cat, deviously imagining the plans success.

“Aren’t you quite the actor?” The voice of Sangyeon behind you caused you to jolt in fear, in case it was one of the agents unaware of the mission assigned to you.

“You just scared the living day lights out of me, can you not just go jumping out of the shadows at me like that?” You brought your hand out to your chest and let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s what I’m trained to do sweetheart.” He chuckled, patting your head like a lost puppy before pacing himself around to the other side of you.

“Seems your plans going smoothly, you have someone approaching you, west.” He quickly pointed over to where Eric Sohn was with gentleman you spoke to earlier.

It came as no surprise to you that the man was incredibly handsome, his smile as he spoke to the other was just magical it served as almost a charm and worked on people like a spell. It was a smile that evoked emotions inexplicable, love, desire, a false sense of comfort that could easily be used as a weapon for betrayal. It was no wonder he was the most sought after member of the secret service in his country, his looks alone could turn his every target into his puppet. He was smartly dressed like described in a classic black tuxedo, a briefcase slotted into his right hand, his hair an enchanting shade of platinum blonde that emphasised his defined bone structure, a jawline so dangerous it could tear paper.

Almost choking on your previous words that no man could charm you, you gulped slightly, clearing your throat and fixing your posture as he approached.

“Allow me to introduce you to Y/N L/N who I’d briefly mentioned earlier.” The gentleman in the cream attire held out his hand to greet you, gently shaking it with a two hands.

“Hello y/n, I’m Eric Sohn. Its delightful to meet such a gem amongst all these people.” He leaned to great you with a polite kiss on the cheek, gently shaking your hand. Every feeling of morality in your body shuddered, nervously feeling the limbs in your body grow weak almost as if you were one flirtatious comment away from fainting.

“It’s such a divine pleasure to meet you too, I’ve been dying to finally get the chance to meet you in person. I’m such an admirer of you work.” You quickly gathered yourself together and carefully spoke with a soft velvety voice.

“Shall we go for a walk in the gardens?” Eric suggested, his eyebrow raising curiously as he also observed your attire and features.

“I’d be more than glad.” You responded as he held his arm out towards you to link, gently taking your arm and walking you out the grand marble doors.

The night was darker than usual, with a dull moon and stars that twinkled pathetically amongst thick clouds. However the bright lights that had been messily strung across the hedges lit up the the scene warmly. The sound of the blue piano being played from the inside faintly bled out into the garden along with indistinguishable chatter from guests up in the main hall.

“I must ask y/n, what gave you interest in the British Secret Service in the first place?” He began as you walked the side of the grounds arm in arm.

“Well… I felt as if my position in the country wasn’t appreciated enough. I don’t agree with their morale or treatment regarding myself.” You replied gracefully, glancing over to the tidy man. His presence radiated that of a tough masculine self assured nature. He looked at you with suspicion, allowing his guard to remain up like a fence.

“Well it’s in my best interest to not trust your intentions immediately, but I believe the information that resides with you is incredibly valuable to me and my mission.” He took a moment to take a breath before a cocky smirk crawled on to his lips. “Therefore, to test this loyalty of yours. I have to request a map, one of the military base that holds the lektor I’m after. Provide this and you earn my trust, sweetheart.”

You gulped for a moment, you had specifically been told not to leak any intelligence or assist him in anyway. You couldn’t foil his plans by providing a false map either, your hands were tied and even he knew that. Him and his manipulation tactics. He knew sly ways around people, you providing this map would mean surrendering all your loyalty to the secret service and despite having feelings inexplicable for the man beside you, you couldn’t give up what meant most to you. You had to figure out a plan.

“When do you want me to provide this to you?” You attempted the mask the fear that lingered in your throat, strangling your words with thick ropes that made you sound as if you’d seen several ghosts appear before you.

“Tonight, slip it behind the fourth pillar beside the stairs by 10 and I’ll soon be there to pick it up." He smiled, there was something sinister about his words as if he knew that it would be almost impossible for you to hatch a plan within that time.

“Very well, it will be there.” You took a breath momentarily, his warm touch departing you as he proceeded back into the large building. He turned back to you a last time, giving you a sly wink before going upstairs with a bright smile on his lips.

“Are you out of your damn mind? You are aware he’s drawing you right in his trap?” Sangyeon appeared from behind one of the pillars outside, having followed you around the entire time. “He’s not an idiot, he’s trapping you, you providing that map will lead him straight to his plan.”

“Then you best tell them to prepare.” You rolled your eyes, watching his serious dark eyes stare into your conscience. “If I don’t give him this, we lose all trust. He’s not an idiot but perhaps you are, now leave me be.”

You breezed past him, making sure to shoulder check him before making your way back into the hall with a bitter smile on your face. Going into the bathrooms on the left side of the building, you took a pen from your bag and began to map out a rough sketch of the secured military base housing the lektor Sohn was after. Folding it between your fingers, you left the bathroom, discreetly dropping it by the pillar he’d asked you too.

You grabbed a glass of prosecco from one of the many waiters dotted around the function room and joined Sangyeon’s friendly conversation with other associates. Nervously, your attention wavered from the bubbles appearing at the top of the champagne flute, to over your shoulder where Sohn was now making his way behind the pillar.

He walked around it as if he was daydreaming, picking the sheet of paper up and sliding it into his pocket. He gave you a brief smile before proceeding back to his gaggle of officials who’d be overseeing his work in the country.

“I think it’s home time for us.” Sangyeon closed the conversation with a sigh, placing a firm but soft hand on your shoulder. You smiled at the group of men in front of you, before slipping past them arm linked with Sangyeon.

“The officials aren’t pleased with you.” Sangyeon muttered through pursed lips. “However, they understand that you sincerely had no other choice."

"And? Are they preparing?" You replied raising one eyebrow cockily.

"They can't assign enough men to cover the base tomorrow. However if Sohn gets his hands on the device, which is unlikely, they're use as much forces as they can to retrieve it back." Sangyeon sighed at the seemingly idiotic plan, his rough palm wiping the illusion of sweat from his forehead and loosening his slim black tie as you elegantly slipped into the parked Mercedes.

꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈・╴﹕꒰ ᐢ📰☕️🎬ᐢ ꒱﹕╴・┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

The quiet hums of soft jazz fell across the café like a warm blanket, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and a plethora of pastries baked earlier that morning danced through the air as if it were a spritz of expensive perfume. Outside, rain fell like hail, beating the ground like drumbeats and forming puddles that resembled ponds or even lakes.

Upon first encounter it would seem that you had your nose stuck into an edition of wuthering heights your eyes flickering over the nonsensical words, so often turning a page with a dramatic sigh. However, the act of appearing busy wore you out like no other, your fingers rested on the right side of your face with impatient taps.

“Well… What a surprise to see you here!” An almost sarcastic voice sounded as the bell chimed over the café alerting you from the words on the page.

Your eyes snapped to Eric Sohn, neatly dressed as usual in a tuxedo with pin stripes, the outfit missing the blazer but tied together with a waistcoat. If you hadn’t been so stressed about the date, you would have fainted over his rolled up dress shirt that exposed his toned forearms. You would have been a mess, but that’s not the point at hand.

“Well yes, I do enjoy a morning read, you could say.” You smiled, almost grimacing at the script-like conversation. Finding yourself almost upset you had to talk to him that way, wishing you could genuinely talk to the man on a level that wasn’t inevitably leading to the utter destruction of betrayal.

“You seem like you’re away with the fairies this morning, what’s on your mind?” He sat beside you for a moment, his elbows rested on the table behind him. His face was just above your head, eyes looming over you suspiciously.

“I’m just worried.” You replied simply, packing your things into your bag with a short huff. Awaiting you both was Sohn’s plan to breach the military base that very afternoon.

“How so?” He chuckled almost, smile lines breaking out in his cheeks, his grin lighting up his every feature, helping you to climb down from the stool you’d sat on.

“Well, what happens if this doesn’t go to plan?” You looked him in his deep brown eyes that glistened so prettily under the warm lighting, his smile dampening quickly.

“In my way or yours?” He smirked cockily, turning from you to leave the café, briefly turning to check you were following. However, you stood frozen still, what does that mean? Your plan hadn’t worked? Your blood ran cold, he’d truly had you wrapped around his finger, he knew.

“Sorry? I’m not sure what you mean by that.” You laughed the situation off, watching as his pitiful smile broke again, an almost pathetic laugh escaping his lips.

“Don’t play dumb.” He rolled his eyes momentarily, grinning with a hint of mischief to his words. “You and I clearly have our differences. I don’t fall for this entire act you’ve got going on, sugar.”

You felt sweat forming in the palms of your hands, your lips begin to quiver slightly, whilst your tongue felt like it had been duct taped to the roof of your mouth. With a clenched jaw you chose silence, watching him smirk as you stared into the pitiful void in his eyes. His hand ran through the platinum blonde strands of his hair as he sighed, unable to contain his chuckles as he watched you drown in your own psychological mess.

“Instead of being confused, I think it would be more worth while considering siding with me. Why don’t we get you out of this mess of a life you live? You’re ordered around like dog and it’s not fit for a diamond like you.” He sighed pacing around you like a lion playing with its food. “I’ve taken a liking to your dedication, I can see you’re so badly trying to stay loyal to your work but there’s something else you can’t resist.”

You shuddered as his lips hovered over your ears, whispering words of temptation in the most insatiable manner. Your body still frozen in time had not moved an inch from the table you’d been sat at. Warmth rising to your features whilst your stomach rattled around like a brittle old machine in the dry cleaners.

“You know this too. I’m not trying to manipulate you as I have nothing else to gain from your companionship. However, I’m quite fond of you y/n. I think your intelligence is to be treated better.” He shrugged his eyes glistening in a way that presented his words as something genuine, something honest. His praise lit up fireworks in your system, you were on rich compliment away from detonating completely.

“I appreciate your words Mr. Sohn.” You began, clearing your throat gently before continuing. “However, I think you and I are destined to be opposed. I wish you well.”

You fiercely clutched your bag in the warmth of your hand, swiftly rushing to exit the sheer embarrassment of the situation. The once soft sound of harmonic trumpets now sounded like the chaotic thrill of elephants stampeding through the small confinements of the café. It was in no way complimented by the grating sound of a piano keys being smashed in a way that was neither melodic or enjoyable to listen to. Yet before you could grasp the golden handle of the door, you were beckoned back by the honey sweet sound of your name amongst the frightful waves.

“Y/n?” Eric who turned to face you a final time, smiled, not a classic smirk or sinister chuckle, a small smile that made his eyes resemble those of a harmless puppy. “Contact me, if you change your mind.”

You looked back with a blank expression, observing his relaxed demeanour with bitterness lingering heavy on your mind. A bitterness, a feeling of resentment, but what you would do to run away with him if you could. You’d be killed.

The sound of the café bell chime felt almost like the sound of a distant gunshot to Eric, at heart he knew he’d never be able to swoon you in the way he’d hoped. There was a small rose seed sewn into his heart especially for you, he himself resented the way you as intelligent as you were, could be used as shark bait and treated like no more than a sniffer dog. Unusual for him to grow such a soft spot considering you were the enemy in the equation. He sighed, clutching the briefcase he’d been gifted and headed out to do what he came here for in the first place.

The military base was fairly small, observing the blueprints you’d traced for him, his plan was fairly simple. The box-like building was connected to an underground train link, there was no service running for another half an hour, which gave him that much time to secure the lektor and catch the next train inbound.

A small ladder led up to a hatch secured in the bottom of the facility, gently he used his fingers to open it almost silently. Stupidly, the officials thought Sohn would blatantly try to enter the building through the main entrance, a line of armed men waiting behind the doors.

The operations room was a littered with different documents, weapons, machinery, cupboards the only option for Sohn was to scramble through every shelf hoping to find the device wherever it’d been temporarily hidden. Underneath a satin sheet, there was a black box that somehow resembled the demonstration he’d been shown of the device. However, as he opened the box an explosion of smoke popped causing his ears to ring as the distant sound of yelling was heard from the unmanned room. This couldn’t stop Eric, he calmly continued to rake through the drawers as the voices grew louder.

In the bottom drawer, was the box he was looking for, checking once to see that it was not another trap and the actual device. As he pulled it from its case, the sounds of shots hitting the wall behind him caused him to pull a small pistol from his blazer pocket. Shooting back at the guards, neither of them being able to see clearly through the smoke from the trap. Eric crawled to the hatch, lektor huddled close to his chest.

The honking of the steam engine down the tunnel relieved him as he fired up the hatch to warn the soldiers not to come down. With his back against the wall, the train narrowly passed by him with little space to leave. He elbowed one of the windows as it slowed on the tracks, hurling himself onboard one of the carriages. He quickly switched suits, and sealed the device in his briefcase as protocol before exiting the broken room on the carriage and proceeding to another.

A sigh of relief slipped his lips as he sat down with his briefcase beside him, he even decided to purchase a cup of tea for the journey and peacefully kicked his legs up to read a newspaper. At least for the first ten minutes, the sound of his cabin door sliding open alerted him to look up casually from the words on the page. He couldn’t quite explain who the man who stood at the door was, he was familiar but not a man he knew at least. He was dressed a long black tux with brownish hair, his eyes replicated those of fury, aggression, enough to alert Sohn at least.

“Hand it over.” Pulling a gun from the waistband of his tailored black trousers, his face remained blank as Sohn raised his hands in the air with a laugh.

“That’s not very friendly.” Eric tutted, standing up from his seat with the case laying on the seat behind him. As he observed him more carefully the identity of the man began to become less pixelated, funnily enough it’s as if everywhere Sohn went he saw a face like resembling the man in the crowd. “I’m not a fan of stalkers but I’m sure we could settle this with an autograph.”

The joke seemed to land terribly with the other male, his lips curling in disgust as he readjusted his finger over the trigger of the gun in his hand.

“Get over yourself.” The man sneered before looking Sohn directly in the eye with a cold stare. “Your plan is hardly turning out successful, poor y/n came crying to me about your twisted bullshit.”

“Ah yes, now I remember!” Sohn clasped his hands together beginning to pace the small room, the man’s gun latching target to his head. “You’re y/n’s little lap dog! That makes so much more sense, unrequited love, that must be hard for you buddy.”

Sohn’s words cut through him like a knife, the anger boiling through his veins as he struggled to keep his composure. The gun wavering only slightly as his lips pursed furiously.

“I’m more than that buddy.” The unnamed man laughed in a way that attempted to conceal his emotions but instead the line came out as no more than a high pitch croak. “Now hand it over before I turn your brain into several servings of spaghetti.”

“Sangyeon!” The sound of angry footsteps stomping through the corridor alerted the man, however he didn’t take his eyes off Sohn for a second.

“Listen, Sangyeon is it?” Sohn laughed, his voice sounding assertive despite the noise of the rattling train and noisy horns. “I think you better calm down, she won’t be happy with what you’re trying to do here.”

Sangyeon’s gun lowered, just to the point where it was out of sight of the narrow train passage but still somewhat aiming at Sohn.

“What is it?” He called, the relief of Sohn’s face when he saw yours outside of the window was golden. It would have been so tedious attempting to get out of the situation himself.

“I’ve been looking for you all bloody day! Now I found out you’re trying to leave the country? What are-”Your eyes originally blinking in red fury softened into bright pearls upon meeting Eric’s. Then all of a sudden they turned red again as you looked back to Sangyeon with increased suspicion. “Step away from the door.”

Surprisingly he did just that, revealing the gun that was pointed towards Sohn just out the hallway. Eric discreetly took the opportunity to assemble the weapon given to him as Sangyeon’s eyes focused on yours.

“There is no way, I’m letting you kill a man that’s not business to take care of.” You sighed, blocking the doorway and staring into the soulless void of eyes. “Leave here immediately. You’re only gonna end up hurt.”

“Y/N? Are you out of damn mind?” Sangyeon burst out into maniacal laughter almost resembling one of those villains from a popular comic book at the time. “I’ve spent years protecting you and you repay me by - I don’t know - falling in love with the enemy?”

“I am not in love with Mr. Sohn-” You refuted, the lies slipped from your tongue as denial spun its web around the pink mush of your brain. You couldn’t coherently finish the sentence without entering a spiral.

“Really?” Sangyeon eyes flickered with false confusion, his lips breaking out into a scary grin. “Then tell me why I can’t kill him?” He left a pause for you to fill in the space, but as your eyes darted around the room you realised that he was perhaps right. You couldn’t admit that but there was no reason to let Sohn get away with the device needed to connect the entire unions military operations. It was simply ridiculous.

“Thought so.” Sangyeon sighed. “It’s a shame you’d leave me with such a broken heart.” There was a glint of genuine pain in his eyes, underneath the tough exterior. He was always good at concealing his emotions, rarely showing them and acting as enthusiastic as a piece of cardboard most days.

“Leave.” You looked him in the eyes more seriously than you ever had before, you were of course furious with Sangyeon. However, you couldn’t watch him get hurt or at least die trying to defend a union that didn’t even value his work.

“I can’t do that. You know I can’t. You’re going to get us into a situation you don’t know consequences of.” Sangyeon spat his words firm, eyes bulging out of their sockets as if they were signalling your final warning. “I’d do anything to protect you y/n. Now let me.”

With that he pulled your arm out of the way of the door, only to reveal an Eric Sohn that was more than ready to pounce. Sohn tackled Sangyeon, wounding his arm but managing to throw his gun down the other end of the carriage. Sangyeon panicked, attempting to reach for Sohn before he could take your arm. He yelled out for you, the change in his voice causing you to whip your head around as Eric’s sprinting stopped.

“Y/N!! WAIT!” The agonising shriek ran cold through your bones, you gasped turning to the man as he rose from the ground. “Don’t leave. I serve no purpose without you.”

“I love you.”

The scene looked like a shakespearean tragedy, the two men on either side of the carriage looking at you expectantly. Sangyeon the tragic hero, the final villain to be defeated clinging to a last thread of hope that you’d take his hand and run away with him instead. Then on the other hand Sohn, a dream-like protagonist that had fallen in love with an enemy in battle, waiting to ride his horse into into the sunset. Your mind ran codes like a computer, processing your deepest desires battling the virus of conflict that had been hard-wired into your system.

“I can’t, but we will meet again Sangyeon.” You sighed, your love for Sangyeon was purely platonic, forced out of a system that took you for granted and fed you to the sharks. “Leave this line of work as soon as you can, you don’t deserve to be hurt this way. But I have to go.”

Tears welled at Sangyeon’s eyes for the first time in perhaps over a decade, he knew you were right, in fact he didn’t want you to be in danger anymore. Mature, as he always was, he knew your decision was ultimately the right answer. His love for you, was far greater than his selfish desires, but succumbing to your own was the best thing you could do. The only thing he necessarily cared about over his broken heart, was Sohn’s ability to keep you safe - he knew he would. As he clenched his fists watching you and Sohn run into the hills together he smiled, a chuckle leaving his lips, glad you had your happy ending.

“Where is he?” Asked a gaggle of soldiers boarding the train, their rifles over their chests as they marched down the carriage.

“I lost him.” Sangyeon replied, his lies convincing enough to deter the soldiers away from the area, as he weakly stepped off at the last stop of the train. It was a beautiful day outside, a beautiful place to announce his new beginning. He sighed, as he viewed the coast line from the train stop, maybe opening a bakery isn’t a bad idea after all.

꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈・╴﹕꒰ ᐢ📰☕️🎬ᐢ ꒱﹕╴・┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

“You ever visited here before?” Sohn asked, leaning across the canoe as he rowed down the streets, the sunshine lighting up his golden skin.

“Well, I’ve never left the country.” You chuckled, causing his face to light up in amusement as you admired the waters surrounding the city of Venice.

“I thought I’d ask, I’m glad I’m able to provide such a romantic spot for such a beauty like you.” He winked mischievously, laughing as you cringed at his advanced his eyes scrunching into crescent moons.

“Do I have to be worried about all this flirting Mr.Sohn? I’m not falling for any tricks.” Your eyes squinted at him suspiciously, propping your head in the palm of your hand as you leaned across the canoe.

“Well, if this is anything to settle your worries. I’m in a bit of trouble with M for accepting your side quest. He said to me a few years ago that if I let romance get in the way of my missions ever again, I’ll either get myself killed by it or even M himself.” He laughed thinking back to conversation. His eyes that sought out reminiscence in the distance then flickered to meet yours. “When I first met you, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep that promise.”

Melting into his words, you laughed as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks and the irresistible warmth of true love blossom in the pit of your stomach. As your eyes lingered on each others, you observed the beautiful nature of Sohn himself. He was etched in the model of a greek god, you finally validated yourself for falling into his trap, perhaps the love potion you were casting accidentally splashed yourself. For a few moments, Sohn hesitated, leaning closer to you for a moment as you froze. Your brain almost completely malfunctioned as he smiled, lifting your chin with the palm of his hand. Finally pressing your lips to his you smiled to yourself, as the sun began to set in Venice, the once blue sky-line was painted like a canvas with the most vibrant shades oranges and pinks.

Despite your mission abhorrently failing, the feeling of true love and freedom was the most successful ending your desolate heart could have asked for.

Besides, the love potion seemed to be successful.. Eric certainly seemed smitten as your words fell on his ears like sugar, as you talked the past and other interesting things about yourself. Venice seemed like the perfect place to forget your lives, forget how you met and fall in love all over again.

fin. — “you will locate, befriend and fall in love with agent Sohn.”

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mesetacadre · 2 months

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What should be done with royal palaces and the like after revolution? Obviously any extant monarchies will be abolished but I'm curious what you think should be done with the stuff they leave behind

Hi! In the vast majority of cases, as far as I'm aware, the palaces and castles of monarchs were turned into public places for cultural purposes, such as the Winter Palace becoming the Hermitage Museum, its first exposition was on the history of the October revolution, and the private rooms and such were open to the public so they could see the wealth the Tsars had accumulated. Throughout the Soviet era, the emblems of the Tsars and other objects were gradually removed and dispersed to museums throughout the country.

Unless there is a very pressing need to reuse the materials with which these properties are decorated and built, I don't see any reason to blow them up or demolish them or remove them in some way. Palaces specifically are places with a lot of room and usually well communicated, they are ideal for those cultural purposes as well as for the sake of not forgetting the absurd concentration of wealth monarchies accumulate.

In North Korea, for example, although this isn't specifically about the property of a monarchy, they opened the various resorts and villas for the recreational use by the Korean people:

Nonetheless the North Koreans have the right to feel proud of their achievements. In one respect they can claim to surpass their Chinese brothers – their well-equipped social insurance. The Japanese had more health resorts and summer villas in Korea than in China and the present Department of Labor has taken them over. The North Koreans have also a larger amount of publicly owned industry than the nearby Chinese, for Korea was highly industrialized by the Japanese.

In North Korea: First Eye-Witness Report, Anna Louise Strong, 1949

And I think this should be the attitude that has to be taken towards the more lavish properties of the old bourgeoisie/imperialists/monarchy, of putting that wealth in service of the workers whenever possible. Revolutions don't create a blank slate, we are forced to build upon what remains of what came before. And ultimately, it's the workers who should decide what to do with these vestiges of the past. If the workers of Leningrad preferred the Winter Palace to be a museum, who can criticize them? It's not like it brought the Romanovs back ;)

#ask #anon

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mykoreanlove · 1 year

Text

You're sick

The number you have dialed is not in service. Please call again later.

What the actual fuck? Jackson took another puff of his cigarette before reaching for his drink again. She blocked me? She fucking blocked me?! He took another sip of the brown liquor, not even feeling the burn in this throat anymore. The only thing he felt was anger. His eyes were glued to the screen, still unable to process what has happened. How could you block me? I’m Jackson Wang from China for fuck’s sake. He took another long sip sadly accepting the fact that even his fame couldn’t guarantee him a shot at love.

You’re sick. Those were your final words to him. He replayed you saying that hundreds of times. You had that painful look in your reddened eyes, tears straining your flushed cheeks, breath stuck in your throat as you let go of him. Jackson spit out the nastiest things as his ego was taking a blow right there. He watched you pack your stuff and leave his apartment, leaving him for good.

At least you didn’t cheat on him. He smirked devilishly thinking that this was some kind of progress since the girl before you fooled him for weeks on end. But if he was honest with himself it didn’t feel like progress at all. It felt like heartbreak, like suffering, like a never-ending loneliness that has crept into his bones. At this point in his life those feelings felt like a part of him. You were right, he thought to himself, I am sick.

Jackson poured himself another glass as he was remembering the first few weeks he shared with you. He liked the excitement of becoming yours - being glued to his phone eagerly anticipating your texts became normal, having someone to share the highs and lows of his days with felt so natural and you giving him all of your attention made him feel so important.

He adored the passion you elicited in him – staying up most nights to explore your body thrilled him, being the one fucking you brainless turned him on endlessly and cuddling you to sleep while stealing sweet kisses made him domestic.

He loved forming a true connection with you - opening up about his struggles was easy since you’ve always been so empathetic, holding you in his arms under the stars while planning the future seemed logical and falling in love was inevitable, especially for someone as love-addicted as Jackson.

This sweet feeling of love took over his whole being which made him noticeably happier. Jackson finally felt like he was appreciated for who he was as a man and not for being an artist. He didn’t even care that he had to slow down his career, so that he could spend more time with you. He didn’t care about music sales, brand deals or future career options – all he cared about was you.

Until he didn’t.

His mind got pestered with doubts, anxiety clouding his every thought. What if this was too good to be true? What if you left him in the end? What if relationships weren’t just his thing? Could he really neglect his career for you? After all, his career would never wake up and abandon him one day…

Jackson felt himself slipping into old patterns. This was no longer the confident man that you fell for but a coward that shied away from love and gave into fear. Unable to stop his inner demons, he gave into them, turning into a self-sabotaging monster once again. Better hurting you than getting hurt himself, right?

He gulped down the remains of the liquor and let out a desperate sigh. Why did I do this? Why am I so stupid? He ran his hand through his blonde hair, tugging on it as if self-harm would ease his self-inflected pain. He thought about the downfall of your relationship: Joyful calls turned into silence, sweet acts of love turned into egocentric ignorance and soulful connection turned into manipulation. This was no longer a blooming relationship; this was him having his way with you. He controlled you by giving you love if he needed it and tossed you aside if you came too close to him. Jackson often wondered how long you’d play this game with him, how much it took to break you. Turns out that fucking his dancer in front of you did the trick. Crying and arguing got replaced with your silence – this was you being done with him. This was him being left with his sickness – once again.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months

Text

The antitrust case against Apple

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT (Mar 22) in TORONTO, then SUNDAY (Mar 24) with LAURA POITRAS in NYC, then Anaheim, and beyond!

The foundational tenet of "the Cult of Mac" is that buying products from a $3t company makes you a member of an oppressed ethnic minority and therefore every criticism of that corporation is an ethnic slur:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/12/youre-holding-it-wrong/#if-dishwashers-were-iphones

Call it "Apple exceptionalism" – the idea that Apple, alone among the Big Tech firms, is virtuous, and therefore its conduct should be interpreted through that lens of virtue. The wellspring of this virtue is conveniently nebulous, which allows for endless goal-post shifting by members of the Cult of Mac when Apple's sins are made manifest.

Take the claim that Apple is "privacy respecting," which is attributed to Apple's business model of financing its services though cash transactions, rather than by selling it customers to advertisers. This is the (widely misunderstood) crux of the "surveillance capitalism" hypothesis: that capitalism is just fine, but once surveillance is in the mix, capitalism fails.

Apple, then, is said to be a virtuous company because its behavior is disciplined by market forces, unlike its spying rivals, whose ability to "hack our dopamine loops" immobilizes the market's invisible hand with "behavior-shaping" shackles:

http://pluralistic.net/HowToDestroySurveillanceCapitalism

Apple makes a big deal out of its privacy-respecting ethos, and not without some justification. After all, Apple went to the mattresses to fight the FBI when they tried to force Apple to introduced defects into its encryption systems:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/04/fbi-could-have-gotten-san-bernardino-shooters-iphone-leadership-didnt-say

And Apple gave Ios users the power to opt out of Facebook spying with a single click; 96% of its customers took them up on this offer, costing Facebook $10b (one fifth of the pricetag of the metaverse boondoggle!) in a single year (you love to see it):

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2021/02/facebook-makes-the-case-for-activity-tracking-to-ios-14-users-in-new-pop-ups/

Bruce Schneier has a name for this practice: "feudal security." That's when you cede control over your device to a Big Tech warlord whose "walled garden" becomes a fortress that defends you against external threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/08/leona-helmsley-was-a-pioneer/#manorialism

The keyword here is external threats. When Apple itself threatens your privacy, the fortress becomes a prison. The fact that you can't install unapproved apps on your Ios device means that when Apple decides to harm you, you have nowhere to turn. The first Apple customers to discover this were in China. When the Chinese government ordered Apple to remove all working privacy tools from its App Store, the company obliged, rather than risk losing access to its ultra-cheap manufacturing base (Tim Cook's signal accomplishment, the one that vaulted him into the CEO's seat, was figuring out how to offshore Apple manufacturing to China) and hundreds of millions of middle-class consumers:

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-china-apple-vpn/apple-says-it-is-removing-vpn-services-from-china-app-store-idUSKBN1AE0BQ

Killing VPNs and other privacy tools was just for openers. After Apple caved to Beijing, the demands kept coming. Next, Apple willingly backdoored all its Chinese cloud services, so that the Chinese state could plunder its customers' data at will:

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/17/technology/apple-china-censorship-data.html

This was the completely foreseeable consequence of Apple's "curated computing" model: once the company arrogated to itself the power to decide which software you could run on your own computer, it was inevitable that powerful actors – like the Chinese Communist Party – would lean on Apple to exercise that power in service to its goals.

Unsurprisingly, the Chinese state's appetite for deputizing Apple to help with its spying and oppression was not sated by backdooring iCloud and kicking VPNs out of the App Store. As recently as 2022, Apple continued to neuter its tools at the behest of the Chinese state, breaking Airdrop to make it useless for organizing protests in China:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/11/foreseeable-consequences/#airdropped

But the threat of Apple turning on its customers isn't limited to China. While the company has been unwilling to spy on its users on behalf of the US government, it's proven more than willing to compromise its worldwide users' privacy to pad its own profits. Remember when Apple let its users opt out of Facebook surveillance with one click? At the very same time, Apple was spinning up its own commercial surveillance program, spying on Ios customers, gathering the very same data as Facebook, and for the very same purpose: to target ads. When it came to its own surveillance, Apple completely ignored its customers' explicit refusal to consent to spying, spied on them anyway, and lied about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

Here's the thing: even if you believe that Apple has a "corporate personality" that makes it want to do the right thing, that desire to be virtuous is dependent on the constraints Apple faces. The fact that Apple has complete legal and technical control over the hardware it sells – the power to decide who can make software that runs on that hardware, the power to decide who can fix that hardware, the power to decide who can sell parts for that hardware – represents an irresistible temptation to enshittify Apple products.

"Constraints" are the crux of the enshittification hypothesis. The contagion that spread enshittification to every corner of our technological world isn't a newfound sadism or indifference among tech bosses. Those bosses are the same people they've always been – the difference is that today, they are unconstrained.

Having bought, merged or formed a cartel with all their rivals, they don't fear competition (Apple buys 90+ companies per year, and Google pays it an annual $26.3b bribe for default search on its operating systems and programs).

Having captured their regulators, they don't fear fines or other penalties for cheating their customers, workers or suppliers (Apple led the coalition that defeated dozens of Right to Repair bills, year after year, in the late 2010s).

Having wrapped themselves in IP law, they don't fear rivals who make alternative clients, mods, privacy tools or other "adversarial interoperability" tools that disenshittify their products (Apple uses the DMCA, trademark, and other exotic rules to block third-party software, repair, and clients).

True virtue rests not merely in resisting temptation to be wicked, but in recognizing your own weakness and avoiding temptation. As I wrote when Apple embarked on its "curated computing" path, the company would eventually – inevitably – use its power to veto its customers' choices to harm those customers:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

Which is where we're at today. Apple – uniquely among electronics companies – shreds every device that is traded in by its customers, to block third parties from harvesting working components and using them for independent repair:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

Apple engraves microscopic Apple logos on those parts and uses these as the basis for trademark complaints to US customs, to block the re-importation of parts that escape its shredders:

https://repair.eu/news/apple-uses-trademark-law-to-strengthen-its-monopoly-on-repair/

Apple entered into an illegal price-fixing conspiracy with Amazon to prevent used and refurbished devices from being sold in the "world's biggest marketplace":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/10/you-had-one-job/#thats-just-the-as

Why is Apple so opposed to independent repair? Well, they say it's to keep users safe from unscrupulous or incompetent repair technicians (feudal security). But when Tim Cook speaks to his investors, he tells a different story, warning them that the company's profits are threatened by customers who choose to repair (rather than replace) their slippery, fragile glass $1,000 pocket computers (the fortress becomes a prison):

https://www.apple.com/newsroom/2019/01/letter-from-tim-cook-to-apple-investors/

All this adds up to a growing mountain of immortal e-waste, festooned with miniature Apple logos, that our descendants will be dealing with for the next 1,000 years. In the face of this unspeakable crime, Apple engaged in a string of dishonest maneuvers, claiming that it would support independent repair. In 2022, Apple announced a home repair program that turned out to be a laughably absurd con:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/22/apples-cement-overshoes/

Then in 2023, Apple announced a fresh "pro-repair" initiative that, once again, actually blocked repair:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

Let's pause here a moment and remember that Apple once stood for independent repair, and celebrated the independent repair technicians that kept its customers' beloved Macs running:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/29/norwegian-potato-flour-enchiladas/#r2r

Whatever virtue lurks in Apple's corporate personhood, it is no match for the temptation that comes from running a locked-down platform designed to capture IP rights so that it can prevent normal competitive activities, like fixing phones, processing payments, or offering apps.

When Apple rolled out the App Store, Steve Jobs promised that it would save journalism and other forms of "content creation" by finally giving users a way to pay rightsholders. A decade later, that promise has been shattered by the app tax – a 30% rake on every in-app transaction that can't be avoided because Apple will kick your app out of the App Store if you even mention that your customers can pay you via the web in order to avoid giving a third of their content dollars to a hardware manufacturer that contributed nothing to the production of that material:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-must-open-app-stores

Among the apps that Apple also refuses to allow on Ios is third-party browsers. Every Iphone browser is just a reskinned version of Apple's Safari, running on the same antiquated, insecure Webkit browser engine. The fact that Webkit is incomplete and outdated is a feature, not a bug, because it lets Apple block web apps – apps delivered via browsers, rather than app stores:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/13/kitbashed/#app-store-tax

Last month, the EU took aim at Apple's veto over its users' and software vendors' ability to transact with one another. The newly in-effect Digital Markets Act requires Apple to open up both third-party payment processing and third-party app stores. Apple's response to this is the very definition of malicious compliance, a snake's nest of junk-fees, onerous terms of service, and petty punitive measures that all add up to a great, big "Go fuck yourself":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/06/spoil-the-bunch/#dma

But Apple's bullying, privacy invasion, price-gouging and environmental crimes are global, and the EU isn't the only government seeking to end them. They're in the firing line in Japan:

https://asia.nikkei.com/Business/Technology/Japan-to-crack-down-on-Apple-and-Google-app-store-monopolies

And in the UK:

https://www.gov.uk/government/news/cma-wins-appeal-in-apple-case

And now, famously, the US Department of Justice is coming for Apple, with a bold antitrust complaint that strikes at the heart of Apple exceptionalism, the idea that monopoly is safer for users than technological self-determination:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/media/1344546/dl?inline

There's passages in the complaint that read like I wrote them:

Apple wraps itself in a cloak of privacy, security, and consumer preferences to justify its anticompetitive conduct. Indeed, it spends billions on marketing and branding to promote the self-serving premise that only Apple can safeguard consumers’ privacy and security interests. Apple selectively compromises privacy and security interests when doing so is in Apple’s own financial interest—such as degrading the security of text messages, offering governments and certain companies the chance to access more private and secure versions of app stores, or accepting billions of dollars each year for choosing Google as its default search engine when more private options are available. In the end, Apple deploys privacy and security justifications as an elastic shield that can stretch or contract to serve Apple’s financial and business interests.

After all, Apple punishes its customers for communicating with Android users by forcing them to do so without any encryption. When Beeper Mini rolled out an Imessage-compatible Android app that fixed this, giving Iphone owners the privacy Apple says they deserve but denies to them, Apple destroyed Beeper Mini:

https://blog.beeper.com/p/beeper-moving-forward

Tim Cook is on record about this: if you want to securely communicate with an Android user, you must "buy them an Iphone":

https://www.theverge.com/2022/9/7/23342243/tim-cook-apple-rcs-imessage-android-iphone-compatibility

If your friend, family member or customer declines to change mobile operating systems, Tim Cook insists that you must communicate without any privacy or security.

Even where Apple tries for security, it sometimes fails ("security is a process, not a product" -B. Schneier). To be secure in a benevolent dictatorship, it must also be an infallible dictatorship. Apple's far from infallible: Eight generations of Iphones have unpatchable hardware defects:

https://checkm8.info/

And Apple's latest custom chips have secret-leaking, unpatchable vulnerabilities:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/03/hackers-can-extract-secret-encryption-keys-from-apples-mac-chips/

Apple's far from infallible – but they're also far from benevolent. Despite Apple's claims, its hardware, operating system and apps are riddled with deliberate privacy defects, introduce to protect Apple's shareholders at the expense of its customers:

https://proton.me/blog/iphone-privacy

Now, antitrust suits are notoriously hard to make, especially after 40 years of bad-precedent-setting, monopoly-friendly antitrust malpractice. Much of the time, these suits fail because they can't prove that tech bosses intentionally built their monopolies. However, tech is a written culture, one that leaves abundant, indelible records of corporate deliberations. What's more, tech bosses are notoriously prone to bragging about their nefarious intentions, committing them to writing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

Apple is no exception – there's an abundance of written records that establish that Apple deliberately, illegally set out to create and maintain a monopoly:

https://www.wired.com/story/4-internal-apple-emails-helped-doj-build-antitrust-case/

Apple claims that its monopoly is beneficent, used to protect its users, making its products more "elegant" and safe. But when Apple's interests conflict with its customers' safety and privacy – and pocketbooks – Apple always puts itself first, just like every other corporation. In other words: Apple is unexceptional.

The Cult of Mac denies this. They say that no one wants to use a third-party app store, no one wants third-party payments, no one wants third-party repair. This is obviously wrong and trivially disproved: if no Apple customer wanted these things, Apple wouldn't have to go to enormous lengths to prevent them. The only phones that an independent Iphone repair shop fixes are Iphones: which means Iphone owners want independent repair.

The rejoinder from the Cult of Mac is that those Iphone owners shouldn't own Iphones: if they wanted to exercise property rights over their phones, they shouldn't have bought a phone from Apple. This is the "No True Scotsman" fallacy for distraction-rectangles, and moreover, it's impossible to square with Tim Cook's insistence that if you want private communications, you must buy an Iphone.

Apple is unexceptional. It's just another Big Tech monopolist. Rounded corners don't preserve virtue any better than square ones. Any company that is freed from constraints – of competition, regulation and interoperability – will always enshittify. Apple – being unexceptional – is no exception.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/22/reality-distortion-field/#three-trillion-here-three-trillion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

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