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nostalgebraist · 1 year

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Honestly I'm pretty tired of supporting nostalgebraist-autoresponder. Going to wind down the project some time before the end of this year.

Posting this mainly to get the idea out there, I guess.

This project has taken an immense amount of effort from me over the years, and still does, even when it's just in maintenance mode.

Today some mysterious system update (or something) made the model no longer fit on the GPU I normally use for it, despite all the same code and settings on my end.

This exact kind of thing happened once before this year, and I eventually figured it out, but I haven't figured this one out yet. This problem consumed several hours of what was meant to be a relaxing Sunday. Based on past experience, getting to the bottom of the issue would take many more hours.

My options in the short term are to

A. spend (even) more money per unit time, by renting a more powerful GPU to do the same damn thing I know the less powerful one can do (it was doing it this morning!), or

B. silently reduce the context window length by a large amount (and thus the "smartness" of the output, to some degree) to allow the model to fit on the old GPU.

Things like this happen all the time, behind the scenes.

I don't want to be doing this for another year, much less several years. I don't want to be doing it at all.

----

In 2019 and 2020, it was fun to make a GPT-2 autoresponder bot.

[EDIT: I've seen several people misread the previous line and infer that nostalgebraist-autoresponder is still using GPT-2. She isn't, and hasn't been for a long time. Her latest model is a finetuned LLaMA-13B.]

Hardly anyone else was doing anything like it. I wasn't the most qualified person in the world to do it, and I didn't do the best possible job, but who cares? I learned a lot, and the really competent tech bros of 2019 were off doing something else.

And it was fun to watch the bot "pretend to be me" while interacting (mostly) with my actual group of tumblr mutuals.

In 2023, everyone and their grandmother is making some kind of "gen AI" app. They are helped along by a dizzying array of tools, cranked out by hyper-competent tech bros with apparently infinite reserves of free time.

There are so many of these tools and demos. Every week it seems like there are a hundred more; it feels like every day I wake up and am expected to be familiar with a hundred more vaguely nostalgebraist-autoresponder-shaped things.

And every one of them is vastly better-engineered than my own hacky efforts. They build on each other, and reap the accelerating returns.

I've tended to do everything first, ahead of the curve, in my own way. This is what I like doing. Going out into unexplored wilderness, not really knowing what I'm doing, without any maps.

Later, hundreds of others with go to the same place. They'll make maps, and share them. They'll go there again and again, learning to make the expeditions systematically. They'll make an optimized industrial process of it. Meanwhile, I'll be locked in to my own cottage-industry mode of production.

Being the first to do something means you end up eventually being the worst.

----

I had a GPT chatbot in 2019, before GPT-3 existed. I don't think Huggingface Transformers existed, either. I used the primitive tools that were available at the time, and built on them in my own way. These days, it is almost trivial to do the things I did, much better, with standardized tools.

I had a denoising diffusion image generator in 2021, before DALLE-2 or Stable Diffusion or Huggingface Diffusers. I used the primitive tools that were available at the time, and built on them in my own way. These days, it is almost trivial to do the things I did, much better, with standardized tools.

Earlier this year, I was (probably) one the first people to finetune LLaMA. I manually strapped LoRA and 8-bit quantization onto the original codebase, figuring out everything the hard way. It was fun.

Just a few months later, and your grandmother is probably running LLaMA on her toaster as we speak. My homegrown methods look hopelessly antiquated. I think everyone's doing 4-bit quantization now?

(Are they? I can't keep track anymore -- the hyper-competent tech bros are too damn fast. A few months from now the thing will be probably be quantized to -1 bits, somehow. It'll be running in your phone's browser. And it'll be using RLHF, except no, it'll be using some successor to RLHF that everyone's hyping up at the time...)

"You have a GPT chatbot?" someone will ask me. "I assume you're using AutoLangGPTLayerPrompt?"

No, no, I'm not. I'm trying to debug obscure CUDA issues on a Sunday so my bot can carry on talking to a thousand strangers, every one of whom is asking it something like "PENIS PENIS PENIS."

Only I am capable of unplugging the blockage and giving the "PENIS PENIS PENIS" askers the responses they crave. ("Which is ... what, exactly?", one might justly wonder.) No one else would fully understand the nature of the bug. It is special to my own bizarre, antiquated, homegrown system.

I must have one of the longest-running GPT chatbots in existence, by now. Possibly the longest-running one?

I like doing new things. I like hacking through uncharted wilderness. The world of GPT chatbots has long since ceased to provide this kind of value to me.

I want to cede this ground to the LLaMA techbros and the prompt engineers. It is not my wilderness anymore.

I miss wilderness. Maybe I will find a new patch of it, in some new place, that no one cares about yet.

----

Even in 2023, there isn't really anything else out there quite like Frank. But there could be.

If you want to develop some sort of Frank-like thing, there has never been a better time than now. Everyone and their grandmother is doing it.

"But -- but how, exactly?"

Don't ask me. I don't know. This isn't my area anymore.

There has never been a better time to make a GPT chatbot -- for everyone except me, that is.

Ask the techbros, the prompt engineers, the grandmas running OpenChatGPT on their ironing boards. They are doing what I did, faster and easier and better, in their sleep. Ask them.

#nostalgebraist autoresponder meta

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lazyjellyfish300 · 5 days

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(pls + ty) a funny/fluffy lil drabble about miguel working up the courage to finally tell reader he’s spiderman and reader’s like “yeah dude i know” 😭

Hello love! Here ya go!! Hope you like it 😁🥰

I know.

Miguel O'Hara x gn!Reader

CW: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, ANGST, FLUFF

Word count 1.5k

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

------

Miguel's suit dissipates in the bathroom, arriving home late after the police scanner alerted him to a heist at a bank uptown, freezing when he hears a creak and a sleepy groan coming from the bedroom you two shared.

The hour late, during which most diurnal beings would be asleep. Except for him.

He pauses, Adam's apple raised in his throat, until he hears the reassuring silence once more, letting out a deep exhale of relief as he opens the door.

You were tucked into dreamland, or so he thought. Bed dipping slightly with his weight as he got in next to you.

"How was the overtime?" You ask in a groggy voice, still turned away from him.

Alarmed, Miguel looks at your back then down at the floor as if he's calculating something in his head.

Shock, how did you....wait....oh.

He forgot that his cover up lie this time was that they needed him to come in for overtime at the office.

"It was okay." Miguel shifts over to you, laying his arm across your abdomen. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

A smile tugs at your lips. "The office won't be calling tomorrow morning, right?"

Miguel returns a lazy smile at you. He would do everything he can to be there for you to make up for it. Although, it would be a tall ask of Nueva York's unpredictable crime patterns.

"I am sure that they won't." He hums. "I'll have the cinnamon rolls and orange juice ready for your book club tomorrow like I promised."

You feel a grateful buzz in your heart. Even though your boyfriend could be busy, he wasn't forgetful. "Thanks, babe."

He looks down at you, brain wracked with guilt at lying to you again. He knew he couldn't keep you in the dark that much longer. He can't go on lying to you while you did absolutely nothing wrong. You kept his household up and running, did your cute little hobbies and entertained your rowdy group of friends you were always hanging out with, giving him a love that he was certain was never meant to find him in this lifetime, accepting all of his flaws in the messy packaging it came with, never once making him feel bad about who he was or his emotional struggles. You just patiently held his hand and waited for him in your cozy shared bed like you always did.

And how did he repay you? Oh, only by lying to you for the entire six months you were dating about his entire existence. His second secret occupation and double identity as Spider-Man, if his talons and his crimson eyes he hid behind contacts weren't glaringly obvious enough.

His lip trembles as his eyes rake over you, back in dreamland where you belonged. Something about seeing you so tranquil like this made it the final straw for him.

He was going to tell you, tomorrow. And you'd hate him for the rest of your life. Six months of bliss, a mere glimpse into the happy life you could have shared together, all shot down the drain with just two words. You deserved better and he knew it.

Selfishly, though, he kept up the act because the idea of doing life without you would've drained his world of all color and meaning quicker than his door slammed, the closet emptied of all signs of you except the sheets barely clinging to the scent you left behind, your taillights disappearing down his street for the final time while he reeled inside the home you built together from the shock of having all of you and then none of you all at once.

A couple tears fall down his face as he pulls your sleeping frame against his chest, too distraught to sleep. Savoring what it feels like to hold you just one more night before you slip through his fingers and he'll once again know a life where he must go on without it.

----

Since Miguel didn't sleep all night, he had no issues getting up in the morning to slide the cinnamon rolls in the oven. Filling up the fancy pitcher with orange juice he knew you liked to use for the guests for "fancy" occasions.

As he watches you bounce anxiously around the apartment, he feels horrible knowing that he's about to drop this bomb on you right before your friends come over, but he simply can't go another minute without being suffocated by the weight of his secret.

If his heart was going to get utterly destroyed and the one sliver of a fragment of happiness he's ever known in this existence will slip back into the staggering ocean of nothingness, then better to do it now.

Do it now when your friends were on their way, your mind was awake, and you'd be surrounded by everything else you loved in life besides him to fall back on. He figures now will be the best time.

"...Then we need to have the welcome chalkboard on this side so that way when they come in...." You mumble, shuffling to the left and take three steps back. "Okay perfect..."

Miguel clears his throat. "We need to talk..."

"Not now, sweetie....got book club in 20 minutes and no plate settings laid out and goodie bags still in the closet...." Your voice tapers off as you run back into the bedroom.

"Oh, thank you for getting the cinnamon rolls and orange juice by the way!!!"

Miguel hears the police scanner go off. A high speed chase underway in Brooklyn. He curses quietly, then feels his face go white. "Baby?"

"What?!" You snap, slightly irritated and frozen in place, your clothes frazzled, balancing a box of neatly packed goodie bags themed after the book you're reading with some banners and streamers about to fall out of your arms.

Here goes nothing.

"I am Spider-Man."

One of the goodie bags falls to the ground with a thwack.

"And there are 12 inches in a foot." The plastic crinkles as you set the decorations on the countertop, pulling up a chair to tape a banner from one corner of the ceiling to another.

Miguel feels like he's got whiplash. "What...?"

"And my dad's a jerk." You pat a piece of tape to one end of the banner. "Also, smoking tobacco is bad for you!"

Miguel feels like he's in the Twilight Zone as he slowly walks to the couch with invisible math equations floating around his head.

"And the ending of Game of Thrones was a disappointment! And JonBenét Ramsey's family had something to do with her murder! And the Apollo 11 moon landing was the most highly televised event in human history!"

Miguel swallows slowly. "You...you know?"

You walk to where he's sitting, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"In other news, water is wet. Yes, I know, baby. You think I didn't notice your contacts that you always leave by the sink? Or the amazing coincidence that every time there's an Earth shattering event on the news, my boyfriend just happens to be absent? Or when I do turn on the news, a guy with your exact height, build, and cute pair of buns is plastered front and center on the screen? Not many people are six feet nine inches tall, Mig."

Miguel is speechless.

"Also, normal people don't have the police scanner running all day."

Miguel feels like he just jumped out of a plane, and 100 feet right before he was about to splatter all over the pavement, his parachute burst open.

"You're...not mad?"

You sigh. "No, I'm not mad."

You cup his cheek. How could you be mad at a face so sweet as his? Or the fact that your boyfriend's closest thing to a red flag was that he lied about public service and risking his life to save others in his free time.

"I was just waiting for you to be honest with me about it. Please don't ever hold something like that in again." You kiss him and he melts.

"I know what I signed up for when we started dating. I'm in it for the long haul and there's nothing that you could tell me that I wouldn't want to figure out together, okay?"

Miguel breathes a sigh of relief. "I love you..."

"I love you more." You hastily run back to the counter, setting out the goody bags and making the finishing touches to your lovely spread.

"Don't you have a 2006 Chevy Malibu that you need to go apprehend?"

He smiles. You're absolutely right.

---

And as he looks back at the offending vehicle slowly rotating in a circle of his red webs hanging from a tree just 30 minutes later while NYPD scratches their heads and books the driver into jail, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket with a text from you.

We're gonna need more cheese and crackers. Mind "swinging"by the store? 🕸️🕷️😏

The gals adored the cinnamon rolls btw!

Good work, today, Spider-Man! I love you. Make sure you come home to me. ❤️

And from then on, he always would.

----

🖤

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader

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wren-kitchens · 1 month

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so shiver, but shiver with a friend

1034 words

the boat is creaking. that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running. but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so.

this fic exists for two reasons, which are stiff stiffyck's love for qpr elven duo (gem and scar) and also me overthinking scar's wheelchair worldbuilding in the hermitcraft world

this could be a lot better but alas I have been consumed by depression writers block, so honestly i'm just proud this ended up as a finished fic

btw this is one of my first times writing wheelchairs, and whilst it is fantasy so things are gonna be a little different, I would appreciate if someone could tell me if I did something wrong/insensitively!

the boat is creaking.

that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running.

but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so.

anyway, all of this to say that gem is pretty sure someone is on her boat at the middle of the night for what she deeply hopes are not nefarious reasons. although, she cannot think of any reason someone would be sneaking onto her boat at two in the morning—nefarious or otherwise. maybe it's grian trying to lag some things out of her chests? but why on earth he wouldn't do that in the day when she wasn't on board, gem has no clue.

there's a new noise now, one that suggests against the idea of nefarious deeds, but only confuses gem more: a kind of squeaking, like a rubber ring being taken off, or an air mattress being slept on. okay, that doesn’t rule anything out at all, and only serves to make everything far more complicated. who is bringing a rubber something onto her boat at 2am? what is happening here?

overtaken by an amounting curiosity to whatever the hell is actually going on, gem climbs out of bed and pads softly along the floorboards in her slippers to her door. she regrets not installing one of those peepholes, because now she actually has to engage with the something that's happening outside in order to investigate. gem is sure there isn’t anything especially dangerous that could be going on, but she pulls out her sword preemptively as she opens the door slowly to find-

to find..

well, she's not sure what she's found.

"gem!" says a cheery scar, who is. on her boat? how is he on her boat- he uses a wheelchair, and the boat is in the middle of the river.

except- no, hang on, his wheelchair seems to be completely lacking wheels, which gem would argue is the main point of a wheelchair. where the wheels should otherwise be, there are floatation devices—seemingly rubber, which explains the noises gem was hearing earlier—in patented hotguy colours, so she assumes that's intentional. okay, that's- that sure is something.

"you-" gem scrambles for any words to express how bizarre this situation is and fails miserably. "you’re on my boat." is all she manages. void, it is way too late (early?) to be trying to figure this out.

"I am on your boat!" scar says, looking rather proud of himself. it's kind of sweet, to be fair—even as it only adds to the crazy situation. "y’know, I didn't think i’d actually manage it. last time I tried, I sunk."

gem blinks, giving up on making sense of the situation now and letting herself just go with the bizarre. "yeah, I can imagine why scar." she gestures at the rubber wheels (they look a bit like wheels, anyway). "how did you get those?"

"cub helped me!" scar smiles, as if this was a normal conversation to be having. does he even realise how strange this situation is, or is this just normal for him now? "see- you know how my chair has an elytra mode?"

"uh huh."

"well, now it has a swimming mode!" scar says, and he clicks a button on the underside of the seat. within an instant, the floatation devices deflate, replaced swiftly by the regular wheels. "ta da!"

"that- I mean, that's very cool." gem says, and she means it, despite how unenthusiastic she knows she must sound. in her defence, it is the middle of the night. "I just- why are you here?"

something changes in scar's expression immediately, and gem panics a little until scar says meekly, "it- okay, well. now it sounds silly."

gem snorts. "because showing off your inflatable wheelchair at two in the morning is normal?" she tilts her head, and her voice is fond when she says, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

a smile tugs at the corners of scar's lips, and gem feels something warm in her chest to see it. "I know, I know." he hesitates for a second, before giving a huff of exasperation. "I wanted a hug." scar admits, glancing at the floor.

"wh- scar." gem finds herself beginning to smile. "do you really think I would ever turn down a hug from you?"

scars grin is almost shy as he opens his arms, and gem practically falls into them, burying her face in his jacket. man, she has missed hugs from scar; she loves the way they fit together so well, like pieces of a puzzle, perfectly matched to one another. there are very few places where gem feels entirely at home—she's been pretty much everywhere, so she knows what home feels like—and scar is closer to home than any place has ever felt to her.

before she knows it, scar has scooted forward just enough to unbalance her, and she lands on top of him. gem scoffs playfully as scar laughs to himself, holding her closer.

"I can't hug you properly if you’re stood up, y’know." scar mumbles into her hair.

gem rolls her eyes, fond as anything. "well, i’m not complaining." she's quiet for a moment, letting herself appreciate the moment—breathing it all in. "I love you." gem murmurs.

scar squeezes her, and gem can almost hear his smile when he says, "I love you too."

#hermitfic #wren writes #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #geminitay #hermitcraft #please don't tag as ship <3 #elven duo #hermitblr #I can’t figure out any more tags tell me if I need something else GKDHS

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maxknightley · 5 months

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on the one hand I do understand where people are coming from when they respond to The White American Desire For Authentic Culture by going "you already have a culture" and pointing out that this desire often has reactionary undertones

that being said, I think it's largely sidestepping the actual issue, which is that American culture fucking blows chunks. American culture is strip malls and military worship and the elevation of mass-market pablum to Bold Artistic Statements.

and subculture is only partially an escape from this, because most subcultures exist within the same constraints of American culture as a whole; they are captured and redefined by capital on such a frequent basis that it often feels impossible to hold onto them in any meaningful way.

moreover, even the parts of American culture that aren't complete garbage are more or less inextricable from the colonial, imperialist, and racially-stratified history of the country. like, I think of that post that went around a while ago talking about "America sucks but has some good parts," and one of the things it listed was national parks, and people (rightfully!) pointed out that the national park system is fundamentally flawed and tends to shit on indigenous nations by design.

the only thing I can think of that's even sort of an exception is pop culture - jazz and rock music, superhero comics, Hollywood. and all of those are, again, captured and defined by capital, and in one way or another have historically been built on screwing over the artist.

so we come to a position, one way or another, where a lot of people say something like: "I'm alienated. I'm surrounded by traditions and institutions I think are shit; I have no way to meaningfully undermine them, and I can't escape them without effectively destroying my life. the culture I was born into is a gravestone on top of another gravestone, lifeless and miserable, and people are constantly shouting that I should be grateful because it's The Greatest Country In The World."

at that point, one seeks an escape, and I think there are three major routes here.

one is to become a weird lib obsessed with the Real Soul Of America. America is really about the good parts, not the bad parts which outnumber them and which they are built upon.

another is to fixate on the Exotic, for lack of a better word. cultures which you do not have an obvious "connection" to, but which fascinate you or appeal to you. obviously this can be pretty fucking fraught, though I would argue that taking an interest in other cultures is a good thing if you aren't shitty about it. (That's its own conversation.)

the third is to fixate on the culture(s) you feel you "ought to have" had, that which was sacrificed on the altar of whiteness by grandparents or great-grandparents who, frankly, had different concerns. to look at a culture that may still be defined in many ways by cruelty and stratification - the way I would argue most human civilization has been - but that seems to have had something else going on, at least. a culture that may not have been recognizable 500 years ago, but at least it existed.

again, none of these impulses is beyond criticism, and I think it would be naive to say that the last one can't have reactionary undertones. I also doubt these impulses are unique to the USA! alienation is extremely common in today's world, and it's not as though the USA is the only settler state in existence.

what I am saying is more that I think the conditions that lead to these fixations are worth paying attention to, and that dismissing them with "you already have a culture" kind of misses the point in favor of getting in a zinger. people wouldn't want a different culture if they were happy with the one they had. like so many other things, people want one that Doesn't Completely Suck. failing that, they'd probably like to not be defined by any culture at all - but that, tragically, is just as impossible.

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4dbarbie-archive · 11 months

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4dbarbie remix: How to let go of Vanessa

My notes: This is basically a TLDR version of my first 4dbarbie remix post How to realise Self. My original intention for that post was actually to make something like this, a really straightforward (and short lol) practical guide on how to let go of the ego in order to realize Self that I could refer to and apply on a day to day basis. It ended up being a long essay (it was over 3000 words aha) as I decided to go through all her posts and answered asks and found a lot of important information to include so it sort of became more of an educational post (which I'm glad to have made and it helped me understand everything better too!). So anyway, here it is. Pretty much all of the below information was taken from my How to realise Self post (besides the suggested exercises section at the bottom) - I just extracted the more practical guidance outside the explanations to make it.

My personal notes and highlights are in pink for main points and purple for 'action' points.

Just let go of the ego, that’s how simple it is. All you need to fix is your wrong identification. There isn't anyone who couldn’t materialize anything right now if he or she would just let go of identifying as the limited body. 1

Stop thinking you are Vanessa, the thoughts of needing this or that drop away. To change, you need to give up this conviction of being this person. You need to disbelieve. 2 A lot of beliefs are subconscious. "I am a body", "I am Vanessa", "There is a world" are all subconscious, automatic beliefs. Upon investigation you can get rid of any belief (by making them conscious and then dropping them). 14 How do you drop a belief? (see part 1 and part 2)

All you need to do is detach from this form during the day, let life happen as it happens while reminding yourself it's a dream, a dream that doesn't have to be yours. 3

What I recommend you to do is bring your self into focus, become aware of your own existence. See how you function, watch the motives and the results of your actions. Study the prison you have built around yourself because of credulity. By knowing what you are not, you come to know your self. The way back to your self is through refusal and rejection. 4

Leave your mind alone, that is all. Don't go along with it. 5 Thoughts will keep on coming for a while, just now you know they have nothing to do with you. Get into a habit of watching, letting them be but not identifying with them. If you can observe them, it means you are not them. 6

Step away and look (observe). The physical events will go on happening, but by themselves they have no importance. It is your mind alone that matters. When you identify yourself with them, you are their slave, you think you have to act on them. When you stand apart, you are their master 7

Just stop taking the thoughts you don't like for truth or reality. There is no convincing involved, it is all letting go. 8 Doesn't matter what the thought is, leave it alone, ignore it BUT not by force of will, just indifference 9

Start letting go bit by bit, just to see what happens. You won't start "acting crazy" just because you become uninterested in thoughts, I promise 10

You don't need to convince yourself they're unreal, just dismiss them (your thoughts) as not yours. They will disappear more and more through your newfound indifference, then their physical counterparts will, too. Detachment is by doubt and indifference. First you start doubting "the facts", then you become indifferent to the facts, lastly there are no facts anymore and you can establish your own. 9

Your next step will be realizing there is nothing to learn in a dream. You'll find yourself having less and less thoughts, then none at all. Then, only if you want, you will be able to reinstall the mind, now of your choice, and change the dream. 3

All you need is to get rid of the tendency to define your self. All definitions apply to your body only and to its expressions. Once this obsession with the body goes, you will revert to your natural state, spontaneously and effortlessly. 4

Be patient with yourself because you don't lose any time, just get to that place I'm telling you about and then you can just go back in time if you so wish. All worry is pointless! And there is nothing to fear, things just happen, do not claim them as yours for a while. Unclutter your mind, it becomes your servant after you've freed it enough. 11

Reminder: This body and this world are not forced onto you, they exist through your identification with them. Not yours, remember? Repeat. Not yours. You won't lose your mind, you'll only lose your misery. After you've detached, you'll easily shift to as many realities as you want - don't put any on a pedestal of desire, they are equal. See this world and the body as not real first. What is true is only what I AM is identified with, right now this body which is not in that TV show (referring to anon's desire). Correct this first by letting go of thinking it's you. 12

Suggested exercises (not required if you don't want to do it!)

1. Sitting in silence & just being with no thoughts - The whole point of sitting in silence is to realize what you are, pure beingness. Awareness only becomes consciousness when it has an object. The object changes all the time. In consciousness there is movement; awareness by itself is motionless and timeless, here and now. 4

2. Start doubting you'll wake up as Vanessa tomorrow - Not to get it, but consider it actually… What if… I wake up tomorrow and I realize an entire life has been just a dream?! Equal to the one I dreamt last night?! What if you wake up and realize it all was a nightmare that you THOUGHT went on for years and it's just been a few hours... even get scared and terrified about that thought. Better than getting scared about non-reality.

WHAT IN THE WORLD?! That never was... but I felt it so real, I swear I was her?! Yet here you are, awake, and the dream never was.

Do it like that. Doubt that it's anything but a dream as much as possible. 13

Sources:

Citations: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

In-text links: 1, 2, 3, 4

#remix #4dbarbie #nonduality #non duality #nondualism #non dualism

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clarasghosts · 1 year

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i know that the discourse is primarily about whether or not joel made the right call. and that's, of course, a very compelling question. the horror and uncertainty and love in that question make it such a beautiful and profound example of negative capability (at least when you don't immediately jump to and defend and answer).

however, there's another question that only asking the above overlooks. were the fireflies right? i'm going to argue that the answer is no. clearly, this was a group of people who wanted to save the world in anyway they could. but they are also largely a group of people who grew up before the world ended, and so they could only conceive of solutions that they thought could recreate what they lost. marleen says that ellie will still be in danger because the world is still broken; she says it like making a cure will somehow unbreak the world. but the whole series we've seen that the uninfected people were far more frightening than the infected ones. a cure wouldn't suddenly turn the raiders and the slavers and the people like david into good people. it wouldn't give you a fighting edge over them.

ellie was born after the end; the world as it is in the series is her world. for better or worse, it isn't right to sacrifice her in the hopes that you can regain what can never really be gotten back. what the fireflies should have been trying to work out was how to build something better in the world that existed; how to create solutions that look forward and not backward. the people in jackson built something good, even with the issues they still face. bill and frank built something good by opting out of all the miserable systems of power and control around them. if the only change you ever try to make is to return things to some status quo, then you won't really accomplish change.

#if you don't know what negative capability is do yourself a favor and google it; it's beautiful #tlou #tlou spoilers #the last of us #the last of us spoilers #1k

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casinocarpediem · 3 months

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▪︎■☆ Worship⛧🩸 ☆■▪︎

(Part 1.)

☆ 🔞!!VIOLENT AND VULGAR!!🔞

☆ cult!Miguel ohara / forrest monster/cryptid! Reader

☆ a little gift for @miguel-owhora !!

☆ violence is written in this work of FICTION. Things such as infant deaths or death in genera

☆ Hi!!! So I'm sorry for not writing as much but I've been verrrryyyy very busy‼️ (laughs and throws myself off a cliff) any who! Enjoy this little thingy!! I'm still in love with dad's cryptid AU after all this time 💕

°○☆Violence under the cut☆○°

Blood. Metal rust. And other animalistic things that would have a normal camper running for their lives. Then dying. Not out of some beast or an accident. But out of exhaustion. Limbs failing. Eaten away by the very grass of the ground only to be picked up by another predator.

Any normal person would run away. Any normal person would have thought twice before doing something stupid in uncharted woods.

Miguel was different. He was a cunning man. Frighteningly intelligent. Charming and observant and curious. Leave him in the woods with nothing and he's already built a somewhat stable community, sheltered and protected by... something out there. Something unexplainable. Something... you.

This was your forest. From the very beginning. Your memory is hazy of how your form, reeking of the more purer forms of mother nature herself, birthed upon the world to reek order. Not havoc. Not peace. Just a simple balance that you maintained for centuries.

You followed nobody. You didn't need to. And you killed if necessary. Or if you simply wanted. You had free will. Unbound by anything. Literally. Not even any mental constraints could keep you from moving through the night unexpected. Unlike any kind of animal the the world has ever witnessed.

Miguel was a different man. When he came into your forests, the winds tasted like he or his sheep didn't deserve to die. Unlike every other settler or founder who decided to try to poison your grounds.

You let him be. His little village growing with the so called refugees he gathered. Creating houses with the trees surrounding the area.

Surprisingly, they weren't greedy. They didn't chop down every tree they laid their human hands on. Because Miguel didn't allow them to. And you were greatful for that. But you paid no mind to his existence. Other than killing of unwanted organisms. But Miguel, or his sheep never dare trek past the space you let them in. And if they did, they didn't make a mess of their tracks.

Respectfully respecting the environment. Respectfully Respecting you.

Time went on and you continued to observe Miguel and his little underlings carefully. Usually under the darkness of the night. They seemed obedient to Miguel. You could smell a mixture of fear and adoration, and that drew you closer to him. After all, this was your domain. And you had the right to dive deeper into the minds of these obedient critters worshipping you in a way.

One day, Miguel comes along bringing a surprising, pleasant little gift. From out of his own home, he creeps towards the darker shadows of the village. Where the trees grow tall and strong. Uncut and left alone.

An infant. Brought to your feet. An offspring that smells very familiar with Miguel's species. Only, it's cold. It isn't breathing. You can't hear it breathing. Its wrapped in grey sheep's wool and it smells fresh. Like it had died the moment it escape the womb first breaths being its last. And he leaves it there on the mossy rock in front of the trees and walks quickly back to the safety of his own home.

A few hours pass. You're intrigued at the gift. You haven't received such offerings in centuries. So when this, frail human being offers a dead infant like a gift for the altar, your curiosity gets the better of you.

You snatch the child. In yours jaws... or your arms? It could be anything. You were an indescribable creature manifesting the more chaotic sides of nature after all. The little infant, you've seen it all before. Chubby, quite noisy, fragile. And most importantly, delicious. You cannot explain the slightes, but in all of your years of being in this realm, despite not having the needed nutrition you'd usually intake, human offspring has a certain charming flavor. Something you'd feast on with gusto. Maybe it was the fact that through the cycle of life and death, you've always defied both aspects. And the loss of something brought to this world so sudden felt like experiencing the gifts to be caressed upon your tongue. Consumed. And valued.

Miguel does this more often. Leaving you gifts. Little sacrifices. Whether it be piles of wheat or fish. Or, on other days when one of his "sheep" go disobedient, you find their corpse carefully gifted in the same spot on the mossy rock. Like a gift. A gift for your generosity of giving them their home, and protection. Your little gift mauled and torn apart limb by limb and licked ever so viciously. In a graceful matter. Until there was nothing left. Not a spec of blood or bone.

You favored Miguel out of the rest. And it's obvious as to why.

Miguel was a curious man. Perhaps a little too curious, so to say. So when he comes out with his little gift at night rather in the morning and stays there, waiting for you, you waste no time to throw him onto the ground. Your weight practically crushing him. And you bite his neck and drink his blood. A taste of the person who's been so devoted to... amusing you. He tastes like any other ordinary person you've eaten before. Salty. Metallic. A little sweet. But his flavor is laced with sheer utter adoration. Rather than fear. Curiously, you drink a little more. And in fact, he doesn't push you away. He doesn't grab his weapon and attempt to cut your throat. He fully accepts it. He holds you while you take your fill of his own crimson fluid.

And you don't kill him. You leave him there as you disappear into the woods. And he's even more insatiable.

#🤯 writes #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel ohara x mreader #Miguel O'Hara #spiderman 2099 #Monster x reader #monster x human #top reader #dom reader #atsv #atsv Miguel O'Hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse miguel ohara #spiderman: across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #reader

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blingblong55 · 3 months

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The sun and moon-Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

Okay, but I was on TikTok and you’re the only blog I know who really likes Makarov besides me and 🙈😭😫🥰🙈 if you know the audio, that goes like 🎶 me and the devil… walking side by side 🎵 it made me think of him and reader and just, like… idk. Becoming his queen and I just love the idea of him seeing all this (whether he saw it from the beginning or noticed it after a while/before anyone else) potential in you that no one else seemed to, and fosters that in you, making you two a power couple in your little dynasty. He may do the dirty work and have blood on his hands, but you’re just trying to do good and make the world a better place again, even if it’s by any means necessary. Idk. Maybe it’s also bc I also just love hades & persephone sm too and it also gives me the grumpy & sunshine trope as well in a way too but I thought I’d share bc I’ve been loving this thought so much 🥰😭🥰🙈 ---- F!reader, romance/fluff, established!relationship ----

A/N: making this honestly lets me be a little more creative so thank you! I just couldn't stop writing and I think this will be the best I've ever done

Russia is a place known to be cold, and really, for him this is what life is like. For you, on a different side of the world, it's more calm and beautiful.

In the world of cruelty, there exists a power couple like no other. Vladimir Makarov, feared and revered, walks the path of darkness, his hands stained with the blood of many. Yet, beside him stands y/n, his love, the queen of his heart and his guiding light. Together, they forge a new destiny, a dynasty built on strength.

He is a titan among men, commands armies with a flick of his wrist and leaves a trail of destruction in his wake. To stand in front of him, it so is in the presence of death itself yet, there is one who walks beside him, a figure shrouded in mystery and clocked in the endgame of your own making.

Y/n, they call you, a name whispered in hushed tones by those who have glimpsed her fleeting presence. To some, you're a beacon of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness, your mere presence enough to quell the storm raging within Makarov's soul. But who are you, his angel, who holds the heart of the most feared man in the world? Some say you're his queen, his equal in every way, gaze as steely as his own, resolve unshakable in the face of adversity. Others whisper of a love born from the depths of despair, forged in the fires of war, a bond that transcends time and space.

As the world trembles beneath the weight of their combined might, one thing remains certain: where there is Vladimir Makarov, there too shall be y/n, walking side by side, their destinies entwined in a dance of darkness and light, love and war.

Amid chaos and carnage that define their existence, Makarov sits by a window, looking out to the gardens. In the hazy corridors of his mind, he recalls the first time he laid eyes on you, a glimpse of beauty amidst the ugliness of war. "What's her name?" He asks one of his men. You stood before him, gaze unwavering, spirit unbroken. "Y/n, daughter of-" "go away," he says sternly and walks up to you. "As beautiful as day, Y/N," he takes your hand and kisses it. "Who are you?" Oh, that soft voice of yours that melts his cold heart. "Vladimir but you can call me Vovo," his accent rich and smooth.

There is something about you that sets you apart from the rest, that ignited a spark of curiosity within him.

"Makarov, war is on," a man walked into the room. "If you must excuse me dear, I have some…stuff to do," he walks out of the room as if it's just another typical day for him.

Days passed, and you were told to stay indoors since you didn't seem capable of winning a war, much less fighting one. And with one knock on the door, he walks inside, interrupting your train of thought. "C'mon, I'm not letting your beauty rot in this room," he says, extending his hand and you take it without doubt. "Where are we to go?" you ask.

"To battle my dear, but you'll stick beside me," he mentions, guiding you through the dark corridors.

And as he is called back to attention, the beautiful memory fades. As it fades and the present comes crashing back, Makarov is left with a sense of longing, a yearning for a time when the world was simpler, when he and you were just two souls bound together by fate. And though the scars of war may never heal, he takes solace in the knowledge that no matter what the future may hold, he will always have you by his side.

As the years go by, you two navigate the treacherous landscape of warfare. Where his iron fist strikes, you are the steady hand that holds the light for him to come back home.

You've learned a lot from him, from fighting to learning that not all his wrongs are from pure hate and cruelty.

It's a waltz, a dangerous, blood-driven waltz.

In the middle of all the turmoil in their line of work, there are moments of intimacy between you two, moments when they cast aside the weight of their burdens and simply exist in each other's presence. In those fleeting moments, they are not leaders of armies or the rulers of wars but two souls bound together by an unbreakable bond of love and devotion.

And though the world trembles at the sound of your names, Makarov and Y/N stand unwavering, their hearts intertwined in a dance of passion and desire. For in each other, they have found solace in a world consumed by chaos, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounds them.

"Vovo?" you say comfortably in his arms. "Любимая?" (darling) "Will there be a day where this will end?" "Yes, but until then, I'll just keep holding you close," his warm lips meet your forehead.

They've said before that Makarov reigns as a formidable figure, feared and respected by all who cross his path. His domain is a world of shadows and chaos, where darkness reigns supreme and few dare to tread. You, you're a vision of beauty and grace that was consumed by war.

As yet another storm is to come, you and him stand together. "Don't ever leave me, okay?" he pleas. "Like I ever was," you smile.

In the shadows, he lurks and in the sun, you dance. No evil, no war and no man can separate you from the other.

It's beautiful, how you can be so opposite. Vladimir was midnight and you were sunshine. He preferred a dark room and a sunroom. Dark clothes covered him and you with warm and beautiful colours. It's a peculiar kind of love and it's warm. Loving the devil, loving an angel. The same story is told just like Hades and Persephone.

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punkshort · 6 months

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look what we've become - ch.3

Chapter Summary: Joel joins Tommy to meet the Fireflies and set up a trade agreement. They come back to Jackson with more than they expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, mentions of slavery

WC: 5.4K

Series masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: a reminder this story follows a slightly different timeline. Ellie was born pre-outbreak, but she was little when it happened.

Joel couldn't believe the past day and a half really happened. The rollercoaster of emotions you put him through left him stunned and shaken, wondering how he could read everything so fucking wrong. He found himself questioning everything now, replaying conversations, wondering if you had ever alluded to your feelings about marriage and a family that maybe he misread, misconstrued. Twisted and built up in his mind to fit into his stupid fantasy. One, he acknowledged, wasn't even in the forefront of his mind until his brother brought it back up to the surface. And suddenly, he wanted it, too. Like some resentful child who saw another playing with a toy he hadn't paid attention to in months, then demanded it for himself.

But he had thought about it, well before Tommy decided to man up first. He had the ring, but he never did anything with it. Why? Deep down, had he known you wouldn't want that? Was he subconsciously protecting himself by never acting on it? Or was he truly just waiting for the right time?

Even with Tommy's news, he still hadn't come up with a plan to actually ask you to marry him. He just allowed the fantasy to play out between your legs while he continued to make up excuses as to why he was holding off. Maybe it just turned him on to have a secret. Maybe he just wanted to have you, mark you, claim you. He knew he had a bad jealous streak, but would he have let his possessiveness lead him this far off track?

No. There were real reasons why he wanted you to be his wife. You made him want to be a better man. The way you made him feel was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. You brought out sides of him that others, including himself, never knew existed. Good things. You made him believe in happiness again, after his heart had been stomped on, making him treat everyone around him so poorly, even his own family. At a time when he felt so undeserving, you made him feel like the only person in the world. Even back then, he had a hard time believing you could actually care for him, but you saw through his bullshit to the man he was underneath, and you loved him for being him.

You had this way of looking at him like he was capable of anything. And with you by his side, he felt like he really was capable of anything. He did things he never thought possible to keep you both safe, as did you. You killed for each other. Not many people can say that. That meant something. The trauma and pain you both endured for one another had to mean something more. There was no doubt you both had proven what you were willing to do for the other, so it was only natural he wanted to commit himself to you. Say the words, vow to you in front of everyone you knew and loved that he would happily devote himself to you for the rest of his life.

So why didn't you want the same?

Ages ago, when the pair of you stumbled into the hellscape that was Kansas City, his ex, Amy, had mentioned offhandedly that you were only with him for protection. At the time, he shrugged it off, knowing full well it was bullshit just to get under his skin. But now, against his better judgement, he was rethinking those words. Rolling them around in his head, wondering if there was any truth to it.

"You been real quiet," Tommy said, pulling Joel out of his misery, surprised to suddenly find his brother next to him as they made their way on horseback down the mountains. Joel shrugged, averting his gaze ahead to the three other men leading the way.

"You mad at me for puttin' you on patrol yesterday? I'm sorry, Carl got sick and I didn't have anyone else," Tommy continued.

"Nah, it's not that," Joel replied, still staring straight ahead. "Didn't sleep well, is all."

"Ah," Tommy said, a playful smile pulling across his lips. "She send you off with somethin' to remember her by?"

Joel huffed and rolled his shoulders, his anger bubbling below the surface as he thought once again about the night before.

"Not exactly," Joel responded, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Tommy hummed in response but remained quiet, trying to read his brother from the corner of his eye.

"Everythin' alright at home?" he asked, unknowingly hitting the nail on the head, causing Joel to clench the muscles in his stomach, like he was bracing for a punch to the gut.

"It's fine. What's the plan for when we get to this place?" Joel asked, quickly sidestepping the subject, something that was certainly not lost on his younger brother, but Tommy allowed for the change in conversation, anyway.

"We're gonna meet up with their leader, woman named Marlene. They're lookin' mostly for weapons, but they need other stuff, too. They got lots of medicine and first aid to swap. Bill's been runnin' real low on antibiotics, considerin' how fast the town is growin'," Tommy said with a sigh, readjusting in his saddle. "Girls sent me with a list of inventory, highlighted all the stuff we have a surplus of and all the stuff we could use more of. Remind me to thank her for helpin' when we get home," he said, keeping a close eye on Joel's reaction when he referred to you.

"Sure," was all Joel said in response, refusing to let him drudge up the topic. The wound was still too fresh, and he needed time. For the first time in a long time, he had no idea what was going through your head, and it scared the shit out of him.

Was it marriage and kids in general you didn't want, or was it marriage and kids with him?

He should have asked. He should have stayed instead of storming out that night. Instead, he let his emotions get the better of him and left you all alone, likely crying until you fell asleep if your swollen eyes the next morning was any indication. When he saw you, saw the distress etched in your perfect features, he wanted to pull you into his arms and never leave for this fucking trip. And he damn near did just that, until you confirmed it was a false alarm, and his heart was torn all over again. It was then he realized he had been hoping you were pregnant with his child, and there would be no choice but to face the next challenge together. Then he would be able to prove to you that it was a good thing, that you could, in fact, do it. And so could he.

Now, instead, he wasn't even sure where you two stood. You had said you still wanted him before he left, and that gave him hope. Hope that maybe not all was lost, that you could repair the damage that was done and come out stronger in the end for it. That maybe he could, in time, prove to you that he would be a good husband, a good father.

But then, Amy's words crept up in the back of his mind since he left. Somehow, years and years later, the woman still managed to torment him, making him believe he wasn't worthy or good enough to possibly have someone like you. The same way she manipulated him into thinking he deserved to be betrayed by her when they were engaged, that he didn't give enough of himself, that she warned him she needed more and he refused.

He shouldn't have gone on this trip.

"Alright, we're losin' daylight, let's set up camp and get an early start tomorrow," Tommy announced, much to Joel's relief. He didn't want to admit that, just a mere few weeks away from his fortieth birthday, his back and knees were aching like he was a much older man. He slid down from his saddle with an audible groan, then tied his reins around a tree trunk before giving his mare a few loving pats along the crooked white blaze that split her face.

He unbuckled his sleeping bag from the saddle and shouldered his backpack, dropping his belongings unceremoniously to the ground before he and Jake headed out with a couple hatchets to collect some firewood.

He didn't mind Jake so much anymore. He was quiet, kept to himself and, fortunately, didn't seem to harbor any resentment towards him from the time Joel put him in the infirmary for kissing you. His bad temper mixed with his jealousy nearly killed the man.

Afterwards, he thought he lost you.

You left him, asking for time to process what happened, upset that he didn't take your word for it when you promised him the kiss was a misunderstanding, that you handled it. You viewed it as distrust, he viewed it as protection. It wasn't until later that he realized he was harboring his own trauma from failing to protect you from a past sexual assault.

As he carried an armful of firewood back, he reflected on everything you had been through together. The outbreak, your parents, the time you were stabbed, the assault, the breakup, the accident that nearly killed him. Not to mention all the infected and raiders that threatened you both at every turn. Was your relationship strong enough to endure one more massive hurdle?

They were deep in the woods, the terrain favorable. The trees hid the fire well, and the vast, empty land kept infected away. Still, each man took a quick turn overnight to keep watch. It hardly mattered when Eugene gently shook his shoulder, alerting him it was his turn to watch. He can never sleep well when he's away from you, anyway.

Joel was almost grateful when they reached the hospital late in the afternoon the next day. It was the first time in two days he was able to stop thinking about you, his mind swirling with images of your trembling lip and your tear stained cheeks. He frequently wondered what you were doing, if you told Maria or Carrie about your argument. Were you packing up your things? Would he come home to an empty house? He wasn't sure his heart could handle it again.

You said you still wanted him.

You said you loved him.

But he didn't say those things back, and he left.

Even if you were fighting, even if it was the most significant disagreement you've ever had, he still wanted you near. He could never silence that driving force inside him since the outbreak that screamed keep her safe.

When they approached the hospital, they were all searched, weapons confiscated, as expected, before being ushered inside to meet the leader of the strange group called the Fireflies.

Marlene was a taller woman, with a firm jaw and eyes that could look right through you. He could tell right away she was not to be trifled with, that she took her role seriously in this little revolution she was spearheading. Although the people they had met since arriving seemed very intense, he didn't feel threatened. And he usually had a good instinct for those things. Usually.

They were in the hospital cafeteria, the five men, Marlene, plus a few others seated around a large, circular table as Tommy and Marlene exchanged pleasantries, both parties trying to make the other more comfortable. Joel hadn't really been listening. He was scanning the room, watching the guards pace by the doors regularly, the sentries standing watch with their hands resting on their rifles as they watched the exchange from a distance.

A small group of women entered from the door behind him, heading towards the kitchen to begin food preparations. Joel's eyes glanced over the group of four, three middle aged looking women who kept their eyes pinned to the ground, and a young girl with brown hair, tied back away from her face. She didn't look to be a day over thirteen, and she was the only one who looked around the room, her eyes locking with Joel's. He stared at her, his brow slightly furrowed as he tried to assess the situation. She continued to hold his gaze as she followed the other women, and although her body language gave nothing away, Joel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something seemed off.

"Isn't that right, Joel?" Tommy was saying, snapping his attention away from the girl, who he saw in his peripheral disappear behind a door into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry?" he replied, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together on top of the table, trying to look focused.

"I was just sayin' how we know of a few police stations in some small towns that have barely been touched. Wouldn't be much effort for us to get a group together when we get home and go ransack 'em, take just a few days to hit 'em all," Tommy said, his eyes flicking from Joel to Marlene, then back again.

Another trip. More days away from you.

"Yeah," Joel replied, nodding his head and ignoring the pit in his stomach. "It's not enough for an army, but I reckon any little bit helps."

"In the meantime, lemme show you our inventory list. See if anything jumps out at you, and we can work on gettin' those guns," said Tommy as he pulled the list out of his coat pocket and smoothing it out on the table.

Marlene reviewed the list, her dark eyes flicking over the paper quickly with a few hums here and there as she took notes.

"Looks good, but we mostly need weapons," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I could probably do with some fresh vegetables, I think everyone's getting sick of the canned shit. And shampoo. But that hardly is a match for antibiotics." Her eyes shifted back and forth between Joel and Tommy, and the corner of her mouth turned up as an idea hit her.

"I do have another offer, though," she said, leaning forward. "It's not what we discussed, but if you're willing, I could send you home with half a box of penicillin now, and the other half after."

"After... what?" Tommy asked a little hesitantly.

"I'm lacking manpower at the moment. My guys are stretched thin, we're planning a hit on the soldiers at the Boise QZ. I need you to take someone to the hospital base we have in Salt Lake City. It should only take two days to get there, and I just need you to make sure she gets there alive," Marlene said, pressing her pointer finger into the table on the last word for emphasis.

Tommy glanced at the other four men, clearly not expecting to run errands for these people in exchange for medicine. Joel could see the wheels turning in his brother's head before Tommy spoke.

"Show me the meds first," he said to Marlene, and she quickly lifted two fingers up from the table, blindly addressing someone behind her to exit and do as he asked.

"What's the catch?" Joel asked, his defenses going up.

"No catch. Just need to get her out of here and with my other group, and I don't have the time to do it myself," she said with a shrug, but Joel knew better. She was trying to act casual, but he saw her knee bouncing under the table.

He shouldn't have come on his trip.

Once Tommy laid eyes on the unopened vials of medicine, medicine Jackson could really use since Bill, the town doctor, had been rationing enough as it is, Joel knew his decision was made.

"Done," Tommy said with a nod, extending his arm to shake Marlene's hand, which she eagerly reached out to do.

"Tommy," Joel said quietly, annoyed his brother didn't run the decision by the group first.

"Give me a little bit. I'll go talk to her so you can hit the road right away. John, please give these gentleman half the box of penicillin," Marlene said as she pushed her chair back, the legs making an awful screech against the dirty, linoleum floor. "Dinner is about to be served, please help yourselves as my guests," she added over her shoulder, leaving the dining hall.

"Tommy," Joel tried again, finally pulling his brother's attention. "A word?"

He led Tommy a ways away from the table so their conversation couldn't be overheard.

"What're you thinkin'?" Joel asked him, hands on his hips. "We don't do things like this."

"I know, Joel, but we're already out here, what's the harm? It's just a few more days," he said.

"I can't do a few more days, I need to get home," Joel replied, raking his fingers through his hair anxiously.

"I'll send Jesse and Jake back to let the girls know we'll be a little longer-"

"Goddamnit, Tommy, no!" Joel said, louder than he anticipated, a few heads from the table turning to glance his way.

"Jackson needs this medicine, what the hell's gotten into you?" Tommy asked with a frown, shifting his weight as he tried to read his brother's face.

Before he could reply, Marlene reentered the room alone, motioning for the two brothers to join her back at the table.

"Ellie's working in the kitchen, once dinner is over I'll send her to change and gather her things," Marlene said.

"Not a problem," said Tommy as he sat back down.

"Is that true?" Marlene asked, her lips pressed in a thin line as she held Joel's gaze, waiting for him to answer. He took a deep breath through his nose and crossed his arms.

"Yeah, not a problem," Joel replied bitterly.

Joel ate his meal quickly, desperate to finish this ridiculous task so he could get home. The longer he was away from you, the stronger his paranoia became. With each passing hour, he could almost feel the chasm between you growing, and he was beginning to convince himself there was no repairing the damage that was done. On both sides. Communication had never been his strong suit, but he thought he was getting better at it the past few years. Why did he go on this trip?

His eyes flicked up from his empty plate to see Marlene heading their way with the young girl he saw earlier in tow. His anger flared deep in his belly again, and he elbowed Tommy in the ribs to mutter angrily "she didn't mention it was a fuckin' kid" before Marlene could overhear.

"Ellie, these are the men I told you about. They're going to take you to Salt Lake City like we discussed," Marlene said, her hand resting on the girl's back. Joel eyed her carefully, noticing how tense her shoulders looked as she regarded the five men in front of her. His eyes drifted back to Marlene, wondering why on earth she was willing to leave this young girl with five strange men without a second thought. He decided she either was very desperate, or didn't care much for the girl.

Ellie readjusted her backpack on her shoulders and yanked on the edges of her long sleeved shirt, squaring her jaw as she stared them all down. Marlene crouched down to the girl's level and rested her hands on her shoulders.

"Remember what I told you. Listen to them, and everything will be fine," Marlene said, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. Ellie nodded, nostrils flaring before Marlene stood up to address Tommy.

"You need a map?"

"Nah, we got maps," Tommy said with a shake of his head. "This group know when we get there to give us the rest of the payment?"

"I'll radio the leader over there once you leave, let her know the deal," Marlene replied, stretching her arm out again to shake Tommy's hand.

"Alright, then," said Tommy, looking back down at Ellie and shooting her a small smile, trying to make her feel more comfortable. "You ready?"

"Yeah," she said, taking a deep breath and following Tommy out of the cafeteria.

They collected their weapons at the entrance before heading out, Ellie joining Tommy on the back of his horse. They didn't make it very far before the sun began to dip behind the trees and a quiet place was found to make camp for the night.

After getting a fire going, Tommy sat down in the dirt next to Joel, who had been leaning against a small oak tree, sipping from his flask and staring into the flames. The other three men were quietly playing a game of poker across from them, the occasional laugh or taunt floating in the air, while Ellie busied herself with a worn, paperback book further away from the rest.

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on yet?" Tommy asked, taking out his own flask.

"Nothin's goin' on," Joel replied gruffly, eyes trained on the fire.

"What's makin' you feel like you need to get home so bad?" he pressed. Joel felt that anger swelling inside him again, up his stomach and through his chest, and for a moment he wondered if Tommy knew. That maybe you told Maria and she let something slip.

"I told you, it's nothin'," he snarled, taking another sip from his flask and letting his eyes drift over to the girl. "Just wish I knew you were signin' me up to be a goddamn babysitter before comin' on this fuckin' trip."

"I can hear you, you know," Ellie said, her eyes never leaving the pages of her book.

"Good," Joel said, jutting his chin towards her, finally finding something to take his anger out on. "What's your deal, anyway?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, sitting upright and letting her book fall to her lap, a flash of stubbornness not unlike his own reflecting in her eyes.

"Try me," Joel argued, his jaw clenching. Ellie glared at him, silence falling over the camp as everyone waited for her to speak. She opened her mouth, then thought better of it, clamping it shut and casting her eyes down. Joel scoffed, not ready to let the topic go just yet. Angry that this child was keeping him from home, from you. Angry that his brother agreed to it, like a fool.

"C'mon now, let's hear it. What makes you so fuckin' special?"

"Joel," Tommy said under his breath, a warning, reminding him to watch his language, that she was just a kid.

"Why should I bother? You're all the same, anyway! No one ever listens to me, 'cause I'm just some kid, right? No one-" she cut herself off, stopping herself before she said too much.

"Who's all the same?" Tommy asked gently, trying to coax the information out of her. She shrugged and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"The people Marlene hires. Dragging me all over the country like I'm... whatever," she said, stopping herself yet again.

"So this ain't the first time Marlene sent you off with a bunch of strange men?" Joel asked, the edge still in his tone but he could feel his resolve softening, somehow feeling bad for this little girl despite his own problems.

"No," was all she offered, glaring at Joel again.

"Are you in some sort of trouble, kid?" Eugene's voice asked from across the fire. The silence that followed was deafening, only the crackle from the fire filling the air. Ellie's eyes shot over to Eugene, looking him up and down, trying to keep up her steely resolve before giving up and turning her back on the group, announcing she was going to bed, and burying herself in the sleeping bag that was way too big for her.

Joel stared at the back of her head, trying to connect the dots with the context he had available to him, but he couldn't figure it out. Tommy shifted next to him, clearly lost in his own thoughts, as well. Wondering for the first time if he had gotten them all in over their heads.

The following morning, Tommy sent Jake and Jesse back home to let everyone know they were going to be a few days late. The three remaining men and Ellie packed up their supplies early, hitting the trail as soon as possible, ready to make a dent in the long road ahead. Eugene led the way, followed by Tommy, then Joel brought up the rear, his eyes burning holes in the back of Ellie's head as she clung to Tommy's denim jacket to keep her balance on the back of his horse.

Joel chewed the inside of his cheek, still feeling bitter, about everything. You, Tommy, Ellie. All of it. Since he couldn't get to you, and Tommy already got him in too deep, he chose to direct his energy towards Ellie when they took a break midday.

"Marlene send you with any food, or are you takin' that from us, too?" Joel asked, sitting down on a fallen tree trunk with a groan.

"I have food. And what else could I have possibly taken from you?" Ellie replied curtly, sitting further down the log as she opened her pack to fish out some granola bars.

"Time," Joel snapped. "And we don't even know why we're doin' it."

"Isn't Marlene paying you guys?" she replied with a huff. Tommy's eyes toggled back and forth between Joel and Ellie, becoming exasperated with the constant bickering.

"Can you just drop it, Joel?" Tommy asked. "Who cares? It's an easy gig, and we get meds out of it."

"Oh, she's giving you meds? Wow, she must be really desperate," Ellie chimed in.

"Alright, I've had enough," Joel said, standing up to tower over the girl. "Spit it out. What're we doin' here?"

"Fine, Joel," she said, stretching out each syllable before standing up, fists clenched at her sides. The way she said his name set his teeth on edge. "You wanna know how you're helping slavers move cargo? That the answer you're looking for?"

The three men froze, clearly not expecting that. Tommy stood up now, his head swiveling between Eugene and Joel as he processed the information just dropped on them.

"Wait-" Tommy said, stretching his arm out to Ellie, but she cut him off.

"Yeah, that's right. You still think this is a pain for you?" she snapped, glaring at Joel even though Tommy was the one who spoke.

"Stop!" Joel shouted, holding his hands up in the air as silence fell over the camp. He pointed his finger to Ellie.

"You. Explain. Now."

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose as he silently listened to Ellie tell her story. Her parents were dead. She was taken from her aunt and uncle's house at a young age, forced into slavery for the past few years: laundry, cooking, cleaning. Sometimes for twelve hours a day. Said she's been with the Fireflies a long time, that they keep moving her from base to base but she claimed she didn't know why. Joel had to wonder how much of what she was saying was the truth. There was no doubt something was happening at that hospital, but slaves? Something just didn't add up.

When she finished her story, she nervously glanced around at the men, waiting for one of them to say something. Tommy sighed and motioned to the woods.

"We need to talk about this. Privately," Tommy said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie. "You stay here."

"Fine. Not like I can make it on my own out there, anyway," she said with a snort. She picked up a stick from the ground and began drawing into the loose dirt at her feet.

"We're takin' her back, givin' back the meds, and goin' home," Joel said the moment they were out of earshot. Tommy shook his head.

"Joel-"

"This is enough, Tommy! This ain't our business. Any other option here puts the whole town at risk, puts Maria at risk, puts-" he stopped himself, biting his tongue before saying your name. He hadn't thought about you for the past half hour. A new record.

Tommy wasn't an idiot. He knew something was going on, but he couldn't focus on it, having a much bigger problem to sort out.

"She's a kid. We can't take her back, and we can't take her to Salt Lake City. It ain't right," said Tommy gently, hoping he would make his brother see through whatever was plaguing his mind and look at the bigger picture. Joel frowned and glared at the grass below his boots, clenching and unclenching his jaw as his mind struggled to wrap itself around the situation.

"Eugene?" Tommy said, turning to raise his eyebrows at the older, and suspiciously quiet, man. Eugene sighed, dropping his shoulders like he was carrying an enormous weight.

"I agree with Tommy," he said, and Joel spun on his heel, angrily pacing a few feet away to take some deep breaths.

"So, what? We take her to Jackson? We don't show people where we live for a fuckin' reason," Joel reminded them, his back still turned on the two men.

"We take her back, just a bit, til we can find where her aunt and uncle were livin', and we'll take her back home," Tommy said, the gears in his head turning as he formulated the plan on the spot. "In the meantime, we tell the Fireflies she ran off in the middle of the night. Maybe if we can get those guns to 'em, we can still keep the antibiotics."

Joel scoffed and shook his head, turning around to glare at his younger brother.

"This is stupid and risky. Lyin' to those people don't seem like a good move to me."

"Yeah, well, it's the only move we got, Joel. Otherwise, we're just as bad as them," said Tommy, his eyes drifting through the trees to make sure Ellie was still perched on the log where they left her. "I won't ask you to help take her back to her family."

"Damn right, you won't," Joel muttered, rolling his shoulders angrily. He stared off in the direction of Ellie, his jaw ticking off to the side with his hands on his hips, lost in thought.

He shouldn't have gone on this trip.

"Alright, is it settled, then? Can we hit the road, go back home?" Eugene asked, clearly tired of the bickering. Joel glared at the other two men before stomping back over to Ellie, who stood when she heard the men approaching, eyes flicking to each of their faces. Joel brushed past her to scoop up his bag from the ground and jumped back up on his horse with a grunt. At least he won't have to be away from you any longer. Not that he was sure what to even say, he just knew he needed to see you.

"C'mon, kid. We're takin' you to our town," Tommy said, motioning for her to grab her things and follow him to his horse.

"Really?" she asked excitedly, a small smile playing on her face for the first time.

"'Til we can get you back to your family, yeah," he replied, holding an arm out to help her scramble up the back of his horse.

Joel remained quiet the next day and a half, inwardly brooding about the potential blowback from taking this kid, which then morphed into nerves when he realized he was a few hours away from seeing you again.

When they arrived through the gates of Jackson, he didn't watch Ellie's eyes light up when she first saw the town, the people, the animals, kids her age playing. Maybe if he wasn't so focused on searching for your face in the small crowd that welcomed them back, then he would have seen how happy Ellie was. How, for maybe the first time in years, she felt a spark of hope. Maybe if he wasn't so focused on the ache in his chest when he didn't see you, it wouldn't have come as a surprise when Ellie snuck off the first chance she got, bobbing and weaving down the busy street, eager to see what the town had to offer.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo - lmk if I missed anyone or if you want to be removed

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xenocorner · 3 months

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(If you're someone who enjoys my work, and also happens to like/support AI generated images, please give this a read? Just hear me out, please. This is not a bashing post, I promise. It's not pro-ai either though. But please hear me out)

This whole AI art stuff is just getting... Honestly exhausting. If you are someone who supports AI generated images, I beg of you, hear me out? I'm not here to bash, to say you're a bad person or a thief. I know it's more complex than that. I'm just, trying to express how I feel about this whole ordeal. I'm not here to get angry either. I don't have the energy for that. I'm also not trying to change your mind. Just, hopefully help you see/feel a different perspective? That's all.

Long rant under the cut because. There's a lot.

I'm not even angry anymore. I don't have the energy for that. But I keep seeing AI images all over, everywhere. The thing is getting better (because of course it is). And I see more and more people support it. And sometimes those people are also artists or people who like art and support artists.

And then I also see artists be laid off. I see how it gets harder and harder to make a break in the industry. And even after you make it you get laid off because... People don't wanna bother with it anymore. Corps would rather cut costs.

And then I see people defend AI images. Say it's okay, that it isn't stealing from artists, that it is just a tool, ignoring a huge part of the problem (whether willfully or not).

And it just makes me so incredibly sad. So utterly devastated.

I was angry. I really used to be angry. I'm just hurt now. Hopeless for the future. And tired. Really really damn tired.

Tired of artists having to justify their existance in the professional world. Tired of people just saying... No.

No, you don't get to thrive. And you're selfish and entitled for wanting to thrive. No, you don't get to feel hurt when your work gets scrapped without your permission to feed a data base designed to replace you. No, you don't get a say in this. Don't like? Bohoo, don't see.

Well, how can I not see when this issue directly affects how I live? How can I not see when this issue affects my future? It's not just a matter of "Don't like x kind of content, don't interact with it". It really is not. I really wish it was, I wish it was that simple. But it's not. Because this is not something like a ship or a trope that one can ignore and not be affected. This is like trying to ignore a dumpster fire in your neighborhood. Yeah, you can avoid looking at it. You can avoid talking about it. But the smoke is still getting into your house. You're still breathing it. It's still hurting you. It will have effects on your life, whether you like it or not.

I threw away 12 years of my life building up my skill to work in a field that feels like it's dying out. Am I (and countless other artists) just supposed to start over? How? Time is unforgiving.

Bohoo for your bad choices, suck it up. Your fault for pursuing art as a career.

Was I supposed to just, KNOW, somehow, that the career I choose, that used to be viable, would just... Take this turn? Was I supposed to have a 10 year look into the the future?

You should create for the joy of creating!

I do. I love creating. I love making people happy with my work. Work I spent years perfecting. It's the most beautiful feeling in the world to know that someone smiled or cried or felt something because of something I did. It makes me smile and cry too.

But I also like to be able to eat. To have a roof. To pay for my meds. And the joy of creating honestly dwindles each time I see people talk about AI images the same way they talk about a painting in the Louvure.

Becaus they do. I've seen people talk about images generated by a machine (built upon stealing artwork from unconsenting artists) like they're the work of God. And they write such beautiful things too. And I'm left baffled, confused, uneasy.

And then I go to see artists, living, breathing, feeling artists, who create marvelous pieces, who pour their heart into their work, who shed sweat blood and tears to get their skills to where they are, who are still shedding sweat blood and tears to keep improving... And they don't even get a 'nice'. They've been job searching for 3 years. They can't get a steady flow of commissions. They're scrambling to be able to get a table at a con.

And it hurts to my very core.

It hurts in a place I don't even know how to describe, because it's so deep and so personal and so raw that I don't think there's a name for it.

I love art. I love it so damn much. I love making it, I love sharing it, I love teaching it.

I think many other people love art too. I think many other people who love art don't even consciously realize they do.

And it hurts seeing art just... Become this.

It hurts seeing the artistic souls of this earth be pushed down and down again and again over and over and be told to just. To just suck it up.

To die off.

Because when people support AI images, they are telling us to die off. It feels like they are telling us to die off.

And I don't think the people who do realize it at all, because a lot of people who support AI images are not bad people. They are not. They enjoy art too. But they are, consiously or not, directly or indirectly, hurting the artists whose work made the data base AI generators use possible.

They're telling us to die off because they already have our work. And they can use it to generate new, regurgitated work faster, cheaper. They don't need us. So while they may like what us, artists, do, they're feeding a system that is killing us off. Both metaphorically and literally. Metaphorically by killing the will to create. Literally by taking our living off of us (or at least to those who's art is their living. Like myself).

And again.

It hurts so damn much.

And I don't think a lot of people manage to see the hurt past all the anger.

I, personally, have grown exhausted and there's no anger left in me, only sad and hurt.

But I promise you, behind every angry and fighting and barking and bitting artists there is out there, there's hurt. There's some form of hurt behind each and every one of them. Of us.

I really hope this reaches the right people. Whether that be a fellow artists struggling to get their feelings into words to let them know they're not alone. Or someone who supports AI images, and supports artists too, and can maybe get a glimpse into a side of this whole issue. Not necessarily to change their mind but, maybe help them understand better where all the anger from artists may be coming from.

Please, I'm not here to start any fights or debates. I really am not. I just need to get this sort of thing out there, because I think talking about it is important.

#Rambles #I know I have some followers that like my work that also like AI #I still love you #I know you don't try to do harm and are just here to vibe about the same blorbos #I know you like art in general #But I'd wish you could hear me out on this #Even if it doesn't change your perception

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scarletttries · 1 year

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Forever Mine (Kendall Roy Succession Request)

Pairing: Kendall Roy (Succession) x F! Reader

Rating: Explicit (Breeding Kink/ Jealous Kendall)

Word Count: 2.1k

Request: "Hiii Scarlett!!! I LOVE to read your kendall roy writings💜 can you write something about kendall trying to get you pregnant( bc I LOVED breeding kink) ?? Or having rough sex bc getting jealous of one of his friends' attention to u??"

Author's note: Thank you so much for this excellent request, I kind of combined the two ideas into the below fic for you 🥰💕

Forever Mine

"How can a company that makes more money than really exists in the world still need more investors?" You sighed into your fizzing glass of champagne as you continued to circulate through the crowd, Gerri stifling a laugh at your side.

"How'd you think the rich stay rich? They never use their own money for anything." She feigned a smile as a group of men shuffled past, their metaphorical wallets straining against the fabric of their designer suits as they moved. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go make them all feel important, so I can keep my job." You could see her eyes roll as she plastered on a fake smile and left you stood by the bar, hoping that Kendall would get bored soon enough and call it a night for the both of you. You never minded being his plus one to events like this, the chance to see him in his charming element not one you'd pass up, Ken stealing glances your way all night with a smile on his face that he only wore for you. But after a few hours the conversations always wore a little thin, and you usually found one of the old guard hovering beside you to make sure you weren't doing anything that might get people commenting.

"Are you waiting for a drink?" An strangely familiar voice snapped you back to reality, spinning on your heels to find a tall, well-built man in his fifties smiling at you like a lion spying a gazelle.

"No, I'm all set thank you, just pausing here for a moment." You replied with a courteous smile, taking a small step backwards as if you were blocking the bar that spanned the length of the decadent hall.

"Would you mind if I 'pause' with you for a moment?" It was then that you placed his suave voice in your mind, the man an up-and-coming congressman that couldn't stop appearing on ATN news shows, repeating whatever lines Logan's team had written from him that day. As he leaned over the bar to ask for a whiskey you took the opportunity to glance around for an exit plan, but with groups of investors all deep in conversation on every side of you, you swallowed the acid in your throat and resigned yourself to an uncomfortable conversation with the awful man in front of you.

"Of course, it's a pleasure to meet you congressman." Kendall would've been able to tell your polite tone was entirely fake, but the man in front of you smirked proudly at the title, pleased you knew who he was and hoping to score more than financial backing from you this evening.

"The pleasure's all mine." He stretched out the hand that wasn't holding an ornate crystal glass, taking what should have been a courteous handshake way too far as he leant forward to bring his lips to the top of your hand, still curled in a stomach curdling smirk as they pressed against your skin. "Now tell me, exactly how much would I have to invest in Waystar for you to leave this shindig with me tonight?"

"You might have better luck if you don't hit on the date of the richest man in here." Before you could spit out your own retort, you heard the dark drawl of Kendall appearing beside you, face twisted in stoney discontent as the political pawn tried to save face a little.

"Fair enough, I know when I'm beat." He raised his hands in fake surrender as he backed away, but not before throwing a final uncomfortable wink your way, "You know who I am, if you change your mind." You could feel Kendall's hand fall to your lower back in response, trying to keep you in the palm of his hand, as if this disgusting character could actually pull you away from him. Hoping to lighten the tension between the two men before Kendall pulled some strings and ended this man's career, you let out an uneasy laugh,

"Well you've got my vote." You cringed at the hollow chuckle from Kendall beside you as your politician smiled again and stepped off into the crowd, looking for easier prey, leaving you to try and reassure the embodiment of jealousy beside you.

"Kendall, you know-"

"You ready to get out of here?" He cut you off before you could start, the unsettling smile on his face difficult to read as he threaded his fingers through yours and scouted out the nearest lift to take you out of the events hall and up to the hotel suites the Roy family had booked out for the night.

"Yeah, of course, let's go love." You said the final word extra softly, watching the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, unable to contain his warmth at the affectionate pet name, your love the truest thing he'd known in his complex life.

You felt his hand squeeze yours as he led you through the crowd until finally the two of you were alone, the chirpy elevator music cutting through an otherwise tense silence.

"You know I was trying to be polite Ken." You offered reassuringly, Kendall keeping his gaze fixed to the floor numbers illuminating on the touch screen beside you.

"I know honey, it's not your fault men can't fucking stay away from you." His tone was almost vindicative as the doors finally opened on your floor, a sprawling penthouse for just the two of you, another exquisite home away from home for the night.

The moment the doors behind you slid shut, Kendall was on top of you, his teeth clashing against yours with the sheer force of his passion. The crash of his lips took your breath away as his hands found your hips, gripping them tight enough that the silky fabric of your dress bunched in handfuls as he guided your back to the chaise longue that stood at the opening of the suite, the bedroom far too great a distance to travel.

As your lower back met the antique fabric, Kendall's hands skimmed up your the length of your spine, sending shivers through your body as his lips moved hungrily to your neck, a devouring the soft flesh there enough to leave a trail of deep purple lovebites,

"Why is it so fucking hard for everyone to see that you're mine?" Kendall panted into your neck as he pulled the straps of your dress down your shoulders, handling you with rough, frantic movements, his chest heaving against yours as he worked to free you from the satin that came between you.

"I'm all yours Kendall." You breathed out as your dress hit the floor, relishing in the guttural growl the words drew from the still fully-dressed man, drinking in the sight of you as he cupped your cheek in his hand and drew you in for another hungry kiss.

"I know love, I just think we need to make that more obvious." His tongue danced against yours as his eye fluttered shut, shrugging off his jacket as you pushed it from his shoulders. His lips trailed over your chin and down your throat as he sunk to his knees. He sucked and nipped at your exposed skin, his hands running along your sides as his head sank between your breasts before settling at your stomach, peppering the soft curves with kisses as his fingers tugged your panties down your thighs, helping you step out of them so nothing obstructed his perfect view of your body.

"How are we gonna do that?" You questioned absentmindedly as you let the sensation flooding from his sinking kisses run through your veins, his lips inching closer and closer to your tingling centre. You didn't miss the devilish glint in his eye as he paused and looked up at you, face hovering so close to your entrance you could feel his hot breath against your sensitive skin.

"I can think of two ways." He nuzzled his nose softly against your clit and watched the way your body reacted so desperately to his touch, your hips twitching forward and your chest rising as you gasped at the contact. His tongue darted forward to add to the sensation, lapping at the bundle of nerves while one hand snaked up your inner thigh. The moan you let out as he hummed against you only made him happier as his fingers toyed with your slit, now wet with your slick from the way he'd manhandled you. "It's so easy for me to tell you're all mine when you get this wet for me." His fingers dipped inside your entrance as he spoke, you knees all but buckling at the relief in your throbbing core at the contact, the arm of the sofa behind you the only thing keeping you upright.

"All for you Kendall." His name came out entirely in moan as he plunged two of his fingers into you with a frantic rhythm, wanting to get you more than ready to feel the rest of him deep inside you.

"Maybe I should let everyone know just how much you like my fingers inside you by putting a fucking enormous diamond on yours." He watched, enamoured by the way you eyes shot open at his words before clenching shut as his lips found your clit again, bringing you so close to the edge of your pleasure that all you could do was smile and hum in agreement at his words. As he started to feel the familiar tremble of your thighs he pulled his hand away, groaning at the needy whimper that left your lips as he did.

"Ken?" Your eyes were as pleading as your words as you watched him unbuckle his belt, rubbing your thighs together to try and ease some of the frustration that was pulsing in your centre.

"I think the second way is much more fun though." His eyes were dark with desire as he kicked off his dress pants, letting you see his hard length leaking excitedly as he grabbed your hips and helped you fall backwards onto the long loveseat behind you, quickly following suit, kneeling in between your thighs to keep your legs spread for him. He ran his tip through your dripping folds, watching you whine and flinch at the sensation, trying to drive him into action,

"What's the second way to let people know I'm all yours?" Kendall watched your chest rise and fall as you panted out the words, so sensitive from being brought to the edge that his teasing had you writhing around underneath him. Grinning like a devil he finally lined himself up with your entrance, waiting until he spoke to buck his hips harshly into you.

"To get you pregnant. Fuck!" He cried out as slammed his hips against yours, hitting the spot deep inside you that had you arching your back and crying out in agreement. "You'd like that wouldn't you. For everyone to know how well you take my dick. How full I get you."

"Yes daddy," You moaned, overwhelmed by his relentless pace as he fucked hard and fast into you, his hands running over your stomach until they reach your bouncing chest. His hands cupped your breasts, fingertips teasing your nipples as he stared down at you, completely dominating your body.

"Everyone would be able to see these get bigger, and I bet they'd get so sensitive I could have you in tears just playing with your nipples. We can practice you having my lips on them all day until you've soaked through every set of fucking lingerie I've ever bought you." He could see the wide desperation in your eyes as your pleasure climbed again, every pinch and thrust setting every cell in your body alight.

"I'm so close, please." You cried out, volume almost a scream as you begged for your release, Kendall's own thrusts losing rhythm as he fought to make this moment last forever.

"You want me to cum in you? You want me to fill you up and make you lie here until your carrying my seed? Until it's clear to everyone that you're mine forever?" His questions were all but drowned out by the chanting yeses that spill from your lips as your walls clenched around him and your body started to shake with your release.

"Yes Ken, I'm yours forever." You managed to breathe out as the waves of pleasure washed over you, amplified by the incredibly feeling of him spilling inside you, the warmth deep in your abdomen somehow more intense than usual knowing that Kendall's breeding kink had been fully awakened, and he wouldn't satisfied until he'd filled you with as much of him as you could take.

Leaning forward his elbows settled either side of your head, lips meeting yours for a sweet kiss as he repeated the words, "Mine. Forever."

"All yours love." You echoed softly, the devotion in his eye clear as his lips returned to yours again and again, drinking in the sweet taste of your affections.

"You know we're not leaving this room until you're so full of my cum, it's dripping out of you, right?"

#writing #fanfiction #one shot #requests #kendall roy headcanon #kendall roy succession #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy imagine #kendall roy smut #kendall succession #succession imagine

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wandixx · 9 months

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Justice League never helped Amity Park.

Why?

They genuinely didn't need any help, it was one of the most normal and safe town in America.

Other than Jack Fenton on the road hazard but it's not like he can break walls with his orange jeep, is it? It's too little to get JL on it.

Okay, so what does Phantom do right outside of the Watchtower drinking Capri sun? Is it related to how horrified Flash is, running around meeting room like he tries to wear down the floor?

Why yes, absolutely. You see dear traveler, Ghost child is just not from this timeline.

He is from the other one. The intense one. The one, where Amazonians were at war with Atlanteans, where there was no line Batman wouldn't cross, where doctors Fenton didn't stop their research after their dearest friend had accident.

Yeah, that's the one. One that Barry created by saving his mother and the one he allegedly destroyed.

How do they tell the stressed ghost child that timeline he lived in ceased to exist?

*~*~*

Maybe I'm not clear enough but yeah. Phantom is from other timeline but as I heard, Dan shoved time medalion into Danny's chest so now our boi has wonky relationship with time. When Barry erased "wrong timeline", Danny got yote into his time and was confused. Like, one day he wakes up in the middle of the nowhere because of some shit and isn't even surprised at first but then realises something is off. Especially when he gets to the nearest town. Things are all sorts of wrong, like:

There is less ambient ectoplasm in the air.

Meme references are just not right.

There is no supernatural war.

Nobody is trying to post mortem murder him for being a ghost.

There are a lot more heroes and the ones he knew are different, like, why is Batman suddenly so much against killing?

So he goes of to find Amity and see which one's of the ghosts bullshit he has to clean up this time, only to see his city... Normal? Happy even? No broken pavements or anti ghost tech? No teenage stans? No alive food? His parents are more of the local handymen than mad scientists?! There is SECOND HIM, who isn't a ghost in the slightest?!

WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED AND HOW DOES HE FIX IT?!

Because yeah, this world seems nicer than real one, but he just can't stay here. Ghosts are probably wrecking havoc in his Amity again and he needs to get back now.

Just question is how, because it starts to look like whole new world and not some weird hallucination or Desiree doing her shit again. However so much things is similar that he assumes it's different timeline. He dealt with these before, once, but he managed. He just needed to find this Clockwork guy that showed up last time and learn what he has to do to fix it.

Wait, his parents here didn't made portal and Vlad didn't either because they're actually kind of trisome (ew) and he didn't have enough time. That's alright, Danny was raised in the shadow of the portal, he knew everything about it by heart. He could built it on his own.

Wait, portal needs and sacrifice. Can he use this world's himself as a sacrifice? He could probably ask these heroes for help but on the other hand he really doesn't want to do this to him. Being Phantom majorly sucks ass and he is jealous but he knows better than to destroy other his life over it.

Before he can resolve his dilemma, something he does pings Justice League's radar and Flash is send to investigate. Thank ancients it's him because allegedly other heroes wouldn't really get it. But it was Flash who somehow gets at least part of it, gives him a food and takes him to the space station (in space!). Now they have meeting about him and he has best view of stars he could ever imagine. Even though they're a little different than he remembers from back home.

Hope you enjoyed this little idea and maybe can add to the shenanigans. Comments and reblogs are whole yours.

I hope I'm englishing correctly and won't see too many spelling or grammatical mistakes when I wake up in the morning

Have a great whatever part of day it is to you

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factual-fantasy · 3 months

Text

19 Asks! :00 Thank you! :DD 🧁

And now you see my frustration and lack of patience. <XDD

Its the easiest to follow boundary that I can think of. Yet people still wanna fuss about it and send me horrible messages and run me down. Calling me selfish, ungrateful, spoiled.. Its exhausting. :( 💔

Sorry, I don't take requests. :/

Do beasts like that exist in the game?? :00 Dang, that's spooky-

Well, I imagine that Seafoam, Octo, Louis and any other tough guy on the ship would go down there and weed it out. Dragging it up onto the deck so that Blue Beauty could snatch it and dispose if it however she needed to <XDD 💀

I must specify that my cookie run characters are not in "my version" of the world- <:0 as in I didn't create the world they live in and how it works-

These cookie characters are fan OCs for an existing game! And note, its a game that I know next to nothing about! <:( I only researched enough to make characters that might fit into that universe somewhat realistically,, other than that, I've got nothing! :(

So about a pirate community being led by a King or Queen of some other chocolate brands..?.. aaaaaa I have no idea! <:0 Its not my world! Does it fit? I don't know.. Sorry.. :(((

@yourstrulylightstar283

Thank you <:) but hey, I have high hopes that this trial will end within the next few weeks! :D ..I really hope it will :')

@neo-metalscottic

:DD No problem! While I am spending an unfortunate amount of my time just lounging around trying to feel better.. I at least want to get around to answering asks! Its darn near my favorite part of running this blog after all! <XDD

When it comes to the Commander, he is not meant to have any fancy powers like in the movie or from Kamek. Magic in my universe is meant to be a very complicated practice. Something that would take years of studying and training to perfect. At least to the level where it can be used reliably in combat.. What I mean by this, is I don't think there's any magic related tricks that the Commander could "pick up" or be taught.. Magic also has everything to do with a magikoopa's gem staff thing, soo... <://

Though I suppose that the "superspeed flight" and the "self destruct" aspect could be incorporated into the Blue Parakoopa species somehow.. Perhaps due to the shape of their winds and flying styles, they could be incredibly fast. And Since they are so big and sturdy, perhaps they have been known to rocket towards their enemy and come crashing down onto/into them with all their might. Completely obliterating what ever they happen to hit. Like an explosion! XD Hmm.. I might just adopt that XDD Thanks for the idea!

Also he might make for a decent sparring partner if he was asked to do so! :0 though that's not his primary job..

As for Larry, unfortunately I've thought about him the least amongst the Koopalings. :((( Though I do intend to keep his star mark somehow.. and I didn't know about the music thing! :0 My Larry definitely wouldn't be a DJ, but I could certainly add an interest in music into his character! :0 Sounds like you kind'a built a bit of Larry for me! XD

@kaylee4509

Thank you so much!! I'm glad to hear it! :DD And "like spam", XDD there's no such thing on my blog! I consider it a huge compliment! :DD

@ripchaos69

:DD Thank you very much!! I'm glad you like what I've made!! :}} ✨💖✨

Me neither man, me neither. If someone else had set a boundary like that I would just drop it no questions asked. I don't get why its so hard for others to do the same.. and its such a small and simple boundary at that. It just baffles me, it really does. :'((

@petra-creat0r

I always knew/assumed that's why people harp on me so much about it. "All other artists like it. So why don't you like it? You make no sense."

I understand how everyone else sees it, but even then I wish people would get the message and just leave me alone about it. You know?

When I set a boundary, don't come into my ask box and question me about it. Don't start criticizing me or send me death threats or call me selfish and ungrateful. As has happened before..

Just read the boundary, "please do not make fanart of any kind for me" and then leave it/me alone. Its all I ask. :( I promise I would/will do the same for you, 💖

Thank you for the kind message and support, it really means a lot <:}

I'm doing by best every day to heal and work on myself as much as I can. I'm hoping to see improvements soon! <:}

@jennifergacha

Sorry, I don't take requests. But it sounds like you already have a good idea goin. Why not give it a go yourself? :0

:DDD Thank you so much!! That means the world!! :}} 💖

I have not :( I've seen and heard wonderful things about it though! No doubt its an awesome show :}}

@littlelightfish

WAAHAHAGG THANK YOU!! :DDD Nothing means more to me than to see people so passionate about my original characters! My ORIGINAL! CHARACTERS!! 😭😭💖💖💖 IM SO HONORED!!

XDD No no don't worry! You're fine! :}

Now, I do advise that people don't shove headcannons onto my charaters- BUT! I say this because in the past people have shipped my original characters together and have put mental illness and sexuality headcannons on themm.. which is just not ok. It made me super uncomfortable and should be a no brainer. Don't do that with peoples personal characters unless they say they are ok with it-

But this is a bit different, taking what I've already established and just gushing about it/digging into it a little deeper is alright! Honestly its such an honor! :DD It makes me very happi :}}} 💖💖

@jayden-for-now

@komikudikentalendo

:(( I been goin through it ngl. But I'm sure in a few weeks and maybe after I get a couple good rainy days under my belt? I'll be back to my old squiggly self :}

@beryl-shade (First link/video in question) (Second link/video in question)

I like to look at my cookie crew through more "serious" glasses. I don't think they ever would be involved in a coordinated musical number..

But even if they were, I'm not too sure how they'd react/feel.. :( I know Octo and Spidercrab wouldn't be having a good time though, that's for sure! XDD

#my response #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs #super mario bros

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