#and fuck clueless administrators

[remlionheart]

Can you do a Chuuya x fem reader where her bra can be shown from her white shirt?

pov: you request a simple spicy lil fic from me, but my manic brain is physically incapable of not giving it an entire backstory and plot and making it at least 4k+ words (thank you so much for this idea tho, it was super fun to write! ღ)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ My first attempt at Chuuya smut (and goddamn, do I love that angry lil man ★~(◡‿◡✿). New to the city, you're coerced into working for the PM after a drunken night out. Scared and now in the heart of one of Japan's most notorious criminal organization's headquarters, you decide to reclaim some of your power by ~*teasing the absolute fuck out of Chuuya Nakahara~*. 4.8k words. Porn with a plot. I can't even lie, this shit had me giggling and kicking my feet while writing, lemme know whatcha think. luv u ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When you'd first moved to Yokohama 2 months ago, you had promised your parents that you'd be safe. That you'd find yourself a decent office job to afford you a lofty apartment and that you'd be settled in relatively quickly. You'd pictured yourself walking amongst tall buildings on your days off. Exploring the city with your coworkers on the weekends. Living instead of just existing in your small hometown.

You thought you had your future all mapped out and maybe you did, but those dreams of normalcy were all but destroyed the night you crossed paths with Koyo Ozaki.

She had noticed you from across the bar, quietly observing the way you'd been drinking by yourself all night. It was odd to see a girl with your beauty and lack of abilities so confidently roaming downtown alone. She wasn't sure if you were brave or naive, but the moment you took a seat next to her to thank her for the whiskey and coke she had ordered you, she realized you were the perfect blend of both.

She'd spent the next hour chatting you up, effortlessly coaxing information out of you without you realizing it. She'd offered you an administrative assistant role for the group she worked for, describing it as a "lucrative" and "underground" organization. You were in no position to say no, especially after spending the last month relentlessly applying to jobs with little to no luck.

You woke up the next day musing about silly things like fate and serendipity as you raided your closet for the perfect first day outfit. You felt like this was your big break. The first stop on the roadmap of adulthood that you'd created for yourself. You ironed a pair all black slacks, pairing it with a white-button up quarter-sleeve shirt, and your favorite suede Mary-Janes. Optimism swirled through your head as you eyed yourself in your bedroom mirror that night. You were determined to be so good at this job.

You showed up freshly showered and prepared when you arrived at the sleek, high-rise building. Ozaki waited for you out front with a rather intimidating dark-haired man who introduced himself as Mori, head of the fucking Port Mafia.

Your anxiety rose with each step you took behind them, quickly realizing that this was not the run-of-the-mill clerical job you had envisioned while hazily chatting with Ozaki over whiskey-neats. This was an underground criminal organization full of some of the strongest ability users in the world. You had absolutely no idea why you were here. Why you'd been selected, let alone trusted, to work alongside these people.

You were given your own small office, equipped with a bare desk and landline phone. Mori told you to stay put, explaining that you were to stay out of sight until further notice. You were essentially there as a cover-up.

Apparently, they'd been scouting for girls like you. New to town and completely clueless. They wanted to bring in a handful of these 'administrative assistants' to help keep up the illusion that this was just another ordinary building in the business district of Yokohama and nothing more.

Mori left you with a curt warning about the temperament of the other Mafia members and a haunting, "Welcome to the team." as he closed the door to your office and disappeared down the long corridor. Your heart was slamming into your chest, your anxiety growing the longer you sat. You were angry. Disappointed in yourself for being such an easy target.

You sat for at least an hour staring at the wall in existential dread, wondering what you'd done to end up here. Wondering what you were going to have to do to get out now that you were here. Even if it wasn't necessarily a "job", it still didn't seem like something you could just casually walk away from.

You were in the middle of the Port Mafia's headquarters and you were rightfully, terrified.

The sound of two muffled voices pulled you away from your thoughts while you froze in your chair, realizing that they were right outside your door.

"You're fuckin' with me, right?"

"No, that's really where they're keeping her. She's going to be a fulltime member."

"A member?" it was the first man again, his voice full of shameless snark and volume as he laughed at the idea. "A Mafia member with no ability? C'mon, Akutagawa. Even Mori isn't that stupid."

"There's going to be more, she's just the first to show up."

Tension crept along your spine when both voices came to a curious stop, one quietly scolding the other before the heavy wooden door began to creak open.

A pair of azure eyes stared back at you, disheveled shoulder-length red hair draping off of one shoulder as he mumbled, "Holy shit."

The taller of the two, draped in a long black coat, tried to pry him away, but he shrugged him off with an irritated. "Chill out, I just wanna introduce myself to her."

The dark-haired man scoffed and continued down the hallway while his ginger companion closed the door behind him, leaving just the two of you looking back at each other skeptically.

Despite his height, he had a powerful demeanor. A blend of apathy and cockiness that exuded off of him as he carefully made his way towards you. "So, you're the new girl, huh?"

Your eyebrows furrowed when you looked back at him, your words suddenly stuck in your throat as his foot made contact with your desk.

You managed a nod, remembering the way Mori had advised you not to engage with the other Mafia members, but what were you supposed to do when you were suddenly locked in a room with one?

"God, we really can't just have one normal day around here, can we?" He sighed, almost seeming embarrassed as his shoulders dropped and he leaned against your desk in the spot next to you. "Stealin' girls out of bars? Tch, the hell are they thinkin'?"

His opposition to his boss' plan made you relax a bit. It was the first time all day that you thought you might make it out of here okay.

He picked up on your apprehension rather quickly, taking his hat off and setting it down before extending a gloved hand out to you. "Chuuya." He said simply.

You stared at him for another moment or two before introducing yourself, trying but failing to mimic his nonchalant tone.

"Hey," He said, lightly nudging your foot with his, "You're gonna be alright. I'm sure this gig will only last for a couple of weeks until they move on to their next big, idiotic idea."

"You think so?" It was the first time all day that you felt like you could breathe.

"Trust me, Mori's plans are always changing. He'll probably cut you a fat check for hush money and then send you on your way sooner than later. Just lay low in the meantime, yeah?"

Your eyes were still locked as you nodded at him again, giving him a feeble, "Okay... Yeah, I can do that."

"Good." He smirked, pulling himself away from your desk.

You watched him pause just before exiting the room. He turned around to face you again, his gaze landing a bit lower than your eyes this time.

"And maybe uh -" If you didn't know any better, you'd swear that you saw a flash of red flare across his cheeks. "Maybe don't wear that bra with a white shirt next time."

Out of all of the anxiety and fear that you'd been drowning in over the last few hours, your choice of outfit had been the very last thing you'd considered worrying about until just now.

You looked down, noticing what he meant as you saw the dark, lacy fabric of your Victoria's not-so-secret peeking through the white of your blouse. Your tits were pushed perfectly together, nearly on full display through the sheerness of your shirt.

He flashed you another faint smirk before clicking the door shut, once again leaving you to your own crippling thoughts as your head dropped into your hands.

What an absolutely mortifying first day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few shifts were a blur.

You'd clock in. Sit for what felt like an eternity in your bleak little office. Leave mid-day to grab lunch at a cafe across the street. And then head home 9 hours later despite the fact that you’d hardly done anything.

You'd learned to bring in books and cross-stich patterns to keep yourself busy throughout the day instead of rotting away at your desk. It wasn't an ideal situation, but if Chuuya was right and there really was a big check waiting for you around the corner, you'd decided that it was worth it to see this through. Because no matter how nervous you got each morning, the painful truth was that you couldn’t afford to turn down easy money.

By the end of the week, you found yourself doing more than just sneaking in romance mangas to make the job more bearable though. You were doing everything you could to gain back even a semblance of power.

If you had to be here, you had decided that you were going to make it everyone's problem.

With the ginger's words still fresh in your mind, you made it a point to wear darker bras. Tighter blouses. Shorter skirts that barely covered your ass. It had almost become an inside joke with yourself at what a distraction you'd become to the Port Mafia. Maybe couldn’t make these men fear you, but you could certainly make them trip all over themselves any time you entered the building.

You'd hardly been able to keep a straight face yesterday afternoon when Akutagawa's coffee fell from his hands and cascaded around him after he saw you walking down the hall in black knee-high stockings. You'd finally managed to make everyone here as uncomfortable as they'd made you and it felt good.

You were half-way through the iced matcha you'd picked up on lunch, sitting with your feet propped up on your desk as you continued to embroider the word "fuck" in pretty, cursive letters next to a pink and yellow flower when a knock arrived at your door.

You quickly stashed the circular cross-stitch pad in one of the desk drawers and straightened your back as Tachihara poked his head into your office. "Yo, new girl. Nakahara wants to see you."

Your brows knitted together as you looked back at him in quiet confusion.

No one had ever requested to see you in the time that you'd been here. Even in your attempts to disrupt their daily tasks, they'd still not bothered to learn your name. But now... you were expected to go see Chuuya... in his office?

"Why?" It was the only question you could think to ask.

"Dunno," Tachihara shrugged. "but I wouldn't keep him waiting. He's kind of an asshole." And with that, you were once again left alone and anxious.

You took a breath, standing up to smooth down the fabric of your skirt before venturing down the hallway.

You did your best to push Tachihara's warning out of your head, reminding yourself of the kindness Chuuya had shown you on your first day while your heels clicked across the marbled floor.

Maybe he wanted to tell you that he'd talked to Mori and that your time with Port Mafia was finally up. Maybe he wanted to hand deliver the check you'd so desperately been waiting for. Maybe he just wanted to see how you were doing. Whatever it was, you were holding onto hope that there wouldn't be any more bad news.

You let out a sharp exhale as you rounded the corner and found yourself standing in front of his office. You gave the door a light tap, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve when he finally appeared.

His eyes traced over you slowly, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he counted not one, not two, but three undone buttons along your blouse that revealed the deep-purple push-up bra decorating your chest.

"Get in here."

His tone was clipped, dripping with what felt like vexation as he closed the door behind you.

His office was much bigger than yours, adorned with high-rise windows that overlooked the city and pristine black marble flooring that matched his leather furniture. The room was dark, just barely lit by a lamp on his desk. You wondered how it was possible for him to get any paperwork done in here but then promptly realized that with his ranking, paperwork was probably far beneath his paygrade.

Still not entirely sure how to approach the situation, you hesitantly took a seat on the over-sized armchair across from his desk.

"Quick question," he said, standing in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, his voice still riddled with irritation. "What does the phrase 'lay low' mean to you? Because I can tell you right now, this ain't fuckin' it."

Your pupils widened, his words hanging heavily in the space between you.

Your mouth opened and then closed again, too focused on the way he was staring at you to form a proper response.

"Is it -" you wavered, mustering up all the courage you had to try and play this off as innocent confusion rather than what it actually was: sarcasm. "Is it my outfit?"

If looks could kill, you would've been 6 feet under.

Chuuya's eyes darkened, a flustered hand rubbing feverishly over his face as he struggled to keep his composure. He wasn't sure if you were trying to piss him off or if you were just genuinely the dumbest girl he'd ever come in contact with.

"Yes," He said with all the restraint he could possibly manage, his teeth nearly grinding together with each syllable. “The outfits are getting out of hand. You've gotta stop."

You were playing a dangerous game, but you were slowly starting to realize that you were... winning.

"What's wrong with them?" you asked, pretending to cover your chest in embarrassment.

You wanted to hear him explain it. Hear him tell you in his own words that you couldn't wear short skirts anymore because it was causing too many unexpected erections around headquarters.

"I -" The poor redhead looked as though he was going to have an aneurysm if you kept this up much longer.

He snapped his eyes shut and let out a frustrated exhale, his hand now bawled into a fist at his side. "Listen, a lot of the guys around here have... noticed you, okay? And I can't take one more day of hearin' those fuckin' assholes talk about how they caught a glimpse of your ass in the break room. Got it? I'll buy you some new clothes if I have to. Just please, no more shirts like this, alright?"

He was actually bargaining with you. Entering the third stage of grief as he tried so hard to keep his cool. To keep his eyes locked with yours and nowhere else. To explain all of this in the nicest way he could.

It was in that moment that you realized where the real source of his trepidation was coming from.

Hearing his coworkers ogle over you was probably annoying for sure, but the more damning, infuriating fact of the matter was that he was ogling over you too. And he was fucking tired of not being able to get any work done when he knew that you were right down the hall. He was pissed that he had to come into his office every morning and lock the door just so he could jerk himself off to the idea of you.

He was in so many words begging you to stop because he wasn't sure how much longer he could take seeing so much of your body without being able bend you over his desk like he did in his mid-morning daydreams.

He was losing - both his resolve and this game at an alarming rate.

"Hmm," you hummed, toying with a pen you'd found wedged between the cushion of his chair. "Well, I'm sorry. I just like feeling pretty before I come in. I didn't know it was creating such a problem for everyone."

The wheels in Chuuya's head were spinning.

Emotions weren't his strong suit and doing these mental gymnastics with you was making him need a cigarette.

"It's -" he sighed, groaning as he forced himself to backpedal. "It's not your fault. I mean, you do look pretty, y'know. It's just... distracting, is all."

It was hard to hide your smirk.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't think he was a bit distracting himself, but he didn't need to know that. Not yet anyway.

"Okay, well," you conceded as you began to stand up. "I’ll wear a turtleneck or something tomorrow then.” You shot him a small smile as you got to your feet, "Promise."

He looked marginally relieved by your understanding. "Sounds good." He huffed, rubbing at the back of his neck while following behind you as you made your way out of his office.

But just before you reached the door, you accidentally dropped the pen you'd been fidgeting with. Bending over without warning so that your ass was right in front of him, peaking out of your skirt as he walked straight into you, his hips suddenly meeting yours.

You thought he might actually kill you this time with the guttural noise of frustration that escaped him.

He grabbed you by your shoulders the second you were upright again, spinning you around so that you were forced to face him.

“Okay, seriously." He said between gritted teeth. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat as you watched the unfettered anger flicker through his blue eyes.

It was a stupid move, you knew that before you did it, but you didn't expect it to draw this much of reaction out of him. His restraint was lost. Composure long gone while he waited for you to say something with his face mere inches away from yours.

"Sorry," You lied, "It slipped out of my hand so I -"

"Bullshit." He snarled. "Enough with this innocent act. What do you want out of this, huh? For every guy in Port Mafia to want to fuck you? Is that what you're gettin' at here?"

"No." Your head shook before you even had time to think about what you were about to say. "Not everyone..." Your eyes were still glued to his. "Just you."

You didn't know what you were doing anymore or where all of this recent shamelessness had come from, but there was something about being here that made you feel like you could do anything. Be anyone. You weren't sure if it was the power or the crime or the ungodly amount of money that Port Mafia was raking in, but the collective feeling of chaos that these walls housed was finally latching onto you too.

You didn't even flinch when you said it, instead continued to stare at him unapologetically, noting the way his grip had tightened around your shoulder the longer he looked back at you.

"What?"

If the wheels in his head had been spinning before, they were now fully off the ground, exploding into the air as his gaze drifted along your face. Searching intently to make sure you were actually being serious this time before he went any further.

"You really want me to fuck you that bad?" he asked, the warmth of his mouth now ghosting yours.

The question went straight to your center, wetness seeping between your legs as you nodded back at him.

Truth be told, your midmorning fantasies while cross-stitching the last few days hadn't been much different than his.

The gravity manipulator's fingers were suddenly tangled into your hair, his body forcing your back against the door while his lips collided with yours.

"Y'know you could've just asked instead of doin' all this bratty shit, right?"

His mouth was warm, his movements somehow urgent and careful at the same time as his hands wandered along your curves.

You smiled against his lips, letting out a breathy, "I'm sorry." as his palm began to graze the inside of your thigh.

"No, you're not." He smirked, sucking your bottom lip in between his teeth before biting down with just the right amount of pressure. "But you will be."

You let out a small whimper as he placed his free hand under your chin, moving your head to the side so that he could continue his descendent down your neck.

His leg wedged itself between yours, brushing against your clit while his mouth worked along your collarbone.

You were too lost in the feeling of it all to realize that he'd been leaving a trail of meticulously placed bites down the nape of your neck. Bruises in the shape of his mouth that he knew everyone would see.

"Chuuya -" you tried to protest, but it was more of a moan than an objection. "You - fuck, you can't -" You grinded helplessly against the firmness of his leg. Hips rocking back and forth, desperately trying to gain friction while he kept on nipping away at you.

"What's wrong, babe?" he purred against your sensitive skin. "You're wearin' a turtleneck tomorrow anyway, remember?" his breath fanned across your chest as he ripped the remaining buttons off of your shirt. A gloved hand palming at your chest, sliding your bra down so that your tits were fully exposed for him before you felt his tongue glide across your nipple.

Tachihara was right, he was kind of an asshole. But for some terrible reason, you were living for it. Almost embarrassed by how bad you wanted him. Wriggling against him and riding his leg. Whining while you let him leave visible marks on you and destroy the only clothing you had.

"C'mere." He pulled his head away from your chest, swiftly grabbing you by the arm and leading you back to his desk. He picked you up with ease, shoving a binder aside to sit you down in front of him.

"Spread your legs for me." His voice was heady, eyes glossed over with lust as you complied with his demands.

He held his hand up to his mouth, removing his black glove with his teeth before pushing your skirt up and sliding your underwear to the side. He bent over slightly, running two rough fingers along your clit as he watched your nails dig into the edge of his desk.

"Fuck," he groaned, still not taking his eyes off of you. He'd barely done anything and you were already soaked, your pussy practically throbbing for him. “You really do want me that bad, huh?"

“T - told you.” You whimpered, your head tilting back as he drew slow, blissful circles around you.

He kept up the same pace, basking in the way you were so easily falling apart for him.

“Chuuya, please.”

A smirk tugged viciously at the corner of his mouth, slipping a finger into you this time as your walls swallowed him. "Please what, baby?"

You may have had him in the first half, but you were now on the losing end of this game. Forgetting how to speak altogether as you watched him part your legs even further, bending all the way down to rest his head between your thighs.

You moaned at the feeling of his tongue pressing against you. The heavenly lines he was drawing uppp and downnn your center with his middle finger still sliding in and out of you. He was generous in the way he handled you, making sure he didn't miss a single spot. Lapping and slurping up every bit of cum he could as he added in another finger. Groaning against you the louder you got for him.

The only word you seemed to be able to remember was his name, repeating it over and over while your nails lodged deeper into his mahogany desk and your body shamelessly grinded against the warmth of his mouth.

You were in a delirious daze, losing yourself completely to the way he was devouring you.

He could feel you getting close too, noting the frantic rhythm of your hips. The gorgeous, fucked-out noises you were making for him. The death grip your walls suddenly had on him. He knew you were right there, right where he wanted you.

"Chuuya, 'm - I -"

Your legs were locking around his head, shaking uncontrollably as your hand ran through his hair.

He'd never admit it, but he almost could've came at the sounds you were making alone. The pouty way that you called out his name each time his fingers plunged into you was almost enough to drive him over the edge. You were so pathetic and adorable and he was determined to make everyone in Port Mafia hear just how needy you were for him.

As much as he wanted to edge you for what you'd done to him, as much as he wanted to make you beg and plead for him to let you cum, he couldn't fucking pull himself away from you. He was just as lost as you were, drowning in your cunt and not at all wanting to be saved.

His tongue didn’t leave you until he was absolutely sure that you'd ridden out every last wave of your orgasm, still pumping his digits in and out of you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

He came up for air with an exhausted smile, wordlessly coaxing your lips apart with his thumb before bringing the two fingers he had fucked you with into your mouth. Letting you clean off the blend of slick and salvia the two of you had created together.

"See how fucking good you taste?" he panted. "I think this is gonna be a real problem for both of us."

An enamored shade of pink brushed across your cheeks as he dropped down onto the chair across from you, running a tired hand through his hair.

"At least I won't be here much longer, right?" You said, playfully kicking his leg with your foot.

"Oh yeah," he smirked. "That actually reminds me..." Your eyes widened as he shifted around to dig an envelope out of his pocket. "Mori wanted me to give this to you."

Your hands trembled, opening it as delicately as you could to make sure you didn't rip anything when a check for 1,490,200 yen fell into your lap.

"Think that'll be enough to buy yourself a shirt that fits?"

Your eyes snapped towards him in disbelief, your pulse ringing through your ears as you tried to process that you'd somehow made this amount of money in a little over a week.

"Is this -" You stammered, thinking back to what he had told you when you first met. "Is this like a severance check then? ...Hush money or whatever?"

"Tragically, no. Mori wants you to stay."

Your hand instinctively flew up to your neck, covering the love-bites that the redhead had left you with, horrified at the realization that everyone was going to see them. Even more horrified at the fact that they had probably heard how you’d gotten them.

"What?"

"Yeah, he said somethin' about you how you've been 'boosting the morale' around here."

Your head felt like it was going to explode.

You had not only been marked by Chuuya Nakahara, but you were now being asked to stay in Port Mafia.

You couldn't decide which was worse.

"So... that means..."

"Yep. We'll be seein' a lot more of each other." He confirmed while checking his watch. "But hey, you better get outta here, Rando and I have a meeting in 10 minutes."

You looked down at your lack of clothing, the spit and cum that was still stuck to your skirt, the obscenely noticeable bruises that he'd so proudly gifted you with.

"Give me your shirt." you demanded.

"Nah."

The grin he shot you was so cocky, so vile, so... hot.

"Chuuya." You whisper-shouted, biting back your own stupid smile. "Be so fucking for real right now, I can’t go out there like this.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you put on that skimpy-ass outfit I guess.” He shrugged.

You hopped off his desk, straddling him in his chair as you forcefully began to undo the buttons along his collar.

The room filled with suppressed laughter, neither one of you able to contain it anymore as he finally conceded, wrestling you off of him. "Alright, alright, chill. I have extras in here, hang on."

You both stood up, your eyes locked on him while he walked over to an expensive looking armoire in the corner of the room.

He pulled a white shirt that resembled the one you were wearing earlier off of a hanger and brought it over to you, guiding your arms up so that he could put it on.

His movements were calculated, almost thoughtful as he dressed you, adjusting it so that it covered up most of the damage he'd done.

"There." He said, double-checking his work. "Now get out of here before I decide to rip that one off of you too.”

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˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Part 2! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[garbageday]

By now you have, no doubt, heard all about the dangerous new TikTok trend sweeping the nation. China’s great and powerful cyber weapon has convinced the innocent teenagers of America that Osama bin Laden was actually a pretty cool guy and now they’re all sharing his 2002 “Letter To America”. Well, first, just to get it out of the way, Osama bin Laden was actually bad. Also, a nepo baby.

After spending most of yesterday digging into this, I’m pretty convinced that this was never a real thing on TikTok. Even though it has since snowballed into a full on moral panic that is beginning to feel dangerously unstable. The Biden administration released a statement about the supposed trend and alarmed big-name creators and actors also reportedly met with TikTok this week to discuss the rise of antisemitism on the app.

Baseless generational in-fighting, aging millennials who refuse to accept the new status quo of the internet, easily monetizable rage bait, lazy TikTok trend reporting, and bad faith political actors swirled together to create a perfect storm this week.

The story has morphed from what should have been a weird curiosity — and perhaps even a moment to reflect on America’s post-9/11 legacy — into a full-blown national scandal with dumb-dumb headlines getting written about it, like CNN’s “Some young Americans on TikTok say they sympathize with Osama bin Laden”. I mean, I haven’t even had time in this piece to point out that a lot of the people I saw sharing the letter were millennials! But, yeah, teens fucking love Bin Laden. They’re saying 9/11 just hits different now no cap fr. Gen Z wants Baby Gronk to lead Al-Qaeda in a victorious jihad against the western imperialist hegemony gyatt!!

We have invented a version of TikTok that simply does not exist and now many people in power are ready to tear apart the foundation of internet to prove it does. And what’s worse here is that there are very real issues with how TikTok works. It is a major source of misinfo and disinfo. It still has a terrible bullying problem. And, ironically enough, it’s also one of the most oppressively censorious social platforms that has ever existed. To the point users had to create a puritanical version of leet speak to communicate on it. But we can’t even begin to address those issues unless we start to look clear-eyed at what is actually happening on the app. And it is most certainly not the digital hub of a large-scale Gen Z Bin Laden fandom. Be fucking serious.

The internet is an extremely chaotic living ecosystem and it’s constantly reacting to itself and all you accomplish by amplifying something like this is give more ammo to those who want to who want to take that away. You turn bizarre discourse into something bigger than it was ever meant to be. You pointlessly villainize normal people who aren’t public figures and don’t deserve this kind of scrutiny. And you help conservative political movements continue their culture war. You also just look like clueless boomer to anyone even slightly younger than you.

[Read more over on Garbage Day]

[httpscomexe]

Forbidden Secret Desire 4

Summary: You finally put all of the pieces together and your pursuer tries to make a move, failing horribly, so you decide it’s the best plan to just escape.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Mentions of hidden camera, forced touch, clueless reader. Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you.

Tags: @remmyj10 @sammyluvsfics @badbishsblog @dickmaster3000 @cellyx33

Word Count: 3483 (All other chapters here) Chapter 5

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Enjoy your Forbidden Secret Desire…

“Logan?” You call his name as you barge into his office without knocking, not bothering to have any boundaries since the matter seemed important. You were being watched through a camera for the last two days after all.

“Is Mr. Howlett in here?” You ask after being allowed in the lounge where some other teachers were having their lunch break. You had been searching for him all day, and you haven’t seen him once. You figured you would’ve seen him during third period, since he was supposed to be the substitute the entire week, but looked to no avail. You even asked around, wondering if anyone else had seen him. You were slightly hopeful when a few students claimed they saw him on hall duty during the first passing period, but then you were once again in the dark.

You skipped your fourth period also, hoping you might be able to find him outside in the garden or near the little park in the back of the school. Even searching the greenhouse, but of course. He was nowhere to be found. You knew he didn’t leave anywhere, his truck was still parked in the lot where it’s always parked, so eventually you just gave up on searching for him, and headed back to your room to catch up on any assignments you’d missed throughout the day.

As you entered your room and locked your door, you internally groaned. You weren’t sure what to do about the stupid bear, so you went into your closet to collect it.

“Oh! Mr. Howlett…” You yelp in surprise as you collide with Logan in your closet. “Uh what- what’re you doing in here?” You take a few steps back and cross your arms over your chest.

“I came to check on you, you’ve been missing all day.” He tells you, his voice seemed different, almost more tired or grumpier than usual.

“Oh, yea- I’ve actually been looking for you.” He sets the bear down on your desk, once again facing your bed. “Uh- I actually had a question about-” You look down at the bear, the little red light was gone. “Uh…”

“What is it?” He asks, his voice softening down to normal. But you don’t answer. Instead, you continue to look down at the bear. Its eyes were solid black and the whirring noise was gone.

“Never mind actually.” Your shoulders slump. If the red dot wasn’t there, then how would you prove to him that someone was watching you? Maybe he was the one watching you?

…

Nah. He wouldn’t do that. Right?

“Alright, well…” He crosses his arms, and looks down at you. “Are you sure? You look dumbfounded.” You see his hand in front of you but you pay it no mind, until you feel his index finger under your chin and he gently makes you look up at him and away from the bear. “Is it something about the bear? What’s going on?”

“No, no. Nothing’s going on, the bear is awesome. Everything’s cool.” There’s no fucking way he would’ve put a camera inside of the bears eye. Would he? He wouldn’t. He’s the only one that could’ve. No one else had been in your room before. Kurt has. Yesterday was his first time…

“You’re lying to me, pup. I don’t like it. Clearly something is going on.” Your eyes continue to stare into his, as if you were trying to connect to his soul.

“Nothing’s wrong, I promise.” You chuckle slightly. Maybe you shouldn’t bring it up to him… Just in case. “I would tell you if there was.” His hand moves, his index finger going from under your chin to gently caressing your jaw before his hand cups your cheek.

“I still feel like you’re lying to me, but okay.” He drops his hand down to his side and stares at you for a moment, now it was his turn to read into your soul.

But the bell rings just in time. “Anyways, I really have to finish some work that I wasn’t able to catch up on today. So I’ll see you tomorrow.” You force a soft smile onto your lips, trying to make everything seem fine instead of letting out your inner I’m being watched! Someone put a camera inside of my bear and has been watching me sleep! Also sometimes it would make this clicking sound so I’m pretty sure they’re also taking pictures of me when I’m getting dressed and undressed and I have NO idea what to do PLEASE HOLD ME!

That wouldn’t be very appropriate.

“Alright. Well, let me know if you need me for anything please. Anything.” He repeats, his finger making its way back under your chin as you freeze and he presses a kiss to your forehead. Well that’s not very appropriate either now is it? “Have a good night, Y/N.” He tells you, before leaving the room. And you stand still in place. For about a solid ten minutes.

Thousands of thoughts race through your mind. Your brain completely detached from what's in front of you as you stare at the wall and picture nothingness. What if he was the one watching you? He wouldn’t do that. Then why was he kissing you? It was just the forehead. It’s still not appropriate, maybe you should tell someone you trust. You only trust him. What about Kurt? And what’s he gonna do? Seriously, you were sure Logan was just being friendly. He’s just as awkward as you. Now if he started going further, then you would worry. But for now, you had other matters to deal with. Including emails and homework.

You sit on your bed and open your computer to once again, another thousand emails from “Erik Lehnsherr,” all asking about things you know everything about. Nanotech, electricity, (Which was a bit personal if you ask me, considering you produce it) and a bunch of other stuff. Sometimes it makes you wonder why he doesn’t just ask google.

After answering a dozen of them, a few of them he decides to send back with a secondary question, before you finally send one last email.

“I’ll get back to you tomorrow. This is a lot of typing, so maybe it would be better to ask me some of these things in person? I have a lot of work to do also. So, goodnight!” You tap send, and it takes a moment before the ‘sent’ message pops up on the bottom of the screen. Now you just had to finish your homework. You tell yourself, opening your google classroom and tapping the first assignment. Reading human body language. Great.

“So he was just standing there?”

“Yea, it was so weird…”

“How did he get in?”

“I don’t know, he’s a teacher, maybe he has a key?”

“Still doesn’t explain why he was in your room.”

“He claims he was looking for me, I guess worried?” You explain, shrugging your shoulders with your locker open, Kurt leaning on the one next to you as you both talk back and forth.

“He couldn’t send you an email or a text.” You shrug again and close your locker.

“Look, correct me if I’m wrong, but he’s definitely the one that put the camera in your bear, it’s the only thing that would make sense.” It was now his turn to shrug.

“Oh come on. He’s not like that.” Kurt just stares at you, his head slightly tilted. “Ugh, you’re unbearable. I mean what makes you think he’s smart enough to know how to use a camera?”

“Literally no one else has had access to your room.”

“That’s the only thing that gets me.”

“Okay, then who else is on your list for who could’ve gone into your room, put a camera in your bear, then left without being noticed?” Silence. You obviously didn’t have any other names on your list. It was Wednesday already, and you’d just discovered the camera two days ago, so regardless of who it was, you still had to tough it out for the rest of the week to be able to report anything to Xavier. He apparently has no phone reception in the mountains. “Exactly.”

“What’re you two lovebirds talkin’ about?” Alex and Scott bring you out of your thoughts, Alex with a mouthful of pizza as Scott does the talking.

“I thought you two were out for the rest of the week?” Kurt turns away from you, ignoring Scotts comment. “Something about being disruptive in class?”

“Yea, we’re supposed to be at home but he forgot some books in his room.”

“He forgot them?”

“Yea.”

“Then why are you here?” Kurt crosses his arms, the tip of his sharp tail moving to wag as it glides across the lockers. Why did you never realise he has a tail? Wait… “Looks more like you two are the love birds in this situation.”

“Aww, are you getting mad cause we’re talking about your little girl-”

“Boys!” A female voice booms from the other side of the hall. “I gave you five minutes to collect your- wait, is that a pizza in your mouth! Where in the world- No you get back here!” They both quickly scramble away, and the teachers' heels echo as they pass you and Kurt to follow them.

You sigh. “Okay you make a point, but we should-”

“Report it?”

“No, we should leave it be until Xavier gets back.”

“Okay, what if it goes further than the camera? What if your clothes start going missing..?”

“If my clothes start going missing then maybe I’ll consider doing something. But honestly, it just doesn’t seem like him. Not only does he not seem the stalking type, but he definitely would NOT be able to figure out how to connect the camera to his phone, computer, whatever it is.” You explain quickly, not catching a breath until you’re finished.

“Okay… just.” He takes his own deep breath, looking down at you with soft eyes. “Let me know if you need anything from me, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Kurt. You’re too sweet.” You smile softly, softly punching his shoulder before beginning to turn around. “I’ll be in my room, so call if you need to, I’m not busy.” Pushing your door open, you see him leaving the lockers from the corner of your eye before you actually step into your room. Locking the door and then immediately checking every corner of your room to make sure no one was in there, before you finally relaxed. Or at least your body relaxed.

Your mind on the other hand raced with thoughts. What if it’s not Logan, and it’s some creep student. You’d be reporting the teacher who helped you be friends with Kurt. That wouldn’t be nice. On the other hand, what if it is Logan? Then what? You have to prove it to Xavier that it was him. The app on his phone showing the camera and the pictures in his gallery would prove it for sure. You realise he probably would’ve deleted everything by now. As soon as he realised the bear was moved into the closet I’m sure he would’ve gotten rid of the proof.

Your mind races for hours, and before you know it, the sun is down. Your head still pounding with what could be the case and what would happen if you did what, each scenario runs rampant in your head, making you dizzy as you unconsciously moved until you were lying on your stomach, your pillow thrown over the back of your head in attempt to silence the thoughts.

Then you feel a hand on the small of your back, immediately causing you to flinch and sit up on your ass, reading to start kicking the damned asshole that's been- oh its Kurt. Wait…

“Are you okay?” You don’t answer him, you instead spring forward, falling into his arms as a few stray tears fall from your cheeks, his tail moving up in the most attractive way possible to wipe the tears off your cheeks, his arms wrapped around your waist as he squeezes you.

You both sit like that for a while, at some point he even moves to lean against your headboard, still holding you in his lap, then his hands move, causing you to sit up slightly, unaware of the way you were positioned on his lap as his hands cradle your face and he looks into your eyes.

“What’s going on?” He whispers softly, not exactly expecting an answer, but figuring your eyes would probably tell him anyway. You sniffle.

“Wait-” Your voice cracks, and you shut your eyes to think. “How did you- when- why?”

“Are you gonna finish any of those questions?” He asks rhetorically, his hands making their way to rest on your thighs. “I came in here like five minutes ago, You weren’t answering your phone and it’s only eight so I got worried.”

“And how..?”

“Honey, I can teleport.” He chuckles, his head tilting slightly, your brain completely ignoring the pet name he’s decided to give you.

“Oh… Yea…” You say softly, and you feel his tail move on your back before it pushes you carefully towards him, his hands moving to wrap back around your waist as he takes you in for another hug, and you rest your forehead on his shoulders. You weren’t crying anymore. Instead, new thoughts ran through your head. He can teleport.

He can teleport…

He can teleport…

He can… teleport?

You didn’t know that before. You snap back out of your brain to feel one of his hands on the bare skin of your back, which makes you sit up awkwardly, causing his hand to move across your waist until it's back on your thigh.

“I didn’t know you could teleport.”

“Really? I figured you knew that already.”

“No.” Your voice sounded more stern. He wouldn’t. Would he?

His hands gently move up. His left hand stopping on your wait and his right hand continuing up to your cheek, you also feel something wrap gently around your calf. Something felt wrong. And it makes you feel sick. You clear your throat a little, and try to count to yourself.

Shit… His right hand moves just slightly, his thumb moving softly over your bottom lip as you stare into his eyes, your brows quirked in confusion but they were devoured in tiredness. Then his hand gently cups the back of your neck, and his tail wraps just slightly tighter around your calf. Then he kisses you. Why is he kissing you? He’s supposed to just be your friend. He shouldn’t be doing this. You pull away slightly, but his lips just trail down from your lips to your neck, gently biting at your skin. You open your mouth to say something, but your voice catches in your throat. Then both of his hands gently move down to your waist before he softly pushes you onto your back. NOPE.

You scramble out from under him, but his tail tightens around your calf. “What’s wrong…?” He asks, trying his hardest to sound innocent.

“What do you think you’re doing..?” You finally choke out, pulling again before his tail finally loosens around your leg.

“I just thought-”

“Please get out.” You demand, not letting him finish. Your voice embarrassingly raises a few octaves as you speak. “Now.” Voice shaking, you sit up straight before he finally moves.

“Okay… I’m sorry.” He tells you softly, getting off your bed and making his way to the door, “Goodnight.” He says before finally leaving.

Then you actually catch your breath. What the fuck just happened. He can teleport. Logan. Logan in the morning. Logan…

“Logan!” You barge into his office, but this time he’s there, looking at his computer for a moment before his eyes shift onto you above the screen, barging in with red cheeks and a red nose, and a shaking body. Which is why he stands up quickly and walks towards you, letting him fall into his arms and sob quietly.

“There you go… you’re okay, pup. It’s okay… just breathe.” He whispers soothingly, pressing gentle kisses to the top of your head as his hand softly runs over your back, trying with his best effort to get you to calm down, and reaching behind you for a moment to lock his door, making sure no one else could barge in. “It’s okay, pup… I’ve got you.” He kisses the top of your head one final time before resting his chin there, his arms still wrapped around you as your own arms are squeezing around his waist.

“Okay…” He whispers again after a few moments of not hearing your sobbing. “Tell me what’s going on?” He gently moves his hands to rest on your shoulders, carefully creating a distance big enough for him to look down at you as you use the backs of your hands to dry your cheeks.

“There was a camera…” You start, actually debating whether or not to tell him. Fuck it. You tell yourself again. “It was inside of my bear's eye, and it was watching me, and at first the whirring sound didn’t bother me cause I thought it was my neighbours, I don’t have neighbours, and the clicking drove me crazy. I couldn’t think, every time there was a click. He said it was you, but you don’t know how to deal with simple tech, I told him that, you were the only other one to touch the bear, and he’s never been in my room before, but he can teleport, he teleported, I didn’t know he could teleport, then I ask him, and he kissed me and-”

“Okay, okay.” He interrupts you finally, placing his palm over your mouth. “So somebody put a camera in the eye of your bear?”

“Mhm, Kurt.”

“Okay…” He nods slightly, squinting his eyes as if to take in the information. “He was taking pictures of you, and whirring and clicking what’s with that?”

“See that’s why I know it wasn’t you… It was the camera making sounds.”

“And Kurt thought it was me?” You nod. “He said he’s never been in your room before?” You nod again. “But he can… teleport?” He finishes, making you nod hysterically.

“And then he forced me to kiss him…” You pout a little, your shoulders dropping as you remember what happened in detail. It disgusted you.

“He…” He clears his throat slightly. “Forced you to kiss him…” His voice deepens, but you don’t notice it as you nod some more. “Should I call him in here?” He shrugs himself a little.

“No, no. No, I don't want to see him.” You move away slightly, freaking out.

“Okay, okay. Pup, hun, come here.” He reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands. “If you don’t want me to then I won’t. But you have to tell me what you want me to do.”

“Am I able to get another room?” His jaw clenches slightly as he thinks about it, then he lets go of you and moves to look at his computer. After moving his mouse and typing some things on his keyboard. “So I can’t. I can only see what room students have, you can request it from Xavier though and he will look into it when he gets-” You groan in the middle of his sentence as he moves away from his desk and you land your forehead on his chest. “-back from his mission.” He finishes telling you, gently wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer.

“I don’t wanna be alone in my room anymore at night though. What if he comes in while I’m sleeping? Or what if-” He silences you by placing his palm over your mouth again.

“The only thing I can suggest is not sleeping in the mansion until you get a room change.”

“But I’m not allowed to leave…”

“How is Xavier gonna know?”

“I don’t have a place to go…”

“I have a log cabin.” He tells you, making your eyes practically sparkle slightly. “If you’d like, I can take the rest of the week off and take you there. I can put in an excuse for you.”

You think about it, your eyes leaving his eyes as they stare past him.

“You don’t have to of course. It’s completely up to you. But if you really want to get away from Kurt, then come with me to the cabin. I’ll keep you safe.” He tells you, his left arm moving around your waist and his right hand gently tilting your head up so he could look into your eyes.

“Okay…” You whisper, moving closer again to fall into his arms and onto his chest as his arms snake back around you, as he presses one final kiss to your forehead…

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How to design a tech regulation

TONIGHT (June 20) I'm live onstage in LOS ANGELES for a recording of the GO FACT YOURSELF podcast. TOMORROW (June 21) I'm doing an ONLINE READING for the LOCUS AWARDS at 16hPT. On SATURDAY (June 22) I'll be in OAKLAND, CA for a panel (13hPT) and a keynote (18hPT) at the LOCUS AWARDS.

It's not your imagination: tech really is underregulated. There are plenty of avoidable harms that tech visits upon the world, and while some of these harms are mere negligence, others are self-serving, creating shareholder value and widespread public destruction.

Making good tech policy is hard, but not because "tech moves too fast for regulation to keep up with," nor because "lawmakers are clueless about tech." There are plenty of fast-moving areas that lawmakers manage to stay abreast of (think of the rapid, global adoption of masking and social distancing rules in mid-2020). Likewise we generally manage to make good policy in areas that require highly specific technical knowledge (that's why it's noteworthy and awful when, say, people sicken from badly treated tapwater, even though water safety, toxicology and microbiology are highly technical areas outside the background of most elected officials).

That doesn't mean that technical rigor is irrelevant to making good policy. Well-run "expert agencies" include skilled practitioners on their payrolls – think here of large technical staff at the FTC, or the UK Competition and Markets Authority's best-in-the-world Digital Markets Unit:

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

The job of government experts isn't just to research the correct answers. Even more important is experts' role in evaluating conflicting claims from interested parties. When administrative agencies make new rules, they have to collect public comments and counter-comments. The best agencies also hold hearings, and the very best go on "listening tours" where they invite the broad public to weigh in (the FTC has done an awful lot of these during Lina Khan's tenure, to its benefit, and it shows):

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/events/2022/04/ftc-justice-department-listening-forum-firsthand-effects-mergers-acquisitions-health-care

But when an industry dwindles to a handful of companies, the resulting cartel finds it easy to converge on a single talking point and to maintain strict message discipline. This means that the evidentiary record is starved for disconfirming evidence that would give the agencies contrasting perspectives and context for making good policy.

Tech industry shills have a favorite tactic: whenever there's any proposal that would erode the industry's profits, self-serving experts shout that the rule is technically impossible and deride the proposer as "clueless."

This tactic works so well because the proposers sometimes are clueless. Take Europe's on-again/off-again "chat control" proposal to mandate spyware on every digital device that will screen everything you upload for child sex abuse material (CSAM, better known as "child pornography"). This proposal is profoundly dangerous, as it will weaken end-to-end encryption, the key to all secure and private digital communication:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/article/2024/jun/18/encryption-is-deeply-threatening-to-power-meredith-whittaker-of-messaging-app-signal

It's also an impossible-to-administer mess that incorrectly assumes that killing working encryption in the two mobile app stores run by the mobile duopoly will actually prevent bad actors from accessing private tools:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/09/04/oh-for-fucks-sake-not-this-fucking-bullshit-again-cryptography-edition/

When technologists correctly point out the lack of rigor and catastrophic spillover effects from this kind of crackpot proposal, lawmakers stick their fingers in their ears and shout "NERD HARDER!"

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/01/12/nerd-harder-fbi-director-reiterates-faith-based-belief-in-working-crypto-that-he-can-break/

But this is only half the story. The other half is what happens when tech industry shills want to kill good policy proposals, which is the exact same thing that advocates say about bad ones. When lawmakers demand that tech companies respect our privacy rights – for example, by splitting social media or search off from commercial surveillance, the same people shout that this, too, is technologically impossible.

That's a lie, though. Facebook started out as the anti-surveillance alternative to Myspace. We know it's possible to operate Facebook without surveillance, because Facebook used to operate without surveillance:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3247362

Likewise, Brin and Page's original Pagerank paper, which described Google's architecture, insisted that search was incompatible with surveillance advertising, and Google established itself as a non-spying search tool:

http://infolab.stanford.edu/pub/papers/google.pdf

Even weirder is what happens when there's a proposal to limit a tech company's power to invoke the government's powers to shut down competitors. Take Ethan Zuckerman's lawsuit to strip Facebook of the legal power to sue people who automate their browsers to uncheck the millions of boxes that Facebook requires you to click by hand in order to unfollow everyone:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/02/kaiju-v-kaiju/#cda-230-c-2-b

Facebook's apologists have lost their minds over this, insisting that no one can possibly understand the potential harms of taking away Facebook's legal right to decide how your browser works. They take the position that only Facebook can understand when it's safe and proportional to use Facebook in ways the company didn't explicitly design for, and that they should be able to ask the government to fine or even imprison people who fail to defer to Facebook's decisions about how its users configure their computers.

This is an incredibly convenient position, since it arrogates to Facebook the right to order the rest of us to use our computers in the ways that are most beneficial to its shareholders. But Facebook's apologists insist that they are not motivated by parochial concerns over the value of their stock portfolios; rather, they have objective, technical concerns, that no one except them is qualified to understand or comment on.

There's a great name for this: "scalesplaining." As in "well, actually the platforms are doing an amazing job, but you can't possibly understand that because you don't work for them." It's weird enough when scalesplaining is used to condemn sensible regulation of the platforms; it's even weirder when it's weaponized to defend a system of regulatory protection for the platforms against would-be competitors.

Just as there are no atheists in foxholes, there are no libertarians in government-protected monopolies. Somehow, scalesplaining can be used to condemn governments as incapable of making any tech regulations and to insist that regulations that protect tech monopolies are just perfect and shouldn't ever be weakened. Truly, it's impossible to get someone to understand something when the value of their employee stock options depends on them not understanding it.

None of this is to say that every tech regulation is a good one. Governments often propose bad tech regulations (like chat control), or ones that are technologically impossible (like Article 17 of the EU's 2019 Digital Single Markets Directive, which requires tech companies to detect and block copyright infringements in their users' uploads).

But the fact that scalesplainers use the same argument to criticize both good and bad regulations makes the waters very muddy indeed. Policymakers are rightfully suspicious when they hear "that's not technically possible" because they hear that both for technically impossible proposals and for proposals that scalesplainers just don't like.

After decades of regulations aimed at making platforms behave better, we're finally moving into a new era, where we just make the platforms less important. That is, rather than simply ordering Facebook to block harassment and other bad conduct by its users, laws like the EU's Digital Markets Act will order Facebook and other VLOPs (Very Large Online Platforms, my favorite EU-ism ever) to operate gateways so that users can move to rival services and still communicate with the people who stay behind.

Think of this like number portability, but for digital platforms. Just as you can switch phone companies and keep your number and hear from all the people you spoke to on your old plan, the DMA will make it possible for you to change online services but still exchange messages and data with all the people you're already in touch with.

I love this idea, because it finally grapples with the question we should have been asking all along: why do people stay on platforms where they face harassment and bullying? The answer is simple: because the people – customers, family members, communities – we connect with on the platform are so important to us that we'll tolerate almost anything to avoid losing contact with them:

https://locusmag.com/2023/01/commentary-cory-doctorow-social-quitting/

Platforms deliberately rig the game so that we take each other hostage, locking each other into their badly moderated cesspits by using the love we have for one another as a weapon against us. Interoperability – making platforms connect to each other – shatters those locks and frees the hostages:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

But there's another reason to love interoperability (making moderation less important) over rules that require platforms to stamp out bad behavior (making moderation better). Interop rules are much easier to administer than content moderation rules, and when it comes to regulation, administratability is everything.

The DMA isn't the EU's only new rule. They've also passed the Digital Services Act, which is a decidedly mixed bag. Among its provisions are a suite of rules requiring companies to monitor their users for harmful behavior and to intervene to block it. Whether or not you think platforms should do this, there's a much more important question: how can we enforce this rule?

Enforcing a rule requiring platforms to prevent harassment is very "fact intensive." First, we have to agree on a definition of "harassment." Then we have to figure out whether something one user did to another satisfies that definition. Finally, we have to determine whether the platform took reasonable steps to detect and prevent the harassment.

Each step of this is a huge lift, especially that last one, since to a first approximation, everyone who understands a given VLOP's server infrastructure is a partisan, scalesplaining engineer on the VLOP's payroll. By the time we find out whether the company broke the rule, years will have gone by, and millions more users will be in line to get justice for themselves.

So allowing users to leave is a much more practical step than making it so that they've got no reason to want to leave. Figuring out whether a platform will continue to forward your messages to and from the people you left there is a much simpler technical matter than agreeing on what harassment is, whether something is harassment by that definition, and whether the company was negligent in permitting harassment.

But as much as I like the DMA's interop rule, I think it is badly incomplete. Given that the tech industry is so concentrated, it's going to be very hard for us to define standard interop interfaces that don't end up advantaging the tech companies. Standards bodies are extremely easy for big industry players to capture:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

If tech giants refuse to offer access to their gateways to certain rivals because they seem "suspicious," it will be hard to tell whether the companies are just engaged in self-serving smears against a credible rival, or legitimately trying to protect their users from a predator trying to plug into their infrastructure. These fact-intensive questions are the enemy of speedy, responsive, effective policy administration.

But there's more than one way to attain interoperability. Interop doesn't have to come from mandates, interfaces designed and overseen by government agencies. There's a whole other form of interop that's far nimbler than mandates: adversarial interoperability:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

"Adversarial interoperability" is a catch-all term for all the guerrilla warfare tactics deployed in service to unilaterally changing a technology: reverse engineering, bots, scraping and so on. These tactics have a long and honorable history, but they have been slowly choked out of existence with a thicket of IP rights, like the IP rights that allow Facebook to shut down browser automation tools, which Ethan Zuckerman is suing to nullify:

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

Adversarial interop is very flexible. No matter what technological moves a company makes to interfere with interop, there's always a countermove the guerrilla fighter can make – tweak the scraper, decompile the new binary, change the bot's behavior. That's why tech companies use IP rights and courts, not firewall rules, to block adversarial interoperators.

At the same time, adversarial interop is unreliable. The solution that works today can break tomorrow if the company changes its back-end, and it will stay broken until the adversarial interoperator can respond.

But when companies are faced with the prospect of extended asymmetrical war against adversarial interop in the technological trenches, they often surrender. If companies can't sue adversarial interoperators out of existence, they often sue for peace instead. That's because high-tech guerrilla warfare presents unquantifiable risks and resource demands, and, as the scalesplainers never tire of telling us, this can create real operational problems for tech giants.

In other words, if Facebook can't shut down Ethan Zuckerman's browser automation tool in the courts, and if they're sincerely worried that a browser automation tool will uncheck its user interface buttons so quickly that it crashes the server, all it has to do is offer an official "unsubscribe all" button and no one will use Zuckerman's browser automation tool.

We don't have to choose between adversarial interop and interop mandates. The two are better together than they are apart. If companies building and operating DMA-compliant, mandatory gateways know that a failure to make them useful to rivals seeking to help users escape their authority is getting mired in endless hand-to-hand combat with trench-fighting adversarial interoperators, they'll have good reason to cooperate.

And if lawmakers charged with administering the DMA notice that companies are engaging in adversarial interop rather than using the official, reliable gateway they're overseeing, that's a good indicator that the official gateways aren't suitable.

It would be very on-brand for the EU to create the DMA and tell tech companies how they must operate, and for the USA to simply withdraw the state's protection from the Big Tech companies and let smaller companies try their luck at hacking new features into the big companies' servers without the government getting involved.

Indeed, we're seeing some of that today. Oregon just passed the first ever Right to Repair law banning "parts pairing" – basically a way of using IP law to make it illegal to reverse-engineer a device so you can fix it.

https://www.opb.org/article/2024/03/28/oregon-governor-kotek-signs-strong-tech-right-to-repair-bill/

Taken together, the two approaches – mandates and reverse engineering – are stronger than either on their own. Mandates are sturdy and reliable, but slow-moving. Adversarial interop is flexible and nimble, but unreliable. Put 'em together and you get a two-part epoxy, strong and flexible.

Governments can regulate well, with well-funded expert agencies and smart, adminstratable remedies. It's for that reason that the administrative state is under such sustained attack from the GOP and right-wing Dems. The illegitimate Supreme Court is on the verge of gutting expert agencies' power:

https://www.hklaw.com/en/insights/publications/2024/05/us-supreme-court-may-soon-discard-or-modify-chevron-deference

It's never been more important to craft regulations that go beyond mere good intentions and take account of adminsitratability. The easier we can make our rules to enforce, the less our beleaguered agencies will need to do to protect us from corporate predators.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/20/scalesplaining/#administratability

Image: Noah Wulf (modified) https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thunderbirds_at_Attention_Next_to_Thunderbird_1_-_Aviation_Nation_2019.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

[gambitandrogues]

YOU GOT EXPELLED??

LMAO YEAH BUT I MAINTAIN IT WASN’T MY FAULT (and tbf expelled is the most dramatic way of putting it, but also the funniest)

So let’s set the scene: autumn, 2022. My sister and I are homeschooled. You know how many classes there are for homeschooled kids in Pennsylvania? Nada.

There is one option, however.

The ultra-conservative Christian homeschool co-op in town.

My family being my family, we decide to risk it! It’s not…great, exactly, but not all the kids suck, and I’ve got the teachers wrapped around my finger. My sister has some negative experiences, though, and my parents decide to pull her out. Now, this is November, if I recall correctly? And the co-op said my parents still had to pay her tuition. In full. For the entire semester. My parents said “fuck no <3” and said they’d pay for the amount of weeks she attended. The school told them they had two weeks to change their mind, or measures would be taken. I think that gave them until November 15th.

I, meanwhile, am clueless! I knew my sister dropped out, but that was it. I was living laughing and loving. Until that fateful day. November 8th.

I had gotten to school a little early, and was hanging out in the break room until my first class started. An administrator I’d never spoken to came over and said she had to talk to me outside. I was like “??? Sure.” Once outside, she filled me on the situation with payment and told me that I was not supposed to be attending school until my parents had forked over the cash. That directly contradicted what they’d told my parents. Also they were supposed to have two weeks, until the 15th. It was the 8th.

Miss Administrator made me call my mom and ask her to come pick me up. Thank god my mom didn’t work far away lmfao. The co-op had me sit alone with my backpack outside until she came. And we have quite literally never heard from them again, not even about payment 😭

And that’s the story of how I got expelled ✨✨✨ like I said, that’s a harsh way of putting it. It was upsetting in the moment, but now I find it so fucking funny LMAO

[ivebeenabottleblonde]

Ok ranting sorry one of my roomates kinda reproach me that im not doing enough "for the community" (did not know that i signed for a fucking hippie commune but ok) and yeah fine i hear it but its bumming me out because idk i lent her my car for like 3 months, took care of most of the administrative stuff (which she is clueless about) when we moved in together and still now, but i feel like since its not bringing cakes and flowers so spontaneous and pretty it doesnt count to her. So yeah i feel its a bit unfair but idk maybe im deluding myself

[rotationalsymmetry]

To clarify the “liberal” thing I said earlier, individual liberals are kinda on a spectrum from clueless but well meaning to eh kinda sucks to pretty cool but pragmatic about what can be done in the foreseeable future. Anyone with enough wealth to run for fucking president is a complete scumbag though, you don’t get the money to run for president without selling your soul. Or in more realistic terms, without convincing a whole lot of corporate interests that you’re on their side, not the people’s side.

What that’s got to do with abortion I don’t know, but we’ve been anxious about the Supreme Court since like the Obama administration and Democrats have been running on “ooo you have to elect us or you might lose roe v wade” for over a decade, and only now does the possibility of passing a law come up? Yeah, they’ve been holding us hostage. This could have been sorted out if they wanted to sort it out.

[pridewon]

@deepsets​ said: "atsumu."  national boyfriend day, huh?  they don't particularly care about those sort of things.  national... what makes it so national?  ah, whatever.  they don't say anything else other than using a finger to lift atsumu under his chin to place a rather deep, lingering kiss upon his lips.  they pull away, keeping the closeness but looking deep into gold irises... only to stand back up and walk away like nothing has happened.

Incidentally, Atsumu isn’t the best at keeping track of dates either. Unless they are competitions and games, in which case - sure, he has them all memorised to a tee... birthdays are a bit trickier (giving his stupid brother plenty of leeway to have him believe, for three seconds, that he had forgotten their mother’s birthday - the traitor!), and anything beyond that? A lost cause. National day this, national day that... there are much bigger things on Atsumu Miya’s mind. 

For instance: his fucking taxes.

Head planted in the palm of his hand, Atsumu glares at the screen of his laptop, as though drilling into its very soul will somehow unveil the mysteries of fiscal administration that still elude him to this day; ironic, really, when he chastised Bokuto for being even more clueless than he was... finger tapping impatiently at his temple, Atsumu contemplates, for a moment, the possibility of calling this Akaashi guy to the rescue in exchange for a few onigiris from him brother’s (but then Bokkun would find out, and he would never hear the end of it). Ugh. Why does all of this feel like highschool tests all over again??

Atsumu mulls and festers in his own misery, having entirely forgotten about doing his taxes because internally complaining about them is a lot easier, and barely registers Kiyoomi entering the room; until they speak out and call his name: “Hm?” 

... see, it’s difficult to do taxes on a normal basis. People might accuse him of being stupid, call him an idiot and laugh at his seeming inability to perform basic adult tasks... yeah, well. He would very much dare them to try while simultaneously having their full attention captured and enraptured by Sakusa Kiyoomi’s lips. 

Because, see? That’s the thing with Kiyoomi, too. Kiyoomi doesn’t do affection. Kiyoomi doesn’t demand attention and Kiyoomi seldom gives it unless Atsumu demands / claims it. It used to be somewhat of a problem. It used to be a problem Atsumu has grown out of - or into, learning to speak Kiyoomi’s language... at the same time as Kiyoomi was learning his.

And sometimes, just sometimes... Kiyoomi foregoes the usual rules and takes it upon themself to remind him how far they’ve both gone.

Kiyoomi leaves his lips and takes his breath away in the same gesture; his heart frantically beating in his chest and in his ears (call him cheesy, but he could and would look into those deep dark eyes forever) - all attention hanging onto whatever Kiyoomi will say next...

... except Kiyoomi doesn’t say anything and walks away.

Wait.

Walks away??

“Eh?? Omi-kun??” Atsumu’s stunned silence bursts like a bubble; the storm replacing the calm in the snap of a second. Hold on! They can’t leave him like that!! What the hell was that even for?? ”Hey! Don’t leave me hangin’ like that!” Hell no they’re not escaping like that!! The chair scatters, and Atsumu scrambles to his feet, launching himself after his evil partner. “Sakusa Kiyoomi!! Get back ‘ere!”

[fractallogic]

Dad’s well-meaning but clueless about jobs in education friend: so if teaching at a university doesn’t work out, would you go teach high school?

Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ABSOLUTELY NOT

(It’s good to note probably that I’ve known this friend since I was a baby; I invited him and his wife to my wedding and was genuinely sorry they couldn’t make it, etc etc etc)

Him, taken aback: wait why??

Me: there’s no way I would want to receive a pay cut FROM MY POSTDOC SALARY of all things to then deal with even more intense administrative bullshit and then also have to deal with entitled parents on top of that

Him: not even a private school?? I’d think that would take care of the money and some of the administrative stuff

Me: they couldn’t pay me enough to even wake up that early, much less deal with everything else

— —

And now I just watched a YouTube video (v long, like 45 min) from a content-creator-teacher I really liked explaining why she quit teaching, expecting it to be like a DIFFERENT content-creator-teacher’s explanation of why she quit, and oh my god. It is so bad. According to the comments it’s not even that extraordinary, which is fucking horrifying.

And boy, until my dad’s friend asked me that, I hadn’t considered teaching K-12 (…let’s be realistic, 9-12) since 2012, when I was about to quit PhD school, or 2014, when I was about ready to quit again, or 2016-2018ish when I was like holy fuck the job market is somehow even worse than I thought, and that was really the last time I had any seriousness behind my consideration. And I keep an eye on things in K-12 education (which is easy, because so much of my family and so many of my friends teach K-12) in general wrt policy and pay and content being taught, and oh man. OH man. It’s. it’s not good.

If I was feeling at all sassy I would send him this video, but he’s also kind of argumentative (go figure, a boomer white guy who will just “discuss” with you mostly until his wife goes “MIKE! Leave her alone!”) and I’m not going to deal with that unless it comes up again lmfao

BUT ANYWAYS I’m psychically sending him this video so maybe he doesn’t ask me again about whether I’d ever consider teaching K-12 as opposed to going into the private sector if academia doesn’t work out

[fastlanehqs]

WELCOME TO MIDWAY, DUDE. Take a look our checklist for a few little deets before we get started.

OOC INFO

Alias: bel

Age: 30

Pronouns: they/them

Timezone: est

Triggers: [REDACTED]

What made you want to join fastlanehq?: the the vibes and the skeletons and the coming of age of it all are super interesting! and i looove rps that incorporate really interactive events and as an avid dnd-er, tabletop mechanics lol so seeing how you guys are planning on doing the events was a huge draw

If you aren’t chosen for your first skeleton choice, what are your second and third choices?*: [REDACTED]

Are you applying for a wanted connection? If so, which one? n/a

Anything else? for the song: riding on a railroad — james taylor. also if we are allowed to include extras i made a silly little pinterest and also a silly little playlist for ike… if not then forget i said anything…… thank you for taking the time to read my app! :)

IC BLURB

[ASA BUTTERFIELD, CIS MAN, HE/HIM] Well, well, well, [ISAAC “IKE” BRIERLY], after that stunt you and your friends pulled, half of town didn’t think you’d make it to graduation! Let alone turning [19]. You’re getting a reputation as [THE BOY NEXT DOOR] you know, it’s all the talk around [THE HUB WHILE YOU GO ABSOLUTELY BUCK-WILD ON THE PINBALL MACHINES]! Nevertheless, Principal Grauss announced your postgrad plans to [START YOUR FRESHMAN YEAR AT ‘BAMA TO MAJOR IN BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION] when you walked across that stage and got that diploma. Folks around Midway will always remember you as [EARNEST & SILLY] and [GAWKY & CLUELESS].

WRITING SAMPLE

Please choose at least one of the three prompts to respond to in character. There is no word minimum or maximum! 

It’s a new decade, the world is at war again, and your character has developed a recurring nightmare. Describe the nightmare and your character’s reaction to it.

It starts the same way every time. Ike is in the hallway at school. The last bell has just rung. There’s noise, laughter, voices, the slamming of lockers as everyone gets ready to go home for the day. It’s familiar, almost monotonous, but there’s something comforting about that. He opens his locker, which looks just the way he’s always left it, swaps out his books, and wades into the crowd of students that are all slowly shuffling their way towards the exit.

He rounds the corner only to find himself in the same hallway he was just in, only some of the people are gone. It gets quieter. He keeps walking. Around the next corner, same thing. He walks and walks and walks until he’s dizzy with the cycle, having flashbacks to when he was nine years old and got lost in the House of Mirrors at the summer carnival, until the hallways are empty and quiet except for the sound of his increasingly-frantic footsteps.

He stops to take a breath, and that’s when he hears it: a voice. Too distant to make out what they’re saying, but he’d recognize it anywhere regardless. He starts off again, chasing after the sound of THE NONCONFORMIST, but it’s all corners and hallways and corners and hallways and it never seems to get any closer. He calls their name. He rounds another corner, then skids to a stop. In front of him, right where it’s supposed to be, like it’s been there the whole time, is the door of the school. He approaches cautiously, like if he makes any sudden movements it’ll disappear again. The metal and glass are cool under his hands as he pushes it open.

He steps out onto a tidy lawn. There’s a little house, story book-perfect, with a porch and a neat little driveway and even a swingset in the backyard. God, there’s even a fucking white picket fence.

The front door opens and two children come running out, followed closely by a man. The kids look like him. Ike looks like him too, he thinks, but no, that’s not quite right — Ike is him, maybe a decade or so younger than the guy in front of him but two halves of a whole nonetheless. His other self is chasing the kids around, laughing, playing, and next a woman comes out of the house, watching the scene from the porch with an amused smile. She’s older, as well, but he knows instinctively he would recognize THE GIRL NEXT DOOR anywhere.

He wakes up.

He never remembers the details for more than a couple seconds, but the uneasiness and the ache in his heart is kind of hard to shake. Feeling like the world’s tipped sideways while you weren’t looking is normal, though, right? All of this is normal.

Nostalgia’s a drug, and sometimes your character catches themselves thinking about the good old days. Describe the last school dance they attended– the good, the bad, and the poofy.

It’s always his sweaty palms that do it. They’re the first and most obvious sign that the nerves that are always thrumming through Ike at a low level have gotten louder. The sweaty palms, the bouncing knee if he’s sitting, the shoulder rolls, the awkward laugh that always seems to bubble out of him almost unprompted. It starts while he’s tying his tie in the mirror, fumbling fingers pulling out the botched knot three times with increased exasperation until he finally gets it to lay properly, and he has a sinking feeling that it’s only going to be downhill from here.

Senior Prom is important. Ike doesn’t really know why it’s so important, just that it is. He really, really wants to get it right.

The pit in his stomach weighs heavy all the way to THE GIRL NEXT DOOR’s house, as he rings the bell he thinks he might choke on it — but then the door opens, and he sees her, and everything just stops. He can’t help but smile, the wide, slightly crooked grin that’s nothing but earnest. “You look — you look amazing,” he tells her, his voice on the verge of breathless, then takes her hand so he can tie the corsage he got her onto her wrist.

The night seems to go by almost like it’s following a script. Even the mishaps verge on cliche: Ike stepping on THE GIRL NEXT DOOR’s toes as he desperately tries to look like he knows what he’s doing on the dance floor, someone spilling their punch down his front and staining his tux a violent and unnatural shade of red. 

Later that night, when they’ve all had their last dance and everyone’s migrated out to the Moontower for the afterparty, Ike looks around at his friends and even though he knows this is one of the last times they’d all be together like this, that everything is going to change in just a few months, he takes comfort in knowing that everything has gone exactly the way it’s supposed to.

Or he tries to, anyways.

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

another funny thing about this chevron stuff. usually these conservatives and libertarian types are soooo opposed to the idea of judicial supremacy. but this ruling just affirms it and grants the courts even more power.

totally fucking clueless people. no fucking vision. like i've always said, these conservatives/libertarians are totally ineffectual with no concept of power and no will to wield it.

not to mention that this idea that it's the judicial branch's /exclusive/ power to interpret law just doesn't make sense. generally yeah, the judicial branch is the interpretive authority and yeah, there is a separation of powers. but even so, there are some areas where these powers are shared between branches.

the three branches are largely separate but there are many areas where their powers are shared/overlapped as a means of checking and balancing each power. the executive branch obviously needs to have the power to interpret laws and use their discretion in executing them. how else can they enforce them? they just gotta sit around and wait for some court or congress to micromanage them? and what if the judge is an activist judge appointed by the previous administration? or what if congress is gridlocked as it almost always is?

just so stupid

[lemontobacco]

I really thought I’d follow my dreams and move to a major city to study the arts and fall in love and I’m ending up in a program with no support or guidance where the administrators are totally clueless 3 months into a relationship with a tall blonde brilliantly intelligent and articulate lawyer who’s totally avoidant and neglectful and cold. Pleaaaaase send help. How do you break up with someone who won’t even talk to you! Who you really like! How do you survive in a city you love with no help!

I spent twenty minutes walking around this shitty library trying to find one fucking secluded spot and a girl just sat across from me I’m going to have. A Chernobyl level break down at 1pm ona. Wednesday

[emptywithout]

My new fucking mantra

[ultranos]

Do you think the majority of Ba Sing Se's residents would care about Azula's coup, or would it just be refugees and the likes of King Bearfood Kuei that see the difference as more than changing the accents of the powerful and the colour of the flag?

That's kind of hard to say, really. Normally, yeah, I'd expect a lot of people to be somewhat upset and of course there's a lot of resentment about being occupied by the Fire Nation.

However, there are two twists in this situation that could conceivably have the majority of residents thinking occupation wasn't as bad as it could have been (it's still very much Not A Good Thing, let's not kid ourselves that it was. The bar cleared here is "Not A Fucking Nighmare Hell". It is a very low one). And would possibly even lead to some conflicted feelings after the retaking during the comet.

The first is that as far as the EK residents are concerned, the coup was bloodless. A complete regime change where the common person didn't end up paying the largest price is...frankly unheard of. Not only that, but while it's funny that Azula put Joo Dee in charge, it's also an absolutely brilliant move. Because Joo Dee is not only EK herself, but has been a part of the administrative machine that runs Ba Sing Se, and probably one of the only people who have an actual clue as to how the actual infrastructure runs. It's people like her who would be making sure food got delivered and sanitation still worked, etc. The city can actually run pretty much exactly the way it did before, minus the threat of secret police. If the FN did not implement a brutal subjugation campaign in those few weeks it held the city, and instead took the lazy way approach and let the city run itself for awhile...it's really hard to say how disrupted people's lives actually were.

The other snarl is that retaking the city was not bloodless. And probably screwed up that exact infrastructure, destroyed people's homes, and if Kuei is back in charge, that's not getting fixed any time soon. Because Kuei has no experience actually governing. It is very likely that the common people suffered a lot during the retaking. So, they're not occupied, but their ruler is now the same out-of-touch and clueless man who let things get bad in the first place, and if he decides to do a reasonable thing and purge his government of the people who worked for the FN or Long Feng...well, there's not anyone who can teach him how to govern. So, they're not occupied, which is good, but I imagine there aren't a lot of them who are thrilled to be back under the old regime.

Basically, I'd expect the average resident to be indifferent to Azula herself at best and dislike her at worst, but generally not outright hate her. Really, she's at "not as bad as you could have been". And pretty much by virtue of not being the other guys.

Hate I could see being aimed at the men who let Long Feng have his reign of terror and were disinterested in anything outside their comfy lives, and who violently retook the city to regain that power. The Fire Nation held the city for a few weeks at most. Kuei's government, before and after? That is years of suffering.

Honestly, considering how much Kuei resembles the real Last Emperor Puyi...uh, do you want communist revolution? This is how you get communist revolution.

[vomitdodger]

Remind me again why anyone, OTHER than a politician with investment and corruption ties to Ukraine, really cares about the conflict in Ukraine in the grand scheme of things. Oil? Nope. We canceled keystone to get Russian oil. Borders? Nope. Look at our southern border. Ukraine president one week ago said no conflict imminent. Now this. So he is either gloriously clueless (unlikely) or gloriously corrupt. Just like Biden. This has a shit stain all over it. We should have nothing to do with it. Sadly people will die, but again, how many people die in America needlessly? Just look at VAERS. ALLLL a distraction from a stratospheric incompetent, illegal and corrupt presidential administration puppeted by the same global cabal that starts all wars and we get dragged into. Fuck em.

[spiderbirdo]

One thing I found exhausting in hades was how unsympathetic many people were to Zagreus? For example, one convo with Meg, I think Zagreus says he hopes she never changes and she said she hopes he does. The whole administration chamber scene where Zagreus shares he was never trained properly and he ends up reprimanded for it. The initial mood where everyone feels Zagreus is being ungrateful for wanting to escape an isolating, antagonistic environment.

I love how a huge point of the game is working to repairing relationships and growing as a person (god?), and I do get that Zagreus probably isn’t the most perfect person, but I hated seeing all the lashing out against him because it reminded me of a smothering household. Although, I do understand a lot was happening and most of it earth-shattering and chaotic.

Annnnnyway, I really love mortal coil and this exploration of how those negative aspects could have gone a very different path.

Also, how do you feel about that post where someone feels Zagreus is the god of blood, bonds, and rebirth?

oh boy. so uh i am kinda using zag as my personal punching bag for this whole uh generational trauma/parental abuse thing??? i never really intended for mortal coil to explore canon in so much as i am twisting canon to suit my vent art haha.

this might get a little long cuz i have a lot of feelings so its all under the cut

on zag’s life

my personal hc is that the house was cold and everyone was busy doing their own thing and no one said anything of substance. kind of like how it is in the game after you've exhausted everyone’s dialogue. it sad, no one says anything much, no real conversations and its super lonely. 

If life before escaping was constantly like that its no wonder Zag’s relationship with all these people remained stagnant for thousands of years. I know its a game mechanic where you give everyone gifts and slowly grow closer through the game but still? How are you not close to your surrogate mother? or your mentor who trained you? or the sleepy guy/kinda-sorta brother who hangs around all the time?

couple that with not knowing what you're the god of and your father constantly berating you for the smallest things. in the game zag doesn't treat it like a big deal and back sasses hades all the time so we don't think too hard about it but it does suck. 

on everyone's reactions

a lot of what everyone’s reaction to zag’s actions is pretty understandable cuz he might start a war. and to them, it looks like a spoiled prince is just throwing a tantrum.

which, yeah he kinda is.

he doesn't know much about the surface world and the Olympians are much worse than Hades. According to the myths they are so so petty and deal out really disproportionate punishments onto people who sometimes don't even deserve it. so if they found out about him tricking them into giving him boons to escape... yikes.

and if they found ou about the whole persephone thing demeter would come after zeus and hades. sides will be taken, arms will be drawn, destruction all around.

so yeah to them zag is a sheltered kid who doesnt do any work and who is suddenly inciting a potential war for the sake of a woman he doesnt even know

on mortal coil

ive said this before but this au really was because i liked the idea of a clueless confused zag who turned into a mortal leaving behind his godly body to bleed like a fountain for all eternity. and also cuz the main game didn't punch me in the gut like Transistor and Pyre did.

aaand then people asked for more. I never intended for the story to go on for as long as it did haha. all the angst is just me. persephone being so fucking afraid of her mother's wrath, ana feeling guilt over everyone around him dying, meg feeling angry over something she cant control, hades' quiet stoic assholish grief, even zag's hypothetical childhood where he feels useless all the time is just me projecting.

any exploration of zag's terrible childhood is accidental haha.

on zag being god of blood, life and bonds

first of all YES. love that life and death romance shit. and it makes a lot of sense seeing that he reunited like 3 estranged couples. i dont have anything deep to say about it, its just cool as shit