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imyourbratzdoll · 4 months

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𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔

part 6 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - demons lingered in the back of your mind, causing you to think you aren't good enough and it doesn't help that steve is ignoring you.

warning - bad thoughts, self-hate, mentions of cheating, angst, barely eating, emotionally drained, feeling like you aren't good enough.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 7

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

What if you and Steve were meant to part ways, only so that you could find each other again. What if you were destined for each other? But instead of being together now, you both needed to grow separately, and soon the two of you would meet again in the coming years when you were both ready.

You didn’t know who you were anymore. You were no longer the person you were before you met Johnny, and you weren’t exactly who you were when you were with him. You felt stuck and horrible. You hadn’t gotten better after the divorce, not even when Steve entered your life.

Somehow, you lit up his darkness and he silenced your mind. Around him, you felt as though you could finally breathe. But why couldn’t you relax?

Your eyes fluttered open as you woke from your slumber and you just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. It had been a few weeks since you bumped into Steve and you wondered if you had done something wrong.

Steve helped you with your bags, placing them on your kitchen counter before he turned and looked around your place with a smile, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets. “You have a nice place, it suits you.” God, why could you two stare at each other and feel so connected, but then so awkward when trying to find something to talk about.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to help me.” You gesture towards the bags before you begin to unpack them, hoping that the cold products haven't warmed too much.

Steve waves you off. “I didn’t mind. Like I said, I wanted to help.” It felt so natural as he began to unpack the other bag, like this was your routine. The two of you moved so gracefully, like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into its spot as you moved around the kitchen, putting things away.

Once you finished, your eyes locked onto Steve’s as he leant against the counter. “W–Would you like something to drink? Or eat?” You watched his eyes flicker down to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Water, please.” Did his voice get deeper? You felt like you could drop at any second with how he looked at you. You moved quickly, hands shaking slightly as you filled up a glass before handing it over to him. Steve grabs it gently from you, his fingers brushing against yours and sparks erupt at the touch, causing a soft gasp to escape you. “Thank you.”

You watched him drink, how could such a normal thing look so hot and sinful when he did it? His eyes never left yours, but yours left his when he moved the glass away from his mouth. You watched his tongue flick out as he collected the water that glistened against his lips. This felt so wrong, but so right at the same time.

You blink and clear your throat, quickly moving away from him before you do something you may regret. Steve moves over to the sink, washing the glass for you before putting it away. Your mouth hangs open slightly, not even Johnny did that. You would always have to clean up after him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stop comparing the two!

But they look so alike… You can’t help but think. It was strange.

You shake your head from your thoughts as Steve touches your shoulder gently. “Are you okay?”

You hum. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You felt like you were suffocating, like this was all a dream. If this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake from it. You let out a shuddering breath as you stare into Steve’s eyes, you could see concern swirling around. “I’m okay. I just got lost in my thoughts.”

Steve nods as if he understands, and the weirdest thing was that every thought seemed to disappear as his hand brushed against your hip. Neither of you could deny the pull, and it scared the hell out of you.

You barely knew Steve, and yet you felt so safe with him. You nearly cried as he pulled away, stepping back, his hand now falling to his side. His phone didn’t go off, but he pulled it out. “I have to go, my friend messaged me.” He gestured to his phone, and you felt your heart sink. Maybe it was inevitable, maybe deep down all men really were the same. Be it in friend, brother, father, or lover form. It was a curse that no woman could seem to break. “It was lovely to see you again, and if you ever need me. I’m right across from you.” He gave a smile so fake that you wanted to believe it to be real. And then he left, leaving you to stand there as your thoughts crashed into you.

You blink tiredly from the memory.

Maybe he got scared as well. Maybe he had his own demons, one in the form of an ex. Your chest tightened at the thought of him with someone else, and then you sighed.

He’s not yours, idiot. He never will be, so stop being so pathetic.

You groan, your thoughts have become meaner lately. You slide out of bed and head over to your closet, scratching your head as you stare at your clothes. Your lip turns as you don’t like anything you see, maybe this would be a good time to have a day to yourself. Well, technically everyday now is to yourself because you left your husband after catching him fucking your best friend.

Your nose scrunches as the image of them fucking pops up into your head. They were your own demons that would possibly forever haunt you.

You grab some jeans, a plain black shirt and underwear before heading into your bathroom. As you place your things down onto the bathroom counter, your eyes catch your reflection, and it was like death was staring back at you. It seemed the physical toll had slipped from your attention, you had thought you were doing okay aside from the nasty thoughts. Sure, you didn’t eat as often, but it wasn’t because you were starving yourself. You just hadn’t been as hungry, anytime you would go to eat, those two would pop up into your head and your appetite would disappear.

You stripped before slipping under the water. Now you understood why Steve would avoid you like the plague whenever you bumped into him in the hallway.

You hated this stupid pull that you kept feeling, it was like a constant tugging. It kept trying to pull you in the direction of Steve, like somehow it knew he was close and craved him to be near you. You wished you could grab some scissors and cut the cord that was attaching you to him. Maybe then he could be free of you, free of the burden you seemed to carry.

You shoved your head underwater, wanting these thoughts to disappear. Maybe taking you along with them. You stand under the shower for a bit longer before slowly getting out and drying yourself off. You don’t dare look in the mirror in fear of what you would see. You hurriedly dress yourself and walk out of the room, grabbing your shoes and bag.

As you exit your apartment, you are met with Steve leaving his. Your eyes widen for a split second before you quickly look down and walk away, not caring that you didn’t lock your door. You didn’t want to burden him with your presence. When you’ve made quite a distance between the two of you, you let out a deep sigh.

Was this how it was going to be for you? Forever cursed from love and happiness?

You were going to be okay. You had to be.

Steve watched with a saddened look as you walked away. He knew he was being an arse, he didn’t mean to, really. It was just that anytime he was around you, or thinking about you, he would feel this intense feeling wash over him. Steve had felt those feelings the first time he bumped into you and then the second two years later. He was scared, scared that he may end up hurting you. Of course, he didn’t know he was already doing that.

You walked through the doors of a local second-hand shop, a place you generally enjoyed shopping at. You head straight towards the clothing section, beginning to flick through.

“Wanda! Did I tell you the news about Steve?” Without meaning to, your ears perk up at the name. You knew it could be a possibility that it was another Steve, but subconsciously you listened in.

You had heard that voice before, though. You just didn’t know where from…

“No, what about him?” You pick out a few pieces of clothing as you listen in.

“He finally found someone! He met her once before, but they ran into each other again!” A tug at your heart, even though the person might not be your Steve. “He constantly spoke about her even when he didn’t even know her, now that has doubled. You remember right?”

The other woman hums. “Oh yeah, isn’t that why everyone teases him?”

You round the corner, eyes widening a bit when you spot the woman talking. She was the same one from when you had bumped into Steve the first time. Your heart tugs like crazy because you knew this couldn’t be you, they were talking about. Steve had been ignoring you, so why would he talk about you to his friends?

Natasha looks up as she’s about to reply and you immediately look down, pretending you are looking through the clothes in your arms. You don’t see her nudge the woman next to her, gesturing to you or the fact that they are now approaching until it’s too late.

“Hi. I know you.” You look up surprised. Natasha smiles teasingly. “You’re Steve’s girl!”

You shake your head, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Uh no… I’m not his girl…” You stumble slightly. “I—I know him! But uh, we aren’t…” You gulp, this was painful.

The women smile. “Okay, you aren’t his girl now. But you will be!” Wanda replied, a giant grin on her face. “Oh, sorry! Hi, I’m Wanda!”

“Y/n, and I don’t think so. Steve and I aren’t even friends.” You begin to chew on your bottom lip, needing someone to talk to about this, but you didn’t have any friends… You also didn’t know if you could trust having a friend again. You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry.

Natasha’s brows furrow, “Wait, don’t you guys live across from each other?” You nod, “And you don’t talk?” You shake your head.

“Dumbarse” She mutters under her breath, shaking her head. “I’m sorry about Steve. He’s made it sound like you guys were close.” Natasha facepalms. “I am so going to kick his arse when I see him.”

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.” You try to fake a smile, but it feels like they can see through it.

Wanda grins. “Why don’t you join us? We can forget about men and just shop!”

You made it back to your apartment after spending the day with Wanda and Natasha, you hadn’t felt this happy in a while. As you hit the last step, your head lifts and your eyes connect with those beautiful blue ones. You feel your throat dry and your stomach twist.

“Y/n…” You slowly move forward, berating yourself for allowing your heart to feel something for him. You were already so broken, why did you think anyone could love you. Your gaze flickers to the bouquet of flowers in his hands, noticing how they shake slightly. Maybe he had a date and wasn’t expecting you to show as he was leaving.

You continue to walk, hoping to slide past him and into the safety of your home. Even though it felt so lonely inside. Steve reaches out, grasping your arm gently, causing you to stop and look at him. Neither of you can ignore the spark that lights from your touch. Unable to ignore the pull anymore, it felt as though time had stilled as you once again locked eyes.

“I’m sorry… I’ve been an arse.” Steve frowns, all of the negative feelings he’s been feeling have finally come crashing down on him.

You shake your head, giving another one of your fake smiles. “You don’t have to apologise, Steve. It’s not like we were friends or anything, you don’t need to be nice to me.”

His hold on you tightens slightly, Steve wonders who the hell hurt you to make you think that. He stares deeply into your eyes, hoping that you can see he’s telling the truth. “I do. Because I am sorry. You didn’t deserve me ignoring you, especially if you think it has anything to do with you. I was in the wrong, and I’d like to make it up to you if you allow me.”

Another choice for you to make. One where it could go incredibly well or one you would regret forever.

You stare at him for a few seconds, trying to find a sliver of a lie. Your gaze moves down, and you look at the flowers. “I got these for you… I didn’t want to apologise empty–handed.”

And like that, your demons quietened. “I’ve never received flowers before…” His love roared louder than your demons, silencing them.

You looked back up at him and made your choice.

The gravitational pull between you had become stronger, finally feeling like it was ready. It seemed the universe and all the galaxies had a talk and said,

“Yeah, It’s time.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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Pluralistic: Leaving Twitter had no effect on NPR's traffic

I'm coming to Minneapolis! This Sunday (Oct 15): Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Monday (Oct 16): Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

Enshittification is the process by which a platform lures in and then captures end users (stage one), who serve as bait for business customers, who are also captured (stage two), whereupon the platform rug-pulls both groups and allocates all the value they generate and exchange to itself (stage three):

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

Enshittification isn't merely a form of rent-seeking – it is a uniquely digital phenomenon, because it relies on the inherent flexibility of digital systems. There are lots of intermediaries that want to extract surpluses from customers and suppliers – everyone from grocers to oil companies – but these can't be reconfigured in an eyeblink the that that purely digital services can.

A sleazy boss can hide their wage-theft with a bunch of confusing deductions to your paycheck. But when your boss is an app, it can engage in algorithmic wage discrimination, where your pay declines minutely every time you accept a job, but if you start to decline jobs, the app can raise the offer:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

I call this process "twiddling": tech platforms are equipped with a million knobs on their back-ends, and platform operators can endlessly twiddle those knobs, altering the business logic from moment to moment, turning the system into an endlessly shifting quagmire where neither users nor business customers can ever be sure whether they're getting a fair deal:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

Social media platforms are compulsive twiddlers. They use endless variation to lure in – and then lock in – publishers, with the goal of converting these standalone businesses into commodity suppliers who are dependent on the platform, who can then be charged rent to reach the users who asked to hear from them.

Facebook designed this playbook. First, it lured in end-users by promising them a good deal: "Unlike Myspace, which spies on you from asshole to appetite, Facebook is a privacy-respecting site that will never, ever spy on you. Simply sign up, tell us everyone who matters to you, and we'll populate a feed with everything they post for public consumption":

https://lawcat.berkeley.edu/record/1128876

The users came, and locked themselves in: when people gather in social spaces, they inadvertently take one another hostage. You joined Facebook because you liked the people who were there, then others joined because they liked you. Facebook can now make life worse for all of you without losing your business. You might hate Facebook, but you like each other, and the collective action problem of deciding when and whether to go, and where you should go next, is so difficult to overcome, that you all stay in a place that's getting progressively worse.

Once its users were locked in, Facebook turned to advertisers and said, "Remember when we told these rubes we'd never spy on them? It was a lie. We spy on them with every hour that God sends, and we'll sell you access to that data in the form of dirt-cheap targeted ads."

Then Facebook went to the publishers and said, "Remember when we told these suckers that we'd only show them the things they asked to see? Total lie. Post short excerpts from your content and links back to your websites and we'll nonconsensually cram them into the eyeballs of people who never asked to see them. It's a free, high-value traffic funnel for your own site, bringing monetizable users right to your door."

Now, Facebook had to find a way to lock in those publishers. To do this, it had to twiddle. By tiny increments, Facebook deprioritized publishers' content, forcing them to make their excerpts grew progressively longer. As with gig workers, the digital flexibility of Facebook gave it lots of leeway here. Some publishers sensed the excerpts they were being asked to post were a substitute for visiting their sites – and not an enticement – and drew down their posting to Facebook.

When that happened, Facebook could twiddle in the publisher's favor, giving them broader distribution for shorter excerpts, then, once the publisher returned to the platform, Facebook drew down their traffic unless they started posting longer pieces. Twiddling lets platforms play users and business-customers like a fish on a line, giving them slack when they fight, then reeling them in when they tire.

Once Facebook converted a publisher to a commodity supplier to the platform, it reeled the publishers in. First, it deprioritized publishers' posts when they had links back to the publisher's site (under the pretext of policing "clickbait" and "malicious links"). Then, it stopped showing publishers' content to their own subscribers, extorting them to pay to "boost" their posts in order to reach people who had explicitly asked to hear from them.

For users, this meant that their feeds were increasingly populated with payola-boosted content from advertisers and pay-to-play publishers who paid Facebook's Danegeld to reach them. A user will only spend so much time on Facebook, and every post that Facebook feeds that user from someone they want to hear from is a missed opportunity to show them a post from someone who'll pay to reach them.

Here, too, twiddling lets Facebook fine-tune its approach. If a user starts to wean themself off Facebook, the algorithm (TM) can put more content the user has asked to see in the feed. When the user's participation returns to higher levels, Facebook can draw down the share of desirable content again, replacing it with monetizable content. This is done minutely, behind the scenes, automatically, and quickly. In any shell game, the quickness of the hand deceives the eye.

This is the final stage of enshittification: withdrawing surpluses from end-users and business customers, leaving behind the minimum homeopathic quantum of value for each needed to keep them locked to the platform, generating value that can be extracted and diverted to platform shareholders.

But this is a brittle equilibrium to maintain. The difference between "God, I hate this place but I just can't leave it" and "Holy shit, this sucks, I'm outta here" is razor-thin. All it takes is one privacy scandal, one livestreamed mass-shooting, one whistleblower dump, and people bolt for the exits. This kicks off a death-spiral: as users and business customers leave, the platform's shareholders demand that they squeeze the remaining population harder to make up for the loss.

One reason this gambit worked so well is that it was a long con. Platform operators and their investors have been willing to throw away billions convincing end-users and business customers to lock themselves in until it was time for the pig-butchering to begin. They financed expensive forays into additional features and complementary products meant to increase user lock-in, raising the switching costs for users who were tempted to leave.

For example, Facebook's product manager for its "photos" product wrote to Mark Zuckerberg to lay out a strategy of enticing users into uploading valuable family photos to the platform in order to "make switching costs very high for users," who would have to throw away their precious memories as the price for leaving Facebook:

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

The platforms' patience paid off. Their slow ratchets operated so subtly that we barely noticed the squeeze, and when we did, they relaxed the pressure until we were lulled back into complacency. Long cons require a lot of prefrontal cortex, the executive function to exercise patience and restraint.

Which brings me to Elon Musk, a man who seems to have been born without a prefrontal cortex, who has repeatedly and publicly demonstrated that he lacks any restraint, patience or planning. Elon Musk's prefrontal cortical deficit resulted in his being forced to buy Twitter, and his every action since has betrayed an even graver inability to stop tripping over his own dick.

Where Zuckerberg played enshittification as a long game, Musk is bent on speedrunning it. He doesn't slice his users up with a subtle scalpel, he hacks away at them with a hatchet.

Musk inaugurated his reign by nonconsensually flipping every user to an algorithmic feed which was crammed with ads and posts from "verified" users whose blue ticks verified solely that they had $8 ($11 for iOS users). Where Facebook deployed substantial effort to enticing users who tired of eyeball-cramming feed decay by temporarily improving their feeds, Musk's Twitter actually overrode users' choice to switch back to a chronological feed by repeatedly flipping them back to more monetizable, algorithmic feeds.

Then came the squeeze on publishers. Musk's Twitter rolled out a bewildering array of "verification" ticks, each priced higher than the last, and publishers who refused to pay found their subscribers taken hostage, with Twitter downranking or shadowbanning their content unless they paid.

(Musk also squeezed advertisers, keeping the same high prices but reducing the quality of the offer by killing programs that kept advertisers' content from being published along Holocaust denial and open calls for genocide.)

Today, Musk continues to squeeze advertisers, publishers and users, and his hamfisted enticements to make up for these depredations are spectacularly bad, and even illegal, like offering advertisers a new kind of ad that isn't associated with any Twitter account, can't be blocked, and is not labeled as an ad:

https://www.wired.com/story/xs-sneaky-new-ads-might-be-illegal/

Of course, Musk has a compulsive bullshitter's contempt for the press, so he has far fewer enticements for them to stay. Quite the reverse: first, Musk removed headlines from link previews, rendering posts by publishers that went to their own sites into stock-art enigmas that generated no traffic:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/oct/05/x-twitter-strips-headlines-new-links-why-elon-musk

Then he jumped straight to the end-stage of enshittification by announcing that he would shadowban any newsmedia posts with links to sites other than Twitter, "because there is less time spent if people click away." Publishers were advised to "post content in long form on this platform":

https://mamot.fr/@pluralistic/111183068362793821

Where a canny enshittifier would have gestured at a gaslighting explanation ("we're shadowbanning posts with links because they might be malicious"), Musk busts out the motto of the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal, pray I don't alter it any further."

All this has the effect of highlighting just how little residual value there is on the platform for publishers, and tempts them to bolt for the exits. Six months ago, NPR lost all patience with Musk's shenanigans, and quit the service. Half a year later, they've revealed how low the switching cost for a major news outlet that leaves Twitter really are: NPR's traffic, post-Twitter, has declined by less than a single percentage point:

https://niemanreports.org/articles/npr-twitter-musk/

NPR's Twitter accounts had 8.7 million followers, but even six months ago, Musk's enshittification speedrun had drawn down NPR's ability to reach those users to a negligible level. The 8.7 million number was an illusion, a shell game Musk played on publishers like NPR in a bid to get them to buy a five-figure iridium checkmark or even a six-figure titanium one.

On Twitter, the true number of followers you have is effectively zero – not because Twitter users haven't explicitly instructed the service to show them your posts, but because every post in their feeds that they want to see is a post that no one can be charged to show them.

I've experienced this myself. Three and a half years ago, I left Boing Boing and started pluralistic.net, my cross-platform, open access, surveillance-free, daily newsletter and blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/drei-drei-drei/#now-we-are-three

Boing Boing had the good fortune to have attracted a sizable audience before the advent of siloed platforms, and a large portion of that audience came to the site directly, rather than following us on social media. I knew that, starting a new platform from scratch, I wouldn't have that luxury. My audience would come from social media, and it would be up to me to convert readers into people who followed me on platforms I controlled – where neither they nor I could be held to ransom.

I embraced a strategy called POSSE: Post Own Site, Syndicate Everywhere. With POSSE, the permalink and native habitat for your material is a site you control (in my case, a WordPress blog with all the telemetry, logging and surveillance disabled). Then you repost that content to other platforms – mostly social media – with links back to your own site:

https://indieweb.org/POSSE

There are a lot of automated tools to help you with this, but the platforms have gone to great lengths to break or neuter them. Musk's attack on Twitter's legendarily flexible and powerful API killed every automation tool that might help with this. I was lucky enough to have a reader – Loren Kohnfelder – who coded me some python scripts that automate much of the process, but POSSE remains a very labor-intensive and error-prone methodology:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/13/two-decades/#hfbd

And of all the feeds I produce – email, RSS, Discourse, Medium, Tumblr, Mastodon – none is as labor-intensive as Twitter's. It is an unforgiving medium to begin with, and Musk's drawdown of engineering support has made it wildly unreliable. Many's the time I've set up 20+ posts in a thread, only to have the browser tab reload itself and wipe out all my work.

But I stuck with Twitter, because I have a half-million followers, and to the extent that I reach them there, I can hope that they will follow the permalinks to Pluralistic proper and switch over to RSS, or email, or a daily visit to the blog.

But with each day, the case for using Twitter grows weaker. I get ten times as many replies and reposts on Mastodon, though my Mastodon follower count is a tenth the size of my (increasingly hypothetical) Twitter audience.

All this raises the question of what can or should be done about Twitter. One possible regulatory response would be to impose an "End-To-End" rule on the service, requiring that Twitter deliver posts from willing senders to willing receivers without interfering in them. End-To-end is the bedrock of the internet (one of its incarnations is Net Neutrality) and it's a proven counterenshittificatory force:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-need-end-end-web

Despite what you may have heard, "freedom of reach" is freedom of speech: when a platform interposes itself between willing speakers and their willing audiences, it arrogates to itself the power to control what we're allowed to say and who is allowed to hear us:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

We have a wide variety of tools to make a rule like this stick. For one thing, Musk's Twitter has violated innumerable laws and consent decrees in the US, Canada and the EU, which creates a space for regulators to impose "conduct remedies" on the company.

But there's also existing regulatory authorities, like the FTC's Section Five powers, which enable the agency to act against companies that engage in "unfair and deceptive" acts. When Twitter asks you who you want to hear from, then refuses to deliver their posts to you unless they pay a bribe, that's both "unfair and deceptive":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

But that's only a stopgap. The problem with Twitter isn't that this important service is run by the wrong mercurial, mediocre billionaire: it's that hundreds of millions of people are at the mercy of any foolish corporate leader. While there's a short-term case for improving the platforms, our long-term strategy should be evacuating them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

To make that a reality, we could also impose a "Right To Exit" on the platforms. This would be an interoperability rule that would require Twitter to adopt Mastodon's approach to server-hopping: click a link to export the list of everyone who follows you on one server, click another link to upload that file to another server, and all your followers and followees are relocated to your new digs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/23/semipermeable-membranes/#free-as-in-puppies

A Twitter with the Right To Exit would exert a powerful discipline even on the stunted self-regulatory centers of Elon Musk's brain. If he banned a reporter for publishing truthful coverage that cast him in a bad light, that reporter would have the legal right to move to another platform, and continue to reach the people who follow them on Twitter. Publishers aghast at having the headlines removed from their Twitter posts could go somewhere less slipshod and still reach the people who want to hear from them on Twitter.

And both Right To Exit and End-To-End satisfy the two prime tests for sound internet regulation: first, they are easy to administer. If you want to know whether Musk is permitting harassment on his platform, you have to agree on a definition of harassment, determine whether a given act meets that definition, and then investigate whether Twitter took reasonable steps to prevent it.

By contrast, administering End-To-End merely requires that you post something and see if your followers receive it. Administering Right To Exit is as simple as saying, "OK, Twitter, I know you say you gave Cory his follower and followee file, but he says he never got it. Just send him another copy, and this time, CC the regulator so we can verify that it arrived."

Beyond administration, there's the cost of compliance. Requiring Twitter to police its users' conduct also requires it to hire an army of moderators – something that Elon Musk might be able to afford, but community-supported, small federated servers couldn't. A tech regulation can easily become a barrier to entry, blocking better competitors who might replace the company whose conduct spurred the regulation in the first place.

End-to-End does not present this kind of barrier. The default state for a social media platform is to deliver posts from accounts to their followers. Interfering with End-To-End costs more than delivering the messages users want to have. Likewise, a Right To Exit is a solved problem, built into the open Mastodon protocol, itself built atop the open ActivityPub standard.

It's not just Twitter. Every platform is consuming itself in an orgy of enshittification. This is the Great Enshittening, a moment of universal, end-stage platform decay. As the platforms burn, calls to address the fires grow louder and harder for policymakers to resist. But not all solutions to platform decay are created equal. Some solutions will perversely enshrine the dominance of platforms, help make them both too big to fail and too big to jail.

Musk has flagrantly violated so many rules, laws and consent decrees that he has accidentally turned Twitter into the perfect starting point for a program of platform reform and platform evacuation.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/14/freedom-of-reach/#ex

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

Image: JD Lasica (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Elon_Musk_%283018710552%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #twitter #posse #elon musk #x #social media #graceful failure modes #end-to-end principle #administratable remedies #good regulation #ads #privacy #benevolent dictatorships #freedom of reach #journalism #enshittification #switching costs

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vanya-evergreen · 4 months

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How to Remember (Chapter 3)

Relationship: Batfam x reader (platonic)

Summary: At the age of 11, you woke up in an other world without any guidance and all the money you once lacked. You were left with only your memeories and your other memories.

You tired to remember, their life, but it seemed like they didn't want you too. So when trying to navigate the intricate sides of an elite school, but you always got in trouble when it came to faces and names.

Cw: Slight disassociation

No use of Y/n

Wc: 5.8k

Masterlist

VROOOOOM

The drive back to the manor was silent. The night is slowly moving on as they cruise along the tunnel leading back to the manor. This isn’t unusual for Bruce and Damian. They would always get in some type of fight with each other causing them to ignore each other, but this time is different. Bruce seems off. Damian knows that his father would never let his emotions show easily. So picking up on something being off with him, even if only Damian could see a glimpse of it, is a rare moment.

Damian observes his father. Bruce didn’t move to speech, only blankly staring down the tunnel. Damian knows only one thing would make him so stuck, you. He isn’t sure why but it has to be you. From the photo on the wall to the way Bruce seemed far more concerned with your well being after tonight then he would for any normal civilian. You mean something to Bruce, and Damian hates that he doesn’t know why. Sure, you are very interesting to watch, and seem to have a decent head on your shoulders, for most things.

But why you?

What makes you the one to make Bruce Wayne, The Batman, lose his indifferent attitude? He always cares for the people they are saving but never in the way Bruce seems to be so concerned with you. When they pull into the Batcave, Bruce wastes no time getting out of the car and on to the Computer. Alfred stands idly by with medical equipment, and tea in hand.

“Good evening to you too master Bruce.” Alfred says with an abundance of sarcasm, his eyes follow Bruce across the room. “What has you in such a hurry tonight?” Alfred was pouring a cup of tea and handing it to Damian as he approached him. Bruce doesn’t respond, he is pulling up all known social media sites looking for the same thing ‘Gotham drone fight’. The screen is flooded with videos of you early that night, of you. Alfred drops trays when he sees you, He stares at your face on the computer, the way you smile. “Is that…”

“___, Yes.” Bruce grabs his chins and leans bad in his chair. Alfred quickly starts to clean up the dropped tray and its content, he places them to the side as he walks closer to the computer. “They are different.”

“They are difficult.” Damian states matter-of-factly. He sets the empty tea cup aside as he walks over to the computer. He watches the video of you punching the man, you claimed you knew how to fight from martial arts but this seemed more like something someone would learn to survive, it was too inconsistent of material arts. Your kick is from material arts, it was clean and precise. “Father, how do you know them?”

“It doesn’t matter Damian” Bruce stares at the video for a while longer before he moves it to the side and brings up records for you. They all seem to be outdated as they only have a photo of you when you were younger. God, you looked depressed as a child. He starts clicking on other files bringing them, comparing and contrasting them to the video of today.

“I think it does matter when you can’t even think when they are in danger” Damian points out. He always knew how to get under his father's skin. Bruce stops, and slowly turns his chair towards Damian. “Don't think I didn’t see how you froze up when they had a knife against their throat.”

“That was nothing," Bruce dismisses Damian's accusation as he turns back around to the computer, clicking on different files. For a few moments there is only the sound of typing and clicking in the room. Damian was trying to get a read on his father, what was he thinking at this very moment? He looks at the computer, most of this stuff was things he had found in his earlier research. Bruce reads the files so intently that it was almost like he was reading about someone from their family. Damian continues to watch his father, until a family portrait, or a photo of one.

It is a photo of a damaged portrait from both a fire and some type of tear, it looked like it was from a police investigation. Damian stares at it, there is a family of 3 in that portrait, only a mother and child are recognizably human, the father didn’t have and upper half. The mothers face is unrecognizable due to the damage, but the child has a bit more of a face then the mother. He moves closer to the computer. Bruce is too distracted by the other file and photos to notice Damian looking over his shoulder. Alfred, on the other hand, is watching Damian closely, he tensed up as Damian's eyes grew sharper.

Damian looks closely and the child’s face, only half of their face is barely intact. The child’s looks as if they are staring into his soul, reading all of his secrets, they have a detached look in their eyes. Damian almost missed the familiarity because of the unsettling eyes. Damian feels Alfred's eye on him, but he has had enough of them avoiding his questions “Who is the-” Damian starts, but before he could get another word out Alfred pushes him toward the exit of the cave. “Alfred, what's going on?” He tries to dig his feet into the floor with little success.

“It is almost 8:00 am, Master Damian.” Alfred is rather abrupt, he is in a rush. “While master Bruce should also go to bed, he is an adult and I can't make that decision for him but I can for you.” Alfred ushered Damian to the exit even quicker.

“Father, are you going to let him do this?” Damian holds back Alfred for a moment to see if he can get a reaction out of him.

“Alfred is right Damian, you should go to bed, we have a big day ahead of us.” Bruce nods as he continues to read over things. Alfred pushes Damian into the elevator and pushes the button to go up.

“Master Damian, please don’t ask Master Bruce about this, at least not today.” Alfred states in a hushed tone, he gives Damian an earnest expression. Alfred hopes Damian could understand, maybe one day. Damian folds his arms as the doors close, leaving Alfred and Bruce in the Batcave to continue their work.

Damian is furious. What make you so important to them? Damian is greeted by Titus waiting for him outside of the entrance. Damian pets his head quickly as he exits the elevator. He knows something is up now, and what his father and Alfred are hiding has something to do with you. He wants to know, no. He needs to know. He will know. Instead of walking to his room to sleep, he walks into the kitchen to feed his pets before he goes to sleep. When he walks into the kitchen, he meets 2 other people in there. One of them is grabbing food from the fridge as his laptop is resting on the countertop with his phone being right next to with articles pulled up on, and the other one is eating cereal while scrolling through his phone.

“Good morning, Damian” Duke takes another bite of his cereal as his clicks on another video of last nights fight. “How was patrol last night?” Duke looks over his phone at Damian, smirking. Damian clenched his fist and grits his teeth. Duke, laughs at him . Damian takes a deep breathe and closes eyes, he doesn’t have the energy to deal with this. He walks over to a cabinet, opens it and takes out food for Titus, as well as his other pets.

“It was fine, Thomas, just busy.” Wow did he sound like his father with the vague answers. He picks up Titus’s bowl and pours some kibble in it.

“Oh really, Nothing

He stops and looks at Tim still standing in front of the fridge with the door wide open. “Drake, What are you doing?” He puts the bowl of food in front of Titus and walks over to Tim, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Tim jumps at the sudden contact, he quickly turns his head and holds his breathe. “Oh,” He lets out a sigh of relief and annoyance, because it was only Damian, and it was Damian. “I am grabbing food.” He pulls out an apple and a slice of cheese. Damian raises an eyebrow, Tim looks tired. Well he almost always is but he looks like he is trying to break the world record for the amount of time a human goes without sleep. Tim looks at his hands and puts back the slice of cheese and takes out the milk instead.

“Drake, you should really think about something more nutritional than cereal.” Damian snaps at Tim as he walks out of the kitchen. Duke stop mid bite and looks down at his food. Duke turns to say something but Damian is already half down the hall.

Damian is getting really tired of this cat mouse game when it comes to information about you. He is going to find out the truth, even if that means going to you.

“Okay,” Percy clasps they hands together and exhales “ So you fought the man that held a knife to your throat, in front of Batman and Robin, and it went viral?” Percy says through their gritted teeth. You were looking through one of the multiple clothing rank of formal clothing that take up most of your foyer, which was already pretty large in itself. You sway back an forth, trying to avoid answering the question.

“Uh, I guess you could say that…” You slowly turn you back to them trying to act like you are looking at other clothes,

“Of course.” Precy shout exacerbated, throwing their arms up into the air.

“I can never understand how you change up so fast ___” Val laughs softly as he pats Percy’s shoulder, “I have never seen someone go from cry on my shoulder to being almost completely normal in less than 24 hours.”

“Maybe it’s because I have my therapy appointment on monday” You suggest “and we all that when I go longer then 3 week without talking to her I go completely off the rail, ” you gesture toward the rows and rows of clothes.

“Then why are you going at all!” Percy screams gripping their hair and pulls on it. You giggle and and shrug you shoulders. “No thats bullshit. Tell me the real reason now.”

“Fine-” you roll your eye, “I meet damian wayne yesterday at school, by running into him, we talked, and I want to mess with him” you look away from them. Their mouth drops wide open in utter horror. Val looks away the other, because his not sure if he might witness a crime tonight. You knew Percy wouldn't be happy with you but hey it fun, sort of.

“You are utterly insane” they laugh, “Listen i know you aren't from this world, but everyone know that the wayne’s are the equivalent to royalty in Gotham” You look at them blankly. “Of course you didn’t know.” You nod your head. “Okay, we will come back to this.” They crack their knuckle nervously as their eyes dart around the room before landing on you. “Go put those on!” They wave their hand at you as you run off to the bathroom giggling. They fall down into a squat after you leave the room.

“Percy, I will never know how you got everything together so fast.” Val sighs, he watches them as the are hunched over kneeling. “You do a lot for us.”

“Tt- you don’t have to say that again.” they take a few deep breathes “But i would do anything for them” Val hums, agreeing with Percy. They were alway hopelessly devoted to you. They sit in silence for a while before finally Val break that tension.

“Do you really think we should let ___ go to their gala?” Val held a bit animosity in his voice when speaking of ‘them’. Percy hold tightens their grip on their arms.

“They have no memories of them so it is a dangerous bet,” You were walking back as they are talking, you stop at the mention of you. You hide behind a wall to continue to listen “ but we might be able to play off because of how things ended with the original ___ but I have my doubts.” Percy furrows their eyebrows. Your heart tightens. You remain quite as you peak around the corner. They walk over to a rack over on the far end of the rack and pick out two suit that didn’t look like they were meant for you.

“What are the suits for?” Val question walking over to them.

“Us,” Percy hands a suit Val “You didn’t think I was going to let them go on their own did you?” Val’s mouth drops, but then he smiles and takes the suit from them.

“You are just as attractive as the day I meet you” He teases. They roll their eye and smile. You take this chance to walk out, you were quick to put on a cheerful smile as you quickly walk out from behind the wall. They turn to look at you.

“Maybe you should save the flirting for later, lover boy.” Percy pats Val’s cheek and walk towards you. They looks over your outfit just making sure everything is in place. “Perfect, now don't forget your shoes, and to brush your teeth”

“Wow, can't you just compliment me?” You sigh, “you will never stop nagging you.” you laugh softly. Percy’s eyes soften as you laugh, they place a hand on you cheek and smile. It’s rare a genuine smile from them and not some strand laugh or tight smile when someone annoys them. It’s a real smile, not big or bright but a smile all the same.

“You look amazing.” they whisper to you, they pat you cheek and retract their hand “now go up stair and brush your teeth. Your breath stinks”

“Of course you would do that.” You shake your head “You two should get dressed, I wanna eat something before we go to the gala”

“Of course” Val and Percy say in unison

Val and Percy go towards to separate bathrooms to change before you walk up to your room. You still feel the fresh air from you broken window, ‘replace within the next day my ass’. You walk in to your bathroom, everything was out of place thanks to Robin from the night before. You mentally note to take care of this later. You start brushing your teeth and let your mind wonder. It was about half past six in the evening now and you had only woken up maybe four hours ago, but really you got up with Percy arrived. You had never slept for over 12 hours, or not since you first came here.

You think back to the conversation that you over heard between Percy and Val, you knew the Waynes at some point and it ended badly. So does that mean they might recognize you and if so, how would they react? You had no solid idea of how you are going to get the answers you want out of this party, but maybe you could at least figure were you stand with the prince of gotham himself, Bruce Wayne. That’s if you could close to him, maybe you shouldn’t shoot for the biggest target. You would go for Damian but he probably knows as much as you do, and you don’t really want to be interrogated again. So maybe you could try one of the older kids, if they show. You have read that it’s kind of a gamble of which Wayne siblings will show up, official and unofficial.

But, you have also read so of th gossip columns that say the entire Waynes family will be there for this one. You weren’t sure why.

You spit out the toothpaste and wipe you mouth on a hand towel discarded on the floor, while turing on the sink to wash it down the drain You look in the mirror fixing you outfit and hair. You alway wonder what it would’ve been like to see you mom here with you.

What would she have said, done, and how she would’ve she looked at you. She probably would’ve come with you to the gala, she would be protective and scare of all the weird people that come near you two. Val and Percy would actually be able to enjoy the party. You always would want the impossible to be possible. This is only a far off dream of your, having to people you hold dear now and the person you have always held dear in the same world could never happen.

You let out a breathe you didn’t know you were holding. You exits your bathroom returning downstairs. Percy and Val still seem to be changing to so you take this as your que to grab a snack from the pantry, and scroll through social media. You, as you predicted, went viral, some love you, some hate you, and some are able to just admit they are jealous. It didn’t really matter what they thought, you are just having fun with it. You come across serval post about the Wayne gala to night, mostly from gothamites. They are mostly posting about the drama and fashion that comes from events like this, but a few did raise a good point about how even if it is of charity, there was no need for it to be so fancy and exclusive. You kind of agreed with them.

You turn off you phone, and place it down as you are finishing up the snack. You look over at the pile of mail on the table, still unsorted. The invitation is still where you left it, you didn’t really read it all, you leave your phone and snack on the counter and walk over to table and pick up the invitation

“___, Where are you?” Percy calls, from another room. “We need to get going soon.” Percy is getting closer to you as they continue to talk.

“I am in the kitchen Percy, needed a snack,” You quickly slip the invite into a safe place, while you walk back over your snack. You finish eating and throw away the wrapper right as Percy enter the kitchen. They are a very elegant person, you honestly were in awe when first meeting them. You rarely seem them dress so formally, but it was nice. They were adjusting their earring when they walked in, you smile softly at them. “Wow, you look amazing.”

“Thank you,” They run their hand over their suit to flatten our wrinkles “now if Val could just hurry up.” They raise their voice so that Val could hear them, but val round the corner right as they finish.

“Calm down you cant rush perfect, now.” Val smirk at Percy, they roll their eyes and walk away from you and him. Val’s face falls and you laugh “What did i do wrong?” He turns to you with a defeated look.

“You have an ego” you yell back as you walk past him following Percy towards the front door. He stands the for a moment before following after you as you are leaving the apartment. The three of you enter the elevator, Percy presses the button for the ground floor

“So how are we getting there?” Val asks “It doesn’t feel right taking the normal car.” he nervously adjust the sleeve of his suit, cars always made him nervous.

“You’re right about that,”Percy replies, as the grab his sleeve and re-adjusts it for him. “___ was really excited to drive their Lambo” a cold sweat rolls down Val’s face after hearing that you would be driving.

“Haha, don’t worry I wont drive fast” the elevator doors open you leave Val in utter shock while a stressed Percy drags him as they follow behind you into the lobby.

“We are joking.” Percy smirks as a reluctant Val is struggling to form words. “We are taking one of the Mercedes and I am driving.”

“Was it really necessary for you to do that?” Val pats his chest.

“Sorry not sorry.” You stick out your tongue. “You probably would've been the same way if you heard I was driving on my own” You smile as he quickly try to regain his composure from your idiocy. Percy chuckles as they walks up to the valet, leaving you and Val alone. Val takes a moment long to calm his hear, then he looks at you, concerned.

“Are you sure you want to go?” He looks at you in your eyes. For a moment you really consider if this is what you really want. You don’t really know why you are going in first place, you could easily have a simple weekend and do nothing but basking in your new social media fame while eating Batburger for the 3rd time this week.

“Yes,” You stop, “mostly” Val’s stare really wears you down quickly “Not really but I feel like I am too far in.”

“But are you really going to just annoy Damian? It seems like your doing to much for a guy you just meet.” he place a hand on your shoulder and give you a reassuring squeeze.

You mentally want to hit yourself for lying to Val, but you (sort of) have a plan.

“I hate when you’re right.” You look at Percy who already seems to be losing hair, you feel bad but you feel like this is needed. “But i am already kinda committed to it you know?” Val’s face falls a bit.

“Fine, but we can leave whenever you want.” Val let’s go of your shoulder as Percy returns with the keys.

“Of course” You dig your finger nails in to your hand. Sometimes wish you be more honest with them, but you don’t want to get too close.

“Well come on,” Percy interjects, “We have a car waiting for us.” Percy starts lightly pushing you and Val towards the door. “And the sooner we can be back here the better.”

“Okay okay” Val laughs he climb into the passenger seat, while Percy forces you are in back. Percy runs around the car, and hope in the driver’s seat and starts the car.

“Why are you in such a rush? It’s only like a five min drive.” You groan as you were basically thrown into the back seat.

“ it started a hour ago and, that means there going to be more people on the red carpet harder to avoid… people.” Percy fastens their seat belt and starts the car “Pull on you seat belts, please.” You are Val both put on your seat belts as they pull out on to the street. You can see Percy’s gaze had sharpened because of said people.

“Well, are you guys going to try to have a bit of fun?” You watch Percy carefully, “Like maybe, talk to some other people, or drink a little while I wonder around?” they only seem to tense more when you suggest that.

“No, the alcohol they have their is too light me, and Percy hasn’t been much of a drinker” Val looks back at you “So we are probably just going hangout on the side, and keep an eye on you.” Val smiles.

“I-” Percy clears their throat “I don’t think we should stand to the side, It can be very dangerous for them.” their eyes are now looking back at you. They have alway been a little weird about these type of events with you since you have no idea of how to navigate the social etiquette and traditions. Not that they tried to teach you.

“Percy,” you move closer to the drivers seat.. “I can handle this on my own!” You need them to back off, just for tonight. “I am old enough to drive and live on my own. I don’t need one of my assistants to stand behind me.”

“Are you old enough? Because if I remember correctly you were fighting for your life just last night.” Percy voice bubble with frustration. “You may think you know a lot, but I don’t want you to get in to something you can’t get out of.”

“Why must you always think that I need a guiding hand whenever you are with me? Is it because of what happen with your version of me?” Percy harshly stop the car at a red light and turn to you. They are shaking, as they continued to grip the wheel with one hand. The light turns green, they turn back to the road and continue to drive.

“You know nothing about that,” Percy is quieter now “and it doesn’t concern you. We have to focus and the here and the now.” You narrow your eyes at them before turning to face out the window. Val look in between you and Percy. You and Percy don’t argue much, there are some disagreements, but they were always sorted out in the same conversation. So when you do argue, it’s always hard to mediate it, and the responsibility will always fall to Val

“Percy, don’t you remember what it was like when you were their age?” Val normally takes a neutral stance but he feel like you need some room from them tonight. “You didn’t want someone older than you following you around.” Percy remains quiet. “And you probably learned a lot too, so maybe we should do that with you.”

“You’re right” they loosen their grip on the steering wheel as their eyes soften. “But let’s see how they deal with the red carpet first.” Percy stops and gets out of the car before you have the chance to ask what they mean. You and Val look at each other concerned before getting of the car.

The paparazzi lines the stair, lights flashing as you get out. The red carpet is busy with serval celebrities and business officials posing and taking interviews There already seems to be a commotion a bit further up, you try to look to see who it might be but the flashes blinds you.

“You would think they might not use the flash as much” you use your hand to cover you eyes as you turn away from the red carpet. Percy walks to you left side and leans in covering their mouth with their hand.

“Maybe you were here 15 minutes ago you wouldn’t have had to deal with this” they jest at you “You seem to be upstaged by a Wayne member who just arrived” You roll your eyes as you squint harder to try to make out which member it might be. Val approaches you on the right.

“I think you should start moving instead of acting like you are apart of the paparazzi” He gently pushes you forward a step in front of him and Percy “You can’t act too star struck now, you didn’t even know the wayne two days ago” Val laughs.

“I am not star struck,” You start walk up the stairs moving around the people posing “just trying to see if it’s damian so I can annoy him faster” Percy and Val let out a heavy sigh trying to hide their laughter. You see a man in a suit a talking to a news anchor as you walk up the stairs, you can easily assume that is the mentioned Wayne. It wasn’t damian, he was too happy to be talking to someone, you almost immediately lose interest. You look toward the paparazzi, they were all focused on the Wayne. You start to feel pressure behind your eyes as they go in and out of focus.

“At least we won’t have to deal with the media” Val lightly nudges you to the side, you blink a few times before you look up at him. He gives you a sly grin, “We wouldn't need theses sharks looking for fresh blood on out door step.” You are quick to get back in to moment.

“Hey!” you slap his arm “How dare you compare sharks to these people? At least shark are cute!” He let’s out a low laugh as percy was pinches their nose

“You really need to start moving rather then just stand here.” Percy whispers into your ear, you nod your head to acknowledge them, all while rolling your eyes as you starts walking up the stairs.

You look straight forward for the most part. You know its better to keep a low profile rather then make your presents know, but of course you are meant to make a mistake. You look over for no more then ten seconds, and yet they recognize you. You almost immediately look forward again but it is already to late, someone recognizes you. It is a a domino effect after this. Slowly, each reporter and photographer are trying to get you to pay attention to them.

“Shit” you sneer out as Percy quickly guides you through the crowd avoiding the sides as best as possible while Val follows closely behind trying to shield you. But with your luck you run in to someone separating you and Percy. You try to find you way back to them however you are met with a wall of mics.

Oh well isn’t this just perfect?

You don’t know what to do in front of camera when they have people behind them, so what’s better then giving them two thumbs up and a half assed smile? Anything. So that’s what you do as the cameras click away.

“Who are you?” a reporter loudly asks, you feel the panic start to set in.

“Uh…” You can feel your mind turn to mush. It alway decided to turn off when you actually need it.

“Don’t say anything.” Val and Percy simultaneously yell at you in a panic

“ I am ___ ” Their words reach your brain a second too late. Instant regret fills your mind. They start call out your name being followed by serval variation of the same question. Your head is spinning from the crowd. You start to move up the stairs once again trying to avoid answering anymore questions. Val and Percy quickly follow after you.

You bump into the wayne who was now paying more attention to the commotion you caused then then person interviewing him. Percy quickly guides you away from him as you barley see his eyes meet yours as you are being usher into the building. You feel sick. You quickly find a place to sit down. Val and percy talk a bit before, Percy takes out their phone and calls someone.

You are unable to walk from uneasiness that grows in your heart. You feel as if thousands of hands are crawling up your back, all while someone is forcefully keeping your eyes open to watch a fast moving filming . His eyes, you know them, you knew them. You always want to remember the life of the other you, but when you did it is always painful. The memories are never clear enough to understand, but the emotions are. You can’t even deal with your own issues to adding on someone else's makes it worst.

Fuck, this is going to bite you in the ass this week.

“Wow, that was something.” You play with your fingers staring at the floor as Percy is on the phone pacing while Val is trying to get you to say something. “Are you okay? They didn’t try to grab you right?” You nod your head, not looking up at him. Percy ends the call and sighs.

“Okay,” Percy claps their hands together “ we will have people to help us get out of here when you are ready to.” you don’t respond. They put their phone away in a pocket of their suit, then sit next you. “Are you..?” they gently and slowly wrap their arms around your back. You flinch away, before looking up at them and then to Val.

“No, no. I am here. I am fine.” You shake out your hands, then wipe them on your clothes as you get up quickly. Pushing their arm off of you. “Thank you for getting people for after.” You smile at them, “sorry to cause so much concern”

“Its okay.” They stand up and pat your back. “We should have done this to begin with.” Val nods in agreement. You try to ignore the way the memories make your head throb.

“We underestimated the impact of social media” Val looks towards the door. Many of them are still attempting to take photos of you in the lobby. You use your hand to shield your eyes from the flashes of the camera.

“You wouldn’t say.” You look at Val from the side of your eyes before you look around the lobby. The receptionists have gone home and it was only a few rich people in far off corners of the room. Some of them are starting at all of you as you are in the middle of the lobby. “Let’s just get up stairs.”

“I agree.” Percy grabs Val’s arm and walks him over to the elevator waiting for you. You give the lobby one last glance before you walk over to elevator. You press the button to call for the elevator. The elevator couldn’t have come at any later, the Wayne from earlier entered the lobby. You can feel the memories trying to rip away the fog put up by the other you, but it is easier to handle now. You take a glance at him just to try and figure out which Wayne it was.

It was difficult to tell with most of the boys because majority of them are copies of Bruce with no biological relation, so it would be better to go off of age. He looks older than you, around 20-25, closer to 23. With process of elimination you safely assume that it is Tim Drake, famous for being just as smart as Bruce, maybe even smarter. He has his own personal fortune thanks to his parents, so he is familiar with the upper-class environment. Basically, avoid him because of the headache and having no experience in ‘high society’. He seems to be to more consumed by the crowd of rich people who had left their corners. They are like shiver of sharks coming at him as if he is fresh prey. You grin and bite your inner lip as you recall the nature document you used to watch in public school.

“Percy, What do always you compare theses events to?” You turn your eyes away from Tim as you look at Percy. They look at you from the corner of their eyes.

“It is like toddlers and tiara, but it’s only the overbearing adults who couldn’t fill their need for attention.” Percy looks toward the crowd growing around Tim. You cover your face as you are giggling quietly. “But this seems to be more like the pageants and its the adults competing instead.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” You clear your throat like you have to cough trying to conceal your laughs. You look back over for a moment to try and get another visual of the crowd, but you are surprised to see Tim pushing his way to the elevators, towards you.

Why did i decide to be so difficult for myself?

You drag your eyes away from him. Right on que, there was the blessed ding of the elevator. The doors open and you are quick to step in, while trying to get Percy and Val to get on so you could close the doors. As much as you would love to understand the connection, you don’t really want to have to deal with emotions of the memories, and the possibility that he might recognize you, if he knew the other you.

You weren’t quick enough of course, he steps on right as the doors star closing. You hide your face as he turns back to all of you guys. “What flo-” he stops mid sentence. Shit. “Percy?” your eyes go wide, he recognizes percy? You turn your head slightly, only enough to see percy out of the side of your eye. They did not look happy in the slightest, they look almost hateful to him.

“What floor do you think?” they fold their arms and doesn’t even try to hide their annoyance behind their smile. “There’s really only one floor we could be going to.” They push him to the side as the press the button for the 72nd floor.

“Yeah of course.” Tim awkwardly turns a back a round. You go back to staring at the wall of the elevator, it was surprisingly fun to look at, but the ride seems to be endlessly slow. Percy and Val move in front of you blocking his view of you. “I saw __ with you early,” you freeze up as the elevator grows more tense “did they already go to the gala without you?”

“I don’t think you need to know.” Val speaks up. unlike Percy. he is trying to hide his emotions with a calmer tone. Why are they trying to hide you?

“Well I mean it kind of is, seeing as I am a ward of the hosting family.” TIm snaps back with a stranded smile. Val and percy are both about to respond as the elevator door open. A woman stands in front of elevator.

“Invitations please” she smiles.

Quick A/N- Just to clarify the ages of batfam, and reader + co. (i did age up and age down some for story purposes sorry if this bothers you)

Damian - 15

Duke - 17 (same grade as reader)

reader's friend group - 17-18

Reader - 18

Cass- 19

Steph- 20

Tim- 21 (i think tim is meant to be 6 to 7 years older than damian so he is finally not 17 )

Jason- 24

Barbara - 31

Dick- 30

Percy- 38

Val- 40

Bruce- 44

Alfred- 63.

Taglist: @problematicreblogger @mileskisser @hoeinthehouse @luminous011 @enjisthings @earth-to-mee @thereeallink @pasta-warlord @just-here-reading

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saiyanprincessswanie · 1 month

Text

Need You Now

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky thinks about the hurt he caused you as he is left with memories of happier times. Does he get a second chance at life with you?

Warning: Angst, sadness, drinking, hope?

Word Count: 1125

A/N: Thank you to my beta readers @pigwidgeonxo & @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @music-culture-mythology (any mistakes on spelling & grammar are my own. Did this on my phone)

A/N 2: This used to be a Dean Winchester fic but since I write for Marvel only I'm switching this to a Bucky Barnes fic.

A/N 3: Song fic, Need You Now by Lady Antebellum. Lyrics in Bold.

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere else besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts then it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

Bucky is such a fool. He let the one person he loves the most leave after an argument. He said a lot of hateful things to push you away and it seems that this time it might be for good. Why couldn’t he see that he deserved a life away from constantly going on missions? You’re willing to settle down with him and give him the normal life that he always dreamed of. Now he is haunted by pictures of you both together in happier times scattered everywhere. His phone is in his hand ready to dial your number but would you pick it up? Has he crossed your mind as you have with him? Screw it, he dials your number and lets it ring. But you don’t pick up. God, he was such a fool to let you go.

Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor

Reaching for the phone 'cause I can't fight it anymore

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?

For me, it happens all the time

Bucky looks at the clock and sees that it’s a quarter after one in the morning. The feeling of loneliness swarms over him as he drinks his whiskey slowly. He thinks back to the sadness in your eyes when you ask him, “Are you sure you want this?” God, no he didn’t want this to end but he was too proud of a man to admit it. Looking at the locked screen on his phone he sees your smiling face. He wants to call again, though a part of him tells himself to let you go so you can be happy. Bucky doesn’t know what he’ll do without you but if this is what a broken heart feels like he never wants to feel it again. The other part of him is screaming that he needs you. He needs to see your smiling face, hear your laughter, and taste your lips. What he would give to have you come through that door again and tell him you can’t live without him. Though if he was honest he doesn’t know how he is going to live without you. Dialing your number again he silently prays that you will pick the phone up but it goes to voicemail.

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call but I've lost all control and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now

Another shot of whiskey, can't stop looking at the door

Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?

For me, it happens all the time

Bucky pours another glass of whiskey as he thinks about the life you could have had together. You both had talked about having a family one day and getting that little house with a yard big enough for a dog. Yes, that was the life that could have been. But it’s all a distant memory now. He should have never allowed going on missions so much to be the deal breaker between you both. He deserves a chance at a normal life. Grabbing the glass of whiskey he downs it in one gulp. Bucky promised he wouldn’t call but fuck it. While he has the courage he quickly dials your number and listens while it rings. After the fifth time ringing, it goes to voicemail. Dammit, he screwed up. He just hopes that you’re sleeping and not ignoring his call. Maybe he should try to sleep as he is feeling a little buzzed. Though how could he sleep knowing you won’t be there in the morning? As Bucky leans back on the couch he tells himself he would rather have these hurt feelings than feel empty inside. Unbeknownst to him, his finger dials your number again.

It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call but I've lost all control and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now

Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now

And I said I wouldn't call but I'm a little drunk and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now

Bucky shut his eyes for a few minutes and woke up to someone shaking him. He groans his disapproval and slowly opens his eyes. There you are staring at him with a sad smile on your face.

“Bucky, I saw you called me several times. Is everything okay?” You sound concerned as you ask him. He looks awful and smells heavily of whiskey. You notice the pictures of you both are scattered everywhere.

He looked over to the clock on the wall and it was just after three in the morning. You came over this late? “I’m fine, sweetheart. I was just drinking some whiskey. No need to worry about me.”

“Does this have anything to do with the argument we had?” You question him as you look at how much whiskey is missing from the bottle.

He sighs. “No, yes, maybe. I just wanted you to know I didn’t mean anything that I said earlier. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. I want the future we talked about. I want out of the Avengers if you still want to as well. Just say the word and it’s done.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you nod your head. “I do want that but Bucky you hurt me. Saying you don’t want kids…”

“I was an idiot. I do want them with you. I want the house, the yard, everything. Just give me a chance to prove myself to you.”

A small smile flashes across your face. “Well, I hope you’re serious because Bucky I’m pregnant.”

Bucky sits up quickly and pulls you into his lap. He kisses you passionately, tongues slowly dancing together as you grip him harder against you. When he pulled away so you could both breathe he let out a chuckle. “I’m so freaking happy.” Finally, everything is going to be alright. You need each other and so both of you vow to never make drastic decisions again. Today is the beginning of your forever, just the three of you.

***

@americasass81

@astheskycries

@awesomerextyphoon

@caffiend-queen

@caplanbuckybarnes

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

@georgiapeach30513

@get0verit

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@jobean12-blog

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@nekoannie-chan

@noellez-best-life23

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@princessofdarkwinter

@rayofdawnworld

@spectre-posts

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@talia-rumlow

@thefallenbibliophilequote

@what-is-your-plan-today

@wolfsmom1

#saiyanprincessswanie #missy writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x fanfiction #need you now

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digitalagepulao · 10 days

Text

My sincere Black Myth: Wukong review

Full disclosure! This is from a recent but earnest fan of JTTW as the original novel, as well as all the social, cultural and religious layers of it. I've seen my fair share of adaptations and derivative media, from shlocky to silly to grimdark to cutesy. I'm a bachelor in visual arts, with an interest in the field of game development since high school. I am also, white and brazillian, and have talked with other jttw fans, both Chinese and not, on this game. If any of these are for some reason motive to not read further, then fair enough. Hope you have fun and continue to enjoy the game, do not let me or my opinion stop you!

Now to the review proper <3

First things first, let the obvious not remain unsaid. This game, is supremely gorgeous. In every sense of the word, and I mean this fully, it's a work of art. The sound design, the character concepts and execution, the animations, the voice acting, the visual effects, the UI design, the cinematography, the 3D scanning of actual historical artofacts and heritage sites throughout China, and everything beyond and between, are phenomenal, full stop.

This was never a debate, I'm sure, but I don't think I can in good conscience not praise them for their work. It's no news that Asian talent, not just in China either, have been often hired to supplement projects on the West, and we can all agree it's about time they got to shine in their own AAA project. My issues with the international game industry notwithstanding, I hope this brings some much needed acknowledgment and appreciation for Chinese culture and arts, both traditional and modern!

Now, from this point on, THERE WILL BE SPOILERS, so proceed with caution!

(word count: +1.8k)

I also deeply enjoy their choices in arcs to revisit. Some like the Flaming Mountain arc are classic picks to adapt but still a very good match to the whole Six Senses throughline. I don't think you can do a JTTW 2 electric bogaloo without bringing up Niumowang and his family in some way (um, put a pin on that), but the other arcs like Yellowbrow or Black Wind Mountain aren't as explored imo, so it's nice to see them being given a bit of a spotlight.

(speaking of the Yellow Ridge arc, whoever made the executive decision of Lingji Bodhisattva being a Xaanxi singer is, genius!!)

I'm also kind of in love?? with Bajie's design and role in the story overall?? Gameplay wise he sticks around just enough to not feel lonely, but not too long to be a nuisance or overstay his welcome. He's no Atreus (GoW) or Ellie (TLoU) of course, but he doesn't need to be, and most importantly, he isn't trying to be, which I feel is admirable of the devs. Given the visible inspirations from the recent God of War games, it would have been easy to lean a bit too hard on it, but I'm glad they didn't overreach.

Him having a more complex love life is also a nice touch imo. It explores more his womanizer ways in an interesting way, and I appreciate it. I love when people complicate the pig! Also, the way he treats Xiaosheng (Destined One) like a nephew?? The scene on the Huaguoshan throne??? I'M GONNA CRY!!!

I think, I've run out of positive things to say.... time for the spicy takes.

I, kind of detest the premise by default. I'm not a big fan of "Superman is Dead" plots, cus it's usually either done for shock value, or taken so lightly that the weight is totally lost. I have such a love-hate situationship with the introduction cutscene because of this. On one hand, it's phenomenal cinema, and seeing Wukong stand up to the Heavenly armies in glorious 4K high fidelity graphics is delicious. On the other hand, the whole debate they are having has me going "?????", not because I don't get it but just, why?? Why did this have to be the premise?? (put another pin on that)

Also the set up and call to adventure is kind of blergh.

Now is as good a time as any to talk about the gameplay. It's, okay. If you enjoy trying to figure out the most stylish combos, or to mash buttons, then you'll definitely have fun. I was sorely disappointed that I pretty much have been going through the bosses rather easily. Chapter 1 it was mostly the struggle of learning the controls, but I never stuck to a boss for longer than seven tries (Whiteclad Noble, the snakeman that you are). Chapter 2 I only struggled on Tiger Vanguard, because I was sorely underleveled and had missed a pathway to explore before him. After that I second tried him. Chapter 3, I have and I'm not joking, gotten halfway through first or second trying every boss.

Mind you, this is not being some godtier gamer or whatever, I'm pretty average and only a recent player of soulslike games too (maybe playing Lies of P made too OP, but I sincerely doubt it lol). No, this is me saying that if you do explore the game and not rush through it, you won't struggle nearly as much as some people have and still are. Most of the final chapter bosses can be trivialized with the chapter's Obsession Realm gimmick artifact, which isn't in itself a bad thing, just feels like an odd choice personally.

Which leads me to, the level design. So far? Preeeeetty lame! It's very pretty and fancy, but so chockful of invisible walls that it feels stiffling and discourages exploration. I can never tell what is meant to be a path or just fancy scenery, and I never know when a jump will get walled or send me to my death by fall damage. When it's not being confusing, the level design is either a bunch of looping circles, or straight lines. And so far, besides a few interactables and loot, there is not much else to look at. That is, bad level design, plain and simple.

Also, the animations are glorious, but what is the point if I can't see the enemy?? That camera is my true nemesis, and I mean that. the fact that a boss can be beyond my field of vision at ANY POINT when I'm locked on and it strifes sideways, is dreadful. GameScience, FIX IT. It is also, very hard to tell what parts of a boss will damage me if I collide with them or not. The Kang-Jin Long fight was baffling on a design point of view, same for Captain Lotus-Vision. Some clearer hitboxes would be swell.

This is the point where I say my main issue with the game lies: it's very pretty, and adoringly crafted, but it lacks substance design wise. I feel like it needed to cook more, the level design polished more so I wouldn't get lost every five minutes, and clearer.... well, everything. Mechanic explanations, level progression, gimmicks, etc. It all needed to be less murky and convoluted to understand.

It also needed more meat in between bosses. I have yet to run into common enemies that give me actual trouble, so it ends up being just a jolly waltz from boss to boss. Boss rushes are fun and great, but not as the base game experience (for me at least). I had to stop one boss away from completing Chapter 1 cus I was just so exhausted. And I had been playing for like, an hour and a half?? That left a sour taste in my mouth, I'll be honest.

Okay, I'm gonna pick open those pins now.

#1 the Flaming Mountain Arc. I'm gonna be very real here chat, that was so cringe. What do you MEAN, Red Son wasn't Demon Bull King's biological son, and Princess Iron Fan was forced to drink from the Childbearing River??? And Red Son hates him????When I watched that cutscene, I had to pause and walk away for a moment, legitimately. This plotbeat is SO WILD to me, I got nothing to say. Just, why??Soooo bizarre. And that the Flaming Mountain Keeper has such a presence in Iron Fan's life is also, weird?? Not bad weird, just Weird, but that's like a nitpick more than an actual criticism. Ping Ping is fine though, I like that Bull has a daughter with Princess Fair Fox, that's cute and interesting. Wish she was in a better plot and adaptation but lol

And #2, the premise. Now we are getting to the meat of it all.

The underlying premise of the whole plot, including the true ending, is flawed by default. The premise runs on what is sometimes called as a "conspiracy theory plot", as in, "what if the gods were bad actually??". It's reddit movie theory content in very short terms, and while it had a place during the 00s grimdark years pre-Marvel, it's become quite a jaded and boring take nowadays. Now you may say that it comes from a genuine desire to show distrust and critique to insitutions and the powers than be, and I can see that.

There is a hiccup in that though.

In JTTW, Wukong is the Mind Monkey because of the religious text and subtext of the stories. Its interwoven in the whole thing, and makes it cohesive. It still offer critique and mockery to institutions, without entirely invalidating their foundations. Not only for genuine fear of prosecution, but because, shockingly, religion and belief is a major component of human society in general. But going back to my point, JTTW is *already* a critique of institutions and the power that be. Adding further layers into it feel like angst and edginess just for the sake of it, and that feels hollow to me.

To go further, this intent also clashes with their own plot. See, they bring up that Wukong's Mind, his Sixth Sense, died. Thus they need another Mind to guide his other senses and reform him, so that he may be reborn.

For one, that is such a convoluted way to do a reincarnation plot, it feels complicated just for novelty sake. Secondly, Wukong being the Mind Monkey, as I said, implies a tie to the underlying themes of the Journey as a person's path to enlightenment. If enlightenment itself is flawed because the gods are flawed/evil, then both themes are clashing. By making a "what if the gods were evil all along" plot while also going by the laws and order of said gods, then what are we even fighting against? What is the point of this whole rebellion between Erlang and Wukong??

my friend @ryin-silverfish said it best a while back, and I'm paraphrasing here (do pitch in or correct me if needed! <3), but the issue with these conspiracy narratives is the inherent anti-religion of them. They don't believe in anything, and thus they cannot properly retell the story of JTTW through a postmodern lense, because they refuse to engage with the religiosity that runs throughout the story.

It also leaves a sour taste in my mouth, because this game will likely be many people's first genuine experience with the JTTW mythos and story, and I tend to be concerned for how much this will "sour the pot" in the conversation. The novels are sadly innacessible enough as it is; the sheer size of them scare many people away, not even to mention the amount of underlying cultural context you'll miss out without proper footnotes and commentary. Most people will not engage with them directly, and certainly not most gamers.

While the narrative of someone embodying Wukong's spirit is not new in itself, I do find that it coexisting with such a poor premise and spin on it will be a sore first experience for new fans, and I can only hope that them meeting fans of the OG novels won't cause much friction in the fandom (we have enough as it is imo).

It also concerns me that, sadly, people and gamers in particular, get too swept up in the ooh-aah beauty of flashy sfx and highly detailed graphics, and fail to notice some of the underlying issues in game design. As I said, this game is a work of art, but it has flaws, and I don't think people are speaking of them enough. No, the issue is not "lack of diversity" or whatever the hell.

It runs deeper than that, and it's an issue I've come to see in recent movies as well. I'm aware it might just be different cultural expectations of the pacing and span of a story, and it may as well be! But I think if there was more care given to the bones of a media, it would bring much needed longevity and weight to these wonderful artworks.

All this said, I wanna see what acolades this game gets and see what the devs are cooking up with the DLCs (they said at one point the game was supposed to have 12 chapters and my god, that game would be TOO LONG. So glad it didn't get like that!), and further more see how this ripples in the eastern game dev scene. While this is a flawed game with a flawed story, it can be the first on a genuinely wonderful wave of new creations, not just by GameScience, and overall I'm hopeful for what might come next!

#jttw #journey to the west #sun wukong #black myth: wukong #black myth wukong #game review

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