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crowgore-throwaway · 2 months ago

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Detroit: Become Human would've been so much better as a critique of capitalism. All the groundwork is there.

All these points are interweaved, but I'll try to address them in parts

1: Automation, the unemployment crisis, and abuse of workers

Todd, Alice's "father", was a taxi driver before cars were automated. Other blue and pink-collar jobs (sanitation, desk-work, etc.) have also employed the use of androids as a cheaper alternative to maintaining a human employees. The people at fault are clearly the corporation owners, who only care about profits and cheap labor. This mirrors how companies will outsource labor to poor countries, paying employees pennies. This is also reminiscent of hostilities toward immigrants and how they "take our jobs". The way androids are abused could also serve as critique of how employers want cheap, exploitable workers who'll do what you want without complaint, not matter how poorly you treat them.

2: The childcare crisis

In-game, android owners are demonized for owning androids. Yes, there are people who mistreat their androids, but there are other who have them for a good reason. (to preface this next part, I have no clue why Todd is the way he is. Buying two androids to live a facade of a family life while also, presumably, not getting a job and abusing the and damaging the machines they bought is perplexing, but I'll overlook it) Kara is a model designed as a homemaker, she cooks, cleans, does childcare. As a symptom of capitalism, many parents struggle to take care of their kids. Daycare is expensive and hard to access, so why wouldn't you get a nanny android if you can afford one? It's a one-time purchase, round the clock care, so you don't need to worry whether or not your child is safe while you provide for your family. This existence of androids is purely based on capitalist necessity, how it isn't possible to balance aspects of your life as culture shifts more and more towards making money.

3: Systems of authority upholding corporate interests

Connor's character could be great commentary on how the police uphold corporate interests. His whole purpose is to essentially stop the workers from striking by rooting out the problem. Him being an android could also incorporate the issue of tokenization, how those from disadvantaged backgrounds/marginalized groups are told that if they work hard and keep their head down, they can be successful. Connor, in his various endings, either upholds the status quo to (presumably) preserve his own place in world, which ends in him being replaced by a more advanced RK model, representing how licking boots and sucking up to oppressors doesn't help you. (Blaire White, for example) While him deciding to deviate is a great opportunity to show a character working within the system to bolster change. Also, the detective parts are really cool, but the narrative kinda separates the audience from how emotionally taxing that kind of work is. Don't want to overload the story, but the fact that the only reason given for Hank's depression, alcoholism, and suicidality is because his son died is bullshit considering he deals with homicides on a regular basis. It's similar to cop dramas, how the crimes are shown but at the end of the day, the officers go home and have their own interpersonal drama, completely divorced from the things they see on the daily. (This bit isn't as fully-baked as the other takes since I'm not super learned on the ins and outs of how corporations affect law)

4: Conflict within the working class

As mentioned briefly in part 1, there's a lot of talk about people on welfare and immigrants taking away opportunities from other workers. This, of course, is not true. It's a manufactured conflict that distracts the working class from the true issue: the mass exploitation of the 99% to fund the 1%. People lose their jobs due to aforementioned greedy business practices and protest against androids, mistreating them instead of turning their attention to system itself because they're so ingrained in it they don't even think to question why this could even happen in the first place. They take their emotions out, suppressing the symptom rather than treating the problem.

5: Commodification

Along with employees, Cyberlife has companion androids, again, like Kara, who are advertised as a partner who'll be whatever you want whenever. There are child androids, too. And the thing with machines is that they (presumably) have no feelings and feel no pain, so you can beat them, rip them apart, and kill them with no legal repercussions. The company is selling you a family, a partner, or a victim. They strip away emotional connections, making aspects of life that make us truly human into something shallow you can buy or sell. This is similar to the real-life image of the American dream. You look happy in your big house with your wife and kids, but it's only a facade. The only thing you end up caring about is the validation you get for having stuff, and when you aren't the best man in the neighborhood, with the biggest house, the prettiest wife, and the best paying job, you resent those around you, including your own family because in your eyes, they aren't good enough. You could assume people attack and abuse androids because they are dissatisfied by where their is at and are angry at the android for not making it better, but there's none of that. I wanna know why Carlos Ortiz got high and beat his android (who doesn't get a name). In a lot of the confessions and interrogations from androids, you just get a scared description of how they were abused, nothing about the lead up. We get basically nothing about Rupert. But anyway, there's an obvious implication that people are growing less emotionally stable due to the incorporation of androids into daily life, since they see these machines with human faces as people who they can do anything to so they end up having messed up morals and seeing people as disposable.

6: Conclusion

Okay, not a full-on well-researched essay, but y'all see what I'm getting at. So much of the allegory was so poorly established. We only get a taste of certain social issues and not really a solid lens besides vaguely civil-rights related. I need more android-human relations. I'd like to see Markus as a big socialist leader, I want a subset of "scab" androids that deviate and actually like their lives, refusing to join the revolution. I HATE the march and store break-in chapters because you see all these androids joining Jericho but they don't have an identity. Many of them die unceremoniously. They go from machines performing their function to suddenly sentient beings with emotions coerced into whatever cause Markus wants, which is arguably worse because it's basically cult indoctrination.

I'm not sure what I would do about the narrative androids' sentience, since the argument that they should be given rights is weak considering it's implied that the reason for deviance is a sudden, traumatic event. I feel there should be an argument in there about how human emotions are just chemicals when you boil it down, but still, it's perplexing. I really like the way the webtoon Lovebot approaches the bot's sentience. Spoilers, but the androids in that series aren't nearly as widespread. They were invented as romantic, sexual companions. All of them are sentient from the outset, they just have a chip in their brains that keep them from exercising free will. They are inherently free-thinking beings, just trapped in their own heads by hardware. I think DBH just didn't give enough thought to the logistics of deviancy. It doesn't have to be overexplained to oblivion, but there needs to be a solid reason as to why it isn't a computer virus caused by mistreatment.

All that said, I still love this game. Loved it pretty much since it came out, I remember watching Jacksepticeye play it. I was obsessed with the characters, thought the aesthetic was super cool and was affected by the heartfelt aspects of the story. The music is also really good. David Cage just isn't a very good writer. I also straight up don't like him as a person. But still, the artists and actors did a stellar job- Bryan Dechart and Clancy Brown have great chemistry as Connor and Hank, the futuristic style paired with some of the older architecture is interesting and, again, I'm a slut for a great soundtrack.

Tbh, I'm a bit neurotic picking apart a 7-year-old game, but it got me really into sci/fi. I was like, 12, when I first got into it and hyperfixated HARD. I'm realizing that some of my biggest hyperfixations have been detective fiction (current favorite thing is Disco Elysium), so I wonder what that's about. So I guess it was nice to combine something old I really like, Detroit: Become Human, with my current interest in socialism.

#detroit become human #dbh spoilers #this game came out seven years ago I think you can handle spoilers #marxism #marxist critique #dbh connor #dbh kara #dbh markus #media analysis #critique #socialism #anti capitalism #scifi #hyperfixation

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justafewberries · 1 day ago

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Beetee's failed attempt to hack the capitol coms leading to punishment with Ampert is either evidence that the attack served a greater rebel organization

Beetee wanted to do a mega attack that would create that rebel organization from the network of cells.

If it's the latter then a possible rebel tendency towards mega propo attacks(blowing up arenas) could be established.

Though most d12 rebel action besides posters is based on escaping d12 or sabatoging mine production(in CF we see more examples of this in other districts).

I don't think Beetee was trying to communicate through the system:

“It’s because I’m being punished for coming up with a plan to sabotage the Capitol’s communication system. I’m too valuable to kill, but my son is disposable.”

He was trying to sabotage it. He was trying to prohibit something from being communicated, or just take the systems down entirely. However, we do not know when he tried to sabotage them. It could have been years prior. Ampert was 12, so it was the first year he could have been reaped. This opens the door to the sabotage plan being developed before the period between the 49-50th Games.

He did not know he was caught until they reaped Ampert:

“But it is. Entirely. I took a risk. I didn’t suspect that I’d been found out until the reaping. The timing was calculated. If I had known, I could have killed myself, and Ampert would be safe at home. That is how Snow works.”

This doesn't necessarily mean he developed the plan recently, but I think makes it more likely.

There are a few reasons he may have taken up against the communication system specifically (other than the fact he's the comms guy in mockingjay):

Prevent development of the arena:

He stated he got to look over the plans over a year ago:

“My point is that, for at least a few weeks, the arena has to be capable of sustaining the tributes and supporting the set pieces. I haven’t seen the plan for the actual arena, but over a year ago, they had me look over the Sub-A design."

So he has insider knowledge. Perhaps he was planning to meddle with the communication systems for the construction of the arena. Although, I don't think this hold water, as he did not implement the plans, and the arena would have to have been built by then.

"Oh yes, Well, they've been in the works for years, of course. Arenas aren't built in a day." (Catching Fire, Plutarch)

So, at best, he would be meddling with the construction of a future arena.

Trying to overwrite Capitol propaganda

People in the Capitol love their TV's. Maybe it's literally just him trying to do what he does in Mockingjay, although, I'm not sure what he would break in with, but that could be why it's a plan he didn't implement. They needed propos in Mockingjay before they could do any kind of breaking in.

Game communications/operations

Perhaps he was trying to sabotage the trackers (but that really wouldn't accomplish much on its own), or the operations of the Games in a Bluetooth/control from a remote location kind of way. I'd buy this if Sub-A didn't exist and the Games were as automated as they were in the 74th Games.

There are a few smaller things that could have to do with "Capitol communications", like moving Peacekeeper squadrons from areas to allow access to restricted areas, too, but I don't know if that would be sabotaging so much as interfering/controlling, maybe he just planned to leave a security gap in them for later?

I think the distinction of "sabotage" is why I'm not sure if it had anything to do with the rebels or not.

#thanks for your ask nonny #i had to go back and check because at first i was on a similar page as you #sotr #sunrise on the reaping #beetee latier #thg

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hermitw · 3 months ago

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poll here in case u don't want to read the rest bc it's a heavy topic

I'm blaming (thanking) @thepersonperson for changing my brain chemistry, specifically by saying Sukuna is disabled. it's like we've been distracted from this observation in canon, with the way he's always objectified, a cursed object or perfection - was Gojo the most normal here? when he told Yuuji that Sukuna was a person, a long time ago.

Sukuna accidentally healing Yuuji's other hand should have given it away, that Sukuna was constantly running RCT through his whole body or it was automated to go where it needed to.

so it's clear that Sukuna does not like being touched, (never in life is okay with physical contact, outside of martial arts). doesn't remember his childhood. called himself an unwanted child, only speculated on his mother starving.

we've tried to guess Sukuna's trauma before, based on history at the time (slavery, forcibly removed from his home, csa by a religious mentor, etc) - but I can't recall an analysis on medical trauma. which makes Sukuna's personality make perfect sense to me.

what are the chances that some doctor would have tried to remove his second set of arms, chip away at his face? and Sukuna in a desperate state like Gojo, learned to use RCT to grow his own hands back. and might have killed whoever did this to him. maybe his mother was there and he left her and her memory behind. idk.

some of the characters (Ash from Banana Fish, Laura Palmer (in her secret diary) but especially Lucy/Nyu from Elfen Lied) that I feel sukuna could relate to most have medical trauma, as well, and there can be a huge overlap between that and CSA in how a victim copes, in the loss of autonomy and consent not informed nor asked for. like, a child can experience textbook SA but no one bats an eye because it's a medical procedure and they're not even spoken to, not even treated as a person. (there are countless examples, I'm especially thinking about the horror stories of VCUG and forced assimilation of intersex people, unnecessary surgeries performed on minors who can't consent or want the procedures.) the whole thing with asking Sukuna if he has 2 dicks? oh, and if these so-called safe, trusted adults can do that and watch as it happens? then no one is safe. it can easily lead to a life of trust no one, of fear and paranoia especially over medical issues, along with this (mysterious, especially if the trauma has all been blacked out) fascination and horror.

the belief that he isn't human could be rooted in this. Sukuna doesn't seem the type to believe anything just because it's been said by another person.

I still need to write the post on Sukuna having DID - I wanted to wait until reading the manga again, but might just post the evidence I can think of offhand for now. actually, sukuna might be the best representation of DID in fiction. [edit: it's here]

you can be proud of me for not blaming kenjaku but I have to suggest: kenjaku trades no more doctors for let me turn you into a cursed object when you're dead.

and Sukuna mummifies himself to death, to ensure that Kenjaku stays out of his body.

at this point I'm wondering if Sukuna were inspired by the jersey devil. cursed child, two faces, once human, the fallen one, can fly/double jump, did Sukuna's CE kill the doctors and he ran away?

idk man, I was just writing a fic where Sukuna heals from his trauma with the jersey devil and in my research. I forgot about the midwife murder qkdjajxjwks ok that's all I think bye.

#jjk manga #heian sukuna #True form sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk theory #sukuna #jjk x cryptids #sukuna analysis #medical trauma

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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months ago

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The reverse-centaur apocalypse is upon us

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

In thinking about the relationship between tech and labor, one of the most useful conceptual frameworks is "centaurs" vs "reverse-centaurs":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

A centaur is someone whose work is supercharged by automation: you are a human head atop the tireless body of a machine that lets you get more done than you could ever do on your own.

A reverse-centaur is someone who is harnessed to the machine, reduced to a mere peripheral for a cruelly tireless robotic overlord that directs you to do the work that it can't, at a robotic pace, until your body and mind are smashed.

Bosses love being centaurs. While workplace monitoring is as old as Taylorism – the "scientific management" of the previous century that saw labcoated frauds dictating the fine movements of working people in a kabuki of "efficiency" – the lockdowns saw an explosion of bossware, the digital tools that let bosses monitor employees to a degree and at a scale that far outstrips the capacity of any unassisted human being.

Armed with bossware, your boss becomes a centaur, able to monitor you down to your keystrokes, the movements of your eyes, even the ambient sound around you. It was this technology that transformed "work from home" into "live at work." But bossware doesn't just let your boss spy on you – it lets your boss control you. \

It turns you into a reverse-centaur.

"Data At Work" is a research project from Cracked Labs that dives deep into the use of surveillance and control technology in a variety of workplaces – including workers' own cars and homes:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work

It consists of a series of papers that take deep dives into different vendors' bossware products, exploring how they are advertised, how they are used, and (crucially) how they make workers feel. There are also sections on how these interact with EU labor laws (the project is underwritten by the Austrian Arbeiterkammer), with the occasional aside about how weak US labor laws are.

The latest report in the series comes from Wolfie Christl, digging into Microsoft's "Dynamics 365," a suite of mobile apps designed to exert control over "field workers" – repair technicians, security guards, cleaners, and home help for ill, elderly and disabled people:

https://crackedlabs.org/dl/CrackedLabs_Christl_MobileWork.pdf

It's…not good. Microsoft advises its customers to use its products to track workers' location every "60 to 300 seconds." Workers are given tasks broken down into subtasks, each with its own expected time to completion. Workers are expected to use the app every time they arrive at a site, begin or complete a task or subtask, or start or end a break.

For bosses, all of this turns into a dashboard that shows how each worker is performing from instant to instant, whether they are meeting time targets, and whether they are spending more time on a task than the client's billing rate will pay for. Each work order has a clock showing elapsed seconds since it was issued.

For workers, the system generates new schedules with new work orders all day long, refreshing your work schedule as frequently as twice per hour. Bosses can flag workers as available for jobs that fall outside their territories and/or working hours, and the system will assign workers to jobs that require them to work in their off hours and travel long distances to do so.

Each task and subtask has a target time based on "AI" predictions. These are classic examples of Goodhart's Law: "any metric eventually becomes a target." The average time that workers take becomes the maximum time that a worker is allowed to take. Some jobs are easy, and can be completed in less time than assigned. When this happens, the average time to do a job shrinks, and the time allotted for normal (or difficult) jobs contracts.

Bosses get stack-ranks of workers showing which workers closed the most tickets, worked the fastest, spent the least time idle between jobs, and, of course, whether the client gave them five stars. Workers know it, creating an impossible bind: to do the job well, in a friendly fashion, the worker has to take time to talk with the client, understand their needs, and do the job. Anything less will generate unfavorable reports from clients. But doing this will blow through time quotas, which produces bad reports from the bossware. Heads you lose, tails the boss wins.

Predictably, Microsoft has shoveled "AI" into every corner of this product. Bosses don't just get charts showing them which workers are "underperforming" – they also get summaries of all the narrative aspects of the workers' reports (e.g. "My client was in severe pain so I took extra time to make her comfortable before leaving"), filled with the usual hallucinations and other botshit.

No boss could exert this kind of fine-grained, soul-destroying control over any workforce, much less a workforce that is out in the field all day, without Microsoft's automation tools. Armed with Dynamics 365, a boss becomes a true centaur, capable of superhuman feats of labor abuse.

And when workers are subjected to Dynamics 365, they become true reverse-centaurs, driven by "digital whips" to work at a pace that outstrips the long-term capacity of their minds and bodies to bear it. The enthnographic parts of the report veer between chilling and heartbreaking.

Microsoft strenuously objects to this characterization, insisting that their tool (which they advise bosses to use to check on workers' location every 60-300 seconds) is not a "surveillance" tool, it's a "coordination" tool. They say that all the AI in the tool is "Responsible AI," which is doubtless a great comfort to workers.

In Microsoft's (mild) defense, they are not unique. Other reports in the series show how retail workers and hotel housekeepers are subjected to "despot on demand" services provided by Oracle:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/retail-hospitality

Call centers, are even worse. After all, most of this stuff started with call centers:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/callcenter

I've written about Arise, a predatory "work from home" company that targets Black women to pay the company to work for it (they also have to pay if they quit!). Of course, they can be fired at will:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/29/impunity-corrodes/#arise-ye-prisoners

There's also a report about Celonis, a giant German company no one has ever heard of, which gathers a truly nightmarish quantity of information about white-collar workers' activities, subjecting them to AI phrenology to judge their "emotional quality" as well as other metrics:

https://crackedlabs.org/en/data-work/publications/processmining-algomanage

As Celonis shows, this stuff is coming for all of us. I've dubbed this process "the shitty technology adoption curve": the terrible things we do to prisoners, asylum seekers and people in mental institutions today gets repackaged tomorrow for students, parolees, Uber drivers and blue-collar workers. Then it works its way up the privilege gradient, until we're all being turned into reverse-centaurs under the "digital whip" of a centaur boss:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/25/the-peoples-amazon/#clippys-revenge

In mediating between asshole bosses and the workers they destroy, these bossware technologies do more than automate: they also insulate. Thanks to bossware, your boss doesn't have to look you in the eye (or come within range of your fists) to check in on you every 60 seconds and tell you that you've taken 11 seconds too long on a task. I recently learned a useful term for this: an "accountability sink," as described by Dan Davies in his new book, The Unaccountability Machine, which is high on my (very long) list of books to read:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

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/2024/08/02/despotism-on-demand/#virtual-whips

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

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

#pluralistic #bossware #surveillance #microsoft #gig work #reverse centaurs #labor #Wolfie Christl #cracked labs #data at work #AlgorithmWatch #Arbeiterkammer #austria #call centers #retail #dystopianism #torment nexus #shitty technology adoption curve

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homestuckreplay · 4 months ago

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d&d robot wizard named Intellibeam Laserstation

(page 1555-1572)

It’s feeling so Act 2 up in here because we are seeing a couple of kids try to figure out Sburb mechanics while being equal parts competent and silly.

But first, a revelation that Jack Noir has ‘a policy of handing out a REGISWORD and a HITLIST to just about everyone who enters your office’ (p.1555). This is in my homestuck jokes hall of fame because it’s a sudden punch of absurdity that adds to the plot and characterization, instead of detracting from them. I think the jokes that don’t hit for me tend to be when a character uses a phrase format or SBAHJ reference that feels out of character for them to say, or when a joke replaces what could be a character moment (for example, p.444). This joke contributes to Jack’s amorality and clear-headedness while inciting disproportionate violence, and preserves PM’s character arc, since it’s significant if she’s the only recipient of this hitlist who actually carries it out.

It sucks that the Queen keeps Jack locked behind a desk watching other people when he has this much flair and style. He should be on the stage. Also I cannot imagine the damage PM would inflict upon Jack if she saw him open that package that isn’t addressed to him. That’s a MAIL CRIME and I for one am not even curious what’s inside until the package reaches its ADDRESSED recipient.

Dave and Jade are a fun combination of Sburb players, because Dave has no concerns with playing the game ‘correctly’ and is willing to go with whatever makes things easier, while Jade has the inventor’s curiosity and wants to exploit hacks and glitches to advance as fast as possible. And Dave may have made fun of Jade for her ‘goofy modusses’ (p.382) but he is definitely benefiting from them now. Jade doesn’t play many games (p.442, 1400) but has spent her whole life engaging with Skaian technology, which is essentially ‘tech that functions on video game logic’ [sidenote: this definition made me decide that the sylladex is also 100% Skaian tech] so I think this helps her intuit how Sburb works.

The ability to alchemize the alchemiter feels right and correct. Alchemiter upgrades and add-ons allow for more complexity in the mechanics without needing more machines than would be practical to work with, just like how Sburb’s Atheneum (p.620) can store previously carved totems so that it’s not necessary to retain the physical objects. It seems like if enough machines are combined into one, the physical steps (moving around, handling and carving cruxite and cards) will be eliminated and the whole process will be automated. On a story level, it allows for power scaling as an upgrade can be anything, and there’s less concern for the time and space that a task takes – small developments like this and the suggestion of transportalizers between planets (p.1531) are still expanding the scope of the story.

I think a portable alchemiter would be a great next step. Gotta have a punch card for a little backpack and then Dave can carry this around while exploring his planet and he won’t end up like John, in a land of copper giclopses far away from weapon upgrades.

But what I love about Sburb is that it doesn’t care if an update is helpful. It lets the players make bad and nonsensical decisions and incorporates them into its logic. It’s open world and if you want a blender or a GameBro bust on your alchemiter then you can. It’s the difference between a game that makes an error sound if your strength is too low to equip the Ultra Greatsword and a game that lets you equip it and then just be a shitty fighter.

Dave struggling for space on page 1563 made me wonder about the smallest space needed to play Sburb. Its name suggests a full house, but a large room, like a well kept studio apartment, might have room. But a dorm room or houseboat or RV or nursing home or hospital simply would not work without modifications, and the idea of playing Sburb in unconventional living spaces is really interesting to me. Maybe if I write fanfiction it will be about that since it seems outside the scope of the comic at this point.

There’s no WAY we find out what the intellibeam laserstation does any time soon – this reveal is definitely getting saved, which leaves room for speculation! ‘Intelli’ comes from intelligence or intelligible, ‘beam’ and ‘laser’ both suggest a highly precise and advanced ray of light, and ‘station’ is a designated place for an activity (or a regular stopping point, and now I am imagining a train station for lasers). So, this is intelligent light, light that can shape and direct itself according to what it’s needed for? Or it’s light that can itself be used as a resource or material, a place for creating light or building with it? Light is a theoretically infinite resource, so could tie into Skaia’s ‘unlimited creative potential’ (p.422). It could even be involved in creating constructs – things with an intelligence of their own – giving lategame players the ability to alchemize their own light kingdom agents to combat the dark.

#homestuck #reaction #SHORT POST !! for once #i was away from my current city for two months and in that time my favorite local pizza place has started making Butter Paneer Pizza #which is garlic butter base (no red sauce) paneer jalapenos fresh cilantro crispy onions mango chutney and cheese #it might be the best thing ive ever eaten but im FLAT broke and cant afford takeout ever again #but huge shout out to the genius behind this recipe all the same #chrono

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mariacallous · 4 months ago

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On February 10, employees at the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) received an email asking them to list every contract at the bureau and note whether or not it was “critical” to the agency, as well as whether it contained any DEI components. This email was signed by Scott Langmack, who identified himself as a senior adviser to the so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). Langmack, according to his LinkedIn, already has another job: He’s the chief operating officer of Kukun, a property technology company that is, according to its website, “on a long-term mission to aggregate the hardest to find data.”

As is the case with other DOGE operatives—Tom Krause, for example, is performing the duties of the fiscal assistant secretary at the Treasury while holding down a day job as a software CEO at a company with millions in contracts with the Treasury—this could potentially create a conflict of interest, especially given a specific aspect of his role: According to sources and government documents reviewed by WIRED, Langmack has application-level access to some of the most critical and sensitive systems inside HUD, one of which contains records mapping billions of dollars in expenditures.

Another DOGE operative WIRED has identified is Michael Mirski, who works for TCC Management, a Michigan-based company that owns and operates mobile home parks across the US, and graduated from the Wharton School in 2014. (In a story he wrote for the school’s website, he asserted that the most important thing he learned there was to “Develop the infrastructure to collect data.”) According to the documents, he has write privileges on—meaning he can input overall changes to—a system that controls who has access to HUD systems.

Between them, records reviewed by WIRED show, the DOGE operatives have access to five different HUD systems. According to a HUD source with direct knowledge, this gives the DOGE operatives access to vast troves of data. These range from the individual identities of every single federal public housing voucher holder in the US, along with their financial information, to information on the hospitals, nursing homes, multifamily housing, and senior living facilities that HUD helps finance, as well as data on everything from homelessness rates to environmental and health hazards to federally insured mortgages.

Put together, experts and HUD sources say, all of this could give someone with access unique insight into the US real estate market.

Kukun did not respond to requests for comment about whether Langmack is drawing a salary while working at HUD or how long he will be with the department. A woman who answered the phone at TCC Management headquarters in Michigan but did not identify herself said Mirksi was "on leave until July." In response to a request for comment about Langmack’s access to systems, HUD spokesperson Kasey Lovett said, “DOGE and HUD are working as a team; to insinuate anything else is false. To further illustrate this unified mission, the secretary established a HUD DOGE taskforce.” In response to specific questions about Mirski’s access to systems and background and qualifications, she said, “We have not—and will not—comment on individual personnel. We are focused on serving the American people and working as one team.”

The property technology, or proptech, market covers a wide range of companies offering products and services meant to, for example, automate tenant-landlord interactions, or expedite the home purchasing process. Kukun focuses on helping homeowners and real estate investors assess the return on investment they’d get from renovating their properties and on predictive analytics that model where property values will rise in the future.

Doing this kind of estimation requires the use of what’s called an automated valuation model (AVM), a machine-learning model that predicts the prices or rents of certain properties. In April 2024, Kukun was one of eight companies selected to receive support from REACH, an accelerator run by the venture capital arm of the National Association of Realtors (NAR). Last year NAR agreed to a settlement with Missouri homebuyers, who alleged that realtor fees and certain listing requirements were anticompetitive.

“If you can better predict than others how a certain neighborhood will develop, you can invest in that market,” says Fabian Braesemann, a researcher at the Oxford Internet Institute. Doing so requires data, access to which can make any machine-learning model more accurate and more monetizable. This is the crux of the potential conflict of interest: While it is unclear how Langmack and Mirski are using or interpreting it in their roles at HUD, what is clear is that they have access to a wide range of sensitive data.

According to employees at HUD who spoke to WIRED on the condition of anonymity, there is currently a six-person DOGE team operating within the department. Four members are HUD employees whose tenures predate the current administration and have been assigned to the group; the others are Mirski and Langmack. The records reviewed by WIRED show that Mirski has been given read and write access to three different HUD systems, as well as read-only access to two more, while Langmack has been given read and write access to two of HUD’s core systems.

A positive, from one source’s perspective, is the fact that the DOGE operatives have been given application-level access to the systems, rather than direct access to the databases themselves. In theory, this means that they can only interact with the data through user interfaces, rather than having direct access to the server, which could allow them to execute queries directly on the database or make unrestricted or irreparable changes. However, this source still sees dangers inherent in granting this level of access.

��There are probably a dozen-plus ways that [application-level] read/write access to WASS or LOCCS could be translated into the entire databases being exfiltrated,” they said. There is no specific reason to think that DOGE operatives have inappropriately moved data—but even the possibility cuts against standard security protocols that HUD sources say are typically in place.

LOCCS, or Line of Credit Control System, is the first system to which both DOGE operatives within HUD, according to the records reviewed by WIRED, have both read and write access. Essentially HUD’s banking system, LOCCS “handles disbursement and cash management for the majority of HUD grant programs,” according to a user guide. Billions of dollars flow through the system every year, funding everything from public housing to disaster relief—such as rebuilding from the recent LA wildfires—to food security programs and rent payments.

The current balance in the LOCCS system, according to a record reviewed by WIRED, is over $100 billion—money Congress has approved for HUD projects but which has yet to be drawn down. Much of this money has been earmarked to cover disaster assistance and community development work, a source at the agency says.

Normally, those who have access to LOCCS require additional processing and approvals to access the system, and most only have “read” access, department employees say.

“Read/write is used for executing contracts and grants on the LOCCS side,” says one person. “It normally has strict banking procedures around doing anything with funds. For instance, you usually need at least two people to approve any decisions—same as you would with bank tellers in a physical bank.”

The second system to which documents indicate both DOGE operatives at HUD have both read and write access is the HUD Central Accounting and Program System (HUDCAPS), an “integrated management system for Section 8 programs under the jurisdiction of the Office of Public and Indian Housing,” according to HUD. (Section 8 is a federal program administered through local housing agencies that provides rental assistance, in the form of vouchers, to millions of lower-income families.) This system was a precursor to LOCCS and is currently being phased out, but it is still being used to process the payment of housing vouchers and contains huge amounts of personal information.

There are currently 2.3 million families in receipt of housing vouchers in the US, according to HUD’s own data, but the HUDCAPS database contains information on significantly more individuals because historical data is retained, says a source familiar with the system. People applying for HUD programs like housing vouchers have to submit sensitive personal information, including medical records and personal narratives.

“People entrust these stories to HUD,” the source says. “It’s not data in these systems, it’s operational trust.”

WASS, or the Web Access Security Subsystem, is the third system to which DOGE has both read and write access, though only Mirski has access to this system according to documents reviewed by WIRED. It’s used to grant permissions to other HUD systems. “Most of the functionality in WASS consists of looking up information stored in various tables to tell the security subsystem who you are, where you can go, and what you can do when you get there,” a user manual says.

“WASS is an application for provisioning rights to most if not all other HUD systems,” says a HUD source familiar with the systems who is shocked by Mirski’s level of access, because normally HUD employees don’t have read access, let alone write access. “WASS is the system for setting permissions for all of the other systems.”

In addition to these three systems, documents show that Mirski has read-only access to two others. One, the Integrated Disbursement and Information System (IDIS), is a nationwide database that tracks all HUD programs underway across the country. (“IDIS has confidential data about hidden locations of domestic violence shelters,” a HUD source says, “so even read access in there is horrible.”) The other is the Financial Assessment of Public Housing (FASS-PH), a database designed to “measure the financial condition of public housing agencies and assess their ability to provide safe and decent housing,” according to HUD’s website.

All of this is significant because, in addition to the potential for privacy violations, knowing what is in the records, or even having access to them, presents a serious potential conflict of interest.

“There are often bids to contract any development projects,” says Erin McElroy, an assistant professor at the University of Washington. “I can imagine having insider information definitely benefiting the private market, or those who will move back into the private market,” she alleges.

HUD has an oversight role in the mobile home space, the area on which TCC Management, which appears to have recently wiped its website, focuses. "It’s been a growing area of HUD’s work and focus over the past few decades," says one source there; this includes setting building standards, inspecting factories, and taking in complaints. This presents another potential conflict of interest.

Braesemann says it’s not just the insider access to information and data that could be a potential problem, but that people coming from the private sector may not understand the point of HUD programs. Something like Section 8 housing, he notes, could be perceived as not working in alignment with market forces—“Because there might be higher real estate value, these people should be displaced and go somewhere else”—even though its purpose is specifically to buffer against the market.

Like other government agencies, HUD is facing mass purges of its workforce. NPR has reported that 84 percent of the staff of the Office of Community Planning and Development, which supports homeless people, faces termination, while the president of a union representing HUD workers has estimated that up to half the workforce could be cut The chapter on housing policy in Project 2025—the right-wing playbook to remake the federal government that the Trump administration appears to be following—outlines plans to massively scale back HUD programs like public housing, housing assistance vouchers, and first-time home buyer assistance.

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starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

Text

show me how to lay my sword down long enough to let you through - clone^2 ch2

[My parents don’t get up until seven, and they’re in the lab by eight. They typically don’t leave the lab until after I get home.] Danny says as he leads Damian into the kitchen, the automated voice of the translator AI cutting through the air easily. Damian stuck close to his side, eyes narrow and a snooty look of disdain stamped on his face like a printing press while his eyes flit around the room.

The kid had woken up immediately upon Danny shuffling out from beneath his desk, and he had to scurry back to avoid being skewered by Damian’s katana. He bumped into his desk in the process, and the muffled thud it made against the wall had Danny praying that his parents wouldn’t wake up from the noise.

(“I should’ve confiscated that.” He muttered, gripping the table with white knuckles and mouth pursed into a thin line. The business end of Damian’s katana staring him in the nose.)

(He should’ve expected the baby assassin to sleep lighter than a feather. His mistake, of course. Damian realized quickly after where he was, thankfully, so Danny didn’t have to fight him off in his room. The noise and mess that would make would have surely woken up his parents, and he still hasn’t come up with an excuse as to why Damian was even there.)

So now with Damian awake, Danny decided to just go ahead and give him a quick tour of the house so that he knew where everything was. Fuuuck, it was only setting in now that he had to leave the kid home, alone, all day.

(Maybe things will be fine. Murphy screwed him over already with this, he has other people to torment, surely. Like the other heroes, for example.)

Wherever Damian’s ‘League of Assassins’ was situated, it was probably ten times nicer than Danny’s house. That is, if Danny’s assumption from the look on Damian’s face was correct.

Breathing out through his nose, Danny leads Damian over to the fridge, his fingers digging into the phone screen again. [I don’t have an excuse ready for why you’re here, so please don’t get seen by them. They spend all day in the lab so you should be able to roam the house freely.]

He feels like the butler from a period drama set telling the down-on-her-wealth noble lady the rules of the manor, while she was staying with a fabulously wealthy nobleman of higher standing. It felt ridiculous. But it was unfortunately necessary, he can’t imagine what kind of reaction his parents would have to Damian — and what kind of reaction Damian would have to his parents.

Damian scowls at him and says something in Arabic, spitting it out like acid while his arms cross over his chest grumpily. Danny stops and turns to him fully, raising a deadpan eyebrow. Damian repeats what he said, looking at Danny like he wants him to spontaneously burst into flames.

They stare at each other for thirty, uncomfortable seconds, with Danny keeping his deadpan steady, before finally he silently holds his phone out. Damian breaks their staring contest to look down, and his surly expression deepens.

Grumbling under his breath, Damian snags it out of his hand. Danny counts his fingers as he pulls his hand away.

(When he counts all five still there, he drops his arm back to his side.)

[I will stay hidden, for now.] Damian spits out, looking supremely disgruntled. It’s kind of endearing, but endearing the same way a tiger cub was. Cute, but undoubtedly dangerous. Rather than handing back his phone, Damian speaks into it again. [But figure out what to tell them. I am above hiding.]

“Planning on it.” Danny mutters, nodding sharply before taking back his phone and turning back to the fridge. Before he even takes the handle, Danny pushes his hair from his face and leans forward, pressing his ear to the door. The metal is cold on his cheek, but he barely pays it to mind.

Ecto-contaminated food didn’t have nearly enough of a signature to fully trigger his ghost sense, but it did make a strange, buzz-humming sound that felt more internal than external. Like the sensation that Danny himself was humming instead.

From his peripherals, Danny can see Damian staring at him with unconcealed bewilderment, his apparent surliness temporarily forgotten in favor of looking at Danny like he was an idiot. “Madha tafaeala?”

In lieu of answering, Danny just holds up a finger at Damian. Something the little dude really doesn’t appreciate, as he immediately scowls at Danny and makes that ‘myeh’-like expression that kids do when they’re trying to give someone they don’t like attitude without actually saying anything. The one that, as far as Danny is concerned, doesn’t have a real term for but everyone knows what it is anyway.

Either way, Damian makes a face at him that does, briefly, succeed in irritating Danny. He says nothing and cranes his ears instead, trying to catch if there’s any internal buzzing coming from inside the fridge. His hand drifts instinctively to the counter, where he and Jazz had moved the knife block for this exact reason.

…Will he have to hide this with Damian here? He hopes not, the last time the knife block got moved he forgot, and had to strangle a half-eaten chicken from the fridge after it came back with fowl vengeance.

When he doesn’t hear or feel anything out of the ordinary, he leans back and swings the door open with ease. Rows upon rows of liquid-jellied-solidified-whatever-it-was-feeling-at-the-time ectoplasm sat in glass canisters, tupperware, and bottles on the shelves. Glowing green in between the stuff that was actually food, and washing a buzz over Danny like someone just draped him in a weighted blanket.

(He should clarify. Ectoplasm does exhibit its own signature that’s too weak to signal his ghost sense, but that buzzing-humming feels more like the painless tingling of when part of his spine falls asleep. Except everywhere, and the feeling is heavier in his head. It’s oddly comforting. Nostalgic; like the smell after the snow’s freshly melted and the weather is warm. It is very much not like the ominous, buzzing-humming-intent of a partially reanimated chicken that’s regained some of its sentience and wanted revenge.)

Behind him, Damian makes some kind of squeaking sound. Or maybe it’s more like a yelp. Either way, it’s alarmed and loud enough that Danny turns around with half a jumping heart and a ‘shush’ on the tip of his tongue.

“Ladayk ma' lieazir!” Damian hisses, pointing behind Danny at the canisters behind him. Damian’s eyes narrow into slits, and he hunches up like a stray cat that’s been cornered. “Min 'ayn hasalt ealaa ma' lieazir?!”

Danny follows the point of his finger, and sees the ectoplasm canisters behind him. “The ectoplasm?” He asks aloud, looking back at Damian in bewilderment.

Apprehension tightens slowly in his chest. Damian used that word again — and Danny only catches it because it was what Damian had been calling him last night, in the warehouse. He thought it meant ‘stranger’ or something — but, he glances back at the ectoplasm in the fridge.

Was Damian calling him ectoplasm?

He knows what ectoplasm was?

What had been a steady tightening in his chest suddenly fastens like a noose. Danny reaches for one of the canisters just to make sure, and Damian watches him tersely as he curls a hand around one of the canisters and pulls it forward. He doesn’t take it off the shelf, but he does gesture slightly with it. “This?” He asks, “The ectoplasm. Is this what you’re talking about?” He knows he has a translator on his phone, but he doesn’t think he’ll need it for this.

He recalls the word Damian used, and frowns. “The- the lazeer? Laziere?” It’s an embarrassing attempt at trying to repeat it, but Damian understands what he’s saying anyways and nods sharply.

“Niema, ma' lieazir. Kif lidayk.”

Danny really doesn’t like that Damian knows what ectoplasm is, and he really doesn’t like the idea that his League of Assassins place knows about it too, and seemingly has access to the physical stuff. This feels too much like going swimming in the ocean and feeling something brush against his foot.

Now he really needs to make sure that Damian never makes it back to the League. The idea of a bunch of assassins finding out that his parents can make ectoplasmic weapons terrifies him, just a smidge. (Just what has he gotten himself into?)

Putting the canister down and pushing it away from the ledge, Danny reaches for the milk instead, his heart beating uncomfortably in his ears. A discomfited “Hn.” comes out under his breath as he plucks the jug off the shelf and shuts the door, it closes a little more forcibly than normal. Danny reaches for his phone.

The word ectoplasm doesn’t translate into Arabic, he checks before he says anything. Danny reaches over Damian to put the milk on the table as he types, still frowning uneasily. [It’s ghost stuff.] He says, and then says aloud: “Ectoplasm.”

“Ec-to-plasm.” Damian repeats curtly, lip curling. Danny nods curtly.

Rather than repeating himself, Danny types into his phone again. [You’re not allowed in the lab without me. Don’t touch the ghost stuff in the fridge, it’s dangerous.] He says, [I was listening to the fridge because the food likes to come alive and attack, if you need food from the fridge, grab a knife.] He’ll try and show Damian how to listen for reanimated food later, it’s a little harder without a ghost sense but the food moves, so he’ll show him how to listen for that.

Damian scoffs; “'Adhhab hayth 'urid 'ayuha almuhtal.” and reaches out to take the phone from his hand.

Rather than letting him, Danny pirouettes away, holding his phone over his head, “Nah-ah-ah.” He says, watching Damian’s face twist indignantly into anger. [We’ll talk more later, I want breakfast and you’re probably hungry.]

(Is he avoiding? Absolutely, he is. But it’s early, and Danny is much too tired to entertain the impending doom sinking into his chest like snow caving in a roof. He needs to do something about the information that a league of assassins has access to ectoplasm, but that something is… being put on the backburner for now.)

(Maybe he’s just catastrophizing — he’s gotten pretty good at that over the years. Maybe he’s putting too much weight on the idea; maybe he’s just sleep deprived. No, he’s definitely sleep deprived. Either way, he’s putting a pin in the murder group for now.)

Danny turns for the pantry, and takes about one step before he remembers the phone in his hand. Twisting around, he plops it onto the table for Damian, and then marches over to the pantry for the cereal.

The oven clock reads six-twenty-eight, and that doesn’t have Danny feeling all that great. He said earlier that his parents got up at seven, so they only have thirty-two minutes before then. Then another ten or so before his parents come down for breakfast. Mom takes the shower first, and dad comes downstairs to get started on breakfast. Sometimes it's cereal, but he likes making eggs if they haven’t been irradiated.

The pantry swings open and Danny pulls out a box of cereal, his brows furrowed in thought. Dad will want to talk to him if he sees him — so it’s for the best that Danny and Damian finish eating before dad makes it to the hallway. He turns and glances at the time again. Six-thirty. Thirty minutes. He puts the box onto the table and grabs their bowls and spoons.

There’s a look of apprehension on Damian’s face as he puts everything down, his fingers curled around Danny’s phone. His eyes flick up to Danny, and then he holds up his phone. [Is this what you eat?] He asks, before eyeing the table again.

Danny can’t stop the quiet snort that escapes him, his thoughts quieting for a moment as he slides into his chair, before reaching over and plucking the phone out of Damian’s hand. [Sorry bud, it’s all we’ve got time for before my parents get up.]

Damian makes a disgruntled face, and sits down.

(He idly makes a mental note to wrangle out of Damian later what kind of foods he likes. He’s not too bad at cooking. He’s better than Jazz, at least.)

—-----

They make it back up to Danny’s room by six-fifty-two, just as Danny hears his parents shuffling around in their room. They’re up a little earlier than normal. His mom’s limb, quieter footsteps already padding for the master bathroom. Danny is closing the door when he hears a familiar thud, and the low, sleepy groan of his dad sitting up and putting his feet on the ground.

Damian bounds away and is already situated on Danny’s bed when he turns around, fingers snatching his katana from beneath the pillows before he turns and sits stiffly with it in his lap.

It was a bit of a ridiculous sight: despite being awake for nearly an hour, Damian’s bed-head hadn’t changed a bit, with a tangled bunch of curls jutting out from one side of his head. Pair that with him still wearing Danny’s NASA tee (and being swamped in it), and the katana, and Danny was half tempted to snap a picture. Again, he was finding himself endeared.

He does end up sneaking that picture as he strides over to his closet to rummage for clothes.

[I’ll try and think of a way to get you home.] He lies as he shifts through the shirts on the hangers, typing with his thumb, and tilted halfway with his phone jutting out for Damian to hear. [But that’s gonna take a while, so we should get you some different clothes soon.] There was no way he was letting this kid wear the same thing every day, this might take weeks.

He yanks a yellow turtleneck that Tucker got him off the hanger and tosses it out onto the bed. It lands next to Damian with a quiet thump, and the kid shuffles away from it with a glare as if it's personally offended him. Danny stifles a smile and walks out, grabbing his hoodie-jacket from its spot on the door and tossing it onto the bed as well.

Damian grumbles something, then holds out his hand for the phone. Danny hands it to him as he passes by, going over to his desk to pick up his gloves and grappling hook, before turning to his bag.

[I am not worried about the time, Mother will come looking for me.] Damian tells him, sticking his nose up into the air and missing the cold seize of Danny’s heart and the tensing up of his shoulders. His mother. Who was probably also an assassin from the assassin club Damian was made from.

(A blood rush sends stars spinning around in the corners of Danny’s vision, and he pauses in order to stare blankly at the top of his half-opened backpack. He quickly blinks it away, and unzips his bag fully to shove his gear into one of the larger pockets.)

He hums low, turning to look at Damian with a fake smile plastered on his face. “That’s great, bud.”

(It should be a good thing, but he can’t quite shake the whole ‘assassins’ thing. Specifically… well, all of it. It’s all giving him a headache to sort through.)

Damian scoffs at him, [I cannot understand you.]

Danny snorts unwittingly, turning and shoving his gloves into an inside side pocket just as Damian throws his phone at him. He catches it before it can slam into the wall — or Danny’s head, and puts his grappling hook into his bag before typing into the translator. [I said that it’s good. I’m glad your mom is looking for you.]

That was another lie, and he felt bad that it had to be. Damian rolls his eyes at him, and Danny stuffs his phone into his back pocket and grabs his hook.

When his bag is accounted for, Danny finally focuses on getting dressed. He moves out to the bathroom to change, admittedly hot-footing it a bit so that Damian is alone for the least amount of time possible. He passes a sleep-mussed Jazz heading for the stairs, and she pauses to mess with his hair.

“Did you stay up all night again?” She mumbles, her fingers catch on a few tangles, but slide out at the end easily. “You don’t have bedhead.”

Danny pauses, half-distracted by the feeling of her hands in his hair and the urge to hurry through getting dressed. “Only a little.” He says, scurrying away and opening the door to the bathroom. “Was workin’ on a case.”

Jazz frowns at him, and he closes the door before she can say anything.

(He’s in the middle of brushing his teeth when he remembers that Damian will need other essentials than just clothes, and immediately starts compiling a mental list.)

He’s got half an arm through his jacket when he leaves the bathroom, his attention split between getting it on and typing into his phone. When he opens the door, there’s quiet, rapid footsteps shuffling before he sees Damian hopping back onto the bed, staring at him stonily and like a kid who was acting like he hadn’t been doing anything.

A smile tugs at the corner of Danny’s mouth, and he types into his phone to add something before hitting play on the translator. [I have to head out now, you can look around my room if you’d like. Don’t touch the brown files on my desk, I’ll be back after school ends. I should have a game plan by then. Don’t be seen by my parents.]

As it speaks, Danny strides over and grabs his backpack. Damian’s eyes follow him the whole time, and Danny slings his bag over his shoulders and stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

Damian nods curtly at him, and before Danny leaves he reaches over and plucks a hairband off his dresser, pinching it between his teeth.

“Okay, I’m off.” He repeats, voice slightly muffled by the hairband as he starts pulling his hair up. There’s a huff from Damian and a knowingly annoyed look, and Danny’s smile grows a little out of amusement. He tugs the tie out from his mouth and twists it around his hair. “Be good, Damian.”

Green eyes narrow at him, and Danny hurries out of the room, closing the door behind him.

(He was a little — no, scratch that, a lot apprehensive about leaving Damian here alone for most of the day. He was worried about his parents, perhaps a little too much, and he was worried about Damian recognizing the ectoplasm in the fridge. He’s worried about the whole thing with these ‘League of Assassins’ people, and he’s worried about how he’s going to explain Damian’s presence to his parents. And he’s most especially worried about how on earth he was going to convince Damian to not return home.)

Instead of going for the stairs, Danny turns and hurries over to the end of the hallway where the ladder to the rooftop is. There’s a lot he needs to think about, too much for him to want to walk with Sam and Tucker.

The nice thing about people is that they don’t really ever look up.

—----------

Danny: hey i’ll meet you guys at school

Tucker: did something happen during patrol?

Danny: something like that

Danny: i’ll tell you in class

Sam: alright. Hop safe

[Danny liked Sam's message]

—-------------

(if continued)

“Dude.”

“I know.”

“Dude.”

“I know.”

“Dude!”

“I know!”

Danny drops his head onto his desk with an unceremonious thump, groaning low with his nose smushed into the wood. Sam’s hands, buried in his hair and in the midst of messing with it, stills to let him. Some of the strands slip out of her fingers and pool around Danny’s face, causing a curtain. It tickles a little.

Maybe he should have just walked to school with them, telling them about Damian probably would’ve garnered less attention that way. He can feel the gazes of their classmates — or at least, the ones not slowly filtering into the room — turning onto them, and burning into his head.

But running over the rooftops, albeit only until the residential area ended, was sorely needed. It didn’t help clear all of his thoughts, or really much of any of them, but it’d chased away the worst of his anxieties about it. Like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a stuffy room.

(This has been, officially, the longest… five hours of his life. And he’s had many, many long five hours in the last two years.)

(Pariah Dark and his evil future self are tied for the record of being the longest twenty-four hours of his life. Finding out he was a clone doesn’t count — it was still ongoing, and distressingly permanent.)

Tucker makes a noise, and Danny turns his head just in time to see him drop into his desk beside him, lifting his hat to run his hand over his curls with a look of disbelief. He’s staring unseeingly over Danny’s head for a whole of two seconds before looking back down.

“So he just — what, popped out of the ground? Like a daisy?”

Sam continues with her ministrations, and her fingers brush against his neck as she straightens his hair down his back. It’s soothing, enough so that the sleep-soreness of his eyelids becomes a lot more evident to him.

“Hn. Something like that. If the ground was a once-in-a-lifetime portal and the daisy was a murderous six year old.” He mutters, blinking slowly to try and keep himself awake. Sam’s nails scratch behind his ears, gathering up his hair again to finger-comb out the tangles, and he sighs quietly in content.

He sees Tucker suppress a smile, and he can practically sense Sam doing the same thing. Danny stares, did his ears do the thing again—?

“You don’t think a ghost had something to do with it?” Sam asks him, her voice staying low as she tugged out the knots in his hair. “It’s really strange that…” She pauses. Danny can feel her lean against his chair, and he lifts his head slightly as Tucker leans in too. “..that Damian just appeared in front of you right after you got done with fighting a ghost.”

Hrm. She was right. It was weird. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He says quietly, “I was too busy trying to get him to stop attacking me.” And after that he was busy trying to get them both home in one piece, and then after that was the whole identity crisis—

And he’s gonna stop there before his tired mind latches onto that spiral again.

Sam and Tucker’s mouths press together worriedly, and Danny finds himself frowning too. “Maybe I can sneak into the Zone sometime this week and ask one of the Ancients.” Frostbite knew a lot about the Infinite Realms in general, but Pandora might know more about strange magic.

He could try Clockwork, but finding the clocktower always feels like a scavenger hunt, and getting straight answers out of the ghost is like trying to catch the wind in a bag. Danny normally wouldn’t mind, he kinda likes the challenge, but now is not a good time for that.

Either way, it was just another thing on his long list of things to do this week, on top of everything else he had to do since acquiring Damian. He could feel a stress headache coming in, and it was only — he takes a quick glance at the clock — eight-fourteen. Yeah, longest five hours of his life. And counting.

Hrrm. “I just can’t believe my luck.” He complains, of all people to clone, of all kids to end up being cloned. It had to be the one kid who, by technicality, was his biological son. That thought alone felt like a tsunami about to swallow him whole. It was confusing, and complicated.

It shouldn’t have to be.

The thing is, Danny doesn’t view Damian Wayne as his son. Not by a long shot. Damian Wayne was Bruce Wayne’s son. But just like how Ellie isn’t Danny, and Danny isn’t Bruce; Damian is not Damian Wayne. And Danny still doesn’t view him as a son, and obviously Damian doesn’t view him as a father. But it all feels like a strange gray area, like a merry-go-round that’s not turning off, and it wouldn’t have to be if his parents hadn’t been fucking careless with their DNA samples—

It’s been four months why does he still feel so raw—

Tucker snorts roughly, bringing Danny out from his head.

He breathes in deep, blinking quickly, as Tucker leans back into his chair. Sam starts sectioning off Danny’s hair. “Yeah, fair enough,” he says, “bad luck is my schtick though, Danny, so don’t go start encroaching on my brand.”

“Your brand?” Sam repeats, voice lilting upward. Danny can imagine she’s raising an eyebrow at him, and he snickers both at the thought and at Tucker.

Tucker’s eyes light up at the sound, and he grins like he’s won a prize. “Yeah, my brand! You know, Bad Luck Tuck?”

Danny snickers louder, adjusting to sit more comfortably. “I thought your brand was Too Fine Foley.”

“I can have more than one brand.”

Sam snickers this time, in the midst of braiding Danny’s hair. It feels fantastic, Danny hums lowly, sinking like putty into his desk. “I’m pretty sure that’s called a monopoly, Tuck.”

Danny laughs quietly, blinking lizard-like. “Tuck Driver.”

Sam barks out a harsh laugh, and it trails off into stifled chuckles as Tucker’s jaw drops. The wide grin on his face betrays any potential upset he might have though. “That’s the mania setting in.” He says, voice thick with laughter, “That’s the fucking sleep mania talking right now. Take a nap, dude, we’ll wake you up when class ends.”

Sleep sounds great actually, and he’s gonna do it soon anyways with Sam still doing his hair. But— “I’m not done talking about Damian.” He protests, but his eyes are closing on their own, as if all they needed to hear was him agreeing to sleep to do it.

Tucker waves his hand, “It’s not like we can’t talk about him later; nap first. Your eyebags can’t get any darker.” He assures, “Don’t worry, we’ll take notes for you.”

“Hnn… fine.” Danny says, and lets his eyes close. He’s out like a light in minutes.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #clone^2 #dpxdc fics #starrys fics #danny's 'hns' are my favorite thing ever i hope you guys know #the longer i look at this the pissier i get at the word count -- i think its too low -- so im going to post this now without looking #not much thoughts to put here bc all my rambling was left in the ao3 end notes

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liongoatsnake · 10 months ago

Text

ESSAY: My Hearthome in ABZÛ

by Ocean Watcher from House of Chimeras (He/they) I was inspired to write this essay after attending the panel, "No Place Like Home: On Hearthomes" at Othercon 2024 Note: This won't be the official home of this essay. I'm planning on adding it to our system's website, The Chimeras Library sometime in the future either as a standalone essay or part of something bigger.

My Hearthome in ABZU

by Ocean Watcher from House of Chimeras Date Written: 15 August 2024 Approx. Word Count: ~2,180

Approx. Reading Time: ~17 minutes

“They say home is where the heart is, and for most people it consists of four walls and a welcome mat. For me, it’s the ocean.” ~ Bethany Hamilton, Soul Surfer. Directed by Sean McNamara. California: Sony Pictures Releasing, 2011.

Defining Hearthome

A hearthome is a location, whether real or otherwise, that an individual has a strong emotional connection toward to the point it feels like a “home,” typically despite never having lived or spent a significant amount of time there. The specifics on what qualifies as a hearthome within this general definition is largely up for personal interpretation.

The location in question can be as all-encompassing as a whole planet all the way down to something much, much smaller. The location could be a real place (whether that be one that still currently exists or a location that once existed but doesn’t anymore), a setting depicted in fictional media, or something else entirely. It can also be a specific easily named location or merely a general description of a place. Finally, the exact kind of emotional connection and feeling like “home” a location can elicit can range from a feeling of familiarity, of comfort and relaxation, safety, nostalgia, homesickness, and/or more. In short, within the definition of hearthome there are many possibilities on how the experience can exist.

The term used to describe someone who has a hearthome or the state of having a hearthome is sometimes called hearthic, though not everyone uses it. (So, for example someone might say “I have a hearthome in [insert place here]” rather than saying “I am [insert place here]hearthic.” Whether hearthic is used or not alongside the term hearthome is largely personal preference.

Describing ABZÛ

ABZÛ (also written as Abzû) is a video game initially released in 2016. The game fits within several genres including adventure, simulation, and art video game. It has no dialogue and so the story is told solely through visuals. The main draw of the game is the graphics put into the diverse ocean environments and the wide range of marine life that inhabits each area. Most of ABZÛ is home to animal species that can be found in today’s oceans; however, there are over a dozen or so species that appear in the game that went extinct a long time ago.

The gameplay itself consists of the player controlling an android diver exploring a large variety of ocean environments in a vast ocean and getting to see a myriad of marine life at every turn.

Knowing the backstory of what occurs isn’t needed, but for some context: Deep at the bottom of this ocean was a primordial source of infinite energy. Where the energy permeated from the ground life spontaneously came into being. An ancient civilization discovered they could collect and use it to create (marine) life whenever and wherever they wished. However, at some point, they created machines to automate the process. The creation of these machines caused a disruption of the natural flow of life as they took up so much energy they drained the vitality of the ocean away. The civilization disappeared, leaving their machines to continue to operate. The objective of the player-controlled robot diver, another creation of the ancient civilization, is to return the energy back to the ocean and put an end to the machines causing the destruction.

ABZÛ is overall a short game, with most players seeming to complete it within an hour and thirty minutes to two hours, on average.

Home is Where the Heart Is Indeed

So, my hearthome is ABZÛ.

To start, I want to put some context between the game ABZÛ and my hearthome ABZÛ. The environments in the game are striking and hold an emotional importance to an extent that I have labeled it as a hearthome; however, the ABZÛ that I think of in my mind’s eye and thoughts is not just an exact mirror of the game. That is because the ABZÛ I have conceptualized in my own mind is laid out like a normal(ish) ocean thanks to some noemata I have.

The noemata I have reads that all the “game-y” elements necessary for it to function as, well, a game, aren’t present in the idea of ABZÛ that makes up my hearthome. So, all the things necessary to keep a player in a defined area and on a specific path are absent. Further, all the different locations shown in the game would exist in a much more natural way. Plus, even more biodiversity would exist than shown in the game itself (as it is only populated with a little more than a few hundred different species whereas a more realistic ocean would have tens of thousands). Basically, the concept of ABZÛ in my mind looks and functions a lot more like a natural ocean (if a much, much more vibrant and filled with even more aquatic life, one).

I also have noemata that reads that while the old structures of the civilization still exist in a way like how they appear in the game, the inverted pyramid machines have long broken down and been reclaimed by the ocean and there are no unnatural dead zones. (So, I guess, one could say my hearthome is based off how things look at the end of the game.)

So, there is all that.

That is all well and good, but now I want to cover why exactly I distinguish ABZÛ as a hearthome; why I feel it warrants a special label of significance to me at all.

Not to state the obvious, but games are meant to be emotionally and/or mentally moving. They are meant to make a player feel something. ABZÛ is no different. It is meant to be a “pretty ocean” game, if you will. The environments in ABZÛ certainly reflect a more idealized and concentrated concept of ocean life (the magnitude of marine life at any particular point in the game itself being far more than an ecosystem could sustain). So, of course, the game is meant to be visually stunning and calming (save for a section in the game roughly 3/5ths in) in relation to the ocean, but my feelings for the game go deeper than what would be normally expected.

It is true that much of the allure I have toward ABZÛ could be dismissed as merely as a natural consequence of my alterhumanity being so immersed in the ocean if not for the fact there are aspects of ABZÛ that draw out emotions and noemata that can’t be easily waved off in that manner. There are plenty of ocean-themed games and whatnot, yet it’s this specific one I have this connection toward. I have no idea why exactly I have a hearthome in this game specifically. I couldn’t tell you why. For whatever reason, its ABZÛ that resonates with me so strongly.

The biggest thing that stands out for me is the fact the area in the game that holds the most profound feelings of familiarity and belonging is the underwater city. At one point in the game, some underwater caves open into a vast underground space where a half-submerged city exists. (My view of things through some more noemata looks a lot more like an ancient city proper because, again, ABZÛ is a game so what exists is a lot more simplified and limited.) It is a city abandoned and in ruins and yet every surface is still covered in tile and brick of beautiful blue hues. Plants like trees, flowers, and vines populate the space above the water, lily pads and other floating plants pepper the water’s surface, and below sea plants like kelp, sea grass, and so much more cover much of the floor. Sunlight shines down from high above; my noemata filling in with the idea the city resides within a long extinct volcano rising above the ocean’s surface. Animals are everywhere both above and below the water. It’s this place I gravitate towards the most.

But what exactly do I feel?

Something about it resonates with me. It is a place that feels like home to a part of me. Something about it feels deeply right and missed despite never having lived there nor do I feel like it is a place I am “from,” in any specific way. The feelings my hearthome draw out of me can mostly be best described as comfort, relief, safety, and rightness. There is something familiar about it, even upon my first playthrough. There is maybe even a tinge of nostalgia even though I strongly feel like there isn’t anything past-life-like at play as to why I have this hearthome. It just feels so familiar and comforting to me.

Starting out, my feelings also included what I can best describe as a yearning or longing to want to be there, even if only to visit. There was a desire to know a place like it with my own eyes as much as I knew it already in my heart somehow. So, there was a bit of almost homesickness there too. All these feelings are described in the past tense because of something that happened a bit after first playing the game.

Sometime after first playing ABZÛ, a sunken city with strong similarities to the one in the game was discovered in the ocean in our system’s innerworld. It is not a perfect exact copy, but it has all the same elements and looks how my hearthome appears through the lens of the noemata I have. I know I didn’t consciously will the location in our innerworld to come into existence, no one here can make such blatant conscious changes to our innerworld; however, I’m far less certain if my discovery of the game and the emotions it elicited didn’t cause the sunken city to appear in our innerworld as an involuntary reaction. (Not long after its appearance, several other areas in the game also found their way into the ocean of our system’s innerworld.) Since its appearance and discovery, I spend much of my time in these impacted areas, especially the sunken abandoned city. Since its appearance, the location has become a much beloved place to be, not just for me but also for many other aquatics in the system. The area is aesthetically pleasing and interesting to move around in. There is a lot of wildlife so hunting instincts can be indulged and so on. When not focused on fronting it is a nice place to exist in.

I’ve been aware of my emotional connection to the setting depicted in ABZÛ since July 2018 after playing it for the first time. Since buying it on Steam, I’ve logged many hours on it and have played through its entirety several times. However, I had not labeled my feelings towards this game as a hearthome until recently. Back then, I never questioned or analyzed my feelings surrounding the environments in the game. I knew it soothed something in me to play the game, going out to the sunken city in the innerworld for a while, or even just imagine myself swimming in one of my favorite areas, but I didn’t think about why exactly that was the case.

I didn’t make the connection between my experiences with ABZÛ to the term, hearthome until August of 2024. The moment of realization came while listening to the panel, “No Place Like Home: On Hearthomes” at Othercon 2024. Upon Rani, the panel’s host, describing the meaning of the term, I realized my feelings towards ABZÛ fit perfectly within the word. It wasn’t even a particularly jarring realization, and I am not sure how I had never made the connection before. Since that realization, I’ve come to label my feelings around the game, ABZÛ as my hearthome.

On the topic of alterhuman terms, I don’t use the term hearthic to refer to my state of having a hearthome at this time, solely because the word just doesn’t feel right when I try to use it in context. That could change, but for now, that is that.

I do consider my hearthome to be a part of my alterhumanity. My hearthome certainly fits neatly into my wider alterhumanity; ocean life and all that. That being said, I don’t think my hearthome has as strong of an impact on my daily experiences as other aspects do. My feelings around my hearthome are most often closer to something in the background more than anything. It is still there, and it is still important, it is just not as blatant and impactful in my daily life compared to something like my phantom body from my theriotypes. The fact parts of the game now exist in the innerworld and are prime locations for me to go after fronting to alleviate species dysphoria is perhaps the most blatant way my hearthome impacts my greater alterhumanity.

Bibliography

505 Games, ABZÛ. 505 Games, 2015, Microsoft Windows.

“Glossary,” Alt+H, https://alt-h.net/educate/glossary.php . Archived on 19 Apr 2020: https://web.archive.org/web/20200419100422/https://alt-h.net/educate/glossary.php

Lepidoptera Choir. “Hearthic” astrophellian on Tumblr. 9 April 2022. https://astrophellian.tumblr.com/post/681107250894503936/hearthic . Archived on 30 September 2022: https://web.archive.org/web/20220930143533/https://astrophellian.tumblr.com/post/681107250894503936/hearthic

Rani. “No Place Like Home: On Hearthomes,” Othercon 2024, 11 August 2024, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYVF_R6v50Q

#hearthome #hearthic #alterhuman #alterhumanity #alterhuman essay

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bleach-your-panties · 2 years ago

Text

💔the pathological liar - pro hero! yo shindou x fem! pro hero! gf! reader

warnings: characters aged up to 20+, lying, cheating, arguing, manipulation, gaslighting, sexual activities, non-con (reader does say no), dub-con, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, name-calling, physical struggles, physical fighting (one-sided, so assault?), reader has a smart ass mouth and is kinda toxic as well, slight!yandere!yo, toxic relationships, toxic mindsets, false imprisonment, triggering subject at the end. read at your own risk!

☠️: some dialogue/actions inspired by true events.

💔: banner images from pinterest.

💔: banner made by me with canva.

post themes: say my name - destiny's child

confessions, parts I & II - usher

take a bow - rihanna

shake it off - mariah carey

💔 3.5k words

💔read in dark mode for best experience!

🖤series 🖤touya.

—--

I know you say that I am assuming things

Something's going down that's the way it seems

Shouldn't be no reason why you're acting strange

If nobody's holding you back from me

'Cause I know how you usually do

When you're saying everything to me times two

Why can't you just tell the truth?

If somebody's there, then tell me who

—--

"Baby, ain't nothing good. It's all bad."

—--

'Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system:

"Shindou, Yo". Cannot come to the phone right now, please leave your message at the tone-'

Before the recording could finish, you were throwing your iPhone across your bed as you shrugged your backpack off of your shoulders.

Your boyfriend, Yo Shindou, never answered his phone when you called. Never when you called, but he'd always immediately send a text or call you back hours later, claiming that his phone was dead or that he'd misplaced it somewhere at the agency.

Like now, for example.

'ding'

'Sorry babe, got caught up in something last minute at the agency. Call you back when I'm home. Love you.'

You scoffed as you read over the message.

You wouldn't be getting a call back, that much you knew for certain.

With a sudden urge to be petty, you texted back:

'Something like what, Yo? Another bitch's pussy? Yeah, people at my agency are starting to talk and guess who's the topic of conversation? Just know that the label of 'cheating boyfriend' won't do your "picture perfect" image any justice. Bitch.'

After hitting send, you tossed the phone back onto your bed and that was where it would lay until you got out of the shower.

As soon as your bathroom door closed, the phone vibrated with another text.

'Oh, so we're doing this shit again? Bet. I'll be over in 20.'

—

After moisturizing your body and putting on some pajamas, you climbed into bed and pulled out the book that you'd been reading. Leaving your phone discarded somewhere in the covers.

It was starting to get to one of the more interesting parts when a chorus of loud, booming knocks came on your front door.

"Who in the fuck?" You threw the covers back furiously and slipped your fluffy slippers on.

You walked out of your room and down the hallway, the beating at the door only growing more intense as you sucked your teeth.

"I'm coming, dammit!"

Pulling the door open without checking the peephole first would be your first mistake of the night.

When the messy mop of dark locks, green/yellow hero uniform, and chiseled pecs came into your view, you immediately tried to slam the door shut. Yo wasn't having any of that.

He grabbed the edge of the door, wedging half of his body inside of your apartment before he pushed it forward with force, making it slam and bounce off of the wall.

Once his boots made contact with the carpeted floor of your apartment, you took multiple steps back, putting about two feet of distance between the two of you.

"What's wrong, baby? You don't look too happy to see me."

Scoffing harshly, you bit your bottom lip between your teeth as you glared up at him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Beating on my goddamn door like you've lost your mind. Thought you were caught up in something? That just goes to show that all you do is fucking lie. You bitch."

Yo just looked at you with his face scrunched up. He was clearly irritated with your antics, especially the name-calling. Kicking off his boots, he began to walk towards you.

"Stop fucking being difficult, Y/N. You know, baby, if you missed me and wanted some dick, all you had to do was ask nicely."

He said in that irritating, condescending tone that he always uses when talking to those that he feels are beneath him. You being one of those. Even though you're a pro-hero just like he is.

Not believing what you were hearing, your mouth dropped open. You could feel the blood begin to rise in your ears, loud and whooshing against your skull.

A dry chuckle then left your lips.

"You think…that all of this is because I want some dick? Trust me, sweetie, if I just wanted some dick I could go get it from any one of your co-workers. A lot of them have been giving me the eye, you know. Especially since you're never around and I just changed up my hero uniform, so the skirt is short-"

Yo cut you off by grabbing you by the biceps and yanking you towards him, making you stumble and throw your arms out to try to balance yourself before he then slammed you up against the wall.

"Don't fucking play with me, Y/N. If you know what's good for you, you'll think twice about trying to entertain one of those bastards. Especially-"

"Especially who? Bakugou? Oh, he'd be my first choice if I were to step out on you." You smirked up at him.

He snarled. Your smirk widened as you could physically hear him grinding his teeth.

Yo was quiet for a moment, just glaring at you as you stared right back at him with a bored look on your face. You even went as far as to yawn.

"Yeah, it's not so fun when the rabbit has the gun, huh?"

He didn't answer, but instead pulled you off of the wall and hoisted you up over his shoulder. A big hand came up and smacked forcefully against your ass.

"That's alright. I know how to fix you." He chortled darkly, moving away to begin walking down the hallway to your bedroom.

"I don't want your community ass dick! Put me down, Yo!"

He just ignored you and kicked open the door to the room.

"Sure you don't. You always do this shit to get my attention, Y/N. Catch an attitude, start a stupid ass argument, and then I fuck it out of you. Same shit, different goddamn day, baby."

Yo said after tossing you onto the bed, making your forgotten phone flop onto the floor. He gave it a puzzled look.

"Oh, so that's why you seemed so surprised to see me. You didn't read my text."

He chuckled, reaching to grab your hip to flip you over onto your stomach as if you were a pancake.

Rough hands began to caress your feet, ankles, and legs, all the way up to your inner thighs and bottom of your ass cheeks, just under the hem of your nightdress.

"No panties? Yeah, you were definitely planning on getting dicked down tonight, you needy little slut."

SMACK

Your back arched off of the bed at the painful stinging of Yo's slaps. His hands felt heavy as lead as they connected with your soft flesh.

SMACK

"Where are you going? Thought you liked when I spank you, huh?"

Yo wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you back when you tried crawling up the bed to escape him.

"Stop it, Yo…hurts…" You whined.

"It hurts, Yo, please stop." He mocked. "Stop being a fucking brat, then."

He grabbed one of your ass cheeks and squeezed hard, making you moan out involuntarily.

"Moaning like this but you don't want my dick? I bet you're dripping fucking wet for me right now, Y/N. Dare me to check?"

You didn't respond, which prompted Yo to do as he suggested and slip two fingers underneath you between your ass cheeks to get to your slick folds.

"Damn baby, all this for me, yeah? Only me."

He growled. With his large hand, he covered your entire bare pussy and activated his Quirk.

A harsh shiver wracked through your entire body, another soft moan leaving your lips. Yo only pressed harder, moving his fingertips to graze over your clit repeatedly.

"Y-Yo…please, daddy…" You whined, making him smirk down at you. He increased the vibration of his fingers along with rubbing your clit from side to side.

"Say you're sorry for bringing up Bakugou and I might let you feel this fat dick next..." Yo rested his upper body against your back and snaked his free arm under you to hold you up off the bed just a bit.

"No..I'm…n-not sorry. I meant it. Oh fuck!"

Yo grimaced before grabbing you and flipping you back over onto your back.

"What did you say?"

Your e/c eyes were wet with unshed tears as you frowned up at his handsome face. You didn't falter.

"You heard me."

"I thought I told you that if you know what's good for you, you won't even think about that motherfucker!" He seethed.

"I obviously don't know what's good for me if I'm still fucking around with you!"

Before you knew what was happening, Yo had pinned you to the bed by your throat. Moving between your legs, he used his knees to spread them.

"Yo, stop!"

"Shut up, bitch. You'll learn to stop pissing me off one day."

His belt hit the bed as he undid it, his black pants and underwear soon following it. You tried to pull your legs up, but he surged forward, pushing his hard dick inside you with one thrust.

Head falling back against the soft mattress, you couldn't help but keen as Yo began a rough, fast pace. He gripped your calf to pull you closer and stretch you open wider for him.

"Yes, Yo…right there! I'm going to cum!"

Yo grunted in response, trying to hold back from cumming himself.

"Yeah, baby? My fingers got you all ready to cum on my dick? Let it go then, oh shit."

He sped up even more, making your free breasts bounce outside of your nightgown and the headboard hit the wall. It already had a small dent in it from your previous heated romps, but neither of you seemed to care very much.

It could be painted over once you moved out.

"Oh God, I…!"

Your release splashed against Yo's pelvis and drenched the sheets beneath you.

"Ah, fuck. Yeah, made that little pussy squirt, huh? Stay still for me, baby. I'm about to nut."

Your eyes widened. "Yo, no. You're not wearing a condom and I haven't replaced my NuvaRing yet!"

It had been out for five days now while you waited on your doctor to send in a new prescription.

That didn't stop him. Either he was too deep into his impending orgasm to hear you, or he was flat out ignoring you.

"Yo!"

"SHIT! AGHH!"

Blind fury clouded your vision while Yo's was clouded for a completely different reason altogether.

"Damn…" He breathed out, making sure to stay deep inside you until he was finished cumming.

Once you got your bearings, you sat up abruptly, making Yo stumble back onto his elbows. He sucked his teeth once he saw your angered face.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? You don't want to have my baby?"

"Yo, we're both in our early 20's at the height of our hero careers. We're nowhere near ready for a damn baby!"

The raven-haired man was about to respond until a soft, vibrating sound silenced the both of you.

You slowly swung your legs over the side of the bed, searching for the source of the noise.

Bending down, you surveyed the floor briefly. Your forgotten cell phone lay halfway underneath the bed.

It's not your phone going off.

Yo could've been mistaken for a ghost; you watched his face blanch white while he patted the pockets of his discarded pants searching for the missing device.

A race against time, but you spotted it first.

With the rectangular device being tangled in your covers, Yo almost knocked you off the bed trying to get to it, but you were way faster than him. It was already in your hand.

tatas💕: my appointment is at 3pm tomorrow. are you going to be able to make it?

You scrunched your nose and swatted Yo's hand away while reading the text.

"Appointment? What is this about, and why does Tatami need you there?"

Cold e/c eyes turned to stone while you watched Yo fidget nervously. This is one of the only times you've seen him like this; the other when he asked you out for the first time.

"Y/N…do you love me?"

"What kind of question is that, Yo? If I didn't, would I still be with you?"

"Unconditionally?"

Your nose scrunched. Something isn't right…

You knew all about Tatami. Yo's ex-girlfriend from high school. He told you that he broke it off during their third year because she was becoming too clingy. You'd even met her once, when you had a joint mission with her agency.

"Yes…"

"Say you'll never leave me?"

Oh hell no. He was asking too many questions now.

"What did you do, Yo? Huh?!"

He just hung his head. His phone vibrated again in your hand.

----

Everything that I've been doing is all bad

I've got a chick on the side

With the crib and the ride

I've been telling you so many lies

Aint none good, it's all bad

And I just wanna confess, it's been going on so long

Girl I been doing you so wrong and I want you to know that

----

"Everytime you called my phone, I wasn't at the agency working overtime…I..I was with Tatami."

A long, loud sigh left your lips. Your free hand came up, knuckles resting against your forehead.

I don't want to look, but I know I have to…

"Y/N.." Yo warned.

new message

"Y/N, please, baby…"

tatas💕: i know the doctor said that we won't know the sex until about 20 weeks, but i can't help being so excited! we're possibly going to have a little yo running around soon! 👶🏻

Your grip on the phone tightened.

----

If I could turn back the hands of time

And start all over I would

Instead of everything being all bad, baby

Everything'll be all good

I know today is the day that I end all the lying and the playing and the bullshit, girl

----

"Y/N, I'm sorr-"

WHAM!

Your knuckles that you'd been resting against your forehead went across Yo's face at the speed of light. You punched him hard as hell in his face, making him tumble over and off the foot of the bed. The sight would've been hilarious if you weren't so fucking pissed.

"I knew I was right…." You chuckled. "I fucking knew it. You knew that she was pregnant, too. You've known for months."

Yo looked up at you with big, watery eyes full of regret. Almost like he was a different person entirely.

One hand clutched his throbbing cheek. You'd hit him so hard that his lower lip busted. His perfect face would soon be discolored black and blue, across his forehead, nose (that was also bleeding now), and right eye.

"I'm sorry! Baby, I'm sorry!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YO! YOU'RE ONLY SORRY BECAUSE YOU GOT FUCKING CAUGHT!" You raged. You lunged off the bed at him and started hitting him everywhere, as hard as you could. You even grabbed two handfuls of his black hair and yanked his head around.

Yo finally grabbed your arms and pinned them against your chest. You'd grown exhausted, so you just let yourself fall against his naked chest.

A bitter chuckle, then the tears, hot and angry. You couldn't hold them any longer as you looked up at Yo, staring at his swollen, beaten face.

"You're so fucking ugly when you cry. What the fuck are you crying for, huh? I'm the one that got cheated on. Lied to, played with, manipulated."

"Not only did you fucking lie to me and cheat on me, but you fucked around and got the bitch pregnant, too. This has got to be a joke."

Yo slowly crawled up from the floor with you in his arms, blood dripping down his nose and lip, staining the carpet, then the bedsheets while you covered your face with your hands and sobbed.

He cradled you gently and laid his head against yours, lips kissing at the temples.

"Baby, please…we can work this out. I don't love her. I love you, but I…I still want to be there for the baby…"

Your brokenhearted wails only increased in volume.

"Don't cry, baby. I promise I'll be here for you and our baby, too."

—-

Three Months Later

Yo made good on his word to be there for you.

Shortly after his "confession", you found out that you were pregnant as well.

Tatami is currently six months along, while you're only three.

Turns out that all of this was a part of Yo's twisted plan.

Instead of your late birth control being due to your doctor's or the pharmacy's incompetence, it was Yo who called the doctor's office pretending to be your husband and had them cancel your refill request.

Yo then demanded suggested that you take time off from hero work while you were carrying his child, which you slightly agreed with, but still did so with reluctance.

You don't know how he did it, but you guessed being one of the top 20 heroes carried with it a lot of weight for him to be able to take off enough to make it to all of yours and Tatami's appointments.

He even moved you out of your apartment and into his. Into your own room.

The reason that you had your own room was because Tatami ended up losing her apartment due to being out of work, so Yo moved her in as well.

With the way that the living arrangements had been set up, you and Tatami might as well have been sister wives.

To attempt to keep things "fair" between the both of you, Yo would designate certain nights where either of you would get to sleep in the room with him. So neither of you would feel neglected by him.

His heart was in the right place, wasn't it?

Even when you could clearly hear the whispered moans and soft creaking of the bed from Yo's room on Tatami's nights.

No matter how you tried to make yourself not hear it.

Yo didn't want you stressing out, he claimed, so he bought you many expensive gifts and gadgets to help you get a good night's rest.

None of them worked.

Not when the walls in that apartment were paper thin.

Many nights you cried and raged to yourself.

Obviously all of that stress wasn't healthy for the baby.

Which leads you to today.

A pair of dark sunglasses hiding your eyes along with a long trench coat and hat to conceal the rest of your persona.

They were loud and jarring as you walked in, but your world had gone numb three months ago. Now you were trapped inside your own world as you stepped up three flat steps into a white, brick building.

A ghost clutching a brown clipboard only made the atmosphere even gloomier before whisking you away from the judgemental eyes and into a plainly decorated room with blue walls.

She read over the papers first then handed the clipboard to you, one more questioning look being shot your way.

You just gave a simple nod.

—-

"You have reached the voicemail box of L/n, Y/n. I can't come to the phone right now, but leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can!"

BEEP.

Yo sighed heavily and put his head in his hands before standing up to walk out of your completely barren bedroom.

Before he closed the door, he whispered softly,

"Why, Y/n?"

Your location on his phone showed him exactly where you were.

—-

Gotta make that move

Find somebody who

Appreciates all the love I give

Boy, I gotta

Gotta do what's best for me

Baby and that means I gotta shake you off

—--

a/n: i think this piece was a pretty strong start to the series! i'm really proud of it! stay tuned, there's plenty more bullshit to come!

*remember, if you get angry enough at your partner that you feel like wanting to put your hands on them, just walk away!

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