#i think this is what people mean when they say god works in mysterious ways

[7-crows-in-a-trench-coat]

i know there’s a lot of drama (and memes) about ned fulner circulating around the internet. and he cheated on his wife and that’s awful but now that he’s no longer with the group the Try Guys are finally also the Tri Guys and idk i just think that means maybe there is a god

[writingwithcolor]

How can non-Jewish writers include Jewish characters in supernatural stories without erasing their religion in the process?

Anonymous asked:

I have a short story planned revolving around the supernatural with a Jewish character named Danielle (who uses they/them pronouns). Danielle will be one of a trio who will be solving the mystery of two brides' deaths on the day of their wedding. My concern with this is the possibility of accidentally invalidating Danielle's religion by focusing on a secular view of the afterlife. At the same time, I don't want to assume that Jewish people can't exist in paranormal stories, nor do I want to use cultural elements that don't belong to me. So, how do I make sure that Danielle is included in the plot without erasing their Jewishness?

Okay so to start with I think we need to ask a question about the premise: what is a secular afterlife? I’m not asking this to nitpick or be petty, but to offer you expanded ways of thinking through this issue and maybe others as well.

A Secular Afterlife

What is a secular afterlife? To begin with, I get what you mean. The idea of an afterlife we see in pop culture entities like ghost media owes more to a mixture of 19th-century spiritualist tropes drawn from titillating gothic novels than to anything preached from the pulpit of an organized house of worship. Yet those tropes--the ominous knocking noises from beyond, the spectral presences on daguerrotype prints, the sudden chill and the eerie glow, all of those rely on the idea of there being something beyond this life, some continuation of the spirit when the body has ceased to breathe. For that, you need to discount the ideas that the consciousness has moved on to another physical body and is currently living elsewhere, and that it was never separate from the body and has now ceased to exist. Can we say that this is secular?

More so: Gothic literature, as the name suggests, draws heavily on Catholic imagery, even when it avoids explicit references to Catholicism. Aside from the architectural imagery, Catholic religious symbols permeate the genre, as well as the larger horror and supernatural media genres that grew from it: Dracula flinches from a crucifix, priests expel demons from human bodies, Marley’s Ghost haunts Ebenezer Scrooge in chains. The concepts of heaven and hell, and nonhuman beings who dwell in those places, are critical to making the narratives work. 

The basis also draws from a biblical story, that of the Witch of Endor. The main tropes of Victorian spiritualism are present: Saul never sees the ghost of Samuel, only the Witch of Endor is able to see “A divine being rising” from wherever he rises from, and her vague description, “I see an old man rising, wearing a robe,” evokes the cold readings of charlatan mediums into the present (Indeed, some rabbinic sources commenting on this assert that this is exactly what was going on).

While neither of these views of its origin define the genre as the sole property of Catholicism--or of Judaism for that matter--it would be hard exactly to categorize them as secular.

A Jewish Perspective on ghosts

However, it’s not the case that ghost media is incompatible with Jewishness, assuming that it doesn’t commit to a view of heaven and hell duality that specifically embraces a Christian spiritual framework. 

Jewish theology is noncommittal on the subject of the afterlife. The idea of a division between body and soul in the first place is found in ancient Egypt, for instance, earlier than the earliest Jewish texts. In Jewish text it’s present in narratives like the creation story, in which God crafts a human body out of earth and then breathes life into it once it’s complete. It also appears in our liturgy: the blessings prescribed to be recited at the beginning of the day juxtapose Elohai Neshama, a blessing for the soul, with Asher Yatzar, expressing gratitude for the body, recited by many after successfully using the bathroom. 

Yet it’s not clear that this life-force is something separate than the body that lives beyond it, until the apparition of the Witch of Endor. The words we use to describe it, whatever it is, evoke the process of breathing rather than that of eternal life: either ruach (spirit, or wind) or neshama (soul, or breath): neither is a commitment to the idea that it does--or that it doesn’t--go somewhere else when the body returns to the earth. 

Jewish folklore, however, leans into the idea of ghosts and other spiritual beings inhabiting the earthly plane (and others). Perhaps most famous is the 1937 movie The Dybbuk, in which a young scholar engaging in kabbalistic practices calls upon dark forces to unite him and his fated love, only to find himself possessing her body as a dybbuk. It appears that he is about to be successfully exorcized, but ultimately when his soul leaves her body, hers does as well. 

More relevantly to your story, a Jewish folktale inspired the movie The Corpse Bride. In the folktale version, a newly-engaged man jokingly recites the legal formula he will soon recite at his wedding, and places his ring on the finger of a nearby corpse--a reference to a time when antisemitic violence is said to have gotten worse not only at Jewish and Christian holidays as it does still to this day, but around Jewish weddings as well. The murdered bride stands up, a corpse reanimated complete with consciousness, and demands that the bridegroom honor his legal obligation. 

In the movie, the bride gives up her demand willingly: her claim on him is emotional rather than legal, and she finally accepts that he has an emotional connection with another person, that he doesn’t love her. In the folk tale, the dead woman takes him to court to decide whether their marriage is legal, since he spoke the legal words to her in front of witnesses as is required, and the court rules that the dead do not have the right to make legal demands on the living. In this version, the moral of the story is that a legal formula is an obligation; that when he jokingly bound himself to the corpse, he not only disrespected the dead but also the legal framework that structures society, and by so doing risked being obligated to keep his side of a contract he never intended to enact. 

This speaks to the ways that a Jewish outlook can differ from a Christian-influenced “secular” one. Christian-influenced cultural ideas can often focus around feeling the right thing, while Jewish stories will often center on doing the right thing. Does the Corpse Bride leave because she realizes she is not the one he loves? Because she--or he--learned a valuable lesson? Or because she loses her court case? It’s not that the boy’s emotions are irrelevant to the story--the tension, the suspense, the horror of the story takes place primarily within the boy’s emotional landscape--but emotions on their own are not a solution. The question “should he marry her” can be answered emotionally, but “has he married her” can only be answered by a legal expert, and once it has been the deceased bride may not have changed her emotional attachment to him, but she no longer has legal standing to pursue her claim. 

Centering legal rectitude over emotional catharsis isn’t a requirement for having Jewish characters in your story, but it’s worth thinking about what is and isn’t universal, what is and isn’t actually all that secular. 

Meanwhile, back at the topic:

Where does any of this place Danielle?

Well, unless you’re positing a universe in which Christian or other deities or cosmologies are confirmed to exist (See Jewish characters in a universe with author-created fictional pantheons for more on that topic), there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be perfectly fine interacting with whatever the setting you’re building throws at them. 

My wishlist for this character and setting runs more to the general things to consider when writing fantasy settings with Jewish characters: 

Don’t confirm or imply that Jesus is a divine being. That means no supernatural items like splinters of the cross, grails, nails, veils, etc. There’s nothing particularly powerful or empowering about this one guy who lived and died like so many others.

Don’t show God’s body and especially not God’s face, or confirm that any other gods or deities exist, whether that’s Jesus, Aphrodite, or Anubis, or someone you made up for the context. 

Don’t put Danielle in a position where they’re going to play into an antisemitic trope like child murder, blood drinking, world domination, or financial greed. If you have to, name it and let Danielle express discomfort with or distaste for those actions both because Jewish values explicitly oppose all of those things but also because Danielle as a Jewish character would be painfully aware of these stereotypes as present and historical excuses for antisemitic violence. 

Do consider what Danielle���s personal practice might look like. What does Danielle do on Shabbat? What do they eat or refrain from eating? What are their memories of Jewish holidays and how is their current holiday observance different than their childhood? I know I say “Jewishness is diverse” on every ask, but it is, and these questions--which also underscore how very much Judaism is rooted in one’s actions during this life--will help you develop how Judaism actually functions to inform Danielle’s character, even if you don’t spell out the answers to each of these questions in text. 

Do let Danielle find joy, comfort, and identity in their Jewishness not just in contrast with Christianity but simply because it’s part of the wholeness of their character. I know the primary representation of Jewishness is a snappy one-liner in a Christmas episode followed by the Jewish character joining in the Christmas spirit, blue edition, but make room for Jewishness to inform how Danielle approaches the events of your story, or why they decide to get or stay involved.  

-Meir

Hi it’s Shira with some Jewish ghost story recs written from inside–

When The Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb (deliriously good queer YA Jewish paranormal, mainstream enough that it’s got a good chance of being at your local library and won all kinds of awards)

The Dyke and the Dybbuk by Ellen Galford (sorry for the slur, warning for a paragraph of biphobia in the book but it’s an older book. I read this right before my divorce so my memories are super fuzzy but it’s about this modern day lesbian who gets possessed by the ghost of a different lesbian from hundreds of years earlier in Jewish history.) Nine of Swords Reversed by Xan West z’L of blessed memory - another queer Jewish paranormal.

The general plot is that two partners are struggling with how to be honest with each other about the effect disability is having on them. It’s got a very warm and fuzzy cozy vibe but kink culture is central to the worldbuilding so if that isn’t your vibe I didn’t want you to go in unaware.

The Dybbuk in Love by Sonya Taaffe. I don’t remember the details but I remember loving it, it’s m/f and romance between possessor and possessed.

I wrote a really short one called A Man of Taste where a gentile vampire woman and a Jewish ghost/dybbuk get together.

~S

[byfulcrums]

been rewatching rtte

toothless is called T multiple times, but the letter T doesn't exist in the alphabet of this world

i think hiccup was also called H???

hiccup went to the wedding of the man who tried to kill him and his family multiple times. no wonder he thought he could change drago's mind

snotlout is canonically a theater kid

"you're so small and cuddly" "please never say that again"

the twins are really smart, but they're also just stupid

hiccup straight up disappears when he's working on something

heather had a super noticeable crush on astrid

fishlegs got a love interest!! a plus size main character actually has a cool, badass love interest!

it was super hetnormative but it was cute

there was an island full of flying women who were implied to regularly commit cannibalism

hiccup taught all the riders how to fly with toothless, that's so sweet

everyone is a flat earther except for the twins

hiccup almost directly killed a lot of people

and killed a LOT more when destroying their ships

“scalding– cal..ding--" "toothle, plama bla!" was pretty much the funniest part of the entire series

dagur was bullied as a kid by a guy 8 years older than him who literally tattooed an imagine of him beating up little dagur in his arm??? What was that all about

actually we need to talk about how messed up everything about dagur is and about how the things that could've/did happen(ed) to him may be the reasons why he's Like That

just why was he imprisoned by the outcasts??? he didn't do anything to them directly

oof my brain is spiraling. "he loved you" "ig now we'll never know" what do you mean he didn't know if his dad loved him

there's a technically musical episode

tuffnut became hiccup's defense attorney and immediately got him the death sentence

hiccup regularly jumps off cliffs

he also jumped off a boat, with his arms tied and without toothless. just where did he think he was going

snotlout's annoying attitude is actually because spitelout pressures him too much and he feels like he has to be perfect for his dad :((

THE 'HICCUP'S EVIL MIRROR' VILLAIN THEME DONE RIGHT YESS!!!

viggo is the best httyd villain change my mind (you can't, swords at sundown, you may bring backup but i will win on my own)

skrill comeback skrill comeback SKRILL COMEBACK!!!!

"COMEEE TO DADDY"

what is a boar pit???

oh my god i had missed this series so much. it has no right to be this funny

this was my childhood. it has forever shaped the way i am

berserker heather the unhinged >>>

actually good disability rep! yay

hiccup complains about his peg leg pinching him

he straight up cannot walk without it and it is shown many times

"well, there are the benefits of a metal leg" after it got caught in a bear trap

funny moments, like snotlout trying to steal it to use it as a weapon

the jokes!! toothless laughing at the jokes!!! hiccup being so fucking done with the twins, who are always making the jokes!

there's an episode where everyone is so sleep deprived they actually start spiraling

astrid becomes a happy go lucky girl, hugs snotlout and tells him he's handsome

the fucking mood swings snotlout got were insane

the twins were straight up just hallucinating

"i sent them to wash their dragons, how could they mess that up?" cut to heather falling on her face with a bucket full of water in her hands

fishlegs becomes so paranoid, he's yelling at everyone all the time

"don't you know the trapper's trap can trap the trapper?? ...oh gods, i must be losing it, i'm quoting dagur"

YOOOO VALKA!!!! it's so nice to see her

hiccup tried to murder dagur to stop him from getting to toothless, which is scary bc it shows just how far he's willing to go for his bff, but also funny because hiccup. that was not going to work

oh the hiccstrid slowburn, how i have missed you

the twins's made up language

there was a beach episode turned murder mystery and a musical episode held at gun point

hiccup has a whole little speech that he periodically gives astrid to remind her that the twins serve a purpose

[headspace-hotel]

i'm...thinking about writing a book?

I mean. I feel really silly at the thought because i'm not like a scientist or anything, i'm barely at the beginning of my knowledge journey, but...being a writer was what I always wanted to do. It's what I've been doing ever since I could remember. And I'm constantly, constantly just so full of things that I want to tell the whole world. I will have a realization or idea and think, oh my god. Everyone needs to know this. But I can't tell everyone. I'm not good at talking.

I'm good at writing. But I will sit down to write a post on my silly little blog and get so overwhelmed by the SCALE of everything I want to say.

I think I've already started to write a book. I think the space for these ideas to fill is already the size of a book and it will never have any smaller of a size, and no one else will come along to write the book, and no one else CAN write the book, and IT HAS TO BE WRITTEN.

I want to write about the ways of the plants, of course. I want to teach how to transplant and how to gather seeds and the properties of keystone species...but more importantly, I want to write about how to learn the ways of the plants. I want to promote the habit of insatiable curiosity and intense observation. I want to show everyone that everything everywhere is infinitely interesting and mysterious, and if you pay attention to the plants, they will teach you.

I want to write about Symbiosis. I want to write about how we are connected to every other thing, how we have our own ecological niche as Caretakers, and our own special adaptations of curiosity and love. I want to write about how the ecosystem needs us to participate in it, not to cut ourselves off from it, and how our powerful influence on ecosystems can be for good or for bad. We are not a disease. We are a Keystone Species.

I want to discourage this Euro-centric idea that sees humans as separate, and recommend more reading from indigenous points of view that understands ecosystems better and sees humans as participants in nature, engaging in a reciprocal symbiotic relationship. I want to speak against all this talk about removing humans from half of the Earth or reducing the human population, and show other people that despair and fear make you paralyzed and powerless, but hope is powerful.

The most important and powerful thing you can do for your ecosystem is to love it. It is necessary to have hope for the future—to learn to imagine a future of restoration and renewal, and to build community with other people working toward that future.

If we don't imagine a future for our ecosystems, imagine them boldly and audaciously in ways that feel crazy and impossible, those futures will not happen. But just the act of saying, "This WILL happen. We WILL be okay." gives you the strength and energy to fight and it gives you the creativity to come up with solutions you never could have thought of before.

And I feel I have to explain, how did I end up listening to plants? And how did the teachings become so important that I had to write about them? There's this black, swallowing abyss underpinning all of who I am, some intimation of a reality so terrible the human spirit breaks beneath it. I had a mental health crisis back in 2021 where I was pulled deep into that abyss, and when I started rescuing little plants and caring for them, I was basically re-learning how to be human.

I feel like I was seeking answers to "How am I supposed to live in this world?" in the natural world because the human world of poetry and books and articles and think-pieces had utterly failed me in that regard. I had taken multiple poetry classes where I had read all the best contemporary poems, and all the poets just wrote flat, plodding, blunt descriptions of their trauma and despair. Nothing is wrong with these topics, but the worst part was how these authors didn't even take themselves seriously; they had to be detached and ironic about their own pain, like a snarky dystopian novel hero who jokes casually about the horrific reality they live in so the reader knows that this reality is normal and unremarkable to them—and even more importantly, that the hero is ironic and cool instead of responding in a vulnerable, human way.

And speaking of dystopian novels...there were a lot of those! It was like all the visions of the future I had read were dystopian. Even I had been writing a dystopian novel. But I realized that I wasn't wise enough to tell that story yet. I didn't know why at first. But then, as I was reading everything people were writing about climate change, I began to realize.

I saw a lot of patterns between the way people wrote about climate change and the tendencies of self-harm and self-defeat that gnawed inside me. Suicide was something that I had never struggled against, but I understood that suicide was only the most striking manifestation of a self-annihilating way. Sometimes you feel like by hurting yourself, you are being transgressive, exercising autonomy against an absolute, crushing reality. It doesn't have to be physical hurt; it can just be deciding no one will like you and denying yourself love, or thinking "Well, there's no use hoping for anything good to happen."

This is how people talk about climate change. They fantasize about extreme, horrific scenarios and talk as if the Earth is already dead and destroyed, and they talk about humans hatefully and as if they were a disease, and then congratulate themselves for seeing how bad it REALLY is instead of being in denial. It is easy for people to get attached to this and even get mad when someone suggests there might be hope, simply because self-harm can be very psychologically reinforcing.

It is common to call these responses "climate grief." But as I came into this very simple and quiet yet profound encounter with Nature, she had an answer to this philosophy that was perfectly gentle and placid and yet caustic enough to strip paint:

"HOW CAN YOU WISH FOR THE STRENGTH TO GRIEVE THE EARTH, WHEN YOU WERE NEVER STRONG ENOUGH TO LOVE IT?"

I realized, with a breaking heart, that I had always hated and resented my back yard and my home town, because it was an ugly place that seemed to me "Already destroyed," and my soul ached for woods and wilderness.

It had taken me 20 years to fully admit my love of nature, because I felt like there was no point in acting upon it—everything would get destroyed anyway.

I had not been brave enough to love the woods across the road, the creeks and the hills, because they were so fragile in a world that didn't respect them, they could be destroyed by some housing development at any time. So I just accepted that it was already a lost cause.

But it was time to be brave enough—not to accept despair, but to choose hope.

To grow up, first we had to become strong and get rid of silly beliefs like hope and fairness and love. But now, we have to become even stronger and start believing in those things again.

[imfinereallyy]

Bedside Manner

for @acasualcrossfade request for "the infection has spread"

"Some birdie told me that you have been causing a fuss, Wayne, is that true?"

Wayne huffs from his hospital bed, glasses sliding down his nose. He places the newspaper he was reading on the table beside him. "You tell that Robbie of yours to stop exaggerating. It was only a small request."

Steve raises his eyebrows at his favorite patient (Dustin tells him he isn't supposed to have favorites, but he also used to cry anytime he picked up Max before him when they were younger, so what does he know) and gives him a knowing look. "Robin listens to no man, Wayne, you know this. You're better off sending that message through her wife. Besides, small? She was telling me you refused to have any other nurse help you because I wasn't here last night. Which surprised me since you are always pushing me on about taking a vacation. "

Wayne opens his mouth, but Steve presses on. "And the fact Robin was even in the room means they called a psych consult, so I can only imagine how bad it was."

Wayne grumbles like a little kid being scolded for getting his hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yea, well, it was a bad night, kid."

Steve feels his shoulders sag, he takes off his glasses and rubs a hand down his face before placing them back on. "Sorry, Wayne, I had a bad migraine last night. Nance and Robs wouldn't even let me pass the entrance. Bad news?"

"Kid, don't stress yourself out over me. I'm just your patient, and more so, I am just a cranky old man." Wayne patted Steve's knee as he sat down next to him.

"C'mon, Wayne. You're more than that. I'd like to think seeing you in and out of here the last year has made us friends. Although I gotta say, you're the only friend I have that I'll be glad if I don't get to see again, given the circumstances. So, what's the news?"

"The infection has spread."

Steve takes in a deep breath, he tries not to panic, but any infection in a hospital can be deadly, especially for a cancer patient like Wayne. "Incision site?"

Steve must not be as good at hiding his emotions as he used to be because Wayne jumps to ease his worry. "No, kid, don't worry. The surgery was a success. Just got that hospital fever, the good old bronchitis. But it just means I'm here longer than I have to. It also means my nephew is on edge, and I don't know if I can take a second longer of his hovering."

Steve laughed wetly, thankful for the topic change. "Ah yes, the mysterious nephew of yours that I've never met. The way you talk about him almost tempts me into switching to the day shift, sounds like he might be entertaining. But only almost."

"Always wondered why you were always working the nights, most of the others seem to switch. Not a big fan of the day?"

Steve shakes his head gently, "No, I like the quiet here at night. Like getting to know the patients without having to worry about fixing ten million things. Don't get me wrong, it has its downfalls. Like the doctors can be horrible at night, never tell Dr. Wheeler that or Robbie will kill me, and the food is awful. But there is something special about it here at night. So sorry, your ridiculous nephew isn't enough to tempt me."

Wayne smirked, "What if I told you he was a looker and single?"

Steve blushes slightly. He is used to patients trying to pawn him off to their relatives, it came with being a young male nurse, but typically it didn't phase him. But Steve has become close with Wayne, so hearing him suggest he get together with his nephew has him flustered. "I'm good, Wayne, thanks. Gave up on the dating scene a while ago. Not many people can keep up with a guy who works nights and suffers from severe head trauma."

"Shame, Eddie likes the nights too. I'd reckon yal would get along."

"I'm pretty sure we would need more than that, Wayne."

Wayne smiles fondly at Steve. "You don't need a whole lot to build a connection, son. Me and Linda, god rest her soul, only started dating for our mutual love of mugs. And we may not have had long together, but our love was strong. Besides, there is more yal would have in common than just the night shift."

Steve huffs a laugh, "Oh yea, like what?" The least he can do is humor the man.

"Well, you both care about me deeply."

Steve blushes again, "C'mon, Wayne. I'm your nurse. I'm kinda paid to care."

Wayne won't hear any of it, "No, son, it's more than that. You take your break in here every night. You make sure to record the game at home for me because they only have the news here. And last night, you tried to come in with a migraine, even though we both know I am the only patient you can stand right now."

Steve doesn't know what to say back. Wayne is right, of course. Steve has been spending all of his time with the man, giving him extra care. Steve isn't bad with his other patients, he goes above and beyond most of his coworkers, but there is something special about Wayne.

"You got nothing, kid, you know I'm right. Remind me a lot of my nephew. Before visiting hours ended is when I got the news of having to stay longer. Kid almost threw a fit when they kicked him out. Swore he was gonna break in to stay the night with me. I told him not to worry since you would be there, I brag about you too, ya know. When he found out today you weren't here, that boy threw a fit again. Swear he gets his tantrums from his father. Said he was gonna sneak back in tonight. Make sure I had company. That 'the man' couldn't stop him. That if he ran into you, he was gonna have a word with you."

Steve can't help the snort that shakes his body, "I'd like to see him get passed Hop first."

Wayne starts to chuckle, too, "Eds may have had his fair share of escaping the law, but no man moves as fast as Jim in a security uniform."

Steve is fully laughing now, "I know, right? It's like those pants make him aerodynamic or something. No way your nephew is getting by."

It is almost as if Steve's words summon what happens next. There in the doorway is the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, even though he is bent over and out of breath.

"Eds?" Wayne questions, clearly surprised. Steve has to mask his face and quickly before Wayne catches him ogling his nephew. Steve is finding it difficult, though. The man, Eddie, despite his out-of-breath appearance, is stunning. His long curly hair is thrown up in a bun, showing off the piercings up his ears. His clothes are simple but suiting, ripped jeans and a black band tee. Tattoos cover his entire body, and Steve wants to ask about every single one of them.

The most surprising thing about him isn't that he got by Hop (although he has questions for that later), no the most surprising thing to Steve is that Wayne somehow knew his exact type, which most people assume wrong in that department.

Eddie awakens an old craving inside Steve that he thought he had buried long ago.

"Wayne, you would not believe what I just went to get up here. The story I have for you, oh boy. You're gonna love it. Who knew security guards could move that fast. Anyway, I hope that nurse boy of yours is here tonight because I am ready to—" Eddie stops mid-rant when his eyes land on Steve, a lovely blush blossoming across his pale cheeks.

"I believe what you are trying to say is, what was it, Wayne? Oh yea, 'have a word with me,'" Steve laughs softly.

Eddie sputters, "Wayne!?!" His blushing becomes deeper as the seconds pass by.

Wayne just chuckles as Steve stands. "Don't be mad at your Uncle, I think he was just trying to make me feel better. I am sorry I wasn't here last night for the news. Got my head knocked around too much as a kid—" Steve taps his head with his knuckles, "—so I suffer from migraines sometimes. I really did try to come in, but well—you met Jim. He's pretty fast." Steve worries his lip. Eddie's eyes follow.

"Well, I can't be too mad now, can I?" Eddie swallows nervously before a smirk spreads across his face, switching from shy to confident in two seconds flat. Steve shouldn't be turned on by that. "The pretty face helps too. I'm pretty sure you could convince me to give you my kidney right about now. I'm Eddie, which I know you know by now, and you are...?"

Steve puts his hand out for a shake, "Nurse Harrington. But most people call me Steve."

Eddie grabs his hand gently and brings the back of it to his lips. "Stevie, a pleasure, really." A light kiss is placed on Steve's knuckles. Stevie, he thinks. That's a new one. And he isn't mad about it, at all. In fact, the butterflies in his stomach want him to get Eddie to say it again.

Steve catches Wayne's smug face in the corner of his eye as Steve begins to blush again.

"I'm just gonna—I'll be right back." Steve stutters.

"Leaving so soon?" Eddie says disappointed.

Steve has the sudden urge to fix the frown on his face. "No, no! Just, uh, gonna call Jim and tell him not to send out a search party. That it's okay if you stay. I'll keep an eye on you."

Eddie's face breaks out into a brilliant smile, "Really, Stevie? You gonna keep me around?"

Steve's heart skips a beat, "If I can help it."

***

[sanguineterrain]

Hello madame terrain, I have been thinking about boxer!jason for some time now and I'm wondering if you have any thoughts about him? if not that's totally okay too ☺️ love all your writing!!!

lol hi, madame terrain is adorable 💕 also boxer jason is big brained!!! let's do it ;)

boxer!jason todd x gn!reader. reader is an apprentice to a ringside doctor (leslie thompkins). tw creepy OMC intimidates reader, jason protects/defends r, fluff, my attempt at boxing stuff.

****

Leslie said she'd be back in an hour.

You're currently at the thirty minute mark, hoping for a natural disaster, an angel, anything, because...

"Doc gives me stuff for my pain all the time," Keith says for the third time. "It's real simple."

Keith Dixon is one of the gym's regular fighters. You haven't seen enough matches to judge his fighting, but you can confidently say that his people skills are in the toilet.

He'd barged into the office ten minutes ago and had refused to leave even when you said Leslie was out.

You need to make a break for it.

"You have to wait for Dr. Thompkins," you say, lifting your chin. You won't give in and risk losing this job. No way in hell. "I can't administer medications. I'm not licensed."

Keith rolls his eyes. He's a hothead, new to Gotham. Likes to fight. Likes to fight mean.

"Look, you're new. I'm just giving you a heads-up on how things work around here," he says, backing you up further. You're nearly against the wall.

Where the hell is Leslie?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dixon, but I can't prescribe painkillers without her supervision."

"Uh-huh. Know what I think? I think you're just not cut out for the ring," Keith says, cornering you against the cabinet. "Cute thing like you shouldn't be hiding in an office. The Doc ought to know better..."

"Is there a problem?"

The new voice makes you flinch, just a little. Keith pulls back, posture easy but guarded. The second guy holds himself similarly. He's also well-built, clad in a gray tee and black sweatpants. His hands are wrapped.

"J-man," Keith says, daggers in his teeth. "Man, I thought you were benched for the week. You meet our new assistant? They're still getting used to how things run around here."

The mystery man looks at you. His eyes are a lovely teal.

"Is he botherin' you?" he asks.

"I—" You swallow. "I was just explaining to Keith that I can't administer medicine without Dr. Thompkins."

Keith huffs. "Jason, tell 'em how this works."

Jason faces Keith. They nearly match each other in height and bulk. You hope to God they don't decide to brawl here and now.

"I think you're the one who needs a reminder, Dixon," Jason says coolly. "Seems pretty straightforward to me. You need to wait for the Doc. So was there something else you needed?"

Keith's mouth presses into a line. You can tell he's got about a hundred ugly thoughts on his tongue right now.

"Nope," he grits out.

"Mm. Then step off."

Keith obeys. You slip out of the corner.

"I'll come back," he says.

"When the Doc's here," Jason adds. It doesn't sound like a suggestion. "If y'need a reminder of her schedule, I don't mind giving you one."

Keith looks at you. You hold his gaze, heart pounding.

"Of course," he says, all false charm, and pushes past Jason. "See ya in the ring, J.T."

You can't relax even after Keith leaves. Jason remains in the doorway. You close your eyes at the thought of dealing with another fighter. It's not bad with Leslie here, but this is your first time alone. It's already a disaster.

Obviously, none of the fighters respect you like they respect Leslie, even after three weeks of you working here. You don't even know all of the fighters.

"Hey." Jason doesn't move from his spot as he asks. "Y'okay?"

"Yes," you say, keeping your back straight. "I'm fine. Do you need medical attention?"

"I just came to get some more wraps. But I can get 'em at home."

His voice is softer now that Keith's gone.

"No need," you say. "That's what I'm here for."

You get a roll of tape from the drawer. It takes you three tries to pull the edge out. You drop it twice.

You feel Jason's eyes on you. You keep pulling the tape, but it won't comply.

"I got it," he says. "I can wrap myself. Toss it here."

You pause, tape half unfurled. "Dr. Thompkins told me to do all wraps myself."

"Leslie's cool. I won't tell her, anyway."

You shake your head. "Why don't you want me to wrap your hands?"

Jason glances to the side. He leans against the doorframe, purposely casual.

"'Cause Keith's a big guy. And I'm a big guy. And your hands are still shaking."

You tighten your grip on the tape.

Jason gestures to the office. "This is your space. I won't come in if you don't want me to. That's not how this works."

"It's... it's the job," you say, startled. "I don't—I've heard that Keith's rough with everybody."

"Yeah, well, he's an asshole. You shouldn't have to be rough back. Good fighters turn it off outside of the ring. I don't want to make you feel small. Alright?"

Tension bleeds out of your spine. You no longer feel like prey.

"It's easier if I wrap them for you," you say, and turn your back on him to fetch the antiseptic.

The tiles behind you creak as Jason hesitates for a moment. Then he walks in and sits in a chair, so you're higher than him.

He looks up at you. He really does have beautiful eyes. His eyelashes are dark and delicate. There's a faded bruise on his cheek.

He's boyishly handsome, with a mouth that looks like it smiles a lot.

"Do you also fight here?"

He nods. "Since I was eighteen. Been here a while."

You take one of his hands in both of yours. Jason's already thrown out the old tape. His knuckles are cut up. They're covered in scars. His fingernails are short and neat.

His hands are big, far bigger than yours. Veins feed into each other from the backs of his hands up his forearms.

You take out the antiseptic spray.

"Might be cold," you warn.

"'S okay."

You spray his skin. Jason doesn't even flinch.

"Your hands are really soft," he says.

"Oh, thank you. I use Isley's Salve. Works great."

Why did you share that?

Jason's mouth quirks. "Yeah? Might have to try that. My hands have seen better days."

"I have some in my bag." You let go of the half-done wrap and dig through your backpack. You pull out the small tube of salve and squeeze some onto his hands.

Jason is quiet and still as you rub in the lotion. He's pliant as you finish the wraps, letting you turn his hands over. You pull the wraps tight.

"All done," you say, face suddenly warm like you've been caught doing something you weren't supposed to.

He flexes his hands a few times. "Thanks. You're good. I can see why Leslie chose you as her apprentice."

You shrug. "Anybody can wrap hands."

"Dunno. I've seen some pretty shit wraps in my time."

"Oh. Well, um, I'm here most of the time, so feel free to come by and get your wraps changed."

He hums. "Sure. Don't worry 'bout Keith. I'll take care of it."

Your eyes widen. "I don't want more trouble..."

"You won't get trouble, I promise. We don't tolerate that here. 'Sides, he's overstayed his welcome."

You nod. "Okay. Thank you, Jason."

"No need for thank you's. Y'alright getting home?"

"Yes, I'm okay. Leslie's dropping me."

Jason nods, then picks himself up. He pauses like he wants to say something else, but he strides out of the room like he's in a rush instead.

"Well, um. G'night," he says over his shoulder. "Take care."

It's about fifteen more minutes until Leslie returns.

"Everything alright?" she asks in a tone that tells you she already knows the answer. "I ran into Jason on my way in. He said Keith Dixon gave you some trouble. I'm sorry I took so long. Are you alright?"

"You ran into—I thought Jason went home for the night."

Leslie looks like you've just told her the sky is red. "He wanted to make sure you were okay. So he waited till I came back. Are you okay? Did Keith hurt you?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm alright. Just shaken up. He's a bully. Wanted painkillers."

Leslie frowns. "He won't bother you again. I'll make sure you're not alone."

"It's okay. I mean, Jason was there."

She nods. "Mm. He's a good boy. I know his father."

"Yeah, he, uh, was nice. I wrapped his hands."

Leslie raises an eyebrow. Your shoulders rise.

"What?" you ask. "You said to practice my wraps."

She shrugs. "Nothing, nothing. I did tell you that. I'm glad you got some practice in."

You follow her to her car. Soon, Leslie pulls out of the lot.

"Leslie, do you mind if we stop at CVS?"

"Sure. What for?"

You feel for the little tube in your pocket.

"Need more Isley's Salve... I'm, uh, running low."

[mostlysignssomeportents]

My McLuhan lecture on enshittification

IT'S THE LAST DAY for the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

Last night, I gave the annual Marshall McLuhan lecture at the Transmediale festival in Berlin. The event was sold out and while there's a video that'll be posted soon, they couldn't get a streaming setup installed in the Canadian embassy, where the talk was held:

https://transmediale.de/en/2024/event/mcluhan-2024

The talk went of fabulously, and was followed by commentary from Frederike Kaltheuner (Human Rights Watch) and a discussion moderated by Helen Starr. While you'll have to wait a bit for the video, I thought that I'd post my talk notes from last night for the impatient among you.

I want to thank the festival and the embassy staff for their hard work on an excellent event. And now, on to the talk!

Last year, I coined the term 'enshittification,' to describe the way that platforms decay. That obscene little word did big numbers, it really hit the zeitgeist. I mean, the American Dialect Society made it their Word of the Year for 2023 (which, I suppose, means that now I'm definitely getting a poop emoji on my tombstone).

So what's enshittification and why did it catch fire? It's my theory explaining how the internet was colonized by platforms, and why all those platforms are degrading so quickly and thoroughly, and why it matters – and what we can do about it.

We're all living through the enshittocene, a great enshittening, in which the services that matter to us, that we rely on, are turning into giant piles of shit.

It's frustrating. It's demoralizing. It's even terrifying.

I think that the enshittification framework goes a long way to explaining it, moving us out of the mysterious realm of the 'great forces of history,' and into the material world of specific decisions made by named people – decisions we can reverse and people whose addresses and pitchfork sizes we can learn.

Enshittification names the problem and proposes a solution. It's not just a way to say 'things are getting worse' (though of course, it's fine with me if you want to use it that way. It's an English word. We don't have der Rat für Englisch Rechtschreibung. English is a free for all. Go nuts, meine Kerle).

But in case you want to use enshittification in a more precise, technical way, let's examine how enshittification works.

It's a three stage process: First, platforms are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die.

Let's do a case study. What could be better than Facebook?

Facebook is a company that was founded to nonconsensually rate the fuckability of Harvard undergrads, and it only got worse after that.

When Facebook started off, it was only open to US college and high-school kids with .edu and k-12.us addresses. But in 2006, it opened up to the general public. It told them: “Yes, I know you’re all using Myspace. But Myspace is owned by Rupert Murdoch, an evil, crapulent senescent Australian billionaire, who spies on you with every hour that God sends.

“Sign up with Facebook and we will never spy on you. Come and tell us who matters to you in this world, and we will compose a personal feed consisting solely of what those people post for consumption by those who choose to follow them.”

That was stage one. Facebook had a surplus — its investors’ cash — and it allocated that surplus to its end-users. Those end-users proceeded to lock themselves into FB. FB — like most tech businesses — has network effects on its side. A product or service enjoys network effects when it improves as more people sign up to use it. You joined FB because your friends were there, and then others signed up because you were there.

But FB didn’t just have high network effects, it had high switching costs. Switching costs are everything you have to give up when you leave a product or service. In Facebook’s case, it was all the friends there that you followed and who followed you. In theory, you could have all just left for somewhere else; in practice, you were hamstrung by the collective action problem.

It’s hard to get lots of people to do the same thing at the same time. You and your six friends here are going to struggle to agree on where to get drinks after tonight's lecture. How were you and your 200 Facebook friends ever gonna agree on when it was time to leave Facebook, and where to go?

So FB’s end-users engaged in a mutual hostage-taking that kept them glued to the platform. Then FB exploited that hostage situation, withdrawing the surplus from end-users and allocating it to two groups of business customers: advertisers, and publishers.

To the advertisers, FB said, 'Remember when we told those rubes we wouldn’t spy on them? We lied. We spy on them from asshole to appetite. We will sell you access to that surveillance data in the form of fine-grained ad-targeting, and we will devote substantial engineering resources to thwarting ad-fraud. Your ads are dirt cheap to serve, and we’ll spare no expense to make sure that when you pay for an ad, a real human sees it.'

To the publishers, FB said, 'Remember when we told those rubes we would only show them the things they asked to see? We lied!Upload short excerpts from your website, append a link, and we will nonconsensually cram it into the eyeballs of users who never asked to see it. We are offering you a free traffic funnel that will drive millions of users to your website to monetize as you please, and those users will become stuck to you when they subscribe to your feed.' And so advertisers and publishers became stuck to the platform, too, dependent on those users.

The users held each other hostage, and those hostages took the publishers and advertisers hostage, too, so that everyone was locked in.

Which meant it was time for the third stage of enshittification: withdrawing surplus from everyone and handing it to Facebook’s shareholders.

For the users, that meant dialing down the share of content from accounts you followed to a homeopathic dose, and filling the resulting void with ads and pay-to-boost content from publishers.

For advertisers, that meant jacking up prices and drawing down anti-fraud enforcement, so advertisers paid much more for ads that were far less likely to be seen by a person.

For publishers, this meant algorithmically suppressing the reach of their posts unless they included an ever-larger share of their articles in the excerpt, until anything less than fulltext was likely to be be disqualified from being sent to your subscribers, let alone included in algorithmic suggestion feeds.

And then FB started to punish publishers for including a link back to their own sites, so they were corralled into posting fulltext feeds with no links, meaning they became commodity suppliers to Facebook, entirely dependent on the company both for reach and for monetization, via the increasingly crooked advertising service.

When any of these groups squawked, FB just repeated the lesson that every tech executive learned in the Darth Vader MBA: 'I have altered the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.'

Facebook now enters the most dangerous phase of enshittification. It wants to withdraw all available surplus, and leave just enough residual value in the service to keep end users stuck to each other, and business customers stuck to end users, without leaving anything extra on the table, so that every extractable penny is drawn out and returned to its shareholders.

But that’s a very brittle equilibrium, because the difference between “I hate this service but I can’t bring myself to quit it,” and “Jesus Christ, why did I wait so long to quit? Get me the hell out of here!” is razor thin

All it takes is one Cambridge Analytica scandal, one whistleblower, one livestreamed mass-shooting, and users bolt for the exits, and then FB discovers that network effects are a double-edged sword.

If users can’t leave because everyone else is staying, when when everyone starts to leave, there’s no reason not to go, too.

That’s terminal enshittification, the phase when a platform becomes a pile of shit. This phase is usually accompanied by panic, which tech bros euphemistically call 'pivoting.'

Which is how we get pivots like, 'In the future, all internet users will be transformed into legless, sexless, low-polygon, heavily surveilled cartoon characters in a virtual world called "metaverse," that we ripped off from a 25-year-old satirical cyberpunk novel.'

That's the procession of enshittification. If enshittification were a disease, we'd call that enshittification's "natural history." But that doesn't tell you how the enshittification works, nor why everything is enshittifying right now, and without those details, we can't know what to do about it.

What led to the enshittocene? What is it about this moment that led to the Great Enshittening? Was it the end of the Zero Interest Rate Policy? Was it a change in leadership at the tech giants? Is Mercury in retrograde?

None of the above.

The period of free fed money certainly led to tech companies having a lot of surplus to toss around. But Facebook started enshittifying long before ZIRP ended, so did Amazon, Microsoft and Google.

Some of the tech giants got new leaders. But Google's enshittification got worse when the founders came back to oversee the company's AI panic (excuse me, 'AI pivot').

And it can't be Mercury in retrograde, because I'm a cancer, and as everyone knows, cancers don't believe in astrology.

When a whole bunch of independent entities all change in the same way at once, that's a sign that the environment has changed, and that's what happened to tech.

Tech companies, like all companies, have conflicting imperatives. On the one hand, they want to make money. On the other hand, making money involves hiring and motivating competent staff, and making products that customers want to buy. The more value a company permits its employees and customers to carve off, the less value it can give to its shareholders.

The equilibrium in which companies produce things we like in honorable ways at a fair price is one in which charging more, worsening quality, and harming workers costs more than the company would make by playing dirty.

There are four forces that discipline companies, serving as constraints on their enshittificatory impulses.

First: competition. Companies that fear you will take your business elsewhere are cautious about worsening quality or raising prices.

Second: regulation. Companies that fear a regulator will fine them more than they expect to make from cheating, will cheat less.

These two forces affect all industries, but the next two are far more tech-specific.

Third: self-help. Computers are extremely flexible, and so are the digital products and services we make from them. The only computer we know how to make is the Turing-complete Von Neumann machine, a computer that can run every valid program.

That means that users can always avail themselves of programs that undo the anti-features that shift value from them to a company's shareholders. Think of a board-room table where someone says, 'I've calculated that making our ads 20% more invasive will net us 2% more revenue per user.'

In a digital world, someone else might well say 'Yes, but if we do that, 20% of our users will install ad-blockers, and our revenue from those users will drop to zero, forever.'

This means that digital companies are constrained by the fear that some enshittificatory maneuver will prompt their users to google, 'How do I disenshittify this?'

Fourth and finally: workers. Tech workers have very low union density, but that doesn't mean that tech workers don't have labor power. The historical "talent shortage" of the tech sector meant that workers enjoyed a lot of leverage over their bosses. Workers who disagreed with their bosses could quit and walk across the street and get another job – a better job.

They knew it, and their bosses knew it. Ironically, this made tech workers highly exploitable. Tech workers overwhelmingly saw themselves as founders in waiting, entrepreneurs who were temporarily drawing a salary, heroic figures of the tech mission.

That's why mottoes like Google's 'don't be evil' and Facebook's 'make the world more open and connected' mattered: they instilled a sense of mission in workers. It's what Fobazi Ettarh calls 'vocational awe, 'or Elon Musk calls being 'extremely hardcore.'

Tech workers had lots of bargaining power, but they didn't flex it when their bosses demanded that they sacrifice their health, their families, their sleep to meet arbitrary deadlines.

So long as their bosses transformed their workplaces into whimsical 'campuses,' with gyms, gourmet cafeterias, laundry service, massages and egg-freezing, workers could tell themselves that they were being pampered – rather than being made to work like government mules.

But for bosses, there's a downside to motivating your workers with appeals to a sense of mission, namely: your workers will feel a sense of mission. So when you ask them to enshittify the products they ruined their health to ship, workers will experience a sense of profound moral injury, respond with outrage, and threaten to quit.

Thus tech workers themselves were the final bulwark against enshittification,

The pre-enshittification era wasn't a time of better leadership. The executives weren't better. They were constrained. Their worst impulses were checked by competition, regulation, self-help and worker power.

So what happened?

One by one, each of these constraints was eroded until it dissolved, leaving the enshittificatory impulse unchecked, ushering in the enshittoscene.

It started with competition. From the Gilded Age until the Reagan years, the purpose of competition law was to promote competition. US antitrust law treated corporate power as dangerous and sought to blunt it. European antitrust laws were modeled on US ones, imported by the architects of the Marshall Plan.

But starting in the neoliberal era, competition authorities all over the world adopted a doctrine called 'consumer welfare,' which held that monopolies were evidence of quality. If everyone was shopping at the same store and buying the same product, that meant it was the best store, selling the best product – not that anyone was cheating.

And so all over the world, governments stopped enforcing their competition laws. They just ignored them as companies flouted them. Those companies merged with their major competitors, absorbed small companies before they could grow to be big threats. They held an orgy of consolidation that produced the most inbred industries imaginable, whole sectors grown so incestuous they developed Habsburg jaws, from eyeglasses to sea freight, glass bottles to payment processing, vitamin C to beer.

Most of our global economy is dominated by five or fewer global companies. If smaller companies refuse to sell themselves to these cartels, the giants have free rein to flout competition law further, with 'predatory pricing' that keeps an independent rival from gaining a foothold.

When Diapers.com refused Amazon's acquisition offer, Amazon lit $100m on fire, selling diapers way below cost for months, until diapers.com went bust, and Amazon bought them for pennies on the dollar, and shut them down.

Competition is a distant memory. As Tom Eastman says, the web has devolved into 'five giant websites filled with screenshots of text from the other four,' so these giant companies no longer fear losing our business.

Lily Tomlin used to do a character on the TV show Laugh In, an AT&T telephone operator who'd do commercials for the Bell system. Each one would end with her saying 'We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.'

Today's giants are not constrained by competition.

They don't care. They don't have to. They're Google.

That's the first constraint gone, and as it slipped away, the second constraint – regulation – was also doomed.

When an industry consists of hundreds of small- and medium-sized enterprises, it is a mob, a rabble. Hundreds of companies can't agree on what to tell Parliament or Congress or the Commission. They can't even agree on how to cater a meeting where they'd discuss the matter.

But when a sector dwindles to a bare handful of dominant firms, it ceases to be a rabble and it becomes a cartel.

Five companies, or four, or three, or two, or just one company finds it easy to converge on a single message for their regulators, and without "wasteful competition" eroding their profits, they have plenty of cash to spread around.

Like Facebook, handing former UK deputy PM Nick Clegg millions every year to sleaze around Europe, telling his former colleagues that Facebook is the only thing standing between 'European Cyberspace' and the Chinese Communist Party.

Tech's regulatory capture allows it to flout the rules that constrain less concentrated sectors. They can pretend that violating labor, consumer and privacy laws is fine, because they violate them with an app.

This is why competition matters: it's not just because competition makes companies work harder and share value with customers and workers, it's because competition keeps companies from becoming too big to fail, and too big to jail.

Now, there's plenty of things we don't want improved through competition, like privacy invasions. After the EU passed its landmark privacy law, the GDPR, there was a mass-extinction event for small EU ad-tech companies. These companies disappeared en masse, and that's fine.

They were even more invasive and reckless than US-based Big Tech companies. After all, they had less to lose. We don't want competition in commercial surveillance. We don't want to produce increasing efficiency in violating our human rights.

But: Google and Facebook – who pretend they are called Alphabet and Meta – have been unscathed by European privacy law. That's not because they don't violate the GDPR (they do!). It's because they pretend they are headquartered in Ireland, one of the EU's most notorious corporate crime-havens.

And Ireland competes with the EU other crime havens – Malta, Luxembourg, Cyprus and sometimes the Netherlands – to see which country can offer the most hospitable environment for all sorts of crimes. Because the kind of company that can fly an Irish flag of convenience is mobile enough to change to a Maltese flag if the Irish start enforcing EU laws.

Which is how you get an Irish Data Protection Commission that processes fewer than 20 major cases per year, while Germany's data commissioner handles more than 500 major cases, even though Ireland is nominal home to the most privacy-invasive companies on the continent.

So Google and Facebook get to act as though they are immune to privacy law, because they violate the law with an app; just like Uber can violate labor law and claim it doesn't count because they do it with an app.

Uber's labor-pricing algorithm offers different drivers different payments for the same job, something Veena Dubal calls 'algorithmic wage discrimination.' If you're more selective about which jobs you'll take, Uber will pay you more for every ride.

But if you take those higher payouts and ditch whatever side-hustle let you cover your bills which being picky about your Uber drives, Uber will incrementally reduce the payment, toggling up and down as you grow more or less selective, playing you like a fish on a line until you eventually – inevitably – lose to the tireless pricing robot, and end up stuck with low wages and all your side-hustles gone.

Then there's Amazon, which violates consumer protection laws, but says it doesn't matter, because they do it with an app. Amazon makes $38b/year from its 'advertising' system. 'Advertising' in quotes because they're not selling ads, they're selling placements in search results.

The companies that spend the most on 'ads' go to the top, even if they're offering worse products at higher prices. If you click the first link in an Amazon search result, on average you will pay a 29% premium over the best price on the service. Click one of the first four items and you'll pay a 25% premium. On average you have to go seventeen items down to find the best deal on Amazon.

Any merchant that did this to you in a physical storefront would be fined into oblivion. But Amazon has captured its regulators, so it can violate your rights, and say, "it doesn't count, we did it with an app"

This is where that third constraint, self-help, would sure come in handy. If you don't want your privacy violated, you don't need to wait for the Irish privacy regulator to act, you can just install an ad-blocker.

More than half of all web users are blocking ads. But the web is an open platform, developed in the age when tech was hundreds of companies at each others' throats, unable to capture their regulators.

Today, the web is being devoured by apps, and apps are ripe for enshittification. Regulatory capture isn't just the ability to flout regulation, it's also the ability to co-opt regulation, to wield regulation against your adversaries.

Today's tech giants got big by exploiting self-help measures. When Facebook was telling Myspace users they needed to escape Rupert Murdoch’s evil crapulent Australian social media panopticon, it didn’t just say to those Myspacers, 'Screw your friends, come to Facebook and just hang out looking at the cool privacy policy until they get here'

It gave them a bot. You fed the bot your Myspace username and password, and it would login to Myspace and pretend to be you, and scrape everything waiting in your inbox, copying it to your FB inbox, and you could reply to it and it would autopilot your replies back to Myspace.

When Microsoft was choking off Apple's market oxygen by refusing to ship a functional version of Microsoft Office for the Mac – so that offices were throwing away their designers' Macs and giving them PCs with upgraded graphics cards and Windows versions of Photoshop and Illustrator – Steve Jobs didn't beg Bill Gates to update Mac Office.

He got his technologists to reverse-engineer Microsoft Office, and make a compatible suite, the iWork Suite, whose apps, Pages, Numbers and Keynote could perfectly read and write Microsoft's Word, Excel and Powerpoint files.

When Google entered the market, it sent its crawler to every web server on Earth, where it presented itself as a web-user: 'Hi! Hello! Do you have any web pages? Thanks! How about some more? How about more?'

But every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Facebook, Apple and Google were doing this adversarial interoperability, that was progress. If you try to do it to them, that's piracy.

Try to make an alternative client for Facebook and they'll say you violated US laws like the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and EU laws like Article 6 of the EUCD.

Try to make an Android program that can run iPhone apps and play back the data from Apple's media stores and they'd bomb you until the rubble bounced.

Try to scrape all of Google and they'll nuke you until you glowed.

Tech's regulatory capture is mind-boggling. Take that law I mentioned earlier, Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act or DMCA. Bill Clinton signed it in 1998, and the EU imported it as Article 6 of the EUCD in 2001

It is a blanket prohibition on removing any kind of encryption that restricts access to a copyrighted work – things like ripping DVDs or jailbreaking a phone – with penalties of a five-year prison sentence and a $500k fine for a first offense.

This law has been so broadened that it can be used to imprison creators for granting access to their own creations

Here's how that works: In 2008, Amazon bought Audible, an audiobook platform, in an anticompetitive acquisition. Today, Audible is a monopolist with more than 90% of the audiobook market. Audible requires that all creators on their platform sell with Amazon's "digital rights management," which locks it to Amazon's apps.

So say I write a book, then I read it into a mic, then I pay a director and an engineer thousands of dollars to turn that into an audiobook, and sell it to you on the monopoly platform, Audible, that controls more than 90% of the market.

If I later decide to leave Amazon and want to let you come with me to a rival platform, I am out of luck. If I supply you with a tool to remove Amazon's encryption from my audiobook, so you can play it in another app, I commit a felony, punishable by a 5-year sentence and a half-million-dollar fine, for a first offense.

That's a stiffer penalty than you would face if you simply pirated the audiobook from a torrent site. But it's also harsher than the punishment you'd get for shoplifting the audiobook on CD from a truck-stop. It's harsher than the sentence you'd get for hijacking the truck that delivered the CD.

So think of our ad-blockers again. 50% of web users are running ad-blockers. 0% of app users are running ad-blockers, because adding a blocker to an app requires that you first remove its encryption, and that's a felony (Jay Freeman calls this 'felony contempt of business-model').

So when someone in a board-room says, 'let's make our ads 20% more obnoxious and get a 2% revenue increase,' no one objects that this might prompt users to google, 'how do I block ads?' After all, the answer is, 'you can't.'

Indeed, it's more likely that someone in that board room will say, 'let's make our ads 100% more obnoxious and get a 10% revenue increase' (this is why every company wants you to install an app instead of using its website).

There's no reason that gig workers who are facing algorithmic wage discrimination couldn't install a counter-app that coordinated among all the Uber drivers to reject all jobs unless they reach a certain pay threshold.

No reason except felony contempt of business model, the threat that the toolsmiths who built that counter-app would go broke or land in prison, for violating DMCA 1201, the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, trademark, copyright, patent, contract, trade secrecy, nondisclosure and noncompete, or in other words: 'IP law.'

'IP' is just a euphemism for 'a law that lets me reach beyond the walls of my company and control the conduct of my critics, competitors and customers.' And 'app' is just a euphemism for 'a web-page wrapped enough IP to make it a felony to mod it to protect the labor, consumer and privacy rights of its user.'

We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company.

But what about that fourth constraint: workers?

For decades, tech workers' high degrees of bargaining power and vocational awe put a ceiling on enshittification. Even after the tech sector shrank to a handful of giants. Even after they captured their regulators so they could violate our consumer, privacy and labor rights. Even after they created 'felony contempt of business model' and extinguished self-help for tech users. Tech was still constrained by their workers' sense of moral injury in the face of the imperative to enshittify.

Remember when tech workers dreamed of working for a big company for a few years, before striking out on their own to start their own company that would knock that tech giant over?

Then that dream shrank to: work for a giant for a few years, quit, do a fake startup, get acqui-hired by your old employer, as a complicated way of getting a bonus and a promotion.

Then the dream shrank further: work for a tech giant for your whole life, get free kombucha and massages on Wednesdays.

And now, the dream is over. All that’s left is: work for a tech giant until they fire your ass, like those 12,000 Googlers who got fired last year six months after a stock buyback that would have paid their salaries for the next 27 years.

Workers are no longer a check on their bosses' worst impulses

Today, the response to 'I refuse to make this product worse' is, 'turn in your badge and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.'

I get that this is all a little depressing

OK, really depressing.

But hear me out! We've identified the disease. We've traced its natural history. We've identified its underlying mechanism. Now we can get to work on a cure.

There are four constraints that prevent enshittification: competition, regulation, self-help and labor.

To reverse enshittification and guard against its reemergence, we must restore and strengthen each of these.

On competition, it's actually looking pretty good. The EU, the UK, the US, Canada, Australia, Japan and China are all doing more on competition than they have in two generations. They're blocking mergers, unwinding existing ones, taking action on predatory pricing and other sleazy tactics.

Remember, in the US and Europe, we already have the laws to do this – we just stopped enforcing them in the Helmut Kohl era.

I've been fighting these fights with the Electronic Frontier Foundation for 22 years now, and I've never seen a more hopeful moment for sound, informed tech policy.

Now, the enshittifiers aren't taking this laying down. The business press can't stop talking about how stupid and old-fashioned all this stuff is. They call people like me 'hipster antitrust,' and they hate any regulator who actually does their job.

Take Lina Khan, the brilliant head of the US Federal Trade Commission, who has done more in three years on antitrust than the combined efforts of all her predecessors over the past 40 years. Rupert Murdoch's Wall Street Journal has run more than 80 editorials trashing Khan, insisting that she's an ineffectual ideologue who can't get anything done.

Sure, Rupert, that's why you ran 80 editorials about her.

Because she can't get anything done.

Even Canada is stepping up on competition. Canada! Land of the evil billionaire! From Ted Rogers, who owns the country's telecoms; to Galen Weston, who owns the country's grocery stores; to the Irvings, who basically own the entire province of New Brunswick.

Even Canada is doing something about this. Last autumn, Trudeau's government promised to update Canada's creaking competition law to finally ban 'abuse of dominance.'

I mean, wow. I guess when Galen Weston decided to engage in a criminal conspiracy to fix the price of bread – the most Les Miz-ass crime imaginable – it finally got someone's attention, eh?

Competition has a long way to go, but all over the world, competition law is seeing a massive revitalization. Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher put antitrust law in a coma in the 80s – but it's awake, it's back, and it's pissed.

What about regulation? How will we get tech companies to stop doing that one weird trick of adding 'with an app' to their crimes and escaping enforcement?

Well, here in the EU, they're starting to figure it out. This year, the Digital Markets Act and the Digital Services Act went into effect, and they let people who get screwed by tech companies go straight to the federal European courts, bypassing the toothless watchdogs in Europe's notorious corporate crime havens like Ireland.

In America, they might finally get a digital privacy law. You people have no idea how backwards US privacy law is. The last time the US Congress enacted a broadly applicable privacy law was in 1988.

The Video Privacy Protection Act makes it a crime for video-store clerks to leak your video-rental history. It was passed after a right-wing judge who was up for the Supreme Court had his rentals published in a DC newspaper. The rentals weren't even all that embarrassing!

Sure, that judge, Robert Bork, wasn't confirmed for the Supreme Court, but that was because he was a virulently racist loudmouth and a crook who served as Nixon's Solicitor General.

But Congress got the idea that their video records might be next, freaked out, and passed the VPPA.

That was the last time Americans got a big, national privacy law. Nineteen. Eighty. Eight.

It's been a minute.

And the thing is, there's a lot of people who are angry about stuff that has some nexus with America's piss-poor privacy landscape. Worried that Facebook turned Grampy into a Qanon? That Insta made your teen anorexic? That TikTok is brainwashing millennials into quoting Osama Bin Laden?

Or that cops are rolling up the identities of everyone at a Black Lives Matter protest or the Jan 6 riots by getting location data from Google?

Or that Red State Attorneys General are tracking teen girls to out-of-state abortion clinics?

Or that Black people are being discriminated against by online lending or hiring platforms?

Or that someone is making AI deepfake porn of you?

Having a federal privacy law with a private right of action – which means that individuals can sue companies that violate their privacy – would go a long way to rectifying all of these problems. There's a big coalition for that kind of privacy law.

What about self-help? That's a lot farther away, alas.

The EU's DMA will force tech companies to open up their walled gardens for interoperation. You'll be able to use Whatsapp to message people on iMessage, or quit Facebook and move to Mastodon, but still send messages to the people left behind.

But if you want to reverse-engineer one of those Big Tech products and mod it to work for you, not them, the EU's got nothing for you.

This is an area ripe for improvement, and I think the US might be the first ones to open this up.

It's certainly on-brand for the EU to be forcing tech companies to do things a certain way, while the US simply takes away tech companies' abilities to prevent others from changing how their stuff works.

My big hope here is that Stein's Law will take hold: 'Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop'

Letting companies decide how their customers must use their products is simply too tempting an invitation to mischief. HP has a whole building full of engineers thinking of new ways to lock your printer to its official ink cartridges, forcing you to spend $10,000/gallon on ink to print your boarding passes and shopping lists.

It's offensive. The only people who don't agree are the people running the monopolies in all the other industries, like the med-tech monopolists who are locking their insulin pumps to their glucose monitors, turning people with diabetes into walking inkjet printers.

Finally, there's labor. Here in Europe, there's much higher union density than in the US, which American tech barons are learning the hard way. There is nothing more satisfying in the daily news than the latest salvo by Nordic unions against that Tesla guy (Musk is the most Edison-ass Tesla guy imaginable).

But even in the USA, there's a massive surge in tech unions. Tech workers are realizing that they aren't founders in waiting. The days of free massages and facial piercings and getting to wear black tee shirts that say things your boss doesn't understand are coming to an end.

In Seattle, Amazon's tech workers walked out in sympathy with Amazon's warehouse workers, because they're all workers.

The only reason the tech workers aren't monitored by AI that notifies their managers if they visit the toilet during working hours is their rapidly dwindling bargaining power. The way things are going, Amazon programmers are going to be pissing in bottles next to their workstations (for a guy who built a penis-shaped rocket, Jeff Bezos really hates our kidneys).

We're seeing bold, muscular, global action on competition, regulation and labor, with self-help bringing up the rear. It's not a moment too soon, because the bad news is, enshittification is coming to every industry.

If it's got a networked computer in it, the people who made it can run the Darth Vader MBA playbook on it, changing the rules from moment to moment, violating your rights and then saying 'It's OK, we did it with an app.'

From Mercedes renting you your accelerator pedal by the month to Internet of Things dishwashers that lock you into proprietary dishsoap, enshittification is metastasizing into every corner of our lives.

Software doesn't eat the world, it enshittifies it

But there's a bright side to all this: if everyone is threatened by enshittification, then everyone has a stake in disenshittification.

Just as with privacy law in the US, the potential anti-enshittification coalition is massive, it's unstoppable.

The cynics among you might be skeptical that this will make a difference. After all, isn't "enshittification" the same as "capitalism"?

Well, no.

Look, I'm not going to cape for capitalism here. I'm hardly a true believer in markets as the most efficient allocators of resources and arbiters of policy – if there was ever any doubt, capitalism's total failure to grapple with the climate emergency surely erases it.

But the capitalism of 20 years ago made space for a wild and wooly internet, a space where people with disfavored views could find each other, offer mutual aid, and organize.

The capitalism of today has produced a global, digital ghost mall, filled with botshit, crapgadgets from companies with consonant-heavy brand-names, and cryptocurrency scams.

The internet isn't more important than the climate emergency, nor gender justice, racial justice, genocide, or inequality.

But the internet is the terrain we'll fight those fights on. Without a free, fair and open internet, the fight is lost before it's joined.

We can reverse the enshittification of the internet. We can halt the creeping enshittification of every digital device.

We can build a better, enshittification-resistant digital nervous system, one that is fit to coordinate the mass movements we will need to fight fascism, end genocide, and save our planet and our species.

Martin Luther King said 'It may be true that the law cannot make a man love me, but it can stop him from lynching me, and I think that's pretty important.'

And it may be true that the law can't force corporate sociopaths to conceive of you as a human being entitled to dignity and fair treatment, and not just an ambulatory wallet, a supply of gut-bacteria for the immortal colony organism that is a limited liability corporation.

But it can make that exec fear you enough to treat you fairly and afford you dignity, even if he doesn't think you deserve it.

And I think that's pretty important.

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/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel/a>

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

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

[haykawas]

✩•̩̩͙*˚ MONDAY – GETO SUGURU.

summary : you have five days to ask your hot tattooed boss out. better make it count.

word count : 1.3K tags : tattoo shop owner!suguru, modern au, pining, workplace AU, fem!reader, smoking.

MONDAY – TUESDAY

You nervously bit your lip as you considered going out the threshold, your right hand hovering over the doorknob as your thoughts went haywire. You knew what was behind – or rather, who was –, you knew you had to do something about it because you’d been having a stupid crush on the hot owner of your new workplace for a few months now and you just couldn’t seem to get him out of your system – and yes, it didn’t help that you literally saw him every day. 

But honestly, who could blame you? Heavily tattooed – logical, seeing as he literally owned a tattoo parlor –, pierced, with long black hair and sparkling brown eyes, he surely was everyone’s dream man come true.

You wanted to do it right, go right to him, act cool and mysterious, and subtly ask him out while he smiled sheepishly, cheeks red at your forwardness. 

But you knew you couldn’t, that all of this was in your head. For one, he was absolutely not the type to blush. He was the type to make people blush. Second, Suguru was the most popular one at the shop, and considering you also worked with certified heartbreakers like Satoru and Toji, it was something to say. But how couldn’t he be? He was sweet and charming, a smooth talker. He always had the right words and had to be the most patient man you’d ever met.

And of course, he was also smoking hot. It also didn’t help that all you managed to do when you came in less than a three-meter radius from him was act clumsy and stutter like a newborn learning how to speak. You were definitely aware of the situation. The fact that he was way way out of your league. And you’d have discarded the thought of asking him out if Satoru hadn’t infiltrated your mind and set your heart racing when he’d whispered to you that someone he knew was planning on asking his best friend out this Friday.

“I mean, have you seen the guy?” He’d said, a knowing smirk on his lips, “You have ‘till Friday to make a move, or you’re fucked.”

Today was Monday. 

It was Monday, and of course, you still hadn’t said a single word to him. Sure, you two often found yourselves talking about work, new designs you’d come up with, and you had made sure to come to him every time you needed some advice, – and surprisingly, he’d also started doing so, setting your heart on fire every time he came to you –, but that was it. You two had never hung out together outside of work, even though you often had nights out with the others.

You shook your head and turned the doorknob, deciding you were going to stop acting like a schoolgirl with a stupid crush because it was honestly embarrassing. But then you saw him and immediately went back on your words.

God, he was just so effortlessly perfect. Who were you kidding? You could never stop acting this stupid when he looked like this.

He looked engrossed in a conversation, slender hands busy taping against the screen of his phone, a small grin on his lips, and you immediately considered going back inside. You were cringing inside, wondering what you were thinking coming back there when he was clearly busy.

But superior forces must’ve had other plans for you, because before you could make a hasty retreat inside the shop, your foot caught on a loose cobblestone, causing you to stumble and knock off a stack of empty crates.

You froze, the crates clattering and crashing to the ground. If he hadn’t heard you before, he sure had now. You sighed, lifting your eyes to see him, a cigarette casually hanging from his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he beckoned you over with a nod and an amused smile. You looked left and right to see if he was calling someone else over, but quickly realized there was no one else outside. Your head turned to him, cheeks burning from embarrassment as he chuckled at your action. “Care to join me?” He added with a smile, before taking a long drag out of his burning stick.

You bit your lip and complied, leaning against the wall right next to him, as you tried holding in violent coughs, the smoke hurting your lungs. You were silent and must have been staring at the cigarette he was gracefully holding too intently, because he suddenly held it out to you, “You smoke?”

You melted at the sound of his voice, rich and gentle. And, no. No, you didn’t smoke. You absolutely didn’t and you’d never even wanted to try it.

So you couldn’t understand why the hell you were telling him that yes, you did, that you were an expert at rolling blunts at that, like you’d done this your entire life, when even the fruity smokes from fairs made you sick to your stomach. But… you didn’t want to tell him that no, that you found it repulsive at best. Besides… you kind of wanted to try it, now. See why he loved it so much. It couldn’t be that bad if he did, right?

You weren’t sure about that. But honestly, you didn’t even care if it gave you the chance to stand that close to him and share a moment, as short and insignificant as it may have been, with the man you’d been pining after for a while now.

You accepted the cigarette when he handed it to you, clumsily gripping it between two fingers as you stared at it hesitantly. You didn’t know how you looked right now, but you hoped you came across as at least a quarter as confident as he did. You know you didn’t, because as soon as you took your first drag, you started coughing uncontrollably, the smoke burning your throat as you gasped for fresh air.

“Definitely an expert at this, are you?” He teased, his focused gaze not leaving your form one bit as he took the stick back from your hand to place it between his plush lips. He took a long drag before exhaling the smoke in your direction, and his eyes crinkled with amusement as he watched you try not to cough it all out. His lips curled into a playful smile, tongue coming out to swipe at his bottom lip as he watched your flustered form. You were just so damn cute.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice lower, “smoking’s not for everyone. I’m sure you must be an… expert, at something else.” He winked, his gaze lingering longer than necessary as he took you in from head to toe before he met your eyes once again.

Your breath caught in your throat at the implication of his words, heart racing as you tried to decipher what he must’ve meant by that. Surely it was innocent.

…Right?

The man suddenly straightened up, his playful demeanor shifting as he glanced at his watch. “Well,” he sighed, “break time’s over for me.” He casually tossed the half-smoked cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his Doc Martens boot.

You nodded at him with a smile, but couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at the prospect of the conversation coming to an end so soon. This was the longest you’d ever found yourself alone with him, and you hadn’t even come close to asking him out. But before you could say a word, he met your eyes with a knowing smile. 

“If you ever want to experience new things, though…” he dragged out, hawk eyes not leaving yours, “you know where to find me.” The suggestion hung in the air long after the door swung shut behind him, and you let yourself slide against the wall of the alley, lightheaded. A few words from his soft lips had been all it took to make you lose your cool.

Oh, you were so fucked.

…And you still hadn’t confessed. Damn you, Suguru Geto.

AN : ok soo i actually haven't posted a fic about any fandom since like 2016/2017 so i'm back to stage 1 lmao. english is not my first language so i may update my posts sometimes to correct things a little too!! plus it hasn't been proofread yet bc it's 1am where i live rn so yeah. this os is actually meant to have followups, so if people like it i'll work on more parts for this (idk if this'll show up in searches since it's a new blog tho but oh weLL) (it was actually meant to be a drabble but i went overboard) (i still had to force myself to stop writing more)

[bluejukebox]

somewhat damaged - ghost x reader ˚₊⊹

The 141 Task Force gets their own special combat medic, one who catches the attention of Simon "Ghost" Riley. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ warnings: NSFW !! MDNI !! afab reader, blood, stitches, unsafe sex, p in v, vaginal fingering, some dirty talk ☆

They were all huddled in Captain Price’s office when he proudly uttered the words : “We’ll be expecting a new addition to the 141”. Ghost couldn’t exactly say he was happy. He especially couldn’t when the captain was being extremely vague about this ‘new addition’. It wasn’t a secret that Ghost was absolutely horrible with new people, the walls he’s built for himself standing strong and high. Maybe it was a territory thing or maybe a textbook case of trust issues, he wasn’t sure. All he knows for sure is that his ‘distrusting of people’ habit gave him a not so positive reputation around base. His intimidating figure, mannerisms and appearance scared people off, which he definitely prided himself on. He knew that the other members, specifically Gaz and Soap, would try and force information out of Price by continuously whining, so Ghost decided to sit back and observe, per usual. 

“C’mon cap, ya can give us a lil’ bit more than that can’t ya?” Soap immediately perked up from his chair.

Price shut his eyes out of annoyance. “MacTavish, don’t start.", with a deep sigh he continued “If I had more crucial information about her I would’ve already given it, don’t you think?”

“Her?” Gaz and Soap both astoundedly said. Even this little detail caught the Lieutenants attention. He’s worked with numerous women before, to him the sex of a person isn’t a problem as long as they keep to protocol and know what they’re doing. The Task Force 141 would occasionally team up with other ‘groups’, like the Shadow Company, but new members being assigned was rare. 

With yet another deep sigh the captain continued speaking. “Yes, her. She’s a very reputable combat medic. As you all know there’s been some staff shortages in the medical area around here”, he said while cutting the tip of yet another cigar. “- and trust me I know how stubborn some of you guys get about getting your injuries checked out, don’t even try to deny it. In my professional opinion I think she’ll be a valuable asset to our Task Force, you’re all dismissed”. He waved his cigar clad hand towards the boys to signal them to get out. 

Not even a second after Ghost leaves the office he hears the scot rambling on, “Ya hear that LT? A lady, I wonder what the lass is like”.

Ghost frowned beneath the mask, he had expected Soap to be more concerned with the girl’s gender and less her combat abilities and medical skills, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. All he gave in reply was a grunt while he strided back to the ‘dormitory wing’. 

As he left the area he heard the loud discussion between the members about the new mystery combat medic, but it wouldn’t be until a couple weeks later that you’d arrive. 

And god, Ghost was troubled, These complicated, strong feelings all started the second you stepped foot in the base… 

The contrast between you and him was astonishing, you were so vastly different from him. The bubbly personality, and the cute shy way you had introduced yourself to the Task Force really caught his attention. You’re a proper pretty woman, with a very nice physique that was obviously trained hard for. Safe to say he was interested, though he’d never admit this outloud. The man isn’t known for being in touch with his feelings and definitely isn’t known for accepting intimacy, but that’s somehow exactly what you got him to do.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It was a rough mission, bad intel all around, your ears still ringing from all the shooting, explosives, the deafening sound of jet fighters flying close to the ground and projectiles. But the numerous injuries needed tending, the severity of them varying was your responsibility, you needed to focus. You needed to mend their wounds and nurse them back to health. 

It was a close call but you all got to safety, hiding out in a little safe house far enough from where all the chaos was unfolding. You immediately got to work, readying your supplies and putting on some gloves to maintain the little hygiene you could. Firstly you treated the wounds that called for the most attention, which thankfully weren’t life threatening if they get proper treatment back at base. After the emergency operations on numerous bullet grazes, scrapes, cuts and bruises the group was finally able to rest their eyes for a moment. 

They all scattered off, sounding grunts and hisses of pain. That’s when you realized there was one person you hadn’t mended to, Ghost. Your eyes lifting to find his, you found him looking at you with his brown eyes, his masked head quickly turning back to observe the treeline outside the window. 

“Someone’s gotta keep watch, you can go take a break” He heavily grunted, exhaustion evident in his gruff voice. “Are you okay? I-I’m here to help, I want to help you”, You frowned, disappointment unmasked in your response. Ghost could feel his heart skip a beat, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone spoke to him the way you did, the feelings you gave him were clouding his judgement. “I’m fine love, go rest up”

That nickname always got the blood rushing to your face, time and time again. You already were a shy person, the guest free and welcoming nature of the members of 141 didn’t change how intimidating they all were to you. But hearing the endearing nickname come out of his mouth, with his extremely attractive accent and voice, it was a no-brainer that you started developing feelings (and fantasies) for the man.  You thought you hid it pretty well, the way you’d become bashful when he spoke to you, the way you’d stutter your replies back. Obviously you didn’t, the others caught on pretty fast. It quickly became a huge trend in the 141 to tease you about your schoolgirl crush. Soap calling you ‘Mrs Ghost’ when you were alone or the looks they’d send your way when the lieutenant would lift the hem of his shirt to tap away the sweat droplets at the juncture of his neck during training. Even Captain Price joined in, it positively mortified you.

It was hard not to be intrigued by the skull mask, the skull sewn onto a balaclava, white paint replacing the place where the mandible would’ve been. There was obviously a lot of thought put into it, maybe love you wondered. Ghost wasn’t one of the youngest men in the military, it was safe to assume he had a partner and family waiting at home. That's why the late night fantasizing about the lieutenant made you feel guilty and gross, and the innocent crushing foolish.

“Alright, the offer still stands. Would it be okay if I stay here, with you?” The grunt you got in response was enough affirmation for you, quickly finding a spot to settle down and silently thanking the gods for the blankets that were still stored in the safehouse. Slowly you dozed off, exhaustion from the day weighing down on you and pulling you down into a light slumber. 

You were awoken by muffled hisses of pain, lifting your head from your makeshift pillow and trying to locate the sound which you quickly found. There was Ghost, stripped from his usual heavy gear, instead sporting a grey t-shirt, awkwardly stitching up what looks like a very deep bullet graze on his left bicep. Your shifting must’ve alerted him because his head shot to where you were resting. He knew he was caught.

“Oh, Ghost.." you sighed “You could’ve told me atleast, it’s my job you know” 

“Didn’t wanna burden ya”, he muttered after a pregnant pause looking properly defeated. He dropped the needle and thread. Slowly you got up from your prone position, standing up to stretch your legs. Cautiously you sauntered over to where he was sitting. “Well you can’t possibly burden me, and definitely not when you’re hurt and in need of assistance” You smiled, your presence truly calmed him. But the way you cared, the way you talked awakened something deeply buried in him, you were so confusing to him, a mystery. 

As you got closer to him, you settled down against a nearby chair. “Can I help you now?”, to which he only nodded. Carefully you placed your hands on his forearm, your touch making him jump.

“Sorry, my hands are pretty cold”, you bashfully said. 

That’s not why he jumped, he couldn’t even feel the temperature of your hands. Calling him touch-starved would be an understatement, the simple feel of your softer hands touching his tainted skin so gently made his blood rush down south. He felt so perverted, he was getting hard from you simply doing what you were assigned to do. 

You simply took over for him, disinfecting and stitching up his wound for him. In the amount of times he’d come to you for help you both felt the tension. It was undeniable, and this time it was the exact same. Even though the safehouse was chilly, even though you could see every exhale you felt flushed. Warmth spreading over your entire body, and pooling in your lower belly. You could barely sit still while tending to him.

“I’m almost finished” You whispered, your tone coming out more breathy than you had anticipated. The arm you were tending to tensed up, in fact his whole body tensed up. Suddenly the air around you both seemed to get heavier. He couldn’t help letting his thoughts transition over to a more inappropriate side of his brain. It wasn’t the first time his mind went there (certainly not the last). On lonely nights he’d have the image of you splayed in different positions, situations, outfits-  He was sure he looked a mess; clammy hands, a tense body sporting a semi. Praying to god his hard-on isn’t as visible as it feels, he wasn’t small by any means, nothing about him was. You both sat in silence waiting for you to finish up, noticeably your movements got more jittery and shaky. He saw the way you crossed your legs over one another in the corner of his eye. How your legs were squeezing together for some form of relief. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not, there could absolutely be no chance you were interested in him, no chance he was the reason you’re getting turned on. One of his specialties is observing people, there’s no way he never noticed the signs.. Now he was staring intently at your face, his body fighting against the urge to kiss you, mark you, push you to your knees- 

“All done” your cheery voice cut through his lewd train of thought. When your eyes met his, your body was uncontrollable, your hand that was patching him up slowly drifting over his bicep, over to the place where his shoulder met his neck. That was the last straw for Ghost. Gripping your waist and pulling you towards him, faces inches apart. He could feel you breathing, eyes shifting down to your plump lips, chapped from the cold. 

Suddenly your face showed uncertainty, which immediately made Ghost drop his hands from your body.

“Do you have somebody waiting for you at home? Please be honest with me”

“Oh love, I don’t, I promise I don’t”

You’ve never heard his voice sound so desperate, so warm and needy. With the vulnerability he’s showing to you right now there’s no way he’s lying. All you could do was give him your signature infectious smile, that was his queue to touch you again. When he started lifting up his mask, placing the hem of it on the bridge of his nose, you were absolutely mesmerized. His strong jaw with a slight stubble and plump lips were on display, all and only for you. 

Your hands sneaked from the juncture of his neck to his jaw, eyes flicking down to his lips and then back to his eyes. Faces inching closer, lips slightly touching but neither of you giving in.  Before your lips finally met, he grabbed a hold of the sides of your face and ground his lips on yours. He grunted into your lips which made you whine back into his. The kiss became more and more needy, hints of nips and licks. Now that he’s gotten a taste of you, he’s become insatiable. He doesn’t even want to imagine never feeling your lips on his again, you were intoxicating. The position you both were in wasn’t comfortable anymore, he manhandled you and made you sit on his left knee, your back to his chest and his knee resting comfortably between your legs. His lips now working his way down the right side of your neck, hands moving from your hips to your thighs. His touch was light, hands moving from your outer thigh to your inner, before gripping lightly and spreading them for you. Your thighs felt so sensitive, his touch made your body light aflame, nobody has ever had this effect on you.  

“Is this okay darlin’?” He spoke against your neck, if his accent didn’t make you crazy before, it definitely made you crazy now. 

“Yes, please don’t stop” you whispered, unfortunately you weren’t alone in the safehouse and you definitely weren’t hidden. All you got in response was a chuckle. His hands kept teasing you, noticing how sensitive you got when he caressed the insides of your thighs, when he got closer to where you needed him most. Slowly his hand inched towards your tactical belt. But you beat him to it, desperately unbuckling and removing it. Ghost could only watch in amusement.

He helped you with the button on your pants, he couldn’t wait to feel what a mess he turned you into. He’s been dreaming about this for weeks now, the way you feel, your taste, the sounds you’d make, all of it. His brain already working overtime to tuck the memories of your warmth, the sound of your voice and the taste of your lips safely tucked away in his brain. It’s something only for him. 

The zipper of your pants being pulled down sent your brain into overdrive. You were so horny, your clit throbbing, positively drenching your underwear. Without thinking you shifted your hips backwards, your butt being driven into Ghost’s arousal as well as your clit making contact with the surface of his thigh. Bunching the fabric of his pants up in your hands while barely being able to contain your whine. What you both were doing was taboo, him being your superior and all. If anybody found out there could be drastic consequences for the both of you, but he obviously couldn’t care less about that now, and honestly neither could you. 

“Take what you need love, god- you’re so beautiful, I can feel you through my pants”

Slowly you started rocking your hips back and forth, the friction and pressure just enough to relieve you even a little bit. Breath hitching at every pleasurable rock against him, he started helping you thrust your hips by guiding you with his hands on your hips. You swear you could cum from this, you were so sensitive. All the pent up energy and all the fantasies you’ve had about him weren’t helping. 

“I-I’m close”, you whimpered, fisting his pants even harder than before, positively stretching the material out. 

"Already? You’ll be a good girl and cum for me, won’t ya?” Your brain was clouded by lust. You couldn’t even detect the humorous mocking in his voice. Him praising you is what set you off, hips starting to rock in a frenzied rhythm trying to reach the climax heavily burning in your core. Ghost started rocking his hips into your ass, simultaneously pleasuring you even more, his mouth so close to your ear, licking and biting on the lobe. His heavenly moans, grunts and heavy breathing pushed you impossibly closer to the edge. 

The fire in your core burned brighter with every thrust of your hips against his thigh. Letting go of your hold on his jeans you stabilised yourself against his hands holding your hips. Your body tensed, you threw your head back against his shoulder and moaned a lot louder than you should’ve when the pressure finally released, the pleasure kept building and building in intensity, every muscle in your lower region tightening in a delicious rhythm. “Good girl,” he breathed out, you were moaning so prettily, he wanted to save every octave and tone you were making in his brain so he’ll never be able to forget. The slow grinding of your throbbing clit against him brought you back to earth from the best orgasm you’ve had in your life. When he saw you came down he started to rub your arms soothingly up and down. He started pulling you even closer to him, the pressure and warmth of his body on yours helped you come back to your senses.

“I-I’ve- nobody has ever done that to me”, you giggled, turning to look at him. Who would’ve thought his touch would be like magic. Your body felt like jelly, but somehow you still wanted more. “You’re so beautiful when you cum”, He said while brushing loose strands away from your face, his eyes staring into yours. It was so incredibly intimate, his touch so tender it was making you melt. His hand yet again wandering to your core, brushing over your shirt clad breasts and travelling down to your open zipper. His fingers found their way inside your pants, he could feel the warmth radiating off of you. The way his fingers immediately felt wet simply just touching you outside of the fabric of your underwear, you had to be dripping. Even the insides of your thighs were a little slick.

“God, doll, you’re so fucking wet”, he groaned out. All you gave back in response was a high pitched ‘mhm’ muffled by your lips. His cock throbbing at this discovery, the fact you were affected by him so badly was making him feel so self-assured, his ego positively growing. Everything about you was perfect to him. 

After caressing you for a while through your underwear he finally decided to put his hand in your underwear, the uncensored feeling of his skin on your sensitive flesh was better than you could’ve imagined. With no fabric in the way it felt twice as good as it did before, you felt him spread your labia with his fore- and middle finger, making you clench, another drop of wetness dripping out of you. His now lubricated fingers moved upwards and circled your clit, you whined and moaned at his actions.

“I want to fuck you so badly but I need to get you ready for me love, fuck- I’ll take care of you”

That’s all he said before his middle and ring finger dipped down to your opening, making sure they were covered plenty in your slick before sliding inside you. You were tight due to your recent orgasm. He stopped halfway, his hands being huge compared to yours, he knew you’d need some time to recover. 

You’ve never felt so desperate for somebody, it was consuming you. Every fiber of your being needed him, you needed him to go faster, to go deeper. You wanted him to mark you, for him to be yours, and you his. 

Your hands grabbed onto the arm that was busy pleasuring you, one palm slipping from his forearm to his hand, trying to push him deeper inside you. He hadn’t even touched you for 2 minutes and you were already close. He was going to be the death of you.

“Ghost- fffuck, go deeper, I need you”, you were shamelessly moaning now, the thought of the other members being inside the building pushed out of your brain by the mind blowing pleasure Ghost was gifting your body. 

“Call me Simon, love”

You chanted his name, feeling yourself yet again get closer to the edge, the knot in your stomach unraveling faster than you ever anticipated. You were gradually getting tighter and tighter around his fingers, it felt even better. The rhythmic rocking sent you into yet another overwhelming orgasm. 

Ghost felt you gush around him, the sound of your slick with every thrust was deafening. He had to do everything in his power not to cum in his pants. You were truly a dream come true to him. 

When you calmed down and he felt your walls around his fingers relax, they slipped out of you. Strings of wetness tied his index finger to his middle, even his palm was wet. He started working on getting you both undressed, quickly pulling off his hoodie and shirt. Seeing him strip had put you into action as well, quickly ridding yourself of your shirt. As you sat there, tits clad with a very tight and uncomfortable sports bra, you gawked at his physique. He was crafted by the gods, muscles so defined and sharp. The broadness of his shoulders were twice, maybe even triple, the size of yours. 

Reaching up to caress his gorgeous chest your hand accidentally slid over his nipple, making him let out a muffled moan. You wanted to make him moan like that more, you’d do anything to hear it again. Hands drifting to the line of hair that disappeared into his cargo pants, slipping even lower and caressing his bulge through the thick fabric. Your pupils dilated at the reactions he gave at every touch you gave him. He looked like a god so you wanted to worship him like one. 

Standing up with shaky legs you pushed your pants that were hanging low on your hips down to your feet. Now standing only in your undergarments in front of him. He wasted no time in ridding himself of his own pants. Relieving some of the pressure on his hard, throbbing cock. 

He was sporting a tent in his boxers, which was now very visible with the fabric of his thick pants gone. You just stared at it, you’ve been with men before but it’s been a while. He certainly was above average, a fact that matched the rest of his physique. You caressed your hands down his sculpted body, ghosting over his pecs down to the hem of his boxers. Wasting no more time you gently pulled the boxers down. He was uncut and leaking onto the fabric of his underpants, which made your mouth water. Everything about him was just painfully attractive, the sight of him sweating, legs spread with his cock out and head thrown slightly back to gaze at you was something you’d never forget. 

“We have to be quick love, it’s already dawn”, Ghost said. His left hand gripping the base of his cock and the other gliding from your waist to your ass, gripping and pulling you towards him until you were standing in between his legs. Both of his hands were now working on pulling your underwear down your legs with desperation. You knew he needed you on him, around his cock as much as you needed him. 

You wasted no more time and sat on his thighs, the air between you two heavy. Ghost gripped the base of his cock and rubbed the tip of him on your clit, before finally positioning it near the opening of your hole. His mouth was open, the man breathing heavily in anticipation.

“Love, ffffuck I need you. You still want me right?”, the arousal was dripping off of his words.

“Mhm, yes-yes please put it in me, I can’t wait any longer”,

His tip slid in slowly, you felt the muscles of your pussy accommodate him. The stretch brought a slight sting with it, you’re not used to fucking men with cocks as girthy and big as Simons. You moved your hips closer to Ghost’s, you felt the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be as close and connected with him as humanly possible. At your motions he let out a symphony of grunts and moans while squeezing your hips to contain his excitement, trying to hold himself back. 

“Please don’t hold back, I need you to fuck me dumb- Simon please”, and the second your words processed in Simons brain he broke. Pulling you completely on his cock until he was balls deep inside you, hips angling upwards so that you’d somehow feel even fuller than before. Gripping his shoulder and nape you started your movements with him, hips moving in sync. 

“Doll, you’re fucking made for me. Born to be my fuck toy, how -fuuckkk is it possible for you to feel this good?”, Ghost said with a strained voice. Hearing his words made your pussy clench even tighter around him, “Hah- you like that? Being mine?”, all you could do was whimper and moan pathetically in response. 

Both of you wouldn’t last long, Simon was already nearing his climax after not even being 2 minutes inside of you. His masked face was pushed into your neck, making you feel the vibrations of his moans and his heavy breathing. Suddenly he let go of your hips and slid his hands under your sports bra you were still wearing, pulling the bra up to expose your chest. He positively groaned when he saw your perfect tits. Bouncing in sync with the rhythm, the cold air hardens your nipples even more. 

“Ahhh- I can’t last any longer love, where do you want me?”, 

“Don’t pull out- don’t stop”,

Your cockdrunk response triggered his orgasm, his thrusts getting slower and deeper to ensure you’re fucked full with his load. Feeling him throb so deeply inside you was fueling your own oncoming climax. You started riding him fast and deep in desperation. You grabbed his hand and started using his fingers to rub your clit, he loved seeing you get off with everything he had to offer. 

Your hips got wilder and wilder, until finally your body shuddered. Gasping and moaning was all you could do, the orgasm seemingly never ending. The soothing motions of Simon caressing your back and him still circling your clit in slow circles helped you come back down to earth. 

Now the only noises in the room were the heavy breathing of you both recovering. Your head falling down on Simon’s shoulders while he soothingly pet your hair, his softening cock still inside you. He kissed you long and soft, you felt him still breathing heavily out of his nose. Finally departing from the sweet kiss, he pulled you close. His face was in your hair. Giving you kisses on top of your head. “Thank you, love. I really needed this”, he whispered.

“I- it was my pleasure, Simon”, you said bashfully.

“My cock is inside you and you’re still this shy?”, Simon laughed. You couldn’t help but join in, all the chaos that took place only a couple hours before momentarily forgotten. 

Simon felt truly at peace. Something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, nevermind this mind-numbingly powerful. After having a taste of you and all that you’ve made his cold heart feel, he wasn’t going to let you go easily. Not that you wanted him to anyways.. <3

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this is my first fanfic! i'm european so i'm very sorry about my possible grammar mistakes :')) i also posted this on AO3 !

[soundbulb]

while I'm thinking about rust's motivations, I don't agree that rust is motivated by helping people, which is the common sentiment I see when people talk about his characterization. I don't think he's devoid of feeling about it or sees it as inconsequential or anything, but even I think the line "bad men keep other bad men from the door" gets taken a little too seriously, when it's rust's denial shielding him from his reality, but also independent of reality; what he observes and believes. throughout the story we very much see very much see that they do not, in fact, keep bad men from the door. marty was the bad man in his wife and daughter's lives.

when he says things like "those kids will be in that room again" and "when I think of my daughter, what she was spared" and "you see in that last moment they invited it" along with the visit to the girl he did save in '92, kelly, it's pretty obvious he doesn't think finding the murderers or the victims saves anyone. when he says "we have a debt" he believes that debt is to those who suffered at the hands of these men, because by not catching and stopping him they've damned these women and children to infinite lifetimes that cycle them through violence at the hands of these men over and over. it's not that they help; it's that they've failed, and this is recompense, and in this way I think the statement "we keep other bad men from the door" is denial, it's his own capacity for his illusion rearing, and this time period for rust and his monologues are especially rife with this illusion. older rust being interviewed gives a very different view, that his daughter was "spared" because her death was random and immediate. "to go out as a happy child." he specifically says that growing up is too late because you've already been denied mercy, already keeled at the hands of all this degradation you'll live over and over again, but his daughter's circle is just joy and then a painless end before she can pay the price of living, particularly the price of living as a woman. his daughter is who's in mind when he sees how marie fontenot dies, and even then how kelly lives after her liberation. she's catatonic, living in an institution. the boy died in that room after months of abuse, that's where it ends for him, and restarts, so it can end there again and again.

this is a sidebar, but a detail we get is that the boy was reported missing and kelly wasn't. at the time she wasn't reported missing "yet", but then we see her living in an institution meaning she either had no family, her family didn't home her, her family couldn't or wouldn't take care her of her in her state.

the state she's in reminds me of an article from 2017ish I think, where a woman, after a traumatic event, became extremely sick and catatonic, and a researcher saw her in his residency and then after a decade or so when he's a doctor he hears she's still there and recalls she's the sickest person he'd ever seen in his career. he works with her and turns out the traumatic event triggered a severe case of lupus and her immune system was attacking her nerves and brainstem. after decades of living like this she starts to "wake up" under strenuous and experimental immunosuppresant treatment. true detective makes this connection between disease and the mysterious machinations that produce horror, evil, sin, god or whatever framework any given character uses to describe it. characters illustrate exploitation and abuse in the same breath as disease and medicine. dora lang's mother saying "why would a father not bathe his child?" moments before a migraine that makes her wail, one that came from the chemicals she inhaled at work, which also wrecked her hands. marie fontenot's uncle having a "cerebral event", a series of strokes. dora lang's addiction making her an easy target, "chum in the water". hell, even the man at the revival tent, "they gave me bad medicine. I paid for that." and kelly's state after being trapped in that trailer being catatonia, looking a lot like many people with severe autoimmune reactions. the natural world is, in a sense, chum in the water for whatever cosmic horror lays out there. on the larger scale, the various hurricanes are an ultra present detail of the story at any point in time. the hurricane's make it easier for the men their chasing to pick off victims and dump them, making them appear like victims of flooding or exposure. the hurricanes are the excuse tuttle immediately starts setting up when rust probes at the christian schools. it keeps erasing these people, erasing their records in damage, killing them or covering their killings. sometimes I'm reminded of that phrase, "when there's violence in your home, it seems even the house takes sides" how the natural -- or visible -- world we live in feel like it sides with violence we experience at the hands of both our own, and at the hands of this cosmic, spiritual bigness we struggle to wrap our minds around. in twin peaks fire walk with me, laura palmer looks at the ceiling fan at the top of her stairs and it seems like this three eyed creature watching from up there. and when it spins she knows she'll be assaulted that night. the house takes sides. a hurricane takes credit for the killing the women these men hunted.

I've completely left the topic, but in terms of rust's characterization, he wants to see this cosmic animal that connects the natural world, and he feels specifically indebted to those trapped in the cycle that will lead them always back to men who will abuse and kill them every time. for dora lang it starts with her father, then her husband marks her for death by sharing pictures of her naked to the cellmate he knew was dangerous. beth runs from her uncle. kelly, unreachable, can't remember "the giant" without living it again. he doesn't believe he's helping them at all, he believes it's his debt. he doesn't think he helped kelly, likely the only person he could be argued to have helped. while true detective is tonally unlike the average detective show in many ways, I think it's intentional that there is no active victim to save in the end. the network tv detective show, or the copaganda shows of the past two decades, like criminal minds and whatever else usually have a current victim to save, always at the last minute. in true detective, this is kelly. but in true detective we don't see her until it's already over, and it was not a show down, it was clumsy, stupid, and abject. and they never knew she was there, she wasn't even reported missing. she's rescued in '92 because we need visit her ten years later to understand how she couldn't be saved from what already happened. there is no "happy ending" because she can neither unlive this, nor has it ended. when they catch her captor in 2012, he's alone in a maze, no one to rush to safety except for rust himself.

and they don't "get their guy" either. it's pretty clear that the men they're allowed to stop are only the ones on the fringes: impoverished, felons, addicts, at the edge of society. the men in power are also guilty of these murders -- the mayor, his family, the head of an evangelical institution, clergy -- but they're not allowed to be stopped. so rust and marty are allowed to catch white trash ledoux and the abominable offshoot incestuous childress, but not the men within their society that do the same things as them. so can they really help anyone when they're only allowed to go after avatars of this violence, and not the ones responsible for a legacy of violence?

by the end his thinking has been changed by his new belief that death is the end -- he finally is lurched into that great cosmic blackness, and recognizes it; calls it daughter, father. as he dies he feels an entirely different existence that will allow him to release into nothingness, and he comes away no longer believing that all these people will be reborn into the same life, doomed to go through all the suffering of life again and again. he welcomes it. in short, he believes those who have died found peace, and this allows him to accept the possibility that all is not lost. we're trapped into a cycle of violence, exploitation, degradation, and disease as long as we live, but living does have it's night; in the end, everything will be undone.

[cassidymb121]

OMG It’s You…

Youtube! Fem reader x Stray Kids

Summary: Y/N’s YouTube channel is taking off after her reactions to Stray Kids MV God’s Menu. Now she’s making videos nonstop along with working a full time job. What would happen if she got offered a job of a lifetime and met the boys of her succession?

⚠️ Warning ⚠️: overthinking, anxiety, undeserving, frustration, fatigue

🏷️: @laylasbunbunny @weirdowithaphone @silverstarburst @jusanontstuff @anxiousskylar @drewsandsebastianswife @amararosesblog @niaalove (taglist open)

Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

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Y/N’s POV

I don’t think people understand just how exhausting life can be. ‘Not to mention expensive too.’ I thought to myself. When I got home I greeted my family before dumping my stuff by the front door then headed to my room. I collapsed on the bed and let out a huge sigh. I didn’t want to get up because of how exhausted I was but I needed to edit some of my videos I’ve made in the last couple of days. I dreaded doing it because I lost some of my footage due to me falling asleep at the computer. How I did it exactly is a mystery to me. All I know is I tried to find it and it wasn’t there.

I got up and started moving about the room. I needed to get changed and get a shower before I started working. As I was in the shower I started reflecting on my YouTube channel. I’m an introvert as most people would say. I don’t socialize much with others unless I’m at work where I have to, but I usually mind my own business. Unless I hear gossip then I’m interested. I debated whether if it was a good idea to start a channel since I didn’t think I was very entertaining.

You see I grew up in the South where I listened to Country music along with some Pop and occasional Hip Hop or R&B. When I first heard K-pop music it was odd at first but over time I came to really enjoy it. Which brings me to where I am now, listening to K-pop music and rating the group’s albums from my perspective and reacting to videos of them being silly. Stray Kids found their way into my heart one day and since then they’ve become a part of my life.

After getting refreshed, I go into the kitchen to find something to eat since my stomach made a gurgling noise. I decided on a sandwich and some chips. After making my food I head back to my room and start up my computer and monitors. It’s been a little over a year now since I started this channel. I knew from the start that doing a reaction channel probably wouldn’t go viral right away, but after some time more people started to find my channel and following me. Especially after my reaction to God’s Menu MV. Call it the Felix effect if you would. Even to the point where they were excited for new videos to come out.

I always worried that people wouldn’t like my videos, but then I would see all the positive comments and smile that I made someone’s day better. I used that positivity to keep me going, doesn’t mean that I didn’t get hate here or there. Although there are a bunch of people who stood up for me. That would always make my day better.

‘Focus Y/N. You still have to finish these two videos so you can start making more for next week.’ I shook my head and got working on my videos that I already recorded. ‘I need to re-record what I deleted so that I can finish editing this video.” I got to work on the one I didn’t mess up first before going to the second one. I pulled my camera towards me and turning it on. I pulled up the previous videos I had watched from that evening before doing my intro.

“Hello Lovelies and welcome back to the channel. So, as you will see I’m dressed different from my previous video. Reason being is that I deleted some footage and now I’m having to re-record where I left off. So, let’s get started shall we.”

——————————————————————

Third Person POV

The boys were taking a small break from practice. They’ve been going at it for days it seemed like, even if it were only a couple of hours. Things were picking up since their comeback was coming up soon. As each one of them found a place to relax, Felix was watching a video on YouTube.

“How many times have you watched that same video?” Felix looked up to see his other half looking at his screen with his eyebrows raised. “I can’t help it. She’s very relatable, super sweet, and I love her accent. Plus she’s beautiful and has gorgeous y/e/c eyes.” Hyunjin sits down beside Felix. “Okay okay I get it, you love everything about Y/N. It’s not like you’re the only one though.” Hyunjin takes a moment to look at the rest of his members. “We all have seen her videos and like her just the same as you, if not more.” Felix sighs. “I know. I guess some days I enjoy watching her videos because they make me smile. Especially when some days are harder than others. Her videos comfort me like a warm hug on a cold day.” Felix smiles thinking about it while Hyunjin smiles at him, understanding where he comes from.

He remembers when they first found Y/N’s videos. During Chan’s room, there were some Stays that told Chan to look her up and watch her videos. It didn’t happen right away but Stays were persistent on them watching her, so they finally watched one of her videos just to see what their fans were talking about. One video turned into three videos then seven videos, up until the point where they had seen all of her videos. Some might say that Stray Kids themselves love Y/N’s videos more than Stays. Each member has there own favorite episodes of Y/N as well as their favorite qualities of her. Chan likes how motherly she acts, especially when it comes to Stays asking her questions on certain topics. Lee Minho likes how she can understand and speak Korean. Even go as far as to have subtitles in Korean for people who don’t understand English that well.

Changbin likes her laugh, especially when its uncontrollable laughter. It makes him want to laugh with her. Hyunjin likes how creative she can be with her edits. Like when she adds in all these cool effects or audio cues that make the video even more engaging. Han Jisung likes how uncharacteristically funny she can be without trying. Felix like her smile, he thinks it’s her most charming point. Seungmin likes her sassy/blunt side. He thinks that’s the funniest part of her personality. Jeongin likes her whole personality in general. He knows he could see her as an older sister if he ever met her.

Hyunjin turns back to Felix “I believe that’s exactly how Stays feel seeing videos of us too. We’ve seen them express it through messages and videos. So I get where you’re coming from.” He pats Felix’s knee and moves to go back over to his original spot.

“SHE JUST POSTED A NEW VIDEO!” All of the boys looked in the direction of the voice they heard. All scrambling to get over to Changbin who had called them. “Well what are you waiting for? Play the video!” Lee Know shouts as Changbin presses play on his phone.

(Terrible title but it’s all I could come up with lol. Hope you all like it! I’m trying something new so who knows how far I’ll go with this one. I’ll try to update as much as I can. Thanks!)

[xanasaurusrex]

hi can u make some hcs of hecate’s cabin/childs?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ hecate cabin headcanons ࿐ྂ

of course i can do hecate cabin headcanons! i love hecate, she's one of my favorite of the gods. also, fun fact, there's a lot of debate on where hecate originated, like they think that maybe she was an anatolian goddess that the greeks "stole," and she also has some egyptian history? i did some research on her real quick and it was honestly fascinating! anyways, here are the hecate cabin hcs!

something to note about hecate kids is that all of them, every single one, is kind of a mystery in their own respect

there's a lot of mystery surrounding hecate, so even the most open of hecate kids is going to have something they're keeping to themselves

hecate kids, specifically before they're kind of taught to master their abilities, have a habit of accidentally spelling people

like, for example, say a hecate kid has a really annoying kid in their bio class that won't shut up

if they think really hard about how much they want that person to shut their mouth, magically, they will

it's something they were never able to explain

until they were claimed by hecate, of course

they also all have dark eyes

not necessarily a good color, per se, but there's something about their eyes that are dark

most hecate kids get her green eyes, which could only be described as "enchanting" of course

the hecate cabin often smells like burned sage and/or incense, and always has a smoky hue because of that

there are star charts and moon charts and things like that literally everywhere, practically littering the cabin floor

hecate kids are kinda messy

all of them, just find it really hard to keep themselves organized enough to make the cabin organized enough

this gets them into trouble sometimes, but they have... ways of convincing whoever's inspecting the cabin to leave them alone

hecate kids also always have crystals in their pockets

like, literally, at any given time, with an outfit that has pockets, they have crystals that are used for different things in said pockets

they have necklaces and earrings and rings with crystals on them as well, all having different purposes based on what they want their day to be like

there are a few kids at camp who are like "crystals don't even work" and blah blah blah, but the hecate kids know better

the kids that say that are usually idiots, but yknow

(obviously i'm not saying that if you don't believe in crystals irl you're an idiot, but this is camp half-blood and their mother is hecate, so obviously they're gonna work for them)

hecate kids can sometimes be known as "two-faced" when it comes to relationships

this probably comes from the fact that their mother has three faces

except this is a more literal meaning in this sense

the hecate cabin also does a lot of tarot readings

that's like, one of the first things you learn at camp if you're claimed by hecate

everyone has their own deck, and it's customized to you, it's a whole thing

it's like hecate cabin culture kinda

if you have a hecate child friend, you've probably gotten your future read by them at one point

obviously future-telling is more an apollo cabin thing, so the predictions usually aren't correct, but it's fun anyways

ooh! and ouija boards

ouija boards with the hecate kids are so fun because they get so into it, and usually it's actually working and they're actually talking to a dead person

i mean, it's camp half-blood

probably a lot of people have died there (rip)

it's especially fun if they can manage to convince a hades child to play with them, because then the hades kid can actually hear them and help translate if the ouija boards are being kinda confusing

it's not the most reliable way to talk to a dead person, as any hades kid will tell you

hecate kids are also avid readers

not as consistent as athena kids, but they have their own little library in the hecate cabin, with lots of fantasy books and historical fiction

they're also really good with recommendations, so if you ever need a book rec, honestly go to the hecate kids first

they take your personality and reading background into account when giving you a book rec, and pretty much every time, whatever they recommend, you're actually going to enjoy

hecate kids also make the worst chariots

when they do the chariot race (i'm not sure if this is actually something they do on a regular basis, but they did it in one of the books in the original series so i'm going with it), and every cabin has to make their own chariot, hecate makes the worst chariots and get out first almost every time

honestly it doesn't really bother them anymore because they just genuinely have no idea how to make a good chariot

hecate isn't exactly known for her fighting abilities

usually in battle, the hecate kids stay as far away as possible and use their magic to help the fight

hecate kids are also criminally indecisive

they’re the masters of eenie meanie miny moe

they’re also known to have coins always rattling around in their pocket because sometimes they have to flip a coin to make a decision

they also have lots of magic 8 balls even though they know they’re faulty

(faulty, not fake 😉)

moving on

hecate kids also really like tim burton movies

it might have something to do with the fact that tim burton is a hecate child, but they also just really like the movies

they give off the same vibe

(there is a rumor at hecate cabin that tim burton used some hecate baby magic to make his movies)

only occasionally though

so yeah, that’s all i have for hecate kids

they’re all super unique and interesting

they are definitely sort of strange, but that’s what makes them so cool!

sorry if that was awkward i never know how to end these things

so that’s it for hecate cabin hcs! i had so much fun writing this, and thanks so much for the request! i just wanted to say thank you to everybody liking and following and reblogging for the support, this is already so fun! i have a couple requests for different cabin headcanons and that i haven’t been able to get to because ive had to rewrite this one about three times, which is kinda frustrating, but i love how that turned out! thanks sm for reading!

[adamarks]

The thing is. Not gonna put this on fox’s post bc it’s a tangent. Anyway the thing is Ed and Stede are kinda codependent? What they are, though, is a) two animals who have pair bonded and b) ed seems to have more of an actual clinical depiction of codependency.

The big thing about codependency is that it’s not actually “one partner keeps the other partner good and pure and keeps them from being Mean and Bad.🥺” Codependency’s whole thing is control. It’s a saviour complex. And THE THING IS? It doesn’t work. You cannot “save” a person from being themself, from engaging in their addiction, from hurting themself. They need to make the executive decision to change, the codependent person cannot do that for them. Thus it becomes a cycle. Try to save -> see that they’re not doing what you want -> get angry/upset/punish yourself for not succeeding/sink with them -> rinse and repeat.

Izzy? Now HE is codependent on Ed. You can be codependent on someone who is perfectly fine. He tries to control Ed’s every move, doesn’t succeed, and inevitably gets angry. If you pick up an on god actual textbook, or like any Melody Beattie book, you will see that he is the very definition of codependency.

Cycling back to Ed, though. I do think he’s codependent. You don’t kill your alcoholic father to protect your mother. We don’t mysteriously never see his mother again and know that he went to sea at a young age for no reason. He tried to save her, it backfired. A woman telling her child that they’ll never have better because god decided they’d be miserable is not ready to be saved, is not ready to get out of an abusive situation.

Then, of course, there’s Jack. Jack is eternally getting Ed to do shit for him. To help him because he’s so helpless uwu or whatever. A douchebag who can’t seem to take care of himself and is on the hunt for someone to cater to him??? Mmm yummy! A codependent’s dream! In the episode, he caters to Jack’s every whim, makes excuses for him, and finally does the “sinking with him” thing when he inevitably pushes too far. This is partly because of Jack’s manipulation, partly because that’s what Ed’s family situation had been.

Now that we’ve established all of that, back to my original point: you don’t stop being codependent just because you get into a healthy relationship. I’m certain that a small part of the breakup era sads was that yet again he’d done something huge, sacrificed something big, and his efforts had gone wholly unwanted, just like what he’d done for his mom. And then there’s that fear. Ed knows the power that people he loves have over him. He knows how he acts in love! He knows how much it hurt when Stede left him! It makes sense, then, that he would run away when he sees Stede doing something he’s not too keen on (going full pirate party animal when Ed doesn’t want to be a pirate anymore). It’s fantastic that he’s running away though! He’s not doing shit he doesn’t want to do to humor Stede like he did with Jack. He’s not trying to force Stede to change directions. He’s not trying to control the situation! He’s seeing that he’s freaking out and he’s removing himself. Albeit poorly, but this is a step closer to being able to actually communicate things. He realizes he’s the variable he can change in dynamics.

So to close up, yeah the relationship is maybe a little codependent but not in the way people seem like to say? It’s codependent in that Ed has codependency issues and those will inevitably crop up in any deeply intimate relationship you’re in. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be in a relationship. It doesn’t mean that the relationship is bad or unhealthy. It just means you’re a human person with shit to work on.

[rnakamura22]

Yandere Lillia Vanrouge

prefect is female!

The mysterious former general of the army of the Briar Valley 700 year old vampire fairy. Vice dorm leader of Diasomnia.

He thought his love ended with Malleus’s mom, the princess he swore to protect.

But then, you came along. A complete opposite direction of who he used to love. You were fragile, unable to use magic, kind and always looking out for others, bold and fearless, and far from the spectrum when it comes to throwing tantrums or being prideful and selfish because let’s be real. The princess was not the best gal when it came to listening to people or thinking about the consequences. We have to say it. She tried to make pranks on the Queen’s wand for god damn sake!

From Lillia’s eyes, you were like a baby. 16 year old!? That’s a baby! And yet you work hard so much despite the hardships you have to endure, amusing and kind , and not to mention mesmerizing and pretty! He had competition when it come to you for sure, but Lilia could feel the love burning in his heart. He had second thoughts about the age gap though. (I mean, what will happen at you and his kid’s parent and teacher conferences or field days?) But he put that aside. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it!

Lilia starts popping up in your daily lives, helping you with homework, and coming to Ramshackle Dorm to talk with you. Being a rather cute appearance for a guy,(Let’s face it, he’s cute and pretty)it’s easier to let down your guard with him.

that’s where the villain comes into the picture. He starts manipulating you, controlling your schedule, who you talk to, spreading rumors about you, and maybe casting a few spells to keep off pests. Soon, Lilia is all you can think about.

A way back home? That’s uncertain and dangerous! The risk is too horrible to consider! Lilia is determined to keep you safe and sound. He puts all bad things out of the way(AKA mess with your memories by magic), and smile cutely when you confess to him.

“To think I get a cute lover at this age! Life truly surprise me!”

Lilia cares about you, never puts you aside, and swear to protect you. He’s a fae, and faes are possessive. You could never outrun him, and he will never lose you, and Lilia will do whatever it takes to prove that.

[xjulixred45x]

Can I please request the female douma in hasbin hotel I just saw the new trailer and thought about my favourite demon lazy demon .

Ohhhh, Hazbin Hotel! That pretty cool! Deal ;)

Thanks for the Request ❤️

Hazbin Hotel x Douma Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: neutral

Warnings: Douma itself is a Warnings (Cults, cannibalism), Hell, Alastor, mentions of alcohol, long work.

You died during the Taisho era, in Japan. having lived a fairly long and…full life, so to speak.

You were born with a unique appearance! with Rainbow irises that made you extremely popular in the area where you lived.

So much so that the people in your family believed that you had a special gift for speaking with the gods, so they formed a cult around you.

without knowing that in this way they would be awakening the darker side of your being.

As you grew up, being worshiped by the cult your parents had made, you couldn't really learn to differentiate emotions, which was frustrating. You wanted to feel SOMETHING, anything. have the experience.

and you tried everything.

do good things, do bad things, help the cult people with words you didn't really mean, scam, hurt, hurt animals, hurt yourself, hurt others in multiple ways, etc.

Even if they generated a certain feeling of emotion in you, you wouldn't say that they filled you up.

until you decided to try killing certain disciples and eating them to get rid of them.

and it was a success!You finally started to feel the emotions that others talked so much about!

Although of course, not all good things come for free, when you died there was no doubt that you would fall to hell, and so it was.

Honestly, You were very surprised to have fallen into hell, not because you didn't deserve it, but because you were an atheist all your life, believing that everything you preached was a lie.

And it turns out that it was true?? How curious.

but it didn't mean you wouldn't take advantage of your new playground.

With your natural charm, your unique and striking appearance (almost the same as you were when you were human) you were able to convince several low-ranking demons to trust you with their souls, rising in rank exponentially.

To make it easier for you, with your demon abilities you created a place similar to what your cult was like, there you could more easily control the people who gave you their souls.

In record time you became an Overlord. one quite well known but very mysterious. One that had a striking appearance and powers, but was rarely seen.

You could do anything you wanted in hell! which made the scope of your misdeeds increase exponentially, you couldn't be happier!

If we're talking about interacting with Hazbin Hotel's rl cast, of course you did! You were somewhat curious to know how Lucifer's daughter's attempt at humanitarian aid would fail. Also, bother Alastor? You are in!

Technically you already knew Alastor, you two died at similar times (you died before) and you saw how he rose very strongly among the Overlords, you liked him.

Unfortunately Alastor did not enjoy your company in the least, precisely because it made it very difficult for him to read you, either because of your lack of GENUINE emotion or because, like him, you used the trick of always having a smiling and pleasant facade.

Still, of course, he would rather be killed again than admit that.

But it was really a shame, he found some aspects of you pleasant.

For example, your taste in Canibal cuisine, Alasror recognized that you had good taste in that aspect.

Apart from that, you came from a VERY rich culture and spoke fluently in both English and Japanese, which was a great sight. Alastor normally wouldn't think that someone (at first glance) so airheaded would be able to speak a language like that so fluently.

but he is definitely something like your Akaza.

I mean, every time you push him out enough, Alastor will use Elrich magic on you and destroy you in the most grotesque ways possible.

That's until he realizes that you like it when he does that! That you make him hurt you on purpose because you're a masochistic son of a bitch!

The worst thing is that he doesn't realize this until Husk tells him...having already known you for years.

Speaking of, Husk doesn't trust you, not in the slightest.

he thinks you're a freak, a second Alastor but even worse, at least Alastor is honest about how horrible he is unlike you.

He serves you drinks when you ask, but if he can, he throws the glass directly in your eye or head, simply because he can. for your delight.

He is quicker to realize your intentions than the average person, and if he realizes that you want to turn one of the hotel members into your "dinner" he is drawing the cards SO FAST---

lots of offensive nicknames, to counteract the "affectionate" nicknames you give to people you know.

Don't touch it or ask it by surprise. Have you seen how cats do when they step on their tail? that's Husk when you surprise him.

Charlie...she's insecure about you.

and she feels BAD about it! She is supposed to be impartial and that everyone deserves a chance to change their ways! but you...well, it's you.

Charlie is not so naive, when more than one member of the Staff warns her that you are bad news, she is considerate of them and tries to make you leave, they have already had incidents with Overlords before, she wants to believe that you are different.

but it proves quite quickly that not when you show your more... somber side.

She tries to be cautious, failing miserably because she wants to know everything about you. You are someone very interesting!

Charlie definitely didn't have much of an idea who you were when she met you, your name did ring any bells, but she didn't think it was that important ---

until you casually blurted out the information that you had a fucking cult.

and that you eat demons.

FROM THE SAME FUCKING CULT YOU HAVE.

There Charlie decides to put into practice everything given in "setting boundaries" and tells you that although she likes how... you liven up the atmosphere of the hotel (and the air conditioning in some way) she DEFINITELY does not want to associate with you having Alastor.

if she KNOWS that you are trying to do something against the hotel or any of the staff members (especially Vaggie)...ohohoho buddy, prepare yourself for an ANGRY Charlie ready to show you WHO'S THE BOSS HERE.

(She definitely tries to get several members of your cult to go to the hotel with her to protect them from you).

You get on Vaggie's nerves. A Lot.

not only because you cool everything you touch, but because you are very similar to Alastor.

She knows you're hiding something, that you want something from them but she can't get it out of you easily, so she's content to just watch you from a distance and make sure you don't mess with anyone.

VERY PROTECTIVE WITH EVERYONE WHEN YOU ARE THERE, it increases the hotel's defenses by 130% and keeps you away from where others are.

You definitely like to annoy her by calling her names that are too friendly for your type of relationship or even using her as an armrest. In these types of cases you usually receive a few good punches in the ribs or a headbutt.

If you try to get too close, she applies the pilot's weapon to you, that is, she takes out her angelic spear and threatens you with a lot of violence. cursing you in Spanish in the process.

She's not as intimidated by you as she is by Alastor, but she definitely doesn't think you're safer for any reason.

less after finding out what you do with the people in your cult.

good luck keeping Vaggie from killing you!

Angel Dust is scared of you, like, really scared.

It's not because you're similar to Alastor, or because you're a Cannibal, or because you're a powerful Overlord. not at all.

It's because you are very similar to Valentino.

You pretend to be a good person, that you give a shit about what happens to the people at the hotel, but really no, it's all fake. REALLY fake.

you feel nothing.

and that terrifies him. He doesn't know how he acts around you. so Angel avoids you as much as he can, going near the fireplace since you don't like the heat, or near Husk.

he keeps making jokes at your expense, but it's really his way of handling the situation.

apart from the fact that Angel genuinely thinks you're pathetic, because you couldn't find any other way to enjoy your life and another life other than hurting people.

that's pathetic.

Yes, she won't let you be near the most vulnerable residents, like Niffty (when she's drunk) and she definitely won't let you be near Fatt Nuggets.

Try him and he will show you what he lived by while he was alive.

Niffty isn't scared of you in the slighleast.

In fact she is attracted to you on many levels, but Alastor will NEVER LET you be even a kilometer close to her in his presence.

In fact, there is a high possibility that you and her will secretly become friends, but Niffty better take care of herself around you.

She makes you use your ice powers so she can make things in the snow, snow angels, dolls, kill bugs with snow picks, etc.

she likes you and you like her :) surprisingly.

Sir Pentious is quite similar to Angel with you.

Sir Pentious is very aware of your reputation as a fearsome Overlord and definitely does not want to join the list of victims with his Eggboys, so he stays as far away from you as possible.

He has tried to make inventions resistant to your frozen currents, since it costs Charlie quite a few resources (because you don't pay a shit for what you break, you cheapskate) and certain artifacts that counteract your ice powers.

He brings several of his smoke machines to the hotel when he knows you're coming to visit (and if you come as a surprise, most likely everyone will hide in Pentious's warship because it's very hot in there.

Yes, he doesn't let his Ehgboys be near you in the slightest, he tells them horror stories with you like the big egg-eating monster.

and if you try something with his Minions PREPARE FOR THE DEATH RAY--

In general, you are a pain in the ass for everyone, everyone, always :)

^when they find out You come to visit

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Thanks for the Request ❤️

[mrsackermannx]

lies | ino takuma

tags: angry (argument) sex, intruder role play, unprotected sex, sorcerer ino/non-sorcerer girlfriend, degradation kink, soft ending, not beta read.

authors note: @p00pdev1l jazz i meant to send this to you on asks and then it got super long but i swoon at the thought of being ino’s non- sorcerer gf idk there’s something about it didbdksjsksj. ive not uploaded any writing for so long bc there’s sm different ways and things i want to write and idk how to start idk…this lowkey is it i suppose. i miss writing hehe been so busy but yeh ENJOY MY DEPRAVITY.

- - -

You love your life with Ino, and he loves his life with you. No matter what a curse throws at him, he knows as soon as he sees you at the end of the day that it’ll all be worth it.

But it’s one night that he comes home especially roughed up…

You’re watching TV, but you hear him shuffling into your apartment, carefully locking up behind him, taking off his shoes. “Hello pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice almost hoarse. He leans over you to kiss your forehead. “I'm off to bed, you should too…”

You’re tired of the whispering phone calls, the leaving you to run away god knows where in the middle of dinner, you’re sick of not being able to tell your friends what Ino does exactly?

All these lies, all this mystery. You call him out on it and it leads to a fight…

It’s your sharp, “I’ve been waiting up for you,” that hits him right in the gut.

“Baby, I tell you not to.”

“Tell me?”

“i meant ask, baby,” his voice lowers, almost breaking from exhaustion. He's so close to snapping. Too close.“I mean ask—so-please, not now.”

His usually sunny demeanour is all gone. He’s working so hard for the recognition of so many people, you being one of them. He wants to be good enough, he wants to exorcise as many curses as he can. He has his own goals, his own vision of the future he wants you in. But he’s so fucking exhausted right now.

He’s not usually like this, he’s usually so reactive it’s almost unbearable. So you push and push.

“I don't even know what you do. What kind of guy are you? Who have I been dating-“

“What. What did you just say?”

You blink twice.

He’s never raised his voice at you like this before. It’s not that it scares you but it ignites something in you, stroking something dark and shameful.

He cages you against the wall, glaring at you. He smells like Ino, looks like Ino, caramel hair tousled and tucked behind each ear. As usual, so devastatingly, boyishly handsome, but his energy is sharper, his grin gone.

“Telling me you don’t know who I am? Huh? Then why the fuck do you let me inside you every night when I come home? If I’m so bad? If I’m this bad guy you don’t know? You let a stranger touch you? Huh?”

“Takuma-“

He gives you such a pointed stare your words escape you. One arm cages you below him whilst the other cups your chin. “You think I’m some kind of bad guy? Don’t you know me by now? Haven’t we been through enough?”

This is necessary communication, he knows it, you know it. But that doesn’t stop the suffocating tension crackling between you two any less bearable.

“I know you’re a good guy, in how you treat me, who you are, but I have no idea who you are sometimes and it’s— it’s, something that i-i…”

You’re getting choked up, but you’re also overheating. Ino is never like this, never so the opposite of himself, never so full of darkness and not his light.

But you guessed it was a good thing you weren’t afraid of the dark, or the man you loved so dearly in front of you.

“What?”

“-it scares me,” you blurt.

“But you like being scared.”

His voice is rough, teetering on the line between restraint and pure lust. He's neither asking nor stating.

“You like it when I come home in the dead of night.” He cups your pussy, your silk nightdress bunching against his palm, he clicks his tongue at the heat. “Sneaking in beside you, you practically baring your pussy for me to use, abuse and—fuck, until you’re begging for more, and more-“

“Takuma,” you whimper into his chest, he smells so like him, he strokes through your hair like he always does, so full of love. He’s holding your most intimate part of you like he owns you, you suppose he does. You suppose you’ve been in the palm of his hand from the moment you met him.

“Not so innocent then are you? When you’re taking my cock in your cunt in the middle of the night? Begging for it, begging for me to wreck this tight little-“

“Takuma! Please.”

He alternates pressure on your clit, over and over, feeling your drip down his fingers.

“I bet you’d like my mask too? Wouldn’t you?”

His hand wraps around your throat, contrasting the way his thumb was smoothing across your jaw. You always felt so special with Ino, like his lover, regardless of whether you were fighting.

“What mask?” Your voice was so shaky you barely recognised it. His hand mapped down his torso to his pocket. Then he slipped on a black mask with nothing but holes for his eyes. “So, this? This is who you are?”

He hated this. He hated you thinking he was some bad guy, some good for nothing criminal.

“Who do you want me to be?” he edged closer, his voice slow and dripping with something dangerous, something that made your pupils dilate, and your pulse run.

“How about tonight I be the bad guy you want me to be,” he drawled. His hands skimmed up and down your sides, admiring…staking their claim on what was beneath them.

“Take me, Takuma.”

A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Fuck you?” he shoved his knee between your thighs, “Or take you?” He squeezed your neck until you moaned, “You and your control? Your body? Your soul.”

“Both.”

It was a blur before you processed that Ino had you flipped against the wall. That he was already brushing your entrance with his cock and then teasing you against it. The head of him almost slipped in, over and over. But he had you flailing and whimpering like a desperate mess instead.

“Shush now, pretty girl. I don’t care if your boyfriend comes home. I’m using this cunt as my own anyway.”

“Oh my—fuck.”

That was it. Your control, your pain, you let it all go. You let it free, you let the wild throbbing in your core take over. You would have fallen to the floor without the wall and Ino standing firm behind you. You gave into your sinful desires.

He trailed his hands down your body, then in a movement so unexpected you cried out as he tore apart your night dress. “Let's hope your boyfriend doesn’t come home to you getting fucked like this, angel.”

He thrusts into you in one brutal slam. “Fuck I love ruining good girls like you,” he sounded so undone that it had you close to breaking, moaning with every slam into your pussy.

“Your cunts are made to be broken into like this, waiting for every drop of cum, squeezing me so tight like that. Fluttering on cock that you’ve been craving so badly, you—pretty —little—slut.”

It’s a primal fucking, and Ino seems to take everything out on you, but you submit so easily you’re succumbing to pleasure you’ve never felt. The things he says are dark and twisted, but the way he holds you is anything but, he holds you like you’re precious, even if he calls you his slut, to him you’re his angel.

When you start to match his rhythm, bucking out your hips to take in more of him, he comes so powerfully you feel his tears slide your back. Panting and groaning out your name, “I love you,” his voice shakes, and he’s breathless as he locks you in his arms.

“You’re so precious to me. More than my own life. More than any goal. I’ll tell you anything, and everything.”

You’re overcome, reeling from your orgasm, but nevertheless you accept his embrace just as tight. “I love you, Takuma.”

“I love you,” he chants, for a while. Until you’re sleeping, bodies coiled together, his hand in your hair. And it feels good. Too good to have finally told you everything.