#newsfeed sorting

[mariacallous]

A lawsuit filed Wednesday against Meta argues that US law requires the company to let people use unofficial add-ons to gain more control over their social feeds.

It’s the latest in a series of disputes in which the company has tussled with researchers and developers over tools that give users extra privacy options or that collect research data. It could clear the way for researchers to release add-ons that aid research into how the algorithms on social platforms affect their users, and it could give people more control over the algorithms that shape their lives.

The suit was filed by the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University on behalf of researcher Ethan Zuckerman, an associate professor at the University of Massachusetts—Amherst. It attempts to take a federal law that has generally shielded social networks and use it as a tool forcing transparency.

Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act is best known for allowing social media companies to evade legal liability for content on their platforms. Zuckerman’s suit argues that one of its subsections gives users the right to control how they access the internet, and the tools they use to do so.

“Section 230 (c) (2) (b) is quite explicit about libraries, parents, and others having the ability to control obscene or other unwanted content on the internet,” says Zuckerman. “I actually think that anticipates having control over a social network like Facebook, having this ability to sort of say, ‘We want to be able to opt out of the algorithm.’”

Zuckerman’s suit is aimed at preventing Facebook from blocking a new browser extension for Facebook that he is working on called Unfollow Everything 2.0. It would allow users to easily “unfollow” friends, groups, and pages on the service, meaning that updates from them no longer appear in the user’s newsfeed.

Zuckerman says that this would provide users the power to tune or effectively disable Facebook’s engagement-driven feed. Users can technically do this without the tool, but only by unfollowing each friend, group, and page individually.

There’s good reason to think Meta might make changes to Facebook to block Zuckerman’s tool after it is released. He says he won’t launch it without a ruling on his suit. In 2020, the company argued that the browser Friendly, which had let users search and reorder their Facebook news feeds as well as block ads and trackers, violated its terms of service and the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act. In 2021, Meta permanently banned Louis Barclay, a British developer who had created a tool called Unfollow Everything, which Zuckerman’s add-on is named after.

“I still remember the feeling of unfollowing everything for the first time. It was near-miraculous. I had lost nothing, since I could still see my favorite friends and groups by going to them directly,” Barclay wrote for Slate at the time. “But I had gained a staggering amount of control. I was no longer tempted to scroll down an infinite feed of content. The time I spent on Facebook decreased dramatically.”

The same year, Meta kicked off from its platform some New York University researchers who had created a tool that monitored the political ads people saw on Facebook. Zuckerman is adding a feature to Unfollow Everything 2.0 that allows people to donate data from their use of the tool to his research project. He hopes to use the data to investigate whether users of his add-on who cleanse their feeds end up, like Barclay, using Facebook less.

Sophia Cope, staff attorney at the Electronic Frontier Foundation, a digital rights group, says that the core parts of Section 230 related to platforms’ liability for content posted by users have been clarified through potentially thousands of cases. But few have specifically dealt with the part of the law Zuckerman’s suit seeks to leverage.

“There isn’t that much case law on that section of the law, so it will be interesting to see how a judge breaks it down,” says Cope. Zuckerman is a member of the EFF’s board of advisers.

John Morris, a principal at the Internet Society, a nonprofit that promotes open development of the internet, says that, to his knowledge, Zuckerman’s strategy “hasn’t been used before, in terms of using Section 230 to grant affirmative rights to users,” noting that a judge would likely take that claim seriously.

Meta has previously suggested that allowing add-ons that modify how people use its services raises security and privacy concerns. But Daphne Keller, director of the Program on Platform Regulation at Stanford's Cyber Policy Center, says that Zuckerman’s tool may be able to fairly push back on such an accusation.“The main problem with tools that give users more control over content moderation on existing platforms often has to do with privacy,” she says. “But if all this does is unfollow specified accounts, I would not expect that problem to arise here."

Even if a tool like Unfollow Everything 2.0 didn’t compromise users’ privacy, Meta might still be able to argue that it violates the company’s terms of service, as it did in Barclay’s case.

“Given Meta’s history, I could see why he would want a preemptive judgment,” says Cope. “He’d be immunized against any civil claim brought against him by Meta.”

And though Zuckerman says he would not be surprised if it takes years for his case to wind its way through the courts, he believes it’s important. “This feels like a particularly compelling case to do at a moment where people are really concerned about the power of algorithms,” he says.

[reasonsforhope]

No-paywall version.

"You can never really see the future, only imagine it, then try to make sense of the new world when it arrives.

Just a few years ago, climate projections for this century looked quite apocalyptic, with most scientists warning that continuing “business as usual” would bring the world four or even five degrees Celsius of warming — a change disruptive enough to call forth not only predictions of food crises and heat stress, state conflict and economic strife, but, from some corners, warnings of civilizational collapse and even a sort of human endgame. (Perhaps you’ve had nightmares about each of these and seen premonitions of them in your newsfeed.)

Now, with the world already 1.2 degrees hotter, scientists believe that warming this century will most likely fall between two or three degrees. (A United Nations report released this week ahead of the COP27 climate conference in Sharm el Sheikh, Egypt, confirmed that range.) A little lower is possible, with much more concerted action; a little higher, too, with slower action and bad climate luck. Those numbers may sound abstract, but what they suggest is this: Thanks to astonishing declines in the price of renewables, a truly global political mobilization, a clearer picture of the energy future and serious policy focus from world leaders,

we have cut expected warming almost in half in just five years.

...Conventional wisdom has dictated that meeting the most ambitious goals of the Paris agreement by limiting warming to 1.5 degrees could allow for some continuing normal, but failing to take rapid action on emissions, and allowing warming above three or even four degrees, spelled doom.

Neither of those futures looks all that likely now, with the most terrifying predictions made improbable by decarbonization and the most hopeful ones practically foreclosed by tragic delay. The window of possible climate futures is narrowing, and as a result, we are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse.

Over the last several months, I’ve had dozens of conversations — with climate scientists and economists and policymakers, advocates and activists and novelists and philosophers — about that new world and the ways we might conceptualize it. Perhaps the most capacious and galvanizing account is one I heard from Kate Marvel of NASA, a lead chapter author on the fifth National Climate Assessment: “The world will be what we make it.” Personally, I find myself returning to three sets of guideposts, which help map the landscape of possibility.

First, worst-case temperature scenarios that recently seemed plausible now look much less so, which is inarguably good news and, in a time of climate panic and despair, a truly underappreciated sign of genuine and world-shaping progress...

[I cut number two for being focused on negatives. This is a reasons for hope blog.]

Third, humanity retains an enormous amount of control — over just how hot it will get and how much we will do to protect one another through those assaults and disruptions. Acknowledging that truly apocalyptic warming now looks considerably less likely than it did just a few years ago pulls the future out of the realm of myth and returns it to the plane of history: contested, combative, combining suffering and flourishing — though not in equal measure for every group...

“We live in a terrible world, and we live in a wonderful world,” Marvel says. “It’s a terrible world that’s more than a degree Celsius warmer. But also a wonderful world in which we have so many ways to generate electricity that are cheaper and more cost-effective and easier to deploy than I would’ve ever imagined. People are writing credible papers in scientific journals making the case that switching rapidly to renewable energy isn’t a net cost; it will be a net financial benefit,” she says with a head-shake of near-disbelief. “If you had told me five years ago that that would be the case, I would’ve thought, wow, that’s a miracle.”"

-via The New York Times Magazine, October 26, 2022

[gutterfuuck]

Human!Mark with a Super-powered/Viltrumite!Reader

It’s cute he’s so possessive, as if we wouldn’t break him like a twig... 🙈

THISSSS this is incredible!! i am going crazy!!

i love this idea so much,, perhaps reader is an child of thragg. i am now putting my little headcanon in where i think that mark would have glasses and braces… real nerdy guy x girl that is only gentle with him… cute dynamic hehe!!

this is sfw since im writing a full fic currently, just some headcanons maybe to get the concept out there!! the fic will be called “the perfect girl”

cw: nothing really, as i have stated this is short, maybe a blurb? i am not sure haha,

the youngest viltrumite to be sent to conquer a planet. you’re sent to earth to take over another viltrumite’s mission that was supposedly cut short due to his untimely death. as soon as you burst onto the scene you’d had everyone’s attention; splattering kaijus like they were bugs, stopping criminals with your presence alone, saving those who were weaker, more susceptible to danger. you’re quick to rise as a favourite of the public, surpassing even the guardians in popularity.

mark meets you at a comic book signing at a con because of course he does. you’re there because you find humans interesting, that and you’d caught wind of a possible attack incoming at the event. you doubted they’d actually come along seeing as you’d made your presence known and you weren’t too kind with your beatdowns. you’d never admit it, but you found this type of media entertaining, the stories would interest you. even though you were a viltrumite, there wasn’t any law that said you couldn’t have a little bit of fun. (you also somewhat enjoyed the fame and the fanbases that had cultivated around you since you decided you didn’t need a superhero name, your name was good enough)

brown eyes stare at you through thick framed glasses, sparkling with interest and recognition, a goofy braced sideways smile forming on his face. you raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over your chest as you stared dead into his eyes. mark almost dropped the stacks of comic books he held in his arms, you were ethereal. he’d seen you on tv, you were all over the newsfeeds sometimes so you were hard to avoid. he thought you were beautiful before, thought you looked like an angel now. other people had gotten pictures with you earlier so he was sure there wouldn’t be a problem if he asked.

he got his picture but you had gotten his number, watched him walk away with pink cheeks, caught in a sort of daze. mark felt so comfortable to you, so… familiar..? maybe all humans weren’t so bad, mark was proof of that.

when you’d come over for dinner with his family one night, you’d finally worked out why. you’d never met nolan, but had heard stories about him growing up on viltrum. he’d been priming the planet for invasion but had been killed which put a cap on things until your arrival about two and a half years ago after you’d proved yourself worthy. you had the shock of your life when you sat at the table and squinted at your boyfriend’s father, heart dropping when you connected the dots. you and mark had been together for months now, you’d know if he was a viltrumite… had the great nolan faked his own death and fathered an offspring with no powers? you almost scoffed at the irony. what a tired and cowardly old man, the karma of having a child with no abilities must have been damning enough. you thought about you and mark’s potential future children and a warmth washed over you, the same warmth that made you feel all gooey and sickly sweet inside.

“tell me about your planet.” he’d say, resting his head on your shoulder as you watched the stars together, “ah, viltrum… haven’t you heard of it before?” you questioned, head tilted into his. you couldn’t wait to report back in a few years, couldn’t wait to tell everyone about how you’d found nolan and he hadn’t been killed… but mark would’ve been heartbroken. you couldn’t do that to him, not yet at least, it seemed cruel. plus, he had no idea what a viltrumite was, though your pride as a viltrumite felt attacked as you’d figured his father hadn’t even mentioned mark’s background to him.

you told tall tales about how you’d created the best civilisation, how your kind helped other planets and those less fortunate… you’d tell him the truth eventually, you’d have to seeing as you wanted to keep mark for as long as human lifespans allowed you to. he would open his mouth and his eyes would widen in awe, saying something about how you were like a character from his comic books which made you nod in turn, the conversation slowly changing to the subject of the comic book he’d been talking about. before you met mark, you would’ve probably never been able to experience life in such a human way. before it felt as if you had no sense of individuality, now it felt like you couldn’t stop being yourself even if it was a little alien to you.

[two-white-butterflies]

riptide | a. targaryen

Description: Aegon's friends wonder why he has all the coolest things, even though he doesn't have a job. Pairing: college-student!aegon/ceo!reader two

"Do you call someone a sugar mommy when they're younger than you?" Aegon scrolls on his phone, reading the thousands of messages that you sent to him. His brother's eye widens, placing the bottle of beer down the table loudly.

"So the person that your dating is a sugar mommy?" his brother insinuated, and Aegon freezes on his tracks. It was well known around the campus that he was taken, but no one knew by whom. They didn't even know if the person he was dating was a girl or a boy.

All that they knew was that they managed to leave gifts for Aegon everywhere around the campus. From flowers to handwritten notes, everyone was interested about his love-life. The professors had a running bet - some of them think that his lover is a politician, others think that they're an actress - but one thing was for certain, they didn't know who she was.

"I mean - you do change your wardrobe every season," the man pointed - staring at his brother's new coat. Aemond was a little jealous of his older brother - it must be nice to have some sort of power on your side. "It's called having flair," his brother snorts, while taking a swig of his beer.

"Flair requires money - and our father doesn't send us a lot of that." Aemond rolls his eye, reaching for his phone to scroll on his instagram. "I mean, good for you. It's hard to find money in this economy." Aemond sighs, leaning down on his chair.

He still had a few thousand dollars in his bank account - but he'd need to find a job in order to afford rent next month. "- just make sure that they're not a mafia boss, or something." the man teased, smiling as he sees a meme of Thomas Shelby on his newsfeed.

"I'd give the world if she was just a mafia boss," he mumbled, eyes drifting off to the gala that you were attending. You looked ravishing wearing that designer gown - too bad he wasn't there to dance with you, as he was occupied with another event.

"Are you following her on your instagram?" Aemond inquired - scrolling down his brother's 'following' list. Aegon's eyes narrowed, closing his phone and attempting to peek through his brother's.

"No," he lied - thinking that it would be enough to stop Aemond.

"Is she following you?" Aemond questioned - scrolling to the left to access his 'followers' list. "Can you stop stalking me?" Aegon glares and another sigh escapes his brother's mouth.

"Why can't you tell me? I tell you everything," he complained in a manner that only a little brother would. "I told you about Alys," he asserted, thinking that it would be enough to sway Aegon.

"She's a fucking cougar," Aegon cursed while rising to his feet.

"- as for my girlfriend, you'll know when we get married."

agn.high: i can't help, falling in love w/ u 💚

27 comments 2,971 likes

aemtargaryen: HINT 👀 - agn.high: she has two eyes

toelicker69: happy bday future sister-in-law 💗 - agn.high: she says thanks!! - aemtargaryen: how tf does helaena know?

Alexander_Gomez: NICE YACHT BRO 🫶🏾

Everyone was whispering behind his back - apparently a big box was brought in front of his apartment, and nobody knew what it was. "This one's big," Aemond remarked while helping his brother bring it inside their shared room. "The same thing can be said about me," Aegon joked - settling the box loudly on the floor.

He reaches for the phone on his back pocket, prepared to call you and ask what you gave him.

"Hello, baby." your melodious voice floods his senses, his stomach is filled with butterflies.

"Hey baby, I got a package - do you know what it is?" he asked, seeing no evidences of your address or name on the box.

A small laugh exits your mouth, and he could hear the chatter of the office from behind you. "You should open it baby, I got to go now." you smile while hanging up.

He places the phone back on his pockets, watching while his brother opens the box with an exacto knife. "I just hope it's not expensive enough to get robbed," Aemond crossed his fingers - lifting the top sheet of the styrofoam from the object.

A gasp escapes his mouth as he realized that it was the gaming pc that he was pining for. "Oh my god," he cursed, a smile paints his lips as he opened it further.

He made a mental note to thank you once your meeting was over.

(your name)'s story

@watercolorskyy

[arcanarix]

toji x gn! reader, toji x afab!reader, etc. || reader is insecure sometimes, toji fixes that.

Toji is adaptable. That’s ingrained in his DNA; he’s far from a creature of habit. He gets off on all kinds of thrills (yes, in and out of the bedroom). He’s the sort of person who can’t be tied down or stuck in a place for too long. That’s why he can’t hold down a typical 9 to 5 and opted for dirty money. Because he needs that high however he can get it.

Maybe the one place he seeks stability is in his relationships. You see this firsthand. After all, he’s been married before, and even checks in on his son, Megumi, from his first marriage often. 

You have to admit, it does touch your heart in a way you never thought possible before. He really is a big ole softie beneath all of that bravado he sports on the day to day. It’s likely the people he works with knows that too. Hopefully it’s not something weaponized against him later on down the line. Then that means you have a huge target slapped on your back . . . 

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if he finds you boring compared to what he does for a living and how he maintains his lifestyle. Constantly on the go, constantly staying active, never leaving things unfinished and always tying up any loose ends before he can move onto the next thing. He’s as efficient as he is proactive. 

You prefer the opposite lifestyle–something easier going, something easy, in general. After the kind of chaotic life you have led in the past, prior to meeting Toji, it’s necessary for your sanity now. 

But if Toji genuinely feels a certain type of way, he is going to tell you straight up. He’s not only a man of action. He’s a man whose words align with his actions. There’s no bullshit with him, which is a breath of fresh air considering your personal history with relationships. The fact that a guy like him is your true first healthy relationship might be something of a concern to your close friends and family . . . 

“Toji?” you murmur, as you turn over to rest on your left elbow. Aforementioned man is scrolling through his newsfeed on his smartphone, with his reading glasses and all. He looks so unthreatening in this setting. No one will guess he’s a heinous murderer . . .

Toji glances sideways to meet your eyes, immediately softening under the subdued lighting of your bedroom. Even the lighting of his phone screen is dulled, so as not to disturb your own slumber, but you haven’t fallen asleep just yet as your brain is beseeched by worries you shouldn’t have in the first place.

“Are you happy with me?” 

Toji perks an eyebrow and he places his phone on the nightstand. You notice it’s faced up, like always. His screen can light up any time with a notification.

“Are you suspecting I’m not happy, or something?” 

“No,” you lie. Toji gives you a pointed look. You deflate, clearly on the losing side in this situation. “Yes . . . “

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No! It’s nothing you did in particular. It’s just . . . what do you see in me?” I’m nothing special. Not like you. I don’t even have the guts to touch a sword or a gun or any weapon of choice when it really matters. How can I protect you as well as you protect me? We’re supposed to be a team too, right? Not just partners . . . ?

Toji looks hard in your eyes, but that expression of his doesn’t lose its softness which gives you a sense of comfort, at the very least. He brings his hand to his head, scratching his hair as if he’s racking his mind for the right words to respond to such an on the spot question. You have to admit; you feel like since you have already dug your grave, you should lie in there and let him bury you alive then and there. 

You can absolutely expect him to tell you the full and honest truth, criminal or otherwise, he’s still not a liar. So you’re not sure if you’re ready for the cold, hard truth just yet but you can’t shake this nagging feeling in your chest and you just need some reassurance. That’s not much to ask for, isn’t it?

“What isn’t there to like about you?” Toji begins, tone as soft as that mushy expression on his face. You almost can’t believe someone as cold-blooded as him can even sport an expression like that. Then again, that must be what got his first wife to stick around, right? “You’re beautiful, you’re talented, you’re strong as fuck . . . even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

“You must be full of shit if you think I’m going to fall for that sweet talking.”

“When did you ever think of me as full of shit?” 

Never, which is the problem! “You are a man of truth. Maybe not of justice, but of truth.”

Toji smirks. “I don’t play on any sides, you know. Just whoever’s on mine.”

“You know I’d never leave yours.”

“And that’s another reason to love you,” he tells you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much. It’s not good for your health.”

“Oh and what do you know about health, Mr. I Ate Five Quarter Pounders in One Sitting!?” 

“I’m a grown man! And I work out more than you!” 

“You know what–I can’t argue with that. But if I ate even a fourth as much as you, I’d be 300lbs by now.”

Toji chuckles at the idea. 

“And I’d still like you regardless.”

You can’t help the brilliant brush on your cheeks which is thankfully hidden from him. 

“Sheesh, were you always this sappy?” 

“Actually, not always. You just bring it out of me. Why, would you rather see another side of me right now?” 

“Nah,” you sneak a peck on his lips. “This is good. Besides, too tired for another round anyways. You wear me out way too much, Zenin.”

“Fushiguro,” he corrects. 

“You really have something against that clan.”

“If you had my history with them you would as well.”

“Again, I can’t really argue with that.”

You and Toji share a little smile. .

“So find anything interesting on your news feed?” you ask, peering over at his phone. Some notifications light up amid your conversation.

“Nah. Just a lot of celebrity gossip. Nothing special. Although you might like this picture of Henry Cavill I found not too long ago. It’s probably already lost in the sea of posts, but I can try to dig around for it–!” 

“--you silly, I appreciate it, but it’s not that important." You steal another kiss on his cheek. "Night, big oaf."

"Good night," he replies.

[thefirelookout]

Dead silence

This post is an attempt to share or let out some of my complex feelings about the situation in Bangladesh.

We went to our city's protest yesterday. It was a silent, peaceful protest. The Bangladeshi student community here in Kingston stood in a human chain with placards. "Save Bangladesh student", yes grammatically wrong, yes, it assumes that young revolutionaries need saving, so on and so forth. The protest started and ended quietly. My non-Bangladeshi friends were a bit confused, since they're used to chanty protests for Palestine, or union picket lines with cars passing by, honking in support. There was more noise even for the Iranian protests, Zan Zendegi Azadi. The silence of a graveyard in this one, though.

Who cares about little old Bangladesh? I sometimes wonder. We're not in the eye of the middle eastern storm like Syria, Lebanon or Palestine are. We're not strategically important, we don't even have many natural resources like Sudan or Congo do. The Prime Minister visited China recently to ask for an aid or a loan, and came back pretty much empty handed. China isn't very interested in us. India has gotten what it needed to get, and can milk more out of us, but they can do the same with Nepal or Bhutan too. We're never in the headlines, the US or the West in general isn't interested in us at all. And Pakistan denies that the 1971 genocide ever happened.

Which is why, the world isn't missing our voices due to the internet blackout.

The voices were all over my Facebook newsfeed. Aunties and apus on Facebook live selling sarees, jewelry, crafts, elderly boomers sharing gardening tips, quick fixes or herbal remedies that they swear by, people sharing posts about cricket or which cricketer's wife wore what, food bloggers calling every possible dish juicy (be it a burger or the meat in biriyani), celebrity drama, political drama to the extent of what was allowed back home. That sort of thing.

Now, again, there's the silence of a graveyard over here. And I feel like screaming till I snap my vocal cords. Can you all please come back? Please? The silence is unbearable! Please! I won't judge you if you sell your wares! Please! I won't judge if you think turmeric water can act as a miracle detox! Please, please I won't say a word if your post about your stupid cricket match! Just something, please say something! I haven't seen a single one of you online. Please don't die, please stay safe. When the internet comes back, please, post about your vacations and your pets. Not the dead, please, don't post about the bodies. I can take a bit of silence but not more bodies please!

Speaking of bodies. There was an armoured vehicle, painted navy blue in the colours of the police (fuck them). And there was a body on top of it. Dead, obviously, very dead, because it flopped down with the slightest nudge, and was left on the streets. Before that happened, the vehicle drove about as if parading its spoils of war, with the body on top. Sending a message. This will happen to you if you raise your voice.

That image has been haunting me for two nights now. So yeah, I'm not man enough to get some incisive political analysis out. I have no either or predictions for what happens if the regime falls or doesn't fall. My body feels numb, I've been binge eating because I still have food in the house and I won't be gunned down if I go out to get groceries now. My non-Bangladeshi friends, bless their first world hearts, have never had to live under fascism. Bless their hearts, have never had to stifle their voices to the extent that we've had to. Bless their beautiful hearts, could hardly pronounce Bangladesh. But they still showed up to that docile little protest because they care about my spouse and I. I can't even begin to thank them.

My insides are tearing up. I'm sitting with a poker face typing all this word vomit, but my insides are nothing but a scream. No clever realpolitik comes out of a heart that's screaming, because our mouths are sewn shut.

[qedart]

Thanks to everyone who voted in the poll! I hope this qualifies well enough for the ‘Something Sweet’ category.  Also please be gentle, this is the first fic I’ve written in years.

---

They were supposed to be having dinner. That had been the plan at least. 

After flying multiple cross-country trips (consistently with his least favourite first-officer too) Ron had secured himself some well-earned and very-much-needed time off. He’d decided to spend it in San Diego, catching up with Ice, Mav, and the kids (both the actual kids and Mav’s strays). Tonight was his first night in town and the intention was for the five of them to go out, grab a nice bite to eat and properly catch up.

Unfortunately before they even set foot in the door of the nice little Italian place they’d picked out, Ice’s phone began to ring. The grimace that had pulled at his face upon glancing at the caller ID made it clear to all of them it wasn’t a call he could dismiss either. 10 minutes in, Tom was still talking outside but hadn’t made moves to leave for the office yet. Unfortunately he also didn’t look like things were wrapping up either. 

At the five minute mark Mav and Pete had gone to order the table drinks, but promptly got distracted on the way by the ping-ball machine that had been pushed into the back corner of the shop (a shiny ball, flashing lights, and the prospect of a pointless competition - the poor little morons never stood a chance). They were now vying, loudly, for the top score instead.

Rolling his eyes at the Mitchell show, Ron turned back to the only person who had the decency to stick around. But where Tom had been idly reading through the menu when he’d looked away, the kid now looked all the world like he was trying to work up the nerve to do something, or say something. 

Arching a brow, Ron nudged the boy's shoulder, grimacing apologetically at the flinch it earned. 

“You alright there, Buddy? " he asked, as gently as he could manage. 

Tom shot a fleeting glance his way before turning back to the menu once again, humming and nodding stiffly in response.

Others may have pushed the subject, but Ron had been handling Icicles for a good long while now, and knew that the best thing for situations such as these was to give it time. Rushing it only led to walls going up or conversations stalling because Tom wasn’t completely ready to say what he needed to say but felt pressured to say something regardless. Neither were productive ways to spend one’s night.

So picking up his phone and tapping through to his newsfeed, that’s precisely what Ron did. He’d managed to get most of the way through the major headlines when Tom started fidgeting in his peripheral. 

“Uncle Sli?”

Giving himself a quick mental pat on the back, Ron put down his phone and turned his attention back to Tom, who was looking over at him with an expression that he hadn’t seen in decades. That was to say the Tom Kazansky special blend of being intensely anxious while desperately trying to mask it behind cool indifference. Not necessarily a unique combination but one Ron could pick out of a line-up any day of the week.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he replied. 

Tom faltered for a moment, before clearing his throat and drawing a deep, steadying breath. 

“This is going to sound stupid,” he said, eyes fixed down on the menu in front of him but pushing through with all his might. “All things considered, it’s probably blatantly obvious. Doesn’t need saying. And… maybe… I don’t know… it’s just….

“I know it’s silly, and that it’s not a big deal anymore really, and everyone who properly matters here is already fine with it. I just… I’ve never actually told anyone and I feel… I sort of just want…”

“Want what?” Ron gently prompted.

Dragging in a deep, shuddering breath Tom turned to face Ron properly for the first time that evening. 

“I’m gay,” he uttered, fingers clenching at his arms so hard the nails had started to go white with the pressure. “I-I’ve known for a while, but I’ve never actually… said it. Or told anyone.”

Ron blinked.

Well, that wasn’t what he had been expecting. But in retrospect it really really should have been. He’d had this conversation before after all. Not quite word for word, obviously, but the open mix of fear of a poor reaction and quiet hope of acceptance battling for dominance on Tom’s face made it feel pretty damn identical all the same. 

Smiling warmly, Ron wrapped an arm around the kid's shoulders and tugged him closer, just like he had his little brother all those years ago. 

“That’s still a big thing, Buddy. Definitely not stupid at all,” he said, smiling a little wider as he felt Tom lean properly against him. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“S’alright.”

“Love you, kiddo.”

“...Thank you,” Tom whispered, so quietly Ron almost didn’t catch it. These damn kids really were out to break his heart it seemed. 

Sighing deeply, he pressed a firm kiss to the top of the boy’s head and held him tight until the moment was broken by a loud, indignant squawk from behind them. 

“You’re a damn cheat!” Pete cried from the pinball machine. 

“You are a sore loser,” Maverick jeered back.

Slider rolled his eyes and muttered, “Those idiots are going to get us kicked out before we even order.”

Tom laughed quietly and nodded, before pulling away from the hug and getting to his feet. 

“Back in a sec,” he said, before strolling over to, presumably, pull the Mitchell’s back into line. 

Ron arched his brow when Ice dropped back down at the table not a moment later, like he’d been waiting to do so. He was off his phone too, miracle of miracles. 

“Everything good in the Pentagon?” Ron drawled, leaning back in his seat. 

“You know I can’t comment on that,” Ice replied, taking a sip of his water as he stowed his phone away. 

Ron rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Yes yes, you’re a very powerful and important man.”

“That goes without saying,” the smug little shit retorted, smirking - before shooting him a knowing look. “You’re 2 for 2 now, huh?” 

Slider blinked innocently, leaning back a little further in his seat. 

“No idea what you’re talking about, Ice,” he replied smoothly, because even in this very peculiar situation it wasn’t really his news to be spreading about, was it? 

Ice’s smirk gentled into something a little warmer as he nodded his understanding, before reaching over and nudging Ron’s arm gently. “Thanks for being there for him too, Sli.”

Ron smiled, ducking his head as he nudged him back. 

“Any time, little brother.”

—

[odinsblog]

I was stunned to find the number of people in the tech industry who are all-in on the theory of scientific racism and eugenics. They've been out about that for years, though.

There's a sort of complex where this was the birth of, whether you want to call it the intellectual dark web, I think that was the moment there. They've sort of been radicalized gradually, as happens with these things, where they started with, like, Slate Star Codex was a really big key central point for them to gather and sort of say, well, we have to interrogate and question a lot of these (egalitarian) assumptions. They were very actively courted by the neo-reactionary movement.

So you have things like Peter Teal holding dinner parties with the founders of the movement, and sort of people who have explicitly endorsed slavery, explicitly endorsed disenfranchising women, and people of any non-male gender from being able to vote.

And I always resent it because I sound like a crazy person by just merely accurately describing what they have publicly said. I sound like a conspiracy theorist who's pinning up red strings on a cork board by literally being like, “This is a thing they said out loud, in public, multiple times.” And people are like, “There's no way.” And I'm like, I don't know what to tell you, but it's all out there. We have receipts for ten years.

They are way out there, and they have an explicit agenda of normalizing, really radical, really hateful agendas.

And for me, it's like, it's just a very simple thing.

It's like I have to care about my kid’s safety. I have to care about my friend's safety, I have to care about, you know, basic moral values that we used to agree on.

And that's the other thing too, is because I knew these people 10 and 20 years ago. Like the first blog that Marc Andreessen ever had, I set up. It was on a platform I helped build. So I know that there was a point in which, at least from the public visible face, this was once a reasonable person. And for them to embrace the sheer intellectual dishonesty, along with the hatred… the fact that they're just like, they don't care that they're lying because it's an effective tool to get what they want.

That stuff is… I don't know.

It really soured me on the traditional tech industry.

This is what their tech is for. The things they fund are meant to carry out their agenda.

Let me give you a clear example: To the people who believe in this extremist racist ideology, Elon Musk being willing to lose tens of billions of dollars in value of his own money, presumably, in Twitter, turning into “X,” is a principled person who puts his values ahead of the dollar. He is so committed to advancing this reactionary movement that he's willing to forego tens of billions of dollars of personal wealth in order to advance it.

And what rational people see as the destruction of Twitter is rather, the destruction of the ability for anybody to ever again make a Black Lives Matter hashtag, or to make a Me Too hashtag. And that is because he's not a dumb person. Like the thing that a lot of progressives and reasonable people want to just say, well, he's racist and evil, so he must be dumb.

He's not a dumb person.

Peter Thiel's not a dumb person.

So if we assume they're smart people who understand how systems work and have virtually unlimited resources, then why would they choose to do this?

Well, there must be a reason.

And there is a reason.

It's just one we don't like to confront.

Even more insidious is the fact that these tech moguls own huge companies with enormous influence, and wielding that kind of power over their employees creates a herd mentality within their workforces.

So if, for example, Facebook's board includes both Peter Thiel and Mark Andreessen. They don't have to give somebody an order to say what kind of content they want to promote on the newsfeed, on Facebook.

Everybody who works there knows this is who our bosses are. This is what we got to do, because they're smart. Everybody's smart, everybody's very reasonable.

And so you don't have to imagine, like I said, I don't have to be a conspiracy theorist that's putting up some red strings on a cork board to connect the dots and whatever. You're like, “Oh, I'm a midlevel product manager at a company. I'd like to make a name for myself and make the share price go up. And I know the boss's boss has been on every podcast in the world saying we need to promote more voices that are calling for ethnic cleansing,” okay?

Message received.

That's what a person who has no moral context would do. And there are a cohort of people in the technology industry that have come up entirely consuming media owned and created by these people, because they know the programming site Hacker News, which is owned by a venture capital firm and run by Paul Graham, is one of these guys.

They read blogs written explicitly by these guys. They consume it. They were on clubhouse. They're in a Discord chat with others that are sort of buying the stuff. They have a full wraparound media bubble. If they just read substacks and listen to the blog posts or read the blog posts from these folks, you can have what feels like an entire media diet shaped solely by this dialogue.

And this is why they're trying to own the media outlets and the distribution, like Twitter, alongside owning the platforms. And the fact that they can control more parts of society, right? The leverage of owning the distribution networks, the leverage of owning media outlets, the leverage of owning the platforms is very, very different, because we do have a lot of historical precedent.

If we go back 100 years ago and we say you're reeling from coming out of a pandemic, you are reeling from economic precarity and inequality at unprecedented levels, and you see the rise of, again, a direct parallel, virulent antisemitism. And you have things like the oil barons giving way to the Henry Fords of the world, the labor crackdown of the Pinkertons, Ford's embrace of, you know, to the point where he's pen pals with Hitler, and IBM building the technology.

The first person that ever asked me to do technology work for him was a neighbor of ours, and he had a tattoo on his wrist. And I was a little kid and didn't know what it meant. And I asked him what it was. It was his concentration camp tatoo. And what people don't realize is those are database entries in an IBM database.

And IBM's stance at the time was that they were neutral.

This is what technology does to enable the rise of fascism and victimization around the world. And we have a direct precedent less than 100 years ago, of how these technologies are used.

And I don't say that lightly.

I'm not saying we're there yet, but that is how you get there. And I would be surprised if the pattern doesn't play out in some ways, in terms of if you have tycoons of industry at a moment when the world is reckoning with massive social change, cultural change, along with recovering from things like economic destruction, inequality and pandemics… And you have rising military threats around the world.

That is exactly where we were a century ago.

—ANIL DASH shares his thoughts and experiences on Richard Hanania and rampant neo-fascism in Silicon Valley

[ezwezz]

GIRLY PLEASE MAKE A YUNJIN X FEMREADER FIC w angst n cheating 🙏🙏🙏

why do you want me to hurt you bby!? gonna be sobbing while writing this

also! i'm sort of winging it with the format and scenario so hopefully it's adequate enough

'i love you'

parings: huh yunjin x fem!reader warnings: cheating, ANGST words: 1k

"i love you more than anything, y/n, no matter what."

yunjin's words from last summer were replaying over and over inside your head. you didn't know what warranted the sentimental flashback, it was just a normal tuesday night spent laying alone, staring into the darkness looming above you. perhaps you just needed the comfort.

you hadn't seen yunjin for 1 month now. the throbbing inside your heart had dulled down and you were left with a familiar emptiness spattered with the occasional 'i miss you baby' or 'sorry for not replying, i've been so busy :('.

you knew yunjin's career came with extortionate sacrifice on both ends, but loving her was all you needed. you'd loved her for two years now, despite the constant hurt of her absence.

"i love you more than anything....no matter what." you whispered the sentence. she'd looked so beautiful while saying it- her earnest brown eyes and furrowed brows as she gently cupped your face, the warmth of her body against yours. it was a fleetingly perfect moment, nothing could compare. you wondered if yunjin thought about it as much as you these days.

---

incoming call: yunijn

"y/n?"

"hey jen, everything okay?"

"baby listen, no matter what you see or what you hear, you have to trust me, i love you. never forget that."

"i love you too...but why are you saying this? has something happened?"

there was silence on the other end of the line. you knew something was wrong and it made your heart pound at an unsteady pace.

"yunjin...what did you do?" your voice sounded small.

"i'm sorry..." there was a quiet sob on the other end of the line, and you immediately knew. in that moment, your entire world came crashing down. everything you'd sacrificed for the woman you loved submerged you, drowned you, it tore you apart.

"i'm not going to ask for your forgiveness..." yunjin's voice drifted into the background as your mind swirled into a messy flurry of emotion. you struggled to comprehend what this meant, grappling with your own feelings, trying to figure out exactly how you felt.

"i'll talk to you later jen." you whispered before ending the call and allowing the tears to cascade down your cheeks. she couldn't even be there to face you herself, you resented her for being able to throw away your relationship like it was nothing.

---

sure enough, you awoke from an almost sleepless night to see every news feed headlining a picture of yunjin kissing an unknown girl outside a club. you switched your phone off, unable to answer any messages reaching out to you with condolences.

reality was a hard truth to face, and the reality of the situation was gouging into you. you never wanted to see her again, to hear her name or her songs.

"i love you more than anything, y/n, no matter what."

you scoffed as the words stung in your head like a venomous bite.

incoming call: yunjin

you immediately switched your phone to airplane mode.

---

the remainder of le sserafim's tour was shrouded with controversy and despite putting on a brave face, the guilt and heartbreak was eating away at yunjin.

you knew their tour was nearing its end, so of course you'd already packed up all your stuff from your shared apartment with yunjin and moved in with a nearby relative. you didn't know whether it made you a coward, avoiding yunjin like this, but you knew you wouldn't be able to face her before taking time to heal. there was the occasional mention of her that crossed your newsfeed, but you made sure to ignore each one, never taking the time to indulge in reopening fresh wounds.

you were home alone when you heard a knock at the front door. it was unusual considering deliveries were never scheduled for this time and you weren't expecting anyone, so you answered the door with caution, opening it just a crack.

"y/n?"

fuck.

you immediately closed the door, scolding your previous fears of creepy men as anything would've been better than this.

"y/n please, just hear me out." a muffled voice begged.

"whatever you're going to say is pointless. i don't want to hear it."

"i understand that but...i think we both need the clarity."

"i really don't need anything from you right now."

"please just open the door, then i promise i'll leave you alone."

"jen- yunjin...this hurts so fucking much. i've spent the past few weeks trying to erase you from my memory and now you're here, expecting me to just...let you near me again. you ruined everything." you could hear yunjin begin to cry softly, as were you.

"i know." she choked through tears. "i know nothing will change what happened and it's killing me y/n. i don't know what to do...i love you so much, you mean the world to me. i don't go a day without missing you and wanting to be near you. i know it's over between us, but please just let me say goodbye properly."

you had nothing to say to her, but you opened the door anyway. it was an impulsive decision fuelled by a fleeting sense of longing for your love, but you immediately regretted it when you laid your eyes on the fresh face that would eternally haunt you. you didn't have time to process the overwhelming surge of emotion before tender arms enveloped your body and held you in an excruciating embrace.

"let me go." you sobbed, not wanting this bittersweet familiarity. but she only held you tighter, her body trembling.

"i love you."

"don't you dare say that, not after..."

"i love you so much. i'll never stop loving you y/n."

"shut up jen, please just leave me alone." you finally succeeded in pushing the woman away, it was like tearing off a bandaid.

her face was streaked with tears and it looked as if she had lost weight. you can't have looked much better.

"i don't want you to forgive me, because you deserve better, you deserve so much more than me. but never forget that i'll always love you, even if our worlds never collide again. i'll always be waiting for you."

and as she began to retreat with her eyes locked onto yours, she uttered one last sentence: "i love you more than anything, y/n, no matter what."

then yunjin turned away from you, not once looking back.

no other sentence could ever torment you as much as that one. but little did you know, it would replay over and over in yunjin's head as she lay alone, staring into the darkness looming above.

[ghostssweetgirl]

Jealousy

jealous! simon ghost riley x fem!reader (smut)

a/n: thank you for the love on my other posts!

thank you to the person who requested jealous ghost. 

minors, do not interact! 18+ only ! !

pairing: simon ghost riley x fem reader

tw: smut, dom ghost, jealous ghost, drunk reader (consensual), stalker-ish?, size kink, choking, little bit of name calling. um, boot humping? :/ type thing? idk, marking/slight blood, anal + aftercare (maybe not that good, sorry), reader's nickname is "bunny"

this is a long one 🫣 please like and share if you enjoy :)

(please don't repost w/o credit)

word count: 3.5k~

alternate version here

----------

It was a Friday night. Not just a regular Friday night, that Friday night. Bar night. Week's work was over, now time to unwind. After 56 hours of working a week, you convince yourself getting fucked up on the weekend is well deserved. You see a lot of shit being a nurse, but it doesn't mean it's easy. 

You put on a black lacey bodysuit with ripped blue jeans. Why not look good, too? Fuck it, you thought to yourself. Never know if you're gonna get lucky. Tidying up your messy hair, you leave it in its low pony with fringe on the sides. You smudge black eyeshadow around your lash line and put a sharp wing of black eyeliner on, smudging that as well, giving a siren eye type look, you put on black honey lip gloss as well. You looked good for just having worked 56 hours.

You smile entering the bar, walking straight to the bartender to order a fruity drink. Scanning the floor and tables, you search for your friend, Ghost. Usually he was here by now, but maybe he was late, or something came up. You shrug it off as you grab your drink and find a table to wait for your other friend, t/n <their name>. 

You scroll mindlessly through newsfeed on your phone, still waiting for your friends to show up. After 20 minutes, you wonder if anyone's even coming. T/n isn't answering your calls or texts, and you have no way of contacting Ghost. You can still have fun by yourself, but it still weighs heavily on your mind if they will ever show up. 

--

Ghost

Y/n didn't notice the pair of eyes staring at her from across the room, in a dark corner. Ghost. He's been here the whole time but wanted to see what she would do if she didn't think he was here. He knows it may be wrong, creepy even. They aren't actually that close and yet, he's found himself having some sort of feelings for her and he can't deny the fact he finds her attractive. He's noticed her frantically looking around, worry shown on her face looking for him and probably her friend, t/n. He enjoys watching them crack each other up when they're drunk. Laughing until they cry, grabbing each other for leverage when they can't walk straight.

Looks like it's just you and me, bunny, he thinks to himself, using the nickname he specifically uses for you. 

His eyes scan your body thoroughly, taking in the curves squeezed by your body suit, your soft skin behind mesh material in a cute little pattern. The way he knew you struggled putting those tight jeans on, ripping at the flesh of your thighs, cupping your ass perfectly. 

-- 

You down 3 drinks, feeling a good buzz ease its way through your body, relaxing you from all the stress you went through working 14-hour shifts a day. No replies, no one familiar walking through that door, you need to stand up. You walk closer to the music and lean on a pole, secretly swaying your hips to the beat. 

A random guy awkwardly dances his way to you, struggling to think about what to say, he decides to keep telling you the shittiest jokes you've ever heard. So shitty, in fact, it made you laugh at his attempts. You give him forced, but awkward, smile - hoping he'd take the hint and go away. But he simply didn't. You kept your attention glued to your phone, though. Hoping for a text from someone, something. 

After a few minutes, you finally shoo him away, politely. Needing more drink after losing your buzz to some loser, you bought yourself a few whiskey shots. While sitting at the bar, a decent-looking guy grabs your attention. He actually pulls a good pick-up line, causing you to giggle and hold your hand out to grab his arm. Feeling his bicep, you exclaim, "Oh, wow! You got muscles," you smirk. 

--

Ghost

Watching you with this guy... it drove him mad seeing you giggling at this dude's advances and grabbing this guy's bicep. Ghost fucking knew he had better and more muscle than this guy - and he knew you knew it too. 

Though he still watches, his skin feels like its burning, this feeling - unknown - is causing him to feel uncontrollable anger, frustration, possessiveness. Yeah, he liked to imagine himself thrusting in you while he fucked his fist, and he would always pay attention to everything you do, the way your face contorts according to which emotion, he has studied you like a book. He wished you were giggling like that at his jokes, and smirking at him like that. This fuckin' guy, he thought to himself. 

He had to think of a plan to get you away from this guy, and to show you that you're his and his only.

--

You're feeling warm, happy, and flirty. Finally, your mind wasn't set on your missing friends and where they were. That was until...

Your eyes shoot at something moving in the corner of your eyes, behind the guy in front of you. Your eyes widen as you notice who it is. Before you even speak, he grabs you by your arm, forcibly leading you to the direction of the bathroom. 

"We need to talk," he roughly spoke. He sounded bothered by something, he just walked in, and you didn't even get a chance to say hi!

"Gh-Simon! What are you doing?!" you whisper loudly, concerned about why the fuck he's acting like this. Shoulders moving up and down as he breathes loudly and... angrily? You couldn't really tell. "What's going on?"

No response, just angry grunts. He opens the door to the unisex restroom - surprisingly clean, for a bar bathroom. Shutting it and locking it behind you, you gulp as he pins you against the wall, one arm resting above your head clenched in a fist.

Your breath fastens as you're getting scared, never seeing this side of Simon. You didn't think he'd ever hurt you, lash out on you, so this is a very big "what the fuck did I do?" moment. 

You break the silence of his threatening eyes staring into your soul.

"Simon! What the fuck is this about?" you softly scold him. 

"You know what, y/n. The way you were flirting with that fuckin' guy," he sneered. 

"What?! Si-"

"Ghost," he corrected you.

"Ghost! I-Why is that a problem? Me flirting with someone? I'm a grown fucking woman, and you don't own me!" you try to break free from his grasp, but there's no use fighting back, he's much bigger and stronger than you.

"You got one thing wrong, sweetheart. You do belong with me. You just didn't fuckin' know it yet, huh?" he leaned his head closer to yours, leaving little space - lips almost touching.

Shocked, unaware of what to even say. "I'm sorry, do I?" getting a little defensive, but also trying to get him to admit if he has feelings for you. You couldn't deny that you were attracted to him, but you didn't expect or think he'd feel the same way. You didn't feel that he was making any attempt to show you, until now. The sudden possessiveness causes a warm feeling to run through your body. 

Taking one hand, pinching your chin to make direct eye contact with him, he nodded. "Yes, y/n... Bloody hell, you didn't notice I've liked yo?" rubbing your jawline, teasing your lips with his balaclava, his hand moves slightly down to choke you.

Whimpering, brows tilting, you look up to him with your innocent little e/c <eye color> eyes, breath slow, but he can tell you're enjoying this. Wetness seeps between your puffy cunt lips, definitely soaking your bodysuit. You weakly shake your head while soundlessly mouthing no, I didn't! I'm sorry. Eyes scrunching close, tears falling from the side. His grip on your neck loosens, allowing you to breath, catching your breath. 

While his hands firmly grasp your hips, your arms are finally free. You snake your arms up his chest to around his neck while he rests his forehead on yours, steadying his breathing.

"Y/n... I've liked you for a long time. Dunno how you didn't notice," soft words coming out of his mouth was not something you'd expect him to say, but you still appreciated the honesty and was happy you could act upon your feelings as well. 

"I've liked you, too, Ghost," you smile at him, but hide your face so he doesn't see your red cheeks. His dominance turned you on, the fact that he was jealous turned you on - made you wet, clit pulsing. 

"Were you... jealous?"  head tilted to the side; you smirk as you tease him.

Your newfound confidence disappears as his hand finds your neck again, rough fingers on either side, feeling your pulse beat hard. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

Soon, he puts a knee between your thighs, finally letting your aching core find some relief in the new pressure added - something to grind on. Your attempt to moan was pitiful, but still your hips bucked against his knee, the crease of your jeans helping you please yourself. 

"Oh, bunny," he coos. "Everyone is going to know what and who did this to you by the time I'm done."

You nod eagerly, not fully processing what he said, you just want him stuffed inside you. He turns you around with your face pressed against the wall, back arched - inviting him. His strong and tattooed arm still choking you firmly, but enough to be pleasurable, holding you in place. 

His other hands grasp onto your breasts firmly, squeezing the fat of them, letting his fingers pinch your tender and sensitive nipples, getting those sweet little moans out of you in which he loves. Your mind leaping to thoughts of Simon, the ghost, Riley getting jealous over you flirting with some random guy you really didn't care about, how long has it been since he's gained these possessive feelings over you? The thoughts cause you to giggle, though you abruptly stop as a sharp pain vibrates against your ass. 

"What's funny, sweetheart? Hmm?" he asks.

You turn your head as much as possible to make eye contact with his masked face. Biting your lip, "Knowing that you got a little jealous is cute, Simon. Maybe I should flirt with other men if this is the result..."

He breaths in quick, "Yeah, and you're not going to like the punishment, darling. I promise you that, bunny."  His voice deepens as he leans into your ear, reaching around and unbuttoning your jeans. 

"Is that right?" you tease him further. 

"Mmm, and this is only the first time, so I'm gonna be gentle with you now, but princess... I must warn you," he bites your ear. "I don't share. Either way, I'm going to fuck you so good, that no other man can please you like I can. Your pussy will be molded to the shape of my cock, y/n, whether you want it to or not." 

His cock is painfully hard underneath his pants. He's just now worked you out of your jeans, leaving you in the bodysuit which buttons by your slit. No underwear underneath, you know you've soaked your bodysuit. His hand unbuttons your bodysuit, fingers grazing past your heat making you shudder. 

Feeling angry that you're threatening to flirt with more guys in front of him, he furiously rubs your clit back and forth with a flat hand. Shrieking out in pleasure, automatically overstimulated, trying to run away - but his other hand is now hugging you to his, underneath your breasts. You can hear the squishy sounds of your wetness as he's relentlessly going in circles now, fingers pinching your clit between them. Head lolling back onto his shoulder, he forces one finger in, earning a deeper moan from you while your nails dig into his forearm. Scissoring into you roughly, more wetness pools out. 

"Simon!" 

"Yesss, say my fucking name, just like that. You're mine, bunny, you understand me?" 

"Yes, yes, yes. I'm yours! Fuck!"

His fingers disappear as you approach your orgasm. You huff in annoyance, disbelief.

"You're not cumming unless it's from my cock, bunny~, " he smirks as he lifts his mask right above his nose, revealing his light brown stubble, toned jawline and pretty pink lips.

You didn't know how much you liked your nickname from Simon until you heard it coming from his lips like this. The venom in his tone, passion behind his actions tonight. Turning to face him, you see him unbuckling his belt, then undoing his pants revealing his thick, long erection under his boxers, head peeking well out the hem. Instinctively, you go to get down on your knees - slowly. Your knees hit harder than expected underneath you as Simon grabbed your shoulders and forced you down to your knees in front of him. 

He tilts his head as he glares at you. "Well, be a good bunny for me and maybe I won't have to be too rough on you tonight, yeah?"

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes, nodding your head. You grab his boxers and pull them down, letting your fingers explore his big and muscular thighs. You kitten lick up his thick shaft, tasting the sweet but salty flavor of him. Kissing and sucking the head, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He groans as his chest rises as he breathes faster. 

Your vagina feels a weird but hard sensation. You look down and see he has positioned his boot underneath you. Jesus fucking Christ, you think to yourself. Still sucking, getting his whole cock wet to the best of your ability, he groans out.

"Hump it."

You hesitate, but you listen and grind against his boot. Wetness coating the hardness of the leather material, making your moans vibrate against his cock. 

"What a fucking disgusting slut."

He's now holding both sides of your head, fucking into your face. Giving you all you can take and more. The pleasure you feel from both his boot underneath you and hearing him moan - almost in a submissive-tone, making your knees even weaker than they are. You almost forget that you need to breathe, so you breathe in short breaths through your nose - as much as you can. 

Again, as soon as you're about to reach your climax, he pulls you up. Tears in your eyes from not being able to breath, your gasps for air. He loves how torn up you are already. And this was only the beginning. His goal was to break you - ruin you - for him and only him. Rewire your brain to crave only his touch. 

He kisses you like a starved man, biting your lip so hard that you bleed. He sucks your blood as he backs you into the cold wall, hands dominating your body, squeezing the meat of your ass, scratching your back, groping your tits. He kisses down your neck, sucking hard in sensitive spots leaving a purple bruise, leading down to your tits - biting them - leaving his teeth marks indented in your skin. 

Leaning up, towering over you again, he forces you around. Taking in the view of your round ass, he slaps his cock between your ass cheeks. Sliding it up and down your slit, gathering your juices on his cock, he teases your entrance. He reaches around and puts his thumb in your mouth in which you greedily take, sucking and moaning against it as he thrusts into you slowly, inch by inch. Stretching your cunt to the max, your eyes squeeze closed, trying to adjust to his size. 

He loudly groans as he feels your gummy walls squeeze tightly against his cock. You finally take him to the hilt, tip kissing past your cervix and let out the sexiest moan he could ever hear come out of your mouth. 

Holy fuck, Simon.

I know, bunny. You're doing so well.

The praise. He's self-aware of his size and that he's pleasing you. 

He's taking you in slow, long, hard strokes. Each thrust, you moan and shake. Wetness glistening his cock each time he pulls out to the tip, he admires the arousal you have spilled on him. 

"You ever going to flirt with a guy again? Hmm, bunny?" he's really using your nickname against you. Now every time he says it outside of this will remind you of him fucking you stupid, dominating and marking you. 

"No! No, no, no, no, no..." you repeat, thoughtlessly. You don't know a lot of words right now, you're getting your brains fucked out, you're focused on his assault on your cervix, fucking you into a life-changing orgasm. This one was different. Felt better than any other orgasm you've had before. Made you question if you were even orgasming before properly in the first place.

Your cum spills out all sides of his cock, coating in it transparent-white stickiness, a natural lube for him to fuck into you even harder, faster, deeper.  

"You. Belong. To. Me." he grunted between deep, hard thrusts. 

He gets a sick idea in his mind and goes with it. He pulls out, causing your pussy to clench around nothing. "I'm going to fuck your ass. Is that okay, princess?"

What a gentleman. He's asking before he does it anyway, but cute, you think to yourself. Nodding yes, you look back at him, biting your lip. He's fucked you out already, your first orgasm felt like 10 orgasms at once - euphoric. 

"Good. I was going to do it anyway."

He spits on your ass and gathers some wetness on the tip of the flushed tip of his cock. Throbbing, he circles around your asshole. He groans as he barely teases the tip into it, how you tense up, reaching behind him to grab something - he offers his hand. Reenforcing his footing, he thrusts deeper, being gentle as you mewled through your soft lips. 

Burying himself to the hilt, you both moan deeply in unison. 

"Good girl," he praises as he slightly fastens his pace. "This ass is mine, too, right bunny?"

"Yes! I'm all yours~," you assure him, offering your whole body to him right there, right then - fully submitting - you didn't care. 

"Mmm," he grunts, thrusts getting sloppier. His free hand reaches around to stimulate your clit, pleased with the fact you're soaked even from him fucking you anally. Moans erupting breathlessly through your mouth, he's fed his ego in knowing he could and would be the one to break you, corrupt you, mold you to crave his cock and only him - rotting your brain with perverted thoughts of him. "I'm gonna cum in this ass, bunny."

He bottoms out hard as his cum fills you up, leaking out of your hole, clenching around nothing after he pulled his softening cock out. "Keep me in there, too. Or I'll have to punish you, again."

He buttons up your bodysuit for you helping you pull your jeans up. Loving the way your ass struggled to be contained. Your legs threaten to fail you and he helps you sit down on the bench so he can redress himself. 

Helping you walk out the bathroom as you stumble and your legs shake uncontrollably, he walks you to his car to take you to his place. You fell unconscious, tired from being drunk, exhausted after the sex. 

You wake up in the middle of the night to Simon bringing you water and y/f/m <your favorite meal>. Not realizing you were wearing his large sweatpants and oversized hoody; you assume he helped you change... and cleaned you up. How sweet, you think to yourself as you smile, realizing you have a headache after last night, from all the alcohol you consumed. As you hydrate yourself, Simon's hand caresses your thigh, and he looks at you lovingly. Caringly. 

"Thank you," you look at him, smiling while your face is full of food. He thinks it's cute. 

"I'm going to get a bath ready for you, bunny," he softly spoke as he got up, disappearing into the bathroom. 

You're honestly impressed that he's even doing this for you. Feeling accomplished with yourself, but also feeling dumb for not realizing you could have had this sooner if you had realized his feelings but also can't fully blame yourself because you... you don't know him that well. Even then, in this moment, it feels... warm and kind, genuine. 

He massages you in the bath, lovingly kisses each bruise he caused, washes your hair, your body. Fully relaxing you. He dries you off tenderly and carefully. Still sore, you're able to make it to the bed. Wearing a clean set of Simon's clothes, you cuddle under the blanket together and soon fall asleep on his chest, cherishing the sound of his heartbeat. 

[impossiblesuitcase]

what sort of press do you imagine cinder doing when she first becomes queen of Luna? ik she would do press conferences when the revolution first ends about being selene and then often once she officially becomes the queen but do you think she would ever agree to being profiled by earthen media or would they all be biased against cyborgs and refuse to talk to her? btw you don’t have to answer if it makes no sense 💛

I don't think she would be doing many interviews directly after the revolution by nature of her packed schedule. She would more so do press releases explaining her different plans as queen. Considering her coronation is the most viewed newsfeed of the Third Era, Eathern media would be clambering over each other to try and get an interview with her. Anyone who managed to would have a massive surge in their viewership. So Cinder has the liberty to be picky with whom she is interviewed by--she wouldn't have to accept anyone who has a prejudiced agenda.

Once she starts visiting Earth as an ambassador, she would have more time for interviews. And at some point she would have to at least partly explain what happened in the revolution. She was a fugitive--the authorities would still need a statement from her to clear her name. Once that is released to the public, she might do a few interviews providing further details to do some reputation damage control.

[mtreebeardiles]

A prompt for you? "hiding under the blankets to hide the blush" for whichever Shepard boy you think it fits 🥺

Whoa, I am finally answering this! 84 years later! Ayyy!

Lol, can find it below as well as over here on AO3!

Thanks for the prompt, sorry it took a small eternity to write it haha

It wasn't often that Everett hid things from him. 

Never anything bad, exactly, but almost always something the other man was worried about. It was a bad habit that would take a lot more than the scant few years they'd been together to break, and some topics were harder for Evvy to broach than others. It was a dice roll to guess what may have been weighing on his mind this time, but Kaidan was confident, as he leaned in the doorway of their bedroom, that whatever this was wasn't going to be devastating. 

Challenging, maybe, but not life-shaking. 

Probably. 

He watched his husband from the doorway, eyeing the way the other man was chewing on his lower lip, a furrow between his brows and his pale skin washed out in the blue light of his computer screen. He was under his usual pile of blankets, Kaidan's hoodie wrapped tight to his body, every so often swapping to chewing on the drawstring before catching himself and going back to chewing on something else -- his lip again, or his knuckles. Another habit, but one Kaidan could deal with if it meant not smoking. He'd let Evvy chew on all his hoodie drawstrings if it helped keep cigarettes out of his mouth. 

Everett sighed, drawstring falling from his lips as he sat back and stretched, and in that moment he happened to look up. 

"Shit! Jesus -- how long have you been standing there?" Everett's cheeks flushed; Kaidan raised his eyebrows.

Interesting. 

"Not long," he admitted, pushing off the doorjamb and wandering in. "Whatcha doing?"

"Oh, uh. Nothing?"

"Seems pretty intense for nothing," Kaidan pointed out. There weren't any of the usual signs of distress in his partner's expression -- not the sort that usually spelled an anxiety spiral. Worry, yes, and now a fair amount of embarrassment, which only piqued Kaidan's interest further. 

"It's… they're just… I was just seeing if I could…"

Kaidan hummed, settling on the bed next to him. 

"Seeing if you could…?" he prompted, gentle. Everett's cheeks went impossibly redder and Kaidan watched as he slunk down until he and his computer were under the blankets. 

"Um. Evvy?"

"Itsapplications."

"What?"

"…applications."

Kaidan blinked. "Like…for school?"

"Maybe." 

Kaidan settled in against the headboard, slipping a hand under the mound of blankets currently hiding his husband. School was a…tricky subject, for Evvy, he knew. Something he'd wanted for so long that had been just out of reach for years, his military career leaving no room for educational pursuits beyond the demands of being a marine, an N7, a SPECTRE. 

Beyond the demands of being Commander Shepard. 

He'd mentioned giving it a shot before, right after the Reaper War had ended and he'd officially retired. But nerves, the anxiety of expectation, and his own tumultuous recovery seemed to stall him any time he started looking into the matter. The fact that he was far enough in to consider the application process told Kaidan he was going to give it a real try this time. 

If he could get out of his own head enough, anyway. 

Cool fingers interlocked with his under the blankets, and he gave Evvy's hand a squeeze. 

"Can I see what schools you're looking at?" Kaidan asked. There was a pause before Evvy's laptop was carefully pushed out of the sanctuary of the blankets. Kaidan bit back a fond smile and took it, opening the lid and waking it back up to the page Everett had been perusing. He recognized one or two of the institutions listed in a word doc, and it didn't take long to see that Evvy's top three all offered remote or hybrid options. He wasn't surprised; there was no way Everett could ever experience being a regular student, not after having his name and face plastered over the newsfeeds for the past decade and a half. 

He gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze. 

"Sounds like they have some great programs," he began after a moment, his tone conversational and inviting. 

"Yeah," came the soft, muffled agreement. Kaidan toggled over to the application Everett had already started, reading over the requirements and expectations. All reasonable, and accommodating to older students. He hummed his approval. 

"I like the one in Vancouver, but it's hybrid, and I don't know if I want to deal with all that." Kaidan glanced down to see Everett had partially emerged from his blanket cocoon, the waves of his hair spilling onto the pillow. He shifted, releasing Evvy's hand to run his fingers through the errant strands instead. 

"Maybe still apply, and see what happens?" Kaidan suggested. "We could always go visit, if you like." 

Everett pursed his lips, eyes meeting Kaidan's briefly before darting away. 

"Hey," Kaidan went on gently. "Talk to me?"

His husband chewed at his lower lip again, and it took a moment before he could meet Kaidan's gaze again. 

"…what if I'm just fooling myself?" he whispered. "What if I left the only thing I was ever any good at?"

"Baby…" Kaidan carefully set the laptop aside and scooted down until he was lying beside him, turned to face him. This wasn't a new concern, wasn't a new conversation. Kaidan knew he could list each and every thing that made Everett so incredibly wonderful -- as a partner, as a friend, as a brother. Knew Evvy would hear him, but knew it wasn't always enough. 

"I think you should still try," Kaidan finally continued. "I think you deserve that chance, Evvy. Maybe you like it, maybe you find out it's not for you. You have the room to do that, now. You deserve to do that. You've given so much, honey… you deserve to take. To have something that's just for you."

Everett's gray gaze searched his, and his husband let loose a shaky exhale. 

"Yeah," he whispered. "Maybe." He sniffed, peeling back a few layers of blankets until he could cuddle up closer, tucking his head under Kaidan's chin, seizing his hand again and holding it to his own chest. "You're probably right."

"Usually am."

He felt Everett's laugh and smiled, laughing himself when he felt the undeniable scrape of teeth against his captive hand. 

"Fuck I want a cigarette so bad, Kay."

"I know, baby." 

"But I'm not gonna break," Everett went on after a moment. "And I'm gonna fill out those fucking applications."

"Fuck yeah, you are." 

Everett shifted, pulling back enough to peer up at him. He narrowed his eyes in thought. 

"What is it?" Kaidan prompted after a moment. 

"Since I have to write essays for some of them," Everett began. "I mean, they're separate entities. It's not like they'd notice…"

"Notice?"

"I'm gonna make a template, Kay." 

This declaration, delivered with the sort of stubborn flare reminiscent of days on the Normandy, startled a bark of laughter out of Kaidan. 

"Of course you are." 

"They're helpful!"

"I'm not arguing!"

Everett moved again, emerging fully from his blankets only to straddle Kaidan's hips. He grinned down at him, and Kaidan could feel the tension in his husband's body easing. 

"You're the one who says skills are transferrable..."

"No hacking to get a better schedule, baby."

"What are you, a cop?"

Kaidan shook his head and looped a hand around the back of Evvy's neck, tugging him down and capturing his smiling lips against his own. 

"You've got this, Nerd," he murmured when they parted for air. "I believe in you."

Everett's smile softened, and he kissed Kaidan's nose. 

"Thank you," he whispered. "Nerdlet." 

[callophelia-ailingamnemonic]

Scared into acting again, here are some shadow/persona designs I made for Persona Crossroads:

I saw a news article thing for P6 show up on my phone's newsfeed and got scared into acting once more, here are some more persona and shadow designs I made for Crossroads (which I sort of scrapped since I don't want it to be done in the P5 Tactica art style anymore XDD)

First up we got the myth, the legend, Bayonetta!

I actually got pretty far into making the art digital, but as much of a shame as it is, I just wanted an art style change XDD The final Bayonetta design will probably still look similar tho owo

I used Ernesto from P5T as inspo for the gun feet X33 I don't really have much else to talk about regarding her design since it mostly sticks to her canon outfit in Bayonetta 1.

Next, we got Karl Jacobs' TFTSMP character.

I really wanted to lean in on the whole In Between-Other Side-XD's World idea, tho I ended up not finishing the colouring since I got stuck on what to do with the hair lol XDD

The bottom coat part is inspired by a fanart I saw by Cute Studio (I believe their username was...) and the inside of the coat and the hands sprouting from the ends of Jacobs' scarf is a reference to all the versions of him that can be found in the In Between. The last notable note I can think to mention about his design is how his halo is meant to sort of... evoke the imagery of a clock? If that makes sense lol.

I wanted him to look super ominous since Jacobs' was supposed to be a boss.

Unexpectedly, up next we have the illusive, rumoured Istaroth from Genshin Impact!

It's a weird choice since we've never had a confirmed appearance for her, but back in my old notes for Crossroads, Istaroth was supposed to be one of the characters' personas, so yeah, I made her lol.

Her design was inspired by art of her drawn by gierosajie-art and littleblueberryartist! Originally I had her standing, but realised the pose of her sitting down with her hands in her lap to be more iconic.

And here we have Mari from OMORI! :DD

I think I mentioned it before, she was originally supposed to be part of a system of personas that's like... a bunch of personas in one personas because their user was a person with DID. Still not sure if I'm keeping the concept yet, but if not, then she'll just be a shadow roaming around.

Her hair was inspired by a fanart made by k0re_drawings on Twitter. I just loved how they drew her hair in a way that looked like snapped violin strings! If I redesign her tho, I think I might use a drawing by an artist called Hiko (I think) as inspiration. Mari doesn't really look like Something, but if you look at her from the back, the resemblance is there, I swear!

And next we have the Electro Archon herself, Raiden Ei! :DD

This was designed when she was still supposed to be Arilette's persona and I truly regret not making her skin look like shadows :\\

Her outfit is basically just her normal outfit without some of the asymmetricalness and some extra ornaments and armour inspired by the Raiden Shogun boss and a small handful of fanarts. I love how her bottom half has the vague silhouette of a butterfly :))

And last but not least, we got the Anemo Archon, Venti! :DD

So... I don't like his design ._. It's too much. I tried using various fanarts as inspiration to try and make his outfit a lil cooler, but it's just... so... much ._. (I do love the touch of Celestia in his corrupted form owo)

Even tho the name of the persona is Venti, I decided to make his look resemble Barbatos so I could pull a Third Ascension and make it look like his bard outfit while naming it Barbatos owo

That's all I got lol

[tj-dragonblade]

oooh Star Trek AU and cruise verse part 3 for the wip game! xo @hardly-an-escape

Hello hello! Yes! The Star Trek 'AU' was more idea than WIP until this-here round of WIP-ask gaming. Now it's got a bunch of drily-expository introduction to the scene, which is progress I'm delighted to have made. The first bit can be found here; this snippet follows on directly from that:

They meet yearly at the least, now, every 7th of June by Earth calendar reckoning, and Dream often drops by once or twice in between as well. It's been a wonderful change the last four centuries from the six that came before; their friendship is genuine, solid, lasting. Hob makes the journey back to earth every year that ends in 89, always returns to the cradle of London and the New Inn, still standing all these centuries later, to mark the turning of another century in their relationship. But in between the centennial tradition, Dream will meet him where he happens to roam, and the age of space travel means he can roam farther than he'd ever imagined. Currently he's been crewing cargo freighters out in the wormhole sector, where new and exciting things have been happening for the last few years. He's been to the Gamma Quadrant a couple of times, the entire other side of the galaxy! Sometimes he still can't quite believe it but it's absolutely brilliant; he loves just mucking around out here, experiencing things that his peasant brain could never have fathomed in his natural mortal lifetime. Then the last freighter he'd signed onto had started smuggling for the Maquis, and when her captain inevitably went to Federation prison for it, he'd cut loose from the rest of the crew and drifted back to Deep Space 9. He'll find his next berth soon, he's in no hurry, and in the meantime. Dream is here for their annual visit. "My dear friend," he greets, standing as Dream reaches the table. "It is good to see you." He clasps Dream's hand, settles a firm grip to his shoulder with the other, the sorts of physical greeting he never would have dared a few centuries back. But Dream has grown, their friendship has grown, and pulling him into a light one-armed embrace is now not only allowable, but reciprocated. "Hello, Hob," Dream murmurs, as they draw apart, and the warmth in his crystal blue eyes is unmistakable.

Cruise-verse Part 3 is not officially committed to wip status, but the unavoidable reality is that I keep scribbling down bits of conversations they could have if I decide I'm going to go ahead and write the third installment. Of this series, I suppose I should specify. Here's a bit of one of those conversations, which you'll see is still in the almost-entirely-dialogue stage:

"Holy shit…you're Morpheus Ateleíotes, head of the Oneiros branch of InfinityCorp??" "I would much prefer you continue to call me Dream; indeed, to think of me as your 'just Dream' from the cruise." "Alright alright, I can wrap my head around that. Just Dream it is, between you and me. Just. Gimme a minute to process." "That you have fucked a high-society recluse?" "I mean you were in the priciest suite on that ship; obviously you were loaded but I never—oh, hold on a tick, didn't I just see something in the newsfeed about a divorce being finalized?" "Yes, that is one of the things I wished to talk about with you today." "So you were still married when we hooked up at sea?" "…Yes. Technically." "Oh my god, I'm an adulterer??" The glittering of his eyes seems more amused than affronted. Dream tilts an eyebrow. "You were not married, so strictly speaking—" "I am party to adultery, gorgeous, don't argue semantics." "I apologize for not being forthcoming about my marital status on the cruise." "Mmyeah, might've been nice to know?" The warmth of his smile keeps the words light, free of any real sting of recrimination. "Would it have made any difference?" Hob looks him up and down, gaze sweeping over him, appraisal with a backing of very fond heat. "Absolutely not. Still would've fucked you senseless for the asking. And I do get why you wouldn't want to haul your messy baggage into your fun tropical fling." "Truly, you are the most beautiful and understanding party to adultery I could have hoped to find."

I've also posted a bit of later (and more fleshed out) conversation on a last-line-tag-meme previously.

(@hardly-an-escape just in case your tag in the original ask doesn't ping you)

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Agent Rushmore (CH 1)

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 1000

Warning: Mild language, violence, gore, guns, fluff, smut, angst, PTSD, graphic scenes…

Prompt: Special Agent Locklyn Rushmore, a highly trained Russian assassin who is skilled in all forms of hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, negotiating, and more. When her cover is blown, she is returning back to NCIS headquarters in D.C…

Jethro Gibbs POV

I study the footage again and shake my head before motioning McGee to rewind the footage to play it over again and again. That is until Jen decides to interrupt my obsessing.

“Any news on who you think the unsub is?” She asks.

“Yes. However, this woman has no existence as far as we know. No facial recognition and she’s good at what she does. What we do know is that she has red hair, green eyes, she’s a trained assassin for sure, but we ruled out Mossad.” I say.

“That isn’t your unsub. She’s one of us. A federal agent. She’s undercover. She’s in deep. We only keep her file on paper as of now. Her name is Locklyn Rushmore. She underwent extensive training in a secret Russian organization. Thankfully, she escaped before it was too late.” She murmurs.

I stare at Jen a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. Thankfully, she escaped before it was too late…that had me curious.

“Escaped?” I question.

“Yes. Her parents sent her into this secret organization against her will. She was just a child. She was eight. One of the youngest there. She got away when she was seventeen and started her own life by taking down renowned criminals. We were intrigued by her skills, so we hired her. She has dabbled in all sorts of federal agencies, but NCIS holds a special place in her heart. It’s where she first learned that blood isn’t family.” She says.

“Sounds like you know her well.” I murmur.

“She stayed with me for awhile. She was distant at first. It was her way of protecting herself and keeping her guard up. Little by little, I worked through to her and she opened up. She’s an amazing young woman. She’s gone through so much, yet she’s still fighting to put others before herself. She’s remarkable really.” She says.

“How old…is this agent?” DiNozzo asks.

“Not that you seem to ask the age of most woman you take out, but she’s thirty-three. However, you aren’t her type.” She says.

“I’m everyone’s type, Director.” He teases.

“Hm. Not hers.” She says.

“Then what’s her type?” He asks.

“Older. She claims she likes her men experienced. However, I think she has a thing for the hair too. I’ve noticed most men she takes out has silver hair. She always picks some…colorful men.” She says.

I watch the footage of this Locklyn Rushmore. She moved swiftly and quickly. She moved with grace and somehow no one seemed to notice her. She was like a shadow.

“Uh, boss…Director…you may want to see this.” McGee says.

He pulls up a live newsfeed and we instantly see fire and smoke and people running. I read the headline about a bomb. My eyes focus on a redhead who stumbles out with her gun drawn.

“Locklyn.” Jen whispers, a hand going to her mouth.

We hear gunshots and she takes cover behind a car, firing off a few rounds herself. Police were yelling at her to put her weapon down, but she throws her credentials their way to silence them as she fires off at an unsub.

“Director Shepard, emergency meeting in M-TAC.” Her secretary says.

I follow Jen to M-TAC. I sit with her and see that the newsfeed was playing in here as several different faces appear.

“Locklyn’s cover has been blown, Director Shepard.” I hear.

“I’m aware. I want her back here as soon as possible. She’s safer with us and respectfully, she belongs with NCIS.” She says.

“She is in D.C. She knew her cover was blown and was making her way back to you, Director Shepard. However, they caught up with her before she could tell you.” He says.

“I’ll handle this. And Locklyn will be safe. We will figure out how her cover was blown and officially take down the Dixen family for good.” She says.

She stands and I follow her. She walks out to the railing and with a simple look, I went down to stand with my team.

“We will all be investigating a case that has been classified and highly confidential for years. Locklyn Rushmore will be returning back to NCIS, joining Special Agent Gibbs team. She’s been undercover for years, however she’s one of us. She will need our help and support during these trying times. She has a target on her back. Her cover was blown and now several dangerous individuals, a very powerful family, is wanting her dead.” She says.

Everyone nods and gets back to their respective duties. I stare at Jen a moment longer before I look between Ziva, McGee, and Tony.

“Clear off that desk for her. And do something about that stupid divider so she doesn’t feel singled out. Go!” I snap.

They get to work and I knew the real person to set up her desk. I head down to Abby’s lab and she was blasting music through the speakers. I turn it off and she turns to me with a pout, putting her hands on her hips.

“Gibbs! It was getting to the good part!” She exclaims.

“Abs, an agent who has been undercover for quite awhile is returning to NCIS. Her cover was blown and she has a very powerful family who is dangerous after her. I don’t know all the details, but I know that Jen wants her comfortable when she returns. She’s joining my team and I wanted to see if you’d be so kind to set up her desk.” I say and she nods with a smile.

“What’s her name? Do you know if she’s nice? Oh! Do you know her favorite color or maybe if she likes hugs?” She asks.

“Her name is Locklyn Rushmore. Jen says she is distant and guarded at first, but once you break her walls down…she sounds nice. I’m not sure if she’s a hugger though.” I say and she sighs, nodding her head.

[liskantope]

Since I'm evidently in the mood for grousing (without providing much argument) about stuff my acquaintances post on social media tonight, also seen on my Facebook newsfeed today was a highly educated, highly intellectual friend of mine suggesting that therapy bills should be a tax write-off. Now I don't particularly mind this view; in fact, I think there are potentially good arguments to be made that health care expenses in general should lower one's taxes, although this does just seem like a superficial variation on making more health benefits more widespread in the first place. But part of her justification is that "we already do it for charity, and what else is therapy but charity for the self?" And that sort of attempted reasoning, combined with flowery words about how "good mental health is how we show up" in our moral duties, makes me feel Somewhat Irritated, more than I know I should be.