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mostlysignssomeportents · 10 months ago

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I assure you, an AI didn’t write a terrible “George Carlin” routine

There are only TWO MORE DAYS left in the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

On Hallowe'en 1974, Ronald Clark O'Bryan murdered his son with poisoned candy. He needed the insurance money, and he knew that Halloween poisonings were rampant, so he figured he'd get away with it. He was wrong:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ronald_Clark_O%27Bryan

The stories of Hallowe'en poisonings were just that – stories. No one was poisoning kids on Hallowe'en – except this monstrous murderer, who mistook rampant scare stories for truth and assumed (incorrectly) that his murder would blend in with the crowd.

Last week, the dudes behind the "comedy" podcast Dudesy released a "George Carlin" comedy special that they claimed had been created, holus bolus, by an AI trained on the comedian's routines. This was a lie. After the Carlin estate sued, the dudes admitted that they had written the (remarkably unfunny) "comedy" special:

https://arstechnica.com/ai/2024/01/george-carlins-heirs-sue-comedy-podcast-over-ai-generated-impression/

As I've written, we're nowhere near the point where an AI can do your job, but we're well past the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

AI systems can do some remarkable party tricks, but there's a huge difference between producing a plausible sentence and a good one. After the initial rush of astonishment, the stench of botshit becomes unmistakable:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/jan/03/botshit-generative-ai-imminent-threat-democracy

Some of this botshit comes from people who are sold a bill of goods: they're convinced that they can make a George Carlin special without any human intervention and when the bot fails, they manufacture their own botshit, assuming they must be bad at prompting the AI.

This is an old technology story: I had a friend who was contracted to livestream a Canadian awards show in the earliest days of the web. They booked in multiple ISDN lines from Bell Canada and set up an impressive Mbone encoding station on the wings of the stage. Only one problem: the ISDNs flaked (this was a common problem with ISDNs!). There was no way to livecast the show.

Nevertheless, my friend's boss's ordered him to go on pretending to livestream the show. They made a big deal of it, with all kinds of cool visualizers showing the progress of this futuristic marvel, which the cameras frequently lingered on, accompanied by overheated narration from the show's hosts.

The weirdest part? The next day, my friend – and many others – heard from satisfied viewers who boasted about how amazing it had been to watch this show on their computers, rather than their TVs. Remember: there had been no stream. These people had just assumed that the problem was on their end – that they had failed to correctly install and configure the multiple browser plugins required. Not wanting to admit their technical incompetence, they instead boasted about how great the show had been. It was the Emperor's New Livestream.

Perhaps that's what happened to the Dudesy bros. But there's another possibility: maybe they were captured by their own imaginations. In "Genesis," an essay in the 2007 collection The Creationists, EL Doctorow (no relation) describes how the ancient Babylonians were so poleaxed by the strange wonder of the story they made up about the origin of the universe that they assumed that it must be true. They themselves weren't nearly imaginative enough to have come up with this super-cool tale, so God must have put it in their minds:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/29/gedankenexperimentwahn/#high-on-your-own-supply

That seems to have been what happened to the Air Force colonel who falsely claimed that a "rogue AI-powered drone" had spontaneously evolved the strategy of killing its operator as a way of clearing the obstacle to its main objective, which was killing the enemy:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/04/ayyyyyy-eyeeeee/

This never happened. It was – in the chagrined colonel's words – a "thought experiment." In other words, this guy – who is the USAF's Chief of AI Test and Operations – was so excited about his own made up story that he forgot it wasn't true and told a whole conference-room full of people that it had actually happened.

Maybe that's what happened with the George Carlinbot 3000: the Dudesy dudes fell in love with their own vision for a fully automated luxury Carlinbot and forgot that they had made it up, so they just cheated, assuming they would eventually be able to make a fully operational Battle Carlinbot.

That's basically the Theranos story: a teenaged "entrepreneur" was convinced that she was just about to produce a seemingly impossible, revolutionary diagnostic machine, so she faked its results, abetted by investors, customers and others who wanted to believe:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theranos

The thing about stories of AI miracles is that they are peddled by both AI's boosters and its critics. For boosters, the value of these tall tales is obvious: if normies can be convinced that AI is capable of performing miracles, they'll invest in it. They'll even integrate it into their product offerings and then quietly hire legions of humans to pick up the botshit it leaves behind. These abettors can be relied upon to keep the defects in these products a secret, because they'll assume that they've committed an operator error. After all, everyone knows that AI can do anything, so if it's not performing for them, the problem must exist between the keyboard and the chair.

But this would only take AI so far. It's one thing to hear implausible stories of AI's triumph from the people invested in it – but what about when AI's critics repeat those stories? If your boss thinks an AI can do your job, and AI critics are all running around with their hair on fire, shouting about the coming AI jobpocalypse, then maybe the AI really can do your job?

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

There's a name for this kind of criticism: "criti-hype," coined by Lee Vinsel, who points to many reasons for its persistence, including the fact that it constitutes an "academic business-model":

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

That's four reasons for AI hype:

to win investors and customers;

to cover customers' and users' embarrassment when the AI doesn't perform;

AI dreamers so high on their own supply that they can't tell truth from fantasy;

A business-model for doomsayers who form an unholy alliance with AI companies by parroting their silliest hype in warning form.

But there's a fifth motivation for criti-hype: to simplify otherwise tedious and complex situations. As Jamie Zawinski writes, this is the motivation behind the obvious lie that the "autonomous cars" on the streets of San Francisco have no driver:

https://www.jwz.org/blog/2024/01/driverless-cars-always-have-a-driver/

GM's Cruise division was forced to shutter its SF operations after one of its "self-driving" cars dragged an injured pedestrian for 20 feet:

https://www.wired.com/story/cruise-robotaxi-self-driving-permit-revoked-california/

One of the widely discussed revelations in the wake of the incident was that Cruise employed 1.5 skilled technical remote overseers for every one of its "self-driving" cars. In other words, they had replaced a single low-waged cab driver with 1.5 higher-paid remote operators.

As Zawinski writes, SFPD is well aware that there's a human being (or more than one human being) responsible for every one of these cars – someone who is formally at fault when the cars injure people or damage property. Nevertheless, SFPD and SFMTA maintain that these cars can't be cited for moving violations because "no one is driving them."

But figuring out who which person is responsible for a moving violation is "complicated and annoying to deal with," so the fiction persists.

(Zawinski notes that even when these people are held responsible, they're a "moral crumple zone" for the company that decided to enroll whole cities in nonconsensual murderbot experiments.)

Automation hype has always involved hidden humans. The most famous of these was the "mechanical Turk" hoax: a supposed chess-playing robot that was just a puppet operated by a concealed human operator wedged awkwardly into its carapace.

This pattern repeats itself through the ages. Thomas Jefferson "replaced his slaves" with dumbwaiters – but of course, dumbwaiters don't replace slaves, they hide slaves:

https://www.stuartmcmillen.com/blog/behind-the-dumbwaiter/

The modern Mechanical Turk – a division of Amazon that employs low-waged "clickworkers," many of them overseas – modernizes the dumbwaiter by hiding low-waged workforces behind a veneer of automation. The MTurk is an abstract "cloud" of human intelligence (the tasks MTurks perform are called "HITs," which stands for "Human Intelligence Tasks").

This is such a truism that techies in India joke that "AI" stands for "absent Indians." Or, to use Jathan Sadowski's wonderful term: "Potemkin AI":

https://reallifemag.com/potemkin-ai/

This Potemkin AI is everywhere you look. When Tesla unveiled its humanoid robot Optimus, they made a big flashy show of it, promising a $20,000 automaton was just on the horizon. They failed to mention that Optimus was just a person in a robot suit:

https://www.siliconrepublic.com/machines/elon-musk-tesla-robot-optimus-ai

Likewise with the famous demo of a "full self-driving" Tesla, which turned out to be a canned fake:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/tesla-video-promoting-self-driving-was-staged-engineer-testifies-2023-01-17/

The most shocking and terrifying and enraging AI demos keep turning out to be "Just A Guy" (in Molly White's excellent parlance):

https://twitter.com/molly0xFFF/status/1751670561606971895

And yet, we keep falling for it. It's no wonder, really: criti-hype rewards so many different people in so many different ways that it truly offers something for everyone.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

Back the Kickstarter for the audiobook of The Bezzle here!

Image:

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

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

Ross Breadmore (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/rossbreadmore/5169298162/

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

#pluralistic #ai #absent indians #mechanical turks #scams #george carlin #comedy #body-snatchers #fraud #theranos #guys in robot suits #criti-hype #machine learning #fake it til you make it #too good to fact-check #mturk #deepfakes

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yanmuffins · 8 months ago

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SAFETY IN IGNORANCE.

Yandere! Prince! Gojo X fem! Isekai! Maid! Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve been transmigrated to the world of an otome game, taking the place of one of Prince Satoru's personal attendants, a measly side character with no name or relevance to the story.

As it turns out, life in the castle isn't so bad, and the certainty of food and shelter is welcome when finding a way home isn't ever guaranteed. Besides, your boss isn't as insufferable as you thought he would be. It could be worse. Isn't it nice, knowing you're safe?

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words (😮)

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: NONCON (no intercourse), somnophilia, mentions of past s/a, mild yandere behavior (if you squint?), mild derealization, AU setting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: please be aware my writing is quite rusty!! this is the first piece of writing that i finish IN YEARS and it's a fucking jjk darkfic. sigh. writing smutty scenes is also so awkward lmao, forgive me if it sucks severely. at least i hope you enjoy this little fucked up fic in have cooked up. it's hot and ready to be consumed! (๑>؂•̀๑)

-> MINORS DNI !

“TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE is a visual novel that takes place in a fantastical setting, where you can find your happily ever after with the character of your choice.”

It's been years – in this world, at least – but you still remember every word skimmed with dry, irritated eyes, as you stared at a bright screen, surrounded by the darkness of your own bedroom. It was another restless night among many, spent watching YouTube videos and reading pirated manga in questionable website, sipping on valerian tea.

So, like any other night, your adblocker dutifully served its purpose, shielding your browser from annoying, abusive, virulent ads.

Except for one.

“Enter the enchanting world of TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE through SARA, a kind-hearted peasant, as she meets all sorts of swoon-worthy suitors!”

You should have closed the page, sketchy as it was, but it had piqued your interest. It was a Friday night. You were sleepless. It was past midnight, tossing and turning in bed had done little to welcome slumber. Your home was tidy and organized from insomniac hours from nights before. You were bored.

“Play with a cast of handsome men, make the right choices and uncover exciting secret routes...”

Nothing about the web design told you the game was anything but a harmless dating simulator for an adult audience. Maybe it was the pastel color-scheme, with soft pinks, yellows, blues, purples and greens, or the elegant cursive font and colorful flowers adorning the page. In fact, other than the initial synopsis, there wasn't much to look at. No content warnings, nothing about the capture targets or the heroine you were supposed to be playing as, not even the usual information on how many endings or CGs you could get.

At the bottom of the page, “ENTER.” and “LEAVE?” buttons waited for a decision.

Maybe... you could give it a try? Hopefully it would entertain you until your eyelids finally grew heavy, allowing you to drift off before sunshine seeped through your window signaling dawn had arrived.

You clicked “ENTER.”.

... And here you are now, mending Prince Satoru's shirt before another hunting trip.

It's been ten years since you've come to this world. Your own body replaced that of a nameless background character with no narrative purpose, allowing you to exist as yourself in this entirely alien reality. You're not sure how much time has passed in your original world, whether you've been dead for a decade or simply unconscious for a couple of minutes, and you haven't gotten any closer to finding out.

You sigh, weary, looking down at the flax linen shirt laid over your lap, needle in hand. Simple, at first glance, a bit worn, but a nice piece of garment not everyone could afford to have in their wardrobe. One of its puffed sleeves now torn at the shoulder lining, an unfortunate result of it being caught by a tree branch during horse-riding. Nothing you couldn’t fix, however, skilled as you’d become over the years.

Ten years in this world.

Ten years working as Prince Satoru’s personal maid.

You got rewarded for that.

The luxurious pearl necklace that became a part of your distinguished blue uniform, accompanied by a gold pendant encrusted with gemstones shaped like the Gojo’s family crest. It was an honor given to faithful, dutiful servants to the crown, closest to the royal family.

Satoru and you were both eighteen when you’d first presented yourself as his new personal maid. This body, undoubtedly yours, seemed to have aged down a few years, most likely to match the age of your predecessor. They had, apparently, been working hard to better their lot in life, aiming for an often-vacant position at the prince’s small circle of personal attendants. You inherited the skills they’d nurtured, bettering them along the years, allowing you to secure your spot as long as you have.

That, and Prince Satoru Gojo’s character trivia really came in handy an absurd number of times.

There were worse fates out there, especially for a transmigrated person like you. Sure, maybe life as a privileged noblewoman would have been ideal, even more useful in searching for a way home, but being a personal servant to Prince Satoru, as… Eccentric as he was, gave you advantages compared to other peasants, even other castle servants. Plenty of food, fine fabrics, individual accommodations, not having to exhaust yourself scrubbing floors all day or sweating by the heat of the kitchen fires – besides, the Gojo heir wasn’t quite as terrible a boss once you got used to him.

You remember finding his route in-game quite boring, full of cliché tropes and little to no conflict. He was also kind of an overbearing asshole the entire time, unlikability salvaged only by his elven good looks.

But nothing could have prepared you to the otherworldly beauty he posed standing right in front of you, in the flesh, for the first time, glacial orbs eyeing you up and down. You admitted to yourself – although begrudgingly, as he was your least favorite character among the ones you’d played – that Satoru Gojo was as handsome as they come and had every right to be smug about it.

Smiling to yourself, you put aside the needle and thread to hold up the shirt with one hand, gently tracing over the repaired sleeve with the other. You tug at it to test its resistance, nodding absentmindedly when its stays in place. It’s good as new, just in time for his hunting trip. You get up, taking a moment to adjust your skirts and straighten your white linen apron and coif, neatly folding the shirt and draping it over your arm. According to your pocket watch, his attendants should be waking him up at any minute now.

You grab the doorknob, wondering when you’d become so accustomed to this life.

And then you’re heading towards the prince’s chambers.

Gojo’s head snaps in your direction as soon as he hears the door creak open, a lazy smile gracing his features. You bow to him, respectfully averting your eyes as an attendant removes his undertunic to reveal his naked form.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

He doesn’t regard you immediately, arms raised as William, one of his attendants, quickly fetches the shirt from your arm and slips it over his head. It’s a morning ritual familiar to you by now, efficient movements shared between all three blue-clad servants in the room to make sure the prince will be properly dressed for his daily affairs.

Kai, your other colleague, hands you a black leather surcoat. It’s undoubtedly fit for royalty, handcrafted by the best tailor in the land; buttons of silver, western dragons embroidered on each side of its chest, facing each other, with gold thread some miller’s daughter had spun from straw – or so you’d heard. You feel his gaze upon you as you button up the overgarment, knowing exactly what he expects.

Gojo steps back when you’re done, doing a slow spin to show off his outfit.

“What flattery does this little doll have for me today?” He asks, “Do I look dashing?”

“Yes, my lord Prince, as always.” You respond, with a courtly nod of your head.

“What about my hair?”

“Soft like the finest silk in the land, fairer than the first snow of the season, Your Highness.”

“What about my lips?”

“Tender and pink like freshly bloomed petunias in springtime, Your Highness.”

“And my eyes? And my eyes?” Gojo goads you on, a boyish excitement to his voice, his face coming a bit too close for comfort as if pleading to look up at him.

Playfully, your eyes meet his, granting his unspoken wish, holding his gaze for nothing more than a few seconds, a simpering smile as you speak.

“So strikingly blue it would put a midday sky in a summer’s day to shame, Your Highness.”

He releases an exaggerated sigh before grabbing your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks – his touchiness hardly phased you anymore; harmless, albeit pestering –, head slightly cocked to the side and a pout on his lips.

“You tease.”

Kai, newer to the group, shoots an alarmed look towards William, who merely shrugs him off.

And just as quickly he releases you, storming out the door as you and your colleagues follow after him, hurrying along the hallway steps behind him like ducklings after their mother.

Gojo Satoru is exactly seven minutes late to meet his guests. Not his servant’s fault at all, of that, you are sure. You had checked your pocket watch while walking through the castle hallways, confirming he would be on time to meet his guests at the open area of the stables – that was, of course, before all the meaningless detours he took along the way. You’re not sure if he does it on purpose.

William had his weaponry arranged, waiting at the hands of a servant, while Kai had personally spoken to the Marshal to have his Highness’ horse ready, both having woken up earlier than usual to make the proper arrangements.

Naturally, they would follow him to the hunting trip, as part of his entourage, while you stayed behind and made sure all was perfect for their return.

Your arrangements included waking up as early as the kitchen staff, the sun barely peeking through the horizon, to revise the ingredients you’d requested in advance with the head cook, so a kitchen maid could go and fetch them from the forest or the market. You’d love to be able to traverse the markets or the woods freely, exploring, meeting new people, finding out new things about this world that could potentially lead to a way home — but alas, being a personal attendant to the prince meant tasks such as picking herbs at the woods or buying strawberries from a merchant were, per your colleague’s words, below you.

It's a nice day out. A faint breeze caresses your skin, cool enough to be refreshing, and the skies are clear and blue with not a cloud to be seen. The autumn sun shines gently upon the earth, sparing of its overbearing heat. Your presence isn’t exactly necessary, but Gojo has made a habit of you seeing him off and you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be outside.

“Fashionably late as always, Satoru.” His grace, Geto Suguru, is the first one to speak up.

A swoon-worthy duke, with a storyline much too… disconcerting… for your taste. Though the number of times you’d spoken to Geto could be counted on your fingers, being in his presence still put you on edge. Not that he had ever done anything to you, but you’d accidentally met his eyes countless times, caught him staring at you with a gaze so invasive it made you feel like a criminal awaiting judgement.

“Late? Treason. A prince is always on time, Suguru.” Gojo replies with a nonchalant shrug, “You were the ones here early!”

Awaiting his arrival were a group of familiar young men. Most you had seen in-game through the extensive selection of capture targets, coming to meet them in-person over the years due to their ties with the prince. You had played some of their routes, but with the exception of Megumi – Gojo’s protégé – you hadn’t a reason to talk to them, merely exchanging a word or two or none at all when in their presence.

“Finally.”

Nanami Kento looks mildly inconvenienced as he speaks, tone flat, arms crossed over his broad chest and a visible scowl creasing his features. He was a retired knight, born a peasant, presently a Baron; a personal favorite of yours. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two whenever he was around. You remember kicking your feet up in the air during his playthrough. Sometimes you still do.

Next to him stood Prince Yuji Itadori, too entertained by his own horse as he fed him a carrot. You have faint memories of playing his route, although you don’t remember finishing it. He was a sweetheart, from what you knew, periodically visiting from a neighboring kingdom to learn from Nanami and Satoru and cultivate friendly diplomatic relations. You’d cracked your head trying to recollect bits and pieces of his story, unsuccessfully. You had a pesky feeling it was relevant.

Fushiguro Megumi was last. Broody lost prince, currently hidden under Prince Satoru’s protection – you hadn’t played his route, but he was a constant side character in Gojo’s. He was still a child when you met him, shortly after Gojo brought him into the castle.

When Megumi notices you, there’s a smile; faint, barely noticeable, and he waves. You respond with a brief curtsy.

“Can we go?” Yuji protests, interrupting some petty squabble between Satoru and Suguru, “I hear there’s a huge wild boar running around causing ruckus around the village, I want to catch it!”

Mounted on his white steed, Gojo is a cliché as old as time; a trotting reminder of your being in a world that isn't your own. The anodyne sight of him looking down on you, pink lips softly curving upwards to gift you a kind smile as the sun shines from behind him is almost identical to one of the game’s CG’S. It shouldn’t – you’ve grown used to him, to living inside this game, material as your own world – but for a moment, and just a moment, the sight of a whimsical prince on a white horse wiggles an uncomfortable, yet familiar feeling of surrealness, unreality into your mind, making your stomach churn.

You ignore it. Mentally sweep it under the carpet of your subconscious. This is nothing new. You can spiral into an existential crisis over the absurd condition of your circumstances later, when you’re lying sleepless in bed staring at the ceiling.

You’ve run out valerian root, anyway.

“I am obliged to be away for an entire day!” He whines, words punctuated by dramatic sullenness to his body language.

You step closer to him, taking a respectful bow before offering him a pair of neatly-wrapped sunglasses, which he takes – a distinctive feature of his character.

“So, you must, Your Highness. Go, and may the mother of good luck be with you.”

Satoru extends an arm toward you, presenting his hand. You kiss it – your own lips touching soft, pristine skin; a needed reminded he was a person, made of flesh that could be touched and not pixels limited to a screen.

From your peripheral, Kai elbows William as discreetly as he can.

You return to the prince’s sleeping quarters immediately after their departure. Overseeing the chambermaids, you watch them change the bedding for a fresh set, correcting the pair on your favored arrangement of pillows, fussing as they dust around the priceless ornaments around the chamber, amiably warning them to be careful.

When they’re done, you move onwards to the kitchen.

There are people watching you as you march through the hallways. Spying little peepers full of envy or admiration, or both, and you know what they’re looking at – the telltale blue fabric of your dress, a color so inaccessible to many, and the necklace you bear from years of service. Despite your own wishes, it makes you an intimidating figure, as if you’re an extension of royalty. Being a personal attendant to the prince meant upholding that image, keeping yourself unapproachable, discouraged from socializing and making merry with anyone but servants considered to be on your level.

Still, you greet the kitchen staff with a smile, trying to be as cordial as you possibly can. You know all of them by name, from the head cook to the scullery maid, all exceptionally busy for tonight’s private feast. It’s not your job to review the selection of dishes to be served, but you do so anyway, even if superficially, reminding them to provide a non-alcoholic beverage for the prince. Attentively, you listen to the head cook as he showcases the ingredients for the pastries you requested, assuring of their quality.

It's a bit of a hollow feeling when you leave the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, knowing the rest of your day will be spent alone. Without Gojo, there’s nothing much to do. Without William and Kai, your social circle has been just about reduced to zero.

But you do know where you’ll be spending all of those long, unending hours.

Being a personal servant to Prince Satoru gave you advantages. Privileges, if you will.

When he asked you what you would like for your latest birthday, you made quite a bold request. It’s the newest addition to the key bunch hanging from your waist – full, unbridled access to the royal library. The thought of having an entire day to search through never-ending shelves, making notes and finding books that could possibly lead to finding a way home cheers you up a bit.

“Are you fornicating with the prince?”

You nearly choke on your drink when the question abruptly comes out of Kai’s mouth, unable to speak from the utter shock. William is at his side, chewing on a chicken leg, and can only stare wide-eyed at his colleague’s bluntness. It’s been a while since the hunting party returned, clear blue skies fading into shades of orange adorned by heavy, rumbling clouds. Outside, tree branches sway to the force of the wind, preparing to welcome a starless night of rain and cold. Gathered at the table on Prince Satoru’s solar room, the three of you were having dinner to replenish your energy before the feast while Gojo entertained his guests.

It was usually a casual moment to decompress. Not tonight, Kai had decided.

“What– No!” You retort, scandalized, “What could have given you that impression?!”

“What hasn’t given me that impression, you mean.”

“Kai–” William tries to interject, but you’re quicker to rejoinder.

“I am not… fornicating with anyone, especially not prince Satoru. There’s nothing like that between us. That’s… How he is. You’re just not used to him yet.”

“But–”

“I think we’re better off cutting this topic of conversation here.” William interrupts, slightest bit of panic in his voice, eager to deflect conflict, “I know you’re still adapting to your new position, Kai, and that’s why I’m sure (Y/N) will be kind enough to let this slide.”

William looks at you expectantly, almost pleading, and you scoff before crossing your arms over your chest. The mere notion seems ridiculous – you, doing the deed of darkness with one of the game’s capture targets, destined to fall in love with the heroine regardless of whether she decided to pursue him or not? It would be a disaster waiting to happen. You were nothing if not a professional, serving your boss to the best of your power, and all of Satoru’s affections stemmed from his own outlandish personality. That was all. Your dynamic could be less than orthodox, but it was platonic in its nature.

“Come now, we can’t afford not to get along. Kai, apologize to (Y/N). I have worked alongside her for ten long years, and if she says she’s not engaging in improper acts with the prince, then she’s not.”

Kai silently looks between the both of you, finally letting out a defeated sigh.

“It’s a reasonable question, seeing you two…” He insists, shifting uncomfortably on his seat, “But I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine, I guess. No one has ever insinuated that before.”

“Not to your face, doll.” Kai shrugs, nonchalant.

You want to snap back at him, but in comes the realization that he’s not wrong. Perhaps it was living within your bubble, mostly limited to your coworkers and your boss, had made you clueless to people outside and what gossip ran about you. William and Benji, Kai’s predecessor, had accompanied you in serving Gojo for a decade; neither of them would ever dare question your relationship with the prince or the harmless liberties involved; they were accustomed to it. And, well, you were accustomed to the point you thought everyone else saw it as you did: normal. The sudden realization that not all would find Prince Satoru’s affections towards you something ordinary was a staggering concept in your mind – but it was so simple. So obvious.

Then again, it never occurred you to ask…

“Do you think it’s weird, William? Be honest.”

“I have no opinion of anything, ever.” William stated, crossing over his heart with his right hand, “But now that you mention it, Benji did confide in me, shortly before he was relieved from service. Said something about ‘inappropriate displays of affection towards a heedless maiden’, I believe?”

“Oh. Benji never said anything like that to me.”

“He wouldn’t. Between you and me, he had a soft spot for you, so I do believe that statement was a little biased.”

On your face, an expression of utter confusion. You never noticed any signs of Benji liking you romantically, but then again, you apparently don’t notice much around you. The chicken seems to have lost its taste when you bite into it, mind too preoccupied with the conversation you just had. Not that there’s any use reminiscing about Benji – the man having been released from service only a month prior, after prince Satoru arranged him a marriage to a marquis’ daughter.

Now that you think of it, he didn’t seem too pleased about the match. Or about leaving.

The stone-walled bathroom smelled of fresh flowers and citrus. Sliced oranges and grapefruits, calendulas, sunflowers, rose petals, mint leaves, forget-me-nots, floating in the steaming hot water that filled the circular, wooden bathtub. Night has long since arrived, and even with the shutters of the only window in the room closed you can still hear the heavy rain pouring against glass and the rattling of wood caused by unrelenting wind.

Despite that, the candles illuminating the room, as well as the small fire burning underneath a boiling pot of water, kept the room pleasantly warm.

On the other side of the door, William and Kai undress the prince. All had retired to their respective bedchambers by now, and it’s not long before the pair of attendants are dismissed for the night. Gojo is already disrobing by the time he enters the bathroom, excitedly blabbering about the hunting trip as he plops the velvet garment onto your waiting hands, stepping into the warm embrace of the thoughtfully drawn bath. Suddenly, the ceiling becomes particularly interesting.

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

“… Not that I’m complaining about tonight’s banquet, though. I’m just a bit disappointed, you know? All the fuss people were making over a silly boar, and it made a passable meal at best…”

You hang the robe. From a tray placed beside the fireplace you select a pink macaron, feeding it to him before you start to work a soapy sponge along his skin. It had been a deeply embarrassing experience at first, aiding him in his baths; with time, however, like many other things, it had faded into normalcy. Nothing but work, is what you tell yourself when you elevate one of his sinewy legs with your hand, sponge inching closer and closer to his groin. You steal a quick glance at him, half-listening to his words, seeing Gojo laid back, unashamed by your ministrations, playing with the petals of a soggy sunflower.

“Ah– Megumi! His aim is getting better. He’s gotten really good at shooting with a bow and arrow…”

You wash the soap off your hands when you’re finished with his body. You feed him a small tart, topped with vanilla cream, strawberries, and blueberries. Still, he prattles on, words muffled by his munching,

“… mmph… And Suguru is still being weird about that wife of his… Something-something ‘she’s different from before’ and refused to elaborate…”

He quiets down a bit once you retrieve a warm compress, placing it over his eyes, fingers moving to either side of his temples to massage them with gentle circular motions. He relishes a bit on the relief it brings after a day straining his eyes. As he relaxes further under your touch, you let your mind wander, recounting the frustratingly slow progress with your research.

Even with access to the great royal library, the sheer number of books on varying topics was discouraging enough to tempt an emotional breakdown. You scoured through shelves, gathering a collection of sorcerer biographies, spell books, history books, encyclopedias – anything that could hold the subtlest bit of information regarding transmigration. And still… Nothing. Your eyes still felt a bit dry, a lingering headache from reading within the ill-illuminated library. All you had at this point were your own theories – and that wasn’t saying much.

If only you could leave the castle for a bit. A frightening thought, of course, as you could count on a single hand the number of times you had seen the world beyond the castle walls, never straying too far from the place you now called home. All of those occasions you had been following Prince Satoru on some of his trips, mostly diplomatic, with no freedom to walk around and talk to people as you pleased.

Perhaps a vacation was all you needed. Your “parents” lived not too far, if you remembered correctly, on one of the neighboring villages subservient to the Gojo crown. A favored place for merchants to gather, fairly populated, maybe if you tried investigating–

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N)??” Gojo’s fingers are snapping in front of your face, his eyes still covered by the compress, “Are you listening to me?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Your Highness. I think my mind just wandered for a bit…” You apologize, hurriedly forgoing his temples in favor of washing his hair, “What was it?”

He remains oddly silent as you pick up a smaller bucket of ambient-temperature water, delicately wetting his hair. You weren’t giving mere empty flattery earlier in the day; running your hands through his hair truly felt like touching the finest of silk.

“You know…” He starts, “I notice your mind tends to wander a lot, especially these days...”

There’s an edge to his tone, one you rarely hear him use.

“Your eyes seem to wander an awful lot, too, lately.”

Another pause. There's no silence in the room, just an uncomfortable absence of words; You hear the fire crackling. You hear the water boiling and bubbling, thinking for a moment you should check the temperature of his bath to see if it needs to be warmed. You hear the muffled sound of rain against glass. You hear wooden shutters rattling. There's a strange shift about the air, and you're confused, unsure of what he could mean.

He answers your unspoken question before the words have a chance to leave your mouth.

“I saw you stealing those little glances at Nanami.”

You stand, bucket in hands, mouth agape – embarrassment. The heat of complete embarrassment that overtakes you feels like cold water poured down on your body. Your hands feel a little weak as you quickly try to regain your composure, looking away from Gojo despite knowing his eyes aren’t on you.

Fiddling with the hem of your apron, you try to find your words.

“When… When did you–” You stammer, “How…”

“Ah-ha! So, you plead guilty. That’s soooo shameless, flower.”

The familiar playfulness in his tone brings back a bit of confidence. Still, there’s something about it you can’t quite place; for a moment, you think there’s a bark to it, bitterness. Perhaps it’s something unpleasant about his day that he’s hung up about, increased by you not listening to him. He’s just teasing, you conclude, trying to vent whatever annoyance peeved him by picking on you.

You massage Prince Satoru’s scalp with shampoo – or the closest thing they had to it, in this world – hoping to placate his abrupt change in mood. Maybe you’ll hand-feed him another macaron.

“I was just… Looking.” You offer, cautiously, unsure if any explanation would make it better or worse for yourself, “There’s no harm in looking. Lord Nanami was admirable as a knight, and he’s handsome…”

Worse, if the crease between his eyebrows is anything to go by.

“… But not nearly as handsome as you, my prince.”

That seems to appease Gojo who, with a petty harrumph, relaxed into your touch again. Appealing to his ego always seemed to get you out of trouble. You’d never thought to be grateful for his petulant grouching, but it's music to your ears compared to the spitefulness from a few moments ago.

“I just find it vexing. Why would you ever bat those little eyelashes at Nanamin when you have the Morgan le Fay of men right in front of you to admire?”

“There’s no need for jealousy, Your Highness.”

You were just a humble fangirl admiring your bias, after all. You weren’t made of stone.

“At the stables. During the banquet. Would you like to have a portrait of Nanamin, so you can gawk at him when he’s not here, too?”

You rinse his scalp, running your hands through locks of his hair.

“I am so very sorry, my prince. Speaking of... Uh... Speaking of banquets! I hear there will be a ball."

It's a poor attempt to change the subject, and you can only give Satoru a sheepish, almost apologetic smile when he raises one side of the compress to acknowledge it as such, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

There will be a ball. In a month, to be exact. You know that not just from the growing agitation within the castle, or the coming and going of unfamiliar faces hired for temporary work, but because you had been counting the days for this very event ever since you realized this was the ball that kickstarts the main story, taking place towards the end of the prologue. It meant the heroine would finally show up.

You're not sure what it will mean for you.

“Sure, a ball...” He says, “My old folks said they would invite all the eligible maidens across the land because they want me to find a wife.”

“I'm sure you’re not too psyched about this...”

Prince Satoru vehemently nods in agreement.

“... But who knows? Give it a chance, you might just meet the love of your life there.”

“Pfft– Right, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“And why not?

“Well, what if I already met the love of my life?”

Then that would be some pretty weird timing, Your Highness. Prince Satoru wasn’t supposed to meet the heroine until a few days before the ball takes place, in a beautiful clearing out in the countryside, where they’ll share a lovely meet-cute after he nearly tramples her with his horse.

“Alright…” You spouted, unsure, “Why not bring her to the ball, Your Highness?”

“She’ll be there.”

His rosy lips curve into a conspiratory smirk, mostly to himself, blissfully unaware of the can of worms he just opened inside your mind. Had he already met the heroine? But it was way too early! It couldn’t be– or could it? You’ll have to check the makeshift calendar on your notebook. The timeline you wrote down, as well. There has to be some sort of plot hole you’re missing, or maybe the events have been thrown out of place for some reason.

“But you’re right, maybe a ball won’t be so bad. They said any eligible maiden across the land, rich or poor, of high or low birth. It’s an opportunity!” He announced, the last word said with enough enthusiasm to make you jump.

Once again, you don’t have the time to ask what he means– or to avert your gaze as he abruptly steps out of the bath, getting an eyeful of his bare ass against your will. You pat him dry with a towel as he helps himself to the tray of tarts and macarons. He extends both arms when he’s done so you can slip on the velvet, deep blue robe back on his body. Another towel is wrapped around his head.

The robe keeps him warm as he sits on a chair, waiting for you to come and finalize his night routine. You stay behind in the bathroom, emptying the bathtub, turning out the fire, disposing of the unused boiling water since Prince Satoru had decided to cut his bath short tonight.

When you close the door behind you, the smell of flowers and citrus is still in the air, stuck to his skin. You hum a tune as you brush his hair, its strands like gossamer, offering no resistance to the bristles.

“(Y/N).”

Gojo lifts up his head, not a hint of playfulness in his face or his tone.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

And yet his eyes are soft as they burn into yours, as if thinking, evaluating.

“Who, in this land, is the fairest of all?”

Every time he asks you this, you wonder if there was some dialogue you missed in the game. Nevertheless, the blatant reference makes you want to laugh; with him, though, the answer is always the same. There is no one to overshadow his beauty, objective, obfuscating, infuriatingly incontestable, and he knows that– you know that.

“You alone, my prince, are the fairest of all.”

If you were anyone else, you’d swoon at the smile he graces you with.

“By the way, I have something for you.”

There is a small box on the table he’s seated by, simple, with a golden latch, inconspicuous enough to only catch your attention when Gojo slides it closer, opening it to reveal an assortment of herbs tied together with a string.

“Since you ran out of valerian root…”

There wasn’t a single herb you could recognize, at least not with the dim candlelight. Despite this, you were pretty certain there was no valerian in that box.

“How did you know, Your Highness?”

“Those eyebags under your eyes, I know you haven’t been sleeping well.” He says, matter-of-factly, “Some old hag passed by the hunting lodge today, selling all sorts of things. Said this was a potent mixture of herbs for those with sleeping problems. It’s all safe, I’ve had the royal apothecary check it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, retrieving the box and holding against your chest. You hope it knocks you right out. Heavens know you need it, after today.

“This is so generous, Your Highness… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need.”

He latches the box closed.

“Just have a deep, dreamless sleep for me.”

It was the very witching time of night, and the castle lay silent. Darkness reigned in its corridors, desolate and cold, broken only by flashes of lighting tearing through stygian skies.

Take pity, take pity on one who is sick of love.

Fire dances at the top of a candle, threatening to vanish at any moment, as one living soul treads through slate flooring, airy footsteps growing closer to your chamber door.

Satoru feels guilt twisting inside his stomach, that nauseating feeling of contrition before consummation. It doesn’t stop him, it never did – he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin, but at least he knows he isn’t fully without a conscience. And yet, what is the point of guilt, overridden by excitement, conquered by overwhelming love, as he turns the key to your bedchamber, to defile you once again?

Defile, Satoru thinks to himself, is such an ugly word.

Your door doesn’t creak when opened. A simple spell to ward off prying ears, lest he has to replace another servant; Satoru had come to learn how thin those walls could be, sensitized to the littlest of noises in the dead of night.

He locks the door behind him, placing the candlestick holder on your bedside table.

There’s not much to see in the darkness, except for your pliable, sleeping form. You don’t feel the weight of your mattress shifting, so deep in slumber, as Satoru sits by the edge of your bed with the familiarity of a husband; and he likes to pretend, too, that these late-night rendezvous have an amorous twist to them. Isn’t it romantic, to be visited by a paramour so secretive you’re neither awake nor aware to receive?

What is he, if not a dedicated, twitterpated, infatuated princely lover sneaking through the hallways of his own castle to meet his beautiful dove, his golden trinket, his falcon’s eye–

But he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

Satoru knows there’s nothing appealing about exploiting your vulnerabilities. If you were to ever find out, if you were to open your little eyes at this very second to see him stripping of his undertunic, the lovely relationship you’d built would crumble in a matter of seconds. It would break his heart into a million pieces, to see the horrified look of realization upon your face. And he feels the burning of guilt at the back of his mind, easy to dismiss, as his hands roam your body, past your clocked stockings of cotton and up your white shift.

He would hate to hurt you.

Which is why you’ll never find out. Your relationship can bloom into something far more precious that way, and soon he won’t need these nightly visits to fulfill the base needs you ignite in him. He often dreams of your wedding night, with you awake, receptive to his embrace, and then he’ll finally cross the one line he hasn’t dared to trespass all these years.

The shift is carefully slipped off your body. His cock is dribbling with pre-cum, twitching at the sight of your hardening nipples. He bedews one digit with his saliva as he lays by your side, spreading your legs just enough to slip one hand between to stroke your clit, peppering your breast and neck with kisses, nibbles, and nips.

Your body is more than accustomed to his touch by now – and for a moment, he wonders if you’ll be confused on your wedding night when, just like now, your folds grow wet with so little stimulation. Soon he hears the change in your breathing as it becomes heavier, increasingly ragged, little whines starting to come out of your lips.

Still, you don’t wake.

Not even as he slides a finger inside your soaked entrance.

It’s tight, temptingly tight, torturingly tight, but Satoru has enough self-control not to push himself through your folds. Not tonight. He can wait, he will wait until, eventually, you’ll be awake and willing to take his cock. He takes comfort knowing that day is not too far.

Satoru sits between your legs to rub his cock as he fingers you, biting his lip as not to let a wanton groan out.

"Fuck..."

It's not very regal to swear. He's never done so in front of you.

His voice is already strained, not above a whisper, when he sits up, settling between your legs to rub his cock with one of your limp hands. There are two fingers inside you now, Satoru biting his lip as to repress a moan stuck in his throat. He hates having to keep quiet, but the walls are thin, and it would be a lot more trouble than it's worth to deal with nosy neighbors.

Satoru isn't alarmed when you stir, eyebrows knitted slightly as he kneaded your clit with his thumb. It's not a sign you're waking up.

His fingers are coated in viscid, clear juices, thrusting in and out of your pussy with practiced ease. He can barely keep them inside when you tighten up, little tremors running through your body as you cum with a strangled whimper.

Satoru forgoes your hand in favor of positioning himself on between your folds, using your wetness to rub his length along your pussy, prodding at your clit with each upward motion. He’s lying atop you now, muscled chest glued to yours, gently suckling on your neck and muffling his low, guttural groans on your skin. His hips move at a controlled pace, refraining himself from how rough he wants to be with you – he’s still hung up about Nanami, after all –, feeling his own orgasm approach.

Your bed doesn’t creak, either.

He thinks of finally being enveloped by your insides, how your velvety walls would choke his cock when he made you cum. How your lips would touch his and you’d kiss, really kiss, how your body would respond to his touch when awake. What faces would you make for him? Would you look away, embarrassed, throw your arms around him and hold him tightly to you? He was dying to see you, to fill your womb as he looked deep into your open eyes.

Satoru Gojo isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

He’s delusional to a fault. And as much as he feels bad for you, for his horrible acts of debauchery against your unresponsive body – and all other perversions along the way – there’s hardly any guilt when he grips his cock with a tight fist, tugging at his length as spurts of pearly-white cum land on your bare stomach. His chest heaves, breath labored, half-lidded blue eyes staring at his handiwork with a dopey smile on his face.

Lightning illuminates the room, followed by thunder rumbling so deeply across the earth he swears he feels the walls shake. Candlelight flickers.

He cleans you up, not a trace of arousal to be found when he’s done, shift slipped back onto your body. For a moment, he sits at the edge of your bed again, leaning back on his arms. How he would love to wake up with you between his arms – but alas, you’d be much alarmed to see him by your side when morning comes.

He dresses himself, not before placing a chaste kiss goodnight on your forehead.

A ball, he ponders, that ought to be fun.

And as he leaves, candlestick holder in hand, locking the door behind him, there’s no guilt badgering his mind – only dresses. A selection of skirts and frills fluttering about, an appointment with the best seamstress in the kingdom; Satoru wonders which design he’ll choose for you to wear at the ball, smiling smugly to himself as he skips down the hallway, back to his chambers.

You wake with a startle, groggy, disoriented.

Resting in its usual spot at your bedside table, your trusty pocket watch indicates you’ve woken up a little over fifteen minutes later than you’re supposed to – Not too bad of a delay, which eases your initial panic. You’ll have to hurry up a bit when getting ready, but at least you won’t be late for work.

The herbs have worked a little too well, you conclude – gifted you dreamless sleep, devoid of interruptions, knocking you out barely an hour after drinking the tea you brewed. Although you had yet to fully wake up, there was newfound motivation to get on with your day after a much-needed good night’s sleep.

You make a mental note to properly thank Prince Satoru again. It was unexpectedly considerate of him to notice.

A shiver runs down your body as fresh air enters through your bedchamber window, caressing your face with its gelid touch. You see movement downstairs, servants and knights who have begun their day earlier than you. Beyond castle walls you saw the city, merchants coming and going through dirt roads among trees painted in breathtaking yellows, oranges and reds, its fallen leaves scattered over green grass. In the distance, you see neighboring villages and castles so far they nearly fade into the horizon. The sun is out again, blue skies adorned by white, fluffy clouds.

The faint, comforting smell of freshly baked bread hits your nostrils.

You should get ready– you don’t want to be late, of course. But there is time for a quick look in the mirror, to check if your exhaustion-induced eyebags have been minimized, even if ever-so-slightly. It’s only then that you notice, attention diverted from the area around your eyes, three small, faint red spots on your neck and collarbone.

You touch them, briefly wondering where they could possibly have come from; but you don’t have the time to dwell on it for more than a few seconds, your neck will be covered regardless. One last look at the mysterious marks and you shrug, brushing them off. It’s nothing to worry about, anyway.

Must have been a bedbug.

#tw noncon #tw somno #tw somnophilia #tw yandere #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo x you #yandere jjk x reader #cw yandere #dark fic

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sunni-stuff · 9 months ago

Text

Good things happen to those who wait.

—★! Tags: NSFW, MDNI, AFAB! Slow?? Sex toys, a man way too big, size kink. Fingering.

★- Part 4 here!!

You regret missing it. The night GD streamed, you were stuck at work and time was not on your side. Even if you managed to show up, you doubted you could compete with those who had bottomless wallets for donations. By the time you got home, the stream had ended and a lucky winner had claimed their prize, leaving you frustrated at being outdone by someone with more money to spare.

After that, there was a complete lack of communication. No live streams, no new videos. Total silence for five long months. You couldn't help but constantly check his page, refreshing it so frequently that your browser started suggesting it the moment you typed in his name. It was necessary; what if he suddenly returned and started streaming while you weren't paying attention? That would be unacceptable. So you remained his dedicated watcher, eagerly anticipating his return to once again capture your heart and even cause some inevitable arousal.

With no new posts to peruse, you exhausted all of the content already shared on his page. His previous streams and videos became a regular part of your nightly routine – laptop open, legs spread, fingers working their magic as you reached climax again and again. But in just a matter of weeks, this routine grew stale and your fingers failed to satisfy you. You craved something real, something similar to the man who had become your obsession.

On your day off, you made a choice to be daring and try something completely new. Not too far from where you live, there was a sex shop with its bold black exterior and eye-catching logo, "Don't ask, Won't tell." You never thought you'd ever have a reason to step foot inside until today. Trying to remain inconspicuous, you dressed casually in a gray hoodie and shorts, praying that no one from your complex would spot you as you wandered around the small store.

You quickly located the Dildo section in the far corner of the store, it was strategically placed away from prying eyes, giving you the freedom to browse without feeling self-conscious. The selection was overwhelming; there were dildos of all shapes, sizes, and colors that you didn't even know existed. A row of bright and vibrant toys caught your eye, ranging from hot pink to deep purple. Upon closer inspection, you noticed that some were smaller than others and angled differently - some leaning more to the right or left. Curious, you read the label below that simply read "beginners." Were these meant for beginners? You couldn't help but feel a little cocky; surely you could handle more than just beginner-level toys.

Your gaze drifted down to the shelf below, where a collection of dildos labeled as "intermediate" caught your eye. They were all around 5 inches long, a decent size, and you found yourself reaching out to touch a deep blue one that fit perfectly in your palm. But upon closer inspection, it wasn't the right one. It wasn't like his - GD's. You needed something that would remind you of him.

So you moved on to the last row, where the sign in bright red read "Expert". These dildos were flesh-colored and ranged from 6-8 inches in size. They looked almost identical to his. You picked up a realistic-looking one with a caucasian skin tone, measuring at 7 pushing 8 inches. It was thick and veiny, standing tall and proud unlike the ones in the first row. This was the one you wanted - it was as close as you could get to experiencing him.

You approach the cashier, trying your best to avoid making eye contact with her. But her questioning look, as if asking "are you sure about this?", burns your face with embarrassment. The transaction is completed hastily, almost as if the cashier wants you out of the store before it becomes too awkward. You grab the discreet black bag from her hands and make a hasty exit.

You let out a deep sigh as you leave the shop, knowing all that was left to do was walk back to the apartment. It was a simple twenty-minute trek, maybe twenty-five if you got unlucky and had to wait for a red light at the stopwalk. You started on your way, clutching the shopping bag tightly, afraid that passerby's might try to peer inside. As you rounded the corner, a single raindrop landed on your head, followed by more until it was pouring without warning.

The unexpected downpour caught you off guard with little time to react. You were positive that the forecast called for clear skies, so you didn't bother bringing any protection. As droplets of water hit your skin, your eyes dart around in search of shelter. Finally, you spot the bus stop with its small roof offering some relief. With bare ankles splashing through puddles, you hurry towards it.

Taking shelter at the bus stop was a much better option than attempting to walk in this downpour. It was already raining hard enough to make a twenty-minute walk feel like eternity, and you would have been completely soaked if you had attempted it. Now, at least, you could relax a bit, knowing that you were somewhat protected and dry. All you had left to do was wait for the storm to pass. As you take out your phone from your pocket to check the weather app, a sudden shadow looms over you and a large figure squeezes into the small space next to you.

You quickly lifted your gaze from your phone and had to tilt your head back to meet the imposing figure who squeezed into the already cramped area. It was a man, who paid no attention to you whatsoever. He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled tightly over his head and a black surgical mask covering his face except for his piercing brown eyes. Those same eyes locked onto yours as he noticed you staring at him.

Your body tensed up, and you averted your gaze, avoiding looking at him altogether. You couldn't help but think, "Could he be any more intimidating?"

The two of you stood next to each other in utter quietness for what felt like an eternity. He kept his gaze fixed ahead while you found yourself inexplicably fascinated by your own shoes. A sudden, loud splash caught your attention and you looked up just in time to see a group of children running by, gleefully splashing and playing in the puddles.

The combination of mud and water was heading straight towards you, ready to create a messy situation. But before it could hit you, he smoothly stepped in front and took the full force of the splash. He grunted as the liquid hit him, but he shook his head and glanced at the kids who seemed oblivious to the mess they had caused.

You were taken aback by his sudden actions, and you couldn't help but look back and forth between him and the mess on his previously spotless hoodie. The stain was large, surely leaving a big wet spot. "I- I mean, you didn't have to do that." You cursed yourself for saying the wrong thing as he raised an eyebrow. "Damn, that’s not what I meant."

He shakes his head and lets out a low chuckle. " 'S okay."

As soon as he spoke, you froze in place. His voice was unmistakably deep and one that you had heard before. You couldn't help but wonder if you were overreacting. Out of the corner of your eye, you observed him as he attempted to wipe away some moisture on his hoodie with a handkerchief. As far as you could tell, there were no visible tattoos on him.

Apart from that, you couldn't help but sympathize with him. He didn't have to do this at all. It was refreshing to see chivalry still existed, and the least you could do was assist him. "Do you live close by?" you inquire, causing him to pause and turn his gaze towards you.

They say that everything in life is predetermined by fate, and it seems like fate had a plan for you when you asked that seemingly innocent question. Little did you know, your simple act set off a chain reaction of events. He lived far away, but you couldn't let him go on with that stain on his hoodie. So after the rain stopped, you brought him back to your apartment complex and showed him to the laundry room.

“Just give me a moment to grab my detergent. The stuff the landlord gives us is terrible.” You told him, motioning for him to take a seat on the nearby chair, which he did without saying a word. You quickly went up to your apartment and threw the bag on the couch before heading into the bathroom to retrieve the detergent. As you headed back downstairs, the scene in front of you left you speechless.

The man had removed his jacket and tossed it into the laundry, his back tense and facing away from you. He was dressed in a grey t-shirt that revealed his defined forearms. You couldn't help but recognize the tattoos decorating his skin. Could it really be him?

You had to act casual, not let your excitement show. You didn't want to seem like some creep and scare him off like a desperate fool. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you approach him with a gentle smile and present the bottle of detergent. "This will make your hoody spotless and leave it smelling amazing."

He turns his masked face towards you, revealing dirty blonde hair and a weathered complexion. It's not the kind of wear and tear that comes with age, but something else. "You have a staring habit," he says bluntly, catching you off guard. You didn't even realize you were staring at him.

You feel like you're about to jump out of your skin, but you manage to compose yourself. "Sorry," you apologize quietly as you approach the washing machine. You pour in a generous amount of detergent for his jacket and close the lid with a firm click. "The washers here aren't great, so if you want, you can come up to my apartment until it's finished." Normally, you wouldn't invite a total stranger into your home, hell you wouldn't have even let him see which complex you lived in, but your curiosity gets the best of you.

He stands there with his arms crossed, scanning you from head to toe. His intense gaze makes you feel exposed, as if he can see right through you. "I'll only be here until it's finished," he says in a smooth yet cautious tone. After all, you are a stranger. He understands that and so do you.

With a nod, you lead him up to your apartment, locking it behind you once you step in last. He seems to pause, taking it all in, glancing around at every little thing but not touching.

After a brief nod of your head, you guide him up to your apartment and lock the door behind you as soon as you both enter. He takes a moment to survey the space, his eyes scanning every detail but not daring to touch anything. You set your keys down on the kitchen counter while he settles onto the couch, trying to get comfortable. His gaze falls upon the black bag resting nearby, and although he doesn't reach for it, he does lean in closer to see what's inside.

You step out, and he's back to his usual self, sitting motionless as if nothing had happened. You realize you completely forgot about the bag in your hand; it was an easy oversight. Smiling at him, you take a seat in the armchair across from him, but he catches you off guard. "You seem like the last person who would shop at that kind of store."

As he speaks, you feel a pang of confusion and want to confront him about his words. However, your attention is diverted by the black bag you left out in the open. Your face flushes with embarrassment and your jaw drops, but you're unable to utter any words or even come up with an excuse.

His smirk grew as he observed your flustered reaction. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes gave it away. "I was just joking, didn't think it would make you so shy."

You huff and lean back in the chair, feeling defensive. You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze as you say, "I'm not shy. I just…"

"Just?" He teased, casually draping an arm over the couch.

Feeling self-conscious, you defended yourself with a shy tone and blushing cheeks. “It’s perfectly normal to want a change.” you explained.

All he does is hum, but his eyes are fixed on you. Those damn eyes that seem to see right through you. "A little big don't you think?" He nods towards the bag.

You widen your eyes in surprise and finally gather the courage to confront him directly. "That's quite a bold topic to bring up with someone you barely know," you say.

"Coming from the woman who allowed a stranger into her home without even knowing my name, that's rich, love."

Touché.

“So whats your name then?”

“Simon.”

“Mines is y/n”

The two of you began to talk or rather you talked up a storm. As you spoke, he sat there and actually listened. Despite being the one to do most of the talking, he let you vent about work for almost ten solid minutes without interrupting. All he did was nod along, showing that he was truly paying attention.

You asked about his job and he wasn't very forthcoming, only mentioning that he traveled frequently. You ventured to ask his age and discovered he was twenty-eight years old. He didn't seem eager to talk about himself, so you changed the subject out of respect for his privacy.

He wasn't exactly the most exciting person, but he had his moments. Every so often, he'd tell a cheesy dad joke that made you giggle. You loved seeing the sparkle in his eyes whenever he cracked a joke. The two of you were having such a good time together that before you knew it, an hour had passed and you could hear the familiar beep of the washing machine downstairs. "Hold on, I'll grab your hoodie," you say as you get up and step out of the apartment for a moment.

He sat alone, quietly anticipating your return. By chance, the two of you had crossed paths, a coincidence he was grateful for because… he knew who you were. He noticed you struggling to make connections in your mind while he had already recognized you.

He had come across your profile on his streaming platform. You were a new fan, which he could tell based on your activity. How? Your profile picture was of yourself, and you never participated in the chat or donated. This piqued his curiosity about you, but he didn't bother reaching out at the time. However, when he saw you waiting at the bus stop in the same city as him, he took a chance and decided to approach you.

Now he was currently sitting in your apartment while you were busy downstairs. His gaze kept returning to the toy inside the bag, a flimsy and unnecessary item in his opinion. Why would someone like you need a toy? Surely you had a boyfriend, right? He heard your footsteps approaching and quickly turned to watch as you entered the room. "Why the toy?" he asked curiously.

You approached him and handed him his jacket, just cleaned and now carrying a hint of lavender. He brought up the dildo again, but you were feeling more assured this time. "As I said before, I wanted to experiment with something different."

He snorted in disbelief at those words, reaching over and holding up the black bag. "Why would you need this when you have a boyfriend, right? You do have one, don't you?" Simon secretly wished that you didn't have a boyfriend. You were too beautiful to be with someone who couldn't satisfy you.

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you quickly take the bag from his hand and set it on the ground. "No, I don't have a boyfriend and so what if I have a dildo, what's it to you?”

For the first time, Simon is at a loss for words. He's confused, and even he doesn't understand why he cares so much. What he says next surprises not just you, but himself as well. "I could do better."

How the hell are you supposed to react to that? What would be an appropriate response? Was it meant as a joke, maybe? "Yeah, right, and pigs can fly." You try to rebut with a half-hearted tone, still uncertain of how to handle the situation.

As he sits up, his posture becomes rigid and his gaze locks onto yours. His eyes, a deep brown like icy orbs, possess an inexplicable warmth when focused on you. He takes a moment to assess you, his gaze lingering on your hips before meeting your eyes once more. You can feel the weight of his stare, as if he is trying to read your every thought and emotion. His expression remains stoic but there is an intensity in his eyes that cannot be ignored.

The realization washes over you like a wave, leaving behind a tingling sensation that starts in your toes and travels up your spine. He's serious…actually serious. Your heart races as his intense gaze bores into yours, causing a familiar heat to pool in the pit of your stomach and spread through your body. Your intuition spikes, confirming what your body already knows - there's only one man who can make you feel this way. It's ironic, really, that getting turned on was the only indication that he is the mysterious streamer you've been pining after for so long.

A bead of sweat forms on your forehead as you struggle to maintain a composed exterior, but inside you can't deny the desire that surges through you. Simon practically offered himself on a silver platter, you couldn't let this opportunity slip by. You could feel the tension in the air as he waited for your response. "Prove it then," the words escaped your lips in a rush, betraying your eagerness. But it was too late to take them back now. The anticipation and lust swirling between the two of you was palpable, like electricity in the air. Your pulse quickened as you prepared for what was to come next.

After hearing your confirmation, Simon's eyes darken, their once warm hue turning into a deep and intense shade. He slowly rises from his seat on the couch, his tall frame easily towering over you. Without saying a word, his large hand comes to rest on your hip, gently brushing his thumb in tender circles. His touch brings a sense of warmth that radiates off of him, causing you to tremble slightly. You can feel how gentle he is with you, knowing exactly how to handle you with care and tenderness.

With a firm grip on your waist, he gently guides you onto his lap. His strong thighs support your weight effortlessly, as if you were weightless in his arms. Simon tenderly presses his lips against your neck, his surgical mask now discarded, leaving his warm breath and soft kisses to trail down your neck and over your shoulder. The feeling sends shivers down your spine and causes you to squirm involuntarily, releasing a shaky gasp from your lips.

Desperate to catch a glimpse of his true identity, you strain your neck to see his face, but he squeezes your waist possessively. You felt his warm breath on your neck as he murmured, "You'll get to see if you behave, love." A soft kiss was pressed to the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck, making you whine with need. Despite your curiosity, you couldn't resist the calming effect of his embrace. The need to know his true appearance still lingers, but you trust in his promise and enjoy the moment with him.

His rough hands glide up and down the curves of your body, pressing firmly against your back as he pulls you closer. You can feel his chest rising and falling against you, and you can't ignore the bulge in his pants pressed against your plush ass. Despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you can sense every inch of him. He is just as large and intimidating as you had seen from watching him on screen. Perhaps even too big for you to handle. Simon's hand ventures underneath your hoodie and slips beneath your shirt, his calloused fingers tracing slow circles on your stomach. Though they are rough and coarse, they mold you like soft dough in a baker's hands. You feel like a piece of bread ready to be shaped according to his will.

With a deep sigh of relief, you let your eyes flutter closed, the tension slowly draining from your body. Soft moans escape your lips as his hands work their magic, easing away the stress and bringing a sense of pleasure to every inch of you. Your eyes snap open as one hand ventures underneath the band of your panties and gently strokes between your legs. You can feel the corner of his lips curl up in a confident smirk against the sensitive skin of your neck. "Already so wet," he whispers huskily, making you crave more of his touch.

Simon's fingers glide over your clit, causing it to quiver under his touch. He's exploring, trying to figure out what turns you on. When your body responds with a subtle yearning for more, he applies pressure with his index and middle finger, gently swirling them around your sensitive spot. You inhale sharply, almost unconsciously closing your legs at the sensation of a new hand wandering all over your body.

As Simon's fingers glide over your body, you feel a rush of electricity shoot through you. His touch is tentative at first, exploring the curves and crevices of your skin as if he is mapping out every inch. When he finally reaches your clit, it feels like a firework has been lit inside of you. Heat spreads from the contact point to every nerve ending in your body. You can't help but huff as he presses down with his index and middle finger, creating a slow, tantalizing swirl against your sensitive nub. Your breaths come in quick pants as your body responds to the unfamiliar sensation, arching towards his touch and almost closing up in surprise.

Gently, Simon nudges your thighs apart with his own, a low growl escaping him as he nibbles on your ear, his breath is hot against your skin. “That's a good girl,” he whispers, his voice gruff and full of desire. “Let me take care of you.” His touch is featherlight, teasing and electrifying, making it hard for you to focus on anything else. As one hand wanders up and down your body, the other finds its way to your perky breast, kneading and caressing it gently. Simon is determined to leave no part of you untouched, his actions attacking all of your physical senses at once.

A sharp pinch on your hardened nipple elicits a tiny squeal from you, and he responds by gently kissing your cheek. His lips trail up and down your jawline, providing comfort for your cry. Your slick has already coated his fingers, and it now seeps through not only your shorts but also your panties. He can feel the wet spot on his knee, evidence of your arousal. "Your pretty cunt doesn't get enough attention," he remarks, observing the way you're leaking all over him with a smirk on his face.

He uttered that word, "pretty," in such a raw way that it only made you more aroused. He noticed how wet you were and withdrew his fingers, teasingly waving them in front of your face as you try to catch your breath. "Look at the mess you've made," he says, running his fingers against your lips. You obey and open your mouth, tasting the salty slickness on your tongue.

The vulgarity of his words shot dopamine straight to that lust-filled brain of yours, and you couldn't deny the fluttering arousal that followed. He noticed this and pulled his fingers back from between your legs, holding them up to your face. Your breath came in short gasps as he taunted you with your own slick moisture glistening on his fingertips. "What a mess you made," he said, rubbing his fingers against your lips, encouraging you to open them. You complied eagerly, tasting the tangy saltiness of yourself on your tongue. It only made you want him more.

You suck on his finger, savoring the taste of yourself as your tongue laps at it with eagerness. The taste of yourself lingers on his skin, sweet and intoxicating. Simon's eyes are glued to you, mesmerized by your actions. His pants feel unbearably tight, but he knows he must take things slow and loosen you up before he can have you completely.

“Want me to keep going?” Simon asked in a commanding tone, and when you nodded, he shook his head. "I need words from you, Doll. Tell me what you want."

Your lips feel swollen as you bite down on them, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. But you can't forget your current position and the events that led to it. "I want more Simon, please."

Simon grunts and nods, taking his finger out of your mouth and holding onto your hips with both hands. He guides you to lean against his strong chest, positioning you so you can see his face. His rugged appearance, with a fresh stubble brushing against your soft skin, adds to his appeal. A cut on his nose gives him a rougher look, but it only makes him more attractive. He uses his fingers to collect your wetness and spreads it over your clenched opening. Taking advantage of your distraction, Simon slowly inserts his index finger into your tight hole.

He can't help but groan at the incredible tightness he encounters with just one finger. Your walls squeeze and cling onto him as if your life depends on it. It's a good thing he's taking the time to loosen you up, because if his cock were to experience this level of tightness, he'd have you pinned down on the couch in no time, causing your knees to shake uncontrollably.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion, his large index finger feeling almost intrusive as it slowly enters you. It fills you more than your own fingers ever could. Simon tenderly kisses the side of your lips, reassuring you. "It's okay, I've got you…I've got you." He pauses to make sure you're comfortable before continuing. His fingers continue to explore with care, his thumb gently pressing against your sensitive clit to mask any pain with pleasure. A deep moan escapes him as he feels your walls pulsating around him, making his cock throb in anticipation within his boxers. It begs for attention.

You looked up at him, your eyes blinking rapidly as you flinched when he slowly inserted another finger into your tight and slippery opening. It was a bit too much to handle, but you forced yourself to bear it with clenched teeth and an open mouth. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin had goosebumps all over from the stimulation. The pain gradually turned into a hint of pleasure, causing your nipples to harden in response. His two fingers moved in and out at a slow pace, your whimpers of discomfort slowly transformed into moans of pleasure. Simon quickly found a rhythm, picking up speed until there were wet slurping sounds coming from the movement of his fingers inside you.

The intensity of the moment was immeasurable. The sight of you writhing on his lap, your body shuddering and your walls gripping around his fingers, drove him to grunt loudly in response. He could feel his own cock throbbing and pulsing with desperate need as he watched you shatter before him. With deliberate care, he curved his finger and found a sweet spot deep inside you that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Taking note of this, Simon altered his rhythm and started moving faster, his fingers thrusting in and out with an almost frantic pace.

But he didn't forget about that special spot, and each time he hit it, it sent waves of ecstasy through your body, leaving you breathless and craving more. You were starved for touch, and Simon could tell by how eagerly you pushed against his hand, your hips seeking out his fingers no matter how deep they delved inside you. He was playing you like a skilled musician, knowing exactly which strings to pluck to elicit the most intense reactions from your body. And despite only having just met him, Simon seemed to have a better understanding of your own body than yourself.

He knows that adding a third finger now would be too much for you to handle. Instead, he expertly curls both fingers inside of you and uses his other hand to pinch and tweak your swollen clit. The pleasure is overwhelming and has you seeing stars and cumming far too soon. Your whole body arches off of him, your legs trembling like leaves in the wind as your orgasm crashes over you uncontrollably. You weren't given any build up or time to prepare, it came on full force and ready. When you come down from your high, he pulls his fingers out of your quivering core, holding you close with one arm while the other shifts you slightly for comfort. His pants are now slick with your release, evidence of your intense climax.

Mindful of your orgasm, he gently lifts you up and places you onto the plush couch. You sit there for a moment, heart racing and breath catching in your chest. Your mind is dizzy with pleasure, trying to process everything that has transpired. Suddenly, a metallic clank and a loud zip interrupt your thoughts, causing you to open one eye and peer up at Simon.

He stands directly in front of you, blocking out the rest of the world with his strong body. As your eyes trail downward, you come face to face with the very same girthy cock that had captivated you on screen. Up close, it was even more daunting and intimidating than before. Thick veins pulsed along its length, the tip glistening with precum from being pressed against his boxer briefs. His heavy balls hung low and full, adding to the overwhelming image before you.

"You didn't think this was over, did you?"

♡! This one is really long but I don't like how I did the sex scene that much. o(TヘTo). Expect more of Simon talking in the next!!

˚ ✦ . Taglist (People who commented): @theirkenfiles @@crazy-phan-girl13 @forgotten-lego-piece

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost smut #simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #cod x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty smut #mayadarlings

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ihatedtoadmit · 3 months ago

Text

Art study

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: ...suggestive

warnings: nothing actually happens, so none besides teasing

word count: ~1.3k

summary: You're doing an art study on muscles, and who's a better candidate for reference than your wonderful boyfriend who keeps feeding his delulu fanbase with half-naked pictures?

a/n: Well well well, Nat, you don't have to pay to see me write something like this after all (if you will ever see this, because no chance am I tagging you or anyone, dear). Here, have fun, this is the most spice anyone can get out of my asexual ass.

↳ Main Masterlist

You were a very reserved person, something your partner knew all too well. Every touch the two of you shared throughout the entirety of your relationship had no heat behind it, each one only fueled by pure adoration and love. Never once did a kiss turn hungry, hell, there had barely been any kisses the two of you had shared due to your lack of need for the action. Chan knew it all too well, and while he craved more, he also respected it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make you uncomfortable, and so he’d never stepped over that line.

That was the exact reason for his current shyness, the confusion that wanted to sit onto his face hard to mask. There he stood in your doorway, the desk before your hunched form cluttered with pencils and little crumbs of dirty erasers. You were entirely too focused on the task at hand to notice your boyfriend's presence, the song that flowed through your headphones much too loud to hear any footsteps or even words. And so you continued drawing, clueless about anything as your lover watched you work, eyes flitting between your sketch and the endless reference pictures on your screen.

Pictures about him, his back fully on display and unclothed.

A touch broke you out of your concentration as you erased a line for the fourth time, scaring you into throwing away the pencil in your clutches just so you could tear the headphones off your head.

“Interesting art you have there, love.” - Chan mused, yet his skin was as flushed as ever.

You joined him as you could feel your own skin heating up, ashamed that you’d been caught like this. Eyes looked at everything besides your boyfriend, yet you found comfort in that warm touch of his.

“I was just… doing a study, on muscles.” - the words were but a mere whisper, hand quickly reaching to minimise your browser and just hide it from a certain pair of prying eyes.

Still, there was a feeling clawing at the cage of your soul, ripping at the flesh to be let out and rampage freely. It was feral and vicious, planting a thought into your head that seemed impossible to get out, no matter how alien it felt. You could feel your breath hitch at the image that popped into your head, memories of the images you had been staring at for a while now overlapping.

The hand on your shoulder gently squeezed, breaking you out of your derailing thoughts.

“I don't mind, baby, it just… caught me off guard? Glad you enjoyed my performances though.” - Chan’s voice was light, mixing well with the shyness he was trying to hide.

It only urged that fierceness inside to break free, granting you a surge of confidence you would have never had otherwise.

Without any words you finally glanced up at the man you loved, finding him utterly handsome; you would hone your artistic skills for the rest of your life just to capture a fragment of that beauty. His skin was dusted with a faint red, ears painted by the deepest of shades. Those eyes you loved to get lost in were alight with an emotion you had seen them only hold whenever he looked at the boys, and it took your breath away within a heartbeat.

Your body moved on its own, towering over him as you now stood. His hair was still slightly wet from the shower he must have just taken, and you just knew he had been originally on his way to his room to swap his bathrobe for those comfy, black clothes he loved to don in his free time.

He searched your gaze, unsure, yet trusting. His hands comfortably placed themselves onto your hips; their touch was warm, the man before you always running hot. It was something you loved as he balanced out your always cold hands wonderfully, reaching the perfect temperature you both enjoyed.

“Hey, love. How was work today?” - you asked, leaning closer than usual as you swiped those dark curls out of Chan’s face. He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second as he thought about his answer.

“The usual, although Hyunjin managed to piss off Minho again. It was a shoe this time that was the weapon, by the way.” - there was an airiness of joy to his words, yet no laugh accompanied it.

No, Chan was entirely too enamoured with the look you were giving him, as if you were worshipping him with your eyes alone. And maybe you were. With each look you studied the way your lover's skin moved, the shadows conforming accordingly. It lured you in, as if Chan was the siren and you were his prey, fated to be drowned in the vast oceans and seas.

He didn't move as you took him all in, hands eventually unable to keep themselves away. Your fingers were cold against the warmth of his fair skin, and you could hear his breath hitch, the muscles inside his neck moving beautifully.

There was something different in your touch, that much he knew, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

As if you had never seen anything like it before, your hands glided over any free expanse of skin you could reach, memorising how the muscles hidden beneath curved and jumped at your touch. Never once did your eyes stray, wanting to remember every little detail. You wanted your art to be perfect, after all, to represent the real thing as closely as possible and that meant every little detail in their complete glory.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the white robe blocked you off, and so you slightly slid it off from one of Chan's shoulders. His hold on you tightened and you glanced at him briefly, seeing an intensity burning in those dark eyes, one you had never seen before.

You were playing with fire, and you could feel the heat of the danger.

Despite the clear wanting signs, you ignored them much like Icarus, hands now gliding down your lover's arm. Each touch held meaning, praising him in silence, singing odes about this man’s beauty. There was something so intriguing about watching the muscles connect to skin and bone, oh so perfectly toned and reacting to every touch of yours.

You stepped even closer, breaths mingling together as you reached into his robe, mapping out the vast skin of your partner's back. Every dip, every rise and imperfection was noted inside your head, the scorching star in Chan's eyes only growing in intensity as time passed. Your eyes flitted between those deadly stars and his neck, seeing it strain, muscles so tight that they jumped out of the skin in that lovely V-shape you could never grow bored of.

Then, as if something snapped, he gripped your waist with incredible force, not giving you a chance to escape. Despite that, no fear took residence inside you, your now warm fingers still laid peacefully on his shoulders.

“And what do I owe this extremely special moment to, baby?” - his words were a deep rumble, eyes begging for an answer with desperation.

“For being the most beautiful human to grace this planet, my wonderful love. Be my muse, please. Let me draw you, let me study you.” - you answered, one hand now cupping Chan's cheek tenderly, despite the uniquely heated situation.

As if that was the magic word to undo his binding, your lover moved, hauling your taller form easily onto the bed with him. There you were now, sat on his lap as he looked up at you expectantly, the intensity and love never diminishing in those bright eyes of his. Your sketchbook was still sitting beside you on the bed where you had originally thrown it at, hands itching to take it and immortalise what you had engraved into your mind in the past few minutes.

“I'll be your muse whenever, baby. All you needed to do was ask.”

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preseriesdean · 6 months ago

Note

if you don’t mind me asking, could you share some of your favorite fanfics or authors? thanks ❤️

oh hi hello!! yes of course!! i actually haven't read any spn fic in a while but i have spent a lot of time organizing my bookmarks. i'm going to assume that you meant samdean fic but i'll add a few non-samdean ones at the end.

authors!

@zmediaoutlet (deadlybride on ao3)

candle_beck (ao3)

@goshen-applecrumbledore (ao3)

whereupon (livejournal)

Linden (ao3)

sevenfists (ao3)

there are so many more great authors but these came to mind :)

fics!

i am going to list my forever-favorites first - the ones i would recommend to anyone and everyone, screaming-from-the-rooftops kind of love - and then many many more under the cut.

beloved by urchinesque (2016, 1.9k, NR, warning: death) It might be the gentlest thing that's ever happened to them.

in my opinion everyone should read this once. it's quick. they die. it's-- happy, somehow. beautiful. i think about it all the time.

Last Day on Earth by candle_beck (2009, 10.8k, E) A list of things to do if you only have one day to live, presented in inconvenient non-list form.

last year my best friend and i were pondering which fic felt quintessential to samdean for us and somehow settled on this one. i still agree with the choice.

Odysseus, American by coyotesuspect (2010, 10k, M) Dean finds Peter O'Toole's recording of the Odyssey in a bin marked “Audio" in Casa Grande's only used bookstore. The place smells like cigarette smoke and old books, and it reminds him of Sam. Stanford era.

my favorite stanford era fic. i think it captures dean's loneliness and desperation beautifully.

A man with his insides out and his outsides off by britomart_is (2016, 5.3k, E, time travel, underage) They say there are only two stories in the world: man goes on a journey, and stranger comes to town.

another fic i want everyone to read. it's so short and feels like a novel. sam is messed up and dean is in love and everything is miserable.

Breathing Hard by whereupon (2009, 9k, E) The day Dean figures it out.

this is so simple and yet-- everything to me. i can't think about dinosaurs without thinking about this fic, which doesn't tell you much, but you'll see. sometimes this is really all you need.

The Last Outpost of All That Is by gekizetsu (2008, 59k, E) The world ends while they’re asleep.

this fic has stayed with me my whole life. i thought about it even during my years away from spn and fandom entirely. they're alone and you don't know why and they build their life together and you end up wondering, is this hell or heaven? whenever i come across a screenshot of the last couple of paragraphs i want to cry.

see things so much clearer by deadlybride (2020, 11.7k, E) Sam's been acting oddly. Dean learns how to use the history on an internet browser and finds out why.

this is a fic that hits the spot for me personally so well. another favorite preseries fic. i love the idea of sam using livejournal, and of dean finding out this way.

Stay The Distance by lazy_daze (2011, 24k, E) Sam is dependent on Dean's touch and closeness after the wall falls - Dean's presence reminds him of why he chose to wake up, and keeps the memories at bay, allowing Sam to function.

i love enmeshment, and i love that here it's literal. i love that they're just sort of fine with it.

more fics below!

in absolutely no particular order whatsover. please check the warnings and tags on these before reading!

Recall by De_Nugis (2012, 6.3k, E) Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

Living in god's blind spot by applecrumbledore (2022, 25k, E) Of all the situations Dean didn’t need his dad to see him in, ‘getting off to being pushed around by a guy’ was in the top three. And ‘a guy’ was a massive glossing-over of reality. Any guy—any other guy—would be bad enough, but Sam was fucking cataclysmic.

Almost At Home by balefully (2008, 24.3k, E) Sam graduates from high school in early June in rural Tennessee. He and Dean start the summer with an all-nighter of celebration; the day after, while both fight hangovers, John calls to assign them their first hunt by themselves.

they said it was the fall of man by jukeboxhound (2016, 7.4k, M) Sam gets his soul back on a Monday.

When I Fall Asleep It Is Your Eyes That Close by britomart_is (2009, 1.9k, E) Post-Season Two. Sam is alive. Dean is happy.

Life As We Know It by sevenfists (2007, 13.7k, M, curtain fic) On the morning that Sam woke up, Dean ran five red lights on the way to the hospital, his half-empty coffee cup sloshing in the holder.

tied up like two ships by orphan_account (2014, 3.1k, E) Dean liked to hold hands.

Gospel Truth by Cerberuss (2020, 15.2k, E, case fic) ‘DOES YOUR BROTHER KNOW THAT YOU WANT HIM?’ Individually placed letters, bold and tinged brown with the weather. Sam can’t look away and he prays, dream dream dream.

Buy You A Mockingbird by candle_beck (2011, 10.3k, M, underage, outsider pov) A genuine horror story.

because you want to die for love by hathfrozen (2021, 27.3k, E) Sam and Dean settle into their Heaven—and into each other, too.

the constant vow by deadlybride (2022, 119k, E, fem dean-ish) They've just finished up a pretty standard job and are killing time in snowy Wisconsin when Dean wakes up no longer looking like Dean. That's just the start of their problems.

This Fortress Made of Us by mickeym (2009, 10.8k, E) Sam really didn't do very well without his brother. Coda for Mystery Spot.

State of Love and Trust/As I Busted Down the Pretext by cormallen (2010, 2.9k, M) When you know exactly what your brother's thinking, there are some chances you just don't take.

Quiet with the Rain by Linden (2014, 5.3k, T) Dean can spot an undercover cop at thirty paces, a hooker at twenty, and rims that will match his baby's at ten. But the fact that his little brother is in love with him—that, he can't see worth a damn.

have a cigar by deadlybride (2020, 5.6k, E) What happened with Andy and Ansem unsettles Sam. Dean doesn't seem worried.

Heart Shaped Balloon by winsive (2022, 18.5k, E, underage) Sam and Dad are fighting. No surprise, but it's the weekend before Valentine's Day and Dean isn't missing out on the chance to bang a cheerleader just to console his bratty little brother. He does bring back a heart shaped balloon for him, though. It's not supposed to be cursed.

Bare by gracerene (2022, 2.2k, T) Of all the things Dean hasn't done before, Sam never expected something as innocuous as skinny dipping to be on the list.

Speechless by candle_beck (2008, 11.2k, T, case fic) Dean loses his voice and their rapport is only moderately impaired.

Like It Was Yesterday by nomelon (2014, 4.9k, T, fem dean, amnesia) Sam can't remember a time when Dean wasn't there. Dean is always with him. Sam's whole life, there's never been anyone else.

Like a Ghost with Two Voices by Dyed_Red (2022, 46k, E) To cure Dean from the Mark of Cain, Sam has to let Dean, in all his demonic glory, possess him for 28 days. It goes about as well as expected.

Breathe You In (Choke You Down) by orphan_account (2021, 5.9k, E, pwp) Dean really likes the way Sam smells.

lost in yesterday by margaryes (2023, 1k, NR, john pov) John hasn’t seen his youngest son in 18 months.

Unraveling by Linden (2017, 855 words, E) No, he’d said, the first time Sammy had tried to kiss him, sixteen and half-drunk and stupidly beautiful, even though he’d wanted so badly to say yes.

pack up the moon by deathdreamt (2021, 5.9k, T, pre-slash) Sam storms back out from their room, his backpack on and his duffel hanging off his shoulder and isn’t it kind of tragic that his whole life fits in two bags. He looks suddenly much younger than he is, eyes shining. John is back at his guns, whiskey at his elbow, and Dean can hardly believe how rapidly his life is cracking down the centre.

Yesterday, minnesota by applecrumbledore (2022, 30k, E, case fic) Any initial awkwardness filtered away over a hundred miles of highway as Sam thumbed through the missing witch’s diary again. Some people had secret coke habits or secret second wives, and some people had passionate, pitch black, no-kissing sex with a family member every four to six months and never talked about it. You had to find ways to cope.

All Heartless Spectres, Happiness by orphan_account (2021, 5.6k, E) Lisa Braeden receives an email with the subject line, "You Deserve to Know." It contains a single video file and nothing else. (soulless sam)

The Palm Oasis by fictionallemons (2022, 12.3k, E, underage) John strands Dean and Sam at a middle-of-nowhere motel while he investigates possible demon omens in Arizona. The place is nothing to write home about, but at least it has a pool. Dean resolves to think of this as a vacation for him and his studious little brother, but when their money runs out sooner than expected, he considers turning tricks at a nearby truck stop so he can feed Sam.

Other Brothers by homo_pink (2020, 7k, M, underage, outsider pov) A callow boy can go from infancy to someone’s lover in the space of two wildflower summers.

Leader of the Pack by astolat (2007, 14.9k, E) Teaching old dogs new tricks.

Underground Wires by eggnogged (2012, 15.8k, E, fem sam, underage) It’s hard enough being a teenage girl even without all the extra crap: they move around all the time, her family is as far removed from normal as it’s possible to get, and she’s in love with her older brother. Sam has no control on any of it, she’s just trying to stay afloat.

Multitude of Sins by Linden (2015, 4.4k, T, outsider pov) Every now and again, Jim Murphy would look up from his altar and find the Winchester boys at the back of his church.

Like Arrows in the Hands of a Warrior by ADeedWithoutaName (2018, 10.3k, E, underage, dub con-ish, john pov) John Winchester loves his boys, and would take a bullet for either of them. He knows that he's doing it right, the way he's raising them, the things he's teaching them. Not every problem, however, has an easy answer. Like what to do after an incubus case in which their target got his pollen all over both of John's sons.

You Can't Lose What You Never Had by nigeltde (2016, 5.6k, E) You can't spend what you ain't got, and you can't lose what you ain't never had.

Flagstaff by Linden (2014, 7.3k, T, pre-slash, john pov) John tracked Sam down in Flagstaff, four days after he got home to find him gone.

I'll take my chance on a beautiful stranger by fleshflutter (2007, 3.8k, M, outsider pov) If Chase were a better friend, he might try to end the game now, before Brendan loses even more money. But if Brendan is a dick at Stanford, it’s nothing compared to how he is on break.

Cupid's Got A Gun by geckoholic (2012, 13.5k, E, non-con) Fuck-or-die, set in early S4. But they've been fucking for years, so that shouldn't be a problem, right? Wrong. Ever since hell, Dean's in no hurry to get that show on the road again.

Someone Else's Blood by sevenfists (2006, 6.7k, E) The first time, of course, was an accident. (pretend dating)

How Many Floors to Realize by lazy_daze (2009, 26k, E, swesson) AU from the end of It's A Terrible Life, in which Zachariah decides to keep stringing them along a little while longer, because damn if they aren't somewhat entertaining, right?

Worthless cartography by applecrumbledore (2022, 15.6k, E) Dean didn’t know what finally made him go for it. The djinn’s dream was a catalyst, but the call was coming from inside the house, and he’d been letting it ring for a very, very long time. (They get one night together right before Sam is taken to Cold Oak. Dean has to deal with that.)

The Space Between Sense and Memory by orphan_account (2021, 4.8k, T) There are a hundred unwritten rules on all the acceptable ways brothers should touch each other. There are hardly any ways at all to break them. Or; five times they follow the rules and one time they don’t.

Ions in the Ether by nigeltde (2019, 10.9k, E, case fic) When was the last time you trusted happy.

Crossed Wires by rivkat (2015, 10.9k, E) Dean thinks Sam is dead.

Crown and Anchor Me (or let me sail away) by Sena (2010, 23.7k, E, underage) Sam Winchester is fifteen years old, at yet another new high school in yet another state, he doesn't get along with his distant, distracted father, he's figuring out that he likes guys just as much as he likes girls, his clothes never fit and his limbs ache at the joint ever since his growth spurt started, he has to study for the PSAT and, oh yeah, he's a little bit in love with his brother, Dean, who's taken a break from hunting monsters to work at a local garage for minimum wage.

Wear Him Lika a Habit by sevenfists (2008, 2.2k, M) Their first kiss isn't an accident. It's anticipated well in advance, discussed for weeks, argued over, second-guessed.

Amor Prohibido by phoenixflight (2020, 3k, M, underage) They spent the spring of Sam's sophomore year living in a shitty apartment south of San Antonio. Every Friday night the clearest channel played three hour marathons of a Spanish soap called La Casa del Corazón. There was a mutually understood truce about watching it, because the alternatives were infomercials or creepy kids’ cartoons that futzed into static every fifteen seconds.

Open Road by Mollyamory (2010, 2k, T) Sam's old enough to know what's good for him.

It's the Blueprint of Your Life by queenklu (2011, 38.4k, time travel) Sam jerks awake in the middle of the night and everything goes to hell. Well, not literally, though Dean is staring down the barrel of less than a year before his deal comes due. In the midst of dealing (or not dealing) with his impending death, a killer ghost ship, and Bela showing up out of the blue, Dean also has to figure out what’s going on in Sam’s head to make him so twitchy, why he’s suddenly breezing through this case while writing endless notes in a notebook he won’t let Dean see.

North of Wednesday by Mollyamory (2008, 3.5k, G) Sam's behind the wheel before he realizes he doesn't have the keys. Coda to Mystery Spot.

non-wincest fic.

dean/omc. We Drank a Thousand Times by glorious_spoon (2010, 43k, M, warning: death) They meet in a bar fight in North Carolina when Dean is nineteen, broke, and desperate, then again when a hunt brings the Winchesters into town a few years later. Neither one of them ever puts a name to it but every once in a while, through the years, Dean finds his way back.

dean/cas: terror & desire intertwined by rupertgayes (2022, 39k, M) Faced with Castiel suffering a fate worse than death, Dean makes the decision to let Cas use his body as a temporary vessel. All things considered, Dean thinks, it could have gone worse.

gen, sam&dean: what lasts by deadlybride (2021, 17.2k, M) Not long after they move into the bunker, Dean loses a leg. Most of a leg. After the hospital, Sam brings him home, and they figure out how to live with what remains.

gen, dean-centric: To Repair Broken Men by procrastin8or951 (2015, 3.1k, T) Dad and Sam keep fighting. Dean can't fix his family, so he fixes things around the crappy apartment they are staying in.

dean/michael: our hour came round at last by orphan_account (2015, 1.8k, NR, pwp) "I want to be inside you," says Michael, low and velvet and hungry and that really shouldn't turn Dean on but it does.

dean/lucifer, dean/cas: exploratory by sp8ce (2022, 4.9k, E, non-con) One night, Castiel proposes he and Dean have sex. Except it's a little more complicated than that.

dean/cas: for a healthy heart by Askance (2013, 2.4k, T) A strange black box appears in Castiel's bedroom one afternoon.

gen, sam&dean: charmer & gentle by Askance (2015, 3.7k, G, outsider pov) The afternoon girl calls them Big and Tall, the strangers who come in late every now and then, buying this or that. The night girl doesn't think those names fit quite right.

dean/cas, past sam/dean: whose wings, though tattered, shall carry me home by fleshflutter (2009, 2.2k, T) There is a breeze moving across the field. It stirs the long grass in lapping waves like the sea. Castiel runs his fingertips through it and remembers flying.

#asks #fanfic #wincest #whatever it is #anon i have you to thank for getting me back into spn fic <3 i've been rereading some of these over the past few days #i was going to post this for ww yesterday but i fell asleep :( so here you go now sdfksdfh

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lifebloa · 5 months ago

Text

İO-GAMES-2025 - DEVASA+

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ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

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Since some people might want a Mac, I'll offer a Mac equivalent of your laptop guide from the perspective of a Mac/Linux person.

Even the cheapest Macs cost more than Windows laptops, but part of that is Apple not making anything for the low end of the tech spectrum. There is no equivalent Mac to an Intel i3 with 4 gigabytes of RAM. This makes it a lot easier to find the laptop you need.

That said, it is possible to buy the wrong Mac for you, and the wrong Mac for you is the 13-inch MacBook Pro with the Touch Bar. Get literally anything else. If it has an M2 chip in it, it's the most recent model and will serve you well for several years. Any new MacBook Air is a good pick.

(You could wait for new Macs with M3, but I wouldn't bother. If you are reading these guides the M3 isn't going to do anything you need done that a M2 couldn't.)

Macs now have integrated storage and memory, so you should be aware that whatever internal storage and RAM you get, you'll be stuck with. But if you would be willing to get a 256 gig SSD in a Windows laptop, the Mac laptop with 256 gigs of storage will be just as good, and if you'd be willing to get 8 gigs of RAM in a Windows laptop the Mac will perform slightly better with the same amount of memory.

Buy a small external hard drive and hook it up so Time Machine can make daily backups of your laptop. Turn on iCloud Drive so your documents are available anywhere you can use a web browser. And get AppleCare because it will almost certainly be a waste of money but wooooooow will you be glad it's there if you need it.

I get that you are trying to help and I am not trying to be mean to you specifically, but people shouldn't buy apple computers. That's why I didn't provide specs for them. Apple is a company that is absolutely terrible to its customers and its customers deserve better than what apple is willing to offer.

Apple charges $800 to upgrade the onboard storage from a 256GB SSD to a 2TB SSD.

A 2TB SSD costs between $75-100.

I maintain that any company that would charge you more than half the cost of a new device to install a $100 part on day one is a company making the wrong computer for you.

The point of being willing to tolerate a 256GB SSD or 8GB RAM in a Windows laptop is that you're deferring some of the cost to save money at the time of purchase so that you can spend a little bit in three years instead of having to replace the entire computer. Because, you see, many people cannot afford to pay $1000 for a computer and need to buy a computer that costs $650 and will add $200 worth of hardware at a later date.

My minimum specs recommendations for a mac would be to configure one with the max possible RAM and SSD, look at the cost, and choose to go buy three i7 windows laptops with the same storage and RAM for less than the sticker price of the macs.

So let's say you want to get a 14" Macbook pro with the lowest-level processor. That's $2000. Now let's bump that from 16GB RAM and a 512GB SSD to 32GB and 2TB. That gets you to $3000. (The SSD is $200 less than on the lower model, and they'll let you put in an 8TB SSD for $1800 on this model; that's not available on the 13" because apple's product development team is entirely staffed by assholes who think you deserve a shitty computer if you can't afford to pay the cost of two 1991 Jeep Cherokee Laredos for a single laptop).

For $3000 you can get 3 Lenovo Workstation laptops with i7 processors, 32GB RAM, and a 2TB SSD.

And look, for just $200 more I could go up to 48GB RAM and get a 4TB SSD - it costs $600 to upgrade the 14" mac from a 2TB SSD to a 4TB SSD so you could still get three laptops with more ram and the same amount of storage for the cost of one macbook.

I get that some people need to use Final Cut and Logic Pro, but hoo boy they sure are charging you through the nose to use products that have become industry standard. The words "capture" and "monopoly" come to mind even though they don't quite apply here.

"Hostile" does, though, especially since Mac users end up locked into the ecosystem through software and cloud services and become uncertain how to leave it behind if they ever decide that a computer should cost less than a month's rent on a shitty studio apartment in LA.

There's a very good reason I didn't give mac advice and that's because my mac advice is "DON'T."

#sorry i swear i know you're being nice #i am incapable of being nice when talking about apple #i was a total apple fangirl until the unibody #which is the domino that started all the other companies pulling shit like soldered RAM #they said 'fuck you - users shouldn't service their own computers' and I say 'fuck apple - users shouldn't use macs'#and that has been my stance on the matter since 2012 #which was the last time i bought a macbook because i knew i'd never buy a computer that would fight me to change my own battery

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sadhours · 11 months ago

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helloooooo :3

i wanted to request something for kurt kunkle where he has a twitch streamer!gf ? >.<

i just adore cute little kurt 🩷🩷

you’re streaming on twitch, just chatting and you’re loading up a TikTok compilation sent by a chatter when you hear the door of the apartment close, alerting you that your boyfriend kurt is home from his spree shift. he was streaming himself, you had it on your phone on silent, just to make sure he had at least one viewer. you’d shouted out his stream on your own but not many people actually went over to watch him. you’re not really surprised, you’re mostly referred to as a booby streamer as is.

kurt walks into the room, smiling all smitten at you as he pulls up his gaming chair and sits beside you, waving to the webcam.

“how many viewers do you have?” he asks as he leans closer to the screen, his grin widening as he sees the number, “holy cow! five thousand!”

you giggle as you lace your fingers and plant a kiss on his cheek, “everyone say hi to kurt!”

he throws up a peace sign, his eyes struggle to keep up with the chat. not quite as trained as you are to catch the meaningful commentary. he frowns as he reads comments about himself and you reach over to squeeze his thigh. you find him so sweet and endearing, you know he’ll capture his own audience enough.

“we’re watching some TikTok’s and then i might play something, we’ll see,” you tell kurt as you smooth your palm against his thigh. “did you have a good night?”

“interesting night, missed you though,” he mumbles, finally making eye contact with you. you flush as you squeeze his thigh again and lean closer to kiss his cheek.

“missed you, too,” you tell him honestly before pressing play on the video. but you can’t tear your eyes away from kurt. watching his enthusiastic reactions to the TikTok’s. his loud laugh and his innocent eyes. his hair falling just over his eyebrows with every cackle. he offers meaningless commentary while you continue to stare at him. heart swelling in size with the absolute adoration you hold for him.

his eyes dart back to the chat, comments about how you’re looking at him and he meets your eyes, cheeks flushed with flattery.

“you’re so cute, kurt,” you confess, honestly.

“you’re cute!” he argues back, lips thin with embarrassment.

“no, you are,” you giggle and can’t help but lean closer to capture his lips in a kiss. kurt kisses back slowly, hand moving to wrap round your waist from behind.

you bite his lower lip and he parts his lips, allowing your tongue easy entrance. you forget you’re live, kissing him with want and desire and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. tongues clashing and it’s sloppy… suddenly, you’re shocked back to reality. looking to the camera, you giggle and exclaim, “TOS! TOS! I have to go! see you all later!”

quickly you end stream and close out of the browser. kurt looks at you with his shy, tight lipped smile. you climb into his lap, kissing him and giggling into it.

#kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle fluff #kurt kunkle fic

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sweetnsour1 · 7 months ago

Text

10:38

Micro Fluff, bakugou feat. bakusquad’s brain cell

“The fuck you idiots doin’ now?”

Kaminari was sitting in a chair, wrapped in Shinso’s capture scarf, feet in two of Bakugou’s favorite mixing bowls (that were now dead to him. He would immediately be buying new ones that he’d keep locked safely away from these unhygienic morons.), which were full of what he assumed was water. Sero still had a flashlight shining at Kaminari’s face although it had been rendered nearly useless when Bakugou had turned the kitchen light on. Mina used the lighting change to slide her sunglasses back over her eyes, crossing her arms over a blazer that was two sizes too big for her.

“Truth verification.” Her tone was cold and harsh and a bad impersonation of someone Bakugou had no chance of guessing at.

“Bakubro…can I get some help?” Kaminari’s eyes flew back to his reflection in Mina’s shades as she tsked at him.

“Who’s the one askin’ the questions here?”

“You?”

“Was that an inflection?”

“No? I mean…no? Fuck. No.”

“That’s better.” She leaned back in the chair, only staying upright because Kirishima unhesitatingly shifted to meet it before it toppled past the point of no return. She continued as if nothing had happened. “Now I’m going to ask you again…”

Kaminari gulped.

“Did…you…eat…my mother fuckin’ leftovers?”

“No?” Kaminari jumped within the restraints as crackles moved across the surface of the water around his ankles.

Mina hopped up, tossing the glasses on the table before grabbing a blindingly yellow phone with a black lightning bolt, waving it in the air above her head as she skipped out of the kitchen.

“Fantastic. You remember what I promised would happen to your browser history if you ever stole my food again?”

“Idiots,” Bakugou mumbled the word into the fridge as he grabbed his own food, ignoring the groans of regret coming from behind him. He wasn’t going to get involved with their nonsense if he could help it. He had better things to do…like tap his way to Mina’s live feed so he could enjoy this play out.

Masterlist

#bnha #bnha fluff #bnha imagine #bnha drabble #bakusquad #bnha bakusquad #bnha Bakugou #Bakugou #mha #mha fluff

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nshtn · 3 months ago

Note

💖 what does creep ed do if reader tries to escape? is he upset or does he understand? maybe both?

💖 on the flip side, how would he react to them totally reciprocating his feelings?

💖 and similarly, does he crave affection or does it freak him out?

i love this weirdo!!!!!

Writing this from the timeline of the reader being with him long enough to know he loves them.

He gets extremely depressed, but rabidly manic, about keeping you contained/alive. You must understand this - he needs you and cannot be without you. You are the beacon of light-hope, flickering dangerously.

He understands.

To go out is to allow yourself a permanent reprieve from horrors that peck your eyes out. To gutter the flame is a preservation of your innocence to the true nature of Gotham. It must be horrible to be with a beast like him, barely a man, trudging about with stories of death wrapping around his neck. He's sorry, he is.

He'll do better. Tell him how. Please? Edward will beg if he has to. Edward will cry and grovel his way through your capture. Edward will tie you and bind you tightly to this realm with skin-safe rope and a gag if he needs to.

You are irreplaceable, priceless porcelain. Don't worry... he gets it... he'll pay more attention now. That's what you want, right? Attention?

Edward will read and reread every crumb of information he can about you to optimize his care. Infront of you. He will ask the most invasive and personal questions and manipulate the answers out of you in the righteous goal of your taming, your eternal placation of his presence.

He will wash you every day and every night, hold you close more often, and do more with you, but you will be far more heavily restrained for a while and he'll randomly sob while holding you, feeling an incredible guilt collapse on him. You cannot go, though. You cannot ever go.

Outside of your general scope of view, he will become more reckless and violent towards those he believes contribute to Gotham's inequality.

2) See 3 first.

He would delight in it and take full ride of your new found affectations once he mentally accepts them, burying his face in your hands, looking for your touch and praise around every corner. He will show you the horrifying things he does in your name like a cat presenting a hunt, eyes gleaming at you, waiting for your heavenly approval. He will teach you his craft and ramble in your ear as you drape yourself across him in his lap. He'll take your suggestions for dinner and feel your skin against his as often as you'll allow as payment.

You don't need binds anymore. Just a collar... a chip, maybe... and... and a cute little jingly bell... please...?

He'll also let his hands get away from him when holding you exploratively, reaching and grasping around in an effort to delight in the treat of sounds you might make knowing you now approve of this arena of contact. He will be baptized with the slick of you if you don't have boundaries to assert.

You have truly underestimated how fast of a learner Edward is. You have, perhaps, also underestimated just how often his disappearances after spending mere hours bathing in your glittering shine has been to please himself to the thought of your acceptance. It is tantamount to sex to someone as pervertedly deprived as him. You're practically a fetish.

He has your browser history. He's read it. He likes to study you. You're so cute when you squirm. You're adorable when you breathe a little harder when his fingers brush there.

Good luck.

3) Both? Both. Why do you like him? Tell him all about it... he doesn't see what you do. You're probably just saying it because you have to. You must secretly hate him. No one could ever love Edward. No one did for thirty-something-odd years, and it changes now? Impossible. You've simply deluded yourself...

Edward fearfully pulls away. He reverts to being more cold, to keeping his outfit on more often, burying himself in his work in an effort to avoid the pain of opening up... and when you rest, when your eyes flutter shut, he holds you tighter than anything. When he comes home each day, before the deep red has been scrubbed off his boots, he's tangling you into his lap and swimming in your homely scent. Hot, cold - all a fear-fuelled front opposing insurmountable, cascading, recursive desire that leaks around its' cracked-cap edges.

Once he is convinced through defeating the seven deadly sins of his avoidance of risk in possibly losing you by opening up to you, though... see 2. How you convince him is as mysterious as he is, however.

#edward nashton #the riddler #dano riddler #the batman 2022 #danonation #batman 2022 #/dev/writing/#creep ed #nsft #suggestive #tw kidnapping #tw lima #tw stockholm

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mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months ago

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The disenshittified internet starts with loyal "user agents"

I'm in TARTU, ESTONIA! Overcoming the Enshittocene (TOMORROW, May 8, 6PM, Prima Vista Literary Festival keynote, University of Tartu Library, Struwe 1). AI, copyright and creative workers' labor rights (May 10, 8AM: Science Fiction Research Association talk, Institute of Foreign Languages and Cultures building, Lossi 3, lobby). A talk for hackers on seizing the means of computation (May 10, 3PM, University of Tartu Delta Centre, Narva 18, room 1037).

There's one overwhelmingly common mistake that people make about enshittification: assuming that the contagion is the result of the Great Forces of History, or that it is the inevitable end-point of any kind of for-profit online world.

In other words, they class enshittification as an ideological phenomenon, rather than as a material phenomenon. Corporate leaders have always felt the impulse to enshittify their offerings, shifting value from end users, business customers and their own workers to their shareholders. The decades of largely enshittification-free online services were not the product of corporate leaders with better ideas or purer hearts. Those years were the result of constraints on the mediocre sociopaths who would trade our wellbeing and happiness for their own, constraints that forced them to act better than they do today, even if the were not any better:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Corporate leaders' moments of good leadership didn't come from morals, they came from fear. Fear that a competitor would take away a disgruntled customer or worker. Fear that a regulator would punish the company so severely that all gains from cheating would be wiped out. Fear that a rival technology – alternative clients, tracker blockers, third-party mods and plugins – would emerge that permanently severed the company's relationship with their customers. Fears that key workers in their impossible-to-replace workforce would leave for a job somewhere else rather than participate in the enshittification of the services they worked so hard to build:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/22/kargo-kult-kaptialism/#dont-buy-it

When those constraints melted away – thanks to decades of official tolerance for monopolies, which led to regulatory capture and victory over the tech workforce – the same mediocre sociopaths found themselves able to pursue their most enshittificatory impulses without fear.

The effects of this are all around us. In This Is Your Phone On Feminism, the great Maria Farrell describes how audiences at her lectures profess both love for their smartphones and mistrust for them. Farrell says, "We love our phones, but we do not trust them. And love without trust is the definition of an abusive relationship":

https://conversationalist.org/2019/09/13/feminism-explains-our-toxic-relationships-with-our-smartphones/

I (re)discovered this Farrell quote in a paper by Robin Berjon, who recently co-authored a magnificent paper with Farrell entitled "We Need to Rewild the Internet":

https://www.noemamag.com/we-need-to-rewild-the-internet/

The new Berjon paper is narrower in scope, but still packed with material examples of the way the internet goes wrong and how it can be put right. It's called "The Fiduciary Duties of User Agents":

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3827421

In "Fiduciary Duties," Berjon focuses on the technical term "user agent," which is how web browsers are described in formal standards documents. This notion of a "user agent" is a holdover from a more civilized age, when technologists tried to figure out how to build a new digital space where technology served users.

A web browser that's a "user agent" is a comforting thought. An agent's job is to serve you and your interests. When you tell it to fetch a web-page, your agent should figure out how to get that page, make sense of the code that's embedded in, and render the page in a way that represents its best guess of how you'd like the page seen.

For example, the user agent might judge that you'd like it to block ads. More than half of all web users have installed ad-blockers, constituting the largest consumer boycott in human history:

https://doc.searls.com/2023/11/11/how-is-the-worlds-biggest-boycott-doing/

Your user agent might judge that the colors on the page are outside your visual range. Maybe you're colorblind, in which case, the user agent could shift the gamut of the colors away from the colors chosen by the page's creator and into a set that suits you better:

https://dankaminsky.com/dankam/

Or maybe you (like me) have a low-vision disability that makes low-contrast type difficult to impossible to read, and maybe the page's creator is a thoughtless dolt who's chosen light grey-on-white type, or maybe they've fallen prey to the absurd urban legend that not-quite-black type is somehow more legible than actual black type:

https://uxplanet.org/basicdesign-never-use-pure-black-in-typography-36138a3327a6

The user agent is loyal to you. Even when you want something the page's creator didn't consider – even when you want something the page's creator violently objects to – your user agent acts on your behalf and delivers your desires, as best as it can.

Now – as Berjon points out – you might not know exactly what you want. Like, you know that you want the privacy guarantees of TLS (the difference between "http" and "https") but not really understand the internal cryptographic mysteries involved. Your user agent might detect evidence of shenanigans indicating that your session isn't secure, and choose not to show you the web-page you requested.

This is only superficially paradoxical. Yes, you asked your browser for a web-page. Yes, the browser defied your request and declined to show you that page. But you also asked your browser to protect you from security defects, and your browser made a judgment call and decided that security trumped delivery of the page. No paradox needed.

But of course, the person who designed your user agent/browser can't anticipate all the ways this contradiction might arise. Like, maybe you're trying to access your own website, and you know that the security problem the browser has detected is the result of your own forgetful failure to renew your site's cryptographic certificate. At that point, you can tell your browser, "Thanks for having my back, pal, but actually this time it's fine. Stand down and show me that webpage."

That's your user agent serving you, too.

User agents can be well-designed or they can be poorly made. The fact that a user agent is designed to act in accord with your desires doesn't mean that it always will. A software agent, like a human agent, is not infallible.

However – and this is the key – if a user agent thwarts your desire due to a fault, that is fundamentally different from a user agent that thwarts your desires because it is designed to serve the interests of someone else, even when that is detrimental to your own interests.

A "faithless" user agent is utterly different from a "clumsy" user agent, and faithless user agents have become the norm. Indeed, as crude early internet clients progressed in sophistication, they grew increasingly treacherous. Most non-browser tools are designed for treachery.

A smart speaker or voice assistant routes all your requests through its manufacturer's servers and uses this to build a nonconsensual surveillance dossier on you. Smart speakers and voice assistants even secretly record your speech and route it to the manufacturer's subcontractors, whether or not you're explicitly interacting with them:

https://www.sciencealert.com/creepy-new-amazon-patent-would-mean-alexa-records-everything-you-say-from-now-on

By design, apps and in-app browsers seek to thwart your preferences regarding surveillance and tracking. An app will even try to figure out if you're using a VPN to obscure your location from its maker, and snitch you out with its guess about your true location.

Mobile phones assign persistent tracking IDs to their owners and transmit them without permission (to its credit, Apple recently switch to an opt-in system for transmitting these IDs) (but to its detriment, Apple offers no opt-out from its own tracking, and actively lies about the very existence of this tracking):

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

An Android device running Chrome and sitting inert, with no user interaction, transmits location data to Google every five minutes. This is the "resting heartbeat" of surveillance for an Android device. Ask that device to do any work for you and its pulse quickens, until it is emitting a nearly continuous stream of information about your activities to Google:

https://digitalcontentnext.org/blog/2018/08/21/google-data-collection-research/

These faithless user agents both reflect and enable enshittification. The locked-down nature of the hardware and operating systems for Android and Ios devices means that manufacturers – and their business partners – have an arsenal of legal weapons they can use to block anyone who gives you a tool to modify the device's behavior. These weapons are generically referred to as "IP rights" which are, broadly speaking, the right to control the conduct of a company's critics, customers and competitors:

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

A canny tech company can design their products so that any modification that puts the user's interests above its shareholders is illegal, a violation of its copyright, patent, trademark, trade secrets, contracts, terms of service, nondisclosure, noncompete, most favored nation, or anticircumvention rights. Wrap your product in the right mix of IP, and its faithless betrayals acquire the force of law.

This is – in Jay Freeman's memorable phrase – "felony contempt of business model." While more than half of all web users have installed an ad-blocker, thus overriding the manufacturer's defaults to make their browser a more loyal agent, no app users have modified their apps with ad-blockers.

The first step of making such a blocker, reverse-engineering the app, creates criminal liability under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, with a maximum penalty of five years in prison and a $500,000 fine. An app is just a web-page skinned in sufficient IP to make it a felony to add an ad-blocker to it (no wonder every company wants to coerce you into using its app, rather than its website).

If you know that increasing the invasiveness of the ads on your web-page could trigger mass installations of ad-blockers by your users, it becomes irrational and self-defeating to ramp up your ads' invasiveness. The possibility of interoperability acts as a constraint on tech bosses' impulse to enshittify their products.

The shift to platforms dominated by treacherous user agents – apps, mobile ecosystems, walled gardens – weakens or removes that constraint. As your ability to discipline your agent so that it serves you wanes, the temptation to turn your user agent against you grows, and enshittification follows.

This has been tacitly understood by technologists since the web's earliest days and has been reaffirmed even as enshittification increased. Berjon quotes extensively from "The Internet Is For End-Users," AKA Internet Architecture Board RFC 8890:

Defining the user agent role in standards also creates a virtuous cycle; it allows multiple implementations, allowing end users to switch between them with relatively low costs (…). This creates an incentive for implementers to consider the users' needs carefully, which are often reflected into the defining standards. The resulting ecosystem has many remaining problems, but a distinguished user agent role provides an opportunity to improve it.

And the W3C's Technical Architecture Group echoes these sentiments in "Web Platform Design Principles," which articulates a "Priority of Constituencies" that is supposed to be central to the W3C's mission:

User needs come before the needs of web page authors, which come before the needs of user agent implementors, which come before the needs of specification writers, which come before theoretical purity.

https://w3ctag.github.io/design-principles/

But the W3C's commitment to faithful agents is contingent on its own members' commitment to these principles. In 2017, the W3C finalized "EME," a standard for blocking mods that interact with streaming videos. Nominally aimed at preventing copyright infringement, EME also prevents users from choosing to add accessibility add-ons that beyond the ones the streaming service permits. These services may support closed captioning and additional narration of visual elements, but they block tools that adapt video for color-blind users or prevent strobe effects that trigger seizures in users with photosensitive epilepsy.

The fight over EME was the most contentious struggle in the W3C's history, in which the organization's leadership had to decide whether to honor the "priority of constituencies" and make a standard that allowed users to override manufacturers, or whether to facilitate the creation of faithless agents specifically designed to thwart users' desires on behalf of manufacturers:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

This fight was settled in favor of a handful of extremely large and powerful companies, over the objections of a broad collection of smaller firms, nonprofits representing users, academics and other parties agitating for a web built on faithful agents. This coincided with the W3C's operating budget becoming entirely dependent on the very large sums its largest corporate members paid.

W3C membership is on a sliding scale, based on a member's size. Nominally, the W3C is a one-member, one-vote organization, but when a highly concentrated collection of very high-value members flex their muscles, W3C leadership seemingly perceived an existential risk to the organization, and opted to sacrifice the faithfulness of user agents in service to the anti-user priorities of its largest members.

For W3C's largest corporate members, the fight was absolutely worth it. The W3C's EME standard transformed the web, making it impossible to ship a fully featured web-browser without securing permission – and a paid license – from one of the cartel of companies that dominate the internet. In effect, Big Tech used the W3C to secure the right to decide who would compete with them in future, and how:

https://blog.samuelmaddock.com/posts/the-end-of-indie-web-browsers/

Enshittification arises when the everyday mediocre sociopaths who run tech companies are freed from the constraints that act against them. When the web – and its browsers – were a big, contented, diverse, competitive space, it was harder for tech companies to collude to capture standards bodies like the W3C to secure even more dominance. As the web turned into Tom Eastman's "five giant websites filled with screenshots of text from the other four," that kind of collusion became much easier:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

In arguing for faithful agents, Berjon associates himself with the group of scholars, regulators and activists who call for user agents to serve as "information fiduciaries." Mostly, information fiduciaries come up in the context of user privacy, with the idea that entities that hold a user's data would have the obligation to put the user's interests ahead of their own. Think of a lawyer's fiduciary duty in respect of their clients, to give advice that reflects the client's best interests, even when that conflicts with the lawyer's own self-interest. For example, a lawyer who believes that settling a case is the best course of action for a client is required to tell them so, even if keeping the case going would generate more billings for the lawyer and their firm.

For a user agent to be faithful, it must be your fiduciary. It must put your interests ahead of the interests of the entity that made it or operates it. Browsers, email clients, and other internet software that served as a fiduciary would do things like automatically blocking tracking (which most email clients don't do, especially webmail clients made by companies like Google, who also sell advertising and tracking).

Berjon contemplates a legally mandated fiduciary duty, citing Lindsey Barrett's "Confiding in Con Men":

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=3354129

He describes a fiduciary duty as a remedy for the enforcement failures of EU's GDPR, a solidly written, and dismally enforced, privacy law. A legally backstopped duty for agents to be fiduciaries would also help us distinguish good and bad forms of "innovation" – innovation in ways of thwarting a user's will are always bad.

Now, the tech giants insist that they are already fiduciaries, and that when they thwart a user's request, that's more like blocking access to a page where the encryption has been compromised than like HAL9000's "I can't let you do that, Dave." For example, when Louis Barclay created "Unfollow Everything," he (and his enthusiastic users) found that automating the process of unfollowing every account on Facebook made their use of the service significantly better:

https://slate.com/technology/2021/10/facebook-unfollow-everything-cease-desist.html

When Facebook shut the service down with blood-curdling legal threats, they insisted that they were simply protecting users from themselves. Sure, this browser automation tool – which just automatically clicked links on Facebook's own settings pages – seemed to do what the users wanted. But what if the user interface changed? What if so many users added this feature to Facebook without Facebook's permission that they overwhelmed Facebook's (presumably tiny and fragile) servers and crashed the system?

These arguments have lately resurfaced with Ethan Zuckerman and Knight First Amendment Institute's lawsuit to clarify that "Unfollow Everything 2.0" is legal and doesn't violate any of those "felony contempt of business model" laws:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/02/kaiju-v-kaiju/

Sure, Zuckerman seems like a good guy, but what if he makes a mistake and his automation tool does something you don't want? You, the Facebook user, are also a nice guy, but let's face it, you're also a naive dolt and you can't be trusted to make decisions for yourself. Those decisions can only be made by Facebook, whom we can rely upon to exercise its authority wisely.

Other versions of this argument surfaced in the debate over the EU's decision to mandate interoperability for end-to-end encrypted (E2EE) messaging through the Digital Markets Act (DMA), which would let you switch from, say, Whatsapp to Signal and still send messages to your Whatsapp contacts.

There are some good arguments that this could go horribly awry. If it is rushed, or internally sabotaged by the EU's state security services who loathe the privacy that comes from encrypted messaging, it could expose billions of people to serious risks.

But that's not the only argument that DMA opponents made: they also argued that even if interoperable messaging worked perfectly and had no security breaches, it would still be bad for users, because this would make it impossible for tech giants like Meta, Google and Apple to spy on message traffic (if not its content) and identify likely coordinated harassment campaigns. This is literally the identical argument the NSA made in support of its "metadata" mass-surveillance program: "Reading your messages might violate your privacy, but watching your messages doesn't."

This is obvious nonsense, so its proponents need an equally obviously intellectually dishonest way to defend it. When called on the absurdity of "protecting" users by spying on them against their will, they simply shake their heads and say, "You just can't understand the burdens of running a service with hundreds of millions or billions of users, and if I even tried to explain these issues to you, I would divulge secrets that I'm legally and ethically bound to keep. And even if I could tell you, you wouldn't understand, because anyone who doesn't work for a Big Tech company is a naive dolt who can't be trusted to understand how the world works (much like our users)."

Not coincidentally, this is also literally the same argument the NSA makes in support of mass surveillance, and there's a very useful name for it: scalesplaining.

Now, it's totally true that every one of us is capable of lapses in judgment that put us, and the people connected to us, at risk (my own parents gave their genome to the pseudoscience genetic surveillance company 23andme, which means they have my genome, too). A true information fiduciary shouldn't automatically deliver everything the user asks for. When the agent perceives that the user is about to put themselves in harm's way, it should throw up a roadblock and explain the risks to the user.

But the system should also let the user override it.

This is a contentious statement in information security circles. Users can be "socially engineered" (tricked), and even the most sophisticated users are vulnerable to this:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

The only way to be certain a user won't be tricked into taking a course of action is to forbid that course of action under any circumstances. If there is any means by which a user can flip the "are you very sure?" circuit-breaker back on, then the user can be tricked into using that means.

This is absolutely true. As you read these words, all over the world, vulnerable people are being tricked into speaking the very specific set of directives that cause a suspicious bank-teller to authorize a transfer or cash withdrawal that will result in their life's savings being stolen by a scammer:

https://www.thecut.com/article/amazon-scam-call-ftc-arrest-warrants.html

We keep making it harder for bank customers to make large transfers, but so long as it is possible to make such a transfer, the scammers have the means, motive and opportunity to discover how the process works, and they will go on to trick their victims into invoking that process.

Beyond a certain point, making it harder for bank depositors to harm themselves creates a world in which people who aren't being scammed find it nearly impossible to draw out a lot of cash for an emergency and where scam artists know exactly how to manage the trick. After all, non-scammers only rarely experience emergencies and thus have no opportunity to become practiced in navigating all the anti-fraud checks, while the fraudster gets to run through them several times per day, until they know them even better than the bank staff do.

This is broadly true of any system intended to control users at scale – beyond a certain point, additional security measures are trivially surmounted hurdles for dedicated bad actors and as nearly insurmountable hurdles for their victims:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/07/como-is-infosec/

At this point, we've had a couple of decades' worth of experience with technological "walled gardens" in which corporate executives get to override their users' decisions about how the system should work, even when that means reaching into the users' own computer and compelling it to thwart the user's desire. The record is inarguable: while companies often use those walls to lock bad guys out of the system, they also use the walls to lock their users in, so that they'll be easy pickings for the tech company that owns the system:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

This is neatly predicted by enshittification's theory of constraints: when a company can override your choices, it will be irresistibly tempted to do so for its own benefit, and to your detriment.

What's more, the mere possibility that you can override the way the system works acts as a disciplining force on corporate executives, forcing them to reckon with your priorities even when these are counter to their shareholders' interests. If Facebook is genuinely worried that an "Unfollow Everything" script will break its servers, it can solve that by giving users an unfollow everything button of its own design. But so long as Facebook can sue anyone who makes an "Unfollow Everything" tool, they have no reason to give their users such a button, because it would give them more control over their Facebook experience, including the controls needed to use Facebook less.

It's been more than 20 years since Seth Schoen and I got a demo of Microsoft's first "trusted computing" system, with its "remote attestations," which would let remote servers demand and receive accurate information about what kind of computer you were using and what software was running on it.

This could be beneficial to the user – you could send a "remote attestation" to a third party you trusted and ask, "Hey, do you think my computer is infected with malicious software?" Since the trusted computing system produced its report on your computer using a sealed, separate processor that the user couldn't directly interact with, any malicious code you were infected with would not be able to forge this attestation.

But this remote attestation feature could also be used to allow Microsoft to block you from opening a Word document with Libreoffice, Apple Pages, or Google Docs, or it could be used to allow a website to refuse to send you pages if you were running an ad-blocker. In other words, it could transform your information fiduciary into a faithless agent.

Seth proposed an answer to this: "owner override," a hardware switch that would allow you to force your computer to lie on your behalf, when that was beneficial to you, for example, by insisting that you were using Microsoft Word to open a document when you were really using Apple Pages:

https://web.archive.org/web/20021004125515/http://vitanuova.loyalty.org/2002-07-05.html

Seth wasn't naive. He knew that such a system could be exploited by scammers and used to harm users. But Seth calculated – correctly! – that the risks of having a key to let yourself out of the walled garden were less than being stuck in a walled garden where some corporate executive got to decide whether and when you could leave.

Tech executives never stopped questing after a way to turn your user agent from a fiduciary into a traitor. Last year, Google toyed with the idea of adding remote attestation to web browsers, which would let services refuse to interact with you if they thought you were using an ad blocker:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

The reasoning for this was incredible: by adding remote attestation to browsers, they'd be creating "feature parity" with apps – that is, they'd be making it as practical for your browser to betray you as it is for your apps to do so (note that this is the same justification that the W3C gave for creating EME, the treacherous user agent in your browser – "streaming services won't allow you to access movies with your browser unless your browser is as enshittifiable and authoritarian as an app").

Technologists who work for giant tech companies can come up with endless scalesplaining explanations for why their bosses, and not you, should decide how your computer works. They're wrong. Your computer should do what you tell it to do:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/08/your-computer-should-say-what-you-tell-it-say-1

These people can kid themselves that they're only taking away your power and handing it to their boss because they have your best interests at heart. As Upton Sinclair told us, it's impossible to get someone to understand something when their paycheck depends on them not understanding it.

The only way to get a tech boss to consistently treat you well is to ensure that if they stop, you can quit. Anything less is a one-way ticket to enshittification.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

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

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

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kopw · 1 year ago

Text

g1 season is upon us! i'm too lazy to gif every match myself! the world needs gifmakers like you! yes you!

this guide includes: basic gifmaking, actions, how to blur on-screen graphics, coloring tips catered specifically to wrestling footage (mainly aew and njpw), how to add subtitles, what tags to use

what you will need:

photoshop (i currently use cc 2017 for windows which you can grab from this post by birdysources)

kmplayer (for extracting frames)

what you might need depending on what you're looking to gif:

4k video downloader (for downloading videos off youtube)

vkopt (browser extension that lets you download videos off vk)

step 1: getting the footage

if you're directly downloading from a site this step is super easy. just make sure to always go for the highest quality of footage available (for njpw this is nowhere near 1080p, and even aew's 1080p footage is pixelated in places—but don't let this deter you!)

if you plan on giffing something off a ppv, chances are you might need to torrent the event. if you can, look for versions off fite with either web or webrip in the title for the best quality. this applies to weekly television too (fite doesn't have picture-in-picture). always seed your torrents. yes, even that one match from 2012. especially that one

you can also get recent shows off watchprowrestling dot co (previously org) which includes njpw tour shows and indie events as well. check out indy★wrestling★group on vk for smaller promotions and japanese promotions outside of njpw (tjpw, stardom, noah...)

step 2: choosing a clip

wrestling footage quality is not consistent. entrances with too many flashing lights or small particles will have huge quality drops, so unless it's something really special, don't put yourself through that. close-ups are generally your best friend but don't shy away from clips with lots of movement (you do sometimes want to gif the wrestling parts of wrestling too)

step 3: extracting frames

open your video in kmplayer. go to the part that you want to gif (though, i suggest leaving a bit of fodder before and after the actual clip. you can always trim the frames down later and it's better to start off with more). then, press ctrl + g

this should bring up this window:

your settings might be different if it's your first time downloading the app so just copy what you see here

kmplayer automatically captures into its own folder, which you can change if you want, but i just left it as is. i recommend pinning the folder you regularly use to the quick access menu in your file explorer

hit start, start the video, let it capture frames for however long, and then hit stop on both the extractor and the video itself. and now you have a bunch of frames in a folder. cool!

step four: converting frames to layers

open photoshop. this will take ages but open it. go to file -> scripts -> load files into stack...

this will bring up this window:

click browse... and select all the frames you just extracted. depending on the number of frames, this might take you a bit. then hit ok and let your layers load into photoshop. this will take a long time (saying this as someone whose laptop tends to heat up to the temperature of an egg pan at this point in the process)

step five: actions

i use actions (user-built series of recorded commands, meaning you don't have to click everything manually) for everything except coloring. i use a mishmash of like three different actions that i never bothered to organize. these are the two most important ones:

actionpack #1 by giulia (i use the setup and save portions from this one)

squishmoon actions by lildohnut (i use the hd sharpening from here, first layer on 0.3 for close-ups and 0.2 otherwise, and the second layer at the suggested 50%)*

*most sharpening settings you'll find are made for current films and tv shows so you do have to make some adjustment to fit your crunchy wrestling footage

step six: sizing

pick a size for your gif! here is a handy chart:

as for height, it can range anywhere from 300px-540px and beyond. most people go for 350px-450px. 400px is the sweet spot

personal preference: adjust canvas size not image size and fit your footage accordingly. some footage (looking at you aew) can have an odd black bar at the bottom, and manual resizing can help getting rid of it. if you just resize the whole image that will stay there and bother you

additional tip: guidelines

9/10 times you will leave your footage centered. however, there are times when this can look a bit awkward, depending on the framing, in which case i like bringing in a few guidelines. go to view -> new guide layout...

rule of thirds is generally good for drawing the eye to certain places. these settings will divide your canvas into nine squares that help you reposition your main gif layer

optional step: blurring pop-up graphics and banners

so, you have your sharpened, resized gif... but the sharpening made the small text and other unwanted elements on your screen shrivel up like raisins. you can leave it as is, people won't mind, it's a wrestling gif, who cares. but, if you want, you can just blur it out

i'm at least a little bit certain that i'm personally the guy who brought this over from k-pop tumblr (not saying i invented the concept, i just love being a trendsetter) and so i can give you a few reasons as to why people do this. such as:

adding subtitles over pre-existing, burnt subtitles (example: njpw post-match comments off njpwworld and not youtube)

getting rid of elements that might distract people from the focal point of the gif (the hotties... and the moves. mostly the hotties)

it makes your otherwise milquetoast sharpening look a little better in contrast

it's gonna be ugly either way so it's a pick your poison type of situation. if you do want to try the blurring method, you will need a basic knowledge of filters and layer masks

step-by-step blurring process:

duplicate your gif layer

blur the layer on top (i typically go for a 4.0 gaussian blur; for this, go to filter -> blur -> gaussian blur...)

apply a layer mask to the blurred layer and make the layer mask black (this will remove the blur effect, don't be scared). to access the layer mask just click on it. you can press alt before clicking to "enter" the layer mask (though you won't see your gif this way)

go in with a soft round brush (or any brush) with white and draw over the bits you want blurred. this is the tedious part

profit?

here's a comparison:

it's really down to personal preference ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

i convert my base gif layer and the blurred layer into a smart object before moving on with my process because sometimes photoshop likes to do this thing where it only applies the blur to the frame you're on. you can avoid this by combining the layers manually

if you're working with njpw footage and your clip plus coloring combination allows you to, you can also just go over the banner with black and blend it into the background. it's by far the best option but there's so rarely an opportunity to utilize it (i did it in the little header i made... go back and look at how beautiful she is)

step six: coloring

the big one. oh boy. prefacing this with: you can just skip coloring if you want. the sharpening settings i recommended earlier give a nice contrast to the gifs as is, so if it looks fine like that, you don't need any fancy colors. that being said...

my thought process going into coloring is to focus on skin tones and adjust everything around them. i don't tend to use psds, i always just manually color correct based on the actual footage i'm working with (venues differ, lighting differs, hues differ... incredibly hard to plan for all of it in advance). if i plan on making multiple gifsets of the same event/match, i do re-use settings, but sometimes minor adjustments are still needed

to begin coloring, you will need to use adjustment layers. you will pretty much need a basic knowledge of all of them (to the extent of knowing what the sliders and values do)

[1] i always begin with an exposure layer. this will remain above all of your layers (unless you plan on adding subtitles). here are my settings:

again, every layer you add after this will go below your exposure layer

[2] i add a selective color layer to further adjust the blacks. this will vary gif to gif but keep your adjustments small

[3] i add a vibrance layer. wrestling footage has major saturation problems that you can manage early on to make your life easier. take back a tiny bit (usually from -3 to -5) of vibrance before you begin your other color adjustments

[4] this is the big skin tone adjustment step using a curves layer. it does most of the heavy-lifting in my process. here is a video tutorial that explains the technique i use. it works the same with gifs as it does with images. the key differences are:

the image you are color picking off of shouldn't be a limited skin tone chart but rather an image of the wrestler(s) in natural (or as close to natural as you can find) lighting. i just go for renders used on the roster page. fan photography is way too edited to use here

try picking from a darker area of skin (shadows, midtones). it fits better with match lighting

this step will most likely correct color tints, but keep in mind that different promotions/shows/venues have different lighting. here are my personal observations:

aew dynamite and rampage have strong magenta tints

aew collision and roh honor club have strong red tints

njpw has a washed out blue tint

impact has a strong green tint

you can either lean into these (play around with making them really vibrant) or cancel them out using opposites on the color wheel (for example: to get rid of the magenta tint on dynamite, either decrease the magenta slider in your neutrals using selective color or add more green using color balance)

you will almost always have to add more cyan as well (either using color balance or channel mixer; channel mixer can also help you fine-tune skin tones with its blue tab—don't get rid of yellow undertones!)

[5] here is where i start fiddling around with manual adjustments that i seriously can't help you with... just add layers and change colors until you think it feels right. don't be afraid to start over if needed

[6] finishing touches! if you're like me you will have overcolored in the previous step. don't be afraid to add a saturation layer and decrease specifically the saturation of the reds (this will affect the skin tone; if you feel like you're on the right track but it's just too orange-looking, it's a saturation issue)

i also tend to add a black & white layer below the exposure layer up top set to soft light and lowered to 10% opacity. this gives you a bit of additional contrast that pulls the final gif together in my opinion

optional step: adding subtitles and watermarks

always add text layers above your coloring!

[1] subtitles

the font i use for subtitles is arial rounded mt bold, which you can download for free here. the point of subtitles is for them to be readable, so feel free to use any other font as long as it can be read with ease (nothing too thin or too blocky). if you plan on using the font i use, make sure to set it on faux bold and faux italics

font size differs based on the size of your gif, but it should normally be between 17pt and 23pt. i like to keep my tracking (letter-spacing) the same as my font size (so for 21pt subtitles i would have the tracking also at 21). i keep leading (the space between multiple lines of text) 3pt or 4pt

if there are two people speaking, i like setting the second speaker's text color to #ffd300. this is a generic yellow caption color that is still easy to read

after you have your basic text done, right click on your layer to add blending options. adding a stroke and a drop shadow can further help bring your text to the foreground. I keep my stroke (hah) at a simple 1px black. here are my drop shadow settings:

here is a more detailed guide about subtitles by clubgif

as for placement i add a horizontal guide at 95% and put my text on top of the line (while also keeping it centered vertically)

[2] watermarks

i personally don't use watermarks because i just don't care to, but if you want to add one, the same general ideas apply. just lower the opacity of your text layer at the end (if you want... again, a watermark is personalized)

step seven: timing

this is where you'll have to convert your video timeline back to a frame animation!

delete the frames that you don't need and then set a consistent timing (click on your first frame and shift + click on your last one to select all of your frames before adjusting). i like my gifs at 0.04, but depending on the footage you can go for 0.03 (newer bte episodes) or 0.05 (this also works if you don't have enough frames and want your gif a bit slower)

step eight: exporting

go to file -> export -> save for web (legacy)...

here are my export settings:

make sure to keep your gif under 10mb! if your file exceeds 10mb, you can't upload it to tumblr. you either have to cut some more frames or add compression to your gif (something i would never do, i always just cut frames)

additional tip: tagging

you have your gif! but how do you get people to actually look at it?

i always tag wrestlers* (full name, for both searchability and tag filtering purposes), promotions (initialisms like #aew over #all elite wrestling; if it's a more generic promotion name i.e. impact, go for #impact wrestling), tracked edit tags (#aewedit, #njpwedit; this not only helps source blogs find your posts and give them a bigger reach but it lets you browse other people's works). if you want to go the extra mile you can also include which event/video the gifset is from somewhere in your tags (if it's not already in the caption)

*even if you feel like it personally hurts you to tag that one wrestler you can't stand who happens to be in a match with your fave: do try tagging all wrestlers involved for ease of filtering, especially if you don't add image descriptions to your gifsets (tumblr's post content filtering system picks up on those)

general tumblr etiquette but don't cross-tag (i.e. tag a wwe gifset as #aew). no one likes cross-taggers. crossover events are exempt from this rule of course (forbidden door, multiverse united...)

additional tip: accessibility

don't use gradient text in your captions. screen readers can't read them!

if you can, include an image description. no matter how basic. this not only helps people with screen readers but the alt text of your gif is what's going to be displayed in case the gif isn't loading properly. here's a guide on how to caption gifsets by shangs

and you're done! all that's left to do is get silly with it. once you have the basics down you can virtually do anything. you can make those pretty graphics with blending. you can gif every single match of your fave in chronological order. sky's the limit

don't be discouraged if your gifs are not "perfect" from the get-go. this is a hobby just like any other hobby, and with time you'll get better at it. don't compare yourself to others and don't put your efforts down. only you can make the exact gifs you want to see

#aewedit #njpwedit #i spent all day on this... i hope it's at least a little bit helpful 🙏

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manyworldsofdarkness · 10 months ago

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What is CURSEBORNE?

This might be of interest to any World of Darkness or Chronicles of Darkness fans or any fans of Onyx Path Publishing and White Wolf in general. We could be getting a new urban fantasy horror game series soon.

On April 10th, 2023 Onyx Path publishing’s blog brought up a hypothetical of making their own urban fantasy game series. Of course this was in response to their lack of any new WoD or CofD products as they do not own the rights to those IPs and must have approval by Paradox before working on anything. Currently Paradox is more focused on supporting their v5 products with their in house studio, Renegade Games and are no longer contracting other studios to right supplements for them for the foreseeable future. Because of this, the 20th Anniversary World of Darkness games and Chronicles of Darkness lines aren’t getting any new releases and what has already been announced and put into production are the only things to release in the near future. The only way for Onyx Path to make more urban fantasy horror games is to make their own and while they only mentioned this as a possibility, the comments section of this blog post exploded into discussions over this new potential game.

The next few blog posts afterwards continued the discussions asking people what they would like to see in a new potential horror game, such as a Masquerade system or signature characters as the comments sections only further spawned more discussion over this new world. Around this time too, Onyx Path announced their new unified version of their in-house system called Storypath Ultra, which should go without saying but will definitely be the system this potential game will be using. Then about a month later, on May 19th, on the official Onyx Path YouTube channel, this video was released https://youtu.be/fL1VPUzoB_Y?si=cR4ZPeb0wf9Kt6mM

youtube

A short seven second long animation of a murder of crows flying against a snowy tree line and the word “CURSEBORNE” forming as they all fly away. A short, mysterious teaser? Well for the next eight months Onyx Path would release a total of 30 videos of similar nature as of writing this post. Strange and short vignettes of classic horror tropes such as fog, spiders and recordings of monsters. Some would even be rereleased with minor differences and even text. I recommend watching some for yourself, there is a really eerie vibe to some. These capture more “modern” horror vibes when compared to WoD or CofD, some even feel inspired by analog horror or urban legends, the “Train” short particular reminds me of Japanese urban legends. Blog posts more or less stopped mentioning this potential game as time went on and mentions were then replaced with a strange picture of a moth, the same one at the top of this post.

On January 31st, 2024, 7:00 EST this website appeared https://www.curseborne.com/

CURSEBORNE, the title in all of those videos. The website has no text, just images of the same moth from the blog just posted all over a black background. Some will slowly fade in. Clicking on them will lead to a new page featuring one of the many teaser videos playing in your browser. Going back to the homepage, you’ll see a moth that appears to be glowing when compared to the others. Clicking it sends you to a Typeform quiz asking “Who are you?”. Answering it gives you a strange title such as “Raptor”, “Gaki”, “Archivist” etc. with a description of how you act. If I’d have to guess, these titles could be the names to new monsters or factions in CURSEBORNE. I’d like everyone who’s interested to please take this quiz and post your results on this post to see how many titles, or “paths” are found.

In short, it looks like Onyx Path is gearing up to make a new urban fantasy game using their own system. It’s not going to be World of Darkness with different names, but its own unique take on the concept.

#curseborne #World of Darkness #chronicles of darkness #onyx path publishing #white wolf publishing #TTRPG #Youtube

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poeticpains · 1 year ago

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Poe's Giffing Tutorial (From One Beginner to Another)

Hey, everyone! So, I've been thinking about this for a while, and decided to finally make it happen. This post aims to be a giffing tutorial that isn't a bunch of technical jargon that nobody except experienced giffers understands. This is for the person that I was when I first started out: someone who wants to make gifs, for free, without having to learn the entirety of a new program. As such, if you're already familiar with the basics, this probably won't be super helpful to you.

In this, I'll cover the basics of actually capturing a gif, the how-to of color correction (though without getting into the nitty-gritty detail of it), some basic text effects, and some more decorative effects like overlays and ~fancy coloring. I'll also show you the program I use to resize gifs.

I don't have a fun quip to lead us into the next part, so, uh, let's just dive in.

Tools*:

A PC capable of handling heavy processor loads (I use a mid-range gaming laptop; it's a little slow sometimes, but it works)

Whatever you're giffing (obviously...)

ScreenToGif (a free, basic screencapture program)

Photopea (a free, in-browser Photoshop dupe)

RedKetchup (a free file resizer/converter)

*Note: These are not the end-all, be-all of gifmaking. They may not even be the best tools for the job! But they're free, they work well, and they're relatively intuitive.

Step 1: Capture your gif.

I'm going to use ScreenToGif for this. The first thing I do is open the program and click Recorder, which opens the recording interface.

I click and drag (or manually input dimensions in the boxes next to the recording button in the lower right corner) to set my dimensions, and then I press record. The red "Record" button will change to a blue square that says "Stop," and a timer will appear in the upper right corner, showing how many seconds your gif is.

Generally, I'll pause the video 5-10 seconds before my desired start time, to give myself a buffer (you'll be able to delete those frames later), start the recording, and then start the video. You'll probably find a system that works for you once you do it a few times.

Once the scene that I want to capture is done, I'll click the blue "Stop" button, and the overlay will close itself. A few seconds later, depending on how long/complex/large your gif is, the program will pop up with a new window where you can edit. Here's what it looks like:

You can do a lot with ScreenToGif, but we'll be using the dead simple stuff today. Click the "Edit" tab, fourth from the left, and this will show up.

"Delete All Previous" and "Delete All Next" are our friends here. Go to the FIRST frame that you want in your gif, using either your arrow keys or just dragging the slider, and select it. Then hit "Delete All Previous." This will make that frame the first frame of your gif. Then, go to the LAST frame of your gif, and hit "Delete All Next." This makes the last frame of the scene that you want the last frame of the gif. You can also use the "Delete" option to delete frames by selecting them with your cursor if you want a more manual option.

Now you have your raw gif! Go to the "File" tab, the first one on the left, and select "Save As" from the menu. You want to make sure that it's saving as a .gif file, not an .mp4 or .apng --- you can check this up at the top. Don't worry, though, as .gif is the default, so unless you change it, you should be golden. Select whatever folder you want to put it in, name it, and save it.

You could absolutely stop here. It is by no means required to color your gifs or slow them down or any other number of things associated with giffing. But if you want to, here's how I do it.

Step 2: Edit your gif.

Head on over to Photopea. You'll see this:

What we want is the "Open From Computer" option. Click it, and your File Explorer will show up. Navigate to whatever folder you saved your gif in and select it by double clicking or clicking once and hitting "Open."

It'll open in a new workspace that looks like this.

You may be saying, "Gee, Poe, that sure looks a lot like Photoshop!" Yes, it absolutely does. If you're familiar with Photoshop, you will most likely be able to find your way around Photopea just fine, and can probably go from here. But if you're not familiar with Photoshop, here's the basics.

First thing's first: gifs are frequently pretty fuzzy/blurry. Luckily, sharpening them is easy.

Select all your frames (the list on the right with all the numbered layers) by clicking one end, scrolling up/down, holding Shift, and clicking the other end. Then go up to the tabs and do Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen. This will automatically sharpen each frame using a percentage; the default is, I believe, 150%, and this is usually what I use because I am fundamentally lazy.

If you don't select all your frames, only the one that you're currently on (the one highlighted in a lighter color) will get the effect applied to it. This goes for basically anything you do, so it's good to get in the habit of selecting all.

Now that it's sharpened, we can color it. Go up to the tabs again, and go to Layer > New Adjustment Layer > [whatever you want to adjust]. Most commonly in Escape the Night, you'll have to adjust brightness, because there's a lot of dark, moody scenes; Season 3 is also especially yellow/orange tinted, so you'll probably want to color correct it, too, using the Color Balance adjustment layer. This is a total guessing game based on the exact scene you're doing and my method is just selecting random things and adjusting sliders until it looks good (remember: fundamentally lazy). Honestly, I'm not an expert in coloring gifs, so I won't pretend to be — especially since people can and do write entire posts just dedicated to it. For this gif, I'm just lightening it a little.

And if this is all you want to do — no text, no effects — you're done! Go to File > Export As > GIF. It will take a few moments to load, so don't panic when your page freezes. A new window will pop up that allows you to do things like set looping, time, etc. but you can also just "Save" and you're done!

But let's say you want something fun. Maybe you'd like to overlay a quote or make it a cool color. If that's the case, continue on...

Step 3: Make your gif shine.

Three parts in this: text, fun colors, and overlays. You can combine these three to do some awesome things, and they're all very simple to do, once you know what you're doing. Think of them less like steps and more like a mix-and-match deal. You can use one, two, or all three!

So, here we go.

Option 3a: Add some text.

The easiest option of the three, this one works exactly like you think it does. The uppercase T symbol on the sidebar will create a new text layer where you can type something and set a font, size, and color.

I'll spare you the lecture on typography that I could give you — you can find better ones than I could make. Generally, though, you have a decorative/display font for headings and emphasis, and then a different, more generalized font for subheadings and other things. In this, the display font is Heavy Heap, which was used on the Season 3 tarot cards, and the general font is a relatively generic serif font.

(Sidenote: you can load fonts into Photopea! Just go to a font website like Dafont, download the font you want, and then open it as you would any other file by going to File > Open and selecting it from your files. You should get a message that says "Font [Your Font Name Here] Loaded," and then you'll be able to use it in your design. That's how I got Heavy Heap in there.)

You can change size and color with these, which will show up at the top when you select the text tool. Keep in mind that if you're making changes after you type something out, you will need to select (highlight) the text you want to change — it won't do it automatically.

I will admit that Photopea's text editor is not the cleanest, simplest, or nicest to use, especially at first. I came from Canva where it was much faster and easier. The downside, of course, is that Canva is highly limited with what you can do.

There are also ways to warp the text, change the blending, and do outlines, but I'll leave that for another time as to avoid making this any longer than it already is.

Option 3b: Make it a cool color.

You have a couple different ways to do this. Probably the most intuitive is to go to Layer > New Adjustment Layer > Photo Filter. Select the color box, pick the color you want using the picker or a hex code, select your desired density, and click OK. Boom, color over your gif.

It defaults to this vintage-y orange, but you can pick whatever color your heart desires.

However, I usually use a different method using Gradient Maps. This is also pretty easy; Layer > New Adjustment Layer > Gradient Map. If you leave it black and white, by the way, you get a B&W gif (you can also just select the Black and White option in the Adjustment Layer menu). Click on the gradient, select the white square on the right side of the gradient line, and then select the square down at the bottom of the window and change it to whatever color you want.

For this gif, I'm leaving it B&W.

(You can have a lot of fun with gradient maps. Play around with them!)

Option 3c: Overlay another gif on top.

Ooookay, so, this is the most advanced and tedious of effects to do (at least of the ones documented in this post), but it's worth it, I promise. For this, you'll need at least one other gif. I usually use a base gif that's relatively neutrally colored, oftentimes B&W but sometimes just faded or pastel, plus one (or more than one) colored, brighter gif. These are, of course, just guidelines — combine whatever gifs you want. The only real requirement, per se, is that they have the same amount of frames. If they don't, it'll look weird. (But if you do end up with two gifs that have different amounts of frames, you can delete the difference right in Photopea, so I don't stress about it too much.)

You also generally want to add text after this step, so if you're planning on doing this, save the text for last.

First things first: color your gifs the way you want and then save both of them. Then re-open them both in Photopea. Yes, this is annoying. I did say it was tedious.

So now I have both of them in my navbar, labeled as "tutorial base" and "tutorial overlay."

Go to your overlay gif and right-click on the gif folder. This is the top layer with a little arrow and folder icon next to the name of the gif.

Select "Duplicate Into" and then pick your base gif in the popup. In my case, it's named "tutorial base."

Now you'll click over to your base gif, and you'll see that your accent has been put on top of your base. Now you get to have fun with blending!

Right click on the overlay gif's folder again. Then, select Blending Options, which is the first menu item. It'll bring up a popup with all sorts of options for styling your layer.

The default setting is Pass Through, which is what we see here. If you want, you could just change the opacity to get your desired effect.

You could also play around with blending options such as Overlay, Color Burn, Lighten, and Screen. Every gif is different, and every gif will look different with different options, so experiment and see what looks best! You may have to go back and recolor it a few times, so I recommend just keeping the project open in your navbar for easy access.

For this gif, I think I'll go with Darker Color at 67%.

One last step, and then you're done with blending!

Go to Layer > Animation > Merge. This will merge each frame of your animation (the gifs) with each other, meaning that they'll play at the same time. If you forget this step, as I do frequently, you'll go to save your gif and find that it plays as a sequence.

Once you've merged your gifs, you can add texts, more effects, PNG overlays, whatever you want! Congrats! You did it!

Step 4: Resize your gif (if necessary).

Maybe you've made a gif, and it's beautiful, and it's amazing, and you wanna show everyone...but it's five million megabytes and you can't send or post it anywhere. Tumblr's max file size is 10 MB, while Discord's (standard) max file size is..7 MB, I think? Either way, if you try to upload something bigger than that, you'll get an error message and the familiar taste of disappointment.

Never fear, Redketchup is here!

This is Redketchup, and it's super simple.

Go to "GIF Resizer" under Animation Tools. Upload your gif, then scroll until you see the Resize GIF section. Input the percentage you'd like to reduce it by (presets are 25%, 50%, and 75% smaller, but you can set it manually, as well).

This is also the step where you can slow it down if you desire if you didn't do it in Photopea — it's in the next section down. Set the speed, if you'd like, and then go down to the bottom and hit Download.

It'll take you to a preview tab where you can check if your gif is small enough. If it is, hit Download again up in the top left, and that's that! Go share your gif with the world!

Conclusion:

Thank you for reading! I am by no means an expert gifmaker, but I want to spread the love and give other people the option to do it. I wouldn't know any of this stuff without the people who taught me, and I'll put a list of tutorials down at the bottom that I referenced when I was first learning to make gifs.

At any rate, if you use this post to make a gif, feel free tag me or send it to me so I can see! And for those of you who are on the fence about learning or starting to gif...

Do it. I double-dog dare you.

References:

Blending Gifs by @the-mother-of-lions

Photopea Coloring Tutorial by @heroeddiemunson

Merging in Photopea by @bellamyblakru

And, though not a specific reference, I frequently browse @usergif for inspiration (they have tutorials there, as well, but I haven't checked them out yet).

#gifset #giffing #gif tutorial #how to gif #how to make a gif #photopea #escape the night #etn #I wrote this instead of socializing at my family's thanksgiving dinner #because that's just who I am

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