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bootleg-nessie · 10 months

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Things that will happen in the future (based on my own experiences with time travel):

***FAQs at the end***

*All of these observations are copied directly from my notes in roughly the order I took them in

*Don’t ask about the interchanging use of past/present/future tense, you know how that stuff is with time travel

Women just started all growing three boobs instead of two. Scientists baffled

Genetically engineered catboys (no literally)

The great pyramid of Giza has been converted into a Bass Pro Shop

The entire state of Rhode Island was bought by some rich tech CEO who promptly dug a 500 foot wide trench around the entire state so that it could in fact be an island. It was soon converted into the world’s largest parking lot

Pollution has gotten so bad that fresh oxygen is now delivered straight to most homes via a subscription service

Basic necessities such as food, water, and housing are now provided for free by the government, but only for the top 1% of wealth holders

Insulin now costs twice as much as rent. “Get fucked,” say pharma companies

92.6% of new electronic appliances now have smartphone integration and require a monthly subscription to use

Most billionaires have real estate on earth’s moon

As an ongoing film experiment, Taika Waititi successfully convinced a Nebraska man that he’s been raptured and is now in heaven. He actually got Truman Show’d and now millions of viewers tune in every week to watch God (played by John DiMaggio) manipulate Robert into confronting his own views, battle cognitive dissonance, and face the realization that he might not have been as good of a person on Earth as he thought he was

Carrots have gone extinct, as have highland cows

Species of extinct animals and plants now are being posthumously renamed after the billionaires and elites most directly responsible for killing then off

Researchers discovered a sentient colony of fungus off the coast of Chile, it prefers to go by Fleebo and appears to have a incredibly complex intelligence far greater than any other observed organic being

Nobody knows where Ireland went. It literally just disappeared off the face of the earth one day and nobody bothered to question it. The story couldn’t compete in the news cycle with the recent news about a company in China that made the first real life pokemon. An entire civilization of people gone and I’m the only one who seems to remember it or even care

Fleebo and its offspring have annexed Madagascar and are threatening any retaliation with nuclear warfare and “making The Last of Us a reality.” Nobody knows if Fleebo actually has the capabilities to do this, but after the Lovecraft incident we’re all TOO goddam scared to fuck around and find out

Large snails have replaced cats and dogs as the most common household pet. Snail culture has largely taken over the world, especially Japan

The president of the United States is now decided with an oiled up twerking competition. Most people were hesitant at first but this has produced vastly more competent leaders so now everyone just kinda goes along with it

With the cost of living crisis only worsening with time, selling tattoo space on your body to advertisers has become common as people struggle to afford rent and pay their bills

North and South Korea have reunited into “Korea 2.0”

Germany has split up into East and West Germany again

Belgium and France have been annexed by West Germany and renamed “Wester Germany” and “Westest Germany” respectively

The entirety of Florida is now underwater. Most of Kansas is too for some reason that scientists refuse to explain because they’ve “sworn an oath to the eldritch gods” and that “much worse things would happen” if they did

The melting ice caps in Antarctica unveiled a lost civilization of intelligent creatures descended from a species of lungfish, predating human civilization by millions of years. They planned on hibernating for another 10-15 million years to observe the course of evolution on Earth and are very very angry at humans for waking them up prematurely and ruining all of that with global warming

The politically correct term for lungfish people is “Dipnoid” but most people refer to them by a variety of slurs, such as “finwalker” and “kelp muncher” (not that they even eat kelp)

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch has now increased to nearly half the size of what was formerly known as Canada and has been colonized entirely by pirates (the flag is actually pretty cool). The pirate nation has the 17th largest economy in the world and is projected to surpass the United States in GDP

Africa is about 2% smaller. Nobody knows why. Most people point to Fleebo, who denies having any involvement

All human-Dipnoid interaction was promptly banned by most world governments, except for the GPGPRP (Great Pacific Garbage Patch Republic of Pirates), whom the Dipnoids rely upon extensively for trade

Scientists have used DNA from fossils to recreate other species of humans. We now live alongside them like we did for thousands of years before everyone besides Homo sapiens went extinct. Racism is at an all time high

Class C and above robots are now legally recognized by most progressive countries as people

The United States government has been exposed for secretly funneling billions of dollars into the GPGPRP and using it to fund terrorist operations all over the world.

A new major religion revolving around Dave Grohl has skyrocketed in popularity. Grohilsm is now the world’s largest religion, second only to Fleeboism

Scientists discovered a new continent in the Pacific Ocean, and then promptly lost it again. Most people are convinced this was just an elaborate practical joke, but scientists “swear it definitely happened”

For a brief period of about 30 years, everything in George Orwell’s 1984 happened almost exactly as written in the book. Literally 1984

It was revealed that Jeff Epstein didn’t kill himself. He actually faked his death and spent the next few years in a drug-fueled episode of psychosis making sock puppets in a cave in Italy and then molesting said sock puppets until he died from a sock puppet related illness

Bigfoot was discovered off the coast of Georgia doing cocaine with a congregation of alligators. When questioned, he said he normally lives in Montana and was only there on vacation. He is now a celebrity, and has been featured in a number of tv shows and films, two of which he won an Oscar for. Last I checked, he was a washed up actor living in Hollywood with a reanimated Neanderthal woman

The GPGPRP raided most of England’s museums with the object of “doing exactly what they did for the last few centuries” England was understandably furious, but the rest of the world found it rather amusing

England declared war on the GPGPRP, which it promptly lost after hackers brought down the entire country’s military overnight. Much like in the 21st century, England is the world’s laughing stock

The entirety of Luxembourg relocated itself to the moon

Russia attempted to take over most of Eurasia. In retaliation to the full global effort to stop them, they launched nukes at the world’s 600 most populous cities outside of its current territory. Most of the warheads were stopped in time, but a few major metropolitan areas got hit pretty badly, including Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Chengdu, Mexico City, and Istanbul. Japan was understandably super pissed that Hiroshima and Nagasaki got nuked for a second time

In the wake of the nuclear holocaust, Canada assumed control over what was formerly Russia and assimilated many of its citizens and leaders into its own society and government. Under the new rule of formerly Russian leaders, Canada became a puppet state for the second coming of Russia. It annexed much of the United States, Mongolia, China, and a handful of other countries, becoming “the world’s first megacountry.” Crungolaska now controls a majority of the northern hemisphere

As part of a practical joke by Adam Sandler, Tom Hanks was actually marooned on a desert island like in Castaway. He lasted less than a week before he died. When I left this era of the future, Adam Sandler was serving a lifetime sentence in prison for murder

Fringe groups of crows with above-average intelligence have started popping up around the world. So far they have been observed forming small communities, crafting relatively complex tools, using rudimentary speech, performing rituals, and creating music

Aliens visited earth and had a formal meeting with many of our world leaders, but decided to leave us alone for a few thousand more years because humanity is “not yet mature enough to handle the responsibilities of interstellar travel.” They have incentivized us with a the blueprints for an Alcubierre Drive and a means to produce the exotic matter to fuel it once they deem us as being ready

The original colony of settlers on Mars has declared independence, officially becoming the first country not on Earth

We sent Tom Cruise back to space but this time we just left him there

The tether for the space elevator broke. The town known as Vatorville, famous for being the location of the takeoff point of the elevator shuttle on Earth, was completely decimated as tens of thousands of miles of steel cable came crashing back down. There were no survivors

Most people in first and second world countries have mandatory microchip implants that serve as a personal ID

Last Thursdayism has been largely denounced by quantum physicists. Current theories now revolve around “Next Thursdayism,” the belief that the entire universe was created in the future and that we all exist as a memory in the past

Synthetic organ farms for transplants and research have become a massive industry worth billions of dollars. However, there is still a huge black market for organically grown human organs, as they’re much cheaper to acquire and aren’t taxed at the exorbitant rates that lab-grown organs are

China dug a hole all the way to the center of the Earth. Turns out it’s hollow and there are people living inside. Who knew?

A university reconstructed the entire city of Rome as it was in its early days during the Roman Empire. It’s actually pretty historically accurate, except for the fact that there’s a lot less sex because it’s run by a bunch of sweaty history nerds

After Rome 2 resulted in the creation of a cult revolving around the Roman god of the dead that gained traction as a minor religion, Pluto was officially reinstated as a planet by NASA when cultists picketed their headquarters every day for nearly 3 years straight. “Fine, we’ll give these fucking virgins what they want so they’ll finally shut the hell up,” said NASA’s administrator in chief

In a display of the biotechnical prowess of Disney’s Imagineers, all the animatronics in Disney’s Hall of Presidents were replaced with clones of the originals, which went about exactly as well as you’d expect. After reports of the presidents hurling a series of racial slurs and other obscenities at the first black family to enter surfaced, the project was shut down almost immediately after it had opened. Minority admission to Magic Kingdom plummeted to 2.3% of its numbers from the previous year, making it the second whitest place on earth after a taylor swift concert

Plastic now makes up about 3% of every organism on earth by weight

Public officials are now required by law to take shrooms before running for office

Trees are considered a rare and highly sought after commodity, and are usually only owned by public institutions and the rich (the vast majority of oxygen farms use algae to produce oxygen)

FAQs:

FAQ: What time period(s) did you go to?

A: I have no fucking clue. The world stopped using the Gregorian calendar in 2063 after a gamma ray burst hit the sun. The GRB led to stellar ablation, which changed the length of a year on Earth. The sun would continue to lose mass at an accelerated rate for several more years, with the length of the year changing slightly from year to year. The world adopted a variety of different calendars which kept being updated frequently and were often super confusing and contradictory. I traveled to about a dozen different points in time, which based on my best estimates spanned within a few millennia of the current date.

FAQ: How did you obtain a time machine?

A: I think it was the 17th or 18th of June, 2055? That night, a large sci-fi looking box thingy roughly the size of a VW Bus appeared a few hundred yards away in the open field in front of my house. I tried to take a picture of the box, but for some reason the closer I got, the more the image on my camera started to become fuzzy, and by the time I got close enough to take a decent picture, the camera had stopped working altogether. I pulled open a door to reveal a corpse inside that was charred beyond recognition, who appeared to have suffocated and/or burned to death during a fire that damaged most of the interior. I also noticed a number of strange tumors and growths on the body. I pressed a random button on the remains of what I believed to be a control panel, expecting nothing to happen, but the door closed automatically and I suddenly lost consciousness. When I came to, I exited the box, expecting to still be in the field in front of my house, but instead found myself a ways outside of a small snowy village that based on my best estimates, was somewhere in northern Asia around 2-3 thousand years ago. The villagers started coming after me with spears, so I quickly ran back to the box and pressed another button, hoping it would return me to from whence I came. This time, the people I found (who were thankfully much nicer and spoke a dialect of English that I could mostly understand) told me that it was the year 506 of the PGRB-Δ4 calendar (the calendar that the United Territories was using at the time). I repeated this maybe a dozen more times trying to get home until I landed in 2023, which as far as I could tell, was the closest I had gotten back to my original time so far. It was at this point that I decided to stay and seek medical attention, as I was rather concerned about some nasty new growths on my arms and legs similar to that which I had seen on the corpse.

FAQ: Where is the time machine now?

A: No idea. It disappeared a few days after I landed in 2023. My best guess is that some poor sap found it and ended up sometime else.

(I never ask for likes/reblogs but I literally spent fucking WEEKS on this one so if you liked it pls show me some love <3)

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obaewankenobis · 10 months

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born to die (pt 2) ; finnick odair

pairing: finnick odair/reader (afab but pronouns not/rarely used, no use of y/n)

part one: found here

word count: 5.3k

summary: you and finnick both struggle with your feelings as the capitol's expectations aims to tear you apart.

warnings: typical hunger games warnings (violence, death, sex trafficking, etc). oral (f receiving), mentions of throwing up, sliiiight alcohol abuse, semi-public sex but not really, angst, but fluffy towards the end. the smut is very minimal in this one sorry guys </3 18+ only, minors dni!

How hard could it be, going back to hating someone? Apparently, it wasn’t as easy as flipping a switch like you’d originally thought. And apparently, it was even harder when you realized you never truly hated the person in the first place.

But that wouldn’t stop you from trying. No, you seemed to take every flutter of your heart and every catch of your breath as a challenge, furious your body was betraying you whenever you thought of him for too long.

It had been a week since you’d even seen a glimpse of Finnick, a week of remembering how gentle his lips felt against your neck, how perfectly they molded with your own. A week of being tortured by dreams of the firm grasp on your hips, of his fingers digging into your thighs and traveling up at a tantalizing pace. You’d dream of his mouth on the shell of your ear, his breath hot and warming your insides as your name escaped his lips in a beautiful melody reserved only for you.

And each morning you woke with a frustrated groan, your fingers splaying across the empty sheets beside you, reaching for him and feeling nothing. And each morning you would ignore the hurt rising in your throat upon the discovery of his absence, and redirect it into burning anger, until now, a week later, you were blazing with the fury of a thousand suns.

It was fine, I didn’t have time to sit in bed and worry about the likes of Finnick Odair. You tried (in vain) to convince yourself of this, having heard from somewhere you couldn’t remember that if you repeated something enough times with enough force, your brain would soon accept it as reality. Like reverse psychology, or whatever��

So far, that strategy wasn’t working, and you were growing desperate for release. You were so eager to get him off your mind you tried to act like it wasn’t the worst thing in the world when your services were requested by the son of some Capitol elite, because then you’d have someone else to channel your loathing into instead of Finnick, who didn’t quite deserve the anger he was currently being bombarded with in your mind.

It was some stupid Capitol party to celebrate 50 years of President Snow’s leadership. God, if you could choose something to celebrate, that would be below the very last thing on your list.

Immediately your skin began to crawl as you realized you were still the talk of the Capitol, having won your games so recently, and that you’d be put in another outfit so revealing, so you could be gawked at like a museum display.

Fuck this. If you had to be paraded around as a sex symbol for the Capitol, there was no way in hell you were doing it sober this time, escort or not.

You allowed your stylists to do what they pleased, yanking your hair and slicking it back so tightly you thought you’d be bald upon taking it out, sipping, or rather chugging, a bottle of expensive champagne you’d ordered just before they’d arrived.

Your face painted a pretty picture, the picture the Capitol wanted, coated with thick brushes of makeup to erase the tear stains permanently etched into your cheeks, lips brushed with a deep red color to cover up the dryness cracking them. Made completely out of pearls with heavier ropes placed strategically around your chest and hips, this dress was just as risque, if not more, than the one you’d worn last time.

While of course you hated how little the dress covered because it was gross and blatantly sexual, you hated even more how certain parts of your body were on display. The parts that made it obvious you had been reaping the benefits of the Capitol: your glossy hair, your radiant skin, the healthy amount of muscle and fat; they were all reminders that you were being pampered up here, enjoying Capitol delicacies, while the majority of Panem was on the brink of starvation.

Despite being from one of the wealthier Districts, you had noticed how the tributes from the other Districts were. How sallow their skin was, how their eyes appeared sunken into their skulls, how their bones were so brittle it took little effort to snap—

You downed another glass of champagne.

You hated it, you felt disgusting, but there was nothing you could say as a member of your prep team dotted tiny pearls in your hair to complete the outfit. It was all a facade, all something to squash your true feelings down and present you as somewhat of a robot, incapable of real human emotion.

That was the point, you realized. They didn’t view you as a person, they viewed you as a toy to be played with. At least the champagne seemed to be doing its job, you thought with a happy sigh as a numbing buzz overtook you, lowering your inhibitions. If only you could feel like this all the time, so relaxed and unguarded.

Your inability to sleep had only gotten worse in Finnick’s absence; he’d been there so soon after it’d all gone downhill that your mind had immediately gotten used to the feeling of having him beside you, comforting you. You’d take back every kiss, every bite, every moan you’d shared to have him back, dancing his fingers along your skin in soothing patterns.

“It’s time to go,” a girl from the prep team said quietly, yanking you out of your thoughts— what was her name? You were too tipsy to try and remember, so all you did was nod and follow her out the door. Some part of you, the emotional part that wouldn’t listen to the rest, wondered briefly if Finnick would be there as well.

The party was so much more fun this time. You were blushing at the flirtations thrown your way, giggling at every poorly made joke, and even trying to impersonate the distinct Capitol accent with your “date”. He was handsome, sure, but in a weird, i’m-from-the-capitol-so-i-have-pompoms-on-my-suit-and-wear-gold-lipstick kind of way, and you were certain had you stopped several glasses ago, you wouldn’t be finding his jokes half as funny.

But the alternative was remembering at the end of the night, you’d be forced to go home and pretend it was Finnick’s hands roaming your body or pressing his lips against your own. You stumbled your way over to the table serving various kinds of alcohol, from fruity cocktails to straight liquor, and poured a generous amount into your already half-full cup. You were so focused on not spilling anything that you didn’t notice someone coming up behind you until two strong hands wrapped around your wrists, gently but firmly prying the bottle from your hand and setting your glass down on the table.

“Easy there, sweetheart. Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink tonight? I mean, I could see you stumbling around from across the room.”

Oh, fuck this, you would know that voice anywhere, though it had morphed into the seductive purr he put on whenever he was playing the role of the Capitol Darling. You whirled around and out of the cage of his arms, the backs of your thighs hitting the table behind you and letting out a yelp as your heels disagreed with the swiftness of your movements; You would’ve been on the ground had Finnick not steadied you with a hand curled around your waist. But you wouldn’t thank him for that. You wouldn’t admit how his innocent touch shot sparks through your body, and you certainly wouldn’t admit how gorgeous he looked.

Because fuck him for being dressed so much more modestly than you, and fuck him for looking so good in what his stylists had put him in — loose trousers and a simple white knit top with a deep vee stopping above his navel. The style of the shirt was something you would see around District 4, and his hair looked as if he’d just come from the ocean, with a salt kissed ruffle that messed with his waves and gave him a perfect disheveled look that would make you swoon, if you still cared about what he looked like.

Which you didn’t, because he’d made it perfectly clear the moment he’d left you last week that he didn’t care either.

He looked at you expectantly, raising an eyebrow and you realized you’d been caught staring, which only served to make you more furious. “You don’t need to babysit me,” you shrugged his hand off, “Just… leave me alone, Finnick.”

“I’m just looking out for you,” the amusement in his tone at your anger only made your blood boil.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you began, trying and failing to keep your voice from rising into a shrill whine, “I don’t want to see you! I want you to leave me alone and—”

“Can we talk?” He blurted out, his voice so timid it stopped you in your tracks. “You sound upset, and you’ve avoided me all week, after we...”

“Avoided you?” Your laugh was dry and humorless. “Are you serious? You left me, Finnick! I was doing you a favor!”

“By not talking to me? We finally— I finally think that maybe, maybe I wasn’t so crazy, that maybe you liked m—” His eyes widened and he realized he’d said too much, too loud, because people were starting to get irritated by the two of you blocking the liquor table. “Can you just come with me?” You stared back at him blankly, which only caused him to break out in a genuine grin. “Come on, don’t make me beg. Although if last time was any indication, I’m sure you’d like to see me on my—”

With a flustered shriek to cut him off, you grabbed his hand and tugged him into the most private space you could find, a small alcove in one of the many winding hallways of the mansion.

“Do you regret it?” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth once he’s sure the two of you are alone. All playfulness has drained from his features, like the facade he’d been putting up can disappear now that he’s away from the prying eyes of the Capitol. You stared at him in disbelief, like what he’s said is crazy. He doesn’t give you the chance to respond before he continues. “Because I don’t. You needed me, and I…” He swallowed harshly, like what he was about to say next didn’t sit right in his throat, “I don’t want you to think that what we did changes anything.”

Despite knowing he meant well, those were precisely the words you didn’t want to hear. How could he not see how confusing it was? To say he didn’t regret it, but to also say it didn’t change anything, all in one sentence.

“No, of course I don’t, that’s not…” I’ve dreamed of you far too often since I was fourteen, seemed like an inappropriate response, but you found yourself something entirely different. “Then why did you leave?”

You wanted to cringe at how small and pathetic you sounded asking such a question. Your gaze dropped to the floor, but it was too late, you couldn’t reach in the air and snatch the words back.

“You said you didn’t want it to mean anything. I was trying to make it easier for you.” He said that at the same time strong fingers grasped your chin, tender but with purpose, forcing you to meet his gaze. Just by looking at him straight on, you were frightened by the vulnerability you felt, like you’d been stripped raw of any protection you’d wrapped yourself in; no secrets could be kept now. And it didn’t help that you were so close you could count the individual eyelashes framing his eyes; the proximity made you quite flustered and incapable of forming coherent thoughts.

You were yet again consumed by neverending thoughts of Finnick Odair, thoughts that had been berating you all week in the back of your mind now coming to the forefront in full force.

How could you respond to that? It was you who’d asked for nothing more than a distraction, you who had made it clear sleeping together didn’t have to mean anything. But it wasn’t because you didn’t like him, oh no it was quite the opposite: you probably liked him a little too much to do anything casual with him. If you were to have Finnick more than once, you wanted all of him, not whatever bits and pieces he dangled in front of you. Because you didn’t know much, but you knew a few things.

One: You wanted to kiss him. Badly.

Two: If you acted on that impulse, there was the chance you’d never get to tell him how you truly felt, and you’d be stuck in a painful purgatory of having parts of him but not all.

Finnick seemed to be warring his own internal battle as his eyes shot from your lips back up, and back down, and back up, until—

“Can we talk later?” You asked so suddenly, much to your own surprise as well as his. “I just… there’s not a lot of time here, and it’s not very private, and there are so many things I’d rather be doing…”

His gaze darkened at that, taking another step forward until your chest was flush against his, your back hitting the stone wall behind you. He dipped his head down to reply in a low voice that sent shivers up and down your spine, “Yeah? Care to tell me what you think is a better use of our time, sweetheart?”

“I’d rather show you.” This is a bad idea, the rational part of you screamed, and it was probably right. It was probably an awful, terrible, horrible, idea, but the moment his lips met yours, nothing else seemed to matter.

The way he kissed you needed to be studied, you thought. The way his nose nudged against yours and he quickly angled his head slightly more to the right until he fit just right against your profile. The way his hands immediately went to your waist, fingers finding their way under the many strings of pearls that dressed you, all so he could touch as much of you as possible. You were suddenly jealous of anyone who’d had the pleasure of being in your position before you, because how on Earth could the way you feel be shared by anyone?

That thought only spurred on a newfound desire to make you different than everyone else, to make him feel the way you did, that no one else could even come close to the way he felt when he was with you.

His tongue glided along the seam of your lips, searching for permission as the two of you continued to trade kiss after bruising kiss. Each one shoved you further down a rabbit hole until you were certain there was no coming back from this, even if it went no further than kissing.

You broke away for a moment, not having the courage to look up, and moved your lips down to his neck, noticing with fleeting disappointment how the marks you’d made last week had faded from his skin.

His hands, which had remained innocently on your waist, were beginning to creep down to the (very short) hemline of your dress, fingers teasing their way past the heavy ropes of pearls that fell against your upper thigh. Your breath began to quicken at the reminder of what his fingers had done to you last time they were so close, and you hoped he wouldn’t notice the subtle clench of your thighs as his fingers continued their exploration.

Very unceremoniously he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of you, and you immediately tried — in vain — to tug him back up to a standing position, your eyes darting wildly from one end of the long corridor to the other.

“Finnick, we can’t, there are people…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked suddenly. His pupils had been completely blown out, staring at you with such hunger you nodded your head immediately; whether you actually did or it was just your lust-addled brain you weren’t sure. “Then we’ll be fine. Just stay quiet for me, okay?”

“Okay—” you broke your promise as soon as his fingers tugged at the thin material of your panties, letting out a gasp when his mouth came in contact with what had been left uncovered.

The sensation of his hot breath on you left as quickly as it came, when Finnick quickly leaned back to fix you with a warning glance. “Shhh,” he reminded you before he returned to your core, throwing a leg over his shoulder and forcing you to brace yourself against the wall behind you to keep you upright. One hand shot to dig itself in the depths of his hair as he continued his ministrations with his tongue, the other clamping around your mouth and muffling the soft moans emitted from your lips.

Finnick seemed to be enjoying your struggle of keeping silent, each sound that passed too quietly from your lips only encouraging him to plunge his tongue further at a faster pace, his nose nudging your clit and only increasing your pleasure.

It felt good because he knew what he was doing, sure, but it felt even better knowing it was his tongue licking you, his hands wandering around your legs, his body pressing you against the wall.

It made all the horrible fantasies that had haunted you this past week seem like nothing in comparison to the real thing, which was all you truly wanted. You just wanted him. Everywhere, all the time.

And not just in the position you two were in now, as euphoric as his tongue felt, flicking and sucking at your core. You wanted the other things too. You wanted to wake up in his arms, watching the sunlight spill in from the window and illuminate his tan skin and bronzy hair. You wanted to fall asleep curled into his side, knowing that while you were asleep, he would protect you.

Still worried someone would walk in on the two of you at any given moment, you tried not to allow yourself to look down at Finnick too much (or perhaps you were scared if you acknowledged it was Finnick pleasuring you, putting a face to all the emotions he was bringing to you, you would truly be a goner).

“You were driving me fucking crazy in this dress,” Your back automatically arched in search of his mouth as he removed it to speak, tugging at the strands of pearls doing a poor job of covering the curves of your body. “Fucking insane.”

“Finnick,” you breathed, almost crying out when he resumed his indulgence of you and added pressure to your clit with his thumb, the pressure coiled inside you rising to new heights. “You’re so good, so good—”

And just when everything was building, just when you were about to cry out to the sky, not caring if anyone saw, he stopped and quickly stood up.

“Hey—” you quickly realized this wasn’t a teasing pause, evident by the sound of your name echoing against the walls of the hallway.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his shirt, he fixed your underwear and shoved your dress back down all in one swift motion, just as your “date” turned the corner and walked — or rather stumbled — towards you. Oh, fuck.

With a wince, you took several steps away from Finnick, just in time for your lovely Capitol date to finally make his way to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to him.

He was drunk, drunker than you had ever been (you were sure of that by how strongly he reeked of liquor), barely being able to stand even with leaning his full weight on you. “There you are, beautiful,” he slurred, his hand creeping from your shoulder downward. “Let’s get out of here.”

At least he (you didn’t remember his name) was so out of it he didn’t even seem to notice Finnick breathing heavily beside you, or the bulge in his pants that was poorly hidden by the dark color.

How could you go from feeling so euphoric to so repulsed, all in less than a minute? With a regretful glance in Finnick’s direction, you noticed how he stared right through you as if you weren’t even there. His jaw was clenched and his posture was rigid, but those were things only people who knew what he looked like relaxed would pick up on. To anyone passing by he looked unbothered, indifferent, as you were led away from him.

It was in the brief moment when his eye finally caught your own that the two of you hadn’t gotten to talking, and you had no idea where you stood with him. Would it be appropriate to just knock on his door the next day, or schedule a meeting through his Avox? Or was your interruption the universe’s way of telling you to stop pursuing it and leave him alone?

All those thoughts eddied from your mind the moment you stepped in the car that would escort you and your Capitol date home, when he decided then would be the best time to throw up, narrowly avoiding your pretty pearl shoes. With a little yelp of disgust, you jumped back, avoiding being caught as he continued to empty copious amounts of liquor that once resided in his stomach.

Fuck my life, you thought with a groan as the smell invaded your senses, thankful that most of it had been done outside the car. With a wary glance his way you saw him leaning back against the window, clearly trying to recover from how much he’d drank throughout the night.

It wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be, only because he passed out before the two of you went any further than a sloppy kiss that made your stomach curl.

However wrong it seemed, you tried to imagine it was Finnick instead, but everything just felt off. This man’s hands were cold and rough against your skin, nothing like the steady, soft hands you were trying to imagine; his lips were wet and uncoordinated, unlike the delicate whispers of affection Finnick would bestow upon you in the form of warm, confident press of his lips against yours.

Yet again you felt slimy and used and disgusted, unwilling to even try to process what had just happened. So you did what any normal person would do in this situation: drink. While some part of your brain knew this was an unhealthy coping mechanism, the part of you that wanted to forget the night, forget your circumstances, won over, and soon you were tipsy enough and making your way up to the rooftop.

You let the ice of the wind hit you square in the face, hoping that if you withstood it enough, it would jar you out of the nightmare you were in. Time seemed to stretch and you were certain you’d been there all night, but in reality, judging by the lack of alcohol induced dizziness, it was probably an hour.

“Knew I’d find you here.” You knew who it was immediately, goosebumps rising on the back of your neck at the sound of his voice. “I thought I told you there was a forcefield already.”

The eeriest sense of deja vu overtook you, enough to rip you from your thoughts and turn around, trying to balance yourself by staring at the unmoving figure in front of you.

“Hello to you too, Finnick,” you greeted in a flat tone, the mere sight of him draining whatever alcohol in your system remained.

Your chest began to feel tight as you took in his appearance, your face flushing when he looked you up and down. He’d changed from his party attire into pajamas, and there was a tiredness to his eyes that made you blurt out, why are you still awake, at the same time he blurted out, have you been drinking?

“A little,” you admitted, and waited for him to answer yours.

There was a moment when the only sound was the faint blaring of car horns in the distance and the soft rumble of tires against pavement, city sounds that faded into nothing as the wind whistled in your ears. His gaze immediately shot to the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking at invisible pebbles by his feet. You suddenly felt embarrassed, because he’d probably had a much worse night than you had, and of course he couldn’t sleep because of that—

“I was waiting for you.” Oh. That was not what you were expecting, and clearly, it showed in your face because he rushed to continue, thinking he’d said something wrong, “I just… we never got to finishing our conversation earlier, and didn’t know if you were safe, and I know how hard it can be to fall asleep after…”

You walked over to him until you were inches apart, tilting your head ever so slightly in an attempt to catch his eye, which had returned to the floor.

“Can you look at me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your hand reached out, wanting to press against the planes of his chest and feel him, but refraining. Your hands simply hovered in the air, a mark of uncertainty, until Finnick made his decision. In a quick motion he’d reached out, wrapping his hand around yours and tugging it until you made contact with his chest, relishing in the security it brought you. The way you could feel his heartbeat, a steady beat of absolute certainty, that reminded you he was here, and he was real. His hand remained over yours, too, like he too sought comfort in the physicality of your hand.

“Last week…” he begins, and all you want to do is cut him off with a kiss, tell him you don’t care if he left, that he’s here now and that’s all that matters. But you don’t; you let him continue, and pretty quickly you’re grateful for that decision. “I lied. After you said it didn’t mean anything, I said okay,” he paused, like what he was about to say next was lodged in his throat, “But it’s not okay, not really. I… I want it to mean something.”

“Finnick, you know I—” You began softly, so softly, but he pressed on.

“No, please just… let me say this, okay?” He tightened his grip on your hand like he was worried you’d heard enough and would leave him. All you could do was nod silently, urging him to continue. “You mean more to me than I let on— so much more. I can’t pretend like this past week hasn’t killed me. I just… I needed you to know that—”

“Finnick,” you tried, but he couldn’t stop talking, like he wasn’t getting his point across.

“And I know it’s complicated—”

“Finnick,” you said again, a little louder and more earnest, but still, he continued.

“—and I don’t want you to think you’re obligated to feel the same—”

His lips, warm and soft and right, met yours as you cut him off with a kiss. It took less than a fraction of a second before he reciprocated, surging forward and wrapping his arms around your waist to tug you closer. Your hands found their place interlocked behind his neck, the soft hairs at the nape of his neck reminding you that it was him.

You kissed him with such fervor you thought your lips would fall right off, desperately trying to convey every unspoken word in your mind; Every point of tension between the two of you melted completely until you pulled back, breathless.

“I’ve been a liar, too,” was the first thing that came out of your mouth, so quietly he was sure he’d misheard you. “It meant so much to me, Finnick, I… I just didn’t know what to do with all of it, I guess.”

His lips were swollen and red, and his eyes were glassy as he gazed down at you; every time his chest heaved it brushed yours. “I want you,” he breathed out, and while at first you thought it might be something purely carnal, he quickly corrected himself, “I always… I’ve always… tried to ignore it, but now I can’t…” he trailed off, struggling to find the right words, the right way to express himself without fucking up. “I can’t ignore it. I want to fix this, fix us, I want…”

You’d rarely seen him like this; struggling to say the right thing. Normally the words flowed through the air smoothly like a summer breeze, his point sliding across so easily, like honey. So to see him stumbling over his words, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, you tried to urge him to continue.

“I think about you,” he confessed abruptly. “All the time, it drives me crazy. I want to be with you, all the time.”

And you wanted that, too. You wanted to do stupid, mundane tasks with him. You wanted to do things like dry the dishes as he washed them, like argue over whose turn it was to take out the trash, like wake up and brush your teeth side by side, grinning at each other in the mirror.

So you said it as simply as you could. “Me too.”

The grin you broke out into was so wide your cheeks would soon start hurting, but you didn’t care. The elation in your chest was blooming, expanding until the warmth of it reached all the way to your fingertips, your toes, the top of your head. Every part of you felt giddy, like a schoolgirl who’d just had her first kiss on the playground.

This time, it was he who kissed you, capturing your lips with his own with such intensity you gasped. Kissing him now felt like something entirely different, like your entire world had been gray, and his lips on yours opened you up to a vibrant array of colors that nearly blinded you.

Your hands found their way back to behind his neck, his hands finding purchase on your hips and drawing you closer, wanting to feel every inch after being deprived of all of you for so long. It wasn’t just your body you were giving him this time, but your heart as well.

Before you knew it, he’d hoisted you up and you immediately wrapped your legs around his torso, craving the surface of his body just as he was with you. The kisses continued, though never going any further as he walked back to his room — thankfully he was on the top floor, making the journey quite quick. Your back hit the mattress as he continued his kisses, moving his way down and giving special attention to the spots he knew you loved on your neck, your shoulder, behind your ear.

“I don’t— I don’t want to do anything tonight,” he finally pulled back. “I just want to be with you.”

You nodded almost instantly, happy to just be with him, the kissing slowing down as the two of you grew more tired. He must’ve thought you were asleep when he called your name softly and received no response. You were in a haze of in between, too tired to respond but aware enough to know what he was doing as his fingers ghosted over your back and began to draw again.

Finally, before sleep came crashing down on him, his fingers said what his mouth could not: I love you.

And when you blinked your eyes open the next morning you were face to face with a sleeping Finnick — he’d stayed this time.

Your lips brushed his cheek ever so lightly as you whispered it back.

a/n: thank you guys so much for waiting!! i wrote this instead of studying for my finals cause i'm silly like that. anyways i reallyyyy struggled w this one and wasn't sure where i wanted this story to go. i thought it was an okay conclusion but lmk if you guys want more! feel free to send in any requests you might have, i write for mostttt of the hunger games characters (especially finnick <3)!

tag: @justtrying2getby , @tqmqkii , @s-j320 , @imaegonstargaryenswife0 , @s-trawberryv-eins , @ruxjules

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair #finnick odair smut #finnick odair angst #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games smut #thg series #finnick odair fluff

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aperfecttimeforscreaming · 2 months

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THE UN ASKED FOR RETURN OF THIS FUCKING THING

His back story has changed a bit. Manipulated in his youth to believe he could be an Elite, reality reared its head and he was encoded as a customer service drone. Disenchanted with his life, giving up, he coped with any sort of drug he could get his claws on, just to make the drudgery of it bearable. In his most recent form he is the favored millitary fetish concubine, to my tallest oc, in an au i have been enjoying with @irkendogma

Freak is involved. <- freak mention

#invader zim #irken oc #iz oc #post for an audience of maybe 3 people total #z1m #mizo

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rubberizer92 · 3 months

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John Doe woke up to the monotonous beep of his alarm clock, the digital display reading 05:00. He groaned and rolled over, his eyes adjusting to the dim light seeping through the blinds. The room was a study in neutral tones, from the beige carpet to the off-white walls, and the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of a clock that had been a gift from his father.

John was an average man in his late twenties, with a body that suggested more time spent in front of a computer than at the gym. His hair was a mess of dark waves, and his eyes were a tired shade of brown. He worked a desk job that paid the bills but didn't excite him, and his social life was as bland as the décor in his apartment. His mornings were a routine of the same old grind.

Today, however, was different. John had received a letter, not the usual email or bill, but an actual letter with a proper stamp and an official-looking envelope. It was from the government, but it wasn't a tax notification or a jury duty summons. It was an invitation to a place called the DRONE Center. He had heard whispers about it, a mysterious facility that promised a life of purpose and fulfillment.

Curiosity piqued, John had signed up for more information, not truly believing he would ever receive a response. Now, as he stared at the envelope, his heart thumped in his chest. The logo on the letter was a sleek black drone, the letters "DRONE" emblazoned in shiny silver beneath it. The Division for the Recalibration of Obedient Neural Enclaves, it read. What could that mean? He had read the brochure countless times, but the reality of it all was starting to sink in.

John showered and dressed in his best suit, feeling the weight of the decision he was about to make. The center promised to transform him into something greater, to serve a higher purpose. As he stepped out into the crisp morning air, the world around him looked sharper, more vivid than it ever had before. The thought of leaving his mundane life behind for something more was intoxicating.

He arrived at the center, a towering, gleaming building nestled in the heart of the city. The doors slid open with a hiss, revealing a reception area that was more like a luxury hotel lobby than a government facility. The man at the desk looked up at him, his smile as perfect as the gleaming chrome surfaces around them. "Welcome to DRONE," he said, his voice a soothing purr. "We've been expecting you."

The elevator ride to the top floor was swift and silent, the mirrored walls reflecting his slightly nervous expression. When the doors opened, he was greeted by a room that looked more like a futuristic gym than anything else. Men in tight, rubberized suits moved with mechanical grace, their bodies sculpted to perfection. The air was filled with the faint scent of antiseptic and something else, something that made John's heart race.

The man who had led him there, Dr. Hartwell, explained the process in a cool, detached tone. "You'll undergo a series of treatments and training sessions to become one of our elite drones. It's a three-year commitment, but I assure you, it's an opportunity of a lifetime."

John nodded, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. He had made his choice, and there was no turning back now. As he donned the provided uniform, the smooth rubber clinging to his skin, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of life awaited him in the service of the DRONE Center.

#rubber #ai generated #muscles #jock #sexy #ai

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flowery-laser-blasts · 10 months

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It's the year 2023 and so much has changed...

Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable-Possible, now in their mid-thirties, work alongside Global Justice with their own specialized team (including Wade, Felix, and Jim & Tim). As for Dr. Drakken and Shego... After helping prevent the invasion of the Warlordians, Dr. Drakken and Shego were pardoned from almost all of their prior crimes against the safety of the world and eventually became, in their own words, 'neutral'. At times, they even aid Team Possible with intel, after all; who knows more about how villains do than ex-villains?

Dr. Drakken started working on his own world-improving inventions because he realized that 'positive' recognition from the world feels better than being despised by everyone, and this way he can rub it even more into James Possible's face... Shego became an elite mercenary/hitwoman after tutoring the best of the best agents of Global Justice for 5 years -it was part of her 'community service'- She now works separately from everyone, but always comes back home before Drakken finishes making dinner.

One day, Dr. Drakken thought of a hypothesis: if television programs are just a glimpse into an alternative reality and aliens exist with their ultra-advanced technology, then who says that alternative timelines aren't real? "Maybe we could learn from that to improve ours!"

He worked tirelessly on trying to find out if alternative universes or timelines exist, maybe ones where he and Shego were always good and Possible and Stoppable were the baddies, imagine!

But then he found something...

Dr. Drakken found out that there was a timeline that lined up exactly with the one they were in, except something was drastically different. It was stuck in some kind of purgatory; stuck in place but also as if looping over and over again. Separate from everything surrounding it but at the same time trying to free itself from its slumbering state.

Drakken looked into it, fascinated that this timeline could co-exist with theirs but at the same time not. What changed? Then it hit him.

"Tempus Simia... that Monkey plan-- It actually happened!?" Dr. Drakken sometimes ruminated on the weird feelings he had on the day the trio, and Shego, decided to abruptly give up on that time-traveling plan. None of them ever said or mentioned anything about it to one another, especially Monkey Fist... he became different. Drakken wished he could ask him about what happened that day, but alas the man became a supernaturally petrified lawn ornament.

"Did Monkey Fist know something about that statue that we didn't? Did the plan work? Is that what that timeline is?" Drakken became ansty, he needed to know what happened. Not that he was going to return to being evil, no-no, this was purely scientific, and well- curiosity took the upper hand. Perhaps he was a fair ruler in this 'time capsule'.

After months and months of calculations and testing, he managed to do it; Drakken succeeded in making a portal device that could connect and stabilize the broken timeline to ours. Shego wasn't entirely sure about this plan but decided to stick around to ensure the man wouldn't end up killing himself and everyone on the planet in some freak accident.

After flipping the switches and turning on the safety protocols, the machine started producing a whirling sound. No sooner did a small portal form, giving them a glimpse of the dystopian world of the Supreme One. "Wow, that-- is that me?" Shego pointed at a fallen statue. "Sheesh, who would've thought the sidekick could ever take over the world, right Drew?" Shego teasingly jabbed his arm, making Drakken roll his eyes in response. "Shego, dumpling, darling love of my life, I've apologized thousands of times already, can you finally let it go?!" He received a snicker in response, "I guess not, nevertheless, let me concentra--!" A loud bang snapped the two out of their banter, "Dr. D? What was that?!" Shego instinctively lit her hands as the room turned dark for a moment, the whirling sounds of the portal device intensified, and no sooner bright red warning signs started flashing while a deafening alarm went off around them. Shego looked at Drakken, who was frantically trying to close the portal. "Something's trying to push its way into here! I-- I haven't been able to properly secure that part yet-- Shego!" Drakken's face paled as he looked back in the direction of the portal.

"The Supreme One, actually." An icy chill went through Shego's spine as she heard her own voice coming from directly behind her. "I already thought, what took you so long Doc? It's not fun being stuck in time; ain' I right, Dr. D?" Both Shego and Drakken watched in disbelieve at the arrival of the Supreme One's sidekick, who within seconds hurled himself at the machinery, destroying most of it and breaking off the connection to the fractured timeline.

Drakken tried to jump in and save what was left by making his flowers restrain the brute, but the man ripped the foliage away from him as if it were nothing. The sidekick threw Drakken aside and blocked Shego from trying to get to him, holding her in a lock.

The supreme one stepped closer and looked at her restrained self.

"Now that botany-boy is taken care of... tell us, Shego: Where is Kimmie?"

---

I hope you guys like my little sequel idea for 'A Sitch in Time'. I absolutely love this TV movie!! I'm not much of a writer but it was so much fun imagining this story while drawing!! As for the future designs of everyone: - Kim's outfit is based on Stephen Silver's older Kim design. - Ron now has a utility belt that actually works and gloves that can help him control his Mystical Monkey Powers. - Shego's outfit stayed relatively the same with some adjustments, why change what works right? - Dr. Drakken (now Professor Lipsky) traded his blue lab coat for a white one... dress codes apply at his shared workplace, but he still wears a blue dress shirt underneath it. Aside from that his eyes aren't as good as they used to be and his contact lenses were out of the question since they tampered with the eye-scanning-security-device (he ended up being left outside of the lab for 3 hours because of it), so now he just wears glasses.

I also wanted to include Rufus in the story; Now a senior rodent, Rufus spends his retirement days around the lab assisting Drakken with various experiments and small talk while Kim and Ron are on missions. Hope you enjoyed both the drawing and the mini fanfic!!

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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months

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The (open) web is good, actually

I'll be at the Studio City branch of the LA Public Library tonight (Monday, November 13) at 1830hPT to launch my new novel, The Lost Cause. There'll be a reading, a talk, a surprise guest (!!) and a signing, with books on sale. Tell your friends! Come on down!

The great irony of the platformization of the internet is that platforms are intermediaries, and the original promise of the internet that got so many of us excited about it was disintermediation – getting rid of the middlemen that act as gatekeepers between community members, creators and audiences, buyers and sellers, etc.

The platformized internet is ripe for rent seeking: where the platform captures an ever-larger share of the value generated by its users, making the service worst for both, while lock-in stops people from looking elsewhere. Every sector of the modern economy is less competitive, thanks to monopolistic tactics like mergers and acquisitions and predatory pricing. But with tech, the options for making things worse are infinitely divisible, thanks to the flexibility of digital systems, which means that product managers can keep subdividing the Jenga blocks they pulling out of the services we rely on. Combine platforms with monopolies with digital flexibility and you get enshittification:

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

An enshittified, platformized internet is bad for lots of reasons – it concentrates decisions about who may speak and what may be said into just a few hands; it creates a rich-get-richer dynamic that creates a new oligarchy, with all the corruption and instability that comes with elite capture; it makes life materially worse for workers, users, and communities.

But there are many other ways in which the enshitternet is worse than the old good internet. Today, I want to talk about how the enshitternet affects openness and all that entails. An open internet is one whose workings are transparent (think of "open source"), but it's also an internet founded on access – the ability to know what has gone before, to recall what has been said, and to revisit the context in which it was said.

At last week's Museum Computer Network conference, Aaron Straup Cope gave a talk on museums and technology called "Wishful Thinking – A critical discussion of 'extended reality' technologies in the cultural heritage sector" that beautifully addressed these questions of recall and revisiting:

https://www.aaronland.info/weblog/2023/11/11/therapy/#wishful

Cope is a museums technologist who's worked on lots of critical digital projects over the years, and in this talk, he addresses himself to the difference between the excitement of the galleries, libraries, archives and museums (GLAM) sector over the possibilities of the web, and why he doesn't feel the same excitement over the metaverse, and its various guises – XR, VR, MR and AR.

The biggest reason to be excited about the web was – and is – the openness of disintermediation. The internet was inspired by the end-to-end principle, the idea that the network's first duty was to transmit data from willing senders to willing receivers, as efficiently and reliably as possible. That principle made it possible for whole swathes of people to connect with one another. As Cope writes, openness "was not, and has never been, a guarantee of a receptive audience or even any audience at all." But because it was "easy and cheap enough to put something on the web," you could "leave it there long enough for others to find it."

That dynamic nurtured an environment where people could have "time to warm up to ideas." This is in sharp contrast to the social media world, where "[anything] not immediately successful or viral … was a waste of time and effort… not worth doing." The social media bias towards a river of content that can't be easily reversed is one in which the only ideas that get to spread are those the algorithm boosts.

This is an important way to understand the role of algorithms in the context of the spread of ideas – that without recall or revisiting, we just don't see stuff, including stuff that might challenge our thinking and change our minds. This is a much more materialistic and grounded way to talk about algorithms and ideas than the idea that Big Data and AI make algorithms so persuasive that they can control our minds:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

As bad as this is in the social media context, it's even worse in the context of apps, which can't be linked into, bookmarked, or archived. All of this made apps an ominous sign right from the beginning:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

Apps interact with law in precisely the way that web-pages don't. "An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to defend yourself against corporate predation":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/27/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse/

Apps are "closed" in every sense. You can't see what's on an app without installing the app and "agreeing" to its terms of service. You can't reverse-engineer an app (to add a privacy blocker, or to change how it presents information) without risking criminal and civil liability. You can't bookmark anything the app won't let you bookmark, and you can't preserve anything the app won't let you preserve.

Despite being built on the same underlying open frameworks – HTTP, HTML, etc – as the web, apps have the opposite technological viewpoint to the web. Apps' technopolitics are at war with the web's technopolitics. The web is built around recall – the ability to see things, go back to things, save things. The web has the technopolitics of a museum:

https://www.aaronland.info/weblog/2014/09/11/brand/#dconstruct

By comparison, apps have the politics of a product, and most often, that product is a rent-seeking, lock-in-hunting product that wants to take you hostage by holding something you love hostage – your data, perhaps, or your friends:

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

When Anil Dash described "The Web We Lost" in 2012, he was describing a web with the technopolitics of a museum:

where tagging was combined with permissive licenses to make it easy for people to find and reuse each others' stuff;

where it was easy to find out who linked to you in realtime even though most of us were posting to our own sites, which they controlled;

where a link from one site to another meant one person found another person's contribution worthy;

where privacy-invasive bids to capture the web were greeted with outright hostility;

where every service that helped you post things that mattered to you was expected to make it easy for you take that data back if you changed services;

where inlining or referencing material from someone else's site meant following a technical standard, not inking a business-development deal;

https://www.anildash.com/2012/12/13/the_web_we_lost/

Ten years later, Dash's "broken tech/content culture cycle" described the web we live on now:

https://www.anildash.com/2022/02/09/the-stupid-tech-content-culture-cycle/

found your platform by promising to facilitate your users' growth;

order your technologists and designers to prioritize growth above all other factors and fire anyone who doesn't deliver;

grow without regard to the norms of your platform's users;

plaster over the growth-driven influx of abusive and vile material by assigning it to your "most marginalized, least resourced team";

deliver a half-assed moderation scheme that drives good users off the service and leaves no one behind but griefers, edgelords and trolls;

steadfastly refuse to contemplate why the marginalized users who made your platform attractive before being chased away have all left;

flail about in a panic over illegal content, do deals with large media brands, seize control over your most popular users' output;

"surface great content" by algorithmically promoting things that look like whatever's successful, guaranteeing that nothing new will take hold;

overpay your top performers for exclusivity deals, utterly neglect any pipeline for nurturing new performers;

abuse your creators the same ways that big media companies have for decades, but insist that it's different because you're a tech company;

ignore workers who warn that your product is a danger to society, dismiss them as "millennials" (defined as "anyone born after 1970 or who has a student loan")

when your platform is (inevitably) implicated in a murder, have a "town hall" overseen by a crisis communications firm;

pay the creator who inspired the murder to go exclusive on your platform;

dismiss the murder and fascist rhetoric as "growing pains";

when truly ghastly stuff happens on your platform, give your Trust and Safety team a 5% budget increase;

chase growth based on "emotionally engaging content" without specifying whether the emotions should be positive;

respond to ex-employees' call-outs with transient feelings of guilt followed by dismissals of "cancel culture":

fund your platforms' most toxic users and call it "free speech";

whenever anyone disagrees with any of your decisions, dismiss them as being "anti-free speech";

start increasing how much your platform takes out of your creators' paychecks;

force out internal dissenters, dismiss external critics as being in conspiracy with your corporate rivals;

once regulation becomes inevitable, form a cartel with the other large firms in your sector and insist that the problem is a "bad algorithm";

"claim full victim status," and quit your job, complaining about the toll that running a big platform took on your mental wellbeing.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/18/broken-records/#dashes

The web wasn't inevitable – indeed, it was wildly improbable. Tim Berners Lee's decision to make a new platform that was patent-free, open and transparent was a complete opposite approach to the strategy of the media companies of the day. They were building walled gardens and silos – the dialup equivalent to apps – organized as "branded communities." The way I experienced it, the web succeeded because it was so antithetical to the dominant vision for the future of the internet that the big companies couldn't even be bothered to try to kill it until it was too late.

Companies have been trying to correct that mistake ever since. After three or four attempts to replace the web with various garbage systems all called "MSN," Microsoft moved on to trying to lock the internet inside a proprietary browser. Years later, Facebook had far more success in an attempt to kill HTML with React. And of course, apps have gobbled up so much of the old, good internet.

Which brings us to Cope's views on museums and the metaverse. There's nothing intrinsically proprietary about virtual worlds and all their permutations. VRML is a quarter of a century old – just five years younger than Snow Crash:

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

But the current enthusiasm for virtual worlds isn't merely a function of the interesting, cool and fun experiences you can have in them. Rather, it's a bid to kill off whatever is left of the old, good web and put everything inside a walled garden. Facebook's metaverse "is more of the same but with a technical footprint so expensive and so demanding that it all but ensures it will only be within the means of a very few companies to operate."

Facebook's VR headsets have forward-facing cameras, turning every users into a walking surveillance camera. Facebook put those cameras there for "pass through" – so they can paint the screens inside the headset with the scene around you – but "who here believes that Facebook doesn't have other motives for enabling an always-on camera capturing the world around you?"

Apple's VisionPro VR headset is "a near-perfect surveillance device," and "the only thing to save this device is the trust that Apple has marketed its brand on over the last few years." Cope notes that "a brand promise is about as fleeting a guarantee as you can get." I'll go further: Apple is already a surveillance company:

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

The technopolitics of the metaverse are the opposite of the technopolitics of the museum – even moreso than apps. Museums that shift their scarce technology budgets to virtual worlds stand a good chance of making something no one wants to use, and that's the best case scenario. The worst case is that museums make a successful project inside a walled garden, one where recall is subject to corporate whim, and help lure their patrons away from the recall-friendly internet to the captured, intermediated metaverse.

It's true that the early web benefited from a lot of hype, just as the metaverse is enjoying today. But the similarity ends there: the metaverse is designed for enclosure, the web for openness. Recall is a historical force for "the right to assembly… access to basic literacy… a public library." The web was "an unexpected gift with the ability to change the order of things; a gift that merits being protected, preserved and promoted both internally and externally." Museums were right to jump on the web bandwagon, because of its technopolitics. The metaverse, with its very different technopolitics, is hostile to the very idea of museums.

In joining forces with metaverse companies, museums strike a Faustian bargain, "because we believe that these places are where our audiences have gone."

The GLAM sector is devoted to access, to recall, and to revisiting. Unlike the self-style free speech warriors whom Dash calls out for self-serving neglect of their communities, the GLAM sector is about preservation and access, the true heart of free expression. When a handful of giant companies organize all our discourse, the ability to be heard is contingent on pleasing the ever-shifting tastes of the algorithm. This is the problem with the idea that "freedom of speech isn't freedom of reach" – if a platform won't let people who want to hear from you see what you have to say, they are indeed compromising freedom of speech:

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

Likewise, "censorship" is not limited to "things that governments do." As Ada Palmer so wonderfully describes it in her brilliant "Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet" speech, censorship is like arsenic, with trace elements of it all around us:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMMJb3AxA0s

A community's decision to ban certain offensive conduct or words on pain of expulsion or sanction is censorship – but not to the same degree that, say, a government ban on expressing certain points of view is. However, there are many kinds of private censorship that rise to the same level as state censorship in their impact on public discourse (think of Moms For Liberty and their book-bannings).

It's not a coincidence that Palmer – a historian – would have views on censorship and free speech that intersect with Cope, a museum worker. One of the most brilliant moments in Palmer's speech is where she describes how censorship under the Inquistion was not state censorship – the Inquisition was a multinational, nongovernmental body that was often in conflict with state power.

Not all intermediaries are bad for speech or access. The "disintermediation" that excited early web boosters was about escaping from otherwise inescapable middlemen – the people who figured out how to control and charge for the things we did with one another.

When I was a kid, I loved the writing of Crad Kilodney, a short story writer who sold his own self-published books on Toronto street-corners while wearing a sign that said "VERY FAMOUS CANADIAN AUTHOR, BUY MY BOOKS" (he also had a sign that read, simply, "MARGARET ATWOOD"). Kilodney was a force of nature, who wrote, edited, typeset, printed, bound, and sold his own books:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/books/article-late-street-poet-and-publishing-scourge-crad-kilodney-left-behind-a/

But there are plenty of writers out there that I want to hear from who lack the skill or the will to do all of that. Editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers – all the intermediaries who sit between a writer and their readers – are not bad. They're good, actually. The problem isn't intermediation – it's capture.

For generations, hucksters have conned would-be writers by telling them that publishing won't buy their books because "the gatekeepers" lack the discernment to publish "quality" work. Friends of mine in publishing laughed at the idea that they would deliberately sideline a book they could figure out how to sell – that's just not how it worked.

But today, monopolized film studios are literally annihilating beloved, high-priced, commercially viable works because they are worth slightly more as tax writeoffs than they are as movies:

https://deadline.com/2023/11/coyote-vs-acme-shelved-warner-bros-discovery-writeoff-david-zaslav-1235598676/

There's four giant studios and five giant publishers. Maybe "five" is the magic number and publishing isn't concentrated enough to drop whole novels down the memory hole for a tax deduction, but even so, publishing is trying like hell to shrink to four:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/07/random-penguins/#if-you-wanted-to-get-there-i-wouldnt-start-from-here

Even as the entertainment sector is working to both literally and figuratively destroy our libraries, the cultural heritage sector is grappling with preserving these libraries, with shrinking budgets and increased legal threats:

https://blog.archive.org/2023/03/25/the-fight-continues/

I keep meeting artists of all description who have been conditioned to be suspicious of anything with the word "open" in its name. One colleague has repeatedly told me that fighting for the "open internet" is a self-defeating rhetorical move that will scare off artists who hear "open" and think "Big Tech ripoff."

But "openness" is a necessary precondition for preservation and access, which are the necessary preconditions for recall and revisiting. Here on the last, melting fragment of the open internet, as tech- and entertainment-barons are seizing control over our attention and charging rent on our ability to talk and think together, openness is our best hope of a new, good internet. T

he cultural heritage sector wants to save our creative works. The entertainment and tech industry want to delete them and take a tax writeoff.

As a working artist, I know which side I'm on.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/13/this-is-for-everyone/#revisiting

Image: Diego Delso (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Museo_Mimara,_Zagreb,_Croacia,_2014-04-20,_DD_01.JPG

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

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mywitchyblog · 25 days

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Boundaries

I realize I should have done this a long time ago, but it's never too late to make things right.

Do Not Interact and Stay Away From My Page If:

You are a Zionist. I do not support genocide, and no, this land does not belong to you because of what an imaginary being in a book supposedly declared. (Even the Torah suggests you shouldn't have the land—be for real).

You are a bigot. This includes transphobics, homophobics, racists, and anyone who subscribes to similar prejudices.

You oppose race and age changing, permashifting, or respawning. Yes, this page supports these concepts. For my full opinion, check my posts.

You engage in fallacious arguments. I welcome debate and intelligent discussions, but if you resort to ad hominem attacks (such as accusing me of using AI to generate my arguments), straw man tactics, or hasty generalizations, get off my page. These are not acceptable forms of discourse.

You are a skeptic who dismisses alternative spiritual practices. If you're here just to ridicule or discredit reality shifting, permashifting, or any other spiritual practices without a genuine intent to understand or discuss, this isn't the place for you.

You promote toxic positivity or spiritual bypassing. This is a space for genuine exploration and growth, not for ignoring real issues by masking them with forced positivity or spiritual jargon.

You are a gatekeeper of spirituality. If you believe there's only one "correct" way to explore spirituality, or if you shame others for their beliefs and practices, this page is not for you.

You are a closed-minded materialist. If you reject anything beyond the material world and can't engage with concepts like reality shifting with an open mind, please find another space.

You are a troll or engage in harassment. This space is meant for meaningful discussion, not for trolling or harassment. If you’re here to cause trouble, move along.

You deny or invalidate others' experiences. Everyone's journey is unique, and if you cannot respect that, this isn't the right place for you.

You exploit spiritual practices for financial gain. If you're here to push overpriced courses, fake services, or exploit people’s beliefs for profit, you’re not welcome.

You trivialize mental health issues. Reality shifting and spiritual practices can be complex and deeply personal. Dismissing or mocking mental health in these contexts will not be tolerated.

You are dogmatic in your religious beliefs. If you believe your religious views are the only truth and cannot engage with alternative perspectives, this page isn’t for you.

You spread misinformation. This includes making unsubstantiated claims or spreading conspiracy theories that could harm others.

You believe in imposing your beliefs on others. This is a space for sharing and discussing ideas, not for forcing your beliefs onto others.

You promote hate speech or violence. Any form of hate speech or encouragement of violence against any group or individual is absolutely not tolerated here.

You are close-minded to non-conventional lifestyles. If you cannot respect or accept people living lifestyles different from societal norms, especially those related to spiritual and metaphysical practices, you’re not welcome here.

You are dismissive of youth or new practitioners. Everyone starts somewhere, and this is a supportive space for learners of all ages. Elitism and ageism have no place here.

#reality shifting #shiftblr #desired reality #shifting #shifting community #shifters #shifting realities #reality shift #reality shifter #shifting antis dni

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yurimother · 1 year

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The 2023 Yuri Guide - Light Novels

Your ultimate guide to the best Yuri content with over 200 curated titles from every genre and medium.

Bloom Into You: Regarding Saeki Sayaka

• School • Drama • Romance

Saeki Sayaka has always been an old soul—serious and reserved, preferring to focus on her studies rather than make friends. Until, that is, a romantic confession from another girl in middle school turns her carefully ordered world upside down. Though none of her classes have prepared her for this, Saeki must now come to terms with her sexuality in this gentle, coming-of-age novel about grappling with first love, growing up, and relating to other people.

~Written by Hitoma Iruma, Illustrated and Created by Nakatani Nio~ Licensed by Seven Seas Entertainment

The Executioner and Her Way of Life

• Action • Fantasy • Isekai • Enemies to Lovers

When Menou, an Executioner of deadly interdimensional “Lost Ones,” encounters a Lost One named Akari who can cheat death, she sets out on a mission to kill the unkillable girl — but her newly stirring feelings might get in the way of her blade.

~Created by Mato Sato, Illustrated by nilitsu~ Licensed by Yen Press

Girls Kingdom

• School • Romance • Comedy • Master/Servant

All Misaki wanted was a free education. Instead, she accidentally lands an exclusive contract with the most prestigious girl in school... to serve as her personal maid! Misaki soon discovers that Amanotsuka Academy for Girls is no ordinary school—her classes are all about how to be a maid, too! Students who impress the school’s elite young ladies with their domestic service skills might be lucky enough to become a “Seraph,” guaranteeing them a job with an upper-class household after they graduate.

~Created by Nayo, Illustrated by Shio Sakura~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Girls’ Love of the Dead

• Horror • Mystery

When Mitsuki’s best friend suddenly dies, she decides to seek out the old abandoned building of their school, the Romero Private Academy for Girls. But when she meets her dear Rin again, there are quite a lot of reasons why the other girl doesn’t remember her…

~Created by Nanaoku Hoshii, Illustrated by Akiko Morishima~ Licensed by Manga Planet

I’m in Love with the Villainess: She’s so Cheeky for a Commoner

• Isekai • School • Comedy • Action • Fantasy • Romance • Enemies to Lovers

Claire François has it all: beauty, brains, and the blood of nobility. As the daughter of a high-ranking noble, she takes her status and the according responsibilities with utmost seriousness—even as the king threatens to undermine his realm’s stability with his visions of “meritocracy.” Claire is nevertheless prepared to take this societal change in stride, until one of the new commoner students at her elite academy, Rae Taylor, turns her life upside down. Everything about Rae confounds Claire, from her behavior to her intellect to her bizarre fixation on Claire herself. Little does she realize just how much Rae will change her world, and how much she’ll change Rae in turn.

~Created by Inori, Illustrated by Hanagata~ Licensed by Seven Seas Entertainment

Last and First Idol

• Horror • Sci-Fi • Anthology

"Bye-bye, Earth! My idol activities here were so much fun!” A wannabe idol turned reality-shattering entity, existential isekai organisms, and a space opera about murderous voice actors… Award-winning author Gengen Kusano presenting an astounding collection of three harrowing existential widescreen yuri baroque proletariat hard sci-fi idol story has carved out a new legend in science fiction history! These high-concept stories are crammed full of horrific imagery and exceptionally detailed science that will leave your mind reeling.

~Created by Gengen Kusano~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

A Lily Blooms in Another World

• Isekai • Romance • Fantasy • Enemies to Lovers

Miyako Florence isn’t sad when her fiancé breaks off their engagement after two years. It’s all according to plan! Whisked into the world of her favorite otome game, Miyako frees herself from a dull noble to pursue her true soulmate: the game’s villainess Fuuka Hamilton. Proud Fuuka only has eyes for their mutual ex-fiancé! Miyako confesses her love to Fuuka and proposes that they run away together. Fuuka agrees on one condition: Miyako must make her say “I’m happy” in 14 days. With conniving nobles, strange diseases, and magical rituals pulling them apart, can Miyako win the villainess’s heart?

~Created by Ameko Kaeruda, Illustrated by Shio Sakura~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Lily Clairet

• School • Slice of Life • Weak Yuri

A young girl is arguing with a cherry tree. That's a new one for Lily, who's managed to reach the end of her first year at high school without too much weirdness. Unfortunately for her, it's not long after solving this odd mystery that her untroubled life begins to unravel. Discovering an abandoned room at the end of the music department corridor, she finds that aside from it being utterly run-down, it's also devoid of its sole occupant: Sonata Sonoda, the missing journalism club president.

~Created by Kaye Ng, Illustrated by Rumikuu~ Independently Published

LOVELY! My Adorable Mamecchi

• School • Romance • Friends to Lovers

Everyone may have their eyes on the charming, prince-like Hikaru, but there's only one person Hikaru's got her eyes on - her darling childhood friend Mamecchi! But between Mamecchi's hot-and-cold personality and Hikaru's subconscious denials, this sure doesn't look like a recipe for success...when a certain repeat customer gets into Mamecchi's good graces, will Hikaru finally muster up the courage to confess to her first love?

~Kumako Nanbu, Hiromi Takashima~ Licensed by Manga Planet

The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady

• Fantasy • Romance • Comedy • Isekai

Despite her supposed ineptitude with regular magic, Princess Anisphia defies the aristocracy's expectations by developing "magicology," a unique magical theory based on memories from her past life. One day, she witnesses the brilliant noblewoman Euphyllia unjustly stripped of her title as the kingdom's next monarch. That's when Anisphia concocts a plan to help Euphyllia regain her good name-which somehow involves them living together and researching magic! Little do these two ladies know, however, that their chance encounter will alter not only their own futures, but those of the kingdom...and the entire world!

~Created by Piero Karasu, Illustrated by Yuri Kisaragi~ Licensed by Yen Press

ROLL OVER AND DIE: I Will Fight for an Ordinary Life with My Love and Cursed Sword!

• Fantasy • Action • Horror • Master/Servant • Slow Burn

Flum Apricot was never meant to be a hero. Despite zero stats across the board and a power she can’t even use, she somehow finds herself included in a party of heroes. But Flum’s life hits rock bottom when the party’s renowned sage, Jean Inteige, decides that the useless girl is dead weight, and arranges to have her sold into slavery. Tossed to monsters to be feasted upon for her master’s entertainment, Flum makes the desperate choice to reach for a cursed weapon…and something new awakens within her. A grimdark tale about one woman’s blood-soaked quest to reclaim her life!

~Created by kiki, Illustrated by kinta~ Licensed by Seven Seas Entertainment

Sasayaki no Kiss -Read my lips.-

• School • Romance • Drama

Haruka has always lived in a soundless world. But not in her dreams, where she can hear her own voice - and the voice of the only other person in the dream with her, a beautiful high school student wearing an adorable, unfamiliar school uniform. Haruka knows this is just a dream, but why does a part of her think it's more than that? Is this girl she finds falling asleep in the park really the literal girl of her dreams?

~Created by Kumako Nambu, Illustrated by Akiko Morishima~ Licensed by Manga Planet

Seriously Seeking Sister! Ultimate Vampire Princess Just Wants Little Sister

• Comedy • Fantasy • Yuri Harem

Long ago, on the continent of Ephenia, there existed the feared tribe of vampires called “True Bloods,” whose great strength allowed them to reign supreme over all other tribes. However, a millennium has passed, and any trace of them has vanished off the face of the planet. That is, until the youngest and most talented royal daughter of the True Bloods awakens in the modern day.

~Created by Hiironoame, Illustrated by Siso~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Sexiled: My Sexist Party Leader Kicked Me Out, So I Teamed Up With a Mythical Sorceress!

• Fantasy • Comedy • Action

Tanya Artemiciov is a talented Mage-class adventurer who just got kicked out of her party by a sexist scumbag. So what's a girl to do? Go to the wasteland and blow stuff up of course! One small problem though: she inadvertently frees a mythical Sorceress named Laplace who was sealed away for the past 300 years… Surprise! Turns out this so-called "wicked" Sorceress is actually pretty cool. Laplace wants to start a party of her own, Tanya wants revenge, and the solution is obvious: team up. It's time to kick ass, kiss girls, and dismantle the patriarchy!

~Created by Ameko Kaeruda, Illustrated by Kazutomo Miya~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Side-By-Side Dreamers

• Sci-Fi • Supernatural • Action • Fated Lovers • Love at First Sight

Unbeknownst to the common citizens, a battle has been unfolding between the Suiju, beings that possess people's spirits in the land of sleep, and the Sleepwalkers, who have the power to move about freely in their dreams. Saya Hokage, a high school girl who is unable to sleep due to insomnia, encounters Hitsuji Konparu, a girl who can put anyone to sleep as a “lover” in a dream. When Hitsuji's senpai sees potential in Saya, she ends up joining them and their group of Sleepwalkers on their mission.

~Created by Iori Miyazawa~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Two Guns Under the Sheet

• Action • Drama • Enemies to Lovers • Shakaijin • Love at First Sight

All Aya wanted was a one-night stand that could take her mind off her lost love, but with Sakura, she may have finally gotten more than a one-night stand - she may have finally found "The One"! But before she rushes into imagining their future together, there's one uncomfortable question Aya has to face first - could it be possible that her beautiful new love is somehow related to the same organization she's bound by duty to destroy?

~Created by Kumako Nambu, Illustrated by Akiko Morishima~ Licensed by Manga Planet

Yuri Tama: From Third Wheel to Trifecta

• School • Romance • comedy

Yuna Momose and Rinka Aiba were made for each other, and their whole school knows it. Between Yuna's princess-like elegance and Rinka's prince-like charm, all their classmates see them as the ideal couple. Yotsuba Hazama is no exception to that, but she is exceptional in another way: she's somehow managed to become fast friends with both of them! Having the whole school's favorite ship as her two best friends isn't exactly easy, though. Not only does it make everyone treat Yotsuba like a particularly obnoxious third wheel, it makes her feel like one too! Or at least it does, until one day, Yuna asks her out. And then Rinka asks her out too! And Yotsuba, whose social anxiety never seems to kick in until after she's already messed something up...says yes to both of them, without sparing so much as a single thought for the consequences. Oops! Now Yotsuba only has one choice: keep her accidental two-timing under wraps and make both of her new girlfriends as happy as she possibly can!

~Created by toshizou, Illustrated by Kuro Shina~ Licensed by J-Novel Club

Yuri Will Not Blossom at Work!

• Drama • Romance • Enemies to Lovers • Shakaijin

Just as Rikka thinks the matchmaking event she grudgingly signed up for can’t get any more dreadful, she runs into her colleague-slash-rival Yuri Kisugi. Using Rikka’s embarrassment as leverage, Yuri compels Rikka into helping her find the perfect candidate to marry. Rikka goes along with Yuri’s antics with the hopes it will lead her rival away while she climbs up the company ranks. But what happens when Rikka’s nurturing tendencies coincide with Yuri’s secret vulnerabilities?…

~Created by Mai Yanagawa, Illustrated by Ruri Hazuki~ Licensed by Manga Planet

Yurizen! Salon -Shirayuri’s Comforting Food Therapy-

• Shakaijin • Romance • Slow Burn

Was it fate that led to Miiko meeting Doctor Shirayuri that one rainy day…or was it just her cramps? Pâtissier Miiko works through little pains like the rest of us, but when her ailments begin to affect her work, there’s got to be something she can do about it. Enter beautiful, mysterious herbal medicine doctor Shirayuri, who might be the solution to Miiko’s problems – in more ways than one!

~Created by Kumako Nambu, Illustrated by Miso Higashikawa~ Licensed by Manga Planet

Read More of the 2023 Yuri Guide

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#yuri #queer #yuri guide #girls love #lgbt #gay #lgbtq #gl #lesbian #anime #manga #light novels

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probablyasocialecologist · 10 months

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The reality is that to achieve sufficiently rapid decarbonization, we have to reduce aggregate energy use in the high income countries, faster than what efficiency improvements alone allow. And that has to be done by scaling down less necessary forms of production. This is very specifically what degrowth means, and that’s SUVs, private jets, cruises, fast fashion, weapons, advertising, et cetera. There are parts of our economy that exist, more or less, only to service capital accumulation or elite consumption, have very little to do with human wellbeing. And in the middle of an ecological emergency, when we’re trying to rapidly decarbonize the economy, they have to be scaled down.

The Double Objective of Democratic Ecosocialism with Jason Hickel

#degrowth #jason hickel

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sitp-recs · 5 months

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do you have a fic rec where harry healed his trauma and then he met draco who still feel so shameful about himself, so then harry helps draco to heal his war trauma? thanks in advance! 💓

Hi anon, what a great ask! I love the idea of them bonding over shared trauma, and I think the best fics exploring this theme are the ones showing that healing is in fact an ongoing (and often non-linear) process, in this sense they’re always healing together 🥹 here are some fics that came to mind, most are down & out Draco but not all of them. Enjoy!

Slow Hands by eleventy7 (T, 10k)

Blood, shadows, and paper hearts. The Shadow hunts students, but Draco Malfoy most of all.

Rebuilding Draco Malfoy by khasael (E, 11k)

Draco wants to do something to get his life back on track, but no-one seems to be taking him seriously – until he finds himself in an Auror training session led by Harry Potter.

Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn (T, 15k)

When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

The Years That Walk Between by Femme (E, 16k) - past Draco/Snape

Draco finds his way after the war.

Between Myth and Man by slytherco (E, 16k)

Draco, lost and a little broken, navigates post-war reality convinced that people like him should not be allowed to make their own choices. To solve the problem of his self-sabotaging tendencies, he starts taking a few drops of Veritaserum every morning.

Benevolence and Redemption by silvered_glass (M, 19k)

Draco's the most unlikely Auror recruited to the department in at least three centuries. Ostracised and unwanted, he's been on paperwork duties for the three years since he finished training. Harry is the Saviour of the Wizarding World with nice forearms and too-large hands who suddenly starts turning up in the Ministry gym when Draco’s there, and sitting on Draco’s desk, and asking for Draco’s assistance on cases.

Vale Sanare by RurouniHime (M, 23k)

Draco’s world gains a new component just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

Strange Bedfellows by ravenclawsquill (E, 30k)

When Harry encounters a frail and fidgety Draco Malfoy at the Ministry, he just knows something is wrong and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it. A story about Deadly Nightshade, crippling insomnia, excellent wine … and finding what you need in the strangest of circumstances.

Open For Repairs by FeelsForBreakfast (M, 5k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things. feat. sad boys in jumpers and more ABBA than is probably necessary

As Souls From Bodies Steal by Femme (E, 41k)

Hope may be found in the oddest of places, even in the bleakness of winter.

(We'll Call This Fixer-Upper) Home by @phdmama (E, 52k)

Draco Malfoy hasn’t set foot on English soil in ten years. After the war, he fled to America, where he found himself in a community, and healed himself through following his heart into music. He’s now the lead singer and songwriter for an internationally known band, who have come back to headline the Wiltshire Music Festival. But as Draco is about to learn, his past isn’t as far away as he might have believed, and his future may hold more than he ever could have dreamed.

Super Rich Kids by trishjames (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

At Your Service by Faith Wood (E, 95k)

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There's only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (M, 114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #war trauma #Harry helping Draco heal

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maximumphilosopheranchor · 4 months

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“We need to strengthen the conflict between Zaluzhny and Zelensky, along the lines of ‘he intends to fire him,’” one Kremlin political strategist wrote a year ago, after a meeting of senior Russian officials and Moscow spin doctors, according to internal Kremlin documents.

Russian President Vladimir Putin’s administration ordered a group of Russian political strategists to use social media and fake news articles to push the theme that Zelensky “is hysterical and weak. … He fears that he will be pushed aside, therefore he is getting rid of the dangerous ones.”

The Kremlin instruction resulted in thousands of social media posts and hundreds of fabricated articles, created by troll farms and circulated in Ukraine and across Europe, that tried to exploit what were then rumored tensions between the two Ukrainian leaders, according to a trove of Kremlin documents obtained by a European intelligence service and reviewed by The Washington Post. The files, numbering more than 100 documents, were shared with The Post to expose for the first time the scale of Kremlin propaganda targeting Zelensky with the aim of dividing and destabilizing Ukrainian society — efforts that Moscow dubbed “information psychological operations.”(..)

The documents show how in January 2023 the Kremlin’s first deputy chief of staff, Sergei Kiriyenko, tasked a team of officials and political strategists with establishing a presence on Ukrainian social media to distribute disinformation.

The effort built on an earlier project that Kiriyenko, a longtime Putin aide, had been running to subvert Western support for Ukraine, including in France and Germany, previous reporting by The Post shows. The European propaganda group was overseen by one of Kiriyenko’s deputies, Tatyana Matveeva, head of the Kremlin’s department for developing information and communication technologies, the documents show.(..)

At a Jan. 16, 2023, meeting, Kiriyenko laid out four key objectives for the Ukraine propaganda team: discrediting Kyiv’s military and political leadership, splitting the Ukrainian elite, demoralizing Ukrainian troops and disorienting the Ukrainian population, the documents show.(..)

By early March, dozens of hired trolls were pumping out more than 1,300 texts and 37,000 comments on Ukrainian social media each week, according to one of the dashboard presentations. Records show that employees at troll farms earned 60,000 rubles a month, or $660, for writing 100 comments a day.(..)

The strategists advised developing “a network of Telegram channels in combination with Twitter and Facebook/Instagram” as the most effective way of penetrating Ukraine’s media space, noting that the Telegram audience in Ukraine had grown 600 percent over the previous year. (..)

By the first week of May,a post the Kremlin strategists had planted on Facebook, saying that “Valery Zaluzhny can become the next president of Ukraine,” had garnered 4.3 million views, one of the dashboard presentations shows. The Kremlin then issued orders to create similar posts or “additional reality” — a term used by Russian officials for fake news — including reports that Western leaders were looking for a replacement for Zelensky and that Zaluzhny intended to halt the counteroffensive.

Meta, the parent company of Facebook, said in a statement referring to the Russian posts about Zaluzhny and the alleged lack of state aid for the fallen soldier that it had been “monitoring and blocking accounts, Pages and websites run by this campaign” since 2022, “including these two Pages that were quickly detected and disabled by our security team.”

Undeterred, the strategists planted a plethora of articles in Ukraine via social media, with one in May headlined “Zelensky is holding on to the throne. In Ukraine democracy is being liquidated,” the documents show. Another in June sought to play up what it claimed was the prolonged disappearance of Zaluzhny from public view, with bloggers instructed to post comments declaring: “This is why Zaluzhny disappeared: Because he could have and should have taken Zelensky’s place.”

The strategists also sought to exploit Kiriyenko’s campaign in Western Europe by recycling its disinformation for use in Ukraine. The tactics in the European campaign included cloning and usurping media and government websites, such as those for Le Monde and the French Foreign Ministry, and then posting fake content on them denigrating the Ukrainian government, in an operation dubbed Doppelgänger by European Union officials. They also included creating fake accounts on X, or Twitter, for prominent figures including German Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock. The strategists sought to place stories or posts from those websites or accounts on Ukrainian social media as genuine European reporting or commentary.

After the fake Baerbock account declared in September that “the war in Ukraine will be over in 3 months,” the German authorities launched an investigation and found more than 50,000 fake user accounts coordinating pro-Russian propaganda, including those promoting the tweet. Officials believe the fake accounts were an extension of the Doppelgänger campaign, Der Spiegel reported.

The Doppelgänger operation was first exposed by Meta in September 2022 and then by French authoritieslast summer and tied to Reliable Recent News, a fake news site traced back to two Russian companies, the Social Design Agency and Structura National Technologies. The Kremlin documents show that the heads of Social Design Agency and Structura — Ilya Gambashidze and Nikolai Tupikin — worked directly with Kiriyenko and another Kremlin official, Sofiya Zakharova, who coordinated efforts in Europe and Ukraine.“She is the brain,” a European security official said.

The E.U. imposed sanctions in July on Gambashidze, Structura National Technologies and Social Design Agency for what it said was their role in creating fake webpages and social media accounts “usurping the identity of national media outlets and government websites” as part of “a hybrid campaign by Russia against the EU and member states.” Gambashidze and Tupikin were named by the U.S. State Department in November for their role in Kremlin efforts to spread disinformation in Latin America(..)

Gambashidze, Tupikin and their colleagues proposed narratives they hoped would destroy Zelensky’s image in the West as “the hero of a small country fighting a global evil,” one of the documents sent in April shows. They suggested portraying Zelensky as an actor only capable of following a script written for him by the United States and NATO,and his Western backers as tiring of him. They proposed distributing fake Ukrainian government documents as evidence of corrupt military procurement schemes, and suggesting that Zelensky and his family had Western bank accounts, the document shows.

The plans led to hundreds of articles and thousands of social media posts translated into French, German and English that targeted Zelensky, the document trove shows.

One article, for a French audience, was headlined: “The conductor has gotten bored of Zelensky’s concerts: the actions of the U.S. in Ukraine lead one to believe that Washington soon intends to get rid of Zelensky, without discussing this with Paris.”

On the basis of this article, one of the strategists ordered a troll farm employee to prepare social media posts in French saying, “Washington will replace Zelensky with a more capable president. And France will have to silently continue arming and financing Ukraine.”

Another article described how Zelensky had pushed for Ukrainian forces to defend Bakhmut against Zaluzhny’s wishes, leading, it said, to the deaths of 250,000 Ukrainian troops, a wildly exaggerated death toll in what was nonetheless a brutal battle for the city. The troll farm employees were asked to write comments such as “Why do Ukrainian generals hate Zelensky? PR out of the blood of fighters” and “To shoot the exhausted president? In Ukraine, a generals’ conspiracy is brewing.”

One of the strategists’ aims, European security officials said, was to ensure that the themes placed in European social media filtered back into Ukraine, through reposts and amplification,or by being picked up by Ukrainian politicians keen to boost their profiles with provocative posts.(..)

The strategists also had price lists for planting pro-Russian commentary in prominent Western media and for paying social media “influencers” in the United States and Europe “willing to work with Russian clients.” The documents say the Russians were willing to pay up to $39,000 for the planting of pro-Russian commentary in major media outlets in the West.

“Practically everywhere this will be columnists, leaders of public opinion, former diplomats, officials, professors and so on,” a note attached to the price list states.”

Catherine Belton, “Kremlin runs disinformation campaign to undermine Zelensky, documents show”

#Catherine Belton #Volodymyr Zelenskyy #Ukraine #Russia #Vladimir Putin #disinformation #fake news #social media #russian propaganda #media literacy #really good article

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untaemedqueen · 3 months

Text

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 23.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Warnings For This Chapter: TEA

To step on campus again feels like stepping into a past reality that Guk isn't so sure he's comfortable with.

The month that Joon was supposed to be gone turned into two and Jeongguk found a niceness in having a regular schedule… until he ended up coming back, of course.

The annoyance of seeing the blonde man started to creep up once again once he came back. Joon seemed like he was coping well until he wasn't. His personality and his actions reverted right back to how he was before he went on vacation. You attested it to Namjoon breaking up with his vacation fling but Jeongguk couldn't forgive him for acting in such a way.

So when you bought him a car and you told him to enroll once more to Stanford, he was relieved in a way. But now as he steps onto the green for his first classes of the semester, he's having scary flashbacks to when he was last here.

Leaning against one of the big trees, he takes a deep calming breath. The last time he was here, it was a distressing mess.

Moving out of his dorm room, saying goodbye to all of the girls that used to pay him… it hurts his soul to think about.

Guk is excited for his classes though, to think about experiencing learning his favorite things once more without having the struggle of escorting excites him.

Taking a deep breath and looking over to the science building, he can only smile to himself. "Okay, let's go."

The walk isn't long, it's nice to take in the fresh fall air as the wind whips around him soothingly. The sounds of excited college students talking all around him fills him with determination.

"Excuse me?"

His head turns slowly, having to look down at the girl who has tapped his shoulder.

He gives her a small friendly smile, unsure what he can do to help her or why she's called him but she seems incredibly confident in her pink and white houndstooth dress. There's something elite about her in a way, maybe it's her confident smile or maybe it's how she crosses her arms.

"Do you need help finding your building?" she inquires.

There's a heavy bit of flirting on her end, smoothness curling off of her tongue to no avail. Just behind her are two other girls, people that the father of your child assumes are something of a posse for this girl.

"Oh no, thanks. I got it," he breathes, once again giving a smile to be off.

When he goes to turn around, she stops him by pressing her perfectly manicured hand to his bicep. "That was my way of asking you if you wanted to hang out."

He hums knowingly, fixing his shoulder bag. "Oh, I know. I'm just not interested. Thanks though."

"Excuse me?" she grumbles, blinking at his words.

College will forever and always be the same, Guk guesses.

"Have a good day," your fiance says curtly, taking off towards the science building.

"Are you kidding me?!" she gasps, laughing aloud.

"I'm married," he calls back to her, not even turning around.

"Girl, you didn't see him in the tabloids? His fiance is like mega rich or something," one of the posse guffaws, earning a smile on the father of your child's face.

Some things never change. Only people do.

Jeongguk has missed this so much. The satisfaction of learning his favorite subject is simply awe-inspiring. As soon as he sat down in his first lecture of the day, he realized just how much he needed this. He needs to learn, he needs to use his brain and more than anything he needs to have like minds around him.

How could he ever have gone so long without using his mind like this? How could he ever have been an escort when his calling is physics? And the only reason he could do all this is you.

He has been getting weird looks all day, not because he's new (he doesn't think so anyway) but because both him and yourself have been slapped over news articles for the past two months.

Once he started working at your company, once you started really showing off his baby, the media began to eat it up. He can still remember tabloid headlines now, the quick witted words stuck in his brain like gum on a shoe.

The Queen Of Wine Wraps Her Vines Around The Perfect Man.

Self Made Millionaire Grabs Handsome Man As Prize For Her Own.

Aloof Millionaire Finally Finds It In Her Heart To Settle Down.

Wine Owner Comes Down From Her Tower, Pregnant And Barefoot For The World To See.

You seemed to only mind that they were talking about Guk without his permission but he didn't care. He has you and his son, he has happiness and love, who is he to care?

Putting his laptop back into his shoulder bag, he takes a look around the lecture hall he sat in so many years ago. Everything is the same, the wall paint, the large podium, the projector screen with the thinnest crack in it -- everything.

His professor is not the same but he finds comfort in that. He wouldn't want his old professor to see him once again and be weary of his dedication to learning.

As the rest of the students depart, his professor calls his name without looking away from his binder. "Jeongguk Jeon?"

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he tilts his head. "Yes, Professor Haleford?"

He descends the long set of stairs, minding a few other students who give him curious glances on their way out.

When the room is empty, Haleford looks up. "I see here that you've taken this class previously for a year before dropping out, not just of physics but the whole college."

Guk chuckles awkwardly, running his hand over the back of his neck. So much for comfort and no awkwardness.

"Yeah, I…I couldn't afford it back then. But now that I can, I want to dedicate myself to this subject and everything it has to offer. This is my passion," your fiance breathes, looking down at his shoes.

"Interesting. Y'know, the professor before me, Professor Albastone, he wasn't so much of a forward thinker. He had his ways about him and his strict thinking, always wanting to be the next Hawking, but y'know… this is theoretical physics! You can't be set in your ways, your mind has to always be expanding! You have to always keep your mind open!"

Jeongguk nods, immediately entranced by the man's words and yet confused on what else there is to say.

"I did end up coming across the mandatory papers Albastone made you all right during your first term. And I remembered your name almost immediately because your paper got me thinking. The words you wrote, the theories of why sand is so fluid, why certain elements transform into sound, already known structures and yet sand is a mass unlike others, got me thinking. And to be quite honest, I like that. I like your outlook and your ability to question even the most simple of things. It takes an expansive mind to do so."

Widening his eyes, the father of your child smiles. This professor is complimenting him when he himself proved that quantum geometry is sound and concrete.

"Oh," Guk breathes airily, "Wow! Thank you so much."

Haleford gives him a small smile, nodding to himself almost as if he's determining something right then and there.

"I look forward to working and learning with you, Jeongguk."

"Yes! Me as well, Professor! Thank you!"

They shake hands, Guk's being maybe just the slightest bit too sweaty and over excited but his face is beaming with a large smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow, maybe sure you bring that brain with you. Hmm?" Haleford grins, grabbing his briefcase.

Your fiance nods enthusiastically, reaching for the strap of his shoulder bag and looking around the lecture hall once more.

As the door slams shut and as he sighs brightly, his phone begins to ring. The vibrating in his pocket is endless and he raises an eyebrow. You're probably on your way home from work by now. Hopefully you're alright.

When he pulls out his cell, At Your Service is easily readable and he simply blinks at it. Maybe Jimin or Taehyung are calling to ask him how his first class of the year went?

"Hello?" he answers, making his way out of the room.

"Big dog!"

Guk tilts his head confused, eyebrows pinching at the voice.

"Hey Tony? How can I help you?"

Why on Earth would Tony be calling him?

"Hey dude! I just have a quick question for you, if that's cool. I know you're all shacked up with your pregnant mama bear and what not."

Guk immediately cringes at his words, face scrunching up like he has just smelt the worst shit of all time.

"Uh," he breathes awkwardly, "Yeah, sure. What do you want -- What do you need? Sorry."

The laugh his former boss and college mate gives signifies he has absolutely no idea what kind of person he is and in a way Jeongguk finds that hilarious.

Rolling his eyes, he exits the science building.

"So, you know that we do questionnaires and wait lists to become a client for At Your Service, right?"

"Yeah, sure. That's why we were always so reputable," Guk agrees, heading to his car.

"Right! Exactly! Oh man! I fuckin' miss you, dude… Anyway, a lot of the time, rich cronies will often add in a reference client that they know to help quicken the process. As you know, Applehyme only got in as fast as she did because she had Ada Steinberg's reference."

Your fiance nods, placing the phone between his shoulder and ear to dig through his bag to find his car keys. "Uh huh."

"So I was going through the applications this morning and I found one that has your name as a reference!"

Guk immediately stops moving, blinking at Tony's words curiously. "What?!"

"I know, right?! I was like, 'Damn, I'm never gonna get away from this handsome kid!' So that's why I'm calling, for your reference."

"Hold on," Guk breathes, opening up the driver's side door and throwing his shoulder bag onto the seat beside him. He puts the phone on speaker and leans back into his seat, folding his arms.

Who the fuck would use him as a reference? He doesn't even know anybody!

"Okay. Sorry, I was getting in my car."

"Niiiiice, big dog! What're you driving these days?"

Oh God, please… not small talk with Tony. Anything but this.

"A Ferrari F60 America," he mumbles, turning on the engine.

"Oh damn! Pregnant mama bear has some coin! You lucky son of a bitch!"

"I am lucky, yes… Who was the person who put me down as a reference?" Guk asks, taking a sip of his water.

"Oh! Right! Some kid named Jasper… Hyde?"

The words make the water come flying out of his mouth at high speed and he coughs loudly, throwing his head back.

"It's weird too. The guy works for Albion Motors, it's not like he's a businessman or anything. He has no assets and nothing to get in but your name."

Your fiance still continues to cough, wiping at his dashboard with a weak hand.

"O-Oh my God!" he croaks out, lowering his window for fresh air.

"So… Should I process his form?"

Guk takes in a large breath of air before settling. "I gotta tell Y/-- Hold off, I have to speak to someone about it first. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Yeah, no problem, dude. It's not like I'm going anywhere. And neither is he."

"Great! I gotta get on the road, Tony. I'll call you back."

"No problem, big dog. We'll talk tomorrow. Take it easy. Say hi to the pregnant mama bear for me."

When the line goes dead, Jeongguk starts to voraciously laugh aloud, eyes practically watering as he replays the conversation in his mind.

"I gotta get home," he chuckles, putting on his seatbelt.

As soon as your fiance opens up the front door to the mansion, Hawking is there to greet him with big paws and an open excited mouth.

"Hey, buddy!" he hisses softly, the sound getting swallowed by the opera music in the background.

The scent of chicken and spices sings through the air, alerting him of your cooking and he simply smiles at the thought.

Pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen, probably burning something.

He sets down his shoulder bag on the entryway table and sets out towards the kitchen with his Great Dane in tow.

When he sees you, leaning over the pot curiously with your face practically shoved into the hot metal, he smirks. Leaning against the wall, he folds his arms to take in this moment.

You have your hand wrapped protectively over your seven month bump and you're in a black one shoulder dress that screams expensive.

Goddamn. He's lucky as fuck.

"Hey beautiful," he calls out, hoping not to scare you.

You still screech, grabbing the metal spoon beside you as a weapon and he simply snorts at the sight.

"Very menacing," he teases, striding over and planting a gentle kiss to your lips.

You giggle softly, setting down the spoon and leaning back against the counter so he can rub your belly like always.

"How's my boy?" he inquires, looking down into the large pot. "Jesus Christ, what the hell are you trying to make? A bomb?"

You guffaw, folding your arms. "Chicken Cacciatore. Your son would probably like it."

"Doubt it," he murmurs, pulling the pot off the flame and into the sink, "I told you I was going to cook for you when I got home."

"Well, I wanted to surprise you on your first day of classes!"

"That's very sweet of you, baby. And I appreciate the gesture but let me take care of things like this. You worry about my boy. Go sit down, your ankles must be swollen," he orders, kissing your temple and grabbing a side towel to sling over his shoulder.

"Fine," you grumble, making your way around the open marble kitchen to sit at the bar in front of him.

Guk opens the fridge, expertly grabbing ingredients without hesitation.

"How was your first day?" you inquire happily, rubbing your belly in soothing motions.

Once Guk grabs the sharp kitchen knife, he widens his eyes and slams it down. "You're never gonna believe what happened!"

You tilt your head curiously, leaning forward on your elbows already enthralled by his words. "Tell me, tell me!"

"Well, one, I'm brilliant. So Professor Haleford immediately recognized it. He read one of my previous reports on why sand flows through objects like water. He said I have a very expansive mind."

You remember his excitement all those months ago before you got together. You can remember how inquisitive and bright he looked, so you simply nod. "You are brilliant."

He leans across the bar to sweetly boop your nose before going back to his story.

"Then… When I was leaving… I got a call," he hisses, grabbing one of the onions and slamming it down onto the cutting board.

You're hanging onto his every word, the pauses for dramatic effect making you lean closer and closer.

"From who?!" you gasp, putting your fist beneath your chin.

"Tony," he breathes, widening his eyes.

"That asshole from the escort agency?" you ask, tilting your head.

"Yes! The asshole from the agency… he said hi, by the way," he replies, grabbing the knife.

"Hello, asshole," you murmur, leaning closer, "What did he want?"

"At the agency, people need to have applications to become a member. And most of the clients that get in have references from other people. Like your application had Namjoon as a reference, remember?"

You nod once more, back into the enthralling mood like a fly to shit.

"So Tony calls me and tells me that I'm somebody's reference on their application!"

"What?!" you hiss, seeming confused.

"I know! I felt the same way! I was like who the fuck is using me as a reference?! I don't even know anybody!"

When he suddenly slams down the knife again, you widen your eyes curiously.

"Guess who it fucking was," he hisses, looking up at you.

"Uhhh," you breathe, looking around the kitchen and trying to pull a guess out of your ass in hope that you're right.

Guk simply smiles, watching how badly you want to get this right but he knows that it's a long shot for you to guess this. You don't even think about him anymore.

"I-I don't know," you reply sullenly.

"Do you wanna know? Do you want me to tell you?" Guk chuckles, cursing his hand over your cheek.

"Yes! Tell me! I'm literally dying to know!" you whine, stomping your feet against the bottom of the bar stool.

"You're never gonna believe it," he guffaws, waiting an extra moment for dramatic value, "Jasper Hyde."

"WHAT?!" you yell, widening your eyes.

"Mhm," he replies sassily, grabbing the knife again.

"Oh my God, why would he want that? Adi is whore. She'd let him piss on her chest if that's what he wanted."

Your fiance breaks out into a loud laugh, steadying himself on the marble countertop.

"So what did you say?"

"Nothing," he breathes, chopping up the onion.

"Why not?!" you inquire, now placing both closed fists beneath your chin.

"Because, one, I wanted to tell you first. And, two, I am going over the choice."

"There are choices?" you ask, watching his majestic knife work.

"Oh yeah. I'm still not over what he said about you at his wedding. It's like one of those things that I think about right before I go to sleep at night. I always think, 'Damn, I should have punched him in the fucking mouth for even talking about you like that.' Rumination is a pain in my fucking ass sometimes. So I'm thinking about telling Tony to let Jasper in."

You hum in agreement, watching him scrape the onion into a new pot.

"The first escorting gig a client goes to gets photographed, y'know. It didn't happen to us because you ended up not being my client. But someone follows you on your first 'date' as a precaution so that the escort is safe. So if I could get pictures of Jasper and whichever escort he chooses. That'd be premium content right there."

"Diabolical," you chirp, earning his eyes on you.

The wicked smile he gives you makes you snort and you simply lay your head down on the cool marble beneath you.

"Man, I really turned you inside out. That's some shit I would do," you announce with a laugh.

"First I think I'll have Tony call him for an interview. I wanna know what's going on in their little sad marriage."

"Man, we are so fucking nosy," you hiss, looking at your nails.

Jeongguk simply shrugs, grabbing a bell pepper. "It's called research, baby. I'm a college student again. I have to do my due diligence and see my expansive mind's theories to the very best of my ability."

You simply laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculousness.

But then again, you're incredibly curious yourself.

#bts #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #at your service #ays #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk smut

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ltash · 3 months

Text

Forever

Ep-7 "The Valkyrie" SimonGhostRileyxFemaleReader

"I am a Valkyrie. And I will take the dead to the feast."

**Kabul, Afghanistan.

5 years Later:**

Special forces had been deployed to Kabul to restore order. Special Agent Activities Andrea Shepherd sat in a helicopter, her eyes scanning the barren landscape below.

"How long until we land?" Andrea asked the helicopter pilot over the roar of the engine.

"Just about an hour, ma'am. We're reaching the hills now," the pilot replied, his voice steady.

"Hmm," Andrea mumbled, gazing down at the sparse, rugged terrain.

The hour passed slowly, but eventually, the helicopter descended, touching down on the roof of a building. Andrea was the first to step out, her boots hitting the ground with purpose. A soldier approached and guided her to a corridor where her superior awaited.

Laswell, a white, middle-aged woman with short hair, stood with an air of authority. Andrea snapped to attention and saluted. "Agent Andrea Shepherd, at your service, ma'am," she announced.

"Andrea!" Laswell's voice was warm but firm as she shook Andrea's hand. "You're our most trusted agent. That's why you're here. Al Qaeda has become a significant threat. I know you won't hesitate to take action if needed."

"Thank you, ma'am. I won't disappoint you. I promise," Andrea replied, determination gleaming in her eyes.

Laswell nodded approvingly. "Good. Let me show you your room, Shepherd. Follow me."

As they walked through the narrow corridors, Andrea glanced at her watch. It was 4 p.m. The base was a hive of activity, soldiers moving with a sense of urgency and purpose.

"How's the situation on the ground?" Andrea asked, breaking the silence.

"Tense," Laswell admitted. "The locals are on edge, and the insurgents are getting bolder. We need someone with your skills to tip the balance."

"I'll do whatever it takes," Andrea assured her.

They reached a modest room, sparsely furnished but functional. "This will be your quarters," Laswell said, opening the door. "Settle in. Briefing is at 0600 hours."

Andrea nodded. "Understood, ma'am."

Laswell placed a reassuring hand on Andrea's shoulder. "We're counting on you, Shepherd. Welcome to Kabul."

"Thank you, ma'am," Andrea said, stepping into her new room. She set her bag down, the weight of her mission settling over her. There was no time to waste. She had work to do.

"It's your room. Inform James if you need anything," Laswell said, pointing toward a young soldier standing nearby.

"Okay, ma'am. Thank you," Andrea replied. She headed into her quarters, took off her coat, and tossed it onto the couch. Moving to the window, she looked out over the city, a mix of large and small buildings sprawled before her. The reflection of the narrow, muddy roads and bustling market filled her blue eyes.

The city was small, its bazaar filled with people scattered about, creating a lively, if chaotic, scene. Andrea took a moment to absorb the view, letting the reality of her new surroundings sink in.

Later, as she entered the briefing room, she noticed a group of Special Air Service soldiers. Laswell introduced them with a firm, confident voice.

As Andrea entered the briefing room, her eyes scanned the gathering of Special Air Service soldiers before her. A mix of anticipation and uncertainty washed over her. Each soldier embodied the raw intensity and determination that defined the elite unit. These were men who had seen the worst the world could offer, and yet continued to fight on, their spirits unbreakable.

Laswell stepped forward, clearing her throat to get their attention. "Everyone, this is Andrea Shepherd, our CIA field agent. She'll be joining you for this mission."

Captain Price, a seasoned veteran with a steely gaze, stepped up and extended his hand. "Captain John Price. Welcome to the team, Andrea."

She shook his hand firmly. "Thank you, Captain. It's an honor."

Beside him, a younger soldier with a focused demeanor nodded in greeting. "Sergeant Kyle Garrick. It's good to have you with us."

Andrea nodded back. "Likewise, Sergeant."

Laswell continued, "This mission is critical. We have intelligence on a Taliban compound where women and young girls are being held captive. Our objective is to infiltrate, secure the hostages, and extract them safely. Andrea will breach the security code and enter with the women, disguised in an abaya."

Price's face hardened with determination. "Consider it done."

Andrea appreciated the confidence in his voice. "I'll make sure the security systems are down before we go in. We won't have much time once we're inside."

Laswell handed out the mission details. "You'll need to be fast and precise. We don't know how many hostiles are in the building, so be prepared for anything."

Price looked at his team, then back at Andrea. "We move out in ten. Gear up."

The soldiers quickly gathered their equipment, checking weapons and ammo. Andrea followed suit, ensuring her M14 rifle was ready and her combat knives were in place. The weight of the mission pressed on her, but she channeled it into focus.

As they boarded the helicopter, the rotors cutting through the air, Andrea felt a sense of unity with the team. These men were her brothers in arms for the duration of the mission, and they all shared a common goal.

The flight to the target was tense but silent. Each soldier was lost in their thoughts, preparing for what lay ahead. When the pilot announced they were approaching the drop zone, Andrea tightened her grip on the rope.

Descending onto the roof, the team moved with practiced precision. Andrea's heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her breathing steady. They kicked the door open and stormed into the building, Price leading the charge.

Inside, the chaos erupted. Gunfire echoed through the corridors as they engaged the militants. Andrea moved swiftly, her training kicking in as she neutralized threats with deadly accuracy.

Inside, one of the women wearing an abaya had gone to the bathroom. It was Andrea. There, she unbuttoned her long black abaya and removed her veil, revealing a black T-shirt and jeans underneath. She was armed with combat knives and an M14 rifle. Her mission was to rescue the captive women from the Taliban.

Silently opening the bathroom door, she emerged, ready for battle. As a trusted CIA agent, she was a lethal fighter who never hesitated to kill, yet she carried a deep sense of justice, especially for the women held captive and abused.

She began shooting the Taliban soldiers, aiming for their heads and chests. The women screamed and ran in panic, trying to avoid the bullets. This chaos was happening on the first floor of the building.

Captain Price and Garrick methodically cleared each floor, breaking down doors and neutralizing militants. As they reached the second floor, Price saw Andrea running down from above.

"Get them out of here," he shouted to one of his men, hearing gunshots from below.

"Who's down there?" he demanded.

"I don't know, sir," a team member replied.

"Let me see for myself," Price said, descending the stairs. He was shocked to find Andrea in the lounge on the ground floor, fighting the militants with incredible skill and agility.

"Holy shit," he muttered, awestruck. He had never seen a woman fight with such precision and ferocity. She moved like a seasoned warrior, dispatching the militants effortlessly.

Price took cover behind a marble statue, watching her in awe. Despite his admiration, he knew he needed to assist her. As he stepped out to shoot, his rifle jammed.

"Shit!" he cursed, expecting to be gunned down. In a flash, Andrea grabbed a sword from a fallen militant and hurled it toward an attacker. The sword pierced the militant's chest, killing him instantly. She used his body as a shield and shot another militant, eliminating both threats.

With the area clear, she stood with her back to Price, breathing heavily. Price emerged from his cover, stunned by her prowess.

"That was impressive," he said, his voice filled with respect.

Andrea turned to him, her expression unreadable. "We need to get those women out of here. Now."

Price nodded, signaling his team to proceed. Together, they escorted the rescued women to safety, ensuring no one was left behind. The mission was a success, but for Price, the real revelation was Andrea's extraordinary capabilities.

Back at the base, as the sun rose over Kabul, Andrea felt a sense of accomplishment. The war was far from over, but in that moment, they had made a difference. And for Andrea, that was enough to keep fighting.

Laswell stood in the small, windowless room, her attention focused on a series of screens in front of her. Each screen displayed a different camera angle, offering unique views of the mission unfolding before her eyes. The hum of electronic equipment filled the cramped space, punctuated by the occasional static crackle or murmured radio conversation.

Her eyes flicked from one screen to another, absorbing the details: the movement of soldiers, the flash of gunfire, the chaotic dance of a mission in full swing. Each screen told a part of the story, and she stitched them together in her mind, forming a comprehensive picture of the operation.

"Agent Shepherd is in position," a voice crackled over the radio.

Laswell leaned closer to the screens, her eyes narrowing as she watched Andrea move with practiced ease, dispatching enemy combatants with lethal precision.

"Good," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else in the room. "Let's get those women out of there."

On another screen, she saw Captain Price and his team advancing, methodically clearing each floor. Price's voice came through the radio next.

"Laswell, we've got heavy resistance on the second floor. Shepherd's engaging the hostiles on the ground level."

Laswell's jaw tightened. "Understood, Price. Maintain your position. Shepherd, do you copy?"

Andrea's voice came through, steady and controlled. "Copy, Laswell. Engaging hostiles and securing the captives."

Laswell watched as Andrea moved through the building, a blur of motion and efficiency. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her face remained impassive, her focus unyielding. Every second counted, and she knew the stakes were high.

"Price, Shepherd, proceed with extraction," she commanded, her voice cutting through the static. "Let's get them out safely."

The room fell silent save for the soft, constant hum of the equipment. Laswell's eyes remained glued to the screens, her mind racing with a thousand possibilities, each one more dire than the last. But she trusted her team. She trusted Andrea.

The mission was far from over, but in that small, windowless room, Laswell held on to hope, her belief in her team unwavering. They would succeed. They had to.

As the team returned to base, Andrea felt a surge of satisfaction. The mission had been dangerous, but they had succeeded. She had proven herself once again, not just to the CIA, but to her team.

Price approached her as they disembarked from the helicopter. "Andrea, I've worked with many soldiers in my time, but you... you're something else."

Andrea smiled slightly, a hint of pride in her eyes. "Thank you, Captain. Just doing my job."

Price nodded, respecting her humility. "Let's debrief and get some rest. We've earned it."

As they walked away, the sun began to rise over Kabul, casting a new light on the city and their mission. The war was far from over, but in that moment, they had won a significant victory.

The debriefing was a long and arduous process, but necessary for them to discuss the mission's successes, failures, and ways to improve their tactics for future operations. The team gathered in a small conference room, their eyes heavy with exhaustion, but their minds still focused. Captain Price stood at the front, while Laswell sat beside him, her gaze moving across the room as she listened to the different reports and observations.

Price cleared his throat, commanding the room's attention. "Alright, let's start with a rundown of the mission. Shepherd, you first."

Andrea leaned forward, her expression serious. "We breached the building as planned. Encountered heavier resistance than anticipated on the first floor. Managed to neutralize hostiles and secure the captives."

Laswell nodded, making a note. "Good work, Shepherd. What about the security breach? Any issues?"

"No issues," Andrea replied. "The code was simpler than expected. We were able to move quickly."

Price turned to his team. "Garrick, your report?"

Garrick rubbed his eyes, fighting off fatigue. "Second floor was a nightmare. More militants than intel suggested. We cleared it, but it took longer than planned."

Laswell interjected. "Do we know why there was an increase in numbers?"

Garrick shook his head. "Not yet. Could have been a recent regrouping or reinforcements we weren't aware of."

Price nodded. "We'll need better intel next time. Any injuries?"

"Minor ones," Garrick replied. "Nothing that would compromise future operations."

Laswell leaned back, absorbing the information. "We need to review our intel sources and ensure this doesn't happen again. What about the extraction? Any issues there?"

"Smooth," Price said. "Once we had the captives, we faced minimal resistance on the way out. The helicopter extraction was on point."

Andrea spoke up again. "The women were in poor condition, but they responded well to our presence. They're safe now."

Laswell made another note. "Good. We'll arrange for their care and debrief them separately."

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed the debrief. Price broke the silence. "Any suggestions for improvement?"

Andrea glanced around the room. "We need better intel, as Garrick mentioned. And perhaps more support on the ground for unexpected increases in enemy numbers."

"Agreed," Price said. "We'll adjust our protocols accordingly. Anything else?"

The team shook their heads, too tired to think of more at the moment.

"Alright, get some rest," Laswell concluded. "We'll reconvene tomorrow to finalize our report and prepare for the next mission. Good work, everyone."

As the team began to disperse, Andrea caught Price's eye. He gave her a nod of respect, which she returned. Despite the exhaustion and the lingering adrenaline, there was a sense of accomplishment in the room.

Andrea sat in the dimly lit conference room, the quiet hum of the ventilation system the only sound breaking the silence. The mission had been intense, the rush of adrenaline now slowly ebbing away, leaving her with a sense of weariness that seemed to sink into her bones. As she replayed the events of the night in her mind, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her responsibilities as a part of her job.

Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when Captain Price's voice broke through the stillness, clearing his throat to get her attention. Andrea looked up, her senses sharpening as she focused on him.

"Andrea! Can I have a moment?" Captain Price's voice was calm yet firm, the kind of voice that demanded attention in any situation.

"Yes, of course, sir," Andrea replied, straightening up in her chair. She was always respectful of Captain Price, admiring his leadership and experience.

"Please, have a seat," he gestured to the chair opposite him at the conference table. Andrea complied, her mind racing with thoughts about what he could possibly want to discuss.

"Why don't you join the task force with us, Andrea?" Captain Price's question hung in the air, his tone serious yet inviting. "Your father, General Shepherd, has founded Task Force 141—a team comprised of the best of the best. Judging by your skills back there, I'm amazed. You did a fantastic job. We could put your skills to good use."

Andrea's heart skipped a beat at the proposition. Task Force 141 was legendary in military circles, a covert unit known for taking on the toughest missions with unmatched precision. The idea of joining such a team was both thrilling and daunting.

"Thank you, Captain Price," Andrea responded, her voice steady despite the excitement bubbling within her. "I'll talk to my dad about this."

Captain Price nodded, a hint of approval in his expression. Andrea couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at his words. She knew that whatever decision she made, it would mark a significant turning point in her career—and possibly her life.

As she left the conference room, Andrea's mind raced with possibilities. Joining Task Force 141 would mean stepping into a world of secrecy, danger, and unparalleled skill. It was a challenge she was ready to face, knowing that her father's legacy and her own abilities would guide her through whatever lay ahead.

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