#I just want everyone who wants to read them to have access to them

[twiniverse]

Just to give it its own post, because it's important enough to warrant it:

I'm not "the person choosing the give the finger to people who need accessibility tools". I have not once said that people can't write ids on my posts. I didn't say I wouldn't look into having someone else do it. I said that I can't do it, that it is not my job, and that a certain someone's attitude is foul and that makes people less likely to want to do what they say.

I also have not thrown a little hissy fit because someone isn't doing what I want. I haven't literally told anyone that I wouldn't leave them alone until they did what I wanted them to do. I haven't used several different accounts and ips to evade being blocked in order to angrily yell about how superior I am to everyone else in the fandom, or to belittle anyone. I haven't gone to the side account of someone who has blocked me to continue my tantrum there.

I don't have a problem with accessibility, or with people who volunteer their time to give access to more people. Believe it or not, accessibility is something I'm highly dedicated to and something I am often finding new ways to implement in my actual job. My team is implementing on-site image blockers on the user side so they don't have to see things that upset them. We're making sure our on-site games aren't going to be triggering people's vertigo. We're making sure there are colour themes so that no one has to choose between blinding white light or blinding white letters, but the people who do like those options will have them, too! We're implementing high contrast mode! Our head coder is blind, in fact. We'll be working with her quite a bit to make the site- which is visual based- still accessible for those with screen readers and other aids. She has a braille display, isn't that cool? I didn't even know those were a thing until she told me.

My problem is specifically with the person who has not only harassed me, but other people in the fandom. My problem is specifically with the person who outright admitted that their reaction to being told "no" is to become aggressive and condescending. My problem is specifically with the person who thinks they're the only person who gives a damn. My problem is with the person who says that they don't have to do it, that they're volunteering their time because they care, but also says it's their job and we need to let them do it. My problem is with the person who speaks on behalf of others who do not want to be spoken for. My problem is specifically with the person who told me that they would continue harassing me unless I met their demands. My problem is specifically with the person who will read a fraction of what I actually said here and will respond with how horrible of a human I am because I focus on accessibility with my actual job and not my fancomic that I barely have the energy to work on in the first place.

My problem is specifically with the person who read everything I said and instead of recognising and accepting that they're the only one I have a problem with decided to start attacking me and accusing me of being ableist because they, and no one else, have pissed me off.

As I said to begin with, I blocked them because of their attitude and the way they harass people. The way they've harassed my friends, the way they've harassed people I don't like, the way they've harassed newbies, etc, etc. It had nothing to do with IDs, and it still doesn't. I blocked a shitty person, and that person made an assumption and is throwing a hissy fit about it. That's all there is to it. The bottom line is that genuinely anyone can add id's to my posts except for that specific person because I don't want that specific person interacting with me.

This next bit is for you, that specific person: "-but you blocked me after writing a single image description for your posts, for some stupid reason." It was not a stupid reason. And like I said in my response, it had nothing to do with you writing an image description for my post. It's because you're a foul, slimy little cockroach with a superiority complex. You think you're the hero but you're the villain here.

So, again, as disrespectfully as possible: Fuck. Off.

[zenerrocksmc]

(I’m also working on potentially uploading all of them unlisted and with the chapters set up, just shoot me a message for the link)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another day another "applying the concept 'disposability' to 'someone withdraws from a personal relationship, & that wasn't signed off on by the other'" kill me

[last-flight-of-fancy]

coping with hallima being stuck in siren-related-queue-line-hell by finally starting my second msq run in a quieter server

her name is Kaze :)

[nomairuins]

read asoue to weeman as a bedtime story he liked it YAYYYY

[troublcmakcrs]

//thinks about the rpc's different accessibility needs and how we are all so cute and interesting 😊

[thetreetopinn]

Sources for Somerton's Plagiarism from Hbomberguy's Video (as much as I could get)

I went back through Harry's video, focused entirely on the sources James Somerton pulled from in the hopes of creating as much of a comprehensive list as I could--though my Google-Fu is not very strong. I did however find something I thought was forever lost and that made me very happy--specifically the magazine Midlands Zone containing the column by Steven Spinks that Harry poignantly used as an illustration of gay erasure... while Somerton uses it to sound like HE is waxing remorseful about the very subject.

This is not a complete list, I'm sure. For one thing, I was only able to attempt to pull sources that Harry himself mentioned in the video. Surely there's so very much more out there. I expect there to be a great deal more internet archeology to unearth just how much writing and culture Somerton has stolen like he's the British Museum of Natural History but for gay people.

- - - - -

Harry's list of mentioned youtubers:

Alexander Avila - https://www.youtube.com/@alexander_avila Matt Baume - https://www.youtube.com/@MattBaume Khadija Mbowe - https://www.youtube.com/@KhadijaMbowe Lady Emily - https://www.youtube.com/@LadyEmilyPresents Shanspeare - https://www.youtube.com/@Shanspeare RickiHirsch - https://www.youtube.com/@RickiHirsch VerilyBitchie - https://www.youtube.com/@verilybitchie

Harry created a convenient playlist of videos by these and other people he wants to bring to everyone's attention.

Please give them your support.

- - - - -

Midlands Zone Magazine - Column by Steven Spinks

After a great deal of searching, I found an archive of the "Midlands Zone" magazine, where you can read through past issues dating all the way back to February 2014. I have also found the issue from which Somerton took Spinks' poignant discussion of gay erasure: Overall archive Specific Issue - Pages 16-17

It will not allow you to download it, but you can read it exactly as it appeared in print form.

- - - - -

My best effort to find the exact book or article Somerton lifted from to be able to get attention to the original writers

Tinker Bells and Evil Queens By Sean Griffin

The Celluloid Closet By Vito Russo Wikipedia article about the book Wikipedia article about the documentary My weak google-fu could not find where you can access the book or documentary. Check your local municipal or university library for book or documentary, or if you know a good source for one or both, please reblog with it added

Camp and the Gay Sensibility By Jack Babuscio

The Groundbreaking Queerness of Disney's Mulan By Jes Tom Personal site with links to social media accounts

Why Rebel Without a Cause was a milestone for gay rights By Peter Howell

Why "The Craft" is still the best Halloween coming out movie By Andrew Park

Opinion: From facehuggers to phallic tails, is 'Alien' one of the queerest films ever? By Dani Leever

Women and Queerness in Horror: Jennifer's Body By Zoe Fortier

[Pride 2019] We Have Such Sights to Show You: Hellraiser and the Spectrum of Queerness By Alejandra Gonzalez

Revealing the Hellbound Heart of Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser' By Colin Arason

Queering James Cameron's Aliens (1986) By Bart Bishop

Demeter and Persephone in space: transformation, femininity, and myth in the 'Alien' films By David Greven

Fears of a millennial masculinity: Scream's queer killers By David Greven (Scholarly site, unable to access original work, offers a way to request a full copy of the text in PDF)

Queer Subtext in Stephen King's It - Part 1: 'Reddie' Character Analysis By Rachel Brands Rachel is the very unfortunate lady who found out she was being stolen from because she supported Somerton through Patreon and saw one of his videos early with her writing--lacking any form of citation or credit

How 'It: Chapter Two' Leaves Richie Tozier Behind By Joelle Monique

When Horror Becomes Strength: Queer Armor in Stephen King's 'IT' By Alex London

Why Queer People Love Witchcraft By Amanda Kohr

'The Favourite' Queers The Past And The Present By Giorgi Plys-Garzotto

(Wuko) Crush (Mako x Wu) By MoonFlower on YouTube

5 Terrible Movies With Awesome Hidden Meanings By J.F. Sargent

The Radicalization of Sexuality: The Queer Casae of Jeffrey Dahmer By Ian Barnard

Netflix's 'Dahmer' backlash highlights ethical issues in the platform's obsession with true crime By Shivani Dubey

The Possible Disturbing Dissonance Between Hajime Isayama's Beliefs and Attack on Titan's Themes Original Article by "Seldom Musings" (Author has made all posts not related to Attack On Titan private and has retired from the blog)

Everyone Loves Attack on Titan. So Why Does Everyone Hate Attack on Titan? By Gita Jackson

- - - - -

The following people are otherwise named in the video. There are no direct citations of articles or books by them in said video. I am unable to guarantee that I have identified the correct individual.

Darren Elliott-Smith Michaela Barton David Church Claire Sisco King Amanda Howell Jessica Roy

- - - - -

Telos announced and cancelled a film likely based on this book: The Final Girl Support Group - By Grady Hendrix

- - - - -

I refrained from including certain sources.

First off only focusing on Somerton's work.

Secondly not including anything that might be visible enough to not require amplifying their voice (I cannot speak for all of those I have found links to, but journalism is frequently a thankless job).

Thirdly any source that is of a nature that is antithetical to the very existence of the queer community, such as the right-leaning source that didn't make it into Somerton's video, but Harry was able to identify as a source he had considered using.

If you feel I have missed a mentioned source--or you know of a source from material that was not covered in Harry's video--please do not hesitate to reblog with added details.

- - - - -

Please share this information far and wide, and please add to it if you find more material that can be positively identified and linked to the creator/writer.

[birdantlers]

A heartfelt and grievously expanded-upon update to this—please, please read the whole thing if you can. reblogs much appreciated.

(DISCLAIMER, for all who are saying reasons like abusive parents/legal stuff/toxic ex/triggering memories/page got deleted/job/stalkers/bullying/[[insert any other shitty life thing]], This is not concerning that—personal safety & health ALWAYS comes first, and is worth more than any media ever could be. This is my biggest reason for defending that autonomy. I would be a hypocrite to say I hadn’t deleted triggering posts of mine or ones that got me in trouble with my family.)

it genuinely makes me sad and kinda upset when someone purges all their old art off the internet like. barring harmful content what if someone liked that. What if someone would have. And now nobody will ever know and it's just gone. even people's old invader zim askblogs or whatever getting deleted feels like a micro alexandria to me and that's just something I made up. I wasn't even thinking of a specific one it just stresses me out. Is this the autism I don't get why nobody else seems to freak internally abt it like I do. I see artists whose blogs I've never even looked at go like "man so glad I deleted all my old stuff it's so clean" or saying they throw out art from when they were kids I'm like. how are you not hurling. How is that not distressing that is literally your tree rings why would you do that. I want to see what's out there. people want to see it I promise someone out there likes it

...don't they??? Does everyone get quietly irrationally upset by this as me, or is this just hyperfixation/autism/some amalgam of the two. I'm not a hoarder or obsessive compulsive or anything like that so i wonder..

Anyways. reblog if you had a favorite amateur youtube animator in your childhood whose channel got nuked without a trace one day that you still think about.

I wanted to attach this video because it condenses my point very well. A TLDR of sorts. Please watch the whole thing, it genuinely changed the entire way I think about art as a concept.

(2nd vid is "Subjectivity in Art")

“The moment your art touches an audience, the ownership shifts in an irreversible way. [They're] not having an art experience with you and your intentions. They're having an art experience with the art object.

“You can't just burn your past; it's not even your past to burn anymore. It's other people's history as well. Whether or not you like it, that art is already bonded to somebody's soul, and if you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it.”

The digital age makes it very easy to distance or detach yourself from the impact your work has—be it art, fanfic, videos, even memes. Online content is as important to people now as any other media, if not more. But it's also by far the easiest, fastest, and most effective form of it to erase from public access. Media so unbelievably important to people and in general. Yes, you—with the 2010s purple sparkle dog speedpaint. I still think about that speedpaint all the time, because it was the first time i learned that you could draw on a computer, and I thought it was cool as hell. I still do.

I do wish there was a stronger culture of preservation and consideration for this, because every time I see people talk about snuffing their stuff because it doesn't personally resonate with them anymore, I just think ...what about all the people it did?

I've seen lots of people saying "get over it, it doesn't even matter," but it fucking does. It does matter. Even if I didn’t make it, even if I don’t have to deal with being the one who made it, even if I'm naturally inclined to be distressed by it—It still matters. And there’s nothing you could ever say to suddenly make it not matter, because there’s nothing you could ever say to make it not matter to me.

Don't devalue the act of creation. Don't dismiss something you made. It's out there, in people's thoughts and hearts and souls, and that is real. Even if you don't know it. Especially if you don't know it. Especially in a world where physical media is being snuffed out, the internet is constantly dying without any physical remains to recover, social isolation is rampant, and simply because independently produced content online is still media.

Fanfiction can hold equal or greater significance to someone as a book, but you can’t unpublish a book. Authors don’t have a button that can vaporize every copy of their work across all time, but fanfiction authors do. I’m not counting people who download fics either—when you buy a book, that transaction is over. But online, you have the power of unending transaction that can be terminated instantly at your will. The process of publishing fanfic vs. publishing a book may be different, but people’s connection to the art is the same intensity.

So yeah. I do get depressed about the Internet being a constant Alexandria, but the times I get the most depressed is when I click someone's page and see that all their work is gone because they're ‘curating a new aesthetic’ for their page or some shit. Or weeding out all the "ugly" art. Or just went on whatever the hell 'thrill deleting' is, because they just get a kick out of it.

Fuck it—yeah! It upsets me! I’m not wrong to say that. I’m saying it!

Under the cut, because it got long as shit! Also don’t worry the ending is way sappier and more ‘beauty of human nature’ vibe so it’s not all doom and gloom lol

What if that was someone's favorite art of that character. What if someone read that 'cringe oneshot' on the worst day of their life. What if that Warriors meme vid is still burned into a college student’s mind despite being gone for 10 years. What if it's actually not just you and the ones and zeros you rent out to the world—secure in knowing the original will always be on your computer for you to do whatever you want with it.

I really, deeply wish there was more of a general awareness of this, because even though social media can be used like a diary, that’s functionally the opposite of what it is. It’s social media. When you post, it’s no longer in a vacuum, even though you can’t see the real humans that content touches—often deeply.

Media is history. You shouldn’t burn that history just because you personally believe it isn’t worth saving.

Because it’s no longer just your personal opinion. It’s no longer just your personal work. it’s. history. Memory of media is not a suitable replacement for the media itself. If it was, we wouldn’t save anything at all. Nostalgia is an agent of that. The definition of nostalgia is grief for moments of the past that are inaccessible, and the biggest balm for that pain is accessing a physical reminder of those moments. That opinion of yours is no longer personal. It’s weighed against uncountable people across all time that your thing is ALSO personal to. People who would, and will mourn its absence.

How many times have you joined an older fandom only to discover that some of its most popular works are gone? How many times have you routed through random blogs looking for scraps people hopefully reblogged? how many times have you used Wayback machine desperately praying that a fan fiction or a YouTube video will be there? How many times do you look up crunchy old vines or YouTube videos or anime AMV‘s? How many times do you remember old fanfic.net sex that impacted you in middle school, only to shake your head and go ‘probably no point even looking.’

i mourn the absence. No, people can’t and shouldn’t have their agency over what they post revoked, but they should be conscious of that weight. If you’re reading this and getting extremely annoyed, and you’re not in the pink text above,,,, good.

I honestly do hope it gets under your skin. I hope it sits with you. I hope you feel it every time you hit that button, and whether or not you do hit that button—if you hesitate, if you remember this, even spitefully, I’ve done my job. I am howling into the void. And I may not want an answer, but I do want my anguish to be heard and remembered. Because it isn’t me just being melodramatic.

I know I sound that way writing so much, but if my favorite writing YouTuber can drop trow this week and go, "yeah, sorry, all my video essays from less than a year ago that you listen to in the car all the time? I'm "rebranding" my content so i deleted them. besides, my personal views don't really agree align with the analyses i did, or the techniques i taught in them anyway. Sorry if some of the literal tens of thousands of you used them, but I don't want to feel shackled to having youtuber "classics" tied to me”

….then i guess I'm just going to have to sound dramatic! That fucking sucks! Hours of work and knowledge gone! This was a new channel too. It’s very likely there’s no archive of any kind, because who would think someone who worked hard enough to write, record, and edit hour-long videos, would just turn around and nuke it all? I definitely didn’t see it coming, but I did just start a new screenwriting class a few weeks ago, so I’ll tell you at least one person is REALLY missing those fucking videos right now. Because a lot of them were about specifically screenwriting, which I know jack shit about. and that specific person’s pace, editing, and style of breaking down information was the best suited style I found that I could focus on and absorb. There’s no replacement for that. No alternative for his individual perspective. his jokes. his opinions.

No, they may not resonate with him now, but in this decision, he’s put up a big middle finger to everyone who might have. And he has like 100k subscribers! Those are confirmed supporters! Imagine how many silent and untethered observers are feeling this loss right now. Imagine how many will not have it in the future.

If he never posted them at all, we wouldn’t know we had it. It wouldn’t be a loss. But we did. We did have it. Until he decided that no, we didn’t, because he just happens to be the one out of millions of individuals holding the button to burn it in a hundredth of a second.

His personal work, the attachment I had to it, and the ways that it helped me are now just ripped away. I am one person out of millions, literal MILLIONS of people who saw and liked this content before it vanished. The soul has been ripped, the access severed, and by CJ’s (and my) definition, the art is functionally dead. Not for the YouTuber or anyone else lucky enough to save a link or download, but everyone else. From this point until the end of time, even if people even two weeks from now don’t know it. Even if someone who stumbles upon his channel today, doesn’t know it.

We only mourn the concept of Alexandria because we had some kind of scope for what was inside. Yes, maybe you got self-conscious and deleted your 12 year old deviant art account. Do you know who else is doing that?? THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS of other twenty somethings who ALSO feel self-conscious about their old socials. Art. Fanfic. One direction fan videos. anything.

Suddenly, an unquantifiable amount of information from your age group—an entire age group in 2012, is. gone. And we will NEVER know what’s been erased from that history. We will NEVER know what could have been significant to us ten years from now. Twenty years from now. A hundred years. A thousand.

You could have deleted a fanfic that would have been someone else’s new go-to panic attack distraction tomorrow. You could have deleted a video someone used to laugh at with their friend who died yesterday. When you delete something, you risk tearing a hole in unknowable personal histories.

The Internet isn’t just a big library of Alexandria. It’s a library containing libraries. And those libraries have their own libraries in those libraries have their own as well. libraries inside libraries, inside libraries, ad infinitum. To conceive the amount of destroyed history on the Internet is crushing.

And I just can’t help but I ask myself how in gods name people can choose to contribute to that, instead of reposting everything to trash heap alts titled “hall of shame” or some shit.

You can offload to alts. Put up disclaimers. Make password locked blogs, or dropboxes, or anonymous imgur dumps. Anonymous reuploads. Orphan fics. Make a playlist or linktree of unlisted videos. Cut off the watermarks. Delete all references to it on your main. Make a dedicated unlisted playlist. make a google drive. Make new portfolio sites. Delete any questions you get about it. Change pen names. Pretend it never existed.

Give a heads up.

Something.

But don’t. kill. the media.

The knowledge that our stuff is going to forever be tied to us is a cross we have to bear, but the responsibility that comes with putting it out there in the first place, can’t be ignored.

Anyway. I'm not trying to start conflict. This is not a bash on anyone, nor a call for witch hunts. Or anon hate, or blocks and unfollows or anything of that nature. I'm not wishing ramifications or hate of any kind on anyone who does wants to do any of this.

I'm also not guilt tripping— I am not saying that you should feel bad. I AM saying why it makes me feel bad. That’s not guilting, it’s a dialogue. One I personally feel is long overdue.

It's me yelling into the void: please consider the real people on the other side of the screen before you hit that button. Realize and know that whatever you're about to erase from history could be the most important thing in the world to someone.

Art is an experience. It's why we revisit it. If art and history simply lived in the matter and code of media, we would only need to look at it once. We wouldn’t put things in museums. We wouldn’t build libraries. We wouldn’t look up vine compilations.

If you're able, consider (and I do mean consider, this is not a call to action) not destroying that. And don’t shrug it off as some pretentious asshole venting on Tumblr. You only need to look in the notes and tags to see that it isn’t just me. it’s never just me, or you, or the pixels.

And even if you do shrug it off, then at least recognize that what you make matters. Whatever you think about it, if it’s out there, that's not your discretion anymore. If a tree falls in the woods and even one person is around to see it, it fucking mattered. Because it happened. Don’t mulch your tree rings if you don’t have to. Because if enough people do it, a whole forest is gone. Media is history, no matter whether you think it’s worth putting in a museum, or only has 30 notes.

Thousands of years ago, a child named onfim doodled on his homework. They’re crude, and everyone has the wrong amount of fingers, and they’re also priceless archaeological artifacts recognizable throughout the world.

the only thing separating Onfim’s doodles and your MS paint Pokémon doodles is time. The only thing separating your old MS paint Pokémon doodles from being a priceless artifacts, thousands of years in the future is time. Your creations are already priceless artifacts. No matter what you do, don't ever, ever deny that. It isn’t blowing up your own ass, it’s artistic and anthropological fact.

The mundane and the supposedly unworthy are often the first things lost to time, and that’s why they’re so precious. That’s why artists who were before their time are scorned first only to be celebrated later. Do you think they knew that was going to happen?? What if they nuked it? Many probably did! But now that’s happening exponentially and instantaneously everywhere, WITHOUT the artist having to destroy their only copy—which makes it way easier and more dismissable.

Sometimes, If you’re revolutionary enough, people will make an effort to preserve your work, but recognized and thoroughly recorded work is rare compared to unrecognized and thoroughly recorded work.

Sometimes something is beloved enough that it would be impossible for it not to go down in history, but even then it isnt a guarantee, and it’s rare. But if van Gogh burned all of his paintings in a fit of despair before his death, we would have no van Gogh. Because he wasn’t respected as an artist in his time, but that wasn’t what defined the worth of his art. The people after him did, because his art was still there for them.

If you rip the art away, you're ripping a bit of the soul that has adhesive contact to it. If you belittle your art, you belittle the very real relationships and emotions and revisitations people have with the media. You defy the inherent worth and weight of a creation. you created. That's effort. It's passion. No matter how flippant or unskilled or worthless you think it is, it matters. Because at the end of the day, you could have chosen to make nothing at all, and you didn't.

•

Muting notifs

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You should be using an RSS reader

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

No matter how hard we all wish it were otherwise, the sad fact is that there aren't really individual solutions to systemic problems. For example: your personal diligence in recycling will have no meaningful impact on the climate emergency.

I get it. People write to me all the time, they say, "What can I change about my life to fight enshittification, or, at the very least, to reduce the amount of enshittification that I, personally, experience?"

It's frustrating, but my general answer is, "Join a movement. Get involved with a union, with EFF, with the FSF. Tell your Congressional candidate to defend Lina Khan from billionaire Dem donors who want her fired. Do something systemic."

There's very little you can do as a consumer. You're not going to shop your way out of monopoly capitalism. Now that Amazon has destroyed most of the brick-and-mortar and digital stores out of business, boycotting Amazon often just means doing without. The collective action problem of leaving Twitter or Facebook is so insurmountable that you end up stuck there, with a bunch of people you love and rely on, who all love each other, all hate the platform, but can't agree on a day and time to leave or a destination to leave for and so end up stuck there.

I've been experiencing some challenging stuff in my personal life lately and yesterday, I just found myself unable to deal with my usual podcast fare so I tuned into the videos from the very last XOXO, in search of uplifting fare:

https://www.youtube.com/@xoxofest

I found it. Talks by Dan Olson, Cabel Sasser, Ed Yong and many others, especially Molly White:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTaeVVAvk-c

Molly's talk was so, so good, but when I got to her call to action, I found myself pulling a bit of a face:

But the platforms do not exist without the people, and there are a lot more of us than there are of them. The platforms have installed themselves in a position of power, but they are also vulnerable…

Are the platforms really that vulnerable? The collective action problem is so hard, the switching costs are so high – maybe the fact that "there's a lot more of us than there are of them" is a bug, not a feature. The more of us there are, the thornier our collective action problem and the higher the switching costs, after all.

And then I had a realization: the conduit through which I experience Molly's excellent work is totally enshittification-proof, and the more I use it, the easier it is for everyone to be less enshittified.

This conduit is anti-lock-in, it works for nearly the whole internet. It is surveillance-resistant, far more accessible than the web or any mobile app interface. It is my secret super-power.

It's RSS.

RSS (one of those ancient internet acronyms with multiple definitions, including, but not limited to, "Really Simple Syndication") is an invisible, automatic way for internet-connected systems to public "feeds." For example, rather than reloading the Wired homepage every day and trying to figure out which stories are new (their layout makes this very hard to do!), you can just sign up for Wired's RSS feed, and use an RSS reader to monitor the site and preview new stories the moment they're published. Wired pushes about 600 words from each article into that feed, stripped of the usual stuff that makes Wired nearly impossible to read: no 20-second delay subscription pop-up, text in a font and size of your choosing. You can follow Wired's feed without any cookies, and Wired gets no information about which of its stories you read. Wired doesn't even get to know that you're monitoring its feed.

I don't mean to pick on Wired here. This goes for every news source I follow – from CNN to the New York Times. But RSS isn't just good for the news! It's good for everything. Your friends' blogs? Every blogging platform emits an RSS feed by default. You can follow every one of them in your reader.

Not just blogs. Do you follow a bunch of substackers or other newsletters? They've all got RSS feeds. You can read those newsletters without ever registering in the analytics of the platforms that host them. The text shows up in black and white (not the sadistic, 8-point, 80% grey-on-white type these things all default to). It is always delivered, without any risk of your email provider misclassifying an update as spam:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/

Did you know that, by default, your email sends information to mailing list platforms about your reading activity? The platform gets to know if you opened the message, and often how far along you've read in it. On top of that, they get all the private information your browser or app leaks about you, including your location. This is unbelievably gross, and you get to bypass all of it, just by reading in RSS.

Are your friends too pithy for a newsletter, preferring to quip on social media? Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to get an RSS feed from Insta/FB/Twitter, but all those new ones that have popped up? They all have feeds. You can follow any Mastodon account (which means you can follow any Threads account) via RSS. Same for Bluesky. That also goes for older platforms, like Tumblr and Medium. There's RSS for Hacker News, and there's a sub-feed for the comments on every story. You can get RSS feeds for the Fedex, UPS and USPS parcels you're awaiting, too.

Your local politician's website probably has an RSS feed. Ditto your state and national reps. There's an RSS feed for each federal agency (the FCC has a great blog!).

Your RSS reader lets you put all these feeds into folders if you want. You can even create automatic folders, based on keywords, or even things like "infrequently updated sites" (I follow a bunch of people via RSS who only update a couple times per year – cough, Danny O'Brien, cough – and never miss a post).

Your RSS reader doesn't (necessarily) have an algorithm. By default, you'll get everything as it appears, in reverse-chronological order.

Does that remind you of anything? Right: this is how social media used to work, before it was enshittified. You can single-handedly disenshittify your experience of virtually the entire web, just by switching to RSS, traveling back in time to the days when Facebook and Twitter were more interested in showing you the things you asked to see, rather than the ads and boosted content someone else would pay to cram into your eyeballs.

Now, you sign up to so many feeds that you're feeling overwhelmed and you want an algorithm to prioritize posts – or recommend content. Lots of RSS readers have some kind of algorithm and recommendation system (I use News, which offers both, though I don't use them – I like the glorious higgeldy-piggeldy of the undifferentiated firehose feed).

But you control the algorithm, you control the recommendations. And if a new RSS reader pops up with an algorithm you're dying to try, you can export all the feeds you follow with a single click, which will generate an OPML file. Then, with one click, you can import that OPML file into any other RSS reader in existence and all your feeds will be seamlessly migrated there. You can delete your old account, or you can even use different readers for different purposes.

You can access RSS in a browser or in an app on your phone (most RSS readers have an app), and they'll sync up, so a story you mark to read later on your phone will be waiting for you the next time you load up your reader in a browser tab, and you won't see the same stories twice (unless you want to, in which case you can mark them as unread).

RSS basically works like social media should work. Using RSS is a chance to visit a utopian future in which the platforms have no power, and all power is vested in publishers, who get to decide what to publish, and in readers, who have total control over what they read and how, without leaking any personal information through the simple act of reading.

And here's the best part: every time you use RSS, you bring that world closer into being! The collective action problem that the publishers and friends and politicians and businesses you care about is caused by the fact that everyone they want to reach is on a platform, so if they leave the platform, they'll lose that community. But the more people who use RSS to follow them, the less they'll depend on the platform.

Unlike those largely useless, performative boycotts of widely used platforms, switching to RSS doesn't require that you give anything up. Not only does switching to RSS let you continue to follow all the newsletters, webpages and social media accounts you're following now, it makes doing so better: more private, more accessible, and less enshittified.

Switching to RSS lets you experience just the good parts of the enshitternet, but that experience is delivered in manner that the new, good internet we're all dying for.

My own newsletter is delivered in fulltext via RSS. If you're reading this as a Mastodon or Twitter thread, on Tumblr or on Medium, or via email, you can get it by RSS instead:

https://pluralistic.net/feed/

Don't worry about which RSS reader you start with. It literally doesn't matter. Remember, you can switch readers with two clicks and take all the feeds you've subscribed to with you! If you want a recommendation, I have nothing but praise for Newsblur, which I've been paying $2/month for since 2011 (!):

https://newsblur.com/

Subscribing to feeds is super-easy, too: the links for RSS feeds are invisibly embedded in web-pages. Just paste the URL of a web-page into your RSS reader's "add feed" box and it'll automagically figure out where the feed lives and add it to your subscriptions.

It's still true that the new, good internet will require a movement to overcome the collective action problems and the legal barriers to disenshittifying things. Almost nothing you do as an individual is going to make a difference.

But using RSS will! Using RSS to follow the stuff that matters to you will have an immediate, profoundly beneficial impact on your own digital life – and it will appreciably, irreversibly nudge the whole internet towards a better state.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

[jaewritesfic]

Melon!AU Part 2

If it had been anyone but Cass to suggest it, Bruce is certain that both Damian and Tim would have responded with an immediate and vehement, Are you insane?!

But it is Cass. It's Cass, so Damian makes a choked sound and bites out, “Help. The Pit Demon?”

Similarly, Tim chokes out, “I don't know about that one, Black Bat. I mean- it's- it looks-”

“Judging books?” Cass asks through comms, a gentle disapproval in her tone that rivals Alfred’s in effectiveness. Bruce himself feels a little cowed by it.

Diplomacy had not, after all, been on his mind before his daughter spoke up.

He should know better than to make assumptions, especially if she's right and the creature isn't as hostile as it seems.

That's still a very big if.

“Commissioner,” Bruce says lowly, turning his head. Gordon is lingering near the roof access stairway, having come up to brief them but seeming reluctant to even look down on the creature in the alley. “Have there been any casualties? Injuries?”

Jim falters, uncharacteristically rattled. Bruce can't blame him - there's a low level dread and an unsettling feeling just being in the same vicinity as the creature, and that's as a seasoned vigilante. Someone who faces death down regularly.

“Uh. No. No, it uh- it took some swipes at people who got too close, but it didn't connect. We backed off pretty fast and called you as soon as possible.”

Bruce blinks. “Not even any blood drawn?”

Gordon shakes his head. “Damn miracle. The thing is fast and those claws are vicious.”

He hears Cass hum into the comms, and he understands exactly why.

The thing in the alley is built to do damage. He has his doubts it was any kind of miracle that made it ‘miss’ any of the swipes it took.

Trying to scare them off indeed.

“Black Bat. What exactly are you reading off the creature?”

“Looking for exits. Desperate. Overwhelmed.”

Bruce hums. “Being cornered and desperate will make anyone or anything dangerous. We need to proceed carefully here. Even if it doesn't want to hurt anyone, that doesn't mean it won't if it thinks it has no other-”

The shadow that is Cass shifts in his periphery, and he looks up to the opposite roof just in time to bark, “Do not-!” as Cass steps off the roof and flips down into the alley.

Why are his kids so determined to give him a stroke?

Dick vaults up over the edge of the roof to join he and Tim, saying, “I'm here, what's-”

He cuts off and claps his hands over his ears with everyone else when the creature shrieks at Black Bat's unexpected arrival.

“Black Bat,” Bruce grits out, heart in his throat as he peers over the edge with ringing ears. “Retreat back to the rooftops now.”

One tap to the comm. No.

Bruce grits his teeth, fighting not to show his anxiety. It's not like Cass to refuse orders. Hell, he can't remember her ever disobeying an order in the field so blatantly.

The low warning noise the creature is making now is almost as bad as the shriek. Something about it sets off every alarm bell in his brain, like it was never meant to be heard by human ears. Almost a growl, almost a moan, something celestial and unfathomable.

Cass doesn't back up or get any closer. She raises a hand slowly in a little wave and says, “Hello.”

If it were possible to startle a fax machine, it would probably sound like the creature does as it jerks and snaps its mouth shut in surprise, lamplight eyes going huge and round.

Masterpost

[sanarsi]

Euphoria

professor!Joel Miller x student!f!Reader

Summary: One wrong call led to this, that instead of your boyfriend, it's your professor who picks you up from the party. Warnings: +18, MDNI, mention of drugs and alcohol, use of drugs (by reader), being under the influence of drugs, protective!Joel, angst, professor-student relationship, age gap (not specified), kinda perv!Joel(??? idk you'll judge), blowjob, pussy eating, cheating (kinda), protected PIV (he had a vasectomy), creampie, dom!Joel, no-outbreak AU, Sarah’s alive and happy, dubcon kinda? Wordcount: 8,1k An: Hiii, I would like to ask you to read the warnings before reading. If you are comfortable with the topic of drugs, angst and sex under the influence, I invite you to read and I hope you enjoy it. Meal is a meal and professor Miller is professor Miller so… this is just a good shit. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! <3 Music I worked with: Make You Mine - Madison Beer

Masterlist

The music was getting louder in your ears. Pushing through the sweaty, dancing people was becoming more and more of a challenge. Everything was starting to spin. You needed some fresh air.

The pills you took didn't work as they should have. Maybe you drank too much before, maybe you had a bad day, or maybe the guy had some shitty stuff.

Your lungs started to collapse more and more as you tried to take another breath. You panicked. You started pushing through the crowd faster and more aggressively. They didn't give a shit about you as much as you didn't give a shit about them.

Here, everyone lived their own life. Everyone had fun. You wanted too.

Until now.

A silent scream tried to escape you as you began to gulp air. You couldn't breathe any other way. You were getting weaker and weaker. Everything was getting hazy. The music was getting less and less distinct. Everything was like behind thick glass.

And right in the middle, in a little glass box, was you. Locked away with no access to oxygen and no cry for help.

You were alone.

Just when you thought the crowd would swallow you, you saw the door. A light at the end of the tunnel.

Something inside you, some instinct, forced your legs to move towards the exit. Your body acted as if it was programmed, like you weren't the one controlling it. Some greater force was moving you like a puppet.

The same force made the mysterious man appeared in front of you. You stopped, frowning and trying to focus your vision to identify his identity. But his face was blurry. Just like the touch of his arms, which wrapped around you to stop your body from falling.

"You've had enough for now," he said, slightly amused, and began to pull you towards the exit. You knew him. His voice was like a breath of fresh air and his arms gave you a false sense of security. You liked that voice. You liked the feeling that allowed you to take a moment to rest amidst the chaos around you and inside you.

"Call Joel," you mumbled indistinctly.

You reached your hand into the back pocket of your jeans and tried to pull out your phone a few times, but your strength disappeared. You couldn't even bring yourself to clench your fingers around this damn thing.

You were helpless and barely conscious, which made tears appear in your eyes.

Why did something like this have to happen when you finally wanted to break free and needed it more than anything else?

Why couldn't you have fun like the rest of them for once?

Why was it always you who got screwed?

"What's your password?" The pleasant male voice spoke again.

You frowned, closing your eyes as you tried to force yourself to think, or worse – say it out loud. The wind blow across your heated skin, making you shiver. You were freezing cold despite it being the middle of summer.

You felt bad and it was getting worse with every passing minute.

"Four zeros," you managed to choke out and looked around shakily. You were standing at the top of the stairs leading to the house.

When had you two left? You didn't register that moment.

The arm around your waist dug harder into your flesh as your knees buckled beneath you. You gasped, trying to keep your weight on the unstable sticks which were your, not so useful right now, legs.

The slightest gust of wind, or even a slight tilt of your head, made you swung like a blade of grass in the wind.

The feeling of falling sent panic through the corners of your brain, but your eyelids continued to droop heavily, blocking your vision. You braced yourself for the pain that was about to dull the rest of your senses, but all you felt was something hard under and behind you. After a moment, a cold sensation appeared around your head, which brought you no small amount of relief.

You purred with pleasure, snuggling closer to the metal railings by the stairs. Your friend looked down at you with concern before he went back to searching for the right contact in your phone.

And that's when the first problem appeared.

You had two phone numbers saved the same way.

Joel.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath and selected the first contact.

Seconds passed, another ring sounded by his ear until automatic voicemail went off.

In that case, it had to be the second number, he thought. Since the first one was inactive, the second one had to be the good one, right?

Bull's eye.

After the third ring, a sleepy 'hello' sounded in the speaker.

"Hi, sorry to wake you up, but your girlfriend isn't in the best shape," he started immediately, glancing at your semi-conscious figure, cowering on the stairs. “’think she took some crappy stuff and is goin’ down the drain. She told me to call you. Can you come pick her up?”

There was silence on the other end.

A long silence.

A drawn-out silence.

He had to check phone to make sure the call was still going.

“Hello?”

“Give me the address.”

A quick exchange of the most necessary information ended the conversation. That was enough for Joel to appear in the district where the address was located in less than twenty minutes.

You were sitting cuddled in the arm of your friend, who was soothingly stroking your back. He didn't know if you had fallen asleep or if you were just that calm. He only hoped that you weren't struggling too much in your head after taking some shit. You weren't able to help him find out what and who you took it from.

His attention was drawn to the car that stopped in front of the house.

"Joel came to pick you up," he whispered with a smile and noticed that you woke up a bit at his words. You blinked a few times, raising your gaze.

"’s not that Joel," you mumbled.

He frowned, surprised by your reaction, and looked towards the man who just got out of the car and headed towards you.

At first, he couldn't recognize his face, but the closer he got, the clearer it became.

Indeed, he didn't look like your boyfriend. He was... too old to be in a relationship with you. He looked more like your father.

Maybe he was your uncle and he just got you into trouble? Damn it.

"You're not her boyfriend," he stated as Joel stopped by the stairs. His gaze was fixed on you and this sight definitely didn't satisfy him but he tried to didn't show it.

"Do I look like him?" he muttered unpleasantly and looked disapprovingly at the young boy who was holding you in his arms.

His silence was quite telling.

"What did she take?" he asked glancing at your barely conscious form.

"I don't–"

"Wonderful." The rough answer, silenced him effectively. "Did she have some stuff with her?" The next question only stressed the young boy out more.

"Are you her father or somethin’?" he asked, a bit skeptical of the older man.

"I'm her teacher," he replied, pressing his lips together tightly at the sight of you.

No one expected such an answer.

A quiet voice in your friend head blamed him for confusing the contacts and calling a strange guy instead of your boyfriend. What confused him more, was reason, why you had your teacher's number in your phone. And what was even more interesting, was why he picked up at such a late hour and decided to come pick you up.

"I–" he began, not very convinced by the fact that he had to hand you over to a strange guy who was your 'teacher'.

"I'll take her home," he cut him off firmly before he could express his distrust.

Without waiting for the boy to answer, Joel approached you and took your jaw in his hand. You frowned at the sudden movement, because your head was spinning in a bad way. Your gaze was absent as he tried to assess your condition.

Fact, you were in bad shape. He didn't even know if you were able to recognize him, which made the situation a bit more difficult.

"Sweetheart, tell me what you took," he said in a soft but firm tone.

You snorted sweetly, because his voice had a strangely soothing effect on your insides. You couldn't recognize his blurry face, but his touch was familiar. Warm, thick fingers that sent warm shivers through your body. You wanted to melt in his hand, and that's exactly what you did.

The entire weight of your head flew towards him, which made him tighten his grip, digging his fingers into your cheeks.

"Sweetheart..." he repeated softly to get your attention.

You opened your eyes with a blissful smile and tried with all your might to remember who those dark chocolate eyes belonged to. But it was his glasses that made a light bulb go off in your head.

“Just one blue pill, Professor,” you replied, causing relief from Joel and surprise from your friend.

"What are the blue ones for?" he asked, returning to his cold tone as he looked at the young boy.

"I– I don't know," he stuttered, frightened by sudden change in man’s behavior towards him.

"Then find out," he growled, nodding toward the house. Not a second had passed when the boy hurriedly disappeared behind the door.

Joel looked at you again with concern. You didn't look as bad as you had a moment ago. In fact, you looked like you were having a great time. Maybe you had a slightly wandering look, but the smile on your face and the sparkles in your eyes gave a misleading impression.

He knelt down in front of you with a quiet groan and looked at you from every side. There were no signs that anything bad had happened to you.

One stone from the heart. You were safe and sound. A little high, but healthy.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked and with his other hand he fixed the hair that was falling over your face. You watched his movements as if enchanted.

Everything had more vivid colors. His eyes were darker, deeper; you could drown in them. Every move he made seemed to play out in slow motion, giving you all the time you wanted to admire him.

"Joel Miller," you replied, smiling wider. "I didn't know you liked parties," you added before he could say anything. You threw him off balance with that.

He frowned, looking at you closely and he had to admit that he himself had once been young and had done a lot of... illegal things; that's why he decided to go in the direction you had imposed.

"I don't, but sometimes it happens and I end in places like this. I'm a little too old for such fun, you know?" he smiled gently, seeing that you were feeling better and better or the opposite – the drugs were starting to work.

"Just like me. But I'm young." You laughed charmingly, to which he laughed too and nodded. Your burst of energy was starting to worry him a little, but he'd rather that than you having a bad trip.

"So... since we're both not into parties, how about I take you home?"

He was treading thin ice to see if you'd cooperate with him. Unfortunately, your smile suddenly disappeared and he cursed in his mind.

"I can't, my parents think I'm at a friend's," you explained, rubbing your arm nervously.

Okay, that wasn't the answer that would put him in a bind.

"Then I'll take you to your friend's," he suggested but all he got in response was a negative shake of the head.

"She left."

That was already causing a bigger problem.

Joel tried to think quickly. All the possibilities flew through his head, choosing a few that he could test.

"Your friend said something about your boyfriend," he remembered, feeling that this was the way out of the whole situation. Your boyfriend, who was supposed to come here instead of him. At least that's what he concluded from the call he received.

"That asshole stood me up. He was supposed to come here with me, but he went with his friends to who knows where," you snapped, feeling furious at the jerk who dared to call himself your partner. Maybe you would regret this relationship if it wasn't for the fact that you were together for sex. Actually, apart from that, you didn't even like each other that much.

Despite that, he was good in bed, he took care of you at parties and other outings, and his name was Joel.

Exactly.

You were with him because you could shamelessly scream his name while you fucked, while really thinking about someone else. But that was your sweet secret. Sweet secret that held your jaw, staring at you through the lenses of his glasses.

"You don’t have anyone I could take you to?" he asked, increasingly helpless.

You smiled sweetly and shook your head in denial. "Nope."

A quiet sigh left his lips as he tried to think of a way out of this situation.

The worry in his eyes didn't match your current mood. You didn't like the fact that he was sad around you. You wanted to have fun, be happy, forget about all your problems for a moment.

"That's why I have to stay at the party until the morning," you said with a wide smile, at which he frowned.

"No," he ordered seriously, surprising you a bit. You rarely witnessed Joel addressing anyone like that. Especially you – his favorite. "I won't let you stay here when you're under the influence of some shitty pills."

"But–"

"No," he cut you off immediately. "I don't want to hear a word of protest. I'm your teacher even outside of working hours. I have to take care of your safety." His tone clearly indicated that he didn't want to hear your reasons for staying.

How could you argue with a man whose every word was sacred to you? Even if you wanted to, you couldn't because your friend came out of the house, catching your attention or at least Joel's attention, because yours was still focused only on him.

A smile bloomed on your face again as you could look at him with impunity.

Oh, he was handsome.

Deadly handsome for a man his age. Your father was younger than him and he looked much worse.

How was it even possible that you started to be attracted to a man older than your own father? You didn't know that, but you weren't going to delve into it because you liked the feeling he aroused in you.

"She took ecstasy." You heard from somewhere behind you before Joel looked straight into your eyes again as if he was looking for something. You didn't know for what, because he couldn't be looking for you; you were right in front of him.

"Come on, sweetheart," he sighed with a warm smile and slowly stood up. "I'll take you home, okay?" he suggested, holding out his hand to you.

You looked up at him with doe eyes and nodded silently. You didn't want him to be mad at you.

You didn't want to let him down so you politely gave him your hand and let him pull you up. It took a moment for your legs to get used to doing their duties again before you could fully stand on your own but despite that, Joel still wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you tightly to his side.

He didn’t want to risk you falling and cracking your head. Fate liked to play games with people and he had learned that the hard way many times. Way too many times.

Without any additional pleasantries, he led you to his car and sat you in the passenger seat. Your head was getting heavier as you tried to watch his movements; the way he fastened your seatbelt, the way he made sure you weren't sick, the way he ran his gaze down your body to make sure everything was okay.

But all he had to do was close the door and your eyelids closed by themselves. The car was quiet, nice and warm. You felt safe and the delicate scent of perfume he used only relaxed your muscles more.

Joel got into the car and before he drove away, he glanced at how you were trying not to let your eyelids fall. He sighed quietly, shaking his head in resignation and slowly drove out onto the street. Silence fell between you due to the fact that you had lost the fight with tiredness and simply fell asleep.

And at the same time he was struggling with his thoughts of what he should do. What was appropriate for him to do. He should have taken you home. Even if you were going to have a row after crossing the threshold. It was none of his business what happened to you after he got you to safety.

But another thought lurked in his mind. An idea that shouldn't have been there. Had no right to be there. Yet this thought overshadowed what was right.

Because Joel had long since admitted to himself that you were more important to him than the rest of the students. He had stopped denying how much he enjoyed sitting with you in his office in the evenings, helping you study. After many months of struggling with himself, he realized how much he appreciated your company, your attention, your smile, all of you.

That's why the thought of taking you home and witnessing the fight immediately slipped of off his mind.

He didn't want to cause you any trouble at home. The fact that he found you in such a state only proved that you had enough to worry about. Why would he give you more? He didn't like it when your pretty little head was filled with problems he couldn't help you with. But with what was happening now, he could help you.

That’s why after twenty minutes he stopped in front of his house.

You continued to sleep soundly, not worrying about anything anymore and he didn't have the heart to wake you up. You looked too innocent for him to interrupt your peaceful state of unconsciousness. The smudged mascara and a bit of glitter on your eyelids only added to your charm.

Joel really wanted to hate himself for the way his heart beat at the sight of you, but he couldn't. He couldn't hate the feeling you evoked in him. Because this feeling was good. Warmth spread across his chest and more wrinkles formed around his eyes from the wide smiles you caused in him.

You were like a ray of sunshine. Why would he hate the sunbeam that fell on him?

He knew he shouldn't feel this way. You were his student, the best he'd ever had the chance to teach. But he couldn't fight it. Not when you were pushing yourself into his arms. When you gave him your full attention. When your hand touched his every chance you got. He just couldn't.

That's why it didn't bother him at all to carry you home. Actually, he did it with all too much desire. He couldn't resist the feeling of holding you in his arms as your head rested peacefully on his shoulder.

The door closed behind him with a soft click as he slowly walked down the hallway. Darkness reigned everywhere after he was suddenly yanked out of bed. Now there wasn't much left of his desire to sleep.

He carefully opened the door to the guest room and tightened his arms a little as he walked with you over the threshold. As if to spite you, your phone began to vibrate, which made you grumble anxiously. He quickly laid you on the bed and reached into the back pocket of your pants. The bright screen forced him to squint as he tried to see who was calling you at this hour.

Joel.

He frowned, glancing at you and then back at the phone. Before he could think about his decision, he clicked the red receiver, rejecting the call and muted your phone, placing it on the cabinet next to it. Just in case, he did it in such a way that another incoming call wouldn't be visible.

Your quiet groan caught his attention so he didn't wait for you to wake up any longer and carefully started to take off your shoes; right after that, socks. He couldn't let you sleep uncomfortably after, what was probably a pretty lively, party. He felt that he had to take care of not only your safety but also your comfort, so that you could wake up in the morning without any consequences after tonight. And only because of that reason, his gaze wandered to your legs covered in jeans.

He cursed himself in his mind because of the ideas that started to come to his mind.

He couldn't.

He should leave you like this and go back to his bedroom.

He should have done it.

And yet, he leaned closer to you and gently stroked your cheek. "Sweetheart," he said quietly, wanting to wake you up.

Although there was at least that much common sense left in him.

He smiled fondly when he saw that you opened your eyelids a little with a grunt. "Lift your hips," he ordered and all he got in response was to do as he asked. No questions or comments.

Feeling the growing tightness in his chest, he unbuttoned your button and zipper. Deep down he knew how fucking wrong it was. But he couldn't fight it as his fingers began to slide the material of your jeans down your hips.

Another grievous sin was added to his mental list as his gaze fell on your underwear. The lump in his throat began to grow with every second his eyes were fixed on your black panties.

So damn plain black cotton panties.

Then why was this the sexiest sight in his whole life?

"Fuck," he cursed in a whisper and pulled your pants all the way down. Then your hips fell back onto the mattress with a quiet sigh.

He felt like a pervert, seeing you like this when you were on the edge of reality and dream so he forced himself to leave the room while he still could.

How long before he gave in?

It took a trip to the bathroom and his room.

Then he reappeared by the bed where you were lying half naked; with his old t-shirt in one hand and micellar fluid in the other. Having a daughter had many advantages, so he knew that falling asleep with makeup on was not something pleasant.

That's why for the next ten minutes he gently wiped your face with soaked cotton pads. He sat by your side, carefully wiped off the smallest traces of makeup and had to admit, that it was also refreshing even for him. A moment of silence helped him calm his thoughts, and the sight of your innocent face only confirmed that he had to take care of you. That was all that mattered now.

Until the moment you purred and delicate smile spread across your lips.

That was enough for a burning heat to appear in his chest again.

"This feels nice," you whispered in a slightly hoarse voice.

Joel was just finishing cleaning your cheek when your eyes began to stare at him. This time you didn't have a wandering gaze. You seemed... normal.

He quickly believed it because he wanted to believe it. He wanted you to be sober at the moment when you were closer than ever before. When you were in his house. Lying in his bed. On his sheets.

"How do you feel?" he asked, placing the cotton pad on the cabinet next to him, not taking his eyes off your shiny ones.

"Good." Your smile didn't disappear for a moment as you watched him carefully. You definitely weren't complaining about seeing him, but you wondered about other thing. "Where are we?" After that question, you looked around the dark room a bit. You didn't remember ever being in this place. It was too pretty here compared to the places you usually stayed.

"In my house," he replied, a bit afraid of your reaction.

Maybe he really should have taken you to your house despite the problems that were to come?

Maybe he went too far by bringing you to his place without your consent.

It's true that at university you were close, but it was always at the university. Never outside of it.

"It's nice here."

Your comment dispelled all his doubts. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath when a sigh of relief finally left his lungs.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, wanting to get back on solid ground.

Your presence of mind would allow him to pull himself together. All you had to do was say you were tired. That you wanted to go to sleep. That you wanted for him to leave you alone.

Anything that would indicate that he should go and leave you alone.

"Can I have a glass of water, please?" you asked, looking at him as if the request was too much to ask for.

You had already violated his hospitality. He had picked you up from a party in the middle of the night and brought you to his house. You were slowly starting to feel like an idiot.

"Of course," he nodded and left the room, leaving you alone.

You rubbed your face with your hand and slowly sat up. A penetrating feeling of shame crept into your head as you began to look at your thighs.

Did you undress yourself or did he undress you? You probably didn't want to know the answer to that question.

You felt like you'd already made a fool of yourself. You couldn't even tell if the drugs were still affecting you. You felt light, good, but your mind was starting to work differently. You didn't know what to focus on what to think. There were so many things happening that you should have been in control of right now and yet you sat there helplessly, staring at your flesh.

You came to the conclusion that you probably didn't have the strength to feel ashamed of what was happening now. You were too tired. Your mind wouldn't cooperate with you, so the best option was to face everything in the morning.

Despite your momentary sobriety, you still couldn't fight the feeling that was growing in your belly. Like a big warm ball was warming up your insides and giving you pleasure. That was the only reason you had a constant blissful smile on your face. It felt good. Focusing on that feeling was much more enjoyable than trying to think.

Joel returned a few minutes later with a glass of water, finding you dressed in his shirt and sitting on the edge of the bed with your head down. He swallowed hard, fighting the feeling the sight of you had stirred in him. He didn't want to admit what it was doing to him.

“Here,” he said, catching your attention. You looked up at him, your eyes so big and shiny that he had to clench his jaw to control his emotions. It wasn’t until a moment later that your gaze dropped to the glass in front of your face and, with a silent 'thank you', you took it.

In silence, he sat down next to you and watched as you took small sips. The cold water brought you some relief and tasted much better than usual. Only when you had drunk half a glass, you put it on the cabinet next to you and wiped your lips with the back of your hand. The silence echoed in your ears, making you focus more on the growing feeling of pleasure in your body.

You had to do something to not fall into this.

"I'm sorry," you said, starting to gently bite your lip. Despite the whole situation, you wanted to smile. "This wasn't supposed to be like this."

"And what was it supposed to be like?" His question made you look at him. Warmth radiated from him. He didn't seem angry. He didn't seem like he blamed you for your irresponsibility. It was a strangely pleasant change from what you usually experienced with your father.

You laughed quietly and looked down. “I don’t know,” you admitted, shrugging. You didn’t even know how to answer that question. Because what exactly did you expect? “I wanted to escape reality for a bit.”

“Aren’t there other ways to do it?”

“There probably are, but that was the only one I know of.”

You might be ashamed of it, but it was the truth. There was nothing in your life that would allow you to forget, even for a moment, all the shit that was going on around you.

You didn't want to think about it at a time when you felt light as a feather. You clenched your fists tighter into the mattress to hold back your smile because all you wanted to do was gasp while laughing at how good you felt.

Joel didn't seem to notice. He felt like you were struggling with negative emotions and he wanted so badly to help you get rid of the thoughts that were occupying your mind. You looked like you were at least physically in pain as your entire body tensed up as if searching for the slightest point of contact. Without thinking too much, his hand covered yours. You let out a shaky breath as his large fingers tightened around yours. It was a comforting gesture on his part, but to you it was like pouring gasoline on a fire. His touch was all you could focus on. The hot, large hand that was touching your small, cold one.

You began to tremble. Everything inside you began to crave more of that feeling, even though his hand alone was enough to make a moan die in your throat.

"I want to help you."

His offer hung between you like heavy clouds. His words had no second meaning, and yet you took it that way.

He wanted to help you. But how?

How could he make your mind stop running with tormenting thoughts?

You searched for the answer to this question in his eyes and even though this was an ordinary question, something else was lurking inside him. Something that you caught. Or at least that's what you thought.

However, thinking at a time like this wasn't working out very well for you. That's why you didn't know how your lips found their way to his. You couldn't remember when you got so close, pressing a strong kiss to his mouth.

You squeezed your eyes shut, frozen and waiting for his answer but Joel was in too much shock to do anything. Even breathing seemed like a superhuman ability now. That's why after the seconds dragged on, you pulled away with a sense of shame. Seeing the shock on his face, you really felt like an idiot but you couldn't control yourself. You didn't even know how on earth you decided to do something like that. How on earth did you decide to cross the sacred border.

"Professor, I'm sorry-" you tried to explain yourself but then his hand found its way into your hair, pulling you firmly only for him to initiate the kiss this time.

You moaned not expecting such a turn of events. His stubble pleasantly irritated your skin, sending waves of stars all over your body. A smile spread across your lips as his proximity began to stimulate you. Soft lips perfectly matched yours. Every kiss he gave you was like you had done it a thousand times before. His tongue was delicate and sweet, making you purr with pleasure. Every second of his closeness gave you more strength.

He and drugs were the most addictive combination you had ever had the opportunity to try. Apart from the fact that all your desires, that you had for this man for a very long time, were coming true.

Neither of you even thought about how fucked up it all was. You both wanted this too much to care about anything but each other's touch.

Even Joel started to feel like he was high. Your soft lips and quiet sighs gave him shivers of desire. He couldn't remember the last time his cock hardened as quickly as the moment your hand started to travel up his thigh.

He couldn't hold back a groan when your fingers gently tightened around the bulge in his sweatpants. The mere fact that he was so turned on by you, sent waves of arousal through every corner of your body. Heavenly feeling overshadowed all your senses.

“Please,” you whispered desperately into his mouth.

You felt his hand tighten around yours, making him moan, and you took that as an answer. You hooked your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, silently asking him to take them off. And that’s exactly what he did, without thinking too much, he lifted his hips and slid everything in your way off of them. Your kisses became sloppier and deeper as your hand found its way to his cock again.

Cold fingers wrapped around his hot, throbbing friend. The skin-to-skin contact elicited a throaty groan from him.

He was thick. You could barely contain him as you slowly began to pump him, up and down, letting more precum wet his tip. You gently ran your thumb over his head to spread everything. His cock trembled in your hand, trying to escape the too intense feeling.

His fingers tightened on your hair and his lips stopped coordinating with yours. You smiled widely and synchronized your kisses with the movements of your hand. With your tongue, you collected all the moans that came out of him. Joel felt like he was in a trap that he didn't want to get out of. Your gentle kisses and touch were driving him to the limits of his self-control.

And any remaining control disappeared the moment you fell to your knees before him.

You settled comfortably between his thighs, licking your lips. Joel sighed at the sight and propped himself up on his hands, leaning back a bit to get a better view of the way a string of saliva flew out of your mouth. His cock didn't even have time to twitch at this feeling because his tip disappeared into your mouth.

“Oh fuck,” he inhaled loudly.

You didn't give him a chance to get used to your warm tongue before you swallowed him halfway. He winced at the sudden surge of pleasure and looked at you with his mouth parted. You began to work your head, taking him deeper with each pass.

You were determined to swallow him whole, despite what you were capable of. You needed to prove to yourself that you could do it, that you could do more for him than for others.

“That's right, baby,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Hearing the praise from his lips, you felt like you were capable of anything. And that's exactly what you did, swallowing him whole.

A loud moan bounced off the walls as your throat tightened around his tip. He thrust his hips, trying to go deeper, and you let him. You pressed your nose into his flesh, holding him completely in your mouth. Joel watched everything with delight. Every twitch of his cock causing your walls to tighten around him.

He tried to breathe calmly but he couldn't focus on anything except how wonderful it felt to feel your mouth on his dick. He preferred not to admit how many times he had seen this sight before his eyes when he masturbated. Now, when he was experiencing it firsthand, he felt like he was in heaven. His imagination couldn't even match up to how skillfully you drove him crazy.

You started to choke so you immediately pulled away from his crotch. A string of saliva was the only thing that connected you two as you raised a tearful gaze at him. Joel was breathing heavily as he stared at you with adoration. And even though he wanted to feel your lips around him again, he couldn't stop himself from feeling them on him again.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a hard kiss and covered your cheeks with his hands, forcing you to stand up. You didn't resist his movements, allowing him to pull you onto his lap. His cock throbbed, hitting your lower abdomen, causing another wave of arousal to start leaking out of you.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, deepening the kiss and allowing yourself a moment to play with his tongue. Joel was more than willing to let you do whatever you wanted to him. He gripped your ass tightly, earning a moan from you.

The hot ball inside you turned into a real fire between your thighs. The feeling was starting to overwhelm you, forcing quiet squeals out of you as you rubbed against his hard cock over and over again.

You needed to get rid of this feeling.

You needed to relieve yourself of the pain of arousal.

“Please, I want you inside me.”

Your silent plea didn't have to wait long for his answer. In one movement, he turned you over, letting you fall onto the soft mattress. You gasped when he suddenly pulled away from you and practically ripped your panties off. All the wetness smeared across the inside of your thighs but Joel was too busy to notice. He squeeze your panties in his hand, feeling the black material was completely soaked and shamelessly inhaled your scent.

Your pheromones awakened things in him he didn't know existed. Like in a frenzy, he hid your underwear in the pocket of his sweatpants and blindly threw his glasses on the table. He didn't really care that they probably broke when you writhed in anticipation on the bed in front of him.

"I've been waiting ages to find out what you taste like," he said, more to himself than to you, and grabbed you tightly by the hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. Your breath caught in your lungs as his hands began to roam your body in a possessive way and right under your shirt.

But when his face disappeared between your legs, you couldn't take the tension anymore and you threw your head back with a moan. Just the feeling of his breath and the knowledge of how close he was to your pussy was driving you crazy. He didn't have to do anything at all to make you writhe under him.

Every muscle in your body tensed as you felt him start to lick everything that smeared on your thigh. You began to pant heavily, feeling as he got closer to his goal with every second. Until finally, he planted the wettest, deepest kiss on your slit. You moaned loudly, arching your back at the overwhelming feeling. His tongue ran along the length of your pussy and with a growl of satisfaction, he sucked on your clit.

Instinctively, you clenched your fists tightly on the sheets and tried to move your hips out of his reach, but his hands on your waist effectively stopped your movements.

The sting of his beard perfectly matched his agile tongue. You were shocked at how quickly a familiar feeling began to gather in your lower abdomen. You couldn't remember the last time someone had brought you to such a state.

You didn't know what was causing it. The drugs that were still circulating in your blood, your desire for him or his amazing abilities. It was also possible that all of them at once made your legs tremble.

You wanted to scream, squeal, tell him to stop, tell him to continue. You couldn't decide but he made the decision for you, pulling away and depriving you of your orgasm. You opened your eyes, searching for him with your gaze and you wanted to beg him to come back to his place.

Seeing your gaze, a smirk appeared on his face. Having you in such a state made him feel like a god. He had already forgotten what it felt like to have such power over someone, to experience someone looking at you with such desire as you did for him when he took away your opportunity to come.

"You'll come with my cock inside you," he decided.

You blinked a few times and closed your mouth in shock. It was the first time you had witnessed such a change in his behavior and you had to admit that you liked him even more this way. You loved his gentle nature that surrounded you every day but his possessive version aroused a wild desire in you.

You wanted to dig your nails into his flesh until it bled and beg him to come inside you so hard and deep that you would see stars. But instead of saying that, you nodded, barely able to say a quiet 'okay'.

Your answer satisfied him.

Your submission satisfied him.

Holding his cock stiffly, he positioned himself between your legs. You felt him right at your entrance and you shuddered, clenching around nothing. Joel looked with satisfaction at the mess that you were. Disheveled hair, shiny eyes, his shirt that now revealed more than it covered.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispered affectionately at the sight of you.

Your breath caught in your throat when you locked eyes with him. But your eyes rolled back in an instant when his hands gripped your hips tightly and in one movement he pulled you to him, impaling you all the way on his cock. The cry that came out of you was the most animalistic sound he had ever heard. He shuddered with a moan feeling your tight pussy pulsating around him. He couldn't even experience this feeling in his dreams.

"I knew you'd be perfect," he gasped and slowly pulled out of you only to thrust hard back.

Another scream tore through your throat like fire but it didn't stop him from slowly setting the perfect pace for himself. The sound of flesh slapping flesh echoed through the room.

"Soaked, warm and tight."

He thrust harder and harder and you couldn't shake the feeling of him going so damn deep inside you. The arousal overshadowed the pain he was causing you. You weren't used to his cock. It was thicker and longer than the one you usually had inside you.

"Made especially for me," he growled, digging his fingers deeper into your hips.

You wrapped your hands around his wrists and dug your nails into them, silently begging for him to be more gentle.

You never expected someone like Joel to be so domineering in bed. In your fantasies, it was always you who was finishing him off, not him finishing you off.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” he panted, searching for your gaze until he finally found it, completely cock drunk. You winced as he thrust hard into you once again, not giving you a chance to catch your breath. He saw how bravely you were struggling with what he had given you, how you were trying to get used to his size. He felt you still clench around him tightly and if you could, you would rip his cock off. "To who?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows encouragingly.

For a guy his age, he held himself surprisingly well despite how fast he moved his hips, impaling you over and over again with his entire length.

"Toyoutoyoutoyou," you hissed in one breath and began to pant heavily, feeling the increasing tension in the muscles between your legs.

Joel smiled, pleased with the state he had brought you to, and pushed harder into you. That was the first time you saw stars and your lungs forgot how to breathe.

"You're right, to me," he nodded, leaning towards you. His hand slid under your shirt and after a moment it squeezed pleasantly painfully on your breast. You whimpered from the new stimulant that echoed off your clit. "And you know what I don't like?" he asked, teasing your nipple with his thumb, while slowing down the movements of his hips, entering you more passionately. "Sharing," he answered before his question even reached your consciousness.

Longer and longer moans accompanied every movement of his hips. His cock smoothly began to rub against that perfect spot in your pussy. You felt like crying from the pleasure that intensified the feeling of ecstasy inside you.

"Do you think your boyfriend will be happy when you tell him who's going to fuck you from now on?" he purred, rubbing his nose against your cheek. The scent of desperation filled his nostrils. You needed to come. You needed to be free from this burning feeling in your mind.

"What boyfriend?" you asked, overcome by the approaching fulfillment.

Joel smiled against your face and began to place wet kisses on your neck. You closed your eyes, tangling your fingers in his hair and fully surrendering yourself to everything he was giving you. His cock gently stimulated your cervix and the rest of his length created the perfect friction that drove you crazy. His hand sensually stroked your thigh and the other caressed your breast. This deadly combination quickly took away the last of your ability to think.

"Will you come for me, pretty girl?" he whispered, gently biting your skin. "Cum for me and let me fill you."

The only answer you were able to give him was a long moan as you reached your peak. You could dimly hear his praises and how proud he was of you. The feeling of euphoria spread through your body in strong waves, reaching the furthest corners of your body. Joel watched with fascination as the orgasm took over your body, the way you began to arch beneath him, the way you clenched your fingers tightly in his hair in need. This sight was something he feared he would never see again in his life. And yet, it was you lying beneath him, satisfied, overcome by pleasure.

The throbbing of your cunt and just you in yourself, drove him mad. Orgasm shook his body as if the last time he fucked was thirty years ago. The pleasure overpowered his ability to breathe. He froze, letting his cum fill you completely.

It felt like when he first discovered what his hand could do.

Overcome by the experience, he didn't even notice you watching him in silence, trying to calm your breathing. Your eyes sparkled as you stared at his tired face. You couldn't accept the fact that you had just experienced what you had dreamed of for a long time. And for the first time in a long time, you were just so fucking happy.

"Thank you," you whispered, placing your hands on his cheeks and lifting your head to connect your lips in a gentle kiss. Joel didn't resist even a second as he deepened the kiss, crushing you with his weight.

In that moment, you could admit that you forgot about the whole world. It was only him.

[luvwestwood]

"Thank You For Your Service" - Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna

4,341 words.

warnings. nsfw, firemen! toji/sukuna, food-play, oral sex, p in v, mildly dubious con, double penetration, unprotected sex, throat fucking, rough play/sex, praising kink, creampie, degradation/dumbification (slut, whore)

notes. as an owner of your own independent bakery, you deliver your local firemen some sweet treats as a 'thanks' for their service. although a few of the men at the station decide to have a little fun with you. aka toji and sukuna fuck you silly and stuff you with their cum like a profiterole. also this has been in my draft for ages and I wanted to post it before I get back to classes 😭💀

banner cred. @/yunonoai on twt/ig

After successfully balancing the cash register, you glance over to the clock on the wall that reads sharply, '4:30' in the afternoon.

The rest of the staff, aka the young students you've hired to work in your bakery were long gone, as you had let them off quite early today.

You walked over to the display fridges to see what's remained of the cakes from today. As expected, there were a good few things left such as profiteroles and small dessert cakes.

"Mmm, maybe I should give these to the firemen down at the station."

You smiled as you came up with the sustainable idea to gift the local fire station a box of sweet treats as a thank you for their service. I mean, who wouldn't want free cakes?

You hummed as you tied the pink ribbon over the box. Hopefully you put enough in there, you knew that those working at the fire station were hardworking people, so they needed a lot to refuel.

Glancing to the clock again, only fifteen minutes have passed. You decided it was time to make your way to the fire station. You made sure everything was left prepared for the opening staff tomorrow. Grabbing your coat from the staff room, you took the rest of your belongings, and the nicely wrapped box, making your way to the fire station.

The walk wasn't long, as the station was only located down the avenue. They put the station in a place to make sure it was accessible for everyone. It was convenient for you at this moment too.

Coming to the front of the fire station, you were met with the garage shutters open. You weren't sure if you should just walk in through there, or go around to the visitors entrance. The lights were on though, and you could hear a faint chatter coming from the inside.

Deciding to take a peek, you could see two men sitting in chairs and talking, which you assumed were the firemen on duty today.

You couldn’t really make out their faces, but you could tell one had coral hair, the other, a dark black. At the same time, you mentally slapped yourself for freezing in one spot, wondering why you were unable to move.

Your eyes scanned their bodies, the muscular physique they owned had only been complimented by the fitted navy shirt they were wearing. You could tell both had put in the work at the gym. For once, you wished you were in a burning building right now.

Suddenly, the coral haired man looked in your direction, and by now you could make out some strange tattoos on his face. You gasp, startled at the fact he had caught you staring for awhile like some idiot. Curious, the raven haired man turns his head as well, and speaks.

"Well.. what do we have here?" he continued, "You lost, doll?" his voice so deep, it only went straight through your ears, down to your pussy.

By now, you had the attention of the two men, and it sort of felt belittling in a way. Part of you wanted to turn around and leave, as if nothing happened. Or maybe you could act like you walked into the wrong place.

Gulping, you clutched onto the corners of the box out of nervousness. "No.. I work at the local bakery down the block. I came here to uhm...” Your voice trails off, you had forgotten what to say.

The coral haired one butts into the conversation.

"Oh Toji, you've made her all nervous. She's so soft spoken now." He motions his hand for you to come closer, the so called 'Toji' rolling his eyes at what the other had said.

Hesitant, you stepped through the garage entrance, now hearing it close behind you as you walked closer to the two men. I guess there’s no turning back now..

You still didn't know what the coral haired one was called.

As you finally stood in front of them, they respectfully did the same, standing from the chairs they were just on.

Your stomach churned as you noticed the difference between your heights, the men now towering over you had only made the nauseous feeling worse. It had caused you to look up at them, like some lost puppy. Am I really this sex deprived?

You could have sworn that you felt something purr down there as the so-called Toji crosses his arms, his massive biceps on show. His navy fitted shirt practically sculpted over his muscles.

Begging to get out of this place that made it more difficult to withstand each minute, you spoke first.

“I work at the bakery down the street,” you continued after a breath, “..and I just wanted to give you these goodies as a thank you for your service to this city.”

Wanting to compensate for discomforting you earlier, Toji speaks. “Ain’t that sweet? S’kuna, take the box and put it behind me on the table.”

Sukuna, gently takes the box from your grasp. You felt your face warm up as his more bigger, calloused hands made contact with yours. He smiled at you, possibly for a silent thanks. You couldn't help but do the same.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you blushed. Flattered that these men were praising you. “Oh, it’s nothing really..” you slowly took a step back. “Anyways, I better get going.”

Toji had only kept his eyes on you, as if he were to devour you at any moment. Leaning against the table behind him, Toji didn't dare to look at anything else in the garage. Sukuna was busy on the other hand, toying with the pink ribbon on the box.

“..Leavin’ already? Isn't that a shame, I thought that you yourself came with these desserts.” Toji snickered, looking at Sukuna behind his shoulder for a response.

Your lashes fluttered, in utter shock you were speechless.

Sukuna, could only laugh at Toji’s cheeky joke that was laced with filth. His own eyes watched you as he sucked the cake’s cream off his fingertips.

Awkwardly laughing, you brush off what just happened. “..I really.. need to get going. I have a bus to catch.” You lied, thinking that it would be able to get you out of here.

“C’mon, it’s not everyday we get the opportunity to share these cakes with a pretty girl. Right, ‘kuna?”

“Yeah, today’s our lucky day.” Sukuna hums, his sentence ending with a smirk.

Biting your lip, you thought about it for a moment. I mean, there wouldn’t be anything else for you to do as soon as you come home.

You knew you were going to regret this, but part of you wanted to stay. I mean, what could go wrong? “Mmm, okay fine, I guess I have a few minutes to spare..”

Toji grins, the scar on his mouth moving with his lips as you walk back closer to the two. "I promise, we'll make the most of it."

He stands back from the table, casually grabbing you by the waist and swiftly setting you atop the table as if you were a doll. You could only hiccup, taken aback by his sudden gesture. You immediately tug down on your skirt due to it rising up just now.

Flustered and warm, you made the sensible decision to take off your coat. Toji only takes it from your possession, setting the coat down on a chair nearby.

Your legs dangled off the edge of the table, slowly swinging back and forth, taking a few breaths to calm your nerves as you watch the men’s next move.

Toji stood in front, facing you, almost between your legs as he reached over to the box of desserts on your right side, grabbing one of the few cream cakes.

Sukuna on the other hand, makes small talk with you. “You make these yourself, beautiful?”

“Oh no, not just by myself. I have a few other staff at my bakery who of course help out.”

He nods slowly in approval, wiping the rest of the ganache off his hands using the pants of his cargo overalls.

You bit your lip, asking a sudden question out of curiosity . “Can I ask, where’s the rest of your crew?.. Is it just you two?”

Toji, busy taking a bite of the cake rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t matter right now,” the question stays unanswered as he changed topics, “God, the cream in this- whatever the fuck this is- tastes great. What you call these again?”

"It's called a profiterole," You watched as Toji took a huge bite, licking the cream off the corners of his mouth.

He uses his finger to swipe a small dollop of the cake’s cream onto his fingertips, bringing it closer to your mouth.

“Here, try it for yourself, It’s the best thing I’ve had.”

Does he expect me to suck it off his finger just like that..?

You knew better, this man was a stranger. Should you really be going around casually sucking on men's fingers? “Oh, I don’t know if I should-”

“Don’t leave me hangin’ doll! creams gonna slide off my finger..”

You shyly gabbed onto his hand, sucking the cream off his fingertip. Toji would be lying if he said that a tent didn’t just form in his cargos. He could feel his cock straining against his pants, begging to come out.

"'Atta girl.." Toji purred as he felt your hot mouth wrap around his finger.

He could only imagine what it would be like if you were to suck your own juices off his fingers after they had just been inside you.

This whole time, Sukuna was quietly watching everything unfold. He could feel a tinge of jealousy wash through him, angered at the fact that Toji was all handsy with you, and poor Sukuna couldn’t get a turn.

His index finger left your lips with a pop, his eyes never leaving yours. You heard Sukuna shuffle around with the box, his footsteps coming close to both where you and Toji were.

He gently pushed Toji aside, and unfortunately the raven haired sex fanatic took offense to that, Toji stabbing daggers into the back of Sukuna's head as he replaced his spot.

You shivered as Sukuna slithered his one hand onto your bare leg, the other hand holding another one of the cakes.

"How 'bout you share this one with me? Say ahh.." He brings the cake closer to your face, your face heating up from his hand slowly caressing the velvety skin on your thigh.

You grabbed onto his hand to stop it, "I'm really full, thank you th-"

Sukuna's hand suddenly moved down to your chest, smearing cake all over your blouse. The rest of the cake falling onto your skirt.

You jittered as you felt the cold cream manage to dribble down your sternum behind the fabric, a high pitch gasp escaping your lips out of discomfort.

"Oh my.." he continued with a devilish grin, "My hand slipped."

You gasped, your blouse now all ruined with red velvet cake and buttercream. "It's.. okay.. I'm heading home anyways."

"No, no-“ Toji behind him stepped in, "We gotta do something about that."

You tried to reassure them; using your hands as support to try hop off the table, "Guys, I promise it's nothing seriou-" but unfortunately Sukuna grabs the side of your thighs, setting you back on the table.

"Yeah no," thinking, Sukuna crosses his arms. "We gotta take that top off. In fact, take everything off."

Toji smirked, and let out a laugh. "I agree,"

Sukuna's large hands reached for the buttons of your blouse, pulling the top apart, the remaining fragments thrown to the other side of the garage.

The tiny buttons fly everywhere as you wince at the sight that unfolded before your eyes. You were able to see the evident change in the two men's demeanor as their eyes landed on the black lacy bra that was now on show.

"Ah-" Sukuna cooed, "She got some between her tits. Get this girl some tissue."

Toji walked around the garage in search of a tissue roll, and you watched him like a hawk, using your arms to cover your chest. "Can't seem to find any 'round here.."

Unable to form a sentence, you gape your mouth open at Toji, then to Sukuna.

"Well that's too bad.." he reaches for your arms, pulling them apart to expose your cake-stained chest back to him. “I wouldn’t mind licking it off.”

“Wait- I don’t think that’s-“ you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want this badly right now.

“Shh…” His hands snake down your chest to your abdomen, gently pushing you to lie against the table.

Your nipples go hard due to the contact of your back with the table’s cold surface, luckily they weren’t able to see that.

You felt as Sukuna’s wet tongue touches your stomach, slowly gliding up towards your cleavage that was stained with cream. You gasp, a breathy moan escaping your lips. That was enough to tell them both that you wanted this as much as they did.

You immediately grab onto his hair, and you could feel the smirk form against your skin.

You heard Toji’s footsteps come closer to your side of the table, he was suspiciously quiet for the time being.

Sukuna would only look up at you as he licked off the creamy residue all over your chest. The warmth from his tongue was ticklish, but this scene arousing enough to have a pool form between your legs.

“Think we gotta take this tiny skirt off too..” you felt him roughly grab on your skirt to slide it off, but not strong enough to rip it apart.

You could only clamp your thighs together, as the rest of your garments were stripped of you, the outcome being you all flustered that you were so exposed in-front of the two men.

Sukuna uses his hand to force your legs open, his head moving between your legs.

Until you felt another pair of hands clutch onto your panties and- rip!

You shudder as your bare pussy was met with the cold air of the garage, hoping to feel Sukuna’s warm, wet mouth but you were mistaken.

It was more cake.

Toji had smeared a Victoria-sponge dangerously below your lower abdomen.

Toji could only palm himself through his pants as he watches Sukuna devour the cake that was making its way towards your clit.

His tongue made its way to your dripping hole, slowly fucking into you back and forth.

“T-that feels.. so good..” you breathe out, Sukuna’s cock straining against the fabric of his pants as he heard this.

Unable to watch anymore, Toji stops palming himself through his pants. He makes his way to the box of desserts, disassembling a jam donut, scooping the strawberry glaze into his hands.

Horny, and jealousy filling his body like mad, he walks behind the table where your head was almost hanging off.

He eagerly unzips his cargos with an unoccupied hand, grabbing for his cock that has been nothing but a nuisance to him these past few minutes.

Too busy moaning in pleasure, you looked up to Toji, your vision of him upside down as you were laid against the table.

You could only watch as Toji’s heavy, thick cock slaps against your forehead, his jam covered hand wrapping around the base and making a mess of it on his length.

You felt his hand smear the strawberry residue all over your chest again, which was most likely for Sukuna to be able to lick.

“Better open wide you slut, or else it won’t fit.” You felt Toji’s hand grab onto your jaw, forcing mouth to open wider.

You moan as his cock fills your mouth so full, the sweet jam from the donut coating your taste buds. Toji wraps his hands around your neck, his two thumbs caressing your throat as he fucked his cock into it.

He groans, “Fuck, just like that..” throbbing as he felt the outline of his cock form against the skin of your throat. Squelching noises could only be heard as he staggeringly rut his hips back and forth.

You could hear Toji grunting above you from the sensation of the vibrations going to straight to his cock as you moaned. You felt Sukuna on the other end lapping at your clit, fucking you with two fingers of his fingers at the same time.

Taking a minute to close your eyes, you indulged in the pleasure you were receiving at both ends. At the same time, you were unable to tell who ripped your bra off you.

Toji pulls his cock away from your throat, leaving you to gasp for air. You shut your eyes tightly, disappointed at the empty feeling you were left with. Warm spit trickled down your face, Toji caressing your cheek but only to slap in after.

Toji doesn’t forget to plant a wet kiss on your lips before pulling away. You whimper as he leaves your side, but only this time he starts walking over to Sukuna’s end.

Sukuna pulled away from your dripping holes too, you wince and moan, praying that this isn’t the final moment that they’d have hands on you. You were too scared that the fun was cut short.

Using your elbows to prop yourself up, you watch the two men, speechless. You try to use this opportunity to catch your breath, but your head only falls back down onto the table. You stay sprawled out on the table, looking up at the bright lights of the garage.

“Feel like it’s time to stuff some cock in that pussy, don’t cha think?” Toji speaks, voice raspy from groaning.

“I think so too. But I’m fucking her first,” Sukuna replies.

A disagreeing Toji snaps back. “Nah, I want to.”

“Aren’t you forgetting we can both fuck her at the same time?” Sukuna suggests, your eyes widening at the thought of two men stuffing you full of cock at the same time.

You could almost predict that they could break you into two, and you have no idea how big any of them are yet. You use your elbows to prop yourself up again, your face showing an expression of disbelief. “I- I can’t do that.. I don’t think I can.”

Of course, they'd hardly take that as an answer. “We’ll see that for ourselves.”

You felt Sukuna grab onto your thighs once more, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you towards him. He effortlessly picks you up, carrying you over his shoulder and walking towards what seemed like one of the fire trucks.

You heard a door open, Sukuna placed you onto a longer leather seat that was behind the driver in the truck cab.

Hearing a door open behind you, Toji follows inside, crawling onto the same leather seat. He lays back, hands pumping his cock as he watches you from the other side of the seat.

Dazed, you could only immediately crawl onto Toji’s lap, straddling him. He grins, his hands squeezing onto the soft skin of your tits and fondling as you waited for Sukuna to join.

Sukuna climbs onto the seat but this time behind you. Toji slightly moves his head to the side, taking a peek at Sukuna. Too bad, Sukuna was already busy fucking your ass with one of his fingers, making sure you were ready to be stuffed of his cock.

Jealous, Toji grips onto the doughy skin on your hips, aligning his tip with your dripping cunt before slowly sliding in.

You let out a long string of moans and curses, as you felt his thick length stretch you out as you sink down onto his cock.

“God, you feel so good around my cock. ‘S like your pussy’s made for it.”

Hearing a zip behind you, you disregarded it, as you were still trying to adjust to Toji’s size. This was cut short as you were caught by surprise by Sukuna filling you up with his own cock, this time in your ass. He was thick, but not thick as Toji. Although the length made up for it, you would think that he was all the way in but in reality it was only half.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as both of their cocks were stuffed deeply in both of your holes.

Your hands clutched onto the fabric of Toji’s compression shirt, wrinkling it all together.

Toji placed his soles flat onto the seat, using this support to harshly thrust into you upwards more faster than before as Sukuna behind staggered into you at a more slowed pace. Although he wanted you bad, he made sure to be gentle. He just wanted to indulge every inch of you.

Toji on the other hand, bottomed into you balls deep, his thumb cheekily creeping over to your clit, rubbing in continuous circles as they both fucked into you.

“Fucking slut,” Sukuna spits out, voice shaky as the plush flesh of your ass only clenched around him. “Both holes stuffed full of men’s cocks who you don’t know?”

Sukuna reached for your hair, grabbing a handful and pulling you back against his chest.

You whimpered, snaking one of your hands behind to his nape. Sukuna leaned in for a kiss, only to pepper more down your neck to your collarbone.

Toji kept his pace, which as quite impressive. You moaned back into Sukuna’s cheek, feeling a knot twist and form in the pit of your stomach.

“I-It’s too much- I can’t…” Your hand leaves the back of his neck, moving up higher to clutch on his coral hair as the immense pleasure had only washed through you.

Toji below you speaks, “You think we should let her cum?”

Slapping your face as he started to slow down, he could see you were drunk of their cocks. Fortunately, Sukuna was unable to see this as he was busy behind.

Toji thrusted into you balls deep each time in a consecutive pattern, bullying your cervix as your body jolted up and down along with your tits.

Sukuna moved his hands back down, away from your hair to be able to spread your cheeks apart. Groaning as he watched his cock slip in and out of your ass, he makes a decision. “Fuck, I think so. She’s been such a good girl this whole time.”

Toji grins, his hand moving to your cheek but this time roughly caressing your lip with his thumb. “You hear that doll? He says you were such a good girl.”

You were unable to form a sentence, your brains were fucked out at this point and Toji, wasn’t happy with this.

“Fucking answer me you whore,” surprised, you came back to your senses as Toji slapped your cheek harshly, leaving a red mark on your face.

“..Please, let me cum..” you hiccuped, “I can’t take it anymore.”

You watched Toji flash his same old devilish smile through your tear filled eyes, both of their paces picking up again.

Your moans turned shaky, the slapping of balls against your skin and wet noises filling the taxi cab.

Toji went back to lazily rubbing circles on your clit as both of them fucked you, making sure that you would cum on time with them.

This time, Sukuna’s hand wrapped around your throat, bringing your ear close to his mouth. “You want us to breed you? Is that what you want?”

Lost in a trance, you just went with whatever. You didn’t care anymore, you just wanted to be stuffed full of them forever.

You could only nod, but Sukuna couldn’t take it as an answer.

“Use your words baby, tell me what you want.” His warm breath tickled your ear, Toji’s thrusting making it difficult for you to speak.

You held onto Sukuna’s wrist around your throat, “I want.. both of your cum.. in me..”

Although your hand fell back onto Toji’s shirt as Sukuna gently pushed you back down. You sighed out loud, sobbing quietly as you felt his cock slide out of you.

Toji’s deep thrusts were the only thing you could feel, “Fuck, I’m coming.” He grunted beneath you, until you felt Sukuna’s cock entering the same hole Toji was in.

As you moaned out louder than before, the pleasure too hard to bear. You could feel yourself turning into jelly, your hands wrinkling the fabric of Toji’s shirt once again.

Your voice strained as you felt both of their cocks shoot warm, ropes of cum into you. Your orgasm comes crashing down on you, your chest heaving as Toji’s grip on your waist remained, but Sukuna’s hands slowly lost grip on your hair.

Both of them filled up your hole with seed to the point that it leaked out of you in no time.

Your eyes completely rolled back for tenth time this hour, feeling them both twitch inside of you, the white fluid leaking onto the black leather seats of the truck cab.

Sukuna leaves your hole first, moaning at sight of the generous amounts of cum that dripped down his length to his shaft as he slid out.

Followed by Toji, you could feel his cock slip out too, until his finger made its way back inside, making sure to fuck the escaping load back into you.

Both of them had left their mark in you, stretching you out so fully that no cock in the future can impress you but theirs.

You felt like a total cock sleeve, and your body yearned for more. But honestly, it felt like you were gonna break apart. So maybe next time.

All three of you stayed in the same spots, the windows were now fogged up to the point the entire truck cab smelled of sex.

“I can definitely point out one thing you and ‘em profiteroles have in common.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

[mcmansionhell]

pre-recession, post-taste

Hello, everyone. I hope this blog can bring some well-needed laughs in really trying times. That's why I've gone back into the archives of that precipitous year 2007, a year where the McMansion was sleepwalking into being a symbol of the financial calamity to follow. We return to the Chicago suburbs once more because they remain the highest concentration of houses in their original conditions. Thanks to our flipping predilection, these houses become rarer and rarer and I have to admit even I have developed a fondness for them as a result.

Our present house is ostensibly "French Provincial" in style, which is McMansion for "Chateaux designed by Carmela Soprano". It boasts 7 bedrooms, 8.5 bathrooms, and comes in at a completely reasonable 15,000 square feet. It can be yours for an equally reasonable $1.5 million.

Every 2007 McMansion needed two things: a plethora of sitting rooms and those dark wood floors. This house actually has around five or six sitting rooms (depending if you count the tiled sunroom) but for brevity's sake, I'll only provide two of them.

With regards to the second sitting room, I'm really not one to talk statuary here because beside me there is a bust of Dante where the sculptor made him look simultaneously sickly and lowkey hot.

Technically, if we are devising a dichotomy between sitting and not sitting (yes, I know about the song), the dining room also counts as a sitting room. The more chairs in your McMansion dining room, the more people allegedly like you enough to travel 2.5 hours in traffic to see you twice a year.

Here's the thing about nostalgia: the world as we knew it then is never coming back. In some ways this is sad (kitchens are entirely white now and marble countertops will look terrible in about 3 years) but in other ways this is very good (guys in manhattan have switched to private equity instead of betting the farm on credit default swaps made from junk mortgages proffered to America's most vulnerable and exploited populations.) Progress!

Okay I really don't understand the 50 bed pillows thing. Every night my parents tossed their gazillion decorative pillows on the floor just to put them back on the bed the next morning. Like, for WHAT? Who was going in there? The Pope?

Here's a fun one for your liminal spaces moodboards. (Speaking for myself.)

Yes, I know about skibidi toilet. And sticking out your gyatt for the rizzler. I wish I didn't. I wish I couldn't read. Literacy is like a mirror in which I only see the aging contours of my face.

When your kids move out every room becomes a guest room.

Anyway, let's see what the rear of this house has to offer.

The migratory birds will not forgive them for their crimes. But also seriously, not even a garden?

Anyway, that does it for this round of McMansion Hell. Happy Halloween!

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

I have ~Thoughts~ on the Harry Potter Phenomenon that was

(Courtesy of memories prompted by this Tumblr Poll)

Back when I was a senior in college (back in the mid-to-late 1980s), I actually wrote a fantasy novel for kids aged ~8 - ~11 (in a self-designed course for a single credit, under the guidance of my Literature advisor), inspired by a series of dreams and recurring characters that showed up in them.

My advisor encouraged me to try and get it published. And so, I arranged with teachers from my old school to have a class of 30 or so 10 year-olds beta read it, and give me feedback for revisions. The kids also encouraged me to try and publish it.

So I did.

Now, back then, there was no "Self Publishing." The closest thing was "Vanity Publishing," where you would pay 100% of the publishing cost of your book, which would be printed in hard copy, for the benefit of having 500 -1,000 books shipped to your personal address, which you were then responsible for storing and selling out of the trunk of your car in a parking lot, somewhere. And if word got out that you were trying to claim credit for being a "published author" because of a Vanity Press book, actual publishers wouldn't touch you with a 40-foot pole.

If you wanted to get published, you had to buy that year's copy of Writer's Market: a listing of magazine and book publishers, and agents, with a brief description of what material they published, and what they wouldn't touch.

Guess what genre no agent or publisher was interested in handling?

That's right, Gentle Readers: Fantasy for children aged 8 - 11. I would have happily sent out a dozen queries for each story I wrote, if there were publishers and agents willing to look at them. But for three to four years of trying, in directories of two-columns of tiny print, and several [hundred]* pages long, I'd be lucky to find two or three outlets even willing to look at fantasy for kids.

The general consensus, across the publishing business, was that fantasy was a dead and obsolete genre. If it was for kids old enough to read chapter books and novels, it must also be firmly grounded in realism and actual history, because everyone knows the only people buying books for kids that age were teachers, who wanted stories with practical applications in the classroom.

***

After 3 - 4 years of trying, while I was in grad school, I finally got a rejection from the one agent who agreed to read my novel. A few days later, I received news that my mother had died from the breast cancer she'd been fighting, and my heart just went out of the project altogether.

A few years later, the first Harry Potter book was published. And it became a worldwide phenomenon. And it was the kids, themselves, who were driving the sales.

See, I think the real reason the books were such a success, even though they were never really very well written, was because they were in a genre the audience was hungry for -- a genre they'd been denied access to for all of their young lives.

Someone who is starving will think even moldy bread is delicious.

*Gosh, what a word to leave out via typo; the Writers Market rivaled the Manhattan Yellow Pages in length.

[victoria-secret-r3xies]

hi i really want to actually start like... you know, do you have any advice on how to start and not get unmotivated quickly?

Vanessa's official guide on how to not fuck up at yk what.

(Tw obvi)

Okay first random thing I would recommend is decide what d!3t soda you're going to like, or if you don't like a d!3t soda at all and you actually want to be more like a flavored water girl. Trust me this will just make things easier down the line. I remember at the beginning I was so confused on what to drink so this is so random but I just wanted to put that there so that way you don't end up drinking all your daily c@ls like I did 😭😭

Make sure that if you're trying to make friends here do not try to get a stupid coach. There is no point because these are all just crusty old men you do not need that---there's so many people on this side of Tumblr that are actually nice and we'll talk to you and give advice I promise a old man yelling at you for b!nging isnt gonna fix anything.

Then go on any of the websites online and find your daily c@l intake. If you new to r3$triction I would maybeee do 800-900 a day and work your way down. DW about everyone else f@$ting for weeks just start at like 800-900 a day

For the amount of c@ls your eating, try to make it healthy. Trust me there's a whole bunch of sweet treats that you can get for lower c@|ories then normal ones. And also you need PROTEIN. not SUGAR. (I'm kinda yelling at myself lmao I'm a sweet tooth ignore that pls)

SMOOTHIES. they are so good and you can find hundreds of recipes on the internet!!

READ THE CH|C D|3T. THIS HAS BASICALLY ALMOST EVERYTHING YOU ARE EVER GOING TO NEED. If you do not have a copy to this because basically every single physical copy ever has already been sold because the book is now banned try to find a pdf online for free there is a whole bunch of them if you look enough, but if you're being lazy you can just DM me and I will send you a copy of the Google doc. This has uhh EVERYTHING. But if you're too lazy to read the whole entire thing 100% read the one about "bars" so that way you know which protein bars to get

Speaking of protein bars make sure to always have like one or two in your bag. Just in case you end up feeling really dizzy and you're worried you're going to pass out or something I would have one in your bags that way you can urgently eat it at all times.

F@$t|ng can be good. If you can't get a all to it just used to stop watch on your phone and know that it takes 19 hours for ketosis to start AKA your body starts burning your dumbass f@t. Maybe do more research on this because I'm not 100% an expert on here so feel free to correct me people. I would start with maybe a 12 hour one and work your way up. Don't go past 72 unless ur 100% sure you'll be ok. We don't wanna pass out here that's not good for anyone.

Having a #1 th!NSP0 board or person is something that helped me- idk about you I would just go on Pinterest and look up "Wl motivation" so it doesn't flag you and find something.

MAKE MOOTS. TRUST ME #1 ADVICE HERE.

TAKE YOUR DAMN VITAMINS. No I'm not 100% on what vitamins to take here because I myself literally do not take them because I don't have access to them right now. But I know that there's a whole bunch of people who have actually good information about what kind of vitamins to take so--follow their advice not mine because I don't want to accidentally give you crappy advice

This is like really random but like don't stress if your food isn't like organic or aesthetic looking. Trust me 95% of the time fruit is fruit so if it's not some non-GMO organic fruit I promise you'll probably get almost the same health benefits or whatever from fruit (sorry people who are bitches about only eating organic don't yell at me I know it's a difference)

PVRG!NG DOES NOTHING. DO NOT START IT TRUST ME THERE IS NO BENEFITS TO IT (I'm not judging people who are struggling with it right now don't worry ik where your at I'm trying to stop pvrging rn actually I'm not shaming the m!@ people<3) Ik none of this in general is that good but trust me just thr after effects of pvrging is not worth thr half a pound and 1/6 of the ca!s you got rid of

That's about all I have right now. Maybe I'll make a part two

Xoxo ,

Vanessa 🤍🪽

[zephyrchama]

The Most Popular Book

(Obey Me! brothers and reader)

"Oh? Levi, what are you doing in here?"

Asmodeus had just returned home after a long, busy day. Brand name bags adorned his arm and he still had sunglasses on. While en route to his own room, the surprised demon happened to find your bedroom door wide open. The person brazenly rummaging around inside was not you, but Leviathan.

The Avatar of Envy was opening drawers, sliding his hands across shelves, and turning everything over. He jumped at being caught, but quickly regained composure upon seeing who it was, and with clear annoyance said, "I left my charger in here and can't find it."

Exhausted but never one to pass up on quality bonding time, Asmodeus decided to make this his business, too. "Should you really be in here when they're not home? Won't they get mad?"

"I'm just getting my charger and leaving, that's it." Leviathan was grumpier than usual when his D.D.D. battery ran out. He started sifting through your bed sheets for the lost cable, tossing pillows onto the floor and dragging the blanket off in case you used it and the cord had been tucked in somewhere.

Amid the plush bedding, something hard audibly hit the carpet. Leviathan and Asmodeus both turned towards it, expecting to find the square end of a plug. Instead, the culprit was an unassuming little book that had fallen out of your pillowcase.

"Is that a dirty book?" Asmodeus asked in delight. "Hurry and open it, I wanna see what they're into."

"I don't think so? It's not flashy, there's nothing on the back. Don't those usually have pictures all over?" Leviathan picked it up and turned the unassuming tome over. "Nothing on the front, either."

He cracked it open to a random page, spent five seconds reading it, and had all color drain from his face. He slammed the book shut with both hands and tried to shove it back in the pillowcase. "I-i-it's nothing. This is nothing. I think I'm done, I'll find my c-c... cabl... I'll find it later."

This would not fly with Asmodeus. This just made him more curious. "What is it?"

Asmodeus lunged and snatched the pillow from out of Leviathan's hands, who was still too stunned to react properly. All he could do was protest loudly as Asmodeus victoriously retrieved the mystery book and opened it.

He squealed. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Put it back! Idiot!" Leviathan shouted.

No commotion in the House of Lamentation could go unnoticed for long. Other residents were already on their way to scold them for being loud. Belphegor and Satan were the first to arrive, disgruntled that their meeting in the library had been disturbed.

"Can you keep it down?" the youngest reprimanded. "We're in the middle of something."

"I can't hear myself think over your nonsense," Satan added. However, he was quick to notice how unusual it was for the Avatar of Lust to be reading of his own accord. Not a magazine, but an actual book was in Asmodeus' grip. This piqued Satan's interest. "What do you have there?"

"Nothing," Leviathan insisted. His desperate attempts to pilfer it from Asmodeus made it very clear that this was not 'nothing.'

"You're not going to believe this," Asmodeus giggled.

Beelzebub, Mammon, and Lucifer just so happened to come around the corner at the same time. Beelzebub, who had been doing his own thing l, was glad to see where his twin had gone off to and stayed silent to watch the mess unfold.

Mammon was acting like a high and mighty big brother ready to punish his silly little siblings for acting out. He had an oddly serious air about him. He was followed closely by Lucifer, who had been in the middle of lecturing Mammon and wanted to quickly get back to that punishment. They arrived right in time to hear Asmodeus announce, "Levi found a diary!"

It took mere seconds for everyone to put two and two together - a diary was found. They were in your room. It obviously belonged to none other than you. It appeared you were actively using this diary. The diary they now had access to.

"Hey now! Give me that!" Mammon commanded, shouldering past Satan to confiscate the diary. His ears were pink. "What are you all thinkin'? You're not s'pposed to be lookin' at that!"

Belphegor was quick to quip, "I suppose you want us to give it to you for safe keeping?"

"That's right!" Mammon nodded. "I'll hold on to this until they come home so none of you can read it."

"And you'll get to read it all by yourself. You're so obvious." Satan crossed his arms and glared at Mammon, who shrugged.

Lucifer was next to pluck it from Mammon's grip. "If anyone is holding on to this for safe keeping, it will be me."

"We should put it back where it was," Beelzebub said. "That way, they won't find out and get embarrassed. Or mad."

Leviathan latched on to this idea quickly. "Yes! Exactly! Beel's right! Let's just put it back!" He shook the pillowcase, ready to put things back to how they were, eager for this situation to end.

"What were you doing in here to begin with?" Lucifer asked, full of suspicion. He eyed the messy shelves and floor. "You know this room is off-limits when they're not home."

"Yeah, Levi! What's wrong with you?" Mammon shouted, glad to pin blame on somebody else for once.

"I was looking for my charger! That's it! Perfectly innocent!" Leviathan insisted.

Lucifer sighed and said, "you should have waited for them to return. Now look at this mess. I expect you to clean this all up before-"

"Hey, Satan! No fair!" Asmodeus yelled. At some point during the verbal squabble, Satan had managed to get his fingers on the coveted book and was now skimming its pages covered in your handwriting. Lucifer narrowed his eyes and frowned as a menacing disposition took hold.

"We should read it together," Belphegor said as Mammon tackled Satan to the ground in an attempt to wrestle the diary away. "Somebody read it aloud to us."

"No! We couldn't possibly...!" Leviathan's resolve was wavering. "Could we...? No! We shouldn't... Unless they wrote something about me? Maybe?"

"We should put it back," Beelzebub repeated, squeezing his hands together nervously. "I don't think they want us reading that. If they want us to know something, they would just tell us."

Nobody was paying attention because at the same time, in between punches to the face, Satan confirmed that, "they wrote about all of us. I don't know what, though."

Belphegor and Asmodeus jumped into the fray, wanting to get their hands on it at any cost. Who knew what could be written about them inside of that book? Belphegor grabbed Satan from the back as Asmodeus kicked Mammon's leg aside, trying to snatch the tome from above. Mammon snarled and proclaimed, "That diary's mine! Y'hear? All mine!"

One by one, demon forms began to take over. Your possessions scattered around the room and rolled under the bed as tails and leathery wings whipped through the air. The edges of your diary got dented and the page edges became scratched, even though whoever was in possession of it at any given time was fiercely protective of it.

Belphegor had the book pressed against his chest and was curled defensively around it while Lucifer picked him up and shook the youngest brother like an empty bag. Beelzebub did not like this. He side-stepped over Leviathan, who was preoccupied with attempting to bite Lucifer's ankle and shake Mammon off his tail, and body-checked the eldest into dropping his twin. Asmodeus and Satan were ready and waiting, clawing to reclaim the diary.

Everyone was howling and shouting in the world's most violent game of keep-away. It was a jarring sight. You froze in your tracks at the doorway. Limbs tangled together, feathers and scales flew everywhere, there were several fresh dents in the floor. A really powerful "stay" was going to be needed if you were to put a stop to the situation. At the very least, it was going to be a doozy to write about in your diary.