#I made many brand new emotes

[silvermoonshipping-is-love]

To all you SilvernMoon shippers/Gaming Creepypasta enjoyers, especially mutuals or followers of this blog, I still have the Discord open for ya'll, it may be on dire life support but maybe we can fully revive it!

Rules for joining: 1. You got to have a discord account (duh)

2. You gotta at least tolerate the ships I ship, because it's my server, especially SilvernMoonShipping, if you don't like it, I'm just giving you the chance to run away now because this server is not for you. (You may read up on my ships in the pinned post, also I am NOT a multishipper, and do NOT wish to see ships different from my OTPs for personal reasons)

3. This isn't a general creepypasta server, but rather a gaming creepypasta server, I don't care for most non-gaming ones or even find them annoying or uncomfortable characters. So be aware of that, this is meant for mainly specifically gaming creepypasta fans (I do enjoy some non-gaming ones too, but plz consider that there are so many other general creepypasta fans and such out there and I happen to not be one)

4. No one under the age of 16!

5. Not a FNF server.

Would love to have you there!

[atsukunaritai]

「つうか、みっちゃんが一番好きだ。」

「俺が死ぬまで一番。」

— Actually, you're number one for me, Micchan.

— You're number one until the day I die.

永遠の昨日　第３・８話　　　　　　　|　　　　　　　Eternal Yesterday ep. 3&8

[thymewayster]

Really good Twitter thread originally about Elon Musk and Twitter, but also applies to Netflix and a lot of other corporations.

Full thread. Text transcription under cut.

John Bull @garius

One of the things I occasionally get paid to do by companies/execs is to tell them why everything seemed to SUDDENLY go wrong, and subs/readers dropped like a stone. So, with everything going on at Twitter rn, time for a thread about the Trust Thermocline /1

So: what's a thermocline?

Well large bodies of water are made of layers of differing temperatures. Like a layer cake. The top bit is where all the the waves happen and has a gradually decreasing temperature. Then SUDDENLY there's a point where it gets super-cold.

That suddenly is important. There's reasons for it (Science!) but it's just a good metaphor. Indeed you may also be interested in the "Thermocline of Truth" which a project management term for how things on a RAG board all suddenly go from amber to red.

But I digress. The Trust Thermocline is something that, over (many) years of digital, I have seen both digital and regular content publishers hit time and time again. Despite warnings (at least when I've worked there). And it has a similar effect. You have lots of users then suddenly... nope. And this does effect print publications as much as trendy digital media companies. They'll be flying along making loads of money, with lots of users/readers, rolling out new products that get bought. Or events. Or Sub-brands.

And then SUDDENLY those people just abandon them. Often it's not even to "new" competitor products, but stuff they thought were already not a threat. Nor is there lots of obvious dissatisfaction reported from sales and marketing (other than general grumbling). Nor is it a general drift away, it's just a sudden big slide. So why does this happen? As I explain to these people and places, it's because they breached the Trust Thermocline.

I ask them if they'd been increasing prices. Changed service offerings. Modified the product.

The answer is normally: "yes, but not much. And everyone still paid" Then I ask if they did that the year before. Did they increase prices last year? Change the offering? Modify the product?

Again: "yes, but not much."

The answer is normally: "yes, but not much. And everyone still paid." "And the year before?"

"Yes but not much. And everyone still paid."

Well, you get the idea. And here is where the Trust Thermocline kicks in. Because too many people see service use as always following an arc. They think that as long as usage is ticking up, they can do what they like to cost and product.

And (critically) that they can just react when the curve flattens But with a lot of CONTENT products (inc social media) that's not actually how it works. Because it doesn't account for sunk-cost lock-in.

Users and readers will stick to what they know, and use, well beyond the point where they START to lose trust in it. And you won't see that. But they'll only MOVE when they hit the Trust Thermocline. The point where their lack of trust in the product to meet their needs, and the emotional investment they'd made in it, have finally been outweighed by the physical and emotional effort required to abandon it. At this point, I normally get asked something like:

"So if we undo the last few changes and drop the price, we get them back?"

And then I have to break the news that nope: that's not how it works.

Because you're past the Thermocline now. You can't make them trust you again.

[prefrontal-bastard]

I’m not sure if this is permitted in other countries, but here in the US, advertisers are allowed to use any kind of malignant psychology they want in their ads so long as those ads fit within the allotted time-frame.

Back in high school, my class watched a video on how a certain Coca-Cola advertisement was made. You may have seen it, but for those who haven’t: The ad featured a cinematic montage of a crowded beach with smiling thin white people enjoying their leisure time and drinking Coca-Cola out of a common plastic bottle.

The big takeaway from this video was that the ad wasn’t actually advertising Coca-Cola. It was advertising a lifestyle. By associating Coca-Cola with a desirable lifestyle (as well as qualities associated with desirability) it plants the association of “Coca-Cola” with “happiness” in people’s subconscious minds.

This becomes clear when you consider who the ad was meant for. The target audience wasn’t the smiling thin white people that the ad featured, but instead it was people who wanted to be smiling thin white people. This was an ad for the Gen X mom of three kids who worked full-time, who relied on shelf-stable foods to keep everyone fed, and whose nervous system was chronically fried from the stress of never having adequate time for herself.

If she was at the grocery store, and saw the very same bottle of Coca-Cola featured in that ad, she’d be far more likely to pick it up than she was before watching it. If she didn’t anticipate finding relief for her stress, then she could at least drink up the idea of it.

Of course, the thing about ads is that they stop working. Eventually, people’s minds grow wise to the fact buying a certain product doesn’t actually grant them the lifestyle associated with them.

But there’s a lot of other tricks ads employ beyond this.

The reason why Geico is the first company you consider when thinking about buying car insurance is because of the calm, consistent nature of their ads and the fact they’re ubiquitous enough to be familiar. Their mascot forms a kind of parasocial rapport with the audience, so Geico already feels familiar to you by the time you’re looking to buy insurance.

Cereal brands use cartoon-character-like mascots to make their product memorable to kids who can’t read. The reason why so many cereal mascots exhibit such frenetic, possessive behavior is to teach kids to emulate that behavior to compel parents into buying them the cereal, especially if they saw that behavior rewarded in the ad (with the cereal).

You only really see ads for apps on an app-based devices for a reason.

Then there are the ads that don’t look like ads, but look like people on TikTok sharing a new secret product with their audience using the only communication format we regularly trust: word-of-mouth.

And let’s not forget the sheer magnitude of ads that exist. I can’t go outside without seeing them. I can’t watch videos online without exposing myself to ads that wants to skewer my emotions within 10 seconds.

There’s no reprieve from it unless I wall myself off from our culture entirely.

Ads are parasites to both culture and to cognition, and they must be regulated.

[iris-qt]

𝟻 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛

✧ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✧ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

✧ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ | 3.1ᴋ

✧ ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ @girllblogging777 ꜰᴏʀ ᴀꜱᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰᴀᴠ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛʏ ʙᴏʏ

✧ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴀ ʙᴇᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɢɪᴠᴇꜱ ʜɪ�� 5 ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ. ʜᴇ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ꜱᴇᴇᴍꜱ ᴛᴏ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴜᴘᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.

Day 0

If dying of embarrassment were a thing, Mattheo Riddle would be deceased.

“In Potions, I think I saw you actually drooling over her, mate.”

Enzo chuckles at Theodore’s quip, adding, “I knew it was bad, but not that bad.”

Mattheo groans, hiding his face in his hands as the three boys are sat around a table in the Slytherin common room, the flames of the fire dying out at the later hour, gentle rain tapping the low windows that offer an inky view of the Black Lake.

“She answered a question no one knew the answer to. You have to admit, that’s pretty impressive,” Mattheo says desperately, raising his head from the table, hoping for a glimpse of sympathy from his friends.

All it succeeds in doing, however, is inciting further fits of laughter from them.

“With friends like you guys, who needs enemies,” Mattheo lowly mutters, crossing his arms and glaring.

“No, but since when were you into smart girls, Riddle?” Enzo asks in between laughs.

Mattheo sighs, leaning back in his seat. He gazes over at his faint reflection in the low windows, lost in thought. The truth is, Lorenzo made a good point. Mattheo was always into girls that would give him their undying attention and a few nights of fun. Then, he’d move on. It was a mutual understanding between them. He’d never truly play with their emotions, but he’d make his intentions clear. 

Take it or leave it.

And usually they’d take it. 

But you were truly something else. A genius on the pitch and in the classroom. Academic and athletic weapon, not to mention your biting humor that always seemed to make his heart beat faster.

“Tell you what, Matt. Let us help you,” Theodore leans forward, traces of amusement still evident on his face.

Mattheo raises an eyebrow at Theodore’s offer, waiting for him to continue.

“I propose a deadline. You have 5 days to ask her out before the Hogsmeade trip on Saturday.”

Mattheo sighs, his gaze settling suspiciously on the smiling boys.

“And if I fail?”

“You buy us as many sweets from Honeydukes as we desire,” Enzo grins, “and you know how much I love candy..”

Mattheo stands up, choosing to create an air of confidence around him, although he’s panicking about the prospect of confessing to you. 

“You have yourself a deal, boys.”

Day 1

His plan to confess as soon as possible so as not to feel the desperation of losing time reached a roadblock as Mattheo woke up remembering he had a Quidditch game that morning.

Against your house. (sorry slytherin readers forgive me)

He didn’t want you to be in a bad mood from a loss, but he also didn’t want to seem like a loser in your eyes. He would never be one to lose purposefully, as he knew you’d loathe that, so Mattheo resolved to play fair.

The game progressed onwards as his house took the lead, but he had to admit he wasn’t much help despite his efforts. Seeing your hair flowing in the wind against the lush green hills, your determined face, your shining skin…it was distracting to say the least..

Suddenly, you loop upwards, narrowly avoiding a bludger that zooms past you and heads straight towards Mattheo.

He barely avoids it, the bludger chipping away part of his brand new broomstick.

“Shit..”

“Keep your head in the game, Riddle,” you smirk, flying up next to him.

“Hard when those bludgers are attempting to behead me,” he grins back. Talking to his favorite person was his new favorite hobby, even if you could be intending to insult him..

You ended up catching the snitch and winning your house this integral game, shooting your team to the House Cup Finals. You landed on the grass, smiling gleefully, your face glistening with triumph and sweat despite the quite chilly weather.

Mattheo landed on the ground next to you, grinning at your expression. He wholeheartedly thought you deserved this win. He’d seen you practicing at the crack of dawn and the fall of the moon. He knew how hard you worked as captain. He saw you on his morning walks, and from the towers of Hogwarts when he’d smoke over the rail, watching your figure shooting through the air in the velvet darkness.

Lost in the ecstasy of the atmosphere, Mattheo resolved to let his feelings be known right then and there. What greater chance for you to agree to a date when your spirits were raised so high?

He approached you, broom in hand, and you turned around to look at him with an ecstatic grin on your face; one he couldn’t resist to mirror.

“Good game, Riddle,” you stuck your hand out, slightly sympathetic for the boy’s loss despite his oddly bright expression.

“Good game, y/l/n. I actually wanted to ask you something..” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck. Despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins, nerves were slowly eating away at his windpipe, restricting him from choking out the words he’d desired to tell you.

But he had resolved to do it.

And Mattheo Riddle was many things, but not a coward.

You raised your eyebrow at him, waiting for him to speak further.

“I was wondering if you would go with-”

He was interrupted by your surprised yelp and laugh of joy as your teammates lifted you to their shoulders, yelling and cheering your name. 

You put your hands up in victory, the golden snitch still struggling in your grip.

“We’ll talk later, Mattheo!” you shout at him, waving your hands to get his attention. 

Not that you had to.

You had forever stolen his gaze.

Day 2

So, his original strategy had proved to be a failure. The whole of yesterday, your house wouldn’t leave you alone. When you took a quick trip to the hospital wing to patch up some quick little cuts, your housemates followed you, cheering. When you were walking through the halls, you were surrounded by at least 8 congratulating classmates. In the night, you were at the party celebrating your win. Always busy.

Mattheo never got the chance to just confess as soon as possible, but no matter. This was just day 2, and he still had plenty of time. He had put up with more of his friends’ teasing regarding his harbored crush, but he’d be willing to brave the storm of his friends’ jabs if it meant eventually seeing it die away when he finally had you by his side.

If you’d accept him that is..

He groaned as he walked through the busy halls of Hogwarts during a break period. 

Love was too hard.

He walked into the courtyard to find his friends, but his eyes immediately landed on you. You were quickly skimming a Potion’s textbook, no doubt studying for the sudden test that had been sprung on by Slughorn. He can’t imagine you had much time to study due to the match and celebrations. It was unlike you to look so harried and unprepared. 

He knew this couldn’t be the right time, but he had to test the waters. Perhaps you were still in a good mood?

What he didn’t know was that you’d always be happy to see him. Even if you were having a meltdown, you'd grin at the sight of him.

And that’s exactly what happened.

Mattheo walked up to you, smoothly sliding onto the stone bench beside you. He was immediately met with your smiling face as your attention was diverted from the book.

“Y/N unprepared for a test? Never thought I’d see the day,” he nudged your shoulder playfully with his own as you gave him a mock glare.

“I’m hoping I’ll suddenly procure a photographic memory and just capture the words on this textbook in my brain,” you say, putting the book super close to your eyes as you pretend to absorb all the knowledge.

Mattheo laughs, “I wish I could help but I’m not the best person to ask for, well, any school subjects, to be honest.”

You snickered as you regarded him, eyes alight. 

“Oh yeah, what was it you were trying to ask me on the pitch yesterday?”

Well, he couldn’t back down now.

“I was just wondering if you’d like-”

“Y/N!!!” your best friend comes running through the halls toward you, waving a bundle of parchment with hastily written words. “I just took the Potions test and this is what's on it.”

Your eyes widen in delight as you peer over at her parchment. Your attention being completely drawn away, Mattheo gets up with a sigh and stalks off toward his friends, feeling dejected.

He doesn’t notice the sorry glance you throw his way, upset that his words got interrupted once more.

Day 3

You couldn’t sleep that night and you awoke feeling puffy and down. It seemed as if Mattheo Riddle had been avoiding you the rest of yesterday and you knew it was because he had something to say to you but kept getting interrupted. 

Something important to tell you and something that made him nervous.

That couldn’t mean…

Of course not.

But you’ve had feelings for him for a long time, and the prospect that he could feel the same excited you. Perhaps you should cave first and confess because if that’s what the poor boy had been attempting, after being interrupted twice you doubted he had the guts to do it again. Besides, it’d be a weight lifted from your heart. 

You knew he took early morning walks as he’d often retell his experiences to you when you used to sit next to him in class:

“...and then this bigass bird took a fat shit on McLaggen’s head, and that's when I knew it was going to be a glorious day,” he finished proudly, smiling.

“Now, that’s a good omen if I’ve ever heard of one,” you grinned as you both indulged in quiet laughter, hidden at the back of the History of Magic Classroom.

Who knew such a dull class would quickly become your favorite.

He must’ve not taken a walk today because you couldn’t find him. 

Now, cruel fate had moved him as far away as possible in that classroom with no chance to sneak a quick conversation in. He seemed quite upset today in the one class you’d seen him in, keeping his head low and dozing off a few times. Twice you’d seen him steal a glance at you then look away abruptly.

You found him later that day, walking through the dark hallways after dinner. It was quiet and empty as the rest of the students had made their way to their common rooms or the library. He was looking down and was wiping something from his nose with the back of his hand. It looked like…

Blood.

“Riddle?” you called out softly, and his ebony eyes trained on you in a panic.

He had never intended for you to ever see him like this. Dejected and bleeding.

You stand there, hugging yourself amidst the chills of the vast, stone halls, clinging onto your sweater. 

“A fight?”

He nods, not being able to meet your eyes.

You gently grab his arm, beginning to pull him in the direction of the Hospital Wing. Maybe you could confess in there while he was getting patched up, although that may not be the best time for it. 

Perhaps now to lighten the mood of this awkward walk?

If he rejects you, at least teasing you about it would make him more cheerful.

“Hey, Mattheo…I just wanted to let you know that-”

Before you could get very far, however, a bloodied Gryffindor boy strides toward you guys, calling Riddle’s name in an icy tone. 

You both whirl around, and Riddle grits his teeth, upset to see the boy he had just fought with.

“You thought you could just escape?” the boy stops 7 feet away, balling up his fists

“You were out cold, so yeah, I assumed I could.”

“Rematch, Riddle.”

He looks back at you, something glistening in his eyes.

“Go, y/l/n.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes, “You think I’m just gonna leave you here, bleeding?”

“Go.”

You realize there’s no stopping this fight and, frankly, you didn’t want to see Mattheo beating someone up. You walk straight to the nearest professor’s quarters and alert them of the fight, framing it so it sounds like Mattheo was ambushed and simply fought back as self-defense. After doing so, you slip into your room, lying awake, hoping he’s ok.

Day 4

Mattheo was cutting it close, but this week had been a doozy. He hoped today would be an ordinary day in which he could finally, peacefully confess his vibrant feelings for you.

That morning, Mattheo finds you in the library next to a stack of mythology books. He walks up, a smile already forming on his face at the familiar sight of your gorgeous, focused face.

“I wasn’t aware there was a Mythology class at Hogwarts,” he smiles, leaning against your table. His face was covered in cuts and bruises while his nose seemed haphazardly bandaged.

You look up at him disapprovingly, eyes tracing his injuries.

“It's called reading for fun, Mattheo. You should try it sometimes.”

“No, thank you.”

You shot him a sardonic smile, leaning back in your chair.

“Listen, y/n, I wanted to thank you for shifting the blame off of me for the fight but-”

“No problem, I had to do something,” you shrug.

“But…I could’ve handled it myself. You tainted my reputation and it made me seem like I’m weak and scared of authority.”

You raise an eyebrow, a look of disbelief blossoming on your face.

“You’re seriously annoyed with me for helping you NOT get in trouble?” you stand up from your seat staring him in the eye. “Your stupid pride and reputation is worth more than that?”

He furrows his brows, perplexed by your reaction.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he sighs. “My reputation is all I have” is what he meant to share, but vulnerability was not his strong point.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t,” you stand up, grabbing your books, and walk out, not looking back once.

Mattheo watches you go, feeling as if whatever grip he had on you had lessened. He could feel you falling through his fingers.

Day 5 ₊˚ෆ

Mattheo would’ve accepted his defeat if this was any other bet. Confessing to y/n was a harder task than it seemed. 

The thing is, this wasn’t any other bet, and Mattheo Riddle was as adamant as ever to let you know how he felt about you. Being in your presence was a hot bowl of soup on a sick day. It was a warm glass of spiced butterbeer after playing in the snow. It was a blanket after being warmed by the fire. It was a comfort he never allowed himself to indulge in.

He wanted it in a stronger dose. He needed the comfort of a relationship with you. And today, he intended to get it. 

He awoke early as usual since he couldn’t sleep past six: his thoughts always woke him up far too early. Getting dressed and heading outside, he sees you reading your mythology books under a big oak tree, bundled up in a deep grey trench coat. As he approached with his silent steps and hands in his pockets, he realized it was Norse mythology today. Despite him acting clueless, he also enjoyed reading myths for fun.

He stopped a few feet away from you and you looked up unsurprisingly, as if you knew he was approaching the entire time. With a quick glance at the empty spot next to you, you signal Mattheo to join you in the misty morning air. You couldn’t help but feel as if this replicated the foggy morning scene in one of your favorite movies, Pride and Prejudice.

He settled next to you, shoulders touching.

“I hope a bigass bird shits on your head,” you murmur in a playful tone, recalling his tale, looking at him with a fake gleam of scorn in your eyes. Not entirely fake as you were quite annoyed about yesterday night in the library.

He laughs at that, tilting his head to look at you in all your morning glory.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he whispers, looking at you with utter adoration, although you don’t characterize it as such. “I just…I feel as if my reputation is all I have.”

He looks away at that, across the grounds, embarrassed to admit anything so close to his heart.

You nod understandingly, touching his pinky with your own.

“We’re cool, Riddle.”

He takes a deep breath and keeps barreling on, ready to confess to you and pour out his heart. 

“Listen, y/n. I kept getting interrupted but I-”

“RIDDLE!” Draco is making his way towards them, looking frantic. You and Mattheo both stand up, looking concerned at his expression. He wears cloak with the hood up and looks panicked, striding towards them in a half run until he is standing before them, panting.

“What happened, what's wrong?” Mattheo urges, shaking Draco’s shoulders.

Draco yanks off his hood to reveal his baby pink hair and you and Mattheo stare at him for a moment.

And then burst out laughing.

“Do you know who did this?” Draco is fuming, balling his fists as he glares at the both of you.

“No, mate, but you have yourself a nemesis,” Mattheo says, gasping for breath. Draco grabs his arm beginning to pull him away, muttering something about helping him get revenge. You’re not letting Mattheo get away again, so you grab his other arm, engaging in a game of tug-of-war. Mattheo shakes off Draco and shoos him off with a wave of his hand and a small glare as Draco gives in and walks away, sulking.

“Where were we?”

“You were on a vulnerability rampage,” you smirk, releasing your grip much to his displeasure.

He smiles shyly as he looks off into the distance, finding your gaze a burning sensation. 

“I really, really like you, y/n. And I’ve been trying to let you know for a while now.

You smile as you angle your neck to force Mattheo to look into your eyes. 

Oh, how you loved his ebony doe eyes.

“Well, it’s a good thing I really like you too, Mattheo.”

And Mattheo Riddle grinned as he finally had the girl of his dreams, and they both engaged in an all-out rampage of Honeydukes, paid for by Lorenzo and Theodore, of course.

[gunpowderdtim]

Pov you are Aurora. You were a kid and your biological mom was exploded maybe so then you're nothing. You're a baby moon during some form of planet changing event and you're all alone. Then this woman shows up and she's also all alone. Or well. She has a wife. So they're your moms now. But loreli is an abusive woman and probably not all that enthused about having a moon daughter.

She's still your mom tho

Then carmilla kills/whatever/breaks up with/???'s loreli and like. What the fuck your mom ???'d your other mom and you run away probably. And then you're kidnapped and have all your organs scooped about Micheal Afton style and it sucks because no one acknowledges you're sentient and you're cut apart and repurposed to being a starship. And that shit sucks you can hardly think right anymore and it hurts

And then your mom comes back!!! Her shitty new son saved you (she REPLACED YOU..) but it's okay now you're not with Them you're with Mom and Stupid Fucking Jonny Who Replaced You And Sucks Fuck Him (your jealous she can hold him)

And then there is Nastya. Who by all rights you Fucking Hate at first because She Is The Princess Of The People Who Stole Your Fucking Organs but she talks to you. She's quiet and smart and so pretty and she fixes things that break sometimes and AAAAA. You're gay. You love her. You love her. You love her.

And things happen.

So many things happen.

You're fixed so many times and different ways that your unrecognizable. You're thousands of years older but also like. You're a moon so time doesn't really work the same because you're a fucking moon

Made of flesh

And also some metal but that's fine now because none of it is The Same Metal and you can carry everyone you love safely inside you and sure you've probably rationalized away a lot of the scary horrors of having every drop of agency you had taken away and replaced with engines that often need repair and shit

But like

You're fine

So anyway you've been fixed and changed and repainted and you like it this way. It's your body.

And then your lovely girlfriend goes "I fucking hate this. You're not the same [person] you were 10 thousand years ago"

And like of course you're not. You want to scream. You can control your own course. You're not branded by Them on every plate. You're not a Cyberian Vessel you're just Aurora. You're a moon made of flesh and emotion and self. You're the most you you have been since your moms divorce murdered eachother and you ran away

And Nastya says you've changed. And that you can't work. And then she's gone. Out.

And you're not alone this time.

But she is.

And she's gone.

Just gone.

[anto-pops]

Possessive Touch - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: Sebastian has never been the sharing sort. He was happy to loan people notes or quills, maybe even the occasional book from the Restricted Section. But not you. Never you. 

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian acting incredibly possessive after watching you hug someone else and then staking his claim on you the only way he can.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, possessive behavior, rough sex, yandere!Sebastian

Locked away in my drafts for months and unearthed by this ask I received. Everyone say thank you anon

Full fic can also be found here on Ao3 (with better tags as usual)

There were a number of words you could use to describe Sebastian Sallow. He was smart, loyal, and daring, to name a few. As brave as any Gryffindor and as insightful as any Ravenclaw, he had many positive attributes that you found to be remarkable. But every coin had two sides, and as much as you admired his more positive attributes, he could also be equally callous, brash, and vindictive when circumstances called for it. His moods fluctuated frequently and gave you whiplash half the time, because more often than not– despite it being accidental– you had a tendency to be the root cause of his emotional turbulence. 

You hadn’t meant for your conversation with Ominis to last for so long, much less for it to cut into your allotted study time with your boyfriend. The Gaunt scion had, in a moment of weakness, confided in you about the burdens of his personal life with a kind of desolate demeanor that tugged at your heartstrings and made you genuinely feel bad for him. You had lent him your ear for nearly an hour, and eventually your shoulder as he came to rest his head against it to embrace you in thanks. It was simply you comforting a friend; offering him a brief moment of reprieve from the dreary thoughts that had plagued him for Merlin knew how long before the two of you had gone your separate ways. Nothing more, nothing less. 

It had apparently looked like something more to Sebastian, though. He had been watching from the end of the Dark Arts Tower corridor with narrowed eyes, jealousy burning in his veins as he took in the sight of his girlfriend holding his former best friend in a manner he deemed reserved for him and him alone. You didn’t know how much of the exchange he had actually witnessed, but all that mattered was that he had seen the two of you hugging. Wracked with a silent yet palpable fury, Sebastian had dragged you down the steps of the Undercroft before tossing you into the room without a second thought, your protests and justifications falling on deaf ears. 

A new word came to mind to describe Sebastian shortly thereafter. One that scared you as much as it excited you. 

Possessive. 

His fingers had branded you as he’d stripped you bare, pressing and pulling incessantly against your clothes until you were clad in nothing but your undergarments and left shivering under the intensity of his stare. He had stretched you out along the cool stone floor, his hands holding you down without a measure of care while he touched whatever parts of you he could reach. Your breasts were tender and sore by now– no doubt covered with tiny fingertip sized bruises from the sheer strength of his groping. His breathing was heavy and tinged with the occasional grunt when he shifted his hips over yours, the telling bulge in his trousers more than likely causing him discomfort, but he paid it no mind as he took his time focusing on you. An unmistakable wetness had gathered between your legs despite the depravity, and as much as you wanted to clench your knees together to ease the rampant ache there, Sebastian’s own leg between yours prevented you from doing so. 

He was toying with you, that much was certain, and he was enjoying every blasted second of it. 

In response to your absentminded squirming, Sebastian moved so his knee was nestled directly against your core, the sudden pressure causing you to gasp and arch beneath him. He took advantage of your closer proximity and looped his arm under your back, holding you flush to him with a desperate sort of yearning that made you dizzy, and the way he inhaled your scent before groaning was almost primal.

A choked moan slipped from your lips as Sebastian ducked his head into the crook of your neck to bite and suck fervently, the pain laced pleasure blinding you to his true motives, but not for long. There was no doubt in your hazy mind that he was behaving so brutishly in some attempt to remind you of who you belonged to. Leaving visible marks would only further his intentions, and you found yourself whimpering as you trembled against the floor. 

After he bestowed a particularly playful nip against your marked flesh, Sebastian sat back on his haunches to admire his handiwork, taking in the sight of you dazed beneath him. You made quite the pretty picture; skin flushed, hair mussed, and an eclectic assortment of finger shaped lesions decorating your neck, breasts, and thighs. The knowledge that they had been put there by him only appealed to him more, and Sebastian hummed appreciatively at the sight. 

You, on the other hand, were coiled tighter than a spring. The Slytherin man had been edging you like this for what seemed like an eternity, but it realistically could only have been half an hour or so. Time was something of an illusion at present, and all you could truly focus on was your ardent need for release. The fiery sensation that stayed stubbornly aflame in your lower stomach was beginning to drive you mad, and you gazed longingly up at Sebastian, who in turn bit his lip at your watery stare. 

“Please, Sebastian,” you implored him, voice catching. His hands trailed down your chest and over your pert nipples before eventually settling on either side of your waist. Then with a grip tighter than Devil’s Snare, he tugged you harder against his knee with a wicked smile, forcing a low groan from your throat in response to the friction that he seemed to revel in. “Please.”

“I don’t know what you’re begging for,” he admonished in a low voice. “You’re going to have to be more specific, darling.”

Fuck, he was still upset. That much was obvious to you. It was evident in his tone, in the way his fingers dug sharply into the skin of your lower back– but mostly it was his eyes. The usual spark that danced behind his irises when he was with you was dull, and his gaze was anything but soft. It was hard and unyielding, cold and unfeeling. You were going to have to talk your way out of this one. 

Licking your chapped lips, you did your best to still your writhing as you grit through your teeth, “I need you. I can’t take any more of this, please Sebastian.” 

Both of his hands left your waist then. One of them braced flat against the floor to support himself while the other curled under your neck, pulling your head off of the ground to press your forehead against his own. The unrelenting pressure against your cunt didn’t lessen as he hunched over you and forced you to stare directly into those dark, greedy eyes of his, and you whimpered pitifully beneath him as he took in the delicious expression you bore. “Is it really me you need, or would any man do, hm? Should I fetch Ominis? Let the two of you continue where you left off earlier? Or maybe you’d prefer Garreth instead– your standards seem to be all over the place, so I wouldn’t be surprised.” 

“N-No–” you stammered around the word when his fist clenched painfully in the hair at the nape of your neck. “Just you– only you– I swear, we were only talking earlier–”

“That’s not what it looked like from where I was standing…” he muttered darkly, releasing your head and letting it thunk back against the floor softly. His hand was akin to molten fire as it trailed along your clavicle before he moved his thumb to lightly brush across your bottom lip. You barely had time to take note of the movement before he dove forward to capture your lips in a heady, domineering kiss that stole your breath from you completely, and all you could do was mewl softly when you felt his tongue sweep along the inside of your mouth. Sebastian groaned into the kiss, cupping the side of your jaw with his hand as he shifted his knee away from your core to give him the space he needed to drop his hips and grind his solid manhood against your thigh. He broke away for a split second to breathe out, “Say it again.” 

It was hard to get a word out with how ferociously Sebastian was kissing you, but eventually his mouth trailed wetly to the side of your face to suck another mark into the skin below your ear, and you managed to gasp out, “Just you, Sebastian. There’s only you, I love you.” 

The sound of his nails scraping against the stone floor beside your head drew your attention, but before you could roll your head to look, he was sitting up once more with a new sort of emotion glinting in his eyes. Those brown orbs of his were no longer flat or cold and instead appeared to be scalding with blatant lasciviousness, his want for you as potent as Firewhiskey. 

Through hooded eyes you watched as Sebastian reached for his belt, the sound of metal and leather coming undone filling you with a kind of urgency that left you biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. Finally he would give you what you wanted– what you’d been craving from the moment he stripped you bare and pinned you to the floor. The version of your boyfriend above you hurriedly shoving his pants down his hips was unfamiliar to you; he seemed wholly animalistic, driven forth by some inherent, primitive need to claim you all for himself, and as much as you loathed his inability to rein in his jealousy at times, an equally intrinsic part of you craved his possessiveness. 

You were his, and he was yours. 

Freed from the confines of his trousers, Sebastian knocked your legs to the side so he had more room to situate himself between them. He slid his knees under your bent legs, caging the limbs under his arms as he ran his calloused palms down the tops of your thighs and the head of his cock slid through the overwhelming wetness that had gathered at your center. The rampant ache in your stomach roared back to life tenfold at the mere feeling of his thick shaft, and you twitched in anticipation while Sebastian fixed his lustful gaze on you. 

“That’s right,” he started to slide into your wet heat as he spoke, your mouth falling open around an airy groan at the sensation of being filled. “You’re mine. Everything you have to offer is for me and me alone, don’t you ever forget it.” 

Sebastian was stretching you out torturously slow, stuffing every inch of himself into you with a measure of control that went against his earlier behavior. He was utterly transfixed as he watched your chest rise and fall with panted breaths, and when he finally bottomed out with his hips flush to the backs of your thighs, a wanton groan ripped from your throat as your head fell to the side. Your hand shot up to push back against his lower stomach– silently trying to convey that you needed a moment to adjust– but Sebastian merely pulled his hips back and plunged back in, drawing a keen whimper from you that lit a fire in his blood. 

Overwhelmed tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to breathe through the sheer size of him breaching you, and you threw your arm over your face to hide the sudden flush you felt heating your cheeks. “S-Sebastian, I can’t– ah–” 

His hands slid down your thighs to grip at your waist once again, pulling you impossibly closer to grind against your ass before he began pumping into you steadily. It stole your breath– all of it; the angle, his bruising hold on you, his pulsing cock brushing against the deepest parts of you. It was exquisite agony, and a quivering moan tore from your lips when he leaned forward to spear downward into you, the head of his shaft hitting something that made you jolt against him. 

Your arm fell away from your face in that instant, your fingers scrambling for purchase against the stone floor beneath you, to no avail. “F-Fuck, you’re too much– Sebastian!” 

With your neck tipped back and your eyes squeezed shut, you felt Sebastian lean forward to brace his elbows on either side of your head before grasping your cheeks in his large hands. He lifted your skull from the ground and held your forehead to his again, prompting you to look at him as he slowed his pace. He continued to drive his hips into yours, but the mind numbing intensity had mercifully lessened. 

“You’ll never do this with anyone else,” he said brusquely, his breath fanning across your lips. You could only moan in response, especially when he started to grind against you after each plunge of his cock. “This is all for me– every bit of you was made for me– do you understand?” 

The grating moans that had been sounding from you transformed into gentler ones, Sebastian’s wave-like movements with his hips delivering tantalizing friction against your clit that had you melting beneath him. You nodded dumbly, and your boyfriend released your face to sit up so he could better watch as you fell apart under him. With one hand on your waist and the other propping him up, Sebastian held fast to you while he upped his tempo, pistoning his hips into you so fast and rough that the wet sounds coming from where you were connected were all you could hear. 

More choked whimpers cascaded from your lips, sounding like an angelic symphony as far as Sebastian was concerned, and he threw his head back as he got lost in the sensation of your velvety walls clamping down on his cock. You could tell he was close based on how ragged his breathing became, and your own looming climax frayed the remaining tethers of your self-restraint. You surrendered completely to him, relishing in the overwhelming fullness of him as well as the scrape of the stone floor against your shoulder blades. Pain faded into pleasure, the cold air of the Undercroft transformed into a blazing inferno, and you swore you had never been so thoroughly fucked in your life. 

When Sebastian’s gaze fell back on you, his eyes darkened and he practically snarled as he bent you clean in half. He nudged your knees over his shoulders so he could wrap his arms around you, burying his fingers in your hair and clenching the strands in his fists, and as he rammed his cock into you harder– more feral and beastly than ever– the air in your lungs was expelled with every intoxicating thrust. 

All you could see, smell, hear, and feel was him. He had effectively rendered you brainless as he claimed your mind, body, and soul, and the only thing you could do was submit to him and take it. 

Your clammy hands blazed a trail along his skin as you wrapped your arms around him, your nails digging into his back so hard that it had to sting– but if Sebastian’s throaty groan was anything to go by, he fucking loved it. 

“Gods, it’s so deep, isn’t it?” he asked you, the words coming out in-between panted breaths. A shiver ran up your spine at the thought before you clenched around him even more, the unmistakable feeling of his cock hitting your cervix making you see stars. “I’ll come inside– fill you up so good that you’ll walk out of here with it dripping down your legs. See what everyone else has to say about that.” 

You couldn’t even formulate a response. The most you managed was a witless, muffled cry of his name against his shoulder, the weight of him pressing down on you smothering any of the unintelligible noises that escaped you. His rapid, uncompromising pace drove you higher than you had ever thought possible, and your climax steadily built from a whisper to a deafening clamor. 

“Ah– Sebastian, please–” you babbled, spittle hanging from your lips as you begged. “Please, please, please–” 

The hands he had fisted in your hair tightened even more, prompting you to crane your neck back to ease the prickling feeling. “Please what? Come on darling, tell me what you want.” 

The bestial way Sebastian fucked into you intensified in that moment, his toes digging into the stone floor to lend him the support he needed to chase his own pleasure while simultaneously amplifying yours. It was too much– it felt too good– and you had to fight tooth and nail to get the words out before his efforts left you a useless, twitching pile of limbs beneath him. “Please, let me come!” 

“Swear that you’re mine,” he growled in your ear, the rough timbre to his voice making you tremble in earnest. “Tell me that no one else will ever have you like this– swear it.” 

“I s-swear– I swear it– I’m yours, Sebastian. Only yours, I swear, please please please– I swear–” 

Sebastian said nothing else, instead rewarding your admission with a toe-curling roll of his hips as he plunged in all the way to the hilt. He kept moving like that, the chill-inducing friction against your clit combined with his sinfully precise, cervix-kissing thrusts more than enough to drag your finish from you. Your walls fluttered around him as you lost control of your voice, your entire body quaking and jolting as an assortment of moans, cries, and and airy gasps poured from your throat. 

“Fuck–” Sebastian swore roughly, both of his hands abandoning their hold on your hair to brace against the floor to better support his body as you seemingly sucked him in deeper. “Good girl, fuck– I’m close. You're going to take it all, yeah?”

There wasn’t a chance in hell you could respond– not that Sebastian was waiting for you to. With a husky groan, he pushed himself as deep into you as he could go, getting a few last thrusts in before he bottomed out and unraveled. Hot, potent strings of his seed painted your insides, causing your eyes to roll back in your head before he began rutting and grinding his hips into you to milk as much of himself as he could. You could barely hear him mumbling for you to take it all– not that it was even up for debate– and when he finally relented and stilled his movements, you were too dazed to so much as glance at him. 

A warm, featherlight feeling brought you back to the present after a couple of heated moments. Sebastian’s hands brushed a few stray strands of hair away from your forehead, his eyes unapologetically roving over you as he took in the sight of your fucked-out expression. He seemed pleased with himself, a barely there smirk revealing itself as he dropped his hand to your waist to dig his fingers into the bruised skin there. You inhaled sharply, but beyond that, you didn’t so much as wince. You were far too weary for that. 

“In the future,” he started to say as he rocked forward, pressing his still-hard length into you briefly before withdrawing halfway, only to repeat the motion again. “I’d rather you keep your hands to yourself when you’re with your ‘friends’. Especially where Ominis is concerned…” he trailed off, his hands skimming along all the love-bites and bruises that littered your body. “That is, unless you want more reminders as to who it is exactly you’re dating.” 

One look into Sebastian’s dark, piercing eyes told you that he wasn’t bluffing at all. You already knew that he was more than willing to stake his claim on you should the need arise, and part of you even wondered if he would have the decency to do so in private next time. 

Next time? Would there even be a next time? He had certainly made his point.

The pleasant ache that lingered throughout your body had you second guessing yourself, however, and you honestly wondered if it would be worth it to rile Sebastian up again in the future. As terrifying as the thought was, you couldn’t help but entertain it as you smiled up at him innocently, a flurry of unholy visions racing through your mind as you relished in the possessive way he continued to touch you. 

When he began to move his hips again, you decided to label the notion as a ‘maybe’ for now. Clearly he was far from finished with you, and despite the mildly terrifying side of him you had just been made privy to, you couldn’t help but shudder in anticipation. 

Maybe rousing the sleeping dragon again wouldn’t be such a terrible thing… right?

[intuitively-her]

There could be some turbulence going on with your family or your partner maybe? You might be in hermit mode right now because of this. Please know that these hard times will not last forever. You are getting into alignment with what's meant for you. This is a good time to manifest! You need to get serious and hone in on your goals. You are getting ready to walk into a brand new energy. Take heed on the opportunities being presented to you at this time.

Set your intentions! Use this time to dream without thinking about the limitations of life. Now is the time to start fresh! Don't let your past define you. Every day is a new opportunity to grow and learn. You need to use your voice to share your gifts with the world. Your skills are something special. Get grounded so that you can be more in touch with your intuition. Walk by faith, not by sight. Trust that your situation will get better.

You could be going through a tough time right now. Don't let yourself become closed off because of this though. It would actually benefit you to mingle with others right now. Once you start going out more and trying new things, it will help you release that stuck energy. For someone here, it's time to reconsider moving to a different city. This will allow so many opportunities to roll in for you. Like pile 1, you possess many different skills that need to be shown off. Stop sleeping on yourself!

It's time to wake up! Face your shadows, feel your emotions, and let them go once and for all. Don't feel embarrassed or ashamed to show vulnerability. You are human, just like everyone else. So, stop being so hard on yourself. If you can, talk to an elder or a parent about your current situation. Listen to their wisdom. And please, remember that life is not about the destination, it's about the journey. Take things day by day.🩷

You are stepping into a new and confident energy! Lately, you've been staying in your lane and focusing on your goals/what you need to heal. You've been glowing lately!😍 Keep up the good work. You could be gaining some sort of popularity soon. You need to know that your hard work is not going to waste. I pulled the 10 of pentacles and the 10 of cups for you. You are coming into alignment with your manifestations. Someone here needs to beware of an impure offer coming from a masculine at work. You could already have an idea of who this is. This person will want to "make a deal" with you. This is giving me pyramid scheme vibes ngl. Someone that you rejected or vice versa really wants another chance with you. They feel like y'all got off on the wrong foot. Your judgement was clouded in this situation, and you allowed your fears to get in the way of this connection. They're being genuine though; you can trust them.

You need to incorporate more spells or potions into your manifestation routine. This will allow situations to go in your favor much easier. Use your resources to help create the life that you desire. Your spirit team also wants you to stop worrying! Whether it's about a bill, your health, etc. You are protected! 444,888

It is time to let go of this person/situation that you're stuck on. It's blocking new things from coming in for you. You could feel like your life is at a standstill right now, especially at work. You need to believe in yourself! Hold yourself to a higher standard. Stop entertaining people, situations, and habits that are beneath you. It's time to lock in with yourself and put your skills to use. Once you do, life will start to flow in your favor.

You are being guided to tap into the hidden realms of your subconscious mind. Get in touch with your spiritual side. Allow your intuition to guide you. Do more things that help you feel grounded. Your guides are waiting to be made use of. Call on them when you need help, talk to them when you need clarity; they will be there for literally anything. Continue to explore your craft and exercise your gifts. And please remember that life is not a race, you're doing just fine.😉

*ONLY TAKE WHAT RESONATES*

🩷Please DO NOT copy, repost, or steal my work. Thanks!🩷

[number1mingyustan]

If your taking recs can you do a jealous mingyu smut idw but I've been in love with your mingyu fics there so good!

model!mingyu x model!fem!reader

warnings: cursing, kissing, explicit smut, established relationship, fingering (f)., oral (f)., rough sex, begging, recording, sex on camera, oral (m.) , unprotected sex, creampie, jealousy

_______________________________________________

Mingyu isn't very good at hiding his emotions. He never really has been. He can try all he wants but there's always something in his tone of voice or his body language that serves as a dead giveaway of how he really feels.

Like right now.

He's got a smile on his face but there's a twitch in his eye and an aura that he seems to be emitting that says otherwise.

There's too many eyes on you tonight and he can't stand it. You recently went public with your relationship, so it's only natural that attention would be drawn your way.

The media took the news surprisingly well. Focused on theorizing how beautiful your kids would be with two parents so prominent in the modeling industry.

However, there seems to be more attention drawn on just you tonight. It's a typical high society event full of designer brands and expensive champagne. Paparazzi are savaging what they can, nothing out of the ordinary.

But you're radiating a different aura tonight and others seem to have picked up on it. More pictures and people are approaching you. Of course, you look absolutely stunning tonight, but his blood is boiling.

Too many eyes lingering on your body.

So he holds his arms around your waist a little tighter. Cuts conversations short and whisks you away from others as much as he can.

You catch onto it early, but choose not to address it. The words left unsaid even through the unnecessarily tense car ride back home.

The front door opens slowly and you step through. Your heels resound throughout the kitchen of the apartment as you step in. Mingyu takes your coat wordlessly, hanging it up in the closet.

You flick on the light above the stove, providing the dark kitchen with dim lighting only bright enough that you can make out the features of his face.

You lean over the counter, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and bat your eyelashes. "You wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he mumvles, corssing his arms and leaning against the wall.

You raise an eyebrow, stepping from behind the counter. You walk over to him, taking his hands in yours. "Gyu."

He breathes out. "Fine."

"I didn't like the attention you were getting tonight."

"What do you mean love," you ask, cocking your head to the side.

"I don't know.... it just felt like everyone was staring at you and talking to you. Don't get me wrong, you're the prettiest girl in the world but fuck–it made me so mad. "

"You don't have anything to worry about Gyu," You look up at him sincerely. " 'M all yours."

"I know.." he mumbles. "Can't help it. You're too pretty."

You grin. "I'm only yours."

"Fuck," he breathes out, leaning closer so your faces only have a small gap separating you. "Say it again."

Your eyes scan his face slowly, admiring his features. "I'm yours."

"Fuck," he breathes out.

He leans in, closing the small gap between you. He kisses you roughly, leaning your back against the kitchen counter. His hands almost immediately grip your ass, giving it a light squeeze as he kisses you messily.

You drop to your knees, hands scrambling to undo his belt buckle. You allow his pants to drop and bring his underwear down with it. You waste no time, taking his thick cock in your hands and pumping him quickly.

You spit, coating your hand with the lubricant and continuing to stroke the length of his cock. You feel him harden and grow in your hand.

Once satisfied, you open your mouth, pressing the weight of his cock against your tongue. You take him in deeper, allowing your cheeks to fit as much as you can in your mouth.

You bob your head, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat. You continue using your hand, stroking what doesn't fit in your mouth as you suck him.

"Shit–yeah.." he moans.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, making a lazy excuse for a ponytail and starts moving his hips. He starts off slow, testing the waters before his hips pick up pace and he fucks your throat.

He's vocal, letting moans and groans of your name slip past his lips as he thrusts his cock into your mouth. Your eyes water, but you manage.

Regardless of how many eyes lingered and wandered tonight, Mingyu felt a sense of pride in his chest. They could stare all they wanted, but this was a sight for his eyes only.

No one else gets to see you on your knees, determined to take everything he gives you while tears ruin your makeup and turn you into a beautiful mess.

He tugs at the makeshift ponytail in his fist and pulls your lips off of him. He guides you back up onto your feet and carries you in his arms toward the bedroom.

He helps you undress, taking off the black Valentino dress you're wearing and hanging it up in your closet. He makes his way back to you, pressing his lips against yours passionately once again.

Your back meets the mattress and his hands wander along your body. He pulls at the little bit of fabric still covering your body, tossing the articles of clothing onto the floor.

He pulls away from the kiss, flipping you over onto your stomach. He presses your chest down, lifting your ass up in the air. He curses under his breath.

"Shit... gonna fuck you so good. Gotta let everyone know you're mine."

You hum in agreement, sinking your face into the pillow. "Please.."

He spreads your legs apart and dips his head down behind you. His warm tongue licks a long stripe through your folds. You shudder at the unexpected contact.

He sucks on your clit, gliding his tongue along your folds skillfully from behind. He slips two fingers into you, stretching your cunt out. He curls his fingers, pressing them deeper into you at the angle from behind.

You cry out, burying your face deeper into the pillow to muffle your incessant moans. He lands a harsh slap on your ass. He pulls his fingers out of you and removes his lips from your cunt entirely. You whine.

You lift your head and start to look back, but Mingyu grabs you by the throat and forces you to look straight. "Liar..."

You feel the tip of his cock prodding your entrance.

"Acting like you're all mine.." he scoffs. "Getting all shy and quiet on me. Gonna make you scream and let everyone know."

Before you can respond, he's thrusting his cock into you. You cry out at first contact, feeling his cock splitting you open. "Fuck!"

He grabs a fistful of your hair again, tipping your head back to hold it up and prevent you from hiding in the pillow. He fucks you roughly, hips meeting your ass with force and an unwavering pace.

Your hands grip the bedsheets to keep you grounded. His cock fills you up perfectly, stretching your cunt open and making your legs shake.

"Mingyu ah-" you cry out.

He's reaching deep inside of you, cock pressing against the sweet spot that drives you crazy with each thrust. His large hand tightens his grip on your hair, forcing you to tilt your head and arch your back more. You can hear his breathing behind you and his cock throbs. "Fuck.. look at you. All mine, only mine."

Mingyu reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his phone. He holds the camera up, recording the area where your bodies meet. You moan out and begin fucking yourself back on his cock. You look back, smirking at the way your ass ripples each time it meets the force of his hips. "Shit yeah–just like that baby."

His eyes roll back and he can feel himself nearing the edge. He snakes a hand between your thighs and starts rubbing quick circles along your clit. You moan, crying out his name like a chant.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly. "Fuck– I'm cumming. Ah-Gyu!"

Your chest rises and falls quickly as the pleasure courses through your body. He follows behind you, thrusting sloppily until he's filling your cunt with his cum. The phone camera is shaky, but he fucks you through it.

You both breathe heavily as you come down. He pulls out, making sure the camera is pointed where your bodies meet. His cum drips out of your, running along your inner thighs. He watches with a smirk and cuts the video off.

He kisses your temple and climbs off the bed to get you a wet rag. He cleans you up and dresses you in one of his t-shirts. He puts on a pair of sweats and climbs underneath the covers next to you.

He spoons you, holding your body close to his knowing that you're his girl and only his.

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[seat-safety-switch]

If there is a truly painful part of our current existence, it is the decline of our most trusted brands. Venture capital scum are buying up the companies that made all of your dad's favourite junk, slapping the name on some absolute shit to make a quick buck, and then escaping with the profits to the cosmos.

Many of us grew up staring at the tools that our parents used. That kind of youth exposure – being forced through continuous exposure – trained us to know that these are the Good Tools. They will not let us down, not like the common garden-variety horseshit that clogs the shelves, in their ugly generic boxes. So it's extra harmful when their modern incarnations don't stand up to this childhood idyll.

Those of you who are regular readers of Adbusters will criticize us for ever trusting a brand name. And it's easy to see why, once you've been condescended at for long enough to understand what marketing has done to the human soul. These names mean nothing, and are easily manipulated by evil moneymen to induce an emotional attachment in the population rather than cold, hard, logical thinking.

The rest of us, who are apparently not visiting this cursed Earth from the halcyon era of late 2005, will waste at least two hundred dollars over the course of our lives. We do so by buying one of four identical piece-of-shit toy vacuums cynically wearing the Shop-Vac® name – at least twice – in case the first one was just a fluke. And it's not just sucky tubes that suck now: every brand with significant goodwill from the days of yesteryear is a victim of this. It's hard not to feel cheated.

There is good news, though. Paradoxically, it is now the ugly, dollar-store no-name brands that are pretty good. It's because those brands now mostly consist of the Taiwanese factories that got stiffed by these same vampire assholes in the first place. It turns out they make a pretty good power tool, too, as long as you're willing to buy them from Qwijibo Heavy Fabrication through a series of shell corporations, top-secret dead drops, and the sacrifice of a goat. I personally cannot wait the remaining six months to get my hands on a Qwijibo Throb-Master 9000, because I have a lot of mouse nests to pull out of my dad's old Ford. I'd buy a new one, but it's built like shit.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Hauntingly Yours - Han Jisung

MINORS DNI 18+ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: ghost! Han x fem! reader

summary: You signed the lease to a brand new apartment and now you're on your own again. You sure didn't miss single life but some creepy noises at 3am suggest you're not alone in your new place.

warnings: angst, nipple play, temperature play, paranormal intercourse(?)

“All houses wherein men have lived and died; Are haunted houses. Through the open doors; The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors.”

You lifted the last box off the moving truck and made your way inside. The landlord failed to mention the creaking stairs and the rotting wood bannister that wobbled when you held onto it. He had told you the wooden floors were all original, as were the windows. The house was built in the late 1800s and you had rented out the top floor. You asked him who would be renting out the floor below you and his face went cold. You remembered that look from your childhood. Kids would give you that cold, uneasy stare when you told them about the figures you saw in the night. You don't talk about that stuff anymore.

“No one will be living downstairs, miss. Not anymore.” The landlord said firmly. And that was that. No more questions, no more answers.

You grunted and groaned as you lifted the last box up the stairs to your new bedroom. You set the box down on the floor and collapsed into the bed. Your eyes stared at the ceiling. Peeling white paint and water stains scattered above you. You couldn't explain why you were so drawn to this place, this house. Your mom had practically begged you not to sign the lease. She said she got a bad feeling about this place. But you didn't get a bad feeling. You felt strangely comforted, oddly at peace.

That night, you made yourself comfortable on your new mattress. You made yourself some tea and quickly faded off into sleep. But soon your eyes shot open and a cold rush ran through your body. You sat up in bed and looked around the room. You had that familiar, eerie feeling that you weren't alone.

“Hello…?” You whispered meekly. You held your breath in anticipation of a response but none came.

You sighed deeply and dragged your hands along your face. Get it together! You told yourself. You glanced at the clock on your bedside table to see the flashing numbers Three Oh Three A.M glaring right back at you.

In the morning you padded softly to the kitchen only to find all of the cupboards and drawers flung open.

“What the fuck?!” You hastily shut every cupboard and every drawer. You hadn't bought very many groceries yet so there wasn't much of a mess to clean. For a moment you thought the landlord may have come in and done it. But he had been out of town since he gave you the keys, almost as if he was fleeing the place entirely. Then you had another thought. Your eyes darted around the room, your senses heightened and on edge.

“Listen! If there is anyone here. I live here too now, okay? So we're going to have to learn to…coexist.” You waited. You paused and waited for some kind of sign. A whisper or a knock or something, anything. But just like when you were a child, when you wanted proof of the figures that you saw at nothing, they never showed themselves.

Another night of falling asleep rather quickly. You were never able to fall asleep this easily at your other apartment, but here you drifted off to sleep rather effortlessly. While you slept, a ghostly specter hovered in the corner.

Han had been gone for years. Centuries of watching people move in and out of this house. His family home was now a revolving door of randomly selected people that lived their lives for a year or two then vanished, never to be seen again. Han would watch children grow and couples fight and make up. The whole spectrum of human emotions were displayed for him like a torturous loop in this limbo he found himself in.

But now, Han’s attention was soon completely captured by your beauty as he watched you sleep. He found himself drawn to the warmth and vitality emanating from you, something he hadn't felt in centuries. His ghostly form hovered closer, his ethereal fingers reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. You stir in your sleep. The cold sensation of Han’s touch startling you.

Emboldened by your lack of reaction, Han continued to touch your face, your hair, your arms. The more he touched you, the more he craved physical contact. He leaned in closer, his face hovering just above yours, and pressed his icy lips to yours in a ghostly kiss. He couldn't believe what he was doing. For years he couldn't even hold someone's hand let alone press his lips to theirs. You part your lips and open your mouth to his. Your eyes flutter slightly. Han was stunned and overjoyed as you responded to his kiss, your warm lips moving against his cold ones. He deepened the kiss, pouring centuries of loneliness and longing into it. His arms encircled you, pulling your sleeping form closer as he lost himself in the sensation of your embrace.

Han breaks the kiss as he notices your fluttering eyelashes, fearing that he has awakened you. He searched your face, finding your eyes still closed. He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

"You can see me, can't you?” He whispered softly.

Your eyes flutter open slowly as they take in the floating figure above you. Han fixes his eyes on you, fully expecting you to scream or run away. But instead, you sit up and fix your eyes on him as well. You both stare at each other for a moment before you finally break the silence.

“Who are you?”

Han smiles sadly, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. "My name is Han Jisung, I am the gentleman who used to live in this house.” His voice is sure and strong. “I didn't mean to wake you, ma'am. I couldn't resist..." His gaze drops to your parted lips, and he hesitates, torn between desire and guilt.

Han Jisung, you repeat his name like reciting a soft prayer. Han hasn't heard another person speak his name in so long, his heart lingered on every syllable. You ask him how long he's been here and how he died, but his face twists with confusion and frustration.

“I don't remember.” He hisses.

You lightly brush the tips of your fingers along his cheek. Han's eyes search yours, hope flickering in their depths. He shivers at your touch, a ghostly moan escaping his lips. He takes your hand and presses it against his chest, over where his heart used to be.

"I feel so much, being near you. It's like I'm alive again." He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your palm.

You shiver again as Han’s icy kiss penetrates your warm skin. You bring your face slowly to his and part your lips once more, silently inviting another kiss. Han’s mouth descends onto yours, his lips insistent as they claim your own. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entry. His hands roam your body, learning the curves and dips of your form. He is ravenous, desperate to make up for centuries of denied touch and affection. You melt into the touch almost instantly, falling back onto the bed and pulling him on top of you. You feel his hands traveling up and down the sides of your waist, keeping a respectable distance from anything too intimate. You take his hands on yours and bring them to your breasts. Han tears his mouth away from yours, panting heavily. His hands squeeze your breasts, his thumbs rubbing against your nipples through the fabric of your shirt.

"God, I need to touch you. All of you."

Han gently pulls your shirt over your head, revealing your bare breasts to his hungry gaze. He sighs in wonder, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts, the rosy peaks of your nipples. He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, suckling gently as his other hand massages your other breast.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, the cool sensation making you arch into his touch. He lavishes attention on your breasts, alternating between suckling and laving with his tongue. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you harder against him. Your mind is lost to the sensations of his hands roaming desperately over your body. You pull at his clothes, your need overpowering any common sense that may be left. He rises above you, his eyes glinting in the dim light. His hands make quick work of the rest of your clothing, leaving you bare beneath him. He unbuttons his own waistcoat and breeches, shedding the century-old clothing.

Han allows you a moment to admire his spectral form, his pale skin seeming to glow in the darkness. He settles between your thighs, his cool flesh a stark contrast to your warmth. He kisses you deeply as he positions himself at your entrance

His eyes flash with desire and tenderness. He enters you slowly, his cool hardness filling you inch by inch. He groans at the sensation, his head falling to your shoulder. "Oh, Miss… you feel divine. You feel like Heaven." He begins to move, his thrusts deep and measured.

Han's pace quickens as you meet his thrusts, your movements driving him to the edge. He buries his face in your neck, his icy breath against your heated skin. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pumps into you. You can feel your orgasm nearing as he continues to piston and stretch inside of you. Your own morality fraying at the seams as you reach your peak and let the sensation of unknown ecstasy consume you. Han lets out a guttural moan, his body tensing as he finds his own release inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he shudders with aftershocks.

You lie there together bathed in the moonlight dripping through your bedroom window. You listen close to the sounds of breathing. Han is here with you. And not with you. You hold him flush against you for as long as you can. You're not sure what will happen to your ghostly companion once the sun rises in the morning.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star

[borathae]

“You and your friends celebrate girl’s night at the penthouse. This however, isn’t an excuse for Jungkook not to receive his welcome home kisses. You won’t complain, he’s your cutie after all.”

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff, casual BDSM

Warnings: just girlies being best friends <3, they talk very freely about kink, she shows off her playroom, mentions of sex work & BDSM events, mommy kink, Kookie being her cute Bunnybaby <3

Wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: i reread the caravan chapter of aaol and in it, Koo mentions that she can bring her girl friends over for girl's night whenever she wants to. so i wrote something about that feat. Koo being a cutie. have fun besties 🤎

You had your girls over tonight. It has been ages since you last saw them and it couldn’t be any more exciting to have them stay at your place. You call it your Paradis Girls’ Sleepover. Hyejin brings the snacks, Byulyi the drinks, Yongsun is responsible for the face masks and Wheein brings candles. You offer them your guestrooms to sleep in, comfy pajamas to wear and fluffy socks to show off. 

The sleepover started at four. Hyejin and Wheein were the first to arrive. Like always. Yongsun was next and Byulyi came last. You all greeted each other with happy squeals and tight hugs, falling into excited conversation instantly. Your voices overlapped, everyone had something to tell and unsurprisingly, nobody was heard. You giggled about it and then agreed on taking turns telling your stories. 

Yongsun and her now-fiancé are currently trying for a baby and are moving apartments. She stopped working at Paradis four months ago. You knew of the last fact of course because you and the others were her emotional support cheerleader in the group chat during the process. She doesn’t miss the work and says that sex with her partner feels so much better all of a sudden. 

“That’s what I’m always saying. Sex hits so good when you’re only doing it with your love”, you say, snacking on some salted pretzels.

“Yeah I agree, it hits hard. You’re especially lucky though. Kook’s kinky as fuck”, Yongsun says as she sips on her makgeolli.

“Is Shiwon vanilla?” Wheein asks, “that’s news to me.”

“Oh hell no, not vanilla. Just not as kinky as Kook. You guys have a playroom. That’s so hot.”

“Oh, yes right!” you exclaim, clapping into your hands, “Yongsun, do you still wanna tell us more? Because I just remembered that we redid the toy shelves and you didn’t even see them yet.”

“Okay slay. Please show us”, Hyejin says, “unless you still want to talk, Yongsun. We don’t wanna cut your time short.”

“No, I can still talk during the house tour. I need to see the new shelves.” 

“Slay. Let’s do that”, Hyejin says and gets up from the couch.

You and the other girls follow. 

“Did you realise that you’ve started saying slay all the time?” Byulyi asks.

“Yes god so annoying”, Hyejin groans, “I’m watching this streamer and she keeps saying slay all the time. I can’t stop doing it because of her. Last night, I literally told one of my customers slay after we finished”, she whines, making your little group chuckle. 

“Did he say something?”

“Yeah, he asked me what it meant and I had to explain to him. He said that he didn’t get it and then left. Weirdo, it’s not like he wanted to lick cheese sauce outta my belly button before that.”

Wheein cracks up, you and the others laugh as well. You can clearly imagine how weird that customer was. You had so many of those during your time at Paradis.

You chat about the streamer on the way to the playroom. Hyejin tells you that she really likes her streams and that she always watches them in the evening during dinner and her night routine. She then proceeded to gush about this new rice water moisturiser she is trying, which in return made Byulyi think of how she got a new favourite brand of rice. Conversation shifted to Byulyi and her favourite brand of rice and how she thought of so many recipes already. Wheein asked for them and Byulyi gladly shared them. 

You keep the door to the playroom open, turning on the lights.

Your girls gasp and coo in unison, looking around the playroom with sparkling eyes.

“This won’t ever lose its spark”, Yongsun gushes, “it’s so hot. Seriously I’m getting all wet just being here.”

“Totally understand you”, Wheein agrees. 

“Wait till you see the upgraded toy drawers. That’ll make your clits throb”, you tell them, leading them to the drawers with a happy skip in your steps. 

The ladies follow you happily, looking left and right to really take in everything.

“Is that swing new?”Hyejin asks.

“Mhm? That?” you look at the black leather sex swing, “I think you girls haven’t seen it yet, but we’ve had it for like seven months.”

“Slay. Did you use it already?”

“What do you think?” you say and grin mischievously.

“Huge slay.”

Byulyi laughs because of Hyejin, patting her back sisterly. 

“It’s sturdy. Also it gives me a good grip on Kook. I can really go to town on him when he’s in there”, you say.

“I can imagine”, Yongsun says, “pegging in a swing just hits so much harder”

“Yeah definitely”, Wheein agrees.

You nod your head and turn to the drawers, “now look at those drawers.”

You and your girls gather in front of them as you open them and reveal your vibrator collection to them. 

“Woow so cool”, they gasp. 

“Right? Right? Check out the lighting in there. Helloo? We have drawer lights”, you gush, waving your hands around in the drawer.

“That’s genuinely so fucking cool. And the pillowing too. It makes the toys look so expensive”, Byulyi gushes, poking her finger into the velvety pillowing.

“And now check this out”, you say, pushing the drawer closed. It slides closed carefully, slowing down on the last few inches before closing silently, “they have a fucking automatic break in them. Remember the stupid ass drawers in Room 14?”

“They are still getting stuck each time you close them. Trust me, I’m still struggling”, Wheein says.

“I know right. God”, you groan and open the drawer again just to show off its closing mechanism to them, “look at how smooth that is.”

“This is so cool, seriously. Now stop closing the damn drawers I wanna see the collection”, Byulyi says, making you laugh.

“Okay, okay fine. A girl can’t do anything here”, you joke.

Byulyi chuckles deeply, looking into the drawer with a lopsided smirk on her lips.

And so you show them your new toys and give them a few details about how it is to play with them. You show them your pegging dildo collection and Wheein asks about Jungkook’s progress, which you proudly show them. They react in coos and honest praise and you felt so proud of your husband. There is no better feeling in the world than being able to show off with him.

And there are also no better people to do it to than your friends. You share everything about your sex lives. No topic, kink or fetish is taboo. Conversations about them are normal to you and them and part of the bond you share. You honestly think that if you suddenly stopped being so open with each other, the friendship would feel weird. Sex was what brought you five together, it is what you first bonded over as you had to talk shit about weird customers and even now, when two of your little group stopped working at the club, sex will still be a topic keeping you together. After all, there are many kink events where the five of you and your partners go to together. The shared love for kink and fetish is just part of your identities and a big reason why you loved to be friends.

It is obvious how normal kink conversations are in your friendship, when in the middle of you showing off the sturdiness of your flogging post, Byulyi begins talking about her rice again and you all exchange recipes. 

By the time the clock showed eight, Jungkook comes home from work. You and your girls were back in the living room again, but still haven’t started the movie you actually wanted to watch. Conversation was just too good to interrupt it with movies.

Jungkook is a welcome interruption however. You look at the elevator until its doors open and reveal Jungkook in his business attire.

“Hey there!”

“Yuhuu!”

“Welcome home, Kook!” 

“Helloo!”

Your girls greet your husband happily, giving him enthusiastic waves.

His eyes light up instantly.

“Hey there, girls”, he greets them, stepping out of the elevator, “hey, my love”. he tells you.

“Hey, Bunny. How was work?”

“Okay. I’ll just quickly take off my outside clothes and then I’ll be with you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jungkook disappears in the dressing room for a moment. 

“He worked later today, didn’t he?”

“No, he went for dinner with a friend. I told him to take his time. I’m surprised he’s home already.”

Jungkook reappears again, making his way to you. He looks so handsome in his grey suit that you can’t stop making heart eyes at him.

“___ says that you went for dinner with a friend?” Wheein asks him.

“Yeah, Tae. We had pork ribs. It was so yummy and I ate way too much. My pants are uncomfy now”, he says, tugging on the hem of them to give his tummy a well-deserved break, “I had to drive home with my pants undone”, he says and makes you laugh.

“I understand you so well”, Wheein says, “it’s kinda nice too though. I like being so full with food ‘cause it means that the food was yummy.”

“Yeah definitely.”

“So why are you home already?” Hyejin asks. 

“Actually, funny story. Tae had to hurry home because his daughter suddenly got explosive diarrhea and his wife begged him to help her with it.”

“Eew really?”

“Yeah”, Jungkook laughs, “apparently it went all over the walls?”

“Eeew that’s so nasty eeww”, Hyejin says jokingly, “you sure you wanna get knocked up, unnie?” she teases Yongsun. 

“Haha, very funny.”

“You and Shiwon are trying for a baby?” Jungkook asks.

“Yup, at least we’re trying for one. I can’t say that I’m hating the process.” 

Jungkook laughs, “I can imagine.”

He finally reaches the couch, scanning his eyes over the snacks and drinks.

“Don’t look at the drinks”, Byulyi says, covering the glasses of makgeolli with her hands. 

Jungkook chuckles, “it’s fine. I don’t mind looking at alcohol. You girls enjoy”, he says and closes in on you.

He gets on your lap and hugs you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. You hug him back instantly, smiling dreamily.

“Hey, Mommy”, he says. 

“Hey there, Bunny.”

“How was your day?” 

“Good. And yours?”

“Okay. I had too many meetings”, he huffs out air, “so annoying.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry Bunnybaby. But you did it, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Mommy”, he giggles happily, “I thought of you during the meetings.”

“You did?”

He nods his head and lifts it so he gazes into your eyes.

“I also have to fly to Shanghai for two nights. I gotta meet with a few business partners”, he says and pouts.

“When are you leaving?”

“Wednesday. I should be home by Friday night again”, he sacks his shoulders, “I’m sorry. I know this is really last-minute, but I only learned about it today.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know”, you assure him and squeeze his dainty waist, “gosh Bunny, I’ll miss you so much. Like damn.”

“I know. Me too, Mommy”, he whines and hugs you tightly, “we gotta call each night.”

“Of course we gotta”, you say, making him giggle and lift his head so he could look at you again.

He caresses the sides of your neck, scrunching his nose cutely.

“You’re so pretty, Mommy."

“Mhm, Bunny you’re so cute. Come closer and let Mommy have her kisses.”

Jungkook leans in gladly, kissing you deeply and with his hips squirming on your lap unapologetically. You and he only act this way in front of your girls. No one else in your lives, not even family, knows this side of you. There would simply be too many awkward follow up questions and quite frankly, it was more comfortable to keep this part of your relationship private. But not in front of your girls. They know you for who you truly are. Jungkook was shy about it at first, because he never experienced sharing his kinks with people before. But once he realised that he won’t find judgment with your friends – and he visited enough kink events with you and your friends to know they are just as kinky as you – he began opening up more and more. These days, he is not ashamed of acting like Mommy’s best Bunny in front of them and he is most definitely not ashamed to show how much he likes your kisses. Everyone should know that he is Mommy’s happy Bunny when he gets your kisses.

You break the kiss because you didn’t want it to deepen too much. Jungkook will get horny again and you can’t be with him for at least a few more hours. 

He smiles at you, licking his lips afterwards. You retort the smile, squeezing his hips.

“That was nice”, he says.

“Yeah, it was so nice.”

“I think I’ll go to my room then. I bet you girls have so much to talk about”, he says, looking at the others.

“It’s okay. We don’t mind the distraction”, Byulyi assures him.

“We saw the size you can take these days. That’s impressive”, Wheein adds.

Jungkook’s face is beet red in an instant. He gawks at you with big eyes.

“You showed them?”

“Of course I did. I gotta show off with my Bunny.”

Jungkook blushes even harder, hiding his face in his own hands as cute giggles leave him.

“Mommy, you’re so mean. Don’t show off with that”, he whines, making you and your girls chuckle fondly.

“Mhm no. I’ll keep showing off with my Bunny.”

“God”, he falls against you, hugging you tightly as he giggles, “this is so embarrassing. You’re so mean, Mommy.”

“Sorry Bunny. You know that I’m proud of you, yeah?” you say, patting his butt gently.

“Yeah, I guess. Hmpf so mean”, he says and straightens up. You give him a little smooch on his cheek and then it is already time for Jungkook to get up from your lap. 

He looks at the snacks.

“Mhm snackies. Don’t mind me stealing some”, he says and grabs a handful of salted pretzels. He snacks on them as he leaves the living room, chewing happily, “will you girls stay the night?”

“Yup, we wanna watch a movie later.”

“Uuh movie. Which one?”

“Hereditary.”

“Isn’t that the movie with the car scene?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook cringes, “well good luck to you girls. ___ showed me the scene and I’m still traumatized”, he says, making your little group laugh.

“Thanks Kook.” 

“I’ll be in the gym if you need me. I gotta work off the calories I ate. Mhm those are good pretzels. Damn”, he says and officially disappears out of sight. 

You release a dreamy sigh.

“He’s so perfect, you guys. I’m so lucky”, you gush. 

“Wah she’s so in love”, Hyejin teases lovingly, making you chuckle.

“I am. It’s getting stronger each day”, you say proudly, sighing adoringly.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Social Quitting

In “Social Quitting,” my latest Locus Magazine column, I advance a theory to explain the precipitous vibe shift in how many of us view the once-dominant social media platforms, Facebook and Twitter, and how it is that we have so quickly gone asking what we can do to get these services out of our lives to where we should go now that we’re all ready to leave them:

https://locusmag.com/2023/01/commentary-cory-doctorow-social-quitting/

The core of the argument revolves around surpluses — that is, the value that exists in the service. For a user, surpluses are things like “being able to converse with your friends” and “being able to plan activities with your friends.” For advertisers, surpluses are things like “being able to target ads based on the extraction and processing of private user data” and “being able to force users to look at ads before they can talk to one another.”

For the platforms, surpluses are things like, “Being able to force advertisers and business customers to monetize their offerings through the platform, blocking rivals like Onlyfans, Patreon, Netflix, Amazon, etc” and things like “Being able to charge more for ads” and “being able to clone your business customers’ products and then switch your users to the in-house version.”

Platforms control most of the surplus-allocating options. They can tune your feed so that it mostly consists of media and text from people you explicitly chose to follow, or so that it consists of ads, sponsored posts, or posts they think will “boost engagement” by sinking you into a dismal clickhole. They can made ads skippable or unskippable. They can block posts with links to rival sites to force their business customers to transact within their platform, so they can skim fat commissions every time money changes hands and so that they can glean market intelligence about which of their business customers’ products they should clone and displace.

But platforms can’t just allocate surpluses will-ye or nill-ye. No one would join a brand-new platform whose sales-pitch was, “No matter who you follow, we’ll show you other stuff; there will be lots of ads that you can’t skip; we will spy on you a lot.” Likewise, no one would sign up to advertise or sell services on a platform whose pitch was “Our ads are really expensive. Any business you transact has to go through us, and we’ll take all your profits in junk fees. This also lets us clone you and put you out of business.”

Instead, platforms have to carefully shift their surpluses around: first they have to lure in users, who will attract business customers, who will generate the fat cash surpluses that can be creamed off for the platforms’ investors. All of this has to be orchestrated to lock in each group, so that they won’t go elsewhere when the service is enshittified as it processes through its life-cycle.

This is where network effects and switching costs come into play. A service has “network effects” if it gets more valuable as users join it. You joined Twitter to talk to the people who were already using it, and then other people joined so they could talk to you.

“Switching costs” are what you have to give up when you leave a service: if a service is siloed — if it blocks interoperability with rivals — then quitting that service means giving up access to the people whom you left behind. This is the single most important difference between ActivityPub-based Fediverse services like Mastodon and the silos like Twitter and Facebook — you can quit a Fediverse server and set up somewhere else, and still maintain your follows and followers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/23/semipermeable-membranes/#free-as-in-puppies

In the absence of interoperability, network effects impose their own switching cost: the “collective action problem” of deciding when to leave and where to go. If you depend on the people you follow and who follow you — for emotional support, for your livelihood, for community — then the extreme difficulty of convincing everyone to leave at the same time and go somewhere else means that you can be enticed into staying on a service that you no longer enjoy. The platforms can shift the surpluses away from you, provided that doing so makes you less miserable than abandoning your friends or fans or customers would. This is the Fiddler On the Roof problem: everyone stays put in the shtetl even though the cossacks ride through on the reg and beat the shit out of them, because they can’t all agree on where to go if they leave:

https://doctorow.medium.com/how-to-leave-dying-social-media-platforms-9fc550fe5abf

So the first stage of the platform lifecycle is luring in users by allocating lots of surplus to them — making the service fun and great and satisfying to use. Few or no ads, little or no overt data-collection, feeds that emphasize the people you want to hear from, not the people willing to pay to reach you.

This continues until the service attains a critical mass: once it becomes impossible to, say, enroll your kid in a little-league baseball team without having a Facebook account, then Facebook can start shifting its surpluses to advertisers and other business-users of the platform, who will pay Facebook to interpose themselves in your use of the platform. You’ll hate it, but you won’t leave. Junior loves little-league.

Facebook can enshittify its user experience because the users are now locked in, holding each other hostage. If Facebook can use the courts and technological countermeasures to block interoperable services, it can increase its users’ switching costs, producing more opportunities for lucrative enshittification without the risk of losing the users that make Facebook valuable to advertisers. That’s why Facebook pioneered so many legal tactics for criminalizing interoperability:

https://www.eff.org/cases/facebook-v-power-ventures

This is the second phase of the toxic platform life-cycle: luring in business customers by shifting surpluses from users to advertisers, sellers, etc. This is the moment when the platforms offer cheap and easy monetization, low transaction fees, few barriers to off-platform monetization, etc. This is when, for example, a news organization can tease an article on its website with an off-platform link, luring users to click through and see the ads it controls.

Because Facebook has locked in its users through mutual hostage-taking, it can pollute their feeds with lots of these posts to news organizations’ sites, bumping down the messages from its users’ friends, and that means that Facebook can selectively tune how much traffic it gives to different kinds of business customers. If Facebook wants to lure in sports sites, it can cram those sites’ posts into millions of users’ feeds and send floods of traffic to sports outlets.

Outlets that don’t participate in Facebook lose out, and so they join Facebook, start shoveling their content into it, hiring SEO Kremlinologists to help them figure out how to please The Algorithm, in hopes of gaining a permanent, durable source of readers (and thus revenue) for their site.

But ironically, once a critical mass of sports sites are on Facebook, Facebook no longer needs to prioritize sports sites in its users’ feeds. Now that the sports sites all believe that a Facebook presence is a competitive necessity, they will hold each other hostage there, egging each other on to put more things on Facebook, even as the traffic dwindles.

Once sports sites have taken each other hostage, Facebook can claw back the surplus it allocated to them and use it to rope in another sector — health sites, casual games, employment seekers, financial advisors, etc etc. Each group is ensnared by a similar dynamic to the one that locks in the users.

But there is a difference between users’ surpluses and business’s surpluses. A user’s surplus is attention, and there is no such thing as an “attention economy.” You can’t use attention to pay for data-centers, or executive bonuses, or to lobby Congress. Attention is not a currency in the same way that cryptos are not currency — it is not a store of value, nor a unit of exchange, nor or a unit of account.

Turning attention into money requires the same tactics as turning crypto into money — you have to lure in people who have real, actual money and convince them to swap it for attention. With crypto, this involved paying Larry David, Matt Damon, Spike Lee and LeBron James to lie about crypto’s future in order to rope in suckers who would swap their perfectly cromulent “fiat” money for unspendable crypto tokens.

With platforms, you need to bring in business customers who get paid in actual cash and convince them to give you that cash in exchange for ethereal, fast-evaporating, inconstant, unmeasurable “attention.” This works like any Ponzi scheme (that is, it works like cryptos): you can use your shareholders’ cash to pay short-term returns to business customers, losing a little money as a convincer that brings in more trade.

That’s what Facebook did when it sent enormous amounts of traffic to a select few news-sites that fell for the pivot to video fraud, in order to convince their competitors to borrow billions of dollars to finance Facebook’s bid to compete with Youtube:

https://doctorow.medium.com/metaverse-means-pivot-to-video-adbe09319038

This convincer strategy is found in every con. If you go to the county fair, you’ll see some poor bastard walking around all day with a giant teddy bear that he “won” by throwing three balls into a peach-basket. The carny who operated that midway game let him win the teddy precisely so that he would walk around all day, advertising the game, which is rigged so that no one else wins the giant teddy-bear:

https://boingboing.net/2006/08/27/rigged-carny-game.html

Social media platforms can allocate giant teddy-bears to business-customers, and it can also withdraw them at will. Careful allocations mean that the platform can rope in a critical mass of business customers and then begin the final phase of its life-cycle: allocating surpluses to its shareholders.

We know what this looks like.

Rigged ad-markets:

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

Understaffed content moderation departments:

https://www.dw.com/en/twitters-sacking-of-content-moderators-will-backfire-experts-warn/a-63778330

Knock-off products:

https://techcrunch.com/2021/12/08/twitter-is-the-latest-platform-to-test-a-tiktok-copycat-feature/

Nuking “trust and safety”:

https://www.reuters.com/technology/twitter-dissolves-trust-safety-council-2022-12-13/

Hiding posts that have links to rival services:

https://www.makeuseof.com/content-types-facebook-hides-why/

Or blocking posts that link to rival services:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/19/better-failure/#let-my-tweeters-go

Or worse, terminating accounts for linking to rival services:

https://blog.joinmastodon.org/2022/12/twitter-suspends-mastodon-account-prevents-sharing-links/

That is, once a platform has its users locked in, and has its business customers locked in, it can enshittify its service to the point of near uselessness without losing either, allocating all the useful surplus in the business to its shareholders.

But this strategy has a problem: users and business customers don’t like to be locked in! They will constantly try to find ways to de-enshittify your service and/or leave for greener pastures. And being at war with your users and business customers means that your reputation continuously declines, because every time a user or business customer figures out a way to claw back some surplus, you have to visibly, obviously enshittify your service wrestle it back.

Every time a service makes headlines for blocking an ad-blocker, or increasing its transaction fees, or screwing over its users or business customers in some other way, it makes the case that the price you pay for using the service is not worth the value it delivers.

In other words, the platforms try to establish an equilibrium where they only leave business customers and users with the absolute bare minimum needed to keep them on the service, and extract the rest for their shareholders. But this is a very brittle equilibrium, because the prices that platforms impose on their users and business customers can change very quickly, even if the platforms don’t do anything differently.

Users and business customers can revalue the privacy costs, or the risks of staying on the platform based on exogenous factors. Privacy scandals and other ruptures can make the cost you’ve been paying for years seem higher than you realized and no longer worth it.

This problem isn’t unique to social media platforms, either. It’s endemic to end-stage capitalism, where companies can go on for years paying their workers just barely enough to survive (or even less, expecting them to get public assistance and/or a side-hustle), and those workers can tolerate it, and tolerate it, and tolerate it — until one day, they stop.

The Great Resignation, Quiet Quitting, the mass desertions from the gig economy — they all prove the Stein’s Law: “Anything that can’t go on forever will eventually stop.”

Same for long, brittle supply-chains, where all the surplus has been squeezed out: concentrating all the microchip production in China and Taiwan, all the medical saline in Puerto Rico, all the shipping into three cartels… This strategy works well, and can be perfectly tuned with mathematical models that cut right to the joint, and they work and they work.

Until they stop. Until covid. Or war. Or wildfires. Or floods. Or interest rate hikes. Or revolution. All this stuff works great until you wake up and discover that the delicate balance between paying for guard labor and paying for a fair society has tilted, and now there’s a mob building a guillotine outside the gates of your luxury compound.

This is the force underpinning collapse: “slow at first, then all at once.” A steady erosion of the failsafes, flensing all the slack out of the system, extracting all the surpluses until there’s nothing left in the reservoir, no reason to stay.

It’s what caused the near-collapse of Barnes and Noble, and while there are plenty of ways to describe James Daunt’s successful turnaround, the most general characterization is, “He has reallocated the company’s surpluses to workers, readers, writers and publishers”:

https://tedgioia.substack.com/p/what-can-we-learn-from-barnes-and

A system can never truly stabilize. This is why utopias are nonsense: even if you design the most perfect society in which everything works brilliantly, it will still have to cope with war and meteors and pandemics and other factors beyond your control. A system can’t just work well, it has to fail well.

This is why I object so strenuously to people who characterize my 2017 novel Walkaway as a “dystopian novel.” Yes, the protagonists are eking out survival amidst a climate emergency and a failing state, but they aren’t giving up, they’re building something new:

https://locusmag.com/2017/06/bruce-sterling-reviews-cory-doctorow/

“Dystopia” isn’t when things go wrong. Assuming nothing will go wrong doesn’t make you an optimist, it makes you an asshole. A dangerous asshole. Assuming nothing will go wrong is why they didn’t put enough lifeboats on the Titanic. Dystopia isn’t where things go wrong. Dystopia is when things go wrong, and nothing can be done about it.

Anything that can’t go on forever will eventually stop. The social media barons who reeled users and business customers into a mutual hostage-taking were confident that their self-licking ice-cream cone — in which we all continued to energetically produce surpluses for them to harvest, because we couldn’t afford to leave — would last forever.

They were wrong. The important thing about the Fediverse isn’t that it’s noncommercial or decentralized — it’s that its design impedes surplus harvesting. The Fediverse is designed to keep switching costs as low as possible, by enshrining the Right Of Exit into the technical architecture of the system. The ability to leave a service without paying a price is the best defense we have against the scourge of enshittification.

(Thanks to Tim Harford for inspiring this column via an offhand remark in his kitchen a couple months ago!)

[Image ID: The Phillip Medhurst Picture Torah 397. The Israelites collect manna. Exodus cap 16 v 14. Luyken and son.]

[d0youc0py]

Can you do like the 141 taskforce+könig crying and not wanting the reader see. But then the reader walks in the room and started to comfort them.

“Could you pass these to Ghost? They need his signature.” You hummed in response taking the folder from Price.

“Sending me to find the grump. Real nice Cap.” You groaned playfully. Price let out a soft chuckle and you could feel the eye roll as you shut the office door behind you.

You were actually looking forward to tracking him down. He’d been different lately. Colder, snippier. At least to you it was unusual. Soap explained to you that’s how Ghost was way before you joined, and it took a lot of work to get the masked man to where he was now- a relatively happy human being. You thought Johnny just wanted some glory, but you were starting to think he was telling the truth.

“Lieu.” You chirped, the large, metal door to the roof creaked and whined as you shut it. You knew you’d find him here. It’s the only place he can smoke. He had his back against the wall, and he quickly put out his cigarette on your arrival. “Don’t have to stop for me.”

“And listen to you fake cough for twenty minutes?” He huffed. You plopped down next to him. His mask rested on his knee, his head facing the opposite direction of where you were.

“Cap wanted you to sign these.” You said, handing the file over. He grabbed it, surprised by how light it was.

“It’s empty.” He swallowed a chuckle.

“What?” You leaned over your shoulder pressing against his. An empty file folder stared back at you. Maybe the papers fell out in the hallway? You hoped it wasn’t confidential.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a Price tactic.” He groaned. “He just wanted to give you a reason to come check on me.” Simon sighed resting his upper face against his palms.

“Why me.” You mumbled.

“Cause he knows I won’t bite your head off.” Simon finally looked over at you a small smirk on his lips.

“You’ve been crying?” You almost gasped, taking in the red blotches across his face. His brows furrowed.

“No.” He spat. “Probably gettin’ sunburnt.”

“It’s okay to cry Lieu.” You pressed. He huffed again.

“I wasn’t crying.” He pressed back.

“I cry.” You commented.

“You think I don’t know that? How many times have you slobbered all over me since we’ve been working together.” The comment made you chuckle. Simon had been your shoulder to cry on during more than one occasion.

“You’re right.” You tsked, resting your head against his shoulder. He tensed but let his body relax. “You know I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to slobber all over me for a change.” You whispered.

He didn’t say anything, but the way his hand squeezed yours provided more emotion than any of his words could.

It was always a challenging adjustment, going from Captain with thousands of people relying on you to just being John. It didn’t help that his home was a recluse cottage in the English countryside. To most people it was something out of a storybook, to him though- it was a type of prison. It was so quiet- except for birds chirping and the sound of trickling water from a nearby stream. He didn’t deserve such tranquility. It wasn’t a home to him, just a place he could get drunk and sleep it off- maybe cry if he had the energy.

That was until he met you.

When you told him you couldn’t go on leave with him this time he quickly threw himself back into his old habits as soon as he walked through the door of his ‘home.’ You had made it a home. The whole place felt of you. You had turned the dark, run down cottage into a sanctuary, but without you physically there it resembled the prison he was much more familiar with. He grabbed a brand new bottle of scotch from the cabinet, quickly retreating into the bedroom.

Without you there he had no place to hide. Nothing to take his mind off of work. He was just John. Completely useless John.

You hoped he wasn’t upset at you. You had a family emergency and you just thought it would be better if he didn’t come with you. You didn’t need to expose him to that mess. Yet as the phone went to his voicemail for the tenth time you wondered if you had maybe made the wrong call.

“Hey Cap, it’s me, again. Listen I hope you aren’t upset at me, I don’t think you are but”- You cut yourself off. “Call me back please? I should be able to wrap up here in a day or two. Love you.” You hung up with a sigh.

You had kept your promise and the family affair only took another day to sort out.

“Cap!” You yelled, shutting the door behind you. The weather outside was depressing, matching the atmosphere inside. Complete silence. “Cap!” You tried again. You trudge up the narrow steps of the cottage, already having a feeling where he was. The bedroom door was wide open, he was sprawled out on his stomach, his back rising and falling as he slept. You grabbed the empty bottle off the floor, and trudged back down the stairs, starting on dinner. You felt horribly responsible.

He had opened up here and there about how he struggled during leave. You didn’t doubt it. He was always so composed during missions that it only seemed natural for it to all come to a boiling point sometime. A loud shout from upstairs snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped at the sound, your feet making quick work up the stairs.

“Cap?” You asked quietly. You could hear his labored breathing from down the hall. He had flung his legs over the bed his head buried in his hands. The sound of your voice caused his head to snap up. He rubbed at his face, but you caught a few glistening tears.

“I didn’t know you were here.” He offered you a fake smile, trying his best to cover up his embarrassment.

“You alright?” You began to walk towards him but he stood up waving you off.

“Sometimes my mind wanders away from me when I sleep, nothin for you to worry about.” He assured, digging in his closet for a shirt.

“I didn’t know you had nightmares.” You continued, sitting on the edge of his bed. He waved you off again. “I was worried, you know?” You sighed. He rolled his shoulders, joining you on the bed. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

“I know it must be hard having everyone rely on you all the time, but you need someone too, John. You deserve a break, you deserve to be happy- actually you deserve it more than anyone I know.” You wrapped your arm up with his, leaning against his shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken so softly to him. He wondered if anyone ever had spoken to him in this way. It made the last few bricks of his wall crumble and he let a few silent tears roll down his face. Neither of you made any move to wipe them away.

You groaned quietly to yourself as a knock clamored through your room.

“Come in!” You shouted. The door knob made no move to open. You shrugged, reburying yourself under the covers.

Another knock.

“Come in!” You shouted again. The door didn’t even budge.

Another knock.

“Steamin Jesus.” You growled, throwing the covers off of you. You opened the door, only to come face to face with a teary eyed Johnny.

“Bubbles?” You questioned softly. “What happened?” He threw you a smile.

“Nothing.” He denied.

“You’re shaking, Jo.” Your hands rested against his arms.

“Tough workout.” He said quickly.

“That’s also why you’re panting?” You continued. He nodded his head.

“I didn’t even know the gym was open this late- or should I say early.” You hummed looking over at the clock. Your eyes met his again.

“Goodnight.” He said suddenly, opening the door next to yours. He disappeared into his room. You groaned softly, closing the door. You walked back over to your bed, stopping at the door that conjoined your room with his. You didn’t bother to knock as you slowly creaked it open.

Even in the darkness you could find him hiding underneath the bedsheets. His large body took up most of the bed so you just plopped down on top of him. “Jo.” You hummed. Your hand snaked its way under the covers, petting at his hair. “Why’re you sad?”

“Not sad.” He insisted. “Thought you called me so I went to check on you.”

“If you’re going to lie to me I’m not going to cuddle you.” You sighed moving to get up. He acted fast, wrapping you up in his blanket, nuzzling his face between your cheek and the pillow.

“Had a bad dream.” He finally muttered out.

“I understand, that last mission was a rough one.” You soothed scratching up and down his back. He shook his head.

“Wasn’t about work.” He sighed, his grip on you tightening.

“You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head, shamelessly breathing in your scent. “Okay.” You smiled softly. You pulled the sheets up, doing your best to tuck the both of you in. “You never have to feel bad about coming to me, you know. You always take care of me, it’s about time I started repaying the favor.” You spoke, giving him a squeeze. You didn’t mention it when you felt his wet tear roll down your neck.

“Oh, I’m sorry Ky!” You sputtered quickly. He had forgotten to lock the bathroom door. Luckily he wasn’t in a compromising position.

“It’s alright.” He said quickly, splashing his face with cold water, praying you didn’t noticed the redness around his eyes.

“You okay.” You asked softly. Of course you noticed. No one could ever get anything past you.

“I’m fine.” He responded curtly. You bit your lip, taking the cue to shut the door. That wasn’t the last time you would see him with a similar appearance.

He had been dodging everyone. The normal life-of-the-party quickly turning into a bad attitude that even made Ghost uncomfortable. He had dark circles under his puffy eyes, and his voice was so hoarse that when he did speak it caused you to wince. It took you a whole day to finally corner him.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” You said, stepping onto the fire escape.

“I don’t.” He responded bluntly, taking another drag. You sighed, grabbing the little white stick before putting it out on a cigar filled ashtray. He scratched at his forehead, leaning back against the cold bars. You sat down next to him, not bothering to say a word. You just stared at him. “What?” He chuckled dryly. It was obvious he was growing uncomfortable under your gaze. “What’s your problem.” He snapped.

“What’s your problem?” You chided back. His face softened.

“Nothin.”

“Knock it off, Ky.” You snipped. He opened his mouth, the edges of his lips curling. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “Why won’t you let anyone help you? Everyone has tried to pry what’s going on out of you but all you’ve done is brush people off. We’re a family, Ky.” Your voice was soft, so soft it sent a shiver down his spine.

“People already don’t take me seriously. The last thing I need is for someone to pin me as a baby.” He muttered through a clenched jaw.

“Ky, no one thinks of you that way.” You gasped, resting your chin against his shoulder. You tangled your arms with his. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Mom’s sick again.” He admitted. “I know she’s taken care of back home but I just wish I could do more.” He quickly wiped a tear that escaped his eye.

“Ky, I’m so sorry.” You whispered, squeezing his arm. “You talk to Cap? I’m sure he’d excuse you.” He quickly shook his head.

“Don’t want any special treatment. Besides she’s kill me if I make a fuss over her, she’s already mad that I’ve been callin her twice a day.” He let out a light chuckle. “She’ll be fine, she always is.”

“You must get your toughness from her, uh?” You smiled.

“I like to think so.” He smirked.

If there was one thing Konig hated most in the world it was room full of loud, drunk, strangers. So when the team demanded they go out to celebrate he quickly declared he had a load of paperwork to do. It wasn’t until he overheard Horangi complement how good you looked in your civilian clothes did he decide to tag along. He was colonel after all, couldn’t let his team make an utter fool of themselves.

He felt sick before the car even stopped, the loud music and loud chatter easily heard from down the street. He didn’t even really like to drink. He needed to have full control over his body. Yet he was about to break that rule as all sorts of people brushed up against him. His height didn’t seem to matter here, the alcohol making people feel invincible.

“Give me a piggy-back ride!” Someone yelled from next to him. He groaned low in his throat, keeping his eyes trained on you. You quickly found the dance floor and he quickly found the perfect spot to view you from. Despite his height the hoard of people quickly caused you to fade from view.

The thought of something happening to you flickered through his mind. What if someone got handsy? He knew you could handle yourself- but he wanted to handle it for you. With another groan he left his seat in the corner of the room trudging his way through the mass of sweaty, loud people. He did take a bit of satisfaction from bumping into them a little too hard.

Where the hell were you? Trained blue eyes scanned the room from top to bottom, side to side and yet no sign of you. Were you getting swallowed up by the masses too? He wiped the sweat off his flushed forehead. It seemed never ending. The shouting. The touching. The room. The eyes. The hands. The sounds. The smells. The lights. Everything was just too much. He was about to scream when he felt a soft hand grab his. He recognized the feel of your skin instantly. He let his brain turn to mush as you pulled him out of the crowd, your sweet eyes sending him a worried glance. The hot air felt cool against his burning skin. He leaned against the wall, keeping your hand wrapped in his large one, like a lifeline.

“You alright Konnie?” You hummed, giving his hand a squeeze. He nodded his head, quickly wiping a few overwhelmed tears that managed to slip past his waterline. “Ko.” You sighed again, reaching up brushing one he missed away. His head flinched away. “Don’t be embarrassed Konnie. It was a lot- even for me.” You whispered, taking a few steps closer. His breathing had just began to come back to normal until you pressed yourself against his side.

“I hope no one else say that.” He grumbled. “I’d be unemployed.” You snickered.

“I won’t tell Konnie. I promise.”

[heauxvibez]

Gentle

warning: angst, mentions of depression/anxiety, fluff. Enjoy!

It had been days since Joe lost his match. It meant he could finally be home, taking a break from the WWE's busy schedule. You were thrilled to have him home, just the two of you for a while. Joe was excited too, or so he thought.

He released a huge sigh of relief when he was told prematurely about the outcome of his match with Cody. He loved work but also missed being home with you, and the flexibility to do what he wanted without having to make huge shifts around his work schedule. The guilt that constantly ate at him for missing milestones in your life would finally be put to ease. Your promotion at your job, your birthday, buying your first brand new car with your hard-earned money, all things he missed out on celebrating due to his work.

But as time went by, you noticed a change in him. His energy shifted dramatically. He became quieter, answering with short sentences and avoiding conversations. He barely ate, only managing to do so when taking his medication.

You had to decline many invitations because he wasn't up for crowds; they made him anxious. The bedroom became his refuge, all he wanted to do was lay in bed and rot. It was starting to worry you.

Joe himself didn't understand what was happening. He wanted to shake off this feeling, but it clung to him stubbornly. It was like he'd forgotten his place in life, his roles as your husband, friend, and son. He felt worthless. As the Tribal Chief he knew everything, life was in his control, he was in control. Nothing could phase him when he was his alternative self. His bronze skin was as thick as ever.

But as Joe, he was vulnerable and soft, his hands could barely grasp the concept of life outside of the arena. He believed that he'd let everyone down by missing important moments, especially you. Despite your support and pride in him, he couldn't shake the feeling of being resented. His anxiety whispered that you all hated him, leading him to isolate himself in the room. He thought that by avoiding interaction, he'd be less of a burden.

You were left in the dark, unsure of what was happening with him. You didn't want to jump to conclusions, but you couldn't ignore the signs of either depression or anxiety. It was a delicate situation; you didn't want to say or ask the wrong thing and risk pushing him away. You were at a loss for how to approach him without causing further distress.

"Babe..", you called out as you cracked open the door. Your head peaked in to reveal him bundled under the sheets.

"Hmm?" he hummed back, avoiding looking in your direction.

The room matched his mood—dark and cold. You approached him cautiously, arms crossed before quickly relaxing them, not wanting to convey that you were mad or upset in any way. Squatting beside the bed, you met his gaze. His hair was tousled, covering his face like cobwebs, his eyes red, lips downturned. He looked miserable.

He almost melted at the feel of your fingers feathering through the knots of his tangled beard. He hadn't groomed himself in days, so he looked a mess. But to you he still looked like perfection, just needed a little love. You searched his face, to him it felt like judgment, but for you...you were just looking for any sign of your loving husband.

"You okay?"

That question alone almost unraveled him. His eyes shut tightly, becoming a dam for the flood of tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. He covered his face with his hand when he could no longer contain the wave of emotions. He shook his head, answering your question.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry", you pleaded. You didn't know what to expect. You thought it would take a while to break through his tough exterior.

Not wanting to overwhelm him, you hadn't moved. You stayed squatted in your position, stroking the side of his face that wasn't covered by his huge hand.

"Talk to me, baby. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong," your voice, soft and gentle, began to ease the tension. It seemed to pull him back from the brink of a panic attack.

"Breathe, just talk," you urged. He took a deep breath, his exhale brushing against your face. His hand fell away from his face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and watery eyes. You met his gaze, your own eyes welling up with empathy. You fought back your tears, wanting him to feel safe expressing himself.

Joe tried to speak but faltered, closing his lips and shaking his head. He was at a loss for words, unsure of how to begin.

You let out a gentle sigh as you brushed his greasy hair away from his face. He hadn't bothered to wash it in days, neglecting self-care. As your fingers ran through his strands, an idea dawned on you. With a small smile, you met his sad eyes.

"It's been a while since you washed your hair, huh?" you remarked.

He nodded, still focused on you.

"How about we have a little wash day? I just got some new hair care stuff," you suggested.

There was a moment of silence as he considered it. He didn't want to leave the safety of the room, but he was also bothered by his oily, limp hair.

"Yeah, that sounds nice," he replied softly.

"Yeah? Let's go," you said, standing up and offering your hand. He slowly rose from the bed, taking your hand and letting you lead him to the kitchen.

Since childhood, your family had always washed hair in the kitchen sink. Moms, aunts, and cousins would have you lay flat on the counter, and it was always your favorite part of hair care, like a special ritual.

Your hair care routine had evolved. With the right products and tools, you felt like a pro, especially during tasks like washing your hair. Now, wash days were more enjoyable, and you loved washing your husband's hair too. It was a favorite bonding activity.

"Okay, lay down on the counter," you instructed.

One perk was your spacious kitchen, allowing you to recreate the wash days you cherished from childhood. He hopped onto the counter, and a bit of excitement gleamed through his eyes. It had been a while since you shared an intimate moment like this. With his travels and recent struggles, there had been little room for such simple things.

You stepped away briefly to fetch your hair care items. Your favorite line was created by Taraji P. Henson, who understood the needs of tight coils like yours. Today, you opted for the Honey Fresh clarifying shampoo to remove oils from his locs and the Make It Rain conditioner for moisture.

Returning to the kitchen, you laid out the items on the sink: shampoo, conditioner, Denman brush, wide-tooth comb, and a shower cap—everything needed to care for his hair.

You couldn't help but watch as he lay with his eyes closed, fingers intertwined on his belly. Though he didn't show it, he was eager for this wash day, just like you.

Turning on the sink, you tested the water temperature with your fingers, ensuring it was just right for his scalp.

"Okay, let me know if it's too hot or cold." you instructed. With his eyes still closed he nodded.

The water hit his scalp and you watched as his brows furrowed then relaxed.

"Is that okay?", he nodded once again,

"That's perfect."

The warm water felt like a soothing touch on his scalp, the best sensation he'd felt in days.

"Good," you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. It took a moment for the water to penetrate his hair, the oils causing it to bead off into the sink. The touch of your nails on the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine as you worked the water through his hair.

"Alright," you murmured to yourself as his hair drank in the flowing water. With a twist, you shut off the tap, the room now silent. You placed the detachable head back in its place, and your fingers found the shampoo bottle, releasing a dollop into your hand. With a soft sigh, you worked the dollop into a nice lather with your palms.

You started at his hairline, the pads of your fingers tenderly grazing his scalp. Purposefully avoiding using your acrylic nails, your touch was feather-light. You wanted to cocoon him in bliss and make sure that he was as relaxed as possible.

Your fingers trailed to the hair behind his ears, a familiar path that never failed to make him weak. His ears, his sweet spot, where the slightest touch made his toes curl. Each time your wrist brushed against his ear, he moaned softly, bringing a slight blush to your cheeks.

"Feel good?" the soft words left your lips.

"Feels great." he confessed with a contented sigh.

His response brought warmth to your heart as you continued your movements, moving towards the center of his scalp where he was often tender-headed. With gentle strokes, you massaged the area, mindful of his comfort. In this moment, you found joy in this simple act of caring for your husband.

Though you wanted to get into deeper conversations about his well-being, you hesitated, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the moment. Instead, you chose to stay silent, allowing your gentle touch to speak volumes. But Joe had other ideas.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled

"Don't be, you haven't done anything wrong," you assured. Although you knew what he meant. He felt remorseful for acting distant and pushing everyone away, but you knew it wasn't his fault. He was grappling with emotions beyond his control, and you gave him space to work through them.

"But I have, I haven't been the best husband lately. Well really in the past few years if we're going to be honest."

"Joe-"

"No, listen.." his eyes were flooding with tears again.

"I have not been the best husband in years. I thought with this time off I'd be able to make up for lost time but the more I sit with myself, I'm wondering am I capable of being a good husband? I don't even know who I am outside of Roman Reigns."

Tears were now flowing freely down the side of his eyes and into his hair. For the past 4 years, he had been an alternative version of himself. He completely immersed himself into a character and with the time he had to actually sit with himself, he realized he wasn't really sure who Joe was.

Tears were now rolling down your face. It hurt to see him doubt himself like this. You knew who he was—Joe and Roman were completely different. It was hard to believe he couldn't see it; he was struggling with imposter syndrome.

You wiped your tears away with your wrist, trying to steady yourself. You needed him to know that you didn't share his negative feelings about himself.

"Well, your feelings are valid, baby, and I never want you to feel otherwise. But just because they're valid doesn't mean they're right."

You rinsed the shampoo out of his hair with the detachable head of the sink.

"You might not see the difference between Roman and Joe, but I do. I'm not in love with Roman; I'm in love with Joe. I didn't marry Roman; I married Joe. Roman is manipulative, selfish, cold-hearted—wicked, even," you chuckled softly. Joe wiped away his tears, mirroring your laughter.

You began to wring the excess water from his hair. It was finally clean. Now, you just needed to condition and detangle.

You reached for the condition and squeezed a quarter-sized amount into your hand. Then you gently spread it through his clean hair.

"But Joe.. Joe is sweet, he's vulnerable, and he would give the shirt off of his back to anyone in need. We all love Joe and we understand that just because you're away it doesn't mean you're neglectful, you're doing what you have to do to support your family. Joe is a husband, he's a son, he's a family man, he's a sweetheart, he's you."

Using the Denman brush, you carefully distributed the conditioner and untangled his hair, avoiding any painful pulls.

"You are not Roman, you are Joe. Do you understand?", you asked, pausing to catch his gaze. He kept staring ahead.

"Look at me," you said softly, but firmly. His eyes met yours, resembling those of a puppy.

"Do you understand?"

His lips curved into a soft smile and he nodded.

"Yes, I understand, baby," he affirmed. Leaning in, you tenderly brushed your lips against his forehead, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath yours. Then, with a gentle passion, you pressed your lips to his, sparking a feeling that had been dormant for too long.

As you pulled away, you couldn't help but shower him with one last sweet kiss on the tip of his nose before getting back to his hair.

"I know it's going to take time for you to adjust, and I understand it won't be easy. But I want you to know, I'll be here every step of the way. I promise," your voice was filled with unwavering support.

Carefully, you lifted his head to secure the shower cap, ensuring his hair received the deep conditioning treatment it deserved for the next 10 minutes.

"Thank you, for everything...I love you," he whispered, his words carrying deep gratitude and love.

"I love you too, handsome," you said, your heart brimming with excitement as you anticipated having your husband return to his true self.

---------------------------

Hope yall enjoyed!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx @theninthwonder

[joffyworld]

A Celebration

I wanted to make this post as a post-October celebration of my experiences here.

You've all been amazing. Each and every one of you. To anyone who ever sees this, consider us friends and kindred spirits. I mean that from the bottom of my heart, Joffy is a friend to all! I understand some fear para-sociality, and rightly so. I know it's a bit of a dirty word, but while I may never know you in real life, while I may always be a stranger on the internet, that does not preclude kindness from our times here. You are all people, as am I, and there is no illusion of the opposite on my end.

I came into this community just a month ago, driven almost purely by an obsession with the TROD au written by the amazing @bamsara. Since then, I have fallen in love with so many AU's, so many fics, so many oneshots, and so many pieces that I never would have found otherwise, from the horrific cannibalistic nightmares of @teruuu and @yellowflowrs, to the cute and joyous wonders of artists like @junoberrii, @the-artist-grimm, @spiderin-space, @zynical-forg , @7-ferrets-in-a-coat, @cconfusedkat, @frecktheheck, @lagomorphics and @lil-vibes to the beautifully shameless smut and humour of @melle-d, the wonderous fantastical realms of artists like @aychama, @aniimoni and @stychu-stych and the incredibly well written and crushing experiences of writers such as @kiko---random-stuff-probably, @olrinarts and @alllgator-blood. It has all been an incredible experience to watch, every single shade and genre of art and creativity, and I wouldn't have it any other way! I never expected to have so much fun, so much joy, and such a range of emotions all at once, yet here we are!

My welcome into this community has been astonishing. The kindness, the warmth, the laughs, the tears, the silliness, the naughtiness, the evil, the good. It's all been such a wonder to behold. That's not even mentioning the activism, the understanding and the fundraising I've seen with my own eyes! You've all bred a community of love here, and each and every one of you should be proud of that.

Every mutual I make, I am reminded that kindness breeds kindness. When I started this blog, my only wish was to indulge my madness until it passed, to see if maybe instead of suppressing my own interests, indulging them could perhaps instead lead to a less anxious conclusion? I had often been consumed with anxiety as I fought to pretend I was "normal" and it's always been a tough thing for me. By God has being here helped.

I have embraced who I am as a person, I have learnt things about communities I knew nothing about. I've grown empathies for groups I once found hard to relate to, I've felt joy and comfort from strangers where the world has oft left me dejected. I've met so many people similar to me, completely different from me, and all that lies in-between.

I have met the most beautiful souls in the world, I've seen works of art that made me marvel them as though they were classics of antiquity. I've engaged in silly debates, I've interacted with people I look up to so deeply, I've seen talents I didn't know exist. Most of all, I have found a community that understands me, from the autistic and disabled to the regularly deranged and beautifully obsessed <3

And all of this has inspired me to write my own content, to indulge my own mind in ways I have long tried to leave behind, and find my own stride among the crowd of similarly inspired people. To say the words of you people have changed me is to lie, because it doesn't even begin to describe it.

To anyone I haven't directly @'d, I apologise. I wish I could plug you all, but my memory is fragile, and I'm on the mobile app. But know, that whoever you are, friend or foe, you are ASTONISHING. And should I wake up and remember your names, I'd gladly add them with your permissions. There's not a single person I've seen that hasn't amazed me in brand new ways each time, and every time I compliment your works I mean it from the bottom of my soul.

And to anyone who reads this, whether they be an artist, writer, creator of any stripe, or simply a friendly face or a lurking presence in the shadows:

Thank You,

Thank You So Much,

Joffy