#Unlike all the other corporate CEOs

[yeetus-feetus]

Jaime from 'Batman: The Brave and The Bold' should get adopted. Like obviously not legally because he already has parents, but like a Stephanie situation where he's basically B's kid coz he hangs around all the time.

Billy Batson should get actually adopted though. His siblings too, obvi.

And like Wally and Donna are basically his kids too because of Dick.

I bet he refers to Donna and Dick as his twins.

Actually all his "friends" kids are his kids now too. That means Lizzie, Jon, Kon, Roy, Mia, Connor.

(Ollie and B are so an item in the brave & the bold actually, I could write a whole thesis on their sexual tension)

Anyone who dates B's legal kids are automatically also his kids now. Congratulations Bernard you're adopted, at least Bruce isn't homophobic.

Just someone asks Bruce about how many kids he has exactly and he starts counting on his fingers, then out loud he says "wait- is that one legally my child??"

Or someone sees a photo on his desk at the office and goes "wow are those your kids?"

And B's like, "yeah all my mine. They make me so proud everyday". And only one of those kids is actually his.

Or Bruce has one of those fold out photo things in his wallet and he's showing everyone his 'daughters'. And it's Donna, Babs, Kori, Helena, Cass, Cassie, Stephanie, Kara and Lizzie. Even Raven maybe because she dated Damian at one point.

"oh wow, so many! I thought you only had just the two girls?"

"no no, these are all my lovely girls. They're so smart and I'm so proud of my babies".

"isn't that one Commisioner Gordon's girl?"

"uh. Yeah I guess.. but she's basically my daughter".

"Sure Mr. Wayne."

Or it's a Wayne Gala and he's brought along some of his honourary kids and one of the other rich people is like "oh who's this? I didn't recall you picking up another stray."

"he's not a stray he's my son."

And Jaime's just thinking "what? Did I just get adopted? I already have parents?" But it's honestly his own fault for hanging around so often and accepting the invite to the gala. It's not like Bman went out looking for more kids they just showed up on they're own and now they're his.

I mean B is the one looking after them and teaching them and making sure most of them don't die so. And Alfred feeds them all. They sleep over at the Manor more often than not. So they are his kids now right?

Right?

Anyways, Bruce loves all his kids. Even if they drive him absolutely insane. He's got grey hairs because there's so many of them now lol.

[bluebirdsfeathers]

Corporate Life

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Relationship: Ceo!Wanda X Butch!Loser!Reader

Summary: The disappointment of not being picked to be Wanda’s intern wasn’t going to stop you from settling into corporate life. Especially since you were assigned to work with her brother, Pietro, and she always found excuses to visit.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: age gap relationship (R is early 20s, W is like 40), no smut here but we might get there later (no promises tho).

A/N: I have an essay due that is less words than this and yet here we are. I’m going to introduce more marvel character each part. I have no idea how many parts this will end up being, but I know how it will end.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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──────･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

The subway on a weekday morning was something you knew you’d never get used to. Everyone in a rush to get somewhere yet somehow nobody was moving even remotely fast. It was a miracle you’d gotten on a train and not just swept away by a mudslide of office workers. Heading into work you made you was straight to the elevators and back up to the third floor. Today you would be assigned to a department of the paper, and the anticipation was making you nervous. Unlike yesterday you were slightly early and where shocked to find you were the first one there. Taking a seat inside the conference room you were told to meet at, you pulled out your phone and began scrolling Instagram.

“I’ve never understood the obsession with social media,” A unfamiliar voice broke the silence, and you jumped slightly putting your phone down, “My apologies I thought you heard me come in.” Wanda smirked walking towards the other end of the long table, placing down some files, before walking back towards you. “I thought the paper was branching out into social media content?” Your voice came out a little higher than usual. Wanda stopped behind you placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a light squeeze “We are… but that has nothing to do with me.” She said with a laugh before leaving the room.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the interns showed up along with Dr Banner, as he told you to call him, who you’d met yesterday. He looked to be around fifty with greying hair and a permanently sad expression. One of the first things he’d done was list his multiple degrees and explain how he’d ended up working here as an environmental science editor. The Westview Paper was one of the oldest most prestigious news sources in the country, maybe even the world. It had been in the Maximoff family since the 1950s, now being run by Wanda since her father’s retirement. Today you would find out what department you would be interning in for the next six months. Dr Banner handed out an envelope to each intern, rambling on about how pointlessly dramatic this all was and how he had other more important things to do than this. Everyone was quick to open their envelopes, the wait was just too much.

Your file read ‘Sports and Fitness’ in bold at the top. You’d been on the women’s basketball team in college and had spoken about it in your interview, you loved sports so this should be a perfect fit, but you couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed, she hadn’t picked you. “Lads look, I’m Wanda’s intern!” You turn to see Theo, who in this moment you decided you hated, holding up his file to the room looking far too smug. “I guess that proves I’m the alpha here.” You didn’t even entertain him with forced laughter like the others, you simply grabbed your bag and file and left to find a quiet spot to read. You discovered you’d be working for Pietro Maximoff, a quick google search told you that was Wanda’s brother and the head of that department. The file told you everything that would be expected of you over the next few months, some big and small goals as well as a weekly schedule that by the look of didn’t have you meeting with Pietro for a few hours.

To kill time, you decided to have a wonder around the building, the tour yesterday had given you a better understanding of the layout, but you still weren’t confident you could get from a to b without getting a little lost. Round every was another impossibly long corridor lined with doors and window into almost identical rooms that occasionally showed signs of life. As you rounded what must have been the fifth corner you saw a now familiar red head seemingly yelling at a room of men in suits. You stopped walking unsure whether to turn back or keep going like you hadn’t seen anything but before you could react the door to the room opened and the men hurried out, their heads held low like children after being told off. Your eyes went back to the room where Wanda stood, eyes closed, taking several slow deep breaths. Deciding it would be best to leave before you stumble upon something else you weren’t meant to see you turned around only to be stopped by Wanda calling your name.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” It was hard to read her tone, and a pit formed in your stomach worried you’d upset her. “I was just… familiarising myself with the building. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to.” You stumbled all over your words. “I should go I need to meet Pietro soon and I…” Wanda’s eyes lit up and a smile graced her face “Of course you’re his intern, why don’t I walk you?” You tried to politely refuse her offer, not wanting to be a bother, but she out right refused to take no for an answer, especially after you let it slip you didn’t know where his office was. Turns out it wasn’t far, one floor down and across the walkway and you where there.

The sports department was unlike the other places you been shown so far. It was lively with open plan desks, no cubicles or grey walls, instead hanging around the room was a variety of different countries flags and sports team memorabilia. The staff talked freely amongst themselves; you expected the noise to die down when Wanda entered but it didn’t. You watched her talk with them and share a joke or two, a stark contrast to the rage you’d seen her display moments ago. “Now where is he?” She asked the man she’d been talking to.

“Wanda!” You heard an excited voice call from across the room, “Wands! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about this side of the building. We’re still being published right?” Pietro’s smile was the same as Wanda’s, warm with a slight hint of mischief. He was much taller than her, with bleach blonde hair and light stubble. “This must be y/n? Great to finally put a face to the name.” He said giving you a playful tap to the arm. “Look Wands I would love to catch up, but I need to get y/n settled.”

“Actually, there is something I need to talk to you about, but we need to discuss that in private. Can I steel you at some point tomorrow?”

“Yeah sure, you have my schedule so let me know when you are free.”

With that Wanda gave you both a smile and left.

Pietro made fast work of the power point he has prepared, and you were glad to hear business wear wasn’t mandatory in his department. Which was a relief as you only had two formal shirts and you’d already worn both. He sent you home early after reassuring you the missing hours wouldn’t come out of your wages and any disappointment over Wanda not picking you was gone. You were going to really enjoy having him for a boss.

The rest of the week went by quickly, you had so much work to be getting on with and so many people to get to know. Your desk was right by Pietro’s so he could keep an eye on you and help you when you needed it. You looked at the clock, it was quarter to five already, almost time to go home for the weekend. That was something you were excited about. This internship only had you working Monday to Friday, that meant you had the whole weekend to yourself. As you hit save for the last time on what you were working on you heard the door on the far end of the room open and looked up to see Wanda followed closely by Theo.

“Hi, Pietro, this is Theo, Theo this is my brother, Pietro. Y/n, you remember Theo, don’t you?” You nodded and watched as the two men shook hands. Yes, you did remember Theo, how could you forget a man that reminded you of all your high school bullies rolled into one and served with a silver spoon. “What do we owe the pleasure?” Pietro asked playfully.

“Oh, you know, just making the rounds, checking on all the new recruits at the end of the first week.”

“We are? I thought you said you needed to check on something important?” Theo said obliviously and Wanda gave a nervous laugh. “The wellbeing of my employees is important Theo. Now y/n how have you been?” You tried and failed to meet Wanda’s eyes as she gave you her full attention. “Good.” Was all you could squeeze out; you didn’t understand why she still made you so nervous. “He hasn’t been working you too hard has he.” Her voice was light and had the same playful tone as Pietro’s. Finally, you found it in you to look her in face and were surprised to see a slight blush that almost matched your own. “No, he hasn’t.” you said leaving an awkward silence in the air. “Well, we better head off, enjoy your weekend, and I’ll see you Monday.” Without another word Wanda left, Theo once again following closely behind.

It wasn’t long before the excitement and novelty of your new job wore off and all you longed for was the weekend. You’d gotten to know lots more faces around the office, even the lady at the front desk. You learnt her name was Pam and she wasn’t a huge bitch like you initially thought, she was just going through a divorce and her ex-husband, Jerry, was the worst. Somehow, you’d managed to develop a sense of normalcy working in this place. The only thing that kept you on edge were the surprise visits Wanda would do to the department; she was always finding a reason to come down here. Most made sense, like visiting her brother, checking on what stories were being published, but other times it felt like she was going out of her way to poke her head in seemingly just to talk to you, which hadn’t gotten easier yet.

Earlier today, while waiting for a copy of an article she’d tried to start a conversation with you. “I like your t-shirt.” Wanda said as she sat on your desk. “t-thanks, I like your blouse it’s… pink?” You said in return, unsure what to say. “What does it say? Radio head? I didn’t think young people listened to the radio these days.” She said lightly grazing her fingers across your arm. “Oh, Radio Head are a band… like music and stuff.” You shifted awkwardly in your chair, turning back to focus on your work. Pietro returned with the article and Wanda got up and left, giving you a light pat on the back as she walked past you.

The memory of that encounter played on your mind as you got ready to leave work for the day. “Y/n! Hey, I need to head to a meeting, I know you’re about to go home but can you go upstairs to Wanda’s office and drop this off? She needs to approve it before it goes to print.” Pietro handed you the latest copy of the sports news magazine, Wanda was big on seeing the final product physically before it was sent of to print so you agreed to drop it off in her office. She was never there anyway, far too busy to sit down with the election cycle going on. You headed to the lift pressing the very top button to take you all the way to the thirteenth floor, Pietro had given you his ID to get clearance to do so. Once the elevator doors opened, you walked into what looked like a living room, but what was just a very fancy looking wating area. There was a door to the left you assumed to be a bathroom and two large doors straight ahead that must lead to her office. You thought about whether to just leaving the magazine on the coffee table but before you could the large doors swung open.

“I don’t care who his father is! I’ve had enough of him! Who does he think he is anyway selling information to…” Wanda stopped her tirade when she saw you standing there with an expression of shock on your face. “Y/n? What are you doing up here?” She slightly snapped at you.

“Pietro told me to give you this.” You held out the magazine visibly trembling. “I’m sorry Ms Maximoff, I didn’t know you’d be here.” You voice shook slightly as you tried to stay calm while rapidly pressing the elevator button. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m leaving now.” The doors finally opened, and you hurried inside. “Y/n wait I didn’t mean to…” Wanda’s words were cut off by the doors closing as the lift took you back to the second floor. Breathing heavily, you tried to calm yourself down. You should have just dropped of the magazine and gotten out of there. Why must you always get yourself in these types of situations? You hoped it would be a while before you’d next see Wanda, maybe she would have forgotten all about it by then. Realising you were still clutching the magazine; you headed back to the sports department. Placing it on Pietro’s desk, along with his ID, you wrote a post-it note apologising, hoping he wouldn’t be too disappointed with you. All you could think about on your commute home was how angry Wanda looked over whatever it was she was yelling about. It scared you how she can be so warm and friendly one second then completely switch the next. Sometimes you forgot how rich and powerful she really was.

Once inside your apartment you kicked off your shoe’s and sat down on your mattress now being held up by your nice new bedframe. The money you’d earned from this job was improving your life greatly. You’d bought a new pair of trainers without having to wait for your current ones to be falling apart. If this mistake today ended up costing you your job, you’d never forgive yourself. Taking out your phone you decided to take your mind off things by clearing out some work emails you hadn’t gotten around to today but at the top of your inbox was a new message sent only five minutes ago. It was addressed to all the interns and marked urgent.

The subject read: ‘Meeting tomorrow 9am, Floor: 3 Room: 24B’. A new wave of panic washed over you when you saw it was sent by Wanda.

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inspired by this post by @wandaslittlehorns

[cognitiveoverload]

Nobody got you the way I do (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: One of your employees turns out to be a serial killer, and the BAU suspects that he might want to hurt you too, so they want to make sure you're safe. Hotch takes it a little too seriously, and there's a reason for that.

note: I'm not so sure about this one, I don't know why. But this is the robotics expert!CEO!reader story I mentioned in the poll.

tags: afab!reader, overprotective!Hotch, brat tamer!Hotch?

wc: 5.4k

“I told you not to bother me today.”

Your assistant, Lizzie, is the only one at this company who spends the entire day in high heels, which is why the familiar clicking sound lets you know it’s her who entered your private lab. Since you know who it is, you don’t even look up from the prosthetic arm you have lying on the table in front of you, connected to your laptop to spend the day fixing the damn thing. A deadline is coming up, and you took charge of this pet project of yours, this is why you are dead serious when you ask your employees to respect your request to leave you alone for now. 

She lets out a hesitant hum as she steps closer to you, leaning down so you can hear her clearly even when she speaks quietly. “Two FBI agents are here to see you. They said it was important,” she tells you. 

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you look up to find two men standing there in the room. One of them is young, maybe a few years younger than you, and his eyes are focused on the prototype you’re working on. The other? Now, that’s an interesting situation. The other agent in question is someone you have met before, at a party over half a year ago, when he helped you talk to a suicidal acquaintance who decided to pick that night to jump off the roof of the building. Unlike his colleague’s, his eyes are fixed on you, making you feel like you’re currently being studied under a microscope. 

“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” you ask casually, folding your hands on the table. 

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner, this is Dr. Reid,” the older man begins, pretending not to know you. Well, if that’s how he wants to play, you’re happy to join the game. “Your company showed up as a link between the victims in a series of murders.” He puts a folder in front of you, waiting until you open it to take a look at the paper inside. “Is there anything they have in common besides being your ex-employees?”

You go through the list of names, and it’s instantly obvious what that thing is. “They were all fired,” you reply as you close the folder and push it back towards them.

Sadly, Hotch knows there’s more to the story, and he’s not afraid to pry for more information. “And? I know there’s something you’re not telling us. Why were they fired?”

“Corporate espionage.” While you don’t want to go into the details and think about these cases again, they both seem interested in hearing what it’s all about, so you let out a sigh and continue. “They were all caught selling confidential information to our competitors or anyone who was willing to pay enough. Classic case, nothing unusual.”

Reid bites his lips as he quickly thinks about something. “What’s the process if you have a case like this? What do you do?” he wonders.

“I usually let my Chief Security Officer take care of it. His name is Jonathan Hayes, he’s been with us since the beginning, so he knows everything about the company. He sits down with the employee in question with HR present, hands over the paperwork, and beside that, he consults the legal department to take care of the rest,” you explain.

“We didn’t find court documents,” Hotch points out. 

With a small smirk, you shrug. “I don’t need scandals. We keep things quiet.” 

The two men look at each other, then, as if there was a silent agreement between them, they excuse themselves and ask for a moment while they discuss something outside. With a shrug, you roll the swivel chair to the side to check something on the laptop, but moments after you begin to tweak the set of codes on the screen, your fingers freeze above the keyboard and your gaze shifts to the glass wall to take a look at them. Whatever they’re talking about, it surely involves you, because every now and then they turn your way. Perfect. They hopefully don’t think you used Hayes as your personal assassin or something.

A few minutes later they finally return, and it’s Reid who speaks up. “Can we talk to Hayes? We have some questions, hopefully he can help us out.”

“He’s on unpaid leave due to some family issue,” you tell them. 

“Since when?” he asks with a frown.

You blow out the air you didn’t even notice you’ve been holding, and lean back in your chair as you think. “He left about a month ago. Why?”

Before Reid can speak up, Hotch takes a deep breath and steps closer to the desk. “Has he tried to contact you since then?” he asks, his voice laced with worry that you’re not sure his colleague can detect. But you notice, you’re painfully aware of it.

“He called a few times, but usually when I was busy doing something else.”

“So you didn’t talk to him?”

“Not really.”

“When was the last time he called you?” 

That one you don’t have to think about. “Three days ago. He called me more and more frequently in the week before that, and since he didn’t stop even after I sent him a text to find my assistant, I decided to block his number until he returns,” you explain. 

Reid turns to his boss when he hears this. “The timeline checks out, and his number being blocked might be what triggered the changes in his method and the messages,” he says quickly. 

There’s a nod of agreement before Hotch turns back to you. “You need to come with us now.” 

“What did I do?”

“Nothing wrong, don’t worry. But Hayes will soon be looking for you, and we’d rather have you somewhere safe until we find him,” he tells you, earning a doubtful look from you. 

Because you have a feeling Hayes stepped up to be their prime suspect, although it simply doesn’t make sense to you. If you don’t count this little phone call issue, your relationship is quite good, and he’s always so nice, so friendly. “He would never hurt anyone,” you tell them, deciding that ignoring them might be the best approach. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to ask you to leave now. I have a lot to do.”

“Listen to me,” you hear Hotch’s hushed voice once he leans over the table, “you’re not safe until we catch him, so put the attitude aside and come with us.”

With a huff, you look back at the screen and begin to type like they weren’t even there. But despite your best effort, his brown eyes are burning a hole into your skull, and you can feel the annoyance that fills him. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say without looking at him.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Stop being a brat,” he tells you angrily. 

“Did you just call me a brat?”

“Hotch?” Reid asks in the background, but he raises a hand to stop him. That doesn’t work, though, because the younger agent realized that he needs to intervene before things get out of hand. “We found messages at the crime scenes, and now that we know the real reason why those employees had been let go, it’s clear Hayes did this to protect you,” he explains.

This gets your attention and you finally look up from the screen to meet his eyes. “To protect me? How does killing them protect me?”

“He’s loyal to you, and he would go to great lengths to make sure you and your company are safe. To him, you’re like a family member he needs to protect,” he says.

Gulping, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “But he’s such a normal guy. Tough, sure, but murdering people?” you note with a desperate laugh. It’s insane, why can’t this madness happen to someone else?

“They often seem harmless,” he offers with a sympathetic smile. “Look, we need a list of the employees who were fired for corporate espionage or other major issues Hayes dealt with in the past.”

“Sure, I’ll ask my assistant to send you the list,” you assure them without hesitation.

But Hotch doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer, because he moves around the desk to close your laptop, then helps you up from the chair. “You can make that call from the car. Let’s go,” he says as he lets his hand move to your elbow to lead you toward the door. 

“Wait, I can’t go, I have a deadline, and an interview, and—”

“Now,” he says sternly, leaving no room for an argument. 

For a moment there’s a staring contest between you two, but then out of the corner of your eye you notice Reid’s surprised expression. Maybe this isn’t the time for such an argument, so you put up your hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, just let me get my bag and laptop from my office,” you say as you yank your arm away and take the lead toward the elevator.

On the way out of the building, Reid starts a conversation with you about your work, but it’s hard to focus with Hotch’s hand on the small of your back as he leads you. He doesn’t look at you, and deep down you’re grateful for that. When you get into the car, you sit in the middle of the back seat so it’s easier to keep the chat with the younger agent going, because you’re happy to talk about your little projects with someone who truly appreciates the science behind your innovations. 

He’s intelligent, that one’s clear, and the more you learn about him, the more you feel like in another life you could be friends, and you would probably ask him to work for you too. While the conversation flows freely, you don’t miss the way Hotch looks at you through the rearview mirror every once in a while, so when there’s a little break in the discussion, you take the chance to change the topic a little. 

“Is he always this grumpy?” you ask Reid with a playful smile.

Before he can respond, Hotch rolls his eyes. “I’m not grumpy,” he states. 

“Then serious.”

He exhales slowly, making it clear he has to force himself to stay calm. “I’m chasing serial killers, more people would die if I took my job too lightly,” he explains. 

“So would a smile kill you?” you wonder, deliberately pushing his buttons.

“I think you should—” Reid begins his warning, but the other man is quick to interrupt him.

“No.”

You grab the back of his seat and lean forward to be closer. “Then why don’t you smile?” Hotch groans as he shakes his head, and you take the hint. So, once again, you change the topic as you lean back against the seat. “You know what? I’ll make a few calls and hire a security company to keep an eye on me in my own house, so I don’t need your protection. Also, you said Hayes—if he really is the killer, that is—was looking for employees we let go for certain reasons. As far as I know, I’m still the head of this company.”

Reid turns in his seat as he begins to talk. “Yes, but Hayes is getting impatient, angry, and based on the timeline you told us, it’s related to you ignoring his calls. He will get mad at you and try to punish you for that.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Why?” Hotch asks. 

“Does it really matter?”

“I’m going to ask this one last time—why?”

Your silence gives Reid an idea. “Were you in a romantic relationship with him?”

“God, no, no, it’s just,” you begin, stopping for a moment to think. “He has a family, he’s always so nice to everyone, why would he do that? It can’t be to protect me.”

“His way of thinking isn’t exactly rational anymore,” the younger man begins, flashing an understanding smile at you. “As for the security company, it would be best if you stayed close to us.”

With a sigh, you decide to drop it for now. In fact, you want to let go of the conversation altogether. So, instead of putting up another fight, you unlock your phone and dive into your emails, ignoring the men’s existence for the rest of the ride.

••••••••••

Once on their floor, Reid leads you to an empty office, saying you can use that for the time being. It’s way darker than the office or the lab that you’re used to, but you don’t have the luxury to be picky, there is a lot to do before you can call it a day. The interview was transformed into an online one, the journalist promised to call you a little later, the board meeting that was scheduled for the afternoon was postponed to the day after tomorrow, and you gave yourself a new deadline as the prototype wasn’t here with you.

Yet, despite the long to-do list, you don’t interrupt Reid when he continues your previous conversation about your work, and soon you’re joined by Garcia, who charms you in a matter of seconds. Prentiss and Morgan arrive as well, shortly introducing themselves before leaving to get back to work.

But then the little gathering is coming to a halt, because Hotch shows up just to tell you that you can’t stay here. Instead, he wants you to use his office, saying he’d rather have you somewhere he can keep an eye on you. Garcia and Reid both watch you with visible confusion, which tells you it must be quite unusual, even for them. But you don’t feel like arguing, so you follow the unit chief down the hallway.

As you’re sitting on the couch, you can’t help but glance over at him every now and then, watching as he tries to catch up with the paperwork while they wait. For what, though, is a mystery, no one tells you anything regarding the case. Being left in the dark is definitely not what you’re used to.

Two hours later he returns to the office, but instead of coming in, he simply leans against the doorframe, brown eyes watching you with surprising softness. “How about getting some coffee?” he asks.

Now that’s something you can’t say no to. “You have coffee?”

A short, dry laugh follows your question. “We do, it’s terrible, which is why I was thinking about going to a coffee shop nearby. Want to come with me?”

“I thought I had to stay here to be safe,” you point out. 

“It’s close and I have a gun,” he says with a barely visible smile. “So?”

“That would be great.”

He signals you to follow him, and, as if you were a trained puppy, you do exactly as he wants. While you pass the bullpen, you can’t help but notice the eyes of the members of his team, and you even hear the whispers behind your back. Do they suspect something? Did they notice that maybe you have met before this morning? Or what if Hotch told them himself? But no, if he did, he wouldn’t have acted like he didn’t know you. 

In the car, there’s a comfortable silence settling between you, and it’s hard not to think about the night you met him. The party was boring, the usual shallow event where people could network and show off, but when a woman you knew came over to you to say a mutual acquaintance was on the roof, planning to jump down after receiving a phone call, things took an interesting turn. 

Hotch was in the group you were both a part of in a conversation, and when he heard what happened, he offered to join you. It took a good half hour, but eventually he managed to convince the man to change his mind, and that’s when he told you about who he was. The rest of the night passed with a pleasant chat, learning a lot more about each other, and at the end he asked for your number, promising to call you soon.

Well, he never did.

But today, you’re willing to put that aside if he wants to act like you didn’t know each other. Instead of stirring drama, you inhale deeply and look out the window. “You know, it’s nice,” you note, breaking the silence.

“What’s nice?”

“Not being treated like I was some weirdo.”

For a moment, he turns his head to look at you. “That’s how people see you?” You let out a hum of confirmation. “Well, having Reid on the team helped us gain some experience in dealing with geniuses, I guess.”

“Look at that! A smile! You should smile more often,” you note teasingly, even biting on your lip before commenting on how much more handsome it makes him. 

He shakes his head without glancing over at you. “You’re not letting that smile thing go, are you?” he asks.

“Hmm… No, I don’t think so.” Silence falls between you, because there’s something you want to ask, something you’re not sure you should bring up. But then you take a deep breath and speak up again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“You’re nice to me,” you say, then turn to look at him. “Why?”

Hotch takes a deep breath before looking at you, and you can see a slightly confused expression on his face. “As far as I know, it’s not a crime to be nice.”

“That’s true, still.” His eyes turn back to the road ahead, and you can tell that this was all, he doesn’t want to talk more about this. “So, I guess he wasn’t at home,” you then say, changing the topic. You know Morgan and Prentiss went to Hayes’ home, but neither of them told you about the result.

“No, he wasn’t. But we will find him,” he assures you.

“Are you sure I’m in danger?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

He remains silent for a little too long, probably wondering how much he can tell you. “His wife left him about eight months ago and took their daughter with her. That could be a stressor. He focused on his job, where he once again found traitors, then he lost control.”

“That doesn’t explain why he would turn on me.”

“You’ve been ignoring him. You blocked his number. He’s getting angry, he kills more frequently. We found another body today, but this time it wasn’t a past or current employee. He will reach the point when he starts to blame you for his own actions.”

You look out the window on the side, watching the people on the street. “I don’t believe it,” you note, although this sentence is meant more to you than him.

“I thought you were smarter than this.” Your attention snaps back to him when he reaches out to touch your hand. “Take it seriously. Please.”

“Okay.” You look down at his hand, having a hard time deciding how the way his thumb massages your skin makes you feel. It certainly makes you think, and you don’t shy away from bringing it up. “We should probably talk about the elephant in the room,” you tell him.

But Hotch suddenly pulls his hand away and parks the car in front of a coffee shop. Even though he gets out, you stay behind, staring ahead as you think about this. Maybe you should tell them you’ll take care of your own protection, you won’t need their help any longer. It would be easier for everyone.

Eventually, you catch up, but after you both place your orders, there’s an argument about who’s gonna pay, although he shuts you down with a single look. So, you give up the fight and decide to remain silent until you arrange your trip to your holiday house in Aspen.

Then you take a seat in a booth, and he starts talking unexpectedly. “I thought we were having a fresh start, like we didn’t know each other at all,” he says, continuing the conversation that ended so abruptly in the car.

“You started that this morning when you introduced yourself like I was a complete stranger, I just played along,” you respond, although you’re having a hard time figuring him out. 

He lets out a sigh, his fingers drumming on the side of the cup as he watches you. “I didn’t know where we stood after that night.”

“You disappeared, Hotch. You asked for my number and never called. I thought I misunderstood what happened, so I decided to move on, but don’t think it didn’t hurt.”

“I wanted to call you, but then I had one case after another and realized I don’t have the time to maintain a relationship you would deserve.”

You can’t help but snort. “You could have told me that instead of ignoring me completely.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you can tell he’s being honest now.

It doesn’t make sense to you. He’s been sending you mixed signals since you met again in the morning, and deep down you want to clarify the situation before leaving. “Tell me this,” you begin as you lean closer over the table. “If you wanted to act like we didn’t know each other, why did you become so overprotective? Because that’s what you’ve been all day long; forcing me to come with you, keeping me in your office, and taking me out to get coffee.”

Hotch stops to think. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. I know it’s probably hard to believe, but that’s the truth. I like you, and every time I read an article about you, or watch one of your interviews, I think about what things could be like.”

“I wish you hadn’t disappeared on me back then.”

“We can fix that now,” he says softly as he reaches out to take your hand.

But you don’t like the idea of him touching you, so you pull your hand away as you look elsewhere. “I’m not sure if I want it now. Maybe it’s already too late.” You can hear him let out a long sigh, which makes you turn back to him. “Look, when we get back, I’ll call a friend of mine to send someone who will escort me to my holiday house in Colorado. I’ll take my jet, it will be safe.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Hotch,” you point out. 

“I know, but you can’t leave. We don’t know when we’ll need you to help us with something. So, no, you’re not leaving. In fact, you’ll stay in my apartment, because I can’t leave you in the office.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

He raises his eyebrows as he looks at you, as if you’ve just made a stupid joke. “No.”

••••••••••

You decided to be a good girl and didn’t put up a fight when he told you it was time to leave the office at the end of the day. You didn’t argue when he ordered food for dinner. You weren’t hostile when he started a conversation. You played his game, just like he expected you to, as if you understood why he was so keen on keeping you close. 

You even offered him a chance to lure Hayes to the party your company was holding for the employees the next day. When he agreed to do it on the condition of him and his team attending too, you said good night, and went to sleep. But that didn’t last long, the moment you heard his bedroom door close, you sneaked out and returned to your office. 

But the next day he found you. You were sitting behind your desk, signing a couple of documents your assistant left behind for you, when you heard footsteps getting closer.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he yelled, walking around your desk to stand right in front of you.

Morgan raised his hands to calm him down. “Hotch,” he warned his boss, but it felt like he didn’t say a word.

Because he completely ignored the other man, instead he focused on you, his eyes burning a hole into you. “You disappear in the middle of the night without a word? No one knew where you went, he could have found you!”

“Hotch, calm down, she’s safe.”

“Morgan, stay out of this, please.”

“Am I arrested?” you ask, keeping your voice calm and quiet.

He looks back at you. “No, but—”

“Then I can go wherever I want,” you tell him. “I don’t need your permission. Hell, you don’t even have proof that he’s after me.”

“But he could be, which is more than enough.”

“Unless you want to arrest me, please, leave the building. If you don’t, I’ll ask security to escort you out,” you inform him, already reaching for your phone to make the call if needed.

Hotch’s eyes soften, and you can see his desperation. “Don’t do this,” he asks you.

Silence follows his words, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning this one. So, rolling your eyes, you close your laptop and stand up, already moving past him to reach the hallway. If they want to stay, then fine, let them stay, but you’ll sure as hell not stick around. He doesn’t try to stop you, neither does Morgan, although you can feel both men watching as you disappear on the hallway. 

You barely reach the first corner, though, when you find yourself face to face with Hayes, the very man they’ve been trying to protect you from. Fuck. But maybe you’re lucky, maybe he’s only here to pick something up from his office, maybe it’s a meeting, maybe it’s anything other than the need to hurt you. Flashing a friendly smile at him, you say, “John, I thought you were on leave.”

“There’s something I have to take care of,” he says, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. 

“Okay. I’ll spend most of the day in my lab, so if you need anything, you kn—” You don’t finish the sentence, because he suddenly pulls out a gun and points it at you. “John, put that away,” you try weakly.

Hayes closes the distance between you to grab your arm and yank you towards the stairs. “Come with me.”

“There are innocent people here, don’t do something you would regret later.”

“This has to be done,” he says, and you can hear the determination in his voice, mixed with a hint of insanity. 

Before you could get far, though, you’re both stopped by a familiar voice when Hotch's angry voice cuts through the air. “Hayes, let her go,” he instructs. 

The man steps behind you and pushes the barrel of the gun at your head. “No! Take one step closer and I’ll shoot her.”

“You only wanted to protect her and the company, didn’t you? Killing her would ruin your plan,” Morgan tries to reason, although you’re not quite sure he’s in the right state of mind to process that properly.

“She doesn’t appreciate what I do for her.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“No! She didn’t say thank you after I punished those people, she didn’t even answer my calls and messages.”

You gulp, feeling like this whole mess is your fault, that maybe if you talked to him, you would’ve found out what he did sooner. “John, please,” you beg him. 

“Shut up!”

Before anyone else could speak up, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye when the assistant of one of the deputy CEO’s steps out of the main meeting room, and she cries loudly when she notices the weapons. “What’s—Oh my god!” she says, her voice laced with panic. 

This averts Hayes’s attention, and he lets go of you just enough to give Morgan the chance to shoot him. You look down at the body on the floor, blood pooling around him as the agent comes closer to check his pulse. “He’s dead,” he announces, turning to his boss before looking back at you. 

You’re crying, you can’t stop yourself, and you’re only pulled out of your spiraling thoughts by Hotch’s worried voice as he moves closer and extends his arms. “Come here.” You don’t even think about it, you only follow your instincts and let him pull you into a tight hug. “He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re safe,” he whispers to you, then turns to his colleague. “Morgan, take care of this, I’ll take her back to her office.”

“Okay, you got it,” comes the answer. 

“I’m fine, you don’t need to come with me,” you note as you step away from him and wipe the tears away. “Would you like me to evacuate the building?”

“No, only close this floor.”

“Sure.”

Hotch grabs your shoulders and turns you back to face him. “Look at me.” When you do, he goes on, his voice soft and worried. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you mumble.

“You’re pushing me away, but you shouldn’t be alone now.”

You shrug. “Then Morgan could stay by my side until you are ready to let me go.”

“Hey, I think it would be better if you stayed with Hotch,” the agent says. 

“What did I do to you? Did I hurt you?” you ask him, sounding as serious as you manage in this situation. 

Morgan groans as he rolls his eyes at you. “Come on.”

“You’re childish, and stubborn, and getting on my nerves now,” Hotch states impatiently. “Let’s go, I need to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?”

“About Hayes holding you at gunpoint.”

“But you saw what happened.”

“Not the whole thing.”

Since there is nothing you can do considering you’re expected to work together with them, you follow him to your office, where you lean against the desk with your arms defensively folded over your chest. “You’re overreacting,” you inform him. 

Hotch scoffs, giving you a disapproving look. “You left my house and he almost murdered you. Since when does being worried about you count as overreacting?”

“And why are you worried? Who am I to you exactly?” you ask in an attempt to challenge him. 

He watches you for a short while, and you have absolutely no idea what’s going on inside his head. But then, out of nowhere, he places a hand on your neck and pulls you into a kiss. A soft one that’s full of emotions, something he’s been planning to do for a while now. “It’s up to you,” he says quietly, staying close to you. 

“That’s emotional blackmail,” you respond, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you were telling this to yourself. 

He lets out a short laugh, the big smile remaining in place. “Not quite.”

“Hotch, please, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” he says as he shakes his head. “Have dinner with me. Tonight, before I’m dragged away for work.”

“I can’t.”

You don’t miss the disappointed look on his face as he steps back. “Of course you can’t,” he notes bitterly.

Tilting your head to the side, you reach out for his hand. “Hey, the gala, remember? That’s tonight.” Finally, he remembers. “How about a deal? You join me as my plus one, and we can talk.”

“You’ll ignore me.”

“I won’t.”

“And if you do?”

A playful smile appears on your lips. “You don’t trust me?”

“I just want to make sure you keep your word,” he points out while he laces your fingers. 

“Ouch. I’ll behave.”

He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead, then flashes a smile at you. “That’s all I ask of you.”

Before he could kiss you again, Morgan knocks on the door and watches the pair of you with a teasing grin on his face, but seeing the look his boss sends his way, he decides to leave this for now. Instead, he gives him an update. Despite the conversation happening in your presence, you can’t focus on their words. You’re busy studying Hotch’s face, getting lost in those eyes that caught your attention months ago. Maybe this time he’ll stick around and stop ignoring you.

Maybe this time it can work out. 

[ukininayu]

0UT LIKE A LIGHT. —SATORU GOJO.

SYNOPSIS. Realization truly hit you hard. Only a shame it didn't hit him to realize the damage he's done.

CW. Modern!au. CEO!Gojo.

WC. 1688

A/N. I need sleep. Why is there sigma in my maths. No actually, STATISTICS. wgat the fuck is taht n why am I looking for SIGMA. 😞 I might actually fail this quarter cause I've failed almost every quiz, though my performances are PEAK. But ugh im not gonna be an honor student oh god. Ion wanna get smacked n get my door n phone taken away ugh 😣 update. there is no phone to get cause..heh..i broke it

What good is a luxurious estate for two if he never comes home?

All you can do to feel closure is to lay on the king sized bed and reminisce what it feels like to lay and be with him again.

But reminiscing isn't the right word. You can't deny that the majority of times like these all you really try to do is to try and remember what it feels.

It's not like Gojo left you. You don't think he has plans on leaving you; after all, he does drain and drown himself with work for his family. For you.

But then again.

What good is spoiling you if he isn't even there to accompany you in buying things and having fun? You feel guilty for being so ungrateful.

Poor Gojo is only doing what he has to. He has heavier weights on his shoulders than you ever will! You should be happy you can go wherever you want whenever you want instead of having to balance a big corporation by a big clan and a relationship, unlike him.

But he himself isn't balancing it all too well.

.

..

...

You just miss your husband. You're not trying to be a brat. It's not your fault you think he needs to spend a little more time with you.

...

Whining about your problems in your own mind won't help. It'll probably make it worse.

You realize every problem would all just water down to the same question,

"What good?"

What good is spending countless date nights together surrounded by art materials, you and him work and make memories while making a love journal,

"Satoru, that's too much supplies!" You scold your partner. The sight of him carrying two bags full of art materials making you concerned about how much money he spent on such silly things. He laughs at your reaction, taking your hand and walking in your dorm and to your room, setting the bags down on the fluffy carpet beside your bed.

"Nothing to worry about, sweets. Money is the least of poor worries." Gojo assures you, sitting down and pulling you next to him. "C'mon now, let's start making the journal already! I've been waiting for this moment for ages! "

Only for him to never engage in any dates you, or even himself had planned?

"Evenin' Toru... Are you free for tonight? You know we have a date. Ev'n marked it on our calendar, you know." Another sent right to the voicemail. It's the 5th one by now. It's well past the time of your reservation yet you still hope. One last time. One more try before you give up and change out of your clothes and pull out wine.

"If you can't come it's.. Alright. I—.. We can still plan another one anytime, like you said the last time. And the last. Before that, too—.. Ah, forget it. I'm sorry for sounding mad. Uh, please just. Uhm. Don't drown yourself with work, Satoru. It's bad for you." For us. "Goodnight, 'Toru. Wake me up if you come back or uh.. Text me if you can't. Bye. I love you."

What good were the long early morning walks with your hands holding, fingers intertwined as you and him walk over to a café to grab coffee (Gojo gets hot chocolate instead, disliking the bitter taste of coffee.) And take a seat at the park yapping each other's ears off as you both make a bucket list, sharing a pen and writing down your dreams in the love journal both of you created,

After Gojo finishes writing down what he wants to do with you and adding it on the bucket list, you take the pen he was offering and write down yours. Your eyes scan the almost-filled bucket list and end up in the latest one Gojo wrote. "♡Start a family!♡" in bold letters with hearts and rainbows all around the words.

"Really planning ahead huh, 'Toru?" You huff out a laugh and look at him, the faint blush he has makes you want to attack his cheeks with kisses. "With all those hearts too!"

"You can't tell me you haven't thought of it." He fights back. But he's right..you really can't tell him that. "With you, I wouldn't mind starting a family." "Awh. Come on, sweets.. Give me a clear answer!" "Okay, okay! Yes. I do want to start a family with you, better?"

"Imagine what our child would look like, I wonder whose hair color they would get.. Can't I just br—" with already a blushing face, you get more red. "Satoru! We're in college and in public. You can't just blurt that out!"

If he doesn't even make time from the both of you to cross out at least one word in the list?

Though it's pathetic, you still hold the feeling of nostalgia. Your prime. Yours and his prime, when you were the couple of the campus. You hold those memories dearly.

You wouldn't mind rummaging through the old boxes on the very corners of the attic to find something to hold on to. No matter how much dust, insects, and heat tries to go to you, you will do it for the journal.

So you do.

After an hour or two did you finally find it. Old and dusty, but still in pretty good shape for a book that stayed in such a place for such a time.

You get jumped by the first page of the journal.

"Bucket list! <3"

the list went on. It filled the whole page. Front to back, even. From "Bahamas!" To "try every damn fast food restaurant fry."

Each word came with a good remembrance of the times you or him wrote the words down, each little memory having it's own adorable conversation between you two.

But each word forced you to remember each rejected and ignored plan you had and shared with your dear Satoru.

"They called me for a meeting. I'm busy."

"Please, sweets. You know how hard it is for me to get a day off."

"I'm tired."

Excuses on and on and on. He knows those excuses don't make you any less sad, yet he still does it. Does he do it to spite you and your pathetic attempts? Does he know how cruel he is? Trying to slip and dodge every piece of affection thrown at him. As if being neglected by your own lover isn't bad enough!

What good are passing those old crumpled papers the both of you passed to each other way back in highschool, old papers filled with little names for your future children, even a whole reason about the name,

Expecting Satoru to pass you the paper back with a reply, he instead puts it under his notebook and pulls out another piece of paper, scribbling something out with big letters before covering your view with another book of his. Huh, weeirrrddd.

A few minutes later, he grabs your attention by nudging his boot against your sandal under the table, sliding the paper to you when you give him a glance.

"NAMEZZ! 𖤐𖨆"

• nouitzki. Nowitzki?? Idk

➥ sounds rich asf. Matching name = status righhhtt?? keh heh. :p

You look at him again, and he looks at you. He looks genuine. The way Gojo looks while he waits for you to write something down, his body nearly facing yours as he rests his face on his palm. Mouthing out a "c'mon.." with a smile on his face.

if sleeping with him in the same room without his call ringtone disturbing him and you every three seconds is such a rare event?

Why does he keep prioritizing such useless calls from whoever the fuck politician, celebrity, or another nepo baby is calling?

"Satoru... r' they calling again? It looks so dark outside n' late.. Can't they take a break.." You groan as your eyes still try to get used to the light from the sudden open lamp, you feel your lover hug you tightly and kiss your forehead before he sighs. "Yes, sweets, they are.. M' sorry."

Gojo sounds like he dreads responding to the caller. He is. He keeps his arms tight around you and his lips on your skin, letting the ringtone go off for a few seconds before carefully sitting up and reaching for his vibrating phone.

You don't bother listening in the conversation after that and continue sleeping, only waking up when you feel his lips against your forehead again, whispering apologies before walking out the room.

You want to remind him about the words that came out of his lying little mouth just a few hours ago, about how he'll stay till sunrise, but you know he's also tired and telling him that will just make him feel like shit. So you don't. You still love him, after all.

..

... Yeah.

back then, people noticing his absence whenever you went to events or parties alone felt good, the thought of your acquaintances expecting you with him or vice versa gives you the feeling of bliss.

but now.. oh wow.

everywhere you go, questions bringing up your husband's absence would endlessly haunt you. sure hurts like a bitch.

how cruel it is to actually know by experience that bullshit as simple as a family corporation can break love you thought only death could break apart.

you cant do this anymore.

Gojo doesn't completely try to ignore you, but you realize the more you and him aren't together, the more the relationship feels like downgrading to a simple friendship.

its not just his ignorance, no.

As time passes by he becomes a complete stranger.

the mutual interests you both loved would fade, and he would pour his stress on you. though not screaming matches, fortunately, it was words that were equipped with armour and swords, aiming straight to the heart.

you make a plan instead.

if he loves leaving you behind without notice, you would to.

fuck a letter.

maybe someday he would get back to his senses, maybe one day you and him would meet again.

A/N. Chat I accidentally posted this twice instead of saving it as draft. Am I cooked 😞also im so sorry if there are any repeated like situations n stuff i do not beta read n i dont have time to see errors oh and the ending was rushed. i do not know how to end a story im sorry also ts ws started on oct 2. ive put all tears and sweat and blood to keep continuing

[sukuna-ryo]

The Best Friend

(Preview)

Geto × Reader × Gojo pairing

Trigger warnings: NSFW content, including sexually explicit scenes (maybe). Poly Relationship (eventually). Emotional manipulation and power dynamics. Private relationship between counsellor and counselee is unethical so please don't date your therapist. MINORS DNI

You’ve been working at the corporate counseling department for a few months now, and one thing’s been constant: Gojo Satoru. The man, somehow, is always in your office. He’s the CEO of the company, but it seems like he’s always got some reason to book a session. At first, it felt like a weird formality, but now, you’ve gotten used to it. And honestly, you’re starting to understand why he needs so many counseling sessions. Gojo’s got this playful, carefree vibe that makes it hard to take him seriously. He’s the type of guy who seems like he’d rather make jokes than have a real conversation, but when he does talk about something deeper, you can see there’s more to him than just the annoying, charming guy who skips into your office like he owns the place.

One thing that keeps popping up, though, is his best friend. Gojo won’t stop talking about him, but he’s super vague. “Ah, my best friend? He’s too popular with girls. You really don’t want to know about him,” Gojo says, flashing that trademark grin. It’s almost like he’s trying to protect you from the guy, or maybe just doesn’t want you to meet him for reasons you can’t quite figure out—even though you’re only asking for counseling reasons.

As if that wasn’t enough, your best friend, Kugisaki Nobara, decided you were “ready” to get back out there, and set you up on a blind date. Of course, you tried to protest—you're not exactly looking for anything serious, especially not right now—but Nobara wouldn’t have it. She pushed you out of your comfort zone, and before you could say “philosophy,” you were sitting across from Geto Suguru, a calm, collected philosophy professor with a steady gaze and a soft smile.

Geto was, well... the opposite of Gojo. He’s polite, well-mannered, and you could tell he’s a genuinely kind person. His quiet intelligence made for interesting conversation, and unlike Gojo, Geto’s not the type to fill every second with jokes and antics. He seems to enjoy deep, thoughtful talks, which you find yourself looking forward to more with each date. Yet, there's one thing Geto mentions way too often. His best friend.

“Oh, him? Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Geto sighs, rubbing his temples. “He’s just... too annoying. I can’t even deal with him half the time. You don’t need that stress.”

You’re getting the sense that both of these guys have a mysterious best friend that’s somehow never worthy of a proper introduction. It’s all starting to feel a little too convenient. But hey, you’re just the counsellor for one, and there for good conversation and some nice dates with the other, right?

And while you’ve been getting to know them both separately, you can’t ignore the fact that you’re kind of enjoying their company. Gojo’s the kind of guy who can’t help but be annoying but somehow keeps you laughing even when he’s totally out of line. You can’t deny his charm, even if he drives you nuts sometimes. And Geto? Well, he’s just... easy to be around. Calm, collected, and honestly, you could spend hours talking to him about anything.

Sometimes, though, the way Geto talks about the world makes you pause—just for a second. It’s nothing obvious, just a word here or there, a tone that lingers too long. You brush it off, but it leaves you with an odd feeling you can’t quite shake.

You’re not exactly ready to call it anything serious, but as the weeks go by, you start realizing that you’re developing a little soft spot for both of them. They’re nothing alike, but that’s exactly what makes them so interesting.

What you don’t know, though, is that while you’re out here juggling dates and sessions with Gojo and Geto, something seems to be shifting in each of them. They both find themselves thinking about you more than they’d planned, though neither of them would admit it.

---

Do not copy, plagiarise, translate or repost any of my content.

Likes, reblogs and feedback is appreciated <3

[ghostsandguns]

John Price x Office Setting

Imagine working at a major corporation as the personal secretary to the one and only John Price, CEO of 141 Enterprises. Every morning you bring him his coffee - not because he ever asks, but because you enjoy doing something that makes his day just a little bit easier (and you love how he says "thanks darling" every time).

Whenever he holds meetings with the other high-ranking members of the company, you're expected to be there to take notes. Unlike the other secretaries, who stay in their designated areas, he insists you sit close to him. When you hand him a copy of the notes, he murmurs "good girl" while browsing through them.

The best thing about his office are the glass walls. You can't help but appreciate the view of your boss, in his expensive suit, casually manspreading behind his desk, a cigar resting between his fingers. This view, however, works both ways as you don't notice how Price’s gaze lingers just a little too long on your ass when you bend down to pick up a pen. Maybe that fitted pencil skirt wasn’t such a bad purchase after all.

On your birthday, you find a bouquet of your favourite flowers on your desk with a card that says 'Happy Birthday'. You catch the familiar scent of his perfume coming from the card. As you finish your shift that evening, you find him waiting by the entrance of the building. "How about we get the birthday girl some dinner?" he says with a knowing smile on his face.

(Might do a continuation on this with the other 141 members)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The antitrust case against Apple

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT (Mar 22) in TORONTO, then SUNDAY (Mar 24) with LAURA POITRAS in NYC, then Anaheim, and beyond!

The foundational tenet of "the Cult of Mac" is that buying products from a $3t company makes you a member of an oppressed ethnic minority and therefore every criticism of that corporation is an ethnic slur:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/12/youre-holding-it-wrong/#if-dishwashers-were-iphones

Call it "Apple exceptionalism" – the idea that Apple, alone among the Big Tech firms, is virtuous, and therefore its conduct should be interpreted through that lens of virtue. The wellspring of this virtue is conveniently nebulous, which allows for endless goal-post shifting by members of the Cult of Mac when Apple's sins are made manifest.

Take the claim that Apple is "privacy respecting," which is attributed to Apple's business model of financing its services though cash transactions, rather than by selling it customers to advertisers. This is the (widely misunderstood) crux of the "surveillance capitalism" hypothesis: that capitalism is just fine, but once surveillance is in the mix, capitalism fails.

Apple, then, is said to be a virtuous company because its behavior is disciplined by market forces, unlike its spying rivals, whose ability to "hack our dopamine loops" immobilizes the market's invisible hand with "behavior-shaping" shackles:

http://pluralistic.net/HowToDestroySurveillanceCapitalism

Apple makes a big deal out of its privacy-respecting ethos, and not without some justification. After all, Apple went to the mattresses to fight the FBI when they tried to force Apple to introduced defects into its encryption systems:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/04/fbi-could-have-gotten-san-bernardino-shooters-iphone-leadership-didnt-say

And Apple gave Ios users the power to opt out of Facebook spying with a single click; 96% of its customers took them up on this offer, costing Facebook $10b (one fifth of the pricetag of the metaverse boondoggle!) in a single year (you love to see it):

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2021/02/facebook-makes-the-case-for-activity-tracking-to-ios-14-users-in-new-pop-ups/

Bruce Schneier has a name for this practice: "feudal security." That's when you cede control over your device to a Big Tech warlord whose "walled garden" becomes a fortress that defends you against external threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/08/leona-helmsley-was-a-pioneer/#manorialism

The keyword here is external threats. When Apple itself threatens your privacy, the fortress becomes a prison. The fact that you can't install unapproved apps on your Ios device means that when Apple decides to harm you, you have nowhere to turn. The first Apple customers to discover this were in China. When the Chinese government ordered Apple to remove all working privacy tools from its App Store, the company obliged, rather than risk losing access to its ultra-cheap manufacturing base (Tim Cook's signal accomplishment, the one that vaulted him into the CEO's seat, was figuring out how to offshore Apple manufacturing to China) and hundreds of millions of middle-class consumers:

https://www.reuters.com/article/us-china-apple-vpn/apple-says-it-is-removing-vpn-services-from-china-app-store-idUSKBN1AE0BQ

Killing VPNs and other privacy tools was just for openers. After Apple caved to Beijing, the demands kept coming. Next, Apple willingly backdoored all its Chinese cloud services, so that the Chinese state could plunder its customers' data at will:

https://www.nytimes.com/2021/05/17/technology/apple-china-censorship-data.html

This was the completely foreseeable consequence of Apple's "curated computing" model: once the company arrogated to itself the power to decide which software you could run on your own computer, it was inevitable that powerful actors – like the Chinese Communist Party – would lean on Apple to exercise that power in service to its goals.

Unsurprisingly, the Chinese state's appetite for deputizing Apple to help with its spying and oppression was not sated by backdooring iCloud and kicking VPNs out of the App Store. As recently as 2022, Apple continued to neuter its tools at the behest of the Chinese state, breaking Airdrop to make it useless for organizing protests in China:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/11/foreseeable-consequences/#airdropped

But the threat of Apple turning on its customers isn't limited to China. While the company has been unwilling to spy on its users on behalf of the US government, it's proven more than willing to compromise its worldwide users' privacy to pad its own profits. Remember when Apple let its users opt out of Facebook surveillance with one click? At the very same time, Apple was spinning up its own commercial surveillance program, spying on Ios customers, gathering the very same data as Facebook, and for the very same purpose: to target ads. When it came to its own surveillance, Apple completely ignored its customers' explicit refusal to consent to spying, spied on them anyway, and lied about it:

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

Here's the thing: even if you believe that Apple has a "corporate personality" that makes it want to do the right thing, that desire to be virtuous is dependent on the constraints Apple faces. The fact that Apple has complete legal and technical control over the hardware it sells – the power to decide who can make software that runs on that hardware, the power to decide who can fix that hardware, the power to decide who can sell parts for that hardware – represents an irresistible temptation to enshittify Apple products.

"Constraints" are the crux of the enshittification hypothesis. The contagion that spread enshittification to every corner of our technological world isn't a newfound sadism or indifference among tech bosses. Those bosses are the same people they've always been – the difference is that today, they are unconstrained.

Having bought, merged or formed a cartel with all their rivals, they don't fear competition (Apple buys 90+ companies per year, and Google pays it an annual $26.3b bribe for default search on its operating systems and programs).

Having captured their regulators, they don't fear fines or other penalties for cheating their customers, workers or suppliers (Apple led the coalition that defeated dozens of Right to Repair bills, year after year, in the late 2010s).

Having wrapped themselves in IP law, they don't fear rivals who make alternative clients, mods, privacy tools or other "adversarial interoperability" tools that disenshittify their products (Apple uses the DMCA, trademark, and other exotic rules to block third-party software, repair, and clients).

True virtue rests not merely in resisting temptation to be wicked, but in recognizing your own weakness and avoiding temptation. As I wrote when Apple embarked on its "curated computing" path, the company would eventually – inevitably – use its power to veto its customers' choices to harm those customers:

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

Which is where we're at today. Apple – uniquely among electronics companies – shreds every device that is traded in by its customers, to block third parties from harvesting working components and using them for independent repair:

https://www.vice.com/en/article/yp73jw/apple-recycling-iphones-macbooks

Apple engraves microscopic Apple logos on those parts and uses these as the basis for trademark complaints to US customs, to block the re-importation of parts that escape its shredders:

https://repair.eu/news/apple-uses-trademark-law-to-strengthen-its-monopoly-on-repair/

Apple entered into an illegal price-fixing conspiracy with Amazon to prevent used and refurbished devices from being sold in the "world's biggest marketplace":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/10/you-had-one-job/#thats-just-the-as

Why is Apple so opposed to independent repair? Well, they say it's to keep users safe from unscrupulous or incompetent repair technicians (feudal security). But when Tim Cook speaks to his investors, he tells a different story, warning them that the company's profits are threatened by customers who choose to repair (rather than replace) their slippery, fragile glass $1,000 pocket computers (the fortress becomes a prison):

https://www.apple.com/newsroom/2019/01/letter-from-tim-cook-to-apple-investors/

All this adds up to a growing mountain of immortal e-waste, festooned with miniature Apple logos, that our descendants will be dealing with for the next 1,000 years. In the face of this unspeakable crime, Apple engaged in a string of dishonest maneuvers, claiming that it would support independent repair. In 2022, Apple announced a home repair program that turned out to be a laughably absurd con:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/22/apples-cement-overshoes/

Then in 2023, Apple announced a fresh "pro-repair" initiative that, once again, actually blocked repair:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/22/vin-locking/#thought-differently

Let's pause here a moment and remember that Apple once stood for independent repair, and celebrated the independent repair technicians that kept its customers' beloved Macs running:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/29/norwegian-potato-flour-enchiladas/#r2r

Whatever virtue lurks in Apple's corporate personhood, it is no match for the temptation that comes from running a locked-down platform designed to capture IP rights so that it can prevent normal competitive activities, like fixing phones, processing payments, or offering apps.

When Apple rolled out the App Store, Steve Jobs promised that it would save journalism and other forms of "content creation" by finally giving users a way to pay rightsholders. A decade later, that promise has been shattered by the app tax – a 30% rake on every in-app transaction that can't be avoided because Apple will kick your app out of the App Store if you even mention that your customers can pay you via the web in order to avoid giving a third of their content dollars to a hardware manufacturer that contributed nothing to the production of that material:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2023/06/save-news-we-must-open-app-stores

Among the apps that Apple also refuses to allow on Ios is third-party browsers. Every Iphone browser is just a reskinned version of Apple's Safari, running on the same antiquated, insecure Webkit browser engine. The fact that Webkit is incomplete and outdated is a feature, not a bug, because it lets Apple block web apps – apps delivered via browsers, rather than app stores:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/13/kitbashed/#app-store-tax

Last month, the EU took aim at Apple's veto over its users' and software vendors' ability to transact with one another. The newly in-effect Digital Markets Act requires Apple to open up both third-party payment processing and third-party app stores. Apple's response to this is the very definition of malicious compliance, a snake's nest of junk-fees, onerous terms of service, and petty punitive measures that all add up to a great, big "Go fuck yourself":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/06/spoil-the-bunch/#dma

But Apple's bullying, privacy invasion, price-gouging and environmental crimes are global, and the EU isn't the only government seeking to end them. They're in the firing line in Japan:

https://asia.nikkei.com/Business/Technology/Japan-to-crack-down-on-Apple-and-Google-app-store-monopolies

And in the UK:

https://www.gov.uk/government/news/cma-wins-appeal-in-apple-case

And now, famously, the US Department of Justice is coming for Apple, with a bold antitrust complaint that strikes at the heart of Apple exceptionalism, the idea that monopoly is safer for users than technological self-determination:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/media/1344546/dl?inline

There's passages in the complaint that read like I wrote them:

Apple wraps itself in a cloak of privacy, security, and consumer preferences to justify its anticompetitive conduct. Indeed, it spends billions on marketing and branding to promote the self-serving premise that only Apple can safeguard consumers’ privacy and security interests. Apple selectively compromises privacy and security interests when doing so is in Apple’s own financial interest—such as degrading the security of text messages, offering governments and certain companies the chance to access more private and secure versions of app stores, or accepting billions of dollars each year for choosing Google as its default search engine when more private options are available. In the end, Apple deploys privacy and security justifications as an elastic shield that can stretch or contract to serve Apple’s financial and business interests.

After all, Apple punishes its customers for communicating with Android users by forcing them to do so without any encryption. When Beeper Mini rolled out an Imessage-compatible Android app that fixed this, giving Iphone owners the privacy Apple says they deserve but denies to them, Apple destroyed Beeper Mini:

https://blog.beeper.com/p/beeper-moving-forward

Tim Cook is on record about this: if you want to securely communicate with an Android user, you must "buy them an Iphone":

https://www.theverge.com/2022/9/7/23342243/tim-cook-apple-rcs-imessage-android-iphone-compatibility

If your friend, family member or customer declines to change mobile operating systems, Tim Cook insists that you must communicate without any privacy or security.

Even where Apple tries for security, it sometimes fails ("security is a process, not a product" -B. Schneier). To be secure in a benevolent dictatorship, it must also be an infallible dictatorship. Apple's far from infallible: Eight generations of Iphones have unpatchable hardware defects:

https://checkm8.info/

And Apple's latest custom chips have secret-leaking, unpatchable vulnerabilities:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/03/hackers-can-extract-secret-encryption-keys-from-apples-mac-chips/

Apple's far from infallible – but they're also far from benevolent. Despite Apple's claims, its hardware, operating system and apps are riddled with deliberate privacy defects, introduce to protect Apple's shareholders at the expense of its customers:

https://proton.me/blog/iphone-privacy

Now, antitrust suits are notoriously hard to make, especially after 40 years of bad-precedent-setting, monopoly-friendly antitrust malpractice. Much of the time, these suits fail because they can't prove that tech bosses intentionally built their monopolies. However, tech is a written culture, one that leaves abundant, indelible records of corporate deliberations. What's more, tech bosses are notoriously prone to bragging about their nefarious intentions, committing them to writing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

Apple is no exception – there's an abundance of written records that establish that Apple deliberately, illegally set out to create and maintain a monopoly:

https://www.wired.com/story/4-internal-apple-emails-helped-doj-build-antitrust-case/

Apple claims that its monopoly is beneficent, used to protect its users, making its products more "elegant" and safe. But when Apple's interests conflict with its customers' safety and privacy – and pocketbooks – Apple always puts itself first, just like every other corporation. In other words: Apple is unexceptional.

The Cult of Mac denies this. They say that no one wants to use a third-party app store, no one wants third-party payments, no one wants third-party repair. This is obviously wrong and trivially disproved: if no Apple customer wanted these things, Apple wouldn't have to go to enormous lengths to prevent them. The only phones that an independent Iphone repair shop fixes are Iphones: which means Iphone owners want independent repair.

The rejoinder from the Cult of Mac is that those Iphone owners shouldn't own Iphones: if they wanted to exercise property rights over their phones, they shouldn't have bought a phone from Apple. This is the "No True Scotsman" fallacy for distraction-rectangles, and moreover, it's impossible to square with Tim Cook's insistence that if you want private communications, you must buy an Iphone.

Apple is unexceptional. It's just another Big Tech monopolist. Rounded corners don't preserve virtue any better than square ones. Any company that is freed from constraints – of competition, regulation and interoperability – will always enshittify. Apple – being unexceptional – is no exception.

Name your price for 18 of my DRM-free ebooks and support the Electronic Frontier Foundation with the Humble Cory Doctorow Bundle.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/22/reality-distortion-field/#three-trillion-here-three-trillion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

[sirtotallynotatimetraveler]

Welcome To Confection Castle! (AU)

What in the World is Confection Castle? :

Confection Castle (formerly known as Candy/Candied Castle) is a role-swap AU of Pizza Tower, akin to the more well-known PT swap AU, Sugary Spire. Unlike Sugary Spire, Confection Castle only swaps the roles of the characters and not their personalities, with a few alterations. With the unchanged personalities of each character, this instead changes the mechanics, environment, and even story of Pizza Tower, with each character handling their swapped roles more differently than Sugary Spire's interpretation.

(This AU's concept was largely inspired by TS!Underswap. A reimagining and fangame of the Undertale AU, Underswap, which uses the same concept)

The Story:

Teddy is faced with the consequences of his own actions after pulling one too many pranks against a castle that was bought out by a huge confection company, Candyboy Corporations. A company that steals the competition against smaller sweets business owners. Teddy's given a warning by the corporation CEO's assistant, Granny Candydimples, that the CEO will destroy his and many other confectionary's shops, forcing them to all work for his company. Thanks to the warning, Teddy and his confectionary allies team up to take down the Confection Castle and its evil schemes.

The Characters (may or not feature some slightly outdated art):

Teddy Taffy (Theodore Taffy) - Noise in the Role of Peppino: A smug, witty, mostly down to earth, prankster who formerly premiered on the big screen before leaving it all to continue his family's legacy: making mouthwatering candy and sweets. He owns a quaint candy shop in a vaguely European town near a looming Confection Castle. He's obsessed with sugar and when he consumes a good amount of it, can become hyperactive and manic.

Suzy (Suzette) - Noisette in the Role of Gustavo: A kind-hearted, rule-following, and dorky dessert baker who owns a bakery/patisserie next to Teddy's candy shop. She's close friends with Teddy and secretly has a crush on him, which may or may not be obvious to everyone except Ted. Like Ted, her business was challenged by Candyboy Corporations, forcing her to rally against the castle with Teddy,

The Ingredipets - Role of the Toppins: Little creatures resembling confectionary ingredients that were kidnapped and enslaved by Candyboy Corp. to make the companies candy. Teddy and his allies will save each of them to defeat their competitor. Ingredipets may be different depending on the character being played.

Captain Crackle (Peppino Ravioli) - Peppino in the Role of The Noise: Captain Crackle is a well-known cereal brand pirate captain mascot for the cereal of the same name. He's played by a worn-out has-been TV and opera celebrity Peppino Ravoli who does the bidding of Candyboy Corporations to make a living. He takes on three jobs: Captain Crackle, a Candyboy Corp. gift shop worker, and the Castle's TV News Anchor. He just wants to quit everything and live a peaceful life making pizza, his real dream.

Mr. Gus (Gustavo) - Gustavo in the Role of Noisette: Mr. Gus is Captain Crackle's pirate sidekick who serves as the comic relief character, always getting the short end of the stick and being kicked/thrown around the place for comedic effect. His actor, Gustavo, has a similar story to Peppino's, working for the castle, trying to sustain a living. He owns a secret soda tavern hidden from where his boss can find it.

Mr. Lollygagger - Pizzahead in the Role of Mr. Stick: Teddy's accountant who both does and doesn't take his job seriously. He pulls many gags toward his patrons to get them to comply with his offers and tries to pose as a nice, patient, and understanding accountant who needs money in exchange for a good offer. Ted's annoyed by him, A LOT.

Sapphire - Snick in the Role of Brick: An adventurous, rule-breaking, and cocky rock candy Porcupine who loves to skate on his hoverboard at the speed of sound. He becomes friends with Suzy after pestering her rule-following morals and later helps her and Teddy's journey.

Murray Muffinman - Pepperman in the Role of Gerome: An experimental artistic genius restrained to the role of maintaining the paint job of the castle. When he's on break he goes to his supply room to unleash his creativity through all sorts of mediums. He can be found all over the castle. He will reward his own art if he is helped to find his supply room.

Gumther Gumdrop - Vigilante in the Role of The Priest: Gumther is a farmer who grows sweet-tasting fruits that grant magical healing abilities. He sells his fruits in fruit stands all over the castle but it comes with a price.

Butler Scotch - Gerome in the Role of Pepperman: Scotch is the butler of the Royal Candy Family, who were the original owners of the castle before signing an agreement with Candyboy Corp. Scotch is the first boss Teddy has to fight due to one of the Royal Candy's prince (originally intended to fight Ted) left Scotch to stand on guard as he goes out for lunch.

The Pope - The Priest in the Role of The Vigilante: The leader of the Caramelist religious group and overseer of the Basilicaramel Church. After Teddy destroys the church during one of the levels, The Pope seeks to cleanse Ted of his sins by fighting against him.

Granny Candydimples - Granny Pizza in the Role of Pizzaface: The oldest member of the Royal Candy Family who was demoted and forced to the role of the CEO's assistant. She's kind-hearted and honest with no ill intent unlike her boss, going out of her way to disobey him sometimes.

Uncle Candiesworth - Pizzaface in the Role of Granny Pizza: The Uncle of the Royal Candy Family. He's one of the few family members who rebels against Candyboy Corporations and agrees to help Teddy and his friends destroy the castle. He's grumpy, bossy, and insults people constantly, but he has a good heart.

The Teddy Doll - Role of Fake Peppino: A cursed doll resembling Teddy. It's been presumed to have been cursed with dark magic, cast on by a cult. It is unknown what the purpose of this doll was for. All we know is that you won't see it in the same place it was left at the second you turn your back towards it.

Cookie Blair - Role of Mort the Chicken: Oh boy! It's Cookie Blair from the hit 90's 3D point-and-click PC abandonware game Cookie's Bustle! Watch as she and Teddy travel across Cookie City as Ted tries to hide Cookie from the police trying to remove her entire existence for good. (To whom it may concern (looking at you), I am not profiting off this project, therefore not profiting off Cookie's Bustle. Please don't copyright strike me or this project.)

Nezukira - Brick in the Role of Snick: Nezukira is the world-famous thunder rat character from the equally famous elemental critter collecting and fighting video game "Sackicritt". Nezukira is heavily merchandised with its adorable appearance; from plushes, socks, gummies, and cigars. Besides Nezukira, there are several other Sackicritts to obtain, with "Net Handlers" who accompany them.

Jen Beam - Role of John Pillar: Jen is the older sister of Butler Scotch. She is the caretaker/ruler of all the levels in the castle, making sure that everything is in order and won't crumble to the floor. She guards the door to each "dimensional control room" that deactivates the levels in the castle. She will only let people pass if she is given gourmet candy with the finest ingredients.

Candyboy - Role of Pizzaboy: Candyboy was the prime mascot and face of Candyboy Corporations. He's a happy-go-lucky, fun-loving, eccentric kid with all the childhood innocence packed into one. He loves candy and is very marketable. Despite Candyboy's innocent presence being long gone, he is still the face of the company.

The Candyman - Role of Pizzahead: The Candyman is the man behind the whole corporation, mostly know as the CEO. Not many have had the chance to meet The Candyman in person, but he's been said to be demanding, ruthless, and manipulative to get what he wants. He will do everything to gain the title of being the best confectionary business. If it exists, he wants it in his company.

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

And that's it for character introductions! I am planning on adding characters that will be entirely original in this AU like new friends that will accompany Ted, new bosses, and other characters that will build the world for this AU. Other stuff such as levels, music, and game mechanic ideas are in the works too. Lots of stuff is planned for this AU project!

If you want to make fan art for Confection Castle, go ahead! I love fan art! Just make sure to tag me if you post it. Other fan stuff like music is cool too!

Thanks for reading y'all.

(Also, I am not planning on making this an actual game as I have no experience with coding or stuff that is needed to actually make a game. But if anyone with experience with game design wants to make it happen...hit me up haha.)

[maxwell-mtv]

Maxwell_MTV's Store Swap AU for SDV!

[I've been working a lot as always, so it's been hard to write. But... I guess the stars are aligning because one of my fave artists and mutuals ( @vilochkaaa ) posted their own Store Swap AU art today (WHICH IS SUPER COOL YOU SHOULD CHECK IT IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT ALREADY!!!) and I was also planning on posting my own Store Swap AU stuff today that I've been working on...

I hope everyone enjoys! I've put my extra braincells into spicing this up. Written stuff is below the cut... I was allowed to cook and I made the best meal I could for all you wonderful folks out there lol]

Morris: You ever feel like you're doing better in another life?

The general idea:

In this universe, Pierre finds success after a long career as a professional boxer and manages to somehow use his fame to open a chain of convenience stores after he retires. This, of course, competes directly with Joja and while it’s not enough to drive them completely out of business, it manages to split business fairly evenly between the two.

While Pierre reaps the daily grind of those beneath him as the CEO of what is simplified to being called “Pierre’s”, someone else finds himself settling into a small town to try and live out his own dreams of running a store.

Morris:

While Pierre is living the dream, Morris has been put through the wringer. 

With the success of “Pierre’s”, many JojaMarts were forced to shut down as a result.

Morris was on a fast track to his first promotion to be a manager when his store had to shut down no thanks to “Pierre’s” success in that part of the city.

With the store shutting down, many were laid off (only current management got to relocate to other stores) so Morris became ✨unemployed✨.

While Morris began with quite the rising confidence as he gained notoriety in his store, him being laid off brought all that to a crashing halt.

So, with a new sense of humility given his circumstances, he gathers what he can and searches for a new path in life.

He finds himself in a small town by the seaside, a village, really, with how small the populace was. 

But during his time soaking in the calming charm of Pelican Town, he notices an issue with the locals.

All of them needed to take a day’s trip to the city to purchase their groceries for the week. A huge inconvenience for those who needed small, simple necessities like bread or toilet paper. And when it came to purchasing from the locals, many farmers were out of seasonal stock by the time the locals needed them.

So Morris takes the initiative and opens up what he calls “Morris’s Market” in the semi-vacant building next to the clinic.

Semi-vacant, only because of the public access to Yoba’s altar.

Morris runs a successful business, feeling himself renewed as he gains a positive reputation amongst the locals. 

But still there’s this feeling deep inside of him as though something had gone astray in his story. Like something in his fate had been tampered with to have stolen his dreams from him.

But thanks to time, he finds himself proud and content with his small success as a small businessman.

That is, until someone decides to break ground in his small town, which leads him to a dizzying disparaging of his confidence once again.

Morris, in a desperate plea to keep what he has, often finds himself praying in front of the altar beneath his home. Although he’s never been religious, he doesn’t think he can take another blow to his ego. At the end of the day, when numbers are crunched and sales are charted, he doesn’t see himself doing anything but this.

It is evident that in this universe, unlike canon, Morris is more humble and anxious. Where his insecurities were buried deep beneath the corporate mask JojaMart had given him in canon, he has nothing but his more organic self to offer to a fairly organic town. Polite, tired all the time, and just doing his best…  

Pierre:

After his famous career as a boxer comes to an honorable end, he retires and uses his fortune to start a business. With the charms of what is reminiscent of a small business, Pierre’s General Store (later simplified to “Pierre’s” for better mass marketing) goes toe-to-toe with Joja’s long time success as the better box store.

Competing with a conglomerate like Joja isn’t easy, but “Pierre’s” values that are taken straight from the founder himself aid in toppling them to a mere equal competitor.

"A family business from humble beginnings with the drive to give back to the farmers who give them their produce to sell."

It feels like a more country version of a Trader Joe’s. And (not to intentionally out my current geography) competes against Joja like Meijers does with a Kroger. 

On vaster scale, it’s like Walmart/Sam's Club against Costco…

Hard to explain but that’s the general vibes of “Pierre’s.”

After a little vacation to Pelican Town with his wife and daughter, he decides to take on a capital expenditure which challenges the very competence of his title as a CEO.

Seeing that the only store these people in the middle of the Valley were confined to were either his stores in the city or a “pathetic excuse of a general store” (his words, not mine), he has a little talk with the Mayor.

Breaking ground in Pelican Town was easy, a convenient plot of land was just over the bridge from where "Morris’s Market" was and so customers would be a breeze to snatch up.

Despite what his advisors warned him against, Pierre ignores all odds and sets his eyes on the prize. Not even JojaMart could do what he was about to do, and that would catapult him from just an equal competitor to the top dog. 

It was easy enough to draw a crowd, but there was a growing issue with his store just barely breaking even each week. It seemed that though the town flocked to him for most things, the majority tended to stick with “Morris’s Market” in the name of loyalty. I mean, it wasn’t like his prices were much better than Morris’s store anyways since he aimed for both profit and quality. 

As he contemplated it each morning as he hit the gym, the problem became all too clear to him. It wasn’t his prices or the quality of products, rather it was the sense of community amongst the town.

I mean, just look how they all gathered every month (sometimes more!) in that old, barely functional Community Center to hold meetings, plan festivities, hold celebrations, and just socialize and bond!

If only there was someway he could break that and shatter that sense of loyalty they had in the name of supporting their fellow townie.

It would be a shame, really… if someone were to report that sad, beaten building to the proper authorities for an inspection. Without the Mayor knowing of it, he might be able to convince them that the building wasn't just “well loved” as the Mayor put it and was hardly still up to code, if at all.

If only he could prove it wasn’t up to code…

Damn his advisors, damn his wife, and damn everyone in this "hick town". He will succeed at all costs… even if he loses his charms along the way. 

Pierre uses his charms as an admittedly still good looking man. If you ignore the small crook in his nose from it being broken too many times before, you’d see why his wife still stayed with him despite her seeming too sweet and meek for his own good. 

It would be easy, if he laid it on thick, to sway the town amongst a tragedy to lean on him in some regard. Just a little wink, an offer of setting up events every month outside his store. Hey, maybe if he could drive Morris’s store out of business he could buy that storefront from him and use it as the new gathering place. It seemed fitting seeing as half the town gathered there every Sunday for Yoba’s altar anyways.

It’s too bad his daughter puts a dent in his plans though… She never did outgrow that rebellious phase…

Pierre works out often in this universe, having the time and freedom to make his own schedule as CEO. He treats his family well enough, although he’s never home long enough to let them see the monster he’s let himself become. But his daughter can see glimpses in the way he talks to her and her mother that he’s not the same father he had once been. It’s like something changed in him along the way to make him worse than he’d been before…

Having never lost a match in his career, only when it was planned for ticket sales, Pierre has an inflated ego which blinds him to his own faults. In his eyes, this is the life he’s always been destined for. To be on the top of the world and determined to never fall from grace.

His daughter, on the other hand, would say otherwise. She often has a similar epiphany as Morris. Where an existential feeling of dread consumes her and deep down, despite her fairly privileged life, she knows this was not what she was destined for.

(I'd like to think Pierre just doesn't bother with the "no-homo" stuff and constantly flirts with Morris in this AU just to rile him up and throw him off his game. Especially when they get into fights about ethics and business and blah blah typical enemies to still enemies but also lovers stuff.)

[chipistrate]

I think something cool about modern fnaf is that- unlike other indie horrors (Bendy, Poppy Playtime, Indigo Park, etc etc)- the big corporation behind everything isn't. Personal? If that makes sense?

All of the listed games have faces to their companies, people who give speeches and are like the face of the company beside the mascot- they make the experience kind of. Personal. Hearing the dreams and wishes of the person behind the evil and explaining why they do what they do (or at least what they want you to think the motives are)

Modern Fnaf doesn't really have that- William and Henry are dead and we don't know who the new CEO of Faz Ent is. It's cold and corporate behind the colorful mascots. We know nothing about the goals of the owner/CEO, who they are, why they inherited/got ownership the company- we just know the colorful faces hiding whatever they're doing behind closed doors.

[gallifreyriver]

So, Kellogg's Boycott. Again. Haven't seen any posts about it here yet, so figured I'd make one.

In short: We're all tired of these big companies gouging their prices just because they can, and calling it 'inflation.' We're tired of companies announcing record profits while they cut bonuses/lay people off/force workers to run on skeleton crews/etc. We're tired of "Shrinkflation" And we're tired of a bunch of other shit too, but you get my point.

So, vote with your wallet.

On April 1st, stop buying Kellogg's, and keep that up until June 30th. Just three months- just one quarter of the fiscal year. Companies report earnings each quarter, and if their earnings drop it will reflect in these quarterly reports.

Why Kellogg's?

Because their CEO recently pulled a "Let them eat cake." TLDR; Kellogg's has raised prices by 28% across the board, bragged about record breaking profits, and then suggested that families struggling to afford groceries, because of aforementioned price gouging, just "eat cereal for dinner!"

And well, that message was not well received by anyone, as one could imagine. Pissed a lot of people off.

So yeah. The plan is to stop buying any Kellogg's products (below) for the entirety of the second quarter (April 1st-June 30th) and to collectively tell Kellogg to fuck off until they lower their prices. The goal isn't to "destroy the company" or cost anyone their jobs- but we will hit them where they will listen. Their profits.

If they don't listen, then we don't come back, and we start in on the next company, and keep going until they all get the message. There's always alternatives (more on that below) and we don't need them. If they refuse to drop their prices, then we just stick with the alternatives we found.

Three months is a minor inconvenience to teach a corporation a lesson, and we can do it.

So, take this month before April to find your alternatives. If you need help, I based a non-comprehensive list (below) off the image above. There's tons more just a google search away, and I bet others have made lists as well. There's also always the option to make your own. There's tons of recipes online showing how to make dupes of your favorite products.

Some things to note:

Don't go stocking up on your favorite Kellogg's products the last week of March and think you're not crossing the picket line. The point is to make Kellogg's feel the loss in profits, and stocking up on Cheez-its beforehand will defeat the purpose. I sincerely promise you can make it three months without buying Kellogg's. Again, three months is a minor inconvenience to teach a corporation a lesson, and we can do it.

That said, Safe Foods are acknowledged. If you or your child is neurodivergent and has issues with food (i.e: literally won't be won't be able to eat at all without their safe food) you get a pass. By all means feel free to try and find alternatives, but it's very unlikely that the few who can't boycott will cause it to fail. There should be plenty of the rest of us to pick up the slack.

Don't be a bystander- meaning don't go about this thinking "Oh, well surely there's enough people boycotting that it's fine if I just-" No. If we ever want things to change then we need to be strong enough to do even something as small as not buying something we like for three months. Furthermore, it's on those of us who can afford Kellogg's products to boycott Kellogg's. It's not the responsibility of those who already can't afford Eggos to boycott Eggos. Nothing will change if you go about just assuming everyone else already has it handled for you. Take a stand.

And importantly, Spread the word. This only works if we let as many people as possible know about it.

So reblog this post, or make your own post, or both. Even feel free to copy and paste this entire post off-platform if you need to. I've also seen some suggest making flyers, or even just writing on post-it notes, and sticking them to Kellogg's products in the store to spread the word off-line.

Just get the word out there. If we ever want these companies to stop gouging us for every cent we've earned, then we have to make a stand somewhere.

If we do nothing it will only ever get worse.

[kallie-den]

Lifestyle Takeover Ch. 1

Mel is tasked with taking down mean, domineering business rival Vivienne Gilbert - who, as it just so happens, is a secret superfan of Mel’s journalist best friend turned pet bimbo, Emma

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---

As she sat outside the CEO of Valeyard Solutions’s office, Mel Adams checked the time on her phone once more and sighed. Supposedly, her host was running five minutes late - this, from a woman who had never been tardy for anything in her life. Making Mel wait was the most transparent power play in the book, and worst of all, it was proving entirely effective at pissing her off.

Really, the whole situation was setting her on edge. An unfamiliar office in an unfamiliar building, opulent yet spartan, and Mel was about to meet one of the most formidable rising stars of the hypnogarch world. A woman who, like Mel, hailed from a social and economic elite who used mind control to leverage and reinforce their power. Only, unlike Mel, this woman had notches on her belt and a fearsome reputation. They were meeting on her turf, too. In hostile territory. Mel was out of her depth.

Which was, of course, the point. This was a test. Mel’s trial by fire, given to her by her parents. To become a fully-fledged hypnogarch, you had to be strong. If you weren’t, your peers would eat your lunch and make you thank them for it while your brains drooled out of your ears.

“Ms. Adams?” said a secretary, approaching and offering a polite little bow. “Thank you for waiting. The CEO will see you now.”

Mel rose from her seat and followed as the secretary led her into the office. She didn’t bother to reply. There was no point, and, like all the others, she gave Mel the creeps. The entire floor was staffed with near-identical women, all of whom wore identical outfits: tiny pencil skirts and tight, white blouses, open to expose cleavage - and all of them had suitable bodies to make the clothes distracting. But more to the point, each one of them had a certain telltale, glazed look in their wide, guileless eyes.

All of the secretaries were completely hypnotized.

It was another typical flex from a powerful hypnogarch. But just like making Mel wait, it was unnerving.

“Melanie Adams,” said the woman behind the CEO’s desk, as they reached her. She smiled a thin smile. “My. I suppose I should be honored.”

It was her. Vivienne Yvette Gilbert. Mel would have recognized her anywhere from all the magazine covers and fawning interviews. She looked just the way she always did in her photos: tall, professional, and classically beautiful, but modest, with her long, tailored suit only just tight enough to hint at the well-honed body underneath. Her auburn hair was tucked back in a neat, disciplined ponytail, and her eyes reflected a keen, vicious intelligence.

Vivienne Gilbert was a business savant, combining old money wisdom with new money ambition, and was, by all accounts, an extremely skilled hypnotist. Her company was taking the corporate world by storm, and the small army of brainwashed secretaries outside attested to her ability to get whatever she wanted from people, by any means necessary.

This was Mel’s test. This was the woman she had to destroy.

“Mel, please,” she offered. “And really, I’m the one who’s honored. Your time is valuable.”

Vivienne nodded graciously, and indicated for Mel to take a seat opposite her. The secretary who had led Mel inside stood at attention to one side, against a nearby wall.

“So,” Vivienne began. Her confidence was supreme. “To what do I owe this pleasure - a visit from the profligate faildaughter of two of high society’s most prominent elite?”

Mel bristled a little, but didn’t let it show in her face. “Curiosity, really. I thought that the two of us might want to get to know each other a little. After all, we’re both from the same generation, right? Just like mine, your parents were-“

“Cut the crap,” Vivienne interrupted with a slicing wave of her hand. She leaned forward. “My time is valuable - more valuable than yours, at any rate - so let’s not waste it. Despite your wasted youth, I’m told that you’ve recently taken a position as executive vice president at one of the family businesses. And recently, shell companies attached to your family have been making aggressive offers to buy out my stake in Valeyard - offers I have declined.”

Mel simply nodded. She wasn’t surprised to learn that Vivienne had figured this much out. Anything less would have been a disappointment.

“You’re here,” Vivienne surmised, “because your mothers asked you to make in-person overtures. They want my Valeyard, and they’ve sent you to persuade me to sell.” She let out a brief, quiet laugh. “Amusing.”

Mel spread her arms. “You’re correct, of course,” she replied. “So far, you’ve rejected all offers. That’s your right. But everybody has their price, even if it’s not monetary. Assurances, perhaps. A position in one of our conglomerates? With Valeyard in the family, we could achieve new levels of market dominance and integration. You could be part of that. You could reap the rewards. Power, prestige - you name it.”

It wasn’t a bad offer - but just as Mel had expected, Vivienne rolled her eyes.

“Sophistry,” the CEO dismissed. “You and your parents simply want to take what’s rightfully mine. You want control - and you want it because you’re afraid. My Valeyard’s quarterly numbers put all of yours to shame. For now, I’m just a good story. A new, rising star. But in a few years, I’ll be knocking at your family’s doors. Challenging your mothers. I’ll be a competitor. A rival. A threat.”

Mel said nothing. She wasn’t wrong.

“Let me make this very clear.” Vivienne smiled a shark’s smile. “I am a threat. You and your mothers are right to be afraid. I’m not willing to be a partner or a pawn, or a… vice president.” She sneered the last two words. “I intend to come out on top. Understand?”

“With respect,” Mel replied, after a moment’s consideration. “Valeyard isn’t exactly rightfully yours, is it? You’ve already shown a willingness to jump ship, given the right opportunity. After all, you didn’t found this company. You simply acquired it. You took advantage of someone else’s capital and someone else’s ideas. Perhaps we aren’t so different.”

Vivienne simply laughed at the provocation. “You really are new to this world, aren’t you?” she mocked. “Yes, I acquired Valeyard. I took it from the original owner. Do you understand what that means? It’s mine. Not hers. Mine. She lacked the strength to hold on to what she’d built, and I had the strength to take it. That’s the very definition of rightful ownership.”

“I understand,” Mel retorted. “And you’ve guided the company all the way to the top of the stock market. Some would say you’ve already proven yourself.”

“Some would say?” Vivienne echoed derisively. “Ridiculous. You’ll have to do much better than that if you expect to convince me. Especially since I suspect that your mothers would prefer I end up much like the original founder.”

“And how’s that?” Mel asked.

Vivienne’s smile grew wider than ever, and she gestured off to one side. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Hairs stood at attention on the back of Mel’s neck as she realized Vivienne was indicating the brainwashed, identity-scrubbed secretary who’d led her into the office.

At first, it seemed absurd to believe that such a sharp, entrepreneurial mind could have been so completely blunted. But Mel knew all too well just how far someone could fall given the right kind of treatment, and besides, now that she was looking closely, there was a certain, unmistakably resemblance between the woman standing at attention before her and the woman she’d seen in old photographs when she’d been researching Valeyard’s history.

How long must she have been a mind-controlled thrall by now? Years? It was terrible to imagine - but the worst part was that, even as they were talking about her, the woman’s eyes registered absolutely nothing but blank, blissful, helpless compliance.

For the first time, Mel felt truly intimidated by the task her mothers had presented her with.

“By the time she signed over her company to me, she couldn’t even remember what she was losing.” Mel turned back to Vivienne and saw that she was turning over a pocket watch between her fingers. It was, by all accounts, her preferred instrument of control. “Still, I suppose she’s happy enough - serving me. It’s right where she belongs. Don’t you think?”

Mel just sighed. “I don’t think you intend to seriously entertain any offer I make you.”

“At least you’re smart enough to have figured that out,” Vivienne remarked. She closed her pocket watch and slipped it back into her jacket pocket. “No, I don’t. I just wanted to get your measure. And if you’re the best your mothers can send, well… I’m not impressed.”

“I see,” Mel said stiffly. She stood. “In that case, I won’t take up any more of your precious time.”

“Very gracious.” Vivienne replied contemptuously. She stood too, and indicated the door. “I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of showing yourself out.”

Mel turned, ready to leave. Vivienne didn’t seem to have figured out that Mel had been sent to brainwash her, not persuade her. That was, perhaps, a tiny advantage - but she couldn’t imagine how she might possibly leverage it. She’d seen no hint of any chink in Vivienne’s armor, and given that Mel’s skills as a hypnotist were still developing, she couldn’t see herself winning out in a fair fight. She needed an angle, but there was none.

What did that leave? How was she possibly supposed to win?

At that moment, as Mel was taking her first step towards the door, something happened that caught her attention: her and Vivienne’s phones both buzzed and lit up at exactly the same moment.

Vivienne’s phone buzzed all the time, of course. But for it to happen at precisely the same instant was a little weird. It was as if they had just received the exact same notification. Mel had to assume it was nothing more than a coincidence, but all the same, she found herself glancing at her phone to check.

It was a notification from her girlfriend Emma’s OnlyFans.

Mel didn’t really need to sign up for it - after all, Emma was not only her girlfriend, she was brainwashed to adoringly follow every one of Mel’s wishes. But Mel stayed signed up all the same, both to be supportive and because Emma regularly posted some very, very high-quality content. Despite all the brainpower she’d lost, she was quickly developing her talents as both a model and a photographer. The image set Emma had just posted was particularly alluring: she was dressed, as usual, in pink, skimpy exercise gear, and was in a series of unbelievable poses that perfectly showcased her sluttiness, her flexibility, and her curves all at once. Mel was lucky enough to be able to enjoy that body every night, but even so, it got her just a little hot and bothered.

Quickly, Mel slipped her phone away and chalked the simultaneous notifications up to coincidence. After all, there was no way that Vivienne Gilbert, of all people, was signed up to Emma’s OnlyFans.

Or so she thought, until she looked over and saw Vivienne staring at her screen with a faint but distinct blush in her cheeks.

It still seemed impossible. But suddenly Mel found herself wondering.

“Vivienne?” Mel voiced cautiously. “Is something up?”

“Hm?” Abruptly, Vivienne realized that she was still in the presence of her guest. “No. No, of course not,” she said, a touch too sharply. “But as you can see, I’m very, very busy. Please leave.”

Her tone was off - and more to the point, Mel caught a glimpse of something damning as Vivienne slipped her phone into her pocket.

The OnlyFans logo.

“Of course,” Mel said. “Goodbye.”

She left the Valeyard headquarters with a fresh spring in her step. It had come from the unlikeliest of places, and she still wasn’t sure of her next move, but suddenly Mel had something to work with.

She’d just found her angle.

***

“Hey, Emma? I’m back!”

As soon as Mel stepped into their penthouse apartment and called out to her girlfriend, Emma Park started bouncing toward her with the energy of a golden retriever.

“Babe!” she gushed, as she leapt into Mel’s arms. “Ohmigosh, you’re like, so early!”

Mel couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Bouncing’ really was the most appropriate term. On top, Emma was wearing nothing but a pink sports bra that was specifically intended to look tight and press her cleavage together while doing absolutely nothing to keep her assets from jiggling up and down as she exercised vigorously for her audience.

Emma Park, exercise bimbo. It was her brand, and she worked it marvelously.

“I just couldn’t stay away,” Mel said brightly. “I love you, Em.”

Emma’s whole face lit up. “I love you too!” she exclaimed, delighted, and started giggling.

As it often did, even after six months, seeing Emma like that did hit Mel with a certain pang. After all, Mel had made her girlfriend this way. Unbeknownst to Emma, Mel had transformed her from a brave, smart muckraker to an airheaded, giggly bimbo. It had been done out of love, because it had seemed like the surest way to save Emma from herself, and from the clutches of the kind of mind controllers she was investigating - but still, it troubled Mel that she’d needed to take from Emma so much of the sharpness and activist passion that she’d always loved about it.

She’d tried to preserve, though, the kernel of all that. Emma’s passion; her energy and drive, her enthusiasm for her work, and her talent for connecting with an audience. It just so happened that, now, all of that was directed differently, at her OnlyFans career instead of investigative journalism. Emma was flourishing in her life: she was hot, successful, popular, healthier than ever - and most importantly of all, happy.

Mel had her pangs of guilt, but making sure the girl she loved was happy and safe was something she would never be sorry for.

“Actually,” Mel said, pushing down on her reflections. “I have an ulterior motive. I’m here because I need to talk to you. I was hoping you could help me out with… with a work thing.”

“Oh, woah,” Emma tittered, dragging Mel over to their couch. “I dunno, I’m not good with all that, like, smart corporate stuff.”

“True,” Mel conceded. “But in this case… look, what if I wanted to track down someone on OnlyFans? Someone who I knew was one of your patrons on there?”

“Oh!” Emma seemed surprised at the question, but her eagerness shone through. “Well, um… do you know, like their username or anything?”

“I’m afraid not,” Mel replied. “I know who they are in real life, and I know - or, at least, I’m hoping - that they’re signed up to support you. I just need to try and dig into that a little more.”

“Hmm.” Emma stood up and started pacing circles around their apartment. It was a huge space - an open-plan penthouse that Mel had lived in alone for years. There had been plenty of room for Emma, and now part of it had been converted to serve as a dedicated exercise area and set. “I dunno… I mean, most people are pretty, like… what’s the word… anonymous?”

“Yeah.” Mel slumped. “Damn. I should have figured.”

“Sooo.” Emma leaned over and peered at Mel. “Who is it, anyway?”

“Vivienne Gilbert,” Mel said. “She’s a big-time CEO,” she added, when Mel gave her a blank look. “It’s for my folks. They want me to… well, to brainwash her somehow.”

She hesitated to mention it to Emma at first. The old Emma wouldn’t have approved. In truth, the old Mel might not have either. She’d always kept hypnogarch power games at arm’s length, but masterminding Emma’s transformation had given her a certain taste for it - a taste her mothers had been eager to help develop. Now, Mel was coming into her own as both a business leader and a mind controller. She was steadily becoming the kind of heir her mothers could be proud of.

But Vivienne Gilbert, it seemed, stood in her way.

“Hmm,” Emma pondered for a long moment. “Well, um… if she’s, like, super-rich, then maybe she’ll be, like… one of the real big spenders?”

Mel’s eyes went wide. Clearly, some of Emma’s old journalistic instincts were still in there - and she’d never been more glad.

“Oh my god!” she cried. “Emma, you’re a genius.”

At that, her girlfriend just giggled.

“Can you show me a list?” Mel asked urgently. “Maybe something will jump out.”

“Sure!”

Emma perched back down on the couch, brought up her OnlyFans on her phone, and, with Mel peering over her shoulder, navigated to a list of her supporters and sorted them by total financial contribution.

The top name immediately stood out. A ludicrously huge tipper - anonymous, but with the email address ‘anon-of@valeyard.com’.

Gotcha. Mel could have danced a jig.

Instead, she reached over Emma’s shoulder and took the phone from her girlfriend’s hands. With manic energy, Mel navigated to what had to be Vivienne’s profile and started looking over her activity history. Not only was she a big spender, she had also left long, enthusiastic comments on every single one of Emma’s posts, including the one Emma had put up during their meeting.

‘Emma!’ it read, ‘my goodness, you NEED to stop distracting me while I’m in meetings… I’m going crazy, this is your best set of pics yet! I know I always say that, but WOW. I’m SOOOO jealous of your mysterious mistress for getting to put her hands all over you all night long. What I wouldn’t do to take her place… she must be quite the woman, I can see that she’s left you with nothing to worry about except pumping reps, draining your brain, and showing yourself off. No worries, no cares, no stresses, just perfect, bimbo bliss. Honestly, I’m a little jealous… but mostly I’m so glad I get to be your no. 1 fan!’

Mel wasn’t one to judge, but she couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. She was having a hard time picturing the icy, vicious CEO she’d just met with saying something like that. The message was gushy, to say the least, but the detail about the meeting all but confirmed Mel’s suspicion about this being Vivienne. More importantly than anything - even her obsession with Emma - Mel detected something crucial in Vivienne’s message. A kind of confused longing, as the CEO described Emma’s ‘bimbo bliss.’ It was enough to make Mel wonder which of them, exactly, the woman was truly jealous of.

Maybe, just maybe, Vivienne Gilbert’s armor wasn’t so impenetrable after all.

And maybe Mel had the perfect weapon sitting right by her side, giggling happily.

“Hey, Emma,” Mel said slowly, as a plan started to form in her head. “What do you say to making a special little thank you video for your number one fan?”

***

As soon as Vivienne Gilbert closed the door to her family’s mansion behind her and felt herself safe from prying eyes, she let her shoulders slump and permitted herself to release a deep, weary sigh. It had been a long day - but then, weren’t they all? - and by the time the last of Vivienne’s engagements had concluded, the sun was long since set. Her staff had retired to their quarters for the night, leaving Vivienne alone to rest for the night.

For five hours - six, if she was really lucky - before she would have to wake up and do it all over again.

When Vivienne had first set her sights on the very pinnacle of social, economic, and mental dominance, she hadn’t quite appreciated how bone-weary the struggle would leave her, day after day. There was no end to it: to the challengers, rivals, competitors and schemers, each one of whom needed to be managed, defeated or subverted as Vivienne climbed her way to the top.

It was a good thing, then, that being in her family’s old home always reignited the flame of Vivienne’s ambition. She remembered it as it had been in her youth: grand, yes, but dark, faded, outdated. Now, thanks to the fortune she had amassed, it had been reborn in splendor. Thanks to her tireless efforts, the name ‘Vivienne Gilbert’ echoed through the corridors of power.

Yes. For this, it was all worth it.

The corners of Vivienne’s lips turned upward in a faint sneer as she remembered how, in their meeting earlier that day, Melanie Adams had tried to draw some kind of comparison between their upbringings. Ridiculous. What would she know? Melanie Adams was the daughter of two prominent, rich, successful hypnogarchs at the top of their game. She couldn’t possibly fathom the kind of scorn that was piled on the daughter of a fading, old-money family being overtaken by a new generation of power-hungry leaders. She had been allowed to laze about for years and take an interest in business and hypnosis when it pleased her, while Vivienne had been orphaned as she’d left business school, and forced to fight alone in the hungry power games that dominated their society in order to secure her position and rebuild her family name.

Melanie Adams couldn’t fathom that kind of drive. She was just another trust fund brat, underestimating her.

But that was OK. It would just make it all the more satisfying when Vivienne ate her mothers’ companies alive and made them beg to lick her shoes clean.

Vivienne smiled ruefully to herself as she let down her long, wavy, auburn hair. Spite was as good a motivator as any. Getting to crush irritating little bugs like Melanie Adams was one of the many pleasures of success. That was, admittedly, a few years away. With her at the helm, Valeyard had taken the corporate world by storm, and was well on its way to becoming a major player, but rapid expansion took time and careful management. For tonight, Vivienne would simply have to find some way to relax in the brief time she could afford before going to bed.

Right on time, her phone chirped with an incoming notification.

When she looked and saw that it was an OnlyFans post, Vivienne’s stomach filled with a delicious, naughty sense of arousal and anticipation. Her OF subscriptions were her guilty pleasure - a secret one, of course. In her line of work, it could be dangerous to let one’s pleasures and proclivities become widely known, which was why Vivienne was always very careful to use a dummy corporate email with no name attached. Valeyard had thousands of employees, and there was nothing to tie her account back to her.

Which meant that, when the mood took her, Vivienne was free to enjoy herself in peace.

Vivienne rushed upstairs to her bedroom, perched on the edge of her huge bed, and opened up OnlyFans. Her wicked excitement doubled when she saw who the notification was from: Emma. Her very favorite. Two posts from her in one day was a rare treat.

The CEO’s eyes widened when she realized that the notification wasn’t a post at all. It was a private message.

‘hiiii,’ it read. ‘hope you’re doing just peachy! I know you’re all anonymous and I like totally respect that! but I also rly rly wanted to do something extra special for my no 1 fan!! so here’s a special private vid nobody else gets to see!!! hope you enjoy it!!! Emma xoxo’

For the first time in Vivienne Gilbert’s life, she felt herself genuinely starstruck. Her heart was pounding, and a giddy, nervous smile came to her face. Her fingertips trembled as she tapped on the screen and downloaded the attached video.

More than once, she’d felt a little embarrassed by how much she’d willingly given to Emma’s OnlyFans. But now, she was nothing but grateful.

Emma wasn’t Vivienne’s only OF sub, but she was by far her favorite. It was difficult to put her finger on why; to Vivienne, Emma was simply perfect. The perfect bimbo. Hot? Yes. Dumb? Yes. Blonde, pink, submissive? Extremely. But beyond that - and beyond any other brainwashed bimbo Vivienne had ever seen - there was something truly, remarkably carefree about Emma. When she giggled, or posed, or exercised for the camera, there was something magical about the way all the old, faded little worry lines in her face completely evaporated, leaving her the very image of mindless, brainwashed bliss.

Whoever her mistress was, they clearly took excellent care of her.

After discovering Emma’s OnlyFans, Vivienne had often considered taking on a bimbo pet of her own. It wouldn’t have been difficult - for a person of her resources and a hypnotist of her talents, there were any number of women who could easily be molded into her ideal bimbo plaything. It might even make a nice change from the identical, obedient secretaries that had become Vivienne’s signature.

But somehow, she just couldn’t bring herself to.

She lacked the time, Vivienne reasoned. Or, perhaps, she didn’t want a distraction from her work. Perhaps she didn’t want her fondness for bimbos to be so easily discovered by one of her many, many enemies. Those were all fine reasons - but they weren’t the real reason. Deep down, Vivienne knew that the reason she loved Emma’s content so much wasn’t because she wanted to own a bimbo like her.

It was because she was ever so slightly envious of her.

Just thinking about it brought a faint blush to Vivienne’s cheeks. It was embarrassing. Mortifying, even, for a woman like her. But in her heart of hearts, she couldn’t deny that there was something appealing about the idea of sinking into that carefree bimbo mindset - of forgetting all the stresses and pressures that accompanied her career, and becoming so dumb and giggly that none of it seemed to matter.

Looking at Emma on OnlyFans made her feel that longing far more keenly, somehow.

It was, of course, a deeply inappropriate and shameful desire for a hypnogarch to entertain. Vivienne had to excuse it to herself as nothing more than an aberration of her psyche; a byproduct of the immense stress she was under, day after day. It had no deeper meaning. It was a fantasy. Nothing more.

And crucially, nobody would ever know.

Safe and secure in that knowledge, Vivienne got comfy on her bed and hit ‘play’ on the video Emma had sent her.

It began with a familiar scene: the set Emma used to film almost all her videos. It was a space in some kind of large apartment, with the floor covered in exercise mats, set against a pink, decorated backdrop. In front of it, Emma stood, and her outfit immediately sent thrilling shivers racing down Vivienne’s spine.

She was dressed up like a cheerleader. That was new.

Emma certainly had the body to pull off the tiny top and scandalous, pleated miniskirt. She was in incredible shape. Her body put Vivienne’s to shame, and that was saying something. Vivienne flattered herself that she looked good. She’d been blessed by genetics, and she incorporated enough exercise into her routine to keep her waist trim and her butt bubbly and shapely. She made sure, of course, to dress with the kind of restraint and dignity that befitted her station, but she’d often found it useful to be able to distract the eye of a prospective rival with a hint of her shapely legs or prodigious cleavage. All the better to lull them into a trance.

Emma, though? She was simply in a different league. All the time and effort she spent working on her body really showed.

One more thing to be envious of.

“Hiiii,” Emma squealed gleefully on the video, with a little bounce that was hot and adorable in equal measure. “Wow! I just, like, love getting to say hi to my number one fan! You’ve given me so much, I really just wanna give you a little gift in return. As, like, a thank-you!”

Vivienne found herself surprisingly flustered. She’d never dared hope for even this level of personal attention from her idol.

“You’ve been cheering me on soooo much, all this time,” Emma went on. “So I figured, maybe I should do a little cheering for you? That’s… um… it’s… irony? I think?”

She giggled. Vivienne did too.

“You must really super like me.” As she spoke Emma bent down and picked up a pair of pom-poms that had been resting at her feet, one in each hand - pink, of course. “I’m, like, totally flattered. Sorta makes me wonder… why? Like, how come you like me so much?”

Already, Vivienne was mesmerized. Emma just looked so good. She made a mental note to reply to the bimbo’s message and explain every little thing she loved about her.

“I mean, obviously I’m, like, so pretty and hot.” Emma struck a little pose. Vivienne purred appreciatively. “But, maybe it’s something more than that?” She giggled. “I dunno. I guess I’m not smart enough to figure out stuff like that.”

Her mindless, carefree laugh washed over Vivienne like a warm, calming ocean tide. Yes, this was the perfect way to relax after a long day.

“Anyway!” Emma made a little show of bending this way and that, stretching and warming in. In the process, her pleated skirt rode up over her ass and hips, giving Vivienne quite the eye-candy to enjoy. “Here I go!”

Vivienne was holding her phone closer and closer to her face. She didn’t want to miss a thing. Already, her body was buzzing with pleasant arousal. Seeing Emma giggle and trip up on her words and bounce around always did it for her, and the CEO was becoming more and more aware of the pent-up need that had been building inside her all day. Her hand started to stray down, toward the hem of her pants.

Abruptly, music started to play. Not a soundtrack, added in post. This was playing out loud on Emma’s set - a bright, upbeat pop track that immediately had Vivienne tapping her fingers along with the rhythm. And then, Emma started to cheer.

“One! Two! One! Two!” Emma sang, each one of her words punctuated by motion: a sway of her hips, a motion of her pom-poms, all perfectly in time with the music. “Emma’s the only one for you!”

Vivienne giggled. It was a perfectly cute, silly little chant for a bimbo like Emma. And, she supposed, it wasn’t far wrong.

“One! Two! One! Two! Emma’s the only one for you!” Emma repeated, still dancing. As she bounced up and down, the way her big, bimbo tits bounced beneath her hopelessly inadequate top was mouth-watering. “One! Two! One! Two! Emma’s the only one for you!”

She kept chanting it, over and over, each word inflected with pure, giddy eagerness. Vivienne was utterly captivated. It was so enchanting to think that this video was just for her. For no one else. As she watched, Emma’s ditzy chant quickly started to worm its way into the CEO’s head. Something about it was infectious. It occupied her attention so completely, she failed to notice the deep, echoey, binaural tones that were slowly creeping into the music.

“One! Two! One! Two! Emma’s the only one for you!” Emma paused briefly to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her forehead was shining with sweat, and she was all the more attractive for it. “Hey, why don’t you, like, chant along with me?”

Vivienne rolled her eyes. She couldn’t imagine herself doing something like that. But all the same, the suggestion made her slip her hand down into her panties. She was already turned on.

“Oh, wait! That would be silly.” Emma giggled. ���It would have to be, like…” She started bouncing to the music again. “One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

Vivienne shivered rapturously as she drew a finger across her sensitive lips, and grinned wider than ever. Emma’s new chant, with its energetic triple beat, was quickly proving to be even more of an earworm.

“C’mon!” Emma urged, after a little more cheering. “Give it a try? For your fav little bimbo?”

She made the cutest, poutiest face Vivienne had ever seen, and even the hard-hearted CEO couldn’t bring herself to refuse. In truth, she was already half-murmuring along to the silly little rhyme.

“One, two, three,” Vivienne said out loud, keeping time with Emma as the bimbo started chanting again in the video. “One, two, three. Emma’s the only one for me.”

She let out a bashful little laugh. There was nobody around to hear, but all the same, the cheer made her feel self-conscious. It wasn’t all bad, though. When was the last time Vivienne had been able to do something so frivolous?

“Yay!” Emma cried. Vivienne had to remind herself it was just a recording. Clearly, Emma had anticipated her participation. “See? Isn’t this fun?”

As Emma kept cheering - and Vivienne along with her - the CEO was forced to admit that it was. There was something disarmingly simple and joyful about the chant. Already, Vivienne could feel weight being lifted from her shoulders. When she focused her mind on the words, the rhythm, the rhyme, it made it all the easier to forget about the stresses of her daily life.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Emma’s the only one for me.”

Vivienne kept going, and her mood kept brightening. Each word of the little cheer bounced into the next, carried by the tempo of the music, and any brief pause that might have led to stray thoughts was instead occupied with staring at Emma’s gorgeously toned body as the bimbo jumped and pranced for Vivienne’s entertainment.

Vivienne felt something wet on her chin, and realized she was actually drooling over her. That should have been embarrassing, but somehow she was beyond that, struck with a giddy, infectious enthusiasm that left her uninhibited and euphoric about everything.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Emma’s the only one for me!”

Her chanting steadily picked up in volume and enthusiasm. Vivienne was slipping further and further into the right mood for it. More and more, she felt oddly like she was really there with Emma, dancing with her, imitating her. Maybe it was just how close she was holding her phone to her face. She felt like Emma’s bimbo-themed home gym was all around her. Her vision was starting to blur from how focused she was - or was it something on the video, instead? Some kind of compression artifacting that manifested as sweeping, spiraling patterns, prickling in and out of existence around the edges of the frame?

Vivienne wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away and check. She didn’t want to miss a single moment of Emma’s video.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

She was so relaxed. Perfectly relaxed. It was blissful. And as Vivienne’s muscles gradually let go of all the tension she’d been carrying around, waves of pleasure and arousal started to course through her body. Between her legs, her pussy, dripping on the bedsheets beneath, demanded more and more attention. Vivienne started moving her fingers faster and faster - stroking her cunt in time with the music, in fact.

It felt incredible. This was exactly the relaxation she had been craving. The pleasure was washing away all her stress. Vivienne longed to sink deeper into it, to luxuriate in it - safe in the knowledge that she was anonymous to Emma. Her fingertips dipped inside her cunt, and her chants turned into moans.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

“You know,” Emma said, dropping her chant. Vivienne kept it going. “Cheering like this makes me feel so, like, happy, y’know?”

Vivienne nodded as if Emma could see her. She was so lost to pleasure, she failed to realize the absurdity of that.

“Just… kinda bubbly and silly and fun!” Emma struck an adorable pose. “Like… I don’t even need to worry about thinking for myself!”

The pose flipped up Emma’s skirt, and Vivienne gasped pleasurably as she saw that Emma was naked beneath the skirt, and dripping down her sculpted thighs.

“It’s just perfect!” Emma exclaimed, giggly. “Totally perfect for a bimbo like me, anyway. Not having to think feels, like, sooooo good.”

Vivienne just nodded again. That sounded just right to her. Still, she was moaning the dumb cheer Emma had given her.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

“It’s so much better this way.” Emma’s hand drifted down, stroking over her midriff, reaching for herself in unmistakable arousal. “No silly worries… no silly cares… I’m wayyy too dumb for that now.”

Once more, Vivienne nodded eagerly and moaned her new mantra. It sounded so good. So blissful. Vivienne could only fantasize about what it might be like to live in such a permanent state of dumb, horny euphoria.

“All I have to do,” Emma half-moaned, half-giggled, “is look hot, and listen to the music, and shake my pretty little ass for my owner!”

It all sounded so right. More and more, as she succumbed to a pleasure-drunk trance, Vivienne felt as though she could hear other things, too. Other lyrics, buried in the music, barely audible, but layered, so that they flowed into her brain without resistance. That should have been a red flag, but her defenses were down. With each beat, Vivienne’s fingers pumped in and out of her needy cunt, driving more and more of her rational thoughts out of her head.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

Vivienne’s voice was filled with more joy and enthusiasm than ever, but she was losing the rhythm as heaving moans robbed her of her breath. Her pleasure was cresting, driven by the merciless pumping of her fingers. When the orgasm hit her, Vivienne screamed and thrashed, but even then she didn’t stop cheering. She couldn’t. The music drove her onward, as did her endless craving for the empty, bimbo bliss Emma’s words suggested. She just kept muttering, over and over, in a ceaseless, mindless drone.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me! One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me! One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

She didn’t stop, not even after her orgasm faded. Vivienne even kept touching herself, keeping her pleasure at a roiling boil, driving herself onwards towards the next peak. The music demanded it, and so did Vivienne’s own, insatiable arousal. Nothing had ever felt as good as this. So, she just kept chanting, and touching herself, and working herself even deeper into an eager, compliant trance.

“OK!” Emma announced on the video abruptly, in her giggly, bimbo drawl. “I think that’s enough fanservice from me. But… if you’re really my number one fan, you wanna know what I’d really like you to do?”

Vivienne was just barely conscious enough to nod.

“I want you,” Emma giggled, “to go back to the start of this video, and, like, watch it all over again from the start! M’kay?”

There was no question of doing otherwise. Though her hand was trembling with aftershocks of pleasure, Vivienne managed to use her thumb to scroll all the way back to the start on her phone. At once, it began to play again.

“Hiiii,” the recorded Emma said. “Wow! I just, like, love getting to say hi to my number one fan!”

For hours, until exhausted sleep finally claimed her, Vivienne watched the video over and over again, looping it each time as Emma instructed. Each time, she kept chanting and kept touching herself, conditioning herself to accept all the pleasure Emma’s message offered, bringing herself to orgasm after orgasm, and etching all the subliminal, hypnotic suggestions buried within the video into her brain.

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, Grillfan65, The Secret Subject, Morriel, Dex, orangesya, dmtph, MegatronTarantulas, Madeline, BTYOR, Sarah, Mattilda, Emily Queen of sloths, Neana, Shadows exile, Abigail, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, Jade, mintyasleep, Michael, Tasteful Ardour, Chris, Dennis, Full Blown Marxism, Morder, S, Brendon, Drone 8315, Jim, Erin, HannahSolaria, hellenberg, Kay, Miss_Praxis, Violet, Noct, Charlotte, Faun, BrinnShea, B, Foridin, Jennifer, EepyTimeTea, Phoenix, Jim, Sebastian, Joseph, Thomas, Liz, naivetynkohan, Basic dev, SuperJellyFrogEx, Katie, Lily, spyrocyndersam13, zzzz, Mal, Bouncyrou, Nimapode, Ash, Artemis, Geckonator, TheRealG, Anonymous, J, GladiusLumin, Ada, Marina, Space Prius, Alex, Michael, Thomas, Dasterin, Djura, Pluto, Daedalus, Joe, Mattilda, Ana, proletkvlt, DOLLICIOUS, Yodasgirl, Allie~, Cusco-, Griffin, Bouncyrou, Hazelpup, Jakitron, Leah, ravenfan, Ash, ferretfyre, Christopher, Alphy D, Latavia, KBZ, Ashe, jlc, Jackson, Elizabeth, noe, Steve, Melo, gynoidpoet, MaeMae2569, Lexi, Thomas, Haggisllama, naughtzero, Alan

Finally, special thanks to Neana for commissioning this story!

[madness-combat-confessions]

Homeboy let me tell you on this one, I didn't know there's a madcom specific confession blog out here its quite surprising which. oh brother (gender neutral). you would loooovvveee this particular gossip that had been navigating its way to the dark tunnels of my mind back and forth like a wandering ghost about to get fucking tazed by someone who's reeling in power trip in the distant northern region of britain because buddy, do you know that feeling of self discovery plundered about with self resignation? I've been WAITING to confess this my whole life, I'm like a sinner in one of those confession box and you in your awesome fit is listening to a year long obsession crumpled into few paragraphs with no way of knowing who I am or where to exorcise me. ehhehehehe. AHAHAHAHHAHA.

I FUCKING HATE PHOBOS. IHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIM—

OBSESSION SO FIXED IT IS A BLESSING IN FORM OF FAILED LOBOTOMY. HE'S BEEN ON MY LIFESPAN UNBEARABLY WELCOMING LIKE THE GRIP OF AN BOXER,

I HATE. HIM.

HIS EXISTENCE IS NOTHING SHORT BUT AN MIRACLE TO MY BLEAK EXISTENCE, OF WHOM HAD FILLED MY TORMENTED COMPLEX WITH A LITTLE BIT OF JOY THAT IT. HURT. IT'S A SENSATION OF RETURNED LOSS WHENEVER HE MADE HIMSELF AT HOME WITHIN MY TORMENT NEXUS AND IT SPEAKS OF AN UNSPOKEN RESIGNATION TO A DEATHLY WORSHIP, A FIXATION SO BOUND SO BLINDING ITS LIFE RUINING YET SO FUCKING REWARDING. MY MUTUALS, MY DEAREST BELOVED MUTUALS WHO HAD KNOWN ME FROM MY MADCOM PHASE (if y'all see this and recognize me somehow, hey man), SEES ME AS— you know what they see? THEY SEES ME AS T.H.E PHOBOS ENJOYER. THEY CAN S E E ME SCRAPING HELL TO BACK FOR A REMINDER OF HIS IMAGE ON THEIR WINDOWS AS IF I WAS THEIR NEIGHBOR GOING MAD AND DIGGING A HOLE OVER IT BECAUSE I HATE HIM SO MUCH

HOWEVER... I LOVE HIM AS A CHARACTER TOO BECAUSE OF HOW MUCH HE HAD OFFERED ME TO GROW AS A PERSON AND THAT UTTERLY WRECKED ME.

THIS VISAGE OF A BARREN EMPIRE, HE HAS BROUGHT ME TO TEARS AS MUCH AS HE HAD MADE ME BARKED. HE HELPED ME UNLIKE ANY OTHER IN MY FUCKING LIFE AND ISN'T THAT JUST DISSAPOINTING YET BEAUTIFUL? ITS HIM. HIM THAT MADE ME REALIZE MY HUMANITY.

He's a reminder of what I could've be if I don't step up to care for my mental health, and as hot as the idea of me being a CEO there's no fucking way I'll fucking bootlick the horrors beyond my comprehension especially when I have the corporate power not to. I wanna fight those thangs, I want a war not power. Its because of this very reason that he's my existential horror that I don't mind worshiping. A welcoming hand to my new world as a human being instead of a piece of nothing, and I don't know if I should be thankful or be angry that it was him instead of tha hottie sweetie Sanford. But. Its undeniable of what he had done to me. There's a piece of me in that wretched soul, I can't help but to care but for the HATE I have for him this care has been translated in the same manner of how people treated Spamton G Spamton. Violence all the way, a beautiful blend of loving violence. I'll worship him from hell to back if it meant that I could beat the ever loving FUCK outta this mf, I want his blood in my kidneys and for it break down the animalistic copper from my taste buds into nutrients so that my arteries can intimately understand how much I have come to HATE him since he decided to break into my psyche all those years ago. He made me understand myself, I find that beautiful.

Its been one year since the obsession wore off you know? I don't gone mad no more baby, the sin of gluttony and wrath no longer traced the ceiling of my mind because all is there is ORDER. A calm acknowledgement of what he had done to me as a person. But no laws can tame the most shitheads of them all, you won't hear me saying this if it had won the internal war back here in my frontal cortex.

I love him, your honor. And because of that I desire so greatly for the act of violence both to him and in his name as a honor to myself, whole and bare, which eventually circles back to him again.

The complexity of my opinion on him were a beautiful tapestry of my own personal growth, a careful blend of colorful care. I no longer feel indifferent towards myself and its all thanks to him. He's my most beloved blorbo, he saved me from a life of neverending agony. I pray every day that I could get a job just so that one day, ONE. DAY. our lord Krinkles turned him into a marketable plushie. Just so that a visage of him can complete the shrine I'm about to build for him as I whisper promises of violence for him and to him.

Yeah... He's my blorbo ♥

I'm gonna start getting therapy appointments for you guys../j

[watchfuldeer]

tom is a glutton for corporate punishment and he attributes his success in business to doing things he really doesn’t want to do for people he does genuinely seem to fear, and i think taking his journey as a whole this absolutely includes his pursuance of shiv as a romantic partner, his decision to marry her despite every indication that he shouldn’t, and his behaviour throughout their marriage. his consistent attempts to frame it as a business partnership are to rationalise the way being with shiv causes him a private pain and misery that he can’t share with her; he hopes that being the pain sponge will only benefit him in the end.

it’s not unlike his relationship with logan. i mean, it’s exactly like his relationship with logan, but logan is aware of his own role as the arbiter of his courtier’s mental stability and rewards tom, the poor, devoted servant accordingly. shiv meanwhile is never fully cognisant of the extent of tom’s campaign of appeasement towards her. by holding him at arm’s length she simply doesn’t notice she married a man who is obsequious enough to consistently forgo his own dignity and happiness because of what he thinks she can do for him. that’s not to say there is no love there, only that their understanding of each other’s motivations passes like ships in the night. he doesn’t want to jeopardise his life and position and job with honesty towards her, and she has no interest in trying to observe his inner world either to foster his goodwill or use his pain and disappointment as leverage.

ironically, greg does care enough and does both of those things, but only because tom refuses to allow him to get close enough for them to be on equal footing, which forces greg to manage his emotions. what greg would clearly prefer is to be closer to him as a friend and not as a subordinate employee. he really likes tom - he doesn’t always like working for tom.

the undoing of tom’s sorry mess ends up being the threat of prison. jail time is a step too far even for him, and it’s what gives him the opportunity to gain logan’s loyalty, makes it clear to him that shiv is a dead end for his own future, and it’s the catalyst that makes him choose greg over shiv in a very permanent way. he owes much of his success and eventual ascendance to CEO to being the sin eater, to suffering the various injustices of being subordinate to every roy in a business and personal sense. but it’s that moment in all the bells say where tom sets everything in motion by choosing something he actually wants. after, he makes the same mistakes with shiv and greg again to his own detriment, and presumably will continue to do so once he assumes the CEO position. he’s the perpetual melancholy clown, doomed to a painful fate he repeatedly chooses for himself, and yet he is undoubtedly the romantic hero to fellow clown greg. it’s what makes tom so fascinating.

[celestialspecial]

I Still Do

Thank you for 700 followers!!!! You guys rock- thank you for making me realize how much I love writing and being so loving and supportive of my work.

*places a kiss on each of your foreheads*

18+/Sexy timesss

The book lay heavily in your hands. Thick cardstock and glossy full color pages bursting to life with each page turned.

You’d sprung for the fancy package, because why not? A matte black hard cover with gold embossing delicately scribbled across the front in some fancy schmancy font that one would usually associate with wedding invitations.

Those days had passed and they’d been fun enough. The planning, the excitement but while your friends had ooed and awwed over floral arrangements and cake choices you instead looked forward to other things.

A future with the man of your dreams. While you did find yourself giggling and joking with them about the trials and tribulations of marriage, it felt different. It felt right. 

A lightness and a rightness in saying ‘yes’ to him.

That had been years ago and while, yes, there were some rough days. Some highs and lows. It still felt easy. Even those winding roads and unexpected things felt easy to navigate by his side.

Lately work had been consuming Billy’s every waking moment. Days chock full of meeting after meeting. Paperwork, spreadsheets, traveling, the whole gamut.

Even now as you peered around the corner into your bedroom he sat on the edge of the bed, laptop opened and furious typing filled the room.

His eyes roamed over the screen and a small wrinkle formed between his brows as he scowled at what was before him. You stood there peeking in on him, the book now behind your back, as you watched him.

His eyes never left the screen as he continued typing but his voice rang out, startling you a bit.

“Are you gonna stand there and hide or are you gonna come and save me from writing out another god forsaken email?” 

You couldn’t help the chuckle that rushed past your lips.

“I’m out of view! How the heck did you see me?” His eyes still remained on the laptop but you noticed the way the corner of his mouth quirked up.

“I can hear you.”

“I was being quiet.”

“Quiet as a bulldozer.” You made a huff in faux anger as you walked over to the edge where he sat.

“That’s what I get for marrying a marine I guess.” 

At that Billy’s eyes did leave the email he was angrily pounding out to look up at you. Hand reaching out and softly running the back along your jaw.

The sensation tickled and sparked something in the pit of your stomach. His dark eyes darted to the side then back to you.

“What’s behind your back.”

“Put away the laptop and I might show you.” 

You’d never seen a work device shut and tossed aside so quickly. He grinned up at you, patting the bed next to him, smoothing a few wrinkles out of the duvet cover.

Coaxing yourself onto the mattress and pulling one leg to cross the other you quickly pulled the book around, holding it tight to your chest. Only the blank back cover showing.

He raised a brow, curiously inspecting the mysterious item. Waiting for you to proceed.

“I hate to the be the person on the receiving end of what sounded like a scathing email you were typing out.”

“Some people don’t understand gentle nudges.”

“You’ve been working really hard recently.” At that his interest in the book cooled as he looked briefly away, running his fingers through the dark locks on his head.

His hair had grown out longer, and his usual scruff was slowly morphing into a full beard. He’d barely had any time to eat let alone go to the barber.

It was unlike him. You joked that he was vain, but was there really anything wrong with wanting to keep up one’s appearance? Especially when one was the CEO of a booming corporation.

“I have, but I promise I’m going to start delegating more. It’s just these new recruits are all green and I can’t afford to have any mistakes. And I-“ he paused taking in your sympathetic face.

“And I don’t want to talk about. I’m here with you right now.” The grin returned to his face as a finger reached out and he tapped against the back of the book. “And I want to know what this is.”

Your grin turned feline, allowing the top of the book to drop down so he could grasp one end.

Billy’s eyes ran over the front cover, zipping back and forth before darting up to yours. His lips had parted ever so slightly and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“Is this…what I think it is?” 

“Well if you already know I guess you don’t have to look at it then.” You moved to take the book back but his grip held firm, tightening against the spine.

He pulled it another inch closer to him.

“You’re gonna be in big trouble if you don’t let me look.”

“Why do I feel like I’m already in big trouble?” 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you could see his resolve starting to melt away. A hungry look began to grow in his eyes, fixated on the cover.

It was too good and part of you wanted to drag it out longer but your poor husband. He was practically aching to look, so you let your hand drop and he immediately pulled the book into his lap and flipped open to the first page.

Then the second. The third. The fourth. With each page turning you could watch the lust seem to grow brighter and brighter in his eyes. 

His breathing turned shallow and the tips of his ears had begun to turn the slightest shade of pink. After a long drawn out moment he spoke,

“When did you have this done?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” His hand shot out and grabbed ahold of your wrist. Tight and unyielding, until his thumb began to brush over your own heated skin.

“I think…you’d better tell me.” 

He flipped to another page, then another. 

“This one….this…God-“ he cut off, fingers drifting over the paper before him, twitching as they held the page between his thumb and forefinger. 

Of course he’d focused in on that one. Not that you weren’t watching him now slowly losing it as he took in photo after photo of you.

A girlfriend had mentioned getting boudoir photos done before her wedding and there sparked an idea in your head.

Sure you two weren’t newly married, the honeymoon phase gone years ago. And yet the flame burned just as bright between the two of you. 

There wasn’t a freckle, divet, or curve on you he hadn’t seen. Not a crease or mole he couldn’t place and yet as he devoured the photos from your own boudoir shoot it was as if it was all brand new.

The traditional lingerie shots had been fun, Lacey numbers that had way too many straps but looked gorgeous on camera.

A few of you surrounded by books, a white button up haphazardly falling off your shoulder as you held a book in your hands, a steamy romance novel. Eyeglasses dangling from your mouth.

The one he stopped on had been you, on your bed, Billy’s suit jacket draped over your shoulders. Covering enough, a satin thong sat on your thighs and you had one of his work ties pulled between your legs.

Your face, one of ecstasy, and you remember taking the shot and half telling the photographer not to leave it in. It had felt so raw and your cheeks turned pink when you’d seen it on their camera.

You remembered the thoughts you’d had to conjure up to make that face. Billy’s face pressed between your thighs, his moans drowning out your cries. 

Billy beside you now, seemed to be humming with energy. He wasn’t physically shaking but you could see him nearly hanging on as his eyes scanned over each and every page.

After he’d consumed the entire book, and gone back about three times, he landed again on the tie picture. 

Before you could ask if he liked it, a thought that felt silly and yet you’d never given a gift like this before. He was up and at the dresser, rifling through one of the drawers until he came away with a dark navy tie in hand.

“Was this it?” He asked, holding the swath of fabric. How he’d examined the image with the accuracy and precision only a marine could, of course he knew exactly which tie you’d used. 

Your mouth barely open as you nodded. Not a split second and he was before you, knees bumping against yours as he held the item of clothing out, draping it around your neck and leaning in.

Fingers grasped your chin holding it in place as he lowered his eyes to meet yours.

“Recreate it.”

“W-what?” You couldn’t help the stammer that had escaped you.

“This picture. I want to see what it looked like, in real life.” You laughed at that.

“Billy-“ but you could tell from the way he was looking at you, a hunger so divine and untainted that you felt a shiver slither its way up your back. Heat pooling between your legs as his grip tightened ever so slightly on your chin.

Realizing you were the instigator of this situation your hands pulled the loose t shirt you were wearing off, tossing it to the side. Followed by your pajama shorts and socks.

You turned away from him to unclasp your bralette, “I’m gonna need your suit-“ but as you looked back around he was standing there holding one of his dark suit jackets out to you.

One hand over your chest and sticking your tongue out at him before pulling it over your shoulders. Glancing at the lining you realized this was the very same jacket from the photo.

“How did you..”

“It’s one of my custom tailored pieces.” You were still facing away from him but you felt his hot breath by your ear as his hand slid down the back of the fine material, giving your rear a squeeze in the process.

You squeaked at that before realizing. The underwear. You didn’t have them anymore. The dryer decided to eat them, tearing the satin fabric and creating quiet a mess to clean from the filter for you.

“I don’t have the thong anymore.”

His hands roamed over your back and along your waist, kneading at your sides as he let his head rest in the crook of your shoulder. 

“That’s ok, do it without them.” You felt the heat bristling under your skin. Pinpricks of pleasure running just under the surface. You wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Instead you pushed away from him, letting his jacket cover your butt as you squatted down enough to get your much less sexy underwear off. 

In your last attempt at a playful jest you tossed them over your shoulder at Billy who caught them effortlessly. A shit eating grin plastered across his face.

Letting one of the leg holes swing around his index finger playfully.

“Encore!” You shook your head at that before resuming your place on the bed as you had been on the photo shoot. 

You could feel his gaze resting heavily on you. Every part of you.

Removing the tie from around your neck, wrapping slightly around your knuckles once then on the other hand letting the silky fabric come to rest between your legs.

The cool touch of the fabric grazing against the sensitive spot between your legs made you shudder softly.

“How’s this?” You asked, begging for the silence to be broken as you watched Billy, his whole attention focused on you. 

“And make the face.” He said. A little to casually for your liking. Because of course, he wanted to see the whole scene played out.

You tried imagining the scenario again but being out on the spot, it felt so inorganic, so forced. He could tell.

“What if I helped you out?” The saliva in your mouth had fully dried up at this point. Help? “Close your eyes.”

You couldn’t stifle the halfhearted giggle you made as you said his name.

“Close.” 

You did as he said. Eyelids drifting shut, licking your lips in anticipation. Not quite sure what his intention was.

You felt the warmth of his hand closing over your ankle, rubbing soft circles on your skin.

“Do you remember when we went to the beach up in Michigan?” 

You nodded, licking your lips nervously.

“The way the breeze was..warm and inviting. And we had a cabin with our own private beach?” His hand moved up your leg to rest on the inside of your knee that was planted on the mattress.

“And when we got tired there was a patio with a hot tub overlooking the water as the sun set.” You could feel where this was going.

“And I seem to recall a few days where we didn’t even leave the bed.” He ran a finger up and down your thigh, depthless eyes looking up at you. Oh he was wicked.

“The way the sheets would get all tangled up and I could smell the fresh air in your hair. Feel the heat on your skin where the sun kissed you a little too much. How your lips tasted-“

The need swirling around in your stomach and that desperate desire to feel him inside you started to fire within every nerve. 

“How did my lips taste, Billy?”

“Which ones?” His hand didn’t rise higher to where you needed him, but you were dying for contact, friction, anything.

Two could play at this game. Pulling the tie up tighter between your legs, not even feeling guilty for the gasp that left your lips at the soft drag of it against your body.

Billy’s eyes watched with rapt attention. You could feel the tell tale signs of pleasure building with each glide of his tie, certain you’d need to toss the thing aside before you soaked through it.

“And when we did finally leave the bed it was only so I could bury myself so deep into you on the beach that not even the waves and wind could drown out your screams.” 

Your mouth opened in a silent moan, begging for release.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You didn’t need him to say it outright to know your face matched the picture. The same feelings coursing through you now were the ones you’d envisioned when taking the shot.

“Why don’t you make a mess on my tie, sweetheart?” The words had you grinding  onto the fabric, but that wasn’t what you wanted. 

It took more willpower than you’d care to admit to toss the tie aside, grabbing Billy by the shoulders and pulling him onto you as you both dropped onto the duvet and pillows.

Your mouths collide in a kiss only described as feral. Desperate to touch and taste each and every part of each others mouth. His tongue sliding against your own and you hear him groan loudly.

His hands brushing your hair away from your face, pieces caught up in the crossfire of your kiss. His palms coaxing the jacket open and running along your breasts.

Chest heaving you arch up into him to show your displeasure at his continued teasing. You can feel the hardness pressing into your thigh and you line up to grind against him fully.

The hiss he makes thrills you and is only amplified when you feel him grab a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back to expose your neck to him.

He licks a line up the column of your neck before pressing a scalding kiss to your jaw before working his way back down. 

“Torturing me with those photos.” He murmured as his lips continued to lavish along your collar bones then along the swell of your breasts.

His body settling into the cradle of your thighs and you pushed up again dying to feel his cock, hot and pulsing against you. 

“Someone is eager.” He huffed out, a smile playing across his face as his mouth continued its devilish work sucking on one of your nipples. The other under the palm of his hand. 

“Billy, I swear to god…please.” A weak plea answered with a roll of his hips against you and you felt dizzy with desire.

Your mind felt fuzzy and in that haziness you managed to free one of your arms, letting it drift between your bodies. Pressing firmly to where his pants had become unbearably tight.

The sound he made as you stroked the front of his pants sent electricity shooting up your spine. All these clothes needed off. Now. 

Any other day Billy would be even more tortuous, drawing out your pleasure but tonight after viewing that picture book he seemed in just as much a rush as you.

Fumbling over remaining clothing, ripping open buttons, unzipping and sliding out of his suit jacket eventually he was just as bare as you.

Capturing your lips in another toe curling kiss. His scent filling your nostrils and your own hands tangled up in his hair and the sheets. 

“Please please-“ you could feel him pressed against your thigh, the silky hardness so close to where you needed him.

You feel his hand caress the side of your face once more, turning your face so your eyes meet his fully. His expression is enough to undo you. Passion mixed with awe, tenderness and thrill.

And people say married life is boring.

No words need exchanged as you feel him slide home, stretching you slowly. You swear you can feel each ridge and vein on him. Forcing air into your lungs as you feel him fill you up completely.

“How’s my girl?” He asked placing a gently kiss on your temple. His body hovering just above yours.

“Good.” You say rather breathless. Mind unable to focus on anything beyond him within you. How his body seemed to melt into yours perfectly.

His hips slotted against yours and then a gentle rocking. Your eyes squeezed shut, relishing the push and pull, hips rising up to meet each arc and rock.

It’s delicious, but not enough. Faster, deeper. Your ankles cross behind his lower back, pulling him even closer to you as he grinds into you. 

Billy grunts as he begins to pick up the pace. Your body feels heated, his hot breath next to your ear, then a few open mouthed kisses to your pulse point on your neck.

Filling you up deeper and deeper. Your moans match alongside the noises he’s making. You can tell he’s close the louder he gets.

Your mouths move against one another, desperate longing. He rocks faster and faster. Claiming your mouth and body all at once.

Your orgasm snuck up on you, slowly swirling through your entire essence then you lost it all at once. 

Sweating, breathless, holding onto Billy for dear life as you said his name over and over. His hips continued their relentless sway carrying you through your bliss.

Then it was his turn to join you. Pushing off from the bed, holding you tight against his chest as he emptied himself into you. A loud groan followed by expletives and final few thrusts.

Both of you toppling off to the side, panting heavily. You moved to wipe a few pieces of sweat soaked hair from his forehead, then placing a kiss to the now clear spot.

You found yourself mesmerized by his dark lashes, watching them flutter as he took in a full breath. Cheeks no longer ruddy and red but fading to a softer pink.

The two of you laid there in silence, coming down from the post climax high. Basking in the afterglow, the only sound your breathing coming back to center.

After a moment Billy turned to you, his fingers brushing up the length of your arm.

“Thank you.”

“I’d say I got a little something out of it too.” You chuckled, running the back of your buckles over his cheek. He laughed in response.

“I meant for the book, but yes also this.” You snuggled closer to him, just enjoying being in his arms. Yes, married life was bliss.

The next morning you rolled over still groggy from sleep, a satisfied ache between your legs. Billy’s side of the bed was empty but you could hear him moving about getting ready for work.

Sounds of the coffee pot being turned on and that delicious aroma wafted in from the kitchen. A moment later you saw him standing in the doorway, anvil mug in hand as he took a sip of the fresh brew.

“I’m heading out. Coffees on. I promise not to be too late tonight” he grinned as you sleepily nodded, bed head and all. He lowered the mug and with a wave turned on his heel, the front door closing behind him.

[lookingfts]

Friday Fic Rec 9/13

Thanks so much for your submissions! I've really been enjoying putting these together. Here are this week's recs. (Titles are links to each fic.)

Attorney-Client Privilege by caciopepebowl

"Attorney-Client Privilege is my one obsession right now. I’m not usually big on slow burns but this is *chef’s kiss.* Everything is so well written. Kate is an ass kicking attorney and Anthony is an emotionally constipated CEO. It is the absolute best story that I am reading right now."

Description: Anthony Bridgerton is reeling from a series of personal and professional missteps when his family hires Kate Sharma to serve as General Counsel and Chief Legal Officer of the Bridgerton family office. Anthony views Kate as living proof that his family no longer trusts him or his judgment. Kate thinks Anthony is the most arrogant, unlikeable man she has ever met. When they actually start working together, they both quickly realize that the truth—like their feelings for one another—is far more complicated.

Status: WIP (15/?) Rating: E

Two in Tents by PenguinofProse

"Anything by PenguinofProse is amazing and it’s impossible to choose one but i’ve read two in tents like 3 times, it’s so funny and cute, the scene where they finally get together is everything."

Description: Modern AU. In which Anthony takes the whole firm on a corporate team-building weekend featuring tents, and things get rather out of hand.

Status: Complete Rating: E

Bury me in your Memory by wwlksj

"If anyone wants good Kanthony angst that will shatter you, Bury me in your memory is it. Part one is Anthony’s point of view and part two is Kate’s."

Description: Anthony and Kate are in love but neither told the other. What if there was no bee, and Kate had another suitor?

Status: Complete Rating: M

someone to watch me die by wmthackeray

"I was just rereading it and loved it again, it’s different from what I usually read in fics but it’s very good."

Description: kate and anthony at the end of the world. a modern!apocalypse coworkers-to-lovers au.

Status: Complete Rating: M

there was heaven in your eyes by griffenly

Description: And, it must be said: Kate is rarely wrong. Except, it seems, when it comes to Anthony Bridgerton. A Kanthony college AU.

Status: Complete Rating: E

say it out loud by serendipityinwords

Description: Kate is not answering Anthony's texts. Obviously, everybody needs to know why.

Status: Complete Rating: T

I've got the magic in me. by ArtemisFreed

Description: Kate's trying to get through their son's birthday party without dry humping the magician. Her husband is the magician.

Status: Complete Rating: M

LFTS rec: take me home, country roads by Moomin_94

Impeccable fall vibes. Chaotic artist Kate and moody lumberjack Anthony. Muffin and Bear. It's a good time.

Description: Kate Sharma was an artist looking to get away from the city and the recklessness that built in her chest until she couldn't avoid it, and the very last person she expected to feel drawn to was the forest ranger next door, who looked at her with a disapproving frown and answered all her questions with a grunt. But there's just something about him that she can't stay away from.

Status: Complete Rating: M

Thanks to those who submitted! This will be a weekly thing, so keep your recs coming! You can find previous weeks under the "lfts fic recs" tag.